anonymous asked:

So yes, tell me more about Luke skywalker Wrath™ upon realizing that his father is basically a slave in the Empire and to the emperor and how much torturous the suit is. It's for nothing but pain and feels. Gosh, we're all palpatine in secret.

This is the only time I’m ever okay with being compared to Palpatine. :P Give me pain and feels.

Okay, so when Luke realizes this, he’s understandably angry and would love nothing more than to go put a lightsaber blade through Palpatine’s black, shriveled heart, but he’s smarter than that. So he bides his time and plots in secret. He works to get his father proper medical care and does what he can to tweak the suit’s inner workings to be more medically ethical. They can’t do a lot, because they can’t afford to raise Palpatine’s suspicions, so things on the surface have to stay the same. They have to be careful to work around failsafes, and not trigger alarms because you know Palpatine has tamper alarms in that suit.

But they get it so that Vader isn’t in 100% constant pain, and he can breathe on his own for a short time, enough to probably get him to an oxygen mask or hyperbaric chamber if they need to. They manage to disable the killswitches on his suit, so it can’t be shut down by remote anymore.

Luke does what he can to help build up his father’s self-esteem and self-worth, though it will take years of therapy and love from his son to really make a dent in his cycle of self-loathing and break his childhood conditioning that Palpatine has reawoken for the last twenty years. But it’s mostly Vader/Anakin’s desire to see his son safe and free that gets him motivated to act. Luke reminds him, both with simply his presence but also his words, that Vader has choices, that Vader is a person who was once known as Anakin Skywalker and can be again. That Vader is the father of a beautiful, loving, kind boy named Luke, who believes in the goodness in Vader’s heart and his ability to do the right thing.

Basically, Luke channels his rage over his father’s situation into something useful and healing, and he and his father kill the Emperor together, breaking his father’s chains and freeing the Galaxy in the process.

Alone In A Love Affair Meant For Two - Chapter Two

Happy Independence Day to all my American friends, and you know, have a happy 4th to all of the rest of you lot.

Time to find out what happens to Murtagh and Ellen and the fareie. If you missed the first chapter, you can find it here

As always, thanks and loves to @drunklander

 It had been nearly 6 years since Murtagh had seen Ellen, and it was past time to rectify that. He had kept up correspondence with Brian, and knew of their growing brood, but had never managed to find his way through the pass to Lallybroch. He’d meant to live rough in the heather for a time, but never to abandon Ellen altogether. The letter that found him at Beauly, describing Ellen’s failing third pregnancy made him fear that he had waited too long. Would he now miss the chance to see that elegant, noble face one more time? He cursed himself for a fool and set out that very afternoon.  

Brian’s face was hollow and pale when Murtagh arrived. He was quickly apprised of the situation. The pregnancy that had been normal and uneventful until a few weeks ago, when Ellen began weakening, complaining of terrible headaches. She was larger than she should be, and the women of Broch Tuarach were sure she had miscalculated her time, but she was adamant she was not wrong. The babe was in danger, and she could not be comforted. When she started bleeding and cramping, Brian began to fear in earnest.  

“Murtagh, you came! Ellen will be that happy. Go see her now, seann charaid.” Brian shook his hand and urged him towards the stairs. 

“I canna go into your chamber and visit with yer wife while she is still abed, man. Are ye daft?” Murtagh was already daunted at the thought of seeing Ellen again, and didn’t relish seeing her in her shift in bed, belly swollen with a bairn notwithstanding.  

“She wants to see you, Murtagh. Are you going to send me up there to tell her ye won’t come? I thought we were kin. How could ye send me to face the wrath of Ellen MacKenzie when I deny her that which she demands?” Brian’s words were light and mocking, but Murtagh knew enough to read the fear in his eyes and hear the tightly controlled panic in his voice.  

Murtagh had refused to see Ellen at least until he’d washed and combed his lank hair. He knew he had never been the duine eireachdail that Brian was, but he would not dishonor this lady (his lady, his heart screamed) by appearing before her dusty and disheveled.  

When he looked at her face through the open door, eyes closed against the soft shafts of sun that filtered through her gauzy curtains, his heart squeezed in his chest and his breath caught. This majestic creature could not be in peril. He had to find a way to save her. She must not die. 

He sat near her on the bed and reached out, oh so tentatively, to stroke the fingers of her pale hand. She opened her eyes and smiled into his. Her smiled deepened and solidified as she came full awareness.  

“Murtagh! Ye beastly man! How could ye stay awa for so long?” She slapped his hand away from hers, only to grab it back and kiss his knuckles, laughing and crying at the same time. “It’s that good to see you.” 

They talked about nothing, gradually growing accustomed to one another again. Ellen reached for his hand, holding tight. 

 “I’m afraid, Murtagh, and I canna tell Brian, for fear of upsetting him more than he is already. I’m afraid I will die before the bairn is ready to be born. I don’t think I can last long enough to get him here safely. It’s too early for him yet.” Ellen sighed in resignation. “I could always tell you anything. Aye, it’s a boon to have ye with me just now.” 

Talking to Murtagh seemed to energize Ellen, and soon she was propped up in bed, animated in lively conversation, reminiscing about old times. After a while, Ellen became still and seemed anxious. It was obvious she had something particular she wanted to say. 

“What is it, a leannan? Did ye no just say ye could tell me anything?” Murtagh was gentle and coaxing, and finally Ellen relaxed.  

“The faerie, Murtagh. D’ ye remember the faerie? The Auld One I told ye about all those years ago? She comes to me when the babe is restless and soothes him. She places her hands on my belly like so,” and taking Murtagh’s hands, she placed them on either side of the huge mound, so that they were cupping the bairn within, and he could feel the strength of the little one. His heart clenched and he snatched his hands back as if her stomach were a blazing fire. ‘Aye, I mind her.” he snapped. 

“It’s almost as if she is ministering to me – to the bairn. As if she is using some fae magic to keep us safe. She holds him between her hands and he quiets and I feel the most radiant peace and love flow through my body. She’s keeping me safe, Murtagh. Me and the wee babe.” 

Murtagh had no response to that, but simply listened as Ellen talked, letting her ease her mind without causing more anxiety to Brian. It was a burden Murtagh would gladly bear. 

Several days later, Ellen took a turn for the worse. She was all but delirious, and spent the day twisting and writhing. She had been in and out of awareness and Brian wasn’t sure she would last the night. He had hardly left the room since Murtagh’s first visit, and looked nearly as drained and ill as his wife. As much as he feared to leave her side, Brian had two hysterical children who needed him. They’d been left in the capable hands of Murtagh and Mrs. Crook for days, but they needed the love and reassurance of their Da.

“Murtagh, the weans need me just now, but I canna bear to leave Ellen alone. Will you sit with her and watch over her for me? I know she’d want ye by her side, you being her oldest friend.” 

Murtagh was overwhelmed by the trust Brian placed in him. But how could he sit with Ellen, in her husband’s place, when he loved her as deeply today as he had ever done? He tried to protest that surely Mrs. Crook was a better choice but Brian waved off the suggestion without even a hint of consideration. 

“Nay, man, she loves ye. Truly, she does. And I know you love her. Dinna think I was any more blind then than I am now, mo charaid.” He said, raising a meaningful brow.  

“I ken how ye feel about her, and I also ken that there has never been a more loyal friend to either of us. Ye made great sacrifices in order to honor her choice and her happiness. I’ve always kent that. I love ye for that and more. D’ye not know that?” 

He shrugged in his shirt and grabbed Murtagh’s hand in near desperation. “I’m asking you to guard my wife, Murtagh. Hold her here. Keep her soul with ye, while I tend to her bairns. Please, man. I need ye.” 

Murtagh had been sitting with Ellen for more than four hours, and she had finally settled into a somewhat peaceful sleep. Night had fallen in earnest when he thought to go get Brian and send him to his bed. He stood in the doorway of the nursery, and saw Brian, asleep on Willie’s bed. Both the wee lad and lass clinging to him in their sleep. He realized that this was likely the first night of real sleep any of them had had. Nay matter, he thought. If Ellen was no better, still, she was no worse. He would content himself with sitting by her side and watching her sleep.  

Her face was so beautiful. A few years older with the wisdom of motherhood beginning to show in slight creases around her eyes. He relished the chance to examine her unobserved. He settled in for the night, wrapped in his plaid, kept company by his memories and the steady, rhythmic breathing coming from the bed.  

He must have drifted off for a time because he came awake with a start, feeling an odd sense that there was someone in the room with them. The moon had risen high and was casting a silver glow, bathing Ellen in its magical light. Murtagh sat up straighter and stretched. It was then he noticed the woman bent over Ellen, hands on her belly, chanting something so low Murtagh couldn’t make out any of the words.  

The woman paid him no mind, but clearly knew he was present and awake. She too was bathed in the luminous moonlight. Her skin shimmered like pearls. Ellen stirred and shifted. She was moaning and whimpering, muttering things under her breath. The ethereal creature continued to minister to Ellen, speaking louder now, her voice no longer soothing, but harsh and commanding.  

“Dammit, Jamie! Be still.” Murtagh could just make out the words, but could make no sense of them. “A bhith fhathast, mo chridhe. Chan eil e fhathast ùine agad.”  

Murtagh continued to watch this strange bhana-mhaighstir with a growing sense of drowsy content. He felt lost in the haze of her striking hands he gradually drifted off. When he awoke at dawn, Murtagh felt a sense of peace that had never been with him before. He felt a sense of destiny and purpose that was as yet undefined, but clearly present in his mind.     

Ellen looked significantly improved. Her skin glowed and the fitful thrashing of the night before had entirely ceased. Per her own words, she was larger than ten heiland coos, with a bairn trying to rip its way out through her belly. She still had headaches, and could only leave her bed for short periods without her pains coming on, but the immediate danger seemed to have passed and everyone in the household reflected the same relief and gratitude. 

Three weeks later, Ellen safely delivered a healthy, and large, baby boy. He was vigorous and strong, with a lusty cry that made his needs immediately known. He was beautiful, with a sweet temperament and it wasn’t long before every woman in the house was arguing about whose turn it was to hold the fiend. 

Brian rarely had to put his foot down with Ellen, because it was his fondest wish to grant her every desire – it was everyone’s fondest wish to grant Ellen MacKenzie her every desire. So when he flatly refused to allow her out of bed following the babe’s delivery, the full power of his Fraser stubborn streak rearing it’s ugly head, Ellen meekly obeyed, and elegantly held court in her chambers, showing off the striking wee bairn to visitors from the estate.  

It was on such a day, about a week after the lad was born that Murtagh found himself in her room, doing something he had never done, and had never thought to do. He was holding the wee lad. Ellen’s bairn. To Murtagh’s inexperienced hand, he seemed small and weak as a kitten with the blue eyes and fiery red hair that marked him as a MacKenzie, no matter that his clan was Fraser. The babe shifted and stretched in his arms, and Murtagh stiffened unconsciously. 

Ellen laughed merrily, like she used to back at Leoch. “Murtagh,” she crooned, “stop worrying. You won’t break him. He’s a braw lad.”  

 Just then, wee Jamie finished his stretch, belched in contentment, and grasping the tip of Murtagh’s finger with his impossibly small hand, opened his eyes to stare intensely into the dark, deep-set eyes of the stranger holding him. Murtagh was transfixed. He had never thought to love another soul as deeply as he loved Ellen, but in that moment, he knew this lad was his. Not his son, never that, but his for the keeping, nonetheless. 

Quite without thought, Murtagh handed the bairn back to his mother and knelt before Ellen, dirk held before him in the ancient symbol of fealty. Murtagh pledged his oath to the tiny form swaddled at his mother’s breast. As he did so, he heard the faintest echo of the fae woman’s whisperings and knew that she was a party to this pledge. She would see him honor it, no matter the cost.  

For the first time in years, Murtagh felt whole. The dark, aching void in his heart that he had always labeled ‘Ellen’ was suddenly full to bursting. At long last, he understood. Ellen, the woman he would indeed love all of his days, had finally settled comfortably into her place in his heart. She was, indeed, the mother of his child, but how was he ever to have understood that he would not be the father? This babe, so precious, had brought with him Murtagh’s place. His purpose.

Murtagh was no longer alone.


When Murtagh stumbled upon the redcoat scum of a captain attempting to force himself on a bedraggled looking woman, he acted first and thought second, knocking out the Captain and dragging him off of the puir lass. All was confusion in the aftermath, as the lass clearly thought that one attacker had been replaced by another. He tried to quiet her but she was too far gone in panic, so he did the first thing that came to mind and hit her over the head with the butt of his dirk. 

It was only as her face went slack and he moved to support her slumping body that he was able to look at her clearly. He felt all his blood drain to his toes and started to see black spots flash in the periphery of his vision. He slid down the trunk of the tree taking the senseless lass with him, and whispered in astonished reverence, “Mary, Michael and Bride! It’s you.” 

Craicte – cracked, crazy 

seann charaid – old friend 

duine eireachdail – handsome man 

mo charaid – my friend 

A bhith fhathast, mo chridhe. Chan eil e fhathast ùine agad. - Be still, my heart. It is not yet your time.  

bhana-mhaighstir – a woman in a position of authority or control