Archive of Our Own

Power came from presence, from the serenity of mind. Being centered and focused on what was at hand, and letting others know that you were safe. That you could help them be safe. That was all the power ever needed.

Youth made us more agile, less patient, always ready for the next fight. Youth allowed us to follow and not to lead, to hide from the responsibilities we did not have to mantle just yet. Youth does not last forever.

He was a boy when the found him as a slave in the sand, toying with engines. A youngling ready to prove himself, ready to fly out of there and make something of himself. He was a purring engine, waiting.

A resolve of steel behind a mask of patience: a presence of solid calm ready to lead in whatever way. The council made their decisions and they were to be obeyed. A calm, serenity of the voice, guarding and guiding.

Such responsibility on shoulders so young, the weight of a people hanging thick on thin fabrics. Behind elaborate guises of politics lay a fighter’s heart and a young girl’s mind, strong enough to fight for her way and for herself.

The Force focuses and gifts, stardust in the eyes of her child. A sweet, special boy, and poor as she was she would give the child riches if she could. If he had to leave her, then so be it.

Beep. Beep. Beep-beep-beep. A little droid with so much capacity for knowledge and support. Whirling away in their code, binary noises speaking comfort and sassing back. Dependable, a team they were, droid and masters, handed down. Beep. Beep. Beep-beep. Beeeeeeeeeep.

A droid built by the hands of a child, oil poured like knowledge into the circuits as he comes to life.  A communicator managing to talk his way into trouble, more than he was able to talk his way out.

A wise one we have here. Residing over the council for many years, watching them all grow, seeing their futures in his mind. Protecting the stronghold of their Order, from head councillor to legendary figure hiding in a swamp.

A flurry of red and black. Red clothed in black, a heart burning red behind the black in the eyes. A double-edged sword, sweeping and cutting, leaving the fatal blows. Up it sweeps, higher, above, before it comes crashing down.

Behind the politician’s lying smile is a dark secret. A darkness extending beyond the matters of policies and orders, a darkness extending out for their own means, curling around the lights and vanquishing them. The darkness is spreading far across.

Everything is planned as it should be. It is all in order. The lights will come on and everything will play out as we know it will. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Secret meetings and exchanges, true meaning hidden.

A diplomat must be prepared to find solutions where there seems like there is none, must be prepared to argue and fight for what they believe in while keeping their head. They must be prepared to put  trust in others.

A rebel cannot run forever, cannot hide forever from a fight that was always hers to be in. She cannot run from that, knowing that it’s a part of her history, both hers personally and that of the entire galaxy.

Sometimes the hardest things have to be done because they’re easy and sometimes the easiest way out may be the hardest one to take. It is finding a balance and serving it that means the light can be let in.

Knowing that something is right does not make it easier to do. Knowing something is scary does not mean you can’t. Knowing that there is a world waiting for you, to be brave for them, means that you can be.

The Force calls to you, speaks it’s gentle whisper into your ear and guides you along a path that most man could not see. You cannot see but you know the Force is laying out the path beneath your feet.

Baze Malbus:

The blind may literally lead and you may follow them blindly. Blinded by adoration and a need to protect, to serve and keep the faith. Keep the faith of the temple you guard. Guard the man who sees only faith.

A mistake in youth marks a man for life. A man cannot run forever and when he stops the priorities may remain but he cannot. To fix his own mistakes, he’ll need to make a deliberate one; stardust before ash.

The ultimate weapon is in your hands. Power-hungry hands that search out those that evade you. The plans must be in order, the masters must be pleased. For the Lord and the Emperor, for the successful uprising of the Empire.

Oversee the plans, the build-up and the execution. All must be in order for the new order to be build. The ashes of the planets you will lay waste to will be the foundations of the new empire you’ll build.

A farm boy can watch the suns set and not know what the new dawn will bring. A young man in training can watch obstacles block everypath, knocking him down over and over. A jedi knight can find his place.

There was a woman he watched his father save, a former slave who became a mother figure. He knew how family could be harvested and grown from seeds. He knew how family became something more. That’s what his nephew was.

She knew that family was complicated. When you married into a family you never knew if it was going to end well. Sand burned hot and fires burned hotter and moisture needed to make sure a heart didn’t dry out.

The sand can weary you, the desert sweep years on to your life. You are old now. Your purpose has narrowed to protecting only two. To protect the only two that ever really mattered. You are old now. It’s time.

He had a reputation, a stake-hold on a cornerstone, a cowboy riding his Falcon across the skies, beating records and taking money for whatever job he could find. There was a heart under the nerf-herder, a man who truly cared.

A Wookie is a warrior of powerful reputation, literally strong enough to tear the arms off his enemies. A Wookie is a powerful friend, wrapping you in their strong arms and pulling you close, fiercely protective with a strong heart.

The ringleader of a criminal family, a job and a legacy passed along. In his palace he lives as he sees fit, he has the power to command a room, to order his slaves, his singers, his dancers, his bounty.

Red hot rage and anger burning inside, the only fuel keeping his ashen black heart beating. The pain of so much loss, the death of the man you were, the boy with dreams, a family taken by his own actions.

A princess of a lost people. A senator trying to find solutions of peace in a war torn era. A general trying to organise and inspire the rebels fighting back. A girl finding a new family; her heart now whole.

Up in his clouds, the man struts around in cloaks of blue with lining of gold, laughing everything off with a joke and a smirk. It was his people to protect at any cost, even betraying friends to save them.

Lost and lonely sand child keeping herself alive in the world when noone else would. Little orphan girl dreaming of a family coming back. Strong woman searching instead for her own definition to a word she doesn’t know the meaning.

A stormtrooper, stolen from a home and made new, made into a weapon without a brain, without an identity. A man breaking free, claiming a name and a family from those that wish to gift him with such precious things.

A commander older than the average due to the aftermath of war. A child always associated with rebels, playing under a Force tree watching all the legends all around him. Growing up to walk beside them, in his rightful place.

A special little droid, unique in colour and spirit, loyal and loving, ready to fight those against their master and claim for themselves those that master claimed. Whirring and beeping, following across sands and skies, just happy to go wherever.

The Force flowing through their blood, a third generation rarity looking to reclaim the ideals of the past. Tormented by legend and raised by heroes, the darkness calls, beckons, seduces and is listened to. Dark clouds blocking out the light.

Power can corrupt just as easily as the ideals that the powerful will try to implement. Listen to his speeches, to the sweeping declarations. Listen as he stirs up the army, as he spins a fairytale of the war they’ll wage.

In her palace, under the shadow of a self-portrait she lives with her secrets and her smiles, behind her wide eyes she peers into the souls of others. At their truths. Looking right through to the person they truly are.

Captain striding down corridors in a chrome uniform, sleek and standing out, tall and imposing. Her words are orders, what she says goes, a sharp sword at their back with every spiking word. Everything down efficiently and exactly as commanded.

A hissing tongue curling around the hearts of those weak enough to listen, finding the perfect target, the perfect puppet to control for their own ends. For the power and control of the galaxies and the worlds and stars caught.