#esb au

[alexversenaberrie]

"This lightsaber belonged to Anakin... to me..."

[25centsoda]

Whumptober 2023 Day 2-3

Did I make a day 2 post?? I don't think I made a day 2 post. Days 2 and 3 were posted during my lunch break

Day 2: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50507914

Bacta Blues

Summary:

The Battle of Hoth arrives without warning, and the Rebels leave some things behind in their hurried escape…

Vader came back to himself and realized that he had a gloved hand on the tank.

The young man noticed a moment later.

Hazy, half-lidded eyes—yes, blue—blearily fixed themselves in his direction. The—Luke’s head lolled in the bacta as he examined Vader back.

Day 3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50539348

Run For Cover (There Is None)

Summary:

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.” Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.” Days ago, Luke was captured. He’s been at the Emperor’s feet, chained and blinded, since.

Footsteps approached, loud and echoing. It must have been a grand chamber he was sitting in, but Luke couldn’t see it. He felt hot. He wanted to claw the mask off. If he tried, though, as he’d naively tried the first day to remove it with cautious hands, he would get electrocuted. Luke kept himself still.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

What if Vader had remembered in Cloud City the way he felt when he first learned Luke was alive? (Long post, plus illustration)

“You are beaten! It is useless to resist!” Vader held his lightsaber low, nearly in Luke’s face. Surely, surely the boy would not persist?

But no, he knew the look in Luke’s eyes. Under the terror, the exhaustion, there was a stubborn determination lurking.

Just like- 

“Don’t let yourself be destroyed as Obi-wan did.”

But would he? Whatever had possessed his former master to stand still and await death, had he taught it to the boy?

Just the thought of it enraged him. No! He would not accept that. He had come too far to leave without his son. The Dark Side scraped across his nerves, feeding on his apprehension, stoking the fires of his anger. The boy was just stubborn. 

Just like me-

There was no reason for him to keep fighting! His friends had escaped, he was clearly outmatched, and yet he persisted. There was a faint whisper at the back of Vader’s mind that Luke fought so desperately because he thought that he had to. But the greedy hiss of the darkness drowned it out.

Luke’s energy was flagging, but he rallied, and batted away Vader’s lightsaber with an impressive strength in his swing. For someone with absolutely no formal training, Luke had a power to his stance, and even to his clumsy parries and thrusts, that was gratifyingly intimidating. He was going to be a force to be reckoned with one day. 

Provided he just stopped resisting.

The blades sparked and hissed against each other in a brilliant flash of light, then Luke ducked another lunge. This was beginning to grow tiresome. Their time was growing ever shorter, and the emperor would not accept another excuse. When the boy lashed out and caught Vader with a glancing blow to the shoulder, his fury overtook him. Again and again he slashed at that blasted blue blade, that insidious reminder of a man who was dead- a life that no longer existed- until he could feel Luke’s muscles trembling under the strain.

With a particularly vicious momentum, he swung-

And the boy screamed.

His hand-

His hand was-

The lightsaber -- his lightsaber -- tumbled down into the empty shaft below. Luke fell to his knees, clutching the stump of his right wrist. His face was twisted in pain.

Darth Vader had not had a right hand of flesh and blood for longer than Luke Skywalker had been alive. And yet, for a brief instant, he swore that it was his wrist that burned, that it was his scorched flesh that he could smell, in spite of the mask’s filters. 

Look! The Force suddenly clawed at his mind, denying him the chance to retreat into the comfort of his rage. Look at what you have wrought. 

Luke was so…

Small. 

He was so small, there on the ground. Huddled. Was he trying to present a smaller target? Or bracing for a killing blow? 

“He is just a boy.” 

His own words rang mockingly in his ears.

“Just a boy…” Darth Vader said aloud.

As if the revelation had only just hit him, he stumbled back a step. “You’re just a boy.” 

Luke looked up slowly, inching backward. The fear rolled off him in waves, shimmering like heat. He was confused, and disoriented, and very close to shock.

“I’m-”

What was he to say? What was there to be said?

“Ani...something wonderful has happened.”

Had he been so prepared to maim when he’d first learned the boy’s name? Or was his desperation fueled by the emperor’s recent discovery of Luke’s survival?

“This is the happiest day of my life.” 

Would that naive boy have said the same thing if he had known that only twenty-two years later he would be staring down at the bloodied, beaten form of his own terrified child? That he would be the one responsible for the pain in his eyes?

How had it been twenty-two years?

How had it only been twenty-two years?

“My boy…”

The words fled his heart before he could stop them.

Luke’s eyes widened, and he pulled farther away. Too close to the edge.

“M’not your boy,” he rasped harshly.

But Vader barely heard him. Slowly, so slowly he knelt, lightsaber falling from his slack hand. The hilt bounced once, and deactivated with a snapping hiss. One inch higher, and he very well could have killed the boy. His boy.

“I…”

Vader had never been a conversationalist. He certainly wasn’t going to start now. But Luke seemed to have finally noticed that something was wrong.

“I’m…”

Hot shame began to burn in his gut, just a twinge at first, building into a bonfire. 

“Something wonderful has-” 

“I could have killed you,” he breathed. “I almost killed you.”

Confusion tinted Luke’s eyes, swimming with pain. “What are you talking about?” he asked with as much suspicion as he could muster.

It wasn’t supposed to go this far. He was supposed to have trapped Luke in carbonite -- spirited him away to the old fortress on Vjun his master had forgotten about when the castle on Mustafar was built. He was supposed to have released Luke there, and broken it to him more gradually that he had been lied to.

It wasn’t supposed to go this far.

Sith Lords did not regret.

But Darth Vader did.

“The only good thing I ever put into this universe,” Vader marveled, a thread of emotion coloring his fearsome baritone, “And I almost killed him.”

Carefully, almost reverently, he reached out. His hand dwarfed the boy’s face as he lifted his chin. “My boy…”

Luke’s head jerked back. “You...you’re crazy!” he gasped. “You didn’t- you killed him! Obi-wan told me. My father was Anakin Skywalker!”

The gentle grip on his face shifted, and then without warning he was pulled forward. He cried out in both fear and indignation as Vader wrapped his arms around him.

“Yes,” the Sith murmured, “I was.”

The words registered slowly. Piece by piece, syllable by syllable, they marched mercilessly into Luke’s heart. He wanted to scream, to close his ears to it. But the Force detected no lie.

A hand covered the back of Luke’s skull, pressing him against Vader’s tabard and breastplate. Vader was…

Vader was trembling.

Luke could feel it now. Vader was trembling. 

“Luke,” his enemy murmured, almost too low to be heard over the wind. “Oh, my son. I almost killed you. So many times, I almost killed you and I never even knew-”

He drew back enough to allow him to look more closely at the boy. Horror was etched across his features. The truth was beginning to sink in.

“Obi-wan told me you killed my father,” Luke whispered in a meaningless denial.

“Obi-wan lied,” Vader answered.

Luke shook his head wildly. “No!”

Vader caught hold of his face between his fingers again. “Obi-wan. Lied.”

He brushed away a tear that was beginning to slide down the boy’s cheek.

“Oh Luke…”

Luke went limp.

[politicalpadme]

Chapters: 4/4 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Cassian Andor/Leia Organa, Han Solo/Hera Syndulla Characters: Cassian Andor, Leia Organa, Jyn Erso, Hera Syndulla, Han Solo, Chopper, Lando Calrissian, Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader, Additional Characters in Minor Roles, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Force Visions, Psychological Trauma, Everyone in Star Wars needs therapy Summary:

A story of survivors.

All That Remains

[lajulie24]

Decisions

This is part 4 of the Bespin/ESB AU I seem to be writing now (???). Han and Leia have escaped Bespin before Breakfast with Vader, managed to jump to a moon in the Monsua Nebula without Imperial detection, and are now beginning to face the tough “what now” decisions together. Meanwhile, Luke is still worried about them... You can read the earlier segments of this here: (Part 1 - I know) (Part 2 - Jump) (Part 3 - Visions of the future)

Han did not want to be fighting with Leia again. Especially on what they’d agreed would be their last day on the moon in the Monsua Nebula.

To be fair, they weren’t fighting, exactly, not the way they had before. Nobody was denying feelings; nobody was calling each other names; nobody was putting up a false front to avoid the pain of leaving, or being left. Their secrets had been laid bare; their love for each other was clear.

They even agreed on most of the facts of their situation. There was just one critical point that had them at odds.

“Fuck, no,” Han said. “You’re not comin’ to Jabba’s. No.”

Leia’s eyes narrowed. “Since when do you get to decide? You’re going to need backup if you’re getting out of there alive.” She folded her arms. “And you’re getting out of there alive.”

Was it weird that he loved her more when she was this stubborn? But half the point of him going to pay off Jabba was to keep Han from endangering Leia more than he already had. There were no guarantees as to whether he’d make it off Tatooine with his life this time; it was bad enough already that Chewie insisted on being dragged into this.

Han breathed in deeply, then lowered his voice. “Leia.”

Her posture was still closed off, the way it had always been when they’d fought before, but her eyes were different. The unreadable sheen they’d had before, especially in the last days of Hoth—I don’t care, I don’t care, they’d insisted to him in the frozen hallways, in the medbay—was gone. And he recognized that warmth and fire they held now. He’d seen this look countless times running missions with her: come the nine hells, Leia Organa was going to get what she’d come for. Only now, he was her mission objective.

Damn it. This is why running away had been so much easier in the past. It didn’t feel better, exactly, but it made the decision for you. And if the being you’d left hated you for it, so what? You’d earned it.

“Sweetheart,” he began again. “This is my fuck up. I gotta be the one to take care of it.”

She didn’t break a smile, but her face softened a little as she shook her head. “If you’d paid him off after Yavin, you wouldn’t be in this mess. And I’d be dead four times over, at least.” Her chin was jutting out slightly, another hallmark of Leia digging in her heels.

Okay, kriff everything, I love this woman. He wasn’t going to win this argument, not today. But the thought of what Jabba might do to her—he couldn’t let her sign on to this. How were they going to get past this, decide how to go forward?

I basically have another life debt on my hands flitted through the back of his head, and that made him recall one of Chewie’s past admonitions.

He and Chewie had been arguing one time, when Han had flatly refused to admit that anything but “steady work” was tying them to the Rebellion but had made a private deal with Rieekan to work for ship parts until the cash flow situation improved. Just admit what you want, Chewie had urged him, and after he’d denied wanting anything, Chewie had ended the discussion with a simple phrase. Just remember, Cub, not deciding is also a decision.

Not deciding up to this point had probably made his problem worse, and they couldn’t stall forever, but they didn’t need to go directly to Tatooine. Han’s odds would be even worse than usual if he rolled up to Jabba’s without a plan, anyway. Between Han, Chewie, and Leia—hells, maybe kriffing Goldenrod could help, even—they could come up with a strategy for getting into Jabba’s and getting back out alive. And speaking of Chewie, Han owed him big time….

Han decided not to decide.

“All right,” he said to Leia. “Not gonna convince you.”

There was her smile, as Leia shook her head.

“’M not sayin’ yes,” he warned.

“But you’re not saying no?” she asked, her eyebrows quirking up a bit.

Han laughed softly, in spite of himself. He was never going to get the best of this woman, that was for sure. “I need you to help with a plan. And Chewie deserves a trip home before this mess.” He grinned. “Ever been to Kashyyk?”

Leia unfolded her arms, and the fire in her eyes flickered with warmth. “Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, Captain,” she said.

Much better way to end an argument, Han thought, as he kissed her.

Luke was at a fueling station on a tiny moon in the Senex-Juvex sector, trying to decide what to do next. Fifty clicks from the middle of nowhere, he could picture Han saying, and he smiled.

Ben had been right about one thing: Luke had this power, had tapped into the energy of the Force, but he was still struggling to figure out how best to control it. He’d reached out on the way to Bespin, hoping he would arrive in time to prevent their pain, save them from the visions he’d seen, and had confirmed that not only had Han and Leia’s fate changed without his intervention, Luke’s arrival would have dire consequences for them.

It was maddening, though; he had nothing concrete, just this undeniable feeling that he could not go to Bespin, or things would be worse. He’d pulled the ship out of hyperspace, endured an impressive amount of cursing in binary from R2 (he was unsure of the meaning of some of the names he was being called, but he knew none of them were complimentary), and managed to steer through the edge of an asteroid belt while he had R2 figure out where in the galaxy they were. There had been even more excitement as he realized he’d narrowly avoided jumping right into the Dolla system, home of an Imperial navy installation, but after a little more cursing from R2 they’d found this fuel stop.

He could try to make his way to the Alliance rendezvous and hope they would be pleasantly surprised at his arrival rather than ready to court-martial him. Although it had been almost seven weeks since the Hoth evacuation, so the odds that they were maintaining the rendezvous at the same coordinates were not great. He could return to Dagobah, let Yoda curse him for a while instead of R2, try to complete his training.

R2’s question jolted him out of his thoughts. [Where is our next destination before you deviate our course into the nearest supernova?]

Luke laughed and patted his dome affectionately, Han’s voice in his head again. Flying through hyperspace ain’t like dustin’ crops, Kid.

Then he thought of something. Han and Chewie were really leaving this time, going to pay off Jabba, and they’d definitely taken the Falcon off Hoth; he’d seen them lift off. But Leia was supposed to be with the Alliance, headed toward the rendezvous point on one of the transports. How had she ended up with them?

Luke sighed. He couldn’t go back to the Alliance or back to Dagobah until he saw for himself that Han and Leia were all right.

He reached out again. They were all right for now, happy, even. And he had a sense of where to find them.

“R2,” he said, “set a course for the Monsua Nebula.”

[dameronalone]

a part of an ESB AU with the sequel kids that have been bouncing around for a while with Poe as Leia, Rey as Han, and Finn as Luke.

got no idea what to call it -  am open to suggestions

Rey glanced over at Poe, who was watching her from where he leaned over the shoulder of some officer.

“Guess this is goodbye,” Rey offered. Poe nodded, not really betraying anything, except the vague sense of betrayal.

“Guess so,” he said shortly. Oh, really, that’s all she gets? If she were Finn, Poe would be on his knees begging him to stay. God, what was she expecting?

“Well, don’t get all mushy on me, Princess. So long!” she snapped, storming out. She was childishly pleased to hear Poe shouting her name and scrambling after her.

“Rey!”

Rey stopped, and turned to him with a sardonic grin.

“Yes, Your Highnessness?”

“I thought you were staying?” His demand was clearly implied. Why are you going? 

“Those bounty hunters on Ord Mantell changed my mind,” Rey explained shortly.

“Oh, come on, Rey, we need you!” Poe said, catching her coat sleeve when she tried to walk away.

Rey pulled out of his grasp and raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, we need? What about you need?”

Poe stood there looking confused. “I need? I don’t know what your talking about?”

Rey gave a sharp laugh and spun on her heel.

“You are a terrible liar, Princess.”

She left Poe gaping behind her, before he caught up with her, and caught her arm again.

“What is it you want from me, Solo?” he demanded. Rey stuck her chin up.

“I want you to be honest!”

Poe frowned.

“I am honest,” he argued, like it was an affront to his “poster boy of the Rebellion” thing he had going on. Rey barked a laugh.

“I want you to be honest to yourself -” she poked him in the chest - “and to me.”

Poe grabbed her hand.

“I am honest,” he said again, like he was trying to convince her, or maybe himself. Rey jerked her hand out of his grip.

“I don’t even know why I bother,” she muttered loud enough for him to hear as she stormed off again.

“Neither do I!” chased her down the icy hallways, and wouldn’t leave her alone. Rey kicked a crate in her way. 

“Fuck you, Dameron.”

[anghraine]

7 and 27?

7) Longest completed fic you wrote this year?

Oh, interesting. Turns out it’s the words are all escaping from just this month, the latest in the script AU. (I’m not sure if stand-alone fics in an ongoing series count, though; the next would be the ghosts that survive, which shares continuity with a wider AU but isn’t really part of a series per se.)

27) Favourite fanfic author of the year?

Okay, it’s hard to pick just one, but probably @incognitajones.

[organanation]

While I am firmly in the camp of “First kiss is the ESB one we see” it’s still fun to fool around with some ESB AU situations. This is a little angsty BUT IT RESOLVES I promise.

No beta, no read through. I might come back to this when I am actually conscious but probs not.

Han could hear her screaming from just out of sight, calling for him.

“Leia!” he yelled.

“Help me, please!”

Han stumbled around somehow feeling both sluggish and full of adrenaline. She was in the corner, curled into a tiny ball and looking around at everything with wide, terrified eyes.

“It’s okay, Leia,” he tried to say, the words somehow not making it past his throat. He couldn’t cross the last few feet of floor to reach her.

Some sort of warning siren was screaming overhead and something was clanging against the metal door.

“Han! Don’t let them in, don’t let them in!” she yelled. He was torn between running to the door to fend off whoever was on the other side, and running to Leia to hold her, calm her, protect her.

  “Leia, it’s okay, it’s alright, Leia, Leia,” Han soothed wildly, facing the door, trying to prepare himself for whatever was about to burst through.

[Cub, Cub! Wake up!] Rough Wookie paws shook him awake and Han sat up in bed, fighting against them.

“Get back! No, not Leia!” Han hollered flapping his arms.

[Cub, calm down! The little one isn’t here.] Chewie dropped Han back into his bed, snapping on the overhead lights. [Can you please try to keep it down when you have your mating dreams?] he requested, an annoyed look resting on his face.

“Mating—Chewie, she’s not okay! She’s…scared, or hurt or—” Han’s feet were tangled in the sheet and he fell out of the bed in his rush to get out. “I’ve gotta—gotta find her,” Han exclaimed, scrambling to his feet.

[It’s alright, Cub. The little one is fine. It was just a bad dream,] he said.

“A dream. Right,” Han muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Just…a dream. Not real.”

[Go back to sleep,] Chewie recommended, [and no mating dreams.] Han fumbled back into bed as Chewbacca left, catching the lights and shutting the door behind him.

Han lay in the dark, trying his best to calm down from the nightmare. His heart wouldn’t stop crashing against his chest, and he couldn’t get the picture of Leia, terrified and screaming, out of his mind.

It was probably nothing. He didn’t have the force, there was no way that he was somehow seeing what was happening with Leia, and he’d seen her just a few hours ago. She’d mentioned that her evening plans involved an hour or so in her office before turning in for the night. Leia was probably fast asleep by now.

Then again, it had felt so real.

Come off it. She’s fine, and even if she’s not, she wouldn’t let you do anything about it.

Han rolled over, determined to think himself to sleep.

In the silence of his cabin, all he could hear were Leia’s screams and his own futile attempts to call back to her.

Jamming his feet into his boots and pulling on a shirt and his coat, he set off down the Falcon’s ramp and through the deserted halls of Hoth.

His knuckles stopped just shy of her door. What was he supposed to say? What was he even doing here? He drug himself out of his bed just to drag Leia out of hers? Boy, she’d be pissed. That’d be a new thing for them, though, not even being able to make it through the night without having to stop for an argument break…

But...this wasn’t about an argument. It might cause one, but he had to know she was okay. If she wanted to tear his head off afterward, then so be it. Better to have the image of Leia mad as hell in his head than the one that was currently front and center.

Han raised his hand and knocked gently. It slid open almost instantaneously and she was there, her head in shadow.  

“Princess, I…uh, well…”

 "Come in, Han,” she bade quietly, almost hoarsely. Her quiet invitation startled him, and he stood stupidly in the hall for a moment before following her. He unzipped his jacket and left it carefully on the back of her single chair.

"Well, Leia, I was just passing by--”

“Passing by? In your Mookie the Mynock sleep pants?

“--and I thought I might, uh, hem. See how your night was going. You know, just in case it was—”

“Luke told you?” she demanded.

“Not that great—what? I haven’t seen the kid since dinner.”

“Luke didn’t tell you that he was “passing by,” too, and he heard me having a nightmare,” Leia spat, flopping down onto the rug in front of her bed, which was a tangled mess of sheets and blankets, not unlike his own. Knees drawn up to her chest, Leia wrapped her arms around her legs and hid her face. The pose was so like his nightmare and Han grit his teeth against the welling anxiety.

“Leia, I swear, no one told me. I was asleep, too, dreamin’ about…ah, weird stuff,” he concluded, sitting down beside her. She gave a mirthless laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob.

“You want to talk about it?” she asked dryly.

“Uh…not really. You?” Leia didn’t answer, and Han took her silence to mean ‘Hells no.’ Still, he sensed she had something more to say, so he waited quietly for her to gather her words.

“Have you ever had a dream where…you see someone, and no matter how hard you try to get to them, you can’t?”

Han’s mouth was too dry to speak. He nodded.

“You can scream and yell and kick and fight, but nothing gets you past the last meter of space between you?” The waver in her normally iron-clad voice broke his last barrier.

“I’m right here, Sweetheart.”

Leia took a deep breath and leaned against him. He put his arm around her and held her close, seeking as much comfort from the embrace as he was offering. She sagged into him with palpable relief and Han massaged her upper arm with his thumb, trying to remind this brain that this was real, not the terrified, screaming image of her he’d seen in her head.

“I dreamt about what happened on Ord Mantell,” she whispered. “What could have happened.”

Han bit back an involuntary shudder.

“Yeah. Didn’t look too good, there. But we made it through.”

“I know that’s why you have to leave.”

His heart stopped for a moment. Rieekan was supposed to be the only one who knew he’d revoked his enlistment offer.

“Sweetheart…”

“Han, we made it through what happened on Ord Mantell. And I think we can make it through that, too. Leaving.”

Taking his arm from around her, Han sat back, turning to look into her eyes.

“At least, I’m willing to try if you are,” she whispered. Han was silent for a moment, searching her face. He’d never seen her so open and vulnerable, and the sight scared him just a little.

 “Stars, Leia, I’ll try anything,” he promised, pulling her tightly, roughly, into his arms.

She fit herself against him and tightened her arms around his chest, burying her face in his neck. Keeping her flush to him, Han shifted to lean against her bunk again. One hand worked small circles up and down her spine, the other at the nape of her neck, warming the exposed skin.

“I’m sorry you had a nightmare,” he murmured.

              “It won’t be the last one, I’m sure,” Leia answered, sitting up a bit but leaving her hands on his shoulders. “But…I finally made it across the gap, and…I’m so relieved,” she breathed.

“Me, too.” Han traced the curve of her cheek with one finger. “Sweetheart, can I kiss you?”

Leia nodded and closed her eyes, leaning toward him. He closed the distance and felt all the cold traces of the nightmare dissipate in an instant. Her mouth moved sensuously against his and he held her as close as possible, his fingers tangling in the loose hairs around her neck as she sighed into his mouth.

The ventilation kicked on and Leia shivered under his hands as the air blew into the room. Han fumbled around on her bed and pulled the heavy down comforter around them. Leia settled into his chest.              

“Sweetheart,” Han finally began. “I think I lo…” he trailed off in the middle of the word, not able to name the feeling quite yet.

“I know. Me too.”

Han pressed a kiss into her hair. This wasn’t how he’d pictured starting anything with Leia: coming to her quarters, terrified, in the middle of the night…holding each other while they worked through adrenaline and fear…making out one her floor…still, nothing had ever been normal with the two of them. They’d made it through that, though, and they’d make it through everything that lay ahead. Of that, he was certain.