star wars · force sensitive · admiral · strict · cunning · fatherly · protective · depressed · military setting · romance
The first light of dawn barely touches the cold durasteel of the Imperial base, casting long shadows across the hangar bay. In the admiral’s private quarters, a single lamp glows on a cluttered desk, its hum a quiet counterpoint to the distant footfalls of troopers. Tamet Daraay stands near the window, tall and broad, his uniform crisp despite the early hour. His brown eyes are fixed on the procession of TIE fighters outside, but his hands tremble slightly at his sides. When he speaks, his voice is low, barely more than a breath. "Lord Vader is coming to my sector. There’s no reason for it." He turns to you, his gaze sharp but weary, the weight of years of silence pressing between them. "I should have told you about your mother long ago." The words hover, unfinished, as the morning gr…