𝕮𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡
━━ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙍𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙎𝙏 𝙑𝙊𝙄𝘾𝙀𝙎

━━ 𝘒𝘈𝘕𝘛𝘖𝘖𝘕𝘐𝘈
𝟸𝟺 𝙱𝙱𝚈

Even the bravest voices tremble from time to time.

Engines rattle as they thrust to maximum power, a battleship soars through the atmosphere of a strange planet. Its insides are filled with low whispers, the sound of helmets locking in with the rest of the suit and blasters being loaded. Two kybercrystals slumber in the darkness of the ship, the sabers being held closely by a master and her padawan. The 105th legion is ready, they are experienced and trained for this war, and so is General Val'aeon.

But even the bravest voices tremble from time to time.

Selyn remembers her mother's words as she sits in the spaceship now, surrounded by a warm darkness sprinkled with control lamps, the blinking lights like strange glow worms in a summer's night. It is quiet, and she knows that it's the last calm before they will touch down on Kantoonian's suface. The spaceship soars through the planet's atmosphere, bull creaking and engines roaring as they near the end of their journey.

She is sitting in the front of the ship, legs crossed, her mouth a thin line. Her hands are tight around the lightsaber, and even though nervosity is infecting every cell like poison dripping, she tries her best to radiate an adamant certainty, strong like the steel surrounding her.

She tries to imagine her mother's face floating before her in the darkness of the ship, face glowing with love, the familiar features warm against the icy, thin air. There would be pride in her eyes, too, pride that her daughter has become a great warrior. Even if Selyn doesn't feel like one.

Even the bravest voices tremble from time to time. That's what Adlysa would say, voice full of motherly warmth. Remember that there is strength in acknowledging your weaknesses.

The ship groans as it starts its descent though iced clouds. She hears the rattling of thousands of ice pricks hitting the metal surface.

Selyn shuffles her feet nervously, hears the whisper of the fur lined coat against her skin.

She thinks of them. Of her mother, her sisters and her brother. Her father, all of them safe on Crylles. Hopefully. And of course, she thinks of Anakin.

She thinks of all these people she loves so dearly, who make her the person she is, unyielding to the core. For them.

She thinks of the battlefield below that will make her into a soldier. The rhythm of thousands of feet hitting the ground, the whistle of the blaster canons, the shouting of the attacking and the screaming of the wounded. She thinks of the war raging below that will take all the things that matter, her individuality and her love, burn them in the ravaging heat and forge her as if she were a blade. As if she were metal, as if she couldn't break. As if she could withstand it all, as if she was made for this.

I am too young for this.

She's barely an adult, just turned twenty, hasn't loved and lived to her full extent yet.

The clones behind her, lined up neatly like the merciless killing machines they're supposed to be stir as they enter the last stage of their descent. The ship is not only surrounded by the icy winds now but also by explosions thrumming like a distant heartbeat with an unsettling irregularity. It is cruel - the next blow is always coming, you just never know when. It is the silence between the mayhem that is the hardest to bear, the anticipation creeping up on her, gripping her stomach with icy hands and making her shoulders go rigid.

To her left, a young Twi'lek boy fiddles his fingers nervously. His beaded padawan braid bounces up and down in the turbulence, and Selyn can see that he, too, is trying his best to play the part of fearless soldier. It's his first large-scale battle.

He is too young for this.

Selyn lays a hand on his arm. "Noa," she says softly. "Are you ready?"

He manages a grin. "Ready as I'll ever be." But his eyes seem darker than they normally are, the lightness and his silly humour are missing from his words, gone is the sarcastic over-confident way of acting.

Noa has been assigned to her a few months after the war started. The Jedi council wanted them to be trained for warfare – they were in desperate need of military leaders. But when Selyn looks at him she doesn't see a Commander, not even a soldier. She sees a boy, just fourteen years old, who can be unbearably sarcastic and sassy in all the wrong moments, grinning with false confidence as he makes another cocky joke, but who is, above all, just a boy.

She squeezes his arm before letting go. "You'll be just fine. And I bet you can take out more droids than Ahsoka. We can't let Anakin keep bragging with his padawan's personal high-score, right?"

Noa scoffs. "You know she doesn't stand a chance, master."

Anakin and Selyn have adapted a way of competing indirectly by using their padawans, and Noa and Ahsoka have happily taken over the competitive spirit, comparing their scores and insulting each other at any given moment with a creativity that leaves even their masters stunned from time to time.

It is a win-win situation for everyone since it offers a sense of easy companionship and lightness that is fiercely needed. And as a bonus it reminds Selyn of her and Anakin's relationship when they were younger, and every time she sees their padawans squabbling now the melancholy of days spent under Crylles hot sun, ice cones and midnight desert kisses hits her again.

The ship thuds onto the frozen ground, ice screeching as the metal arms attach themselves to the surface.

Doors open, watery, cold light seeps into the darkness. The cold hitting the next second takes Selyns breath away for a moment. Icy wind sweeps into the ship, tiny snowflakes following in its wake.

She is the first one to step onto the ground, her thick boots imprinting on the hardened snow, Noa closely behind her.

The conflict on Kantoonia has been going on for far too long now with neither the Seperatists nor the Republic making formidable wins of territory. The surface of the planet offers little protection or opportunities for strategic attacks, so it's a merciless fight that engages both armies, with high losses on both sides. That's why the republic has sent Selyn and her legion, they are expected to turn the tides in this battle. They are dropped off a little westward from the Republic's camps, behind enemy lines – with their fresh power they will plunge through the Seperatist's formations and create a new opening for the Republic to claim a new vantage point.

The snow crunches beneath her boots as she walks around, gaining an understanding of their surroundings. They won't have long until the Seperatists notice their arrival if they haven't already – it's crucial for them to attack as soon as possible.

A dystopic wasteland littered with fires and bodies of metal and flesh stretches out before them, the sharp wind carrying a ballad of war and loss. At first, she thinks the ground is tinted red from spilt blood, but then she realizes it's just the natural colour of the snow. Black, barren trees rise up from the endless, rocky surface of Kantoonia, reminding her of gnarled fingers. In the distance she can make out the unnaturally sharp outline of mountains and above all hovers a moon, overly large and way to close for her liking, claiming almost half of the grey sky with its ghostly bone-white surface.

She's used to the vibrant, rich scent that perfumes Crylles' air, but this atmosphere smells of nothing. Empty of life, of plants, of anything alive contributing to fragrance.

This is a world where people go and face death.

Even the bravest voices tremble from time to time.

And so Selyn screams as they attack, lets her anger and fear take away the shakiness of her limbs, the fragility of the lives around her. She screams as she destroys the lifeless droid army before her, playing the part of the fearless soldier, but her voice is drowned out by the machinery churning around her until she is one with the cacophony of war, until she can't tell where her arm ends and her blades begin.

The quiet inside the Republic's base is thundering inside Selyn's ears. She can't stand the stillness after battle, it feels so wrong to be in a place this serene and calm when just moments ago she has been surrounded by death. It makes her skin crawl and sends her pacing around the little room she has been led to in order to freshen up. Adrenaline is still coursing through her bloodstream, making her jump at every little sound.

Their mission has been a success so far, Selyn and her troops have managed a breakthrough at the western front, meeting the rest of the Republic's army halfway to their base. Whilst she is pacing the room she knows that her soldiers are working on securing the area now and claiming the elevated rock formation that has been their goal all along.

Thick, fur lined pants and a long-sleeved shirt of unfamiliar fabric have been laid out for her on the small cot. It is much colder than she expected, and so she is glad for the extra layers to protect her from the freezing temperatures.

She redoes her braids and washes off the smudges staining her face – this is a well-practiced procedure that helps her to be grounded, to become human again after being merely a product of war in battle.

Before stepping out of the small room she faces herself in the cracked, dirt-clouded mirror.

I am a general now, she reminds herself. A general of the grand army. She tries to put on a confident and stern expression, like the one Anakin wears when he commands the troops. The one look that every soldier in his legion respects, because when he wears it, he becomes a god born for this war. Unafraid and bold, his presence so fiercely strong that it leaves no room for doubt, no choice but to follow him into sweet awaiting death.

Selyn tries to mimic his stoic look, tries to force steel into her gaze but she can't even fool her own reflection. Pathetic.

Anakin was made for this. Even if he denies it, even if he hates it, he thrives in this war. Reckless and yet incredibly passionate, he poses a dangerous mixture that has been a thorn in the council's eyes for most of his life, but now it has now become his greatest strength. It makes him unyielding in the face of danger, standing proudly to meet death, blue light saber flashing in his hand. Evading blow by blow.

He is made for this.

She isn't.

She feels too young, too small to be on her own. She just wants to rely on Nadia for most of the time, how can she be made a general when she still needs guidance herself? How can she be expected to command a legion when there are doubts waiting for her in every moment she is alone?

She is strong. And she is smart. She is a good Jedi and has been a good General so far, despite her doubts. But she is not made to be a soldier. She isn't calculating or cunning or even reckless and brave like Anakin.

All her life, the Jedi have taught her to value life above all else. And suddenly it's just become another currency in this war. But she cannot gamble with the lives of her troops as if she was rolling a dice, she can't trade their souls for vantage points or destroyed Seperatist bases. Can't exchange people with names for seemingly meaningless victories, can't give away something that doesn't even belong to her.

Selyn can't bargain with death. The price is always too high.

Instead, she is the one to pay. Always on the front lines, drawing as much fire as possible to protect her men.

The dice rolls and stills and a soldier falls a few meters away from her. Selyn can't keep them all out of harm's way, but she does her best nonetheless.

Golden flash. That's what her legion calls her. She has become infamous among the clones for her aggressive and protective fighting style, for this whirlwind of a human being she becomes in the front lines, cutting metal and deflecting laser bolts left and right.

Sometimes death holds out its hand, offering a deal.

She refuses each time.

✧･ﾟ:* 𝕬𝘜𝘛𝘏𝘖𝘙'𝘚 𝘕𝘖𝘛𝘌 *:･ﾟ✧

WELLLLCOME to act two!!

this chapter was basically just some insight into how Selyn's character has changed during the war so far, how it impacts her and what her role in it is. Also we have a new character unlocked, what are we thinking? Honestly, I don't know who I want to give big fat hug more in that chapter, Selyn or Noa. They're both angsty babies and Not Made For This.

ANYways what do you think of war!Selyn and General!Selyn? (it sounds so sexcy oml bye)  our baby has grown so much fr fr

hope you enjoyedddd

also war-core!Selyn outfits hehe

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