Chapter Text
“Okay, bag—check. Datapad—check. Do I—oh kark, did I forget—” Her fingers fumble with the strap of her bag before she spots the aural resonator tucked into the side pocket. “Never mind. Thank the kriffing stars. Anyway. Starlight prism, harmonic stabilizer, chrono tuner, arcane probe—yup, check, check, check, check!”
Soleil’s nose remains buried in her way-too-oversized bag as she hurries through the bustling hangar. She’s late—overslept again—and stars, from what she’s heard of him, General Skywalker will never let her hear the end of this. When her checklist is done, she lifts her gaze, heart dropping.
Her silver eyes dart around the hangar, taking in the chaos. Ships roar overhead, their engines vibrating through the durasteel floor. Troopers in weathered armor weave through the crowd like clockwork, while droids zip past, chirping in binary. It’s overwhelming, and for a moment, she freezes.
Deep breath. One step at a time. You’ve got this, Sol. You’ve survived worse. Much, much worse. Just—kriffing move your feet.
She adjusts her grip on the strap of her back, her silver hair catching the artificial light, reflecting off her brown skin as she surveys her surroundings. This is it. The place she’s supposed to report to. But why in all the stars in the galaxy would Anakin Skywalker of all people ask her to come here?
Before she can dwell too long on the question, a feminine voice cuts through the noise. “Master, is that her?”
Soleil looks up just as the crowd parts, revealing two Jedi standing by a gunship. Anakin Skywalker—his infamous name makes her palms sweat—flashes her a boyish smile. Beside him, his padawan practically bounces on her feet, lekku twitching with excitement. And there, at their side, a clone trooper with striking blue markings watches her with an unreadable expression. He stands stiffly at attention, as if waiting for something to strike.
“Yes, this is her. Soleil Galyreos. Arcane extraordinaire,” Skywalker smiles warmly at Soleil.
“AH!” Ahsoka exclaims excitedly. “I’m so excited! I’ve heard so much about you! Is it true you can like, disarm magical kriff with your voice? What’s that like? Does it hurt? Oh! Is it like the Force? I don’t know much about magical kriff but—”
“Ahsoka,” Anakin shakes his head but his padawan keeps going.
“—we run into so much magical stuff I’m starting to think we’re cursed! The Force doesn’t always work on it, either, the last time I tried it blew up in Rex’s face. I mean he said it was okay but I still felt bad and then your name popped up in the holonet as a magical archivist and—”
Soleil starts laughing at Ahsoka’s overexcited questions and holds up her hands. “Whoa, whoa, one question at a time! Yes, I can disarm and subdue magical kriff, as you said, but no, it doesn’t hurt—it’s just…well, you know like when you use the Force a lot and you get tired? Kind of like that. The humming makes it stronger, but not always.”
Anakin steps forward, offering a gloved hand. “Thanks for coming, Soleil. Obi-Wan suggested your name when I talked about all the magical kriff we keep encountering. Our men are getting pretty fed up, like Ahsoka said. Hope the journey wasn’t too bad.”
Sol smiles, inclining her head respectfully—she’s supposed to bow to Jedi, right? The only one she’s ever met was Obi-Wan after he…well, saved her and he stopped her mid-bow but who the kriff knows. She doesn’t want to kark this up right away. “Easy as pie. Good to meet you, General Skywalker.”
Anakin shakes his head. “Anakin is fine. And—”
“Oh, I’m Ahsoka!” his padawan exclaims, blue-and-white lekku twitching with excitement. She waves animatedly.
“Pleased to meet you, Ahsoka. Anakin,” Soleil beams. “Glad to be here. The ship over was boring. Read through all my articles and studied up on some more obscure magical binding relics. Did you know—”
She cuts herself off before she can start rambling, a faint heat warming the tips of her pointed ears. Anakin smirks, as if Obi-Wan had warned him of her tendency to ramble.
“Well, hope you rested up, because things are about to get a lot less boring. Welcome to the 501st, Sol.”
At once, Sol’s silver eyes go wider than dinner plates. She blinks once, processing his words, and then a second time as it actually sinks in. “Wait. Wait—hang on, I thought you had something for me to archive. You—you want me here? In the middle of a war?”
“Why else would I call you all the way to Coruscant?” Anakin teases, though there’s a seriousness beneath his words. “We’ve been running into... complications. Magical complications. Obi-Wan said you’re the best there is at dealing with that kind of thing.”
Alathea opens her mouth to protest, but before she can get a word out, the trooper at Anakin’s side steps forward. The familiar blue paint of the 501st catches the light, highlighting the markings on his helmet tucked under his arm. To her surprise, unlike most of the troopers she’s encountered, his hair is blond, shorn short. Careful brown eyes apprise her as he moves with a soldier’s precision, every step deliberate.
“Captain Rex,” Anakin claps a hand on the trooper’s shoulder. He doesn’t flinch under the sudden weight. “This is Soleil Galyreos. She’ll be working with you to handle all the…annoying threats you encounter. Sol, he’s your guide…and your commanding officer, I guess.”
Rex’s calm, steady gaze flicks to Soleil. If he’s upset by her presence, he hides it well—at least in his expression. “Ma’am,” he says with a respectful nod, though his tone is clipped, uncomfortable.
Soleil offers him a shy smile, suddenly feeing very small under his intense scrutiny. “It’s nice to meet you, Captain Rex.”
She holds out her hand. The captain hesitates for a moment before taking it, shaking it once. His armor presses uncomfortably against her palm. Suddenly, the urge to start rambling bubbles up in Soleil’s chest, but she fights it back.
Rex nods again, his posture rigid as he clips his helmet to his belt. “I’ll escort you to the ship. We’ve got your quarters ready.”
“Oh! That’s kind of you,” Sol exclaims, her hands fidgeting with the single silver bangle around her wrist.
It chimes noisily as she lifts her hand to adjust the strap of her back. Rex gestures for her to follow him, and as they set off through the bustling hangar, she glances back at the Jedi, her silver eyes wide. Ahsoka waves eagerly and Anakin just smirks like he knows something she doesn’t.
Soleil falls into step beside Rex, her bag swinging heavily at her side. Her head buzzes with the weight of Anakin’s words. Working with the 501st? Living on a kriffing ship? What in the stars am I doing here?
The walk to the ship is quiet and Soleil can feel the weight of Rex’s silence pressing down on her. She’s never been good with silence. Only the rhythmic sound of his boots on the durasteel floor fills the air around them.
Stars, I’m in over my head. Why would Skywalker—no, Anakin—even think I belong here? She bites the inside of her cheek, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag like a lifeline. Don’t ramble. Don’t kark this up. Just—smile. Be professional. You can figure the rest out later.
Eventually, she can’t take it anymore and she blurts out, “I—I’m sorry. I don’t know why Anakin—er, General Skywalker—thought it was a good idea to bring me here. I mean, I’m not a soldier and I’m certainly not trained for, well, this, though if you do encounter several magical artifacts, maybe it makes sense but I’m just—well, I wanted you to know that I really feel out of my depth and…kriff, I’m rambling.”
Rex glances at her, his expression softening ever so slightly. “To be honest, ma’am, I’m not sure it’s a good idea either. Warzones aren’t safe places for civilians.”
Her heart sinks at his words, even though his tone is polite. Well, kriff, she’d hoped he’d reassure her. She drops her gaze, spinning the single bracelet around her wrist. “Right. I’ll stay out of the way.”
Rex doesn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightens, and he taps the helmet hanging from his utility belt, weighing her words as he leads her to her quarters.
The gleaming door opens with a hiss, revealing a utilitarian room—a simple bed against the wall, a viewport of the space beyond, a desk and a small cabinet for her belongings. She sets her bag down on the bed. Before she can turn around to thank him, the door slides shut.
Soleil lets out a breath, plopping down onto the bed, her head spinning. Well, kriff. Maybe coming here was a mistake after all.