Notes: This story is based in no small part on a wonderfully theoretical video dealing with mythology and reincarnation as seen in the Star Wars mythos. The first part can be found here: watch?v=PkoY5MJ2pxY
Formatting for this site is close to impossible so I've done what I could to separate each time fragment. Hopefully you can distinguish between them. :) Enjoy!
She lowered him gingerly into a limestone basin, doubling the tried and torn rags underneath to serve as best a cushion as was possible. There was not much luxury to provide for the newborn of a slave.
Shmi turned, beckoned to the waning lustre of the fire. Gardulla had shown a rare kindness in accomodations after her pregnancy-this place, though unfurnished, was enough.
Mos Eisley nights would not be kind to her son.
Her son. She gave the flame her worried brow, her parted mouth, her self-held arms. Though not one to question the changing seasons, any more than the setting suns, she was afraid. What nature of blessing came with entrusting her, Shmi Skywalker, to a baby boy? A boy who would know endless work, deceptive dealings, the harsh glare of servitude?
The answer crept through her tangles of hair, sloped down into her eyes.
He will outshine them. She thought to her first moments nursing, the expression he'd given her, bright, in shadow. Resolved. Assured. Trusting. And though she'd thought it a trick of her own mind, this brief infallibility, she was now confirmed.
I will guide you. I will love you. But you will shine.
Anakin.
/She found her attentions more finely pricked on mention of the Jedi Council these passing days. More often than not, a border dispute had righted itself or a series of raids were brought to a close. Posture was expected of a newly appointed senator, but she curved, undetected, to listen.
He would be fourteen- as old as she when trusted to rule. Would their teachings blur his spirit?
Are you an angel?
My caring for you will remain.
Padme readjusted to eye the hologram critically. Palpatine drawled evenly, and she would absorb all avenues of unrest within her authority to rectify. Yes. Duty. Prosperity, compassion, love. Peace. Padme Amidala embodied these things.
They're the most beautiful creatures in the Universe.
And Padme Naberrie?
Her life had been laid down in service to order, here, began on this lush planet of endless green where her play was few and hers skills seized.
Where was her green? Where did the spirit of her people end and her private concerns begin?
Does he remember what he saw so clearly?
/It-she-watched herself delivered towards the sinking sun. Naboo's processions were as beautiful as any celebration, and she liked to think herself responsible. Somewhere, an uglier commencement was underway, another beginning of her doing.
He'll believe for his life that he'd killed her.
No Ani. I was stronger. And when you're ready, you can join us.
The coffin continued without him.
/The princess' features unnerved him. Defiant, young, unlike his private ghost, but pure in the way that could save a galaxy.
We owe you everything Ani.
Her hair was worn in much the same way.
Something wonderful has happened.
She looked up, into his mask, neither terrified nor regretful. Her doe eyes blackened, her jaw set. It was her lack of compassion tha made this interrogation that much easier.
Lord Vader.
Stop now, come back. I love you.
The probe droid advanced.
/It was now or never.
Timing was everything to a skilled smuggler. Simple tricks and non-such aside. She was ready, she was beginning to know how she felt.
"Hey."
She didn't snap her neck to look back at him, as he'd expected. No did her cheeks flush or her mouth curl with regal distaste. She didn't rush to deny what'd happened only moments before. He was right.
"Hey," she answered in key. It was amazing how like him she could sound. Like a cards close, smooth-talking scoundrel.
He took a breath to make some small piece of reassurance, maybe a half apology: instead he found himself watching her dirty hand clutch at her jackets' zipper.
/Om mani padme hum.
Their consciousness sailed about each other, dipping down, launching high, twirling in an interchanging helix of light and feeling. She joined a firework, a sign of the times, let herself fall to brush him. He rippled. They were not finished, but they could rest. They could play, as before, only now he was love and she was power.
Your presence is soothing.
Peace lasts until trial beckons. He would leave her again, soon.
From below, on a dying battle station, a young son shouldered his fathers body onto an escape pod.
/He thought for the thousandth time that he should remove his mask to see her. He'd spent so many hours in this room, both for useful interrogation and antagonistic sport. Sometimes for momentary reflection.
But her occupation here, confined, with him, was if only slightly dizzying. Like he'd secreted something, a ration where there was none, or a locket, a precious metal always meant to be his. He could have that, right? This girl could be both useful, and amusing, Supreme Leader would surely allow that?
She was dressed in desert rags, painfully thin...but blessed with fierce beauty, he must admit. It vaguely occurred to him, when Leia would recollect her own mother in passing, he remembered her description in this girl.
He remembered raising his hand as if to crush her little neck, her flurry of defense before that moment. He remembered hearing an objection, somewhere in the farthest rim of her wide, brown eyes- a debt, a guilt, an impossibility to harm. And now something soothing, something she somehow must appreciate, too. But it might take convincing.
The girl gasped, jerking her head forward. "Where am I?"
"You're my guest," he said warmly.
/She felt herself delivered towards the Destroyer's main hangar.
He had to know. There was a place in time where everything is right and she had to tell him. He could still love his mother, his uncle, she could stay with them, this all could end..
The coffin was set down, the lid opened.
Ben. We can be free.