The Son: Chapter One

Ok, so this is a 'what if' story, so it WON'T FOLLOW CANON. AT ALL. SO DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT IT. SHIT HAS BEEN ALTERED TO FIT MY STORY. Also, I do not own Star Wars Rebels. Never have, probably never will.

She was running. Her son, barely two years old, was in her arms, unconscious from the sedative dart the Stormtrooper had shot him with. His father, her husband, was being loaded onto a prisoner transport, like she would have been if she hadn't managed to dodge the dart at the last second. She didn't know where to go, who to turn to for aid, but lying down and taking it was not on her agenda. The officer in charge had told them that, since their son registered positive for force-sensitivity, he would be sent to a Sith training facility. She refused to allow her son to become a brainwashed monster.

She heard the discharge of the rifle before she felt the round it shot tear through her side. She stumbled a bit before continuing to run, refusing to acknowledge how pointless her attempt to flee was. She turned a corner, charging down the small alley. She spotted a door barely beginning to shut, and ran as fast as she could to get through it, just making it through before it slid shut. The hangar, which was what the door led to, contained one ship, one droid, and four very surprised people. Hoping for them to be sympathetic to her plight, she began to plea.

"Please, save my son! The Empire wants to take him away and turn him into a Sith. I don't want my sweet Ezra to be a brainwashed monster! Please, save him…"

As her vision blurred, she realized that the one shot that hit her had torn through a large chunk of her right side, and combined with the adrenalin and movement, caused her to bleed out. She didn't feel herself fading because of the same adrenaline. Mira Bridger placed one last kiss upon her son's forehead before her eyes closed for the final time.