Chapter Text
It seems fitting that the child is born on Lira San. With everything that they had been through during the war, finding the sanctuary of Lira San and settling into a life together there was everything that Alexsandr knew Zeb needed.
They’ve had (mainly playful) arguments about where the baby was conceived. Alexsandr suspected it was their first night on Lira San, in the little mud hut that Chava had been allowing them to use until Zeb could sort somewhere more permanent. It would be in-keeping with the mystic’s prophecy anyway. Zeb had argued differently, suggesting that Lasat pregnancies lasted closer to a standard year, rather than the human nine-month duration. If that was the case, then Alexsandr had been pregnant during the end of the war. Her previous pregnancy would have also been conceived a lot earlier than she had initially suspected – but that was a long time ago now. The telltale signs had all happened in a way that Alexsandr understood was normal with human pregnancies, so neither of them could be sure.
Unfortunately for Alexsandr, the baby was huge. She was glad that she was rather tall for a human (though still short compared to most of the Lasats on their new home planet) because otherwise there would have been more complications. Alexsandr just hoped being half-human, her baby would be small for a Lasat – she didn’t fancy putting her back out every time her child wanted to be lifted or held. Medical facilities, though rustic compared to those she had once been used to in the Empire, were decent enough on Lira San, and Zeb made sure to attend every appointment to translate what the healers were saying. Most of the elders spoke in Lasana only, and though Alexsandr was learning the language, she was glad that Zeb was there. Of course, he was the most enthusiastic father she had ever seen. To be fair, her own father had abandoned her family after her youngest sister was born.
Dmitri Kallus had fathered five children and had not seen any of them grow past the age of ten. His loss. The bastard had probably either drank himself to an early death or had rotted away in an Imperial labour camp years ago. Alexsandr had been personally responsible for releasing and helping to reclassify lots of Imperial prisoners at the end of the war. In all of the camps, she had never seen her father’s name on a list. Serves him right for disappearing one night, and then trying to get his brothers to evict her mother and siblings. As soon as Alexsandr got her first paycheck from the Empire, the money went on securing her mother a safe home. That included paying money to the local lower-level Coruscanti gangs, who later came to realise that the young woman paying for Yelena Kallus’s protection was Agent Kallus, ISB-021 herself. The Kallus family home was given a respectfully wide berth after that.
Still, it was unusual in Lasat culture for fathers to be this involved. Though, Alexsandr knew that Zeb wouldn’t have it any other way. The pregnancy had been rough. After the incident where Alexsandr's abdomen had been severely injured, it was unclear whether she'd be able to get pregnant again. When Alexsandr told Zeb she was, he was elated - but concerned. It was a risky pregnancy, and having Alexsandr safe under the medical care of his people was a smart move. Having a former ISB agent try to get New Republic citizenship (no matter that she had climbed to Lieutenant-Colonel during the war) to get healthcare for a high-risk pregnancy would not have been easy at first. However, an ex-ISB-turned-Rebel-Lieutenant-Colonel (legally) married to a Rebellion General and the mother of a half-Lasat child with Lira San citizenship – well, that would go down much better.
Alexsandr had undergone almost fortnightly checks by healers and elders, and eventually, the baby had been born. Healthy - though on the small side.
Kassia Hera Orrelios. A baby daughter.
Alexsandr had kept her name when she and Zeb married on Lira San (or were mated, as the Lasats called it) and had legally become Alexsandr Kallus-Orrelios. It was Lasat custom for the baby to take the father's name (or the name of the parent with the most senior family, if the parents were of the same sex). Either way, Kassia bearing her father's name would make the child's life a lot easier. As a former Honour Guard, Zeb's name held a lot of respect on Lira San. Kallus's, not so much.
Looks wise, Kassia oddly took after her mother. Though she was mostly Lasat-passing, rather than being purple like Zeb, Kassia's fur was golden brown. Her eyes were green like Zeb's, but she had much smaller fangs and a more human-like face. A baby lasat with tiny pointy human-shaped ears was quite a hilarious sight. Her fur was finer and shorter than Zeb's but resembled her Lasat heritage. The moment the elder placed the baby in Alexsandr's arms, telling Zeb they had a daughter, Alexsandr was in love. Generally, Lasats usually had two or three children at once, but Alexsandr was relieved she hadn't been carrying twins or triplets. Just the one was enough.
Zeb was enamoured. He loved his daughter fiercely; from the moment he knew of her existence. He'd been a sweet partner whilst Alexsandr was pregnant, and he seemed more than reasonably excited to marry his then-pregnant partner. It was Lasat custom to marry prior to having kits, but Zeb figured that nobody could argue if they were mated before the baby came along at least. The claw scars left on Alexsandr's stomach by Vidas Dret haunted her during the pregnancy, but seeing Zeb beam at the sight of her wearing a ceremonial mating day robe made Alexsandr feel a bit less self-conscious. Zeb loved her and had taken her as his mate and wife, despite everything. He didn't care that she was marked by another, he didn't care that the scars morphed as her belly grew. He didn't care that Alexsandr returned to having some of the snippy, bratty attitude she had once had when they got stuck on Bahryn together all those years ago.
And Zeb adored his daughter. Her golden fur, the ever so slight purple stripes, her big green eyes. In Zeb's eyes, Kassia was the perfect blend of him and Alexsandr. He was still annoyed about Chava’s reading of the ancient Prophecy of Three, placing him as the Child who would find Lira San, and Alexsandr as the bloodthirsty Warrior who would hunt him. As prophesied, Zeb (as the Child) had “saved” the Warrior, and the pair of them had happily settled on Lira San. Chava had never been able to come up with a name for the prophesied Fool, who would lead the Warrior to hunt. Alexsandr, ever the pragmatist, sarcastically remarked to Zeb once that Yularen had been the Fool. Zeb felt a smug sense of satisfaction seeing Alexsandr hold their child – Yularen (and the rest of the ISB) had been the fools all along. They had trained his wife for destruction, and here she was holding a symbol that suggested the opposite.
"The Fool, simple and selfish, he would lead the Warrior, bold and bloodthirsty, to hunt the hope of tomorrow, the Child, to destroy him! We will find our new home only if the Child saves the Warrior and the Fool."
That had been the prophecy. It seemed ridiculous to say that Zeb’s fate, his meeting with Alexsandr and his conversion of her from ISB agent to rebel to wife – had been prophesied, all to discover Lira San. But that was exactly what had been done. The prophecy had foretold their unity – it had said nothing about the birth of a literal child, but Zeb liked to think the Ashla had blessed him with Kassia as a daughter. That by not killing the vengeful, vicious Agent Kallus on Bahryn, he would find his new home - and a family.
Chava was also overjoyed at the birth of Kassia. Painfully, she reminded Zeb of his grandmother, the woman who had raised him, who had fallen in the siege on Lasan. It was true that Zeb had moved forward, but sometimes the sight of his wife – his mate, perhaps a woman even destined for him in the fates of the Ashla – sent a dark vision of the destruction of his village, of the Royal Palace in embers, of the fallen bodies of his fellow Honour Guards. He saw glimpses of the monster, the cold butcher who bared her teeth at him, who gloated and goaded him in battle. He loved Alexsandr dearly, he knew all that she had suffered in the past. He’d forgiven her, even when she had told him numerous times that she couldn’t forgive herself. But when Chava had toddled in, clutching her cane, asking to see the Child and inquiring after the health of the Warrior, Zeb couldn’t help but feel that the Fool had been someone else all along. None of the medics had said anything in front of Alexsandr as she laboured, but there had been remarks that Zeb had caught about the scars on Alexsandr’s body. They had contorted over her belly during the pregnancy, stretched and spread with the growing swell of her stomach. Alexsandr had glanced at them often with dead eyes. Whether Vidas Dret had known Alexsandr would one day become pregnant was never a consideration, they were horrific enough to look at before her pregnancy. Shortly before Kassia was born, Zeb had found Alexsandr huddled in the fresher, tears streaming down her face. The closer the due date, the more fearful that Alexsandr had become – but Zeb knew that this was something different. The scars were ugly, and they were on display each time she had to visit the medics.
The healers had called them a curse, a bad omen – these marks had not been used in generations, but all Lasat women knew exactly what they meant. The healers also knew that the prophesied Child had not done this. To mark one’s mate like this was cruel, and they knew an Honour Guard would never do it. They called him foolish - to take and wed a female with somebody else’s marks. It was unheard of. Zeb was fiercely protective of his mate, and his newborn daughter. Nobody was to harm them or disrespect them, but he knew what they symbolised.
So, Zeb secretly thought, that the Fool had been Vidas Dret – a cowardly mercenary who had not even been present for the destruction of Lasan but had punished the Butcher anyway. The revenge had not been his to take, and he had still inflicted on the Warrior a cruel mark of ownership that had been long outlawed because of its brutality. A Fool who would be overjoyed knowing the effects that the marks had on Alexsandr. Even now, he was still haunting them.
Alexsandr, despite the tough labour and the fear she had during her pregnancy, had smiled softly at Chava. Had greeted the elder with respect, and had shown Chava her daughter. Kassia, meaning ‘pure’, had allowed herself to be passed to the elder. Their daughter would be an absolution of her parents’ past, and …their sins. Chava, overjoyed at the name, took the baby in her arms. Alexsandr’s eyes had found Zeb’s, shining with tears. They had picked ‘Kassia’ not only for its Lasana meaning but also for its similarity to the name of Alexsandr’s fellow Fulcrum, the late Cassian Andor. Cassian’s birth name, Kassa, was the name that Alexsandr often used for him – it seemed a fitting tribute to her friend.
“Oh hello, darling girl.” Chava was one of the few elders who spoke Basic, and cooed over the baby.
Kassia’s blonde fur stood out against Chava’s purple.
“She is strong, Captain. Small, with strange features like her mother, but I can feel that the Ashla is with her. Some were worried that the Bogan would influence the child, but I do not sense it. In the mother, however…”
Chava had never quite fully warmed to Alexsandr, she was polite enough, occasionally even friendly, but she was always reserved. She was more reserved than she was with Zeb anyway.
Alexsandr’s eyes went wide and Zeb growled. He’d grown to respect Chava, but he didn’t like what she implied about Alexsandr. “What about my wife, Chava?”
Chava wrinkled her nose and passed Alexsandr. Alexsandr reached for her daughter but the mystic ignored her, holding Kassia in her arms. She turned to Zeb and frowned.
“Your mate. You have made Alexsandr Kallus your mate, and whilst you inhabit our home, you will respect tradition. She may be human but you are on Lira San…”
“Give me my daughter, Chava.” Alexsandr rose from her position lying on the bed. Or tried to. She halted with a hiss, and Zeb was at her side in an instant.
The healers had removed Kassia via what Alexsandr had called a caesarean, rather than a natural birth due to the complications that were predicted. Alexsandr had laboured, but the healers thought it better to do the procedure instead when Kassia’s head had appeared too big. Zeb had been concerned initially, but Alexsandr had told him that humans did emergency c-sections frequently, so she wasn’t worried. What was one more scar, she had said playfully. That concern for his wife – mate - had not disappeared yet. Zeb placed a hand on Alexsandr’s shoulder, telling her to keep still.
“She has birthed you a child, yes, but a strange one. You have lain with and become mated to the Warrior – the prophecy never spoke of such an act.”
“You said you’d come t’bless Kassia, not criticise my Sasha.” Zeb rolled his eyes, becoming impatient.
“The girl is a light, a guiding light. The darkness of the Bogan haunts your mate. The Warrior’s path is filled with trials. You must be mindful of the past.”
“Don’t.” Zeb spat, feeling Alexsandr flinch at Chava’s words.
“I won’t hurt my daughter, Chava. Please, give her to me.” Alexsandr’s voice trembled.
Instead, she handed the child to Zeb. Zeb watched the hurt behind Alexsandr’s eyes at the motion, but she schooled her face into a politically neutral expression. Zeb knew it well; it was one that she used when people discussed the Empire around her. Zeb glanced down at his daughter in his arms, her perfect little face, and then at Alexsandr. His gorgeous, beautiful mate. He passed Kassia to Alexsandr, placing a kiss on his daughter’s head. Alexsandr held the baby girl close, a grateful smile on her face.
Chava shook her head, “I trust in the Ashla, and your strength Garazeb. The past cannot be erased, only understood – learned from.”
“And I trust my mate, Chava. I trust that she will be a good mother to our daughter.” Zeb placed a hand on Alexsandr’s shoulder.
He could see her flagging now, exhaustion seeping onto her face. The healers would likely be back soon to check on her. Kassia was sleeping, content in Alexsandr’s arms.
When Chava spoke again, she spoke in Lasana. “I trust you, Garazeb. I trust also that people can change. But there is something dark within your mate. The Warrior could easily become… reaccustomed to her old ways.”
Zeb could not help himself; he replied in a tongue that he hadn’t used fluently in years. “Sasha – Alexsandr – has repented. I can protect her – from danger. From herself, if necessary.”
Zeb looked down at his wife, both Alexsandr and Kassia had fallen asleep now. Zeb picked up the baby and placed her in her cot. She looked so tiny, so perfect.
“You remember the royal family; I know you do. You remember - they had a daughter. The heir. She was not much older than your Kassia is now.” Chava didn’t know when to give up.
Of course, he remembered. As the Captain, that was his most important task – to protect the royals. But there was lots of fighting, his men had fought bravely against the white-plastoid figures but still fell anyway. And then came the bomb. When Zeb came to, the palace had been flattened and then ransacked. The stormtroopers, as Zeb now knew them, had not fought with honour. He had caught glimpses of their commander, some of his soldiers had said she was a young woman, a human. She had wielded twin vibroblades, and worn a strange helmet. Zeb had retreated like a coward when he learnt what the weapons could do, that the piles of ash surrounding him were not rubble, but his fallen comrades. He had never got a glimpse of the strange Imperial, coated in blood and ash. Instead, he had learned her name and her reputation through whispers in fighting rings and underground gladiator dens – the Butcher of Lasan, the Shadow of the ISB. Agent Kallus. He had faced her in battle on the same day he had met Ezra, she had dared to wield a bo-rifle against him.
But she had repented. Had endangered her life over and over again for a greater cause, for him.
And here she was, on Lira San. Asleep - hours after delivering their daughter. Wearing his family crest on a small band around her finger.
On all accounts it was unbelievable.
But here they were.
Alexsandr had not ordered the massacre, but that hardly mattered to some. She had taken part in it. She had not ordered the ‘troopers to bomb the palace to the ground, to make sure that there were no survivors but she had taken down Honour Guards. Zeb had felt bitter about that for years, a deep hatred and anger festering inside of him. That was how Kanan had found him, taking down Imperials for bounty money and scrapping anyone he could in fighting rings. The Bogan had soured him, for a decade. But look how Saw Gerrera’s mercenaries had treated Alexsandr on Onderon. A Lasat had taken her leg, scarred her, and defiled her. She had, through Zeb’s help, turned on the Empire. Took them down, and put herself at risk in order to do so. He had brought her to Lira San to show her that she hadn’t eradicated the Lasats. As his partner and a rebel, she had been welcomed.
Zeb had watched Alexsandr as she had hunted former Colonel Yularen down after the fall of the Empire. She had stalked him, taunted him, and made him fear her. She had used every piece of training that he had given her, and she had used it on him. The man had made her a monster, and to kill him she had embraced it one last time. Colonel Yularen had been found butchered. Zeb had found Alexsandr afterwards, coated in blood. Wullf Yularen had tried to scream, so she had cut out his tongue. He had tried to run, so she had shot him in the spine. He had died like a coward. Alexsandr had taken her vibroblades to him. She had slit his throat. New Republic officials had called it the work of a vigilante, a bounty hunter. No prints, no evidence – nothing had been left behind. Yularen had been killed by a shadow. The next day, they moved to Lira San. If Alexsandr was right, the very night their daughter had been conceived.
If Zeb was right, Alexsandr had not killed Yularen alone, Kassia would have already been with her.
But yes, Zeb could picture the princess. He knew that his mate had done awful things. He wasn’t a fool. He also knew she had worked hard to atone.
Zeb turned to Chava, nodding a head towards Alexsandr. “We both know exactly what one another is capable of, that is enough. Right now, my mate needs her rest, as does my daughter.”
In the dying sunlight, Alexsandr’s golden hair spread around her head like a halo. She looked at peace for the first time, even despite the medical robe she wore. Zeb had never seen his mate’s face so peaceful.
Alexsandr ‘Sasha’ Kallus-Orrelios, former Lieutenant-Colonel of Rebel Intelligence.
A wife. A mother.
A Warrior.
Zeb would fight the Bogan as best he could, he would keep Alexsandr in the light.