The Knight, Death, and the Devil

Epilogue

There's something funny about a story where, in the end, only the dead get what they want.

Vathamma gained responsibility without power. A Mandalorian who desired a perfect death, received an imperfect life. Ziare's boundless hunger was finally put to rest, and Isatryn's last wish that Torin not forget her remained fulfilled.

Maybe it was a good thing that he had never had a chance to tell her that he wouldn't forget. Every other promise he'd made, he had broken. He never did find Ayahe. With no trace of the girl and no trail to follow, he had no idea where to begin searching.

Luckily, she found him. He received a pre-recorded video call, a brief message telling him that she was safe with her new travelling companion. The thought of her jetting around the galaxy with a stranger had made his blood run cold. The moment the camera turned, the reality of who her companion was had him gripping the computer console and shaking it in a hot panic.

Which led him to break the other promise he'd made to himself. Tinnel IV was still firmly under Republic jurisdiction, and with the truce between them and the Empire still holding, that wasn't going to change anytime soon. Vathamma was still technically a Lord of the Sith Empire, and even though she lacked any actual political power, her species alone made long-term residence on the planet impossible.

Not that that had stopped him from delicately broaching the possibility with her. She had called it a 'backwater suitable only for inbred farmers,' and that had put the matter to rest.

So, he gifted the deed for his home to Ayahe. Nine months later, he came to his former home planet, where his ship skated across a purple sky before descending over sweeping fields of amber grain. A two-story home with white walls and gleaming bronzed domes lay in the distance, surrounded by derelict ships in varying stages of repair. He decloaked, then set his small ship down amongst the lumbering hulks littering what had once been his farm. Despite its questionable legality in Empire or Republic space, the stealth craft had been too useful to part with. It was a bit small, but he didnt have much use for more than one bedroom anyway.

A garage door in front of the home retracted, and two figures walked out to greet the ship as the ramp lowered—Maliss and Ayahe, the former smaller without her armor and the latter a few inches taller from time's passage.

The ramp hit the ground, and Torin walked out, his hands held tight to the shoulders of the Sith in front of him. She waddled awkwardly down the ramp, her hands supporting her swollen belly.

"I don't need your help to walk," she huffed.

Ignoring her protests, he continued his slow shuffle at her rear until they were on solid ground.

"Good God." Maliss stared at her stomach. "Is it his?"

Vathamma scoffed, then noticed Torin staring apprehensively at her. "Yes, it's his!"

Ayahe unfolded her hands and walked towards Torin, then put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him on either cheek. Last time he saw her, she would have needed a footstool.

"It is good to see you again."

"Y-you too," he stammered.

Vathamma scowled at her and yanked Torin back by the arm. "What was that?"

"A customary Twi'lek greeting," the girl replied.

"Oh, really?" Vathamma pointed at her own cheek. "Then do it to me."

Ayahe stared at her blankly for a few moments before looking away. "No, I do not think so." With that she turned and went into the garage, leaving Vathamma to grumble incredulously.