Leia reflects on her past training with Luke while she trains Rey...
Oh, Luke, I hope I’m doing this right, she thought. Leia was no Jedi Master, but she had learned from the best. And not just from Luke; over the years she’d occasionally heard the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi through the Force, and even more rarely, that of Yoda. Some days it had felt as though she’d learned from the Force itself. She was first and foremost a politician and a general, but she had accepted her Jedi legacy and embraced it as best she could.And maybe that’s exactly what Rey needed: training in the Force not from a formal Master, but rather someone grounded in the everyday minutiae of life and survival. Obi-Wan had failed to keep Vader from the dark side. Luke had failed the same way with Ben. She could not fail Rey.
Insects sang as she walked. Birds warbled overhead, and tiny amphibians trilled their mating calls. Odd how such a raucous place could be so peaceful. The noise was so loud, so ever-present, and so soothing, it was almost as perfect as silence.
Many years ago, not long after the Battle of Endor, she’d discovered the meditative power of sound. She and Luke had stolen away for some training, and somehow she’d ended up standing on her hands while Luke slung good-natured taunts her way. Even with help from the Force, her shoulders had started to burn, her arms wobble. They’d already spent the last hour sparring with their lightsabers, and her body was exhausted.
“You know,” Luke had said, his voice smug, “when I did this on Dagobah, Yoda was sitting on my feet.”
He said that a lot back then. When I did this on Dagobah . . . It was obnoxious and completely unhelpful. So Leia reminded him, “You’re being obnoxious and completely unhelpful.”
“I also did it one-handed,” he added
He was trying to provoke her, to teach her a lesson about anger and impatience, and all that nonsense. Luke had forgotten that his student was a superb strategist who’d already benefited from a royal education. Leia would not be provoked.
Instead, she considered. She reached out to the Force, let it flow through her like blood in her veins. A tiny insect began rubbing its mandibles together, whistling a sweet, high song.
Some instinct guided her, and Leia focused on the sound. It was beautiful, pure, ethereal—completely untethered to the worries of leadership and teaching, failure and learning.
With focus, and with delight, Leia raised herself off the ground.
She floated upside down, feet pointed to the sky. After a moment, she lifted her arms and held them parallel to the ground.
But she was just a student, new to the ways of the Force, and when she came back to herself, fully realized what she’d done, she whipped her hands back down lest she fall.
She did it just in time. Her form collapsed, and she found herself kneeling in mud. No matter. She’d do better next time.
Leia looked up to find Luke staring at her, mouth open.
“Did you ever do that with Yoda?” she couldn’t resist asking.
He shook his head wordlessly.
“I can do better,” she insisted. “Float longer.”
Luke found his voice. “You’re going to make me a better teacher,” he said.
Not the response she’d expected. “What do you mean?”
He reached down, helped her up. “Your footwork is terrible,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, your lightsaber craft is coming along, but . . . you do other things. Naturally.” His face turned apologetic. “What I mean is, you’re exceptional. Just . . . different.”
Then he had smiled, with that wide farm-boy grin that had stayed with him all the way up until the night of Ben’s betrayal.
Leia shook off the memory with effort. Memories were coming fast and vivid these days.
She was glad for this one, though. It would be the key to training Rey. Leia and Rey were different, the last remnants of a dead Order, and together, they would carve a new path."