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Things had moved so fast.
First Scarif, then Alderaan, and then Yavin IV.
A matter of days.
In less than a week, I had lost almost everyone I had ever known.
Not everyone. And I had met people in those few days, people I somehow knew would be crucial to the rest of my life.
A scoundrel, a bright-eyed farmboy, a walking carpet.
By the time I arrived on Yavin IV the Empire was so close, no one seemed to have remembered it at all.
I listen to my breathing echoing in the chamber, distant footsteps in the hallway, and I feel a tightness in my chest.
On the one hand, I understand that there were bigger problems, and we needed to act, we needed to do something. To mourn is a luxury.
On the other, I wanted to scream. Wanted to grab someone and shake their shoulders, remind them: My homeworld is gone.
It still doesn’t feel real. It’s gone.
I will never see my parents again. I will never see another springtime like home. My friends and family are gone. What if I hadn’t taken Father’s mission? What if I hadn’t gone into politics? Would it have made a difference? Would I have known what was happening, could I have done anything? All I could do was watch as they burned.
And then Yavin IV. I almost felt like I had power. I almost forgot, Alderaan on the edges of my mind, like it didn’t happen. Like a fable told to children, a cautionary tale of what they could do. Emotions took a backseat to the need to survive. Odds were against us with much of our fleet destroyed on Scarif, lives were on the line as the Death Star moved into position to attack Yavin.
So many lives lost.
My chest hurts as I try to reconcile this. I’m supposed to be better than this. I’m supposed to be strong, a leader, this is what Father wanted of me. Is that why no one’s said anything? Averted eyes, quiet mutterings, no one saying it out loud as a princess without a planet, with a scattered people walks the halls.
I don’t want it to not hurt, I just want it to feel like it means something. I want someone to notice. The weapon has been destroyed, the empire on the back foot, the medals have been given, and I can’t look at my hair without thinking of my mother’s hands, and my father’s laughter and the smell of snow off the mountains.
But there is work to do. I am a senator without a planet. We have won battles, we have not yet won the war.
I just want it to mean something.