Sequel To SON OF THE SUNS
May. 3rd, 2011 12:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyofleithianTitle: Ignite the Stars
Author: Ladyhadhafang.
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. Seriously.
Summary: After the duel on Bespin, Anakin has to find out where to go from there. Eventual A/P.
Warnings: Possible triggering shit regarding incesty-overtones between Vader and Anakin, angst, and Vader being kind of a sick fuck, really. Best not to read on if it's not your thing. Thanks.
Chapter One: The Sun Dies In Your Eyes
By the time Anakin had left the hut, he’d realized, too late, that he was weeping. Crashing next to his X-wing, he buried his face in his hands. Now that Yoda was gone, what would he do? Where would he go?
How am I going to defeat Vader and Lumiya if I’m this –
In his mind, he could already see the remains of Luke Skywalker roasting on Mustafar, hear Vader’s words, that serpentine voice roiling into his brain like poison and twisting his thoughts so tightly he didn’t know where lies ended and truth began. Choose me or the darkness. Be mine or you will burn.
He’d been lucky the first time. He doubted he’d be able to survive Vader
physically or psychologically
the next time around.
There was a whirring noise, and then a gentle series of beeps as R2 sidled up beside his master, offering what he could regarding comfort. Gently, Anakin patted the dome.
“Thanks, R2. I’m just…” He sighed, blearily rubbing his temples. “I can’t do this alone.”
“Yoda will always be with you.”
Han.
For a moment, Anakin wanted to run towards the figure, to bury his head in the robes and be safe – to cry, to scream, to shout, to forget for a moment that Vader was his father
my own father, seducing me this way, twisting me, wanting me –
But whatever joy he had at seeing Han again was quickly crushed as he remembered Bespin. How Han and Yoda held him back, just so he wouldn’t be able to know the truth – just so he wouldn’t realize that he and Obi-Wan were brothers, that Luke Skywalker was their father, that Vader was their father –
“Han,” Anakin said, voice shaking even as he tried to sound firm, dignified
everything I’m not and never will be
“Explain yourself.”
“Kiddo – ’’
“You knew all along who Vader was,” Anakin snapped. “Explain yourself.”
I’m on fire. I’m burning. Against the nightmares of his father’s “death”, against everything he knew, even the teachings of Yoda couldn’t hold back the flames.
Han sighed, and for a moment, he seemed every age of his eighty seven years. “Kid, I’m sorry. I never wanted this to happen – ’’
“But it did, didn’t it?” I’m on fire, I’m burning…
Swallowing, Anakin continued on. “You knew there was another. You knew Obi-Wan and I – ’’
“I didn’t lie to you, kid,” Han said, all too firmly. “Perhaps Vader was once Luke Skywalker, but that was long gone.”
“It’s not lost either.”
Han slumped on the nearest log. “Kid – have a seat. It’s going to be difficult to hear.”
Anakin joined him, feeling resentment still bubble up within him like the lava underneath Mustafar’s surface. Fire. Burning. Already, he felt the invisible flames licking at his skin, tasting him, needing him –
But this time, he was able to crush it down, to look into Han’s eyes, to wake from the nightmare haunting his dreams since Bespin – a nightmare that, somehow, in the vast emptiness of Dagobah, now seemed no larger than that one piece of shuura fruit that Padme had persuaded him to try. It still burned – somehow, it burned hotter – but looking at Han, he somehow felt…awake.
Tell me everything, Han, he silently begged. Tell me everything you know. I need this – I need to learn how to protect the people around me. I need to know how to
save? condemn? both?
help my father. To bring him back.
“Just want to tell you, first off, that your father was…complicated to say the least. Don’t mistake me, kid; he was a good man, but at the same time…” Han sighed. “When these good men fall, they fall hard. It wasn’t until I returned from that asteroid colony after dueling the Dark Jedi Alema Rar that I realized what your father had done.”
Anakin closed his eyes, already picturing it. Shot at by your own clones…realizing everyone you’d grown up with was slaughtered by the Temple boogeyman… When he could finally breathe again, he’d realized that his voice was hoarse, like he’d been screaming all day. “He…”
“Yeah. He did.” Han sighed. “I watched some of my dearest friends die before my eyes – and it was all because of him.” There was a trace of pain in his voice now, as if he was struggling to simply get the words out. “The one who might as well be a son to me slaughtered them before my eyes, and the galaxy kriffing watched.”
Anakin swallowed past the lump in his throat. If it were Padme or Obi-Wan, Palpatine or Jar-Jar talking about this, Anakin would have been able to reach for them. Pat their hand or shoulder, tell them it was going to be all right. But Han…he couldn’t reach him. Vader had killed him – cut Han away from him. The one he might as well have called a father.
In his mind, Vader’s words echoed as if the Sith Lord had bellowed them. You can’t save them…
And he couldn’t. Couldn’t save Padme when she wept over her shattered homeplanet, only hold her and hug her and promise her that everything would be fine in the end. Couldn’t save Obi-Wan when the latter was nearly frozen in carbonite – only nearly get himself killed in the process and wait for Padme to rescue him instead.
Couldn’t save Mom and Dad. Couldn’t save…couldn’t…
Vader had taken so much from him. Everything he had. Everything he was. And what he hadn’t taken…well, it was physically present, he couldn’t deny, but psychologically? He’d looked from Padme to Obi-Wan to Jar-Jar to see some trace of Anakin in their eyes, traces of how to behave, what to say, but he found nothing.
Bespin had burned it out of them.
Just like Tatooine. Just like Naboo.
Just like this war.
“I’m so sorry, Han,” Anakin said. “I…” He sighed. “Yoda was right,” he said, trying to smile. “I really am blind. No, more than blind. I was stupid.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”
“But Bespin – ’’
“Vader’s smart. Smarter than he should be. He knew you’d come to save Padme and the others. He knew it.”
“But – ’’
“No buts, kiddo,” Han said. “Come on, get to sleep.”
“I – ’’
“You’ve had enough emotional turmoil to last a lifetime, kiddo. Now get to sleep.”
And slowly, reluctantly, Anakin did.
Sleeping brought dreaming.
And more memories continued to bubble up in his dreams.
His mother, laughing with Luke in a meadow on Alderaan. Them, racing against one another on speeders as the sun went down... laughing on Coruscant…happy and free from the galaxy for the time being. And Luke, his father, young, unmarred, luminous -- completely unlike the monster Anakin was so accustomed to seeing.
When Anakin woke, however, Han was gone – and with him, so were the memories. Like dew in a Tatooine winter dawn, they’d vanished. Gone forever.
No. Not forever.
They were part of him. Just as Padme’s love and Obi-Wan’s laughter, and Jar Jar’s almost infectious cheer were part of him. Even packing his things he could still remember Padme’s touch, and Obi-Wan chuckling at Jar-Jar’s antics – breaking that icy façade he’d tried so hard to keep intact – and Palpatine’s most comforting, paternal tones as he reassured Anakin that he was the Son of the Suns, the Chosen One, and he was not idly named so.
They’ll be with you. Always.
Han’s voice, low and comforting, managed to relax the dragon-grip of dread around his heart – not entirely, but just enough.
Artoo uttered a few, slightly sleepy-sounding beeps. Anakin smiled. “Come on, Artoo. Let’s go.”
And they climbed into the X-wing and lifted off from Dagobah, leaving memories of Han, of Yoda, of the man who had been Luke Skywalker, behind for good.
Author: Ladyhadhafang.
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. Seriously.
Summary: After the duel on Bespin, Anakin has to find out where to go from there. Eventual A/P.
Warnings: Possible triggering shit regarding incesty-overtones between Vader and Anakin, angst, and Vader being kind of a sick fuck, really. Best not to read on if it's not your thing. Thanks.
Chapter One: The Sun Dies In Your Eyes
By the time Anakin had left the hut, he’d realized, too late, that he was weeping. Crashing next to his X-wing, he buried his face in his hands. Now that Yoda was gone, what would he do? Where would he go?
How am I going to defeat Vader and Lumiya if I’m this –
In his mind, he could already see the remains of Luke Skywalker roasting on Mustafar, hear Vader’s words, that serpentine voice roiling into his brain like poison and twisting his thoughts so tightly he didn’t know where lies ended and truth began. Choose me or the darkness. Be mine or you will burn.
He’d been lucky the first time. He doubted he’d be able to survive Vader
physically or psychologically
the next time around.
There was a whirring noise, and then a gentle series of beeps as R2 sidled up beside his master, offering what he could regarding comfort. Gently, Anakin patted the dome.
“Thanks, R2. I’m just…” He sighed, blearily rubbing his temples. “I can’t do this alone.”
“Yoda will always be with you.”
Han.
For a moment, Anakin wanted to run towards the figure, to bury his head in the robes and be safe – to cry, to scream, to shout, to forget for a moment that Vader was his father
my own father, seducing me this way, twisting me, wanting me –
But whatever joy he had at seeing Han again was quickly crushed as he remembered Bespin. How Han and Yoda held him back, just so he wouldn’t be able to know the truth – just so he wouldn’t realize that he and Obi-Wan were brothers, that Luke Skywalker was their father, that Vader was their father –
“Han,” Anakin said, voice shaking even as he tried to sound firm, dignified
everything I’m not and never will be
“Explain yourself.”
“Kiddo – ’’
“You knew all along who Vader was,” Anakin snapped. “Explain yourself.”
I’m on fire. I’m burning. Against the nightmares of his father’s “death”, against everything he knew, even the teachings of Yoda couldn’t hold back the flames.
Han sighed, and for a moment, he seemed every age of his eighty seven years. “Kid, I’m sorry. I never wanted this to happen – ’’
“But it did, didn’t it?” I’m on fire, I’m burning…
Swallowing, Anakin continued on. “You knew there was another. You knew Obi-Wan and I – ’’
“I didn’t lie to you, kid,” Han said, all too firmly. “Perhaps Vader was once Luke Skywalker, but that was long gone.”
“It’s not lost either.”
Han slumped on the nearest log. “Kid – have a seat. It’s going to be difficult to hear.”
Anakin joined him, feeling resentment still bubble up within him like the lava underneath Mustafar’s surface. Fire. Burning. Already, he felt the invisible flames licking at his skin, tasting him, needing him –
But this time, he was able to crush it down, to look into Han’s eyes, to wake from the nightmare haunting his dreams since Bespin – a nightmare that, somehow, in the vast emptiness of Dagobah, now seemed no larger than that one piece of shuura fruit that Padme had persuaded him to try. It still burned – somehow, it burned hotter – but looking at Han, he somehow felt…awake.
Tell me everything, Han, he silently begged. Tell me everything you know. I need this – I need to learn how to protect the people around me. I need to know how to
save? condemn? both?
help my father. To bring him back.
“Just want to tell you, first off, that your father was…complicated to say the least. Don’t mistake me, kid; he was a good man, but at the same time…” Han sighed. “When these good men fall, they fall hard. It wasn’t until I returned from that asteroid colony after dueling the Dark Jedi Alema Rar that I realized what your father had done.”
Anakin closed his eyes, already picturing it. Shot at by your own clones…realizing everyone you’d grown up with was slaughtered by the Temple boogeyman… When he could finally breathe again, he’d realized that his voice was hoarse, like he’d been screaming all day. “He…”
“Yeah. He did.” Han sighed. “I watched some of my dearest friends die before my eyes – and it was all because of him.” There was a trace of pain in his voice now, as if he was struggling to simply get the words out. “The one who might as well be a son to me slaughtered them before my eyes, and the galaxy kriffing watched.”
Anakin swallowed past the lump in his throat. If it were Padme or Obi-Wan, Palpatine or Jar-Jar talking about this, Anakin would have been able to reach for them. Pat their hand or shoulder, tell them it was going to be all right. But Han…he couldn’t reach him. Vader had killed him – cut Han away from him. The one he might as well have called a father.
In his mind, Vader’s words echoed as if the Sith Lord had bellowed them. You can’t save them…
And he couldn’t. Couldn’t save Padme when she wept over her shattered homeplanet, only hold her and hug her and promise her that everything would be fine in the end. Couldn’t save Obi-Wan when the latter was nearly frozen in carbonite – only nearly get himself killed in the process and wait for Padme to rescue him instead.
Couldn’t save Mom and Dad. Couldn’t save…couldn’t…
Vader had taken so much from him. Everything he had. Everything he was. And what he hadn’t taken…well, it was physically present, he couldn’t deny, but psychologically? He’d looked from Padme to Obi-Wan to Jar-Jar to see some trace of Anakin in their eyes, traces of how to behave, what to say, but he found nothing.
Bespin had burned it out of them.
Just like Tatooine. Just like Naboo.
Just like this war.
“I’m so sorry, Han,” Anakin said. “I…” He sighed. “Yoda was right,” he said, trying to smile. “I really am blind. No, more than blind. I was stupid.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”
“But Bespin – ’’
“Vader’s smart. Smarter than he should be. He knew you’d come to save Padme and the others. He knew it.”
“But – ’’
“No buts, kiddo,” Han said. “Come on, get to sleep.”
“I – ’’
“You’ve had enough emotional turmoil to last a lifetime, kiddo. Now get to sleep.”
And slowly, reluctantly, Anakin did.
Sleeping brought dreaming.
And more memories continued to bubble up in his dreams.
His mother, laughing with Luke in a meadow on Alderaan. Them, racing against one another on speeders as the sun went down... laughing on Coruscant…happy and free from the galaxy for the time being. And Luke, his father, young, unmarred, luminous -- completely unlike the monster Anakin was so accustomed to seeing.
When Anakin woke, however, Han was gone – and with him, so were the memories. Like dew in a Tatooine winter dawn, they’d vanished. Gone forever.
No. Not forever.
They were part of him. Just as Padme’s love and Obi-Wan’s laughter, and Jar Jar’s almost infectious cheer were part of him. Even packing his things he could still remember Padme’s touch, and Obi-Wan chuckling at Jar-Jar’s antics – breaking that icy façade he’d tried so hard to keep intact – and Palpatine’s most comforting, paternal tones as he reassured Anakin that he was the Son of the Suns, the Chosen One, and he was not idly named so.
They’ll be with you. Always.
Han’s voice, low and comforting, managed to relax the dragon-grip of dread around his heart – not entirely, but just enough.
Artoo uttered a few, slightly sleepy-sounding beeps. Anakin smiled. “Come on, Artoo. Let’s go.”
And they climbed into the X-wing and lifted off from Dagobah, leaving memories of Han, of Yoda, of the man who had been Luke Skywalker, behind for good.
