a refugee from belief in the heart's veined temple

by lancelotdulac

Summary:

“You can... read my mind?”

“No,” she hastened to explain. “Just sort of, pick up on your feelings, sometimes.”

“Seven stars.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “It’s not weird.”

He pressed his palms to his face. “How much...?”

“Can I feel? Just a little bit.” A little bit of Lux, however, was still a lot.

Notes:

title from Tonight by Agha Shahid Ali.

(starts during CW 4.14. sorry for the recap if you've seen it recently.)

Chapter 1: all the archangels--their wings frozen--

Ahsoka was fuming. Ten minutes ago, she had been safe and warm inside a well-fortified ship. Now Lux Fucking Bonteri had dragged her into a freezing ice-pit hell infested with Death Watch, convinced he could make some sort of deal with them. Ahsoka was stuck without her weapons, in a stinking Death Watch tent, next to possibly the most annoying politician in the galaxy.

And she'd had the bright idea to pretend to be his betrothed. She should have stolen his ship and left him behind on this rock.

“Don’t ruin my plan, okay?” Lux said in an undertone. His pale face was drawn and serious, hair tucked neatly away beneath a gray cap. His clothes all looked too new, too fresh against their weathered surroundings. Even the roses in his cheeks, flushed from cold, marked him as youthful and naive and completely out of his depth in this war camp.

“Plan? What plan?” Ahsoka hissed. He was unbearable. She clutched her coat closer to her, wishing she'd had time to don more layers.

Lux gestured to his watch. “This is a holo-trace device. It can track the source of any transmission. I knew if I accused Dooku of murder, I would be brought to face him. Well, it worked.” His rich brown eyes sparkled with triumph. “And now I know Dooku’s exact location. If Death Watch moves quick enough, we can destroy him!” He grabbed her by the shoulders, breaking into a grin. “Is that enough of a plan for you?”

She shrugged out of his grip, angry with his naivety. “This is not some idealistic political group. They will take the information and kill you!”

Lux drew back and rolled his eyes. “I knew you wouldn't understand.”

He was such a teenager, Ahsoka thought, annoyed. She wondered if this was how Obi Wan felt all the time. Was this what it was like dealing with her and Anakin’s antics? If so, she hadn’t been giving him the credit he deserved.

“The Death Watch are murderers," she enunciated, trying to get it through his thick skull. "Sworn to destroy Jedi. You don’t know what you’re doing! This--”

Lux grabbed her by the elbows and kissed her hard.

Her first thought was what the fuck? Her eyes still wide with surprise, she saw him dart his eyes towards the entrance of the tent, alerting her to the presence of others entering. Belatedly, she heard them shuffling in, felt their mental presences in the edges of her concentration.

Right. So it was strategic. Keeping up the lie that they were engaged.

(The part of her mind that was still a teenage girl said, with uncharacteristic giddiness, his lips are warm.)

One of their audience, gravelly voice filtered through his comm, asked, “Am I… interrupting something?”

They broke apart--rather, she shoved him off. “N-no, we were just, um—” Lux stumbled.

Ahsoka cast a glance at him, one eyebrow slightly raised. She could feel the pulses of confused desire radiating off of him. Nice going, dumbass, she thought, quieting her own emotions.

“It’s time to talk business,” the same man said, removing his helmet. He looked to be in his late forties, shaved head, a scar raked over his left eye, hollow cheeks and a permanent expression of arrogance etched into his features. “Tell your woman to leave us.”

Ahsoka and Lux exchanged a look. She read the slight panic in his gaze—whatever their pretense, they both knew Ahsoka was Lux’s best chance at being protected. She was the soldier, he was the politician. But to save both their lives, they would have to split. She hoped she could project her intentions with just her eyes—we’ll talk later. Be safe.

“Of course,” Lux said, and Ahsoka knew he was talking to the Mandolorian, but she felt the words directed at her all the same.

One of the other Mandalorians, slimmer, shorter, with a woman’s figure, grabbed her by the arm and began to lead her out.

They crossed the camp. The sky was blustery, gray, wind whipping at her coat. Snow was crusting her fur-lined hood and getting caught in her lashes. “Where are you taking me?” Ahsoka asked.

The woman didn’t answer, just led her towards a tent, swinging open the flap. Ahsoka had a moment to take in her surroundings--dim, populated by startled-looking girls, slightly warmer--when the woman shoved her. Ahsoka tumbled to the ground while the woman chuckled.

Furious, she scrambled up. “Try that again and I will--”

A girl grabbed her arm. “Shh! You don’t want to make them angry! They are far from rational.”

The Mandolorian woman was retreating anyway. Ahsoka sighed and turned to face the girl who had spoken. “Believe me, you have no idea.”

They exchanged names. The girl was called Tryla. The other young women in the tent were sisters, cousins, friends, all Ming Po. All had been kidnapped from a nearby town, a native tribe of Carlac invaded by the Death Watch. Yet another score to settle against them, Ahsoka thought. She added it to the tally.

A man barged in. “We feast. Prepare the food! Your masters are hungry.”

“Cripes,” Ahsoka said as he left. “They’re your captors, they treat you like slaves, and yet they don’t suspect you’ll poison them?”

Tryla shook her head. “We are a peaceful people,” she said. “It is against our beliefs to take the life of another.”

“Besides,” another girl added quietly, “They make us taste the food first.”

A sobering thought. “This way,” Tryla said. “There’s a hearth out there. I’ll show you where we keep the food.”

 

As they cooked, Tryla quietly filled her in on the names of the others, captives and captors alike, pointing them out subtly. Bo-Katan was the woman who had manhandled Ahsoka, Vizsla the scar-faced man. Yarl had ordered them to prepare the food.

Ahsoka chopped root vegetables as Tryla stirred a pot over the fire. Another pair of girls, Leelah and Ara, skinned and gutted small creatures that looked like rabbits.

“You’re handy with that knife,” Tryla said in an undertone.

Ahsoka opened her mouth to answer, but Tryla shook her head. “Nod or shake your head. As though I’m asking you about cooking.”

Ahsoka nodded.

“And you prepared to fight Bo-Katan earlier.”

Another nod.

“You’re a fighter. That’s not good. You’ll get us in trouble.”

“I don’t like being pushed around,” Ahsoka said, as quietly as she could. “And I don’t like seeing other people get bullied.”

“You’ll have to get used to it,” Tryla said. A strand of hair fell into her face and she pushed it back impatiently. “It is not in our nature to fight, to make waves and rebel. You must try to keep your head down while you and your betrothed are here. It ends poorly for those who don’t. Put those roots in the pot.”

She swiped the vegetables from the board into the water in a swift motion. Betrothed took her a moment. Ah, yes. Lux. Her chivalrous groom-to-be. “So you cook for them. What else? Clean, serve--” She stopped short, knife still clutched in her fist as her heart turned to ice. “Tryla, you’re all women. All those men, do they--?”

Tryla shushed her. “Don’t make a fuss! They do. Sometimes.” She took the knife from Ahsoka, her expression bleak. “It happened more in the beginning. One of their women, though, Jan Ira, has taken a dislike to it.” She called over Ahsoka’s shoulder, “Ara, turn the spits or the meat will burn.”

“Honor among thieves. I’m shocked.” Ahsoka fought to keep her anger in check.

“I think it may have happened to her.” Tryla glanced around to check that no one was within earshot. “There was an argument one day. She shot a man, Kahn. She threatened the rest. Bo-Katan had to step in. Jan Ira swore at them, called them pigs. Now she gets angry when she sees it happen to us. We’ve been safe for a bit because--”

One of the Mandalorians approached and yelled for the food to be served. Tryla shoved a set of cups and a flagon at Ahsoka. “Pour these for each of them. Generous pours, mind, and don’t speak. Look down--”

“Got it, got it,” Ahsoka said. “No mess, no fuss.” She whisked away to avoid being instructed further.

The inside of the banquet hall was dim and crowded. Since the tent flaps were always being opened and closed, gusts of freezing air kept whipping through. The Mandolorians in their armor seemed not to notice, but Ahsoka disliked the cold no matter how many layers she wore. She glanced at the other Ming Po, heads bowed as they served their captors. At the head table she spotted Lux. She approached behind him, smiling sweetly to avoid suspicion.

“Hungry?” she asked, syrup dripping from her tone. He started as he looked back--he hadn’t seen her. He wouldn’t last one minute in combat. “Careful not to choke on your own stupidity.” She served him a smile that was all teeth. To his credit, he looked ashamed.

Serves him right. This place was a headache she could have done without.

Notes:

much more to come. writing short chapters is weird; i've never done more than a oneshot on ao3. angst and sex were promised, they will be delivered.

Chapter 2: vintage loneliness has turned to vinegar

The rest of the banquet went off without much more trouble. She didn’t get the chance to speak to Lux again before Ara hustled her out and back to the tent where the Ming Po women slept.

The others filtered in as the feast died down. She heard the sounds of rowdy drunks dispersing, laughing and stumbling back to their own sleeping quarters. Some blaster shots were fired, presumably at more defunct droids. Ahsoka disliked the tinnies as much as the next Jedi, but it was a perfunctory sort of dislike outside of active combat. Her views on the Death Watch were much stronger. It was hard not to side with the droids when they were forced to dance to avoid their feet being blown off, when they were reanimated over and over and forced to be live target practice. A wave of resentment crashed over her. Lux was a hare trusting his life to these wolves, and he’d dragged her into it.

Some of the girls were sneaking glances at her and murmuring to each other as they unfolded sleeping mats to prepare for bed. Ahsoka looked at them askance. One of them whispered to her friend and they dissolved into laughter.

“She wants to know how you and your lover met,” Ara explained. “You seem so different, and you look different. How is it that you are in love?”

Ahsoka resisted the urge to touch her lekku. Different indeed. She debated what truth to tell them. “Well,” she said slowly, “we met through a friend. Um, Lux didn’t like me very much at first. And I thought he was stuck-up and annoying...” say nice things, she reminded herself. “But we had a lot more in common than we thought. We had... similar goals. He’s very driven and passionate, and nothing can stop him when he’s made up his mind.” She thought of the stun blast in her side with a grimace. “You could say there was a spark between us. I guess there was a moment when it really came down to a question of what we were to each other, and... I picked him. It just made sense for us to be together.”

One of the girls asked a question in another language. Ara translated. “She says, how did you get him to look at you that way?”

“What way?” Ahsoka asked, genuinely baffled.

“With the world in his eyes,” Ara said. “Like you’re wearing the stars.”

She didn’t have an answer for that. “Don’t any of you have lovers?” she asked, trying to change the subject. “Back home waiting for you?”

Ara looked away.

Tryla, from Ahsoka’s left, said, “we haven’t seen our families, our community, in years. Some of us don’t know... if they’re still waiting. Or still alive.”

Her stomach twisted.

“Death Watch takes most of the food for themselves,” Leelah, another of the girls, said. “The land is harsh. We would not be surprised if some of them...” she trailed off.

“I was engaged,” Ara said. Her voice was flat. “She was one of the first that Death Watch killed. She stood against them when they demanded our crops, our livestock. They shot her where she stood.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ahsoka said.

“So am I.” Ara turned on her side and pulled her blankets up. Leelah scooted up next to her to wrap her arms around her friend. The other girls began to settle in too, chatting quietly as they snuggled up under the covers, unbraided each others hair, arranged pillows and mats.

Tryla scooted closer to Ahsoka and put a hand on her shoulder. “She’s homesick,” she said softly. “We all are after so long. I’m sure you are too.”

Ahsoka could not ever remember feeling homesick. The word made sense to her in a theoretical way after having met people from stable environments, in villages they had been born in, though admittedly Ahsoka had only met them after the war had torn them apart. In a person’s native land, Ahsoka recognized, they were home, they had memories there, a childhood to look back on fondly; family, friends, community. She understood these concepts. There had been familiar faces around her since she was a toddler--Master Plo, of course, and her fellow younglings. But they had never been family, only peers and mentors. She hadn’t really been raised as a child, but as a very small soldier. Or a monk. She hadn’t had playrooms or nurseries or wide yards to run around in. She had never had a bedroom to call her own, just an impersonal bunk that changed each year, always scrubbed clean of any traces of her. She had largely lived without possessions, without any concept of playing that wasn’t connected to teaching.

Ahsoka had never had a problem with this. She had been raised--rather, trained--to lose herself in meditation, to release any attachments, to transcend earthly feelings like suffering and desire. She was not unhappy with her life; it gave her purpose. But she wondered, surrounded by the girls who shared with each other the warmth of their bodies, who clutched each other’s hands in sleep, who loved so dearly and with such open attachment, if she had been raised differently, if she could have been capable of a love, a family, like that.

Before she closed her eyes, she thought of Lux. How he spoke--my father, he had said bitterly when speaking of his loss, my mother, he had said, voice soaked in pain. The way he spoke her name, Mina Bonteri, so boldly, the way he claimed their relation, like it was something to be proud of. Ahsoka understood friends, understood family, but could not understand it as it applied to her. The way she felt about the people in her life whom she cared for dearly--Anakin, Master Plo--she couldn’t share these feelings with anyone, couldn’t claim that attachment aloud. It was something she knew existed but couldn’t let herself truly feel.

She wondered if he would carry the emptiness, the loss of them, for life. She wondered if he would ever fill the lack, if anyone could. She hadn’t experienced a loss like that, for which she was grateful. Her training was to thank for that, for protecting her heart against that kind of pain.

She wondered if he wished they were really engaged.

 

After a few hours, Ahsoka had settled into a catnap on a pallet next to Tryla’s. The other women were quiet but for the soft rustling of clothes and sheets as they tossed and turned fitfully.

She woke to the sound of a soft cry. Instinctively, she leapt up, her hands reaching for her lightsabers before remembering they were gone. Fucking Lux.

At once, she found the source of the cry. One of the Death Watch, Yarl, had the girl Leelah gripped tight in his arms. She was struggling against him as he attempted to dragged her out of the tent, one hand clamped over her mouth.

Ahsoka darted towards them and grabbed Yarl by the shoulder, wheeling him around and knocking his hand from Leelah’s mouth. The girl cried out again, and Ahsoka saw tear tracks streaking down her face.

“Let her go,” Ahsoka growled.

One of Yarl’s hands was still gripping Leelah tight, and the other was locked in Ahsoka’s grip. Still, he sneered at her, yellowed teeth bared with contempt. “Don’t be fooled by her pathetic mewing. She wants this.”

Leelah shook her head desperately. “Please, no. Just let me go, I don’t want any trouble.”

Yarl tried to yank his arm away from Ahsoka, presumably to hit the girl. Instead, Ahsoka flexed her fingers, digging them into the sensitive tendons in the man’s wrist. He yelled, dropping Leelah in a heap on the ground. “Bitch!” he cried out, full attention on Ahsoka. She didn’t waste time arguing, just dropped into a fighting stance.

The other women had roused by this point, and Leelah was already crawling across the floor to join them, where they embraced her, rubbing her arms as she shivered. Tryla called out, “Let her be, Yarl! I doubt Jan Ira will take kindly to this.” To another girl, she said, “Fetch her, quickly,” as the girl nodded and ran off out the back flap of the tent.

Ahsoka glanced between Yarl and the girls. On the one hand, she wanted to dole out a beating to him to teach him to keep his hands to himself. On the other, she didn’t want to get them in a worse predicament than they were already in. If they knew enough to have a precedent for this, it meant it had happened before. The realization made her nearly blind with rage.

Yarl saw her glance. “You want to fight me, little lady?” he snarled. “These sluts aren’t worth the beating you’ll get. I don’t care whose betrothed you are, I have no trouble sending you back to him with a broken jaw. See how he likes your pretty face all bruised up. Maybe you’ll come crawling to my bed then, and I can show you a good time.” He leered at her.

Ahsoka sized him up in a split second. He was lean with muscle, but not as brawny as most of the clones. The scars on his hands and face indicated a past of roughhousing, but his stance was weak. She knew where to strike to knock him off balance. Aloud, she said, “You’ll find I’m tougher prey than I look.”

Yarl swung at her, and she ducked, ready to sweep his legs out from under him, but before his fist even cleared the arc he intended, he was flipped on his back, and not by Ahsoka. She drew back, ready for a second attacker, but was met with the sight of a Mandolorian woman with one boot planted on Yarl’s chest as she leaned over to examine him.

“Yarl,” the woman drawled. Her brown hair was cropped short, and she bore a scar on the side of her face that stood out stark white against her brown skin. “We’ve been over this before. Didn’t I tell you the next time I was dragged from my nice cozy bed by someone complaining about your disgusting antics, I’d kick your ass from here to Mandalore?”

Yarl spat at the ground. “It’s her fault,” he growled. “That boy’s skug is causing trouble without reason.”

Ahsoka took issue with this, and was about to say so, but Jan Ira got there first.

“Then send her back to him,” Jan replied calmly. “I don’t care who you fuck, but you won’t touch an unwilling woman again without losing the hand. Are we clear?”

“These whores—“

Yarl was interrupted by a boot to the ribcage. He hollered and was cut short again by a swift kick to the stomach which left him wheezing and clutching his gut. Ahsoka admired the woman’s technique. She let herself relax a fraction, still braced for impact in case Jan decided she was next.

“Shut up,” Jan Ira told the man on the ground. “I’m sick of hearing your yapping. Back to your tent or I don’t have a problem using you for target practice.” She patted the gun at her side.

Yarl crawled away, muttering curses as he dragged himself across the crunching snow.

The woman turned to regard Ahsoka. “You’re trouble,” she said. “I won’t have you here with the women or running about the camp.” She went to grab Ahsoka by the shoulder.

Ahsoka dodged, dropping back into her stance. “I don’t appreciate being manhandled,” she snapped.

Jan Ira sighed. “I’m surrounded by hardheads. Your fiance won’t appreciate my kicking your ass, which I assure you, I’m more capable than Yarl of doing. I’m sending you back to your man to keep you out of trouble. The girls know to send for me if one of our boys bothers them. You are nothing but a headache, and I detest headaches. Come with me the easy way or I’ll put a blaster bolt in both your brains and sleep nice and quiet tonight.”

Ahsoka may have been confident enough to take on the woman, even unarmed, but she wouldn’t let her own temper be the cause of Lux’s death. Silently, but glaring all the while, she stood stiffly and marched out of the door.

Jan marched them to a small tent on the outskirts of the camp and ripped open the flap, calling, “You’d better be decent, loverboy.”

Lux sat up in bed looking bleary-eyed, but he tensed when he saw who it was. At least he was dressed, Ahsoka thought.

Jan Ira shoved her inside. “Here’s your blushing bride,” she drawled. “See that she tends to your bed rather than rousing me from mine.”

She stalked out. Ahsoka made sure to stay crouched on the floor until she was sure Jan was gone, then slowly rose, brushing herself off. She was shaking with fury. Hopefully Jan had mistaken it for cold, though Ahsoka wasn’t sure how harmless an act she could pull off now anyway.

“What the hell was that?” Lux asked.

“I was being stupid. Trying to help the women,” Ahsoka said bitterly. “Don’t worry, your cover isn’t blown.”

“Our cover,” he said. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, wiping the sleep from them. “You can’t sleep there, with the women?”

“No,” she said. Her throat was tight. “Leelah. One of the girls. I tried to stop Yarl from--” she pressed her hands to her forehead. “I wanted to keep her safe. She didn’t want to go with him.”

“Oh,” Lux said. There was a pause as he digested this.

“There’s nothing I can do. I feel so helpless.” Ahsoka clenched her fists. “I hate pretending.”

“You can’t go back to the women’s quarters.”

Ahsoka hoped this was a question, not a command. She chose to respond to it as such. “He’ll probably be gone for a while. I can stay up and sneak back in later tonight.”

“Stay here.”

Lux was being ridiculous again. “What? No.”

“Stay,” he said again. Tired but reasonable. “It’s pointless. One of them could catch you again, and might not be so forgiving next time. Or someone else could visit the women’s quarters, and in the dark, you don’t look so different from the others.”

“So I hide here to save my own skin? Cozy and warm while they’re subjected to--”

“You understand we’re in danger, right?” If he’d been more awake, if the sleep hadn’t softened his voice on the last word, Ahsoka would have chafed at his tone. “Another misstep like that and it’s our lives.”

“They need me.”

“You’ll do more good to them tomorrow. When you’re clothed, rested, and armed. Not now. Not like this. The best way to help them is to stay alive tonight.”

She didn’t want to see the logic in his argument.

His chest heaved with a sigh, and he sat back with a soft thump. “Come to bed,” he said simply. “It’s freezing.”

Her breath caught, but she arched an eyebrow in defiance, hoping to hide her coltish shyness.

“Don’t worry, I won’t touch you,” Lux said. “We’re not really engaged, after all.” He rolled over, leaving room on the other side. “But it’s better than the floor.”

She eyed his back, his shoulders, exposed in his sleeveless undershirt and illuminated in the thin strip of moonlight filtering through the roof. In the dark, it was easier to let her eyes cling to him, following the simple lines and curves of his body, mapping, memorizing them. “I’ve slept on the floor before,” she protested, but there was no vigor there.

“Ground’s frozen.” He was already half asleep. “Don’t waste breath arguing.”

She disliked being told what to do, but he was right. Grudgingly, she padded over to the empty side of the bed and slid under the covers. They were warm from the heat of his body. She’d never shared a bed with someone before.

“I hope you don’t snore,” she said.

“I hope you stop talking,” he grumbled.

She turned her face into the pillow to hide the smile, though he wouldn’t have seen it anyway. Their backs were to each other, carefully not touching, but she was aware of his body all the same as though it was radioactive.

Slowly, by degrees, she slipped into unconsciousness.

Notes:

life has been hectic. i write at night when i should be sleeping and i think of it when i'm at work. my heart's a mess

Chapter 3: some fire from ice

When she woke, the first thing she felt was Lux’s back against hers. They’d slid together in the night somehow. Carefully, she wiggled out from under the covers, donning her layers before the bracing cold hit her. Briefly she considered leaving without him, then shook her head - based on the events of last night, it would be better to have her backup conscious at least.

She crossed to his side of the bed. His face rested in the crook of his arm, mouth slightly agape.  Ahsoka called his name softly.

His eyes flicked open right away, and she started.

“Forcesakes,” she said. “Were you even asleep?”

Lux yawned into his arm. His face was sleep-pale, his hair spiky on one side from being crushed into the pillow. “Barely,” he said.

“Did I keep you awake?” Ahsoka hoped she hadn’t been talking in her sleep.

“No.” He stretched, sitting upright to arch his back. She saw goosebumps span his arms as he shivered. “I just don’t sleep well. You’re wearing my clothes.”

“I am not!”

He looked at her shirt pointedly.

She looked down. It was indeed one of Lux’s. Belatedly, she realized the clothes she’d worn yesterday were still in the women’s quarters.

“It’s fine, I have spares,” Lux said.

“I can give them back,” Ahsoka protested.

“Keep them. It’s something real couples do. Besides—“ he stopped himself, blushing.

Amused, she asked, “You like how they look on me?”

“No!” His cheeks flamed. “I just meant, it’s better to— oh, Forcesakes.”

He never said that before, she noted.

He rolled over to the other side of the bed. “I’m going to change.”

“Whatever.” She turned away, hiding a grin. She liked that he’d rolled.

“You’ll miss your opportunity to see all this?”

“Was that a joke?”

“Obviously.” Cloth rustled, and from the way his voice hitched she guessed he was putting on pants. “No good-morning kiss either, I noticed.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“It was your idea to be engaged.” A click as he buckled his belt.

“You had a better one?”

“You weren’t supposed to be there!”

“Admit I’m a faster thinker than you.” She turned around.

He was holding his shirt in his hands. He had a slender ribcage, flat chest and stomach, all his muscles tensed as he braced against the cold. He raised his eyebrows at her.

Her heart stuttered for a moment. Get a grip! She told herself firmly. You’ve seen a shirtless man before. Granted, not in so intimate a setting, but the principle was the same.

“And?” He said drily.

“And you’re skinny.”

He laughed. “I’m missing meals. We match this way.”

She rolled her eyes at him. She liked the way he laughed. His gray eyes got bright and he tilted his head down like he was bashful. He was beautiful, she thought, in a simple sort of way, with his dimpled chin and soft eyes and his rare smile. There was something about him that made her want to help him, even though he would never ask for it and would protest stringently if she ever offered it. Maybe “protect” was a better word. He had a way of moving about the world that made it seem like he’d been taken care of all his life, like when he fell, the earth opened its arms to him. Or maybe it was just Ahsoka and her eternal compulsion to save baby birds and saplings when she saw them.

“Are you hungry?” Lux asked. He had donned his shirt and was shrugging into his outer layers. “We might have to cook it ourselves if we want anything.”

“You can cook?” she asked archly.

He grimaced at her. “Not well. But how else am I supposed to eat?”

“I guess I thought you had people who would do it for you,” she said. She brushed a hand over her belt as she usually would to check for her lightsabers, reflexive. “Like servants.”

“How do you think I’ve been living?” He asked, sounding almost insulted. “After my mother’s—death,” he stumbled over the word, “—the debt collectors closed in. I know neither of my parents owed anyone, but suddenly there were all these imaginary expenses, union dues and overdue estate fees. They beggared me. I only barely managed to hold onto our apartment in the city, and even that was a near thing.”

“Kriff,” she said. Shame for her thoughtlessness prickled hot over her neck. This sapling weathered storms before her. “I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t know.” He sighed. “Anyway. I can make bantha jerky and eggs three ways, but I doubt they have those here.”

“Probably not,” she agreed. “But I have something I need to do first, if you can wait.”

Before looking for breakfast, Ahsoka sought out Tryla. She found her with the other Ming Po washing clothes next to a frozen stream. They had punctured the ice, making holes to scoop the icy water out, and had a small firepit set up on the bank to warm the washwater.

“How did the night go?” Ahsoka asked the girl.

“Nothing else happened,” Tryla assured her. “It’s all right, Ahsoka. We survived like this long before you were here.”

Ahsoka resisted the urge to shout but you shouldn’t have to! Instead, she said, “what can I do?”

“Help with the washing if you can,” Tryla replied. She tucked her hair behind her ear and wiped a sleeve over her forehead, careful not to disturb her intricate headdress. “Tell us about your life before, and how you came here. We are hungry for new stories.”

Ahsoka obliged for some time as the sun crept a few more hands over the horizon until Leelah heard her stomach growl and pointed her in the direction of breakfast.

She fetched Lux. As it turned out, he had found supplies for mealy grain-and-water firecakes. She added some of the hard green winterberries Leelah had told her about and they ate a meal that was unsatisfying but served its purpose. Both of them had learned not to turn their nose up at food, no matter how unappetizing. They washed it down with floral cassius tea and cold water.

“I’ll go back to help the girls,” Ahsoka said.

“Can I--” Lux hesitated. “Would I be welcome there?”

“I’m not sure,” Ahsoka said slowly. “I mean, they’re fine with me, but you’re...” male, she wanted to say, and working with the Death Watch. “They haven’t gotten to know you yet,” she finished. “They might be a bit skittish of you.”

He wilted slightly. “Of course.”

She felt bad then. “But you can come with and meet them, at least?”

As it turned out, they took a liking to Lux. Despite his awkwardness, he had a way about him, something that endeared him to people when he wasn’t being standoffish and political. He blushed when they giggled at him and pointed between him and Ahsoka, but he was a ready learner and fetched firewood and kindling with unselfconscious enthusiasm.

“He’s sweet,” Ara whispered to her when Lux was away, crouched next to Tryla and frowning with concentration as he fed twigs to the fire.

“A little,” Ahsoka said. “But don’t tell him I said so, or it’ll go to his head.”

Ara laughed and leaned against her, bumping her shoulder gently.

How am I meant to let these people go? Ahsoka thought, frustrated. I’ve seen how they live, how they’re treated, and forcesakes, I care about them. It’s too late to wish I never came here. I can’t live with myself if I do nothing.

Lux looked up and met her eyes. Maybe he saw something there, because he stood and beckoned her away.

She followed him off a ways. “What is it?”

“You were getting tetchy,” he said.

“No I wasn’t.”

“Okay, well, you looked like you wanted to fight something. I thought it would be better to get you out of there.”

“What are we doing?” She burst out. “I can’t be here! I have places to be, I can’t be stuck here making sure you don’t get yourself blown up--”

“I would have taken care of myself!”

“Oh cripes,” she snapped, “don’t even start.”

“You weren’t supposed to be here!” Lux yelled. He turned away from her, raking his hands through his hair. “You act like you know so much better than me, like I’m just some kid, but Ahsoka, we’re the same age!”

“I’ve been through a war,” she started.

“So have I! I lost both my parents to it! Just because I’m not a soldier doesn’t mean I’m useless—stop acting like you’re the only one who knows anything about loss, about fighting. You don’t know the first thing about me.”

Stung, she drew back. “I didn’t say you were useless.”

“Well you’re acting like it.” He still wasn’t facing her. Just this morning she’d thought he was beautiful. They’d shared breakfast, they’d shared a bed.

Their standoff was interrupted by the sound of heavy bootsteps crunching through the snow. “Children,” Bo-Katan said drily. “You’re yelling on the playground.”

Ashoka felt Lux stiffen at the same time as her. Neither of them liked being referred to as children--eighteen as they were--but it felt more immature to protest.

“Just a disagreement,” Ahsoka said.

“Disagree quieter,” Bo-Katan said. She had her helmet in one hand, her other hand resting on the hilt of a blaster. “No one else wants to hear your little lover’s spat. Some of us are just trying to take a piss in peace. Take it elsewhere or kiss and make up. Got it?”

“Understood,” Ahsoka said icily.

Bo-Katan sighed heavily and tramped away, muttering about teenagers.

Ahsoka and Lux exchanged a look. The heat had gone out of their fight.

“Let’s talk somewhere else,” Lux suggested.

They walked for a while until they reached a grove of bent-backed trees that flowered pink and white. Their dark trunks made a stark picture against the dim blue sky. Already the sun was beginning to sink--days on Carlac, it seemed, were a scant few hours long. Ahoka settled herself cross-legged into the roots of one, leaning back against its sturdy body. Lux rested on the low branch of another.

“I know you want to leave,” he said. “And we will. Soon. I just need to work with them for a little while longer until we can kill Dooku. Then we’re out.”

“They’re terrible people. Look what they’ve done to the Ming Po. Look what they’ve done to Mandalore, all the attacks, the civilians and the Jedi they’ve killed in cold blood. It’s horrible. I want to believe that you’re better than that, and here you are working with them.”

“A knife can be a tool for good in the right hands,” he said. “More than just a weapon.”

“And your hands are the right ones?” She shook her head. “The Death Watch is a grenade launcher, not a knife. I know you think you’re using them, but I promise, they’re using you. I know you’re smart and capable and all that,” she said when he made an argumentative noise, “but they’re backstabbers through and through. Even if you’re working towards the same goal now, they'll turn on you eventually.”

He was quiet. “I don’t have many options left,” he said finally.

“The Republic--”

“Stop. That’s not what I want. I’m no longer a Separatist, but that doesn’t mean my issues with the Republic have disappeared. Going through those channels isn’t the solution for me.” His eyes burned with conviction and his jaw was set in a mulish position that communicated there would be no argument.

She surveyed him. “Have you always been this stubborn?”

“I’m stubborn?” He scoffed, but his lips were quirked in a smile. “Have you met yourself? We must be one of those couples who share a personality.”

“We’re too bullheaded to call off the engagement,” Ahsoka agreed. “Everyone thinks we’re breaking up when we fight but it’s just our way of flirting.”

He shook his head. “We’re hopeless.”

“Completely.” 

Before she could turn the topic back to the matter at hand, he spoke again. Something had changed in those few seconds, and she sensed that his mind had wandered off course. His body shifted too, and he was no longer looking at her, but off in the distance, face tilted away.

“It’s odd, isn’t it? That this is the most normal I’ve felt in months.”

She understood. “Your life has been pretty unpredictable lately.”

“That. But talking with you, I feel... I don’t know.” He turned to face her now, and there was a look she didn’t quite understand in his clear blue eyes. Some strong emotion was tugging at her, some feeling emitting from him that called to her intrinsically. “You make me feel like myself again. Like things make sense.”

Ahsoka did something that might have been bad manners, but to be fair, she had been raised in a litter of Force-sensitive children with few secrets between them. Without thinking too much about it, she reached out to brush the surface of Lux’s thoughts gently with the Force.

His emotions were powerful . And so physical . She felt like she’d been dropped from a high building and woken up midfall--there was a deep flutter in his stomach so intense it was almost painful. And something more, a kind of fire she had never felt before. A strange and wild ache radiated from his chest, glowing like molten gold, so scorching hot she thought it might crack through his sternum and explode.

She jerked backwards instinctively, her back hitting a knot in the tree, and the pain was enough to jolt her out of the riptide of his emotions and back into her own body.

“Are you okay?” Lux’s hand darted towards his blaster as he tensed up, ready for a fight. “Do you see something?”

“N-no, I was just cold,” Ahsoka stammered. Kriff, what was she supposed to say? Everything that came to mind felt insufficient. Are you okay? Why is your chest on fire? Does your stomach always feel so full of butterflies?

There was true concern in his voice as he offered, “do you need more layers? A thicker coat, or we could go back inside?”

“I’m all right,” she said hastily. “Um, are you?”

“… What?”

“You feel… warm.”

He put a hand to his forehead. “How can you tell from over there?”

“Not temperature-wise, exactly. More... emotionally.”

He was silent.

“Sorry to pry. It’s a Force-sensitive kind of thing.”

“You can... read my mind?”

“No,” she hastened to explain. “Just sort of, pick up on your feelings, sometimes.”

“Seven stars.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “It’s not weird.”

He pressed his palms to his forehead. “How much...?”

“Can I feel? Just a little bit.” A little bit of Lux, however, was still a lot. He carried his emotions so openly--even without the Force, she could usually read his every thought just by studying his brooding face. “It’s sort of hard to avoid it, from you.”

“From me?”

“Your emotions are pretty loud.”

He sank back into his tree, covering his face.

“Okay, don’t freak out,” Ahsoka said. His reaction confused her. She didn’t need to reach out with the force to feel the humiliation coursing through him, but why? 

“So you can tell?” he said roughly. “The way I feel about you?”

About her?

She touched the spot beneath her collarbone, where the ghost of the feeling lay. It had been so tangible, so real, the sensation of falling and that burning glow. It was a sort of anguished want that he carried in the center of his chest. She didn’t have the words for it—she had certainly never felt anything like it before. It seemed uncomfortable, but… enjoyable? Maybe that was the wrong word.

It felt like hunger.

“Desire,” she said aloud. And then she realized. “Oh. For me.”

“This is humiliating,” he said, still not looking at her, and he tugged his hands into his sleeves, pressing them against his knees to steady them, and she realized he was trembling. She suddenly felt terrible.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t have pried. I didn’t realize--I didn’t expect--”

“That I would like you?” he asked sarcastically. “Ahsoka, it’s not that complicated. There’s a pretty girl who’s been sharing my bed and we’re pretending to be engaged. I kissed her earlier and I shouldn’t do it again.”

“That’s not complicated?” Her voice went a little unsteady. She couldn’t help it: his butterflies were contagious, and they rioted when he called her pretty.

“How I feel,” he clarified, “Given the situation. Hey, this isn’t fair. I think I should get to know your feelings, seeing as I don’t have a choice in your knowing mine.”

“My feelings?”

“Or lack thereof,” he said. He was toying with a fallen flower petal now, looking at it instead of her. The little nervousness in that motion made her heart twist.

Lux was right: she owed it to him. The problem was that her emotions didn’t overwhelm her the way his did, and it was harder to assess them when his desire was pinging off of her like radio waves. She cleared her mind and did her best to shut him out, calm her heart, reach deep inside to the tide pool of her emotions. Her heart gazed back at her from its crystal pool, still waters glittering, the depths visible all the way down.

“It’s different,” she said at length. “The way I feel--desire, attachment. We’re not supposed to want things, really.”

“Right,” he said with an ironic sort of twist. “The Jedi way.”

She didn’t like his tone on the word Jedi, and snapped her head up to tell him so, but stopped short when she saw his face in the soft blue light. The raw emotion--half agony, half hope.

“It’s different with me,” she said again. Softer than she was going to. “But I think I get it.” She thought of how she felt seeing his back in the moonlight, how much she liked the look of his chocolate hair and his half-smile, his hands in motion with their bitten nails, and his clear gray eyes when he gazed at her. Wasn’t that desire too? “I guess I’m curious.” She inhaled through her nose, the sharp, cold air refreshing her mind. “We’re not taught to think about sex, relationships, in quite the same way. It just never felt like an option, really. I don’t know.”

“Hey, woah,” he said, his cheeks going scarlet, “who said anything about sex?”

She was lost again. “Wasn’t that what we were talking about?”

“I mean--is that what you want?”

This was confusing. “I’m still figuring out kissing,” she said. “Do you want to have sex?”

“Kriff, ” he said weakly, like he’d been hit, the wind knocked out of him. “At least take a guy to dinner first.”

I guess it did sound like an invitation, she thought wryly, and then she was giggling helplessly, and after a second he shook his head and he was laughing too, head tipped back against the tree.

“Ahsoka, you’re something else.”

Warmth bloomed inside her. His gaze clung to her, his lips parted a little in a smile.

“I really do want to kiss you again,” he said softly.

Her stomach bottomed out. She might regret this later, but--who would know? There was no one around, she rationalized, and as soon as that thought hit she knew it was too late, she’d made her mind up. She rose from her seat slowly, languidly, stretching her back to give herself something to do, so she wouldn’t seem too eager. 

“You know,” she began. “I don’t think there’s any reason we shouldn’t.” Despite her best effort to sound casual, her voice cracked a little. “Just, like, out of curiosity.”

“Right,” he said. “We might as well. While we’re here.” His voice was gravelly.

She stepped closer to him, testing the waters. His pupils were so huge she could have swam in them. The smell of the morning’s woodsmoke clung to him, along with something spicy and warm, something she recognized from the scent of his pillow, something that was all Lux.

“If you’re okay with it,” she said. Her knees felt like jelly.

“Stop talking,” he said, and leaned forward.

When Ahsoka was younger, she had lived on a planet of grasslands and lakes. The waters had been still and calm, barely rippled by wind. It wasn’t until years later that she ever saw the ocean. She had watched the tides for hours, the way they swelled onto the shore, covering the sand completely, and pulled away leaving traces of their passage behind, the formerly dry, dull ground sparkling and new-looking. She had swam deep, letting her body flow with the waves as instructed, and afterwards she stood in the shallows with the swirling tide eddying around her calves for the sheer joy of it. Even hours later, as she lay awake in bed, the rhythm, the push and pull, had woven itself into the beating of her heart, taken over the pumping of her veins, her breath, until it was all of her.

That was kissing Lux.

His mouth was so gentle. He tasted like cassius and honey. And he cupped her face in one hand, like she was delicate, like he was afraid to break her.

No one had ever touched her like she was delicate before.

She took her lips away. He looked how she felt, a little dazed, a little eager.

“Was that--” he said uncertainly.

“It was good.” The first kiss was born of necessity. This one felt--indulgent. Her Jedi training was tapping at her insistently. Attachments are forbidden . 

“Good like, experimental, or good like let’s do it again?” he asked.

“All right, don’t push your luck.”

He grinned. Oh no, she thought, because now she had awakened something within herself, a wild need to kiss the corners of that grin. Kiss it to keep it, kiss it to make it go away, What was she doing? She shouldn’t have given in. He got her confused with his big loud feelings, they got all tangled up with hers, and she couldn’t separate them--

They were kissing again. Had she leaned in this time?

The mountains around them were turning pink and orange in the setting sun, setting fire to the tops of the trees. The frigid wind nipped at her exposed skin, her fingers, her cheeks, her nose. And he was so warm, and she could have counted every one of his dark lashes in the brief moments her eyes were open if she’d cared to. Their lips connected over and over, and his hands were on her, one gripping her waist, the other on the back of her neck, and she tangled her hands in his hair as she kissed him back with the same desperation.

“We should,” she gasped after a while, “Probably stop at some point?”

He was kissing her neck now in a very distracting way, right under her jaw, and her knees were getting weak. “Mmph,” he said.

“Lux, we’re outside,” she said, fighting to regain control of herself. “Anyone could see us.”

“So?” He spoke it into her skin, making her shiver.

“It’ll be dark soon,” she reminded him. And herself.

He groaned and thunked his head into her shoulder. “Kriff.”

Very lightly, she traced her fingers over the back of his neck. He was nice to touch, she decided. “Let’s go back to camp.”

“We should.” He sounded unenthusiastic.

“Okay.” She collected herself, pulled away, smoothing out her clothes and setting her thoughts back in order. “Come on, and we can talk about how we’re getting out of here.”

Lux let out a breathless laugh. “You’re giving me whiplash here,” he said.

“Get used to it.” She bumped his shoulder with her own.

Notes:

between moving apartments, starting a new job, and half of my friends moving to the other side of the country, i've been so busy i've barely had time to do anything. i really want to finish this fic because for some reason it's been keeping me going.

a funny thing is that one of my first fics was star wars slash, written on fanfiction.net of all places. i was like 14 and didn't care at all about canon compliance, character consistency, etc, and now i'm frantically googling DOES TEA EXIST IN STAR WARS??? and finding ultra-specific details which tbh is a bit exhausting so it's taking a while. i labored over this one forever doing like one sentence at a time and reworking scenes a million times so at this point i'm just ready to share it because i can.

now i've gone way over the length of a classy author's note, so better call it there. thank you to everyone who has read, subscribed, and commented, y'all are the best.

Chapter 4: at once under your spell tonight

The two of them trooped back into camp as the shadows on the ground stretched longer. There was a magnetism between their two bodies—their knuckles kept brushing accidentally, and Ahsoka wasn’t sure if she should mind or not. She decided it was all right. It’s not like they were holding hands or anything.

One of the men of the Death Watch interrupted their walk to tell them they were holding another feast. It was less an invitation and more a command. Ahsoka was expected to serve again—just as well, she thought, she didn’t want to rub elbows with the people who had sworn to exterminate her kind anyway.

They parted, a brief and awkward goodbye in which neither of them were sure whether to hug or just leave and ended up awkwardly nodding. Ahsoka was still grinning as she headed into the group of Ming Po who had gathered to prepare the meal.

Tryla was busy orchestrating. She gave Ahsoka the task of pouring drinks again, and was whispering instructions at her elbow as they walked into the banquet hall. Ahsoka was only half paying attention when Tryla cried out and came to a quick stop, clutching Ahsoka’s arm.

“What’s wrong?” Ahsoka asked.

Tryla was trembling. Following her gaze, Ahsoka saw a pair of men had entered the tent, one older, one younger, who were dressed in a similar elaborate fashion to Tryla and the rest of her people.

“...taken our women, stolen our food and threatened us for too long.” the man was saying to Pre Viszla.

Viszla smirked. “Brave of you to come here with such bold words.”

Tryla was shaking in Ahsoka’s arms. She was torn between wanting to protect the girl and the man, who looked too small, too unarmed and ornamental, to be threatening the killer in front of him.

“You are no longer welcome here,” the man, Pieter , she heard one of the girls mumble in shock, said stiffly.

“Well, if our presence here isn’t welcome, we’ll make ready to leave.” Viszla said carelessly.

The air in the room became very still.

“And you’ll return our people to us?” Pieter asked.

“No, no,” Tryla whispered. Her knees had given out and Ahsoka was the only thing keeping her upright. “Grandfather, please, you know not to whom you speak...”

“Yes, sunrise tomorrow. You have my word.” Pre Viszla smiled like a predator, all cold teeth and coiled muscles. Again, her fingers itched for a weapon, a shield, anything she could use to block his access to his prey.

“Very well,” Pieter said, collecting himself. “We’ll be waiting.”

Viszla flicked his fingers and two Mandalorians escorted him and his companions out. Ahsoka didn’t let out a breath until they were out of view and out of earshot, when she was sure no blasters had been fired or knives drawn. When she finally exhaled, Tryla was already hustling away to collect empty plates, her previous task forgotten in her grief. Ahsoka looked down at the wine pitcher in her hands, then up again towards the owners of the cups she was meant to pour for.

Her eyes met Lux’s, and she realized he was already looking at her.

“You see?” he said quietly. “They’re not the butchers you make them out to be.”

Ahsoka doubted this. The smirk lingered on Pre Viszla’s face for too long.

...

Ahsoka was clearing plates from the banquet table when Lux approached at her side. “May I?” he asked, gesturing towards the dishes.

She stacked cups on a tray and handed it to him. “Take. Wash. Aren’t you worried your Death Watch buddies will see you fraternizing with their captives?”

“They’re not my buddies ,” he said, but very quietly. “And I’ll just tell them I’m helping my cranky girlfriend so she doesn’t bite my head off while I sleep tonight.”

Girlfriend made her feel uncomfortable in a way betrothed hadn’t. Betrothed implied duty, solemnity, a precontracted arrangement. Girlfriend felt… not like that.

“You’re getting real comfortable with this engagement thing,” she said, matching his lowered voice. “A few kisses and suddenly we’re sharing a bed again? You haven’t even asked.”

“Seven stars,” Lux said, sounding stricken. She turned to see real mortification cross his face. “Ahsoka, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I was teasing,” she said, which was mostly true. “But I’d planned on staying in the women’s quarters again.”

“Really?” Ara’s voice came from behind Ahsoka. She and Lux both jumped—she didn’t know how long the girl had been standing there with one hand on her hip, eyebrow raised. “You’d give up a nice cozy bed with your boytoy for another sleepless night among strangers?”

“I want to help,” Ahsoka began, and Ara rolled her eyes.

“Just share the damn bed,” Ara said. “Pretty boy, put the cups over there.” She pointed to a washbasin outside and Lux followed her lead rather quickly. Ara turned to Ahsoka.

“Take it from someone who wishes she’d had more time,” Ara said, and it was the closest to gentle Ahsoka had ever heard the girl sound. “Spend the nights you have together.”

How could she say no to that? Ahsoka wished she was better at emotional stuff, better at physical touch, because right then she wished she knew how to hug the girl in front of her. Instead, she nodded.

“Thank you,” she said, because nothing else seemed quite right.

 

Later, she would wonder how they got from the tree to back inside their tent. It seemed to take no time at all and yet the distance was far greater than she had remembered.

Ahsoka went inside first. The fur lining had done its job--protected from the elements, the room was still warm. Lux closed the flap behind them, shutting out the light, and the pure inky blackness swallowed her up. Without the skylight open, without lamplight or moonlight, the darkness was thick and liquid, so that when Ahsoka blinked, her vision didn’t change. It felt warm, secret, like a pocket dimension. She groped her way to the edge of the bed to sit down and let her eyes adjust.

She felt the mattress sink a little as Lux settled in next to her. “If you’re uncomfortable at all, we don’t have to share. I can sleep on the ground.”

“You think I’m uncomfortable, what, touching you?” She was glad he couldn’t see her smirk. Was he really worried about her delicate sensibilities? “I’m not exactly a blushing virgin on her wedding night.”

“Oh--you’re not? Sorry, I thought we both--”

He’s the delicate one, she thought, amused. “Virgin, yes. Blushing, no. But it’s good to know you’re also inexperienced.”

“Hey!” She could picture the indignant expression that accompanied that outburst. “I’m not inexperienced . I’ve done, stuff , before.”

“Really? What stuff, with who?”

“Does it really matter?” She felt him shifting around. Maybe she should tease him less, but he made it too fun. “Besides, I know you haven’t either.”

“Yeah. Not a lot of time, being a General’s apprentice and all that. There’s a war going on, you know.”

He laughed, and the sound was throaty, unexpected. Warmth bloomed in her chest.

“Quite the pair,” he said. She felt him lean back on his elbows and imagined his face tipped up to the ceiling, eyes closed, those long black lashes resting on his cheekbones.

“Your name,” she said, because she couldn’t bear the silence anymore. “What does it mean?”

“Hmm? Lux or Bonteri?”

How odd it felt to hear someone say their own name aloud, holding it up for examination like an exotic animal. “Both.”

“Well,” he said slowly. She could tell he found her shift in topic strange, but didn’t want to burst her bubble. “Bonteri is Onderronian. Bon for good and theri for late summer. Together, Bonteri means the good time of year before the harvest.”

“And Lux?”

“Light,” he said. “It’s not Onderronian, it’s something older. I can’t remember where, but my father picked it.”

“Late summer light,” Ahsoka said softly.

“Yeah. What about yours? Ahsoka Tano?”

She liked her name in his mouth. “ Ahsoka means without sorrow. Someone told me it was because I didn’t cry when I was born like babies are supposed to. Tano is one of the lakes on Shili. My family was probably from there.”

“Without sorrow, like, with joy instead?”

“More like... calm. Too calm .”

“I’ve noticed that about you,” he said drily, and she thunked her head down next to his and said what about it? And he said wouldn’t you like to know and she pushed his face gently away and he caught her hand and then they were wrestling playfully on the bed. She got her knee up to his gut and said I’d be careful what I did next if I were you and he said oh yeah ? With a cocky catch in his voice before he pulled her in.

And they were kissing again.

Kissing Lux in the dark made her feel electric and alive. Everything about him, from the soft hair at the nape of his neck to the curve of his ear, had been familiar by sight in daylight, but became thrilling and intimate when traced beneath her mouth and hands. She was learning about him all over again, like how he shivered under her touch when she brought her lips to the warm spot of skin beneath his jaw where his pulse beat.

“That feels good,” he whispered, the words humming resonant inside her ear.

She nipped him there, gently, and he groaned.

“Ahsoka--!”

“Sorry,” she managed. “Should have asked.”

“‘s ok. But, here, hold on.”

They shifted around so he could sit up. Still close, body heat still mingling.

“So,” Lux said.

Ahsoka’s mouth was a little dry. In the pause between the heady rushes of kissing him, warm embarrassment at her own forwardness crept over her neck. To stave off the worst of it, she focused on the physical sensation of her own interlocked hands. Feeling the calluses on her palms, the scars on her knuckles, reminding herself that her body was real and hers. “So, what?”

“Ahsoka, I... I just want to make sure I’m doing this right,” he said, and she had to close her eyes against the aching sincerity. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you.”

Chivalrous, she thought, but misplaced. “You aren’t,” she assured him. “I want this. Trust me, I would tell you if I didn’t.”

“Okay,” he said, and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. May I?” He gestured to her coat, which she realized, belatedly, she was still wearing.

“Yeah,” she said, and opened her arms to let him undo the laces, watching his face, brows furrowed, fingers trembling a little as he slid the knots of cord off the buttons.

Silently, she helped him out of his, and pushed herself up in the bed, legs dangling off the edge.

He came to her, gently spread her knees so he stood between her legs, and put his hands on her hips. Though she was still wearing fur-lined leggings, she felt as though the space between his hands and her bare thighs was nonexistent, like she could feel every ridge of his hands, every fingerprint.

“Ahsoka,” he said, and then leaned forward, almost collapsing against her, his mouth pressed to her collarbone, so she felt the word as well as heard it, “ please ,” and this was her undoing. She might have been able to stop herself before, but this simple word, whispered into her skin, pushed the gates wide open. “Please, just—how much are you okay with?”

A little clumsily and with some wiggling, she shed the last layers of clothing until she was naked before him, cold but for the spots where his hands touched her. “All of it,” she said, and he looked as if he wanted to swallow her whole, his eyes wide and his lips parted in something like shock.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, a little deliriously, and her laugh was shaky as she mumbled “so are you.”

And he was. Tumbled hair and smooth marble skin and the dimple in his chin. White teeth and those huge gray eyes. She tugged him onto the bed, straddled his hips, letting his hands work their way up and down her body as she explored his arms, his sides, tracing swirling patterns between his hollow ribs and over his chest. Her heart was racing with the knowledge that he was there and naked and so close to her and she had never been like this with another person, never been so vulnerable or so intimate.

Inexpertly and slow, they shuffled their bodies back and forth, sliding up and down, hands on legs and legs around hips and bare chests touching until they were so close and there was a spot that felt just right— and she slid down, legs spread, at the same time he tilted his hips up and he was inside of her, and she gasped at the sudden change and the deep, immersive pleasure.

Her senses were heightened; she felt everything, the blanket scratching her knees, the cold air on her breasts, the coarse hair at the base of where they connected; she heard his faint exhalation of shock and pleasure combined, felt the muscles of his stomach tensing; she could smell the soft scent of sleep and taste his kiss still on her tongue, along with the hot blood that felt jagged at the back of her throat, like when she ran too fast for too long, only this sensation was all too welcome.

And him inside her . Opening something she had never thought could open this way, a stretch that left her aching in the most fulfilling sense, bringing tears to her eyes so fiercely she had to bite down on her lip to keep them in. It was every pleasurable sensation she had ever taught herself to ignore. Like biting into ripe fruit and licking the juice that ran down her wrists, like the warm indulgent feeling of falling back asleep in the morning, like a full belly, the burning in her muscles after a fight, like the bite of lightsabers through metal. It was physical and raw and heady and so good she wanted to cry out. It was so much and so intense as she rocked up and down on him, the muscles in her thighs cramping with this new use.

Lux’s eyes were closed, lids flickering. The dark circles beneath his eyes were lilac in the moonlight, the hollow of his throat pulsing. Their bodies together were one creature, and at some point she ceased to be her and he ceased to be him and they were just two halves of one body, complete and together. She felt herself around him and he felt himself inside of her, the feeling building, pressure building up, the incredibly overpowering intensity, so much that it was taking over him. He was forgetting to breathe. He thought he might be in love, watching her face tipped back in the moonlight, her sharp, angular features relaxed for once, mouth opened with pleasure, and as he thought it, realized it, he was spilling into her, and the vastness of the feeling was so huge that he cried out, clutching her thighs so hard he knew there would be bruises in the morning. She rode out the wave, head tipped back, and when it was over she moaned and both their bodies went slack at the same time.

His breath was coming in short, sharp pants. He was trembling. She took him in her arms, still inside her, pressed their chests together, encircling him, hands rubbing clumsy circles onto his back.

“Oh God, was it okay--I didn’t mean to--”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, “I’m good, I’m protected.”

“Thank fuck,” he said, and collapsed, still inside her, pressing their bodies together. She lay still, feeling his heart pounding against her ribs, his deep, ragged breaths slowly returning to normal, the warmth inside her slowly spreading up to her stomach.

Some strange impulse took over, and she smoothed his hair back from his forehead, marveling at the little details of his face, the strong chin, the delicate skin of his closed eyelids, the long, dark lashes. He nuzzled into her a bit, and she drew him closer, relishing his murmur of protest at the overstimulation.

“We should--clean up--” he said, and she nodded before remembering he couldn’t see her.

“Yeah,” she said, but the contact was too sweet, too warm, and the air outside the bed was freezing.

Regretting it only a little, she reached out a hand and willed a nearby washcloth--a scrap cut off a faded towel that had been washed to shreds--towards her. It flew neatly into her hand, and she brought it down. He looked up, eyebrows raised in surprise, before he remembered--right, Jedi.

“When you said you’re... safe,” Lux began hesitantly.

She understood. “There’s a... medical thingy,” she said.

“It’s called a ‘thingy’?” he asked.

“Shut up,” she said, and he laughed. “Here,” she said, drawing his hands to her gently. She pressed them to the spot right below her navel. “Feel the ridge there?”

His fingers traced around the medical device that had been implanted there. It was simple, not too invasive, just a shot, a mild ache and a bruise that had lasted a week, and then she was safe, the round disc the size of her smallest fingernail sending off pulses that would counteract her body’s hormonal cycle.

“Did it hurt?” he asked. His hands were so gentle. Her throat closed up for a moment.

“No,” she said.

“Did I hurt you?” He really seemed concerned. “You were... moaning a lot.”

“It felt good,” she said.

“Oh.”

She swallowed hard, suddenly awkward. “Did you feel it? The—I was sort of—I could feel what you were feeling. Like I was inside you.”

There was a pause. “I mean, that seems only fair. Seeing as I was inside you too.”

“Mentally? Or—oh, you meant physically.”

“You couldn’t tell??”

“Stop making jokes,” she said with pretend seriousness. “It complicates my view of you as flat and literal.”

“Sorry,” he said, sounding almost sincere. “Well, it’s just like what you did before, right? You picked up on my thoughts when you tried. Maybe being—intimate—together just made it involuntary. You can’t still feel what I’m feeling, can you?”

“No,” she said. It had been different—she had been within his mind, seeing herself from the outside, for a moment she had felt what it was like to be him, albeit in relation to herself, but she didn’t know how to describe this and didn’t want to make him nervous or uncomfortable so she settled on “you’re right. Maybe that happens every time for Jedi. It’s not something our instructors ever talked about.”

“Did the Jedi teach sex education?” Lux asked.

“Oh cripes, did they! You wouldn’t believe what Master Ki Adi Mundi said this one time…”

He snuggled into her, one arm encircling her as she talked, and they spent the few hours before the dawn talking until the drowsy night overtook them and they slept.

And there would be time in the morning to think about it, to regret it, but that was a red dawn away, and sunrise was a promise best kept waiting.

Notes:

my ancient laptop finally died so this was all written on my tiny cracked phone screen. it’s also been about six months in the making so forgive the complete lack of editing….. idfk what this is. i’ve been very Offline and Hibernating because of things like Current Events and the State Of The World. but fuck it dude, i decided to post this because i think the world needs more sincerely crafted art even if the art in question is just star wars porn on ao3. thanks for sticking with, your comments and support have all been so heartwarming and i love reading the stuff you guys have to say <3

Chapter 5: --How tell--

Notes:

hello again, it's been a long time

breaking from tradition with a tiny chapter because if i don't post something now i never will

Dawn did not rise so much as rupture. the blood-soaked sun clawed its way up the horizon, washing the stark white world in crimson. Ahsoka felt its ascent in her chest, pounding with anxiety, and she knew in her bones this morning would bring death.

Quietly, she shook Lux awake. they dressed in silence. He hesitated before they left the tent, looking as though he wanted to say something, reach for her, but she tilted her head and the moment passed. And all she could think about was the anxiety pulsing through her body, in her throat, the taste of death.

…

Later, when Ahsoka tried to recall it, the morning had shattered into fragments. Snapshots of moments and the rush of emotion that accompanied them.

A fleet of Mandalorians descending from the sky like omens of death, perching on the rooves like nesting crows.

Tryla stumbling towards Pieter, catching his arms only to stiffen as the black tip of a saber burst through her chest. Slumping to the ground.

 

Save them, Ahsoka.

 

The village in flames. A spear shooting through the body of a Mandalorian, Ahsoka’s heightened awareness registering the life force fading from his body, the heat on her cheeks from the fires, Pieter’s shaking breaths.

Tryla’s body cooled on the ground behind her, her final words a gasp that rang in Ahsoka’s ears.

 

Save my people.

 

Ara crying out as her clothes caught fire, the ends of her hair.

Ahsoka’s staff connecting with the side of Jan Ira’s helmet with a sickening crack . Ahsoka knew her strength, the velocity of her weapon. The woman’s spinal cord had snapped. From the way she dropped, Ahsoka was certain she was dead.

Viszla’s dark saber slicing her makeshift weapon in half. Steel-cored ropes biting into her wrists, her waist, her face slamming into the ground.

Lux’s face, distress as he reached for her.

And the sun dissolved behind the iron-colored storm clouds that encircled the sky.

…

Twin sabers flashed through the air as she rose with a sweep that sliced the throats of four Mandalorians. This, Ahsoka thought, is what she was made for. An instrument of death.

She hadn’t been able to save the Ming Po. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Instead she would fight, because that was what she did. She poured her grief, her fury, her pain into each sweep of her sabers, but also the compassion she had felt for Ara, for Tryla, her urge to protect them, the strength and certainty that attached her to her morals. She was a Jedi, and this is what she did. She fought alongside her grief; the love with no place to go.

Bearing down on Pre Viszla. Slashing and hacking. 

Lux gunning the speeder back to the ship.

Trading blows with Bo-Katan. Kicking her, the woman tumbling off the side.

Her pulse started to slow as the ship came into their sights.

Twin footfalls crunching in the snow as she and Lux entered the ship, Artoo chirping mechanically behind them.

…

“I can’t go with you, Ahsoka.”

So, she thought. This was how it ended. Pressed against the glass of the escape pod and wracked in pain. It was unfair how beautiful he looked as he abandoned her.

“You... you know I can’t.”

“But we could try,” she said, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice. And she didn’t know why she wanted this, wanted it to work, so badly, but it ached to let him go. “Try to change things together.”

“We make a pretty good team,” Lux said, and his eyes were soft. “Don’t we?”

Oh, this was bitter.

“Don’t worry. We’ll meet again. I promise”

It was funny, she believed him. The conviction in his eyes.

Following some strange impulse, she raised her hand to touch the glass.

He seemed to understand, without words. He placed his hand next to hers. 

“Be careful, Lux.”

As the escape pod jettisoned, her heart cracked a little. The half-baked thoughts that flitted across her mind had been just that. Of course he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Whatever had passed between them on Carlacc had done just that—passed. Whatever the future held in store for them, it wouldn’t be the same.

She would just have to go on living.