A/N: Welcome to my first Star Wars fanfiction! I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.
WARNING: Birthing! in the very last scene. If that grosses you out then you should skip it. It is not necessarily important to read it to understand the story, I think.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the idea of the Star Wars universe nor do I make any profit by publishing this story.
"You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star." Friedrich Nietzsche
Prologue (Shmi's POV)
Her new owner wasn't as bad as she had feared but as a slave she had learned early on to expect the worst. As soon as someone was in a position of power it immediately started to corrupt them. Of course there were exceptions like Pi-Lippa, her previous owner. She treated Shmi Skywalker like a fellow human-being and not like the sand that just got everywhere here on Tatooine.
Pi-Lippa's son was not as kind as his mother who had promised her freedom but died before she was able to fulfill Shmi's deepest desire. She was to clean up his and his wife's household, cook the meals, and help out with the small food shop that her master owned. Whenever she was at the shop she was mostly stacking the goods in the back of the shop, organizing the incoming ware and so on. It was a lot of work. While not overly strenuous, it was time-consuming and made her fall like a dead heap on top of her mattress at the end of each day.
But this didn't explain why she had been feeling especially tired for the last two weeks. Often times getting off the floor mattress was the hardest thing to do in the morning and the exhaustion wouldn't let up throughout the day.
Her master hadn't noticed yet as she had been trying to put on a façade for him whenever he was close by. As long as she got the work done she could live from day to day. This must be a phase after all – nothing serious. The only thing that worried her were the beatings she would surely receive for slacking off.
With a sigh she continued stacking desert sages on top of each other in the back of the shop. Soon it was time for her master to do an inventory control again to make sure that she hadn't stolen anything of the food. Slaves were tightly rationed with water, food and other supplies. Pi-Lippa had never cared about controlling her food rations but her son made lists that said how much rations she was allowed to receive a week – it always felt as if it was never quite enough.
Maybe that was the reason for her tiredness: As a none-native she had always had problems with the heat and the little water she was allowed to drink. Every single little drop became precious in her eyes and she tried to behave as best as she could so that she couldn't get punished with a lessened water ration. Hopefully, everything would go well with the inventory control, which was all she could hope for.
When she first noticed that she had missed her cycle Shmi didn't worry too much. After all, stress and the relentless tiredness could do that to any woman. She hadn't been with a man for many years so there was nothing to be anxious about – other things had her much more worried.
Like the open welts on her back that she had received this afternoon after organizing the foods in the wrong order, again. The inventory control had gone well, however, there was always something wrong with whatever she did. She would never be able to please him completely and her master thought, if the lessons didn't stick verbally, well, they might just stick in a more physical way. After all slaves were told to be dump – they would always learn best with something physical to prove it.
Shmi just wished that this constant tiredness would go away soon. It had caused her to be careless and unconcentrated which had brought her into the latest no matter, she would clean her wounds with the little drinking water she had left for the rest of the week. She was a slave after all and slaves didn't receive bacta. Slaves were not worth the money spent on them, she thought bitterly.
Three months later the tiredness had receded. But something else was preoccupying her mind now. As she washed her body with a damp cloth during the monthly cleanings, her hand traced over her lower stomach just right above her pelvic area. She hadn't gotten anything more to eat – just enough to keep her ribs from showing. But right there was a small rounding and a slightly harder than normal fat bump. It couldn't be right; the Tatooine suns must be given her hallucinations. There was just no way this could be possible.
"Shmi! Hurry up! The floors don't get clean by themselves!" shouted her mistress. She was far less impatient than her husband but still liked to backhand her subordinates. Shmi hurriedly put on her worn old and loose dress.
The small bump was quickly forgotten in the haze of the beating suns and the stinging smell of cleaning solutions.
The other slave living next-door with her master said what Shmi had been trying to ignore for weeks now. On a rather unremarkable day the question had come out of the blue.
"Shmi, I worry about you and I don't want to see you hurt. That is the only reason I'm asking you this."
Concern shone through her eyes as she looked Shmi up and down and eventually let them rest on Shmi's abdominal area were a small belly was produding. As a slave she knew from experience that food was never too plenty to restock the fat reserves. She hesitated a little bit until she dropped the bomb and asked: "Shmi, are you pregnant?"
That question was like a slap to the face. She had been brushing this off, the steadily growing bump that was now more like a well-rounded belly. Her hands immediately traveled towards her stomach as if to make sure that this was real. That this was not an imagination. Haja, if other people were able to see this…
"Don't worry, Shmi. I'll keep your secret! We slaves must stick together! But who… I mean, I have never seen you with anyone..."
Who was the father?
That was a question Shmi couldn't answer. At first she had thought it was a tumor, or that her belly was just bloated. But she hadn't had any other symptoms other than the tiredness and even that was not a typical symptom. And then she had been reminded of her missing cycles that had always been regular throughout her life.
"There was no father", Shmi answered with hands clenched over her belly. She felt so alone, so desperate during that moment. What was her master going to do with her when he realized her condition? She would receive the beating of her life. Oh, Haja! She couldn't let that happen, what if she miscarried because of that?
Her friend looked at her in confusion but then her eyes suddenly became wide and infinitely sad shortly afterwards. Shmi could see pity and compassion glittering in them and she wondered why.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you. Don't feel guilty! It was not your fault!"
What was she talking about? Oh. She thought that Shmi had been raped. How else could her friend rationalize her response? Shmi decided to leave her in that belief since she wouldn't believe the truth anyways. The truth that her child had been conceived without a father. Without seed. Without love. But that wasn't quite true. She would love this child, even if it wasn't created in the natural way. In fact, she thought that she already loved the child that was steadily growing inside of her.
And suddenly she remembered an evening a few months ago. She had been gazing up to the stars because had been so exhausted after another hard day. She had simply lain down on the way from the shop to the small cell with the worn mattress in it. The sand was a soft ground for her hurting back, that was throbbing after lifting and bending it all day, and it welcomed her like a mother would welcome her child. It was pleasantly cool since the twin-suns had already set a few hours ago.
The stars had been so beautiful that night and she simply had rejoiced in their beauty. She had lived in that moment - in that moment of awe as the universe looked down at her. Shmi had felt so small but at the same time her heart had opened up to all that existed. She had closed her eyes only to open them in shock and utter panic when she had felt something cool and leathery sliding up her right leg and onto her stomach.
Her eyes had slowly traveled towards her middle section in fear where she had caught sight of the unmoving eyes of a serpent. Its scales had gleamed in the darkness and its tongue had shot out to taste the air. Both animal and human had stared at each other as if they had been removed from time and space. It had seemed to last forever but the moment had been over before any rational thoughts could have been formed when the snake had slid off her stomach and disappeared into the darkness.
Shmi had almost forgotten about his encounter until her friend started talking about the father. Could it be possible that her child had been conceived that night? On that magical, out-of-the-ordinary night?
She dropped her hands from her slightly rounded belly and smiled at her friend.
"Don't worry, everything will be alright."
She didn't know from where she had gotten such a conviction but she was certain of it. Everything would be just fine.
She turned and brought the water cans with her that she had been ordered to get for her mistress.
As it turned out, everything would not be 'just fine'.
When her master found out that she was five months pregnant because she simply could not hide her showing belly anymore she was sold to a slave trader. After all, a pregnant woman was useless and a baby would just be a distraction, extra expense and extra work. Shmi was only happy that he hadn't decided to beat her.
After she realized that she really was carrying a child beneath her heart she was elated, scared, and awed all at the same time. There was no use questioning how it had happened so she decided to drop the question of the "How" and to live in the moment. Day by day as each sunrise her stomach grew bigger.
Being for sale was another issue: She couldn't be sold, the slave trader soon realized. Nobody wanted a slave that was obviously in no condition to work hard and as a result he gave her less food so that she wouldn't be much of a burden to his money sack anymore. Shmi worried about the baby and she prayed to whatever force there was out there that it would be born healthily.
One day the slave trader and his helpers huddled all the slaves into a tiny ship that would carry them to Mos Espa, the biggest city of Tatooine. Business hadn't been good lately and that destination was promising.
During meal time Shmi was gnawing on the small piece of bread that she was given. All too soon she was finished and looked hungrily to the other slaves who still had a little bit more to eat.
"Here, you can have half of mine. You need it more than I do," an old rough voice said.
Startled, Shmi looked up into the kind eyes of an elderly woman. Her hair was snow white decorated with beads and small braids, her skin darkened and wrinkled from the twin-suns. Her old coarse hands held another piece of bread that she was offering Shmi.
"Thank you," Shmi whispered gratefully and took it to her mouth and began to bite and chew the gift carefully.
"Do not worry, young one. I've born children of my own and I know what it's like to be in that constant hunger," the elderly woman smiled kindly at her.
"It is so rare to find true kindness in this harsh life," Shmi stated gratefully with one hand on top of her rounded belly. It had cicked a little bit as if the baby wanted to thank the woman as well.
And thus a long-lasting friendship was established.
As the end of her pregnancy arrived Shmi felt – instead of nervousness – an increasing amount of calm. She knew that the baby must be developing properly but she wasn't be able to explain why she knew that. Shmi began to simply lie on the ground during the nights, gazing at the stars, rubbing her dropping belly in deep trance. The stars enchanted her, whispered to her in languages that she couldn't understand.
Her dreams were always of a rushing but comforting wind. It was nothing like the harsh sandstorms of Tatooine that often ravished the lands. This wind calmed her, made her feel truly warm and loved – a feeling that she hadn't experienced throughout her whole existence as a slave.
The serpent visited her in her dreams as well. It would always stare at her with its cold unmoving eyes. However, Shmi was never scared of it. The opposite was true in fact: She felt comforted by its knowing gaze.
She asked Jira if it was normal to feel so calm shortly before the birth of her first child. The old woman only smiled and said that every birth is different and unique to mother and child. So she let herself be carried by calming waves of warm winds that were comforting her in her dreams and by the presence of the snake.
Thinking back, Shmi thought that Jira had knew that she was in labor before she had knew it. The whole day she had been shifting and sighing, letting out small moans of discomfort when she felt pressure on her large abdomen. It was night time again when the contractions started in earnest.
At first, the pain was excruciating. Jira tried to calm her down but she could only hear the blood rushing in her head whenever another contraction hit her. This didn't feel right. This was not how it was supposed to be: Her body was shaking in exertion and pain. Sweat was dripping down her forehead while she tried to control her breathing as Jira told her to. It felt like hours until there weren't any breaks in between the rushes anymore. Her muscles had completely clamped up to expel the baby within her body. She was barely lucid enough to register that something was still wrong.
And with a load groaning exhale she looked up to the stars – and was captivated. Suddenly it all was so easy. Finally she understood their language.
Give up control, they whispered. Your body knows what to do. And she did give up. She changed positions, let the pain ebb through her, used it as a conduit to greater power. Suddenly she knew.
The pain fell off and the only thing mattering in the world was the baby and herself. She could hear nothing but the rushing wind of her dreams and feel nothing else but the pressure and love. She opened herself up and haja! How the universe embraced her! With renewed strength she pushed. And it was perfect.
Jira caught her baby as it was pushed out so carefully but without hesitation – not too fast and not too slow. Simply perfect.
And Shmi cried and laughed at the same time as she held her beautiful baby son for the first time.
Jira murmured to herself: "It was perfect. Haja, it was beautiful!"
But Shmi only had eyes for the miracle that she held in her arms and she thanked the stars and all that was holy that he was born, save and unharmed. A gift given by the stars.
And a name slipped out of her mouth before she could think of it.
"My Anakin. My beautiful Ani."
A/N: I have always thought that Shmi's unexpected pregnancy must have been a real shock for her and for her to be able to love Anakin like she did is truly amazing. I've always admired that and so I tried to work this into the story. I have four more chapters written out but they all need to be edited while I simultaneously write more chapters. Hopefully I will be able to stick with this story. Wish me luck :-)