Private Iron and Stars: A Spark in Winter

[Ivy Maro]

.: Thurion Heavenshield ,

I am sending one of our Initiates to assist with the developing flight academy at Falkenstad. Her name is Ivy Maro. She has served the Republic admirably, though I suspect she has yet to discover where she truly belongs.

I ask that you extend to her the hospitality you have always shown those who come to Midvinter. Should she choose to learn from you, teach her only what you would freely offer any Jedi who sought your counsel.

May the Force guide you both.

— Ala Quin :.

​

The journey had been long. Exceptionally long. Midvinter existed so far from the galaxy's established territory that reaching it required a labyrinth of carefully charted hyperspace routes, intermediary stations, and navigational corrections. The final stretches crossed regions where major hyperlanes simply... ended.

By the time the shuttle was making its final approach toward the system, Ivy couldn't remember whether she'd been traveling for days or weeks. It all blurred together into stars.

Her thoughts wandered back to where her assignment had begun...

Only what felt like yesterday—and simultaneously a lifetime ago—she had been on board a Republic Navy cruiser stationed in High Republic space, finishing routine flight duties when an encrypted summons arrived requesting her presence in a private communications room.

"I have a favor to ask." The projector blossomed to life, revealing the calm holographic image of Ala Quin. Even rendered in blue light, the small woman somehow carried the same quiet warmth that made Ivy feel simultaneously at ease yet compelled to stand a little straighter in the presence of the renowned Jedi Grandmaster.

Something about her being "uniquely suited" to help train some Force-sensitive potential pilots on a remote world called Midvinter, and a Jedi Master named Thurion who would meet her there, Ala explained. Ivy had objected at first, certain she was underqualified for such a diplomatic-sounding Jedi mission, but flattery and curiosity and a break from the mundane Navy routine got the better of her, accepting Ala's invitation for adventure.

"I'll let him know you're coming." Ala smiled. Ivy got the feeling she was being set up for something. If Ala had gone through the trouble of pulling strings with the RDF to send one of their fledgling starfighter pilots all the way to the other end of the galaxy, there was probably more to this than just special coincidence. "There is no urgency," Ala told her, almost too casually. "Stay as long or as briefly as you wish. Learn what you can. Midvinter is... unlike anywhere else in the galaxy. I think you'll enjoy meeting its people."

The transmission ended before Ivy had time to ask half the questions bouncing around inside her head. Most of those answers came later, during the voyage itself. A few guides and spacers familiar with Midvinter had been assigned to accompany Ivy on the trip, spending the long journey preparing her for what awaited.

A holographic map rotated slowly before her...

"Falkenstad is located just east of Heavenheim," one of the guides explained, highlighting a thriving city neighboring the royal capital. "One of Midvinter's most liberal, progressive cities," he warned, with a hint of amusement. "There's a lot of political conflict about the city. Most people around Falkenstad would rather stick to the 'old ways' of 'no tech, no contact'. No 'cultural adulteration' with outsiders or off-worlders," he explained, more seriously. On the holomap, he zoomed out across Falkenstad's territory, with many other towns and settlements occupying the region. "There's been several riots against the city for allowing tech and outsiders in."

"Yeah. You may want to cover those up," another teased, chuckling at Ivy.

"What?" Ivy blinked at him.

"Your ears."

"Why?"

"There's a race of people here, called the Aelvar. They look like Humans except for their pointy ears."

"Oh."

"Falkenstad is mostly inhabited by Humans. Aelvar are outsiders. There's a bit of a rivalry between them, in Falkenstad. Sometimes friendly, sometimes not..."

Ivy nodded along.

"You're probably fine." He chuckled.

Ivy's lips pressed together tightly at the thought.

"You'll stand out either way."

​

The shuttle settled onto an open landing platform with a gentle hiss. As the boarding ramp lowered, a wave of crisp mountain air swept inside. Ivy took a deep, appreciative breath. Unlike the sterile scent of starports throughout most Republic space, this place smelled of pine, fresh earth, snowy rivers, and forge smoke. And somewhere nearby... fresh bread.

Ivy drew her jacket just a little tighter around herself. Her boots clicked softly against ancient stone as she took in her surroundings. It felt as if she had stepped into a painting, awed by the towering pristine nature that crowned Falkenstad. Jagged mountain ranges rose like the backs of sleeping giants, their snow-capped peaks catching the afternoon sun in brilliant gold. Endless forests blanketed the valleys below in rich emerald, broken by glittering rivers that carved silver ribbons through the wilderness before spilling into a vast sapphire sea...

Construction echoed throughout the landing field bustling with activity. Sturdy men and women hauled crates by hand, laughing as they worked. A pair of primitive wagons rolled past carrying timber, stone and metal for half-finished hangars being pounded together with a chorus of hammers.

A few children stared openly at the arriving spacecraft, waving at Ivy as she passed by. Ivy waved back.

A broad smile spread across Ivy's face. Everything about Falkenstad felt wonderfully... homemade. Rustic. For a moment, Ivy forgot she was technically on assignment. Midvinter possessed little in the way of advanced aerospace infrastructure, but its mountains, violent winter storms, and unforgiving terrain would make excellent training grounds for pilots, she reckoned, if that was where her assignment was leading her to.

A welcoming officer greeted Ivy before touring her through the growing academy grounds. Several longhouses surrounded an open training field where a few dummy starfighters rested beside more primitive gliders designed by local craftsmen. A stable sat beside a fuel depot. Someone had even tied a gryphon outside one of the classroom buildings.

As Ivy entered the main training hall, conversations gradually quieted. Around two dozen prospective pilots gathered, eyes settling on Ivy, who only thought it polite to wave, smile and introduce herself while their gazes drifted towards the one feature Ivy had no shame to bother covering up, sporting her hair in a high ponytail with the tips of her ears clearly visible.

Two young men exchanged playful looks that carried just enough competitiveness to suggest their particular rivalry had been going on long before Ivy had arrived. One of them, a broad-shouldered Human—or Valkyri, as Ivy had learned they were called here, on Midvinter—with windswept blond hair wandered over to Ivy first. The other, slim and emerald-eyed with unmistakably pointed ears, followed shortly after, welcoming Ivy to Midvinter with a more refined accent in Basic compared to his rougher Valkyri cohort, which then incited the two men to banter with each other:

"I thought you leaf-eaters preferred talking to trees," the Valkyri teased.

"True. They are better conversationalists," the Aelvar quipped.

"Careful." The man leaned towards Ivy. "Stand any closer and he'll try recruiting you into the forest."

"Surely she belongs with us." The other smirked, circling around Ivy flirtatiously.

"Or perhaps she prefers someone who can actually lift an engine."

Ivy felt warmth creep into her freckled cheeks, but nonetheless tried to brush it off with some modern Core humor. "Ladies, ladies! You're both pretty..."

Tension seemed to ease as the others laughed. Ivy smiled to herself, hoping this was the worst that political divisions and racial conflicts had to offer her in Falkenstad.
​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

F A L K E N S T A D
M I D V I N T E R ​

A golved hand reached down, boots creaking and bones popping as his knees bent with the gesture. A rose, its petals like glass, stood alone amongst a field of tall grass. He does not pluck the flower from its roots, or sever it at the stem, but merely caresses its crystalline beauty. "Beautiful," he uttered like a whisper on the wind. "What say you, my love?" He looked up as if to find her kneeling across from him, smiling at him. He smiled back at her, but as the sound of a descending starship cut through the silence had him look skywards, by the time he brought his gaze back down she had vanished.

A low rumble and feathers ruffling had him turn around from where he knelt. "Nobody asked you," he chided his winged steed, impatient as ever. Thurion sighed, caressed the crystalline rose, then severed it at the stem and plucked it from its bed. He inserted it into the clasp of his cloak where it would sit secured the remainder of the short flight. "Alright, you overgrown chicken, let's go." The mighty gryphon brought its large head down to nuzzle him with its beak powerful enough to pierce the thickest armour. Skywalker spread his wings and eagerly took flight with his rider of five decades, and would bear them to Falkenstad in mere minutes.

By the time Ivy Maro had landed and entered the academy grounds, Skywalker would be seen preening outside one of the classroom buildings, none daring approach the mythic beast for fear of being rent asunder. Waiting for her inside the training hall was Flight Master Jurgen, a harsh but fair taskmaster of the Duergar race. Never seen without his trusty smoking pipe, he gave the latecomers a stern look whilst stroking his impressive beard. "Oi, ya wee shitheads! Yer holdin' up yer mates!"

Startled by the loud outburst, the pair of would-be pilots returned to the fold with their tails between their legs. When Ivy would move to join them, she would feel a large hand upon her shoulder, physically holding her in place. "It's unwise to upset Master Jurgen on your first day," spoke a deep voice behind her. The stranger towered over her, and would offer a kind smile down at her when she turned around.

"But something tells me you're no fresh-faced recruit, are you," he released his hold of her and took a step back to size her up. "You are Ivy, no? Come all the way from the High Republic to the end of the known galaxy. Surely, you must be weary of starships by now?"

He inclined his head by way of greeting. "I am Thurion Heavenshield. The people of this world call me 'King'. To you, I am but Thurion."

 

[Ivy Maro]

The instructor's shout—what most Humans would simply call a dwarf—had startled Ivy for half a heartbeat. A few years ago she probably would have jumped. But now? Several months in the Navy, countless drills, inspections, and officers capable of reducing an entire hangar deck to silence with a single word... Not exactly unfamiliar territory for Ivy, who merely folded her hands behind her back and wore the same polite expression she'd perfected around superior officers and complete strangers alike.

Foreign world. Foreign customs. Best to observe before speaking. Ivy stepped forward to join the others—

—and felt a large hand settle gently on her shoulder. Her muscles tightened before she could stop them. Ivy pivoted, ready to identify whoever had decided grabbing an unfamiliar Jedi from behind was acceptable etiquette.

Her eyes widened slightly. The man standing over her was enormously tall, well over seven feet, yet despite his size, there was nothing aggressive in the way Thurion Heavenshield held himself. His voice was deep, steady, calm, carrying authority without needing to raise its volume. Ivy wasn't too intimidated. But momentarily impressed? Absolutely.

"'King'?" Ivy blinked. Her eyes traveled from Thurion's face, to his armor, then back up again. Ivy folded one arm across herself, squinting with playful skepticism. "Is that a nickname or...?"

The Force had already answered her, long before Thurion did. His presence, the quiet certainty that surrounded him with the same powerful aura she'd sensed around Ala Quin too. Not to mention the elegant craftsmanship of his armor and the regal sound of his descriptor "Heavenshield"... Ivy stared in processing for a split second, realizing she was woefully unprepared on how to conduct herself in front of royalty.

"Wait a minute, you're an actual king?!" She blurted. A grin exploded across Ivy's face before she could stop it. "Wow, isn't that something!" A laugh escaped her, laughing almost entirely at herself and the ironies of life, then realized she was laughing in front of an actual monarch. Straightening up, Ivy pressed her lips together in a hopeless attempt to compose herself.

"Sorry..." One last involuntary chuckle escaped anyway. "Ahem– So you're Thurion." She looked back up at him with a mischievous smile. "Yeah, I'm Ivy. Ivy Maro." Giddy inside that a king would know her name. "Grandmaster Ala Quin—you know her, right? You're one of the Jedi..." She caught herself rambling and waved a hand. "Anyway, she asked me to come over here and 'be of assistance' with the flight academy over here in Falkenstad. I'm a pilot with the RDF, if you need to see my resume," she said playfully. "She said you were a Jedi and that you lived here, but she didn't tell me you were a king! That's awesome!" Ivy gave a little enthusiastic hop on her toes.

Her attention shortly drifted to the flower fastened neatly into the clasp of Thurion's cloak. An interesting choice of accessory for a man dressed in armor.

"May I ask...?" She started gingerly, pointing to the flower with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes and a curious tilt of her head at Thurion. "Lover? ...Or botanist?"

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

The older man regarded the padawan with an amused smile while witnessing her initial reaction, as she tried to wrap her mind around his conflicting titles. Her giddiness was infectuous, however misguided; too young to know the tremendous burden of crown or scepter. Far be it for him to dismiss her enthusiasm, at any rate.

"I am, and it is," he reaffirmed his royal title with a soft chuckle.

"Yes, I know of Grandmaster Quin. Though we've not met in person, nevertheless I've offered the services of myself and Midvinter should the need arise. The High Republic remains the last bastion against the Dark in the galaxy since the fall of the Alliance, and I would do my part in its defense." He idly rested the palm of his hand upon the pommel of his sword, watching the novice pilots climb aboard their experimental fighters. Two years ago, a flight academy on Midvinter seemed like the loftiest of dreams given their inadequate technology and available resources. It was thanks to the recent treaty with the Duergar that their engineers and craftsmen were set loose upon the surface world, and see their creativity freed from the shackles of religious dogma that hampered their existence in the depths of the world below.

Her mention of the flower had him look where she indicated, and cupped the delicate flower with his hand. It was not a subject he'd been meaning to broach with a relative stranger, but it would be rude not to answer. "It's... for my wife. Her favourite. She's the botanist." He caressed one of its petals, until one of the fighters' engines roared alive, snapping him out of it.

"Let's carry on this conversation outside, shall we? Saves us having to shout at one another," he indicated back towards where she'd entered. His large cape billowed behind him as he spun around, waiting for her to join him.

"We'll be pleased to have you, Lady Maro," he spoke as they stepped towards the exit. "The concept of flight is still new to the people of this world. Our newfound friends from below have made tremendous progress, going from rudimentary gyrocopters to those in but a handful of months. Your experience will be invaluable to this academy."

Once outside he took deep breath, inhaling the crisp cold air. Skywalker, having finished preening, menacingly walked towards the pair, predatory eyes fixed on the stranger beside his rider. Thurion, for Ivy's sake, stepped between them and held out his hand, causing the mighty gryphon to nuzzle its beak against his palm as if it were but just another pet.

"Good boy, Sky," Thurion gave him a good scratch beneath his chin, then turned back to Ivy.

"You will find that there is much to behold during your stay, Padawan. This world is ancient and its inhabitants hardened by leading hard lives. Skywalker here was among the very last of his kind, hunted to near extinction, until I found him and mended his wing. Their species lives on through his offspring, thank the gods. And he has been my companion through many an adventure..." he reminisced fondly while giving the winged feline a pat on the neck and stroking its massive head of feathers, prompting a rumbling purr from the beast.

"You can pet him if you like. I've softened him up for you."

Ivy Maro ​

 

[Ivy Maro]

His wife. The answer was simple, spoken with a softness that contrasted with the imposing figure before her. Ivy noticed the moment pass, but accepted the explanation for what it was and quietly tucked the observation away, for now.

Far be it from her to ignore a king's request. Ivy fell into step beside Thurion Heavenshield as they exited the training hall. The cool mountain air greeted her once again, carrying with it the scents of pine, snow, and woodsmoke.

"Lady". The word lingered in her mind. Nobody had ever called her that before. It sounded too dignified. "Invaluable"? That too felt like a stretch. "Oh." Ivy smiled anyway, unable to hide a touch of bashful pride. "Thank you."

Ivy had spent enough of her life doubting herself that praise still landed awkwardly, as though it belonged to someone else. She wasn't some legendary ace pilot—just someone who had tried to work hard, made mistakes, and somehow found herself flying starfighters at the edge of the known galaxy. Still... It was kind of him to say. Ivy decided not to argue with Thurion over his generosity.

Then something enormous began walking toward them... A gryphon. Ivy had never seen anything remotely like it before.

Every thought Thurion had been expressing about Midvinter, ancient traditions, and Skywalker's remarkable story dissolved into background noise inside Ivy's head. Her attention locked onto the magnificent creature as it approached with slow, confident strides, predatory eyes studying her with unnerving intelligence. Ivy instinctively slowed her own pace, giving both rider and beast a respectful berth. She kept her posture relaxed, careful not to stare too boldly into Skywalker's eyes. She knew just enough about animals to know that prolonged eye contact wasn't always appreciated.

Ivy couldn't help smiling, watching Thurion's bond with the fearsome creature. When he invited her to come closer, Ivy hesitated for a brief moment.

"Sure..." She answered a little too casually for someone whose heart had suddenly started beating much faster. She knew better than to take most owners at their word claiming their pets wouldn't bite. Especially giant ones with sharp beaks and claws capable of removing limbs.

Trying very hard not to look nervous—animals could sense that sort of thing, couldn't they?—Ivy approached one careful step at a time. She offered Skywalker the back of her hand, allowing him to inspect her scent first, before venturing a little closer. Her fingers rested tentatively against the gryphon's broad shoulder before carefully combing through the thick, soft feathers around his neck.

"Wow..." She whispered. Ivy looked back at Thurion with a grin she couldn't contain, equal parts wonder and anxious excitement. She laughed softly as her hand continued absentmindedly stroking Skywalker's feathered mane.

"You said he has kids?" She glanced between the gryphon and his rider, recalling the mention of Skywalker's offspring. "Do they live with you?"

"Oh—and, um, I'm not a Padawan, by the way." She looked at Thurion with an apologetic smile, aware that the lightsaber hilt hanging from her belt often sparked presumptions. "Friend of the Order but not an actual member of the Order, if that makes sense." She scratched lightly beneath one of Skywalker's feathers, encouraged by the fact that she still possessed all of her fingers. "I guess I look the part and everyone calls me the part...but I don't consider myself to be the part, just yet. I'm still figuring it out. Anyway..."

Her gaze drifted back up toward Thurion. "So, does this mean you have one of those big fancy palace-castles? And a throne?" Her eyes brightened with whimsical curiosity.

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

He looked on with great amusement at Ivy's trepidant stroking of Skywalker's feathery mane, and took note of how he leaned into her caress. "Oh, he must've sired a couple dozen by now. Him and Cloud-Dancer are as inseparable as they come, and every other year, when their last litter have flown the coop, a few more cubs are born in their eyrie. He is Heavenheim's guardian, depicted on the city coat of arms, and is hailed as the 'Father of All Gryphons'. And he's my friend," he smiled fondly.

"He acts tough, but deep down he's just a big softie," he added just as Skywalker rear his head and shook his mane, sitting upright like any feline with his wings neatly folded behind him, towering high above both of them.

Thurion turned to Ivy, hands resting upon the pommel of his sword. "Then we are kindreds, Lady Maro," he nodded softly, "for I have not served an order for many decades, since the golden age of the Silver Jedi. I wager you're too young to know of them. My oath as king binds me to this world, yet it prevents me not from intervening in service of the Force."

The King, having observed Ivy this whole time, had an inquisitive look on his face. He stepped closer and reached out, ever-so-gently brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, exposing it. He leaned down that their eyes were made level.

"Where do you hail from, Lady Jedi, may I ask? Be there Sephi ancestry in your bloodline, mayhaps?" He knelt down, for the sake of her neck and his back.

Ivy Maro ​