Private A New Light from Fire

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

Corazona von Ascania
The shuttle bucked once as it broke through the cloud layer, the hull trembling like it shared his unease. Makko kept one hand wrapped around the safety rail and the other pressed flat against the datapad that carried her name.

The words on the medical report were clinical, detached and oddly unspecific. What unsettled him was the messages from Cora calling him urgently to her side.

There was a sharp, electric fear in his chest that refused to fade.

Within a few minutes he was at the medical centre. Inside, the air was heavy with disinfectant and low murmurs. Droids glided between the beds, their mechanical hands steady and calm.

He managed to go past rows of wounded soldiers but was stopped at a receptions desk.

"Name?" the receptionist called sharply.

Makko drew to a halt, slightly surprised by the tone.

"Makko."

"Makko who? Who are you here to see?"

"Makko Vyres, Corazona, my wife is here."

That was met by a frown and tapping on a keypad.

"I don't see you listed as a spouse. This is a high security facility."

Unsure of what to do in the face of a power tripping receptionist, Makko stretched out with the Force. He found Cora.

I'm here. They won't let me in to see you.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

In sharp contrast to how he'd found her after Arkania, Corazona was relatively unscathed. A few bruises and some aching limbs paled in comparison to being found half-frozen to death on a wintry mountainside.

So when she appeared at the reception desk - clad in the sterile white garments they dressed all patients in - Cora hoped it would soothe the threads of anxiety she felt from him, pulled taut in their bond. One hand remained on a metal poll that rolled with her, bearing an IV drip inserted into her left hand.

Her smile, while genuinely warm with relief at the sight of her husband, held an edge of nerves.

"I apologize for the trouble," she addressed the receptionist with a dip of her head. "I don't think that all of my contact information loaded in properly, but he is with me."

Cora reached for Makko's hand, eager for both his soothing touch and to ground him in the knowledge that she was alive and well. He'd recently spent a few harrowing weeks at her bedside, uncertain if she'd ever wake up again.

"We need to talk," she said, voice lowering to a murmur that carried only between them as she tugged him along.

Cora was oddly quiet as she lead him along a row of veiled beds.

"I'm alright," she added quickly. "Did you…read the report I sent you?"

Cora pulled back one of the sterile white curtains and ushered him inside, climbing back into the bed. He might notice that the room was devoid of all but one medical device, and not even a chair for him to sit in.

"These are just fluids," she motioned to the bag of clear liquid hung on the IV pole. "For dehydration."

Cora slipped her hand beneath the sheets and produced a narrow rectangular card. Several grainy images, black and white, cascaded down the length of the film.

She handed it to Makko wordlessly. There was a moment where Cora did look as though she wanted to say something, but she only pursed her lips and tapped her fingers together while watching him in silent, rapt anxiety.

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

Seeing a Cora on his feet brought a wave of relief. The memory of finding her on that mountain was far too fresh. He followed after her, trying to work out why they needed to talk.

He took the film. For a moment, all he saw were shadows and shapes. It was a scatter of ink on thin film.

Then it hit him.

The room was too quiet, save for the rhythmic drip of her IV. It filled the space where he should have been reacting, marking the seconds it took for his brain to catch up. When he realised what he held, his heart quietly followed his brain.

He lifted the card closer. His fingers trembled ever so slightly. The grainy image came into focus: a small, hazy curve. It was like a small white bean smudged against the dark.

“Cora…” His voice broke around her name, all the breath gone from his chest. “Is this...?

Makko blinked once, twice. They had talked at length about this decision. His imagination had brought him joy but it was a dream that never quite took a shape in his mind. Now it was real. It was a shape, even if he couldn't make out much of that shape.

He set the card down carefully on the edge of the bed.

“Cora…” he breathed, sinking down on the bed. He sat beside her waist, turning to face her as he reached for her hand.

“You’re… we’re..." He let out a shaky laugh, halfway between disbelief and wonder. He was grinning and crying as he tried to find something to say.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

As Makko examined the ultrasound photos, Cora had to remind herself to breathe. Every little crease in his expression, every tremble in his hand sparked a flurry of anxious excitement. It took root in her stomach and crawled outwards from there, tingling up her chest and throat before it spread to her limbs.

Usually so verbose, all she could do was croak out an awkward "yeah" as Makko sat beside her. He reached for her hand, and she didn't even remember lacking her fingers with his own.

They'd talked about starting a family, but there was never a good time to do so during a war. It was a dream that always seemed further away, towards a future that was already bright and shining.

Now, they had to ground themselves in reality. Reality in the shape of a little white smudge.

Cora let her head fall against Makko's shoulder. She had to roll her eyes to look up at him.

"They're discharging me soon," she murmured. "It's…I’m about seven weeks, they said. They found a heartbeat-"

She choked on the lump in her throat. The singular line of fetal heartbeat not detected was burned into her memory, even all those years ago.

Cora drew in a slow breath, willing her shoulders to relax on her exhale.

"It's still early," she started again, voice just as soft, "but I feel…different with this one. They want me to follow up with the maternity hospital on Naboo."

Neither of them had good parental models, their childhoods rife with neglect and abuse.

This, though. This was a family that they could build on their own.

A thought as thrilling as it was terrifying.

“Okay?” She asked. It wasn’t really for confirmation of their next steps, but a question for him.

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

Makko had faced plenty of unknowns in his life, but few of them made his hands shake like the tiny streak of light on that grainy film.

He stared at it for what felt like an age. Then, as Cora’s words finally sank in, he exhaled slowly.

“Seven weeks,” he echoed, voice low, reverent. The idea of time felt strange all of a sudden. It was like this moment sat at the middle of a Web of possibilities. Now their future was down a different stand. Seven months felt like a long time and very short time.

Cora looked small against the white sheets, impossibly strong for all the things she'd endured.

Her words had settled into understanding. It was the tone that took a little longer for Makko to follow. A heartbeat. He saw the fear beneath the surface.

"Okay," he said firmly. He smiled before placing a kiss against her forehead.

"You did good. And I'm here now," he murmured. His voice had gone rough with emotion.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes blue and wide and still too afraid to hope. His chest ached at the sight.

“Yeah,” he whispered, a faint smile ghosting across his lips. “Ill take you there. It'll all be okay."

He tried to grin, to tease, to fall back on the banter that usually steadied him, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, when he drew back his eyes went to the film.

"That's... That's our child," he whispered, as if saying it would make it sink in.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

With her free hand, Cora reached for the film and held it out in front of them.

"It looks like a…bean, doesn't it?"

The hand that held Makko's own squeezed. For a moment, the rhythmic sounds of mechanical beeping emanated through the white curtain and settled between them. At the far end of the hall, there was the distant, muted sound of chatter.

"Our bean," she murmured. "Our child."

It felt so strange to say out loud, especially so given how often they'd discussed starting a family. Now it was real.

Cora placed the photo onto her lap and turned her head inward, pressing her face against Makko's shoulder. Their lives as Jedi could keep them apart, but the bond that tethered them has grown healthy and strong. Now, she couldn't fathom being apart from him.

"We'll have to figure out a nursery. And who will cover for me later on, and childcare while we're away. And names and…what do we do if there's a problem? What if they get sick?"

All measures of patience fell away as Cora began to ramble, tripping over one thought before she could get to the next.

She'd been too afraid to hope, but unable to stop herself from both hope and worry.

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

"Our bean," she murmured. "Our child."

Makko laughed softly, the sound almost disbelieving.

"Yeah," he murmured, gaze fixed on the film. "Our bean. Our tiny bean."

The phrase our child echoed faintly back in his head carrying all the weight that came with it. The words felt too big, too precious for the small white curtain enclosing them.

When Cora leaned into his shoulder, he instinctively shifted to make room for her, one arm looping gently around her. He could feel the tremor of nerves still running through her. It wasn't fear, exactly, a little anxiety that she had earned.

"We'll have to figure out a nursery. And who will cover for me later on, and childcare while we're away. And names and…what do we do if there's a problem? What if they get sick?"

“Hey,” he said softly, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand as she rambled. “One thing at a time.”

He spoke calmly, but he felt his own layer of panic set in. She would feel that too. He didn't hide it.

He didn't know how to build a nursery. He didn't know how they would schedule childcare. His parents had barely featured in his own life.

"Maybe...let's start with a name?"

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

One thing at a time.

Cora blew out a brusque breath. It shifted a lock of golden hair that had fallen over her eyes. She smiled up at Makko, nerves edging the line of her lips, and grounded herself in the way he stroked her hand.

The fact that he was just as anxious as she was, Cora found oddly soothing. They both adored children, but neither of them really knew what to do with a baby, much less how to properly raise a child.

"We have a lot to learn, don't we?"

The rasp of her voice suddenly sounded tired, even overwhelmed. She wasn't alone in this. They weren't alone. There were friends who would help guide them through this new territory, but that didn't make it any less intimidating – or any less exciting.

"A name?" she echoed. "Oh. I hadn't thought…" A slow laugh followed, realizing that it was the simplest thing to imagine. Simple, but not easy. Cora had spent her time picturing soft, chubby limbs and pitched giggles.

Now she had to come up with a name, and that task suddenly seemed gargantuan. How had her parents done this ten times over?

"If it's a girl, then maybe we could call her after my mother, Luciana? What do you think?"

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

Makko squeezed her hand again, the warmth of her skin grounding him in a way words couldn’t. For all his experience with the impossible, this was different. This was suddenly very real. Fragile, miraculous, terrifyingly real.

He let out a soft breath that almost turned into a laugh.

"A lot to learn," he agreed quietly. "And probably a lot of mistakes along the way. But… we’ll figure it out." His thumb brushed gently across her knuckles.

"Together."

For a moment, he simply watched her. He looked at the uncertainty in her smile and thought about the fatigue in her voice. She was so strong. He hadn't even thought about the danger she had been in.

Was it okay that he'd referred to their child as a smudge of a bean?

“Luciana,” he repeated, tasting the sound of it, the gentle rise and fall.

“Yeah...”

A name was something to picture with a real child. It was a picture he placed all three of them into.

“I don't exactly have family names. We live on Ukatis, not Denon," he reasoned. "I quite liked Malric and Joriel."

Makko had been reading up about names. Something harsh and Denon wouldn't sound right at the kind of events they went to. Given Cora's genetics, he wondered if they were mostly likely to have girls.

"What do we even need for a nursery?" he asked suddenly, as a little panic caught up with him.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Lucy for short," she offered as Makko tested out the name for himself. She still wasn't certain if she wanted to name their first child after a woman who hadn't played a particularly prominent role in her life.

We're going to be different, she resolved. Their children would be loved and cared for.

A brow rose at her husband's suggestion. "Those are Ukatian names."

The tone of her voice somehow still lingered ever after she went quiet. It wasn't disapproval, but rather, mild surprise. Makko had been born into a city-planet comprised of duracrete and steel. The only greenery in his district on Denon had been a few hardy weeds growing in between cracks. He'd embraced Ukatis, with its wide open spaces and mediocre technology, surprisingly well.

She was proud of him, really. Of the man he'd become and the relationship they'd built. The galaxy could plunge itself into fire, but to her, he'd always be a place of safety and warmth.

"For the nursery? A bassinet, for one. And a mobile. And…" she squinted, trying to remember what else had occupied the room her younger siblings had their start in. All she could recall was the smooth feel of wood beneath her hands as she grasped the railings of the crib, and peered down at the lately soft, smooth face to join the Ascania brood.

"…Furniture, I presume." Cora's sounded less confident than when she'd started listing what they'd need for the baby.

Because they'd need far, far more than that. She just didn't know what, exactly.

"Let's just focus on being happy for now," she decided with a squeeze of his hand. "We can work on…all of everything else in time."

With a smile, she took Makko's hand and placed it against the flat of her abdomen.

"I wonder how much longer until we'll feel our bean kicking?"

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

Makko wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to hearing it out loud. Our child. The words echoed in his head like a melody that hadn’t quite settled into rhythm yet. His thumb traced slow circles over the back of Cora’s hand as she spoke.

"Don't think you want a Vex or a Jyn or a Tak," Makko mused. Ukatis and it's culture might have caused them both harm, but their child would grow up there.

“Lucy,” he said softly, testing the sound as if he could already see a face to match it.

“Yeah.” A faint smile tugged at his lips.

He leaned back a little, eyes drifting to the faint curve of her stomach as she led her hand down.

It still didn’t seem real yet. There was no guide for navigating this, but he had found his way around the net on his own. He'd found his way with Cora.

For a long moment, he said nothing, just felt the faint warmth beneath his palm, as if he could already sense the life beginning there.

“I don't know,” he murmured. He smiled as he imagined being able to feel their child moving.

"I'll look it up," he declared, with a new and eager tone in his voice. He would also look up what a bassinet was.

"Do we need to be more...careful or stop...you know... And when can I take you home?"

The second question came more quickly as he tried to cover his ignorance in asking the first.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

That bright, eager tone hit her like a blaster bolt to the heart. Lancing through her, it filled Cora with the sort of warmth that both soothed and overflowed. His excitement became her solace.

He wanted this. She did, too. Cora suspected that it would take them some time to get their heads properly wrapped around blissful reality.

She hadn't been sure how Makko would react, despite their numerous discussions about starting a family. They'd agreed to wait until the war tapered off, but…

Cora squinted, trying to remember exactly what had happened seven weeks ago. That train of thought was sharply derailed by her husband's question, then another that quickly followed to cover up his awkward inquiry.

"Oh, I, uh…"

Pulling her now pinked face away from his shoulder, Cora blinked in stupefaction. That hadn't crossed her mind.

"Is that all you think about?" She grumbled, teasing. Her hand still rested atop his own, and her thumb moved to brush along his knuckles.

"The doctors here are focused on treating combat wounds so…that might not be a question for them. But, ah, I think they're just waiting for another set of labs to come back, and then we can go home and follow up with the maternity hospital."

Cora paused, tilting her head to peer down at her stomach. She didn't speak for a few long moments.

"I thought it was just…I don't know, nerves that I was feeling." Slowly, she drew in a breath through her nose and settled her head back onto Makko's shoulder.

"We'll be able to tell them that they were on the Death Star III. Won't that be a story?"

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

Pulling her now pinked face away from his shoulder, Cora blinked in stupefaction. That hadn't crossed her mind.

"Is that all you think about?" She grumbled, teasing.

Makko gave a small shrug. He was clearly more confused about what they had to do and what they had to avoid for the next seven months.

"When can we find out if it's a girl or..."

He stopped himself before he just rattled off more questions.

"We'll be able to tell them that they were on the Death Star III. Won't that be a story?"

Makko’s mouth curved into a small, lopsided grin.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice soft with wonder. “Not many kids get to say that.”

He stayed still for a moment, just listening to the hum of the medbay and the rhythm of Cora’s breathing against his shoulder.

The image that she’d painted - a story they’d someday tell their child - lodged itself deep in his chest. There was a whole future rolling out ahead of them.

When he finally spoke again, it was low and a little rough. He finally put words to what they had both thought about.

“You know, when I was growing up, I didn’t think I’d ever get to have something like this. A home. You. A family.” His thumb brushed the back of her hand.

“We didn't exactly have a caring upbringing. Well do right by..."

He looked down at her middle.

"...whoever you turn out to be."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

“You know, when I was growing up, I didn’t think I’d ever get to have something like this. A home. You. A family.” His thumb brushed the back of her hand.

The line of Cora's smile trembled faintly. A glassy sheen over her eyes caught the harsh, clinical lighting overhead.

When the pair had first met as teenagers, they didn't get along. As they moved through the phases of their relationship, Cora has been afforded glimpses of Makko's life before the Jedi. It had been an existence focused on survival, devoid of genuine love. On his little corner of Denon, vulnerability got you killed.

"This is…what I've always wanted, really."

And she meant it.

Cora always pictured herself living in a grand manor or a castle with a noble husband. She'd gotten that reality, too - and it turned out to be far darker than her rosy musings could've ever predicted. In that fantasy come to life, she'd learned what cruelty really was.

But it was Makko who'd taught her what love really was. The street kid from Denon was more of a prince than any Ukatian nobleman.

"Yeah," she agreed softly. Her hand moved over her stomach in gentle circles a. "Yeah. We'll do right by them. This little bean is going to be loved no matter what.”

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

Makko’s thumb brushed away one of the tears before it could fall, and he leaned his forehead against hers for a quiet moment of shared breath. The warmth of her voice, the softness in her eyes made the noise of the medbay fade until there was nothing left but the quiet pulse of their bond.

“They already are,” he murmured.

Time passed quickly after that. Cora’s discharge came with a handful of instructions and a promise to take things slowly. The journey back to Ukatis was calm. From orbit, the planet looked peaceful. Emerald forests rolling into pale mountains, clouds like spun glass over the seas. The scars of war were hard to see from orbit. They were in the people and the roads of the capital.

When they touched down at the manor, the familiar scent of rain on grass greeted them. They went to a family home so that some of the family staff could help her recover. For a few brief days, the world felt untouched by war.

But the illusion didn’t last. By the end of the week, the first shuttles began to appear on scanners. There refugee transports from the territories the empire had passed through, battered and overfilled. The calm they’d found on Ukatis was about to be tested once again.

"I suppose we should work out the nursery this morning and then make to the camps," Makko said as they sat for breakfast.

"You can't overdo it," he added softly.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora had spent the greater part of breakfast pushing oatmeal around her bowl. It amazed her how quickly her appetite could now turn – she'd craved this exact meal upon awakening, and now it was...bleh.

"I know," she murmured back, halfheartedly. "I won't."

She stared down at her spoon, watching as is pushed a clump of gelatinous oats to one side of the bowl. Fifteen years or so ago, her father would've scolded her for playing with her food. Cora picked a berry from the mixture and nibbled at it.

"Are you sure that you want to live here when the baby comes?" she asked suddenly. There was plenty of space. Plenty of staff. The air was clean and the food was good, oats notwithstanding. Maybe it would be for the best, at least in the beginning. There would always be someone to look after them, given the lives their parents led.

Idly, her free had had drifted to cradle her stomach. Eight weeks. Forty weeks was a long way off, it seemed, but Cora knew that it would come soon enough.

"We could pick out a room," she continued. "Something with natural lightning. And commission some of the craftsmen in the village for furniture."

Cora paused. So far, everything in this child's life was slated to be Ukatian – their home, their potential name, even their aesthetics. It didn't seem fair.

"Do you want them to have anything more Denon-style?"

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

Makko watched her stir the oatmeal. He had seen her push food around before battles, after missions, in the middle of sleepless nights.

He had searched the holonet and apparently the baby would be fine if she couldn't eat. It would just continue stealing nutrients from Cora. She needed to eat for her.

He knew that she would try not to do too much, but he also knew that she was a selfless soul who would do the right thing. Even if it meant putting herself in danger. They would both have to change their behaviours.

"I’m sure," he said quietly. "It’s peaceful here. Maybe we can think of the country house when we're more settled," he said. Makko had let it all sink in, but he was a little frightened of how the chaos of the first months would go.

When she mentioned the room and the craftsmen, his eyes followed hers to the window. Morning light spilled through it, soft and gold.

"Natural light sounds perfect. They should wake up to that every day."

Makko smiled softly. It was hard to imagine waking up to sunlight and fresh air. And parents that cared about you.

At her final question, he laughed quietly, shaking his head.

"Denon-style? I'm not sure what that would mean. Acid rain, street fights?"

He paused, a touch more thoughtful. Her question deserved that.

"Maybe just a small thing. Something that reminds them where I came from. A keepsake. I don't know what but I'll think about it."

"I was so proud of being from Denon once."

His thumb brushed across one of the scars between his fingers where they had cut him for missing targets pushing spice.

He leaned back, gaze softening as it fell on her hand resting over her stomach.

"Really not feeling hungry?" he asked.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora's gaze was drawn to the space between Makko's fingers. She frowned, recalling an instance shortly after they'd met, where he'd told her how he'd received those scars.

She'd pinched herself there, just to feel a fraction of his pain. It had hurt. How much worse had it been for him?

They'd changed since then. So much anger and pride had covered up the fundamentals of who they were. Now, they'd grown more honest. Not just in general, but with eachother.

"Not really," she said. "I'll bring something by with me, though." Usually, her appetite perked up in the middle of the day. Strangely, having something in her stomach helped the nausea abate.

Makko had been hovering around her more than usual, sharing in her strange mix of nervous excitement. It was sweet. He'd started reading parenting books, turning to the holonet for his more immediate questions.

"A keepsake would be nice," she admitted. "I want her to know that she's not just from Ukatis."

Her. It was too early for an anatomy scan to show the sex of the baby, but Cora had an inkling. Or perhaps, it was just wishful thinking.

Carefully, she picked a blackberry from her bowl of oats and held it up to Makko, pinched between her thumb and forefinger.

"I've been doing some reading of my own, you know. She's about this size now."

It was both immensely strange and wonderful to think of their child growing within her, right now. The timing could've been better - on the crux of another galactic catastrophe - but it could've been worse, too. The Empire had been relatively quiet since their defeat at Atrisia, but it was too early to tell if this was the quiet before the storm or another long silence.

"What if she's like us?"

Cora frowned, as she placed the berry down onto a napkin. "I don't want her to put herself in danger like we do."

Makko Vyres

 

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

"A keepsake would be nice," she admitted. "I want her to know that she's not just from Ukatis."

"I like that," Makko agreed. "Don't be thinking I'll end up so native she won't know."

Makko was aware that he has slipped into she as well.

"What if she's like us?"

Makko's expression softened as he watched her set the berry down.

"Like us?" he said after a moment.

"Oh like us."

Understanding dawned on his face. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I don't want her to get hurt either, Cora. I don't want her to see half the things we've seen. It's not like everyone who can use the Force is a fighter. I don't want her to grow up scared though."

Makko hesitated, searching for the right words.

"There's like a whole... Everything of possibilities they could be," he said, in what was not one of his greatest turns of eloquence.

"We can show... Are you really sure it's a her? Never mind... We can show them how to control the Force, but they can be whatever they want."

"If the fighting we did doesn't make that possible then it wasn't worth it," he declared.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora leveled something like a glare at Makko when he questioned her instincts regarding the gender of their unborn child, but it didn't last long and lacked genuine bite. She was distracted by everything else he said.

"Yeah," she murmured, still thinking. "Yeah. We can show them how to control the Force. They can be whatever they want."

But what if they want to be a Jedi?

As proud as she was of their chosen path and the struggles they'd overcome along it, Cora wasn't certain how she'd feel if their child wanted to put themselves in the same danger. Force, how did Valery and Kahlil do it? Maybe a conversation was in order.

---

Cora stared into the long mirror. She'd turned herself to the side, shirt hitched up and above her stomach a she observed the gentle curve of her abdomen.

Both hands ran back and forth over the bump. At fourteen weeks, she wasn't really showing in her normal clothes given that she tended to avoid tight-fitting cuts. The term maternity girdle was used exactly once by a governess before being politely, but firmly, shut down.

It was a shame, though. Cora quite liked the way the lines of her gowns laid over a properly fitted corset.

"Do you think it's noticeable?" She frowned, then turned to the other side. "Or does it look like I've just had too much to eat?"

Makko Vyres