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There's something in the water.
Cody pauses on the edge of the pool, not sure if what he saw on his HUD was a sensor phantom or movement in the glassy, perfectly smooth surface of the water, as black and fathomless as a pane of obsidian in the twilight.
“Cody?” Rex asks over the comms, instantly alert as he raises his blasters.
“HUD ghost,” Cody says after a second. “Anything from the scouts?”
Rex checks, then shakes his head. “They're not seeing anything. At this rate we might make it all the way to Thani without hitting any patrols.”
Cody doesn’t like it. Telos IV is a Sep world, full to the brim with clankers and Mining Guild mercenary squads, given that the Guild’s all but strip-mining the planet. They should have encountered at least some resistance, but even the generals, who can trip over trouble in the middle of the most peaceful, boring worlds imaginable, are getting along perfectly fine.”
“Keep going,” he tells Rex. “I'm going to check in with Waxer and wait for Wooley.”
“Waxer knows how to ride herd on General Kenobi,” Rex says, but it sounds entirely like he’s humoring Cody, and he keeps moving, waving his squad forward with him. None of them even give the pool a second glance as they pass, even the two new ARCs Rex has been mothering, and Cody tells himself firmly that he’s just jumping at shadows. He turns his attention to the reports from all the other squads picking their way through the mountains towards the capital, the handful of stealth ships waiting for the mission to either finish or go sideways, then runs through the various exit strategies and makes sure they're all still open.
Just as he’s finishing, Wooley signals that they’re close, just waiting on a few civilians to clear out before they make their way up the hill, and Cody grimaces but signals back an acknowledgement over comms. Kenobi had said something about the pools being sacred, so it’s not a surprise that there are civilians around, but—Cody would much rather that there weren’t. If there are Sep squads around here, they’ve been known to target civilians just for fun, and there's no way to help and keep cover at the same time.
It is strange, though, that there have been so few droids and mercenaries. Cody feels the unease of it crawl across his skin, like insects, and after a second he takes a few deliberate steps to the side, rounding the edge of the flat black water with careful steps. There are silver willows with heavy, draping branches here, thick stands of blue-green rushes, and Cody hesitates for a bare second before he ducks under the cover of the thick leaves, not wanting to stay in the open—
His foot hits something metallic, hollow, and he freezes.
There's no cry, though, no click, no detonation. When Cody drops his gaze, it’s not some kind of landmine ready to go off, but a breastplate of overlapping scales, high-quality and something Cody's seen on the Guild’s mercenaries plenty of times. He frowns, crouching down to free it from the scattering of silvery leaves, and then pauses.
There are deep, deep gouges carved into the metal, dark, rusty stains. Cody drops the breastplate, wrenches back as he realizes what they are, and his boot comes down on something that crunches, twists beneath his weight and comes clear through the leaves. Something brownish-white, gnawed on, and undeniably a Human bone. It’s not the only one, either. As Cody snaps his helmet lights on, heart pounding, a whole field of bones comes clear, hidden under the willow and caught in the rushes all along the shore.
Suddenly, the lack of mercenary squads makes a chilling amount of sense.
Cody takes two steps back, looks up—
The lights of his helmet catch on blue, glowing eyes, wet black hair, pale skin as a man pulls himself up out of the mirror-still water, completely naked, almost jarringly beautiful. Cody's breath locks up in his lungs, and he freezes as the man steps through the rushes, eyes fixed on him, head cocking in a strange, predatory motion Cody's seen more often in big cats than Humans.
“Well now,” the man says, light, easy, like they're meeting in the halls of the Senate and not in the middle of a field of bones and scattered rags. “You don’t quite look Telosian, if you’ll pardon my assumption. There have been so many strangers here recently I can't help but wonder what precisely is happening out in the wider galaxy.”
He doesn’t look like he’s a serial killer, Cody thinks assessing. Just…Human, even if the nakedness isn't entirely normal. “Been living in that pool?” he asks, faintly bemused. It’s not like the Seps are subtle about what they’ve been doing to the planet. He tightens his grip on his blaster as the man takes another step towards him, debates raising it, aiming it, but—
Something stops him. A pull, almost, like attraction but twice as heavy, on the edge of fascination. He can't quite tell why he feels it, but it bubbles up in his chest regardless, knots itself into his muscles and keeps him standing right where he is, even when the man steps into his space, smiling lazily.
“This pool is mine,” the man says, and the arch of one brow is an almost aristocratic thing, expectant and cool except for the flash of wicked humor that he can't quite hide. “I don’t get out much, I’ll admit.”
Cody should pull away from the hand that splays over the sunburst on his armor, slides up like it’s following the largest ray straight up towards his sternum. He doesn’t. “The fact that there are about ten bodies’ worth of bones lying around on the shore doesn’t bother you?” He catches the man’s wrist, but can't quite bring himself to pull that long-fingered, elegant hand away.
The man smiles, and it’s not a shy thing, almost leonine in its lazy satisfaction. “Sometimes things happen by the pools. It’s always such a tragedy,” he says, leaning in. “Take your helmet off for me, my dear.”
Cody's hand might as well move on its own, for all the power he has to stop it. His helmet clatters to the ground, rolling between the bones and the damaged armor, and he breathes in the smell of riverweed and the delicate blue flowers blooming on the trailing willow branches.
The man hums, pleased, and touches Cody's chin. “Not Telosian, certainly, but handsome,” he says, sly. “And you look like you could be helpful, too. Tell me, soldier, how would you feel about making a bargain? A few minutes of your time in return for whatever your heart desires?”
Cody has a lot of desires, but the main one right now is definitely not appropriate. He takes a breath, means to push the man’s hand back into his own space, but somehow finds his fingers sliding into long, straight black hair, slick and smooth in his fingers, tangled with riverweed like the green strands are growing amongst the black. “What if I ask for something you can't give?” he counters.
With a chuckle, the man catches his hand, raises it to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. “My name is Xanatos,” he says. “Give me yours, soldier. Then we can discuss things further.”
“It’s Cody.” He catches the flare of triumph on Xanatos’s face, of victory, and it feels like a splash of cold water, a vivid, vicious reminder of the bones under their feet, and Cody wrenches back, blaster coming up—
“Kneel, Cody,” Xanatos says, a purr in the words, heavy against Cody's skin, and it takes effort not to obey but Cody takes another step back, runs up against the trunk of the willow as bones crack under his feet—
And then, sharp, Xanatos pulls up short, something twisting through his expression. “That isn't your name,” he says, an accusation.
Cody's heart is beating too fast in his chest, and his gauntlets creak as he grips his blaster. “Clone,” he says, pointed. “We get a serial number, not a name. What the heck are you?”
“Drat,” Xanatos says, deeply displeased, and Cody raises a brow, faintly disbelieving. It makes Xanatos roll his eyes, and he says tartly, “I feel that should be classified as cheating.”
“Given that not cheating seems like it would end with me dead and you chewing on my bones,” Cody says dryly, “I think I'm okay with that.”
Xanatos snorts, one corner of his mouth curling up. It’s an unfairly attractive expression, particularly when he steps right back into Cody's space, hands settling on Cody's hips, eyes gleaming in the twilight.
“Well then, my offer stands,” he says, light. “Your help for a favor, Cody. Anything you like at all. I've been tied to this pool for so desperately long now, and you can't imagine the wretched things I would do to break free.”
Cody takes a deliberate breath, tells himself that he doesn’t actually need to touch all of that sleek wet skin that’s almost pressed up against his chest. “You still haven't answered my question. What are you?”
Xanatos huffs. “Asking three times when we just met?” he asks, a complaint. “I can feel Obi-Wan’s presence all over you. Didn’t he tell you that people who drown in the Sacred Pools become Fair Folk?”
“No,” Cody says evenly, and he’s going to have words with his general about leaving relevant information out of the briefings as soon as they're back on the ship. “He didn’t.”
With a chuckle, Xanatos draws Cody's hand up again, lays a slow, lingering kiss on his palm. “I'm an each-uisge,” he says, low, like a tease. “If you can find the silver bridle hidden on the far shore and take it with you, I’ll be free to travel with you, and you’ll have your dearest wish.”
Something slides down Cody's spine, and he can't entirely tell if it’s fear or a tightly-contained thrill. “Bridle?” he repeats, raising a brow. “Someone must have really wanted to get a bit on you.”
Xanatos laughs, surprised, and pulls back. The humor that settles over his features is far more genuine, light and easy, and he sets his teeth to the curl of Cody's finger. They're sharp, make Cody's breath catch, and Xanatos’s answering smile is perfectly smug.
“Would you like me to teach you how best to ride me, Cody?” he asks, low. “If you’ll find that bridle, I’d be happy to.”
Desire knots itself into Cody's belly, and he has to take a breath. “That favor,” he says, as even as he can make the words. “If I asked you to do something like find the Sith Lord, could you?”
Dark brows slide up, and Xanatos chuckles. “Of course,” he says without pause, and when he smiles, Cody can see the razor edges of his teeth. “What is a Sith to one of the Fair Folk? Free me from this damned pool and he’s yours. You have my word.”
“All right,” Cody says, and meets those glowing eyes. “Show me.”
Xanatos’s smile sharpens, hungry and eager, and in the space of a breath it’s not a man standing in front of Cody, but a horse, as black as the still water of the pool, with riverweed tangled in his long mane. He’s just as strangely beautiful in this form too, and when Cody steps towards him, reaches out, Xanatos dips his head, drops a shoulder, kneels so Cody can get on.
Some edge of caution, the last dregs of common sense, have Cody pausing, one hand on Xanatos’s withers. “You meant it about showing me how to ride, right?” he asks, and Xanatos chuckles, turns his head to look at Cody with those gleaming dark blue eyes.
“I'm going to have an exceedingly good time showing you all the many ways,” he promises.
Cody tangles his hands in that long black mane, pulls himself onto Xanatos’s back. Xanatos surges to his feet, turns with his hooves cracking across the bones as he leaps, and they plunge into the dark, still depths of the pool, black water closing over their heads as they dive.