It was beautiful. For the first time in over a century, Kir actually [I]felt[/I] free. Truly free. Despite the best efforts of the empire, X’hondria lived on in her people. Though they hid in the shadows for now, they hadn’t forgotten their home or their traditions. She felt [I]alive[/I] again. It was a joyful experience she hadn’t expected to ever have again.

She could feel the quiet sadness roll off of Harrison as he watched the crowd. It was understandable, and although she didn’t let it dampen her mood, she also didn’t dismiss it. He was so far from home in territory yet uncharted by human beings. She understood it was overwhelming to both miss the place you came from and all the memories, and also look to the stars with all the new opportunities they offered in wonder and excitement. 

The melancholy seemed to lift from him when Kir beckoned him to join her. It hadn’t yet dawned on her that he would know all the same dances she did; she had expected to guide him through it with laughter and stepped-on toes. She had given him every experience, every shred of knowledge she had from her long life, and he had become X’hondrian in everything but birthright. He stumbled at first, of course, because although the muscle memory was there, it wasn’t hit and it took a moment to integrate. Kir made simpler, more deliberate movements to ease him in until his body caught up to his mind. 

“You’re a better dancer than I expected,” Kir teased with a playful smile. 

Meanwhile, Zev looked on in both pride and disappointment. Lyris joined him, voicing the very sentiment that echoed in his mind. It was all a beautiful display, but Kir and Harrison at the centre of it was as clear a sign as any. There was no separating those two; they were bonded for life. 

“Yeah, I gathered as much,” Zev replied, trying not to sound dejected. He’d helped get her here, back to her people and to a place that could help her heal from years of neglect. This was all good - he knew that - but it was still hard to let the most impressive, ethereal being he’d ever had the pleasure to know slip through his fingers. “As long as she’s happy and safe, it doesn't really matter who she loves. She’s too special to mope about. I still get to be her pilot, and that’s something no one else in this burgeoning revolution gets to say.” 

If nothing else, Zev took pride in his work, and if it meant he got to be a part of dismantling the worst empire the galaxy had ever seen, then that was something truly special. The thought was already rolling around in his head: what next? Kir had promised to free Serenfolia first, but how were four grossly under-equipped outlaws supposed to free an entire planet? They hadn’t exactly talked about it, and there was no way they could just bust down the doors and demand freedom. The empire would just cut them down and go back to business as usual. 

His spiralling mind was interrupted by Harrison and Kir rejoining them from the dance floor. The song had ended, and they had stepped away to greet their friends. 

Kir was practically beaming. A wide, happy smile curled from ear to ear, “It almost feels like home. Ka’ilit willing, we’ll dance under the black sun again soon. Tomorrow the real work begins, but let’s just enjoy tonight first. There will be many long, difficult days ahead, I think.” 

Zev let out a chuckle in disbelief. She always seemed to know just what to say, and when she snuck him a little wink he knew it was because she’d felt his anxiety rise. It wasn’t invasive, it was just the empathy of a good leader, maybe even a great one. The fact that he’d doubted her for even a moment now seemed silly. 

A new drumbeat started, one that was older than X’hondria itself, from before the sister tribes had been split escaping their dying homeworld. Kir seemed to light up even brighter and dropped Harrison’s hand to grab Lyris’ arm. 

“Let’s show the boys how it’s really done!” She gleefully exclaimed as she dragged Lyris to the dance floor.