[[sorry about not writing last week, someone i loved died so i had to help with setting things up..]]
Three Years Later
Liora Serenno – Age 5
The sunlight streaming through the tall windows of the study made the floor glow like warm gold, catching dust motes that danced like tiny stars. I liked mornings here best. It always felt quiet. Right now, though, I wasn't reading.
I was sitting cross-legged on the thick carpet, my hands resting lightly on my knees, eyes half-closed, not in meditation exactly, but something close. My fingers tingled. Floating around me were three objects: a thick quill, a carved paperweight the shape of a Nerf, and a solid bronze candlestick that definitely weighed more than I thought.
Sweat beaded at my temple, but I kept my breathing slow. The Force flowed through everything in the room, the shelves, the polished desk, the woven rugs, the sunlight, and I tried to feel it, not push it. That part was always the hardest.
Don't grab it, I reminded myself. Let it move through you. The candlestick trembled. I focused harder. It steadied… wobbled… then began to tilt. I opened one eye and winced. It was slipping. Before I could release it gently, the door to the study hissed open.
"Liora—"
Startled, I lost my grip. The candlestick dropped fast. But it never hit the floor. It froze midair, caught in an invisible hold just centimeters above the rug. I turned my head to watch my father step fully into the study, his brow arched and cloak sweeping behind him as the object drifted gently into his outstretched hand.
"I see you've made excellent use of your morning," he said, setting the candlestick on the nearby table with a quiet thunk. I tried to look innocent. "I wasn't doing anything dangerous."
"Of course not," he said dryly, but there was no anger in his voice. In fact… he looked pleased. He crossed the room and knelt beside me, his gloved hand brushing a stray curl away from my face. "You lifted that bronze weight with ease. That's not an insignificant feat at your age."
I beamed. "It's getting easier… sometimes."
He tilted his head, studying me in that way he always did when he was both impressed and thinking ten steps ahead. "Soon, you'll begin your saber training. Just the basics. As well as your force training."
My eyes widened. "Really?"
"Yes. You'll be six in a few months. And the nobility won't wait forever to see the future of House Serenno."
I groaned softly and flopped back onto the rug. "Do I have to meet them?"
"You don't have to like them," he said, rising with a quiet sigh. "But you must be seen. It's the price of your name."
I folded my arms, still lying on the floor. "I'd rather lift rocks with the Force."
That earned a rare smile from him. "That can be arranged."
I sat up slowly, brushing off my skirt. "I've been trying not to force it. The Force, I mean." I looked down at my hands. "You told me to let it flow. But it's really hard not to make it do what I want."
He nodded. "Mastery requires patience. Power gained too quickly is often power misused."
I looked up at him. "I just want to be more like you." His expression shifted, not surprised, exactly. "My cool dad," I added, almost shyly.
He blinked. Then chuckled. Not a laugh, he rarely laughed, but something warm and rare in his voice. "Is that what I am?"
"Obviously," I said, smiling like it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy.
He turned away to the window, the light catching the silver in his beard. "Well then," he said, almost to himself, "I suppose I'd better live up to the title."
Age 6
The air in the Grand Hall was warm with perfume and charged with quiet expectancy. Light from a thousand glimmering chandeliers danced across polished black marble, casting reflections like starlight on a still lake. The music, formal, old, Serennian, floated above the buzz of conversation as nobles gathered along the upper balconies and down the long, colonnaded floor.
I stood at the top of the grand staircase, hand resting lightly in the crook of my father's arm. My heart pounded. I had studied too hard to feel this nervous, practiced every line and gesture until it became muscle memory. But still, I was nervous.
I took a breath, steadying myself as I looked down at the gathered crowd. My dress was custom-made, deep Grey with gold trim, embroidered by hand with traditional Mirialan motifs across the sleeves and shoulders. My hair had been pulled back and braided with fine silver cords. A small circlet sat atop my brow, not a crown, but something close. My face bore no tattoos yet, but one day, when I was older and had earned them, I would add the markings of my people, at least that's what Auntie said would happen.
Today was the first step toward that future. Father stood beside me. Tall, regal, every inch the Count of Serenno. When I'd first seen him in his formal attire, long cloak of sable trimmed with crimson, lightsaber discreetly hidden beneath his belt, I had barely concealed a grin. He looked nice.
"Are you ready?" he asked quietly, his voice deep and composed.
I nodded. "Yes, Father." He gave a short nod, then extended his hand. Together, we descended the stairs. A herald stepped forward, voice booming across the chamber.
"Presenting her ladyship, Liora of House Serenno, daughter of Count Dooku, rightful heir by declaration and name."
The applause was polite, measured, and noble. Not thunderous, not cold. A few raised brows, yes, but no open sneers. As expected. The Serennian aristocracy knew better than to offend him. We moved down the central aisle, slowly, with grace. I kept my spine straight and my chin level. My hands folded lightly at my waist. I met gazes where I could, offering the smallest nods. Some smiled, Auntie Jenza among them, near the front, wearing violet silk and eyes full of pride. Others were harder to read. One woman from House Malraux murmured to her neighbor behind a fan. A man from House Vane narrowed his eyes.
My gaze swept the chamber again, slow, careful, and found him seated near the front row. A tall man, robed in senatorial crimson, his hair silvering at the temples, face kind in that deliberate, unreadable way politicians cultivate.
Senator Palpatine. What was he doing here? He hadn't been on any guest list. I knew because I'd helped go over them with Jenza the week before. My father hadn't mentioned him. And yet there he sat, smiling pleasantly at nothing, eyes half-lidded… watching everything.
My stomach turned. I knew that face. That mask. Sidious. He shouldn't have been here. Even Father's, I felt the shift in him, subtle as a breeze catching a curtain. He hadn't expected this either. We reached the ceremonial dais and paused. I curtsied, deep, practiced, and perfect.
Father stepped forward. "My friends. Today, I present my daughter, not by blood, but by bond. Not by tradition, but by right. She bears the name Serenno. That is all that should matter."
A pause. Some murmurs. But no objections. He turned slightly and gestured to me. "Liora has spent her early years in study, in recovery, and growth. She carries the future of this House. And should anyone question her place here…" His voice sharpened just slightly, "...they may take it up with me."
A ripple of nervous laughter spread through the room. And then the formal greetings began. One by one, nobles approached to offer their blessings, their platitudes, and their thinly veiled assessments. I greeted them each with a sweet smile, bowed when appropriate, and thanked them politely. Never too stiff, never too familiar. Just as I had been taught.
But I never forgot who sat at the front, waiting patiently. Eventually, inevitably, it was his turn. "Senator Palpatine," Father said, his voice neutral. "I was not aware you would be attending."
Palpatine stood with a graceful nod. "A last-minute decision, I confess. The Naboo delegation had business nearby, and when I heard your daughter's introduction was scheduled… well, how could I resist such an occasion?"
Father said nothing, only inclined his head. Palpatine turned his gaze on me. "Lady Liora Serenno." He smiled. "You carry yourself quite well. One could almost forget your age."
I smiled. A small, polite thing. "Thank you, Senator."
"I hope," he continued, "that we'll see more of you in the years to come. Perhaps, one day, you'll visit Coruscant."
My throat dried. I bowed slightly. "Perhaps." He held my gaze a second longer than was proper. I did not flinch. Then he turned to my father. "She's exceptional, Count. Truly. I look forward to seeing what she becomes." Palpatine gave a pleasant chuckle and returned to his seat.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Speeches. Toasts. Performances by musicians I'd seen practicing in the gardens all week. I remained beside my father, acting as was expected, silent, calm, and composed. Palpatine had come for a reason. He wasn't the type of man to do something for nothing.
Later, when the hall had cleared and the last nobles departed in glimmering speeders. The halls were finally quiet again. The last of the nobles had left hours ago, their laughter fading behind repulsorlift engines and echoing down the stone drives. The staff had begun clearing the remains of the feast: silver trays of honey-roasted nerf, sugared meiloorun slices, and elegant cakes. The musicians had packed up their instruments, they bowed their way out.
And yet, I was still wide awake. I sat on the balcony ledge, legs swinging just a little above the garden walkway. My father stood nearby, arms crossed behind his back, his gaze fixed upward in the direction of Serenno's moon. Neither of us spoke for a while. He was giving me space, the way he always did when something lingered on my mind.
Then he glanced down, his voice calm and unhurried. "You seem to have something on your mind, little one. That's rare for you."
I offered a tired smile. "Long day."
He stepped closer, his cloak rustling behind him. "A successful day. You did well."
"Thank you, Father."
He studied me for a moment more before tilting his head. "You do know… today is still your birthday."
"I'm aware," I said with a small grin. "Six. Finally."
"Six," he repeated, as if testing the sound of it. "Old enough for saber training. And possibly gifts."
I blinked up at him. "Gifts?"
He arched an eyebrow. "Yes. You've earned one. You may ask for whatever you like."
That caught me by surprise. I hadn't expected anything beyond the ceremony. I looked back at the stars, my smile fading slightly. I hadn't meant to bring it up. Not yet. Not today. But if there was ever a time…
"…There is something," I said carefully, drawing my knees to my chest. He waited, patient as always.
"I've been having a dream," I began, even if it was a lie. "The same one. Over and over."
His expression didn't change, but I could feel his attention sharpen. "In the dream," I said slowly, "I see a woman. She's… in pain. Not from sickness. From something worse. Loneliness. Fear. It's like she's waiting for someone, but they never come. She looks out at the twin suns and—" I paused. "And cries when no one's watching."
Father's gaze narrowed. "A vision?"
I shrugged, letting my voice wobble slightly. "I don't know. It feels real."
"Where is she?"
"Tatooine."
He knew it, of course. A desert planet in the Outer Rim. Barely governed. Notorious for its criminal entrenchment and slave markets. His jaw tightened. "That is not a place for children."
"I know," I said. "But… can we go?"
His brow furrowed. "Liora, if this is about adventure—"
"It's not," I interrupted. "I don't want to fight sand monsters or fly podracers or—" I stopped, realizing how desperate I sounded. I took a breath and steadied myself. "I just… I think she's important. No, I know she is. Somehow. To someone. To the galaxy. I know it sounds strange, but I can feel it. I know she needs help."
I looked up into his eyes then. His sharp, discerning eyes. He was reading me. Trying to determine if I was imagining things. Trying to see if I was lying. But I know the best way to lie is with half-truths. He stepped away, pacing slowly along the edge of the balcony. The moonlight caught the silver in his hair.
"You're asking me," he said at last, "to take my daughter, barely six years old, to one of the most volatile systems in the Outer Rim. Because of a dream."
"Yes," I said softly.
He stopped, facing the garden. "And what do you believe you'll find there?"
I hesitated. Then, quietly: "A woman who should not be alone. Not anymore." The silence that followed was long. I let it stretch. Finally, he turned back toward me. "If I agree to this… There will be conditions."
I nodded quickly. "Of course."
"You will stay close. You will not use the Force. You will not speak to any stranger without my permission. And you will not run off chasing shadows."
"I won't," I promised.
"And if there is no woman?"
"Then… it was just a dream," I said. "And we come home."
He was quiet for a long moment. "Very well."
My heart skipped. "Really?"
"I'll make arrangements," he said, already slipping back into that careful, commanding tone. "We'll depart in three days."
"Thank you," I whispered. He walked to my side and placed a hand gently on my head. "I don't know what this is, Liora," he murmured. "But I've learned not to ignore the Force… or you."
I leaned against his side, letting the warmth of his cloak wrap around me like a shield. Down below, the wind rustled the gardens. And somewhere, in the galaxy far, far away, a woman waited under two suns.