Before - Legends Saga - PT Before the Saga Saga - Legends Shadow's Thieves | The Kessel Run 2025 | Kit'verse

Mirroring haiku. Short, powerful and a nice found poem

 

Stunning haiku. I adore how the two situations contrast: first only darkness, feeling unloved. Then light and love are there. And it's not just thinking "Okay, I was loved for about a minute." But always. Sweet.

 

Thank you!

Thank you

Thank you

 

Challenge: Write a story between 100 and 400 words, and include these three words: privilege, vault, cascade

*

Inheritance

*

The office smells of old books, wealth and privilege. I inhale the scent, hating myself for the feeling it evokes. A cascade of memories accompanies the smell. I am six, desperate for my mother’s attention. A teenager full of unspoken rebellion. A young graduate refusing their place in the family firm. In every memory my mother sits unspeaking behind a heavy, wooden desk. In none of those memories is she smiling.

Now the chair is empty, but the desk still dominates the space. I run my fingers across the polished surface. I don’t cry. Crying would suggest sadness. I am not sad that she is gone.

“Ms. Tamarsenka.” The voice at the door makes me start slightly. I pivot, hiding the way my hands clench – although whether it’s an automatic fight reaction from being a P.I. or from being back in this office, I can’t tell. The grey-whiskered Zabrak at the door shuffles inside. “I’m Datra N’kito, your mother’s lawyer, I’m sorry I am late.”

The old Togruta pauses when he reaches me, glancing between me and the imposing, albeit empty, chair on the other side of the desk.

“This may take a while, if you’d like to sit, perhaps?”

I bite back a million retorts and settle for a brief, mirthless smile. It’s not hard. I don’t feel particularly jolly at the moment. Every part of my felacatian heritage is screaming at me to vault the hard leather couches that lie between me and the door and escape.

“I’m fine standing,” I say after a beat.

He clears his throat. “Then I will be brief.”

“With your mother’s departure…” he starts. I almost laugh. Departure. Such a polite word for death. “There is the question of inheritance. As your parents' only surviving child...”

Something within me stills. I know what’s coming next. Somehow that makes it worse.

“You inherit the entire Tamarsenka estate.”

There it is. The final act of my mother. The only way she knew that she could make me come home. I hate her for it.

I glance at the desk, the chair, the portrait that hangs above it - an austere woman in a perfectly pressed suit. One of her hands rests on the shoulder of a blank-faced child – me.

I shiver.

She always had to win.

Not this time. I grit my teeth.

“In that case,” I say, my voice hardening, “my first act is to get rid of that desk.”

 

A harsh mother and her final act. But she conquers it and gets rid of the desk

 

A heavy load of undercurrents of resentment and estrangement in the lack of sorrow, the parental coldness as symbolized by the desk, the fact that leaving the inheritance was totally a matter of duty and/or manipulation.

 

Catching up, catching up...

Paths

Like others said, these were beautiful haiku and it was really nifty to have them mirroring each other. I also like that, in the framework of this collection, they could apply to many characters – Anakin being the obvious one and the "reference" for such things in SW, but this could also apply to any of the characters of the Kit'verse that have gone though many iterations and AUs, for instance dark!Zallie from a few weeks ago and "regular" Zallie, or even different moments of Del's life.

Inheritance

I want to say "yay, more Nyx background!" but that doesn't feel appropriate given the mood of this story. Yup, I can understand why Nyx didn't want to join the family business, and I can totally empathise with her loathing for the desk in particular! It's terrible to be manipulated by an overbearing parent, and in this case it's extra ironic to think that the ultimate manipulation comes after the parent's death. We know from a previous story that Nyx will eventually be able to use her mother's parting gift to a good end, but in that moment she must really feel trapped – until the cogs of her brain start whirring...

 

Yep, and is much happier the moment the desk is gone.

You absolutely hit the nail on the head with the fact that it was entirely Nyx's mother's last act of manipulation.

Thank you

It's one of those "Always has to have the last word" situations that doesn't work out well for anyone (well, it doesn't work out well for those people left alive).

I figured out of all of them Zallie would quickly become the leader. Nicco makes a great leader, but he'd be far too soft if the rest of the family was evil (basically Nicco would avoid conflict), Estra would just get angry too quickly, F'kisi would just enforce whatever Estra said, Kei and Taro are too chaotic and too young...and Zallie knows how to get what she wants.

Ooo! That does sound busy. I'm glad she's settling in well though

Maybe...although there are just so many things that need to be completed!

Awww, thank you so much

 

Challenge: Write an embedded narrative over 2000 words long.
Author's note: This is a continuation of Week 2's challenge - Perspicacity

***

The Pirate and the Princess

The early morning air was cool and damp against her skin. Somewhere in the distance a nightingale was still singing, but everything else about the palace was quiet and hushed. Breha picked up her still steaming caff and settled herself on the outdoor chair. The book lay on the table next to her, and she brushed its cover with her fingertips. The fine details of the handbound leather were a strange balm to the surge of anxiety that came whenever she picked it up.

She hadn’t quite believed Master Dor when he’d said he was keeping the story of how he’d rescued her mother from pirates for the plot of one of his books. Davin had managed to dance so artfully around her questions that she’d started to almost believe that the entire story was a concoction of her mother’s to amuse a young child and that Master Dor had just played along. The only thing that had kept her from dismissing it entirely was the look on Davin’s face when he’d talked about love as the choices that people had to make. The wistfulness of his voice kept that tiny spark alive, the one that made her believe that behind her mother’s carefully controlled demeanour was a younger woman who had once escaped pirates and fallen in love with a Jedi.

So, when the book arrived yesterday, it was a surprise. From the moment she’d unwrapped it, she’d spent every waking moment devouring the contents.

Breha took a sip of caff and settled back into the chair. She thumbed open the book, her fingers tracing across the personalised message, written in Davin’s long, flowing script.

To the princess of my princess - a late and unworthy wedding present.


Breha took a steadying breath, found her bookmark nestled snugly between the pages and started reading.


*


“I hate you.”

“I know.”

I glared at the pirate. He grinned. His dark hair hung in loose curls around his face. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his confidence irritatingly effortless. As if I posed no threat to him - which, quite frankly, I didn’t. Not after three days of banging my fists on the door until they were swollen and bruised. Not when I considered the swell of his arm muscles barely contained by the sleeves of his shirt.

Much to my current chagrin, I’d screamed, begged, cried and argued too - but every effort had been met with silence. I would have thought they’d forgotten about me, if it hadn’t been for the regular deliveries of food pushed through the flap in the door.

One of his eyebrows rose, and his smile deepened. “If I was in your situation, I’d hate me too.”

“You could release me.” I said, knowing it was pointless.

This time he actually laughed, a low, warm sound that, despite my current predicament, made something curl tight in my stomach.

“Why would I do that?” he asked. “You’re my part of the bounty for taking the Kin-kip’si. I gave up my share of everything else - for you.”

That sounded ominous. A shiver swept through me. I took a step back, my hand scrabbling against the meagre possessions I’d collected until it touched something cool and metal. I grabbed it, holding it in front of me.

It was a spoon.

The young man’s grin only widened. He stepped inside, the door hushing closed behind him.

“Stay away from me,” I spat.

“Or what? You’ll spoon me to death?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. Then, unexpectedly, his smile faded. “I’m not going to do anything to you, you have my word.”

I regarded him silently, the spoon quivering in my hands. “How can I trust you? You’re a pirate.”

He shrugged. “You can’t, because you’re right, I am a pirate. But I’m the pirate who argued that I should have you instead of doing what Captain Orin wanted—which was to throw you out the airlock or hand you over to the crew.” His voice darkened, and something flickered across his face—anger? Disgust? “You need to do what I say, because I know who you are, Princess Bren, and I’m your only way home.”

Princess. The title ran like ice down my spine.

I’d heard of what pirates had done to Lady Shana of Trellan. When her parents hadn’t come up with the ransom money fast enough, the pirates had disposed of her body in a horrifyingly public fashion. It was part of the reason my mother had been so against my taking this trip. But pirates weren’t supposed to be in this sector. It was supposed to be safe. I was supposed to be safe.

“You’re the pirates who killed Lady Shana?” I asked, hating how my voice trembled.

The pirate was still watching me carefully.

“Yes,” he said, as if he could read my mind. “We are those pirates, but what happened to Lady Shana was before my time.”

As if that was supposed to be comforting.

“So, what do you want with me?” This time I tried for defiance, hands on hips and chin thrust out. My voice only wobbled a bit.

The young man bit his bottom lip as if suppressing a smile. “I brought you clothes. You’ve been sitting in those for three days; I figured you might want new ones and a proper meal.”

I blinked. That was… unexpected.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I asked warily.

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Because I feel like it, and that’s the only answer, princess, that you’ll get.” He turned, heading towards the door. “I’ll let you get changed.”

“Wait,” I blurted out as his fingertips brushed the door lock. “What’s your name?”

I didn’t know why I asked. Maybe I just wanted to know something about him. Something real.

“Dax,” he said, giving a short but almost theatrical bow. “You can call me Dax.”


*

I’m not sure what I should have expected from a pirate ship. Most holos show them as rough and dirty, barely held together with rust and tape, but the corridor I was walking along was clean and sleek. The crew, however, looked exactly how I imagined.

We passed a group playing sabaac. Several of them looked up, eyes dark with interest. One of them leered.

“Keep close,” Dax murmured as I followed him down the hall.

I lifted my chin. “I’m not afraid of you or your kind.”

His lips twitched. “Your choice of a spoon as a weapon definitely showed that.”

I scowled.

“You sure you want her, Dax?” One of the crew, an Iktotchi, grinned. “Swap you for my next three splits.”

“Thrad, your splits of the treasure aren’t worth her little pinky,” Dax shot back. His hand landed on my shoulder. I should have flinched. I should have shoved him away. But I didn’t. The warmth of his palm seeped through the fabric, grounding me in a way I didn’t expect.

“Then at least give me a little taste,” Thrad leered, rising to his feet.

He barely took two steps before Dax moved. One moment he was beside me, the next he had Thrad pinned to the wall, one arm pressing hard against the man’s throat. A vibro knife gleamed in his other hand, its tip resting against Thrad’s skin.

The Iktotchi went rigid, his eyes bulging.

“Do not touch her.” Dax said, his voice a guttural growl. "That goes for anyone on the crew. Do I make myself clear?"

Thrad’s face turned purple. Dax held him there for another heartbeat before releasing him.

Thrad coughed, rubbing his throat. “Wouldn’t want her anyway. Not after you’ve been with her.”

The knife flashed. Thrad howled, clutching his arm.

Dax didn’t even spare him another glance. He just grabbed my shoulder and steered me away.

“Four,” he muttered as we walked.

I frowned. “Four what?”

I couldn't make sense of Dax. One moment he was bringing me clothes and telling me to watch myself and the next he was knifing people and demanding respect.

He stopped in an alcove, his hand tightening on my shoulder as he spun me to face him.

"Four," he repeated. "Four is the number of people I've had to either injure or kill to keep you safe."

"If you think I'm going to be more trouble than I'm worth then just let me off at the next planet," I said, frowning. "I didn't ask for you to become my protector."

"No, you didn't ask..." He trailed off with a shake of his head. "This is ridiculous," he murmured mostly to himself.

"What is ridiculous?" I asked, confused by how quickly the argument had changed tack.

“You. This situation.” His jaw clenched, like he wanted to say more, but instead, he turned and stalked off.

I hesitated for a moment, weighing up my options. I could either follow Dax or take my chances with Thrad and the rest of the sabaac playing pirates. I glanced at Dax retreating back, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the elegant ease of his stride.

I took a deep breath. He wasn't my first choice, but it was better than wandering the halls of the ship alone.

I sighed and jogged after him.

*

I’d followed Dax in miserable silence down another identical corridor. I was beginning to suspect the ship’s designer had either been completely mad or had an unnatural love for labyrinths. The winding halls weren’t just disorienting, they were frustratingly repetitive. Each sharp turn gave me the distinct feeling that I was walking in circles. If the goal was to confuse anyone who dared to board the ship, it was certainly working. My head ached from trying to remember the path.

He paused long enough for me to catch up, then grinned at me. “We’ll wait here a minute,” he said. “I’ll let you catch your breath and give you a moment to memorise the way you think we’ve come.”

I glared at him, wondering how, once again, he’d seemingly known what I was thinking. Deciding not to reply, I made a study of the walls, the squeaky-clean floor, and the endless series of identical doors spaced equidistant down the corridor.

Dax cleared his throat. “This part of the ship’s mostly crew quarters and storage. Try not to touch anything unless you want someone to shoot you.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Dax held up a hand. A second later I heard the steady thump of footsteps down the corridor and then a giant Dowutin appeared. He was so tall his head almost grazed the ceiling. His chin horns were polished to a dull gleam and banded with gold.

“Strom,” Dax said, and I saw the flicker of the smile. “Looking fine as always.” He turned to me. “Bren, this is our first mate. Strom, this is Bren.” I blinked rapidly, unnerved by my new, shortened name. Dax ignored my puzzlement and grinned first at me and then at the Dowutin. “I expect the captain’s looking for me?”

“You would be correct,” Strom said, his voice reverberating down the hallway. “He’s none too happy about what you did to Thad.”

Dax nodded his head. “Let me drop my bounty to my quarters-”

“Captain wants to meet her too,” Strom said, giving a tiny nod in my direction. I felt his eyes rake over me, but unlike the other pirates there was nothing invasive or creepy in his look. “Figure he should know what was worth you taking out one of his best fighters.”

“I think calling Thad a good fighter is overselling it,” Dax said. He paused and then gave a small flourish with his hand. “Lead the way.”

Strom rolled his eyes, turned and lumbered back the way he had come.

Dax only hesitated a moment, but I could see from the way he moved that he wasn’t nearly as unconcerned as he pretended to be.

He dropped back beside me.

“Whatever you do,” he said quietly, “don’t let the captain know who you really are.”

“Because?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “Only you want the ransom from my parents and the pleasure of throwing me out of an airlock when they refuse to give in to your demands? Is that why you changed my name?”

Dax closed his eyes; his jaw clenching and I could see how much my dig had rattled him. Eventually he sighed. “No, because I’m the only thing standing between you and that airlock door. We got plenty of heat after what happened to Lady Shandra, and she was only a minor noble. I don’t think Captain Orin wants the heat from kidnapping and killing a princess.”

Without another word he turned and strode off down the corridor. This time he didn’t slow down for me to keep pace, and I found myself almost running to keep up. At least the journey was mercifully brief. A set of heavy doors loomed at the end of corridor, the metal reinforced and lined with what looked like plating - probably as a warning that whatever was behind those doors wasn’t to be taken lightly.

Strom was waiting for us. As soon as we approached, he pushed the button. The doors slid silently open.

The room inside was spacious, light, and surprisingly airy. The desk in the centre of the room was covered with a mess of data pads, blaster parts and paperwork. The man behind it was broad shouldered, his salt and pepper hair cut close. He shook his head as Dax and I approached.

“Tell me,” he said solemnly. “Why I shouldn’t toss you out of an airlock, Dax.”

“Because you like me too much,” Dax said. He stood casually, her thumbs tucked into his pockets, his fingers tapped some unseen rhythm. The atmosphere of the room seemed to change slightly, and I frowned trying to work out the difference.

“I do like you,” the captain repeated. His demeanour had changed to one of smiling beneficence. “Which is lucky for you. Also, I wanted to see if your acquisition was worth it.” His gaze flicked over me and then back to Dax. “She seems pretty enough. I’m sure she could fetch a pretty penny on the slave market.”

I bristled, but Dax spoke before I could. “I think that’d be more hassle than it was worth, don’t you?”

His fingers drummed the same tattoo again.

The captain frowned, as if trying to clear his head, and then nodded. “Definitely more hassle.” He looked up at Dax again. “But she’s worth something to you though?”

“She is.” Dax glanced sideways at me, his eyes strangely warm. “I’ve given up my split of the treasure for her, and much more besides.” He smiled. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

His fingers drummed again. I found myself watching Dax’s hands intently without really understanding why.

Captain Orin nodded. He leaned back in his chair, his brow wrinkling. “And she won’t get in the way of the masaai job?”

Dax shook his head. “You won’t even notice she’s onboard.”

His fingers moved again. The captain’s face relaxed. I was now staring at Dax in bewilderment.

“The plans are all in place for the strike on masaai.” Strom’s voice from the doorway made me jump. I had been so focused on working out the hold Dax seemed to have over the captain that I’d forgotten about the first mate.

Dax shook his head. “That’s sorted. Once we clear Hutt space we should be in and out without anyone noticing.”

“Hutt space?” I murmured, slightly alarmed. Everyone ignored me.

“Any possibility of problems from the Hutts?” Strom asked.

Dax made a face and shrugged. “We’re passing through the edge of their space, so there will be some threat. Luckily, it’s not high and nothing we can’t repel.” He smiled at the captain. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“I trust you Dax,” the captain echoed. “You have a good head on your shoulders. Good instincts too, like some sort of Jedi.”

For a second Dax stiffened. “You know my feelings about the Jedi,” he spat. “They are the reason I’m in this life after all.”

Captain Orin stood, holding out his hands placatingly. “I know, Dax. I’m just glad you’re on our side and not theirs.”

Dax bowed his head slightly as if to acknowledge the compliment. Then he clicked his heels together and turned sharply. I turned and followed after him, still trying to puzzle through his interactions with the captain. As I passed Strom, I noticed that he too was watching Dax carefully, his eyes slightly narrowed.

*

Dax’s quarters turned out to be larger than I’d expected, although still cramped in comparison to my former suite on the Kin’kip’si. The room was long and narrow. One side had a single cot, with well-worn sheets and a blanket, the corners of which were folded with almost military precision. The rest of the room, a low set table, couch, and dresser were equally as neat. Although from the small amount I’d seen of Dax, I wondered why I was surprised it was anything else.

I sat on the edge of his cot, crossed my arms and scowled at him.

He didn’t notice. He was leaning back on a chair, one boot propped on the small table, his hands behind his head, perfectly at ease.

“So now what? I stay here until you decide what I’m worth? Until you-” I paused, my nose wrinkling in disgust. “Until you get from me what Thad wanted?”

“No, princess, I can assure you that I will never hurt you.” Dax took his foot off the chair and sat up, his face wrinkling with momentary disgust. Despite myself, I felt momentarily hurt by his casual dismissal.

“Because I should believe a pirate who has kidnapped me,” I hissed.

Dax shook his head, his face momentarily creasing into a smile. “I prefer ‘guest under duress.’ Has a nicer ring to it. But yes, you should believe me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I might be a pirate,” Dax said, with a sigh and leant back in his chair again. “But I’m an honest pirate. I haven’t lied to you, and I’m not about to start either.”

I laughed, even though part of me believed him. Dax hadn’t done anything to hurt me, even though he’d had the opportunity. Even now, in the privacy of his quarters he had deliberately chosen not to sit next to me.

“You said you’d killed four people,” I muttered.

“Yes, but none of them were you,” Dax said, his eyes now closed. The silence stretched between us, filled with the hum of the distant engines. “The four people I’ve hurt or killed were because of you, princess. Although four people isn’t a lot when you consider my line of work.”

“You like killing people,” I said, trying to rattle him. It worked. Dax tipped forward on the chair and stood up.

“Not particularly,” he said, walking to the other side of the room. His words were clipped, and I took momentary pleasure in the fact I’d managed to wipe the smug smile from his face.

He rummaged through a set of drawers until he pulled out a shirt. Then, seemingly without realising I was there, he pulled the shirt he was wearing over his head.

For a second, I felt like a nerf caught in a speeder’s lights. I blushed and turned away but not before I’d seen the way his muscular back flexed as he lifted his arms over his head. He turned, and I caught sight of the rest of him. As he pulled the shirt down, the movement sent that same curl of heat through my stomach. His chest and abdomen were as perfectly sculpted as his back. Every movement showed his muscles had been built from a lifetime of work. I wondered what it would feel like to run my hands along that smooth skin, see if it was as firm as it looked.

My breath caught in my throat. I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze to the dull metal walls, berating myself for finding him anything other than completely detestable.

“You could at least warn me before you start stripping,” I muttered.

Dax chuckled. “You didn’t have to look. It’s my quarters. I’m not sure where else I’m supposed to get dressed.”

I turned back, glaring. “I'm your 'guest under duress' remember?”

“Semantics,” he said, tugging the fresh shirt over his head. He didn’t seem the least bit affected, but I felt like my skin was burning. Maybe it was just the recycled air in the ship. Or the exhaustion.

“Are you always this insufferable?” I crossed my arms.

Dax smirked, his usual lazy confidence slipping back into place. “Only when I’m around royalty.”

Before I could fire back, there was a sharp knock at the door. Dax took two steps over, opened it and smiled. There was a quick exchange of words, and I saw coins change hands before Dax returned carrying a tray with two covered dishes and mugs of drink.

“You get dinner delivered?” I said, archly. “Must be a pretty cruisy life as a pirate.”

“I help people out,” Dax said, taking a cover off one of the trays. Thick slabs of meat and helpings of vegetables covered nearly every inch of the plate. I had eaten when I’d been imprisoned, but the gruel they’d provided had been nothing compared to this. My mouth watered. I looked up and realised Dax was watching me watch the food. “I help people out,” Dax repeated. “And they return the favour. Even if that favour is a hot dinner in my quarters so my guest doesn’t go hungry.”

“I’m not hungry.”

My stomach, always the traitor, rumbled.

“Sounds like it,” Dax said, shrugging slightly. He sat down on the floor and pulled one plate unceremoniously towards him. “I’m not going to force you to eat, princess, but I’m not going without my food just because you believe a hunger-strike is your ticket home.”

I slid off the bed and onto the floor. Dax said nothing, just carefully picked up the plate and put it in front of me, before removing the lid with a flourish. My mouth watered. I picked up the fork and winced. The bruises on my hands from where I’d slammed them repeatedly into the wall ached.

“May I see?” Dax asked gently.

“Why?” I asked, “why do you care?”

He didn’t say anything, just held his hand out. I hesitated for a moment, but there was something in his manner that made me relent.

Slowly I held out my hands.

Dax set his own fork. When his hand touched mine, I felt it. A shift. A pulse. Something that hadn’t been there a second ago. From the way Dax paused, just for a second, he had felt it too. My face heated and I almost pulled my hand away, but he was cradling it gently as if he was somehow afraid he would hurt me further.

His touch was light as he turned my hands over, inspecting the mottled bruises that coloured my knuckles and the swelling that extended out the outer edge of my palm. I stared at his hands, they were calloused and hard from work and couldn’t help but notice how delicately they handled my battered palms. He traced the outline of one of the bruises gently, as if he had every right to do so.

“You’re lucky nothing’s broken,” he murmured, his voice lower now. He didn’t look at me, just focused on my hands, but his tone had shifted—less cavalier, more… careful. “This looks so painful.”

“I didn’t exactly have a lot of options,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “You locked me in.”

He glanced up then, and there was something searching in his gaze. “I locked you in so I could make sure you were safe. You saw Thad’s response to you. I had to call in a lot of favours to make sure you stayed unharmed.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to thank him. I didn’t want to admit I’d been scared. I just wanted to eat the stupid food and pretend I hadn’t spent the last three days thinking I might die in that room.

“I’ll get you some bacta for your hands,” he said after a moment. He gently let them go and I felt the momentary loss of his touch.

He stood, disappearing through a door and into what I assumed was the fresher. A moment later he returned with a medkit and knelt down beside me.

“May I?” he asked.

I frowned, still not sure what to make of him. “Do I have a choice?”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he looked right at me. His eyes were hazel brown, flecked with green and framed with long, dark lashes.

“I don’t know why you’re fighting me on this princess,” he said gently. “All I’ve done so far is try and keep you safe.”

“And imprison me,” I added, but caught in his gaze I could feel the fight draining out of me.

He shook his head slightly and poured out a little of the bacta. This time, there was a strange, almost electric tingle at his touch. It was probably just nerves. Or fear. Or something else entirely. However, I could feel my entire body relaxing. I watched his fingers work again, trying to focus on that rather than the strange, slow flip my stomach was doing. The pattern of calluses on his hands reminded me of something, but I couldn’t quite work out what.

“There,” he said after a moment, interrupting my reverie. “By tomorrow the bruises should be gone.”

“What are you?” I asked, and then frowned at myself and the ridiculousness of the question.

Dax raised an eyebrow. “Pirate last time I checked.”

I shook my head slightly, feeling the heat rise in my face. “No, I don’t mean that, I mean you can fight, I’ve never seen someone move so fast, but you are also good with a med kit.” I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. “You don’t speak like the other pirates either, your accent is more refined than theirs.”

“Anything else?” Dax asked, but he was starting to look uncomfortable. “Do you normally take people apart like this?”

“Your hands,” I said, gently reaching out to take one. Dax jerked away slightly and then reluctantly let me turn his hands over. “The callous pattern isn’t from hard work… ”I frowned. “It’s the same pattern I get from when I practice fencing too much.” I looked up at him, but Dax was watching me through narrowed eyes. “I thought pirates used blasters.”

He said nothing, but something about him had changed again. I could see the muscles tightening across his shoulders, and into his jaw.

“What if that’s why you hate the Jedi?” I blurted out, half laughing at the absurdity. “You’re a failed Jedi and they kicked you out.”

He tensed. I froze, realising I’d gone too far. Dax pulled his hand out of my grasp. He opened his mouth, and I braced myself for the snide remark, but he shut it again with a snap. Returning the equipment to the little med kit, he stood. “I need to go, shift changes soon and I’ll be expected at my post. I have to make sure we’re ready for when we enter Hutt controlled space.”

“But you haven’t finished your meal,” I protested, suddenly finding that the idea of him leaving me alone in this place was unbearable. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” I started.

“Get some sleep, princess,” he suggested as he walked to the door, fastening his belt and adjusting the blaster holster. Any trace of his earlier gentleness or amusement was gone. He paused in the doorway. “I’ll make sure the door is locked so you’re not disturbed.”

Then he was gone, and I was left alone with my rapidly cooling meal and a strange sense of loss.

*

I don’t remember falling asleep. I had told myself that just lying down for five minutes wouldn’t do any harm. When I woke the room was quiet except for the hum of the engines.

I sat up slowly. Something had woken me.

Dax sat cross-legged in the far corner of the room, facing the door, lit only by the soft blue glow of a panel light above his head. His eyes were closed, face calm—serene in a way I’d never seen before. Not tense or teasing or guarded. Just… still.

I lay there, watching.

He wasn’t asleep. His breathing was too controlled, too measured. And something about the way he sat, hands resting on his knees, head bowed slightly—it didn’t look like rest. It looked like meditation.

And it didn’t fit.

Not with Dax’s general swagger. Not with him being a pirate.

But it did fit with what I’d accused him of earlier, and the thing that he’d dramatically reacted to - of being somehow connected to the Jedi.

I must have made some sound, because his eyes flicked open. Childishly I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I heard him get up and move around, and it sounded like he was getting ready for something.

A hand gently brushed my shoulder. “You need to get up, Bren.”

I started slightly at the touch as my brain grappled with the fact that it was the first time he hadn’t called me princess.

I blearily opened my eyes again. Dax’s brow was furrowed. The moment he noticed I was awake he moved away, fluid and fast as he strapped his blaster on.

I scrambled to my feet. My legs tangled in the blanket, and I nearly fell. “What’s going on?” I asked.

Dax shook his head and held up a hand to forestall my next question. For a second his lips moved, and I got the idea he was counting backwards. He looked up just as the lights overhead flared to full brightness, and a blaring alarm split through the cabin. There was the distant sound of an explosion, and the ship rolled slightly. I reached out to grab the wall and steady myself.

“We’re under attack,” he said, his tone clipped.

“Is it the Republic?” I asked, feeling a momentary glimmer of hope. Dax shook his head.

“Hutt space,” he said, by way of explanation. I saw the look of irritation that flashed over his face, but it seemed more at himself than at me. “My suggestion. I thought we could skim by unnoticed. I’m sorry Bren.”

The apology caught me by surprise.

“For what?”

“For putting you in danger.”

The ship rocked again. I stumbled, but Dax rolled with it as if was the most natural thing in the world.

“But not for kidnapping me, or anything else you’ve done in the last seventy-two hours?” I snapped back. I didn’t know why I was being quite so acerbic, but the constant changing between swaggering bully and polite gentlemen had left me spinning. The idea that I had to work with either of those personalities while under attack by Hutts was almost too much.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Dax said, “but for the moment I need you to stay here.”

“Like hell I will,” I said, reaching for my shoes. “I’m not going to be locked in a room when we get boarded by whomever the Hutts are paying. I’d rather take my chances with you.”

Dax raised an eyebrow, but before he could argue, the ship rocked violently.

With a shoe half on my foot, I had no chance to brace myself. I half staggered; half fell across the cabin towards the heavy chest of drawers. I could see the sharp edge of the wood, and instinctively threw my hands up to cover my face as I braced for the pain.

It never came.

Instead, a strange pressure wrapping around my body. I could still see the sharp edge, but I was no longer on a collision course with it. My feet weren’t even on the ground.

I took a deep breath and forced myself not to scream. A second later I could feel myself being gently lowered to the ground, as if carried by giant, invisible hands.

My knees collapsed underneath me, and I looked up, stunned.

Dax stood a few feet away, his expression frozen, his arms rigid at his sides—like he’d just done something he hadn’t meant to. Like he’d been caught.

My heart pounded loudly in my ears. “You-” I swallowed hard, staring at him. “You moved me.”

Dax exhaled sharply and dragged a hand down his face.

“Bren-”

I shook my head, not wanting to hear his excuse.

“No. That was—that wasn’t normal.” My mind raced, all my earlier suspicions that Dax wasn’t what he said he was, raised their heads again. “That wasn’t just reflexes. That wasn’t technology. That wasn’t luck. That was you.”

Dax’s jaw clenched. He looked… uneasy.

“Forget it,” he muttered, turning away.

“No,” I said, rising and grabbing his arm before I could stop myself. He didn’t pull away. “Tell me what you are.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, quietly, almost reluctantly, he said—

“A Jedi.”

My breath caught.

Dax pulled his arm free from her grasp, rubbing the back of his neck as if the weight of the admission had settled on his shoulders. “You should forget I said that.”

“How am I supposed to forget something like that?” I demanded, stepping closer. “You lied to me. You said you hated Jedi.”

“No, I’ve never lied to you,” Dax said, but I could still see how uncomfortable he felt. “I said the Jedi were why I was here. Which is true. It’s my mission.”

“I’m your mission?” I asked.

“No,” Dax shook his head. “Your presence here is a wrench in my plans. When I saw you on the ship, I recognised you instantly.” He shrugged. “And so, I had to protect you.”

I could see the flash of a comms unit going off in his pocket. Dax ran his hand over his face again. “And part of that protecting you means that you need to forget what I’ve just told you.”

“That you’re a Jedi,” I repeated, still not quite believing it. “A Jedi who is pretending to be a pirate.”

“Yes, that.” His voice was sharp now, but beneath the steel, I caught something else—something raw. “Forget it for both our sakes.”

The ship jolted again, and the warning sirens flared louder. The emergency lights bathed the small room in red, flashing ominously.

Dax turned to the door, already moving. “Stay here,” he ordered.

I let out a short, humourless laugh. “After what I just found out? No chance.”

He shook his head. “I can’t have you getting injured.”

“I’m not some delicate-” I started. He crossed the room in two quick strides, standing close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I found my eyes drawn to his mouth, watching the way his lips moved as he talked.

“I know,” he said, softly. “But when you’re around I struggle not to use my abilities to protect you. I’ve almost blown my cover twice and bent a bunch of rules of my order.”

“What happens to me though,” I asked. “If you get hurt.”

Dax’s smile was rueful. “I will make sure that doesn’t happen.” His comms unit buzzed again. “But for now I have to go.”

I nodded. “But later we’ll talk properly.”

He gave me the same rueful smile. “I promise, princess, that later we’ll talk properly-”

*

“Breha, my love.” A hand touched Breha’s arm and she started slightly. She looked up to see Bail watching her, his dark eyes full of concern. “I called your name a couple of times. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she managed, although her voice wobbled. She felt discombobulated as if she’d been pulled out midway through a dream. She shook her head slightly to get rid of the sensation that she could hear the distant blaring of ship distress signals. “I was just reading.”

“Master Dor’s story?” Bail asked. He sat down in the chair opposite her and peered at her mug of caff. “It’s still half-full.” He reached out to touch it. “And ice-cold.”

“It is a good story,” Breha said, feeling strangely defensive.

“The one about the pirate and the princess,” Bail asked. “The one that Master Dor would swear is not about his adventures with your mother.”

Breha nodded. “The very same.”

“And what have you discovered?”

Breha paused, thinking about the events of the story and the obvious but unspoken feelings between Bren and Dax. How anyone who had ever met her mother, Breniya, or Master Dor would instantly recognise them both. She thought about her wedding and Master Dor’s avoidance of her questions about her mother and his reaction when she’d spoken about love.

Eventually she looked up at Bail and smiled. “That there is a lot more to my mother’s life than even she told me.”

 

I remember these events being vaguely referenced at the wedding, so it's extremely exciting to get some context. Extremely Princess Bride-core. My vignette is from Skeleton Crew, so I've got pirates on the brain. Absolutely love this concept. Jedi infiltrating the underworld is my jam. Very interested to see where this goes, if there's ever a continuation story in some form.

 

I love how Breha gets to know more about her mother and Dax the Jedi who rescued her in a story from master Dor.
And congrats on finishing your KR with these entertaining stories

 

Marvelous embedded story full of Bren's defiance and startling conclusions about Dax.

 

Oh. Em. Gee. Did we finally get to read some of Davin's prose? After all the tantalising hints you've dropped in your stories, this was such a treat!

I loved all the little indications in the novel excerpt that "Dax" isn't quite what he seems – his gentlemanly manner, of course, but also his super-quick hand-to-hand combat reflexes, the fact that he knews whar "Bren" is thinking, the telltale tapping of his fingers as he mind-tricks the pirate captain into dropping the issue, the "like some sort of Jedi" comment... And then, of course, there was that awesome little bit of description of how handsome Dax is with his shirt off, because it wouldn't be a Davin novel without something like that

And "Bren" slowly works it out too! I loved that her clue were the calluses on Dax's hands, "like the ones I get from fencing" – but she hasn't figured out the whole story yet! It takes the attack by the Hutts and the rocking of the ship to get Dax to use the Force explicitly and break his cover, and wowzers! The hint that there might have been a romance between Princess Breniya and Master Dor turned out to be true after all! What a way for Breha to discover that "there was a lot more to [her] mother’s life than even she told [her]."

This was such a wonderful conclusion to your KR, and I'm still giddy for having read an honest chunk of Davin's prose. Congrats on completing the challenge in such a spectacular way!

 

Thank you! I was definitely going for that style and so I'm really glad it came through!

OooO! Is it good? That's next on my list of things to watch (I'm catching up for the last couple of years of not watching very much).

Hopefully one day there will be

Thank you so much for reading along with them and commenting - it's very much appreciated.

Yeah...it was fun to do it as a reveal and to get to that moment where everything is revealed.

You did! It was fun to write, even if a bit odd at times to be writing as if you are a character doing the writing (if that makes sense).

I love that you picked up on all of them! I didn't want it to be too obvious, but neither did I want it to fly under the radar so that when he finally used the Force people were like "huh? What?"

Yeah, that was odd to write. Imagine writing about yourself as being a hunk with your shirt off. I could see Tara rolling her eyes and going "Really Master?"

Definitely true, but eventually stopped not because they fell out of love - but because duty has to come first.

Thank you for reading and for all the lovely comments