He marks time by Leia's height. She has become everything to him now, all he has, and there will be no time after her. While he will continue until the worlds end, she will not.
He thinks about it, of course. How he could use magic to keep her with him. Always. But he doesn't use magic anymore. Not since that one day. And he knows anyway, without asking her, that she wouldn't want him to tear worlds apart to achieve something so unnatural. As unnatural as he is.
"Look at how much I've grown, Papa!" Leia exclaims, interrupting his melancholy thoughts. She is squinting up at the latest mark he has scratched into the face of the red stone wall. Nearly half a finger higher than the last one.
He can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Aye, I see that, little love," he murmurs in reply. "You're growing so fast."
She turns to him and smiles. "Don't worry, Papa," she says knowingly as she wraps her small arms around his neck. "I'll always be your daughter."
And he holds onto this moment and his Leia with all that he has left of his human heart. It's not much but it is everything. She keeps the darkness at bay, the blackness of hundreds of angry souls tamed, and he needs this memory to last for the rest of his wretched eternity.
They eventually take a skiff out onto the water, sailing smartly in and out of inlets. Sometimes he doesn't know what he is capable of until he does it. Raising a child, docking a ship, navigating by the stars. It all feels natural. Normal. And he finds having a routine, being normal, helps. He can be like everyone else, he can have a daughter, a life, and a brief moment of happiness to light the way, to keep the dark away.
But of course something changes. Everything changes. Just like Leia will grow and eventually leave him to the world, the world will distort and remake itself – it will disrupt him, pull him away from what he can handle. It will not leave him in peace, not even in misery or suffering, it must challenge him. And he feels it the moment it happens. Like the world has broken apart and been brought back together. But it's not the same because he can feel his magic stir from where he had hoped to banish it forever, from where his heart beats, in an ironic tattoo, a one-two marching pattern of come back, come back, come back. He doesn't know what he's supposed to come back to, his hand stilling, the spinnaker he was to deploy left unfurled.
"Papa?" Leia asks when the skiff doesn't take off in the water but bobs up and down on the waves instead.
Her voice always brings him back. He turns to smile at her, as though he isn't scared. But he is. Because though whatever it is that has changed, whatever he feels, doesn't seem dangerous or dark, he wants to know, he wants too much. And he knows all about the dangers of wanting without needing to remember it.
Only a day later – or was it two? or an eternity? because it feels like time itself has bent and stretched to torture him – he can't deny the pull, the hum under his veins, the beat inside of him any longer. He leaves Leia with the baker's wife. Though he doesn't menace the village, they all know better than to cross him. Perhaps it's the perpetual scowl on his face or how dark his blue eyes are, nearly black as night. Either way, he knows she is safe amongst warm breads and motherly arms and it's a small comfort to him. He wants to be the one to keep her safe, he wants to not worry about anything but her (he doesn't even want to worry about her but he's a father now and she's his daughter so he will worry). But, he won't risk it. He won't risk her, whatever it is that is calling him.
It is unexpected, like a warm summer storm. Only it's calmer, comforting even. It is beautiful. She is beautiful. And light and achingly familiar. Emma, he hears his companion call her. Emma, Emma, Emma. The name teases him. He likes the sound of it. But it doesn't seem quite right. Not that any of it matters, she's not a lost soul for him to save, she doesn't need someone as broken as him.
He leaves.
She finds him.