Breha never wanted to go to the Jedi Academy. She never wanted to leave home at all. She was only ten years old, after all; she shouldn't have to worry about packing up her whole life and moving away from everything she knew. At least, not without Mom. But that was the situation in which Breha Organa-Solo now found herself.

It wasn't fair. She'd only Force-pushed Poe Dameron on the playground; it was pure chance that he'd fallen badly and broken his wrist. The two had even made friends afterwards. But Mom and Dad were acting as if she'd grabbed Poe's hand and twisted it herself. If he didn't blame her, then why should they?

"Your uncle has been studying the Jedi arts since before you were born," Mom had said, matter-of-factly, as she folded a hideous set of beige robes into a suitcase. "The Academy is the safest place for you to learn, and Luke is the best person to teach you."

"You just want me out of the way in case I hurt someone else and make you look bad," she'd retorted. Mom had bitten her lip as if she wanted to cry, and Breha had almost felt guilty.

"You're going to the Academy, and that's final."

Breha had cried, and yelled, and begged, and bargained, but Mom would not be moved. She'd packed up Breha's things, and put them on the Millennium Falcon, and kissed her goodbye without so much as a tear. Breha tried to convince her father next – they could run away, just them and Chewie, and Breha never had to use her Force powers again if he didn't want her to. Dad gave her a little smile, but it very much was not the smile of someone considering an offer.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. But your mother's right." Chewie warbled in a sympathetic sort of way.

So, that was it.

Now Breha found herself in a strange little room, on a planet far from home, trying to resist the urge to cry. Each student at the Academy had their own modest little hut to sleep in, with wooden walls and domed ceilings. Breha hadn't been inside any others, but she imagined they looked about the same. There was just enough room for a bed, a small shelf, and a little heater. Her suitcase was under the bed, full of all the clothes and books Mom had packed. Mom had probably packed up all the stuff she had back home too. She could use Breha's room for whatever she wanted, now that Breha had pushed off out of it.

The thought of the empty bedroom, in the end, was the last straw. She brought her legs up to her chest, buried her face in her knees, and sobbed.

Presently, there came a knock at the door. As much as Breha hated the idea of anyone seeing her so upset, especially Uncle Luke, the promise of social contact was proving difficult to resist. She couldn't remember ever feeling so lonely before. Whoever was on the other side of the door knocked again, and this time, they spoke.

"Hello? Are you there?"

Well, that wasn't Uncle Luke's voice.

"Sorry, I'm coming." She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and sniffed as quietly as possible, and prayed to whatever gods there were that the strange kid wouldn't notice the puffy eyes or the redness in her cheeks. She took one more deep breath, and opened the door.

Well, Breha could honestly say she'd never met a creature quite like this before. They must have been close to two metres tall, with long, gangly limbs and broad shoulders, and almost all of their sizeable body was covered in fluffy white fur. They wore the same beige robes as all the other students, but theirs were sleeveless, and their feet were bare. Breha looked back up at their ruffed face just in time for them to speak.

"Hi."

Breha furrowed her brow. "Hi?"

"Hi," the kid said again. "You're new."

"I…yeah. I arrived this morning."

"Oh, I thought so. I haven't seen you before."

Judging by the kid's eyes, it didn't seem like they saw much in general – the right pupil hadn't stopped looking inward towards their nose – but then, maybe their eyes were meant to be like that. They held out an enormous fuzzy hand for her to shake. "I'm Seku, and this is the Jedi Academy. But you probably already knew that."

She took the kid's hand. The skin on their fingers was rough, and they had sharp, dark claws. "I'm Breha."

"Breha," they repeated. "I like that name. It's pretty."

Her insides squirmed uncomfortably, though she wasn't sure exactly why. "Uhh, thanks. You wanna come in?"

Seku ducked under the doorway, the peaks of her mop of white hair brushing the frame. They ran the fingers of one hand through the fur on the opposite forearm. "I hope I'm not bothering you or anything," they said, eventually. "I thought you might want some company on your first day. Besides, you were crying."

Breha felt the cold fingers of shame grip her stomach, and Seku's kind little smile only made her feel small and immature, however well-intentioned it was. "It's okay. I cried a lot on my first day," said Seku. "But part of that was because I ran into a wall."

Breha snorted, in spite of herself, and immediately felt bad for finding Seku's misfortune funny. She wanted to know about the wall incident, but thought it was something she'd rather not relive, if it had happened to her. And she really didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. "I'm sorry."

Seku, however, simply grinned at Breha, so widely her big, blue eyes almost squeezed shut. "It's okay. It was funny. I laughed too, once I got my breath back."

But Breha's fleeting mirth had evaporated, and she was left with the same hollow feeling in her stomach that she'd been wallowing in before Seku arrived. She shrugged, and perched back on the bed. It was so much smaller than her bed at home. "I'm just not good company right now," she said, lamely.

"It's okay." Seku plonked down on the floor beside her, even though there was room on the bed for her. Maybe she was wary of personal space. "I'm not very good at small talk."

"No, me neither." A lot of small talk became big talk when you were the daughter of Princess Leia Organa and General Han Solo. But then, that wasn't the problem. "I'm just sad."

Seku's pointed ears drooped. "I'm sorry."

"It's not you." Though Breha knew Seku was probably sympathising rather than apologising, she knew she'd like the reassurance if it was her. "It's just…Mom and Dad are back home, and I know I've got Uncle Luke but he's busy with everyone else. I haven't got any friends here…"

"I'll be your friend." The way she said it, it was as if it was the simplest thing in the universe; Breha was a little taken aback by how quickly she said it. "I mean, if you want. We don't have to be friends if you…"

"No, I'd like that. To be your friend, I mean."

Seku seemed to take a second to process the information, but she soon gave Breha another huge grin, this one showing a set of sharp, white teeth. "Great! We should shake on it! That's what you do when you make friends, right?"

It sounded oddly formal. Like it was a business transaction, rather than the beginning of a personal relationship, but Seku seemed genuine enough. She certainly didn't strike Breha as the manipulative sort. So Breha held out a hand. Seku seized it almost tight enough to hurt, but not quite.

"It's good to meet you, Breha," she said, shaking the hand so hard that the bones in Breha's arm almost rattled. That wasn't business-like, for sure.

"Yeah. It's nice to meet you too." And she smiled. She really, genuinely smiled. Maybe being a Jedi wouldn't be so bad after all.