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Chapter Text

Mara Jade knelt before the Emperor, her head lowered, every nerve in her body alert to the scrutiny from the throne above her. The air in the chamber was still, heavy with a silence that pressed down like a physical weight. Palpatine’s presence dominated the room, a cold and suffocating darkness, and she could feel his yellow gaze searing into her.

It took all her self-control to keep still, to keep from fidgeting under that piercing gaze. She knew what he saw, what she tried to hide even from herself—something had shifted within her, something she didn’t yet understand. For weeks, her connection to the Force had been faltering, flickering like a candle in a strong wind. It was as though the power that had once flowed through her so effortlessly now hesitated, distant and unsteady, no matter how desperately she reached for it.

Her training as the Emperor’s Hand had honed her into a weapon, a blade sharpened to perfection, but now her edge was dulled, her instincts weakened. She had never felt this vulnerable, and the doubt gnawed at her, a constant, quiet fear that haunted every mission since the encounter on Daiyu.

She could still see the crowded streets of that shadowed world in her mind, the heavy scent of the market stalls mingling with the cloying smell of rain-soaked metal and decay. She hadn’t been there on the Emperor’s orders—Daiyu was a stop on her way to her real target, a brief pause to pick up a few supplies and wait for her contact.

But as she navigated the tight, winding streets, something had tugged at her. A presence, faint yet insistent, brushing against her mind like a whisper she couldn’t quite catch. It was different from any presence she’d ever encountered—neither disciplined nor aggressive. Instead, it had felt… blinding. Burning like a wildfire. Strong but uncontained. Not malicious, but dangerous nonetheless.
Following the feeling, Mara had turned down an alleyway and found herself face to face with a stranger.

He was a young man, dressed in worn, nondescript robes that gave little away about his person or his purpose here. Tall, unassuming, with bright blue eyes and an open face that looked strangely familiar, as though she’d seen him before in a dream. He stood in the shadow of an archway, seeming almost out of place among the shifty traders and worn-down buildings, his gaze fixed on her with a quiet intensity.

For a moment, Mara had felt that strange presence in the Force grow stronger, a pulse that resonated in the air between them. It was as if he radiated something steady and calming, something that beckoned her closer, despite every instinct warning her to stay away. And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the feeling flickered and died, slipping through her fingers like sand.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, his voice mild, yet carrying an edge of caution.

Mara had narrowed her eyes, sizing him up. She hadn’t detected any visible weapons, but there was something about him that felt… potent. Dangerous, even. But she couldn’t place why.

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else” she replied, trying to escape an uncomfortable encounter. “I’m just waiting for someone.”

The man’s gaze held hers for a heartbeat too long. He nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. “Then I won’t keep you.”

And just like that, he’d turned and vanished back into the crowd, leaving her with an uncomfortable chill and an unsettling sense of familiarity she couldn’t shake. She hadn’t realized it then, but her connection to the Force had felt different in that moment—fainter, like a flame about to go out.

Since then, she’d replayed that brief encounter in her mind countless times, trying to understand what had happened. It was as if something within her had shifted, some silent, unyielding force pushing back against her control. The Force itself had become… resistant. Unreliable. And the memory of that man, with his quiet strength and piercing gaze, lingered like a bruise she couldn’t ignore.

She didn’t know his name, didn’t know who or what he was, but one thing was certain: something about him had unsettled her, weakened her.

And now, kneeling before her Emperor, Mara could feel the weight of her failures pressing down on her, that insidious doubt twisting her insides. Palpatine must have sensed it, because his voice was colder than she’d ever heard it.

“My Hand,” he began, his voice little more than a whisper, yet it echoed around the chamber like a warning. “You have disappointed me.”

Mara tightened her jaw, keeping her eyes fixed on the polished black floor. She felt a stab of fear—sharp and hot—but forced herself to remain outwardly calm. It was true: her last few missions had been a disaster, marred by that frustrating instability in her connection to the Force. Ever since Daiyu, she had felt as if she were operating at half-strength, constantly distracted by the unnerving sensation that her power could fail her at any moment.

Palpatine’s voice cut through her thoughts. “You have failed me,” he repeated, each word punctuated by a chilling certainty. “Twice now, you have let your target slip through your fingers. I trusted you to be more than my other agents, yet you flounder. Tell me, Mara—why?”

The question lingered, an accusation as much as an invitation to speak. Mara’s mind raced. She knew the Emperor wasn’t asking for explanations; he wanted to know if she would dare admit her weakness.

“I have no excuse, my Master,” she said finally, her voice steady. “Only my loyalty and my resolve to prove myself to you.”

A long pause stretched between them, during which Mara felt her heart beating painfully against her ribs. She sensed him searching her, probing the corners of her mind, and it took everything in her not to recoil from his touch.

“You are running out of chances,” Palpatine hissed, his words a mere breath that chilled her blood. “But I am not without mercy. I am giving you one last opportunity to redeem yourself in my eyes. Do not waste it.”

Mara felt a surge of relief mingled with dread. “What would you have me do, Master?”

The Emperor’s expression twisted into something resembling a smile, though it was devoid of warmth. “There is a Jedi temple that my agents recently uncovered—a relic from a forgotten era. The Rebel Alliance has shown interest in it. They believe it may contain artifacts or knowledge that could aid them. You will go to this temple and ensure they find nothing.”

Mara nodded, feeling a flicker of renewed purpose. “It will be done, my Master.”

Palpatine’s eyes narrowed. “This is no trivial task, Mara. The Rebels will not be so foolish as to send their weakest. You may find that your abilities will be tested once again. And if you fail…” He let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished, the implication as heavy as a death sentence.

“I understand,” Mara replied. “I will not fail you.”

“See that you don’t,” the Emperor replied coldly. He leaned back into the shadows, dismissing her with a flick of his clawed fingers. “You may go.”

With a final bow, Mara rose, keeping her face impassive until she turned and left the throne room. Only when she was alone in the hallway did she let out a breath, the tension in her shoulders momentarily giving way. She was the Emperor’s Hand—loyal, unyielding, unstoppable. She would prove herself, no matter the cost.

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As Mara strode down the stark corridors of the Imperial Palace, her mind churned with unease. Palpatine’s words hung over her like a storm cloud, a constant reminder that her once-unshakable position as the Emperor’s Hand was slipping. This mission wasn’t a test—it was a last chance. One more mistake, one more failure, and she knew she wouldn’t leave the Emperor’s throne room alive.

The briefing on the Jedi temple had been short, the coordinates transmitted directly to her ship. But Mara’s thoughts kept wandering back to Daiyu. Since that encounter, her perception had dulled, her abilities faltered, and no amount of meditation or focus had restored her strength. It was as if the very core of her connection to the Force had been… altered. Yet, for all her training, she couldn’t pinpoint what had gone wrong.

Steeling herself, she walked into the quiet of her private quarters and activated the ship’s navigation, watching as the coordinates lit up on her screen. As the ship began its preparation, she leaned back, exhaling slowly. She forced her mind back to that fateful day, back to the shadowed alleyways of Daiyu. If she had any chance of fixing whatever this was, she needed to first figure out exactly what had caused it.

As she waited for the shuttle to begin it’s launch sequence, she allowed herself to slip into a deep meditation.

It had been a crowded street market—bright banners and makeshift stalls, buzzing with chatter and the scent of alien spices. She was careful to blend in, wearing a dark cloak over her Imperial flight suit, her presence cloaked in the Force to avoid detection. The crowd had parted slightly around her, as though sensing some unspoken danger. She’d felt untouchable, invisible.

But then she’d felt it—a faint ripple in the Force, like the brush of a hand on her shoulder, insistent and familiar. It drew her in like a magnet. She remembered her pace slowing as she turned, following the pull, until her eyes found him.

He’d seemed nothing more than another traveler at first, his worn robes blending in with the rest of the street’s inhabitants. And yet there was something about him—his presence steady, like a quiet flame amid the bustling chaos. His gaze had met hers, calm and piercing, and for a moment, it was as if the noise of the market faded away. The Force thrummed between them, unpredictable and strange, refusing her control.

They had barely spoken, only a brief exchange of words that, at the time, had seemed harmless. But even then, she could feel something elusive pulling at her. His blue eyes held a calmness she couldn’t place, an unwavering certainty that unnerved her. He’d stood there as if he knew her—knew something she didn’t.

And now, here she was, one failure away from losing everything she’d worked for.

The shuttle’s console beeped, indicating its systems were ready for departure. Mara stood, pushing thoughts of the stranger from her mind as she steeled herself for the mission. Whatever had happened on Daiyu didn’t matter anymore. She had a job to do, and she would see it through.

As the stars stretched and blurred around her in hyperspace, she vowed that this time, she wouldn’t let anything—or anyone—stand in her way.

Chapter Text

The shuttle jolted suddenly as it exited hyperspace, snapping Mara out of her meditation. She opened her eyes to the sight of the planet filling her viewport—a lush, heavily forested world she knew to be brimming with ancient secrets. Its presence in the Force felt slow and lethargic, as though the planet itself were awakening from a long slumber. Over the canopy of emerald trees, she could make out the distant silhouette of the temple, its towering spires entwined with vines and moss. This was her destination.

Mara inhaled deeply, letting the sensation anchor her, pushing aside the uneasy stirrings that had followed her since the mission’s start. This was routine—a standard sweep-and-destroy mission, one she’d completed dozens of times before. Locate anything of potential value to the rebels, destroy it, and report back. Straightforward, and an opportunity to prove herself once again.
As the shuttle began its descent, she activated the ship’s scanning system, running a sweep for any nearby vessels or signs of life. The results came up blank—no ships, no life forms. She felt a small spark of relief and allowed herself a slow exhale. So far, so good.

The shuttle landed with a soft thud, and the door slid open, the boarding ramp extending into the dense undergrowth. She stepped out, the thick, humid air settling on her skin, cloying and almost sweet in her throat. Mara grimaced at the weight of it. The quicker she could be done here, the better.

Her boots pressed into the soft ground as she approached the temple’s entrance, the dense foliage giving way to ancient stone. The dimly lit hallways beyond loomed before her, echoing her footsteps as she ventured further inside. The Force here was palpable, lingering in every shadow, watching, waiting. She reached out cautiously, seeking any signs of the traps these temples were notorious for hiding. Nothing. Only silence, broken only by the soft hum of her lightsaber as she activated it, casting a violet glow that illuminated the passage.

The narrow corridor soon opened into a vast chamber. Smooth tile replaced the rough stone beneath her, and the ceiling arched into the darkness above. She raised her lightsaber, letting its light reveal more of the ancient carvings—runes and symbols that traced the walls, remnants of an era she couldn’t hope to understand. The stillness around her was unsettling, as though the temple itself were holding its breath.

Suddenly, the sharp tone of her commlink broke the silence, startling her. She checked the alert, her heart quickening. The ship’s scanner had detected another vessel entering the area. Mara’s jaw tightened as she extinguished her lightsaber, her mind racing. Someone else was here. Her mission had just become more complicated.

She moved quickly, ducking behind a pillar and slipping deeper into the shadows, blending with the temple’s darkness. Moments later, the scuffling of boots and the quiet whirr of servos echoed from the doorway. Mara steadied her breathing, crouching low and watching as her eyes adjusted.

A figure entered the chamber, and Mara felt all the air leave her lungs. It was him—the stranger from Daiyu. That calm, magnetic presence she’d felt weeks ago flooded back, even stronger now. He moved with quiet purpose, his gaze scanning the chamber with a mix of curiosity and alertness, every step deliberate. Beside him, a small astromech droid wheeled along, emitting a series of cheerful beeps as it took in the surroundings.

Mara’s eyes lingered on him, taking in his robes and the lightsaber clipped to his belt. The realization hit her like a jolt: this man, this stranger, was a Jedi Knight. Instinctively, her hand went to her own weapon, but a strange hesitation held her in place. She’d fought Jedi before—this should have been no different. And yet, her confidence felt splintered, her connection to the Force wavering in his presence. Where his energy was calm and centered, hers felt frayed, fragile. What had changed since Daiyu?

She watched him move across the chamber, studying the walls, his focus unwavering. He radiated a strength that unnerved her, something in the way he carried himself that defied everything she’d been trained to see in her enemies.

Mara held back, her steps quiet as she wove through the ancient stone halls, her senses on edge. Her heart beat faster with each second, each small detail she observed reinforcing the undeniable reality of his presence. He seemed different now—more centered, his posture exuding a calm alertness. Yet there was something unchanged about him, a quiet strength that struck at the heart of her composure. She had been trained to be the predator, to eliminate threats without hesitation, yet here she was, lurking in the shadows, observing this man who had unsettled her from the very beginning.

With every passing moment, the silence around them grew heavier. The ambient sounds of the temple—the distant echo of dripping water, the low creak of the ancient stone settling—all seemed to fade, leaving only her own heartbeat thudding in her ears. The Emperor’s command echoed in her mind, cold and unforgiving: “Do not fail me again.” Her purpose was clear—she was here to protect the secrets of the temple, no matter the cost. But here he was, a formidable obstacle to her mission, and yet she found herself frozen, her usual resolve faltering under the weight of his calm presence.

The sudden chirp of his astromech droid broke her trance, and Mara inhaled sharply, pulling herself back to reality. She steadied her breathing, pushing aside her hesitation. He was here to uncover the secrets she was sworn to protect. She could not afford to waver. Silently, she moved deeper into the shadows, finding cover behind a weathered pillar, from where she could observe him unseen.

From her concealed vantage point, she studied him as he moved through the chamber, a blue lightsaber casting a soft glow across the ancient walls. He ran his fingers along the intricate runes etched into the stone, his movements reverent, as if he were paying respect to the lost history contained within these walls. The sight twisted something inside her. She felt a surge of frustration, her grip tightening around the hilt of her own lightsaber. The mission was clear, and yet her instincts warred with her training, an unfamiliar doubt clouding her thoughts.

Act now, her instincts screamed, before he uncovers something dangerous. But something held her back. She felt as though the temple itself were watching, holding its breath, waiting.

He paused, tilting his head as if listening for something just beyond perception. Mara’s pulse quickened. She felt a crackle in the air, a ripple of energy that made the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. And then, suddenly, he turned in her direction, his gaze sharp, blue eyes piercing through the shadows. The space between them seemed to shrink, his attention narrowing in on her hiding place with unerring precision.

Her pulse spiked, and before she could fully process her next move, her lightsaber flared to life, its purple blade igniting the darkness. She stepped out from behind the pillar, her body tense and ready, heart hammering against her ribs.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice hard and unyielding.

Surprise flashed in his eyes, but it softened almost immediately into something else, something steady and patient. “I’m here to learn from the temple,” he replied, his voice calm and reassuring. “And you don’t have to fight me.”

The conviction in his tone rattled her. How could he be so composed in the face of an obvious threat? She gritted her teeth. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

He held his hands open, a gesture of peace even as he took a small, cautious step back. “I’m not your enemy,” he said, his voice gentle yet resolute. “At least I don’t think I am. Who are you?”

Mara’s grip tightened on her lightsaber, her heart pounding in her chest. “I am the Emperor’s Hand,” she replied, her voice cold and unwavering. The title felt heavy on her tongue, a reminder of her loyalty, her purpose.

The weight of her title hung in the air, ominous and suffocating: *The Emperor’s Hand.* Luke’s eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of it. He had never heard the title before, but the tension in her voice and the cold resolve in her eyes told him all he needed to know. Her loyalty to the Emperor was absolute, a devotion beyond the ordinary. 

An assassin, he surmised, sensing that her presence here was no accident. She was a shadow—a weapon sent to hunt, eliminate, and protect the Emperor’s interests at any cost. And now, grimly, he realized, he was her target, an intruder in the Emperor’s sacred domain.

Luke centered himself, drawing on the calm that had become second nature. “So, you’re here to stop me from uncovering the truth,” he said, his voice even, testing for a reaction.

A flicker of irritation sparked in her eyes. “You know nothing about the truth,” she spat, fingers tightening around her lightsaber hilt. “You’re meddling with things you can’t possibly comprehend.”

“Maybe.” His expression softened, almost pitying. “But I know enough to see that the dark side isn’t the answer.”

Her jaw clenched, the grip on her hilt turning her knuckles white. “That’s enough,” she growled, igniting her lightsaber with a flash of violet light. Her voice was clipped, final. He could feel her resolve firming in the Force. She wasn’t here to debate or discuss; she was here to kill.

Without warning, she lunged at him, her strikes swift and unyielding. Luke’s lightsaber flared to life just in time, the blue blade clashing with hers in a crackling surge of energy. Her attacks were relentless, practiced and precise, forcing him to stay on the defensive. Each strike was an extension of years of training. She was no mere lackey.

They moved through the dim chamber, their blades flashing arcs of blue and violet light. Luke parried each blow, his mind working to read her, to understand her strategy, but there was no breaking her focus. She was driven by a fierce purpose.

“Why fight for him?” Luke asked between strikes, his voice threaded with genuine curiosity. “You know what he is. You can feel it.”

Her expression darkened, and with a furious hiss, her blade came down in a vicious arc that Luke barely dodged. “Save your breath, Jedi,” she snapped, her voice laced with anger and frustration. “Your words mean nothing.”

Luke exhaled, the futility of trying to reach her settling in. She was too entrenched in her loyalty, her allegiance to the Emperor too deeply ingrained. He shifted his focus fully to defense, letting her wear herself out with the strength of her fury.

Suddenly, the silence of their clash was broken by an ominous hum that reverberated through the walls, followed by a grinding rumble. Both Mara and Luke froze, their lightsabers raised in defensive stances as the ground trembled beneath them.

“What did you do?” she demanded, her voice sharp with alarm as she scanned the shifting walls and dust that cascaded from the ceiling.

Luke shook his head, equally startled. “I didn’t do anything.” But a sinking feeling gnawed at him. He knew what this was: a security system. An ancient safeguard built into the temple to protect its secrets. He’d read about such traps in the Jedi archives—defenses designed to keep intruders at bay. As they fought, her use of the dark side must have triggered the temple’s security.

The ground shuddered beneath them, cracks spreading across the stone floor as concealed panels slid open, revealing long-dormant weaponry and grinding machinery. Mara’s gaze flicked nervously between the weapons and Luke, the first glimmer of panic breaking through her stoic demeanor.

Before either could react, the floor lurched violently. Mara stumbled, reaching out with the Force, but her connection felt strained, as though she were grasping for water slipping through her fingers. Luke caught a brief flicker of doubt in her eyes, her unshakable confidence faltering for the briefest moment.

The walls groaned as another column cracked, sending shards of stone flying. Luke barely saw it as he looked back, just in time to watch Mara stumble. A massive stone beam fell from the ceiling, grazing her before slamming to the ground. She cried out, a short, sharp sound, before her body went limp. Her eyes fluttered closed as she slipped into unconsciousness.
Luke’s heart clenched. There was no time to hesitate. He rushed to her side, brushing debris off her. Dust coated her face, mingling with blood from a scrape on her temple. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in labored gasps.

The temple’s defense systems roared to life, blaster cannons hidden in the walls powering up with a mechanical hum. Luke could feel the Force urging him to move, the structure collapsing around them. The ancient temple was moments from total ruin.

Her lightsaber lay beside her, the purple glow fading as it deactivated. Luke snatched it up, securing it at his belt along with his own before lifting her gently into his arms. Despite his strength, her limp form made navigating the uneven ground difficult. Stones rained down from the trembling walls, and a bolt of energy streaked past his shoulder.
With the temple falling apart behind them, Luke managed to stumble outside, the sunlight filtering through the trees as he made his way to open ground. She was still, her breath faint, her face streaked with dust and blood.

Luke paused, checking her injuries. The scrape on her temple still bled, and under her cloak, he could feel the bruises forming from where debris had struck her. He didn’t know her name, her history, or the depth of her loyalty to the Emperor—but she had been willing to die to protect whatever secrets lay in that temple.

He keyed his commlink, signaling his squadron. “I’m outside the temple. I have… a prisoner,” he said, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. “She’s injured. Medical support is needed.”

A crackling response came through. “Copy that, Commander Skywalker. Medical team en route. Extraction team in position.”

As he waited, Luke glanced down at her lightsaber. Even without its glow, he could still see the flash of her face—resolute, cold, illuminated by the purple hue of the blade. He wondered what it meant. Jedi had once carried sabers of all colors, but he thought the Sith always used red. Maybe her loyalty wasn’t as absolute as her title suggested. The thought sent a faint spark of hope through him.
Soon, the unmistakable hum of a shuttle reached his ears. Adjusting his hold, Luke carried her toward the medics who rushed to meet them. He handed her off, and they began working swiftly to assess her injuries. He followed them onto the shuttle, his gaze lingering on her as they prepared for the journey to the Rebel base.

He couldn't shake the feeling that this woman, whoever she was, was going to be important. 

Chapter Text

Reality returned to Mara in fragments, slow and disorienting. The hum of machinery reached her first, steady and faintly irritating. Her body registered next—aching muscles, faint bruises on her wrists, and a dull throbbing in her head. Her eyes opened reluctantly, taking in a sterile white ceiling, harsh lighting, and the faintly metallic smell of antiseptic.

She remained still, her instincts urging her not to betray awareness until she had more information. Restraints bound her wrists and ankles, firm but not cruelly tight. An IV line connected to her arm dripped steadily, and a glance to the side revealed medical monitors tracking her condition. Everything about the setting screamed Rebel Alliance—practical and devoid of unnecessary comfort.

Her jaw tightened as she processed her predicament. Her last clear memory was the temple collapsing around her, the searing heat, and the suffocating weight of dust and stone. She’d been pinned, trapped, with no way out. And then—him. The stranger. He had pulled her from the rubble, dragging her into a hazy oblivion that had ended here.

Why? she wondered. The Empire never dealt in charity, and she doubted the Rebellion did either. They must have an agenda, something they wanted from her.

Her first instinct was to probe her surroundings with the Force, but when she tried, the connection flickered weakly. She gritted her teeth, frustrated at the gap where her once-reliable abilities had been. The collapse hadn’t just shaken her physically—it had disrupted her mental balance. Without the Force as a steadying presence, she felt exposed, as if a part of her had been stripped away.

The sound of the door sliding open broke her concentration. Her body tensed automatically, muscles coiling in preparation for confrontation. The same man stepped inside, his movements calm and deliberate. Mara’s sharp green eyes locked on him, taking in his unassuming appearance now that she could see him more clearly—blond hair, plain clothing, a surprisingly youthful face. He didn’t look like the Rebel soldiers she’d fought before, nor did he carry himself like one. Yet something about him made her instincts flare.

“You’re awake,” he said, stopping a few paces from her bed. His voice was calm, his tone measured, as if he was trying not to startle her.

Mara didn’t answer, choosing to study him in silence. The man didn’t flinch under her scrutiny. Instead, he looked at her with a strange mix of curiosity and concern, as though she were a puzzle he was trying to solve.

“You were hurt pretty badly,” he continued. “We brought you here to make sure you’d recover.”

Mara’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Spare me the benevolence. You didn’t save me out of kindness.”

He didn’t rise to the bait, his expression unchanging. “You would have died if we hadn’t pulled you out of the temple. Whatever else you think, that’s the truth.”

“Should I thank you?” Mara shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t expect me to grovel for your mercy.”

“I don’t expect anything,” he replied evenly. “But I’d rather you lived than died. That’s all.”

Her hands flexed against the restraints. “And now I’m just another prisoner for you to interrogate?”

“No,” he said simply. “You’re here to recover.”

The bluntness of his response threw her off balance for a moment. She expected manipulation, maybe even threats, but his tone lacked malice. It didn’t make her trust him—far from it—but it was unusual enough to give her pause.

“And then what?” she pressed. “You think I’ll switch sides? That I’ll see the light and join your rebellion?”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her as if considering his response. “I don’t think anything right now. I’m just here to check on you.”

The neutrality in his voice grated on her nerves, his calm demeanor bordering on patronizing. He didn’t seem like a man with power, yet he spoke as if her fate was entirely under control. It made her feel even more trapped.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

For the first time, he hesitated, as if debating whether to answer. Then, with a faint sigh, he said, “My name is Luke. Luke Skywalker.”

Mara’s breath caught. The name hung in the air like a crack of thunder, reverberating in her mind. Skywalker. It was impossible to miss the connection. Her training, her missions, her every encounter with the Emperor had drilled her on key figures of importance. Skywalker wasn’t just a name; it was a legacy.

Her eyes narrowed, her mind racing. Luke Skywalker. The son of Anakin Skywalker—once the Jedi hero of the Clone Wars, now Darth Vader, the Emperor’s enforcer. The revelation was jarring, a puzzle piece falling into place with unsettling clarity. Does he know? she wondered. But the more she studied him, the more she doubted it. His demeanor lacked the weight of that knowledge, his actions too naïve for someone who understood the truth of his parentage.

Mara schooled her expression, hiding the flicker of recognition that threatened to surface. “Skywalker,” she said slowly, as if testing the name on her tongue. “Can’t say I’ve heard of you.”

He didn’t react, simply meeting her gaze with steady calm. “I’m sure you have questions. When you’re ready, we can talk.”

She suppressed a bitter laugh. Questions? The irony of his words was almost too much. She had far more answers than he likely realized, and each one came with a danger he couldn’t begin to fathom.

Luke shifted, his calm gaze never leaving hers. “For now, you need rest. You were badly hurt, and the medics are doing their best to help you recover.”

As he turned toward the door, Mara’s voice cut through the silence. “What makes you think you’re doing me a favor? You think kindness will get you anywhere?”

He paused, glancing back at her. “I don’t think anything. I just do what I believe is right.”

With that, he left the room, the door sliding shut behind him. Mara stared at the empty space he’d occupied, her mind churning with the weight of his words—and the name he’d given her.

Luke Skywalker. The son of Darth Vader.

A cold shiver ran through her. The boy had no idea of the shadow hanging over him. No idea that he was tangled in the Emperor’s plans, whether he wanted to be or not. She clenched her fists against the restraints, her mind already working to piece together what this new information could mean.

For now, she was a prisoner. But knowledge was power. And Mara Jade knew how to wield it better than most. The gears in her head began to turn with an idea: She had failed her mission, even if she escaped now she was dead. But if she could bring Skywalker to the Emperor, do what even Vader had not yet been able to, perhaps it would be enough to save her. 

She settled back into the bed and allowed her eyes to fall shut. Skywalker was right about one thing: she would need her rest. 

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Luke walked down the sterile corridor of the medical bay, his footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet. His thoughts were tangled, still processing the encounter with the woman in the room behind him. Mara, they’d said her name was. High Command had pulled all the relevant information about her as soon as they’d arrived—her history as the Emperor’s Hand, her covert operations for the Empire, and her deadly skillset. From assassination to espionage, she was one of the most dangerous operatives to ever serve the Emperor, and that made her both a threat and a mystery. Luke hadn’t expected someone like her to be so... composed, so measured, when he met her in person. The woman who had been trained in the shadows of the Empire was nothing like the raging enemies he’d fought before. There was a cold intelligence about her that unsettled him.

As he reached the end of the hall, R2-D2 beeped and whistled, rolling toward him on the smooth floor. The little droid’s blue and white dome glinted in the overhead lights, a comforting presence after the uncertainty of the past few hours.

“I don’t know, R2,” Luke muttered, shaking his head. “I’m not sure what to think about her. She’s... complicated.”

The droid let out a questioning beep, and Luke ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “I thought seeing the temple was going to help me. Give me some sort of idea of what I should be doing. But it’s never that simple, is it?”

R2’s head tilted slightly, as if to say, No, it’s never that simple.

Luke couldn’t help but smile, though it was a weary one. He turned his attention back to the hallway, looking out through the base’s entrance where the stars twinkled in the distance. The gentle hum of the machinery and the base itself faded into the background as he let his mind wander back to the moment he had discovered Mara in the ruins of the Jedi Temple. He’d never seen anyone like her—her strength, her sharpness. 

He glanced down at R2 again, noticing the droid’s usual beeping now sounded a little more anxious, as though it could sense his unease. The little astromech had been through quite an ordeal himself, pulled from the wreckage of the temple by the same team that had rescued Luke. He had no idea where R2 had been when the walls of the temple had started collapsing, but he wasn’t surprised to find the droid among the wreckage. R2 had always been more than a companion—he was resourceful, more capable than any droid Luke had met before. It made sense that he would have survived.

“I’m glad you’re okay, R2,” Luke said softly, reaching down to pat the droid’s dome affectionately. “You were a real lifesaver in there.”

R2 responded with a series of joyful beeps, clearly pleased by the recognition.

But his smile faded quickly as his thoughts turned back to Mara. She was still in the med bay, recovering, and he found himself wondering more and more about her. She was clearly trained—her eyes, the way she moved, the defiance in her voice when she spoke to him—it all pointed to someone who had seen conflict, who had fought and survived in a way that few others could. And the way she’d looked at him when he’d told her his name, Luke Skywalker … the brief flicker of recognition, mixed with something else—suspicion, perhaps? It made his skin crawl.

She had recognized it immediately, though she hadn’t said as much. There had been a flicker in her eyes, a brief shift, as though she were doing the mental math. Luke didn’t know what conclusions she’d come to—he didn’t even know how much she knew about him or his family. But one thing was clear: she knew something he didn’t. 

Was it something about his father? Anakin Skywalker . The memories of Ben’s voice, of the late Jedi Master’s cryptic warnings about his father and the Empire, came flooding back. Ben had spoken of Anakin Skywalker with reverence. Before the Dark Times. Before Vader .

As he stood lost in thought, he didn’t hear the soft footsteps approaching until they were right behind him. He turned to find Leia standing there.

“Luke,” Leia said softly, her eyes scanning his face with the same careful look she always wore when she sensed he was troubled. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Luke smiled slightly, relieved to see her. “Hey, Leia.” He straightened, brushing a hand through his hair. “I needed a minute. It’s been... a lot, you know?”

Leia gave him a knowing look. “So, what happened? What’s she like?”

Luke ran his hand through his hair nervously. “I don’t know. She’s different from what I expected. She seems…calmer. I feel like if I could get through to her…”

He trailed off.

Leia narrowed her eyes. “She’s dangerous Luke. She’s not just any Imperial soldier, she works for the Emperor personally. And you said yourself she used the dark side like a Sith-”

“She’s not a Sith.” Luke cut her off quickly. “I know that for sure.”

Leia studied him for a moment, her brow furrowing in concern. “How can you be sure about that?” she asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.

Luke looked away, his expression serious. “I don’t know how, but I’m certain. She may have been trained in dark side techniques, but she’s not a Sith. I can feel it.”

Leia sighed, her arms crossing as she processed his words. “I don’t know, Luke. The fact that she’s so tied to the Emperor—the fact that she was his personal agent—changes everything. She may not be a Sith, but she’s still dangerous. I’ve seen what people like her can do.”

Luke ran a hand over his face, frustration creeping into his voice. “I get it, Leia. I’m not blind to the risks. But there’s something... different about her. When I was talking to her, I felt like there was a part of her that didn’t want to be here. That didn’t want to be on the side of the Empire.”

Leia’s eyes softened slightly, but she remained cautious. “Luke, I know you want to believe that there’s some good left in people. But she’s a weapon of the Empire. She’s been trained to kill without hesitation, to follow orders without question. I don’t want to see you get hurt because you’re trying to see the good in her.”

Luke met her gaze, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m not trying to see the good in her, Leia. I’m trying to understand her. I think there’s more to her story, and if there’s a chance she could be an ally, I want to know it. But I won’t let my guard down. Not with someone like her. I just... I need to know more.”

Leia looked at him for a long moment, her expression softening with understanding, though a touch of worry still lingered in her eyes. “I can’t tell you what to do, Luke. But I don’t like the idea of you getting too close to her. The last thing we need right now is for the Empire to use you against us.”

Luke nodded, his gaze distant as he thought of Mara again. He knew Leia was right to be cautious, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to her. A part of him wasn’t sure if he was seeing what he wanted to see, but he had to know. He had to find out if there was a way to reach her.

“I’ll be careful,” he said finally, though doubt flickered in his voice. “I’ll talk to her again. But only when I’m sure it’s safe. We need to understand who she really is before we make any decisions.”

Leia didn’t reply immediately. She reached out, squeezing his arm lightly. “Just don’t let your guard down, Luke. The stakes are too high.”

“I won’t,” he said quietly, though the certainty in his voice was tempered by the weight of his thoughts.

Leia gave him one last searching look before turning to walk away. Luke stood there for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on the stars outside, his mind racing with unanswered questions. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Mara Jade was a key to something much larger than he could comprehend.

Chapter Text

The meeting room was dim, lit only by the flickering holograms of the star map and the faint light of the consoles along the walls. The air was heavy, filled with a palpable tension that clung to every breath. Around the central table sat the leaders of the Rebel Alliance: General Rieekan, Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, and other senior members of High Command. They spoke in hushed, deliberate tones, their voices reverberating in the otherwise silent space.

“She’s too dangerous to keep alive,” General Rieekan said, breaking the quiet. His voice was steady but firm, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Mara Jade was the Emperor’s Hand. Her very existence is a threat to everything we’ve built.”

Mon Mothma leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful but troubled. “We are the Rebellion, General. If we start executing prisoners because of what they might do, how are we any different from the Empire we’re fighting against?”

Admiral Ackbar clicked his beak in frustration. “This is not about morality, Mon Mothma. This is about survival. Every moment she lives is a risk. She has knowledge of our operations, our locations. If she escapes—or worse, if the Emperor somehow recalls her to his service—what do you think will happen to us?”

“We could question her further,” suggested one of the junior officers, a slender woman with a data pad in hand. “There might be more to learn. Intelligence gathered from her could be invaluable.”

“She’s trained to resist interrogation,” Rieekan replied sharply. “The likelihood of extracting reliable information is slim. We cannot afford to gamble.”

Mon Mothma held up a hand, silencing the room. Her voice was calm but carried the weight of authority. “We need to consider every aspect of this decision. Mara Jade represents an opportunity as much as a danger. If there’s a chance to turn her against the Empire, we must explore it.”

Ackbar slammed a webbed hand against the table, his frustration boiling over. “And if she turns on us? If she’s feeding information to the Empire even now? The Emperor’s Hand is not someone we can simply rehabilitate. She was trained from birth to serve him. She is a weapon.”

The room fell into silence once more, the leaders exchanging glances as the gravity of the situation weighed on them. Finally, Mon Mothma sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Let us vote. We will decide this together, as we always do.”

One by one, the members of High Command cast their votes. The final tally was clear: the majority agreed that Mara was too dangerous to live.

When the decision was announced, no one cheered. The room emptied in heavy silence, each leader leaving with a quiet sense of unease. Mon Mothma lingered for a moment longer, her gaze fixed on the star map projected in front of her.

“May the Force forgive us,” she murmured before finally leaving the room.

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Luke Skywalker sat cross-legged on the floor of his quarters, his eyes closed as he tried to find some semblance of calm through meditation. The faint hum of the Rebel base’s machinery filled the room, a background noise that usually helped him focus. But today, his thoughts were too chaotic.

Images of Mara Jade flashed through his mind: her fiery red hair, the defiance in her emerald eyes, the sharpness of her tone when she’d spoken to him. She was nothing like the Sith he had faced, nor like the cold, faceless Imperials he had fought on the battlefield. She was something else entirely—something he couldn’t quite understand.

He exhaled deeply, opening his eyes as frustration mounted. The Jedi teachings spoke of finding balance, of letting go of attachment and fear. But how could he let go when the questions surrounding Mara gnawed at him, demanding answers?

The chime at his door broke his thoughts. He stood, brushing his hands against his tunic. “Come in.”

The door slid open, revealing Wedge Antilles. Luke immediately noticed his friend’s tense posture, the way his eyes flicked around the room as if checking for eavesdroppers.

“Wedge?” Luke asked, concern creeping into his voice. “What’s wrong?”

Wedge stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Luke, I... I came straight from the High Command meeting. You need to hear this.”

Luke’s heart sank. He could tell from Wedge’s tone that the news wasn’t good. “What is it?”

Wedge looked him in the eye, his expression grim. “They’ve decided. High Command... they voted to execute Mara.”

The words hit Luke like a physical blow. He felt his breath catch in his throat, his mind racing. “Execute her?” he repeated, disbelief and anger mingling in his voice. “How could they—why would they do that?”

“They think she’s too dangerous to keep alive,” Wedge explained. “They’re afraid of what she could do if she escapes—or if the Empire finds a way to use her against us. I don’t agree with it, but... they’re scared, Luke. And fear makes people do things they wouldn’t normally do.”

Luke turned away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process the news. He felt a storm of emotions swirling within him: anger, frustration, sadness. “This isn’t who we are, Wedge,” he said finally, his voice trembling with conviction. “We’re supposed to be better than this. We’re fighting the Empire because they treat people like tools, like disposable assets. If we start doing the same, what’s the point?”

Wedge sighed. “I know. And I thought Mon Mothma might sway them, but even she agreed in the end. They think it’s the only way.”

“It’s not,” Luke said firmly, turning back to face his friend. “There’s always another way. We just have to find it.”

Wedge hesitated, then stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Luke, I’m telling you this because I trust you. But you need to be careful. If you go against High Command on this, it could cost you. Not just your position—everything. The Rebellion’s in a fragile place right now. We can’t afford internal conflict.”

Luke nodded, though his mind was already racing. “Thanks for telling me, Wedge. I’ll figure something out.”

Wedge placed a hand on his shoulder. “Just... be smart about it, okay? The last thing I want is to see you get hurt because of this.”

“I will,” Luke promised, though the determination in his eyes left little doubt about his intentions.

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Luke Skywalker paced in his quarters, his mind racing. He had heard rumors of High Command’s deliberations, but the actual news hit him harder than he expected. Mara Jade’s execution wasn’t just a decision—it was a betrayal of everything the Rebellion claimed to stand for.

As his thoughts churned, he remembered an obscure policy he’d once come across during his time studying Rebel protocols. The policy had been established early in the war, designed to protect the spouses of Rebel soldiers from being targeted or executed under dire circumstances. It was an antiquated measure, rarely invoked and nearly forgotten, but still valid as far as he knew.

The thought took root. If he married Mara in secret, the policy could save her life. The idea was audacious, perhaps even absurd—but it might work.

Before he acted, he knew he needed guidance. Leia. She would understand, and more importantly, she would be honest with him.

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Luke found Leia in her quarters, bent over a console as she reviewed reports from various Rebel outposts. The flickering light of the screen cast a faint glow across her features, highlighting the furrow in her brow.

“Leia,” Luke said softly, stepping into the room.

She turned, her face brightening momentarily before concern clouded her eyes. “Luke. What’s wrong?”

He hesitated, then sat across from her, his expression serious. “It’s about Mara Jade. High Command has decided to execute her.”

Leia’s breath caught, and she leaned back in her chair. “I heard whispers about the vote, but I didn’t think they’d go through with it. Are you okay?”

“No,” Luke admitted. “I can’t let this happen. It’s wrong, Leia. We’re supposed to be better than the Empire, and this... this is just murder.”

Leia studied him, her gaze steady. “What are you planning to do?”

“There’s an old policy in the Alliance,” Luke explained. “It protects Rebel soldiers’ spouses from execution. If Mara and I were married, they couldn’t legally carry out the sentence.”

Leia’s eyebrows shot up. “Married? Luke, that’s... extreme. You barely know her.”

“I know,” Luke said, running a hand through his hair. “But she doesn’t deserve to die, Leia. I can’t explain it, but I feel like there’s more to her—something the Alliance isn’t seeing. If I don’t do this, she’ll be killed, and we’ll lose any chance of finding out who she really is.”

Leia leaned forward, placing a hand on his arm. “Luke, you have a good heart, but this is a huge risk. High Command won’t take kindly to you going behind their backs. Are you sure about this?”

“I am,” Luke said firmly. “If I don’t try, I’ll never forgive myself. I just... I need your support, Leia. Even if you think I’m crazy.”

Leia sighed, a small hum escaping her lips. “You are crazy. But you’re also my best friend, and I trust your judgement. If this is what you feel you have to do, then I’ll back you up. Just... be careful, okay? The Rebellion can’t afford to lose you.”

Luke smiled, relief washing over him. “Thanks, Leia. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“Do you think she will go along with it?” Leia asked.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.” Luke sighed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luke made his way through the sterile halls of the medbay, his boots echoing softly against the durasteel floor. The sharp antiseptic smell hit him as he approached the guarded room where Mara Jade was being held. His heart pounded with every step, the weight of what he was about to propose bearing down on him.

Two armed guards stood outside Mara’s door, their blasters held loosely but ready. One of them, a grizzled older man with a scar across his cheek, gave Luke a cursory glance and stepped aside.

“She’s been quiet,” the guard muttered. “Too quiet, if you ask me.”

Luke nodded absently and entered the room. The door slid shut behind him with a hiss, sealing him in.

Mara Jade lay on the narrow bed, her arms crossed and her legs stretched out casually. Her fiery red hair was unkempt, but her sharp green eyes were anything but dull. They flicked toward him the moment he stepped inside, and she smirked faintly.

“Skywalker,” she said, her tone a blade wrapped in silk. “Back to deliver my death sentence personally?”

Luke hesitated, searching her face. Despite the casual demeanor, there was a tension in her posture, a readiness to spring into action at a moment’s notice. She was cornered, but she wasn’t beaten.

He pulled a chair closer to her bed, lowering himself into it deliberately. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m here to save your life.”

Mara raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of amusement in her expression. “Oh, this should be good. Go on, Jedi. Enlighten me.”

Luke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “They’re planning to execute you,” he said bluntly.

Her smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before it returned, sharper than before. “Well, that’s not surprising. Your precious Rebellion has its fair share of hypocrites. So, what’s the plan? Plead my case to your leaders and hope they suddenly grow a conscience?”

“No,” Luke replied, his tone resolute. “I have a different idea. There’s an old policy in the Alliance—one that protects Rebel soldiers’ spouses from execution. If we’re married, they can’t touch you.”

Mara blinked, her composure cracking as genuine surprise flickered across her face. “Married? Are you insane?”

“Maybe,” Luke admitted, sitting back in the chair. “But it’s the only way to keep you alive. I know you don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you. But I believe there’s more to you than what High Command sees. If we do this, it buys us time—time for you to prove them wrong.”

Mara was silent for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. It was as if she were dissecting every word, every nuance of his expression.

“And what do you get out of this, Skywalker?” she asked finally, her voice low and cutting. “Aside from ruining your spotless reputation?”

“A chance to do what’s right,” Luke said simply.

Mara let out a bitter laugh, leaning back against the pillows. “You really are something, you know that? Naïve, idealistic, and just plain reckless. You’re willing to throw away your standing with your precious Rebellion for someone like me?”

“It’s not about standing,” Luke said, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s about giving you a chance—a real chance. Whatever you were in the past, you’re not the Emperor’s Hand anymore. I see that, even if no one else does.”

For the first time, her mask of sarcasm and defiance cracked. A flicker of something raw—perhaps disbelief, perhaps vulnerability—passed through her eyes before she quickly buried it.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Fine. If this is the only way to keep breathing, I’ll do it. But don’t think for a second that I owe you anything.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Luke said, relief flooding his voice. “I just want to give you a chance.”

Mara’s lips curled into a faint smirk, though her eyes remained guarded. “Then let’s hope your plan works. Because if it doesn’t, we’re both dead.”

Chapter Text

Luke found Leia in the hangar bay just before nightfall. She stood near the Falcon, deep in conversation with Han Solo, who had his arms crossed and was shaking his head at something she’d just said. R2-D2 beeped softly behind Luke, trailing him like a shadow, but the droid remained at a distance as Luke approached the pair.

Leia saw him first. “Luke,” she said, her voice a touch tighter than usual. “We were just talking about you.”

Han turned, a lopsided grin already tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, and judging by that look on your face, I was right—you are about to do something incredibly stupid.”

Luke gave a weary smile. “Depends on your definition of stupid.”

Leia crossed her arms. “You’re going through with it, then?”

Han looked between them, his grin fading. “Wait—what are we talking about?”

Luke glanced around the hangar, then lowered his voice. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

Han snorted. “That bad, huh?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They moved into a side room—a converted flight briefing office with stripped-down walls and scattered datapads. Leia closed the door behind them, while Han leaned against the table, arms crossed again.

“So,” Han said. “Let me get this straight. Leia tells me you’re marrying the Imperial assassin who tried to kill you six days ago.”

Luke winced slightly. “She’s not—”

“ Former assassin , then,” Han corrected. “Sorry. Forgot everyone who meets you is automatically redeemed.”

Leia shot him a look. “Han.”

“No, it’s okay,” Luke said. He took a breath. “I’m not doing this because I think Mara’s changed overnight. I’m doing it because the Alliance has already decided to kill her, and they’re not giving her a fair chance to prove she’s more than what she used to be.”

Han raised an eyebrow. “So, naturally, you decided marriage was the logical step.”

“There’s a policy in the Alliance Charter,” Luke said. “Old one. Section Forty-Three, Subsection B. Leia found it back when we were researching draft exemptions on Arkanis. It says that Rebel soldiers’ spouses can’t be executed or detained without Senate council review. Since the council doesn’t exist anymore, it’s basically a legal shield.”

“Sounds like a loophole.”

“It is,” Leia admitted. “But it’s legal. And High Command won’t be able to act without sparking a political storm.”

Han looked between them, clearly trying to decide if this was the craziest thing he’d ever heard—or just the most Luke thing ever.

“You’re marrying her to keep her alive,” Han said slowly. “Not because you’re in love with her.”

Luke’s face remained steady. “That’s right.”

Han scoffed. “You sure that’s all it is?”

Luke didn’t answer immediately. A silence stretched between them before he finally said, “She deserves a chance. Just like you did.”

Han blinked at that. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue.

Han stared at him for a long beat. Then he pushed off the table. “I hope you know what you’re doing, kid.”

Luke gave a half-smile. “Me too.”

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Mara sat on the edge of the narrow bed, her fingers pressed tightly against her knees as if grounding herself to the cold durasteel beneath. The sterile scent of antiseptic and recycled air filled the small room, but it barely registered. Her mind was elsewhere.

Across from her, Luke Skywalker settled into a chair, his eyes searching, expectant. She didn’t meet his gaze right away. Instead, she studied the worn fabric of the chair, the faint scuff marks on the floor.

“So,” Luke said softly. “This is actually happening...”

Mara’s lips tightened. Yes, it would happen — a formality dictated by desperation and politics, nothing more. She was acutely aware of what the marriage meant for him, for the Rebellion. But what it meant for her? That was another story. Would it be a chance for her to get closer to him? Closer to taking him down and perhaps regaining favor with her master… Or would it simply be a way to prolong her existence another few weeks? Less than that likely, assuming Rebel High Command still had some sense left. It was unlikely they would let Skywalker’s scheme sidestep their judgement that easily, but it was worth a try. At least until she could come up with a plan of her own.

She finally lifted her eyes, sharp and guarded. “It’s necessary,” she said flatly. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

Luke’s tone softened, and he gave a small shake of his head. “It’s the only way to keep you alive.”

She nodded once, carefully neutral. There was no warmth in her acceptance, no trust offered. That wasn’t her style.

Luke searched her face, probably trying to find some flicker of doubt or gratitude. If he expected that, he’d be disappointed.

Mara thought of the Emperor, the place she once held by his side—the power she once wielded. The power that had failed her when she’d called to it, leaving her defenseless and weak; Two things that the Emperor did not tolerate in his servants. 

But, she considered, perhaps the Force did work in mysterious ways. After all, her failure had led her here. Led her closer to Skywalker than anyone else had succeeded in getting. If she didn’t know any better she’d think he was almost beginning to trust her. So perhaps all was not lost. 

All that was left to do now was play the part he wanted: the reformed captive clinging to life. Well, likely not completely reformed, that would be too fast and too suspicious. But open to being reformed… 

He spoke again. “I don’t expect you to trust me. This isn’t about changing who you are overnight.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. She said nothing, letting his words hang between them.

She remained still, folded in on herself, eyes distant and unreadable. Inside, she weighed every possibility, every risk. The Rebellion was not her home. Luke Skywalker was not her ally.

But survival required patience. She would play this game, accept the marriage, keep her secrets close.

When Luke extended his hand, she regarded it coolly for a long moment before slipping her fingers into his.

No warmth passed between them. Only the cold agreement of two people forced into an uneasy alliance—each guarding their own truths.

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The base was quiet in the late hours, but every corner seemed to hum with the latent threat of discovery. Han Solo crouched in the shadowed alcove just outside the medbay, his breath steady despite the tension coiling in his chest. Beside him, R2-D2 emitted a soft series of beeps and whistles, its dome swiveling with precise awareness.

Earlier, Han had been briefed quietly in the dim light of the makeshift briefing room. He’d grinned, half amused, half exasperated.

“Breaking someone out of a cell for a wedding? This one takes the cake.” He’d laughed.

Why they couldn’t just hold the wedding in the medbay where she was being kept was beyond him. But after the last few months hanging with the rebels he’d learned better than to question the princess when she got something in her head. Unless of course he wanted to engage in lengthy verbal sparring, which while often entertaining, seemed uncalled for in this situation. It wasn’t his wedding after all…

So the ceremony would take place on the upper observation deck. Leia, as a presumed reigning monarch by rights of survivorship technically had the authority to officiate marriages. Han was a bit fuzzy on how exactly that authority worked given that the throne her royal claim was linked to was, well… But that was one subject he’d never dared to broach with her, nor had anyone else to his knowledge. So her royal privileges continued unchallenged, and her role remained recognized at least within the Alliance. 

“Alright, Artoo,” Han whispered, “No turning back now.”

The plan was simple but risky: disable the external locks, slip past the patrols, and extract Mara without raising the alarms. No room for mistakes.

Han pressed his hand against the cold durasteel wall, feeling for the small access panel R2 had identified earlier during their reconnaissance. The panel’s cover popped open with a quiet hiss as R2 extended a manipulator arm, connecting to the ship’s security interface.

Beeping and flickering lights danced on the droid’s console as R2 hacked into the medbay’s door controls. Han’s eyes darted nervously down the hallway — one step, one wrong move, and all their fates would be sealed.

After a few tense moments, the door panel slid open smoothly, revealing the sterile interior beyond.

Mara waited on a narrow cot, her fiery red hair tangled but her posture calm and unreadable. Her sharp green eyes locked on Han as he approached, lips pressed into a firm line.

“I assume, given the breaking and entering, you’re not here to execute me?” She said smoothly, though her voice betrayed a hint of tension.

Han gave her a sly grin and held out his hand. “Han Solo. Self-appointed best man.”

He could have sworn that the girl in front of him almost smiled at that. She took his hand and let him pull her to stand.

“Mara Jade. Not-self-appointed bride.”

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As they moved, the corridor’s silence was broken only by the soft hum of the base’s life support and their careful footsteps. Around the next bend, R2 extended a small grappling hook, gently snagging a security panel near a guard post.

Han watched as the droid’s circuits bypassed the alarm system — no alerts, no triggers. The patrols would never know.

They slipped into the maintenance shafts, narrow and claustrophobic, but the only way without risking detection. When they slipped out a few floors up and a respectable amount of wrong turns later, the shaft opened in a darkened observation deck, where Luke and Leia stood waiting. 

Two of the most wanted people in the Empire stood together in front of a large panoramic window that looked out over what Mara assumed was the planet they were on, although at this hour and with no outside lights, there was nothing but their own dim reflections staring back. 

Leia turned first. Her gown was modest but formal, something soft and pale that shimmered faintly in the low light. She held a small datapad and wore a look that balanced command and solemnity.

Luke looked different — not in uniform, but dressed simply, dark tunic belted at the waist, his lightsaber absent. His expression was unreadable, but the second Mara stepped out of the shaft, his eyes locked onto hers.

Mara hesitated.

It was only a half-second pause. Barely perceptible. But it was there.

Han noticed it as he stepped aside, giving her the room to walk forward under her own power. R2 let out a low chirp and rolled quietly toward Luke, positioning himself near Leia’s side.

Mara slowly stepped out into the open space. The deck was wide, the stars stretching out around them like a backdrop for something ancient and sacred. It felt... wrong. Or maybe just surreal.

She moved toward Luke with careful steps. Her hands were no longer in restraints — Han had removed those two corridors ago — but she held them loosely at her sides, unsure of where to put them. Her eyes flicked to Leia, then to the datapad, then back to Luke.

“This is real?” she asked softly, the question meant for Luke but spoken more to the room. To herself.

“Yes,” Luke said. “It has to be.”

Leia’s voice was calm and clear when she spoke. “The Alliance’s protocol recognizes marriages between soldiers as legally binding under wartime conditions regardless of current or former allegiance. You both understand that, yes?”

Mara nodded, her eyes never leaving Luke’s. “I understand.”

Luke nodded once. “We’re ready.”

Leia inhaled slowly, straightened her posture, and looked between them with all the gravitas of someone born to royalty — even in secret, even in wartime.

“Then by the power granted to me as a Princess of Alderaan and ranking officer of the Alliance, I officiate this union not in tradition, but in defiance. You stand together now not only to survive, but to challenge the injustice that has forced this.”

She looked at Mara first. “Do you consent to this marriage, of your own will, with full understanding of its implications?”

Mara paused, the slightest crease forming between her brows.

“I consent,” she said quietly. Not soft, but measured — like she was testing the words before fully owning them.

Leia turned to Luke. “And do you?”

“I do,” Luke said, steady and sure.

Leia pressed her thumb to the datapad, validating the entry. “Then it is done. By the authority vested in me by the Rebellion and the legacy of Alderaan, I pronounce you married. May this bond protect you both.”

There was no kiss. No touch. Just the weight of the moment hanging between them as the stars turned slowly beyond the glass.

Mara looked at Luke, her expression unreadable — something between reluctant gratitude and wary distance.

Luke nodded slightly, as if to acknowledge the truth of it: nothing had really changed between them. Not yet. But the galaxy would think otherwise.

Han cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well. That was... somethin’. Guess we’d better get her back before anyone notices.”

Leia gave a small nod, the ceremony fading into the silence that followed.

Mara turned, eyes still flicking between the stars outside and the man beside her.

“Let’s just hope it was worth it,” she murmured under her breath — and followed Han back into the shadows of the base.