Vignette - Miracles || A Star Wars Short Story

Vignette - Miracles

#Merrinverse

#MerrinverseFic

#Soraa

Miracles. Over the course of his life, Sovu Todasa had borne witness to his fair share of miracles. From the successful completion of a daring raid with his clone platoons against countless opposing battle droids, to the saving of hundreds from a collapsing building, to his own survival of Order Sixty-Six, he had seen many miracles, indeed. Even the quick construction of the home in which he now resided had been somewhat of a miracle, given how fast he and the few that had helped him had managed to put it up. The fact that he was living in this place, sequestered from the outside galaxy on a planet in Wild Space, inhabiting a home with two of his closest friends and his wife, that he also did consider a miracle. Even with all of that, however, none of those were quite as great as the one that currently sat atop his chest.

That little miracle was sitting on one of her favorite perches, with that perch in turn stretched out comfortably on the not-too-small bed that took up most of the space in the room he shared with his wife. The young infant, who had only just turned a year old, was upright where she sat, her small hands, connected to proportionally small arms, outstretched ahead of her and towards Sovu’s face as if she were trying to grasp at something. Perhaps she was trying to do just that, as a small rattle floated just beyond her reach, and slowly made its way up above her, and then to the right, and to the left. The young girl’s wide eyes followed the bright red toy, made from the gourd of a fruit native to the planet, as it moved to and fro. It was so obvious she wanted it in her hands, the way her eyes followed it around. It floated close to her head, just within her reach, but she missed by a fraction of a centimeter as it was quickly retracted, and the young girl momentarily lost her balance. Sovu’s hands were there to her almost instantly, however, preventing her from toppling from her place. She let out a happy laugh as she was caught, and placed back up on her perch, right over his bottom-most set of ribs, the cloth of the simple sleeveless, gray shirt he wore as part of his lazy-lounging outfit catching against her. Her legs, swaddled in a simple cloth diaper and left mostly bare, drummed in a one-two pattern against his upper chest three times in her excitement.

The rattle was left floating in the air, and soon, so was the young child, as her father picked her up, and held her over his head, an arms-length away. There was another giggle, and she gave him a big, toothy smile - at least, as toothy as a near-newborn could be, as so few of her teeth had grown in in the year she had been alive. “There’s my little Mae, flying high,” he cooed in response to her. She looked so bright, in more ways than one, Sovu reflected as he eyed his young daughter as she looked back down at him. She seemed so happy and carefree, bright in that sense, and also brighter against the dark backdrop of the room’s gray ceiling, illuminated only by a simple nightstand light on the end table near him.

Time seemed to stop as he laid there, playing with her, as it sometimes happened, and he caught himself reflecting on everything that had led up to this moment. These pangs hit him often, especially lately, as his and his wife’s focus had shifted to simply living life, and caring for the child which they had brought into the galaxy. He recalled when Lar’aa had told him she was pregnant, how shocked he had been when she’d told him the news. She hadn’t wanted to say anything initially, fearing that it may turn out like the first baby they had been expecting, a few years before they had gotten married. That first one hadn’t taken, and he and Lar’aa had placed suspicion in clashing genetics, between his Zabraki DNA and her hybrid human-Sephi genes. Therefore, they hadn’t expected a second pregnancy to be any more successful than that first one, though that hadn’t stopped them from trying, especially after things were put into perspective for them. With the reign of the Empire in full swing, he and Lar’aa had spent so much time trying to combat the “New Order” and restore the Republic, and the Jedi Order which they both had previously served, and it had more or less consumed their lives from that fateful day on which Order Sixty-Six had been executed onward. Right up until they had that shock of the potential that they could have children together. When they lost that first very early embryo, it had been tough, because that hope had truly settled in their hearts, and it excited them, for it was something new and very much worthwhile for the both of them. The possibility of having a child was a bright spot in an otherwise gloomy existence at that point. It was a new step, and a wonderful step.

Then they had taken another step, when they got married. Of course, they had practically been ed at the hip for years at that point, so it hadn’t really changed much. It was simply nice for what it was: an affirmation of their love and their dedication to each other. And then, hardly a year later, she had gotten pregnant again, and the result of that he was now holding in his arms.

Our baby girl…

My baby, Mae.

He was thrown from his reverie when that baby Mae decided to writhe and struggle in his grip, letting out a series of happy cries as she reached down toward her father. Bringing her back down toward him, he brought her face close to his and rubbed their noses together, making pleasant nonsense syllable sounds as he did so. In response, Mae’s tiny hands came in to slap against the sides of his head. It wasn’t enough to do any real damage, and it wasn’t even unexpected, but it did still hurt a little. With a slight wince, he sucked in a sharp breath, and then moved to set the child down on the bed again. Once she was free to roam, she made her way toward the red rattle that was now lying, discarded, on the bed. She moved so quickly, Sovu noted as he turned onto his side and brought a hand to his face, rubbing against one of his cheeks which she had so severely rapped upon. Not even a few moments later, she was sitting up against the bed, having crawled to the side and further up the bed so she was now resting with her back against the pillows her mother usually slept against. She shook the rattle vigorously, now quiet as her eyes seemed to glaze over, mesmerized at the sound and feel of the toy which she gripped so tightly in her fingers. Sovu allowed her time to play with the item on her own, relegating himself to watching his daughter as she played, before eventually jumping in with her again.

Sovu and Mae spent a quarter of an hour going back and forth, having fun and laughing together as close father-daughter duos often did. That quarter of an hour soon turned into half an hour, and then three quarters of an hour, and then one whole hour before they stopped, little Mae finally being worn out. They ended their session of play in much the same manner as it began, with Mae’s small form laying belly-down atop her father’s more broad shape, her head tucked just underneath his, and over his heart. Sovu, himself, was leaning back on a handful of pillows, resting with his back at about a forty-five degree angle parallel to the bed. One of his arms rested solidly against his daughter, ing her so she wouldn’t shift too much and fall off of him. His free hand rested against her back, drawing slow, small, soothing circles against her back. She was worn out, and it was obvious in the way her eyelids drooped lower and lower. Her yawn was wide, and soft, her vocal chords creaking out an adorable sound that practically melted Sovu’s heart right then and there. She blinked afterward once, twice, and then a third and final time, before her eyes remained closed, and her breathing evened out and slowed. Sovu, too, barely stifled a yawn, and an amused thought came to his mind.

For all the things they train you to be ready for as a Jedi, you get nothing on parenting…

Of course that was the case, though. According to the Code, Jedi were to abstain from attachments that were generally seen as conducive to producing children. Marriage… Love… they were not meant for Jedi, not at all. Little Mae was proof of the fact that he had not only broken those rules, but taken a club to them and smashed them to bits. He had done so the moment he acknowledged his feelings for the woman who was now his wife, for what else was he supposed to do? During the Clone Wars, he had been on the front constantly, under fire, under pressure, and the things he had seen had gotten to him, worn him down. He was jealous of some of the other Jedi he ed, the ones who the war always seemed to go easier on. Sure, Kenobi and Windu and Skywalker had all gotten their fair share of tough missions, but it was obvious in the way they acted that they had not gone through some of the things that had befallen him - seeing families vaporized before his eyes, or children drowning because he wasn’t fast enough to save them, experiencing what it was like to be on death’s door after suffering grievous injuries, or holding onto an ally and watching the life leave their eyes. In the end, he had turned to someone who understood, not just because she was a Jedi, but because she had ended up experiencing a lot of those things alongside him.

Lar’aa. His beloved Lar’aa.

She had held him together through so much, right up until the point when he finally couldn’t take the stress anymore, and broke. Then she helped him pick up the pieces, along with a few others, but none did it in the way she did. He still ed when he finally realized he loved her - she had prevented him from flying off the rails before their first big collection of leave time, halfway through the war. In a moment of weakness, he’d driven himself to drink - and, of course, serving on a Corellian ship with a bunch of Corellians at the time on loan to the Navy from their planetary Defense Force, alcohol was easily accessible. Lar’aa had found him in his drunken stupor, downing one glass of Corellian whiskey after the next, and had managed to talk him down from a rather precarious figurative ledge. That night, he’d almost lost himself, but she had reigned him in. Then, a few days later, he had told her he loved her. They started seeing each other in secret, and then he began to share her bed. It was all so wrong, they had both been drilled in the Code for years, since they were toddlers. It was all so wrong.

But it was all so right.

Through thick and thin, they remained together, and all of that hardship and pain, and ultimately love, had resulted in this little bundle of joy that now slept atop his form. She was a final act of defiance against the frivolous rules of an Order that no longer existed, against a rule that frowned upon the most basic and valuable emotion of them all: love.

The former Jedi was roused from his musings by the sound of fabric brushing against wood not too far away, and he looked up toward the door to see his former-Jedi wife standing in the threshold, her arms folded across her chest. A small smile brightened her ovular face, and her eyes were equally bright with a mirth he was often graced with whenever they spent time at the home they had built together on this backwater world, where they could just be themselves, away from prying eyes. He returned her smile, and kept his gaze on her long enough to see her push off the threshold and begin walking toward their bed, with him having shifted his gaze back to the sleeping Mae. He felt the bedspread dip as his wife’s weight was added, and soon her warmth was against his as she sidled up next to the two occupants already there. “And how are my two favorite people in the galaxy,” he heard her ask, her silky mezzo-soprano voice music to his ears.

”Tired,” he replied with a small chuckle, and he was rewarded with a similar one back from her. The two of them fell silent shortly after, both sets of eyes now on their child. It was a pleasant silence, one of mutual iration and reflection, a comfortable silence. It was comfortable for him, too, when Lar’aa snuggled up closer to him, and he shifted some to make room, allowing her to find her way into the open area left by his arm. She tucked her head up against his shoulder as his arm wrapped around her, putting her face to face with Mae. They stayed like that, simply enjoying being with each other, for many wonderful minutes.

It was Sovu who finally broke the silence. “I still can’t believe this is our daughter,” he whispered, momentarily awestruck. He and Lar’aa had brought this wonderful life into the galaxy together, and maybe it was just him being slow and trying to catch up, but there were times such as this when he couldn’t believe how fortunate he had been in many respects.

Lar’aa smiled, and he felt her shake her head in a bit of an exasperated fashion. “You say that at least once a week,” she murmured, amusement ringing in her words. She was right, of course. She was always right. “But if you didn’t, I would,” she added then.

This was his miracle: the life that he shared with a woman he loved deeply and unconditionally. Now, he was sharing that life with one more person. For all the hardship, the aches, the pains, coming back from the brink of death… this was worth it, this snapshot moment of his life, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

I just have to thank the Force for these miracles I have…

I love you, Lar’aa…

I love you, Mae...

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* Credit for the character of Red, and is used with her permission *

** Credit for the art used throughout goes to original creators **