Saga - Legends "Rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light" (drama about Palp´s niece, a mix of legend & canon

I can imagine McDiarmid in a Bollywood movie. For I have a very wild imagination, my love. Thanks for your emotional support and comments! Without you I really would stop fanfiction right now.

This story here is my first attempt to write something very far away from Lucien´s bright shadow.

Ah well, WarmNyota_SweetAyesha still is around, too. And so is earlybird-obi-wan. That means Nagina´s fic cannot be so worthless and undignified after all.

Okay, I update today, because I am too busy this weekend. With you, DarthUncle, our neighbours and the cellar!




Chapter 12:

Of course my uncle has notified the local officials in of my arrival. My paperwork has already been done for me. I get all the clearances that I need. He even has opened a bank account for me with a generous, but not too alarming amount of money on it.

Before I can leave the registration office of Jhothal, I am given a small pot of flowers. “Congratulations, Mistress Samye! You are the 144th citizen of Capital City!”

I waver slightly, because I recognize those Rominaria flowers as well as the pot they are in. Barin gave that pot to me on our first wedding anniversary. “Thank you!” I say, close to a whisper.

I bet Plif Mukmuk did not give this pot up up without fighting the battle of his life.

Of course I know that my uncle is well connected. He is the first Sith lord in aeons who discovered the benefits of a neat administration and wildly spread business connections. His former master, Darth Plagueis, had been a very prominent member of a clandestine financial group closely allied to the InterGalactic Banking Clan.

“This is not the revenge of the Sith,”I think sourly, “But the revenge of the bank assistants. Actually of all office staff in this galaxy.”

Miffed, I make my way back home.

The anonymity that I had hoped for, especially in a small outpost like Jhothal far away from Capital City, is the fresh start is somewhat pointless now.

Sheev's Empire, to be born out of the ashes of the Republic, will soon spread like the Blue Shadow Virus.

There is also his growing resentment against our home world. Which is not fair of my uncle because there also had been good days for us. There had been much more than the daily thread of Grandfather Cosinga and his cat 'o nine tails.

But who am I to judge Sheev? I had been only disciplined once. He had been at the mercy of his father from birth, the unwanted and Force sensitive son.

Instead of seeking comfort in the temples of our ancestors, especially with kind and gentle Shiraya, he had dug deeply into Sith lore. Those parchments and dusty books had fitted much better into his mind set. He set out to be a ruler of the universe, keen on being the one swinging the whip forever more.

Along the way my uncle had not only lost himself, he had turned our relationship into something unhealthy, that any psychotherapist would find interesting and alarming at the same time.

With a stony face I carry the Rominaria flowers through the small streets of Jhothal.

I am sure there is an encrypted message for me hidden inside the flower pot. It is so much like my uncle to do something like that.

Of course I try to avoid news from Coruscant, while I pass excited two pedestrians, buzzing with conflicting news. But scraps of conversation come to my ears anyway.

Jedi uprising.

Chaos.

The Supreme Chancellor maimed.

Many deaths.

I do not really want to know, nor do I need to. By now I can only be sure that my message never reached Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Bail also must have had difficulties to contact Master Yoda. That eccentric little fellow has always been on tour the past years. Like a fire fighter trying to extinguish the mess my uncle had created like an arsonist.

********************************************************************

The message is inside a little capsule that is masked as a fertilizer grain. My uncle's choice of camouflage does not surprise me. He sometimes uses my favourite Terran childhood books for communication matters.

I have to smile despite all the recent misery.

In 'The Never-Ending Story'there is this sickly child-like empress. In one of the last scenes of the book she holds a grain of dust, the last remains of her fairytale realm, in the palm of her hand. A human boy from the other side of the mirror had presented her with a new name to ensure her survival and that of Fantasia.

My uncle is under the impression that I am his equal who declined her throne next to him. Lothal is my grain of dust. The promise of a new future on my own.

Chuckling a bit, I break the capsule and free the message. Of course I need a magnifying glass to read it. To my surprise it is not written in a secret code. He used Futhork, a style of traditional, handwritten calligraphy used by our people, the Naboo.

Bas tujhko pukaara kare
Haai haai main marjaawa marjaawa tere bin
Kya bebasi hai yeh, kya majbooriyan
Meri saason mein tu hai samaya
Milke bhi na mile, yeh hai kaisa bharam
Ab to meri raatein kat ti taare gin gin
Na judaa honge hum, kabhi khushi kabhie gham
Teri pooja karoon main to hardam
Tere saath hongi meri duaayen, aaye kabhi na tujh pe koyi balaayen
Mera dil yeh kahe, tu jahan bhi rahen
Set

Sanskrit again, which means that it is really a matter of the heart for him.

My heart keeps calling out to you
I can't think of a life without you
How helpless we are, what confusion
I feel you in every breath of mine
We meet and yet we don't, what an illusion
I spend sleepless nights counting stars in the sky
We shall never part, through laughter or tears
I worship you always
My blessings live with you, to protect you from evil eyes
My wishes for you, wherever you go
Set

The ancient Naboo legend of Set and Veré, two eternal lovers, kept apart from dire circumstances.

I close my eyes and listen to the beating of my own heart. It should be broken, but it is not. Wild and free it pounds in my chest as if nothing of great concern has happened.

Finally, it dawns to me what this is all about.

Per Sith tenets, Sheev must either 'immortalize his love', or kill those he cares for the most. Only then he achieves his full power.

And he decides to let me go. Just like that.

The dark side has not won fully. There will be a light spot in the deepest region of his distorted soul. But I do not have the power to kindle it. It will remain what it is, a single star in the darkness of unknown space.

Then I do remember that there had been a vertical line, running along side the text. I readjust the magnifier quickly.

There it is, the post scriptum. Written in Aurebesh.

PS: Do what you wish, Moonchild!

Blushing, I rush over to my data pad and scan for 'The Never-ending Story'. My eyes fly over the letters, all appearing in the High Galactic alphabet. It takes me a while to find the right chapter, but there it is Chapter 15:

Bastian had shown the lion the inscription on the reverse side of the Gem. “What do you suppose it means?” he asked. “DO WHAT YOU WISH. That must mean I can do anything I feel like. Don't you think so?”

All at once Grograman's face looked alarmingly grave, and his eyes glowed.

“No,” he said in his deep, rumbling voice. “It means that you must do what you really and truly want. And nothing is more difficult.”

“What I really and truly want? What do you mean by that?”

“It's your own deepest secret and you yourself don't know it.”

It is not secret. Not even to Sheev. All that I ever wanted was to have a peaceful family life with him. But it did not fit into the Sith religion that he chose for himself.

By naming me Moonchild, like the child-like Empress, he acknowledges my faith in Shiraya. She is a deity outstanding among the many gods of Naboo. She is the oldest one, the Alma Mater or better to say, the nurturing mother. Her serene light is that of wisdom. This is what made her the benefactor of education and learning.

“Well played, Sheev!” I sniff.

He has not robbed me of all hope. Not all is lost to me. I still have my calling as a kindergarten teacher. Besides, I have made some precious friends and acquaintances over the years. People that I can trust, no matter what their occupation is.

I step outside my cottage, cramped with twelve wooden crates made from Wroshyr trees.

As I gaze over the grass sea an old song favourite of mine comes to mind. I hum it under my breath, because my voice lacks the beauty to sing it properly.



Suddenly, my comlink buzzes.

As I open the HoloNet to hail the caller, I am glad that Xizor insisted to install everything before he left to Coruscant again. But it is not him who makes the call.

A happy child waves at me, her red mane a total disarray and her jade green eyes full of glee. “Nagina!”

“Mara!” I breathe.

My foster-mother Gita Anil steps behind the girl, enclosing her in a loving embrace. “Hello, sweetie pie!” she greets me. “Welcome to your new home on Lothal. Kind greetings from Chandrila!”

Tears of happiness well from my eyes. “Mom.”

Chetan, her husband, makes the little family unit complete. “Sorry when we did not call earlier, but we were not sure when you would arrive on Lothal.” His homely face slightly contracts in a sneer. “Hewas not very specific about it.”

My uncle and my foster-father have history. They always had different opinions of how to raise me.

“Imagine, Nagina, I am living with your parents now!” A roguish smile is painted on Mara's face.

I choose my words with great care. “I am happy for you.”

Gita nods to herself.

“And I sleep in your old bed,” the girl cheers. “And I have siblings out of a sudden. So many of them.”

Chetan fondles Mara right under her chin.

“Anyway, Nagina, how are you?” interrupts my foster-mother. “You must be happy to be at safe distance from Coruscant now. Dreadful events seem to go on there at present. It is whispered that the Jedi wanted to kill... S... the Supreme Chancellor. That they are the ones behind the Clone Wars.”

I simply place my right index finger on my lips.

Gita understands the signal immediately. Her iris widens now that she has the right out confirmation that my own uncle is the wrongdoer.

“We are relieved that you got that new job offer and are light years away from the Core Worlds.”

Mara's eyes grow rounder and more hopeful. “You can visit us soon, can you?”

With unhidden pride, Chetan ruffles through her red hair, which explains her current hair style. “Please let us know your new rota! Not that we are going anywhere at present, but I think that you are free to travel up to us.”

Despite his temper when it is about Sheev my foster-father understands that it is better to round up this conversation nicely. We both know that my HoloNet calls might get listened into. This is why most of my friends and acquaintances have different means of contacting me.

“Of course, dad. You will be the first to know.” I smile bravely, even though I am not sure how safe travelling within the frontiers of the fallen Republic will be. A coup d'etat always comes with a price for normal citizens like me.

********************************************************************

The start of the kindergarten year is still six weeks away. That gives me plenty of time to unpack my crates and build myself a new nest. A home that will be absolutely free from the shadows of the New Galactic Empire.

Smiling, I step on my small ladder and dive with my hands into the moving crate, that is marked with 'private affairs'. The polystyrene pellets feel funny between my fingers. I hope that they are really as biodegradable as the manufacturers claim.

Soon, I find the familiar shape that I am looking for. The actual holoframe is wrapped in my favourite towel. The assembled size is 375×290×20 mm. In his life time my husband always had been a larger than life personality. This is why I have not chosen for a pompous big frame.

I decide to put the memento on a side board. It shows Barin and me at our wedding day, both donned in green wedding robes as it is custom among his people.

The marriage ceremony had been a very private affair on one of the famous Gold Beaches of Corellia. Only my foster-parents and Sheev had been present. The ceremony itself had been conducted by Maxiron Agolerga – a Naboo holy man and acquaintance of my uncle.

Longingly, my index finger strokes the face that has hovered above mine so passionately thousands of times. His kisses had always been as sweet as honey, teasing me mercilessly.

“Jeboe'i,” I whisper in Olys Corellisi, gazing at my mischievously grinning husband. Thief.

For he would always remain the thief of my heart.

Grief collides in my chest and I suck in a deep breath.

To find my equilibrium again, I turn my wedding band back and forth on the left ring finger.

There is a deep-seated Corellian burial tradition. The ash of a cremated body gets compressed into synthetic diamonds. But the explosion had not left me much to bemoan. Barin literally had become star dust. Therefore Sheev had a snow globe made for me, filled with dust of asteroids, meteors and comets.

My approach is doomed to fail. Soon, tears dwell and a sob creeps out of my throat.

There is a deep-seated Corellian burial tradition. The ash of a cremated body gets compressed into synthetic diamonds. But the explosion had not left me much to bemoan. Barin literally had become star dust. Therefore Sheev had a snow globe made for me, filled with dust of asteroids, meteors and comets.

I storm back onto the ladder and keep looking out feverishly for that present.

It seems to take hours, but then I hold the glass ball in my hand. It has about the size of my palm.

With a prayer to Shiraya on my lips I shake the snow globe soundly. The flakes dance around wild and free.

“The moon she dances
Like the waves
Like the waves
On the shore
Making circles
Making circles
Like the waves
Like the waves
On the shore”

Repeating the arcane chant makes me feel way better.

Barin would want me to go on bravely. And he would hate me telling him the odds of that possibility.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that for a Corellian, beating the odds is always a reward in itself.

“Aanor ishiia zals,” I memorize Barin's favourite saying. Love conquers all.

I put down the snow globe and place it next to the holoframe.

“Perfect,” I say to myself, somewhat proud now.

Suddenly, I notice the solar altitude. I have wasted quiet enough time on feeling nostalgic. It is time for some action.

Determined, I step out of my cottage.

A grocery store is always a good place to get new ideas. I recall to have seen one farther north.

********************************************************************

Lothal has good soil. I will be able to make almost everything grow in this garden. Sheev always jokes about me being a perfect member for the Jedi Service Corps if I would ever give up the education sector. Well, he blasted that chance for me this week. So I just sick to home gardening.

Gazing through the open window, I spot the miniature Firethorn tree, that Xizor has given me as a house-warming present. Those plants are considered extremely rare. I wonder if he would regard me as an uncivilized barbarian if I dare to set its tortured roots free in this very garden.

I kneel down to kindle the basil plant that I got from the grocery store before it closed down. It already feels at home I can tell.

Then I walk over to the sunflowers, who a remnant of the previous owner.

“Hello, neighbour!” a deep, male voice greets me.

I quickly turn towards the gate.

An Ithorian stands in front of me. The tall alien has brown skin, yellow eyes and no hair. “I am Jho,” he introduces himself through his translator in Basic and stretches his long, curving neck. “But everybody around here calls me 'Old Jho' though.”



“My name is Nagina, Nagina Samye,” I answer and exchange hands with him over the wooden fence. I like the feel of his long, stick-like fingers. “Would you like to come in? But I only have some local root tea at hand. I am not sure where exactly my Alderaanian tea supplies are.”

I can swear that his unique set of twin mouths on opposite sides of his necks is smiling at my offer. “I would love some root tea, my dear.”

With that the Ithorian opens the garden door and enters my little realm.

Only now I see that he has brought a wooden box full of asters with him. They shine in autumnal colours: dark red, bright orange, acidic yellow and purple.

“Are those for me?” I exclaim, my voice as high as that of an excited child.

His T-shaped head bows towards me a bit. “I did not want to come empty handed.”

******************************************************************

Old Jho and I stay in the garden for a while. My progress with the plants since I moved in impress him. He is also enthusiastic about the walk-in herb spiral that I started building on the lawn yesterday, shortly after Xizor had left.

We select a site with full sun and kneel down to plant his asters together.

“Where does a devotee of plants like you hail from?” he asks after a while.

I am tempted to give him Naboo as my birth planet, but I drop the name of Chandrilla instead.

“This is why you chose Lothal?” he inquires carefully. “And especially this little village?”

“A new kindergarten opens here and I was too upset after all what happened on Coruscant recently.”

The sadness in his eyes is for real. “Were you there on the day when the Republic fell?”

Now I threat on dangerous ground. “My working place got destroyed during the space battle for the Chancellor's freedom.”

This is in itself no lie, just a sad fact. I can give him as many facts as he wants, but not the details. Never the details. And certainly not the full truth. Boba had me practise that over and over again.

“Will your family follow you soon?” the Ithorian says.

“There is not much of a family, I am afraid.” I nervously lick over my dry lips. “The Clone Wars made me a widow three years ago. Apart from my foster-family I have nobody left.”

He looks confused. “But the kindergarten?”

“Ah!” I begin to understand the reason for his distress. “I have no children myself, but I am a kindergarten teacher.”

Now Old Jho makes a flustered impression. “I am sorry that I have misunderstood you, Nagina.”

“Ach, I am a chitter-chatter-box at times. Not really making sense.”

Before an embarrassed silence can fall, I invite him into the house. I realise my mistake too late.

The Ithorian gasps for air.

My present from Xizor. Of course it is in full display in the living-room. I am such a silly bantha cow.

“A very eccentric friend of mine pushed that poor tree on me.” Quickly, I step towards the Firethorn and lift it. “I am to trim it only once a year.”

Old Jho stares at me wide eyed as if in shock. I have a very good guess why that is.

Dwarf versions of the Firethorn are worth a decamillion credits. That I possess one as a seemingly common kindergarten teacher is very unlikely.

I shuffle my feet. “Six-hundred years in a plant pot can be an awfully long time. Do you think that he would make it outside?”

Slowly, the Ithorian recovers his speech. “You could try. But your rich friend might find out about it. And he might not like it.”

I take a deep breath. “He is one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the galaxy. Accustomed to getting anything he wants. Anything at all.”

The kindness returns into my neighbour's features. “A female like you must be a big challenge for him.” A deep grumble rolls from his body. It is laughter. Then his gaze is directed at the holoframe of Barin and me, which makes him change the subject. “Your husband must have been a very happy person in his life time.”

I am glad that the Ithorian does not make any ugly comment about dwarfism. Alien races deal better with that subject than humans. “Barin was a complete scoundrel through and through, but very loyal and loving,” I say.

Lost in thought Old Jho nods. “Corellians have a bigger heart than they are given credit for.”

Glad, that I was able to defend my reputation as well as my past, I pipe up, “Would you like to have some root tea now?”

 

So, even being a Sith, Sheev still sees that there could be another truth, a balance of the force, a bit of light - not quite unlike like the architect from the Matrix perhaps in his own mind, but still, this chapter gives us hope. ... And dashes hope we might have had against better judgement (and new canon?) for little Mara, happy for her though it is that she has a new family, I think it is too much to hope Sheev leaves her be for Nagina's sake.

I wonder where this story will go next, with the Revenge of the Sith more or less done, and with about 20 years to go until the rest of the galaxy sees a new hope rise. Looking forward to following Nagina along.

 

I could tell you (straight away), DarthUncle, but then I would need to kill you (with spoilers).

Thanks for reading and commenting once more!

To have a dialogue about a written text is very nice.

By the way, when you wrote "the architect" I thought about Garth Nix and a certain book series of his first. But when I read on, I noticed that you refer to The Matrix movie.

"Keys to the Kingdom" broke my heart more than once when reading it, but it was a great thrill. Such as the Percy Jackson series by Rick Riordan and the Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

Right now I am actually not busy with Nagina´s fic, but by changing the story around Lucien a big deal. But I fear that will not give me SWpants back as a reader. Anyway, I feel better when I correct some of the unforgivable things, she always complained about my main character doing.

 

love to see Nagina together with Mara. Mara will grow into a nice woman, loved by everyone

 

Well, the future is always in motion, is it not? We will see!

But now let me do another check list:

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha
@DarthUncle
earlybird-obi-wan
@Sith-I-5
@Kurisan

PLEASE tell me via PM if you do NOT wish to be on the update list for this fic! Also when you hate being tagged by me! PLEASE!

SUMMERY of CHAPTER 12:​

With the help of Xizor and his private yacht Nagina arrives to Lothal, actually on the morning of Order 66. When she checks in with the local registration office she has to find out that Sheev already has her papers filled in for her and a too familiar plant pot with Rominaria is handed out to her.​

Annoyed, she walks to her little cottage at the outskirts of Capital City. There she retrieves a secret note from him and decides to unpack her moving crates.​

Suddenly there is an incoming HoloCall: it is little Mara, now a foster child with the kind Naboo couple that took Nagina in so many years ago. She chats with Gita and Chetan Anil for a while, trying to stay as low profile as possible.​

When Nagina is working in her little garden much later on, she gets visited from one of her direct neighbours: the Ithorian 'Old Jho', owner of a cantina in town. They bond immediately over their shared love for gardening, plants and flowers.​

There is an obstacle though, when she invites the alien into her home. He is deeply shocked to see her own a real the Firethorn tree, for those are worth a decamillion credits. ​

 

Okay, I wrote an prologue for this story which can be found HERE!

After this weekend, during which I will be very busy with the wedding business of an old friend, I will update the story again. Updates that Kahara generously worked on as a beta, because RL obviously has WarmNyota_SweetAyesha in its grasp.

@DarthUncle
@earlybird-obi-wan
@Sith-I-5
@Kurisan

Hopefully, I will see you all back on Sunday evening!

 

Okay, because DarthUncle asked and Kahara beta-ed for me, even though I cannot see the highlights she made in the text.

 

love to see more about the Ithorian

 

earlybird-obi-wan, DarthUncle, Kahara, @Sith-I-5, Kurisan: I am going on a little hiratus. Real life keeps me too busy at present. I might be back around Halloween!



Chapter 13:

Old Jho and I are so comfortable around one another, that it takes us a long time to depart from one another again.

“If you do not feel like cooking or need company, you are more than welcome in my cantina,” he says.

The offer is genuine. I detect no falsehood in my neighbour whatsoever, which is rather refreshing after all my recent dealings with courtiers of my uncle's shadow cabinet.

“Actually, 'Old Jho's Pit Stop' is hard to miss,” he moves on. “It has a repair facility next to it.”

He also owns a garage! This explains why the Ithorian knows so much about Corellians. Cantinas are said to be their water holes, but repair facilities are their heart beat. Or at least those of their beloved star ships.

It is a pity that I can never invite Barin for a drink in Old Jho's place. Being an enthusiastic hobby mechanic with rocket fuel in his veins, he would have loved to be regular costumer. I am sure of it.

“Perhaps you already see me tomorrow night,” I consider, pushing my regret away. “My oven is still not working properly and I have no oil for the hot stone either.”

Two Ithorian mouths seem to make silent mockery of me.

“Okay, I am too lazy to cock at present,” I admit.

He winks at me. “I think that I can offer you exactly what you need to feed yourself decently.”

In my head I already say good-bye to my diet plans.

“Some Jogan fruit cake would suit you well,”Old Jho considers. “Or blue milk custard.”

My stomach makes treacherous sounds.

“You certainly need spiced nysillin tea to fix that,” he points out with another wink.

“I better stick to root tea.”

“Good choice!” The Ithorian sounds very pleased with me.

********************************************************************

Two days later a tall human comes around. He is donned in a wool coat. Underneath it I spot a humble linen tunic and something that I assume to be a survival belt. There is no light sabre attached to it, though he vaguely reminds me of a Jedi knight. But the Force is not with him. Apart from a large bouquet of field flowers there is nothing unusual about him

“Lor San Tekka,” he introduces himself. “I believe that we are neighbours.”

He points out the tiny cottage next to mine, that has a neglected garden. The fruits are ungarnered and there is weed everywhere. Many butterflies take advantage of it.

“Nagina Samye,” I state and extend my hand to him. Only then I notice that he has blue eyes. It startles me. But I have no chance to draw back from him. His handshake is firm and gentle alike.

“I believe that you moved in three days prior to me,” he says.

Soon, I come to understand that he is some kind of explorer, but he is reluctant to reveal his field of expertise.

We talk on, while the sun shine dances on his brown hair.

When I notice that night fall approaches, I invite him in for dinner, which is just to be a humble fruit salad with white yoghurt.

He agrees without hesitation.

********************************************************************

“The rumour goes that you are from the core worlds,” he challenges me once we sit down in the living-room together. “It was brought to my attention when I went shopping this morning.”

“How come?” I ask, even though I know the answer. Xizor's flight manoeuvres might have attracted the attention of everybody living in this hemisphere.

My embarrassed tell-tale face is scanned inch by inch before Lor San Tekka continues speaking. “Not only was a Coruscanti transport ship seen in this area, but there was a pretty posh yacht too.”

“I did not choose my ride,” I sigh. “It choose me.”

He crooks his head slightly, his alert gaze never leaving my face. “There is much to wonder about your flight from Coruscant. Even apart from the means and timing of it.”

Suddenly I want the explorer out of my house, but I was raised to be polite. Especially to guests at the dinner table.

His eyes go soft, like melting polar ice. “Master Yoda told me once that we are luminous beings, not crude matter.“Sadness drenches his voice. “Now he is one with the Force.”

“No,” I gasp.

“Some of my friends believe him to have been killed in the siege of the Jedi Temple. Alongside Anakin Skywalker.”

The news hit hard. “The General is dead? The temple destroyed?”

“You have not paid any attention to the HoloNews the past days, have you?”

In regret, I shake my head.

“Many good people died all over the galaxy it seems.” He pauses and sucks in deep, steadying breaths. “Like Senator Amidala of Naboo.”

“Padmé,” I wheeze, which earns me a puzzled look. Especially when I add, “He killed her despite the baby.”
I flee for the toilet, which is a childish thing to do. But I cannot help it.

********************************************************************

Lor San Tekka waits for me right in front of the door, a steaming tea mug in his hand. “Blue chamomile,” he says, his intense gaze scanning me in unnerving ways again. “This herb helps against stomach cramps, Mistress Samye.”

“Pray, why in the Name of the Force would I need it?” I clip.

“Because of the retching and groaning!”

I take the mug, but leave its contents untouched. It could contain a truth serum or an anaesthetic for all I know.

“You do not trust me,” Lor San Tekka remarks, his mood hard to fathom. “I wonder what I did to offend you so much.”

My heart beats faster. “It is not...”

He rises a hand in defence. “It should be me, not trusting you, Nagina.”

This statement makes my face crumple.

“Yes, you are a kindergarten teacher. And, as far as I can tell from all the plants on this property, a skilled gardener.” He takes a step closer. “But there are many odd things about the story of your life.”

Before I can protest, he dives for something in a side pocket of his vest.

“I give you an example for my misgivings.”

The Sith brooch from my uncle shines through the hallway in all her ghostly beauty.

“You should not have this! It is a jewel from the Old Sith Empire,” Lor San Tekka bites out. It seems to cost him a lot of strength to calm himself. “I would say its origin is Koriban. And that it was made at some point during the Golden Age, perhaps even during the reign of terror by Sith Lord Ieldis.”

Old self-protection mechanisms come alive. One tells me that silence is my best defence.

His face is twisted with grief. He looks haggard. Completely wrung out. “Rainbow gems and Firethron trees are one thing, but this item here is pure evil. Look at the Lignan crystals embedded in it! They have been washed in the blood of innocent beings. It turned them crimson.”

There is a strange smell in the air. It is certainly not the chamomile.

Some kind of mist rises from his closed fist.

It seems that the Sith brooch burns him, yet he holds on to it, controlling his pain at a great price.

“I came to Lothal to find the secret Jedi temple, where I can hide some items of great value from all this mindless destruction going on. But instead I find this filth... and you.”

The glow becomes more intense as the brooch unleashes more of its ancient malice.

A single tear leaks out of my eyes. “Please let go!” I beg Lor San Tekka. “It will kill you.”

“Perhaps it can, if I allow it to do so.” I notice a fine shimmer of sweat settling on his brow. “But what ails me even more is, what has this Sith artefact done to you?”

“Nothing!” I screech like a night owl.

For several heartbeats Lor San Tekka just gazes at me. “I am not so sure!” he announces. “These artefacts are poisonous. To the soul actually more than to a mere body.”

With a soft pling the brooch collides with the floor. I drop to the ground with it. Rather unceremoniously, like a sack of potatoes.

********************************************************************

When I wake up in my own bed, I lie in a state. I do not like it a bit, even though there is no flower bouquet in my hand. With a yelp, I sit up.

Lor San Tekka towers above me, silent and immobile. Like a Naboo stone colossus of the Elders.

“I want you to leave now!” I say.

My voice does not possess the edge that I had hoped for. It is too meek now that I have noticed that my portable comlink is not around my left wrist any more. Instead of the bracelet there is a bandage.

Lor San Tekka reaches out with his unblemished hand. He strokes my left cheek with the gentleness of a Naboo spring breeze. “Do not be afraid! I had to take your communicator off, because you badly hurt yourself, when you fell on it.”

This is definitely not good.

“You slept for three hours and would not wake up.”

This is even worse.

“Leave!” I demand in a toneless voice. This single word is all that I can manage.

Lor San Tekka sits down on the mattress instead. “Do you happen to have information on the murder of Senator Amidala?”

I wonder if I will be able to find my comlink any time soon. It is my duty to contact Boba. This is clearly the emergency scenario that he always feared: somebody getting at me for my uncle's crimes.

“I am not charging you with anything, Nagina, but I believe that you know more about that poor woman's demise than you should.” With a sigh, Lor San Tekka pushes his thick brown hair back from his forehead. “You might have gotten a bad concussion there. There is no way that I am leaving your side any time soon!”

I sink back into my pillows, closing my eyes.

“Are you feeling sick again?” A slight worry swings in his voice. “Please tell me if it is the case! Old Jho can notify the next hospital immediately.”

For a moment I weigh up the odds. Sheev would not be overly amused to see my name appearing on a list of ER patients. He would not only send Boba to Lothal, he would send anybody available to report on the situation. Things would get out of hand and therefore very messy.

“No,” I sigh, thinking of the only time I had seen him enact a massacre. “It is not worth the trouble.”

“Are you sure?” Lor San Tekka probes.

“Just put a bucket next to my bed and leave!”

“You will get the bucket, but I will not leave you alone like this,” he insists.

I am too weak to be really furious, let alone to argue any longer. So, I just remain lying in my bed.

I try hard to forget the galaxy for a while, leave alone my scattered thoughts about the 'Day of Wrath'. Sheev had told me not to watch, but I had not been very obedient.

There are sights that burn into the lenses of the eyes forever.

The touch of a hand makes me jerk up in bed again.

My eyes fly open.

“Ho, Nagina!” Lor San Tekka attempts to calm me. “I just wanted to be sure that you had not passed out. You were so awfully silent and pale.”

“There is not much to say,” I offer, because all the things that I can think of are offensive to him.

“Then let me do all the necessary talking instead!” He sticks his hands in his trouser pockets and begins to pace through my bedroom. “I cannot stand seeing you this fearful of me.”

Suppressing a smile, I watch Lor San Tekka clear his throat and make his best effort to appear non-threatening.

“But I feel that you are the clue to the whole nightmare that happened on Coruscant,” he moves on.

There is something like hope in his eyes, but I have none to offer. I can hardly console myself. “You are talking to the wrong person, Lor San Tekka.”

Heat washes through my veins as he gazes back at me. There is still nothing unfriendly in that look. Nothing grim.

“I cannot expect honesty from you. I know that. But within a few days I have lost almost all of my social contacts. Jedi friends that I have known from childhood are gone. Their deaths came so suddenly and took place all over the galaxy. I cannot understand what happened.”

Tears prickle behind my eyelids. His sweetness wounds me more than any light sabre could have done. Let alone the Force lightning that my uncle can produce with his bare hands.

“I was in town to meet some friends among the Jedi Order. When I gazed out of my down-town hostel, I saw the Jedi Temple burning. I ran there without thinking. Many clone troopers were there. Threatening civilians who wanted to help. Dead padawans were scattered on the temple staircase like fallen leaves.”

I bite my lips as more tears threaten.

“A hooded man in black was their commander, but I could not see his face. It was all bathed in shadows.”

Of course, Sheev had been leading his clone troops into victory. Too long he had waited for the return of the Sith. For their revenge.

“I know a secret side entrance inside the Jedi Temple. A dear confidant made it known to me many years ago. Despite the danger, I sneaked into the most sacred heart of the temple.”

I brace myself for more heartbreak to come.

“There were bodies everywhere, mostly teenagers, but also some younglings. The youngest were barely two years of age.”

In silence the tears break out of me with the force of the Dee'ja Peak waterfall, but I continue to listen.

“In one of the classrooms, I stuffed all that I could into my back pack: holocrons, a manual, data pads, a light sabre that somebody had forgotten. Then I had to leave. More and more clone troopers entered the building. When I returned later on with an empty bag pack to save more items, the entire complex was closed down hermetically. So I decided to leave town with my precious belongings.”

A cotton handkerchief is offered to me, crinkled but clean.

“Nagina, I can see that you are a good person. That you have somehow gotten yourself in a big mess.” His voice is pressed, full of emotions. “But please, if there is anything that you can tell me who is responsible for all that mindless slaughter. Perhaps even for the death of Senator Amidala and her baby, then this is the right moment to do so.”

But I cannot answer. All I can do is to cry my eyes out. I have become the Solleu River.

Now my uncle is truly dead. Unredeemable. And in his wake he destroyed everything that I held dear.

********************************************************************

To explain myself to Bail a couple of days ago has not been a problem. He is a face of my past, of happier times. We are connected in many ways, even though he is very different from the type of people that I usually let into my life.

Boba, Asajj, Xizor, Mister Bane and Mister Ohnaka – all of them are a little out of touch, slightly insane. I can deal with them, because I am slightly broken inside as well. Because I share their history of violence to a certain extend.

Men like Lor San Tekka are fatal to me, real poison. They are too sweet, too honest in a galaxy that has gone mad. If I let him into my heart, he will break it. Not out of malice, but simply by accident.

“There is a prayer in my home community of Jedha. It fits to you, Nagina,” he says as he slumps back down on the mattress again.

Eagerly, I wait to be enlightened.

“In you all things consist and hang together:
The very atom is light energy,
the grass is vibrant,
the rocks pulsate.
All is in flux; turn but a stone and an angel moves...”

I sigh.

There are never trumpets when I reveal myself, never a choir in the background singing sinister hymns of the Sith. The naked truth just creates an uncomfortable silence. Then there is a lot of staring. In most cases, I end up getting pitied and hugged.

I wonder what Lor San Tekka will do. People from his small desert moon are known to be philosophers and pious people with forgiving hearts.

“Sheev Palpatine is the last in line of a Sith tradition that Darth Bane started, unless... he managed to find a new apprentice by now,” I say, scanning his face. “His last apprentice – Count Dooku – has been recently beheaded by General Skywalker.”

Lor San Tekka reaches for my tea mug and finishes it in one clean go. His face is somewhat ashen now. The hand that hold the mug is shaky like that of an old man. His breath is irregular. “The Sith are back?” he groans.

“They were never gone,” I prompt. “They hid in plain sight for centuries, concentrating on networking with dark allies. Politics and trade became their new weapons. The Jedi Order never wanted to look into their direction.”

He puts the mug down on the night cabinet and gets up abruptly. “If you would excuse me now, I need fresh air.”

 

hearing more and more about the dark deeds from her uncle

 

But you need to wait until Halloween for it to continue, earlybird-obi-wan! I seem to have lost my beta WarmNyota_SweetAyesha and Kahara was so kind to jump in. A fact for which I am grateful.

And RL is very event- and stressful for me. So many 40th birthdays and one wedding. All that intense present making! Sometimes with other friends, but mostly on my own.

Plus tax stuff to be figured out.

I cannot read other fanfics at present and certainly not coming up with new stuff. I lack the motivation for the latter even though DarthUncle tries to be encouraging.

See you hopefully around Halloween! This also counts for Kurisan & Sith-I-5.

SUMMERY of CHAPTER 13: ​

Two days later another neighbour introduces himself to Nagina: Lor San Tekka, a scientist of some kind. Soon he proves to be too curious and frank, asking uncomfortable questions. But she cannot get rid of him so easily.​

Suddenly, he tells her about the destruction of the Jedi temple and the brutal massacre that took place in it's ancient halls. Not even the youngest members of the order had been spared.​

But there have been more deaths: Master Yoda, General Skywalker and Senator Amidala.​

Sick to the bone, Nagina runs for the toilet, but when she comes out Lor San Tekka is still around and confronts her about the Sith brooch of her uncle. She passes out on him, hurting her left wrist.​

He put her in bed and stays with her, worried for her health.​

After a while he manages that Nagina tells him the truth about her uncle.​

Lor San Tekka, native to the desert moon of Jedha, decides to have a little walk to come to terms with those revelations. ​

 

Hey hey, I'm back from my travels and caught another section (p5 midway down, after ch4 when they go to the secret lair). This was great - hilarious (I'm hoping thst was your intention lol). I wondered first why she would remember the scimitar, then the revelation... she had a thing with maul! nice set up there. Then running to the toilet with her helmet on, greivous waiting to go in (lol cyborgs gotta go too huh?) then the hanky incident. Overall lots of funny hyginks at evil hq.

I'll be back.

 

Answered the call.

My last review was too advanced of my actual reading position, so I had to try to re-acquire my place. I'm staking my claim on Nagina being at Dexters with Palpie, trying to warn the Jedi Temple; and then being picked up by Ms Ventress. I could have the order of events mixed up, but hey.

The Ventress interactions with Nagina are good. You have your work cut out keeping these meets feeling natural.

Good conversation in the diner when Sheeve advises Nagina that he has a male heir, and defends his Dark Side test.

After she opened her mind to the Temple Guard who possibly works for Palpie, if feels like she could have tried a bit more robustly, maybe even repeating the act, when trying to convince Master Windu a second time that she is not simply a dotty young woman.

 

Dear Kurisan, I also will be back. The glorious Kahara helps me out while WarmNyota_SweetAyesha is away, which is very kind and generous of her. I will be in her debt forever!

The tax declaration is almost nicely rounded up.

My husband DarthUncle worked hard to disable the cupboards in the cellar, which are stinky and smeared with ashes since the fire many weeks ago.

And most birthday children of September and October got their birthday presents yet. But earlybird-obi-wan is still due.

Phew!

So take you time! No rush!

I am glad that you enjoyed the part of the story that has Count Dooku aka Darth Tyranus & General Grievous in it. As a writer I could not help making mockery of them. Even though I like Matthew Wood as a person since I met him personally at the Jedi Con 2010 in Düsseldorf/ Germany.

Wait for more fun stuff, but also for more thoughtful moments and shocking relevations!

Sith-I-5: Before I drag my protesting husband to the nearby fitness centre let me thank you for your long comment. Nagina tried hard with Master Windu several times, they have history! And for some reason she could never get hold of a more reasonable Jedi Master. Sith happens in life!

 

Kurisan & Sith-I-5: I had two reasons to write on. One is Kahara & the other one DarthUncle.

@earlybird-obi-wan & Darth_Furio: I might finally find some time to read other fanfics in the weekend!​

Thanks for still believing in me and caring! And taking time to read the following chapter. The next one is not due before Saint Martin´s Day (11th November):​

Chapter 14:

Lor San Tekka acts like the highway man in one of my favourite love poems. He does not come in the dawning; he does not return at noon.


More than once I catch myself gazing out of the living-room window, beating the devil's tattoo on the sill.


“Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot!”


So much for his sense of responsibility, for his willingness to forgive me my multitude of sins. Or my family circumstances.


With great difficulties I manage my visits to the toilet all by myself. I even get into one of my night dresses.


To be bereft of a functional right hand is quite a bummer. Without bacta it might take weeks to heal. But I need to be functional for the start of the kindergarten year.


Gloomily, I switch on the holonet for some news.


I had sworn to myself to stay away from the media, but I needed to know what is going on out there.


A special broadcast seems to be put on iteration loop: ’The Declaration of a New Order’.


The second I click on it, I get a static picture from a transmittance directly from the senate.


I find my uncle utterly altered. His face is distorted like that of a Koriban zombie. Something horrible must have happened to him.


“Citizens of the civilized galaxy, on this day we mark a transition. For a thousand years, the Republic stood as the crowning achievement of civilized beings. But there were those who would set us against one another, and we took up arms to defend our way of life against the Separatists. In so doing, we never suspected that the greatest threat came from within.


The Jedi, and some within our own Senate, had conspired to create the shadow of Separatism using one of their own as the enemy's leader. They had hoped to grind the Republic into ruin. But the hatred in their hearts could not be hidden forever. At last, there came a day when our enemies showed their true natures.


The Jedi hoped to unleash their destructive power against the Republic by assassinating the head of government and usurping control of the clone army. But the aims of would-be tyrants were valiantly opposed by those without elitist, dangerous powers. Our loyal clone troopers contained the insurrection within the Jedi Temple and quelled uprisings on a thousand worlds.


The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated! Any collaborators will suffer the same fate. These have been trying times, but we have passed the test. The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed, but I assure you my resolve has never been stronger. The war is over. The Separatists have been defeated, and the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. We stand on the threshold of a new beginning. In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire, for a safe and secure society, which I assure you will last for ten thousand years. An Empire that will continue to be ruled by this august body and a sovereign ruler chosen for life. An Empire ruled by the majority, ruled by a new constitution!


By bringing the entire galaxy under one law, one language, and the enlightened guidance of one individual, the corruption that plagued the Republic in its later years will never take root. Regional governors will eliminate the bureaucracy that allowed the Separatist movement to grow unchecked. A strong and growing military will ensure the rule of law.


Under the Empire's New Order, our most cherished beliefs will be safeguarded. We will defend our ideals by force of arms. We will give no ground to our enemies and will stand together against attacks from within or without. Let the enemies of the Empire take heed: those who challenge Imperial resolve will be crushed.


We have taken on a task that will be difficult, but the people of the Empire are ready for the challenge. Because of our efforts, the galaxy has traded war for peace and anarchy for stability. Billions of beings now look forward to a secure future. The Empire will grow as more planets feel the call, from the Rim to the wilds of unknown space.


Imperial citizens must do their part. Join our grand star fleet. Become the eyes of the Empire by reporting suspected insurrectionists. Travel to the corners of the galaxy to spread the principles of the New Order to barbarians. Build monuments and technical wonders that will speak of our glory for generations to come.


The clone troopers, now proudly wearing the name of Imperial storm troopers, have tackled the dangerous work of fighting our enemies on the front lines. Many have died in their devotion to the Empire. Imperial citizens would do well to remember their example.


The New Order of peace has triumphed over the shadowy secrecy of shameful magicians. The direction of our course is clear. I will lead the Empire to glories beyond imagining.


We have been tested, but we have emerged stronger. We move forward as one people: the Imperial citizens of the first Galactic Empire. We will prevail. Ten thousand years of peace begins today.”


I close my eyes and switch of the broadcast.


An old saying of our Naboo forebears is that one star's end is a black hole's beginning.


The entire galaxy is trapped into an event horizon and my uncle is the force who keeps us all in limbo.


If Lor San Tekka saw this special broadcast, too, he will never return to me. I am sure of it.


********************************************************************


The dawn brings an unexpected visitor into my home, carrying a huge bouquet of Gladioli. The sword lilies are as white and crisp as his military uniform.


I frown at him, neglect my tea bag.


“Ina,” the tall human man greets me informally as he enters my kitchen.


“Orson!” I gasp for it has to be him. Only he ever used that nickname. Anxious, I wait for confirmation.


Finally, my visitor inclines his head slightly and takes off his green army cap. Bright-blue eyes gaze at me full of adoration and love.


“It is really you!” I squeal.


Orson Krennic's hair is wavy light-brown, but less dishevelled then it used to be in his childhood. I suppose a high ranking officer cannot afford to have a bad hair day.


“I am sorry for my intrusion, but you did not answer the door,” he points out, a tender rebuke in his voice. “Nor did care to you lock it!”


“It is not necessary around here, believe me!” I beam. “This is a really nice neighbourhood. Like it was back for us on Chandrila.”


He breaks eye contact to glare into my garden. “Let us hope it stays this way!”


“What gives me the honour of your surprise visit?” I inquire.


“The honour is fully on my side,” he says. There is a faint tremor in his throaty, smoky voice. “May I hug the wonderful person who used to babysit me?”


I scoff. “The last time we met, you told me to take a dive into a sarlacc pit and never return.”


“This is not fair!” he protests and sounds very much like the temperamental child I saw growing up. “I was but eight year old and angry at the University of Alderaan for taking you away from me.”


I let him embrace me. His breath tickles my skin, while I let him give me the traditional Chandrilan kiss of greeting. His lips touch my left cheek, then my right one and then the left again.


“Amazing, you still smell of grass and flowers!” he remarks. “But then again: you were always an outside person.”


“Is this an official business?” I ask and step back, peering at his insignia.


Orson opens his collar a bit and takes off his black leather gloves, sticking them into his belt. “No, it is more a private call.” He points as my bandage. “But pray, what happened to you?”


“I fell last night.” I hope I do not speak too hastily. “A neighbour took care of me, but... she... she could not stay. She had work to do in the city centre.”


Orson nods to that, obviously not noticing my lies. “I can keep you company, if you want me to. I happen to have two days off.”


Sheev is behind this. This visit is no coincidence. I am not a total fool.


********************************************************************


My special guest takes up camp in my living-room and uses my sofa as his personal bunk. While he puts the bed sheet on, he finds a single black hair in between the cracks. It is awfully long and I curse myself for not having cleaned up properly. There might be some treacherous reptile scales as well.


“Has your neighbour slept in your home?” he wonders, while he turns the hair around mid-air. His lips are more narrow than usual.


I do not wish to tell him about either Xizor and fib, “Yes, she has.”


Not much later Orson walks into my bathroom and changes. When he comes out, he wears a dark woollen sweater and equally dark work trousers.


At nightfall we sit at the living-room table and enjoy Naboo lettuce with balsamico and fresh raspberries. I am still proud that a plant of my native planet manages so nicely on Lothal. At least in this my uncle chose my exile well.


“Should I ask who exactly gave you my current address?” I inquire after a tactful while of shared silence. “Or is that classified?”


“I am glad so little has changed, Ina. You still ask questions that you already know the answer to, don't you?” He drops his voice as if to offer a state secret. “I can assure you that the Emperor tries to make sure that you are safe. Even if you fail to lock your property.”


“I wish Sheev would just leave me be,” I sigh and from his frown I take it that Orson did not know my uncle's birth name before. “If he goes on like that, the worst case scenario will take place! One of his enemies will bring me down.”


“Nobody will harm you.” He is silent for a moment, considering his further answer. I am not fond of lame promises. He still remembers that. “For you the Emperor will not even touch the local kyber crystal mines. A pity, if you ask me. Here on Lothal the crystals are so extra ordinarily big, hold so much potential.”


I look Orson straight in the eyes, remembering his fondness for power and dangerous toys. The blaster that he build all by himself had killed the family dog by accident. He had been so heartbroken.


I consider all the facts, before I challenge him, “You are not involved into building some kind of super weapon, are you?”


For a brief heartbeat his countenance wavers. Then his features become unfathomable again. “Why would you ask such a thing?”


“Sheev has this plans for a huge battle station since the Battle of Geonosis. Now that he made himself Emperor, I wonder if he will get back to that pet project of his.”


“Oh, Ina, I begin to understand why you are out here in the middle of nowhere.” Admiration and pain are written in his blue eyes. “You analyse others too much.”


I put my cutlery away, not hungry any more. “You mean too well?” I snap.


“As a child I was afraid of your ability to read me. You seemed to be some kind of witch. A white one, mind you, but a witch anyway.” He dabs his mouth with a napkin and pushes his half-empty plate away. “Right now, I pity the fact that you will never join the Empire on its way to success. You are too liberal in your views. ”


“Tyranny is never an enduring success.” I lift my chin. “Have you learned nothing from the fairy tales that I read to you for your bed time? In the end villains always loose against the good guys.”


He studies my face. “With you as our military leader the Clone Wars would have been a different affair altogether. You would have given some of the Separatist leaders a time-out on the 'naughty step'. Or make them hug wounded Jedi Generals after a battle, telling them that they are sorry. Unfortunately, such strategies work in a kindergarten setting only, but not in real life.”


I crease up my napkin and throw it on my plate. “Why are you really here? Certainly not to make mockery of me. Or to criticize my point of view.”


“We cannot stop someone like Prince Xizor to pay you his respect. He is a force of nature to be reckoned with. But we will keep the scum of this galaxy away from your door.”


“That scum used to be useful to Sheev when he needed them!” I exclaim. “I always regarded them as persons in their own right.”


“Ina,” Orson says evenly, “Each bounty hunter that you are acquainted to, would take you into custody and sell you to the highest bidder. At any time. With no remorse whatsoever. And you know it to be true. Those men and women have no honour.”


“And Imperial officers like you have?”


His face reddens slightly.“Fair crack of the whip, Ina!” He even falls back into his old Chandrilan farmer accent. “Your concept of honour does not fit the standards of the New Galactic Empire any longer. Many of the things that you believe in are out-dated.”


“And you want to give me that certain update long due? Override my programme? Just like that?” I put my hands on my hips. “Will you use white torture on me? Or drugs?”


“Are you suggesting, I could harm you? G'arn!” he asks, unbelievingly. “The woman who taught me how to walk, how to use a scissor and even how to use the toilet like a real man? ”


I watch him sink down on his chair, his face in his hands.




“I am not your enemy, Ina. I am here to put some things straight. Why do you hate us so much?” He runs a hand through his hair. “The Emperor warned me that this was not an easy mission. That it would be a test of my will power and my nerves. How well he knows you!”


I cannot stand seeing Orson so agitated. He means well, so does my uncle, but I do not reacted well to a cage. Both men should know that. “Do all of my future visitors need to check in with you before seeing me?”


Something like relief spreads over his face. “With your circle of friends and acquaintances it is always difficult to say who is an enemy of the state and who is not.”


“This is very judgemental, don't you think?” I challenge him.


Orson rubs his hands together. “Let us play a strategy game to manifest the rules for the right to visit you here on Lothal,” he says.


He makes it sound like I have a say, as if I can make any difference. But I know that I do not. Sheev already has my life planned. He only sends Orson, somebody that I have tender feelings for, to cement his will. This is the worst form of manipulation imaginable.


********************************************************************


I let Orson bring the dishes and cutlery into the kitchen, while I feverishly search for the board games that I have already unpacked.


After some extreme pondering, I choose 'Triominos', a game that is based on the principle of 'Dominoes'. The players have to chose tiles that match up to other tiles in the play area. The goal is to gather points and to be rid of one's own tiles.


I place the titles on the table. They are triangles with numbers that are matched on each side. Each triangle has three numbers at the points. With each move a player makes the two numbers on the side need to be matched.


Orson approves of my choice and sits down.


Around midnight and two more board games further – 'Take It Easy' and 'Digit'– I at least have won the right to have my foster-parents and little Mara visit me. Old kindergarten colleagues and former wards will also be welcome on Lothal soil.


We say good-night to one another in a civilized manner, because I am too tired to argue. Too upset to speak up against the injustice and manipulation that occurred here tonight.


I walk into the kitchen to pull myself a mug of lavender tea.


Sheev and Orson call it protection, but it is a special form of house arrest really. I know too many secrets and obviously too many people in this galaxy.


********************************************************************


While I am brushing my teeth there is a knock at the window. Very soft, uncertain almost. I open it and am confronted with an upset Lor San Tekka immediately. His clothing is dirty and his hair but a mess. Blades of grass stick in it.


“That Imperial visitor of yours, is he a danger to you?” he whispers as he scans me thoroughly.


“No,…. he is just... somebody... that I used to know,” I speak with foam in my mouth.


His blue-gray eyes warm. He smiles hesitantly, a sweet, shy smile that makes my knees go weak. “You seem to know a lot of people in this galaxy, Nagina,” he says.


I spit the foam out and clean my mouth with some water, before I answer back, “Now you sound exactly like my uncle. He always criticized that ability of mine to connect with others.”


“Your uncle. Of course.” His face is as white as the moonlight outside. The whole truth dawns on him. “Now I can stop to wonder why Palpatine left you alive after his coup d'état.”


“Love is the answer,” I say, sounding a bit pert. “And Sheev sent me off before he became the Emperor. Before he unleashed the whole power of the dark side.”


Lor San Tekka scratches his chin. “You need to brief me about your uncle's heart another time.”


“So this is not a definitive good-bye?” I shuffle my feet nervously. I had not realized how badly I want his trust. How important it is to me.


He laughs and it is a warm hum in the cool autumn night. Suddenly, he reaches through the window to touch my left cheek, allowing his fingers to glide over my skin. “You have some tooth paste there,” he explains without answering my question.


“Really?” My lips tremble even though my heart makes a joyful leap.


With the edge of his sleeve Lor San Tekka starts cleaning, but then he stops altogether. Something flickers in his eyes.


Before I can ask myself what is wrong, he shoves his torso through the window frame. He cups my face in both hands and kisses my forehead.


“This night and every night the Force grant to you light.
This night and every night the Force grant to you peace.
This night and every night the Force grant to you rest.
This night and every night the Force grant to you grace.
This night and every night the Force grant to you joy.”


A good night blessing.


It pleases me that he is not running for the hills.


“I have something else for you still.” Lor San Tekka places a single daisy on the window sill, closing the fingers of my healthy hand around it. “Now I better get going again. Your overnight guest wears a uniform of the newly formed intelligence forces.”


“Orson is more an engineer and scientist,” I explain. “Always was.”


“Which does not make him any less dangerous. In the sithly grip of your uncle everybody might turn into a weapon sooner or later.” He hesitates. “Be brave! And may the Force be with you. At least until we meet again! ”




Translation from the Chandrilan rural dialect into Basic:

Fair crack of the whip! = Give me a break!
G´arn. = Go on, you´re kidding.

 

There have been quite a few moments where I wondered how Nagina survived this long without being taken out by Sheev - but of course, she's harmless isn't she

Or maybe not ...
Aww, little Orson learning how to pee properly (with the seat down I presume, given the authors gender?), heh.

You switch between optimism and despair quite fluidly, while making it believable (if showing Nagina to be a bit of a dramatic, totally unlike the author ).

Looking forward to the rest. Will Lor be back, or will the whiteshirts get him on Jakku first, without his dark haired Innkeepers' daughter to warn him?

 

Yeah, three readers left for this story: my kind beta Kahara, Darth Gangrenous who have me a "like" & you, husband DarthUncle. Reason enough to stay cheerful about this particular story. Somebody still cares & makes clever comments about the fanfic!

SUMMERY of CHAPTER 14:​

Her new neighbour does not return. Nagina searches the HoloNet for the latest news from Coruscant and is confronted with her uncle's“Declaration of a New Order”. He made himself emperor.​

Instead of Lor San Tekka a familiar face from the past turns up in her humble home, bringing flowers with him. It is Orson Krennic, her former babysitter child from Chandrila. He seems to be a high ranking officer in the army of the New Galactic Empire.​

Soon, Nagina is confronted with the bitter truth: she is a hostage of Sheev. And the boy she helped to grow up is her jailer. She will not be allowed to meet everybody she longs for. ​

 

This hug means a lot to me.

a) it comes from you

and

b) it shows that another person cares for this story still, which is a totally different affair than my Lucien stories.

The next update is due on the 11th November 2016 with Chapter 15, which might give Kurisan and Sith-I-5 enough time to catch up IF they are still interested in reading it.

Otherwise I am sorry for tagging you two! Please tell me immediately via PM if it was wrong tagging you in the first place! THEN IT WON´T HAPPEN AGAIN!

Since last October I am a bit paranoid about my activities here on the fan fiction boards which gave me a lot of heartbreak and loss of balance ever since.

So I took a kind advice of MsLanna... which eased things a bit for me, but it is not the same as it used to for about 10 years time.

I am also happy that Kahara, who has better things to do, agreed to help me out with beta-editing.

And sorry, DarthUncle that I am not in bed as I should be and that I might give you a lot of trouble in the morning, before you are able to stir me out of the front door. I promise to be a good girl at work. You can call my kiddies and ask them any time!

 

Hey, I happen to enjoy beta reading this! I may be ten miles behind in comments, but I'm like that everywhere. By all means, keep me tagged in.

 

Now I can go to work happily! Thanks for your kind words.

 

Continue to tag me. I visited your story, but ran out of time before I could re-acquire where I have read up to. It feels like your prose shifts around like a dynamic maze, so I arrive at the kid who found Najina on the park bench, and think, "Okay, if this is here, where is..."

 

Still following this delightful story

 

Decided today to leave the earlier chapters that I missed; too much of a hassle to re-acquire.

I'll just read whatever is most recent.

 

Thanks, dear earlybird-obi-wan.

I am now in Chapter 14 and around the end of the month I might be able to give you a little summery about the plot in each chapter!