Author's Note: If you have any tips writing tips, please feel free to comment.

As always, I continue to hope that I am doing justice to the spirit of Star Wars as well the respective authors and characters from which I borrow. Again, I gratefully accept constructive criticism as a means to help me develop my skills further as a writer.

There are no Mandalorian (Mando'a) words in this chapter. 

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Chapter 72

I've failed you, Sir. The last two men of my squad have died in surgery, and I have been diagnosed as being disabled and unfit for service. Having a destroyed thigh means I'm useless now, and spending the last of my years behind a desk is no way for a soldier to live. I hope my replacement serves you far better than I have.

Excerpt from TK-2857's suicide note

Tochin Moon III, 91 Days after Order 66

Gillard slowly turned around in the center of the bright room. The walls were layered in soft, pastel textures of yellow and peach. The window was wrapped in a fabric that resembled something like creamy lace with small flower designs embroidered in the material.

 A similar fabric was draped over the four wooden posters of the bed, connecting to a canopy top above the mattress. False flowers and vines were wrapped around the corners of the bedposts, making the bed seem more organic than it was.

Gillard finally pulled his eyes away from the bed, noting that it looked like something out of a fantasy story, yet it was every bit the kind of thing he should have expected to see in her room.

Moving his attention elsewhere, Gillard started to study every possession and every trinket. He had no idea what he had anticipated to see upon entering Arlesse's personal bedchamber, and at this point, he was certain anything would have been a surprise. 

He didn't even know why he was here, but he could only conclude that it had something to do with finding closure.

Just like everything else in his existence that had slipped through his fingers, the life he thought he could fabricate had also been ripped from his grasp before he could truly hold it. 

He had lost the people who would have helped him achieve his idea of a content existence. First, it was the personal squad that had been assigned as his guardians, then TK-2857 had taken his own life yesterday, and still, the hardest person for him to accept as gone was Arlesse.

Clenching his right hand into a fist, Gillard flinched at the way the skin of his arm pinched, and he was thrown back into the memories of how his idealistic dream had ended so abruptly.

 He still didn't understand what had happened in that hangar and how a couple of soldiers had so easily taken out his entire squad of sixteen men. 

And for as much as he was angered over that loss, his thoughts constantly saw Arlesse's lifeless body lying on the floor. Everything in that moment had been taken from him, and his only consolation was that he had finally admitted to Arlesse how he had found affection for a woman like her when she had done nothing kind for him in return.

Through his tunic sleeve, Gillard touched gently upon the bacta patch and reminded himself that healing was still taking place beneath as the bacta slowly treated the blaster wound. 

And, in a way, he came to understand that it was a metaphor for his own emotional healing because he had fought so hard against living the life his parents had shared, that he didn't even notice he was forcing those same arrangements onto those around him. 

It wasn't until this morning that he saw just how full-circle his life had grown and how everything he swore he would never do was everything he had done instead.

Letting go of his fist and relaxing his fingers now, Gillard brought them towards the small novel shelf in what had been the princess' bedroom. He ran his fingers over the bindings on the flimsies, certain that she, herself, had done this very motion numerous times before. 

His eyes read the titles, absorbing bits and pieces about who Arlesse Psach had been. While the names of the stories were different, each of those flimsi novels was the same story told in different ways with different characters. Every one of those tales offered an adventure and a romance that brought the reader into the escapism of reality.

Sliding one of the novels free from its placement, Gillard opened the plain-bound flimsi and thumbed his fingers through the delicate pages that contained nothing but words. He studied how the novel was pristine and well-kept, a sign that Arlesse had treasured her belongings, and he understood why nearly instantly. 

These stories were her freedom, the keys that opened the unknown world to her. Even though they were fantasies and fables, they gave her imagination and her mind the chance to roam free and leave behind the political world that she had been brought within.

Placing the novel back into its proper place on the shelf, Gillard found his eyes diverted to a colorful child's flimsi novel. It was set on a bedside table, and it was obvious that the collection of stories had seen better days. Compared to the pristine care of the other novels, Gillard found it odd how this one had been put through a war, yet it remained proudly on display.

Slowly opening the cover that had seen far too many repairs, the binding cracked with the movement as though vocalizing its pain for being called upon to be read once again. Gillard flipped through each page slowly, taking notice to the detailed drawings of the characters for each story.

 Certain pages had the corners folded down, and after a few moments, Gillard saw a pattern emerge. Those stories contained the fables that offered an adventure in bravery and chivalry as well as a subtle romance where the beautiful maiden had found her love.

Closing the novel, Gillard focused now on the small holo portraits that were scattered over Arlesse's dressers. There was one with the princess as a child looking no older than five years old as her father proudly held her on his lap. 

They were both dressed in the formal attire that royals were known for wearing during special occasions, and Arlesse's yellow dress was adorned with the kind of lace girls that age tends to wear. 

Looking deeper into the portrait, Gillard realized that the occasion was a day where they had celebrated her birth, as lavish frosting from a specially decorated cake had been caught in the corner of the scene.

Bringing his eyes to the child version of Arlesse, Gillard saw that she hadn't changed much throughout the years. In the portrait, her dark hair was neatly pulled back from her face in a yellow ribbon that matched her dress, and the curls of her hair had apparently been tight her entire life. Her blue eyes seemed large on her young face, and her cheeks were noticeably rounder.

The other holos on the shelf were similar in nature. Some of them contained Arlesse and her cousin, Janelle, in various stages of their lives. 

While looking through the portraits, Gillard could very easily see how Arlesse had begun to gradually slide into the background throughout the poses that she and her cousin shared. In the holos where they were both young children, they sat side by side and truly were equals. 

However, as Janelle's exquisite and unique beauty began to blossom, Arlesse slid further behind her, lowering her eyes from the portrait-taker's lens as though she was finding herself unworthy of being so close to her cousin's beauty.

Gillard understood even more now who Arlesse Psach was and why she had refused to turn away from her clone, the one man who had probably never been exposed to Janelle Napith and probably never had the opportunity to compare Arlesse to her cousin.

"She was a distraction to you. You know that, Gillard."

The moff spun quickly at the sound of his most trusted advisor's voice, the man who had taken on a father's role for him after he had developed his own network of political contacts on Coruscant. 

Leaning on a wooden cane, the advisor stood in the doorway looking much younger than his sixty-two years appeared. His thick, gray hair matched the beard and moustache on his unwrinkled face and while he was a shorter man, he held himself with great dignity. 

The advisor's brown eyes were filled with a strange pity while they glanced between Gillard and the multitude of trinkets that were scattered throughout the bedchamber.

"How did you know I was here, Omul?"

The older man waved a hand as though it was nothing and took a step into what was once Princess Arlesse's bedroom. "It would be obvious that a man who had just lost everything would take a step backward into the past one last time."

Gillard turned his attention to a more recent portrait of Arlesse and her father. While there was still a noticeable sadness in her eyes, there was something warm between father and daughter, and Gillard remembered what she had told him about Vollan Psach being a parent, the way a parent is supposed to be.

"You fell in love with an idea, Son," Omul told him, his cane thumping on the floor as he moved a couple of steps closer and brought his eyes to some of the portraits that had grasped the moff's attention.

Gillard turned to him, clearly confused.

"The union between a moff and a princess sounded enchanting. Most people flock to the idea of a fairy tale wedding. You would have offered the galaxy the union of a high-ranked Imperial moff to a young and shy princess. People would have wanted to see the royal splendor and all the insanity that goes with it. Royal weddings are a reason for the common citizens to re-evaluate their own small lives and dream of that elusive happy ending everyone wants but no one ever finds. We both know that marrying her would have brought in a different kind of respect for you."

"Fantasizing for the public wasn't my intention, Omul. I feared how some of those Imperials would have shredded her innocence. Arlesse wasn't raised politically..."

"Which is why some of us advised you to have her removed from her position..."

"So she could die alone in a galaxy where she had no knowledge of how to survive?" Gillard interrupted. He briefly tried to imagine Arlesse living in a small dwelling amongst the same common people who knew so little about her. He wondered if they would have helped her or if they would have turned their backs on her because of who she was. 

He tried to imagine what would have happened to her if she couldn't or maybe wouldn't have helped them if they wanted her to rebel with them. He tried to envision her becoming part of the working class, trying to make ends meet when her knowledge had been so limited. 

Then, he forced himself to push aside his anger and grief for what he had lost. Arlesse was now spared from ever having to suffer in a commoner's life and would never have to fear to be an enemy from both her own people and an Empire that had thrown her away.

Omul put a gentle hand on the moff's shoulder, bringing him back from the thoughts that he could see were brewing beneath his young friend's eyes. "She died anyway, Gillard. Her death would have come regardless. Arlesse Psach was comforted and sheltered. She never would have made an appropriate companion, especially not to an Imperial Moff who was expected to enforce Emperor Palpatine's severe policies."

Gillard pulled away from his advisor again and touched his hand to one of the false flowers that adorned the canopy around the bed.

"Gillard, I know you don't believe me, but the princess would have been your political downfall. She disrupted your ability to see clearly and be a proper leader. Without her around to be a distraction, you can now take charge of this world the way you have been expected to do."

The moff glanced again at one of the portraits, not seeing a political threat but a young and uncertain woman who just wanted to live a life without complications.

He voiced his question softly, concern etched in his words. "Did anyone ever see her as anything other than a Tochinite and a threat to the Empire?"

Omul leaned on his cane, studying the young moff and spoke as though the answer were obvious. "Her father and her cousin tried to lead a rebellion..."

"And acted completely outside of Arlesse's knowledge," Gillard defended feeling his frustration starting anew. "They purposefully kept Arlesse unaware of their plans to ensure she would not be judged wrongly."

Omul sighed softly and then decided on a different tactic. He could see that he was approaching the subject from the wrong angle. Politically the princess was no threat, but emotionally, she would have unwound the moff's experience and training. "Arlesse never would have loved you, Gillard, and I know you know that."

Gillard turned abruptly to his advisor, but before he could speak Omul continued.

"Do you remember the day that you showed me her comlink before interrogating her? When we discussed if those messages contained threats, I told you that those messages were far more dangerous than any political coup. I warned you that there was a purity in her correspondence, and you were advised then to let her go."

"And, I was going to," Gillard admitted, "Until I saw the way Arlesse defended that clone in my interrogation. She was willing to risk her freedom and her safety for him, and I don't know why, but I wanted someone to feel like that for me. I had never met anyone like her before. Her honesty was so pure, so real."

"And, you thought that she could absolve you of the lies that created who you are," Omul concluded softly.

"I would have loved her..."

"No, Son," Omul said, shaking his head, "You loved the fantasy of being loved by her. If you loved her, you wouldn't have competed with a clone for her."

Gillard just stared silently, trying to understand what exactly his advisor was attempting to say.

"It wouldn't have mattered if she loved a clone or a man of her own world," Omul continued, "She was committed with her heart in a bond that might not have been legal but was very real. You always were a threat to that, no matter how benevolent your intentions appeared. Look around here, and you will see that she believed with an innocence that doesn't exist in the rest of the galaxy."

Omul set his hand again on the moff's shoulder, offering silent condolences for the opportunities that were not meant to be his. After a moment, he spoke gently, reminding Gillard that he still had work to do. "Come now. It's time for you to honor your dead soldiers and close the matter of Arlesse's untimely demise. Then, your new captain awaits his orders for himself and his squad. And, tonight we have to address the Senate. The princess is gone, and you have to sign off the execution order for the three guardians sitting in the prison. You must be the moff that Palpatine expects you to be or you won't be here much longer."

Gillard took a heavy breath and one long, last look throughout the room. He knew he could never undo what had been done, but if he wanted Palpatine to remain distant he would have to convince the Senate that all rebellions on Tochin had been extinguished. 

He had to make it perfectly clear that although this latest attempt had resulted in casualties, there was no longer a desire from the people to rise up again. 

His life of lies had come back to claim him once more, and fabricating the story about Arlesse inadvertently being caught in a hail of blaster fire from the former palace guardians was another lie that was concocted to keep the Tochinite people subdued. 

He only hoped that they would believe the falsehoods about how she had been horribly disfigured when she had been killed and that it had been best to have her cremated upon being returned to the palace.

Following Omul into the hallway, Gillard turned and sealed the door behind him. He set the lock on the room so that no one would ever enter it again and everything inside it would remain preserved. He wanted something pristine left of the only woman who had never lied to him, and he would forbid anyone from ever tainting her memory.

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