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To Thunhe’s own surprise and pleasure, not much changes when Thrawn moves in permanently. They’ve already established a routine, the only true difference is that when Da leaves, so too does Thrawn.
That part sucks.
Thunhe has always loved staying with Thalias. She learns a lot from her—Thalias takes absolutely no nonsense from the syndicature—and so Thunhe ends up going to stay with her for the summer. Before her Da and Thrawn had left, they had said that the deployment would likely be lengthy, so she had packed up everything she could and moved with Thalias to the Mitth Estate on Csilla.
It could be worse, probably.
Thunhe helps Thalias in her office by scanning physical copies into digital copies since all of the Elders refuse to just use questises for everything mostly because there is nothing else to do, but also because it counts as her government class. Thunhe knows plenty of family politics, she doesn’t need to waste her time learning textbook definitions. She knows everything she needs to know—her family will never be recognized by the Nine.
When not working, she spends her time lounging about the Estate. It’s a lot and she misses the small creature comfort of her family’s apartment.
She misses the way her bed feels, how the mattress has dipped a little from her weight every night, creating the perfect cocoon. She misses how the heater kicks on just as she’s laying down for bed and lulls her to sleep almost every night. She misses all of her yellow blankets—she brought her favorite, the one Eli gave her for her 7th birthday—and she misses the chilly bite of the wood floor on her toes first thing in the morning. Nothing about their apartment is meant to impress and she misses that, too.
But most of all she misses her dad and Thrawn. Cooking with them every night became routine and a source for much of their laughter. Having tea with Thrawn early in the morning—because they both refuse to wake Eli—was something else she enjoyed. Time spent with both of her dads—she has taken to calling both of them by the title if only mentally; she is certain Thrawn would protest it if spoken aloud—tends to fall to easy silence. But time with Thrawn feels like being welcomed into one of Da’s hugs.
Da shows his affection through hugs and words of affirmation. Thrawn shows his with time given. Thunhe is certain that he wouldn’t mind lounging with Da in the mornings—and sometimes he does—but most of the time he rises early with her. Every morning, he makes his favorite—now their favorite—spiced tea and greets her with a cup. He always pours it in her favorite yellow mug and he drinks from any mug available.
That, she decides, needs corrected before they get back.
Thunhe slips down the stairs—heading from the library to the Patriarch’s chambers—and nods at another Mitth’fancy’title on her way. Thalias’ office is just as opulent as the rest of the Mitth Estate and Thunhe knocks on one of the double doors leading into her space.
“Just a moment,” Thalias calls and opens the door just a breath later. “Thunhe! What a surprise!”
Thunhe gives her a tentative smile. “Sorry to bother you during the day.”
Thalias scoffs. “It’s no bother at all. What can I do for you?”
“Do you know anyone who specializes in making traditional pottery?”
Thalias’ eyebrows arch upward in confusion. “That is… a very specific request.”
“I took a pottery class a few years ago.”
A smile splits across the Patriarch’s face. “And you are terribly bored here.”
“Not terribly, no,” Thunhe hedges.
Thalias laughs. “I think I might know someone. I’ll place some calls.”
~
As is her nightly routine, Thunhe writes a letter to her dads. They are definitely well past communication range, but she figures they’ll just get them all at once when they are. In the few years that she has been separated from the EDF, Da has never complained.
She tells them about her day, about all she is learning and about how she would very much not like to go into politics. She has given more thought to what she would like to do when she graduates, but she still hasn’t decided. It feels like giving up to join the military again, but at the same time she wants to protect her family, her people.
She doesn’t tell them that bit, though. She is certain Da will have a few words to say about her choice to enlist and she isn’t a coward. No, if she’s going to get a dressing down, she’ll get it in person.
Besides, she tries to keep the letters light and airy and full of jokes. They’re fighting a war right now, they don’t need to worry about her.
She signs the letter with hugs and kisses and sends it off.
Then her oversized room, her oversized bed, and the other gaudy furnishings seem much, much lonelier. Grabbing her tattered, yellow blanket that smells like home, she curls up and tries to find some sleep.
~
“Good news,” Thalias announces as she sweeps into the dining room, a vision in deep burgundy. Really, it should be unfair for her to be the Patriarch of one of the Nine and be gorgeous.
“Yeah?” Thunhe straightens, bowl of morning oats forgotten.
“One distant Mitth cousin has a pottery business and suggested you come and stay for a while.”
Her stomach sinks. A shared name doesn’t guarantee her safety—they could hate both of her dads. Most of the Ascendancy does , even after all they have done to prove themselves worthy of honor.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she says as she gracefully sits beside Thunhe. “But Thanida is a good woman and very old. She doesn’t care for family politics. I’m not sure she ever has.”
“Is she old enough to worry about dying while I stay there?” she asks with a grimace.
Mid sip of her tea, Thalias snorts and chokes. “My stars," she says, wiping her eyes. "I’d hate to hear what you think of my age.”
Thunhe shares her smile. “Yeah, probably.”
“I’ll arrange for one of our ships to take you to her homestead. She lives only three jumps away so it should be a short journey.”
Thunhe nods. It isn’t exactly what she had planned for her summer, but it’s certainly better than pretending to be interested in politics.
~
Thunhe isn’t certain what she was expecting, but it certainly isn’t this. Her ship touches down just outside of a humble stone home and a garden. The surrounding high grass ripples with the engine exhaust and the sun casts an orange hue over the property.
Gathering up her suitcase and backpack, Thunhe steps onto the lowered ramp, followed by her guard detail, and is immediately yanked back inside at the sight of a rifle trained on them.
“Come, Child,” a raspy voice calls. “This rifle ain’t meant for you.”
“Lower your weapon and we’ll release her to your care,” her guard snaps. “Crazy old lady,” he mutters under breath.
“I heard that,” she growls. “I’m as crazy as I am a good shot. Drop the lil’un and get off my land.”
“You don’t have to go,” the guard murmurs to Thunhe. “I can’t believe the Patriarch trusts you with her.”
Thunhe looks at the elder woman, her skin nearly skyblue with age, but her hands steady on the rifle. This woman is used to defending what she loves. “I’m okay,” Thunhe says. “Thanks for the ride,” she tells her guard and steps onto the ramp and into the daylight.
Her guard shakes his head and stalks into the cockpit. Thunhe carefully treads across the grass and steps in front of the woman. “I am Mitth’un’hee. It’s an honor to meet you.”
The woman snorts and lowers her rifle. “You may call me Thanida. Thalias called and said that you have an interest in pottery?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why?”
Thunhe chews her cheek. She has never cared for adults prying into her life, but she recognizes she can’t really tell this lady to shove off either. “If I’m being frank, it’s better than staying on Csilla pretending to be interested in the dealings of the Mitth.”
The woman smiles. “I like you. Come, we have much to do.”
~
Thanida explains as she puts on a pair of rubber boots and tosses another pair to Thunhe, that they must first collect the clay to use. She already has a bundle in reserve, but if Thunhe is here to learn, then she’s going to do all the work—starting from the beginning.
Thunhe doesn’t mind, really. It's not like she has anything else to do, anywhere else to be. Thanida leads her through her property to a river. The water rushes and ripples around them and, pulling her shovel from the pack strapped to her back, Thanida digs into the riverbank. “Clay can be found right here by the river, under the surface soil,” she explains.
Thunhe similarly unshealths her shovel and digs beside her. “Do you always… dig for your own clay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, seems easier to just buy it."
Thanida scoffs. "And everything is all about ease, isn't it?"
Thunhe remains silent at that. In her opinion, yes. Her entire existence has been at the expense of making travel easier. The EDF could travel jump-by-jump but it is easier to keep a navigator on board. She can’t say that, though.
They dig in silence until Thandia repacks her shovel and pulls up her sack of mud. “Come, child.”
“My name is Thunhe,” she says, reshouldering her own pack and following the rather nimble old lady.
“I know.”
Thunhe sighs. She’s been called worse things, she supposes.
~
Dear Da,
I've decided to stay with a Mitth cousin for a while, with Thalias' assistance and approval. It's only the first night here and so far, she seems nice enough. She calls me 'child', but you call me 'Bun’hee', so I guess it's just what happens when an old person sees a cute and innocent young person.
Her place kinda reminds me of the pictures we found of Lysatra that one time. Do you remember when we could curl up together and you would tell me all those stories from your homeworld? I remember, and they are some of my favorite memories of being aboard the Steadfast. Anyway, the fields all around are this golden green color and she has a river that runs right through her property. Her cabin is perfect, too. She has plants and pottery everywhere and it's so much nicer than staying at the stuffy Mitth Estate on Csilla.
Today, we collected clay from the riverbed and sifted it a few times before dinner. I guess we’re going to finish the process tomorrow, I’m actually pretty excited. Don’t tell Thrawn, but I’m hoping to make a cup for him to use. It’s sad that he uses our boring ‘guest’ cups. What do you think he would do if I put #2 Dad on it? I’m only kidding. I think I’m just going to do a pretty speckled glaze like I did for yours.
Love you bunches,
Bun’hee
~
Thunhe jolts awake at the sound of two pans being banged together.
“Daylight’s burning, child! Up and at ‘em!”
Thunhe blinks into the darkness. “What daylight?” she growls.
“Up!” Thanida barks.
Thunhe groans and tosses back her blankets. She dresses quickly in her modest work clothes and shoves her feet into the rubber boots provided yesterday. “ Why are we up so early?” she says as she finishes tucking in her shirt and walking into the kitchen.
Thanida shoves a pack at her. “Come.” She charges out into the backyard, the screen door punctuating her brisk exit.
“That doesn’t answer my question!” Thunhe shouts after her.
Thanida clearly has no intention of turning back. So, with a huff, Thunhe follows.
So much for her morning tea.
~
Thunhe is either decidedly out of shape, or Thanida is part goat—something that isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility, in Thunhe's opinion. Thanida scales the steep hills on the outskirts of her property with such ease that Thunhe is a little embarrassed to be wheezing.
Only when they reach the top of what Thunhe is certain might be a small mountain does Thanida stop and put her hands on her hips. Thunhe sidles up next to her, trying with great difficulty to keep her breathing even.
“Ain’t it beautiful?”
Thunhe follows her gaze. Below them is a dense forest and beyond that is the sky, unpolluted by city lights. The sun is beginning to crest above the horizon, setting the trees below ablaze.
“Yeah,” Thunhe exhales. “It’s gorgeous.”
Beside her, Thanida shucks off her pack. She pulls out a linen blanket from one of the pockets and parachutes it across the dew-covered grass. “I thought we could take our breakfast here,” she says as she works.
Thunhe moves to sit beside her. A sassy retort dances on her tongue, but she swallows it. “Thanks. It’s beautiful out here.”
“My partner loved this view.” She doesn’t elaborate as she pours them each a cup of tea from a thermos. Thunhe is only a little disappointed that it is a floral brew.
“Have they passed on?” Thunhe asks as she accepts the cup.
Thanida nods. “Just a year ago. My heart still aches with the loss of her every day.”
Thunhe thinks of her Da and the sadness that had seemed to settle over him when he though no one was looking and how that sadness evaporates around Thrawn. “How long were you married?” she asks.
Thanida scoffs. “We never married. But we were together for sixty years.”
“Wow.”
She hums and nods.
“Why did you never marry?”
Thanida’s demeanor shifts and Thunhe can imagine her aura flickering with anger. “The Mitth never allowed it.”
“Not even Thalias?”
She smiles softly. “Thalias is a good patriarch. She is making changes that will lead the Ascendancy to greatness, but by the time she took power, Thripa was already dying.”
“May I ask why they wouldn’t allow it?”
“Oh, for many reasons. Thripa used to be a sky-walker like you.”
Thunhe opens her mouth to protest.
“Please,” Thanida interjects. “I know. You are too young to look so sad. My Thripa had the same look.”
“They wouldn’t let you marry because she was a navigator?”
Thanida nods. “The Ascendancy has always been horribly traditional and so blinded by honor. Times were different then and because we couldn’t have natural born kids… It was seen as turning her back on her people because then they thought sky-walkers came from sky-walkers. If you ask me, sky-walkers give enough for their people.”
“My Da says the same,” Thunhe murmurs.
Thanida hums and nods again. “The little brown one?”
Thunhe snorts. “He’d love that one.”
“I’ve never met him, but I’ve seen him in plenty of news articles. He looks small and soft.”
“The only thing soft about him are his hugs.” And even then, his hugs are more like a shelter wrapping around her—strong and reassuring. A hug from Da means she is safe.
“A good quality. I imagine being his daughter is not an easy journey.”
“He isn’t my father—not officially, anyway. Much like you and your wife, we are family in all the ways it really counts.”
The sun has been slowly making its ascent and now it crests above the trees and Thunhe squints at the light.
“I think,” Thanida begins after a long moment. “That is all that truly matters.”
Thunhe nods. “It is.”
Family is neither blood nor name, it is something stronger.
~
Dear Thrawn,
Why did the fish blush?
.
.
.
Because it saw the ocean’s bottom.
Please tell me you at least smiled. Bonus points if you tell Da. Coming from you, he will absolutely lose his mind. Report back to me with your findings.
I’ve been mulling over the paintings you told me to look at and here are my conclusions:
The roiling ocean creates feelings of loss and despair. From that, I think the painter lost her husband. What do you think? I’m not staying at the Mitth Estate anymore so I can’t really go back and look at it.
Miss you,
Thunhe
~
Thanida wets the wheel and puts a ball of clay down on the wet spot. The clay responds easily to her touch, dancing upward into her hands and smoothing at her gentle request.
“You make it look easy,” Thunhe murmurs, scared to break the other woman’s concentration.
“Nothing in life is easy, child,” she says. “There is only experience and action.”
Thunhe shakes her head. Of course. Everything is a life lesson. “Can I try?” she asks.
To her abject horror, Thanida smashes down the piece she was working on and rises from the stool. “It’s already planted and centered. Give it a go.”
Thunhe cautiously lowers herself to the stool.
“Get your hands nice and wet,” Thanida says and motions towards the murky water bucket.
Thunhe does as instructed and corrects her posture at Thanida’s firm adjustments. The clay moves under her fingers, but it doesn’t dance fluidly like it does under Thanida’s guidance.
She struggles and Thanida helps where she can. Eventually, the clay flops over and Thinda cuts the failure from the plate. She slaps it onto the pile of other mistakes.
“Don’t be frustrated,” Thanida says. “Sometimes things need to break to be better.”
~
Dear Da,
Thanida, the lady I’m staying with, said something that really made me think today—sometimes things need to break to be better. I think that almost sums up my whole life. Like, not to be a downer, but I’m always stitching together pieces and parts of me to make one functioning Thunhe.
I miss you.
I hope you and Thrawn are staying in a reasonable amount of trouble. I would say just staying out of trouble entirely, but I know you two.
In other news, my quest to learn pottery continues. I managed to make a bowl today, kinda. It definitely couldn’t have been fired, but it was structurally sound enough to stand on its own on the wheel. I did take a picture of it, so see it attached to this message.
Love you bunches,
Bun’hee
~
Weeks pass by and the time is hardly noticeable. Thunhe enjoys Thanida’s company. Some days, they decide to go fishing and on those days, Thanida makes the most amazing dinners. Whether it is roasted fish or stew, it always leaves Thunhe feeling full and sleepy. And nights that Thunhe has nightmares, which are few, Thanida quietly lets herself into her room and hands her a warm compress for her eyes and a cool glass of water.
There is an old rocking chair in the corner and she sits there until Thunhe falls back asleep. When Thunhe asked Thanida about it, she had said that her wife used to have nightmares as well.
Thunhe didn’t have to ask about what.
Now, she sits in front of the pottery wheel, Thanida hovering over her shoulder.
“I assume you had a project in mind?” she asks.
“Yeah. I want to make my,” she hesitates, “dad a mug.”
Thanida hums. “Didn't you say you already made him one? That it was the pottery project that inspired you to come here?”
Thunhe shakes her head. “No. I mean, yes, but that was for my other dad.”
Thanida is quiet for a long stretch. “You have two dads.”
Thunhe hazards a glance; she knows what the older woman is thinking. “Only in name. Eli is a commodore now. He technically isn’t supposed to have a family.”
Thanida scoffs. “That was always a stupid rule.”
Thunhe hums in agreement. “But his…” His what? They’re friends, but they share a room now. They’re not married, but they love each other like a married couple should. “Partner,” she settles on, using the same word as Thanida, “doesn’t have a mug. So…”
“So you call him dad and want him to also have a mug?”
“Yeah.”
“You are a very good daughter,” Thanida says and claps a rough hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get to work.”
~
Dear Thrawn,
Why did the crab never share?
.
.
.
Because he was shellfish.
Okay, that one was bad, but I hope it made you laugh. Today Thanida and I made crab cakes, so it felt applicable. I studied the recipe, so I’m hoping we can make it when you get back. Make sure Da gets some sleep, we both know how he gets.
Can’t wait to see you,
Thunhe
~
Thunhe beholds the almost-perfect clay cup. The mouth is a little lopsided, but she thinks it will only enhance the cup’s usefulness. Not only can it be used as a drinking cup, but with the slightly pointed side, it is also a good pitcher. Somehow, that feels applicable for a cup that Thrawn will use.
It’s not technically flawless, but it’s perfect.
“Child,” Thanida calls from the doorway of the shop. “There is a call for you in the house.”
“From who?” she asks, perking up. The Protector isn’t scheduled to be back for another few weeks, perhaps they set up a communication triad. Perhaps they’re coming home—
“The Patriarch.”
Thunhe’s hopes are dashed and that part of her, that small sliver of intuition that never truly faded, warns her that something bad is about to happen. She carefully sets the mug on the workbench. “Did it sound like an emergency?”
“I am an old lady,” Thanida says. “I find nothing to be an emergency these days.”
Thunhe sighs—that is the most Thrawn-like answer she has ever heard from someone who was not the man himself. She thanks Thanida for letting her know and makes her way briskly across the back lawn and into the office. Thanida does her bookkeeping here, but also keeps her comm device on a small corner table. Tacked to the wall is a weathered picture of her and her wife. Thunhe looks away and presses the button to accept the call.
“Thunhe,” Thalias’ monochrome form says. “How are you?”
“Fine,” she says. “Is everything okay?”
Thalias’ frown deepens and she sucks in a deep breath. “I’m sorry to tell you this on a call, but I didn’t want you to wake up and read it in the news tomorrow.”
Thunhe’s blood turns to ice. A rock forms in her stomach. Her vision tunnels to just the flickering image of Thalias’ form. “Read what?” she manages, though her voice sounds lightyears away.
“Naporar has lost signal with the Protector .”
“They’re stationed in the outer regions. Without a triad, that’s completely normal,” Thunhe argues mildly. She’s been on those ships, so has Thalias, she knows that communication isn’t steady. Even if they check in with a triad, that doesn’t mean they’ll be able to get a message through, not with how the nebulas can shift and storm.
“They missed their designated check-ins and they were scheduled to arrive at an outer base for restock and refuel. They never made it.”
“No,” Thunhe gasps. She feels like she is underwater, her ears are ringing, her throat is tight. “No,” she repeats.
“Thunhe, I’m so sorry—”
Thunhe slams the disconnect button and falls to her knees. She is unable to cry, unable to breathe. They are fine. They are always fine. She has heard so many tales from their days in the Empire—the close calls and grand adventures.
But this isn’t the Empire and they aren’t fighting puny Human rebels, they are fighting Grysks.
Thanida wraps her arms around her. “Breathe,” she says, voice cool and firm. “Breathe.”
Thunhe turns into her chest and sobs.
~
Thunhe wakes in her bed—her bed at Thanida’s house. Her head pounds from crying all night, but that doesn’t stop her from snatching her questis from her bedside table. She opens the news.
CEDF Warship Protector Lost
Ship Commanded by Human Lost in Space
Human Officer Finally Killed in Action
Ship Harboring Recently-Reinstated Exile and Human Officer Unresponsive
A video autoplays as she scrolls. She knows this pundit, he always has something nasty to say about her Da, but she can’t look away.
“All I can say is good riddance,” the pundit sneers. “The Ascendancy is an honorable system that has been tarnished by this Human’s existence long enough. We will obviously mourn the loss of the Chiss warriors unfortunate enough to serve under him, but—”
The questis is ripped from her fingers.
“None of that,” Thanida says. “We don’t mope in this house.”
“My dads just died ,” Thunhe growls. “I’m allowed to be upset.”
“Perhaps,” she says and Thunhe’s stomach rolls. “But you cannot just lay about, scrolling through the news feeling sorry for yourself. Parents die. It’s what they do. Children have two jobs: carry on their honor and bury them when they pass.”
“What did you do when Thripa died?” Thunhe bites. “Did you move on? Did you forget about her?”
Thanida’s gaze hardens and she leans closer. “No. I lied around, like you want to, feeling sorry for myself, hoping that the world would swallow me whole so I wouldn’t have to walk through the rest of this life without her. Then I thought about what she would want me to do. She wouldn’t want me to waste my life away. She would want me to create, to love, to heal, to protect. So ask yourself, would your dads be pleased with you becoming a root vegetable and wallowing? Or would they want you to take action and do something with yourself?”
Thunhe glares at the woman, but she knows her answer. Her dads, both of them, have lost everything over and over again and neither of them laid down, ready to die. She won’t either.
Slowly, like her feet are stuck in quicksand, she moves to rise. She plants her feet, lines her knees overtop and when she expects them to buckle under the weight of her grief, she stands. Gravity isn’t twice as heavy, the air isn’t any thicker. In fact, the world hasn’t changed at all—but it should have.
“Good, we have work to do,” Thanida says as she turns on her heel. “You’ve already missed breakfast, come.”
Thunhe follows, her steps stilted, but steady. “There’s no point in finishing now.”
Thanida tuts. “An unfinished project is bad luck. Come.”
Thunhe can’t imagine worse luck than losing both of her dads and everything falling apart all at once, but she decides not to risk it.
She follows.
~
It feels like a cruel insult to hold a cup meant for Thrawn’s hands in her own. The mug fired perfectly. The burgundy glaze, poured over the top, blends into the earthy tones at the bottom of the mug and glistens under the flawless clear glaze. It is warm and round, perfect for holding in the palm of his hand like he likes. She can practically smell the spiced tea that has become their favorite. Her favorite.
Thanida comes and places a gentle hand on her elbow. “It’s beautiful.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Thunhe says and tucks it away in her suitcase. “Thank you.”
Thanida tuts. “Are you sure you won’t stay longer?”
Thunhe frowns. As much as she would like to stay, she has a duty, as the daughter of the two greatest minds in the Ascendancy, to carry on. “I can’t,” Thunhe says. “I’m going to go to the Mitth Estate and read through the archives.”
“How riveting.”
“My dads are— were some of the smartest people I know. When times were uncertain they turned to knowledge, to math, to fact. I… have nothing, but myself and what I can learn. I will honor their lives as,” her throat constricts, “as a good daughter should.”
“You will do well,” Thanida squeezes her elbow. “I know this to be true.”
Thunhe nods and shoulders her bag. “Thank you, again.”
“Don’t be a stranger, child.”
~
Thunhe feels numb when she unfolds her yellow blanket and drapes it over her bed at the Mitth Estate. She feels numb when she unpacks Thrawn’s mug and sets it on her bedside table. She feels numb when Thalias pulls her from her reading with a soft knock at her door.
“Hey,” she says with a soft smile. “May I come in?”
Thunhe nods and sets aside her questis. “Is there something you need?” Her tone would have earned her a reprimand from Da, but—
Da isn’t here.
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
“I thought I would stop by to check in on you. Chocolate?” Thalias extends the sweet to her.
“No thank you,” Thunhe chokes out. That candy bar was Thrawn’s favorite, he told her as such during one of their countless conversations during his recovery. She remembers because it was the first personal detail he admitted to honestly and openly.
Thalilas looks around her room. “Wow. Did you make this with Thanida?” She motions to the mug.
Thunhe nods, emotion tightening around her throat like a Grysk hand. “I made it for Thrawn.”
Thalias’ smile drops and she sighs. “It’s quite beautiful.”
Silence lulls between them, and Thunhe finds it admirable that Thalias stays. “I’m sorry I hung up on you, when…”
“No, sweetie, no.” Thalias slips from the edge of the bed and kneels in front of Thunhe at her desk. “You do not need to apologize for that. I am so, so sorry for everything. For all of this. I am sorry.”
Thunhe can’t think of anything to say, so she doesn’t.
~
Thunhe had held out hope that her dads would return—every time she sent a letter, it went through—but it has been two weeks now and she has since quit writing. The numbness still hasn’t faded, and she doesn’t think it ever will. But she carries on. She must. It is what they would do.
“So have you thought of which university you will attend next fall?” Thalias asks over dinner. She sits on the other side of the long dining room table. A chandelier hangs between them and a butler stands in the periphery of the room, waiting to refill their water goblets.
“Taharim,” Thunhe says.
Thalias’ eyebrows furrow. “That’s a naval academy.”
“I will follow in my father’s footsteps,” Thunhe states with finality.
“Eli never went to Taharim,” Thalias says, her face still pinched in confusion.
“I know,” Thunhe says.
~
The forms had been easy enough to find. With her days devoid of any plans or lessons, Thunhe had scoured the archives until she found the name change request documents. They’re not common, most people don’t add or subtract anything from their names, but Thunhe has filled it out with what she wants. She just needs her guardian and patriarch’s signature. Lucky for her, that is one stop shopping.
“I need you to sign this,” Thunhe says, setting down the questis on Thalias’ desk.
The Patriarch picks it up and skims it over. “What is this?”
“A name change request.”
“Why—” Her question falls short when she sees the desired addition to Thunhe’s name. She signs it, on both lines, and hits submit.
“Mitth’unh’eevanto.”
“I am she,” Thunhe says.
“You will receive your new documentation by tomorrow evening via questis. May the name bring you fortune and honor.”
“I know that it will.”
~
Thunhe is sitting in the library of the Mitth Estate when she hears the bang of the double doors below. She sighs, if a careless guard put a hole in the drywall, Thalias will not be happy.
“Sir, you cannot be in here—”
“Like hell I can’t.”
Thunhe’s heart kicks. She would know that summer storm anywhere. But—
“Sir, you are not Mitth. We cannot—”
“I am,” comes a cooler voice.
Thunhe rockets from her chair and charges out of the library. From the second story balcony that overlooks the receiving hall, she sees them—mirrors of each other in black and white, blue and brown. Her Da’s face is ablaze in the infrared, his anger coloring him in shades he can’t see, but everyone else certainly can. Thrawn has carefully positioned himself between the commodore and the Mitth guard.
“Da!” she shouts and races down the steps.
He whips around and takes four quick strides to her.
Their collision nearly knocks the wind from her lungs. She doesn’t care. She clings to him, her fingers bunching up the fabric of his uniform tunic. He hauls her up, holding her like when she is a child. She sobs into his uniform and he just holds her closer, hand braced at the nape of her neck as he hushes her.
“They-said-you-died,” she cries through gasping breaths.
“I know,” he murmurs and sways them back and forth. “I know. It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.”
At the sound of his wet voice, she pulls away. “You’re crying.”
Tears have welled in his deep, dark eyes, but none have yet spilled. “I’m so sorry, Bun’hee.” He pulls her back to his chest. “I am so, so sorry.”
She squeezes him tighter. “I’m okay. Better now.”
He lets out a pained sigh and slowly releases her. She doesn’t stray far, and instead turns to face Thrawn.
He gives her a slight smile. “I received all your letters—”
The rest of his sentence is cut off with an expulsion of air as Thunhe also collides with him. “I’m so glad you’re alive,” she mumbles into his chest.
“It is good to be home,” he says and brings his arms up hesitantly around her.
She perks up and pulls away. “Let’s go home for real. I’m tired of this place—afraid I might break something or breathe the wrong way.”
That earns a huff of amusement from Thrawn and a wet smile from her dad. “Go get your things. I need to talk to Thalias.”
~
Thunhe wakes the next morning at a truly unacceptable time. She breathes in the familiar scent of her bedroom and listens to the familiar hum of the heater. She slips from bed and the wood floor nips at her bare toes. She pads into the hall.
Her dads’ room is right across from hers and she lingers outside for just a moment, listening to their steady breathing.
It is good to be home.
She moves into the dayroom and pulls out the mug from her bag. Sitting on the couch, she runs her fingers over the smooth glaze and lopsided form. It is just as perfect as she remembers it, though this time looking at it brings her joy.
Everything is okay.
A rustle of fabric draws her attention upward.
“You are up early,” Thrawn says. She swears she has never seen anything more comforting than him and his rumpled sleep clothes and his neat hair a little askew.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she says, which is partly true. She wasn’t having nightmares, but she couldn’t sleep any longer. She’s certain they’ll go back to driving her insane soon enough, but for now she wants to cherish every waking moment with them.
“Tea?” he asks, making his way to the kitchen.
“Please.” She stands from the couch and sits at her spot. “This is for you,” she gives him the cup when he finishes setting up the kettle.
He accepts, reverently handling the mug. “This is handmade,” he says.
“Can you tell me about the artist?” she asks, resting her chin in her hands.
He hums and turns the mug over in his hands. “The artist is not an expert in this medium, but is knowledgeable or perhaps had access to a mentor with great knowledge.”
Thunhe nods.
He is silent for a moment longer while he considers. “The design accommodates for the user to hold the cup against their palm.”
“Like you do.”
He hums again. “Similarly, it is made for someone with larger hands, as seen by the distance between the handle and the mug itself.”
She nods in agreement.
“The artist is likely a woman who made this for a man—perhaps a man of great importance given the care and talent to smooth the edges and…” he trails off, his eyes floating up to her. “You made this.”
“I did.”
He blinks and licks his lips. “Why?”
“Well, I thought it was poor form for only one of my dads to have a designated morning mug.”
His eyes widen and his breath comes out in a little huff. Behind him, the kettle chimes. “The tea is done,” he states and turns his back to her.
She graciously accepts her yellow mug when he hands it to her and watches with great pleasure when Thrawn holds his mug closer, like his leeching the warmth from it.
“There is something I wish to discuss with you,” Thrawn says after his first sip.
“Okay.”
“Whoever told Thalias that we had not checked-in breached protocol in doing so. Actions such as these can put the fleet at risk—more so as we were traveling jump-by-jump.”
Limping is the more apt word for their journey home. Not only had their ship suffered major damages, the loss of their communications array being one of them, but their sky-walker had also lost her sight mid-flight. They nearly collided with an asteroid and their journey home from the far reaches had then been spent gambling system after system, jump after jump.
“I see,” Thunhe says and takes a sip of her tea.
“When there are communication blackouts, such as what we experienced, next of kin are notified by EDF officials before all else. However, as a commodore, Eli cannot list a next of kin.”
“But you can,” Thunhe murmurs, catching onto his logic easily enough.
He nods. “As next of kin, you will be notified before any political officials. Additionally, from my research, little will change as we are both Mitth. We would only need Thalias’ approval, which I am sure with Eli’s blessing…” he trails off, suddenly looking very uncertain of himself.
“You would do that?” she whispers. “You would adopt me? Officially?”
His eyebrows arch slightly, as if surprised. “Of course.”
She leaps from the stool and throws her arms around his middle—he is far too tall to aim for his neck, like she does with Da.
Cautiously, he brings his arms around her. He doesn’t squeeze her, but she squeezes him enough to make up for it.
“What happens when you get promoted?” she asks as she pulls away.
“That is unlikely,” he says. “But if it happens, as your father says, ‘ we will cross that bridge when we get there’ .” The last part is said in Basic and she giggles. She can hear her Da saying that.
“Also,” he says. “I have a report for you.”
“For me?”
“I told Eli the fish joke.”
“Wait. Really? What did he say?”
Thrawn smirks and moves his cup to hide it. “He, as you said, 'lost his mind'."
"What did he say?" Thunhe prompts.
Thrawn takes a sip of his tea. "He laughed so hard he snorted.”
“Yes!” Thunhe cheers and slaps her hand over her mouth, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder. She doesn’t want to wake Da up so early, but she also wouldn’t feel too bad if he did emerge looking all sleepy and rumpled like Thrawn. “I can’t believe he snorted ,” she whispers.
“It was rather comical,” Thrawn concedes with his own smile.
Silence lulls between them, warm and comfortable as they drink their tea.
“Thunhe?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you, for thinking of me,” he says, looking down at his cup.
“Sure thing, Dad.”