AN: Hello! This is also posted on Ao3 though I figured I'd post it here as well. For those that haven't read Dunkle's YA novel I highly suggest it! This fic will not be updated as consistently as "Uneasy" as it'll be secondary to the other fic, but I'm still rather excited about where this will take us.

I deliberated between using the Regency Period in which the book is set versus trying to adapt it to fit space but, apparently I'm too much of historical AU trash to do that.

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Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm and Disney, "The Hollow Kingdom" to Clare B. Dunkle.

Once there existed great users of strange magic. These wielders could shift and shape the 'Force' to their will. Some sought to use their mystical abilities for good and the protection of those that could not defend themselves. Others chose to seek personal gain and power at the expense of others. Factions formed through the centuries: Jedi and Sith. Jedi embraced the Light while suppressing negative emotions and attachments. The Sith basked in the Dark, letting hate and anger rule their every move.

Years of war reduced the population of Force users to a fraction of their once proud numbers. With their population weakened, civilians banded together to eradicate the Force users for good in retribution for the wars their kind had wrought upon humanity.

Those that remained hid their abilities to survive. Some retreated to secret dwellings while others chose to live among the general population. Force users that entered the world of 'muns', civilians, shirked their abilities in favor of normality. Those that lived in secrecy openly practiced their gifts in an effort to keep their dying culture aloft. Sith and Jedi were forced to work together for survival, creating the Gray.

Five hundred years passed and the Force users became nothing more than myths and legends.

Or so it was thought.

"Padmé , are you sure you don't want Darred to walk you home? It's getting dark and I want you to be safe."

"I'll be fine, Sola, really. If I cut through the field I'll halve the time it takes to get home," Padmé insisted as she twitched up the hood of her cloak. The young woman was nothing if not determined. Just entering her twenties, Padmé Naberrie was a force to be reckoned with. She was involved in many societies in town centered on bettering the lives of the people of Naboo. Her latest project involved petitioning the government for female suffrage, much to the chagrin of some of her elderly neighbors. "I'll tell mother that the new baby is doing well. As soon as her catarrh subsides she'll be here to see her newest granddaughter."

The elder sister couldn't help but smile at the idea of her mother meeting her latest little one. Unable to attend the birth due to sickness, Jobal sent Padmé in her stead to help her daughter through her second labor. After a week at her sister's side Padmé was preparing to return home.

"I just worry-" Sola began only to be cut off by a head shake from her sister.

"What could happen? I'll run across one of the Gray?" Padmé asked, a teasing twinkle in her eye.

Sola made a noise of derision as she followed her sister into the front yard of the modest farmhouse she and her husband owned. "Old Breha used to frighten us terribly, remember? I'm more than certain she believed every word of her tales," she recalled, tucking her shawl a bit tighter around her shoulders.

"The Gray are nothing more than myths," Padmé reminded her with a roll of her eyes.

"Those girls-"

"-ran away and disgraced their families," Padmé interrupted her sister's comment. Over the years a handful of neighboring young women disappeared, most likely having run off with lovers or deserted their families. Blaming the Gray was used as something of an euphemism. "Old Breha loved sherry even more than she loved her stories," she said with a chuckle. "I'm sure alcohol aided her in making her tales even more frightening to us as children." The widow in town often regaled children of the myth of the Gray and their antics. It was said that the leader of the Gray, their emperor, encouraged his subjects to take human girls to wife to diversify their dwindling population. It was nothing more than a story to frighten girls into staying indoors at night and not gallivanting at the tavern to protect their virtue. At least, that was what Padmé figured.

Sola laughed nervously with her sister, supposing she had a point. She enfolded her sister into her arms before letting her go. "Thank you for all your help, Padmé. I'll return the favor when it's your turn, I promise."

Padmé chuckled at the assurance. "I'll hold you to it," she teased as she turned down the path leading to the road. Sola waited at the door to the farmhouse till she could no longer spot her sister in the dimming light.

It was the last time anyone saw Padmé Naberrie.