Chapter Text
Jyn Erso remembers the first time Dedra donned the lion onesie as though it was yesterday. It was no secret to all who knew them that she and Dedra had never been the best of friends and had disliked one another in the passive, simmering manner of two people who at their core believed they were never destined to get along.
But the first time Dedra donned the lion onesie also happened to be the first time that Jyn was sent to do any kind of major celebrity event on her own and Dedra, by virtue of being Prime Minister Partagaz' daughter and a notable artist even at her young age, had become enough of a celebrity even though she hadn't sought such a level of fame in the slightest.
"You're sure it's her?" said Syril, as Jyn strode out of The Times' building, her initial excitement at being trusted quickly fizzled out by leaning exactly who it was she was covering.
"Yes," sighed Jyn, gripping her phone to her ear. "It's on the PR brief. Her name is right here under 'Special Guests'. Apparently it's her and one of those boys from One Direction. Don't ask me the name, you know I don't know which is which."
"You're sure?" Syril repeated. "Absolutely positive? This is Dedra you're talking about?"
"Yes," Jyn repeated. "Why, do you want to come down here yourself?"
"Oh - gosh, no," she heard Syril stutter, and Jyn nodded in satisfaction as she boarded the bus. "No, no, the invite is for you so -"
"Bet I could get you in. When did you last speak?"
"A few months ago."
Jyn narrowed her eyes. A few months?
"After that Ball?"
"Mmmhm."
"I - what?" asked Jyn, leaning back against her seat in confusion. She knew what had gone down between Syril and Dedra during that Ball... of sorts. Anyone who knew the two of them knew the something had gone down between Syril and Dedra during that Commemoration Ball, and it had honestly surprised her that in the months since Syril and Dedra hadn't got together in the slightest. Sure, all of them were now out of university and struggling along looking for jobs, but still...
"You haven't talked at all?" she pressed. "Not even on the phone?"
"Ah, you know... " Syril mumbled, and Jyn shook her head in exasperation, already able to predict what was coming. God, he could really be his own worst enemy. "She's always busy, taking the art world by storm and all, and I didn't want to make her uncomfortable or make her feel like I was getting in her way... I suppose we've texted a little. Good mornings and such."
"Oh good lord," groaned Jyn out loud. "Just call her, or pop over to hers. She cares about you, doesn't she?"
"I guess so... we haven't talked about it, really."
"Excuse me?" exclaimed Jyn, jerking up in her seat until she saw the entire bus staring at her. "Look, I know I've been busy and we've not really talked about what happened that night -"
"I've been fine with that."
"But look, you did spend the night at hers after the Ball, did you not?"
"A gentleman does not -"
"I've known you since we were kids and you had ice cream dropped on your head by a seagull on Brighton Pier. Drop the act. You did, didn't you?"
"Yes," she heard him whisper. "Yes, I did spend the night at her dorm."
"And can I infer from that admission that certain things went on between the two of you in such a situation?"
"... yes. Maybe."
"Tell me straight, Syril."
"I want you to know that I do not appreciate you using your interviewing techniques on me. I'm not one of your subjects -"
"Syril."
"Fine. Yes."
"And do you want it to be more than a one-time situation? You do, do you not?"
"I think... Jyn. I think with her it could be a the-rest-of-my-life situation."
Jyn froze as the bus arrived at her stop, and she scrambled to get off as she checked her watch. There was still ten minutes before the event started. This was fine. She had time. Goddammit, Syril...
"Syril," she stammered. "I mean... you're twenty-one. She's twenty-one. We're all fucking twenty-one. None of us know what the bloody hell we're doing. It's pretty early to know or think something like that. How many people have you even dated? One? Two? Does that girl from Somerville last year even count? Listen, I get that you and Dedra have had this weird thing since you were kids but -"
"But I know, Jyn," he replied. "I know it's her. To me, she is her, do you understand? I know you haven't found your person yet, but I know she's mine. The thing is that I don't know if I'm hers and I don't think I'm ready to find out. What if I'm not? Then what the hell do I do?"
Jyn stalked down the street, her best friend's admission a mild shock to the system. It indeed was weird, this love-hate thing that had existed between the two had since childhood.
Nevertheless, she'd always believed Syril was too good for Dedra. He was sincere to a fault, a sensitive soul that did his best no matter how many times life tried to strike him down. He had a stepfather that treated him like a shelter puppy, a stepbrother who hated every cell in his body and a stepsister - however darling - who was adored more by his biological mother than he was. He deserved someone kind and gentle, and Jyn, an lonely only child, had taken him under her wing like a baby bird and was more than happy to be his shield until that someone came along.
Dedra, as far as Jyn was concerned, was not kind and gentle. She got everything she wanted, had two fathers who bent over backwards to ensure she and her brother got any opportunity in life that could be gifted to them. She was haughty, stern and her and her friends acted like the world was theirs to win. They got everything right in class, set standards that the other girls couldn't meet and worst of all, didn't even want praise or adulation for it. Jyn couldn't bear it.
Sure, she had never really spent any proper time with them, but she had seen enough to pass judgement, and though Jyn rarely liked to toot her own horn, she thought it was a mark of how loyal a friend she truly was that she'd only ever been supportive for Syril where his whole confusion-over-how-he-felt-about-Dedra had been concerned.
She looked up as she approached the building. The St. Dwynwen Orphanage had been recently renovated - thanks to a generous donation from the Partagaz-Krennics - and the crowds had gathered for anniversary of the building's reopening last year.
"I've gotta go," whispered Jyn. "I'll say hi to her from you. See you later for Jenga night."
There were crowds gathered on the top floor, where the donation had enabled the orphanage to open a large playroom for the children. Jyn squeezed through the crowds of press to get a clear view of things and spotted, much to her surprise, Dedra clad head to toe in a lion onesie as she played on a fluffy playmat with several of the children.
She knew she should be listening to what the orphanage directors were saying. After all, her coverage was meant to be about the whole event and not merely a celebrity scoop, but Syril's comments on the bus had thrown her, and that she was seeing Dedra - of all people - wearing what was essentially a lion costume in order to brighten the day of some orphaned children, became too much for her brain to deal with.
"Dedra," she hissed, moving to the side of the crowd, trying to wave surreptitiously and mildly succeeding. "Psst! Dedra. It's me."
In mild trepidation Jyn watched as Dedra looked up from the playmat, searching for the source of the noise until her eyes fell resolutely on Jyn. They narrowed. As expected.
"Oh," Dedra said, and Jyn couldn't be mad at the lukewarm reception. It was as civil as either of them had been able to bear with one another for years. "It's you."
"Syril says hello," Jyn said quickly, for something, anything to say. "I just spoke to him on the phone, said you'd be here."
Dedra stared, and for a moment Jyn worried the former hadn't heard her. Then the blonde cleared her throat stiffly before looking down at the children.
"Give me a second, okay? I'll come back to play soon," Dedra kindly, before getting to her feet and walking over to where Jyn stood at a respectful distance.
"You spoke to him?" asked Dedra quietly, pulling Jyn to one side.
"Er, yeah," Jyn replied. "A few moments ago."
"Oh," Dedra repeated again, her jaw clenching just a little. "Is he okay? Is he well?"
"Yeah, totally fine," shrugged Jyn. "I didn't expect to see you here, to be honest. Didn't ever think I'd see the day when the press objectives of a One Direction member might be the same as yours."
"I don't even know him," Dedra hissed, rolling her eyes. "Listen, do you even know why my fathers donated money here last year?"
"Of course not," Jyn shrugged. "It was all fairly hush hush by design, wasn't it? To be honest it came across as a bit of a try-hard endeavour from two wealthy men that needed a PR boost."
"This was the orphanage where my father found me, Jyn," whispered Dedra, and Jyn's eyes almost popped out of her head in surprise. Of course, it was obvious now it had been said out loud. "I've been wanting to do something like this for years. But my dads told me to keep my head down, to make sure I didn't earn anything out of pity. I am their kid. It doesn't matter that I came from here."
"Of - of course."
"But now I'm out of uni I think I have the right to say where any attention towards me goes and if I can bring a little attention here... listen, I know we don't see eye to eye so you can write what you like about me, but can you mention them plenty, please? They could do with the press."
Jyn swallowed nervously, irritated by the guilt that had started to bubble up in her gut as she felt slightly chastised for her dislike of Dedra over the years.
"Um, sure," Jyn agreed. "Sorry. I really didn't know... Syril never mentioned... are you fine with me mentioning your connections here? It makes a good story, I know it would get more eyes on the piece. It's all about clicks these days, more of a narrative would make my editor very happy. Look, I'll even let you read it before it goes out, if you like. For old times' sake."
Dedra took a deep breath as she considered Jyn's proposition, before finally giving a brief nod.
"Okay," she assented. "And I don't need to read it, don't mess up your integrity just because we know each other. I know you're a good writer and... Syril trusts you, so I do."
"Dedra," said Jyn, a thought instantly crossing her mind. "Have you called Syril, since the Ball? I know you two haven't spoken in person since then, he mentioned it to me."
"No..." Dedra murmured, distractedly looking back out at the children. "He's working on that new series of sculptures and I know he's putting so many hours. in. I don't want to get in the way if he's occupied with his dreams. What, I can be occupied with mine but he can't? It wouldn't be fair to be intrusive -"
And just like that, all the little pieces seemed to fit in Jyn's head.
Shit, thought Jyn to herself. Shit and bother. She'd always thought she'd had a fairly good grasp on things, especially people, and yet she'd been wrong when it came to her best friend. Had it been her dislike of Dedra that had so easily clouded her mind? Nevertheless, how had he genuinely not seen it at all?
Good god, these two were foolishly, ridiculously perfect for one another. Sure, twenty-one was young. Terrifyingly so. And yet if Syril thought she was the one for him, maybe he wasn't wrong after all...
That brought her all the way to today, right now, as she listened to Syril lament on the phone.
"She still didn't take the lion onesie back?" she asked, as she lounged back in the bath. "You dry-cleaned it and she still didn't want it back?"
"No," he sighed. "I wouldn't have taken it if I'd known... how did we even get onto this? I was telling you about Rey's victory here. How -"
"You mentioned having a moment with her in Rey's rooms after she slapped Armitage."
"I think I was imagining things, Jyn," Syril muttered. "Maybe it wasn't a moment at all. Ignore me."
There was a knock on the bathroom door.
"Come in," called out Jyn, only to roll her eyes as she saw Cassian saunter in, munching on a piece of black forest gateaux.
"I couldn't resist another piece, cariña," he greeted her cheerily. "Do you want one?"
"Afraid not," Jyn sighed. "I'm talking to Syril."
"Is he still in Miami?"
"Yes?"
"Dedra there too?"
Jyn splashed him with water as she heard Syril groan on the phone.
"She is," smirked Jyn. "But Syril is staying disciplined and focusing on doing the right thing, which is getting the poor woman's work back. It's the least he can do. Right, Syril?"
"Right," she heard him sigh. "You're right. I'm losing sight of the real objective here. I need to get her work back. I need to atone for what I did."
Jyn softened as she lay back in the bath once more, Cassian sitting down on the bathroom floor next to her as he continued to attack his slice of cake. It really had been a story of ups and downs between Syril and Dedra, and if her best friend truly believed they were endgame - and Jyn was a true believer that they were - he owed it to them both to start things off with a blank slate. No more water under bridges, nothing unsaid between them for the rest of their lives.
What was the phrase... fools rush in. Well, Jyn knew Syril was no fool. She'd just need to remind him of it, every so often. If they were going to get back together this time, it needed to be done properly. There was no need to rush.
"Attaboy," said Jyn. "Just keep your focus, alright? Get Dedra's work back. That's the focus. And check your phone. Armitage always makes a statement at a race. I'll send over anything to you as soon as I see it."
"If you need anything, just ask," said Rey happily, clutching Dedra's arm as they walked along Miami beach. It was beautifully cool in the dead of night and the beach was fairly empty; nevertheless, Rey's bodyguard was at a distance while the others ambled behind.
Rey had always been disciplined when it came to race wins. No alcohol, a light celebration with the team, and then a private dinner with the people she cared about. At most, that was usually her mother and any time Syril or her father had been able to make it over. Armitage always received an invite, of course, though he never accepted, especially when Syril was present.
It had all been a most opportune set up when it came to sitting down with Kleya, Bix, Dedra, Syril and Corv.
"He's loaning out your pieces for extra cash," Rey had told them. "The Crown Prince and the like. For extortionate amounts of money, but these oligarchs will pay him well to own one of your pieces to show off, Dedra, even if it's just for a few weeks to a few months."
"So he's whoring out my work," Dedra sighed, gripping her neck as she looked down at the table. "I'll be honest, I didn't want to know what he'd done with it. I suppose part of me hoped he'd shut it away and sat on it, but now knowing that he's shipping it out here and there... I don't know if that's better or worse..."
And Rey had watched eagle-eyed as Syril reached over and placed a hand on the table next to Dedra, inches away from her. Rey stifled a smile.
"We'll get it all back, I swear," Syril had sworn. "I promise Dedra, we'll take it out of his hands."
Rey leaned against Dedra's head as the waves of the Atlantic lapped against the shore. Ah, there was nothing like the fresh sea air after the claustrophobia of a Forumla 1 car.
"You saw the statement Armie just made," she said. "His first stadium unveiling in the Gulf is set to be this week, and Jyn will be there. She'll make sure we get evidence his work is falling apart, Corv will get his connects to spread it quickly online, Kleya will bring it up as a point in Parliament. We'll put pressure on him, you'll see."
"And you really want me to simply sit here feigning ignorance for the time being?" asked Dedra, clearly still skeptical. "Pretend I have no idea what's going on?"
"You just keep up your lovely, devotedly quiet artist image until we need you," smiled Rey. "Don't worry. Let us all help you for once, okay?"
"Rey," Dedra winced, stopping in their tracks, and taking the younger woman's hands. "Why are you helping me? I know we're friends but you've always had hope in Armitage, even when he didn't deserve it. Why try to help us bring him down now, even for me?"
"Oh please," smirked Rey, glancing back whence they'd came, where the others were still chattering away. She caught sight of Syril, head down as he was deep in thought with Kleya. Ah, fuck it... sure, Rey knew she had a bet to win, but even if Corv hadn't drawn up a odds table...
"I have my reasons," Rey shrugged, knowing the full force of what she was about to drop. "And Syril's never stopped loving you, not even for a second. He'd do anything in the world for you and I'd do anything to help my big brother. So believe me, we'll get your work back. Trust us, okay? We've got your back."
Armitage grinned to himself as he straightened his tie. So the stadium was not perfectly ready. But when were things ever perfectly ready anyway? Sometimes corners needed to be cut to get things done, and he hadn't made money by spending where it wasn't necessary.
"You are the boss," he said to his reflection in the mirror. "You are a lion, the king of business. You are a lone wolf, howling majestically at the moon. You are a gorilla, like Kong, the king of the jungle. You are eternal. You are the alpha and omega. You are Armitage, and you are destiny itself."
He smoothed his hair down and took a peek through the curtains to see the crowds of employees, guests and press lying in wait.
Roving his eyes through the crowd, Armitage swore under his breath as he spotted her. Jyn Erso. Of course the irritating woman was here. Had Kleya set her? He made a mental note to tell his staff not to let her into gatherings anymore before remembering that she had become a well-regarded mouthpiece for The Guardian after leaving The Times some half-decade ago. He didn't need more headlines.
"Dammit," he swore to himself, before looking for his mother and father.
God, he hated them both. His stepmother, always so obsessed with achievements and status, refused to put him higher than her darling son, even though she had no problem doing that with Rey because she was a girl. Then there was his stupid father, always excited to show off Syril's achievements, how proud he was to have an artistic son with works hung up here and there around the world. He simply wouldn't stop going on about it, how he believed Syril was the finest young artist of his generation, certainly finer than that Dedra...
In that regard Armitage vehemently disagreed, although he would never say as such to her face.
Yet despite his dislike for both his parents, he still wanted them around for his triumphs and this, his first international stadium, built for an Olympics no less, was one of his finest in his entire career.
He spotted his father first, a wispy old man in a smart suit and a strained, toothy smile as he shook the hands of several men around him. Armitage angled a little to see if he could spot his stepmother. Yes, there she was, all dressed up in a smart orange suit and high coiffured bob. And then -
His eyes widened. Skinny frame, gelled curly hair, brown suede jacket that was no doubt thrifted from somewhere... what the hell was Syril doing here?
Armitage balled his hands into fists as he strode away from the curtain, his face red.
"FUCK!" he shouted.
Dedra smiled to herself as she read Jyn's report.
"A Disaster of Olympic Propostions
Is Armitage Palpatine single-handedly setting up the 2030 Olympics for failure?"
Dedra's eyes took in the fair - as was always Jyn's way - criticism of the unveiling of the first Olympic Stadium for Gulf 2030. To say it was an unmitigated disaster was an understatement. By all accounts Armitage had been anxious and flustered during the presentation, for reasons that no one seemed to understand.
She smirked to herself. Syril had been there, after all.
He'd stuttered in his speech, had failed to cut the ribbon properly the first time, and had to attempt it a second time before accidentally dropping the scissors onto his shoe. The tour of the stadium had only gone downhill from there. Jyn had grilled him on the stadium toilets struggling to flush, as well as several reports that the media centre's place in the stadium made it ineffective for the coverage of certain sports... the list went on and on.
"Underconfident in his work... the Crown Prince looked positively embarrassed to be present," Dedra read out loud.
And that was the key, wasn't it? Reveal the disasters in Armitage's projects until he was up against a wall, forced to sell her work and at long last it might finally be hers again.
Dedra put her iPad down and let out a long, deep breath. It was all easier said than done, and yet she could taste it. Her work would be hers again soon and then everything could go back to the way it was. Back to her nice peaceful life, and she could give Syril back that portfolio and he'd... leave her alone once and for all.
Rey's words rung in her head, and she'd wondered if Syril's little sister had even meant to say them.
Syril's never stopped loving you, not even for a second.
She picked up her phone, hand hovering over the device as she wondered if she had the right to simply call him like this. She was busy and he was just the same, no? Then she remembered he had no problem just calling her up during a torrential rainstorm several weeks ago, and she huffed at herself. Why was she even overthinking this? For once, she ignored the voice in her head and picked up the phone, pressing dial on his number.
"Hey," she said quickly, as soon as heard he'd picked up. "I saw Jyn's piece. Kleya's delighted, she can't wait to make a point about his unwise foreign investments in Parliament tomorrow."
"Hi," he chuckled back, and at once she heard a warmth spread through her upon hearing his voice. "Yeah, she also texted to tell me so."
"Did you really stare him down, then?" asked Dedra. "Made Armitage quake in his boots?"
"Of course," replied Syril, putting on a mock voice of pomposity. "Only doing my duty, ma'am. I stared him down like I'd stare down a leopard."
"A leopard seal, perhaps."
"Ha! Yes. He came right up to me afterwards, demanded to know why I was here."
"What did you say?"
"I said I was here to support my little brother."
"Syril," Dedra chided. "You didn't call him little."
"I did. I had a mission, ma'am! Get under the man's skin and all."
Dedra laughed out loud now, already able to imagine the fury on Armitage's face at being referred to as 'little' in any shape or form.
"Oh! And Dedra, I spotted your favourite at the airport!" Syril added, as he laughed along with her. "Chocolate almonds. I got you a box. So that you have a memento of this moment."
"The moment you made Armitage cower over his toilets?" Dedra chuckled, the notion that Syril had thought of her settling resolutely in the back of her mind, quickly making a home for itself. Syril's never stopped loving you, not even for a second.
Easy, now. They had a deal. If she cared about him at all, she'd uphold her end of the bargain just as she knew he'd be honourable enough to do so on his.
Easy, easy...
"Exactly," he said with a grin Dedra could hear through the phone. "What do you think Kleya will say in Parliament tomorrow? Reckon she'll call him some names?"
"Syril, come on..."
And in their family home in Belgravia, Sheev Palpatine watched as his eldest son walked around his study, chatting happily on the phone to Dedra, gesticulating with his hands animatedly as he talked with an enthusiasm his stepfather hadn't seen in over a year.
When he passed by the study door again several hours later, Syril was still on the phone, a wide smile on his face.
"Who's he talking to?" demanded Eedy, as she curiously took in the scene of her husband staring at her son.
"Her," said Palpatine carefully, turning over his thoughts as he did so.
"A girl?" asked Eedy, forgetting, as she always did, that her son was now a grown adult.
"Not just any girl," mused Palpatine. "Her. Dedra. Partagaz' daughter."
"Oh!" clapped Eedy in delight, positively bouncing off the floor. "Thank goodness for that! Isn't that good, Sheev? That smart girl with brains and talent and fantastic bone structure, if I do say so myself! It's all I've ever wanted for Syril! How good! Are they back together yet? Officially? Do we know? The top wedding venues are mostly taken for next year but maybe I could start making enquiries for the year after. Should I call Clooney to ask if he can spare his villa in Lake Como? If he could spare it for Emily Blunt surely he would for Syril... didn't his wife buy one of Dedra's pieces a few years ago? Ooooh! How exciting! I'll start compiling guest lists. So good! Isn't that good, Sheev?"
"I suppose it is," murmured Palpatine. "I suppose it is..."