Saga - Legends "Rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light" (drama about Palp´s niece, a mix of legend & canon

I still occasionally am surprised how well you manage to get comedic scenes mixed with enough dread and affection to make them work AzureAngel2. Probably shouldn't by this point, but there you go.

Since telling Draven about it all will put him and her whole family in a lot of danger as long as he's still part of the Empire, I doubt she's going to tell him everything (and to stay within canon, as you say Chyntuck ).

 

WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: I am glad that this story still has a certain drive. Phew!

Cowgirl Jedi 1701: There is this thing about kindergarten teachers and talking to somebody sitting on a toilet...

earlybird-obi-wan: He does indeed.

Chyntuck: I would like to wait for the new SW movie before I do that. I hope to see who Snoke is before I start writing about Galli.

As for Drav and his knowledge about the Death Star, I plan something mean. A belated Halloween special.

DarthUncle: You are my inspiration, darling!

 

Surprise!!!


Chapter 32:

The next day some of the guests have to leave for their home worlds already, including Maxa Jandovar and Janet Lalasha.They bonded during my birthday party and decided to have a spontaneous gig in the Corellian sector.

I hug and kiss both women, hoping they will stay okay for a very long time.

Sheev’s gang might have the first death warrants for Jizz artists ready. In a tyranny free thinking is punishable. Musicians will not be the only ones who will turn into undesired individuals. Soon painters and sculptures of any kind might follow in their wake. I am certain of it.

While I wave at the staring ship, Orson is in the kitchen organizing our planned picnic.

Not much later Dalus Othona takes his leave from me. He has duties to attend to on his home world of Alderaan.

While Sheltay Retrac, the senatorial aid of Bail Organa, brings the old man’s travel bags downstairs, I gaze at her most important belonging in wonderment. She left it on the veranda.

From the shadows of a in a child restraint seat a magnificent pair of baby eyes gazes at me. They remind me of the Juran mountain peaks. Of crispy blue glacier ice.

My heart misses a beat or two.

“Her name is Winter,” the proud mother announces. “This is her first undercover mission. In so far she is doing great. Apart from the occasional full nappies and winds that is.”

“Gas pain is horrible for such a young infant,” I say full of compassion. “She stayed unbelievingly quiet. I did not even notice that you had her with you.”

A smile splits the usually composed face of Sheltay Retrac. “She has that from her father. He can sit in the grass sea for hours and hours, composing his miracles. You see, he is a grass painter.”

Ob Khaddor, a famous Alderaanian artist, comes to mind immediately, but as a Naboo I am to polite to make any inquiries about him as the possible father. Instead I remark, “Was Winter in pain before you came to Lothal?”

The light-skinned woman shakes her head.

“Perhaps it’s a case of microbial imbalance. Your daughter might not like the rich Chandrilan farmer food she receives via your milk.”

“That might be a good explanation.”

I spot Orson who is walking around the house, proudly carrying a picnic basket. He beams like the sweet, adorable boy he used to be decades ago. His steps are slow.

“Please give Senator Organa my regards!” I say in a rush. “And thank him for his special birthday present!”

“It was a pleasure for me to deliver Mister San Tekka into safety.” Sadness creeps into the brown eyes of my opposite. “I fear my own husband will soon lead the life of a fugitive, too. He won’t be able to avert his eyes from all the evil that Palpatine creates in our galaxy.”

I look down at Winter, so small and helpless.

“But do not be afraid, Mistress Samye,” the senatorial aide addresses me by Barin’s family name. “If anything happens to me or my husband, the queen will take my baby girl in. Her own little girl needs company anyway.”

“There is a baby?” I inquire, happy for Bail and Breha.

“They adopted,” says Sheltay Retrac quickly. “A poor little soul from Coruscant who lost both of her parents in the chaos that followed the purge of the Jedi temple.”

Orson is almost in hearing rage.

“Take care!” I sigh.

“I will. Because I will give the like of Krennic a good fight before I go down,” the Alderaanian woman says under her breath and hurries off to help my former university provost upstairs.

“Ina, can we go?” asks Orson.

“Just waving Master Othona out.”

He frowns. “Perhaps I should send a petition in that we banish the term ´Master´from the Basic language altogether. It reminds me too much of the Jedi order.”

I blush, fighting my anger that bubbles up in me like swamp gas.

Orson looks down at Winter. “Somebody lost their off-spring.”

“That is the grand-daughter of Master Othona,” I lie.

He frowns. “I can see no particular familiarity in their faces.”

“You do not look like any of your grand parents either,” I prompt.

“Bah, do not remind me of those old creepers! All of them were in this sect who worshipped the Force. Ridiculous!”

“Do you think you can manage to let us have a nice day together?” I ask sharply.

He blushes a bit. “Of course, Ina dear. But the very mentioning of the Force always makes me angry. It should not be the guide line for any faith system. Mathematical formulas are so much clearer and true.”

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(To be continued!)

 

Sheltay is a wonderful and principled Senatorial aide. Cool introduction of Winter as a youngling. Glad to hear of Bail and Breha's adoption of Leia and a very plausible backstory they give her too.

 

Nice to see Winter, the future friend of Leia

 

Nice update indeed, short but true. Nice 'the official story' for Leia there. I like the snark between Orson and Nagina on the topic of Jedi/the Force, and her diversion to his grandparents which she knew would distract him He is nosy though, isn't he just!

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, earlybird-obi-wan & DarthUncle for all your enthusiastic reading of this story & your thoughtful feedback comments.

This week life was rather tough and I gave my best not to think about my father once work was over. Because at work I just think of the children that I take care of. That takes 200% of me. But at night, I find no sleep. At least I managed to do some Yoga at the fitness centre today. I hope I can continue this story for you guys. At present I lack ideas & energy.

 

We love you anyway.

 

Thanks. That is very kind.

 

Aww, baby Winter! Say it's not so that the future super spy has too much gas. She'd be appalled. Poignant though, that her mother already has been worrying about backup plans in case something should happen to her. Given that we know (unless something goes AU) those plans may have to be used after all, which is the worst case scenario the adults in her life were all hoping against. But at least in any case she and Leia end up having each other as friends and partners in Rebellion as they grow up.

Sorry to hear that you're having such a difficult time; I hope things get better soon!

 

Thanks for your kind feedback that made me happy and smiley, Kahara. Especially today when I found it.

I regret to tell you that my dad had two heart attacks last night and he did not survive the last one. He was still in the intensive care unit, in which he spend the last 25 days.



I do not know when I can be online again the next weeks! But thanks for all the kind well wishes and good thoughts. You are all very good and kind.

 

I'm sorry for your loss, best wishes for you and your loved ones. Thanks for letting everyone know what's going on; we'll be here when you get back.

 

That is very sweet of you Kahara.

 

Surprise update now that the pain killers for my migraine kick in, DarthUncle, Kahara, Cowgirl Jedi 1701, WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, Chyntuck & Darth Gangrenous:


(Still Chapter 32!)


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Our day at Lake Sah'ot is blissful, even though Orson sings a murder ballad to me. His idea of entertainment is not mine. Sheev, in all his dark glory and cruelty, would have managed much better.

Gazing at Orson, I realize that I know too much about darkness altogether. And I fight it the only way that I know of. With kindness and endurance. But my heart is not as pure as it used to be. Too many dirty battles lie behind me and I am still not done fighting.

Insisting that Orson keeps his word to me, we fly to Wobani. The working camp there is a parable of the state our Sith-ruled galaxy is in. Overcrowded cells, miserable health care and hygiene. Even Mos Eisley is cheerful compared to the dull place where the Empire keeps Bay.

My foster brother, now named Prisoner 1827, is glad to see me. It remains a short reunion though. Orson insists on keeping to our travelling schedule. But I am able to demand more liberties for Bay.

We are already boarding the Delta-class T-3c shuttle, when Orson’s comlink signals an incoming call. Paling, he answers it and passes the com on to me.

“Your uncle wants a word with you.”

“I do not talk to narcissistic tyrants today,” I clip out, remembering the patched up wounds on Bay’s body too well. “He can try tomorrow, when I am in a better mood again.”

His facial lines are stricken. “Now,” he says and I know that he only repeats what Sheev just barked at him.

I start speaking before I adjust the com to my own head. “Once upon a time there was a Sith lord named Darth Cognus.”

Sheev grumbles deeply into my ear before he says with a much lighter voice, “The Huntress became the hunted in the end, Nagina.”

With heavy steps I walk up the ramp. “Are you saying that my hunt for answers is over?”

“I am not your enemy,” he pleads. “There are others.”

“Then let them come and face me,” I shout, startling Orson with my rant.

“If you go on like this I cannot protect you any longer.” Sadness drenches his throaty voice. “Stop seeking justice! My Empire has none to offer.”

“Then you are not all powerful?” I mock him.

“You are all what is left of my humanity, Nagina,” he answers matter-of-factly.

I run a hand over my tired eyes, the pictures of the Wobani working camp still painted on my retina. “The ultimate price that every Sith apprentice has to sacrifice on the altar of the dark side,... have you not paid it yet?”

“I thought I already had as a child, but you remind me daily what is at stake.” He pauses, just to steel his voice. “You will not repeat your actions of the past days. Just visit the mausoleum and go home.”

“Home?” I yelp.

“Home is were the heart is. Mine is with you. Do not end up broken!”

“You sound like the giant who had to hid his heart in a golden egg and...”

“I do not need a fairy tale, Nagina!” he snarls. “I need you to keep in line and do not test out your political power like today. Bay was a step too far.”

“He was almost beaten to death before my arrival.” A hysterical sob escapes me. “Don’t you dare talking to me about my power!”

“You achieved more havoc since you are with Krennic than I ever thought possible.” Despite saying that my uncle sounds tender and somewhat proud. “I should take his project away from him for loving you too much. Instead of pampering you, he should have stopped you.”

“Now you have become a true Sith,” I state without joy. “You punish love like a crime.”

“Just visit Amidala’s resting place and return to Lothal,” he whispers.

One corner of my mouth lifts and I quote Darth Bane, “What can you offer me in return?”

For a long time I can only hear Orson’s quickened heart beat next to me, then Sheev answers reverently, “Loyalty. Devotion.”

Even though these words are those of a long dead Iktochi, my uncle means them by heart. He still has one. Only I am aware of it. Of the conflict that is eating him up piece by piece.

I close off the line.

“You-you hang up on the Emperor?” Orson stutters.

“To me he will always remain Sheev.”

I say no further word until we reach the air space above Naboo. Of course Orson tries to make me speak. He begs, he threatens. But to no avail. My face is like the surface of Wobani: barren and hostile.

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(To be continued!)

 

How wonderfully unexpected to get an update today! And what a one! Nagina's brother Bay - how tragic!

Terrific undertones and complexities here. Nagina does not want to talk to narcissistic tyrants I love that.
And that she really is the Emperor's only "soft spot."

Even though she has seen more than her share of darkness, her kindness and endurance are like a fortress.

Her influence is by no means inconsequential. Sheev and Orson both (and LOL Boba Fett) are putty in her hands.

 

Yep, nice to have an update, even though the timing is due to AzureAngel2 having to be at home for the day.

She does indeed have influence WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, and is the Emperor's sole link to his humanity - I do think his warning about others holds true, Tarkin would be ruthless enough to kill her if he ever realised she's around and her significance, for one. And Pestage knows who she is, and it's likely only fear of the Emperor's wrath holds him back.

 

Krennic: "You hang up on the emperor?!"

Nagina: "To me he's just Uncle Sheev."


Love this.

 

WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, DarthUncle & Cowgirl Jedi 1701: Thanks for your kind feedback tonight! It was most needed. I try to think of something for next weekend.

 

It's a true wonder that Nagina manages to preserve her sanity when she's in a state of constant tension, with Krennic but also with Sheev. She can only find brief moments of respite such as the one admiring baby Winter, but the impression she gives is that she's at war. She isn't really going to listen to Sheev's advice and keep quiet, right? So it's time for me to say the proverbial "I have a bad feeling about this."

 

Chyntuck: Let´s put your assumptions to the test in the following chapters, okay?

Here an unexpected update. Short, but still an update, DarthUncle, Kahara, Cowgirl Jedi 1701, Darth Gangrenous and WarmNyota_SweetAyesha:



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The first tear drops on the controls when I behold the Lake District. An unstoppable force.

After leaving Bay behind in this living nightmare called ´Imperial Labour camp´ I thought that I would have no more tears left. Once more I am utterly mistaken.

Orson is startled, and begins talking to me in a soothing, sweet way. But as soon as we are out in the whispering grass sea, Bathseba soaring high above us, he shows me his deep rooted loyalty to the Empire. His words hit me like blaster bolts. There is not much I can do for him. Not even a tiny conflict exists in his heart. He believes to be on the right side and is willing to smite the wicked. And my uncle will give him the power to murder and to maim.

The Clone Wars have very effectively corrupted the majority of the galaxy in the most dreadful way. Eyes and souls are blinded by darkness.

When Orson finally walks me into his ship again, Bathseba sits down on my right shoulder. The touch of her talons brings forth an old Naboo prayer in me:

“This life, you must know
as the tiny splash of a raindrop.

A thing of beauty that disappears
as it comes into being.

Therefore, set your goal.
Make use of every day and every night.”

My goal is simple. I want to keeping fighting for balance and justice.

Darth Maul, my very unlike childhood companion, once said to me, “Through victory my chains are broken. The chains. The chains are the easy part. It's what goes on in here that's hard.”

Back then I did not comprehend the true meaning of his words. “Oh, Mauly,” I sigh as I step into the last resting place of Padmé, while Orson stays at the gate.



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(To be continued!)

 

Eloquent Nagina is true to her own ideals and principles, which is beyond admirable.

 

Because I need this very much today, I have another update for you all, DarthUncle, Kahara, Darth Gangrenous, WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, Cowgirl Jedi 1701 & Chyntuck:


(Still Chapter 32!)


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I am in the middle of a traditional Naboo prayer for the Dead, when I feel him standing right next behind me. He is like a cold breeze on my skin, throwing a shadow on my soul.

“The keeper left his keep. Make sure Sheev does not find out,” I comment, not willing to open my eyes. It is hard to see what has become of the desert boy he used to be.

“You always demanded extreme actions from others, moon child,” Gallius Rex answers, the anger in his voice as hot as Jakku’s sand.

“I hate you, too,” I reply in honesty with more more calmness because there is no point in lying to my uncle’s special henchman.

“You have no idea what you are dealing with!”

“I have a vast imagination, Galli, always had,” I say and look into a face that is hidden in the shadows of a hooded cloak. He has grown so much already.

“You know nothing. Apart from causing difficulties.” He makes a vast gesture with his well-manicured hands, but the decay from within is visible for me anyway. “Coming here was a mistake. The last one in a long chain of mistakes.”

“Mistress Skywalker was a Naboo and so am I,” I say unblinkingly.

“You were not supposed to know about that marriage.” His displeasure comes over me in waves of anger.

“It would have been vital for the Jedi Council to know. Emotional blackmail is but one of my uncle’s specialities.” I keep my fingers resting on the ledger, drawing strength from it. “Sith sorcery also is.”

“He had nothing to do with her death,” Gallius Rex insists, his displeasure vibrant in the air between us.

“Keep telling that yourself.” I gaze at the fresh Millaflowers that someone has put into the large vases all around the room. “He basically turned our galaxy into a graveyard, but I feel that this is the centre of sorrow.”

He grunts like a rancor and I find myself being pressed down onto the cool ledger. “Stop assuming! You are out of your league already, Nagina!”

There is no resistance from me, but somebody else comes to the rescue.

“Let go of the lady!” Orson gives to consider, while holding his blaster against Gallius’ hooded features. “I do not care who you are or where you are from. This is holy ground and you stain it with your violence.”

“And you don’t?” my uncle’s henchman laughs without joy.

“This is put on stun only, pal! But let me assure you that I will not be very forgiving once I dragged you out of here.” Orson’s eyes are blue flames. “Leave now or not even the Emperor will recognize your face in the morgue.”

“You asked for it, Nagina,” whispers Gallius Rex and sets me free. “No matter where you go, I will find you and crush all your hopes.”

“Nothing is forgotten,” I assure him. “Nothing is ever forgotten, Galli. You will not be able to extinguish all the lights I have lit the past weeks. The torches will be passed on, sometimes more secret and at others more open. My life means nothing. The Force is the final reality.”

The hand on my shoulder trembles slightly. It belongs to Orson. “Are you okay, Ina?”

“Thank you and now put your gun away and stay with me.”

“Of course.”

How Gallius Rex leaves and when is of no significance. The only thing that matters is my last tribute to the woman who was put to rest here.

“She was pregnant, you know?” I say, tears strangulating me like a belt around my throat.

“You might have mentioned that on Scarif already,” muses Orson, not letting go of my shoulder.

“I hope for Padmé that her husband and her baby waited for her on the other side.”

Suddenly, all the candles go out.

“Ina, let us have some tea and cookies in town.” The discomfort of Orson is palpable. “We can even walk to the local temple of your moon goddess.”

I throw myself into his arms, almost unbalancing him. “I would like that very much.”

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(To be continued!)

 

Wow! That was quite the confrontation! Thanks for posting.

 

And so Orson does actualloy save Nagina at least once! Nice confrontation indeed, and again worrying signs for Nagina.

 

That was all that I managed so shortly before my father´s funeral. After I wrote the speech at the funeral & held it in a calm, dignified manner, all my words dried out.

Some returned when writing Sinterklaas/ Saint Nikolaus poems for my husband, his family, dear RL friends & acquaintances plus colleagues.

DarthUncle: I cannot say when my words return fully to compose a readable fanfic, but I am working on it. Thanks for being there for me.