Thanks to Elessar-Lover, random-idiot, and Celtic Cross for your reviews. And welcome and thanks to Mark C. for your reviews of the earlier chapters. I appreciate it!
A Journey of Discovery ― Book Two: Pledge
Chapter Ten
The engaged couple's first destination at the Festival was the frozen pond, where Mara introduced Luke to the fine art of ice gliding. Luke took a liking to the unique activity immediately, grumbling in protest when Mara called a halt to the exercise, until he realized she was directing him toward the many food booths erected around the grounds. After sampling every confectionery, sweetmeat, and puff-torte that was thrust into their outstretched palms, he and Mara strolled over to the inviting atmosphere of the Lucky Red Bone Pub. It was there that the tranquil, idyllic image of the peaceful planet was marred.
―――
"Look, there's Aerie," Mara noted, sweeping her gaze across the crowded room as she and Luke stood in the doorway. "And that must be her husband."
"Yes, that's Jaco," Luke confirmed, raising his hand in greeting to his new friend. "Let's see if we can find a place to sit near them."
There were, in fact, two vacant seats at the Modesas' small table, and Aerie insisted the newcomers join them.
"Aerie, this is Luke." Mara made the brief introduction. "Luke, this is my friend Aerie whom I told you about."
"Pleased to meet you." Luke shook her hand warmly. "It sounded like you and Mara had a good time last night."
"Aye, we had a grand time," the blonde replied. "Mara could hardly keep from talking 'bout ye." As they all took their seats, Aerie whispered aside to Mara, "He's just as cute as ye said."
Luke, unfortunately, overhead Aerie's statement, and covered his embarrassed grin with one hand. He delighted in Mara's obvious discomfort, unaware that the tables were about to be turned.
"Mara, have ye met me husband Jaco?" Aerie continued, oblivious to the looks being exchanged by the other couple.
"Hello," Mara said simply, taking the proffered hand across the table. Her hopes that the young man would not remember her were soon dashed.
"Aye, yes," Jaco replied, returning her greeting. "Ye seem to be in a much improved mood than the last time I saw ye," he observed, to Mara's chagrin. After giving a sly look in Luke's direction, he added, "Luke musta taken our advice last night."
Luke's eyes grew wide and he shook his head worriedly, as Mara asked the inevitable "And what advice was that?" She took note of her fiancé slumping down in his chair. "Skywalker?"
"Nevermind," Luke mumbled, though he knew it was a hopeless request.
Mara then turned her determined attention back to Jaco, who suddenly wished he'd never brought up the subject. "What kind of recommendations were you giving out? Does it concern me? Luke is rather impressionable, you know. He believes anything. And what makes you think he took this advice?"
"Uhh... uhh...," Jaco stuttered. "Perhaps I was mistaken." He leaned back in his seat in concert with Mara's leaning forward, her blazing eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Obviously Luke didn't take our advice at'all."
The Jedi slumped down even further, covered his face, and groaned.
Aerie turned to her husband. "Jaco Modesa, I want to know what ye're goin' on about. Is this so-called advice somethin' I should hear?"
"No!" Jaco and Luke both exclaimed simultaneously.
"Don't worry, Aerie. I'll wrangle it out of Luke tonight," Mara declared, shooting a confident glance Luke's way.
(Just drop it, Mara,) Luke pleaded silently.
(You know me better than that,... darling,) Mara replied in his mind, drawing out the last word teasingly.
"Be sure to let me know," Aerie said, laughing. "How did yer dress fittin' go this mornin', Mara?"
"That's right," Luke said, sitting up a little straighter and glad someone had the sense to change the subject. "You didn't tell me about that either."
"It went fine, Aerie," Mara replied. "I think the dress is going to look really nice. Filia's sister Lessie seems to be a fine seamstress. And you," she turned to Luke, "don't get to know anything about it."
A puzzled look crossed Luke's face. "Why not?"
"Men aren't allowed," Mara rejoined with a smirk, her satisfaction clearly showing at finding something that males couldn't participate in.
"But..."
"'Tis bad luck fer the groom to know anythin' 'bout the bride's dress," Aerie filled in.
Mara winked at Luke. (These bondings have more superstitions attached than you can shake a gaffi stick at.)
"Oh," Luke answered both the women at once. "So what am I supposed to wear tomorrow?" he asked, turning to Jaco for help. "Surely that's not a secret."
"I think they're figurin' on outfittin' ye in the suit I wore last year, at me and Aerie's bondin'," Jaco supplied.
"So..." Luke pondered thoughtfully. "I have to borrow clothes, but Mara gets something custom-made."
"That about sums it up," Mara gloated. "Poor baby," she added, eliciting a round of laughter from the table.
The two couples continued to enjoy each other's company. It was a rarity for Luke and Mara to relax with others their own age, sharing anecdotes and reminiscences, at least as much as they dared.
"Have ye been enjoyin' the Festival so far, Luke?" Aerie spoke up.
"Yes, very much so."
(Except for getting sick last night. You can't claim to have enjoyed that.)
Luke ignored Mara's silent interjection, and elaborated on his reply to Aerie. "Mara took me ice-gliding this evening, and that was quite an experience. I really liked it."
"Ye've never been before?"
Mara snorted before Luke could answer. "What do you expect from someone who grew up in a des—" She caught herself just in time. "...a desolate place like he did?"
Aerie looked at Mara curiously. "I didn't think you'd ever been glidin' before, either, Mara."
"Well, no," Mara backpedaled. "I guess you could say both our childhoods were rather bleak." She glanced around the room before Aerie could ask any more questions. "Say, what's going on over there?"
They all turned toward a far corner of the room, where a large crowd had gathered.
"Arm grapplin' match, from the looks of it," Jaco speculated. "They can get quite excitin'. Anybody up fer goin' to see who's winnin'?"
"What―?" Mara began, until Luke kicked her under the table.
(Just pretend you know what he's talking about,) he admonished silently. "Sure, let's go watch," he said to Jaco.
The quartet made their way across the room, squeezing in among the spectators for an observation spot of their own. They watched as two men sat down opposite each other at a small table, each resting one elbow on the table's surface and clasping hands tightly. At a signal from Efam, who was apparently the moderator, the men began pushing against each other's hand, muscles bulging with strain. Mara gave Luke a comprehending glance, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. They recognized the competition as being similar to ones that pilots and other bar patrons occasionally engaged in.
The contestants struggled for several minutes, one pressing the other's hand toward the tabletop, only to have the direction reversed as the weaker opponent got a burst of adrenaline and, with a loud grunt, forced the back of his rival's hand against the surface with a hard thump. Cheers echoed from bystanders evidently backing the winner, and Efam began doling out appropriate payoffs.
(Is this all these people do?) Mara sent silently. (Engage in mindless contests, and gamble?)
Luke winked in reply. (Only the men.)
Mara, Luke, and the Modesas continued watching several more rounds, with some lasting mere seconds, while other engagements seemed to go on forever.
"Who are those two fellows over there?" Luke asked Jaco, nodding toward a pair of burly men who were taking more than a casual interest in the current match. "I don't remember seeing them before." He frowned as the taller of the two, a rugged-looking man with an unkempt mustache, shot a lecherous glance Mara's direction.
"Those be the Pruden brothers, Eli and Odus," Jaco returned in a hushed voice. "And that's their cousin grapplin' now, the one with the beard. They're a rough bunch, they are. Live out in the wilderness, and only come into town a few times a year."
Luke moved slightly closer to his fiancée as he discerned the mustached brother again looking her way. He nearly missed Jaco's unexpected invitation.
"Would ye like to give it a try, Luke?"
"What?"
"They're calling fer new competitors. Would ye like—?"
"No," Luke cut him off. "I really don't think so."
"Yes, he would," Mara contradicted.
Astonishment plain on his face, Luke turned to the woman standing beside him. "You want me to participate in this... grappling?"
Mara shrugged nonchalantly. "Why not? Looks like fun. You're strong." She made a pretext of checking out the competition. "I'll bet you could beat anyone in here."
Jaco suddenly began to fidget and glanced aside at his wife.
"Ye can't be bettin', Mara," Aerie whispered. "Women ain't allowed..."
Oh, no, Luke thought, and he saw that Jaco shared his concern. Not again.
(Don't get all worried, farmboy,) the redhead sent. (I won't embarrass you by 'making a scene' this time.)
"It was a figure of speech," Mara assured her friend. "Seriously, Luke, I'd like to see how you measure up."
"You're joking," Luke blurted aloud before he could stop himself. (Mara, I don't think all this barroom competing is something a Jedi should be doing.)
(Didn't stop you last night.)
(That was different. That was skill, not just... brute strength.)
(I fail to see any difference,) Mara retorted. (Besides, we have the rest of our lives to be strait-laced Jedi. This is our vacation away from all that prim and proper comportment.)
Luke's mouth gaped slightly at her use of the words 'we' and 'Jedi' in the same sentence, reminding him that the Lorrdians were expecting Mara Jade to be a Jedi apprentice. Was the Force helping him out here? Had Mara subconsciously been rethinking her vow to never become a Jedi?
(They won't let me compete,) Mara was continuing silently, as she glanced around the room once more, (even though I'm sure I could take most of this crowd. So you,) she gave him a little shove toward the gaming table, (have to be my proxy.)
"You're not joking," Luke surmised vocally, noticing that his and Mara's overlong silent conversation had drawn a few curious stares.
"Of course not," she acknowledged. "Jaco, do you ever participate in grappling?"
"Well, I haven't in a good while," the dark-haired young man hedged.
"Ye invited Luke to have a go," Aerie pointed out to her husband. "It wouldna' be polite fer ye not to join in yerself."
Jaco reluctantly agreed, and as luck would have it, he and Luke found themselves paired up in the next match.
"Right or left?" Efam asked Luke, as the Jedi slowly seated himself across from his friend.
"Excuse me?"
"Do ye want to use yer right or left hand?" the pub owner repeated. "Since yer the newcomer, ye get to decide."
"Oh, uh, left," Luke murmured. He copied the actions of Jaco, who was rolling up his own left sleeve.
"Stang, I didn't think about..." Mara muttered to herself, suddenly realizing that, even without the Force, Luke's prosthetic right hand could easily give him an advantage. Not to mention the possibility that someone might notice the minute seam where it attached to his wrist.
"This is lucky," Aerie was saying next to her, jolting Mara from her thoughts. "Jaco is left-handed, too."
With one last 'why are you making me do this' frown at Mara, Luke gripped his friend's hand, and held steady against Jaco's energetic push.
(I expect you to do your best,) Mara ordered silently. (No just letting him win.)
Luke spared her a vexed look, but didn't reply.
The contest was short-lived, with Luke effortlessly pressing Jaco's hand completely down within moments.
"Sorry about that," Luke apologized to his comrade, who unexpectedly laughed in return.
"Don't be sorry, chum. With yer strength, I can't believe I lasted as long as I did."
Luke nodded, but when he started to rise, Efam's large hand on his shoulder held him in place.
"Where do ye think yer goin'? There already be challengers lined up clear back to the bar." The pub owner grinned broadly. "We all know Jaco's no pushover. I 'spect I won't be able to keep up with all the bettin' that'll be commencin'. Now, as defendin' winner, it's yer pick. Did ye want to stay with yer left?"
"Yes," Luke murmured, already regretting his letting Mara talk him into this. The emanation of displeasure he sent her way was heightened when he saw a certain Pruden brother now practically rubbing shoulders with his wife-to-be. He watched as Mara picked up on his sense and then turned to spear her stalker with a haughty glare.
Somewhat mollified, Luke turned his attention back to systematically dispatching all his competitors, young or old, wiry or stout. The shorter Pruden brother, Eli, proved to be a more capable adversary than his predecessors, but even he was soon felled by the Jedi's sinewy muscles.
"Have ye worked up a thirst yet?" Filia came forward with a mug of ale for Luke.
"No thanks." He quickly turned down the offer. He wasn't about to start down that path again. Filia had barely walked away when Luke's attention was snagged by a jolt of exasperation lurching out of Mara. Odus Pruden was attempting to engage Mara in an anything-but-meaningful conversation, and the former assassin glowered with repulsion as she brushed him off. Luke rose from his chair, his face a mask of stone, but he did not approach them. Mara's admonition outside the Ranat Roost on Coruscant, scarcely more than a week ago, surfaced in his mind, and Luke tempered his apprehensive concern. Mara would surely take umbrage if he jumped to her defense. She didn't need his help; she didn't want his help. Luke wasn't going to risk losing his bride by losing his temper.
Murmurs ran through the gathering as Odus stalked away from Mara's rebuff and toward the grappling table. Luke stood motionless, waiting, his hands seizing the corners of the table in a vice-like hold.
"Yer woman was downright rude to me," the craggy-faced man sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "I'd a thought a tough man like ye would teach her better manners. But maybe it's cause yer no more than a boy."
"Leave her alone." Luke's voice was even and controlled, but his grip on the table tightened.
"I will," Odus vowed insolently, "if ye kin beat me." He yanked out the empty chair and sat down heavily. "Course, forcin' ev'rybody to fight left-handed weighs in yer favor, don't it, boy?"
The sound of a loud crack suddenly echoed through the pub, followed by spectators' gasps as a broken chunk of wood skittered across the tabletop out of Luke's right hand. "I'm right-handed, actually." He made the statement as a simple fact, but the underlying intimidation was there. "Your choice."
"Luke..." Mara started forward, but halted as Luke's silent voice reached her.
(You started this, Mara. I'm finishing it.)
Mara looked into his eyes, his soul. He was calm, resolute, and in complete control. Not a trace of the dark side tainted his aura. She nodded to him and stepped back. Luke settled into his chair, Pruden's long legs grazing his own under the tiny table.
"Left, then," Odus snarled, lifting his brawny forearm into position, and no doubt thinking Luke's left arm was bound to be tired by now.
Luke was equally relieved by the choice. Better not to have the temptation of crushing the boor's hand.
Wiping the sweat accumulated from past opponents onto his pants, Luke seized the grimy hand of his crass antagonist, whose outstretched reach was considerably longer than his own. The muscular Pruden strained against the slender Jedi. Luke kept his eyes focused on his foe, gauging his strength, watching for deception. If Odus was unnerved by Luke's stare, he gave no indication.
"Bear down, Luke." "Put yer weight into it." "Show 'im what ye're made of." The hazy voices filtered in through Luke's outer layer of perception as he concentrated on his strategy. That Odus Pruden was physically more powerful than Luke could not be denied. Especially a Luke that was determinedly not using his immeasurable Force strength.
Luke felt the treacherous intent a split second before Pruden struck ― the larger man's balled right fist swinging under the table toward Luke's adjacent knee. The Jedi's reflexes easily allowed him to move his leg in time, and the man howled as his fist hit the edge of Luke's chair.
Though Pruden's plan to distract the blond newcomer backfired miserably, Luke declined to take advantage of his opponent's momentary pain. Instead, the Jedi patiently maintained their arms' upright position, then hung on tenaciously as Pruden's renewed wrath threatened to overpower him.
The intense struggle was wearing on the younger man, however, and Luke finally decided enough was enough. Summoning the largest burst of strength he could muster, he gritted his teeth and forced Pruden's hand down to the damaged tabletop.
A scattering of cheers rose from the crowd, but they soon evaporated as more and more of the villagers saw the irate look on Pruden's face.
"What's his problem?" Mara muttered to Aerie and Jaco. "He lost; he should get over it."
"Odus Pruden's never been beat," Jaco whispered back. "And he don't take kindly to anyone spurnin' his advances, neither" he added, giving Mara a knowing look.
"And... Luke and I have managed to offend him on both counts." She nodded matter-of-factly.
Odus was livid. He boldly reached out and grabbed the front of Luke's shirt, jerking the younger man to his feet. The Jedi neither absorbed nor repelled Pruden's anger; rather, he dissolved it as it endeavored to envelop him.
Luke's calm demeanor served only to further infuriate the wilderness man.
"Ye cheated!" Pruden screamed. "Ye musta cheated! A scrawny whelp like yerself couldna' beat me." He yanked Luke closer, his fetid breath invading the younger man's senses.
But Luke, his arms dangling at his sides, merely stared the man down. Murmurs began rising from the bystanders, testifying to the atmosphere of disbelief that Luke could remain so passive.
"I've no quarrel with you," Luke stated quietly, "if you'll just leave us alone."
"What's the matter, boy, scared to fight with yer fists?" Odus taunted.
"He's not afraid of you or anyone else."
Odus glanced over his shoulder at the source of the low, feminine voice. Mara's entire posture radiated a confident readiness.
Eli Pruden moved to stand at one side of his brother, while their whiskered cousin Tors flanked the other. Efam, Hiley, and several others shifted closer to Luke in the tense standoff; the pub owner gripped a short, thick club in one stout fist.
Odus eyed the obvious backing that the newcomers commanded, and released his hold of Luke's tunic, giving him a shove in the process.
"Ahh, ye're not worth the effort." As he retreated away from the table, however, Odus Pruden made a rash and foolish error in judgment.
"Now, yer woman, on the other hand..." the backwoodsman began, as he grabbed Mara and kissed her. Or rather, attempted to kiss her.
Mara's lightening fast reflexes hadn't dulled in the least since her tenure as the Emperor's Hand. She caught Odus in the hollow of his throat with a durasteel jab, then pivoted on one foot to kick his approaching brother in the ribcage. Patrons in two different directions scurried to get out of the way as the Pruden brothers were propelled their way.
Luke joined Jaco in grasping the upper arms of Tors Pruden, preventing him from entering the fray, but the Jedi made no other attempt to come to Mara's aid.
"Ain't ye gonna defend her?" Jaco whispered, his incredulous expression matching that of most of the other bystanders.
"She doesn't need my help," Luke returned quietly, his eyes never leaving his fiancée.
After gauging that her latter victim wouldn't be getting up anytime soon, Mara whirled around, feet apart in combat stance, and stared down into the fuming visage of Odus Pruden.
With one hairy hand still clutched around his throbbing throat, Odus lay sprawled against an overturned table. He gagged reflexively, laboring to catch his breath, and soon succumbed to a fit of coughing. The nervous crowd gave him a wide berth as he struggled to his feet, his fierce glower locked on Mara's resolute features.
Stalking slowly forward, the woodsman paused, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he glared sideways at Luke. "Ye let... yer woman... do yer fightin'?" he sneered hoarsely.
Mara took a step forward before Luke could reply. "Luke and I are a team," she grated out. "You're not dealing with the patient half of that team anymore."
Efam stepped between the aggressors before retaliation could be exacted by either side. "I want all ye Prudens out o' here, now," he ordered, rapping the cudgel in his open palm. "There'll be no more fightin' here tonight."
Tors shrugged out of Luke and Jaco's hold and helped up his cousin Eli, who was gingerly rubbing his painfully bruised ribs. Odus's lip curled in distaste as he passed Luke and Mara.
"Ye're possessed, the both of ye," he snarled, giving the couple one last vicious glare before following his brother and cousin out into the night.
Luke compressed his lips at the suspicious glances various customers were giving him and Mara. It seemed several of the others shared Odus Pruden's assessment of them, including their newfound friends.
"Mara," Aerie breathed in amazement as she sidled her way back from the distant corner of the room that Jaco had sent her to. "I've never seen anythin' like that. How did ye ever—?"
"It was nothing, Aerie," the redhead cut her off. "I just... I used to have to defend myself against my... uh,... brothers, and cousins, growing up."
"Like that?" The blonde gave her a dubious frown. "And I thought ye told me ye didn't have any brothers or sisters."
Stang, Mara thought. This whole mess keeps getting more and more complicated. "They... uh... have all moved away. I meant... I don't have any brothers still living at home."
Aerie nodded, but didn't ask any more questions.
Luke was fending off similar scrutinies of his reticence to explain both Mara's prowess and his own lack of action. Taking Mara's hand, he sent a silent (I think we need to leave.)
(I think you're right,) she returned. Even the former assassin was finding herself disquieted by the chill in the air. Bidding their friends a quick goodnight, the pair retrieved their coats and slipped out as quickly and as unobtrusively as they could.
―――――
Luke curled one arm around Mara's shoulders, and she slipped a hand inside his warm coat pocket, as the pair made their way down the nearly deserted street, snow crunching beneath their boots. Late-night revelers could be heard in the distance, but no one approached to disturb their solitude. Both cast careful glances and Force tendrils into the shadows of each building they passed, watching for any sign of revenge-seeking Prudens.
"Think they gave up and actually left town?" Mara wondered aloud.
"I wouldn't count on it," Luke replied. "Though I don't sense them nearby. Not that I'm worried," he continued, giving Mara a playful squeeze, "since I have my bodyguard right here."
"I'm sorry about that, Luke. I reacted in exactly the same manner that I chastised you about at the Ranat Roost."
"No, you didn't," Luke disagreed quietly. "There wasn't a hint of the dark side in you."
"You either, tonight," Mara acknowledged. "Not a whisper. You stayed so calm, while I lashed out without thinking. I didn't even give you the chance to settle things peaceably."
"Hmmm..." Luke sighed. "I don't think breaking off the edge of a tabletop represents serene composure or good common sense."
"That aside, you still have everyone thinking you're a coward for not jumping to my defense."
"I'm not here to impress anyone."
The couple paused as a wagon creaked by in front of them, pulled by a pair of shaggy quadruped farm animals they remembered were called drobbins. The bundled-up family swaying on the wagon's seats gave Luke and Mara a silent wave in greeting as they rolled on, the drobbins' hooves clomping across the snow-covered cobblestones.
"I know you're not, Luke." Mara picked the conversation back up. "It's just... I don't know..." She sighed heavily, her breath crystallizing in the frigid night air. "It bothered me, those looks people were giving you. You're the bravest man I know, and..."
Luke interrupted her with a hearty laugh. "First you don't want me to fight for your honor, now you do. Am I supposed to be able to figure this out?"
Mara joined him in chuckling. "Pruden was wrong about you," she said with a snicker, pulling him to a halt and wrapping her hands behind his neck. "You are worth the effort."
"I tell you, that line sure brought back memories." Luke grinned in the moonlight, tugging her along to resume their trek. "There must be something about me and bar brawls."
"I'm sure you have some retrospective tale that you're about to recount in vivid detail," Mara replied, smirking.
"If you don't want to hear it, just say so." He snorted in mock indignation.
"I wouldn't think of stifling your confessions of your deep, dark past," she joked. Not that she was ready to admit it aloud, but Mara enjoyed Luke's stories of his youth and his adventures in the Rebel Alliance. "Start talking, Skywalker."
"If you insist." He smiled, thinking back to his first experience in a seedy cantina. "It was in Mos Eisley, where I first met Han and Chewie..." Luke paused, memories of that fateful day flooding through him. Mara felt his heart tighten with a mixture of homesickness, dejection, and awestruck wonderment. "Ben and I... Ben Kenobi, that is..."
Mara gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. "I know. Go on."
He nodded in appreciation of her understanding. "We went to Chalmun's Cantina, looking for a pilot to take us to Alderaan. I'd been to Mos Eisley once before, with Uncle Owen, but never to a real cantina. It was nothing like the tapcafs in Anchorhead. So I boldly went up to the bar and ordered a drink, while Ben was questioning spacers for an available pilot. And these two... uh, gentlemen,... a human and an Aqualish, began picking on me. I mean, just because I looked like a greenhorn farmboy..."
"Just because you were a greenhorn farmboy," Mara interjected with a smirk, wondering how much Luke was embellishing this tale to impress her.
"Yeah, I guess. So Ben came up and tried to get them to lay off me. 'This little one's not worth the effort' he told them." He turned to Mara with a sheepish grin. "If one more person describes me that way, I may get a complex."
"Oh, sure," she rejoined, laughing. "Go on with your story. What happened then?"
Luke smiled to himself at her poorly concealed eagerness to hear the rest of his tale. "One of them pushed me down into some tables, and then started to draw his blaster. And then, what occurred next I consider one of the defining moments on my path to Jedi Knighthood."
He paused dramatically, relishing Mara's look of expectation.
"Faster than I could blink, Ben whipped out his lightsaber, and the Aqualish's arm was laying on the floor, his lifeless hand still gripping his blaster. And I just sat next to an overturned chair, with my mouth gaping open, fingering my father's lightsaber hanging from my own belt. Up until then, I'd only heard wild gossip about what Jedi could do, and Ben hadn't given me any specifics yet. At that moment, though, it suddenly dawned on me what I'd be trained to do, what I was expected to be capable of doing. I was giddy with anticipation, and scared to death."
"I think you've proven yourself more than capable," Mara imparted a sincere compliment, a not-so-rare occurrence for her anymore. "I'd imagine, though, that brandishing a lightsaber on an Imperial-controlled world wouldn't be the smartest thing to do."
Luke shook his head. "Actually, no one else in the room seemed to notice, or even care. Maybe they were all too intoxicated, or high on spice, or just determined to mind their own business. Ben and I followed Chewie over to meet Han, then we slipped out when some stormtroopers showed up. Later, on the Falcon, Ben did take great pains to stress that using a saber should always be a last resort. Then, after Ben... died..., I wasn't sure I'd ever become skilled enough to depend on only my lightsaber, much less master it. I still think I have a lot to learn. And..." Luke paused as he pushed open the front door to the inn. "And... I'm probably boring the life out of you."
"No, Luke, not at all." Mara reached for one of the candlesticks that Merta kept in the entryway. "I find your stories fascinating."
Luke lit the candle, its flame casting flickering shadows as they started up the dark stairway. "You grew up amidst the glamour and excitement of Imperial Court. How can my monotonous little yarns be in any way interesting to you?"
"You had the opportunity to discover new things, to make your own decisions, right or wrong, all by yourself."
"Not when my uncle was around," Luke scoffed.
"Even then, you could have left. You stayed there because of your sense of responsibility, not because he forced you. He wouldn't have hunted you down if you'd left." Mara raised one hand and stroked Luke's face as they reaching the landing in front of their room. "You had free will, Luke. I find myself envious of the journey of discovery your life has been."
Luke curled a hand behind Mara's head, threading his fingers through her silky hair. "Mara, on the night I proposed, I told you our physical joining would be just such a journey. I'm amending that. Our entire life together will be a journey of discovering untrodden paths, meeting new challenges, taking risks, and exploring possibilities."
"And we'll overcome any obstacles that stand in our way," Mara continued his avowal, "because we'll meet them head on, together."
"Together," Luke whispered, bending to kiss her gently. "And not just obstacles," he pointed out. "I plan on experiencing countless days of new joys and... pleasures... together with you." He gave her a roguish grin and a sly wink as he backed her into their cozy room.
"Whatever happened to the shy, innocent Jedi I agreed to marry?"
"He's battling with the crazy-in-love, burning-for-you pilot." Luke pulled her into a ravenous kiss, clutching her so tightly she could barely breathe. (He's battling hard.)
"So you're a great warrior," Mara panted between frantic breaths, "in everything you do."
"I..." Luke gulped, shaking his head and exhaling raggedly as he loosened his grip. "Don't... don't ever call me a great warrior."
Mara frowned in confusion at his odd reaction to her words, studying his taut face as he leaned back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. What old memory had she stirred up this time?
She ran one hand lightly down his rising and falling chest as they both struggled to calm the raging inferno of desire in their hearts down to a smoldering glow.
"I think I'll get ready for bed," Mara murmured, forcing herself to back away. She gave Luke a wistful smile as he pried open one eye. "The sooner we go to sleep, the sooner tomorrow will be here."
"That twisted Jedi logic is rubbing off on you," he muttered, holding out his hand as her fingertips slipped out of his grasp.
Mara gathered up her sleeping gown and gave Luke one last lingering look as she headed for the refresher. He was still rooted to the same spot, eyes closed once more, and she swore his lips were silently mouthing the words "one more night..., one more night..." Or perhaps it was those same words reverberating in her own head.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Mara drifted awake restlessly. When she had climbed into bed hours earlier, Luke assured her that he would soon join her; he just wanted to meditate awhile first. Even before she stuck one arm out, though, she could sense the empty spot beside her. With both the moonlight streaming into the room and the soft glow of the hearth's dying embers, she had no trouble picking out his silhouette. He was kneeling at the window, arms crossed on the wide sill, forehead pressed against the cold pane of glass.
"Luke?" Mara raised herself up on one elbow. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"Luke..."
After a moment's hesitation, a slightly longer mumbled reply came back to her.
"Thinking. Trying to cool off."
Mara could feel Luke tense as she slipped out of bed and crossed the small space between them. She knelt next to the window, leaning against the cool outer wall. Her appreciative eyes roved up and down his strong physique, covered only by the thin sleep pants. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his shoulder, jerking back as her fingertips brushed his burning skin.
(Please, Mara.) Luke's tone begged as he dropped his head down on his arms. (You're not making this any easier.)
"Sorry," she murmured, struggling to quench the flirtatious impulses that were racing through her, especially as she knew he could sense them all too well. They'd been through these trials too many times already, especially the previous afternoon; he didn't need any more tempting lures from her to have to resist.
"Go on back to bed, Mara. I'll join you shortly."
"Why do I not believe you?" She peered closer at his weary face. "Have you gotten any sleep at all tonight?"
He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I just have a lot on my mind."
"Such as?" Mara was not letting him off that easy.
Luke blew out a sigh of frustration. "Just things, Mara." Her restrained silence was enough to coerce him into continuing. "Repairing the ship, getting off this planet, the mission we're supposed to be carrying out..."
"I noticed you didn't include tomorrow in your litany of worries."
"I'm not worried about tomorrow." He finally let a wry little grin escape in her direction.
"Feeling pretty confidant of your love-making expertise, are you?" she teased, glad to see him shaking off his doldrums.
Luke flashed her an unexpected smile. "I'll have you know you're marrying a graduate of the 'Biggs Darklighter Training Course on How to Satisfy a Female.' Of course, you'll be my first endeavor at putting anything past chapter one into practice."
Mara couldn't help herself; she burst into laughter. "Thank the Force. I was afraid you were going say that Solo and Calrissian taught you everything you know."
"Han's tried, believe me. And I generally tune out any advice from Lando." Luke smiled wistfully at his bride-to-be. "No, I'm not concerned about tomorrow ― the ceremony or the wedding night. We'll muddle our way through."
"But something is troubling you," Mara insisted. "Do you think the improvised stabilizer rod won't fit?"
"I'll make it fit," he returned, daring her to comment on his repair skills.
"So...?" She was sure he was keeping something from her.
"I just... I think we need to get to Lorrd as soon as possible. I have a feeling there's more to the situation than negotiating a simple trade agreement."
"Proddings from the Force?"
"Maybe," he murmured, turning once more to stare out into the snowy night.
Mara stood and tugged on his arm, resolutely ignoring the warmth that even that much contact spread through her. "You are going to crawl right into that bed and get some sleep." She interrupted his coming objection. "The next few days are going to require you to be well rested."
"But, Mara..."
She crossed her arms defiantly as she watched him slowly comply. A resigned expression filled his face as he lay down on his stomach, tucking his arms beneath the soft feather pillow. Mara perched on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers up to his waist.
"Now put yourself in a sleeping trance," she directed, reaching one hand out and rubbing his shoulders lightly. His sinewy muscles felt like coiled durasteel cables. "If you remember, I once offered to massage the tenseness out of you."
As she began kneading the tightness in his back, Luke turned his head to the side and opened one eye. "This is supposed to make me fall asleep?"
"You, Jedi, are supposed to be going into a trance. You're the one that said we were going to wallow in misery tonight," she reminded him.
"I don't feel miserable," he muttered, closing his eyes once more. "Do I get to reciprocate some day?"
Mara smiled to herself, remembering the feeling as he cleaned her feet just after they exited the palace sewers. "Only if you start with my feet."
"And work my way up?" He glanced back at her.
She pushed his head back down onto the pillow. "Trance," she ordered, her fingers resuming their path down to his waist.
Luke let himself be engulfed by the comforting presence of both his fiancée and the Force. (I love you,) he sent, before slipping into a deep slumber.
Mara leaned forward and kissed his shoulder gently. (And I love you.)
―――――
Mara padded silently down the narrow stairway, her steps and her heart as light as the snowflakes falling outside. Up until nearly three months ago, the idea of her ever getting married had never entered her mind. To be more precise, she had very few ideas that had not originated from her master.
But the Emperor had made a critical error, an error that ultimately had costlier consequences to his Empire than overlooking an unprotected exhaust port on a battle station of death. He had underestimated the human spirit, and the power of love ― the spirit ignited by a spark between a Jedi and a servant, and the love between that Jedi and his father.
Luke may never fully realize the influence he exerts, Mara reflected, just by being himself. His warm-hearted, self-effacing, chivalrous self.
―――
Mara entered the darkened kitchen and lit a single candle. She had spent sufficient time in this room the previous day to easily find her way around in the semi-darkness. Soon a kettle of water sat heating over a small fire in the soot-blackened wood stove. There was an overwhelming sense of peace in the cozy room, a peace that was momentarily pierced by the shrill whistle of the kettle. Mara let the tea leaves steep a few minutes, then gratefully sipped the soothing local blend.
"I thought I heard me kettle singin'." Merta shuffled sleepily through the doorway, a well-worn knitted wrap pulled about her shoulders, covering an equally worn nightgown. Her gray hair hung loose down her back, its pattern of ripples indicative of the plaited bun in which it was usually wound.
"Merta, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb anyone," Mara apologized. "I helped myself to some tea; I hope you don't mind."
"Not if ye pour me a cup, too." The elder woman pulled out a second straight-backed chair at the small table tucked in a corner. "Ye havin' trouble sleepin'?" She smiled in perceived understanding at the young barefoot woman.
"Not me."
Mara's flippant response, however, caused Merta's brow to crinkle in surprise. "Luke? Pre-weddin' jitters, has he?"
Mara shrugged. She could hardly reveal the real reasons for Luke's insomnia.
"Lass, every man has 'em. Menfolk want to appear strong and sure of themselves, but truth be told, they worry more than we do. They fret about supportin' a wife and children, puttin' food on the table, and clothes on their backs. Land's sake, they even worry if they'll satisfy their new bride on their weddin' night."
Mara laughed lightly. "Oh, Luke's not worried about that."
"Is that so? I was under the impression ye two had yet to test those waters."
"Excuse me?" These people sure don't have any hang-ups of what they'll talk about, Mara thought. Must be what happens when a society is never exposed to the social taboos of the rest of the galaxy.
"Ye haven't had relations with each other yet," Merta elaborated. "Which I was a might surprised to hear, with ye sleepin' together and all."
"Where..." Mara narrowed her eyes, more in curiosity than in any resentment of Merta's apparent knowledge. "Where did you hear that?"
"Why, 'cording to Filia, Luke told the menfolk last night."
"What!"
"Are ye sayin' it ain't so?"
"I... I..." Mara's attention abruptly fixated on her cup of tea, and she felt a sudden need to temper the bitterness that the dark liquid left on her palate.
Merta chuckled warmly. "I'd say it is so, judgin' by how many spoons of honey ye be addin' to that tea."
Mara froze, her spoon hanging in suspension above the nearly overflowing cup. "I didn't think Luke would discuss our personal business," she said in a small voice, more to herself than to her late-night companion. A distant memory jolted through her, of Luke vocalizing a similar grievance over Mara's distorted exaggerations to Leia aboard the Falcon.
"Ahh, don't be hard on him, lass. The way Efam described it to Filia, the men more or less guessed by Luke's reluctance to talk about how much pleasurin' ye two been engagin' in."
Mara looked up quickly in relief, then silently returned her gaze to her cup. She brought the brew to her lips, making a face at its syrupy sweetness. No, Luke would not reveal what went on, or didn't go on, between them. At least, she didn't think he would, even after consuming who knows how many mugs of ale. She wondered briefly if this had anything to do with the men's 'advice' to Luke, about which she had uncharacteristically forgotten to interrogate him.
"Mara, child, I may be just an old woman who takes to meddlin' too much, but, well..."
Mara glanced up again, waiting for Merta to continue.
"Yer own mum has told ye what to expect on yer weddin' night, hasn't she? I'm figurin' yer and Luke's decision to bond came as kind of a spur of the moment thing." She studied the betrothed girl's obviously forced expression of neutrality, then plunged ahead. "Or have ye already been with another man?"
Merta's last question widened Mara's eyes abruptly. An indignant retort died on the younger woman's lips as realization dawned that the motherly figure before her was only asking out of concern.
"No," came Mara's quiet reply.
Merta frowned a bit. "No, yer mum hasn't already discussed this with ye, or no, ye haven't had a roll with a man yet?"
"No to both of those." Mara felt a hint of embarrassment at the curt replies she'd been issuing. "I don't remember my mother. She died, I think, when I was very young."
"I'm sorry to hear that, lass," Merta said, and Mara could discern the woman's heartfelt sympathy. "Would ye like to talk with me, then?" the innkeeper continued, after only a moment's hesitation. "It's been a good sum of years since me own daughter was anticipatin' her new husband, but I figure ye may be harborin' a few of the same anxieties that she had."
Mara paused in her nervous fingering of her teacup. She certainly didn't consider herself naïve or uninformed. On more than one occasion as an adolescent she'd eavesdropped on the court dancers and concubines discussing their latest liaisons. And, of course, her extensive education had included a prosaic, scholarly discourse of reproduction. But Merta was offering a conversation that Mara was sure would be neither boring nor exaggerated ― the kind of explanations that a mother would offer a daughter.
"Yes," Mara answered quietly. "I think I would like to talk."
―――
When Mara slipped back into bed more than an hour later, she was careful not to wake up her sleeping husband-to-be. Luke had reiterated over and over that people would be kind and gracious to her if she would only give them a chance. Tonight she had had that lesson exemplified in a warm and loving manner by a woman she would have been proud to call Mother. How different her life could have been under the guidance of such a caring person. Dare she hope to be half that effective in counseling any children she may have?
Luke twitched in his sleep, and Mara smiled to herself in the darkness. Their children would have the best father imaginable, and a mother who learned how to love from that very same man. They would grow up in an environment as far removed from the cold, sterile life she had experienced as she could possibly make it, she vowed silently. She would give up her own life before allowing any child of theirs to know evil and darkness. And so would Luke.
