#oc!keeda ionza

[sleepingsun501]

Sweet True Lies: Chapter 2

The Taste of Caf

Pairing(s): Still none... don't worry we're getting there!

Characters: F!Reader/OC Keeda Ionza, Commander Fox, Commander Thorn

Summary: Keeda deals with the stressful aftermath of her evening, and Fox talks to Thorn about a new assignment.

Rating: This chapter is G (series is rated E)

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 3.5k

Ao3 link

A/N: Hello all, and welcome to chapter 2! So sorry it took so long for me to churn this out, but Covid is not a fun experience. I also wanted this chapter to be an alternate opening to this story in case chapter 1 was too graphic for anyone. I have also created an OC main character for this series because the level of detail I wanted to include was going to be too difficult to manage as a traditional reader insert fic.

Check her out here

The Taste of Caf

You breathed out a long, tense sigh as you watched the familiar luxury high-rise come into view. The senatorial transport wove smoothly around the bustling lanes of traffic, carrying you swiftly to your childhood home. It felt odd riding in a vehicle with such clearances, as it normally would have taken at least a few extra minutes for you to get here on your own through your normal route.

“Level 233, please. You can just pull up next to the speeder on the landing platform there,” you said to the driver, spotting your mother’s expensive vehicle parked on her private landing pad.

“No problem, miss,” the driver replied, slowing the transport, and angling smoothly toward the correct side of the skyscraper. Quickly stepping out of the transport and thanking the driver again, who tipped his cap to you, you made your way across the platform.

You were relieved your mother was home tonight. You had been half expecting her to be neck-deep in either some new medical research back at her office or planning for the upcoming charity gala at the lavish venue, but you saw the large, mirrored glass door already open for you as the transport came to a stop. Having already given her a heads-up through a text comm that you were on your way over—and recounting the entire incident in your message—you hoped you would not have to explain any of the distasteful events that had transpired in the past hour.

The wind rippled gently through your mother’s velvet robe and nightgown as she hurried out to greet you. You squinted as the warm light beyond the heavily tinted windows spilled out into the night and illuminated you. The austere look on your face must have told her enough because she immediately opened her arms to you.

“Oh, honey,” she cooed, the worry resounding in her tone. She placed a hand on your hair and tucked you into her shoulder.

“I’m okay, Mum,” you muttered, carefully crafting your composure, and not really believing the lie yourself.

Sareel Ionza was a thin woman with a graceful, reed-like figure, but her firm grasp on you was unbreakable. “I told Auntie Henya what happened, and she just feels awful. She said she wanted to come by in the morning to talk, but I figured you would want some space for a bit.”

You blinked rapidly and nodded, feeling choked up again as you leaned into the embrace. You found yourself hugging her back with equal force as if it would somehow help you absorb the motherly comfort she was exuding.

“Please let her know it wasn’t her fault, okay?” you requested, letting yourself be led inside. Henya was an experienced lawyer who represented the same hospital where your mother worked, and she was one of her best friends. She had watched you grow up and had been like family for years, and she had been the one who set up the date for you.

You passed through the large circular foyer and into the less formal part of the residence with your mother’s arm still around your shoulders. Upon entering the kitchen, you shucked your coat and tossed it lazily over the arm of one of the sleek barstools, making for the conservator.

“I’m not hurt, Mum,” you said heavily, feeling her sharp brown eyes following your every move. You shook your long, heavy hair out of the loosely braided updo you had been wearing all evening, releasing some of the strain on your neck and ducking behind it like a curtain.

The oversized, stainless durasteel-topped island in the center of the kitchen was littered with flimsi sheets, a few datapads, and samples of different elegant dishes. Yep, she was gala planning. you thought, wrinkling your nose at what looked to be a slippery seafood dish. Your mother’s protocol droid, TC-N2, was unwrapping and setting out even more food samples as you passed. Fuck, I could’ve just come here for dinner.

“Maybe not physically,” your mother said swiftly, tucking a stray pale blonde curl behind her ear and adjusting her glasses, “but you’re most definitely shaken up. I know very well that you can fend for yourself, but I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if those clones had not been there.” She pursed her lips as she took your coat and folded it before handing it off to TC-N2. “They sound like good men.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, swallowing thickly. “They were.” Keeping your head buried in the conservator, you blinked hard and banished the stress tear that had been trying to escape. Talking about your evening was the last thing you wanted to do, but you conceded that she was your mother, and she had a right to express her feelings about it.

Your mind wandered back to the clone commander and his men again as you continued searching through the conservator. As prepared as you had been to defend yourself, you were relieved the clones had come along, and you once again felt guilty about how you had spoken to the commander—you had not even asked for his name.

“So good to see you this evening, Mistress Keeda. Is there something you require? As you can see, we have plenty of food,” the silver-plated droid asked you, watching you dig through various frozen items.

“Nope, I got it,” you replied, holding up a tub of your favorite ice cream triumphantly and grabbing a nearby spoon. “Thanks, N2.” You plunged the spoon into the softening ice cream, took a bigger scoop than was probably wise, and stuffed it in your mouth. The sweetness and rich cocoa-caf flavor immediately replaced the bitterness you had been tasting for nearly half an hour, making the tightness rising in your chest a little easier to bear.

“Is there anything else you require, Mistress Sareel?” N2 asked your mother. “If not, I should like to recharge for a while. My energy level is becoming critical.”

“Go ahead, N2,” your mother said, dismissing the droid. She leaned on the grey tektite granite counter behind you and took off her glasses. “This is the last thing I’ll ask tonight, I promise,” she began, also grabbing a spoon. “Would you like me to remove the governor and his wife from the gala invitation list?”

You breathed deeply, trying to calm your nerves as you rolled the frozen cream around on your tongue. The calm familiarity and the sweet, oaky scent of your sprawling childhood home were soothing you in a way you could not explain, and it was helping you think more clearly. As much as you despised playing politics, you knew uninviting the governor mere days before the gala would not benefit the charity’s local efforts in his district. If you had to suffer through an evening in the same room as your assailant’s family for the benefit of all those people the charity could potentially help, then you would do it.

Out of what felt like a mixture of spite and possibly a little self-pity, you dug your spoon into the ice cream again and took another large bite before pushing the container toward your mother. “Don’t uninvite them,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m sure they’ll be hearing about this from Henya, anyway. Besides, it’s their son who was the problem.”

“It’s up to you, honey. They may want to talk to you about what happened tonight,” she said giving you a concerned look and taking a smaller bite. “That is if they even choose to come at all,” she added bitterly.

You mulled it over silently as you shared your dessert. You had already made up your mind, but there was that tiny inkling of doubt that made you question yourself. You took one last large spoonful of ice cream and popped it into your mouth before tossing your spoon into the sink with a clatter. “It’s fine, Mum. Don’t worry about it,” you said blandly. You were self-aware enough to know it was not actually fine because of the sickening numbness still tightening in your gut.

Inhaling deeply in an unsuccessful attempt to relieve the ache, you scrubbed a hand through your wavy hair. “I’m gonna go take a bath and just try to sleep. I’ve canceled all my plans for tomorrow so I can have a bit of a lie-in.”

“Okay. I’ll be out here if you need me,” your mother said, kissing the back of your head gently and patting your shoulder as she walked behind you. “If you want something to do tomorrow, could you stop by June’s nursery and check on the flowers for the gala?” she asked.

June was your best friend from university. She had inherited one of the few floral greenhouses left on Coruscant, and your mother had placed a substantial order with her for the gala decorations. You had been meaning to stop by there to see her anyway, so you answered with a silent nod.

“I’m glad you’re here and that you’re safe,” your mother added as you disappeared down the hall, sounding a little melancholy.

You made your way to your bedroom, knowing full well why your mother had said that. She had asked you at least twice over the past few months to move back in with her, and after tonight, you could only imagine that desire had grown. She had mentioned before that it did not feel as homey without you, and that the sprawling luxury condo was simply too big for one person, especially when she was hardly ever there. She had even gone so far as to update your room for you over time, keeping up with your maturing tastes.

Originally, you had told yourself you moved out to feel some sort of independence after you had started attending the University of Coruscant, but the truth was you had been trying to escape the memory of your father at the time. You could never escape him, though, because you looked just like him—everything from your light olive skin and dark hair down to your bright green eyes and muscular build was him.

As you entered your old bedroom, being here no longer felt like you were going to accidentally stumble into him turning a corner or see him sipping whiskey and reading in his favorite chair. Maybe you would consider it—you had been feeling rather lonely as well, absorbed in your work. After all, it was why you had agreed to go on that awful date in the first place.

It also dawned on you that keeping your little apartment much longer would be impractical. Part of the whole reason for the gala was not only to fundraise but also to commemorate the official attachment of civilian relief-effort volunteers to different units of the Grand Army of the Republic. Seeing as you were one such volunteer, you could not fathom a reason to let the place just sit empty for months on end.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and rubbed hard, trying to dispel the headache that was forming behind your eyes. Too many thoughts were racing through your head, and it was not helping your rising blood pressure. You kicked off your shoes and wrenched the handle on your tub a little harder than necessary. The large soaker tub filled quickly, pleasantly warming the air with steam, and you set about examining yourself in the mirror as you stripped down. When you turned in the dim light, you noticed a bruise forming on your upper arm where your assailant had grabbed you.

Dammit. you thought, scrambling to grab a tube of bacta from one of your drawers. Thank the Maker your mother always kept the home stocked full of medical supplies—almost as well-stocked as the hospital itself. Your vision started to blur with unshed tears again as you fumbled with the cap and squeezed the gel over your arm.

Rubbing it in furiously, you did not think he had gripped you that hard, especially through your wool-lined coat, but the adrenaline must have overridden your ability to sense pain. You were disgusted by the thought of him having left any kind of mark on you, so you slathered another copious amount of the tingling blue gel into your arm until your skin was dry and the bruise began to fade.

The tears were flowing freely by the time you lowered yourself into the steaming water, not caring that it was a bit too hot for your liking. You grimaced as your skin prickled from the heat, but you forced yourself into it anyway. The tub was deep enough that you could submerge yourself completely, so you sank under the water, letting it carry your tears away, and let yourself scream—the delayed and repressed rage and fear finally breaking through.

***

High in the towers of the GAR Military Complex, Fox plopped down in his chair tiredly. It was late, and he had a mountain of flimsi-work to catch up on, but it was worth it to have taken Jonor and Rydar on their first real patrol. It was even more worth it to have put that high-born asshole in his place.

He pulled his gloves off and ran his calloused hands over his face and through his curls, waiting for his little caf machine to finish brewing a fresh pot. He studied his right hand in the light from his desk lamp and flexed away the slight soreness. His right knuckles had bruised from the force of the two blows he had dealt, and he was glad for it. That shabuir deserved every hit.

How anyone could ever even think of hurting a woman—any other living being for that matter—in that gruesome way was inconceivable to him. As a soldier and a commanding officer, he had a stomach for everything except that. The very idea of it made his gut churn.

Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes briefly and could still see her in his mind. Her beautiful green eyes had been so full of fire, ready to burn everything in their wake. She had been quick and accurate as she had pushed him away, a clear sign of training. He had no doubt she probably could have taken care of herself, but a deep pressure enveloped his chest as he thought of her. He hoped she had made it to her destination safely.

The beeping of his caf machine broke through the memory. Fox blinked and dragged himself up again, grabbed a clean cup, and poured what he knew would be the first of many. He shook himself a little, watching his cup fill and wondering why that young woman had such a deep effect on him. He did not even know her name. As he replaced the small pot, he heard his office door slide open.

“Bring the shinies back alive?” a rather chipper voice asked.

Thorn. Fox thought as he turned to face his brother. “They did very well. Observant and followed orders.”

“Glad to hear it,” Thorn said with a yawn, pulling his chin-length golden curls into a bun. “I was getting worried Jonor would get sidetracked. He’s shown some tendency for distraction in training sims. They looked pretty happy with themselves, though. Got enough there for two?” he asked, looking to the caf pot.

Fox tipped his head toward the pot as he took a sip and crossed the room to his desk. The hot, bitter, dark liquid warmed him to his bones.

Thorn poured himself a cup and took an experimental sip. “Ugh,” he grimaced. “How do you drink this stuff without some sugar or cream or… dying?” That got a rare, genuine laugh out of the stoic Marshal Commander. Smiling to himself, Thorn knew he was probably one of the few clones alive, apart from Fox’s batchmates, that could manage to make that happen.

“Black like my soul,” Fox said, taking his seat again. He had to admit that despite the cheap quality of the drink, he had grown to like it. There was something familiar and steady about it now, a constant in the ever-changing game that he played to keep his brothers safe. He had learned the politics that governed the Republic, quietly observing the undercurrents of coded conversations, and he used the information to make sure his brothers were prepared for the warzone that was Coruscant itself. A simple cup of caf was the only certainty he was ever allowed.

Thorn frowned, but his voice was light, “Ha! Have you met yourself? The boys would’ve nicknamed you ‘Commander Sunshine’ if the 212th hadn’t already snatched that title for Cody.”

Beneath the gruff, quiet, and intimidating exterior, Fox was one of the most selfless brothers Thorn had ever come across. He had always put himself on the line first, whether it be physical or official, ready to take the fall for them if necessary. For that, Thorn and the rest of the Corries were eternally grateful. They all knew how tired he was, they had all seen the premature grey lacing through his curls, and they all worked their asses off out of gratitude.

Fox miraculously laughed again, taking another drink. His oldest batchmate, Marshal Commander Cody of the 212th Legion deserved that call sign far more than he did. In any case, Fox thought his troops’ call sign for him—Caf—suited him far better, even if no one called him that to his face.

“Whoa, hold up,” Thorn said suddenly, coming over and pointing to Fox’s knuckles. “Those are new.”

Sighing and ignoring Thorn’s remark, Fox set his cup down and picked up his stylus, ready to start signing off on reports and supply requests.

Thorn perched himself expectantly on the edge of Fox’s desk, caf in hand. “You always wear training gloves so those aren’t from a punching bag or a training scrap.”

Fox pulled a face. He knew Thorn was not going to let this go, no matter how much work he had to do. His hyper-observant blonde kih’vod was a pain in his ass at times, always mother-nuna-ing him, but he had grown to rely on it in a way—not that he would ever admit that out loud.

“This one’s off the books… for now,” Fox said, keeping his eyes on his reports and giving in to the silent pressure of Thorn’s gaze.

The blonde cocked an eyebrow, sipping his caf and waiting patiently as Fox recounted the evening’s events. He was not surprised at the stunningly thorough level of Fox’s detail, especially how his fist making contact with the assailant’s jaw had brought the tired commander some true satisfaction. It had been a while since any of the Corrie commanders, including Stone and Thire, had the occasion to justifiably beat the living shit out of anyone, especially a nat-born. Sure, they went at each other hard in training, but even training had its limits.

Fox finished his narrative as Thorn downed the last swallow of his caf. “Damn, I gotta get out of the senate building and start going back on patrols more often,” he said, pulling a tube of bacta gel out of one of his belt packs and extending it. “I miss the action out there.”

Eyeing the tube, Fox shook his head, his curls bouncing a little against his forehead as he scribbled his signature off on a report. “Nah, I want to keep these for a while.”

“Your call, vod. Might not look too good in your dress greys with your hand like that, though,” Thorn replied with a shrug, tucking the tube back in his pack. “Might want to use some under your eyes, too. You need more sleep.”

Fox paused his scribbling. “Dress greys?” he asked, confused. “When am I…?” Then it crashed over him. The charity gala that a multitude of senators and other public officials had been invited to was in just a few days. “No,” he protested adamantly, looking up at Thorn beneath his heavy brows. “No, no, no, Thire said he had that covered.”

Thorn shrugged. “He got called off-world. Some senator needed an escort home and back through the frontline.” He chuckled quietly as Fox groaned and thumped his head on his desk. “Come on, it’s just a big fancy dinner with a few thousand guests tops. It’s not the worst event we’ve ever covered. Maybe we can sneak some dinner while we’re there like we did at that crazy party Senator Taa held last month.”

Kriffing hells. Fox did not even bother to raise his head. “You know, you guys keep telling me to sleep, but instead you keep giving work I delegate to you right back to me.”

“Well, when Jonor and Rydar and the rest of their batch can hold their own in security detail, I’ll delegate more to them,” Thorn said, bumping Fox’s armored shoulder and hopping off his desk. “Seriously, though, take a nap at least.”

“I’ll nap when you get a haircut,” Fox shot back, both playful and annoyed. He was tired of finding stupidly long, stray blonde hair on everything.

“You’ll be awake for the rest of my life,” Thorn laughed, leaving Fox to his flimsiwork.

Tags: @ariadnes-red-thread @moodymisty @twistedstitcher27 @wizardofrozz @ellichonkasaurusrex

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[wild-karrde]

Hi Karrde! This is my first time recommending something for Fandom Friday, so this is exciting for me! Thank you for doing this; it's so nice to make sure everyone in the fandom is appreciated for their contributions! (my Star Wars account is @starstofillmydream, so let's just pretend I'm recommending things from that account 😂)

These works have already been recommended many a time before, but I wanted to recommend them because rereading these works always brings a smile to my face!

I trust him, and he trusts me by @enigmaticexplorer

I'm obsessed with the dynamic between Wolffe and Fox Alli wrote here, as well as the touching on the main theme of trust.

Sweet True Lies by @sleepingsun501

This series is everything. Two very unlikely people falling in love? Amazing. I love Keeda's characterization as being upper crust in galactic society, but being committed to make changes for the better. A true heroine and role model!

Captain's Log by @rexxdjarin

Julie has such a passion for her OC Mari and Rex, the strength of their relationship, and their navigation of a post-Order 66/post-Republic galaxy.

HECK YES WELCOME TO THE FRAY!!! I AM EXCITED FOR YOU!!! AND THANK YOU FOR THE RECS!!! All of these fics are SO WONDERFUL in their own right. You are SO right about how Alli wrote the dynamics between Wolffe and Fox and how gradually it built. I have absolutely inhaled every crumb of STL and adore learning more about Keeda and watching her relationship with Fox develop. And Julie puts so much care into Mari, and it's so evident in how she writes the relationship between her and Rex. These are all FANTASTIC and THANK YOU for sending them in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[ariadnes-red-thread]

Aria!! Ok so for the OC headcanons ask…

I feel like Keeda and Mal would be besties because of their medical backgrounds. While Keeda would give up her medical studies to pursue finance instead, she would be totally supportive of Mal and so proud of her for becoming a medic. I feel like they’d briefly cross paths again as they’re both assigned to the 104th, and Keeda would take up Mal’s mantle as the Wolfpack’s moral support figure when Mal joins the 501st. I think Keeda would always keep Mal up to date on the Wolfpack, making sure she knows Wolffe is being forced to eat and sleep and take care of himself so she won’t worry. And they’d trade stories about all the shenanigans the boys get up to.

June and Mal… dear god two redheads = double trouble 😂😂 they would have so much fun together, and they would definitely come running to each other when they need to vent or need a night out. I also think June would constantly be bringing Mal new plants to have in her apartment, keeping her surrounded by the comforting greenery she knows Mal loves.

YES! I love this. I think Keeda would bring out Mal’s strong, steady side and they would RUN that medbay through any crisis. I could also see, after the transfer, Mal sending Keeda a comm like <Has Wolffe eaten today> and when Keeda reminds him to eat, he promptly tells both her and Mal to fuck off (but he does go get a snack and glass of water).

June and Mal would cause SO MUCH havoc!! They totally would feed off of each other on a night out and I just see Keeda being dragged along on their adventures because she’s afraid to leave them to their own devices 😂 and I love the idea of June bringing Mal plants! I think Mal would love to visit the greenhouse and help out June when she’s on leave ❤️

[rexxdjarin]

Babes you know how much I love Mari, I couldn’t resist this.

Mari and June are so extremely similar, and they would have an absolute ball picking up guys together (at least until Mari meets Rex). They would hype each other up so much and always have each other’s backs. They’ve also both got fiery tempers and are willing to fight anybody who badmouths the clones or their friends.

Keeda and Mari would get along amazingly, too. They would have incredible respect for each other personally and for each other’s work with relief efforts—which would probably often put them in the same circles. And also Keeda would be the one who comes to bail Mari and June out of jail 😅😅

Send Headcanons of Our OCs Relationship

ERIN!!!!!! listen Mari and June are getting drinks from the handsomest hottest lifeforms of all species in the galaxy. They’re getting into fights and taking shots and arguing about Republic politics in bars. They are each others wing women for sure and they’ve slept with their fair share of men…enough to have some crazy stories and lots of experience. They’d be the girls at the bar that turn every head and make the entire night of everyone there. I can’t even begin to explain the crazy adventures they’d get into together. I LOVE their friendship.

Keeda…literally is bringing them space liquid iv the morning after and making sure they’ve been taking their contraceptives and visiting the appropriate doctors to make sure they’re all healthy and what not. She respects Mari’s work the same way Mari respects hers and she’d totally be pulling to her to get the next open spot on the Human Rights Committee with Padmé or Bail. I think Keeda would be her mom friend 💙

[fandom-friday]

PART 1 OF 2 (FICS ONLY)

Thank you so much to everyone that submitted recommendations this week! There was SO MUCH content, I have to split this week's summary into two parts! A comprehensive list of this week’s fic submissions can be found under the cut! Recommendations are organized by show/media, and any main pairings will be listed after the title.

✨ = 18+ content 🪐 = contains spoilers of a currently running show

Fics:

The Clone Wars: ✨ Rooftop Reunion (Commander Fox x f!Reader) by @wings-and-beskar ✨ Sweet True Lies (Commander Fox x OC Keeda Ionza) by @sleepingsun501 I Fits I Sits (Captain Rex x OC Mira) by @kimiheartblade Cyare (Clone Trooper Sister x f!Reader) by @imarvelatthestars It Happened Quiet by @mercurydancer An Unexpected Chance by @mercurydancer For This Republic I Will Bleed by @captora

The Bad Batch: ✨Stars Beyond Number (Echo x Riyo Chuchi, Gregor x OC Cerra Kilian) by @dystopicjumpsuit ✨ Exigency (Captain Howzer x f!Reader) by @the-rain-on-kamino 🪐 (TBB S3) She Walks in Starlight (Clone Trooper Sister x f!Reader) by @imarvelatthestars A Dead Traitor is a Good Traitor by @hellowkatey 🪐 (TBB S3) Revelation by RheaShay (AO3)

The Book of Boba Fett: ✨ Golden (Garsa Fwip x Fennec Shand) by @btwxsixesandsevens

Star Wars Prequel Trilogy: Shattered Sunrise (Mace Windu x OC Danica Morrow) by @pickleprickle Sahuldeem by @inonibird Agwe by @jedi-valjean

Batman: Home Is Where the Heart Is by LittleLadybugs (AO3) The Lone Ranger Never Had To Deal With Bruce Wayne by @theskeptileptic Your Hands Are To Loud by BatFamily_shenanigans (AO3) Have We Met Before? by @lulurythmea Soft Robin, Sleepy Robin, Little Ball of Trauma by @iselsis Surprise by Racoonwriter (AO3) Patty Cake, Patty Cake, My Brother Ran Away by That_Hippie_Chick (AO3) Play it Again by @jazz020 The Cold (My Burning Promise) by BlueKappa (AO3) Brotherly Wisdom by @olivia-anderson-fanfic Late by breathingsentences (AO3) Not Him by @animemangasoul

Hetalia: Axis Powers: A Matter of Time by @cultureandseptember A Matter of Course by @cultureandseptember TELL ME A PIECE OF YOUR HISTORY by @cultureandseptember

Crossover AUs: Tanjiro & Kagome: A Taishō-Heisei Friendship (Demon Slayer X InuYasha Crossover) by Splashpointparabox (AO3) Life Anew (Batman X Detroit: Become Human Crossover) by BrickSheep (AO3) Steer Yourself (Any Direction You Choose) (The Clone Wars X The Murderbot Diaries Crossover) by antonomasia09 (AO3) The Five Tenets That Mandalorians Must Follow (and the One Thing Worth Breaking Them For) (The Mandalorian X The Murderbot Diaries Crossover) by @urisarang

[starwars-sims]

Masterlist

hi :) my name is julie and im obsessed with star wars and the sims 4.

I created this side blog as a reference point where all star wars canon & oc character creations, sw alien mods etc can live.

This is an 18+ blog and my sims 4 gameplay is 18+ [NO MINORS ALLOWED]

below are reference links for all the mods and character references I use in my game:

[on-going][will link each character as I add them]

*updated 5/31/24

**all mods used to create each character will be referenced & linked in their associated character sheet**

Clone Wars Era:

Clone Character Models

Captain Rex

Commander Wolffe

Commander Cody

Commander Fox

Arc Trooper Fives

Arc Trooper Jesse

Clone Trooper Hardcase

Clone Medic Kix

Captain Howzer

Captain Gregor

Clone Trooper Fireball

Bonus: Jango Fett

Jedi Character Models

Anakin Skywalker

Ahsoka Tano

Obi-wan Kenobi

Mace Windu

Aayla Secura

Qui-gon Jinn

Quinlan Vos

Kit Fisto

Luminara Unduli

Villain Character Models

Asajj Ventress

Darth Maul

Count Dooku

Other Republic-era Character Models

Padme Amidala

Riyo Chuchi

Duchess Satine Kryze

The Bad Batch Era:

Sergeant Hunter

Arc Corporal Echo

Clone Trooper Tech

Clone Trooper Wrecker

Clone Trooper Crosshair

Omega

The Rebellion Era:

Hera Syndulla

Kanan Jarrus

Sabine Wren

Ezra Bridger

Jacen Syndulla (child)

Cassian Andor

Bix Caleen

Lando Calrissian

Luke Skywalker (child)

Leia Skywalker-Amidala-Organa (child)

The New Republic Era:

Din Djarin

Grogu (child)

Boba Fett (young adult)

Fennec Shand

OCs & SW Alien Species:

Mari Vontas (rexxdjarin oc)

Kai Vontas (rexxdjarin oc)

Nisa Vontas (rexxdjarin oc)

Mako Vontas (rexxdjarin oc)

Zeeta Undre (rexxdjarin twi'lek oc)

Jai Undre (rexxdjarin twi'lek oc)

Xori Undre (rexxdjarin twi'lek oc)

Qwo Undre (rexxdjarin twi'lek oc) (child)

Teza Kirso (rexxdjarin oc)

Keeda Ionza (sleepingsun01 oc)

Nautolan (F!Model)

Togruta (F!Model)

~~ MODS ~~

Game Play Mods

Star Wars Alien Species Mods

Star Wars Canon Character Outfit Mods

Custom CAS Mods

~~ Builds ~~

79s Clone Bar

[galacticgraffiti]

Hi Gala! Here’s a mood board I made a while back about my OC Keeda Ionza. She’s the current main OC in my fic Sweet True Lies. Hope you like her!!

erin!!!!!

i’m a huge sucker for moodboards, i’m so happy you sent this!! it honestly looks amazing, the vibes are off the charts 🫶🏻🥹

[sleepingsun501]

Sweet True Lies: Chapter 1

Eyes Do Not Lie

Paring(s): None... yet

Characters: F!Reader, Commander Fox, OC clone troopers

Summary: During a disastrous date night, Commander Fox comes to your aid and teaches your assailant a lesson.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: SA threat (just the threat, nothing further), violence

Word Count: 3k

Ao3 link

A/N: Please let me know if I missed any warning tags with this one. This work contains graphic depictions of violence and an SA threat (it doesn’t actually occur tho), so if you're not ok with those, don't read.

I may also turn this into a short series. I have ideas (hence the title), but I'm not sure yet. Let me know if you want a part 2!

Eyes Do Not Lie

You sipped at your wine, slouching back into the luxuriously plush chair of the over-the-top restaurant overlooking Coruscant’s skyline. You already disliked coming to these kinds of establishments for your mother’s charity functions, so coming to one for a date was not exactly your idea of a fun evening. Sighing purely out of boredom, you crossed your legs and gazed out the glass wall beside your table.

Having grown up with an abundance of wealth from your late father, a bitter taste was left in your mouth when it came to the upper classes of the Core Worlds. The posh lifestyle and the overinflated sense of self-importance most of your socialite friends—if you could really call them friends—possessed was off-putting, to say the least. You had never been one to buy the most expensive clothes and trinkets or follow the latest trends that made their way through the materialistic society, and you glumly wished that one of them were here to take your place.

Tonight, you would have rather been down in the night markets, eating steaming food straight from vendor stalls and watching various street performers—things you remembered doing with your father before he died. He taught you the true value of wealth from a young age, how to maintain it, and how to use your fortunate position in life to help others.

After he was gone, you had spent the majority of your free time volunteering and working for the charity organization your brilliant surgeon mother had founded in his memory. You even earned your university degree in finance to prepare yourself to take over the charity someday. You had met people of all different species from all different places across the galaxy through your work, and your workload had only doubled since the Clone Wars had started. So, on a rare night off, you had somewhat hoped to be swept off your tired feet for a change.

You gazed out the window at the darkening sky, the towering skyscrapers, and the speeder traffic as you mused in your memories, barely listening to your date anymore. It’s so beautiful here at night. you thought, swirling the pale, bubbling liquid in your glass. The glittering skyline itself never failed to dazzle you—something your date was currently failing at.

“And I also have—well, my father has—a summer home on… And one time I… Did I mention that I…” your date rambled.

Maker, he just doesn’t shut up about himself. you grumbled inwardly, taking another sip of the expensive, sparkling white wine. You were certain the sweet, crisp flavor of the fruity alcohol and the promise of a buzz were the only things that would get you through the evening as the young man seated across from you babbled on and on.

It seemed that he never recounted a story or even spoke a sentence unless it was about himself, and it was always after he had taken a bite of his over-priced gundark steak. You had barely gotten a word in edgewise between his stories, he never once asked you anything about yourself, and anything you said may as well have been fuel for his ramblings.

You continued sipping at your wine—your own steak barely touched thanks to his obnoxious, open-mouthed chewing—as you analyzed him, wondering what your mother’s friend could have possibly seen in this tall, lanky, self-involved governor’s son. He was not unattractive, with dark hair and sharp features, but his attitude had canceled that out straight away. If you were being honest with yourself, you were so disinterested that you could not even remember his name.

Your mother’s friend had meant well when she had set up the date for you, but even your mother had done a double-take at you when you had agreed to go. You were not normally one to go on a blind date, and this experience was only reinforcing that you never would again. Finally tired of his incessant chatter, you downed your wine and signaled a passing waiter droid so you could pay the tab and be done with him.

“Eager to get home?” he asked, smirking at you around a mouthful of food.

“Something like that,” you muttered blandly, inserting your credit chip into the droid. Your skin crawled while you waited for the payment to process. He had looked at his dinner the same way he was eyeing you now, like a piece of meat. The droid beeped a few times to signal that the payment had gone through, so you quickly grabbed your wool-lined coat and practically sped to the exit.

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to a lady who likes to treat,” he laughed. He tossed his napkin over his leftover food as he rose, bumping the table less than gracefully, and quickly followed after you.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you stepped into the turbolift that took you swiftly to the practically deserted streets below. Although Coruscant did not technically have seasons, it had been uncharacteristically chilly for the past few days in your district, keeping the normal foot traffic away. You cringed a little from the feeling of your date’s eyes still on you, and it made your stomach churn.

“Listen, I’m really not feeling all that well, tonight,” you said over your shoulder, trying to gauge just how close he was. The air in the small lift was becoming rather thick, making you feel boxed in. “I think I just need to go home.”

He ignored the implied sentiment completely, his hands coming up to grip your upper arms as the turbolift came to a stop. “Bet I could make you feel better, babe,” he said, his voice low and slippery.

Utterly disgusted by his behavior, you shrugged out of his grasp before he could come any closer. “Please, don’t touch me.”

“Hey, come on now!” he protested bluntly as you nearly launched yourself out the opening doors.

The chilled air felt like a blessing after the short lift ride, and you started toward a cab stand further down the lamplit street to call for a ride.

“What? You don’t want to have some fun?” he called after you.

“Ugh,” you groaned. “Seriously? I just said I don’t feel very well and you’re coming on to me? What’s the matter with you? For an official’s son, your manners are severely lacking.”

His eyes narrowed and he immediately lost all of the poorly practiced suavely mannerisms. You had clearly struck a nerve, and he took a purposeful, dangerously slow step toward you. “All right then, babe, maybe I won’t show you a good time. Maybe I should just take you somewhere nice and quiet and show you how I’d use that smart little mouth of yours.”

Every bit of instinct you possessed was screaming at the threat he now posed, but you stood your ground. You had taken an impressive number of martial arts classes your entire life—courtesy of your mother—and even with the alcohol in your system, you knew you were more than a match. Even still, you wished the street had not been so deserted.

“Don’t even try it. I could knock you cold,” you said boldly, subtly widening your stance in case he tried anything. The adrenaline was spiking through you now, sharpening your focus and your anger.

Just as you were anticipating, he lunged at you, grabbing at whatever part of you he could reach. Luckily for you, you were much faster. You ducked away from your assailant’s hand, managing to plant the heel of your palm into his nose and your opposite fist into his throat. He immediately coughed and sputtered, but managed to take hold of your arm and pull you off-balance as he doubled over. While you struggled against his grip with a loud snarl, you heard several sets of heavy boots racing toward you.

“Hey!” you heard a deep, modulated voice shout. “Hey, enough! Leave her be!” You had heard that voice hundreds of times.

Clone troopers.

Suddenly, your assailant was knocked away from you and flat on his back by two massive blurs of red and white armor. The three of them landed together in a heap of limbs, leaving you to stumble back into someone else’s arms. The adrenaline and fury racing through your system made you lash out, swinging yourself around to shove whoever it was away. Your hands met more armor—redder than that of the other clones.

“Get off me!” you shouted, pushing the clone away. As the initial shock wore off, you realized these were not ordinary clones. They were Coruscant Guard officers. Well, at least the one who had caught you was. He wore kamas and a helmet vizor along with carrying two DC-17 pistols—items you knew only officers were allowed.

“Easy, miss. I—” he began, but you were already stalking away toward the cab stand again. “Miss, wait! Are you hurt?” he called after you.

Readjusting your form-fitting coat, you turned sharply to face him. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone,” you spat. You had to admit your tone was not warranted, but you could not bring yourself to care. You just wanted to go home and forget this whole horrible night had happened.

The officer held his gloved hands out placatingly, “Please, I’m only—”

“I know,” you interrupted. “Look, you saw what he did to me, and if you want a statement I’ll send one to CSF tomorrow.”

He turned as one of his men called to him, “Boss?” Your assailant was struggling in their steel-like grips even with his hands now in binders.

“Hold him there, Rydar. Be there in a minute,” the commander called back, his modulated voice deep and rich. He raised his hands to his helmet after a moment, pulling it off to reveal his face.

Even though you were so aggravated, you stopped to take in his features, a little surprised at how different he looked from the average trooper. You had seen this face dozens of times, and his beautiful bronze skin was complimented by his red and white armor, but his other features set him apart, and you thought he was rather ruggedly handsome.

His hair, a little longer than regulation on top and greying at his temples, looked like it would have normally been neatly styled if he had not just taken his helmet off. The long, lightly greying curls on top of his head fell haphazardly onto his forehead along with a few others breaking loose around the evenly-faded sides.

There was also a faint scar on the left side of his bottom lip, as though it had been badly split once and not healed properly, and a light layer of dark stubble dusted his cheeks and jaw. He was massive—tall, broad, and burly, and you suddenly felt very small. That was when you noticed he had managed to take a couple of cautious steps toward you, and you immediately backed away.

“Please, I-I just want to leave,” you choked out, a lump rising in your throat. You could feel your eyes widen in fear and prickle with tears as you looked back at your assailant. He was being held on his knees by the two other clones and glaring hatefully at you. The chill that ran down your spine had nothing to do with the cold air, and you promptly looked back to the commander, who was watching you carefully. Those sharp golden-brown eyes did not seem to miss a thing.

“Okay, that’s fine. At least let me call a ride for you,” he said soothingly, searching your face and stopping his advance. He changed course over to the cab stand, pressing several buttons on the keypad and a few more on his vambrace. In less than a minute, a long, sleek blue speeder arrived.

That’s not a normal cab. you thought to yourself. That’s a senatorial transport vehicle.

A sharply dressed Mirialan driver hastily stepped out of the speeder, tipped his cap, and opened the door for you, ignoring the rest of the scene entirely.

“Take her anywhere she wants to go,” the commander said, the crisp authority in his tone telling the driver everything he needed to know.

“Yes, sir,” the Mirialan replied, nodding to the commander and waiting for you.

Your jaw dropped open unceremoniously, your head swiveling between the red-armor-clad commander and the posh speeder. You felt frozen in place, stunned by the gesture, and you were suddenly unsure of whether or not to take the ride as the knot in your stomach clenched.

The commander gave you a soft smile and a nod, “Go. This is on the Republic.” His expression may have been calm, but his amber eyes were shining with urgency.

Swallowing thickly and tearing your gaze away from his, you muttered a small, “Thank you,” and slid into the back seat of the speeder. You looked back at the clone commander one last time as the door slid shut. He was still gently smiling at you, and his posture had relaxed marginally now that you were in the vehicle.

“Where to, miss?” the driver asked, setting the speeder in motion.

You told the driver your mother’s address, not wanting to go back to your own apartment to be all alone, and you were still looking out the back window as the speeder rose into the sky. The commander grew smaller by the second, his armor the only distinguishable part of him as the distance between you increased.

The sinking feeling in your stomach and the numbness in your limbs only became more prevalent as your adrenaline rush subsided, and you suddenly felt guilty about how you had snapped at him. You hugged yourself and gnawed at your lip when you realized just how horribly you had treated him. After all, he and his men had come to your aid, and he had been very cognizant and understanding of your feelings. Although you doubted you would ever see him again, you hoped he did not think badly of you.

***

Commander Fox watched the speeder fly off, keeping that poker face on until she was well out of sight. Behind him, he could hear his men holding her assailant down, just as he had ordered.

His blood boiled with rage at the dark-haired man trapped in Rydar and Jonor’s grips. When he and his boys had rounded the corner to find the young woman defending herself against this shabuir, every cell of his body had propelled him forward to protect her.

He could not blame her for how she had reacted to her rescuers, and now that she was safe, he could get to work. A dark scowl replaced Fox’s calm façade as he turned and strode back to his men, slipping his bucket back on and cracking his knuckles. He was so very glad the street was deserted because this pompous asshole was going to learn a lesson.

Without a word, he motioned for Jonor and Rydar to follow him down a nearby alley. The assailant kicked and thrashed and growled, but his slight frame barely phased the two clones.

Stopping a few yards from the back wall of the alley, Fox pointed to the ground in front of him. His boys came around him, tossed the assailant to the filthy duracrete in a heap, and took their places flanking their commander.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” the man shouted indignantly, pushing himself to his knees.

Fox did not hesitate. He lunged forward, and in two swift strides, he locked his massive hand around the assailant’s neck, lifting him straight off the ground and slamming him into the wall. The tall, dark-haired man instinctively clawed at Fox’s vambrace, trying desperately to loosen the hand cutting off his air supply, but the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard was taller, stronger, and far angrier.

“You must think you’re something special don’t you?” Fox said evenly, despite the situation. “You think you can just take whatever you want. You threatened to rape her, I could see it in her eyes.”

The man tried to choke out some defensive response, but the terror in his eyes gave away the truth.

“I sincerely hope you reevaluate your morals after tonight,” Fox said, the rage slipping into his tone. He quickly released the man from his binders, dropped him to his feet, and promptly backhanded him to the ground. He knew he could have knocked the man out if he had wanted to, but Fox knew his own strength, and he wanted this hut’uun to feel it. As the assailant scrambled to his feet again, Fox’s fist found the underside of his jaw, lifting him off the ground once again only to land in the grime.

The Marshal Commander stepped back and looked at the two vode beside him. Jonor and Rydar were little more than shinies, still a little skinny and trigger-happy, but he could see them itching to get a few swings in. He tipped his bucket toward the assailant, who was now groaning in agony, giving the boys the green light.

“Ten seconds. Leave him conscious and let him walk home,” Fox said over his shoulder, giving them veiled instructions not to break any bones. The sounds of grunts, groans, and punches grew quieter as he walked back to the entrance of the alley, counting down in his head. When he got to ten, he whistled, and the boys came jogging to his side to continue their patrol. “Not a word.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison, picking up their discarded blasters and falling in step.

As they continued their patrol, Fox could not help but think of the young woman. She had been so fierce and strong, but also so very beautiful. He thought of how she had shoved him back when he had caught her, and he had been a bit surprised that she was capable of such force. Her eyes had shone with both fear and determination in the darkness, ready to fight him off, too. He quietly hoped she had made it to wherever she needed to go, and that she would recover quickly from her ordeal.

Mando'a Translations:

Shabuir - extreme insult/"jerk" but stronger

Huut'uun - coward

Next Chapter

[sleepingsun501]

I created an OC main character for my fic Sweet True Lies because the level of detail I wanted to include was going to be too difficult to manage as a traditional reader insert fic.

I'm trying something new here as I'll be writing mainly from her perspective in a reader insert/role-play style. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Meet my OC, Keeda Ionza.

[sleepingsun501]

Chapter 4: Two Truths and a Lie

Characters: Commander Fox, Commander Thorn, OC Keeda Ionza

Summary: Fox could not look away. She wore a perfect, congenial smile like a mask and carried herself with the grace of a queen, but her closed-off, stiff body language made Fox want to throw himself between her and the rest of the room—if only to shield her for a moment to let her breathe.

Rating: Chapter is rated G (Series is rated Explicit 18+)

Warnings: Language, political references, political negotiation

Word Count: 6.7k

Ao3 link

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 4!! It’s been a long time coming, but this is the last of the reworked chapters. It’s probably one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Two Truths and a Lie

Fox sighed as the steaming water coursed down his body, ducking his head under the spray and scrubbing the last suds of shampoo out of his thick curls. The heat leeched the strain from his muscles, and a few of his joints released deep, satisfying pops. He wished he had a few extra minutes, feeling the heaviness of his perpetual exhaustion weighing him down again, but he knew he would never get out if he lingered. Reluctantly, he turned the water to cold and let it reinvigorate him.

Two of the very few benefits of being a marshal commander permanently stationed on Triple Zero were private quarters and hot showers. It hardly made up for the multitudes of other issues he dealt with daily, but it was far better than the communal sonic showers his millions of brothers were forced to use in the field and on starships.

Tucking his towel low around his hips, he wiped the steam from his mirror and pulled his razor out from his refresher cabinet. He wished he did not have to shave so soon, rather liking how his slightly greying stubble made him look more distinguished and always set him apart from his brothers, but he had no choice. He had to be as presentable as possible for the gala in a few hours, and he mentally cursed whichever senator had stolen Thire from his post.

Pushing his dripping curls away from his face, Fox slathered his cheeks and jaw in shaving cream and began methodically scraping away his stubble, careful not to nick himself. As he shaved, he mulled over his resentment toward the many senators who seemed to think the Corries were their personal bodyguards instead of elite shock troopers.

The clone troopers were constantly called upon, day and night, to escort senators and other public officials to wherever they wanted to go, regardless of the private security forces that many politicians were already provided with. Even their underpaid aides were not called upon as often as the Corries were for menial tasks—the moment a senator needed to travel off-world or needed a kriffing lightbulb changed, they rang a squad of guardsmen.

The dark circles under Fox’s eyes were partially a result of this constant mismanagement, but they were not as prominent now as he had finally managed to get a few hours of solid sleep after his workout. He had also taken Thorn’s advice about dabbing some dermabacta under his eyes, which seemed to help, too.

Not only was he glad for the dreamless sleep he had gotten, but grateful that he had woken up in his bunk at all. It had only happened a few times–even once being too many for his liking–where he had woken in a different part of the base or deep in the bowels of Coruscant only to realize that he had done something he could not remember doing. 

He tried his best not to dwell on it as he rinsed his razor, focusing instead on how he somehow looked a bit younger as his skin became smooth. However, it was a sore reminder of how young he technically was. Physically, he was only about twenty-five, but he felt like he was nearly a hundred on most days because of the mental strain of the blackouts.

Each blackout required him to rewatch the footage from his helmet to see whom he had spoken with, where he had traveled, and what orders he had given, and they all secretly terrified him. He would take the knowledge of what he had done, and what he was capable of, to his grave.

Shaking himself from the dark thoughts, Fox eased a clean undershirt over his head, careful not to muss his freshly faded hair that he had slicked back into smooth waves. The ever-present greys in his once jet-black hair had ceased to bother him, especially because they seemed to be a date magnet on the incredibly rare occasions he took to venture out to 79’s. Absently, he wondered how Thorn’s night had gone with the Zeltron woman.

He smiled to himself as he pulled on his dress greys, fondly remembering a different night when Cody and Wolffe had dragged him to the bar with every intention of getting him laid. At the time, they had no idea their youngest batchmate had spent the past year carefully observing the very politicians he loathed, watching their formal, charming interactions, and quietly putting them into practice. Fox had a woman’s attention within twenty minutes that night, and Cody’s and Wolffe’s jaws had been on the deck.

Part of his charm, he had learned, came with his expression of intention. Fox had never once led anyone on, making sure an unattached night was all a lady was to expect from him. It was not that he wanted to sleep around or that he did not have feelings, but he knew he had no time for a committed relationship—even if it never stopped him from wondering how nice one would be.

He rolled his muscular shoulders in the stiff, heavy fabric of his dress uniform and checked his appearance over one last time, pulling his mind back to the present.

All right, time to focus. Just another big fancy dinner. he thought to himself, tucking his cover under his arm and echoing Thorn’s words from a few days prior.

“You’re fidgeting,” Sareel whispered concernedly as her daughter exited the speeder after her.

“Just nerves,” Keeda muttered in excuse, shivering slightly and smoothing out her flowing, dark green dress. She was glad she had chosen something with a loose skirt that she could both walk and breathe in, as the latter felt rather difficult.

“It’s nothing you haven’t done before. I have all faith in you.”

Despite her mother’s comforting words, Keeda gnawed at the inside of her cheek as she glanced around. The opulently dressed guests were arriving in droves, making introductions and greeting those they recognized with both genuine and faux smiles, la bise kisses, and graceful bows.

Maybe they’re secretly competing with each other to see who can be more generous tonight. she thought, mildly amused.

She detested the number of galas and other extravagant parties she had been forced to attend over the years. In her learned opinion, they were nothing more than expensive excuses to rub elbows with other influential and affluent people. Keeda much preferred to hold private meetings and dinners in order to discuss business or charitable donations, but she knew the one thing the exorbitantly wealthy loved to do more with their money than spend it was to show it off.

Although she herself had never required such grandiose persuasion to donate her own wealth or to work with other various charities, her mother’s tactic was flawless in that regard. Somehow, inviting celebrities and politicians to come for a night of food, drink, and dancing—and dressed in all their best finery—convinced them to loosen their purse strings for those less fortunate in a galaxy at war.

Silently, Keeda resigned herself to participating in high-class society, and she was sure the gooseflesh breaking out over her skin had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

As the daughter of the gala’s host, she started to feel the pressure as eyes were beginning to turn toward her and her mother. The sickening clench of her stomach was hard to ignore as she slapped a practiced smile on her face. 

Beneath her long, stylishly curled and plaited hair, she felt Sareel’s silk-gloved hand subtly adjust one of the X-crossed straps on her backless gown before looping their arms.

“You are so much like your father. He hated this, too, but you’ve nothing to worry about tonight, dearest. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself,” she said soothingly, ushering Keeda inside and out of the chilly air.

As they made their way closer to the grand doors of the hall, Keeda spied a few clones in their distinct red and white armor cleverly stationed in the shadows, and her nerves calmed a bit. 

Whereas many of Coruscant’s citizens had come to loathe the ever-present shock troopers, she found their presence to be a comfort, more so now than ever before. She wondered if the commander was among them, but before she could dwell on the thought, her mother was pulling her into the venue.

Sareel’s slender fingers patted her daughter’s bare forearm reassuringly as they made their way into the dazzling hall, and the sight stole Keeda’s breath away. 

The hall was massive, and the cavernous, arching glass ceiling reflected thousands of fairy lights woven into the garlands and wreaths June had no doubt spent hours setting up. The air was fragrant from the candles on each dining table, and from the same little peace blossoms that were nestled in her fashionably twisted hair. The tiny, softly twinkling lights and candles created a tranquil ambiance that seemed to warm even the darkest corners of the hall, giving Keeda a much-needed sense of calm.

While she looked around, she noticed a familiar, friendly face illuminated by the glow.

“Oh, my dear, Keeda,” Henya greeted compassionately, coming around a large, ornately set dining table.

Keeda grinned happily for the first time that evening as the tall Twi’lek woman embraced her, and the soft fur of her shawl tickled her nose. 

“Hello, Auntie,” she replied.

“You look positively divine tonight. That dress does wonders for your eyes,” Henya complimented, but her own striking yellow eyes held a trace of guilt as she pulled away. “May I steal her for a moment, Sareel?”

“Of course, of course. I will find you later, Keeda,” Sareel answered, giving her daughter a quick peck on the cheek and moving to graciously greet the other guests.

As Henya took Keeda’s hands in hers, she could practically feel the emotion rippling off her beloved aunt. Even her long violet lekku were twitching restlessly as she searched for her words.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, Auntie,” Keeda said, already having some conjecture as to what her aunt was trying to say. “What happened the other night, that’s not your fault.”

Henya sighed heavily, “I am still terribly sorry, my dear. You shouldn’t have had to endure that.” She paused for a moment, looking around before her eyes settled on a rather severe-looking couple taking flutes of dark blue, bubbling wine from a passing server. “I’m even more sorry to say that Governor Gargeli would like to speak with you before the evening’s festivities begin.”

The pit in Keeda’s stomach immediately gave way to a dull numbness that flooded through her limbs. She would recognize Governor Baylo Gargeli anywhere, even without having gone on a horrific date with his son—whose name she irritatingly still could not recall.

Thankful that there seemed to be no sign of their son, she breathed deeply and unlocked her knees to help her head clear. Might as well get this unpleasantry out of the way.

Striding forward with purpose, her father’s voice whispered in the back of her mind. Opportunity lies in the most unlikely places. 

When he had spoken those words to her so long ago, Keeda had not fully grasped their true meaning. But now, as Henya led her across the room, her sharp mind understood that the governor was about to ask something of her.

“Governor and Missus Gargeli, may I present Miss Keeda Ionza,” Henya said diplomatically.

While Gargeli might have looked unyielding on the outside, his blue eyes were benevolent. His son had inherited his looks from his father, but Keeda refused to let it unnerve her.

“Miss Ionza, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said authentically as he extended his hand.

“The pleasure is mine, Governor.” She shook his large hand firmly, conveying her directness.

“It is an esteemed honor to be invited this evening,” he remarked, releasing her to allow her to shake hands with his wife. “Although, I do wish the circumstances of our meeting would have been… less precarious,” Gargeli added softly and opened his arm. “May I?”

Keeda fought the urge to huff in frustration as she was passed to yet another arm. Did people think she was unable to walk on her own? 

Despite being on his arm, she steered the governor to a quieter corner of the hall and waited until she was sure the sharp click of her heels on the tiles was no longer audible to the other guests. She paused beside one of the massive bouquets that matched her hair, releasing herself from the escorting grip and stepping in front of the much taller man.

The governor, for all his formal appearance, looked ashamed. “I can see we don’t have much time, so I won’t waste it. I want you to know that my wife and I do not condone our son’s actions,” Gargeli whispered gravely. “Pettri was brought up to be better than that, and I sincerely apologize for any harm that has befallen you.”

Keeda’s jaw tensed as she finally remembered. Pettri Gargeli. That was the fucker’s name, but how does the governor know what happened that night? she thought pensively. Surely Pettri would’ve lied?

The governor’s Coruscanti accent was much thicker than her own, and she had to strain a bit to hear him over the growing hum of the other guests and the gentle classical music that was beginning to play. But he had her full attention as he continued.

“I also wanted to inform you personally that Pettri is no longer living on Coruscant, and he will not be returning. I’ve consigned him to my family’s homeworld, where he will be chastened in a manner befitting his actions.”

Keeda hid the wave of her relief well, only shifting her weight from one hip to the other as she took in the revelation and continued her nonchalant surveying of the incoming guests. It would have been a lie if she had said that she was not secretly dreading seeing Pettri again, even in passing. But now, the weight of that fear dissipated from her shoulders. 

“I am grateful for the measures you have taken in resolving the situation, Governor,” she replied with a slight nod of thanks, “but I sense you have more to say.”

Gargeli tapped a finger on his glass rather anxiously as he scanned the room blankly. “I’m afraid I do have another motive for speaking to you privately this evening, Miss Ionza,” he confessed. He swiftly acquired another flute of bubbling blue wine from a passing attendant and offered it to her as a gesture.

Here we go. Keeda thought. There’s always an ulterior motive. 

She was far too accustomed to being sought out and patronized for her connections or funding, especially at large gatherings, and she already had an inkling of what the governor wanted. Nonetheless, she accepted the drink to let him know she was listening, bracing herself for his request.

“As you may know, the local elections in my district are not far off.” He paused to clear his throat to emphasize the point he was about to make. “If rumors were to spread, a scandal such as this involving a member of my immediate family would potentially—”

“—Potentially negatively impact your reelection,” Keeda interrupted gracefully, briefly meeting the governor’s eyes again.

Although the smile she wore was practiced and demure, Keeda’s green eyes shone with her perceptivity. The game of negotiation was set with their pieces on the board. All she had to do was make the first move. 

He wanted a guarantee of her silence. It would mean Pettri would never be prosecuted, but she could still hope his familial punishment would be befitting of his crime. Keeda was willing to pay that price, but the question was, was the governor willing to pay his side of the cost?

“If I were to ensure no such rumors were circulated, perhaps our agreement could be mutually beneficial,” she suggested.

An intrigued look crossed Gargeli’s aristocratic face, his thick mustache twitching up in interest. “Name your terms, Miss Ionza.”

Taking a long sip from her glass, Keeda glanced back out across the room, trying to look as casual as possible. “The Terreg Ionza Medical Foundation could do more work in your district if you would consider opening more public spaces to our volunteer clinics and providing security,” she said in a low, firm tone—her throat tightening a fraction as her father’s name passed her carmine red lips. “In the past, our volunteers have encountered significant resistance in underprivileged areas, largely due to threats of local gang violence. Not only would it guarantee my silence, but it would also benefit your constituents.”

With her demands on the table, the governor nodded pensively. “I assure you, my campaign already supports the increased street surveillance in my district.”

A half-truth. Keeda noted. The wheels turned in her mind quickly. If he was going to view her as an asset, he was going to have to earn it. She could not recall Gargeli’s previous campaigns being largely focused on the medical welfare of his constituents, but he seemed to be conceding already. Perhaps a gradual sway of his opinions through the polls would get him to see just how powerful an ally she could be. In any case, she could hear the quiet desperation he held in wanting to appease her, so she decided to use it.

“I see the Coruscant Guard are here tonight,” Gargeli observed as he skimmed over the room, trying to find a convincing argument. “They have been immensely helpful in training new local security forces, so any volunteers and supplies would be well protected.”

Keeda hummed absently as she sipped her drink, allowing the governor one more unspoken chance to enhance his offer. He seemed to take the hint.

“Perhaps my wife and I will become more regular contributors to your charitable foundation as well, to ensure their success, of course,” he added, turning toward her fully.

A wave of triumph surged through Keeda’s heart as she met the governor’s eyes once more, signaling she was satisfied with his overture. Despite how much she hated playing politics, she was rather reluctantly good at it, and she raised her wine flute in a small toast. 

“To mutually beneficial work.”

“Hear, hear,” Gargeli replied, a formal smile full of admiration and respect for the sharp young woman before him working its way onto his chiseled face.

With a clink of their glasses, the deal was sealed. Gargeli would open his district more fully to the charity’s work, thousands of citizens would benefit from increased medical aid, and the charity would receive yet another new source of funds–bought and paid for with Keeda’s silence.

“Please, Governor, enjoy the evening,” she said, sweeping her hand with an elegant motion and effectively excusing herself.

Gargeli gave her a refined bow before returning to his wife’s side. Even though Pettri had been a conceited, repugnant individual, Keeda was not going to blame the father for the son’s sins. The deal had been more than fair on her part, considering what she had endured, and she had a confident feeling that the governor would not go back on his word.

Now, she had another detestable task; mingling with the upper classes. She took another long sip from her drink, hoping it would help soothe the new set of nerves making their home in her stomach, and set off into the crowd.

Several people whom she had worked with in the past caught her attention or stopped to chat with her, each offering their views on the latest cooperations with the GAR. Some approved, some did not, and some expressed their admiration for Keeda’s willingness to volunteer, but each tedious conversation seemed to draw on her energy reserves.

Even after dinner had been served—Keeda was eternally grateful her mother had not chosen that awful seafood dish to be an option—and the dancing had begun, she was finding the evening rather repetitious. She did her best to conceal it; however, there was only so much she could take.

Over the unceasing sounds of clinking glasses and light laughter filling the air, blending with the lilting music now echoing across the hall, she huffed out a weary sigh. She wished she had someone other than politicians and socialites to converse with—just someone who did not want anything from her. From the moment she stepped out of the speeder, tonight had felt more like work than the enjoyable evening she had hoped for.

Fox’s heart stuttered against his ribs as his blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

He knew from the moment he saw her that it was her. Blinking away his sudden lightheadedness, his eyes followed her every move as she wove between people, conversing briefly before moving on. They all parted for her, as though she were a goddess among mortals—even more beautiful than he remembered.

“The hell are you looking at, Vod?” Thorn asked, noting Fox’s sudden change. His older brother’s heavy brows were nearly knit together, and his scarred lips were parted in an awestruck expression. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

With Thorn’s voice pulling him out of his stupor, Fox nodded in the young woman’s direction. “She’s here,” he whispered, almost disbelieving his own words.

Thorn studied the crowd from their secluded spot—a doorway to a large, covered veranda—trying to follow Fox’s eye line. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“From th-the other night. She’s… uh… Long, dark hair, with little flowers. In the green dress. It’s her,” Fox stammered quietly as his golden-haired brother looked back out to the crowd a second time.

“Oh, wow,” Thorn breathed. He knew Fox had not lied about her appearance a few days prior, but seeing her for himself, he finally understood why Fox had been so taken with her. 

He snickered to himself because the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard was currently staring at a beautiful woman like a love-struck shiny after their first night at 79s. “You’re sure that’s her?”

“Positive.”

Fox could not look away. She wore a perfect, congenial smile like a mask and carried herself with the grace of a queen, but her closed-off, stiff body language made Fox want to throw himself between her and the rest of the room—if only to shield her for a moment to let her breathe.

“Well, go talk to her, di’kut!” Thorn laughed, nudging his ori’vod with a sharp elbow. “She looks like she could use better company than these stuffy nat-borns.” Fox opened his mouth to protest, but Thorn stopped him. “Go. You’d be shocked to know the boys and I can survive without your constant vigilance.”

Seeing her stealthily step out another door on the opposite side of the hall and onto the wrap-around veranda, Fox nearly sprinted out the door beside him—with no thanks to a playful swat on the ass from Thorn. It felt like his heart was about to jump through his nose as he quickly strode to where she had withdrawn.

Okay… okay… What am I gonna say to her? he rambled internally. Just ask her how she is, yeah? Ask her if she’s all right. No, why would she be all right? It’s only been a few days since… No, don’t bring that up unless she does. Just tell her… tell her she looks nice. She’d like to hear that. Right? Fuck. Fuck, I am an idiot. I did not think this through! 

Nevertheless, his feet propelled him forward. He paused and pressed his back against the cool alabaster wall just before turning the final corner of the building. Fox had never had any issues talking to women before, so why was he so unexpectedly flustered now? Straightening his spotless uniform, he blew out a long sigh, puffing his cheeks and clenching his fists.

Pull yourself together, Fox. You’re a kriffing Marshal Commander. You can do this.

The muffled silence was a welcome relief as Keeda stepped out of the hall. Taking a heady gulp of the chilly night air, she did not mind the goosebumps that broke out over her exposed skin as she rested her hands against the sleek metal railing. It was too cold for anyone else to want to follow her, and she needed a moment to recollect herself.

The crowds had begun gathering around to watch those waltzing about on the dance floor, and stronger liquor had begun flowing as a medley of desserts was served, but Keeda had opted to let Coruscant’s skyline dazzle her for the thousandth time instead.

Letting her eyes drift shut, she tried to savor the quiet moment and soak up the soft warmth radiating from the outdoor heater beside her. She could still see the twinkling fairy lights all around her from behind her eyelids, and she watched as they played across her blinded vision. If she had a blanket, she would have been content to stay right there until the sun rose.

Tomorrow, there would be no skyline–only the swirling blue and silver streaks of hyperspace, whisking her off to a war-torn world to deliver medical relief supplies, and she was eager for it. Like she had told June, Coruscant would always be home, but she needed to get away for a while.

She mentally grumbled as her moment was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps that ceased a few yards behind her. She half expected to find yet another aristocrat asking her to dance when she opened her eyes, but she was shocked to her very core when she looked over her shoulder.

Him. It was him. The clone commander that had come to her aid.

Keeda felt her eyes widen in surprise as he gazed at her. He was clean-shaven now, and his tussled, greying curls had been elegantly styled back, but his umber eyes still glimmered in the lights with the same care and warmth he had shown her just a few nights ago.

“You,” she breathed without thinking. Immediately, she cursed her impropriety and stumbled over her words. “I’m s-sorry. I-I meant—”

“It’s you,” he echoed softly, stepping closer. The commander cracked a roguish, bright smile—his mouth pulling a touch more to the right because of the scar on his bottom lip. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you,” she replied, and she was powerless to stop the blush creeping up her cheeks. She could tell he was trying to put her at ease, and she could not help the little grin that broke over her painted lips. 

“I never expected to see you here,” he chuckled. His voice was low and gravelly, and his eyes never left hers. “I’m glad to see you.”

“You’re too kind, Commander. If I’m being truthful, though, up till now, I’d have rather been elsewhere.”

“Really?” he asked curiously, crooking an eyebrow and tossing his gaze back into the hall for a moment. “Even with all these fine, upstanding, utterly boring people here?”

There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, and Keeda instantly relaxed despite the draft blowing across the veranda. She surprised herself with the giggle that bubbled up in her chest at his comment, and she realized it was the first time she had genuinely laughed all evening. 

“May I join you?” he asked, motioning to her opposite side. At Keeda’s permitting nod, he came to stand beside her, blocking the breeze and looking out over the ecumenopolis. 

Even while leaning down on the railing and without his signature armor, he was still so very tall and broad. His hard muscles filled out his uniform, pulling at the fabric and defining his figure, and it made Keeda wonder just how strong he was.

“Are you cold?” he asked thoughtfully.

Keeda shook her head faintly as she pulled out of her thoughts. She felt wholly safe beside him, as though he were an immovable wall protecting her from the cold and from the prying eyes of anyone who dared to look at her the wrong way.

That inkling of guilt she had felt as she was whisked away in the extravagant transport suddenly came crawling back. The last time she had seen this man, he had protected her, but she had spoken so harshly to him. She had feared she would never get the chance to apologize, and she was not about to let that chance slip away.

“Commander, I… I never thanked you properly… for the other night,” she said rather sheepishly.

He gave her a slightly puzzled look and shook his head almost imperceptibly, his eyes immediately coming to rest on her face again. “There’s no need to thank me.”

“Yes, there is,” Keeda insisted, gripping the railing and fighting the urge to shudder as she recalled the past for the dozenth time. “You and your men helped me. Something much worse might’ve happened if you hadn’t been there, and I shouldn’t have been so coarse.”

The gentlest look crossed his handsome, rounded features–one of both complete understanding and consideration. 

“You had every right to be,” he assured. “I have no doubt you could’ve taken care of yourself, but I’m glad I was there to help you.”

Keeda toyed nervously with a silver ring on her index finger as she carried on, “In any case, it’s no excuse for my behavior. I hope you’ll accept my apology, Commander.”

He turned to face her fully, leaning casually on one elbow and eyeing her charmingly. “I will, on one condition.”

How can he still look so powerful when he’s relaxed like that? Keeda asked herself, waiting for his request. He had somehow changed the very air around her so quickly that she found herself letting go of the ache in her chest.

“Will you tell me your name?”

Whatever he was doing to make her feel so calm was mesmerizing, but she could also detect a more playful tone in his question. 

“The name of someone from a crowd so upstanding and boring?” she teased, and he chuckled so heartily that Keeda swore she could feel it in her chest, prompting another laugh of her own. 

“You are anything but boring.”

She pursed her lips for a moment but gave him a cheeky grin. “Ah, but you don’t know that for sure, and I’d hate for you to think I am. So, I propose we play a little game to ensure I’m not. Have you ever played two truths and a lie?”

“Two truths and a lie?” he asked inquisitively.

Keeda nodded, fidgeting with her ring again. “I’ll tell you three things about myself. If you guess the lie, I have to tell you the truth about the lie. If you guess wrong, it’s your turn.”

The intrigued commander cocked a brow at her and smirked. “Very well, ladies first.”

She chewed her lip for a moment in thought, before settling on her lie. “My mother is the chairwoman of the foundation hosting this gala, I had a pet tooka when I was a child, and my name is Alana. Which is the lie?”

The weight of the commander’s gaze was encapsulating. As he analyzed her, she felt drawn into the depths of those dark, stunning eyes, where the twinkling lights shone off little flecks of gold.

“Your name isn’t Alana,” he said finally.

“You’re right,” she conceded with a giggle. “My name is Keeda.”

The commander did not say anything for a moment, but his expression noticeably softened. Keeda was not sure he was going to say anything until he muttered a single strange word, one she suspected was not Basic.

“Sorry?” she inquired.

“Mesh’la,” he repeated, a little louder the second time, as his cheeks darkened. “It’s Mando’a. It means ‘beautiful’.”

Keeda was certain her cheeks matched her lips with how hard she was blushing. His lips barely moved whenever he spoke, but his clear words had an impact on her so deep that she could practically feel the resonance of them in her bones, even despite how softly they were uttered. 

Unlike so many others tonight that had tried to woo her attention with overly-enunciated accents and pretty words, the true sincerity in his tone rang clear. His voice was so rich, like a lovely bass note—deep, smooth, matching the dark brown of his irises, and she suddenly craved to hear it again.

“Y-your turn, Commander,” Keeda whispered, trying to feel for the floor beneath her feet. 

He must have had his answers ready because he spoke without hesitation. “My favorite color is red, my name is Fox, and I’m a particularly good dancer.”

Keeda’s conscience came drifting back to reality as she mulled that over. Would he lie about his name, too? she wondered. It seemed logical, and she was normally very accurate when it came to noticing lies, but he could also have been trying to throw her off. He had never looked her in the eye at all, though, choosing to focus on the little flowers woven through her hair.

Sighing as she gave up trying to guess, Keeda settled on his name. “I… I don’t think your name is Fox.”

He flashed that white smile again. It contrasted so beautifully against his bronzed skin, and for the first time, she realized that she was more dazzled by the handsome man in front of her than the skyline she had come out to observe. His mere presence was brighter than any of the lights twinkling around them, and he exuded an affection that quieted any troubles in her mind.

“My name is Fox,” he said truthfully.

“Fox,” she repeated, bowing her head in mock defeat. “You’ve bested me. Where’d you learn to lie so well?”

“You pick up a thing or two when you’re around politicians all—”

As if on cue, he was interrupted as a group of guests came out onto the veranda, laughing boisterously and talking amongst themselves, trying to ward off the buzz they had going with the cool night air. 

Keeda silently glared at them for having dared interrupt the peace, but they took no notice. They took their time wandering away, but the door they had opened let a new melody waft outside. It was a slower tune, but just as grand and orchestral as the others that had been playing all evening.

Distracted, Keeda swayed her weight from one foot to the other to the music, feeling the skirt of her dress fluttering around her legs. It had been so long since she danced, and her thoughts drifted back to the last time her father had taught her the steps of several common waltzes in the middle of their living room.

She heard Fox shift and clear his throat softly beside her to get her attention, and as she turned back, she found the commander smiling kindly and holding out his hand to her.

“Will you do me the honor?” he asked, tucking his gloves into his pocket.

“Another truth?” she asked, resting her hand in his palm. His hand was calloused and strong, but his fingers were long and warm as they closed around hers ever so tenderly, leading her to the middle of the veranda.

The crowd had thinned a bit for the evening, and Keeda suspected this would be one of the last dances of the night, but she was glad to share it with Fox. They had the whole space to themselves, and she was no longer aware of any other eyes on her apart from his.

Her breath caught in her throat when she felt his other hand settle around her bare lower back beneath her hair. His fingertips left trails of fire in their wake as they gently grazed her air-cooled skin, but she eased into his hold as he began guiding her down the length of the veranda. The steps he chose were uncomplicated, but she was impressed with the natural skill he seemed to possess as he swept her down the length of the open space.

“You were definitely telling the truth,” she laughed giddily, enjoying how easily they moved together.

He arched his left arm and twirled her out beneath it before stepping in and sweeping her back into his grasp. “Don’t tell anyone, but I have my brother to thank for that,” Fox admitted, slowing a fraction with the timing of the music.

“Don’t you have a million brothers?” Keeda asked lightheartedly. 

The man she was dancing with now looked so different from the stoic commander she had first met. A single stray curl had fallen loose on his forehead as he spun her around himself, and he practically beamed at her.

“This one is special. He somehow inherited all the natural dancing talent, so we just copied him. He’s the commander of the 104th battalion.”

Keeda stumbled in surprise, gripping Fox’s burly shoulder for support, but he was quicker and gathered her into a graceful spin to let her recover, bringing her body flush to his as the music crescendoed. 

A star could have exploded between them with the heat of their bodies pressed together, and Keeda would have happily melted into it. The unexpected rush of adrenaline clouded her peripheral vision as Fox effortlessly lifted her off her feet, but his arm secured around her waist kept her grounded. 

After gently resting her back on her feet, Fox was the first to break the contact—although he seemed incredibly reluctant to do so–to continue leading her through the dance. He could feel the strength of her lean muscles beneath his touch, and he had no doubt of just how capable she was, but here she seemed so precious in his hold as if she were his to safeguard. Her smile, the blooming trust in her sparkling eyes, and the surety of her grasp on him made him feel lighter than he had in years.

“I’m assigned to the 104th as their official volunteer,” Keeda said quickly, remembering why she had misstepped in the first place.

Fox chuckled, remembering himself and spinning her out again just to show her off to anyone who might be watching. “You’ll like Wolffe. We grew up together as batchmates. He’s very stubborn and gruff, but he has a good heart.”

They stepped together again as the music ceased and the hall beside them burst into applause. The other dancers and guests began to say their goodbyes, but Fox and Keeda simply stood there under the twinkling lights, panting together from the exertion of the dance.

As Fox continued to hold her, Keeda drank in the woodsy, slightly spicy scent of him mixed with the fragrance of the flowers in her hair. She could not bring herself to put any more distance between herself and the commander, and she actively fought the urge to lean back into his embrace.

He gently brushed the back of her hand with his calloused thumb and would have been content to stay as long as she liked, but the commlink on his wrist beeped. Still holding her hand, Fox released her slender waist and turned his right wrist over to silence the beeping.

“Ah, forgive me. Duty calls.”

As his fingers brushed over the device, Keeda noticed the knuckles on his right hand were slightly blotched with fresh bruises. 

“I… I hope I’ll see you again, Fox.”

He grinned down at her and gave her fingers a delicate squeeze. “Me too. Be safe, Keeda. I’d trust him with my life, so do whatever Wolffe tells you to do.”

She felt a pang of longing as his hand left hers, and he turned to join the other guardsmen waiting in the shadows at the other end of the veranda. How long have they been standing there? she wondered, the heat lighting up her cheeks. 

It did not truly matter, though, because her heart stuttered as a deep ache crept into her chest with the blush, and she yearned to be near him just one more time.

“Fox, wait!” she called, and he was immediately before her again with a questioning look on his face. “Please, before you go… what’s your favorite color?”

Although he virtually towered over her, Fox took her hand again and bowed slightly, capturing her gaze once more. His lips were warm and delicate as he pressed an impossibly soft kiss against the smooth, thin skin of Keeda’s knuckles, and a mixture of shock and delight flooded through her body.

Smiling brilliantly at her, he replied, “Green.”

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[sleepingsun501]

Chapter 1: Eyes Do Not Lie

Characters: Commander Fox, OC Keeda Ionza, OC clone troopers

Summary: Commander Fox rescues a young woman, Keeda Ionza, from a disastrous date.

Rating: Explicit 18+, no smut

Warnings: SA threat (just the threat, nothing further), graphic depictions of violence, one use of r-word.

Word Count: 3.2k

Ao3 link

A/N: CHAPTER 1 UPDATED: 03/30/2023. Hello and welcome to the updated version of Sweet True Lies. It has been reworked into 3rd person and will follow my OCs and canon characters POV's from here on out. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!! This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence and an SA threat (just the threat, nothing further), so if you're not ok with those, don't read. A huge thank you to @rexxdjarin and @wild-karrde for being my amazing beta readers!!

Next Chapter

Eyes Do Not Lie

Keeda sipped at her wine, slouching back into the luxuriously plush chair of the over-the-top restaurant overlooking Coruscant’s skyline. She already disliked coming to these kinds of establishments for her mother’s charity functions, so coming to one for a date was not exactly her idea of a fun evening. Sighing purely out of boredom, she crossed her legs and gazed out the glass wall beside her table.

Having grown up with an abundance of wealth from her late father, a bitter taste was left in her mouth when it came to the upper classes of the Core Worlds. The posh lifestyle and the overinflated sense of self-importance most of her socialite friends—if Keeda could really call them friends—possessed was off-putting, to say the least. She had never been one to buy the most expensive clothes and trinkets or follow the latest trends that made their way through the materialistic society, and she glumly wished that one of them were here to take her place.

Tonight, she would have rather been down in the night markets, eating steaming food straight from vendor stalls and watching various street performers—things she remembered doing with her father before he died. He taught her the true value of wealth from a young age, how to maintain it, and how to use her fortunate position in life to help others.

After her father was gone, she had spent the majority of her free time volunteering and working for the charity organization her brilliant surgeon mother had founded in his memory. She even earned her university degree in finance to prepare herself to take over the charity someday.

Keeda had met people of all different species from all different places across the galaxy through her work, and her workload had only doubled since the Clone Wars had started. So, on a rare night off, she had somewhat hoped to be swept off her tired feet for a change.

She gazed out the window at the darkening sky, the towering skyscrapers, and the speeder traffic as she mused in her memories, barely listening to her date anymore. It’s so beautiful here at night. she thought, swirling the pale, bubbling liquid in her glass. The glittering skyline itself never failed to dazzle her—something her date was currently failing at.

“And I also have—well, my father has—a summer home on… And one time I… Did I mention that I…” her date rambled.

Maker, he just doesn’t shut up about himself. she grumbled inwardly, taking another sip of the expensive, sparkling white wine. Keeda was certain the sweet, crisp flavor of the fruity alcohol and the promise of a buzz were the only things that would get her through the evening as the young man seated across from her babbled on and on.

It seemed that he never recounted a story or even spoke a sentence unless it was about himself, and it was always after he had taken a bite of his over-priced gundark steak. She had barely gotten a word in edgewise between his stories, he never once asked her anything about herself, and anything she said may as well have been fuel for his ramblings.

She continued sipping at her wine—her own steak barely touched thanks to his obnoxious, open-mouthed chewing—as she analyzed him, wondering what her mother’s friend could have possibly seen in this tall, lanky, self-involved governor’s son. He was not unattractive, with dark hair and sharp features, but his attitude had canceled that out straight away. If she were being honest with herself, she was so disinterested that she could not even remember his name.

Her mother’s friend had meant well when she had set up the date for her, but even her mother had done a double-take at her when she had agreed to go. Keeda was not normally one to go on a blind date, and this experience was only reinforcing that she never would again. Finally tired of his incessant chatter, she downed her wine and signaled a passing waiter droid so she could pay the tab and be done with him.

“Eager to get going?” he asked, smirking at her around a mouthful of food.

“Something like that,” Keeda muttered blandly, inserting her credit chip into the droid. Her skin crawled while she waited for the payment to process. He had looked at his dinner the same way he was eyeing her now, like a piece of meat.

The droid beeped a few times to signal that the payment had gone through, so she quickly grabbed her wool-lined coat and practically sped to the exit.

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to a lady who likes to treat,” her date laughed. He tossed his napkin over his leftover food as he rose, bumping the table less than gracefully, and quickly followed after her.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Keeda stepped into the turbolift that took her swiftly to the practically deserted streets below. Although Coruscant did not technically have seasons, it had been uncharacteristically chilly for the past few days in her district, keeping the normal foot traffic away. She cringed a little from the feeling of her date’s eyes still on her, and it made her stomach churn.

“Listen, I’m really not feeling all that well, tonight,” she said over her shoulder, trying to gauge just how close he was. The air in the small lift was becoming rather thick, making her feel boxed in. “I think I just need to go home.”

He ignored the implied sentiment completely, his hands coming up to grip her upper arms as the turbolift came to a stop. “Bet I could make you feel better, babe,” he said, his voice low and slippery.

A potent anger began to swell in her chest and pulsed up her neck. Just get out of here. she thought. Utterly disgusted by his behavior, Keeda shrugged out of his grasp before he could come any closer. “Please, don’t touch me.”

“Hey, come on now!” he protested bluntly as she nearly launched herself out the opening doors.

The chilled air felt like a blessing after the short lift ride, and she hastily started toward a cab stand further down the lamplit street to call for a ride.

“What? You don’t want to have some fun?” the man called after her.

So, he’s going to be like this. Lovely. Keeda groaned internally, thoroughly pissed off now. She scowled darkly as she turned to face him. “Seriously? I just said I don’t feel very well and you’re coming on to me? What is the matter with you? For an official’s son, your manners are severely lacking.”

His eyes narrowed and he immediately lost all of the poorly practiced suavely mannerisms. She had struck a nerve, and he took a purposeful, dangerously slow step toward her. “All right then, babe, maybe I won’t show you a good time. Maybe I should just take you somewhere nice and quiet and show you how I’d use that smart little mouth of yours.”

Every bit of instinct she possessed was screaming at the threat he now posed, but she stood her ground. Her lifelong martial arts training kicked in, and she subtly widened her stance. Even with the alcohol in her system, she knew she was more than a match. Still, she wished the street had not been so deserted.

“Don’t even try it. I could knock you cold,” she said boldly, attempting to put him off trying anything. The adrenaline was spiking through her now as he came ever closer, sharpening her focus and her anger, but just as she was anticipating, he lunged at her.

“You little bitch!” he snarled, infuriated by her threat. He wildly grabbed at whatever part of her he could reach, and she deftly ducked away.

“Hey!” a deep, modulated voice shouted in the distance.

But she was too focused on planting the heel of her palm into her assailant’s nose and her opposite fist into his throat to hear the voice. He immediately coughed and sputtered, but managed to take hold of her arm and pull her off-balance as he doubled over. While she struggled against his grip with a loud snarl, she heard several sets of heavy boots racing toward them.

“Hey, enough! Leave her be!” the modulated voice shouted again. Keeda had heard that voice hundreds of times.

Clone troopers.

Suddenly, the assailant was knocked away from her and flat on his back by two massive blurs of red and white armor. The three of them landed together in a heap of limbs, leaving Keeda to stumble back into someone else’s arms. The adrenaline and fury racing through her system made her lash out, swinging herself around to shove whoever it was away. Her hands met more armor—redder than that of the other clones.

“Get off me!” she shouted, pushing the clone away. As the initial shock wore off, she realized these were not ordinary clones. They were Coruscant Guard officers. Well, at least the one who had caught her was. He wore kamas and a helmet vizor along with carrying two DC-17 pistols—items she knew only officers were allowed.

“Easy, miss. I—” he began, but she was already stalking away toward the cab stand again. “Miss, wait! Are you hurt?” he called after her.

Readjusting her form-fitting coat, Keeda turned sharply to face him. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone,” she spat. She had to admit her tone was not warranted, but she could not bring herself to care. All she wanted was to go home and forget this whole horrible night had happened.

The officer held his gloved hands out placatingly, “Please, I’m only—”

“I know!” she interrupted, huffing and trying to collect herself. “Look, you saw what he did to me, and if you need a statement I’ll send one to CSF tomorrow.”

“Boss?” one of the guardsmen called. The assailant was struggling in their steel-like grips even with his hands now in binders, adamantly demanding to be released.

“Hold him there, Rydar. Be there in a minute,” the commander called back, his modulated voice deep and rich. He raised his hands to his helmet after a moment, pulling it off to reveal his face.

Even though Keeda was so aggravated, she stopped to take in his features, a little surprised at how different he looked from the average trooper. She had seen this face dozens of times, and his beautiful bronze skin was complimented by his red and white armor, but his other features set him apart, and she thought he was rather ruggedly handsome.

His hair, a little longer than regulation on top and greying at his temples, looked like it would have normally been neatly styled if he had not just taken his helmet off. The long, lightly greying curls on top of his head fell haphazardly onto his forehead along with a few others breaking loose around the evenly-faded sides.

There was also a scar on the left side of his bottom lip, as though it had once been badly split and not healed properly, and a light layer of dark, grey-laced stubble dusted his cheeks and jaw. He was massive—tall, broad, and burly, and Keeda suddenly felt very small. That was when she noticed he had managed to take a couple of cautious steps toward her, and she immediately backed away.

“Please… I-I just want to leave,” she choked out, a lump rising in her throat. She could feel her eyes widen in fear and prickle with tears as she looked back at her assailant. He was being held on his knees by the two other clones and glaring hatefully at her now. The chill that ran down her spine had nothing to do with the cold air, and she promptly looked back to the commander, who was watching her carefully. Those sharp brown eyes did not seem to miss a thing.

Holding her frightened gaze, he nodded. “Okay, that’s fine. At least let me call a ride for you,” he said soothingly, searching her face and stopping his advance. He changed course over to the cab stand, pressing several buttons on the keypad and a few more on his vambrace. In less than a minute, a long, sleek blue speeder arrived.

That’s not a normal cab. Keeda thought to herself. That’s a senatorial transport vehicle.

A sharply dressed Mirialan driver hastily stepped out of the speeder, tipped his cap, and opened the door for her, ignoring the rest of the scene entirely.

“Take her anywhere she wants to go,” the commander said, the crisp authority in his tone telling the driver everything he needed to know.

“Yes, sir,” the Mirialan replied, nodding to the commander and waiting for her.

Her jaw dropped open unceremoniously, her head swiveling between the red-armor-clad commander and the posh speeder. She felt frozen in place, stunned by the gesture, and she was suddenly unsure of whether or not to take the ride as the knot in her stomach clenched.

The commander gave Keeda a soft smile and a nod. His expression may have been calm, but his dark eyes were shining with urgency. “Go. This is on the Republic.”

Swallowing thickly and tearing her gaze away from his, she muttered a small, “Thank you,” and slid into the back seat of the speeder. She looked back at the clone commander one last time as the door slid shut. He was still gently smiling at her, and his posture had relaxed marginally now that she was in the vehicle.

“Where to, miss?” the driver asked, setting the speeder in motion.

She told the driver her mother’s address, not wanting to go back to her own apartment to be all alone. She was still looking out the back window as the speeder rose into the sky—the commander grew smaller by the second, his armor the only distinguishable part of him as the distance between them increased.

The sinking feeling in her stomach and the numbness in her limbs only became more prevalent as her adrenaline rush subsided, and she suddenly felt guilty about how she had snapped at him. She hugged herself and gnawed at her lip when she realized just how horribly she had treated him. After all, he and his men had come to her aid, and he had been very cognizant and understanding of her feelings. Although Keeda doubted she would ever see him again, she hoped he did not think badly of her.

Commander Fox watched the speeder fly off, keeping that poker face on until she was well out of sight. Behind him, he could hear his men holding her assailant down, just as he had ordered.

His blood boiled with rage at the dark-haired man trapped in Rydar and Jonor’s grips. He had rounded the corner just in time to see this shabuir lunge for the young woman, and every cell in his body had propelled him forward to help her.

He could not blame her for how she had reacted to him catching her after his boys had knocked the assailant to the ground. She had done an admirable job of defending herself in the situation, and he was impressed with how fierce she had been, but now that she was safe, he could get to work.

A dark scowl crept across Fox’s features as he turned and strode back to his men, slipping his bucket back on and cracking his knuckles. He was so very glad the street was deserted because this pompous asshole was going to learn a lesson.

Without a word, he motioned for Jonor and Rydar to follow him down a nearby alley. The assailant kicked and thrashed and growled, but his slight frame barely phased the two clones.

Stopping a few yards from the back wall of the alley, Fox pointed to the ground in front of him. His boys came around him, tossed the assailant to the filthy duracrete in a heap, and took their places flanking their commander.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” the man shouted indignantly, pushing himself to his knees.

Fox did not hesitate. He lunged forward, and in two swift strides, he locked his massive hand around the assailant’s neck, lifting him straight off the ground and slamming him into the wall. He did, in fact, recognize him as the son of a prominent Coruscanti governor.

The tall, dark-haired man instinctively clawed at Fox’s vambrace, trying desperately to loosen the hand cutting off his air supply, but the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard was taller, stronger, and far angrier.

“You’re the son of Governor Baylo Gargeli,” Fox said evenly, despite the situation. “You must think you’re something special, don’t you? You think you can just take whatever you want. You threatened to rape her, I could see it in her eyes.”

The man tried to choke out some defensive response, but the terror in his eyes gave away the truth.

“I sincerely hope you reevaluate your morals after tonight,” Fox said, the rage slipping into his tone. He quickly released the man from his binders and dropped him to his feet, stepping back a pace.

As soon as the assailant had caught his breath, he snarled in a rage and threw an unskilled punch at the commander. He was promptly backhanded to the ground by Fox, who had been fully prepared for the possibility of retaliation. As the assailant scrambled to his feet again, Fox’s fist found the underside of his jaw, nearly lifting him off the ground once again only to land in the grime.

Fox knew he could have knocked the man out if he had wanted to, but he knew his own strength, and he wanted this hut’uun to feel it.

The marshal commander stepped back again and looked at the two vode beside him. Jonor and Rydar were little more than shinies, still a little skinny and trigger-happy, but he could see them on their toes. He tipped his bucket toward the assailant, who was now groaning in agony, giving the boys the green light.

“If he’s stupid enough to swing again, you get ten seconds. Leave him conscious and let him walk home,” Fox said over his shoulder, giving them veiled instructions not to break any bones. This guy is out of his mind. he thought to himself, hearing the moment the assailant decided to try his failing luck against Jonor and Rydar.

The sounds of grunts, groans, and punches grew quieter as he walked back to the entrance of the alley, counting down in his head. When he got to ten, he whistled, and the boys came jogging to his side to continue their patrol. “Not a word.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison, picking up their discarded blasters and falling in step.

As they continued their patrol, Fox could not help but think of the young woman. She had been so fierce, beautiful, and strong, and he did his best to push the fear of what could have happened to her out of his mind. Instead, he thought of how she had shoved him back when he had caught her, and he had been a bit surprised that she was capable of such force. Her eyes had shone with both fear and determination in the darkness, ready to fight him off, too. He quietly hoped she had made it to wherever she needed to go, and that she would recover quickly from her ordeal.

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[sleepingsun501]

Chapter 3: The Prices of Service

Characters: Commander Fox, Commander Thorn, OC Keeda Ionza, OC June Makano

Summary: If he was not here to protect them, his position would likely go to Thorn or Thire, and that was something he would never wish on his vode. Fox had decided long ago that if his suffering spared his brothers, he would endure it.

Rating: Explicit 18+, no smut

Warnings: Clone trooper dehumanization, residual anxiety

Word Count: 4.4k

Ao3 link

A/N: CHAPTER 3 UPDATED: 06/20/2023. Hello and welcome to the updated Chapter 3 of Sweet True Lies!! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!!

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The Prices of Service

Keeda gasped as she jerked herself awake, looking around and briefly wondering where she was. You’re in your old room. Relax. You’re okay. she told herself as she got her bearings.

An annoyed meow came from the black-striped lump of tan fur next to her feet as she reached over and grabbed the remote on her nightstand, reducing the dark opaque tint of her windows to let in the morning light. “Sorry, Chuffs,” she apologized to her mother’s tooka cat.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the harsh light bouncing off Coruscant's surface and nestled herself back into her cloudy pillows, not quite ready to leave the warmth of her large bed.

A pair of large pointy ears twitched as Chuffs stood up briefly and stretched languidly as the light reached her, giving Keeda a curious look before settling back down in her warm spot with a purr.

Scrunching her fingers through her tangled hair as she took in the morning, Keeda’s thoughts wandered back to the dream she had been having. It had not been unpleasant—quite the opposite: Someone’s strong arms had pulled her close with whispers of reassurance and safety, enveloping her with so much warmth she could have melted into them.

She mused over it for a moment, twisting a bit to look at her upper arm and wondering why she had such a comforting dream after such a tumultuous night. As she prodded the bruise-free skin to check for any residual soreness, she figured a nightmare would have been more fitting, but none had come.

“Good morning, Mistress Keeda,” N2’s soft, high-pitched, mechanical voice said as he shuffled into her room. He was holding a breakfast tray laden with what looked like muffins, scrambled nuna eggs, sliced shuura fruit, and her favorite tea.

Keeda stretched and yawned before sitting up, realizing absently that she had slept much further into the morning than she normally did. Just a few years prior, after inheriting the leading share of ownership of her father’s galaxy-wide shipping company, Interplanetary Cargo Carriers, she had begun rising with the sun each day. 

She typically carried out most of her meetings and flimsiwork in the waking hours to leave the rest of her day open, and she had thrown herself into assisting her mother with running the charity in her spare time.

The routine had become a bit monotonous over the years as Terreg Ionza had so skillfully built and structured the company that his daughter barely had to touch it, leaving Keeda the financial freedom others could only dream of. 

Still, she heeded her father’s advice and checked in with her business teams, other shareholders, and financial advisors almost daily, and the company continued to flourish even through the outbreak of the Clone Wars.

Today, however, already felt off-kilter due to the abrupt change in pace.

“Morning, N2. What’s all this?” she asked, untangling herself from the velvety blankets and trying not to disturb Chuffs a second time.

“Oh, Mistress Sareel was insistent that you have something to eat before you leave,” N2 replied.

She rubbed her eyes groggily as N2 set the meal down on the marble night table. Her stomach rumbled loudly as the scent of the fresh, berry-laden muffins and fluffy eggs finally registered, remembering how little she had eaten the night before.

Sipping the milky, steaming tea and nibbling a muffin, Keeda skimmed the news on her comm and answered a few messages from her business teams as she did every morning. Articles recounting the Republic Navy’s latest victories and defeats rerouting trade and travel hyperspace lanes littered the screen, and it had become a new weekly normal for her to approve or reject what shipping lanes the ICC would utilize among her usual tasks.

But as hard as she tried to focus, she found her mind wandering back to her dream. It was fading quickly as she fully woke, but the sense of security of those imaginary arms around her had greatly lessened her residual anxiety. Not wanting to give that anxiety any opportunity to return, she tried to burn the dream into her brain.

“Is there anything you require before I begin the household chores, Mistress Keeda?” N2 asked, carrying her hamper from her bathroom.

“No, thank you, N2. You have done plenty for me already,” Keeda replied, giving the droid a smile. She knew N2 could not feel emotions—he was simply programmed to respond—but she had always been polite to him nonetheless.

As she tucked into her breakfast, she remembered her mother’s request to check on the floral arrangements for the gala and sent a quick text comm to June, telling her she would be stopping by.

In a last-second decision, she also took the opportunity to inform June of the details of the previous evening. She was well aware that June never answered personal calls while working, and therefore would not call herself, but Keeda received several long texts full of enraged expletives and exclamations within just a few minutes.

June had always been hotheaded, so Keeda took her time in eating and dressing, figuring her best friend would have vented out a lot of that initial steam by the time she arrived if she did not rush. Instead, she savored the morning, and her delicious breakfast, for once and turned her thoughts toward preparing for the gala.

Nothing about the Clone Wars had slowed down the charity foundation’s work, but it had physically condensed it to Core and Mid-Rim worlds, much like the ICC had, as new battle maps were drawn every day in every sector of the galaxy. The charity had also been forced to cut its ties with Separatist worlds, though Keeda knew some of the medical outposts on those worlds had continued to function without proper funds, manned now only by the very people they had been constructed to help.

With the organization now officially partnering with the GAR, however, the work could continue on Loyalist worlds outside of the Core and Mid-Rim. Keeda had already received the information about the battalion she would be attached to for the foreseeable future, and she sincerely hoped the clones would accept working with her in the field. Deep down, she had been a little worried they would always see her as an outsider.

An hour later found her stepping out of a taxi and onto a wide, sunny pedestrian walkway in a neighboring district. The air was still chilly, but the sun managed to take the bite of the wind away as Coruscant hummed with life around her. Citizens of all species bustled about and children laughed as if there were no war at all to speak of, and she joined the flow of the crowd.

How privileged we are just to see the sun on this planet when others go their whole lives in the lower levels. You were born into that privilege, my dearest. Use it to help others. Terreg’s words echoed through Keeda’s mind deeply as she walked, listening to the dull thudding of her boots on the duracrete join the symphony of footsteps.

In a matter of minutes, a long, tall greenhouse stretched down the length of the block before her, made entirely of glass walls and windows—just one of ten identical buildings laid out parallel to each other. A much smaller, older structure sat at the end of the first building, with a glowing sign projected onto the ancient-looking brick that read ‘Makano Greenhouses,’ and she made her way to the door.

The air inside the main shop was warm and damp, and it was like stepping into an entirely different world. The fresh scents of thousands of varieties of flowers, vegetables, fruits, and shrubbery the Makano family had grown for nearly two centuries in their greenhouses all wafted to greet her like a warm embrace, spiriting her away from the ecological barrenness of Coruscant. She suspected the shuura fruit she had eaten for breakfast had come from these greenhouses.

Inhaling the perfumy fragrances deeply, Keeda pressed the service button on the front desk, taking the time to admire all the glittering vases, fruit baskets, and pre-arranged flower displays already up for sale.

“Be there in a second, Keeds,” a light feminine voice said, echoing through a speaker. 

June Makano was the latest generational owner of her family’s greenhouses and Keeda’s best friend from their time at university.

Although the greenhouses were an incredibly lucrative business over the centuries—being one of the last few remaining places on-world providing food and décor to Coruscant’s upper classes—the Makano family had used them as a cover for less legitimate business for just as long.

True to her word, a few moments later, a delicately curvy young woman with bright ginger hair and equally bright hazel eyes came jogging in through the shop’s back door. 

“Fucking hell, girl,” she greeted in typical June fashion, wiping her hands on a rag and pulling her friend into a tight hug.

“Hey, June,” Keeda replied. She hugged her back, glad to see her initial, explosive temper had cooled already. 

“You nearly gave me a heart attack this morning with your message. How’re you holding up?”

“I’m coping, could’ve been worse,” she added dismissively. However, her remaining unease must have still been shining through her expression because June cocked a disbelieving, fiery eyebrow at her.

The two had become like sisters over the years, and it still baffled Keeda to no end how the redhead was always able to know exactly how she felt, reading people like open books.

As if on cue, the way June pursed her lips was another classic indicator that she knew Keeda was still not all right, but Keeda ignored it and annoyedly huffed out a tired breath, leaning against the counter.

“Okay, I’m not gonna make you talk about it,” June said quietly and rubbing her friend’s arm affectionately, “but you know I’m here if you need to. You know I can still get Naiyo to deal with him, too, right?”

Keeda chuckled dryly and rolled her eyes. Naiyo Makano was the last person she wanted to be involved in her dating life again. “No, thanks. I don’t want your rum-running twin brother and his gangsters getting themselves into any more trouble on my account.”

“He still cares about you, but I get it. The offer always stands, though. Now, come on, let me show you the flowers for tomorrow,” June said in a singsong voice, effectively dropping the subject.

June led her through the back door and past the greenhouses to an enormous workshop. It looked equally as ancient as the main shop with all its exposed brick and dark steel rafters, and the sunlight streaming through the high windows glittered off little dust motes in the air.

Specialized droids hovered about, arranging several varieties of colorful flowers into garlands, bouquets, and centerpieces for the gala. Keeda recognized some of the larger flower varieties, but there were also unfamiliar, tiny, shining white blossoms on wiry vines mixed into the arrangements.

“Let your mum know everything will be delivered this afternoon, and I’ll be there personally tonight to make sure they’re set up properly,” June said, taking an extra bundle of the blossoms and handing them to Keeda. “These would look really pretty in your hair tomorrow.”

“What are these?” she asked curiously. The little shimmering flowers gave off a delicate, but musky-sweet scent, unlike anything she had smelled before. They were also surprisingly resilient as she touched them, despite being so small.

“They’re a variety of peace blossoms from Naboo,” June explained, lifting the end of a garland into a transport crate. “Your mum asked for those particularly, so I had to use the hydroponic systems and pure light to get them to grow faster. She said it was to represent a quick end to the war with the help of all the relief volunteers.”

“Trust my mum to weave poetic symbolism into everything,” Keeda mumbled, tilting the little flowers in her palm. Their sheen reflected a faint bluish-green hue beneath the milky petals as she heard June pause her work. From the tone of her sigh, Keeda could tell she was worried. “You still don’t think I should have volunteered?”

June looked away as she shook her shoulder-length orange hair out of its clip to readjust it. “I just don’t want you to get hurt or anything. Just because you’re only going on relief missions doesn’t mean it’s safe, Keeds. You could be attacked at any time.”

“Now you really sound like my mum,” Keeda muttered sardonically. She knew June meant well, but even she knew Keeda had been screaming internally for months from being cooped up on Coruscant. “I’ll be with the troops the whole time. They’ll keep any droids out of my way, and I’m a decent shot myself.”

June gave her a reproachful look, but she clipped her hair back up and shrugged. “Just… be careful. You’re my best friend.”

“I know and I will be careful. But you know exactly how badly I need to get off this kriffing planet. I need some fresh air, quite literally a different atmosphere. It’s beautiful here, in its own way, and it’ll always be home, but I need some change.” 

Keeda stepped a bit closer and lowered her voice a notch, shaking her head, “And you were right before, June. I’m not entirely fine, especially after last night. Getting away right now is the best thing I can do.”

She could tell June was holding back her tears from the way she looked around rapidly and started chewing on her plump, pink bottom lip. Keeda pulled her into a more solid hug, aware that it may be the last chance she got before she shipped out the morning after the gala. “I promise, I’ll be fine. When I get back, I’ll tell you all about it over caf at that greasy little diner you like so much.”

June chuckled, letting a tear escape as she embraced her tightly. “Hey, don’t shit on Dex’s. He’s got the best nerfburgers ever, just admit it.”

Fox sighed heavily as he picked up another datapad full of reports ready for his review and signature. It had been an unusually eventful day, starting normally with a meeting with the chancellor, but ending with him scrambling to rescind orders that he did not recall giving.

He had, had memory blackouts before, but never once had he ever told anyone about them. His fear of being sent back to Kamino and being reconditioned was less for himself and more for the men he commanded. If he was not here to protect them, his position would likely go to Thorn or Thire, and that was something he would never wish on his vode. Fox had decided long ago that if his suffering spared his brothers, he would endure it.

He lifted his helmet off, cutting the loud metal music he had been working to, and rubbed his fingertips over his eyes until he could see spots behind his eyelids. As he gulped down the last swallow of cold caf in his mug, he willed away the mental strain the day had so brutally taken out on him.

Today, the orders had been to raid a known criminal den, a mid-level dive lounge, to seek out suspected Separatist sympathizers. It was something the Corries had done before, and they had a very high success rate, but those raids were always carried out in the earliest hours of the morning, and today’s orders had come at midday.

Tactically, Fox knew better. He knew to wait till the late evening and early hours to strike when people were tired and had likely been imbibing, but when he rewatched the footage from his own helmet, he could hear his voice commanding that the raid be carried out immediately.

The next thing he remembered feeling was like he was waking up, coming out of a dense black fog just in time to realize what was going on around him. He had scrambled to recall his troopers before it was too late, his heart pounding its way through his ribs but retaining his stoic demeanor—a quickly learned skill in his position. Only after his men had successfully returned to base without engaging any hostiles, did Fox allow himself room to breathe, and the heated reprimand he endured from the chancellor’s vice chair, Mas Amedda, was let in one ear and out the other.

Skillfully lying his way out of it, another rapidly learned skill, he had stated that new evidence had suddenly come to light that needed to be reviewed before a raid could be carried out more effectively. However, to appease the seething, sycophantic Chagrian politician, Fox ordered that two of the serving droids at the dive bar be captured and reprogrammed to discreetly report on any Separatist-sympathetic activity for the next several weeks.

Amedda constantly meddled in military affairs, and it only served to make Fox’s job harder. It had taken an intervention by the chancellor himself calmly agreeing with Fox about the strategy for Amedda to back off.

Slipping his helmet back on and starting up his music again, Fox skimmed over the datapad. The harsh but melodic music was soothing him in a way he could not fully explain as he read through the infuriating reports. The reports he was signing off on now were not related to his direct orders. These had come in from the covert bases in deeper levels of the planet regarding a series of gang-related skirmishes.

A total of 52 brothers had been lost in the past two weeks due to increased gang warfare, and Fox’s dark eyes read each number carefully. Some of their names he knew, some he did not, but in the reports, their chosen names were never given; only their designation numbers were listed under a column that read ‘destruction of Republic property, KIA.’

It made Fox want to slam his fist through the datapad. He and his brothers were human, but still regarded as property. Slaves… resources… boys bred for war. echoed in his mind—sentiments he had heard from nat-born politicians and civilians in general on more than one occasion.

He had grown used to it, being treated as nothing more than a security measure or as a suit of armor decorating a dark corner waiting to be called to action, but it never stopped his anger from burning across his skin when he saw his brothers’ numbers lined up for him to acknowledge. He was responsible for them and each number felt like a sting of failure, no matter how many times Wolffe, Cody, or even Thorn told him he could not blame himself.

Thorn shifted from the cot he had been straddling, a stack of flimsi sheets and datapads of his own scattered in front of him. “I’m just about done,” he announced.

Fox barely heard him over the music, but he acknowledged his vod with a short hum, continuing to scribble his signature—his own designation number preceded by his rank—across the screen where necessary.

Thorn huffed, scratching a hand through his dark blonde curls, and rose to snatch the last datapad off Fox’s desk. The helmeted commander did not even try to stop him, knowing he was only trying to help. “Are you putting in another requisition order to Kamino?” Thorn asked, reading over the information.

“I have to,” Fox said, turning the screeching music down. “We’ve lost a platoon’s worth of brothers in two weeks because rival gangs have ramped up their attempts to claim territory. They’re too powerful to root out at the source without authorization from the district courts, and we don’t have that kind of jurisdiction.”

“Bureaucratic bullshit,” Thorn muttered.

“Exactly. If our main concern wasn’t all these fucking senators and the security of the upper levels, I’d be down there crushing them under my heels myself.”

Thorn forged Fox’s signature a few times and stacked the datapad with the others. “I need a drink. You up for 79s?”

Fox rolled his eyes. As if alcohol is going to help these memory blackouts. He set his helmet on his desk and kneaded the knots in his stiff neck, tossing his finished datapad on the pile. Leaning back in his creaking chair and stretching, he internally debated whether or not he wanted to go drinking.

Seeing his brother’s reluctance, Thorn pressed, “Come on, when did you last take a night off? There might be some cute girls there, and I bet any of them would love to help a marshal commander unwind.”

He thought about shooting Thorn a dark scowl, but Fox had to admit it had been a while since he had engaged in anything truly pleasurable, and he still could not get the image of that beautiful young woman out of his mind. He had begun imagining what she might look like if she smiled, and it made him feel lighter in an unfamiliar but captivating way. It was doubtful he would ever see her again, though, and blowing off some steam with someone new might just get those green eyes out of his stormy head.

Sighing as Thorn gave him a mockingly pitiful look, Fox relented, “All right, go round up the boys. I’ll be down in a minute.

He chuckled as he watched Thorn do a little happy skip out of his office before opening up the bottom drawer of his desk and digging for the box of bio-sheaths he always kept on hand. Even if he did not end up needing one, chances were that another brother would.

79’s was crawling with all sorts of beings. The majority were clones, but any nat-borns who wanted to patronize the infamous clone bar were welcome—assuming they did not cause trouble.

The Corries always caught the attention of the patrons whenever they arrived, and news of their presence swept through the vast establishment like wildfire. A radius of skepticism and caution always seemed to follow them for the first hour or so, garnering timid glances and hushed murmurs. Most people assumed they showed up because there was trouble, but as Fox and his men had removed their helmets, joking with each other and ordering a round of drinks, the atmosphere relaxed again.

One by one, each of them broke away from the group, finding brothers from other battalions to catch up with or seduced by potential partners. However, try as Thorn might, he could not convince Fox to do any more than lean over the railing of the third level overlooking the dance floor.

“I didn’t bring you here just to watch you know,” he called over the blaring music, growing more irritated that Fox’s version of a night off included nothing more than sipping bourbon as slowly as possible. “Loosen up, Vod.”

Fox let his drink sit and mellow on his tongue before answering, focusing on the sweeter notes in the cool alcohol. “I’m not stopping you from having fun. You’re the one choosing to stand here.” Fox grumbled back over the music.

Thorn rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“You sure you don’t want to have a little fun? That girl over there has been looking at you for a few minutes now.”

Fox followed Thorn’s eyes over his shoulder to a standing table with a group of scantily clad young women giggling around it. Sure enough, a few of them were smiling in their direction.

“I’m good.”

“Would this have anything to do with a certain girl you helped the other night?”

Fox rolled his eyes but sighed and took a deeper drink from his glass, swirling what was left of his ice into the deeply fragrant alcohol. No matter how hard he tried, and even after her assailant had been dealt with, he could not stop that mystery woman from invading his thoughts. 

His mind grew pleasantly quiet once more as he stopped trying to distract himself and let the thought of her in. The pulsing lights and pounding music blaring through the club were barely noticeable to him after a few minutes, and it only got easier with every sip of his drink.

Thorn nudged him and he pulled himself out of his trance, looking at his brother in confusion. “What?”

Thorn nodded past him, and Fox turned to see a gorgeous Zeltron woman standing beside and smiling at him. 

“Forgive me,” Fox apologized. “I didn’t see you.”

“It’s okay. I just asked if you’d like to dance?” she asked again, hopefully twirling a strand of her dark purple hair around a crimson-skinned finger.

Fox felt the heat rise in his neck. She was stunning and curvaceous, but the usual urge to take a willing partner for a spin on the crowded dance floor below was strangely absent. Although he had to admit she was certainly attractive, and he would not have turned her down in the past, she just was not who he wanted.

Giving her a kind smile in return, Fox politely declined and offered up Thorn instead. His vod lit up like a firecracker and he eagerly extended his hand. Fox knew, at the very least, it would keep his brother from bitching at him about being a downer.

Just before Thorn was pulled away by his new partner, Fox dug into a pouch on his belt and subtly slipped him the bio-sheath. “Just in case,” he mouthed.

Thorn gave him a grateful nod as he realized Fox was not planning on staying. Bumping vambraces with him, he turned to follow his eager new date down to the congested main floor of the club.

Fox sighed deeply and downed the rest of his bourbon in one hearty swig, letting it mellow against his tongue before swallowing. He could hear Mari’s distant voice in his head now, kicking him and telling him he was crazy for not accepting the Zeltron woman’s offer. He chuckled to himself as he remembered their situations being reversed when she and Rex had first gotten together.

The crisp air was invigorating as he stepped back into the night and swung over the seat of his speeder bike. He was somehow more alert now, even despite the single drink he had consumed. However, he knew his outrageous metabolism would burn it off quickly, and with sex oddly being very far from his mind, there was only one other method he knew would help him sleep—a brutally exhausting workout. Revving the speeder into gear, he set off back to the base.

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[sleepingsun501]

Chapter 2: The Taste of Caf

Characters: Commander Fox, Commander Thorn, OC Keeda Ionza, OC Mari Vontas, OC clone troopers

Summary: Keeda deals with the stressful aftermath of her evening, Fox talks to Thorn about a new assignment, and silent justice is served.

Rating: Explicit 18+, no smut

Warnings: Aftermath discussions of attempted SA from the previous chapter, nothing graphic. Hurt/Comfort.

Word Count: 5.6k

Ao3 link

A/N: CHAPTER 2 UPDATED: 04/14/2023. Hello and welcome to the updated version of Sweet True Lies. It has been reworked into 3rd person and will follow my OCs and canon characters POV's from here on out. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!! A huge thank you to @rexxdjarin for beta reading, and for letting me borrow her OC, Mari Vontas!!

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The Taste of Caf

Keeda breathed out a long, tense sigh as she watched the familiar luxury high-rise come into view. The senatorial transport wove smoothly around the bustling lanes of traffic, carrying her swiftly to her childhood home. It felt odd riding in a vehicle with such clearances, as it normally would have taken at least a few extra minutes for her to get here through her normal route.

“Level 233, please. You can just pull up next to the speeder on the landing platform there,” she said to the driver, spotting her mother’s expensive vehicle parked on the private landing pad.

“No problem, miss,” the driver replied, slowing the transport, and angling smoothly toward the correct side of the skyscraper.

He opened the door for her once more and offered her his hand to help her out of the posh vehicle. Upon taking it, Keeda subtly slipped him a few high-value credits. With gratitude written all over his intricately tattooed face, he tipped his cap to her again and bid her a good evening as she began making her way across the platform.

She was relieved her mother was home tonight. She had been half expecting her to be neck-deep in either some new medical research back at her office or planning for the upcoming charity gala at the lavish venue, but she saw the large, intricately mirrored glass door already open for her as the transport came to a stop.

Keeda squinted as the warm light beyond the heavily tinted windows spilled out through the open door and into the night, illuminating part of the landing pad. Having already given her mother a heads-up through a text comm that she was on her way over—and recounting the entire incident in her message—she hoped she would not have to repeat any of the distasteful events that had transpired in the past hour.

The wind rippled gently through Sareel Ionza’s velvet robe and nightgown as she hurried out to greet her daughter. The austere look on her face must have told Sareel enough because she immediately took her daughter into a motherly embrace. “Oh, honey,” she cooed, sounding worried. She placed a hand on her daughter’s dark hair and tucked her into her shoulder.

“I’m ok, Mum,” she muttered, carefully crafting her composure and not really believing the lie.

Sareel was a thin woman with a graceful, reed-like figure, but her grasp was like a vice. “I told Auntie Henya what happened, and she just feels awful. She said she wanted to come by in the morning to talk, but I figured you would want some space for a bit.”

Henya was an experienced lawyer at the same hospital where Sareel worked and one of her best friends. She had watched Keeda grow up and had been like family for years, and she had been the one who set up the date.

Keeda blinked rapidly and nodded, feeling choked up again as her mother took her face in her hands. “Please let her know it wasn’t her fault, okay?” she requested, settling into her mother’s arm and letting herself be led inside. She passed through the large foyer and into the less formal part of the residence with her mother’s comforting arm around her shoulders. You’re home. You’re safe. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but that disgusting, worthless asshole’s. she told herself for the tenth time.

Upon entering the kitchen, she shucked her coat and tossed it lazily over the arm of one of the sleek barstools, making for the conservator. The oversized, stainless durasteel-topped island in the center of the kitchen was littered with flimsi sheets, a few datapads, and samples of different elegant dishes. 

Yep, she was gala planning. Keeda thought, wrinkling her nose at what looked to be a cold, slimy seafood dish. Her mother’s household protocol droid, TC-N2, was unwrapping and setting out even more food samples as she passed. Fuck, I could’ve just come here for dinner.

She could feel Sareel’s warm brown eyes following her every move. “I’m not hurt, Mum,” she said tensely, shaking her long, heavy hair out of the loosely braided updo she had been wearing all evening, releasing some of the strain on her neck.

“Maybe not physically,” Sareel said swiftly, tucking a stray pale blonde curl behind her ear and adjusting her glasses, “but you’re most definitely shaken up. I don’t want to think about what could’ve happened if those clones had not been there.” She sighed as she took her daughter’s coat and folded it before handing it off to TC-N2. “They sound like good men.”

“Yeah,” Keeda agreed, swallowing thickly. “They were.” Keeping her head buried in the conservator, she blinked hard and banished the tear that had been trying to escape. Talking about her evening was the last thing she wanted to do, but she conceded that, as her mother, Sareel had a right to express her feelings about it.

Her mind wandered back to the clone commander and his men again as she continued searching through the conservator. As prepared as she had been to defend herself, she was relieved the clones had come along. So often, the clones were treated little better than droids, not even being legally considered citizens in the eyes of the Republic, and Keeda once again felt guilty about how she had spoken to the commander—she had not even asked for his name.

“So good to see you this evening, Mistress Keeda. Is there something you require? As you can see, we have plenty of food,” the silver-plated droid asked, watching her dig through various frozen items.

“Nope, I got it,” she replied, triumphantly holding up a tub of her favorite ice cream and grabbing a nearby spoon. “Thanks, N2.”

She plunged the spoon into the softening ice cream, took a bigger scoop than was probably wise, and stuffed it in her mouth. The sweetness and rich cocoa-caf flavor immediately replaced the bitterness she had been tasting, making the tightness rising in her chest a little easier to bear.

“Is there anything else you require, Mistress Sareel?” N2 asked. “If not, I should like to recharge for a while. My energy level is becoming critical.”

“Go ahead, N2,” Sareel answered, dismissing the droid. She leaned on the grey tektite granite counter behind her daughter and took off her glasses. “This is the last thing I’ll ask tonight, I promise,” she began, also grabbing a spoon. “Would you like me to remove the governor and his wife from the gala invitation list?”

Keeda groaned inwardly, trying to calm her nerves as she rolled the frozen cream around on her tongue. She had forgotten they had been invited to the gala, but the calm familiarity and the sweet, oaky scent of her sprawling childhood home were soothing her in a way she could not explain, and it was helping her think more clearly. 

As much as she despised playing politics, she knew uninviting the governor would not benefit the charity’s local efforts in his district. If she had to suffer through an evening in the same room as her assailant’s family for the benefit of all those people the charity could help, then she would do it.

Out of what felt like a mixture of spite, and possibly a little self-pity, she dug her spoon into the ice cream again and took another large bite before pushing the container toward her mother. “Don’t uninvite them,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sure they’ll be hearing about this from Henya, anyway. Besides, it’s their son who was the problem.”

Sareel gave her a concerned look and took a smaller bite. “It’s up to you, honey. They may want to talk to you about what happened tonight. That is if they even choose to come at all.”

Keeda mulled it over silently as she shared her dessert. She had already made up her mind, but there was that tiny inkling of doubt making her question herself. She popped another large spoonful of ice cream into her mouth before tossing her spoon into the sink with a clatter. “It’s fine, Mum. Don’t worry about it,” she said blandly. She was not entirely sure it was fine, but she did not want to discuss it anymore at the moment.

Inhaling deeply to assuage the ache in her chest, she scrubbed a hand through her wavy hair. “I’m gonna go take a bath and just try to sleep. I’ve canceled all my plans for tomorrow so I can have a bit of a lie-in.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll be out here if you need me.” Sareel kissed the back of her daughter’s head gently as she walked behind her. “If you want something to do tomorrow, could you stop by June’s nursery and check on the flowers for the gala?”

June was Keeda’s best friend from university. She had inherited one of the few greenhouses left on Coruscant, and Sareel had placed a substantial order with her for the gala decorations. Keeda had been meaning to stop by there to see her friend anyway, so she answered with a silent nod.

“I’m glad you’re here and that you’re safe,” Sareel added as she disappeared down the hall, sounding a little melancholy.

With a long sigh, Keeda made her way to her old bedroom, knowing full well why her mother had said that. She had asked Keeda at least twice over the past few months to move back in with her, saying that the sprawling luxury condo was simply too big for one person who was hardly ever there. Her mother had even gone so far as to update her room for her over time, keeping up with her maturing tastes. After tonight, Keeda could only imagine that desire had grown.

Originally, Keeda had told herself she moved out to feel some sort of independence after she had started attending the University of Coruscant, but the truth was she had been trying to escape the memory of her father at the time. However, she could never escape him, because she looked just like him—everything from her light olive skin and dark hair down to her bright green eyes and muscular build was Terreg Ionza.

As she entered her old bedroom, she realized that being there no longer felt like she was running from a memory, or that she was going to accidentally stumble into her father turning a corner, or see him sipping whiskey and reading in his favorite chair. She had been feeling rather lonely as well, absorbed in her work for the charity and overseeing the shipping company she had inherited. After all, it was why she had agreed to go on that awful date in the first place. Perhaps moving back in was something to consider when she had less on her already crowded plate.

It also dawned on her that it would be impractical to keep her little apartment much longer. Part of the reason for the gala Sareel was planning was not only to fundraise but also to commemorate the attachment of civilian relief effort volunteers to different units of the Grand Army of the Republic. Seeing as Keeda was one such volunteer, she could not fathom a reason to let the place just sit empty for months on end.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed hard, trying to dispel the headache that was forming behind her eyes, and wrenched the handle on her tub a little harder than necessary. The large soaker tub in her old bathroom filled quickly, pleasantly filling the air with steam, and she set about examining herself in the mirror as she stripped down. When she turned in the dim light, she felt a pit form in her stomach as she noticed a dark bruise forming on her upper arm where her assailant had grabbed her.

Dammit. she thought, scrambling to find a tube of bacta in one of her drawers. Thank the Maker the home was stocked full of medical supplies—almost as well-stocked as the hospital itself, compliments of having a surgeon for a mother.

Keeda’s vision started to blur with unshed tears again as she fumbled with the cap and squeezed the gel over her arm. Rubbing it in furiously, she did not think she had been gripped that hard, especially through her wool-lined coat, but the adrenaline must have overridden her ability to sense pain. She was disgusted by the thought of that wretched man having left any kind of mark on her, so she slathered another copious amount of the tingling blue gel into her arm until her skin was dry and the bruise began to fade.

The tears were flowing freely by the time she lowered herself into the steaming water, not caring that it was a bit too hot for her liking. Her skin prickled from the heat, but she forced herself into it anyway–wanting to feel something other than the anxiety coursing through her limbs. The tub was deep enough that she could submerge herself completely, so she sank under the water, letting it carry her tears away, and let herself scream—the delayed and repressed rage and fear finally breaking through.

High in the towers of the GAR Military Complex, Fox plopped down in his chair tiredly. It was late, and he had a mountain of flimsi-work to catch up on, but it was worth it to have taken Jonor and Rydar on their first real patrol. It was even more worth it to have put that high-born asshole in his place.

Pulling his gloves off and scrubbing his calloused hands over his face and through his curls, he waited for his little caf machine to finish brewing a fresh pot. He studied his right hand in the light from his desk lamp, flexing away the slight soreness where his knuckles had bruised from the force of the two blows he had dealt. Deep down, he was glad for it. That shabuir deserved every hit. he thought angrily.

How anyone could ever think of hurting a woman—or any other living being for that matter—in that gruesome way was inconceivable to him. As a soldier and a commanding officer, he had a stomach for everything, except that. The very idea of it made his gut churn because, in a way only clones would understand, he knew what it felt like to have his own autonomy stripped away.

In his short life, from the day he was decanted, he had been treated as little more than an identical cog in a machine he could not see—a replaceable part that was destined to be destroyed on a future battlefield. Even now, a year and a half into the war, he despised the Kaminoans for viewing them as nothing more than products to be used and tossed away whenever they had served their purpose.

Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes briefly and could still see the young woman in his mind. Her beautiful green eyes had been so full of fire, ready to burn everything in their wake. She had been quick and accurate, a sign of training. He had no doubt she probably could have taken care of herself, but a tightness enveloped his chest as he thought of her, still hoping she was somewhere safe.

The beeping of his caf machine broke through the memory. Fox dragged himself up again, grabbed a clean mug, and poured what he knew would be the first of many cups. He shook himself a little, watching his cup fill and wondering why the woman had such a deep effect on him. He did not even know her name. As he replaced the small pot, he heard his office door slide open.

“Bring the shinies back alive?” a rather chipper voice asked.

Thorn. Fox thought as he turned to face his brother. “They did very well. Observant and…  followed orders.”

“Glad to hear it,” Thorn said with a yawn, pulling his long golden curls into a bun. “I was getting worried Jonor would get sidetracked. He’s shown some tendency for distraction in training sims. They looked pretty happy with themselves, though. Got enough there for two?” he asked, looking to the caf pot.

Fox tipped his head toward the pot as he took a sip and crossed the room to his desk. The hot, bitter, dark liquid warmed him to his bones.

Thorn poured himself a cup and grimaced as he took an experimental sip. “Ugh! How do you drink this stuff without some sugar or cream or… dying?” That got a rare, genuine laugh out of the Marshal Commander. Smiling to himself, Thorn knew he was probably one of the few clones alive, apart from Fox’s batchmates, that could manage to make that happen.

“Black like my soul,” Fox said, taking his seat again.

Thorn frowned, but his voice was light, “Ha! Have you met yourself? The boys would’ve nicknamed you ‘Commander Sunshine’ if the 212th hadn’t already snatched that title for Cody.”

Beneath the gruff, stoic, and intimidating exterior, Fox was one of the most selfless brothers Thorn had ever come across. He had always put himself on the line first, whether it be physical or official, ready to take the fall if necessary. For that, Thorn and the rest of the Corries were eternally grateful. They all knew how tired he was, they had all seen the premature grey lacing through his curls, and they all worked their asses off out of gratitude.

Fox miraculously laughed again, taking another drink. His oldest batchmate, Marshal Commander Cody of the 212th Legion deserved that call sign far more than he did. He wondered if he still would have earned that nickname if the chancellor had not requested that Fox be made Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard instead of Cody. In any case, Fox thought his troops’ call sign for him—Caf—suited him far better, even if no one called him that to his face.

“Whoa, hold up,” Thorn said suddenly, coming over and noticing Fox’s knuckles. “Those are new.”

Sighing and ignoring Thorn’s remark, Fox set his cup down and picked up his stylus, ready to start signing off on reports and supply requests.

Thorn perched himself expectantly on the edge of Fox’s desk, caf in hand and an expectant expression on his face. “You always wear training gloves so those aren’t from a punching bag or a training scrap.”

Fox pulled a face. He knew Thorn was not going to let this go, no matter how much work he had to do. His hyper-observant blonde kih’vod was a pain in his ass at times, always mother-nuna-ing him. Not that he would ever admit it out loud, but Fox had grown to rely on that in a way.

“This one’s off the books for now,” the marshal commander said, keeping his eyes on his reports and giving in to the silent pressure of Thorn’s gaze.

The blonde cocked an eyebrow, sipping his caf and waiting patiently as Fox recounted the evening’s events. He was not surprised at the stunningly thorough level of Fox’s detail, especially how his fist making contact with the assailant’s jaw had brought the tired commander some true satisfaction.

It had been a while since any of the Corrie commanders, including Stone and Thire, had the occasion to justifiably beat the living shit out of anyone but each other, especially a nat-born. They went at each other hard in training, but even training had its limits.

Thorn downed the last swallow of his caf as Fox finished his narrative with a sleepy sigh, returning his focus to signing off on reports. “Damn, I gotta start going back on patrols more often. Sounds like that prick deserved it,” Thorn said, pulling a tube of bacta gel out of one of his belt packs and extending it.

Eyeing the tube, Fox shook his head, his messy curls bouncing a little as he scribbled his signature off on a report. “Nah, I want to keep these for a while.”

“Your call, Vod. Might not look too good in your dress greys with your hand like that, though,” Thorn replied with a shrug, tucking the tube back in his pack. “Might want to use some under your eyes, too. You need more sleep.”

Fox paused his scribbling. “Dress greys?” he asked, his brows pulling together in confusion. “When am I…?” He let out an exasperated huff when it crashed over him. The charity gala that a multitude of senators, celebrities, and other public officials had been invited to was in just a few days, and the Coruscant Guard had been requested as security detail due to the event’s high profile. “No,” he protested adamantly, glaring up at Thorn. “No, no, no, Thire said he had that covered.”

Thorn shrugged. “He got called off-world. Some senator needed an escort home through the frontline.” He chuckled quietly as Fox groaned and thumped his head on his desk. “Come on, it’s just a big fancy dinner with a few thousand guests tops. It’s not the worst event we’ve ever covered. Maybe we can sneak some dinner while we’re there like we did at that crazy party Senator Taa held last month.”

Kriffing hells. Fox did not even bother to raise his head. “You know, you guys keep telling me to sleep, but instead you keep giving work I delegate to you right back to me.”

“Well, when Jonor and Rydar and the rest of the shinies can hold their own in security detail, I’ll delegate more to them,” Thorn said, patting Fox’s armored shoulder and hopping off his desk. “Seriously, though, take a nap at least.”

“I’ll nap when you get a haircut,” Fox shot back, both playful and annoyed. He was tired of finding stupidly long, stray blonde hair on everything.

“You’ll be awake for the rest of my life,” Thorn laughed, leaving Fox to his paperwork.

“No!” an adolescent boy’s voice screamed. It cracked from having started puberty just months prior. “No, you can’t take him! Vod!”

Fox was panicking, groggily struggling against two pairs of long, thin arms—one holding his torso, another holding his legs. The more he kicked and fought, the foggier his vision became. The edges of his peripheral vision were blacking out and blurring.

“No!” the young boy screamed again.

He could hear himself crying out, too, desperate to hold on, but he only caught a blurry glimpse of the other boy before the blackness consumed him.

A loud banging and an angry feminine voice calling his name—no, not his name, his full title—made Fox jump up so violently he knocked his knees on the underside of his desk and sent his half-full caf cup flying to the floor.

“Marshal Commander Fox, open this fucking door!” the woman called again.

Fox realized he was panting and sucked in a deep breath to slow his heart rate. Just a dream. It was just a dream. he told himself. I really have to stop falling asleep here.

The pounding on his door continued as he regained his bearings, and he activated the switch on his desk, sinking back down into his chair. “Mari, what the fuck? What’re you ‘marshal commander-ing’ me for? You never call me that.” He rubbed the base of his palms into his eyes as he pulled himself further from his nightmare.

A petite, voluptuous, gorgeous young woman strode into his office and set a brand new, steaming cup of caf on his desk before leaning over it and glaring at him. “Drink up.”

The misty morning light was just beginning to filter through the tall window behind him, and he looked at the chronometer on the far wall. “Fucking hell, it’s only just past 0600 hours. If you’re not banging a headboard against the wall this early, it’s not worth the noise.” 

He eyed her cautiously before picking up the cup, the sweet scent of the good caf she always brought him was too tempting to ignore. Bringing it to his lips, he noted her large brown eyes had not left his face. “What? Please tell me you poisoned this.”

“What the hell did you do last night?” Mari asked quickly.

“There’s a lot of night to cover, Mari. Which part?”

“Oh, maybe the part that has a very pissed-off Coruscanti governor and his beat-to-shit son looking for you?!” The angry panic in Mari’s voice was evident, but underneath there was true worry.

Fox took a hefty swallow. “Ah, that part.”

Mari came around to the side of his desk without any spilled caf and perched herself on the edge, much like Thorn had the night before. “Fox, I’m serious.”

“The guy tried to assault a young woman last night. I was on patrol with some shinies and we caught him,” he explained. “After she was safe, I may have sanctioned an… unorthodox punishment.” 

“Fox…” she groaned, crossing her arms tightly. “That would explain why the guy’s face is purple.” 

He could not help the brief grin that crept across his handsome face, but Mari’s terrified expression wiped it clean off. She had always looked out for him and the Corries, knowing what they endured on behalf of the Republic, and she made Fox’s life that much less miserable. He, too, cared for her deeply, having watched her work her ass off for Senator Amidala. As a strong advocate for clones to have full citizenship and rights, Mari knew what could happen if a clone was seen to be out of line.

“I recorded the whole thing. I’ve got proof of what he did, it’s gonna be fine,” he said reassuringly, rising to his feet and stretching. His tight muscles protested and his neck gave a satisfying pop as he rolled his shoulders. “Just go to work like normal, and if I don’t bring you a cup of caf by lunch, then you can worry. Okay?”

Sighing, Mari pushed herself off the desk, “I can get Senator Amidala to mediate this if you want.” She could never keep up her anger for long around Fox, so she hugged herself tighter to stave off her anxiety. She was trying so desperately not to let it show, but Fox saw right through her.

“C’mere.” He pulled her into a gentle hug, careful not to crush her against his armor. He was the only one other than Rex who knew hugs were the fastest way to calm her down. Well, maybe the second fastest. he chuckled in his mind.

As beautiful and passionate as Mari was, the was no way Fox would have ever dreamt of bending her over his desk, even before she had started dating Rex. She and Fox had kissed once after one too many shots at 79s, but they had both promptly broken out laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Fox doubted he would ever deserve someone like her, and he did not want to ruin the precious friendship they had forged. He knew she deserved someone as valiant as the captain, and Fox could not be happier for them.

“Shut up, I know what you’re thinking,” Mari’s slightly muffled voice mumbled from his chestplate.

“Not in your wildest dreams, short stuff,” Fox said, rubbing her back over her long, dark hair. 

“Just go get some work done, yeah? Save the Republic and all that.”

Mari nodded and made her way to the door. “I still expect that caf by noon.”

“Don’t worry, I know how you like it.”

“Mhmm. Nice and sweet. None of that death water you drink.”

“Wait, were we talking about caf or your taste in men?”

Fox smiled as Mari slinked out the door, holding up her middle finger in his direction. Just as his door slid shut again, his comm pinged, summoning him to the main security office of the Military Complex.

He quickly gulped down the rest of the caf Mari had brought him, eternally grateful she had come so far out of her way so early, and grabbed a comb and some styling gel from his desk drawer. He quickly worked through his messy mop of curls and commed Rydar and Jonor to meet him in the security office.

“That’s him, Father!” a rather petulant voice announced as Fox exited the lift into the spartan waiting area.

Governor Baylo Gargeli and his son were on their feet immediately, and Fox frowned. Sure enough, as Mari had said, the son had purple bruises and cuts all over his angular face and his hair was purposefully disheveled, but Fox was skeptical of the cast and sling he had on one arm.

“You are Marshal Commander Fox I presume?” the governor asked flatly.

Fox came to stand at attention before them. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you for accommodating us so early. As you see, this is a matter of rather grave importance. My son, Pettri, tells me that you and your men unjustly assaulted him and frightened away his date as they were leaving a restaurant last night. I know of you, and this is a heavy accusation to bring against such a highly decorated commander. I would—”

“He did!” Pettri interrupted. “And it was unprovoked! His men dragged me into an alley and started beating me, and one of them broke my arm. You saw how I was in the hospital, Father.”

A subtle glare from his father sent Pettri into silence, and Fox was doing his best to stifle the laugh bubbling in his chest. This guy is so pathetic. The governor can’t possibly be buying this load of bantha shit.

Gargeli cleared his throat. “As I was saying, Commander, I would very much like for this to be resolved here and now if possible, and your cooperation would be appreciated,” he said with distinguished grace.

Fox immediately began pulling up the footage from his helmet recorder onto his HUD from the previous night. “Have you spoken to the young woman?” he asked, ignoring Pettri completely. “I’m sure her insight and witness testimony to these accusations would be valuable.”

Pettri visibly paled under his bruises as his father turned to him once again. “I-I…uh, well, it’s so early… and s-she didn’t… she wasn’t a-answering her comm,” he stammered.

Rolling his eyes, Fox pulled off his bucket and heard Jonor and Rydar exit the turbolift behind him. The lie was even more pitiful than his ramblings just moments ago. “These are the men I had with me last night. Do you have your recordings?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Jonor replied, each of them handing the commander a datastick.

“Thank you, gentlemen. Governor, if you and your son would follow us to the briefing room, I have three separate recorded accounts of what transpired last evening.”

“Gladly,” the governor replied. “Come, Pettri.”

Fox could practically feel Pettri quivering in fear as he ushered them into the room, but kept his smirk to himself. This was one part of his job he loved. Solid proof and imminent justice, and he had always been good at making sure it was delivered. He knew even if the governor and his son wished to press further charges, Pettri’s lie would never hold up in the courts against three separate recordings, even if they were the testimony of clones.

Inserting the datasticks from all of their helmets into a viewscreen, he stood back with his men and watched as the awful night replayed itself. He watched the governor’s expressions shift from expectant to furious throughout the recordings, forced to watch as his son attempted to assault an innocent young woman. Pettri stood silently beside his father and stared at the floor, his lies laid bare.

He also struggled to keep from gazing at the young woman again. The delayed fear in her beautiful green eyes was plain to see, even in his recording. It was not her fault she had gone on such a shitty date, and he hoped she did not blame herself. He wished he had at least gotten her name so he could do a wellness check on her.

But Fox was also watching the recordings from Jonor’s and Rydar’s helmets. Each of them had waited until Pettri had thrown a swing at them to deal their damage. However, not once did they hit either of Pettri’s arms. Their blows were contained to his face and torso, and not nearly powerful enough to break bones. Add a self-inflicted injury to the list of idiotic things this di’kut has brought on himself. he thought amusedly.

When the recordings ended, Governor Gargeli turned pensively to the three clones. “I thank you for your assistance, Commander. This has been most enlightening,” he said, his disappointment and anger toward his son leaking into his tone.

Fox bowed his head professionally. “My pleasure, sir. Is there anything else we can assist you with?” he asked, twitching an eyebrow.

The governor turned to Pettri who was visibly shrinking within himself. “I would like a moment alone with my son.”

“Of course. Jonor, Rydar, let’s give them some privacy.” As soon as the door slid behind them, Fox patted both of them on their shoulder bells. “You both did well, last night. You’re dismissed.”

Fox took up a post by the door to be sure the governor would not be interrupted. He wished the room had not been soundproofed so he could hear whatever verbal barrage Pettri was currently enduring. Even still, he was satisfied that the young woman currently invading his thoughts yet again was getting her justice, even if she never found out about it.

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[sleepingsun501]

Sweet True Lies: Chapter 3

Two Truths and a Lie

Paring(s): Fox x OC: Keeda Ionza (FINALLY!)

Characters: F!Reader/OC: Keeda Ionza, OC: June Makano, Commander Fox, Commander Thorn

Summary: Gala time!

Rating: This chapter is G (series is rated E)

Warnings: Light Angst, Fluff, Romantic Fluff

Word Count: 7.2k

Ao3 link

A/N: Hello and welcome to chapter 3! Sorry it took so long to write, but hopefully, it will all be worth it!

There is another new OC I'm bringing into this fic. Her name is June Makano. Check her out here!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

Two Truths and a Lie

You gasped as you jerked yourself awake, looking around and briefly wondering where you were. You’re in your old room. Relax. You’re okay. you told yourself as you got your bearings.

An annoyed meow came from the black-striped lump of tan fur next to your feet as you reached over and grabbed the remote on your nightstand, reducing the dark opaque tint of your windows to let in the morning light. “Sorry, Chuffs,” you apologized to your mother’s lazy tooka cat.

You squeezed your eyes shut against the harsh light bouncing off Coruscant's surface, and nestled yourself back into your cloudy pillows, not quite ready to leave the warmth of your large bed. Chuffs stood up briefly and stretched languidly as the light reached her, giving you a curious look before settling back down in her warm spot with a purr.

Scrunching your fingers through your tangled hair as you took in the morning, your thoughts wandered back to the dream you had been having. It had not been unpleasant—quite the opposite: Someone’s strong arms had pulled you close with whispers of reassurance and safety, enveloping you with so much warmth you could have melted into them.

You mused over it for a moment, twisting a bit to look at your upper arm and wondering why you had such a comforting dream after such a tumultuous night. As you prodded the bruise-free skin to check for any residual soreness, you figured a nightmare would have been more fitting, but none had come.

“Good morning, Mistress Keeda,” N2’s soft, high-pitched, mechanical voice said as he entered your room. He was holding a breakfast tray laden with what looked like muffins, scrambled nuna eggs, sliced shuura fruit, and your favorite tea.

You stretched and yawned before sitting up, realizing absently that you had slept a lot further into the morning than you normally did. “Morning, N2. What’s all this?” you asked, untangling yourself from your blankets and trying not to disturb Chuffs a second time.

“Oh, Mistress Sareel was insistent that you have something to eat before you leave,” N2 replied.

You rubbed your eyes groggily as N2 set the meal down on the bed beside you. Your stomach rumbled loudly as you smelled the fresh, berry-laden muffins and fluffy eggs, remembering how little you had eaten the night before.

Sipping your steaming tea and nibbling a muffin, you pulled your datapad into your lap and skimmed the news as you did every morning. Articles of the army’s latest victories and defeats rerouting trade and travel hyperspace lanes littered your screen, but you found your mind wandering back to your dream. It was fading quickly as you fully woke, but the sense of security of those imaginary arms around you had greatly lessened your anxiety.

“Is there anything you require before I begin the household chores, Mistress Keeda?” N2 asked, carrying your hamper from your bathroom.

“No, thank you, N2. You have done plenty for me already,” you replied, giving the droid a smile. You knew N2 could not actually feel emotions—he was simply programmed to respond—but you had always been polite to him.

As you began eating your breakfast, you sent a quick text comm to June, telling her you would be stopping by to check on the flowers, and you also took the opportunity to recount the details of your previous evening to her. You knew she was working, and therefore could not call you, but you received several long replies full of enraged expletives and exclamations anyway. June had always been hotheaded, but she would have blown off a lot of that steam by the time you arrived if you did not rush.

You took your time in eating and dressing, savoring the morning for once, and sinking back into your thoughts. Nothing about the war had slowed down the charity foundation’s work, but it had physically condensed it to Core Worlds as new battle maps were drawn every day in the Mid and Outer Rims. The charity had also been forced to cut its ties with Separatist worlds, though you knew some of the outposts on those worlds had continued to function without proper funds, manned now only by the very people they had been constructed to help.

With the organization now officially partnering with the GAR, however, the work could continue on Loyalist worlds outside of the Core. You had already received the information about the battalion you would be attached to for the foreseeable future, and you sincerely hoped the clones would accept working with you. Deep down, you had been a little worried they would always see you as an outsider.

An hour later found you stepping out of a taxi and onto a wide, sunny pedestrian walkway. The air was still chilly, but the sun managed to take the bite of the wind away. A long, tall greenhouse stretched down the length of the block before you, made entirely of glass walls and windows—just one of ten identical buildings laid out parallel to each other. A much smaller, older structure sat at the end of the first building, with a glowing sign projected onto the ancient-looking brick that read ‘Makano Greenhouses,’ and you made your way to the door.

The air inside the main shop was warm and damp, and it was like stepping into an entirely different world. The fresh scents of thousands of varieties of flowers, vegetables, fruits, and shrubbery the Makano family had grown for nearly two centuries in their greenhouses all wafted to greet you, spiriting you away from the ecological barrenness of Coruscant. You suspected the shuura fruit you had eaten for breakfast had come from these greenhouses.

Inhaling the perfumy fragrances deeply, you pressed the service button on the front desk, taking the time to admire all the glittering vases, fruit baskets, and pre-arranged flower displays already up for sale.

“Be there in a second, Keeds,” a light feminine voice said, echoing through a speaker. True to her word, a few moments later, a curvy young woman with bright ginger hair and equally bright hazel eyes came jogging in through the shop’s back door. “Fucking hell, girl,” she greeted in typical June fashion, wiping her hands on a rag and pulling you into a tight hug. “You nearly gave me a heart attack this morning with your message. How’re you holding up?”

“Hi, June,” you replied. You hugged her back, glad to see her initial, explosive temper had cooled already. “I’m coping, could’ve been worse,” you added dismissively. The residual anxiety must have still been shining through your expression because June cocked a disbelieving, fiery eyebrow at you.

June Makano was the latest generational owner of her family’s greenhouses and your best friend from your time at university. Although the greenhouses were an incredibly lucrative business over the centuries—being one of the last few remaining places on-world providing food and décor to Coruscant’s upper classes—the Makano family had used them as a cover for less legitimate business for just as long.

Despite your knowledge of this, June had become like a sister to you over the years. It still baffled you to no end how she was always able to know exactly how you felt, reading you like an open book. The way she pursed her lips at you was another classic indicator that she knew you were still not all right, so you huffed out a tired breath and rested against the counter, ignoring it.

“I’m not gonna make you talk about it,” June said quietly, “but you know I’m here if you need to.” She rubbed your arm affectionately, and the gesture warmed you. “You know I can still get Naiyo to deal with him, too, right?”

You chuckled dryly and rolled your eyes. “No, thanks. I don’t want your rum-running twin brother and his gangsters getting themselves into any trouble on my account.”

“The offer stands,” June said in a singsong voice, effectively dropping the subject. “Now, come on, let me show you the flowers for tomorrow.”

June led you through the back door and past the greenhouses to an enormous workshop. It looked equally as ancient as the main shop with all its exposed brick and dark steel rafters. Specialized droids hovered about, arranging several varieties of colorful flowers into garlands, bouquets, and centerpieces for the gala. You recognized some of the larger flower varieties, but there were also tiny, shining white blossoms on wiry vines mixed into the bouquets that were unfamiliar.

“Let your mum know the arrangements will be delivered this afternoon, and I’ll be there personally tonight to make sure they’re set up properly,” June said, taking a bundle of the blossoms and handing them to you. “These would look really pretty in your hair tomorrow.”

The little flowers gave off a delicate, but musky sweet scent, unlike anything you had smelled before. “What are these?” you asked curiously. They were surprisingly resilient, despite being so small.

“They’re a variety of peace blossoms from Naboo,” June explained, lifting the end of a garland into a transport crate. “Your mum asked for those particularly, so I had to use the hydroponic systems and pure light to get them to grow faster. She said it was to represent a quick end to the war with the help of all the relief volunteers.”

“Trust my mum to weave poetic symbolism into everything,” you mumbled, tilting the little flowers in your palm. Their sheen reflected a faint bluish-green hue beneath the milky petals. You heard June pause her work, and from her tone, you could tell she was worried. “You still don’t think I should have volunteered?”

June sighed and shook her shoulder-length orange hair out of its clip to readjust it. “I just don’t want you to get hurt or anything. Just because you’re only going on relief missions doesn’t mean it’s safe, Keeds. You could be attacked at any time.”

“You sound like my mum,” you muttered sardonically. You knew June meant well, but even she knew you had been screaming internally for months from being cooped up on Coruscant. “I’ll be with the troops the whole time. They’ll keep any droids out of my way, and I’m a decent shot myself,” you smirked.

June gave you a reproachful look, but she clipped her hair back up and shrugged. “Just… be careful. You’re my best friend.”

“I know, but you know exactly how badly I need to get off this kriffing planet. I need some fresh air, quite literally a different atmosphere. It’s beautiful here, in its own way, and it’ll always be home, but I need some change.” You stepped a bit closer and lowered your voice a notch, shaking your head, “And you were right before, June. I’m not entirely fine, especially after last night. Getting away right now is the best thing I can do.”

You could tell June was holding back her tears from the way she looked around rapidly and started chewing on her plump, pink bottom lip, so you pulled her into a more solid hug this time, aware that this may be the last chance you got before you shipped out after the gala. “I promise, I’ll be fine. When I get back, I’ll tell you all about it over caf at that greasy little diner you like so much.”

June chuckled, letting a tear escape as she embraced you tightly. “Hey, don’t shit on Dex’s. He’s got the best nerfburgers ever, just admit it.”

You parted afterward with a smile and a quick goodbye, leaving the greenhouses with the peace blossoms in hand. As you glanced down at them, you realized your nails could do with a manicure. Begrudgingly, you knew you needed to polish yourself up. Time to turn into a lady.

***

Tucking his towel around his hips, Fox wiped the steam from his mirror and pulled his razor out from his refresher cabinet. Two of the few benefits of being a Marshal Commander permanently stationed on Triple Zero were private quarters and access to hot water showers. It hardly made up for the multitudes of other issues he dealt with on a daily basis, but it was far better than the communal sonic showers his millions of brothers were forced to use in the field and on starships.

He wished he did not have to shave so soon, rather liking the way his slightly greying stubble always set him apart from his brothers, but he had no choice. He had to be as presentable as possible for the gala in a few hours, and he mentally cursed whichever senator had taken Thire from his post.

Fox resented the way many senators seemed to think the Corries were their personal bodyguards instead of elite clone shock troopers. The boys were constantly called upon, day and night, to escort senators and other public officials to wherever they wanted to go, regardless of the security details they were already provided. Even their underpaid aides were not called upon as often as the Corries were for menial tasks—the moment a senator needed to travel off-world or needed a kriffing lightbulb changed, they rang a Guardsman.

Pushing his dripping curls away from his face, Fox slathered his cheeks and jaw in shaving cream and began methodically scraping away his stubble, careful not to nick himself. He had finally managed to get a few hours of solid sleep after a brutally exhausting workout, and he had taken Thorn’s advice about dabbing some bacta under his eyes. He somehow looked a bit younger as his skin became smooth, and it reminded him of how young he technically was. Physically, he was only about twenty-five now, even if he felt like he was nearly a hundred most days.

Fox carefully eased a clean undershirt over his head, careful not to muss his freshly faded curls that he had slicked back into smooth waves. The ever-present greys in his once jet-black hair had ceased to bother him, especially because they seemed to be a date magnet on the incredibly rare occasions he took to venture out to 79s with his brothers.

He smiled to himself as he pulled on his dress greys, fondly remembering the night Cody and Wolffe had dragged him to the bar with every intention of getting him laid. They had no idea their youngest brother had spent the past year carefully observing the very politicians he loathed, watching their formal, charming interactions and quietly putting them into practice. He had a date within twenty minutes that night, and Cody and Wolffe’s jaws had been on the deck.

Part of his charm, he had learned, came with his expression of intention. Fox had never once led anyone on, making sure an unattached night was all a lady was to expect from him. It was not that he wanted to sleep around or that he did not have feelings, but he knew he had no time for a committed relationship—even if it never stopped him from wondering how nice one would be.

Fox rolled his muscular shoulders in the stiff, heavy fabric of his dress uniform and checked his appearance over one last time. Just another big fancy dinner. he thought to himself, tucking his cover under his arm and echoing Thorn’s words from a few days prior.

***

“You’re fidgeting,” your mother whispered concernedly as you exited the speeder after her.

You gnawed at the inside of your cheek as you looked around. The poshly dressed guests were arriving in droves, greeting each other with both genuine and faux smiles, la bise kisses, and graceful bows. As the gala’s unofficial host, you started to feel the pressure as eyes were beginning to turn toward you. The sickening clench of your stomach was hard to ignore as you slapped a practiced smile on your face. Silently, you resigned yourself to participating in high-class society, and you were sure the gooseflesh breaking out over your skin had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

“Just nerves,” you muttered, shivering slightly, and smoothing out your flowing dark green dress. You were glad you had chosen something with a loose skirt that you could both walk and breathe in as the latter felt rather difficult. Beneath your long hair, you felt your mother’s silk-gloved hand subtly adjust one of the X-crossed straps on your backless gown for you before looping your arm in hers.

“You’ve nothing to worry about tonight, darling. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself,” she said soothingly, ushering you inside and out of the chilly air.

As you made your way closer to the grand doors of the hall, you spied a few clones in their distinct red and white armor cleverly stationed in the shadows, and your nerves calmed a bit. Whereas many of Coruscant’s citizens had come to loathe the ever-present shock troopers, you found their presence to be a comfort, more so now than ever before. You wondered if the commander was among them, but before you could dwell on the thought, your mother was pulling you into the venue.

Her hand soothed along your bare forearm as you made your way into the dazzling hall, and the sight took your breath away. The hall was massive, and the cavernous, arching glass ceiling reflected thousands of fairy lights woven into the garlands and wreaths June had no doubt spent hours setting up.

The air was fragrant from the same little peace blossoms that were nestled in your fashionably twisted hair, and as the only source of light apart from delicate flickering candles on the dining tables, the tiny, softly twinkling lights created a calm ambiance that seemed to warm even the darkest corners of the hall. While you looked around, you noticed a familiar, friendly face illuminated by the glow.

“Oh, my dear, Keeda,” Henya greeted compassionately, coming around a large, ornately set dining table, and taking you into her arms.

You grinned happily for the first time that evening as the tall Twi’lek woman embraced you, and the soft fur of her shawl tickled your nose. “Hello, Auntie,” you replied.

“You look divine tonight. That dress does wonders for your eyes,” she complimented, but Henya’s striking yellow eyes held a trace of guilt as she pulled away. “May I steal her for a moment, Sareel?” she asked, turning to your mother.

“Of course, of course. I will find you later, Keeda,” your mother replied, giving you a quick peck on the cheek.

As your mother began graciously receiving the other guests, Henya took your hands in both of hers, and you could practically feel the emotion rippling off her. Even her long violet lekku were twitching restlessly as she searched for her words.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, Auntie,” you said before she could speak. “What happened the other night, that’s not your fault.”

Henya sighed heavily, “I am still terribly sorry, my dear. You shouldn’t have had to endure that.” She paused for a moment, looking around before her eyes settled on a rather severe-looking couple taking flutes of dark blue, bubbling wine from a passing server. “I’m even more sorry to say that they would like to speak with you before the evening’s festivities begin.”

The pit in your stomach immediately gave way to a dull numbness that flooded through your limbs. The governor and his wife had come after all, but you were thankful there seemed to be no sign of their son. You breathed deeply, unlocked your knees, and felt your head clear. Might as well get this unpleasantry out of the way.

Striding forward with purpose, your father’s voice whispered in the back of your mind; Opportunity lies in even the most unlikely places. When he had spoken those words to you so long ago, you had not fully understood their meaning. But now, as Henya led you across the room, your sharp mind understood that the governor was about to ask something of you.

“Governor and Missus Gargeli, may I present Miss Keeda Ionza,” Henya said diplomatically.

While Governor Gargeli might have looked unyielding on the outside, his blue eyes were benevolent. His son had clearly inherited his looks from his father, but you refused to let it unnerve you.

“Miss Ionza, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said authentically as he extended his hand to you.

“The pleasure is mine, Governor.” You shook his hand firmly, conveying your directness.

“It is an esteemed honor to be invited this evening,” he remarked, releasing you to allow you to shake hands with his wife. “Although, I do wish the circumstances of our meeting would have been less precarious,” Gargeli added softly and opened his arm to you. “May I?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you were passed to yet another arm. Did people think you were unable to walk on your own? Despite being on his arm, you steered the governor to a quieter corner of the hall. You waited until you were sure the sharp click of your heels on the tiles was no longer audible to the other guests before pausing beside one of the massive bouquets that matched your hair.

The governor, for all his formal appearance, looked ashamed. “I want you to know that my wife and I do not condone our son’s actions,” Gargeli whispered gravely. “Pettri was brought up to be better than that, and I sincerely apologize for any harm that has befallen you.”

Pettri Gargeli. you finally remembered. That was that fucker’s name.

The governor’s Coruscanti accent was much thicker than your own, and you had to strain a bit to hear him over the growing hum of the other guests and the gentle classical music that was beginning to play. He had your full attention as he continued, “I also wanted to inform you personally that Pettri is no longer living on Coruscant, and he will not be returning. I’ve sent him back to my family’s homeworld, and he will be dealt with in a manner befitting his actions.”

You hid your relief well, only shifting your weight from one hip to the other as you took in the revelation, still surveying the incoming guests nonchalantly. You had been silently dreading seeing Pettri again, even in passing, and the weight of that fear dissipated from your shoulders. “I am grateful for the measures you have taken in resolving the situation, Governor.”

Gargeli tapped a finger on his glass rather anxiously as he scanned the room blankly. “I’m afraid I do have another motive for speaking to you privately this evening, Miss Ionza,” he confessed. He swiftly acquired another flute of bubbling blue wine from a passing attendant and handed it to you as a gesture.

Here we go. you thought, accepting the drink to let him know you were listening, and bracing yourself for his request. You already had an inkling of what it was.

“As you may know, the local elections in my district are not far off.” He paused to clear his throat to emphasize the point he was about to make. “If… rumor was to spread, a scandal such as this involving a member of my immediate family would potentially—”

“—Potentially negatively impact your reelection,” you interrupted gracefully, finally meeting the governor’s eyes again. Although the smile you wore was practiced and demure, your green eyes conveyed your perceptivity. “And if I were to guarantee my silence on the matter, perhaps our agreement could be mutually beneficial.”

An intrigued look crossed Gargeli’s aristocratic face, his thick mustache twitching up in interest. “Name your terms, Miss Ionza.”

Taking a long sip from your glass, you glanced back out across the room trying to look as casual as possible. “The Terreg Ionza Medical Foundation could do more work in your district if you would consider opening more public spaces to our volunteers and providing security,” you said lowly, your throat tightening a fraction as your father’s name passed your lips. “In the past, our volunteers have encountered significant resistance in underprivileged areas, largely due to threats of local gang violence. Not only would it guarantee my silence, but it would also benefit your constituents.”

The governor nodded pensively. “I assure you my campaign already supports the increased street surveillance in my district. I see the Coruscant Guard are here tonight,” he added as he skimmed over the room. “They have been immensely helpful in training new security forces, so any volunteers would be well protected. Perhaps my wife and I will become more regular contributors to the Foundation as well, to ensure their success.”

A wave of triumph surged through your heart as you raised your wine flute in a small toast. Despite how much you hated playing politics, you were rather reluctantly good at it. “To the mutually beneficial work of our organizations.”

“Hear, hear,” Gargeli replied, a formal smile full of admiration and respect for you working its way onto his face.

With a clink of your glasses, the deal was sealed. Gargeli would open his district more fully to the charity’s work, thousands of citizens would benefit from increased medical aid, and the charity would receive yet another new source of funds. All paid for with your silence.

“Please, Governor, enjoy the evening,” you said with a gentle, sweeping motion, effectively excusing yourself.

Gargeli gave you a refined bow before returning to his wife’s side, and you began mingling your way through the crowd. Several people whom you had worked with in the past stopped to chat with you, each offering their views on the latest cooperations with the GAR. Some approved, some did not, and some expressed their admiration for your willingness to volunteer, but each conversation seemed to draw on your energy reserves.

Even after dinner had been served—you were eternally grateful your mother had not chosen that awful seafood dish to be an option—and the dancing had begun, you were finding the evening to be rather tedious. You did your best to conceal it; however, there was only so much you could take.

Over the sounds of clinking glasses and light laughter filling the air, blending with the lilting music now echoing across the hall, you huffed out a weary sigh. You wished you had someone other than politicians and socialites to converse with—just someone who did not want anything from you. From the moment you stepped out of the speeder, tonight had felt more like work than the enjoyable evening you hoped for.

***

Fox froze and his heart stuttered against his ribs.

He knew from the moment he saw her; it was her. His eyes followed her every move as she wove between people, conversing briefly before moving on. They all parted for her, as though she were a goddess among mortals—even more beautiful than he remembered.

“The hell are you looking at, vod?” Thorn asked, noting Fox’s sudden change. His older brother’s heavy brows were nearly knit together, and his scarred lips were parted in an awestruck expression. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Blinking out of his stupor, Fox nodded in the young woman’s direction. “She’s here,” he whispered, almost disbelieving his own words.

Thorn studied the crowd from their secluded spot by the doorway to a large, covered veranda, trying to follow Fox’s eye line. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“From th-the other night. She’s… uh… Long, dark hair, with little flowers. Green dress. It’s her,” Fox stammered.

His golden-haired brother looked back out to the crowd a second time, spotting her easily. “Oh, wow,” Thorn breathed. He knew Fox had not lied about her appearance a few days prior, but seeing her for himself, Thorn finally understood why Fox had been so taken with her. He snickered to himself because the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard was currently staring like a love-struck shiny after their first night at 79s. “That’s really her?”

Fox just nodded. He could not look away. She wore a perfect, congenial smile like a mask and carried herself with the grace of a queen, but her closed-off, stiff body language made Fox want to throw himself between her and the rest of the room—if only to shield her again for a moment so she could breathe.

“Well, go talk to her, di’kut!” Thorn laughed, nudging his ori’vod with a sharp elbow. “She looks like she could use better company than these nat-borns.” Fox opened his mouth to protest, but Thorn stopped him. “Go. You’d be shocked to know the boys and I can actually survive without your constant vigilance for a while.”

Seeing her step out another door on the opposite side of the hall and onto the wrap-around veranda, Fox nearly sprinted out the door beside him—no thanks to a playful swat on the ass from Thorn. It felt like his heart was about to jump through his nose as he quickly strode to where she had withdrawn.

Okay… okay… What am I gonna say to her? he rambled internally. Just ask her how she is, yeah? Ask her if she’s all right. No, why would she be all right? It’s only been a few days since… No, no, just tell her… tell her she looks nice. She’d like to hear that. Right? Fuck. Fuck, I did not think this through! Nevertheless, his feet propelled him forward.

Fox had never had any issues talking to women before, so why was he so unexpectedly flustered now? He paused and pressed his back against the cool alabaster wall just before turning the final corner of the building. He straightened his spotless uniform and blew out a long sigh, puffing his cheeks. Pull yourself together, Fox. You’re a kriffing Marshal Commander. You can do this.

***

The muffled silence was a welcome relief as you stepped out of the hall and rested your hands against the sleek railing. The crowds had begun gathering around to watch those waltzing about on the dance floor, and the stronger liquor had begun flowing as a medley of desserts was served, but you had come outside to let Coruscant’s skyline dazzle you for the thousandth time instead.

Letting your eyes drift shut, you tried to savor the quiet moment, and soaked up the soft warmth radiating from the outdoor heater beside you. You could still see the twinkling fairy lights all around you from behind your eyelids, and you watched as they played across your blinded vision. If you had a chaise and a blanket, you would have been content to stay right there until the sun rose.

Tomorrow, there would be no skyline. There would only be the swirling blue and silver streaks of hyperspace, whisking you off to a war-torn world to deliver medical relief supplies, and you were eager for it. Like you had told June, Coruscant would always be home, but you needed to get away for a while.

Your moment was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps that ceased a few yards behind you and to your left. You half expected to find yet another aristocrat asking you to dance when you opened your eyes, but you were shocked to your very core when you looked over your shoulder.

Him. It was him. The clone commander that had come to your aid.

You felt your eyes widen in surprise as he looked at you. He was clean-shaven now, and his tussled, greying curls had been elegantly styled back, but his honey-gold eyes still glimmered in the lights with the same care and warmth he had shown you just a few nights ago.

“You,” you breathed without thinking. Immediately, you cursed your impropriety and stumbled over your words. “I’m s-sorry. I-I meant—”

The commander cracked a roguish, bright smile, and his mouth pulled a touch more to the right because of the scar on his bottom lip. “It’s you,” he echoed softly, stepping closer. His voice was low and gravelly, and his eyes never left yours. “You look lovely tonight.”

He was trying to put you at ease, and you could not help the little grin that broke over your painted lips. “Thank you,” you replied, and you were powerless to stop the blush creeping up your cheeks. “Truthfully, I’d rather be elsewhere, though.”

“Really?” he asked, tossing his gaze back into the hall for a moment. “Even with all these fine, upstanding people here?” There was the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice, and you instantly relaxed despite the sudden draft blowing across the veranda.

The commander came to stand beside you, blocking the breeze and looking out over the planet-wide city. Even while leaning down on the railing and without his signature armor, he was still so very tall and broad. His hard muscles filled out his uniform, pulling at the fabric and defining him perfectly. It made you wonder just how strong he was…

“Are you cold?” he asked thoughtfully.

You shook your head faintly as you were pulled out of your thoughts. You felt wholly safe beside him, as though he were an immovable wall protecting you from the chill in the air and from the prying eyes of anyone who dared to look at you the wrong way—just as he did before.

That inkling of guilt suddenly came crawling back. The last time you had seen this man, you had spoken so harshly to him, and you had feared you would never get the chance to apologize. “Commander, I… I never thanked you properly… for the other night,” you said rather sheepishly.

He gave you a slightly puzzled look and shook his head almost imperceptibly, his eyes immediately coming to rest on your face again. “There’s no need to thank me.”

“Yes, there is,” you insisted, gripping the railing. “You and your men helped me. Something much worse might’ve happened if you hadn’t been there, and I shouldn’t have been so coarse.”

“You had every right to be,” he assured. “I’m glad I was there to help you.”

You toyed with a silver ring on your index finger as you carried on, “In any case, it’s no excuse for my behavior. I hope you’ll accept my apology, Commander.”

He turned to face you fully, leaning casually on one elbow and eyeing you charmingly. “I will, on one condition.”

How can he still look so powerful when he’s relaxed like that? you asked yourself, waiting for his request. He had somehow changed the very air around you so quickly that you found yourself letting go of the ache in your chest.

“Tell me your name?”

Whatever he was doing to make you feel so calm was mesmerizing, but you could also tell he was being playful, so you decided to entertain him. You pursed your lips and gave him a cheeky grin. “All right then. Let’s see if you can tell if I’m lying or telling the truth. Have you ever played two truths and a lie?”

“Two truths and a lie?” he asked inquisitively.

You nodded, fidgeting with your ring again. “I’ll tell you three things about myself. If you guess the lie, I have to tell you the truth about the lie. If you guess wrong, it’s your turn.”

The commander cocked a brow at you and smirked. “Very well, ladies first.”

You chewed your lip for a moment in thought, before settling on your lie. “My mother is the chairwoman of the foundation hosting this gala. I had a pet tooka when I was a child. My name… is Alana. Which is the lie?”

The weight of the commander’s gaze was encapsulating. You felt drawn into the depths of those stunning eyes as he analyzed you. He left no inch of your face untouched with his gaze. “Your name isn’t Alana,” he said finally.

“You’re right,” you conceded with a giggle. “My name is Keeda.”

The commander did not say anything for a moment, but his expression noticeably softened. You were not sure he was going to say anything until he muttered a single strange word, one you suspected was not Basic.

“Sorry?” you asked.

“Mesh’la,” he repeated, a little louder the second time. “It’s Mando’a. It means ‘beautiful’.”

You were certain you were bright red with how hard you were blushing. His lips barely moved whenever he spoke, unlike so many others tonight that had tried to woo your attention with overly enunciated accents and pretty words. The true sincerity in his tone rang clear. His voice was so rich, like a lovely bass-baritone note—deep and smooth, matching the darkened gold of his irises. You could practically feel the resonance of it in your ears despite how softly his words were uttered, and you suddenly craved to hear it again.

“Y-your turn, Commander.”

He must have had his answers ready because he spoke without hesitation. “My favorite color is red. My name is Fox. I’m a particularly good dancer.”

You mulled that over. Would he lie about his name, too? you wondered. It seemed logical, but he could also have been trying to throw you off. He had never looked you in the eye at all, though, choosing to focus on the little flowers woven through your hair—undoubtedly the better liar between you.

Laughing lightly as you gave up trying to guess, you settled on his name. “I don’t think your name is Fox.”

He flashed that brilliant white smile again. It contrasted so beautifully against his bronzed skin, and for the first time, you realized that you were more dazzled by the handsome commander in front of you than the skyline you had come out to observe. His smile and eyes were even brighter than any of the lights twinkling around you, and he exuded an affection that quieted any troubles in your mind.

“My name is Fox,” he said truthfully.

“Fox,” you repeated, bowing your head in mock defeat. “You’ve bested me. Where’d you learn to lie so well?”

“You pick up a thing or two when you’re around politicians all—”

As if on cue, he was interrupted as a group of guests came out onto the veranda, laughing boisterously and talking amongst themselves. They were clearly trying to ward off the buzz they had going with the cool night air. Luckily, they wandered away to the other side of the hall, but the door they had opened let a new melody waft outside.

It was a slower tune, but just as grand and orchestral as the others that had been playing all evening. You swayed your weight from one foot to the other, feeling the skirt of your dress flutter around your legs.

It had been so long since you danced. Your thoughts wandered back to the last time your father had helped you push all the furniture out of the way and taught you the steps of several common waltzes in the middle of your living room.

“Dance with me?” Fox asked suddenly, holding out his hand to you.

When did he take his gloves off? “Another truth?” you asked, resting your hand in his palm. His hand was calloused and strong, but his fingers were long and warm as they closed around yours ever so tenderly.

The crowd had thinned a bit for the evening, and you suspected this would be one of the last dances of the night, but you were glad to share it with Fox. You gasped a little when you felt his other hand settle around your lower back beneath your hair. His fingertips felt like fire brushing against your air-cooled bare skin, but you settled into his hold easily as he began guiding you down the length of the veranda. The steps he chose were uncomplicated, but you were impressed with the natural skill he seemed to possess as he swept you down the length of the open space.

“You were definitely telling the truth,” you laughed, enjoying how easily you moved together.

He arched his left arm and twirled you out beneath it before stepping in and sweeping you back into his hold. “I have my brother to thank for that,” Fox admitted, slowing a fraction with the timing of the music.

“Don’t you have a million brothers?” you asked lightheartedly. Fox looked so different from the stoic commander you had first met. A single stray curl had fallen loose on his forehead as he spun you around himself, and he practically beamed at you.

“This one is special. He inherited all the natural dancing talent somehow, so we just copied him. He’s the commander of the 104th battalion.”

You nearly stumbled in surprise, gripping Fox’s burly shoulder for support, but he was quicker and caught you. He gathered you into a spin to let you recover, bringing your body flush to his. The rush of adrenaline you felt as Fox effortlessly lifted you right off your feet made everything a little fuzzy, but he kept you securely in his strong arms. You felt like a star could have exploded between you with the heat of your bodies pressed together, and you would have happily melted into it.

After gently resting you back on your feet, Fox was the first to break the contact—although he seemed incredibly reluctant to do so. But the music still played in the background, so he continued to lead you through the dance.

“I’m assigned to the 104th as their official volunteer,” you said quickly, remembering why you had stumbled in the first place.

Fox chuckled. “You’ll like Wolffe. We grew up together as batchmates. He’s very stubborn and gruff, but he has a good heart.”

“I look forward to meeting him.”

As the music ended, the hall burst into applause. The other dancers and guests began to say their goodbyes, but you simply stood there under the twinkling lights. You panted together from the exertion of the dance as he continued to hold you, and you drank in the woodsy, slightly spicy scent of him mixed with the fragrance of the flowers in your hair.

He was gently brushing the back of your hand with his calloused thumb, and you were about to thank him for the dance, but the commlink on his wrist beeped. Still holding your hand, he released your waist and turned his right wrist over to silence the beeping.

“Ah, forgive me. Duty calls.”

As his fingers brushed over the device, you noticed the knuckles on his right hand were slightly blotched with old bruises, but you put it aside in your mind. “I… I hope I’ll see you again, Fox.”

He grinned down at you and gave your fingers a delicate squeeze. “Me too. Be safe, Keeda. Do whatever Wolffe tells you to do.”

You felt a pang of longing as he released you and turned to join the other Guardsmen waiting in the shadows at the other end of the veranda. How long have they been standing there?

Suddenly, you remembered and called out to him, “Wait, Fox!” He was immediately before you again with a questioning look on his face. “Please, before you go… what’s your favorite color?”

Although he virtually towered over you, Fox took your hand again and bowed slightly, capturing your gaze once more. His lips were warm as he pressed an impossibly soft kiss against the thin skin of your knuckles, and a mixture of shock and delight flooded through your body. Smiling brilliantly at you one last time, he replied, “Green.”

Taglist: @ariadnes-red-thread @twistedstitcher27 @rexxdjarin @wizardofrozz @moodymisty @ellichonkasaurusrex @ttzamara @nekotaetae @misogirl828 @wild-karrde @kaminocasey

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Chapter 4 of Sweet True Lies is nearly ready!! 👀👀 I’m so excited for this chapter, and it’s probably one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. I hope you all like it too!!

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OC Tag Game

If you're tagged, search your OC's Name + Aesthetic into pinterest and share the first 6 photos that pop up in a new post. Challenge however many people you like!

Thanks for the tag @book-of-baba-fett!!

My Pinterest is a little screwy rn since I’ve been searching nothing but clothes, so instead, here are my top 6 photos I have saved in a board for Keeda.

NPTs: @rexxdjarin @writingbylee @ner-runi @wild-karrde @ariadnes-red-thread @ulchabhangorm @samspenandsword