Chapter Text
Trilla didn’t know what had happened after she had been knocked out in her last fight with the ever frustrating padawan, Cal Kestis, but when she woke, curled up in a tight ball, she sensed that another force user was nearby. Was she back at her “home”? Had her last fight for the holocron been just a dream?
The dark room in which she lay rumbled. Either that’s an aquatic creature running into the Inquisitorium, Trilla thought, or I’m on a ship.
Her thoughts felt fuzzy as she slowly stretched out her legs and got to her feet. The metal floor vibrated at her toes, and stopped with a dull thud that resonated throughout the room. Her body swayed at the movement and she stretched her arms out to balance herself.
Okay, I’m definitely on a ship.
Her yellow eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she was just able to make out her surroundings. A small cot rested behind her, connected to the wall and able to retract into it. A small, leafy plant rested in the corner among storage containers. Ever so slowly, she finally noticed a dim line of light on the floor, and heard quiet voices on the other side.
Trilla took a deep, hesitant breath and walked towards the door, but as she moved she felt a horrible, sharp pain in her back. Trilla gasped, halting in her tracks. Wincing at her wound, she shakily brought up her hands and reached behind her. Her muscles sore and straining, she felt gauze strips that had been wrapped around her chest.
She didn’t know that she had been holding in her breath until the pain in her arms, shoulders, and back had become too unbearable for her. She let out a sigh and gritted her teeth. C’mon, Second Sister. You’ve killed and killed and have been through far greater pain than this. Get. Yourself. Together!
Trilla forced herself to move towards the door, her leaden feet sliding along the floor. She wanted to sleep so badly but if she had to fight out of this she’d do it nonetheless.
Even with her brave face put on, the blinding light of the ship made her stumble in disarray, falling to her knees. She reached for her lightsaber but couldn’t find it anywhere on her body. Crap. She frantically looked in the dark room but couldn’t see it anywhere.
A throat cleared in front of her as Trilla blinked hard, her eyes adjusting to the brightness. Trilla hesitantly turned around, and there- Oh, Maker - was her former master, Cere Junda.
It couldn’t have really been her- could it? Trilla swore she was winning in her battle against Cal. How could she not? The dark side was within her, giving her strength and more victories among all others. So why was she here? With Cere?
Trilla’s eyes scanned around her master, trying to get a grasp on what was going on. She smelled the remnants of a well cooked meal, and saw a small droid peer at her from behind Cere’s feet, letting out an inquiring boop. Hey- wasn’t that the droid that was always on Cal’s back? She searched for him, and saw that he was sitting on a seat- suffering from a wound just like how she is. A woman with markings on her skin was next to him, helping him up so that he may stand. A lateron walked in to clean up the plates left at the table but stopped to turn and look, sensing the seriousness of the situation. In fact, all of them were looking at her. Cere looked at Trilla straight in the eyes, as if to steady her.
To be honest, the only thing keeping Trilla where she was, was the shock of seeing her former master- the Jedi who was to weak to resist her torture, the Jedi who gave her padawan and the younlings away. She began to tense up, and the wounds on her back didn’t help her any.
“Trilla,” Cere said to her, trying to settle her down.
She could only shake her head, trying to hold back the tears that have been held inside her for years.
“Trilla, please. It’s okay. You are safe now. Do you understand?” Cere cupped a hand underneath her chin, giving her padawan a slight, warm and friendly smile.
Safe? Safe? Master Junda would never understand what her padawan had suffered through all these years. Nightmare after nightmare, dream after dream. Memory after memory. Trilla could never, never forget the day she and the younglings had been caught by the growing Empire. The cries of those who had resisted being cut short by blasters, her shouts towards those who lived to stay by her side. None of them could handle the torture devices used against them, so they had perished. Trilla’s blame was on Cere. She had betrayed them and killed the innocent. Not Darth Vader, not the Emperor, not the Empire. Master Junda was the culprit here. Nonetheless, even through all her hate and anger, Trilla was weakened by her wounds, both physical and emotional.
She sobbed and fell to the ground, her dark hair curtaining her face. Trilla was thankful for its cover- she couldn’t be seen vulnerable like this.
Cere moved closer, as if to hold her close, but thought better of it and decided not to push. “Trilla.” She hesitated. “When you’re ready, we'll have a meal set out for you, and then we’ll talk. Okay?”
When Trilla did not respond, Cere walked away to help the lateron with the dishes to leave her at peace.
Trilla’s sobs slowly died down to sniffles and she heard a voice say, “C’mon Merrin, let’s give her some space.” Two pairs of feet shuffled by her and retreated into a room further into the ship.
She looked up and blinked slowly, wiping her eyes on her sleeves. It’s going to be okay. Just ask her how you got here and leave as soon as you can.
Trilla slowly stood, holding onto the wall for support, her back searing in pain. Trilla groaned in effort and stood crookedly on her weak legs. Is every part of me weak? Trilla asked herself as she hobbled over to the seating. She plopped down into a chair at the table and rested her head onto the surface, stretching her back as lightly as possible.
She distinctly remembered her back getting sliced by a blue lightsaber and her falling down. Maybe she hit her head and that was how she had passed out, but Trilla was definitely going to get Cal for that anyways. He had been a sharp stick in her side for far to long, but-
“Feeling comfortable?” Cere asked her, handing her a bowl of hot broth and a roll of bread. “Sorry, it's not much.” She added once she saw Trilla eyeing the meal. “We’re beginning to run a bit short on food now, especially with added members to Greez and mine’s crew. We’ll have to stock up sometime soon.”
It was the most food Trilla would’ve had had in days, but she held herself back. Better not make her master think she wanted to be there. “Where’s my lightsaber?” She asked, steel in her voice even though tears still shone in her eyes.
“I have it. I’ll give it to you when you’re ready.”
Trilla scoffed. “As if you ever knew I was ready for anything.”
Cere looked hurt but quickly changed back to her normal state. “I meant when you’re able to move freely again. You’ve got to heal your wound properly.”
Trilla scowled. “How did I get here? Why am I here?”
“Because you needed saving , Trilla. When Cal had beaten you, we- I wanted to bring you in, to make sure you were going to be okay. Darth Vader was chasing us down and we had to get out of there, fast. Trilla, if he had gotten to you, you would’ve been dead. I couldn’t leave you like that, not again.” Cere said solemnly, looking her padawan in the eyes. She reached out a hand to grab onto her wrist, but Trilla pulled her arms back with a sharp intake of breath.
She was on the verge of tears again. “Thank you.” Trilla forced out through her teeth. “But I’ll be leaving as soon as I heal. Do you know that?”
Cere looked heavily saddened by this, but nodded her head. “Yes. Yes I do.”
“Good. Now can you leave me be? Please.”
Once her nightmare left her, Trilla gorged herself on her meal, dipping her bread into the thin broth and thinking. How will I even get out of this mess? Am I just at the beginning again? I don’t want to be. I don’t ever want to be.