thank you for introducing me to ventress/satine/padme... they're all such stylish and badass ladies, everything you could ever want in your femslash
Right? They kick ass and win politics, never mind that politics aren’t something you can win. Everyone’s terrified of them. (And rightfully so.) You’ve got a senator, a duchess, and an assassin, all adding up to unimaginable levels of sass.
Imagine the three of them, surviving post-ROTS. (Do they fake their deaths? Does Satine inherit Maul’s unique death defying abilities? Does Ventress come back as whatever Mother Talzin was? So many possibilities for being not dead.)
And, well, all three of them are pissed. The galaxy’s going to shit, they all died (or narrowly escaped death or foiled attempted murders or whatever), have major Sith Lord grudges, and they’re not about to let the Empire run unchecked if they can help it. So they set up camp somewhere and join the rebellion. (Or rejoin, as the case may be for Padme.) Or they travel around to outlying systems and rally people to their cause.
(Ventress stands behind them, idly toying with a weapon as Satine and Padme negotiate. People aren’t entirely sure which they’re won over by in the end.)
As I further attempt to catch up on writing for @swpolyamoryweek, here is my contribution for day 6: canon/canon divergence AND/OR coffee shop AU. Here we see Obi-Wan, Bail, and Breha dancing to celebrate their wedding, in a future in which Anakin never fell to the darkside, and things go at least slightly better for the galaxy as a result. This one is going to be tumblr-only, as it takes place in the future of my universe A Shift in Equilibrium, and might well end up a scene in one of the main fics in that series at some point.
Breha rarely observes any of the more frivolous formalities of her Court these days. Between Alderaan’s humanitarian efforts, her private management of Bail’s portion of the Rebel intelligence network, the usual demands of government, and the parenting of two rambunctious, Force sensitive children, she simply hasn’t had time for the level of ceremony that would normally accompany her position as Queen.
However, she really can’t avoid this particular traditional display, not without attracting even more attention from Palpatine’s spies than they are already dealing with. A private royal wedding might be just barely excusable on the grounds of “Ben’s” recent ill health. However, if they fail to hold a public celebration now that he is mostly recovered...well, sooner or later, someone is going to ask what the new Lord Consort has to hide. They really can’t afford that kind of scrutiny right now, when so many of their plans are finally in motion. Which is why she is sitting impatiently on her throne at the moment, with Bail a solid, steady presence at her back, waiting to open the first Alderaanian Royal Ball since the fall of the Republic.
A horn sounds, and the various members of Alderaan’s peerage fall into silence, as every head turns toward the great doors at the end of the Hall. The doors swing open, and the voice of her herald seems to ring in the vast stillness.
“His Highness, Archduke Ben Organa of the Juran Heights, Lord Consort of Alderaan!”
Then Obi-Wan appears in the doorway, and the rest of the world seems to fall away. He is wearing the clothing she had commissioned for him for the occasion: deep sapphire blue velvet and leather, with a tightly layered tunic that is daringly reminiscent of a Jedi uniform, and trousers fitted to his body like a second skin. Her tailors have completed the ensemble with a cape in the same blue velvet, but lined with the shining, liquid silver of her own gown. He is clean shaven for the first time in weeks, and his hair has been freshly dyed to the same chestnut brown he has sported since his first week on Alderaan. He is, in short, shockingly beautiful.
But more than that, it is the site of him walking toward them, strong and steady and healthy, that makes her breath catch After the terrifying weakness that had kept him bound to their bed for so long, after nearly losing him to it so many times, it seems like a dream to have here with them now. Behind her, she hears Bail’s breath hitch as he catches sight of him, and she knows that her husband (her other husband, a small, smug part of herself adds) is thinking the same thing.
Obi-Wan reaches the dais, and makes a low, formal bow, before holding out his hands to them. Breha can see the slightest hint of a smirk on his face at the ridiculousness of this particular piece of political theater.
“My lady wife,” he says, Coruscanti accent carefully disguised with the perfect hint of an Alderaanian mountain burr. “My lord husband. Might I have this dance?”
Breha rises from her throne then and takes his left hand, as Bail steps out from behind the throne and takes his right. “It is our pleasure, Duke Organa,” she says. Then the waiting crowd bows to all three of them, and Obi-Wan deftly maneuvers them onto the floor.
“I see Bail managed to talk you into the tiara after all,” she whispers to him, as he carefully leads her into position. “I suppose I’ll have to find a way to shown you both my appreciation later, won’t I?”
Obi-Wan’s expression remains carefully, pleasantly neutral, but his voice is full of warmth when he replies, “Well, you know how persuasive he can be. And besides, you did save me the trouble of dressing up for an actual wedding. This seems the least I could do to repay you.”
“Focus, you two,” Bail admonishes out the corner of his mouth, though his tone is fond. “You can flirt later, when the eyes off the entire court aren’t watching. For now, we need to put on a good show.”
It has been centuries since a reigning monarch of Alderaan last took two consorts at the same time. As such, it had taken no small effort for her archivists to locate a dance in the old tomes of protocol which could be performed by three dancers instead of the usual two. More modern protocol had stated that Breha should simply open the dancing with her new husband, and let Bail have his turn with each of them later in the evening. But Breha has no intention of setting that kind of precedent. The symbolism of the first dance after a wedding is very important in Alderaanian tradition, as it is considered to set the tone for the married life to come. The three of them are partners: partners in love, partners in life, partners in duty. Theirs is not a relationship of subordinates and superiors; it is a relationship of equals. The Court of Alderaan had best get used to that idea now.
And besides, she thinks, as the music swells and Obi-Wan begins to lead them into the first figure of the dance; the three of them do make a pretty picture together. She can admit that a certain, petty part of her delights in showing off the fact that she has somehow managed to secure two such wonderful men to share their lives with her, and with each other. And Obi-Wan and Bail are both wonderful dancers.
Outside this hall, the wars is raging on in secret. Inquisitors hunt for her children and the other Jedi secreted away in the mountains; Imperial spies and assassins seek ways to infiltrate Bail’s and Mon’s network; and the Emperor himself looks for every opportunity to entrap them. But across the galaxy, a thousand Rebel cells prepare for the coming battle. Every day, more surviving Jedi trickle in, or more clones are liberated from Palpatine’s control, or more worlds commit themselves to the cause of the Rebellion. Every day, they come closer to the day when the galaxy will be free.
And in this room, in this moment, Breha and her husbands dance, to show the galaxy that they are not afraid, that their lives do not stop because of ever-looming threats outside their door. Breha smiles, and lets herself be pulled into the music.
For those interested, Breha’s gown is this one here, and Obi-Wan’s outfit is inspired by some of ones in this post.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Gen
Pairing: Lux/Steela/Ahsoka/Barriss
Summary: when anakin puts together a team to help the onderon rebels, instead of obi-wan (as in canon), luminara volunteers to accompany him with her padawan barriss. written for star wars poly week: "day 7 // april 24th - free choice"
"Let's see how you're doing," Ahsoka said, crossing her arms, and Lux nodded, taking aim at a droid. He gently tossed the droid popper, and it rolled across the ground, too slowly, coming to a stop feet ahead of the shield.
"Dammit," he muttered.
"That's the right idea, you just need a little more force," Ahsoka said.
"Easy for you to say, Jedi," Steela said as she walked over to them, followed by Barriss.
"Hah hah," Ahsoka said, giving her an amused glance, "not that kind of force."
"I bet it helps, though," Lux said ruefully, reaching for another droid popper.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I’m a little behind on my things for @swpolyamoryweek, so here is my contribution to day 4 - favorite trope/headcanons AND/OR historical/fantasy AU . For this one, I chose cuddling as a favorite trope, and wrote a little snippet of Ahsoka/Riyo/Asajj, which may or may not take place in the distant future of my extended fic universe A Shift in in Equilibrium.
