Chapter Text
The first time Ron meets the Daughter (or The Son, for that matter) ends up never happening, but it is the first time he ever time-travels, and the pact they make holds, so it's worth telling, anyway.
One moment, he is hurrying back to his bed after brushing his teeth, lest he get in trouble from the people at the Galactic Concerned Citizens Children's Home, and then he is falling sideways onto something dusty, dry, and hot. He is only four years old, and doesn't have much time to spend on anything other than whether or not he's torn his clothes (or his skin, worse) when a strange, unfamiliar sound makes him look up and over at a flurry of sparks flying off two glowing rods. It is pretty, he decides, but scary and best observed from a distance.
But, there is no cover to be had. All around him is bright burning heat and dusty rock. He doesn't even know where it is safe to walk. He pushes himself to his feet, or tries to, and burns his hands.
"Here, let me help you," a kindly voice offers, holding out a hand to help him up. He notices the callouses of the hand first, because the hand is closest, and then looks up at a boy who looks to be a few years older than Ron is, himself. He has the gentlest, kindest smile, and the brightest blue eyes. Ron is not sure the boy is entirely human. He is wearing dingy, drab white clothes, and has longish blond hair, and quite a few strands of something green and growing wrapped all up and down his right arm. Ivy, maybe?
He takes the hand, dubious and mistrusting, because this is a stranger, and the matron says not to talk to strangers. They could kidnap you.
"You look lost," the boy says, pulling Ron to his feet. "How'd you get to be here, anyway?"
Ron knows he isn't supposed to, but he puts a thumb in his mouth to suck on it. He can surely be forgiven. The ground is hot.
He remembers the sparks and flashing light, and looks up and over to the source, only to find that everything has frozen in place—even the sparks. He can look without worrying about anyone catching him.
Two strange men hold long beams of light, currently crossed against each other. One of them wears pale robes like the boy. The other wears dark robes, almost black. One has reddish hair, like Ron's. The other dirty blond hair, like dark gold. That one has eyes an unnatural gleaming gold, his face twisted in a terrifying snarl that Ron instinctively draws back from. The other seems safer, but with such a look of sorrow and pain on his face that Ron has to look away from him, too.
Ron turns back to the boy, instead, and remembers he'd asked a question. Matron says he is rude when he doesn't answer questions, but he also isn't to talk to strangers.
The boy can't be too dangerous, though. He looks only a few years older than Ron.
"You're giving me that look, like this is all new and too much for you," the blond boy says, with a sigh and a frown. "Here."
He unwraps a strand of ivy from around his arm, and winds it around Ron's. His mind seems to clear. Thoughts come easier, and understanding. He feels, instinctively, that he can trust the boy.
"Dunno," he says, removing his thumb from his mouth, briefly, to squint sideways at the older boy. "I was going to bed, and then I was here."
"You must have some sort of connection with them, then," the boy says, turning to point at the two men. They are fighting, Ron realises. They are being violent, and bad, and trying to hurt one another. He can't understand why.
"I reached out to try to find someone who could help me figure out what's going on. Maybe that's you," Ron's companion continues. "Say, what's your name?"
Ron hesitates only a moment. "Aishi-Ron," he says. Straining, he thinks he remembers a family name. "Aishi-Ron Kryze," he amends.
His companion's eyes widen. "Kryze?" he asks. "I don't see what that—"
He visibly comes to a realisation. "Oh. Oh. Then—then that's your dad," he says, gazing wistfully over at the two figures frozen in time.
"My dad?" Ron repeats. He is at a complete loss. He has a dad, sometimes. But, he knows what he looks like, and it isn't anything like either of those two men. Dad is kind of short and squat, with bright red hair and glasses, and bags under his eyes 'cause he is always tired and his boss doesn't appreciate him.
Then again, Ron is here, in the middle of a molten wasteland, and he'd just been at the children's home before that. Sometimes, he's tried to tell adults about his mum and dad, but they accuse him of making up stories, and insist that magic doesn't exist. His dad doesn't seem to exist. It is confusing.
"Obi-wan Kenobi," the boy says, in a mournful tone. "I know him as Ben, the mad old hermit who lives in the Jundland Wastes. I think he's got a good reason to be crazy, but I don't think he is. And, he's fighting my dad. This must be just after he Fell."
People mention that they'd had fathers, killed in the war, and mothers. Ron has a subliminal sense, sometimes, that he is one of those. The man with reddish hair must be the dad whom he'd lost. Except…if the other boy is right, he didn't die at all. Why would he have abandoned Ron?
"Whaddaya mean, 'Fell'?" Ron asks. There is clearly a capital letter there.
"He turned to The Dark Side," the other says, as if that explains anything. "Come on, I'll need your help if I'm gonna figure out what went wrong, so we can fix it."
At a loss, Ron follows the boy across the suddenly non-blisteringly hot lava over to where the two figures still stand, stock still.
"I can restart time, see if we get any hints. I'll pull you sideways, out of step with time. They won't see you. In time, you'll learn to do it on your own."
Before Ron can ask what he means, time restarts. The urge to hide is overpowering, but the other boy sits on the non-hot molten rock and watches. He is in plain view, and neither combatant notices him. Ron sits next to him, and they watch.
It is a violent scene, not fit for someone of Ron's age. He knows the matron would disapprove, even though most of her children are war orphans who have witnessed some pretty gruesome things themselves.
They duel across a fiery arena of molten rock. Ron hears the man who is supposedly his father claim that the other man was supposed to be some sort of Chosen One, and destroy something called "the Sith". Then, he cuts off Ron's companion's father's limbs. And, leaves him to burn on the banks of a river of fire, walking away claiming to love him.
Ron decides that his family is pretty messed up, if his uncle is some sort of gold-eyed maniac and his own father cut off his uncle's limbs.
"Did you get anything from that?" Ron asks.
The other boy huffs. "No. At least, not much. I'll have to rewind time and see what happened before the duel. Only, I'm not quite sure how. You can help me focus. Just think hard about what you want, and reach out to The Force."
"The what?" Ron asks, and his newfound cousin closes his eyes.
"That's right. You won't have heard of it. I haven't heard of it, either. I'll just—guide you through this."
He becomes aware of a tugging sensation somewhere not on his body—in his mind?— and reaches out not with his hands, and pulls along with whatever it is, hoping it is his cousin.
His uncle's limbs reattach themselves and he flies back down to his lower platform. There is no sound, but the scene continues to rewind, pulling the two of them along without having to walk, following their fathers' steps, until they meet up with a spaceship, and "Obi-wan Kenobi" seems to sheathe his glowstick (in reality he is drawing it, in reverse).
"Maybe we can prevent their duel," Ron's cousin whispers unnecessarily.
"You can't change the past," Ron quotes sagaciously. His cousin quirks an eyebrow.
"Can't you? I'm going to try."
He continues to unspin time, just to have more context, until the spaceship takes off. Then, he makes a motion with his hand, and the pulling stops. Ron had ceased to notice it, at some point.
The spaceship seems to change its mind, heading back down to the surface again. A beautiful woman with long, curly brown hair, in an elaborate gown, steps off, coming down the ramp, and Ron's uncle comes and embraces her.
Ron thinks this seems like the sort of private conversation that children shouldn't eavesdrop on, and opens his mouth and turns to tell his cousin so, but then he notices the way the other boy is drinking the conversation in, drinking everything in, as if to memorise every detail about his parents. Ron understands that, sort of. But, he tries to tune out their conversation. It is too shameful to do otherwise.
He has no warning, therefore, when his father comes down the ramp, and then suddenly everything seems to change, and the universe darkens, and his uncle reaches out a hand at the woman, and she begins to choke. This is definitely not something a child should watch.
To make things worse, his idiot cousin seems to decide that this is his cue to try to stop things, rushing over to separate the two, crying, "No, stop! Don't hurt her, Father!"
And, apparently he's forgotten that he'd moved them out of step with time, or whatever.
Dad draws his weapon, and orders "Anakin" to release "Padmé", and the woman crumples to the ground.
"Maybe I can heal her—" Ron's cousin begins, seeming to realise that his attempts to stop the duel will do no good. Not that it matters, because just then, a girl appears by the spaceship, standing between Ron's cousin and his mother.
She seems to be about Ron's cousin's age, with long brown hair wound up in a coronet, and wearing a white dress, and the same golden eyes as their father. There is something dark and frightening about her, more than just the snarl on her face. Ron gulps, and reconsiders going over to ask how he can help heal his aunt.
"Oh, no! Stay back, Aishi-Ron," the boy says, going pale. "It's my sister. She's The Son—the Dark Side of the Force personified." Ron would have thought that he said "the sun", if the boy didn't continue. "I'm The Daughter. The Light Side of the Force personified. We're equals in power. She can't hurt me. Let me handle her. Stay over there."
"Wait, no, let me help you!" Ron cries, stumbling to follow his cousin ("The Daughter") as he spreads great white wings and soars over to land before the spaceship.
"Go away! You are not welcome here," The Son cries, in a discordant, sibilant voice. Ron shudders as he picks a haphazard way toward the confrontation. "You may not interfere. Father made his choice, and if it is not to your liking, you must still leave him to it. It is in his nature to be the Balance."
"This wasn't supposed to happen!" The Daughter protests. "He wasn't supposed to Fall. There was plenty of darkness for you before he Fell, and Palpatine rose to power. Now, there is almost no light left to me. There will always be darkness in the galaxy, but now it overwhelms everything, and threatens to destroy us all. And our mother! What of our mother?"
It might be a trick of the light about the lava, but Ron thinks The Son's eyes flicker for a moment towards a more human colouring. She hesitates, looking back and forth between The Daughter, and the woman who must be their mother.
"Don't you even want to just save her? Isn't it in the nature of The Dark to defy death? Help me heal her, Sister, please."
The Son sighs and The Daughter folds his wings until they disappear, kneeling down by Ron's aunt's side. The Son joins him in the pose as they stretch out their hands.
"It's nothing major—she should have survived this," The Son says, with a puzzled frown. She doesn't sound overtly hostile, so Ron dares to creep closer.
"We haven't been born, yet, either. I can feel our lives, still inside her," The Daughter says, looking up, and then turning to face Ron.
"Who is that?" The Son demands, whirling to face Ron, her attention fixed on him for the first time.
"I-I-I'm your-your c-cousin," Ron stammers. "Ron."
Her eyes narrow at him. He expects a forked tongue to flick around her lips, but it doesn't.
"Not Uncle Owen's," The Daughter clarifies, glancing over at his sister. "Ben's son."
"And, I suppose you want to save your parents, too," The Son snaps, placing her hands on her hips.
Ron blinks, because this possibility has never occurred to him. It hasn't had the chance. Besides, his dad lived…didn't he?
"Is it possible?" he asks hopefully.
The Son snorts. "Who knows?" she says in return. "But, since you're family…maybe we could try."
She sounds as if she is making a huge concession to him, even though the lives of two people can't be that big a deal in the broader scheme of things.
The Son holds out a pale white hand, and The Daughter takes it in his tanned one.
"Are you coming?" The Son snaps, and Ron flinches back from her. He turns to face The Daughter.
"It's okay," he reassures Ron. "Dark doesn't have to be evil, you know. There's good and bad aspects to both sides of The Force. She's willing to help with this—it's in her best interest, too."
Ron stretches out a hesitant hand to touch both of theirs and then suddenly they're standing in a room high above the ground, by a window overlooking a city with no visible ground. It's nighttime and two men are dueling each other with those bright glowsticks.
"Lightsabers," The Daughter whispers to him. "They're called lightsabers. That's Master Mace Windu," he continues, pointing to the dark man wielding a purple…lightsaber.
"And, that's the Emperor," The Son finishes, crossing her arms as she observes the scene. "Emperor Palpatine."
Ron glances at the old, cackling evil man with his red lightsaber, and then at The Son's fierce smile, and shudders. He can feel the evil pouring off The Emperor in waves.
Before he can make any move, even to step away from the window, the doors burst open. Palpatine is on his back, backing away from Master Windu, as if he hasn't just slaughtered these three also with lightsabers lying nearby. Ron's uncle enters the room, eyes wild, but decidedly unyellow. Instead they're the same striking blue as The Daughter's. Palpatine begs Anakin to save him, and Anakin visibly teeters on the brink.
Master Windu makes the mistake of saying that he's too dangerous to live, and insisting that Anakin help finish him off.
Anakin cuts off his hand, instead, and Palpatine shoves Master Windu out the window.
"What have I done?" Anakin asks, obviously distraught, and Palpatine strikes, taking advantage of this moment of weakness to ensure this man's loyalty.
To save Padmé, Anakin swears fealty to Palpatine.
The Son frowns. "But—she died," she protests. "That's why we were raised apart, in different families. Didn't he save her?"
"He must have broken his promise," The Daughter says, reaching out a hand for his sister. "He lied to Father."
"But then, the apprenticeship is built on a false contract! Under duress! He didn't—didn't really choose, did he?" The Son asks. Her eyes are a warm brown, suddenly like her mother's, and there is not even a glimmer of yellow, or fangs. She appears almost frantic as she looks to her brother, and to Ron.
"Then we'll fix this. We'll work to set things right, and bring balance to the Force, as our father, The Father, was meant to. Not in Darkness, not in Light. In Balance," The Daughter declares, turning to Ron. "Are you in, Ron?"
"We're trying to save your parents?" he asks, not quite sure he's keeping up.
It is The Son who replies,
"And yours, I suppose. We do owe you a bit of a favour, as we'll need your help for this to work. I think we can save your mother, anyway. We'd have to interfere with Maul on Mandalore, I suppose…."
"Count me in!" Ron says, eagerly.
The Son looks at him, as if she's just realised that something is off about him, and then catches sight of the length of vine wrapped around his arm.
"I'd say you've used about half of that. Okay, let's get going. Between the three of us, we should be able to pinpoint all four of the relevant people here. Obi-wan Kenobi, Satine Kryze, Padmé Amidala, and Anakin Skywalker. We'll save them all."
She sounds so determined, and so human, that Ron can't help staring. And, he realises that, whatever these two, his cousins, are, they're also human. Sometimes, they take off their ceremonial robes, and reveal the ordinary people underneath.
This is probably what enables them to work together.
This time, he doesn't hesitate when his cousins form a bridge of their hands, immediately slamming his own down on top of theirs, and they're off.