Desolate. Deserted. Decrepit. Dead. The words rolled in one after another as Ben Solo stepped off the small merchant freighter with his uncle.
"Are you sure this is the place, Uncle?"
The older man was already beginning to walk far ahead, doubtless of his own steps. He pulled up the hood of his rough spun cloak and looked back.
"What do you feel Ben? Do you feel as if this is just another forsaken planet or do you feel that we have been justly called to this place? If the former, you may stay here with Kivron and the ship; I'll force you to do nothing. It might perhaps even be for the better that you stay, so that we can secure our flight back to Gandor."
Ben sighed. He and his uncle had only been living with each other for three short years, and his uncle already knew how to play him like a stack of cards. Granted, a great deal of his insight was largely owed to the Force and the mentor-padawan relationship they had within it; however, Uncle Luke had a natural talent for being able to read people. In their early time together, they didn't talk much simply because Luke understood that Ben didn't want to speak more than was necessary in their circumstance, and as he had said so many times before, he would not force him into anything. So for years ,the pair had coexisted, building their relationship out of an awkward understanding of each other, falling into the roles that had been suddenly dictated to them, and carefully trying to pull the other to his understanding.
The older man stood in the broad heat of the desert waiting for his nephew's decision.
"I will go with you, Uncle"
His uncle smiled, eyes gleaming with another usual victory.
"Good, come along then. We have work to be done and such little time to do it in, especially if we want to be gone by nightfall."
Ben resisted another sigh growing up in his lungs. Instead , he threw up the hood of his own robe, tucked the opening firmly under his arms to protect against the raging, volatile winds of the desert, and stepped out into the sun.
The wind was stronger than Ben had expected. Even with his dark eyes planted firmly on the ground before him, sand still managed to blast into every crevice of his face, leaving him nearly breathless. He could hardly even seen where he was going, and was only reassured by the identical hunched form of his uncle mere steps ahead of him. He thought their brutal trek would never end until finally he heard his uncle yell, " Up ahead. We'll rest there."
Up ahead turned out to be a little hovel half hidden in the ground. Still hunched, Uncle Luke, pounded on a small door From the outside, you would not have expected a cavernous den littered with dust bitten travelers, and regular bar goers alike, but sure enough when the door opened, that is what they saw, that and the short Rodian who seemed to be the guard of the place. Slightly put off by his presence, Ben quickly averted his eyes.
Uncle Luke was already making himself at home at the long, wrap-around, stone bar. Ben had followed him closely, but now looked at the stool next to his teacher with disdain.
Luke made his order with the old haggard looking barmaid, before he to turned to notice his nephew's reluctance.
He laughed a little. "Well go ahead, sit down, it's just dirt."
Ben stood still and whispered sharply "You didn't bring me half way across the galaxy just to buy me a drink did you?!"
Luke raised his eyebrows. "Of course not, I brought you here to escape that storm outside, gain valuable insight into the potentially dangerous province we are about to enter in, and to buy you a drink. I also thought you would have enjoyed some time apart from the others, but perhaps I was wrong."
Begrudgingly, Ben sat, caving into the passive aggressive force that was his uncle.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
Luke did not look at him. "It's quite alright. I myself was impatient at that age. I'm sure my Uncle could have told you quite a few tales of my own stubbornness. Youth is blinding, remember that Ben."
"Yes, Uncle," he barely whispered.
After their drinks arrived, the pair sat in silence, listening to the soft mumblings of all the other conversations around them. Enough time passed, that Ben began to think that he would be condemned to sit here and drink his odd, bitter concoction for the remainder of the trip. He barely could conceal his coughs between forced sips. The more he drank, the more he thought he saw his uncle's lip shift into a smirk, and the more he became frustrated.
Ben was almost ready to snap again at his amused uncle when the bar lady returned.
"Can I get you anything else?"
"No, no, that will be all thank you," Luke said dismissing her with a slight wave of his hand, the metal in his prosthetic gleaming in the dim light.
"There is perhaps one thing," he said as she began to walk away. "You wouldn't happen to know where I could find a woman that goes by the name Alesandre, would you?
The gray skinned lady turned back to them almost rigidly. She sat her bottle down, and leaned against the counter. " I might, but what kind of business does a stranger like you want with a slave like her?"
"Old friends," Luke said almost immediately. His hand started to gleam again, a copper coin danced across his knuckles and vanished. "I've come for a reunion of sorts."
The old lady narrowed her dim ,nearly milky eyes at the Jedi master, then turned to his padawan, looking at the pair with clear suspicion.
"Fine," she said curtly after brief hesitation. "Alesandre lives in slave quadrant A4. It's about 5 km north from here, on the edge of town."
"Is that all you can tell us?" The coin started to dance again between the master's fingers.
The bar maid's filmy eyes flashed to the movement. She swallowed. "Her master is Averion. He marks his slaves with a bright violet dye on their left arm. You can't miss 'em. When you get to the slave quarters, look for the violet and you should find her."
Luke rose from his seat with a smile. "Thank you. You've been very helpful to us, but I'm afraid we must take our leave now."
"Wait!" The woman cried, as the duo began to turn away from the bar, her coin still not earned. "There is one more thing you should know. Alesandre takes time about with some of the other women, working a stall in the market. Though I doubt she would be there today, due to some strange events of these last few days, it would be best if you tread lightly through the place. Averion is a quiet man, but he won't tolerate anyone messing with his business, and frankly Thavia isn't know for it's hospitality."
Uncle Luke nodded slightly, his smile wiped away by the firm line of his lips. "Thank you, we'll keep that in mind. Come along, Ben."
Ben started to follow his uncle again, but not without noticing the slight flick of his thumb. He turned back to see the barmaid holding the copper in her knobby hands, examining it with a look of near bewilderment.
As they stepped back out of the drinking hole, past the vigilant doorkeeper, Ben asked in a low voice. " Why did you not just use the Force Uncle?"
The sun struck clear against the older man's face. The storm had subsided, yet the elder's smile had returned.
" For some beings it is not necessary to use such extensive measures such as the Force. Simpler, more material things, are far more persuasive. Besides, in a place like this, we're bound to stand out from the locals anyway; I would like to draw as little attention as possible."
Ben didn't have much time to consider these things, for his uncle was already throwing up the hood of his robe again, heading in the direction their informer had mentioned.
"Now, we best start moving again. The storm took more time than I expected. Kivron, may be a solid fellow, but I don't think he would have him any qualms about leaving us out here for another week. We best hurry while we can."
Ben made no reply, for he knew whatever his teacher had in mind, it could not be redirected. Instead he followed suit, and began to follow him once more.
Thavia was just as the woman had described it: inhospitable. From the clusters of rough inhabitants that made it a point to stare at the unfamiliar men, to the torrid desert landscape speckled with all kinds of oddly shaped stone buildings, the place was simply brutal.
Ben walked along, taking it all in while returning the stares of passerby and resuming his original list of assumptions: dead, forsaken, cursed, godless, the list went on and on. Luke, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind as much. He walked seemingly unaware of their onlookers and infernal environment. Perhaps it was because he himself had grown up in a similar environment, or so he had claimed before, but Ben thought it was largely due to his master's natural patient predisposition. Throughout everything Luke seemed to hold an iron gentle tolerance towards all creatures. Even in especially trying times on the the island, while training the other children, when Ben was ready to explode with intolerable rage, Uncle Luke would still be standing tall and steady over them, ready to calmly take care of the situation at hand. In ways like this, Luke amazed his nephew.
After walking a little further, the pair came to a differently constructed part of town. Tents of varying sizes were strewn up by skinny pieces of wood, creating a large canopy of shade, under which large boxes, slashed with color differentiated the merchants and their wares. Considering the old woman's advice, Luke called back to his nephew, "Keep your eyes open for the violet."
It did not take not much searching though to find the violet streaked crates. The makeshift merchant stand was close to the edge of the canopy. A long, dark haired woman stood in the middle of a carefully placed collection of jewels. Under the the thick, cotton cloth which the finery rested, a bright light purple streak was painted on the dark wood. When the dark haired woman turned back from the humorous conversation she was having with one of her fellow merchants, a similar violet mark could be seen on the top of her left arm.
"May I help you gentlemen?" She asked us with a smile, finally noticing her visitors.
"Yes," Luke spoke up, "We're looking for Alesandre. Is she here today?"
The lady's smile fell instantly, her face now contorted into a look of horrible shock.
"She's not here today. What do you want?" Her voice had turned to glass.
Ben felt an overwhelming sense of fear in her. For whatever reason he did not know, but it sparked a billion questions in him. Whoever Alesandre was, she must have been of some importance according to the reactions they had gotten from both the barmaid, and now this woman.
"We mean her no harm," Luke said softly, obviously feeling her fear as well. "We're just a couple of family friends wishing to pay a visit."
The woman looked at the strangers hard and well ,her whole body frozen in her analysis. Besides the noise from the other vendors, there was an uncomfortable ,almost eerie silence that surrounded them. Finally she breathed.
"She's not here. She should be in her quarters , in Averion's unit. Her door has flowers painted on it. She'll be there... if you're lucky."
The last part was mumbled, but Ben clearly heard it.
"Thank you," Luke nodded. " Sorry for bothering you. We'll be on our way now."
The dark haired woman made no reply, but simply stared after them as they walked out of the shade of marketplace.
"What was she afraid of?" Ben asked, when he and Luke were well away from the woman.
"Her master. She's afraid her master sent us to take Alesandre."
"Like bounty hunters?"
"No, more like slave traders."
"But why would he want to sell one of his own slaves? Slavery is nearly extinct ;any current slaves would be invaluable, and difficult to replace."
"They would be," Luke confirmed, "but she's done something to change his mind."
"But what ,Uncle?"
"That we'll have to ask her ourselves."
It did not take long to reach the squat, huddled, clay buildings that could have only been the slave complex. The buildings were separated into four units per building: two doors in the front and two doors in the back. Between each building there was a small alley way of sorts, and as they passed, Ben noticed children of all ages in tattered clothing, with colorful arms playing in the shade the alleys offered.
Alesandre's unit was close to the edge of the complex. In between her door, which was in fact marked with fluffy, pink, childish renditions of flowers, and the door of her neighbor's, there was a long splattered line of bright violet that marked the place to have belonged to the infamous slave master Averion.
Luke wasted no time in stepping up to the doorway, and wracking his knuckles against one of the faded pink flowers. There was a long silence. Ben was starting to think their venture would turn out as silent as the woman in the marketplace, when they heard the rattling of a lock, and slowly a crack in the door opened.
Deep hazel eyes peered out at them. "Can I help you, sir?" A woman's voice asked quietly. Her words quivered. Ben felt the dark anxious creeping of fear again. This time much more strongly.
"Are you Alesandre?" Luke asked in a calm low voice.
" Yes. What is it you want?" The fear became heavier.
"My name is Luke Skywalker. This is my nephew Ben," Luke's prosthetic patted the tall, dark haired-boy beside him, "I was good friends with your father. I would like to discuss some things about him, if you would allow it."
The woman's breath seemed to hitch at the word father. The deep hazel eyes widened.
"What do you know about my father?"
"Plenty, and if you allow us to come in, I would be more than obliged to tell you a great deal of that information." Luke answered, continuing with same soothing tone.
The hazel eyes were still wide with terror as they dodged to look at something behind. They quickly returned.
"I'm afraid I can't do that."
She's hiding something Ben thought.
Luke stepped a little closer to the door.
"We won't hurt you, Alesandre." He said calmly and clearly as his hand drifted across the woman's eyes.
"You won't hurt me." She whispered.
"We only want to speak to you in peace."
"You only want to speak to me in peace."
"We will not take what you are hiding."
"You will not take what I am hiding." Alesandre breathed. Her voice getting lighter with each hand wave.
"You will let us in, because you have no reason to fear us."
"I will let you in because I have no reason to fear you."
With that, the door swung open to reveal a small woman standing in the entrance to an extremely modest living space. Alesandre was perhaps the height of an average woman, but the sheer size of her was considerably small. Everything around her seemed to heavy for her to bear. If a rare desert breeze would have came in, it would have likely knocked her down with its strength. Even her very own skin seemed to swallow her whole as it pulled tight across the planes of her cheeks, but was oddly sunken in the pits of her eyes, and the chocolate hair hanging limply across her forehead, only add to the effect.
Alesandre's eyes were much more calm now after undergoing the effects of Force mind-control. She stepped back against the open door, and gestured for them to come in. Luke and Ben had to bend their heads down again ,as they stepped over the short threshold into the slave's home.
The house seemed to only possess the one room in which they stood, and a small cut doorway, covered by stitched pieces of wood. A single bed was made out of the existing stone on the far wall, and was covered with dull colored rags, and two small, lumpy pillows for bedding. There was what seemed to be a kitchen towards the front of the room, with a stove, a couple of cabinets hanging over it, and the the small table on the opposite wall to which they were directed to sit.
"Can I get you something to drink?" Alesandre asked, prepared to be a more courteous host.
"No, no, that's quite alright. Like I mentioned before, we've only come to discuss some details about your father and what he left behind."
"I don't mean to rude sir, but he didn't leave much of anything behind. He left me and my mother when I was very young. I hardly knew the man."
A sort of uncomfortable looked passed over Uncle Luke's face. "That may be so, but he left much more behind than I think you are aware of."
"What do you mean?" Alesandre asked, her body stiffening as she clutched the chair in front of her. Ben felt the familiar tinge of fear in her, but there was something else that didn't seem to quite fit. It felt like something away from her.
"You see," Luke began "Your father was a part of a old order that was unlike any other..."
Ben began to fade out on the conversation, for he had heard the story Uncle Luke was about to tell, at least half a hundred times. He had told to him when had first come to train with him, and he had told it to the other padawans. On nights he deemed of special importance, or when the other children had begged for some form or story telling, Uncle Luke would again recite the same old story. So instead of listening once more, Ben began to look more into his surroundings.
Over the bed, dancing with the the slivers of desert light that managed to creep through the cracks in the door, was a string of broken glass. The glass held his attention for a moment as he watched it gently spin its reflections across the space. Then he moved on to notice something on the wall. In black, just above where the lumpy pillows had been placed, two stick people stood under a massive sun. Ben smiled at the ill-proportioned drawing, until he noticed something sitting on one of the pillows. A straw doll with a white face stared at Ben with a goofy smile. He thought back to the painted flowers on the door, and the odd feeling he had before
"Do you have a daughter?" Ben asked suddenly, cutting off his uncle's voice.
Their eyes snapped to him. A moment of silence, the elders had been caught of guard.
Alesandre finally swallowed, and nodded. "I do."
More silence, as she stared at him, weighing her options.
Her fingers released the chair she had been leaning on, and Alesandre turned her head toward the wood curtain.
"Honey... You can come out now."
The room was still. Silence had become the fashion of the day. Then finally, ever so slowly, the curtain began to rattle as a tiny hand moved through the beads, and stopped. Two dark eyes glowed from the shadow of the the closet, staring at the strange men. Ben felt that off feeling again. It wasn't quite fear, but something more akin to apprehension and perhaps... anger?
"Come here, darling." Alesandre held out her hand to the closet. "They won't hurt you, I promise."
Ben didn't think the girl would nudge, but sure enough, after cautiously tip-toeing out of the closet, she bolted across space between mother and child, and tackled the woman's legs. Alesandre let out an exhausted breath.
"Not so rough." She whispered to the shadow hiding behind her.
Alesandre looked back up. Matching, deep hazel eyes, under long brown mussy hair, peeped around the mother's knee's and stared back at Ben. "Luke, Ben, this is my daughter," Alesandre said, trying to pry the creature into view. "This is Rey."
A/N: *Insert exhausted heavy breathing here* Wow, 3,000 words and we have even gotten to the good stuff yet! Can I just say this was a beast to write? A pleasant beast, with wings and sparkly rainbows and stuff, but a beast none the less. Shout out to my beautiful new found beta Sam, who has become my go to for all Star Wars questions, and who embraces all my Star Wars garbage with open arms. Bless you, my dear, bless you! I have never written Star Wars before, and I consider myself a relatively new member in the fandom, so if anything seems off, I would appreciate if you would let me know! Thank you so much reading, and I hope you all stay on this garbage ship for the ride ;)!
-Jess