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alliseonline · 3 years

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captured obi and the 212th going berserk trying to get him back?

Marshal Commander Cody and a few of the Ghost Company are called up the Jedi Temple when the Council first receives the message, the air and the Force around them frigid in the way nature prepares itself for the killing frost of winter. Even Anakin Skywalker, known Chosen One of the Force, feels unease when the men of the currently missing General Kenobi arrive within the Council Chambers.

Of course, holding their dear General captive is none other than the Sith pet himself, General Grievous. While there were many jokes about the cyborg’s presumed crush on the Jedi, those thoughts are now absent as the message proceeds. With their helmets off, the Jedi Council, Anakin, and Rex watch as fury climbs into the faces of the 212th, bodies tense and hands twitching for their blasters as if their rage alone were enough to kill the cyborg.

It honestly might be. Rex muses, watching Cody’s face turn to stone when Grievous slaps Kenobi. Force knows they’re not going to be merciful when they find him.

Master Windu clears his throat before addressing the men. “We’ve already traced the signal to a small planet called Ogum in the Mid Rim. General Skywalker and his men will accompany the 212th on this retrieval mission.” And in a small slip of cruelty, Windu smirks. “And if Grievious cannot be captured without lethal force, then by all means Commander, use lethal force.”

Most of the Council nods in agreement, and Rex silently laments whatever restraint Cody may have had left as a slow, harsh smile spreads across his face. The men behind him no less pleased with the permission they’ve been granted. “Of course General Windu. We will depart immediately.”

“Then you are dismissed.”

With that, all those within the Chambers that are not apart of the Council leave.

He must be pulling quite the expression for General Skywalker to pull him aside. “You good Rex? You look like when Hardcase tried to juggle those grenades in the hangar yesterday.”

“Uh, I’m fine sir.” He assured, “just thinking about how General Windu made a mistake when he offhandedly gave the 212th Attack Battalion permission to go apeshit.”

Now it was time for Anakin’s face to turn shocked. “A mistake? Why’s that?”

With that, Rex shuddered, eyes wide with the kind of horror one gets when reminded of a specific experience. “There’s a reason they’re called Ghost Company General. Kenobi’s trained those men personally- I assure you that I’m going to do my best to stay away from them once we hit the planet’s surface.” He gave his General a pointed look. “You and Commander Tano had best stay away from them too. Sith’s hell is about to be raised, and I for sure am not getting anywhere near it.”

Even on the Resolute, Anakin could only watch in muted horror as he observed form the bridge of his ship, the Negotiator pulling off moves in space that shouldn’t even be possible as they broke through the barricade around the planet. The gun and dropships pulling off evasive moves that Anakin himself wouldn’t dare to do with the men inside. Ahsoka seemed to be in agreement as they piled into one of the dropships. He mentally prayed to any Force gods and goddesses out there that the pilot didn’t get any ideas.

His Captain seemed to be doing the same. “Now you know why I told you to stay the kark out of their way.”

“They’re absolutely crazy!” Ahsoka muttered. “What are they thinking?”

Rex shook his head sagely. “Oh, I can assure you Commander, they’re not.”

By the time they reached the surface, there were barely any droids left to fight. Anakin personally saw one of the 212th’s shinies backflip off a rock and shoot three droids in midair before turn and smacking another with his blaster before running after his brothers. He saw Commander Cody nod in approval before snapping a droids head clean off with his bare hands.

Just what was Obi-Wan teaching his men?!

He nudged his Padawan, “you saw that right? It’s not just me?”

“Crystal, Skyguy.” She blocked a blaster shot and ducked underneath another one. “Do you mind if I ditch the 501st to learn whatever the kriff they’re doing?!”

And like all good Masters, he corrected her language before throwing himself back into the fray.

When they finally got to the fortress, Ghost Company was already well inside, leaving the battlefield behind them a mess of scrap metal that probably couldn’t even be recycled. “Force, they’re fast!” Anakin cried.

“You’re telling me General!” Rex growled, running after his brothers, “you didn’t have to train under Cody! Kriff, it’s no wonder he’s the Marshal Commander of the GAR!”

Anakin didn’t need to be told twice. He grimaced, following the sound of droids being absolutely decimated through the halls of the fortress. And of course, as competent as his men, Obi-Wan had already freed himself and was smiling at his men before him. It would have been a sweet scene if not for the injuries the man sported... as well as the pile of droids at his feet. Force.

The 212th General just smiled. “This certainly is a welcome party. Did you boys have fun at least? Good old game of storm the castle.”

The grin on Cody’s face was one might describe as feral as the men laughed. “Oh, you know how Mondays are General.”

One of the men, that Anakin knew would be Waxer, piped up. “Kind of upset that we couldn’t face off against Grievous! Now that would have been a challenge!” The others around him gave a cheer, the bloodthirst that had been slowly dwindling suddenly rising again at the mention of the sleemo that had captured their General.

Both him and Rex shuddered.

Ahsoka turned her wide eyes on them and asked incredulously, “they’re not serious are they?”

Rex paled and settled a hand on her shoulder. “Kid, the 212th are a bunch of crazy bastards. Like I told the General, there’s a reason that these men in particular are called Ghost Company.”

#ask #writing prompt #ask or send me anything!#prompts are open #my writing #writing #sw #tcw #Ghost Company #clones #captain rex #anakin skywalker

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misscrawfords · 4 years

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The Rise of Skywalker: Part One

I have lots of thoughts and feelings about TROS. Most of them negative. For three days I’ve been alternating between raging and crying. Finally, I’ve felt able to start writing.

This is a negative review. If you loved the film then this might not be the post for you. I am very sensitive to what happened after TLJ. And I want to reassure anyone reading that I would never turn criticism for a film (which is absolutely a valid response to seeing something that you disliked and are trying to understand) into personal attacks against the actors or creators involved or, worse still, fans who liked it. If you liked TROS, can’t bear to hear any criticism of it, and still choose to read my posts about it, then that is on you. (I really shouldn’t have to say this but this is a hellsite.)

This post contains spoilers for TROS... and Jumanji 2. Go figure.

Things I liked:

· C-3PO and everything he did. This droid is the character I identify with most in the entire SW series (which probably says some uncomfortable things about me but this is not the time!) and he had such a big and important role and his quips were genuinely great and funny and I loved everything he did. Apart from – but more on that later.

· Ben Solo. Uh, other people have talked about his little shrug and his “ow” and his smile – oh god, his smile. Ben Solo is amazing. It’s a shame that – but more on that later.

· I didn’t hate Rey Palpatine. I mean, I literally wrote this story when I was 13 when I made Hermione Voldemort’s daughter as a way of explaining her inner darkness and had her team up with Harry (with whom she had a telepathic bond) to destroy him. (You can read the story here if you really want to.) So it would be pretty hypocritical of me to hate this plotline. I enjoyed seeing angry, feral Rey on screen, I enjoyed seeing a female hero confronting her capacity for destruction and darkness. I was okay with the idea of a final face-off between a Palpatine and a Skywalker and how this is a way of bringing final balance to the Force. This was pretty interesting and I’d be up for this. I much prefer Rey Nobody but as a concept I’m not actually against it. Unfortunately the execution – but more on that later.

· I really enjoyed more of Finn and Poe. I love both of them as characters. I mean I can’t think of a single bit of dialogue that was meaningful between them or what they accomplished in particular for they had some fun moments.

· Finn and Jannah’s conversation about being ex-stormtroopers was a lovely scene, a moment of much-needed quiet and reflection and bonding in a film that was far too hectic and crowded. Shame it went nowhere.

· Reylo kiss? I mean, that was cool.

· Unironically, I loved Hux. He was snarky and his revelation of being the spy because he just hated Kylo that much got the biggest reaction in the cinema of the entire showing. Admittedly it was derisive laughter as we all realised what a clusterfuck of bad writing this film was, but still. It crossed over into so-bad-it’s-good territory. Hux gave me considerable pleasure in a film that otherwise made me very angry.

· My favourite scene in the film was when Rey and Kylo fought on Pasaana over the transport ship with Chewie (apparently) on and Rey blows it up. The cinematography was amazing, it was a visual representation of both balance and building on the lightsaber breaking scene in TLJ while upping the stakes considerably and Rey’s reaction of visceral horror when she realised what she had done was truly shocking and unexpected. To have Chewie killed off so suddenly like this for no reason except that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the stakes are high and this is a desperate war with casualties – genius. A perfect way to make Rey and Ben even more similar – both having killed father figures – and have Rey confront her dark side as she wrestles with what she has done and the consequences of having a non-unified relationship with Ben while also being in a position to truly empathise with him – this was exactly the content I had signed up for. But it was the moment that it was revealed that Chewie was still alive that I realised what I’d only suspected before then: that this film was terrible and I would not be able to trust any emotion it was inviting me to feel.

Fundamentally, I think that this film is incredibly poorly written and emotionally dishonest. It is telling that I saw Jumanji 2 earlier in the day and out of the two films, the only point at which I cried was when Milo decided to stay in Jumanji as a horse. Why did I cry? Because Milo and Grandpa’s relationship had been gradually built up over the course of a film that was not afraid of quiet moments and building a narrative of a relationship that revealed what it needed over the course of several meaningful scenes. It allowed Milo’s decision to stay to be both a tragic loss but also a happy ending for him. Truly bittersweet and in a way that everyone can relate to. The loss of a dear friend to illness is a horrible but human thing to contemplate. To be able to set this friend free through a metaphor of a beautiful death and afterlife is genuinely moving and hopeful. Unfortunately TROS did not manage to give me any such emotions or elicit a single tear.

At least not till afterwards. I’ve subsequently cried a lot, some of it over the tragedy of Ben and Rey in a film that promised hope, but mainly for myself and the other (mainly) young female fans who have poured all their knowledge and intelligence into analysis of TFA and TLJ and who seemed to understand the story that was being told and who had been promised more of this story in the interviews and trailers released prior to this film – and who are now feeling like absolute garbage as this film throws out its own mythology for an incoherent, self-serving mess that in many ways defies analysis. The only thing I feel really capable of analysing is how much it doesn’t work, as opposed to what the film is trying to do. Where is the symbolism? Where is the metaphor? Where is the hero’s journey? Where is the heroine’s journey? Where is nuance? Where is everything that was set up in both TFA and TLJ? IDK, I can’t see it. It’s a kick in the teeth.

So, no matter how many individual things I was able to enjoy at the time when watching TROS, they end up being meaningless because the entire film was so bad. I can’t feel pleasure thinking about the good bits because they were mired in context (or lack of it). I can’t feel genuine sorrow about the fate of Rey and Ben because the execution of that fate was so poorly done. I don’t even mind that Ben died. It was always an option and the story of redemption followed by death is a very common story, a very Christian story. Though the death of Christ to save us from our sins, is crucially followed by resurrection. I mean, literally everyone can and does die. That doesn’t make you special. If you’re going for a Christ metaphor, you kind of need resurrection too. But I’m not sure that was exactly what they were going for with it; it was a mess and the execution made little internal consistency.

It may be that if I watched the film again, my problems would be lessened and I would see new things in them and they would make sense. I’ve read some twitter threads of people who are making connections and finding explanations on a second or third viewing. But the problem is that I shouldn’t need to see a film more than once to fundamentally understand it. I don’t mean picking up on new and interesting features and subtext which a good film, like a good book, rewards you with on multiple viewings. TLJ does that. But you should be able to follow what the ultimate meaning of a film is when you see it first.

If that is the case, then the ultimate meaning of TROS is that the good are good, the bad are bad, change is rewarded with death, a character who was once alone ends up alone again, plot coherency is sacrificed for whatever explosion or cool backwards-reference is needed at the time, death is not the end except when it is, there is no cosistency and consequently no emotional impact. And apparently it is a happy and hopeful ending? The tonal disconnect with the story being told and the way it was shot and the music being played and the clear intention of the people making the film is utterly jarring.

To famously quote Macbeth:

It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

This post is already too long so I will go into my criticisms in more detail in a further post. Stay tuned!

Read Part Two here.

#tros #tros spoilers #star wars #the rise of skywalker #anti-tros

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laurlovescookies · 7 years

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The Aquitaine Princess

Tribute and follow-up ficlet to sparklight’s chapter forty in her marvelous “In Which Our Intrepid Hero Doesn’t Escape” series. (Fiercely-protective Mommy Vader wasn’t something I understood I desperately needed until I encountered it! And I love genderbent “Luca” as well. ^_^)

If you’re wondering about the title, it’s a reference to a beautiful French poem known as El Deschidado, which references an “Aquitaine prince with a destroyed tower.” Technically Luca would be a princess (though I’m not certain how comfortable she’d be with the title), hence the change.

Trigger warning for a panic attack. I don’t feel Luca is any less badass than Luke, but you’ve got to keep in mind that the poor kid’s in a seriously traumatizing situation. (Let’s hope there are some Imperial therapists available in the ranks.)

L & V are being a bit more emotional than normal, mainly because I think genderbent Luke and Vader might be a little more in-tune with their emotions (albeit Vader a smidgen more so.)

Thanks again to the very-excellent sparklight, whom is an angel, saint, and a bag of chips!

I am the Dark One, – the Widower, – the Unconsoled The Aquitaine Prince whose Tower is destroyed: My only star is dead,- and my constellated lute Bears the black Sun of Melancholia.

In the night of the Tomb, You who comforted me, Give me back Mount Posillipo and the Italian sea, The flower that my afflicted heart liked so much And the treillised vineyard where the grapevine unites with the rose.

—Excerpt from El Deschidado

-O-

"... what do you want?" Luca asked, quiet and shamefully soft, even as her back was almost painfully stiff. The hand around her wrist tightened, making the metal of the cuff dig in a little, and the other gloved hand finally rose up, not quite touching her cheek.

Foreboding gathered in her gut as she watched those starkly yellow eyes wash out into bright blue again, watched the harsh twist to Vader's mouth soften a shade.

"My daughter."

-O-

Luca had flinched at that. Partially because her stomach had rolled sickeningly and she had to take deep, shuddering breaths to keep the remaining contents of her stomach from heaving their way up. She braced a glistening palm against the wall, nearly slipping.

The hand poised over her face slowly fell. She wondered wordlessly why Vader bothered if she couldn’t actually bring herself to touch her affectionately, but the hand had hesitantly reached for Luca, as if of its own accord.

Dimly, Luca felt the writhing flare—something like a supernova—of Vader’s wintry force presence hardening, crackling as it rapidly frosted over into a pernicious arctic armor. And suddenly it seemed to be much farther away, as if Luca were looking at it through the wrong end of binoculars, though Vader’s hand still clutched her wrist so tightly she was rapidly losing feeling in it.

Luca immediately felt a hot rush of shame as she gazed up at over-bright eyes, starkly-blue embers hovering in the dark, unblinkingly watching her. Did Vader sense her revulsion?

Her next thought stepped on her question mark: Why should she care if she hurt Vader’s feelings? Insanity, it seemed was catching.

Or genetic.

Her free hand drew itself into a shaking fist, nails sinking in her palm. Uncle Owen had lied about her mother, and while she could maybe, albeit begrudgingly, understand why he had, she couldn’t help resenting him even if the feeling came with a maelstrom of guilt.

And when he and Beru had been murdered, the only person whom saved her from being crippled with grief was Ben, whom gave her what she’d wanted her whole life: The knowledge that she was meant to do something special—albeit more so than she ever could’ve guessed—and that her mother had been, too. She bit the inside of her mouth hard, and something metallic and hot flooded her mouth. Vader snapped something she heard, but didn’t understand.

Anakin Skywalker was a Jedi knight, a paradigm of strength and goodness, whom also had her life cut short by Vader. If Luca hadn’t already wanted vengeance for Beru and Owen, now it became a purpose, which had been the only thing sustaining her all this time, her friends aside. A lump rose from her chest and lodged itself in her throat.

Her grief for her mother had vapidly skyrocketed, something she hadn’t even thought possible. But Vader wasn’t anything she anticipated, the demon she’d needed him to be, and she felt pity for him—her—before Luca remembered and her contempt washed it away.

But Vader was her mother, there was no use in not accepting it, the force had no feelings and resonated the affirmation over and over again—

“Young one.”

Vader was urgently saying something else, her hand still bracing Luca’s back. Luca stared blankly at Vader’s rapidly-yellowing eyes.

Ben had to have known Darth Vader was her mother and he’d lied, just like everyone else in the galaxy so desperate to turn her into a pawn, he’d lied when Luca had no one and nothing left, not even a home. Ben wanted her to kill her mother—she shrank back from the thought as if burned, it felt traitorous. But it was true.

Now she could never trust even Ben’s memory ever again. The only person she could understand innately wasn’t lying was her mother. Her mother was alive, the sweetest and most secret hope Luca had ever cherished, but it’d devolved into a nightmare. Vader was a genocidal and vicious maniac. Nothing short of evil.

Luca probably imagined the faint tremor in Vader’s hand still clutching her wrist. Vader, whom for all Luca’s training, for all her giving everything and then some, had stolen her away as easily like a cat would a kitten, regardless of her struggles.

She let out a noise that came out both a strangled laugh and a sob. Vader was the only person whom she could innately understand wasn’t lying, and yet she in all likelihood wanted to use Luca too, her own child. Both Obi-Won and Anakin Skywalker died second deaths in that moment.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Exhale, exhale, exhale—

Her lungs plunged rapidly for air, seeming to end only at the base of her neck, not drawing nearly enough oxygen, regardless of how much she gulped for it.

Her mother’s hands grasped her shoulders as Luca’s vision blurred orange, bled red. Her mind churned in a near-indecipherable blur of terror and hysteria. Her ears rang and someone must’ve been screaming while her throat burned as if it were filling up with blood. She thrashed hopelessly in Vader’s hold, too panicked to care that there was no escape on the ship, that her wrist at this point had become a distant, stinging star of pain as the manacle dug into her skin. Why not, why not, what did it matter she didn’t care nothing mattered anymore—

“ENOUGH!”

Vader’s ear-splitting roar sliced through the air and the force; Luca’s eyes widened, freezing as Vader seized her in a too-tight hold, pinning both her arms to her sides. Still Luca struggled, and in Vader’s now-palpable concern, her icy barriers thawed and Vader’s force presence rushed to meet hers. Luca fell limp at that, and if Vader hadn’t been clutching her upright she would’ve certainly tumbled to the floor.

At first it was worse, because Vader’s mercurial force presence loomed like an enormous, blackish-red tidal wave over Luca’s, reaching for her like so many hands. Barriers flew up in Luca’s mind as she frantically retreated deeper into herself, but Vader had been using the force longer than Luca had been alive, and when she pursued the blockades were carelessly knocked aside.

A second later Vader’s mind immobilized her own in a perfectly-implacable grip, rippling with furious dark energy—the first icy jolt upon being badly burned. Luca would’ve cried out if she could’ve, bracing herself for a certain mental assault and the agony certain to go with it.

Something tentatively—tentatively?—and gently brushed against Luca’s petrified subconscious, the lightest of touches. Stunned, Luca tried to speak, but a cool energy glided over her feverish and distressed thoughts, plunging them into white background noise.

Shaking like mad, her head tilted and fell against Vader’s armor-clad shoulder.

There was a quiet hum coming from the gentle energy flowing into her. It did not quite make her calm, her heart was beating too quickly for that—but it hushed the frantic, blind energy that would’ve sent her battering herself against the ship walls. Luca’s eyes slipped shut. It wasn’t quite unlike the time she’d been slipped inside a bacta tank.

Another light caress, albeit still uncertainly so, as if Vader were frightened of her, which was absurd to the point of being hilarious. Vader’s force presence was infinitely larger than Luca’s, could’ve crushed hers into dust. But while the idea was baffling, it felt like Vader’s mind was actually cradling hers.

More likely, Luca had somehow sustained head trauma when she’d been electrocuted earlier.

Her breathing was still shuddery, but slower and deeper. Awareness returning, Luca sharply inhaled as she sensed a ring surrounding her, comprised of a black, thrashing maw of blazing toxic energy.

Alarmed, wishing desperately for hers—Vader’s—saber, Luca was shocked by the sheer fury and hatred these flames emitted, something she could dimly understand had been kindled by raw despair.

This force energy jabbed violently out, like so many knives and so much broken glass and while Luca had once scoffed at the word bloodcurdling, she could not do so now. Approaching them would be suicidal. She redoubled her efforts to be free, and Vader had only tightened her mental grip the way she had Luca’s wrist.

While unharmed by the barrier, Luca desperately wanted to shy away; the flames were comprised from malevolence, lashing out and seeking so many targets; possibly the whole galaxy. And yet, oddly enough, not at the girl they surrounded.

But the force defense was more than pure anger; there was a staggering amount of possession and protection radiating off them in waves, something near-feral in intensity and if Vader meant to harm her all along (though Luca didn’t think so) why couldn’t she get it over with?

Young one.

Vader’s voice within the force struck a rich, deep alto. No rasping, no staccato breathing, no intermittent noises from her support. Luca’s eyes flew open, startled.

You are safe.

The voice began hissing the beautiful words over and over again, and the comforting cool energy coming from Vader increased, lulling. Eyes flickering once again, Luca sagged in the gloved hold, fighting to stay conscious.

Her brow furrowed, bewildered as to why this seemed dimly familiar.

-O-

Sometimes when Luca slept she remembered something, or at least upon waking she dimly remembered recalling something, from a very, very long time ago. Before she’d been born.

In a night without stars, she was a nebulous being whom didn’t think in words. Her nascent mind wandered, eventually approaching a much larger presence than her own self.

Innately she understood without understanding how whom it was, and brushed against it curiously. At first it started in blinding-white-shock, iron-defenses shooting up before they crumbled into an intense tenderness, something tremulous. It recognized her.

The awestricken luminosity softly pressed back, with something akin to playfulness. It’d wrapped around her so tenderly and tightly she’d been happy, a profound sense of contentment and rightfulness stealing over her in their burgeoning force connection. The other used it to send peaceful waves passing over her, both of them basking in mutual adoration.

That had been the first time Luca’s consciousness encountered Anakin Skywalker’s, but it hadn’t been the last.

-O-

When Luca came back to herself, there were tears streaming silently down her face. Vader held her in a not-quite an embrace, pinning her arms, which was it was confining as much as it was comforting.

At last by unspoken agreement Luca tugged back and Vader slowly released her. The former turned to look determinedly at the wall while rubbing her face.

And she prayed that Vader couldn’t understand that her earlier revulsion was not least because a little girl from trillions and trillions of light-years miles away (but not far enough) had looked up at the dark lord’s words, was scrubbing her dirty face and scrambling to her feet, staring expectantly at the sky.

The silence between them was every part as uncomfortable as the shouting. Luca’s face burned and she couldn’t quite bring herself to look back.

However dire the situation, it was the most profoundly awkward one Luca had ever encountered. Vader seemed to feel the same, considering just how quiet she was, save for the intermittent breathing on the oxygenator.

It was childish, but Luca couldn’t help but reach out with the force towards Vader again, and for her credit was firmly pushed away. The latter’s force presence was rapidly resealing itself in its fortress.

“Will you be still now?” Vader said at last, sounding as weary as Luca felt. “Can I trust you not to harm yourself?”

Luca just nodded wearily, still wiping her eyes. Thankfully Vader didn’t see, or pretended not to. The two remained chained together, though both were looking in opposite directions of the dilapidated old ship, lost in her own thoughts.

Anakin Skywalker was still alive. Anakin Skywalker was still alive.

She mopped her face once again, took a few deep breaths.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked, not quite trusting her voice.

“My ship.” said Vader shortly, after only a moment’s hesitation. The woman’s eyes remained fixated on the windows ahead, reflecting her ruined face stricken of any color, so badly burnt that hair refused to grow. “You’ll be interned in quarters there.”

Luca felt a sharp spike of irritation. Exactly how well had Vader thought this plan through before kidnapping her? “And what, you’re going to lock me up forever, is that it?”

“Don’t tempt me,” snarled Vader, pulling at their chain. “As it stands, the idea of having you handcuffed to my person at all times has its merits.”

Luca went very hot and then very cold at that, because Vader wasn’t someone whose bluff you wanted to call.

“Please,” she tried again, her voice again reaching that painfully soft and embarrassing register. “You can’t just—“

Vader spun on her heel to face her, bluing eyes flashing.

“I can. You are safe with me, not at the beck and call of a ragtag, hypocritical army of anarchists whom will step on your throat the moment you become a liability.”

“The Alliance would never—“

“Yes, because they clearly had ‘Miss Vader’s kid’s,’ best interests at heart,” Vader scoffed, and Luca nearly had the heart knocked out of her.

It would’ve been one thing if Vader kept shouting lies in her ears—annoying, but bearable because she knew otherwise. But the moment Luca discovered her parentage the soldiers had closed in on her—

They wouldn’t have hurt me. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.

“No, you did not. But your innocence would not save you; you were culpable in being born my child.”

It sounded so awful spoken aloud, given shape. Luca had to count to ten to avoid screaming.

“I can’t turn. I can’t be like you. You have to let me go.”

“I have to do no such thing. What I must do is my obligation, which is to keep you from harm.”

Surprise flitted on Luca’s face and her breath caught. Vader pointedly looked away, her force presence growing positively polar, an icy warning to keep a safe distance.

It was a very strange dance. When Luca stepped forward, Vader stepped back, and however much Luca had tried denying her parentage, Darth Vader had only told her the truth over and over again.

Too exhausted to argue anymore, and knowing it was useless in any case, Luca sank to a sitting position again and closed her eyes, so emotionally drained she could scarcely move.

Vader had stolen yet another thing from her. She couldn’t imagine harming her now.

-O-

Sometimes when Luca was small, she woke up crying in the middle of the night. Aunt Beru would come in and rub her back, assuring her that her nightmares were only ever just nightmares.

And she did have dreams of black, white-eyed creatures dragging her away and eating her (she couldn’t scream, because they’d eat that too), but sometimes she didn’t dream at all, but only woke up crying from a fissure so horribly hollow and hurting it made her worry she might never stop.

-O-

When Luca came to, she awoke wrapped in a black cape, as whomever was carrying her marched across a white bridge. A docking chamber.

Suddenly remembering and returning to hell, she warily turned to gaze up at Vader—whom by now had her unholy black mask restored, eyes shrouded in black. What color were they now, and what was she thinking?

Luca wearily shoved at Vader’s front so as to least have some decency in walking, but she might as well as pushed a wall for all the reaction Vader gave.

Luca pressed a hand against her eyes and was annoyed when it came back wet; she’d been crying from the old place again, the one with bits of her that had never grown up, not really. She hid her face upon wondering what the imperial soldiers must’ve thought, to have seen the dark lord carrying a girl draped in her cloak and crying as if her heart were on the verge of stopping.

Vader had turned grief into murderous, destructive power. Luca could only let it turn into pain and something tenderer, infinitely more vulnerable. Maybe that was why Vader turned—sheer fear of being torn apart by this raw emotion.

She sulked, hating the fact that she couldn’t hate Vader, despite the enormity of her actions. The woman had razed entire civilizations and now Luca needed her and that thought was so disturbing so she feebly tried pushing against Vader again, wriggling in her hold and knowing the futility.

“I can’t stay here.”

“You can and must. At my side, you will be a princess.”

Luca’s mind wiped itself blank, faintly hearing Biggs laughing. “I’m not a princess. I have it on good authority I am the opposite of a princess. A princess told me that.”

“You were one before you were born, child. It is your birthright.”

“Please. My friends will come for me in any case.”

This was something Luca did and desperately did not want, for Han, Leia, Threepio, Artoo and Chewie to appear. They’d be in mortal danger, and yet Luca was already missing them.

“I will kill Palpatine for what he did,” said Vader coldly as they stepped into yet another long white hallway. “He told me you had died, and so I’ll burn him from existence. Here is another lesson, child. I’ll destroy anyone whom tries taking you from me.”

Luca’s jaw dropped, and despite the cloak draped around her went cold.

…..oh. Um.

Escaping was going to be an ordeal.

#In Which Our Fearless Hero Doesn't Escape #sparklight #awkward elevator music

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