Promises are made to be broken. Deals are made to be kept.
[The Mandalorian Season 1-2]
I do not own the Mandalorian or any of the Star Wars Universe characters/settings. I own Alora and her unique story.
Prequel to Promises and Deals --> Truth...
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They do not deserve the mercy others would give them. They may just be following orders, but Alora doesn't care. They wanted to hurt the Child—no one hurts Alora's Child. A grin spreads over her face as the stormtroopers in front of her collide into each other, their shouts of pain music to hear ears even as Moff Gideon enters with a frown on his face.
"Set to stun—"
"Wait."
Alora sneers at Moff Gideon before letting the troopers go, not watching them catch their breath. "I can do this all day, Gideon."
She pants in front of him, her hands still unbound. In the few days since being abducted, Alora has yet to stop fighting, to sleep and eat or recharge. They can never get close enough to restrain her, though they managed to get her to her cell somehow.
Her muscles and mind still ache from the seeing stone, but she refuses to think back to that time—to the Child's face, Luke's promise, and Mando's shout. She can't afford to think of them right now, not with the Empire tirelessly trying to take her blood.
"Oh, I know." Gideon steps further into the room with a smirk that makes Alora's skin crawl. "You've gotten very good at that, but I can tell it makes you tired. Why don't you rest, High General? It will make everything so much easier for both of us."
"Bite me."
He chuckles, shaking his head. "You know, it looks like you could use a nice, long nap—"
Alora jumps forward, kicking Gideon into one of the four guards standing in the cell. Before the others can stun her, she waves her hand and says, "You will not stop me."
As she walks out of the cell, hearing the troopers repeat her order with a dazed tone, she can't find the strength to smile as she knocks out the two guards outside, taking their blasters to take care of the troopers now approaching from down the hall. Each of her shots hit with deadly accuracy as she turns the corner, happily getting as far away from the Moff as possible.
She begins to race down the grey walls, picking up more blasters as she goes, following the big deep tug in her heart. Her saber is on this ship somewhere—she knows it. If she can get it, great; if she cannot, she's trained enough to know what she has to do. Alora will not be a prisoner of the Empire anymore.
For years, they dictated her every move. Every action she took was because of them. Every training exercise, every strategy meeting, every battle was because of them. No more. She will not act because of the Empire anymore. Alora acts for herself and only herself.
She refuses to give another moment of her escape over to finding her saber. Feeling the weight of the past few days on her shoulders as exhaustion settles in her soul, Alora fights her way to the hanger, red lights blasting along with an alarm. The large hanger stands heavily guarded by troopers, but Alora easily takes care of them before hopping into a ship only to find the controls completely busted.
