Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Royal Prince- and then, Heir- of Alderaan had been a curiously private matter. Usually, Royal children were an occasion for planet-wide and intergalactic fanfare, but their Queen, who asked for so little, had bowed her head for privacy on behalf of the child.

Every Aldaeraanian knew what those lights in their chest meant, could imagine a thousand different ways for the lights to have been necessary, each worse than the last, and kept their lips sealed.

And the Heir rewarded their loyalty with their own, their kindness and compassion a foil to their sharp tongue and crack aim, most often wielded in defence of those in need. The Heir may have loved their adopted planet and their people fiercely, but neither were they blind to the plight of those in the far flung corners of the universe.

Word had it that the Heir had been adopted from one of those corners. But word also had it that the Heir had been raised in the Core.

Well, wherever their Heir had come from, the Alderaanians could all agree to a one that they were now theirs.

Chapter Text

“I know we were only sending Obi-Wan to you, but-.”

Bail frowned. “Khiyosh? How can we help?”

The child swallowed tightly. “Rod. She’s- she ain’t getting better. After Rizzo- being here is too many memories for her, and none of ‘em good. It's screwing with her head, and even if we could- she won't accept it, not coming from us.”

“Is she open to leaving Melidaan?” he asked. “Even temporarily?”

Khiyosh shook their head. “She needs to get outta her head.”

“Shall I let Squad Leader Tico know she's bringing back an additional passenger during her next resupply run?”

Khiyosh ran a hand through their shaggy hair. “I’m running outta options here. I mean, I'm grateful for every day she don't off herself. At this point, I don’t think it can hurt.”

“Of course,” Bail replied, clenching his fists within their sleeves. “Anything we can do to help.”

“Thanks,” they sighed, shoulders sloping.

He’d never met Rod while on Melidaan, Dorm and Khiyosh fiercely protective of the girl because of her condition. He wasn’t expecting a ghost-pale child with a mop of brown hair, staring sightlessly past him.

“Oh, Rod,” Obi-Wan sighed the moment he saw her, reaching for her with greedy hands. “Could you-.” He gingerly shifted on his medbed, taking care not to jostle any of the wires and scanners still attached to him.

Bail winced. “I don’t think I should move her-.”

“Oh, of course,” Obi-Wan mumbled, and then frowned. “Rod, I need you to relax, alright? It’s only my magic.”

A faint spark of interest entered her eyes, and then she was very carefully lifted and set on his medbed, right beside him. The moment Rod’s head hit the pillow, she let out a sigh and relaxed. In contrast, Obi-Wan’s pallor had worsened and his face was covered with a thin layer of sweat.

Bail touched the boy's shoulder, gently urging him back down to rest. “Suu’ll have both our heads if you over-exert yourself.”

“It’s okay,” Obi-Wan rasped. “We’ll be okay.”

“Please get some rest,” Bail said as he dabbed at his brow with his handkerchief. “You can catch up later.”

The boy let out a faint smile. “Thank you.” He wriggled down to lie next to Rod, and closed his eyes.

Bail watched the children take slow, even breaths together, and rubbed at the ache building in his chest. Honestly, the Young found new ways to break his heart with every single encounter. He sent the children one last glance and then paused, thoughtful. They weren’t the same age or height, but there was a certain superficial similarity to them, from their pale skin to their brown-red hair to the deep bruises beneath their eyes.  

Breha and he hadn’t exactly planned for one child, let alone 2, but Melidaan’s Young seemed to defy all expectations.

Rod was, unsurprisingly, armed; Bail had caught sight of the knives she kept on her person when he’d accidentally startled her in the morning. Obi-Wan distracted her by cooing over how well-maintained the blades were, apparently a relic from her dead friend, the one who’d been executed in Zehava.

“...would you like to learn how to fight?” Were the first words Bail said to her.

Rod glanced between him and Obi-Wan, clearly wary.

“Rod can fight,” the boy said for her. “We all can.”

“I know,” Bail replied, hiding his flexing hands behind his back. “Would you like to get better at it?”

Obi-Wan tilted his head. “Your mouth is saying one thing,” he said slowly, “but the rest of you is saying something else. You don’t want Rod to have to fight again.”

Her blank stare from over Obi-Wan’s shoulder was frankly unnerving.

“Well, no, I don't want any of you to have to fight again,” he admitted, “but you want to, don’t you?” Bail directed his question to her. “If it would help you heal - get a better grasp of your senses and abilities - then I’ll see what arrangements I can make to help facilitate that. Dorm would agree with me and I think Khiyosh would, too.”

Rod blinked a handful of times, her heavy stare never once shifting from him. Bail had the eerie suspicion that this was what prey felt like when faced by a predator.

Eventually, she opened her mouth and said, “Rizzo could fight.”

Her voice was hoarse, ill-used, and heavily accented.

Obi-Wan huffed. “Rizzo wasn’t coughing out bits of her lungs,” he retorted.

“You could fight,” she told Obi-Wan.

“Could,” the boy agreed. “There are a lot of other things I can't do now, like walk on my own, see out of my left eye, and stand for more than 5 minutes.”

“In time,” Bail coaxed. “Let yourself recover first.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, wearing a thin mask of indifference. “I’m alive and still have the Force. I can always fire a blaster if it comes down to it.”

Why did everything revolve around fighting for these children? Bail ran a hand through his hair. Considering how he’d met them, he supposed he ought not to be surprised.

“It’s not just about fighting,” Obi-Wan said, appearing to have plucked that thought straight out of his head. Bail wondered if he ought to feel alarmed. “It’s about being able to defend ourselves and keep each other safe.”

Rod was watching the older boy thoughtfully. “You was always awful at keepin’ safe.”

“Hey!”

Bail sighed. “I do not think Obi-Wan could get into any serious trouble while he's assigned to the medbay.”

Both children winced.

“What is it?” he asked, biting back a groan.

“Y’said it,” Rod said. “Means y’jinxed it. You’d be surprised to see what kinda trouble this one gets into.”

“Speak for yourself,” the boy retorted, leaning back so that he could knock their shoulders together. It was hardly surprising that he missed, given his issues with depth perception, but Obi-Wan looked shocked and Rod, dismayed.

“I suppose I can’t fire a blaster like this,” Obi-Wan said glumly, still staring at the space between their shoulders.

“In time,” Bail repeated. “If Suu were here, she’d tell you to manage your expectations. Once your eye heals up more, I'm sure she'll discuss options for optical replacements with you.”

“You’na be a robot,” Rod told Obi-Wan, leaning over to nudge him with her shoulder, this time.

The boy drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m alive and I still have my magic.”

Rod actually reached out to check Obi-Wan’s forehead. “How sick y’gotta be t’ be callin’ it that?”

“You’ll get there,” Bail said softly, not bothering to hide his smile.

“You can’t promise that,” Obi-Wan replied, but the tense set of his shoulders seemed to relax a little.

Rod didn’t get better overnight, not even with the full resources of the Alderaanian Medical Academy. Mostly, she just needed a completely new environment and time to decompress and process. Obi-Wan was endlessly patient with her, chattering at her when he had the strength for it and sitting silently beside her when he didn’t. For the most part, she seemed mostly content with lying beside Obi-Wan in his medbed and ghosting behind him as he attended his rehabilitation sessions with Suu's assistant, Sen.

The change in environment and Obi-Wan’s proximity helped her maintain a mostly placid calm throughout the day, even if she wasn’t consistently aware and tracking. It was the nights, though, that were the most jarring.

Obi-Wan would blanket Rod with his self, taking care of the multiple wires and scanners he was still connected to. Neither of the children were big, still malnourished from months upon years of fighting, but cocooned like that, Rod looked far too small.

Bail suspected Obi-Wan had been doing something with his Force to help Rod sleep, because while she began to look more rested, Obi-Wan only looked more haggard.

“You need to rest, too,” he told the boy quietly, while Rod was snoring into the sheets.

“I’ll rest when I’m dea-,” Obi-Wan immediately retorted, only to cut off his words before he could finish. He glanced aside. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I could ask for,” Bail replied, pulling the blankets up around them. “Rest well, you 2.”

He took up watch on his chair, not even noticing when he fell asleep. He did notice when the screaming woke him up.

He jerked upright, his datapads clattering to the floor, and looked up to see the fear reflecting off the wetness in Obi-Wan’s open eye.

“Rod,” Obi-Wan called weakly, but the child was too trapped in her nightmare of a memory to even hear him.

Bail grimaced, pushing upright. He hated to do this, but it was the simplest, fastest, and safest way to wake an armed soldier - he opened the door to the ‘fresher, grateful that the Alderaanians favoured new-age swing doors, and slammed it shut.

Rod yelped, spilling out of the medbed.

“Rod,” Obi-Wan called again, sticking his head past the edge of his bed. “Are you awake yet?”

A loud, wet sob was the reply.

“Oh, kriff it all,” Obi-Wan whispered, shoulders ratcheting tight.

“Rod,” Bail said softly, carefully staying out of her reach as he turned on the light, “can you get up? Obi-Wan and I would both like to see that you’re alright.”

“Whassit matter?” she moaned at the floor. “It don’t matter, an' I don't.”

“Of course you do!” Obi-Wan exclaimed.

“Not enough,” Rod retorted. “With Rizzo dead and Ces, too, they chucked us out real quick."

Obi-Wan couldn’t quite control his flinch.

“That’s not true,” Bail replied, fighting to keep his voice level. “Khiyosh and Dorm only sent you here because we have access to resources that aren’t yet available on Melidaan. Once you’re both recovered, or we get similar resources set up there, I know your fellow Young are looking forward to your return.”

“It ain’t true!” she snapped out, slapping one open palm against the floor.

“Rod, Rizzo would’ve done anything for you,” Obi-Wan rasped. "Please, don't-."

“Fat lot o’ good it did 'er!” she spat, pushing to her feet and revealing red-rimmed eyes set in an ashen face. “An’ why should I care about ‘er? Why should you care? Why should anyone care about what some dead kid thunk?”

Bail knew she was lashing out, but lashing out at them wasn’t doing her any good, and it certainly wasn’t doing Obi-Wan any good. He could see the boy’s shoulders creeping towards his ears, the way he was carefully measuring out his breaths to keep them even.

“I told you,” Obi-Wan whimpered, “I told you, I should’ve just used the Force-.”

“This doesn’t help either of you in the long run,” Bail gently interrupted, sighing as he bent down to pick up his datapads. Thankfully, none of the screens had cracked. “I understand that these are your feelings, Rod, but neither of us are equipped to deal with them. Suu should be the one bringing this up to you, not me.”

Rod squinted up at him, clear suspicion on her face. “Whassit?”

“What does Medic Ardele want?” Obi-Wan asked tightly. “I’ve been attending all my rehabilitation, and Rod’s healthy.” He swallowed loudly. “Isn’t she?”

“As far as I know, absolutely,” Bail replied, looking at the girl in question. “Khiyosh and Dorm gave you the all-clear before you ever left Melidaan.”

“Then what?” Rod demanded as she scrambled to her feet, putting her back to the wall. He was just grateful that she hadn't drawn a knife on him yet.

“We would like you both to attend mind healing sessions,” he explained. “Did either Khiyosh or Dorm ever mention that to you?”

“You sayin’ I’m losin’ my mind?” Rod snarled.

Bail did not sigh, no matter how much he wanted to. This was not a conversation he was equipped to have, let alone wanted to, especially at 3 in the morning.

“Not at all,” he replied evenly. “All I’m saying is that both of you suffered from a series of highly traumatic experiences, and even if your bodies know that you’re safe now, your minds haven’t caught up yet. Talking about it- and talking through it, particularly with a trained individual, will help you move past it so you can start thinking about your future.”

He knew he’d hit the porg on the head when Rod let out a bitter laugh. “Future? What future?”

“The one where you get to live without fear,” he promised. “Where you learn to rebuild, and then thrive. You’re not alone in this either, you know. Your fellow Young are going through the same thing, right now, on Melidaan.”

“Wha’s th’ poin’, though?” Rod whispered, staring down at her empty hands that only filled as tears fell into them. “Whassit all mean when we’s th’ only ones lef’ standing?”

That truly was the question, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Bail said quietly, “but I cannot not be relieved by your survival. By every single Young that still lives. I am sorry that Rizzo is no longer with you, but may I remind you of the ones who still are?”

Rod stared up at him with huge, watery eyes. Neither she nor Obi-Wan seemed to know what to say to that, but he was just relieved that neither of them rejected his words out of hand.

“I’m sure you have much to consider,” Bail continued. “Perhaps this could wait till you could speak with Suu in the morning, or Sen - I think you’re also familiar with them?”

Obi-Wan nodded, not looking up from his lap.

“Could we- could we comm them? Khiyosh and-?” he asked.

“Of course!” Bail exclaimed. “I’m sorry, I should have started with that.”

Obi-Wan did look up then, with a small smile on his face. The locket around his neck shifted with the motion. “Thank you, Bail.”

He smiled back. “You’re very welcome. And- I’m glad you’re calling me by name.” The tips of Obi-Wan’s ears went pink. “Now all I have to do is convince you to do the same for ‘Breha’. You should both call her that, I know it would make her happy.”

“Callin’ a queen by ‘er name,” Rod muttered as she crept back into bed, tucking herself under a corner of the blanket. “I know I ain't movin' up in th' world, so is bein’ a queen mean summat diff’ren' ‘ere?”

He smiled. “Well, a queen is still a person at the end of the day.”

“C’mere,” Obi-Wan beckoned, tugging Rod back against him and using his magic to tuck the blanket around her.

“Imma get sweaty an’ we gonna stick together,” she complained, shifting restlessly beneath the covers.

“Maybe I can help?” Bail volunteered, going to adjust the climate controls.

“We got used to sticking you between us,” Obi-Wan mumbled, “just to make sure you were warm enough. You didn’t need to catch a cold on top of whatever was going on with your lungs.”

“But it ain’t there no more, righ’?” Rod asked in a small voice, and Bail couldn’t help but be reminded of how young these 2 really were. Well, they were Young, too, on top of all that.

“No, it isn’t,” he assured her softly. “You can ask Khiyosh yourself in the morning.” He paused. “Do you think you can go back to sleep now? Without the use of your magic?” he added when Obi-Wan opened his mouth, only to close it at his words.

Rod even giggled, her laughter interrupted midway by a yawn.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Bail said, turning the room light off before smugly settling back into his chair.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Obi-Wan huffed. “I know you have your own rooms with the- with the Queen.”

Rod let out another sleepy giggle. “Wha’s tha’ Core edu done, now, huh? Can’ e’en say a single lady’s name.”

“She’s hardly just a lady, she’s the Queen,” Obi-Wan hissed back.

Bail chuckled, and let their drowsy banter lull him back to sleep.

Chapter Text

“Master Ettene.”

Everen Ettene turned at the sound of his voice. The Jedi Master hadn’t been in her rooms in the palace’s guest wing so the Royal Alderaanian Library had been the next best bet.

The Chalactan woman smiled, carefully closing her book and stripping off her stasis gloves as she stood to greet him. At his nod, a librarian discreetly moved to return the book. She wouldn't be needing it after this.

“Senator,” she said warmly, “it’s a pleasure to finally see you on-planet. You’ve been busy; I thought a sabbatical was supposed to give you time off?”

Bail couldn’t help flinching at the reminder about why, exactly, he’d taken that sabbatical.

Ettene slowly sobered. “Senator?”

With effort, he shook off the looming fugue. Obi-Wan would be undergoing the first of very many organ replacement surgeries today. The faster he finished up here, the sooner he could return to the child’s bedside.

…even if he would be in a medically induced coma. Both Khiyosh and Nield had said Obi-Wan had been able to sense it when someone sat with him while he was unconscious; this was the least Bail could do for him.

Besides, he could even claim to be working: Vandron had sent over his next batch of recorded minutes. Bail could hold onto the boy’s hand for emotional support while he was forced to deal with Vandron’s frankly rubbish sense of humour.

“Senator?” Ettene repeated, a frown growing on her face.

Bail shook his head again. “Apologies, Master Ettene; I’ve been doing nothing but woolgathering lately. I…wanted to let you know, my Queen and I are considering adopting a child who came to us recently, if they would do us the honour of accepting.”

Ettene’s expression brightened, her joy clearly visible. “Congratulations to you and the Queen, Senator,” she said. Ettene was too dignified to gush, but she came close. “I know how much you and Her Majesty adore children. May they be the first of many.”

Bail couldn’t help flinching at the thought.

No, they would love any child who came to them, welcome them with open arms - but he prayed to the Killik and all the suns and moons and stars in the galaxy that they would not come to them in the way Obi-Wan had. Bail’s heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

“Senator?” Ettene asked again, reaching out for him uncertainly.

He cleared his throat. “They are a refugee, you see, and come from a war-torn planet. You helped me craft a bill-.”

“For the Protection of Children Displaced by Wartime, yes, I remember,” Ettene replied, dark eyes dimming. “That such a bill was even necessary was-.” She shook her head with a sigh, her elaborate braids brushing her shoulders.

“I remember your kindness and the good we wrought together.”

“...thank you?” she asked, her brows slanting in confusion.

“And I am counting on your good will to understand that I am speaking to you now in the capacity of Prince Organa, Royal Consort of Alderaan,” he intoned. Ettene stiffened at his tone.

“Jedi Master Everen Ettene, this is your 2-hour notice to leave the planet, effective immediately. From henceforth-,” he exhaled, swallowing back a wave of regret, “-Alderaan will be closed to any members of the Jedi Order.” He pressed on over Ettene’s bald-faced shock. “All Jedi-adjacent meetings can only be conducted via holo or on Coruscant. This Royal Edict will come into effect the moment you leave.”

He paused, and finally allowed his regret to shade his voice. “I am afraid I do not know when it may be lifted.”

“Sena-!” Ettene caught herself, eyes wide and stunned. “I apologise, Prince Organa. I don’t understand.”

“The planet that child comes from,” Bail said slowly, “was supposed to have a Jedi negotiator to mediate the violent conflict they were embroiled in.” He let that sink in before adding, “The child and all their fellow children were left to die.”

Ettene’s face turned pale beneath her tan skin. “That’s-!”

“That child will be in an induced coma for months because of the degree of organ damage they suffered, and they are only one of many,” he continued. “Regardless of our history, I cannot risk your presence triggering them and setting back their recovery.”

Ettene shuddered. “No, of course not, but- Prince Organa, I cannot believe one of my own would do such a thing. To leave children to suffer so heinously is-.” She shook her head again. “There must have been a miscommunication somewhere. please, let me get to the bottom of this matter.”

She meant well, Bail reminded himself. In all the years that he had known Everen Ettene, all the time spent working together, she had always meant well.

“The surviving children are not interested in reconciliation. Given their last experience with a Jedi, unfortunately, I can’t blame them.” Ettene flinched.

“They entrusted me with their identities and have no desire to expose themselves to galaxy-wide notoriety. I will not betray their trust. Is that what you’re asking of me, Master Ettene?”

She inhaled sharply. “No, not at all, I apologise, Prince Organa. I just- I would like to get to the source of the children’s hurt.”

“I understand,” he replied, “but I will not do it by hurting them even more.” He hesitated. “Do you know what the worst part of this is?”

Ettene laughed humourlessly. “You mean we haven’t gotten there yet?”

“I know who it is.”

Ettene went still, her dark eyes pinning him. “And you still won’t-!”

“I’m given to understand that the Jedi Order keeps its own records,” Bail interrupted, tone carefully mild. “But the only reason staying Alderaan’s hand is the children’s request for anonymity.” He stared at Ettene, cataloguing her proud nose, strong brows, and stubborn chin. The stubbornness in said chin had remained the same through the years. “The only reason why I am telling you this much is because we were friends.”

“But no longer,” she whispered.

Bail shook his head. “I would risk many things but not these children. Let the Jedi Council know: they can no longer count on Alderaan’s public support. If there are children who are Force-sensitive, we may send them to the Order - but we will be watching that much closer.”

Ettene squeezed her eyes shut, fighting for composure.

"What is your Force telling you, Master Ettene?"

She breathed in. "It had been still. Very still, as if waiting for a- a colleague of mine would call it a shatterpoint."

"And has that point shattered?" Bail asked.

Ettene breathed out, air whistling through her parted lips. She hadn't reopened her eyes yet.

"Oh, yes," she whispered. "When you started talking, there was this enormous swell." She finally opened her eyes, staring up at him ponderously. "The Force is grieving," she said, "for what has been done. For what has yet to be done."

That was both incredibly profound and incredibly unhelpful at the same time. Bail could only hope those words made more sense to her than it did to him.

“This will likely be the last time we speak in-person,” he said quietly. “I remember your kindness and integrity when we composed the bill for the Protection of Children Displaced by Wartime. We wrought good things together, Master Ettene. I trusted you before, and I’m trusting you with this much.”

“It’s not much at all,” she muttered with no real heat.

“The children do not need your help,” he returned, gently but firmly. “They barely even accepted ours and they didn't want it, either. You would do more good looking in your own backyard and pruning out the weeds and thorns there.”

Ettene inhaled sharply. “If we truly have erred as grievously as you say, returning to the Temple will be - I can’t imagine looking at those familiar faces and discovering-.” She shook her head, one of her braids slipping loose. Bail continued to watch as Ettene impatiently pushed it behind her ear.

“I know I have to,” she admitted. “I can’t- I cannot do anything less.”

“I don’t envy you that duty,” he murmured. “But finding the proof on your own will be far more convincing than my just handing it to you.”

Ettene rubbed at her shoulders as if to ward against a chill. “Oh, I know you’re telling the truth,” she said. “The Force is tolling in time with your words. I just- that it had to come to this-.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “The Jedi may have a duty to the galaxy and your Force, and I know you’ve always done your best to adhere to its call. But there’s no point in helping the galaxy if it leaves your own home languishing.”

Ettene flinched again.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Don’t you start apologising,” she said with a ghost of a smile curling on her lips. “Then I’ll start and you’ll apologise back and we’ll be here apologising to eternity.”

“I’m not sorry for dumping this mess on your lap,” Bail said bluntly. “If it could spare other children such suffering-.”

“I know,” Ettene murmured.

“But I am sorry for the heartache this is causing. Will continue to cause.”

Her smile was brittle. “Necessary pains,” she said.

“I should leave you to gather your things.”

Ettene sighed. “Lucky I’ve always packed light. The book-." She half-turned, pausing only when she realised the tome had already been removed. "Forward-thinking as always, your Highness," she murmured, her gaze going distant.

He glanced toward the corridor to see 2 members of the guard, waiting to escort Ettene to her rooms to retrieve her belongings. Bail extended his hand to her one last time. “I have been honoured by your friendship and your service through the years, Master Ettene. I can only hope our next meeting will be more fortuitous.”

Ettene blinked, her gaze returning to the here and now. She gripped his hand firmly, one corner of her mouth quirking up. “It has to be, after this.”

“May the Force be with you, Master Ettene.”

“And may it be with you and your family, Prince Organa,” she replied, her dark eyes kind.

Obi-Wan was stirring when Bail entered his sterile room; neither Suu nor Sen were present, which meant that it wasn't yet time for Obi-Wan's surgery. Breha was already sitting beside him in a medical gown draped over her dress, reading something on her datapad. She tilted her cheek towards him as she continued to scroll.

“Is it done?”

“I’ve put your guard on it,” he replied, kissing her offered cheek. “The good Captain will escort her to her aethersprite.”

When he took his seat beside her, Obi-Wan was watching him, baring a sliver of blue beneath his lashes.

“You met a Jedi,” he murmured.

Bail’s eyes went wide. “Did your magic tell you that?”

Obi-Wan blinked slowly.

Bail grimaced. “Sorry, I’ve been talking to the Young too much,” he mumbled. “As to your question: yes, I met very briefly with the lone Jedi on Alderaan, Master Everen Ettene.” He paused, but Obi-Wan said nothing.

“I didn’t mention you or the Young at all,” he promised. “I wouldn’t compromise any of you in such a way.”

“Didn’t think you would,” Obi-Wan sighed, his eye closing as he shifted, expression flickering at his momentary discomfort. Bail’s fingers clenched down on the impulse to fuss over the boy. Between them, Obi-Wan’s heart monitor beat a slow, steady rhythm.

“I met her to give her her 2-hour notice. After she leaves Alderaan, my Queen will send a missive to the Council, officially withdrawing Alderaan’s support to the Jedi Order.”

Obi-Wan grimaced, only to hiss when that pulled at the large bandage covering half his face. Breha looked down at him, pointedly neatening the covers over him.

“Didn’t have to,” he muttered, the tip of his ears going pink, only to wrinkle his nose when Breha tapped it chidingly.

“Oh, trust me,” Bail said, “this is just the very tip of the iceberg. Tico wanted much worse and Narra wanted to help her. I’m almost certain Manya is using her backdoors into both Temples to introduce a virus into their systems or something along those lines. I've asked her not to tell me anything; plausible deniability, you know?"

Breha gently laughed at the open confusion on the boy’s face.

“You have trusted us with the protection of yourself and your Young, Obi-Wan,” she told him, lightly covering the hand not hooked up to an IV and multiple scanners with hers. “We do not take such a responsibility lightly.”

“If I go back to sleep,” Obi-Wan mumbled, “can I pretend I didn’t hear any of this?”

Breha patted his hand. “That’s quite alright; I can repeat it all over again once you’ve recovered.”

Chapter Text

Considering how he’d woken up the last time, Bail didn’t even mind it this time when he woke up with a crick in his neck. It was worth it to see both children more relaxed, and Suu was there to brandish a regenerator in his face in the morning.

“Whatever you did,” Suu told him fervently while Obi-Wan and Rod were on the comm with Melidaan, “please keep doing it.”

“I’d do it every night if I could, but my neck might protest,” he joked.

“Can I bribe you with priority access with my regenerator?” Suu asked, only partly teasing. “That said, your Highness, I am grateful you’ve taken such a long leave of absence from the Senate. I think Obi-Wan is coming around, but you’re still the only adult either of them are really comfortable with.”

“I can’t guarantee how long I can stay, but I’ll stay as long as I can,” he promised.

She sighed. “I’m grateful, your Highness.”

“As I am grateful for you, too,” he replied. “Obi-Wan seems more alert with each passing day. And- I just wanted to check, Rod’s lungs, they’re-?”

“They’re in good condition,” she assured him with a faint smile. “Rod is generally in good condition, physically speaking. Dorm and Khiyosh did an excellent job regrowing her lungs and then getting them to take.”

Bail let out a sigh of relief. “You can’t help but worry, you know?”

Suu chuckled. “You’re telling me! Despite the circumstances, I’m grateful for Rod, too, for someone else to help poor Sen ride herd on Obi-Wan during his rehabilitation.”

Bail raised his eyebrows. “I thought Obi-Wan was doing well?”

“He is, but he’s constantly overextend himself,” she huffed. “I understand that he may be Force-sensitive, but he still has a physical body with very real limits that he has to relearn now, especially with the pulmonodes.”

“And the optical implant?”

“Once we clear out the last of the infection,” she replied, “the wound will be able to fully heal, and then we can discuss implants. It won’t be pretty, but that’s what the reconstruction is for, isn’t it?” She let out a nervous laugh. “Sen is running tests on the elasticity of the polymer- it’s a bit tricky, with how the boy is still growing. But we’ll get it settled, never you worry, your Highness.”

Bail offered her a smile. “I don’t at all,” he said. “My Queen trusts you, and that’s enough for me.”

She managed a tight smile in reply. “Like I said, I’m grateful for your continued presence, but I know it isn’t sustainable. While Sen has been coping admirably, they aren’t trained to handle such a situation.”

He grimaced, thinking of the young medic who had carefully dogged Obi-Wan’s steps during his observation. As Suu had said, they had shown amazing reserves of strength as she had them assist in Obi-Wan’s multiple surgeries.

“Have they asked for help?”

Suu sighed. “Thankfully. They’ve requested to attend therapy and have suggested that both Obi-Wan and Rod do the same, too.” She rolled her eyes. “Those 2 will be a much harder sell than Sen.”

“I’ll talk to them,” Bail reassured her. “Honestly, there’s no shame in asking for help. Let me think about how else we can support Sen and, in supporting them, support these children.”

Before he became [Codename: Ven], he’d been Sen’s older brother and worked as an attorney for Aldera city. Definitively older, no matter how much Sen insisted that they were twins; with those nifty little medical machines Sen was so found of, Ven had even discovered exactly how much older than Sen he was (374 seconds).

Or rather, how much younger Sen was than him (374 seconds).

(The sputtering fits of rage Sen would erupt into every time he mentioned that was just the icing on the muja tart, really.)

Being with the Aldera city department wasn’t exactly his idea of a dream job, but it let him enter the workforce early and let him steadily work his way up the ranks, not to mention how he was always able to put food on the table while Sen studied their arse off for their dream job. He’d celebrated with his twin like it was his accomplishment too when they landed it: Sen had been a medical intern on attachment to the General Aldera Hospital when Suu Ardele poached them for her personal staff, in service to the Queen. And, well, that was an honour in and of itself, but then Sen had actually met the Queen, and then Ven got to meet her, and she was just as nice as the news holos made her out to be.

Like, it was one thing to provide a service ‘cause you were a professional, especially in the medical field ‘cause your service was literally life-saving, but it was another thing to be personally invested in the Queen and wanting her to have a good life because she was a good person and had smiled and not made fun of him when he’d gotten so tongue-tied in front of her that he forgot how to code-switch.

Ven didn’t consider himself acquaintances with the Queen and he was pretty sure she got briefings on who was related to who before all those meet-and-greets, but the fact that she even asked for said briefings in the first place and that he was a single degree of separation from her (because she definitely knew Sen) was good enough for him.

Parallel lives, separate lives, never to meet except for the yearly dinner the Queen hosted for the families of all her staff, and he was fine with that.

And then Sen came home from work one day looking utterly gutted.

“Hey,” Ven said, startled. “What’s going on?”

“I-.” Sen started to open their mouth, only for their shoulders to sag. “It’s classified,” they said miserably.

Ven raised his eyebrows. “Can you tell me anyway in the least classified way possible? Like, no names or whatever, but, like, tell me what the problem is. Maybe I can- I don’t know, throw an injunction at it.”

His frankly terrible joke made them laugh, at least, even if it was a really sad and pathetic excuse for a laugh.

“I received a patient today,” Sen said sadly. “He’s in the worst condition I’ve ever seen. I think there are only 2? 3? major organs that we aren’t regrowing? Not that they aren't damaged, either, but by regrowing, I mean replacing, ‘cause did I mention he’s in the worst condition I’ve ever seen in my life?”

“Wow, that’s-. Yeah. I mean, I didn’t think you had those sort of cases anymore since you’re based in the palace, but I’m also kind of surprised you’re not staying over to keep an eye on them. I mean, you did that in the past for some of your patients while you were with the hospital," he pointed out.

“I didn’t think we’d get these sorts of patients, either,” Sen admitted, “but the reason is classified. As is the reason why I’m home and not still at the palace medcentre. I mean, he’s in intensive care and under Suu’s personal observation, but I’ve been instructed to get as much rest while I can ‘cause it’s going to be a marathon of a case.”

Ven wrinkled his nose. “Sounds like fun.”

“You haven’t heard the worst part,” Sen admitted glumly. “My patient? He’s 14.”

Ven blinked. “Wow, that’s-. Wow. In Aldera? …wow.”  

“Suu’s taking the lead on the surgeries, thank the Killik, but otherwise, I’m in charge of him. I don’t know why anyone thought that’d be a good thing.”

“They thought it’d be a good thing ‘cause it is a good thing,” Ven said simply. “You’re a good medic and a better person.” His sibling didn’t look convinced so he tried another tack. “Look, you just met your patient today and he’s in, like, the worst shape of his life.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Sen pouted, clearly settling in for a sulk.

“But you read his case file, right? You know what’s wrong with him and how to fix him?”

“Time,” Sen muttered, “time and new organs and multiple surgeries and extensive therapy.”

Ven smiled at them. “There you go,” he said. “You already know what to do. You just got to pace yourself and do it. I mean, Suu said it’d be a marathon, right?”

“We’re looking at years,” Sen said bluntly, “and there’s no guarantee that he’ll ever regain his full range of motion.” They paused. “Actually, he probably won’t ever regain his full range of motion; if he eventually manages 50% of it, I’ll count it as a win.”

Well, that was karked up.

“I think you’ll need to find yourself a classified therapist,” he said, “just as soon as you get one for the kid, too.”

Sen sighed and leant into him. “That just might have been the most sensible thing you’ve said all day.”

Ven smiled and put his arm around them. “What are twins for?”

He’d thought that was that. There were more bad days than good for a while, and there was a stretch of time where Ven slept on top of Sen to make sure they stayed in bed and hadn't snuck out in the middle of their night to join their mystery patient back in the palace medwing. And then every once in a while, they’d have a good day, and Ven would take selfies of them so Sen could remember that during the bad days.

“Is he still classified?” Ven would ask every once in a while.

“He’s more classified than the palace’s medical budget,” Sen had said once.

Ven had blinked that first time. “The palace’s medical budget?” he echoed.

“The palace’s medical budget,” they had replied with a firm nod. Sen always had a different answer every time he asked that question, and after awhile, it became a bit of a game of theirs.

“Is he still classified?

“More than the guard rotation at court.”

“More than the designs of Miss Basu’s headscarves.”

“More than his Highness’s cloak collection.”

“More than the themes of the annual court migration to Castle Lands.”

“More than the braided patterns of her Majesty’s hair.”

Ven lost it at the last one. “Her Majesty’s hair? Killik, Sen, do you need a trip to the medbay?”

They giggled, flopping on the sofa on top of him. “This is literally a state secret, but sometimes the Queen has messages woven into her hair through the placement of her braids, the ribbons, and their colour.”

Ven winced. “If it’s a state secret, should you really be telling me that?”

Sen flapped a hand in his face. “It’s fine, how many state secrets are you already keeping?”

“Yeah, but I keep Judicial’s secrets,” he muttered, “not tell ‘em to my sibling when I’m exhausted. How’s therapy working out for you?”

Sen sighed, slumping against him. “Some days, it’s all that’s keeping me afloat.”

Ven wrapped an arm around them, holding them close. “Hey,” he said seriously, “if it’s getting you down this bad-.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Sen interrupted, “but I’m not going to stop.”

“You can’t help anyone if you’re dead,” he said flatly.

Sen exhaled, their head dropping to rest on his shoulder. “I’m getting the help I need,” they said. “Suu knows, and even His Highness came to speak to me.”

“Knowing and speaking is all well and good, but not if they aren’t doing anything about it!”

Sen settled more fully on top of him.

“I’m about to turn a corner with-.” They cut themselves off abruptly.

Ven sighed. “Classified, I know.”

“He’s actually getting better,” Sen insisted.

“But not at your expense. I’ll go to Suu myself if I have to.”

“Don’t!”

Suffice to say, that conversation didn’t end well.

It took about 8 months for the good and bad days to even out, and another 6 months after that for Sen to come home with a different hitch in their step.

“Ven,” they began, “how much do you like your job as a city attorney?”

“Eh.” He held up a hand parallel to the ground and wiggled it. “What’s up?”

“Um. Wouldyouliketoworkinthepalace?”

Ven blinked. “…I think I understood that, but just to be sure, let’s try again, shall we? And remember to breathe in between.”

Sen was growing red. “…would you like to work in the palace?”

Ven frowned. “Is someone suing the Queen?”

“No!” Sen exclaimed. “Not as an attorney.”

“Sen, don’t know if you noticed, but all I am is trained as an attorney,” he said flatly.

His sibling was digging in their heels, though. “Being an attorney is what you do, not who you are.”

“I don’t think the palace needs me to be me, though,” he pointed out.

“It’s my patient,” Sen confessed in a rush.

“Your mystery patient who’s more classified than the Queen’s hair?”

Sen flushed. “Forget about Her Majesty’s hair, Ven, I’m being serious.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Me too."

Sen made a frustrated noise, rubbing at their temple.

“Hey,” Ven said, a little startled now, “why don’t we just- take a step back, and start again from the beginning, okay? It’s not an emergency, right?”

“No, but I will need to send in a reply-!”

“Immediately?”

“No, but-!”

“Then it’s fine,” Ven insisted, tugging his sibling down to sit on the sofa and then sitting on top of them. “Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and then let’s try this again.”

Sen was pouting now, but they wouldn’t appreciate his pointing it out. Still, at least they did as he asked, sagging under his weight.

“My- my patient,” they began.

Ven nodded in encouragement. “Your mysterious classified patient.”

Sen glared at him and he mimed soldering his lips shut. “They’re improving. Finally.” Hadn't Sen referred to them as 'him' before? “And they will need to be engaged outside of their physical rehabilitation in a more structured manner.”

Ven nodded cautiously. He didn’t get what this had to do with him, though.

“There are only a limited number of people Suu is considering as options,” Sen continued. “They’re still classified, and- honestly, depending on the agreement they reach with Her Majesty and His Highness, for good measure. They don’t need the attention,” they muttered.

Ven nodded again, encouraging his twin to keep going. He still didn’t see what he had to do with this.

“I said they were healing, right? They’re getting to the point where they won’t be distracted by their physical recovery anymore.” Sen was repeating themselves, but Ven figured they just needed to hear their thoughts aloud. “I’m certain they’ll blow the Galactic standard out of atmo- well, one of them will, which makes it all the more important-.”

“Wait,” he interrupted, ignoring Sen’s glare, “one of them? Wasn’t there just one of ‘em?”

“I was saying ‘them’ this entire time!”

Ven rolled his eyes. “You’re a ‘them’ and you’re just one person. You were calling them 'him' before, too; I just thought they found a more appropriate gender along with...everything else they? he? was up to.”

They pulled a face. “Alright, fair enough. There- there are 2, the younger one came later. Only the older one was under my purview.”

“Why?” If 14 was old, he really didn't want to ask the age of the younger one.

Sen’s mouth tightened. “Because my speciality is physical rehabilitation, not mental.”

Ven winced. “Sorry,” he muttered. “So- the older one’s healed up enough physically, and the younger one’s steady enough for- more.”

Sen drew a steadying breath. “Yes,” they replied. “Her Majesty was hoping to get their academics back on track - that’s where you would come in.”

Ven gaped. “Excuse me? I’m a- an attorney, not a teacher!”

Sen gripped him tight. “You’re brilliant,” they insisted, “you worked your way into an attorney position from a clerk, but more importantly, you’re smart.”

“Uh- thanks, I guess?”

Sen shook their head. “I’m not saying this properly,” they muttered, “but you’re so much more than test-smart and you don’t take kriffing anything from anyone. They- kind of need to learn that, but in a more subtle way.” Sen sighed, running a hand through their hair. “Currently, their default setting is to kill first and ask questions later.”

Ven blinked. “I’m sorry, I thought I just heard you say your 14-year-old patient in a kriffed up condition and their mentally unstable younger partner have a reflex to kill first and ask later.”

Sen sighed again. “Yeah.”

“And you want me to-?” Ven wasn’t afraid to admit that his voice cracked midway.

“They’re not dangerous.”

“You literally just said they-!”

“They’re- not unreasonable,” Sen tried. “And given their circumstances, I can’t blame them-.”

“You can’t blame them for killing people?” he squawked.

“No,” Sen said firmly, looking him in the eye. “Because they were being murdered first. Children were being murdered first, and the only way they stayed alive was to murder back.”

Ven wasn’t often at a loss for words, but he really couldn’t find an adequate swearword. In hindsight, a lot of Sen’s frustrations and exhaustion made sense. They were talking about a 14-year-old kid with multiple organ replacements, and his partner was even younger. That they were also karked in the head was the least surprising part of this. In the end, all Ven could do was shake his head.

“If anything, I really don't understand why you want me involved. Sounds like they need- therapy. Copious, copious amounts of therapy.”

“Therapy that they are currently getting,” Sen gently assured him. “But they need more, too.”

“Yeah, a trained educator and guidance councillor.”

“They would eat them alive,” Sen said flatly.

“You’re not worried about them eating me alive?” he squeaked.

“No,” Sen said firmly, “because you won’t let them.”

“How do you know that?” he demanded.

“Because you won’t pity them.”

Ven opened his mouth to instinctively retort- only to pause. Pity was…really not a feeling he was feeling right now.

“Isn’t- isn’t fear a concern?” he eventually managed out.

Sen sighed. “If anything, I’m concerned you’ll just enable each other.”

“Hey,” Ven protested, “you’re making me sound like I’d get along with a couple of child murderers.”

“Don’t talk about them like that,” Sen said briskly, “but also, yes, because I know you.”

“Rude.”

After a few minutes of stifling silence, Sen prompted him again.

“Well? There's that saying, right? 'Curiosity killed the manka cat'?"

Ven burst into hysterical laughter. "That is not how you use it, and the follow-up phrase is 'but aggression brought it back'."

"See? You're a natural."

He was a sucker for his sibling's tooka eyes, more like.

...Killik kriff it. “Is it all or nothing?”

Sen smiled widely. "I'm sure we can work something out."

The next day, they brought him to the palace to meet Obi-Wan Kenobi and Rod. Ven screamed in Obi-Wan's face when the boy's eye popped out of its socket.

"It's a fake eye!" the boy had yelped. "Sen and I're still working out the fit!"

"By the Killik," he wheezed, "Sen only said you were regrowing organs, not eyeballs! Is the other one fake, too?"

"It's one of the few that ain't," Rod said shortly, arms folded across her chest.

"Well, my limbs are still intact," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"The outsides are crunchy," Rod translated, "but them centre is still gooey."

"Great description for a cookie," Ven said faintly. "Less so for a human being." He paused, looking Obi-Wan in his remaining eye. "It really doesn't hurt?"

The boy smiled. "No, not at all, the port's completely healed through, the nerve endings won't even be connected till the prosthetic gets finalised."

"Cool," he rasped. "Uh- I brought grapes, I guess, 'cause that's what you do when you visit people at the medcentre."

"You bring patients grapes?" Obi-Wan asked. "Is this an Alderaanian custom?"

"Nah, not grapes specifically, just fruit. 'Cause it's full of nutrients, right? And I thought grapes would be easy to eat?"

"I ain't never seen them before," Rod said, leaning forward to prod suspiciously at his carton of grapes. "You'll be able to tell if they're poisoned, right, Obi?"

"I- I'm not going to poison you with grapes!" Ven sputtered.

"So you'd poison us with something else?" Obi-Wan teased slyly. Well- Ven was mostly sure Obi-Wan was teasing, but he was also pretty sure that was a knife up Rod's sleeve, and all he could think of was: kill first, ask later.

"I wouldn't poison you at all!" he protested. "Look, I'll eat a grape to prove it."

"You can just pick a grape you know ain't poisoned," Rod said, snatching the carton. "Here, I'll do it," she said - and threw a grape at his mouth.

It bounced off his lips to roll sadly under Obi-Wan's bed.

"...does that mean it poisoned?"

"No," Ven growled, "it just means I can't catch grapes with my mouth!"

"Anyone can catch 'em in their mouths, they huge," Rod said with a frown, and threw another grape at him.

He was almost prepared this time, catching the grape with his hands on the rebound and then popping it into his mouth. "There, happy?"

"No," Rod said frankly, "you supposed to catch 'em with your mouth - see?"

She tossed a grape in the air and snapped her teeth around it with a sort of grim finality.

"...nice. Can you catch a grape with your mouth?" Ven asked Obi-Wan.

"Probably not without cheating," the boy replied. "I mean, I've learnt to compensate for my lack of depth perception-."

"You should practice, then," Rod declared, and threw a grape at Obi-Wan. It bounced off his nose and landed in his empty eye socket.

"You should get a prize for that," Ven blurted out.

Sen later told him it was the first time they'd heard either child laugh.

Several years later...

He chased after that distinctive hood, darting forward that last crucial inch to yank it off - only to bare Rod’s kark-eating grin.

“You- you little- where is he?” Ven demanded.

Rod’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Eh, not like you’re gonna catch him anyway,” she said, and jerked her thumb over her shoulder, at the window leading to the four-storey drop.

“He did not-!”

Ven flung himself past Rod, the balcony rail ramming into his gut just in time for him to watch Ben’s identically-cloaked form land incongruously lightly on his feet, four storeys down.

“You kriffing karker!”

Ben’s head jerked up just enough for Ven to see the glint of his bionic eye and the corner of his very unapologetic grin. The karker even had the gall to wave before jumping a hedge and disappearing into the garden.

“Were you calling the Royal Heir names again?” [Codename: Wen] was another of the kids’ attendants, bearing a striking resemblance to Sheltay Retrac, one of His Highness’s personal aides.

Ven sighed. “Rod isn’t even there anymore, is she.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m afraid not,” Wen replied mildly. “She was gone before I arrived, and I was summoned by the siren song of your shouting.” She paused, and then asked, “Did he jump from this floor?”

Ven rubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t see anything other than the landing, but it looked like, yeah.”

“Kark it,” she swore, “I owe Sen money. I didn’t think he’d try for four-storeys till next month.”

“You were betting-.” He didn’t know why he was surprised.

“You do realise they’re never going to stop until they can guarantee they’ve tricked all of us, up to and including Her Majesty and His Highness?” Wen pointed out.

“Why don’t you ever have any good news,” he muttered.

Wen smiled beatifically. “The Royal Heir’s decoy trick worked?”