In the vastness of a galaxy swept by the twinkles of distant stars, she arises—not by the force of will, but by the soothing of a pain most profound. Unknown are the reasons to her, Smaug, the mighty beast reawakened, finds herself amidst a landscape so sprawling it could rival the deserts of Tatooine, only here, amidst the celestial tapestry, tiny blossoms dare to brave the expanse, prompting from her a breath of disbelief.

And then... a glimmer in the odyssey of night. A figure emerges, hair long and beard flowing, not unlike the noble Jedi Master, Obi-Wan, yet distinct in essence. "Greetings, young one," the man beckons, his head bowing in an arc of respect. "It is an honor to stand before the one hailed as King Under the Mountain."

With a snarl curling her mighty lips, Smaug leans in, nostrils flaring like the engines of a starfighter as she sizes him up. Her gaze pierces the shadow, "You carry the scent of the twin Jedi," she rumbles deeply, "the very ones who dared to trespass into my realm."

The man's smile flickers, as faint as the light of a distant star. "Indeed, they were to be my Padawans, and the Togrutan you encountered, she is an apprentice to the long-haired one. I implore you, cease the slaying of their kind; this galaxy has been drained enough by the conflict," he urged with a voice as calm as the currents of the Force itself.

Smaug exhales, a heavy breath that speaks of eons and echoes through the stillness of the world. "I, too, have known death, yet the Force willed my return. The demise I've tasted is not for those men to endure at the hands of your so-called Republic," she retorted, recoiling as she encircled herself with her tail protectively.

"I seek no council with you, Jedi. I perished again; now let me abide in solitude."

The man shakes his head, his gesture a dance of stars caught in gravity's pull. "I am sorry, but the cosmos does not heed such simple wishes. On the brink of death, you may be, but gone, you are not," he spoke, extending a hand to touch the leathery texture of her snout as she poised to strike. "By the Force or by the Maker, I shall see you alive once more. Your destiny remains unfulfilled, Queen Under the Mountain."

In that instant, a coruscating blaze eclipsed all else, a light so vivid it seemed to merge all time into a single point. And then, the void embraced Smaug once more.

୨♡୧

With a groan that resonated like the hum of a lightsaber, Smaug opened her golden eyes—wide, wise, and ancient. Yet amidst the awakening, a new sensation encroached upon her being; it was as if weighty chains of beskar had been wrapped around her formidable form, constricting with every attempt to move. With a sudden jerk, she rose, her roar nearly escaping into a scream as the agony in her neck flared like the fiery engines of a Corellian cruiser. Frantically, her gaze darted about, trying to pierce the veil of the unfamiliar chamber now surrounding her.

The palette was subdued, a stark contrast to the brilliance of a supernova, and though it lacked the oppressive darkness of Thror's treasure hoard beneath the mountain, it still stirred within her a sense of entrapment. The scent that filled the air, a mixture of clone troopers and Jedi, was anything but pleasing to her senses, no more welcome than a Sith at a Jedi temple.

"Ah, I see you have regained consciousness," came a voice as comforting as the ambience of a Coruscant evening, yet tinged with the foreboding presence of the dark side. Her eyes met those of an elderly man, donned in the sumptuous red robes befitting the highest office of the Republic, his demeanor gentle, almost soothing, yet beneath that serenity, a tempest of dark intentions brooded, obscurities unbeknownst to the Jedi.

"Are you... a Jedi?" she inquired, her tone thick with suspicion, feeling the Force emanate from him but of a nature unlike any she had sensed before.

The aged figure laughed, a sound that might have been congenial if not for the shadow it cast. "No, dear creature," he replied, his head gently tilting in a motion of diplomacy, "I am the Chancellor. My name is Palpatine. A pleasure to finally meet you, Queen Under the Mountain."

With a sneer that could rival the malice of a Sith Lord, Smaug bared her formidable teeth, struggling against the chains that constricted her neck and chest, as unyielding as Mandalorian iron. The Chancellor's gaze did not waver. "You see, I must apologize for the restraints, but you made an attempt on the lives of some of my finest. I simply cannot allow such aggression to go unchecked," he intoned.

Smaug's eyes flashed dangerously, her contempt as palpable as the sweltering heat of Mustafar. "I would sooner see all of you burnt to cinders than submit to these pathetic bindings!" she growled, her voice resonating with the fury of a beast unleashed.

Troopers clad in the Republic's crimson and white armor emerged, their blasters trained unwaveringly on Smaug. Forced into a moment of silence, the great beast recalled the ignominy of her once downfall at the hands of these seemingly insignificant creatures. To face demise once more at the blast of a blaster was not her destiny; in that, she found her resolve to abide these mortals' commands—for the time being.

"Now, now, be at ease, my dear, your release will come in due time," the Chancellor assured with a nod to one whose helmet bore the mark of a fox. With those words hanging in the air like the distant echo of a bygone empire, Chancellor Palpatine swept from the room, his regal red robes trailing behind like a comet's tail.

The trooper with the fox crest exhaled a heavy sigh, his blaster tapping a rhythm against the cell's barrier. "You better behave, creature," he muttered with a tone as stern as the material of his armor.

Smaug feigned a grin, her imposing nature not daunted by the confines. "What is your name?" she demanded, her voice rich with the cunning of ancient sentience. The trooper tilted his head, an undetectable arch of the brow beneath the visor. "And why would that concern you?"

She snorted with derision, her tail thrashing against the restraints in a show of restrained power. "I would take pleasure in knowing the name of my esteemed jailor. It is not often one manages to hold me captive."

Sharing a knowing glance with his squad, a silent communication only brothers in arms could understand, the clone known as Foxesponded, a shade of respect in his voice. "I am Fox, sir," he stated, confirming his identity within the rigid structure of the Grand Army of the Republic.

Smaug huffed, her disbelief as smoky as the wisps she exhaled, which danced like spirits in the air. "Truly? Is that the designation these insipid fools assigned to you?" she probed, the word 'fools' lingering like a challenge.

The trooper simply nodded, his posture unchanged, aware of their conversation's peculiarity. "Well then, I am Smaug," she declared, reclaiming her own name with a pride undiminished by her bindings.

Fox bowed his helmet slightly, an acknowledgment wrapped in the irony of their circumstances. "Pleased to meet you, I would say, but, well, it is not so. You killed my brothers," his words were stark, laced with the grief of lost comrades.

With a shrug almost imperceptible under his armor, Fox turned away from the cell, and silence descended upon the hold like a shroud, thick with tension and unspoken questions. Would the animosity give way to an unlikely respect, or was the cell to remain a divide too vast to bridge? In a galaxy filled with alliances as shifting as sands on Tatooine, nothing was certain.