Ahsoka sat frozen by the window, watching as the austere grey building, the most famous of those that housed the Onderon slave auctions, loomed up like a square mass of rock out of a sea of faces. Waves of buyers and simple window shoppers rippled around it, flowing leisurely between tents flying brightly colored flags from systems where slavery was legal – Zygerria, Rhea, Kessel, several of the Hutt worlds – and dozens more she didn't recognize. 

Those tents were the independent contractors, the ones who'd been deemed too new to the game or too unreliable or too lacking in affluence to gain a spot in the building itself. The true danger lay within, as Ahsoka knew only too well.

Still, she couldn't look away from the crowds, the tents, and the fenced-in holding areas where slaves huddle together, waiting to be sold. Every now and then the guards or a merchant would unlock a pen and drag a trembling creature out onto a podium to undergo inspection from a potential buyer. The airspeeder was near enough now that she could hear criers yapping their prices and fine quality.

They were moving too quickly to catch individual faces unless she squinted, but at a glance she could single out those who'd just been forced into slavery from those who were being sold for the second, third, fourth time. The new ones struggled against their chains as they were led into view. The older ones wore listless, vacant expressions. Repeated jolts of electricity spiking from their trackers directly into their spinal columns had drawn every last drop of defiance from their veins. She had one just like it that she could dimly sense buried in her chest if she went looking for it.

These were people who'd lost any and all hope that things could change, or who would soon have it taken away from them. To them, unspeakable horrors were commonplace, and torture a fact of everyday life.

As the airspeeder banked left and slowed to land on one of the platforms built into the side of the auction house, Ahsoka's eyes locked onto a flash of movement below. A Twi'lek male with pastel blue skin was putting up a fight.

The Zygerrian manning that particular booth barked something vile in his native tongue and drew an electro-whip as the Twi'lek reared back, writhing against the attendant hauling him out by the arm and the other who had a hold on the chain around his neck. He was young, definitely not fully grown, but strong enough to give them trouble until the whip cracked, and golden sparks slithered over his body. Then, bleeding from the burn and barely coherent, he was pulled to the nearest podium and chained to the pole at its center.

And whipped again while the waiting crowd began bidding.

Ahsoka's fingers dug into the curtain still clenched between them, to the point that even with their careful trimming her sturdy Togruta claws were in danger of tearing the fabric. She wanted to shut her eyes, or look away, but it was like she was in a dream or a memory. Her control was gone. There was only the smell of singed flesh in her nostrils, the electric heat of the whip on her back, and the Force roiling in pain just beyond her collapsing mental barriers–

"Good afternoon! How are you all doing today?"

A raucous cheer echoed in the colorless grey stadium as hundreds of sentients voiced their excitement.

"Great, that's just great! All right! Ladies and gentlemen and variations thereupon, have we ever got a show for you today!" The auctioneer laughed, and flashed a brilliant, totally artificial smile at his audience. "She's a rare beauty, this one. Togruta by nature, but be careful – she's traitorous by nurture, allied to a corrupt order rather than her own people."

The crowd rippled with murmurs of curiosity.

"After the rise of our glorious Empire from the ashes of the dying Republic, she resorted to terrorism and fought against progress and the galaxy's will to change. But change cannot be overpowered; change itself overpowers! Honored guests, please welcome once Jedi traitor, now the picture of harmlessness and an asset to the Galactic Empire's might: Ahsoka Tano!"

The curtain was yanked shut beneath her. She looked into Lux's eyes, and the whoops and cheers of the crowd thirsting for her blood began to recede.

"Breathe," Lux whispered. He pried her hand off the curtain and took it in both of his, rubbing his fingers over her knuckles and palm. "Breathe, Alynna. Focus on me – on the sound of my voice, on the warmth of my hands. You're safe."

Ahsoka shook her head. The pastel green corset she'd been dressed in that morning felt ten times tighter than it already was, and she couldn't breathe. She could barely even think through the flaming pain in the scars she bore just like those that poor Twi'lek boy would carry for the rest of his life, through the remembered pressure of Jek's hand on her hip...

"Breathe," Lux urged, and his voice was the same low and soothing tone Rex and Anakin and her men had used when the atrocities of the battlefield had gotten to be too much. He took a long breath and held it for a few seconds, then exhaled it. "Follow my lead, all right? Breathe with me. In and out."

He let go of her hand with one of his to take her other one, pressing it to his abdomen so she could feel the slow rise and fall there. She was getting lightheaded, and the rich feeling of air flowing into his lungs under her fingertips was enough to send her strained respiratory system stuttering into motion.

Lux smiled tentatively, rubbing his fingers in time with the breaths they took. Ahsoka shut her eyes, grounding herself in the fabric of his shirt warmed by his body and the soft way he stroked her hand until everything else had faded away.

"Better?" he asked. At her nod of assent, he gave a satisfied hum.

"Yes. Thank you." At last she opened her eyes to find his face. The unabashed affection there made her montrals and lekku flush. "Where did you learn that?" she asked, hopefully before he noticed it.

"Some friends in the Rebellion taught me."

Ahsoka knew he didn't mean the same rebellion she'd been a part of, but she feigned surprise anyway. Free of the paralyzing flashback, her mind had quickly set itself to calculating new ways to gain more information. A small risk on her part would allow her to gauge his reaction, and perhaps learn where his sympathies lay. "You're part of the Rebellion against the Empire?"

Lux's eyes widened. "Oh, no! No, I meant the Rebellion against King Rash and the Confederate thugs backing his rule," he explained. "That was months before the Empire was even founded. Dono, one of my comrades, was a psychology major. She taught the rest of us grounding exercises in case we were ever in a bad spot and needed to get a frozen comrade moving again. Repetitive instructions, focus on one's breath, physical contact..."

He trailed off, his expression falling.

Ahsoka winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring back memories."

Lux smiled lightly. "It takes a special sort of person to come out of a panic attack and sympathize with how I'm feeling." His gaze grew softer then, his mouth pressed down into an apologetic line. "Alynna, I am so, so sorry. I shouldn't have brought you here. If I'd had any idea, I'd never have–"

"I know," she said, and was surprised to find she believed it. She should've known the timing was too close to the start of Auction Week to be a coincidence, especially since the request for their presence had come from the Lord Imperator himself. No amount of positive propaganda could undercut his reputation.

They both looked up when the airspeeder slowed to a halt. The rumble of the engines broke off, and the hum of the antigrav rose as power was shunted there to compensate. They were beginning the landing cycle.

"I'll tell the pilot to head back to the palace once I'm out," Lux said quietly, but with a fire that shocked her. "I won't bring you into an environment that reminds you of past trauma when you had no say in it. I refuse to. My father can go to hell with his talk of appearances and public image."

Ahsoka opened her mouth to say yes, eager to take the out he was giving her. The memories of Lux's fear of his father's retribution from the training arena, his genuine if poorly worded comments about feeling like his father's servant, made her hold her tongue. Was he truly willing to risk so much for her, without thanks, and knowing he would only be reprimanded for it?

Yes, she thought, recognizing the steely look in his eyes. He's serious about this. It barely matters that I'm technically in his debt for snapping me out of it before. He's not going to give up.

It had been a long time since Ahsoka had seen that kind of loyalty in anyone – the kind of loyalty that made her feel brave and powerful despite everything – and longer still since she had been so sorely tempted to return it.

"No," she found herself saying. "I'll stay with you."

She silently cursed her foolishness half a second later, forcing any thought of the warm feeling blossoming inside of her to the back of her mind. Indulgence such as this would have been forgivable two years ago, but here, in the middle of enemy territory, where her closest companion technically owned her?

Choosing to stay would cost her an opportunity to map more of Noreino House, or hack Lux's computer terminal, or find some tools to hide away until the opportune moment came to remove her slave tracker. She could not waver from her mission simply because a clever, pretty boy was being nice to her.

But perhaps there was a way to access Imperial records in the auction house and find out if Anakin had been sold into slavery, as she herself had been.

The ray shield protecting them went down. Ahsoka allowed Lux to help her out of the airspeeder again, noting his lingering wary glances in the direction of the plaza and the outdoor market. He bundled her past a group of guards in Noreino livery and storm troopers toward the building before she could ask what – if anything – had drawn his attention.

Zakhan Noreino stepped out of the shadows, flanked by four guards and a small following of bureaucrats and lesser nobles. She'd only seen him up close once before, upon her arrival at the palace. Between his exceptional height (for a Human, at least), the powerful set of his shoulders, his sharply tailored clothing, and the dark scowl he wore beneath his beard, that did little to dispel his physical presence.

Lux gave a shallow bow and Ahsoka a deeper one. It was what was expected of her, and it made it easier to hide the look of disgust that was creeping onto her face. This man had once been hailed as a hero for his people. In recent years, though, he'd been responsible for laws revoking citizenship rights from recent immigrants and conscripting them to work forces – the first step toward making slavery legal on Onderon. The planet had once held as virtuous a reputation as Alderaan or Naboo, but no longer. Zakhan was the cause of so much pain and suffering, including, indirectly, her own. Ahsoka couldn't help thinking how easy it would be just to reach out with the Force, and grab his neck in a grip that could never be broken...

She held back. She needed the Lord Imperator alive, for now. Lux had a high level of clearance, but even he wasn't privy to information as sensitive as the whereabouts of former Jedi. Lux was her way in with the real prize: Zakhan.

Father and son exchanged cordial greetings, but there was a false sense of warmth in Zakhan's dark brown eyes that was mirrored in Lux's lighter ones. It was commendable acting, roles within roles in a deadly theatre piece that Ahsoka could barely follow. How much was said between them in the stiffness of one's posture, the way the other raised a brow in return? Padmé surely would've known, but thinking of friends long gone wouldn't help her now. She had to stay focused.

The party headed inside, and Ahsoka walked at their heels with a carefully demureness. At a wave of Zakhan's hand the gaggle of favor-seekers retreated, and the guards went back to watch at the exit. He, Lux, and Ahsoka continued on to the Noreinos' private box overlooking a large atrium.

Why don't they stay here to protect their lord and his son? she wondered. The telltale whine of another ray shield – low and heavy like a military-grade unit, she realized – flickering to life around the three exposed sides of the box as Lux and Zakhan took their seats was her answer. Looking out the front, she could just barely see it distorting the glow of the midday sun from the stained glass ceiling.

A flicker of motion between Lux and Zakhan caught her eye. A thin rod with a circular bit of tech at its head had risen from a decorative panel in the floor. Ahsoka frowned, trying to discern its purpose – some kind of bidding console, perhaps? – for a long moment before it lit up, revealing a holo-recorder at its center. By then, it was too late to duck away to the liquor cabinet and fruit trays at the back of the gilded compartment and pretend she'd been fetching refreshments.

Ahsoka closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer into the Force no one who'd remember her from Republic war propaganda was within the console's broadcast range. Her cover was secure only as long as no one realized the woman who called herself Alynna Taari had the same face as Ahsoka Tano, the Jedi traitor and war criminal who'd 'disappeared' six months into her Imperial life sentence to slavery.

"My friends," Zakhan said. His full, commanding voice caught in a hidden microphone and loudened tenfold; instantly the rumble of the crowd fell away. Ahsoka tensed, readying her whole body to flee, and carefully blinked an eye open.

An enormous hologram appeared in the space before them, no doubt being projected from a spot at ground level several floors down. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized only Zakhan was in it.

With the hologram, she could see exactly how wolfish the Imperator's smile was as he continued speaking, even though she stood several paces behind him. "I thank you all for joining us. Today, we bring you remarkable specimens from the furthermost corners of the galaxy, of whatever shape and size you desire."

The crowed roared its approval.

"The Imperial Confederacy's reach is great, and through it, so too is our access to new sources of merchandise. We are all proud to be a part of its grand design, but that doesn't mean we can't indulge in... the simpler pleasures in life."

Ahsoka growled deep in her throat. The sound was lost in cheers. Fear had thrown a mound of ash over the tiny mote of anger burning at her center, but at Zakhan's words, it flickered to life again, and Ahsoka dug her nails into her palms. Despite her shields, the Force curled around her hands like a fine mist, begging to be used to silence his vile speech. If she had to stand here and listen to this drivel for who knew how long, her restraint would quickly wear thin.

She'd only known him for a week, but surely Lux would do better things with the status and wealth of a Great House than his father was doing now. And if he as Heir-Designate inherited management of all his father's affairs upon his death...

"For three years I have served this great people, and watched it rise through the ranks of the righteous Confederacy and now those of our glorious Empire," he continued. It was so chillingly close to the introduction the auctioneer had given her months before that her chest felt tight again. "We have swept aside the unworthy. We have built a new way of life. May we carry on profiting by our strengths and using them to suppress those who dare stand in our way. Long live the Empire."

The crowd murmured in hesitation before applauding. Zakhan's digression from base entertainment into tenuous Imperial morality hadn't been expected, nor had it been entirely agreed with, if Ahsoka was reading it right. She filed that away for later with the small part of her that wasn't imagining pushing Zakhan aside and screaming into the holo-recorder that he was a liar and a bigot. Force-feeding people your opinion was no better than Imperial propaganda – even when you were right.

But even propaganda had to come from somewhere, contain some minute drops of the truth – or at least the facts that were accepted by the majority – to make bitter medicine sweet enough to swallow. Even if Anakin's name was reduced to one of billions in a database somewhere, every new being involuntarily brought into the Empire's servitude was enough of a point of pride for slavers to document. Ahsoka doubted Anakin had been sold in this very building, but it was the largest auction house on the planet. Hopefully the Kyzeron Royal Auction House was keeping tabs on what its competitors in other systems were up to as well.

Ahsoka crossed her arms. Despite the muggy weather, she suddenly felt cold. It was so easy to remove herself from the whole equation, thinking about it in terms like those: competitors moving merchandise and recording the gain every act of buying or selling brought them. Anakin was more than that – so much more – and he'd already spent so many years in chains.

Finding him in Imperial records would be a relief, but if he'd been thrown right back into the life he'd been so lucky to escape all over again, it would break her heart; what would she do if she found out something even worse had befallen him? In those last moments before she'd been stunned and taken prisoner, Anakin had promised he would always protect her. She'd held onto that with an urgency her younger self would have scoffed at, regardless of the fact that his body had betrayed every sign of death, but she knew now he wasn't all-powerful. No one was.

The applause died down and the hologram disappeared. A voice like a news feed anchor's – belonging to today's auctioneer, she assumed – spoke up, thanking the Imperator for his wise words. She was too far back in the box to make out the person's face on the floor of the arena below, but that of the Falleen man who'd sold her that first night on Onderon eleven months ago was an easy substitute.

"And thank you, most honored guests," the auctioneer continued, "for coming 'round to take a look at all the pretty toys we have for you today. And, well, I know the general rule is to save the best for last, but..."

They paused for effect. A murmur of anticipation ran through the audience. Ahsoka rolled her eyes and pretended her stomach wasn't turning so much.

"Well, today's best really is the best, so we're going to get to that right away!"

Ahsoka bit her lip as the crowd cheered again. The 'main event' of each day of an Auction Week was usually a being from a species whose scarcity or biological attributes were thought rare and valuable. Her heart went out to whichever poor soul was being showcased today. She'd been the main event here, too.

"She's like a ghost from the past," the auctioneer began softly, and Ahsoka didn't need the Force to know the crowd hanging off their every word. "She walks amongst us, but make no mistake; she isn't one of us. Her people tried to fight against the Empire, too blind to realized going against such a powerful adversary is pointless! But trust me, she paid the price of not knowing true power when she sees it in full, and today, she will bow down to whoever is brave enough to take her."

Ahsoka tensed. Anakin didn't identify as female, and to her knowledge he'd never been inclined to. Still, the fear she'd felt watching him and Obi-Wan in the same position on Zygerria, and the anger that had torn through her like a whirlwind at the thought of not being able to help, came back to her so easily now.

She'd already had a difficult day between the flashbacks and memories and confusion with Lux. She didn't want to watch someone else suffer as she had when there was nothing she could do about. If Lux was as good as his word after all his fervent claims in the speeder, he would cover for her.

She left the box quietly and breezed past the guards before they could ask her what she was doing away from her master's side. Unfortunately, there was no way to get to the ornate door she'd arrived through or the smaller one off to one side in time to surprise the rest of them and use the same tactic again. Sure enough, the pairs of guards stationed at both doors all raised their quarterstaffs as she approached – and though they weren't as showy as the electrostaffs used by the Empire and the Separatists before it, the sharp whine they gave off told Ahsoka they'd pack just as much of a punch.

All I wanted was somewhere to get a breather, she thought, rolling her eyes. Berating one's enemy had been a great way to diffuse the tension within herself and keep her anger from rising during the Clone Wars, but it didn't quite work as well now. Okay, and maybe access to that other door to see if there's a way to get down to the records, but that's not anything you guys need to know.

She dipped into the Force so slowly and carefully her own presence would barely ripple it, and sighed around a shiver when it came back cold and disjointed with Elite auras. Releasing her emotions now would bring the whole group of them bearing down on her like rathtars in a killing frenzy.

"So," she muttered, "I can go back and watch the show, risk it all for intel that may or may not even be through that door, or I can sit here and stew. Great."

She chose to stew. No point in throwing her life away on a whim. There was a little square alcove in the wall – as ornate as this place got outside the private boxes, apparently – well suited to it right beside her. She made herself comfortable inside, squeezed her eyes shut tight, and, using her anger as fuel, dove back into her little daydream of her and her loved ones wandering beneath that breathtaking open sky.

It was almost perfect, almost enough to put the strains of the auctioneer's voice from the atrium beyond out of her mind. She could stay here for a moment or two, just as long as it took to find her center again and remember her purpose here.

Then Lux's boots scuffed over the charcoal tile, pausing at the door out into the box before making their way over, and Ahsoka's little oasis dried up. The anger flowing beneath rose to fill the emptied watering hole in an instant.

Zakhan's laughter boomed from the private box as the auctioneer made a crude joke. She nearly snapped out with the Force then and there. Instead, she turned to the safer target, all past warmth was forgotten in the face of such anger.

"Whoever it is out there, you should be helping them," she said, stepping out of the alcove and into view. "They're innocent beings. You're the heir to a family that will probably be ruling them in a few years, and you're just watching them suffer!"

"Will you keep it down?" Lux hissed, shooting a worried glance back at the guards. The two she could see – the ones by the door into the box – were watching them curiously. She was vaguely surprised to find she didn't care.

She paced a few steps, then stopped, staring back at him with eyes that felt strangely hot. "I can't help it!" she said in a snarl. "I was once that girl down in the arena, and I was once that Twi'lek boy outside. I've been in the pens with the rest of them, with no option left but to pray for mercy even though I know none is coming!"

Lux took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was level. How could he be so calm? Ahsoka felt like she could erupt in flames at a moment's notice. "That's not fair. I know I've made mistakes, but I'm still doing my best to help you! I've been merciful, Alynna. I've been as good to you as I can, even if I can't help that we're stuck with each other. That's how I was raised, and I know there are others who were taught the same."

Ahsoka barked out a laugh. All the good people were gone, now. "That's cute."

Another calming breath, this one more tense than the last. "Excuse me?"

"It's a cruel, cruel galaxy out there. You think you're trying to help, but people like you and your father are the ones that did this to me; that did this to all of us."

"I am not my father," Lux gritted out, his palms clenched into fists at his sides.

"Well, bystanders aren't innocent, either." Ahsoka held her arms out in a wide gesture to the featureless grey stone around her. "I sincerely hope you can sleep at night, when this is happening all around you and you're doing nothing about it."

"I can't, damn you! That's why I'm–" Lux broke off abruptly. When he spoke again, the end of the sentence left his mouth in an awkward jumble. "Why I'm out here talking to you and not inside. Which is where we need to be going, now, or we'll both be in serious trouble."

" 'We'?" she echoed with a snort. "The Imperator wouldn't harm his heir."

"That's not how it works," Lux hissed. "The rules are completely different here from what you know, okay? I may be the favorite son, but that doesn't mean I'm off the hook – hell, nothing could be further from the truth! The second I step over a line – and maybe not even one I knew about in the first place – that same whip the auctioneer is using right now will come down on me. I do my best to help people, but you have to understand there's only so much even I can do."

She almost accused him of speaking that way just to save his own skin. Almost. But the cornered-animal look in his eyes, the way he kept shooting glances back to the door into the box and the guards nearby, stopped her.

Or rather, stopped her a few seconds longer than it would have otherwise. She let her anger rise to the surface again, let it fuel her. She didn't want to be kind and forgiving right now. If she did, she would break down again, and how could she be of any use to anyone when she was so weak?

"Then maybe, Master," she spat, "you need to learn how to be brave."

Lux exhaled tersely, pinching the bridge of his nose in his hands. "Fine," he said finally. "Stay out here if that's what you want, but don't cause any trouble."

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes. "Or what?"

He didn't answer that. Instead, he turned and left, his gentle grey-green eyes swimming with conflict.

Ahsoka stood defiantly in place a moment longer before following him. There was nothing she could do out here without using the Force, and even if it pained her to look on as someone was made a spectacle of, at least they'd have someone there who supported them. They wouldn't be another faceless stranger suffering before the masses. She took a spot beside the two gilded seats where she could see clearly.

Immediately she wished she hadn't. Suddenly she was so badly torn between the impulse to leap out the front of the box – ray shield or no ray shield – and go on the offensive and the impulse to flee she could only look on in horror.

The main event of the auction wasn't a stranger – far from it. There, straining against the chains that bound her to a stake in the center of the arena, was her old friend Barriss Offee.

Ahsoka is doing her best to keep her emotions in check, but she's hanging on by a thread – and the way she and Lux are at odds about who they are and who they're supposed to be isn't helping. Now that she's learned one of her fellow Jedi is alive but in great peril, will she be forced to make a choice between saving Anakin or Barriss? Lux stands on unstable ground, and he may falter before he can help. But will she choose to trust him with the knowledge of who she really is if it means saving both? Only time will tell...

CONTEXT TIME! A few authors' notes ago I mentioned the end of the Clone Wars happened differently on the timeline where this story takes place. For reasons that will be explained in future chapters, the Battle of Coruscant happened about eight months early. 

If my estimates are right, that's right when Ahsoka would have been framed for bombing the hangar of the Jedi Temple. If Barriss had questionable intentions, they didn't have time to manifest – or at least didn't manifest in the same way. After all she was at the Battle of Felucia in the prologue, and she was with the remnants of the GAR.

I guess we'll have to wait and see exactly how that turned out on Barriss' end. Plot-wise, there are other equally pressing concerns for Ahsoka and Lux to sort out. 

For the auction house, I took a lot of cues from media representations of ancient Roman markets and gladiator arenas – as well as the works of Storm-Shadows7. She's always handled the theme of slavery in Star Wars so well, and been a big inspiration to me.