For Love & Duty
Chlorine ice eyes stared out at her from underneath an unruly mop of crimson hair. Eyes that once shone and danced with love and happiness now glinted with the hardness of durasteel.
"Hello, mother dearest."
His tone was clear, but the acidity behind his words was easily recognisable to her. The choice of phrase seemed fitting for the occasion; the formality of the word 'mother' revealed the seriousness of what was to come.
No matter what happened today, it would be the last time they would see each other alive.
"Hello, son."
Her tone was equally as clear and bitter, giving away no hint of the sadness she felt in her heart.
It was a front; a cleverly veiled attempt to keep her son from using her feelings against her. So far, it was working, but she knew that wouldn't last long.
Her son patted the hilt of his lightsaber, the glossy black metal casting an eerie glow in the dimly-lit room as it caught a stray beam of light.
She fingered her own weapon, the coldness of the handle on her skin sending a shiver up her spine.
"So tell me, mother," he said, side-stepping towards her. "How is father?"
A cold knot of anger twisted in her heart at his words, and her breath caught in her throat.
Her barriers were down now. They'd lasted even less than she had hoped.
Her son's brow creased in amusement at her vulnerability, as the last of her mental blockades dissolved into the force. She watched in disgust as his mouth twisted into a taunting smirk as he began to circle her, like a predator would his prey.
Regaining her composure somewhat, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Despite her calm exterior, she knew he could still feel the darkness inside her, constricting her heart and warping her perception.
"You know very well how your father is," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly with her rising emotions.
His smirk turned into deathly cackle. He stopped his methodical pacing so that he was standing in front of her, his face inches from hers.
"You're right, mother."
The skin around his mouth hardened as his grin widened, revealing two rows of jagged, pearly white teeth beneath his thin lips. His manic grin was proof enough that he felt no remorse for what he had done.
"Then perhaps," he leered, "the question should be 'how are you?'"
She could feel his warm breath as he spoke, tickling her lips and flowing through her senses. The sensation almost made her gag. Just like the rest of him, it, too, was radiating darkness.
He took the feeling of repulsion in the force as a reaction to his words, and not his being, and let another short laugh escape his lips. "Do not fret, mother dearest. You will join father soon enough."
A low hiss echoed around the small interrogation room as he ignited his weapon, taking a step back to ready himself for combat.
She did the same, her emerald sword snapping to life in her hands, the pale green light a contrast to the deep red of her son's.
"Don't be so sure," she told him menacingly. "I may be old, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve."
Their sabers arced as one, coming together for the first time with a static hiss.
He severed their connection, swinging around with an under-handed cut and narrowly missing her lower thigh as she parried out of range.
A metal chair flew at her from across the room, and her legs bent at the knees instinctively, saving her from the force attack. The chair splintered into a thousand tiny, jagged pieces with a resounding crack against the wall behind her.
She rolled out of her crouching position, the movement allowing her to cut at her son's stationary feet with her blazing sword.
He easily leapt over the glowing blade and kicked out at her with a booted foot. The thick sole made contact with her face, the force of the impact slamming her into the hard durasteel wall.
Her blade slipped from her fingers as she slumped to the floor, the green-white shutting down as the metallic hilt clattered against the cold, hard ground.
For the briefest of moments, she couldn't move or breathe, but her son ignored the opportunity to finish the fight, opting instead to close down his lightsaber and kneel at her side.
She knew better than to think he cared about her. This was all just a sick game to him, and right now, he was just toying with her.
"A few tricks up your sleeve, you say?" he mocked, his fierce eyes flashing. He called her sedentary blade to his hands with the force and held it out for her to take. "Come on, then. Show me."
Rising on shaking legs, she took the blade out of his grasp and ignited it once more. He stepped away from her until his back was resting against the opposite wall and held his weapon out in front of him, but he didn't ignite it.
He wants me to make him ignite it, she realised, remembering the game he and his father used to play, back when he was still a young boy.
The memory of her late husband brought a fresh wave of grief to the surface, the pain cascading down her rosy cheeks in the form of tears, until she was able to tear herself away from bitter memories, replacing the emotion with gritty determination.
If he wanted to play this game with her, then she'd play along.
She charged at him, swinging her blade high above her head, and calling on the force to accelerate her action. He parried out of her attack, his feet turning in a tight arc, and the hilt of his blade hanging from his grasp, still switched off.
Groaning, she tried again, swinging lower this time. Her saber met its crimson partner with a hiss, and she smirked in triumph. He glowered at her as he struggled to regain his balance from her last attack. "Not bad, mother. Clearly, you've been training for this."
"Either that, or you're a little rusty."
Her comment hit a raw nerve, and he cut his blade at her head aggressively. She dodged the attack easily and used the force to knock him off his feet.
"Lesson number one: never attack in a fit of anger," she recited smugly, "or you're bound to let your guard down."
He brought his blade up to block hers as he leaned up against the wall, his expression a combination of visceral resentment and resolve.
"Don't tell me-this-is-all you've-got?" he grunted through slashes, rising to his feet once more to meet a particularly nasty jab from his mother.
Intense, focused light struck out, making contact with his black robes in reply.
The smell of searing flesh wafted into the air, and he did well not to make a sound as her blade came around for a second slice at his arm.
Ignoring the pain coursing through his nervous system, he threw his crimson lightsaber in the air, sending it spinning in his mother's direction.
As she struggled to knock the unrestrained weapon out of the way, he brought his hands up in front of his body and pushed out with the force, the vibrant tendrils of force lightning bathing the darkened room in a ghostly blue-white glow.
The first wave of force lightning hit her full on, charring her insides with its burning power, and bringing her to her knees. She could hear her son's manic laughter as she struggled against the attack, attempting to retrieve her fallen weapon in her weakened state.
The lightning stopped for a second, and she was able to catch her breath. It came in short, laboured rasps, and her lungs screamed for relief. A strand of red-gold hair had come loose from her braid, clinging to her moist forehead.
She looked up into his eyes – her son's eyes – and saw nothing but enjoyment and hatred.
He was toying with her again.
Blowing the strand of hair out of her line of vision, she called her weapon to her outstretched hand and straightened to her full height - half a foot shorter than her son, but no less deadly.
His expression softened slightly as she limped toward him, his mouth curling into a pitying smile. "Haven't you had enough yet?" he asked, raising his hands toward her once more.
"Not until I've finished this," she choked out, lifting her sword once more in her trademark battle stance.
Her son gave himself to the force yet again, only this time she was ready for his attack.
She caught the next wave of blue lightning on the tip of her sword and held it in place with shaking hands.
But it was no use. The more she pushed out with the force, the stronger the lightning became, slowly driving her back until she was sandwiched between the wall and her son.
He was on top of her now, his breath a whisper in her ear.
"And you thought you were a match for me," he gloated, re-igniting his lightsaber for the last time and scoring the tip down her cheekbone.
She flinched in pain, but said nothing.
This was it. The end was near.
Drawing away slightly from her battered body to raise his sword for the final strike, her son let his guard down for a split second.
A split second was all she needed.
Grasping her saber in a strong force grip, she plummeted the blazing tip straight through the centre of his heart. He stopped mid-movement, his arms locking in place above his head, and his weapon slipping from his fingers, cutting out as it bounced on the floor.
She watched as her son gasped for air in front of her, dangling off her blade like a limp doll. In one heartbreaking moment, he took his final, shuddering breath, before passing into the force.
The last of the Sith was gone.
She had managed to subjugate the greatest evil the galaxy had seen since Emperor Palpatine - her son, Ben Skywalker.
Her deed was done. It had been her final duty to the Alliance.
Now, she was free.