Beyond - Legends A Tuft of Stray Hair | Luke/Mara fluff, guest star OC| 9-20 ABY | Fic-gift for WarmNyota_SweetAyesha

Title: A Tuft of Stray Hair
Timeframe: From the end of TLC to Union
Continuity: Legends
Genre: Humour, fluff
Characters: Luke Skywalker, Mara Jade, Eliskandro the Hutt (OC, you can read more about him in The Detective Eliskandro Stories)
Length: One-shot
Challenge response: This story was written for the 2024 Fic-Gift Exchange as a gift for @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, who wanted a mushy L/M fic in a 3+1 format. Ny, this fic took on a life of its own as I wrote it and it didn’t turn out quite as mushy as anticipated, but I hope it’s still mushy enough for you to enjoy it as your end-of-year read!
Note: The various cosmetics mentioned in this story are my fanon; you can read about them in this fanon post.
A little bit of background: I have a love-hate relationship with the Union comics. Sometimes I really enjoy the sweetness of it all, sometimes I find the story unbearably sappy. However, even on a good day, there’s one thing that’ll always make me snort, and that’s Luke’s hairstyle during the wedding ceremony. Throughout the comics we see him sporting his regular farmboy haircut, but for the ceremony he has his hair slicked back in a style that belongs in the 1950s (and IMO should have stayed there). I can just smell the brilliantine and what can I say, I don’t like it. I wouldn’t expect Mara to like it either, so this is the story of how and why she refrains from commenting on it.


A Tuft of Stray Hair

Coruscant, 9 ABY

When she had been the Emperor’s Hand, Mara Jade had had access to the best of the finery the Imperial court had to offer. Her wardrobe held hundreds of gowns, each more elegant than the next, dozens of pairs of shoes made of the finest leather and ornamented with intricate buckles and priceless crystals, and a jewellery box that could make the heads of the wealthiest courtiers spin. Of course, many of these items doubled as weapons or technical aids for her missions inside and outside the palace. There were dresses that could transform into bodysuits, steel blades hidden in high heels and slicing chips embedded in pendants. The care she took in making herself appear like a pretty bauble was for the most part a component of her duties of keeping tabs on the Imperial elite, but the truth that she would never confess to was that she found pleasure in it.

This was a pleasure that she’d believed was lost to her forever when she found herself on the run from Ysanne Isard. Her sole focus became survival, and for years she drifted from one odd job to the next until she joined Talon Karrde and his crew. Her life as the smuggler’s second-in-command had been a net improvement on her years as a fugitive, but it was still a life devoid of luxuries, even if Karrde sometimes indulged in a sophisticated meal that he liked to accompany with exquisite wine. But now that Thrawn was defeated, that she had put Palpatine’s last command behind her, and that she would act as the liaison between the Smugglers’ Alliance and the government of the New Republic, it occurred to her that she might be able to allow herself a few moments of self-care.

Karrde was apparently of the same mind. Mara had worn one of her usual, no-nonsense tunic-and-trousers outfits to the signature of the agreement between the Smugglers’ Alliance and the Republic in the morning, but he pulled her aside after the ceremony and pressed a credit chip into her hand. “This is for your attire expenses,” he said. “No, no, no objections,” he added when she went to protest. “You’ll have to attend all sorts of shindigs in your new capacity, starting with the reception tonight. It’s only fair that the Smugglers’ Alliance picks up the tab.” And he sent her on her way. There was a hefty amount of credits on the chip, making it clear that this wasn’t pocket money; and Mara understood that he was counting on her to purchase a wide variety of clothes in order to be able to fit in any occasion.

She made her way to the Fashion Concourse in CoCo Town where she was pleased to find that some of her favourite designers were still in business. The Erwan Angel-Lawrence boutique had the exact gown she needed for the upcoming function and it required only minor adjustments to fit her slim frame. The employees offered to bring her a cup of caf and a snack while she waited, but she declined and went outside. She wanted to make a list of the items she’d need for her new wardrobe, and a hive of excitable seamstresses wasn’t the place to do that. There was a cosy diner two levels down; she began to walk in its direction when a flashing neon sign caught her attention.

Most of the Imperial courtiers that Mara had known wouldn’t be caught dead in Shazam, but Mara knew better. Eliskandro the Hutt was a master of his trade, a hairdresser and groomer of galactic reputation, and she’d often come to his salon to have her hair done when the Emperor had summoned her to attend a ball or a reception in the palace. Plus, Eliskandro was one of the very, very few beings in the galaxy who could make her laugh; and, given the turn her life had taken, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed. Without a second thought, she toggled the door and slipped inside. She wouldn’t charge this to Karrde’s credit chip, but there was no reason she shouldn’t treat herself to a fancy hairdo at her own expense.

The salon was exactly as she remembered it, but the New Republic had abolished the Imperial Department for Health, Hygiene and Human Protection – an entirely useless department, if Mara said so herself – and she relished the idea that she wouldn’t need to wear one of those ridiculous breathing masks while Eliskandro took care of her. Besides, he was known to be partial to Jill Ett’s Gastropod Glop Desiccant, and it truly did wonders at keeping bodily secretions at bay. The Hutt himself, as usual, lorded over his salon from atop a velvet-coated dais; he was wearing an emerald waistcoat with a fluffy bow tie and lowered himself to the floor as soon as he saw her.

“Countess Claria! How mahvelous to see you, how mahvelous indeed!”

Mara suppressed a grimace. “That would be Trader Jade now, Eliskandro. Imperial nobility titles have been revoked.”

Eliskandro stopped dead in his tracks. “How very disappointing. I was hoping the New Republic would maintain them. Coruscant can be so… ordinary sometimes. It could use a little flair, don’t you think?” He slithered forward and helped her to a Human-sized chair. “But no matter! True nobility stems from the heart – or another relevant core organ, as the case may be – and you, dahling, have never needed any help on that front. Now. What will it be?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mara said airily. “I’m invited to an official function tonight and I want to make an impression.”

The Hutt blinked his nictitating membranes. “An impression on the guests at large, or on a special someone?”

The image of Skywalker flashed inexplicably through Mara’s mind. She felt her face warm. “On the guests at large,” she ground out, forcing the unbidden thought from her mind. “I’ll leave the details to you. Surprise me.”

Eliskandro hadn’t lost his touch during the years that Mara had spent out in the cold, and she could tell that the appreciative looks she attracted when she entered the reception hall in the evening had as much to do with her hairstyle as with her gown. The elaborate updo emphasised her neckline, the soft ringlets framed her face perfectly and the crystal beads that the Hutt had embedded in her locks matched those that studded her dress. What made it even better was that many of the guests in attendance didn’t recognise this elegant woman for the new liaison of the Smugglers’ Alliance, and she was able to weave her way through the crowd with minimal small talk until she reached a quiet corner where only those in the know would approach her.

She sensed a presence behind her and spun around to find Skywalker looking at her. Unlike her, he wasn’t dressed in formalwear; he had come in his usual black outfit with his lightsaber hanging from his belt. His hair was a little neater than usual, but it was still in that neutral, inconspicuous style he favoured – part of the farmboy charm, no doubt. As he gave her a mock bow, she noticed that a stray tuft stood up on end on the crown of his head. She was almost tempted to reach and flatten it before she caught herself.

He straightened himself and gave her an admiring smile. “You look good.”

What were those butterflies suddenly fluttering in her stomach? “I do my best,” she retorted a little more acidly than she intended.

Skywalker’s eyes sparkled. “I never had the je-ne-sais-quoi it takes to attract attention in these receptions,” he said, “but I think you could help me out.” He held out his hand. “Want to dance?”

* * *​

Coruscant, 11 ABY

Mara stared in dismay at the field of ruins that lay before her. The conquest of Coruscant by a coalition of Imperial warlords, the civil war that had ensued, the crash of the Liberator on the planet’s surface and the Force-powered wormhole that Palpatine had aimed at his former capital to abduct Skywalker had caused untold devastation to the world she had come to call home; and while it was a consolation to know that the Emperor Reborn had been defeated forever on Byss, it would not bring back the millions of lives that were lost.

She picked her way carefully through the rubble as she scanned the destroyed buildings around her. The Smugglers’ Alliance had volunteered to support the New Republic with their search-and-rescue efforts, but now, two full weeks after the conflict had come to an end, Mara knew – as did everyone else – that it was a pointless endeavour. Any survivors had already been found, and those who were still buried under tons of flattened durasteel and permacrete were very much dead.

She had reached the end of the sector assigned to her in CoCo Town and was putting away her scanner when a familiar flash of neon caught her attention. The lights of Shazam were on, and there was a new, smaller sign under the main one that read: “Yes, we’re OPEN!”

Without thinking, she palmed the door and stepped inside. The salon had visibly seen some action during the Imperial civil war, but the staff had miraculously survived and the chairs, mirrors, consoles and massage booths had all been restored. Eliskandro was dressed in one of his colourful waistcoats and wore for good measure a satin top hat; his dais hung at an angle – clearly the left-hand side repulsorlifts had taken a hit – but his good humour was as infectious as ever.

“Trader Jade!” he exclaimed. “Oh, dahling, how wonderful to see you! With the damage that the palace sustained, I feared the worst! Isn’t that where you have your offices?”

Mara couldn’t prevent a grin from creeping into her dejected features. “Let’s just say that we’re in the market for new premises.”

“Ah, yes,” the Hutt said wistfully. “These civil wars are terrible for business, and I must tell you, those Imperial warlords were terribly behind the times. Such an outdated approach to fashion trends! When you reach my age, you think you’ve seen it all – I turned four hundred and six this year, you know, and –” He suddenly caught himself. “You won’t tell anyone, will you, Trader Jade? I’d hate for Shazam’s patrons to think that their groomer is over the hill.”

It took all of Mara’s years of Imperial training to suppress the uncontrollable fit of giggles that was rising within her like a tidal wave. “Don’t worry, Eliskandro. You don’t look a day over two hundred.”

“Why thank you! I try, I try indeed, and there’s a new Gwerlayne Interstellar facial that works miracles; I am hoping to import it once trade relations with Chandrila are reestablished… But where are my manners? You came to the right place today, Trader Jade. A little sprucing up is what we all need in these troubled times.”

He was already guiding her towards a chair. She opened her mouth reflexively to tell him that the last thing she needed was an extravagant hairdo, but then she thought again. The sad fact was that there was nothing for her to do out there, and a healthy dose of the Hutt’s fiercely sunny disposition was definitely what she needed after all the death and destruction.

By the time she left to regroup with the rest of the search-and-rescue crews, she could see for herself that an hour in the groomer’s capable hands had lifted her spirits. Eliskandro had only given her a shampoo and a blowout – “nothing too fancy,” he’d said, “these are days of mourning and anything more would be inappropriate” – but she relished the feel of her red-gold curls waving around her shoulders. She glimpsed the Millennium Falcon in the distance as it came to land on one of the platforms that had been cleared of debris outside the ruins of the palace and she hastened her pace. She wanted to check for herself that Skywalker was fine after his encounter with the resurrected emperor – and she also wanted to have a few choice words with him about the poodoo-headedness of his strategy to defeat him.

The landing pad was a mess of people greeting and hugging each other when she arrived, but she could see quite plainly that Skywalker was just going through the motions. She waited for the crowd to thin out a little and walked straight up to him. He gave her a tired smile; her sense of him in the Force was subdued, but the haunted expression in his eyes receded somewhat as his gaze flitted to her hair.

“You look good,” he said.

This was most definitely not the time to acknowledge the butterflies that had begun fluttering in her stomach at the compliment, Mara told herself sternly. Instead, she looked him up and down. He was still in his combat suit; there were bruises on his face and his hair was a tangled mess amidst which the cowlick she’d noticed two years prior still managed to stand out. All thoughts of an angry tirade fled her mind at the sight of his utter exhaustion.

“And you,” she said, “look terrible.” She took his arm. “Come on, let’s find you a room in the part of the palace that’s still standing, and I’ll get you a medic and a ration pack.”

* * *​

Coruscant, 19 ABY

It was a sunny afternoon and CoCo Town was a bustling hive of activity as Mara made her way to Shazam. The news of the Pellaeon-Gavrisom treaty had taken the galaxy by surprise when war had seemed inevitable only a week earlier, but Coruscant never remained surprised for long and the shopkeepers were putting up decorations for the planetary celebration that would hail this new era of peace.

To Mara, the new era was one of so many changes that she couldn’t quite wrap her head around them. Peace was a big one, of course, but it was nothing compared to the fact that she was now a Jedi and that she was engaged to Luke Skywalker – the man she had once sworn to kill.

The yellow of Eliskandro’s waistcoat was so bright that she blinked several times upon entering the salon. “Sun colours!” the Hutt boomed. “It’s an ancient Hutt tradition to welcome a fortuitous event with sun colours! And we will do precisely that with your hair today, Trader Jade. Your chahming red-gold hue is the exact colour of sunrise. It’s just what we need to celebrate this time of peace!”

Mara paused. She hadn’t told anyone about her newfound status yet, but why not? She’d have to come out with it one way or another. “It’s not Trader Jade anymore, Eliskandro,” she said quietly. “It’s Jedi Jade.”

The Hutt clutched the golden necklace that sat around what he had for a neck. “Je… Je… Jedi?” he finally stammered. “A Jedi in my salon? Why I’ll be…” His jaw worked for a moment, and he dropped off his dais without even trying to suppress the disgusting squishing sound that his body made upon contact with the floor. “Pulastya!” he shouted when he found his voice. “Pulastya dahling! You would not believe – and where is Foodie? We need a bottle of shahmpeing! No, make it two. As many as we have in the house!” He fanned himself with a pillowcase-sized handkerchief. “A Jedi, here! How mahvelous! Oh! I’m all of a dither!”

A bemused Mara found herself surrounded by the entire staff of the salon who were all congratulating her at once. It was only half an hour later, when the shahmpeing had been drunk and she managed to disentangle herself from the hand, paw and clawshakes that she was able to bring her mind back to the reason for her visit. “I’m going to need a hairdo, Eliskandro. I’ll be attending the Peace Ball tonight.”

“Of course, of course,” the Hutt said distractedly as he led her to a chair. “What would you like?”

“I’ll just let you work your magic. And I should tell you, I really want to make an impression.”

At this Eliskandro tilted his bulbous head in question. “An impression on the guests at large, or on a special someone?”

Mara closed her eyes, picturing the image of Luke’s smile. “A special someone,” she said. “I’ll tell you about him some other time.”

Luke was waiting for her in the hallway when she exited her quarters to go to the ball. She was wearing a stunning ivory dress and Eliskandro had outdone himself, interspersing red and gold threads in the long braid that he had wrapped around her head like a crown. Her future husband grinned from ear to ear.

“You look good,” he said.

There went the butterflies again, Mara thought wryly as the Force pulsed between them. And it wasn’t just the compliment this time – he looked really handsome too, even with his simple black outfit and his mussed farmboy hair. “Why thank you, good sir,” she replied. “Shall we?”

Luke bowed and offered her his arm. That pesky cowlick still stuck out of the crown of his head, but it didn’t matter. When they were married, she’d figure out a way to iron it out.

* * *​

Coruscant, 20 ABY

Mara stalked the alleys of CoCo Town as she made her way to Shazam, wondering for the umpteenth time why she had agreed to such a grand wedding. It wasn’t just that she had found herself in the public eye, which was something she hated, but there was a group of disgruntled Imperials that were keen on wreaking havoc on the ceremony, and it just didn’t feel right that half the New Republic security forces on Coruscant be assigned to protecting her and Luke. But of course, Leia was right. The marriage of the former Emperor’s Hand and the first of the new Jedi was highly symbolic of the new state of affairs and it had to be emphasised for all to see – not to mention that, despite his humble lifestyle, she could feel that Luke enjoyed the idea of this celebration, and she knew that he’d gone to great lengths to make it as magnificent as possible. Han and Leia hadn’t told her the details, but indications were that he wouldn’t be wearing his black-outfit-cum-drab-robes today and she fully expected that he would look very handsome indeed in formalwear.

She managed to reach the salon undetected and slipped inside. Eliskandro had kindly arranged that there be no other clients when she came for her bridal ‘do – he’d actually offered to come to the palace himself, but Mara had declined in order to allow herself some time away from the preparations. What surprised her was that he wasn’t his usual exuberant self; on the contrary, his mood was uncannily subdued. “Is there something wrong?” she asked after a few minutes.

The Hutt grunted. “Master Skywalker was here earlier today,” he offered by way of an explanation.

“Luke? Here in Shazam?” Mara blurted. “I hope you took holos.”

“Ah, dahling. I would have, I would have, but –”

Mara spun her chair around and gave him an inquisitive look. “What is it, Eliskandro? Out with it.”

The Hutt waved a stubby hand. “I merely disagree with his choice of a hairstyle for the ceremony. The one he preferred is distressingly classical, whereas I was hoping for something more… Jedi.”

Mara couldn’t quite process the idea of her husband-to-be surrendering himself to the groomer’s services, but it warmed her heart to think that he’d gone to the effort of making himself look good for her. She spun back to face the mirror. “Luke’s a Jedi every day of his life, Eliskandro. He can allow himself one day to be simply a man.”

“Well… you have a point,” Eliskandro said cautiously. “Now let us talk about you. Given the design of your gown, I believe that we should go for something simple yet elegant. You know what they say, minimal is maximal.”

By the time she entered the wedding hall in the afternoon, Mara had grown very eager and impatient to see Luke’s outfit – so eager and impatient, as a matter of fact, that she was able to block out the sense that there was a pitched battle raging outside. She forced herself to move slowly as she walked up to her husband. She could see that he wore an elegant black jacket over an ochre wraparound waistcoat whose design was clearly intended to recall a Jedi tunic, with a dark red undershirt and a white lavallière for contrast. He was everything she could wish for on this day – good-looking, stylish, suave – and she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms, because she knew how far out of his comfort zone he’d pushed himself for this…

… until she saw his hair.

It was slicked back in a style that had gone out of fashion sometime before the Clone Wars, held in place with such a generous application of pomade that it shone like a helmet – and, given the speckles she could see here and there, Eliskandro must have sprinkled a dash of L’awreal Fur Glitter over his head once he was done.

Well. At least that unruly cowlick had been glued down with the rest.

But all these considerations faded away at the look Luke gave her when she finally arrived in front of him. It was admiring, and warm, and devoted – the Force was humming with pure, unconditional love – and he clearly couldn’t believe his luck that he was marrying Mara Jade.

To be honest, neither could she. The butterflies in her stomach were going haywire.

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear: “You look good.”

The End

 

@Chyntuck !!!

Thanks ever so for this delightful gift fic.

You got Mara's voice superbly and the L/M progression from friends to so much more!



The first scene had just the right post TLC tone as Mara reflects on how far she's come.

I love that she enjoyed dressing up and looking fine during her Emperor's Hand days.

Luke telling her "You look good," made me chuckle. It has just the right "I have no adequate words so I'll just give the understatement of the year!" LOL plus he doesn't want to gush too much.
She sounds absolutely gorgeous BTW.

The next scene is a stark contrast with the devastation and Luke's mood after that whole boneheaded Byss venture.

SQUEEAGE at the scene where Mara is now Jedi Jade and engaged to Luke. The joy and affection between them is sweet as they bask in one another during the peace ball.

The final scene is scrumptious. Of course Mara would hate the fuss of an over the top ceremony but all that is forgotten and Luke and Mara are wrapped up in one another with boundless joy and love.

Mara having butterflies from the very beginning is just too precious and that tuft of stray hair is too adorbs and something I'm going to have to work into my L/M stuff.

 

Perfect with Mara each time visiting Coco-town and Eliskandro the hutt doing her hair and finding out that Luke had done his hair there too for the wedding. A tuft of hair that had to be glued. Mara should fuss about that but forget it too after meeting him and marrying him. I am a lover of the legends

 

A canonical explanation for Luke’s admittedly…other hair in that comic. I had fun reading about Eliskandro, especially hearing a voice that reminded me of Edna from The Incredibles.