Song: "Watto's Deal and Kids At Play" from The Phantom Menace OST

Ronderu shivered beneath the blankets in the wee hours of the morning. She sat up, let her respirator work, and stared at her bionic hands. The black metal, exposed now, looked brutal and unfeeling next to her golden flesh. She wiped sweat from her forehead and stood.

A small voice called from the entrance to the hall. "Ama?"

She walked over, bent down, and addressed the girl who should have been her daughter. "I'm not your ama, Rón."

"Scared," she said, coming to Ronderu and putting her arms around her neck. Her voice was tiny and her words not articulate, as a two-year-old's would be.

The gesture broke through her façade as she lifted Rón off the ground. "What's wrong?"

"Appa," she said.

"What about Appa?" Ronderu asked quietly, rocking the child back and forth.

Rón set her brilliant gold eyes to the ceiling. "He's gone."

"I know," Ronderu whispered, looking at the night outside. "He's trying to help you."

"Bi sanaarararar...."

"Bi sanaarai," she said slowly, nuzzling the little girl's round nose with her own. "You remember? But you're so little!"

Rón paused again. "I know," she said at last with a giggle.

"You know what time it is, youngling?"

"Night." She furrowed a thin, dark brow. "Ama's asleep."

"Yes, Ama's asleep with your little brother or sister," Ronderu replied, taking her to the kitchen.

The memory of her childhood sunk deep into her bones. Shia deserves these children. I don't.

But she wished Rón had been hers anyway.

The girl placed a soft kiss on her namesake's nose. "You're sad."

"I'm okay," she said. "You just remind me of something I want."

Rón frowned. "What?"

She took a jug out of the cabinet and poured some juice into a pot to make some tea. "I once dreamed of having a big family."

"Lots?"

A chuckle. "Yes, many babies."

"There were kids," Rón said.

"Kids here?" she asked, and the toddler nodded solemnly. "Well, what happened to them?'

"They died."

Rón said it so matter-of-factly that it took Ronderu a moment to register her response. "How many were there?"

Rón shrugged, then sat on the floor and picked her claws. "Ten. Five."

Ronderu lost hold of the stirring spoon. "Fifteen?"

Rón nodded. "More. No one saw."

Qymaen watched almost all his offspring die. That's why he went crazy. That's why he joined the Banking Clan. He couldn't bear to lose anyone else.

First me, then his wives, then his children. Even the unborn ones.

"Are you sad?" Ronderu asked the little girl, noticing for the first time how thin she was.

"Yeah," Rón said. "I want Appa."

"Did he ever play?"

"Yeah."

"Was he fun?"

Rón nodded with a small smile. "Come here," Ronderu said, bending down. Rón came immediately and settled herself in her arms. "I used to play with your appa, too. Do you want to hear some stories?"

Rón nodded. "Well," Ronderu said, "I used to sneak up on him and tickle him." She lowered her voice to a whisper and winked. "He's very ticklish. Remember that."

She leaned forward and kissed the little girl on both cheeks. Rón giggled. "Naughty."

"Perhaps," Ronderu said with a chuckle.

"He's sad. Like you." She leaned close, as if sharing a secret. "You love him."

Heat splashed into Ronderu's cheeks, and she prayed Shia would stay asleep. "I'm just worried for him, little one."

"Why?"

How does one explain to a two-year-old that her father is in mortal danger? "Some bad guys want to hurt Appa," she said.

"I'll help you," Rón said fiercely. "Fight 'em all."

Ronderu chuckled. "You're a bit young for that."

She stuck out her bottom lip. "Appa did it. He told me!"

"Not everyone can be your appa," Ronderu said gently. "I'm going to get the tea." Wiping a few tears away for this girl she was already falling in love with, she powered off the stove.

"Crying?"

"No," she said firmly, pouring the tea into the mugs. "Have some, and go back to bed."

"Snuggle?"

"Sleep next to me?" Ronderu said gently. "Of course."

✺✺✺

She rose a few hours later, adjusted the blankets around the sleeping Rón, and walked to the washroom. She stepped into the stream, removing her prison uniform, and scrubbed herself clean of the Coruscant prison grime, the sweat stuck between her scales, and the smell of Arna's house.

Her shoulders still stung from exposure to the air, and with great difficulty she cleaned sticky liquid from the pink flesh beneath her scales. The beautiful gold that Qymaen so loved would never grow back where the fire had chewed it away.

"Ronderu?" Shia's voice called from behind the washroom door.

"Don't come in!" she shouted back instinctively, recalling days from the kolkpravis with co-ed restrooms.

"I won't, silly," Shia said. "I'm laying out some clothes for you. Don't wear that filthy uniform anymore."

A lump formed in her throat. This was it—her abandoning the way of life that the Republic had forced upon her for a year. The idea of changing back into Kaleesh linens and Kaleesh clothes after living as a Mandalorian for so long....

"Thank you," she said, drawing out of the water and toweling herself. She walked into the dressing room, locked the door, and pulled on the simple outfit laid out for her.

Looking at the simplicity and yet glamor of her appearance in the mirror, she was reminded of how much she'd taken her culture for granted. She ignored the stinging sensation of the linens against her burned shoulders and stared at her uncovered cybernetic hands. No gloves had been left out for her.

She took the thick gloves that disguised her hands, giving form to them and fooling everyone into believing they were made of flesh. Then she pulled the gray boots over her feet, tied a swath of her hair up, and gazed at herself once more in the mirror.

She, Ronderu lij Kummar, was no longer a young bride-to-be. She was no longer a child, dreaming of love. She was a patriot for Kalee, one who shouldn't have survived. But she had never been one to listen to orders.

✺✺✺

Shia frowned at her gloves when she exited the refresher. "Those don't match your outfit, Ronderu. But I have some that do."

"I'm fine," she replied quickly. "I need these."

"Why? You were never as strict as the rest of us when it came to modesty before."

"Let's say what's underneath isn't very pleasant to look at. But who could resist this before?" She teased, gesturing to her small frame.

Shia rolled her eyes. "Once a tempter, always a tempter." She smiled. "I have good news."

"What is it?"

"Bent has alerted the Khanate of the Kharankhui that you turned out to be alive after all. They've asked you to appear before them to restore your status as khaneme."

A long pause. "You're....you're not—"

"I'm serious," Shia said. "Bent's going to take you to them. They're ready to hear your case and conduct an investigation to prove your identity. If they test positive—"

"I could return," Ronderu murmured. "I could be a leader again. I could serve them...."

I could see Qymaen at conclave next year. He would have to listen to me then.

Shia giggled. "Bent will be waiting outside. But you need some new gloves first."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Ronderu murmured, still in a happy daze, but Shia was already coaxing her toward her bedroom.

Shia took a pair of black gloves from her nightstand. "These will work. Put them on."

She was suspicious. "I'm not in the mood to debate this, Shia."

"Do you really think I was out to kill you?" the other woman said, crossing her arms. "Projecting much?"

Ronderu chose to ignore that comment. "Want to know why I have to wear these gloves?" She pulled off the glove to her right hand, showing her the black, skeletal hand.

Shia blanched. "I'll be....you, a half-droid?"

She clenched her fists. "It was done without my consent. I got my hand chewed off at Jenuwaa, I arrived on Mandalore unconscious, and they did the procedure without asking."

Shia let out a breath and laughed. "I'm sorry if I offended you. I'm just....shocked." She swallowed. "Are you sure you don't want to join our family?"

"Yes," she snapped, moving to the common room and concealing her lightsabers beneath her camisole. "He cannot love us both."

Shia looked down—perhaps guiltily—at her belly, and nodded. "You're right."

◈◈◈

Did you know....

● Although Ronderu is the easiest POV character for me to write, since she's a woman like yours truly....Rón is my favorite character in the book.

● When Ronderu rejected the gloves, it was because she was afraid of corrosive material on the inside.

Tell me what you think....

● Did Rón learn about the death of her family on her own, or did someone talk to her about death before she could understand it?

● Is Ronderu's grief over being childless a cover-up for deeper loneliness?