From the fic I’ll write someday in which Mara has a son by Vader. This scene set at the Academy on Yavin IV.
“Mara?”
She started, hands instinctively flying to her weapons before she caught herself. “Skywalker.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He walked around the prep table and pulled over another stool. “Can I join you?”
She nodded, pensive.
“I’m glad you’re eating.” Luke slid onto the stool and propped his elbows on the table. “You missed dinner.” From the size of her plate, it didn’t look like she’d eaten much, but anything was better than skipping meals outright. He nodded toward the bowl sitting directly in front of her. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
Mara stared at the bowl. “I’m not sure I can eat them,” she finally said, tightly.
Luke cocked his head. “Something wrong with them?”
“No, just with me.”
There was a frustrated, almost angry undertone to her words that made Luke’s hackles rise. She was being too hard on herself again. He already knew better than to try a direct approach, though.
“You’ve got the sense,” he said, instead, nodding emphatically.
Pushing up, he headed to the conservator, moving things around until he found an opaque, unlabeled container in a back corner and the jar of berries. He could feel Mara’s eyes on his back, watching him as he gathered another bowl and couple spoons and carried everything back to the table.
“Berries,” he informed her, dishing a generous portion out for himself. “Should be served with fluffed cream. People think you can eat them naked but you can’t.” He set the jar of berries aside and popped open the second container. “Violet cream,” he scooped large dollops of thick, velvety cream the color of a Bespin sunset into each of their bowls. “Is the best. Blue’s pretty good.” Settling back onto his stool he made a face. “The white stuff on Coruscant is strange, though.”
“Orange,” Mara blurted. Her mouth twisted like she hadn’t meant to say it, but, committed, she continued, “Krils give orange milk. The cream is – works well. For desserts.”
“You are a connoisseur!” Luke exclaimed, pleased.
She shooked her head. “My -.” She stopped, emotions he couldn’t track coloring her sense. “Ian. You’ve met him.”
“Karrde’s nephew,” he nodded.
“He’s the connoisseur.” She prodded at a berry half-heartedly with a spoon. “He keeps lists,” she offered, quietly, after a moment. “He gets that from me.”
Luke smiled, imagining the little boy sitting with Mara learning the ins-and-outs of running his uncle’s business. His earnest face screwed up with concentration as she walked him through her neat, orderly processes.
“So it was his voice in your head warning you not to eat them,” Luke chuckled.
Mara’s sense tightened and she put down the spoon. Luke instantly knew he’d said something wrong, but he wasn’t sure why. He waited, falling into a shallow, meditative breathing pattern in hopes of keeping his own sense level and calm. Reassuring. They were friends – she’d tell him what she could. He just needed to give her space.
“Were your Aunt and Uncle strict? When you were young?”
“Yes,” Luke said honestly. “But they had to be. Tatooine was a dangerous place. All the more so for little boys with unexplained hunches and curiosity too big for their boots.” He hesitated. “Were your parents strict?”
Mara’s hands fisted and she pulled them into her lap. “I didn’t have parents. Only – I didn’t break rules. I couldn’t afford to.” She swallowed. “It wasn’t safe.”
Abused. Luke struggled to keep his own muscles from locking up. She was barely bigger than Leia - she’d have been tiny as a child. That someone could have raised a hand to her -. He took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. That was over, now. She had Talon.
“I didn’t master the exercise this afternoon,” she said, her voice low and strained. “Not even after – when everyone else left. I couldn’t do it.”
Luke wanted to reassure her that it was fine – normal even. Only Kam and Kiriana Ti had gotten it right off, and they’d both had previous exposure to something similar. But the words caught in his throat, the Force urging him to wait.
“I still hear him,” she whispered, loathing deep in her voice. “Telling me I haven’t earned anything – I shouldn’t even have had dinner. I didn’t deserve it.”
Pain washed through him but, to his surprise, she picked up the spoon again resolutely. Dipping it into her bowl, she caught a single berry and giant gob of cream and then closed her eyes.
“You are dead,” she intoned, solemnly.
The air around them hushed with the feel of a powerful rite. Luke quickly filled is own spoon with berries and cream and closed his eyes.
“I am not yours, I am mine. My body is mine. My mind is mine. My power is mine.”
Luke half-opened one eye, unable to resist peeking as her voice gained strength and her sense evened out with the recitation.
“Yoieu kark cay wa saieu doyapa che dokahnag.“
Shocked, Luke burst out laughing, both his eyes going wide as Mara emphatically stuffed the spoon in her mouth.
Mara lifted her chin, refusing to back down as she chewed, but pink tinged her cheeks – the only time he’d ever seen her blush.
“Koee goo doth kark cay wa saieu doyapa che dokahnag,” he said, raising his spoon in toast and then gulping down his own bite.
