Technically this fanfic has no OCs. I just gave a name to a character who unbelievably had none, and made a fanfic out of him. This fic revolves around Fayen Fel, younger brother of Soontir Fel, the famous Imperial pilot. It follows his life as he watches his brother blossom into a hardcore Imperial (well, that's what he thought till Soontir defected, anyway). Read and enjoy and review!

Entry One

10 ABY

Today was the last day of the long awaited Harvest Festival, and also the day of the far longer awaited race. And, of course, my brother won. He was quite modest about it, though. Modest to a fault. It was actually quite funny to watch the expressions on the faces of my family–Mom was mostly scared to death, her arms were clasped tightly around me so each time Soontir made a tight turn or did anything dangerous, I was squeezed hard. Dad, for once forgetting about his dignity, was yelling like his life depended on it. Todr was mostly wide-eyed and gape-jawed. Violet was shrieking equally crazily, and Todr, standing next to her, experienced the maximum effect of her lungs going at full blast.

Violet had bought a pair of the red flags to wave madly over her head, but my family had politely refused to wave 'that silly thing' (Todr's words exactly). On account of my being the youngest, she obviously thought she could force me to wave the thing. I had it in my hands out of sheer politeness; if Soontir had happened to glance at us as he was flying past at the speed of a crazed mynock, he'd have seen me, holding the rolled-up flag in my left hand. I did wave it around a bit after the race was over–just a little bit.

Of all the people in my family, I was probably the one who was the least afraid and the most confident–confident that he'd win, I mean.

"And the winner is, Soontir Fel!"

Soontir popped out of his ship–he'd once tried explaining its specifics to me, but I was just too disinterested–with a happy smile on his face, to the accompaniment of cheers from the Fel family and Violet, who's close enough to be considered family. Dad was grinning from ear to ear, Mom was too relieved to say anything beyond, "Second year running too." Violet, ever the one for flattering Soontir, said, "The rest of them looked like Hutts going up a greased hill". I had two things to say to that. One, had she ever seen a Hutt going up a greased hill? And two, Soontir was good, great, in fact, but not all that great. Soontir had managed to win by just 2.3 seconds. Which wasn't all that big a deal.

Soontir, of course, took it with a grain of salt. If it's common knowledge that he does Dad's flying for him, it's even more common knowledge that Violet is extremely fond of Soontir. Less common is the knowledge that Soontir doesn't exactly reciprocate her feelings–I overheard him talking to Todr once. He tolerates her, likes her even, but nothing more. And I dread the day Violet hears that, because she will. Soontir is too sweet a man to lead her on.

Back to the subject. The Fel family was happy–Dad most of all. He positively dotes on Soontir. And who can blame him? "Family does for family" is the Fel motto, but no one follows it more than him. ever since the day he took up flying for Dad, Dad's always been proud of his dear son. Dinner was a nice affair–plenty of ryshcate all around, Todr's dream come true. I was too busy reveling in the happy faces of everybody present to take special interest in the ryshcate–good for Todr, bad for the ryshcate.

Everyone looked so cheerful, so content. That Soontir, being eighteen, could now work officially for AGR was added cause for joy. Smiles and wine all around–except for me. The wine, I mean. I begged Soontir with my eyes when he lifted his glass to his lips, but he didn't change his mind. Mom was on my right side, Soontir on my left, and Dad opposite to me. Soontir once reached out and mussed my hair–I was too stunned to squeal in protest. He hardly ever does that. Mom had a smile on her face that just wouldn't go away. I bet my face was the same. I'd give my right arm to have the whole family smiling like that every day, every year, all through our lives.

I sneaked into his room later that night. He was lying on the bed, stretched out, staring at the ceiling. He seemed startled at my appearance, but pushed himself up. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I wanted to congratulate you properly. In private." I stuck out my hand. "Cheers."

He grinned as he solemnly shook my hand. "Thank you," he said gravely. Then he gestured to me to sit next to him. As I slipped into his bed, I noticed him staring thoughtfully at the opposite wall. "What?" I asked.

He bit his lip. "I'm getting old."

For a moment, I just sat there gaping. Then I burst out laughing. A hint of a frown touched his eyebrows; I was too busy laughing away to notice. "You? Old? If you're old, Dad is ancient."

"Not what I meant. I'm eighteen already. Eighteen years of my life, gone past." He snapped his fingers for effect. "Like that."

"So?" I couldn't understand my brother's philosophical comments. "Eleven years of my life have gone past and I'm not complaining."

He shook his head, a slight smile on his face, and messed up my hair for the second time that day. "Never mind," he said kindly. "You won't understand. When you're eighteen, you will."

"Hopefully not." I saw my brother's solemn face and wondered if he were upset about something, though I couldn't possibly fathom what. So I asked him. Reticent, that was me.

His reply was "No, I'm fine and it's way past your bed-time. Go away."

I went away to the room I shared with Todr. We shared bunk beds–which was the only reason I'd agreed to share a room with 'ryshcate mommy', as I called Todr. Bunk beds were my delight. Of course, I insisted on the top bunk, more so when Dad was unsure of whether I'd be safe up there. Clearly all parents thought a eleven year old was one big ball. I'd been using the bunk for almost three years now, and with no misfortunes that my parents knew of. Actually, I had rolled off–four times–but only my two elder brothers knew about it. Todr was just too kind to tell on me, he knew how much I loved the top bunk, and Soontir I managed to convince with the 'family is for family' line.

I lay staring at the roof, much like my brother, thinking of the Harvest Festival and the dinner that had followed. Then of the conversation between my brother and me. I heard my brother's gentle breathing as he slept on the bunk below mine. I turned over on my side when I saw Soontir slip into the room, presumably on the way to the refresher. He looked up at me, realized I was awake, and offered me a smile, which I returned. He said, "Goodnight," very softly, and I said goodnight back. Then he left and I lay back on my bunk, a smile on my face.

The Fel family was happy. And when the Fel family was happy, I was happy.