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unfinishedslurs · 3 months

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The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #luke skywalker #han solo #leia organa #imperial luke skywalker #exactly when luke was taken by the empire is totally up to speculation it could honestly be anywhere from newborn to 5 #as for why luke has his dad’s blue lightsaber here instead of like a red one or smth- well you see your honor I thought it would be a slay #but also when you think about it for more than 5 seconds you’re like actually yeah that’s sick and twisted of palpatine and vader actually #you’re carrying your fathers most treasured weapon #you don’t know your father once fought the rise of the very empire you stand to inherit with that blade. you don’t know who he defended #you don’t know your father brought about the end of the republic with that same weapon #he killed the younglings with it. he fought his closest companion with it #you’re carrying what was once your fathers most treasured weapon. you are your fathers most treasured weapon #just as your father is a weapon now #also I didn’t make it clear but obi-wan has his ‘strike me down and I become stronger’ moment like he still dies on purpose to cause proble #but when he saw luke he couldn’t look away. he had to see him with living eyes one last time #can u tell I had So Many Thoughts on everyone else’s perspective in this fic too #han is having a constant crisis in the background because 1) force is real 2) princess is annoying AND pretty which sucks for him #in particular and 3) pretty princess is learning to use the force and is hot while doing it. Chewie is laughing at him. life is hell #good lord did not mean to put an entire essay in the tags. i love their super special twin powers (cosmic entity that binds their souls)#edit: GUYS I FORGOT TO NAME THE FUCKING AU #AND WHEN I TRY AND FIX IT IT GLITCHES OUT ON MEEE 😭😭😭

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monpalace · 1 year

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LEGEND

Legend is reasonable, he’d consider, just not when he's presented with (almost) constant questions and concerns regarding his relationship status with his closest friend.

Any question along the lines of “so when’d you two start dating,” are quickly met with a snappy response with little second thought. “I saw you with your significant other not too long ago,” and any further ramblings are quickly put to an end when he sends a withering gaze their way.

At some point, Legend becomes tired of comments regarding his relationship with you. If it weren't for his aversion to dark magic, he’d drown himself in a curse of some sort that stopped any related questions entirely.

He’s never turned down acts of reassurance from your side. Whether they are words of affirmation or acts of affection, he never fails to be less inconvenienced about the event when you intervene.

Legend tends to hold his sharp tongue when you're around. He’s never rude to you, or (sometimes) to the other Links, when you're around because he always wants to be a better version of himself when you're around.

That doesn't mean he's good at biting his tongue.

He’s very much susceptible to rolling his eyes, groaning, and telling someone to shut up with a scoff. Legend might wind it down even further with a “please leave us alone,” or “can you just drop it,” if you don't seem pleased by his responses.

Despite his very obvious annoyance when it comes to misinterpretations of his relationship, Legend is quick to dispel any doubts you may have in your mind.

“Would you rather I tone down on the affection? I—” Absolutely not. You’re the only person he feels comfortable with when it comes to anything tactile; he's so used to it now, he’d rather die than lose it all because of some stupid rumor.

“Maybe we shouldn't share food or drinks anymore. It sends the wrong idea.” Okay? Who cares about an indirect kiss? What even is it? You either kiss or you don't. Besides, you have food that he wants to steal (or, he has food he wants you to try), where's the issue with that? Is sharing not caring?

One way or another, Legend is one of the less tolerant Links when it comes to his platonic relationship being taken the wrong way, only being rivaled by Wind and Four’s Blue.

“My Great Goddesses,” Legend groans under his breath. He folds his hands on the side of his temple, the beginnings of a headache working its way into his mind the longer he (forcibly) hears the group of older women coo over his supposed relationship. “Make them stop.”

A swift kick under the tavern table makes Legend’s complaints come to an end. The sharp glance you sent him reels him back in like a dog on a leash.

“Sorry,” he mutters just barely under his breath.

You laugh quietly, just barely audible over the afternoon rush. “I was trying to tell you to go after them,” you hum in an equally low voice. “I’m honestly a little tired of it too.”

“Seriously?”

“Naturally.”

There's a giddy feeling that fills Legend as he stands. It might have been the slight buzz that came with his drinks, or the more natural feeling that was released when he realized he wouldn't have to be nice anymore, but the feeling is there nevertheless.

“Will you cover my part of the bill if I manage to do it without making them leave?”

“Half.”

“Three-quarters.”

“Twenty-five percent.”

“You don’t love me anymore?”

Taking out your wallet, you shake your head at his antics while putting rupees on the table. “You forget the last time you pulled something like this; but I do love you, yes.”

“I love you too, then,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek with a pat on your arm. “I’ll be sure to pay you back— eventually.”

TWILIGHT

This is not the first time he's been in a situation like this, shockingly. He and Ilia went through this same scenario with the villagers of Ordon, but it's the same twenty people with the same two rumors, so everything was squashed between them rather quickly.

But this isn't Ordon. It’s not the same twenty people; it’s everyone in different eras revolving endlessly.

Yet, Twilight doesn't mind.

Every question and comment is easily passed off with “oh, we’re just friends,” or “oh, no! I don’t see them that way,” with a light laugh.

Tactile responses such as hugs, kisses (to the forehead, cheek, hand, wrist), and hand holding are natural to Twilight. He never oversteps his boundaries (whether they're set or not), so his old habits are always fitted for them.

Being called your boyfriend be damned, Twilight is clingy. He's a wolf at heart, so being around those he considers to be a part of his clan. He gently pulls you out of the way from oncoming carriages with an arm around your waist, rests his chin on your shoulder or head while listening to whatever you’re rambling on about, and presses a kiss on your cheek in greeting and goodbye— but it's still strictly platonic.

Twilight holds more than enough respect to shut down anything like “I bet your wedding will be so beautiful,” and “your children will be the prettiest,” for the both of you. “We already agreed we’d be each other's mate of honor,” and “I already told them they’d be the godparent for my kids if I have any,” are almost always his responses.

Unlike Legend, Twilight genuinely finds it amusing everytime someone gets the wrong idea. He finds it easy to joke about when the person is gone or hours after the fact, but he will stop if he finds you don't find it as funny as him.

If, on the off-chance, you both visit Ordon (assuming you aren't from there), more rumors would pop up once more. Are you another Ilia? How long have you known Link? Do you treat him well, at least? Is that a ring on your finger? Are you wearing his pelt? When's the wedding?

Twilight is quicker to cut those off at the source before they spiral. No, he's known you as a friend for a long while (at least to him) and you’ve just so happened to grow close, he’d like to think you do, it's a family heirloom, and you just wanted to see the appeal in why he wore it all the time— now, please. Stop.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s not?”

“No..”

“Yeah, alright.”

Twilight hides from the barely cracked door, hands cupped over the lower half of his face to muffle his laughter.

He can understand where the inn owner might have gotten the idea that the two of you were an item.

Upon first entering the establishment, he was pushing himself against you as though you shared the same body (the result of paranoia following a run-in with a particularly strong group of poes). He had insisted you get one room instead of two before you claimed one bed was fine when told there was no room available with two.

He supposes the final nail in the coffin would’ve been when he dropped his wallet on the counter when you started rummaging to get out your own, dragging you up their stairs once the key was dropped into his hand.

Twilight can see the beginnings of your laughter work its way through your body and face as you close the door. The owner’s inconvenienced “try not to be too loud; I’d like to not lose any more customers because of pairs like you,” rattling around in your minds when he stopped by to return Twilight's large pouch.

“It’s still not funny,” you say, trying to steal yourself as you stumble back to the bed. “It— it won’t. It’s mean.”

Denial and the urge to be the bigger person was slowly diminishing within you. It was undeniable.

Twilight joins you on the bed, shifting and ignoring the burning pain from his scrapes as you both become comfortable. The cramping he’d feel during the night was inevitable, but he could withstand it knowing he was right.

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