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kanerallels · 1 year ago

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Finally, I have a fic worth posting for @jacensyndullaweek! (although I do have one thing that I'm gonna end up posting late that I want to share)

Prompt: Culture/Heritage

Rating: G

Read here on AO3!!

1. Sabine

“Are you sure Ezra’s gonna be okay with this?” Jacen frowned at Sabine as they headed into the cockpit of the New Dawn.

“Rule number one of art as a Mandalorian,” Sabine said. “Never ask. Just do. Unless it’s Hera’s room. Then you ask. Besides, the Dawn needs a little brightening up. No ship should be entirely gray.”

The boy wavered for another second, then grinned. “Okay, cool! Where are we starting?”

“That’s more like it.” Sabine paused, turning in a circle. “That wall,” she said, pointing. “You start there, and I’ll start on the other side.”

“What should I paint?” Jacen asked as she passed him the box full of small finger paint cans she’d bought just for this— it was a good place to start for a beginner.

Pulling out her paint guns, Sabine said, “Whatever you want. If you don’t know, start with a feeling. Or something you know. Just don’t hesitate. When you’re doing graffiti, you need to be confident. Got it?”

Jacen nodded, his eight-year-old face screwed up into a serious expression as he pulled out green and blue paint. “I got it.”

“Good. Let’s get started.”

2. Zeb

“Okay,” Hera said, pinching the bridge of her nose. Zeb recognized this expression— she’d worn it about a thousand times while lecturing him and Ezra back in the day. “Run it past me one more time. How in the name of the Force did you break your arm, Jacen?”

Wincing, Zeb said, “It was an accident, I swear.”

“It was!” Jacen agreed earnestly, struggling to push himself upright in the hospital bed and wincing slightly. Hera pressed her lips into a straight line— never a good sign.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Kanan offered from next to Hera. His expression was serene, and he brushed a gentle palm against Hera’s arm, which seemed to calm her a little bit.

“Right,” Zeb said. “So, I was talking to the kid about some of the old sports they had back on Lasan.”

“And there was this one where the greatest warriors would jump from rock spire to rock spire, show off their climbing skills,” Jacen said, his eyes gleaming. “So I asked Uncle Zeb to show me—”

“—and he asked to try it out—”

“—and I fell,” Jacen concluded.

Throwing her hands in the air, Hera said, “And you didn’t even think about the fact that Jacen could get hurt doing that?”

“Well, Lasat cubs usually didn’t,” Zeb offered. “I guess I forgot that humans have more fragile bones. No offense.”

Kanan let out a choking noise that Zeb immediately knew was a snort of laughter, and hastily disguised it as a cough. Hera shot him a sideways glare, but her expression softened a few seconds later as she sighed.

“Thank you for trying to teach Jacen, but you do need to be careful. Next time, maybe start with something a little easier? Or make sure Kanan or Ezra are there to catch him?”

“Absolutely,” Zeb agreed.

As Hera turned to talk to the approaching doctor, Jacen leaned towards Zeb. “Can we try it again when my arm gets better?” he whispered.

“Only if you get better at not falling,” Zeb whispered back. “I don’t want your parents to skin me alive.”

“Deal!”

3. Kanan

“Hey, Dad?”

Kanan lifted his head, pulled out of his meditation trance by his son’s voice. Tracking him to the doorway to his and Hera’s room, he waved for him to come in as he said, “What’s going on, kiddo?”

He heard Jacen move into the room and drop down into a similar posture in front of him. “I’m doing this school project— we’re doing family trees,” he explained. “And I need your help.”

Kanan chuckled. “With this family, I’m not surprised. Where’d you get tripped up? Miss an aunt or uncle?”

“Nah,” Jacen said, his matching grin clear in his voice. “Grandparents, actually. I got Grandpa Cham and Grandma Eleni on Mom’s side, but I don’t really know any on your side.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Kanan said, “Well, you and I are in the same boat there, actually. I never knew my biological parents.”

“Okay— so should I just leave it blank?”

Kanan frowned, stroking his beard. “You could,” he said slowly, turning the question over in his mind. It might have been easier just to leave it that way. But the point of these family trees— he assumed— were that the kids didn’t forget where and who they’d come from. The people who’d shaped their lives before those lives had even really begun. “Let me show you something,” he told Jacen, getting to his feet.

He knew the layout of the room well by this time, and it was a matter of ease to step over to the shelf nearby and pull down one of the holodisks stacked there. Turning it on, he let it rest in his palm and held it out to Jacen. “What do you see?”

“Um, two people— a man and a woman. Looks like they’re posing for a picture,” Jacen said. “The woman has braids, and she’s laughing. The guy’s more serious, but he’s smiling a little. He’s taller and bald, looks like he has darker skin than the woman.” He paused, then said, “They’re both wearing Jedi robes. Are these—”

“The woman is my master, Depa Billaba,” Kanan said, turning off the holodisk. “And the man is her master, Mace Windu. A friend recovered this holo for me a year or two ago. It’s the only thing I have left of them.” Reaching out, he pressed it into Jacen’s hand. “They are as close to family as I ever had.”

Jacen was silent for a moment, and Kanan waited, knowing his son was thinking. “Thanks for showing me, Dad,” he finally said.

“Any time, kiddo.”

4. Ezra

“Why are we going here again?”

Ezra glanced at Jacen, who was bouncing on his heels with impatience. “I thought you said we were going to do Jedi stuff,” the fifteen year old pointed out.

“We are going to,” Ezra said truthfully. “We’re just making a stop first.” Looking both ways, he started across the street, keeping one eye on Jacen as he followed him. The kid had finally outgrown his habit of forgetting to look before he leapt— mostly. At the very least, he looked both ways before he crossed the street now.

He was still willing to throw himself headfirst into situations, though, not unlike both of his parents. That included Jedi training, and Ezra knew that he should be just as excited as Jacen was for this.

And he was, really. He was just also pretty sure Kanan had chosen wrong, and that his old master should be training Jacen himself.

But that wasn’t the point. Right now wasn’t actually about that. Right now was about visiting somewhere he hadn’t been since he’d gotten back from the Unknown Regions, and showing Jacen a new piece of Lothal.

Turning a corner, he spotted the old warehouse. Even just the outside looked different than it had in the years during the war— no guards, and the door was wide open.

He looked at Jacen. “Did your mom and dad ever tell you about this place?” When the boy shook his head, Ezra explained, “During the war, this was where the main black market congregated, particularly around Life Day. I used to come here all the time— mainly when I was by myself, but I came with Kanan and the others a couple times.”

Starting towards the entrance, he continued, “But Lothal doesn’t really need a black market any more— so now it’s just a regular one. One of Lothal’s hidden treasures. I thought you should see it.”

They stopped at the entrance together, and Ezra took in the familiar sights. He recognized some faces— the elderly owner of the stall selling woven blankets, the Gotal who pretended not to notice when he’d stolen a few kebabs every now and then— and noticed others missing.

The war had changed everything, but they were putting it back together, slowly but surely.

He looked at Jacen, who was taking in the place with wide eyes. “So. Lunch, then training?”

“Sounds good,” the boy said with a grin.

5. Hera

“And you’re sure you’re ready for this?” Hera checked as she, Kanan, and Jacen headed towards the small building awaiting them.

Her son gave her a grin. “Mom, we’ve talked about this like twenty times now. I’m seventeen— I’m ready. You got your tattoos way younger than this.”

Wincing at the memory of the needle’s sting, Hera said, “I know. That’s why I’m checking. I don’t want you to do it just because someone said you couldn’t, like I did. It was terrifying—”

“And you were like eight,” Jacen pointed out. “Of course that would be terrifying. But trust me— I want to do this. I already got Dad’s looks, and I want to honor your side, too.”

Kanan, who’d been silent thus far, spoke up. “He’s right, Hera. Besides, he’s almost eighteen. Even if you put your foot down, he’d only be delaying it for a couple months.”

Letting out a sigh, Hera said, “I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“Nope!” Jacen said cheerfully. “Besides, you let Dad get the tattoos.”

“Your father is a full grown man,” Hera said. “And incredibly stubborn, I might add.”

Kanan let out a snort. “I think we all know who the stubborn one is in this relationship, Captain Hera.”

Grabbing the door handle, Jacen said, “Yeah, I know better than to get involved in this argument. Come on— Ivri’s already inside!”

Hera followed his nod to where Jacen’s friend, the half-Mirialan boy with a perpetual smile, was waiting for them next to the Twi’leki tattoo artist. “Alright,” she said reluctantly.

“Go ahead, Jacen,” Kanan told him, catching hold of Hera's arm. “Your mom and I will catch up with you in a minute. Don’t choose anything obscene or too embarrassing while we’re gone, okay?”

Grinning, Jacen said, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As he ducked inside, the door swinging shut behind him, Kanan lifted an eyebrow at Hera. “What are the odds of him listening to that?”

“Well he has your genes, so about fifty-fifty.”

“Harsh.” Kanan paused, then said, “You okay about this?”

Unable to hold back a wry smile, Hera said, “You know me well, love. But… yeah, I am. Mostly. It’s just…” she looked through the window where Jacen and his friend were chatting with the Twi’lek. “Our little boy is growing up,” she said with a sigh. “It’s strange.”

“You’re telling me,” Kanan said with a sigh. “At least he’s less likely to shoot himself into the Unknown Regions than the last one is.”

Hera snorted with amusement. “He’d better be, or we’ll be having words.”

“I believe it.” Offering her his arm, Kanan said, “Shall we?”

Taking a deep breath, Hera looped her arm around his. “Okay. Let’s do this.” She let him lead her into the tattoo parlor, trying not to think about just how much her son was growing up.

We’re proud of him, though, she thought with a twinge. And he’s still our son.

+1. Trill

(set a few weeks before the last chapter of Disproving The Love At First Sight Theory)

Jacen sensed it as soon as Trill woke up. Generally speaking, he wasn’t terribly skilled at sensing living beings— not the way his dad or sister were, and definitely not the way Ezra was. His master was one with the living Force in a way Jacen never had been.

But this didn’t seem to be true for Trill, for whatever reason. Jacen could always sense it when she woke up, and could track her pretty easily throughout the ship. It was like he was attuned to her, more than he was to anyone else.

Sometimes he wondered why that was, but since he was currently living in close quarters with not only her, but also the galaxy’s nosiest Kalleran, he decided not to spend too much time on it.

It was about ten minutes after she woke up that she made her way into the New Dawn’s kitchen. Stifling a yawn, she said, “Morning— what’s that smell?”

“Good morning,” Jacen said cheerfully. “Remember that mysterious package I… picked up on Cantonica yesterday?”

Trill arched an eyebrow at him. “You mean the one that you stole from the hotel and smuggled out under your poncho?”

“That’s the one,” Jacen said. “But the people there are corrupt and tried to kill us like four times, so it doesn’t count. Anyways— behold! Our new waffle maker!”

He flourished a hand at the maker, which stood on the counter, emanating the delicious smell of cooking waffles. Trill frowned at it, then directed the expression at Jacen. “You stole a waffle maker?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing here,” Jacen told her. “Remember, they tried to kill us. But also, yeah. Now we can have waffles for breakfast!”

Settling at the table, Trill swept her loose hair out of her eyes, and Jacen tried to pretend like his gaze hadn’t followed the movement, and lingered for just a moment. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s so important about waffles?”

The iron beeped, and Jacen turned towards it. Rolling up his sleeves, he flipped it open and started to remove the waffle with a fork, responding to Trill’s question as he did.

“It’s a family tradition. My dad makes the best waffles in the galaxy— Uncle Zeb makes the second best, tied with me. We always used to eat them whenever my mom would get back from a dangerous mission, or before Ezra and I would leave, or any special occasion like that.” Maneuvering the waffle onto a plate, he slid it towards Trill. “And I guess… I wanted to share that with you. If you’re interested.”

She looked surprised, in that way she always did whenever Jacen said something like this. It was the kind of surprise that made him think maybe, just maybe… she’d stick around.

For a minute, Trill held his gaze, then offered him a smile. “I— I am. Thank you.”

Don’t read into it, Jacen ordered himself, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat at her smile. Aloud, he said, “Good. Cause I have a feeling Kasmir’s gonna be here soon, and he’ll be hungry. So you’d better get started on that waffle.”

“Will do,” Trill said, hopping up to grab a fork. Turning back to his work, Jacen felt himself grinning. Starting out a day with waffles and Trill? It really couldn’t get much better than that.

#jacen syndulla week #jacen syndulla week 2023 #jacen syndulla #sabine wren #garazeb orrelios #kanan jarrus #ezra bridger #hera syndulla #trill gedyc #jacen syndulla x oc #star wars rebels #swr #janus kasmir #star wars rebels fan fic #swr fan fic #writing stories is a kind of magic too

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incorrectpizza · 1 year ago

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@jacensyndullaweek is pretty much over - thank you so much to ALL the creators and commenters who made the week fun!

I didn't write as much as I would've liked but I have added quite a few entries to "First" and am calling it complete - for now. If anyone has any ideas for more entries, I'd love to continue it someday.

Fic under the cut for anyone who prefers to read here on Tumblr.

"Dada"

Hera drops the dish she’s washing the first time she hears Jacen say “Dada!”

The plate, made of child-proof plastoid, doesn’t shatter.

Her heart does.

Jacen’s sitting at the table when he says it, playing with the Tooka cat Sabine had made him out of one of Kanan’s old shirts.

Hera stares, watching every movement of Jacen’s tiny fingers. As she analyzes her son’s burbling noise, she wonders if she had heard him correctly.

Then Jacen points at the cat and exclaims “Dada!” again.

It’s all she can do to stay standing.

She inches along the wall from the kitchen to the common room, bracing herself with one hand.Sinking down onto the bench next to Jacen, she rubs the back of his hand and strokes the tooka’s ears with her fingertips.

After over a minute of excruciating silence, she tries to make sense of Jacen’s new word.

“Your tooka is made out of Dada’s shirt.” The raw truth. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Did Sabine tell you that?”

In response to her rhetorical question, Jacen nods while burbling and babbling “Dada” and “Mama” both several more times.

Using the Force

The first time Hera sees Jacen use the Force, she breaks.

She's suspected it for a few weeks - how else could Jacen have retrieved the plushie he tossed from his crib? - but she hoped, prayed she would be wrong. Having a normal child would be easier. Safer.

She wouldn't have to worry about him getting delusions of grandeur and going off to fight a war single-handedly, or dying on some backwater world protecting a few innocents. But watching his favorite green Tooka flying across the room, she can picture a lightsaber hurtling to his hand someday, in some stupid, noble act.

She snatches it away from him, and holds it tight, but he wails and pulls at it again, harder. She can feel the toy pulsing, and it’s one of the strangest sensations she’s ever felt. She loosens her grip and the Tooka returns to Jacen, who immediately returns to giggling.

Seeing his smile only makes it worse. She can’t breathe, can’t stay. Stumbling into Kanan’s old cabin, she clutches one of his shirts and sobs into it. Praying and ranting to her Ryl gods and the Force itself, she pleads for her son and mourns her dream of a peaceful life for him.

Flying the Ghost

“Mom, mom, can I fly?”

Hera has absolutely no recollection of the first time Jacen asked her, begged her , to let him take the pilot’s chair. He was no more than three, and in subsequent months and years, the question seems to echo throughout the Ghost every day, whether they’re together or apart.

She does, however, always treasure and remember the first day she finally relents to his pleas. He’s five years old and inquisitive as ever. They’re taking a joyride after the victory at Endor, a rare reprieve from the fight. Hera has seen enough to know it’s not over - and might not be in her lifetime. But the joyous atmosphere has permeated her so thoroughly she lets herself imagine, for one night, that it is.

When Jacen asks once again, “Can I have a turn, mom?”, she tells him, “Yes, but you have to be careful, love.” She lets him clamber up on her lap, and he shrieks and giggles. After he’s over his little fit of joy, she lets him “fly” - gently placing his hands above her own.

She loosens her grip, letting him steer the ship. He circles and spins and she gulps down bile for as long as she can before gently retaking control of the Ghost.

"Does this mean I'm a pilot now?"

She rustles his green hair and places a light kiss on top. "You still have a long way to go, love."

Date

Jacen goes on his first date when he’s sixteen. Hera gives him a ride to Ryloth to spend a quiet evening with a girl he’s been friends with since the first summer he spent with Cham.

Hera doesn’t know her well, but she’s heard all about her from Jacen.

Her name is Melyni, but her friends call her Mel, and she’s seventeen, with purple-pink skin, a few light freckles and a bubbly laugh. She just graduated from high school, early, and she’s leaving Ryloth soon for university.

Hera walks with Jacen as far as Central Square. From a nearby shop, she watches as he knocks and waits and shakes Mel’s father’s hand. They walk hand-in-hand down to a traditional Twi’leki restaurant, then disappear. She buys a few meilooruns and walks a few blocks to Cham’s little cottage on the outskirts of town. They spend the evening reminiscing of their own young loves.

When Hera makes it back to the Ghost , Jacen’s still not there. She and Chopper wait up until dangerously close to curfew. Jacen comes back with a glint in his eyes she remembers from Kanan’s youth - and a smudge of red on his lip.

She offers him a napkin and he stares at it for several seconds before blushing a brilliant green.

Steps

Jacen’s first steps are not from mother to father, but mother to droid. He’s been testing his legs for weeks, hands gripping onto ledges and chairs. Hera gives him her hands and he wraps his fist tight around two fingers.

And then he takes his first wobbly, independent steps.

Chopper’s on the other side of the Ghost ’s common room, waving his manipulators and beeping some concerns about the ship. Jacen glances over at the droid and wriggles free of Hera’s grasp. He toddles precariously a meter or so, then leans up against Chopper, hands on his dome, and looks back at her, grinning.

Hera swears she feels a presence beside her, light and joyful, and looks over, half expecting to see Kanan standing there. There’s nothing, of course, but, somehow, she knows he’s watching. Turning back around, she watches as Chopper waves his manipulators, and Jacen claps and shrieks. Jacen’s excitement causes him to grow unsteady again, and he falls flat onto his bottom.

Hera scoops him up, tickles him, and praises him. And for once, she doesn’t cry, doesn’t mourn, just laughs and enjoys her son.

Meeting Ezra

Hera’s sons meet for the first time when they’re six and twenty-four. Ezra returns home with little fanfare, just a hastily-thrown together family dinner. He’s shocked to discover Jacen, but delighted. No longer the baby of their ragtag family, he scoops Jacen up in his arms as Hera tells him that yes, he’s Kanan’s son - a last gift to them from lover and father and friend.

After the initial surprise wears off, Ezra swiftly steps into his new big brother shoes.

The years have made him more confident. He walks with a bit of humble swagger - not the childish attempt he’d done at fourteen, but real charm. He and Sabine laugh and joke and Jacen begs to see his new lightsaber, which Ezra wisely locks in a cabinet on the Ghost after briefly showing the boy how it lights up. They spend the rest of the day playing games, sparring with practice sticks and meditating.

At the end of the night, they all gather around the common room in Ezra’s tower, Ezra telling story after story from the last six years. Jacen sits scrunched between Hera and Zeb, neck craning over to watch Ezra until his head finally flops onto Hera’s lap. Sabine grabs a tie-dyed blanket and stretches it over him before returning to her seat at Ezra’s side.

“And then, Thrawn said-”

Hera feels herself slowly drifting off to sleep as Ezra’s words blur together. Zeb’s arm creeps around her and he offers Hera a sympathetic grin, inviting her to rest her head on his shoulder. She surrenders, unwilling to disturb Jacen - or leave her family, just this once.

In her last moments of wakefulness, Hera hears a distant wolf howl.

#star wars #star wars rebels fanfic #star wars rebels #jacen syndulla #i would like to see my broccoli child #jacen syndulla week 2023 #jacen syndulla week

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