Chapter Text
Chapter 1
“If you’re not with me, you’re my enemy!”
Obi-wan cut off the declaration that was so close to leaving his lips. I will do what I must, but could he really? Master Yoda said that Anakin was gone...but what if he was wrong?
The man before him, no matter how dark, was his best friend-his brother. He failed Anakin, and maybe he’ll keep on failing him but he won’t leave him to the dark. Obi-wan felt his own resolve strengthen, he would give him a second chance, and third and a fourth and a fifth...Obi-wan would keep on fighting to get his brother-his Anakin back even if it killed him, but he wouldn’t leave him-he won’t abandon him.
“Okay,” Obi-wan murmured more to himself than the broken boy panting like a caged beast preparing for a fight. He crouched down, sliding his saber along the ground, the hilt stopping with a metallic tap against Anakin’s boot. “I won’t fight you Anakin,” his voice was steady, not betraying the havoc of emotions rampaging inside.
Anakin paused, frozen in utter disbelief. This wasn’t how he thought Obi-wan would react. “What?” He croaked.
“I am not your enemy,” Obi-wan’s knees hit the ground, his arms wide and teary gaze pleading, “You are my brother Anakin. I love you.”
Anakin edged back with a shake of his head, wide frantic eyes darting between Obi-Wan’s outstretched hands and Padmé’s still form behind him. “No...no...he said...you’re a traitor...he said...you don’t...no, no...this isn’t...” Anakin’s breathing was speeding up into panicked gasps.
Obi-Wan glanced down at the edge of the platform that Anakin’s feet slowly edged towards. With immense effort, Obi-Wan tried to keep his voice calm, “Anakin? Come back to me.” He managed with only a slight tremor. At the panicked shake of the young man’s head, Obi-Wan persisted, “I need you to explain what happened. I choose you, Anakin—I want to be on your side, I need to know why so I can help you—so I can be with you.” Obi-Wan needed Anakin to step away from the ledge—both physically and metaphorically.
Anakin turned red-rimmed sunken eyes (when was the last time he slept?) towards him with a snarled, “Liar! You’ve come here to kill me!”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, Dear One. I won’t kill you—I can’t kill you.”
Anakin shook his head, “No—it doesn’t make sense!”
“What doesn’t make sense?” Obi-Wan asked, trying to keep his voice slow and measured.
“The Jedi tried to kill the Chancellor—they’re traitors! You’re on the Council...you’re supposed to be a traitor too...” Anakin rambled.
Obi-Wan bit back his retort of how Palpatine was evil—he knew it wouldn’t go down well with Anakin in this moment. He tried a different approach. “You’re also on the Council, remember—not all of its members are of the same mind.”
“They kept things from me—they didn’t trust me!” Anakin’s sleep-deprived bloodshot eyes were wide, his mouth skewed into a snarl as he growled the words. Anakin called Obi-wan’s saber into his hand, gripping it like a life line before clipping it to his belt.
Obi-Wan had always wished that it was otherwise. He could always see how the Council’s distrust affected Anakin over the years. How they treated him as a caged predator—a wild beast that would attack at any moment...it’s said when one is treated like a beast long enough, one is bound to become a beast.
Obi-Wan’s heart twisted in his chest. “I’m sorry, Anakin. I’m so sorry—I failed you.”
Anakin’s brows frowned further in confusion. He shook his head with sharp stuttered movements like he was trying to throw vicious thoughts from his mind, “I’m not your failure, Obi-Wan.”
“You are though,” Obi-Wan’s voice broke slightly. “I was supposed to protect you. Train you. And instead...” His eyes flickered to Padmé’s motionless form. “Look what I’ve let happen.”
Behind them, Padmé stirred slightly, a soft moan escaping her lips, both men’s attention snapped to her instantly. “Padmé!” Anakin started forward instinctively, then stopped himself, his face crumpling. “I...I hurt her. I promised I’d never hurt her and I...” His voice dissolved into a choked sob.
Obi-Wan’s heart shattered at the raw anguish in Anakin’s voice. “She’s alive, Anakin. She’s breathing...but she needs help—medical attention we can’t give her here.”
Anakin’s hands shook as he stared at his wife. “The baby...”
“Is strong,” Obi-Wan said gently, though he wasn’t entirely sure. “I can sense them in the Force but Anakin, we need to get her to safety. Both of you.” He paused, then took the greatest risk of all. “Help me carry her to the ship. Please.”
“I can’t,” Anakin whispered, backing away again. “I can’t trust myself. What if I hurt her again? What if the Master is right and I’m too far gone?”
The way Anakin said ‘Master’ with such reverence and fear made Obi-Wan’s blood run cold. Palpatine. Even now, even after everything, the Sith Lord’s poison was still flowing through Anakin’s mind.
“Hear me as your old Master and as your friend,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “Do not let your fear kill the one person you’ve destroyed everything to save.”
Padmé’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and pained. “Ani?” she whispered weakly.
Anakin fell to his knees . “Padmé, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”
“She can’t hear you from there,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “And she’s hurt, Anakin. The longer we wait...”
He didn’t need to finish. Anakin looked between them—his unconscious wife, his pleading former master, the lava flows beneath them that offered only destruction. For the first time since he’d knelt before Palpatine, Anakin Skywalker had to choose what he truly wanted to save. He rose and moved hesitantly to his wife.
His yellow eyes flickered back to their normal blue for just a moment. “I...I hurt her.” The words came out strangled, like they were being torn from his throat. “I can’t...what if I hurt her again?”
“Then we’ll make sure you don’t,” Obi-Wan said simply, rising slowly to his feet but keeping his movements non-threatening. “But right now, she needs us both.”
Anakin stared at Padmé’s pale face, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The sight of her—alive but fragile, alive but because of him nearly not—cut through the fog in his mind like a lightsaber through durasteel. He moved forward before he could stop himself, falling to his knees beside her.
“Padmé?” His voice cracked as he reached out, then jerked his hand back. “I can’t...I can’t touch her. What if...”
“Anakin.” Obi-Wan knelt on Padmé’s other side, his movements careful and measured. “I need you to help me carry her to the ship. Can you do that?”
The simple request—not choose a side or renounce the dark—just help me save her—seemed to anchor Anakin in the present moment. He nodded shakily.
Together, they lifted Padmé, Obi-Wan supporting her shoulders while Anakin cradled her legs. The physical contact, the shared purpose, seemed to quiet some of the chaos in Anakin’s mind yet as they moved toward the ship, the contradictions started clawing at him again.
“He said...he said the Jedi were going to take over,” Anakin mumbled, his grip on Padmé tightening protectively. “He said you’d betray the Republic.” Anakin’s flickering yellow-blue eyes were unfocused, here and yet not.
“And yet here I am, helping you save the woman you love instead of fighting you,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Does that sound like betrayal to you?”
Anakin’s steps faltered. “But...but the Council...Master Windu tried to kill him. I saw it.”
“You saw a Jedi Master trying to stop a Sith Lord who had just revealed himself,” Obi-Wan corrected gently. “Anakin, Palpatine is—”
“Don’t.” The word came out as a snarl, Anakin’s eyes flared yellow again. “Don’t say that. He’s...he’s the only one who...” But the sentence died as his memories twisted against each other. The only one who what? Who cared? Who told him he was special? Who promised to save Padmé?
Who made him slaughter children?
The thought hit him like a physical blow, and Anakin stumbled, nearly dropping Padmé. Images flashed through his mind—younglings looking up at him with trust, then fear, then nothing at all. The taste of smoke and the sound of screaming. His lightsaber, blue and familiar, cutting down everything in its path.
“No,” he whispered, shaking his head violently. “No, that wasn’t...I didn’t...” But he had. The memory was there, crystal clear and damning.
“Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “Stay with me. We’re almost to the ship.”
But Anakin was drowning in fractured recollections. Had he really done those things? Had he really cut off Mace Winin's hand? The images felt both completely real and utterly impossible. When had he last slept? When had he last eaten? Everything blurred together—Palpatine’s voice, the yellow eyes in the mirror, Padmé’s horrified face, the sound of his lightsaber igniting in the Jedi Temple...
“I can’t...I can’t remember,” he gasped, his breathing becoming erratic again. “Did I...oh Force, did I really...?”
They reached the ship’s ramp, and Obi-Wan gently guided Anakin to help him lay Padmé on the bed in the small med-bay. The two droids chittered and fretted about them as they settled her in, checking her pulse and making sure she was breathing steadily, some of the immediate panic seemed to ease from Anakin’s features.
“She’s alive,” he whispered, like he was afraid saying it might make it untrue.
“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “But we need to get her to a medcenter. The baby...” Obi-Wan trailed off at the anguish in Anakin’s expression.
Anakin reached out tentatively to touch Padmé’s rounded belly, then pulled back again. “I was supposed to protect them. But I...” His face crumpled. “What have I done, Obi-Wan? What have I become?”
Obi-Wan looked at his former padawan—this broken young man who had just helped him save the woman he loved, who was horrified by his own actions, who was fighting to remember who he really was beneath all the manipulation and trauma.
“You are Anakin Skywalker,” he said firmly. “And right now, Anakin Skywalker is going to help me get his wife and child to safety.” It wasn’t absolution not even forgiveness but it was hope—and sometimes, hope was enough to keep someone from falling into the abyss. Obi-Wan moved toward the pilot’s seat, then paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Anakin, I need you to fly.”
Anakin looked up sharply, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”
“You’re the best pilot I know,” Obi-Wan said gently. “And right now, I need you to focus on something you can control. Something real.” Something that might anchor you in the present instead of letting you drown in fragmented nightmares.
Slowly, hesitantly, Anakin moved to the pilot’s chair. His hands shook as they settled on the controls, but the familiar feel of the ship’s systems seemed to ground him slightly. “Where...where are we going?”
Obi-Wan searched for a moment in the computer database, “Polis Massa,” he said, settling into the co-pilot’s seat, “There’s a medical facility there. Remote...safe from the Empire...at least for now.”
As the ship lifted off from Mustafar’s hellish surface, Anakin’s breathing began to even out. Flying had always been his refuge—the one place where the chaos in his mind quieted, where everything made sense.
R2 rolled into the cockpit nudging Anakin making a soft whirring sound, Anakin placed his hand atop the droid’s dome, the little R2 unit deserved a better friend, “I’m sorry R2,” Anakin murmured. R2 beeped keeping close, he wasn’t going anywhere.
While Anakin navigated them through hyperspace, Obi-Wan activated the ship’s communications array. “Master Yoda,” he said quietly when the ancient Jedi’s hologram flickered to life along with the towering form next to him of Bail Organa, “Senator,” Obi-Wan greeted with a nod.
“Alive, you are,” Yoda said, relief evident in his voice.
“We’re heading to Polis Massa,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “Padmé...she needs medical attention. The baby is coming.”
“With you, young Skywalker is?” Yoda’s ears twitched slightly.
Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin, whose knuckles were white on the controls, yellow eyes flickering back to blue and then yellow again as he fought some internal battle. “Yes, Master.”
There was a long pause as the Grand Master contemplated. “Meet you there, Senator Organa and I will.” And suddenly the transmission ended.
Obi-Wan let out a heavy sigh, knowing that what waited ahead of them would not be easy.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Summary:
When hope turns to despair, old wounds tear open and the past refuses to stay buried.
Notes:
Thank you so much for your kudos, they mean the world to Thea and I.
As a heads up, This chapter(and the whole story really) deals heavily with psychological trauma and breakdowns...simply to say-Anakin is having a hard time...and poor Obi-wan has to hold it all together.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The sterile corridors of the medical facility were a stark contrast to the volcanic chaos they’d left behind. Medical droids bustled about as Anakin and Obi-Wan carried Padmé to the birthing chamber, where the midwife droids immediately began their assessments.
“The twins are in distress,” one of the droids announced in its calm, mechanical voice. “We must proceed immediately.”
"Twins?” Anakin’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “You mean...there’s really two babies?”
The midwife droid tilted its head, “Yes,” it said shortly before moving to assist Padme.
Anakin stood frozen in the doorway, staring at Padmé’s pale face. The antiseptic smell, the beeping monitors, the clinical efficiency—it all felt surreal after the raw emotions on Mustafar.
“Step aside, you must.” The gravelly voice made Anakin turn slowly with hesitation. Master Yoda stood in the corridor, ancient eyes studying him with an intensity that made Anakin’s stomach clench. Senator Bail Organa was beside him, but Anakin barely registered his presence.
“Master Yoda,” Anakin whispered, and in his voice, there was neither arrogance nor anger—only a broken young man facing the disappointed gaze of someone he’d once desperately wanted to please.
Yoda’s eyes narrowed as he took in Anakin’s appearance—the yellow-tinged irises, the haunted expression, the way he held himself like someone expecting to be struck down at any moment. “Fallen to the dark side, you have,” Yoda stated, eyes thinning in suspicion.
“I...” Anakin started, then stopped. His memories were still fragmenting, reality bending and twisting around him. Had he really done all those terrible things? The younglings’ faces flashed before his eyes, and he staggered slightly. “I don’t...I can’t remember...”
“Remember, you cannot?” Yoda’s gimmer stick tapped against the floor. “Or remember, you will not?”
“Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan interjected, stepping between them. He could see Anakin beginning to shake, his breathing becoming erratic again. “Perhaps this isn’t the time—”
“The time for truth, it is,” Yoda said firmly. “Trust him, should we? When slaughtered younglings, and fellow Jedi he has? When joined the Sith, he has?”
At the word ‘younglings,’ Anakin made a sound like a wounded animal. His hands flew to his head, pressing against his temples as if he could physically force the memories away. “No...no, I wouldn’t...I couldn’t...” But the images were there, crystal clear now—small faces looking up at him with trust that turned to terror. His lightsaber, that had once been a symbol of protection, cutting them down without mercy.
“Did it, you did,” Yoda said relentlessly. “Felt their fear, I did. Felt their deaths.”
“Master!” Obi-Wan’s voice was sharp. “He helped me save Padmé. He’s here because he chose to help, not harm.”
Yoda’s ears flattened slightly, but his gaze remained fixed on Anakin, who was now doubled over, gasping for breath. “Choose now, he may but chosen before, also he did. Trust so easily given, led to this it has.”
“I know what I’ve done,” Anakin whispered, his voice barely audible. “I know I...I can see their faces. But I can’t...I don’t understand why. It doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real except...” His eyes darted to the birthing chamber where the medical droids worked frantically over Padmé. “Except her. She’s the only thing that makes sense anymore.”
“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan said quietly, “saving her—saving his children—that’s how he finds his way back.”
Yoda studied them both for a long moment, then sighed deeply. “A Sith, he is. Feel it, I can. Yet...” He paused, tilting his head as if listening to something only he could hear. “Clouded, the future remains. In motion," he hummed, "always in motion is the future.”
From the birthing chamber came the sound of a baby’s cry—strong, healthy, alive. Then another. Anakin straightened, his yellow eyes clearing to blue for the first time since they’d arrived. “The twins?”
“They are healthy,” came the medical droid’s announcement. “The mother, however...” the words hung in the air like a death sentence, and Anakin felt his world tilt on its axis once again.
“What do you mean ‘however’?” Anakin’s voice cracked as he pushed past Yoda toward the birthing chamber.
“She is medically stable,” the droid continued in its clinical tone, “but she appears to be losing the will to live. We cannot explain it.”
Anakin’s breathing became erratic again. The metaphorical precipice he’d been clinging to suddenly felt like it was crumbling beneath his fingers. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not after everything. Not after he’d chosen to help, chosen to save her...
Dark tendrils began whispering at the edges of his consciousness, seductive and familiar. You see? Even your mercy means nothing. She’s dying anyway. The Master promised you could save her... he could still save her. Return to him. Embrace what you are!
“She’s dying,” Anakin whispered, then louder, his voice breaking, “She’s dying! After everything, she’s still—” His hands flew to his head, pressing against his temples as the whispers grew louder. The Jedi have failed you again. Your pathetic attempt at redemption changes nothing. She will die, just as the Master said would happen with out him. Only he can still teach you the power to save her. It’s not too late. Beg for his forgiveness. Return to your true Master.
“Master... Master said he could save her,” Anakin mumbled, his words barely coherent as he swayed on his feet. “He promised... he said he knew how to stop death itself...”
Yoda’s ears flattened, his ancient eyes narrowing with recognition of what was happening. “Accept what cannot be changed, young Skywalker must,” he said, his voice taking on the tone of detached wisdom. “Remember what I have told you, Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force.”
At those words—those cold, clinical words said once again —something snapped in Anakin. His head whipped toward Yoda, eyes blazing pure gold now, pupils dilated with rage and desperation. “REJOICE?” he snarled, spittle flying from his lips. “She’s the mother of my children! My wife! And you want me to rejoice that she’s dying?!”
“If it is the will of the Force, not even you can change what is to be,” Yoda said, seemingly unmoved by Anakin’s fury. “I have said so once, again I shall tell you. Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.”
“I won’t lose her!” Anakin’s voice rose to a near-shriek, his hands curling into claws. “I won’t! I’d rather burn the entire galaxy than let her die! I’d kill every last Jedi if it meant saving her!” he snarled. The dark whispers roared in approval. Yes! You see the truth now! The Jedi offer only cold comfort while she dies. But your Master... he offers power. Real power. The power to save her.
“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice cut through the chaos like a lightsaber through the dark. He stepped between the two, his hands raised in a calming gesture. “Anakin, breathe. Just breathe.”
But Anakin was hyperventilating now, lost in the whispers and his fragmenting memories. “He said... Palpatine said he could teach me... the power over life and death... Plagueis the Wise...”
“Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan said sharply, not taking his eyes off Anakin. “Now is not the time for lessons about attachment.”
“When better time is there?” Yoda countered. “Choose, he must. The dark side or—”
“He’s having a breakdown!” Obi-Wan snapped, his patience finally fraying. “Look at him! This isn’t about choice anymore—his mind is fracturing!”
Anakin was muttering now, his voice switching between different tones as if he were having multiple conversations. “Master, I can still serve you... no, that’s not... Padmé needs... but he promised... I killed them, I killed them all, even the children... no, that wasn’t me... was it me? The younglings... their faces...” Anakin babbled incoherently.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly, moving closer despite the danger. “Look at me. Focus on my voice. You’re here, at Polis Massa. Your children they’re alive. They need their father.”
But the whispers were too loud now, drowning out everything else. You failed her. Just as you failed your mother. Just as you’ll fail everyone you try to protect. But your Master can still save her. He’s the only one who ever truly understood you.
Anakin’s yellow eyes rolled back, and for a moment it looked like he might collapse entirely. When he refocused, there was something cold and calculating in his gaze—something that made both Jedi take an involuntary step back.
“The Emperor is still alive,” he said quietly, his voice unnaturally calm. “He’s waiting for me.”
Notes:
Thank you for reading, and for your patience as this story unfolds, we aim to update weekly so, next week-the battle for Anakin's mind truly begins.
Comments and kudos are always appreciated - once again we thankyou so much for reading and we hope you enjoyed it!
Chapter 3
Summary:
Two Jedi must make a dangerous choice that could save them all... or damn them forever.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Anakin, no!” Obi-Wan reached out as Anakin turned toward the exit, his movements jerky and puppet-like. “You’re not thinking clearly—”
But Anakin was already moving, driven by something beyond his conscious will. The whispers in his mind had become a roar, drowning out everything else. Return to your Master. She dies without his power. Only he can save her.
Obi-Wan lunged forward grabbing Anakin’s arm and the moment they made contact, he reached out through the Force, desperately searching for their old training bond—the connection between master and padawan that had never been properly severed.
‘Anakin!’ he called through the Force, his mental voice cutting through the darkness. ‘I’m here. Focus on me.’ For a split second, their bond flared to life—and through it, Obi-Wan saw something that made his blood freeze.
Dark tendrils, oily and malevolent, wrapped around Anakin’s mind like chains. They pulsed with a sickening rhythm, and at their source was a presence Obi-Wan recognized with dawning horror: Palpatine. But worse than the mental shackles was what Obi-Wan could see flowing through them—
Life force. Padmé’s life force.
The energy was being siphoned from her through Anakin, drawn along the powerful Force bond that had formed between husband and wife. Anakin, as the Chosen One—the son of the Force itself—was acting as an unwilling conduit, his connection to Padmé being weaponized to slowly drain her life essence and feed it to his Sith Master.
“Master Yoda!” Obi-Wan gasped, maintaining his grip on Anakin even as the young man struggled against him. “Look deeper! Look into the Force—see what’s happening!”
Yoda’s ears flattened with irritation. “Time for mystical investigations, this is not—”
“LOOK!” Obi-Wan shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.
Grudgingly, Yoda extended his senses into the Force, probing deeper than surface emotions and intentions. What he found made the ancient Jedi Master stagger backward, his gimmer stick clattering to the floor. The dark tendrils were everywhere, wrapped not just around Anakin’s mind but extending outward like a web. Through Anakin’s bond with Padmé, Palpatine was slowly, methodically draining her life to sustain himself and strengthen his hold over his new apprentice. It was insidious, patient, and utterly horrifying in its calculated cruelty.
“Sith alchemy,” Yoda whispered, his voice filled with revulsion. “Using the boy as a... a conduit. Draining the Senator’s life through their bond.”
Anakin let out a keening wail, pressing his hands to his temples as if trying to physically tear the chains from his mind. “I can’t... I can’t stop it! He’s in my head, he’s using me to kill her, and I can’t—” His knees buckled, and Obi-Wan caught him before he could fall. Through their bond, Obi-Wan could feel the immense pressure bearing down on Anakin’s psyche—like a dam about to burst.
“We have to shield his mind,” Obi-Wan said urgently, looking up at Yoda. “If we can break the connection, stop the drain—”
“Dangerous, this is,” Yoda warned, moving closer despite his reservations. “Into the boy’s mind, go we must. But corrupted, it has become. Touch the dark tendrils we must not, or consumed we may be.”
From the birthing chamber came the sound of medical droids moving frantically. “The patient’s vital signs are continuing to decline,” one announced. “We’re losing her.”
Anakin let out another broken sound, his body convulsing. “Please,” he whispered, looking between them with eyes that flickered rapidly between gold and blue. “Please, I can feel her dying. I can feel him pulling her life away through me, and I can’t stop it. I’m killing her just by existing.”
Obi-Wan knelt beside his former padawan, placing both hands on either side of Anakin’s head. “Master Yoda, we need to do this now. Create a barrier around his mind—shield him from Palpatine’s influence.”
Yoda hesitated for only a moment more, then placed his clawed hands on Anakin’s shoulders. “Strong in the Force, you both are. But careful we must be. Forever lost to the darkness, we could.”
Together, the two Jedi reached into the Force, their combined will pressing against the oily darkness that had wrapped itself around Anakin’s mind. The moment they made contact with the Sith corruption, they could feel its malevolent hunger, its desire to spread and consume.
‘You cannot save him,’ came Palpatine’s voice, echoing through the Force connection. ‘He is mine now. And through him, she dies to feed my power.’
“Like hell,” Obi-Wan snarled, pouring every ounce of his strength into reinforcing the mental shields around Anakin’s consciousness.
The battle for Anakin Skywalker’s soul had truly begun.
Notes:
Thank you so much for your continued support and insightful comments—it means a lot to both Thea and I!
Until Next week! Thank you for reading!
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Summary:
Anakin’s fractured mind becomes a haunting labyrinth where past and present collide
Notes:
Aspects in this chapter are inspired by Fialleril's Tatooine Slave Culture.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Together, the two Jedi reached deeper into the Force, their combined will pressing against the oily darkness that had wrapped itself around Anakin’s mind. The moment they made contact with his subconscious, reality shifted around them.
They found themselves standing in what should have been the Jedi Temple...but it was wrong. Horribly, fundamentally wrong.
The familiar corridors were cracked and bleeding, as if the very walls themselves wept. The ceiling soared impossibly high into the darkness, while below their feet, the polished floors had transformed into shifting desert sand that whispered with the voices of the dead. The younglings’ training rooms were visible through doorways that flickered in and out of existence, sometimes showing laughing children, other times revealing only bloodstains and silence.
“A shattered mind,” Yoda murmured, his voice echoing strangely in this broken place. “Broken and twisted by the dark side.”
They moved deeper into the mindscape, following a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere . A child’s voice, singing softly in a language they didn’t recognize until it seemed to shift. As they walked, the Temple walls began to fade, replaced by the endless expanse of Tatooine’s desert. Twin suns burned overhead, but their harsh light cast no warmth, only the cold glare of memory and regret.
There, curled against what might have been the wall of a dessert hovel or might have been a pillar from the Temple-the distinction seemed to blur here-sat a small boy. Little Anakin Skywalker.
Ani.
He couldn’t have been more than nine years old, all tousled blonde hair and wide blue eyes, but around his small throat was a thick metal collar. Similar restraints circled his wrists and ankles, connected by chains that seemed to extend into the darkness beyond sight. The chains weren’t just metal- they pulsed with dark energy, feeding the boy’s life force to something hungry and distant...something dark.
The child was singing under his breath, a desert lullaby that spoke of gods and chains and freedom and a mothers love:
Hush little one, don’t cry little one,
Save your tears tonight,
The twin suns fall, the moons rise all,
But Depur still holds tight.
Sleep little one, be still little one,
Don’t let Depur see your fright,
For chains may bind what bodies find,
But spirits take their flight
“Ani?” Obi-Wan whispered, taking a step forward.
The boy’s head snapped up, eyes wide with terror. “Shh!” he hissed, pressing a small finger to his chapped lips. “You have to be quiet! He’ll hear you! He always hears everything!” The little boy curled back into himself continuing on singing to himself-the melody haunting the space between them.
Dream little one, hope little one,
Of Ekkreth's thousand tricks,
The Trickster flies through desert skies,
Where no chain ever sticks.
Sleep little one, be brave little one,
Though storms of sand may blow,
Ar-Amu keeps her children deep
Where Depur cannot go.
In the distance, echoing across the broken mindscape, came a sound that for reasons unknown to the two Jedi Master’s brought dread to the pits of their stomach- a mechanical breathing that echoed down the long corridor which seemed to glitch in a corridor of Star Destroyer.
*”Kkhssh-whooosh... kkhssh-whooosh...”*
“He promised,” little Ani whispered, tears tracking down his sand-dusted cheeks. “He promised he could save her. Save mama. Save Padmé. Save everyone. But he lied, didn’t he? He always lies. And now... now I can’t remember what’s real anymore.” The chains around the boy’s limbs clinked softly as he pulled his knees closer to his chest. Rocking back and forth. His child like voice harmonising with the strange haunting breathing.
Rest little one, my heart little one,
Though the desert winds may part,
Always know, where'er you go,
Your Family lives within your heart.
Through the Force, both Jedi could feel the immense weight of the restraints that bound the boy-the symbol of Anakin’s psychological chains of manipulation, trauma, and broken promises.
“Anakin,” Yoda said gently, lowering himself to the child’s eye level. “ Here to help you, we are.”
But Ani shook his head violently. “No, no, no! You’re not real. Nothing’s real. I’m in the suit, aren’t I? I’m trapped in the suit and this is all just... just dreams while I burn.”
The mindscape shifted around them, the desert sand giving way to the volcanic flows of Mustafar, then to sterile medical equipment, then to the bridge of a star destroyer, then back to the Temple, then to the market streets of Mos Espa where a small boy slaved away under scorching suns and dreamed of freedom.
“The boundaries between past, present, and possible future-collapsed, they have,” Yoda observed, his voice tight with concern. “Lost in time, the boy is. Living all his traumas at once.”
Obi-Wan knelt beside the child, careful not to touch the dark chains. “Ani, listen to my voice. You’re at Polis Massa. Padmé needs you. Your children need you.”
“Children?” The boy’s eyes flickered, showing a moment of hope before fear crashed back over his features. “No... no, I’ll hurt them too. I hurt everyone I love. That’s what he taught me. That’s what I am.”
The mechanical breathing grew closer, and with it came whispers in the dark—promises of power, threats of loss, the insidious voice that had slowly poisoned a child’s mind over years of careful manipulation. ‘You are nothing without me... You will lose everything... Only through me can you save them... Let go of hope... Embrace what you are...’
“We need to sever those chains,” Obi-Wan said urgently, turning to Yoda. “But if we touch them directly...”
“Consumed by the darkness, we will be, forever lost,” Yoda finished. “Yet leave the boy chained, we cannot. A way, there must be.”
The breathing was almost upon them now, and little Ani curled tighter into himself, his lullaby becoming a desperate whisper:
Hush little one, my brave little one,
Let the sand-dreams take you far,
Till the day when chains will break,
You shall be my brightest star.
In the real world, Anakin’s body convulsed, and from the birthing chamber came the medical droid’s voice: “The patient is failing. We’re losing her.”
Time was running out.
Notes:
Thank you for taking the time to read! We hope you enjoyed it.
The lullaby represents the enduring power of a mother's love and survival wisdom that's been passed down So even in his darkest moment, Shmi's voice still guides him. And the lullaby is inspired by Fialleril's Tatooine Slave Culture.
(Verse 1)
Hush little one, don't cry little one,
Save your tears tonight,
The twin suns fall, the moons rise all,
But Depur still holds tight.Sleep little one, be still little one,
Don't let Depur see your fright,
For chains may bind what bodies find,
But spirits take their flight.(Verse 2)
Dream little one, hope little one,
Of Ekkreth's thousand tricks,
The Trickster flies through desert skies,
Where no chain ever sticks.Sleep little one, be brave little one,
Though storms of sand may blow,
Ar-Amu keeps her children deep
Where Depur cannot go.(Verse 3)
Rest little one, my heart little one,
Though the desert winds may part,
Always know, where'er you go,
Your Family lives within your heart.Hush little one, my brave little one,
Let the sand-dreams take you far,
Till the day when chains will break,
You shall be my brightest star.Your comments and reactions mean the world to us. How are you feeling after this chapter? Hate it? Loved it? Somewhere in between?
And the battle for Anakin's soul continues in the next chapter...Until next week. Thank again for reading!
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Summary:
Past trauma and dark futures collide.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The mechanical breathing grew impossibly loud—*kkhssh-whooosh, kkhssh-whooosh*—until it was directly behind them. Both Jedi turned slowly, and what they saw made even Yoda’s ancient heart skip a beat.
A towering figure loomed in the shifting mindscape. The figure’s presence radiated malevolence and pain in equal measure but it couldn’t decide what it was. The form flickered and twisted between two futures-a towering being clad in black armor and cape, life-support system echoing the haunting sound that brought dread and then there was the terrible mask-its dark eyes devoid of all humanity. The other times it showed Anakin...but it wasn’t. Despite sharing the same face as his beloved friend, this creature was twisted with darkness that oozed power and destruction, his golden eyes glowing with hatred. Darth Vader Dark Lord of the Sith.
“Anakin?” Obi-Wan whispered, taking an involuntary step backwards.
The switching forms of Vader turned toward him, golden eyes burning like twin suns through the void of space. When it spoke, the voice was a growl that seemed to come from the depths of hell itself. “Anakin Skywalker is dead,” it’s voice was a perfect fusion of mechanical rasping and the smooth human voice of his friend.
“No,” Obi-Wan said firmly, though his voice shook. “That’s not true. You’re Anakin. You’re my—”
“Your what?” the dark figure snarled, advancing on them. As it moved, the mindscape around them began to shift and burn. The Temple walls cracked and bled lava, the desert sand beneath their feet became molten glass. “Your padawan? Your brother? Your friend?” Vader sneered.
Suddenly, the mindscape exploded into flames and the searing heat of Mustafar overlaid everything. They could see it—feel it—as if they were there all over again but this time Anakin’s broken body slid down the volcanic embankment, his robes and flesh catching fire, his screams echoing across the hellish landscape. Thoughts of the broken boy echoed around them as he burned: ‘Obi-Wan don’t leave me! I hate him! Don’t leavemeIHateyouDon’tLeave! He said he loved me..why did he leave? Why didn’t he end it?. .’
“How?” Obi-Wan demanded, horror clear in his voice as the burning vision repeated over and over around them. “What happened? This... this never happened! I never left you! We’re at Polis Massa!” Obi-wan’s voice shook, physically flinching as flames consumed living flesh.
But Vader’s form ignored him, the mechanical voice intoning with deadly certainty: “I am what you MADE me.”
“No!” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked. “That NEVER happened! You helped me save Padmé! You chose-”
But Vader had ceased to listen too long ago. The dark figure raised one armored hand, and a blood-red lightsaber ignited with a sinister hiss. The blade seemed to drink in the light around them, making the mindscape even darker and more twisted. “I will destroy you,” Vader growled, taking a step forward. “As you destroyed me.”
Behind them, little Ani let out a terrified whimper. The chains around his small body suddenly went taut, and he was dragged backward into the darkness, his desperate screams echoing through the fractured mindscape.
“HELP ME!” the child cried, his small hands reaching out toward Obi-Wan and Yoda. “Please don’t let him take me! Don’t let me disappear!” But the chains-those oily, malevolent tendrils of Sith corruption-were too strong. Little Ani was pulled into the abyss, his voice becoming fainter and fainter until only silence remained.
“You see?” Vader’s mechanical voice was almost triumphant. “The child is gone. The man is gone. There is only what remains. Only the machine.” Golden eyes burned, “ Only the monster.” The red lightsaber hummed as Vader prepared to strike.
In the real world, Anakin’s body began to convulse more violently, and from the birthing chamber came another urgent announcement: “We’re losing them both. The mother and the babies.”
Obi-Wan and Yoda stood in the fractured mindscape, facing down the very embodiment of their failure. A Vader that represented not what Anakin had become, but what he feared he would become if they couldn’t save him.
And somewhere in the darkness, the chains that had dragged away the child began to rattle, as if something was trying to break free.
Notes:
Thank you so much for reading and staying with us. We hope you liked this chapter. We would love to hear your thoughts.
What do you think is trying to break free at the end of the chapter?
Thanks again for reading and the next chapter will be up next week.
Chapter 6: Chapter 6
Summary:
Obi-Wan and Yoda fight the dark vision within Anakin’s mindscape. Despair threatens to consume him.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Obi-Wan ignited his own blade, the blue light cutting through the oppressive darkness. “I know Anakin is still alive and I won’t let you destroy him!”
The battle was fierce and desperate. Vader fought with mechanical precision and overwhelming power, especially here in the darkness that had consumed Anakin’s mind. Each clash of their sabers sent shockwaves through the fractured mindscape, causing the Temple walls to crack further, the desert sand to shift and burn. Molten waves crashed against stone.
Yoda moved like a blur of green light, his lightsaber a beacon in the darkness, but even the ancient Master struggled against this manifestation of everything Anakin feared he would become.
“Strong with the dark side, this vision is,” Yoda grunted, deflecting a vicious overhead strike. “Fed by fear and despair, stronger, it grows!”
As the battle raged, the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. The sand quivered with an approaching presence-something vast and ancient, something that belonged to the desert world.
They heard it first. The rattle of chains, but not the oily tendrils of Sith corruption. These chains sang with a different tone. The sound of metal breaking, of shackles shattering, of freedom being born. The shriek of straining metal, as if the very foundations of slavery itself were being torn apart.
And then...a roar.
A roar so loud, so primal, so filled with rage and love and protective fury that both Jedi could feel it reverberating in their bones, in their souls, in the very Force itself. The desert sand erupted like a geyser, and from the depths burst forth a creature of myth and legend-a dragon.
The great beast was something ancient and eternal-an elemental god condensed into flesh and bone. Its scales shimmered like the twin suns of Tatooine, gold and bronze and the deep red of desert rock. Its eyes burned with the blue of a clear desert sky, and its massive form moved with the fluid grace of desert winds across the dunes. The creature was enormous, its presence filled the entire mindscape, but its fury was directed solely at the dark figure of Vader. With one massive paw, it pinned the manifestation of fear and self-loathing to the shifting sands.
“You,” the dragon’s voice rumbled like distant thunder, like the song of ancient winds on a thousand different worlds, “are not who I am.”
Vader struggled beneath the dragon’s weight, his red lightsaber flickering and dying and being swallowed by the shifting sands. “I am what you become” he snarled, “! What you were always destined to-”
“No.” The dragon’s voice was gentle now, but implacable as stone. Its great head lowered until it was eye-level with the trapped figure. “I am Anakin Skywalker. I am the desert child who dreamed of freedom. I am the one who breaks chains, not the one who forges them. I am the slave who makes others free.” The dragon’s maw opened slightly, revealing teeth that gleamed like a galaxy of stars. “I will never be you.” And with that declaration-that fundamental rejection of everything Sidious had tried to make him become-the dragon consumed the manifestation of Vader.
The great dragon turned its star-bright eyes toward where the child had disappeared. It breathed out a gentle wind that carried the scent of freedom—of pod-racing and tinkering with droids and a mother’s lullabies under twin suns and from that warm wind, little Ani emerged and the chains that had bound Ani, those bitter chains that had dragged him into darkness, suddenly shattered like glass. The pieces fell away, turning to stardust as they touched the desert sand.
The dragon’s form began to shimmer and fade, its massive presence condensing, transforming. Where the mythical beast had been, now stood a young man with sandy hair and eyes like the desert sky—Anakin Skywalker as he was meant to be, as he could still become.
“I remember now,” he said softly, looking at his hands as if seeing them for the first time. “I remember who I am.”
The desert around them was no longer a wasteland of fear and broken memories. The sand was warm and golden, the air filled with the promise of rain and the distant sound of children laughing. The fractured Temple became a place of learning once more, its walls whole and bright.
“The dragon,” Yoda whispered in amazement. “The true spirit of the desert child. The chain-breaker awakened.”
Anakin looked up at them both, and for the first time in so long, his smile was pure and unguarded. “Master, Master Yoda. I’m ready to go home now.”
In the real world, Anakin’s convulsions ceased. His breathing steadied. And his eyes, when they opened, were clear blue once more.
Notes:
Thank you so much for reading. We hope you liked it. We would love to know your thoughts. See you next week!
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Summary:
With Padmé and the twins safe but weak, Anakin and his allies regroup
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The medical droids had finished their work. Padmé lay sleeping peacefully, her vital signs stable but weak. The twins—Luke and Leia—rested in their warming cradles, healthy and strong, their tiny hands occasionally reaching toward each other through the transparisteel barriers.
Everyone was exhausted. The battle in Anakin’s mind had taken an enormous toll on all of them. Obi-Wan slumped in a chair beside Padmé’s bed, his face pale and drawn. Yoda leaned heavily on his gimmer stick, his ears drooping with fatigue. Even the ancient Jedi Master looked older than his nine hundred years and Anakin sat on the edge of his wife’s bed, one hand gently stroking her hair, the other resting protectively over the twins’ cradles. He looked hollow eyed but present-more present than he’d been in months.
It was then that Senator Bail Organa made his presence known. He’d been waiting respectfully in the corridor, giving the family and the Jedi time to recover, but now he stepped forward with quiet authority. “My friends,” he said softly, his voice filled with relief and concern. “I have a safe place prepared. Somewhere we can all gather our strength and decide what comes next.”
Anakin’s head snapped up, his jaw setting with determination. “We don’t have time for rest, Senator. We have to go face Sidious. He’s still out there, still poisoning the galaxy. I can feel him—” He pressed a hand to his temple, wincing. “The connection is weakened, but it’s still there. Every moment we delay, more people die.”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently but firmly shaking his head, “you’re in no condition to face anyone right now. None of us are.” He gestured to their small group. “Look at us. We can barely stand, let alone take on the most powerful Sith Lord in a millennium.”
“Besides,” Bail added pragmatically, “rushing in without a plan is exactly what Palpatine would expect-We need to think this through. Coordinate with other survivors and build something sustainable.”
Anakin started to protest, his old impatience flaring, but then his shoulders sagged. The truth was, he could feel how depleted he was—physically, mentally, spiritually. The chains Palpatine had wrapped around his mind for over a decade had left deep scars, wounds that would take time to heal...if ever.
A familiar series of beeps and whistles echoed through the medical bay as R2-D2 rolled up to the group, followed by the anxious, shuffling gait of C-3PO.
“Oh my!” the golden droid exclaimed, his photoreceptors taking in the scene. “Master Anakin, you look dreadful! Are you quite alright?” the droid babbled, “The odds of surviving severe psychological trauma intact are approximately—”
“Threepio,” Anakin interrupted wearily, but with a ghost of his old fondness.
R2-D2 bumped gently against Anakin’s leg, letting out a series of concerned chirps and whistles. The little droid had been with him through thick and thin, and his loyalty had never wavered, even through the darkest times. Anakin reached down and patted R2’s dome, his mechanical hand steady while his flesh hand trembling slightly as he held on to Padme’s lax hand. “I’m sorry, buddy,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for... for everything I put you through. ” His voice cracked. “But I’m better now. At least... better than what I was.” He looked up at the others, “I’m sorry, I don’t expect your forgiveness...and I know words are not enough-nothing will change what I did...”
“It wasn’t just you Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, he eyes sorrowful, “you were manipulated and used.”
His blue eyes were haunted but clear. “I can still feel the scars, you know. In my mind. The places where his chains dug in deepest. The whispers might be gone, but the damage...” He shook his head. “It’s going to take time to heal. More time than we might have.”
“Then we make the time,” Bail said decisively. “I have a safe house on a remote world in the Mid Rim—Alderaan is too well-known and to close to Coruscant- but there’s a place on Kenari. An old mining station that’s been converted. It’s off the major hyperspace routes, well-hidden, and I’ve been keeping it supplied for months in case something like this happened.” He paused, looking at each of them in turn. “We can rest there, plan there and when we’re ready-when you’re ready, Anakin-we’ll face Palpatine together. Not as broken refugees, but as a unified force.”
Yoda nodded slowly. “Wise, this course is. Rush into battle unprepared, and victory we will not achieve. Time to heal, time to plan-both these things, need to do, we must.”
Anakin looked down at Padmé’s sleeping face, then at his newborn children. For so long, he’d been driven by fear...fear of loss, fear of failure, fear of not being strong enough to protect those he loved but now, for the first time, he felt something different.
Hope.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “ Kenari it is. But Bail—” He looked up at the Senator with eyes that held steel beneath the exhaustion. “When we do face him, I want to be the one. He used me to hurt so many people. He has to answer for that.”
“When the time comes,” Bail promised, “you’ll have your chance.”
As the medical droids prepared Padmé and the twins for transport, and as their small group prepared to leave Polis Massa for the safety of the Mid Rim, none of them could know that this moment-this choice to heal before fighting-would change the fate of the galaxy.
The chains had been broken. Now it was time to forge something new.
Notes:
Thank you so much for reading! This chapter is a quieter moment after the chaos. Your continued support and thoughts mean everything to us!
Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Summary:
At the Kenari safe house, survivors find unexpected healing and connection.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Kenari Safe House
The converted mining station had become something none of them had dared hope for-home.
Bail had been true to his word. The facility was well-hidden, well-supplied, and spacious enough for their growing family of survivors. Because that's what they had become, against all odds. A family forged from loss and held together by hope.
They weren't alone anymore.
Ahsoka had found them first, her bond with Anakin pulling her and Rex across the galaxy like a beacon in the darkness. The reunion had been a storm of tears and tentative embraces—too much had happened, too much had changed—but they were together once more. When Ahsoka first saw the twins, her breath caught. When she watched Anakin cradle his children, his whole being transformed by love, she knew with absolute certainty that Maul had been wrong. Completely wrong.
Rex had approached more cautiously, Order 66 still a weight that threatened to crush his soul. But when Anakin dropped to his knees before him, voice shattering as he apologized for everything the clones had been forced to endure, for not believing Fives, for failing his brothers. Rex simply placed a weathered hand on his former general's shoulder.
"Sir," he said quietly, "we all did things we didn't want to do."
On the insistence of Rex, The Bad Batch arrived a month later, bringing with them Omega-a bright spark of wonder who lit up every room she entered. Her eyes went wide at everything: the babies, the faithful droids, the legendary Jedi she'd only heard whispered about in clone barracks. Even Anakin, growing more somber with each passing day under the weight of Order 66, found himself smiling at her infectious joy.
It was Yoda who finally confronted what they all could see building inside Anakin like a slow poison.
"Speak of the Temple, we must," the Grand Master said one evening, his ancient voice gentle but inexorable as time itself. They sat alone in the station's common area, surrounded by the soft hum of life support systems that created a cocoon of fragile peace.
Anakin's hands stilled on the datapad he'd been pretending to read.
"I know what you want to know," he said, his voice steady but hollow as a broken bell. "You deserve the truth. All of it."
And so he spoke. The words came like blood from a wound—slow, then faster, then unstoppable. He spoke of the younglings, his voice fracturing as he described their faces, the trust that had turned to terror, then to nothing at all. He spoke of fellow knights and beloved mentors cut down by his blade.
"I remember *everything*," he whispered, hands trembling like autumn leaves. "Every face. Every voice. I told myself it wasn't me, that it was Vader, that it was the dark side... but it was my hand on the lightsaber. My choice to kneel. My weakness that let him in."
The silence that followed was deafening...until Rex's voice cut through it like a lifeline.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
Anakin looked up, startled. "Rex, you don't need to-"
"Yes, I do." The clone captain stepped forward, posture rigid with military formality, but his eyes held infinite gentleness. "What you did was unforgivable. Those younglings, those Jedi-they didn't deserve what happened."
Anakin's shoulders crumbled inward. "No. They didn't."
"But," Rex continued, his voice fierce with conviction, "I've seen what those chips could do. Felt them clawing at my mind... and what Palpatine did to you wasn't a chip, sir. It was *years* of poison, dripped into your thoughts until you couldn't tell right from wrong." His gaze grew distant, heavy with shared grief. "My brothers... we all have blood on our hands. But you're sitting here facing it. You chose not to fight Obi-Wan. You chose to be better—to do better."
Over the months that followed, Yoda spent countless hours with Anakin, rebuilding what the darkness had shattered. "Strong with the Force, you are," the ancient master would say with infinite patience, "but broken-twisted, your connection became. Rebuild it, we must. Piece by piece, moment by moment."
~~**~~
The twins became everyone’s unexpected salvation. Luke seemed drawn to the mechanical symphony of Tech’s work, gurgling with delight whenever the Enhanced clone was nearby, while also calming instantly to the steady rumble of Wrecker’s laughter. Leia appeared fascinated by Hunter’s quiet presence and would track his movements with wide eyes, but she also seemed to recognize Rex’s command voice, settling when he spoke in gentle tones. Even Crosshair, despite his usual aloofness, could be found occasionally making soft clicking sounds that somehow always made both babies smile. Echo’s gentle patience with their needs reminded everyone why he’d been such a good brother to his fellow clones. But Leia had already begun showing her iron will-she would only settle for true sleep when she could sense both parents close, as if her infant heart knew how precious and fragile their newfound peace truly was.”
Padmé had recovered her physical strength, though emotional scars ran deeper than bacta could reach. She watched Anakin with eyes that held both love and wariness, slowly learning to trust again as she witnessed his daily struggle to become the man she'd married.
"She smiles like you," Padmé whispered one evening, watching Anakin cradle Leia while she fed Luke.
Anakin studied his daughter's face, memorizing every perfect detail. "She has your eyes."
"She has your determination," Padmé replied, her smile soft as starlight.
"And Luke has your kindness," Anakin murmured back, his voice full of wonder at this miracle they'd created together.
Obi-Wan had appointed himself the twins' unofficial guardian, often found reading ancient Jedi texts that they had picked up on their scouting missions to abandoned temples or he was humming to them half-remembered Stewjoni lullabies from his childhood. The sight of the stern Jedi Master making ridiculous faces to coax baby giggles became a daily source of gentle joy.
"You're spoiling them," Anakin observed one afternoon, watching Obi-Wan bottle-feed Luke while maintaining a running commentary about proper tea brewing techniques.
"Someone has to," Obi-Wan replied with mock severity. "Their father is far too serious these days."
It was meant as a jest, but it struck deeper than either expected. Anakin was more serious now-the weight of his actions had burned away his old recklessness, leaving behind someone far older than his twenty-two years. A man marked by profound regret but also blazing with desperate determination to be worthy of his second chance.
As months passed, their refugee camp transformed into something miraculous. A chosen family bound not by blood but by shared loss, shared hope, and the fierce love that bloomed in the spaces between grief. They trained together, preparing for the inevitable confrontation with the Empire. The Bad Batch shared intelligence gathered from their reconnaissance missions and Bail-on his bimonthly visits- coordinated with growing Rebel cells across the galaxy.
Yet perhaps the most vital work happened in the quiet moments between-Anakin teaching Omega hyperdrive mechanics, her laughter bright as twin suns, Padmé singing Naboo lullabies while Obi-Wan and Yoda debated philosophy in gentle, familiar rhythms. Rex and Echo sharing war stories with Hunter and Crosshair, finding healing in shared understanding.
"The younglings I failed," Anakin said one evening as he sat with Yoda on the observation deck, distant stars bearing witness to his vigil. "Their names were Sors Bandeam, Zett Jukassa, Ross Tox..."
He continued reciting each name he could remember-a nightly ritual of remembrance, of honouring those he'd wronged.
"Remember them, you should," Yoda agreed softly. "But punish yourself forever, you must not. Live to honour their memory-this, the path forward it is."
Luke chose that moment to wake in Yoda's arms, blinking up at the ancient Jedi Master with curious blue eyes that seemed to hold galaxies. Without thinking, Yoda began bouncing the baby gently, humming an old Coruscanti nursery rhyme that predated the Republic itself.
"Strong in the Force, this one is," he observed with a rare smile. "But gentle, like his mother. Balance, he will bring you. Both of them will."
Anakin watched his son reach for Yoda's ears with tiny, grasping hands-so trusting, so innocent, so full of possibility. "No pressure, little one," he murmured, and for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, his smile held genuine warmth.
They still had to face Palpatine. They still had to find a way to heal the galaxy the Empire had broken. But for now, in this perfect moment suspended between past and future, they had something they'd thought lost forever-hope, and the precious chance to become better than they were.
The dragon had shattered its chains at last.
Now it was time to learn how to soar.
Notes:
Thank you so much for reading! Every comment means the world, and we’re grateful for your thoughts!
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