A Lie, A Truth, And A Promise.
Miranna Minzove.
The supreme irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out of it alive.-Robert Heinlein.
Rain dripped softly down the dusty window, its noise soothing the woman's ears inside. She sighed softly, running a pale hand over the table beside her, as the rain pelted the thin roof above. A finger came up to her face, brushing hair behind an ear, before she stood up, sighing softly as her hands clutched the material of her tunic.
It couldn't be true.
She shook her head harshly, clearing her head of the thought. She walked over to the window, placing her flushed cheek against the cool glass as a blue eye watched the rain pour.
Those heroes. How could they have been? Evil. The Jedi. It wasn't possible. They were heroes, rescuers, defenders of the whole galaxy.
Miranna sighed once more, lips parting to allow the sound out. She ran a hand over the window, clearing away the condensation that had appeared there. The wind howled outside, filling her ears with noise, blocking out the thoughts that had plagued her since she had seen the Holonet the morning before. Blue eyes filled with tears, as she thought about the future. What was it to be like, without the Jedi? Would it be better? Everyone assumed so, everyone accept her. Miranna remembered a time, when the Jedi were eagerly chatted about in the playground, a time where her and her family where safe from attacks, safe in their belief that the Jedi were there to protect them and always would be. It wouldn't be the same.
She had grown up with the Jedi. Her brother had been one. Tears streamed down her red cheeks, as her hands clutched the material of her tunic once more. Adarm. The news of his death had arrived only a month ago, and it was sill fresh.
Miranna walked slowly over to the lounge, tears falling. Running a moist hand over her brother's lightsaber, she remembered.
"Miri!" Adram called out, happily ran over to his older sister, brown curls ruffled in the soft wind. His cheeks were red, his brow sweaty. His booted feet patted a rhythm on the harsh pavement of their street.
Miranna turned softly, a smile playing on her lips as she watched her five-year-old brother run to her. "Yes?" She whispered into the wind, gesturing with her hand for her mother to continue on down theCoruscanti street.
Adram reached her, a paper in his hand. "Look!" He exclaimed, his stubby fingers reaching the papers up for her to receive. She plucked it from his fingers, a playful frown appearing on her soft face.
"I wonder what it is," She said, mainly for her brother's benefit, tapping a finger against her chin. He smiled happily at her as she read, hands clutching one another as fingers wove around one another, eyes shining.
Miranna's blue eyes widened as she finished reading, her bag falling off of her shoulder and landing on the pavement. "Adram?" She questioned in a whisper, kneeling down to her brother's height. "Is this true? Are you to be a Jedi?"
Adram laughed boyishly, entwining his sister into a hug. "Yes!" He exclaimed to the sky, his small head pointed upwards as he spoke, eyes flashing. "I am to be a Jedi!"
Miranna squealed happily, whirling around to search for her mother. Adram's hand slipped into hers as hey walked, his other hand clutched the letter tightly, a smile constantly on his thick lips.
"Mama!" Adram called out, the first to spot their mother. She smiled, scooping Adram into a hug, her blonde hair falling out of its bun as she whirled her boy around.
"What is it, sweet pea?" She asked, setting Adram back down on the pavement, hands dropping the red scarf she had been examining back into the box.
"Read it Mama, read it!" Adram exclaimed, handing the letter to their mother. Miranna watched as their mother read, a slight smile playing on her lips. Adram, a Jedi. Ever since he had been just one he had shown the unnatural ability to do things that weren't, well, natural. Their father had wanted to call somebody in to investigate, but however, kept delaying it, year after year. Miranna had began to think that, since Adram was the only boy in the family and then was rightful the heir to Father's business, Father didn't want to give him up to the Jedi, thus having to leave the business to Uncle Petroi, the overweight, balding half-brother of Father.
Mother clapped her hands together, the letter falling to the floor gracefully. Adram bent to scoop it out, before straightening back up, his eyes furrowed as he looked at his mother.
"A Jedi!" Mother exclaimed happily, eyes twinkling as Adram opened his mouth to speak. "A Jedi," She repeated softly, kneeling down before Adram and clasping his hands in hers.
"You are sure you want to do this?" She asked him softly, reminding Miranna of her father.
"More than anything in this whole galaxy," Adram answered firmly, gazing down into his mother's eyes as he straightened up.
"Then I am happy for you," Mother whispered, clasping her son to her chest, smiling over his head at Miranna; as she pushed back unshed tears. Miranna took this as her cue to join in on the hug, her hair falling onto Mother's shoulder as she wrapped her arms around her family.
To anyone looking, it would have looked like a family celebrated their son's acceptance into the Jedi religion. But Miranna knew the truth. Because, that night, her mother wept.
A tear rolled down her cheek as she clutched her brother's belongings to her chest, rocking back and forth on the hard floor. At only nineteen, Adram's death had been a shock to the whole family, a shock that left them in turmoil for weeks. And now, this. Mother and Father had been out for the day, along with her little sister Mona. She was going to be the one to break the saddening news to them; the Jedi were evil, and had thenceforth been wiped out by one of their new rulers, Darth Vader. And henceforth, Adram was dead.
She couldn't believe it. No, she wouldn't believe it. And so, hardly believing the news herself, Miranna braved on through the day, weeping and crying over the imminent arrival of the news. It was only later she found out her mother, father, and Mona were dead, killed - no slaughtered - by the hand of an enraged shop-keep. She was alone, dreadfully alone in the world. Forever to be alone.
Tuana Kispen.
We do not die because we have to die; we die because one day, and not so long ago, our consciousness was forced to deem it necessary.
- Antonin Artaud.A snort emitted itself from Tuana's mouth as he watched the Holocast with beady eyes, from his little stingy flat in Corillean. He knew it! Those stupid Jedi, evil? Of course they were. He snorted once more, a hand rubbing over his protruding stomach as he walked over to his revolting kitchen. Honestly, who worked for nothing? Of course there had to be a hidden motive. Tuana shook his greasy head. If only they had asked him for his opinion. Then those dirty Jedi would have died much earlier, and the galaxy would have been much better.
He ran a dirty, blackened hand over his counter, groaning in pain as he made the effort to stretch up and get himself a new plate to eat off of. Stupid cupboard. He hoped, under the Sith's rule, that they would fix these stupid flats. He kicked the cupboard underneath, smirking when he felt the wood yield beneath his booted feet.
He grabbed a handful of noodles, dropping them into his mouth with a dirty hand. Raising his head, he grabbed the remote and turned the sound up on the Holocast.
"- And so," The newsreader began, a series of previous Jedi holocasts flashing behind her, "- the Jedi had been eliminated, by the hero, Darth Vader, leaving the galaxy to nurse the wounds from the harsh rule the Jedi inflicted." She whirled around in her chair, holding a microphone to a small boy's mouth. "Young Inida has agreed to tell us the story of his torture and we hope that it will shed some light and force the remaining Jedi to come out of hiding and reveal themselves. The Emperor promises that there will be no killing involved, only the removal of their lightsabers and the placement of a Force removal chip in the back of their neck. We urge these Jedi to come out of hiding, for their sakes!" She turned back to Inida, raising the microphone once more to his mouth. "Go on, Inida," She urged softly.
Inida shook slightly, a fine sheen of sweat appearing on his brow. Tuana snorted once more, laughing at the kid. Stupid boy, he thought, can't even tell the world about his so called 'journey'.
"It's okay," the newsreader cooed softly. "I'll tell your story instead, okay?" The boy nodded his head softly, before running of the screen.
The newsreader laughed slightly before beginning to speak, telling the world of Inida's torture when he was two, how he was captured by Tusken Raiders, how the Jedi never rescued him, and how he hated them for it. By the end, Tuan was beside himself laughing hysterical, the noodles spilt all over his once white tunic. Those stupid Jedi! The world hated them now! So much, for being defenders of the peace, the 'good guys'. He raised his hands in mock quote, smirking. And what did they have to show for it? They weren't alive, and he was.
Rolling his head back, Tuan closed his eyes briefly, remembering a time not so long ago.
"Ania!"
Whirling around, the young girl smiled softly as her best friend ran over to her, his eyes sparkling with delight.
"How are you Tuana?" She asked, clasping her soft hand in his rough one. A finger brushed wisps of dark hair behind an ear as she smiled at her taller friend. At fifteen, Ania knew that most of the town thought that Tuana and she were going out, but, to be fair, she really wasn't interested in him that way. Sure, he was handsome, with dark hair and mesmerizing green eyes. But they had been friends for ages, and she knew everything about him, as did he.
"I'm fine really," Tuana answered softly, leading her over to the wooden bench that sat parallel to the vast lake. He sat down, still clasping her hand, before turning to gaze at the lake.
She sighed. "And your father?" Ania asked softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
Tuana let out a harsh sigh. "He's getting worse," He admitted softly, turning to her, his brown eyes glazing over slightly. He shook his head. "What am I to do Ania? What?"
"I don't know," She answered, her hand slipping from his grasp. He noticed this, and, gripped it tighter, a frown settling over his face. Ania sighed, rubbing her free hand over her blue eyes. What was happening, Tuana?" She asked, sending a worrying glance to her friend. What?
"I fear for his life," Tuana blurted out softly, tears forming in his ears. "I fear he may die, and I will be left alone. I don't want to be alone Ania!" He let out a loud sob, tears spilling down his cheeks freely.
"Hush," She cooed softly, letting go of his hand and wrapping her arms tightly around his thickening neck. "You'll never be alone," She whispered into his ear. "Never ever, not when I'm around."
He nestled his shaking head into the crook of her neck, his tears wetting her dress. "Sorry," He mumbled thickly into her skin, sending chills up her spine. She laughed, Tuana lifting his head slowly to look at her.
"It's alright," She said, settling back onto the seat. He did the same, his hand searching out hers and grasping it. Ania sent a slight smile to her friend, revealing white teeth. He smiled back, tears gone and his tunic drying. A hand reached up to her dress briefly, touching the wet spot; before she turned her blue eyes to the lake, moonlight reflecting off of its surface, casting the park in an eerie glow.
"We should go," Tuana spoke up suddenly, standing up, her hand dropping from his. "We should go." He repeated, turning on his booted heel.
"Why?" Ania asked, standing up and facing him, a hand reaching out to settle on his shoulders. "We just got here; why do we have to leave?"
"Because we just have to," He answered shaking her hand of his shoulder. "Come," He said, beckoning with his hand behind his-self for Ania to follow him. He made a movement to walk off, his eyes settling on the glow of the nearest house.
'Why!" Ania screamed at him, her feet rooted to the ground. "Why do we have to go? I'm not moving until you tell me," She warned softly, eyes steeling. People often remarked that she had a heated temper, and, tonight, Tuana was receiving the blow of it.
His shoulders slumped, before he turned, a wisp of hair falling into his eye. He walked over to Ania, his feet making heavy noises on the dirt path. A strong hand grasped onto her left shoulders. Tuana gazed into her eyes. "Do you trust me?" He asked softly, bending in towards her delicate ear. She bobbed her head softly. Of course she did. "Good," He whispered, "then trust me on this."
Swiftly, he leant down to her height, his right hand coming up to grasp her other shoulders. Ania shook from the cold, her breath forming white puffs of smoke. Tuan flashed a soft smile at her, before delivering a swift kiss to her almost-blue lips.
Ania's eyes widened, her mouth almost rejecting Tuana's kiss, before she heard a noise behind her and closed her eyes softly. What was Tuana doing? Her mind screamed at her to stop letting him kiss her.
A chuckle came from behind her, hoarse and low. Tuana ended the kiss softly, their lips parting. "Slap me," He mouthed to her. Her hand itched towards his face, before her fingers landed down on his face with a sounding crack.
The man behind her laughed. "Seems you've got a wild one there boy!" He called out.
Tuana laughed slightly, softly with them. He beckoned discreetly for Ania to leave. She shook her head defiantly, feet rotted to the ground. She wasn't going to leave him, not with a man like this! Tuana may have been fit but he wasn't that strong!
"She'll learn to be tamed," spoke up another man, placing a dirty hand on Ania shoulder. She shuddered as her eyes took in the dirt beneath his fingernails, the metallic blood from a gash in his palm spilling onto the blue material of her dress.
Ania turned to face them, blue eyes gazing over their forms. "Please don't ruin my dress," She began softly, not lowering her head as was expect of a girl of her status. These men were clearly higher than her, if not for their dressing sense. Stupid scum of the earth. Bounty hunters. She shuddered as their eyes roamed over her form appreciatively.
"She's nice," muttered a mousy, greasy-haired man whose frame was shorter than his other two companions. He winked at Ania, running a hand through his hair, as he let out a low whistle, his eyes roaming over her once again.
"I agree," said the second man, turning to the first man, an eyebrow raised.
Tuana straightened up softly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Please don't hurt her, sirs. She meant nothing by the slap, I'm sure. She's dreadfully sorry that you had to see that." He nudged Ania's neck and she bobbed her head up and down, praying inside her head that these man would let her go. They just had to!
The first man let out a chuckle. "Stupid boy," He whispered softly, eyes darkening as his right hand crept down to his pocket. Ania felt her eyes widening. "No!" She screamed out as the man drew out his blaster. She knocked Tuana to the ground. The man pulled the trigger and in one second where there was no sound, no movement, the bullet flew through the air. Tuana tumbled to the ground and the bullet pushed into Ania back.
She fell to the ground, panting, as her body screaming in torture in response to the bullet. The first man's eyes widened and he froze in shock. "Oh shit," He muttered before pocketing the blaster and begun running away, the second man and the third following him, their booted feet thudding on the ground as they made their escape.
Tuana crawled over to Ania, blood spilling out of her wound and onto the dirt now. "No," He whispered, covering his face with his hands, sobbing. "No."
Ania blindly searched out for Tuana's face, a finger caressing his cheek. "It's, it's –o-okay," She whispered softly, her back arched, and brow sweaty.
Tuana dropped his hands and cradled Ania's shaking head in his hands. He placed a kiss on her forehead. "Why'd you do that?" He asked softly, gazing at her.
She smiled, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Because," She whispered, "because I'm like that. You know me."
He laughed softly, tears streaming down his face. "I'll get you to a medical centre." He whispered.
She shook her head, wincing as pain struck her in her back. "No use," She muttered, "I'll be dead in a minute anyway."
He wiped a tear away from his face. "I guess I'll have to tell you this now," He began softly, laying down in the dirt next to her, and turning her head to face his. "I love you," He whispered softly at her.
Her eyes widened. "What?" She asked.
"I love you," He repeated softly, a finger tracing the side of her face. "I've loved you forever and ever."
"Oh," she muttered, a hand cupping his face. She kissed him lightly on the lips. "I love you too," She whispered softly back to him.
He returned the kiss with full force, putting all of his emotions into it. She couldn't die. It wasn't possibly her time. It couldn't be. She was a good girl, pure and untainted. Whatever has she done to deserve this?
She closed her eyes softly, lips dropping from his. He cupped her face in his hands, placing kisses on all of the unclothed parts of her body, muttering words against her cold skin.
Still sobbing, he placed one last brief kiss on her lips, before carrying her over to the lake and pushing her in. He watched from the bank as her bloodied form floated gently out of the bay. A finger came up to his mouth in a soft kiss, and he sent it on his way with the wind.
And that night, TuanaLasenaran from the world.
Startled from his sleep, Tuana opened his eyes, a fist coming up and rubbing them. He let out a yawn, stretching his flabby arms high above his head. On the holonet, the newsreader had finished her set, and a male Gungan was speaking now, pointing enthusiastically to the blue screen behind him, his ears flopping. Tuana smirked softly, running a hand through his greasy hair. He looked down slowly, sighing as he saw the wet patches on his ripped tunic.
Shaking his head softly, he decided silently to let it go. A hand grasped around the remote, aiming at the blue screen, turning up so the Gungan's words were audible. He ran a hand over his sweaty face, remote dropped. Ania.
How long had it been since he had thought about her?
Tuana stood up from his chair shakily. At forty-five years old, and slightly morbidly obese, he was not in the best of health he could have been. He padded over to his bedroom, belly swinging softly in front of him.
Once in the bedroom, his grubby hands searched through the sparse belongings in his drawers. A hand clasped around a small photo album, pulling it out of its spot in the second drawer. He sighed once more, padding back to the lounge and taking his place in the seat he had vacated.
He flipped the first page of the album open, a smile playing on his lips as his eyes gazed at the first photo. Ania. He flipped over to the last page, tears appearing in his ears as he looked at the last photo he had ever taken of Ania. A finger traced her outline, smudging dirt onto the print of her once-alive body. He harshly wiped his eyes, drawing his finger away. The photo album was lifted to his mouth and he placed a soft kiss on Ania's face. Oh, how he missed her! She was his life, his heart, and his soul. Why had she not been allowed to live? He asked the question, day after day, hoping, praying, there would be some answer, to show that her death had been of some use.
Not for him, he thought silently as he gazed down at his stomach. Tuana ran a hand over his face and into his hair, feeling the scars and grease that had accumulated after her death. Why wasn't she here? He let out a harsh yell, hand grasping a glass and chucking it at the Holonet, effectively breaking the connection that had previously existed.
Stupid Jedi!
He stood up once more, anger coursing through his veins. They hadn't been able to save her, they hadn't even shown up. It was good they were gone, now lives could be save before they ended.
Tuana slumped back onto his bed, hair flopping over his face. He dropped the album in his hand, sighing as it landed with a thump on the un-carpeted floor. He curled his arms underneath his legs, tears streaming down his face. Why was she gone? It wasn't fair. He loved her. He bloody loved her…
And that night, when he finally succumbed to a restless sleep, his heart stopped beating.
Sarela Nondel.
Life isn't fair. It's just fairer than death, that's all.
- William Goldman.
As a young mother, a wife, and barley eighteen, she often wondered what life would be like, the future. With all the Jedi gone, the defenders of the galaxy and of her planet, Alderaan, would they all perish in death, now that their previous defenders, the Jedi, were all dead?
She shook her thoughts from her head, cooing at the baby in her arms, her baby. Who would look after her; make sure her future was bright? Sarela brushed a wisp of her hair from her face, sighing. She would make sure her child lived. It was her duty.
Sarela walked over to the window and lifted her small daughter up, so she could see the small snowflakes that fell onto the ground outside their small cottage. Staring at them herself, she emitted a sigh. When would Jabel be home?
Rachal squirmed in her mother's arms, letting out a wail. Sarela shushed her softly, placing a soft kiss on her forehead as she walked over to the counter where a bottle of warm milk was sitting. She offered it to Rachal, who grasped it eagerly with her mouth, suckling away the top at it so the milk would fall into her awaiting mouth.
There was a noise gust of wind outside, and Rachal dropped the empty bottle from her mouth with a plop. "All done?" Sarela cooed, lifting her daughter to her shoulder, where she patted her back softly, waiting for a burp to come out of Rachal's mouth. It did, noisily, before Rachal let out a soft giggle, her hands curling up into fists as she pounded them on her mother's back.
"Oh, okay, okay," Sarela answered, setting her softly down in her bassinet. She smiled softly as her daughter closed her brown eyes, lifting her thumb up to her mouth and sucking on it nosily. "Goodnight," She whispered softly as she pulled up the soft, pink blanket over her daughter. Sarela caressed a finger down the side of her face, before leaning in, placing a soft kiss on Rachal's temple.
Sarela gradually straightened up, letting out a yawn as her hands reluctantly stretched up above her head. She brushed wisps of blond hair from her face, letting out a sigh as she collected the empty bottle from her daughter's side.
Placing it on the counter once more, Sarela leant her hands on it, gazing down at them. Where was Jabel? She asked herself silently, sighing.
Her husband, Jabel Nondel was five years older than her, green eyed and black haired. He worked as the official gardener for the Organa household, pruning and weeding the rose gardens, and mowing the elaborate lawns. It was five o'clock. He was supposed to be home now. Unless… something had delayed him? A finger arched on its spot onto of the counter, her fingernail tapping out a calm rhythm that soothed her worried mind.
Shaking her head, Sarela turned around, hands itching for something to do. The Devil finds mischief for idle hands to do, she thought, thinking of an old quote her mother had often said. Mamma. Rubbing a hand over her head softly, sighing, Sarela stepped blindly into the lounge room, gathering papers into her arms and filing them into the oak desk in the corner.
There was a knock at the door, three fast, two slow. Jabel!
She quickly hurried over to the door, blonde hair falling out of its bun as she walked. Sarela unlatched the lock on the door, a smile playing on her lips. Her husband was home.
She swung the door open, the smile disappeared as three men dressed in the Organa household's blue and white officer uniform stared her down, their gazes so intense she dared not to break them. She brushed her hair into a bun, waving with her left hand to invite them in, her right clasping her hair with a black pin.
"We'd rather not," spoke up the first, who looked heavy than the others.
'Why?" Sarela asked. "I'm dreadfully sorry about the mess, but I expected no visitors and well, I've got a young baby. My husband should be behind you, he's just a little late."
The second officer cleared his throat. "Mam, that's exactly what we've come to talk to you about. But we'd rather not come in, because, as you say, you've got a baby, and things, well, may get loud considering the state of things and we'd hate to wake your child up." He cleared his throat softly, an eye gazing down at her state of dress.
Sarela blushed, doing the best to cover herself up with her hands. How embarrassing! She excused herself with a bob of her head, and face flushed, ran to the wardrobe, where she slipped an old, flowery dress on, one that slid quite comfortably over her slight bump that had remained since Rachal had arrived.
She walked quite calmly back to the door, doing her best to remove the red flush from her face. The officers smiled at her arrival and she found herself smiling back.
"You were saying?" She began softly, her fingers weaving in and out of each other before she shook her head softly, cursing her fidgeting.
The first man cleared his throat, before nodding his head towards the third. "Bring him in David," He ordered gently, casting a worried look at Sarela. She was confused. Bring him in? Who was he?
Oh. Her heart raced as she set her eyes on her husband, his green eyes cast downwards, his clothing torn. "Jabel?" She whispered softly, furrowing her eyes at her husband a confused look settling down onto her face. "What's happening? What do these men want with you?"
"Excuse me mam, it is an Alderaanian law to not talk to the prisoners," said the third man, wheezing as he looked at Sarela his brow sweaty as he gasped after his efforts of dragging Jabel's form down the hall.
"Prisoner?" She echoed, clasping a hand to her heart. He gaze rested on Jabel. Oh, what had he done? How could he had possibly been arrested?
Jabel slumped against the wall, black hair falling into his face, before he gazed up at Sarela, a haunted look echoing in his eyes. I didn't do it. He pleaded silently with his eyes.
She shook her head, a hand resting just above her collarbone, in the crook of her neck. "What is going on officers?" She demanded to know softly, "Why is my husband arrested?"
The second man cleared his throat roughly, "Mam, your husband, Jabel Kalean Nondel," He began softly, his eyes gazing concernedly into Sarela's, "has been arrested over the charges of attempted murder on Bail Organa's life. I am sorry to tell you that, if no evidence that he is innocent is found, your husband faces a death penalty. Mister Organa sent us here to inform you of this, and to allow you the option of an half and hour conference with your husband before he is sent to the jail."
Sarela sighed softly, a tear rolling down her cheek. Did she want to talk to Jabel, try to convince herself that he wasn't innocent? Only hours before, he had been preparing for work, laughing with her. How could her sweet and adoring husband attempt murder on his Master? It wasn't possible, but somehow, she knew it to be true. Her husband was guilty. It was a harsh fact, one that created a lump in her throat before, swallowing; she pushed her emotions down inside her.
She sighed once more, removing her hand from its place over her heart. "I politely decline Master Organa's option of a possible conference with my husband, Jabel. I understand the penalty he faces for attempting murder on Master Organa. I do not wish to see him today, nor tomorrow. I thank you for informing me of his arrest, but am angry at the fact you brought him here. I beg of you to leave now, and wish my husband all the best in his trial. Good day," She stepped back into the room, tears sliding down her cheeks.
"Good day," echoed the three men, the first hauling Jabel roughly off of the floor. His dark eyes gazed into her very soul as he was shoved down the hallway, his expression begging her to believe he didn't do it.
She couldn't. Sarela slid down the closed down, landing with a thump on the wooden panels. She gathered her shaking face into her hands, letting out a loud sob, a hand dropping from her face and grasping a ball of the material of her dress.
How could he have done that? How? Her sweet and adoring husband, father to Rachael? Tears streamed down her cheeks, wetting them, as she sobbed loudly, the rain pelting the windows. Thunder broke above the clouds, as she let out a small scream, running her hands harshly through her hair, crying loudly.
Woken from her sleep, and with no idea on what had just happened, Rachael let out a small wail, her fists banging up and down on her mattress. Sarela wiped the tear tracks from her face, breathing deeply, before crossing the room and cradling her daughter in her arms, a lullaby emitting itself from her mouth. She smiled desolately down at her daughter. A gummy smile played across Rachal's lips as she gazed up into her mother's red-rimmed eyes.
"It'll be okay," whispered Sarela into the empty room, trying to convince herself of the fact. It had to be. She would make Rachal's future shine brightly, if not for herself but for Jabel, who had let one stupid emotion keep him from seeing his daughter grow up. She let out a soft curse, crossing the room, her daughter still cradled in her arms.
Sitting down softly on the armchair, Sarela held her daughter close, cooing softly to her. What had Jabel done? Why had he done it? Why would he even have thought it? Bail Organa was a kind master, gentle and caring. His wife, Brehua was the same, and their daughter Leia. Sarela ran a soft finger down the side of Rachal's soft face, smiling sadly at her. Perhaps they would be playmates. Growing up as a princess couldn't be easy, Sarela mused, closing her eyes slightly. Rachal nestled her warm head into the crook of her mother's neck, her nose rubbing against the bare skin. Sarela let out a soft smile, a tear falling from her left eye, as she struggled to keep her emotions at bay.
Rachal closed her blue eyes, whimpering softly as the storm raged out in the grounds. Sarela held her at arms length, a smile breaking out on her lips as she looked at her daughter's delicate features. She would be a heartbreaker. It was too bad Jabel would miss it.
She shook her head, clearing her mind of her thoughts. There was no time for that now; she would ponder over his decisions later.
Sarela stood up, sighing slightly. She cradled her daughter to her chest, feet padding into the bedroom. After placing Rachal down on the green comforter, Sarela walked over to the open cupboard and, pulling an old blue shirt of Jabel's from its hanger, wrapped it around her shivering form, tears falling down her cheeks.
She sat down on the bed, shaking softly, before Rachal let out a whimper and Sarela instinctively clutched her to her chest. "You miss your dada, don't you?" She asked softly, brushing wisps of dark hair from her daughter's face. "I do to. But I promise I will make your future shine, Rachal, I promise you that," She whispered gently, lying down on the bed, Rachal's warm body resting on her shaking chest as she sobbed, the wind howling outside.
Her eyes shut, Rachal's breathing deeply on her chest, Sarela wondered what it would have been like; if the Jedi were not dead. Perhaps the reason behind her husband's attempted murder on his master was panic. Jabel had always loved the Jedi, ever since he had been born. He worshipped them, always thanking the dearly for the job they did in protecting the galaxy. Perhaps now that they were gone, Jabel had panicked, and thinking that his Master would do the same thing and suddenly turn on them, he did what he thought was best for his family and attempted murder.
She took a deep breath, sighing slightly through it. As she settled of to sleep, the storm raging outside, Sarela wondered; what would it have been like if the Jedi had lived? Rachal's future would have been bright, their safety secure and Jabel would be by her side, her husband. A tear trickled down her cheek as her breathing evened and she settled down to sleep, worries erased from her mind for the moment. For a moment.
Many thanks to Megumi Fuu for coming up with the plot bunny that inspired this one-shot.
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