Lux's homecoming was about as happy as Ahsoka expected it to be.

The landing pad their airspeeder had left that sunny afternoon before the auction felt smaller, less open, now that it was crowded with guards, servants, and solemn Onderonian nobility. Ahsoka felt a pang of longing for the villa as the ship Lux's father had sent them touched down, but she didn't give herself the luxury of hanging back as Lux took her hand and helped her down the exit ramp.

She was surprised to see Lady Chrysilika standing alongside the Imperator, her two young children tucked under each arm. Her hair hung over her shoulders in long locks that glittered like flames in the sun – and the way they arced off to the sides of her body, framing her pregnant belly, drew Ahsoka's notice immediately.

Padmé's old lessons in the language of dress sense prickled at the back of Ahsoka's mind, furtive and vague. Without secondary insight from the Force, sifting through her memories for the key to decipher this presentation was beyond her.

Ahsoka gritted her teeth. She'd only been away a month, but it was amazing how natural it had become to use her non-corporeal senses whenever she needed them. Cutting herself off now felt like her first brutal months in chains all over again.

Beside her, Lux took a deep breath. Recognizing the tense way he held her hand as a subtle display of nerves, she rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a thankful smile touching his lips, then withdrew to greet his father. She followed at a respectful distance.

Lux's little half-siblings strained against their mother's arms, trying to get to him, but a warning look from their father stilled them. By the time Lux had crossed the platform, they were perfectly – if a little sullenly – composed.

Lux flashed the pair a grin before bowing once to his father, a shallow, practiced thing that conveyed more with its gracefulness than it did with its depth. He bowed more deeply to Lady Chrysilika, though, and Ahsoka smiled. The stately redheaded Human woman was something of a recluse, and it was rare to see her and her husband in the same place. It was good to see someone giving her proper respect; most of the time, Ahsoka honestly forgot Zakhan Noreino was married.

"Son," Zakhan said as Lux straightened, his voice low and expressionless.

"Father," Lux replied calmly. He crossed his arms behind his back so that only Ahsoka would see how tightly his hands were balled up into fists. "I put the finishing touches on my report on my way here. I'll have it sent to your–"

"Later," Zakhan said, waving his hand dismissively. "We must talk business."

"Business?" Lux echoed.

With barely a nod to his wife and two younger children, Zakhan stalked off, motioning for Lux to follow. Lux reached back to take Ahsoka's hand with a strained smile, and together they jogged to catch up.

Zakhan turned around again before Lux could drag her very far. "Leave that behind for now, Aluxsidrian. A lowborn slave is of no import at the moment."

Lux shifted her hand in his and kissed it with smiling lips, his gallantry an act of quiet defiance. As if Ahsoka wouldn't notice how tight it pulled his face to beam at her through the tension, and that it didn't erase the creases in his brow. As if she didn't know him well enough by now to see right through it.

"Go on," she whispered. "I'll meet you back at our rooms."

His fake smile bled into a real one. " 'Our' rooms?"

"Hush. Go."

Lux kissed her hand again petulantly, reluctant to part from her. Her lekku flaming, she put a hand on his chest and pushed him gently after his father. She was sorry to see him go, but it was for the best. His every touch transported back to the night before, something she was still struggling to process.

"Lux has changed in this last month," Lady Chrysilika said suddenly.

Remembering her manners, Ahsoka turned to her and bowed. "My lady?"

"There's no need for that... Alynna, is it?" Lady Chrysilika got slowly to her knees, mindful of her belly, to kiss each of the twins on the forehead. She nodded to a pair of women behind her – two of the children's caretakers, Ahsoka assumed –then held out a hand to Ahsoka.

Realizing she was expected to take it, Ahsoka helped Lady Chrysilika to her feet and tried to mimic the interlinking of arms Lux did with her when they were out walking. The hold felt awkward when she initiated it, but if Ahsoka was doing it wrong, the tall noblewoman didn't correct her.

"You were only here a week before that horrible incident at the auction, but I think it's high time we got acquainted," Lady Chrysilika said as they started walking.

"I don't see why, my lady." Ahsoka winced at her abruptness, and added, "I mean, I'm only a slave. I'm far beneath your notice."

"Oh, I think not. Lux's head is turned."

Ahsoka flushed again, but she was quicker to calm herself, this time. It wasn't Lady Chrysilika's fault she'd gotten it wrong. Sure, Lux had kissed her late last night, and she'd kissed him back, but she'd put herself in the line of fire. Even if her yearly fertile period was still at least two months away, she was only eighteen – young enough still that her physical impulses wouldn't always follow the defined schedules of more mature adults. She understood the chemistry of lowered inhibitions and a willing friend in theory, but she'd miscalculated the explosive yield of the reaction.

And it went far beyond anything she'd ever imagined.

"I... wasn't under the impression you were close enough to make that kind of assumption about him, my lady," Ahsoka said at last. "He doesn't speak of you often."

But Lady Chrysilika also called him Lux instead of Aluxsidrian – something Zakhan had apparently discouraged, even with how much Lux loathed his full name. She cared about Lux's preferences more than his own father did, and in Ahsoka's book, that was a big point in her favor.

The redhead laughed lightly. "Oh, no one really does. I prefer to keep to myself, and to my children. But I've known Lux seven or eight years, now."

"Really." Ahsoka couldn't help raising a doubtful eyebrow. "The rumors..."

"Daring of you to bring that up." Lady Chrysilika smiled as Ahsoka opened her mouth. "Oh, don't apologize. Daringness is a good quality, even if I myself don't share it. The Great Houses have grown conservative in the last few years, and they think marriage is very black-and-white. It's seen as a pact to forge allegiances, to increase wealth – and non-monogamy can threaten the validity of that pact.

"Yes, Alynna, I was Zakhan's lover while Mina Bonteri lived – but she had lovers, too. They were polyamorous, to use the more common jargon, and they were each other's primary partners. Lux knew me well, but he wasn't fully comfortable with me – or any of the others – so we agreed to keep him out of it."

Ahsoka frowned. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"I merely wanted to caution you that he's been of marrying age for four years already, and his father will want him to begin courting suitable nobles soon."

"He's only twenty!"

"Which is more than old enough, as tradition would have it. Lux doesn't seem keen on devoting himself to more than a single partner, but the necessity of making a strong alliance with another House and producing legitimate heirs may compel him to marry, as it did his father." Lady Chrysilika put her free hand over her baby bump. "I fell pregnant shortly before he left for Aargonar, and I had two healthy children waiting for him when he returned. Marrying me, and making the children legitimate in the eyes of the nobility, was the logical course."

Lady Chrysilika spoke in a knowing monotone that reminded Ahsoka of her teachers' lectures as a youngling in the Temple. Unfortunately, while the cadence and detail said a lot about her intentions, Ahsoka had no idea what to make of the noblewoman's words. "And... you think I could be a threat to that?" she tried finally.

"Lux is too good-hearted to keep you bound to him if you don't wish to be. But if you want to keep him all to yourself, the competition will be cutthroat."

"He's more than just a prize to be won!"

Lady Chrysilika raised an eyebrow.

Ahsoka pulled away and took a breath, imagining her anger as a wild expanse she was slowly paved over with a steady, artificial calmness. "Besides, I would never presume. Thank you for your counsel, my lady, but I think you misunderstand."

"Perhaps. Regardless, I care about Lux – perhaps more than I have a right to, when he's never seen me as a parent – and I can tell you're a source of happiness for him. If you're to be put in a similar position to the one I inhabited with his mother and father, for both your sakes, you deserve to know what you're getting into."

With a last secretive smile, Lady Chrysilika strolled off down the hallway, her hands folded loosely beneath her breasts to caress her rounded belly. It was only once she'd rounded the corner that Ahsoka realized it was a look one gave to a respected equal, not to an uncomprehending subordinate.

Her head spinning, Ahsoka sped down the hallway in the opposite direction. But instead of making the turn to get back to Lux's rooms, she took the steps down to the corridor near the Great Hall. Veering away from the small servant's stairwell to the kitchens and the ornate doorway into Zakhan's cavernous audience chamber, she made a beeline for the slave quarters.

As it was with the homes of many wealthy slave owners, the quarters were kept apart in reams of cramped passageways with low ceilings, crowded with plush silks and the occasional art object. These hallways were always kept dark enough to feel secluded – but not so much that it was difficult to find one's way to through.

Once they reached the wide vestibule beyond, callers could have any number of pleasure slaves brought out to them for a tryst elsewhere in the palace, or use the handful of plush rooms that were at their disposal – for a steeper price, of course. Ahsoka shivered as she passed these, ignoring the sly, appraising eyes of Zakhan's guests. Many of them already had a dull-eyed slave or two on their arm.

Her chest felt tight beneath her silky top. Invisible fingers squeezed at her lungs in an ominous echo of her panic attack above the auction house, and Lux wasn't here to calm her this time. She pushed it away before her history in rooms like these could snake down to her diaphragm, merciless fangs digging in and stunting her breathing as the poison spread.

"The mission," she whispered to herself, hurrying past the watchful eyes of the guards and administrator droid and wandering guests. She was almost through. "Focus on the mission. Focus on building your network."

She shot through the door and pressed her back to it as it closed, grounding herself in the rough slide of the metal against her skin. The slave quarters – six large rooms that surrounded a communal bathroom – were as depressing as ever, but as she studied the familiar bedrolls and meager possessions, she began to calm down.

Places like these, Ahsoka knew. And that familiarity brought strength. She set off at a fast, confident clip, and soon reached the meeting place she'd arranged the day before: the cramped corner Kuro shared with the rest of his cleaning crew, separated from the other sleeping pallets by a ratty curtain.

He was waiting for her, which was a good sign in and of itself; Ahsoka had worried he might be too scared to show up, in the end. Ashalla's cousin was a strong Twi'lek man in his late twenties, tall and well built, but even in an empty room he only ever stood with his shoulders slouched and his arms crossed. It was his way of looking smaller – making himself less of a target.

Kuro glanced up when she approached, and the look in his eyes flashed from dismal to hopeful in a heartbeat. They'd only lived under the same roof for a day before her last master sold him, but he definitely recognized her. That was also a good sign; now she didn't have to waste time proving her identity.

He darted forward, then hesitated a few paces away, shifting his weight from foot to foot. A healthy dose of fear tempered the brightness in his eyes when he spoke, and his words were harsh and quick. "This is a huge risk, Alynna. If the crew leader double-checks the rotation and realizes I switched shifts with Rinesh–"

Ahsoka took him by the shoulders, and held on even when he flinched back on reflex. "Don't think about that. I'm here, now, Kuro, and I can protect you."

Kuro relaxed at that. "Yes... yes, I have to remember who I'm talking to. You helped save Ryloth with the other J–"

"Not here," Ahsoka hissed. "Let me make something clear, right now. For all of our protection, I'll never confirm any of what you and Ashalla suspect. If ever you come a little close to an Elite storm trooper gifted enough to sense your thoughts, we can't give the Empire proof to convict you as rebel sympathizers."

"They will still try." Kuro shrank down on himself again, his lekku twitching in an odd, erratic pattern – something Ahsoka had learned from Ashalla conveyed sadness or despair. "I'm a slave. I have no rights."

"Which is why we'll be quick, to make sure your crew leader doesn't suspect anything," she said patiently. Kuro's trauma often made him swing from flighty to depressed, desperate to save his skin one moment and certain getting flayed was inevitable the next. She had to work around that, keep him on track.

"Right," he said.

"When I commed yesterday, I asked about potential allies here in the city – people with resources and established networks. You told me about the... Amah..."

"Amavikkas. They're a group from Tatooine – escaped slaves or descendants of slaves, mostly," Kuro supplied. "I know not how many of them are in Kyzeron, but the rumors say Onderon was once a safe harbor for others like them, fleeing the Hutt Worlds and the Zygerrian colonies. Now that Onderon is going down the same path, they've turned their efforts to helping people here escape, too."

Tatooine. Anakin's homeworld.

Ahsoka knew precious little about the planet save that it was dusty, gritty – the people and the weather both – and a place where Anakin had suffered much. She suspected a lot of his darkness originated there, years of frustration with his bleak circumstances and his inability to change them the perfect conditions for his anger and bitterness to fester.

She didn't know the particulars of how he escaped it – only that he'd been freed by Obi-Wan's teacher, Qui-Gon Jinn, while a ship carrying Padmé Amidala had stopped there for repairs. In fact, Ahsoka had been inclined to believe it was an isolated incident motivated by Jedi compassion and Padmé's dedication to social justice. Knowing others from Tatooine were still trying to help gave her hope.

"Can you get me their comm code?" Ahsoka said, pulling herself back to the present. If she wanted to keep Kuro on track, she had to be on track, too.

Kuro looked uncertain, but he managed a smile. "I think I can."

"I hate to ask this of you when I have no way of paying you back, Kuro, but being so close to the Imperator's son isolates me from the grapevine. I've had the cooks exclude me from conversations before because they thought I was his spy."

"The cooks think everyone is a spy," Kuro said, waving a hand. "Even me, because I clean their floors and the floors in the Noreino family wing. Perhaps they should gossip less and worry more about their work, if they're so afraid, hmm?"

Ahsoka huffed a laugh. "Probably." She counted back the minutes they'd been speaking, and winced. She'd lingered here too long already. "Thanks again for your help. I'll check in the day after tomorrow. Give Ashalla my best, if you speak to her."

"I will. Her baby is healthy, and they are both safer than they would have been otherwise, thanks to your help. Her only worries now are for you."

"For me? But I–"

"You can handle yourself, we know. But you've given her hope." Kuro rubbed the back of his neck. He looked embarrassed to be caught feeling something other than fear or despair. "You've given us both hope. You're too important to lose, now."

"I don't think I've given you anything," Ahsoka said. "All I'm trying to do is help people remember what they already have, so they can share it with others."

Kuro smiled like he didn't entirely believe her before parting the curtain and scurrying away. She couldn't be entirely sure without the Force to guide her, but it seemed to her that he moved with a little more confidence than he had before their talk. Like a free person, and not a furtive slave running to do his master's bidding.

Ahsoka grinned despite herself as she watched him go. This was the first step toward broadening her network of contacts here in the Kyzeron. While the city was still as oppressive as it had been a month ago, things were definitely looking up.

The walk to his father's office was painfully quiet, but Lux didn't dare break the silence with small talk. Disapproval hung over Zakhan Noreino like a thundering storm cloud, and for all his other failings, Lux was smart enough not to go strolling beneath it with a lightning rod in hand.

He let a long breath out through his nose, the closest thing he could get to a sigh without making the cloud's purple-greys deepen to black. He'd been in Kyzeron less than ten minutes, and already he was back under his father's thumb – a tame politician who cowed before a greater opponent instead of fighting back.

Lux shook himself. He wasn't going to let himself wallow in hopelessness and frustration anymore. As Alynna had taught him to do, he focused on his breathing, on his awareness of his body, and looked for things to draw confidence from.

He was stronger than he'd been when last he had walked these halls. After a month of intensive training, his muscles reacted in an instant when he flexed them. But more than that, his mind felt stronger, more awake. That was a vital advantage. Even once he perfected Alynna's teachings, his mind would always be the sharpest weapon at his disposal.

Zakhan scanned his palm on the control panel and entered the office, Lux following behind. The room narrowly avoided looking like a tasteless knockoff of Unifar Temple with somber mahogany furnishings and a darker variation on the red-green-gold color scheme of royalty. The windows were shaded against the morning sun, and the lights were dim enough Lux worried he might hit something.

There, at least, was a glimpse of Lux's life before the war. Zakhan had made his career in Onderon's military, but it was his thoughtful nature that had drawn Lux's mother to him. While on leave, Zakhan had spent much of his time in an office just like this, insisting the lack of visual distractions was worth the eyestrain.

Any time Lux had complained about the darkness, his father had simply smiled and told him that less ambient light only made your own thoughts shine brighter. It had been years since they'd had a long talk like that, mulling over the nature of sentience or the meaning of true freedom.

He wondered when his father's stance on the latter had changed so drastically – and who had been the one to convince him. He was so callous now, and at times, Lux could barely reconcile the man before him with his father.

Zakhan seated himself behind the desk and crossed his arms on its polished top. His chair had an unusually low back, and it only made him seem taller in comparison as he looked up at Lux and said, "The start of the next Standard year is a week from today. By the time the next one arrives, I want you married to a suitable candidate from one of the other Great Houses."

"What? Married?" Lux nearly choked on air. "Surely I misheard you!"

Zakhan's eyes narrowed fractionally.

"I– I meant only that I thought I'd have more time," Lux said, backpedalling as best he could through his disbelief. "You and Mother married in your late twenties, once you both had stable careers, and–"

"I find it distasteful as well, but you're a nobleman, and you have no need for a career. You'll be busy enough working to take our House to greater heights."

Once the Great Houses sent their children out into the galaxy to take everyone to greater heights, not just their own families, Lux thought in a daze, latching onto the one thing in this conversation he could make sense of, argue against.

Zakhan hummed, bringing his forearms up to link his fingers in front of his face. "I'd hoped to keep you single awhile longer and hold the promise of marriage to my Heir-Designate over the other Houses; aspirations toward such a prestigious alliance would keep even the most conniving of them in line. But for the present, the need for heirs outweighs the need for bargaining chips. That disastrous auction last month and your tour of the outer villages will just have to suffice as a social debut before I announce you're officially available for courting at the gala."

Available for courting. The pieces clicked into place then, the fragments of his father's plan Lux had glimpsed in passing crystalizing in his mind at last. Zakhan hadn't just been hiding him in the palace to wait for his son's brush with rebellion to blow over. Oh, no. He'd meant for everyone to forget about Lux entirely.

He'd changed Lux's name to something few others would recognize and all but forbidden the use of his old one. Two generations of the Bonteri family who'd rebelled against the Confederacy was a dangerous thing for his father to advertise simply by introducing his son and heir to potential suitors.

Great House traditions and the proud ancestors that had given Lux his full name meant nothing to Zakhan; they were nothing more than an excuse to keep Lux in line. The less of Lux's history of fighting tyrants showed on the surface, the easier it was to remake him – reforge him into something else entirely.

Lux's shock left him in a rush, dragging his favorite façades – the clever politician and the polite nobleman – after it. Understanding flooded in, filling the vacuum, but it was transparent enough to see beneath to what he usually kept so tightly under wraps: an anger so deep and feral and righteous it scared him.

He'd had a few close brushes since then, but he'd only really felt like this once before – and it was no easier to fend off now than it had been in the weeks following his mother's assassination. He managed to keep his expression level, but that deep, all-encompassing anger still forced a question up his throat before he could contain it. "Is that what I am to you, then?" he demanded, the words scalding on his tongue. "A bargaining chip?"

"The Great Houses are dynasties, Aluxsidrian," his father deflected, surprisingly calm. "Dynasties stay in power by finding the means to increase their numbers when they are too few, and culling the unneeded stock when they grow too great. Currently, we need numbers – numbers that have good breeding."

"Father, even if House Noreino is still new to the playing field, your heirs already have the blood of three Great Houses between them!" Lux shot back, leaning forward and putting his hands down on the desk. His forced himself not to flinch when his palms thumped loudly against the wood. "Noxarrin and Gregorieva are connected to House Oveiden through Lady Chrysilika, and her unborn child will have the same privilege. And I–" Lux scoffed out a laugh. "By rights, the twins should succeed you, and I should be leading House Bonteri right now."

"The name 'Bonteri' no longer holds any meaning. Your mother's House was fading when I married into it, and everyone knew it. With all other offshoots totally exhausted, its brightest star was a gullible politician who chose the wrong allies."

"A politician who loved you enough to bear you a son, even though she never wanted children!" Lux snapped, livid. "But she bowed to your wishes once she was established enough to raise me. Mina karking Bonteri caved. You've been blessed with so much! Must everything be on your terms? Must you always take more?"

"Why, you ungrateful–"

"Well, this Bonteri won't cave. My heart is mine to give to my choice for a husband or wife." Zakhan's eyes flashed a silent threat, and his low snarl was a terrifying counterpoint. Lux was too worked up now to care. "What I will do, what I have always tried to do with you, is compromise."

There was one card Lux had up his sleeve, a single promise he could dangle out of his father's reach. And for the first time in the two years he'd been his father's prisoner, groomed for a role he didn't even want, he was angry enough to use it.

Zakhan had never learned the whereabouts of the Bonteri fortune – the wealth his family had been accumulating over centuries. Some of it was kept in trust for Onderon should hardship befall the planet, but much of it was still Lux's to spend as he saw fit... or to give away. Since the failed Rebellion of Onderon, his father's gentle persuasion to be the one receiving had gradually faded into outright threats, but eventually he'd given up, convinced Mina's fabled wealth was all a lie.

Lux had never understood why his father was so desperate for the money – he'd have received hundreds of millions off his mother's life insurance – but it hadn't felt like greed alone. Perhaps it deserved some looking into.

"Mother was more careful than I ever would've been in her place, and I'm thankful to her for that," Lux said. "She split our family money over dozens of offworld banks and valuable properties. Even when I joined the uprising and Dooku tried to freeze my assets, he still didn't find them all.

"I still pay my taxes to the Crown, and I still hold the required percentage in trust for the people. It's all perfectly legal. If the person I marry – if I choose to marry – is left to me to decide, I'll give you all the details you want."

"I know you, son," Zakhan hissed, trembling with barely contained rage. His knuckles were clenched bone-white, a start contrast with his brown-black beard and tanned skin. "You thrive on secrets. You would never tell me all of them."

Lux's anger died down to a cool, ruthless burn in the pit of his stomach – present enough to fuel him, but subservient enough to work with. "You're right. I wouldn't. But I would be generous, and something is better than nothing."

The greedy gleam in Zakhan's eye was expected. His raucous laugh was not. "Blackmail! From my own son! Oh, we'll make a Great House leader out of you yet."

"Not... blackmail." The word seeped the heat from his anger until the coals turned to ashes. It left a horrible taste in his mouth, and he faltered, disgusted.

What was he doing? This was the man who'd raised him, who'd indulged him, who'd taught him what it meant to be a good person – not an adversary in Parliament to be taken out by any means necessary. Lux barely knew Zakhan Noreino anymore, but that wasn't an excuse to let his anger get the better of him.

This wasn't who Lux was. It couldn't be.

"Just a compromise – an agreement that opens the door for more profitable arrangements in the future, provided both parties honor the terms," Lux said, fighting to keep his momentum. If he backed down now, if he let his father win, he'd never be able to tell Alynna he could only ever imagine sharing a future with–

No. This was not the time to think about Alynna. He wore his heart on his sleeve when he thought about her, and if his father caught on...

"Your slave girl. That's what this is all about, isn't it?" Lux growled in warning, but his father had caught the scent. He wouldn't be deterred now. "Don't tell me you've fallen for her, stupid boy! You knew her uses when you chose her."

"If it were up to me, I'd send Alynna far away from here." It was more of a lie than ever after last night, and Lux hated himself as he told it, but he couldn't afford to dwell on it now. The stakes were even higher, now, and he had to stay focused or he could lose everything. "But you wouldn't allow that, of course."

"You're right. I wouldn't," Zakhan echoed, grinning ominously. "Here is my counterproposal. Marry a suitable noble by the end of the year, preferably one who can bear children, and I won't do away with your little tooka."

Lux's mouth fell open. "You're not seriously threatening to–"

His father didn't bother sugarcoating his words the way Lux had. "I may not have been raised to politics as you were, but I've been playing this game a lot longer than you, Aluxsidrian. I'll have those bank accounts in time. You can't outlast me forever. Even in seclusion from the rest of society, you're still sentimental enough to find someone to lose."

Hold firm, an inner voice whispered to him. Call his bluff. You've seen firsthand how well Alynna can handle herself.

The biting assertions he'd made that he wouldn't relent shattered around him one by one, as brittle as old glass. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Alynna too when he'd lost so much already. With tears in his eyes, Lux did as he'd done a thousand times before under his father's iron fist, and caved.

Every verbal concession he could scrape up stuck to his tongue, refusing to be spoken aloud. He bowed instead, and though he hadn't been dismissed, he left before his father could say another word.

Lux wiped his tears away with a fierce press of his hand as he passed the secretary and turned down the hallway. He needed to get to Alynna, needed to–

No. None of that. Last night had been an alcohol-induced dream so pleasant even the hangover the next morning hadn't tarnished it. And what a fool's dream it was; awakening to consider the implications was brutal in comparison.

Only now, with his walls down and emotions scattered, could Lux finally admit to himself that was falling in love with Alynna, and falling hard. And for all her clever feints and misdirections, sometimes he almost thought she felt the same way he did, too. But his family still owned her. She was unquestionably her own person in spirit, but he couldn't court someone who didn't have the legal power to say no.

The only solution was to set her free. It was so simple in theory, and yet it had somehow managed to unite Lux's father and his own heart – the unlikeliest of allies imaginable – against him.

Lux ran a hand through his hair, and felt frustration spark in him again when his fingers came back slathered in gel. His diaphragm lurched – the promise of more tears yet to come. He funneled the chaotic swirl of emotions into instead, ruffling his hair to tear it free of the perfect, awful coiffure he'd worked so hard at this morning.

The urge to cry faded, and left him wanting to punch something. He settled for pushing the power button on his wrist comm harder than was strictly necessary.

He was back in Kyzeron, now. And as often as he compared it to the belly of the beast, it was here, in his father's city, that he had all his schemes in place. It was here that he had all his equipment, all his contacts.

Until he found a way to wrest Alynna's freedom from his father's grasp, there were firewalls to slice and communiqués to intercept. He'd been gone a month. The Rebellion had been waiting for the results of his next endeavor long enough already.

It seems Ahsoka should have discussed what transpired between her and Lux last night while she still had a chance, before things – inevitably – became more complicated. Now, saddled with a duty as Heir-Designate to marry by the end of next year and confessions of love for the last person his father wants him seriously involved with on his lips, how will Lux navigate through the coming weeks? And just how deeply involved with the Rebellion is he? Enough to be an even greater ally to Ahsoka in the creation of her network than she initially aspected? Only time will tell...

HELLO EVERYONE, DAMN HAVE I MISSED YOU ALL

I know the long separation (and subsequent lack of SOTE chapters) wasn't fun, but it paid off: I got into the school that was my second choice, and I'm just waiting to hear back from the first! Fingers crossed for that.

The chapter title lines up pretty nicely, considering I'm reconnecting with Wattpad again, but it has a lot of significance for our cast of characters too. Lux is reconnecting with his family (unpleasant as that's turning out to be) and aiming to reconnect with the Rebellion, while Ahsoka is doing the same with allies among Kyzeron's lowest class denizens. She's also reconnecting with herself and slowly reminding herself what she can do so she can share it with the rest of those who need it – something that Kuro picks up on at the end of their conversation, but Ahsoka misses.

This chapter will also mark a bit of a turning point for Lux. Just as it took a catalyst – several of them, actually, come to think of it – to make Ahsoka start fighting back against the current instead of letting it carry her further downstream, Lux needs that same push to begin taking charge of his life again. And with the forthcoming gala, trust me when I say he'll be getting LOTS of shoves in the right direction. Whether that will result in a sweeter, gentler Lux or a more ruthless one, we'll have to wait to find out!

The idea that much like in the ancient world, purple was the color of monarchy because of how complicated and expensive it was to make, and it was forbidden to for commoners to wear, is really interesting to me (especially considering it's my favorite color and I get UNBELIEVABLY jumpy if I leave the house without my prized amethyst ring on). I imagined there's something similar here with a royal color scheme – not that it's forbidden, just that those colors are so often associated with the crown people think a noble who uses them is trying to measure up to something, to imitate. It's seen as being in bad form, or tacky. I chose gold, red, and green because those are the colors we see King Rash wearing during the Clone Wars. What the white Dendup wears in that same group of episodes means, I haven't decided yet, but knowing me, I'll come up with some way to stitch it right into the tapestry of this AU. We all know I can never leave well enough alone lmao

Next chapter, we get back to Vader's perspective, and we'll get a better sense of his dynamic with Kallus – and more context about some of the consequences the Battle of Felucia had on him personally. I'll talk to you guys then!