Private Once Again

[Lady Falentra]

That thing she crafted shortly after their split had been in her for months without issue. The small piece of technology replicated a part of a bond, allowing the constant to be nullified while she was near it. Falentra had embedded it into her skin at the back of her neck near the CTOii outlet. Behind all that tentacles, it was an area that was hard for anyone to reach, and damage it. But somehow, it had chipped away one day after an intense fight.

The bond had reconnected almost instantly, but akin to the flicker of a faulty lamp. She felt his presence again some where in the galaxy, so distinct but yet fleeting. The device was still active, yet with it damaged, it would not function properly. It still nagged at her.

While she dreaded to, Falentra had to fix this somehow, and she had not the resources to repair the device. There was only one place to get it. The Sith knight hopped on her ship to his location, thankfully that was not in Joiol. She had put a tracker on the child, knowing where it was constantly, but she had not went to see it since that day that she handed it over to the Dashiell patriarch. It would only put the child in danger if her foes knew about it - if her boyfriend knew about it.

It took a short while to locate the starship parked on the shipyard. Falentra snuck in effortlessly, cloaking herself in the shadows and the force, making her way to the ship controls and cockpit area, Falentra would wait.

 

[Balun Dashiell]

Dashiell Retrofit Orbital Foundry.
Ship Manufacturing Yards, Kesh Orbit.

When he wasn't at home within the grand halls of the Dashiell Estate on Joiol or off chasing adventure across the stars, Balun Dashiell could often be found aboard the Orbital Foundry—a massive industrial station suspended above Kesh, the ancestral homeworld of Kesh Rimma Droid works and Salvage. Though Balun had been raised on Coruscant by the New Jedi Order after his mother abandoned him at birth, he had come to regard Kesh as his own homeworld by extension. A few years ago, that truth had been a bitter pill to swallow, a wound that lingered in the shadows of his success. But now, standing as the head of his own thriving company, with the guidance of his father and the unwavering encouragement of his brother, Balun found himself at peace with the path life had carved for him.

One might expect that the arrival of an infant in his life would have thrown everything into chaos—and to some extent, it had. Yet, rather than faltering, Balun had taken to fatherhood with a quiet determination, intent on breaking the cycle of abandonment that had shaped his own beginnings. Kellan's mother had left him in Judah's hands, knowing full well that Balun's father would ensure the child's existence would not remain a secret. And so, here he was, the tiny form of his son nestled securely against his chest in a harness, swaddled in warmth and the steady rhythm of his father's heartbeat, as Balun strode through the Foundry's corridors.

Dashiell Retrofit™ was thriving, its latest commission an ambitious undertaking: the complete manufacturing of Lazerian IV's naval fleet. Lazerian-Class Heavy Cruisers, Praetor-Class Frigates, Echelon-Class Corvettes, and Sentinel-Class Starfighters—all major capital investments that had propelled his company further into galactic prominence. Not to mention the continued production of CDL Prestige Class Luxury Liners for Crown Dream Lines. What had started as a subsidiary under Dashiell Incorporated was quickly proving itself a formidable force in the industry. If things continued on this trajectory, Kellan Dashiell 's financial future would be secured for a lifetime—a legacy Balun was already laying the foundations for, just as Judah had done for him.

But for now, it was time to return to The Nomad, his Commercial Heavy Freighter—a ship that had become an extension of himself, much like the tools he worked with. Once a derelict drifting in space, its previous owner frozen in death, the vessel had been an easy salvage. Balun had claimed her as his own, repurposing the freighter's well-equipped workshop to suit his needs. Perhaps, in another life, he and the former pilot could have been friends, but in this one, the best he could do was put the ship to good use. Now registered under Dashiell Retrofit™, The Nomad was not just a tool of his trade but an asset to the company, one that often accompanied him on his personal projects.

With Kellan still fast asleep against him, Balun stepped onto the loading ramp, sealing the ship behind him before making his way through the central corridor toward the cockpit. He ran a hand over the control panel, his voice low and steady as he murmured, "We'd best get moving, eh, buddy? I still need to lock in this deal with Locke and Key… no pun intended." His words were met with nothing but the soft, even breaths of his son, who had long since grown accustomed to the hum of starships and the cadence of his father's voice.

Balun smiled to himself as he powered up the ship. The stars were waiting.

Lady Falentra

 

[Lady Falentra]

Cloaked in the force, she watched as Balun entered with the child in his arms, oblivious to her presence. The child had grown since she had handed him over. Balun handled the child with such care... the way he talked to it. It was a creature of innocence and fragility, untainted by the horrors of the world. Unlike herself. This child wasn't the only one she found in the labs that was of hers, but unlike this one, the other child would not know such peace. Peace was a lie after all.

As the engines rumbled, Falentra dropped her cloak. "Balun." She started. "Its been a while." It had been a long time since they last seen each other - since the night of the fight. Falentra had changed, her aura darker than ever, and her tentacles now trailed against the floor, slithering around her. He would hate what she had become, but Falentra had long embraced the dark.

 

[Balun Dashiell]

"Balun." She started. "Its been a while."

Balun came to an abrupt halt, his back still turned to Lady Falentra, though his instincts sharpened, his gaze immediately dropping to the small bundle nestled against his chest. Kellan. His first priority. His son's safety came before anything else. A slow, measured breath filled Balun's lungs as he fought to suppress the emotions surging within him, the kind that threatened to boil over in the presence of her. He knew all too well that infants—especially those sensitive to the Force—could absorb the emotions of those around them, feeding off their parents' turmoil like a wick to an open flame.

Not now. Not in front of him.

"Give me a moment," he said, his voice steady despite the storm within. He turned his head just enough to catch Falentra in his peripheral vision—just a glimpse, nothing more. He didn't wait for her reply. Instead, he strode forward, purposeful and unwavering, making his way to the cockpit.

There, he unclipped the harness from his waist, carefully shifting Kellan from his chest to the small makeshift bed he had fashioned within a side compartment. The boy barely stirred, his tiny features peaceful in sleep, blissfully unaware of the tension coiling through the air.

Balun leaned in, brushing his fingertips lightly over his son's blanket. "I'll be back, I promise," he whispered. Then, straightening, he activated the cockpit's security system. The blast door sealed shut with a sharp hiss, locking Kellan safely inside. Only then did Balun turn back to face the specter from his past.

When he returned to the corridor, he no longer came empty-handed. His lightsaber rested firmly in his grasp, its weight familiar, its purpose clear. He halted a few meters away from Falentra, his stance unreadable, measured. He did not ignite the weapon—but its presence alone was enough to make his message clear.

For a long moment, he simply studied her.

Once, he had loved her. Once, she had been Nouqai Veil—the woman who had walked beside him, shared in his dreams, battles, and moments of quiet reprieve. But the woman before him now was someone else entirely. That much had been made clear when he learned of her decision to leave their son behind on Joiol, choosing, instead, to further entrench herself in the Sith.

Nouqai Veil was gone.

Lady Falentra stood in her place.

"Why now?" Balun's voice cut through the silence like a blade, cold and direct. His fingers flexed slightly around his weapon, but otherwise, he did not move. His gaze, however, remained locked onto her, unrelenting as he searched for the truth buried beneath her presence.

"What are you doing here?"

 

[Lady Falentra]

Instead of turning to face her, Balun excused himself, making his way to the cockpit to secure the child in before returning, this time the hilt of his lightsaber in his hand. They had both changed - both grown since their time together. She had hurt him then, left without a word after their argument, only to come back unannounced. Balun certainly had a plethora of questions especially after she had left him a surprise at the hands of Judah.

She could feel the force tugging, now at such proximity, trying to link back the ends of a bond that she had tampered with by creating the device at the back of her neck. If only she could erase their bond permanently, things would be so much easier for her, she would never had to return.

Likely too casually for his liking, Falentra would find a seat. "Don't kid yourself, Bale, I've kicked your ass countless times during our spars." She glanced at the saber in his hand. Having already gained her title, her combat prowess would be well over his. "No weapons here." She raised her clawed hands, showing she was unarmed, but the sithspawn was a weapon herself, not that she meant any harm now.

"I'm not here for the child." She reassured. "I require something else from you." She began.

"I made a device to severe the bond. It's been damaged recently so I need to make another before this stops working." Falentra explained, cutting to the chase. "I'll be on my way after."

 

[Balun Dashiell]

"I always gave back as good as I got," Balun shot back, his voice edged with defiance as he gestured toward her with the unlit hilt of his lightsaber. "And that was long before I fought my way across the battlefields of the Tingel Arm." His words carried weight, a sharp reminder that the boy she had once sparred with in the Coruscant Temple had long since hardened into something more.

But despite the venom between them, Balun had still expected her to come for Kellan. That had been his first suspicion. Yet, when Lady Falentra —not Nouqai, not the woman he had once known—claimed otherwise, the truth she revealed struck a different chord. She had severed their Force bond.

The realization settled over him like a cold weight. So that was why he had been unable to sense her for so long. He had searched for her after she went silent, after she ignored his messages. He had reached for her in the Force—just as he had come to her aid countless times before, with the Lightsworn and beyond. But this time, there had been nothing. No lingering presence, no whisper of her across the stars. And now he knew why.

"If you've done it before, you can do it again," Balun said, his voice low with suspicion. His eyes narrowed. "What do you want from me?"

She had done this without his knowledge, without his consent. And now, after all this time, she was here—asking something of him. That meant one thing: the first time, she had taken something from him without his awareness. What else had she stolen?

Once, that thought would have shaken him. Back when he had trusted her more than anyone in the galaxy, back when she had been the only one who truly understood him. Before. But now? Now, nothing about her could surprise him.

There were a thousand things he could demand from her, a thousand questions he could ask, but standing there, looking at her, all he felt was the rising heat of anger—the need to get her as far away from their son as possible. She had made her choice. And despite the passage of time, Balun was nowhere near ready to forgive her for it.

"You left our son on my doorstep," he growled, his voice thick with betrayal. "You didn't even tell me you were pregnant. And now you're here, asking me to make your life easier?" His grip on the hilt of his saber tightened, his knuckles white against the metal.

His eyes locked onto hers, burning with hurt, with rage, with the years of silence she had left between them.

"You've got some goddamn nerve, you know that?"

 

[Lady Falentra]

"Not much. Just your blood - to extract the midichlorians. And some shards of your kyber crystal." She answered. After their last fight, when he had been asleep, she had taken those. She hadn't thought the device would come to fruition, but the alchemist had made it work eventually after much trial and error. Then there was no longer the nagging light she felt through the bond - through Balun - no more restraint to be able to reach her potential within the darkside.

Balun was upset, understandably so. On the other hand, her expression remained unnervingly cool. Falentra showed little sympathy for the sentiments he harboured against her. She had simply done what was necessary. Sacrifice was necessary for a sith to reach their potential.

"Hm, you look hot when you're angry." She remarked with a smirk on her lips, while seemingly amused at the situation at hand, she was masking the emotions she truly felt. The shame and guilt. She had never seen him so mad before, and such emotions was part of the darkness present in everyone, no matter how miniscule. And his glare conveyed a dark whirlwhind of emotions. She noticed his grip tighten against the weapon, was he upset enough to really fight her?

Perhaps she deserved it. Balun deserved better.

Our son. She had not known the gender of the child, hadn't bothered to check when she swung by the Dashiell's. He deserved some insight on what had happened. Her life was far from easy now, the life of a sith never was. Falentra sighed, the vexation evident. "I didn't know." She admitted. "Shortly after I left, I spent a few months in a lab. I barely got out of there, I didn't know what was taken from me until I returned. I found them... growing in an incubation chamber." She didn't want to get into the details of what she had experienced in that place, but it was far from pleasant.

"I went to joiol to find Judah right after. Its dangerous with me, with what I do on the daily. I make lots of enemies."

 

[Balun Dashiell]

"Shortly after I left, I spent a few months in a lab. I barely got out of there, I didn't know what was taken from me until I returned. I found them... growing in an incubation chamber."

There was so much in Lady Falentra 's words that Balun found wrong, so much that ignited the fire already raging within him. But then—one word, a single syllable, cut through his anger like a knife.

Them.

The hilt in his hand lowered ever so slightly, his focus snapping onto her with newfound intensity. His head tilted, as if trying to decipher whether he had misheard her, as if grasping for clarity in the storm of emotions she had already unleashed.

"Them?" He repeated the word aloud, his voice quieter now but no less sharp. It wasn't a demand—yet. It was a search for confirmation. For truth.

Had she meant more than one?

A brother or sister for Kellan. Another child. His child.

His breath caught in his throat for a fleeting second before he forced it out, his posture stiffening as he took a single step toward her. "What do you mean, there's more than one?" This time, his voice was firmer, edged with something raw, something almost desperate. He wanted to close the space between them, to force the answers from her—but he stopped himself.

Because he was angry. And he could feel it.

The heat of it twisted in his chest, an inferno threatening to break loose, and Balun knew all too well where that path led. He had spent his youth learning the dangers of unchecked emotion, knowing how easily it could consume a Force user who did not live by the strict disciplines of the Jedi. He was not a Jedi. He did not meditate for hours in serene detachment, did not wall himself away from the pull of his passions. No, he felt everything.

And standing before him was the one person who reminded him just how easy it was to lose himself.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe.

"You chose your place with the Sith," Balun said at last, his voice lower now, colder. "You should have known it would backfire." His grip tightened on the hilt in his hand. "They fight amongst themselves. They purge weakness. They destroy what they don't understand. What did you expect?!"

Did she really think she could come here, stand before him, and ask for his sympathy? After everything?

Her capture, her transformation into a Sithspawn—it was the inevitable consequence of the path she had chosen. The Sith took. They manipulated, they experimented, they destroyed. They were cannibals of power, devouring their own the moment they sensed weakness.

But even as fury burned in his veins, Balun knew it wasn't only her fault.

He had loved her once. Had encouraged her to find her place, to follow the path that called to her heart. And she had. But it wasn't her return to the Sith that had broken him.

It was the promise.

A promise made long ago—one she had shattered the moment she took a life in cold blood. That was the turning point. The moment the foundation beneath them crumbled. The moment she chose something else over him.

Loving a Sith had always been a risk. And it was always destined to end one way.

Catastrophically.

Balun's breath was unsteady as he lifted his gaze back to her, the weight of the revelation still pressing down on him.

"What of the other child?" His voice was quieter now, but no less forceful. His eyes locked onto hers, burning with unrelenting demand.

"Tell me."

 

[Lady Falentra]

A flicker of frustration crossed her features at her slip up. There were two she had acquired from the shadow laboratory, one now remained tucked in her base in crait, waiting to be collected by the xenomorph she owed. The revelation had also prodded at Balun, now more upset than ever, she could feel the tension, the anger he shone. It was perfect chaos, a path that led to the darkside if only he honed it.

Yet he calmed down, if only slightly to her evident dismay. Yet Falentra could play her games, the darkside was a power everyone should embrace. "Do you know... just how many I've slaughtered to get to your child?" Her voice laced in venom, her glare hardening. "I am sith, but I am not with them. All sith are for themselves and what they believe in. It didn't backfire, I am stronger than I ever was."

"The other child does not belong to you. I've questioned myself after that day. Why did I even leave you with this one when I could have him to myself? I realised, the only weakness that remains with me is this bond - you - our past." Now Falentra stood. She came here to fix the device, but perhaps it was easier to remove the source itself.

 

[Balun Dashiell]

"Do you know... just how many I've slaughtered to get to your child?" Her voice laced in venom, her glare hardening. "I am sith, but I am not with them. All sith are for themselves and what they believe in. It didn't backfire, I am stronger than I ever was."

"The other child does not belong to you. I've questioned myself after that day. Why did I even leave you with this one when I could have him to myself? I realised, the only weakness that remains with me is this bond - you - our past."

Balun Dashiell saw it as plainly as the stars beyond the viewport—Nouqai Veil was gone. In her place stood Lady Falentra .

His grip tightened around the hilt in his hand as he regarded her, his expression set in cold resolve.

"Strength is not the word I would use to describe this person you've become," he said, his voice edged with something sharp, something final.

She rose to her feet, but Balun had already turned toward the ship's hull. With a deliberate motion, he slammed his palm against the release panel, triggering the loading ramp to lower. The metal groaned as it extended, leading down to the durasteel floor of the hangar below. A silent command.

A demand.

Leave.

But even if she stepped off his ship, she would still be aboard his Orbital Foundry. And that was a problem.

Hundreds of personnel worked here, men and women with families, all under the employ of Dashiell Retrofit™. His responsibility. If she would not go willingly, she would be escorted out—or forced out, should she give him no choice.

Balun turned back to her, his jaw tightening. "It's clear to me now—Nouqai Veil is dead. You are what remains. Falentra." He let her name settle between them, cold and distant, devoid of the affection it once held. "I suppose that makes things easier for me. When my son asks about his mother, I'll tell him the truth—that she's gone. That she was killed by the person who stands before me now."

He lifted the hilt of his lightsaber slightly, gesturing toward the open ramp with pointed finality.

Get off my ship.

And yet, despite his outward certainty, the revelation of a second child gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. A ghost of a question lingered, unspoken but undeniable. Had there been someone else? Before him? After him? During? The possibilities clawed at his mind, each more damning than the last.

But he refused to entertain them.

There was only one person in this galaxy who mattered now.

Kellan.

"You made your choice," Balun said, steel settling into his tone. His stance was unwavering, his decision absolute. "And now I will hold you to it."

His eyes locked onto hers, finality written in the hard lines of his expression.

"The boy stays with me."

 

[Lady Falentra]

His hand slammed against the panel, the doors opening. "Not even a goodbye? How rude." Falentra feigned disbelief with a pout on her face.

Now hearing him say her name was almost odd. He never said it, always sticking with her old name rather than the one bestowed on to her by her old sith master. "Took you so long to finally get the name right." She laughed. Nouqai Veil was a name of the past, dead to her as it was to Balun. "The child is mine, if he grows to be anything like me, he would go seeking for answers... or better yet, vengeance."

Not once did Balun loosen his grip on the weapon in his hand, constantly on the edge of caution since she appeared. He gestured to the exit for her to leave. Falentra sighed, shaking her head. "Its not the child I came here for. But, it would be absolutely terrible for me to leave a child in the hands of a dead man." Still, she had not required what she had came here for. There were always options and the sith would choose the path of violence.

In a single moment, the force had warped around, and with a single movement of her hand to the side she'd throw Balun out through tumbling down the ramp. Falentra dashed with the speed of light towards him, her clawed fingers curled as she slashed at his arm wielding the lightsaber.

 

[Balun Dashiell]

"Its not the child I came here for. But, it would be absolutely terrible for me to leave a child in the hands of a dead man."

Balun's protective instincts had not wavered for a moment since Lady Falentra had revealed herself, and as her veiled threat darkened the space between them, he felt the Force surge to her call. He braced himself, knowing what was to come.

The air around him compressed—an invisible grip seized his body, wrenching him from his feet. Before he could counter, the telekinetic force hurled him backward, flinging him out of the landing bay doors.

But Balun Dashiell was no stranger to battle.

His body twisted midair, instincts honed by years of combat guiding his movements. Arms tucked close, he rolled into a somersault, his right hand snapping out toward the loading ramp. Fingers caught the edge, muscles tensing as he used the momentum to spring himself forward. With a powerful push, he propelled himself toward the hangar bay floor, this time landing in a low crouch—knees bent, boots skidding across the durasteel in a controlled slide.

The snap-hiss of his lightsaber echoed through the hangar, its amber blade igniting in a flash of brilliance.

He was ready.

Balun had no doubt that she would press her advantage—hesitation was not the way of the Sith. And so, before she could follow through with another strike, he made his move.

With a burst of power, he launched himself into the air, twisting into a whirling 180-degree somersault above her. It was the fluid, acrobatic aggression of Ataru—a form he had learned long ago.

Her attack sliced through empty space beneath him.

His own counter was swift, precise—a downward sweep of his lightsaber as he passed over her, aiming to take her head from her shoulders in one decisive stroke.

Should the strike miss, Balun would land smoothly behind her, knees bending to absorb the impact, blade held firm. Their positions would be reversed now—him standing, poised for the next strike, while she would be carried forward by her own momentum.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then the battle would begin in earnest.

 

[Lady Falentra]

While she was fast, he matched her speed, leaping into the air propelled by the force. In a display of agility, he moved above her. Time seemed to slow, the adrenaline now pumping in her veins as she watched the incoming strike, the blade swinging with the momentum, aiming a lethal slash for her head. The boy had grown bold. If he were to take a life, it made sense, by twisted fate that she would be his first.

In a quarter of a second, Falentra wielded the force once again as she phased a pace to the left, the execution of the teleportation was almost unnoticeable as the groaning blade breezing past the side of her head. While he was still in mid air, one of her tentacles lashed out like a whip, wrapping itself around his arm that weilded the weapon.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, she barely allowed him to regain his footing befoer pulling him forcefully towards her. Falentra caught him by the throat, her clawed hand vice around, crushing. She stood by the long tentacles, now taller than him, she raised him up. All the while corrupting, feeding him the darkside energy that radiated from her being straight from her palm. "You should embrace it all," She whispered sinsterly, lips twisting into a smile of pure malice. "That rage. Use it, hone it." She encouraged.

 

[Balun Dashiell]

Balun's strike missed by the barest fraction, his amber blade slicing through the air so close that he could almost feel the heat of its proximity to her skin. He landed light on his feet, but before he could recover, a sudden tightening sensation wrapped around his arm—one of her tendrils had caught him.

His gaze snapped toward the sinuous appendage—scaled, powerful, an extension of her Sithspawn nature. Before he could react, she wrenched him off his feet, pulling him toward her with inhuman strength.

His saber arm was locked in place, the hilt trapped in the crushing grip of her prehensile limb, and as his body was drawn forward, her hand found his throat. Vice-like. Merciless.

The air in his lungs vanished in an instant.

His instincts screamed at him—words would be useless, and time was against him. His left hand was still free. He drove his fist down, hard, hammering the inner joint of her elbow. Pain would force the limb to buckle, even for a fraction of a second—just enough for him to drag in a ragged, desperate breath.

As his body dropped, his right hand released his lightsaber. The weapon spun through the air—untouched, falling.

Balun twisted sharply at the waist, reaching behind his back with his free hand. His fingers closed around the hilt just as it came into range, catching it in a reversed grip.

The movement was fluid. Practiced.

With a swift pivot back toward Lady Falentra , he drove the blade forward, sweeping across her midsection with lethal intent.

Close. Too close.

If she did not release him, she would be cut in two.