Private A Murder of Crows

[Rhaegar Nemesis Dib]

The darkness of the room concealed the couple as they lay upon the bed, the sheets tangled about their forms. Even in the dim illumination his eyes traced the curvature of his riduur's body. It wasn't the one she was born to, the sheath her spirit wore when they had battled against one another. Two dragons refusing to bow to the other. No, this flesh came afterwards when Manda'yaim gave of herself to house a daughter of the Manda. It was the beginning.

A form forged of Manda'yaim by the power of the Force, fused with the eternal hymns of the Manda and shaped through the ministration of the Force. It was a one of a kind body for a one of a kind woman.

His Gin'ika.

Silently he slipped from the broken bed and attempted to pad quietly away. Pausing in the doorway he turned and looked back. His chest tightened as he swallowed hard. He thought he had lost this, lost her, but somehow he had a second chance. With Gin'ika and with the twins. His breath caught in his throat as emotions threatened to spill out, the cool exterior of control unable to quell the tide of feelings. Easing the door closed he made his way down the hall, avoiding the trip hazards of strewn clothing that littered the path.

Pausing he raised his head, the shaggy mane falling across his shoulders, as he inhaled deeply. The scent of recycled oxygen with a chemical tang burned his nostrils. Something that didn't belong to his house. Stalking forward a silent predator on the hunt he slipped into his den that had been virtually untouched in his untimely demise. There in front of his desk a man was placing a satchel. The fact that Rhaegar could taste the testosterone wafting from the armored figure concerned him. But not as much as the fact that his body had been prepared to launch across the room at the figure.

His mind tamped down the instinct of his new body as he stepped back to merge with the shadows along the wall. Marek left the satchel and departed the den unawares of Rhaegar's presence. Watching the Mandalorian depart before moving, Rhae walked forward to investigate what had been dropped off. A note was pinned to the exterior.
“Thought you might enjoy a suit that fits ~ Muad”

Reaching in he pulled out several pressed garments and released a low chuckle. His original clothing was certainly not going to fit. The new body was taller, broader, and thicker than what he was born with. And wearing the stretchable undergarments may be fine in company with his riduur, it was quite inappropriate for guests. Quickly he dressed in the suit, his hands running down the front press of the shirt. Moving to one of the chairs he sat.

A slight frown twitched his lips as he shifted in his seat and stretched his legs out. Even now the size of his form was seemingly gargantuan. His hand lightly rubbed his chin, brushing the hair adorning his face. He'd cut his hair and shaved the previous night while showering, amidst other activities, and yet the mane and beard grew exponentially. It was a conundrum. However not the only one.

Stretching out his hand he summoned the Force and attempted to pull one of the other chairs across the room. There wasn't even a tremble in the legs of the chair. Frowning he released the flow of the Force and leaned back and thought of the mirror he looked into the evening before. When the Force began to flow within him his eyes glowed, but not his old crimson, a bright radiant blue. There was still so much he didn't understand about his body and ironically he felt the trial and error of puberty would mirror his experiences with this form.

The sky outside the window barely lightened, heralding the coming dawn. A new day. Today he would see his children and, for the first time, be able to hold them.

Ginnie Dib Rhaegar Dib II Amma Dib

 

[Amma Dib]

Life’d seemed so simple this morning, when she’d woken early enough to read or tidy up before making stim-caf for the adults of the house. Sure, she took a sip or two, mixed in hot cocoa. Not because she couldn’t take stim-caf, but because Amma loved chocolate.

Uncle Derek knew… She’d stood in front of the kettle, mugs lined up with the ingredients the aliit liked best. Black stim-caf for her mother, with protein & vitamin powder Amma snuck in to help with Ginnie's perpetual hangovers. Sweet honey for Marek. Cream for Jarek. No stim-caf for RhaeRhae ‘cause Amma wasn’t stupid enough to caffeinate her twin, and he’d never wake up early enough for it anyway. Uncle Derek’s favourite mug sat dormant.

What mug would her father want? How did he take his morning stim-caf? Suddenly, Amma could no longer quantify and control her tiny world. In that moment of existential panic, she heard Elvis take the first container of Derek’s belongings to the cargo ship.

Uncle Derek’s mug shattered in her hands.

“Noooonononononono. No. NO!” A young feminine voice mounted in increasing panic down the hall. Past where the children slept, where Gin’ika laid in glowing splendour under their sheets. Further toward the other end of the house, a petulant shout of ‘no’ was chased by the thud of an android body against a wall. “Oh sheepwhistle! No, Cher I’m sorry I didn’t… you’re not… stop… Stop packing Uncle Dede’s room!”

Amma screeched clattering to pick up the telekinetically shoved droid without letting go of the bundle in her arms. Uncle Derek’s things, from Uncle Derek’s room.

A room with pressurized containers waiting their fill for shipping to Siskeen.

“Don’t! Don’t do it, you can’t I…” Amma threw herself over a pile of what little clothing was left, a few books. A data pad. Change was the deviant Amma avoided. Change meant uncertainty, which thrust her world further into as chaotic a bent as RhaeRhae or Ba’vodu Muad. “Stop it!”

How could she be calm and steady if Uncle Derek wasn’t there to remind her how to breathe? It didn’t occur to her yet that her father could help. All Amma felt was the pang of Derek leaving. The finality of their new arrangement snapped at her skin like stinging beetles on Dathomir. Cher gave the droid equivalent of a sigh, walked to the closet and took down the one sweater Amma missed in her mad grab.

“Gotta get used to it, kiddo. Derek’s got responsibilities of his own and your Dad’s back! That’s fine, isn’t it? C’mon. Off the stuff.”

“RRRRGH! I hate this!” Green sparks combusted in the air, harmless for now, but growing in frequency. Still clutching the datapad and two of Derek’s books, Amma pushed the faithful droid across the room, and ran out. Down the hall in bare feet, edging around man-pants strewn on the floor. Ew. Dressed in star patterned pyjama pants and a navy blue tank, Amma threw on one of Derek’s hopelessly large sweaters, which sloughed off one shoulder as she dove into the kitchen.

The most fortified room in the house outside her mother’s forge, Amma shoved herself under the familiar kitchen table. Soot on the underside of the once pristine glass surface betrayed heat-strain, bits of buckling where the glass warped from a sustained heat source underneath. Trying not to sniffle audibly, young Amma curled her arms around her knees, the scattered belongings she’d grabbed between her legs and chest.

Green eyes stared at the shattered mug on the kitchen floor.

Rhaegar Dib II Rhaegar Nemesis Dib Ginnie Dib

 

[Ginnie Dib]

Sleep.

Honest sleep took Ginnie after intertwining with her riduur for the first time in sixteen years. The differences in his body made loving him exotic, did he like the same things? Had it been too long to remember how they moved together, even after their initial conflagration? Fresh from the shower before they landed in bed, Ginnie’s drying hair ended up as tightly curled as her natural frizz, her skin covered only by the sheets the Dragon of Dorin pulled up to settle her.

A hand traced the bed, searching for the lover who quietly exited. Yet, Rhaegar’s riduur required healing more than she could fathom or admit. Every minute of sleep erased another hour of alcohol, another tense day, a fight to rise and move again. So deep was her sleep she missed Amma’s yelling, curled up in the bastion of the bedroom she shared again.

Finally shared again.

Any thoughts about handling the reunion between Rhaegar and the twins vanished for the necessary bliss this post-glow sleep gave the wife, a little less young than the bride she’d been.

Ginnie slept on, her mind fluctuating with the comfort of Rhaegar’s return, safe and secure.

Rhaegar Dib II Rhaegar Nemesis Dib

 

[Rhaegar Nemesis Dib]

A scream had him sit straight up in bed. Blinking bleary eyes Rhae Jr turned his head listening. Hearing nothing else he flopped backwards and pulled the blanket over his head.

Rhaegar lay back on the chair in repose. Yet his hand extended from the armrest, palm up, with a snapping of fingers. The furrowed brow deepened with every snap, every audible click another turn of the dial that created the expression of malcontent. Frustration welled within threatening to spill over as each snap seemed to draw him closer to wrath as if an anti hypnotic state.

He tried to move the chair
He tried to induce the chair into combustion
He tried to cause the chair to freeze

But in no way was he able to influence his will upon the inanimate object. His hand fell as he sighed and closed his eyes. Such a basic ability, and one he had mastered over a century earlier, was denied him. And it wasn't the only ability he had found lacking. For a man who had honed his skills and powers through many different orders had the ability and aptitude depart from him. The knowledge of how still existed as well as the fountain of power humming within. But when he reached out to focus the Force it seemingly dissipated from his grasp.

Rhaegar sent up a prayer to the Manda that his experience with his family wouldn't mirror his failures in the Force.

Rising he moved to one of the shelves that lined the den walls. Slowly he eased along, fingers walking along the stained wood, books, and datapads. Then he stopped before a projector and hesitantly activated it. A small globe of light rose, reflecting reverse images around the room. There in the sphere were snippets of the past sixteen years. Ginnie, the twins, Muad, Derek, the Fremen Fireteam, and even strangers. Other children playing with his. Faces of the mando'ade that wore the faces of acquaintances he had known, but time had not ceased for them. The last image was one of Ginnie standing with Rhae and Amma, little smiles upon their faces, as in the background he could see others including Muad and Derek.

His fingers lightly caressed the frozen memory he had missed out on. The projector deactivated leaving the den darker than it had just previously been. For too long he had been segregated from his family. And despite his absence Ginnie had forged ahead raising their children with beskar laced resolve. But she wasn't alone. Throughout the house were small signs of his mad nephew or the balanced nephew. The two men had sacrificed time to watch over them. It was a debt he could never hope to repay.

A screaming exclamation echoed through the house.

Immediately Rhaegar reacted on instinct. He leaped from where he stood to fly through the archway and into the hall. However his powerful body reacted even quicker than his thought could command. He careened into the archway cracking the mortar and splintering the timber. Rebounding off he found his feet and launched down the hall in a single bound. Landing in a crouch his eyes flashed while sweeping the kitchen for the invading danger.

All he saw was a child, no … a young woman, his daughter. Amma.

Slowly he straightened. He moved with slow, deliberate motion so as not to startle or spook Amma. Easing into the kitchen he turned his eyes to the broken mug lying upon the ground. Timidly he approached the mess before squatting, neither touching the shards or looking at his daughter.

“A thing that breaks is thrown away. New change erases the old way. And what once was is not what is.”

He spoke purposefully quiet in order for the youth to strain forward upon his words. Picking up a piece of the mug he turned it in his hands with rapt attention. Slowly he chose a second piece and fit them together. Continuing with methodical patience he began to carefully piece the mug together arduously.

“But in reality nothing is ever truly broken. What we saw as a single cup that was a singular object, something whole, was just a series of matter condensed so tightly that we perceived the separate parts to be united into a cohesive unit. And the shattered mug must be broken because we can see the different parts. Anything can be interpreted differently depending on your point of view.”

Tenaciously he worked tirelessly as he spoke until the last piece was placed into a sliver of a crack. Cupping his hands around the mug he let the heat of the Force center in his palms. Rhaegar leaned his head down and blew across the surface of the mug, heat escaping breath to combine with the radiating power scorching from his hands.

“We will leave your uncle Dede's belongings in his room. His mug will stay in our kitchen. He is a part of this family, a part of you Amma. And though it may appear as if things are changing irrevocably, that nothing will be whole again, it all depends on your point of view. Things may change subtly, on the surface. But everything will be whole.”

His fingers ran across the external surface of the mug. It had become whole once more and yet the light caught the fused lines with a kind of beauty. Slowly he reached up and placed the mug on the counter. Still without allowing his eyes to meet his daughter he spoke while still crouching.

“I know it's difficult to accept. That I am back. The last thing I wish to do is hurt you. Change can be hard. It can be frustrating. You can hate it. But sometimes the very thing you struggle against is the very thing you need. I will not throw your life, or Rhae's, into turmoil. If you wish for me to go, I will. I would do anything for you, your brother, and your mother. I would die for you. I would live for you. And I know I do not deserve a chance, that anything I ask of you is deniable. All I ask is if you would like to have a mug of caf, a drop of sugar and cocoa. Maybe talk about the weather, or what is the best restaurant, or what the perfect time of day is. Just a caf.”

Ginnie Dib Amma Dib Rhaegar Dib II

 

[Amma Dib]

Amma covered a sniffle in her wild mane of black curls. Bare toes slid together, big toes jousting as she watched Rhaegar lower on his haunches.

“N-no change is bad. Change can’t be measured, because you can never quantify how much preparation is needed until after the causal-effect loop is closed. Li.. like…” Rhaegar wasn’t finished, scooping up piece after piece of Uncle Dede’s mug. Amma’s arms released from their stern hold of her own knees, as she scotched over to watch her father’s hands. She rubbed a tear from under her right eye with her palm. Nudged a piece of broken mug toward him with her foot.

“You… have… plaster in your hair.” Amma smooshed her lips together as she hesitantly reached for a chunk. Her hand drew away at the last moment, telekinetically bringing with it the bits of mortar from Rhaegar’s bounding down the hall. It deconstructed into dust, flung to the metal bin in a kitchen with not a single lick of flammable objects within.

“Can’t control it either, eh? Uncle Dede says… if I keep calm and steady I can control anything. Eventually. With massive hard work and pluck. Maybe… things haven’t calmed down enough yet.” Another raucous sniffle echoed out of Rhaegar’s daughter and she rubbed her nose on the sweater’s sleeve in desperation. Pulling the sleeve so far one way revealed cascading burn scars over her shoulder, down her back and arm. With a whimper she tried to hide them, pull the neck back where it belonged.

In its’ proper place.

Everything in Amma’s life had it’s proper place.

“You were supposed to be asleep. With Buir, until seven o’clock, and when you got up, you’d have my eyes and my chin and I’d have the stim-caf ready and the muffins I planned to bake from my cookbook I got for my eighth life day because Buir says they go with everything and I don’t know what you like yet. We’d have an hour to talk just the three of us until Jarek came in for his stim-caf and a high protein breakfast, but no bread, because when he eats grains, the smell is terrible. But… you don’t have my eyes. I don’t have your chin. And you woke up early and Buir isn’t awake to do the awkward ‘here’s yo’ daddy’ thing ‘cause she’s allergic to being cool, and RhaeRhae’s the only constant because it’s impossible to get my brother to wake up before nine am without some form of bantha prod in hand.” Amma’s lips wobbled as she crawled out from under the table, devoid of the little pile of Derek’s things. “I had it all planned. And I wrecked it, ‘cause I couldn’t stay calm and steady.”

She reached for Uncle Dede’s mug, yanking her hand back as sparks of green skittered from her hand into the air like miniature fireworks. Clutching both hands to her chest, Amma whimpered and shut her eyes, sticking her forehead against her father’s upper arm with a soft ‘thunk’.

“You fixed it… How!? Friiiick, if I knew how to fix things I’d never hide under the table again. Ah… I mean thanks. Also shut up you're not leaving. Ever.” One last sniffle and Amma rubbed her eyes, her universe attempting to quantify this new element. Her solar system gained another solar body. Calculations would take time. “You weren’t supposed to see me under the table. You were supposed to see a well put together girl with unruly curls and a pristine sense of timing… but… I can make stim-caf. I like cocoa in mine too! ‘Cause I mean, it’s a chance for chocolate. Who ignores a chance for chocolate!?”

Hopping to her feet, Amma rushed to the sink and washed her hands, drying them with a quiet fan built into the rim of the sink. She struggled with an apprehensive smile, as one last tear echoed down her face.

“But you need to pick a mug. You have three choices, because every other mug is for someone else, except when Ba’vodu Muad is here, because I’m not unsure he’s not a sort of chaos demon and messes everything up just to make me go crazy.” As she spoke, Amma whirled about putting water to kettle, scooping out the additives everyone liked in their stim-caf, and setting three mugs out for her father to choose from. The tin of cocoa was last, mixed in the bottom with some honey into a paste. Six times one way. Five times the other way, went the spoon. The back of the spoon.

“Buir never notices, ‘cause she’s always hungover, so she sits down in her chair and grumbles unintelligibly for the first twenty minutes while she clicks through her correspondences and eats maybe two bites of her breakfast before stumbling off to her forge to start the ceaseless banging that doesn’t end until stim-caf time, once I’m finished three modules of my studies. Then she eats the rest and washes it down with a beer, while she checks my work and tells me to stop working so hard and go outside and play or something, but I know what she really means is I’m proud of you, keep going. I’m trying to catch you up. I don’t always announce everything, but you’ve been a statue my entire life and you have mega catching up to do, so I thought you might like the convenience of someone telling you flat out how things work.” Amma stopped abruptly. Swerved to grab the kettle and pour it into the stim-caf presses dotting the counter. One for each level of stim the people wanted. A bit of hot stim-caf in the cocoa. Stir. Add more stim-caf and milk. Stir. Let settle. Wait for her father to pick his mug, so she could do the same for his.

“Stim-caf?” Wide hopeful eyes stared up at her fathers. Had she done enough to redeem herself in his eyes?

Rhaegar Nemesis Dib Rhaegar Dib II Ginnie Dib

 

[Rhaegar Nemesis Dib]

What could a father do who failed to be there for their child? To merely be akin to a hologram. No substance and forced to remain within the confines of his obsidian tether. So how was a man to make up for over a decade and a half of not being there. In the figurative and literal sense. He was as consistent as a desert mirage. And there was nothing he could do to change the past, but the future was an empty slate.

Hearing his daughter speak about chaos, control, and her uncle Derek caused a dull ache in his chest, the pain of missing important memories and opportunities to share Amma's life. The self deprecation that she punished herself was obvious as she climbed from beneath the table. She carried the weight and responsibility that no youth should have thrust upon them. Again, the guilt pressed at him threatening to bury him in remorse of the life he had lost, and the lives he had broken by his death.

Glancing at the choice of mugs he selected the baby blue option and turned it in his hands while watching the careful routine that Amma used for the stim caf. Rhaegar's eyes flicked to her shoulder then away while adding another stripe of hurt his absence had caused. Scars that marred them all. He held the mug our to the timid question.

“Yes please. Thank you.”

Raising the mug he blew on the steaming caf before taking a sip. A contented sigh escaped as taste buds came alive from the delicious beverage.

“I remember when Derek was a child, no more than five years old. During chaotic times. Learning balance wasn't a random decision. Out of your two uncles, it's Muad who understands chaos best. Chaos is random and unpredictable, yes? Like your little jade sparks of flame. Uncontrollable. An action that cannot be ascertained until chaos has acted.”

He took another sip and nodded agreeably to the flavor.

“Chaos isn't random. It draws inspiration from decisions, choices, and other events that precedes the chaotic event. Take for instance this wonderful stim caf. You made this from experience. Every step was precise and calculated. So in essence the flavor should be exactly the same every time as the conditions that create it appear to be exact. But what if the honey was sweeter then it typically is? What if the Cocoa beans in this particular batch were harvested just a bit too soon? Then there is the temperature of the liquid, too cool and the drink will not achieve the full aromatic flavor.”

Twirling the cup in his hand he glanced away.

“Because of Chaos, Derek became calm, balanced, and steady. Because of Chaos, Muad became the madman who would dance to his own tune. Chaos influences everything, even if we believe we have true control of our destiny. There is no certainty in our life, just odds in favor of a likely outcome. Everything that has occured influences the present, whether we see it or not it makes no difference.”

He turned to his daughter once more. This felt wrong. Not the time spent with Amma or the awkwardness but his point of view. His entire life was spent looking from his eyes, his height, and knew what he could do to the surrounding area because of his connection to the Force. He was a man of slow deliberation, of careful planning. The Baran Do Sages instilled that into Derek as much as they did himself. There were many things learned from the Sages that influenced his journey.

“The Sages where I was trained as a child, the same place your ba'vodu Dede was raised, taught us careful truths. Not to act with wild passion or stoically choose to resist the impulse to act. Rather what set the Baran Do apart was their patience, their ability to control their emotions, to manipulate circumstances around them, and finally to act at the exact moment necessary.”

Rhaegar allowed a smile to tug at his lips.

“Just because events seem to spin out of control doesn't mean that there isn't a pattern in the Chaos. And just because our morning reunion didn't transpire as you had hoped, it doesn't mean that we can't find the perfection in an imperfect moment.”

“And I was awake anyway, you aren't the only one to rise early. This face, this body, it's different than what I was born with, but I am still your father, your buir. And as you noticed, I have yet to master this body. Or my power. Now what was this about muffins?”

Amma Dib

 

[Amma Dib]

Amma looked into a stranger’s face and tried to find something recognizable in form and feature. Uncertainty reigned in them both, a flimsy connection built through statuesque conversation over the years, images and sigils. Knowing him by his absence, Amma saw what Rhaegar Dib meant, what he was, through the shadow upon her mother.

“Gosh it’s weird to think of Uncle Dede as a kid. He’s always been… massive.” Amma tamped down a little smile as her father sipped the stim-caf, filing away the positive result to her memory for later use. “My little jade sparks. Nobody’s ever called them something so… cute before.”

Amma hugged her own mug, hopping up to sit cross-legged on the counter. Still searching her father’s face, she chewed on her bottom lip.

“Yes, but you can shift those variables. Water temperature can be exacted. So can the roast on the beans. And Uncle Muad is a dip.” What they had in common was pain. The physical pain of losing him took a larger toll on Amma’s infant body than any in the family, a mirror to the discomfort she sensed in him now. “I love him, but he makes my life complicated and when I get complicated things explode… which is why we don’t have drapes. Or dish towels. And why all the family’s important things have backups for the backups, ‘cause my ‘little jade sparks’ are half an inferno waiting to happen seven times to Tuesday and I hate it. ‘Cause fire sucks and freaks me out and I don’t want to be a chaos monster. I wanna be a kid… sorry. Guess I… you’re way more easy with information and context than Uncle Dede.”

One leg slid down to swing lazily against the cupboard door, the other ankle propped akimbo over her knee. Amma sipped her stim-caf-cocoa and listened the way she’d been taught. Ears open, eyes forward, mind open.

“Sooooo what you’re saying is you’re gonna wake up and help me make the stim-caf? Among other things, like not… exploding? And… figuring out the whole out of control things maybe partially together?” Amma set down her mug with its’ little unicorn motif and slid off the counter, both hands tangled in the cuffs of Derek’s sweater. Shrugged shoulders kept high, her eyes focusing on the buttons of Rhaegar’s suit.

“Hugs between parents and their offspring are conducive to security, stress-relief and family bonding… I… read it in my sociology book and… Buir said… well she said ‘stop explaining everything before you do it and hug me, you dweeb’, but what she really meant is… was…” Diving forward, Amma shoved her face into Rhaegar’s chest and wrapped her arms around her father. She gasped and clung as hard as her arms could, trying to memorize the feel of his shirt on her cheek.

“I missed you I missed you I missed you I missed you. Don’t you ever be so stupid again or it won’t be ba’vodu Muad and Dede who go into the Nether to pull you out.” Smothering her face in his shirt, Amma let the relief of finally embracing her father wash over her. The jade sparks grew in frequency, shifting behind her into interplaying shapes, animals she’d seen, patterns of lights as rhythmic as her favourite songs, the outline of cities she’d visited which flashed in her subconscious. Amma remained ignorant of such creations, too locked behind her restraint and fear. “I love you Daddy… and the muffins have bacon. You can help if you wanna.”

Rhaegar Nemesis Dib

 

[Rhaegar Nemesis Dib]

Balance and Chaos, two sides of the same coin. Two polar opposite it seemed. And yet his kids, his nearly grown and completed Verd'gotten kids, had both examples in polarity through their uncles, Muad and Derek. However they were missing the fact that Balance and Chaos were the same coin, just on opposite ends of the exact spectrum. The Dib lineage seemed to always lean toward the chaotic. Of course the Verd was the same. But even as Rhaegar listened to his daughter his eyes saw a truth he had failed to take into consideration before.

The twins were less than their genetics, and more than the random possibilities of two progenitors.

Then, with a suddenness that caught him off guard, Amma leapt into him. Arms wrapped around him as she burrowed her head into the suit he wore. It was more than he had expected. He had anticipated a coldness, distance, a fear that he was replacing or changing too much. But there in that moment he realized this, right here, was his reason for holding on for so long, for being willing to be tethered to a statue for years upon years. For the one chance that he could hold his child in his arms. To feel the shudder in his lungs as emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

His arms wrapped around her and he leaned his head down to kiss the top of Amma's head, hair so similar to her mother's. And as he sighed while listening he watched the green sparks dance behind her unawares. The power invoked in creating a body for Gin'ika, the unknown consequences, the concentration in form that became mother to twins … it was only natural that the manipulation of forces beyond their comprehension would manifest in offspring.

He hugged his daughter vowing that he would do everything in his power to give his children and his love, a life they deserved.

“I missed you too Amm’ika. More than you will ever know. And yes, we shall figure things out. Together. Always together. I swear on the Manda.”

His eyes closed, and he almost flinched as a warmth struck his cheek. Opening his eyes, he realized that emotionally he was compromised. Mind flickered over his body's response and found the culprit to be the body he had not quite brought under control. However in the deeper recesses he knew he was lying to himself. It wasn't the body that was different but instead his soul. The ruination and damned aspects of his soul was burned away, what had remained seemed salvageable. Pieces of soul, his along with his nephews, were tangibly growing, tendrils fluctuating across the void inside.

And Amma was burrowing in, laying claim to a portion of his soul. Love growing within for a child he wished fervently to hold for so long, an unattainable dream coming to fruition and sprouting roots that secured his feelings for her. His family, his aliit, his reason for existing.
“And I love you. To the moon and across the heavens. To the ends of the Galaxy and beyond. My love for you is immeasurable. Bacon you say? Have you ever had uj’alayi with bacon crumbled atop? Splendid. Now let's make this a tradition for as long as you want, you and me in the kitchen before everyone else wakes. Quality father daughter time.”

Amma Dib

 

[Amma Dib]

Sniffling into her father’s chest, Amma felt as insecure and powerless as she did when the air got too hot and the safest place was under the kitchen table. Amma felt her soul down to the atom become as revealed and open as her mother’s drunken, sliding cries of grief.

Tear filled eyes peeked up at his chin, lower lip and jaw a wobble. Rhaegar’s presence, as unfamiliar and caustic as his new form was, washed the anxious nerves from Amma’s bones. Down through the floor and away to the earth beneath their feet.

“I got tears on your shirt.” Another loud sniffle stole the seven cool things and two serious intellectual phrases Amma planned. Stuttering a blubbered sob, Amma re-buried her face in his shirt, yesterday’s mascara residue hopelessly smushing against the cotton cloth. Fingers gripped the back of his suit jacket. “I am so not cool, Dad! I wanted you to think I’m cool.”

The jade sparks shifted and blended, colliding and combusting in bursts of flame which spanned across the kitchen in dinner plate sized puffs of smoke. One of the miniature combustions puffed by Amma’s ear. The girl yelped and shut her eyes tight. Chaos erupted behind her in increasing succession, until the sparks were no longer beautiful pictures of Amma’s subconscious, but needles and barbs of her primal fear of flame.

“Calmandsteady calmandsteady calmandsteady calmandsteady… calm and steady, calm girls don’t freak out, steady girls don’t mess up…” Obsessed with order and control, Amma’s mantra nearly calmed her… but for the emptiness it twisted in her ribcage at her father’s words. There was a pattern to Chaos. Rhaegar loved his daughter.

Words it never occurred to Amma that she needed more desperately than air. To feel her father’s love in their hug was to feel her soul sing to the length and breadth of the universe. The family’s missing piece.

Maybe even Uncle Derek would have smiled more, if Rhaegar were there to hold them.

“Is it true when Buir told you she was having us you were happy? Was… was she happy? What does Buir look like when she’s happy? Does she smile?” All the holes in her life rested around this enigmatic form of a man. What brought the family together, what tore asunder, and what made madmen do unspeakable things to set it right? Smudging her palms under her eyes to press the tears away, Amma gave her father a timid smile, which only grew as he spoke of a tradition all their own.

A quantification in the chaos, to systematize their orbits.

“None of my recipe books have uj’alayi with bacon on.” Amma clattered to the other side of the kitchen, yanking open a heavy metal door, which came loose with a ‘ca-chunk’. There, lined with metal and fire-proof silicar, were Amma’s priceless collection of cookbooks. All given by Uncle Dede, or her mother. Digging through the stack to a blue spined baking book, Amma yanked it out and slid it across the counter.

“So it’s gonna be a tradition forever. Consistency is the mother of not fething up. Uncle Dede’ll cook with me sometimes when he’s here. He can get Buir to eat a whole plate full. It must be some sort of doe eyed magic. Page 43. Bacon cheesy muffins. With sage! Sage is good. I grew it in our garden before RhaeRhae crashed his swoop bike into the fence and I blew it up.

Buuuut Ba’vodu Muad got him another one and I’ve never forgiven him for getting RhaeRhae a swoop bike and not even bothering to fix my garden fence… not that it’s a garden anymore… I… ah… poof.” A shrug of her shoulders and Amma chattered about where half the kitchen’s collection of utensils, bowls and appliances were kept. She pulled bowls down, yanked free a cutting board.

“Can you chop the chives and bacon? I’ll get the skillet.” Off she zoomed, a bounce to her step equal to the bob of her curls. Every few seconds, Amma checked back to make sure her father was still there, sidling into his side to give him a side-hugged squeeze.

Ginnie woke softly, shifting her muscles under the sheets, until she sat up and scanned the room. Rhaegar wasn’t there. Never considering the resurrection to be a dream, her bodily soreness was proof enough of its’ validity and reality, Ginnie felt outward until she saw the frenetic mind of her daughter, and confused but diligent mind of her husband.

Bonding. Bonding was happening.

Laying back in the pillows, Ginnie’s arm flopped over her eyes and she grinned. She eased out of bed and into a pair of seldom worn linen trousers and a loose tank. Wrapped a scarf as a headband to let the poof of her tight curls bounce out the back, while keeping the curls out of her face.

So much for that silk press straightening treatment.

Ginnie swept the clothing from the hallway back into the bedroom, stepping silently down the hall until she leaned against the kitchen entryway. Amma and Rhaegar worked well together, the kitchen attesting to the warmth of the bacon. The scent.

“… and then he broke his arm again, but I had my kit in my bag, because I always have my kit in my bag and I stabilized him enough to get to Uncle Dede, and he knew what to do, and it was awesome ‘cause I didn’t have to say I told you so but I totally said I told you so and he only grumbled but didn’t ever stick gum in my hair again… Dad… you have to be precise. It’s baking. Ugh. Gosh. Adults, all… loosey goose.” Amma rolled her eyes at the ‘measuring’ taking place.

Ginnie couldn’t help the gigantic snort and laughter, which doubled as Amma shrieked and dove behind her father.

“Loosey goose. Kad dang it. Gave myself away for loosey goose. And here I was enjoying watching you two cook. She does this all the time, Rhae. Refuses to swear like other kids.”

"BUIR! What... are you... wearing!? That's not forge clothes."

Rhaegar Nemesis Dib

 

[Rhaegar Nemesis Dib]

If being cool was the goal today, Amma was not the only culprit found wanting in that department. Rhae looked down to where his daughter shed tears, stains of makeup streaking from her face to his clothing to ruin any hope of decor the garment offered. The emotion spilling out should have caused the Sith Lord to offer only two responses. Contempt and disappointment. However he realized he hadn't been that man, the Sith Lord, for quite some time. He wasn't even sure if he could call himself a Master of the Force. Such a realization would have caused the old Nemesis to rail against his failings and act to correct the weakness existing within him until he was content that he was ready for anything.

When had he stopped being that man?

Or perhaps the question that carried even more import, when did he stop thinking of himself as Nemesis Nemonus? When had the identity of the Sith Lord become a mask that he could slip on and off? And when had he discarded the persona completely? When had the darkness stopped being who he was, when had it stopped being part of who he was? When had he changed so completely that he wasn't even sure what he was?

Amma chattered and moved with energy boundlessly, going from hugs, to chittering about Derek and Gin'ika to swoop bikes and Muad and RhaeRhae to asking him to chop the chives and bacon and creating displays of chaotic pyrokinesis. It was a swimmingly dizzying amount of directions his mind was being pulled all while trying to deal with his own existential crisis of who he was, what he was, and what the rules this body held for him.

He should have been overwhelmed.

Placing the knife down he wrapped his arms around Amma again, holding her tight for just a moment filled with a silence. A single calm and quiet moment. No words given nor expected, just an inelegant moment of togetherness that lasted only seconds. Then he released her and flicked a dust powdering of flour upon her nose while allowing his lips to curl with mirth before sliding over to begin slicing the bacon and chives.

Still smiling he listened and tried to process not just the words but the meaning of everything Amma said. It was like a mini laser rotary cannon was firing verbiage so fast that he could only grasp a vague general idea of what she was talking about before he realized they were on a new subject. She had said a sprinkling of bacon. When did a 'sprinkling’ of anything correlate to a specific quantifiable amount?

“When did a sprinkling become an exact amount? And listen here Sparky, loosey goose is archaic. Even for me. Loosey goose … what does that even mean anymore?”

He smiled to aid in showiyhe was kidding, but his daughter screeched making him straighten and blink several times. He was pretty sure the tuk'ata somewhere outside had heard the screech in tones only certain animals were capable of. That did beget the question how he heard it, yet he was completely distracted by the arrival of his woman. Setting the knife down next to the cutting board he pulled the dish towel, that had somehow ended up over his shoulder, into his hands to wipe any remnants of food particles away.

“Excuse me a moment Sparky, adults are going to be adults for a moment.”

He stalked forward, his movement completely and utterly predatory in motion as he moved for Ginnie. Hands lanced down to either side of her waist and he raised her, with ease, until her lips was on level with his own. Hungrily he pressed in, taking and claiming that which he had the entire evening, night, and morning. Even as it grew passionate he broke the kiss teasingly as he lowered her from his new height of over six and a half feet tall.

“Hungry ner riduur?”

The double entendre accompanied the gleam of his teeth as he smiled. His eyes had flared, glowing bright with inner light, a luminescent blue even as he slipped back to the counter before Amma could take over the chopping.

Ginnie Dib Amma Dib Rhaegar Dib II

 

[Amma Dib]

Rhaegar hugged his daughter and the world grew quiet. Still. Amma soaked in the action for its' temporary cessation of the chaos she tried to control.

Sinking into the routine of baking breakfast, Amma felt the usual shiver in her fingers recede. It was as good as Uncle Dede’s calm nature holding her in steady repose. While she wondered what her father was thinking about, absorbing the necessary information, no doubt, his face didn’t quite seem to match with the stoic suit-draped dandy she’d been told about. No, something about this Rhaegar Dib felt more… carnal. Like a cub being coddled by its’ progenitor in the den. An instinctual education Amma discovered in retrospect she always needed.

“Daaad, it’s a calculated measurement! With too much bacon it offsets the cheese and then I need to add more egg for binding and… Sparky!?” Amma shrieked at her nickname, in girlish surprise. The audacity! The … the…. gaul of calling her…. Sparky!

“It means you’re taking unnecessary risks with our breakfast. We run a tight ship at Yaim Dib, even something as simple as one person getting a piece of extra bacon could throw off the balance and end up in a catastrophic battle for bacon supremacy. Wars have been waged in this house for less! So… I count every… single… piece.” Amma separated pieces of bacon, but for the spectral sight of her mother in… in….

Dear Kad what was she wearing?

“Excuse you fo-oh… oh. OH! OH MY!!” Rhaegar stalked Ginnie, a glee filled the space in a way Amma never saw, the air filled with her mother’s rare chuckling. Amma thrust her hands over her eyes and swerved back around, becoming even more interested in the absolutely vital task of counting pieces of bacon for breakfast muffins.

Rhaegar’s refined gentlemanly facade didn’t seem to survive the resurrection. His wife’s heart thrilled as he stalked to her, the instinct in her bones telling her to step forward, shoulders back, chin proud.

“C’mere, you beast.” Another tuk’ata ready for the inevitable jousting. Ginnie grapevined her leg around his, to aide in bringing her diminutive form up to his. She clung with the strength of the Force, refusing all outside stimulation as she kissed her husband. Finally… finally. Fingers tugged into longer hair than she remembered, until he broke away and she staggered back against the wall with a thin hiss and wave of her hand to cool stiflingly blushed cheeks.

“Ravishingly. Iiiii like you this tall.” Ginnie stroked the backs of her fingers on Rhaegar’s scruff, her heartbeat chasing the halted breaths from their kiss. Gasping out a laugh, Ginnie watched her riduur’s eyes, stroking her index finger along his nose. Off he went, cooking with their daughter.

And Ginnie’s laughter, a mixture of relief and joy peppered the space. Thoughts that she should have been awake for the meeting between Amma and Rhaegar vanished to the serendipity of trusting the Dib’s own personal brand of corrective Chaos. No, Amma had to meet Rhaegar on her own terms, probably in deep thought with a tangled mass of plans which came to limited fruition.

“W-woa… what… what’s Buir doing? Dad? Seriously, what’s Buir doing?” Amma’s eyes went circular as she watched her mother laugh. Sauntering into the kitchen, Ginnie poured her stim-caf, stirring the powders Amma always put in there, thinking Ginnie wouldn’t notice.

“I’m laughing, ah, ’Sparky’. Love the nickname jitterbug.” She sipped her caf and walked over, draping her hand on Rhaegar’s lower back and tickling right at the crest of his spine. That spot she’d discovered the night, or was it morning, they had. Ginnie sipped from her mug and nuzzled her nose in her daughter’s cheek. “Had a grrrrreat sleep…”

“Ew, too much, Buir… Too. Much.” Amma shrank back, the block of cheese in her hand half grated. Ginnie chuckled, took another sip and set the mug down on the table. There, beneath the glass were Uncle Dede’s things. A dull ache stabbed at Ginnie’s chest.

Derek… she had to talk to Rhaegar about Derek. But right now, the reunion between father and daughter was more important, or if equal of import closer in proximity. Close enough to handle.

“Ooo, bacy-cheesa-muffins. You’re getting the Amma Culinary red carpet, love. Last time Amma and Dede made these, Muad and RhaeRhae went at it, Jarek got involved and I rebuilt the south wall of the yaim.”

“…. buir? You… what… but the forge.” Amma tried to grate a couple more passes before the cheese clunked down onto the cutting board. Grinning up at her daughter (just a mite taller than her, so what?), Ginnie ran her fingers through Amma’s hair and tied it back with a tie from her wrist.

“Jitterbug, I won’t be in the Forge today. I know you don’t like change, and it brings out the terrors in you, but today is a day to slow down, relax and enjoy each other, okay? A family day. And no, I’m not drunk. I’m happy. Verrrry…. verrrrrrry happy….” Ginnie’s eyes twitched over to her husband’s body, the broad shoulders, filled muscles… the… backside. She made a guttural growling noise, and Amma screwed her face.

“EUGH! AW GROSS! AAUUUGH, BUIIIIIR! There’s… there’s food in here, aw gawsh Moooom! Daaaaad, staaaahp!” Amma looked between her parents with her head on a swivel, seeing the glances between them, hearing the little growls.

Nothing in the universe could be more perfect.

Rhaegar Dib II Rhaegar Nemesis Dib

 

[Rhaegar Nemesis Dib]

Standing upon the dais, the obsidian figure of life like proportions and expressions watching, Rhaegar watched the dust swirl in the arena. The sands of the coliseum were eerily silent. No visitors climbed the steps to where he floated on the raised memorial and so the ethereal form of Rhaegar quietly whittled away at internal issues, fine tuned new spells, wrote several theses on various events in his life. An emotional sigh flickered from his lips as he studied the patterns of the sands attempting to see the design of nature's chaos and spontaneity.

There, within the confines of his ghostly tether, Rhaegar had to face Nemesis. Who he was. Yet even as he did the man knew he was no longer the Dark Nemesis, nor the Rhaegar Dib who so methodically planned every aspect of life while making innumerable plans for instances that altered the potential desired outcome. He was cold and calculating. He was the Dragon of Dorin. He was a Force that could not be stopped. He was a being above the mere mortal. And even with the spiritual joining with Ginnie that cracked the visage he had worn for so long, he was still Rhaegar Nemesis Dib.

Almost starting when Gin'ika placed her hand upon the small of his back, Rhaegar returned to the present while still hearing the musings of yonder year trickling an internal replay of his memories on the dais. The man he had been was an efficient creature that utilized anything and everything to further his plans. No moral line would slow his advancement, no threat of innocents lost would alter his course, no consideration of others would stall his commitment to his own cause. The being he once was would have looked upon who he was now and classify him as not important. And so, while being included in the hug between wife and daughter, he came to three realizations.

Nemesis Nemonus, the reality of his identity, was dead and gone.
Rhaegar Nemesis Dib, the newly minted man that consisted of remnants of the good man (in a life so distant that it seemed like a dream) and the vile creation of Darkness known as the mask of Nemesis, had passed away.
The person he now had become was as strange to himself as he was to others.

“If you cannot recognize the man in the mirror …”

The whispered words reminded him of a lesson he had learned many years ago. When you no longer recognize who you are, it's time to figure out when you stopped being you. Then to figure out why you changed. Then, finally, deciding who you want to become.

Standing there in the kitchen he finally faced a hard truth. Rhaegar Nemesis Dib did not want to be a father and didn't desire to live the life of a family man. Recipes that Amma poured over were a waste of time. Instead new and creative spells should have been concocted. No, this was not the life Rhaegar Nemesis Dib would choose or accept.

Standing there in a makeup stained suit, a spattering of food particles from the counter decorating the front of his shirt, he acknowledged his reality.

This was what he wanted.

His riduur, his children.
His home, his family.

His arm snaked around his Gin'ika with fingers splayed along her side. Her little growl brought goosebumps to his skin and a shiver of remembrance down his spine. Gone was the ever patient and methodical aspect of his demeanor. For once he thought he was nigh immortal and now he knew just how fragile life was. And even as he learned what his new body could do he would be learning who he had evolved into. Leaning down, a curtain made of his dark hair falling forward, he captured a kiss from his riduur once more.

From behind them stumbled Rhae, his eyes nearly closed as he circumvented obstacles between him and the table. Hooking a leg of the chair he slid it out and sat, eyes still nearly closed.

“Food dear sis. Food.”

Amma Dib Ginnie Dib

 

[Ginnie Dib]

Sensations came as cautious flickers. Impressions in shadow and glistening baubles of light. The gift of psychometry became a veil of whispers to the woman who stood now in her renewed glory and fresh shell. On each visit to the Dais, Ginnie touched the skin of her palm to obsidian. Soaked in the experience of her soulmate.

His constant musings, the time between visits. Ages of quiet agony while his family’s life swirled round in quiet, never ending clock strokes forward. The immobility of Rhaegar’s repose was enough to send his wife to drink.

Not that she required alternative reason.

Yet, the whispers reminded her of the statue’s worth. Time to spend with the children, with Ginnie in conversation. Tethered as he was, Rhaegar wasn’t gone as most were when death stole them. His spirit was reminder enough to never let go.

And she hadn’t.

She became a shadow of his Gin’ika, the girl he resurrected to use against the slim family which abandoned her as all family abandoned its’ worthless and degraded failures.

All but the Dib’s. Within House Dib Ginnie found an aliit unshaken by such failures as death and resurrection. She saw and knew nothing but love, both compassionate and tough. Although she carried her bootstraps in a bottle, Ginnie rose and plodded on, until yesterday.

Until the shaken morn brightened up their bedroom with the sun’s balmy light.

“Hmm? Rhae?” Ginnie was alive again, and she felt the life which was missing from her morose self-inflicted agonies return as the dawn. She looked into her husband’s new eyes, a sliver of his inner struggles filtering into her familiar, but renewed mind. Fingers stroked his scruffed cheek.

His lips brought with them a wealth of relief and finality.

Rhaegar was home.

The drowning of her sorrows in the Forge were not required. As they kissed, Ginnie refused to bother herself about Amma’s yelp of embarrassed glee. Girl’d have to get used to this, as Ginnie promised in the silent ether that she would fill their house forever with this love. Fingers which had been on his cheek drifted into his hair. Ginnie tugged lightly, prolonging the kiss and holding her husband’s head to hers.

Amma, on the other hand, squeamishly vacated the immediate area around her parents and put muffins in the oven. Tidying up, she set the bowls and baking implements to soak, or set them in the sanitizer for cleaning. Bacon went in the fridge, beside air tight glass containers of leftovers, ingredients, cheese.

“For the love of everything, are you… still… wow.” Amma sipped her stim-caf-cocoa as RhaeRhae bludgeoned the chair into submission and clashed upon it. Leave it to a teenaged boy to forego seeing anything when he was hungry.

Even the gigantic monumental parental affection moment happening right in front of the table.

“Seri-ser…” Amma’s brow furrowed. Her lips pouted in a disbelieving sneer. “Seriously, RhaeRhae?”

A groan almost as monumental as their parents kissing in their kitchen burst from Amma’s throat as she stomped to the refridge, yanked the handle and grabbed RhaeRhae a can of drink. She hucked it at him, with as loud of a throat clearing as she could manage.

“ACHEM! RHAE. RHAE. RHAEICUS DIB.” Amma swung her arms at the image of their parents in mid-snog, “MEET Rhaegar the First and Tallest, our DAD. DAD! For the love of…. aw gosh how… are you two even breathing? How does anyone kiss for like, that long? Is the Force involved? I… RhaeRhae, meet Dad. Dad? Meet… you…. wow you’re really not….”

Eyes wide at the display, Amma stiffened and sidled to sit beside her brother at the kitchen table, smacking her lips and holding her stim-caf in both hands.

“Muffins’ll be ready in a minute… sleep good?” Any minute now… aaaaaaaany minute now RhaeRhae was bound to notice…

… maybe after breakfast.

Rhaegar Dib II Rhaegar Nemesis Dib

 

[Rhaegar Dib II]

Why did Amma always have to talk? I mean didn't she see my head on the table? On the empty table I might add. Where is the food? Where is the foooooooood? Something something something mom. Something something something Rhae. Thank the manda she knows my name, but did she remember to make the FOOOOOOOOOD? Why I she always so loud? Where is my drink?

His hand lanced up and caught the can tossed at his head which still remained plastered to the tabletop, eyes steadfast and stubbornly closed. Silently he wondered if he just pretended to be unconscious, maybe dead, would Amma stop talking and bring the food. Bacon. He smelled bacon. The heavenly scent of wondrous bacon. Why wasn't bacon being talked about? Why did Amma have to speak at a decimal level that made poor Wembley howl in pain? And where was the bacon? The table shook as his twin finally took a seat. But no bacon. Then suddenly he realized what she had said.

"Wait, you said something important sis … where are the muffins?"

His fingers popped the tab on the can and he held it over his head while turning his face sideways upon the surface of the table, still refusing to rise. Pouring it he lightly used the Force to guide it to his mouth. Drinking several gulps he sighed then belched. The sugar and carbonation began awakening synapses in his brain as he drank even more, brain slowly working over the last several minutes as he drained the can.

With his riduur's hand in his hair, upon his face, Rhaegar nearly forgot where he was standing in the kitchen. And the audience. With a deep-seated regret he knew his Gin'ika sensed he broke the impassioned embrace before it got much more embarrassing for the kids. Kids he still needed to get to know more than being an oversized paperweight on an obsidian dais within an ancient coliseum on Manda'yaim. While he was willing to grant the twins a reprieve of their parents attraction to one another, he refused to release Ginnie, arms pulling her to his side as he looked at Amma and Rhae.

"So, this is my new body. Rhae, I am your father."

"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

Rhae finally had sat up, his hand outstretched as anguish and betrayal etched every feature of his face. Literal pain could almost be sensed from his form as he blinked a few moments and cleared his throat.

"Uh, yeah, cool. But sis, the muffins are burning! Save them! And bring the bacon!"

Amma Dib Ginnie Dib

 

[Amma Dib]

RhaeRhae was unreal. Could he leave off his teenaged boy-ness for a minute and look around? Their mother was kissing a stranger in the kitchen! Not only a stranger but their Dad! Their alive and not statue-man father! Sacrilegious as it sounded, breakfast could wait.

“The Muffins!? How is bacon more important than our father being resurrected from the dead and snogging Buir in our kitchen!? Wait… THE MUFFINS!” Amma shouted in the kitchen, rushing to the oven and throwing open the door. A waft of heat struck her face. There, in the oven, the muffins were… were…. browning on top!

“Noooooooooooooooooooo!” She thrust her hand in to grab the muffin tin. “Ow! Hot! Hot hot hot…”

Amma jumped and spun around, green sparks flying through the air in every conceivable direction. A congregation of sparks veered for RhaeRhae’s hair, his shoulder even as the drink poured into his throat.

“Oh Kad, oh Kad, oh Kad… the bacon…” Blowing on her fingers, Amma yanked open the ‘glove drawer’, pulled a set of silicone gloves on and saved the tray from the clutches of the ever hot oven. “… mooove move move move…”

Hip-checking her father, Amma tried to shove past him and her mother, to put the tray on the glass table. Meanwhile, the frenetic green sparks continued flicking across the room, threatening to ignite clothing, hair, anything flammable. Amma whimpered as she pulled muffins from the tray into a metal wire basket, one steaming muffin at a time.

“Yeah, you’re cute and RhaeRhae’s annoying and Buir looks… wow… really really happy and…. Daaaad. The bacon muffins! We didn’t watch them enough and…” Stomping her feet on the ground, Amma balked at her brother. “WHAT!? Our Daddy comes back from death and it’s uh, yeah, cool!? How can you…”

Amma clenched her fists.

“You…” She grunted and shut her eyes, as the sparks congealed into a massive wave of flame roiling chaotic through the kitchen. “How can muffins be more important than our…”

The room became a green inferno, muffins hopelessly in need of protection from Amma’s outburst. “Family!!”

Ginnie reached out her hand and let a shield of protection linger around the muffins. That was all they needed. “RhaeRhae! Rhae! Down!”

Rhaegar Dib II Rhaegar Nemesis Dib

 

[Rhaegar Nemesis Dib]

"It's probably hot sis. I mean it did come out of an oven you know. And they call you the smart one …"

Shaking his head at Amma he leaned back and chuckled at the comical chaos that always seemed to come from his sister. When you try to be miss goody-two-shoes you inevitably get a pie in the face. And it was oh so gratifying when osik hit the roof because of her careful moves. Oh he was enjoying the chaos she was experiencing so vividly.

Then the runaway train of jade flame flew for his face causing Rhae to balk, sputter the drink in a coughing gasp, and fall sideways avoiding the very Force manifestation he had been musing about moments before. The can went skittering across the glass tabletop already soot stained from his sister's mood swings from earlier. Kicking backwards his back hit the wall as he put even more distance between the crazy, most likely hormonal, and out of control Dib pyro maniac.

Rhaegar extended his hand, a simple thing to control the wildfire with the power of his will. To subdue another who was floundering in the Force was an action he had done too many times to count. It should have been achievable without even a conscious thought. Yet even as his fingers extended he knew in his newborn soul that it was something denied him forever more.

Frustratingly impotent to an ability that was as easy and automatic as breathing, Rhaegar watched with a benign helplessness as his son retreated from the table, his daughter lose more control as emotions swelled, and his riduur managed to protect the epicenter of the scene that was unfolding, the muffins.

The swirling sparks flowed into a stream of flame as with every moment the fire writhed with a faster tempo. A beat flickered around them, the pulse of the storm as it grew, feeding upon the emotional offerings of the four Dib. And while he may not have been able to manipulate or suppress the outpouring of the Force, he well understood the source.

The emotional state of his daughter.

Stepping forward he felt streams of fire lick upon his jacket and shirt with tongues of flame that burned and consumed but was unable to harm the flesh of the man beneath. Instead where the flames brushed his flesh the colors shifted to a sky blue flame. His arms swept around Amma and he pulled her to his chest in an embrace.

"Listen to my heart. Feel me breathe. In. And out. In. And out. Feel the pattern. Feel the cadence slowing your pulse. Understand that the fire isn't a reaction to you losing control. It's waking because of your control. As your emotions swell, so does your power. It's because of your strength that it seems unstoppable. Now feel our breaths. Slow and steady. Now feel our pulse. Slow and steady. Now feel the Force and your fire. Slow and steady. Control is always there. You just need to understand that emotions doesn't mean lack of control. It means you are even more in control in a primal way."

Rhaegar held his daughter trying to impart a truth. She was strong. And it was because of her power that the Force bent to her will. She just needed to learn how to actively control her primal power and emotions.

Meanwhile Rhae Rhae kicked up from the floor angrily. If it wasn't one thing it was another. And he was getting tired of everyone, including his twin, treating him like a child. He was a man! A karking man! Staring at his family he pointed an accusatory finger at his sis.

"Soooo sorry I wasn't ready to handle one of your mood swings first thing waking up. And wow, I didn't notice mom up this early, it's not my fault her being up and moving is not part of the normal routine. I didn't smell the booze that heralded her entrance. So I'm sooooooooooooo sorry. And oh, yeah, mom is kissing someone. I just figured ba'vodu Derek and her finally jumped each others' bones. So yeah, I wasn't paying attention."

Everything just rushed out in a tirade of anger and frustration. He felt it immediately, the guilt and shame. Mouth opened, words of apology trying to escape a mute mouth, however nothing fell from silent lips. Then his mouth snapped shut and defiance blossomed across his face before storming out the kitchen for the yard.

Amma Dib Ginnie Dib

 

[Amma Dib]

The moment Rhaegar faltered, Ginnie walked through the kitchen with her hand raised, soaking the conflagration into her arm. Her daughter’s energy swelling into her own aura for future use. RhaeRhae at first appeared to enjoy the mayhem, until like all Dib things, it became too real.

Uncontrolled maelstroms of fire burned through the kitchen, sparking and igniting from Rhaegar’s daughter. Amma shrieked at the heat and the flame, sinking into her father’s chest. Blue flame met green, Amma’s distress spiralling into yet another reason why the Dib Yaim couldn’t have curtains, or dish cloths that lasted a week.

The hyperventilating girl burrowed her face in Rhaegar’s chest, gasping for air rapidly being eaten away by the smoke and flames she created. She shrieked and the flames buffeted the walls, her shame at her own imperfections cascading in equal parts with the virulence of her frustrations at losing control at all.

Rhaegar’s every syllable filtered through the panic in Amma’s mind, reminding her of the calm and steady hand of her beloved Uncle Derek. Gasping for air, Amma hugged into Rhaegar’s chest and tried first of all to feel his heartbeat. A living sound, from a living soul reaching out past the corrosive split of Eshan to this new chance at familial wholeness.

As the flames began to recede to sparks flitting about, Amma shook her head back and forth, the shame coming faster now, stronger.

She’d pushed RhaeRhae away again. As usual. If ever there was a moment to show control, that fled with the emotive flames. How could a Dib be afraid of fire? Once her breathing matched close enough to her father’s to dissipate most of the flames, Amma dove back to sit under the table and hugged her knees to her chest. Sparks battered the table from below, fizzing out without combusting. She stuttered out a cry as she rubbed her cheek with a palm.

“I can’t even feed us breakfast right today… what’s primal got to do with it, Dad? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to blow up the kitchen. RhaeRhae’s right. I suuuuck at emotion like… hardcore. I’m sorry I wrecked breakfast, Dad… but Mom saved the bacon muffins? I think?” Amma sniffled and kept her eyes shut. Her chin wobbled as she tried to remember what Uncle Dede and now her father taught her. “RhaeRhae’s also right it’s hard to see Buir not hungover. It’s… weird.”

“RhaeRhae…” Sucking on her bottom lip, Ginnie trailed after RhaeRhae. Upon seeing where he ended up, she shot past him in a flash of supernatural speed, hair bobbing in the wind as she settled to stand in front and a bit to the side.

“… was I the last person to know Derek was in love?” She put her hand to her brow. Pushed up past the scarf to the hair she and her children shared. “Rhae’s death stole things from all of us… burned… like the damage done to your sister. By me. Yeah, I get it, be mad. I didn’t handle things the best, I wasn’t even twenty and handled it like a kid. ‘Cause I was a kid. And yeah, Amma might not’ve freaked out so much if I hadn’t. You were in the fire, too, RhaeRhae. My grief-fit. I’d… you didn’t get burned because you were in my arms and she wasn’t. That guilt is… yeah, you’re mad. I get it. You’re also an adult. I get that, too. But none of us have had their breakfast and Rhaegar isn’t Uncle Derek.

Derek’s gone. He… Derek’s not coming back. But! We won’t be dealing with that until after breakfast. I… saved the muffins. Come on. In the house, or we grab the picnic blanket and have breakfast outside. But nothing in this family is getting fixed until bacon is consumed. Lovely, crispy bacon.” She reached for RhaeRhae’s hand, and hoped to hell she hadn’t broken them all completely.

Rhaegar Dib II Rhaegar Nemesis Dib

 

[Rhaegar Nemesis Dib]

Gin'ika walked through the kitchen doing what he couldn't. Not anymore. The fires were tamed and controlled before being absorbed by his riduur in a subtle display of power that was performed nonchalantly. Yet a quicken of his pulse brought the reality, his new reality, glaringly into focus. That which was a negligible manipulation of the Force was beyond him. Ginnie hurried to intercept Rhae Rhae before he got too far, the burst of speed making Rhaegar question if that too would be beyond him now.

His daughter had slipped from his arms, returning to that which felt safe. A nest under a glass table surrounded by her uncle's things. A knife of pain lanced into his center, a loss he felt every day while tethered to the statue now reawakened with reality that was perhaps more disturbingly understandable then the flickering fears of a dead man.

Not only had he been replaced in his children's lives, but he was now a contender for his wife's heart?

While he seemed to be unable to influence the Force externally the power flowed through this body amplifying the already impressive natural abilities of the unnatural body. His head turned slightly, his ear twitching, as he heard Ginnie's words as clearly as if her lips were brushing his face.

“… was I the last person to know Derek was in love?”

The words of his beloved twisted the blade of self doubt and fearful self-recrimination deeper still.

Kneeling down to peek from the side of the table he lightly traced a random design into the soot stained floorboards as he shifted down from his haunches to take a seat. He wasn't going anywhere. He was their father and nothing was going to change that.

And then he heard Gin'ika once more.

"But none of us have had their breakfast and Rhaegar isn’t Uncle Derek.

Derek’s gone. He… Derek’s not coming back. But! We won’t be dealing with that until after breakfast."

Generations of learning to control every flicker of emotion, every mote or hint of detail his face could offer, every miniscule contraction of muscle carefully controlled through decades of experience until perfected into an external mask lent itself in keeping his face neutral. Derek was called "uncle" while he was relegated to merely "Rhaegar". Not dad, not father. Not even the abase use of sperm donor … just an impersonal 'Rhaegar'. Meanwhile their beloved uncle Derek was gone, responsibility for his disappearance most likely to fall upon the impersonal "Rhaegar".

His eyes closed for a moment. He knew this would be difficult. He knew it would be a process. He knew he would have to earn his place back. And he would. Eyes opened with new determination to see his daughter still cowed beneath the glass table, taking comfort in the belongings of her uncle Dede. He sighed, the only external expression of the situation he allowed to escape into mannerisms of the moment.

"You know, everyone assumes that Muad is the standard of our family. That we are all mad men, or women, waiting to implode and wreck havok upon the Galaxy. The assumption is we are all as random and impulsively ruled by our emotions and whims. The truth is Muad is the anomaly. Our family has long been contemplative, controlled, patient, and meticulous. That is the truth of our lineage. And even Muad I capable of the same control as myself … or his brother Derek. The difference is he chooses to do with his instincts and impulses rather than using control."

The design continued upon the floor as he glanced at Amma.

"You think that you are so different? You think your fear is only yours? Fear is natural, but what we do with it determines who we are and what we are capable of. And failure doesn't mean we have failed. Failure is a teacher that instructs us that we are doing things wrong. We learn from our failings and then rise. Trust me Amma, you have family willing to walk with you through every failure. And every success."

His eyes flashed away to where he knew Ginnie and Rhae Rhae stood in their conversation. His words slipped quietly from grim, distant visage.

"I believe whether I returned home, or not, your mother would have found a reason to smile again. And to walk away from the bottle."

Rhae Rhae folded his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. He wasn't sure if he was in trouble or had helped by pointing out the pink rancor in the room that no one was talking about.

"I think so mum. You were pretty block headed. And you think I don't feel guilty? I mean it should have been me that got burned and Amma was safe. And you think Uncle Derek is just going to stay away when, wait, you saved the bacon and the muffins? Hells yeah let's eat, what are we waiting for!?"

Family concerns versus a hungry teenaged stomach. Who would win was a no brainier.

Ginnie Dib Amma Dib

 

[Amma Dib]

Hiccupping a sniffle, Amma rubbed her face on Uncle Dede’s sweater. It smelled like his cologne, and the pomade he wore in his hair. Every strand perfect. Rhaegar wasn’t perfect. He was as caustic as the flames around them, controlled and coddled by the mother who was now outside putting out another fire.

“Are you on some form of post-resurrection space crack? You think if you didn’t come back Buir would magically be okay? That she’d notice how Uncle Dede looked at her and… what. Be happy? She never stopped missing you. You were this.. void in the room. An inescapable absence we all felt and dealt with in our way. Buir was so blind to everything outside her grief she… never looked round to see what she had. During our Verd’goten Buir beat Uncle Dede to a pulp. He was hurting so bad I could feel it in the forest, and… he let her. He pushed her away too. Buir… your memory never left. Buir never let go.” Yet, as Amma glanced sideways at his perfected expression, she tried not to burst once more into hot tears. She slid the tiny distance between them and set her back against her father’s back, remembering to breathe. “We are all mad. We Dibs are crazy and stupid and headstrong and… calm. I am scared, Buir. I’m always scared, ‘cause when I’m not, the galaxy is a toy I get to play with and bad things happen. I wish I was more like RhaeRhae. He can go swoop-bike riding with ba’vodu Muad and nothing crazy happens… okay so everything crazy happens, but it works out alright for them. Sometimes… ish.”

Laying her head back on her father’s back, Amma hissed out a hot sigh, which filled the air with steam.

“Every time I light something on fire, all I see is Buir screaming, when… when you died and… she didn’t grab me. She grabbed RhaeRhae. Yasha grabbed me. Gave me to Tamar, who got me on their ship and… Buir would have let them keep me, if it wasn’t for ba’vodu Muad. And I knew every day that if you were here? I wouldn’t have to hurt. And now you’re here, and you’re the one hurting and I don’t know how to help other than making muffins and hoping that maybe if I work hard and stay calm I can make you proud. Just… don’t…. don’t doubt Buir. She never stopped and trust me, it got reeeally annoying when RhaeRhae and I were like, ‘dude. Do you not see Uncle Dede? He’s right here’, but it didn’t matter. She was eternally stubborn. And now… seeing you? Seeing how you hug her?”

Amma sniffled and rubbed her eyes again, shifting around to nestle between his side and his arm. She clung to his arm, tugging it around her as her back held firm to his side.

“I can see why she waited for you.” Amma tried to smile for her father, despite the puffiness of her cry-stricken eyes and the shake to her limbs. “Thanks for calming me down, Daddy.”

Snuggling into his arm, Amma shook and clung. “I am so freaking cold and miserable… and you have like, literally every answer ever and it’s awesome and I’m mad you died and and… I want bacon muffins. And I hope you’re right about Buir… and this isn’t a betrayal of Uncle Derek, ‘cause I love him more than anything in the Galaxy, but… love isn’t limited. I get to love him and you and Buir and RhaeRhae and anybody I want, so there.”

Chin wobbling, Amma tried one more time to put a smile on her puffy face. “Right, Buir?”

Rhaegar Nemesis Dib

 

[Rhaegar Nemesis Dib]

"Post resurrection space crack …"

His daughter berated him with calm and cool intellect, stripping away his misconceptions and false beliefs to reveal the base of his musings. His own fear. His back warmed with the heat of his daughter's back as he clenched his jaw, receiving a schooling on self conflagration. Even a man who lived over a century could feel the effects of uncertainty and misbegotten inadequacy. He barked out a guttural laugh, an escaping sound of hoarse amusement that shattered his reprieve of self reproach and drew him back to the present.

“We are all mad. We Dibs are crazy and stupid and headstrong and… calm.

The plate glass table above them fogged from the hissing steam. His head turned slightly to glance over his shoulder to where Amma leaned against him. He had missed so much. And now his children, the ones he had only ever felt kicking against his hand in quiet moments lying in bed with his riduur, now they were nigh full grown. Considered adults according to the rites and passages of the mando'ade. He had missed too much. But even though he had lost time of growing he still well knew and understood the difficulties of growing up as a Dib. The fluctuating power and the expectation that came with the name.

"The Jedi says fear open one to the darkside. The Sith believe fear is a weakness. The truth is, fear is a tool. It tells you that you should be afraid. It warms you. Teaches you where certain lines are. Through fear you learn what you love. While giving in to fear can, indeed, destroy you. Having fear is not necessarily a bad thing. And ish. There is always a cause and effect, whether we see it or not. Muad and Rhae Rhae don't get off free. There is always a price."

Her words brought pin pricks to his spine if not his eyes, though he would never admit to that. She slipped around and to his side, his arm tightening reflexively through what surely had to be genetic memory. A parental urge he had never known yet displayed with the desire to comfort and protect his child in his embrace. A slight tick of his lips, a ghost of a smile easing upon his face despite the seriousness of their conversation.

"Then you don't know your mother as well as you think. She may have faltered for a moment or two, but she is willing to give everything for her family. She did it once for a brother that had turned away from her and used the familial bond to manipulate her. And she died for him. What do you think she would do for her children? For her daughter? You may think you are nothing like me, and I may agree to a certain degree. You are your mother reborn. The raw power, the desire for approval, the tenacious strength which you shoulder responsibility even if it's not yours, even the whispers of fear within you that stifle your individuality while pushing you further to prove yourself worthy to everyone. Even though you are already accepted as a wonderful being and loved for who you are, faults and all. And we all have our faults."

Then she did the thing that was unforgivable. Like slipping a blade between plate armor, through ribs, and into the heart that pumped despite the blade piercing it, the act of convulsing causing more damage to the muscle, shredding the tissue and causing arterial flow from the wound until the powerful muscle surrendered to the damage done in a final quivering tremble before lying still forevermore.

This was how Rhaegar Nemesis Dib died, a single word heralding his demise.

A single tear slipped through his control, the drop tracing across his cheek to become lost in the facial hair of his new form. Rhaegar opened his eyes to the realization that who he was had changed in such a way he could no longer be what he once was. He already wasn't. The single defining word had altered his entire existence in a way that no other descriptive title had before. The role of father.

He kissed her forehead.

"I'm mad too. I wish I hadn't died because I missed so much. But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. Ever again. And you are right baby girl, you can love everyone. Unconditionally and completely."

His eyes flickered away from Amma and beheld the destruction of the kitchen. Slowly he panned around to get a full view of the extent of the damage. Then his reaction even surprised him. He laughed. Not just a chuckle but a deep bellow of a laugh that shook loose the remaining vestiges of Nemesis within, tossing the final pieces of the Sith Lord away. Calming he wiped a year of mirth from the corner of his eye as he slipped from beneath the table and held a hand down to assist Amma.

"We should make this part of the tradition of family breakfast. Get things out in the open, destroy a room, then remodel into something better. Always changing for the better. What do you say Sparky, eat some muffins then maybe think about remodel ideas?"

Amma Dib