Rating: K+
Summary: Anakin was supposed to be the ultimate hero. But he was born at the wrong time, and his father was forced to make drastic changes…
Disclaimer: As if I need it. Don't own Star Wars.
The night-dweller, as the natives of this miserable planet called his kind, flitted between the stone constructs of the slave homes. The higher classes could not be trusted, he knew. So he searched for a place to rest among the lower class. In his experience, it was the lower class that had the best kind of people, as long as they could handle the pressure of being, to be polite, working class.
The figure stopped suddenly at a door. "Here." His voice was a hypnotic, soft tenor that was almost irresistible. He knocked quietly, and the door opened, revealing a very nervous young woman, with brown hair and soft blue eyes.
"Hello..."
"Hello. May I come in?" Magic slipped into his voice, adding registers to create a truly hypnotic sound.
The woman at the door relaxed a little, but she was no fool. She recognized the voice of a night-dweller when she heard it. She also knew better than to be rude to one.
"Yes, come on in." She quietly opened the door to let the tall, dark figure slide past her and into the living area of the three-room house. Closing the door behind her, she kept a careful eye on him. "Just hang up your coat somewhere near the door."
He took off his hooded black cloak and hung it on a small hook near the doorway, revealing a young man with striking blue eyes and shoulder-length, curly light brown hair in loose black clothes.
"Mind if I sit down?" he asked, motioning to the small table and its three chairs.
"No, not at all," she said, a little relief creeping into her voice. You could not attack someone as well from a chair, and you would waste valuable seconds getting up. She knew it from experience. Though she was sure he could shock her into lethargy if he wanted to attack her.
"What is your name?"
"Shmi Skywalker." She slid into the other chair.
"My name is Anakin." He reached out to shake hands. She did so, her relief increasing. He seemed to be polite enough, and he seemed to be letting his guard down. Those were usually signs that someone was not going to attack.
But she stayed wary. You could never tell with night-dwellers.
"Do you need anything?"
"Yes, actually. I think I'd like something to warm me up, preferably something liquid." She tensed, but he waved away her concerns by saying, "Hot cocoa would be fine." Shmi couldn't stop herself from sighing in relief.
Anakin just smiled as Shmi hurried into the kitchen area to fix some hot cocoa for the both of them. He knew of his kind's reputation, among plenty of things—including great secrets.
After all, he had been around for ten thousand years.
"Here." Shmi came back into the dining area and handed Anakin a steaming cup of cocoa. He took it gratefully, raising it to his lips and taking a long sip. He sighed in relief afterwards. The warm, chocolatey mixture poured itself down his throat, armoring him against the cold Tatooine night. Shmi did the same, drawing pleasure from the simple feeling. It was one thing they had in common.
"Thank you."
"Hm?" Shmi looked up in surprise. In her experience, people who had authority or power never bothered to thank her or her fellow slaves.
"You took me in, even though you knew what I was. That is not something many would do." He stood up. "One good turn deserves another. I sense you're not happy with your circumstances."
Shmi chuckled, hardly believing her luck. "Who would be?"
"Indeed. Unfortunately, I can't break you out. But perhaps I can help you…transfer to a kinder master."
"How? Gardulla only sells us if we…get a child."
The night-dweller turned to her, the twinkle of an idea in his eye. "Does the child have to be yours?"
Shmi frowned. "I don't believe so."
The idea had been solidified. "Tomorrow morning, you will find a three-year-old on your doorstep. He most likely will be asleep."
Shmi knew the powers of the night-dwellers well. "That three-year-old will be you, won't it?"
Anakin smiled. "Yes. Though you mustn't speak of this. You will be able to adopt him—me—and Gardulla will have no choice but to…find you a new home, with me."
Shmi considered it for a long while, mulling it over in deep thought. Clearly, she was conflicted.
Finally she looked Anakin in the eye and said something that would change her life forever.
"I've always wanted a son."