...Ok, so I'm a Star Wars fangirl too. c_c;; DON'T JUDGE ME! I see you there, judging me. Hissss! =P Well, Zanny wants art, but while digging through ancient fanfic, her daddy started prodding me, so I ended up drawing him instead. Aerion Lyles is one of those nice guys who just never wins. Poor dude. Aerion was a Jedi Knight before Palpatine and the Purges. The bit of drabble that follows is set about 12-15 years before Order 66 and the Purges take place. He would have known Kenobi and his contemporaries, though not taken an active role among the Jedi during the Clone Wars. I blame the recent postings of  wielder and  emira, among others, for sparking old characters to life in me. XDD

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“The Council does not approve of this decision, Jedi Lyles.”

The tall, white-furred fox anthroid shook back his mane of black hair, unruly strands escaping the neat queue at the nape of his neck. Jedi Knight Aerion Lyles brushed his hands down the front of his rough spun brown robes. “Does the Council forbid me to go through with it?” He spoke calmly, though tension was visible in his slender frame.

A frown creased the face of the eldest Jedi Master, and his green fur ruffled around large leaf shaped ears. “Forbid we do not. Question your motivations in this matter, we do, Jedi Lyles.”

Aerion let his eyes fall for a moment, as though gathering his courage to speak. “I do this out of duty.”

Another Master raised a brow. “And what of your duties to the Jedi Order?”

A wry smile touched the Knight’s mouth. “I am hardly one of the Order’s powerhouses. The duty I speak of lies not in my calling, but in my birth. I am a Jedi, but I am still Lemorian.”

Several Masters exchanged looks. Jedi Lyles was a Knight of middling strength without distinguishing abilities to set him apart from the body of the Jedi Order. The only unusual circumstances surrounding him stemmed from his parentage- or rather that he was one of a rare few Jedi whose parents insisted on maintaining contact after he entered the Jedi Order. Aerion had been brought to the Temple at three years old, later than many younglings but still easily trainable. He had been raised on Coruscant among the other younglings, trained in the way of the Jedi as was proper. Still, his parents were head of one of Lemoria’s smaller but still prominent noble houses, and had demanded they be allowed to meet with their son at least once each year as a condition of allowing him to join the Order. Though unusual, the practice was not unheard of, thus the Council had allowed it. With fewer and fewer younglings found each year for training, it had seemed a simple request. It was clear now that it may have been a mistake. Though Aerion was past his fortieth standard year and the ties of parental bonds should have long faded, here he stood, requesting their leave to forsake the Order and return to his homeworld. His race was a long-lived one, and by his people's standards, Aerion was barely middle-aged.

“Please… Elaborate on this, Jedi Lyles.”

Aerion looked up. “To put it most simply, I have been called home in hopes of averting a political disaster.” A faint haunted look had risen in his eyes, giving him the air of a trapped thing. “The Queen Mother is failing. The Aristo Council has voted that she must step down and the Daughter-Heir replace her. There is precedent for it, but not all of the conditions have been met.” A strained edge entered his voice. “The Daughter-Heir must have a fertile mate as her consort, and viable offspring, before she can ascend the throne. Until then the Council is forced to tip-toe around the growing madness of the current Queen Mother.”

“Fascinating, this is.” The green furred Jedi Master tapped a clawed finger on the armrest of his chair. “But see how it involves you, we do not.”

The Jedi Knight took a deep breath. “The Daughter-Heir, Princess Candas, has had two attempts at finding a mate-consort already. Each attempt bound them for a year and was dissolved when no heir was produced.” He visibly steeled himself. “I am the next candidate on the list.”

A female Twi’lek Master scowled at him. “Jedi do not marry.”

Aerion’s voice was mild. “I beg your pardon, Master, but that is not entirely accurate. There are several bloodlines among the Corellian Jedi, for instance, who have always married.”

Her scowl deepened. “There is no passion, there is serenity.”

He nodded. “I agree, and were this a foolish child’s desire for a love match, I would not be here making this request. What I ask may save my people from years of chaos that may well devolve into civil war if it is not averted.”

Several Masters shifted uncomfortably. “The Jedi do not meddle in politics either. You know this, Jedi Lyles.”

His brown eyes had gained some measure of calm. “I did not ask to be called, no more than I asked to join the Order, but if my presence can put an end to the growing conflict, Jedi or not, I will chance it.”

“And if the Jedi Council should order otherwise?”

The white fox shook his head, sadness entering his gaze. “My decision was made before I came here, Masters. I had hoped for your acceptance, if not your blessing, but if you must brand me rogue, than so be it.”

Long moments of silence passed while the Council exchanged glances, communicating silently. Finally, the eldest spoke. “Unusual though it is, grant your request, the Council shall. Relieved of your duties here, you are, until such time, resume them you can.”

Aerion’s breath escaped with a soft sigh. “You have my thanks, Masters. It is my hope that one day I will be able to return.”

“It is our hope you return as well.” The Master who spoke turned grave eyes on the Lemorian. “Go to your new duties, then, but beware the Dark Side. Do not let the temptation for power draw you in and destroy all you have learned.”

The Knight bowed respectfully and took his leave.

In the soft murmuring that followed Aerion’s exit, the grave eyed Master turned to the eldest.

“I fear we will not see that one again.”

“No,” the eldest agreed, sadness coloring his tone. “Lost to us, he is, though turn on us, he will not. A good man, Aerion Lyles is. For other things than the Jedi, perhaps, he was meant.”

The other Master nodded, staring after the departed Jedi. Losing any of their number was always painful, even if it was only to another life.

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