Tyrian purple, Palpatine´s niece (OC), 23rd vignette of 25: answer

My vignette list:

Reader warning: Please excuse my weird English! I am German. English is only my Second language!

Vignette 1:

Titel: “The future is wide open”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A foster mother is deeply concerned about a former ward of hers. She even risks the wrath of a Sith lord - Darth Sidious.

Time frame: The story takes place almost a week after the events of RotS, which are in 19 BBY.

Planet of choice: Chandrila



Vignette 2:

Titel: “Hideout”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A little girl is left on her own for a couple of weeks, because a Sith lord - Darth Sidious - has better things to do than babysitting.

Time frame: The story takes place 56 BBY.

Planet of choice: Naboo



Vignette 3:

Titel: “Wurthering grass”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: On a bright summer's day a powerful Sith lord - Darth Sidious - is faced with the miracle of birth. He not aware of it yet, but this event will trigger in him the wish to create life itself with Sith alchemy and unnatural magic.

Time frame: The story takes place 59 BBY.

Planet of choice: Naboo



Vignette 4:

Titel: “Down in the willow garden”, a Nagina vignette for the Celtic Challenge 2017

Summary: An Imperial officer - Orson Krennic - marches along a Chandrilan river, a picnic basket in one hand and a blanket rolled up under one of his arms. His former babysitter girl, the secret niece of his Emperor, is with him. He has some murderous thoughts in his mind.

Time frame: The story takes place about 2 weeks after the events of RotS (19 BBY).

Planet of choice: Chandrila



Vignette 5:

Titel: “Such a perfect day”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A social pedagogue is deeply touched by the sweetness of his foster-daughter. Despite her young age she proves to be a true Naboo: alert for the needs of others and keen to help wherever she can. Her offer to babysit Orson Krennic, the baby boy of the neighbours, will not be an easy task. Gifted children demand a lot of attention and stimulation.

Time frame: The story takes place 51 BBY.

Planet of choice: Chandrila



Vignette 6:

Titel: “Bright eyes”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A working camp prisoner, ready to die any day now, gets an unexpected visitor. Suddenly, there is a new hope, maybe. Even though his former foster sibling is accompanied by a dangerous imperial officer. Somebody named Krennic.

Time frame: The story takes place 17 days after the events of RotS (19 BBY).

Planet of choice: Wobani



Vignette 7:

Titel: “The situation is under control”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: The end of the Clone Wars turns the life of a lot of people upside down. There is a married couple who have suddenly been blessed with a baby girl. The orphan is the daughter of a fallen Jedi knight. Many questions rise about her future upbringing. The very person whom Queen Breha and her husband Bail Organa would like to ask has vanished from Coruscant. She is a highly qualified kindergarten teacher and also an expert in early child development.

Time frame: The story takes place 2 days after the events of RotS (19 BBY).

Planet of choice: Alderaan



Vignette 8:

Titel: “The visit”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: The dinner table is laid. A wonderful roast is in the oven. The wine had time to breathe. But suddenly there is something very wrong in the girlfriend department. Even a Corellian man sometimes has to realize that not all can be controlled.

Time frame: The story takes place 31 BBY.

Planet of choice: Corellia



Vignette 9:

Titel: “This is the weeping song”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A Corellian wake is special. But this is not why a teenager - Boba Fett - has flown from his secret hiding place all the way to “The Elder Brother”. He owes some respect to the widow since they knelt in the sands of Geonosis together.

Time frame: The story takes place 21 BBY.

Planet of choice: - / Ship of choice: Slave I



Vignette 10:

Titel: “Bright star”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A little girl wakes up in the middle of the night. The night is too beautiful to fear it. But she has this nagging headache. Is her former kindergarten teacher Nagina sending out mental distress signals? Can Orson, the white dressed soldier downstairs, be blamed?

Time frame: The story takes place about 16 days after the events of RotS (19 BBY).

Planet of choice: Chandrila



Vignette 11:

Titel: “Master and servant”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A kiss is a harmless thing. Well, for most people that is. But a young Sith apprentice is not allowed to behave like a normal teenage boy. Members of his ancient order learned to fear that love will compromise the connection to the Dark Side of the Force.

Time frame: The story takes place about 12 years before TPM.

Planet of choice: Naboo



Vignette 12:

Titel: “Impossible girl”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: To be the Grand Vizier of the Empire is not an easy task. What makes it even more difficult is when private matters mix with state affairs. Sheev Palpatine is notorious doing that.

Time frame: The story takes place about 15 days after RotS.

Planet of choice: Coruscant



Vignette 13:

Title:“Bloodline”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A former child soldier wonders about the well-being of his younger foster sister. When he finally talks to her about her sorrows, he hears that the Sith are back. Which is bad news.

Time frame: The story takes place about 12 years before TPM.

Planet of choice: Chandrila



Vignette 14:

Title:“A night out”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A club visit does not go as planned for a one eyed officer. He is fairly often on secret missions for his boss, Director Krennic. Normally, they have a decent working relationship. Tonight, things are awkward between them.

Time frame: The story takes place about 2 weeks before RotS.

Planet of choice: Coruscant



Vignette 15:

Title:“Closer than sisters”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A well-known bounty hunter aims at her target, but does not (yet?) shoot. And suddenly a red haired girl, too clever for her own good, stands in front of her.

Time frame: The story takes place about 17 days after the events of RotS.

Planet of choice: Chandrila



Vignette 16:

Title:“True love”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A historian, specialized in Force lore and Force users, just has become acquainted with his new neighbour on Lothal. But the kindergarten teacher is not what he has expected her to be. Among her belongings is an ancient Sith brooch. The jewel was made at some point during the Golden Age of the Sith. Perhaps even during the reign of terror by Sith Lord Ieldis.

Time frame: Less than a week after RotS.

Planet of choice: Lothal



Vignette 17:

Title:“Shadow land”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A hard working, single mother discovers a dreadful truth. The man she trusted with the well-being of her baby girl let her down. An old Naboo saying says that“a scorpion will never change his nature”. That seems to be the only reality for a mighty Sith lord.

Time frame: The story takes place 17 years before the events of TPM.

Planet of choice: Naboo



Vignette 18:

Title:“Go gentle”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A Twi'lek art student, who has side job as a night club dancer, comes home for a large family party. It is a reunion she has been looking forward to, especially after Sheev Palpatine made himself Emperor. But there is a man, who is not welcome at the party. Someone who is not family and never will be. He is worse than a notorious stalker.

Time frame: The story takes place about 15 days after the events of RotS.

Planet of choice: Chandrila



Vignette 19:

Title:“Karma”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: A special guardian is out on her watch post in the middle of the night. But in the end her help is not needed. All is well, even though the moon of Jedha and the holy kyber crystals are doomed.

Time frame: The story takes place about 2 weeks after RotS (19 BBY).

Planet of choice: Chandrila



Vignette 20:

Title:“Shades of the night”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: Without his master being around a Sith apprentice roams a library full of forbidden treasures. He comes across something that he has not expected to find. Something that makes him question the being he pledged himself to quite recently.

Time frame: The story takes place about 2 weeks after RotS (19 BBY).

Planet of choice: Coruscant




Vignette 21:

Title:“Girls just wanna have fun”, a Nagina vignette

Summary: In the middle of the night a member of the Separatist army, and therefore a war criminal in the eyes of the Republic, is ordered on an unusual mission. The person who sends her on that mission is not someone to be trifled with.

Time frame: The story takes place about 4 months after the start of the Clone Wars (22 BBY).

Planet of choice: Coruscant




Vignette 22:

Title:“Shape of you”, a Nagina vignette

Time frame: The story takes place about 22 BBY.

Planet of choice: Coruscant

Summary: A warlord of means tries to bring bad news to his commander-in-chief personally. He is bold enough to overstep the boundaries of privacy. His dare makes him face a person he would never have expected at his master's side. Nor in his master's bed either.



Vignette 23:

Title: “Die another day”, a Nagina vignette

Time frame: The story takes place about 19 BBY, many weeks after Palpatine made himself emperor.

Planet of choice: Lothal

Summary: The Royal Imperial Academy is the first step stone for a young officer cadet. Even though the Coruscanti born man is not supposed to be on any missions yet, he has gotten one anyway. The more it continues, it seems it will either cost him his life or his loyalty.



To be continued!

...

 

Please tag me when you add something here dear AzureAngel2, especially with me being listed as co-author

Yep, great idea to get some of those thoughs surrounding your OC out here in great little scenes, without having to add the rest of the story. I really like reading bits like this, and found it intriguing to work with you to get the core of the idea for the scene polished and published here. Would have done so too had I not yet known Nagina from your Rage, Rage story actually. Well done, and keep it up.

 

Thanks @DarthUnlce for supporting the lousiest house wife ever with cooking, hoovering & other tasks in the flat at present.

I have no clue where all these words in my head come from. And why I have the obsession to write them down. Must be the fact that I work with kids between 1,5 years and 6,0 years 5 days per week for 35 hours. The majority of them also talks a lot.

Perhaps you should write while I dictate the text to you, but wait, my thoughts come out so tumbled and the words so twisted that this would never work.

So I am afraid, I will continue to be a crazy fan fic writer from the moment I enter the flat...

But I promise to be better with aiding you... like I did today.



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Tyrian purple, a vignette collection concerning Palpatine´s niece (my OC), Part 1

Title: “The future is wide open”, a Nagina vignette

Author: AzureAngel2

Co-Author and editor:@DarthUncle

Time frame: The story takes place almost a week after the events of RotS, which are in 19 BBY.

Summary: A foster mother is deeply concerned about a former ward of hers. She even risks the wrath of a Sith lord.


Disclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company


So long child, I'm on my way
And after all is done, after all is done
Don't be down, it's all in the past
Though you may be afraid

So long child, it's awful dark
And I've never felt the sun
I dread to think of when
When the wind blows

When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the wind blows

Life burns a savage wound, angry and wrought
Trusting a twisted word, you'll run, run away
You'll take him on home, you'll spin and taunt him
But they won't believe you, no matter what you'll say

So long child, it's awful dark
I never felt the sun
I dread to think of when
The wind blows

When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the wind blows


You wring your hands and gaze out of the window, watching the children. Their carefree laughter is music in to your ears. They roam through the balm grass. You could watch them for hours. Instead of computer games on the HoloNet they play 'Hide and Seek', 'Mother, May I' and 'Capture the flag' together. The wind carries their laughter and their cheers.


This year you and your husband are taking care of five orphans that the Clone Wars created: a Rhodian boy, a Wookie girl, a Twi'lek twin and a human girl. The latter is the latest arrival. A redhead of three standard years.


You love them all, care for them as if they were blood of your own blood. But little Mara with her jade eyes needs your special protection. She is highly Force-sensitive and these are dangerous times for children like her.


About a week ago the entire Jedi order has been declared an enemy of the state. There has been a huge battle at their Coruscant temple. Unsettling rumours of arrests and even executions go around, even here on Chandrila. Death warrants are handed out by the new government, which calls itself the Galactic Empire.


Your gaze wanders away from the playing children into the blue and almost cloudless sky.


The only sort of Empire that you know from the history books is the Old Sith Empire. A ruthless dictatorship of dark side Force users.


You are fully aware who is responsible for creating the current monstrosity. And a part of you suspects he might have planned this coup all along. In your pedagogical field of work you have to be a good judge of character. From the first moment you met him you have felt he was rotten to the core.


You turn away from the window and walk to the open box that you dragged out from under the marital bed. On top of it is an old paper college block, filled with scribblings that one of your foster children made in her teenage years.


The calligraphy of Nagina is as flawless as her Futhork, the informal writing style of Naboo.


You read the text quote from a certain Jedi Master Ood Bnar aloud, just to be sure that you understand it properly.


“Evil began in a time before recorded history, when magicians made themselves into kings… and gods… using the power of the dark side of the Force. The weak minded have ever been ready to obey one who wields great power. Those who learned the power of the dark side were quick to exploit this weakness – to make war. Again and again, the dark side has surged forth, like a storm… devouring whole worlds and entire star systems. Those who mastered dark power became the dark power. They unleashed destruction, for no other reason than selfish gain. They despoiled nations… destroyed whole civilizations.”


Another Hundred-Year Darkness seems to have come upon the known galaxy, while life on your farm goes on as it always has. Especially for the foster children in your household. Young ones who have already seen too much terror in their lives.


The past forty-five years you have been a safe harbour. First on Naboo, and later here on Chandrila.


The children which you take in usually come from dysfunctional families: domestic violence, severe neglect or abuse.


But the Clone Wars, even though they only lasted for three years, have brought a lot of changes and newly orphaned children to deal with to the foster care system. You and your husband give your best to cope.


You close the college block and look outside, into the rolling, grassy plains that reminded you so much of your home world. And of why you had to leave it.


“Mommy, I have to pee!” little Mara crows, looking a bit uncomfortable and wriggling around.


“Then hurry, love!” you advice the girl and off she bounds.


You look outside at the others again, now sitting in the grass and waiting for the return of their foster sister. They may be of different races and needed some time to settle down, but love and respect reign on this farm.


Nagina once thrived here, too.


Your heart turns heavy, when you think of your foster daughter, who is about to turn forty-one soon. Life has not been fair on her, but you and your husband tried to make a difference for her.


Actually, Nagina went into child care as well and became a kindergarten teacher. On Alderaan she got the necessary training and a fantastic university degree.


Yet stones are constantly put in her way by someone who should know better. Who owes her a thousand times, if not more.


For days you have delayed the HoloNet call, considering the possible outcome. Your husband already offered to place the call for you, but you begged him not to. His anger would make things worse. None of you knows whether the children will come to harm or not.


It would not be the first time that a member of House Palpatine oversteps the rules, acts against every possible Naboo tradition and honour.


You close your eyes and are brought back straight into a small office inside the Theed Capital Hospital. Once more you have a conference with a lady from social services, a member of the hospital council, the physician in charge, a prosecutor and someone from the NCPP, also known as the Naboo Child Protection Program.


If you concentrate enough, you hear their various reports again. Echoes in the back of your mind.


But then everything fades into the background and you remember a little form, floating in a bacta tank.


You struggle to leave the past behind and get back into the present.


Nagina needs you now more than ever.


You have to make that call.


And so you do.


There is no waiting queue, no secretary or aide holding you up. You are put through directly.


“Gita,” he says with a smile.


For a couple of heartbeats you stare at him.


Sheev is a couple of standard years younger than you, but he now looks like he is your great-grandfather. If you would not know any better, you would think you face severe substance abuse. The Jedi who stormed his office to assassinate him must really have given him quite a fight.


But this call is not about him or his disfiguring injuries. It is about Nagina.


“Your Majesty,” you reply, hoping that this is the correct term of addressing the former Supreme Chancellor from now on.


“For you just Sheev,” he purrs almost like a Token. “How may I be of service?”


He is a busy man. Has to be now that he is the Emperor. So you take the short cut. “Why Orson?”


It is a legitimate question and he knows that.


“They go way back,” he replies.


“Do you want her heart to be broken?” you press on, not adding all the other issues that you have with his extremely bad choice.


“You underestimate her inner strength,” he sighs.


“And you constantly wear her out, asking too much from her,” you decide, your arms crossed in front of your chest.


Your words are a bridge to the past.


Shortly around her third birthday Nagina had lost her birth mother, Mandré. Instead of doing the right thing, Sheev kept her like a precious gem. He hid her from the rest of the universe in the most unlikely places: the attic of his ancestral home, a boat house, the family hunting lodge and even a cellar. This insanity would have gone on, had not old Cosinga found out.


You bite your under lip, reminded of the scenario that followed next. An incident so foul it required getting you and your husband involved.


“Nagina needs a little bit of normality in her life, Sheev,” you state and do not squirm under his brooding look.


“Are you saying that Orson Krennic is not normal?” he challenges you.


“I doubt your judgement here,” you clip. “You of all people know that she has this urge to help others. Especially when she believes them to be lost in darkness.”


He says nothing.


“I have spoken to Orson's father recently.”


No reaction.


You try a different approach. “Let them at least come here so that I can speak to Orson myself.”


The yellow tinge in his eyes grows darker, more threatening. You see red blood vessels show up in them like spider webs. “I will consider it. If you swear to me that none of the things Nagina will tell you leave your farm. I do not wish for another blood bath.”


He really brings that up.


You swallow hard, while asking yourself if this is a threat or a peace offer. It might be a weather forecast as well, warning of heavy Force storms ahead.


Your foster daughter does not know that Sheev confessed to you what he did on-board the Palpatine family yacht. It is a secret between the two of you. You never even shared it with your husband. A promise is a promise.


Sheev rescued the five year old Nagina from the claws of his own father Cosinga. Something he was not able to do two standard years earlier. He did it his way, messy and brutal. The horror had left her soul marked. No child should watch the wrath of a Sith lord. And certainly not if he is the only one alive who is dear to her.


“Please, Sheev!” you say in a low voice. “Nagina loves you more than her own life.”


“Don't you think I am aware of that?” he snaps.


“Orson cannot be a substitute for you, even though you two share many character traits. This might not end well for her.”


Your former neighbour boy, now a well-esteemed engineer and high ranking Imperial officer, might be a charmer. But you witnessed many of his childhood tantrums. You even saw how he shot down the family dog for a test of his self-built laser gun. To know that he is the one looking after Nagina, his former babysitter, causes you sleepless nights.


“Consider your request noted, Gita!”


You are aware that Sheev will hang up on you any time now. He has had enough of your interference.


There is a strange noise in the background. It is half-mechanical, half-human. Your father once had an artificial lung like that.


“My new apprentice has arrived and I better take care of him now,” he informs you crisply.


Another Sith lord in the making. This is bad news for Nagina and the rest of the known galaxy. You wonder if she knows about him yet. Maul, Dooku, she had faced them all in her own brave way.


“Thanks for listening to my concerns,” you offer, not adding the description 'motherly'. Not around a second Sith.


There is no answer from Sheev. He cannot afford one in the presence of his disciple. You are fully aware of that.


In order to understand the family background of Nagina you have read many scriptures on the Sith order. It was a fact that they knew nothing about good child care at all. It is a miracle that your foster daughter is still alive.


The HoloNet connection ends.


Outside, you can hear the children call Mara's name over and over again.


You reach deep into the pocket of your apron. There it is, the data chip that one of her new Lothal neighbours – a kind Ithorian – sent you.


“Hi mom! Hi dad!”


Nagina beams into the camera, but you can see behind that smile. You always could.


“Imagine, Orson is here! Sheev send him. We are going to Scarif for a little holiday before the new kindergarten year starts. I will not be reachable for two weeks, but do not worry. I will be fine. Give Mara and the others my love. Bye!”


Your fingers cramp around the little device.


There are so many things you do not know.


Besides, you have severe difficulties trusting Sheev with keeping Nagina safe, Emperor or not. And you trust ever ambitious and erratic Orson even less.


You hear laughter from outside.


Little Mara has joined her foster siblings again.


“Hope,” you mumble to nobody in particular.


You still have hope that Nagina will be safe from Orson's temper. Safe from the Sith apprentice. Safe from all the enemies that her uncle has undoubtedly made.


“There is always a new hope,” you say and decide to join your protégés outside.


After having faced the mummy-like appearance of Sheev Cosinga Aurelius Palpatine you need to feel the sun on your skin, want the wind to play with your hair. You leave your bedroom and walk downstairs.


The future is wide open still.


Sources:
A song by David Bowie (8 January 1947 – 10 January 2016) for the identically named anti-war movie "When the wind blows" (1986)
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

Another vignette, edited by DarthUncle, that you have time to recover, my dear Kahara.


Title: “Hideout”, a Nagina vignette

Author: AzureAngel2

Co-Author and editor:@DarthUncle

Time frame: The story takes place 56 BBY.

Summary: A little girl is left on her own for a couple of weeks, because a Sith lord has better things to do than babysitting.


Disclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company


Voices on the staircase
Toys in the attic are
Calling from the rafters
Ghost of a sigh
Pretty painted faces
Ride on the rocking horse
Memories of shadow
Dreams never die

I could fly if I wanted to
I could reach for the sky
We can swim like the dolphins and...
We can laugh' till we cry

But there's nothing to say
Dolls made of clay
We can play all day
Toys in the attic…

Sneaking up the staircase
Toys in the attic are
Waiting for me
Eyes in the dark
Looking for my marbles
Bats in the belfry and
I hear music start to play
This will be my happy home
And I'll never be alone
We will swim beneath the trees
All my happy friends and me

Hush baby, don't you cry
Cheer up and dry your eyes
Come join the happy games
Toys in the attic…

Frolicking in frenzy
Toys in the attic are
Dancing crazy
Whirling around
Spinning through the cobwebs
Bone and lace twirl in time
As the clock dissects the rhyme

And I could fly if I wanted to
I could reach for the sky
We can swim like the dolphins and
We can laugh' till we cry

But there's nothing to say
Hush baby, don't you cry
Dolls made of clay
Cheer up and dry your eyes
We can play all day
Come join the happy games

Toys in the attic…
Hush baby, don't you cry
Cheer up and dry your eyes
Come join the happy games
Toys in the attic…

Toys in the attic...(3x)

* lyrics of the song “Toys in the attic” by the neonceltic pagan folk band OMNIA (2014)*


A ray of light filters through the attic window. When you gaze up, you see dust flakes dancing around like little fairies.


You press your favourite soft toy – a tusk cat – closer to your chest.


Nobody ever comes up here, your uncle has told you. Crates and boxes are stored on this attic, containing things his family does not need any longer.


But before leaving, Sheev assured you that you are loved and cared for. You believe him. There has been nothing but love in his blue eyes. Sometimes they are yellow and blood-lined, but that usually happens when he is upset about his father, who happens to be your grandfather. For you he has only words of encouragement, praise and comfort.


Ever since Mommy is gone your uncle takes care of you. Which is not an easy task for him. He is not married, does not trust any one with your well-being. You are one of his secrets, his special treasure.


From the fairy tales that Sheev has read to you, you know that treasures are bound to be hidden. In strong chests, in secret locations. So you try not to mind.


Together you checked this place for night spiders and their cousin, the Poison Spitter. It is safe here.


Then, your uncle told you that this was a big adventure and that you need to be brave for him. You love him very much and want him to be proud of you. So you will not be a cry baby. You can handle it. The loneliness, the silence and, most of all, the darkness at night.


Sheev always proclaims that darkness is patient, but you have found out by now that the light comes back every morning. And even at night time, there are the stars and the moons of Naboo.


“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me,” you whisper into the big, crowded space around you.


You never raise your voice when it is not safe. Mommy was the first to teach you that. Walls have ears here at Convergence, the House Palpatine family estate. The same goes for the boat house and the hunting lodge.


Before your stay in this attic your uncle went through a little list of rules with you. Rules which you will follow without questioning. You remember what Mommy looked like after Grandfather Cosinga had crushed her head with a fireplace poker. Just for displeasing him.


You walk towards the chemical toilet. There is enough toilet paper and you can clean yourself. You are a quick learner. It is more than a year ago that you needed a nappy.


As for your hair, it does not need washing. Your uncle shaved it off, just to be on the safe side. You are supposed to be in mourning for Mommy anyway.


Of course you miss your hair and it is somewhat cold without it, but you will never tell Sheev. He would be upset and you do not want that. There are so many other things that he has to worry about. Being a politician and a Sith lord at the same time consumes most of his focus.


The Sith are something like the dark brothers of the Jedi order. He calls it a family feud. Due to Grandfather Cosinga you understand the meaning of that word. Happy families seem rare in this universe.


You sit down in front of the crate that contains your rations. Your uncle has been more than generous with your food, you are aware of that. You could easily last up here for eight weeks. There are fruits, vegetables, nutrition bars and liquid food. You dislike the latter, but you will be able to go to bed with a full belly.


There is also enough water for you to wash and to drink.


You hug your miniature tusk cat.


Sheev assured you that there will be a time when you can walk freely under Naboo's sky. Where hiding from Grandfather Cosinga or your uncle's dark master, Darth Plagueis, will not be necessary any more. Sheev will build a universe, that will be much kinder to you.


That is something to look forward to, but you are aware that it will take a long time. Even though he is something of a wizard with all his special powers.


Right now his greatest enemy is Child Care Services. The case officers are government officials. On them your uncle will not be able to work any mind trick; and certainly not his Force lightening, not if he wants to keep you with him.


Naboo are too righteous, he complained to you. For them it is not normal when a grown-up man hides a little girl in an attic chamber and keeps her from official records altogether. They will draw the wrong conclusions and take you away from him. This has to be avoided at all costs.


You give your surroundings a winning smile. This is your kingdom now, isolated, but agreeable. You will be the queen for the next two weeks.


As a Naboo girl you know about the all the queens and kings that reigned in the past. All of them got elected by the people. This is a democracy.


In Sith legends the main characters take crowns that do not belong to them. Your hope is that Sheev, despite being a Sith, will be a wise ruler, should his plans ever come true.


He has explained to you how power corrupts. From your point of view the dark side of the Force does, but he keeps himself busy with it. He has the need to fix his life. Many bad things happened in his past. You wish your love would be enough to make him content, but it does not. He wants more than hugs, fairy tales and smiles. Things you cannot give to him.


You walk to the hatch, which your uncle did not only secure with a lock, but also with Sith spells. Anybody trying to get up here will either forget about entering the attic before doing so, or feel sick enough to be forced to give up.


Such dark magic makes you uncomfortable. The fairies in your children stories have golden, glittering dust and hail to the light only. Dark thoughts and deeds are unknown to them.


With a sigh you turn to the wooden box that is going to be your bed during your stay. Under your pillow, Sheev has hidden binoculars and a flimsi foil on which he painted a heart. You find that cute.


Two weeks without your uncle. To be honest you have no idea how long that is going to be. You have to count double, he has told you. One time until ten and the second time until four. He has given you a marker to use every day at dusk.


The tusk-cat is soft under your chin. You would rather be in his arms and have him tell you a story. But he can't be here, and so you have to be your own story teller.


You take the binoculars and hang them round your neck.


Then you climb the ladder next to the attic window and gaze into the Lake District.


From up here you can see Varikino, the holiday retreat of the Naberrie family. You have heard that they have a girl named Sola about your age. Carefully, you scan the grounds.


There she is, sitting on a picnic blanket with a lot of dolls and fluffy plush animals. She has brown long hair like you used to have until yesterday. Her dress is wonderful and ornamented with flowers. It would be nice to be her friend. She has kind eyes. Like Jobal, her mother.


A single tear leaks out of your eye. Quickly, you wipe it away with your right sleeve.


You can not be with the Naberrie girl out in the open. Grandfather Cosinga would beat the life out of you. Like he did with Mommy.


Gran never married Grandfather Cosinga. Why that is you do not understand. But they had Mommy together, shortly before Sheev was born by his own mother.


Gran hid Mommy for a while like you are hidden right now. But it did not work.


Neither Mommy nor Sheev wanted to tell you what happened to Gran. You can can guess it was not something nice. Otherwise she would still be around.


Grandfather Cosinga is not nice man. He likes using others like rag dolls. If life was a fairytale he would be a mean ogre. He treats his dogs like pampered children, his family like property and his household staff like slaves. Nobody dares to oppose him openly.


Sheev plans to give Grandfather Cosinga a 'phenomenal departure' into the Netherworld. For all the old man ever did to him. And to Mommy, his half-sister.


The world 'half-sister' sounds odd to you. Because Mommy had never been a person cut in half. Yet the last time you ever saw her, she had been broken.


In Sola Naberrie's life everything is in order. She has a mother and a father who love her very much, as far can you tell. But you are not jealous or outraged. It is good to know that other people lead normal lives.


If more people on Naboo would be as broken as Sheev, and as Mommy at the end of her life, the universe would be a bleak place.


You cannot afford to be bleak. You have to be your uncle's little sunshine. He needs to know that some things in life are wonderful. That they do not need the powers of the dark side to be or become true.


You climb down the ladder and walk towards your box, dragging the tusk-cat behind you.


Two weeks.


You will try to learn the letters Sheev asked you to learn in the meantime.


Books, scrolls and data pads are a doorway into other worlds. If you can teach yourself how to read than you need no picnic blanket to share with Sola Naberrie. And you will not need the dark side.


Sources:
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

These are fantastic, Azure! I really like that we got to see what one of Nagina's foster parents thinks of the whole situation, first with Nagina and then Mara. They really ended up between a rock and a hard place. Knowing Legends, I fear for their safety. But I can also see a lot of where Gita's example has given her foster daughter a north star to steer by; their devotion to the welfare of others and faith in the possibility of a better future are shared characteristics. (Though Nagina had some personality traits leaning in that direction to begin with, as we see in the second short story.)

 

Thanks, dear Kahara. I am glad that you like my two vignettes.

Actually Chyntuck with her additional background stories for her OCs Asheya and Eliskandro inspired me to do some small projects.

DarthUncle recently teased me about my eagerness to explain as much as I can in a text, which results in Chapters that are between 16 and 18 DINA4 pages long. He also does not mind to beta the vignettes.

I wonder what earlybird-obi-wan will think of them once she is settled down in her new home & has a working internet connection again.

The first vignette about Gita Anil was written, because some word magicians like Briannakin in "Somewhere in the Skies" or JadeLotus with "Turn you face to the sun", showed us in their fan fiction how connected a foster parent (= Bail) or somebody devoted himself as secret guardian angel (= Obi-Wan/ Ben) can be.

The second vignette is devoted to all neglected children, whom I met the past 22 years in my pedagogical field of work. Especially during a internship in an orphanage that lasted 6 months. As a Sith lord in the making Sheev Palpatine fails to see what his little niece truly needs: time & devotion. With just unnatural powers you cannot raise a child.

Having written thus about Darth Sidious, I was forced to write a 3rd vignette, which perhaps Sith fans might like:



Title:“Wuthering grass”, a Nagina vignette


Author: AzureAngel2


Co-Author and editor:@DarthUncle


Time frame: The story takes place 59 BBY.


Summary: On a bright summer's day a powerful Sith lord is faced with the miracle of birth. He not aware of it yet, but this event will trigger in him the wish to create life itself with Sith alchemy and unnatural magic.


Disclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company



With every waking breath I breathe

I see what life has dealt to me
With every sadness I deny
I feel a chance inside me die
Give me a taste of something new
To touch to hold to pull me through
Send me a guiding light that shines
Across this darkened life of mine
Breathe some soul in me
Breathe your gift of love to me

Breathe life to lay 'fore me
Breathe to make me breathe
For every man who built a home
A paper promise for his own
He fights against an open flow
Of lies and failures, we all know
To those who have and who have not
How can you live with what you've got?
Give me a touch of something sure
I could be happy evermore
Breathe some soul in me
Breathe your gift of love to me
Breathe life to lay 'fore me
To see to make me breathe
Breathe your honesty
Breathe your innocence to me
Breathe your word and set me free
Breathe to make me breathe
This life prepares the strangest things
The dreams we dream of what life brings
The highest highs can turn around
To sow love's seeds on stony ground
Breathe
Breathe
Breathe some soul in me
Breathe your gift of love to me
Breathe life to lay 'fore me
To see to make me breathe
Breathe your honesty
Breathe your innocence to me
Breathe your word and set me free
Breathe to make me breathe

* the lyrics of the song “Breathe” by Midge Ure (1996 )



The child is ridiculously small. You expected it to be bigger, more impressive. It sure is no Sith warrior clad in armour, ready to serve your bidding. It is just a baby girl. And she is covered in blood and the remains of the amniotic sack. Remains that stick to her skull like a cap.

The fingers of your right hand wander over the tiny head, while you hold the neck in a safe grip.

A skullcap.

You remember that word from a fairytale that the nanny once read to your younger brothers and sisters. It had been about an evil king who was foretold that he would be destroyed by a child born under a lucky star.

You smirk, your eyes narrowing.

From your experience there is no such thing as a lucky star. Man forges his own destiny. And you are busy doing just that.

Even before your Master came along and took you on as his disciple, you had shown great interest in the ways of the Sith. Their knowledge is the key to turn you into the most important being in this galaxy. In the end you will be the master of them all.

Today though you take a break from all that scheming and constructing.

Carefully, you start cleaning the baby, who does not mind the warm summer breeze on her naked skin. Or the wuthering grass sea around her. She seems quite happy and contend. And, on top of all, she blindly trusts you. Which is a stupid thing to do. You are sorrow. You are seething hate.

To be honest to yourself, you prepared for this delivery, even though you are not the father. You are just the child's uncle. But this should have not been a reason for you to take responsibility. This is the first time in your life that you want to do something unselfish, something kind. You expect nothing from it, but while you hold the girl you are already given so much back.

Strange, unknown emotions stir in you, making you hope that they are just temporary and do not divert your course, which is set so firmly towards the ultimate success.

You look around, even scan the surroundings with the Force. But there is just you, the mother and the new born.

This area of the Lake Country is sparsely inhabited.

Nobody will know, nobody must know.

You risk a lot here, but you consider it a payback for old Cosinga, the man you should call 'father'.

A mean smirk appears on your lips at the very thought of the overweight patriarch, who considers himself to be in charge still. He is very wrong about a lot of things.

You continue to clean the blood covered baby body thoroughly, nurse the point where you had to cut of the umbilical cord.

The girl has blue eyes like all new born, but you are sure that her eye colour will gradually change. Medical reports and other scientific resources told you they will. You cannot wait to see the end result with your own eyes.

Normally, you are more patient. As a Sith you have to be. You and your Master have great plans for the Republic and their guardians, the Jedi Order. Haste will cause you sloppiness. Sloppiness might destroy the on-going processes. You have learned that revenge is a dish that is best served cold.

This is why old Cosinga is still alive. When you were seventeen there was a moment, where you had been close to rip him apart with your dark powers. You could have slaughtered the rest of your useless, overbearing family, too. But you have not done that either. Instead you have spent the past six years destroying their lives in more subtle ways, archiving the most satisfying results.

You were the only one able to leave Convergence and to get a little apartment in Theed. Your siblings on the other hand had to move back to your parents, some of them even bringing their off-spring with them.

From your own bitter experiences you know how old Cosinga deals with children. But you do not mind to pass the torch on to the next generations of House Palpatine. They will be the last anyway.

You gaze down on your niece and continue to cradle her in your arms, even though this makes your Sith robe dirty. Why you have to wear it in day light you do not know. Somehow you felt saver putting it on, before smuggling Mandré and her huge bulk of a belly outside. The two of you met at the edge of the property. Once inside your speeder you told her to lie down flat and put a blanket over her. Then you started the engines and left the property as quickly as you could.

The emergency pack for the actual birth had been stored in the trunk weeks ago. You did your maths, as always.

Your half-sister, Mandré, looks up to you, her features worn from all the recent efforts. Somehow you are somewhat proud of her going through with the procedure without much complaint. Under the harsh regiment of old Cosinga she learned to be silent. A skill that you too appreciate.

“Sheev,” she breathes your name.

You are aware of what she is about to ask you. Since day one in the herb garden you thought of it very hard. “I would be very cruel to deny my niece her name, wouldn't I?” you consider.

Mandré does not complain or argue in any way, just gazes at you in the same calm manner that she always does.

You are aware that you have no choice but to keep your word. Especially now that you hold this little bundle of flesh and bones pressed against your chest.

As a tradition-loving Naboo man you cannot ask her who the father is. And you have no reason to squeeze the secret out of her as a Sith lord.

You scan the face of your niece. Her father can be everybody on the family estate: the gardener's son, the sous-chef de cuisine, the first footman. The list is endless. In the end you do not need the name of the man who sired her, perhaps you do not even want to know. You are here in his place and will recognize her arrival into the universe. As is the custom.

You swore to yourself that it will be Anakin in case of a boy, which means 'warrior'.

But now that it is a girl, you will give her something nicer and more peaceful. If your Master ever hears about it, he will fry you both with Force lightening. The baby and you.

“Nagina,” you decide. “It means 'pearl' in some regions of this galaxy and 'star' in others.”

“Thank you!”

Mandré closes her eyes, grateful and tired. Of course you have seen to her as well. You cannot have your half-sister bleed to death on a meadow, close to the most sacred river of Naboo. That you are a Sith does not mean that you are devious all the time. Not when it does not suit you. Not today on this exceptionally bright Naboo summer day. Not in front of your niece.

You kiss Nagina on her brow. She gurgles happily.

Soon enough she will learn the hard way what it means to be loved by a Sith, leave alone to be raised by one.


Sources:

The Russian fairytale "The Luck Child", as once seen in episode 3 of the children TV series "The Storyteller" (1988) by Jim Hendson

The novel "Star Wars: Darth Plagueis" by James Luceno (2012)

Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki

Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

I think that because he's so different from your usual characters, it was difficult to find Sheev's voice initially - but I think after some prodding you found him. Nice to know this relatively sweet moment in his live begets a Vader figure

 

Thanks that you are also willing to beta a forth vignette that came up, because Kahara challenged me nicely to add something for the
The Celtic Song Challenge|Twenty Songs of Love, Murder, and Rebellion to Inspire You

done by Pandora.

When it is about my OC Nagina you can expect love in abundance, some unfortunate murder committed somewhere by her uncle´s Sith empire and, because she is a kindergarten teacher with principals, there will be some rebellion.

 

Well, looking forward to it.

Spoiler: Custom Closed, Custom Open

... and I gained a new appreciation for Orson Krennic through helping you perfect his thinking, thinking of all we glimpsed of him from Catalyst, and Rogue One, the movie. What a perfect **s, I somehow like how much of an ambitious mean streak he tries to hide from Nagina. Sorry for the spoiler

 

DarthUncle, you great spoil sport, but even greater husband and quick beta!

Here it comes now, I am so excited that I am hyperventilating.

Normally, I am not a person who loves group activities that overly much. (Must be a German thing... )

But due to you, person that I married, I started Yoga classes and going to the local SW dinner.

Okay, this story got an extra thread because I continued it!


Title:“Down in the willow garden”, a Nagina vignette for the Celtic challenge on the JC boards

Author: AzureAngel2

Co-Author and editor:@DarthUncle

Story 1: “The river picnic”

Time frame of Story 1: The story takes place about 2 weeks after the events of RotS (19 BBY).

Planet of choice: Chandrila

Summary: An Imperial officer marches along a Chandrilan river, a picnic basket in one hand and a blanket rolled up under one of his arms. His former babysitter girl, the secret niece of his Emperor, is with him. He has some murderous thoughts in his mind.

Disclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company



You pass by willow trees and many public gardens on your way down to Lake Sah'ot. Oh shavit! You did not mean to return to Chandrila. The past is the past and that's about it.

But with Ina things are always different. Not because she is the Emperor's secret niece, his only living relative. That does not count for you. The two of you go way back.

When your own mother, some eco freak from Laxrul, was overtaxed with you, Ina volunteered to come over and to babysit you occasionally. And suddenly, you had an audience. Somebody to realize your genius, your potential. Without her you would have been stuck between a hard place and a rock.

Ina helped you to enrol at the Future Program on Brentaal, even though you let her down three years earlier. You were sulking when she had to leave for her university studies on Alderaan. But despite ignoring her HoloNet calls and destroying her messages unread, she kept fighting for you.

And then you let her down again, when you managed to get kicked out of the program for a while, due to your 'nocturnal carousing' and partying. As if having fun once in a while would have stopped you from being brilliant.

The divorce of your parents made things even worse. The fact that you were not eighteen yet, helped your mother get custody over you.

Being stuck in the Outer Rim again, on provincial Lexrul of all places, made you re-discover your love for music. With your rough, sexy voice and your guitar skills you had no problem to gather some people to form a band: 'Lost River'. Good can come from bad.

It was the Naboo crisis that brought clarity back to your life and, in honour of Ina's home planet, you joined the army which earned you the credits back to finish your exams on Brentaal.

From there it was a piece of cake, really. You rose to the fore in the Republic Corps of Engineers, as deserved. You dreams had finally come true for you. You were able to supervise large on-world projects. And then, finally, even deep space constructions.

There is no woman in your life, because you have had enough stupid chicks hanging around since your time as a lead singer. You are married to your work. And you are very much in love with 'Project Celestial Power', a true beauty.

The only female influence that you allow into your life is Ina. She is a sort of older sister for you. She's the only other person you would lie and even kill for. All to make her safe and protected.

That the Emperor assigned you as her protector is an honour. It will certainly propel you right to the top of the Imperial food chain. You might get the main price: full control over 'Project Celestial Power'. Tarkin will not like that, but he is a Wowser. Constantly, he is looking down on you. Just because he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and you are but a working class bloke, the son of biological fruit farmers.

You secretly scan Ina, while you walk right behind her down the river bank, holding on to the picnic basket. You do not mind carrying it for her. The bottle of wine is actually quite heavy. It is one of the little treasures the Emperor left behind on Scarif and somehow it feels right drinking it only with her.

Hopefully, Ina will not get as tipsy and annoying as she did during your short beach holiday. Some folk in this galaxy have too big a conscience. For some reason she feels guilty about the death of her former queen, Padmé Amidala. She thinks that it should have been her duty to talk her uncle out of his master plan: the annihilation of the Republic and the founding of the New Galactic Empire.

You tried to understand this nagging guilt of hers, but you failed. It is so illogical to be true blue to the Republic. Only a stable dictatorship under the rule of her uncle can bring back peace, order and stability to everybody. And the great technological marvels the Republic was too chicken to start. Why is she not able to see that? Like your old school chum Galen she is a dreadful pacifist. Her solutions might work on her kindie school, but will not for grown-ups. Violence and the very threat of it are the only chance to get people back in line.

Your eyes drill into her back like a saber.

Why can't she be more open to your views on the universe? You always obliged her when you were a boy.

At least you are relieved to have escaped the farm of her fosters, the Anils. The five children they care for at present are unnerving. You already have trouble dealing with Jyn, Galen's baby daughter. How are you supposed to survive an entire bunch of ankle biters?

But the worst part is Gita Anil. She is one of those women who see too much for their own good. Somehow she managed a talk with your old man, something that you have avoided for years.

Ina claps into her hands, not like the forty year old woman that she is, but like a dear little girl. “Look, Orson!”

And you do her the favour and gaze out to the crystal-clear waters of Lake Sah'ot.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” she beams.

It would be a good place for a hydro-dam. Beautiful indeed. She's a great spotter.

Smiling, you set down the picnic basket and unroll the going-with-it blanket that you had jammed under your left arm. You sink down and pat on the ground next to you, hoping that she will stop dancing around and join you.

Panting and rather unceremoniously, Ina clonks down on the blanket.

Forgotten are all your earlier fights and discussions: on Lothal, on Scarif and on Jedha. She was always bad at being resentful. Her heart is as big as an ocean, containing so much love. Even for low-lives such as Boba Fett, Prince Xizor and the surviving Jedi traitors.

You uncork the wine bottle, pull her a glass that you take out of the picnic basket.

Ina scuttles a bit away from you, but only to lean against a willow tree. The sound that escapes her throat reminds you of that dreadful Loth-cat she now owns as a pet. But coming from her such a moan sounds cute, endearing.

“Sing me a song, Orson!” she begs.

You want to argue against that, but then you finish your own wine glass and find yourself fulfilling one of her wishes again.

Thinking hard on what to sing, your mind involuntarily wanders back to Lyra, Galen's wife. She's been an annoying speed bump in working with him.

Smiling, you start singing an old ballad.

“Down in the Willow garden

Where me and my love did meet
As we sat a-courtin'
My love fell off to sleep
I had a bottle of Burgundy wine
My love she did not know
So I poisoned that dear little girl
On the banks below

I drew a saber through her
It was a bloody knife
I threw her in the river
Which was a dreadful sign
My father often told me
That money would set me free
If I would murder that dear little girl
Whose name was Rose Connolly

My father sits at his cabin door
Wiping his tear-dimmed eyes
For his only son soon shall walk
To yonder scaffold high
My race is run, beneath the sun
The scaffold now waits for me
For I did murder that dear little girl
Whose name was Rose Connolly”

When the song dies on your lips, Ina raises an eyebrow. “A murder ballad?” she wonders.

Suddenly, you wish you had chosen something more cheerful. Something that fits better with the blue, careless sky above you. It feels as if you summoned something old and forbidden. Something you did not want to share with others. That part of you is not for Ina.

Before you can say anything she twitches her nose. “There is no need to murder me for my foster mom's apple crumble, Orson Callan Krennic.” She laughs and her green-gray eyes are alight with glee. “I am willing to share with you.”

You are relieved to hear that.

With amorous rapture you watch her cutting the tart.

Ina is an unusual person, but then again she had the most unusual upbringing by her uncle. No wonder that she ended up in Gita Anil's care at some point.

All in all you can be glad that you have her back after all these years of self-chosen radio silence. In order to keep her around and happy like today, you need to work hard. On your temper, on your trust issues. But it will be worthwhile.


Translation from the Chandrilan rural dialect into Basic:
Wowser = a person who seeks to deprive others of behaviour deemed to be immoral or “sinful”
bloke = man; fellow; guy
true blue = loyal or faithful;
staunchkindie = kindergarten
ankle biters = a toddler


Sources:
The song “Down in the willow garden”, the version of Loreena McKennitt
A bow to Ben Mendelsohn for staring the movie "Lost River"
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

About "The Future Is Wide Open" - I love this line:

 

Thanks, Cowgirl Jedi 1701.

Since I heard the word "Hope!" in the ROUGE ONE movie, I meant to use it for a fan fix of mine. And then "Into the great wide open" by Tom Petty was playing on the radio when my husband DarthUncle and I were in the kitchen, cooking.

Somehow it all started to mix with the challenge that Kahara suggested me to do... et voilá, here we are now.

 

Regarding “Down in the willow garden” -- oh Orson Krennic no!

"Let me sing you a ballad about murder picnics by the river, since that's our outing for the day!" This guy's subconscious, and really his conscious too, is a disturbing place.

So much creepy, Orson. Just no.

Great use of the Celtic song prompt; you definitely picked exactly the kind of obsessive character that one might expect to have some resonance with those themes.

 

"Down in the willow garden": What an interesting look at what a younger Orson Krennic might be like! I enjoyed him quite a bit in Rogue One (a mad-scientist-engineer-type villain is kind of a fresh new thing for SW). Lots of intriguing juxtapositions here: the two characters, and of course Orson's brooding inner darkness with his idyllic surroundings. This Orson still has enough light in him that he remembers and appreciates his babysitter of old with special fondess—and yet, at the same time, he's already started work on a certain "Celestial Power" project that we know all too well. And then you have the text of the ballad interwoven through all that, plus the diegetic appearance of the ballad in full as Orson's own song—the dark purpose that creeps out of him willy-nilly, even in the presence of his beloved nanny. If she picks up on something here (and her background would certainly make her capable of doing so), she very prudently doesn't show it—and thank the Force, all that gets "murdered" at this point in time is the apple crumble.

Also intriguing here is the second-person viewpoint, definitely something not encountered every day in fics—I wonder who we are to understand the speaker being here?

Thanks so much for sharing this and for being part of this challenge!

 

I was rather intrigued at the idea of Krennic as a singer in a band! I suppose mad, driven geniuses have rebellious childhoods, too. Hard to tell if their relationship is romantic or not; given the age difference. A nice interpretation, AzureAngel2.

 

Kahara: I already had an idea for that particular picnic... spoiler alert for Chapter 25, not written yet... but when this challenge came it developed even quicker.

And being a big fan of folk like Dexter, Norman Bates & Doctor Hannibal Lecter, I fell for Orson Krennic "naturellement".

Findswoman: Thanks for such a kind comment! As said before, I like interesting villains. Sometimes even under dogs like Krennic.

As for the unusual point of narrator´s view: some time ago I read a very unusable Vader fan fic in the adult section of Bast castle: "Agape’s Tale" by Eritae Halcyon. After that I always wanted to try out that kind of style, telling a fic in the 2nd person singular. With this thread I finally do.

Mistress_Renata: Ben Mendelsohn is a brilliant actor and cool singer, which he shows off in some of his movies. In a recent interview Mads Mikkelson also tells about him singing during the making of ROGUE ONE. So, I could NOT resist the band thing.

As for the age difference between Orson and Nagina: it is just 8 years.

Also thanks for reading and commenting!

 

*looks at username* still, I am really a nice guy, honestly!

 

Of course you are, DarthUncle which is why you just read the latest vignette and might beta it for me.

This is why you support me since there are heavy storms at work.

Why you took care of me the entire day when I was knocked down by the mother of all migraine attacks this morning and crawled out of bed in the late afternoon.

Thanks that you are around and force me to be a believer in myself, too.

Dexter would have given me a mercy kill IF I was guilty of a crime, but I am not.

With my brown hair I do not fit into Norman´s predator-prey system.

And the oven of Hannibal is too small to fit me in properly!

Anyway, here is another update for this thread which I almost posted here! Oh my, the possible problems with the mods there! But it is a useful thread if you need information for meanings of names in the SW universe.

And now the update based on a Celtic song of Heather Dale.

Today fanfic was a wonderful coping mechanism for somebody who was frozen in shock after an informal work meeting on Wednesday.

Anyway, here is my update:



Title: “Such a perfect day”, a Nagina vignette


Author: AzureAngel2


Co-Author and editor:@DarthUncle


Time frame: The story takes place 51 BBY on Chandrila.


Summary: A social pedagogue is deeply touched by the sweetness of his foster-daughter. Despite her young age she proves to be a true Naboo: alert for the needs of others and keen to help wherever she can. Her offer to babysit Orson Krennic, the baby boy of the neighbours, will not be an easy task. Gifted children demand a lot of attention and stimulation.


Disclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company


The wind blows low and mournful
Through the Strath of Dalnacreich
Where once there lived a woman
Who would a mother be
For twelve long years a good man's wife
but ne'er the cradle filled
A mother of a changeling child from 'neath the fairy hill
She travelled to the standing stones
And crossed into the green
Where all the host of elven folk
were dancing there unseen
Through the night she bargained
with the Queen of fairies all
who sent her home at dawning with a babe beneath her shawl
How their home was joyful
with a son to call their own
But soon they saw the years that passed
would never make him grow
The fairies would not answer her
The stones were dark and slept
A babe was all she asked for, and their promises they'd kept
The wind blows low and mournful
Through the Strath of Dalnacreich
Where once there lived a woman
Who would a mother be
For fifty years she rocked that babe
it's said she rocks him still
A mother of a changeling child from 'neath the fairy hill



The sky above Chandrila is very much like the Naboo one. It is an idyllic world, remaining temperate throughout the year. Gentle winters alternate with warm summers.


What you like most of all is the balmgrass, the main floral species of this planet. It is soft and pleasant to the touch. Like the fur of a tokken.


You have enough work to keep you occupied, a big family to worry about. Yet now and then you miss your home world. You long to see animals like ikopis, kaadus and nunas. Even slug-beetles now seem interesting.


Three years ago you were forced into exile by a man who has grown all too powerful in politics. A person so vile and rotten that it is a miracle nobody else smelled out about his darkness. He is an unstoppable phantom menace, a visitation.


You lean in the doorway of the veranda. The voices of the three children on the lawn mix with the intense talk that your wife is having with the neighbour from next door.


It is better to leave Gita to talk with Mistress Krennic. You can be rather hot headed when it is up to a child's welfare. Some adults can be so blind when it comes to the needs of their own kids, it is infuriating.


Besides, somebody needs to keep an eye on the children, with that fish pond around. You know you didn't put opee sea killers or sando aqua monsters in there, but you should be on the safe side. The danger of drowning for young children is ever present in and around the home. In the end it takes only a few inches of water and a moment of inattention to drown.


Your eyes wander towards your two current foster boys: Kalden Metok and Tashi Pemba. The ten year old and the thirteen year old, both from the Naboo village of Keren, go along very well.


There had been a third boy: Tenzin Samten. The sixteen year old is not with you any more, regrettably. He had to be sent to a juvenile detention home. Little Nagina Dorje, who recently turned eight, cried out her eyes when the law came for him.


You cannot help but smile while you gaze at the girl, who is just now being taught how to climb a tree. She is such a sweet and devoted person, always concerned about the underdogs and those who carry a heavy lot in life. The boys are stricken by her, worship the ground she treads on. Even rough and hostile Tenzin acted like a tame shaak around her. If only she had been with him on that fateful day at the farmer market, things would not have gotten out of hand. You are sure of that.


It is Nagina's talent that people around her want to show her the best they can offer. Even her uncle, the man who insisted you all go live here on Chandrila.


You sigh.


It had taken your wife a quite while to explain the concept and truth of a Sith lord to you. Usually, the Force does not cross your line of work very often. You are not as esoteric as Mistress Krennic or as faithful as Nagina, and the Jedi take on the Force sensitive kids.


Decades ago you left Theed university with a high grade for the theory and practice of holistic education and care, also known as social pedagogics.


You married your campus sweetheart Gita Choedon straight away, because she was a real keeper, and wanted you too. Both of you agreed to take in foster children under your roof instead of working for an orphanage or a children's village. Lufta Shif, your former mentor, congratulated you both with your choice.


Youth work professionals are always needed. In a galaxy that contains so many different races and cultures from thousands of planets people that can draw together theories and concepts from related disciplines such as sociology, psychology, education, philosophy, medical sciences, and social work are almost as unmissable as they themselves believe.


“... is some kind of freak, isn't he?” you hear an agitated voice through the closed living-room door. “Just be honest with me. There is something wrong with Orson. He was able to sit up by himself at four-and-a-half months and stood alone at seven months. Perhaps he is a changeling. From the fairy ford on Lexrul.”


Mistress Krennic understands more about folklore and organic fruit farming than about her own baby boy. She underestimates the impact that her harsh words can have on him. Ten months old or not, he is in that room with her and can perfectly hear her.


In dismay, you shake your head.


Little Orson shows most of the characteristics of giftedness in infants. As a social pedagogue, who did courses on highly gifted children in their early years, you know the signs he is sending out to the rest of the universe.


There is his extreme alertness, he is always looking around for new sensations. You would not describe him as sulky and arrogant as his mother does.


She is frustrated because nothing seems to work to get him to stop fussing and crying. The key to success is to provide him with stimulation. He craves it on a very high level.


Your theory is further supported by the fact that he began to mimic sounds earlier than other babies.


Besides, little Orson tends to be exceptionally sensitive to his surroundings: sounds, textures, smells and tastes. That makes him cry vigorously in response when he considers an experience too intense. Organic fruits suffers in silence, so you can understand a baby takes some getting used to.


Gita explained Mistress Krennic all those things over the past hour, but a wall of fear stops her from understanding more than half of the things your wife offered for consideration. She marks the boy with an unnecessary stigmata.


“Do you want to have him?” your neighbour shrieks. “I cannot bare to look at him any longer. He asks too much of me. My husband is also at the end of his wits with him.”


Some people should not have children together. That is a given fact, which constantly gets reinforced. Sadly the kids suffer for it.


Social pedagogy is based on humanistic values stressing human dignity, mutual respect, trust, unconditional appreciation, and equality, to mention but a few. It is underpinned by a fundamental concept of children, young people and adults as equal human beings with rich and extraordinary potential and considers them competent, resourceful and active agents. But that takes empathy and effort, which admittedly is a time sink many would like to fill otherwise.


How can Mistress Krennic claim that she is tired of Orson already? He has been a part of her life for such a short time. She barely knows him!


“Look at those dreadful vulture eyes he has? Always staring at me in dismay. He does not even like me.”


A birth is supposed to be one of the happiest times of a woman’s life. For Mistress Krennic the arrival of her son seems to cause only confusion, fear and stress. All these factors hint at PPD, postnatal depression.


You know a good neurologist with an extra diploma for therapy. She has an office nearby. But you wish you could do more for Orson. He needs more stability in life.


Suddenly, there is a movement near your elbow and something tucks at your sleeve.


Nagina can sneak around so silently that you sometimes get a great fright whenever she touches you. She never dares to speak up before you grant her permission. You could beat up Sheev Palpatine for her indoctrination, if he wouldn't fry you in his arrogance. Yet the fact remains, that he would have been better off as a Jedi, teaching his niece mind tricks.


“Yes, Nagina?” you encourage her and kneel down until you have reached her eye level to comfort her and signal your full attention.


“May I babysit Orson?” she asks, her grey-green eyes hopeful.


The little ones always hear more than adults think. There is a lot you could say about her idea, but you put it in her hands. She needs that, and Nagina might actually be really good for Orson. “Would you really like to?” you inquire softly.


She nods frantically. “Very much!” she beeps.


“Then we had better go into the living-room and make our proposal.”


The anxiety in her face hurts you a bit. She is always nervous about having the full attention of other people on her.


You pat her head.


Sometimes, Nagina sleeps in her closet instead of her bed. Mechanisms from a time where she had to hide from old Cosinga Palpatine, her maternal grandfather, and the staff of Convergence. She's only has half as odd as she has right to be, considering.


You knock at the living-room door and the voices inside die.


“Yes, please?” asks Gita.


“Nagina has a proposal to make,” you suggest while you open your door and hold on to the right shoulder of your foster daughter.


“I-a, I-a!” crows Orson from his baby stroller that his mother has put him in.


At the sight of the child Nagina lightens up as well. Within a few steps she is at his side, unbuckles him and picks him up. “He needs somebody to smile at him on a daily basis,” she explains with a calmness far beyond her real age. “I am sad that you are not able to do that at present, Mistress Krennic. There will be better times, I am sure of it. The Force will bring your happiness back. And while you heal, I would like to be there for Orson.”


The boy in question fists around in her brown, open hair, looking like some sort of oversized mynock. Frantically, his little mouth sucks at her throat.


“Please let me babysit him for a couple of hours every day! He needs to know that he is loved and cared for.”


It is an astonishing speech, causing Mistress Krennic to glare at Nagina in anger.


“What a fantastic offer!” you praise the girl and squeeze her shoulder gently, while your gaze moves on to your neighbour, all the while suppressing an inopportune laugh. “Dear Kelsa, this will give you the opportunity while you have therapy sessions with Doctor Drayson, don't you think?”


Your wife is quick to react, backing up the good cause further. “Agrippa does not need to worry about the payment. We both know that Chetan has two left hands when it is up to repair the machines.”


You grant Gita a lopsided grin for this revelation. “Actually, the lawnmower broke only yesterday.”



Before you can say anything more Nagina surprises you all once more. “Orson just pooped. May I clean him?”


And before his mother has the chance to react to that request, the girl already does her magic trick. Quick, loving and efficient, she changes Orson's nappy on a towel in front all of you.


While she cleans her fingers with a liquid hand sterilizer, Gita acts as Nagina's advocate once more. “Be reasonable, Kelsa! This selfless offer will give you the quality time that you need. And I can always support my daughter.”


Your wife never uses the foster term for your protégées. That creates a sense of belonging, of being home.


Mistress Krennic nods slowly. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps there is something wrong with me and not with Orson. Maybe I do need help.”


You are happy about such a good self-assessment.


Youth work should always be an aid for families in distress. It would have been better if Senator Palpatine would have been this insightful more than five years ago. Her past will always live on in Nagina. There is no excuse for what old Cosinga did to his grand-daughter nor for the failure of Sheev as an uncle. But she survived and is healing, and healing the world while doing so.


You watch Nagina fondle little Orson endearingly, see how the baby boy enjoys the attention and unlimited love.


This is a perfect day.



Sources:

The song "Changeling child" by Heather Dale
Wookieepedia - The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

DarthUncle: Thank you for not knocking me down, putting me into our blender and adding me to the spaghetti bolognese sauce. Instead you helped to beta, while I was flattering around the flat like some crazy convor (= Force owl?!?) and making sounds like Chopper.


Title:“Bright eyes”, a Nagina vignette


Author:AzureAngel2


Co-Author and editor:@DarthUncle


Time frame: The story takes place 17 days after the events of RotS (19 BBY) on Wobani.


Summary: A working camp prisoner, ready to die any day now, gets an unexpected visitor. Suddenly, there is a new hope, maybe. Even though his former foster sibling is accompanied by a dangerous imperial officer. Somebody named Krennic.


Disclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company


New blood joins this earth

And quickly he's subdued
Through constant pained disgrace
The young boy learns their rules

With time the child draws in

This whipping boy done wrong
Deprived of all his thoughts
The young man struggles on and on he's known
A vow unto his own
That never from this day

His will they'll take away
What I've felt
What I've known

Never shined through in what I've shown
Never be
Never see
Won't see what might have been


What I've felt
What I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown
Never free
Never me
So I dub the unforgiven

They dedicate their lives
To running all of his
He tries to please them all

This bitter man he is

Throughout his life the same
He's battled constantly
This fight he cannot win

A tired man they see no longer cares
The old man then prepares
To die regretfully

That old man here is me
What I've felt
What I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown

Never be
Never see

Won't see what might have been
What I've felt
What I've known

Never shined through in what I've shown
Never free
Never me
So I dub the unforgiven
Solo
What I've felt
What I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown
Never be
Never see
Won't see what might have been
What I've felt
What I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown
Never free
Never me
So I dub the unforgiven
Never free
Never me
So I dub the unforgiven
You labelled me
I'll label you
So I dub the unforgiven
Never free
Never me
So I dub the unforgiven
You labelled me
I'll label you
So I dub the unforgiven
Never free
Never me
So I dub thee unforgiven...



The guard on duty knew you were too weak to get up from your prison cot. So he called a mate. Together they dragged you to the ground. One of them rammed his blaster rifle against your head. One thrust was enough to give you a serious head wound.


The other guard kicked you into the abdomen several times. His metal boots caused further damage.


How long the abuse went on, you don't know. You lost consciousness several times. A bucket with slop brought you back each time. You wish it hadn't.


When the guards finally had enough of you, they left your cell without any comment. They went on with their duties as if nothing of great consequence had happened. The rest of your working crew was gathered for the shift without you.


In the days of the Republic there had been rights to protect even scum like you. Now that the New Galactic Empire runs the show, dark times have arisen.


Two weeks ago you were shipped to the Mid Rim, ending up here in the Wobani system. It's main planet houses the worst working camp ever. Desolation rules this place, alongside terror and total disregard for life.


You got stripped off your personal rights, your name. To them you are just a number in a sea of numbers. Just a tool like a shovel or a pickaxe.


This is why you lie here and silently bleed onto this floor. You ran out of utility altogether. To keep a broken tool is pointless.


No member of medical staff will be sent to check on you.


You have not gotten any food or drink since the day before, hours ago. Time has become irrelevant really.


They simply left you to die.


And die you will. Your entire body is but an open wound. Your skull might be badly fractured.


But the worst thing is that you start to long for things that you once took for granted. The warmth of the sun on your skin. The feel of fresh grass between your fingers, green and wet with morning dew. The company of people who really cared, even though they were just your assigned foster family.


You have not thought of Gita and Chetan Anil in ages. And today, of all days, you remember their kindness, their dedication to help you to better yourself. But you failed them.


Even worse, you failed little Nagina. That girl believed in you. With your sore head you try to sum up the years that have past since you saw her last. By now she must be a woman over forty already. Maybe with a husband and kids.


That you made it to fifty-six is a miracle. After all that you pulled.


Initially, Nagina wrote to you and you cherished every message of hers. Even though your own literacy is not very good for a Naboo. Luckily, you had others to read her words to you.


Later, when you ended up in a real prison instead of a juvenile institution, she could not reach you any longer. That did hurt.


You did not dare contact the Anil family or Nagina after your sentence had been served.


The Clone Wars had been a chance to have a fresh start, but you chose the wrong side.


Now that the end is near, you know that you screwed up. That all your appallingly bad choices lead you here. To Wobani, the point of no return.


The familiar sound of metal boots can be heard outside.


“Prisoner 1827, you have a visitor!” a masked prison guard barks at you through his comlink.


Practical jokes are not what you need right now. You do not count on sympathy or pity. But the guards should possess the decency to let you die in peace at last.


Through your swollen eyes you see three guards entering your cell.


Three, that is almost a military build up in resources and personnel.


You are not sure whether what you feel is a spark of hope, or a shimmer of a chance for a quick end to your misapplied life.


“Are you sure that this really is Tenzin Samten?” one guard grunts and you recognize him as 'the Enforcer'. The one who used your head for target practice earlier on.


“A certain Director Krennic asked for him,” his mate replies, whom you secretly name 'the Thumper' for his earlier dance performance on your belly.


“ISB?”


“He has their white gala uniform for sure. But what is even more striking, he has two death troopers in tow. I do not want them to assist us up here. Or do you?”


You have no clue who that director might be, but the name rings a bell somewhere. To hang on to a thought is difficult.


“The lady in the director's company explicitly said unharmed,” another voice, obviously the newcomer among them, remarks. “Let us get the med to stitch him up and give him something clean to wear. If Krennic is displeased, I fear he might ask his bodyguards to give us a little payback.”


Why do you have to think about apple trees, a crying baby and organic farming suddenly?


“Do you think that the lady is his wife?” wonders one of your earlier tormentors, 'the Thumper' perhaps. “Or even his mistress? She seems to be at least eight years older than him.”


“That is none of our business, Cal,” interrupts the newcomer. “Just get this unresponsive piece of bantha poodo up. It is dangerous to worry about the love life of a high ranking officer.”


Now you are able to make a connection in your mind.


The Krennics had been direct neighbours of your fosters. And Nagina had fallen in love with their baby boy at first sight, when his mother came back from a family visit on Lexrul. There she had given birth to that annoying bundle of screams and stench.


“Come on, Varian! You must ask yourself who she is,” presses 'the Thumper'.


“The fewer questions about this visit, the better!”


Two of the guards carry you out of your cell and through the full cell block. They could have used a stretcher, but of course they do not bother about it for you.


While you try to keep the contents of your stomach in, you are brought to the medical bay.


“And where do you think you are taking this corpse?” the med on duty asks incredulously and you are too weak to spit into his haggard face.


“Director Krennic wants to see this prisoner alive and well,” answers 'the Enforcer'.


“Who the kriff is Krennic?” the med explodes.


“Classified.”


“Is that so? What does he expect me to do? I am not a faith healer or miracle man.”


The helmet of 'the Enforcer' turns from his left and then to his right shoulder, as if he is listening to a command given to him via his com link. “You are my guest to discuss that with the Director himself and his attending death troopers. Actually, just as we speak, he asked me about our progress in finding the prisoner he's waiting for. What shall I answer?”


An uncomfortable silence settles inside the medical station.


Then the med hastens to give orders to his staff and fusses over your broken body.


It seems you that you just have been assigned to play the main role in some slushy HoloNet drama.


'The Enforcer' steps outside to justify the delay to Krennic.


Just one person in the entire galaxy can work a miracle like this: little Nagina Dorje.


A thick, gelatinous substance closes in around you, while you have to breathe through an oxygen mask.


Bacta. They waste the miracle of bacta healing on you. Boy, must you be special!


You do not care how little Nagina made this possible. Once you are out of this bacta tank, you will ask her forgiveness for having been such a failure, such an appallingly neglectful and selfish foster brother.


You close your eyes and ask yourself what she will look like. Whether she still has such bright eyes.




Sources:
The song “The Unforgiven” by Metallica
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

Interesting to read from the perspective of an OC that we only got to know thanks to a name and short mention in a previous vignette. Had to look up the song to listen to before reading on, good way to get into this guys head.
And also, a bit of a 'downstairs' feel, with the troopers, med. talking about Krennic, cool.

Were you partly inspired by Rogue One to do an imperial prison camp?

 

To be honest, DarthUncle, it is my current work situation. The tables have turned within such a short time. Everything is upside down due to a few people miscalculating very badly.

That makes me feel as hopeless as the inmate of a working camp. With no real power.

Now you know what triggered the last vignette and the next one is dedicated to the children that I work with every day, because they give me hope when I am around them. A sense of reality plus a focus on pedagogical duty.

Okay, I should mention the home situation is a bliss, too. Because I have you.

And since Wednesday I try to write my way back into another hope, basically.

Plus I give my best to fight my current insomnia because you need sleep, too.





Title:“The situation is under control”, a Nagina vignette


Author:AzureAngel2


Co-Author and editor:@DarthUncle


Time frame: The story takes place 2 days after the events of RotS (19 BBY).


Summary: The end of the Clone Wars turns the life of a lot of people upside down. There is a married couple who have suddenly been blessed with a baby girl. The orphan is the daughter of a fallen Jedi knight. Many questions rise about her future upbringing. The very person they would like to ask has vanished from Coruscant. She is a highly qualified kindergarten teacher and also an expert in early child development.


Disclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company


Words like violence
Break the silence
Come crashing in
Into my little world

Painful to me
Pierce right through me
Can't you understand
Oh my little girl

All I ever wanted
All I ever needed
Is here in my arms
Words are very unnecessary
They can only do harm

Vows are spoken
To be broken
Feelings are intense
Words are trivial

Pleasures remainSo does the pain
Words are meaningless
And forgettable

All I ever wanted
All I ever needed
Is here in my arms
Words are very unnecessaryThey can only do harm

Enjoy the silence


The baby's eyes are brown and trustful. They remind you so much of Padmé, who had been your colleague and friend for so many years. But the deceased had never been Force-sensitive.


“What will we do when she starts to levitate more objects around the room, Bail?”


Your wife seldom uses your name with such urgency. But now her cheeks are flushed. And her iris is reduced to pin-size.


“What if she takes too much pleasure in this? Starts to do pranks on the staff?”


Breha is right to ask those questions.


There had been whispers among the members of the Jedi order that General Skywalker, Leia's natural father, was 'the Chosen One'. They saw him as some kind of messiah who would bring back the balance to the Force. From your own experiences with him you know that he possessed the reputation of a prankster.


While your wife awaits your answer, your gaze wanders over to the cradle where the baby girl lies on her back and makes happy sounds. Her blanket hovers right above her in the air, lazily twisting and turning.


You have to be honest to Breha. “I do not know, but should the occasion arise, I am sure we will think of something.”


With a yawn, your wife sinks into the rocking chair. “There is no way to contact General Kenobi, is there?”


Mournfully, you shake your head.


Like Master Yoda, your old battle comrade that you got to know so well during your common mission on Zigoola, has gone into exile. You know better than troubling Kenobi with questions concerning the nurture and education of younglings.


The Jedi order used to have a crèche at the main temple on Coruscant, but you doubt very much that Kenobi is any better prepared to deal with Luke than you are with Leia.


Besides, in the vastness of Tatooine, incidents like flying blankets can be easily ignored. The Lars family has no neighbours for miles and miles. Here at court, even though you trust every member of your Alderaanian household, incidents like this will draw attention sooner or later.


Leia still gurgles, a big smile on her lips.


You step closer to the crib.


“What about Mistress Dorje?” Breha asks.


This is another hope that you have to crush.


“Nagina is the Emperor's niece.”


A frown appears on your wife's brow. “She would never betray us.”


“Not willingly, no.” Your hands close around the edge of the cradle and you smile down at Leia. “But I believe by now her uncle and she have a special mental connection to one another.”


The raised brow is still in position.


“The less Nagina knows about the existence of our daughter, the better,” you conclude.


But Breha is not finished with the subject yet. “Do you by any chance know where she is? I mean the entire coup must have also badly effected her.”


“I know from a trustful source that she was sent to Lothal on the morning the Republic collapsed. During the Battle above Coruscant her kindergarten building got destroyed by debris.”


Your wife snorts in disbelief. “That came in handy, I suppose. Perhaps Palpatine just let himself be kidnapped to destroy that building and all her happiness with it.”


“Not even he can be that mean,” you give to consider.


“Are you sure, hotspot?” Breha argues, her cheeks colouring even more.


You keep telling yourself that you are right in this case.


If anybody deserves some happiness in life than it is Mistress Dorje. By now your informants found out that her husband Barin, a Corellian merchant, died shortly after the Clone Wars broke out.


“Poor woman, to have a monster like this as her only living relative,” Breha sighs and stretches out her legs. She is barefoot and wiggles her toes.


You cannot help the smile that spreads over your bearded face. “Nagina has a very large foster family that dotes on her very much.”


Your wife looks considerate. “The power games of her uncle must cause her never-ending grief. During our last meeting it was very clear. Yet she was willing to give us valuable information.”


As a scion of House Alderaan it is essential for you to know that the Sith are back. That they were actually never gone. Hiding in plain sight for centuries, always a master and a student.


The thing that worries you more than a levitating baby blanket is the true identity of the new Sith apprentice. The Emperor must have quickly filled in the gap since the passing of Count Dooku. When Master Kenobi shared with you his findings in the destroyed Jedi temple, you started to have an idea who this person might be.


“Nagina has managed to stay alive for the past forty years, Breha,” you ensure your wife. “Strange as it sounds, Palpatine has genuine feelings for her and likes her best alive.”


It is wise not to contact the kindergarten teacher for a while though.


Leia has to be your foremost priority. Especially, when her biological father could turn up on your door step. You have to be prepared if that situation ever happens.


You reach down for Leia.


The blanket sails down to the floor unceremoniously.


Her brown eyes are fully focused on you now. There is nothing in them but love and trust. That is all that matters.





Sources:
The song “Enjoy the silence” by Deepech Mode
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

I like how you have the end of the vignette reflected in the first couplet of the song at the start.

 

busy busy busy, I see you have been very busy AzureAngel2. Today I am back on the forums because my brother has been very busy to getting the things working again after my move to my new home.

 

DarthUncle, thanks for noticing that, thanks for reading AND commenting, thanks for being a beta & a husband!

This all stops me from getting crazy at present, while fear & unease grips the rest of my kindergarten team. I could do with a little bit more sleep, true. But it helps to have distracting words in my mind, the keys of disappearing in a galaxy far, far away once the daily work is over and done.

I am grateful to have you around.

earlybird-obi-wan: As I said via PM already, there is no other choice but keeping myself busy with fanfic.


And here comes another one:




Title:“The visit”, a Nagina vignette


Author:AzureAngel2


Co-Author and editor:@DarthUncle


Time frame: The story takes place 31 BBY.


Planet of choice: Corellia


Summary: The dinner table is laid. A wonderful roast is in the oven. The wine had time to breathe. But suddenly there is something very wrong in the girlfriend department. Even a Corellian man sometimes has to realize that not all can be controlled.


Disclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company


I can read what's going through your mind

And I can see what you hide in your eyes
Yes I gonna pull a spell on you
Just to see exactly what you do
I'm a wizzard
And there is magic in the air
I'm a sinner
And my friend, you best beware
There is magic everywhere
Can you see the full moon in the sky
Time like water flows by till we die

Every moment wasted leaves its mark
Exiting sun leaves us standing in the dark
I'm a wizzard
And there is magic in the air
I'm a sinner
And my friend, you best beware
I'm a wizzard
And there is magic in the air
I'm a sinner
And my friend, you best beware
There is magic everywhere
You must forgive the noise you rushing fools
You have no time for natures natural school
They cannot see the lightness in their hands
Like mystik disappear across the land
I'm a wizzard
And there is magic in the air
I'm a sinner
And my friend, you best beware
I'm a wizzard
And there is magic in the air
I'm a capturer
And my friend, you best beware
There is magic everywhere
I'm a Wha-wha-wha-wha-wha-whawhawhawha-wizzard
I'm a Sci-sci-sci-sci-sci-scisciscisci-sinner
I'm a Wha-wha-wha-wha-wha-whawhawhawha-wizzard
I'm a Sci-sci-sci-sci-sci-scisciscisci-scinner
I'm a Wha-wha-wha-wha-wha-whawhawhawha-wizzard
I'm a Sci-sci-sci-sci-sci-scisciscisci-sinner
I'm Wizard,
I'm Wizard,
I'm Wizard,...


Your girl-friend is not only nervous, she is basically devastated. It is not the fact that she changed her outfit six times. During your dinner preparations she shattered a wine glass, almost turned the nerf-roast in the oven into a lump of coal and just now she locked herself into the bathroom.


You have been together for three months, but you never witnessed her in quite such an agony. Not even on the day she moved into your bachelor's pad and found a nest of your dirty socks under the sofa.


“Nagina?” you ask, putting a lot of emotion into saying her name.


Silence.


“Min larel ?” you try in Olys Corellisi. My love?


This endearment usually does the trick.


But not tonight.


You lean your large head against the door. “Bhesj!” you curse under your breath.


More action and bravery are apparently needed here. Normally not a problem for a Corellian man like you. But there is something in the ongoing silence in there which shreds your guts.


“We can give your uncle a rain check,” you carefully suggest through the thin metal door.


“No!” she yelps.


“We could meet him next week,” you try to bargain. “Or whenever you are ready.”


Retching sounds are an indication that Nagina is not reacting well.


“If you are not coming out, I am definitely coming in!” you decide, running for your toolbox.


Spaceships are your life. To maintain them, alter them, is a passion of yours. Nagina should thus already know that this door is no real barrier to you.


Offset wrench, sledge hammer, welding unit, hacksaw – you rumble through the cursed box for the right item.


You already have the metal-cutter in your hand, when she decides to open.


And she looks dramatically pitiful. Her eye liner, and she seldom uses it, has run down her cheeks in black torrents, giving her a likeness to a Dathomir Night Sister.


“Give us a hug!” you blithely say and pat the ground next to you.


When Nagina hesitates too long, you simply climb onto the dresser next to the bathroom door. You want to be on eye-level with her.


“Oh, Barin!” she wheezes and new tears come forth.


You reach out and draw her close to you. There is no resistance on her side, just profound helplessness. “What's up, baby? This is not about the clover we used for the nerf-roast, right?”


Nagina shakes her head.


“Is this about me?” you probe, even though it never bothered her before that you are just four foot and five inches.


Your assumption shocks her and she tries to step back, but you will not let her. Not now. You need to feel her heart beating against yours. Touch is essential for you both. Your grip on her tightens.


“Stars! What is wrong with you?”


Nagina bites her underlip and draws some blood. “My uncle,” she starts, her voice weak and hardly audible.


Then the comlink at the entrance door sounds.


“He is no rancor, I assume,” you try to joke.


“Barin, he is...” Her voice trails off and you can see that she wishes herself light years away from this flat.


You let go of her. “In front of our flat, yes. Definitely.” And you give her that lopsided winning smile that she loves so much. “Which means, I let him in and you wash your face.”


“Barin!” she begs, while you jump down the dresser.


“Hey, trust me, I have everything under control.”


Which is a lie, but you wink at her anyway.


“It is complicated,” Nagina starts again.


You reach up and tenderly squeeze her right bottom. “Family always is.”


Saying thus, you shortly think of your mother who quit on you and your father on the day that you were born. She just sneaked out of the hospital, still wearing her scrubs. But you are glad that she did. Your father and you had a fine life together, still have. You would not want that woman back for all the spice in Kessel's mines.


Determined, you shove Nagina back into the bathroom unit.


Then you run for the door and open it.


A hooded figure stands in front of the door. The face is hidden from view.


“Hokey religions are not my thing, my friend,” you let the stranger know. “And I have no need to be shown the light, or the equivalent truth your faith offers.”


Deep laughter comes forth from the stranger.


“Ol'val, min dul'skal, ahn guld domina,” you wish him in the language of your people. Clear skies and good luck, my friend.


Before you can close the door, a voice known to all of the galaxy answers you, “Very prudent, Barin my friend. But I am afraid you are mistaken in what I have to offer tonight.”


Dramatically, the stranger pulls off his hood with one hand. You look up to see Supreme Chancellor Palpatine offer you the quality wine he brought.


“Blossom wine from Naboo,” you state, wishing for something stronger.


He smiles down on you somewhat apologetic. “Nagina gets tipsy very easily.”


That you have already experienced and you loved her even more for it.


With a grin Palpatine produces a second bottle from the depths of his cloak. It is the famous 'Port in a Storm', a fortified, high-octane wine from Pamarthe. “Just for us,” he whispers confidentially. “But now, I am afraid we must ease my niece's suffering.”


You find that you quite like the mysterious uncle.



Sources:
The song “The wizzard” by Right Said Fred, featuring Doris Dubinsky aka Anke Engelke (2004)
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

Regarding "Down in the Willow Garden:"

I have not seen Rogue One, and so there are probably aspects of this story that have been lost on me. But if I read it just as a story, with the very few things I have picked up about the movie and Orson Krennic, I think I get it well enough. And I can say this: someone has a dark side. He's on a picnic next to a beautiful lake, on an equally beautiful day (and it's a telling description that the blue sky is "careless") with the one woman whose feelings he actually cares about--and he's moved to sing a particularly gruesome ballad as easily, as unconsciously as he swallows his spit.

Orson has proved himself, if he is the lead engineer on his beloved "Project Celestial Power," (and there is no need to guess what other name we know that as) but he has yet to feel secure. He has class issues (which I have heard are present in the movie) with the Grand Moff. He has mommy issues. He has daddy issues.

And he has only recently reunited with the woman he wants to be his ray of sunshine. His relationship with Nagina seems to exist in some sort of grey area: she isn't old enough to be his replacement mother, and while there is a hint of romance far below the surface, it remains there; and he won't ever want to be "just friends" with her. I don't know how things will go with them in the future, but I have a feeling that (thanks to the issues Orson knows he has) it could turn out very badly.

Luckily, the only murder in this story takes place in the ballad Orson sings.

Thank you for writing this for the challenge!