Beyond - Legends "The Shadow of Fate" (SJRS Challenge: Episode VII) Complete! 29 August

Thank you! Star Wars and their orphans, huh? And yeah, Luke can't help but look at Mara, even if she wants to kill him

It's not the first time Luke's attention has turned by a pretty redhead

Thank you!

Ah, yes, camping There is more Kara and Luke interaction coming up later, so I'm glad you enjoyed their dynamic.

In every universe, Luke and Mara get stuck in the woods and argue

Thank you!

A thin line between love and hate - Luke and Mara banter is one of my favourite things to write.

 

Chapter 12



1 NRE

Leia felt her stomach roil as she clumsily made her way to the Falcon’s refresher. She arrived only just in time, and retched into the bowl. Groaning, Leia sat on the ‘fresher floor for a few moments, head in her hands as the nausea began to subside. Then she pulled herself up to the sink and began to run the tap.

Leia washed out her mouth and patted some cool water on her flushed cheeks. As a small child she had suffered from hyperspace sickness, but over the years she had become so used to space travel that it rarely bothered her anymore. She hadn’t even eaten anything that morning, so it couldn’t be anything like that causing her stomach to flip-flop.

There was another option, and Leia counted back the days. It would still be very early, but absolutely possible. Leia recalled that in the frantic wedding arrangements, she’d forgotten to make an appointment to refresh her repress meds. The Falcon had no medical droid, so Leia would have to wait for confirmation until they returned to Coruscant. Unless...Leia closed her eyes and slowed her breathing as Luke had taught her, opening herself up to the Force.

She felt it almost immediately, a small burst of life in her womb that had not been there previously. Leia’s eyes snapped open as wonder and delight flooded through her. She was pregnant.

She and Han had talked about it, of course. One simply did not marry a man without making plans for the future, even vague ones. Han had always been enthusiastic and playful, telling her that he wanted dozens of children - at least enough to field a smashball team. She’d laughed and called him a nerfherder, and suggested that they start with just one, when the time was right.

There had been, however, a small niggling doubt in the back of her mind. It was likely that any child of Leia’s would be strong in the Force, an almost certain legacy of the Skywalker bloodline. Such strength and power posed as much danger as it did joy, and Leia feared that the child may not be able to cope with it. She and Luke thus far had avoided what some might see as a curse, if they knew about their true parentage, but what of Leia’s offspring - what of Luke’s, if he ever had any children? There was so much that was uncertain and dangerous that it had splintered her heart with fear.

And yet now that it had happened, now that Leia could feel the life growing inside of her that felt like the purest form of hope, she was no longer afraid. She was merely curious.

Leia retreated into the Force again, as Luke had taught her, allowing herself to be a conduit of pure energy. It was in this state Luke had been able to compel visions and tap into a Jedi’s precognitive abilities. Leia reached out to the Force, looking into the future to see what it beheld for her unborn child.

After a few minutes Leia pulled herself back, the visions unwilling to come to her. She had seen nothing, not a glimpse of what her child’s future would be like. Leia sighed with frustration, but reminded herself that she was still untrained in the way of the Force, and she doubted that precognition would ever be one of her strengths. Luke had told her that as a child he’d often experienced what he called a future sight, a perception of events that could unfold. It was what made him such a talented pilot; the ability to anticipate the next move and react accordingly. To others it seemed as if his reflexes were unbelievably quick, but Leia had observed a greater kinship between Luke and any machine he flew than mere luck or fast reaction times. He could sense the action before it happened.

However Leia was not jealous of his skills, for she had her own strengths. Her friend Winter used to call her a human lie-detector, since Leia could always spot a deception. It was a skill that had served her well in her Senate days, which was why her father had suggested she take his place to represent Alderaan, although she had only been fourteen at the time. Leia had since learned that her biological mother Padmé had been Queen of Naboo at fourteen, and Leia had wondered whether there had been a gift from her father Bail in that, since he could not share with her the truth.

Smiling to herself and resting her hand on her belly, Leia wondered what her child’s gifts would be. Surely the child would be strong in the Force, perhaps even a Jedi, and Leia had no doubt that they would inherit Han’s love of flying. It occurred to her that she should go and interrupt her husband’s work on the Falcon’s weapon systems, but Leia decided to wait. It was hard to get Han’s attention when he was working on his first baby, and Leia wanted the moment to be special.

So instead Leia made her way to the Falcon’s galley to make herself some rootgrass tea which would hopefully calm her stomach. She sat at the small meals table and sipped her tea quietly, the happiness of her newfound knowledge tempered slightly by the continued absence of her brother. Every day she could not feel him the Force made the hole in her heart wider, and Leia knew she would not feel complete again until they found him. What gave her more concern was fear that some tragedy had befallen him on Myrkr, and she was desperate to get to the planet herself and investigate.

Leia was halfway through her second cup of tea when Han ambled into the galley, wiping his hands on a grease-stained rag. “I’ve amped up the firepower for the quad-lasers by another 6 percent,” he told her proudly as he rifled through the stores for a snack. Leia knew Han was as concerned about Luke as she was and his focus on tinkering with the Falcon was merely the direction of his concern into something useful.

“Congratulations,” Leia told him with a small smile, enjoying the double meaning which she alone knew.

“Now the old girl’s got the best weaponry in the galaxy,” he turned around and grinned at her, leaning casually against the counter. “If I do say so myself. Lando's gonna keel over in jealousy when he sees it.”

Leia stood and slowly made her way over to her husband, resting her hands against his chest and looking up at him adoringly. She knew he would make a wonderful father and couldn’t wait to begin the journey with him, despite her previous misgivings. With Han beside her, she could do anything.

Overcome by the wave of love and gratitude for his presence in her life, Leia reached up and pulled Han’s face down to hers, kissing him firmly. He returned her kiss with added vigor, his hands running down her back and holding her tightly against him.

“What’s all this then?” Han chuckled when he pulled away, although still held her in his embrace. “Why the surge of affection, princess?”

“Because I love you,” Leia answered,and held his face in her small hands, his stubble pleasantly coarse under her touch. “Because you make me so happy.”

“And how is that different from any other day?” he joked.

“It’s different today,” she told him with a brilliant smile. “Because we’re going to have a baby.”

His look of shock was priceless, and Leia laughed lightly. “A baby?” he asked, dumbfounded. “How?”

Leia laughed again, throwing her head back in mirth. “You know very well how, you lunk,” she teased him.

“Well, yeah, but…” Han seemed blindsided, and yet could not keep the lopsided grin from his face. “This is incredible.”

“It is,” Leia agreed.

“What...what is it?” Han asked. “Can you tell?”

She focussed again inside of her, to the spark of life which jumped pleasantly at her touch. Leia grinned at her husband, filled with utter love and contentment.

“It’s a boy.”

__________________________________________________________


29 NRE

Mara sat in the commissary of the Jedi Temple, eating lunch with her daughter. She pushed her food around her tray absently, trying to force herself to take another bite of the poorly seasoned meat. It had been a while since she had eaten at the hall which serviced the Academy students, but she’d taken to opportunity to meet Cilla for lunch between classes.

“Master Solusar said I’m getting really good at telekenisis,” Cilla was telling her excitedly. “And I beat Alema in a duel today.”

Mara smiled at her daughter. “You’re still using practice sabers, right?”

“Yeah.” Cilla sighed theatrically. “I can’t wait to become a padawan and start proper training.”

“You have started your proper training,” Mara reminded her gently. “The foundation skills are the most important to learn, which is why you won’t get a Master until you’re sixteen.”

“You sound like Master Solusar,” Cilla pouted. “He made me do Archive duty twice last week - to learn patience, he said.”

Mara smiled to herself, and wondered if Kam had sent Cilla to the more tolerant Tionne for Archive work to give himself a break from the child’s exuberance. Mara loved her daughter dearly, and cherished Cilla’s eternal high spirits the boundless enthusiasm with which she approached life, but it could wear a person out. And yet she desperately hoped her daughter would never lose that joyous embrace for life - Mara herself had been so young when it was drilled out of her.

Cilla’s commlink buzzed, and she reached for it eagerly, smiling at the name which flashed on the small screen. “Can I answer, Mum?” she pleaded. Usually Mara forbade comm use at the table, but she was feeling particularly indulgent of her youngest that day.

“Alright,” Mara waved her hand in acquiescence and Cilla gave her a broad smile before popping in her earpiece and answering the call.

“Hey!” she said exuberantly, twirling the end of her blonde braid around one finger. “Nothing, just having lunch...yeah it’s totally gross, like usual.” Cilla listened for a few moments and then laughed. “No, I haven’t seen that one, send it to me!” She pulled out a datapad from her satchel and began typing, plugging in her earpiece to the device so she could listen to whatever her friend was sending her.

While Mara was happy to make an effort to listen to her daughter’s chatter when it was directed to her, she had no desire to suffer through a double dose of teenage exuberance. She pulled out her own commlink and put in her earpiece, punching in the coding frequency she knew by heart.

“Hello, Mara,” Karrde’s warm voice flooded through her ear. “It’s good to hear from you.”

“You need to organise a new catering for the Academy, Karrde,” Mara responded without preamble. “Even Cilla is complaining about the food, and she’ll eat anything.”

“Ah, yes, there’s been a bit of a problem with the usual supplier,” Karrde answered smoothly. “I’ve got someone on it, but I’ll make sure they make a trip down there to sort it out.”

“Why don’t you send Micah?” Mara winced at the plaintive tone in her own voice.

“Can’t, I’m afraid,” Karrde answered. “He’s already on a mission.”

Mara didn’t like the sound of that. “Where?”

“Mara…”

“Talon,” Mara cut him off before he could spout nonsense about secrecy. “Where.”

Karrde was silent for a long moment. “Corellia,” he said eventually. “He’s investigating the Human League - my sources think they’ve got something to do with the recent disturbance.”

Mara took a deep breath, forcing herself to run several Jedi calming exercises though her mind before speaking. “So you’ve sent my son to a volatile planet which recently suffered a terrorist attack,” she said in the most even tone she could manage. “Where he will implant himself amongst the xenophobic, violent group likely responsible.”

“I sent him to observe only,” Karrde said smoothly. “I specifically told him not to interact with them.”

Mara rolled her eyes. “He’s a Skywalker, Talon,” she reminded him. “If there was a way to make sure he’ll do something, it’s to tell him to do the opposite.” Mara sighed and rubbed her temple where a headache was forming. “Which I gather was your intention.”

Karrde cleared his throat uncomfortably, which confirmed Mara’s suspicions. “He’s twenty-one, Mara,” he added gently. “A man now.”

“He’s still my son,” Mara responded shortly. She trusted Micah’s abilities, and it was hardly the first dangerous situation he’d been in, but Mara had the proverbial bad feeling about the whole thing.

“Of course he is, Mara,” Karrde said evenly. “I would never forget that, and only ask of Micah what I feel he is capable of.”

“People are capable of any great number of things,” Mara said shortly. “That doesn’t mean they should do them.” For Mara, that had been a lesson hard learned. There were things she wished she'd never learned she was capable of.

“I know that, Mara.” Karrde’s voice was warm and sympathetic.

“Keep me informed,’ Mara said shortly and ended the call without waiting for a reply. She told herself that she should have been expecting something like this. Her danger sense had rattled the moment Micah said Karrde needed him back so soon after he’d been granted furlough. Or perhaps it had simply been prolonged exposure to the Skywalker tendency to throw themselves headfirst into dangerous situations.

It seemed to her that the more Micah tried to rail against his father and family destiny, the more it became clear how much like Luke he really was - an easy geniality concelaing and hard-set recklessness. Ben, on the other hand, although he followed his father’s path, was serious, sarcastic and proud, and more like Mara that either wanted to admit. And Cilla...Mara smiled as she watched her daughter chatter rapidly over the comm, trading commentary about a holo on her datapad. It was too soon to guess the path she would follow.

It was funny, Mara mused to herself; Luke had one son who desperately wanted to be like him, another son who wanted to distance himself from him as much as possible, and a daughter who, above anything else, simply adored him. It wasn’t such a terrible fate, Mara thought as she checked her chrono and saw that the lunch hour was over.

“Cilla,” she said to her daughter, trying to get her attention over the animated conversation. “Come on.”

“Okay, I have to go, Mum’s being annoying,” Cilla rolled her eyes. “Bye, CC….oh, that’s your new nickname.” Cilla laughed and listened to what seemed to be a loud reaction - even Mara could hear the indignant tone even though she couldn’t hear the words. “The more you protest, the more I’m going to use it,” Cilla added in a sing-song voice. “CC.” She giggled again and hung up.

Mara sighed and ran a hand over her eyes “Go to class, Cilla.”

_________________________________________________________

In one of the many practice rooms of the Jedi Temple, Jaina’s violet lightsaber blade met Mara's blue in a flurry of movement. She was only just managing to repel the forceful blows of her Master’s unrelenting attack. With increased focus, Jaina reached out to the Force, drawing on it for strength to hold off Mara's saber as she adjusted her footwork, slipping from Form V into Form VII.

Jaina knew that Mara disliked the erratic and uncontrolled nature of Juyo, although she had become a practitioner through extensive practice and a desire to add the tool to her arsenal. In combat her Master much preferred Forms IV and V, since they were more direct and less flashy. As Mara had told her many times, if you were in a lightsaber duel, you should not be concerned with showing off your style and proficiency, but finding the quickest and most effective way to win.

But she had taught Jaina Form VII on request, and Jaina found she liked the ferociousness and fire of the style. What Jaina hadn’t told her Master was that she had been studying the more aggressive aspect of form, Vaapad, on her own. She’d copied instructional holos from the Temple Archive and had been spending most evenings learning and practicing the fundamentals as dictated by Jedi Master of the old order Mace Windu.

Luke was the only Jedi of the New Order proficient in Vaapad, but he intensely disliked the style and discouraged its use. Still, Jaina was confident that she could master it, although she was painfully aware that one needed to be in a real combat situation to employ it properly. The style required one to channel their aggressiveness into the duel, and so it skirted the edge of the dark side.

Jaina allowed her frustration to simmer to the surface, channelling it into the battle and yet remaining seperate from those feelings and not allowing them to dip into the dark. However, she soon found that she had not practiced the form enough, and could not conjure up the required power. Jaina was quickly outmatched as Mara came at her with ferocious, precision-perfect attacks. It was an onslaught, and Jaina had never before appreciated that her aunt had always fought her in the guise of a tutor, the point of their duels to instruct Jaina, not to claim victory over her.

But something had raised Mara’s ire, and she’d found a way to unleash it in the sparring square. There was a wild moment of fear as Jaina lost her balance, her right arm flinging out wildly to parry Mara’s attack as she hurtled backwards to the ground. She could not keep the grip on her saber as it was knocked out of her hand by Mara’s blow, deactivating as it hit the sparring mat. Jaina landed heavily on her rear, somewhat dazed as she looked at her right hand which had come close to being sliced off. She almost thought she could feel the burn of Mara’s saber as it had narrowly missed her skin.

Mara looked down at Jaina. “Again,” she said.

Jaina rose obediently and called her saber to her hand, igniting the violet blade. This time she was ready for Mara’s brute force attack, and Jaina held her ground, trusting on her own strength to deflect Mara’s blow. The two sparred for a while after that, and Jaina was relieved when Mara stepped back and deactivated her saber, clipping it to her belt.

"Good," Mara told her approvingly. "Your stamina's improved." She moved to the corner of the sparring square and took a long drink from a water flask. Jaina joined her, the water soothing her parched throat.

"Thanks. You know I’ve been doing pretty well,” Jaina opined, trying to sound casual. “I think I might be ready for the Trials.”

“Do you now,” Mata’s smile was amused. “Too bad it’s what I think that matters.”

Jaina fought the urge to pout, knowing how much it irritated her aunt. “So when do you think I might be ready?”

“Don’t be so eager, Jaina,” Mara cautioned her. “It will not serve you well.”

“I know, I should be patient and calm,” Jaina recited. “But sometimes I can’t help but feel that I’m missing out things. I mean, look at everything you’d accomplished when you were my age.”

“I accomplished many things,’ Mara said sharply, and turned away. “But none of them good.”

Jaina looked down at her boots. Her aunt’s past as the Emperor’s Hand was an open secret, although Mara rarely brought it up unless specifically asked. And yet, Jaina couldn’t stop herself from pressing the issue.

"During the Clone Wars padawans my age were leading armies," Jaina argued. "They were given the chance to prove themselves."

"You've been on plenty of missions with me, Jaina," Mara reminded her, a warning in her voice. "But you know your Uncle's view on the matter, and I agree with him. We're not about to send children to war." Mara moved to the side of the practice room, picking up her robe and wrapping it around herself.

Jaina bit her lip, wanting to retort that she was not a child, but thought better of it. “I know Mom and Dad don’t want me to take the Trials yet,” she said softly. “They want me to stay on Coruscant, and that’s not fair. And you and Uncle Luke are conspiring with them.”

Mara turned back to her, her expression cold and stony. “You think I’m holding you back deliberately?”

“My training has been twice as intense as some of the other Jedi who’ve been knighted,” Jaina persisted, for now that she’d started this she was unwilling to back down. “I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to suffer because everyone is too overprotective of me.”

“Jaina, you don’t know anything about suffering,” Mara told her harshly. “You’ve never experienced it. Don’t you know how lucky you are?" she continued, a note of anguish in her voice. "You had the childhood that none of us did. So be angry at me, Luke and your parents if you like, but at least appreciate why.”

Suitably chastised, Jaina withdrew into herself. She knew very well that her parents as well as her aunt and uncle had grown up all but orphans in a hash galaxy, and couldn’t imagine what she would have done in the same circumstances.

“I do,” she apologised. “I’m sorry.”

Mara sighed and crossed her arms, regarding Jaina thoughtfully. “Do you know why am I so hard on you in training?”

“Because you enjoy inflicting pain?” Jaina said ruefully.

“No,” Mara answered, although a smile tugged at her lips. “I am hard on you because you are incredibly strong in the Force, Jaina. You could be the greatest Jedi of your generation. But power must always be tempered with restraint. It is because of your natural abilities that you must train harder, not despite them. You must be ready for temptation when it inevitably comes.”

A familiar shadow passed over Jaina's heart, an old fear resurfacing. “But I’ll never be as good as he would have been will I?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Jaina.” Mara looked away uneasily.

“Yes you do,” Jaina challenged her. “I'm talking about my brother. I asked Uncle Luke about it, and he told me that when he reached out to him in my mother's womb, he could sense how powerful in the Force he was going to be.” Jaina felt her lip tremble. "What he should have been."

Mara kept her gaze askew and sighed. “Luke shouldn’t have told you that. I would have lied, personally. But he can’t.”

“You told me about him in the first place,” Jaina pointed out.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” Mara shook her head. “I least I had an excuse - I was drunk and you were far too pushy."

"It wasn't fair for anyone to keep it from me," Jaina said, her temper flaring again. "I had a right to know."

Mara finally looked back at her, her face filled with pity and regret. "We were trying to prevent you from feeling exactly the way you are now."

"I could sense what Uncle Luke didn't want to tell me," Jaina continued with anguish, fresh pain which prevent the wound from healing. "They thought my brother was hope after the war, the first of the new Jedi children to carry on the legacy. He was meant to be the new Chosen One, and I’m just...the spare!”

“Jaina,” Mara grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. “Don’t talk like that, or concern yourself with what might have been.”

Jaina took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, but was unable to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks. She desperately missed the brother she had never known, the boy who should have been there for her to look up to, to teach her and keep her company and conspire against their parents with. Her whole life, she had felt as if something was missing, and ever since she’d found out what it was she couldn’t stop herself from dwelling on why. She reached out into the Force and felt a profound emptiness, an overwhelming sadness about what should have been, but wasn’t.

“Not everything is due to our own decisions and actions, or the machinations of the Force,” Mara continued passionately, squeezing her shoulders and forcing Jaina to raise her gaze. “There’s no great plan that has gone awry, or that you need to fix. Sometimes terrible things happen for no reason at all, and we must accept that.”

Jaina sniffed and nodded, knowing that her master was right. She felt Mara's soft touch through the Force, and allowed her aunt's presence to wash over her like a soothing balm. This was followed by Mara's firm embrace which Jaina accepted gratefully.

"You are not a spare or a substitute, Jaina," Mara whispered softly as she stroked her hair. "Above all else you are loved."

In her aunt's arms Jaina felt her equilibrium return, and while the wound did not heal and perhaps would never heal, the pain receded. Jaina resolved not to bring the subject up again, and to that night go to her mother in comfort and understanding. She’d been avoiding both her parents for the past few days, knowing that it was the anniversary of her brother’s death, but now Jaina thought perhaps it was finally time to be honest with them.

Mara’s commlink beeped insistently, and she sighed as she drew it from her belt and thumbed it on. “Yes?”

“Master Jade, Syal Antilles is here to see you.”

“Send her to my office,” Mara answered curtly. “I’ll be there shortly.”

Jaina didn’t miss her aunt’s discomfort, and knew that she’d not seen Syal since her broken engagement with Ben the previous year. Neither woman said anything in the short trip to Mara’s office, adjoining Luke’s in the centre of the Jedi Temple, but Jaina could feel her aunt’s unease.

Syal was standing at attention in the centre of Mara’s office, back ramrod straight and arms folded over her chest in the body language Jaina had observed in most NRI officers.

“Hello, Master Jade,” Syal greeted them formally as they entered. “Jaina.”

Mara’s face softened and she smiled wryly. “You’re too old now to call me Auntie, huh?”

Syal was flustered for a moment. “Of course not,” she said, a blush spreading across her pale cheeks. “I just thought…” Syal’s face broke into a smile and she laughed. “Aunt Mara.”

Mara swept forward and gave Syal a quick but firm hug. Whatever discomfort or displeasure she had felt about Syal and and her son, it had clearly faded upon actually seeing the woman she had known since her birth. Luke and Mara were Syal’s hold-parents, after all, and that connection was more important than any troubles between her and Ben.

“How are you, Syal?” Jaina asked, popping herself up to sit on Mara’s desk, for which she received an exasperated look. However Mara said nothing and merely took her usual seat behind her desk, facing Syal.

Syal sighed. “It’s been pretty tense at headquarters, as I’m sure you can imagine,” she told them, relaxing enough to take a seat and crossing one leg over the other. “New security protocols have been put in place, but there’s no telling if they’ll be able to slice through the encryptions on the datapad they stole. Director Ghent’s got a team on it.”

“Yes, well I think I might be able to help,” Mara said, and Jaina was surprised. She hadn’t been aware Mara was the one who had arranged the meeting with Syal.

“Chewbacca heard two lower-levellers talking about the breach, and they seemed to have information which was classified.” Mara took two pieces of flimsiplast from her desk and handed it to Syal. “I had Tionne sketch these from his description.”

It took Jaina less than half a second to recognise the pair in the sketch as they passed by her - a tall, purple Lasat and a human with dark curly hair. She remembered Quix’s sly grin and mocking words: there ain’t no secrets on Coruscant, me lovely.

“I know who they are,” Jaina told them, taking the flimsys from Syal to get a closer look. “Quix Treelaj and Petar Sillow - Zeb knew them in the old days.” She looked up and saw Mara and Syal’s surprise. “We saw them the night NRI headquarters was attacked.”

“Are you sure it’s them?” Syal queried.

Jaina nodded. It was too much of a coincidence, not to mention the fact that the Lasat race had almost been exterminated by the Empire years ago, and there would be precious few living on Coruscant.

“Do you think they were involved?” Syal asked.

“No.” Jaina shook her head. “They know something though.”

“Well we should pay them a visit,” Mara suggested.

“Let me and Zeb go,” Jaina jumped in, rising to her feet and turning to face Mara fully. “They might flee if a Jedi Master comes after them.”

Mara leaned forward on her desk, his fingers steepling together in contemplation. Jaina locked her gaze on Mara’s, asking silently for the chance.

“Take Syal for backup,” Mara decreed. “And be careful.”

 

The flashback - I adored Leia's discovery and the lovely H/L surrounding her telling him. These kinds of moments are among the most precious for a couple.

~

Enjoyed Mara's musings about her kids and her talk with Talon about Micah. Her thought about the things a person is capable and still shouldn't be doing - very insightful and true. And just because Micah is of legal age doesn't make her nights as a mother any easier with him going into a volatile, hostile situation with amoral individuals who have no scruples and even less conscience.

~

What Mara said to Jaina about not being a spare or substitute - Beautifully put. I love the close relationship between those two.

Looking forward to more clues surfacing with her and Zeb and Syal investigating.

 

Jaina's impatience reminds me of Anakin–hopefully she turns out better than Dear Ol' Grandpa.

 

I was thinking the same thing as Revanfan1. Jaina sounds just like Anakin with the 'poor mes'. Hope she gets her act together. Great job and thanks.

 

Really enjoyed these new chapters -- the guilty pleasure of falling behind is that you get to read all the new stuff at once. Really liking the Myrkr flashbacks with their slightly altered circumstances but the same tension and curiosity. And I found this part very interesting.

This version's Karrde seems to have found out part of Mara's past at some point. His words there are just right. It's funny, but he's a little like Luke in that he has that gift for seeing the best in people -- he just tries to direct it into the management of his organization.

Loved this description of what Luke senses. He's trying to be cautious, but still sees her humanity.

Okay, that's a bit of a chills moment. Fin is picking up on something that his father doesn't, and I'm curious to see how that turns out. Nice to see more development of Fin and Svel. I like seeing a Sith family where the members have some affection for each other. After all, liking your nearest and dearest doesn't necessarily mean that you're not also a menace.

Great to see more of some of the new characters, Micah and Kara especially. It's kind of sweet that Karrde is in a kind of mentor role to Micah, since he seems to have been the closest thing Mara had to a big brother or father figure. Kara's thoughts on the X-wing and her family were moving; it's a fascinating variation on the theme of legacies and so on that pervades Star Wars. She lost a great deal early in life, but she's gone and carried on their dreams in a new way. Jaina's digging into dangerous things -- worrisome given the visions. Her complicated feelings about Jacen make a lot of sense. Wonderful conversation with her and Mara.

 

Hi,
I haven't really read any fanfiction recently, in the last couple of years actually. Mainly because I didn't like the direction the profics (and as a result most fanfics) were taking. I landed here by accident (although there are no coincidences) when I was looking for spoilers for episode VII. I started reading and I wasn't able to put your story down. And after I was done reading what you've posted so far I caught myself looking forward to "picking up the book again" a couple of times- only to realize it's not a book and I have to be patient^^

So yeah, great writing job, thank you for sharing and I'm looking forward to more

 

cool chapter, i sense Jaina might be the new Anakin with her whining. but i gotta ask once we find out all of the new characters name in Episode VII: The Force Awakens will you replace these names with the "Canon" ones?

 

Well, you know how much I love this fic, girl. It's my canon, after all. I love the H/L scene. And Mara with her daughter. I always love Jedi Master Mara. As always, I can't wait for moar!!!

 

Yeah, I really liked the H/L scene. Their tone was perfect.

 

Thank you! Mara's a real mama bear, about her children as well as Jaina, no matter how old they are I think she'd still worry.

She is a Skywalker, after all She's kind of a mix of Anakin and Luke at the same age.

She's still young and trying to figure out her place in the galaxy - but she'll be getting to prove herself soon!

Thanks for the comments! Yep, Karrde sees the potential in Mara just like Luke does - they have a bit of a different backstory here than in Legends which I'll get into later. I always wish Karrde had more of a presence in Ben's life in Legends, and thought it made sense for him

A Sith family was interesting for me to write, since they're kind of the dark counterpoint to Anakin and Luke, but with the father corrupting the son instead of the son redeeming the father. For me Star Wars is all about family relationships and living up to legacies so I've tried to bring that in a bit with all of the characters.

Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying this fic! I didn't like a lot of what was going on in the profics either, so this is my chance to take the elements I liked and re-write that history.

Both the Skywalker and Solos are prone to a bit of whining, so Jaina can't escape her destiny! This is is already so far away from canon and I knew that going in, so I won't be replacing the names I've used with the canon ones. Although I hope it's not too confusing since I've called DRiver's character Fin in this fic and that's turned out the be the name of Boyega's character in canon! Funny old world.

Mine too - and thanks for the help, gal, it's been invaluable!

Thank you! I struggle to write H/L, so glad that came off okay.

 

Tags: Gemma



Chapter 13


1 NRE

It was the second day of their trek through the Myrkr forest, and Mara Jade was counting the hours until she could dispatch Skywalker. Of course, she’d promised Karrde she wouldn’t kill him, but Mara had come to accept it was a vow she was prepared to break. Once they reached the base it would be swarming with New Republic officers, and she would likely never get this close to Skywalker again. Mara went over in her mind the reasons why it had to be done. The final order from the Emperor. Justice for his death. Redemption for her previous failure. Revenge for what he had taken from her.

And yet she was no longer as certain of herself. His touch through the Force the previous night had unsettled her. The probe had only lasted a moment, and yet he had been pure, unfiltered light. It had been almost painful in its intensity, as if Mara had stared at the sun a moment too long. She had also felt the sincerity of his convictions, and knew that whatever else, Skywalker truly believed whatever he had told her.

But he still had to die. When they were closer to the base, when he let down his guard, she would do it. Mara’s hand rested briefly against the blaster which still hung in her holster. She’d been unable to fix it, and yet she kept possession of it just in case. She never went anywhere with an empty holster.

She glanced over at Skywalker, walking a few feet from her. Despite not sleeping the previous night, he seemed as fresh as a velanie daisy, and Mara felt a stab of jealousy. Whether it was his own stamina or the reprieve he’d given himself from the slight access to the Force he’d been able to achieve, Skywalker seemed unaffected by fatigue. Mara was simply thankful he hadn’t tried talking to her again, and they’d spent that morning’s trek in blissful silence. However that silence was soon broken by a rustling in the trees to their left, and Mara stopped short.

“Give me the blaster,” she demanded urgently as Skywalker drew level with her.

“Why?” he asked, his gaze following hers to the treeline where a large vornskr appeared. “Ah,” he added. “I’ll take care of it.” Skywalker ignited his lightsaber with a snap-hiss and moved to approach the beast when another appeared behind the first.

Mara heard more movement behind them, and whipped around to see another two creatures appear from the south-east. “It’s a pack,” she said anxiously. Skywalker gave her a worried glance, but handed her the blaster.

“Please don’t shoot me in the back,” he said wryly, and turned to the first two creatures.

“Don’t worry,” Mara replied. “When I kill you, I assure you the blow will come from the front.”

“Good to know.” There was a hint of humour in Skywalker’s voice and Mara rolled her eyes, thumbing the safety off the blaster and aiming it at the vornskrs. The first shot hit one directly between the eyes and it fell down to the earth, dead. The second proved more capable of evading her blasts, pawing at the ground and raising its hindquarters to pounce at her.

Mara ducked out of the way, barrel-rolling on the ground and getting off two shots, one of which hit the creature in the leg. It howled, but did not fall, and Mara backed away, searching for a better opening. In her peripheral vision she saw Skywalker had killed two of the creatures, but another two had appeared and he was engaging them in battle with his lightsaber. The creatures advanced on him, flicking their whip-like tails which Skywalker deflected with his saber.

Crouching low to the ground at the eyeline of her own vornskr, Mara let off a string of shots from her blaster, but the animal was agile despite its wounded leg, circling around her. It began to flick its tail angrily, and it was Mara’s turn to evade. She didn’t have a lightsaber to slice at or cut away the creature’s tail, and all she could do was watch it carefully to anticipate its next move while trying to get in a well-placed shot with her blaster.

One such blast hit the creature in the torso, and it howled in pain, lashing its tail out wildly. This time Mara was not quick enough, and the barbed end of the tail hit her in the back as she attempted to duck out of its path. She fell to the ground with a cry of pain, and the creature began to pounce on her, ready to make its kill.

But Mara’s reflexes were too quick, and she shot the creature twice in the chest mid-pounce. It fell to the ground, dead, and Mara sighed in relief. She looked over at Skywalker who was battling the last vornskr, and Mara pulled herself back up. He had succeeded in cutting off its tail and was now waiting for the creature to make it’s final move. When it did, Skywalker finished it in two quick strokes.

“I think that’s all of them,” she called to him. There was a tense moment when Skywalker turned to her, his stance still defensive and blade still ignited between them. But then Mara held out the blaster with the handgrip pointed towards him, and Skywalker gave a relieved sigh. Still, he did not deactivate his blade until he had taken the blaster from her and reholstered it.

“Thank you,” he said, and she wasn’t sure if he meant for returning the blaster or not making her move to kill him. Perhaps both. Mara probably should have taken the opportunity, but the vornskr attack had clearly demonstrated why it was safer to wait until they were closer to the base before making her move.

Mara turned away without answering, but the movement pulled at the wound on her back and she gasped involuntarily. The vornskr venom contained a mild poison, enough to stun a ysalamiri or other small animals that made up the vornskr’s prey, but was not strong enough to be of any real danger to a human. The area around the wound was growing painfully numb, which would be uncomfortable, but Mara wasn’t too concerned. She’d certainly had worse injuries in her lifetime, without the luxury of stopping to tend to them.

“You’re hurt.” Skywalker was at her side in an instant, his hand on her shoulder as he examined the welt on her back through the tear in her tunic.

“I’m fine,” she attempted to shrug off his grip, but Skywalker held her firm.

“No, you’re not,” he insisted. “You’ll get an infection.”

“I’ll tend to it when we make camp for the night,” Mara said dismissively.

“You can’t possibly reach that yourself,” Skywalker countered, his grip firm on her shoulder. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t want your help,” she said venomously, but Skywalker was not cowed. Instead he merely stared at her, his gaze intense and discomforting.

“Fine,” Mara told him, and he finally allowed her to pull her arm from his grip. If it would get them moving again quicker, she would relent. She sat down on a nearby log and Skywalker sat behind her, rummaging around in the survival pack for the medkit. Unconcerned with modesty, Mara removed her tunic, albeit carefully as the movement pulled again on her injury.

Skywalker’s hands were warm as he applied a healing stick to her back to draw out what he could of the poison, and despite herself Mara felt a cool relief pass through her as the pain subsided slightly. Even so, there was an uneasiness at the pit of her stomach, to be so vulnerable in front of him.

“Why are you doing this?” she heard herself asking, holding her tunic tightly against her chest as her fists clenched.

“You’re hurt,” Skywalker answered softly. “Why wouldn’t I help you?”

“Because I want to kill you,” she answered, as if it was obvious. To her, it was. “Because I wouldn’t do the same for you.”

“I live my life trying to do what’s right,” Skywalker answered as he applied a coat of cool salve with gentle fingers, making Mara shiver slightly. “Not what other people would do in the same situation.” He sighed and put a bacta patch over her wound. “And yet you still think I’m just a terrorist.”

“You say that as if it is my opinion rather than a statement of fact.” Mara carefully put her tunic back on, smoothing it down over her torso and swivelling on the log to face him. “What do you call the destruction of the Death Star if not an act of terrorism?”

“An act of self defence,” Skywalker’s chin tilted slightly in defiance. “And in defence of those who could not protect themselves.”

“You mean your rebel base?” Mara snorted derisively. “The execution of enemy combatants was perfectly legal under Imperial law. Yavin 4 was a military target.”

“Then what about Alderaan?” Skywalker challenged her.

Mara looked away and grimaced. In truth she had been as shocked as anyone when she’d heard about the planet’s destruction. Everyone had known that Bail Organa was the worst kind of traitor, but to destroy his entire planet? It was unheard of, and only succeeded in strengthening the rebel cause.

“That was Tarkin’s doing,” Mara insisted. “He was never authorised to take such drastic action.”

“I see.” Skywalker gave her a sardonic smile. “Because you know, I would assume that when a person orders the construction of a space station for the express purpose of destroying planets, their intention is to actually destroy them. Do you honestly believe that there was anything that happened in the Empire without Palpatine’s express approval?”

If Mara was honest with herself, she didn’t. “Even if that’s true, do you honestly believe that it absolves you for making that shot?” she challenged in return. “For taking all of those lives? Not just Imperial officers and stormtroopers, but tech staff, ground crew and other non-military personnel. People just doing their jobs, some of them conscripts.”

Skywalker looked down, and Mara rose with a weary triumph, brushing the dirt from her trousers as she began to walk away.

“Six million, three hundred thousand and eighty three.”

“What?” Mara turned back around, and saw that Skywalker was still sitting on the log. His expression was grave and haunted, but his eyes locked on hers and she was confronted by the intensity of his repressed emotions.

“That’s how many people were on the Death Star when I blew it up,” he continued. “Do you think I don’t know that their blood is on my hands? Do you think that their lives do not weigh on my conscience every second of every day?” His voice became pained and impassioned. “Do you think that when I am praised and lauded for that act, I feel anything but shame and bitter regret?”

Mara was silent, unsure of how to react to his outpouring of emotion. Ever since she had met him, he had been genial with barely a flicker of feeling above or below his sedate Jedi calm. Now she saw, as she had expected, that it had been a thin veneer concealing the passion beneath.

“But I choose to live with that, because I know that someone has to,” Skywalker continued, his voice was thick and gaze intense. “Because three billion people died on Alderaan when it was destroyed, and I couldn’t allow that to happen again. Not if I had the opportunity to stop it.”

“And you think that makes you noble?” she said derisively, determined not to let his outburst provoke the same in her.

“No,” he shook his head sadly, his passive mask once again falling into place. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

There was silence for a long time, Mara contemplating his words. Every time she thought he had him fixed, he subverted her expectations. Very few men had ever surprised her – in fact, she would almost admit that Skywalker was the first.

“Maybe we’re not so different after all, Skywalker,” she goaded him. “I agree that sometimes the direct approach is needed – that was my job, after all.”

She expected him to rail against this, to lecture her about his perceived evils of the Empire and the righteousness of the Rebellion, but he once again surprised her.

“Maybe we’re not,” he agreed, although he seemed sad and looked away. “We just fought on different sides.”

Mara didn’t know how to respond to that, and so once again turned her back and walked away, not knowing or caring if he was following. He did eventually, and Mara once again saw him on the periphery of her vision, and noted that he was walking closer to her than before.

“You think in absolutes, Mara,” he began, and she looked away. “I know because I used to think the same way. That it didn’t matter how something was done, as long as the outcome was good, the action was justified. But now I know how you do something matters as well.”

“My friend Han was once captured by Jabba the Hutt,” he told her, unconcerned with her lack of response. “My first thought was how easy it would be to kill Jabba and rescue him. He was a crimelord, after all, and I remembered all too well the suffering he and his relatives had caused on Tatooine. It would be a public service, I told myself. But then I realised that’s what my Master had once meant by starting down a dark path, and I knew that I couldn’t go in expecting to kill Jabba, it had to be a last resort. I had to give him a choice.”

“I know,” Mara told him, remembering Skywalker’s boldness standing in Jabba’s throneroom. “I was there.”

Skywalker looked at her quizzically. “Why?” he asked, and it took only a few moments for comprehension to dawn. “Oh.”

“The Emperor knew that Vader had wanted to make you his apprentice,” Mara said. “And he could not accept such disloyalty.”

“Isn’t that the way of the Sith?” Skywalker questioned. “To kill one’s own master and take a new apprentice?”

“It wasn’t Palpatine’s way,” she replied shortly, refusing to look at him.

“I see.” Skywalker was thoughtful. “So you were there to kill me. The rancor almost did the job for you,” he added lightly.

Mara did not need to be reminded that the brute creature had come closer to killing Skywalker than she had. In the end Jabba had refused to let her go on the sail barge, and so she had missed her chance. Complete and utter failure based on a simple mistake - whatever it had been - which had tipped Jabba off that she was not the dancer she had been posing as.

“What’s the point of your little story?” she asked in a clipped voice.

“To remind you that you have the same choice,” he said gently. “Palpatine is gone, and so you have the responsibility of your own actions now, Mara.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________


29 NRE

The skies were clear above Tatooine as Luke and Ben Skywalker flew in the upper atmosphere. They had circled the planet to look for threats near the south pole and were on the return journey towards Anchorhead. Despite their grim mission, Luke was enjoying the chance to spend some time with him, and they had been trading banter over the commlink like old friends. There had been limited opportunities for Luke to go on a mission with his son since Ben had been knighted, and even when he’d been a padawan Luke had been cautious not to show him any particular attention over and above the other students. It was the reason why Luke had not taken Ben as his own apprentice, and advised the other Jedi in his Order with children to make the same choice.

Luke looked slightly ahead where Ben was flying a black and orange StealthX, the best X-wing available. Whilst Luke appreciated the newer technology, he was old fashioned, preferring to stick with his classic T-65 model. He’d made a lot of modifications to the old girl over the years, and Artoo was so in sync with the systems it hardly seemed productive to upgrade.

“Don’t fall behind, Dad.” Ben’s teasing voice flooded through the comm. “I know it must be hard in that antique.”

“You’re confusing speed for efficiency, son,” Luke rejoined, a smile on his face. “A common mistake at your age.”

“That’s just what old people say to make themselves feel better,” was Ben’s retort.

“As opposed to what young and inexperienced people say to puff themselves up?” Luke teased.

“Make no mistake, Dad,” Ben replied. “I’m all substance, and no puff.” He performed a perfectly executed barrel roll as if to prove his point.

“Oh yes, no puffery at all in that move,” Luke said dryly. “Care to put your credits where your mouth is?”

“A race?” The glee was evident in Ben’s voice, and Luke briefly wondered whether he should be curbing his son’s thrill seeking behaviour rather than encouraging it. But he dismissed that thought as quickly as it had come, for he had learned that while calm and patience had its place, there was nothing wrong with enthusiasm.

“First one back to Anchorhead,” Luke decreed. “If I win, you can tell your Mom about that incident on Dantooine I covered for you about.” Taking the blame for that rather than Ben had caused Luke two weeks of irritated looks and under-the-breath mutterings from Mara.

“Fair enough,” Ben replied easily. “And if I win you can get Mum to stop bugging me about the Jedi Starfighter Corps.”

Luke grimaced, since he knew that was going to be a hard sell. For months Ben had been trying to organise the handful of adept Jedi pilots into a squadron, now that there were enough Knights to do so. Mara had disliked the idea, as she resisted anything that separated the Jedi from the regular population. She thought it was too showy, too much like the old order who had placed themselves above the rest. Those Jedi who were gifted pilots would serve far better spread out in the existing New Republic fleet or private enterprise. And yet Luke knew that his son wanted to prove himself, and was desperately seeking an achievement he could call his own.

“You’re on,” he told Ben, confidant that he would not have to follow through on the promise.

“Keep up if you can, old man,” Ben teased, and increased his thrusters, shooting off into the distance.

“Let’s show him what we’ve got, Artoo,” Luke told his little droid as he punched in a new flying sequence. His X-Wing surged forward through the atmosphere, quickly gaining on Ben’s StealthX within moments.

He heard the rumble of Ben’s laugh through the comm. “So you have the speed, Red Five,” he teased. “But do you have the stamina?”

“You’ll soon find out, Skycrawler,” Luke retorted, falling back on Ben’s childhood nickname that Leia had once bestowed on him. In return Ben huffed with displeasure into the comm, the use of the nickname having the desired effect in diverting Ben’s attention. Luke took advantage of Ben’s spike of annoyance, piloting his T-65 up and over Ben’s StealthX, the added height pulling him out of Ben’s airstream and allowing Luke to maneuver his craft a nose ahead.

But then Luke felt his stomach drop and his good mood evaporate. “Wait,” he called to Ben over the comm, who immediately reduced his speed.

“I felt it too,” Ben answered and slowed down to hover nearby. Luke pulled his X-Wing down into the lower atmosphere, the desert vast and red below him.

“Artoo, I’m going to start the landing cycle,” Luke advised, and the little droid tooted an affirmative response. “Ben, on my wing.”

“Got it.”

The Jundland Wastes below them were not an unfamiliar site to Luke, and yet they never failed to fill him with slight dread. Young sarlaccs were plentiful here, and the Sand People roamed the area freely and without restraint. They had skirted the area in their earlier investigations of the dark side presence, visiting Ben Kenobi’s hut on the outskirts of the Wastes. Luke had felt the taint of the dark side at that location, and knew that their quarry had been there before them. But the Wastes were perilous, and if the Sith did not fear the wilds it meant they were even more dangerous than Luke had feared.

He directed Ben to land their ships in a relatively safe area, where Luke could sense that there was no sarlacc lurking directly beneath or Tusken camp nearby. Luke climbed down onto the rocky ground, feeling sick to his stomach. He looked over at Ben, who was still in the cockpit of his StealthX, although he had removed his helmet and was running a hand through his shaggy ginger hair. Luke didn’t miss that his already pale skin was even whiter than usual.

“It’s alright, Ben,” Luke called out to him. He felt a flash of annoyance and shame through the Force, and Ben hurriedly jumped down onto the ground.

“I wasn’t scared,” he defended himself, and Luke did not press the issue. He’d felt the dark side many times in his life, more powerful and ugly than what he sensed now, but Ben had never been so close to it before. Luke knew that his son was far more sheltered and innocent that he himself had been at twenty five, and was glad for it. Yet that lack of experience meant that the increased intensity of the dark side presence was going to have a stronger effect on him.

“The Sith is here somewhere,” Luke said quietly as Ben approached.

“So that’s why the place smells like death,” Ben said, wrinkling his nose distastefully.

“No,” Luke corrected him. “It is fear you sense.” He knelt down on one knee, placing the palm of his hand flat against the red rock to reach out the the creatures lurking nearby below the surface. “The sarlaccs are afraid.”

“Is the Sith below us?” Ben crouched down next to him.

“Nearby, perhaps.”

Luke reached out through the Force, pushing his way through the cloud of darkness to pinpoint its source. Scraps of his visions assaulted him again; the half-mechanical man grasping Darth Vader’s helmet, the child crying in the wood while he searched blindly, Jaina with her blood-red blade. Luke pushed the images aside, refusing to be distracted by them and instead focussing in on the source of the dark side.

He could feel it, and Luke grasped the presence, trying to locate it in the vast wastes. Yet the presence was slippery, thick shields folding in around it to block Luke out and prevent him from touching it further. Then Luke felt a spark of panic from elsewhere, perhaps the very edge of the Dune Sea - another dark side presence which was more refined and yet not as powerful as the first.

Luke emerged from his trance breathless, and saw Ben regarding him with worry.

“Did you find him?” Ben asked.

“Too difficult to see,” Luke him, feeling weary and slightly nauseous after the exposure to the dark side. I

“But it is a Sith?”

Luke nodded. He’d been sure before, but now there was no doubt, for the presence he had felt was as warped and bitter as Darth Vader’s and Palpatine’s had been.

“Master Yoda said this of the Sith in his holocron,” Luke told him. “Always two there are, no more, and no less.” He should have realised before that the darkness he’d felt belonged to more than one being, and yet Luke had wanted to believe he was mistaken, that the Sith had not returned.

“Two?” Ben’s brow was furrowed.

Luke nodded. “A Master, and an apprentice. It seems they’re both here on Tatooine.”

 

Oh, the flashback! Loved, loved, loved it!!!!!!!!!! LOL on the father/son banter about puffery and young versus old fogies Then yikes! Glad Luke and Ben have localized the Sithly presence.

 

(The posters in the background are a convenient coincidence. XD)

 

you ever thought about using the lines from the Teaser trailer in your story "There's been an awakening....Have you felt it? The Dark side...and the Light."

 

Okay, now that I can articulate a little more coherently - I can't emphasize enough how much I love this interpretation of Myrkr. Luke gets to make his arguments intelligently and candidly, letting him have some more of the spotlight in this scenario without diminishing Mara and thus enabling the two of them to get to know each other more quickly than they did in the profic. It's like EU Plus. All the relationships and characters are so well-thought-out and a joy to read, a feast for the eyes, even for the villains.

 

Love Myrkr, love Luke and Ben racing, love this fic.

 

I just love this entire chapter. I love the flashback, especially the ending line, and I love Luke and Ben racing. Perfect chapter is perfect, lady.

 

Now I want to know what Ben did on Dantooine. It was real nice to read an enjoyable outing between Luke and Ben. Just two guys hanging out. Super job and thanks.

 

What she said!

 

Thanks! By GFFA standards, Luke's not that old, but I'm sure it seems that way to his children

I don't think so, simply because I don't think it will fit in with the themes of the story I've come up with. So far I've tried to incorporate some of the rumors, information and spoilers we've heard so far, but with the teaser coming out and giving us more information it's become very clear that my fic is totally different from what we'll see on screen and it would require some major twisting and revising to include the latest info. So from here on out you probably won't see many more nods to canon.

I have the advantage of prequel knowledge, so Luke can make logical arguments as to why the Empire was evil, and Mara can give her perspective in return, which was very important to me, because why wouldn't Luke want to convince her that he's not a scumbag and that Palps really was a totally evil dictator? He would, especially since his life is on the line.

Thank you! I really wanted to give Luke and Ben a bit of a healthier relationship than in Legends.

Thanks gal! The last line is of course a little nod to TPM, as well as to finally set the plot in motion!

Something very reckless! But he's a Skywalker, it's expected. Although Luke and Ben got closer in FOTJ, I was always a little sad their reltionship was so strained in the profic, so in my version it's happy families (for now!)

Thank you!

 

Tags: Gemma



Chapter 14


1 NRE

Night had fallen on Myrkr, and Mara sat cross-legged on her sleeping pallet, shifting uncomfortably. The wound on her back ached, she was exhausted, and yet she knew that she would not get any more sleep that night than the previous one. Her body was screaming for rest, but she would not permit herself that weakness. If Skywalker could stay awake, then so could she. Mara popped another stim-pill in her mouth and forced herself to concentrate.

They were running low on ration bars, and so Skywalker was roasting some kind of quail he’d hunted over an open fire. Mara took the opportunity to study him, desperately trying to understand the contradictory man she was honour-bound to kill.

The firelight heightened the shadows on his face, and for the first time she could see that he was just as tired as she was. But there was more, a deep sorrow he carried that had not been visible in the sunlight, a weight inside of himself that he took pains for others not to see. It was the look of a man with millions of deaths on his conscience, as he’d admitted earlier that day. And yet his regret in the action was obvious, and Mara couldn’t quite understand it. She’d never regretted any life she’d taken, because she had been dispensing justice.

Skywalker handed her one of the quails, and she tucked into it gratefully. After a long day of travelling, she was famished. As, evidently, was Skywalker. He wolfed down his own bird with such gusto Mara thought he must have swallowed a bone or two.

“How’s your back?” he asked when he was finished eating.

“Fine,” she replied shortly, although in truth every time she moved the tight skin around the wound pulled back, sending slivers of pain through her shoulder blade.

“I can change the bacta patch, if you like,” he offered.

“No, I wouldn’t like that.” Mara knew however that it had to be changed to prevent infection, and gave a resigned sigh. “But do it, if you’re so concerned.”

Skywalker smiled and cleaned his hands. Mara removed her tunic again as he moved to kneel behind her with the medpack. She held her back ramrod straight, shivering slightly in the cool night air that filtered through the trees. Skywalker carefully peeled off the soiled patch, and used a healing stick to clean off the excess salve and dried blood.

“If I could locate a Force bubble, I could try and heal it,” Skywalker offered. Mara had seen him flittering about earlier in the clearing they’d chosen for the night, trying once again to find a gap through which he could access the Force, but he’d been unsuccessful and had given up.

“Don’t bother,” Mara told him as he applied more salve to her back. “It will only take a couple of days to heal.”

“You’re very brave.” Skywalker sounded impressed.

“Hardly,” Mara said shortly.

“You’re probably right to be sceptical,” Skywalker said genially, as if to simply make conversation. “I’m not the most gifted healer, although I practice. My sister Leia has a great aptitude for it.”

He was speaking of Senator Leia Organa, Mara realised. His sister. In the days of the Empire, Mara had seen her around Coruscant, and had only paid her mind as the daughter of a known traitor, and a suspected rebel herself. She’d never been able to find proof of Organa’s treachery, though, and Mara wondered if that had been due to the woman’s latent Force sensitivity.

Skywalker carefully applied a bacta patch to her back, smoothing it down with gentle fingers. “All done,” he said cheerfully, and waited until Mara put her tunic back on before he moved back to his seat across the fire. The farmboy modesty almost made Mara smile.

“So what do you want to do?” Skywalker asked.

“Do?” Mara raised one sceptical eyebrow.

“Come on, Mara,” he rolled his eyes. “Sitting around in silence yesterday made it one of the longest nights of my life. It won’t kill you to talk to me.”

Mara smiled at his interesting choice of words. “I don’t know what to talk about.”

“We could play a game,” he suggested.

“A game?” Her voice was dripping with derision.

“Yeah,” Skywalker smiled and nodded, unoffended. “Something to pass the time.”

“I don’t know any games.”

“What, you never played games as a child?”

Mara pursed her lips. Her childhood was one of study and training - there had been no time for frolicking or frivolity. “It was not permitted.” A shadow of sympathy crossed his face, and she turned away, sickened by his obvious concern.

“Well, I know plenty,” Skywalker said smoothly. “How about the truth game? It’s a good way for people to get to know each other.”

She stared at him, unable to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

“Basically we ask each other questions,” Skywalker continued, either oblivious or unconcerned about her reaction. “And you have to tell the truth. We used to play it in Anchorhead - if you didn’t answer you had to take a drink of moonshine.”

“Sounds like fun,” she said dryly.

“Come on,” Skywalker goaded her. “There must be some things you’re dying to know about me.”

“But then I have to tell you something in return?”

He grinned. “That’s the way it works. Ask something too personal, and you’re bound to get the same back. It’s a game of risk…and reward.”

Mara rolled her eyes and sighed, somehow knowing that he would not let the matter drop. And yet a small voice inside of her whispered that it provided the perfect opportunity to learn more about him in hope that he would reveal a weakness.

“Come on - I’ll let you go first.”

She knew what he was trying to do – humanize himself in her eyes so that it would be more difficult for her to make the killing stroke when the time came. It wouldn’t work, she promised herself, and so asked him the most banal thing she could think of.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Skywalker looked surprised, but then smiled genially. “Green,” he told her. “It reminds me of the forest. I never saw one until I left Tatooine.” He looked at the surrounding trees for a few moments, as if cataloguing everything he saw for future study and contemplation.

“I would ask you what your favourite colour is, but suspect you don’t have one,” he said as he turned back to her. Mara shrugged; it was a fair assumption.

“How old are you?” he asked after a few moments consideration.

“How old are you?” she shot back, not caring that she wasn’t playing by the rules of his stupid game. Mara wasn’t sure why she had reacted in such a way to a harmless question, but for some reason it had irked her.

Skywalker, however, didn’t seem too bothered. “Twenty five,” he answered.

She had known that, of course. Mara wasn’t sure why she had asked him. “I’m about the same,” she conceded. “I think.”

“You don’t know?” Skywalker gave her another sickening look of concern and pity.

“It wasn’t important,” she dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “My turn,” she changed the subject.

“No it’s not.” Skywalker furrowed his brow. “I asked you how old you were, and you asked the same of me. I’m next.”

“Then you asked whether I knew how old I was,” Mara smirked.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Fine.”

“How did you find out about your sister?” Since he had mentioned her, Mara was curious. The whole story had never really made sense to her, since the Rebels had only released the information regarding Skywalker and Organa after Endor.

When Skywalker’s smile widened, the sorrow seemed to melt off his face. “I always thought we met by chance,” he began, that faraway look in his eyes again as he reminisced. “She came to Tatooine to enlist the help of Ben Kenobi-”

“Ben?”

Skywalker looked back at her, shaken out of his reverie. “Obi-Wan,” he clarified. “He called himself Ben when I was growing up. Obi-Wan Kenobi was this great man,” he continued a little sadly. “Hero of the Clone Wars, master of Soresu and one of the greatest Jedi who ever lived, at least according to the records I’ve found. But Ben Kenobi - he was the man who once found me when I crashed my speeder in Beggar’s Canyon and patched me up so that my Aunt Beru wouldn’t worry. I always wondered why he was so far from his home, but now I know that he was watching over me.”

It was difficult not to get caught up in his story. Mara had read about Obi-Wan Kenobi as well, supreme traitor to the Empire. In the holos she had seen and the events she had read about he had always seemed calculating and cold, not at all the warm presence Skywalker described him as.

Skywalker was silent for a few moments before he came back to himself and turned his attention to Mara again. “I found out about Leia just after the assault on Jabba’s Palace,” he said, although he looked uncertain, as if reluctant to share the information. “Master Yoda’s final words were that there was another Skywalker, and then Obi-Wan appeared to me and told me I had a sister. I felt that it was Leia - with that knowledge everything made sense.”

“Why didn’t Kenobi tell you when he was alive?” To Mara it seemed unfathomably cruel, not only to separate the siblings, but to not even tell Skywalker about his sister when their intent was to rescue her. Mara didn’t understand how Jedi thought at all.

“It’s my turn,” Luke reminded her. “I get to ask another one before I’ll answer that.”

Mara had momentarily forgotten about the game, and berated herself inwardly. “Then ask,” she said in a clipped voice.

“Do you remember your parents?”

Mara looked away and bit her lip. That was exactly the kind of question she’d been afraid of.

“I’m sorry,” Skywalker added gently on her reaction. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“No, it’s only fair,” Mara responded, steeling herself. “I remember my mother a little,” she said quietly, locating the long-buried memories which flooded her with sadness. “She had red hair, too.” She couldn’t remember her mother’s face, but had a vague sense that she had been a warrior, or at least Mara recalled that her embrace had been hard and cold because of the armor and breastplate she’d often worn. Her father she had no memory of at all.

“I don’t know why Yoda and Obi-Wan kept secrets from me and Leia,” Skywalker said softly in return. “I suppose they thought they were protecting us.” He was silent for a few moments and then looked back at her. “How did the Emperor find you?”

Mara shifted uncomfortably, looking down at her hands. She wanted to answer that question even less than the previous one, but for some reason the words began to spill out of her.

“I was five, I think,” she began. “There was an attack - all I remember was that I was alone, and hiding. But Vader found me,” Mara’s voice became hard. “He ignited his lightsaber…” Mara shivered at the memory, his blood red blade the only light in the room as he advanced on her. Skywalker looked stricken, as if the information wounded him deeply.

“The Emperor stopped him,” Mara continued. “He took my hand, and told me that he was going to look after me.” She looked away to escape Skywalker’s obvious emotion and once again his look of sadness and pity. And yet the memories refused to fade away, the remembered fear clutching at her as she hid in the closet, trying not to breathe and give away her position. But Vader had sensed her, even though Mara had tried to make herself invisible. It had been instinctual as well as practiced even at that young age. What little she could remember of her mother included her firm demands that she hide her abilities - all those who had such tendencies were either evil or corrupt, her mother had said. No good could come of the Force or Mara’s use of it.

But the Emperor had been so kind to her when she’d been convinced to tell him her secret, saying that while Mara’s mother had been correct that the Jedi were evil, her abilities did not make her so. Why, he himself used the Force, Palpatine had explained to her, and hadn’t he rescued her from the same fate that had befallen her mother and compatriots? She’d been constrained and caged by her mother’s decree, Palpatine had continued; he wanted her to fly.

Mara’s abilities made her special, he had promised her. They made her useful, if she knew how to use them.

And she believed the Emperor's word without question, placing all of her faith and trust in the man she believed had saved her. At the time she had him distanced Vader's actions in destroying her home and massacring her family. But if she was honest with herself, she knew that Vader had been acting under Palpatine's order, and that she had been stolen, rather than saved. Had they come specifically for her, she wondered, or had she been an opportunistic acquisition in an attack which had been for another reason entirely? She supposed it hardly mattered.

When Mara shook herself out of her daze she felt Skywalker’s insufferable gaze on her, and she turned her mind back to her mission.

“What would you say your combat weaknesses were?” she asked shortly.

Skywalker laughed heartily. “And here I thought I’d almost won you over,” he said teasingly. “I guess I would say I’m not good at strategy. I tend to fling myself into a battle and trust my instincts to guide me, rather than wait and plan the best approach.”

That was interesting, and Mara filed the information away. He'd certainly employed a successful strategy at Jabba's Palace, however ill-conceived it appeared at the time. But it seemed that it was the exception rather than the norm, that Skywalker was reckless and easily swayed by his emotions - hardly the traits of a true Jedi.

“How long have you been working for Karrde?” Skywalker asked as his next question.

“Two years,” Mara answered without even needing to think about it.

She saw him make quick calculations in his mind. “Since Endor.”

Mara nodded. “After I failed at Jabba’s Palace I went to Sullust, where your Rebel Fleet was in orbit,” she told him. “Karrde and his crew were there – they were probably the ones who sold your location to the Emperor by the way.” She looked for his reaction, but he only shrugged, as if the information was unimportant to him. “I was figuring out a way to smuggle myself aboard the Rebel flagship when the fleet left the system.”

“I wasn’t there anyway,” Skywalker pointed out. “I’d left for Endor with the strike team the day before.”

“I know that now.” Mara grimaced. “I was with Karrde when the Emperor died – I’d met him before, he’d even given me information a few times. I figured he might know what the Rebel’s plans were.”

Mara remembered that dark day – she’d felt the Emperor’s death with such force and shattering pain that she’d passed out. Karrde had been there when she woke up – he had been so kind to her, not even asking any questions even though he suspected that she was an Imperial agent and not a bounty hunter as she’d always claimed. He could have left her there to die, but he hadn’t. He could have blackmailed her into his service, or turned her over to the Rebels. Instead he’d taken care of her, given her a job and eventually made her his second-in-command. She owed him.

But she couldn’t tell Skywalker that – couldn’t show him such a weakness. “I’ve worked with him ever since.” Silence fell between them again, the only sound a light pop from the wood in the fire as it broke down into ash.

“Your turn,” Skywalker said softly.

Mara gave the matter serious consideration, and after a few moments the question became clear. It was something which had been on her mind ever since the Emperor’s death, something she’d been wondering about ever since deciding he’d told her the truth in his version of the events on the second Death Star.

“Why did Vader save you?” she asked. Mara knew she’d struck a nerve when Skywalker looked away, wringing his hands nervously. “You’ve always claimed that Vader turned on the Emperor, killed him and died in the process,” she challenged him. “Why did he do that?”

“Vader...had once been a Jedi Knight,” Skywalker said eventually, and Mara could see that he was choosing his words carefully. “He fell to the dark side, and served it for so long that not even he believed there was a chance to return to the light. But I felt there was still good in him.” Skywalker seemed far away, his gaze fixed at a spot above her shoulder. “He came to realize that Palpatine was his enemy, and I was not. And in saving me, knowing that it would cost his own life...he became a Jedi once more.”

Mara stared at him for several seconds, her eyes narrowing. “I thought the point of this game was to tell the truth?”

“That is the truth.” Skywalker refused to look at her.

“But not all of it. There’s something else,” she pressed, enjoying her advantage over him for perhaps the first time that night. But he was silent for several moments. “It’s your game, Skywalker,” she said coolly, turning away, disappointed.

“He was my father.”

Mara turned back to him in shock. “What?”

“Darth Vader,” he said, his eyes finding hers again. “He was my father.”

“Your father was Anakin Skywalker,” she argued. She’d discovered the records herself, and the Rebels had even issued a press release confirming it.

“Yes,” Luke nodded. “I told you Vader had once been a Jedi.”

Bitterness settled in the pit of Mara’s stomach. Anakin Skywalker. The Hero Without Fear who the New Republic had worshipped as the sire of their savior Jedi, who had been cast as a heroic martyr in their revisionist history. He had been Vader, all along.

“So he murdered the Emperor to take you as his apprentice.” Mara had suspected as much, and their familial connection explained why Vader had sought Skywalker out.

“No,” Luke said emphatically. “I told you, he turned back to the light. The Emperor had me in the grip of his Force lightning, would have killed me because I refused to turn to the dark side. My father killed the Emperor to save my life, knowing that he would die in the process.” He swallowed heavily, his eyes locking with hers. “You asked why he saved me,” Skywalker continued. “He did it because….he loved me.”

Mara looked away, unsure of how to process his words. “The Sith do not love.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re lying,” she insisted, deeply confronted by his words.

“I think you know I’m not,” Skywalker pressed. “I think you’re starting to wonder about all the little things that didn’t add up, the assignments the Emperor sent you on that you didn’t agree with, the horrible things you saw but dismissed because you were taught there was a greater good.”

Mara couldn't help but feel wounded. "You're asking me to believe that my entire life was based on lies," she said, her voice stripped and bare.

But Skywalker looked at her kindly. "I think you already believe that, Mara," he replied softly. "I'm only asking you to accept it."

Mara turned away from him abruptly, lying down on her sleeping roll and wrapping her arms and the blanket around herself. Even though she would not allow herself to sleep, she didn’t have to look at him, or listen to his words any longer. She heard Skywalker sigh and settle down himself, not trying to press his advantage any further.

Darth Vader was Luke Skywalker’s father. The fact kept running itself over in Mara’s mind, almost driving her mad. The Emperor must have known, and been concerned about Vader turning against him for the sake of his son. And yet Palpatine had not confided in Mara when he’d given her the order to kill Skywalker. He’d told her that Vader planned to use the boy to overthrow him, and therefore her actions were subverting treason as well as eliminating a dangerous rebel leader. But now, knowing the truth, Mara could not escape one sickening realisation.

The Emperor had lied to her.


*************************************************************************


29 NRE

The Spires Social Club was the most exclusive gathering place on Coruscant, with closed membership which catered only to society’s elite. It was located at the very top of the tallest building in the Senate District, with athletic clubs, bars, restaurants and other offerings within the plethora of sharp spires which jutted from the building’s apex.

Trevin Ravenlok was greeted by name at the door, granted entrance immediately and his usual table prepared. An aide quickly appeared to help Trevin from his repulsorchair into the booth, and another brought him a glass of one hundred year old Whyren’s Reserve.

It had been a long afternoon, and although Trevin was less involved with the day to day running of his businesses, he seemed to tire more easily. He was therefore grateful to relax with his whiskey in peace without the interruption of mining assessments, stock reports and partnership enquiries.

Following the fall of the Empire, Trevin had not taken up the rank and position offered to him in the New Republic, instead choosing to continue with private enterprise. So many of his colleagues and friends and been grateful for the amnesty offered by the new government and their eagerness for a smooth transition back to a Republic. And yet Trevin hadn’t been able to stomach it, not when he’d been such a staunch supporter of the Empire.

In the days following the Clone Wars he’d courted prestige from the Emperor who had been willing to grant power and wealth to his supporters among the aristocratic houses. Palpatine himself had been nobility, although it had been from a backrocket like Naboo. Still, his breeding and sense were clear to everyone, and Trevin had rejoiced when the disorganised and fractured Republic had been reformed into a stable and secure Empire. Trevin’s wife, three sons and eldest daughter had all died in the Clone Wars, leaving only his youngest daughter Sidel, a mere child of four. After years of bitter conflict and war, the Empire seemed to herald a new age of peace and prosperity.

Under Trevin’s leadership, the House of Ravenlok had reached new heights of influence, and he had been made Moff of the Bormea sector. He’d given his daughter Sidel everything he could, since the rest of their family was all gone. The finest education, and when she was old enough responsibility over his business interests on Coruscant; a lifestyle any being would be envious of. He’d even arranged for a union with the younger son of the House of Delrond, one of the oldest and richest families in the galaxy.

Yet when he’d returned from Chandrila, he found Sidel changed. She’d not only thrown her lot in with the rebels, but had secretly married one of them - a fighter pilot with no family or breeding.

Trevin remembered that day with a clarity that was almost blinding. Sidel had looked at him, unashamed and unrepentant, and said that if Trevin loved her, if he truly wanted her to be happy, he would join them as well.

The Siege of Coruscant had already lasted weeks at that stage, and Trevin was not blind to the fact that the rebels had already won, and it was only a matter of time before the Empire’s death knell. And yet he could not deny that his daughter’s pleas had been more effective than the logistics of defeat. That day, he had surrendered his fleet and the Bormea sector to the Alliance. Others quickly followed, although that did not dislodge the bitterness Trevin still felt as a turncoat.

Trevin was distracted from his musings by the approach of a familiar white-haired figure. He was pale and dressed in the blue and orange robes of the NR Senate, a not unusual sight in the Spires.

“Trax Avarice, my old friend, how are you?” Trevin greeted him. “Still clattering around that hen-pen of a Senate I see.”

The Senator chuckled. “Good evening, Trevin,” he said as he slowly slipped into the booth opposite. “Duty is a demanding mistress, I’m afraid.”

“I do not envy you, my friend,” Trevin said genially. “Have you thought about retirement?”

“Not while Organa is Chancellor,” Trax grimaced. “Sometimes I feel as if I am the last line of defence against a rebel insurgency. Perhaps I am the rebel now,” he chuckled to himself. A waiter appeared and placed a gin and tonic before Trax, who took a sip from it gratefully.

“I know how you feel,” Trevin commiserated, sipping his whiskey.

“Speaking of which, how is your young granddaughter?” Trax asked. “She is a Jedi, is she not?”

“Yes,” Trevin frowned. “Kara was knighted five years ago.”

“She was Skywalker’s apprentice, as I recall,” Trax continued. “A high honour, at least in the eyes of some.”

“Skywalker,” Trevin huffed. “Nothing but ‘Rim scum, that one.”

“I know what you mean, old friend,” Avarice nodded sympathetically. “His sister is of the same mould - as stubborn and short-sighted as her mother Amidala.”

Trevin nodded sympathetically. He’d had fewer dealings with Padme Naberrie than Avarice, since he’d been a military man rather than a politician. He’d crossed paths with Anakin Skywalker numerous times, and the man’s lack of breeding as well as his supreme arrogance had soured Trevin against the Jedi generals of the Clone Wars.

“Have you heard from your granddaughter?” Trax enquired.

“She commed me from Tatooine.” Trevin had been so happy to hear from her, although he had been less pleased when she'd started asking questions about his days in the Empire.

“Oh?” Avarice seemed intrigued. “Skywalker’s returned to his home planet? I thought there was nothing there but sand and barbarians.”

“Evidently there is a Sith there,” Trevin imparted. “Or so Kara tells me.”

Avarice was intrigued. “A Sith?”

"Kara thinks it was someone close to Palpatine," Trevin told him. "Someone who has been waiting and biding his time."

“The Sith Lords are a myth, Trevin,” Trax said derisively, . “The so-called Darth Vader was nothing more than enhanced intelligence like Grevious, and surely you don’t believe the claims that Sheev Palpatine was a Sith.” Trax scoffed. “It was all Rebel propaganda.”

Trevin shrugged. His granddaughter had seemed concerned about something, and although he had given her some names of Palpatine’s favourites, he hardly believed the information could help.

Trax rubbed the side of his face thoughtfully. “The Jedi did not disclose this concern to the Senate,” he complained. “Their librarian just gave a report and said nothing.”

“I am not surprised,” Trevin told him, taking a sip of his whiskey. “They were always a secretive lot.”

“Hmmm.” Trax seemed deep in thought. “Very interesting.”

Trevin didn’t answer, for politics had never held much interest for him, even during his Imperial days. He’d been an Officer, responsible for the lives of the men and women under his command and had not cared much for the political fanangling of the Emperor and his court. The Jedi were insular and secretive, that was true, but not to the extent they had been during the Old Republic, and the same could be said about the Imperial system. The Empire had after all been a true autocracy, with Palpatine’s word as ultimate law and the walls around his court high. Simply because Trevin had been privy to that inner sanctum made no difference, he considered, and therefore could not complain if the Jedi kept their own counsel now.

The galaxy had indeed changed, Trevin mused to himself - although perhaps not that much. Republic or Empire, the nature of the beast would always be the push and pull of politics; maneuvering and persuasion and pressure from all sides for their voice to be heard; conflict between opposing factions and war when negotiations failed.

For his part, Trevin was content to stay out of that mess and enjoy his golden years in peace.

 

SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEV. XD

It'll never get old.

UGH, THIS FIC, I don't even know what to do with it. The history, the other shoe finally dropping with Luke and Mara, the modified backstory with Karrde and Mara, Trevin's stubborn awesomeness...it's like feeling cute aggression from staring at too many cat videos.

I'm really intrigued by the brief description of Mara's mother, the fact that she wore armor often. So now we know where she gets it from...

 

Fantastic chapter. Luke and Mara playing Truth or Dare is genius. (Now I just wonder what the "dare" component should be -- except there can't be one because Mara would always take dare. )

 

Politics. Always will be a bunch of crap. Even in a galaxy far, far away. Must say that your Mara does not seem as pissed off at the world as Zahn's was. Can't see that one playing games with Luke and definitely not letting him change a bandage on her back. Great job and thanks.