Hope everyone had a nice weekend!
Obi-Wan ran, his best friend's anguished, rage-filled screams still reaching him. Palpatine's shuttle flew overhead, straight for the landing pad where Obi-Wan had left -
"Padmé." It came out an anguished gasp. She was gone, the two droids flat on the ground several meters away. Palpatine's shuttle had already taken off again, rising through the atmosphere, and his plan became appallingly apparent. Uninterested in his now-helpless apprentice, he would take Padmé's child and raise. The Jedi knew well that indoctrination from infancy was the most assured way of securing an apprentice.
An anguished moan from behind broke through Obi-Wan's equally anguished inner turmoil. It was too late for Padmé and her child, but there was still a chance he could save Anakin. Turning back, Obi-Wan retraced his steps.
Palpatine cackled in delight. Twins - Padmé Amidala Skywalker had born twins, a boy and girl. He was thrilled - there were only two Sith, so he would train both siblings and play them off of one another. When things finally came to a head, he would be guaranteed the strongest to become his apprentice. The Sith Master cackled again. Yes, it was a good day.
...twenty years later...
Two grizzled men in their middle age strode into the Emperor's throne room. Each was dressed in a light beige tunic with brown robes over, and each carried a lightsaber on his belt. The shorter of the two had grey hairs liberally streaking his ginger, and while the younger retained his brunette locks with little signs of age, he sported a full set of four prosthetic limbs - the latest and best credits could buy. The ginger spoke first. "Your reign of terror is over, Sidious." In an aside to the younger man, he dropped his voice. "We take him together, this time."
The brunette waved one mechanical hand airily. "I was about to say the same thing myself."
Palpatine, perched on his throne, laughed gloatingly. "Oh, no, I don't think so." From either side of him, two young persons, armed with lightsabers, emerged. "Meet my apprentices, Darth Shadow-" the blonde male stepped forward, farther into the dim, harsh light, "-and Darth Nightfury." The slightly shorter, brunette female stepped forward. The two were painfully similar, painfully different, and wore identical expressions of consummate hatred, right down to their identical yellow eyes. Igniting their sabers, the twins stepped forward, and with identical twists of grief, the Jedi engaged.
Leia. Luke. Their true names echoed in the Force, tormenting the bereaved father. Padmé was dead, there was no doubt, but had left behind her legacy - hopelessly corrupted by pure evil. He hated - yes, hated - to have to kill his own children, but they clearly had no such qualms about ending him. So he gave the four-way duel everything he had, swinging at Leia - who ducked -
"Master!" he cried, appalled, stricken. "Master - I'm sorry - " Quite unintentionally, he had halved the amount of warriors on the Light side. But there was no time for grief, as Obi-Wan's body vanished into the air the twins redoubled their attack, sensing victory. Anakin fought desperately, pain and guilt and despair eating his strength. He could not bring himself to cut down his own children, he could not afford to lose and let the Sith rage unchecked. There was only one option.
He parried a red blade, whirled away, and clicked on a thermal detonator, set to go off in ten seconds. "I'm sorry," he whispered, staring at the twins for the last time.
As I told my sister, I was off to "write some wrongs." I originally intended to have at least Luke turn light, and did not intend to kill Obi-Wan (blame my sister for that one, she suggested Anakin accidentally kill him and pull out the classic "I'm sorry, Master" line.) I realized after I killed him, I had no idea how I could successfully turn the twins to the Light side, and found it more convenient to just kill them all off. I'll do something a little happier next time, I promise.