Chapter Text
“will i ever meet him?”
the winds of tatooine whipped her shawl in every which direction, and she gripped onto the dirty fabric to keep it from flying away. she spared a glimpse up at her father as he gazed out at the sands ahead, a look across his face that— at the time— she couldn’t quite lay a finger on. she glanced back over to the small igloo-like buildings over on the horizon, tatooine’s two suns illuminating their marmalade glow before the planet’s pink sky.
this was where he played.
a tiny silhouette of a boy ran and skipped on the horizon, his soft, high-pitched voice muffled in the distance. he was only a year or so younger than her, alas, their lives were already drastically different.
her father’s lips pursed and he pressed a palm in between her shoulder blades, turning her around and guiding her the way back home. “perhaps,” was all he said, and she hung onto those words. perhaps.
perhaps.
her father told her this as if he intended for her to stay optimistic, and as she was only just a child, she believed this– or rather, she wanted to believe it. she knew her father only said such things to give her hope, alas, she knew better than to pursue the feeling.
the walk back home was as normal as ever, even as the wind raged and wreaked havoc through her hair, tying her strands into knots creating a nest. she nestled into her father’s side, slipping an arm out from underneath her cowl to lock it around his. he allowed this, he allowed himself this warmth.
and he smiled down at her.
it wasn’t too long before they were finally in their small, clay house, in which she immediately kicked her shoes off, shaking dirt and dust out of her hair. her father set himself down at their small, practically makeshift dinner table, a palm soothing over the wrinkle in his brow. she gazed over at her father, furrowing her own brows as she dared to step closer, kneeling her head to catch a better look at him. “father?” she called for him quietly, dropping down to her knees beside him and reaching for the hand in his lap.
she was young, not even a decade old, yet, she knew something was wrong. she gave his fingers a squeeze, earning a warm grin— no matter how small it was— from her father, and she gave a sigh. “it’s nothing you should be worried about, darling,” he murmured as she leaned forward, resting her chin atop her father’s knee.
she knew her father was going through something. she could feel it, although, she wasn’t quite sure what to call the feeling. she could only guess it wasn’t anything good, in which she wrinkled her brow when he did his best to reassure her that there was nothing to worry about. “is it about luke?” she wondered, daring to push her father further for answers. he glanced down to his daughter as he stroked the side of her head, feeling through her soft tendrils of hair.
she pondered the boy they would check up on from a distance on the daily, the boy her father would spend time working on little toys for, the boy who she didn’t actually know, but knew all the same. it was strange– she was a total stranger to him yet, she almost felt like she knew him. she and her father had spent many days watching him from afar, she had spent many days trying to match the twinkle her father had in his eyes whenever he’d see him.
there was only one thing her father refused to tell her about the little boy, at least, he promised he’d tell her all about it whenever she was older. it was the answer he’d given every time she asked about the boy’s parents, the twinkle in his eyes reducing to practically nothing.
her father didn’t answer her question.
she wasn’t really expecting him to.
“why don’t you run along and i’ll get supper started?” her father broke the silence that had ensued, patting the top of his daughter’s head. she scowled up at him as he arose from his seat, acting like everything was fine and not completely, utterly wrong. he didn’t want to break down in front of his daughter, it was the last thing he wanted to do.
the truth was, she would later find out, that obi-wan kenobi was always hurting.
obi-wan kenobi was courageous— but he couldn’t bring himself to let his daughter down.
she pushed herself back onto her feet, staggering as she found her balance before shuffling her feet to her small room, plopping herself down on her bed. she kicked dust around on the floor, irises searching for anything to lock onto yet, her mind still remained in the other room. as she and luke grew older, her father seemed to grow more tense, sadder, even. of course, she didn’t know why— nothing had changed save for the time, anyways.
what was so different?
her irises finally latched onto the small, wooden toy her father had made for her when she was very little, the remnants of a grin curving her lips upward. the tip of her forefinger traced around the outline of the small, wooden creature’s head, over the two abnormally large ears on either side of it, and through the wrinkles on the forehead.
“what is it, father?” she had asked him when she had finally grown old enough to question it, when she was finally able to talk for herself. her father smiled warmly down at the small child in his lap, his fingers stroking the top of her head whilst he traced his fingernails over the ears of his creation. “a good friend of mine,” he replied. “he was the best jedi there was.”
she pondered this— at the time, the concept of ‘jedi’ was something she hadn’t exactly grasped onto yet— and she gazed back down at the toy. she followed her father’s finger as he traced back over the object, mapping out every single tiny, little detail all over again. “yoda, his name was.”
she could hear her father’s footsteps permeate from outside her room, the rattle of pots and kettles clanging against the clay countertops following suit. she swung her legs over the side of her bed, turning onto her side to face the wall as she pressed the wooden toy closer to her chest.
perhaps, the times really were changing underneath her nose all along. she was growing up after all, she knew that it was only a matter of time before she’d have to grow into new responsibilities, to take care of her father as he grew older.
perhaps, he’d finally begin her training.
obi-wan kenobi was weary of this. the notion of his brother– long lost– never once left his mind as life went on, as well as the idea that he had failed not only him but as a master. the first time his daughter had asked about jedi training– he froze.
he was terrified.
how would he have been able to live with himself if he failed yet another jedi apprentice, and even worse, his own daughter? the guilt of failing anakin and practically causing the rise of the empire had been eating away at him ever since that one dreadful day on mustafar, when he had to accept that his brother– anakin skywalker– was gone.
she was growing older now, and neither one of them were getting any younger– not her, not him, and not luke skywalker. he knew his child would never grow up normal, being force sensitive made certain of that, but would it really have been that bad if she grew up to ignore it?
he knew it was inevitable that she’d be curious, and quite frankly, he found it hard to say no to his daughter sometimes.
she was going to ask him at supper.
she gripped the little wooden carving of master yoda to her chest.
her mind had already been made.
she wanted to learn how to use the force.