Chapter Text
Ezra paced across the end of the corridor, wringing his hands nervously as he steeled himself. Whenever his father summoned him, he found himself hesitating, hovering down the hallway as he tried to work up the nerve to walk through the door. He wasn’t afraid of his father. He wasn’t. But whenever he was in the man’s presence, he felt like he was shrinking out of existence under his father’s critical eye.
Finally deciding that he couldn't afford to stall any longer, he took a long, shuddering breath before making his way down the corridor. He paused outside the door, straightening his back before he quietly slipped into his father’s study. The man was waiting for him, his back to the door as he stared down into the fire.
“You wanted to see me?” Ezra said as the door closed behind him.
His father turned to face him and Ezra ducked his head to avoid looking at the expression on his father’s face. That cold, calculating look was so familiar to Ezra, and it always made him feel like he was being examined and evaluated; and half the time, he was.
“I have a task for you,” his father said.
“I’m at your disposal, sir,” Ezra said, keeping his head bowed.
“You know of Lord Thrawn,” his father said. Ezra nodded quickly.
“You are going to kill him.”
A hard knot formed in Ezra’s stomach, but still he slowly nodded, knowing he wouldn’t refuse, even if he could.
“Y—yes, Father,” he said, his voice shaking slightly.
“Ezra,” his father said, his voice suddenly stern. “You cannot hesitate. Doing so can get you killed.”
“I—I know,” Ezra said. “I know, I’m just…”
“You’re afraid.”
“Yes,” Ezra mumbled. Admitting it caused a hard knot of shame to tighten in his throat. He knew he shouldn’t be. He’d killed before. He’d done it without hesitation whenever his father ordered him to, starting when he was only nine years old. But this was Thrawn. Ezra had never met him, but his father had made sure he knew enough about the leaders of all the Great Houses in Luthadel to properly assess their respective threat levels. Even if he hadn’t, Ezra knew Thrawn’s reputation. He was always one step ahead of whoever tried to best him. He was ruthless and could destroy an enemy before they knew what hit them.
“You have trained for this your whole life,” his father said, placing a hand on Ezra’s shoulder and squeezing tightly, drawing a small smile out of Ezra. “I have every confidence in you.”
“Thank you, Father,” Ezra said. His father’s words did nothing to curb his fear, but hearing them still caused a small spark of warmth to burst to life in his chest. Praise from his father had always been rare, and he clung to every scrap that he got.
“Ezra,” his father said, withdrawing his comforting touch abruptly. “Do not disappoint me.”
“I won't,” Ezra said. “I promise.”
Ezra reached under his bed, pulling out the small wooden box he kept hidden there. He took a moment to glance back over his shoulder at the closed door. He knew there was no one else there, and there was no way his father could see what he was doing, but his face still burned with embarrassment as he fiddled with the latch on the box. Turning his gaze back to it, he opened it and carefully lifted out the small bundle of cloth inside it. He clutched it tightly for a moment, feeling as though it was filling him with strength.
It was his first mistcloak. His father had given it to him five years ago, before his first assignment. He’d long since outgrown it, but he’d kept it hidden in the box under his bed. It felt almost childish to admit it, even to himself, but holding it made him feel more confident. It was a reminder of the first time his father had trusted him with a mission, with real responsibility. He’d only been eight years old and he had helped his father nearly bring down one of the Great Houses. If he could do that at such a young age, he could do this now.
He placed the mistcloak back in its box and shoved it beneath his bed where no one would find it. His father didn’t know he’d kept it. Ezra knew his father wouldn’t approve of him being so sentimental, and so Ezra intended to keep it hidden.
As Ezra stood up and glanced out the window, he saw that the sun was beginning to set. He retrieved his newer mistcloak and settled it around his shoulders, placing his glass daggers and vials of metal on his belt.
It was time to do his duty.