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VERY FEW people knew Araminta. Being known was a weakness. She knew it, and letting Anakin know her the way he did was a calculated decision she had made a long time ago. But no one knew her like someone she had worked alongside with. Knowing the training she had endured was different, knowing that the brand meant she was capable and worthy of Octavian's name was different.
Somskay had been right beside her. She had watched her drive blades into throats and stood idly as Araminta pried information out of uncooperative leads, and more often than not, Somskay had helped. They had been covered in the same blood and Somskay had reaped rewards with her, she had seen what it meant to represent Octavian past being marked.
She had seen the time leading up to Araminta's departure, the moments in the field that had shaped her and made her Octavian's designated strongest. No one in two years had come so close, and the thought terrified Araminta, who had hardly slept that night in case she was caught silently off guard again.
She wondered if it terrified Somskay, too, that if Araminta wished she could make the villagers never want to look at her again, that Araminta had disarmed her so quickly when they had reunited, that she knew Somskay always fired off three shots first before reloading, a compulsive habit of the Mirialan.
Think of the devil, and she would appear, as Araminta woke early as per usual, slotting her knife into its sheath and being met by Somskay's inquisitive eyes across the village.
"You sleep with a knife," Somskay mused as Araminta approached.
She only shrugged. "Some habits don't die."
Somskay scanned her up and down. "No, they don't."
Araminta only blinked at her, feeling as if she had been dropped into a memory from a time she never wanted to revisit. "There's something I don't understand," she said slowly.
"Hm?" Somskay hummed.
"What happened after I left?" she asked, the question burning at her since Somskay had reintroduced herself the day prior. Asking was opening up to a lie, but if the cut through the Mirialan's brand was anything to go off, she was about as loyal to Octavian as Araminta was.
A dark look came over Somskay's face, one that looked out of place on someone who had always, in Araminta's eyes, had a softness to her that stuck out in their ranks. "Octavian told everyone you had betrayed us and joined the Jedi."
It made sense. "Guess that's easier than explaining he sent me on a suicide mission," Araminta admitted.
Somskay's brows furrowed. "A suicide mission?"
"Yeah. I got lucky that Kenobi and Skywalker didn't kill me on the spot and gave me a debt to repay," Araminta explained.
The way Somskay looked at her told Araminta this was new information– had she really thought for two years that Araminta had switched ranks at the drop of a hat? Had everyone else? Araminta knew the answer. Of course. Octavian's word had been law, and even as Somskay looked at her oddly, Araminta knew she still doubted the other assassin.
