“Block.” One, two, three. “Very good. I’m coming at you again.” Parry. Feint, strike. Block. “You’re a natural.”

            Allana swept her dark red hair out of her eyes. “You forget—my mother taught me the Jedi way; the Hapan guard taught me the formal way. Defensive, offensive—I’ve been trained in both. My mother felt that was best.”

            Ben inclined his head in a placating gesture; the last thing he wanted was for this training session to disintegrate into a discussion about mothers.

            “I wonder about my grandmother,” Allana announced, as she slashed high left.

            Ben blocked it, though was startled nonetheless. “Grandmother?”

            “Your aunt...my grandmother...Leia,” Allana replied, holding her lightsaber in classic guard, her gray eyes studying him intently, her Force sense probing him just as he’d taught her.

            “And what do you wonder, Your Highness?” Ben waited, studying her in turn. Beads of perspiration lay across her brow; dark circles lurked beneath her over-brilliant eyes.

            “I wonder when my father will send you to kill her,” she finished, striking out suddenly and viciously.

            Ben blocked her again, this time sending her into a slight spin. She absorbed the blow, pirouetting gracefully. Ben caught himself thinking—wistfully—that his mother would have admired Allana’s natural dancer’s grace.

            “Correction,” Ben Skywalker said, “your father would never send me for that job. That is something he will do himself.”

            “He’s waiting.” Allana began to circle her guardian, lightsaber drawn low.

            “For what, Princess?” Ben matched her movements.

            She shrugged and abruptly straightened. “I would have liked to know her.”

            “Why do you speak in the past tense? She’s still alive—and Uncle Han, too.”

            “Do you ever miss them, Ben?” Allana asked, deactivating her saber.

            Ben deactivated his as well, with a small sigh. Allana’s questions had been growing as of late; though the pair had grown closer, he sometimes felt genuine fear whenever she posed one.

                                                (There are some things you’re better off not knowing...)

            “I don’t know, Allana. How can I miss them? That would imply that I still love them. And your father does not allow me to love.”

            “No, he only allows himself that tragedy,” Allana sniffed cynically. The tone and accompanying expression rested awkwardly on her young features. “Actually, he thinks he is operating in love—towards the galaxy.” Seeing her guardian about to speak, she cut him off, calmly: “He doesn’t love me, Ben Skywalker. He is fond of me—but he doesn’t love me.”

            “And what makes you say that?” Playing the part of loyal, if reluctant, apprentice.

            Allana smiled; Ben didn’t care for the flavor of it. “A daughter knows, Ben. My mother always told me he loved me—but I think she was wrong. She loved him—almost more than Hapes. She put herself—and me—in danger in order to help him—he should have looked after us better!”

            She laughed cruelly before continuing. “Your father, on the other hand, loves you. He loves you—I feel it rippling the Force sometimes. He tries to hide it—for your sake. He doesn’t want my father to hurt you further.”

            “If a daughter knows, then a son knows,” Ben snapped. “My father may love me like you say—but he’s disowned me. He’s taken up with his adopted daughter—and forgotten all about me.”

            “What are you talking about?” The princess watched him warily.

            “Malinza Thanas,” Ben said clearly. “She’s an orphan on Bakura...my dad and her mom had a thing once. When her mom—died—and her dad was dead by then as well, my dad kind of...adopted her. Became her patron, more like.” And Ben was suddenly assaulted by memories: Malinza—‘Linzi’ he’d called her—holding his hand, smiling at him, singing lullabies. He’d loved her like a sister; he had cared for her. So why had he been left out of the wedding invitations?

            Sith Lords and apprentices don’t get involved in that kind of frivolity, he reminded himself. Though a part of him understood why he had not been invited, the larger part of him smoldered with resentment.

                                                                                    (Always in my father’s shadow)

            He was so lost in thought that he did not sense Allana move closer to him. She laid her cheek against his and wrapped her arms around him. Instinctively, he held her around the waist.

            “Such Darkness I sense in you, Ben Skywalker,” she murmured. “But also Light. You need...balance.”

            He nearly laughed; Allana had no idea she was speaking almost parallel to Malinza’s religious beliefs.

            “See?” she whispered. “That wasn’t so hard.”

            “What, Sith Lords don’t laugh?” he smiled.

            “No,” was her reply, “but apprentices do.”

            He held her tighter, breathing in the fresh flower scent of her hair, the innocence of her skin.

            “Have you ever tried reaching for the Light within me, Ben?” she asked softly. “Tell me the truth.”

            “I...yes, I have. But I—it was an accident—I didn’t mean to—”

            “Shh,” she said. “I’m not telling my father. But I want to follow your probe. Would you—would you mind?”

            “What purpose would it serve?” he said, just as softly. “We both know that you are a daughter of the Light—no matter what your father may think. I am not training you in either Light of Dark—I am simply teaching you finer attunement to the Force. When you are older, you can cast your lot as you choose.” What would his father say to hear those words from his little Ben’s mouth?

            Destiny is just a gamble anyway, he told himself. Let the dice fly high—let them land where they may. If the Force chooses to guide them—

            “Ben. The probe.” Allana looked up at him with pleading eyes, but he detected a flicker of annoyance.

            “You haven’t told me why,” he insisted.

            She dropped her eyes, long lashes hiding their expression. “I want you to. Is that a good enough reason?”

            “Close your eyes,” he whispered into her ear. Keeping one arm around her waist and arm, he reached down the length of her other arm and entwined his fingers with hers. A friendly, loving warmth spread from their touch that they both knew had nothing to do with the probe. But he continued, not dropping her hand, entering her mind as gently and as smoothly as he could.

            He had hoped—and feared—that he would be blinded by searing Light—but he was not. Allana was dangling a hair’s-breadth from the gray, just on the lighter side.

            “I couldn’t explain it to you,” she mumbled, her face suddenly hot and wet against his. “I needed you to see it for yourself.”

            “No, Allana. Not now.” Ben withdrew from her, mentally and physically. “You cannot fall! I won’t have it!”

            She stood where he had left her, silent and still. “Many things happen in the universe without your permission, Master Ben,” she said sarcastically. “We all dance on the fine line—some fall—some don’t.”

            “This is not something to be taken lightly, Your Highness,” he spat. “I should—”

            “—what? Tell my father?” She laughed. “He’ll be happy you led me there—so happy he’ll kill you and make me his apprentice!”

            That brought Ben up short. Caedus would do that—and Allana would not survive Dark Side training. He knew this instinctively.

            “I can’t watch you fall,” he said helplessly. “Allana—please—”

            “Please what, Apprentice?” she nearly growled. “Do you think it’s easy for me to watch you fall—lower and lower, to see you get darker and more twisted each day? Your mother loved you, Ben Skywalker—but don’t let that love destroy you! Your father loves you—why don’t you reach back? You are a stubborn, prideful, arrogant—”

            “That’s enough.”

            A dark shadow fell across the pair; Ben looked over his shoulder with a feisty Allana in his arms.

            Darth Caedus stood in the doorway, looking in with—anger? annoyance? amusement? on his face.

            “Why are you in my apprentice’s company, Your Highness?” he said.

            Allana released her grip on Ben and stood with her arms at her sides. “Begging your pardon, Father, but we were practicing Force skills...and is Ben not my friend?”

            “Your guardian and teacher—not your friend, Princess,” he returned. “I will not have you using such words again. You sound like an academy brat—I’ve raised you better than that.”

            Ben flinched as he felt a hot tide of Allana’s anger rise and ebb in the Force.

                                                                                                (My mother raised me)

            “I see we are in need of quality time, daughter,” Darth Caedus proclaimed, extending his arm out to his little girl. “Come with me. Master Ben—you are on leave for the rest of the week.”

 

 

            On leave.

            When was last time he’d taken a break? And since when did Sith acolytes take vacations?

           

 

 

            Gentle waves, lapping at the shore; birds calling softly overhead; sunlight kissing his baby brow.

            “Ben...” his mother whispered, tousling his hair. “Wake up, sweetheart. Let’s take a walk down the beach.”

 

 

            “This, son, is the pilot’s chair.” Luke stood on a ladder next to his X-Wing, little Ben sitting happily in the cockpit. “See my screens—see all the buttons? And look—there’s Artoo, ready to go for a ride.”

            “Go fo’ wide?” Little Ben clapped his small hands together.

            “Yes, go for a ride,” his father smiled, kissing the top of his head.

 

 

            The Allana-place in his mind was quiet. Ben wouldn’t have put it past Caedus to be blocking the pair’s communication. He kept to his quarters for the first two days of his leave, dreading a sudden painful explosion in that special Allana-place. When nothing happened, Ben realized he might actually have to find something to do.

            He had no friends; he’d sacrificed all friendship when he’d become Caedus’ apprentice.

            But he had family.

            Now why would you want to do that? his inner voice chastised him. Suddenly you’ve got downtime and you want to visit the very people you’ve alienated?

            One week was a very long time to be alone with oneself. Ben considered himself disciplined, but he still did not relish the idea of meditating. Meditation always brought him too close to

            (guilt, hubris, denial, hatred, angst)

the call of the Light Side.

            It’s calling me back. But turning back...I have so much to atone for...and—Mother, I’m sorry—I’m just not strong enough.

            “You should be meditating.” Caedus was at Ben’s door again, almost as if he were summoned by Ben’s train of thought.

            “Don’t you have anything better to do?” Ben demanded. “I’m on leave.”

            “So I say—and can take back,” Caedus shot back, sounding like Jacen for a moment.

            “Where’s Allana?”

            “Her Highness is currently studying and is not to be disturbed.”

            “It’s still hard to think of you as a father.”

            “She must be a bad influence on you—you’re starting to imitate her speech patterns.”

            “She’s a jumping bean.”

            “She’s a—what?”

            “She hops from topic to topic, usually into ones she doesn’t belong. I trust she won’t be asking me about my mother again?”

            “She asked about your mother?”

            “And there you thought you knew everything.”

            “I see everything—there’s a difference.”

            “Did you need something, Master?”

            “Only a chat with you. We haven’t spoken in a long time, my apprentice.”

            “I’ve noticed. Allana’s a good pal, though.”

            “Ben, you know I love you like a son—which is why I put up with your inane comments. I’d ask, though, that you be a trifle more respectful when you speak of my daughter.”

            Ben rolled his eyes. “Begging your pardon,” he said, not meaning a word of it. “Is there something I can do for you?”

            “Leave the palace for the rest of the week. Your constant war between Light and Dark is distracting my meditations—and Allana’s as well.”

            Ben felt a searing flash of anger. “She is supposed to be studying, Master. I don’t recommend too much meditation for the princess.”

            “Thought I wouldn’t catch on to your little schemes, Ben Skywalker? You are the true apprentice; you sure act the part. Need I remind you of the Rule of Two?”

            Ben nearly smiled, but Allana’s over-brilliant gray eyes rose to the surface of his mind. “Master, she’s a bit overworked. Perhaps you should grant her a week of rest as well. She’s pale—and I think she’s not eating. She could do with a little more parental attention, sir.”

            Caedus looked at his apprentice, weighing him silently. The Force whispered of betrayal—but it was not in the immediate future. He had nothing to fear from Ben—for now.

            “Perhaps you are right,” he conceded. “I will grant her a week of rest—but I want you gone from our presence. You are not looking well yourself. Whatever would your father say?”

            And with that witty rejoinder, Darth Caedus left Ben, chuckling to himself.

            Oh, don’t worry, Jacen. Your day will come, and that right soon. Ben Skywalker smiled while he clenched his fists. Allana would be safe for a week; Ben could do with some “off” time.

            Perhaps it is time I visited my adopted sister. I should remind her of her manners.