Author: Michele

Author's E-mail: michelesky29@hotmail.com

Spoilers: Original movie trilogy; A Journey of Discovery - Book One: Pendulum

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Luke and Mara continue their up-and-down relationship in this sequel to A Journey of Discovery -- Book One: Pendulum.

Disclaimer: All these wonderful characters belong to George Lucas. He's just allowing the likes of Zahn, Stackpole, Tyers, and me to play in his galaxy. No Imperial or Republic credits are being made off this story.

Author's Note: Many thanks to all my wonderful, 'anonymous,' betas (you know who you are) for their words of encouragement and invaluable suggestions

"Hey, Your Worshipfulness! Wait up!"

Leia Organa turned at the sound of the familiar voice -- a voice that now brought a smile to her face instead of a scowl. She leaned her head back to receive a discreet kiss.

"How was your trip?" Leia asked, as she slipped her hand around Han's arm.

"Hmmm, delivered the supplies to Bimmisaari, as ordered. Dropped Chewie off at Kashyyyk for a visit with his family. Brought back a load of Wookiee-designed ship parts. All in all, it was... boring as hell."

"And... did you miss me?" Leia gave him a private little smirk as they turned a corner in the wide corridor leading to the New Republic's offices.

"'Course I did," Han responded, with his best lop-sided grin. "I don't know how Chewie does it. If I ever get married -- and mind you, I have no such plans -- I could never leave my wife for long stretches like he does."

"Is that so?" Leia raised one delicate eyebrow. "If I were ever to marry -- not that I have such plans either -- I would never let my husband go away for long periods of time."

"Glad we're in agreement," Han whispered, leaning over for another kiss, until a pair of high-ranking officials passing by prompted Leia to gently push him upright.

"Well, you haven't missed anything here," Leia continued the conversation. "A half dozen planets have petitioned for membership in the New Republic, with a day's worth of meetings for each one."

"All right, you win. You've had a more boring week than I have." Han gave Leia's hand a warm squeeze as she clutched his arm. "Speaking of new member planets, how's your brother doing on his first recruitment mission?"

"Actually, I haven't heard a thing about the mission since Mon Mothma first mentioned it, which was before Luke even knew. In fact, I'm on my way to see her now. Hopefully he's reported in."

"You didn't talk to him before he left?"

"No, I didn't have a chance." Leia frowned regretfully. "I was out late the evening before, meeting with a delegation from Obroa-Skai, as I recall. And he was up and gone when I awoke the next morning."

"Was he even home the night before he left?" Han snickered. "Perhaps he had someone more important to say goodbye to."

"Now, Han, don't go jumping to conclusions."

"Has the ice maiden been acting lonely without him?"

"Haven't seen her. But then, I didn't expect to. You know she keeps to herself when Luke's not around." Leia paused before the ornate door they had reached. "Here we are."

Mon Mothma rose as Han and Leia entered. "Good morning, Leia. And welcome back, General Solo. I'm glad you returned in time to hear this also."

"Hear this?" Leia questioned, as she and Han took a seat.

"Yes. We received a transmission from Regent Ke'lor of Lorrd a short time ago."

"Don't tell me the kid's got 'em to join up already!" Han grinned lazily.

Mon Mothma gave him a cool stare. "I'm afraid Commander Skywalker hasn't arrived on Lorrd yet."

"What?!" Leia scooted forward on the edge of her seat. "But he should have gotten there four days ago!"

"Exactly. The Lorrdians did receive a garbled transmission from him, the day before his scheduled arrival."

Mon Mothma switched on an audio recording. "There's quite a bit of static, coming from the commander's end." She leaned back to listen, along with Leia and Han.

"...peat, this ... Comm ... Skywalker ... Repub... ... advise ... Ke' ... be delay..." There was a noticeable pause in the recording before it continued. "sev ... ten days ... malfunction ... send ... apol ... copy?"

"That's it?" Han was the first to speak. "And the Lorrdians just now decided to tell us about this?"

"Regent Ke'lor assumed we already knew," Mon Mothma replied calmly. "He only contacted us now to see if we've heard anything further from the commander, but unfortunately, we have not." She clasped her hands tightly. "All our attempts to contact them have gone unanswered."

A puzzled frown appeared on Leia's face. "What do you mean by 'contact them'? I thought you sent Luke by himself."

"He didn't tell you?" It was the New Republic leader's turn to appear confused. "He took his apprentice with him."

"What apprentice?" Han and Leia blurted out simultaneously.

Mon Mothma looked back and forth between the two of them. "Miss Jade, of course."

A wide grin split Han's face. "He told you Mara Jade was his apprentice?" he said with a snort, before jerking to meet Leia's warning stare as she kicked him with her foot.

Mon Mothma's frown deepened. "Are you saying she is not? Leia?"

"They do share... I mean, he is sharing with her his knowledge of the Force." Leia tried to smooth things over. "I was unaware he had taken her as a formal student."

"I would think you would know better than anyone." The stately woman gave Leia a pointed stare, though her voice remained even.

"I don't get involved in my brother's personal affairs," Leia bit out hesitantly. What in the galaxy was Luke up to?

"Are you saying his connection to her is of a personal nature?" Mon Mothma continued her questioning.

"She's saying what the kid does in his spare time is his own business," Han interjected, ignoring Leia's 'stay out of this' look.

Mon Mothma drew a deep breath. "I don't mean to pry into anyone's private life, but this concerns a valuable trade negotiation. The Lorrdians insisted they would meet only with Jedi. If he has jeopardized..." She trailed off as she rose from her seat, placing her palms flat on her desk. "I'll ask you once more, is Mara Jade training to be a Jedi Knight, or are she and Commander Skywalker only involved in a romantic tryst?"

Han balled his fists in frustration and glanced aside at Leia, who was gripping the armrests of her chair. Leia finally spoke for the both of them. "We're not sure."

Mon Mothma sat back down with a sigh. "I see."

"Aren't we missing the real issue here?" Leia continued. "What happened to Luke and Mara? Where are they? What kind of trouble did they have?"

"You're right, of course," the leader conceded. "Their safety should be our first concern."

Leia glanced first at Han, then turned to her superior. "I want to go looking for them." She looked again at Han, as if entreating his help. "He's four days overdue. We should leave right away."

Han shook his head slowly. "Hold on, Leia. We have no evidence they're in any danger. Luke simply said he'd be delayed."

"He said he had a ship malfunction," the former princess countered.

"Which apparently he thought he could handle. You know Luke's handy at all kinds of ship repair." Han frowned to himself, then looked at Mon Mothma. "What are they in, a shuttle? Or did you give Jade an X-wing to match Luke's?"

"Miss Jade is not authorized to pilot an Alliance craft," came the reply.

"So a shuttle then. Now—"

The New Republic leader's quiet voice interrupted Han's conjecturing. "They are traveling in one of the newly modified B-wings."

"A B-wing?" Leia questioned, conjuring up the image in her mind.

"It was the only two-seat craft available, and Commander Skywalker has logged adequate training hours in one," Mon Mothma explained patiently.

"But you expected them to spend the entire trip crammed together in one of those tiny cockpits?" Han exclaimed. The thought suddenly crossed his mind that Luke's 'ship trouble' could be that by the second day he'd killed the fiery redhead, and had to detour to dispose of the body. Though knowing Jade's temper, it seemed more likely to happen the other way around. Han looked at Leia, wondering if she were having the same thoughts as he was. They'd both witnessed more than one spat between the two Force users.

"I don't think that should be a problem for a Jedi..., or his apprentice," the serene leader responded smoothly, cutting short his musings.

"Luke does go on longer trips than that in his X-wing," Leia conceded aloud.

Yeah, but Artoo doesn't talk back -- much, Han thought. "All right, all right." He held up his hands in resignation. "I'm just glad I've got the Falcon, where I can get up and stretch my legs."

Leia stood and began pacing, then turned back to Han. "How familiar is Luke with B-wing repair? Han, I still think we should go looking for them. They could be stranded who knows where."

"Or they could have set down somewhere to make repairs."

"Which shouldn't prevent them from answering a comm transmission," Leia countered.

"Maybe the comm is part of what's wrong." When Leia began to object again, Han continued. "Maybe... we should let the kid take care of himself."

"But..." Leia still couldn't bring herself to just sit and do nothing.

"Leia," Han admonished gently. "Luke doesn't need us running after him anymore." He raised one eyebrow as he gazed at her worried face. "Do you FEEL that he's in trouble?"

Leia paused, then slowly shook her head. "No, but..."

"Leia, I know you're concerned about your brother," Mon Mothma began, "but I believe you should listen to General Solo. From the transmission, it sounded like Luke thought he would be up to ten days late. He still has several days left of that time frame. And the Lorrdians stated they are willing to wait."

"All right." Leia gave in with a sigh. "But if they've not arrived at the end of those ten days..."

"Then we'll go looking," Han promised.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Morning sunshine broke through the attic room's two glass-paned windows, brighter than ever as it reflected off the snow on nearby rooftops and subsequently awakened the room's sleepy occupants. Occupants whose limbs seemed irreversibly entwined.

Mara gingerly opened one eye, silently cursing the daylight that assaulted her. "It can't be morning already."

"It's not," came a muffled murmur near her ear.

Mara threw back the covers and poked her bedmate with her knee. "We should get up. You said Merta only serves breakfast for an hour after daybreak. Force knows how long the sun's been up already."

Luke groaned, pulling a pillow over his head in protest.

"Aren't you hungry?" Mara persisted, knowing what an appetite he always seemed to have.

Luke finally opened both eyes. Raising himself on one elbow, his gaze raked up and down her nightgown-clad body, devouring her delectable Force aura that was threatening to overwhelm him. "Starved," he breathed.

Mara felt herself falling under his spell. She suddenly shook herself, then reached out and gave her new fiancé a not-so-gentle shove. Luke landed on the floor with a hard thump and a loud 'oomph!'

"Hey! Is that any way to treat the man you love?"

Mara scooted to the edge of the bed and peered down at her victim. "It is when that man starts getting ideas he shouldn't be acting on yet."

Still sprawled on the floor, Luke stretched his limbs, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. Now she was going to start listening to him? He hopped up effortlessly, grinning broadly. "Since you won't let me have breakfast in bed..."

"Aagghh!" Mara flopped back onto the bed.

"...I guess we'll just have to go down to the dining chamber." With an apologetic smile, Luke held out one hand.

Mara gave him a cool stare, then reached out and took his proffered grasp, protesting out of habit as he pulled her into a warm embrace. Her protest soon melted into a passionate kiss.

"Welcome to day one of our betrothal pledge," Luke whispered in her ear.

Pulling away reluctantly, Mara made her way into the refresher, quickly pumping a bowl of cold water to splash on her face and putting on the clothes Luke had brought the evening before. When she emerged, she found Luke had donned a pair of heavy trousers and dark woven shirt.

"You're changed already?" she questioned, looking him over.

Luke glanced down at himself, then suddenly grinned at her. "Why, did you want to watch?"

She stroked one hand down his chest. "You did get to see all of me."

Luke's demeanor turned serious as he spoke. "Mara, you were blue and unconscious. I told you I didn't take time to look." He let a little grin escape. "Besides, you didn't want to see me until the wedding night."

Mara gave him her patented glare, then proceeded to wrinkle her nose as she fingered the heavy ankle-length skirt that was part of her own ensemble. "How much did you have to do with picking out these clothes?"

"I might have given my approval. Why? Don't you like them?"

"I'm grateful to have clean clothes, but..., well, they don't exactly look my style, or Merta's size."

Luke laughed. "I think she said they belonged to her daughter, who left them when she married and moved to another village." He busied himself rolling up his shirt's cuffs. "I got her late husband's things. He must have been taller than me."

"Farmboy, everybody is taller—" She stopped when she saw his frown.

Luke shook his head, then headed for his turn in the refresher.

Mara bent to pull on the animal-hide boots that she'd been loaned, wiggling her left ankle experimentally in the process. So the Jedi's healing techniques did work after all. "At least I won't need—" She paused in her mutterings, looking around the room. "Hmmm. Now where...?"

Mara pursed her lips in thought, then strode boldly into the refresher. "Luke, I can't see—"

Luke was just buttoning up his trousers. "That's because I'm too quick for you."

"That's not--!"

He wagged his finger at her. "I'd consider giving you a peek, but I distinctly remember your saying not till we're married."

Mara narrowed her eyes dangerously. "How did this get turned around to me being the one who wanted to wait?"

"Because I'll never admit to proposing anything that ludicrous." They stared at each other, then burst out laughing.

"Skywalker, your sense of humor hasn't improved since the day I met you."

"Must be your cheery influence."

"Just for that, I'm holding you to this little promise we made, no matter how much you beg."

"Then I'll make an additional promise." He kissed her lightly. "I promise to do my very best to make our wedding night worth the wait."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," she returned, as they renewed their kiss. "But contrary to your shameless presumption, I did not come in here to steal a peek at you."

Luke raised an eyebrow questioningly, an expression of feigned disappointment animating his face.

"I can't seem to remember where I left my walking stick."

Luke's jovial demeanor instantly turned to one of concern. "Is your ankle still bothering you?"

"No, not at all. I just..." She shook her head dismissively. "Never mind."

"Just got sentimentally attached to a stick?" Luke never tired of the perilous game of baiting Mara.

"Bite your tongue!" she snapped back reflexively. "I just... just didn't want anyone to trip over it."

"Sure, dear, anything you say," Luke returned, humoring her with his best smirk. He sobered slightly in the face of her glare, and retraced their steps in his mind. "I think you left it outside the door of the pub last night. I can look this morning, if you like."

"No, don't bother. I don't need it anymore."

"Of course you don't," Luke agreed quickly, puffing out his chest. "Now you have me to lean on."

"Why you—!"

Luke beat a hasty retreat out of the refresher, his laughter permeating Mara's grumbling as she vowed to keep him away from any further influence of Han Solo's arrogant behavior.

Sounds of dishes clattering and voices chattering greeted the pair as they entered the large dining chamber. Half a dozen guests still sat around the large wooden table, most nursing a cup of hot liquid that smelled suspiciously like caf.

A wry grin spread across Merta's face as she spotted the newcomers.

"Aye, here be the thumpers now!"

Hands tightly clasped, Luke and Mara stopped short and stared as all eyes focused on them.

"Excuse me?" Luke managed to squeak out.

"Madam Rosella here," Merta nodded at an elderly white-haired woman who sat smiling at them, "an' her husband have the room right below yers. She was sayin' that just 'fore she came down fer breakfast, she heard a loud thump on her ceiling."

"Oh, that." Mara waved a hand indifferently as she pulled Luke to a pair of empty seats. "That was just Luke falling out of bed."

"You pushed... me..." he corrected, trailing off as he realized he alone was now the center of attention. "I didn't fall," he added in a low mumble as he accepted a bowl of some kind of porridge from Merta.

*Your cheeks are turning a nice shade of pink,* Mara sent with glee, as she dug into her own breakfast portion.

A white-haired gentleman, who turned out to be Madam Rosella's husband, took pity on Luke and turned the conversation to making introductions around the table. As expected, no one had heard of the 'tiny village' of Coruscant, now explained as being at the other edge of the great sea, beyond the adjacent mountain range.

When Luke finished his second helping of the warm porridge, he rose and picked up his empty bowl. "Where should I put this?" he asked their host.

"Oh, let it be, lad," Merta told him. "I'm sure yer lass won't mind helpin' with the clean-up, as part of yer offer to work off yer keep."

Mara blanched noticeably, but to her credit, her voice remained calm as she acquiesced. "No, of course not."

Luke gave her a sly wink as he pushed his chair back. "I need to see the metalcrafter this morning," he said to Merta, "but I'll be back as soon as I can to cut firewood for you. Did you say you had an old coat I could borrow?"

"Aye, indeed, lad." Merta hurried away, then returned with a heavy brown woolen coat, obviously another relic of her late husband. She went on to give Luke directions to Hiley's shop, located at the far end of Zembuhl.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Mara arched one eyebrow expectantly from her seat as Luke finished buttoning the coat and started to head for the door.

He hesitated, then crossed the room and bending down, kissed her on the cheek.

Mara laughed lightly. "I meant, don't you need to get the broken rod to take with you." She gave him a wry smirk. "But that was nice too."

Luke rolled his eyes in exasperation before redirecting his steps toward the stairs, hoping his face would cooperate and stay a neutral color this time.

Mara's gaze turned from following Luke's retreating back, and was immediately confronted with the happily beaming face of her landlady.

"I'm guessin' he managed to keep ye warm all night, heh?" Merta didn't even try to hide her amusement at Mara's discomfort.

"We were fine," she muttered, her eyes now glued to the last remnants of breakfast she was poking at.

The two remaining men at the table soon excused themselves, leaving only the handful of women. Mara started to gather up the empty dishes, but Merta gestured for her to remain sitting.

"We'll have plenty o' time to be workin' soon enough, lass," she commented, as she poured everyone another cup of hot refreshment. Mara found she rather liked the tangy, woody taste of the dark brew.

The topic of discussion soon turned to the Winter Festival, set to begin at noon that very day.

"Aye, 'tis a grand celebration," Merta was explaining proudly to Mara, her voice rising excitedly. "We'll be havin' games and contests, and shows with dancin' and jugglin', and so many different sweets to eat, ye won't know what to sample first. On the last night, there be a huge feast in the Fellowship Hall, where everyone gives thanks fer the blessins' o' the past year, and asks the Divine One to watch o'er us agin in the comin' year."

"Who's the lucky couple bein' bonded this year?" Rosella asked. "Anyone I know?"

Merta's face fell noticeably. "Ah, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidins'." She looked around at her guests. "There'll not be a bondin' this year."

Collective gasps of dismay echoed in the room.

"No!" a younger woman cried.

"Oh, my!" Rosella covered her mouth in consternation.

"Aye," Merta continued. "'Tis a sad thing, to be sure. We'll just have to weather through this season, and hope we have a bondin' next year."

Mara's curiosity got the best of her. "What's this bonding?"

All heads turned her way.

"Ye don't know what a bondin' is?" asked a dark-haired matron in apparent amazement. "You're not bonded to yer young man?"

"You mean married? No."

The other women did not appear judgmental; on the contrary, knowing smiles appeared on their faces. Mara ignored their expressions, and pressed on. "So you usually have a wedding during the festival?"

"Aye," Merta answered first. "On the last day. But we have no couples pledged to marry this year." Seeing the puzzlement on Mara's face, she continued. "A bondin' of a man and woman brings good fortune to our village fer the comin' year. The truer their love, the more bountiful a harvest we have. Ye don't have such a custom in yer own village?"

Mara shook her head. It was too late to change her story now. "No. We... uh... have other rituals to ensure a successful harvest."

Luckily Merta and the others just nodded, and didn't press for details.

"And if you don't have anyone bonded?" Mara continued.

"It's happened only twice in me lifetime," Merta replied. "Both years there were terrible droughts."

"That's..." ridiculous, Mara thought, but she bit her tongue just in time. "... most unfortunate."

"Aye, lass. But there's nothin' to be done 'bout it." Merta pushed herself away from the table. "Well, we'd best get goin' on our bakin'."

"Baking?" Mara paled slightly. "You expect me to...?" Once more she stopped herself. "You want me to help you bake... things?"

Merta gave her a strange look. "I thought ye and Luke offered to lend me a hand, to pay fer yer keep."

Mara felt about a centimeter tall. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I'll be glad to help you."

Merta nodded, and bid farewell to her other guests as she proceeded to the kitchen, a reluctant Mara trailing behind.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Luke easily found his way to Hiley's metalcrafting shop. He also found, however, that though Hiley was there, he wasn't open for business.

"Aye, lad," the long-faced shop owner told Luke. "Another few minutes, and ye would have missed me. I was just pickin' up me hammer."

"But I really need your help," Luke beseeched, pulling out the two pieces of the broken stabilizer rod. "I need to get this repaired, or obtain a new one."

Hiley took the pieces, turning them over with a scrutinizing eye. "Hmmm. A strange metal, this is. Don't know if a weld would hold, depending on how much stress ye put on it. I could fashion ye a new piece, though, sure enough."

Luke started to smile, but his face fell at Hiley's next words.

"In three days."

"But—"

Hiley handed the broken rod back. "I'm closin' up shop durin' the Winter Festival."

"Would you possibly let me borrow your tools, then, so I could do the work myself?" Luke wasn't at all sure he COULD construct a new stabilizer, especially with the antiquated tools he'd observed in the shop, but he wasn't above grasping at straws.

Hiley gave a little chuckle. "Lad, I never laid eyes on ye before. I don't even let me friends use me tools."

Luke bit his lip uneasily. Mara was not going to like this.

"Can you work on it, then, as soon as the festival is over?"

"Aye, be glad to." He looked Luke up and down. "I'm guessing ye be one of the two strangers I heard 'bout that came in to the Red Bone last night."

"Yes."

"Well, at least ye had enough sense to come in out o' the rain. I'm on me way over to the pub now. We're meetin' there to finish up buildin' the festival booths." He laid a callused hand on Luke's shoulder. "Come, walk with me, and tell me just what kind of contraption that bar you're needin' so bad is from."

Luke was as vague as possible in his explanation as he walked beside the amiable man. He was already calculating in his head how many days behind schedule this setback was going to put them, not to mention being stuck on this mystifying planet for several more days. No, Mara was not going to like this at all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mara did her best to keep up with the instructions issued by her new 'boss.' It was painfully obvious to Merta, however, that the girl had never baked a narberry pie or loaf of lockabie brown bread in her life.

"No, child, ye must whip it harder," the elder woman directed. "Ye want the custard to be as smooth as the cheeks of a newborn babe."

Mara increased her physical effort in her task, but her mental ruminations were parsecs away. It occurred to her this was probably how Luke coped with all the drudgery his uncle put him though -- by daydreaming of his future. But Mara's reflections were vastly different from those of a teenaged moisture farmer. For Mara was now an engaged woman -- engaged to marry that farmer turned hero turned Jedi Knight, the man who had once been her enemy, and would now be her lover. Anticipation of that role coursed through her, eclipsing the tediousness of her present circumstances.

What irony, Mara thought. She and Luke were ready to marry, and this superstitious hamlet NEEDED someone to get married. She wondered briefly if... No, Mara shook her head to herself. Luke was going to get that stabilizer fixed, and with any luck they could be on their way back to the ship before nightfall. Besides, she couldn't imagine Luke wanting to get married without his sister and friends in attendance. But still, it couldn't hurt to make some inquiries. Luke wouldn't need to know.

"Child?"

Mara realized she had stopped stirring, and was standing there motionless, deep in thought, holding the bowl and wooden spoon in an iron grip.

"Oh, sorry." She started to resume her actions, when Merta reached out and took the bowl from her. "I think ye've beat it to death already, lass."

"Merta, I was wondering..."

"Hmmm?"

"About this bonding ceremony, at the end of the Festival. When there aren't any engaged couples here, do you ever go looking for one, from another village?"

"If they're from another village, they get wedded there, with their own kinfolk."

"But if for some reason, they wanted to get... wedded... here -- would it count? I mean, would your village still be... blessed... if the man and woman didn't actually live here. Has it ever happened?"

Merta paused, considering. "Well, lass, me family has been here for nigh twenty generations, and I can only remember tales of it happenin' once. When I was a wee child, me great-grandmother told of a Festival where a young lad and his intended were visitin' from a distant countryside. Zembuhl had no one marryin' that year, and folks were in a panic, as they had just had a drought the season before, cause of there bein' no bondin'. As I recall the tale, this young lass found herself in a family way, and it didn't take too much persuadin' by the village to talk the pair into marryin' here, 'stead of waitin' till they returned home."

"So there was a good harvest that year?"

"Good enough to tide folks over. Why all the questions, child?" Merta smiled. This was the most interest the young woman had shown in any topic since she'd arrived the evening before.

"Just curious," Mara murmured. 'Curious' -- now there was a word that hadn't been part of her vocabulary until she met a certain blonde Jedi. She had been curious about him from day one. He'd intrigued her, bewildered her, and ultimately transformed her. He'd taught her that curiosity wasn't such a bad thing, contrary to the brutal indoctrination she'd received under Palpatine's tutelage.

It was shortly before lunchtime that Merta put the last of the pastries into the fire-heated oven. As she slowly straightened up, she noticed her new apprentice had a distant look on her face.

"Luke's coming back," the younger woman suddenly blurted out.

"How—?" Merta began, but Mara was already rushing toward the front entryway.

Mara flung her arms around Luke's neck as soon as he entered the hall and kissed him enthusiastically.

"Are you this glad to see me?" Luke laughed as they pulled apart slightly. "Or just glad for an excuse to get out of the kitchen?"

"Definitely the latter." Mara smirked, still clutching him around the waist. "I decided hours ago to run and kiss the first man who came through the door."

"Well, lucky me." Luke kissed her lightly on the nose. "Somebody has flour all over herself," he observed, brushing the coarse powder off his own chest.

"And somebody..." Mara returned, looking him over carefully before a frown appeared on her face, "...isn't holding a repaired stabilizer rod."

Luke's shoulders sagged in dejection. "I know."

"Well? This Hiley person couldn't repair it?"

"Yes and no," he answered cryptically.

Mara's upraised brow let him know he'd better explain, and fast.

"He thinks he can make a new one from a kind of metal he uses, called diron. I looked at some samples; it seemed strong enough to do the job, and would probably be a better choice than trying to weld the old one together."

"And he's working on this even as we speak?"

"Not exactly." Luke let go of her to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit Mara recognized all too well. She waited silently for him to continue.

Luke raised his eyes in an obvious plea for understanding. "He'll make the new rod... as soon as the Festival is over."

Mara narrowed her eyes sharply. "What's that got to do with it?"

"He closes up shop during the Festival; takes a vacation. I just happened to catch him there this morning."

"And you couldn't... convince him... to do this one little job first?" She waved one hand in front of his face to demonstrate her meaning.

Luke sighed and leaned back against the wall. "I'm not going to use the Force like that. This isn't a life and death emergency. We'll just wait until the Festival is over."

"We'll be that much later getting to Lorrd."

"I know. It can't be helped." He reached out and ran a finger through the wisps of hair that had escaped her braid. "I'm sorry."

Mara shrugged. If he wasn't going to get upset over being late for the negotiations, she sure wasn't going to either. "Not your fault. I suppose we can tough it out here a few more days."

Luke compressed his lips and looked at her intently. "Mara, there's something I want to talk to you about."

They both backed closer to the wall as a pair of guests entered, brushing past them on their way to the stairway. Mara took Luke's hand and tugged him into the deserted dining chamber, toward a pair of chairs tucked in an inglenook next to the fireplace. He slipped off his coat as they sat facing each other.

"I was helping some of the men finish putting up booths this morning, and they were describing to me the different customs that go on during this Festival," Luke began hesitantly.

Mara nodded for him to continue.

"They told me that there is always a wedding on the last night, but this year there won't be one."

Mara quickly hid her own knowledge of the same subject, wanting to hear what he had to say first. Luke seemed too lost in his thoughts to even notice her shift in emotions.

"They have this notion that all their crops will fail if no one marries during the Festival." He paused, waiting for her reaction.

"That's pretty superstitious," she responded flippantly.

"Of course it is," he agreed. "Apparently all these little towns have similar folklore."

"Probably so."

"So I imagine these mystic rituals can only involve the residents of each particular village."

"No, there was at least one time when a pair of visitors from another village was bonded here, and their crops survived," Mara gushed out quickly, causing Luke to look up in surprise. She shrugged self-consciously. "Merta was explaining it to me, too."

They both stared at each other, neither wanting to be the first to voice the possible course of action that they were both obviously contemplating.

Luke finally swallowed, and drew a nervous breath. "We do have to stay here now for at least three more days, anyway."

"Which means we'll have that much more to repay Merta and the others for," Mara replied with an expressionless face.

Luke nodded. "We should do something more worthwhile than just cutting firewood and baking bread."

"Even if we think this folklore is nonsense, they all believe in it."

"And we should respect their customs."

They paused, studying each other's emotions.

Mara finally decided she'd better get to the point, or Luke would dither over this indefinitely. "Leia and your friends wouldn't like it if they missed seeing us get married."

He surprised her by rebuffing that excuse immediately. "They'd get over it."

"We don't even know if a marriage here would be legally binding for us."

"It should be as legal as on any other planet," he countered.

Mara bit her lip nervously. "We wouldn't be doing this just so we could have guilt-free sex sooner," she muttered.

"Of course not," Luke shot back without hesitation.

The tension in the air was so thick they both felt like they were suffocating. Mara inhaled sharply when Luke abruptly grasped both her hands and slid to his knees in front of her.

"Mara," he began, drawing on the Force to keep his voice calm. "Would you do me the honor of marrying me here, during the Festival?"

Wondering what happened to her helper, Merta peeked out of the kitchen doorway to see the young couple engaged in a quiet conversation in the corner of the adjoining room. She couldn't make out their whispering, but she could see the way they were focused entirely on each other. The kindly innkeeper watched as Luke suddenly fell to his knees, and like a bolt from out of the blue, the young man's actions brought to Merta's mind an image of her own beloved husband proposing to her, so many years ago. Her eyes widened as she recalled all the queries Mara had made about the bonding ceremony, and how affectionate the pair had been to each other at breakfast. Could it be...?

A tear of unabashed joy trickled down Merta's cheek as she heard Mara exclaim "Yes!"

=================================================================================

Although the small hamlet of Zembuhl had many visitors during its Winter Festival, Luke and Mara were already widely recognized as 'the strangers.' Their speech, their attire upon arrival, their hairstyles and mannerisms -- all served to set them apart immediately from the inhabitants of the obscure, isolated planet.

The news of the bonding of these two strangers spread like wildfire through the close-knit community. Within a few hours of Mara and Luke's informing Merta of their decision, everyone in Zembuhl was reveling over the unexpected salvation of the village's annual ritual.

Mara Jade drew her shawl close about her head, hoping to escape recognition as she plodded through the snow back to the boarding house. Detecting Luke's familiar presence, she circled around to the high wooden fence that enclosed the rear of Merta's property. Stepping through the back gate, she stifled an admiring grin as she crossed her arms and stood to watch.

His jacket discarded on the ground and his sleeves rolled up above his elbows, Luke wiped his brow before setting a chunk of cut timber onto a large tree stump. With a low grunt, he heaved an antiquated ax over his shoulder and brought it down to neatly split the log down the middle.

"So you can do manual labor," Mara teased, her eyes following the trails of sweat down his muscular forearms as he systematically repeated his motions on each half of the log. A large mound of similarly dispatched firewood was testament to his morning's labors.

"Of course I can." His indignant expression was suddenly replaced by a sly wink. "But watch this!" He reached down and pulled his lightsaber from the folds of his rumpled coat.

Casting a quick glance around the partitioned-off work yard, Luke tossed a half-meter-long log into the air. Quickly igniting his saber, he effortlessly split the piece of wood lengthwise into four nearly equal sections before it ever hit the ground.

"Skywalker, what do you think you're doing?" Mara growled, forcing a stern look onto her beautiful countenance as she swept out with the Force for any possible eavesdroppers.

"I want to keep in practice," Luke responded, throwing two logs at once to demonstrate his prowess and just barely making the final swipes in time. "Yoda had me do this with silver bars for hours on end."

"You're going to have a lot of explaining to do if anyone sees that lightsaber," his audience scolded. She did her best to hide how impressed she'd been with his display.

"Ahh, you're no fun," he returned with a chuckle, as he shut down the glowing green blade. "I made sure it was only you within sight."

"ONLY me? Thanks a lot." Mara made her way over to a bench near the back door and plopped down wearily. "How did I get stuck going out into that mob to deliver pies and cakes, and you got to stay here and chop things?!" she grumbled irritably.

Luke frowned in surprise. "So the townspeople weren't happy about our marriage plans?"

"Oh, quite the contrary." Mara groaned, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the back of the clapboard structure. "If one more person even thinks about trying to hug me, I'll be whipping out my saber."

Luke had just sat down beside her, and was about to reach out when Mara's last words stopped him cold. She blinked open one emerald eye, riveting him in place. "And if you don't put an arm around me," she muttered in warning, "you could be the first victim."

Luke smiled and pulled her into a warm embrace. "Sorry," he sympathized. "Guess we should have seen that coming, judging by Merta's reaction and how friendly the others have been so far."

"Well, no one actually wept like she did, but they were practically on their knees, thanking their Divine One for sending us here." Mara snuggled her head against Luke's shoulder. "I thought your toolcrafting buddy was trying to squeeze the breath out of me."

Luke pursed his lips uneasily. "You didn't hurt him, did you?"

"Might have accidentally stepped on his toe," she murmured. "Shouldn't prevent him from making the new stabilizer rod."

Luke kissed the top of her head softly. "I'll try to intervene when we go out this evening."

"Sure, you like getting hugs." She looked up at his dancing eyes. "Why do we have to participate in this primitive carnival, anyway?"

"Mara, we can't just hide in our room until the wedding," he reasoned.

"Sounds like a good plan to me," she countered, reaching up and stroking his wind-chapped cheek with her gloved fingers. "I'm certain we could find plenty of things to occupy ourselves."

Luke winced slightly in regret. "Too many things, I'm afraid." He squeezed her tightly against himself. "It's only for a couple more days," he began, getting back to the subject of the villagers. "Surely we can suffer through a host of well-wishers that long. Soon we'll be on our way back to the ship, and back out to the mawrat-race of the rest of the galaxy."

Mara let out a deep sigh. "And then? You enjoy being with people, Luke. I don't. You like being surrounded by friends. I like my privacy."

"Hey." He tilted her face up toward his. "You know me better than that. Yes, I'm glad to see my friends, but I don't like big crowds. I would much rather be alone, especially alone with you."

"I don't think that particular fact thrills your sister."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you notice that scowl on her face when she comes looking for you, and finds us alone together?"

Luke was silent a moment. "Well, yes, but she only seeks me out when I'm late for some meeting or appointment. I'm sure that's why she always frowns."

Mara shook her head. Men could be so dense sometimes. "She usually has a smile on her face until she sees me. I told you months ago that she and Han didn't trust me. They still don't."

Luke looked down at their joined hands on his lap. "I should have made more of an effort to include you when I got together with them and my other friends."

"Which would have only strengthened everyone's supposition that we've been sleeping together all this time."

"What?!"

"Though in hindsight," Mara continued thoughtfully, ignoring his interruption, "your not including me probably reinforced the notion that much more. It wouldn't do for the Jedi war hero to be flaunting his lover, after all. Especially one that had been a court dancer."

"Now wait a minute. I told Han and Leia you weren't just an ordinary dancer."

"Eventually. Which made it look like you were ashamed for them to think what the rest of Coruscant thinks."

She put her hand over his mouth when he started to object again. "You didn't really believe those thugs in the Ranat Roost were the only ones who consider us 'involved,' did you?"

This time Luke made no attempt to reply, his eyes betraying his reflective pondering.

"To get back to my point, I doubt Leia is going to welcome the news of our nuptials with open arms, and I'm afraid that is going to bother you more than you realize." She raised his bare left hand and gave it a gentle kiss. "Despite your rather hasty remark this morning that she'd 'get over it.'"

Luke drew in a deep breath of frigid air, then exhaled slowly. "I guess we'll just take things a step at a time when we get back." He looked at her, his eyes shining with love as he squeezed her hands. "I don't want to postpone our plans," he said softly.

"Good," she mouthed back, as their heads drew closer. *Because I'm looking forward to being your wife,* she sent, their lips meeting in a soft kiss that quickly escalated into a fervent embrace.

*Merta's coming,* Luke alerted Mara a few minutes later, though he didn't pull back.

*So?* Mara returned, clutching him even tighter. *I'm sure betrothed couples are allowed to kiss, even here. In fact, everyone here also thinks we're doing more than just kissing.*

At that, Luke broke the kiss and grinned sheepishly. "We're fooling people all over the galaxy!"

Any comeback Mara might have made was cut off by the creaking of the boarding house's back door. "I suspected I might find ye two lovepups hidin' out back here." The weathered skin around the jolly matron's eyes crinkled with laughter. "But there be a whole batch o' folks who can't wait to meet ye."

"I thought I already met everyone possible this afternoon," Mara said with a moan, though she was smiling at the jovial landlady.

"Child, that was only a smidgen of the bodies attendin' Festival tonight. And ev'ry one of 'em is hopin' fer a bit of yer favor."

"I've been trying to convince her to get going," Luke declared, rising and tugging on Mara's arm.

"I could see that right off when I came out." The older woman winked at him, her eyes twinkling merrily. "Ye have interestin' ways of persuadin' in that village of yers."

"Hmmm... yes... well..." Luke grinned guiltily as he headed toward the pieces of wood lying scattered on the ground. "Let me just stack this in the woodshed first."

It was at that moment that Merta noticed all the firewood piled haphazardly near the chopping block.

"Land's sakes!" she exclaimed, pulling her wrap around her shoulders as she stepped out for a better look. "Ye split all that while we were gone? By yerself?"

"Yes, ma'am." Luke paused with his armload of kindling. "I guess I got a little carried away."

Mara glanced at Luke, relieved to see he had once more hidden his lightsaber inside his jacket. "Farmboy never knows when to stop," she joked.

Merta frowned at her statement, then turned to Luke. "I thought ye were a fisherman?"

Luke shot Mara a 'thanks a lot' look. "I used to be a farmhand, growing up."

"Yer family still work the land?" Merta inquired curiously.

"No. My aunt and uncle did, but they've passed away. They brought me up on their farm." He gave Merta a heartfelt smile. "You remind me of my Aunt Beru." His sincere compliment also served to distract Merta from asking any more details about this 'farm.' Luke could just imagine trying to explain that their main crop was water.

"Do I now?" The plump woman laughed. "In a good way?"

"Absolutely," he returned with a grin. "She was a very special woman."

"She musta been, to raise up a fine lad like yerself."

Mara smiled to herself as the two talked. Luke had related several tales to her of his youth, and the opposite temperaments that his aunt and uncle had possessed. She knew, of course, of the stolen plans to the first Death Star, but didn't realize until recently that Luke's guardians were murdered in the attempted retrieval of those plans. She thanked the stars that those were two executions not on her already-burdened conscience.

A short while later, the woodshed was overflowing with neatly stacked firewood, and Merta and her newest guests joined the stream of partygoers flowing toward the evening's festivities. Lively, foot-stomping music drifted through the cold night air as they drew close, and brightly-lit paper lanterns threw colorful reflections across the crowded town square.

Merta soon excused herself and hurried off to greet visiting friends she'd not seen since last year, leaving Luke and Mara to fend for themselves against the gushing tide of well-intentioned congratulations. Luke did his best to divert the more overbearing of the throng, but neither was immune to the affable back-slapping, hand-shaking, kiss-on-the-cheek gestures. Eventually they were able to move along and explore the diverse booths erected around the festival grounds.

"Hey, Skywalker, look! Games of skill!" Mara tugged him in the direction of several stalls where men were engaging in various competitive activities. "These all look like a cinch. We could win at any of these. Heck, I could beat YOU at any of these." She gave him a conceited smirk.

"Oh, you think so, do you?" he rallied back, easily rising to her baiting. "I could outscore you standing on my head."

"Humph. I could outdo you blindfolded," she shot back, grinning. She loved the verbal sparring with Luke as much as any actual matches.

"All right." Luke accepted the challenge. "You pick. Whichever contest you like, I'm ready."

They stopped at a nearby booth and watched as compacted snowballs were hurled toward bottles balancing precariously atop one another on small ledges.

"Let's try this one," Mara suggested eagerly, salivating at the prospect of showing up both the locals and her fiancé. "Be prepared to put your money where your mouth is."

"Hmmm. Money. That could be a problem." Luke glanced at the proprietor questioningly.

"Just one deka, friend," the jovial young man invited, his rakish cap sitting jauntily atop his dark curls. "Knock three down with one throw, and win yer pretty lass a treasure." He waved a hand toward a row of gaudy trinkets. "Knock all nine down with three throws, and ye get double yer dekas back."

Luke turned toward his companion. "Mara, we don't have—"

He was interrupted by the booming voice of Efam, the pub owner. "Jaco Modesa, ye can't be a-chargin' this lad! This be the pair that's gettin' hitched durin' the Festival."

"Ye don't say?!" Jaco held out three frozen spheres to Luke. "Have a go at it with me complements then, me friend."

Luke took the proffered projectiles with a word of thanks, and promptly knocked down all the targets in rapid succession. A cheer arose, and Jaco graciously handed him two dekas.

"But I didn't pay anything," Luke protested. "You don't have to give me any winnings."

"Nonsense!" the young man returned. "Ye earned yer prize, and I'd be shirkin' me duty not to pay."

Luke picked up one of the coins and held it out. "Then let me pay for a second round."

Within minutes, the Jedi now clutched three coins, and was contemplating his third attempt when Mara grabbed his arm.

"Hey, it's my turn. Move over and let me throw."

Muffled gasps sounded from the small crowd that had congregated, and Luke detected worried looks on their faces. Efam leaned over and whispered in his ear, eliciting a dangerous narrowing of Mara's emerald eyes as she watched Luke frown in consternation.

"What's wrong?" she growled, as he pulled her aside.

Luke swallowed nervously, then revealed in a hushed voice, "Women aren't allowed to compete in these games."

"What?! Why not?" she cried out in a huff, making no attempt to hide her resentment. Nothing rankled Mara Jade worse than being prohibited from engaging in an activity simply because of her sex.

"It's just their way, Mara," he said, trying to pacify her. "It's nothing against you. We should have noticed that only men are participating in all these contests."

Mara glanced around and confirmed his words; the few women that stood nearby were only watching as their husbands/beaus/brothers demonstrated their aim and dexterity. "This is ridiculous." She bristled with indignation. "Women can knock over little bottles just as well as men."

*Mara, don't make a scene,* Luke pleaded silently.

"Don't make a scene?!" she exploded aloud, her temper flaring to life and her fists clenching at her sides. Mara's anticipation of vying with Luke was quickly forgotten in light of encountering yet another example of what was an all-too-frequent injustice throughout the galaxy.

"Not even married yet, and she kin already read his mind," one bystander guffawed.

"She's strong, too, for bein' just a slip of a lass," Hiley the metalcrafter put in. "Me big toe's still throbbin'."

"Aye, he'll have his hands full with that spitfire," another patron concurred. He instantly fell silent when Mara speared him with a lethal glare.

"Mara... dear..." Luke laid a hand tentatively on her arm. "I'm sure there are activities here the women take part in."

"Don't you 'Mara, dear' me." She turned her wrath on her fiancé. "Or you'll be sleeping on the floor tonight."

Hoots and catcalls echoed from the growing crowd, and Luke's expression suddenly hardened. He yanked Mara out of earshot.

"I can't believe you approve of this." She didn't miss a beat in her ranting. "I thought you Rebels fought against bigotry." Mara had been surrounded by prejudice in the Empire; having it directed at her was not something she had ever accepted willingly.

"Of course I don't approve, but you're making too big of a deal out of this. We need to fit in here," he growled, "not see how much of an uproar we can cause."

"You just go ahead and fit right in, Farmboy," she spat back. "These yokels are your kind of riffraff, anyway."

"I don't care what you say about me, I'm plenty used to it, but there's no reason to ridicule these people." Luke's voice was low and threatening, and his grip on her arm tightened. "They have been nothing but gracious and helpful, and to insult their way of living is inexcusable."

"Well, I guess there's just no excuse for me then, is there?" With a violent jerk, Mara pulled her arm away. Whirling around, she disappeared from sight as the crowd hurriedly parted to let the steaming redhead through.

Luke bit his bottom lip as he watched the retreating figure of the woman he loved.

"She's a might high-strung," someone murmured in a gravelly voice near his ear. Luke turned to see Efam giving him a knowing nod.

"Aye, me own dear wife had a sharp tongue when we married, nigh thirty years ago," Hiley said, clapping an arm around Luke's shoulders and leading him over to a bench near the gaming booth.

"And now?" Luke asked hopefully. Perhaps women mellowed a bit after years of marriage.

"She still does, o' course," Hiley said with a broad grin. "Keeps a spark of excitement in our conjugal doins'," he added with a wink to the wide-eyed Jedi.

"Womenfolk always feel more easygoin' after a good tumble," Efam advised, coming up with two tankards of ale and handing one to Luke. "Yer keeping her satisfied, ain't ye?"

"Excuse me?" Luke sputtered, nearly choking on his first swallow.

"In yer bed," the pub owner elaborated.

"Uh, we're not married yet," Luke protested, looking back and forth at the smiling faces of his companions.

"Yer sharin' that big bed over at Merta's," Hiley contradicted, leaning lazily against a corner of the booth.

Luke stared in confusion, wondering how Hiley could have obtained such information. Gossip must travel faster here than it did in Anchorhead.

"Aye, but the lass pushed him out of it this mornin'," put in Madame Rosella's husband, Gerd, who sat down next to Luke.

"That must be it, then," a smiling Hiley concluded.

"I don't think—" Luke began, before being cut off by the toolcrafter.

"Is she always contrary when ye haven't tickled her fancy?"

She's always contrary, period, thought Luke. He glanced at the expectant faces waiting for his answer. This was a topic he hadn't even felt comfortable enough to discuss with Han. But he remembered what he'd just told Mara, about these villagers being only gracious and helpful.

"Maybe he hasn't had a roll in the hay with her yet," Jaco piped up.

Luke had never heard that particular phrase before, but it didn't take a hyperdrive designer to know what it meant. The guilty look on his face enforced Jaco's conjecture.

"Ye haven't, have ye, lad?" Hiley smiled in sympathy.

"Not exactly," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the tankard of ale clutched in his hand.

"I knew it!" Jaco whooped. "He's got that same pinin' look I used to have, 'fore me and Aerie took our first tumble."

"And you two been a-tumblin' ever since." Efam laughed heartily. "Jaco and his lass were bonded at Festival last year," he went on, as Luke's gaze fell on the young gamer.

"Aye, and come spring we'll have a new young one to show fer it," Jaco announced proudly, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Ye and yer miss hopin' fer a big brood o' children?" Gerd asked Luke, his knobby throat bobbing as he spoke.

Luke's head swiveled to the older man. "We, uh, haven't thought much about it yet," he admitted. We've only been engaged less than a day, he reflected to himself. And getting married in less than two.

"Ahh, there be nothin' finer than strong sons and comely daughters," Efam proclaimed. He thrust a new mug of ale into Luke's hand.

"No, thanks, I still..." The young Jedi halted in his refusal when he noticed the tankard he held had been drained dry.

"Now then, lad." Efam clapped Luke on the shoulder. "What say we earn ye a few more dekas?"

Luke glanced in the direction Mara had gone. "I really should..." But Hiley and Efam were both guiding him back toward the gaming booths.

"Riled up womenfolk need time to cool off," Hiley advised. "The worst thing ye can do is go runnin' after 'em."

Though misgivings bounced around in his jumbled mind, Luke knew from past experiences that a cooling off period for both Mara and him was not without merit. He didn't protest as the other men drew him into their lively circle of good will and gambling.

=================================================================================

Mara wasn't at all sure where she was headed when she stormed away from Luke, only that she needed to put as much space between herself and that know-it-all Jedi as she could. The nerve of him, treating her like an insolent child. Why, he...

A melodious voice rang out. "Mara!"

Mara looked up to see a young woman stepping lightly through the snow, her blonde curls bouncing against her small shoulders.

"I was hopin' ye'd come to the Festival," the newcomer said, smiling gaily.

Mara eyed the vaguely familiar-looking girl suspiciously.

Nonplussed by Mara's apprehensive demeanor, the girl introduced herself. "I'm Aerie. Aerie Modesa. We met this mornin' when ye were helpin' Merta bring pies over."

"Oh, yes, of course," the redhead returned, as Luke's recent lecture on being friendly echoed in her mind.

"Is yer beau with ye?" Aerie continued, looking behind Mara. "I thought I might get to meet him."

"No, he's over there," Mara gestured over her shoulder with a grimace, "busy knocking down bottles."

Aerie laughed merrily. "Then he's at me husband Jaco's booth. Jaco runs the general goods shop with his brother, but he always puts up a stand fer the Festival." She leaned closer and grinned. "Those menfolk could spend all day fritterin' away their time at those games. I meself prefer somethin' with a little more action."

Mara looked at the young woman in surprise. "Such as?"

"Well, I was on me way over to the fishin' pond, to go glidin'."

"Gliding?" Mara noticed the pair of thin metal blades Aerie had slung over her shoulder.

"Aye. The pond is frozen o'er solid, and is near perfect fer ice glidin'. Would ye like to join me?"

"Yes, that sounds like fun," Mara consented. She wasn't sure exactly what ice gliding consisted of, but it had to beat wandering along, dwelling on her argument with Luke. So she and Aerie set off across the white-blanketed Festival grounds, pausing on their way to watch a group of children enthusiastically carving imaginative sculptures out of compacted snow.

"Look at that one!" Aerie grinned, pointing to an especially large figure. "Ain't that a sight?"

Mara squinted at the snowy effigy of some type of quadruped. "What is it supposed to be?"

Aerie gave her a strange look. "Why, it's a feraline," she said. "And a right good likeness. Don't tell me ye've never seen one."

Mara's mind raced. Obviously this was some common animal. Once again Luke's exhortation about fitting in sprang unbidden to her mind. "Yes, of course I have," she answered with a smile. "I meant, what do you think it's supposed to be doing?"

"Oh." Aerie didn't sound quite convinced by Mara's reply, but she let it pass. "Let's ask. Thal!" she called to one of the boys patting snow on a leg of the beast. "What is yer feraline doin'? Climbin' a hill?"

"No!" The buck-toothed boy of about twelve snorted indignantly. "It's about to attack a rishhare, and tear it limb from limb with its big teeth." The boy made an exaggerated roaring noise.

"Oh, my!" The blonde woman put a hand to her mouth in mock fright. "How dangerous!"

"Aye, so ye better watch out!" Thal growled, pawing his hand in the air before turning back to his handiwork.

"Charming lad," Mara commented dryly, as the two women resumed their trek to the outskirts of the village.

"Humph." Aerie smirked in agreement. "That one's a scalawag, fer sure. Ahh, here we be."

Mara looked ahead to see a moderate-sized body of water, its surface completely frozen over. Strings of colored streamers decorated oil lamps set on high posts surrounding the pond, casting colorful reflections across the frosty expanse. Young and old observers alike crowded on wooden benches, taking advantage of the unobstructed view of the swirling action.

Aerie immediately struck up conversations with several Festival visitors, each of them greeting Mara warmly. Offers to lend the newcomer a pair of blades appeared from all directions. Before she knew it, the redhead was gliding across the ice; both the Force and her own natural ability made keeping her balance effortless.

Mara had witnessed various forms of turbo-skating over the years, all on artificial rinks, and had even had the opportunity to go turbo-skiing once at Imperial Center's polar region. But neither compared to the soothing relaxation of leisurely sweeping along on the smooth, icy surface. Even warm-weather-loving Luke would enjoy this, Mara thought suddenly, a sense of emptiness creeping into her being that he was not beside her.

Mara glanced aside as Aerie flew past, her gleeful laughter betraying her unfettered delight. Suddenly the young blonde spun to an abrupt halt, shards of ice flying, as a shrill voice screeched her name from the bank.

"Aerie Modesa! What in stars' sake do ye think yer doin?!"

Mara noted a thin, long-faced woman glaring harshly at her companion.

"Me Aunt Pit," Aerie whispered, as she slowly glided toward the elder woman.

"Have ye no sense at all rattlin' 'round in that empty head of yers?" the dowager ranted.

"I'm doin' just fine, Auntie." Aerie tried to reassure her over-protective relative. "I been glidin' since I could walk."

"Ye've got more than yerself to think of now, child. Ye can't be takin' risks like this."

"I won't fall," the younger woman declared emphatically, her mouth set in grim determination. "I'm just with child, not an invalid," she called behind her as she resumed her graceful motions.

Keeping up with her new friend's steady pace, Mara gave a wide-eyed sweeping gaze at Aerie's figure, which was swathed with heavy clothing. "You're pregnant?"

"Aye." The bubbly blonde smiled broadly, the cold, brisk wind reddening her cheeks. "I'm just over halfway along."

"Your first?" Mara asked, berating herself for not noticing.

Aerie nodded affirmatively. "Jaco and me were bonded at the last Festival." She gave Mara a sly sideways grin, then turned and began gliding backwards. "Perhaps ye'll be expectin' a wee one this time next year?"

"Oh, I don't think—" Suddenly Mara's danger sense flared. A small girl flew toward them, her concentration directed toward keeping her balance rather than watching out for others. Aerie cried out as she collided with the youngster, and a hard fall seemed inevitable, until an invisible force reached out to steady them both.

"Are you all right?" Mara questioned worriedly, as she quickly clasped Aerie by the elbow.

"Aye," the blonde murmured in relief and confusion. A quick check satisfied everyone that the little girl was also unharmed, and was now on her way to face the reprimanding tongue of her mother.

"Come, let's rest a bit," Mara advised, guiding her friend over to an unoccupied bench along the bank.

"I know I shouldna' been glidin' backwards, but, Mara," Aerie turned wide-eyed to her companion, "it was like a spirit held me up! Just before ye touched me, I could feel... somethin'... keepin' me from fallin'."

"Maybe you're just better at balancing yourself than you thought." Mara was hoping to dissuade her friend from the idea of mysterious spirits. These people were superstitious enough as it was, without the Force being involved too.

"Maybe," Aerie agreed, although a doubtful frown still filled her expression before she shook it off. "I think I've had me fill of glidin' tonight. What say we go taste some sweets, 'fore me Auntie gets wind of me nearly breakin' me stubborn neck?"

"Sure," Mara replied, already slipping off her blades. "I've worked up an appetite anyway."

"Oh, me too! But then, I'm always hungry now." Aerie patted her abdomen with a laugh, and after returning Mara's borrowed blades, the two set off for a nearby brightly lit building.

Nearly two hours later, Mara had bid Aerie goodnight and was headed back toward Merta's inn, her head swirling with jumbled thoughts as she automatically exchanged greetings with those she passed. Though she had, surprisingly enough, enjoyed her time with the effervescent Aerie Modesa, the image of Luke's pained expression at the gaming booth never left her mind. Arguing with each other had become somewhat of a pastime for the two of them over the last couple months, and getting engaged apparently had not dissolved that tendency. But this was the first time she could remember regretting her sharp rebukes.

All evening, every passing sight of a man and a woman gliding across the ice arm in arm, or stuffing flavorful treats in each other's mouths, had made her long to share those experiences with Luke. She didn't need to consciously reach out with the Force to know he hadn't returned to the inn yet, and she refrained from using their bond to check on his whereabouts. Discovering he was currently involved in, or worse yet, delighting in, some macho competitive diversion would do nothing to improve her melancholy mood, she decided. Especially when she herself knew no rivals in the realm of competitiveness.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was just as well Mara hadn't used the Force to eavesdrop on her fiancé, since at that moment Luke was indeed vying in a boisterous contest of skill. For the first hour after Mara's resentful, indignant departure, he both brooded over their argument and reflected on the other men's well-meaning assertions as to the underlying cause of their bickering. Hiley, Efam, and the rest of the group took note of Luke's dispirited demeanor and endeavored, successfully, to include him in their merry-making. After making the rounds at the various gaming booths, which netted the Jedi a sizable collection of dekas, the group moved to the Lucky Red Bone Pub. There the contest of choice consisted of hurling small metal projectiles at concentric circles painted on a large board hanging on one wall. These tackdarts, as they were called, were small stylus-shaped picks, sharpened to a keen point, with brightly-colored feathers added for balance.

Luke had tossed his share of photon darts over the years -- a favorite pastime in pilots' lounges and second-rate bars. Even Fixer had had an old tracedart game in the back room of Tosche Station. Tackdarts turned out to be merely a primitive version of the same thing.

Luke's ability to hit the center circle with every throw earned him both the admiration of his fellow competitors, and an even heavier pocketful of the local currency. That the admiration didn't turn into envy Luke attributed to two facts -- that he would only be in Zembuhl a few more days, and, of course, his upcoming bonding.

Finally, though, the Jedi felt compelled to call a halt to his consistent winning streak. The locals, however, wouldn't hear of letting him sit on the sidelines. Instead, they began wagering amongst themselves as to how many perfect throws Luke could make in a row.

The young soon-to-be newlywed sat waiting while Efam collected the latest round of bets. Luke raised his mug for another swallow, and realized he had already finished it. He stared at the bottom of the empty tankard. How many of these did I drink? he thought. Five? Six? And that was just since the group had adjourned to the Red Bone. He vaguely remembered having several refills back at the festival booths.

"We're ready, lad," Hiley announced, gesturing toward the target. "I've got ye pegged fer fifteen more perfect tosses, so don't ye be lettin' me down."

Luke stood, a bit shakily, and took the quartet of tackdarts he was handed. Taking a deep breath to steady his hand... When had he ever had to consciously steady his hand?... Luke let loose the volley in rapid succession. Four bull's-eyes. Just like shooting womprats...

Efam stepped forward to refill the Jedi's tankard.

"No, no thanks." Luke waved him off. "I've had enough." More than enough, he thought, as he prepared to throw again.

"Just six more, Luke!" called out Jaco, who had relinquished temporary management of his gaming booth to his cousin.

"No, eight," put in Gerd, his wrinkled face grinning in anticipation of a substantial payoff.

"Let the lad concentrate," Hiley ordered the others, before quietly adding aside to Luke, "A dozen more, son."

Luke nodded as he toed the mark on the worn floor. He wouldn't deliberately favor anyone's wagered number. He knew from past rounds the men would simply put down new bets on higher guesses when he surpassed their current speculations.

The blond youth squinted as he eyed the gameboard. Why did it seem a little blurry? No matter, he could do this with his eyes closed. He reached back, then let go. Bull's-eye again. Just barely. As he rolled the second tackdart in his fingers, Luke had an odd, queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had he eaten something that didn't agree with him? Come to think of it, had he eaten anything at all this evening?

"Ye gonna throw that thing?" someone called out from a corner of the room.

Luke blinked again, and the dart left his hand. His head rather hurt, too, he reflected, as he braced himself for the clapping that had been accompanying every toss for the last hour. But silence filled the room.

"He missed," someone near him whispered. Luke turned to look at the speaker, then moved slowly to peer at the target. The tackdart had caught only the edge of the outermost circle. He HAD missed!

A lone cheer suddenly issued from a ruddy-faced farmer perched near the bar. "I win! A hunnard and fourteen bull's-eyes! I win the pot!"

Luke slowly sat as Efam counted out the farmer's winnings. He had actually missed! How pompous had he been, thinking he could never fail to hit the center? True, he hadn't been actively using the Force. That would be cheating. But he had always had excellent aim, even before he'd ever heard of the Force. In fact, his past contests with both fellow Tatooine cohorts and Rebel pilots usually evolved into Luke competing against himself, as no one cared to risk their credits on the slim chance of beating him.

The Jedi looked up as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm headin' back to the inn," Gerd said quietly. "If yer ready, I thought we could walk together."

The prospect of returning to the inn suddenly seemed very inviting. Luke and Gerd exited the pub, the frigid night air assaulting the younger man's senses and noticeably reviving him. As he walked beside the elderly gentleman, Luke's thoughts turned once more to Mara, as they had throughout the evening. Would she be in their room when he got there? Would she accept his apology? What had she been doing, while he'd been competing in the segregated contests? Luke had reached out for her through the Force not long after she had stalked off. He had felt she had been enjoying herself, whatever she was doing, until she took note of his eavesdropping. Mara had slammed up her barriers tightly at that. He probably could have breached the wall, if he'd really wanted to, but had decided it wasn't in his best interest to do so.

Gerd broke into Luke's musings. "Here we be, lad."

The Jedi's step slowed as they entered the warmth of the boarding house. Gerd bid his farewell as he headed to his own room, and for the first time since his arrival, Luke used the railing to pull himself up the stairway.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mara had already changed into her nightgown and was stoking the flames in the old fireplace when she felt Luke's presence appear downstairs. A presence that, oddly enough, felt rather cloudy. An inordinate amount of time later, the door to their quarters creaked open, and she looked up to watch Luke shuffle in quietly. Arms hanging at his side, he stood just to the right of the door, as if he wanted to dissolve into the wall he was leaning against.

Mara finally broke the silence, all thoughts of renewing their argument suddenly unimportant. "Hello."

"Hi," Luke croaked, and his slight form seemed to shrink into the heavy coat he wore. Mara thought he looked... vulnerable.

"Are you all right?" she asked, stepping closer to perceive his features in the shadows. "You look a little... green."

"I'm... okay," Luke stammered, though he felt just the opposite.

Mara drew within a dozen centimeters of him, and her eyes widened as she sniffed suspiciously. "Are you drunk?" she blurted out in accusation.

"No!" Luke denied. "I shust... just... feel... really sick." Without warning, he bolted for the refresher.

Mara's jaw dropped, then she hurried to follow, stopping short as her eyes fell on her fiancé, kneeling on the floor and retching miserably into one of the metal buckets.

"Luke!" Mara pumped some cool water onto a small cloth. After helping him shrug off his coat, she tenderly wiped at his sweat-beaded forehead.

"What have you done to yourself?" she scolded, though her voice was gentle and soothing.

Luke shook his head, and winced at the movement. "I guess... I drank... too mush... much... ale." The words were barely out when a second round of nausea hit him, and Mara brushed back his hair as he made use of the bucket once more.

"So, Skywalker, you are human after all," she chided softly.

He raised bleary eyes to her. "I'm... sorry," he moaned.

"Shhhh." She filled a glass with water and handed it to him with the order, "Rinse." He didn't need to be told twice.

"Better?" she asked, and he gave a silent nod. Mara went into the outer room, then returned moments later wearing boots and a coat over her gown. Luke gave her a quizzical look until she started to pick up the bucket, then he laid a hand on her arm.

"I'll... I'll take care of that."

"Nonsense," she countered. "You've been taking all the turns with the chamberpot. Besides...," she leaned over and kissed his temple, "I wouldn't trust you not to fall down the steps."

Mara paused by the doorway as Luke rose to his feet. "I'll expect you to be in bed when I get back."

He nodded once more, and Mara was relieved to see his color already returning to normal.

When Mara re-entered their room a short time later, she frowned as she noted Luke had not followed her last instruction. He had donned his sleep pants and a thin homespun shirt, but was now sitting cross-legged on a braided rug next to the bed, apparently meditating. He opened his eyes and looked up as Mara drew close.

"What are you doing?" she asked, concern evident in her voice. "You should be in bed sleeping."

"Sleeping... it off?" He cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "I'm... cleansing... the alcohol from my body," he went on, taking his time to enunciate each word. "Yoda showed me how to do this... for poisoning. I'm hoping... the same principle... will apply."

"Is it working?"

"I... can't tell yet."

Mara hung her coat on a hook behind the door and pulled off her boots. "May I follow what you're doing, to learn the technique, too?"

"Of course." He scooted over to make room for her on the rug. "Though I can't imagine... you being foolish enough... to over-imbibe."

"Oh, I don't know." Mara winked. "Being married to you may drive me to drinking."

"I shertain... certainy..." Luke stammered, his expression one of embarrassment as he stumbled over the word, "... hope not."

Mara chuckled aloud at his slip. "Keep cleansing, Jedi." She matched his position and clasped one of his hands, then effortlessly reached into their Force link to follow Luke's methodic eradicating of the alcohol molecules from his system.

It was more than an hour later when Luke again opened his eyes, feeling more fatigued than refreshed, but relieved that he could sense no lingering effects of the ale. Still clutching Mara's hand, he straightened his stiff legs and leaned back against the side of the bed. Almost simultaneously, Mara also stirred and gracefully stretched her muscles. She turned her head and smiled as Luke began speaking in a much more controlled voice.

"I can't believe I let that happen." He sighed wearily, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "That has got to be the most humiliating spectacle I've made of myself in ages. And right in front of you, yet."

"Must be why they add that 'whether healthy or ill' part in the vows," Mara said with a snicker. "You never know how your partner may drag through the door."

Luke groaned in renewed chagrin.

She reached out and stroked his cheek. "They say every experience is a learning experience." She gave him a gentle kiss as he turned in her direction. "Did you learn anything?"

"Never to drink anymore of Efam's brew," he vowed. "That stuff has got to be ten times more potent than lomin ale."

Mara arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"I learned... I like having you take care of me," he added in a soft whisper. "I love you, Mara, and I need you."

"That's better. And perhaps someday," she added with a sly grin, "I'll get to return the favor... with bouts of morning sickness."

Luke sat up and stared in dumbfounded bewilderment at her, caught off guard by her last words. "Wh... what?"

She shrugged in casual indifference. "You never know."

He narrowed his eyes as he mulled over her uncharacteristic attitude. "Is there something we need to discuss?"

"Not yet!" Mara laughed sharply. "Last I checked, farmboy, you can't get a girl pregnant just by thinking about having sex with her."

"But you're not opposed to having children, eventually?" Luke had been renewing, in recent days, his old dreams of someday having a family of his own. He hadn't even considered that Mara might have other ideas.

"Eventually," she replied, vanquishing his fears. "Just give me time to get used to being a wife first. I can't remember ever being around a normal family. I think the idea of becoming parents is something we both need to ease into gradually."

Luke nodded in agreement, then worked his mouth awkwardly as he tried to formulate his next question. "So don't you think... I mean,... we need to take, er... plan..."

Mara smiled to herself at his nervousness. "You think we should talk about prevention meds."

"Exactly. We don't know if they even have such a thing here."

"You don't have to worry," she assured him. "I'm already using them."

"You are?" A mixture of relief and confusion settled in the pit of his stomach.

She squeezed his hand warmly. "For several years now. As soon as I started going out on missions, the Emperor sent me to his personal physician to make sure I was covered. Guess a pregnant assassin wouldn't have been very efficient." Feeling his growing concern, she went on. "Sometimes my... assignments... would involve luring men to their bedrooms, where they would let their guard down. Among other things," she added, laughing.

"But—"

"Don't worry. Nothing ever happened. I never let it get that far."

Luke let go of his bride-to-be's hand, instead putting his arm around her and hugging her close. He tried not to think about what Mara most likely did to permanently end each unwanted advance. "But, Mara," he continued, a nagging concern still clinging to his thoughts. "When we were together, in that suite in the palace, you told me Palpatine was hoping that you and I would... that we'd conceive a child. How...?"

"I was ordered to discontinue the meds then. They even gave me a fertility drug. I went back to using contraception afterwards, from one of your Emdee droids."

"Surely you didn't think we'd be sending you on assignments where there would be a chance..."

"No," she interrupted him softly. "I didn't think that."

Luke paused, as the implications of what she said sank in. "You thought maybe I would..." he trailed off. Had she been afraid that he would, or hoping that he would?

"I could never be afraid of you, Luke," she murmured, reading his thoughts.

"Guess I've been a disappointment," he mumbled, biting his lower lip.

"No, Luke, never think that." She hugged him fiercely. "I love you. You could never disappoint me."

He returned her embrace, and added a kiss. "Just remember that on our wedding night," he said wryly. He leaned back against the bed once more, Mara's head nestled on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about that argument we had at the Festival," he murmured after a few moments of silence. "I know being here is hard on you."

"Luke, you already apologized, unnecessarily, for our being stranded here." She raised her head and looked him in the eye. "You cannot keep taking the blame every time something goes wrong. Besides," she added, laying her head back on his shoulder, "I'm rather getting used to some of the customs and activities these people engage in."

"Really?" He leisurely stroked her hair, marveling not for the first time at its softness. "So what did you do this evening to keep busy, without me around to pester you?"

"Well, I stayed sober, for one thing." When he refused to reply to her teasing, she continued. "I went ice-gliding, with a friend."

"You found a friend here?" Luke queried suspiciously.

"Yes. Is that so hard to believe?"

"No, no," he backtracked hurriedly. "Go on."

"And then we sampled every sweet treat we could lay our hands on." Mara giggled at the memory. "Aerie really is a nice person, and she's expecting a baby, too."

"Ahh, so that's what brought that up..." Luke stopped when Mara elbowed him. He felt a certain amount of relief that this friend turned out to be a 'she.' He thought about the new friends he had made that evening as well, and then furrowed his brow in contemplation. "This Aerie, her last name wouldn't be Modesa, would it?"

"Yes." Mara raised her head in surprise. "How did you know?"

"I met her husband tonight. He was the fellow running that abhorrent males-only booth with the bottles to knock over."

"Yes, she told me."

"He turned out to be quite likeable, and very excited at the prospect of being a new father."

"I'm sure," she chortled dryly. "And what did you do to occupy yourself, besides tipping mugs of ale?"

Luke groaned to himself. She would never let him live that down. "Nothing interesting."

"Luke..."

He exhaled in resignation. "We tried out all the games at the Festival, then went back to the pub, and..."

"And what?"

"Threw tackdarts."

"Which are...?"

"Like photon darts, without the photons."

"Oh." She loved competing with photon darts, and knew that Luke was well aware of that fact. She could easily sense his regret that she wasn't able to join him at the contest, and graciously took it easy on him. "So did you win?"

Luke started to answer, then paused. Suddenly he sat up a little straighter and puffed out his chest with an exaggerated swagger. "Hey, it's me," he gloated. "You don't really think I could be beaten, do you? Even half-drunk?"

Mara laughed loudly as she pushed him over onto the floor. "I think you're still half-drunk! I suppose we can buy this whole village with the vast fortune you won."

"Of course..." Luke stopped and rolled to his knees, gawking around the room. "That reminds me, I wanted to show you something. Where's my coat?"

"Probably still in the 'fresher." Mara watched in confusion as Luke hopped up and scurried into the refresher, returning with his hand digging into the deep pockets of the old coat.

"Look at this." He thrust a handful of coins into her outstretched palm.

Mara turned one of the coins over, not sure what he was referring to.

"It's a deka," Luke pointed out.

"I gathered that much," she retorted. "So?"

"Look at the symbol on the back," he went on, his excitement obvious in his voice.

Mara flipped the deka to its reverse side, and studied the vaguely familiar emblem. "I've seen this before, I'm sure. I just can't..."

"It's the mark of the Old Republic!" Luke knelt back beside her, fidgeting with exuberance at his discovery.

Mara glanced at his flushed face, then squinted once more in the dim light at the enigma in her hand. "I'm sure you have some theory dreamed up for this, so you might as well spit it out," she groused, as she thought up and rejected several explanations in her own mind.

"Don't you see?" He pulled out a coin for himself. "This proves that this planet has ties to the rest of the galaxy."

"But these people have never heard of Coruscant, or any other planet. They don't even know there is such a thing as space travel," Mara objected.

"THESE people don't, but their ancestors had to." Luke's eyes sparkled as he outlined his hypothesis. "I think centuries ago, maybe even a millennia, settlers started a colony on this planet, and have been cut off from the rest of the galaxy ever since."

"But even so, they had to arrive in a ship. They had to come from another planet somewhere."

"That had me puzzled, too, but then I started learning the family names of some of the villagers, and several of them sounded familiar. I think I even recognized the name Zembuhl when I first heard it."

"Go on." The name of the village had tugged at her mind also, but she hadn't thought it significant enough to mention.

"I remember reading in school about a group of dissidents, around five hundred years ago, who rejected everything associated with modern civilization. They were quite radical; didn't believe in any kind of technology. They formed a kind of cult, and included several prominent citizens -- Lenzel, Zuleta, Abera, Modesa..." He rocked back on his heels. "Hiley Lenzel, Efam Zuleta, Jaco Modesa..."

"Merta's last name is Abera, and she did tell me her family has been here twenty generations, which could be around five hundred years," Mara put in, her voice laced with wonder. "And Zembuhl..."

"Was the leader of the cult," Luke finished. "I remember the group disappeared without a trace. Some thought they'd all committed suicide. I think, somehow, they found this planet, and put down roots."

"But the villagers should still be aware of..."

"Not if the original members made a pact never to pass down any knowledge of the galaxy to their children," Luke reasoned.

"But they're using a Republican symbol on their coins. That wouldn't make sense."

Luke shrugged. "Maybe someone years ago accidentally saw it on something, and no one even knew what it stood for anymore."

Mara nodded slowly in agreement. "After the founders died off, the succeeding generations would have no way to even suspect there were beings on other planets." She pursed her lips in thought. "But surely they would eventually evolve, on their own, to..."

"We don't know how primitively the first group lived. It's possible that they have been progressing at a natural rate."

"And the ship they first arrived in?"

"Most likely destroyed, to prevent anyone from changing their mind."

"What planet was this Zembuhl from?" Mara asked, trying to link all the clues together. "Somewhere with humans that spoke Basic, I take it?"

Luke searched him memory. "Mosigori, I think. Most of the group was from there..." he trailed off, as another thought struck him. "In fact, we had a pilot in Green Wing from Mosigori -- Wal Gypend -- and he had a similar accent." He looked up, grinning. "As a veteran of Green Wing, perhaps you remember him, Lieutenant Maiwara?"

"Very funny, flyboy." Mara stuck out her tongue at Luke for bringing up the fake identity she'd used the first day she met him, deep in an Imperial prison cell. "Speaking of accents, Aerie told me I talk funny."

"No funnier than me." Luke laughed. "Yeah, I've gotten some comments about my speech, too."

Mara leaned back, contemplating the possibilities. "So you think we're the first people to land here in five centuries?"

"This planet wasn't on any star charts, didn't even show up on the scopes until we were practically on top of it. We only stumbled on it because I could sense it through the Force. I doubt many ships ever venture into this nebula."

"If the founders wanted a good hiding place, they certainly found it." She looked up at Luke's self-satisfied smirk, his confidence shining through that they had solved the mystery of their hosts. "The only question I have is, how did you recall all these details? I had galactic history lessons too, from the best tutors, but I didn't remember all those names and other particulars."

He gave her an easy smile. "You probably weren't starved for information growing up like I was. I soaked up every scrap of knowledge I could lay my hands on. And the idea that a whole group of men and women would reject the very things I was dying to experience -- well, I guess that just stuck with me."

"So now what do we do, after we leave here? Who should we tell? And how do you propose we let these villagers know about the rest of the galaxy?"

Luke frowned in consternation. "I don't think we should tell anyone, here or anywhere else."

"But, Luke..."

"These people are happy here. They're satisfied with their lives." He shook his head. "They've never known war or suppression. Their biggest problem is whether someone will get bonded so they can have a good harvest. Mara, if we introduce them to the rest of civilization, they could lose all that."

"I see your point, though I'm not sure I agree." She bit her lip, contemplating his reasoning. "They would have relatives who may be interested in learning what happened to their ancestors."

"Relatives twenty generations removed," he reminded her.

Mara finally exhaled in acquiescence. "Okay, I'll yield to your wisdom, just this once." She wagged her finger at him before leaning back into his embrace.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," Mara suddenly spoke up a few minutes later, though she didn't loosen her hold around his waist.

"Hmmm?"

"Are Alliance pilots allowed to get married? It's generally frowned upon, for Imperial pilots. Supposedly it decreases their efficiency in combat. I've even heard tales of men being executed for getting married without permission." She raised her head, watching his face as he answered.

"I don't think they'll take me out and shoot me," he joked, but there was no mirth in his eyes. It still pained him to remember how Palpatine had subjugated Mara to service in that brutal regime. He drew up his knees and held her a little tighter as he continued. "It's not encouraged for pilots to have families, but it's not forbidden either. During the war many troopers had spouses and children left behind at home. Sometimes, I think they were the ones who fought the hardest, because they had the most to lose."

"So there won't be any flak when we return?"

Luke gave a light chuckle. "Only if I can't manage to salvage this Lorrd mission." He sighed quietly. "It's not actually going to matter, anyway."

"Why not?" she asked curiously.

"Because I'm going to resign from the military when we return. I had already decided that before we left."

Mara abruptly sat up, startled by his unexpected announcement. "You are? Don't you think this is something we should discuss together?"

"Did you want me to stay in the squadron?"

"No, not really. I've been surprised you've stayed this long. I just thought..."

"I wasn't keeping it a secret, though I haven't told anyone else." Luke trailed one hand suggestively over her slim shoulder and down her arm. "I've just had other things on my mind lately."

She swatted his hand away in feigned impatience and got back to the business at hand. "You're straying off course here. What are you going to do if you're not working for the Alliance?"

Luke shifted a little before answering. "I had intended to go off on my own, and do some Jedi research. But... this is our future now, not just mine." He paused hesitantly. "What do you think? What do you want to do?"

Mara leaned over and kissed him lightly. "I want to share your life, Luke, share in the joys of new discoveries and the frustrations of disappointments. You've been putting the Jedi side of you on hold for too long. Besides, spending more time out in the galaxy, away from Coruscant, sounds very appealing." She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it softly. "So what kind of research are we going to do?"

Luke stroked her cheek lightly. "Oh, look for anything about the Jedi of the Old Republic. Hidden records, maybe a treasure chest full of training manuals," he said with a wink.

"Sweetheart, I'm afraid the Emperor was pretty thorough in destroying everything."

"Hmmm." Luke pulled her closer. "I like the sound of that."

Mara cupped his chin before he could return a kiss. "You like the sound of Palpatine destroying Jedi records?"

"No." He broke free to descend on her mouth, his hand running up and down her back. "I like hearing you call me sweetheart."

"Humph." Mara gave a weak protest as he began nuzzling her neck. "I might be able to get into some of the Emperor's private files," she went on, determined to keep the conversation on track. "We'd be able to eliminate locations where the purges were complete."

"That would be helpful," Luke whispered in her ear, nibbling on it at the same time.

"Maybe we'd even be... able... to..." Mara let out a small moan as Luke's hands roamed over her body.

"Able to what?" Luke wanted to prove he was paying attention. Those split concentration exercises were finally coming in handy.

"To find locations on his agenda that... he hadn't... gotten to... yet..." A ragged breath escaped Mara. Why hadn't she paid more attention when he'd nagged her about practicing split concentration? "Didn't you want to talk about Jedi research?" she managed to get out.

"Later." Luke devoured her mouth with his own as one hand tentatively edged up under her nightgown.

*I thought you wanted to wait until we were married,* Mara sent, somewhat reluctantly.

Luke stopped abruptly. "I..." He pulled back, breathing heavily as waves of discomfort flowed through him. "I'm sorry, Mara." He looked deep into her sparkling emerald eyes. "I just... can't help..."

Mara grabbed his hand back, kissing his palm tenderly. "Luke, don't ever apologize for wanting me."

He pulled her tightly against him, smothering her with an unabashed embrace. "I don't deserve you," he whispered, burying his head in her silky hair.

"Be that as it may..." She managed to pull back enough to kiss his forehead. "You've got me, and you're stuck with me. Now," she cracked a smirk, "I think it's time we went to bed."

Luke allowed her to wriggle free, and they helped each other to their feet. "And that's supposed to get my mind off of sex?" he groused, as they slipped under the down-filled comforter. "With you lying next to me, all warm and soft..."

Mara scooted back a bit, breaking contact with his body. "You just have to not think of me like that. For two more nights, anyway." She grinned to herself as he buried his head in a pillow. "Concentrate on some repulsive image of me."

Luke turned his head enough to stare at her with one eye. "You're joking, right? There is no such thing."

"Of course there is. Everybody has some unattractive attribute."

He narrowed his eye suspiciously. "I suppose you've already got some disgusting image of me running through your head."

"Well..." she drawled. "You were kind enough to let me witness you puking into a bucket. That wasn't exactly a turn-on."

"Glad I could oblige," he deadpanned, his voice muffled once more by the pillow. "But I'm not sure even that would work in your case."

Mara turned on her back, staring at the flames reflecting off the ceiling and feeling Luke's struggle to dampen down his yearnings. She wasn't at all sure she could resist, either, if he were any closer.

"I have a terrible temper," she said, finally coming up with an idea. "Picture me having an angry fit."

"You're beautiful when you're angry," he muttered.

"You...," Mara hissed. "All right, remember when we waded through the sewers, and I got that sludge all over my feet. There was nothing appealing about that."

"But it made you angry," Luke countered. "And you're beautiful when..."

"Okay, okay." This was exasperating. "Think about when I stalked you at Jabba's, and how much I wanted to kill you."

"You are dangerous," Luke acknowledged with a feral grin. "Wild. Exciting." He rose up on one elbow and stroked her face. "Provocative. Tantalizing..."

"Skywalker!" She swatted him away, then fell back on the bed in a huff. "Maybe you should just think about yourself, spitting out those last dregs of—"

"Mara, this isn't going to work," he interrupted, having no intention of resorting to picturing his bout of nausea that evening.

"Do you have another solution?" she asked softly. "Other than going ahead and..."

"No," he whispered, rolling to face away from her.

Mara stared at the thin material of his shirt, now plastered to his clammy skin. "Luke?"

"Yes?" his motionless form returned.

"Why... have you never made love to a woman before?"

Luke was silent several moments before replying. "I hadn't met the right woman until I met you. It just never seemed..." He turned over once more to gaze at her lovely features in the flickering shadows. "You complete me. No one else ever came close, not in the way I'd always imagined lovers should be."

"What compelled you to suggest that we wait until our wedding?"

"I suppose," he began slowly, "it was something my uncle said to me once."

"Your Uncle Owen?" Mara blinked in surprise. "I thought all he did was scold you."

"Mostly, but this was one lecture that stuck with me. Maybe because for once he delivered it without raising his voice." Luke thought back in fond recollection. "When I was about fifteen or sixteen, there was another boy in Anchorhead who had gotten his girlfriend pregnant. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru were discussing it over dinner, saying how the boy should have had more respect for the girl. I'm sure I must have made some condescending remark, about how that particular girl had never gone out of her way to earn any respect. Well, Uncle Owen very slowly laid down his fork and stared at me, and I knew I was in for it, again."

Luke rolled on his back, then reached over in the darkness and clasped Mara's hand. "He had me follow him outside, and we sat there in silence, watching the suns set. When he finally spoke, it was in this low, solemn voice I'd never heard him use before. He told me that all women were due the utmost consideration, no matter what. He said he understood how young men got... cravings... but that the act of sharing one's self, one's body, with a young lady was one of the most special things in the universe, and that it was paramount to make sure it was the right young lady. Anything less would only be shallow gratification. I can remember his next words verbatim -- 'Luke,' he said, 'the most honorable compliment you can bestow on a woman is to make love to her AFTER you've made your commitment of lifelong love to her.'"

Luke squeezed Mara's hand lovingly in the stillness of the room. "So when any of the guys tried to 'fix me up,' Uncle Owen's words would come back to me, and I would just know... that this wasn't the right girl for me."

"I'm glad you waited... for me," Mara murmured quietly.

"So am I," he whispered back. "Though I used to wonder if Uncle Owen's real motive was to prevent me from passing along any Force-strong genes through an unsuspecting girl."

"You were lucky, Luke, to have two people who cared for you so much."

"I know," he returned. "I only wish I had appreciated them more, before I lost them." He pushed an errant strand of red-gold hair away from Mara's somber face. "I'm sorry you never had parents or guardians like them when you were growing up."

Mara nodded in appreciation of his sensitivity. "All we can do is to make sure our children receive the best guidance we can offer."

"They will," he assured her. "Now what about you?" His voice lifted in spirit. "Didn't you have handsome men drooling over you? Besides the ones you were assigned to... eliminate. I know I've observed several of the pilots looking you up and down."

"Humph." Mara snorted. "Only until they see you giving them the 'evil eye.' No, no one ever interested me enough to consider sleeping with him, until you came along. Must be that farmboy innocence."

"Must be." Luke yawned sleepily. "Have we talked half the night?"

"Wasn't that the plan?" Mara stifled a yawn herself. "Keep talking till we're too tired to do anything else?"

"I think it nearly worked." Luke pulled her close and gave her a soft kiss. "Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, Luke. I love you." Mara listened as Luke's quiet breathing settled into the peaceful rhythm of slumber. She could never thank the stars enough for giving her this exceptional man. He filled her empty soul like rare Alderaanian wine would fill an empty goblet. Would she ever feel worthy of his love?

======================================================================================

Han Solo stood outside the door to Luke and Leia's apartment, waiting with as much patience as he could muster for the door to slide open. His anticipation of this evening's romantic rendezvous with Leia had been greatly curtailed, however, by a conversation that Chewbacca had entangled him in that afternoon, squashing Han's plans to take his relationship with the beautiful princess to an all-important next level. Han frowned as he lingered in the hallway, and recalled the Wookiee's unintentional meddling...

`````````````````````

"Hey, Chewie, what's up?" Han greeted his co-pilot cheerfully upon entering the Falcon's hanger bay.

Chewbacca backed his way carefully out of the tight confines of a service duct where he'd been laboring over the myriad of rerouted circuits that the ship was famous for.

[Where have you been? I've been cramped in this duct for hours, trying to undo the last mess you made.]

Though Han knew the Wookiee's growl was worse than his bite, he recognized that tone in his friend's voice, and hurriedly rolled up his sleeves to pitch in.

"I, ol' buddy, have been shopping," the Corellian boasted as he pulled out and reattached the tangled web of colored wires. "And wait till you see what I bought!"

[A new ship?] Chewie teased.

"New ship? You know there's not a finer piece of machinery to be had than what we have here." Han jerked back as a circuit sparked suddenly, smoke rising from its blackened spot. "No," he went on, determined to not let contrary circuitry dampen his spirits today. "I've been jewelry shopping, my friend."

[You've decided to finally get a ring in your ear, like other pirates?]

Ignoring Chewbacca's taunts, Han wiped his hands on an oily rag and reached into his pocket. Almost reverently, he opened a velvateen box and held it out for the Wookiee to inspect. "A betrothal ring, Chewie," Han pronounced. "I'm going to do it. Tonight. I'm going to ask Leia to marry me."

Chewie gave him an incredulous stare, momentarily at a loss for words.

"Speechless, huh?" Han prattled on. "I can't wait to see the look on her face."

[Are you sure... she'll accept?] was the first comment out of the Wookiee's mouth.

Han's eyes narrowed defensively. "Of course she'll accept. She loves me. I love her. We were made for each other."

Chewie glanced up and down at Han's dirty, rumpled attire. [She's a princess, my friend.]

Han brushed at a smudge on his shirt, suddenly feeling self-conscious. From out of nowhere, the teasing that he had subjected Luke to on the first day they'd met Leia echoed in his mind. 'What do ya think, a princess and a guy like me...?' 'No!' But that was over four years ago. Luke's jealousy had luckily disappeared long ago, even before his relationship to Leia was discovered. Han was now a respected general. Who still dressed like a smuggler. Leia kept telling everyone she was no longer a princess. But she still had the classy, polished bearing and diplomatic deportment of royalty.

Chewie studied the worried expression on his companion's face. He had committed himself to protecting the lanky Corellian. Surely that included doing his best to protect him from heartache. [And your love for each other will overcome any differences. I will dance at your wedding, my friend.]

Han's taut mouth transformed into his familiar, lop-sided grin. "I'm counting on it, pal. And don't you worry, you and I will still be partners. When Leia marries me, she gets the whole package," he went on, sweeping one arm out to include both the Wookiee and his beloved ship.

[I will continue to watch over her as I have you all these years,] the Wookiee vowed. [And also any cubs she will bear you.]

"Cubs? Children?" Han paled slightly. "Don't rush things, furball." He picked up a hydrospanner and turned back to continue his repairs.

[Luke was happy, I'm sure, at your news,] Chewie muttered behind Han.

"I'm sure he will be," Han's voice echoed from the service duct, "when I tell him."

[Did you not ask his approval before he left?]

"What? What does this have to do with him?" Han jerked back, bumping his head in the process.

[In many cultures, the prospective groom must first ask permission of the female's eldest male relative.]

Han gave his friend a hard glare. "Corellia ain't one of them cultures, pal."

[But was Alderaan? You know how Leia feels about following her homeworld's customs.]

"How should I know what Alderaan did?" He frowned at Chewbacca's unconvinced look. "If you think I'm consulting Threepio first, you're crazy."

[You could ask Lady Winter.]

"I want this to be a surprise."

[Winter is very discreet. She would not reveal your inquiry to anyone.]

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just wanted Leia to be the first to find out about this, not everyone else on Coruscant."

[So why did you tell me?]

"Good question, pal. Good question."

`````````````````````````````````

Han blew out a breath, and punched Leia's door announcer again. Much to his dismay, Winter had confirmed that it had been an ancient custom on Alderaan for a suitor to first receive permission from the patriarch of a family before approaching a young woman with an offer of marriage. Though the custom was rarely practiced in the last years of Alderaan's existence, the stately white-haired woman assured Han that someone of Leia's status would definitely be expected to adhere to the time-honored guideline. And, Winter added, Her Highness would be most impressed that Han had thought to investigate her world's rules of formal conduct.

The smuggler-turned-general patted his empty vest pocket disappointedly. No, there would be no marriage proposal until the errant Jedi got his rear end back home, and there'd better not dare be any question of turning Han down. In fact, it was probably fortuitous, in this regard, that Luke was Leia's only relative. Trying to imagine Bail Organa giving his blessing to a match between his daughter and a smuggler was nearly impossible. And if Vader had survived -- that scenario was just plain incomprehensible.

Suddenly the door in front of him swished open, causing Han to look down into the face of Leia Organa, a face that was decidedly haggard-looking.

"Hi, sweetheart," he greeted her, bending low to kiss her warmly on the lips.

"Hi, Han," Leia returned, stifling a low yawn.

"Did I wake you?" Han asked. It wasn't like Leia to be taking a nap this early in the evening, especially when she was expecting him for dinner.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, leading him into the common room. "I didn't sleep well last night, and I guess I fell asleep in my conform lounger."

"Something wrong?" Han wrapped one arm around her, drawing her close as they settled onto the nerf-hide couch.

Leia let a tired sigh escape her lips. "Not really. At least, I hope not."

"Let me guess," Han drawled. "You're worried about Luke. Haven't heard from him yet, huh?"

Leia's embarrassed grimace confirmed Han's astute observation.

"No." She shook her head, her silky hair undulating in waves past her shoulders. "I know he's a grown man, and you think he can take care of himself, but..."

"But you don't think he can, and you can't help feeling the kid's gotten himself in a jam again." Han rolled his eyes with practiced ease.

"He's not a kid," Leia protested in defense of her brother. "He's the same age as me."

"I've never thought of you as a kid." Han grinned, trying to lighten her mood. "I'll ALWAYS think of Luke as one."

"All the more reason to imagine him in some kind of trouble," she pointed out, twisting Han's logic back against him.

"Are we going out to dinner?" Han asked, doing his best to change the subject. He should have known Leia would still be anxious about Luke. Even if Han had proposed, she would probably want to wait for her brother's safe return before giving an answer.

"Oh," Leia replied with a moan. "I forgot all about dinner. I suppose I could have the kitchen droid whip up something. I really don't feel like going out." She let another yawn escape. "Then maybe after dinner..." Leia smiled at Han, trying to look suggestive, but the bags under her weary eyes made her tension and fatigue evident.

Han shook his head. "After dinner you're going straight to bed. Alone."

"Oh, Han, I'm sorry," Leia apologized. "We don't get that many nights together, and I'd love for you to stay..."

"But you're dead-tired, and you need your rest," Han said gallantly, kissing her softly on the forehead. He and Leia had been intimate on more and more occasions lately, and he treasured every moment they shared. But staying the night when she was already exhausted, and knowing that all her thoughts were revolving about Luke, was not something he found inviting.

Leia reached up and stroked his rugged cheek. "Thank you, Han," she whispered. "Thank you for understanding. I promise, as soon as I know Luke is safe..."

"Shhhh," he returned. "You just get some sleep. I'll take a raincheck on dinner." He rose and pulled her up with him, then guided her toward her bedchamber. "Let me tuck you in, Your Highnessness, and I'll see you tomorrow."

After changing into a modest nightgown, she slipped into the welcoming bed and allowed him to pull the covers around her. "I love you, Han," Leia said sleepily.

"I love you, too, sweetheart," Han responded, giving her one last kiss. Leia was already asleep as he straightened, brushing her glossy hair back from her beautiful face.

Han exhaled deeply as he let himself out. Blast that Luke! How could one kid spoil an evening in so many ways, without even being there? Han jokingly swore a Corellian curse that Luke Skywalker, wherever he was, would have no more romantic success than Han himself was encountering.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Merta paced anxiously from her kitchen to the bottom of the stairs and back again.

The dining table had been cleared, the dishes had been washed, the rest of the guests had dispersed for the day's activities.

The matronly innkeeper paused briefly at the bottom of the stairway, one age-spotted hand resting on the rounded baluster. She didn't make it a practice to intrude on guests' privacy. But how long must she wait?

Merta glanced for the tenth time at the spring-wound timepiece on the mantle in the dining chamber, then stalked back to the stairs and started up. Confound that girl! Privacy or no privacy, she and Miss Mara needed to be on their way NOW!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Luke's eyes blinked open and his head jerked off the soft faded pillow. Knocking... Someone... was knocking...

"What in blazes is that racket?!"

Luke twitched at the grumpy muffled voice next to him, then sleepily eased out of bed. "Hold on, I'll check," he answered, yawning. He squinted in the fierce sunlight streaming through the window. How late had they slept?

Merta raised her hand for another rap when the door swung open without warning.

"Uhh,... Merta,... good morning." Luke did his best not to frown. Just because they missed breakfast, their host was coming to get them?

"It be closer to noon than mornin', lad." Merta peered over Luke's shoulder at the still occupied bed, then brought her gaze back to the young man clad in rumpled sleepclothes. "Were ye two gonna stay in bed all day?"

"Uhh... uhh..." Now Luke was really confused. "Was there someplace we were supposed to be?" he finally asked, after frantically racking his brain.

"Not ye." Merta took a step into the room without waiting for an invitation, prompting Luke to reflexively retreat backwards. She rested her hands on her hips and tapped one foot impatiently. "Yer lass."

Mara had clambered out of bed by now, straightening out her twisted nightgown with one hand as she hastily grabbed up a skirt and blouse with the other. "Oh, stars, Merta, I forgot," the redhead called over her shoulder in apology. "We stayed up half the night, and were just so tired... I'll be ready in a flash."

Merta and Luke both watched as Mara rushed into the bathing chamber, the door slamming behind her. The young Jedi turned to the older woman, the bewildered expression having never left his face. "What did she forget?"

"Dress fittin'."

"Oh." He glanced a moment at the closed side door, then looked back apologetically. "We really were up late," he practically whispered. "Talking," he added in afterthought. "We stayed up talking."

A wry grin appeared on Merta's countenance, replacing the stern demeanor she had been displaying. "Whatever ye say, lad. 'Tis none of me business." She turned back toward the entryway. "Tell Mara I'll be waitin' fer her in the kitchen." She gave Luke another once-over. "And if ye be of a mind to get dressed, too, I've got a list o' chores I'd 'preciate yer help with."

The request for assistance jolted the sluggish Jedi into action. He was already pulling a clean set of borrowed clothes from the old-fashioned dresser when he heard the bedroom door creak shut.

How could she stay annoyed at those two young people, Merta thought with a smile as she shuffled down the steep steps. They could raise the spirits of the most hardhearted ogre. A softy like herself didn't stand a chance.

Luke and Mara clattered side-by-side down the well-worn stairs only moments after their landlady, their hips jostling each other with an amiable familiarity. The pair's laughter brought Merta to the doorway of the kitchen just as they pulled up short inside the dining chamber. She smiled as she watched the young woman brush Luke's unruly hair out of his eyes.

"Did you even comb this mop when you got up?" Mara scolded, her own red-gold curls swinging in a hastily fashioned ponytail.

Luke grinned at her fussing. "Haven't we slept together enough times for you to know that my hair is not a priority for me in the morning?"

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Sweetheart, it's never a priority for you."

Luke's arm snaked around Mara's waist as he returned a chaste kiss. "I figure one of us in the family with beautiful hair is enough."

Merta cleared her throat, endeavoring to make her presence known to the young couple. "Ah, here ye be." She glanced at Luke, pretending not to notice as he swiftly ran his fingers through his hair. "Ye sure ye don't mind doin' a few repairs while we're gone?"

"No, not at all," Luke assured her, though his attention shifted to the delectable aroma wafting through the doorway, reminding him they'd missed breakfast. "I want to help."

"Farmboy's not happy if he's not lending a hand some way or another," Mara put in.

"Well, in that case..." Merta laughed and ushered them into the kitchen. "I imagine ye'll work better on a full stomach." She passed a pan of freshly baked muffins to her ravenous-looking boarders. As they each gratefully took one, Merta pointed to the primitive pump, water trickling down its side.

"It's been leakin' o' late, and the pump in room six has also been actin' up, and there be a couple o' broken hinges on the shutters out front..." She continued to rattle off her dictation of tasks as Luke listened attentively. "Do ye think ye'd be able to fix all that, lad?"

"Oh, don't worry," Mara exclaimed before Luke could reply, patting his arm patronizingly. "Luke can fix ANYTHING!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was late afternoon when Luke and Mara finally saw each other again. Luke had managed to complete all of Merta's repair jobs, despite the primitive tools she'd given him, and he was more than ready to spend some quality time with his fiancée.

"So," Luke called over his shoulder to the woman leaning against the refresher's door jamb, "what would you like to do your last evening as a free woman?" Not receiving an immediate response, he paused from his attempt to wash the grime from under his fingernails, and turned to face her. "Mara?"

She gave him a cool stare. "I will always be a free woman, Jedi," she bit out, the strain of keeping her voice calm more than evident. "Being married to you won't mean you own me. Never again..." Her voice faltered as she dropped to a whisper. "Never again will I allow anyone to control me."

Startled by her unexpected reaction to his obviously poor choice of words, Luke quickly wiped his hands on a towel and crossed the space between them in two long strides. "That's not what I meant." His rueful expression begged for forgiveness. "I would never try to control you."

Mara resisted looking into his azure eyes, knowing she would see only hurt and distress in their unfathomable depths. She felt ashamed of the accusation she had knowingly insinuated, but the words had tumbled out nonetheless. "I know, Luke, I know." She tentatively gripped his outstretched hands, but still wouldn't meet his gaze. "It's just... I was a slave to Palpatine for so long, and I was finally beginning to know what it felt like to be my own person... and now..."

"You will always be your own person, Mara," Luke interjected quietly. She didn't balk as he pulled her into a gentle embrace. "If you... ever... feel like I'm stifling your life, and you think we should... be apart... for a while, I'd... I'd understand."

No, you wouldn't, Mara thought as she laid her head on his shoulder. I wouldn't want you to understand.

Luke bent down and kissed her gently, then backed her against the wall, their joined hands pressed to the smooth painted surface on either side of her shoulders. *I love you,* he sent, as he lowered his forehead to meet hers. By unspoken mutual consent, they both opened themselves fully to the Force, allowing its inexhaustible strength and delicate caress to weave a tapestry of serenity and euphoria through their bodies.

It flickered across both their minds simultaneously that, though they had professed their love and become engaged in recent days, they had not exercised this wondrous aspect of their Force bond since the morning of their near-crash landing on this planet. Realization, and relief, spread through them that their love was not dependant on, or even a result of, their connection in the Force. The mystical power refreshed and comforted them, guided and aided them, but would never control them.

Mara snapped her eyes open, holding onto Luke's steady gaze. Just as Luke would never control her; nor she, him.

*I love you,* Mara returned Luke's affirmation. He nodded silently with a smiling acknowledgment, and shifted closer still to the woman he cherished. Clammy palms separated, and eager hands moved of their own accord across the two compressed bodies.

"I'm sorry, Luke," Mara finally found the breath to murmur between their fervent kisses.

"Shhhh." He brushed her lips with his fingertips. "I know." He gave her a slightly embarrassed grin. "Don't think I haven't had misgivings myself."

He laughed lightly as she pulled back with an incredulous "You?"

"That's what happens when you leave me here alone all day, working with my hands. Gives me too much time to think."

"Shifted into Skywalker daydreaming mode?" His twinkling smile assured her of his unwavering resolve to marry her, but didn't dissolve her curiosity. "And just what type of doubts did that wandering mind of yours conjure up?"

Luke slipped his hands down to her waist, and a melancholy shadow darkened his normally bright features. "No uncertainties about you, believe me. But... even before I asked you to marry me... I would wonder..." He let go of her and stepped back.

"Go on," Mara prompted.

He bit his lower lip, then plunged ahead. "I've wondered if marriage, now, is the right path for me."

"You wondered if you should have a wife distracting you from your life's work."

"Not distracting me," Luke contradicted, remembering when he'd told her in Coruscant's underground that he couldn't let himself be distracted. "I beg you to forget I ever used that word." He gave her a loving squeeze. "I guess it was our talking last night about pilots having families that started me thinking about this again. Neither Yoda nor Ben ever mentioned anything about Jedi being married. I assume at least some of them were; of course, there were lots of Jedi during the days of the Old Republic. Now..."

"Now there's only you, charged with rebuilding the order all by yourself -- a task which requires your complete devotion. You can't afford to be preoccupied with a wife, especially one who flies off the handle at the drop of a hat, or be sidetracked by children who'll demand your attention."

"Mara." He brought her chin up with a feather touch of his fingers and gave her a warm smile. "I thrive on being sidetracked and preoccupied." He ignored her teasing snicker. "I've recognized the fact that now I'll have you to encourage me and propel me and advise me. And if I make any major blunders, I can just say..."

"It's all my wife's fault!" Mara finished for him, and they burst into a fit of giggling. The pair stumbled across the bedroom, both nearly bent over double with laughter, and perched themselves on the edge of the bed.

"That demented Jedi sense of humor must be rubbing off on me," Mara wailed playfully, wiping at the tears trickling down her cheeks. She flopped on her back heavily, the mattress bouncing in response.

"I think it's you influencing me," Luke countered. "I've laughed more in the last two months with you than I have in the last four years," he wheezed, twisting around and launching himself to lie next to her.

"I never laughed until I met you," Mara rejoined, sobering slightly as she considered her words. "Never." She languidly rolled her head to the side and gazed at Luke, who was lying on his side, regarding her with an ardent fascination.

"I hope we find some occasion to laugh together every day for the rest of our lives," he murmured, reaching out to trail two fingers across her small waist, then up and down her ribcage. He smiled faintly as she squirmed beneath his touch.

"And if we don't, you'll tickle me until it happens?!"

"If necessary," he confirmed, jerking back suddenly as Mara endeavored to grab his wandering hand.

"This new golden rule of the Skywalkers will work both ways, you know," she reminded him, zeroing in on his ticklish spots that only she was privy to. With a lightening fast whirl, Mara rolled on top of Luke, pinning him to the bed.

He didn't seem to mind in the least.

"Your skirt is all tangled," he commented huskily, their titillating frolicking already forgotten. He tugged on the heavy fabric, making no attempt to straighten it out.

Mara leaned up on her elbows, her whole body aware of the synchronous pounding of their hearts.

"Your shirt is too tight around your neck," she breathed in response, her slim fingers deftly unfastening several buttons. Luke watched her a moment, then closed his eyes and hugged her tightly as she pulled his collar aside and softly caressed his neck with her lips and tongue.

"Mara, please," he moaned, his hands roaming desirously across her shifting body and through her sensuous hair.

Mara raised up just enough to undo another button, her lips continuing to savor the saltiness of his smooth skin.

Luke's mind kept telling him this wasn't the right time. Not yet. Not yet. But "We shouldn't..." was as much as his voice was able to choke out, even as his straying fingers were maneuvering to wedge themselves between the two writhing bodies and open a few buttons of their own.

Mara abruptly stopped her ministrations the moment she felt Luke's touch inside her garment. Shuddering deeply, she buried her face in Luke's shoulder, a groan of pleasure mixed with regret escaping her. *I'm corrupting you,* she sent guiltily, gripping his upper arms in a vise-like hold.

Luke pulled back his own transgressing hands and clutched the back of her wrinkled blouse. "You're not the only culpable party here," he whispered, recognizing his own lustful cravings. Squeezing his eyes shut, he remained motionless under the weight of his would-be lover's tantalizing body. He didn't trust himself not to react if either of them shifted even slightly.

How long they remained inert neither of them could have guessed. Nor could they have pinpointed just when their ragged breathing finally slowed to a palsied whimper. The thoughts that filled both their minds alternated between disappointment and anticipation.

It was Luke who finally breached the oppressive silence, and even then Mara had to strain to hear his muffled words.

"A Jedi should have better control," he murmured, tightening his embrace.

For a brief moment, Mara wondered if he was talking about himself, or her.

"We're also a man and a woman, on the eve of our wedding. It's only human nature..." Raising up slightly, she had to fight the urge to cover him with fervent kisses. "Luke, we could go ahead... I mean, I wouldn't think any less of you if we..."

"We promised ourselves," he croaked, summoning the courage to gaze into her beautiful, mesmerizing eyes. "Not a very auspicious beginning for a marriage, if we start breaking vows already."

Mara cupped his pleading face with her trembling hands. He was right; she hated it when he was right. "I'm so sorry," she breathed, struggling to keep at bay the tears she dreaded would fall.

"Hey, there," Luke said softly, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek. "Never apologize for wanting me," he said with a wink, throwing back her own admonition from two nights ago. His attempt to lighten the mood was successful, as she laughed quietly and laid her head back upon his welcoming shoulder. The tension gradually evaporated as they hugged each other warmly.

"Mara?"

She lifted her head just enough for her penitent emerald eyes to gaze into his hopeful sapphire ones. "Yes?"

"Promise me you'll corrupt me ... tomorrow."

This brought a relieved smile to her weary face. "With pleasure, my love. With pleasure."

That simple acquiescence was all it took for Luke to hungrily devour her mouth. His hands tightened their grip on her clothing and he pivoted their once-more inflamed bodies onto their sides. Panting as hard as he was, Mara pushed him away ever so slightly.

"Luke..." she chided reluctantly.

He finally relinquished his hold, and rolled dejectedly onto his back. "Why can't these people have the courtesy to schedule bondings at the beginning of their festival?"

Mara laughed at his grumbling. "Ahh, that famous Jedi patience."

"You better keep looking if you expect to marry a patient Jedi," came the forlorn response, as Luke ruefully rubbed his eyes. "Especially when it comes to you."

Sighing, Mara sat up and scooted to the edge of the high bed, her crossed ankles dangling just above the floor. "We are so pathetic," she lamented. "How are we ever going to make it through tonight?"

Luke pushed himself to stand, facing out into the center of the room, his backside pressed against the mattress. "Tonight, we are going to lie side by side in this bed," he declared, turning to point a finger at the tempting piece of furniture, "and wallow in our self-induced misery." He reached for his heavy jacket. "And we're going to keep telling ourselves we'll be stronger for it."

"And thank ourselves while we're at it?" Mara returned with a snort. "Is this some perverse Jedi training drill on self-control?"

"If it is, my prospects for having a lot of eager students don't look too bright." He flashed her an amused grin. "C'mon, let's go take a walk. I think we can use some cold, fresh air."

"I think you're right," Mara agreed, already pulling on her shawl.

When the pair exited the front door of the boarding house, their parallel thinking diverged into two different directions. Mara turned right, yanking Luke's clasped hand as he headed left.

"Where are you going?" she groused, her grin betraying her amusement of Luke's bewilderment.

"I thought we were going for a walk," he contended. "That way." He gestured toward the outskirts of the village.

"But the Festival," she pointed her index finger in the opposite direction, "is that way."

"You... YOU...," Luke stuttered in mock confusion, "WANT... to go to the Festival?" He began to snicker as Mara's eyes narrowed to gleaming slits.

"And what's so preposterous about that?" She parked balled fists on her swaying hips, even as she leaned forward to within centimeters of Luke's face. "Hmmm?"

"Nothing. Not a thing." He kissed her nose lightly. "A perfectly logical proposal."

"Humph." Mara tugged her more-than-willing fiancé in her chosen direction. "Unlike someone I know who spent last evening setting a new personal record for alcohol consumption, I had an enjoyable time at this little celebration. Force knows we'll never be able to experience anything like this on Coruscant."

Luke inexplicably began to chuckle to himself as they strolled along, nodding and smiling to the passing villagers.

"Now what's so funny?" Mara asked, though she had an idea what he was thinking about.

"Just reflecting on how much you've changed since I met you," he responded, his familiar grin warming her heart. "The Mara Jade I pretended to be enamored with in the palace would never have been anxious to go to a country festival."

"'Pretended' to be enamored with?" Mara teased. "You don't expect me to believe that line, do you?"

Luke only shrugged and grinned again, not rising to her baiting.

Mara sighed, letting him be as they walked, swinging their joined hands. "I guess it's pointless to deny you're right," she admitted. "I have changed. I don't even like to think about the way I was, the things I've done. It's easier to pretend that was some other woman, not me." She glanced aside at his gentle face. "And I promise to do my best to keep changing, and evolving, into someone worthy of a Jedi Knight."

"No. Don't." He startled her with his protest, and they both paused in the middle of the cobblestone street, oblivious to the stares of the passersby. "I don't want you to change any more." His soft voice was almost a plea. "You're perfect for me now, just the way you are."

Luke suddenly laughed to himself again, as if thinking of some private joke. Mara raised an eyebrow expectantly, but didn't badger him for an explanation this time, though he supplied one anyway.

"Leia confided to me once that Han is convinced she loves him because he's a scoundrel. He supposedly told her there weren't enough scoundrels in her life."

"And being her twin, you had to go out and find a scoundrel for yourself."

"I've never thought of you that way," he said, smiling. "But you have to admit, we do encounter occasional differences of opinion." He winked conspiratorially. "I rather enjoy them."

Mara knew that he meant it, despite Yoda's admonition of not craving excitement.

"I've had it on good authority," he went on, "that a sharp-tongued wife keeps a spark in a marriage."

Mara laughed loudly, continuing their cheerful banter as they started walking again. "Is that so? A sample of Zembuhl philosophy?" At his light-hearted shrug, she went on. "I guess we'll just have to start those sparks flying tomorrow night, farmboy."

"I can hardly wait," he murmured in a husky voice, slipping one arm around her waist and hugging her close as they reached the gaily-lit confines of the Winter Festival.

=================================================================================

The engaged couple's first destination at the Festival was the frozen pond, where Mara introduced Luke to the fine art of ice gliding. Luke took a liking to the unique activity immediately, grumbling in protest when Mara called a halt to the exercise, until he realized she was directing him toward the many food booths erected around the grounds. After sampling every confectionery, sweetmeat, and puff-torte that was thrust into their outstretched palms, he and Mara strolled over to the inviting atmosphere of the Lucky Red Bone Pub. It was there that the tranquil, idyllic image of the peaceful planet was marred.

"Look, there's Aerie," Mara noted, sweeping her gaze across the crowded room as she and Luke stood in the doorway. "And that must be her husband."

"Yes, that's Jaco," Luke confirmed, raising his hand in greeting to his new friend. "Let's see if we can find a place to sit near them."

There were, in fact, two vacant seats at the Modesas' small table, and Aerie insisted the newcomers join them.

"Aerie, this is Luke." Mara made the brief introduction. "Luke, this is my friend Aerie whom I told you about."

"Pleased to meet you." Luke shook her hand warmly. "It sounded like you and Mara had a good time last night."

"Aye, we had a grand time," the blonde replied. "Mara could hardly keep from talking 'bout ye." As they all took their seats, Aerie whispered aside to Mara, "He's just as cute as ye said."

Luke, unfortunately, overhead Aerie's statement, and covered his embarrassed grin with one hand. He delighted in Mara's obvious discomfort, unaware that the tables were about to be turned.

"Mara, have ye met me husband Jaco?" Aerie continued, oblivious to the looks being exchanged by the other couple.

"Hello," Mara said simply, taking the proffered hand across the table. Her hopes that the young man would not remember her were soon dashed.

"Aye, yes," Jaco replied, returning her greeting. "Ye seem to be in a much improved mood than the last time I saw ye," he observed, to Mara's chagrin. After giving a sly look in Luke's direction, he added, "Luke musta taken our advice last night."

Luke's eyes grew wide and he shook his head worriedly, as Mara asked the inevitable "And what advice was that?" She took note of her fiancé slumping down in his chair. "Skywalker?"

"Nevermind," Luke mumbled, though he knew it was a hopeless request.

Mara then turned her determined attention back to Jaco, who suddenly wished he'd never brought up the subject. "What kind of recommendations were you giving out? Does it concern me? Luke is rather impressionable, you know. He believes anything. And what makes you think he took this advice?"

"Uhh... uhh...," Jaco stuttered. "Perhaps I was mistaken." He leaned back in his seat in concert with Mara's leaning forward, her blazing eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Obviously Luke didn't take our advice at'all."

The Jedi slumped down even further, covered his face, and groaned.

Aerie turned to her husband. "Jaco Modesa, I want to know what ye're goin' on about. Is this so-called advice somethin' I should hear?"

"No!" Jaco and Luke both exclaimed simultaneously.

"Don't worry, Aerie. I'll wrangle it out of Luke tonight," Mara declared, shooting a confident glance Luke's way.

*Just drop it, Mara,* Luke pleaded silently.

*You know me better than that,... darling,* Mara replied in his mind, drawing out the last word teasingly.

"Be sure to let me know," Aerie said, laughing. "How did yer dress fittin' go this mornin', Mara?"

"That's right," Luke said, sitting up a little straighter and glad someone had the sense to change the subject. "You didn't tell me about that either."

"It went fine, Aerie," Mara replied. "I think the dress is going to look really nice. Filia's sister Lessie seems to be a fine seamstress. And you," she turned to Luke, "don't get to know anything about it."

A puzzled look crossed Luke's face. "Why not?"

"Men aren't allowed," Mara rejoined with a smirk, her satisfaction clearly showing at finding something that males couldn't participate in.

"But..."

"'Tis bad luck fer the groom to know anythin' 'bout the bride's dress," Aerie filled in.

Mara winked at Luke. *These bondings have more superstitions attached than you can shake a gaffi stick at.*

"Oh," Luke answered both the women at once. "So what am I supposed to wear tomorrow?" he asked, turning to Jaco for help. "Surely that's not a secret."

"I think they're figurin' on outfittin' ye in the suit I wore last year, at me and Aerie's bondin'," Jaco supplied.

"So..." Luke pondered thoughtfully. "I have to borrow clothes, but Mara gets something custom-made."

"That about sums it up," Mara gloated. "Poor baby," she added, eliciting a round of laughter from the table.

The two couples continued to enjoy each other's company. It was a rarity for Luke and Mara to relax with others their own age, sharing anecdotes and reminiscences, at least as much as they dared.

"Have ye been enjoyin' the Festival so far, Luke?" Aerie spoke up.

"Yes, very much so."

*Except for getting sick last night. You can't claim to have enjoyed that.*

Luke ignored Mara's silent interjection, and elaborated on his reply to Aerie. "Mara took me ice-gliding this evening, and that was quite an experience. I really liked it."

"Ye've never been before?"

Mara snorted before Luke could answer. "What do you expect from someone who grew up in a des—" She caught herself just in time. "...a desolate place like he did?"

Aerie looked at Mara curiously. "I didn't think you'd ever been glidin' before, either, Mara."

"Well, no," Mara backpedaled. "I guess you could say both our childhoods were rather bleak." She glanced around the room before Aerie could ask any more questions. "Say, what's going on over there?"

They all turned toward a far corner of the room, where a large crowd had gathered.

"Arm grapplin' match, from the looks of it," Jaco speculated. "They can get quite excitin'. Anybody up fer goin' to see who's winnin'?"

"What...?" Mara began, until Luke kicked her under the table.

*Just pretend you know what he's talking about,* he admonished silently. "Sure, let's go watch," he said to Jaco.

The quartet made their way across the room, squeezing in among the spectators for an observation spot of their own. They watched as two men sat down opposite each other at a small table, each resting one elbow on the table's surface and clasping hands tightly. At a signal from Efam, who was apparently the moderator, the men began pushing against each other's hand, muscles bulging with strain. Mara gave Luke a comprehending glance, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. They recognized the competition as being similar to ones that pilots and other bar patrons occasionally engaged in.

The contestants struggled for several minutes, one pressing the other's hand toward the tabletop, only to have the direction reversed as the weaker opponent got a burst of adrenaline and, with a loud grunt, forced the back of his rival's hand against the surface with a hard thump. Cheers echoed from bystanders evidently backing the winner, and Efam began doling out appropriate payoffs.

*Is this all these people do?* Mara sent silently. *Engage in mindless contests, and gamble?*

Luke winked in reply. *Only the men.*

Mara, Luke, and the Modesas continued watching several more rounds, with some lasting mere seconds, while other engagements seemed to go on forever.

"Who are those two fellows over there?" Luke asked Jaco, nodding toward a pair of burly men who were taking more than a casual interest in the current match. "I don't remember seeing them before." He frowned as the taller of the two, a rugged-looking man with an unkempt mustache, shot a lecherous glance Mara's direction.

"Those be the Pruden brothers, Eli and Odus," Jaco returned in a hushed voice. "And that's their cousin grapplin' now, the one with the beard. They're a rough bunch, they are. Live out in the wilderness, and only come into town a few times a year."

Luke moved slightly closer to his fiancée as he discerned the mustached brother again looking her way. He nearly missed Jaco's unexpected invitation.

"Would ye like to give it a try, Luke?"

"What?"

"They're calling fer new competitors. Would ye like—?"

"No," Luke cut him off. "I really don't think so."

"Yes, he would," Mara contradicted.

Astonishment plain on his face, Luke turned to the woman standing beside him. "You WANT me to participate in this... grappling?"

Mara shrugged nonchalantly. "Why not? Looks like fun. You're strong." She made a pretext of checking out the competition. "I'll bet you could beat anyone in here."

Jaco suddenly began to fidget and glanced aside at his wife.

"Ye can't be bettin', Mara," Aerie whispered. "Women ain't allowed..."

Oh, no, Luke thought, and he saw that Jaco shared his concern. Not again.

*Don't get all worried, farmboy,* the redhead sent. *I won't embarrass you by 'making a scene' this time.*

"It was a figure of speech," Mara assured her friend. "Seriously, Luke, I'd like to see how you measure up."

"You're joking," Luke blurted aloud before he could stop himself. *Mara, I don't think all this barroom competing is something a Jedi should be doing.*

*Didn't stop you last night.*

*That was different. That was skill, not just... brute strength.*

*I fail to see any difference,* Mara retorted. *Besides, we have the rest of our lives to be strait-laced Jedi. This is our vacation away from all that prim and proper comportment.*

Luke's mouth gaped slightly at her use of the words 'we' and 'Jedi' in the same sentence, reminding him that the Lorrdians were expecting Mara Jade to be a Jedi apprentice. Was the Force helping him out here? Had Mara subconsciously been rethinking her vow to never become a Jedi?

*They won't let me compete,* Mara was continuing silently, as she glanced around the room once more, *even though I'm sure I could take most of this crowd. So you,* she gave him a little shove toward the gaming table, *have to be my proxy.*

"You're not joking," Luke surmised vocally, noticing that his and Mara's overlong silent conversation had drawn a few curious stares.

"Of course not," she acknowledged. "Jaco, do you ever participate in grappling?"

"Well, I haven't in a good while," the dark-haired young man hedged.

"Ye invited Luke to have a go," Aerie pointed out to her husband. "It wouldna' be polite fer ye not to join in yerself."

Jaco reluctantly agreed, and as luck would have it, he and Luke found themselves paired up in the next match.

"Right or left?" Efam asked Luke, as the Jedi slowly seated himself across from his friend.

"Excuse me?"

"Do ye want to use yer right or left hand?" the pub owner repeated. "Since yer the newcomer, ye get to decide."

"Oh, uh, left," Luke murmured. He copied the actions of Jaco, who was rolling up his own left sleeve.

"Stang, I didn't think about..." Mara muttered to herself, suddenly realizing that, even without the Force, Luke's prosthetic right hand could easily give him an advantage. Not to mention the possibility that someone might notice the minute seam where it attached to his wrist.

"This is lucky," Aerie was saying next to her, jolting Mara from her thoughts. "Jaco is left-handed, too."

With one last 'why are you making me do this' frown at Mara, Luke gripped his friend's hand, and held steady against Jaco's energetic push.

*I expect you to do your best,* Mara ordered silently. *No just letting him win.*

Luke spared her a vexed look, but didn't reply.

The contest was short-lived, with Luke effortlessly pressing Jaco's hand completely down within moments.

"Sorry about that," Luke apologized to his comrade, who unexpectedly laughed in return.

"Don't be sorry, chum. With yer strength, I can't believe I lasted as long as I did."

Luke nodded, but when he started to rise, Efam's large hand on his shoulder held him in place.

"Where do ye think yer goin'? There already be challengers lined up clear back to the bar." The pub owner grinned broadly. "We all know Jaco's no pushover. I 'spect I won't be able to keep up with all the bettin' that'll be commencin'. Now, as defendin' winner, it's yer pick. Did ye want to stay with yer left?"

"Yes," Luke murmured, already regretting his letting Mara talk him into this. The emanation of displeasure he sent her way was heightened when he saw a certain Pruden brother now practically rubbing shoulders with his wife-to-be. He watched as Mara picked up on his sense and then turned to spear her stalker with a haughty glare.

Somewhat mollified, Luke turned his attention back to systematically dispatching all his competitors, young or old, wiry or stout. The shorter Pruden brother, Eli, proved to be a more capable adversary than his predecessors, but even he was soon felled by the Jedi's sinewy muscles.

"Have ye worked up a thirst yet?" Filia came forward with a mug of ale for Luke.

"No thanks." He quickly turned down the offer. He wasn't about to start down that path again. Filia had barely walked away when Luke's attention was snagged by a jolt of exasperation lurching out of Mara. Odus Pruden was attempting to engage Mara in an anything-but-meaningful conversation, and the former assassin glowered with repulsion as she brushed him off. Luke rose from his chair, his face a mask of stone, but he did not approach them. Mara's admonition outside the Ranat Roost on Coruscant, scarcely more than a week ago, surfaced in his mind, and Luke tempered his apprehensive concern. Mara would surely take umbrage if he jumped to her defense. She didn't need his help; she didn't want his help. Luke wasn't going to risk losing his bride by losing his temper.

Murmurs ran through the gathering as Odus stalked away from Mara's rebuff and toward the grappling table. Luke stood motionless, waiting, his hands seizing the corners of the table in a vice-like hold.

"Yer woman was downright rude to me," the craggy-faced man sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "I'd a thought a tough man like ye would teach her better manners. But maybe it's cause yer no more than a boy."

"Leave her alone." Luke's voice was even and controlled, but his grip on the table tightened.

"I will," Odus vowed insolently, "if ye kin beat me." He yanked out the empty chair and sat down heavily. "Course, forcin' ev'rybody to fight left-handed weighs in yer favor, don't it, boy?"

The sound of a loud crack suddenly echoed through the pub, followed by spectators' gasps as a broken chunk of wood skittered across the tabletop out of Luke's right hand. "I'm right-handed, actually." He made the statement as a simple fact, but the underlying intimidation was there. "Your choice."

"Luke..." Mara started forward, but halted as Luke's silent voice reached her.

*You started this, Mara. I'm finishing it.*

Mara looked into his eyes, his soul. He was calm, resolute, and in complete control. Not a trace of the dark side tainted his aura. She nodded to him and stepped back. Luke settled into his chair, Pruden's long legs grazing his own under the tiny table.

"Left, then," Odus snarled, lifting his brawny forearm into position, and no doubt thinking Luke's left arm was bound to be tired by now.

Luke was equally relieved by the choice. Better not to have the temptation of crushing the boor's hand.

Wiping the sweat accumulated from past opponents onto his pants, Luke seized the grimy hand of his crass antagonist, whose outstretched reach was considerably longer than his own. The muscular Pruden strained against the slender Jedi. Luke kept his eyes focused on his foe, gauging his strength, watching for deception. If Odus was unnerved by Luke's stare, he gave no indication.

"Bear down, Luke." "Put yer weight into it." "Show 'im what ye're made of." The hazy voices filtered in through Luke's outer layer of perception as he concentrated on his strategy. That Odus Pruden was physically more powerful than Luke could not be denied. Especially a Luke that was determinedly not using his immeasurable Force strength.

Luke felt the treacherous intent a split second before Pruden struck -- the larger man's balled right fist swinging under the table toward Luke's adjacent knee. The Jedi's reflexes easily allowed him to move his leg in time, and the man howled as his fist hit the edge of Luke's chair.

Though Pruden's plan to distract the blond newcomer backfired miserably, Luke declined to take advantage of his opponent's momentary pain. Instead, the Jedi patiently maintained their arms' upright position, then hung on tenaciously as Pruden's renewed wrath threatened to overpower him.

The intense struggle was wearing on the younger man, however, and Luke finally decided enough was enough. Summoning the largest burst of strength he could muster, he gritted his teeth and forced Pruden's hand down to the damaged tabletop.

A scattering of cheers rose from the crowd, but they soon evaporated as more and more of the villagers saw the irate look on Pruden's face.

"What's his problem?" Mara muttered to Aerie and Jaco. "He lost; he should get over it."

"Odus Pruden's never been beat," Jaco whispered back. "And he don't take kindly to anyone spurnin' his advances, neither" he added, giving Mara a knowing look.

"And... Luke and I have managed to offend him on both counts." She nodded matter-of-factly.

Odus was livid. He boldly reached out and grabbed the front of Luke's shirt, jerking the younger man to his feet. The Jedi neither absorbed nor repelled Pruden's anger; rather, he dissolved it as it endeavored to envelop him.

Luke's calm demeanor served only to further infuriate the wilderness man.

"Ye cheated!" Pruden screamed. "Ye musta cheated! A scrawny whelp like yerself couldna' beat me." He yanked Luke closer, his fetid breath invading the younger man's senses.

But Luke, his arms dangling at his sides, merely stared the man down. Murmurs began rising from the bystanders, testifying to the atmosphere of disbelief that Luke could remain so passive.

"I've no quarrel with you," Luke stated quietly, "if you'll just leave us alone."

"What's the matter, boy, scared to fight with yer fists?" Odus taunted.

"He's not afraid of you or anyone else."

Odus glanced over his shoulder at the source of the low, feminine voice. Mara's entire posture radiated a confident readiness.

Eli Pruden moved to stand at one side of his brother, while their whiskered cousin Tors flanked the other. Efam, Hiley, and several others shifted closer to Luke in the tense standoff; the pub owner gripped a short, thick club in one stout fist.

Odus eyed the obvious backing that the newcomers commanded, and released his hold of Luke's tunic, giving him a shove in the process.

"Ahh, ye're not worth the effort." As he retreated away from the table, however, Odus Pruden made a rash and foolish error in judgement.

"Now, yer woman, on the other hand..." the backwoodsman began, as he grabbed Mara and kissed her. Or rather, attempted to kiss her.

Mara's lightening fast reflexes hadn't dulled in the least since her tenure as the Emperor's Hand. She caught Odus in the hollow of his throat with a durasteel jab, then pivoted on one foot to kick his approaching brother in the ribcage. Patrons in two different directions scurried to get out of the way as the Pruden brothers were propelled their way.

Luke joined Jaco in grasping the upper arms of Tors Pruden, preventing him from entering the fray, but the Jedi made no other attempt to come to Mara's aid.

"Ain't ye gonna defend her?" Jaco whispered, his incredulous expression matching that of most of the other bystanders.

"She doesn't need my help," Luke returned quietly, his eyes never leaving his fiancée.

After gauging that her latter victim wouldn't be getting up anytime soon, Mara whirled around, feet apart in combat stance, and stared down into the fuming visage of Odus Pruden.

With one hairy hand still clutched around his throbbing throat, Odus lay sprawled against an overturned table. He gagged reflexively, laboring to catch his breath, and soon succumbed to a fit of coughing. The nervous crowd gave him a wide berth as he struggled to his feet, his fierce glower locked on Mara's resolute features.

Stalking slowly forward, the woodsman paused, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he glared sideways at Luke. "Ye let... yer woman... do yer fightin'?" he sneered hoarsely.

Mara took a step forward before Luke could reply. "Luke and I are a team," she grated out. "You're not dealing with the patient half of that team anymore."

Efam stepped between the aggressors before retaliation could be exacted by either side. "I want all ye Prudens out o' here, now," he ordered, rapping the cudgel in his open palm. "There'll be no more fightin' here tonight."

Tors shrugged out of Luke and Jaco's hold and helped up his cousin Eli, who was gingerly rubbing his painfully bruised ribs. Odus's lip curled in distaste as he passed Luke and Mara.

"Ye're possessed, the both of ye," he snarled, giving the couple one last vicious glare before following his brother and cousin out into the night.

Luke compressed his lips at the suspicious glances various customers were giving him and Mara. It seemed several of the others shared Odus Pruden's assessment of them, including their newfound friends.

"Mara," Aerie breathed in amazement as she sidled her way back from the distant corner of the room that Jaco had sent her to. "I've never seen anythin' like that. How did ye ever—?"

"It was nothing, Aerie," the redhead cut her off. "I just... I used to have to defend myself against my... uh,... brothers, and cousins, growing up."

"Like that?" The blonde gave her a dubious frown. "And I thought ye told me ye didn't have any brothers or sisters."

Stang, Mara thought. This whole mess keeps getting more and more complicated. "They... uh... have all moved away. I meant... I don't have any brothers still living at home."

Aerie nodded, but didn't ask any more questions.

Luke was fending off similar scrutinies of his reticence to explain both Mara's prowess and his own lack of action. Taking Mara's hand, he sent a silent *I think we need to leave.*

*I think you're right,* she returned. Even the former assassin was finding herself disquieted by the chill in the air. Bidding their friends a quick goodnight, the pair retrieved their coats and slipped out as quickly and as unobtrusively as they could.

Luke curled one arm around Mara's shoulders, and she slipped a hand inside his warm coat pocket, as the pair made their way down the nearly deserted street, snow crunching beneath their boots. Late-night revelers could be heard in the distance, but no one approached to disturb their solitude. Both cast careful glances and Force tendrils into the shadows of each building they passed, watching for any sign of revenge-seeking Prudens.

"Think they gave up and actually left town?" Mara wondered aloud.

"I wouldn't count on it," Luke replied. "Though I don't sense them nearby. Not that I'm worried," he continued, giving Mara a playful squeeze, "since I have my bodyguard right here."

"I'm sorry about that, Luke. I reacted in exactly the same manner that I chastised you about at the Ranat Roost."

"No, you didn't," Luke disagreed quietly. "There wasn't a hint of the dark side in you."

"You either, tonight," Mara acknowledged. "Not a whisper. You stayed so calm, while I lashed out without thinking. I didn't even give you the chance to settle things peaceably."

"Hmmm..." Luke sighed. "I don't think breaking off the edge of a tabletop represents serene composure or good common sense."

"That aside, you still have everyone thinking you're a coward for not jumping to my defense."

"I'm not here to impress anyone."

The couple paused as a wagon creaked by in front of them, pulled by a pair of shaggy quadruped farm animals they remembered were called drobbins. The bundled-up family swaying on the wagon's seats gave Luke and Mara a silent wave in greeting as they rolled on, the drobbins' hooves clomping across the snow-covered cobblestones.

"I know you're not, Luke." Mara picked the conversation back up. "It's just... I don't know..." She sighed heavily, her breath crystallizing in the frigid night air. "It bothered me, those looks people were giving you. You're the bravest man I know, and..."

Luke interrupted her with a hearty laugh. "First you don't want me to fight for your honor, now you do. Am I supposed to be able to figure this out?"

Mara joined him in chuckling. "Pruden was wrong about you," she said with a snicker, pulling him to a halt and wrapping her hands behind his neck. "You are worth the effort."

"I tell you, that line sure brought back memories." Luke grinned in the moonlight, tugging her along to resume their trek. "There must be something about me and bar brawls."

"I'm sure you have some retrospective tale that you're about to recount in vivid detail," Mara replied, smirking.

"If you don't want to hear it, just say so." He snorted in mock indignation.

"I wouldn't think of stifling your confessions of your deep, dark past," she joked. Not that she was ready to admit it aloud, but Mara enjoyed Luke's stories of his youth and his adventures in the Rebel Alliance. "Start talking, Skywalker."

"If you insist." He smiled, thinking back to his first experience in a seedy cantina. "It was in Mos Eisley, where I first met Han and Chewie..." Luke paused, memories of that fateful day flooding through him. Mara felt his heart tighten with a mixture of homesickness, dejection, and awestruck wonderment. "Ben and I... Ben Kenobi, that is..."

Mara gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. "I know. Go on."

He nodded in appreciation of her understanding. "We went to Chalmun's Cantina, looking for a pilot to take us to Alderaan. I'd been to Mos Eisley once before, with Uncle Owen, but never to a real cantina. It was nothing like the tapcafs in Anchorhead. So I boldly went up to the bar and ordered a drink, while Ben was questioning spacers for an available pilot. And these two... uh, gentlemen,... a human and an Aqualish, began picking on me. I mean, just because I looked like a greenhorn farmboy..."

"Just because you were a greenhorn farmboy," Mara interjected with a smirk, wondering how much Luke was embellishing this tale to impress her.

"Yeah, I guess. So Ben came up and tried to get them to lay off me. 'This little one's not worth the effort' he told them." He turned to Mara with a sheepish grin. "If one more person describes me that way, I may get a complex."

"Oh, sure," she rejoined, laughing. "Go on with your story. What happened then?"

Luke smiled to himself at her poorly concealed eagerness to hear the rest of his tale. "One of them pushed me down into some tables, and then started to draw his blaster. And then, what occurred next I consider one of the defining moments on my path to Jedi Knighthood."

He paused dramatically, relishing Mara's look of expectation.

"Faster than I could blink, Ben whipped out his lightsaber, and the Aqualish's arm was laying on the floor, his lifeless hand still gripping his blaster. And I just sat next to an overturned chair, with my mouth gaping open, fingering my father's lightsaber hanging from my own belt. Up until then, I'd only heard wild gossip about what Jedi could do, and Ben hadn't given me any specifics yet. At that moment, though, it suddenly dawned on me what I'd be trained to do, what I was expected to be capable of doing. I was giddy with anticipation, and scared to death."

"I think you've proven yourself more than capable." Mara imparted a sincere compliment, a not-so-rare occurrence for her anymore. "I'd imagine, though, that brandishing a lightsaber on an Imperial-controlled world wouldn't be the smartest thing to do."

Luke shook his head. "Actually, no one else in the room seemed to notice, or even care. Maybe they were all too intoxicated, or high on spice, or just determined to mind their own business. Ben and I followed Chewie over to meet Han, then we slipped out when some stormtroopers showed up. Later, on the Falcon, Ben did take great pains to stress that using a saber should always be a last resort. Then, after Ben... died..., I wasn't sure I'd ever become skilled enough to depend on only my lightsaber, much less master it. I still think I have a lot to learn. And..." Luke paused as he pushed open the front door to the inn. "And... I'm probably boring the life out of you."

"No, Luke, not at all." Mara reached for one of the candlesticks that Merta kept in the entryway. "I find your stories fascinating."

Luke lit the candle, its flame casting flickering shadows as they started up the dark stairway. "You grew up amidst the glamour and excitement of Imperial Court. How can my monotonous little yarns be in any way interesting to you?"

"You had the opportunity to discover new things, to make your own decisions, right or wrong, all by yourself."

"Not when my uncle was around," Luke scoffed.

"Even then, you could have left. You stayed there because of your sense of responsibility, not because he forced you. He wouldn't have hunted you down if you'd left." Mara raised one hand and stroked Luke's face as they reaching the landing in front of their room. "You had free will, Luke. I find myself envious of the journey of discovery your life has been."

Luke curled a hand behind Mara's head, threading his fingers through her silky hair. "Mara, on the night I proposed, I told you our physical joining would be just such a journey. I'm amending that. Our entire life together will be a journey of discovering untrodden paths, meeting new challenges, taking risks, and exploring possibilities."

"And we'll overcome any obstacles that stand in our way," Mara continued his avowal, "because we'll meet them head on, together."

"Together," Luke whispered, bending to kiss her gently. "And not just obstacles," he pointed out. "I plan on experiencing countless days of new joys and... pleasures... together with you." He gave her a roguish grin and a sly wink as he backed her into their cozy room.

"Whatever happened to the shy, innocent Jedi I agreed to marry?"

"He's battling with the crazy-in-love, burning-for-you pilot." Luke pulled her into a ravenous kiss, clutching her so tightly she could barely breathe. *He's battling hard.*

"So you're a great warrior," Mara panted between frantic breaths, "in everything you do."

"I..." Luke gulped, shaking his head and exhaling raggedly as he loosened his grip. "Don't... don't ever call me a great warrior."

Mara frowned in confusion at his odd reaction to her words, studying his taut face as he leaned back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. What old memory had she stirred up this time?

She ran one hand lightly down his rising and falling chest as they both struggled to calm the raging inferno of desire in their hearts down to a smoldering glow.

"I think I'll get ready for bed," Mara murmured, forcing herself to back away. She gave Luke a wistful smile as he pried open one eye. "The sooner we go to sleep, the sooner tomorrow will be here."

"That twisted Jedi logic is rubbing off on you," he muttered, holding out his hand as her fingertips slipped out of his grasp.

Mara gathered up her sleeping gown and gave Luke one last lingering look as she headed for the refresher. He was still rooted to the same spot, eyes closed once more, and she swore his lips were silently mouthing the words "one more night..., one more night..." Or perhaps it was those same words reverberating in her own head.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mara drifted awake restlessly. When she had climbed into bed hours earlier, Luke assured her that he would soon join her; he just wanted to meditate awhile first. Even before she stuck one arm out, though, she could sense the empty spot beside her. With both the moonlight streaming into the room and the soft glow of the hearth's dying embers, she had no trouble picking out his silhouette. He was kneeling at the window, arms crossed on the wide sill, forehead pressed against the cold pane of glass.

"Luke?" Mara raised herself up on one elbow. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Luke..."

After a moment's hesitation, a slightly longer mumbled reply came back to her.

"Thinking. Trying to cool off."

Mara could feel Luke tense as she slipped out of bed and crossed the small space between them. She knelt next to the window, leaning against the cool outer wall. Her appreciative eyes roved up and down his strong physique, covered only by the thin sleep pants. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his shoulder, jerking back as her fingertips brushed his burning skin.

*Please, Mara.* Luke's tone begged as he dropped his head down on his arms. *You're not making this any easier.*

"Sorry," she murmured, struggling to quench the flirtatious impulses that were racing through her, especially as she knew he could sense them all too well. They'd been through these trials too many times already, especially the previous morning; he didn't need any more tempting lures from her to have to resist.

"Go on back to bed, Mara. I'll join you shortly."

"Why do I not believe you?" She peered closer at his weary face. "Have you gotten any sleep at all tonight?"

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"Such as?" Mara was not letting him off that easy.

Luke blew out a sigh of frustration. "Just things, Mara." Her restrained silence was enough to coerce him into continuing. "Repairing the ship, getting off this planet, the mission we're supposed to be carrying out..."

"I noticed you didn't include tomorrow in your litany of worries."

"I'm not worried about tomorrow." He finally let a wry little grin escape in her direction.

"Feeling pretty confidant of your love-making expertise, are you?" she teased, glad to see him shaking off his doldrums.

Luke flashed her an unexpected smile. "I'll have you know you're marrying a graduate of the 'Biggs Darklighter Training Course on How to Satisfy a Female.' Of course, you'll be my first endeavor at putting anything past chapter one into practice."

Mara couldn't help herself; she burst into laughter. "Thank the Force. I was afraid you were going say that Solo and Calrissian taught you everything you know."

"Han's tried, believe me. And I generally tune out any advice from Lando." Luke smiled wistfully at his bride-to-be. "No, I'm not concerned about tomorrow -- the ceremony or the wedding night. We'll muddle our way through."

"But something is troubling you," Mara insisted. "Do you think the improvised stabilizer rod won't fit?"

"I'll make it fit," he returned, daring her to comment on his repair skills.

"So...?" She was sure he was keeping something from her.

"I just... I think we need to get to Lorrd as soon as possible. I have a feeling there's more to the situation than negotiating a simple trade agreement."

"Proddings from the Force?"

"Maybe," he murmured, turning once more to stare out into the snowy night.

Mara stood and tugged on his arm, resolutely ignoring the warmth that even that much contact spread through her. "You are going to crawl right into that bed and get some sleep." She interrupted his coming objection. "The next few days are going to require you to be well rested."

"But, Mara..."

She crossed her arms defiantly as she watched him slowly comply. A resigned expression filled his face as he lay down on his stomach, tucking his arms beneath the soft feather pillow. Mara perched on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers up to his waist.

"Now put yourself in a sleeping trance," she directed, reaching one hand out and rubbing his shoulders lightly. His sinewy muscles felt like coiled durasteel cables. "If you remember, I once offered to massage the tenseness out of you."

As she began kneading the tightness in his back, Luke turned his head to the side and opened one eye. "This is supposed to make me fall asleep?"

"You, Jedi, are supposed to be going into a trance. You're the one that said we were going to wallow in misery tonight," she reminded him.

"I don't feel miserable," he muttered, closing his eyes once more. "Do I get to reciprocate some day?"

Mara smiled to herself, remembering the feeling as he cleaned her feet just after they exited the palace sewers. "Only if you start with my feet."

"And work my way up?" He glanced back at her.

She pushed his head back down onto the pillow. "Trance," she ordered, her fingers resuming their path down to his waist.

Luke let himself be engulfed by the comforting presence of both his fiancée and the Force. *I love you,* he sent, before slipping into a deep slumber.

Mara leaned forward and kissed his shoulder gently. *And I love you.*

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mara padded silently down the narrow stairway, her steps and her heart as light as the snowflakes falling outside. Up until nearly three months ago, the idea of her ever getting married had never entered her mind. To be more precise, she had very few ideas that had not originated from her master.

But the Emperor had made a critical error, an error that ultimately had costlier consequences to his Empire than overlooking an unprotected exhaust port on a battle station of death. He had underestimated the human spirit, and the power of love -- the spirit ignited by a spark between a Jedi and a servant, and the love between that Jedi and his father.

Luke may never fully realize the influence he exerts, Mara reflected, just by being himself. His warm-hearted, self-effacing, chivalrous self.

Mara entered the darkened kitchen and lit a single candle. She had spent sufficient time in this room the previous day to easily find her way around in the semi-darkness. Soon a kettle of water sat heating over a small fire in the soot-blackened wood stove. There was an overwhelming sense of peace in the cozy room, a peace that was momentarily pierced by the shrill whistle of the kettle. Mara let the tea leaves steep a few minutes, then gratefully sipped the soothing local blend.

"I thought I heard me kettle singin'." Merta shuffled sleepily through the doorway, a well-worn knitted wrap pulled about her shoulders, covering an equally worn nightgown. Her gray hair hung loose down her back, its pattern of ripples indicative of the plaited bun in which it was usually wound.

"Merta, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb anyone," Mara apologized. "I helped myself to some tea; I hope you don't mind."

"Not if ye pour me a cup, too." The elder woman pulled out a second straight-backed chair at the small table tucked in a corner. "Ye havin' trouble sleepin'?" She smiled in perceived understanding at the young barefoot woman.

"Not me."

Mara's flippant response, however, caused Merta's brow to crinkle in surprise. "Luke? Pre-weddin' jitters, has he?"

Mara shrugged. She could hardly reveal the real reasons for Luke's insomnia.

"Lass, every man has 'em. Menfolk want to appear strong and sure of themselves, but truth be told, they worry more than we do. They fret about supportin' a wife and children, puttin' food on the table, and clothes on their backs. Land's sake, they even worry if they'll satisfy their new bride on their weddin' night."

Mara laughed lightly. "Oh, Luke's not worried about that."

"Is that so? I was under the impression ye two had yet to test those waters."

"Excuse me?" These people sure don't have any hang-ups of what they'll talk about, Mara thought. Must be what happens when a society is never exposed to the social taboos of the rest of the galaxy.

"Ye haven't had relations with each other yet," Merta elaborated. "Which I was a might surprised to hear, with ye sleepin' together and all."

"Where..." Mara narrowed her eyes, more in curiosity than in any resentment of Merta's apparent knowledge. "Where did you hear that?"

"Why, 'cording to Filia, Luke told the menfolk last night."

"What?!"

"Are ye sayin' it ain't so?"

"I... I..." Mara's attention abruptly fixated on her cup of tea, and she felt a sudden need to temper the bitterness that the dark liquid left on her palate.

Merta chuckled warmly. "I'd say it is so, judgin' by how many spoons of honey ye be addin' to that tea."

Mara froze, her spoon hanging in suspension above the nearly overflowing cup. "I didn't think Luke would discuss our personal business," she said in a small voice, more to herself than to her late-night companion. A distant memory jolted through her, of Luke vocalizing a similar grievance over Mara's distorted exaggerations to Leia aboard the Falcon.

"Ahh, don't be hard on him, lass. The way Efam described it to Filia, the men more or less guessed by Luke's reluctance to talk about how much pleasurin' ye two been engagin' in."

Mara looked up quickly in relief, then silently returned her gaze to her cup. She brought the brew to her lips, making a face at its syrupy sweetness. No, Luke would not reveal what went on, or didn't go on, between them. At least, she didn't think he would, even after consuming who knows how many mugs of ale. She wondered briefly if this had anything to do with the men's 'advice' to Luke, about which she had uncharacteristically forgotten to interrogate him.

"Mara, child, I may be just an old woman who takes to meddlin' too much, but, well..."

Mara glanced up again, waiting for Merta to continue.

"Yer own mum has told ye what to expect on yer weddin' night, hasn't she? I'm figurin' yer and Luke's decision to bond came as kind of a spur of the moment thing." She studied the betrothed girl's obviously forced expression of neutrality, then plunged ahead. "Or have ye already been with another man?"

Merta's last question widened Mara's eyes abruptly. An indignant retort died on the younger woman's lips as realization dawned that the motherly figure before her was only asking out of concern.

"No," came Mara's quiet reply.

Merta frowned a bit. "No, yer mum hasn't already discussed this with ye, or no, ye haven't had a roll with a man yet?"

"No to both of those." Mara felt a hint of embarrassment at the curt replies she'd been issuing. "I don't remember my mother. She died, I think, when I was very young."

"I'm sorry to hear that, lass," Merta said, and Mara could discern the woman's heartfelt sympathy. "Would ye like to talk with me, then?" the innkeeper continued, after only a moment's hesitation. "It's been a good sum of years since me own daughter was anticipatin' her new husband, but I figure ye may be harborin' a few of the same anxieties that she had."

Mara paused in her nervous fingering of her teacup. She certainly didn't consider herself naïve or uninformed. On more than one occasion as an adolescent she'd eavesdropped on the court dancers and concubines discussing their latest liaisons. And, of course, her extensive education had included a prosaic, scholarly discourse of reproduction. But Merta was offering a conversation that Mara was sure would be neither boring nor exaggerated -- the kind of explanations that a mother would offer a daughter.

"Yes," Mara answered quietly. "I think I would like to talk."

When Mara slipped back into bed more than an hour later, she was careful not to wake up her sleeping husband-to-be. Luke had reiterated over and over that people would be kind and gracious to her if she would only give them a chance. Tonight she had had that lesson exemplified in a warm and loving manner by a woman she would have been proud to call Mother. How different her life could have been under the guidance of such a caring person. Dare she hope to be half that effective in counseling any children she may have?

Luke twitched in his sleep, and Mara smiled to herself in the darkness. Their children would have the best father imaginable, and a mother who learned how to love from that very same man. They would grow up in an environment as far removed from the cold, sterile life she had experienced as she could possibly make it, she vowed silently. She would give up her own life before allowing any child of theirs to know evil and darkness. And so would Luke.