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The man has pale eyes under red bangs and a slightly tanned, handsome face.
He's selling figurines in transparent boxes. Ben picks one up to examine it. It’s a very lifelike, very ugly rancor. The box is thin: it likely wouldn’t withstand a blaster bolt or even just being smashed against a wall.
“Why are they in boxes?”
It’s written on the guy’s face that he finds the question ridiculous, but his tone is polite: “To protect them from the dust and dirt of the market.” When Ben just tilts his head in confusion, the man explains: “It’s marzipan. Sweet food. Have you never seen marzipan figurines before?”
“No.” Ben has tried many desserts, from Uncle Chewie’s wasaka-berry pudding to that chocolate-meiloorun melon cake in one of the Senate meetings his mother had dragged him to before she realized Ben is not interested in politics. But not miniature edible rancors.
It looks incredible, the rancor's huge, disgusting mouth so realistic Ben wonders if it doesn't taste like the corpse of the beast's latest unfortunate dinner.
He decides to buy the little candy beast silently roaring at him.
“Did you make it?” Ben asks as he gives the man the credits, then puts the box into his basket, between a bottle of blue milk and a huge white fruit with purple spots Ben has also never eaten before.
“Yes. It’s very good.”
Ben finds the guy’s confidence charming. He wants to asks more: What’s your name, where are you from, what do you do, who are you, do you like me? But there’s a family behind him, two children holding their mother’s hands and chattering excitedly about which candy figurines to buy, and a huge, battered droid towering behind them with four arms holding four big baskets.
Ben barely leaves the market gate when he starts to regret not trying to at least introduce himself, to tell the guy to… what? Come visit him, here’s his hotel room number? Maybe it would have made the man uncomfortable. Ben wouldn’t have wanted that. Or he would have laughed at Ben, told him to fuck off with a mocking sneer. That would have been awful.
The city center is far from here, though he can see big buildings reaching up towards the bright sky, not as tall as the ones on Coruscant, nor as beautiful as those around Theed’s royal palace, but they still have a certain simple, sturdy grace Ben likes. Now he’s in a sort of suburbs, clean and nice: a few people are walking or driving their speeders, but it’s not a crowd. It’s all quite peaceful.
He doesn’t know where to go. He could either continue wandering, aimless and unhurried, or look at the map on his datapad and visit a museum or some ancient ruins, or whatever tourist attractions Seswenna has to offer.
Before he could decide, however, he sees the glint of water.
It’s a park with a little lake. He finds a bench, and watches the three pelikki on the lake, though they’re not very interesting. Once one of their throat poaches expands for a moment, but then the bird doesn’t do anything. They just float on the water with no purpose. Ben can sympathize.
He takes the candy rancor out of his basket, still in its flimsy, transparent box, but it looks so good he doesn’t have the heart to eat it. Which is funny; it’s not like he never destroys things he shouldn’t, but now that here is this thing which is meant to be eaten, to be torn apart with his teeth, chewed and swallowed, he doesn't want to do it.
Though, to be honest, he doesn’t even remember his last fit of destructive anger… He’s older now, and the occasional explosive rages of his teenage years are over, mellowed into tired resignation. It’s still possible that one day he suddenly becomes Force-sensitive, but it’s very, very unlikely. Which is not fine, but it’s the truth, and there’s nothing Ben can do about it.
When Ben was younger, he used to hope that learning about the Force would make him Force-sensitive. He learned about thousands of years of Jedi history with Lor San Tekka’s help, who knew so much about Jedi lore despite not being a Force-user himself. Ben could recite the name of hundreds of Jedi and when and where they lived and why they were famous. He quite liked San Tekka, both his vast knowledge about the Force and his endless patience while dealing with Ben. Ben thinks the old man liked him too, or at least he seemed honest whenever he praised Ben for his clever comments, though it’s possible he wouldn’t have been so fond of Ben if he hadn't been the son of the Princess of Alderaan. San Tekka seemed to really admire his mother.
San Tekka shunned the Dark, though Ben tried unsuccessfully to convince him that to truly understand the Force they must study both sides – the Light and the Dark, the Jedi and the Sith and even those Force-users who weren’t either. But San Tekka, like Uncle Luke, believed that the Dark is a perversion of the Force, a wrong, evil path.
Ben thought secretly that he would be happy to use only the dark side if only he could use the fucking Force. He just wanted to be Force-sensitive, and then he would have found his own methods and beliefs. And there were some Sith legends that were really cool, even if San Tekka and Uncle Luke refused to admit it. Uncle Luke is too careful, and he seems to be afraid of the true possibilities of the Force. Ben wouldn't be afraid. He suspects Uncle Luke has always been afraid of Ben one day becoming Force-sensitive: such an angry, impatient child would want more than what Uncle Luke allows, not like his other stupidly obedient, weak little Jedi apprentices.
Ben huffs, annoyed. He looks around, and the first thing that catches his eyes is the back of a red head; the good-looking guy from the market is throwing food to the pelikki.
He’s wearing the same outfit he had when Ben bought the candy rancor, but now Ben can better examine the stranger’s fancy yellow shirt with a purple collar that glitters cheerfully in the sunlight, and his tight blue pants with a white belt. The high fashion of the Core Worlds would probably consider the ensemble tacky. Ben likes it.
Ben walks to him, until he’s standing so close his arm almost brushes the other man’s. He turns to look at Ben.
“Hi,” Ben smiles. “I’m Ben.”
“Oh, hello. I’m Armitage. Nice to meet you. Was the rancor delicious?”
“It looks so good I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. I think I will keep it, so that every time I look at it I’ll remember you. I mean. The planet. Like a souvenir.”
The man’s eyes widen for a moment. Ben blushes, then blushes even more when he realizes Armitage has freckles, quite a few of them, on his cheeks and especially on his nose. They’re adorable.
“Are you a tourist, Ben?”
“I am.”
Armitage gives him some of the bird food: it’s not like the small fish they give on Naboo to the pelikki. It has such an unappetizing greenish-gray color Ben almost grimaces. Perhaps the birds are colorblind.
Ben throws the food into the water, watching with a grin as the three pelikki swiftly move to it. He expects a fight – wouldn’t that be fun! But then the birds realize there’s enough for all of them, and they eat peacefully.
“So you’re a… candy figurine maker?”
Armitage smiles, then the smile slips off his face. “I know it’s not an impressive job. That there are jobs that impact the galaxy more. But my mother is a cook, and she’s the only family I have, so I do what she does. She can cook better, though – not marzipan figurines, those are my specialty. But she’s a genius. I’m better than most people, of course, but no one is better than my mother when it comes to cooking.”
Armitage sounds so proud of his mother.
Ben is proud of his mother too, even if he also hates how famous and accomplished Leia Organa is: it’s hard to be the son of someone who’s a princess and a senator and a war hero, because people expect so much from her son. Whenever San Tekka praised him, it was ‘Look at how smart you are, just like your mother!’ or ‘No wonder you’re so good at learning history, you’re Princess Leia’s son, after all!’. And he was also meant to be as brave and charming as his father, and a good, selfless Jedi like his uncle…
“What kind of figurines do you make? Just animals, or…?” Ben remembers an ikopi and a tauntaun, and perhaps there was also a pelikki?
“Mostly animals, yes. People love animals, both the cute, fluffy ones and the ugly beasts. But I make other things too. Famous starships, sometimes, like–“
“The Executor?” Ben interrupts him.
“Yes, I did that too, once.” Armitage lowers his voice, leans a little closer. He smells so nice. Ben hopes his heart won’t start beating loud enough to be heard by Armitage. “I wanted to make the Death Star last year for the galactic competition, but mother was so vehemently against it I ended up making the ancient observatory of Seswenna instead – it’s a very beautiful building, about half a day with speeder from the city to the north, if you have the time you should definitely visit it before you leave the planet. Anyway, mother said it would be horrible to make something that killed so many people. Which, fine, I guess, but starships can kill many people too, and she doesn’t forbid me from making marzipan starships. Even a rancor can kill people… How many people killed is too many? I still think making the Death Star would have been cool, but whatever.”
“I think it would have been cool, too,” Ben says, though he, son of the Princess of destroyed Alderaan, can see Armitage’s mother’s point too. “But yeah, many wouldn’t have liked it. There’s a… marzipan making competition?”
“There is. One day I will get first place. Some say competitors from unimportant planets don’t have a chance, that it’s always some rich planet like Coruscant or Naboo who wins, which… I used to think that’s stupid, but… After what happened with the marinated bantha and the Senate… ”
Ben frowns. “What happened with the marinated bantha and the Senate?”
“There was a huge, several days long celebration in the Hydian Hotel, which is the biggest hotel on Seswenna, and my mother was the one responsible for the food. I helped with getting the ingredients, and it went very smoothly, except for one thing. There’s a very special way to marinate bantha meat which takes ten days. So I ordered it in time, and three days before the celebration I got a message that there will be a very important banquet for the senators on Hosnian Prime in five days, and they want our marinated bantha. I was so mad. I told them the Senate should have ordered it in time, like I did, and that if they forgot to do so they shouldn't get it, not if it means that they have to steal it from us. But the Senate of the New Republic is more important than a hotel on Seswenna. My mother had to cook something else.” Armitage huffs, staring up at the sky with hard eyes, as if he could glare the whole Senate to death from a planet on the other side of the galaxy. “So that’s the story of why I fucking hate the Senate. It’s stupid. I know it’s not a big deal. Whatever. I’m over it.”
Armitage laughs, but Ben feels like it does hurt him even if he tries to pretend it doesn’t matter.
“I’m sorry that happened.”
Armitage shrugs. “It’s not your fault. But thank you.” He throws the last pieces of bird food to the pelikki. “Well, my little break is over. I must go back to the market now.”
Ben swallows. Being in Armitage’s company is so nice, he doesn’t want him to leave so soon. “Okay, sure. It was nice to meet you.”
Armitage stares at him. His eyes are soft.
“I know on most planets people proposition others in seedy cantinas, not in parks, but I find you quite handsome and sweet. Do you want to come home with me tonight after I'm finished?”
Ben blinks, wondering if Armitage could see how attracted Ben is to him or if he was brave enough to try this without knowing what Ben thinks about him, then decides it doesn’t really matter.
“Yes.”
Armitage comes with a soft groan. Then he pulls out, one of his hand moves away from Ben’s hip, the other from his cock, and for a few heartbeats there’s nothing but the lack of a warm body and silence.
That's all, Ben thinks, bitter and disappointed. Now that the other man had his orgasm, he won’t bother bringing Ben off. He’ll tell Ben to leave, and Ben will barely have time to dress before he’s kicked out of this cozy little house, and he can go back to the hotel and then leave Seswenna and never again even think about–
Two hands on his ass, spreading him open, warm breath against the sensitive, stretched rim of his hole, then a tongue licking Armitage’s come out of his ass, as enthusiastic as if it were some delicious sugary syrup. Ben can’t stop moaning into the orange embroidered pillow until he comes with an embarrassingly loud shout.
He rolls onto his back, still panting, and weakly smiles at Armitage, who is grinning down at him smugly.
“We're lucky my mother isn’t home yet – she would have heard that even from the other side of the house.”
Ben blushes. “Where’s your father?”
Ben instantly regrets the question. There could be so many reasons Armitage wouldn’t want to talk about his father–
“I was four when the Empire fell. My father, Brendol Hux, commandant of the Imperial Academy on Arkanis, wanted me to come with him, but mother, who wasn’t his wife, took me with her against his will to Seswenna, her home planet. I love her so much and I love this planet. But a few years ago I decided to meet my father, because I was curious about the other life I could have had. I couldn’t choose between my two parents when I was four, but I am an adult now, I thought. I wanted to at least see what he's like. My mother was very much against it. We argued for hours.” Armitage grimaces, shakes his head like he wants to shoo away the unpleasant memory. “In the end I went to Arkanis, and…”
Armitage pauses. Ben gives him an encouraging smile.
“I met my father. He looked a lot like me, yet very different. I introduced myself, and told him that I want to see what my father is doing. Because life with my mother is very good, but sometimes a bit boring. My father told me that he would have been happy to raise me as his child after we had to leave Arkanis, would have taught me all I needed to know, made me the person I needed to be, but as an adult it’s too late, that I can’t learn now what I would have been able to learn as a little boy. Do I know anything about warfare? About the great deeds of the Empire? Then he dared to say that maybe I’m a spy of the New Republic, and I plan to steal their secrets and tell the Senate! How ridiculous! Well, that was my great adventure – not very exciting, I know. So now I’m still here on Seswenna, making marzipan figurines and helping mother and sometimes organizing a party.”
Armitage sighs. He looks worried, though Ben isn’t sure what he’s worried about. That Ben would hate him because his father used to be an Imperial officer? Is Armitage ashamed of that? Or is he upset about not getting to be his father’s son instead of his mother’s?
“What would your life would have been like with your father?”
Armitage shrugs. “I have no idea. I don't even know where he is and what he's doing now. He doesn’t live on Arkanis, just visits it sometimes. It was a coincidence that I happened to travel there when he was there too. I don’t think the academy works now, though I didn’t go there. I left the planet as quickly as I could. I was afraid he would send a bounty hunter after me or something awful like that, just to make sure that, in case I found something compromising, like a new weapon or something, I won’t tell the New Republic if I really am their spy. I wasn't, but my father seemed like the kind of person who wouldn't want to take a risk.”
Now Ben feels awful for so often blaming his father for his own inability to use the Force, thinking that if only his father were Force-sensitive, he could have sired a child who was as well. Instead, Han Solo used to tell little Ben that he shouldn’t be so upset about this silliness, that there are plenty of great heroes who can’t use the Force, and it’s rather overrated. Ben used to hate him because of it – but at least he never had to worry about his father sending a bounty hunter after him.
Ben yawns suddenly. Armitage kisses him, quick, lips closed.
“Sleep here tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll cook you the best breakfast you’ve ever had.”
Ben caught only a glimpse of the kitchen earlier, while they were making their way to Armitage’s bedroom, holding hands, Ben already half-hard just from the thought of having sex with this lovely stranger. The kitchen had huge windows and a big table with a bright green tablecloth and sturdy blue legs. It would be nice to sit there and eat breakfast made by Armitage. “Thank you.”
They shower in the bathroom, first Armitage, then Ben. There’s water, both warm and cold, and a purple gel that smells faintly sweet. It smells like Armitage, or, rather, Armitage smells like the gel. Ben figures he’s allowed to use it too – surely he would have been told if not, and if Armitage is willing to make him breakfast, why would he be mad about this? There’s a bathtub, just big enough for two: Ben wonders what it would be like to lie there in scorching, scented water, maybe with some foam too, with Armitage’s back resting against his chest.
Armitage gives him clean pajamas, which are a bit small and tight, but better than his dirty clothes. The shirt and the pants are both bright blue with pink stripes.
“Your clothes are… colorful.”
“My mother is the one responsible for what we wear. I don’t care about fashion. Do you dislike it? I’m afraid all my pajamas are colorful. Well, there’s a grey one, but that has weird orange patterns. Would you prefer that?”
“No, this is good, thank you.” He looks at Armitage, who has his back turned to him, busy fluffing up the pillows. “Don’t feel bad about your Imperial father. My grandfather was Darth Vader, so. I know how that feels.
Armitage turns around, a look of utter incredulity on his face. “What? That’s– I don’t believe that. Are you trying to impress me?”
Most people, Ben thinks, would be frightened or at least uncomfortable, not impressed.
“My mother is Leia Organa, Darth Vader’s daughter.”
“I thought that was just baseless libel by those who disagreed with her?”
Ben shakes his head. Armitage still looks doubtful.
Ben is suddenly afraid he will ask Ben to prove it using the Force the infamous Darth Vader was known for, and Ben would have to admit, bitter, shameful, hating himself for being faulty, for not being Force-sensitive, that he can’t do that. Instead, Armitage walks to him, touches his arm gently.
“If that’s true, that’s an even messier family than mine! I used to think being the bastard of an Imperial Commandant was scandalous, but – I can’t believe I fucked Darth Vader’s grandson!” Armitage smirks, then his face becomes serious. “Are you upset about it?”
Ben swallows. He hates talking about it, but after Armitage’s tale about his father, maybe Ben can tell Armitage at least some of his own misery. “I’m not Force-sensitive. Not even a little bit: I can’t levitate a fucking pebble! My grandfather, my mother and my uncle are Force-sensitive – though my mother doesn’t care about it, which is so unfair, if she has this gift she should use it all the time! But my uncle is Luke Skywalker, you must have heard about him. If someone with such a family can’t be a Force-user, who can?”
“I don’t know much about this ‘Force’, Ben,” Armitage admits. Of course he doesn’t. Very few do. Armitage has probably never met a Force-sensitive person, perhaps he doesn’t even believe it exists, and is only humoring Ben. “And though I know what it's like to wonder what it would be like if your life was different, well, even if you’re not Force-sensitive, what then? Most people aren’t. But they can still have, how does my mother say it? Fulfilling lives, or something like that.”
Ben wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, not after Armitage brought him home and fucked him and gave him pajamas and promised to make him breakfast tomorrow.
Next morning, Ben meets Armitage’s mother, Alis, which is a weirdly simple name compared to her son’s. Alis smiles a lot, talks to Ben with warmth in her voice, and wears a yellow, green and blue dress with a pink shawl. Her hair is brown with some grey, so Armitage must have inherited his pretty red hair from his father, but the shape of his nose and his smile is exactly like his mother’s.
The breakfast is simple but delicious: scrambled eggs with vegetables and a bowl of green pudding with chocolate sprinkles. When Ben’s plate gets empty, Armitage scrambles to offer him more scrambled eggs.
“How long will you stay on Seswenna?” Alis asks. She’s already done with her breakfast, and so is Armitage: they cooked and ate while Ben was still asleep in Armitage’s bed.
“I don’t know,” Ben says. “I don’t have to go anywhere else now, so I suppose I could stay for a while. Maybe with Armitage. I mean, I wouldn’t want to bother him if he’s busy with other things, but it would be nice to have a local who would be my guide.”
“How much do you know about Seswenna, Ben?”
“Not much.”
“The whole sector is named after it, that’s how important this planet used to be,” Alis starts to explain. “It was the capital of the sector, and part of the Hydian Way, one of the main super-hyperroutes of the galaxy, but that was in the past, and now Eriadu is more important, both politically and economically: now the Hydian Way is there. There are many on Seswenna who still mourn this loss, but I think that, since we can’t bring those days back, we should focus on what we have now. There's still plenty to do on this planet. It’s the same with the fall of the Empire – Armitage and you don’t remember what it was like, but there are many who live that do and wish we still had that, though I don’t believe we should try to remake the Empire.”
Armitage, sitting next to Ben and idly watching him eat, sneers. “Because the New Republic is doing everything wonderfully, right?”
“No government is perfect and without corruption, but I prefer the one that only stole our marinated bantha to the one that destroyed Alderaan,” Alis answers patiently. Ben has the feeling this is something the two have talked about before more than a few times.
Armitage scowls. “Perhaps there could be a third one, better than either of those.”
“But not one built from the ashes of the Empire. Now if you want to do something, show Ben the beauty of this planet, and after that figure out what you’ll make for the next competition.”
“The marzipan figurine making galactic competition?” Ben chimes in.
“Yes,” Alis grins. She ruffles Armitage’s hair affectionately. Armitage allows it with some good-natured grumbling. “He mentioned that you bought one of his rancors, but those are nothing compared to the wonders he creates for the competition. He will win one day, I’m sure of it. I told him after his little adventure on Arkanis that he should focus on this instead of wondering what his father is doing. So what if he was a powerful man of the Empire? There’s no Empire anymore, just like Seswenna is no longer the most important planet of this sector. Still, Seswenna thrives in its own way, and so do we. We shouldn’t allow the glorious past or some famous family member to overshadow the present and who we are. We should have fulfilling lives on our own.”
Ben wonders if Armitage told her about Ben’s family and how he isn't Force-sensitive, or if she’s talking only about their situation without knowing about Ben’s problem. Either way, she’s right, even though it’s hard to just get over it after spending a whole childhood waiting for the Force, playing around in robes too big for him as if he were already a Jedi, and then, later, reading all those legends about both heroic Jedi and ruthless Sith Lords, so powerful, capable of so much more than ordinary beings, wishing to be like that, he was supposed to be like that…
“I don’t have to go to the market today,” Armitage says suddenly, pulling Ben out of his moody thoughts. “We could spend the whole day together. Where do you want to go? How much time do you have?”
“How much time do I need to see everything on Seswenna?”
Armitage and Alis look at each other, then burst out laughing. Armitage grabs Ben’s hand – the one not holding the fork –, his lovely pale eyes sparkling with mirth. “You’d need a whole lifetime to see everything here!”
Where else should Ben be? If he were Force-sensitive, he would probably be with Uncle Luke and his Jedi apprentices right now, but he isn’t, so now he’s eating breakfast on Seswenna in the house of his new lover and his mother. They aren't Force-users either, but Armitage and his mother still seem happy.
Ben squeezes Armitage’s hand. They smile at each other.