King.
He still hadn’t processed it entirely. Altair was no longer a farm boy from Bandomeer like his family had been for generations. He had elevated them all to royalty and he was crowned King. And yet he couldn’t help but visit several different sites that helped shape who he was in some way or had an impact on him. He had even visited Zakuul for nothing other than to remember Cairo. Onderon wasn’t a planet he ever considered revisiting, but he couldn’t deny it held significance to him.
The Sith had lost that day and they were repelled. Altair had succeeded in his mission, but he barely made it out alive. He was under collapsed debris and considered himself dead if not for a Jedi that helped him.
Altair stood before the site of that collapsed diplomatic building, a place that still had caution tapes all around it. There was word it would be turned into a memorial one day. It was night and pitch black out and he was there by himself. Altair was wearing a hoodie and some baggy pants, his hands in his pockets. No one in a billion years would guess that he was royalty, let alone King.
It was surreal gazing upon a place that still brought hints of anxiety in him. He could remember the collapsed tunnel, losing air, believing that he would die here. Being helped by a Jedi. He wondered where she was, that grouchy Jedi that was always in a mood and despised him. Altair couldn’t help but smile at the memory, briefly glancing down to where his hand was in one of his deep pants pockets. A saberhilt was tucked away there, his fingers grazing over the metallic surface. He wondered where she was and if he would ever get the chance to give it back to her. Or why he even held onto it in the first place.
Altair sighed and drew his hands out again, preparing to leave to continue his little visits.
@llamallove