#char: breha organa

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Leia Organa’s nanny

Leia Organa x reader

warnings:

a/n: i forgot abt lola!!! and this request!!!

prompt: anonymous: “Could I request headcanons from the Obi-Wan Kenobi series about being child!Princess Leia‘s babysitter, please? Thank you!”

your family had been trusted members of the Alderaanian Royal Guard for generations

you’d worked around the castle for some time before there was a delightful new addition to the royal family

and they asked you to care for her personally

“y/n, i think we have the perfect job for you” -bail

you met leia soon after she was born and thought she was the most beautiful girl to exist

“oh, i think i’m going to enjoy this job” -you

(it ended up being the most daunting thing you’d ever have to face)

she was not at all fussy as a baby, but as she grew up she got VERY sassy

and adventurous

“leia! no, please get down from there! your parents cannot know you climbed that high!” -you

“i can go higher!” -leia, climbing a tree

you just about had a heart attack

it only encouraged her

leia may be an adrenaline junkie, but she’s not opposed to a nice night in

you’ve gotten her to settle in with a good book and some homemade treats

breha and bail encourage you to teach her life skills, so she’s made a few meals and such on her own (you tried to help, she insists she can do it herself)

“do you like it?” -leia

“it’s…great…” -you, chewing charred cookies

she’s getting the hang of it

taking trips with the organa family

to which you get a small “break” from leia

not really, she loves to include you in family stuff

they all do, really

and you love the new sights across the galaxy, you never would have imagined these alone

“i think y/n would adore the skyline, don’t you?” -breha

“only one way to find out” -bail

they embraced you as family

you do leia’s hair a ton

“what would you like today?” -you

“braids” -leia

“what kind?” -you

“two pinned around my head” -leia

“i’ll do my best, dear” -you

you secretly taught leia her little attitude

always stand her ground and show kindness where it’s deserved

you have to gently wake her up, she’s been known to have some “active” dreams

you’ve been kicked and/or punched many mornings

“well, it was your own fault…sorry” -leia

she asks if you know anything of her birth parents

“unfortunately, i do not. i know you’d like answers, and maybe someday you’ll get them, but i would pry too hard if i were you” -you

“well, you aren’t me” -leia

“that’s true, miss attitude” -you

supervising when her cousins are around, since there seem to be plenty of disagreements between them

you can’t help but smirk at leia’s clapbacks

“now, come on, you guys. don’t be rude” -you

“who are you to tell me what to do, servant?” -cousin

“hey! don’t talk to them like that or i’ll make sure you go to bed bald!” -leia

“settle down—” -you

“not until he apologizes!” -leia

you have to remove leia from many of these situations

but she prefers alone time (and alone time with you) rather than those pesky social events

“i’d be so bored without you i think” -leia

“you do?” -you

“very much so” -leia

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[exitiosae-arch]

.

[qqueenofhades]

A prompt - 5 times Leia and/or Luke reminded Obi-Wan of their parents and one time they definitely did not.

She is so very much like Anakin that it stops his heart.

Barely five minutes after they meet for the first time -- well, not the first first time, he was there when she was born, held her in his arms as a slick and squalling infant as Padmé breathed the name Leia and then did not breathe again -- she's already backtalking him, questioning his judgment, running him on a merry chase, calling him old, leaping headlong into danger, irritatingly fond of her small droid sidekick, and otherwise confirming every one of Obi-Wan's worst fears that no matter ten whole years of Bail and Breha Organa's best efforts, the Skywalker blood is too strong to ever be tamped down. It should terrify him -- and make no mistake, it does. He's constantly second-guessing his decision to leave Tatooine, especially after the horrifyingly close shave that Owen already had with the Inquisitor, and give up his silent, solitary penance in watching over Luke from afar. He doesn't want to love Leia. His heart is already too old and scabby and far too thoroughly broken. It does not, or so Obi-Wan thinks, have room. It simply cannot stand doing it all again.

(Of course, as is always the case when it comes to the Skywalkers and Obi-Wan Kenobi, he's wrong, and totally helpless. He will love her whether he wants to or not, and it's just easier to give in and accept it.)

Then almost as fast, as they're scrambling to flee Daiyu, he sees Padmé in her: the stubborness, the strength, the willingness to take the lead and boss around men two or three or four times her senior. Obi-Wan does not want to count how many years older than her he is; it is many, and he feels every one of them. He cannot look at Leia and not see his own ghosts. It's an unfair burden to put on the shoulders of a small girl, but when has any of this been fair?

When the stormtroopers almost catch them in a lie on Mapuzo, when Obi-Wan -- despite all his protestations and warnings to her, is the one to slip up and call her Leia, not Luma -- when he tells her that he sometimes looks at her and sees her mother's face, it is no word of a lie. Especially not when he's seeing Anakin in that same desert, a hallucination or a dream or whatever it was, some twisted dark mirror of the man who used to be the other half of Obi-Wan's soul.

(And despite all the damage and char, the darkness and the damnation and the evil, he still is. He still is.)

(Leia Organa is Anakin Skywalker's daughter through and through, and so of course there was nothing Obi-Wan Kenobi could ever do but love her as if she was his own flesh and blood.)

Later, when they're safe and the adventure is over and Leia is back home on Alderaan with her parents, Obi-Wan returns the repaired Lola and tells the girl about Anakin and Padmé, as much as he can. She deserves to know more, she deserves the world, but he has to keep her safe, and he can only hope that he will get the chance to tell her. There is still so much left to do. There are still so many promises that he desperately yearns to keep.

When Obi-Wan is back on Tatooine, when he meets Luke face-to-face for the very first time, he sees Anakin's sandy-blond hair and Padmé's determined kindness, after Reva couldn't bring herself to kill this boy even when she was drowning in revenge, and his scarred old heart breaks again, just a little. But this time, it's not so much like searing agony. It is not ending and devastation and heartbreak and horror.

This time -- this time, at so very long last -- it feels like hope.

"Hello there," Ben Kenobi says to Luke Skywalker, and so, at long last, the cycle begins again.

Years and years later, beyond time and space, beyond life and death, in the luminous eternal netherworld of the Force, where Obi-Wan has existed ever since he gave himself up to the red blaze of Vader's lightsaber, where he has stayed to guide Luke from the beyond, where he has waited and waited -- at last, at last, his patience is rewarded, and his suffering, and his sacrifice, when --

"Hello, Master," Anakin Skywalker says -- Anakin, not Vader. His voice is husky and strange and echoing, but his crooked smile is just the same as Obi-Wan remembers, and oh, it burns brighter than the heart of an exploding star. "It's been a long time."

(Obi-Wan says nothing, just then. Obi-Wan could not possibly.)

"Luke saved me, you know," Anakin says softly, as they stand just beyond the warm brightness of the Ewoks' camp with Yoda perched contentedly on the fence between them, and watch Luke and Leia and Han and Wedge and Chewbacca and Lando all celebrate the demise of the second Death Star, and the desperate, delicate certainty that now, after so many long years and so many broken dreams, the galaxy will be free. "He did what I couldn't. He wasn't like me after all."

"No," Obi-Wan says back, just as softly, and their ghostly voices are lost in the echo and burst and brightness of the fireworks that are going off across the galaxy tonight, celebrating the Emperor's death -- even if very few of them know who truly killed him, who rose at long last from the ashes of Vader, and flew. "He was."

[padawanlost]

Ik you focus more on prequel meta than original meta but what are your thoughts on Luke’s relationship with his aunt and uncle? Like obviously they raised him and loved him and he was torn up about their deaths but like we never see him properly mourn them other than like one scene, and I find it interesting that they raise him to call them aunt and uncle, as opposed to Bail and Breha who raise Leia as their daughter even if she is aware she’s adopted

As you said, the OT is not really my ‘area’ but from the top of my head, I can think of a few reasons that could explain this:

1 – Beru and Owen raised Luke as their nephew because that’s what they were. Unlike Bail, they had no idea Anakin was the father of twins who needed to hidden from Vader and Palpatine at all costs. Obi-wan told them to raise Luke and the Lars had no reason to lie about who Luke was or where he came from because they didn’t know better. Besides, it would have been awkward to explain a weeks old baby to the neighbors and friends. Same goes for Bail and Breha. They knew about the twins past, but they also knew people were aware they wanted a child. So, in their case, the adoption lie was a perfect fit. Anyway, I don’t think Luke calling Beru and Owen aunt and uncle means he had a less loving family relationship than Leia. I think what we have is a situation where content creators are less interested in the ‘boring’ Lars farm life than they are about the Organas political intrigue. It’s much easier to explore Leia family life because it’s easier to insert familiar characters, places and sw tropes in those stories. Beru and Owen only had constant contact with one main character (Luke) and mostly stayed on their farm. Not nearly as exciting as the drama going on in Alderaan and Coruscant. 

2 – In the end of the day, Luke Skywalker was the main male hero of a 70s movie. if today’s heroes aren’t allowed to break down in realistic manner (they are only allowed sparse single tears and stoic behaviors), can you image how it was 40 years ago? Luke found his home utterly destroyed and the charred bodies of the only family he ever had and his reaction was a quiet and respectful sadness. Not the traumatic, breaking down that would probably occur. As someone who survived a house fire I can promise you it’s not the kind of thing you can brush aside. 

Again, not saying Luke didn’t *feel* the loss, I’m saying he wasn’t allowed to show it in ways today’s audience would find realistic because of the time period the character/movie was created. 

Leia, as a woman, was expected to be sad about it in a way Luke never would. But let’s be real and admit even Leia’s reaction to destruction of Alderaan wasn’t properly explored by the movies. So I don’t think it’s a matter of them not experiencing the trauma and grief, it’s a matter of George not wanting to explore that aspect of the characters on screen. He was focused on the larger picture but, thankfully, the EU did fill some gaps by exploring how the loss of their families affected them.

[reylogeek79]

The Ghost (continued)

Sometimes his fellow students let him join in with their childish games. Other times they had mocked him and called him ‘Prince Ben’ which he hated. He hadn’t wanted any of this and felt more different and isolated than ever. The tall man, now confirmed as Snoke, no longer came to visit him at the Training Temple. If he hadn’t already felt the gnaw of darkness eating away at him, the training had amplified it.

He hadn’t wanted to train in the first place. He didn’t want to be royalty or a politician or a Jedi. He just wanted to be a pilot. And he didn’t want to be alone. Apparently that was too much to ask.

Then his own family had betrayed him. He had been told by his fellow students that his mother had confirmed in the Senate that her parents, Ben’s grandparents, were not Queen Breha and Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan. Ben was the grandson of Padme Amidala, Queen and Senator, and of legendary Jedi Knight, Anakin Skywalker, who had torn down the Jedi Order with Emperor Palpatine and had become fearsome and awesome Darth Vader.

That he was the grandson of Darth Vader and Queen Amidala seemed to answer a lot of Ben’s questions about himself. He had not understood why his parents and Uncle had lied to him and everyone for so long, at least not until his peers had started to suggest that he should be utterly ashamed of his lineage.

Ben felt totally lost at sea within his emotions. Confusion, anger, suffering. And as always, aching loneliness. But from this Ben had started to draw strength. This was his legacy, the dark side.

His Uncle Luke had felt the power within Ben, had feared it, and had tried to murder Ben in his sleep. Ben had pulled the hut down on them both, burned down the training temple and fled with those of his fellow Padawans who had chosen to live. Those who did not want to leave, Ben had shown them the power of the dark side.

They went to the only consistent person in Ben’s life, Snoke.

Snoke had continued their training, had made Ben Master of the dark Knights of Ren, and each had chosen their own name. They were free to be themselves and do as they wished. Ben had chosen for himself the name of Kylo, and had left poor lonely homesick Ben in his past with his uncaring family. Ben was weak—Kylo was strong.

As a reward for choosing the right path, Snoke had given him a gift. The charred and deformed mask of his grandfather, still humming with the energy of the dark side. Kylo Ren revered the relic he had been given, a link to the grandfather he had been denied, and a family member who would never disappoint him.

In return, he pledged Snoke his lifelong service and became his apprentice. Soon after Snoke became Supreme Leader and his first act had been to lead a mission on a remote moon in the Outer Rim, and on this mission he was to eliminate one of his knights whose progress was poor at best.

Kylo had had his reservations, had promised to train the knight harder, but Snoke had lectured on the weakness of sentimentality, and had told Kylo that one thing that the Sith had gotten right was that the weak must be eliminated to truly be strong. Only then could Kylo became the Vader to his Emperor.

But they would not repeat the shortsighted mistakes of the Empire. The First Order would surpass and be stronger than that which had come before, not bound to the ancient Sith religion but taking its strengths and building upon them.

The light, Snoke had mused, it was the core of light amongst the gathering dark within Kylo that he felt would help him bring the galaxy under the control of the First Order. They would have ultimate power. He would emulate the great acts of Anakin and Vader combined, fuelled by the continual conflict within his own soul.

Snoke had warned him of the cost of betrayal too, not that there was any thought of the same running through Kylo’s mind. They were not Sith and there was no antiquated rule of two. Besides, Snoke knew him too well, knew what he thinking as it went through his mind. The Supreme Leader’s power was absolute—no one could challenge him.

Kylo wished to learn all that he could from his Master. The tall man, Snoke, the Supreme Leader, had always been there for him. If Kylo had not fallen under his protection as a child he would still be weak, lost, clinging to his mother’s skirts and trying to fulfil the expectations placed upon him as the son of a princess and the nephew of Luke Skywalker. Snoke deserved absolute loyalty, had earned it.

The Knights of Ren took the moon from the resisting miners and as the offending knight was silencing the whimpers of the almost dead, Kylo closed in behind him and plunged his lightsaber through the knight’s chest as directed.

It was only then that the supposed corpse got to her feet. For a few seconds Kylo paused, the familiarity of her appearance striking a chord in him as he struggled to remember how he may know this girl.

She began to back away, fear in her eyes, as the rain drenched her hair and her light tunic. He noted that she was dressed inappropriately for such a wet and barren place, more for heat and sand...

A long buried ghost came barrelling to the forefront of his mind.

This was not Shmi Skywalker. He had seen holos of his great grandmother and this was not her. Bastila? Bastila Shan, maybe? Kylo wished that the rain and dark would cease so he could see clearly through his visor.

He took a three steps forward and the ghost girl was gone, he was alone with his knights who had not shared the vision.

———

Circling around Jakku, Kylo berated himself on his missed opportunity to prevent the Resistance Pilot’s escape. He had felt the conflict in FN-2187 on Jakku. Had sympathised, and in doing so had let the traitor live and breathe in their midst.

Kylo could not help but feel something significant was stirring, something had awoken and was concealed to him just beyond the horizon. And whatever it was would have far reaching consequences. That it involved the map to Luke Skywalker shook Kylo to the core.

He wanted that map. Wanted to confront his treacherous Uncle on his own terms. But now the map was in a droid in the hands of a traitor.

The Supreme Leader would not be pleased. Kylo knew he would have to make it up to him, felt apprehension as to what would be expected.

Then Lieutenant Mitaka had interrupted his mental self-flagellation. Had told him FN-2187 had assisted the droid in boarding a Correllian YT model freighter.

Kylo had lashed out in frustration at the console before him.

“The Falcon,” his mind had screamed, but his childhood plaything had long since been lost. It was probably scrap by now. Certainly it was no longer in the possession of his father, he had heard. Jakku WAS a desert junkyard, however...

Just a coincidence, he told himself. Besides the Falcon was no longer the mascot of the Rebellion or the Resistance. Some small time smuggler was probably using it to transport ill gotten gains, if they hadn’t already been blown out of the sky.

His strikes ceased, and he ventured one further question through gritted teeth. “Anything else?”

The young Lieutenant paused, and Kylo felt the Force surge. This was significant, the news Mitaka was about to impart.

“The two were accompanied by a girl.”

The map to Luke Skywalker was in the same make of ship that was synonymous with Ben Solo’s childhood, with a traitor Kylo had spared and a girl from a desert junkyard. The Force screamed at him.

This is big. Snoke will feel this too.

Kylo Force pulled the nervous officer to him by the throat. “What girl?”

[notbecauseofvictories]

How does Bail Organa deal with being dad to an angry baby quarter-eldritch-abomination?

“Well,” Breha began, and then stopped. She was sitting very straight and regal in her chair, the way she only did when her mind was a hundred parsecs away and moving at lightspeed.

Bail had always been amused by that, how his wife looked more attentive and composed when not paying attention to what was going on around her. But she’d told him all about her parade of different tutors, etiquette and comportment and a hundred things a merchant’s son had no need of knowing. He supposed a lifetime of preparing to be Queen of Alderaan gave one all hells of muscle memory.

“Yes,” Bail sighed. He crossed the room to the sideboard, where someone had very considerately refilled the decanter. “Drink?”

“Yes,” Breha said absently. “Something with a great deal of alcohol in it, I think.”

Bail snorted. She was clearly not as distracted as he assumed.

Evening had fallen over the Capital, painting everything in blue shadows. This early in the year, everything was snow and ice, even the broad main streets. A convenient enough excuse, when the Datu’s son—tripped and…slid accidentally into a wall, bloodying his nose, ears, mouth. And when the Princesa of Aldera, Leia Organa, bared her teeth at the Datu’s son’s and snarled, You are a cruel and heartless boy—

Well. The cold had been convenient for that too. You know these long winter months, Bail had said, forcing warmth into his voice, because the Datu was looking to him in confusion and thinly-veiled horror, clutching at his son even as blood streamed down the boy’s face. Everyone goes a little stir-crazy.

Bail sat down across from Breha, setting down her glass of cognac. She reached for it, but he couldn’t be sure whether she knew it—her eyes were faraway, and her spine was very straight. Bail was used to this, being the third or fourth thing on her mind; he didn’t mind being patient, waiting for her to circle back to them, their daughter.

“When you—” Breha fell silent, running her finger lightly along the rim of the glass. Bail sipped his liquor, composing a list of necessary munitions for the Rebellion in his head, waiting for her to continue. 

“When you told me that it was safer not to openly discuss our daughter’s origins, I assumed that was because Padmé had somehow made an enemy of the Emperor. A miscalculation that perhaps also led to her death. But that is not the only reason, is it?”

Bail sighed, setting his glass down. “No.”

“The Jedi, the handsome one I met at the—”

“Yes.”

“Ah,” Breha said. Her eyes were still far off, unfocused. “I see. And the edict that was issued, calling for the death of all affiliated with the Jedi Order?”

“Yes. It also remains in effect for any…future Jedi that might arise.”

Bail straightened up when Breha’s gaze flickered, and met his. He smiled bitterly, tipping his glass to her as thought calling a toast. “You see my conundrum,” he said, not bothering to keep the irony from his voice.

“You said Obi-Wan escaped the destruction of the temple,” Breha said slowly. “He could—instruct her, teach her to contain it. At least enough so we don’t have further incidents like today’s.”

“We would be putting ourselves and all of Alderaan at risk. The Emperor’s enforcer, Darth Vader, is said to have a special hatred for him—I think they fought on another in the wars.”

Breha nodded, and Bail watched as she lifted the glass to her mouth, swallowed. She was a lovely creature, his wife, with a fearsome sort of mind; he liked to  watch her as it ticked over unerringly as any other piece of machinery. 

“Do you have a way to contact him more discreetly?” she finally asked. 

“Not—at the moment, but I know where he is. I’m sure I can come up with something. Why do you ask?”

Breha smiled triumphantly. There was a glint in her eye. “If you and I are going to raise a Jedi, husband, we’re going to need some guidance on the subject.”

.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Obi-Wan said, gazing in thinly-veiled horror at Bail. Bail had no idea why Obi-Wan had chosen Tatooine—other than the fact that it was possibly the furthest from the center of the galaxy you could get without going off the edge of a regulation star map. Bail supposed it was beautiful, in a sere, barren sort of way, though he personally didn’t enjoy the implicit promise of death that seemed to linger like a miasma over the sand. Bail had slept badly the night before, listening to some unknown thing screaming in the dark. 

Then again, if Kenobi truly was trying to stay off the Empire’s radar and away from Darth Vader’s wrath, no one would ever think to look here.

Bail squinted into late-afternoon sunlight. Officially, he was travelling through the Outer Rim as part of an outreach initiative by the Senate. Unofficially, he knew that most of his fellow senators believed he was visiting a mistress—more than one of them had congratulated him on slipping the grip of his formidable royal wife. (When Bail told Breha this, she’d mostly been flattered by the implication that if Bail wanted a mistress, he’d have to stash them all the way in the Outer Rim to avoid her.)

Actually, Bail was sitting beside Obi-Wan Kenobi outside a wattled hut, watching the sun set over the mesas and graciously pretending to drink the awful tea Obi-Wan had made for him. 

“Why not?”

Obi-Wan blinked. “The art of being a Jedi is complex and ancient—there are arcane secrets—it’s just not advisable,” he spluttered.

Bail huffed. “That is hardly a convincing argument.”

“Neither you nor Breha are Force-sensitive; you won’t even be able to tell if she’s doing it correctly. This is like a fish blithely announcing he plans to teach a starbird how to fly!”

“Well, give me the introductory level. Or whichever level involves teaching young Jedi not to assault people with the Force.”

Obi-Wan froze, his hand spasming around his own mug of tea. “Leia hurt someone?” he breathed, his face going shadowed and haunted. Bail frowned.

“Another boy; she was angry, and she choked him, bloodied his nose. The incident was embarrassing and—suspicious, if we’re trying to keep her existence a secret, but minor. We’re just worried, you needn’t look like someone has died.”

Obi-Wan shut his eyes as though pained, and a shudder ran through his whole body until he was almost doubled-over. “Obi-Wan?” Bail asked. “Are you—”

“You have a datapad?” Obi-Wan mumbled. Bail blinked.

“Yes.”

“Take notes.” Obi-Wan didn’t wait, and Bail scrambled to dig through his pack and grab the datapad and stylus before he got too far. “The first lesson any Jedi must learn—”

.

The first five lessons were a nightmare. 

“That was my great-grandmother’s favorite dining table,” Breha said mournfully as she and Bail watched the charred hunks of wood carried from the room. “It was a gift from one of the Queens of Naboo, in honor of the jubilee celebration of her reign.”

“We can ask Queen Raina for another one,” Bail offered. The guards bowed, and shut the doors behind them, such that it was just Bail and Breha alone in the study.

He could hear Leia’s sobbing from the next room. They hadn’t meant to scare her, or yell as much as they had, but it had been terrifying, a little girl with fire all around her and a look of unnatural peace on her face. Bail sighed. “This isn’t working.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Our daughter managed to somehow summon lightning from her hands, that seems like some sort of progress.”

Bail snorted. “In the wrong direction, I think. She’s supposed to learn restraint, not….I’m afraid she’s sliding further away, she’s losing control. Obi-Wan told me that many of the Sith were Jedi, once.”

“We cannot keep running to him,” Breha said with a sigh, leaning against the doorframe in a rare show of weariness. Bail realized with a start that there were lines, bracketing around her mouth, that had not been there only a few years before. “The Security Council has begun discussing a military installation on Alderaan, I will need to use every weapon in my arsenal to keep those—stormtroopers,” she ground out icily, “from our world. If there is even a hint—”

“What about Jedha?” Bail said, and Breha blinked. Then her expression transformed into something thoughtful, considering.

“I thought the temple there was destroyed.”

“It was. But the worshipers still come. And the Jedi Order was only one of the sects that revered the Force, at this point we may be safer to look outside the Core for aid.”

“Someone discreet,” Breha said, finally.

“Of course.”

“Someone—patient. And not afraid. I will not allow our daughter to grow up with her teacher fearing what she can do.”

“Of course not.”

Bail crossed the room to her, and with an indulgent smile, Breha allowed herself to be crowded against the wall, fitted herself into his arms; her hands finding the small of his back with familiar ease. Bail had been away too long; her hair smelled different, something floral that made his nose itch. “Do you ever wish I had brought you a simpler daughter?” he murmured, and he could feel her laugh.

“There are no easy children,” Breha murmured. “I would rather simply love ours. Now bring her someone who will teach her how not to burn the galaxy down around her.”

Privately, Bail doubted there existed anyone who would make Leia Organa less incendiary—but at least they could make it less literal.

.

(“Everyone says of all the Guardians of the Whills, you are the most learned, and faithful. You remember the old ways,” Bail said.

“I sympathize with your plight,” Chirrut Îmwe said, setting his own teacup down. Malbus, standing in the doorway and casting a long shadow, grunted; a smile flickered across Chirrut’s mouth in response. “But as long as there are pilgrims to the Holy City, we must stay, and defend her.”

Bail exhaled, and thought of shining Aldera, in the mountains, where the air was thin and cold and bright. Where his daughter could make the air burn, and his wife ruled the world. “I understand,” he said. “Thank you for your time.”)

.

Later—much later, when neither Jedha or Alderaan could be defended any more, and Obi-Wan was nothing more than another nexus of brightness in the Force—Leia was watching her brother.

“I remember this,” she said suddenly.

“What?” Luke asked, cracking open an eye. “Do you mean remember, or—remember, like our mother?”

“We have to come up with a better term for that,” Leia sighed. “And no, I actually remember this,” she added. “One of my tutors, Mistress Draight. We used to do breathing exercises and control exercises, and…I always just thought it was mindfulness. I had a lot of tutors,” she said with a shrug.

“You had Jedi lessons?” Luke asked, opening his eyes fully and uncurling from his cross-legged meditation pose.

“I didn’t think they were Jedi lessons. No one ever said the word ‘Jedi’ and we never moved anything with the Force, or discussed lightsabers. It was just supposed to be calming. A way of establishing control.”

“Huh,” Luke said. “Did it help?”

“I—think so? My mother used to joke about the time I set my great great-grandmother’s table on fire, but I always assumed it was because my sleeve caught on the candle,“ she mused.

Luke laughed, hooking his hand in the loose fabric of her dress and pulling her forward until his legs were tangled hers. “Okay,” he said, touching his forehead to hers. “Show me what you got.”

Leia grinned.