Luke was always eager to prove himself; the runt of his group on Tatooine, the boy was only twelve as he ran to the best of his ability, competing with fourteen and fifteen year olds as they marched onwards into the Dune Sea. It was a proper adventure into the unknown, with actual stakes and a sense of danger, the kind his uncle explicitly forbid him from.
He knew they barely tolerated his presence, with his unchanged voice and short stature, reminding them of a childhood they so haughtily thought they’d outgrown. But they were the closest thing he had to friends, even if they mostly saw him as an irritating little brother. The youth was going to show that he could keep up with them – he wasn’t exactly a little kid either!
“Keep up, wormie!” one of the older boys shouted as Luke knelt by the edge of a canyon. He had to have been going twice their speed, but his little feet couldn’t close the gap. Sweat glistened from his brow, soaking into his sun-bleached long hair, which seemed to grow increasingly darker and more matted as he continued his trek. The boy swallowed what pathetic amount of saliva he could muster for his parched throat, scrambling back to his feet as he uselessly marched on.
“Don’t call me that,” Luke huskily whispered under his breath, following them as they continued east, past the edge of the canyon. Wormie. It stung every time he heard it, and it made him physically recoil with each syllable. They got a kick out of mocking little Luke, so sensitive and emotional, quick to impulsive flareups. It usually led to him doing something stupid and getting in trouble.
“I’m not listening!” the boy shouted back as he stumbled further. How good a glass of water would be right now – or even better, a warm glass of milk. But Luke couldn’t turn around, not yet. Rumor was that the skeleton of a Krayt dragon was just a bit further out, and Luke wanted to see it with his own eyes. If any one of them were a little bit older, they could have used a speeder..
The heat was beginning to overpower young Luke, his breath becoming more and more shallow. His footsteps began to become uneven, losing focus, unsteadied as he marched on. His vision blurred, the images of his peers doubling as he tried to blink back into normalcy, the youth didn’t notice the large rock that met his foot.
Luke flipped over, falling flat on his rear. To his great embarrassment, a roar of laughter cut through the winds of sand, funneling his way. Fighting back tears, Luke wiped his bubbling eyes and running nose.
“Cut it out,” yelled a voice ahead, deeper than the rest. Luke was too caught up in his own humiliation to look up at the figure that approached him, flinching as a comforting hand was on his shoulder. “You okay, Luke?”
It was Biggs – it was always Biggs, with his black hair and slight dusting of a moustache broaching his upper lip. He was older than the rest, fifteen, more assured. He rarely joined in to the mocking of Luke, and always seemed to have an active interest in his life. Unlike the other kids, Luke felt comfortable in calling him his friend, despite the age difference.
“Y-Yeah,” Luke said, as Biggs helped him up by hooking an arm under his shoulder.
“Go on ahead, guys, we’ll catch up!” Biggs shouted to the group, turning his attention back to his young friend. “I don’t know what it is with you; you’re still just a kid, Luke. You shouldn’t have followed us.”
“I’m not a kid! I—”
The older youth gave a dry look his way, causing Luke to let out a bashful smile.
“Here. Drink some water, you look like you’re about to pass out,” Biggs said, unclasping a vial from his belt and handing it to Luke. “Don’t go out this far without some next time.”
Luke took a drink from the vial, coughing just as he swallowed, nodding. “I promise,” wiping spare droplets off his lips, looking up with happy eyes. “And Biggs?”
“Yeah, Luke?”
“Thanks,” he said sheepishly, turning away with a thankful grin.
Summary: Obi-Wan spent his time in the desert watching over Luke. Short, goes right up to the start of ANH.
Excerpt:
The desert was barren, empty, compared to the hustle and bustle of the countless beings living their lives on Coruscant, but the quiet, open plains made it easy for Obi-Wan to keep an eye on the bright star of Luke Skywalker from his hovel near the Dune Wastes. The few critters and sentients making their home in the desert were nothing compared to the noise in the Force he was used to, so when fear, pain, or elation exploded across the dunes, he knew it could only be one boy.
Here - queen Breha Organa and viceroy Bail Organa of Alderaan, as well as Saché.
This isn’t 100% true to the original fic, given it clashes a bit with the established canon. It might be that this is due to a lack of information on Leia’s adoptive parents at the time it was written. I, therefore, took the liberty to make a little change in order to correct that.
In the fic, Bail Organa’s wife - and, hence, Leia’s adoptive mother - is supposed to be Saché Organa, a former handmaiden of Padmé Amidala, instead of Breha Organa (who doesn’t exist there). This wouldn’t pose much of a problem, since you could just resort to switching the name in your head ... were it not for the fact that Saché’s death later in the story (sorry for the spoiler) was a very important factor for the plot. However that may be - we know quite well that the canon Breha Organa, on the other hand, survived until the destruction of Alderaan in ANH.
To solve this I mentally split these two in the fic - with both existing in it.
Breha as Leia’s actual adoptive mother, and Saché being the Organas’ aide, and a governess and teacher to the young princess - something I consider quite likely, given it seems a natural choice for the Organas to hire a former handmaiden and confidante of Padmé Amidala to help raising the latters’ daughter - also as a means to preserve her legacy and memory.
I imagine Saché being really close to both Bail and Breha (all of them being old friends of Padmé, and common members of the Rebel Alliance), as well as Leia - who almost considers her as a second mother, and a close friend.
That way, it works with both the established, as well as the fic-verse canon. Breha lives on, but we can still have the tragic impact that Saché’s demise has on both Leia herself (plus the furthering of her dedication to the Alliance), as well as providing the pivotal moment to spell doom on her former friendly relations to Darth Vader.
[ Saché was killed in a raid of a rebel meeting, by troopers that were under the command of Vader - who wasn’t present at that time, and who would definitely have prevented it if he had been, as he a) wasn’t even aware she took part in the meeting, and b) never meant to harm her regardless (she was also one of his friends once) - therefore he deeply regretted what happened upon finding out when he arrived. Unfortunately, Leia arrived a moment later, and misconceived it all as an intentional betrayal on his part - which it, obviously (well, to the readers), wasn’t. ]
Anyway...
So, most of the time Saché is mentioned I insert Breha’s name, but in some situations I leave it be, given to what I think is appropriate there, according to context.
Hey, look! It's more Wookiees. (I think this is my subconscious trying to tell me something about shaving...)
The threat his hypervigilance had alerted him to was, in fact, a three-foot Wookiee cub kneeling on the carpet and trying to gather a fallen blanket in one paw without letting go of the stuffed tooka in the other. Han let out a breath and placed his blaster on one of the high shelves before opening the door the rest of the way.
“Hey, what’s going on? You should be in bed,” he said.
[I’m gonna sleep in the big bed,] Lumpy chirped.
“What?”
[With Mommy and Daddy.]
Han groaned and narrowly avoided swearing in front of the kid. He’d bet the Falcon that the last thing his friend wanted on one of the few nights he got to spend with his wife was a kid sleeping in between them.
While Han tried to come up with a response, Lumpy started to creep back down the hall. Han reached out and took his arm lightly.
“Buddy, don’t go in there and wake your folks up. Your dad had a big day of flying.”
Lumpy shook his head vigorously. [But he’s not sleeping,] he insisted. [I could hear him talking.]
Oh, there was absolutely no way in hell he was going to let the kid barge into that bedroom.
He shuddered, recalling the time he’d accidentally interrupted an intimate comm call between the couple (and spent the rest of the week unable to make eye contact with his co-pilot).
