Set in my SW Role Reversal verse.
Apr. 30th, 2011 09:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyofleithianTitle: The Son of the Suns
Summary: After the duel on Bespin, Anakin tries to cope with the revelation of his parentage.
Warnings: Other than some rusty writing skills reemerging, Anakin angst, Palpatine being a good guy in this AU (oh dear), and some adult/slashy undertones (including potentially triggering material), nothing much.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Really.
Rating: R, just in case.
Anakin Skywalker didn’t like to dream.
When he dreamed, he saw Bespin again: hanging from it, lips parched, strength giving out, wishing somehow that the Force would take him so this misery, so this monstrosity would be over. Hanging from Bespin by naught by his feet, crying out for anyone – Han, Padmè, Palpatine – to save him.
When he dreamed, he saw Vader, looming over him on Bespin, saber humming at his throat. You are beaten. It is useless to resist. Don’t be destroyed like the rest of your filthy kind.
When he dreamed, he heard the rumbles of Vader’s voice informing him that somehow, Vader was his father, and everything Han and the others had told him had been a lie.
And yet, somehow, he couldn’t stop himself from dreaming.
You can’t avoid dreaming.
When he dreamed, he saw the monster that used to be Luke, leering at him. We are all our worst enemies, Anakin Skywalker. Even stars burn out...
And when he woke, he would see Padmè, standing over him, refusing to leave his side – for that, he was grateful, but somehow, he wished she didn’t stay. She doesn’t need to see this. Padmè had had enough darkness in her life without one of her dearest friends succumbing to the pain of Vader’s constant atrocities.
***
Another dream.
His father, boyish face haggard with care and worry, marching on the Jedi Temple on Coruscant with stormtroopers backing him up. The younglings, pleading with him to save them – only for him to cut them down like animals.
Han Solo, normally cocky face twisted with grief as he viewed the recordings: “It can’t be...”
“Destroy the Sith we must.” Yoda’s voice. How could he be so irrationally calm about one of his former students killing millions? Killing his own comrades? Had he seen too much of it already, like those...Vong Wars he told Anakin about once?
***
They still wouldn’t let him get out of bed. Hell, they wouldn’t even let him write a word – they might as well have imprisoned him. They meant well, naturally, but Anakin was reluctant to lie still. If they’d let him go out and fly amongst the stars without fear of his fath – no, Vader – finding him, he’d probably be better. But no – he was shut in, behind those alabaster walls, in a prison they’d adjusted to suit his... “problems”, as they’d so kindly referred to them as.
Even getting up to watch the sunset on Yterria would be better than nothing.
***
Vader always lies, Vader always lies...
He’d adopted this mantra to ward off the nightmares and the fears that continued to plague him. He’d adopted it to try, at the very least, to stop the emptiness in him. To clog it – but it wasn’t like it would work.
Still, he had to try.
Do or do not. There is no try.
Anakin smiled to himself. Yoda’s advice – and Palpatine’s and Han’s – also managed to stop the pain a bit. Not that it counted for much
i should be out doing something productive, not being a burden to the Rebellion
but it was enough to help him keep breathing.
Especially after last night’s dream.
It wasn’t the familiar dreams he was used to – the burning Temples, the confiscated Jedi holocrons and lightsaber crystals and oh Force all that history gone to waste, amongst so many others – but a more...pleasant one. In an awful way.
“I was thinking of going to Deralia. You know, just to get away from everything. Get away from it all.” The woman turned to look at Luke, and she was beautiful, with red-gold hair and green eyes – radiant as the sunlight. “What do you think?”
His father smiled, and somehow, he was more radiant than Anakin could have ever imagined. “That would be...wonderful.”
“Maybe after the war’s over. When things have settled down.” Mara sighed and turned back to the city skyline, still damaged from the Vong attacks. “He deserves better than a life during wartime...”
“We all do, Mara. We all do.”
Luke’s hand went to her shoulder, and she smiled – and in his father’s eyes, Anakin could see that look – the same thing he felt around Padmè – that somehow, she was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen and no one could truly compare.
No one ever would.
“I doubt this darkness will endure.”
And he rested his cheek on the crown of her head, and blond hair mingled with red hair as they relaxed in one another’s company. Somehow, everything the Vong had done – everything the Corellian Confederacy of Independent Systems had done – didn’t matter. They had one another, and that was all that truly mattered.
All that would ever matter.
When Anakin awoke, he felt sick – sweating, hot and cold at the same time – and he’d stumbled blindly towards the fresher, vomiting twice into it.
Damn them.
Damn him.
His father had thrown this away. All for power. All for...something that wasn’t worth all the murders and lies to get to the top.
His father would never do something like this.
A cold clarity came through the nausea – Vader always lies.
Vader was selfish.
Luke was selfless.
And somehow, that helped reassure him.
Vader always lies, Vader always lies...
And crouched in the corner of the fresher, knees curled up to his chest like a small child’s – somehow, Anakin Skywalker believed it.
***
Vader always lies –
need him, need him now –
always lies –
need him –
“You shouldn’t be out of bed, Anakin. You’re not quite well.”
It was four one hundred, after another nightmare and series of vomiting spells
kriffing Vong
when Anakin looked up to see the former Supreme Chancellor of Naboo standing over him in the doorway, as well as Padmè, and Obi-Wan, and Jar-Jar...how had they found him?
Then again, he guessed he shouldn’t be surprised. They always seemed to know where to find him. Always.
“I’m...perfectly fine,” he said. At least in body. He was beginning to become accustomed to his mechanical hand – perhaps the last gift from his dear father.
No. He’s not your father. Luke Skywalker couldn’t have been this beast.
Vader always lies...
“Chancellor,” he added. “Are you well?”
The Chancellor gave him a gentle smile. “Would you prefer I called you ‘Knight Skywalker’ or ‘Master Jedi’?”
“Not quite.”
He wasn’t a Jedi. Not exactly. He hadn’t passed his trials – he’d been stupid enough to run away. Stupid enough to believe the lies that Vader was feeding him about Padmè and the others being in danger – couldn’t live without them, couldn’t bear to see them die, not after Shmi and the others had died –
I want, I need –
Vader always lies...Vader always lies...
“Then,” Palpatine said, “Why refer to me as Chancellor? We are friends now, are we not?”
Anakin could still remember when they’d met in that bar on Ord Mantell, when Palpatine, under the guise of Wanderer, had saved his life from Boba Fett. He could still remember Palpatine’s words when they’d first met – you draw too much attention to yourself, Knight Skywalker, and somehow, they managed to sting. A bittersweet sting, but still a sting.
You draw too much attention to yourself...
Vader had been able to track him. Feel his thoughts. If he hadn’t saved the Falcon...
He took a deep breath. “Right. Sorry.” Somehow, Vader seemed to have shaken him. “What do you want?”
“Merely to check on your well-being. How is your hand?”
“It...works.” Indeed, it was at the very least functional, and could give him a facsimile of what he used to experience back when he had a flesh hand – a weak facsimile, but indeed a facsimile – and despite its ugliness, it...at the very least, it beat having a stump where his hand used to be.
And perhaps that was one of the only good things that came out of Bespin.
Yoda. Can you ever forgive me?
But the Jedi Master was far away. Probably sharing some juma with Han – could Force Ghosts drink juma? – as they continued to bitch about his recklessness.
Somehow, that made Anakin smile a little more as well. Patience had never been his strong suit. If he’d been in the Old Order back then, he mused, he wouldn’t have done very well.
Perhaps that’s what made my fath – Vader – fall?
“Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?”
“Yes,” the Chancellor said, “Plenty of things.”
Already, Anakin was impatient. “Could you get straight to the point?” His voice came out more edged than he intended, to the point that C-3PO seemed ready to intervene, only for Palpatine to reassure the protocol droid that things were perfectly under control.
“Very well,” he said. “Your mental shielding...is it functional?”
He must know about my nightmares. “Not very,” Anakin said. No matter what happened, the dreams kept getting through. It was like Vader could...track him.
We are, after all...bonded.
“What truly happened on Bespin, my boy? What truly happened?”
Anakin looked from him to Jar-Jar to Padmè to Obi-Wan, and took a deep breath.
“I’d...prefer not to talk about it.”
“If it’s hurting you, Anakin, I believe we have a right to hear it.”
“You mean if it could hold up the mission.”
Beat.
“You value yourself far too little for your own good.”
Under normal circumstances, Anakin would have laughed. Now, however, he could only offer a fake smile, before sobering.
“I failed.”
His voice came out weak, shaky.
“What do you mean?” Padmè sounded worried, almost insistent. “You saved our lives! If it weren’t for you, we would have been in the clutches of the Empire by now.”
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
Inside, he could still feel Vader’s voice creeping like poison through his veins. We can destroy Lumiya. It is your destiny. Join me, and we can rule the galaxy – make things the way we want them to be!
And his father, standing on some fiery planet, making the same offer to his mother. The way we want things to be...
He swallowed back the bile. “I was tricked. Vader...he was using you as bait to find me, and I walked into his trap. I nearly put you in danger...”
Obi-Wan’s chuckle interrupted him. “Anakin,” he said, “Do you think you’re responsible for me nearly being frozen in carbonite?”
“If I weren’t with you – ’’
“If not for you,” Padmè said, “I would have died back on the Death Star. You know this, don’t you?”
“That’s not what I meant!” Force, didn’t they understand? “Vader’s hunting you because of me!”
“He was hunting us far before that,” Palpatine said. “He and Lumiya would never stop until we were dead, imprisoned, or turned. You know this.”
“And now that I’m here, it’s even worse!”
Silence.
“Anakin,” Padmè said, ever so gently. “What’s really wrong?”
“I just told you!”
“What did he do to you?”
And Anakin paused.
Even now, the memories were coming back. Vader, richly hissing to him, taunting him, tempting him, wanting him.
“Only as much as he had to.”
He took a deep breath; how was he going to explain this to them? He could already see Jar-Jar visibly drooping in disappointment, Padmè turning away from him once and for all as something unclean, the Rebel Alliance exiling him to some forbidden planet with some sort of hostile atmosphere...
And Vader’s voice. Serpentine. Beautiful. Engulfing him in darkness. He looked from Palpatine to Jar-Jar for some trace of Anakin Skywalker in their eyes, for some clues about how he was supposed to act
silly, serious, impulsive, careful
but he saw none.
The best he could do was tell the truth.
“He’s my father, Padmè.”
And he waited for her reaction: accusing, condemnatory – but none came. She merely seemed to be watching him, waiting, anxiously, for him to continue.
And then, “Oh.”
“He’s my father. My father – the exterminator of millions. He killed so many Jedi – even the younglings. No one escaped – they were destroyed if they didn’t fit him and Lumiya’s ‘grand vision’. ‘A galaxy without sin’, that’s what she said to him. So the Jedi had to die. And then he killed my mother on top of that. He’s not...he could never...” His voice trailed off; somehow, he had run out of words.
Padmè’s voice was gentle. “You’re not like him, Anakin. You know this.”
“But what happened with the Death Star...the first Death Star...”
“You did what you could,” Palpatine said. “Do you know how many planets you saved from having the same fate as Naboo?”
How can he talk so calmly about his planet being destroyed?
Jar-Jar. Padmè. Palpatine. Obi-Wan. He doubted they would have come together if not for Naboo – whether it used to be their home or if it was their sense of right that allowed them to endure beyond all hope, they’d bonded. The most unlikely of comrades – the mightiest of forces.
At the very least, he would have remembered it if not for what he’d seen – if I’d – he –
“It’s not just that,” he said. “It’s...”
He wanted to rage. He wanted to scream. And yet somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to do that.
“How could you speak so calmly about this when you have a monster in your midst?”
“Anakin – ’’ Padmè began.
“Do you even see what I see when I close my eyes?” Anakin snapped. “I see Han pleading with my father to see reason.” There. My father. I said it. Somehow, it was a relief. No, Vader lies –
always lies –
“I see Han leaving my father to burn on the lava bank instead of firing a damn blaster bolt into his head!”
“Anakin, please – ’’
“All because of the Will of the Force!” Anakin laughed harshly; it didn’t sound like himself. “Instead of shooting him, he let Vader fully materialize – he let millions die! He let Naboo die!”
“It couldn’t have been that simple, Annie.”
“Then how do you even explain him...lying to me? Trying to get me to kill my own father? A sweet dose of irony, that – a Jedi doing something that only a kriffing Sith would do – ’’
“Anakin Skywalker!”
For a moment, Anakin thought he could see the old sternness in the former Supreme Chancellor – perhaps he had ruled wisely and well before Lumiya had come into power. Perhaps he’d been a tyrant, and Lumiya had replaced him with an even worse tyrant.
“Enough,” Palpatine said. “Control yourself – how are you going to fulfill your destiny as the Chosen One if you can’t learn basic – ’’
“Destiny?” Anakin laughed again. “Destiny? So it was my ‘destiny’ to come across the remains of my foster parents and my home, all burned to the ground to find droids that were instrumental to the turning of the tide? It was my ‘destiny’ to be a pawn in some slimy philosophical game?”
There was silence.
“Anakin – ’’
He was shaking. Somehow, he couldn’t breathe.
And now he’d collapsed to his knees, face buried in his arms. For a moment, he thought it was sheer embarrassment at losing his temper in front of the Supreme Chancellor – indeed, he felt more like a small child than the Jedi Knight he was supposed to be – but after a while, he realized that he was weeping.
Padmè and Palpatine were at his side in a moment. He thought he heard C-3PO politely excusing himself – somehow, he couldn’t blame him – as well as Obi-Wan’s voice.
“Come, Jar-Jar. He needs time.”
“But wesa can’t – ’’
“He needs time,” Obi-Wan repeated. “He’s still hurting.”
Silence.
“Oh.”
When even the irrepressible Jar-Jar was troubled by this turn of events, you knew something had gone wrong.
That was the last facsimile of coherent thought that Anakin could form before bursting into fresh sobs. He could feel Padmè’s arms around him, warm and gentle, and Palpatine’s most paternal, soothing tones near his ear.
“Why does it hurt you so, Anakin? What else could he have possibly said to you to make you doubt yourself so?”
“He – ’’
Vader hadn’t hurt him. Hadn’t...touched him. But his voice did that for him, twisting Anakin’s thoughts and filling his head with fear and despair. Join me, and we can rule the galaxy together as father and son – come with me – it’s the only way –
“He – he didn’t hurt me. Not too much. I just can’t...forgive him. I know I should, I know I’m a Jedi, but – it’s not easy!”
“And he earned your anger, Anakin.”
Wiping his eyes frantically on his sleeve, Anakin took some deep, shuddering breaths. “I wish the droids had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.”
“Even us?” Palpatine said gently.
A watery smile. “Maybe...not you, Chancellor. Or...I just wish I’d met you under better circumstances. I...” He took a deep breath. “I won’t become my father, Chancellor. I promise you this.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
Silence.
“You...really?”
“Yes.”
Anakin looked into Palpatine’s face, confused, lost, disbelieving. Palpatine merely brushed the last remnants of tears from his eyes.
“You are, after all,” Palpatine said, “The Son of the Suns, are you not?”
Anakin merely nodded. The prophecy... Force, he hated the prophecy. It kept talking about him “bringing balance to the Force”, except no one seemed to understand what “bringing balance to the Force” actually meant. No one, not even Yoda or Han. He didn’t know whether it meant joining Vader, or killing him – long ago, it would have been simple, but somehow, he didn’t know anymore.
The worst part was simply not knowing.
Vader always lies, Vader always lies...
Even now, that no longer seemed to work. I’ve been lying to myself for far too long. Even looking from Padmè to Palpatine to Obi-Wan, he knew, somehow, he needed to stop lying. To stop pretending. To face the truth.
I am the son of Lord Vader. My shame is not his. My blood does not determine my destiny – only my choices.
The darkness will not determine my destiny like it did Vader’s.
And somehow, he could stop shaking.
“You are the Son of the Suns,” Palpatine said. “And I doubt the prophets of old idly named you so.”
Anakin merely nodded. It was hard to swallow around the tears that threatened to well up again – somehow, he wondered if anyone had heard him. Anyone other than Palpatine and the others, that is.
Padmè placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll always be there for you, Annie,” she said. “I promise.”
Anakin smiled. There was something about her that managed to soothe that anger, that inferno within him that threatened to boil over.
He found he could stand again. The shaking had stopped.
Perhaps later he could speak with Han and Yoda. Perhaps then he could get some answers.
And perhaps then, he could find some peace.
Summary: After the duel on Bespin, Anakin tries to cope with the revelation of his parentage.
Warnings: Other than some rusty writing skills reemerging, Anakin angst, Palpatine being a good guy in this AU (oh dear), and some adult/slashy undertones (including potentially triggering material), nothing much.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Really.
Rating: R, just in case.
Anakin Skywalker didn’t like to dream.
When he dreamed, he saw Bespin again: hanging from it, lips parched, strength giving out, wishing somehow that the Force would take him so this misery, so this monstrosity would be over. Hanging from Bespin by naught by his feet, crying out for anyone – Han, Padmè, Palpatine – to save him.
When he dreamed, he saw Vader, looming over him on Bespin, saber humming at his throat. You are beaten. It is useless to resist. Don’t be destroyed like the rest of your filthy kind.
When he dreamed, he heard the rumbles of Vader’s voice informing him that somehow, Vader was his father, and everything Han and the others had told him had been a lie.
And yet, somehow, he couldn’t stop himself from dreaming.
You can’t avoid dreaming.
When he dreamed, he saw the monster that used to be Luke, leering at him. We are all our worst enemies, Anakin Skywalker. Even stars burn out...
And when he woke, he would see Padmè, standing over him, refusing to leave his side – for that, he was grateful, but somehow, he wished she didn’t stay. She doesn’t need to see this. Padmè had had enough darkness in her life without one of her dearest friends succumbing to the pain of Vader’s constant atrocities.
***
Another dream.
His father, boyish face haggard with care and worry, marching on the Jedi Temple on Coruscant with stormtroopers backing him up. The younglings, pleading with him to save them – only for him to cut them down like animals.
Han Solo, normally cocky face twisted with grief as he viewed the recordings: “It can’t be...”
“Destroy the Sith we must.” Yoda’s voice. How could he be so irrationally calm about one of his former students killing millions? Killing his own comrades? Had he seen too much of it already, like those...Vong Wars he told Anakin about once?
***
They still wouldn’t let him get out of bed. Hell, they wouldn’t even let him write a word – they might as well have imprisoned him. They meant well, naturally, but Anakin was reluctant to lie still. If they’d let him go out and fly amongst the stars without fear of his fath – no, Vader – finding him, he’d probably be better. But no – he was shut in, behind those alabaster walls, in a prison they’d adjusted to suit his... “problems”, as they’d so kindly referred to them as.
Even getting up to watch the sunset on Yterria would be better than nothing.
***
Vader always lies, Vader always lies...
He’d adopted this mantra to ward off the nightmares and the fears that continued to plague him. He’d adopted it to try, at the very least, to stop the emptiness in him. To clog it – but it wasn’t like it would work.
Still, he had to try.
Do or do not. There is no try.
Anakin smiled to himself. Yoda’s advice – and Palpatine’s and Han’s – also managed to stop the pain a bit. Not that it counted for much
i should be out doing something productive, not being a burden to the Rebellion
but it was enough to help him keep breathing.
Especially after last night’s dream.
It wasn’t the familiar dreams he was used to – the burning Temples, the confiscated Jedi holocrons and lightsaber crystals and oh Force all that history gone to waste, amongst so many others – but a more...pleasant one. In an awful way.
“I was thinking of going to Deralia. You know, just to get away from everything. Get away from it all.” The woman turned to look at Luke, and she was beautiful, with red-gold hair and green eyes – radiant as the sunlight. “What do you think?”
His father smiled, and somehow, he was more radiant than Anakin could have ever imagined. “That would be...wonderful.”
“Maybe after the war’s over. When things have settled down.” Mara sighed and turned back to the city skyline, still damaged from the Vong attacks. “He deserves better than a life during wartime...”
“We all do, Mara. We all do.”
Luke’s hand went to her shoulder, and she smiled – and in his father’s eyes, Anakin could see that look – the same thing he felt around Padmè – that somehow, she was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen and no one could truly compare.
No one ever would.
“I doubt this darkness will endure.”
And he rested his cheek on the crown of her head, and blond hair mingled with red hair as they relaxed in one another’s company. Somehow, everything the Vong had done – everything the Corellian Confederacy of Independent Systems had done – didn’t matter. They had one another, and that was all that truly mattered.
All that would ever matter.
When Anakin awoke, he felt sick – sweating, hot and cold at the same time – and he’d stumbled blindly towards the fresher, vomiting twice into it.
Damn them.
Damn him.
His father had thrown this away. All for power. All for...something that wasn’t worth all the murders and lies to get to the top.
His father would never do something like this.
A cold clarity came through the nausea – Vader always lies.
Vader was selfish.
Luke was selfless.
And somehow, that helped reassure him.
Vader always lies, Vader always lies...
And crouched in the corner of the fresher, knees curled up to his chest like a small child’s – somehow, Anakin Skywalker believed it.
***
Vader always lies –
need him, need him now –
always lies –
need him –
“You shouldn’t be out of bed, Anakin. You’re not quite well.”
It was four one hundred, after another nightmare and series of vomiting spells
kriffing Vong
when Anakin looked up to see the former Supreme Chancellor of Naboo standing over him in the doorway, as well as Padmè, and Obi-Wan, and Jar-Jar...how had they found him?
Then again, he guessed he shouldn’t be surprised. They always seemed to know where to find him. Always.
“I’m...perfectly fine,” he said. At least in body. He was beginning to become accustomed to his mechanical hand – perhaps the last gift from his dear father.
No. He’s not your father. Luke Skywalker couldn’t have been this beast.
Vader always lies...
“Chancellor,” he added. “Are you well?”
The Chancellor gave him a gentle smile. “Would you prefer I called you ‘Knight Skywalker’ or ‘Master Jedi’?”
“Not quite.”
He wasn’t a Jedi. Not exactly. He hadn’t passed his trials – he’d been stupid enough to run away. Stupid enough to believe the lies that Vader was feeding him about Padmè and the others being in danger – couldn’t live without them, couldn’t bear to see them die, not after Shmi and the others had died –
I want, I need –
Vader always lies...Vader always lies...
“Then,” Palpatine said, “Why refer to me as Chancellor? We are friends now, are we not?”
Anakin could still remember when they’d met in that bar on Ord Mantell, when Palpatine, under the guise of Wanderer, had saved his life from Boba Fett. He could still remember Palpatine’s words when they’d first met – you draw too much attention to yourself, Knight Skywalker, and somehow, they managed to sting. A bittersweet sting, but still a sting.
You draw too much attention to yourself...
Vader had been able to track him. Feel his thoughts. If he hadn’t saved the Falcon...
He took a deep breath. “Right. Sorry.” Somehow, Vader seemed to have shaken him. “What do you want?”
“Merely to check on your well-being. How is your hand?”
“It...works.” Indeed, it was at the very least functional, and could give him a facsimile of what he used to experience back when he had a flesh hand – a weak facsimile, but indeed a facsimile – and despite its ugliness, it...at the very least, it beat having a stump where his hand used to be.
And perhaps that was one of the only good things that came out of Bespin.
Yoda. Can you ever forgive me?
But the Jedi Master was far away. Probably sharing some juma with Han – could Force Ghosts drink juma? – as they continued to bitch about his recklessness.
Somehow, that made Anakin smile a little more as well. Patience had never been his strong suit. If he’d been in the Old Order back then, he mused, he wouldn’t have done very well.
Perhaps that’s what made my fath – Vader – fall?
“Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?”
“Yes,” the Chancellor said, “Plenty of things.”
Already, Anakin was impatient. “Could you get straight to the point?” His voice came out more edged than he intended, to the point that C-3PO seemed ready to intervene, only for Palpatine to reassure the protocol droid that things were perfectly under control.
“Very well,” he said. “Your mental shielding...is it functional?”
He must know about my nightmares. “Not very,” Anakin said. No matter what happened, the dreams kept getting through. It was like Vader could...track him.
We are, after all...bonded.
“What truly happened on Bespin, my boy? What truly happened?”
Anakin looked from him to Jar-Jar to Padmè to Obi-Wan, and took a deep breath.
“I’d...prefer not to talk about it.”
“If it’s hurting you, Anakin, I believe we have a right to hear it.”
“You mean if it could hold up the mission.”
Beat.
“You value yourself far too little for your own good.”
Under normal circumstances, Anakin would have laughed. Now, however, he could only offer a fake smile, before sobering.
“I failed.”
His voice came out weak, shaky.
“What do you mean?” Padmè sounded worried, almost insistent. “You saved our lives! If it weren’t for you, we would have been in the clutches of the Empire by now.”
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
Inside, he could still feel Vader’s voice creeping like poison through his veins. We can destroy Lumiya. It is your destiny. Join me, and we can rule the galaxy – make things the way we want them to be!
And his father, standing on some fiery planet, making the same offer to his mother. The way we want things to be...
He swallowed back the bile. “I was tricked. Vader...he was using you as bait to find me, and I walked into his trap. I nearly put you in danger...”
Obi-Wan’s chuckle interrupted him. “Anakin,” he said, “Do you think you’re responsible for me nearly being frozen in carbonite?”
“If I weren’t with you – ’’
“If not for you,” Padmè said, “I would have died back on the Death Star. You know this, don’t you?”
“That’s not what I meant!” Force, didn’t they understand? “Vader’s hunting you because of me!”
“He was hunting us far before that,” Palpatine said. “He and Lumiya would never stop until we were dead, imprisoned, or turned. You know this.”
“And now that I’m here, it’s even worse!”
Silence.
“Anakin,” Padmè said, ever so gently. “What’s really wrong?”
“I just told you!”
“What did he do to you?”
And Anakin paused.
Even now, the memories were coming back. Vader, richly hissing to him, taunting him, tempting him, wanting him.
“Only as much as he had to.”
He took a deep breath; how was he going to explain this to them? He could already see Jar-Jar visibly drooping in disappointment, Padmè turning away from him once and for all as something unclean, the Rebel Alliance exiling him to some forbidden planet with some sort of hostile atmosphere...
And Vader’s voice. Serpentine. Beautiful. Engulfing him in darkness. He looked from Palpatine to Jar-Jar for some trace of Anakin Skywalker in their eyes, for some clues about how he was supposed to act
silly, serious, impulsive, careful
but he saw none.
The best he could do was tell the truth.
“He’s my father, Padmè.”
And he waited for her reaction: accusing, condemnatory – but none came. She merely seemed to be watching him, waiting, anxiously, for him to continue.
And then, “Oh.”
“He’s my father. My father – the exterminator of millions. He killed so many Jedi – even the younglings. No one escaped – they were destroyed if they didn’t fit him and Lumiya’s ‘grand vision’. ‘A galaxy without sin’, that’s what she said to him. So the Jedi had to die. And then he killed my mother on top of that. He’s not...he could never...” His voice trailed off; somehow, he had run out of words.
Padmè’s voice was gentle. “You’re not like him, Anakin. You know this.”
“But what happened with the Death Star...the first Death Star...”
“You did what you could,” Palpatine said. “Do you know how many planets you saved from having the same fate as Naboo?”
How can he talk so calmly about his planet being destroyed?
Jar-Jar. Padmè. Palpatine. Obi-Wan. He doubted they would have come together if not for Naboo – whether it used to be their home or if it was their sense of right that allowed them to endure beyond all hope, they’d bonded. The most unlikely of comrades – the mightiest of forces.
At the very least, he would have remembered it if not for what he’d seen – if I’d – he –
“It’s not just that,” he said. “It’s...”
He wanted to rage. He wanted to scream. And yet somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to do that.
“How could you speak so calmly about this when you have a monster in your midst?”
“Anakin – ’’ Padmè began.
“Do you even see what I see when I close my eyes?” Anakin snapped. “I see Han pleading with my father to see reason.” There. My father. I said it. Somehow, it was a relief. No, Vader lies –
always lies –
“I see Han leaving my father to burn on the lava bank instead of firing a damn blaster bolt into his head!”
“Anakin, please – ’’
“All because of the Will of the Force!” Anakin laughed harshly; it didn’t sound like himself. “Instead of shooting him, he let Vader fully materialize – he let millions die! He let Naboo die!”
“It couldn’t have been that simple, Annie.”
“Then how do you even explain him...lying to me? Trying to get me to kill my own father? A sweet dose of irony, that – a Jedi doing something that only a kriffing Sith would do – ’’
“Anakin Skywalker!”
For a moment, Anakin thought he could see the old sternness in the former Supreme Chancellor – perhaps he had ruled wisely and well before Lumiya had come into power. Perhaps he’d been a tyrant, and Lumiya had replaced him with an even worse tyrant.
“Enough,” Palpatine said. “Control yourself – how are you going to fulfill your destiny as the Chosen One if you can’t learn basic – ’’
“Destiny?” Anakin laughed again. “Destiny? So it was my ‘destiny’ to come across the remains of my foster parents and my home, all burned to the ground to find droids that were instrumental to the turning of the tide? It was my ‘destiny’ to be a pawn in some slimy philosophical game?”
There was silence.
“Anakin – ’’
He was shaking. Somehow, he couldn’t breathe.
And now he’d collapsed to his knees, face buried in his arms. For a moment, he thought it was sheer embarrassment at losing his temper in front of the Supreme Chancellor – indeed, he felt more like a small child than the Jedi Knight he was supposed to be – but after a while, he realized that he was weeping.
Padmè and Palpatine were at his side in a moment. He thought he heard C-3PO politely excusing himself – somehow, he couldn’t blame him – as well as Obi-Wan’s voice.
“Come, Jar-Jar. He needs time.”
“But wesa can’t – ’’
“He needs time,” Obi-Wan repeated. “He’s still hurting.”
Silence.
“Oh.”
When even the irrepressible Jar-Jar was troubled by this turn of events, you knew something had gone wrong.
That was the last facsimile of coherent thought that Anakin could form before bursting into fresh sobs. He could feel Padmè’s arms around him, warm and gentle, and Palpatine’s most paternal, soothing tones near his ear.
“Why does it hurt you so, Anakin? What else could he have possibly said to you to make you doubt yourself so?”
“He – ’’
Vader hadn’t hurt him. Hadn’t...touched him. But his voice did that for him, twisting Anakin’s thoughts and filling his head with fear and despair. Join me, and we can rule the galaxy together as father and son – come with me – it’s the only way –
“He – he didn’t hurt me. Not too much. I just can’t...forgive him. I know I should, I know I’m a Jedi, but – it’s not easy!”
“And he earned your anger, Anakin.”
Wiping his eyes frantically on his sleeve, Anakin took some deep, shuddering breaths. “I wish the droids had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.”
“Even us?” Palpatine said gently.
A watery smile. “Maybe...not you, Chancellor. Or...I just wish I’d met you under better circumstances. I...” He took a deep breath. “I won’t become my father, Chancellor. I promise you this.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
Silence.
“You...really?”
“Yes.”
Anakin looked into Palpatine’s face, confused, lost, disbelieving. Palpatine merely brushed the last remnants of tears from his eyes.
“You are, after all,” Palpatine said, “The Son of the Suns, are you not?”
Anakin merely nodded. The prophecy... Force, he hated the prophecy. It kept talking about him “bringing balance to the Force”, except no one seemed to understand what “bringing balance to the Force” actually meant. No one, not even Yoda or Han. He didn’t know whether it meant joining Vader, or killing him – long ago, it would have been simple, but somehow, he didn’t know anymore.
The worst part was simply not knowing.
Vader always lies, Vader always lies...
Even now, that no longer seemed to work. I’ve been lying to myself for far too long. Even looking from Padmè to Palpatine to Obi-Wan, he knew, somehow, he needed to stop lying. To stop pretending. To face the truth.
I am the son of Lord Vader. My shame is not his. My blood does not determine my destiny – only my choices.
The darkness will not determine my destiny like it did Vader’s.
And somehow, he could stop shaking.
“You are the Son of the Suns,” Palpatine said. “And I doubt the prophets of old idly named you so.”
Anakin merely nodded. It was hard to swallow around the tears that threatened to well up again – somehow, he wondered if anyone had heard him. Anyone other than Palpatine and the others, that is.
Padmè placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll always be there for you, Annie,” she said. “I promise.”
Anakin smiled. There was something about her that managed to soothe that anger, that inferno within him that threatened to boil over.
He found he could stand again. The shaking had stopped.
Perhaps later he could speak with Han and Yoda. Perhaps then he could get some answers.
And perhaps then, he could find some peace.
