Her gnarled hands shook as she slipped the letter inside the envelope. The stationary was thin and cheap with no laser embossed seals of nobility or elaborate gilt edges. It was the cheap paper servants used.

Servant. The Republic worlds thought it a more dignified title than slave. The little pay and lodging that came with it, implied a better status—with freedoms, that mere slaves would never enjoy. After a lifetime spent toiling for impatient nobles, those freedoms seemed irrelevant.

Her life held so much promise. She was born from solid Imperial stock. Even as a child, she was proud and honourable, but those qualities weren’t enough to save her family. The details of that night had waned over the years—she couldn’t even remember her parent’s faces anymore, let alone why they were executed.

She did remember a smuggler. He caught her wandering the streets and took her in. After a few terrifying months of being cooped up on his ship, helping him to hide relics and trick Hutts, he dropped her off on Alderaan to live with ‘some good friends of his.’ He promised her, they would give her a good life, and they did. They fed her, clothed her and trained her to be a nurse. In the absence of true family, these people were as close as one could get, even if they were Republic sympathizers.

She sighed at the memory. That was a lifetime ago, and the child she had inherited needed to be dealt with. She had cared for him for five years, but it was time to let him go. He was a good boy, as boys go. He had special gifts. A great power slept within him. She would miss him, but not for long. The pain in her chest reminded her daily, she didn’t have much time left.

Dragging the pen across the envelope, she finished her task.

“Master Jedi, I know your order discourages attachments to the past, but please, consider this my last request. Give this to the boy when he’s old enough. So that he understands.”

The Jedi nodded and took the envelope. “Did you want a moment before I take him?”

“No. Just leave me.”

The Jedi waited until his new charge slept, before opening the old nursemaid’s letter. His brow furrowed as he read…

~Vitality,

By the time you read this, I will be long dead. My name doesn’t matter. It isn’t out of some desperate vanity, that I’m writing to you. It’s so that you can know your beginnings.

I was your mother’s nursemaid. She was a generous mistress, and I devoted most of the years of my life to her well being. I never knew your father in life, but I know this, he was a powerful Jedi. He loved your mother, even if his responsibilities took him from her most of the time.

All powerful men have their secrets, and your mother, and you, were his. To never speak of a thing, is to curse it…one day the knowledge will reach someone who should never know. This is what happened to her.

When you study your Republic’s history, you will come to know of an attack on the world you were native to, Alderaan. The battle was led by a powerful Sith—Darth Malgus. I recognized him, because I was born an Imperial. He was stunning, and ruthless. So that you don’t wonder, it was not I, who revealed you and your mother. That is something I never learned.

The day you were born, fire rained from the skies. The mountains heaved and crumbled and the others that live on this world burrowed deep into the soil. Your mother was close to her birth time, and I worked to prepare.

When I returned with the herbs to make medicine for her pains, our home was reduced to little more than a crater. I hid in the rubble and watched. A Jedi had come for you and your mother. This Jedi was your father. She was relieved to see him, but would not leave until I returned. This mercy cost her everything.

The Sith Lord appeared from the shambles and challenged your father. They battled…I can’t even begin to know for how long. The world was burning around us. It could have been minutes or hours. I don’t know. The Sith Lord bested your father, and as he lay dying, the Sith sensed that your mother belonged to him. He ran her through, and left them to their deaths. I waited for the Lord to leave. I knew I couldn’t leave you inside your mother, lest death drag you down with her. I took you. Neither lived when you drew your first breath.

For all that you endured with such willful persistence, I named you Vitality, because even as death reached for you, you lived.

You lived.

~With respect,

A distant memory...~

The Jedi Master ran his hand over his chin and exhaled heavily. Slipping the letter back into it’s envelope, he leaned back in his chair. Truth was the domain of the Jedi, but what would this knowledge bring? This was not a decision for him alone. It was one for the council to make, when the time was right.