All Allana Skywalker knew about her mother's childhood was that she'd lived in a tipped over AT-AT known as the Hellhound Two. Having been lucky enough to only see the war machinery in Holos or models or museums, she found it almost charming. Like one of those old holos for kids that Face Loran would be in.

Seeing the reality, however, felt completely different.

Allana had heard from her father that feelings and memories could remain in the Force, trapped in certain objects and places, like a sort of residue. That was the idea behind the masks that the Acolytes of the Beyond used.

The Hellhound Two was another one of these places, Allana decided as she followed Valin under the canvas covering the doorway created by the missing bottom panel of the AT-AT. Loneliness pervaded the oxygen of the space, made Allana's arms unnaturally cold.

The space was so small. How had her mother lived there for fourteen years? There was a hammock in the corner, the makeshift kitchen, and a few pots of attempts at preserving what greenery could be found on Jakku.

Allana stood on tip-toe to reach a shelf where there was a doll made of scraps. It resembled an X-wing pilot. Allana had one like it at home, one that her mother made for her as a little girl.

Rey had made this one for herself, Allana realized, her heart breaking at the thought.

"Hey, you gotta come take a look at this."

Allana turned to see what Valin was talking about.

One wall of the AT-At was covered in tally marks, going up the entirety of it.

"She was counting the days." Allana reached out to feel the metal and the cut ridges. "She'd done it since—"

"Since she was first left here," Valin said. "By her parents. I can't imagine— if this was what it took to keep her safe—"

Allana shook her head. "I don't believe that. No parent leaves their child in a place like this forever."

Her parents had left her for a little while. But now, Allana had something to be grateful for. At least she wasn't alone, in those years of exile.

At least she'd had companionship, had been cared for, and Tenel Ka had been watching out for her.

Allana's stomach turned with guilt in memory of the trick that she and the handmaidens had played on her, were playing on her.

Tenel Ka didn't deserve her heir to be running around the galaxy while a fraud stayed in her place.

"We should scout the perimeter."

Valin's voice tugged her out of her guilt and spiral of emotions. Her hand rested on her lightsaber hilt as she nodded.

"Let's check it out, then."

The outside of the AT-AT was empty, except for where an X-wing pilot lay, hidden against the foot of the formerly great war machine.

Allana knelt down to pick it up.

"This belonged to Dosmit Raeh."

Allana thought that part was funny. Then the thought occurred to her— was Rey even really her mother's name by birth? She was so young. . .

Allana set the helmet down, and stood. She could feel Valin's eyes on her.

"I never knew," she said simply. "I'd heard the stories— all of us had. But I don't think any of us really understood what she went through."

Allana could see it all now. She knew factually, why her mother tended to hoard food cans and overstocked the Praxeum's pantry. Coruscanti psychologists could tell anyone that.

But she could feel it in the Force. Memories of a hungry and lonely young girl forced to fend for herself and for what?

That story, the justification, had to be different from what Allana grew up hearing, though. It had to be.

When she was still very little, young enough to be considered a youngling by galactic law, she'd noticed the lack of elders in her family.

Perhaps it was Valin and Jysella themselves and their mentioning of their great-grandfather, Hal Horn. Or maybe it was Tash Arranda speaking about how her grandmother survived Alderaan.

Either way, she'd once asked her mother why she didn't have grandparents.

The Skywalker side was easy to explain— in fact, Allana had long since been aware of that part. Han and Leia had both died in the war— and Han's death had something to do with her dad being the bad guy, once.

Allana wouldn't learn more about that, later.

So Rey did re-explain about the fates of her paternal grandparents, and Allana waited patiently before asking her:

"But what about in your family?" Allana asked. "Didn't you have parents too?"

Rey's smile faltered, and her expression became quite cold.

"I did, but they don't matter now." There was something fierce, as if the words were supposed to be an assurance against a vague threat.

But Allana, at that tender age, had no idea what her mother's words meant.

So she then asked her father.

"They weren't good people," Ben said. "They left her on Jakku alone. She wasn't much younger than you. They had their reasons— but they weren't good ones."

When she was older, Ben once elaborated after Rey had avoided a party with alcohol in it that he was pretty sure her parents had sold her for alcohol.

Then again, Allana was pretty sure he'd been drinking the Corellian Firewhiskey by that point.

It couldn't be as petty as what Ben had said though, Allana thought. Not if Palpatine was her great-grandfather. Was it that her maternal grandparents were evil? Had they left Rey for fun?

Or was it some kind of protection against other evils?

Rey had the answer to the question. Allana could sense that. But Rey wasn't there— not anymore.

Allana sighed, pulling herself out of her memories yet again.

They were here to find clues to help find out what had happened. Allana stared off into the distance, as the sun began to sink on the Jakkuvian horizon.

"I don't think we'll be able to make it out to the observatory," Valin admitted. "We'll need to stay near here for tonight, probably on the Falcon."

"Yeah." Allana looked away from the horizon. "I guess I'll heat up the rations Jannah got for us."

She then walked past Valin, and returned to the Millennium Falcon.

"You know, it's too bad you and Jysella haven't really gotten to talk," Valin said before biting into his portion of the rations. "She really missed you over the past three years."

"Me too," Allana admitted. "I wish I could have sent messages on the HoloNet, to let you know that I was alright—"

"But your survival had to be kept a secret, I understand," Valin assured her. "At least we're all together again. All of the Jedi that survived came to help your sister escape."

Allana swallowed back a feeling of guilt. Who was she really to lead these people, in any capacity?

"We all missed you, by the way." Valin reached out to touch the teal puffed sleeve of her jacket. "Not just Jacen and Jysella. And not just because of the prophecies—"

"I'm sure." Allana set down her portions, no longer hungry. "I remember when those damned crystals were the most stressful part of my life. It was a vague promise of some big destiny ahead of me. But now, it doesn't seem that bad. Every kid believes they're gonna have some great future."

"You're a Skywalker," Valin said seriously. "That means great things."

"But not always good things," Allana reminded him. "Thea did things that would be considered terrible and great."

"You'd never be like Thea."

Allana hesitated. "Sometimes, I don't know about that. We're not like the old Order, Valin. We're not even like Luke's Order, you know. The light and the dark is both inside of all of us, and we draw on both. I'm not some space angel, you know?"

Valin's hazel gaze reminded Allana of before, when she was thirteen years old.

That was when she first saw her older brother's best friend and her best friend's brother as more than that. When she first realized that she was interested in boys and girls in a new way.

There was a time when Allana would have done anything to have Valin look at her like she was some space angel princess.

But while the princess part was accurate on two accounts, the space angel part wasn't, even if she resembled Padme Amidala, who was allegedly as beautiful as one.

"I guess we should get to sleep," Allana said. "We'll have to share the bed, though."

Valin's face turned bright red. He stammered incomprehensibly.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about with just sleeping," Allana informed him coolly as she started cleaning up after their makeshift meal. "Why, on Hapes, sometimes we'd sleep over in one another's rooms, the handmaidens and I—"

"That's different, and you know it," Valin finally said. "It's improper—"

Allana raised an eyebrow. "I'd argue it more improper to leave the princess of the most powerful faction not affiliated with the New Republic alone for an entire night on a barbaric wasteland planet."

"If you're worried about protection, I'll sleep on the floor, no questions asked—"

"Fine." Allana shrugged. "I just thought you'd prefer the bed, since it's softer, warmer, and big enough that we can each take up our own end without touching."

Valin's redness had faded to a bright pink. "If that's your wish, Your Grace."

With that, he disappeared, presumably into the fresher.

Allana rolled her eyes. Boys could be such cowards about their feelings.