In The Works

Star Wars OT & PT- Luke Skywalker/Athara Adyé

A Star Wars Original & Prequel Trilogy Fanfiction

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Summary

When their escaping shuttle is caught in the devastating blast wave of the Death Star II's Destruction, the last place where Luke Skywalker and Athara Adyé expected to find themselves was the Tatooine desert with nothing but their lightsabers and the empty mask of Darth Vader.

They certainly didn't expect to find themselves confronted with living ghosts on the sandy streets of Mos Espa. . . almost forty years in the past.

A Time Travel AU featuring to OG OC of my Star Wars Lady Adyé Series: the Dark Lady Obscura herself.

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Full disclosure: I borderline despise the idea of Time Travel being introduced to the Star Wars Universe. Don't get me wrong, the Time Travel Fix-It trope is one of my all time favourites. . . in other fandoms. But for some reason, the concept of Time Travel in the Star Wars Universe just feels intrinsically wrong to me, personally. To the point where I do many mental gymnastics and. . . well, pretend it doesn't exist when it gets alluded to in Canon. Thankfully, the Live Action properties have steered clear of irrefutable mention of it and I've already personally held the Animated shows as semi-canon for other reasons I've already mentioned elsewhere ad nauseam, allowing for me to maintain my self-soothing fantasy. 

Which is why I cannot, for the life of me, understand where this blasted idea came from or why my brain is running so hard with it. 

Like, I mean whole-scenes-and-arcs-and-most-of-a-plot-mapped-out-and-a-prologue-written-and-the-first-chapter-coming-in-hot-on-its-heels running with it. 

Let's be real: it's going to be crack taken seriously.

May as well have fun with it. . . I guess.

*sigh*

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Prologue

Athara jolted awake with a gasp, her eyes immediately squeezing shut from the sheer intensity of the sun, no, two suns blazing down on her. Her head was spinning. What. . .

The last thing she remembered was the heavy nothing of unconsciousness dragging her down as the gentle, apologetic sensation of her Master's touch brushed against her cheek.

Right as horrified despair settled into grieved resignation flashed against her dulling senses from the cockpit and the shuttle rocked as a blinding flare. . .

She sucked in a ragged breath, twisting to her side to curl tightly in on herself, utterly uncaring of the sand shifting around her, clinging to her hair and clothes and clammy skin.

And after the flare – the flare she suddenly knew with nauseating certainty what it was – was. . . nothing.

Nothing but a vague, unsettling impression of stars and water and. . . and her Master's sad, proud smile.

A ragged gasp caused her aching body to hitch painfully.

Her Master, her father in all but blood she realized with a wrenching, anguished clarity, was gone.

He'd saved them, sacrificing himself for her and-

She jolted again even as a low, pained groan sounded not far behind her.

She clenched her jaw as her body objected to how quickly she shot up, her head spinning violently as she twisted to see—

Another ragged gasp lodged painfully in her throat at the sight of her Farmboy sitting up, his forehead dropping to cradle in hands braced with his elbows on his popped knees.

"Luke—" He lifted his head, his familiar blue eyes even more vibrant than usual, shining damply in the unforgiving glare overhead.

She didn't know who moved first, and frankly, she didn't care. Not when she was clinging to his lean, very solid, very real frame and his were curling just as tight around her in return, his face pressing tight against the curve of her neck just as hers was against his. Her knuckles ached from their grip on his black tunic, but she didn't loosen them. She couldn't, not when—

"I thought we were dead," he rasped against her hair, his cybernetic hand sliding up her neck to tangle in her hair. He drew back then, and Athara eagerly returned his hard, affirming kiss, her feelings echoing his; grief, disbelief, confusion, relief and a maelstrom of too many others to be easily categorized that all came back to one simple truth:

Somehow, they were alive when they very much shouldn't be.

"The shuttle was caught in the blast wave," he murmured, struggling to make sense of it, "after that. . . I. . . I don't know what I. . . It feels like a. . . a dream I can't quite. . ."

"Stars," Athara murmured, eyes unfocused as she settled back into the vague impressions tickling at the shadowy edge of her memory. "Stars and. . . and paths—"

"—of light," Luke continued, just as distantly.

"And my Master," Athara finished, her voice wavering. Luke focused on her again, his thumb tenderly brushing away the lone tear that has spilled onto her cheek. Sucking in a ragged breath as she shook the heart-aching crush of grief aside, she shook her head, frowning as she looked up at him. "How are we here?" Her frown deepened as she properly looked around them, suddenly irritated with herself at not having done so already. "Where is here?" Luke huffed out an exasperated chuckle.

"I'd know 'here' anywhere," he said dryly with a squinting glance into the blinding sunlight and gingerly got to his feet. He held out his hand, wisely not saying anything at Athara's shaking legs even if the concern in his eyes said that he very much wanted to. "We're on Tatooine."