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'𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐱' ═══════╝
━━ -ˋˏ★ˎˊ- ━━
...AHCH-TO, UNKNOWN REGIONS
𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 Cora and Lyra died, the galaxy split in two.
The news of the fire reached Luke Skywalker when he was halfway back to Naboo, en route on a hastily arranged transport. He had felt it in his chest as he boarded, the twist of imminent disaster that threatened to tear him apart. And when it did, it felt like there was nothing left of him. Just the feeling of emptiness as he knew for certain that Cora had been right. She had sworn her family was cursed, and maybe his was, too. Her death was deemed a political assassination, the same name that had been given to the untimely death of her own father so many years ago.
Luke Skywalker had been away for too long at the Jedi Praxeum on Yavin 4, desperately trying to right the path of his still-young nephew. He had taken on more than he should have, and with very few others that could help, he found himself spending less time with his family and more time with his padawans. Cora said she knew that what he was doing was important, but there was a part of her that resented how far apart they always were.
He resented it too.
The final night before he left for the last time, they had stood in her study, a room lined floor to ceiling with books. Cora's favorite room in the entire house.
"My parents always said they would never live in Theed again," Cora said, staring out the window. The candle light caught on her hazel eyes. "The city is a dangerous place, that's what Melia said to me when we agreed that she would keep the estate and I would move here to the villa. And you know?" Cora sighed contentedly. "I never felt in danger here. I'm not sure if it was you being here with me or not, but I've always felt safe."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to guilt trip me into staying longer?"
She laughed and moved a hand, dampening the fire in the fireplace and raising it again. It was an anxious habit of hers. "I know I can never make you stay."
Some part of him broke hearing her admit those words.
"Then come with me," he reasoned. "Lyra would love it there. Think of it as a vacation."
