A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for coming to read my story.

A few quick notes - this work is a re-write of my story Lucky Luke. However, you needn't have read that one to understand this one. I just decided to re-write the series with some pretty big plot-point changes.

Also, this story will be from two separate 1st person POVs: those of Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa. You will learn more about the universe and how things ended up the way they are (the Empire reigning) as the story goes on.

Hope you enjoy reading!

OOO

Chapter I – Luke, Leia

(Voice of Luke Skywalker)

Many living on Tatooine thought the desert barren. Of course, when looked at only on the surface level, it could certainly seem so. Once, I had believed as much. But then, I learned to look deeper. Look beneath—look within—and you could find something entirely different than the barrenness of the desert.

You found life, and efflorescence.

The suns that beat down with their scorching heat carried the energy of a thousand hearths within them; creatures small and large scuttled around the sands, going about their life cycle with persistence; large creatures dwelled beneath the sands, like the Sarlacc, patient as they awaited the next meal to sustain them; the winds, so very harsh to the human, nonetheless blew an evanescent tale, its mysterious language hard to parse and yet necessary to listen to, for its wisdom faded so quickly; and once, every eyon, a rain would come, and bring new life to those little shoots that persisted in growing up from the sands, and bring new life to the people toiling beneath the desert suns.

No, the desert was certainly not a barren place.

As I stretched out with my feelings, I knew the lungs of the desert. The desert inhaled, drawing in sun and light and strength for a new day. The desert exhaled, allowing life and growth to continue in spite of all perils and difficulties. In time, I became one with that breath.

As I stretched out even further, I became one with the heart of the desert. That ever-beating, continually resilient organ of the sands and winds and dryness, continuing on ever more. I knew the younglings of the world, playing their games, laughing their laughs; I tuned into their joy and purity. I knew the farmers, toiling each day beneath the broiling suns, their drops of sweat onto the sand like the subtlest rain. I knew the beat, beat, beat of Tatooine life, ever continuous, ever toilsome, always resilient. I knew the sands themselves, every single grain that gave way to the seas which seemed to roll on forever per the tune of the desert's endlessness—

Suddenly, then, my attention caught on a sensation, something almost hidden beneath the sands, like the great shadowed mass of a Sarlacc. My senses brushed along the darkened depths. Down there… Down there—

I pulled back so sharply the whiplash reverberated through my very spirit. Focusing on my breath until I stilled the suddenly stilted beating of my heart, I slowly returned to what could be crudely defined as my "self," and "my" own breath and circulation. I opened my eyes, grounded back in the now and my own body. I remembered the name given me, and the subsequent responsibilities it accorded. I breathed out—sharply this time—as I remembered the realities facing me— literally facing me.

Because now, my diminutive aunt arched one slate eyebrow at me. Probably she'd been there for longer than I wanted to know. Aunt Beru stood in the center of the garage, the very same one I'd once used to dream and doze about serving the Empire; now, I used it to break Imperial law. "You know," she remarked, "I don't think I ever will get used to that–you being here… but not here."

I grinned, pretending I didn't notice how thin and pale she seemed today. "Never quite get used to it myself." After years of training and practice, it remained true.

She chuckled at this. "Come in," she ordered. I knew we wouldn't discuss my illicit activities any more. "Breakfast is done."

"Breakfast–? But…" I checked my chrono, believing I'd somehow lost track of the time. But no. I finished in my head, It's only six o'clock, and I purposely woke up early to meditate and then make it so you wouldn't have to .

"No buts," came the scolding. "You'll need a good meal before you head out to Toshe Station. Who knows how long you might have to wait?"

I wanted to protest—though I wasn't sure what defense I could mount now that she'd done it already—cooked—but I also knew better than to mess with that look in her eyes. No matter how old I got, I knew I'd always be my aunt's little boy. So of course she saw no problem with ordering me around, or embarrassing me, when the moment merited. Like now, when she stared me down waiting for me to accept my big breakfast like a growing boy should.

Never mind the fact that I was thirty-one years old.

"Thanks, Aunt Beru," I mumbled, head ducked.

She gave me a kiss on the cheek; her lips felt like leather. "That's my boy. Come, now."

I would need to tell to her how I didn't want her to push herself like this. In fact, I already had. Several times. But she just didn't get it. This had been her whole life–the settlers' life–and no matter what, she seemed determined to keep on. Cancer or no cancer.

As I sat down to breakfast, managing a smile of gratitude for her at the heap of food arranged before me, I decided that I'd find a nice way to put it. Later. For now, I'd show my gratitude to the woman who had raised me. After all, she was one of precious few people I had in my life, one of even fewer to be party to the majority of my secrets.

OOO

A wind sharp as a knife's blade had picked up around Toshe Station. As I dismounted from my feebly puttering speeder bike, whose engine wheezed out like an old man after a coughing fit, I had to shield my eyes with the flat of my hand in order to avoid the torrent of dust and sand gusting toward me. It wasn't an all-out sand storm yet, but I knew to get inside before it became one. Eyes squinted, I surveyed my ramshackle options for shelter.

Toshe Station had gone downhill since its heyday in my childhood. I'm talking a steep slope. While it'd never been exactly a five-star resort experience, proprietors had always striven to maintain a semblance of tidiness, order, and pride in the appearance of their shops—within and without. But not any longer. The taxes levied by the Hutts and the "tributes" to the Empire took all possible credits not used by us to eat. If we even got lucky enough for that. I knew that we were fortunate, Aunt Beru and I, to be providers of water. It kept us financially afloat enough. Most of the time.

Still. We were lucky, the citizens of Tatooine. The Empire all but ignored us. Yes, that was because Tatooine had virtually no use to the Empire—or anyone on the world itself for that matter—but we got ignored instead of the worse option: watched. Used. Rung out, then hung out to dry like bones left exposed to the elements.

We'd heard the stories. Of Umbara. Raxus. Castel and so many others.

"Tatooine," I mused laconically, "where you can starve to death in relative peace." After saying it out loud, I spared a quick glance to my left and right, heart suddenly picking up pace as it had in my morning meditation. You never knew who might be listening. I never knew if anyone might…

Might glimpse some whisper of the shadowed secrets housed within my heart, and that I must thusly answer for them. More than anything else that thought made my abused heart pound.

"How's the crop?" Windy asked as we waited in the general store for Camie to make an appearance—or not. You never really knew for sure with her (thus the day-long venture that going to Toshe Station invariably became). At thirty-four, Windy Starkiller had had several failed careers, and looked like it: his leathery skin and tired eyes attested to a life filled with too many disappointments, and the fatigable rise and fall of his voice seemed more like that of an old man than one only a year older than me.

"Can't complain," I replied. "Yours?"

"Oh, fine enough. Pretty dry lately, isn't it?"

"Yeah, for sure. Salie good?"

"She's alright."

"The kids?"

"Growing like shoots. I think Kipa's gonna be a real good hand."

"That's great. She seems prone to it."

"Mmhm. Your aunt okay?"

"Eh." I managed a smile, chest suddenly tight. Why did everyone have to bring her up? I knew why: because many loved her. But I wished they'd just leave it alone.

The inevitable was coming. We should all just make it as smooth as possible.

Windy gave me a pat on the back, his sympathy grinding on my nerves like a strained instrument chord being repeatedly plucked. "She'll be alright, Wormie. She's strong, ya know."

Yeah. Of course. But all the strength in the galaxy couldn't—"Thanks. Though," I rerouted, "I seriously wish you'd forget that nickname already."

"With all the kids calling ya 'Lucky Luke,' these days, I've got to keep the old nickname alive." He then added, hushed, " Wormie ."

"Good to know some things haven't changed," remarked a voice with apparent amusement. We both looked to the door, which had rattled open without our notice. My jaw dropped.

Windy didn't lose his words. Shaking his head, grinning, he uttered, "Biggs Darklighter. I'll be damned."

Yeah… My thoughts exactly.

Biggs Darklighter. My once best-friend. The man I hadn't seen in almost fifteen years. And now, an Imperial Captain.

Well well well , I thought. So it's gonna be one of those days .

OOO

I had to speak, but words failed to reach my mouth. What could I say to this man? Once, he had been my best friend, my closest confidante; I would've said, could've said anything to him. (Well–almost.) But now… Now, I hadn't seen him in almost fifteen years, much longer than we were ever friends—and he'd been an Imperial for that long, too. Albeit he didn't look it at the moment.

No. His civilian-issue cobalt cloak rippling in the faint breeze afforded by the half-working store fan above us, Biggs strode up to Windy–and consequently close to me–and gave him a handshake. "Windy? Is it you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Well, I'll be. How are you?"

Windy, for his part looking like he might faint at the fact that the Great Captain Darklighter remembered his name, pumped his hand like an idiot before effusing, "Good. Good. Stars, it's a shock to see you, Biggs–I mean, uhm, Captain Darklighter."

Biggs gave a good-natured chuckle."It can still be Biggs, kid. Good to see you again." Then, he turned to me, and I wished a big black mass would open up beneath my feet and swallow me whole. Sarlacc. Black hole. I'd take anything, really, with gratitude. "Luke? Is it really you?"

"You're not sure either."

Biggs gave a good natured smile, but I sensed he'd been off-put. Me too, I thought. "You do seem changed."

If only you knew . "Oh, the beard," I remarked, beginning to find words, inconsequential as they may be. "Yeah. Well. Aunt Beru hates it, too." I tugged on it a little.

Idiot .

"I think it's nice."

No, he didn't. Did he think himself so immured to tells? Or maybe I only saw him clearly via the Force. "Seems you've grown into a good liar," I commented.

Only after seeing Windy's horrified expression did I remember who I was talking to. Not Biggs, the even bigger jerk. Captain Darklighter.

Imperial.

We all knew what any Imeprial could do to us inconsequential farmers.

"Well, for a politician, I mean," I added.

Biggs cocked his head, studying me even as I studied him. "We officers aren't much into politics," he remarked.

"You'd have to be, to advance as much as you have." Flattery helped, right? I'd heard as much, though never employed it before this.

"...well. Everything has an element of politics, doesn't it?"

"I wouldn't know, humble farmer that I am. So I cede to your wisdom, sir." I kept my eyes wide and earnest.

Biggs's laugh came softly, but resonantly. Windy's gaze kept flicking back and forth between us, like he was watching a speeder crash but just couldn't look away. Then, Biggs remarked, "Maybe you haven't changed so much after all, Luke."

You might be surprised . "So," I said, rerouting. "What brings you here?"

"To Tatooine or this shop?"

"Well I know why you're here in this shop."

"Do you?"

"Of course. You were hoping to see me." I smiled lightly.

Only when the flicker of shock fissured through him in the Force did I realize I'd hit the nail on the head—and started feeling hot as anything. Really? He actually had come here hoping to see me?

Why?

Maybe—after all this time—could be really—?

I cut off that line of thinking, and pulled myself together. Mostly. "But I'm also assuming you came to Tatooine for the celebrations?" I remarked, doing my utmost to keep my tone even.

"Oh. Yes. Exactly." Biggs coughed once.

Windy jumped in, "You know, since Camie's not showing I think I'll go see if I can find her. Really nice to see you again, Cap—I mean, Biggs." With that he all but dove from the shop. At least the sand storm had stopped now, so he wouldn't be putting himself at risk. Probably he'd felt it riskier to stay in here regardless.

I turned my back on Biggs, walking over to ring the rusted service bell on the dusty and decrepit counter again. It gave a dull chime. Then, silence descended again, like a fist.

Biggs Darklighter. Of all the unfortunate times to come back to Tatooine, he had to pick now. Okay, so, I realized it was for the big Empire-day parade being held to celebrate another year of tyranny, but still. That I had to be here when he came to Toshe Station… apparently hoping for just this outcome. Whereas I'd hoped never to see the man again, after everything. Though as anyone who lived on Tatooine knew, hope often came to little…

I shut my eyes, doing my best to force back the slimy sensation slithering through me. It reminded me too much of my short-lived morning meditation encounter. Still Camie didn't come. Still Biggs didn't speak.

Seemed he had nothing to say to me, either, when it came down to it. After all, what did two men who had once been boys who took entirely separate life paths when once they'd planned never to be pulled apart say to each other?

Somehow I found the fortitude to turn back around. I found him watching me with mingled confusion and sadness, and a spice of arrogant offense. I couldn't stand any of it.

In the end, I copied Windy's words verbatim. "It was good to see you again, Biggs," I lied.

I knew he didn't believe me. Unlike him, I wasn't a good liar. "You too, Luke."

He sounded like he meant it. The asshole .

In the end, I walked back to my speeder feeling, quite simply, sad. So much seemed wrong, difficult, and barren in this life. It often took all my willpower to remind myself this wasn't wholly true. Especially when I'd just faced down what my former best friend had become.

Even on Tatooine, we heard of the fearsome Biggs Darklighter, the ruthless Imperial Naval officer. Naturally it wasn't presented that way. Biggs was the hero, the boy from home to make good in the big Imperial galaxy. But one could read between the lines.

For the ten-millionth time in my life, I wished I couldn't.

But the Empire was here, and now, and even though the day's suns were high and bright in the sky, it felt like walking through an endless night. One guided by the lightless moon that was the so-called "Peace Star". One helped to continue on by the very man I'd once known as friend. A night I hadn't been able to stop years ago.

Maybe I never would. After all, what was I doing to change anything? What could I do to change anything?

Face down the whole of the Empire with a laser sword?

But it all made me think back to the day I'd realized things wouldn't go so heroically as I'd believed. The day the fledgling rebellions of the galaxy collectively gave up hope. The day I decided to finish what Obi-Wan had begun with my training. Little had I realized none of it would do any good, in the end.

As the day wound to a close, the suns began to sink low in the sky, signaling the start of another long night. Better get home now, before the Tuskens had a chance to come out.

OOO

The room remains silent. Only the subtle echoes of desolation and despair sound. I feel it as much as I see it.

Cassian Andor slams his fist down on the table. "You're telling me that you won't even fight?" he snarls.

The head of the Millipedes, the Corellian resistance group, eyes him remotely. "There's nothing that we can do, Andor. We aren't equipped to take on this kind of battle."

"But listen—" Jyn Erso protests, a fervency in her eyes. "My father didn't go to all this effort just to have us give up. It's flawed. We can destroy it!"

"With what?" the leader fires back, her eyes cold. "We're the most equipped rebellion in the galaxy, but we don't have enough. No one has enough to defeat something of this size, scope, and scale—except the Empire. Since they'll hardly destroy their own station…"

Their own planet-killer, I think darkly. No. They won't destroy it. That much is sure.

Which means it has only one purpose, since the Millipedes won't fight: destroying all rebellion across the galaxy. If only, I think. If only someone had been able to form a united rebel force. If only Breha and Bail Organa, Mon Mothma, and so many others hadn't been lost three years ago. If only Obi-Wan—

But 'if only's get us nowhere. Not now.

"What will you do?" asks Jyn as we walk away from the angry, discouraged, and altogether defeated group of rebels.

I shake my head. "I don't know." But I realize in the aftermath of my statement that isn't true. "Finish my training, if I can. Somehow. Maybe, once I have, I can figure out a way."

Obi-Wan might be gone, but he isn't forgotten. Surely I can find some way to finish my Jedi training. Then I must be able to see a way forward.

"Let's hope we all can," Cassian agrees, echoing my thoughts. "That we find a way forward. Somehow…"

"Or we'll condemn the galaxy to an eternity of submission," Jyn agrees, finishing all of our thoughts .

OOO

(Voice of Leia Organa)

A glittering sun. Snow-capped mountain peaks. Flags of the Aldera region, fluttering crisply in the breeze. Velveteen silk, settling around my shoulders. Shining gems, woven through my hair. A bluish metal droid bustling around with varying attendants.

The crown, placed within the nest of braids created for it, its weight greater than one could ever imagine.

I opened my eyes, and took in my reflection. One of my attendants, Felice, gave an encouraging smile. "You look beautiful, Your Majesty."

Beautiful. Yes. I knew that I did. Though a fine line of difference lay between looking beautiful—and feeling beautiful. For all I saw the regal, straight-backed woman looking back at me from the mirror, I felt the deepest loathing.

It always came, on this day. Fifteen years hadn't numbed it.

Fifteen years. Could it truly be so short a time? I felt so much older. So much sadder. So much… heavier…

Hollowed out.

I turned away from the Queen in the mirror, girding myself for the day. It would be yet another one of hardship, as they all were. No point in dwelling. Get to work. "Thank you, Felice."

OOO

Since Empire Day on Alderaan was a state occasion in addition to a planetary one, it meant that I lead and organized the majority of the celebrations, whilst naturally making sure to include a bevy of Imperial guests and Imperial display. Although the line was thin and blurry after year upon year of Imperial intrusion, I still ruled the world. Technically anyway. They believed me in their pockets.

Maybe it was true, in the end. I didn't want to believe it, but… my mother had been wise to say goodness is proven by action. "Anything else is mere vanity," she'd once said.

Maybe I'd turned vein. Maybe my mother wouldn't think much of me now, were she here to know me. But she wasn't, and neither was my father, and it was because of the very Empire that I had to today pretend to celebrate. Never. Hatred reared in my heart, potent and hot. I had to take a moment to gather myself before heading out onto the terrace, on which Han and I breakfasted every morning with our daughter.

The very daughter who faced me now, a smile lighting her thin lips, a bell-clear joy in her honey eyes. Han's eyes. That was probably the only claim to resemblance of either of us that our daughter had.

"Good day, Mother," she greeted, dipping me a graceful curtsy, her elaborate crimson gown fluttering around her in the morning breeze. I knew the gown to be of Imperial colors, a tribute, but all I could think of was of blood. My parents' blood… The Rebellion's blood… "Very happy Empire Day." Her smile was bright, her Imperial zeal barely contained within the regal airs she always put on.

"Thank you, daughter. Good day," I replied, digging my nails into my arm, which I clasped tightly behind my back.

Then Han strode onto the balcony, effectively pulling me back from my dark line of thought. Oh, he cut a fine figure indeed in his Viceroy's coat and uniform, specially donned for this occasion. A smile playing on his lips, he shot me a wink. A fissure of attraction flew through me, and I couldn't resist kissing him back when he inappropriately sized me for one, much to our daughter's delight. After being married to Han for the better part of twelve years, I still knew the same heat that always made it exciting to have him as my husband.

As we sat down for breakfast, the servitor droids rolling up and away and then back again with the various courses, our daughter chattered away, effectively filling the silence. Excited beyond measure for the celebrations 31st anniversary of the Empire's founding would bring, our thirteen-year-old went on about the coming parade, the speeches (including one I would give, lying all the while), the banquet to be had this evening, and the fireworks that would light tonight's sky. She discussed in depth what Alba Tarkin, her best friend and childhood companion, heiress to the Tarkin line, told her was occurring on Coruscant this year. "Of course, with the recent deaths of Prince Aidan and Princess Kiria, the Emperor felt the need to keep things at a smaller scale. But I understand that the Heir may make an appearance. How thrilling it all must be there on Imperial Centre! Oh, not to impugn the celebrations here, Mother. They shall be splendid still."

I gave her a nod, wondering how anyone could love the Empire as my daughter did. Naturally, I'd made sure her tutors inculcated it, as a safety measure, but still… How could anyone be so naïve? Hoping to see a similar line of thinking in my husband, I glanced to him, but he was smiling at her like she was his sun and stars, and she was smiling back like he hung the nonexistent Alderaanian moon in the sky each night.

Sigh.

I wished I could love her as Han did. Really I did. But… in my heart I knew that I didn't. Especially today, when my heart was too filled with lead to feel anything else. I was almost thankful to listen to my daughter's never-ending stream of How Great the Empire Is. Part way through breakfast, Han grabbed my hand and squeezed tightly. I managed a smile back.

He knew. He was one of few who did.

As we wound up breakfast and prepared to head toward the parade, which we would open, my daughter suddenly thrust forward a small, poorly wrapped package. Maybe the wrapping droid had malfunctioned.

"For you."

I glanced at Han, who simply shrugged. But out of the corner of my eye I caught his wink at her, and she consequently beamed at him. Oh, boy. What had these two done?

Resignedly I unwrapped the package. Within, I found a fancifully adorned album consisting of collected Holo images spanning my reign. Quickly paging through, I saw my crowning, done by the Imperial magistrate sent to Alderaan during the turbulent days of my parents' capture and trial, then me with Tarkin at some Imperial function (me smiling, remarkably convincingly), then me at my wedding to Han, already showing some signs of pregnancy, and finally, one of me at Commemoration Day about ten years ago–

When I shut the album sharply, I found my daughter frowning. "It does not please you, Mother?"

"Of course it does." But I heard how flat my voice sounded. How could I love my daughter deeply as Han did, when she didn't know any of the truth of the Empire, or what we really "celebrated" on Commemoration Day? How could Han have helped her with this project? (I caught him frowning at me. I glared back.)

Before the parade began, I strode down the hall and into a quiet room. I didn't want to know what I looked like, given how droids and staffers alike automatically veered out of the way for me to pass by, their smiles dimming. It couldn't be good. But how could I find it within myself to smile, on today of all days? Yet another day that reminded me with rapier precision of my parents' brutal demises? How the nascent rebellion they'd been building was crushed by the fist of the very man with whom I had to pretend to be friendly? Terrible images, the likes of which I always did my best never to think of, rose up in my mind like a great dragon waking from a long slumber.

Getting to Paucris Major moments too late.

Watching the Imperial fleet demolishing the nascent rebellion.

Knowing my father was in their custody.

Coming back to Coruscant, getting arrested.

Seeing my mother and father brought low before That Creature, his heavy rasping breathing, the crimson blade that ignited, then sliced through their necks–while I had to watch, pretending approval!–

I shut my eyes tightly against the hot tears I refused quarter, breathing in and out as steadily as I might, forcing myself not to think of it, not to think of it, not to think of it. If I thought of it now, I would fall apart. Once, the rage and pain had fueled me. Now, without hope of vengeance for it, only pain was left, and pain might give way to immobility.

I couldn't let down the last thing which my mother and father had willed to me: Alderaan.

Straightening up, I smoothed out the rumpled edges of my skirts. I adjusted the crown on the top of my head. I threw my shoulders back, raised my chin high, and reminded myself that no matter what, I was still the Queen. My duty. My people. It was all that remained. I must give them all, no matter how hopeless I felt inside.

Empire Day. Let it come, I thought, knowing that it always would, forevermore, until death met me.

OOO

A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading! If you did, please consider leaving a review, because I really value hearing what you all think. Thanks.

Warm wishes,

Hope