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Owen met his future wife one dark night at the swoop races. She’d just won her race, and her friend had tackled her off her bike, more friends gathering around her cheering and whooping as she pulled her helmet off. She had her hair in two braids, tied up low on the back of her head to keep them out of the helmet, and she was the most beautiful person Owen had ever seen.
()
Owen had never gone into town as often before as he did that year, taking the speeder almost every other day to visit Beru in the slave quarters with her adopted mother.
Beru Whitesun was rarely as vivid as she’d been high off the thrill of winning the swoop race, but Owen liked the shy, sly smile she gave him over the food he offered her every time he showed up hopefully at her door. Beru made the best cadril chili Owen had ever tasted, and Owen found himself searching the desert for cadril peppers he could get the seeds out of for the little corner of the hydroponics garden his father had given him to grow food just for himself.
“You really like this girl,” Owen’s father said, watching Owen look up instructions for how to grow Cadril peppers on the holonet.
And - Owen knew that Beru lived in the slave quarters, knew that Beru’s adopted mother was a slave. But. For the first month that didn’t matter. Beru was free. Beru was born free, no matter who her mother was now. For the first month it didn’t matter. Owen was just a boy, and Beru was just a girl, the both of them smiling and cautiously seeing where their friendship might go.
But then, a month into their relationship, there was the sound of stone on stone during dinner, and Owen looked over in time to see one of the floor tiles finish sliding to the side as someone pulled themself up, out of a hole in the floor.
“Gan-amu,” the little Twi’lek girl said, pushing herself to her feet and reaching for Shmi. “Gan-amu, Depur said he was going to put me up for auction tomorrow - Gan-amu I can’t -”
There was a blur of motion as Shmi reached for the child, and Beru stood, a look on her face that Owen didn’t recognize.
“Owen,” Beru’s adoptive mother said as Beru disappeared into the other room. “I’m sorry about this, but perhaps you should leave now. As you can see, Beru and I had something come up.”
“I can help,” Owen said, and for a moment he didn’t recognize his own voice. “Do you - is there anything you need? I can help.”
Shmi looked at him for a long moment before she nodded.
“Can you go to Shursu(1)? They’re ten houses down. Tell them we need them to bring their medkit.”
Owen felt another moment of unreality as it sunk in that he was really doing this. Then he nodded.
()
Owen and Beru talked about marriage long before it happened. They were both practical people, and Owen knew that communication was necessary for a good relationship.
Beru was frank with Owen that they might have trouble conceiving if he wanted biological children. She told him that five generations back, one of her ancestors was nameless. That they had the right features to be a Stolen Child from the Tusken tribes. That her family had . . . trouble conceiving children with those who hadn’t been slaves on Tatooine for generations.(2)
Owen was fine with that.
Owen and Beru talked about marriage.
“I want to,” Beru whispered to Owen in the dark. “But I can’t get married while my mother is not free. I can’t. Amu’s chip is - we can’t remove it without killing her. Not with the resources we have. It’s always a risk, but where Amu’s chip is . . .”
“Could she buy her way free?” Owen asked. “I could try to help you raise the money-”
“We have the money to free her. We’ve been saving since we found the location of her chip. But Watto won’t sell.”
“Would you mind if I tried?” Owen asked.
“. . . no.”
()
Owen started going to the bars and cantinas of Mos Espa. He worked out which ones Watto frequented, and made sure to be there when Watto was. Owen nursed his single mug of ardees long after Watto had gotten himself sloppily drunk, and listened.
()
“Um, sir,” Owen said, standing before Watto, exaggerating his nervousness clearly for the Toydarian to see. “I was wondering, for how much would you be willing to sell your slave? Shmi Skywalker? Only, my father’s fallen in love with her, and he wants to marry her.”
Owen watched through his lashes as Watto’s expression changed and softened slightly. Owen made sure not to smile. That would give the game away.
()
It took time for Shmi to redistribute her responsibilities, but not as much time as Owen would have thought. Beru had laughed at him.
“Sometimes we are sold away quickly or without the chance to say goodbye. If she had needed to, amu could have left without word or notice, and the community would have carried on.”
Shmi’s son Kitster has grinned at Owen from across the table. “I think she’s drawing it out to see how long she can get away with it before you protest,” he said to Beru. “Everyone knows you don’t want to get married until she’s out.”
Owen’s father(3) was quiet as he watched Shmi’s children talk and celebrate.
()
Owen was the one who grew their food and did the cooking as his father got older.
Beru, Owen’s wife , still made the best cadril chile he’d ever tasted, but she was better at fixing the vaporators than he was.
And Owen liked the smell of wet dirt, task of checking nutrient levels and harvesting what was ready to eat. Owen liked giving all of his wife and her mother’s guests something filling to eat after the ordeal they had gone through.
Owen’s wife had a beautiful singing voice, but she rarely used it.
Owen’s wife made him a rich sweet tea and kissed his cheek when she got up before him in the morning.
Owen was in love.
()
The Tuskens came just before dawn, and . . .
Owen had become more and more aware, over the years, of just how different he was from his father. But the way his father’s eyes went hard, the way he’d hollered and pulled out his shotgun?
Owen stepped between his wife and his father. He asked his wife, quietly, not to treat his father’s leg, and they both watched as the doctor at Mos Espa pronounced it a lost cause and amputated it. Owen tried to make sure his wife was never alone in a room with his father.
When Shmi’s child Anakin came looking for her, it was hard for Owen to look at them.
What was Owen supposed to say? He’d thought his home was safe for his wife. He’d thought his home was safe.
“Your mother’s dead, son,” Owen’s father told Shmi’s child. “Accept it.”
“I’m going with you,” Beru said before Anakin had a chance to reply.
There was a moment where Anakin looked at her, and Owen was scared. But Beru just looked at them, and the moment passed.
Agonized, Anakin asked, “ Why ?”
“You are my mother’s child,” said Beru, and she did not look at Owen, or at Cleigg. “You are my mother’s child, going to find our mother. She has been caught up in a fight that is not hers. If she is gone, then I would know, that I might honor her. And I would not have you find out alone.”
Anakin bowed their head.
When they lifted it, the frantic energy was gone. They nodded once, and turned on their heel.
()
“Come back to me,” Owen said, holding his wife tight. He didn’t make her promise to stay safe.
Behind him, Shmi’s child was talking with the woman they’d brought with them. Owen couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“Oh, akki(4),” Beru said, reaching up to cup Owen’s face between her hands as she smiled. “I will do my best.”
She pulled away and leaned down to pick up her med kit, then she walked over to the speeder bike. Her mother’s child helped her tie the medkit to the back, and then she mounted the bike behind them.
()
Owen called over Kitster Banai while his wife and her mother’s child were away.
Kitster blew in like a storm, greeting Anakin’s friend and heckling Cleigg before letting Owen pull him aside to talk to him in a low voice about his father.
(His father . But Owen loved his wife.
And Cleigg must not have been listening much to Shmi, because he would have found a way to kill her sooner -
Owen loved his wife, and he remembered the talk they had before they married, about who Beru was descended from.)
Kitster nodded quietly when Owen was done, and put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll take care of it.”
()
The sun rose. Owen made food for everyone, and left a pot of soup covered on the backburner. Anakin’s friend was grateful for the soup, and Kitster teased Owen that he was getting good with Shmi’s spice mixes. Cleigg didn’t show up to eat.
Owen made his morning rounds, then took two mugs of Beru’s tzai out to sit with Anakin’s friend as they waited.
“It’s so different here,” Padme said eventually, holding the cup of tzai close. “Every time I return, I feel like I learn something new about the galaxy. Something bad.”
Owen glanced over at her. “You’re that handmaiden girl who was there when the Jedi took Anakin, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you only end up on Tatooine because your planet got invaded, and none of your core people were helping?”
Padme looked startled for a moment. Then she laughed. “You’re right! Of course, you’re right. I was fourteen and full of idealism.”
At that moment there was the distant sound of a horn, and Padme and Owen both looked up to see a shadow emerge over the horizon.
Flying across the sand before the shadow were Anakin and Beru on the speederbike they rode out on.
Owen started to his feet, his heart in his mouth at the sight of the Tusken tribe coming towards the moisture farm. He believed in his wife and his wife’s mother, but after the attack, his nerves were shot. He wasn’t sure if he should get Padme back inside and safe, or if he should welcome the coming Tuskens, and indecision glued his feet to the ground.
Anakin and Beru slid to a flashy stop, and Beru threw herself off the back of the speeder bike with a bright grin that made Owen relax as she threw herself at him.
“Owen! Amu’s alright! And she made some friends!(5)”
“I’m glad,” Owen said, holding her close. “Your brother arrived last night, just in case you needed help.”
“Your brother?” Anakin asked, their head snapping around to stare at Beru, the expression on their face painfully vulnerable.
“Your brother too, if you would still claim him,” Beru said, turning in Owen’s arms to look at her mother’s child.
“I-” Anakin said, agonized.
The shadow in the distance had moved close enough now that Owen could see the outlines of individual Sand People riding their bantha.
The horn sounded again. When Owen shaded his eyes against the sun, he was able to make out Shmi, waving from the leading bantha. The horn sounded a third time, and the Bantha abruptly sped up, racing ahead of the other banthas at a speed Owen had never seen a bantha at before.
The bantha slowed to a stop before the homestead, and Shmi slid down its side. Her face lit up as she glanced past the group standing before the house.
“Kitster!”
“Amu!” Kitster pushed past Owen and fell into Shmi’s open arms. “Amu, you’re okay! I was so worried when Owen called me.”
“ Owen called you?” Shmi asked, but she sounded amused as she let Kitster pull back.
“Kitster,” Anakin said, still sounding agonized.
Owen saw the way Kitster stiffened. Kitster gently extracted himself from Shmi’s embrace and turned to look at Anakin.
“Ani. You . . .”
The Tusken on the bantha that Shmi rode on said something that sounded vaguely like the language Shmi and her children and her people spoke, making everyone look up.
Shmi nodded and turned to Owen. “Owen. I’m sorry, but your father . . .”
“Cleigg Lars is dead,” Kitster said, turning to Owen. “That’s actually why I came up. I thought it was odd that he didn’t come out for breakfast, so I went to check on him, and. He must not have been taking good care of his stump. He wasn’t breathing when I went in.” Kitster reached out, then dropped his hand. “I didn’t - I didn’t have to do anything.”
And Owen -
A tightness Owen hadn’t even recognized within himself relaxed abruptly.
“That’s - I’m glad.”
“Oh, akki,” Beru said, turning in Owen’s arms, and Owen let her pull him down and hide his face against her neck.
Owen’s shoulders shook, and his eyes felt like they were burning, but no tears fell. He let the conversation around him wash past like wind in the deep canyons.
()
“Oh kark,” Anakin said abruptly, interrupting the conversations going on around the dinner table as they stared down at their com.
“What is it?” Shmi asked them.
“Padme, Obi-wan found out who was behind the assassination attempts,” Anakin said, looking up. “It was the Trade Federation again. But Artoo says he got attacked while he was reporting, and that his long range transmitter got knocked out while he was on - Geonosis?” Anakin stood, running their free hand through their hair. “I need to contact the council. I need to-”
“We have a long range transmitter. Beru take Anakin to it please,” Shmi said immediately.
Beru nodded sharply as she stood, Anakin following her out of the room quickly.
Padme frowned after him. “If Master Kenobi’s on Geonosis . . . even if they send someone right away, they’ll never make it in time.”
Shmi frowned, tapping one finger on the table in front of her. “I sent my child away with the Jedi because I thought that they might be free with them, that they might have a better life. And yet they have returned to me after years of no contact with their heart troubled, their eyes veiled, and the word master still on their lips.”
“Master Kenobi - Obi-wan . . .” Padme said slowly, “has been kind to me every time we meet. He has flaws as every human does, and . . . I don’t think he was the best teacher the Jedi could have given Anakin. But Master Jinn - Qui-gon Jinn, the Jedi Master who won Anakin at the race - died. And the way it was told to me, Obi-wan was the only Jedi teacher who would take Anakin.”
Padme grimaced.
“I would have taken Anakin into my household had there been no Jedi who would take responsibility for Anakin. I - I have the privilege to provide for him. But Anakin was set on becoming a Jedi. It was what he thought you wanted.”
Shmi nodded slowly. “Anakin is going to want to go to him,” she said.
“I’ll go with them,” Kitster said.
“I need to -”
“You,” Shmi said, pinning Padme down with a sharp look, “will not be going to a planet where the people trying to assassinate you are.”
Shmi waited for Padme to nod before she looked at Kitster. “Are you sure?”
Kitster nodded. “They’re still my sibling.”
“I’ll help you pack,” Owen said.
By the time Anakin came back, agony written over their face at the choice they would have to make, Shmi had everything neatly arranged, and Kitster was shouldering the pack Owen had put together for him.
“What?” Anakin asked uncomprehendingly after a quick explanation.
“You are going to save that teacher of yours, and bring him back to me,” Shmi said firmly. “Kitster is going to help you, and the rest of us will protect your friend.”
“But - I’m supposed to protect Padme,” Anakin said weakly.
“Oh Ani,” Padme said, reaching up to cup their cheeks. “Are you really going to just sit here with me and let him die? He’s your friend, your mentor . . .”
“He’s like my father,” Anakin whispered, squeezing their eyes shut.
“Then go,” Padme said firmly. “I will be safe here.” She paused. “And if you don’t go on your own, I’ll go to rescue him. What’s safer for me?”
Anakin laughed a little and opened their eyes, one hand coming up to cover the hand Padme had on his cheek. “Okay. I’ll go.”
()
Anakin came back days later, short one arm. They brought back Kitster, their teacher, and news of a galactic civil war.
They brought back news of millions of slaves.