I‘m not sure if the direct disobeying of Keel’ath’s orders is truly in-character for Lana here, but I was struggling with making the scene progress, so she is the fallguy. Sorry, Lana.
Author’s Note
Lana and Brant retired to her quarters together, and though he certainly intended to spend more time with her, Brant was out like a light as soon as his head touched the bed sheets. Lana paused over him, taking his temperature with a hand, then stroking his temple fondly.
“Hmm. My tired little Sith,” she murmured.
Then she was retreating into the adjoining room. A light was flashing on the control panel, indicating a waiting holocom call. Lana ran a hand through her hair, straightened her tunic, then pressed the answer button.
A Mandalorian flickered into view above the dash, and his crossed arms eased as soon as he noticed Lana standing there on the other end of the comms. “Are you alone?” he asked.
Lana glanced towards the open door of the bedroom. “Yes,” she said.
“You know why I’m calling.”
“Yes,” said Lana again. She rolled her shoulders and took a seat, relaxing into it. “He is well, Commander. Recovering from hibernation sickness, but intact and in good spirits.”
Keel’ath didn’t answer immediately. “…that is good.”
“He is asleep right now, or I’d offer to put him on for you.”
“No. Let him be.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Keel’ath sat in silence for some moments more, and Lana knew better than to interrupt him. He was struggling, she sensed, torn between the duties of father and Commander.
“You are closer to him than I, at the moment,” said Keel’ath. “What is his mental state?”
“Forgive me, Commander; I’m not quite sure what you mean.”
“How deeply did the Sith break him?” Keel’ath growled.
Lana pursed her lips in disapproval. “You are of course aware that I am a Sith.”
“Lana.” It was a light rebuke, and perhaps deserved, Lana thought. The absence of his family had ever eaten at the Commander. It was his main weakness — and his main strength, as she recalled the damage he had done on Tatooine to ensure his son and wife were safe from Zakuulian bounty hunters.
“He is strong-willed and strong in the Force. He reminds me a lot of your other son, Kellaro, in some ways. Fitting, I suppose, as they are twins. He is not unscathed by the initiation, but he is… less affected than most. Vette tells me he is courageous and loyal when he has the mind to be, and he is affected more deeply by the losses he’s sustained than he cares to admit.”
Keel’ath nodded. “You love him.”
Lana was taken aback. Yes, she supposed she did. Brant had not been coy in hiding his reasons for pursuing her in the beginning, as every Sith needed a legacy, and Lana knew her strength in the Force was attractive to many would-be Darths. She hadn’t cared to be taken for a mother so soon though, and she had let him know that in a firm manner, but despite that, Brant had remained… friendly, even courteous. And he did know how to please her.
“I do have a soft spot for him,” she confirmed softly.
Keel’ath nodded and said no more on that subject. Lana was grateful. She and the Commander had long been allies, even friends, but she hadn’t considered what new complications would be introduced if they were also to become family.
She thought then of Keel’ath’s ferocious protectiveness of his kin, both those of his blood and those he had inadvertently adopted during his time as Commander. She could certainly do worse…
“Yes, he sleeps now, but I could show him to you, if you like.”
“Do,” said Keel’ath, so she transferred the holo to her handheld, and quietly walked into the sleeping chambers. Brant lay on his half of the bed, motionless, face smoothed in sleep, though he still carried a slight frown in his brow. Lana eased herself down beside him and tilted the holo so he came into view of its sensor.
Keel’ath hadn’t removed his Mando’s helmet, so Lana couldn’t see his expression, but he seemed to relax, gazing quietly at his sleeping son from hundreds of lightyears away.
Lana didn’t ask him for permission, but she moved her hand to Brant’s forehead and tried to smooth the wrinkle there. It was meant to wake him if he was anywhere close to consciousness, and Brant soon stirred.
Keel’ath sat a little straighter, and Lana sensed another rebuke coming, so she smiled at him and said softly to Brant, “Good morning.”
Now Brant’s eyes opened, and they roved in the general direction of the holo, its light seemingly bright in the dark room, though he still couldn’t focus on it. “What is that?” he asked.
Keel’ath was probably silently cursing her. Lana continued to smile as she said, “Your father has been very busy, but he wanted to see you before the day ended, and so I obliged him.”
Brant muttered a curse, casting a hand out for the holo blindly. Lana saved it from his clumsy groping, taking his hand firmly and setting the handheld in his palm.
“Is it on?” Brant asked — a bit stupidly Lana thought, given the light.
“Yes.” Keel’ath answered before she could. “I see you.”
Brant surprised her in his next act, as he at once seemed to cower away from the holo but also grasp it with both hands, covetously. He licked his lips dryly, searching for something to say. What did one say to a parent they had been estranged from for more than a decade?
“You can start by saying hello,” Lana told them both.
The expected glare didn’t come. Brant didn’t even look at her. “I can’t see you,” he said to the holo, with some strain in his voice. “My illness…”
“I know,” said Keel’ath gently. “Lana told me.”
Brant seemed to need support, and Lana put a hand on his arm. “Long time,” he finally said.
“It has been,” agreed Keel’ath.
“Is… Mother there as well?”
“Yes. Not near me at present, but she is on-world.” Then, as if the dam had broke: “It is good to see you, finally. Our thoughts have been with you ever since you were taken. Every single day, I’ve thought of you…”
Was it anger? Lana wondered as she watched Brant’s face work to conceal his emotions, illuminated in the soft blue light of the holo. Or was it something else, perhaps something the Sith rarely felt? Lana knew that emotion, how difficult it was to place after so long of stoking hatred and fear both within and without. Perhaps it would come easier to Brant though, as he had spent his first years with a loving family, at least. She squeezed his arm reassuringly.
“I’ve… thought of you, too,” Brant said haltingly.
“I couldn’t come in person to meet you, and for that, I apologize. The war is in a tricky stage at the moment, and it requires much of my attention. The first chance I get, however, we’ll meet. I promise it.”
“Don’t promise,” said Brant. “You…” He didn’t finish the thought.
“I always keep my word, especially where family is involved,” said Keel’ath firmly. “Even if it takes years.”
Brant switched the holo from hand to hand as he carefully rubbed his eyes and said nothing.
“I only wanted to see you, so you knew I hadn’t forgotten,” Keel’ath finally said when Brant continued to remain silent.
“Do you remember the ice-world?” Brant blurted out.
“I’m sorry?”
Brant looked embarrassed. “In the… the carbonite. You were frozen for seven years, or so they told me. Do you remember anything about it?”
Keel’ath sounded puzzled, and Lana also double-took at Brant to see that she had heard him correctly. “No. As far as I’m aware, no one ever does,” Keel’ath said. “It is like a long sleep. You should know, having been frozen yourself.”
Brant nodded quickly, and Lana had the sense one of his worries has been relieved, only to be replaced by a greater one. “Yes. I do know. I only… wondered…”
Keel’ath took his measure. “Well. Speaking of sleep, I interrupted yours. I’ll let you get back to it. I hope we’ll talk more when you’re well.”
“Yes, sir,” said Brant softly.
“You only have to call me ‘sir’ in public, and though Lana may disagree, she doesn’t count in this case.”
Lana smiled. “I don’t disagree.”
“Yes, Father,” said Brant even more softly. Then, suddenly, as if to get in a last word before he lost it: “Dad.”
Keel’ath seemed pleased. “Son.” The Mandalorian stirred, but after a moment’s hesitance, stirred only to lean back and cross his arms again. “…Keep your nose clean, kiddo. I’ll see you when I can.”
Brant rubbed his nose, said nothing. The transmission ended.
Brant palmed the handheld back to Lana and turned over silently. Lana read confusion and anger there, and she touched his back soothingly.
“You should have warned me,” Brant said.
“There was no time.”
Brant seethed quietly for a minute. “You owe me.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.” Then he was taking her arm and pulling her down, putting a hard kiss on her lips. Lana chuckled and curled into him, pulling him close as Brant put more lazy kisses down her neck.
“On the contrary,” she said. “You never told me what was bothering you. So I consider us even.”
“No time for that now,” Brant muttered, “I need rest, and you need sleep. You’re going somewhere in the morning, remember?”
“Yes, but it is not morning yet,” she replied coyly.
He grinned, and she returned it, even though she knew he wouldn’t be able to see it. The handheld clattered to the floor, unheeded, and they didn’t move from the bed until just before Kellaro’s 600 hours.