Author's Note: Next up is Rugby 7's (a story made up of 7 sections, each with 7 sentences). This one mostly centers around my OC Eleri Skywalker, middle child and younger daughter of Luke and Mara, who is about 15 years old here.

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The Great Temple Lightsaber Tournament

49 Years post-RotS (30.5 ABY)

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i.

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"Are you ready?"

Eleri breathes in and opens her eyes to see her master looking at her intently. "I'm ready," she replies, fingers brushing against the lightsaber at her hip.

"That you've made it this far is an impressive achievement. No matter what happens now, you should know that we're all so very proud of you."

She thinks of her family watching from the audience, and she offers her master a small smile. "I know, Aunt Leia; and don't worry – I've got this."

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ii.

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"Did I miss anything?"

Luke glances up at his brother-in-law, who is holding two containers of buttered puff-seeds in his hands as he negotiates the crowd of spectators. "No, you're right on time, she's up next."

Han plops down into the chair next to him and hands him one of the buttery snacks. "This Bron kid's been Temple champ three years running; you think Eleri's got a chance against him?"

Luke flashes a wry smile as he watches his daughter – the spitting image of Mara at that age – take the stage and bow to her opponent, a tall, gloomy-looking human boy who is notorious for never, ever smiling and for being absolutely unstoppable with a lightsaber. "I think she's about to give him the fight of his life."

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iii.

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Breathe.

You've done this a hundred times. This isn't any different from the rest.

Yeah, except this time your opponent is a kriffing prodigy, and you haven't been able to find one single flaw in his technique, and there's like a thousand people watching your every move, and your entire family is here—

"Padawan Skywalker and Padawan Bron, please take your positions."

Just breathe. You already said you've got this, and you do.

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iv.

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The combatants trace an assessing circle around each other, equally stone-faced and determined. In the Force, Mara can feel her daughter's vibrant light, a searing yet controlled flame not unlike the blade of a lightsaber. Ever since Eleri was small, people have remarked on the similarities between them: their intense focus, their keen instincts, their reserved manner, their tendency toward the sardonic… and yes, even the hair. And maybe it's because of those similarities that she recognizes in her daughter the driving need to prove to herself that she is more than a combination of traits or a mere reflection of those who have shaped her, that she is truly her own person.

Eleri might be every bit a Jade and a Skywalker, resilient and tenacious to a fault, but she's something else, something more that Mara still doesn't quite have words for. And it's that something more that practically sings in her daughter's presence as she lunges forward without activating her weapon – to the surprise of nearly everyone watching. In the middle of what is supposed to be a lightsaber duel, Eleri and her opponent trade blows without their weapons, twirling in and out of each other's space with speed and grace and quiet ferocity; and when Eleri finally ignites her saber millimeters from the champ's head to begin the duel in earnest, Mara suppresses a grin and thinks to herself, That's my girl.

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v.

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Nidia draws a sharp breath as her sister just barely avoids a thrust aimed right at her center. Eleri's performance throughout the tournament has been nothing short of incredible, especially for her age, but Korbin Bron is in a different league altogether. Nidia's not sure she's ever seen him lose.

"Is Eleri winning?" There isn't so much as a hint of worry in Ben's voice, just the excited reverence of a little boy who still believes his big sisters can do anything. He doesn't look up at her; his eyes are locked on the match. Nidia grips her little brother's hand and squeezes, and he bounces up in his seat as Eleri sneaks past her opponent's defenses…

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vi.

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Eleri blinks up at the bright lights above, stunned, listening absently as the surprised hush of the crowd gives way to a slowly crescendoing applause. So close, she thinks as she lies there, playing the last few moves over in her mind, searching for where she went wrong.

A shadow passes across her vision, and she recognizes the silhouette of a person standing over her, and suddenly her moment of contemplation is over, and the rest of the world clamors against her senses. A hand reaches out to her, and she knows she needs to take it, needs to be gracious in defeat, needs to be seen being gracious in defeat.

She exhales slowly and blinks away the bright lights and the crowd's applause and the disappointment sitting uncomfortably in her chest, and she takes her opponent's hand and allows him to pull her to her feet.

"Thank you for the fight," he says in that gravelly, whisper-quiet voice of his, as imperturbable as ever. But when she releases his hand and looks up at him, she sees the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

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vii.

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At the center of the stage, Padawan Bron bows to Masters Drallig and Enwandung-Esterhazy and Katarn, accepting their congratulations and promising to always use his talents in accordance with the Jedi Code. All eyes are on the prodigiously talented apprentice – now Temple champion an unprecedented four times over – but Padmé finds her gaze drawn back to her granddaughter, standing off to the side of the stage after already receiving her congratulations from the masters.

Eleri has always been cool and reserved, hardly letting her true emotions show; but Padmé has known the girl practically since birth, and she recognizes the determined glint in her eyes. Far from being defeated, Eleri actually looks pleased.

As if sensing Padmé's eyes on her, Eleri glances in her direction, and one corner of her mouth quirks up. She shrugs her shoulders and gives her family a tiny wave.

Don't worry, those small gestures seem to say, I'll get him next time.

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