If I can ease one life the aching

Ahsoka's story


When Anakin Organa-Solo had been born, Ahsoka had held him right after his father had. He had the tiniest red face, a good set of lungs too, though after his initial cry he seemed content to keep his own counsel. A quiet, contemplative little thing already. She loved him, instantly. Ahsoka was named the Godmother, a tradition not quite kept up, but she appreciated the gesture.

When his small fingers had wrapped around one of hers, she had smiled, and swore to protect this child for the rest of her life. She already counted on him giving her a fair amount of strife, it ran in the family after all, and she wouldn't mind.

In her mind's eye, he was already at her side, a blue blade clasped within his hand, curls of brown hair, and shining ice blue eyes. It seemed strange, that those eyes looked up into hers with such admiration and care.

For so long, someone else had looked down to her with those eyes, and her at him.

When his life was threatened and Leia asked her to protect her child—she agreed, of course, she would. Though, she wondered if this was the right choice, separating the child from his parents—Ahsoka bit her lip. No, this Anakin would know he was loved. The same mistakes would not be made iwontleaveyounotthistime

So, she found herself raising a child, a child who was far more serious and thoughtful than his Grandfather. If not still that compassionate, that protective, and she could see the man she had known at times.

But, it frightened Anakin. The dreams he had….he would reach out to her in the Force, and she would see flashes of what he saw, a dark masked figure, the sound of mechanical breathing, her own cooling corpse, the stench of cooked flesh…

He was usually found sleeping in her bed in the morning, and she never minded. It disturbed her, though, how vividly he saw these images.

Using the force was like breathing to him. She hadn't wanted to lie, he might sense she was anyways. So, she told him about his grandfather and what had happened on Malachor. She told him of the Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker too, who had cared deeply about his friends and protected them until the end.

She let Luke tell the story of the Battle of Endor, the way Anakin Skywalker had died in the Light, saving his son.

Ahsoka thought of communing with his spirit herself, letting them talk, but…

she remembered the panic in his voice, "I saw you die! I killed you!" he was whimpering into her headtails, gripping her tightly.

"It was him..I was him. I will become Dark. I will Fall." He had seemed so certain, so devastated. Perhaps, they truly had burdened him with such a name.

She thought to when Chewbacca had thrown himself in front of a blaster meant for Anakin, defending the boy and nearly dying himself. Han had blamed Anakin for it. For the subsequent deaths, she had tried to tell him none of it was his fault. Anakin had shook free of her embrace and with the conviction and tears in his eyes, she knew she'd never be able to convince him. Only Han could, but by the time father and son had spoken again, the damage was already done.

He blamed himself for many more deaths and injuries, as if he singlehandedly had caused such destruction and as if only he, could prevent every malady.

She was seeing it all again, a descent that she wondered if she had helped along in the end.

It mattered not what she or Ikrit said anymore. The old Jedi Master had sighed, she knew he loved the boy just as much as she did, and wanted to see him grown and prosper. They both wanted happiness for him.

Ikrit died. Anakin hated himself. Self loathing echoing across their force bond with a desperate sadness. It was all pressing down on him. He wanted to be the best Jedi, wanted to show that he was worth the title of Jedi Knight. That he would not become his grandfather. That he could save everyone, that he would not let anyone get hurt again.

Tahiri had come to Ahsoka, afraid for Anakin. They had drifted apart for a while, it seemed he had trouble with keeping close friends. Some were afraid, some just didn't know how to approach him.

The night before they made the final assault, he had come to Ahsoka. He looked weary, beaten, far from the joyful child she had tickled and read to, and kissed goodnight all those years. At 17, he seemed far older and the deep circles under his eyes spoke of the insomnia which had only gotten worse through the years.

He confessed to her that he had been having nightmares, the same vision, over and over.

He had walked up the steps of the old Jedi Temple, gone into a room where frightened Jedi younglings had peeked up, and one, with trusting blue eyes had stepped up to him.

"Master Skywalker, there are too many of them, what are we going to do?"

His blade ignited. He killed them all. They were all quiet, unable to believe or comprehend. The youngling with eyes as near blue as his own, sat up, midsection split open, "You have to pay the price." He had said, mournfully. "I'm sorry."

The floor had become a river of blood, warm, staining, it was choking him, dragging him under.

"It's almost over." The voice was wistful, soft and sorrowful. A hand had grasped his own, a prosthetic, but lacking the synth-skin of his Uncle Luke's. The vision would always fade with a scent of blood.

She was quiet with his admission. She had ordered him to stay behind. He had disobeyed. He had saved them all.

Ahsoka held Anakin in her arms. "I made the choice." He had gasped to her. "It's over…" Tahiri was yelling, others were gathering. He was weak, life dimming slowly, it was as if a star was going out, warmth fading.

She rocked him like he was once again that youngling placed in her arms for the first time. She sang softly to him, an old nursery song, one that she had sung many times before.

"What is the spell, when her fledglings are cheeping,

That lures the bird home to her nest?

Or wakes the tired mother, whose infant is weeping,

to cuddle and croon it to rest?

Whence is the voice that, when anger is burning,

Bids the whirl of the tempest to cease?

That stirs the vexed soul with an aching—a yearning

For the brotherly hand-grip of peace?

Whence the music that fills all our being –that thrills

Around us, beneath and above?

Tis a secret: But the name of the secret is-"

Ahsoka paused. She was singing to a corpse, nothing more.

"For I think it is Love,

For I feel it is Love,

For I'm sure it is nothing but Love !"


"Ahsoka's Song" comes from: A Song of Love, Sylvie and Bruno Concluded.