Saga [UDC VIII] "She Says in Parentheses"

Though here too I only know a bit about the characters in question, I enjoyed these a lot—like all of your drabbles they're sensitively written and characterized, and one can tell what's going on and who's involved. (E.g., I know which "youngest member of Rogue Squadron" is making Jag's whole world spin! ) We get to follow Jag through so many learning experiences and revelations here: his own ability to save a shipful of being against all odds, the diversity of all those coming together on Ithor, his love for Jaina, and all the stresses that she has to endure—that he was able to wait for her after all that shows just how seriously he loves her. And this, as others have pointed out—

—is absolutely priceless and spot-on for Daddy!Han! And finally, what a sweet scene at the end, with her own little Anakin who even at this tender age knows what being a good Force user of any kind is all about.

Thanks for another beautiful group of these!

 

Thanks! Even though I still don't understand the writing decisions behind half of their story , the core idea of Jag and Jaina is still something I love, and it was like returning to old friends to write about them here. I'm so glad that you enjoyed.

I have to agree with you there! I'm thrilled you enjoyed these.

I couldn't resist adding that line - I'm happy that it stood out to you.

Thanks for stopping in!

And I thank you for your kind words, as always! Jag and Jaina's story was a whirlwind, and not always in a good way, that's for certain - but their core story is still one I adore, and it was refreshing to write about that here. They really deserve all of the happiness after everything the writers put them through. And Daddy!Han - I will never get enough of him in a family-man role, and Jaina's always been his girl, let's be honest. Writing that drabble was cathartic for my muse, so I'm glad that it was so well received.

Then, Jaina certainly knows a thing or two about duty and responsibility where it comes to the Force - Anakin will be a good student, and do his name and parents proud in the years to come.

I thank you so much for reading, again!

Because of course the name of Anakin had to continue - that's always been a favourite headcanon for me, and I refuse to shake it!

I'm glad that you enjoyed these, and I thank you so much for reading!



Alrighty, there will be more in a few!

~MJ

 

Author's Notes: These drabbles are set in my kinda-sorta AU, "An Old Song Re-Sung" - where, basically put, Anakin Skywalker makes better life choices, and thus circumvents the events of the OT. So, here's a little glimpse of what could have been . . .

---

Week IX: “In a Second Key”​

XLI. Bright

Princess Winter Organa couldn't imagine having a dearer friend and confidante before meeting Leia Skywalker during one of Naboo's Legislative Youth programs. The other girl shone like a star; all who were touched by her light were drawn into her orbit. In her, she found the sister she never knew she was missing. Leia's visits to Alderaan felt necessary to her spirit – as if she filled a space that was always meant to be.

When they made plans to enter the Senate together, Winter looked forward to the light they could shed on the rest of the galaxy, as well.



XLII. Star

There was a rising star amongst the ranks of GAR pilots. The Corellian had a swagger to his step, a glint to his eyes . . . and Anakin disliked him instantly.

“You're just sore that he's challenging Syndulla's records – admit it.” Anakin had sponsored Hera's training, true, but Ahsoka was off-target. “Or, is it something else . . .” her eyes narrowed -

- only to focus on Captain Solo, who was doggedly following on Leia's heels as she approached. He was a brave one, flirting even as both Skywalkers scowled at him.

Ahsoka sighed, understanding. “Just don't wreck him too badly in the sims, Skyguy.”



XLIII. Mama

Supreme Chancellor Amidala knew no greater pride than when her daughter was introduced to the Senate for the first. Leia stood tall in her full Nabooian regalia, and confidently met the stares of her new peers. Padmé fought to keep her expression serene and unbiased, but, after -

- she couldn't help but wrap her daughter in a tight embrace, and joyously admit how proud she was.

“I couldn't have done it without you, Mama,” Leia whispered.

Some nameless dread pulled at Padmé – whispering of another time, another place. She brushed it aside, as always. “And you won't ever have to, darling.”



XLIV. Please

Han Solo was just asking his sister to ignite a lightsaber in his face. Personally, Luke found the ongoing war of wills amusing. The elder pilot had taken an instant liking to him months back, and, at first, he was simply grateful to find a friend in the GAR. Luke had not, however, anticipated this happening.

“Catch you later, Princess.” Han gave a lazy bow as he turned to leave.

“I am not a princess,” Leia snapped - again. “Would you please stop calling me that?”

Luke simply rolled his eyes, and wondered how much longer she'd continue lying to herself.



XLV. Shine

The Force gathered in shining waves around the Skywalker family. With them, Mara Jade found it soothing to immerse herself in its flow, losing herself as she seldom could elsewhere. Here, the gaps in her own soul - those empty places from her earliest days - were filled. She grounded herself on Leia's brilliant spirit; on Luke's bright earnestness; on Master Skywalker's sheer power and the serene grace of his wife.

Then, and only then, could she silence the insidious voice in the back of her own mind – ever attempting to alter the song. She'd never allow him to take from her again.



~MJ

 

Wonderful to see the beautiful possibilities of the Old Song Re-Sung AU continued here. Luke and Leia growing up on Naboo, Padmé as supreme chancellor, Princess Winter Organa... and yet there are some constants as well that are finding ways to happen even here: Winter and Leia's friendship, Leia debuting in the Senate, and a certain Corellian pilot who starts to take a shine to her! Plus an older, noncyborg Anakin as a protective dad... now that's quite the image! It's a wonderful bonus to see Mara as part of this too, beginning to find solace and fulfilment in the glow radiating from the members of this family.

And yet here and there, as in An Old Song Re-Sung, these occasional dark little "attempts to alter the song," the insidious hints of "another time, another place" are creeping in—namely, of the more broken universe familiar to us from the OT. In AOSRS it seemed to be mainly Anakin who experienced those, but it's interesting to see Padmé and Mara having them now as well. Does that mean that all (or almost all) of them will experience that at some point? And where might that lead? Very interesting possibilities, and I know the result will be fantastic no matter which direction you choose to take.

 

Well, never say never! I do have two short stories to write in this 'verse that are almost ready to post. After that, the sequel looks like it can become quite hefty if I let it . . . But, for now, I am so grateful that this arch of stories has resonated with so many. It's been one of my favourites to write!

I'm just so glad that you're here to enjoy the rest of this journey with me!

Because some things will never change! Classics are classics for a reason, and I couldn't alter everything. I'm glad that you liked both the new and the old with this 'verse!

And, as for those flashes - we'll definitely get into more of that when I dive into the sequel. But for now I'll just say that there are so many possibilities to explore whenever I sit down and put my mind to world-building. It's been a fascinating journey, and I hope that you continue to enjoy this world as it grows!

Because not everything can be sunshine and rainbows! I'm glad that you liked those darker moments. They rather just creep in on their own accord!

And Han and Anakin butting heads is seriously the best thing this 'verse has spawned. At least in my mind. I'm glad that you enjoyed that bit too!

Thanks for stopping in! I'm glad to hear that this week resonated with you.

Then, for the bits and pieces I didn't really expound upon in the prose: the other Chiss students were given red strips, but Jag alone had blue stripes on his uniform, to single him out as being human and different. Then, the youngest member of Rogue Squadron would be Jaina Solo, at the time. The remark about her siblings would refer to Anakin's death, and Jacen's . . . odd path following the Myrkr mission onwards. Both undoubtedly weighed on her, along with her burdens as Sword of the Jedi, and Jag recognizes how much is on her shoulders.


Again, I thank you all for reading, and I hope that you continue to enjoy! More will be up in a few . . .


~MJ

 

These three weeks ended up flowing together, so I decided to post them as one, rather than breaking them up. There are notes at the end for anyone who is interested in the context, also. For everyone else, I simply thank you for reading and hope that you enjoy!

---

Week X: “Somebody You Used to Know”​

XLVI. Raise

The harvest didn't stop just because they were hiding the Mand'alor. Arla Fett dutifully tended to the fields, allowing her parents to meet with Jaster Mereel and worry about the future of the clans. She had not been raised to skirt her chores.

Jango wanted to help, but, at ten, he got in the way more often than not. Instead he watched, and learned from her. He was all limbs from a summertime growth-spurt, and she giggled to push him into the newly thrashed grain – he'd learn balance in time, but for now she'd enjoy her edge while she had it.



XLVII. Juvenile

Arla didn't plan on calling Concord Dawn home indefinitely. Jango could stay and lead the Fett clan; he could take their father's place as alor'ad of the Journeymen Protectors, and manage the farm. She had bigger ambitions.

“But there's never been a Fett Mand'alor,” Jango pointed out. He was too young to understand her dreams. Arla, though, was just shy of her fifteenth lifeday - when she'd finally don her first set of armor.

“There hasn't been a Fett Mand'alor yet. But, see up there? There's a whole galaxy waiting, and fifteen hundred of those stars belong to us. I want to visit them all.”



XLVIII. Mature

But Tor Vizsla and his Kyr'tsad didn't tolerate any who followed the true ways. Those aiding the Mand'alor he hunted were to be made examples of. Horrified, she watched as her childhood home went up in flames, as her clansmen were slaughtered; and, her parents -

- her father fell first . . . her mother next. She had no idea what happened to Jango - it was a thin hope, imagining that he made it out with Mereel, but hope she did.

She didn't have her armor yet, but Arla Fett grew up in an hour's time. She'd never know another day of childhood again.



XLVIX. Growth

Still she fought - oh, she fought! - but she was a slip of a youth without armor or weapons against battle-hardened warriors. Even so, she was determined to honor her name: she would not surrender. Arla held her ground, and her fighting spirit attracted Tor Vizsla's attention.

“What a fierce little hell-cat she is,” the false Mando in black armor laughed to see. He doffed his helmet, little concerned by the threat she presented. “Fett's girl?” he asked, and received an affirmative from his warriors. “Well, copikla,” he gave a leering grin, “welcome to the Death Watch.”



L. Elder

Arla was only allowed armor after proving she wouldn't run. By then, the brand on her back had long since scarred. She had difficulties recalling her life before the Kyr'tsad; before Tor Vizsla.

But she remembered enough to paint her armor the glaring silver of memory. The color was a beacon, bragging of her perseverance through loss. She hesitated to add the blue of promised vengeance . . . she did not deserve that color, not when she no longer fought, not when she no longer resisted. Instead, she painted her visor crimson to honor her father, and continued to remember in what small ways she could.

---

Week XI: “Marching Far Away”​

LI. Go

Arla liked to tell stories of far off worlds as they guided the harvester droids. She couldn't wait to leave, but Jango couldn't imagine life beyond Concord Dawn. This was home, these amber seas of grain. Someday, he'd wear their father's armor; he'd lead the Protectors in his place.

“I know: you'll marry that cute little girl from Clan Bralir down the road, and have a dozen little mini-yous running around while you grow old and lazy,” Arla teased. “That's okay; this land has been ours for generations. I'll visit stars enough for the both of us.”



LII. Wait

Jango kept his head down, letting the stalks of grain swallow him, just as Father had ordered . . . had. He choked on a sob, knowing that his father would never speak again. He couldn't find his mother, or Arla; the screams from the homestead were terrible, deafening sounds, even far out in the fields.

He crept away until the crops were set afire, and his cover turned to towering walls of flame. He couldn't wait any longer: he found his feet and ran – ran until a hand reached out to stop him, and he looked up into Jaster Mereel's faceless visor.



LIII. Rise

It was surreal, at first: life beyond Concord Dawn. The worlds in the Mandalore sector were diverse and many; the Mand'alor visited each to rally the clans against the Kyr'tsad. Like the Mando'ade of old, Jango grew up surrounded by war; hardship forced him to became quick and clever and strong. He could feel Mereel's pride in his progress – his approval bolstered him, just as his own father's affection once had.

“You'll be after my job, someday,” Mereel's eyes twinkled. “A Fett Mand'alor, who'd have guessed?”

Even years later, Jango remembered Arla with a pang. He could not immediately reply.



LIV. For

It was difficult, after Galidraan, deciding who he hated more: Tor Vizsla, for once again destroying everything he held dear, or the Jetii for sweeping in as blind puppets controlled by the Kyr'tsad's strings. He could still hear the humming of their sabers; he could still feel the punishing grip of their unholy Force. His dead family . . . his dead clan . . . dead old Jaster Mereel and every Mando he'd since lost as Mand'alor . . .

Jango looked down into the visor of his helmet, where the blue and silver sang of loss and the reliability of vengeance, and vowed to complete its song.



LV. Against

Soldiers marched by in perfect rank and file, each one a finely crafted instrument of death and destruction. Even knowing what they were – and all that they yet would be, Jango Fett observed his duplicates, and marveled.

“But . . . they're for the Jedi,” Boba did not understand when he was old enough to put the pieces together. “Why?”

“No,” Jango corrected on a quiet murmur – knowing as he did what laid sleeping beneath the surface of the clone army's docile, uniform facade. “They are vengeance.”

There were few things a Mandalorian could plan with more patience . . . and so, patiently he would wait.

---

Week XII: "A Turn of Face"​

LVI. Break

It was a singular sensation, to feel alone amidst a sea of faces, all identical to his own. Each clone was born as one of five; they were guaranteed brothers and lifelong companions. When his father was away, Boba Fett had only Taun We and his books for company; those bonds felt . . . thin, sometimes. Lacking, even.

“What's your number?” one batch, superficially his age, tried to approach him.

“I don't have a number,” Boba's reply was as it ever was. “I have a name.”

He may not have had brothers, but he was the only clone to have a father.



LVII. Quiet

It happened in a blinking, the extermination of the Jedi Order. One moment they thrived as cancer devouring a body, and the next they were gone - wiped out by the very soldiers whose leashes they'd too long held in their hypocritical hands. Wherever he marched, far away, the spirit of Jango Fett undoubtedly rejoiced.

At first, Boba knew a rush of satisfied vengeance. Yet it didn't take long for disquiet to settle in. Without revenge to seek, what was left to him? What was he supposed to do now? At thirteen, the yawning expanse of the future seemed a vast, impossible void.



LVIII. Lives

The golden fields of Concord Dawn were ripe in the autumn breeze. Sintas hummed as she prepared supper, content with the domestic chore. She loved working the land; she loved the life they'd made, far from their violent upbringings. She sought fewer jobs offworld, even as he made a name for himself, hunting down straggling Jedi for the fledgling Empire.

Unsettled, Boba suspected that he was doing something wrong as he cradled his newborn daughter in his arms. Once again, he waited for that promised rush of love and filial attachment . . . and wondered what was missing when he felt neither.



LVIX. Dies

“Even ya' cannot ignore my dyin' wish – not when I'm marching off in your place.”

“I was hired to kill you - replacing you wasn't in the contract,” stubbornly, Boba spoke in Basic. Fenn Shysa chuckled in reply, his lungs gurgling with blood. Boba would end things swiftly for the Mand'alor . . . but he little relished his duty.

“You're more Mando than you think – ya' never would have pulled the trigger,” almost cheerfully, Fenn kept to Mando'a. “You've ignored your people for too long, Bob'ika, but now . . . I'll get my Fett Mand'alor after all. Go on, and make yer father proud.”



LX. Story

Years passed before he righted his sins against his family - admitting where he'd failed both his father's memory and his honor as a Mando.

Mirta was aglow with joy – and it surprised Boba, just how quickly she'd burrowed into what remained of his heart. Today, the clans celebrated her wedding; even Boba forsook his helmet and managed to smile.

Then, Mirta drew their Jedi guest aside.

“I've wasted years on a bloody family legacy – but I'm content now, choosing this instead . . . if you learn nothing else here, remember that.”

Jaina Solo was not the only one to pause, and listen.

Spoiler: Author's Notes

All of this is Legends now, with Disney having hand-waved all of this world-building for Satine and the pacifist Mandalorian arc. (They kept the Mandalorian terrorists, of course. ) But, for a time being, we did have a very rich world to play in . . .

Kyr'tsad: Death Watch. It doesn't sound so corny in Mando'a, that's for sure. A splinter sect of Mandalorians who believed merciless conquest and ruthless violence to be the proper way to honor their past.

Jetii: Jedi. Anytime there's two 'i's at the end of a word, you pretty much know it's an insult.

Copikla: Cutie. It's only an acceptable adjective if you're talking about a baby or a puppy. It's a demeaning insult for a Mandalorian woman.

Arla Fett: Yep, there's a lady Fett! Jango Fett's older sister, and a sad, sad story. She suffered from an in-universe version of Stockholm Syndrome, and bonded with her captors to protect herself. You can no doubt fill in the blanks as to how awful events had to be for her to reach that point . . .

Jaster Mereel: He was the Mand'alor during the Mandalorian Civil War, leading the True Mandalorians against Tor Vizsla and his Death Watch. He ended up dying by Tor Vizsla's hands, and Jango, whom he'd adopted, took up his mantle and led in his place, until -

The Mess at Galidraan: Jango and his commandos were working a job for the governor of Galidraan in return for information on Tor Vizsla's whereabouts. The governor was working with Vizsla, though, and the whole job was a trap. The governor had appealed to the Senate for Jedi aid, saying that there were Mandalorians terrorizing his people – a story that Vizsla's followers happily acted out to provide a body count. A force of Jedi swept in, led by Count Dooku, and they attacked the wrong Mandalorians. The battle resulted in several Jedi casualties, and Jango alone was left alive of his men – that's where he won the dubious bragging right of 'killing six Jedi with his bare hands' when he ran out of ammunition. The Jedi would leave Jango to Galidraan's governor, who sold him into slavery – a fate Jango escaped a few years later. With his role as Mand'alor then meaningless, he finally tracked down Tor Vizsla and killed him, and then made his living as a bounty hunter until Dooku hired him, and one thing led to another . . .

Sintas Vel: A Kiffar bounty hunter, and another orphan of the Clone Wars. She and Boba met while still children, and were married with a daughter named Ailyn together as teenagers. Sintas adapted to 'normal life' better than Boba, who was an 'awful husband and a worse father' in his own words. Boba joined the Journeymen Protectors on Concord Dawn in an attempt at making an honest living, as his grandfather had done – but his superior officer physically assaulted Sintas, and Boba killed him in retaliation. He was exiled for his crime, and left Sintas and Ailyn without explaining why. Yeah . . . not his most shining moment.

In an odd turn of events, Boba would meet Sintas again about the time of the Second Galactic Civil War. She'd been frozen in carbonite by a mark she'd failed to kill, and Boba and Mirta found her and freed her. He was then able to apologize, and Sintas forgave him. He left her his fortune from his life's work, so that she'd be cared for even after he was gone.

Fenn Shysa: It's hard consolidating his backstory, since much of it was written before the PT came out. (Seriously, the Marvel comics in the 90's, and his delightful crush on Leia, are such a fun read if you can ever find them.) But, basically put, when the Empire occupied Mandalore, stripping the planet of its beskar and enslaving its inhabitants to work the mines, he took up the mantle of Mand'alor to rally the clans, and was crucial to their rebuilding following the Empire's demise. He was a great admirer of Jango Fett, and believed that only another Fett Mand'alor could ever fully unite the people. Boba avoided being his successor for years, until Fenn Shysa died saving his life, and he at last honored his dying wish.

Boba as Mand'alor: Let's be honest, he was terrible at his job – he only really stepped up to lead during the Yuuzhan Vong war, and again during the Second Galactic Civil War. A near brush with death, due to a clone-specific cancer, also make Boba reevaluate his failures as a family man around that time. He would be too late to make things right with his daughter, but he did mend his fences with his granddaughter and wife.

Mirta Gev: Boba and Sintas' granddaughter. She would grow out of her mother's intense hatred for Boba, and instead forged an awkward sort of bond with him. Seriously, these two are both so awful at experiencing positive human emotions that it's almost endearing to read. Story was the high point of their relationship – of course canon couldn't allow anyone happiness for too long, and it all goes downhill for Mirta, but there was this high point, at least.

 

Wow! Wonderful job making these prompts work together in telling the story of Clan Fett, its notable members, its trials, its tribulations, and its triumphs. I very much enjoyed this, even though I am not familiar with all the characters here. It's clear that you know this "very rich world" of the Mandalorians inside and out, and I always learn new things when I read your writing about them.

Arla, for example... what a sad story. All those dreams of visiting the stars dashed so suddenly and so horribly... at least when Luke came home to find his aunt and uncle's farm burned to the ground, there wasn't a blackguardaceous terrorist waiting around the corner to capture him and suck all the spirit out of him. Though it's to Arla's credit that she still at least has memory left. (Love the significance of Mando armor colors—your fanon, or established?)

Your Jango group is one of those that makes me go, "hey, I never thought about the character that way, but it totally fits!" Yes, he is in an extremely difficult double bind of hate here, between the false Mandos of the Kyr'tsad on one hand and the Jedi on the other, and I could totally see that plus the Galidraan mess leading to his becoming what he is in Episode 2. I'm thankful at least that, even after Tor Viszla killed his parents and destroyed his home, he was able to find such a strong mentor in Jaster Mereel—though the way he lost him is definitely sad, and I could see where that in combination with the Jedi business at Galidraan are what put the blue of vengeance onto his armor. The last drabble of this group is absolutely chilling; again, I hadn't thought of it before, but it would make total sense for Jango to know just what his clones are capable—perhaps even before Sidious did! And indeed that chilling vengeance was fulfilled beyond anyone's wildest expectations, even though Jango was not around to see it. Goosebumps.

I appreciated getting to know more of the younger Boba's Legends backstory through your third group; the PT pretty much just leaves him hanging, with that haunting last shot of him holding his father's helmet. His path from being "the only clone with a father" to being the best bounty hunter in the galaxy (!) sure had a lot more twists and turns than I ever thought—and along the way it looks like he made some pretty questionable choices, particularly as his new family was concerned. Much of it, it seems, grew out of that "where are the fireworks?" feeling that came right after that one moment of satisfied vengeance—totally believable, and it shows in its way how vengeance never can be fully satisfied. It looks like the full reconciliation with his family and culture took decades, but to all appearances it was worth it. And though I don't know if it's established or not (and it doesn't really matter), I love Jaina's appearance in the last drabble, listening and learning from her generational counterpart in Clan Fett. She too knows all about bloody family legacies, but also about making the right choices in the end. Not to mention that her presence bodes well for the restoration of peace between the Jedi and the Mandalorians...

Thanks so much for more wonderful work and for this illuminating look at a family's legacy (and not the usual family legacy we think of when we think SW)!

 

Unfortunately, no. Canon is not so kind to Arla, and she eventually has Bardan Jusik - a Jedi turned Mandalorian - wipe her memories for her so she can move on and heal. After that, there's no word on what became of her.

Thanks! The SW 'verse is so rich with characters, that it was interesting to step out of the box and write for characters I don't normally write for.

And I hope to check off a few more before this is over! That's the great thing about drabbles - it really lets you branch out and stretch your writing muscles.

Thanks.

It's such a fascinating space!viking culture, and I'm not even covering a fraction of it - I know some fans who are head over heels with the language and world building. Seriously, it's on par with Trekkies and their Vulcan/Klingon and Tolkienites with their elvish. I'm just a happy passer through who's glad to put a few of my thoughts down into words.

You're too right about Arla - and I hate how canon goes downhill for her too. I suppose it's realistic, but still - I would have loved an alternate world where she kills Tor Vizsla in his sleep.

And yes, the armor colors are canon - it's been expounded on in fanon, of course, because that's just what we do, but the base colors are all accounted for.

While you can explain Jango's character as simply 'a mercenary out for money' and have it fit the plot (which is now the official line, eugh ), this is just so much richer for me. I mean - why else would a Mandalorian offer up himself, literally, and then dedicate years of his life to building an army for the Jedi? It makes more sense for Dooku to have played on his hatred for the Jedi, and promise him a chance at the ultimate revenge. It gives such layers to the story, and it really, really adds villain kudos to Dooku and Palpatine - as if Sheev needed more!

But I'm glad that this portrayal struck you as well.

Oh, Boba . . . with an upbringing like that, you can pretty much expect him to come out as a lethal mess with tons of buried emotional baggage. Him trying, and failing, to have a normal family and honor his Mando roots has always struck me, each and every time he falls on his big dumb face. He's always been a favourite character of mine, so it's been fascinating to see his backstory grow over the years. I'm just glad that he eventually sorta made things right with his family - in his own way.

And Jaina and Mirta's friendship was one of my favourite parts of FoTJ! Strong female friendships are all too often lacking in most media, so for them to shuck their family histories aside and instead see their similarities was just all sorts of awesome. (In Legends!canon, Jaina went to Boba for training before dueling and killing Jacen. She knew that she'd have to think less like a Jedi to be able to defeat her twin - and who better than Boba Fett to show her how? Mirta, of course, had plenty to say on that after her own bloody family history, and she did give Jaina a version of the speech I recycled here. Unfortunately, their friendship wasn't one that kept over time - but that's canon caring less about characterization and more about god-awful plots, in the long run. )

And I thank you for taking the time to read and leave such detailed thoughts! I just have a big sandbox to play in, and there are so many castles to build!


Alrighty, there will be more in a few . . .


~MJ

 

Week 13: “If This Really Means Freedom”​

LXI. Uprising

The public execution of the rebel cell that failed to liberate the prison mines of Aythol was broadcasted across every frequency – even in the Outer Rim. The Empire suffered no traitors; the harsh visuals were a warning, clear as the suns burned hot.

“Damn fools,” Owen sighed, even as Luke stared at the holoscreen, seething.

His heart dropped.

“Get that thought out of your head, boy,” Owen grumbled. “Not even the Republic's influence reached out this far - what would a new government change?”

“But . . .”

“None of it matters – not to us.” And that was that. “Now, get back to work.”



LXII. Negotiate

She studied the Imperial Codes, but the more she learned, the more her faith in the Empire faltered.

“Father,” Leia finally tried to explain. “These laws . . . they're unfair; they're unjust. I . . . I don't know if I can enter the Senate and swear my allegiance to the Emperor.”

Treasonous words, she knew, but she had to give them a voice.

Bail Organa regarded her carefully. Strangely, Leia knew that she did not have to convince her father of her opinion. She felt that he was waiting . . . searching.

“That's why voices like yours are needed," he guided her. "Now, more than ever.”



LXIII. Convince

Hera was slumped over the Ghost's controls when he found her, her brow propped on one hand while she caressed her sore lekku with the other. Her headpiece was off; she'd worn the restricting garment for too long.

Wordlessly, Kanan came up and massaged her scalp and down the heavy muscle of her head-tails with practiced fingers. Her lekku flushed in grateful relief. “Hera,” he sighed, “you're running yourself ragged.”

“But, Caleb . . . this is so much bigger than me.”

“You don't have to convince me.” She already had . . . she'd helped him remember. “Just let me take care of you, too.”



LXIV. Overthrow

Every Empire Day, Mon Mothma had to bow her head and gracefully applaud the Emperor's speeches. Yet, that year, as every other, when he mentioned Senator Amidala as a martyr to his cause -

- her hands clenched into fists; she had to bite her tongue to keep from speaking. Her rage was a furnace, burning at the core of her.

Then, as they also did every year . . .

“For Padmé,” Bail toasted on a small, sad voice.

“For the Jedi,” Riyo Chuchi echoed.

“For the Republic,” Mon vowed, tipping back her wine. “Let the Empire not survive to celebrate one year more.”



LXV. Unite

She could see them all, like pieces on a dejarik board. They were small cells, mere pockets of scattered resistance underneath her guiding hand . . . but, someday they would be strong enough to take their stand as one. Then -

- yet, Ahsoka Tano couldn't allow herself to think too far ahead. She couldn't dwell on the Order that no longer existed; the Republic she'd dedicated her life to . . . her lost troopers . . . her Master.

“Anakin,” even so, she let herself whisper, “I wish you were here to see what we've built.” I hope that, somewhere, you're proud of me.

And Fulcrum continued on.



~MJ

 

And once again, you continue to ace these. Another excellent set, and your choice of these five very different freedom fighters is perfect for the prompts. Love how we get to witness one of Luke's first contacts both with the Rebellion and what it's fighting against; of course his Uncle Owen is going to bellyache about it, but like that would stop Luke. I love the idea that Leia continues to confide in her adoptive dad throughout her Senate career; there's the fearless Leia forthrightness we've come to know and love, with a dose of Bail's quiet strength. We get a taste of that again in the toast scene, of course, though this time in juxtaposition with a different woman of valor: the dignified and determined Mon Mothma.

The Kanan/Hera scene is so sweet and tender; how can anyone blame our beloved space!mom for feeling utterly overwhelmed at the sheer magnitude of it all. We know of course that the Spectres will eventually find out that being part of something bigger will be reassuring too—though for the meantime she most definitely deserves a moment of being "taken care of" herself.

And finally what a wonderful portrait of Ahsoka, whom I know is a character dear to your heart. As the Fulcrum she has an overwhelming burden to shoulder too, one that's kind of the inverse of what Hera was feeling above: the responsibility of leading all these scattered cells of rebellion (and I live the dejarik board image, so reminiscent of one of the familiar scenes of Rebels). She will have to wait a very long time for her answer—but somewhere, sometime out there, her Master's better self will undoubtedly be very proud of her indeed.

Keep up the mighty fine work!