A/N: First off let me start by saying I'm so so very sorry for not adding any new material lately. You know how it is, life caught up...excuses excuses tsk tsk I know. I will absolutely get better about that. As you read in the description this is an AU that deals with the Skywalkers in all their angsty glory (and I mean all the Skywalkers ~ hint, hint) and I will have new chapters added in the form of vignettes that delve into different time periods in this story. We're going backwards, forwards and every which way.
As always, reviews are love. Enjoy xx
Disclaimer: I do not, have not, and will never own the glorious playground that is Mr. Lucas's Star Wars universe. I'm just playing in the sandbox.
He can't stop looking at her. His eyes rove across her face madly; with a ferocity that seeks to sear every line of the image into his brain. He thinks back to the last time he had the opportunity to catch a glimpse of his own reflection in a river, or the rare miracle of a mirror, shattered into a million dimensions. There is nothing soft in her face. Nothing to betray of the youth he knows her to be. She is all dark eyes and curled lips. Inhuman almost; like she sprang from the fires of a place called Mustafar. He finds nothing of himself in her.
"What does it mean?" She blinks quickly, almost as if startled by being addressed so directly. Her eyes are those of a doe here; wide and confused, almost as if she's been jolted from a dream. She recovers herself with the air of someone well-trained. "Weary." she responds with a bluntness that doesn't quite take him by surprise. "It sounds too pretty for that; I was thinking it'd be more along the lines of a meadow, something equal-"Oh, so I guess yours is something special?" He frowns. Rule number one: Don't ask about anything. He pauses for a moment; leans forward conspiratorially. "You know, you won't go making friends with that kind of attitude." She flashes a smile reminiscent of a dog more than a young girl. "You're all scared of me, why not rile you up while you keep me alive?"
It works because neither one of them trusts the other. All the volatility coursing in rivulets between them; no offense taken. Of that much Luke is aware. The pair of them have come to a mutual understanding that remains sacred due only to ancient memories of a room shared as children, too young to understand.
Long before the Irid birds are harried suns in the sky, in the wee hours of the dawn, he closes his eyes as he listens to the screams. "There is a village not far from here," "They call it Titchtli." She is silent. Dawn after dawn fighting between humans that seem to have sprung from the same origin as his dear sister. Fighting for what? What is there left? He turns his gaze to the smoke and thinks back to a time when he could have had the answer to his own question.
There is something to be said for the beauty of a land riddled with vines and the smell of sweet herbs. Glimmering pools in the shape of crescents and the odd chattering of life. As the Empire extends its reach even the meekest of civilization, hidden underneath the sun-lit canopies of Ragoon VI, fall to ruin. Nighttime is the worst he thinks. How funny it is that the inner truths of the heart come only in the stillness of night. He tells himself the rebels are fighting for a better universe for all creatures; basic human decency must be forfeited for the sake of low profiles. Yet why does he feel himself curling at the edges?
They say when the universe began two types of human were created; those who seek beauty for themselves and those who leave it for dead. Leia, he was coming to discover, was the latter.
"Why do you keep staring at me?" Her voice comes sharp, severing any possibility of affable words. "It's nothing." Leia looks at him then, eyebrow quirked in a faint imitation of a tall man Luke called father. "Not enough pretty girls around here to catch your eye then, eh?" "Got to stray eyes over to your sist-" "Enough." His eyes are as hard as his body feels and the energy radiating from her is too much. He is tired. More than that really. He is desperate for any glimmer of a life not constantly spent on the run; one in which he can fall back into a pillowy softness and rest easy with a steady heartbeat. She is not making it easy. When they found her, weeks ago, she was as skinny as the arrows the locals use for hunting and as dangerous as their purpose. Nothing has changed and he laughs, a pitiful, wounded noise of defeat. She looks up now, gathering the kindling in her arms closer. "Why are you keeping me?" she whispers. They lock eyes. He laughs again. "Blood is thicker than water, right?" He turns to the side, never completely around, and begins a steady march back to camp.
They send him glares, dirty little side looks. He knows the only reason they haven't cast her into the river is the fact that he is a tool they cannot afford to lose. His trust is their map. His knowledge is the key. Luke knows he has no fear of a mutiny.
He jumps as this time, he hears a woman. He does not know the native language. No one does. Yet he does know this type of voice; high, clear as a bell and so full of terror it makes him quack in his bones. It is a woman. He chances a glance at his sister. Her eyes are set in a steely gaze; her jaw rigid as if carved by masons. He wants to shake her. He wants to grab her by the arms and push her back and forth so hard her teeth rattle. "What's wrong with you?" he asks. "Why are you even here, what do you have to gain what do you have to lose, listening to their cries is you only cons-" His breath is cut short. She is small, quick, in a lethal way that lets him know that no matter how much her bones protrude she is nothing short of feeble. "Go on." "Go on and tell me every last moment of my life from start to finish because I've been writing this story for far too long and I'm curious to see how it ends." Her eyes are slits, and his are as big as the moon. Her hand is at his throat and a vein throbs with a steady rhythm to the beat of his heart. "Go on," she whispers again. "Spoilers." She pushes him back and forth so hard his teeth rattle, a consistent, lilting sound.
He thinks he can see one of the village children reflected in her eyes.
They don't speak. His hands are curled into fists, bunched in the zippered pocket of his trousers. Her hands are entwined in the dark mess she calls hair. He chances a glance at her profile. Her chin is up and she walks with a will he has no idea where she summons the gall for. He opens his mouth and then closes it almost immediately. He decides to betray himself and break rule number one. "Do you want to play twenty questions?"
A/N: Just wanted to clear up some things. The scene where they're discussing Leia's name meanings-that is the Hebrew meaning. Also the final quote about twenty questions- the only reason Luke knows what that is is because it has been include in schoolbooks detailing old-world traditions (aka Earth traditions)