A/N: This fic is a canon-divergent AU with a lot of specific differences, and you'll see some of them in this fic. (For instance: Rey, Ben, and Armitage Hux are all very close in age, Rose is Rey's half-sister, Rey remembers her grandmother, Snoke isn't scarred from old injuries the way he is in canon, etc.) If you have any questions about how it works, please ask! And enjoy.

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The room was dim; the lamp on the little table cast only a tight circle of shadow on the bed. The child was sitting up, blankets rumpled in his lap, his head tilted up towards his mother as she sat on the edge of the small bed and spoke softly to him. He thought that she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world, and he loved her fiercely. When she talked to him, or smiled at him, or took him up in her arms—even though he was growing too big for that; he would be very tall, and she was petite—he would trace every feature of her lovely face, every line of her small body, as if memorizing a treasure that might be taken from him at any moment.

His eyes were following the lamplight shining on the curves of her coiled glossy brown hair, and he barely heard what she was saying until she sharply said, "Ben! Are you listening to me?" Then he did listen.

"And we'll have your birthday party tomorrow. Who else are we inviting?" she prompted him.

"Shannara Windu?" he guessed.

"That's right."

"And Tag, don't forget Tag!"

"I wouldn't forget your best friend," said Leia, stroking his brow. "Tag will be here early. Rae Sloane is bringing him to Coruscant on her ship in the morning."

"He's my very best friend in the whole galaxy," Ben said earnestly. "And it's a very super extra special birthday, too. So he absolutely needs to be here. Eight is a magic age, isn't it?"

"That's what they believe on Naboo," she said.

"Grandma was from Naboo."

Leia nodded, a shadow passing over her face.

Ben looked at his mother, or rather almost past her in the way that always made her feel uncomfortable in some way that she couldn't define. Maybe it was the sudden bottomless look in his large dark eyes, as if he saw more in the landscape of his mind than he could ever see in the outside world.

"Sometimes she sings to me in my dreams," said Ben.

"That must be nice, darling." There were several holovids of Padme Amidala, and she'd shown several of them to her son. So it wasn't strange that he dreamed about the grandmother who had died long before he was born. But it was one of those times when it seemed that he was talking about more than what he'd seen, and those always disturbed her.

Ben yawned. "Sometimes I watch her on Mustafar," he said drowsily.

Cold fingers laid themselves along Leia's spine. "Ben, where did you hear about the planet Mustafar?"

"I don't know. It's where she is, though. She stands on the landing strip with the ship behind her, trying to get to Grandpa. It was right before she had to go away into the dark because of the bad General, he was named Greevy or something. And then Grandpa cried. Uncle Obi tried to help, but he couldn't get there in time… Ow, Mommy!"

Leia felt a twinge in her hand and looked down to see that she was clutching at her son's small arm. She forced herself to loosen her fingers.

"It's okay," Ben said earnestly. "Grandma became a new baby far far away after that. She just had to go through the dark first. She lay on a funeral bier with flowers."

Breathe, Leia told herself. Breathe. There was a holo of Padme's funeral, one that had been widely distributed over the years. Ben had seen it, of course. Then he'd invented the rest.

"Ben, you're just imagining a lot of this. Remember what I told you to do when you imagine?"

He nodded. "Draw the imagination, or write a story, or sing a song."

"That's right. But always understand the difference between imagination and reality. Anyway—" She was desperate to change the subject. "Tomorrow, we'll have your special birthday party with a big chocolate cake!"

Ben nodded. "Yes. Eight is special. And I like chocolate."

She rose, bending to kiss her son's forehead. "Will you go to sleep now?"

"Yes."

"Lanara is in the next room if you want anything. She'll come in and check on you too. I'll be back in just a few hours."

He nodded as he lay down in bed. "Good night, Mommy."

Leia closed the door as she left, feeling her son's solemn eyes on her all the way out into the hall.

There were several guest rooms in Leia's luxurious senatorial apartment. She walked to the one located right next to her son's room and tapped the door open. The little girl was sitting bolt upright in bed, and her eyes shifted quickly to the door, as if wary of what an intruder's presence might mean. And no wonder, thought Leia. The poor child had been found crying and abandoned in the desert just outside Niima Outpost on the wretched planet of Jakku. Nothing good had ever happened on that planet in all of its recorded history as far as Leia knew. The forces that would later become the Criminal Confederacy had fought the Republic some twenty-five years before, and their crashed ships provided the means for a few scavengers to barely eke out a living. Besides that, the only trade on Jakku was crime, mostly overseen by Zantar the Hutt. He liked to portray himself as a kindler, gentler alternative to his late and unlamented uncle Jabba. Leia wasn't so sure the rosy portrait was accurate, but it was impossible to get anyone else in the Senate to agree that the Hutts on Jakku should be investigated.

Little Raina had been lucky to escape the child slavers, who snatched children for the stars only knew what purpose, each reason likely worse than the next. All anyone could find out was that she was six years old, nearly seven, and her family had left Jakku, which meant it was worse than pointless to keep her there. She was placed on a transport along with dozens of other children and brought to Coruscant as part of Leia's initiative to draw attention to the plight of so many Outer Rim planets. After weeks of bureaucratic dithering about where she should be sent, Leia had firmly said that she'd take her in until the decision was made. She managed to leave out several choice but unflattering descriptions of the idiots who were more interested in using the children for political purposes than in bothering their heads about such minor matters as what should actually happen to them. For her, this was a triumph of diplomacy.

The child had arrived the day before, and Leia secretly hoped to keep her for at least a few weeks. She was sharp and clever, and could be a wonderful playmate for Ben.

"Are you ready to go to sleep, Raina?" Leia asked, sitting on the edge of the child's bed, as she had done with her son.

"I think so," said the child, in a clear, precise voice.

"Do you like it here?"

"Yes, very much, thank you," said Raina gravely. "But I miss my sister Rose."

Leia wondered if she should try to give the child false reassurance. No. In the face of that level, dark-eyed stare, she could only tell the truth. "If it's possible, we'll find her," said Leia. "We'll do everything we can."

"Also, I don't expect to stay long," added Raina. "But thank you for taking me in as a guest."

Leia smothered a smile. The child seemed wise far beyond her years. I hope she's wrong, though…

"Well, we're trying to find everyone from your family," said Leia. "We're trying hard, Raina. But we might not be able to do that. All we know is that they left Jakku a year ago."

"I know. That's when Grandma went away," said the child. She sat up in bed, her back propped against the wall. Small, compact, her dark auburn hair slipping out of a braid, her dark golden eyes serious beneath straight dark brows. A pretty child, and an unforgettable one.

An old soul, thought Leia, and involuntarily, she shivered.

As she had done with her son, she pressed a kiss on the child's brow before leaving. "Goodnight, Raina. You can meet my son tomorrow; would you like that?"

"Yes, thank you," said the child, lying down to sleep and tucking the blanket carefully around her shoulders, as if afraid that a thief might snatch it from her at any moment.

Leia walked briskly down the elegant corridor, the spikes of her black heels clattering against the marble floor. There was no need for her to walk anywhere in the 500 Republica, of course; at the most exclusive address on Coruscant, residents rarely exerted themselves in that way.

In fact, she could have used the new matter transporter in her apartment. They'd been available for several years, ever since the Federation had begun to trade with systms in far eastern wild space, south of Teth. Some hardliners from the old Republic didn't trust them, but Leia knew that they worked and were safe. They certainly saved a lot of walking or transport around Coruscant, between ships, and even to the closest neighboring planets. But she wanted to walk and needed the exercise to at least attempt to clear her mind. It was turning out to be a vain attempt.

She couldn't stop thinking about the child Raina, for one thing. An old soul. That's what I thought about her. But why on earth did I think of that? Many people on Naboo believed in rebirth, especially among the Gungans, and she'd often wondered if her mother had too. Any beliefs related to localized gods and spirits were tolerated, unlike the forbidden Force. But any discussion of such topics was not encouraged in the heart of the Republic on Coruscant, to say the least. She had no idea why thoughts about reincarnation might have occurred to her then, when talking to the odd, solemn child from Jakku.

Maybe it was because she so often had the same thoughts about her own child.

He'd talked about reincarnation several times in the past year, although without using that term, of course. He'd just described his grandmother as being reborn after her death. He'd spoken about Padme's murder on Mustafar at the hands of General Grevious, the crime that Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn had tried so desperately to prevent. Try as she might, Leia just couldn't come up with a believable scenario where her eight-year-old son could have known enough about the incident to describe it in the way he had. The exact details had never been public knowledge. Her father, Anakin Skywalker, had once told her the story with a tight-lipped finality that warned her never to bring it up again, more thoroughly than any explicit warning ever could have done. She was pretty sure that he'd never told anyone else—except, of course, for Luke.

So how did Ben know these things?

As always, these moments chilled her, when her son seemed to know more than he should or could. It was dangerous, that sort of knowledge. Her own father had forbidden prophecy, telepathy, and clairvoyance along with any resurgence of the Jedi and Sith Orders. She knew why, of course; everyone knew why. Senator Palpatine would never have been able to try to seize power and make himself into an Emperor almost forty years earlier if the Jedi hadn't failed. Their legacy was one of failure, as her father had so often said. They had invited evil by refusing to see its rise. The only way to stop such a takeover attempt from ever happening again was to outlaw both Jedi and Sith, to eliminate both light and dark. The galaxy lived in the peaceful gray center now, as it had since that day. Anakin Skywalker was the president emeritus of the Republic. Their democracy was strong. Everything was all right.

Except for Luke. Oh Luke, will I ever see you again? Will you ever come back? Will our father ever even mention your name again?

But she had buried that heartbreak years ago.

So why did she have all of these strange, shivery moments of unease, mostly centering around her son?

One answer came to her right away. The situation with her husband was enough of a reason on its own.

Leia narrowed her eyes, turned a corner, and kept walking, ignoring the goggle-eyed glare from a protocol droid hurrying to an apartment with an elegant ball gown in a bag over one metal arm.

Damn Han to his Corellian hell! Why wasn't he here? Why was she expected to wait patiently at home while he flew off on some adventure or other with Chewbacca or that irresponsible friend of his, Jahangoll Fett? Yes, it was all well and good to say that he needed to make sure the Fetts stayed loyal to the Republic. But they'd been sworn to the cause ever since Qui-Gon had saved Jango Fett's life almost fifty years earlier. If any of them were going to turn traitor, Leia was pretty sure it would have happened by now. So why wasn't Han living up to his responsibilities? Above all, why wasn't he helping her more with Ben, her troubled, beautiful child? Why did she have to do everything?

There were times when she never wanted to leave Ben's side, wanted to hold him close all the time and reach into his spirit with frantic hands, molding every potential darkness that frightened her so much into safe and serene light. But she knew that overprotecting her son wasn't the answer and would only make him resent her. When to clutch tightly, when to let go; there was a time for both, but how to know when? Han should have helped her, should have stepped up to his responsibilities. Instead, he kept kriffing off to the far edges of the galaxy.

But each time he left her, she missed him a little less. And the pain of not missing him was more acute than missing him would have been.

A protocol droid opened the door. "Senator Leia! How delightful to see you. It's a perfectly lovely party, and I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself immensely. Do come in. I'll get you a beverage staightaway. I particularly recommend the Sunrise Over Alderaan, with a garnish of Jogan fruit."

She smiled slightly, reminded of C-3PO. "Yes. That drink would be fine, thank you." The stronger the better!

The party was already underway, the huge dining room filled with elegantly dressed diplomats. The scent of perfumes and exotic flower arrangements drifted over tables filled with exquisite rare foods; the air hummed with chatter and laughter and an underlay of soft music from the Bith band on a dais in one corner. An atmosphere of extremely refined corruption drifted through the room, thought Leia as she took the drink from a tray. Sweet-smelling, delicious, and very costly. And yet, corruption nonetheless.

The apartments for the Queen of Naboo were the most expensive that she had ever seen for any ruler or politician from that planet, thought Leia as she began to drift around, exchanging meaningless pleasantries. Some of the most trusted inner worlds were becoming venal and corrupt, their rulers interested only in what they could get for themselves—exactly the same sorts of problems that had led to the Separatist rebellion decades earlier, Leia knew. The queenship of Naboo was a good example. An office that had once been elected by popular acclaim was now for sale to the highest bidder. But her father wouldn't hear anything against Naboo because her mother had once been its queen.

Queen Karana caught sight of Leia and bustled towards her, the train of her elaborate golden gown held up by two handmaids. The jewelry dripping from her ears and neck and wrists was worth a fortune; the glittering rings with their enormous rare stones were the ones that Padme had worn only on the most important state occasions, not a diplomatic party.

"Dearest Leia!" Karana gushed in an affected voice. "How very glad I am to see you. We haven't spoken in far too long."

Time to be diplomatic, thought Leia. She stifled a sigh, placed a smile on her face, and hoped that the evening would go quickly.