Some things are hard to remember, and some things are easy to forget.
I don't own star wars so don't sue
this is a prequel to my other story "Welcome Home"
Someone once told me that war does not make one great... I am not so sure about that. I find that there are only two constants in the universe. War and the force. It's been 300 years since the war with the Chiss started, 400 since the fall of the Yong, and 600 since the collapse of an empire. I find myself in orbit of Maxell, the last of the Chiss worlds, wondering about destiny. I am the last of the Skywalker-Solo clan. Its funny, a family that controlled the galaxy for a century dies without much of a thought by the people we once ruled and served. I have seen the death of each member of my family and each time I wonder when it will be my turn. I was there each time one of them died, my son Ben, Han, the twins, Leia...Mara. It hurts when I try to remember them, but hurts even more when I try not to. They use to come to me in visions saying to trust the force and that they would be watching. The last come over 450 years ago. I have lived longer without them then with them. I no longer remember what they even look like; all I have are old feelings and my broken memories. In the distance I hear cheering, the battle is won but I care little for it. I look out at the stars and wonder, when destiny will have no more use for me, and when I can just fade away and become nothing more then a ... broken memory...