#and as twisted as it is.. sidious is all he has left now. sidious and all of his anger and all of his terrible grief | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

obiwanobi · 3 years

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Catch me thinking about sith Anakin who got in a fight w/ Palps (did Palps cross a line? Did Anakin decide he had nothing to lose? Idk), barely managed to win and is now seriously hurting and a little freaked out winding up outside Obi-wan's quarters and Obi-wan doesn't have time to draw his saber let alone figure out how a sith lord managed to get so far into the jedi temple unnoticed and Force is that blood? before Anakin's passing out with only a murmered request for help.

LISTEN you can’t keep sending me perfect prompts, how do you know I can’t resist bloody men on their knees begging for salvation, how do you know me so well??? anyway here’s 2.3k of always-a-sith!Anakin who could have been the new ruler of the empire but said ‘no thanks, this is too much responsibility, I would like to be pampered by my favourite jedi now’ (with a bit of Ahsoka as Obi-Wan’s padawan!)

He didn’t mean to kill him.

Well, not at first.

He didn’t mean to kill Sidious, but pulling his lightsaber from his lifeless corpse only felt like complete satisfaction. A weight on his shoulders he didn't know he carried disappeared, letting him stand up above the body of his master— former master, and gaze upon what was left of him. A shapeless form on the ground. A dark cape around an old man playing at being a god. A begging mess of futile promises when he realised it was the end for him.

As mindless fury leaves him, his ragged breathing slows down and his fist unclenches around his saber. Sidious is dead. Now that the adrenaline rush is gone, his knees start shaking. His Master is dead. His face is wet with sweat and blood and tears. Dead and now Anakin has no one.

And then... And then fear.

"You know," Ahsoka groans as the water starts boiling, "I don't understand how you got your reputation of Cool Jedi Master. Other padawans think I'm lying when I tell them you wear the ugliest slippers at home and gets excited by new tisanes."

"You gifted me those slippers."

"As a joke. And you still wear them."

"I'm not going to throw away perfectly good slippers." Obi-Wan wiggles his toes under the red and yellow fuzzy monstrosities, just to see his padawan rolls her eyes. "And they're really comfortable."

"So you're just going to stay there, then? Your whole battalion is out celebrating our first day of leave since forever, but you prefer to drink your tea alone and go to bed at 22:00?"

"No one wants an authority figure around when they're letting loose and celebrating, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan says, pouring hot water in his cup. He raises the kettle towards his padawan as a question, to which she shakes her head. "I thought you would be happy to see me putting sleep before work for once."

"I am, Master, but I thought it could be..." She trails off, fidgeting with the hilt of her sabers. For once, she looks like a typical padawan, just like he was at her age, dying to enjoy one night away from the temple and any kind of responsibilities.

"It's alright my dear," he sighs, "you can join them if you want."

Ahsoka suddenly perks up. "I can?"

"If you're old enough to be sent to the front, I think you can handle yourself for one night on Coruscant."

"Thank you Master! I promise I'll be careful and not come back too late!"

"You do that, and-- wait, Ahsoka," he adds as she's already halfway through the door, "make sure to stay around Cody! And no alcohol of any kind! And don't lose your lightsaber at sabacc again!"

"That was you!" she yells from the end of the corridor, "don't worry, I'll be fine! Don't wait for me to go to bed! Goodnight Master!"

Obi-Wan smiles, blowing on his cup. He already sent a message to Cody earlier to keep an eye on her, so he knows she's in good hands.

He has his herbal tea, his ugly slippers, no reports to read or write, and no immediate Separatist menace to plan for. For once, a perfectly good night to catch up on sleep and meditation.

So, of course, something has to be wrong.

The Force is bright. The Force is lighter than it has ever been for the past few years.

And Obi-Wan can't understand why.

It's not just him that can feel it: Ahsoka has acted chipper since, more like the teenager she is, laughing with the clones and playfully teasing him the whole fly back to Coruscant. The temple has felt livelier than ever when they arrived, Jedi from all ages going about their day with a new spring in their step, greeting each other warmly in the corridors. Even Master Yoda has taken a few minutes during their Council meeting to note the shift in the Force. No Master could pinpoint the origin of this change, but all agreed that something good happened somewhere in the galaxy, and they were just feeling ripples of the effect in the Force.

Still now, the whole temple feels a bit more like it used to, before the war, and all Jedi are a bit happier without knowing why.

Only Obi-Wan feels like a noose tightening around him. Whatever it is, it's slowing making its way around his presence in the Force. Focusing on him and him alone. Doesn't matter how much Obi-Wan tries to hide himself, it's getting closer and never slowing down or losing interest.

Needless to say, Obi-Wan has a bad feeling about this.

But after almost three years of war, sullen faces and grim expressions, he doesn't feel like dampening the sudden good mood around the Temple just with a few words. He can probably deal with whatever it is by himself.

His tisane is cold when he finally emerges from his meditation. Nothing is clearer than when he started: the Force is deaf to his questions and inquiries, still light as a breeze. An airy unconcern for his restlessness. And yet, a thick pressure still looms around him, getting heavier each passing second now.

His fingers start pulling on his collar.

The clock on the wall indicates that he lied to Ahsoka when he said he was going to bed at a respectable time today. No diurnal Jedi would still be up right now, but he still considers going out to knock at Mace's door. Narrowed eyes and a very long sigh will be his first answer, but Obi-Wan knows that Mace would never refuse to hear him out. Yes, he finally decides when the pressure seems to creep even closer to him, it's worth waking up Mace.

He opens his door, wondering if he should take his robe with him, and instantly stops walking.

There, in the empty corridor of the Jedi Temple, at his door and on his knees, is a Sith. He knows it's a Sith only because he recognises this specific mass of hair, the large shoulders, the dishevelled dark robe. He knows it's a Sith because he has crossed path with this one enough times on the battlefield to recognise him anywhere. Outside of it a few times too. He isn't sure it's a Sith when the Sith raises his head up, bloody and bruised face torn in an agonizing expression, and his eyes are blue.

"I— I didn't know where to go," Darth Vader says quietly, with the kind of voice expected from a lost child. It gives Obi-Wan a second shock to hear his voice, making his presence suddenly real. "You said... You said if I ever wanted to, if I needed help one day, you would— I could—"

Obi-Wan remembers it. He remembers all the times he offered his help. His pleas for him to stop the violence, the appeals to reason, the multiple suggestions of a gentler path. His hand continuously outreached but never taken. He remembers the burning gold of the Sith's eyes too, and his black cape floating above the dead clones at his feet.

His laughter the first time Obi-Wan brought up the idea of lowering their blades and talking around a cup of tea. His sneer the third time Obi-Wan tried to change his misconceptions about the Jedi Order and play-flirt with him in the same breath. The silence the fifth time Obi-Wan asked him his name, his real name, the one a parent gave him.

The tears the last time he gave it to him.

"And you're always trying to save me," Vader adds more forcefully now, like the words anger him, "you're always here, showing up almost every time I'm sent somewhere with your stupid smile and stupid words, and you're always nice, and... and teasing, and disappointed when I kill someone, like you expect me to be better, and I don't understand you, but..."

Vader raises his hand towards him, and it's only this sudden move that shakes Obi-Wan out of his stupor. Before the Sith can touch his leg, Obi-Wan calls his lightsaber to him, ignites it in one fluid motion, half-expecting Vader to be up and swaying his saber in his face by now. But the Sith is still on his knees, and it's only now that the blue light of his blade is above him that Obi-Wan realises the state he's in. His face isn't the only thing bruised and battered: his dark tunic is stained with blood and ripped in more than one place, one of his arms is bent in an unnatural way, and it looks like a cut above his hairline is still bleeding, making his curls stick to his face in a mess of wet hair and burned skin.

"Vader," Obi-Wan says slowly, when his thoughts finally regain a semblance of coherence. A rapid investigation through the Force assures him that no other enemy is around and the calm and quiet of the night in the Temple isn't a prequel for a storm. "How did you get in here? What are you doing here? How—"

Vader's hand, stuck in the space between them, reaches once again for Obi-Wan. Foolishly, Obi-Wan lets him. His fingers twist themselves in the fabric of his pants.

"He made me killed them all.” Vader wobbles on his knees for a second, the hand on Obi-Wan's leg gripping it tighter. “No platoons, no battle droids. Just me. He sent me to the power station and I cut through them so easily, so quickly, they didn't even fight back, and I didn't think that..." he trails off, panting. "Until.... until I saw the electro-whips."

"Are you talking about Naphtla?" he asks when Vader doesn't seem to be able to continue.

Naphtla. Outer Rim. Barely on the Republic radar until this afternoon, when nearby troops answered a distress signal and found a hidden Separatist power station operated by slaves. A third of them were dead, killed only a few hours before, and the survivors turned to the Republic for immediate support. Slaughtered like animals, the rescue team reported to the Council only a few hours ago, by one single man wielding a red lightsaber. According to witnesses, the darksider cut through the slaves like bantha butter, killing everyone in his path without discrimination, until he stopped for no apparent reason and abruptly left.

"You were the one who killed the people at the station there," Obi-Wan realises out loud, horrified, "the slaves from Zygerria."

Vader snaps his head up and his fingers tighten painfully around Obi-Wan's knee. "I DIDN'T KNOW!"

All Obi-Wan's senses and logical thoughts urge him to back out, put an end to this nonsensical charade, raise his lightsaber between them, get away from the dark, hungry void Vader generates in the Force.

But his eyes are looking up to him. Gripping his gaze with the same intensity as his hand on his leg. Bloodied face and pleading, on his knees. Full of tears.

Obi-Wan doesn't push Vader's hand away.

"I didn't know they were slaves, I didn't!"

"Vader."

"He never said! He sent me without telling him, he knows I don't—" A small noise sounding suspiciously like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

"Vader, who sent—"

"When I came back," he tries again, quieter. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to ask about this he, but Vader's head lolls for a second, too heavy to support, before butting gently against Obi-Wan's leg. Vader makes no effort to move, content to stay there, and after a second, a small, almost timid nuzzle against his thigh sends a series of shivers through Obi-Wan's spine. It shuts him up instantly. "When I came back, he looked at me for so, so long, before saying that he knew, he knew I was going to fail, that I was... just like them after all, and that I could never... And I was so mad, so angry at him, so I... I..."

The last words are muffled by the fabric Vader clings to. Hides into. There's blood on Obi-Wan's pants now.

"What have you done, Vader?" Obi-Wan asks, softer than he intended. "Vader," he asks again when no reply comes, without success. The hand not holding his lightsaber moves, hesitates for a moment, then settles lightly on Vader's hair, mindful not to touch any open wounds. His fingers nudge him to tip his head back, gently, carefully, and settle on his cheek to hold his face up, looking at him. "Anakin." His name, his true name, makes him blink a few times. "Anakin, what have you done?"

"I killed him," he finally admits, barely audible. He looks exhausted, more like a child in need of rest than ever.

"Who did you kill?"

"My master."

"Dooku? You killed Dooku?"

"No," Vader— Anakin frowns, like Obi-Wan should know better. "Sidious."

It's a bit much to process in one day. Another Sith Lord, Vader's master, concealed and kept a secret, now dead, killed by his apprentice —and does that make Vader the ruling Sith Lord now? Do Sith have rulers?— the lightness in the Force the same day, a half-dead Vader begging for help in the middle of the night in the Jedi Temple, and all of that while Obi-Wan is still wearing his ugly slippers.

He's so glad he sent Ahsoka away for the night.

Anakin doesn't let him time to feel the migraine coming.

"I can't do it, I can't be my master, I can't— and Dooku hates me, he will never help me, even if I let him have it all, he will never..." Vader seems to run out of steam, and lets his eyes close as his head falls once again against Obi-Wan's thigh. Closer. "You said you could help me. You said I could come to you at any time. You said you would always be there if I didn't want to... do this, anymore."

"I did," Obi-Wan assures him, his hand lightly petting his hair again.

Anakin lets out a long breath. His fingers tighten on the fabric of Obi-Wan's pants, loosen, and tighten again.

"You're the only one I trust," the Sith quietly tells the Jedi, and it's the saddest thing Obi-Wan has ever heard.

#appleslakesandeuchre #(I changed the end of your prompt a bit I hope it’s fine with you)#asks #obikin #clem's aus #fic i will never write #always a sith anakin au #ahsoka the next morning is HORRIFIED to find a sith on the couch #like 'I knew you had a huge soft spot for him but really master? REALLY?'#obi-wan 'shh don't raise your voice at him'#fic i did write

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years

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A/N: So. I wrote Anakin. Honestly the man has been living rent free in my mind for so long and we all know what I’m like for an angry angsty Star Wars boy. I am suffering with Imposter Syndrome massively with this because I don’t think I got his character down 100%. And well, I am a perfectionist. Anyway, here have this dumpster fire of a one shot.

Anakin Skywalker x Sith!Reader

Warnings: Canon violence, character death, lots of a Jedi hate talk. Damn fucking Jedi. Oh and a shit ton of angst.

Word Count: 1909

Your black robes fluttered around your legs as you peered over the ledge, a Jedi ship had come into land and you let a sly smile creep across your face. It was the Jedi you wanted, you could feel the ripples of his power through the force, the anger and darkness always with him even if he didn’t use them. You moved away and headed deeper into the compound, he was coming to stop you, take you back to the Jedi Council. You felt the presence of the 501st as they spread out looking for you but their force signatures were dulled by the brightness of him. Already the anticipation of battle thrummed through your body, the hilts of your sabers melded perfectly to the curve of your palms. Pulling down the visor on your mask you paced feeling him coming closer and closer until finally the door opened and there he stood in his black Jedi robes.

“I assumed you’d got lost,” you shot at him.

“I could sense your loathsome presence as soon as I landed,” he replied haughtily. You carried on pacing, seeing his saber still attached to his belt, the sure arrogance he had in his abilities made you proud. He was always such a cocky bastard but he had every right to be.

“What happens now, Skywalker? You think I will go quietly so you can hand me over to the traitors of the Galaxy?”

“The Jedi are not the traitors here!” He roared.

“Yes they are! And you know it!” His eyes followed you, across the floor, his expression darkening. “How can you not see their narrow minded ideas are strangling the Galaxy? They sit in their temple, allowing this war to continue all the while saying they don’t advocate it. They are apparently keepers of the peace and yet shattering it time and time again!”

“No! I will not listen to your lies!” You lifted your chin in defiance.

“Then come and shut me up,” your voice sneered through the vocoder. He moved quickly and your sabers came alive in your hands, the loud clash of the beams sent sparks over your heads. “The Jedi are a lie, their only legacy is failure…” you continued.

“No!” The force push hit you in the chest and a laugh burst from your chest as you slammed into the wall.

“Yes! Use that rage on me, Anakin.”

“You don’t want me to fight you,” he threatened, making you grin behind the mask.

“Oh baby, I’m counting on it.” You ducked as his blue lightsaber pierced the wall, you took the opening, punching him in the stomach making him grunt in surprise and retreat, before coming at you again. The sabers danced in a pattern that was all too familiar. You met each other move for move, nothing survived the brightness of your blades as you both cleaved a path of destruction. You spun out of his reach, putting some debris between you knowing it wasn’t much of a barrier, not when it came to you and Anakin. “They are oppressing you Anakin! They will never set you free to accomplish your true potential! They do not see the power you possess.”

“And you do?” He asked aggressively, pointing his saber at your chest as he roamed across the floor.

“I have always seen you.” He frowned and you sensed his confusion at your words. Retracting your blades you removed your mask letting it fall to the floor with a thud. “They told you I was dead didn't they?” You asked softly. The brightness of his own blade diminished followed by the ripples of surprise and crushing sadness but he stayed where he was. “More lies,” you pointed out.

“I don’t understand, Obi-Wan…”

“Obi-Wan misled you. He didn’t want to tell you the truth in case you came looking for me,” you spread your arms. “But the force guided you back to me anyway.” He whispered your name like it physically pained him, taking a step back as you stepped forward. “Change is coming, the end of an era giving way to the dawn of the Empire.”

“No, stop!” He cried.

“Join me Anakin….we can make the Galaxy a better place.” You backed him against the wall, his blue eyes closing as though he could stop himself from seeing you. “I know the pain you bear,” you whispered leaning into him. “I can help you face it, use it.”

“It is not the Jedi way, I will not fall for this!” You turned away from him growling with frustration.

“Stop being so blind! How do you refuse to see through the veil of deceit they have draped over us?” You screamed.

“How do you refuse to see the good! Has the touch of the light left you that much in the dark?” It hurt you, seeing him like this, sensing his pain and torment but it was necessary. If you could get Anakin onside the war would be won and you would be Darth Sidious’ prize apprentice. Turning the Chosen one was a task only you could accomplish, because out of all the people in the Galaxy, you were the one Anakin would not bring himself to destroy.

“Where do we go from here?” You asked him, watching as his chest heaved in distress.

“You will come with me, maybe the Jedi can help you…” you tutted in annoyance at his words.

“What a ridiculous notion! The Jedi can’t even help themselves let alone anyone else. Look at Ahsoka…” his blade roared to life in his hands as he flew at you, clashing against your red blades.

“You will leave Ahsoka out of this!” He snarled.

“But she is a part of this, we are all a part of this story that the Jedi have written,” you shouted over the crackling of your blades as he forced you back. The blades scissored out and his face grew close enough so you could feel his breath on your face. “You know I speak the truth Anakin, it’s why it upsets you so much.”

“No!” The air was pushed from your body and you fell backwards, your sabers falling from your grasp and skitting across the floor. You looked up into the light of the blue blade, seeing him standing over you with that twisted look on his face. The light of it shone in his tear filled eyes and you waited with bated breath. “I trusted you! Why didn’t you come and find me?” He shouted.

“What good would it have done? Would you have helped me like you helped her?” His saber lowered, but it didn’t go out and you chose a different tactic. “They asked you to spy on the Chancellor didn’t they?” He frowned, not hiding the shock he felt at your words. “I have my sources,” you spoke before he could question where you got the information. “Did that feel right to you? Is that a Just course of action for the Jedi to take?”

“I don’t…” you stood up slowly keeping eye contact.

“Use your brain Anakin!”

“I am!” He yelled turning away, his hand held out to you as though he wanted to stop you advancing.

“Anakin,” you whispered. “Just embrace the darkness.” His body slumped and you felt the streams rushing past you as he accepted the pain and anger inside him. You laughed, opening your arms at the vortex created by the force, it swirled around him, welcoming him. “You will not regret this Anakin! He will reward you beyond your wildest dreams!” You retrieved your sabers off the floor, snapping them to your belt before picking up your mask. When you turned Anakin was right behind you, his piercing eyes staring straight through you.

“What do we do now?” He asked and you hesitated slightly, sensing something still had to be unlocked within him but you didn’t know what. It wasn’t your place, you weren’t his master. You were his equal.

“I will take you to my master. He will know what to do.” You began to walk off but his hand snatched at your arm.

“What did he tell you about the rules of the Sith?”

“Enough,” you responded. “We could overthrow him,” you suggested with a smirk. Anakin released your arm and you relaxed slightly. “We were always such a team, unbeatable even on the side of the light, imagine what we could accomplish with an entire Galaxy at our fingertips?”

“I missed you,” he whispered and you took a step towards him. You leaned your forehead against his temple finally allowing your feelings to come to the forefront. Anakin had been everything to you, it had killed you to leave him behind but Sidious had promised you happiness in the end and now here you are achieving that. Your hand sought his own out, his fingers clammy as he gripped you tightly.

“And I missed you,” you breathed against his skin. His face shifted, his nose pressing against your cheek and your heart pounded at finally being reunited with the one person you wanted in the entire Galaxy. “The Clones are coming,” you murmured.

“I can sense them,” he replied, still not moving away from you. His expression was one of torture and you swept a strand of hair gently off his brow.

“What’s wrong?” You asked softly.

“There is….something I need to do.”

“Can I help?” You whispered, brushing your lips against his cheek.

“Yes.” He shifted, your chests pressing together as he finally kissed you. His lips were soft and lingering making you melt into him so you were unprepared for the burning sensation in your side. Your mouth opened against his in a loud gasp of surprise, his tears glinted in the glowing blue light of his saber as it protruded from your body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. You couldn’t speak, your body refused to take a breath and you could see the darkside emitting from his irises as he gazed mournfully at you. “My master sent me to find you.” He sobbed when you slumped against him, not able to hold your weight anymore, the smell of your own burning flesh making you feel sick. His blade retracted but still the pain remained, the sting of betrayal coupled with the hurt of your life ending by the hand you trusted the most.

He followed you to the ground, your legs folding like they had no bones left in them as numbness spread through your body. “I will see peace and justice reign in the new Empire.” Your eyes widened, the only response you were able to give as the life slowly ebbed away from you. “I will never forget you.” You wanted to ask why, he had been genuinely surprised to see you under the mask and then you realised you’d both been played. Only the strongest would come out of this room alive, but you had been blinded. Tricked by your own feelings that maybe, just maybe he would have joined you rather than burying you in his quest for power. His hand cradled your head, his tears pattering onto your skin, mingling with the lone tear that ran from the corner of your own eye. We could have done this together, Anakin….

“It never would have worked. I’m saving you.” He replied as your world grew darker. “You were the one war I could never win….until now.”

#please don’t hate me #star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x sith!reader #sith!reader #angst #I’m sorry #don’t come at me #this is my first time writing Anakin

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sonoftatooine · 3 years

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Whumpay 2021

DAY 12: ALT DAY - NOT BELIEVED

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Sheev Palpatine

Summary: Instead of being accepted into the Jedi Order after the Battle of Naboo, Anakin is rejected by the Council and given to Palpatine as an adopted son. Three years later, he reveals to Anakin that he is a Sith and that he will be his apprentice. Horrified, Anakin escapes from under his master’s watchful eye and runs away to tell the Jedi the truth.

***

“Master Kenobi, please!,” Anakin cried, twisting the long, voluminous sleeves of the Naboo robes his adoptive father had gifted him tightly in his hands, staring up at the Jedi Knight before him through messy blond curls disarrayed from his dash to the Temple. “Please don't send me back to him! I'll do anything! You don't have to make me a Jedi, just don't make me go back—”

“Young Skywalker,” Mace Windu interrupted him before the knight in question could reply. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, with a look of intense irritation on his face that had worsened and worsened ever since Anakin had given Palpatine's guards the slip and run to the Temple to tell the Jedi of the terrible truth he had discovered about the man who had taken him in after his rejection by the Order. “Your father is worried about you. Do not make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

It wouldn't be difficult if you would just believe me, Anakin wanted to shout. Of all the problems he had imagined—being caught, being unable to escape his minders, getting to the Temple from Palpatine's apartment in 500 Republica undetected—it somehow hadn't occurred to him that the Jedi might not listen to him. But if Palpatine had proved anything in the months after he revealed that he was a Sith Lord intent on reshaping the Galaxy to his will and that he, Anakin, would be his apprentice—whether he wished it or not—it was that he was cunning and manipulative in a way that Anakin was not, with a watchful eye that was extremely difficult to escape from under. The Senate guards had informed him of his adoptive son's disappearance not long after he had left, and he had acted quickly to mitigate any damage Anakin might do in his escape. As such, by the time he ran into Obi-Wan and Windu at the entrance to the Temple, instead of being listened to and believed , he had been pulled into an empty conference room, his warnings lost beneath stern lectures about running away on his own and the severity of telling lies about his father. Palpatine had contacted the Jedi before he arrived, it seemed, and spun them a web of lies—lies about him being a troubled child who made up fantasies to deal with his past—that they had readily soaked up like a sponge. Twelve is a difficult age, he had probably said, in those kindly tones that everyone swallowed hook, line and sinker. And Anakin can be a difficult child. He feels the need to push back against my authority, and so of course he sees me as a villain. In truth, Master Jedi, I fear he has never really recovered from your rejection of him. Perhaps these...fantasies are a way of proving his worth to you. Whatever it had been, neither Obi-Wan nor Master Windu doubted it, and no matter what he said, it only earned him more disbelief from the two of them.

“He's not my father!,” he exclaimed in anger and frustration. Palpatine wasn't his father. He was his master, his owner. His mother's owner. He had only taken them in so that he could use him, possess him, make it so that he would have no choice but to follow the plans he had for him—bend to his will and his alone. No matter how kind he had seemed at first—and he had seemed kind to Anakin in the beginning, despite the monster that he was—his true colours showed it to be nothing but an act. “He's evil!”

The two Jedi, exchanged a glance, one exasperated, one pained. Then, Obi-Wan turned back to him, sighing sadly.

“Anakin, I know this is hard for you, but Chancellor Palpatine only wants what's best for you,” he said. “He took you in, freed your mother from slavery. He cares for you, and he was clearly very worried for you when he found you missing.”

“Only because he doesn't want me to tell you the truth!,” Anakin shot back. Palpatine didn't care for him, nor for his mother, nor for anyone but himself. He may have taken them away from Tatooine—a small, bitter part of him that seemed to be growing bigger and bigger with each day that he spent under the old Sith's thumb, like a speck of rot at the heart of a shurra fruit, hissed that it was more than the Jedi had ever done for them—but it was not freedom. It had been nothing more than a transaction—passing them from one master to another. A master that the Jedi had given him to without a second thought. Tears sprang to his eyes. “Why won't you believe me?!”

He didn't know why it hurt so much. Why he had placed so much faith in a group of people who had been ready to cast him off like a desperate droid once they had deemed him to old and too dangerous for them, and whose sole attempt to help had landed in him in a situation that almost made him think of his life on Tatooine with longing. But despite that bitter part of him that his master had taken great pains to nurture in him, the part which remembered his innocent hope upon seeing Qui-Gon Jinn's lightsaber clipped to his hip at Jira's stall—that still thought of the Jedi as the heroes the legends spoke of—had felt, somehow, that if he could just tell them the truth, that if the Jedi knew, it would all be alright. Their refusal to believe him was a crushing blow.

“Anakin—” Obi-Wan said. He sounded pained. Anakin didn't want him to be pained, but he also wanted to be understood and believed. He needed Obi-Wan to help him and he wouldn't— Why wouldn't he—?

“He's a Sith!,” he exclaimed, his voice shaking from anger and frustrated tears. “He's the reason Padmé's planet was attacked! He's the reason Qui-Gon's dead!”

“Skywalker!” Master Windu barked sharply.

Obi-Wan had gone very white, his eyes wide and shocked, and Anakin knew he had gone too far. But it was true. Even if he didn't want to hear it, it was true, and he needed him to believe it, because if he didn't, Palpatine would punish him and his mother and then the Sith would continue on with his plan until it was too late and the Galaxy would be enslaved to him and the Jedi would be dead. He opened his mouth to continue but—

“That is quite enough, Anakin.”

Anakin froze at the sound of the familiar voice. It was the kindly Chancellor Palpatine voice rather than the foul croak of Darth Sidious, but it made Anakin shrink away and hide behind Obi-Wan's billowing robes all the same. From behind the Jedi Knight, he saw Palpatine come down the steps to the conference room from where he had been standing in the doorway, flanked by two senate guards, and adorned with his black and red robes of state and an expression of mingled displeasure and concern that he might have been convinced by had he not known the truth. But he did know the truth, and he could see the rage glinting in the Sith's eyes behind the benign veneer that had so fooled everyone else.

“Your Excellency” Windu said with a brusque nod of greeting. He couldn't see it, wouldn't see it—the evil behind the mask. Why couldn't any of them see it?

“My apologies, Master Jedi,” Palpatine said with a regretful sigh as false as his concern. Anakin knew well enough by now that Sidious would never apologise to a Jedi and mean it. “I knew this was a problem, but I had no idea—”

He cut himself off, turning sharply away and pinching the bridge of his nose. Taking in a deep breath, he lowered his hand and turned his attention back towards Anakin. He looked worried and tired, the very picture of a concerned and overworked father struggling to deal with an unruly son's latest stunt.

“What in the Galaxy were you thinking, Anakin?!,” he cried. “Running off like that? Anything could have happened to you!”

It couldn't be worse than anything you want to do to me, Anakin thought bitterly. He shrank further behind Obi-Wan, one small hand clutching tight at the back of his cloak. Obi-Wan glanced down at him, a small frown on his face, and despite his refusal to believe, Anakin felt a sliver of worry slip through the man's shields.

“I really am very sorry about this,” Palpatine said, his attention turned back towards the Jedi. He had drawn back when Anakin shrunk away from him, mindful to maintain his carefully cultivated persona—the pained father who only what was best for his son even as said son was convinced that he was the ultimate evil in the Galaxy. The smile he sent Master Windu was tinged with melancholy, even as he plotted Anakin's punishment for trying to expose him, even as he plotted the man's death and that of the entire Jedi Order. He hated him. Hated him. Hated him with the strength of a thousand suns— “I had best take him home. I'm sure he has troubled you enough already.”

No. No, he couldn't go back. He couldn't go back there. His master would be furious with him. He would hurt him. Punish him. He would hurt and punish his mother. He couldn't go back, couldn't let him— He needed the Jedi to believe him and then they could rescue her and it would all be alright. It had to be. It had to be— A gentle hand came to rest atop his head, suddenly stilling his wild thoughts. It was Obi-Wan's hand, he realised. Obi-Wan, who had made no move to send him off towards his adoptive father. Whose frown had not left his face since Palpatine arrived.

“Anakin is no trouble at all, Your Excellency” he replied. There was a hint of reprimand in his tone.

Palpatine smiled thinly.

“Of course,” he said, holding out a gnarled hand in Anakin's direction. “Come, my boy. We have taken up enough of the Jedi's time.”

Anakin did not move. He didn't want to go, couldn't go, not after what he'd done. He wanted to stay here with Obi-Wan. Palpatine would be watching him as intently as a bonegnawer did its prey, after this—it may be his only chance to get help, to find someone who would believe him and save them. No, he wouldn't go. He wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't—

There was a long pause where nobody spoke and nobody moved, and then Palpatine's face hardened.

“Come along, Anakin” he repeated. His voice was stern this time, though to the untrained ear, it did not sound unkind. Anakin, however, could hear the warning beneath the act loud and clear.

If you do not come with me right now, a cruel, croaking voice hissed inside his head through their bond, I will visit such pain upon your mother that she will be left with nothing but a half-life and a tattered soul. You think the Jedi will protect you, save her? They will do nothing, as they have always done, and your mother will curse your name for inviting such suffering upon her.

Anakin trembled. He wanted to cry. He had been so close, so close. Obi-Wan was still frowning, but he made no move to intervene, to give him an excuse to stay. Swallowing thickly, he pulled away, balling his shaking hands into fists beneath his sleeves, and headed slowly over towards his master. Palpatine's hand came to rest in-between his shoulder blades, arm blocking his route back to the Jedi like the door of a cage swinging shut.

“Thank you once again, Master Jedi,” Palpatine said, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “We shan't impose upon you any longer.”

Come, boy, the voice hissed in his head again. Do not try my patience any further, unless you wish for a worse punishment than you've already earned. The pressure of the hand between his shoulder blades increased in warning, and Anakin had no choice but to follow along where his master led. Just as they reached the door, however, he turned, glancing back to catch Obi-Wan's eye. The frown was still on his brow, and as he met his gaze, Anakin couldn't help but imagine that there was something a little suspicious, a little unsettled in the expression on his face.

Well, Anakin thought as he was led away, perhaps there is some hope after all.

#star wars #star wars prequels #star wars au #star wars fic #fic #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #mace windu #sheev palpatine #anakin & obi wan #anakin & palpatine #young anakin skywalker #raised as a sith anakin #sort of #mine #my fic #whumpay #whumpay2021 #sfw

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years

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(Clone Wars/Rebels) Rebels!Rex x Reader: Hope

(Author’s Note: Sooo this is a neat request I got! I REALLY hope you don’t mind that I tweaked it a tad!!!! And I hope you like it!!!! Highkey this almost had me crying at the end, oh my. It’s tough for me to write Rebels era Rex because in my mind he’s forever young ;^; But I really did enjoy this request, and thank you!

OG Request: What about a Rebels Rex x reader reunion where the reader died during order 66, but became a ghost. So she sticks with Kanan and the ghost crew, when they get Rex back she stays invisible so that he can't see her because she thinks that he moved on. Something happens and he sees her, she hides and he has to hunt her down and convince her that they could make it work.)

“_________,” Kanan said gently. He stood at the doorway to your quarters, eyes full of concern. “I know this is hard for you. Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do, but...you can’t hide forever. The others are worried about you.” You materialized in the middle of the room, eyes downcast and arms wrapped around your form in an attempt for comfort. Kanan stepped inside the room, allowing the door to slide shut behind him. “The clones took everything from us. They betrayed the jedi and killed so many…” The bridge of his nose crinkled as the rest of his face twisted with pain at the memories. Bitterness came off him in waves.

“Kanan, you misunderstand,” you whispered, walking over to take a seat at the edge of your bunk. “That’s not why I’m hesitant to reveal myself to the men who we’ve teamed up with. The truth is...I don’t entirely blame them.”

“What?” he asked in disbelief. “How could you not?”

“Remember, Kanan, I was a jedi knight when Order 66 went through. You only remember part of the story because you were so young. The men were under Sidious’ control. We can’t hold that against them.”

He folded his arms, as if his point still stood. “Then why are you hiding?”

At that, your eyes returned to the floor. “Because I know those men. I knew Captain Rex quite well back in the day.”

Kanan’s eyes widened. “You mean…”

“I know. It was against my code and his regulations, but we were together. I...I loved him. I was off on another mission when Order 66 was given. The troops I was working with fired at me, and that’s when the accident happened.”

“The accident that left you a ghost. But it wasn’t an accident, _________. Your soldiers betrayed you and shot at the energy field behind you. They-”

You sighed. “Kanan, I’m not a force ghost.” When he gave you a skeptical look, you continued, “I can walk through walls and vanis, but think about it. Have you ever seen a ghost stick around this long? Or actually have the ability to materialize a physical form like I do?”

“Can’t say I’ve had too many encounters with them in the first place,” he mumbled.

“The accident turned my body into energy. They didn’t take my life.”

“__________.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “That doesn’t excuse what they did, and I don’t blame you for not wanting to face them.”

“Rex didn’t do this to me anyway. He’s a good man, and I never stopped loving him. I just don’t want him to see me this way. He has probably been moved on for some time now, and he’s going to be upset.”

“He should.”

“Kanan!” you scolded. “That’s enough. I get that you’re still hurting. I understand. Really, I do. I just don’t need to hear this right now.”

He released a sigh, resting a hand on your shoulder. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Just then, the door to your quarters slid open. You vanished on instinct, but it appeared that you hadn’t gone quickly enough. A familiar pair of eyes stared wide at the spot you had previously sat beside Kanan. Though you recognized them instantly, they belonged to an aged face.

“___________? I knew it. It is you.”

Kanan glanced around awkwardly while you remained invisible. “Um…”

“I thought I saw ___________ earlier. I thought that maybe it was just all in my head, but she’s here, isn’t she?”

“Look, Rex…”

“Please,” Rex pleaded. “Please tell me where I can find her. I never knew what happened to her after the Republic fell. I know you don’t like me but-”

“I’m right here,” you said, materializing. Rex’s eyes widened and mouth fell open. “I didn’t want you to see me this way.”

“___________, what happened to you?”

The sympathy and in his voice caused you to feel a familiar ache in your chest. It was overwhelming. For years you had wondered, just as he did, what happened. For years you tried to come to terms with never seeing him again. But there he was standing in front of you. In fact, he was walking over.

“Wait,” you said quickly. “I...I can’t.” You vanished again, this time hearing him call out,

“No!” You hurried past him and ran straight through the closed door. You heard him on the other side. “I’m going to find her.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“___________,” you heard Rex’s voice pant. “There you are.”

“Rex, I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it.” A strained groan escaped his lips as he lowered himself to sit beside you. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

You hugged your knees to your chest as you gazed out at the setting sun from the roof of the ship. The sky glowed a variety of lovely colors; orange, pink, and even a little purple. For the first time since seeing Rex again, you felt at peace. Sitting beside him felt normal even after all that time. “What do you mean?”

“After Order 66 was given, I had quite the adventure. Ahsoka helped me get the chip out of my head so that I would no longer carry out the order.” He sighed. “I looked everywhere for you after that. Even some of my brothers told me that the worst may have happened, but I always had hope. I never stopped looking. I never stopped- I never stopped loving you.”

“Rex,” you whispered. “What we had was great, but it was a long time ago. So much has changed since then. We were young, and we had no idea what the galaxy would become.”

“What are you talking about?” He gave a hearty laugh. “We’re still young, and there’s a new hope.”

You looked over at him, meeting those eyes that held so much warmth in them. Even with the crinkles around his eyes and the white beard, in your eyes he was the same Rex you knew back then. Memories began to flash across your mind like a holovid playing in front of you. Memories of stolen glances across the strategy meetings and debriefings, secret kisses when no one was looking, and many battles fought side-by-side.

“What happened to the serious captain I knew?” you smiled.

“He lightened up a bit.” Rex chuckled. You ventured to reach out a hand to rest its palm on his cheek, and he instinctively relaxed into the touch, closing his eyes and exhaling. “__________, do you still love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then we can make this work. Like I said, I don’t want to lose you again. Ever.” He reached up to gently place his hand over yours, opening his eyes to gaze at you with determination. Your breath caught in your throat.

“A-alright.”

His eyes glinted then, the same way they used to when you’d look at him from across a briefing, and he leaned in to wrap his arm around your form and pull you against him. He tipped your chin up and captured your lips in a kiss. You giggled, and he pulled away. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just,” you giggled again, tears spilling from your eyes. “The beard. It tickles.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, leaning in to playfully swipe his beard across your cheek, sending you into a fit of giggles as you tried to break free from his embrace. Then, he let you catch your breath. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You pressed a kiss to his hand. “And you’re right. There is hope.”

#captain rex x reader #star wars rebels #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars captain rex #clone wars captain rex #rebels rex #rebels!rex x reader #rebels rex x reader #star wars rebels captain rex #rebels captain rex x reader #captain rex imagine #rebels rex imagine #rebels reader insert #clone wars reader insert

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metataxy · 2 years

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Darth Maul, post-Order 66 fanfic - Seventh Sister Joins the Dathomiri Witches

Some more concept writing with the ‘Darth Maul accidentally adopts Seventh Sister after Order 66′ idea :D

Maul trains Seventh Sister (’Metanë’) as a Sith Apprentice up to the age of 14, at which point she Does Something (tries to kill him? Sabotages his plans? Develops an inconvenient conscience?) and he has to get rid of her for awhile. He does this by stranding her in the Dathomiri wilderness.

Then, he runs off to Malachor and gets stranded there, as in canon, for four or five years. Since he met Ezra as a baby and formed a bond with the kid, he feels Ezra’s grief when his parents die. Soon as he gets off planet, he heads to Lothal and grabs an 11 year old Ezra off the streets, then tries to retrieve a wayward Seventh Sister from Dathomir.

He didn’t expect she might not want to leave... :D

Warnings: Seventh Sister has a Harem, but like, they’re all very enthusiastic about it; swearing; internalized racism (on Maul’s part)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Nightsister turned, and Maul fell silent.

The woman was cadaverously slender as every young Nightsister, but so small, the top of her head barely touched the chest of the hulking pair of brothers who guarded her. She wore a loose black robe over the same skintight red leathers donned by the other women, though the latter clashed terribly with her chartreuse skin. Her abundance of dark hair had been plaited back from her face, the better to display her tattoos. A line of slender diamonds had been inked between her brows to the end of her nose, in a very familiar blaze. The same shapes had been drawn around and from the corners of her eyes. He knew the pattern he’d find under her gloves like the back of his hand.

“Apprentice,” he stepped forward. The brothers crossed their pikes to bar his way. He bared his teeth at them in warning, but she sidled forward, brushing the weapons aside with a touch to one man’s bicep.

“Easy, old man,” she mocked. “No need to butcher my mates.”

“Your… mates?” His lip twisted in distaste, and the men behind Metane huffed. Both of them, he realized irately, wore fine pants, snug in the groin and loose about the legs, but no shirts— traditional clothing for a Dathomiri man whose witch appreciated their appearance, and was inclined to let others do the same.

Metane smiled, hand straying behind her to slip along the prominent abdominals of the brother to her left. “Yes,” she said, satisfied, her Force presence now creeping out between them, thick and cloying as a Dathomiri fog. “My mates.”

“You’ve gone native.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “As my envoys told you.” She took a second look. “Wait, you’re actually surprised.” She laughed, short and sharp and disbelieving. “Old Master, you literally stranded me in the middle of nowhere on Dathomir. I was there for three years and spent the better part of two of those years dragging myself through the wilds to some place that was actually inhabited. Another year finding a Mother who had offplanet communications and was willing to let a healthy young Witch slip through her fingers. What were your intentions?”

He wasn’t going to answer that. “So you made yourself a harem?” he sneered.

She stretched languorously, with the fluidity of motion common to all Mirialans, and her… men, Maul supposed, tracked the movement from under their lashes. “It’s two mates,” she mused. “Hardly a harem. Besides, they’re together, and it would have been cruel to take one without the other. Though with how few women Sidious left our Clan, I’m sure the unmated men would be very enthusiastic if I offered to take more under me,” she insinuated.

Maul tensed in disgust.

“I trained you to be a Sith,” he began lowly, throat tight. “To take down the people who killed your parents. To destroy and raise empires. And now,” his voice rose, irate, “you mean to waste your time screwing illiterate barbarians in a backwater village, hunting wildlife and whelping children?”

She slapped him.

She slapped him, and he didn’t realize it had happened until his cheek stung and she had stepped back, into the place her illusion had never left.

“That’s your village,” she hissed, all coyness gone. She gestured to her men. “That’s your people. My people. And we’re not illiterate, because unlike you, some of us didn’t waste all our time trying to kill a ghost, or looking for magic artifacts to solve all our problems. This is how you raise an Empire, Master,” she snapped. “You raise children.”

“Oh, and you’re going to carve yourself out some rustic state in the wilds of Dathomir then, are you?” he sneered. “Going to have the petty chieftains kowtow to you in the muck of the bogs, and accept their tribute of bones and bronze?”

“For fuck’s sake, you’ve been away forever. You have no idea what we’re doing here,” the girl almost turned, and then, “oh. Well, who is this?”

“Master?” Ezra began tentatively.

“My replacement?” Metane demanded, with gratifyingly familiar spite.

Ezra, always too trusting and too congenial by far, slipped out from behind Maul, hands half-raised in a gesture of appeasement. “Hey. Umm. I’m Xizor—wait,” he squinted, his Force gently probing. “Metane?”

“How do you—” and Maul could feel it, when the long quiescent bond between the two stirred awake. “Ezra?”

Ezra, the little fool, leapt forward to embrace her. Maul tugged him back by the collar of his shirt.

“Master,” Metane complained.

“What did I tell you?” Maul shook his current apprentice under the eyes of the new one. “Do not embrace a Nightsister. Do not accept anything from a Nightsister. Do not go anywhere near a female, no matter what their age, unless accompanied by myself or another unmated man. Do you want to end up enslaved?”

“We’re not slaves,” one of Metane’s mates disagreed. Maul ignored him.

“But it’s just Metane—”

“Just Metane?” she grinned. “Oh little Ezra, I’m heartbroken. I’ll mate you so you can make restitution for that insult.”

“Really,” he scoffed.

“No,” she smiled, daring Maul with her audacity. “I’d mate you just for that face. You always were a pretty child, but now…”

Ezra flushed. The Dathomiri men snickered.

If Maul had suspected her of being serious, he would have drawn his saber there and then. Metane, observant as ever, noted his concern.

“No fears, old Master. Though you have arrived neatly in time for the Rites, this one isn’t a man yet.”

Ezra merely looked curious.

“He won’t be taking the Rites.”

“What’s the—” Ezra interrupted, or tried to.

“Facial tattooing on a human would stand out as much as your blank face did, apprentice.”

“The Nightmother will probably agree with you, but don’t let Daka catch him.”

“The Nightmother… Talzin is still alive?”

“Not Talzin,” Metane explained.

Maul stared at her, considering. ‘Nightmother’ wasn’t simply a title one could assume for themselves, or else all the witches would be competing for the position. Dathomir herself confirmed the Nightmothers, through some trial whose details were not granted to mere men, and Dathomir did not find many worthy. There were almost no Sisters left to his Clan, and most of those remaining were not yet women. The likelihood of them having a Nightmother seemed almost nil.

Metane sauntered back to the pilot’s seat. “Don’t worry your head over it, old Master,” she assured him. “You’ll meet her soon enough. Just… don’t try to kill her, please. If either of you died, it would be too inconvenient.”

------------------

And then they get down on Dathomir and find out that Ventress is the Nightmother. Probably she also caught up with Taron Malicos before he could kill Viscus, told him he was a shite at being a dark Jedi, and browbeat him into cooperating with her.

I also just like the idea of this Seventh Sister having elements of Maul’s tattoos reimagined in a more delicate and geometric Mirialan style, to show their adopted kinship. She wouldn’t have full body tattoos like the other Dathomiri: since the Mirialans elaborate on their tattoos to commemorate personal achievements, I think full-body tattooing, like the kind Maul has, would be read by other Mirialans as an unwarranted claim to fame on a 19 year old.

#Star Wars rebels #star wars fanfiction #Seventh Sister #Darth Maul #nightsisters #nightbrothers #Dathomir #Ezra Bridger #mirialans

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cora-vizsla · 3 years

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Into The Dark- Chapter 1

Pairing: Jedi!OC x Sith!Obi Wan

Word Count: 4.5K+

Story Rating: E (18+)

Chapter Rating: Just assume they’re all E at this point.

Warning: Swearing. Threats of violence. Mentions of death/dying. Mention of war. Drugging. Snark. Angst. (I mean seriously if you know me you know angst is gonna happen)

A/N: This is the beginning! If you haven’t read Hypnotic this story isn’t going to make much sense to you. If you have read Hypnotic, welcome back! I hope you’re ready to be sad lol. Anyway, enjoy and let me know if I missed any tags!

“Darling, you can’t be serious. There is no way that you’re going.”

“I am being serious, and I am going. This isn’t really a discussion. I’ve already made up my mind.”

“Explain it to me. Please?”

Zara sighed and sat down next to her husband. Obi Wan smiled at her softly, brushing her hair back.

“Mace called me. Palpatine got loose which shouldn’t surprise anyone. I wouldn’t care but.. he took Cody.”

“Cody? Who the hell is Cody?”

They both looked up to Anakin walking in, a four-year-old Leia on his hip.

“Zara!”

She slipped down Anakins leg and bolted into Zara’s arms. She laughed and giggled as Zara held her close and spun her.

“Oh, my beautiful little Leia. Couldn’t let your daddy go without you?”

“Nope! Gotta watch him. Mama says so.”

Anakin rolled his eyes but laughed.

“I came here to help you, Obi Wan, but if that slimeball took Cody there is no talking her out of it.”

“The clone?”

“My friend.”

Zara snapped and glared at the blonde. He held his hands up defensively and sat back, crossing one leg over the other.

“Yeah, Oh-bee. Her friend!”

Zara laughed and kissed the girls cheek.

“That’s right. You get it. We protect our friends, no matter what.”

“No matter what!”

Zara set Leia down who immediately ran around the room getting into everything. Anakin sighed but Zara motioned for him to let her go. Out of the two, Leia was the well behaved one. She was busy but it was more out of curiosity than breaking anything. Luke was more likely to break things just to see how they worked.

“The question I have is why you didn’t call me to help you.”

“Mace was very clear that neither you nor Obi Wan were welcome on this mission.”

“So, you’re working for the Jedi. Again.”

“No, sweetheart. I am helping them get my friend to safety. We all know how dangerous Palpatine is.”

“All the more reason for me to be by your side.”

“Can’t say I disagree with the Sith, Zar.”

Zara rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“No. Both of you will stay here. Anakin you have a family now. Your kids and wife are top priority. I’m not letting you get dragged into Jedi shit again. And you, my love, don’t play nice.”

“How rude, darling.”

“Rude, but correct. You don’t play nice with the Jedi and frankly I’m not letting you get near Palpatine again. He controlled you once.”

“So, you don’t trust me.”

Anakin cleared his throat and called for Leia. She ran over and jumped into his arms, holding on tightly.

“C’mon sweetheart. Aunt Zar needs to talk to her domesticated Sith.”

“Mama says you need to be nice to uncle Oh-Bee.”

“Well, mama isn’t here.”

“Good thing I am so I can tell her how mean you are to Aunt Zar’s husband who she loves very much.”

“It’s complicated, Leia.”

“Nope. Everyone duh-serves forgiveness, daddy. Plus, he makes Aunt Zar happy.”

Anakin sighed and looked at Zara for help, but she crossed her harms and shrugged.

“And don’t say its com-pluh-cated. You made Aunt Zara cry before. She forgave you. So, you should be nice.”

“You sound a lot like your mother.”

“Good! She’s the smartest person I know.”

Zara chuckled as Anakin sighed, defeated, and left the small home. She turned back to Obi Wan who had been watching her.

“We have a good life, Zara.”

“I agree.”

“Then why are you leaving?”

She sighed and let her shoulders slump slightly.

“Obi Wan, Cody meant a great deal to me. We worked together for a long time. I know that you don’t really work with anyone or play nice. It’s just when you work with someone for so long they become like family to you.”

“Not to be rude, but you left him before.”

“I left the entire order. I trusted the Jedi to keep the clones safe. They were to have their inhibitor chip removed and retired with honor. That isn’t what happened.”

“Well, your first mistake was trusting the Jedi.”

She sighed in frustration and got up off the couch. She put more things in her bag before turning to look at her husband.

“I need you to trust me. I need you to understand that a friend needs help.”

“And I need you to understand, my darling, that I know Sidious better than anyone on the Jedi counsel. What do you plan to do? Waltz in and tell him to give you your clone back and go back to jail?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what are you doing, Zara? This is reckless.”

“You wouldn’t save a friend if they were in danger?”

“I don’t have friends.”

“You wouldn’t save Anakin?”

“Absolutely not.”

Zara scowled and crossed her arms.

“Obi-Wan!”

“You could have picked anyone else we know, and I would have at least hesitated. That’s on you for choosing Anakin. It’s not like we’re the best of friends.”

“You wouldn’t save Padme? The twins?”

“I wouldn’t save them without you. I wouldn’t even dream of going without you.”

“Palpatine controlled you once.”

“Sidious had control; it was not over me. If you recall I convinced him not to kill you and tricked him into thinking that you were becoming my obedient little plaything. I tricked him at every corner, and he had no idea until the very end. Tell me I am wrong.”

She fell silent, looking at him with sadness written all over her face.

“Then tell me what the true problem is. Tell me that you’re afraid I’ll feel the dark side too strongly and go back. This has nothing to do with me not playing nice. It has everything to do with the Jedi playing into your fear of the very darkness that I carry inside of me and using it to control you. How can you not see that?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Which part?”

Zara looked down at her feet and chewed at her bottom lip.

“None of it. Cody needs my help. If I want the help and the resources needed to help him, I must do it their way. I love you with all my heart. I truly do. Is there some truth to what you said? Yes. I think I’ll always be afraid of you turning fully to the dark and not needing me anymore. The darkness does scare me. I’ve never said anything contrary to it. Your darkness doesn’t scare me though.”

“If you trust me, then you have to also trust that darkness, Zara.”

“I have to do this, Obi Wan.”

“You really don’t. You can’t change my mind of this.”

“Then I guess we’re at an impasse.”

Obi Wan stood up and walked to her, placing his hands gently on her arms.

“I know nothing that I say will stop you from going. I’ve known the entire time we’ve discussed this. Just know that I strongly think you should take me with you. We’re stronger together. Always have been, even if we didn’t want to admit it at the time.”

“I have to do this.”

He nodded and kissed her forehead, holding her close to him.

“Come back to me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of not coming back to you.”

“Don’t make me come looking for you either.”

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his torso, resting the side of her face on his chest.

“I mean it, Zara. I will tear this galaxy apart before I let anyone, or anything keep us apart.”

“I believe you.”

“Good. Just don’t ever let yourself forget that.”

XXX

Zara stepped down the ramp of her ship and pulled her saber into her hand, igniting it. She looked at the burned orange hue of it and thought of the man waiting for her. When she had settled onto Naboo, one of the first things she did was make a saber with the crystal he had given her at the ball.

Now she was glad for it. It reminded her of him and everything that she was always fighting for. It wasn’t as beautiful as his eyes, but it was close enough to bring her some peace. She wasn’t thrilled about not having him there, but she knew it was the best thing she could do.

She thought about their argument quite a bit on her trip. Obi Wan had been right about her fear. She feared losing him more than she feared losing her own life. The last thing she wanted to happen was for Palpatine to get his hands on him again. She couldn’t risk it.

The same went for Anakin. He had already twisted him beyond breaking once. He had no training with the darkness that he now carried. She had wondered if Obi-Wan could teach him but never brought it up. They didn’t get along and it came down to how much the darkness scared her.

It hurt her heart how much Obi-Wan was hurting. She didn’t do it to harm him, but it didn’t change that it did. Zara desperately wanted to get Cody to safety and go back to her life. They both deserved to be done fighting and yet there she was fighting another battle for the Jedi.

She made her way down the hallway and felt through the force. She sighed when she felt a familiar signature and moved into a wide-open room. In the middle of the floor was Cody, hands bound in front of him. Zara looked around to check for any traps but when she didn’t see any, she walked to her old friend.

“General?”

“Just Zara, Cody. I’m not a general anymore.”

“You.. you shouldn’t have come.”

“Of course, I did. You’re my friend. As soon as I found out you were missing, I came.”

“You don’t understand, General. That’s exactly what he wanted.”

“Who? Palpatine?”

“I’m so sorry.”

She knelt down to look at him and picked his head up to look at her gently. Her eyes widened when she saw that he had tears brimming his eyes.

“Cody, why are you sorry? We’ve talked about this in depth. I don’t care that you’re a clone. You mean-“

“I’m not the only one that knows your soft spot for clones, General. I can’t.. I’m so sorry.”

Before Zara could ask him what was wrong, she felt a jab in her arm. She looked down to see Cody sticking a syringe into her arm and push the plunger down all the way. She yanked her arms away and fell backwards onto her butt.

“Cody?”

“I told you.. you shouldn’t have come. I’m so sorry, General.”

The binders fell off Cody’s wrists and he stepped forward, pulling Zara up into his arms. The world was spinning so she shut her eyes, desperately wanting it to stop.

“I have her, sir.”

“Very good, CC-2224. Just as I expected. Bring her here. Destroy her ship before you do.”

“Yes, sir.”

Zara lost consciousness as Cody carried her to his ship. He set her down gently, placing her saber on his waist. Once she was settled, he walked over to her ship and looked through her belongings. He pulled out a few holo pictures that he clicked on. A small smile spread on his lips when he saw Anakin alive and well with Padme and two children. The other ones were of her and the Sith that had taken her. He had been worried when he first heard she had left the order with him but was assured it was her choice.

“You look so happy, General. Exactly what you should be.”

He closed his hands around the holos and slipped them into his pocket. He glanced at the dashboard and saw the emergency signal. He hesitated then reached past it, “accidentally” hitting the emergency button. When he stood up walked outside and waited.

“Stars, I hope that signal gets to someone.”

After a few moments he stepped back and shot at the fuel tank, exploding the ship as instructed. Once he made his way back into the ship and checked on Zara, he hit the coordinates for where he needed to go.

“I know you can’t hear me, General. I just hope you know I wouldn’t do this unless I had any other choice. I’ll do what I can to keep you safe. Hopefully General Skywalker and your Sith can find you in time.”

Once they were into hyperspace, he pulled her saber from his waist and looked at it. It was new from what he remembered, but still beautifully made. He expected nothing less from his former General.

He thought back on the first time he saw her. She showed up to command his troops with a smile on her face. He initially thought that she was going to be a weak leader and weakness meant death to clones. He had been so wrong.

She was the first Jedi to show compassion towards him and his men. She grieved their deaths just as much as he did. Nights when he was up wrestling with the pain of losing someone, she was always right by his side. She didn’t need to; the mission was always finished. She wanted to. She wanted them all to know that they were all individual people to her, regardless of where they came from.

She made it easy to run into the heat of battle. It wasn’t that he didn’t ever want to. He believed in his own fighting and trusted his brothers. It just came down to the fact that he wasn’t fighting for her. He was fighting alongside her.

He ignited the blade and widened his eyes when a new color came out. He didn’t know the particulars of the Jedi and their blades, but he had never seen a blade that color before. Cody looked down at his hand holding the hilt and frowned.

He had hurt her. What was even worse was the possibility that she would never forgive him for what he did. The chip had been deactivated before Order 66 could be initiated but somehow Sidious still had a hold over him. He had gotten close enough to him to activate it just enough to make him obedient. He glanced back at Zara asleep and shook his head.

“We will find a way to get out of this, General. We always do. Somehow, we will get you back to your happiness. Maybe I’ll even find a bit of it myself.”

He chuckled to himself and shook his head again.

“Look at me, thinking a clone can be anything more than a tool. You’d think I’d learn by now. Although you’d be yelling at me for even thinking that. Stars, General, I hope you don’t hate me forever for this.”

XXX

Mace sat in the council chambers alone. The last thing he wanted to do was call up Zara, but he didn’t see any other option. Once the war was ended, the Jedi no longer had the authority to do anything without the government’s approval. He knew that they wouldn’t send them for a single clone. As far as they were concerned Palpatine was no longer a threat. Not that the Jedi agreed with that at all.

When his coms went off with Zara’s emergency signal, he felt his chest get heavy. It ended just as quickly as it was received, but he knew the longer it took for her to message or call him, the worse that was. She had a propensity to bump into buttons, but she always called. He tried to call and was met with no answer. Master Yoda walked into the room and looked at him.

“Her signal went off then immediately went dead.”

“Feel it, do you? A great darkness, there is.”

“Yes. I feel it. It has to be Sidious.”

“Mmm. Yes. Suspect him, I do.”

“I’m going to have to reach out to Anakin and Veth.”

“Go. In much danger, she is.”

XXX

Obi-Wan sat in his home, reading the same book for the third time. As much as he wanted to reach out to Zara, he didn’t want her to think he was trying to distract her or force her back home. It was killing him though. Even just hearing her voice would make him feel better. He looked up from his book when he heard a ship land close by. Before he could stand up, Anakin was bursting into the house.

“Sith, it’s the Jedi.”

“Is Zara with them?”

“It’s only Master Windu.”

“Shit.”

He followed the younger man outside just in time to see Windu walking closer. He clenched his jaw, not wanting to see the Master Jedi at all.

“Anakin. Veth.”

The three men looked to the side as Padme and the twins came running out of their home.

“Wow, even your children are strong with the force.”

Anakin stepped in front of Mace and set his jaw; his hands balled into fists at his side.

“Don’t even look at them. They will never be hurt by you or the council.”

“I’m not here for your children, Anakin.”

“Where is my wife.”

Mace turned to look at Veth who was standing with his arms crossed over his chest. He still looked just as cocky to Mace as he had when he was a child, but the darkness swirling around him was new. It was the first time they had faced each other, other than through a holo communication.

“We should go inside. Small ears don’t need to hear this conversation.”

Anakin glanced over at Obi-Wan, who nodded back at him. Anakin looked back at Padme and gave her a tight smile before following Obi-Wan into the house. Once Mace made it through the door, Obi-Wan used the force to slam it behind him, smirking when the master Jedi jumped.

“If it weren’t for the children, you wouldn’t be welcome in this home. Now tell me, where is my wife and why is she not here with you?”

“She made it to where we though Sidious was with the clone trooper.”

“Cody.”

“What?”

“His name is Cody. You sent my wife to find him and don’t even have the courtesy to use the name she knows him by.”

Mace rolled his jaw and sighed.

“Cody. My apologies. She made it there safely and sent a communication she was heading inside the building. From there, we lost contact. Soon after, her emergency signal reached us and turned off within a few seconds.”

“And nothing since?”

“Nothing.”

“Sidious has her. That emergency signal was a mistake. Where is she.”

Obi-Wan was seething. Her being taken was exactly what he was afraid of, and he was completely powerless to change what was happening. The more he thought about how terrible Sidious was and how much she could be hurt, the more the room started swirling with darkness. Mace put his hand on his own saber and took a step back.

“Please calm down, Veth.”

“You called up my wife, the woman that I love more than anything in the galaxy and asked her to go on a fool’s errand with no backup. Then you come here and tell me that Darth Sidious, the most dangerous man I have ever met likely has her. Now you expect me to calm down. After everything you’ve done to me you’re lucky you’re still breathing. Let alone what you’ve done to her. She came to me broken, Master Windu. She came to me lost and afraid that she had lost every bit of her life and soul because she couldn’t live with your lies anymore. You nearly forced her to kill her best friend. Now you sent her into the hands of a madman. Tell me, why in the galaxy should I calm down?”

“I understand that you’re upset.”

Obi-Wan barked out a laugh and crossed his arms again.

“You don’t understand anything that the Jedi didn’t shove down your throat. Tell me where she is. I will go bring her back home where she belongs.”

“I’m going with you.”

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin and frowned. He could feel how unstable Anakin felt. The normal darkness around Obi-Wan he was used to, but the pure rage he was harnessing was drowning him. It wasn’t ever something that was discussed but he would never be able to fully get away from the dark side. It just wasn’t possible.

“You aren’t stable enough, Skywalker.”

Obi-Wan shot his finger out to point at Mace, shaking his head.

“You don’t get to tell him what to do, Mace. The audacity that you Jedi have. It is absolutely astounding that you thought you could walk into my home and tell anyone under this roof what to do.”

“You know he isn’t stable. I can’t be the only one who feels it.”

“What he is or isn’t is no problem of yours. Just give me the coordinates and I will take care of getting Zara back.”

“I want to help.”

“You have done enough. Now, if you will, I have much to do and none of that involves catering to you being in my home. You’re tarnishing the air and I won’t have it a moment longer.”

Mace sighed and shook his head, setting down a data stick with the coordinates and information about the ship she had been using. He thought about asking him how he planned on helping him, but he thought better and walked through the door. Once he left Anakin huffed out a frustrated sigh and grabbed the stick.

“Alright let’s go.”

“You aren’t going.”

“What!?”

Anakin spun around to glare at Obi-Wan.

“You just said-“

“I said he doesn’t get to come into my home and tell anyone what to do. That does not mean I don’t agree with him. You’re unstable. You have been for a long time.”

“I’m fine.”

“Tell me that my darkness didn’t affect you then.”

Anakin opened his mouth a few times and shut it, without uttering a word.

“Exactly. You have a family here that needs you.”

“Zara is my family too, Veth.”

“Stars above I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

Anakin smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Why do you think I call you that?”

“You’re insufferable. I pity your former master. You wouldn’t have lasted five minutes having been my padawan.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m a lot stronger than you think I am.”

“I gladly would have tossed you off the first cliff we found. I considered it when we found you if I’m being entirely honest. Ungrateful brat that you are. You’re lucky when I shoved you it was to your safety.”

“I still don’t fully believe that was you. I don’t remember you being so smug.”

“No need for you to. It wouldn’t be the first time that you ignored the reality around you to construct fantasies that mean absolutely nothing to anyone else.”

“You’re an ass, do you know that?”

Obi-Wan barked out a laugh as he started gathering his supplies.

“Oh, I’ve been told. The fact of the matter is that you are not stable enough to come with me. I need to focus on Sidious and whatever he has planned. I can’t babysit you through your temper tantrums, reckless behavior and propensity to disobey any form of authority within a parsec of your location.”

Anakin frowned and huffed out a sigh.

“Then teach me.”

“Teach you? If Padme can’t control you, I highly doubt anyone else can.”

“I’ll listen! I’m not asking you to turn me to the dark side. I just.. I’m the only person in this situation that even remotely trusts you. If you would just help me, I can help you then we both can help Zara.”

He sighed and looked at the younger man in front of him. He meant what he had said to Zara: if given the choice he would not save him. He had a point though. He was someone he could trust to at least want to help his wife. After considering it for a moment he sighed and tossed his hands up in the air.

“Fine. Only if you go tell Padme that it is entirely your idea and that I was opposed to it from the beginning. You will listen to me and do as I tell you to. I will teach you how to control yourself at least enough to help Zara. Beyond that, just stay out of my way.”

“Yes! I’ll go grab my bag and let Padme know what is going on.”

Anakin head towards the door but paused when Obi-Wan spoke to him.

“And Anakin? The first time you aggravate me I’m shoving you out the airlock. Don’t think that I won’t either. I’ve killed for less.”

XXX

Cody carried a still unconscious Zara into a dark room, only having the very center lit up dimly.

“CC-2224 I see you have returned successfully.”

“Yes, sir.”

The shadow of a man stepped forward, using the force to push Zara’s hair from her face. Cody thought that she looked almost peaceful curled up in his harms, her face resting against his chest.

“You have pleased me, trooper. Now the next part of my plan begins. Take her to her chambers. She is not to leave unless I command it.”

“Sir, am I permitted to stay with her?”

“Yes. Keep her calm. Give her a reason to stay here. Though I don’t expect her to be on board with everything I say, at first, this entire plan is contingent on her falling in line.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cody turned, walking down a long hallway. Once he entered Zara’s chambers, the door shut and locked behind him. Normally it would have made him uneasy, but he was calmer knowing that he wouldn’t be separated from his former general just yet. He placed her down gently into the bed, careful to ensure she would be comfortable.

He pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. He glanced down at the black armor that he now wore, unsure of how he liked it. He always wore armor, so it wasn’t new. It just made him uneasy at how dark it was.

When he shifted, he felt the holo pictures that he had taken from her ship. He pulled them out and turned on their display, looking at Zara’s family. He felt so much guilt and pain knowing that he was part of the reason she wasn’t home with them. Cody knew that nothing good was going to come from Sidious getting his hands on Zara, but he was determined that he wouldn’t let her forget where she belonged.

“I can’t let you forget something that you always deserved to have, Zara. I just can’t.”

Zara continued to sleep while Cody sat next to her. He was caught between his loyalty for her and his obligation to follow Palpatine. He wanted her to wake up, but he also was afraid of what she was going to say once she realized he had betrayed her.

“You’re so strong, General. If anyone can fix this, it’s you. I believe in you so much. Please have just a little bit of faith in me.”

Tag List:

@mapplestrudel @cannedsoupsucks @musubabii @mascaracoffee @ahsoka-padme

#sith #sith!obi wan #sith!obi-wan #sith!kenobi #sith!obi wan x oc #hypnotic #star wars #starwars #Star Wars Fic #fanfiction

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padawanlost · 3 years

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Hi, I dont read alot (of books) but I was just wondering, did Anakin/vader ever see people he helped/freed (during his time as a jedi) being oppressed by the empire. Did he feel pity or sorrow for them? Or had he totally unplugged from those emotions at that point ?

No. Anakin was to broken to feel sorry for anyone but himself. People have this idea of Vader being a sadistic monster who thrived on the suffering he caused but the truth is he was too lethargic to care. He didn’t stay with Palpatine out enjoyment or even loyalty. He stayed because he had nowhere else go, no one else to be with.

You killed her because, finally, when you could have saved her, when you could have gone away with her, when you could have been thinking about her, you were thinking about yourself … It is in this blazing moment that you finally understand the trap of the dark side, the final cruelty of the Sith— Because now your self is all you will ever have. And you rage and scream and reach through the Force to crush the *shadow* who has destroyed you, but you are so far less now than what you were, you are more than half machine, you are like a painter gone blind, a composer gone deaf, you can remember where the power was but the power you can touch is only a memory, and so with all your world-destroying fury it is only droids around you that implode, and equipment, and the table on which you were strapped shatters, and in the end, you cannot touch the shadow. In the end, you do not even want to. In the end, the shadow is all you have left. Because the shadow understands you, the shadow forgives you, the shadow gathers you unto itself— And within your furnace heart, you burn in your own flame. This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker. Forever … [Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith]

What Vader appeared to be - no fucks given BAMF – were very different from what he truly was: Palpatine’s slave. Vader, once you get to know him, is not a scary monster. He’s a quite pathetic and hopeless man.

He wasn’t a sadistic control freak like Palpatine and he didn’t *enjoy* hurting people he didn’t feel deserve to be hurt but he was too damaged and broken to do anything about it. he kind of just went with it.

In one of the comics, he has to face the truth that the Empire is enslaving people and he is upset about it. but he does nothing because there's nothing left in him. for him to pity them, he’d have to empathize with them and that’s something he couldn’t afford to do. He was too trapped in his own private little hell to feel bad for people.

Again the smile or snarl from his Master. “You were a traitor, were you not, Lord Vader?” Vader’s breathing caught on the hook of sudden anger. “What did you say?”

“To the Jedi. To Padmé. To Obi-Wan. To all those you loved.” His Master turned to look at him, his eyes reflecting the flames.

Vader didn’t know the answer his Master wanted to hear, so he simply answered with the truth. “Yes.” [Paul S. Kemp. Lords of the Sith]

If he couldn’t even care enough to defend himself from his master abusive behavior, I doubt he’d ever care enough to pity a stranger.

When it comes to Vader’s apathetic, one of the best examples I can think of is his ‘relationship’ with Drua. In one of the books, Vader and Palpatine are stranded. They run into a girl and Vader saves her life:

“Come here, girl,” the Emperor said, putting the power of the Force into his command. Unable to resist, the girl walked out of the tree line until she stood, small and vulnerable, before him. With preternatural speed the Emperor drew, ignited, and slashed at the girl with his lightsaber, but Vader had sensed his Master’s intent and moved with greater speed, igniting his own blade and intercepting his Master’s blow before it could land. The girl, under the sway of the Emperor’s power, seemed scarcely to notice the danger. She simply stood there, staring vacantly, her face aglow in the red light of the crossed blades. The Emperor’s mouth twisted in a snarl, and Vader felt his power gathering. Behind Vader, Deez raised his rifle and aimed it at Vader’s back, but Vader stretched his free hand back and unleashed a blast of power that lifted the guardsman from his feet and flung him into the trees. Branches cracked audibly under the impact of Deez’s body. Vader and his Master stared at each other across the sizzling glow of their crossed blades. “Has it come to this?” his Master said. He sounded calm, almost resigned, but not at all surprised. The tone surprised Vader. “Forgive me, Master,” he said, and deactivated his blade. “I think the girl can be of use to us.” [Paul S. Kemp. Lords of the Sith]

The girl, Drua, takes them to very home and does everything she can to help them. After everything was said and done, Palpatine orders Vader to kill her and everyone in her village. And Vader does it. Not because he wants it. but because he’s too apathetic to care. Too trapped in his toxic relationship with Palpatine to see things for what they really were.

“There’s work for that yet, my friend,” the Emperor said, nodding at the hilt of Vader’s blade.

“Master?”

“The villagers, Lord Vader. Drua and her people. We can’t allow so many witnesses to live. I’ll wait for you here.”

Vader looked from his Master to the dark mouth of the mine inside of which Drua and the rest of the villagers had fled. He felt the Emperor’s eyes on him, the intensity of the gaze, the weight of his expectations, and Vader knew that the day’s events had been only half about depleting a rebel movement before it could grow. They had also, as Vader had suspected, been about testing him, forcing him to face the ghosts of his past and exorcise them forever and fully. He saw that more clearly now; saw, too, that his Master was right to administer the test. It also explained why his Master had shown so little of his true power throughout the day. Perhaps he’d wanted Vader to rely on himself to overcome the challenges they’d faced. Or perhaps he’d wanted to seem weaker than he was, to draw out any treacherous ambitions Vader may have held. “I hear and I obey, Master,” Vader said. He ignited his lightsaber and strode toward the cave, his mind drifting back to another day, a day when he strode into the Jedi Temple filled with nothing but younglings. He’d slaughtered them then, and he would slaughter the Twi’leks now. His Master’s laughter followed him into the cave, and it lingered in his mind, louder even than the screams of the Twi’leks as they began to die by his blade. When it was done, he returned to his Master’s side. “Well done, old friend,” Darth Sidious said. He wiped his hands, as if to clean them of dirt. “And now let’s move on to more important things.” [Paul S. Kemp. Lords of the Sith]

The only time Vader cared enough to influence his behavior was with Luke. All the other times, there were a glimpse of something – of the old Anakin – like when he saw C3PO or even Ahsoka. But not enough for him empathize with people.

Qui-Gon had a interesting theory about this. He believed Anakin – to survive – had to bury that side of him so Vader could exist. An Anakin who cares cannot be Vader. He buried all the good things about Anakin.

“Master, is Darth Vader Anakin?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon’s voice replied. “Although the Anakin you and I knew is imprisoned by the dark side. […]The core of Anakin that resides in Vader grasps that Tatooine is the source of nearly everything that causes him pain. Vader will never set foot on Tatooine, if only out of fear of reawakening Anakin.” [Ryder Windham. The Life and Legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi]

As terrible as life as Vader is, facing Anakin Skywalker’s decisions and living with them would be much, much harder. That’s why only when Luke demonstrated his unconditional love that Anakin allowed himself to reemerge.

Vader saw his son crying, and knew it must have been at the horror of the face the boy beheld. It intensified, momentarily, Vader’s own sense of anguish—to his crimes, now, he added guilt at the imagined repugnance of his appearance. But then this brought him to mind of the way he used to look—striking, and grand, with a wry tilt to his brow that hinted of invincibility and took in all of life with a wink. Yes, that was how he’d looked once. And this memory brought a wave of other memories with it. Memories of brotherhood, and home. His dear wife. The freedom of deep space. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, his friend … and how that friendship had turned. Turned, he knew not how—but got injected, nonetheless, with some uncaring virulence that festered, until … hold. These were memories he wanted none of, not now. Memories of molten lava, crawling up his back … no. This boy had pulled him from that pit—here, now, with this act. This boy was good. The boy was good, and the boy had come from him—so there must have been good in him, too. He smiled up again at his son, and for the first time, loved him. And for the first time in many long years, loved himself again, as well. [James Kahn. Return of the Jedi]

Vader didn’t hate the world. He hated himself.

And because of that he bury everything that was remotely good and positive about himself as deep as he could. So his behavior, his lack of empathy wasn’t about him being sadistic. He was simply too broken and trapped in a deeply abusive relationship to care for the world around him.

#ask #anon #anakin skywalker #sw meta #darth vader #meta: anakin #txt

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ilonga · 3 years

Text

angstpril day 4

prompt: “betrayal”

(warning for mentioned major character death)

ao3

It is a dream from the force that prompts Darth Sidious to rethink his plans.

The dream is only shadows and vague impressions—the force doesn't seem to like him much these days, certainly not enough to send him clear visions—but the message is there all the same, once he stops to consider. The boy, young Anakin Skywalker, who he's spent the better part of the past two years befriending, is dangerous.

To him.

He knew this already, of course. The boy is said to be the Chosen One, the one the Jedi believed would defeat the Sith. This was to be part of his plan, the last sweet twist of victory. To have turned the Jedi's own Chosen One against them. To bring their precious child of prophecy under his ownership.

But tonight he'd seen—snatches. Different flashes of futures that could be. Sometimes the boy turns. Sometimes he does not. Sometimes he turns and turns back. But in all of those possible futures, he is Sidious's death.

This will not do.

He reconsiders.

What the force is telling him is true—the boy is a risk. A massive one. He knew this the day he'd decided to incorporate him in his grand plan. But it seems he's miscalculated. The boy is not simply a risk, he is a guarantee of defeat.

The boy must be eliminated. Now, before he grows too powerful and interferes with the plan. Now, while Sidious still has his youthful, blindly trustful adoration.

Yes.

His method will be simple and clean, he decides. His predecessor, Plagueis, had been far too obsessed with his experiments to survive long as the Sith Master, but here, at last, his life's work will finally come to some use. The Master's work with poisons had been comparable to no other, and it will serve Sidious well.

For the first time in decades, Sidious feels a pinch of respect for his deceased Master.

Sarashade, he decides. He'll go with Sarashade. The poison mimics a bout of heavy Corellian flu, except it is flawlessly fatal, every time. To the Jedi, it will seem that the boy simply died of an illness he had unfortunately been left unvaccinated for. A pity to be blamed on his weaker Outer Rim immune system. The poison is odorless, colorless, flavorless—utterly untraceable and undetectable in every way. Plagueis had spent a great many years perfecting it.

And Sidious had stolen it all in a day.

Plan made, Sidious sits back, content. He'll invite the boy for a midday meal tomorrow—and the Jedi will not, cannot refuse him.

Within two days, the boy has fallen ill.

Within a week, he is in critical condition.

Within a week and three and a half days, the boy is dead.

Sidious smiles.

He has won.

#angstpril2021 #angstpril day 4 #angstpril #my writing #star wars fanfiction #star wars au #mentioned major character death #star wars #palpatine #anakin skywalker #darth plagueis

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doorsclosingslowly · 3 years

Text

Hell is just a beat away (3/9)

Despite early promise, young Maul has turned out to be a disappointment, willfully delaying his training with secret attempts to make himself friends from scrap metal. He must be properly motivated, and so Darth Sidious sends him to a slave market on an impossible mission. It backfires. Star Wars: Darth Maul (2017) comic AU | 5.2k | warning for slavery, sexual assault of a teenager (non-graphic)

Ten to doomsday, moving fast

Eldra does not sleep. She refuses. If she has to bite her fingers bloody when her eyelids threaten to drop, then so be it. Master Fyaar would have chastened her for it—she always insists that Eldra be at her best regardless of circumstance, and staying awake for what must be more than one or two entire standard days now will help with neither her innate distractibility nor her willful emotions. Her secret inadequacy, unknown to all but Fyaar, who chose Eldra when she was ten and had yet to develop the mind that is, and she has rarely admitted to those fears even in the privacy of her own brain, the mind that is perhaps fundamentally unsuited to the noble path of the Jedi. Sure, she does well enough in her classes, though she drives her teachers to frustration with her incessant fiddling with any trinket at all within her reach and her doodling and her daydreams. Sure, she mostly behaves acceptably among people, though she does not pick up on the right cues to be a diplomat and she vacillates too often between excited talking and secret loneliness, when she, once again, finds her peers more interested in each other than in whatever she has wanted to share. Her one friend in the Order is Bayro who’s two years older, though now she’s not even sure if Bayro would see her as more than a friendly, clingy acquaintance, and—

Will Bayro even miss her? They’ve made plans to watch a holovid after Eldra’s back from Teth and Bayro aces the Advanced Test on Coruscant Sublevels 6665 through 7900. Vague plans, though, and since Eldra didn’t know how long she’d have to guard Mayor Woobudg… Bayro will probably notice in a few months that Eldra hasn’t returned to the Temple, and then watch the holovid with one of her many other friends. She’ll—

Watch your feelings, Eldra, she remembers. It hurts. The memory of Master Fyaar hurts worse than even the imaginary indifference of Bayro does, but it’s necessary. As ever, Master Fyaar’s warning is right, even if it’s only the ghost of Fyaar living on inside Eldra’s grief. Eldra almost lost her calm over a scenario of her own imagination, yet another reminder of her unsuitable mercurial temperament. Yet another reminder of why she needs Fyaar, needs her constant watch, if she wants to remain on the path of the Jedi.

And Master Zalandas Fyaar is dead.

Fyaar’s dead.

Eldra watched her murder, and the murder of everyone she was supposed to protect on this mission. Eldra watched her murder and did not reach for the dark side of the force to avenge her. Eldra watched and held still.

Eldra allowed herself to be abducted.

She does not sleep in her tiny cell, just as she didn’t sleep on the freight ship that carried her to an unknown planet far away from bloodied Teth. She didn’t sleep then as stubbornly as she does now, but even before her wide-open burning eyes the pictures will not stop. The blood. The touch. The grin of her vile captor when he said that she would fetch a tidy sum, despite being a blue twi’lek (“A dime a dozen, they are, and this one’s not even a trained dancer! She hasn’t even… look!” Her captor had pulled her upper lip away then, and she had snapped for his fingers. “She’s still got those awful sharp teeth! Who the hell lets a twi’lek girl walk around with sharp teeth? She could tear a guy’s throat out, with these!”) she would still be worth a quick sale to her captors but only because she is (was) a Jedi padawan, and apparently there are quite a few pieces of shit out there who’d like to hurt a Jedi. Or—she keeps her eyes open, open, open till tears threaten to drop, and yet the thought comes. Or fuck one. Same difference.

A toy that’s padawan-shaped. That’s why they let her keep her own robes. But at least they did.

Watch your feelings, but still, Eldra shakes to her very core. She’s never thought of herself as being anything but a person, slightly inadequate perhaps in all ways that matter to her but a person; a luminous being, a small conduit for the very force to act through in the material galaxy; but now she’s been caught and taught that what she is is actually just a twi’lek girl. Cheap. Interchangeable. Nothing but her species and her gender, nothing but her flesh: a pretty dancer, never mind she hates dancing and if she ever makes it out, if the Jedi find and rescue her, please, please, she will never ever dance not even a single one of those silly novelty dances ever again even if Bayro does it first. She’ll go to whatever lengths needed to never be appraised, judged, looked upon, perceived as anything but a luminous dutiful Jedi ever again.

To these people, she’s not a person. Not a Jedi, unless the fetish counts, not really, not to the slavers and—watch your feelings, but still, the seething disgust returns and she wants nothing more than her lightsaber through her captor’s hearts or their hands torn off by her teeth—perhaps, maybe, please no, not truly anymore either to herself.

⁂

Maul wakes up to insistent beeping. He’s never heard the noise before, except—somewhere behind the headache and the nausea he remembers—except roughly five minutes ago, and five minutes before that, and five minutes before… He’s read about those periodical noises. Snooze button on an alarm clock, they’re called. He’s never used them before. He’s never used—Master teaches that a slothful tool is a tool broken, useless, and he’s never before dared to oversleep, even with his throat swollen and filled with mucus he didn’t, but now—it is a mercy he does not deserve, that Master was not here to witness Maul fail so deeply on this mission and just because something beats a booming drum inside his head and stuffed his stomach full of eels twisting up languidly through his esophagus.

Not real eels, though. He checks his vomit after throwing up. No eels. No animals hatched inside him; it’s just an inconvenient illness. And he feels better already, after spewing out the clear oily water and half-digested bread and no eels whatsoever. He does feel much better. Definitely. Illness during his mission would be inconvenient.

He has ample time to travel to the palace of Xev Xrexus before the padawan is sold there. Time he is grateful for, because Master’s ship will not let him in, so he has no access to his stilts or anything else he prepared apart from his cloak and the vocoder mask he carried in his satchel to the convenience store like a talisman of ingenuity and pretense. He doesn’t have his finest Sith robes that he left safe inside, only to be worn in the moment of Darth Maul’s triumph, and most of his weapons, too, apart from one anonymous knife strapped to his shin, are still tidied away in the ship Master gave him that will now pulverize anyone who dares approach.

Luckily, Maul is both incredibly clever—he figured out the location of the padawan! Despite Master giving him a wrong date and location! Solely by his own superior Sith cunning!—and he is within another sucker’s ship now—he sliced the lock in minutes! Because he is Darth Maul!—and the ship is full of new tools for improvisation.

Such as the large pair of black sunglasses that helps guard him at least slightly against the sun’s sickening poking and poking and poking of his cerebral cortex. Such as the trio of black shirts that, belted with a strange deltoid strip of fabric, bulk up his frame considerably and also make him feel toasty warm. Nar Shaddaa is cold, but Maul isn’t. Yet another victory to add to his tally.

With the gloves and the vocoder mask and the Sith cloak added on top, every square centimeter of Maul’s flesh is covered, and as he struts in front of the berth mirror he decides: he looks both incredibly dignified and scary, not to himself obviously but to those forcenull denizens of the underworld who will yet learn to tremble before the almighty Sith. He looks almost as impressive as Master. He doesn’t have the pale chin lurking under his cowl, obviously the most Sithly of looks, but in a pinch the black leather covering his cheeks and the opaque gridded speaker over his mouth should do almost as well.

Before he leaves, he ransacks the ship. No point in abandoning tools he might yet use. Everything he can carry, he stuffs inside his satchel.

Then, he begins the long pedestrian march to the palace of Xrexus. As usual, while he walks, he seethes in the Sithly anger of how much faster he could go if only he had a decent speeder bike. Soon, he reminds himself. Soon. After the oncoming awesome success of this mission, Master will be impressed enough to bestow the title of Darth and gift him a CK-6 swoop bike tuned up to the limits of terrestrial speed. Soon. Besides, with how slow the nausea is to settle, it’s perhaps a tiny bit useful that he is forced to take this brisk long walk in the Nar Shaddaa morning air. Although his coat and shirts fluttering with the speed of his bike would look very cool… He loses himself in his daydreams, and before long, he spies a duo of falleen in white dress shirts and black pants before the palace that belongs to Xev Xrexor.

The most adventurous part of his mission has just begun.

“Greetings,” Maul growls haughtily with the handsome baritone of his vocoder. “I have chosen to purchase a Jedi slave today. I trust this is the location for these sorts of errands?”

“Are you on the guest list?” the left falleen asks.

Guest list? Yet another complication. But Maul must not fail. “I am Ma Goweelr,” he says, borrowing the name of the man whose ship he ransacked. He found an identification card with his name on it and wisely brought it with him. He pulls it out now.

“You don’t look like Goweelr, friend,” she says.

“Unfortunately, I had… an accident.” Blast. They cannot see his face, so tt’s the height issue again. If Maul had his stilts, he could have made his way through easily, but because Master saw fit to lock the ship—no, it’s not Master’s fault. Because Maul was stupid enough to leave his tools aboard the ship, he now falters. What to do. What to do. What to—

“He’s slow,” the other bouncer whispers to his partner, but loudly enough that Maul heard it without issue. He stares intently at Maul, almost if he was expecting a specific reaction.

The left falleen winks. “All right. A little grease in the palm goes a long way, friend.”

Grease? Necessary for the function of machines. Cooking, apparently, also. Often a type of fat, either animal or plant-based, though hydrocarbons mined on certain planets or synthesized in labs such as Corellia’s X-Tech Max nowadays are a far more affordable and controllable—

“He’s dumb, Brighta. We don’t care whether you’re on the guest list. We want a bribe.”

A… Maul’s certain he read about bribes somewhere, but—

“Cash. Money. Credits.”

Credits! Maul found some on the ship. Since they were light enough, he put them in his satchel. The force is with him! He pulls out the chits he found, rummaging in a perhaps less than dignified way—the falleen exchange a look over his head that he’s too busy to try to read, but it doesn’t seem hostile—and when he hands over five thousand credits their vague non-hostility turns to genuine excitement.

“House Xrexus is honored to host you for this auction, sir,” the male falleen says when he opens the door.

“As am I,” Maul replies with a bow. When he walks past, the female bouncer taps him on the shoulder and then bends down to whisper in his ear.

“The Jedi’s auction’s in two hours, but the preview starts in one and she’ll probably get snapped up then, so. Might wanna hurry.”

“Thank… you?” Maul rumbles and winces at the vocoder turning his slight surprise into a question, but the falleen does not laugh this time.

“Appreciative customers are rare. Come back anytime,” and she winks and pushes him with her—warm, strong, startling—hand the rest of the way through the door and then slams it shut.

Presale. Other customers. Complicating factors Maul would not even have known about if it wasn’t for the bouncer—and for the force, therefore, willing him to succeed—because he didn’t… He did not actually expect any competition. After all, there are no other Sith but the Master and his apprentice. Who, then, would have need of a Jedi padawan? Who has need of Xrexus’ auction at all when they are not sent by their Master? Their… Master. Master might compete with Maul at this sale, both as a test of Maul’s readiness and as a failsafe, should Maul not manage to succeed in his mission. Master is incredibly smart after all, and foresees any number of possible twists and turns of a scenario, as unlikely as they might be. Even such unlikely eventualities as Darth Maul not completing in his mission. Master considers everything. It’s why he’s the Master.

Luckily, Maul was forewarned, and so when he passes a fire exit plan of the palace that’s nailed to a wall in the empty entrance hall he looks for any possible… There. A server room. A small bureau. Two places where Maul might gain access to the databases of Xrexus and convince the filing system that he has already bought the Jedi, before the first competitor has even placed their bid. It’s the only surefire way of preempting a person as thorough and prompt as Master is, and besides… Maul understands machines. He can charm and bend them to his will. His confusion at the bouncers’ hints and the tip the falleen gave him when he would never have expected anything of the sort based on the way the previous part of the encounter had passed—never mind the blasted lack of his carefully constructed stilts—were a sore reminder that in the field of people Maul does not yet excel to the standard of a Sith. Something he must remedy, but perhaps not on a mission as important as this. (Perhaps not among people who are oily and stare too hard.)

Laughter peals in a room straight ahead, but the server room is one floor down a side staircase. It’s sectioned off by a dangly gold chain that Maul needs to barely duck to pass under, and no-one passes through either the main corridor he left or the dusty unlit staircase while Maul hops down, thinking I am Sith alternating with I am shadow on every step.

The hallway leading to the server room is just as deserted. The door is locked, but Maul has sliced the access pads of twelve ships now and has refined his technique to under three minutes of elegant fiddling. This lock takes two seconds.

A datapad is already hanging inside right next to the door, from the cable with which it’s plugged into a socket there. Maul picks it up. Its screen is thrice-cracked and fixed up with clear tape. The touchscreen is incredibly sluggish to react, but as much as he might love the challenge of repairing it he only has less than an hour to spare. If he must, he will, but—gloves. He removes the right one, and the datapad responds.

A login screen.

Thus-far, the security has been abysmal. Worse than what he improvised for the secret hiding space of the first functional droid he built, and so he enters root, root. It works.

Pathetic, Maul thinks. Disappointing. Embarrassing. Horrendous. Useless. Awful. You deserve this. You deserve worse. It almost takes off some of the giddiness at how well Maul has been performing on his mission, thus far. His opponents are veritable morons. It is no great feat, to succeed against people as unprepared for basic survival as these, and it does not take a Sith’s cunning—it’s not worthy of the great Darth Maul who learns under Darth Sidious the greatest creature in the galaxy—to fight them.

In the central database he changes the status of the Jedi padawan to Sold and the buyer to Ma Goweelrand types in 666666666 for the winning bid. It’s a large number, and Jedi means valuable. It should pass muster. Probably. Money: yet another area where Maul requires further instruction. There was another card Maul stole with information on Goweelr’s account with the InterGalactic Banking Clan, and he enters it in the respective field. As to the user listed as making these changes, he picks the fifth-most appearing in the database. If he wanted to arouse no suspicion at all, he would need to research Xrexus’ organization in total, but—he’d really rather not. Even glancing at some of the entries of the database reawakened the eels in his stomach.

He pettily changes the admin password and wipes the screen carefully before he logs out.

Mission almost complete.

Half an hour left until the beginning of the presale, a clock tells him, and that’s most likely when they will check the padawan’s entry and approach Goweelr as her legitimate buyer. Everything is going according to plan, as long as he is not caught down here.

Since Maul is Sith and shadow and incredibly silent and deadly, he isn’t.

He sneaks back up and then strides, with as much power and dignity as he can muster when he wants to skip giddily to celebrate a job well done, into the room where the laughter comes from. It’s—

It’s bright. Loud. Full. But more than any other adjective, it’s huge, a room that is a thousand times bigger than anything Maul has ever set foot in, with a domed ceiling rising so far above that he can’t make out any details there. Can’t see whether there are any cameras, or snipers—can’t see anything but the luster and wealth on display. Plants growing on floating bowls of silver, plants he has never seen anywhere but in holos (Most plants are plants he’s only ever seen in holos. Almost all of them. Master rarely makes him train off-planet, and there is nothing but fire on Mustafar.), plants and waterfalls. Delicate staircases that appear to hover in the air just like the tree-bowls are. It looks like something out of a dream, if Maul’s dreams were able to imagine impossible worlds and not just impossible people who’ll save him.

Below it all, there are throngs of people in various kinds of festive garb, chatting and sipping on dainty glasses. People of most species he’s ever read about. Even…

Even a zabrak. There’s a zabrak over in a corner, not an Iridonian zabrak like the ones Maul finds often in his research but a zabrak who looks startingly close to him, hairless and bright and black-marked, only he’s much taller than Maul—he’s tall! Maul always worried that his species was doomed to remain as small as he is right now but he’s tall! He won’t need stilts forever!—and he’s yellow.

Idly—or trying to appear idle but actually shivering with curiosity—he saunters closer. The zabrak, it’s quickly obvious, is not here as a buyer. He’s chained up, both manacles connected to the neck cuff, though the bonds look so flimsy that Maul could have snapped them. He’s almost naked except for a pair of trousers that barely reaches his thighs and, moreover, is made of a fabric far too flimsy and tight to fight in. His skin is weirdly shiny as well, as if he was sweating but that is unlikely, given Maul’s not too hot under his three shirts and a cloak (in fact, it gets colder the closer Maul comes to the strange zabrak), and the yellow zabrak’s not exercising either but standing completely still, feet slightly apart and arms raised in a poor imitation of a fighting pose. The claws on his hand and feet would be called neatly trimmed if Maul didn’t know intimately that this length means they’re cut so close to the bed that it irritates several internal nerves. The horns are filed too close as well, and they look blunt.

A fighting slave.

No. A pretend fighting slave.

Everything about him might look fearsome to one who does not know what to watch for, but he does not stand or dress or groom himself like a fighter.

It’s—it’s difficult for Maul to sort out his reaction. This is a zabrak, the first person like him he’s ever seen, but he’s also a mockery of the warrior he trains so hard to become. Are all other zabraks like this? Does Maul look like this to other people? Flimsy and fake? It is almost enough to be ashamed of the association, and Maul is glad that with his clothes no-one else here can guess at their shared species.

“Welcome,” the unchained human next to the zabrak shouts, and Maul cranes his neck but apparently it’s addressed to him. “What are you looking for? A nightly companion? A gladiator? A—”

“This is not a gladiator,” Maul growls.

“Ah, well, he’s versatile,” the slaver says. “Do you see his muscles?” He squeezes the other zabrak’s biceps. The zabrak does not react. “He is excellent at bearing pain as well,” and alright, Maul will give him that. From this close, he can see the faint network of scars.

“He’s truly a wild beast when you want him that way,” and if to contradict him—the first time Maul feels anything approaching pride at their kinship—the zabrak refuses to bare his teeth, even when the human slaps him in the face twice and then prods him with something bearing electric sparks. Still, the zabrak will not relent. He’s breathing and moving but somewhere deep in his eyes he looks nothing short of dead.

“I have business elsewhere,” Maul stutters out and the vocoder smooths it into a low growl. The queasy pit in his stomach must be the return of the eels, or else the force aims to reveal to him that he might be being observed by fleets of holodroids, a technological wonder he should research immediately upon completion of his mission, when he will never think of the scar-covered zabrak and his empty eyes ever again. He won’t even remember his face or his color. No, Maul will attempt to engineer holodroids and present them to his Master, who will be proud.

That’s what he thinks about, while he wanders the huge room at random. Holodroids. He doesn’t think about zabraks. In fact, he’s forgotten every fact he ever heard about that species. No zabraks exist but Maul. That’s the way it goes.

He doesn’t think of zabraks at all for several more minutes, and then a tannoy system message calls out for Ma Goweelr and his time of floating is over.

⁂

Thus far, the boy’s little adventure has been a disappointment. There were moments of fear and shame and misery, but mostly, what Sidious receives from him is bright giddy elation at being entrusted with this mission. It should have figured that Maul is not intelligent enough to see through his Master’s true plans, and yet—it was folly on his part, Sidous is prepared to admit that, but he expected more of his little zabrak.

Well. More agony, mostly.

He’ll have to be a little more patient. Someday soon, Maul’s luck will have to run out.

⁂

“This is her, Sir. Opening the cell now,” a woman says in front of the suddenly-bright cell, and Eldra’s hard-won, tattered, wide-eyed serenity dissipates.

It’s Dilar. Dilar, self-loathing traitor of a twi’lek slave. Eldra’s only known her for a day and enjoyed exactly zero seconds of it. The old woman’s hatred and revulsion at what she is forced to do, preparing slaves to be sold on, crowds out the very air. For the slavers, her utter loathing might be imperceptible—Dilar is a grudging, but polite tool—but it’s everywhere in the force, and Eldra cannot breathe. It’s hard enough keeping herself calm—keeping herself Jedi—when she knows that any time now a lecher with a Jedi fetish will come to her cell.

A lecher, or her rescuer.

Watch your feelings: do not give in to despair, Eldra, as Fyaar would say if she could. Maybe a Jedi will come.

It’s a war inside her, equal parts of hope and terror, and without her Master’s guidance how will Eldra find the strength to make herself calm again? Calm, serene, like the Jedi she was supposed to be.

A Jedi is better than this.

There is no emotion. There is peace.

There is no hatred, especially. Eldra should not hate Dilar. She shouldn’t hate every single slaver in the entire world, with even deeper depths of seething odium reserved for anyone selling or buying her. She shouldn’t. She does.

She isn’t wearing a force-suppressant collar, but that doesn’t matter. There are things far more binding than chains, than collars, in this world: Eldra promised her Master that she would be strong. She promised. She promised, and she hates these slavers. If she reached for the force now, she wouldn’t be able to call herself Jedi anymore. She would fail her Master and lose herself.

She would use her hatred to kill her tormentors. She would tear their throats out.

She would Fall.

Fear, raging and cold, has been her only companion for uncounted waking days now, that and bitter loathing. Master Fyaar died in front of her. Eldra’s been stripped of everything she thought she was and turned into a commodity, and now the only bright spot in her life is the fact that Martrey Woobudg the slaver, slaver, slaver who brought them to Teth is also fucking dead. Hopefully, it hurt.

The sudden hope is new, fragile and staggering and still too volatile to make reaching for the force safe. Hope: maybe the new arrival isn’t one of them. Eldra’s Master was in constant contact with the Temple, after all, and they must know about the ambush by now. They must have sent someone to save Eldra. (She tries very very hard not to remember that they don’t, sometimes, search for missing padawans, because of deferring to a higher purpose and the will of the force and being instruments of the Galactic Senate and not privileging attachments, including to their padawans, over the greater good et cetera et cetera, which is a code of conduct that Eldra, too, had always believed in. Until she got thrown in this cell, at least.)

Please, let it be a Jedi. Even if she gets thrown out for her hatred. Please, let it be a Jedi.

“Get up, girl,” Dilar says.

Eldra struggles onto her feet. She almost loses her balance, and that would kriffing hurt, because she’s got little chance of breaking her fall. Her hands are cuffed in front of her, encased in thin manacles she could easily break out of if it wasn’t pointless. If she wasn’t watched at all times. If she could use the force without Falling. If there was any way off this planet she doesn’t even know the name of. She could break them, but she can’t. They’re tight, and her shoulders ache from the forced immobility. (Almost, she’d told the slavers that restraining someone like this for days on end was a sure way of causing muscle damage, that they were lowering her value—were hurting her, by treating her like this, but she’d reconsidered. It would probably count as ‘helping slavers’. She hopes instead that they lose all their captives to their own bad practices. Eldra will not help them, if it kills her.)

If her visitor is a slaver, they’ll probably enjoy the sight of her helplessness. If they’re a Jedi, there may be compassion, pity, judgment—they’ll feel how scared she is, and how close to breaking—and that’ll be even more embarrassing to deal with afterwards, but at least there will be an afterwards for her.

For a second, the force floods with pain. Anger. Then, the presence hides itself again. Doesn’t matter. She’s felt it.

A force user.

A… Jedi, then?

Would a Jedi… Eldra herself would be angry, if she saw anyone else treated the way she is now, no matter how hard she tries for serenity. Eldra isn’t a good Jedi though. She’s too scared for that.

She looks up. If the visitor is a Jedi, Eldra doesn’t recognize them. But that means nothing: they’re covered head-to-toe in layers of black fabric. They’re wearing some sort of mask that covers their lower face, too, and oversized mirrored-glass sunglasses, and gloves, and a cowled cloak and what looks like at least two shirts, one over the other. They look like a black ball with legs sticking out. They look like someone decided to dress up as the platonic concept of shady. They look ridiculous.

They’re very short as well. They’re about twice the height of Grandmaster Yoda, and shorter than pretty much everybody else that Eldra knows. Well… they could be Master Piell. Would Master Piell dress up like this, though? Would he come to rescue her? Would he… well, he wouldn’t feel like the visitor in the force. Even Piell is a Master of the High Council. He wouldn’t fall prey to emotions as easily as Eldra did. He would not fail the light.

The only bit of skin that Eldra can make out is the bridge of the nose, between the jaw-mask and those sunglasses. Red.

Whoever it is isn’t human.

It might give hope, but—whoever it is has already paid and they own Eldra now, they tell the slavers, in a deep and slightly mechanic voice.

Paid.

Own.

Not a rescue, then. The Jedi wouldn’t reward a slaver for abducting a padawan.

Eldra will not cry. Not because if does not befit a Jedi, because the Jedi didn’t come for her. Eldra remained faithful—barely—she didn’t give in to her hatred and fear, didn’t Fall… and no-one came to rescue her. She will never see the temple again. She’ll never watch those holovids with Bayro, and Bayro—will she even notice? Will she mourn Eldra? Or will she be relieved that the clingy kid is gone?

She won’t cry. She will not give Dilar or this new buyer the satisfaction.

The shielding of Eldra’s cell opens. Dilar attaches a chain to Eldra’s manacles and her buyer ties the other end to their belt. They barely look at her, at least—in the nightmares she refused to allow herself to grow into images they always looked at her, excited and hungry, but this buyer seems curt and weirdly business-like.

Without another word, they start walking.

Eldra has no choice but to follow. The Jedi didn’t come. She is alone. Whatever awaits her outside, though, it can hardly be worse than this cell.

#darth maul #eldra kaitis #savage opress #savage oppress #hell is just a beat away #dimtraces makes things

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willowworkswithwords · 2 years

Note

Ooo Willow, my love! If you're still doing BTHB can you do stumbling and staggering or facing a phobia with Obi-Wan and Anakin? Either or, it's up to you! 💕

I am extending my sincerest apologies for this being posted so so so long after you requested, but thank you so much for this request, Katie!!! 💕 I really hope you enjoy it

ao3

BTHB is done!!! Thank you to everyone who requested fills for it, I enjoyed writing them! Here is the masterpost for all the fills I completed and here is the ao3 link for the whole thing.

Thank again everyone!

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Obi-Wan was playing with Anakin’s children in the sand. The burns along Anakin’s right leg ached, but Obi-Wan’s still-soft laughter was mingling with Leia’s as he sprinkled wet sand on her stomach. Anakin had woken up from another nightmare and had to stay besides the twin’s cribs, kneeling on his knees that were all but destroyed, but Luke was resting his head against Obi-Wan’s chest, Obi-Wan’s left arm wrapping him safely against him.

Anakin has sitting on the small rock cropping just upshore from them. The shadows hadn’t overtaken him in the night, nor when he couldn’t manage the walk down to the beach without support from Obi-Wan—though he had felt Obi-Wan’s arms shaking where they wrapped around him, and thought that maybe they’d both needed the support. He was alive, he had rejected Pal—Darth Sidious. Padmé was healthy and happy, off with Bail and Breha on a diplomatic mission. Obi-Wan, his master, his brother, his children’s godfather, was sitting with both of his children, truly happy for the first time in months.

The peace was too good to last, but Anakin could hope. Finally, he could hope.

He spent most of the next hour just watching, calling down taunts and teasing his old master. When the sun began to set, and the twins were just beginning to get fussy, he got down from the rock onto the sand and gingerly made his way over to them. The wounds from Mustafar weren’t near as bad as they could have been, and when they made themselves known he did his best to mask his pain. Sparing his master the guilt was the least he could do.

Most of the beach had been run smooth by the waves, but the recent storm had unearthed old tree branches and boards from long passed shipwrecks.

He didn’t feel his foot connect with the branch, didn’t really feel the wind rush passed his ears and tangle his hair up around his ears. The landing, however, pushed all the breath from his lungs and he opened his mouth wide, the horrible waiting for his lungs to accept air again tightening the panic in his chest. In no time at all, he was heaving against the sand, breathing it in and not caring because the panic had been unexpected. His legs were twinging and his heart was still pounding when he finally caught his breathe enough to gets his arms beneath him and push himself up. He knelt on his hands and knees for a moment, then realized he wasn’t feeling the hands of his friend on his shoulders, wasn’t hearing the huff of laughter that always came when he did something stupid, and that Obi-Wan’s end of their Force bond was locked down watertight.

Anakin whipped his head up, and what he saw made him loose his breath all over again.

“Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan stared into his eyes, unseeing-- or perhaps seeing Anakin on a different shore altogether. Anakin slowly got up, Obi-Wan’s eyes locked onto him.

“Obi-Wan, we’re on Alderaan,” He stepped closer and closer to Obi-Wan, telegraphing his movements as much as possible. “We’re with Luke and Leia, on the beach down the road from Bail and Breha’s.”

A shudder ran through Obi-Wan that Anakin knew hurt, knew passed through too-tense muscles that had been going through as much healing as Anakin’s. His right hand twitched against his leg, his other still and stiff around—

Shit. The twins.

Leia was still sprinkled with sand, Luke was still nestled against Obi-Wan’s side, twisted now to face Obi-Wan. Their big eyes were wide and watering, and Anakin could feel their distress mounting.

“Obi-Wan, Master look at me.”

Gently, Anakin put his hands on Obi-Wan’s, and despite the flinch, his eyes cleared just enough that Anakin quieted his own panic and pressed his hand against Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

“Let’s sit down for a second, yeah?”

The moment was only the breath between Anakin’s inhale and Obi-Wan’s inhale, but for Anakin it hung on the edge of a knife, teetering between the months they were trying to leave behind them and the hope Anakin so desperately clung to.

“But,” Obi-Wan shakily sighed, brow wrinkling. “But Anakin, you hate sand.”

The laugh tumbled out of him, and through the lifting fog, Obi-Wan began to laugh with him, and Anakin was able to cling to hope for a little longer.

#my fic #for Katie #bthb is done!!#thank you to all who requested!!!#Willow talks

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disneydreamlights · 4 years

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Anidala Fic Recs

I got asked for fic recs for these. NSFW will be in a private post (that I’ll make later GOING THROUGH YOUR AO3 HISTORY IS TEDIOUS) for easy DMing purposes. All recs under a read more.

So first for authors:

Just about anything by SkywalkersAmidala and Gemma’s Writing (@gemmaswriting)

Everything I’ve read by them is absolutely fantastic, and believe me, I’ve read pretty much everything from them. Multiple times in some cases. They’re just very good. SkywalkersAmidala in most cases writes more silly lighthearted AUs and Gemma’s Writing does a bit of everything, all of which are good.

Padme Lives/Anakin Doesn’t Fall:

(Anything on my Vaderdala fic recs list, you need Padme alive for Vaderdala)

Precipice by Shadowsong26

An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall.

(Padme returns to the Senate with Luke, Anakin to lead the Rebels with Leia. Things get better is the absolute best way to summary this one.)

To These Memories by KatieRoseFun

After Darth Sidious is defeated, everything changes. Some for the better, others not so much. Mostly better though. (Or: Anakin becomes a dad. Rex rehabilitates clone troopers who no longer want to be a part of the army. Ahsoka gets a call from an old friend. And maybe Obi-Wan finds out it’s not just his enemies who don’t stay dead. Basically, everyone gets the happy ending they deserve.)

Pocket Full of Sand Verse by Philthestone

Anakin goes missing, Padme is captured, and this causes Leia Skywalker and Luke Amidala to meet.

Clash of Fates by AliceBDS (In Progress)

Sometimes, the course of life is changed with one decision.

When Ahsoka Tano requests the help of her former master in liberating Mandalore, a twist of destiny sends them to Coruscant to rescue Chancellor Palpatine instead, altering the course of galactic history forever.

When Dead Men Walk by Ellapromachos

Anakin hesitates just a few minutes longer, and the entire galaxy is better for it.

or; Anakin is at the Temple for Order 66, but not as Darth Vader. And when Palpatine comes for him, he plays his cards just a little bit better. He digs his heels in, and prepares for the long con.

My Loyalties Lie by Stranestelle (In Progress)

When Anakin initially rejects Palpatine's offer to 'help' him, the Sith Lord, in a rare moment of hastiness, ships him off to Kamino to have a control chip implanted.

Nobody Needs to Know by Elizaham8957

The twins are born in the middle of the Clone Wars, and Anakin and Padmé try to continue hiding the fact that they're married and now have two children.

Nobody buys it. Like, seriously, nobody.

Hunter by Zinoviev

Leia is offered a chance to escape Bespin when Boba Fett enlists her help to prevent Luke from falling into Vader's clutches. She has plenty of questions, however. Who is this mysterious bounty hunter, and what does he want with her friend?

The Bantha in the Room by Estrangedlestrange

concept: anakin sitting in the council room bouncing baby luke on his knees as he adamantly denies having children or attachments

Time Travel:

Stand the Hazard of the Die by KeelieThompson1

Baby Luke is sent back in time by Obi-Wan to the prequel era. Needless to say, things change.

Just One Wish by LadyVader23

On a trip to Dathomir, Anakin Skywalker finds a spell that will grant him one wish. Anxious to return home, he wishes for a way to end the war. As a result, he ends up accidentally kidnapping his future children...moments after they've escaped Bespin. Luke is quite done dealing with his mess of a father, and Leia is convinced telling the future Darth Vader about the future will only make it worse. Desperate, Anakin calls in the only person they might listen to: Padme Amidala. Too bad Padme has a surprise of her own...

Temper With the Stars by Pipionem

After being pulled through the World between Worlds, Ahsoka finds herself in the final days of the Clone Wars, on a Separatist ship holding the recently kidnapped Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. Saving the galaxy from the horrors to come is a lot to get done in a week, but Ahsoka has lost everything before - this time, she won't let that happen. Of course, that doesn't mean it's going to be easy.

Skywalker Family Fics:

Skywalker Family Values by Ariel_Sojourner

Camp Chippewa is proud to be the Empire’s foremost camp resort for privileged young adults. Located on the picturesque forest moon of Endor, your child will have the opportunity to participate in wholesome outdoor activities and socialize appropriately with their peers. We invite your offspring to join us for the experience of a lifetime and a bright future in service of the greater glory of the Empire.

On opposite sides of the galaxy, on opposite sides of a civil war, Darth Vader and Padme Amidala unwittingly send Luke and Leia to the same camp during school break. Chaos naturally ensues.

Mild AU:

Desideratum by Sithanakin (In Progress)

As a young Initiate in the midst of a childish crush, Padmé had always dreamt of Anakin Skywalker becoming her Master. But she was to turn thirteen too early for that to be possible.

Then, at sixteen, she loses her Master in the battle of Geonosis. In the confusion of all her grief, she does not expect newly-knighted Anakin Skywalker to offer to take her on as his Padawan.

The Wise Thing by Stranestelle

Warning: Very dark, not happy ending.

Padmé Amidala may not be all she seems. Anakin Skywalker wears his heart on his sleeve. People have crushes every day, it’s not the end of the world. Is it?

or, if you will, a sith!Padmé AU

Bonded by Betts

(Okay I’ll out myself slightly with smut but just one on my mostly SFW recs.)

Padmé had always been better at the mental half of the Jedi code—coercion, manipulation, meditation. Anakin had always been better at the physical half—beating shit up with his lightsaber.

Heirs to the Empire by Aldojlc

Alternate Universe. En route to Endor, Luke, Leia, and Han during the events of ROTJ find themselves transported into a different universe and a different Empire, with a different Vader.

Heavy AUs:

(it’s not so bad) being dead like me by Estrangedlestrange

Recently deceased Anakin Skywalker (killed in an taco truck explosion) finds himself not in the after life but recruited as the newest member of the undead, he’s become a grim reaper. He’s told that it’s his destiny but really he thinks it’s just rotten luck. Rotten except for the fact that one of his fellow reapers is Padmé Amidala, the most beautiful woman Anakin’s has seen, dead or alive. As he struggles to come to grips with his death and his new role in the universe, Anakin finds that taking souls isn’t the easiest job out there, he also finds himself falling in love.

Skyborn by Silverdaye

Senator Padmé Amidala enjoys spending her time in a bookstore, one made of real flimsi books where each one costs a small fortune. It is there she meets a strange man, Anakin Skywalker, who is searching for long forgotten planet, Kesh. 4,500 years ago a ship crashed on Kesh. The survivors told the natives they were their gods, the Skyborn. Anakin is one of them.

For Even the Very Wise Cannot See All Ends by UncorrectGrammar

When people think of Anakin Skywalker, they think of the Chosen One, the Hero With No Fear. They think of an accomplished duelist, of the best flyer in Hogwarts, of the prophesized savior of the wizarding world.

They don’t think of gardens diligently kept or dirt under fingernails.

Or: Anakin Skywalker and his legacy. Hogwarts AU.

General Prequel Era (Non Anidala Centric, but still contain Anidala)

Like Fire In Our Bones by AcuteNeurosis

With all of the most important things in the galaxy literally exploding around her, Leia is given the chance to go back and help keep a promise she never personally made.

But then, for Skywalkers, saving the galaxy was always a family matter.

Well It Goes Like This by Corde_and_Dorme

At the end of it all, the thing is: Palpatine breaks his heart.

(or the one where Anakin makes the hard choice, the right choice, the other choice. Then he keeps making it.)

Vode An by Epsiloneridani

There are millions of lives on the line, clone and Jedi alike. Every second brings them one step closer to the chip's activation - one step closer to the endgame. The truth is shrouded in secrecy and clouded by doubt. The clock's ticking down.

It's a race against time.

Fives is gone. Echo finds the courage to ask why.

Bonus: ObiAnidala

For We Are A Woven Thread; Find the Strand by Shadowsong26

The night before Obi-Wan was to leave for Utapau, he and Anakin and Padme agreed that, regardless of the Council's orders, Anakin should go as well. They split up over the course of the battle--and when Order 66 is given, they cannot find one another in the chaos; Padme, on Coruscant, is left with the knowledge that neither of them is coming back.

This story covers the next four years in their lives; how they survived and coped with the loss; how they began to fight back--and how they found their way home.

#Star Wars #Anakin #Padme #Anidala

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tvpeongsstuff · 3 years

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Supreme Emperor Obi-Wan Kenobi (part 6)

The stormtroopers flanking Master Unduli drew their blasters and pointed them at her where she was kneeling on the floor. She knocked them back with the force while simultaneously pulling their blasters away from them and jumping up into a defensive stance. Her back was to the wall. The blasters all landed close to her.

"Obi-Wan?" She queried. She sounded calm but Obi-Wan could see the agitation she was venting. "You really need to explain."

Master Unduli looked around warily. Obi-Wan had no doubt that she was looking for an exit and was assessing who the biggest threats were. In no time at all, she turned her full attention to him.

Behind her were the troopers she had knocked down. They were standing back up and dropping into fighting positions, blocking her way out of the main entrance. In front of her were the unconscious guards, Palpatine, and Vader. They had been moved to the bottom of the steps leading up to Palpatine's desk after they had been put in binders. The troopers who had been in the room before she came in had all been milling about finalizing their reports. So, when they turned and raised their blasters at her, they were positioned all over the room. Cody was hugging a crying Appo, in front of the desk, near the chairs where they had done their surgery. The medidroids were hovering above them.

Directly in front of her, Bail was grimacing, clutching his right leg. His foot was bent in a weird way. The ankle looked broken. Obi-Wan absentmindedly reached out with the force and healed it. Bail scrambled out of the way.

Obi-Wan himself was in front of the holoprojector. He was dirty and sweaty. He was sure he smelled. He was missing his outer robes and his over tunic and under tunic were cut and singed in several places that made it obvious he had been in a fight. He had blood stains and grime all over him. Some of the blood had not come from him but most of it had and had not dried yet. The majority of his wounds had only just healed. The force acting without his input to speed up his recovery. He could barely feel them now.

His hair was unkempt, lanky, and flat. He was one adrenaline crash away from collapsing and looked it - strung out and high. His lightsaber was in its usual position in its holster. He had not drawn it nor would he. But, to someone who had been held captive for years, clearly he was the most dangerous adversary in the room.

"All troopers lower your guns and stand down." Immediate obedience. It felt sick and wrong, twisted. Obi-Wan could see how Master Unduli reacted to his control over the clones. She crouched lower to make herself less of a target; her blaster was trained right at him.

"Master Unduli," Obi-Wan started, "You have nothing to fear. You can leave whenever you want. I just ask that you hear me out." He sensed her disbelief. "Here," He took out his lightsaber and placed it on the ground. "Take this."

She did not hesitate. She called the lightsaber to her and used the force to check if it could turn it on. Master Unduli dropped the blaster and took hold of the lightsaber. Obi-Wan could feel a marginal lessening of her fear in the force.

She sighed. Then all at once her fear vanished. She was shielding herself. She put her hand on her stomach but did not come out of her pose. She could move into Shii Cho or Soresu at a moment's notice. He decided to break the news to her in one swift go.

"I'm the emperor now."

"You're the emperor!?" her shock was palpable. It broke through her shields.

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied.

"How!" Master Unduli practically shouted.

"I would also like to know exactly what happened." Bail said.

Obi-Wan felt like he was in a dream. What type of dream? He was unsure. In the back Cody was holding Appo who had collapsed to the ground in a mirror of how he had held Cody minutes? yes, minutes ago. The other troopers were unarmed but definitely ready for a fight. The author of his pain was unconscious at his feet. His beloved monster brother was getting some much needed rest. And, his friends Bail and Luminara were scared of him.

"I will answer all questions but first all troopers except Cody and Appo must leave the room. And, ZT units must power down." He couldn't risk triggering something in the programming of either group that he could not predict. He waited until the troopers were in the outer room and then he closed the door. He had to choose his words carefully.

"I.....Vader was trying to...draw on the power of the darkside in a fight...which knocked out all the darksiders near him. I was able to use a sleep suggestion on him. He was wide open in the force and I was able to direct his powers a little. He's still draining the darksiders. The good news is, it weakened Palpatine enough that I gained access to his mind and saw snippets of what he has done to the Jedi, the clones, and the republic. I also saw a way to fix my most immediate concern at the time. Now I am going to use it to fix everything."

"How were you able to overpower Vader's defenses and get him to go to sleep?" Master Unduli sounded suspicious.

"Is it that difficult?" asked Bail.

"Yes. Unless the person is weak willed, compromised in some way, or trusts you, it is hard to get them to submit their will to yours. The middle of a battle is not a time when anyone would let their guard drop enough for some one else to impose their will on them. How were you able to get Vader to listen to you?" Master Unduli had not moved out of defense at yet. She was holding the saber with both hands. Obi-Wan did not really want to answer that question.

"Easy. Vader is Skywalker" The reply came from an unexpected source. Appo was sitting up. He had stopped crying and was staring at the bodies on the ground. No, he was staring at Vader. Cody looked surprised. He was not the only one.

"No," Master Unduli breathed out. "Skywalker fell? He's Vader? What did he do?" She put her hand back on her belly. Obi-Wan tracked the motion.

"Master Unduli...." he trailed off. She saw where his eyes were focused. She took her hand off her belly and brought it back up to the saber. She squared her shoulders but said nothing else. He did not know how to finish his question. He glanced away shamefacedly.

Before the silence could get too awkward, Bail responded to her questions. "Skywalker fell and led his troops against the temple. He also strangled Senator Amidala. Obi-Wan.."

Commander Appo interrupted him. "He killed Senator Amidala? I thought he loved her!"

Obi-Wan wanted to protest that Anakin did..does love the Padme. He was just lost in the dark. He wouldn't have done any of the things he did if he had been in his right mind. Vader had made a shrine of her tomb. His latest rampage was because Obi-Wan had visited her. But he was afraid that it was a case of someone protesting too much. He wanted to believe that Vader could love but he had no proof.

Appo came into his line of sight followed by Cody. He was still talking. "Why am I so surprised when he knew we were chipped and he left us like that!"

Obi-Wan took a half step back. That hurt to hear.

"Lord Vader," Appo practically growled,"cares for no one and nothing. We trusted him. He made us think that we were people when he knew we were no better than meat droids! He ordered us to kill children for him! To kill friends! To kill other vod! The Senator trusted him! He was probably controlling her too! She broke free of his mind control and he killed her! He killed her!"

Commander Appo was shaking, he was so angry. He was laser-focused on Vader. Cody was also angry but it was tempered by concern for his brother. Turning to Bail he asked,

"Did you see him do it? Perhaps there is another reason she died. Would he really have hurt his pregnant wife?" Nobody looked surprised. That relationship and marriage really was the worst kept secret on Coruscant.

"I wasn't there Commander but Obi-Wan was. He tried to stop him and their fight put Vader in that suit."

Everyone turned to look at him. Obi-Wan knew what they could see in face, read in his posture. He knew he was venting grief, horror, and despair into the force. Poor Master Unduli, she should not have to feel this. Nobody should feel this. Obi-Wan needed to bury his emotions deep behind his shields until he fixed everything.

"The suit?" Luminara queried. Obi-Wan wanted to look at her. She was curious but she was projecting so much calmness into the force. He wanted to walk up to her and ask her to meditate with him but..his complicated feelings, her condition; it was probably not a good idea. She should not have to comfort him. Just this once he had to be the strong one.

"He needs it to breathe and move. I believe he's a cyborg now." Obi-Wan's voice was monotonous. He had to hold it together.

"Like Grievous? Is that why he felt the need to rely on such extreme measures to beat you this time?" Master Unduli asked.

"Yes...Maybe," Obi-Wan knew he had to explain but thinking of the lengths his padawan went to to kill him made him nauseous.

"Why didn't you kill him? Why don't you kill him now?" Commander Appo was so angry.

"I...couldn't" Obi-Wan wanted to say he thought he had. He couldn't land the killing blow but who survives dismemberment and falling into lava?

"Of course you couldn't! He's your vod. But I feel nothing but loathing for him. I'll do it. you don't know half stuff he's made us do. I'll be happy to do it." Commander Appo said.

To this, at least, Obi-Wan had a response. "I'm sorry Commander, we can't kill him. Without him all the darksiders will wake up. Sidious will wake up and raise his shields. We will lose access to his mind. We have an opportunity now to fix everything. But I can't do it alone. I will need all of your help."

Not the most impassioned of pleas but it was all that he had.

#Supreme Emperor Obi-Wan Kenobi #au #fic #fixit #post order 66 #obi wan kenobi #luminara unduli #bail organa #commander cody #commander appo #star wars

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detroitbydark · 4 years

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Previous part (as well as fan art and fic?!) can be found here

Chp 12

Character: Commander Fox x Mouse (reader), Padme Amidala, Bail Organa

Warnings: idiots in love, mild pining

Summary: The one where Fox knows what to expect but is still incensed when it happens. Bail Organa is a good bro to everyone. Padme Amidala is rocking motherhood and is not so subtle in her matchmaking attempt.

A/N: I apologized in advance but your gonna see that I'm working to make things better I promise! As always thanks to my lovelies @skdubbs @crimson-dxwn and @thelastbattlecry for being my sounding boards/betas/listening ears.

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Naboo was beautiful. Not in the way that a rare gem or a fancy painting was, where one appreciated their grandeur because that was expected. Where they were looked at clinically and picked apart for sport.

No, Naboo was beautiful in a way that made Mouse's heart clench. The overwhelming majesty of the lakes and waterfalls bringing a tear to her eyes the first time she’d laid eyes on them. She’d never seen so much water, so much green. She could scarcely believe she wasn’t experiencing a fever dream in the claustrophobic bacta tank back on Coruscant. Even now, after two months, the view from the Naberrie’s Lake home (more like a palace than any home Mouse has ever imagined) gave her pause.

It was, in short, heaven.

The summer months had left the temperature near to perfect and the waters had receded from the great pastoral valleys, leaving them open for exploration, picnics and gathering wildflowers.

Mouse found herself sleeping most nights with the door to the small balcony off her room open, the not so far-off sound of running water lulling her to sleep. The nightmares had not gone, a twisted version of a reality she’d lived, but she rarely woke up screaming anymore. Instead she came to with a racing heart and thin sheen of sweat decorating her skin. She was haunted by the voice of Palpatine, the flash of light as Fox fires on her, the image of him being lifted and strangled by the force wielding Anakin Skywalker. It still happens like clockwork, the dreams. She just no longer has it in her to scream.

The senator had noticed the deep circles under her eyes quickly. She was a good woman, Padmé, and while Mouse was unsure whether she’d call her a friend just yet she did know she enjoyed speaking with her. Upto the birth of the babies, they’d taken daily walks, short sojourns along the estate’s lands. It was often the time Padmé had her husband speaking with his healer. Mouse was eternally grateful, as she wasn’t comfortable in the Jedi’s presence. To have him walking with them through the millaflower fields would have soured the experience. She liked to think Padmé realized such things without her saying it. When she did speak of her husband, there was a carefulness to her words, as if she had to think each one out to paint him in his best light. Mouse hasn’t spoken about Fox to anyone, and she wonders if she did would she feel the need to tread carefully? She doesn’t think she would.

Mouse's relationship with Padmé changes after the birth of the babies a short two months after their arrival.

Luke and Leia join the galaxy on a stiflingly hot night during high summer. Heat lightning flashes and grumbles in the distance as the doctor works to bring the children safely into the world. They hadn’t planned for two. Anakin paced the room, like an agitated Nexu, checking in with his wife after each pass. Staff and visitors were at a minimum, so Mouse volunteered to help as she could. It was still a state of the art set-up, one fit for a former queen, senator, and much loved daughter of Naboo. There was little to be done but sit at the Senator’s side and blot her head with a cool cloth while she worked, grunting and pushing through the labor like tackling an obstacle in her way on the senate floor.

Leia comes first, a squalling indignant thing already full of life and the need to tell everyone about it. The nurse attending offers her to Anakin while Padmé continues to labor. Mouse sees the fear in his eyes as he shakes his head, his eyes already trailing back to his wife. Mouse holds the bundle of blankets and moves out of the way, gesturing for the young Jedi to take her place near his wife.

“She needs you.” She says softly, fighting back the urge to tremble in his presence.

“Ani?” Padmé’s voice rings out, for the first time uncertain. That’s all Skywalker needs to go to her side.

Mouse watches as he takes her hand in his, kisses her fingers, tells her she’s doing great, that she’ll be fine. It feels voyeuristic watching them so she focuses on the little girl in her arms, who stares up with bright blue eyes. Mouse melts.

Luke is the wildcard, the surprise no one knew to expect. He’d been hiding behind his sister until just days ago when her last scan had shown an extra heartbeat and an extra head. Now he was malpositioned and the doctor has to manually correct it. Padmé makes an awful, wounded noise but pushes nonetheless when she’s finally given the clear to. The boy makes his entrance as a bolt of lightning cuts through the sky and the lights flicker. He’s quiet, and smaller than his minutes-older sister. There’s a tense period where he makes no sound at all, and a collective breath is held until he begins to make a soft plaintive noise before he’s laid against his mother’s chest. Mouse offers the wrapped baby to the nurse and she soon joins her brother. Mouse has to turn away as Anakin leans in and kisses his wife.

When she sleeps that night there is no nightmare. She dreams of her own swollen belly, a baby kicking away while Fox’s strong arms wrap around her middle and hold her protectively. She can feel his full lips as they press against her temple. She can feel the rumble of his voice.

The beginning of our family, cyar’ika.

She wakes with a choked sob and doesn’t sleep the rest of the night.

—-

“Run it by me again, Chancellor.”

It felt like they’d been in the black forever. The jump to the small outer rim was no milk run. Fox glances out the window again as they break atmo and the black of space turns to the bright blue of Naboo’s sky. He was ready to be off the ship. He’d never tell his brothers, would rather die than admit it, but he hated hyperspace travel. It wasn’t just the jump in or the fall out of it either. It was the whole damn thing. It was unnatural. He was meant to have his feet on terra and that was all there was to it.

The itinerary had them making a quick stop in Theed to take on supplies, then another bit of travel - this time in the blue instead of the black - to reach their destination, the Lake District.

“Commander, relax. This is a pleasure cruise,” Bail enthuses smoothly, “nothing to worry about.”

“Then why me and not one of the other boys? Thire would have been fine for this.”

Bail rolls his eyes. “Thire is a stick in the mud and I much prefer your company and conversation.” Bail explains “I’m going to spend a couple days doting on my new godchildren and discussing a few matters with their lovely Senator mother, some of which you may have strong opinions about that deserve being heard.”

The last bit grabs Fox’s attention. “I don’t remember that being mentioned.”

“Oh I didn’t mention that some of your brothers will be meeting us for an impromptu - and off the books - meeting on clone personhood?”

Fox purses his lips undercover of his bucket. “No you hadn’t sir.”

Fox had learned quickly that Bail Organa’s style of governance was worlds different from the previous chancellors. The secrets Sidious kept had been dangerous to the republic, his vode and the Jedi in particular while Bail’s all seemed fairly benign and were really only used to surprise and throw Fox from a dour mood.

“Well it seems I must have forgotten to put it on the official itinerary for our visit.” The older man’s eyes sparkle with mischief.

“It seems you did, sir. I suppose it’s already been planned. It would be a shame to lose out on such an important meeting.”

Personhood. That was one of those dreams all clones shared but few ever mentioned. It seemed silly that it should even be an issue to begin with. If none survived the war it was a useless conversation to have, wasn't it? Now, with Sidious no longer pulling his dark strings, the Seppies were beginning to fall apart. They’d already fallen on Felucia and Utapau. General Grievous was dead and Count Dooku had gone to ground, but he couldn’t stay hidden forever. Maybe the idea of life after war wasn’t such a dream. It was tangibly within reach.

“Who’s joining us for this little shindig?”

Bail smirks again, “I’ve left the guest list to the Marshall Commander’s discretion.”

Fox can’t hide the excitement in his voice, “Cody?” It has been ages since he’d seen his ori’vod. Before the second battle of Geonosis and well before Mouse had -

Mouse.

Because that was a wound that refused to heal. Kriff - it wouldn’t even scab over! It merely festered and hurt like nothing else Fox had ever felt. Whoever had said out of sight, out of mind needed to keep their head on a swivel because Fox was pretty sure if he ever saw them he’d break their jaw.

Mouse was still a guest of the Senator’s. He wasn’t proud to say he’d been keeping tabs, but it was one of the only things that kept his anxiety at bay when it came to her. Unlike with Fives, the bottle didn’t seem to do it. The pair of times he’d taken to finding out what was in the bottom of a bottle of Corellian whiskey he’d found nothing but nightmares and guilt.

Bail gives him a smile as the ship comes in for a landing, the capital of Theed rising up around them, always warm and inviting.

Fox vows to try not to think of seeing Mouse. He breaks it in five minutes.

——

To say Padmé Amidala’s wardrobe was expansive was an understatement. Like saying Coruscant was home to a lot of people.

What had once been an entire guest suite had been turned into a makeshift dressing room and closet for the former queen. Padmé was unapologetic in regards to the sheer amount of clothing she possessed, explaining that it had been expected she never wear the same outfit twice and that, honestly, she just really liked clothes.

It made her more human in Mouse’s eyes, less like the self-possessed politician and more like the young woman she was underneath all the finery.

Mouse supports little Leia’s head as she dozes in the sling across her chest while Padmé does the same, bouncing slightly from side to side on her toes to calm a fussy Luke.

“How about this one?” Padmé questions, pointing to an ornate, layered gown. It reminds Mouse of a confection, fluffy and frosted with layers upon layers of petal pink fabric.

“A bit much for a dinner party? You think?”

Mouse had never had much in the way of fine things, had never really needed them, but when Padmé mentioned that the new Chancellor would be coming and she would really like her to come to the dinner she’d had Mouse help plan, well she really couldn’t say no. Now it was important to find something to wear. It seemed since Padmé was not quite ready to leave the concealing gowns of her early pregnancy behind, Mouse bore the burden of her need to dress and accessorize.

Padmé hums quietly to Luke as he begins to drift off. “You’re probably right. Maybe something a little smaller, more cocktail appropriate?”

Mouse isn’t entirely sure what that entails but she nods in agreement. She’s discovered that even a month and a half postpartum Padmé was still a force to be reckoned with when she got on something. Motherhood hadn’t softened her drive - if anything, it had brought it to new heights as she made plans and strived to make the galaxy a place where her children could grow and thrive.

They’d been spending more time together, Mouse becoming a makeshift mother’s helper while Padmé balanced new motherhood and keeping up with her senatorial duties. Anakin, Padmé had confided, was slow to take to fatherhood and while he seemed to love the twins, he became frustrated easily. He’d increased his visits with the healer, but Padmé wondered if part of it was the loss of Jedi Order. General Kenobi had visited a handful of times since they’d arrived, but Padmé worried it wasn’t the same.

She didn’t mention Sidious but when she spoke of betrayal and upheaval Mouse knew what she spoke of.

She felt bad thinking it, but Mouse wasn’t unhappy with the children’s father’s absence. His nearness to her still left her uncomfortable and remembering the way his eyes had glowed amber and the hate that had been etched into his features as he’d used the force to-

“Remind me again why this is important?” she asks as the new mother begins pulling out more dresses. Mouse works Leia from the sling and cradles her near while she ambles over to her nearby bassinet. Leia was the simpler of the two babies while Luke seemed to require a bit more coddling from his mother. She wondered in the personality differences between the two. She places a thin blanket over the sleeping babe before going back to the pile of dresses that had been laid out.

She holds a deep emerald green dress in front of her and Padme's brows knit together assessingly. “Next,” she chirps as Mouse grabs a blue dress that shimmers in the light flooding through the room's large windows. “Maybe pile. Definitely. Tonight is important because I said it’s important,” Padmé says digging back in the closet. “Obi and Cody arrived earlier this morning.” She glances one more time before sitting on a nearby settee. Luke is awake and beginning to fuss and Padmé quickly works open the front of her dress to allow the hungry infant to nurse. “Have you met General Secura?”

Mouse shakes her head ‘no.’ She’d heard of the twi’lek though and wonders if she might ask her some questions she had. She’d begun sponsoring little Me’kar and wondered what it would take to keep a child of another species in touch with her own heritage if she were to be adopted by a human. Not that she’d been thinking about adoption-

“You’ll like her. Her Commander Bly will be with her. They’re very… close.”

Mouse can read between the lines. Close. Close like she and Fox had been maybe? More so? She’d heard battle forged bonds that were unbreakable, maybe it also could form a love connection that could withstand the burdens of both war and the Jedi’s vows.

She and Fox hadn’t had anything so deep.

She tries the lie on herself again. It still doesn’t sit true. Maybe another hundred times and she’d start believing it.

“The Chancellor will be here in a few hours-“ As Padmé continues to speak, Mouse digs through the pile. A red dress, slick and satin smooth catches her eyes. The skirt feels cool under her fingers. Padmé stops mid sentence as Mouse works it from the pile. The neck is scooped shallow from shoulder to shoulder across where her collar bone would be and a thin golden chain connects the apex of the straps and offers to drape and dip low between her shoulder blades. It would do little to hide the scars on her left arm and shoulder, but Mouse wasn’t self conscious of them the way most would think. Though she could never speak of their true nature she didn't once regret them.

“- seven hells... I forgot about that one. It’s perfect,” Padmé enthuses, again reminding Mouse of truly how close in age they actually were. “Please, pick that one?” Luke grumbles as his mother’s bouncing interrupts his meal. “Hush sweetling,” she soothes.

“It is very pretty.” Mouse hums quietly as she holds the dress in front of her and turns in front of the mirror.

“Some earrings, a pendant maybe… oh a tiara!”

“Earrings will be fine I think.” Mouse can feel her cheeks heating up. Padmé chuckles softly. “What’s so funny?”

“I just realized that color matches the Coruscant Guard colors perfectly. I wonder what Commander Fox will think of it?”

Mouse feels the color drain from her face. Her voice comes out as an ungainly wheeze, “Fox?”

“Yeah, have you met?” Padmé is giving her a wondering look. “He’s not as bad as people make him out to be.”

“Oh- uh- we’ve met.”

“Really?”

There’s a twinkle in the senator’s eye, something that clues Mouse into the fact that the woman in front of her just maybe wasn’t as clueless to the state of her relationship with the Guard Commander as she let on.

“It’ll be nice to catch up or something won’t it?”

Mouse nods. Or something.

——

Fox feels a little cheated. All the times he’d accompanied Senator Amidala to her home world not once had she brought him to the Lake District. The Chancellor looks at home, unswayed by the beauty as he marches through the open halls with confidence. Maybe it was because he was Alderaanian, Fox thinks. He’s never seen the Chancellor’s home but he’d heard its beauty was unrivaled. After taking a glance out the tall transparisteel window looking out directly at one of a half dozen waterfalls he’s sure that it can’t be true.

“Sir? Should we wait for an escort?” Fox asks as Bail takes a sharp turn down another hall.

“No worries, Commander. If I know Padmé she’ll have set up shop in her office. The day is still young and she’ll be hard at work.”

“Sir, she’s just had a baby- two babies. Surely she’ll be taking it easy.”

Bail barks out a very unchancellor like laugh before he levels his eyes at Fox. “If she’s not in her office, I’ll eat my boots for dinner.”

“Laces and all?” Fox can’t help the way the corner of his mouth draws up, though he tries to smother it. Bail raps the back of his knuckles twice across the armor of Fox’s chest before pointing one finger at his face, his own smile broad and for the world to see.

“See, I knew that stick wasn’t as far up your ass as everyone says.”

“Don’t go telling everyone. I’ve got a image to maintain.”

Bail’s bark of laughter echoes down the hall. “And this is why you’re here and not Thire.”

It was new and fascinating to see the Chancellor in this different light, more relaxed than he ever was on Coruscant with its many eyes and wagging tongues. Not for the first time since he’s begun working closely with the Alderaanian, Fox thinks that he truly does enjoy his company.

Fox adjusts his bucket under his arm, hesitates for a moment as to whether he should replace it or continue to carry it. He’s not sure of the proper protocol in this situation. It was one he’d never been prepped for back on Kamino. What was one to do when addressing a senator on maternity leave in her palatial lake house?

He decides to leave it off and immediately wishes he’d put it on as they push through large wooden doors into the senators office. Like everything else, it’s beauty is unimagined. Sumptuous wooden bookcases filled with flimsy tomes fill the shelves, natural light spills in from windows showing off a pristine late afternoon lake with the sun just beginning to set behind the waterfalls surrounding it.

All of that fails to capture his attention because there’s his Mouse swaying gently from side to side smiling down at a cooing baby. Her hair pulled back into a messy bun with tiny tendrils escaping, framing her face in fly-aways.

Karking Naboo could get sucked up by a black hole for all he cares. Mouse is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen bathed in the warm glow of late afternoon sun spilling across the room.

She looks so relaxed, so natural cooing to the infant in her arms - until she looks up and catches him staring.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting but it wasn’t the look of surprise, her eyes thrown wide before cool indifference washes over her.

This wasn’t a holoromance. She wasn’t going to run into his arms and he wasn’t going to dip her low, kiss her passionately, and promise undying love. Not that he hadn’t thought it in that perfect split second moment of her inattention.

She holds the baby close, protectively as Bail moves to embrace Senator Amidala, herself holding an infant.

“Bail!” The young senator’s smile could light the senate halls for a standard rotation. “It’s so good to see you. I was just finishing up.” Fox pulls his eyes away from Mouse long enough to assess the amount of flimsy and datapads stacked across the senators desk. She was nowhere near done.

“And Commander Fox!”

He startles slightly as the petite force of nature insinuates herself in front of him.

“I’m so glad you could make it. Have you seen Cody yet? I know he was pleased when he heard you’d come.”

Fox shakes his head, his eyes drawing magnetically back to Mouse. He used to be able to read her like one of the flimsy books on the senators shelves but now? Now he doesn’t know what he’s seeing, a whole new language he has no experience translating .

“Commander” she offers after a moment, her voice tight but bright in a forced kind of way, “it’s good to see you. You look well.”

Fox swallows hard. “As do you. I hope your stay has been well?”

The infant in her arms turns and roots against the top of the plain dress she’s wearing and Mouse turns her attention away from him, mumbling some pleasantry dismissively. It feels like a slap in the face.

“I’ve got nothing for you sweet girl.” She hums to the baby who is beginning to make plaintive, angry noises, “Padmé I believe miss Leia is hungry again.”

The senator sighs quietly before moving to swap children. She looks at the two men in her presence. “You’ll have to excuse my children,” she jokes, “they don’t know the meaning of office hours yet.”

Bail gives a hearty laugh. “I’m shocked, with you as their mother.”

“They must get it from their Dad,” she offers cheekily, “Boundaries are not his strong point.” Fox watches as Mouse heads for the door with the other infant.

“I think I’ll go deposit this one in bed. Maybe he’ll get some sleep without his sister pestering him.”

Padmé nods as Mouse leaves and Fox fights the urge to follow after her. Like a child himself, he wants her attention. He runs a hand through his hair roughly as he watches the empty door frame willing her to come back. They could try again, start from scratch. He would put himself on his knees and beg for her forgiveness.

Something angry flares in his chest.

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard didn’t beg. No, Commander Fox was the man everyone looked to for leadership. He would not beg. He’d stand in front of her and dress her down like one of his petulant kits.

She didn’t get to just walk away from him, give him the cold shoulder. Did she not realize he sacrificed a bit of his soul just to send her here? That the wound it left became a little more infected each day?

No, she probably didn’t. She’d obviously moved on and he was the one that was left idling in the past.

——-

“Bail already knows his way around the estate, obviously.” Padmé laughs. The chancellor had excused himself a short while before and blatantly refused Fox when he’d attempted to follow after.

“I’m an old man,” he’d said though he was nowhere near the age Fox would seem old , “and I need a nap and a holo with my wife, neither of which I need your supervision for.”

That left Fox in the senator’s good company as she led him through various halls to the guest wing. Wonder that! A whole wing set aside for people who didn’t even live there. For a clone who’d spent the better part of his life bunking with dozens of brothers, the thought was beyond what he could comprehend.

Padmé readjusts the baby in her arms not for the first time as they talk.

“I could take the little biter for a few minutes if you’d like.” He offers not thinking she’ll take him up on the offer. Who would let a clone handle a baby that was damn near galactic royalty?

Apparently, Padmé Amidala.

“Oh that would be amazing!” She stops and turns toward him and before Fox really has a clear idea of what’s going on, he’s got an arm full of ik’aad.

Fox freezes for a moment and stares down at the little face staring back at him. Her eyes have a depth, he thinks, far beyond her few months. When he looks back to her mother, the senator is stretching her arms with a contented smile. Leia squirms in his grip.

“Well hello princess” he murmurs softly as he cradles her closer. She offers a gummy yawn in return and Fox is surprised he doesn’t melt into a puddle right there.

Padmé claps quietly. “Oh! You’re a natural!”

Fox gives her a lopsided smile. “She’s a baby, not a thermal detonator.”

When he glances up Fox sees just a flash, a far-off look in the senator's eyes. “You’d be surprised to know not everyone takes to it so easily. Maybe you’re just meant to be a father?”

“Padmé, you know that-“

“Screw the regulations,” she says with a steel to her voice he’s only heard a handful of times, “You’re not a droid. You're not a thing, and if it’s the last thing I do, the Republic will do right by the men we’ve made fight our war.”

Fox raises a brow. “You know, I was going to say it usually requires a partner to have a baby.”

Padmé’s face flushes a pretty shade of pink. “Well at least you know where I stand.”

“With all due respect, I’ve always known where you stood.”

The pair continue down the hall taking a sharp right before Padmé is pointing to a door.

“This one is yours,” she states as Fox begrudgingly passes Leia back to her mother. There was something incredibly soothing about holding the little girl and he misses that feeling the moment she’s gone.

Padmé points at other doors down the hall. “Commander Bly, General Secura, General Kenobi, Marshall Commander Cody…” she rattles off, pointing to a seperate room for each. She does a lousy job of biting back a smile as she points to the last door, conveniently across from his own. “Our little Mouse.”

Fox can’t help but shake his head. “I feel like I’m being set up.”

“You are,” Padmé agrees sagely.

“I regret to inform you, after earlier, I believe that ship has really and truly sailed, hit hyperspace even.”

Padmé gives him a skeptical look before peeking down at her daughter. “Men are the silliest creatures,” she educates the infant before glancing back up at Fox, “but not all of them are lost causes.”

Fox chuffs softly.

“I was once told that the Force controls everything around us,” Padmé says earnestly, “but as I’ve grown I’m not sure that’s true.”

He’ll bite. “Well what mystical force controls our destinies then?”

“Hope, Commander. All life,” she looks down at her daughter, her eyes shining when she looks back up, “is built on hope.”

#fox and mouse #commander fox/reader #commander fox #cc 1010 #tcw #star wars

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