*glee*
More fantasy genderswap, because ... I like it? Okay, maybe I mostly wanted to tinker with worldbuilding, but not completely! Sometimes you just need a genderswapped fantasy Star Wars AU. And by "you" I mean "I."
Also, just in case anybody feels a desperate curiosity about these things, in my head Helen Mirren would play Obiwa Kenobi. (And Maggie Smith would be Tarkin.)
----------------------
Title: A Land Far, Far Away [... From Anything]
Fanverse: Once Upon A Time (fantasyland genderswap AU)
Blurb: There's no stopping exposition of this magnitude.
Pairings/warnings: none
Length: 644 words
-----------------------
Lucy stared at Obiwa.
“My mother didn’t fight in the wars,” she said. “She was a sailor on a spice freighter.”
Something almost like anger flickered across Obiwa’s face and was gone. “That’s what your aunt told you,” she said evenly. “She didn’t hold with your mother’s ideals, thought she should have stayed here.”
If Mother had listened to her, she’d still be alive, Lucy thought, but without resentment. Of course Anna couldn’t stay here. Far better to die quickly, achieving something great, than to watch your life slip away in bits and pieces.
Lucy understood that. Somehow she always understood her mother.
“You fought in the Blood Wars?” she asked.
Obiwa laughed. “Yes. I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your mother.”
“I wish I’d known her,” Lucy admitted wistfully.
“She was the best rider in the world . . . and a cunning warrior,” said Obiwa. She looked less grieved than - distantly regretful, perhaps, her eyes fixed on something above Lucy’s shoulder.
My mother, Lucy thought.
“I hear you’ve become quite a good horsewoman yourself,” Obiwa added, her smile at once forced and approving.
Lucy blushed and shrugged. She’d been sneaking out to see the horses since she was a little girl. She’d always been good with them and she did ride well - but she was no Anna Skywalker. Not yet.
Obiwa’s voice broke into her thoughts. “And she was a good friend. Which reminds me, I have something here for you.” She went to a large wooden box, pulling out a gleaming sword with such ease that Lucy’s brow furrowed.
“Does it work?”
“This is your mother’s flamesword. She wanted you to have it, when you were old enough, but your aunt wouldn’t allow it.” She placed it in Lucy’s hands, confirming her suspicions that - somehow - it was little heavier than a carving knife.
Lucy swallowed. Obiwa was still talking, but she didn’t hear her. She couldn’t think of anything except that her mother’s hand had once rested where hers did now. It didn’t matter that the weapon seemed unlikely to cut through much more than butter. This was my mother’s. My mother’s.
There was an odd indentation near her hand. Curious, Lucy ran her thumb over it - and three feet of blue-white flames shot out, twining about the blade.
Lucy gasped, but she didn’t scream, and she didn’t drop the sword. After a moment she recovered herself a little, swinging the sword carefully. The flames crackled at her slightest movement, but they didn’t seem to burn, exactly. It had to be some kind of magic.
Magic, in a flaming sword? We’d better call the magistrate and warn him that water’s going to be wet this week! The jeering thought sounded suspiciously like her friend Camus. Well, it was right. Of course the sword was magic, just like Obiwa was.
A witch, Rowena had called her, and Lucy could tell she hadn’t been making that up. Obiwa did have some kind of power, something she could feel even if she couldn’t name it. There was a whole world full of it, just within her reach - her mother’s world and Obiwa’s, that Rowena had kept from her all this time, and -
Rowena. Rowena and Beren. They weren’t - they’d never adopted her. They’d taken care of her because there was nobody else to do it, and they were too kind and dutiful to abandon their own niece. They’d never seen her as theirs and Lucy didn’t think they’d even wanted her to be.
But they’d loved her. They’d brought her up. It didn’t matter that Anna’s daughter might as well have been emblazoned across her forehead. They needed her on the farm, not buried on some far-off battlefield like -
Lucy’s throat felt dry. She moved her thumb, letting the hilt swallow the flames, and looked directly at Obiwa.
“How did my mother die?”
Also, just in case anybody feels a desperate curiosity about these things, in my head Helen Mirren would play Obiwa Kenobi. (And Maggie Smith would be Tarkin.)
----------------------
Title: A Land Far, Far Away [... From Anything]
Fanverse: Once Upon A Time (fantasyland genderswap AU)
Blurb: There's no stopping exposition of this magnitude.
Pairings/warnings: none
Length: 644 words
-----------------------
Lucy stared at Obiwa.
“My mother didn’t fight in the wars,” she said. “She was a sailor on a spice freighter.”
Something almost like anger flickered across Obiwa’s face and was gone. “That’s what your aunt told you,” she said evenly. “She didn’t hold with your mother’s ideals, thought she should have stayed here.”
If Mother had listened to her, she’d still be alive, Lucy thought, but without resentment. Of course Anna couldn’t stay here. Far better to die quickly, achieving something great, than to watch your life slip away in bits and pieces.
Lucy understood that. Somehow she always understood her mother.
“You fought in the Blood Wars?” she asked.
Obiwa laughed. “Yes. I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your mother.”
“I wish I’d known her,” Lucy admitted wistfully.
“She was the best rider in the world . . . and a cunning warrior,” said Obiwa. She looked less grieved than - distantly regretful, perhaps, her eyes fixed on something above Lucy’s shoulder.
My mother, Lucy thought.
“I hear you’ve become quite a good horsewoman yourself,” Obiwa added, her smile at once forced and approving.
Lucy blushed and shrugged. She’d been sneaking out to see the horses since she was a little girl. She’d always been good with them and she did ride well - but she was no Anna Skywalker. Not yet.
Obiwa’s voice broke into her thoughts. “And she was a good friend. Which reminds me, I have something here for you.” She went to a large wooden box, pulling out a gleaming sword with such ease that Lucy’s brow furrowed.
“Does it work?”
“This is your mother’s flamesword. She wanted you to have it, when you were old enough, but your aunt wouldn’t allow it.” She placed it in Lucy’s hands, confirming her suspicions that - somehow - it was little heavier than a carving knife.
Lucy swallowed. Obiwa was still talking, but she didn’t hear her. She couldn’t think of anything except that her mother’s hand had once rested where hers did now. It didn’t matter that the weapon seemed unlikely to cut through much more than butter. This was my mother’s. My mother’s.
There was an odd indentation near her hand. Curious, Lucy ran her thumb over it - and three feet of blue-white flames shot out, twining about the blade.
Lucy gasped, but she didn’t scream, and she didn’t drop the sword. After a moment she recovered herself a little, swinging the sword carefully. The flames crackled at her slightest movement, but they didn’t seem to burn, exactly. It had to be some kind of magic.
Magic, in a flaming sword? We’d better call the magistrate and warn him that water’s going to be wet this week! The jeering thought sounded suspiciously like her friend Camus. Well, it was right. Of course the sword was magic, just like Obiwa was.
A witch, Rowena had called her, and Lucy could tell she hadn’t been making that up. Obiwa did have some kind of power, something she could feel even if she couldn’t name it. There was a whole world full of it, just within her reach - her mother’s world and Obiwa’s, that Rowena had kept from her all this time, and -
Rowena. Rowena and Beren. They weren’t - they’d never adopted her. They’d taken care of her because there was nobody else to do it, and they were too kind and dutiful to abandon their own niece. They’d never seen her as theirs and Lucy didn’t think they’d even wanted her to be.
But they’d loved her. They’d brought her up. It didn’t matter that Anna’s daughter might as well have been emblazoned across her forehead. They needed her on the farm, not buried on some far-off battlefield like -
Lucy’s throat felt dry. She moved her thumb, letting the hilt swallow the flames, and looked directly at Obiwa.
“How did my mother die?”