Prequel to Promises and Deals
ACT 1: The Age of Jedi [Episode I-II]
ACT 2: The Nameless Child [Episode III-IV]
ACT 3: The Age of Rebellion [Episode V-VI]
The lineage of Alora Naftiri in a way not seen before. This is the story of her life from befor...
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Lorn Naftiri's heart had long been a simple chunk of ice. It started the day he lost his brother and twin, his Republic, his way of life. His heart had always burned with love and affection, with duty and responsibility, but when Mace had fallen and Loraana struck down, Lorn no longer had room for such things.
The only light keeping the cold at bay was Aristeia. She has been gone for years now.
When she died, bedridden and pale, the light disappeared. He thought it might come back against his will. He thought something might strike through the ice and remind him what it felt like to love.
He thought the girl might bring him peace.
As he watches her receive her tattoos as an official promotion from a simple soldier to a High General and the only recognized aid to Princess Leia, his heart remains plastered with ice. After close to fifteen years, not once has he felt the warmth he thought he would staring into his sister's eyes. Instead, all he sees is a corpse.
The girl twitches every few seconds, her gaze locked on the high ceiling as the ink stains her skin. Earlier in the day, he had knighted her through an official Alderaanian ceremony only attended by high-ranking officials and the royal family. He had seen the way she grinned with the princess when she thought he wasn't looking. He had seen the small amount of fear in her eyes as she formally accepted her position.
Even as she lies before him now, he can feel her fears embracing him with snow, trapping him beneath the frozen tundra of his heart. She remains strong on the outside as he taught her, but underneath, she is the same terrified little girl who cowered behind her father's leg on instinct all those years ago.
As the artist backs away to pack up and leave, the girl slowly sits up and presses a hand to her inked chest, wincing at the sensation. Lorn steps forward, pressing a palm to her back as he looks at the other tattoo—the one that would seem like nothing to the naked eye but mean everything to the Rebellion. It had been finished just before the artist started on her chest, but most of the swelling is already fading with redness plaguing her skin.
With a small nod, he moves in front of her with a heavy sigh, dragging his gaze up and down her face. She stares back at him without an ounce of emotion, her lips pursed into a thin line.
Lorn hums as he clenches his jaw. "Congratulations, Alora. You are officially a High General of the Royal Guard and the Rebellion."
The girl holds her breath.
He knows what he should say. They have been training for this day since the moment Lorn agreed to take her in. His heart should be aflame with pride, but it simply feels cold. "You will make a fine High General."
She gulps as her gaze flickers away from his eyes. "I won't fail you." Her voice sounds hollow, so different from his sister's. She would be jumping for joy if she were still alive.
