House Inirial of Alderaan

[Pharos Inirial]

Alderaan
1 BBY

Vapour licked in condensing curls against the leading edge of the shuttle's wings as it carved it's graceful way through the crisp blue winter skies of Alderaan. Had he been inclined to look, Major Pharos Inirial would have seen the dancing wisps of cloud-like moisture through the viewport beside him; but his eyes were elsewhere, paying little attention to the shuttle that conveyed him. His eyes were on the spires, towering protrusions from the slopes of the Juran Mountains, looming into view in the distance like shapes emerging from a fog. He fought against the curl of a smile at the edge of his lips. For the next three point five minutes, he was a Major of the Imperial Army, and his behaviour would be in accordance with that.

The child straining with excitement behind his eyes at the prospect of coming home would have to wait.

"We've received directions to approach -"

"- the west landing platform," Pharos interrupted, not allowing the helmeted Imperial officer to finish giving his report. The west platform. That was the fancy wing of the house; the platform that led you through the gardens towards the Plaza and the Long Gallery. It the modest platform to the southeast where the family tucked away it's own shuttles and speeders; the one that led straight into the kitchens and to the maze of staff corridors that provided a short cut to the family's living quarters. It wasn't the platform that the family used. No: the west platform was for important visitors; dignitaries; honoured guests.

Pharos had suspected this; and the second he'd seen their approach vector, he'd known. Curse you, Father, Pharos thought, his jaw clenching as he wrestled his emotions into check, his muscles pulling his body to stand just a little taller. Any excuse to make a fuss.

"Thank you, Pilot," Pharos said allowed, drawing in a deep breath; readying himself for the fanfare that Lord Inirial had prepared. "You may begin your approach."

House Inirial grew ever larger, the ancient Alderaani architecture reaching up to welcome the shuttle as it descended slowly towards the platform. What had been tiny pinpricks of colour in the distance turned into figures as the shuttle drew close enough. Relief unravelled a knot of tension in Pharos' stomach as he noted the distinct lack of guards arrayed in formal dress; part of him had been afraid that Father would unleash every ceremonial weapon in his arsenal, honour guard, cannon volleys, and all. Alderaan was a peaceful place, sworn to pacifism and unarmed protest for the longest time; but that didn't stop the old families clinging to their traditions in spite of the way the political winds were blowing.

Even from this distance, Pharos knew in an instant the names that belonged to each of those distant figures. All nine. That struck an emotional blow that no amount of resolve could understand. His entire family, all in one place at one time? That was an achievement far beyond anything else Father could have orchestrated. His fingers tightened around the military cap, clasped loosely behind his back. The feel of the fabric brought him to his senses, mixed with the faint rumble as the shuttle's repulsorlifts adjusted into vertical flight for the final stage of their descent. Carefully he settled the cap into place atop his head, years of practice allowing his feet to absorb the shudder of contact with the landing platform without so much as a micron of movement on his part.

A breath escaped. More resolve mustered. "Thank you, gentlemen," he offered to his pilot and copilot, before turning smartly on his heel and striding towards the aft of the shuttle, hand triggering the boarding ramp as he passed.

He barely made it five paces onto the platform itself before a blur of white lunged towards him, a flurry of brown hair, green eyes, and arms clad in an Imperial uniform slamming into him like a torpedo, latching around his waist with all the squeezing power of a black hole. Pharos allowed himself a moment of indulgence, a moment to reciprocate the embrace before he carefully extracted himself, a half step taken backwards to restore his propriety.

"At ease, Cadet," he said softly, trying his utmost to keep a grin at bay, and only barely succeeding. The uniform was painfully new; if he didn't know that Mother would have insisted it be custom tailored, he might have expected to still see the creases in the sleeves from where it had been freshly removed from the packaging. He wondered how many days had passed since Carré first put it on, and had refused to remove it. A choke of emotion worked it's way up the back of his throat; Pharos disguised it by bringing his hand to his brow in a salute. "I heard you aced the entrance simulators; beat your brother's scores, even."

A little more of the smile snuck past the Major's efforts to restrain it.

"I hope you gave him hell for that."

[Carré Inirial]

Fingers smoothed out the soft white fabric, ensuring her sleeves were perfectly in place. They were, of course, as they had been five minutes prior, and five more minutes prior to that. A faint sigh emerged from her lips as she stood in the receiving line her mother had insisted upon, beside a very disgruntled Benton as he muttered under his breath. Her features melted into a smile as she caught a few of his words and tilted her head to the side to reply.

A pair of brilliant emerald eyes met her own, and a perfectly sculpted brow was lofted in warning. Carré smiled sweetly and as demurely as she possibly could, which her very proper mother did not believe for a second. The expression earned a snort from her father, however, so she counted it as a minor victory regardless. She freed one hand after a moment, tucking a sable curl behind her ear as it came loose from beneath her small cap. Her fingers remained there, toying with the soft curls and wishing she'd dared her mother's wrath to bring her sketchbook.

Having nothing to do but simply stand and wait was problematic, at best, for the teenager. Adjustment to life at the Academy on Carida would be...quite the experience. Patience and sitting still had never much been part of her bailiwick, given that she'd grown up chasing after six active brothers. The only time she could manage to be still was when she was drawing, and even then her fingers fairly flew across the page, drawing pencils and brushes in their wake.

Benton lodged a discreet elbow into her side and Carré accidentally stepped on his perfectly polished shoe as she shifted herself just out of his reach. That earned them both the infamous glare from their mother, while their father made an effort to ignore their antics, focusing instead on the shuttle that had only just become a recognizable speck against the bright Alderaani sky. She inhaled sharply, her expression marking the change in her thoughts, as plotting Benton's downfall gave rise to the excitement of seeing her eldest brother return home.

They'd not have much time to be together as siblings before each was called away to their duty and she to the Academy, but it would be enough that they were together at all. How her father had managed to pull it off, Carré would never know...and how he'd not made more of a show of his eldest returning home was also destined to remain an unsolved mystery.

She made a concerted effort to corral her thoughts as the shuttle descended slowly towards the landing pad, but failed in restraining herself the moment it touched down. Sheer, unadulterated happiness drove her forward as Pharos strode down the ramp, and latched her arms around him as tightly as she could possibly manage in an effort to approximate a black hole of sisterly affection and enthusiasm. He returned the embrace for a moment, lingering briefly in spite of the protocol of such a moment and the family waiting behind them.

While Pharos managed to contain his grin, she could not, grinning giddily as she at least managed to settle into the proper stance. She even returned his salute, though her enthusiasm tipped it past the correct angle and position. She failed to keep herself in check any longer however, and glanced over her shoulder, her expression turning wicked. "Gave and continue to give, of course." she bounced from foot to foot and stepped out of the way, letting him make the rest of his greetings in the proper order.

The lecture she'd get later about it would be entirely worth it.

[Benton Inirial]

That was it?

Benton had been stood here for, well, probably not that long; but certainly long enough for it to feel like figurative hours. He'd endured the torture of Carré's fidgeting, her fussing with her uniform, her utter resistance to his efforts to get her to chill out and relax a little. And that was just today. There had been the holo-messages, and the vid calls. Which was the right uniform to wear? Should she salute? Should she call him sir? It had been utterly and completely insufferable; the only consolation, the only thing that made it tolerable was the knowledge that Carré would secretly be the exact same way if any one of her brothers came home. It was infuriating, the way she could make a fuss like this and have it be completely forgiveable.

Much as Benton was eager to get this formality over with though, he wasn't about to have weeks of frustration pissed away by a few dozen exchanged words and an annoyingly adorable shuffled sidestep. No, sir. Absolutely not.

With a surprising amount of finesse and grace, Ben slid behind Rey's attempts to escape like a TIE Fighter in tight formation. His hands latched onto her shoulders like docking clamps, and he dragged her into a reverse course that positioned her back where she'd originally been standing.

"Thul's bones, Carré," he grunted, with approximately 500% more annoyed growling than was accurate or appropriate. His arms straightened out, shoulders locking to safeguard against protest, forcing his baby sister - by almost, but not quite a year - forward half a step. "Would you just hug the man already, so the rest of us don't have to?"

[Carré Inirial]

There was a certain measure of indignation to be had as she felt herself hauled back several steps.

A rather large measure as the grasp was both familiar and proved to be out of reach of immediate retaliation. There would have to be strategy employed, perhaps even a string of Huttese insults? No...that would earn even her father's wrath, and much as she loved nothing more than frustrating her mother, she wouldn't disappoint her father for anything. Somehow, Carré managed to stand perfectly still, leaning back slightly in an effort to prevent Benton from being able to push her forward any further.

He was stronger, granted, but where he had strength and size over her more slender frame, she'd had a lifetime of experience throwing hydrospanners into his schemes.

"And break protocol? Stars forbid!" she breathed in a relatively decent approximation of their mother's oft-heard shock and indignation. "We were out of alignment, after all, dearest Benton. Those with the lowest simulator scores should have at least this measure of pleasure first. I must insist you go ahead." She smiled as sweetly and demurely as she possibly could - which, really, wasn't very demure at all - as she glanced over her shoulder at her beloved brother.

[Benton Inirial]

"Well then, fine."

If that was how Carré wanted to play it, so be it. Benton had a full lifetime of learning how to deal with these situations. Carré wanted drama and excitement. She wanted to push everyone's buttons until she worked out where the limits were, and wanted to chuckle away behind the protective barrier of being the baby sibling and only sister to get away with it. If their father was presiding over the situation, she absolutely would get away with it, too, same as she always did. And, just in this situation as in so many others, Benton had the unfortunate privilege of being the most proximate sibling, who'd get dragged down with her and used as a human blame shield.

Right now, what Carré wanted to do was show him up. Embarrass him. Prove that she could give as good as she got, because that's what happened when you were the only girl with six older brothers. But while her oh so frequent reminders about simulator scores might have been accurate, on other counts she was very much incorrect. She could not give as good as she got; not when Benton Inirial was concerned. He would always, always be willing to go as many extra steps as was necessary to one up the sister who'd come along and stolen away all the attention before he managed to get any.

Eyes locked unflinching on Carré, Benton took two steps forward. He maintained contact until the last possible second, gaze broken only because of the enthusiastic and exaggerated effort with which he threw his arms around Pharos. The sloppy, audible kiss planted on their brother's cheek was maybe a little bit too overboard, but when Benton embarked on something he never shied away from committing fully. About half way through there was a faint flicker; a moment when the performance briefly became genuine, and was briefly reciprocated. For that blissful instant, Benton had won: he was the one getting the big brother hugs, and Carré wasn't getting squat.

Immensely pleased with himself, Ben freed himself from his brother, and stepped back in line, a quick smug smile flashed at Carré before he restored his composure, and offered Pharos a smart salute.

"Welcome home, Major," he added with polite formality, the perfect bow to tie everything off. He could already feel the stern glare from their mother burning through the side of his skull; but whatever. Worth it.

[Carré Inirial]

She had miscalculated.

That was simply unacceptable.

Emerald eyes watched Benton's display closely, a single brow lofting at the overabundant enthusiasm, barely catching the brief moment it slipped towards a genuine gesture. In a rare moment of control, she smiled and bowed her head as she stepped back into her proper place. Her expression was warm and welcoming, though her gaze was bright with what could only be termed calculation.

There would be retribution, certainly...but it had to be done right, and now was not the time for a proper display.

Carré smoothed out her uniform and stood straight as Benton returned to his place beside her. She offered her brother a nod, a faint smile ghosting briefly across her lips as if to say 'well played' before she turned her attention to Pharos once more. Instead of stepping forward, she shifted herself into the proper stance and offered a crisp salute the way her father had taught her.

"Welcome home, Major." her voice echoed Benton's words, but she could do no less just then, and offered a warm smile as she lowered her hand.

[Pharos Inirial]

It was not the first time that Pharos found himself used as a weapon between his siblings, and it was unlikely to be the last. While squabbles and feuds were common among siblings - especially male siblings, and especially when there were as many involved as the Inirial family could boast - Carré and Benton had perfected it to a fine art, warring with each other with such frequent fervour that it threatened to put even the Clone Wars to shame.

Risking a glance a little further up the precession of relatives, Pharos quietly wondered which campaign his Father found more harrowing.

"Now that is a greeting," Pharos said with a hearty chuckle aimed at Benton, the formality in his posture already beginning to subside. He wondered if the others felt the way that he did about coming home. It wasn't that Mother and Father made such a grand fuss - while he'd rather they didn't, he couldn't help but be touched by the place of love and pride that it came from - but more the apprehension of it. Military service was a calling that members of the Inirial bloodline had been answering for generations. It was a tradition that he was proud to continue, and proud of his siblings for doing the same; but as a result he saw them so infrequently that each encounter came with a knot of worry in his gut. Had they changed? Had he changed? Would there come a day where childhood closeness faded away into formality and unfamiliarity?

Today was not that day, not with these two at least, and the relief flooded from Pharos' heart to every extremity.

"A little sloppy on the execution mind you, Ensign," he added with a slight brush of his kissed cheek with the edge of a sleeve, a faint flicker of mischief sparking in his eye as his gaze shifted between Benton and Carré, "But one of these days you'll find someone other than your hand to practice on, and I'm sure you'll get the hang of it in no time.

Pharos' smile grew a little as Benton's eyes narrowed in reaction, but he had already stepped to the side before a retaliation had the opportunity to form. Best to let Benton sit with it a few hours: his revenge was always infinitely more creative if it was forced to stew for a while.

The mirth that came from speaking to Benton and Carré faded a little as he moved to face his next two siblings. If the youngest Inerials were close, Lance and Harris took it to a whole new extreme. There were times where, as children, Pharos had a hard time knowing where one twin ended and the other began. They were far from identical - even with their matching genes, Pharos had always been able to tell one from the other - but for all their differences, the bond that tethered them together was more potent than between Alderaan and her sun. How Lance coped without his brother since shipping out for the Stormtrooper Corps, Pharos had no clue: but it must have been intensely difficult, and Pharos was deeply proud - even if their Father couldn't entirely manage to be.

Lance offered a crisp salute; one that Pharos readily returned. Harris on the other hand moved in for a hug, and Pharos was ready for it. "What the hell are you doing awake," he teased, having to hunch down a little to lock arms with the artist twin. "It's not even noon."

[Carré Inirial]

Emerald eyes looked to each of her siblings in turn as Pharos continued down the receiving line their mother had arranged, taking in the sight of each of them even as she quietly fussed and shifted where she stood at the end of the line. The thoughts she was beginning to corral soon escaped and wandered off on her like so many nerf roaming the countryside near the estate.

A faint sigh escaped as her gaze settled on Harris, and Carré was forced to admit that for all the effort it took her to look presentable and proper that morning, he had literally rolled out of bed half an hour prior and had himself looking spectacular in a matter of minutes. He’d always had that artistic knack for both making and entrance and looking great while doing it, no matter the time allowed him for preparation. It was something she was absolutely envious of, that would have been a useful trick to know as she went off to Carida.

Blinking, it took Carré several moments to realize that her mother was glaring at her with very specific intent, and she sighed again as she smoothed out her uniform and stopped fidgeting in the receiving line as Pharos continued greeting his siblings. That seemed to pacify the Lady Inirial for the moment, and the young cadet breathed a sigh of relief even as she kept a wary eye on Benton as he no doubt plotted something glorious in retaliation.

She glanced towards her father in that moment and was rewarded with a small smile as she managed to keep herself in check, which made the numerous looks earned from her mother entirely worth enduring.

[Harris Inirial]

Running a hand through his hair, he shifted his stance slightly as he stood beside his twin. The pair exchanged looks as Benton and Carré provided fuel for eachother’s fire, and for his part, Harris wondered if he ought to start carrying his holocamera around now that they were all home again. Things were bound to get interesting, and he didn’t want to miss a moment of it.

While Lance offered a crisp salute, Harris instead grinned broadly and gave his eldest brother a hearty hug and a warm laugh, pleasure lighting his features and working its way through every fiber of his being. He was happiest surrounded by his siblings, and having all of them there, most especially his twin, was something he wouldn’t take for granted. “For you, brother, I wake up before noon. Also, I do it to both avoid parental wrath and to observe the spectacle that’s those two forced to try and sit still. It’s been highly entertaining.” He grinned, canting his head to the side as he withdrew from the embrace after it lingered warmly for several moments.

“Remind me to show you around my studio later. I have some new pieces you might enjoy, along with a gift.” Harris added quietly as he nodded, absently bumping his shoulder against his twin’s, the simple gesture a comforting one as well.

[Pharos Inirial]

Parental wrath. Observe the spectacle. That was Harris, alright. If there was ever confusion about which of the twins you were talking to, all you needed to do was provoke them into speaking. With Harris you would find poetry, painting upon the conversation like it was a canvas. Harris was warmth, he was hugs and smiles, he was gifts, and wit, and charisma. Everyone liked Harris, his effortless charm afflicting everyone he met: unfortunate for his lady admirers, who fell beyond the scope of his preferences, but fortunate for his twin brother, who had always - in their youth at least - been on hand to console and comfort; particularly those who considered an identical twin close enough.

Such thoughts painted Lance in a negative light, and he didn't deserve that. Lance's only sin was not being Harris, and for that, he seemed to suffer inordinately. He was quiet, the introvert to Harris' extrovert, reluctant to engage lest he make a mistake, or be in error, or expose himself to rejection or disapproval. It was easy to think that Harris cared, and Lance did not, but that wasn't true: Lance cared too much, but he directed those concerns onto himself, far too ready and willing to shoulder the blame for anything that went wrong. It was part of how Harris got away with so much: people would never suspect the sweet and innocent Harris of any wrongdoing, so obviously, his twin had to be at fault.

There was supposed to be a black nerf in every family, the one member of the flock who differed from the others, and stood apart. Lance seemed all too willing - eager, almost - to fall upon that particular sword. He saw himself as a pariah, the enlisted man among a family of commissioned officers. He thought that made him different, blind to the fact he had more in common with his father and soldier siblings than any of them had with the civilian siblings Harris or Cantul. It was easy to believe that he wanted to feel removed from them, that it was all a barrier, pushing them away. Pharos was not in the habit of doing things, or believing things, merely because they were easy.

He considered returning Lance's salute, but the hand stopped part way, extending out towards his brother instead.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Sergeant. From what I hear, it was well deserved."

[Lance Inirial]

Lance was prepared to seethe, to roll his eyes, to grumble in hindsight at how stupid this all was. Oh sure, let's all be excited now that Pharos is home. Let's bend over backwards to praise the homecoming Major, who is now so important and significant that he doesn't even need to be in the same Sector as the front lines anymore. It was easy to be angry, not just at his siblings, but at officers, at the men and women in their clean uniforms who didn't know what it was like down in the muck with the rank and file.

It was easy to forget that Pharos had been there on Mimban, had fought in the same kinds of trenches and turmoil that Lance had. It was easy to forget that while Father, and Adonis, and Benton, and Carré cruised around among the stars, safe within the pristine hulls of their starships and starfighters, Pharos actually knew what it was like to get his hands dirty. He cleaned up nice, sure enough, but you could see it in his eyes, and feel it in his hand as you grasped it, shaking it firmly. Pharos towered over him, but he deserved to.

Those words, coming from him more than anyone else, punched him in the gut with the weight they carried. It was one thing for Father to have said as much. Lance had no desire to feel like he was the subject of rumour and idle conversation, chit-chat between the retired Admiral and the hordes of veteran cohorts he socialised with. Hearing such words from Adonis was creepy - much as it came from a place of protectiveness and curiosity, there was something unsettling about knowing that he was applying his intelligence and analysis training in keeping tabs on you. From Benton and Carré, he wouldn't have believed it, stormtrooper versus starfighter rivalries getting in the way of any genuine sentiment they might have conveyed. Cantul, and Harris, and Mother, they simply didn't understand what it meant. Pharos, though? Major Pharos Inirial, infantry veteran? He knew what a Sergeant was, what a Sergeant did. He knew that it wasn't just an increase in rank, in status, in prestige: it was responsibility. He had a squad. He had people. Benton and Carré would be pilots for a long time before a squadron became theirs, if ever. Adonis followed a path that would see him in a shadowed, supporting role for most of his career. Only Pharos and Father knew what this taste of leadership translated to, and while deep down it was Father whose eyes Lance truly craved to see filled with pride, Pharos was a precious and appreciated consolation.

"Thank you, Major." For once, Lance's words actually seemed sincere. "That means a lot, coming from you."

[Pharos Inirial]

"It should mean a lot coming from anyone," Pharos countered, letting a smile soften his expression. The handshake was already past the point when it should have ended, but Pharos didn't release it, not until this moment of sibling sentiment had fully run its course. "You've earned each and every step of that ladder you've climbed. Be proud of what you have achieved, and know that your family is as well. Try not to forget that."

A few moments of eye contact lingered before Pharos' grip finally broke. A subtle nod, invisible to everyone else, was exchanged between the two of them, before Pharos advanced down the line. He appreciated the gesture and sentiment that this ceremony represented, but would have been lying if he'd said he didn't feel unworthy of the necessity; stifled by it, even. Knowing that the seven of them were here together, that was enough for him, without needing to see them arrayed like toy soldiers leading to the entrance of their home. There would be opportunities to speak to them later, to reunite in more personal terms, to experience Harris' studio - a studio! Force sakes, how long had he been gone? - and spectate as Ben and Rey bickered and bantered about their most recent manoeuvres, or stand with a drink watching the sunset, enjoying Adonis' latest attempt to strike up small talk about the latest R&D development in infantry equipment, or whatever other aspect of Pharos' career he'd researched for that specific purpose. He missed his siblings, and cared for them deeply, but he wanted to spend time with them, not the presented facsimiles that were arrayed for him to review.

Besides, there was someone more important than all of them that he was aching to see, and he could feel her, waiting for him at the end of the line.

His eyes turned to the next sibling in line: Cantul. He felt the familiarity drain away from inside him, leaving only formality behind. He could almost feel his brother's reluctance to be here, as if more than anyone else, the imposition weighed upon him, tearing him away from far more important matters than the sentimentality of family. Pharos' greeting came with a curt nod.

"Counselor."