Chapter Text
Night fell with aplomb, as the darkness lifted up from the horizon, the Hosnian sky erupted in red, green, and golden lights, and a second later the burst of fireworks rang in his ears.
“May the force be with you”.
He hears his mother’s farewell as a distant rumbling, as she halts at the doorway, waiting.
Ben pries his eyes off the high window of his office, and a rough chuckle leaves him, “I don’t need it”.
He is sure, Leia Organa just rolled her eyes, “We all need it as much as the force needs us”, cold wind flutters the ends of her long robe and a lonely flower of fire brightens the night sky and her tired yet amused face, “do you understand that?” and in a low voice she grunts, “nerf herder”.
Ben wants his mother to know that he has stopped hearing whispers, the tendrils of that light touch; the insistent pull of force trying to reach him, to find a cause in him- it has faded.
Instead, he grumbles, “I can get you arrested for insubordination”.
Her laughter is one full of mirth, “Try me, you half-witted, scruffy-looking Nerf herder”.
Fingers tap a hurried tune on the tabletop, and his legs are jittery, even at twenty-six he has not learned to accept goodbyes, “When will I see you again?”
The muted festivities from the celebration reach them through the open windows, and it muffles her reply, “My work here is done”.
His mother takes a deep breath and watery eyes find and hold his sight, while a bright smile transforms her face, “Senator Solo”.
It’s the celebration of the Equinox, and the streets are lined with citizens of Hosnia, the old and young will carry the merriment of the night till the crack of dawn.
It’s a day of celebration for him too, he was elected senator today, the youngest Chandrilan ever to ascend to the senate.
***
For reasons he doesn’t care to deliberate, Ben is anxious, as if he is at the precipice of something.
There is a dusting of sweat on his forehead, his knuckles are white on the rails, he escaped the throng of his well-wishers and supporters to stare at the long stretch of the silver sea.
The pinpricks of a familiar awareness straighten his spine, he has long learned to ignore it but tonight here at the gala in this palatial seafront manor, he feels as if the force is reaching out for him, asking him to listen, even though he has no intention to tune in.
Curtains flutter in the sea wind; he could hear the clink of glasses, the hushed whispers, the loud laughers.
The roar of the sea meeting the shore matches the pounding of his heart.
Ben wasn’t this nervous at the senate hall yesterday when he was presenting the bill, where the eyes of friends, and foes were on him.
“Senator” Lady Lenz brings him back to the celebration, her cheeks are a ruddy red from the wine, and she is swaying slightly on her feet but her face is one of jubilation “Are you hiding here when everyone is looking for you?”
The wine is playing tricks with her tongue, and she points to the great hall where her husband is giving a toast.
He gives her a small smile and moves away from the balustrade, giving one last longing look at the sea, to go back to playing the ruse of enjoying pleasantries, “I was simply enjoying the scenery, lead the way, My lady”.
She is the hostess of tonight’s gala, her husband was a senator and used to be a close ally of his mother until he started dealing with the empire to widen his influence.
That was in the past, tides have changed and he is influential enough to sway some voters in his direction, toward the bill.
Let’s just say his mother was not ecstatic when she came to know that Winmey Lenz is throwing a gala to honor Ben.
As he re-entered the great hall, Lenz is almost done with his speech, the tall man cuts a striking figure as he stands at the top of the winding staircase and turns on his heels to glance at Ben, and lifts his glass of Corellian whiskey.
He carries on, “As I said, today is a momentous day for all of us, we moved one step closer to getting the bill passed in the Senate.”
Winmey Lenz and other affluent Chadrilans have a lot of interest in the bill, the regulations will stop the drain of business from their core world factories. Along with a promise to effect changes in the tax regulations in their favor-he has the blessings of the entire Bormea Sector.
Small, inconsequential things in return for bigger things, because bigger, frightening things are lurking in the corners of the galaxy.
“Thanks to Senator Solo, who has been representing us for the last three years”.
The deliberate pause is received by applause and cheers, Lenz takes a long swig and empties his liquor, “It’s been a long way till here and it's a long way ahead…”
A sense of wrongness, one that of frantic uneasiness, raises his hackles, it tickles his skin like a swarm of Bees.
He scans the large hall, it is opulent to a fault with its shiny glass walls, and quadranium accents, a chandelier with nova crystals centers the room which now echoes the loud cheers and hoots.
“We ask you, friends! To spread the word, call your influential friends and associates, and sway your spouses”.
He lowers his voice as if in secret, “And your lovers”.
Ben walks away from the balcony that runs the entire length of the hall, his steps are guided by some urgency, people make way for him, some nods and bows, there are appreciative glances and murmurs, some back pats, and ‘congratulations’.
Another ring of laughter gets trapped inside the hall at Lenz’s words.
The cacophony of voices must have touched the chandelier for it stirs for a blink and the glass walls of the hall shake.
His hands are clammy, and his heart feels suspended in mid-air as his eyes peer at the exit.
Ben hears it, a small hiss, he stops dead in his tracks, and the crystal chandelier sways- without a moment’s notice, it comes down, and Ben watches as it slowly makes its way to the floor, to crash loudly.
Everything stills for a moment, the only sound is the clinking symphony of crystals breaking, and shattering.
Someone screams and the lights go out, his heart skips a few beats as the red of a blaster bolt blooms right next to his face.
***
The ramp of the falcon lowers with a groan and a squeal, and it hits the ground with a loud thud, “You must remember who you are, people won’t let you forget,” his father has one foot on the ramp as he raps out early morning wisdom.
Young Ben wants to cry a little, they had only three days together, and he is leaving back to wherever his job takes him. And Ben is stuck with more studies.
He stomps his feet in quick succession to let his father know of his disapproval, when Han doesn’t stop loading the Falcon, he resorts to silent sulking.
Ben knows that his mother must have told him about the taunts at school.
She must have tasked Han Solo to give some fatherly advice as Ben is going to Chandrila to further his education, in history, state affairs, and political science, a summer away from his uncle’s temple, to be lost in thick textbooks and musty rooms.
And his Mother promised if he behaves, next summer he can have flight lessons in the academy “And who am I?
Slowly, as if he wants to savor the moment his father turns around with a small smile on his face, he lightly touches the blunt ends of Ben’s braids, “You are the son of a senator, nephew of Luke Skywalker” Han pats his head, “A prince, a Jedi in training…”
“And a scoundrel” Ben completes, reclaiming his father’s legacy too, something his mother won’t let them forget.
His father chuckles, “Yes, you are my son too”.
Han Solo pulls him close, the familiar smell of burnt wires, recycled air, and engine grease envelops and comforts Ben, “You bear the weight of a legacy, people will talk - to your face and behind your back, but must know your truth”.
Ben is twelve, and he knows there is something his father is intentionally missing out on, the most important part of the puzzle, which is Ben’s legacy, ‘You are the grandson of Vader’.
***
He presses his palm to his neck where the sting of the blaster shot burns, the collar of his robe singes, and the smell of burnt hair invades his nose.
Saved by a hair’s breadth! Ben does not doubt that the shot was aimed at him, he ducked just a second too late, and it caught his hair.
The room is swathed in darkness, the lights went out when the first shot rang, and the feeble efforts of people trying to hold their breath and cries fill the air until another shot pierces the air.
Screams, shouts, calls for help!
There are five of them, the weapons are military grade, a regenerate M-15 model from the clone wars, probably made in an off-world factory, the laser beams are sharp and precise, and the men move like a unit, well trained, well-paid, shards of crystal crush under their heavy boots.
‘They are here for me’, Ben thought, when they started walking slowly towards the center.
Weapons are not allowed inside, there are security guards and droids posted on every door of this house, and only guests and their companions are here, someone must have leaked the layout and the security details.
“Senator Skywalker, step out,” a mechanical voice says, undoubtedly from a modulator.
Interesting choice of a name though, not Solo or Organa. It is to remind him and those around him that he is after all a Skywalker.
He gets up from the floor, and the lights come back on, blinding him for a moment.
Ben opens his eyes to find blaster guns pointed at him, “Let this be a lesson to everyone who put their faith in the hands of a madman’s grandson”.
It’s a script, there is no conviction in their voice, not a real threat- they are pawns, actors, “We don’t want you making rules for us” again the leader says, his body is stiff, voice devoid of emotion but the blaster aimed at him doesn’t falter.
“Who sent you?” Ben manages to ask, he is the only one standing. Thankfully, others have made themselves small and have crouched down to the floor, it will be just him- easy and quick.
The man who is as tall as Ben and has taken up the role of the leader grinds on, “Goodbye, senator” marching a little closer from the corner of the room towards him.
He feels it, a storm gathering, the air around him is warping itself to form angry winds that could destroy, and kill. And in the middle of it something brilliant but dark, subdued yet powerful.
He sees rather than hears the shot aimed at him, creating a streak of red light on its path, and in a blink, it will meet its target-his rapidly beating heart.
Time slows as if he is approaching the Maw Nebulae, where the black hole clusters take away your perception of time, he clearly sees the slow path of the glowing particles of the plasma.
And it stops mid-air.
He can feel the heat, the buzz, the smell of ozone, but it never touches him, it dances to a static tune a few feet in front of him.
Someone has stopped a blaster bolt.
***
“There is no emotion; There is only peace”, Luke recites to a young Ben whose knuckles are bloodied and bruised, his uncle wipes a trail of blood finding its way down his temple, the aftermath of another fight.
A minute ago, he was practicing forms in the courtyard of the temple.
Luke inspects his face one more time, his uncle hasn’t had harsh words yet, but Hennix is missing a molar, his elbow is bent at an odd angle, and one of the training droids has turned into a mash of nuts and bolts.
“There is no emotion; There is only peace,” Master Skywalker says again. It’s damning when his master recites the code to admonish him as if he is not worthy of the mystical energy.
It’s another warning too, telling Ben not to feel so much, not to give in anger, the force isn’t a weapon, not to be used for retribution and Ben looks up at his uncle,
“Maybe the force is not for me”.
***
She steps out from the darkness of an alcove, her face a mystery, the flickering panel lights above cast her face in half-shadow and half-light.
The force is a tangible truth around her, the waves of which reach Ben, and blankets him in a hold, the sinew tendons of her outstretched hand tighten in strength and concentration, holding off the fire meant to take his life.
She shifts carefully, then the amber light of the hall illuminates her face for him, a beautiful face, one that belongs in a still painting, with its high cheekbone, sharp jaw, and soft lips painted a vibrant red; that face is contorted with effort.
The flash of silver catches his eyes, on her dress, and even in this most inopportune time, when he is a blink away from a painful death, he cannot but admire the figure she cuts in the dress.
Well, if he is going to die, let this pretty young lady with creamy skin in a low-cut dress be the last thing he sees.
The blaster bolts shake as her hand slacks a bit, and she pulls it towards her. Ben shouts a No, a sudden fear takes hold of him for the strange girl who is exhibiting the greatest show of force powers he has ever seen.
In his periphery, he sees the assailants aiming at her, finally awake from their stupor, and a dread seeps into his limbs much greater than the one when he was the target, he shouts another No, when his savior pulls the pulsing blast towards her.
It goes to her, slave to the force she commands, and in a second, she changes her footing.
‘She will be magnificent with a lightsaber’, he thinks as she balances her body in what resembles the opening stance of ‘Soresu’.
Her hands come together and she sends the deadly red light toward the cloaked men.
She must have hit her target, Ben doesn’t look, nor does he mind the chaos erupting around him when people get up to run, screaming.
A fist forms in the air, her fist, jamming and crushing the material of their attacker’s weapons, and dodges two shots aimed at her with quick leg work, the high slit of her dress favoring her languid movements.
A small blaster is produced from a holster strapped to her thigh and in quick succession, she fires two deadly shots at the masked men who were on the way to tackle her, and they fall with a grunt.
The fourth attacker catches up to her, but she blocks a blow to her face with a forearm and turns to elbow the big man in his face.
A shout and the distinctive sound of a nose breaking reaches Ben, the man lurch on the spot, the girl shifts and turns on her heels, and one- long, smooth, toned leg gracefully moves in a half circle to land a push kick to the man’s face.
The man staggers back, but the effort makes her lose her footing and she falls heavily on the ground. That moment of distraction turns fatal for her as the assailant stomps hard on her chest.
Kriff! He wants to send unfathomable amounts of pain to the man hurting her.
The blaster that flies out of her hand, lands close to Ben’s feet, and he grabs it.
A second, that is all the advantage the assassin had over her, and his weapon points to her prone form.
With a surprising speed, he never knew he possessed, his hand moves of its own volition, and his fingers close over the trigger just as the same thought passes over the attacker.
The man drops down with a loud thud; a puff of smoke dances out of the nozzle of the blaster her blaster he holds.
Wide-blown eyes find him, they beckon him close, deep and dark, threatening to envelop him and swallow him whole.
The surprise on her face vanishes, as he looks closely it is replaced by a flicker of anger, annoyance, and distrust.
More security guards stream in from other parts of the mansion, their clothes, and disheveled form tell him the story of a fight of their own, and a few of them surround him, creating a human shield.
She calls him to her as if they are bound by an unknown thread, people pull at his robe, some call his name, his footing is sure, he is dragged into her, and he holds on to everything he can see, as she lifts herself from the ground.
Eyes that remind him of a sunlit day in the forest of Endor, regard him, cautiously but with fascination.
Blots of red stain her cheeks, and it creeps down to her neck, as he takes in the expanse of her skin, chestnut hair has escaped its coiffure, soft, wispy tendrils of it frame her sweaty face, her chest rises and falls rapidly with her in-out drawn breaths.
And Ben feels himself breathe in time with her.
The girl looks like she wants to run but she holds her head high, her pretty face does not give anything away, denying him privy to her internal musings. There is something that sparked a warmth in her that keeps her stiffness at bay.
You need to understand the force or must have once tasted it to know the power she radiates, stronger than anything he has ever come across.
She is a touch away, her breath is coming out in steady gasps, but her soft lips part in surprise at his sudden and unconcealed perusal.
He halts a few steps away from her, and a sweet heat rises his spine, “Who are you?”
***
It's not his dream.
The red molten heat of Mustafar and the screams that shake the distant castle are absent, it is not his dream because his beautiful grandmother adorned with flowers in her hair is not lying in a coffin.
He is looking at an ocean, of endless blue, of crisp white crashing tides, the waves steal away the sand from beneath his feet, and the caress of cold water, the mild breeze, and the spray bring him peace.
Something small or rather someone small, stands close to him, a cloud of light. It is so bright that he cannot make out any sharp features, other than eyes the color of springtime buds.
The veil of the light moves as if it’s regarding him- head to toe.
It’s their dream, he is invading, “Who are you?” There is no reply and Ben remembers that he is talking to a wisp, “What are you?”
The lilting voice of the small ghost replies, angrily, “I’m a girl. And my name is Rey.”
Who is Rey? He doesn’t know- a ‘Rey’. Ben couldn’t stop the words that found their way to his lips, “You don’t look like a girl”.
There was a sudden movement, and the light touched his legs. Did she kick him? “Go away” the girl- Rey grumbles, fed up with his intrusion.
He takes in the view, and as far as dreams go this could be his favorite, he doesn’t want to leave, nothing this calm waits for him.
“Where should I go?” He speaks more to himself than Rey. What must I do? He swallows the words, and when he glances down, she is fading away, “come back” he whispers.
Ben wakes up when it is still early morning, when there is no light in the sky and nor any birdsong in the air, he is at the imperial palace of Coruscant.
His uncle is here, and so is his mother. Today they decide on the path he must take, but Ben has already made up his mind.
***
“Who are you?” Ben tries again as her eyes widen further, and the long column of her neck stretches to meet him face-on.
“Rey” she speaks.
“Rey…” he tests her name in his mouth and he likes how it falls from his lips, like something is forbidden, something long forgotten.
Rey, Rey… his mind slings around her name to remember forever.
He extends his hand, palms open and she looks at him in disbelief, the tips of her beautiful lips quirk up, a tiny frown crosses her forehead, and confusion clouds her eyes.
For a long moment she stares at him, and those warm eyes tell him nothing and her scrutiny lasts a lifetime or mere seconds, he doesn’t know.
Ben pleads, “Please…”
He extends his hands again and she takes a step, placing hers softly inside his, a jolt of electricity wracks through his body, if Rey felt it she hid it well, her face is unreadable.
“You saved my life, Rey”.
He pulls her gently and after a moment of hesitation she comes to him, he lifts her hand to his lips. Everything stills, beneath the thundering of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears, compelled to hold her sight he places a soft kiss on her hand and is thrilled when he hears her soft gasp.
A thank you for he is still standing, and breathing. And admiring…
Something flared brightly in her forest green eyes- a secret he might never know before she pulled a mask over them.
***