Saga - Legends The Dark Fire Chronicles (AU OT - Luke, Leia, Vader, Han, Mara, OCs and more)

Glad you enjoyed it! I wondered if it would be too dark, but hey...if there were no villains, there'd be no story.

 

Chapter Two cont.


The training room in Darth Vader’s personal quarters was alight with brilliant color and silent save for the hum and clash of weapons. If anyone were to see Leia Naberrie at that moment, they would have had trouble believing she was a princess.

They would have thought her a fierce warrior instead.

She cartwheeled with one hand, grasping her lightsaber in the other as she dodged her father’s swift kick. He was agile for a man of forty-two, and still incredibly powerful. Age, it seemed, had only increased his strength. In his youth he had been a formidable opponent – Leia had heard stories of the Jedi Purge, and she shuddered at the thought of meeting her father in any such duel. But now he was no longer formidable. He was unstoppable. Which was why he was training her to be able to defeat him.

Leia crouched low to the ground, then sprang into the air, flipping over his head while blocking his attack. Red blade met blue as she landed behind him. He shoved her hard with the Force, knocking her backwards onto the ground. Thrusting her lightsaber up to meet his, she rolled away and jumped to her feet. They circled one another, father and daughter, Vader holding his lightsaber over his head, Leia holding hers out in front of her, letting it sway back and forth. It cast its blue light across her damp face as she exhaled.

“Good.” Her father brought his lightsaber down and deactivated it. Leia watched warily, choosing to keep her weapon ready. Dry amusement flashed across her father’s face. “Leia?”

The princess’s stony countenance melted into a grin. “It is unwise to lower your defenses,” she mimicked.

Vader smirked, his eyes shining with a humored light. “You remembered. Very good.”

Leia deactivated her lightsaber and bowed to her father. He returned her bow with a slight bend at the waist, a sign of superiority. Her father was always the honorable warrior. He would rather face an enemy in physical combat than destroy them through lies and deceit. But certain things had to be done. That’s what he always told her anyway.

Stray thoughts like those always led her toward numerous questions. Questions that were normally left unanswered, if her father had anything to say about it. Thinking of honor, she wondered if her father had behaved honorably during the Purges. She didn’t know much about them, having been only a newborn when they began. Most of the information on them was wiped off of the records, just like the Jedi themselves. What little else remained were the memories of the older generation. Her father’s generation.

“Father?” Leia hooked her saber on her belt and wiped sweat off of her forehead. Her brown eyes were wide with curiosity. “Why do you train me?”

The man looked suddenly older and inexplicably darker. “You know why I am training you. Don’t ask questions needlessly, daughter.”

Any other person would have cowered in fear and begged forgiveness for their blatant stupidity. Not Leia. She was stubborn in a way that even she did not fully understand. It was an attribute that her father did not possess in so great an amount, so she could only assume it came from her long-dead mother.

“Father, I know that you want me to become the next Sith apprentice.” It was true. Her father had told her that this was the entire purpose of the unique middle names that were given to her and Luke when they were born. Ember and Shade. It had been too early to determine which twin was most fit to be a Sith, so they’d both been given names that would be suitable. Leia sometimes wondered what had compelled her father to choose those particular names.

“Then what is it, daughter?” Vader asked impatiently. If there was one characteristic that truly described her father for the whole of his life, it would most likely be impatient. Luke had inherited that. Leia was stuck with being overly outspoken. Which was why she had trouble containing these questions when she was around her father.

“Father, ever since I can remember I’ve been told of my destiny. How someday I will be Darth Ember, how I’ll be not only the greatest apprentice ever to live, but I’ll be the daughter of the Sith Master.” Leia held out her fingers to count each memorized line. “Anger and hate are my allies. My skills with a lightsaber will someday be as renown as yours, and you will proudly say that I am of your blood.” Leia paused for a moment to let her words sink in, then continued. “But Father, there’s one thing that troubles me.”

“What is it, my child?”

Leia took a steadying breath. “My name.”

Vader stared at her silently, not a thought or emotion apparent on his face, nor in his presence. Leia met with only a hazy fog when she tried to reach his mind. It had always been so, as though something were hanging over her father, inhibiting his ability to reach out to others. “Your name?” he murmured, a hint of something odd in his voice. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it was, but she knew for certain that she had somehow affected him.

“Yes.” The look on Leia’s face was almost beseeching. “I don’t want to change my name when I’m a Sith. How can I be anyone but Leia? How can I give up my brother? If I change my name, I may still be your daughter, but what is there to show that I’m Luke’s sister?” She watched as Vader seemed to turn the thought over in his sharp mind. “I don’t want to be Lady Ember. I want to be Leia.”

“You can still be Leia. Nothing can change that.”

Leia eyed him quizzically. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Daughter, what nonsense do you speak?”

The princess stepped closer to her father. “I have never asked you this before, Father, but I want to know. What was your name?”

He staggered as if struck. “It is of no consequence.” He turned away, grabbing his black cloak.

“I want to know—”

“You will not know!” Vader roared, whirling on the young woman. She backed away in true fear. Never before had her father spoken to her so. She bit back tears.

“You gave me my mother’s name, but you don’t expect me to keep it!” She felt one drop slide down her cheek and cursed herself inwardly for crying in front of him. “If your name doesn’t matter, why should mine?” Now with more tears dripping freely down her face, she fled from the training room, heading for the sanctuary of her own quarters.

The last glimpse that she caught of her father was of him standing in silent, confused anger as his dark cloak fell to the floor.

***

 

I was just about to retire when I saw that you'd posted more, so I read it. Another good post, it keeps getting more interesting. I'm looking forward to the rest of this story.

 

awesome post, Aiden! That Aiden sure is a cocky fellow, what was it that Luke said in the throne room? "Your over-confidence is your weakness"? I think it was that, well anyways, thats the first thing I thought when I read this. Yipee, Mara's on a mission! Its so cool how everything is coming together...

 

imagine my surprise when I saw that there was MORE!

Very cool training session, I like the part about Leia not wanting to change her name, very in character for both of them and it definitely struck a chord with Daddy Darth!

 

TW - glad to know that you caught this before leaving, and more will be up soon!

Mystic - thanks very much! Aidan was fun to write, as was the scene between Vader and Leia. I love Vader/twins moments!

 

Ooh--that was excellent. I've got shivers running up and down my spine. I can't wait to see how Mara does, and I'm intrigued by Aidan. Very creepy in how he dealt with the man who was following him. But I think he may have more trouble dealing with the Empire.

And another post! This one is even better. I love Leia's interaction with Vader, and how she wanted to keep her name, and know his. Stunning. And there's the explanation for the middle names that I was waiting for.

Fortunately for her, Leia is both princess and fierce warrior. Great combination.

 

Vi, this is excellent! Very well written, and really interesting plot twists already. I look forward to seeing where you take this story.

 

Moony - Once again, you're too kind.

Gabi - Welcome! Great to see you here, and I'm glad you like it so far!

More soon!

 

This one should be a little longer. Hope you like it!

***
Chapter Three: Sands of Time


“Cal, you’ve hardly touched your food.”

The young farm hand shoveled his food around on his plate as he rested his chin on one palm. His mother set a pitcher of juice down on the table as she gazed at her son.

“Cal?”

He looked up absently, as though he’d just woken up from a long dream. “Beru said that Owen got a bad feeling about the Tuskens.” He looked across the table at his parents as they stopped eating.

“Owen Lars?” Eram Nightrunner set his fork down and raised one eyebrow. He was a weathered older man with a strong build and an even stronger love for the land. He would never think of leaving Tatooine, not in a million years.

Cal nodded. “Yeah, Owen Lars. How many Owens do you know?”

“Don’t get saucy with me, Cal.”

The boy lowered his eyes. “Sorry, Dad.” He went back to shoveling his food back and forth.

Eram grunted as he picked up his fork again. “That farmer is just a crazy old man.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to work for him.”

“Well you’re old enough to earn your keep. He still has a mind for farming and for money and such, but as for being with normal folks…he’s just crazy.” His father spoke like a man who believed what he was saying simply because there was nothing else to believe.

Cal shook his head, brushing his light brown hair out of his eyes. “But Beru seemed really worried.” He didn’t really believe there was anything wrong, but for some reason he felt he needed to at least stick up for Beru.

Eram frowned. “Bad feeling…he’s been getting a ‘bad feeling’ ever since his stepmother died.” Cal looked up quickly as a sharp nudge from his mother silenced Eram before the man could continue. Tani kept her gaze on the plate before her.

Cal stared at his now quiet father, wondering what he’d meant. All he knew was that Owen’s stepmother had died many years before, followed by his father sometime later. The circumstances surrounding her death were a mystery, as were many things about the Lars family. Sometimes in his youth when he went to the market with his mother, he overheard the local gossips talking about anyone and anything that passed by. One time when Beru had been in town, Cal heard the women speaking in hushed tones about “how tragic it was” and how “the poor thing has to live out there all alone now, with only her gruff husband for company.” Those words were spoken long ago, when Beru had still held onto the traces of youth. Cal remembered her that way, but it was a dim memory, replaced now by the image of a hardened older woman with no children and no future beside the one on Tatooine.

Cal wondered why the older generation was hesitant to discuss whatever had happened. Somehow he got the feeling that it was important – therefore the adults, being solid Tatooinians, had to bury the knowledge as quickly as possible. It was as though anything out of the ordinary had to be hidden, lest the youngsters grow bold and try outrageous things, like leaving the barren planet.

“Mom,” Cal said cautiously. He wasn’t sure if she would answer his question, but it was worth a shot.

“Yes, Cal?”

He swallowed his hesitancy. “How did Owen’s stepmother die?”

Tani paled as she glanced over at her husband, as if blaming him for their son’s curiosity. “Now that’s not really your business, Cal.”

“But you know.”

His mother looked a little older than usual. Cal could see the gray hairs starting to creep into her dark hair. “Yes,” she sighed. “I know. For the most part, I know.” Her eyes rose to meet her son’s relentless gaze.

“Why is it such a big secret?”

Tani reached across the table and placed a small hand over Cal’s much larger one. “Cal, you have to understand…it was something we thought we were used to, or at least prepared for…but somehow at the same time, it was different.”

Cal couldn’t really understand what his mother was getting at, so he tried to prompt her. “It has to do with the Tuskens, doesn’t it? Did they kill her?”

“Well, not exactly. I mean yes, but not right away.” Tani withdrew her hand and set both hands in her lap. “I’m sure you’ve heard stories about the Tuskens and how they haven’t really been a problem over the last two decades.”

“A little. Not many people are willing to explain, Mom. Mostly I know that Tuskens are violent, and they used to attack settlers who strayed too far from their homesteads. Then they just stopped. Like they got scared of us or something.”

Tani glanced at her husband again. She seemed to be considering whether or not to tell the story. “Owen’s stepmother was taken by Tusken Raiders twenty-two years ago. Thirty men went out after her. Only four came back. Owen and his father were two of the survivors.”

Cal felt his jaw drop in surprise. He suddenly had the mental image of a young Owen Lars – he could actually see the farmer as a young man now – riding his precious swoop out in search of the woman he’d come to call his mother. Across the desert they sped, all thirty of them, with Owen and his father gravely determined. Cal shuddered at the thought of what had happened when they found the sand people. Twenty-six men dead. No wonder there were more older women in Anchorhead than there were older men. Suddenly it seemed acceptable for Owen to be so gruff and alienated. Anyone who had witnessed that many murders in the heat of battle had a reason to be withdrawn.

“Did they find her?” Cal was fascinated now. Never before had he heard such a tale, knowing that it was true.

His mother sighed. “No. They never got that far. Cliegg Lars lost his leg, and Owen had enough trouble getting him home without being attacked again. They couldn’t get more men to go after her again…the entire community had been devastated by both the attacks and the rescue attempt.” Tani wiped her eyes, which had started to water up.

“Well then how do you know she died? Maybe the Tuskens didn’t kill her. Maybe they—”

His father’s harsh laugh interrupted him. “Kids these days don’t know anything about the sandpeople.” Eram chuckled darkly as he stared at his son.

Tani shook her head. “We know she died because her body was brought back. And buried.”

“I’ve never seen any graves.”

“Owen took all three of the tombstones down for some odd reason, a few years after Shmi died. No one knows why.”

“Oh.” Cal thought that maybe he should never have asked. He wanted to know, but at the same time, he felt guilty for making his parents remember. “How do you know all this, Mom?”

Eram draped one arm across his wife’s shoulders, answering for her. “Because her father was one of the other survivors. And her brother was one of the twenty-six that were killed.”

A few stray tears dripped down her still pretty face. “It’s true.”

Cal wanted to curl up and die. He thought his uncle had died in a speeder accident. “Mom…I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine, Cal. You were just curious. It was a long time ago anyway.”

The young man sighed wearily. “May I be excused? I have some chores to finish.” It wasn’t true, but he couldn’t bear to see his mother’s tears.

His father looked up at him. “Sure. Just be in before dark.”

A shiver ran down Cal’s spine as he imagined being caught outside when dusk fell. Suddenly the idea of Tuskens attacking was not so impossible. Then he was reminded of the fact that sandpeople had not attacked settlers for twenty-two years. He had forgotten to ask his parents why, or perhaps they had forgotten to tell him. Either way, he now wondered what could possibly have scared the Tuskens away, and why they had not yet returned.

As he walked outside and stared at the setting suns, Cal realized that his mother had never told him why that particular attack was so different. He assumed at first that it was because of the personal loss, but after a moment of thought, he began to doubt it. Something in his mother’s face when she’d started to tell him the story…the way her eyes grew both misty and frightened at the same time…something else had happened between the time of Shmi Lars’s abduction and her death that gave his mother that look – that fear.

He had forgotten to ask how they found the dead body.

***

 

Added a summary to the very first post. Check it out.

 

Good post, and

"That farmer is just a crazy old man."

That reminds me of... well, something...
hmmm.....

 

Hmmm...who could that possibly remind you of?

Upsies for my readers!

 

Very interesting, Vi. Although this would seem to be a fairly straightforward retelling of these events, your earlier posts have already taught me not to take anything for granted. Is there a twist here too, I wonder? And if so, where? Hmmm....

 

Once I again, I think Cal is cool.

It's nice to see how Shmi's death has become one of the area's widely-known secrets. And Owen seems to be getting payback in this universe for what he said about Ben!

Great post.

 

at readers

Plot twists? What are these plot twists you speak of?

Glad you are enjoying it, Moony and Gabi! Here's some more for you to chew on.

***
Chapter Three cont.


The stench of melted metal filled the training room as another assassin droid dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

All too easy.

Vader stood over the wrecked mass and deactivated his crimson saber. It was on the verge of pathetic, how simple it had become. The droids could only be so fast, so intelligent. Vader frowned, his dark blonde eyebrows furrowed. He was in every way superior to these machines.

Well…almost every way.

The Dark Lord left the room and headed for his meditation chamber. Kneeling in the middle of the dark room, he closed his eyes and let his mind open to the world around him. Emotions flooded his senses. Droids did not have emotions, at least not like humans had. A droid did not experience passion or rage or betrayal like a human could. In that way they might be considered superior.

Close to his quarters he could feel Luke doing some light exercises. His thoughts were scattered and few. That was one of the things Vader admired about his son – his ability to meditate without interruption. Vader had often had trouble in his youth when told to meditate. Leia had the same problem. She would much rather run through a vigorous sparring session or practice with her lightsaber. His daughter was quite the natural warrior.

His daughter.

Leia.

She was the cause of this lack of focus he was experiencing, whether he wanted to admit it or not. The Sith Lord had few weaknesses, but when he was alone in the dead of night he had to face the fact that his children made him weak…at least as far as the dark side was concerned. The Emperor hated the twins because of both their effect on their father and their unmatched Force potential – Vader had known this ever since he brought the infant twins to Imperial Center. He had wanted to hide them from his master, but at the same time he needed them to be with him…to be his. His children.

Mine and Padmé’s.

No. He was not going to travel that path again. He’d done it too many times in the last nineteen years. The choice had been made – he was a Sith Lord, and no one could change that. His wife was dead. A tragedy, yes, but now he had his children. He’d given them her name. It was the least he could do, he told himself. Or maybe he was just trying to escape a ghost.

Vader smirked in the pitch dark as another memory came to him. His decision to give the twins their mother’s last name. The Emperor had not liked that either. But “Vader” just didn’t seem right for the two small children. And he could hardly give them his birth name.

“If your name doesn’t matter, why should mine?”

Leia had certainly given him something to think about, if not in the way she’d hoped. His old life was gone. Nothing could change that. But as he replayed her words over and over, he thought about the truth in them.

He really did expect her to give up her name. He expected her to become nothing but Darth Ember, a Sith. Not Padmé’s child, not his daughter Leia.

Just a Sith.

For a brief moment he wondered why she’d been chosen. Why had he allowed himself to train her in the use of the dark side? She was nowhere near as corrupted as Palpatine or even himself. In fact it amazed Vader that she and Luke had remained as good as they were, living in such close proximity to the Emperor. But then there were moments in her training when the hatred would fill her, when Vader was almost unable to keep up with her. In her dark eyes he could see raw anger, a reflection of his own. Just when she would come dangerously close to defeating him, just before his own anger would surge to overpower hers, Leia would back down and apologize for her insubordination.

Vader tried to punish her for her naïveté. She should never apologize for her talent. She should never apologize for touching the dark side. He wanted to find the strength to punish her physically or verbally. But he could never do it. She was still the little girl who had run to him when she had a nightmare. She was the little girl who had stood defiantly before the Emperor and yelled at him for being “a mean, ugly old man.” She was his child. And for a brief moment he did not want her to become the next Sith.

The Dark Lord sighed wearily. Anger, aggression, hate…these were his allies. They made him strong. They made him invincible. They allowed him to touch the Force in a way unrivaled by any other user. His children made him weak.

I don’t care.

He wished he could change his outer appearance, so that each morning when he saw himself reflected in the steel doors of his quarters, he would not be reminded of what he once was. He would not be able to see Luke’s blue eyes in his own steadily aging face or the tilt to his head that hinted of recklessness. He would not see the sharp, commanding presence of Leia reflected in the metal, nor the eyes twinkling with wit and bright intelligence. He would not be able to see his children in his own reflection, and it would not be so easy to love them.

I still don’t care. They are my children.

The future was so uncertain. He wanted to protect his children from the very man who had shown him the true nature of the Force. It was strange, to constantly fear for their safety. To bow to a man and carry out his every order, when in the back of his mind he knew that his children’s lives were in danger because of that same man. It was twisted, and yet it made sense to Vader. No, it made no sense. But he carried on anyway.

Someday Leia would be ready, and together they would overthrow the Emperor. Then he and the twins would be safe, and they would have all the power the galaxy could offer.

Yes. That was a dream worth waiting for.

Somewhere in the palace, Vader could feel Luke drifting off to sleep.

Rest, my son.

He let the Force carry his message, trying to make it gentler than normal. He couldn’t explain why it needed to be soft instead of commanding. It just had to be.

Luke was already halfway to sleep, but Vader felt a tug on his mind. More of an emotion than a word or thought. It was bright and warm, like afternoon on Naboo. He could feel it seep into the corner of his mind that still held tender memories of long ago days. It was love.

And for just an instant, Vader let the happiness enter his dark soul. Then Luke was asleep and it was gone. In its place, he felt a cold bleakness. It was Leia.

If he’d been any man other than Darth Vader, he might have gone to her and tried to offer comfort. He knew a man who would have done that, but that man was long dead.

The darkness crept into his being and stayed with him throughout the night, like a raven perched ominously over its prey. There was no escape – he’d given up trying long ago.

***

The space lanes over Rodia were quiet. Aari watched untrustingly as she approached the lone freighter ahead. As she gently guided her ship, Silent Blade, over to the freighter she began to grow nervous. There were hardly any other ships in sight – just a few smaller craft darting toward the planet, but that was all. Where were all the larger cargo vessels that should have been lumbering to and from Rodia? And for the matter, where were the Imp patrols?

Her spine tingled with anxiety. She hadn’t seen any Imperial ships at all. If they showed up, she knew that the Blade could outrun them. It was a Firespray-31, a fighter known for its speed and stealth. It could only carry about fifty metric tons of cargo, which was one of the things Aari liked about it. She didn’t want to go big when smuggling, and she wanted to be able to outrun the Imps if she had to. But still, just the absence of a patrol was unsettling.

The young smuggler contacted the freighter ahead. “This is the Silent Blade awaiting permission to bring the cargo aboard.” She heard the faint static as she broke off and waited for an answer.

“Silent Blade…please wait just a moment while we ready the cargo.” The captain of the freighter sounded like an old man with a cold. Aari laughed, imagining the pilot sniffling while he ordered his crew about.

“Sure,” Aari replied, leaning back in her seat. She glanced at the sensors. No activity so far, except for a small blip coming from the far side of the planet. Probably a transport or something. Nothing to worry about, she hoped.

Aari tried whistling while she waited for the slow freighter. Some people were so inconsiderate of other people’s schedules. She didn’t have all day.

Actually, she probably did.

Five more minutes went by and still no word from the freighter. She tried to tell herself that they were just having some technical problem, something that was keeping them from being able to dock with her. She should have asked about finding a space station somewhere close where they could load the cargo, but it was too late for that. The longer she waited, the more anxious Aari became.

This isn’t right…

Glancing down at her sensors, she saw the small blip grow larger as it came around the planet. What the…?

Looking off to her right, Aari saw a dark shape coming into view near Rodia. She swallowed with difficulty. That wasn’t a transport or even a passenger liner. It was an Imperial Star Destroyer. And it was coming right at her.

“Freighter…whatever you call yourself…there are Imps in this system!” Aari shouted into the com. No answer. She started to back away from the freighter when she saw more destroyers leaving hyperspace. Her hands locked on the controls, all she felt was fury. It had been a setup all along. She should have known it was too easy to be anything but a trap.

Swinging the Blade around, Aari readied herself for combat and darted away from the planet. She could lose these goons. In this ship, she could lose them. But the problem was that she was boxed in, with the only opening behind her, toward the planet. No way am I going back there. Hoping that her skills and her speed would save her while she brought up the coordinates for Tatooine, Aari plunged ahead, straight at the arriving destroyers. Come and get me.

The Imps fired repeatedly at her, but her vessel was too fast. She was gone before a laser blast could hit her. If she kept this up long enough, she could make the jump to hyperspace with ease.

Then the TIEs showed up.

Blast! Aari dodged the incoming fighters, knowing that they would certainly destroy her if she stayed here long. All she needed was another minute. The fighters sprayed her with fire, but her shields held. It was a good thing she’d modified them. She faked right, then rolled left, scoring one, two, three kills. A few more seconds now…

There! She blasted her way through the TIEs and started on a direct path for open space. She’d caught them off guard – in a moment they would catch up with her again. It was now or never. Yanking the lever back, she felt the Blade jump all the way to lightspeed. The stars stretched and became thick white lines as they streaked by at incredible speed.

Aari leaned back in her seat, wiping sweat off her brow. Concentration could really take a lot out of a person. She closed her eyes, mulling over how she had been double-crossed and how she was going to kill Vic when she got to Tatooine.

***

“Javan, may I have a word with you?”

The young diplomat turned away from the open balcony door and smiled at his cousin. “Of course, Bail.” He strode over to the plush chair opposite the senator and sat down, feeling the warmth of the fire on his face. It was a pleasant feeling, like most experiences on Alderaan. He sank into the chair.

Bail ran his fingers through his black hair – hair that matched Javan’s own, clearly showing that the two men were related. “Javan, I know you are worried about the Empire’s increased…interest in our affairs.” He placed careful emphasis on the word “interest” as his face grew solemn. “No doubt you’ve wondered if there are Rebels operating on Alderaan. You know that our people are supportive of the Rebellion in many ways, but we have never openly allied with the Rebellion.”

Javan nodded. This was all true. He had wondered about the presence of Rebel spies and military on his peaceful planet. He had also wondered what he could do to help, though he didn’t think he should tell that to his cousin.

The older man watched Javan silently for a minute, then continued on. “My dear cousin, I feel it is time for me to tell you the truth.”

The young politician leaned forward in his seat. Truth? About what? “I’m not sure I understand, cousin.”

Bail’s expression grew grave. “Javan, what I am about to tell you must not leave this room. Do you understand that?”

Javan nodded again. He’d never seen Bail this way, not even in the Senate. “Yes, cousin.”

Bail sighed. “My dear boy, it is true that there are Rebels operating on Alderaan. I should know, because I am one of them.” He held up a hand as Javan opened his mouth in shock. “Please wait. I’m not through. I am the leader of the Rebel cell on Alderaan, but I am even more than that. I am one of the leaders of the entire Rebel Alliance.”

Javan could feel his mouth hanging open in surprise. He wanted to smack himself for not seeing it sooner. Gentle, peace-loving Bail, who cried for the injustices done to thousands of others, who cried at night when he thought no one could see him. Strong, determined Bail, who faced off against the Emperor in the Senate again and again, never backing down. His warm, caring cousin, who still believed in freedom even though he was losing faith in the government. War hero, loyal Alderaanian, friend to the oppressed, brilliant senator – he could be nothing but a Rebel.

“Cousin,” Javan whispered, fearing that at any moment the Empire might storm the palace and take them all away. “Whatever you ask of me, I will do.” The young man drew a shocked breath as he realized the words he had uttered.

Bail leaned closer to Javan, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Javan, do not act out of your devotion to me. Any decision you make has to be your own.” His dark eyes grew increasingly troubled.

Javan stared straight into his beloved cousin’s eyes, trying to show some kind of strength. “Bail, I want to help you. The Empire is not what it once was. I want to do what I can.”

The senator shook his head sadly. “My boy, you do not have as many years behind you as I do. The Empire was never grand or glorious or promising. It was the scheming of a cruel, vicious man that brought the Republic to its knees. The corruption that destroyed the Republic was orchestrated by Palpatine, for the most part.” Bail sighed wearily. “Not even the Jedi could see it. Not until it was too late.”

Javan shut his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Bail had seen and done more than the young diplomat could possibly imagine. He felt like an infant, knowing nothing more than what he was told by those in power. But no more. He would think for himself, more than ever. The talent that he utilized in the political arena he would also use in educating himself about the truth of the Empire. He would do what he could to make things right in the galaxy, to bring back the former glory of the Old Republic.

Bail stood up, gazing into the fire as he rested a hand on the mantle. “So many people…” He trailed off, staring into the flames, as if seeing ghosts from a different time. Javan shuddered for some inexplicable reason. He wasn’t sure if his cousin was thinking of the countless innocents who had died in battle or if he was remembering individuals – fellow senators, close friends…maybe even a Jedi or two. Javan just could not tell what the older man was thinking as he continued to gaze at the fire.

“Bail,” Javan murmured, stepping over toward him. “I want to fight the Empire.”

The viceroy and prince of Alderaan nodded slowly, his eyes staring as if into Javan’s heart. “Very well.” He extended a hand, which Javan grasped firmly. “Welcome to the Rebellion.”

***

 

Yes! Javan is an official Rebel! And he can put his diplomatic powers to excellent use... until Palpatine gets suspicious. And I'm also developing a fondness for Bail.

It's sweet how Vader wishes to protect his children from having to become Sith and lose all the rest of their identity. You can see glimpses of Anakin Skywalker in him one minute, and then, as he leaves Leia to bleakness, Vader. Excellent characterization.

 

Good post there. Almost made me forget that I've probably lost my best friend.

 

Jumping out of lurkdom to let you know I find this a very fascinating well written story. I love the twists.

 

Moony - We can always use more Rebels, eh? The movies are starting to make Bail a really real character for us fans, and I wanted to extend that further and make him even more reachable. And thank you!

TW - *big hugs*

The famous Mom! - Welcome to my humble thread! I'm very glad you delurked. Nice to have another respected writer here.

More soonish!

 

Upsy daisy!

 

Great posts.

 

Just when she would come dangerously close to defeating him, just before his own anger would surge to overpower hers, Leia would back down and apologize for her insubordination.

I love this. Leia's not quite the perfect Sith yet, is she? 'Apologize for her insubordination'. *shakes head* That's great.

She was the little girl who had stood defiantly before the Emperor and yelled at him for being ?a mean, ugly old man.?

LOL! Beautiful.

He would not be able to see his children in his own reflection, and it would not be so easy to love them.

Hmmm, excellent point.

Very, very well done again, Vi. You write Vader's reflections and confusion so well. I love how Luke and Leia are portrayed here. I think that in a lot of ways, Leia more closely resembles Anakin than Padmé, and Luke more Padmé than Anakin. I also love how you have several different plotlines going at once. Quite captivating.

 

Cypher18 - Thanks!

Gabi - *eyes widen* Whoa! Long response! It seems to me that you can't become completely hateful when you have a father that you love, (even if he is a Sith and a very confused, troubled one at that,) and a twin brother who is your other half, (whom you also love).

Leia is such a bold, rambunctious woman in the movies, one can only assume she's been like that ever since she was a little girl. It seems only natural that a good child with the Force (and common sense) would recognize Palpy's evilness and still have the "audacity" to shove it in his face.

As for Leia being more like Anakin and Luke being more like Padmé...hmmm...that's exactly how I see it! (What a coincidence!) Ok, so I see both twins as possessing a good mixture of their parents traits, but I still think Leia leans toward her father and Luke leans toward his mother. I actually have tried listing different traits for all four of them and then I see which ones seem to be inherited by which twin...it's kinda fun! (And very useful when drawing ties between the parents and the children when writing fanfiction.)

But I've rambled enough. Time for me to work on more posts!

 

New post today or tomorrow!

Uppers!