#randomlegendsthoughts

[legendssaga]

A love is coming home to me

The story of how to people share a very important story with people they love, about people they love aka what happened when Anakin and Tahiri returned home from the locker incident

Tahiri and Sannah:

“And then we waited for Corran to return, all cramped up in there, and –” Tahiri made a dramatic pause, waiting until Sannah was finished plucking an old feather from her pillow. “Anakin kissed me,” she finished. That certainly got the young Melodie’s full attention. “No way!” She slid down from the bunk, seating herself across from Tahiri at the ground, and leaned forward. “Tell me everything. How was it?” Tahiri was surprised to find herself blushing. Sannah was her friend - which is why she’d been especially eager to share the news, and she had known that the other girl would ask this specific question. Yet, she didn’t quite know how to respond.

“Nice,” she said at last. “I mean it was really - I liked it.” Raising her eyebrows, making her yellow eyes shine even brighter, Sannah urged, “but – ?” “No but,” Tahiri promised. “I mean it wasn’t perfect with that potentially dying from asphyxiation stuff hanging in the air… but I liked it.” “Was it like the holos?” Sannah asked inquisitively. “Like, butterflies and stuff?”

To that, Tahiri certainly had no answer. Had it been? She couldn’t quite tell. For some reason, she’d always felt the same when she was around Anakin - not really the type where she’d have a queasy feeling in her stomach, but just a general warmth and protectiveness that exceeded the ordinary. She wanted to have him close, but not to the same extent that she, say, liked having Sannah around. And Sannah was her best friend, too.

Seeing the lack of an answer, Sannah decided she cared more for another topic, anyway. “So, does that mean you’re –” her voice lowered into a whisper, “boyfriend and girlfriend now?”

If her cheeks hadn’t been red already, they certainly would be, now. “I don’t know,” she responded truthfully. “I bet you are! I mean that’s what it means, isn’t it? If you kiss someone? That’s making you boyfriend and girlfriend.” “I don’t think it’s that easy,” Tahiri tried to say, and Sannah chimed in, “Alright, maybe not the kiss but – if you want to do it again… like if both of you wanna do it again, then certainly that would make you boyfriend and girlfriend. Right?” Distinctly, Tahiri wondered if that’s what she usually sounded to people, and then decided to point out, “we did kiss again after that.”

Anakin telling Jaina:

“I’m jealous of you, you know that?” “What, why?” Anakin returned, sitting on a small, cushioned armchair across from his sister, who was still half-leaned over Ben’s crib. “Well you got to see him first. Now he’s already three-times the size.” “It’s not that bad,” Anakin promised. “Besides, you’ll probably be his favorite cousin anyway.” While her face was partially hidden, Anakin could see her smiling at the thought, holding Ben’s tiny hand for another second before she decided to turn around and use one of those rare moments of calm before the storm. “What about you, huh? You seem different too, somehow.” Anakin frowned. “Different to what?”

His sister simply rolled her eyes. “To yourself. Last time we saw each other, you didn’t have that… kriff, I don’t know. That look.”

He considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “Guess it’s all been a lot. It’s… weird falling asleep these days, cause it’s almost certain I’ll wake up sensing another wave of death and despair.” Jaina didn’t answer. She didn’t need to - too familiar to the feeling herself, and with no way to end the heartache other than to end the war. If they just knew how to pull the trick… “That’s the point though, little brother. I’ve seen what we became since the war started. You, I guess, most of all, given everything that has happened to our family. But this is the most relaxed I’ve seen you in months – probably the happiest, too.” Anakin gestured towards the crib. “Great things happened, I s’pose. It was nice to see Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara have finally achieve what they always wanted. Bonus points for her disease having vanished without a trace.” There were other things, too, Anakin knew. He didn’t owe the entirety of his mood to becoming a cousin. Yet, that other thing, as miraculous as it felt, had opened another treasure books of things he had to worry about. “C’mon. Talk to me. I can see the gears turning, and it’s not our insanely adorable little family addition that sets them in motion. What’s that other great thing? Did you built a Yuuzhan Vong detector? Found a treasure? Kissed a girl? Made a –” she stopped, suddenly aware of her brother’s evident response to what she’d said just a second prior. She raised an eyebrow, knowing it was ridiculous to point out that she knew. He knew that she knew. “I don’t know why I did it,” Anakin admitted, and Jaina shook her head. “Did you like it?” “Well, yes, but —” “Okay, so, suggestion. ‘I don’t know why I did it’ is reserved for cold-blooded murder. Alright? Not for your first kiss. Which I suppose it was. Besides, we both know why you did it.” Without truly wanting it to, Jaina could feel a smile sneaking on her face. “You know, if we hadn’t been forced to fight a full-on invasion, I think it would’ve happened a lot sooner.” “Maybe,” Anakin admitted, both to his sister and to himself. “But then I also wouldn’t feel awful about it.” “Hey,” Jaina snipped with her finger. “Remember what I said about cold-blooded murder references. Don’t tell me you actually regret kissing her.”

“Of course I don’t.” “Then what’s the matter with feeling bad about it?”

Anakin closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He’d wanted to settle his thoughts on this before telling anyone, but he also knew that Jaina might be the only one who would understand. “Because I’m not exactly a great friend. And I’m wondering if I simply made it worse.” “Worse?” Jaina asked incredulously.

Anakin shrugged helplessly. “You tell me what it means. I love her. But somehow, everything I do eventually turns out bad. So maybe I shouldn’t have kissed her - now the next time I’ll mess everything up, it’ll hurt us even more.” “Serious question, Anakin. Have you talked to Tahiri since?” “No, not really,” he admitted, shuffling uneasily. “I guessed that,” Jaina said, wiping a fringe of reddish hair from Ben’s face. “Cause you’re talking utter nonsense. You two have been friends for so long - true, you might sometimes act exactly like the kid that you are, but you’re also still the very person she chose as her best friend the instant you met. I’m fairly certain she wouldn’t change anything about it.” She looked up again, gifting him a smile. “I’m probably the last you’d want to ask for relationship advice but - there’s no big thing coming today or tomorrow. So how about this time, you just sit down in the cantina and talk about things? Have dinner, watch a meteor shower, whatever kids your age do.” “You’re hardly two years older than I am.” Jaina shrugged. “And yet double the wise.”

[legendssaga]

Another fine mess

Props for helping me come up with the most wonderful title for yet another classic legendssaga fic :D @elli-incarnate

“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind having him?” Luke asked again, still holding a bag of Ben’s favorite toys and other necessities in his right hand. “You and Han have been meaning to take things easy for some time.” “We can always leave them with Kam and Tionne instead,” Mara agreed, ruffling her son’s hair. Leia, however, who already had her beloved nephew in a secure hold at her side, only scoffed: “Kam and Tionne. We can have much more fun together, can’t we?” Leia asked, winking at four-year-old Ben. “I have everything ready for two days of nothing but joy.” “With Trammi ice-cream?” the little boy asked and never noticed how Leia and her brother exchanged a quick glance. Ben surely had inherited his father’s love for chocolate, that much was evident. “Well, how about we say goodbye to your parents and go look if we have Trammistan ice-cream in the kitchen?” Leia reached for the goodie back in Luke’s hand and they all waited while Ben was both eager and reluctant to see his parents off: the thought of chocolate ice-cream was one thing, his separation anxiety another. Eventually, though, Ben’s curiosity got the upper hand, and he was running to the refrigerator before Leia had even closed the door behind her brother and sister-in-law. 

The rest of the late afternoon, the pair spent eating as much sweets as a “healthy” diet for a boy his age would allow, watching childish holo-vids, and giggling over ridiculous jokes. In many ways, he reminded Leia of a younger Jacen: curious, babbly, with a smug grin behind his every word. She missed the time when her own children had been so little, and wished there was a way to turn back time to see more of their precious toddler years - and she prayed for Luke and Mara to enjoy every second of Ben’s, too.

Eventually, of course, little Ben grew tired of just sitting on the couch and the multitude of snuggling, and Leia moved to one of the other activities she had prepared for a weekend with her nephew. Han, too, had a couple of things he wanted to do once he was home, and Leia could not wait to see the excitement on Ben’s face when he broke the news to him - after all, not everyone got the chance for some piloting lessons with the renowned star pilot of the Rebellion. Besides, she knew that Ben had been begging his father to be taken along in a ride in the X-Wing, but the starship was hardly big enough for a single pilot and his gear, and naturally not safe enough for a pilot and his curious son.Leia settled her nephew down on the kitchen table with a cup of hot chocolate and some fingerpaints, remembering fondly the pride she had felt within her heart whenever Winter had shown her works of her children. She wondered what Ben might settle on to draw: animals? Plants? Landscape? His family? And if the latter was bound to happen, would she and Han, Jacen and Jaina be included? Leia found herself blushing at the thought, and intended to simply sit by and watch before Ben pointed at her lavender blouse, grinning: “You got some ‘cream on there.” Looking down, Leia found he was actually right - somehow, she had managed to get one of the few blouses that never were an easy wash dirty enough to face the challenge again - and quick at that. The longer it had time to dry, the worse it would eventually get. Usually, one would use a droid to do simple household chores like these, but Leia and Han had refrained from buying one. Threepio could handle a lot of things, but Leia personally preferred doing certain things herself. Maybe, after years of being surrounded by aides, protocol droids and politicians of all kind, she enjoyed the simplicity of having nothing but herself, her husband, and her apartment to worry about when the kids weren’t home. “Alright, you got me there,” she said to Ben, still smiling. “I’ll go give this a quick rinse and get myself some fresh clothes.” “Okay.”  Ben said, focusing on the crafting material in front of him again. She was almost out of the door when she heard him ask: “What’s your favorite color?” “Purple,” she responded quickly, a victorious smile on her face.

Deeming it ridiculous to only wash her blouse, Leia quickly collected other clothes that could use a gentle washing - one of her older dresses, Han’s classic leather jacket - she sighed, holding it in her hands for a couple of seconds too long for it to be an ordinary glance, then moved to her own wardrobe, opening the topmost drawer that revealed a similar one, just in a smaller size, the one they’d gotten Anakin for his sixteenth birthday. Choosing to keep it, and deciding to let go of most of his other clothes, had been one of the hardest things Leia had ever been forced to do. Part of her had clung to the idea that she had to keep all of it, that all of it was important, that she couldn’t hand away what little was left - and yet she knew in doing that, she would only ever have tried to escape the inevitable truth that he was not coming back. Instead, she’d kept his jacket and his flight suit, where, right below the patch that showed his name, someone had taken the time to stitch his call sign, Little Brother on it. And ever since storing these two items in her wardrobe, all they had been doing was slowly collect dust. Leia sighed, picked up the jacket, and decided she might as well get it rinsed, too. As she carried the clothes down the hallway, she could hear Ben calling: “Auntie Leia? Why is there no red? I can’t make purple without red.” “Was there no red box somewhere? Or a purple one?”, she called back, peeking into the living room where Ben inspected the boxes. “No. There’s just yellow, ‘n green, ‘n blue, ‘n orange ‘n black and -” “And a purple,” Leia pointed out gently. “Yeah, but it’s not pretty.” Leia pressed her lips together. As much as she wanted to disagree, Ben did have a point. It surely wasn’t the greatest shade of purple. On the other hand, she had no idea where the red color box could’ve possibly ended up? She sat her laundry on the counter, and tried to rethink the process of both unpacking and preparing everything for Ben. If she hadn’t left it in the cardboard box that it came in - “Eww!” Ben’s sudden exclamation was accompanied by a splashing sound, and as she turned around, Leia found her nephew jumping queasily, clothes covered in the goopy, drippy mass that was a mixture of thick paint and water. Seeing her perplexed expression, Ben immediately blurted an apology. “I didn’t see the cup was that close, I promise!” Snapping into her parental mindset in an instinct, Leia immediately shook her head, rushing to pluck her nephew from the ground, calling after Threepio to try and wipe the counters so that it’d at least stop dripping. Meanwhile, she sampled a new pair of matching shirt and trousers from Luke’s bag, and had Ben cleaned up and in equally fresh clothes within ten minutes. “‘m really sorry I made a mess,” he said. “I can help clean up, if you want.” “You needn’t worry, young Master. I have dealt with most of it already,” Threepio reassured, then his photoreceptors lifted as he looked at Leia. “I am however sad to report that Master Solo’s jacket might be in need of a more professional cleaning than our current equipment can.” Ben squirmed in Leia’s hold. “‘s Uncle Han gonna be mad with me?” “No,” Leia said gently. “No he won’t.” He wouldn’t, because it wasn’t his jacket, neatly packed in the middle of the stack, that took the brunt of it. Leia found herself surprisingly calm, refilling Ben’s water and waiting until he reluctantly, although with no less enthusiasm than before, went back to his crafts project. Then, and only then, Leia savored the clothes, trying not to flinch at the sagging of the fabric.

Returning home, Han found his nephew waving with a purple palm, his wife nowhere in sight. Upon questioning, Ben blurted an apology for ruining his uncle's jacket (to which Han could only frown) and explained that he hadn’t seen Leia in half-an-hour, ever since she’d vanished to the refreshing unit. Cautiously knocking at the door, he was equally surprised and confused about Leia's quick response: “I’m fine.” “That’s… not quite what I asked,” Han chuckled. “Ben told me what happened. If you’re afraid I’m gonna be mad about the jacket, I can assure you there’s very little in terms of clothing I’m actually really attached to. So, you know, as long as you don’t happen to have my ‘It’s a both’ cap in there, I think I can handle.” He heard her sigh, then a clicking noise unlocked the door, the panel slowly moving aside until he could see her standing over the tub, face already turned back away from him. “It’s not your jacket,” she explained, and furiously rubbed the soap bar over whatever other piece of brown fabric she still held in hand. “It’s Anakin’s.” Momentarily taken aback, unable to think of appropriate words, Han simply rested a hand on her shoulder, which only caused her to start scrubbing harder. “It’s a leather jacket. I could easily wipe all that stuff from the outside, but it just drenched through the insides. There’s a big green spot that’s just not coming off, and he surely can’t wear it this way.” Han felt her tense under his touch, and knew without looking that they were both blinking back tears. Spotless or not, Anakin would no longer wear it. “I’m sorry,” Leia finally rested the jacket on the edge of the tub, and turned to face her husband. “I know it’s silly. I know he’ll never get to wear it again. I know that for collecting dust in my wardrobe it doesn’t matter if there’s finger paint on it or not, but —” she broke off, simply falling into Han’s already waiting arms, pressing her face against his chest until his heartbeat muffled her own thoughts. “I get it,” he whispered, meaning it. Looking back, a younger Han Solo surely wouldn’t have seen it happening, but he had started to find peace in such small remembrances, whether it was Chewie’s old toolsets and personalized equipment, or the hidden short dial in the Falcon’s controls that’d replay an old voice-message Anakin had sent to his parents from Yavin years prior. It was a nice way to hold onto those people that had drifted behind his reach. “And I know someone who might be able to help us. Old friend. Proficient in different types of laundering.” Leia sniffed, but chuckled mildly. “You think he can deal with that?” “Well, there’s three options. First, he gets it all nice and clean, which would be great. Second, he fails to get it off, and given how much Anakin loved his cousin, I think he would’ve worn that with pride either way - well, and if said friend messes up - let's say I’m not hiding a fully charged blaster at my belt for no reason.” “You wouldn’t dare,” Leia returned, and as she looked up, he was relieved to find that somewhat of a smile had crept back on her face. “Well, he better not test me on that.”

[legendssaga]

Behind the Scenes

Will be a short series with me sharing occasional thoughts of scenes that were left out of the EU timeline, mostly because including them would've been too depressing. Today's episode:

Cleaning up

After the battle's calmed down, Lando has a repair crew fixing the ship, opening a door he hadn't opened since Han's & Leia's world was shaken to the core. Assessing the damage to the electrical wiring and equipment, one of the crewman turns around. "Assassination attempt?" And Lando simply shakes his head. "A father discovering he's lost a son to the war."

[legendssaga]

The Sacrifices we made

I wrote this for @jainadurron, and we both want the people who keep saying that "Han wasn't as sad about Anakin as he was about Chewie" to take a hint and understand this very basic concept of his character that Denning established in Star by Star. Now sit down and read what might be, admittedly, my very last fic on the "Solos grieving Anakin" trope.

27 ABY  - Before

Bad. Mentally, Han Solo prepared for the worst. It surely hadn’t been the first time Anakin got injured on an adventure - he could still vividly recall the horror he had experienced when Luke mentioned the boy had come face to face with a Krayt Dragon, and yet, this time it was different. This time he came face to face with enemies even trained Jedi Master Luke has had trouble defeating. Enemies he, the twins, and a bunch of other Jedi trainees tried defeating in their home arena, with help and support outside the small strike team virtually nonexistent - and he had seen in the solemn expressions of the other Jedi that the strike team had already faced several losses within the first day of their mission.

He wondered how the twins were faring at this very moment. The three of them together, supporting and protecting one another, was what kept Han remotely sane: as long as they had each other, they would make it out somehow, because they always had. 

Nonetheless, he was undoubtedly on edge, readying his ship for - he didn’t know what for, but he was preparing for any sort of potential crazy maneuver, even though he rationally knew the kids had to fight their way back - it had been in a one way trip, and any rescue from an outside-point would only get the wanna-be supporters killed.

He heard a tiny voice in his mind whisper “then why did you let them go?” and gritted his teeth. "Because I know they’ll come back." 

Or did he? He’d thought the same about Chewbacca, yet here he was - with Leia as his copilot, and a hole in his heart that could never be filled.

He refused to think about how much deeper a loss of his children would cut, as even just the existing possibility rendered him paralyzed from terror, and he didn’t like the thought.

Parents don’t outlive their children, especially not their Jedi children.

Han Solo might not trust the Force, but he decided to trust his gut on this.

27 ABY - After

Han found himself appreciating and regretting his previous naivety all at once. He looked down, finding Leia curled up at his side, where persistent tear streaks had wettened the fabric of the blanket he’d wrapped her in. Their evening had been horrendous, to say the least, and the only thing that had eased Leia’s anguish and made her calm enough to take the first proper breath in hours, was the medication the medical droid had eventually slipped her. Meanwhile, Lando had offered to take care of little Ben for the time being, and Han appreciated the sentiment, although it did have the nasty side effect of leaving him alone with his thoughts and feelings - or the lack thereof, with an ache so incomprehensibly deep and scarring that it didn’t quite fully reach his consciousness. Instead, ever since he’d settled Leia to sleep, the most solid evidence of his heartache was the void growing inside him, and the tears that streamed down his face no matter how much he had tried blinking them away. Eventually, he just let them be, realizing the act was in vain.

He pulled himself up, stumbling from their sleeping quarters down into the main area to look for something to drink, overcome by a sudden urge to simply down a bottle of Lando’s finest brandy until he could just forget - spent another precious minutes with the hopeful thought of reunification with Anakin, and the cocky security that as long as the kids had each other, everything would be fine.

But then, the sight of the bottle left him nauseated and mortified. Each and everything had started with his wish to drown the truth. Maybe, if he hadn’t done it, if he’d acted like the adult he was supposed to be - maybe Anakin wouldn’t have been so eager to settle things himself, make amends for his failures- failures which had never existed, which had only ever been imprinted on him by Han’s utter inability to handle his pain.

And Anakin had paid the price.

Noticing his vision blurr, Han barely managed to reach for the sink, spending the next few minutes trying to catch his own breath between sobs. It was apparent that the universe had made a mistake, and he had no idea how to fix it. He couldn’t go back, not to Sernpidal, not even a few days back, pending the votes in favor of a reckless mission. A reckless mission that could cost not just Anakin’s, but the twins’ life, too, because he knew no matter how much they might fight, and how preoccupied they’d been in recent days with other things, the twins had always loved and feverishly protected their little brother. He didn’t dare imagining the kind of scenario that could’ve ever led to this gruesome twist of destiny. 

Catching a break when his thoughts started swirling so violently that he failed to make sense of them any longer, Han found himself mindlessly filling a cup of water, drinking it, and then drowning in a mixture of a sob and a laugh when he reflected that the empty cup was a perfect representation of how he felt inside.

He filled it once more, then managed to settle on the couch, fingers tracing the rim of the glass. It reminded him dearly of the time when the kids were young, hidden away on Anoth on one of Luke’s very many hunches that turned out to be a well-considered but needless measure of protection, robbing him and Leia of precious hours with them. Would Luke have made the suggestion if he had known how little time they actually had? How many good-night stories had been delivered by Winter or Threepio, rather than him and Leia? How many chances of snuggling on the couch and watching a silly holo-drama? It was nothing he ever dreamed of wanting, and now his mind itched to have relaxed family nights in an ordinary home among ordinary people over an adventure on any day. They had pulled the kids into this, hadn’t they? By the way they had been brought up, he should’ve expected them to be roaming around digging their head into one mess at a time. Just that he, Leia and Luke, however bruised, injured or frozen they’d ended up, always clawed their way back to life. He never saw the glass flying, but he surely heard the impact when it shattered on the durasteel wall, breaking into a dozen little pieces. Some of them he knew he could repair. Some of them were large enough to be picked up and perhaps, with enough time and effort, be pieced back together. Others, however, smaller pieces, those that had shattered into crystalline fragments, invisible to the naked eye, would forever remain imprinted in the material, virtually lost to the world, a reminder of a present that had ceased existing.

Somehow, Han found it within himself to get up and look for Leia, scolding himself for how his grief-driven rage could’ve woken her up - she deserved the bliss of night for a little longer, even if the heartache would return as early as the new morning, when a happy dream would be ripped apart by reality. He leaned against the doorframe, wiping his eyes, marveling at the strength with which she had carried herself through her whole life, and how she’d managed to carry him through shared pain after they had lost Chewie, as if the weight had lasted any less on her own shoulders.

This was his burden to carry now, and he knew of the price he was paying. He knew of the holo-journalists and passerbys, old friends and acquaintances, maybe people closer to him, those who should know better, who hopefully would know better… better than to assume he swallowed his grief because he ached any less than his wife. He swallowed it, for it threatened to consume him otherwise, and Leia couldn’t handle yet another loss. Their relationship and marriage had started on the wrong foot, and he aimed to get the record straight, even if that meant suffering his loss in silence for as long as it would need to pick up all the lost pieces, and rebuilt something that resembled an ironic, misfortunate new “normalcy”, while he’d always yearn for what was lost in the process. There was one soothing thing about it, at least: from the bottom of his heart right to the top, Han knew it’s what Anakin would have wanted him to do. And that was motivation enough to keep going. But not tonight.

Tonight, he’d sit on the old couch in utter darkness and silence, contemplating all everything that was meant to be and never took place. Questioning whether the twins were alright, whether they’d return home to them. Questioning whether Anakin had to suffer in his final moments, or if at least, with a cynical gruesomeness, the Force had granted him some mercy. There was no way of knowing. There was only hope.

[legendssaga]

It's Uncle Wedge (Antilles)

@antilles-school-of-leadership inspired me to write this. Enjoy! Wedge hardly managed to catch a glimpse of the apartment's interior, let alone say "Hello" to Winter before two heavy weights smacked against his legs, and tiny arms stretched upward - demanding Uncle Wedge's full attention.

He threw a quick smile in Winter's direction, then scooped up four-year-old Jaina and, with considerable additional effort, her little brother, too. Luckily enough, Jacen wasn’t currently in sight - he would not have to face the embashment of no longer being able to lift all three kids at once.

"Look who we have here," he said, putting up a perplexed expression. "You two are looking all grown-up." Jaina rolled her eyes but giggled, whereas Anakin, oblivious to the exaggeration, swelled with pride. "Hey, you two. Where's your brother?"

Jaina sighed in almost terrifying exasperation. "Dunno. 'n I don't care."

Throwing a sideways glance at Winter, the woman clarified: "He spilled her milk at lunch. It was the last we had, and she hasn't been talking to him since, even though," Winter turned to the girl in question, "your brother immediately apologized and Anakin even gave you his milk so you wouldn't be sad."

"But I told him not to put his cup next to mine," Jaina pouted.

"And I told you not to have a snack before Wedge's here, and now look at you."

Jaina's eyes widened. "I didn't have a snack."

Wedge couldn't contain his laughter anymore. Obviously, Jaina had put considerable effort in hiding her rebellious behavior, but the tinge of blue from the tiny cream cakes had shaped an undeniable rim around the girl's lower lip. "Okay,” he suggested. “How about this: you go find out where Jacen is and forgive him for his little accident. And then we all meet at the living room for presents."

The lookout of having to apologize to Jacen had not been very convincing, but the prospect of presents surely had, relieving Wedge, luckily, of some weight.

"You don't happen to have a present for me, do you?" Winter asked quietly.

"Just my most humble and deepest respect. And some good ale we can share with Tycho when he's back."

"I don't even know what I like most."

Wedge raised an eyebrow. "I bet you do."

"Yeah, I do," Winter returned, and they both laughed.

Seconds later, the twins trotted into the living room, and Wedge settled Anakin on the couch to make space for his other nephew, now warmed up and just as energetic as his sister. "You've been gone forever," Jacen emphasized. "I missed you."

"I missed y'all too. But I thought of you while I was away," Wedge eased, finally retrieving the presents from his backpack, a little cage up top, inhabiting a tiny, purple beetle of a species with a complex name that had already gone past Wedge. However, that did not take away from Jacen's excitement. He knew exactly what it was, already scooting off to see if it'd eat from his hand if he tried. Anakin received a puzzle box that the vendor had insisted was way too difficult for toddlers, but by the way the kid's eyes lit up, Wedge knew he had made the right choice in ignoring the advice. Jaina's present, being the largest of all, came last.

"I had to sneak this by Admiral Ackbar, but I got just what you wanted-"

"The helmet!" Jaina squealed in delight. She'd often begged her father for a signed piece of pilot's gear from him. Solo had only begrudgingly revealed the request when Wedge had inquired what to possibly get for the kids.

"I didn't get to sign it yet, but if you hand me a marker —" Wedge remarked, watching the girl inspect her newest possession. Jaina halted.

"Why would you sign it?"

Wedge raised his eyebrows. "Shouldn't I? You said you wanted my signature on it."

Jaina giggled. "Not you. The one from Rogue Squadron. Wedge Antilles. "

Winter pressed her hand against her mouth to keep herself from laughing. She had long suspected that Jaina never concluded one of her mom's closest friends was the same impressive starfighter pilot she looked up to, but now her suspicions had been proven correct.

Utterly confused, Wedge asked "Jaina, what do you think I do for a living?"

"Piloting."

"Do you know which craft?"

"X-Wings," Jaina answered dutifully.

"Do you know what fighters Rogue Squadron uses?"

"X-Wings, usually," the girl turned her attention back to the helmet.

"So, I'm a pilot named Wedge Antilles, who pilots an X-Wing -"

"Yeah, but not in Rogue Squadron," Jaina returned with obvious impatience.

"Why not?"

"Because you're Uncle Wedge."

A puff of air interrupted the stunned silence, followed by a cough as Winter stifled her laugh.

"What about your Uncle Luke? You do know he's Luke Skywalker, right? The one who blew up the Death Star?"

"Uh-huh. Every kid knows that," Jaina said matter-of-factly.

"See? And I'm Uncle Wedge. Antilles. The one from Rogue Squadron." He rummaged in his back until he found the shirt bearing the insignia, presenting it to his niece-by-heart. Jaina's eyes widened.

"No way," she breathed.

"It's true," Winter came to Wedge's aid. "So if you do want a signature, now's your chance."

Wedge didn't know whether to laugh or to feel a cut in his ego when Jaina took a moment of consideration, then nodded eagerly, watching her Uncle with newfound admiration.

[legendssaga]

Don’t let them take the memories

PS: I wrote this yesterday because our lovely EU Discord gave me all the reasons I needed. “The days are light and joyful, the sun touching the hills, Painting pictures, above and beyond, until the suns are setting. The night however, has the longest stride. Beware of the night, for it brings terror beyond your imagination. Beware of the night, because you can’t run while you sleep.” As a child, it had never really made sense to Leia for adults to read make-shift poetry that had no beauty, that carried nothing but darkness. She had never understood her father’s joy in works like these. For a man who went through so much suffering, indulging in more just seemed wrong. Only as an adult, Leia had come to embrace the truth: That, when you become older, when you live through the unimaginable, you seek for anything that describes your pain, because there are simply no words inside you. In broad daylight, she was Leia Organa Solo. The woman that had yet again majorly impacted the turn of events in regards to the Yuuzhan Vong crisis. The woman whose brother and children were cheered at as the new heroes of a new time, as if the galaxy assumed they could rid themselves of the guilt for selling out the Jedi if their hymns of praise were loud enough. During the nights, she was no one but a mother who had lost her youngest child. No one but a woman whose screams would wake up her husband, if he’d managed to fall asleep at all. He’d wrap his arms around her then, lulling her in the comfortable warmth of his embrace, but both of them, she knew, were thinking of how much they wished it was Anakin they were holding, and while tears silently made their way down her cheeks, she could feel a wetness in her hair, too, remnants of tears that Han hadn’t been quick enough to hold back. At some point, he’d have calmed himself down, and would try to find a way to calm her, too, even if it was just laying there in silence until the hitching in her breath had eased. And then, in the typical Solo manner, he said the most hilarious and stupid things that mostly happened to be at the top of his mind. “You smell astounding, princess. Nothing like home.” “The corners of Correlia you’ve been, smell like dirt, sweat, and decay, honey.” “See?” Even in the darkness, she could see his cocky grin. “Nothing like home. More like the cantinas. The nice ones.” “The nice ones?” Leia eased herself out of his grip and turned to face him, although she did catch herself noticing the lack of full sleep attire in the dim light. “Fine drinks, enjoyable company. The nicest places in the galaxy. In fact,” he pulled himself up, bringing his face closer to hers until their lips were almost touching, “I would say you literally are the nicest place in the galaxy.” “Lovely,” Leia retorted, kissing him softly. “A little sloppy, but overall, a nice try.” She smiled, and still felt it fade within the next seconds. It had gotten easier to joke with all the time passing, but it also felt wrong. And she wanted it to be right, or at least unbelievable, like her parents death still seemed, so unthinkable that it simply could not be true. In a way, Leia considered, she wanted to either forget the harsh truth, or suffer because it was the only sense of reminiscence the galaxy offered her. “It’s all gone, isn’t it?” Next to her, Han blinked, trying to process the sudden change in both tones and topics. He fell back into the cushions, and offered Leia a nice place to settle on his chest while his hands nestled carefully through her hair in an offer of comfort. “Not everything,” he tried to offer, but it seemed meaningless even to him. Anakin’s lightsaber was buried, only the core sitting in a small case in Leia’s office desk. The holos, recordings, old baby clothings - all of it destroyed when the Yuuzhan Vong had come shaping the world to their liking. All that was left was what little personal belongings Anakin had left at the Errant Venture. But those consisted of items that had helped Anakin reminisce. His comms, gifts from his parents or siblings for birthday’s or other celebrations, and a small bracelet that Tahiri made the first time Anakin went on vacation with his parents after they’d met at the Academy. “It feels like they took everything that counts.” Him, she added mentally, with an inaudible sob. They took him. “Hey -”, she could feel Han shake his head. “They won’t take our memories. I won’t let anyone touch those.” His anger and despair suddenly, unexpectedly, turned into laughter. “You remember when he was little, he’d always wave his hands after he did something we told him not to do. I always wondered if he’d hoped to shift our memories so we’d just forget.” The memory did indeed bring an honest smile to Leia’s lips. Granted, for all his lack or dislike of verbal speech, Anakin had a tendency for having a rather expressive body language ever since he was born. “He did it when he was rather grumpy, too. Like when we first brought the twins to meet him.” Han rubbed his forehead, as if the stress of those moments suddenly reappeared.

The image had been pricelessly cute, with two toddlers, staring with a mixture of joy and threat at a tiny human being. They’d met him after the first week back at home, and after he’s had a good feed, because Leia had learned rather quickly that a hungry Anakin was a very grumpy baby. Han had spent the meantime seating the twins on the couch in the living room, both dressed in matching shirts and trousers reading “best big sister” (or, in Jacen’s case, “best big brother”), all being a gift from Chewie in return for Han buying him a cap that said “best furry uncle”. Across the rooms, she’d heard her husband patiently explain how fragile and tired their little brother was, not knowing that the twins were already hyper-aware of the emotions of the new life. Matter of factly, Han had also told Jaina, who had been in a very sensory-seeking phase, that they should not poke Anakin while he was still sleeping. Give or take, what little fine motor control the twins had at that time basically defined every kind of touch as poking. Minutes later, Leia had carefully carried Anakin over and rested him between the twins, repeating and emphasizing their father’s words again. Yet, with the stubbornness of a pregnant tauntaun, Jaina had proceeded, while directly staring into her father’s face, to basically squish Anakin’s cheeks and giggling mischievously. As expected, little Anakin hadn’t taken it fairly well, pulled from his well deserved post-snack nap. And then, in a moment that’d burn in Han’s and Leia’s consciousness as the knowledge of having three under three, his pitiful little cries had startled the twins, and the wave of unnamable and inexpressible frustration brought them to tears, too. Calming them down, from all that Leia could recall, took the entire afternoon. In silence, both Solos smiled, and for the first time during the night, Leia truly, truly felt content, snuggling herself closer until she could hear her husband’s heart beating. “You have to promise me you won’t.” “Won’t what?” “Won’t let anyone take these memories.”

[legendssaga]

Rereading Heir to the Empire, and remembering the programming they did to make Threepio sound like Leia..

Now all I can think about is Han using this trick and the help of mechanics to hear Anakin’s voice (and later Jacen’s), just once in a while. Just to never forget how they sounded

[legendssaga]

The Reminiscence Cruise

I wrote a new story and yes it’s about Anakin (and Jacen) and grief, but if you’ve grown annoyed at my writing only this theme for ages, I think you should give this piece a chance either way. https://archiveofourown.org/works/38253388

[legendssaga]

The little things

[This has been on my mind for so long, and thanks to @twinsleader I finally felt motivated to write it down]

Jaina Solo Fel experienced an ordinary day. However, it refused to feel like an ordinary day. A feeling was nagging at her tightly, but she could neither grasp nor name it properly. For a moment she assumed to have cold feet, but that usually happened before a wedding. Besides, if there’s one thing in the mess of the past few years that she had no sense of regretting, it was picking Jag to walk at her side.

He was sleeping still, snoring lightly (although he insisted he wouldn’t, as only elder men start snoring), so she decided to keep him company for a little longer, snuggling onto his chest. Even in his sleep, he subconsciously started tracing lines across her back, soothing her for the time being.

But the feeling refused to vanish, despite her silent begging. Her twin brother‘s death followed her like a dark shadow still, imprints of guilt that wouldn’t truly vanish, despite knowing of his forgiveness. Jacen might’ve forgiven her, but she had a long road to go to live with the thought of surviving without someone that should’ve been at her side from beginning to end. This new feeling was different, and even though she couldn’t say anything else, she knew it had nothing to do with her older brother‘s death.

Eventually, the restlessness drove her away from Jag, tucking a few clothes under her arms and getting dressed in the main area of their living space. It was a temporary thing and in fitting condition, but she and Jag both agreed that the skyline was awful. Which, of course, is no surprise, seeing how often she just admired the sight of Coruscant.

She made herself a rather spare breakfast, promising herself she’d do some more once her husband was awake (quietly smiling at the thought of him being her spouse) and listlessly skimmed through the news recordings before settling on a mindless holo soap-opera.

And then it hit her, full force, the moment her mind started working up the details of what she’d just read. The date.

Anakin‘s birthday.

But not just any of the birthdays that she previously had survived, hating the galaxy for taking Anakin the ability to celebrate it for himself.

Technically, her brother would turn 34 today, which was impossible to think of in itself.

But that also marked the seventeenth birthday she was spending without him. More birthdays than she ever got lucky enough to celebrate with him. And she hadn’t even thought about it. In fact, with her wedding and Jag handing over his role as head of state, she’d been too busy to remember.

She took a deep breath, trying to settle herself like all the other times grief threatened to overwhelm her, but despite her practice, today that seemed nearly impossible.

"You look astonishing. With and without clothes." The salacious joke passed Jag‘s lips without effort, but he immediately dropped the humor the moment he saw his wife‘s expression.

"What’s wrong?"

She meant to lie, but wanted someone to tell her she wasn’t a horrible person for almost forgetting a day that she’d sworn to keep in mind, even after.

"It’s his birthday. It would be."

Jag crossed the few inches between them with practiced ease, settling next to her.

"Would be his 34th. You know. If the Force didn’t decide that 16 was enough of a lifetime." The next words simply burst out of her: "I’ve officially lived most of my life without him." They were meant to come off dryly, but even Jaina could only prevent emotions from boiling so long. She rested her head on Jag‘s shoulder, nestling her face in his neck to hide the tears. He kept holding her like this, not forcing her to say more even though he knew somethings were still inside of her.

"I wish Coruscant never fell. That was all memories. Holo‘s, our belongings..." she mentioned later on, Jag simply nodding. "And I envy Winter. So much. Her memories never fade. Mine do. Have done. And it feels like I’m slowly loosing track of him. For Jacen.. I at least have some more recordings. Not like I wanna look at them-" because it hurts too much "...but I have them. And Allana, obviously."

Jag smirked. "She’s a crystal copy."

"I guess I’m afraid of forgetting. To dishonor Anakin‘s memory."

"You know that’ll never happen."

"I’m not Tahiri," Jaina remarked.

"As much as I appreciate her, I appreciate that, too."

"She’s keeping the memory alive. That orchid from Yavin that she planted next to his memorial... that still grows, and it shouldn’t do in a vegetation so different. She brings something new every year."

"But that’s not the only thing to do to keep a memory alive." Jag remarked. "I get it. My mom is all for the small in the little things, too. Every year at their birthdays, she washes the old clothes that she never had the heart to throw away. She cleans and folds them by hand. That’s her thing. Every year, no matter the chaos around."

Jag shrugs. "I’ve never felt the need to do that. I have Davin‘s old watch - which I know doesn’t work anymore," he points at his right wrist, "one of Chak’s old helmets as my lucky charm - and you know where I keep the cheesy bracelets Cherith made when she was younger."

Jaina chuckles mildly.

"The thing is... keeping memories alive is as much about the little things as it can be about the big things. Like doing something you know they would’ve wanted you to. I swear, every time I let my gut instincts take over, I can almost hear Davin cheer in excitement. And I bet my life there’s something you do every single day that’d make your brother absolutely proud."

"You mean like surviving?"

"And thriving, hopefully. Yeah. And for all I remember, he actually told y’all to do so."

"Just because he cannot fathom how hard that is."

"Surely not. But you can try. We can all try."

[legendssaga]

Windows and Tears

This is a belated tiny Christmas present to @twinsleader

“Don’t cry.”

Jaina sighed, feeling the last bit of energy drain with every gut-wrenching scream of barely a month-old Davin. It was as useless as trying to get a krayt-dragon to dance, but she was running out of ideas.

Jag, sitting next to her, gently massaging her shoulders, simply whispered:

“Isn’t there a Force trick for that?”

She was about to snarl a remark before she realized that her husband might actually be right. Closing her eyes and letting the Force wash over her refreshingly, she reached out, gently probing her son’s mind. She came with no intention of altering or manipulating, just the wish to be a respectful observer.

Feelings flooded her, colors, the lights of the world in a near-sighted little being. The experience seemed unbelievable, but she started realizing it’s familiarity. Years ago, longer than a lifetime for many, she had been the young infant that was calmed by a mother’s nurturing love, and her inherent understanding of her wants and needs.

And the wants, sometimes, were ever so simple as a smell hanging in the air that tickled ones nose badly.

“Hold him.” She urged, resting Davin safely in Jag’s hold, the tiny head fitting comfortably in the strong arms. As she went to open the windows of their small apartment wide, Jaina grinned to herself.

Davin had been their little miracle, born in a time of turbulence - and yet the greatest gift they could’ve hoped for. Named after Jag’s older brother, he clearly came more after the Fels, with dark hair except for the little flock of white in the front. But the nose - that was her Leia’s genes, without question.

Both father and mother watched in awe as Davin started calming, lips now only quivering as the bright blue eyes of infants looked up at their father, fingers curling reflexively around the little Pyjama he was dressed in, an X-Wing printed on the front. Clearly a gift from Wedge, although Jaina could swear he and Tycho both had a blast picking it out.

“This could’ve given us hours of precious sleep.” Jag remarked, nodding towards the open window, not turning his gaze away from the baby.

“Yeah. But this gives us precious hours of snuggling, so I think it’s a fair deal.”

[legendssaga]

How the Millennium Falcon got renamed.

Jaina painted lazily, holding the pen in such a tight grip that Tycho feared it would break, but only the deep intense colors seemed to satisfy three year old Jaina. Maybe she was also expressing her frustration over not being able to go to the pool yet, as her twin brother Jacen had managed to cut himself with a sharp tool, trying to prepare a present for Winter. Now, Tycho was here eying Jaina while Winter was patching up the boy.

Admittedly, Tycho was getting bored too, so he toyed around with the spaceship replicas, surprised to find Jaina say: “It’s a Y-wing!”

He grinned, putting the girls knowledge to the test and picking another miniature version from the table.

“What about this one?”

“Bomber.”, the girl said happily, eyes wide as she disengaged from drawing, “TIE Bomber.”

They continued this little game of theirs until Tycho discovered the most unique figure on the table, a miniature replica of the Millennium Falcon, which made Jaina delightfully squeal:

“Daddy!”

“A moment for the books and you didn’t record. Pray that Han forgives you.” Winter remarked chuckling, leaning against the doorframe with Jacen at her side. Eyeing the remaining two kids, she asked:

“Alright. Who’s ready for the pool?”

[legendssaga]

As Jacen stood next to Allana’s crib, a nightmare having stolen his sleep again, he couldn’t help but feel emotions surge over him, making him drown in happiness and sorrow all at once.

As Tenel Ka checks on him, he manages to explain that somehow children in the family history always bring both light and darkness. Bail and Breha never got to see her daughter marrying and living happily with her husband and three children. Chewbacca never got to see young Ben - and Anakin would never get to see Allana, let alone did he live long enough to grow a family of his own.

“Sometimes I just wonder if he knew how much he gave up on.”

And Tenel Ka smiles softly at him, then at their daughter.

“I think he knew what could be gained. And that was enough.”

[legendssaga]

How the Falcon replica came to action

Han found himself staring at the holo image of his daughter Jaina, caught between a frown and a grin. He and Chewie had paid a fortune in order to fund a very detailed replica of the millennium Falcon in a size that would not be a choking hazard for a two year old, but still considered a collectable. This was one of the rare times ever protective Winter had specifically put them out to play with, and Jaina had taken this very literally. After eyeing it for a couple of seconds, she’d taken the arm length miniature and -

Pressed her tiny foot against the side where the ramp was.

“What are you doing?”

Surprised of being recorded, the little girl looked up.

“Fly!”, she yelled upset, still trying to put her feet in the tiniest hole from where she’d seen to open the ramp.

Next to Han, Leia grinned, laughing eventually.

“I’m not sure if she’s a pilot at heart, or if she’s just having trouble.” He explained worriedly, seeing the matter proceed for several seconds, now with Jacen trying his best to help. Apparently, Winter was laughing too, because she had trouble holding the image straight.

“They don’t have any sense of scale yet.” Leia calmed him. “For her, it’s like this is the real Falcon, and she’s upset because she cannot understand why she doesn’t get in.”

[legendssaga]

Envy

Han found himself staring at Winter that evening. He must’ve been looking at her for some time that he was not aware passing, but a gentle clap on his shoulder drove him back to the present.

“Are you alright?” Tycho asks carefully. “Not that I don’t get you staring at my wife, given her stunning appearance,” he laughed like a teenage boy, his cheeks blushing ever so slightly, “but you might as well be in another galaxy.”

He wasn’t too far off with that remark, Han thought to himself. I’m just seeking for a galaxy without the Yuuzhan Vong.

“Long day,” he explained apologetically.

“Long year, you mean.”

And what a year it had been. From loosing his best friend and almost himself, to loosing his youngest son and have his oldest be missing in battle. From praying that Jaina would not loose herself to vengeance, to being refused vengeance for his son’s torture. The fact that Jacen had defended Vergere, in spite of everything she did to him, still sent shivers down Han’s spine.

But then, that wasn’t what had caused his earlier fallout. It was the fact that he had felt normal at the dinner table, with Winter and Tycho’s company. It had been like a normal family dinner, and he’d been oblivious of the fact that the number of chairs had been reduced by two.

His normal slowly became one that no longer included Chewbacca and Anakin on a first thought, and it terrified him. He had made peace with the knowledge of his best friend’s memory fading, knowing there were bits and pieces of old valuables and holo’s for him to cherish when he felt the need.

But the destruction of Coruscant had destroyed large fractions of memorials of Anakin. Now that his image started fading in his mind, now that his spirit became less tangible, Han was frightened he’d loose everything that was left.

He realized, at that point, that the feeling drawn to Winter was envy. Envy that her mind worked flawlessly, and that the image of Anakin and Chewie would live on within her forever.