Unhappy Beginnings

((This marks my new area of character writing. Eirinn is my bounty hunter for the Star Wars MMO. I don't expect to do a lot of writing for her, but I needed to get her beginnings laid out for my own reference. Enjoy!))


Meilin watched the men approach her place of work uncomfortably, cradling her swollen belly with one arm in a protective manner. She'd stopped dancing when she got pregnant by a customer, instead turning to bringing drinks to the patrons and acting as a critic for some of the new girls. It wasn't much of a life, but that was about the best one could expect on Nar Shadaa unless they had connections. And money. And Meilin had neither.

A sigh eased across her lips as she turned to face he boss, an angry man who had a soft spot only for the women who worked for him. "This one's father is headed this way. Again," she said, her voice low and infuriated. Her hand still rested protectively on her distended belly, where she felt the child give a kick. "Are you just going to let him yell at me again?"

Jace glanced at her and sighed, leaning over and rubbing the blonde haired beauty's head ever so gently. "I can't do anything, kiddo. He's got money. And firepower. I start making a stand, he'll start trying to shut me down, or worse he'll just murder everyone and make off with you anyway. You know how this works." He glared at her through his good eye, the other long scarred and useless. The man wasn't pretty. His face was grizzly, with a scraggly beard and long, greasy hair. But Jace was the closest Meilin had to a father, and she always thought that beyond his grizzled appearance he was a truly good and wonderful man. Usually. Well, as long as he dealt with women.

She sighed in resignation, turning to the door as it opened and several men came inside. Their leader was a handsome man, but a notorious leader of a local gang of thugs. When he'd first started visiting Jace's establishment, Meilin had been smitten. The feeling had flourished under the careful attentions of Aebatt Lorcken. Even today, she felt a flutter in her chest when he set his steel gray eyes on her.

"Meilin...I hope you've reconsidered your stance on my proposition," he said in a soft voice. It was a voice that drew out a false sense of security. He always sounded so soft, so warm and sweet like a lover. But she'd learned better. Beneath the soft voice was darkness and rage. Aebatt made his enemies bleed, and he enjoyed doing it. And right now, she was his enemy.

"I told you before, Aebatt. I'm not gettin' rid of my child," Meilin said, her voice full of acid and fire. Aebatt got softer and quieter the angrier he got. Meilin got louder and sharper. "You're so damn worried that your old lady's gonna find out you fathered a bastard on some poor little dancer girl...how's she gonna find out? You said yourself your men won't utter a damn word or else you cut their tongues out. And you know I'm not gonna be flappin' my yap about it without your say-so." She rested her hands on her hips in a manner that Jace and Aebatt both recognized as her arguing stance. Even eight months pregnant, she would stand like that for hours unless someone put an end to the argument...or prevented it altogether. "Now I've been a good mistress. Kept my head down, kept workin' here. I don't ask for much of anything. But please...just let me keep this baby. It'll be beautiful...I know it will. And no one will know. No one will ever know it was you. People see a woman in this line of work with a kid, they pin it on some no name and don't ask questions. You comin' here and causin' an uproar is what's drawin' attention."

Aebatt listened to her argument, the same one she'd presented the last time they'd had this conversation. He'd relented on his stance that the child be aborted during that conversation, but he still didn't want it to be anywhere near his Meilin...or him. "Adoption is not a terrible thing, Meilin. The child will be so young...someone will find it to be perfect for their family."

Meilin scoffed, never moving from her position. "Yeah. It'll be some child slave in some crime family, running drugs or illegal bits." She glared at him, her pretty, heart-shaped face set with harsh lines as she grit her teeth. "I still don't see why you're worried about someone finding out you've got a bastard. Don't most men on this moon have one?" She asked, closing her eyes and inhaling sharply in exasperation.

Aebatt pulled out a chair at one of the many tables that littered the bar, gesturing to his men as he did. One man blocked the doorway, and the others took up spots near windows or along walls. Six men in total. Meilin had a sinking feeling she was in trouble no matter what. "Sit, Meilin," he commanded once his men were in their resting places. She moved to the table and sat in the chair opposite him, folding her arms on the table. "If anyone finds out that this child is mine, I will descend upon this dancer's bar and murder every man and woman within on the day the secret escapes." She gave a wary nod, glancing over her shoulder at Jace, who had gone white faced. "Is this child worth so many?"

"No one's gonna know, Aebatt. Please...I would never go spreading this around. Last thing I want is rival gangs thinking they can come hold your bastard hostage." She curved her arms around her stomach once more, looking down at the swollen bump.

Aebatt sat silently, staring her down. "So be it. We'll need to upgrade your living space, then." She looked up in surprise, one eyebrow rising. A dangerous smile curved his lips. "I don't want that child in the same room as us when I pay my visits." He said. "And you're going to be taken care of after it's born. No more children."

She stared at him with wide eyes, unsure how to take that particular statement. He was going to 'fix' her? Like an animal? She blanched, but knew better than to try and argue. She would have this child, right? Why worry about the lost potential when she at least had one. "All right, Aebatt," she murmured quietly, finally leaning forward a bit and touching one hand to his. "Whatever you want, as long as I can keep this one."

He nodded, businesslike, and got to his feet, leaving her sitting as he turned to the door. "I will visit you after it's born...my men will get you settled in a new home within the week. And Jace," he turned to look at the bartender, who'd listened and watched without making a peep. At his name, the man looked to Aebatt, eyes narrowing. "If harm comes to either of them while at your establishment, I will hunt you."

Jace gave a nod, glaring at Aebatt until the man and his cronies disappeared. And then that glare turned on Meilin. "Fine bit of trouble you've scored us." He growled, though she sensed his relief. She smiled to him, getting up and tottering over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"You say that, but I bet my baby will be the best little thing...better to pay for it this way than to get rid of it." She patted the top of her belly and smiled when the child kicked in response.

>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>

The five year-old ran between legs and under tables, laughing hysterically as a blonde woman and two younger women chased her around the building. Somehow, the child had gotten out of the backroom, and now she wanted to explore. She cared little for the disturbed clientele who glared and growled at her presence, or at the occasional spray of alcohol in her general direction as someone flung a glass at her for disturbing their night.

Unfortunately, a large hand clasped her tiny wrist and gently picked her up, slinging her over an equally large shoulder. "Now c'mon, Eirinn. That's bad for business." The little girl gave a whine, flailing in Jace's arms as he passed her back to her mother, who looked simultaneously irritated and amused.

"Sorry, Jace. She slipped out while one of the girls was coming in to change." She sighed, huffing as she looked at the dark headed child in her arms. Dark hair and steel gray eyes like her father.

"Not a problem, Mei. She's a rascal." Jace grinned at the girl, who laughed and squealed at the affection he showed her. Meilin laughed and turned to head into the backroom.

Much had changed since Eirinn's birth. Aebatt still favored her, still came by at least once a week to sleep with her and check on the child. But he never showed Eirinn affection, and never alluded to his father-ship. He was "Uncle Aebatt" to Eirinn, and always would be. But she didn't dance anymore. Instead she helped Jace run the bar and helped the newer, younger girls with their dancing...and with how to handle the clientele. She didn't dance, didn't dare. She had stretch marks and other things from her pregnancy...and she didn't wanna deal with questions. Jace had taken to calling her his lady, which explained why she turned down any potential clients. It also gave Eirinn a dark headed father, so none of the girls asked who Eirinn's father was.

But the world was dangerous, the clients were dangerous, and Jace's clientele had become increasingly rough and tumble over the past five years. They'd lost the manpower to keep some of their uglier clients away.

And Aebatt had begun to lose power. He still had power, and cash, and dabbled in all sorts of things, but newer players were beginning to muscle him out of his business. Meilin knew bad things were coming, and soon, but it made her anxious to think about it.

So she focused on Eirinn instead.

She brought her daughter back into the back dressing room, setting her down on a pallet of old outfits the dancers had thrown together. "Eirinn, Eirinn, Eirinn. Mommy's told you not to go running off like that." She dropped to a seat, settling down in front of the child who was giving her an irritated look.

"I just wanted to see the front room when everyone's working," she exclaimed, giving her mother a pouty look. Meilin laughed.

"I know, baby, but it's dangerous out there. There were mean men throwing things at you. And you don't want that to keep happening." She shook her head and then leaned down, cupping the girl's cheek. "Just stay here...and stay safe." She kissed her daughter's head and then got up, leaving her to play with her toys.

In the main bar, the crowd was getting rougher and rowdier. Jace looked uncomfortable, a sign something was wrong. "Jace...what's going on?"

"Trouble," he huffed, glaring at a knot of men in one corner of the room. "Some one is spewin' shit about Aebatt." He glanced at her, glaring harshly from his good eye. "I'm thinkin' you ought'a mosey on back to the back and contact him. Tell him we got some men in the bar who're lookin' to attack him within the week."

Meilin went very still, and very scared at that prospect. Much as she was hidden away and always the other woman, she loved Aebatt and all he did for her, whether he loved her or not. And he took care of her needs. All of her needs. Better than she ever could on her own. With a small nod to Jace she returned to the back, ignoring her daughter while she got in contact with Aebatt's men, relaying the information.

The next few days went by slowly. Meilin found herself in a state of panic, leaving Eirinn very confused and, in the end, almost as anxious and panicked as her mother. On the sixth day, however, one of Aebatt's men contacted her with information. "Everyone's safe," the gruff voice told her. "Aebatt has had his family moved to a new location. He's moving you, too. I suggest you get packed up and go make your goodbyes. Don't bring the kid with you when you do. If people wanna see her, they can come to your place before departure."

Meilin frowned at the phone, assured the man she'd do what he said, but promptly did the opposite. She packed everything up, but she took Eirinn with her, bringing her to Jace and the girls in order to say an official goodbye. The bar was quiet, closed down until later in the day when their patrons would turn up. "Jace?" Usually the old man was lurking in the backroom crunching numbers, or behind the bar polishing glasses and checking his stock.

Meilin set Eirinn down after shutting the door and locking it behind her, walking farther into the room and glancing around. "Jace!" Silence answered her. Eirinn began to speak, breaking the rule her mother had gave her to remain silent except when making her goodbyes. But then something crashed in the backroom, and she jumped, falling quiet. Her mother looked around sharply, her unease growing. "Jace? Is that you? What're you doin' back there?"

The door opened and several men emerged. One had Jace by the arm. The older man was sorely beaten, blood trickling from his nostrils and his good eye swollen shut. He groaned. Two of the girls were tossed out of the backroom, clothing disturbed, their bodies showing signs of brutality. Meilin shoved Eirinn behind her before the men had a chance to get a good view of her, pushing her gently back toward the door with her legs.

"You're a good girl, Meilin," came Aebatt's soft voice. He emerged from behind his men, looking cool and collected, as though he had not a care in the world. He looked up at Meilin with those cool eyes and smiled, ever so slightly at her. "You've done everything I asked, kept the secret, kept everything so safe and tidy."

He sighed. "It pains me to have to do this, truly. I've greatly enjoyed my time with you, but it's over now. I've got to be moving on...and you...well...You're too great a burden now. Especially as the child grows older. Don't take this too hard, but I've dispatched a man to handle the child." Meilin choked on those words, her eyes wide and her hand moving as though to find a weapon...any weapon. But before she could do more than that she was blasted in her midsection. She twisted as she fell, capturing Eirinn in such a way that she was hidden as she fell.

"Hide." She whispered on her dying breath, eyes going misty as tears formed in them. Eirinn didn't hesitate, using the commotion of men moving to check her mother to disappear under the nearest table. She curled up into as small a ball as she could manage, hiding in the gloom beneath the table, thankful it was dark in the room to keep her from easy view.

"She's gone unconscious, sir," said the man checking her mother.

"Finish it."

"Sir." The man knelt, and Eirinn watched as her mother's throat was slit. The man rose and the group departed after a few short words to the survivors.

"The child is dead, the mother is dead. I'll leave you people be if you keep your tongues."

Minutes later, Eirinn crawled out of her hiding space, moving to her mother and crying softly. "Mommy?" She murmured, touching her mother's face. Then her neck. She was shaking as she stared at the blood on her hand. A kindly hand covered hers, though, and she looked up to find one of the girls standing over her.

"We have to get you away from here, Eirinn sweetie. Aebatt's going to keep eyes on this place once he knows you weren't at your mother's."

Several days later, Eirinn found herself lost in the orphanage system of Nar Shadaa, another no name who could only hope someone would take a liking to her and adopt her.

>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>

"I just don't understand, Eirinn. Why would you do this? Hurting him was uncalled for...and what's worse is he says you chased him for a long while before hand. Why?"

Eirinn stared sullenly up at the woman who ran the orphanage. "He deserved it," she said simply, folding her arms over her stomach and stubbornly refusing to answer anymore questions. The matron eventually gave up.

And the story was the same everywhere...three orphanages later, Eirinn had gained a reputation. No one wanted her, the other children avoided her...and she liked it that way. She thought she'd developed the perfect system, until the day that she was told she'd been adopted.

She stared at the matron, eyes wide with surprise. "Yes. I know. I was surprised too. But you're leaving, thank goodness. Get your things, whatever little you have, together. You're departing tomorrow."

"Who adopted me?"

"Some Mandalorian."