I feel like as Star Wars fans we are too accustomed to seeing “Jedi” as synonymous with “warrior” so I feel the need to remind everyone that Jedi becoming generals in the Clone Wars is as outlandish as putting defence attorneys and therapists in charge of World War III.
Shaak Ti is not the clones mother figure. I know it’s cute to think like that but she is simply a foil for the overseer on the plantation. She doesn’t truly care about them and sees them as property. She lets the Kaminoans do horrendous things to them. Shaak Ti is nothing better than a slave minder working to condition slaves from birth to do what the Republic tells them
“You’re not going to return me to Alderaan, are you.”
Leia spoke matter of factly, drawing her legs up to her chest. She did her best to keep the quiver out of her tone and be the adult she’d imagined herself to be. She was thirteen, desperate to prove to her father that she could hold her own against the Empire. Bail Organa and his wife, Queen Breha, had been wrapped up in Alderaan political duties - much to the dismay of the senate, and more-so Moff Tarkin.
In a spur of the moment, perhaps overly confident in her own abilities, Leia had offered herself up to go in their stead. As a negotiator of sorts, but mostly as a stand in senator. Many a time, she had been present through her legislature. She knew the bearings of the Coruscant hierarchy, knew how to socialize with the elite. Now, she was beginning to regret her decision; for fear of a possible trap. Using her as bait to snare her father.
“I am not.”
The voice was deep, grumbling and loud. Booming, bouncing between the durasteel walls like an echo. Devoid of any emotion, accompanied only by the steadfast breathing mechanism. Lord Vader wouldn’t even spare her a glance, his draped back turned towards her. Still, Leia dared not use the concealed vibroblade she kept in her boot for emergency purposes. He was wide open to her, with his guard deceivingly low in her presence.
Despite his eyes not being on her, she had a feeling that Vader could see her. That he would somehow be able to sense her attack, somehow be able to read her mind if she made any hasty moves. He towered above her in the semi darkness, dim hallway light spilling past his form and into the cell. For it was a cell, wasn’t it?
“I see,” Leia mumbled, mostly to herself.
“You are afraid, Princess.”
Vader stated the obvious, but Leia braced herself and refused to admit it aloud. She’d never once been afraid in Imperial company before, no matter the rank. No matter the chance of being outed as the daughter of one of the Rebel Alliance’s prime leaders. Outed as an accomplice of treason. An enemy of the Empire. No matter having been forced to politely dance with governor Tarkin, to converse with him in a civil manner. She tucked a strand of loose dark hair behind her ear, her messy braid coming undone. She was battered, bruised.
“It serves you good. The fear.”
Vader shifted, his slow steps foreboding in the cramped room; black cape trailing behind him as he crossed the small space. If she hadn’t known better, Leia would have said the man was uneasy. Nervous.
She shook the thought away. She knew all there was to know about Vader. Imperial reinforcer, the Emperor’s right hand man; the deaths of countless innocents on his conscience, blood on his hands. More machine than man. Leia knew she should be terrified; expect to meet a similar fate. She had heard of the man slaughtering women and children without hesitation. She couldn’t be sure, but from what she had seen of him, the rumours - she deduced it might as well be the truth. And yet; yet she sensed within this dark stranger some kind of… familiarity. And it left her cold.
“Do you wish to leave this holding cell?”
Leia’s head snapped up, brows furrowed in confusion; almost assuming she’d imagined the inquiry. The pregnant silence dragged on, making her skin crawl as she realized Vader was expecting some kind of answer. That he was being genuine. He had folded his arms across his chest, clearly impatient.
“Why… why would you ask me that?” she finally croaked, astonishment colouring the tone.
“You have been deceived, Princess.”
“Deceived. Caught within a nest of lies.”
The girl watched as Vader dropped his arms to his sides and clenched his gloved hands into tight fists, making her flinch and instinctively back up as far as possible. The back of her pristine, flimsy royal attire pressed against the wall; cool durasteel chilling her skin. A thought crossed her mind, making her wonder how many people had been in such close proximity to Vader for any prolonged time and lived to tell the tale.
“I don’t understand,” she simply said, eyes still fixed on his fists; wary.
“Of course not. We must speak. I’d like you to follow me,” said Vader, turning his helmeted head to - Leia guessed - glance towards the doorway. “You are not my prisoner.”
“Then what am I? Why am I here? What am I to you?”
“Come,” Vader interjected in a harsh, more demanding beckon - it was no request.
The questions remained unanswered, but the power of Vader’s command was enough to force Leia up on still wobbly legs. She swallowed hard, straightening her back to improve her posture. She wanted to give a dignified impression; wanted to show as much defiance as possible. Despite the torn back of her gown, exposing most of her pale shoulders. Despite the drying blood still staining her bottom lip crimson red. Despite the darkening bruises on her chin, her wrists.
Vader gestured with his arm towards the exit way, his broad frame looming over her as she followed behind his lead. Wordless, the girl limping ever so slightly as the bones in her straining ankles protested. That was the part she didn’t want to think about. She remembered falling, seemingly endlessly; hitting her head. She remembered the officers, her vision faltering; hands on her.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she blocked out the fuzzy memories. She refused to let anything affect her. When she’d finally regained consciousness, there was only the empty holding cell and Vader. A stiff, uncomfortable mattress beneath her, the sound of his respirator ringing in her ears.
The corridors were crisp white, lights bright and floors speckless. Vader’s breathing echoed through the solitary corridors; a constant sound accompanying his heavy foot fall. Leia did her best to keep up with his pace, willing the pain of her injuries away. Strangely, her most intimate spots didn’t seem harmed. Didn’t seem tarnished. Still, she sighed in relief when the man came to an abrupt halt. Willed herself not to think. He stepped aside, silent.
Another command, and despite wanting to remain proud, the princess gave in. She hobbled less gracefully than she’d have hoped over to a small settee. She appeared to be in an Imperial break room. Caf supplies lined along one wall, yet the emptiness made the air cold and stale and heavy. Oppressive. Control boards and monitors beeping periodically. Vader nodded as she settled down, pleased - but he remained standing near the doorway. Perhaps, he was guarding her, would she attempt to escape. Not that there was anywhere she could go, and he would know that. Then, the thought struck her that perhaps he was guarding her from somebody.
“Have the Queen and her Viceroy informed you of your biological heritage?”
That was unexpected.
Leia stared at the man, uncomfortable with the inability to read his eyes or his facial features concealed behind the mask. Unable to tell what his ambitions were. Leia had always known she was adopted, had always known how The Organas had been unable to conceive. Yet, she had always felt loved, always felt that they were her one and only family. She had been informed of her birth parents, but only in tidbits and small snippets. Her birth mother had been kind and strong willed, according to her father. They had been good friends. As for her birth father, she was left in the dark. She’d only asked once, without receiving any answers. Coming from Vader, the question was uncomfortable and far too intimate.
“Why would you–” she attempted to defend herself, clearly offended.
“Have they?” Vader interrupted, no courtesy offered.
Leia pursed her lips as she bit back another snappy retort; jaw set hard as she looked away. She felt his eyes on her, knew she was being monitored closely and she squirmed against her own will. Furrowed her brow, tried her best to cover herself up despite the tattered state of her outfit. Or, what remained of it. She shook her head.
“No, or, well… they told me my parents died, during the Clone Wars.”
That was mostly the truth, after all.
Leia gritted her teeth, watching Vader simply stand there like a statue with his arms slack at his sides; contemplating. Head held high, his defenses up. Impossible to penetrate.
“What does it matter to you?” she finally scoffed, unable to conceal the hurt of his insinuations or hold herself back.
The inquiry stung, Bail and Breha were her parents, nothing could change that - blood relation or not. Especially in this moment, she wished they were here with her. To comfort her, to patch her up again. Another - darker - side of her wanted to add punishing her assailants to the list. Surely, her father would have if she’d made the request.
“I have already informed you, Princess. You have been deceived, as have I.”
“Is this why you won’t take me back to Alderaan? Because my parents aren’t my birth parents? Where’s the deception in that? Everyone knows I’m adopted.”
Leia’s anxiety grew then, the fear of harm befalling her parents. The fear of being used against them for some scheme, the fear of her being kidnapped as leverage. She had no idea what Vader was planning. Yet, she kept her facade as well as she could; kept her expression blank expect for the fire burning in her dark eyes. She should suspect the worst, but she couldn’t.
Deep down, she knew there was only one way she had come out of the assault mostly unharmed. There was only one person who might have saved her, the same man who had brought her onboard the star cruiser. The man in black by her side.
“Yes, and no. Have you ever found yourself in pursuit of the knowledge of your true heritage?”
“I–” she wanted to protest, to tell Vader she had never been curious.
But it’d be a lie.
Leia had always wondered. She loved her parents dearly, she couldn’t imagine ever replacing them. Still, she wanted to know. Her parents had promised that one day it would be revealed, the full story and not just small bits and pieces regarding her mother; her powerful presence, her wit.
The urge to unveil the information burned in her, made her ache for the answers. Vader couldn’t possibly know more than she, and yet something in the way he spoke made her insecure.
What if he did know? What if he had been the one to execute her parents? What if he knew all about their identities? What if he knew who her father was, what if he would share? She knew he would be wise to trick her, and she would be wise not to believe one word he spoke. But something was screaming at her to seize the opportunity, and to use the situation to her advantage.
“Yes,” she finally admitted, “Papa says the truth will all be revealed one day, when I’m old enough.”
Vader seemed to shift, his head turning towards her. The masked black tar pits of his eye-lenses bearing down on her. Once again, Leia felt the weight of his scrutiny; the ice cold aura he was exuding giving her goosebumps and chills. It was if the air was getting thicker, difficult to breathe.
“It was long ago revealed to me that senator Amidala had passed, at the hand of the man who loved her the most. It was told that she and her unborn child were lost. A despicable half truth, it appears.”
Leia noted Vader curling his hands into tight fists again, even as she tried to make sense of everything. Still, it didn’t take the girl long to understand. On some level, it was all so clear, laid bare. She knew Vader was known manipulate, all for his own gain. Was known to bend the truth to his will, when necessary. Yet, something about the statement, the revelation, resonated within her.
Padmé Amidala. Padmé. The mere name made her feel warm, fuzzy; loved. A bond she’d never been aware existed. She knew in that moment that Padmé must be her mother; knew what the woman had achieved during her lifetime. Knew she had been one of the most proficient women in the Galaxy before the rise of the Empire. She had been a close friend of Bail Organa. It all seemed to obvious.
“Padmé was my mother,” she breathed, mouthing the syllables silently one more time for herself; as a confirmation of sorts. “Wasn’t she?”
“You knew her. When she was alive, you knew her.”
Vader remained silent, an unspoken affirmation it seemed. Swallowing hard, Leia’s mouth felt dry and woollen. She should be having a stronger reaction, on top of the previous trauma, but something soothed her. It was as if deep down, she’d always been aware, and she’d only needed it be confirmed.
She understood now so clearly why her parents had spoken so often, in such high regard, of Padmé Amidala. It was all so clear. They had never spoken of a husband, never of Padmé’s personal intimate relationships. Never brought up a name that might fill in the blank as to who was Leia’s biological father.
“What… about my father? Did you know him, too?”
Leia hesitated to ask, feeling a sudden shift in the atmosphere; Vader’s mood changing. A sinking feeling came over her, creeping into her core; crawling underneath her skin. Prickling like a thousand needle pinpoints, making her curl up into a ball and shudder; aching and sore. So cold.
The warmth of her mother’s name and memory diminished fast, giving way for the sodden sensation of dread. It made her chest feel tight. She shut her eyes, shook her head. A revelation wanted to make itself known; the second presence in the room now playing on its familiar notes fully. A bond, so strong, like an electrical current. Like a flickering buzz, attempting to reach inside her head, her soul.
The princess fought the sorrow welling up within, unable to fathom where it had risen from. She knew it was not her own pain she was channeling, and as she slowly caved in to it; she realized it was Vader’s. Vader’s pain, Vader’s sorrow. He didn’t have to utter another word; the lump in her throat threatening to choke her.
“You… must have. You did. If you knew my mother. I know you did.”
It took too long before Vader’s reply came, and if she hadn’t known any better; Leia would have thought the man’s mechanical tone to convey vulnerability. She shook off the strange insinuation, the uncomfortable churning at the pit of her stomach tightening. Ignored the still dull ache of her ankles, of her entire body after the manhandling. They wanted her to plead with them, she’d never have given them the satisfaction.
In some sense, she was thankful towards Vader for at the very least sparing her her dignity. She glanced down at her own hands, regarding the broken nails. The caked blood still staining her fingertips. She wanted to ask for her father’s name, for any further information. There was already a sensation of belonging deep within. One that frightened her, as much as it intrigued her.
“Why did you save me?”
“They had for intention to take advantage of you. In deplorable ways.”
Vader’s voice was direct, matter of fact.
“What does that matter to you? They were part of your Imperial forces, high ranking officers. I’m nothing to you. Whatever they were planning on doing to me, it would hardly affect your day. If anything, it might be of use to you. To see me suffer. Surely, you would be condoning such behaviour.”
“I am not the Emperor.”
“I doubt your ambitions are any different.”
“They are not. Yet, the Emperor would have been most pleased to see you degraded in such a vile manner. I do not condone such appalling notions. I have killed for less.”
It was such a cold, blunt statement. Its honesty made Leia shiver, feeling overwhelmed. Of course, she knew what the men in mind. As soon as they ganged up on her, trapping her; surrounding her with their leering faces.
Vader had killed them. She didn’t have to ask to know it. He’d crushed their windpipes, every single one of them. The image of him committing the brutal act practically materialised in her head, as a visual memory that wasn’t hers. To her own astonishment, the imagery thrilled her. She rejoiced the fact that they were gone.
Another silence, dragging on. Leia almost jumped up as one of the droids near the Caf station sprung to life with a shrieking noise; setting about a routine of preparing a mug. There was still no one else around, and as she glanced towards Vader; she was reminded of the fact that he would hardly have a drink made for himself. He hadn’t moved, but somehow she knew it was his doing. He had the strange powers of the Force, as her father had once whisperingly told her. Mystical telekinetic powers, remnants of the old Jedi religion.
As the serving droid scurried towards her with the steaming beverage, she eyed it suspiciously but accepted nonetheless. She wasn’t entirely sure how, but she just knew Vader could sense her gratitude. He was having an unprecedented mercy on her.
“Thank you,” she mumbled quietly, not forgetting her manners despite the way in which her utterance went unacknowledged.
The girl hesitated, wanting to ask more. Anything so as not to think about sneers and dirty wolf whistles; hands reaching out for her, groping under her dress. Tearing fabric, smearing face paint. Licking her lips, she sipped on her Caf.
“Is it because of my mother? That you saved me.”
“What was she to you?”
Leia expected no response, and she looked up in surprise. The longer she spent in the same room, alone with him, the less wary of him she became. She couldn’t merge the image of Vader striking down her father’s fellow rebel fighters with this man; the man who had avenged her honour, the man who for some reason couldn’t bear to see her assaulted. His aura was still chilling, but less so. More melancholy and sullen than angry. The honesty behind that one utterance made Leia’s heart sink.
“They cannot touch you, Child,” Vader said as if on cue. “Nobody can. I shall take it upon myself to see to that.”
As if he could somehow tap into her mind, he knew what to say to calm her. She understood then that the buzzing inside her skull was his doing, was part of his powers. Just as her father had warned her. The idea didn’t make her quite as uncomfortable as it should have. The way in which the man spoke the word ‘child’ seemed somehow gentle, fond almost. Despite the forced booming vocalization, there was some sort of affection to it.
“Yes. Then, you must also know the full truth. You must understand why.”
Vader turned his head towards her then; and she felt his covered eyes piercing her. She swallowed hard, cradling the mug close to her chest. As if its warmth might keep her safe from the sorrow, the darkness that the man was emulating. Was he doing it on purpose? Did he have control over this dark aura? Or was it simply the air about him, the oppressive feeling he seemed to carry with him. Its intensity swelled, making Leia’s fingers numb; prickling as if submerged in icy cold water.
Then, little by little, the despair and dread gave way. Began to dissipate; to fade. Less overpowering.
Leia shut her eyes again, braced herself. Exhaled. Let him in, let the buzzing surge overpower her, overwhelm her senses. Let that bond between them - the one that felt so distinctly like home - blossom. Eyes watering, but refusing to shed a single tear.
The visage of Padmé before her inner vision, her mother. A woman with sad hazel eyes, and long dark hair matching Leia’s own. And beside Padmé, her father.
Leia knew it before Vader spoke up. She knew what he was about to say, and could only accept it. She saw sandy brown curls, soft blue eyes. She saw a cocky smirk, one reminiscent of her own in her more embarrassing, overconfident moments. Belonging to a man, a Jedi. Cradling her mother close, promising to love her forever. Anakin, murmured her mother softly.
“You are Anakin Skywalker,” Leia gasped, eyes flying wide open.
“That was a long time ago. That name no longer holds any meaning to me.”
“You are my father,” Leia breathed, trembling as if she hadn’t registered his denial of his own identity.
Vader didn’t speak, but still she heard a voice inside her mind’s eye; one so different from the powerful mechanical vocals. She knew it belonged to Vader. To her father.
“Yes,” it spoke.
@threadsketchier beta read this and convinced me to post it, despite me being insecure about how good it really is. Apparently, they approved it, so here you go!
AU story of Vader saving Leia from a cruel fate, because he knows she’s his daughter, and because he has some morals and would never stoop that low. And because I love their father-daughter dynamic, and want to explore it more. Especially with Leia being the mini Anakin she is.
Also, don’t assault Vader’s daughter. It gets you killed.
And no italics cause I have zero energy to insert them again. I’m done.
Ellicent Kross and Tallis Anwen
I really want Obi Wan and Captain Picard to meet.
So, this post has been on my mind for some time now, especially chancecraz point about Jedi having more and more responsibilities piled on them, until the Republic was too big for the Jedi to do what was expected them. And then, as it usually does, my brain responded by producing an AU idea.
So, I propose to you: The Jedi Protest AU. The Republic must deal with the Jedi Order camping outside of the Senate with banners, demanding change.
You’re welcome, Star Wars fandom.
Is it just me, or is something now a lot more tricky when it comes to beating up our favorite SW characters when Rey is around?
Because first of all, she could probably sense things, right? Maybe before it happens, or while it’s starting.
She can also fight like a badass, she proved that beating Kylo Ren on Kef Bir.
And she can also heal people, which she also proved by healing Kylo Ren.
So if Rey is around, it seems like our trio in particular should probably win, and if they get hurt, she can heal them. Everyone lives.
That makes things kind of hard, doesn’t it?
I mean, it’s cool and everything, but what if I don’t want her to always save the day? To heal everyone’s wounds? What is Star Wars without a little bit of angst and suffering?
That means coming up with a way to keep her out of it, or disable her, or block the Force, or something.
I wonder if this is why Timothy Zahn created the ysalamiri, so Luke wasn’t always so powerful, so perfect.
Anyone else struggle with these thoughts writing post-TROS stories?
I’m writing a short one right now and it shouldn’t be a big problem, just a minor annoyance, but the long chaptered idea I want to write is almost impossible with Rey’s powers. Which is one reason why, in spite of scene after scene playing in my head, I haven’t quite started. I’m not sure what to do with her in a story where Finn and Poe are the focus and in great danger.
I love her, I really do, but it’s tricky now, isn’t it?
Should I do an introduction of all 70+ characters I have?
(I’m really bored if you can’t tell)
More settling in for everyone.
Figured I’d post early to celebrate the premiere of Clone Wars season 7!! Now excuse me while I go cry my eyes out over what’s gonna happen this season…
Anakin wished he had more free time to get to know Kitsune, but he had things to teach Ahsoka in the short time they had at the Temple before being sent back out into the war again. Obi-Wan was granted a couple weeks to help his new padawan settle in and learn the basics of being a Jedi before he and Kit were deployed.
From what Anakin could tell, Obi-Wan seemed happy with Kit. Maybe I’ll bump into them at lunch today. He hoped he’d at least see Obi-Wan to talk to him and ask him how things were going. It was odd not having his former master to talk to almost all the time. That had been the nice thing about Obi-Wan not having a padawan; if Anakin wanted or needed to talk to him, it had been easy to find him. Now, Anakin didn’t even know where to begin looking for Obi-Wan, nor did he really want to go searching because he didn’t want to interrupt anything Obi-Wan might be teaching Kit. Let them get used to each other first. No need to get in the way. I have plenty of time to do that once Kit is settled. He grinned a little at that thought.
we are the youth - cut until it bleeds
inside a world without the peace
facing a bit of the truth, the truth
Atelier pliage de serviettes/sabres-lasers pour l'anniversaire de mon frère. Que la force soit avec moi. ✌️
Happy S7 premiere day!!!!