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If Yes: Read Galactic Exodus Chronicles part 1 on fanfiction net.

Darth Revan & Bastila (accepting both sides of the Force)

I love this story

Fanfiction net. Dark Destyny

Revan was silent for a minute, then said, "You have been misled by your so-called teachers. Light Side, Dark Side, you see them only as good and evil. In truth, they are so much more."

"Oh? Then what are they?" Bastila asked incredulously.

Revan began to explain his philosophy. "The Light Side is the, shall we say, wider area of the Force. It consists of the, for lack of a better word, 'higher' emotions. Selflessness, self-sacrifice, compassion. All of them are very positive things. But the Light Side ignores the more human emotions. If you limit oneself to the Light Side, you lose touch with your natural emotions."

Bastia had to interrupt. "Even if I believe you, which I don't, isn't that a good thing? Human emotions, selfish emotions; they only bring down a Jedi in the end. That's why we keep them under control, so our judgement is not clouded."

Revan shook his head. "You misunderstand. Many more basic emotions are not selfish. Personal love and happiness are not, but they form part of the Dark Side. You have been raised, Bastila, to see the Light and Dark Sides to firmly represent good and evil, but you are wrong. Yes, anger and rage are part of the Dark Side, but so are love and passion. No, the Dark Side is not evil, it only comes from natural, human emotions."

Bastila considered his words. It was an interesting philosophy, but she knew Revan was either lying, or deluded.

"I am not deluded, Bastila. In fact, I will be your first Master who is not. The Jedi have it all wrong, Bastila. The danger is not using the Dark Side. No, the danger is becoming too limited on one side of the Force. Only focusing on the Dark Side can lead to your anger and greed consuming you. That is what happened to Malak."

For the first time, there was a hint of regret in Revan's voice. Did he feel remorseful for what had become of his friend? Maybe he...no, Sith felt no remorse. Whatever Revan said, they were evil, and Bastila knew that.

"On the other hand, becoming blind to all but the Light Side is also very dangerous. Over time, you lose touch with your humanity. In the end, you become nothing more than an emotionless puppet. Eventually, you stop truly caring about those you protect. You start to help others only out of a sense of duty, and deep down, you don't actually care anymore."

4 Star Wars fanfictions considered by me masterpieces about:

Vader & Exar Kun

Thrawn & Chimera Crew

Thrawn & Karyn Faro

Revan & Bastila

Do you have any favorite fanfictions about these characters?

Please let me know in the comments down below

I gotten really into Anakin again lately and want to write some fanfics. I’m getting back into wanting to write fanfic again, anyone have any plot ideas?????

Part 4: Not Alone

Part 1: Making Friends on Pabu

Part 2: The Warning

Part 3: Truth & Intimacy

Warnings: Fluffy AF, Light Romance, Violence

Word Count: 2324

Hi friends, thanks for reading. This little fan fiction has been my escape for a few minutes every day. It's not amazing and there's probably some plot holes I won't dig myself out of, but I'm having fun. Crosshair is such a brutally sweet character and I've loved trying to write him decently. There's some cameos and serious plot going on in this next chapter. Sorry if you were here for a one-shot. Maybe I'll try to write some of those after I conclude this story. Anyway, enjoy!

You awoke the next morning next to Crosshair in your ship’s narrow bunk. Rolling into him, you noticed he was already awake. 

“Have you been awake long?” you turned more fully towards him, concerned.

“I slept well enough,” he sighed. “Maybe better than I have in years.” He tightened his embrace around you. You relaxed into him once more and admired his breath on your skin.

“You know,” he started to open up, “I’ve spent too many nights alone in barracks, prison cells, and ship bunks. I woke up early, assuming I was alone again.” He hesitated, “But you were here… with me.”

He pressed a kiss into your shoulder. “This is the longest I’ve ever wanted to stay in bed,” he admitted.

You smiled and interrupted his embrace to turn to face him. You leaned your forehead against his and gazed into his intense brown eyes.

“Even if we could stay here forever—” you started, but Crosshair interjected, “It wouldn’t be long enough,” he sighed.

—

Feeling well-rested, you and Crosshair eventually made it out of bed and wandered into your ship’s kitchen. Feasting on what cereals and rations you had, you filled pockets and your bag with extras for the road. 

“I have a bunch of armor laying around in the back,” you said with a mouthful of cereal. “I figure we just see what fits and blend in with the crowds.”

“What is your plan to sell the piece off?” Crosshair interrogated a little. “I have some contacts that collect Jedi artifacts. I’m hoping they’ll be interested,” you sighed. “You’re hoping?” Crosshair grumbled. “I don’t have a plan. But this is all I can do right now,” you worried. 

“You are — ,” Crosshair started.

“Reckless. I know,” you admitted.

“ — Trying your best,” Crosshair tried to lighten up.

“Do you have any ideas?” you asked softly. “You can definitely call some shots if you want.”

Crosshair exhaled, “No. There’s no way to shake the Empire’s attention off of you, but getting rid of this should help.” He hesitated to open up with you again, “I’m here to protect you, for as long as I can.”

—--

Coruscant's underworld buzzed with foreign and familiar chatter between living species and droids. Each street had its own crowd to get lost in. Wearing the dark, unique helmets and armor you had on the ship, you and Crosshair moved through the crowds attempting to attract as little attention as possible. It was much easier said than done. “We already have eyes on us. You didn’t have any helmets that would make you look—” Crosshair complained. “What?” you stammered back.

“Well, less like a bounty hunter?” He opined.

“I already told you; I can’t show my face here,” you looked him up and down, “And you shouldn’t either.” “Nobody is going to care about another long-lost clone,” Crosshair muttered. “You were never an ordinary clone, and you know it,” you rebutted. “True.” Crosshair concluded.

You and Crosshair continued to wander up a street in Coruscant. The gutters were littered with trash and reflected blurred neon lights. Changing music boomed from each venue you passed; hearing passerby’s slice of life conversations in the midst. 

Walking as casual as you could, it was true that you were gathering eyes. Crosshair’s height and stature along with your full-faced black helmets caused the on-coming foot traffic to spread, giving you space in every direction. It was as if you and Crosshair were walking through the crowd in a bubble.

“We’re almost there,” you sigh close to Crosshair’s helmet. You duck into a faintly lit bar with Crosshair following closely behind you. Making your way past the bartender, small dancing crowd, and booths, you disappear down the back stairs into a hallway with closed doors.

You slink to a door in the middle of the hallway and knock, but nobody answered. “You didn’t check to see if they were here first?” Crosshair pressed. “I couldn’t risk using my personal comm number. She won’t pick up anonymous calls either,” you explained while trying to manually open the door. The door wouldn’t budge.

“How the hell did you end up back here?” A voice down the hallway materialized. 

Pulling your pistol out startled, you shined a light on the figure approaching. 

“I see you’re still kinda jumpy, baby,” the man ran his hand through his longer locks and stopped advancing just a few feet from you and Crosshair.

“Oh Maker, why are you here?” you lowered your blaster and light. 

“Who’s he?” Crosshair and the man said simultaneously. You looked at Crosshair and hesitated, “Crosshair, this is… my friend, Ric.”

“Just friend?” Ric, boisterous as always, exploded, “You faked your death and didn’t tell anybody you’re actually alive?” “That would defeat the point of faking my death,” you bickered. Ric pressed harder, “Or rather, you faked your death instead of breaking up with me?”

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, “It’s a lot more believable for all parties if someone mourns my death.” 

“Do you even know what you put me through?” Ric nearly yelled. You shrugged again acknowledging the question.

Ric took a step forward in anger. “You’re psychotic!”

Crosshair took a step forward and put his arm in front of you in hopes to de-escalate the conflict and protect you. 

Ric flinched forward at Crosshair, you raised your blaster at him.

“Don’t touch him,” you ordered to Ric.

Ric took a step back, motioning his hands to drop the conversation.

“Does he even know who you are?” he eyed Crosshair up and down and paused. You and Crosshair didn’t move from your near-combat stance. 

Ric sighed, “Why are you back?” “I’m looking for Zena,” you said tartly.

“Off-planet. So I guess you’re stuck with me,” Ric huffed.

“Lovely,” you grumbled.

Gritting your teeth you mentally ran through your situation. Ric knows you're alive, so regardless if you worked with him or not to get rid of the holocron, he’s a real liability. He knows your identity and situation with the Empire. “So, what can I do you for?” Ric tried to restart the conversation.

Crosshair felt your hesitation to rengage. “We’re looking to offload something of high value,” Crosshair snaked into the transaction.

“Does Zena still collect Jedi artifacts and weapons?” you found your voice again. Ric’s face shifted to a more serious expression, “What did you find?” “How do I know you’re not going to sell me out the second I tell you?” you fretted.

“If Zena is interested, then it’s in my interest to acquire it,” Ric crossed his arms. The deal was going nowhere fast. Your gut growing anxious from distrust, you exhaled and looked around the hallway to ensure privacy.

“You rarely squirm, baby” Ric imposed, “You must have something real good.”

“You’re gross,” you shot at him while you unzipped your bag. You took out the holocron and showed Ric. His eyes grew large and he came closer. 

“Is that real?” Ric reached out to grab it, but Crosshair pushed his hand away. “It’s real. Is Zena interested?” you bantered back. “No. Not in that. But I know someone who is,” Ric responded. You and Crosshair look at each other, both sensing something was off. “I’d rather know who I’m selling it to personally,” you said as you put it back into your bag. “Thanks for your time, Ric.”

“You don’t trust me?” Ric stepped in front of you to prevent you leaving the hallway. “How is it that you don’t trust me, but I trust you?”

“I’m not here to rehash the past, Ric. I’m dead to you, remember?” you affirmed.

Embarrassed that Crosshair had to witness a conversation with a ghost from your past, you took his hand and squeezed it a little in gratitude that you had him there for support. Ric was manipulative and years ago; you’d use him and he’d use you. 

“Just let me know if Zena is interested, okay?” you pushed your way past Ric in the hallway, Crosshair following you closely. Crosshair looked down at Ric intimidatingly as he passed. 

The club music rattled within your chest as you tried to make your way up the stairs and out of the bar; it was so loud you couldn’t make out what Crosshair was trying to indicate to you. 

With his helmet masking his lips, it was difficult to make out his sudden urgency as he waved his hands and was shouting. He jumped on you, forcing you to the ground, just as blue blaster fire went over your head. The music stopped.

You peered up from the table Crosshair dove you behind. Imperial guards moved into the bar, their blasters fixed on you. Looking back to the rear staircase, you see Ric lean against the wall, as if he were waiting for a show to start.

“Bastard,” you muttered to Crosshair.  “He must have called them before we even got inside.” 

“You sure know how to pick them,” Crosshair mocked you a little.

Crosshair readied his rifle and patiently waited for more soldiers to file inside. He focused on one of them, hesitated, then pulled the trigger sending a ricocheting fire that blasted nearly all of the stormtroopers down. The few remaining soldiers were easy to pick off between you and Crosshair. Within seconds, the room was stabilized and returned to silence.

You stared up at Crosshair, “My boyfriend is a… God.”

“Boyfriend?” Crosshair gushed. “Uh-huh,” you could hear him smile through his helmet.

More soldiers burst into the room, sending more shots into your direction. You and Crosshair blasted a few, but were ultimately overrun. You and he ducked behind the table once more in a slight panic.

“Where were these Imperial reinforcements when I needed them?” Crosshair fumed. 

“They know I’m here. I’m not a big ticket item for the Empire, but I am for—-” you lost your thought as you peered to the door. “Oh, son of a sarlacc.” 

The guard at the door divided and a familiar face appeared, Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin. 

The room fell to silence.

“It’s a coincidence I happened to be on-planet for your arrival,” his words danced in the air. “I had a feeling you would re-surface eventually,” 

You sighed, the jig was up. You stood and bravely took off your helmet, locking eyes with the Admiral. 

“Hi Uncle,” you snarked.

“And you’re not traveling alone, I see,” the Admiral tilted his head to see Crosshair kneeling behind the table at your side. 

Crosshair stood and took his helmet off too.

“And with a clone, no less,” Tarkin sneered. 

You grabbed Crosshair’s hand and laced your fingers with his.

“Or, with a clone, no less.” Tarkin emphasized, raising an eyebrow. He squinted his eyes at Crosshair, “It has been a while since we documented you escaping imprisonment, CT-9904.”

Crosshair narrowed his eyes at the Admiral and tightened his jaw. “You remembered. How touching,” he growled.

“I never did understand your fascination with old toys,” Tarkin said, focusing back on you, “Or how you could lower your standards to court Imperial property.”

Crosshair lurched forward in anger, but he hesitated as the blasters remained fixed on you both. 

Tarkin walked close, inspecting you and Crosshair. “Search them,” he instructed his guards. 

The guards took your helmets, blasters, patted down your armor, took your knife, and then your pack. One guard opened the bag and slowly lifted the holocron from it.

“Sir, we found this,” the TK buckethead reported handing the holocron to Tarkin. 

“This changes a few things,” Tarkin said as he took it into his hands. “The Emperor and Lord Vader have searched the galaxy for such artifacts with little success.” His eyes traveled from the holocron back to you and Crosshair. “I have little interest in their ancient religion, but not disclosing this information would be unwise.”

“Guards,” Tarkin began to walk from the room, “Load them up on my cruiser and take them to our ship. I’m sure Lord Vader will have no mercy for these traitors.”

“Lord–who?” you questioned. You remembered the Inquisitor saying the same name back on Pabu, but you dare not reveal your run-in with the Inquisitor in front of the Admiral.

“It appears you’ve been smuggling valuable information, Jedi information.” Tarkin explained poorly.

“Jedi information? It’s an art piece,” you argued.

“Take them away,” Tarkin jeered.

“But you’re family!” you grunted as a guard cuffed your wrists and hit your shoulder to walk forward. Tarkin turned before exiting and without emotion relayed, “You are no family of mine.”

You and Crosshair were led to a cruiser parked in the middle of the street. Coruscant's social rumblings gave the scene no pause, as if Imperial arrests were as common as a local stray loth-cat. 

“I’m sorry,” you shifted to Crosshair as much as you could. “We’re in this together,” Crosshair assured you.

“I’m not sure what this just turned into. But I have a bad feeling about this,” you whispered.

“Mm-hmm,” Crosshair agreed.

The cruiser’s doors locked and sealed dampening the club scene of Coruscant behind you. You and Crosshair were shuffled to the side of the ship and were motioned to sit. Hearing the engines ignite, the ship took flight. 

The cruiser left Coruscant's atmosphere and docked inside an Imperial starship. You and Crosshair stared out the small corner of the window you could see.

You were then led off the ship and checked into the starship’s detention level. 

You were pushed into your cell, which was across the hallway from Crosshair’s. The transport guard left you without a word, leaving you and Crosshair imprisoned. You stood at the cell door and listened to the Stormtrooper’s chatter down the hall. 

“Vader will arrive sometime in the next few rotations to deal with these prisoners personally,” the transport guard said to the prison guard.

You gazed at Crosshair, his eyes complex in emotion.

“I’m sorry you’re alone in a prison cell again,” you apologized.

“I’m not alone,” he remained soft.

Part 5: Family Matters

-----

Tag list: @tentakelspektakel

Chapters: 5/10 Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Ezra Bridger/Sabine Wren Characters: Ezra Bridger, Sabine Wren, Ursa Wren, Alrich Wren, Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla, Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, C1-10P | Chopper, Tristan Wren Additional Tags: First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love Series: Part 5 of Sabezra Week 2023 Summary:

Slight AU Instead of joining the rebellion, Ezra and Sabine end up meeting for the first time on Krownest in the midst of the Mandalorian-Jedi conflict.

‐--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Currently editing Chapter Six of my latest Sabezra fic and I'm getting all the feels 🥹 

If you fancy getting stuck into a rom-com, mixed with angst and drama Sabezra fic, I've linked it below!

Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, liked and reblogged my story, it means so much and I'm having such a great time writing it! 

Chapter Six will be up tonight!

a hundred vanished summers

“Hush—”

“You hush!”

“I can’t hear anything!”

“Yeah, cuz your ear is shoved in my—”

“Kids.”

Luke and Leia started, leapt up, and immediately tried to look as innocent as possible. For Luke, that meant full wide-eyed naivety that would put an ack-puppy to shame. For Leia, that meant an angelic who, me? that never seemed to work quite as well as Luke’s, but that was what Luke was for.

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker stood in front of them, Obi-Wan looking sternly amused and Anakin looking amusedly stern.

“Care to explain why you’re eavesdropping outside your mother’s door?” Anakin raised an eyebrow. Leia could almost sense Luke shuddering in his boots. Although General Skywalker had always been kind and patient with the twins, he could be terrifying when he wanted to be. Like, say, now.

Leia squared her shoulders and said firmly, “Reconnaissance.”

Obi-Wan let out a snort then quickly covered his mouth with his fist and looked away. Anakin seemed less impressed than before.

“Reconnaissance.” Anakin’s voice was flat.

“Yes,” Leia said airily. “I would have thought you’d heard of it, being a General in the Alliance and all.”

“Oh, I’m familiar with it.” Anakin crossed his arms. “Its ins and outs. And its specific punishments in military courts.”

Punishments. Never a good word, coming from Anakin. Deceptively easygoing in humor, he could stiffen into a crackling authority figure at a moment’s notice, thundering commands with a strictness that had all the give of stone. Luke (not so subtly) poked Leia, who sent him a wave of watch yourself. Time to tread carefully. Anakin believed that the punishment should fit the crime and displayed an unparalleled creativity in designing penalties. Once, the twins had borrowed (stolen) his ship because they wanted to learn to fly, and he had made them clean it from top to bottom without so much as a cleaning droid to help them to return it to its original condition. Sometimes, Leia swore she could still smell the lemon cleaning solution on her hands. In another disaster, they had snuck out in the middle of the night to explore the forest surrounding the base with some friends. That had been a bad time. Mom had been frightened out of her mind because someone (Luke) had forgotten to leave a note, not to mention the predators roaming at night that would probably snap up an eleven-year-old without a second thought, and the twins hadn’t been allowed out after sunset for weeks. Leia still suspected that scaring Mom had been what really pissed Anakin off, and what had led to their punishment. Not that Anakin had been the one to punish them, but the idea had his stern fingerprints all over it.

“We’re trying to figure something out,” Luke chimed uncertainly. “For Mom.”

Oh, this was good. Anakin had a ridiculous soft spot for Luke, paralleled by Luke's ridiculous hero worship of him. Leia had mentioned it to Luke once, but Luke had stopped incredulously, mouth falling open, and said she was clearly Anakin’s favorite. That had led to a weeklong heated argument between the twins, until being the bold Naberrie twins, they had marched up to Anakin and asked him themselves which one was his favorite. Without missing a beat or even looking up, Anakin had said their mother. Humph. Leia couldn’t argue with that, but still.

“Perhaps you can figure it out without invading her privacy in the future,” Obi-Wan said, eyes twinkling. “Don’t you agree, Anakin?”

With a sigh, Anakin shifted on his feet and said, “Yeah, sure. I don’t want to see you two doing this again. Clear?”

“Crystal!” chirped the twins in unison, and then instantly sped off while speeding off was still possible. No use pushing their luck too far. Thank the Force for Obi-Wan; he was much better (more indulgent) than Anakin, bringing the twins gifts and usually just smirking when they got into trouble, although Luke had once told Leia he thought Obi-Wan was laughing at Anakin, not the twins. Leia had dismissed it, unwilling to explore further. Obi-Wan and Anakin’s relationship was not territory for the faint of heart to tread.

Skipping across the base, wind ruffling their hair, the twins chased each other to a hidden corner they had seized for themselves on the far edge, where there were more droids than living beings, if there were droids at all. Growing up with a mother who led the Rebellion meant that Leia had grown used to storage units as playgrounds, but she didn’t mind it. She had Luke, and that was all that really mattered.

“Okay,” Luke came to a stop behind their chosen pile of boxes, hair windswept and eyes serious. He straightened his back and set his chin like he'd observed Anakin do when leading briefings. (Leia resisted rolling her eyes). “Did you hear anything?”

Leia stopped and collapsed onto a box. “Nope.” She pushed her braids behind her ears. “Only dumb diplomacy stuff again.”

Luke groaned and collapsed onto a box too, abandoning all efforts at channeling General Skywalker. “At this rate, we’ll never find out.”

Leia’s mouth flattened, but she had to agree. Their plan, which had been laid out so smoothly at first, had quickly buckled underfoot and sent them careening off track.

It had all begun when Luke and Leia had overheard Rex laughing with Ahsoka about Mom and the twins. Rex had wryly said that the two little devils (should have been mean, but coming from Rex, Leia had felt proud) were going to be even more of a handful as they grew up, and Ahsoka had smirked and said they took after their father, so it was hardly a surprise. Luke and Leia had looked at each other, curiosity dawning in their eyes. They didn’t know anything about their father. Mom had said nothing. As they'd gotten older, both of them had asked Mom about him, but her lips had remained duracrete sealed. After one too many pleas, she had sat them down at their kitchen table and told them gently but firmly that she couldn’t share anything yet for their safety. It had about as satisfying as having brelka leaves for dinner, but the twins trusted their mother and so had let the matter be.

Until they had overheard new information, of course. Which had instantly reignited both their curiosity and their determination, leading to their snooping around the base to see if they could overhear anything else. Mom may be telling the truth about safety, but Leia was sure she and Luke could handle it. They were eleven.

The two grew quiet as they reflected on possible next steps. The sun warmed Leia’s back, growing hotter and signaling the approach of midday. Soon it would be lunch, and lunch was followed by lessons, and lessons were followed by homework, and homework was followed by chores, and chores were followed by bed. Leia sighed. Tough being eleven, sometimes. They might have to put their investigation on hold until tomorrow.

A rustling on the other side of the boxes, where Luke and Leia couldn’t see, picked up. Faint voices grew louder with stomping footsteps. Luke sat up, meeting Leia’s gaze. Another chance for... reconnaissance. Carefully, Leia summoned all of her limited training in the Force and reached out for Anakin, Luke concentrating in tow. Anakin’s warm and towering presence was across the base, so they were safe from discovery (and unpleasant results like punishments).  At Leia’s little stretch towards him, the Force rushed over her in a returning caress that made Leia grin, a quiet happiness spooling up in her.

Her contentment was soon interrupted, though, by the sound of two men on the other side of the boxes. Sour smoke filled Leia’s nostrils, and Luke made a gagging motion next her; of course, the isolation on this part of the base meant it was perfect for unauthorized smoke breaks. Blech.

“There were rumors even during the Clone Wars,” a man scoffed.

“Yeah, but nothing serious. All of it was stupid tabloid stuff,” the other man reflected. “Always on Amidala’s friendly relationship with the Jedi.”

Luke and Leia both darted glances at each other.

“She turned about to be friendly, all right,” the first man sneered. “So friendly she got two kids out of it—shavit, there’s Roulta. Quick, gimme your tab.”

Stomping followed, then footsteps hurried away. Smoke still hung in the air, puffing through the breeze, but Leia ignored it, mind racing with the new information.

“I don’t get what’s so funny, Mom’s friendly to everyone,” Luke began, forehead wrinkled in confusion, but Leia jumped in authoritatively.

“They’re saying our dad is a Jedi. One who was close to Mom during the Clone Wars.” Her eyes narrowed, and she scuffed her feet against a box. “A lot of them are dead, though.”

“Yeah,” Luke got up from his spot and plopped down next her gravely. The afternoon, previously so sunny and breezy, darkened a shade. Neither of the twins had learned the full story of the Clone Wars yet, but the tight pain in Obi-Wan’s eyes when it was mentioned was enough for them. Anakin would simply walk away. But Obi-Wan had always…

Leia’s eyes widened, and she gave Luke a solid kick.

“Hey—”

“Luke. Mom was close to Obi-Wan during the Clone Wars.”

Luke froze at that, nose wrinkled and eyes distant. “She was?”

“Yeah! ‘Member the story about Naboo?” Sometimes, when weather slowed the busy pacing of the base and Mom got back to their quarters early, she’d regale the twins with stories of when she’d been a child queen. A few of the stories had featured Obi-Wan, meaning that Mom had known Obi-Wan for a long time. Meaning…

“Obi-Wan could be our dad,” Leia breathed, an explosion of victory and excitement rushing through her. It all fit. Mom and Obi-Wan had always been close, Obi-Wan’s fondness for the twins, his little gifts, his unalterable presence their lives, solid and steady. He had watched over them since they were infants, and Leia couldn’t imagine life without him.

Luke’s eyes had widened, and a bright grin spread across his face. “That would be wizard.”

Leia was grinning too. Obi-Wan as their dad? It would be incredible. He’d let them steal his ship without punishment, Leia was sure of it. She paused there, something about the comparison scratching at the edges of her brain to be let in, but then Luke sprang up and chirruped, “Let’s go tell him!” His excitement washed over Leia, doubling her own, and she leapt up too. She could hardly wait to see Obi-Wan's reaction. 

--

Spotting Obi-Wan sitting at a table in the cafeteria, Leia tugged at Luke’s sleeve and ordered, “Let me do the talking this time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke muttered, shooting Leia a glare. Before Leia could push Luke back into his place with a well-placed verbal shove though, Obi-Wan looked up and smiled.

“There you two are. Your mother was looking for you earlier.”

Scrambling into the chair across from Obi-Wan, Leia said brightly, “Really? Were you talking to her?”

“Of course. Your mother and I are friends, you know.” Obi-Wan responded dryly.

“And have been for a long time?” Luke reached out and spun a fork on the table. Leia was sure he meant to sound casual, but he just sounded wistful as he stared at the fork whirling. Oh, Luke. Leia tutted internally. Her brother had an openness that Leia loved but worried about, sometimes. She’d once asked Anakin about it, because if anyone would know the answer, it would be Anakin, and he said it was Luke’s strength, not a flaw. Leia had furrowed her brow at first, but then remembered how Luke seemed to set everyone at ease, even the refugee children who sat in a corner and never talked, and so had nodded firmly in agreement. Anakin had smiled at her and said she was a good sister to look out for Luke like that, and Leia had shot back that someone had to. That had made Anakin laugh, a rare (and treasured) sound, and Leia had been quite proud of herself for accomplishing it.

“Yes, have been for a long time.” Obi-Wan’s eyes grew shrewd, and he set down his cup. “What's this about?”

The twins looked at each other, and then Leia blurted out, “We know you’re our dad.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up but other than that, he didn't react. “And where did you get this idea, may I ask?”

“We overheard someone talking about it,” Luke said seriously. “So we figured it out.”

Obi-Wan leaned back slowly and stroked his beard. The twins watched, waiting for him to – well, to do something. Leia had expected soft hugs and softer words, not silence. Obi-Wan was being disappointingly undramatic. 

“I wish I could say I was,” Obi-Wan said finally. “But no, I’m not.” Then, gentle and understanding because he was Obi-Wan: “Have you tried talking to your mother about this?”

Leia wouldn’t be distracted. She raised her chin stubbornly. “How do you know?”

“...Well,” Obi-Wan started, seeming uncomfortable for the first time in the conversation. He paused.

Luke and Leia crossed their arms in unison, staring him down.

“You don’t,” Luke finished triumphantly. “So, you could be.”

“I assure you, I am not,” Obi-Wan stated, sounding a tad sharp for the first time in the conversation. “You have my word on that.”

“Why should we believe you?” Leia leaned forward ferociously, stabbing an accusing finger at Obi-Wan. “You could have been hiding from us all this time.”

The Force hardened, and Obi-Wan stood up in an instant, sternness radiating from him. The twins jolted. Uh oh.

“That's enough. If you two want to learn more, you need to talk to your mother.”

“But—” Luke interrupted miserably.

“No,” Obi-Wan lifted a finger. “I understand you two are curious. But your mother is the person to ask.”

With that, he walked away. Leia looked at Luke with a grimace. She’d forgotten that Obi-Wan could out-strict Anakin when he wanted to. Anakin had to get it from somewhere, after all. Master Kenobi could make General Skywalker look like a knock-kneed amateur.

The thought of Anakin made Leia wistful, like Luke had been earlier. She prodded her brother, who was sullenly spinning the fork again.

“Let’s go find Anakin.”

Luke perked up at the suggestion. If anyone could redeem the day, it would be Anakin. Maybe he could teach the twins how to fix R2 again. Last time, he had shown them how to wire a knife to R2’s pincers, but Mom had vetoed any further research into the area. The twins had voted to veto Mom, but Anakin had said Mom's powers were of the sort that couldn't be overruled. With a tsk, getting up from her seat, Leia thought that General Skywalker seemed to melt away under Mom's disapproving stare.  

--

Anakin was hard to find, though – Leia had wanted to use the Force, but Luke had airily said he was going to find Anakin without it, in a not-so-subtle challenge. Leia had gritted her teeth and immediately run through the base, peering into conference rooms, storage closets, and down hallways, but with no luck. Luke, who had simply kept next to her, hadn’t spotted him either. They were mournfully trailing along a wall on the east side of the base when they saw Ahsoka in the distance.

“Aunt Soka!” Luke cried out, running forward in a burst of speed. “Have you seen Anakin?”

Ahsoka halted, grinning at the twins. “Can’t say I have recently, but I did see him and your mom earlier. Looked like they were getting lunch.” Raising an eyebrow marking, “Why?”

“We got into trouble with Obi-Wan,” Luke sighed mournfully. Outwardly stoic, Leia privately agreed with the moping. Obi-Wan’s disapproval was the worst, second only to Anakin’s, which was second only to Mom’s.

Ahsoka snorted. “I’m sure Anakin could tell you what that’s like.” Her montrals swayed in the wind as she added, “Why don’t you try finding your mom? She’s usually easier to track down. And,” a sly grin, “Anakin and your mom are often together.”

Made sense – the head of the Rebellion with one of its major generals. Plus, Anakin and Mom got along pretty well. Anakin himself had said Mom was his favorite Naberrie, a fact Leia somewhat disapproved of (personally, she thought Anakin should have picked her, not Mom) but knew to be true. Leia briskly turned to Luke.

“She’s right. Let’s go find Mom.”

Ahsoka called out a teasing, “You’re welcome!” as the twins dashed off, and Leia waved enthusiastically in response. Ahsoka could always be counted on. (On that thought, maybe the twins could finish their R2 project with her.)

The wind had picked up with the passing of the day, and giant gusts blew by the twins as they approached their quarters. At this time of day, Mom usually holed up there, surrounded by giant stacks of datapads and flimsi and half-drunk cups of tea. Even if Anakin wasn’t there, Leia could always ask Mom to fix her hair. It was getting as bad as Luke’s, with the roaring breeze.

The noise of the wind blanketed the sounds of the twins storming into the quarters. They could tell Mom was inside – her wrap draped across the chair, half-drunk cup of tea next to it – but Mom was nowhere to—

“Ani."

Mom sounded amused and vexed at the same time, voice echoing in from down the hall. 

The twins halted, gazing at each other in confused suspicion. 

On an instinct Leia couldn’t explain, she yanked Luke towards her and dove behind the kitchen hall. Luke’s head swiveled toward her in confusion, but Leia lifted her finger to her lips. Mom never called Anakin anything but Anakin; no one called Anakin anything other than Anakin, except Ahsoka with her Skyguys (and impertinent soldiers with a gulping yessir General Skywalker sir). Especially, especially, no one had ever called Anakin Ani. It was somehow gross, the way Mom said it, almost caressing the syllables.

Footsteps thudded into the room, followed by daintier ones.

“I keep telling you to fix that cabinet,” a deep voice grumbled. “Damn thing nearly fell off.”

“I mean to but never get around to it.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m sorry a terrorist base isn’t up to your living standards, dear.”

Luke let out a gasp that couldn’t have been that loud but seemed to reverberate through the space. Leia heard the thudding footsteps immediately march towards their hiding place, but she didn’t care at all, flinging herself up, tears in her eyes and arms crossed.

Anakin approached them, mouth harsh. “What have I told you two about eav—”

“You’re our dad.” Luke had gotten up too, but he wasn’t angry. He was pleading. Leia couldn’t relate.

That made Anakin stop in his tracks. Leia could feel his mind racing back to the conversation he’d just had, the word dear flitting across his brain with all that it implied. His face set, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he carefully kneeled to the twins’ height. Luke was still pleading, almost an open hand in the Force stretched out yearningly. Leia was so angry she could barely breathe.

She remained completely silent, glaring at Anakin. At Dad.

“Yes.” Anakin said simply. “I am.”

At that, Luke rushed forward, hitting Dad and making him go oof, clinging to him tightly. Leia stayed where she was at.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Luke asked, voice small and muffled in Dad’s shirt. He looked cozy, and like he belonged there, and a traitorous part of Leia wanted to join him, but she crossed her arms more tightly instead.

“It wasn’t safe,” Dad said after a moment, looking up to meet Leia’s eyes somberly. “Any children of mine would be targets.”

True, Dad had an ability to make enemies only overshadowed by Obi-Wan’s, but—

“You lied to us.” Leia’s voice was hard and unflinching. “You hid from us.”

Firmly, Dad reached out a hand. Leia glared at it. Dad waited.

Finally, Leia sighed, shoulders collapsed in surrender and grabbed it. Dad pulled her in, her and Luke safe and steady and warm in a way that Leia had never experienced before as she buried her head in Dad's shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Dad’s voice sounded thick, and Leia hadn’t known Dad could get teary, “I wish things could have been different.”

After a few beats, Leia murmured, "It's okay." She was still angry, but also - happy. She was happy. And now that she was thinking about it, completely unsurprised. Dad had said Mom was his favorite. 

“I suppose things will be different now,” Mom’s voice rang through the room as she walked in, eyes twinkling. “Should be more careful, going around calling you dear.”

Luke and Leia’s head shot up, and Luke ran to Mom. Leia stayed with Dad. Might as well gun for favorite child status now. (And…it was nice). She heard Dad chuckle, probably sensing her thoughts, but didn’t regret it. Dad liked initiative.

“Different?” Luke asked hopefully.

“If you two know, the entire base will.” Mom mused. "There's no point in hiding it." Well, Leia thought with a mental snort, Luke was hardly subtle. He was already looking back at Dad, hero worship plain in his eyes. Leia stuck out her tongue at him from Dad’s arms, and Luke scowled.

He ran back to Dad, and then Mom followed him with a laugh, both of them thudding into Dad and nearly making him fall over as Leia protested at getting squished in the middle. Chattering filled the air, as Luke breathlessly asked question after question, Mom and Dad patiently answering, until Leia, whose face had scrunched in thought, suddenly said in disgust:

“Wait, you call him Ani?”

Dad’s face flattened, but Mom threw back her head and laughed.