A/N: I do not own Star Wars, only my OCs. Hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 1: Prologue
She stood by the pyre, wind whipping her loose hair around. It was a dark, starless night. Not even any of the moons were out. Overall, the effect was that of a coming storm: calm, yet the sky smelled of rainclouds, warning of what was to come. How foreboding and ominous.
How appropriate.
Sixteen.
The storm was just like her: appearing to be calm, composed, safe. But she was not. Far from it. How appropriate that this was what it took to make her realize it. She felt the tears fall from her cheeks, but she acted as though she'd never felt them. She could only take a few minutes; her duties were calling, and they were difficult duties indeed.
Dieciseis.
Her duty. She knew it was right, what had happened. It had to happen; there was no other choice. There was no other way. Dimly, she remembered holobooks she had once read diligently as a child. There was always a happy ending there; the hero always saved the day, had always saved everyone that mattered. The bad guys had been defeated; there was always a bright future in her books.
But life was not like her stories. Life was difficult, complicated, designed to tear at you until you despaired. Especially for her and her people.
She was too young for this, too young for what had happened. But what was done was done, and there's nothing that could have changed that. Not anymore, thanks to her.
It had been the right choice; she knew that was true. But she couldn't help but hate herself for doing what had to be done. Sacrifices had had to be made. This sacrifice was almost too much. In return for her duty, she had forever forsaken those that she cared about, those that she loved. All except for one, that is, but that was to be expected. She'd been with her since she was a young child, she understood in a way the others never could and never would.
It was right, but it was also wrong. She despised herself, and knew that she'd never be able to forgive herself for what had happened because of her weakness. Her duty.
Her blade blazed, lighting the pyre, even as the storm began to rain down on her. But she wouldn't let the storm put it out. She deserved at least a little respect, even after everything that'd happened because of her. So the pyre burned, along with the body of her on it. She couldn't say her name. It hurt too much. So, instead, she spoke two words: "Good-bye, amor."
Duty called.
A/N: Well, I hope you all enjoyed that; I do plan to continue, though I don't know of any specific dates. I'm going to try at least once a week. Oh, and for those who haven't gotten it, the italicized "her" is referring to a second person, not the girl by the pyre (I know it's a little vague). I love giving these mysterious kind of elements to a story, so expect an air of mystery overshadowing things throughout.
Please read and review!