Private Naboo Nights

[Kaila Irons]

Location: Theed, one day after Serenno...
Wearing: Body glove
Tag: Ala Quin

Kaila had spent some time pondering how she got here.

She was currently sitting sidelong in a windowsill somewhere in the Jedi temple on Naboo, in the room of a Jedi master no less.

There was no other way to contact Ala. They hadn't used their circlets since Echnos, and she doubted Ala kept it. Her disguise was useless now that she'd let the soul within go free, and it would remain such until she sacrificed another to take their form. That was no way to greet an old... friend. Even if she did disguise herself, the leg would give her away.

Was her plan much better? far from it.

Would she do it anyway? absolutely.

And so the young Darth had waited till sunset when perhaps the gentle soul would return, where Kaila would be waiting exactly as she was now, having levitated herself into the room from outside.

Her force signature had been concealed thanks to Quinn's teachings, reduced in perception to a fraction of the grave tide it had since become. To look upon her in the force right now was as if a bird or an insect stood nearby, blissfully ignorant of the sentients all around.

It gave her some reprieve and time to think of all the things she would say to Ala.

"Hello, Ala." "This isn't what it looks like." "You're in danger, Ala" it all sounded wrong, ominous at best and alarming at worst.

And as her golden eyes darted toward a sound, Kaila knew her time to prepare had run out.

​

 

[Ala Quin]

The day had been full in every way that mattered.

It began at first light with a sparring session alongside Balun Dashiell — her newest Padawan. She was still surprised by how quickly she’d come to enjoy his company. He was thoughtful, steady, and had the kind of dry wit that snuck up on you. She found herself smiling more around him than she expected.

Later, she shared a quiet hour of meditation with Seth Denko , guiding him through breath and stillness. His trust in her—raw and still forming—was humbling. Over lunch, Ala wandered the gardens with Isla Reingard , whose questions had turned from the Force to friendship to dresses in a heartbeat. Ala had answered each with equal enthusiasm. She was beginning to adore the girl like a doting aunt might, completely and without condition.

The afternoon passed with Michael Angellus , whose natural strength often ran ahead of his focus. But he tried. He tried so hard, and Ala never stopped seeing the good in him. A passing exchange with Lorn Reingard at day's end had threatened to shake her—it was always the way with him. Kind, distant, as if she were still something broken he didn’t quite know how to handle.

Dinner in the mess had washed that melancholy away. The Padawans had begged for stories, and she'd given them tales of her towering adopted brother Caltin Vanagor — of his solemn face and secret soft heart. The room had echoed with laughter, and Ala’s voice had risen with it. This was her life now. She was healing. She was whole—at least, enough to breathe freely.

And then she opened the door to her quarters.

And saw her.

The shadows cast by the sunset fell long across the room, but Ala didn’t need the light to recognize the shape in the window. Her breath caught. Her knees weakened.

Something inside her shattered on instinct.

Her voice came out small. Raw. A whisper cradled in grief.

“Why now? Why is it when I’ve finally started to feel like I can stand again…?”

| Kaila Irons |​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Body glove
Tag: Ala Quin

Familiar golden eyes squeezed shut, sparing her their corrupted glow a moment longer.

"...I know. I'm sorry..."

She pushed her head back against the wall, taking a shallow breath. This was already so much harder than she thought it would be. But alas she had so much explaining to do, and every second of silence was another second of danger. To Ala, to her if the Jedi decided to call the guards, and yet she'd fought the instinct to avoid this place all the same.

The young Sith balled her fist, smothering the moisture from her eye, and finally willed herself to look at Ala.

When Kaila turned her head it was slow, strained.

The last rays of red sunlight caught bacta patches lining one side of her face, jagged marks that had just missed her eye and lip by centimeters crept out from beneath them. They matched similar markings along her leg where the body glove had torn or been sheared by a medic to treat her wounds, each still red, tender, fresh.

And yet the pain in her expression was all for Ala.

"Listen," she winced, shifting her weight to speak with the Jedi.

"I found something, and I couldn't stay away, not when it could endanger you."

"Believe me, I wanted to." Kaila tried to chuckle, to focus on anything but regret, yet it drowned in her throat.

"Bu I thought I owed you this much at least."

​

 

[Ala Quin]

She didn’t breathe at first. Couldn’t. The sight of Kaila there—against the last gasp of Naboo’s sunset—pulled all the air from her lungs like a blow. For a single, aching second, Ala was frozen in place, soul caught between memory and reality.

Then—Ala's eyes flared, hand reaching instinctively for the saber at her waist, protective instinct surging. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, voice rough, a half-step into fight or flight. “The Order—Isla’s just down the hall—what if someone—”

But the words faltered as her gaze caught the wounds. The bacta patches. The fresh scars. The bandaged leg. The defensive stance melted. Her hand dropped. All that fire collapsed inward, swallowed by something softer—rawer.

Worry.

“Maker, Kaila…” she breathed, stepping closer before she even realized she’d moved. “What did you do to yourself?”

The air between them trembled. She reached out, fingers just brushing the space between them, ready to mend, to soothe, to pour her light into the cracks she could see. But she stopped. Hovered. Not touching. Not daring.

She didn’t know if that would be welcome anymore. Her hand hovered in the space like a question.

Ala's brows knit, and her eyes searched Kaila’s face, earnest and shining with something too big to name.

“I don’t care if you wanted to stay away,” she said softly, “You didn’t. You’re here. And you’re hurt. So talk to me. Just… talk to me. Let me heal you.”

| Kaila Irons |​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Body glove
Tag: Ala Quin

"Do not draw a saber on me. ever." warned Kaila coldly soon as she saw a hand move.

"The outcome would destroy us both."

But Ala relented, and Kaila released a breath she'd not even realized she was holding. And the closer Ala came, the more apparent it would become that the Sith had come unarmed. She was far from defenseless even without a blade, but the gesture had been made.

“I don’t care if you wanted to stay away,” she said softly, “You didn’t. You’re here. And you’re hurt. So talk to me. Just… talk to me. Let me heal you.”

Kaila squeezed her eyes shut, and turned away.

Perhaps she'd misjudged the Jedi, it would not be a first. But she also knew that if she let Ala touch her now, the princess would have... opinions about it. She suspected Quinn may already be feeling her emotional distress even in this moment through their bond in the force.

But so too would she be hurt if her knight went untended.

She nodded slowly, and turned so that Ala may heal her wounded side.

The young Darth had allowed a battlefield medic to do the bare minimum it seemed, extract shrapnel, clean jagged cuts, secure them in bandages. Only the most necessary, least time consuming effort, lest it keep her from warning Ala in a timely manner.

"Grenade." she finally answered.

"Diarchy tried to lay claim to Serenno in old imperial space. It devolved into trench warfare, grenades became a staple."

Kaila paused, not wishing to linger on the subject. She wanted to tell Ala 'it's good to see you' like a normal person for once, but... It was true, and it simultaneously wasn't. It was complicated, and so painfully simple.

"Are you uhm... you settling in well?"

She finally allowed her glowing eyes to rest upon her.

​

 

[Ala Quin]

She should have said something. Something professional, or strong, or Shirayan. But Ala’s fingers moved before her words could find form.

They hovered over Kaila’s side for a moment—breath caught, heart pounding—then gently came to rest against her skin.

The Force flowed. Immediately. Effortlessly. Not like a tool, not like an act of will. It poured from her—life for life, light for shadow. She felt it leave her in strands of gold and warmth, as though it had been waiting all this time to be given.

Her mind flinched at every memory the contact stirred. Nights in together. Laughter under a blanket. The curve of Kaila’s shoulder under her hand. Ala shook her head, forcing the past into the corners where it belonged. This wasn’t about what had been.

This was about now.

“You wouldn’t believe how full my days are here,” she whispered as her hand traced gently across an angry wound. Flesh trembled, then slowly began to knit itself closed beneath her palm. “Balun trains in the morning—he’s… clever. Thoughtful. I like him.” Her voice cracked on that last word, and she kept her eyes down.

“Then there’s Seth, and Michael—he tries so hard. And Isla, what a treasure that little one is.” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “She walks with me in the gardens. She’s—growing so fast.”

She lingered a second too long on Kaila’s leg, the skin already beginning to close beneath her hand. She pulled her touch back with visible hesitation, not because she didn’t want to stay—but because she wanted to too much.

When she moved to Kaila’s face, her fingers slowed.

Golden eyes met hers. And for a breath—just one—Ala forgot how to breathe. So much hung between them. So much left unsaid.

She closed her eyes, and her hand rose to rest gently along Kaila’s jaw. Warmth bloomed again, brighter now. Deeper. But before she let herself fall too far into memory, she asked the question that had been sitting like stone in her chest. “Are you still happy?” she asked softly, almost afraid to hear the answer.

| Kaila Irons |​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Body glove
Tag: Ala Quin

She swallowed at Ala's touch.

Her muscles tensed, yet the pain was soothed. She knew it should have been Quinn who took it away, that she should have used it to push her forward, back to her princess. That she should been stronger. Better she be scolded for not tending her wounds than risk hurting the woman she loved.

Still she afforded the Jedi a faint curl of her lip, just a little thing in the corner, even through the guilt.

It sounded as though Ala was happy here. Maybe she didn't forgive her yet, not fully, but she would not begrudge the Jedi her recovery.

And then she reached for her face.

Their eyes met, a breath passed, and she tore her eyes away just as quickly.

“Are you still happy?” she asked softly, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Kaila hesitated for a moment.

She thought about her fight with Kirie , how it had complicated life under that roof she was only able to share with her lovers part time. She recalled the cosmically scaled struggle her sister was facing, how hopeless it felt at times.

But she also remembered Woostri, the promises exchanged while painting one another's faces for war.

The overwhelming joy in her heart when they returned safely from Ukatis.

The chocolates she planned to bring home, and the necklace of Serenno silver she'd gift to Quinn.

Kaila smiled briefly, but genuinely.

"Yes." she said breathily.

Her lips pursed in realization that she'd become distracted. And that Ala had her by the jaw. Whether the Jedi had finished healing her or not, Kaila reached her ritually blackened fingers, taking gentle hold of her hand.

Quinn's promise ring was cold against both their skin.

"Which is why I need to go back soon."

She carefully pushed Ala's hand away, and turned to look out the window again.

"I only came to warn you," she reminded herself "About someone I fought on Serenno."

"Someone who..."

Gods, she thought, sighing at the sky. How was she going to tell her?

"Who wore your face."

​

 

[Ala Quin]

She should’ve been glad.

That Kaila was happy. That she had found something—someone—that gave her strength, and warmth, and a future. Ala should’ve been happy for her.

But her heart… broke all over again.

Not with anger. Not even jealousy. But with the sharp ache of knowing that this meant that Kaila had gone further down the path Ala hand longed to deliver her from.

And the ring.

Her breath caught when Kaila’s fingers touched hers—when the promise ring brushed her skin. Cold. Final. Ala tried not to stare at it, but it felt like it was burning a hole in her memory already. Something sacred she had no right to mourn.

And yet.

And yet.

Her hand reached out instinctively when Kaila turned away, fingertips brushing her forearm. The contact was barely there, but it held all of her.

“Kaila… what do you mean?” she asked, voice trembling with a thread of hope and dread. “Wore my face? Was it—was it a vision? A dream? Or—” she swallowed, “—did someone actually look like me?”

Her mind spun, trying to piece together what she couldn’t quite grasp. A shape forming in the dark.

She looked at her. Really looked at her. The way the fading light touched the lines of her face. The curve of her mouth. The distant way she watched the horizon—as if she belonged to it now.

Ala’s hand stayed on her arm, even though she knew she should let go. Even though the longer she stayed near Kaila, the more the old ache returned like a tide.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye,” she whispered, not even realizing the words had slipped from her lips.

And somewhere deep inside, she was already bracing for it.

| Kaila Irons |​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Body glove
Tag: Ala Quin

Kaila tried to ignore her touch. to focus on what was important.

"I mean she..." her lips tried to form words faster than she could think of them.

"I don't know if it was cloning, or bloodline, but she was identical."

"Enough for me to hesitate." she murmured, touching the half healed scar on her cheek.

"And it nearly killed me."

Just admitting this caused the young Darth to fold her arms close, rubbing at them. Her face didn't show it, just that distant stare again. But maybe that was all anyone so close to her as Ala needed to see that something was wrong.

"But she didn't act like you... so full of pride and rage and hate... so very... Sith."

She glanced back at Ala, rusted-gold brows a little higher than before.

Kaila had to wonder if that would have been the Jedi's fate, had they continued any longer.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye,” she whispered, not even realizing the words had slipped from her lips.

Her eyes were slowly squeezed shut.

"...I know..." she choked.

But as the tear she'd been holding back finally spilt, and her lips twisted, so too did she remember how all this began. Sorrow. pain. and Leven Jeyd's death. She had left a hole in Kaila's heart which the Jedi readily filled, and then readily emptied all the same.

"Neither was I." she smiled bitterly.

"But I didn't get e a choice, Ala."

"...you just... you just left me..."

Kaila whimpered, a sound so small, pathetic and unbecoming of a warrior such as she. The fire in her eye dimmed when she looked at Ala as if she were looking at one she mourned.

But she smiled, the way someone who'd realized a cruel prank was being played would.

"I rebelled against Carnifex, for you. Almost dragged the entire empire into a civil war, for you, because I knew if I let Him control me, he'd force me to do something you could not forgive."

She tried to laugh, she really did. But it just stuck in her throat.

"And then you walked out of my life."

The young sith shook her head, smile dying like the sun behind.

Her voice was strained, choked for air though she was fighting to speak regardless.

"And I know why you did it. But I'm not going to apologize that I did not live up to who you wanted me to be. I tried, to throw away everything I knew, to be someone I never could."

"I want to forgive you, for leaving me when I had no one else."

"But I just—"

She turned away, unable to finish.

​

 

[Ala Quin]

Ala's gaze dropped, unable—unwilling—to meet Kaila’s for just a moment longer. It was all too much. Too near. Her shoulders lowered. Her hand, once stretched toward her, fell gently to her side.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice hollowed by restraint. “For coming. For warning me.”

A breath caught in her throat.

“I know what it cost you… to be here.” Her eyes flicked up—just briefly—to Kaila’s. “And I’ll honor that. I promise.”

There was more in those words than even Ala could name. More in what Kaila hadn’t said than in what she had.

The ache inside her twisted. She could feel it blooming in the hollow place that once felt like home. That part of her that still waited—still wanted—still dreamed of something that could never be.

Not for her. Not as she was.

“If things were different,” she murmured, “I… I might have made different choices too.”

But that was all she said. Because anything more would betray them both. And with one final glance, Ala stepped back—not because she wanted distance, but because she had no right to remain close. Not anymore.

| Kaila Irons |​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Body glove
Tag: Ala Quin

Kaila moved quickly to blot out the tears with her sleeve.

She was thanking her. Ala was thanking her after all that. Kaila hated it more than if she had just cursed her out, spat venom back, something, anything to justify her anger more than leaving already had.

But that wasn't Ala. It never had been.

And it made Kaila feel like a monster for putting that on her.

“I know what it cost you… to be here.” Her eyes flicked up—just briefly—to Kaila’s. “And I’ll honor that. I promise.”

Kaila looked over her broad shoulders, eyes a blur of reddened sclera and corrupted gold. She knew it looked sickly, and pathetic. But she was torn between hating it because it made her look so inhuman, or for revealing just how human she remained.

And then she watched her step away all over again.

The young Darth was unsure what she'd wanted, let alone expected. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Just get in, warn her, and get back out before she lost control of emotions again.

This was all wrong.

"...I'm sorry Ala..." she whined.

"I don't mean to hurt you."

But somewhere deep down, Kaila knew it was a half truth. She wanted to hurt anything that could hurt her, and worse. Losing Ala had just been one of the many wounds, and she lashed out. It was easy to forget, just for a moment, that Ala was so much more than her pain.

She stood, realizing only then what a remarkable job the Jedi had done fixing her leg.

"...I really did want to be that person for you..."

Kaila put one foot in the windowsill, gripping the wall as she prepared to fly herself out.

"And I do hope, sincerely, that you find them here. That you can be happy."

​

 

[Ala Quin]

She didn’t try to stop her. There were a thousand things Ala might’ve said. Pleas. Questions. Memories. But none of them would change anything. Not now. Not anymore.

So she simply stood there, watching Kaila find the window—watching her prepare to vanish again, like a dream she once had and never wanted to wake from.

“Then I’ll be happy for you,” Ala said softly, “Even if I’m not the one who gets to see it.”

It was the closest she could come to saying it. What still lived in her chest no matter how long it had been. What time and duty and distance had never managed to break. “You’ve chosen your path. And I respect that.” Even if she didn't like it. Her eyes lingered.

“I just hope the stars are kind to you.” She didn’t say goodbye. Couldn’t.

Ala turned away from the window—and whispered to the Force itself, “Please… let us never meet with blades drawn.”

| Kaila Irons |​