These Violent Delights

Chapter 49: Love & War

Getting in contact with the woman from the celebration that gave you your number, Myla, was easy. Getting to the city of Unlos Tagge was even easier. But making your way to their home? A kriffing nightmare.

"Come on, you stupid fucking thing, move your ass!" you yelled, kicking the sides of the speeder bike you were straddling.

The stupid thing wasn't yours. You had simply borrowed it to get where you needed to go. However, in the spirit of goodwill, you had left the owner a little something that would cover the cost of his missing inventory. But based on the condition of the dilapidated hunk of junk, you were pretty sure you had actually done him a favor by stealing it. You just needed it to work.

"Seriously? Why are you doing this to me, huh? Is this fucking funny to you?" you whispered, to nobody, as the bike sputtered beneath you. You groaned, getting increasingly agitated as you kept trying, and failing, to start the engine. It wasn't until you began shouting profanities at it that you realized you had to pull it the fuck together. "Okay, okay, okay. Calm down," you breathed, closing your eyes. "In through my nose, out through my mouth. Just breathe."

You felt stupid talking to yourself, but you knew the stakes were higher now than ever. After your Force-meeting with Kylo courtesy of that stupid pendant, it's almost like you could still feel him watching you. Of course, you couldn't prove it, but the warm, tingling sensation that lingered underneath your skin led you to believe he was secretly exploiting your linked minds. If you focused on the sensation too much, you could feel it spike in your blood, almost like it was getting stronger. So over the last five days, you'd been doing your best to ignore the stirring, along with the words of Organa so stubbornly playing on repeat in your mind.

This crystal truly, unequivocally belongs to you. As does the power within it.

You shook your head to yourself, as if the gesture would deem it untrue. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn't know for sure that it wasn't true, but you couldn't process anything like that right now. You were too busy running from your psycho-captor-lover and needed to take things one step at a time. And the first step was to get this stupid machine to work.

You sat up straight and tried to clear your mind. You visualized the bike starting below you, shuddering as it roared to life. You imagined yourself departing from this empty part of town, flying through the city and making it to your safe haven. Please...please, I need this. Someone, help me. Please...please. The longer you repeated this to yourself, the more at ease you felt. It sank into your bones and consumed you from the inside out, leaving nothing behind except a sense of weightlessness and confidence that it would work. Biting your lip, you tried to start it again, and with a deafening rumble, the engine roared to life.

You stared down, dumbfounded. A tightness seized your throat. Your body began to tremble, your pulse accelerated. That same humming vibration thrummed to life in your blood. But this time, it didn't set you on edge. You weren't afraid. You were just grateful someone answered your prayer. Pressing on the gas, you began your journey to MD-670 Place.

Even with the cool air hitting your face as you rode through the city, you could still smell the salt and moss from inside that godforsaken bunker. You could still feel the dampness of the dirt flying up from under your feet as you fled back to your quarters, away from Leia and that necklace. It had only been five days, but it felt like a lifetime ago. After the confrontation in that musty cavern, you suspected that General Organa assumed you just needed space to cool off, that eventually, your curiosity would win out, and you'd stick around to meet Skywalker. But little did she know, the moment you got behind closed doors you called Zeven to help you escape Crait.

You held your breath as you veered left, carefully maneuvering around a fountain as you thought about how Zev returned within twenty minutes and had a shuttle arranged for you within ten. She wanted to come with you, like the good best friend she was, but now that there was a chance Kylo could find you in the flesh, you told her it was best to go separate ways. At least for now. You couldn't stomach the idea of putting her in harm's way. She reluctantly agreed, insisting she'd at least help you leave the base undetected.

She slipped away to survey the best escape route, and when she got back, she said that Leia and your team were in the central cavern, waiting for you with reinforcements in case you tried to leave. This left you no choice but to slink through the musty, dark corridors in search of an unused staircase. It didn't take long to find one tucked away behind hidden cargo boxes, but the descent went on forever, with each level sinking deeper and deeper into a harsh, bitter cold.

Once you reached the lowest level, it spat you out in a network of rat-infested tunnels. With the help of a map and Zeven's flashlight, the two of you walked for miles until you found an exit furthest from the hangar doors. You didn't know what to expect when you crawled through that small opening of rocks, but you sure as hell could have never guessed the pilot Zeven procured for you—a fucking Mandalorian.

When you asked Zeven how she arranged that of all things, she just smiled and said that Din Djarin the bounty hunter owed her. You had cocked a skeptical brow at her, but she brushed it off and pulled you into a hug. "A story for another time," she had whispered, holding onto you fiercely. "Because I will see you again. Right?"

You didn't want to break her heart and tell her the truth: you weren't sure if, and when, you'd see her again. Not when the Supreme Leader, Leia, and Luke Skywalker were all pursuing you. So you did what any best friend would do. You lied. "Of course, Zev. This isn't goodbye. It's just a see-ya-later," you had said before giving her one last squeeze. Once you worked up the courage to let go, you smiled through your tears and turned around.

"Hey," she had called out, followed up by your name, "I'm proud of you."

You turned, glancing at her. "Oh? For what?"

"You didn't forget who you are."

A sad smile touched your lips. "You're right, Zeven. I didn't." You threw your bag over your shoulder and gave her a wink. "I couldn't even if I tried." You boarded the shuttle and didn't look back.

As the memory faded, you had to slow down the speeder bike, a pang of guilt shooting through your chest. If you closed your eyes, you could still feel Zeven's sadness as you walked away. It hurt your soul, but you knew being on the run without any attachments would be your new norm. This nomadic lifestyle was something you had asked the Mandalorian about during your journey—how do you do it? Why do you do it? Does it get easier?

You didn't have extensive knowledge of the Mandalorian culture, but you knew from your own days in the gang that many of the bounty hunters and mercenaries were still in hiding after the Empire's purge of their kind. Your attempt at conversation was a moot point, however, because even though you spent five whole days with the man, he didn't indulge you in any deep conversations. All you got from him was that he preferred to be called Mando, he didn't trust droids, and he didn't identify with the First Order or the Resistance.

He was just...Mando. He was nice enough, though, and very respectful, but it was hard to connect with a person that never showed his face. You found yourself wondering if there was even a real person under all of that Beskar armor. The only time you got any indication that he was actually human was when he interacted with his child. Well, not his child, but the kid, as he so creatively called him. Mando was fiercely protective of him and wouldn't let you near at first, but the little creature had a mind of its own. And for some reason, he seemed to be very drawn to you.

As many times as Mando returned him to his cradle pod, the kid kept finding a way out to waddle over to you. He would tap on your leg and coo at you, looking up at you with big, perceptive eyes. For some reason, you felt a strong sense of connection with that small, strange creature, but you couldn't pinpoint why. All you knew was that he made you feel less alone. And when you finally arrived on Tepasi, you were a little sad to say goodbye to the kid, but ready to get out of Mando's hair. When you insisted on giving him some credits for food, shelter, and transportation, he shut you down with a shake of his head.

"My debt to Zeven has now been repaid," he had said as he pressed the button to close the ramp of his ship. "This is the way."

You let out a deep sigh as you slowed down, turning into a pristinely manicured neighborhood. What an interesting man, you thought as you pulled under a tree and let the bike shutter off. Hopping off, you propped it up and grabbed the small satchel you were traveling with. It was the only possession to your name, along with the clothes on your back, which weren't much either: weathered boots, green cargo pants, and a tan men's bomber jacket with the Resistance emblem sloppily sewn onto the front pocket. You knew you would need additional provisions if you were going to make your way through the galaxy, especially as an escaped First Order prisoner and Resistance defector.

And hopefully, that's where the Korras came in. You hugged the shrubbery on the right side of the street, quickly approaching the cul-de-sac up ahead. It was a quiet night, with crickets chirping and a soft breeze tickling your face. The street lights gave you ample visibility, but they weren't needed on a night like tonight; the full moon offered a cool glow that reflected off the pavement like melted ice. It only took moments for your feet to carry you to MD-670 Place, the biggest house on the street. You kept low to the ground as you walked up the stone pathway, keeping your sights fixed on their red door. It was unlocked for you, just as Myla said it would be.

You held your breath as you slipped inside their house. Even though you had an invitation to be here, you felt like an intruder as you stepped further into the dimly lit, eerily quiet foyer. Their home was massive, stunning, with artwork and sculptures of the female body lining the walls. You heard a soft, low hum throughout the house, and judging by the draft that tickled your neck, you assumed it was their cooling system. Bringing your arms across your chest, you croaked out a hoarse whisper.

"Umm...hello?" When there was no response, you shuffled your feet and raised your voice. "Is anyone home?"

Walking to the center of the room, you stopped at the base of the imperial staircase, craning your neck up to look for any signs of life. But it was utterly and completely silent, and for one terrifying moment, you thought maybe you were in the wrong house.

MD-670, or was it MB-670? Or was it ND-670? Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, you panicked, taking slow steps backward. You were almost to the door when you felt your shoulder blade connect with a sculpture. You gasped when you heard the base rock back and forth against the white marble floors.

"Oh, fuck!" you yelled, thankfully spinning around just in time to catch it from falling over. You weren't an expert on art appraisal, but you had a feeling you'd have to sell an organ to afford a replacement for something like that.

After you set it straight again, footsteps and shuffling came from upstairs as a woman said your name. "Hello? Is that you?" she called out, her accent similar to Vicrul's.

"Yes, uh...hi. I'm so sorry for the noise."

"Don't be," she said with a yawn. "We're sorry for not being here to greet you, darling. We didn't mean to fall asleep."

The crystal chandelier flickered on, and you squinted to look up at the top of the stairs. You blinked a few times as a stunning, full-bodied brunette emerged from the upstairs corridor. She was dressed in a black silk robe with matching slippers, and her hair was thrown up in a messy bun. Yellowish-brown bruises covered her legs and arms, complementing the gash under her eye that extended down her throat. As she got closer, you recognized her as the woman that was on Vicrul's lap that night of the attack.

"Ixxie, right?" you asked, offering a smile as she took the last step off the stairs. "Please, don't apologize for falling asleep. I know it's much later than we agreed on, but the bike wouldn't start, and—"

She tutted at you. "Nonsense. I'm just glad you made it okay. I was worried that they found you before you could find us," she insisted, crossing the foyer to greet you. She pulled you into a hug, followed by a kiss on either cheek. Keeping her hands on your shoulders, she looked you up and down, frowning. "You look tired. Can I feed you before you go? Get you some coffee?" She didn't wait for an answer before threading her arm in yours, leading you down the corridor. "We have a great Black Spire Outpost Brew from Batuu—have you heard of it? It's way out there, basically on the edge of the galaxy. But their coffee is to die for."

You grimaced, unpleasant memories of actually almost dying on Batuu flooding your mind, but you didn't want to disappoint her; she was so damn excited about her coffee. "That would be great, thank you."

"Lovely," she sang, letting go of your arm. She gestured for you to enter the spacious, immaculately clean living area and split off into the long, rectangular kitchen adjacent to it. The only thing separating the two spaces was a kitchen bar with some stools, but other than that, the floor plan was very open and airy with minimal, yet sleek decor.

"Myla will be right down, dear," Ixxie said, glancing at you from the kitchen. "She's just grabbing a few things for you."

"Thank you," you murmured, nodding at her. She followed up with a wave of her hand, telling you to get comfortable as she made some coffee.

You doubted you could relax with the sense of urgency to move on hanging over you, but you let out a breath and took in your surroundings. Two tauntaun pelt chairs sat in one corner of the room, with their tusks used to support a glass table between them. Across from that, where you were now standing, was a massive, L-shaped, white sofa and a floating, rotating glass coffee table in front of it. This part of the house boasted floor-to-ceiling glass walls, showcasing a massive, well-groomed backyard. It was lovely, but you had never been more aware of your run-down appearance than you were right now.

Ixxie's nearing footsteps snagged your attention. "Here, love. The best cup of coffee you will ever have." Handing you a mug, she gestured at the sofa. "Come on, let's sit and get cozy."

"Thank you, Ixxie, but I can't get too comfortable. The Supreme Leader and his knights, and I bet even Stormtroopers, will be patrolling soon." You frowned as you clutched your mug. "If they aren't already."

"I understand," she said, plopping down on the couch. She looked up at you and patted the cushion next to her. "We would never put you in danger, but we have a reason to believe they won't be here tonight—if you are interested in hearing why."

You hesitated but nodded all the same. "Okay." You sank down next to her, and your tired bones were immediately eased by the comfort of the cushions.

Ixxie repositioned so that her slippers were on the couch, facing you. "So, we haven't seen Stormtroopers since the Supreme Leader himself was here, about a week ago now, but Vicrul was here two days ago. Our security camera picked up a conversation he had over a commlink, talking about being on some planet called Exegol until tomorrow, so you might have time to recharge for a few hours, doll."

You slowly nodded, bringing the rim of the mug to your lips. While their time on Exegol could be seen as a tactic to find you through your dreamscape again, at least they would be far, far away from here. You tried to give her a smile. "Thank you, Ixxie."

"Yep! No problem, hon. He also said something about some guy named Luke, a crystal, and the millennial falcon," she laughed, throwing her hair over her shoulder. "Whatever the hell that means."

"Luke is going to use the crystal on them," you said, guilt swarming in your belly. Was this your fault? Could you have done anything to stop it if you had waited to speak to Skywalker on Crait? You felt sick. "Oh my gods."

The amusement drained from Ixxie's face. "Love, what is it? What do you mean?"

"I..."

"Oh, there you are," came a feminine voice, followed by your name. "So sorry for the delay. I had to—whoa, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I'm...okay. It's nothing," you lied, looking up at Myla. Seeing her kind face—albeit bruised and battered—made you feel safe, warm. On top of the eye patch she had on, she also had a red, angry mark on her throat. Just by the shape and placement of it, you knew that wasn't from the attack on Coruscant. Your heart dropped as you swung a hand up, gesturing to the bruise. "Um...I'm assuming the visit the Supreme Leader paid you wasn't particularly civil?"

"Oh, no, it was fine. Don't worry about me. I can handle a big, bad man with a temper." Myla waved dismissively, but you still caught the look they shared before she sat down.

"I know he can be..." you trailed off, looking between them. "Unreasonable. I'm so sorry."