And that concludes the nights deep and meaningfuls.

And I just made myself cry at the end... (I'm not sure if someone should admit that or not but I am proudly. )

Didn't just make yourself cry

I'm curious though, this 'paying for the sins of the father' thread, with Torian and then with the General's children...curious to see the outcome.

Didn't just make yourself cry

I'm curious though, this 'paying for the sins of the father' thread, with Torian and then with the General's children...curious to see the outcome.

But my BH was making me sad

@ Milani, I think we should all give her none stabbing or violent hugs.

And yes, I am aware (and so is she) that Torian would entirely hate that idea and nothing else she could do (maybe short of killing him or Corridan) could test their relationship like that would. Thus, (not really sure if this is a spoiler but your choice)

-----

The start of dawn...

In the morning, there are numerous comments about Corridan's black eye.

When people ask, he merely laughs and loudly exclaims something about 'testing the new blood'. Torian watches me suspiciously from across the room as he talks to his friends. I sit alone on a tall crate against a wall that has a close exit and view of the entire hall. It gives me a clear view over everyone's heads and I'm able to watch the interactions of the Mando'ad as I clean my armour. I also check my rockets and grappling hook. I've decided not to use any other weapons today. I will only use myself.

I watch Torian and his friends now and again but I don't join them. Never cultivated a skill for 'making friends'. My ability for social interactions is limited to seducing people and killing them. They weren't always exclusive things but the first was always shortly by the second. Observational learning will be more effective then research and I'm not willing to try practice.

Later, Torian breaks away and comes to me. He asks about Corridan's eye as I look down on him from my perch.

I shrug. 'He wanted to see me fight. You know I can't resist a challenge.' Torian nods and his lips twitch.

'You won?'

'You doubt me?' I ask rebuke with indignation. I jump down smoothly and he unnecessarily catches me by the waist, placing my gently on the ground.

'No. Just wanted to know how easy you went on him.'

'Very. Black eye is the worst he's got though I also suspect his got a large bruise on his lower back and behind his left knee which he is successfully hiding from everyone.' Torian doesn't turn to look at Corridan to agree with my appraisal. He only stares at me as intently as usual.

I lean against the crate and he moves closer. 'Still a rather good fighter. I didn't flatter him though by allowing him to get a hit. But-'

Torian cuts me off with a kiss and I stand dumbly even when he draws away. My lips still burn and I feel dizzy in a way only Torian could ever achieve.

'Was that for anything in particular?' I ask as my body finally regains the ability to move and air returns to my empty lungs. I move my hands to his waist but I can't meet his intense stare, so I look to the ground to my left and trace the cracks in the tiles with my eye.

'Jorcu ni kar'taylir gar darasuum.' Because I love you. He moves a hand to my cheek and turns my face to his like I have done to him so many times. He kisses me again with more force. 'Jorcu gar mech'la.' Because your beautiful. He kisses my nose, forehead, cheek, and then lips again. 'Jorcu ni ures* gar.' Because I missed you.

I don't know what to say to Torian's forward words so I only kiss him back.

'Clearing out in ten, Caderas,' Corridan says with a laugh after he walks past us.

We break away and Torian grins down at me with quiet and complete happiness.

'He's got a point,' I remark. I kiss Torian's chin. 'So, what's today's wager, riduur? I'm feeling 8 to 10. Thinking you might do better to impress.'

'You're on, Cyare.' He smiles down at me.

'Usual bet?' I raise me arm and fist.

'Usual bet.'

We cross wrists.

----

* I couldn't find a Mando'a word for 'miss' so I went with 'ures' which is 'without' or 'lacking'.

*om nom nom's your story* mm so delicious. *om nom nom*

:o

Twenty minutes later...

Torian and I are in Corridan's assault group.

Front lines. Standard attack. We come in the front. Others from back and sides. Meet in the middle and half will head for the politician's chambers while the other half will clear out the rest of the upstairs.

It's a small group. Only forty. All teams have ten each. Jogo is not in our squad. Corridan is a smart man.

'Champion,' accosts an older woman in our squad, 'where are you weapons?' We continue to advance on the entrance, still hidden from attack by our own defences.

I hold my arms wide form my body a grin. 'They're in me.'

She looks at me curiously but doesn't ask any more questions. We advance on the lines and I notice how beautiful the rays of light look as they shine down through thin, morning clouds. It's going to be a nice day.

'Jurkadir!' Corridan calls.

I laugh and sprint as fast as I can to the Republic soldiers. I extend my blades and turret and summersault the remaining metres to the soldiers as they pointlessly fire at me and my comrades. I cut the necks of the soldiers I land behind them and continue down there ranks in that fashion as Torian joins me at my side. A few seconds later, the other melee Mando's join us as the cross fire rages around us. Melee is to take the middle while ranges takes the sides.

Torian fights well. He doesn't take risks to impress. Doesn't need to. We fight as a coordinated duo and take down a large section of the first two lines together. We don't need to give verbals anymore. We just know. I laugh occasionally. Never thought fighting in a team could be fun.

We make it to the middle while the side and back clean up the ones fleeing or taking a final and futile stand. The team begins to heal injuries. I don't have any.

'Good job, Caderas. Glad to have you along,' Corridan congratulates as he places his hands on our shoulders. 'Your wife has some impressive weaponry hidden in there, Torian.'

'Don't I know it,' Torian says with a shrug and something close to as sly smile.

'Said it yourself, Corridan Ordo, I'm a woman full of surprises.' I tap the side of my head and he laughs. Torian looks at me with a pleased expression and Corridan removes his hands while saying something about not wanting to be in any cross fire.

Corridan looks around and only dead soldiers can be seen. Clean up crew is done. Only have to wait for the other squads to reach us.

'Don't get too comfortable. Not over yet. Stay alert,' he tells us with the stern voice of a man of command as Torian take my small hand in his gloved one. Torian nods and remains solemn.

'I don't need to tell you to have fun,' Corridan says with a chuckle before walking off to speak t the others, his eyes constantly scanning the large hall for any sign of an enemy. The others eyes only remain on Torian and I. Seems I'm the newest circus freak on a small back-water planet.

But I'm still smiling. I ignore their suspicion and impressed looks I recieve and focus on Torian.

'Count?'

'Twenty seven, Cyare,' Torian replies with pride.

'Kandosii,' I compliment with a smile and lightly kiss his lips. 'But I still win.'

'Your count?'

'Thirty two,' I reply and kiss his cheek. 'You owe me dinner now.' Torian only smiles in reply.

I hear mumbles of things in Mando'a like 'I thought fifteen was good' and another 'lucky arue'tal.' Torian frowns again and his eyes grow grave and his stature rigid and formal.

I turn and glare at the man that said the last one. He tries to sneer back but as I hold up my knife dripping in blood, he becomes scared and looks away. I leer at him and look back to Torian.

Torian is bleeding from a shallow cut on his forearm. I don't do him the dishonour or embarrassment of treating it like I normally would. I merely motion to it and he nods and begins to do it himself. I make a show of cleaning my knives as I sit next to him.

'Not the end yet, Cyare,' Torian mentions casually.

'No. But there aren't enough up there,' I point to the ceiling, 'to allow you anything near a comeback.'

'We'll see,' is his simple reply as he heals his arm with a faint smile. I don't get to make a retort as the other squads arrive.

Corridan briefs on the remainder of the plan. No causalities so far. It's even easier from here.

----

If you get too excited, Hoyden, you might just get disappointed...

Around midnight...

Second last round. Then, it's the final round. Try not to think about my next opponent. Guess my Voss vision might come true after all.

We are in the middle of a large, broken dance room. The roof is half collapsed and walls are missing. Just another building on Correllia really. The Mando'ad stand around the outside of the oval that has been roughly cleared for the fighting. Some stand on giant piles of wall or sit on large pieces of broken statues. Small fires are splattered around and between spectators.

Torian watches next to Corridan and his friends. Corridan is talking to him, his hand on his shoulder, and his other across his own stomach. Corridan and Torian had just had their bout. Torian was the victor. Pride doesn't begin to express Torian's emotions. But his eyes never leave me. I can feel an unforgiving anger coming from though I'm not the target. Hopefully, I'll get through my entire life without being the object of such raw spite.

And my stern eye lingers on his watching form, I notice Corridan's hand on his shoulder a show of friendship but a restraint as Torian's tense body pulls against it. And seeing him ready to fight for me only makes me want to run to him. Kids just too irresistibly sweet. Guess he's my spice. I only hope I never have to experience the agonizing convulsions from abstinence of my wonderful drug.

I draw my eyes back to my opponent. This tournament isn't to the death. Just until one is knocked unconscious or calls 'kyr'. But accidents do happen... I think with a wry smile as I stare into the pathetic face of Jogo.

Only some Mando'ad enter after every hunt or battle. Those that have no watch duties or are willing to test themselves and their honour. These aren't like normal challenges. Rules are universal. Weapons are chosen by each opponent for their opponent. Classically, sticks are drawn to decide who chooses first. Usually if a person chooses a ranged weapon for their opponent, their opponent does the same for them. Same for melee and hand to hand. Not a written rule. More a matter of unspoken honour.

Any weapon present can be chosen. And there are a lot. Some are new and high tech, others are from ancient civilisations that are gone or merely adapted to the new tech. I couldn't believe some of things they had. Rivalled the collection of my tutors. Lost. But still came close. I doubt any here can fight with even half of them. I can fight exceptionally with half. Decently with almost the rest. And amazingly with a few. Not boasting. Fact. I had my favourites. Seems ludicrous that Mandalorians transport this many weapons with them to every op just for the celebration days. Seems a waste of time and resources. And very presumptuous.

Jogo circles me slowly. I go through the movements as well at first. He moves the large war hammer from side to side. But then I don't move. I close my eye and concentrate on his the sound of his feet. His balance. Breathing. Pulse.

'Come on, Jogo.' I hold out my hand and curl my finger in twice; a blatant challenge to attack. 'Make your move. Make your stand. Make your win. Ha! Like you can.'*

I think I like this way of sorting our differences than a late night ambush. Corridan can't interrupt the inevitable this time.

Jogo only sneers in reply. It twists his stern, plain features into something ugly. He doesn't stand a chance, I think as he readies to attack.

I can feel when he is about make the first move before he does. He takes a step forward and does a practice swing. I jump forward onto my hands, my jump clearing his hammer. Spin around on them like they were feet and I bring my foot down on Jogo's back, and continue the motion, using his back a board for a flip back to land behind his stumbling body. It was only a moment. But the cheers it causes are defeaning.

If my hit had been to his head, he would be dead. There is blood seeping through his practice armour. It is just a layer of hard foam, not durasteel. I wear one similar. I know he won't hit me once. I'm confident and good. Not dumb.

There is a dent from my hit. I am using an ancient weapon. Assassins of old made weapons for the feet they often kept bare. They are pieces of padded metal that span the width of an average foot. On them, at differing intervals, are either long razors or tall spikes similar to spear heads. The weapon is placed between the toes and sits by itself. No need to grip with toes. There can be just five or ten spikes on each. The spikes can stick out from between the toes or up, deadly blades pointing to the sky.

Ten spikes is more flexible. Enables you to kick and do damage in a wider array of kicks. It was used for hand to hand combat, when acrobatics and kicking was as relied upon as much as the use of hands and ranged weapons were rare clumsy things.

I was surprised to see it amongst the weapons of the Mando'ad. I hadn't seen one since I left Tython. They gave me free reign of the weapons and training rooms. I used to train with the weapons in between missions. Was expected. Though that's not why I did it. I wanted to be the best at what I was being forced to do. I wanted to be a master. Perfect. And I wanted the power and skill. Natural for anyone who spent over a decade being defenceless.

I like these particularly. They have an ancient name that is long forgotten and lost. They were called spear toes in basic or at least that was label the Organisation gave them. I thought most of these weapons were buried or lost across the galaxy, or whatever happens to old things. But these are in good condition.

The Mando'ad were surprised when Jogo chose it for my weapon. Almost a dishonourable thing. To some with a stricter code, it was. He didn't know I had mastered such a thing. He just thought it was the hardest and most obscure by far of the weapons. Not sure any of them even knew what they were. So I got my revenge. I chose a war hammer for him; a weapon favoured by races such as Gamoreans that rely on their natural dexterity to other attacks allowing them to fight in close range. And their brute force, of course. They are slow and heavy to wield, not flexible or allowing agility. And weak against attacks that are.

Mando'ad were confused by my choice too: a melee against hand to hand. If you don't know any better, would seem the melee would have the upper hand. Especially if it was a shorter, lighter weapon. As I fight and twirl around his lumbering form, I wonder who his choice was trying to humiliate more: me or Torian. Either way, it isn't happening. If he wants to play, then I will play.

'To take me out you must like a man, Jogo. You've yet to prove that you can,' I taunt as I begin the circling dance again.

'Least I don't fight like a aruetyc moisture farmer, arue'tal riduur,' is Jogo's low reply.

'Is that really how you want to talk to Mandalore's daughter?' I ask mockingly.

He grimaces but doesn't get a chance to respond as I go for a low cut and shallowly cut his ankle. He dodged the worst but the heavy hammer hampered his ability to jump it. However, he loses slight balance but tries to hide the fumble and I take the opening to bring my left fist down on his neck, springing off it land behind him and quickly turn to bring my foot down into his back.

'The flinch in your eyes, calls you bluff,' I call I flip back to stand on my hands.

He growls and clumsily attacks me. I laugh and dodge it easily, provoking him into further rage.

I spin around him, doing flashy acrobatics as he swings and jabs in practiced but slow moves, his cut ankle slowly him down further. I move fluidly and bend in ways most can't. Sometimes, I walk and jump on hands as if they had always been my feet, springing into leaps that jab at his torso, legs, arms and back. At first, they cheered my every hit. An underdog coming up against great odds. Now, they sit in an awestruck silence. They realise he never had a chance.

Torian beams pride under his serious face. He watches me. My every movement. Every part of me as I bend and twist. I am constantly aware of his gaze. He is learning. Wondering. Wanting. Never really extended myself like this in battle for a long time. Don't need to with a blaster. Feels good. Wish it was against a better opponent. Almost makes me miss Tython.

Eventually, I end it. I hit his back again. Hard. He falls to his hands and knees. I twist my out stretched foot so the blades are against the back of his neck. He calls 'kyr.'

Something whispers to me to kill him now. I stare long and hard at the artery on his neck. There is silence in the arena. I look to Torian. He slightly shakes his head.

So I walk. I don't help Jogo to his feet. And we don't shake. I just walk. I won. And he lost in every way imaginable.

I step out into the cool night and move to a dark corner, out of the guards view. I will rest for now. Then, it's the next and final round. Against Torian.

I smile dryly. This will be more than a little interesting.

*

-----

I stand and stare at the choice of weapons.

I think about what to choose for him. All the while, I listen to him talking to his friends. Jogo has disappeared. I'm not good at 'making friends'. Will try what I've learnt from observation once the drinking starts. It doesn't start until the end of the competition. The winner has the first drink. Not much of a reward, but they see gaining honour and status amongst Mando'ad a reward in itself: testing yourself against your peers and the best a invaluable prize.

Torian has always fought in them. Never won till recently. Only ever got to the second last round. Still pretty good. He was already an exceptional fighter. I just helped him realize his incredible potential.

Not sure what to choose for him if I'm first. Torian has specialised in mêlée, mainly staffs and other two handed weapons. Choosing this will give myself the highest challenge but might appear like I'm going weak since he's my husband. Also, defeat in a specialised weapon might lower their opinion as it would be expected for a victory or close win. It's a hard choice.

I already decided I would win. That was an easy decision. I tell myself my confidence in a sure win is well placed. His forms aren't perfect yet. But you know he has what you don't.

There would be no real victory or honour for him in me fighting to lose. And he would know. And I would know. He won last time. I still have a place of honour to earn. My other titles only get me so far.

But when it comes down to it, it's so repulsively simple: I like to win. A lot. Nothing else matters.

Right?

I loved them both. I like the first kiss scene best, but I adore the part in the second where both draw their blasters and shoot at Skadge.

I loved the kissing scenes. I agree that her taking the initiative makes more sense. Love his passionate response. I do like aspects of the alt version though as well--pulling the guns together on Skadge without breaking the kiss, him pressing her against the wall...

And that you got rid of that soul patch on his chin.

Trying not to rush through this fic too fast. Don't want to run out of posts to read. But can't help it. Sometimes I even forget to breathe while reading, I'm so engrossed.

I loved the kissing scenes. I agree that her taking the initiative makes more sense. Love his passionate response. I do like aspects of the alt version though as well--pulling the guns together on Skadge without breaking the kiss, him pressing her against the wall...

Thanks!

And that you got rid of that soul patch on his chin.

I know. I love Torian and all but... that needed to go in my opinion.

Trying not to rush through this fic too fast. Don't want to run out of posts to read. But can't help it. Sometimes I even forget to breathe while reading, I'm so engrossed.

You just made me so happy I'm speechless...

I'm glad your enjoying it. I enjoy writing it so it makes feel really happy to know when others/that others are enjoying it just as much.

-----

Ok, this is slightly AU because Gault isn't actually back yet but I had to post it and it won't fit in anywhere post end game. Also, since I went more for humour her personality is slightly off twice. Apologies if Gault's ever is as well. I was going to make it Mako instead of Gault but that was too complicated with the whole 'I hate your guts, you man stealing *****' thing happening on both sides. And Blizz wouldn't of worked and let's not even get into why Skadge wouldn't of worked.

I wrote it for the short fic weekly challenge thread for the Zombie Prompt: Hidden Talents but I got too nervous to post it there so I decided to just put it here.

So since it has nothing to do with anything, feel free to skip it. Of course, you know that curiosity will be too strong and you will have to read it, especially now I've said that (it's a Magician's Nephew situation). So enjoy

A bes'bev just seemed like the instrument she would play if she did play an instrument.

Will be posting the BH/Torian fight soon. Look out for it

Early apologies and excuses:

Half an hour later...

We circle each other slowly.

Torian's face is severely stern. Almost a scowl. But not quite. Torian has been catching up to me in competitions. His edge balances my enhancements and leaves us only experience and luck. I must not underestimate him. So I don't laugh or smile. I am as serious as he is. This is not training. And for hopefully the first and last time, he is my enemy.

I will not hold back.

My weapon feels heavy in my hands as I twirl it around my body. Two sticks attached on one end by a short chain. I switch hands and it blurs before the eyes. You must never let the movement stop. It is automatic. I don't look. I just stare long and hard into his eyes. Doesn't hurt to not see love there. Or pride. Or awe. Time for that after.

Torian did not take long choosing. Guess it was a process of elimination; blasters, and other ranged weapons, were out of the question. He knows I have a targeting system, not that I rely on it. Weapons relying on speed and acrobatics were also now a 'no'. That left other melee weapons. Only question was heavy or light, long or short. He went with short and light. Interesting choice for him to make. Far from my favourite weapon. Doubt he knew that though. Proficient but not skilled enough to brag about it.

He chose first. So I was free to choose mêlée as well. I chose a short pole axe. It has a long head that has been blunted for these tournaments. The head takes half the pole as the bottom of the blade curves down and past the small base to almost touch the pole at the middle point. It can be wielded with two hands or one. I can tell he hasn't used it before. A small advantage.

Eventually, I make the first move. My weapon continues to blur as I quickly twirl them from one side to another. But as I was going to feign one way and then attack on the other, Torian blocks me. Dodges and gets under my defences. He hits my right side. Hard. Mando'ad cheer loudly. I look into his eyes for a split second as I drop into a roll and he passes me. I am shocked and pleased by what I see.

It's satisfaction. It comes from getting a hit, the first hit, that came from a knowledge of me and my fighting. He knew which way I would go before I did. The force of how in sync and how deep our understanding is, is a hard, warm blanket that is uncomfortable but pleasing. It didn't occur to me that since we fight as one and side by side he would know my actions. That I have been training him. A stupid over sight on my part. He isn't a stranger. My blood swirls faster as I think for a moment that he might actually win.

But this can work two ways.

It's his turn to come at me. I dodge and attack before he continues the move. I hit the back his left leg and across his shoulder blades hard.

And then a strange mind game begins as we exchange equal blows. We know the other knows that they can predict what the other might do, so we predict what they will predict based on their first prediction and make a counter attack that they may have predicted the other would make based on the prediction of a prediction of what their attack was. We both take hits. Neither is soft. We aren't holding back.

At some stage, our fight becomes more mental than physically. We watch the subtle shifts of movement and weight and neither ever really begins to make an attack. When we do, it is sudden in an attempt to not be as predictable, to take what small element of surprise there is. The Mando'ad cheer at every hit. I don't know who for. And I don't think they do either. They just like a show.

After a long while when the first signs of Torian tiring are showing, I let my thoughts go. And so does he. We dance an ancient and deadly dance. Everything else melts away. All I hear is his heart and movements. No more cheering Mandos. No walls. Just an infinitely wide space that extends as far as I can imagine. It is only us. He dodges, bends and jumps as I twirl, duck and sidestep, twisting my torso on impossible angles while continuing to twirl my weapon. I don't tire. I'm enjoying this. And I don't want it to end.

The moment I think that, my face yields into a fierce grin an electricity sparks between us. The heated friction of our early spars returns and I feel the same exhilarated glee. Torian looks into my eyes and his lips begin to spasm into a smile while his instincts tell him to frown and concentrate.

I see a break in his defences as his focus falters for a moment. But I don't take it. There will be more to come. I just want to savour now.

But eventually he begins to tire more. I think over an hour has passed. Not quite two. So I end it, before the breaks in his defences become too obvious and the Mando's know I am not taking every hit and victory I can. But more than that, I just don't want this dance and this feeling to end.

Torian jabs to where I had been standing a moment earlier. But I summer salted back then doubly forward to land behind him. I hit his back hard with one of the swinging sticks. Then one leg. And the other.

He coughs and falls to his hands and knees.

'Kyr!' The hoarse word rings through the silence.

I slowly stop the turning of my weapon as he rolls onto his back. I drop my weapon and grin down at him. I hold out my hand.

'Copaani gaan?' Need a hand? He smiles back and nods once. His face is flushed red from the exercise, it makes his pink scars appear like white tridents, and his blue eyes shine. He's so alive.

I pull him to his feet. 'Jate akaanir, ner cabur.' Good fight, my guardian. We cross wrists.

'Vore, Cyare.' And then we kiss. But he breaks away too soon and it leaves me frozen for a moment.

Torian takes a step back from me and holds my dry, right hand in his and raises it above our heads. Suddenly, there are Mando'ad around us in an oval shape and we stand in the centre. My mind is back in the building. Reality has returned but the strange dream dance still lingers, slowly slipping away and leaving me in a world a little less full of life.

The Mando'ad all cheer: 'kandosii!'

We have both earned honour tonight. Corridan brings out a bottle of ale. I scull it down in one and smash it on the ground. The sound is lost amongst the ringing cheers.

'Oya!' I cheer it loud and fierce.

The others reply in a deafening chorus. And in this moment, I know what it is like to feel part of something. Belong to a group of others. It is just a moment. A fleeting thing that will not last till dawn. But it's memory will live with me always.

Question for you. I am on the part of the story where she and Torian are on Voss. She seems more comfortable with him. But when he was removing her shirt the one time, she pulled back, yet after that it almost sounded liked they were rather intimate.

Have they.....yet (at the point that they are on Voss)?

Om nom nom Torian. I logged in to my BH the other day and just sat on the Fleet, clicking him over and over again, cus lol dat voice. @.@

My favorite is when he comes back and says "Ready"---ooooh so deep and growly. *swoons*

But yeah. I'm guilty of that as well. I REALLY wish we could have more converstaions with the love interests--or even just replay the conversations without having to re-roll. I was taken aback when the last conversation with him was the last conversation.

I still don't like that some sources cite him being 19. So young. But I am feeling a little better, having read more about Mando culture--how their coming of age is at 13 and are generally married at 16. So at 19, no wonder he is a bit defensive about being called "kid." To the Mando's he's an old bachellor.

Question for you. I am on the part of the story where she and Torian are on Voss. She seems more comfortable with him. But when he was removing her shirt the one time, she pulled back, yet after that it almost sounded liked they were rather intimate.

Have they.....yet (at the point that they are on Voss)?

Never mind. Apparently they have.

Just read #179 LOVE the conflicts between Torian and Gault--this one and the other that you wrote.

And is it just me, or is protective, aggressive Torian just hot !?

I liked the games! No disappointment here! Jogo's an idiot. Good to see him stomped into the ground.

Points for the CoN reference lol.

I love how their fight ends up being a chessmatch, and how neither of them let the other win. Warriors with pride, those two - good stuff

My favorite is when he comes back and says "Ready"---ooooh so deep and growly. *swoons*

Mines 'definetly' and 'with you all the way'. Though 'checking my form?' is good too...

I'm glad I'm not the only one that clicks on companions to listen to them.

I still don't like that some sources cite him being 19. So young. But I am feeling a little better, having read more about Mando culture--how their coming of age is at 13 and are generally married at 16. So at 19, no wonder he is a bit defensive about being called "kid." To the Mando's he's an old bachellor.

Yeah, I've read that about Mando's as well but... it is so young! And if he were nineteen there would be an almost ten year age gap between him and my BH and that wouldn't really work. She could never like yet alone love someone that young.

Never mind. Apparently they have.

Yeah, I didn't want to describe anything in detail and more just imply (there's a lot of implying on Corellia ) since I thought that might be inappropriate for this forum. Sorry if my implying wasn't strong enough at the start. You will have no doubt later.

Just read #179 LOVE the conflicts between Torian and Gault--this one and the other that you wrote.

I'm so glad! I like writing them a lot but sometimes I wonder if I do it too much... I'm strangely addicted to writing about Gault and Gault and Torian conflicts. And I like to write the conflicts for the reason you pinpoint so wonderfully below.

And is it just me, or is protective, aggressive Torian just hot !?

I liked the games! No disappointment here! Jogo's an idiot. Good to see him stomped into the ground.

I love how their fight ends up being a chessmatch, and how neither of them let the other win. Warriors with pride, those two - good stuff

I'm glad you weren't disappointed.

-----

'Your fights were impressive.'

He moves closer. Suddenly, everyone else has left and it is us. And I know what this is. I repel against it. I lose the almost unconscious concentration I had on Torian's distant footsteps and words as he speaks to Corridan of something I can't make out. I can't find them again. The Mando is standing close next to me. He is a hard place and the destroyed wall I lean against is too similar to a rock.

Second day of the celebrations. I had been talking to some of the Mando'ad, trying to 'be nice' and 'make friends'. Seemed to be working. There were about five of them. Two were close to Torian. Remembered all their names though. Always make an effort to remember a name. Though, when your brain is half cybernetics it's not that much of an effort at all...

But suddenly, it was just me and him. Kemba he said his name was. Not sure what clan. And it hit me like a sudden wave: his arousal and his advances. I had ignored them. Thought it might be part of 'being nice'. I don't know how I could be so stupid to try to believe it wasn't Gault's idea of 'making friends'.

Torian had left me to talk to them, whispering something in my ear like 'got to work on something with Corridan.' Wish he was here. Despite our bout, he hasn't calmed down. He saw Jogo a while ago. Torian was quick to advance on him but Corridan was looking out for it and stopped Torian before he even got close. Being denied his confrontation only made it worse.

Normally, I would shoot Kemba where he stood. But that might cause more problems than he's worth. Or I would start a fight. Which I know I could definitely win. So I talk instead, while my mind races for a solution that won't shame Torian. For him, I would do anything. Even be on my best, best, best manners. Didn't really even know I had any to make better. I just thought not shooting people was a good start towards having good manners.

So I shrug. 'Not news to me.' I wish I could turn my back on him. Conversation closed. But I can't. So I just stand up and walk to where the drinks are. I pour myself a new glass. I don't turn and look at Kemba. He followed me.

'Wonder what else about you is impressive.' He stands close behind me. Almost pressing up against me. I side step and turn around to face him. I one of my knives and press it into his side. No one notices. I can be subtle when I want. To everyone else, it just looks like we're standing close and talking. Really close.

'Nothing you'll ever get to see or know. Alive or dead. So usenye.' **** off.

He tries to advance some more while moving around the knife. I don't give him the chance. He speaks basic. 'C'mon, you know you want to. Let me show you what a real Mandalorian can do. Arue'tal can't be much to entertain.'

I sneer. 'More than you'll ever be able to. So ne shab'rud'ni'. I press my knife harder. So don't mess with me.

He tries to hold my arm and move it away from him. Though his grip is strong, I am able to break from it and my knife back to his side. I move my hand other to his neck.

'I said. ****. Off.' No one insults my arue'tal. There is only one thing I want more than to cut off his dick at this moment. And it is the one thing stopping me.

Kemba doesn't get a chance to reply. Someone pushes him into the makeshift table. My knife cuts into Kemba's side. I look at the person. And my figurative heart stops.

Torian.

Torian's eyes are filled with pure hatred and rage as he pauses at my side, coldly looking me over to see I'm ok. I sneer at Kemba. He has a hand to his side and blood is seeping through the cracks between his fingers. He is furious. And tries to straightens but it tears the cut open more. I hold up my knife wrist and twist it so the blood catches the light. But this is not my fight anymore.

Torian advances on him. Kemba tries to play tough some more. But doesn't try to straighten. 'Should keep your **** on a shorter leash, arue'tal.'

Torian's punches come hard and fast. Each is an electricity charge through me. I feel a strange, strong thrill. Watching Torian is more satisfying than doing it myself. A thousand times more satisfying.

Torian stops when Kemba falls to the ground. Torian looks down at him. I can hear a thousand retorts going through his mind as his body shakes with heavy breathing and fanatical, scorching rage. But he doesn't speak. He doesn't need to. He spits in Kemba's face and turns to me, taking a few steps closer. We look in each other's eyes and have a silent conversation.

'You ok, Cyare?' He reaches his hand out and touches my shoulder softly.

'Yes.'

'Sorry I left you.' His hand tightens on my shoulder. I don't think him being there would have changed anything. I wasn't really the target of Kemba's advances. These days have made me understand how much Mando'ad will hate someone whose related to a traitor.

'Don't worry, it's ok, ner cabur. I had it under control.' I motion to my knife.

'I know. He's an idiot.' Torian jerks his head in the direction of the bleeding Mando.

I raise my left eye brow. 'You didn't already know that?'

'No.' Torian shakes his head slightly.

'Know now. Thanks for coming.' I give him a small smile.

He nods and then looks to Corridan. I suddenly realise most have stopped talking and are looking at the scene we must be making. They all glance at Corridan. He is looking serious. Eyes subtly shifting from us to Kemba.

Corridan motions to Kemba with his hand and grins. 'Ori'buyce, kih'kovid.' All helmet, no head.

There are some cheers that go up around the room.

Torian is beaming beside me. Strong, angry, proud. But then I lose sight of him in the crowd that rushes around him. I'm happy for him. But a little sad for me. Been left in the cold too many times in the past. I didn't want this dream to end.

----

'Never showed me how flexible you were before.' Torian's breath is warm on my continually cold skin. It makes my neck ache in longing.

I smile into his neck. 'Got to have some secrets.' He stiffens a little. Arms slightly more rigid. I make a sound like a giggle. 'Surprises. I mean surprises.' I laugh as he relaxes.

'Let's find somewhere more private. Show me some more surprises,' he comments back, taking my hand and leading me away.

Torian takes me out of the main body of the camp and into a secluded abandoned house. He moves behind me and gently ties a piece of blue silk around my eyes, careful to make sure I can't see anything. I shiver and resist the instinct to turn and pin him to the ground.

He takes my hand and leads me into the house.

'Stand here,' he quietly calls, excitement lacing his voice.

I nod an assent and I don't move. I hear him move about the room and smell tiingilar and tihaar.

'Can remove it now,' he says from across the room after a few minutes.

I slowly remove it and I stand still for many moments in shock of how my suspicions and imagination fall so far short of reality. Torian stands on the other side of the room and I can only stare at him for many moments before looking around the small room.

He stands in a clean black shirt and pants, no armour in sight. He holds out to me a white flower and gazes at me with smouldering eyes. I glance around the room and see tihaar and tiingilar on a low table surrounded by blankets for seats. The moons let in a little light and the rest is from many small lanterns that litter most horizontal surfaces.

When I don't move, Torian takes a step closer, a look of worry passing across his face. I smile and run to him. I kiss him deeply and take the flower from his hand before he can crush it against me. He wraps his arms around me, his hand pressing into my lower back and his other against my neck to stop me from breaking away. His gentleness disappears.

'Only yours Torian,' I manage to mumble in between kisses as Torian refuses to let me go. He only nods and keeps kissing me.

'As you should be,' he finally replies aggressively before kissing me again. I raise an eyebrow at this but he doesn't notice. I don't mind in this moment.

----

A week or so later...

Tormen calls.

The sound of my holo makes my blood rush faster and the memories of everything we are doing and why come back. For these few days with the Mando'ad, I forgot everything else. And I became part of something more and separate from everything in my past.

But the Mandalorians are preparing to leave. Got a new target. Will be gone in three days. Torian is somewhere with Corridan. They've been with each other in spare moments. Haven't asked what they're doing. I don't keep Torian on that short of a leash. He does the same. No questions asked. Guess this is what trust is.

It gives me time to train alone. Relatively alone. No matter where I go with selected weapons from their stores for the competition, I seem to end up with half the camp watching and almost all the camp when Torian and I train together. But I ignore them and enjoy the free movements of these weapons. I have missed this. And that is a strange, horrifying thing.

Sometimes, if I feel like it my eyes will see a Mando in the crowd and I will beckon them over. I will give them the weapon and show them some basics. Only do it if they have the right spark in their eye; if the weapon calls to them; if a weapon suits them; if it is made to reflect them in every way possible beyond physical. I know what it's like to feel such a connection. It's like it completes a part of you you didn't even know was there, let alone imperfect. It makes you whole and undamaged. And when you use it... it's like freedom. An indescribable, liberal bliss.

I back flip over and over away from my opponent to the holo, wiping my brow as I answer. I don't know why I do. I don't sweat. Another pointless learned behaviour through observation and expectation that I can't break. I guess each movement makes me feel a little more human.

We have the information from Seros' datapad as they've finally decoded it. Tormen sends me coordinates and the plan for boarding the Chancellors ship. Standard boarding procedure with only a few extra twists. Nothing too hard.

I call Torian. He is shirtless and sweating. There's something dark smudged on his face. His hair is swept back and sticking on ends in many places. A wave of lust goes through me but it doesn't remove the odd feeling in my stomach.

I keep my face impassive as I report the news. I want him ready to leave within the hour. It's time for vengeance. I don't think I could make a mightier blow against the Republic.

And that is a sweet, sweet thing.

----

Ok, Torian defending her there - hot. Definitely.

Ooooooh, yes.

Three hours later...

We dock.

I inject a triple dose of serum. I make for the door. It rushes through my body with rage. Torian is ready and waiting for me at the hanger door.

'Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.' Today is a good day for someone else to die.

I hold up my wrist and smile fiercely. Torian crosses his wrist with mine as he repeats the message.

We exit the ship. We kill the first enemies we see quickly. Hack in the codes. We board the star freighter. And arrive on the Chancellor's ship.

We quickly deactivate the alarm and clear the hanger. Plant the bombs. And the real work begins. The explosion is fun, though.

It's easy to kill what remains of the guards. We override the lockdown. Sabotage the escape pods. And only then do we head for the Supreme Chancellor. It's all a long standard procedure. Almost tedious.

We reach the Supreme Chancellor's chambers and stop when we see our only remaining obstacles bar a easily hacked door: The Supreme Guard.

The Supreme Guard isn't what I expected. They are Jedi. But we trained for this.

So let the fight begin.

-----

There is always confusion when you wake from a deep sleep.

There is uncertainty. And as your eyes and mind adjust to the harsh reality of the world you have awakened to, the dream slips away. It was happy. And as it slowly disappears, you feel you are losing something important. All that's left is a hard, cold sadness; an overwhelming, weeping pain in its place that spreads through your body like a virus.

And an implacable, relentless fury. A merciless craving for revenge.

This is my reality.

-----

I slice open the Jedi in front of me and turn around expecting to be in instant battle with another.

Only what I see is Torian's back. Torian falls to the ground and I only allow myself to have enough thoughts to know that he just saved me. I don't need to think more about it to know Torian's grunt a few seconds earlier had been from a force push: to know the Jedi had then run to attack me from behind: to know Torian ran as fast as he could to stop it.

The Jedi stands with their lightsaber by their side and the silver glow casts shadows on her black robes. My eyes don't flicker to Torian's body as I casually step over it. It would be a fatal error to drop my guard. I can hear him breathing. And that is enough. Because it has to be.

The Jedi motions to bring it on. And I do.

Move left, shoot right, dodge, jump, step forward, right.

I don't let my anger leave openings in my guard from clouded judgement.

Twirl, jab, duck, right, roll, shoot, jump left, weave right, slash, duck again.

And I don't feel like this is real.

Jump back, shoot, step right, duck, slash, twirl, jump over, shoot, stab, roll left, shoot, side step.

I at the end of a surreal state that I've only now realised I've been in since I first met Torian.

Ah, an opening. Shoot, run and duck, stab.

I pick up the Jedi's lightsaber and put in the case for them at my belt. I quickly tie the Jedi's hands and take the lightsaber from the other. Though it kills a part of me to waste this time, I know I need to do this. Would be stupid to leave a lightsaber lying around.

I think I run to Torian but I'm not sure. I only know that I am suddenly kneeling next to him. The armour is crushed and bent. Large cut going down the disfigured shape. So much for beskar.

I take it off and look at the wound. The wound is bad. The cut runs straight up his torso though it would be deeper if the armour was worse. But everything is damaged. He will die. And he knows it.

I don't do him the shame of lying to him. He doesn't have long at all. I take some painkillers from my belt and inject them into his arm while I continue to look at his closed eyes. They won't even make the pain lesson very much. He doesn't have enough time for them to do anything.

I suppose this is how long our forever lasts.

'Why did you do it, Torian?' I want to punch him, I want to kick him, but more than anything I want him to open his eyes one last time. His heart is feeble and bleeding in my ringing ears. 'You know I'm going to die in two years anyway. Should have let me die. I want to die over this,' I whisper at the end as the outrage leaves me and I begin to walk into the shallows of grief.

'Promised I'd watch your six no matter what.' His speech is broken and breathless. I know he only has minutes left and many of those will be spent in too much agony to talk.

'My stubborn manda. Maybe if you hadn't been so busy watching my rear you wouldn't be like this.'

Torian tries a chuckle that turns into a cough and groan. 'Worth it,' he lets out between groans.

'I'd kill you for such thoughts if someone hadn't already done the job for me.' I try and smile. It doesn't matter that it twists and fails because his eyes are still closed. I hold his clammy and cooling hand tighter and force my eyes to stay on his face. No point trying to heal his wound. Can't come back from this.

'Still love you, though. Stubbornness, stupidity and pride included. Know that, right?' I try not to let a note of desperation enter my voice. I watch his grimacing face for a reply past the small nod he gives; for him to open his eyes just a little so I can look at them one last time. I hate the memories of all the times I didn't look. I should have looked. While I still had the chance.

My vigilance is rewarded when he opens his eyes and forces out some clear, firm words: 'I'm glad you came to Taris.'

He dies shortly after and I sit with dry eyes, looking into his wound as if the bloody mess will explain something I can't yet understand. Should have been me. I wanted it to be me.

I stroke his cheek softly like I have so many times and my fingers trail to his neck. They touch something strange and I search for what it is.

I tug at it. It is rather long and I gather it is a leather cord. I reach around his neck and feel something sharp. It cuts my finger. I pull it round and stare at it. It's the tooth I gave him on Nar Shaddaa. The one from the Sire of the Brood on Dromund Kaas. Day we first spoke.

It is polished and a small hole is through the thick base so the cord could go through it. Corridan's voice is in my mind. 'Showed me the tooth you gave him.' Never knew he wore it. I don't know how I never noticed. Wonder what else I never noticed.

'I'll keep it close.'

Whatever calm I had breaks but I don't cry. Only my anger breaks through. I have woken after a long sleep and I choke my new reality with cold hands and a curse. Torian made me forget something I knew so well: reality is cruel and malicious. The only way to survive it is to be the same. And I have no desire to be anything else now.

Targeting systems go online. The same well-known dark strength courses through me.

I turn on the dying Jedi. I poorly patch up their wounds. And then I have hours of fun and revenge. But it doesn't make this pain go away. And it doesn't change anything. I'm a monster. Torian is dead. And I'm still going to die.

When has doing this ever changed anything?

But it's all I can do. And it will always be worth trying. I've been trying for my entire life so far. I might as well for the next two years now. Because even if their screams will never bring Torian back, it makes me feel a **** load better.

And though I go through the motions mechanically and though I enjoy every second and every drop of toxic blood they bleed, a part of me cries. And that part keeps whispering what I don't want to hear. No matter how loud I make them scream, the voice in my head is only clearer and louder and continues to sob.

'Torian is dead.'

Hours later...

'So many people willing to lay down their lives for me. It should have never come to this. I want to tell you something, before you do what you came to do.'

The Chancellor's face is old and haggard. There is sadness set deep in his brow. But I don't care. He should have thought of the cost before he signed up. It doesn't change anything.

'It's not only the willing that have died because of you.' My voice is low and harsh with accusation. His wizened face cringes in pain and he only sadly nods his head.

'I know, dear. I heard.' His eyes sunken eyes are full of soft sympathy. I don't care for it. And I don't need it. He continues to speak, telling me he has cleaned my record and made an announcement of Jun's fallacies. I'm free to move around the galaxy now. Entering Republic space is going to be a hell of a lot easier. Doesn't change anything else.

'Thanks for cleaning my record. Saved me a minute or two there. But it doesn't change anything.' Doesn't bring him back.

I shoot the Chancellor. I just want it clean and over with. And now it is.

I call Darth Tormen. Nothing I want to do less. But got no choice. I keep it short. He wants to see me on the Tyrant. I want to see him on the Tyrant. Just not yet.

I put Torian's armour back on him. I pick him up in my arms and carry him through the ship.

I make another trip for the Chancellor. I just drag his corpse behind me. Once aboard my ship, I set course for Corellia. Got something to do first.

-----

Once on Corellia surface...

The watchmen step aside for me.

Mandalorians stop their busy packing as they see what I carry. His body is wrapped in black silk. It's fallen away from his face. His blonde hair is golden against his now pale skin and black silk. I don't cry. I don't show anything. There will be time for that when I am alone. I don't want anyone to see my grief. Still don't like showing weakness.

There are no tents anymore. The place that was a war camp and then a place of celebration, has become dismantled to show the reality of what it always was: something built that was beautiful and amazing once and has now become nothing more than ruin and devastation. What is most beautiful and precious is always that which is destroyed and taken from us. Good things can't live in this galaxy. In the end, it is the ugly twisted things that rule, fight and kill each other. And whenever we can, we destroy that which is everything we are not and can never be. Because we hate the reminder of that we lack. Purple flowers have no place in this galaxy.

The Mandalorians were going to leave in an hour or two by the looks. Guess they'll have to delay that. I don't want to go back to Duxn. Too far away from the Tyrant. Too much of a delay. Not sure what Torian would have wanted. Apart from living. But I know that whatever it was would of been as Mandalorian as it could be.

I walk into the crumbled building where the feast had been. And the fighting. Blizz has come but stands wearily back. He does not belong. I lie Torian in the middle of the room and kneel next to him. Mandos come and surround me. I don't look at them. I'm not here for them. I'm here because of him. I'd do anything for him. And though I know funerals are for the living as the dead have already departed, I will respect whatever Mandalorian code dictates. He was a Mandalorian. Jatnese be te jatnese. I smile thinly and my hand feels a ghost gripping it as I am taken by a memory.

Corridan comes and kneels next to me.

He whispers to me - 'I have delayed the departure for another two nights. Tonight, we drink to him. A night of aay'han.'

I nod. 'I trust you to make the proper preparations.'

I stand and leave without waiting for a reply. I can't be around people for another moment. I can't look at him for another moment.

I climb to a high point. A past roof I think. And I sit for many hours until dusk. No one comes near me. And I am thankful. Because I want nothing more than to kill someone. Maybe if I keep killing, I will eventually kill the pain that is burning and blistering my chest.

When the suns bottom reaches the horizon I climb down and enter the feasting area. Corridan has created a bed of sticks. He is in his new armour, the dinted chest plate now clean. Now Mandalorians usually keep the armour of the departed or at least their helemet. I have that in a bag I dropped somewhere and will give it to Corridan. Burning everything else is what I wanted. After tonight, I will never want to see it again.

Mandalorians are already standing around. Waiting. They are a circle of metal trees. Corridan stands in the centre A torch in his hand. There are only a few other fires. He watches my approach. I don't want this to be long. Corridan says a few words. For a Mandalorian, the one minute speech is like aruitii's hour.

'To many, he was an arue'tal. The message of gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la forgotten and dead as he was grew to you all as an outsider, not worthy to be spoken to. But Torian Cadera proved himself time and time again. When it was not enough that he fought superior to most others, he set out to kill his father and remove the stigma and shame of his name.

'And for some,' his eyes linger on Jogo as he turns to face those around us, 'this was not good enough. But Torian left to find new honours with Mandalore's daughter. And has earned more honours than many twice his age. More than most of you will ever earn.'

His voice is loud, a booming horn that echoes from the stars above. Anger resonates in his voice. But it cannot entirely mask the pain that is under them. This man loved Torian like he did the son he lost. And now, he has lost Torian as well.

'And in his absence from us, he became the second best fighter we will ever see in this generation. In this war.' His voice falters at the end. But he quickly finds momentum again.

'With his wife, he has taken down countless Jedi in the past week alone, has killed the Jedi Master Jun Seros, and defeated the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic!' Cheers go up from unseen dark faces.

'When we speak of the glory and honour of Torian Cadera, let it be with respect. Let it be with love. Remember him as he was. Remember him with pride as you fought with him in the Halls of Corellia. Remember him as a brother you loved. Remember his glory. Remember his death. And remember his victory!'

The Mandalorian's cries are long and deafening. I suppose Torian finally got everything he ever wanted. But that doesn't make a difference. I think it only makes it worse.

I don't need to say anything. Everything that needed to be said, I said to him time and time again. I only wish my last words to him were better. I only wish I had told him how much I needed him. How he made me. Guess it's the only regret I have. And he didn't need to hear it. He already knew. I had been saying goodbye for weeks, and I didn't even know it.

I speak the traditional funeral vows. 'Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Torian Cadera.' I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, Torian Cadera, so you are eternal.

The others repeat the words. The zealous cries of the moment before are lost and their echoes dead in the air. It makes this silence so much heavier and thicker. I will not be the only one mourning this night. But I will be the one mourning the hardest. I am still alive. And Torian is dead. I don't think that will ever be ok. I don't think I will ever be ok. Torian is dead.

I take the offered torch from Corridan. I reach my other hand out and stroke Torian's hair. Shifting it forward to the way he liked.

'Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,' I whisper. It is not something for others to hear. Can you hear me in the place you are in now? As you wait, do you watch?

Against my better judgement, I lean down to him one last time and kiss his lips. They are cold and stiff, all the scorching heat has disappeared. And that breaks anything left of my heart. But I would forever regret doing anything less. I take the tooth from around Torian's neck. It's the only memento I need.

And then I light his pyre. Torian is dead.

I walk from the room. Torian is dead.

I cannot watch. Torian is dead.

When outside, I collapse. Torian is dead.

My mind is only large enough to repeat the three words and as I move to unconsciousness, a question interrupts it's repetition. How did this happen?

-----

When I come to, I am in a mass of blankets.

Stars are still above me. It is a new night. I have slept for twenty four hours. Too long.

I struggle into a sitting position. My body is aching. I have missed a dose of serum. I remember the week's events all too keenly. Even in sleep, I remembered. I look at my hands but they empty. I feel around my neck and sigh relief when the sharp tooth cuts my fingers a new.

I look around me. I am alone. The walls are crumbling but still solid and whole. I can't hear anyone outside.

So I cry. The sobs hurt. They rake through my body. I vomit.

Corridan appears at the door way. 'Heard you wake up.' Nice way of putting it.

I look up at him and wipe some vomit from the corner of my mouth. I try to seem cold but as I see a fraction of the pain and grief I feel in Corridan's dark eyes, I collapse into my new state of never ending grief again. And I start to cry all of over again. He is by my side before I can speak. I feel like a weeping girl in her daddy's arms. Only makes this hurt all the more.

But they are still strong and comforting. But not Torian's. I will allow myself this weakness. Just for this moment. Eventually, when I am tired and empty, I pull away from his strong chest and sit on my own. I glance at his face and see drying tears down his face. They glisten like a snails trail. I wish I could cry like that. I think it would feel good.

Corridan doesn't look at me or wipe his face. We sit in silence for a long time. Eventually, he makes a move towards a bundle in the corner, dragging it over to sit before me.

'Got something for you.'

'I don't want a pity gift,' I snap. I didn't think about saying it. It just came out. Back to your old self already, huh? You're pathetic.

He shakes his head. 'Not that. Open it.'

I unwrap the bundle slowly. My arms have a hard time obeying me and my fingers even more. Inside is a beskar breast plate. It's a deep blue. Almost black, but the blue shines through in the light. It's well made. Almost as good as the one I gave... him. It's shoulder pads are lined with silver. In the centre, there is a silver crest. It is complex and intricate. But if you look long enough, you can see a heart. It is the centre and from it extends twisting vines that go to the edge of the armour in some places. It is beautiful. No other word could do it justice. I can tell Torian made it.

'Got a datapad with a message for you to. He said to give it to you in case. Seemed he knew this was coming.'

I almost want to smile at that. Didn't think he felt the storm coming. Guess he did. Should have known. Always had too good an intuition for his own good.

'Thank you, Corridan.'

He nods. Doesn't dishonour me by waving my thanks away. He stands shakily and leaves.

'Just remember, you're always welcome with us. You are one of us.' I'm not a Mandalorian. It was foolish to ever think I was. After today, I will never see Corridan again.

He walks to the door but hesitates. Only ever known Torian to walk through a door and not look back: only known Torian to let things lie as they fell and fix them on return.

'I understand what it's like. It does get easier but you will never move on.'

I gaze into his eyes intently. 'I don't intend to. I'm going to kill them all.'

Corridan chuckles and shakes his head. 'Ah, to be young. I said the same. Killed every Republic soldier in a small base in the name of revenge. Never did the same again. Took away the need for anything. And I almost got shot more than once. Was more than a little beat up when I came back.'

I don't shake my head. I only hold his gaze. 'No. Not just one base and not just the Republic. I'm going to kill them all.' They don't deserve life, I silently ad. So I will take it from them

Corridan only stares back and then walks through the door way.

I sit for a long time looking at the heart and holding the datapad. Eventually, I see something that makes me smile. Inside the heart at the very centre, amongst the twisting vines, is a word. I look for more but there aren't any.

I only find two letters carved at the pointed bottom of the heart. T.C.

I weep again. It is a painful thing. My eye becomes red and swollen. Blinking is painful and so is the afternoon light, so I close my eye. My upper lip is wet from water dripping from my nose, but inside my mouth, it is a dry wasteland. The sobs hurt my body. I need serum a lot. It was foolish of me to take so many overdoses in the past week. But I suppose it doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't change anything.

Eventually, when a vague equilibrium is restored, I read the datapad.

'Heard a Miliaran saying: "Love's the armour of the heart."

Mando's are a little more proactive than that. Never been good at large armour. Better at smaller stuff. Had Corridan's help in working the beskar. Didn't need any for the rest.

It will protect you when I can't, Cyare.'

I drop the pad like it was burning my hand. How else should you react when hearing the voice of a dead man? Only wish it was burning. That pain would hurt so much less than the words on it.

I stare into the armour's heart.

Cyare.

-----

When I come to again and walk from the small room, no Mandalorians are in sight. But I can hear the mourning celebrations continuing in a far away building. Wise of Corridan to move me so far away. If I saw Jogo, I know I would kill him.

I am angry. Crying has worn away the grief for now and left a righteous wrath in its place. I walk the streets for miles around and I kill everyone I see. Imperials, thugs, Republic soldiers, refugees. I don't care. I kill them all.

But it doesn't kill the anger in me. Or the sadness. I don't think anything can remove that. But I'm more than willing to keep trying. Even if it means killing everyone in the entire galaxy.

But I know it won't bring him back.

So I kill even more.

What is most beautiful and precious is always that which is destroyed and taken from us. Good things can't live in this galaxy. In the end, it is the ugly twisted things that rule, fight and kill each other. And whenever we can, we destroy that which is everything we are not and can never be. Because we hate the reminder of that we lack. Purple flowers have no place in this galaxy.

Made me cry all over again. Beautiful writing, even if it is sad. And oh jeez, that armor he made her - I don't cry pretty you know. Will need extra make-up today.

Replies:

Wow. I did not expect that. It was always a longshot on the happy ending, but I'd still held out some hope. Poor hunter. Poor galaxy. At least he went out as he wanted to. I need to go find some tissues.

I'm glad it was unexpected. There have been hints, especially in Yours to Hold, that things will happen like that. I did originally had more ominous statements but... I thought removing them would be more evocative and forceful.

I've written three different versions for it and will probably post them later. I chose that one as the best though it wasn't the one I wrote first. Hope it wasn't cliche that he died to save her.

Poor galaxy indeed.

Made me cry all over again. Beautiful writing, even if it is sad. And oh jeez, that armor he made her - I don't cry pretty you know. Will need extra make-up today.

I'm glad you liked it (in a sad way).

I'm not going to lie to you... there's most likely more crying moments ahead.

All my feels are just in tiny little pieces. So beautiful and sad.

It broke my heart too...

Thanks for your feedback/reactions/opinions.

Would be great to hear readers thoughts/opinions/reactions of what's happening/happened.

After days of slaughter on Corellia's surface...

I return to the ship.

We lift off straight away and enter orbit. Mako walks down from the cockpit and stands in the cargo bay at the opposite end of Skadge. Nice to see they're getting along. Eyes quickly scan for Gault but then I remember he'll still be on Belsavis if they haven't already gone to Nar Shaddaa.

Blizz comes inside the ship after me. No one else does. Mako takes us in and keeps watching the door, expecting him to walk in with eyes that have too much puppy love and excitement. No one except Blizz was on the ship to pick us up from the Chancellor's vessel. So they don't know. Didn't want to call. Not that it ever even occurred to me. She asks eventually though she still doesn't look at me. Hasn't looked at me for a long time. Even avoided my eyes when she could when confronting her sister. Been moping since then.

'Where's Torian?' Sometimes, I wonder the same thing.

'Dead.'

She takes a reflexive step back, as if I had hit her and the excitement and anticipation slows drains from her face. She shakes her head and mumbles 'no.' I just stare at her. I have cried enough. And I don't want to in front of them. All that's left is anger. Blizz goes and comforts her. He makes strange whizzing noises that I assume is what happens when a Jawa weeps.

Skadge is a portrait of ugly indifference. He shrugs. I look at him. How can he shrug it off like it is nothing? Like Torian was nothing.

'Worthless runt got what was coming to him.'

I have my hands around Skadges thick, grotesque throat before he finishes flinching. But I let go quickly. His race have venomous sacs around there necks. So I turn and take a few steps away.

He chuckles deeply and it comes out as a harsh, revolting croak. 'No point mourning over him. He was a useless weak thing.'

I spin around and point my gun at him. I am for his right eye. 'Torian. Was. Not. Worthless.'

I shoot him. Mako and Blizz are crouching statues. They reek of fear. I drag Skadge's corpse to the air lock and let it out. Doesn't deserve any better. Wouldn't even bother with that, but I don't want to keep smelling his ugly body. Especially when it starts rotting.

I leave them there and return to our room. My room.

Beds big and empty without him. I stand and stare it for a long time, a large distance between me and it; an enemy that I can't quite figure out how to fight. It's covers are still pressed and tidy from two weeks since. Torian was always big on order. Never cared for it myself. What was the point of making the bed if it was just going to get messy again later?

I almost smile at the memories of the early mornings when Torian had to make the bed again and again. We kept messing it up. He was irresistible when he had that serious, concentrating face as he tried to make the covers precisely smooth and even. But the thought of it just hurts.

And makes me conscious of the pain in my body. It's time for more serum. I look at my desk. There is a present waiting for me. I think it is a present. It's a silver crate. Medium size. There's a datapad on top and a bottle of champagne next to it with two glasses. I open the crate.

There's some military gear. New wrist guards. And another datapad.

Torian.

Guess he prepared for everything. I read the message.

'Got an admission.

Never been the nervous type. Never been scared about facing anything.

Day I asked about our future, had the shakes so bad I left a clean target on the range. You would have been disappointed. And make me stay till I got five dead centre. Would have been a long time.

Think I'd still be there.

Guess I better not cross you, Cyare.

Only ever want to see you smile.'

I can hear his voice. I read it again. And again. But it falls empty in me. I don't know how to feel. Felt too much in one day.

I lean against the desk and slowly read again. But I don't see the words. See his blonde hair and scars: I see his firm lips and angular jaw. And I see his dark blue eyes staring into me. I was captured by that stare because I was so unprepared. And now I'm shattered. Don't think I could ever pick up the pieces. I don't want to be put back together again. Time seems to build us up and then laugh when we fall.

'However long forever turns out to be, I'm yours.'

I take off my armour.

'Time for a drink?'

I return to the bed.

'I could get used to this.'

I don't take any serum.

'I'll watch your rear.'

I lie down and coil into a ball.

'Who's counting?'

I leave the datapad on the pillow next to my head.

'I'll keep it close.'

My hand reaches for the tooth around my neck, squeezing it tight.

'Torian Cadera. Not a kid.'

Blood seeps through my fingers, my shirt and into the sheet.

'Love is the armour of the heart.'

It will leave a stain.

'I can remedy that.'

I lie for many hours without moving.

'It's been an honour.'

Memories won't leave me be.

'Hope it's not worthless.'

His voice keeps echoing in my mind, climbing over each other like snakes in a pit, wriggling and biting.

'Only ever had eyes for you.' 'You think I'm cute?' 'I'm in love with you.' 'You really are beautiful.' 'I don't like competition.' 'Why did you enter the Great Hunt?' 'Next Hunt called, I'm going to enter.' 'I like you calling me Torian.' 'You're much prettier then the Commander.' 'Got a good crew.' 'Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.' 'Thanks, mesh'la.' 'Was going stir crazy.' 'I know you forever, cyare.'' 'Was thinking next time I hear from Corridan, we go on a hunt.' That's my girl.' 'Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.'

It leaves me paralysed and stunned as each climb the walls of my attention.

'Sweetheart.' 'I'll be with you then, Champion.' 'Thought you needed me, cyare.' 'When we meet our ends, hope we're more fortunate.' 'Will you marry me?' 'I'll get you some when we get back to the galley.' 'Thought I was "a stupid Mando punk".' 'Stay safe and careful, Champion.' 'Seems I've been neglecting you.' 'You'll have to torture it out of me.' 'You're an amazing shot.' 'Surprised I'm alive.' 'This armour isn't up for a decent fight.' 'Do anything for her.'

'Think I'd still be there.'

Then, everything comes back to me. Fresh and raw. Torian is dead.

'Then this is the worst thing you've ever done for me.'

And I cry. Long and hard. A tearless, shuddering thing.

'Say 'yes' and we'll always be one.'

Grief rakes my body. It convulses and hurts.

'I'm glad you came to Taris.'

When dawn comes, I have cried my soul out. For now.

'I'll see you again. Soon.'

I walk to my cupboard and take serum.

'Just have to make the most of it then.'

Three doses.

'Only ever want to see you smile.'

I put clean underwear on and my armour.

'Wish you were only ever mine.'

I take off my old wrist guards and put on the new ones.

'Now or never.'

They are silver. Intricate designs carved into them with a slit for my knives to come through.

'I ought to remedy that.'

I stare at them long and hard.

'Could never not love you.'

Eventually, the words I expected to see appear. One on each.

'What's our next move?' 'Battle stations?'

I head to the bridge.

'Ready when you are.' 'I've got your six no matter what.'

And I set course for the Tyrant.

'Think of it as a challenge, Cyare.'

Ravager. Haran.

-----

I call to Blizz over the intercom to come up to me on the bridge.

He is a little hesitant to approach. He is worried for me. I turn my head around and smile at him, beckoning him closer. I pick him up when he is close enough and put him on the top of the control panel in front of me.

'Got some good news for you, Blizz. I've found your old crew. They're on Dantooine.'

He brightens up. Says he'll go to them after we finish with the Sith Lord. I shake my head.

'It's got to be now, Blizz. They're going to change planet soon.'

'Then Boss find them again,' he says simply.

'No, Blizz. You can't come with me, ok? Don't you want to see your crew?' I ask persuasively.

Blizz nods his head. 'But I want Boss to meet them. Visit them after job is done. Blizz stay with Boss.'

I thump my hand on the panel next to him. He flinches in fear. I force myself to smile and unclench my fist.

'You can't stay with me, Blizz. This is going to be dangerous. I'll visit you after I'm done, ok? Promise. I'll even bring you some presents.'

He shakes his head again. 'No deal, Boss. Blizz stick with Boss now Torian gone. Blizz promised Torian.' I keep my body and expression calm. There will be time to think about that later. 'And this is Blizz home.'

I smile at his warmth and thoughtfulness. Blizz is sweet. But it makes me want to cry. So I smile some more.

'It is, Blizz. And always will be. But I don't want to lose you, too. I couldn't bare it and I don't think Torian knew what was going to happen when he made you promise that.' Liar. 'So please go, for me.'

Blizz reluctantly nods. 'Ok, Boss. Stay safe.'

He jumps down and I listen to him packing his bags. Blizz only reminds me of Torian. I care for the little guy more than I should. If he stays around, he'll get me killed somehow or more likely he'll get himself killed. I don't want to fall from the pedestal he's put me on. So I put him somewhere where he can't see it, where my fall is only a quiet, missed thing. I don't want to taint him on my way down.

Blizz walks up again and stands in the door way.

'Bye, Boss. See you soon.'

'Stay safe, Blizz,' I reply with a smile. And then he is gone, and the ship is a little more empty and a little less bright.

Two down, one to go.

-----

Please comment.

They make all the difference

The fact that I'm still reading this, even knowing it's going to make me cry, is a huge testament to how you've written the story. I tend to avoid stuff that's going to make me cry like the plague.

Damn straight Skadge dies. Damn straight. Because Torian was not worthless. He was a good good man and going over his words just made it clear how good.

That she still cares about Blizz is...so good. It's so good. She hasn't lost all her better self (at least for now). And Blizz refusing to go because Torian asked him to stay...more tears.