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“- aaAAAGGHoof!”
There is an almighty crash; Zeb feels the roof of the tall tower give way beneath his weight just before he, too, tumbles down. This was not the ideal way to get into the Princess’s room, but he’s here now: even through the narrow holes of this stupid helmet, and even as the dust clears, he notices the distinctive shape of a four-poster bed, a mirror, a spinning wheel… Classic Princess shit. He’s at least on the right track.
Zeb dusts himself off, coughing; luckily, his heavy armour protected him from the worst of the fall. He should be more careful. He doesn’t want to scare the sweet, delicate, little -
“Who the hell are you?” asks a distinctly masculine voice.
Zeb pulls aside the curtains of the four-poster bed. There is a Human there. Zeb may not know much about Humans, but he’s pretty sure this one is fairly masculine in build and appearance. They sit with their back against the headboard with a book in their hands, looking somewhat bemused at Zeb’s destructive entrance. They have a very distinctive style of facial hair – who wears mutton chops in this day and age? On the other hand, they are wearing a black, high-collared dress with black lace gloves and a delicate little golden tiara on their neatly combed blond hair.
“Uh…” says Zeb. “I’m here to save a Princess?”
The Human blinks at him. “Oh, a knight. Well, you’ve come to the right place. You may address me as Kallus. I am the one you’re here to save.”
“...you’re, uh…?”
“A man. Is that a problem?”
Zeb groans and rubs the back of his helmet. “Karabast. Lord Thrawn’s gonna be pissed. He was definitely lookin’ fer a young lady, if ya get my gist.”
“Wait -” Kallus holds up a hand – “you’re not saving me for your own sake?”
“Eh, it’s a hero-fer-hire kinda deal.” Zeb folds his arms. “Lord Thrawn can’t be bothered to do the dirty work himself, so, he paid us. Half upfront, and half on delivery of his new bride.” He gives Kallus a speculative look. “I guess we could just put ya inna veil until the big day.”
Kallus arches one brow. “That’s not how this works, you know. Only someone capable of warming my frozen heart may undo the curse. You can’t just rescue me and then hand me off to some random stranger, that wouldn’t fulfil the prophecy.”
Karabast. Zeb isn’t getting paid enough for this shit. He stares at Kallus for a few moments, sighs, and then picks up Kallus and slings them over his shoulder.
“Whoa, hey -!” Kallus hammers against Zeb’s back with their fists. “Unhand me you – you oaf!”
“Sorry, Princess,” replies Zeb, as he breaks down the door that leads to the long flight of stairs down to the main body of the castle. “Guy’s gotta do what he gotta do.”
“Wait!” Suddenly, Kallus twists round and points. “My staff!”
Zeb turns his head in the direction Kallus is pointing: there is a staff there, one that looks suspiciously like his own bo-rifle.
“What d’ya need a staff for?”
“Self protection,” snarks Kallus. “Maybe I’ll need to fend off the amorous affections of your stupid Lord.”
Zeb grunts. “He’s not my Lord. He’s just the guy who’s payin’ me.” Still, he goes to pick up the staff, though he keeps it out of Kallus’ hands for now. “Anything else ya want while I’m here? Sentimental possessions, things like that?”
“Well, actually -”
“Tough, cause we ain’t stoppin’ fer ‘em.”
Kallus keeps struggling, fruitlessly, trapped in Zeb’s tight hold as Zeb starts down the stairs, and eventually gives up.
“This is just my luck,” they moan. “Cursed, trapped in a tower for most of my life, and now rescued by some brainless hunk of selfish money-loving – ugh! And I’m supposed to be pawned off to some Lord who won’t even have the decency to rescue me himself, and -”
“Karabast, will ya shut yer trap? I’m rescuin’ ya, ain’t I?” Zeb grumbles.
Kallus grunts in frustration. “It’s not that I am ungrateful, but this isn’t exactly what I had in mind. You are a rather unorthodox knight. But I suppose you are freeing me from a life of captivity, and with the dragon dead -”
There is a roar from somewhere in the castle. Zeb picks up his pace.
“You… did kill the dragon, didn’t you, Sir Knight?” gulps Kallus.
Zeb growls. “It’s on my to-do list!”
“You were prophesied to kill it!”
“Don’t give me that prophecy bull again.” Zeb stumbles down the last few steps and into the wide hall that is the main body of the castle. There are a lot of bodies here. A lot of bodies.
Before he can dwell on it too much, Ezra comes dashing in, hooves clattering loudly over the stone floor. “There you are! I was looking for you all over!”
“Did that donkey just talk?” sputters Kallus.
Zeb grunts: now that he’s on even ground, he starts to run. “The real trick is getting’ him ta shut up.” And, to Ezra: “Come on, I found the Princess, let’s get outta here.”
Ezra gallops to keep up. “But what about the dragon?”
“What about the dragon?” agrees Kallus. “It would just be easier to get out of here if we weren’t running for our lives!”
“You’re not the one runnin’, mate.” There is an angry roar behind them, just as Zeb passes through the castle’s main doors and out onto the very rickety bridge. “Karabast!”
“Karabast, karabast,” mutters Kallus. “What does that even mean?”
Zeb picks up Ezra and runs, dashing at full speed across the bridge. “Right now it means yer a lot heavier than ya look!”
The white dragon bursts out of the castle behind them, shaking the bridge; Zeb nearly loses his footing and sends them all hurtling down into the liquid nitrogen below. He regains his balance – Lasat feet are very useful for gripping – and measures the distance between himself and the far end of the bridge. Not too far. Just a little further. As long as the dragon isn’t smart enough to -
There is the distinctive twang of a rope, and the bridge sways wildly.
“It’s trying to cut down the bridge!” yells Kallus. “We’re all going to die!”
Zeb takes a breath. With a great effort, he throws Ezra, yelling, up over the lip of the frozen volcano, hopefully to land safely on the solid ground on the other side, and prepares to do the same to Kallus.
“Oh, you can’t be serious,” groans Kallus, when they realise what Zeb is doing. “You can’t treat a princess this wa-aaaagggh!”
Zeb watches them fly over the ridge, all wind-milling arms and fluttering black skirts, and then tosses over Kallus’ staff for good measure. Once he’s free of all hindrances, he tenses on his haunches. One, two -
The bridge breaks completely. Zeb launches himself into the air just in time, reaching out with his hands for the lip of the ridge: as soon as his hands make contact, his claws dig in, gripping tight. He won’t be able to hold himself up for long this way; it’s going to be tough to pull himself up from here. Thank god that bugger of a dragon can’t fly. He’d be in a lot more trouble if it could.
Kallus peeks over the edge of the ridge. Their expression becomes conflicted, and then they disappear again. Great. So they’re just going to leave Zeb to die. And Ezra isn’t going to be much help either, with his weak donkey body. Zeb scrabbles with his feet, trying to find a way to climb up, but doesn’t have much luck.
Then, Kallus reappears, holding the staff Zeb fetched. Carefully, they lower it down so that the end is close to Zeb’s face.
“What,” sneers Zeb, “ya gonna push me down? Ain’t I suffered enough?”
“Grab on,” Kallus insists. “Let me rescue you this time.”
Huh. Well, Zeb isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He grabs hold; Kallus heaves him up with a surprising amount of upper body strength for a meagre Human who’s been locked in a tower their whole life. At last, Zeb collapses in a heap on the solid ground on the other side of the ridge, panting.
“Let’s,” he gasps, “never do that again.”
“Agreed,” replies Ezra, sitting heavily on his haunches.
Kallus sniffs. They’re sitting up against a large boulder, nursing one leg: it’s looking distinctly not good. It must have broken when Zeb threw them. Zeb gets up, knowing he’ll be bruised and sore tomorrow, and picks up Kallus’ staff.
“Mind if I use this fer a splint, milady?”
Kallus eyes it. “If you must.” They begins to tear strips from their long skirts. “Here.”
“Uh…” Ezra watches them both with a doubtful expression. “Zeb?”
Zeb looks up from binding Kallus’ stockinged leg. “What?”
“Well, I don’t know whether you’ve noticed, on account of the whole not being a Human thing, but…” Ezra tips his head. “Your Princess is, uh…”
Kallus sticks their nose in the air. “A man can be a Princess if he so chooses.”
“A pillow princess, maybe,” Ezra snorts.
“Hey.” Zeb cuffs him round the back of the head. “Don’t be an ass, donkey.” And then: “Aren’t you, like, twelve? How do you even know what a pillow princess is?”
“First of all, I’m fifteen, second of all, you think I don’t have access to porn? I’m fifteen!”
Zeb stares at him. “But… you’re a donkey.”
Ezra is unrepentant. “You haven’t seem some of the kinky donkey porn out there.”
“Ew.” Zeb makes a face. “Too much information.”
“You asked.”
“Anyway,” says Zeb, a little louder than necessary. He raises an eyebrow at Kallus, sitting and watching the two of them argue. “Sorry ‘bout that, Princess, I know you ain’t used ta rough lowlifes like us. Ya’ll have ta excuse our coarseness.”
Kallus harrumphs and folds his arms. “For your information, donkey, I am primarily a top.”
There is a beat of silence before both Ezra and Zeb splutter in shock. “What.”
Zeb presses a palm against his helmet. “Lord Thrawn is gonna be really pissed.”
“Maybe he’s into that?” tries Ezra hopefully.
“If he isn’t,” sneers Kallus, “it’ll be his own fault for picking a bride without meeting him.” He clears his throat. “Anyway. Good Sir Knight, may I have the privilege of seeing the face of the one who rescued me?”
Zeb blinks. “Huh? Ya talkin’ ta me? Uh…” He swallows. “Look, I ain’t much of a pretty picture. I’m basically a Princess delivery boy, right? Ya don’t really need ta see my face.”
“Yeah,” agrees Ezra unhelpfully, “and he smells, too.”
“Hey!”
Kallus raises both eyebrows. “I should still like to see you, even if you are horrifically disfigured.”
“Mm… well, alright then.” Zeb lays his hands on his helmet. “Don’t freak out, okay?”
“Why would I…?”
Zeb takes off his helmet.
“You’re a Lasat!” Kallus snarls. “I should have known.”
“I told ya not ta freak out.”
Kallus bunches his fists. “I am cursed because of your species!”
“My species is extinct!” Zeb bares his teeth. “Some arsehole Royals saw fit to wipe us out, an’ I’m the only one left! And here’s you, livin’ the life a luxury in a tower with all yer needs met, that don’t sound like too much of a curse ta me!”
Kallus glowers. “My curse is… more than that. Besides, there was the small matter of the dragon trapping me in that tower so that I couldn’t leave.” He huffs. “Well, anyway, that settles it. I’m not going with you. Not in a million years. I would rather – aaagh!”
“Tough titties, Princess.” Zeb ignores Kallus beating at his armoured back with his fists with a clank-clank-clank again. “Lasat or no, I gotta pile a gold ta collect.”
They make pretty good time back through the plains and low hills that lead to the Chiss Ascendency. Eventually, Kallus gives up on trying to hurt Zeb through his armour; for a while, he tries complaining about everything under the sun, but both Zeb and Ezra tune him out for long enough that he seems to realise that’s not an option either.
“Well,” decides Zeb as the afternoon begins to wane, “we should probably find somewhere ta make camp, huh?”
“You mean…” asks Kallus, in a polite but slightly terrified tone, “we aren’t going to make it to Lord Thrawn’s domain today?”
Zeb shrugs. “We still gotta get through the forest. I’d say it’s another day or so at least till we get ta the Chiss Ascendancy.”
“Then I need a shelter,” demands Kallus immediately. “Now.”
“What’s the matter, Princess,” teases Zeb, “scared of the dark?”
Kallus flinches. “I just… would prefer to sleep in private, please.”
“Ooh, la-di-dah, Yer Majesty, I didn’t realise you wanted the full treatment.” Zeb scans the area: he can see a hill over a small rise that, if he remembers correctly, does have a convenient system of relatively dry caves. “Well, yer in luck. ‘Bout half an hour an’ we should find the perfect place fer ya.”
So, that’s where they go. Kallus spends his time constructing a door with leaves and branches to cover the mouth of the cave that Zeb so generously finds him: meanwhile, Zeb hunts a few small animals and builds a fire to cook them with. Ezra is on guard duty – both against whatever enemies are out here, and in case Kallus gets any funny ideas in his head about escaping.
They eat together in silence, sitting around the fire; Kallus keeps glancing nervously towards the sun as it slips closer to the horizon. Once he’s finished his food, he scurries away into his cave, shutting the door firmly behind him.
“What’s up with him?” wonders Ezra aloud.
“Who knows?” shrugs Zeb. “Princesses are weird. If I never see another one in my life, it’ll be too soon.”
Ezra yawns and curls up as best he can with his donkey body. “That’s probably just Kallus, dude. He’s the weirdest Princess I’ve ever met.”
“Ya haven’t met any other Princesses. Have ya?”
“No, but I see other ones in my dreams…”
“Good night, Ezra.”
Zeb wakes up to a delicious smell. It’s daylight; Kallus is kneeling by the fire, cooking eggs over a hot stone. Beside him, Ezra stirs, ears pricking up.
“Mornin’,” remarks Zeb, a little guarded.
“Good morning.” Kallus looks up at both of them. “We got off to a bad start yesterday. I’d… like to make it up to you.”
Zeb blinks. “Well, I won’t say no ta eggs. Where’s this change of heart come from?”
“I suppose I just needed a good night’s sleep,” shrugs Kallus. “And I sleep much better if I’m alone, so… thank you. For being so accommodating.”
“Huh.” Zeb accepts the leaf that Kallus passes him with two perfectly-fried eggs. “That’ll probably make it hard fer ya ta be married ta anyone, yannow, especially Thrawn.”
Kallus rolls his eyes. “Well, naturally I would make an exception for His Lordship, should he have me as his bride. Though, as you have remarked, I highly doubt I’ll be to his taste anyway.”
Zeb chews and swallows a mouthful of egg. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come ta it.” And then: “This is delicious.”
“It’s just eggs.”
“Still. Don’t get much good food where I come from.”
“The meal you made last night was…” Kallus bites his lip. “Not unpleasant.”
“Hm. That’s the closest thing ta a complement ya’ve said.” Zeb grins. “I’ll take it.”
Ezra snorts. “You’re not gonna get any other complements looking like that.”
“Hey! I resent that! I’m pretty fucking handsome by Lasat standards!”
And so, bickering companionably, they continue on their way. Thankfully, Kallus seems to have decided to cooperate at last, so Zeb doesn’t have to carry him; he limps along beside them uncomplaining even as they enter the Forest with its more uneven paths.
“Good Sir Knight,” he begins, “in all the chaos of yesterday I completely neglected to ask your name. The Donkey’s name I know is Ezra. But yours…?”
“First of all, I ain’t exactly a Sir,” replies Zeb. “I ain’t a knight. Ya can just call me Zeb.”
Kallus hums. “If you aren’t a knight, then – if I may ask, how did you get into the, ah, Princess rescuing business?”
Zeb scoffs. “Needed the money, didn’t I? Always the kriffin’ money.”
“We got thrown into a swamp,” Ezra butts in. “Lord Thrawn pushed us out of our homes into the nastiest place he could and told us we owed him rent for staying on his land and he’d kill all of us if we didn’t cooperate. Me and Zeb went to Duloc to talk to him and that’s when Thrawn gave us this job to do! It pays all our debts and more!”
“I see,” replies Kallus, glancing sidelong at Zeb. “If I’m not mistaken, Lasats come from the Queendom of Lasan as was, correct?”
Zeb snarls. “As was, yeah. That’s one way a sayin’ it got flattened by the invading Kingdom of Far Far Away.”
“I know.” When both Zeb and Ezra stare at him, he turns away. “You never thought to check what kingdom the Princess you were rescuing came from? I am the rightful heir to Far Far Away. I rode with the troops out to face the armies of Lasan on that fateful day, and I gave the order to charge.”
“In a dress?” blurts out Ezra.
“In a dress,” confirms Kallus. “And armour. Beautiful armour befitting a Princess.”
Between the two of them, Zeb growls lowly. “I fought that day too, yannow, and I’ll tell ya fer free: yer a right bastard. I don’t care if yer a Princess, you an’ yer Kingdom left me the last survivor of my people. Left me livin’ on a swamp with all the other outcasts. How can ya stand there, knowing ya caused that kinda suffering?”
Kallus takes a deep breath. “It wasn’t meant to be a massacre. It was only meant to be a battle. But my father the King kept pushing and pushing until… until…”
“Until there was nunna us left,” snarls Zeb. “Ya said yerself, ya were the heir ta the throne. Ya never said ta him, that’s enough? Ya never thought to even try? Ya never thought it was wrong?”
“I did! All of that!” Kallus rubs his chest. “He locked me in a tower to rot for my trouble.” And then: “I don’t recall seeing you there, anyway.”
“Yeah, well, we all had helmets on and whatnot,” scowls Zeb. “An’ I bet us Lasats all look the same ta ya, an’ all.”
Kallus tsks and turns away; for a while they all walk on in mutually angry silence. Even Ezra, normally so chatty, has his large donkey ears tucked close against his skull and doesn’t say a word.
Eventually, Kallus opens his damn mouth again: “Do you want to know why my father the King was so insistent on attacking Lasan in the first place?”
“Not particularly,” Zeb replies, irritated. “Politics, or somethin’. Wanted more land, I bet.”
“Because of what a Lasat did to me.” Kallus waits for this to sink in. “Many years ago, there were agitators in the land called Onderon who wished to dethrone my father completely. I volunteered to go make peace, as my first action as Princess. But there was an ambush, a genie that caused a magical whirlwind. Most of my platoon perished, and the rest were injured. I myself was trapped under debris and unable to move.”
“And then,” he continues, “a Lasat came in while we were incapacitated and killed the rest where they lay, one by one. When he came to me – I don’t know what he was thinking. He could have killed me, or at least kidnapped me. I don’t know why he didn’t. He simply left me there, gravely injured, until one of my father’s messengers found me. My father swore revenge on Lasan. He saw my treatment as a grave insult.”
Zeb inhales slowly and replies: “Ya can’t punish a whole Queendom for the actions of one guy who was in a different fucking place.”
“I know,” says Kallus. “I know.”
A scoff. “You an’ Thrawn deserve each other. Both crushing the weak an’ innocent beneath yer feet.”
Kallus does not even look up. “What is this Lord Thrawn like, anyway? I’ve never so much as seen his face.”
Zeb and Ezra look at each other and snort.
“Let’s just say,” says Zeb, “he’s been very blue without a wife.”
Ezra cackles. “Yeah, yeah, and I think he was in the Navy for a while.”
“If we’re late,” Zeb chuckles, “he’ll probably be indigo-nent.”
“He might even shed a teal.” Ezra’s laugh turns into a full donkey hee-haw.
Kallus stops in front of them and holds up his hands. “Gentlemen, please. You are speaking of my betrothed. Have a little respect.”
“Are ya azure about that?” grins Zeb. “I mean, kinda sucks ta marry a guy ya ain’t ever met.”
Kallus turns away, shoulders slumped, and keeps limping on. “Had things happened differently, my father would probably have arranged a marriage for me anyway. Perhaps even to Thrawn, I don’t know. A political marriage to strengthen the Kingdom. That is the fate of a Princess, unless we’re very lucky. I was hoping I’d get the chance to marry for love. But we cannot always get what we want.”
The three of them trudge on through the forest for a few moments, glum. Zeb clears his throat.
“Chin up,” he tries. “Ya’ll always have a roof over yer head, three meals a day, the finest dresses and jewels his Lordship can buy. You could have baths every single day if ya wanted. Ya’ll never want fer anythin’. Meanwhile we’ll be scrapin’ by in a swamp covered in muck an’ dyin’ a plague an’ whatnot.”
“I’d rather the swamp.” Kallus looks back at them over his shoulder. “At least you’re free to do whatever you want, marry whomever you want.”
Zeb rolls his eyes. “Do whatever we can afford, more like. Ain’t much.”
With a sigh, Kallus steps into a pleasant clearing ahead of them. “I will ensure that Lord Thrawn compensates you handsomely for your efforts rescuing me.”
And then, out of nowhere, a blur of brown and grey swings down out of the trees, grabbing Kallus and pulling him up into the branches.
“Karabast,” curses Zeb. “Princess!”
The rogue grins at Kallus. “Aha! A Princess, eh? Well, it is your lucky day, for I am rescuing you from these uncouth brutes!” He points to Zeb and Ezra.
Kallus raises an eyebrow. “Two rescues in two days. How thrilling. Who, pray tell, are you?”
“Oh, how rude of me, I did not introduce myself.” The rogue doffs his cap. “Hondo Ohnaka, at your service. And these -” a group of leering scoundrels leap out of the bushes, brandishing swords and other weapons at Zeb and Ezra – “are my Merry Men!”
Zeb takes out his bo-rifle. “We don’t gotta do this, Ohnaka. Just let ‘im go, an’ we can all go on our way with no casualties, yeah?”
Hondo tuts. “Now, now, my dear Garazeb Orrelios, I know that you know that is not how things work in this region of the forest!”
“Can’t we offer you a trade?” asks Ezra.
“Oh, Ezra Bridger! I didn’t recognise you as a donkey.” Hondo shakes his head. “Still, I’m afraid not.” He looks Kallus up and down. “This specimen, I think, is a little too… valuable to part with for anything that you could trade me. So sorry. But I will be sure to give you, mm, twenty per cent of the cut of the reward, eh? Can’t say fairer than that.”
In the background, Zeb notices, Kallus has been fiddling with his splint. Hardly the time to be thinking about his injured leg, and yet… wait. Zeb used Kallus’ staff as a splint. In the blink of an eye, Kallus has torn the staff splinting his leg out of its bindings and unfurled it into a full bo-rifle. Before Zeb can react, Kallus whirls into action, stabbing the electric tip of the bo-rifle into Hondo’s stomach before jumping down.
The thieves, thrown into disarray now that their leader is down, are slow to react, turning to surround Kallus as best they can. Kallus looks around, takes a breath, and leaps – battering each pirate into submission with the kind of finesse and accuracy that takes years to achieve. Zeb doesn’t need more of a hint than that: he joins in, dealing out blows left and right to fight off Hondo’s crew. Even Ezra, Hondo’s erstwhile friend, gets a few powerful donkey-kicks in.
At last, the three of them are the last left standing, with the various thieves and scoundrels laying where they fell, groaning, draped over bushes and stuck halfway up trees.
“That,” pants Ezra, “was awesome! Kallus, where’d you learn to fight like that!”
Kallus curtseys. “One gets bored waiting in a tower for years on end. When one lives alone, one must learn these things.”
But Zeb has finally processed the weapon that Kallus has been using. “Only an Honour Guard of Lasan can wield a bo-rifle!”
Kallus rolls his eyes. “You’re welcome.”
“That thing,” snarls Zeb, pulling it out of his hands, “is not a trophy. You got no right to -”
“I did not take it as a trophy.” Kallus pulls the bo-rifle back. “I was given it by an Honour Guard during the battle of Lasan.”
“Uhh, guys?”
“Ezra, this don’t concern ya.” Zeb doesn’t take his eyes off Kallus. “Gave it to ya? Ya don’t mean – they can’t have -”
Kallus bows his head. “I fought them one-on-one. Giving me this was the last thing they did.”
“The Boosahn Keeraw,” breathes Zeb. “That’s a real sacred ritual, that. When we are defeated honourably in battle…” He steps back, relinquishing his hold on the weapon to Kallus. “I didn’t know.”
“I misjudged your character, too,” replies Kallus. He puts his fist in his hand and bows. “You said you weren’t a knight. You just didn’t mention that you were Captain Garazeb Orrelios of the High Honour Guard of Lasan. I had no idea you, of all people, had survived.”
Ezra looks back and forth from one to the other. “You know who he is? Zeb, he know who you are?”
“Were,” corrects Zeb, bowing back. “Ain’t exactly got nothin’ ta guard these days.”
“You’re guarding me,” Kallus points out. “Although you could have been a little quicker off the mark with those rogues.”
Zeb snorts and begins to move on. “Yeah, well, we know ol’ Hondo, don’t we, Ezra?”
“I scammed him once,” agrees Era proudly.
“And he betrayed ya half a dozen times.”
Kallus picks up his skirts a little to keep up. “He said something about how he didn’t recognise Ezra, erm, in this form, though. If I may ask?”
Ezra huffs and trots ahead. “No you may not. Absolutely never in a million years.”
It takes him a few minutes to get out of earshot, and then Zeb leans down. “Actually, yannow, it’s kinda a funny story…”
And so they continue through the forest, chatting about Ezra’s misadventures and about bo-rifle maintenance and a surprising number of common interests. For instance, Zeb is surprised to discover just how much Kallus knows about Lasan and its lost culture, having studied for years alone in his tower; he even speaks the language passably. Equally, Kallus manages to get Zeb to admit that he does kinda like those romantic stories of knights and princesses and heroism.
It’s almost a shame when, in the late afternoon after they have come out of the forest into rolling fields of sunflowers, Zeb crests a hill and sees the towers of the Chiss Ascendency in the distance.
“Well, there it is,” he says, pointing it out for Kallus. “Your destiny awaits, Princess.”
“Oh,” says Kallus. “So that’s where Lord Thrawn lives.”
“Yep, that’s the Chiss Ascendancy.” Ezra, who has been waiting for them to catch up as they dilly-dallied through the fields, raises his eyebrow at Zeb. “Looking forward to your wedding day, Princess?”
Kallus looks down at himself – covered in dirt, with leaves and twigs caught in his tiara and dress, and the fabric of that dress torn and ragged in places. “I don’t much look like a Princess at the moment, do I?”
He looks up at Zeb with a self-deprecating expression; the light catches his face just right so that his eyes and skin shine golden. Zeb suddenly realises that Kallus is beautiful, just like this. He looks more like a Princess now than he ever did with that stuffy pompous attitude. But his future is as another man’s bride – and as for Zeb, well, he can have the noblest past he likes, but he still lives in a swamp.
“Perhaps we should wait a little,” adds Kallus, softly. “I do so enjoy the view. I’ve only got a little more freedom, after all. I’d like to enjoy it.”
Ezra, too, looks to Zeb for a decision. Karabast. If he’s honest with himself, Zeb doesn’t want to see Kallus in Thrawn’s blue hands. He kinda wants to… to…
There is a farm house nearby. Kallus could have a nice place to sleep tonight.
“I guess,” he says aloud, “we can stay here tonight. It’ll be night soon, and we don’t want ya ta get scared a the dark all alone when there’s no one friendly around ya.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” replies Kallus, looking relieved. “I’ll get some firewood.”
Ezra stares after him. “For real?”
“Shh, donkey,” scolds Zeb. “Are ya gonna help me hunt some food or what?”
“Fine, fine, I’m coming…” He trots after Zeb and, when they’re far enough away, murmurs: “So, I noticed you started getting along a lot better with the Princess today.”
Zeb hums. “I dunno what yer talkin’ about.”
“You spent, like, an hour talking about the benefits of trebuchets in warfare.”
“Nothin’ like flingin’ a giant rock at someone ta get yer point across,” replies Zeb.
“Zeb! Seriously!” Ezra headbutts him. “You were all mad at him for helping destroy your people, and now you’re all buddy-buddy? What the heck?”
“I guess I just… realised he was more honourable ‘n I thought,” replies Zeb. “That Boosahn Keeraw… He must’a done somethin’ pretty special ta deserve that. And besides, he did fight off half a Hondo’s goons fer us.”
Ezra harrumphs. “We coulda figured out a deal.”
“Yeah, well, you know how good deals with Hondo go.”
“Zeb -” Ezra trots round to face him – “bro, I think you’ve got feelings for him.”
“Who, Hondo?” snarks Zeb.
“Kallus, you idiot.” Ezra points a hoof at Zeb. “The way you looked at him just then? You had this expression on your face like you were looking at something really amazing and precious.”
Zeb shoulders his way past Ezra, looking out for a small animal that he can grab to eat. “That’s stupid. I mean, he’s a Princess, and… and besides, yer right. He took part in the massacre. There’s no way.”
With a groan, Ezra sits down on his haunches. “I’m just saying, dude, you should probably talk to him. You know, before he gets married to Lord Thrawn and you never see each other again.”
Yeah. That bit. Great. “I’ll – I’ll think about it.”
Ezra watches, sullen, as Zeb and Kallus eat together by the fire. They’re smiling at each other like Kanan and Hera do at home, but Zeb still hasn’t said anything. Now they’re just making small talk about the food and whether Princess Kallus should visit the swamp after he gets married. It’s not quite flirting, but Ezra can sure smell it on the horizon.
Well, clearly, Ezra will have to take drastic measures. “Wow,” he comments. “Isn’t this romantic? Look at that sunset.”
“Sunset?” Kallus bolts upright. “Oh, no, I – I should go.” He hurries to the door of the farm house. “It’s getting dark. I, um… thank you for the meal. I should go inside. Good night.”
With that, he hurries in, shutting the door behind him.
Karabast, that backfired. Never mind, he can fix it. Ezra looks up at Zeb. “Well, big guy? This is your chance. You should go in there and tell him how you feel.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” insists Zeb, the idiot. “Even if there was, you know as well as I do there ain’t exactly a chance. Lord Thrawn’s just over there, yannow, getting’ ready fer his big day.”
“But maybe -” Ezra begins to argue.
Zeb starts walking away. “But nothing.”
“Where are you going?”
“Ta get more firewood.” He stomps off, into the forest.
Ezra watches until he’s out of sight, mentally kicking himself. Maybe if he talks to the Princess, he can find out how Kallus feels and relay that back to Zeb? He turns back to the farmhouse door – which, he notices, has been left slightly ajar. Almost as if Kallus wanted someone to come join him. No, Ezra shouldn’t. It should be Zeb that goes in there to talk to him. Or should he…?
Finally, Ezra gives in to temptation. He pushes the door open with his nose and peeks in. It’s mostly dark in there, though as Ezra advances he sees the room lit by a small candle and a figure looming in one corner. There, standing in front of a barrel of water, is a large, golden-furred Lasat.
“Oh my god, it’s a -”
The Lasat grabs Ezra, pulls him inside, and covers his mouth in one swift movement. “Ezra! It’s me, Kallus!”
Ezra blinks: as soon as Kallus lets him go, his jaw drops. “You’re – you’re -!”
“A freak.” Kallus hugs himself. His hands have both lost their fourth finger; his feet are hidden under his skirts, but Ezra knows they’ll be just like Zeb’s. His nose and ears have all changed shape significantly, too. The only thing that remains is his carefully neat blond hair with its little tiara and his perfectly trimmed beard. “I know.”
“Damn, it’s impressive that dress still fits you,” blurts out Ezra. “You’re, like, twice the size.”
“Shut up,” scowls Kallus.
Ezra scrambles to recover. “I didn’t mean it like that! Uh, you look good, you look great actually! You’re not a freak! I bet Zeb would -”
“No!” Kallus grabs Ezra and pulls him closer. “You mustn’t say anything to Zeb.”
“But you’re -”
“I am nothing like him.” Kallus looks away. “I am a human. The only reason I ever look like… this… is because of my curse. No one can know this secret. Do you understand? Not even Zeb.”
Ezra turns his head to one side. “I don’t get it. Your curse?”
With a sigh, Kallus shrinks further into the corner. “A witch. After the battle of Lasan, there was an old Lasat witch who survived, I think her name was Chava the Wise. Because I had enacted such cruelty on Lasats, she cursed me: By night one way, by day another, this shall be the norm. Until you find true love’s first kiss and your frozen heart is warm.”
“Wow,” blurts out Ezra. “That’s some pretty terrible poetry.”
“It’s the spell that has been affecting me ever since. I deserved it, of course.” Kallus flexes his claws. “I would never be accepted, not as a Lasat nor as a Human. This side of me – she wanted me to see how it felt to be one of them, I suppose. But she gave me a fur colour that no real Lasat would ever have. They’re all purple or blue or grey. She made me an outcast no matter what time of the day or night. So… I locked myself away.”
Ezra sits down heavily. “That’s really sad.”
“And that’s why, tomorrow, Thrawn and I must be married before sundown,” explains Kallus, sitting down on a bench. “The spell won’t be broken otherwise.”
“Uh, hey, Kallus?”
“Yes?”
Ezra tips one of his ears to the side. “Did you… I mean, you could just not marry Thrawn, you know. You could find someone else to warm your heart and true love’s kiss or whatever.”
Kallus scoffs. “And who might you suggest?”
“Zeb,” says Ezra. “I mean, you’ve got a lot in common, and this just -”
Kallus rests his chin on his hand. “You think my curse makes me a Lasat, but no. This is not a face of honour. Not like my bo-rifle. It was not given to me because of my bravery, or anything like that. It was inflicted on me because I was cruel and heartless and massacred every Lasat I came across, and took pleasure in it. Zeb could never love me, especially not like this – it’s just another symbol of the way I took part in his suffering.”
Ezra tips his head. “I’m pretty sure he’ll love you no matter what form you prefer.”
“No, he won’t,” replies Kallus. “They called me the Butcher of Lasan, you know. Think about that! The Butcher – and look at me. I’m meant to be a Princess. No Lasat could or should want to even speak to me. In fact, I would be ashamed to see Zeb with the way things are. No, it’s better if I marry Thrawn. Someone who was never involved in the Lasan conflict, and who might be able to lift this curse with true love’s kiss.”
“I don’t think that’ll work…” Ezra tries. “In fact, I’ve been studying magic and -”
Kallus raises his eyebrow. “Got turned into a donkey, apparently.”
“Ugh, I’m gonna kill Zeb for telling you about that.” Then, he springs up. “Hey, speaking of. You don’t know how Zeb’s gonna react, but I know him. I know he’ll accept you as you are. If we just talk to him -”
“No!” Kallus holds up his hands. “Please, Ezra. Promise you won’t say a word.”
Ezra dips his head. “Alright, I promise I won’t tell him. But you should.”
It shouldn’t have been so hurtful. It shouldn’t have driven Zeb to do what he did. But the rage simmers inside him even as he returns to their camp early the next morning, and he lets it fill him even as he catches sight of Kallus coming out of the farm house.
“Zeb!” calls Kallus. “I – I have something to tell you.”
“You don’t need to tell me anythin’,” snarls Zeb. “I heard enough last night, Butcher. An’ yer right, I shouldn’t wanna speak with ya. It must be so embarrassing fer ya ta be seen with me, a lowly, filthy Lasat.”
Kallus stares at him. “What? But Zeb -”
There is a whinny from over the horizon. “Ah, there they are.”
“Who? Zeb, what -?”
But there they come: Lord Thrawn and his entourage, riding on horses and decked out in their finest armour. At the same time, Zeb catches sight of Ezra, who trots up to join him.
Lord Thrawn, in all his blue-tinged glory, nods at them. “Ah, Princess Kallus.”
“As promised,” replies Zeb, folding his arms. “Ya gonna pay us, or what?”
“All in good time.” Lord Thrawn dismounts and walks up to Kallus, sizing him up thoughtfully. Kallus is, in fact, about a head taller than Lord Thrawn. The two of them stare at each other for several long moments; Zeb and Ezra both hold their breath.
“Oh,” breathes Thrawn, at last, “you are magnificent! A work of art!” He reaches out to clasp Kallus’ hands. “Absolutely sublime, my dear. You don’t need to say a word, my love, I already know we’ll get along marvellously. We shall marry this evening!”
Kallus looks sidelong at Zeb and Ezra, clearly uncomfortable. Karabast. Zeb bites his lip, wondering if it’s too late to just tell Thrawn to go fuck himself and take Kallus away, back to the swamp. What he said was hurtful, but it’s probably not worth condemning him to an unhappy marriage for.
“Guards?” Thrawn snaps his fingers and points at Zeb. “Give this Lasat his money.”
One of the white-armoured guards brings forward a large bag of credits and dumps it in Zeb’s arms. If he were to guess by the weight, it’s enough to feed pay off all the debts that need paying and still have enough left over to last the rest of the year. And yet his heart sinks as Kallus limps slowly to join Thrawn and gets on the horse that has been provided for him; his instincts, his soul, everything rebels as he watches Kallus ride away, side-saddle, looking back from the corner of one eye as if Zeb could catch his gaze and pull him back even now.
“I know something you don’t know…” wheedles Ezra, as the horses disappear over the hill.
Zeb scowls. “Not in the mood, Ezra. Let’s just go home.”
The swamp is as dingy and dirty as ever, smelling like the inside of Zeb’s armpit, and yet for the first time Zeb doesn’t feel comforted by the homely sight and stench. He trudges up to the wooden door of the shack and knocks. The door creaks open.
There in one corner is Sabine the fairy, casting magical coloured sparkles onto her latest canvas; there at the table is Hera the medusa, whose veil prevents any of them from being turned into stone; curled up in front of the fire is Chopper, the orange calico with a big grin and a knack for turning invisible; and opening the door to welcome them home is Kanan, a shabby-looking bearded man wearing a pointy hat with the word “WIZZARD” badly stitched onto it. His knobbly staff is leaning safely against the wall.
As soon as they all realise who it is, they all jump up to greet Zeb and Ezra enthusiastically, hugging them and chattering at the tops of their voices.
“Hey, hey, ‘nough a that, now.” Zeb waves them all away and dumps the bag on the table. “One at a time.”
“You got the money?” gasps Hera.
“Yup. Every credit, plus extra.”
“How?” asks Sabine in amazement.
Ezra smirks. “We rescued a Princess. That’s the reward money.”
“A Princess?” Kanan guides Zeb and Ezra towards chairs by the fire. “Well, don’t just stand there, tell us everything! What was she like?”
“He,” correct, Zeb and Ezra, in unison. Zeb flops down in his favourite chair and sighs. “He was… well, it’s a long story…”
The two of them tell it, interrupted every now and again by the others with questions; it takes a while, but eventually Zeb finishes with: “So Thrawn took him back, and… we came home.”
Everyone – except Ezra – stares at him.
“Poor guy,” murmurs Sabine eventually. “I wouldn’t want to marry Thrawn.”
Zeb sinks down further in his chair. Karabast. “I been tryin’ not ta think about that.”
“He didn’t look very happy,” admits Ezra, his long ears drooping. And then: “But, like, we got the money, right? That’s what’s important!”
All of them turn to look at the sack of money. Somehow, its presence in the room leaves a bad taste in the mouth.
“I’m sure he’ll be well cared for,” comments Kanan lamely. “Thrawn will probably make sure he wants for nothing.”
“Except freedom,” Hera mutters. She shakes her head. “Face it. He’s going from one prison to another, and we all know it.”
There is another long, drawn-out silence.
“Why’d you do it, Zeb?” sighs Ezra. “Why’d you let him go with Lord Thrawn?”
The others gasp.
Hera throws up her hands. “You let him go?”
“Oh, like you don’t know exactly why, Ezra!” Zeb growls, feeling all of the anger from this morning return in full force. “You were the one all buddy-buddy with him last night. He don’t want me ta speak ta him. He’s ashamed ta even be seen with me. He’d rather marry Thrawn.” He scoffs. “I guess he deserves a chance at real true love.”
Ezra reels back. “What? That’s not what he said! He said he was embarrassed to be seen by you because -”
“Because what?”
“Because he turns into a blond Lasat at night!”
Everyone stares at Ezra.
“…Come again?”
Ezra gulps. “Oops. I should not have said that. I promised I’d keep his secret.” He takes a deep breath. “Well, I guess I’d better explain. He’s got some sorta freaky curse that was put on him by this witch named Chava and -”
“Chava?” gasps Zeb. “Chava is alive?”
Ezra manages the donkey version of a shrug. “Maybe? Anyway, he turns into a blond Lasat at night, but because it’s not a normal colour for Lasats, and because the curse was a punishment for massacring Lasats, I think he thinks you wouldn’t be cool with that. Uh, like, he thinks that when he looks like a Lasat, it’s faking, and you’ll always think of the massacre when you see him like that. Or something. I dunno, he said a lot of stuff and I didn’t really get all of it.”
Zeb stares at Ezra for a few moments. “It is kinda a weird fur colour, but Kallus is just kinda weird in general.” And then: “Oh, karabast, Lord Thrawn is gonna be extra extra pissed when he finds out.”
Kanan sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, he’s not exactly kind to Lasats, huh.”
“Yannow what? Fine.” Zeb stands up suddenly, planting his feet firmly on the ground. “Fuck Thrawn. I’mma go rescue Kallus again. And this time I ain’t sellin’ him ta some puffed-up Lord.”
“I’ll come,” volunteers Sabine immediately.
“And me,” agrees Hera.
Ezra jumps up. “And me! We’ve still got time to get there before the ceremony!”
Kanan nods. “We’ll all come with you, Zeb. Thrawn may have the numbers on us, but we’ve got one thing he doesn’t have: basic fucking empathy.”
Their rickety old cart, the Ghost, pulled by a very overworked Ezra, clatters into the courtyard in front of Lord Thrawn’s favourite church as the sun is beginning to set and screeches to a halt in front of the hordes of white-armoured soldiers – who shout and draw their weapons.
“Hello, boys,” says Hera, as she stands up. She waits for all eyes to be on her (apart from Zeb, Kanan, Sabine, and Ezra) and then lifts up her veil for a few moments to turn all of the soldiers into statues. “Alright, I think that’s all of them. Go on, Zeb.”
Zeb dashes up to the doors of the church and pulls on the handles. “It’s locked!”
“Shit,” swears Kanan. “Now what?”
Sabine clears her throat, looking meaningfully up at the window far above, and her fairy wings flutter behind her.
Zeb raises his eyebrow. “Are ya sure ya could carry me all the way up there? I mean, I’m heavier than I look.”
“I’ll help,” declares Kanan, grasping his wizard’s staff. “I’ll make you light as a feather, just for a minute.”
Uh-oh. “Are ya sure that’s a good idea, I mean look what happened to Ez-raaa!”
He begins to float, pulled up by a combination of Sabine’s wings and his own sudden weightlessness, and as he reaches the window he sees them: Lord Thrawn and Kallus at the altar. He can’t hear what anyone is saying, but even from here Kallus looks radiant in a stunning wedding dress. He doesn’t have more time to think about it, though, as he and Sabine crash through the window and his weightlessness begins to wear off.
As he arcs towards the altar, he has the presence of mind to yell:
“I object!”
“Zeb? What are you doing here?”
“Ah, Garazeb Orrelios.” Lord Thrawn somehow does not seem at all surprised. “I was wondering when you would show up.”
Zeb tumbles to the ground in front of them and picks himself up. “Don’t marry him, Kallus.”
“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” snarks Kallus, raising his eyebrow.
“It’s not true love,” pants Zeb.
Kallus huffs. “And what would you know about that? You clearly didn’t care about that this morning.”
“Oh, but he does.” Lord Thrawn puts his arms behind his back. “It’s clear to me that this pathetic Lasat has fallen in love with you, Princess. But he was too stupid to understand that in time so, alas, he has lost his chance.”
Shocked, Kallus stares at Zeb. “Is this… true?”
“I -” Zeb nods. “Yeah. And me an’ my crew ‘ve come to rescue ya.”
Kallus puts a hand up to his heart. “Rescue… me? That’s the third time in three days.”
“Yannow, with how good of a fighter ya are, ya coulda just run away,” Zeb points out. “Ya don’t need me ta rescue ya.”
Kallus looks down at the ground, clutching the skirts of his bridal gown. “But that’s not how a Princess ought to behave. The Princess gets rescued and marries a – a prince or a Lord or something, and they all live happily ever after. If I fight back, I won’t be a real Princess. I’ll just be a stupid man in a silly dress and -”
Zeb cups Kallus’ face in his hand and turns it up towards himself. “Yer a real Princess ta me.”
“Oh, how sweet,” interrupts Thrawn, with a sneer. He pushes between them. “However, I’m afraid we were just about to kiss the bride, so if you don’t mind -”
But Kallus is looking out at the setting sun. “It’s here… Zeb, I’m so sorry you have to see this.”
“It’s okay,” reassures Zeb. “I know.”
The sun dips below the horizon, and Kallus transforms, surrounded by sparkling light. When the mysterious magical aura clears, there in his place is standing a blond-furred Lasat about the same height as Zeb, still in his wedding dress and wearing a tiara.
“A Lasat?” Lord Thrawn’s lip curls. “I was not informed of this detail. Guards!”
But instead of the guards rushing in, the main doors burst open, with Sabine, Kanan, Ezra and Hera tumbling in.
“We object too!” shouts Kanan, brandishing his staff. “Lord Thrawn, stay away from that Princess!”
“Finally,” sighs Zeb, relieved. “I thought you lot weren’t ever gonna get in.”
Hera chuckles. “Turns out one of the guards had a key this whole time.”
With that, all four of them hurry up to the altar, past the rows of staring attendees.
“So this is Princess Kallus,” comments Sabine. “He’s, uh, taller than I thought.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Kanan offers his hand to Kallus. “You don’t know me, but I’m Kanan, friend of Zeb’s. I’m a wizard. I could try and fix your curse.”
Behind his back, both Zeb and Ezra shake their heads frantically, making throat-cutting motions. Kallus stares at them for a moment and frowns.
“Erm,” he says eventually, “you know, as much as I appreciate the offer, I’ll pass. I’d rather try and break it the old-fashioned way.”
“Excuse me?” snarls Thrawn. “I will not be disrespected like this! As for you, Kallus, my wife, I will lock you back in that tower where you belong!”
Ezra looks at Kanan. “Can I try something?”
“Ezra, we don’t even know if you can do magic as a donkey.”
But Ezra is already chanting under his breath. If someone were to listen closely – which would be very inadvisable, as that person would go mad within moments – they might have heard something along the lines of: “Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn…”
An Unreal Pit opens up in front of Thrawn’s feet, and twisted writhing tentacles that seem to defy all laws of logic reach up to grasp Thawn’s legs and arms in their strong yet slimy embrace.
“What?” gasps Thrawn. “The donkey can do magic?”
“Occasionally,” grins Ezra, and finishes chanting his incantation. The tentacles pull Thrawn down through the portal, screaming, and disappear along with any trace they were ever there; once they are gone, the opening to another dimension also disappears. “Bye, Dread Cthulhu!”
“Erm, what,” Kallus says.
Zeb shakes his head and comes closer. “Probably best ya don’t ask.” He takes a breath. “Look, I’m sorry I let ya go. I thought ya said ya’d be ashamed ta be seen with me, but -”
“No, Zeb.” Kallus takes his hands. “It is I that should apologise to you. Not only for not telling you about my curse sooner, but for every action and inaction I took that led to the massacre of your people. I should have resisted harder, stopped the invasion from happening in the first place. I should not have taken part, and I certainly should not have taken pleasure in causing suffering. I know my crimes are so great they cannot be addressed with mere forgiveness.”
Zeb dips his head. “How about true love? Cause, thing is, I do love ya, Princess. Despite everythin’, I love ya.”
“I… I love you, too.” Kallus lifts his hand to cup Zeb’s chin. “I’ll accept my curse if it means I can spend the rest of my life with you.”
Neither of them know who leans in first, but their lips meet in a soft and loving kiss. There is a sudden shift: before they can deepen the kiss, there is the tingle of magic in the air and Kallus begins to glow again, levitating into the air.
“Uh, guys?” Zeb looks to Ezra and Kanan, who both shrug.
“Wasn’t us,” says Kanan. “You must have actually broken the curse.”
The light intensifies, glittering brightly as something happens in or around Kallus, until Zeb has to cover his eyes. Then, at last, it’s over, and a shape wrapped in white sinks to the ground.
“Kallus!” calls Zeb, hurrying over to see what shape he has landed in. He pulls back the veil and – there. There is Kallus, back as a Human, staring at himself in wonder.
“It worked?” he quavers, eyes full of tears. “You broke the curse, Zeb!” And then: “Are you disappointed I didn’t stay as a Lasat?”
Zeb helps him up. “Kallus, I love ya no matter what ya are, cause either way yer exactly the kinda weirdo that I can’t help fallin’ in love with. I love how ya fight, I love all the stuff we got in common, I love how ya don’t conform ta gender norms. Marry me?”
“Oh, Zeb!” Kallus laughs and throws his arms around Zeb’s neck. “I will!”
So, they do. And they all live happily ever after.