I don't own Star Wars.
The small dwelling Shmi lived in was so quiet now. It had been that way for months, ever since Anakin had left. Each morning at dawn, she woke up. After a small, quick meal, she went to Watto's shop. She had been working their nonstop since Anakin had left. Since he had left, Shmi was Watto's only slave.
The pudgy Toydarian had been bad-tempered ever since the boy left. Though he was only a child, Anakin was extremely capable. He could fix anything. He could build anything. He could also podrace. Shmi was nearly as good as her son was with technology, but she could not podrace. Howerever, she was still a precious asset to Watto's meager wealth.
Shmi had once been very beautiful. Though she was aging and feeling the effects of a slave's life, some of that beauty was still retained.
Slave women were very valuable on the market. Schmi could do a vast variety of tasks and trades. That made her even more valuable.
And if the price was right, Watto would sell her. He doubted her would get an offer from a prosperous hutt in search of entertainers, but there were many less extravagant moisture farmers and slavers always looking for a trade.
Until then, she would continue doing menial labor; tasks that her son had used to do, as well as her original chores. Her presence was a painful reminder to Watto of the priceless slave he had lost; along with other fortunes on that fateful day. And Watto was a reminder to Shmi of a child she had lost.
Anakin's freedom should have made her grateful. She should have been happy that Watto was willing to part with him at all. He didn't deserve a life like hers. But Watto didn't deserve her thanks.
He had used Anakin. He had gambled him away in his own personal greed. It was another harsh example that proved how little say in their own lives slaves had.
Shmi sometimes wondered what would have happened had someone other than Qui-Gon Jinn freed Anakin. The fact that a Jedi had come to fufill Anakin's dreams had seemed like a miracle at the time. Yet now, every time she considered it, she reached one conclusion. It was destiny that had brought Qui-Gon to Anakin.
It was always 'brought Qui-Gon to Anakin,' never 'brought Qui-Gon to them.' Why? Because their paths were not connected to Shmi's; hers didn't cross with Qui-Gon's as Ani's did. It was Anakin's destiny, not love's destiny.
Not love's destiny, because Shmi loved Anakin. If she had it her way, they would somehow be together, in a better place. It was also love's destiny, because she had been so sure that she had felt some sort of attachment Qui-Gon Jinn; a romantic attachment. But the Jedi had been nothing but oblivious to Shmi's feelings.
Now they both were gone. She had always told Anakin that love would get them through anything. But now, she was not so sure.
One day, Shmi cleaned a pit droid and Watto lounged in his chair behind the counter, lazily waving the few credits in his hand to an empty store, besides the two of them. He grouchily remarked, "Business was much better with the boy here, me think."
Shmi didn't reply. Watto flapped his wings until he hovered above his chair. "The outlander swindled me. I don't know how, but I was swindled," he said in Huttesse.
"All of your betting was done fairly," Shmi responded back in the same language.
"They think we know nothing," Watto continued, scowling. "Had I not put my foot down, he would have run off with you, too! How ye like that?"
Shmi hoped her Master didn't expect a reply.
"Answer me," Watto snapped.
"I don't know where the outlander took him," Shmi finally said. "I do not know what would become of me."
"You would-a not survive it," Watto said harshly. He turned around and retreated to the back of the store. Schmi knew why the exchange had occurred. Watto had occasionally done it in the past to keep her and Anakin in check; to show them how lucky they were.
In truth, Shmi did know where Anakin was. He was a Jedi with Qui-Gon. But that information was best kept private.
Watto's words had a deeper meaning than he could have possibly intended. It reminded her of destinies; how love had not sealed them, but the force had. It worked in strange ways. And it had left her alone.
The bell hanging over the door chimed as the first customer of the day came in. Shmi turned to see who it was. A moisture farmer, in a simple tunic and wearing a beard streaked with gray, was already inspecting the droids lining the walls.
"Good day to you," Shmi greeted in basic. The moisture farmer turned to look at her.
"Good morning," He said. His voice was kind yet polite.
Shmi didn't have any time to say anything else. Watto had appeared, and the bartering had begun. She went back to work, but kept her ears open.
After fifteen minutes of the farmer's business-talk with Watto, she knew she admired Cliegg Lars very much.
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