Chapter Text
? ABY - Unknown Regions
Thrawn had lost a great deal in the recent years.
His home.
The words still echoed somewhere in the back of his mind, refusing to settle into the past. Leaving the Ascendancy had been his decision. His exile had been calculated, necessary. He had accepted the consequences because it offered his people a better chance of surviving what was coming. He had left colleagues behind. Friends. A life he had spent years building.
It had been the correct decision. It had always been the correct decision. At least, that was what he had told himself.
The destination had been the Empire. Against considerable odds, he had succeeded there as well. He had risen through its ranks until he wore the title of Grand Admiral, a position that should have been unattainable for an outsider. Thrawn had never mistaken the title for an achievement in itself. Rank was useful because it provided influence, and influence could be directed toward a purpose.
He had argued against the Death Star. He had warned them. Had attempted to redirect resources toward more practical weapons, had established his own TIE Defender program, had pointed out repeatedly that the Empire's willingness to sacrifice pilots was strategically wasteful. None of it had been enough.
The Death Star had been built, then destroyed. Another failure.
His crew was gone as well. He did not know whether they had survived. That uncertainty was worse than a confirmed loss. The Jedi had not survived the crash. Thrawn remembered that much. He remembered the creature's tentacles tightening around him, remembered the pressure against already damaged bones, remembered being held in place while the Jedi spoke words he had never fully understood.
A sacrifice. An unnecessary one. The thought should have brought satisfaction. The boy had given his life to ensure Thrawn wouldn’t be able to continue the fight. Instead, something resembling grief surfaced whenever he remembered him.
Thrawn disliked that. Grief was inefficient.
His credibility was gone. If he ever returned to the Ascendancy, what could he offer them? A failed commander. A strategist who had gambled with forces he had not completely understood. A man who had entered the Empire believing he could influence it from within, only to discover that the Emperor himself had been playing a considerably larger game.
He had gambled.
He had lost.
Thrawn shook his head. His long hair shifted across his shoulders. The movement pulled unpleasantly against irritated skin. He went still. The pain remained. An infection, perhaps. His temperature had risen again. He had noticed it earlier, though he could no longer remember precisely when. Earlier today? Yesterday?
He frowned. No. That was not useful. His thoughts were becoming disordered. Normally, they moved in a straight progression. Observation. Analysis. Conclusion. Action. Now they scattered.
Temperature. The crash. The Death Star. His crew. The Ascendancy. Eli—Thrawn stopped. He stared at the floor. The name had appeared without invitation, disconnected from everything else. He pushed it aside.
His ribs protested when he drew a deeper breath. Several had been broken during the crash, and they had never received the opportunity to heal properly. His body had been occupied with too many other injuries. There had been no time for recovery.
No time. He disliked that thought too. Time had become unreliable here.
He looked at his hands. The restraints were still fastened around his wrists, the metal cuffs lying against his lap.
Freedom was another thing that had been taken from him. He exhaled slowly. There was a camera in the upper right corner of the room. He knew exactly where it was. He had mapped the cell during his first days here, cataloguing every visible feature, every seam in the walls, every possible weakness. There were no weaknesses, only observation.
He knew when they watched him, believed he slept and when the guards changed. At least, he thought he did. The thought irritated him.
Thrawn shifted until his back rested against the icy wall. The stone beneath him was equally cold. The sensation was strangely grounding, although his body was beginning to shiver. Too cold. No. His temperature was too high. Both could be true.
That realization should have been obvious. Instead, it took several seconds to organize itself.
He closed his eyes. He had not lost his mind. That mattered. Whatever else had been taken from him, that remained. His mind was still his own. He repeated the thought silently.
Once. Twice. It sounded less convincing the second time. There was nowhere for him to go.
The Empire would likely execute him if they discovered he was alive. The Rebellion would have little reason to spare an Imperial Grand Admiral. The Ascendancy had exiled him once already, and even if they were willing to accept him again, what would he return with?
Failure.
The Unknown Regions offered no refuge either. The Grysk had spread too far. Systems had fallen. Populations had vanished.
The Grysk. His thoughts caught on the word. They had taken the remainder. His freedom, crew, sense of time and health. Piece by piece. Not all at once. That would have been easier. Instead, they had taken something different every day until Thrawn could no longer identify where one loss ended and another began.
He opened his eyes. The cell looked exactly as it had moments before. Small. Cold. Silent. He had lived here for months. Probably. He could not be certain. That uncertainty bothered him more than the walls did. He had always relied upon patterns. Duration. Routine. Predictability. Even captivity could be understood if its parameters were known.
The Grysk had removed the parameters. They had taken even the reassurance of knowing how long he had been suffering.
Thrawn looked down at his hands again. His fingers were trembling. He curled them into fists until they stopped.
A failure. The conclusion returned with uncomfortable ease. He had miscalculated. He had believed himself capable of understanding the game. He had not understood the player. How did one account for a Sith Lord who had deceived an entire galaxy? There was no strategy for an opponent who refused to reveal the boundaries of the board.
Thrawn's head lowered. His thoughts moved again, faster now. The Ascendancy, the Empire, the Chimaera, his crew and the Jedi. Eli—
He forced his eyes shut. No. Not him. Not here. There was no reason to think of him. There was no reason to remember another presence beside him, or a voice that had once made even silence feel less empty. Those memories belonged to another life.
A life that was over. Thrawn had gambled. He had lost and he could not go home.