"Oh, my sweet summer child," Old Nan said quietly, "what do you know of fear?
- GRRM, A Game of Thrones
Summary: Survival always comes at a great cost, it was life's harsh reality and bitter lesson, it was something you learned in a hard, unwanted way.
Surviving the destruction of Luke Skywalker's Jedi Academy took a big part of your former self and bounded you into an endless prison of undesired emotions, leaving you a broken shell.
Through the help of Han and Leia, you started to recover. But when the First Order surfaced, you went with Han, not wanting to be apart of the brewing war and to avoid witnessing death again. For years, you have successfully isolated yourself from conflict and society but then an incident forces you to undertake your first mission alone.
Things were going well until you received a distress call. Deciding that it was high-time you go out of your comfort zone and take part in the current galactic unrest, you responded never realizing that you had set yourself on a journey to a galaxy far, far from your own.
There you'll meet him, your salvation.
*TW for suicide attempt, self harm, violence and PTSD. Also contains Infinity War spoilers. Please be aware.
You can still remember everything that happened that night.
The blood-curdling screams and endless cries for help of both the younglings and the masters,
the mixed scent of burnt wood and seared flesh,
images of mutilated corpses of your fellow padawans scattered on the floors of the classrooms and living spaces where you once studied and slept,
the terrifying hum of the lightsabers that glowed crimson wielded by the Knights of the dark who hunted all of you down,
the terrifying glow of the flames burning the academy into ashes,
and the excruciating pain that came when your dominant hand was cut off, your lightsaber still tight on its grip,
followed by the scorching sting of the red blade that went through your abdomen and the darkness overtaking your senses.
They all lingered in the back of your mind, embedded permanently, refusing to be forgotten.
They haunted you in your weakest, abusing your vulnerability. They come in forms of nightmares disrupting your peaceful slumbers and in vivid images attacking your imagination when you are conscious. The memories reveal on your relentless screams and tears, torturing your mind, feeding you agony.
They would bring you unbearable sorrow, you would resort to harming yourself, wishing that you shouldn't have survived that night. The telltale evidence was left by the silver scars, scratches, caused by self-harm, that ran across the length of your arms, a constant reminder of what you have suffered.
Your recovery took months and months of rehabilitation and treatment, the survival marring both of mental and physical states. You were the lone survivor of the massacre, the only person, in the hundreds of victims, to have escaped inevitable death. You were found amongst the corpses, trapped under the fallen ceilings of your academy. They say that you were fortunate enough to escape the wrath of flames that engulfed the bodies and the heavy debris above you. It wasn't luck, you've always wanted to tell them, it was a curse.
When you were found, your rescuers exerted all possible efforts and resources that they can manage just to bring you back to health. But the price of your survival was high, the trauma and injuries had taken a huge toll on your well-being. Your healers, the members of the Resistance, through Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa-Solo's tutelage, never left your side, monitoring you now and then, fearing that you might commit the unthinkable.
The idea, was there, in the darkness of your thoughts, tempting you every single day of your survival. It gave you the curiosity to know how your wrists would look like if you slash your veins clean, how beautiful it would be to see the blood running free.
Sometimes, it called into the power of the Force inside you, corrupting the remnants of light, your willingness to live, urging you to summon your lightsaber and finish the job the murderers have started.
It was a wonder how you never succumbed to the evil voice that tormented your very safety. Perhaps it was the Force that saved you, giving you the strength to fight back until the voice was reduced into nothing but echoes, still, it remained, slumbering in your consciousness, waiting for a chance to attack.
You won't allow it again.
"Hey kid, you sure you can do this alone?"
Han Solo's voice broke into the silence of the cockpit of your Stalwart-class freighter, you both dubbed as the Chrysanthemum, that currently rests aboard Eravana. Your adoptive Father was standing behind you, hands on his waist, his eyes roaming around the controls.
Before your time in the Jedi Academy, you were one of the many orphaned force-sensitive children scattered across the galaxy, through the help of Luke's new Jedi Order, you were brought into the temple, raised and trained in the ways of the Force. The Jedi Academy was your only known home and family.
You were scarcely fourteen when the Jedi Academy was destroyed, with no parents left alive and your safety, being the lone survivor of the Jedi massacre still in question, Leia and Han agreed to take you in. You were able to establish a good relationship between the both, immediately clinging to Leia and seeing her as your real mother.
However, the arrangement didn't last that long, Han and Leia's grief for their true born son's loss led to their estrangement. You stayed with Leia.
But when the First Order finally surfaced threatening the safety of the galaxy and the New Republic, you eventually choose to follow Han, wanting to be away from conflict. It broke your heart to leave Leia, the woman who became your mother, you loved her, yes, but she was too involved in the new war brewing and you simply can't stand seeing plenty of innocents lives lost again, afraid that it may reopen the wounds you tried so hard to close. She understood your decision and despite the years of no contact, you felt her through your connection in the Force. And for so long that she was alright and safe, you are content to stay where you are.
In the first few months that you traveled together, Han was distant, still hesitant to let you in. He confessed in the years later that you simply reminded him so much of Ben that he was reluctant to let you in. You accepted that fact and knew was also hurting because Ben died that day and you didn't.
As time passed by, you formed a deep father-daughter bonding. Your trauma still plagued you, with the occasional onslaughts of your visions and memories, he became overprotective that he would always make sure that you weren't left alone nor in a company that will trigger your episodes. Thus, he didn't allow you to go on solo smuggling missions without someone to accompany you for fear of endangering yourself once a flashback occurs.
Well, that was when the Eravana still had a larger crew.
Your latest excursion, that included the capture and transport of three hideous creatures, the Rathtars, to Mol'leaj caused so much damage that includes a large number of supplies and sadly, the lives of your crewmates. It was only you, Han and Chewie left. With the others gone, there was no one to do the menial tasks of collecting supplies, so you took it upon yourself to volunteer. As expected, he didn't approve.
"You know we badly needed food and fuel, right?" You started, crossing your arms over your chest, your robotic hand tucked under the real one, "It'll be difficult to stop in another planet for restocks with those ugly creatures in our cargo, not to mention those factions dead on our tails. "
Han frowned, seemingly trying to consider it, "At least bring Chewie with you. I'll be fine on my own," he said. "If these Rathtars escape again, I can take them down easily."
You laughed sarcastically and rolled your eyes. You can hardly imagine him taking those monsters with a blaster. They were now secured but they could easily tear him apart if they could break out. You shivered at the thought, you wanted this contract to be over quickly, it was better to take easier smuggling jobs than one as complicated and dangerous as this one. But you needed credits, the dept you have acquired from the factions chasing you have severely increased through the years.
You engulfed him in a hug, resting your head on his chest and he had wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace.
"You should stop worrying about me, Han" you whispered, "I can do this. I need to do this. If I can't be trusted on my own, how am I to completely recover?"
You felt him let out a breath of defeat. He placed a quick kiss on your forehead before letting you go, but not without messing with your hair first. You groaned.
"You should stop doing that, you know," you complained, combing your fingers through the ruffled tresses. "I'm no longer a kid."
"You still are to me," Han smiled, "Now, I guess, I can't really convince you to bring Chewie, can I?"
You smiled, shaking your head.
"Fine kid, you win. Just remember to take care of yourself. Return as soon as you can. Leia would…" He stopped, clearing his throat.
The quick mention of your adoptive mother's name changed the atmosphere, Han's hazel eyes darkened with longing. You know he misses her, her and Ben, so much. There are times you would catch him, when he thinks that he was alone, staring into space. You miss Leia too, its been too long since you last saw her. You wish they would reconcile, yet you know that this was their way of healing, and you let them be.
"I know," you whispered, squeezing his arm before you decided to push him out of the cockpit. "Well, now, off of my ship! I need to go now so we can finally get those bloody monsters off of Eravana!"
Han's laughter echoed in the halls of your small freighter as he got off. You can see him standing in the docks, watching you through the viewport as you maneuvered the ship out of the larger freighter's hangar. You waved your hand at him and smiled as he returned it. When engine hummed in life, you lifted the magnetic holds that kept the Chrysanthemum in place. The repulsors roared, shifting the gears, you gradually adjusted the acceleration speed, when you see the hangar shields open, you went it to maximum acceleration sending the Chrysanthemum out.
Your body thrummed in excitement, you finally did it, stepping outside your comfort zone without the help of a chaperone. You prayed to the stars that bad luck won't cross your path.
You needed a droid.
The thought wasn't conceived out of impulse, you have pondered on the idea carefully as you journeyed into hyperspace. Eravana required an astromech. Running and maintaining a ship as large as the Baleen-class heavy freighter was impossible without a few helping hands, and now that Han no longer has a larger team, thanks again to those stupid ugly-faced monsters you were currently hoarding, a droid would be a good source of assistance especially when it comes to repairs. It will also cut some costs, a fewer crew means a few mouths to feed and a few pockets to pay. If you can finally fulfill the Rathtar contract with Mol'leajian King, Han can start paying off some of the debts from the criminal faction and it will lessen the number of bounty hunters and collectors searching for him and all you have to do is to find a droid sold for a good deal.
You stretched your arms as the Chrysanthemum descended steadily into one of the vacant docking bays in Takobo City. The journey took almost half a day, a bit longer than you would have preferred, but the duration was worth it. Takobo was a relatively peaceful planet largely populate by Ithorians, who are friendly and level-headed creatures, perhaps the best beings to do business with. This was the reason you have chosen the planet in the first place. Most inhabitants were pleasant and they detested violence, so the atmosphere was always serene, offering you a temporary respite prior to your return to space. Putting on your sun robes, you prepped yourself for this little side-mission, aiming to conclude early and avoid possible altercations.
The BB-5 droid was a modest, affordable unit that you found in one of the junk shops in Takobo. The search took some time as well as the price negotiations. BB-units are one of the droid models produced in the early days of the New Republic, and the one you acquired was a Jakku veteran. It was obviously a smuggled item sold to the store owner, repaired and wipe clean to be disposed of, it was a bit a little over your budget, but you managed to win over the owner and buy it for a pretty decent price.
While on your way back to Han and Chewie, you choose to run a final check on the BB unit, deciding not to boot up its system, for possible overlooked damages both on its hardware and software. The diagnostics proceeded smoothly, confirming that all internal parts and functions are in mint condition. The housing was also pretty fine except for some minor scratches and rust due to its history and the time of disuse, which will easily be fixed by a thorough cleaning and an oil bath.
You were almost satisfied, that is until you noticed that the Transmitter and Receiver antenna was bent at an awkward angle, the metal wire dangling dangerously and only a few tweaks away from falling off. You clucked your tongue, this would totally not do.
"That damned seller," you cursed, kneeling before the BB unit. You carefully detached the broken antenna, observing the piece before your eyes, trying to recall if you have seen a similar apparatus in your collected junk back in Eravana.
For now, you'll settle for cleaning the droid and booting it up. You got up and went to check the supply cabinets if you have something to tinker the droid with.
As you were rummaging through your cleaning supplies, you felt it, the shift in the atmosphere. During your days in the Jedi Academy, you learned that most padawans have a special skill granted by the Force, and yours was the heightened ability to sense danger.
It's been years since you have last used the Force, only tapping into it when you would check Leia, but the ability remained and still as effective. You were able to utilize it to escape some troubles in the past years.
You smelt it, the air in your cabin, it was dark and foreboding. Something unfavorable was coming, you knew. Dumping the cleaning supplies back to the storage cabinet, you returned to the cockpit, perching yourself on the pilot's seat.
"Something bad is coming, Han. I can feel it. Be careful." You said through your comms, "I'll try my best to get back."
It came, seconds after you sent the recorded message to Han, the distress call breaking the silence of the Chrysanthemum.
"This is Asgard," a man's rugged voice echoed in the speakers of your ship, "we are being boarded and attacked by a warship. We have no weapons, we come in peace. There are women and children aboard. Please, help us, he pleaded, sounding more desperate now, dying, "Our location is…."
Static.
You gasped, your hand involuntarily covering your lips. Of all the things that you have imagined to happen today, this was definitely not included on your to-do and to-watch out list.
"Stars," you murmured, leaning back in the chair, rubbing your eyes.
Should you help or not?
The question entered your mind, and you feel your logical side and conscience clash against each other. Logic says you should ignore it, the signal was probably broadcasted in all channels so there is a big chance that some of those who received it, those with a big heart, are on their way to assist. Your conscience, however, reminded you of who you were once before, and what you have trained to become a Jedi. It was in your nature to assist other people in need.
But I'm not even a Jedi. I haven't finished my training. Besides…
No, your mind countered. Would you waste all the years you have endeavored to steer clear of the brewing conflicts in an attempt to bury your unpleasant past? You hardly just completed your first streak of independence, the start of your step by step journey into eventual emotional release. You are yet to be ready.
And you promised Han, Han who is your protective Father, the only person who may now be looking forward to seeing you return. The darkness you have sensed earlier may also connect to him, he can be in danger, Leia could be in danger, anyone you cared for maybe in danger. Yet you knew deep down that they are quite capable of protecting themselves, they have been fighting their adversaries for years. You might, in the end, be the one who'll require the safeguarding.
Although, you have matured now. Without Jedi training, you busied yourself with other forms of combat. You were very efficient with blasters and guns, not to mention a very decent pilot, you were Han Solo's ward above all. It was already high time you break out of your comfort zone.
Hesitation was clouding your perception, but the will to help was starting to gnaw on your insides, the tinge of pity on those poor individuals asking for help setting you into unrest.
There's a chance that you won't even catch the aggressors, with your current pace and emotional struggle, their job will be done by the time you arrive. The need to fight will be reduced to zero. Your aid could be directed into a search for survivors. A rescue. You will be more useful that way.
You broke, relented. Your hand hovered over the comm system, tapping on the message log. You double-checked if the source and coordinates of the call were recorded. And you furrowed your brow reading the information, it was somewhere near Earth? What the hell was Earth? But you shook your head, disregarding the data.
Questions of trivial matters such as this will be asked later. You set the points in your Navi computer, changing the course of your destination, never realizing that you were coming to the unknown, to a galaxy different from your own.
I really have a bad feeling about this, you thought, your hands clenching the controls tightly.
You prayed you were wrong.
AN: I don't have a specific ship for Loki, and I don't really like making OCs so I settled into a "reader-centric" story. I hope you'll like it. Please tell me whether or not the fic deserves a continuation.