Lying on the floor of the tibanna processing center on the cloudy planet of Bespin, lethally wounded with a few stabs courtesy of her own, old lightsaber, she takes a long, good look at her son. She wonders why he looks so happy now. Did he know he just killed his own mother?

Maybe he really hated her, like his twins are? Leia's hate is justified, kind of. She is technically responsible for Leia's adoptive parent's death and Alderaan's destruction. Technically, because it's Tarkin who holds the most power for the Death Star, not her. She's just there to intimidate some unruly individuals within the Death Star.

She smiled. Her eyes flickered between the sickly yellow and azure blue. Hmph, if he rejected her as his mother just like the Alderaan's princess, he was really just a Skywalker in blood only. Not in legacy.

"So, you really hate me that much, despite knowing who I truly am?"

Sensing his anger is now coupled with confusion because of her statement, she finally understood. It seems like Kenobi never told Luke about who his mother really is. Kenobi probably even didn't tell him about his sister!

Though from what info she did gleamed from Owen's mind, her step-brother, Kenobi never been around Luke that much. Only occasionally, and usually when Luke got himself into trouble. Although...

"You're not true Skywalker, and you would never be." She said between the labored breathing. Despite having been raised by one of those with an "important" surname, it seems Luke is unaware of Skywalker's name's importance in Tatooine's culture. She knows that Beru is well aware of what her surname's legacy was and is very fluent in Amatakka. So, why Luke didn't understand it? Not even the simplest of sentences?

It's a shame she didn't mind probing her sister-in-law's mind thoroughly before letting them go.

Oh well. She can already tell Luke is, no, will definitely be manipulated by ol' Palps, sooner or later. Especially when both Yoda and Kenobi still omitted such important details from their student as they did before the Republic's fall.

But the fate of the galaxy is no longer a concern of hers, as she can feel the welcoming embrace of the Force enveloping her. Her eyes closed, after taking the last look at her killer's face. And then...

Darkness.

...

...

...

..

.

"O Brave Cardinal Heroes, please save our world from impending evil!"

Darth Vader, otherwise known as Anika Skywalker, the (sometimes)luckiest pilot in the Galaxy, is dead, by the hand of her own son...

or she is supposed to. When she opened her eyes, hoping to see her mother, her slave friends, Qui-Gon, and her kinda-father, Plaguies, she was instead met with the sight of a few oddly dressed groups of people in front of her. No matter how many times she blinked, thinking this was just an after-death dream, the scenery didn't change.

Next to her is three male teenagers, bereft of any visible technology and equipped with beautiful, yet archaic weapons she would usually see in the museum at Coruscant or some small tribes. They too, wear an article of clothing with the same aesthetic as one another, albeit with some variation. They probably came from the same planet, her mind uselessly concluded.

She then inspected herself. There's nothing changed with her body, outwardly at least. Inwardly, her heart, which got replaced with a machine, mimicking the function of one after that fateful battle with Obi-Wan at Mustafar, is now back. She can feel the scars that once littered her body are now gone, replaced with unblemished, flawless white skin she once possessed before being grilled like a slice of meat at Mustafar lava beach. Hmm...why did her right hand still remain prosthetic, however?

The musings on her prosthetic hand are halted when the Force on this planet makes itself known to her. She ignored the conversation around her, focusing instead on the Force. The Force in this place feels somewhat heavier, even so than Mortis. She began to tune and align herself with the Force on this planet, while her ear did catch a few information from the group of the supposed mages, based on their chatter and what the Force told her.

Apparently, she, alongside the three teenagers next to her, is summoned from another world, probably from multiple worlds, seeing all three of them have some sort of difference in their presence in the Force. Small difference, barely noticeable, but a difference nonetheless. If she is some third-rate Jedi or Sith, she wouldn't notice it. Fortunately, she is a first-rate Jedi/Sith.

...

...

...

Okay, she is lying, the Force is the one that tells her all four of them came from different worlds, one of the benefits of having eldritch horror/sentient cosmic field as one-half of your parentage. The Force, aka Dad, is also the one who tells her that she is now the Hero of the Sword. She frowned at the title, especially when that title was attached to her. She is not someone would call a hero. Little did she know...

(In her universe, many people, young and old, those from pre-Empire and those from Empire suddenly feel a feeling of disagreement coursing through their bodies...)

For her, many others are more fitting that description. Like her own Padawan/Apprentices, Galen and Ahsoka, those three Jedi that kept escaping her, Windu, and Yoda.

Probably the most fitting to be a hero is her Apprentice's clone. He somehow managed to defeat her and subsequently, captured her. An impressive feat, but ultimately useless as no one could ever contain a Skywalker, not truly, especially when her favorite bounty hunter, Boba Fett, and her Dad and the ghost of her kinda-father helped her escape the cell. She wonders what kind of face those Rebels are making when they realize she escaped their captivity with Boba's ship. Especially after so much boasting by the guards of her cell. Hah! Idiot, she is Skywalker! She isn't mean to be held!

Pushing the thoughts aside, she looked at the Legendary Sword, an archaic weapon, by her world's standard at least, in her prosthetic right hand. Placed itself there without her knowledge. Compared to what she has seen before, this sword is quite decorated, compared to what she has seen at least. Yellow dominated most of the sword, with some silver for the hilt. A large green gem is embedded at the hilt, which is heavily saturated with Force.

She also sensed within this sword, that it had its own soul, and alongside other nine like itself, scattered around the planet, with the four near this place also having its own spirit like this sword.

Speaking of sword, does she still have her lightsaber? The good news is she still has a lightsaber, safely tucked around her waist. The bad news? It's not her own lightsaber! Well, from a certain point of view, it's not hers. Oh well, it's best to make do with have she currently has. It's not that detrimental to her own survival.

And now the mages want four of them to meet with the King of this kingdom. She can freak out about the lightsaber later.

AN:

This fic will be very, very rarely updated.

Apparently, I'm also bad at math.