Hers (Luke/Mara, I for Ineluctable)
Title: Hers
Author: Julia (juliesaintjust and iloveyouiknow)
Fandom: Star Wars
Medium: movie
Genre: het, AU
Pairing: L/M
Theme: I is for ineluctable (see note)
Disclaimer: I don't own Luke, I don't own Mara, I don't own Star Wars, and you don't want to know how the movies (not to mention the EU) would be like if I did. They're all George Lucas'. I made no money out of this.
He dreamt of princesses and pirates and ships and fights on the point of a blaster, of spice and smuggling and the long waiting moments where spacers talked their work away for the gusts of alcohol into their glasses. He dreamt of her- of the determined voice of a girl in white, of the certainty of having seen her dying into the air of reality, years before- she had her life under the water of his sleep, she changed and evolved and loved him, and in some strange moment he was about to tell her foolish things such as I love you, or you’re my sister, and most of that you were my first kill, Leia, when his education got the best of him and restrained his voice, even in his dream self.
And every time he dreamt of the torture of not finding Mara, of being alone and worse, to live her enemy. Hate, passion, fights, something that killed his soul if he had any and made him reach for her body to know that in truth she was still there, often watching him turn into the silk of their bed, sometimes dreaming her night away, peaceful companion to his second life. There were more nuances on the paths his dreaming came into the relationships to her- lover, killer, victim, prey, goddess, even that time he had dreamt of being an aged farmer and having an epiphany of her, the beautiful, the charming, the strange empress, at times asking for his help, at times ignoring him, and how terrible was it to Luke to know that in another reality they at least came in contact, that in his reality she was his young love, his companion, a part of his being and life.
He loved her, that was no way to change it, and that love was one of his talismans through the incoherent mists of those dreams that came and went. Even in the darkness of some of the scenarios being sure that she would have been there was an odd leitmotif.
So he dreamt of the impossible beauty of hers, or of her distance and her proximity and of how things would have changed on the strict line of reality and maybe. Her kaleidoscope, he used to call them the few times he dare to outspoke the existence of these dreams to her in words (not that she couldn’t sense at least some of his visions, torn into his conscience as her spirit still was)- more than anything and anybody else, more than a mother he had lived without and a father he had left too soon (or too late, into the words of his Master), more than ruling a Galaxy, that was the crux of those paths the Force had blocked before they came into his life.
He woke up as the stream of lights outside the transparisteel was growing stronger, before dawn. His mouth still faked the presence of wine and morsels he had eaten hours before, hasty dinner during a study session. She was pressed against his body, red hair tangled against the pillow, the curve of the mouth pressed on his shoulder, teeth baring against the skin. The room was still in the darkness of the other wings of the imperial palace. Mara sighed as he cradled her nearer. “Love you-” Love you too. She embraced him, still sleeping, flesh cooler tangling him to sheets and flesh and life. Her skin went alabaster into the glory of sun.
note: yes, that’s what ineluctable gave to me, in a straight wat because Luke can’t help but dream, and in another because there’s nothing more ineluctable than possibility in one who knows the currents of the Force.
Author: Julia (juliesaintjust and iloveyouiknow)
Fandom: Star Wars
Medium: movie
Genre: het, AU
Pairing: L/M
Theme: I is for ineluctable (see note)
Disclaimer: I don't own Luke, I don't own Mara, I don't own Star Wars, and you don't want to know how the movies (not to mention the EU) would be like if I did. They're all George Lucas'. I made no money out of this.
He dreamt of princesses and pirates and ships and fights on the point of a blaster, of spice and smuggling and the long waiting moments where spacers talked their work away for the gusts of alcohol into their glasses. He dreamt of her- of the determined voice of a girl in white, of the certainty of having seen her dying into the air of reality, years before- she had her life under the water of his sleep, she changed and evolved and loved him, and in some strange moment he was about to tell her foolish things such as I love you, or you’re my sister, and most of that you were my first kill, Leia, when his education got the best of him and restrained his voice, even in his dream self.
And every time he dreamt of the torture of not finding Mara, of being alone and worse, to live her enemy. Hate, passion, fights, something that killed his soul if he had any and made him reach for her body to know that in truth she was still there, often watching him turn into the silk of their bed, sometimes dreaming her night away, peaceful companion to his second life. There were more nuances on the paths his dreaming came into the relationships to her- lover, killer, victim, prey, goddess, even that time he had dreamt of being an aged farmer and having an epiphany of her, the beautiful, the charming, the strange empress, at times asking for his help, at times ignoring him, and how terrible was it to Luke to know that in another reality they at least came in contact, that in his reality she was his young love, his companion, a part of his being and life.
He loved her, that was no way to change it, and that love was one of his talismans through the incoherent mists of those dreams that came and went. Even in the darkness of some of the scenarios being sure that she would have been there was an odd leitmotif.
So he dreamt of the impossible beauty of hers, or of her distance and her proximity and of how things would have changed on the strict line of reality and maybe. Her kaleidoscope, he used to call them the few times he dare to outspoke the existence of these dreams to her in words (not that she couldn’t sense at least some of his visions, torn into his conscience as her spirit still was)- more than anything and anybody else, more than a mother he had lived without and a father he had left too soon (or too late, into the words of his Master), more than ruling a Galaxy, that was the crux of those paths the Force had blocked before they came into his life.
He woke up as the stream of lights outside the transparisteel was growing stronger, before dawn. His mouth still faked the presence of wine and morsels he had eaten hours before, hasty dinner during a study session. She was pressed against his body, red hair tangled against the pillow, the curve of the mouth pressed on his shoulder, teeth baring against the skin. The room was still in the darkness of the other wings of the imperial palace. Mara sighed as he cradled her nearer. “Love you-” Love you too. She embraced him, still sleeping, flesh cooler tangling him to sheets and flesh and life. Her skin went alabaster into the glory of sun.
note: yes, that’s what ineluctable gave to me, in a straight wat because Luke can’t help but dream, and in another because there’s nothing more ineluctable than possibility in one who knows the currents of the Force.