A/N: Fair warning that this chapter is a lot of smut. If that's not your thing I promise there is actual plot here too... it's just buried under a lot of smut.
RyanSquad: I'm glad you liked the previous chapter. When I was originally planning the story Anakin didn't get the darksaber, but watching The Mandalorian made me realise it was the perfect choice of alternate weapon for him, and it kind of represents Anakin's current state as well. He is no longer officially a Jedi, so doesn't have a regular lightsaber anymore, but he still has a strong connection to the Force and is still an exceptional fighter and therefore needs something more than a blaster. The darksaber seemed to match his current transition into a more "grey", undefined area of his life – it's not a typical lightsaber, and at the moment Anakin is not a typical Force user. Also I just think it's really cool and I'm looking forward to writing it into all the action scenes ;)
CHAPTER EIGHT: LOVE AND NIGHTMARES
Night fell on Galactic City, quickly draping it in a blanket of neon. The sun may have set but the lights of the city never faded. Galactic City teemed with life all day, all night, and this evening was no exception. A trillion beings were going about their business, a trillion lives changing their course every day. Nobody's future was set in stone, especially not here, on the most vibrant, populous planet in the galaxy. Anything could happen here. Anything did.
A lone figure dressed all in black made their way across the lanes of traffic, their flashy yellow speeder dashing past the slower vehicles with ease. Anakin Skywalker landed his new vehicle on the large, empty platform of one of the most expensive penthouses in the city. Exiting swiftly using the Force he suddenly stopped, his gloved hand searching the deep pocket of his dark robe for the small and precious leather pouch that was hidden inside. Satisfied that his gift for his wife was still safe, he headed inside.
The penthouse was empty but for once Anakin embraced this silence. It meant that there was still time. He anticipated Padmé would not be home for several hours yet – even if she had not been upset at him and trying to avoid his company, the Senate knew little of appropriate working hours.
As Anakin had even less cooking experience than his wife, he smartly organised for C-3PO to pick up a few of his wife's favourite dishes from a popular – and extravagant - restaurant on Coruscant. He himself had purchased another bouquet of her favourite Nabooian dusk roses, hoping that they were not an omen for a repeat of their previous argument. At any rate they made a beautiful centrepiece in the middle of the long, formal dining table where the Skywalker's incessantly chatty protocol droid was getting everything ready for the night's meal, the light of the candles that covered nearly every surface in the room glinting off of his polished golden plating. Anakin supervised the droid carefully, making sure C-3PO got everything just so. This night was a gift for his wife. There was the dinner, the roses, the wine, the candles and one more gift, more precious than anything he had given Padmé before, but he would reveal it when the time was right.
Anakin enjoyed a long, meditative shower and changed out of his dark attire into a linen shirt and brown pants – something looser and more comfortable. He was starting to relax and, dare he say it, even feel hopeful. The constant ache that he had carried in his heart all week began to lessen at the thought of reconciling with his wife. He sent a communication to her asking her to meet him at home as soon as she could. She wrote back simply that she would try to finish her work as fast as possible, but nothing more. Her message was succinct and when Anakin reached out with the Force to gauge her mood, she was still upset. He knew this evening would probably not smooth over all of her misgivings towards his new job, but it would at least be a start.
Thankfully, Anakin did not have to wait too long for his wife's return, hearing the familiar sounds of her vehicle landing a short time after seven. He debated going to meet her but decided against it, wanting her to be fully surprised when she entered the dining room and saw how it had been transformed.
Padmé moved through the apartment quickly, pausing only to remove her heavy black cloak and pass it to C-3PO as he greeted her at the door. "Threepio, where is Anakin? He told me to meet him as soon as possible."
C-3PO stopped in the hallway to answer his mistress before heading to the main bedroom to hang up her cloak. His language processors were fluent in so many dialects but he still did not always understand the subtlety of human emotions, this time failing to register the harsh edge present in his mistress' voice.
"Mistress Padmé, you will find Master Anakin in the dining room. He has prepared something most delightful for you," the droid chirped pleasantly before he trundled off down the hallway, oblivious to the waves of tension radiating off of the young woman he left behind him.
"I hope he hasn't tried cooking something..." Padmé muttered to herself.
Pausing again a little way down the hallway, Padmé checked her appearance in an ornately-framed mirror hanging on the wall. An errant curl had escaped from the loose bun she wore today, and she smoothed it down while scrutinising her reflection closely. Her skin was paler than usual and her eyes had the beginnings of dark circles under them. Of course they did – what did she expect after a week of no sleep? A sigh of frustration escaped her. Not even cosmetics could hide her weariness - what she needed was a good night's rest. However, for that to happen, she needed to reconcile with her husband. Padmé hoped that that was his intention for the evening, because she was more than eager to put this week behind them.
Entering the dining room through the large carved double-doors that were the feature of the hallway's end, Padmé could not help but quicken her pace, curious to know what her husband had done that was so special.
And then she stopped. And she looked. And she was amazed at what she saw.
The room was cast in a soft, golden glow from the many dozens of candles. Their deep floral scent, wisteria and jasmine from a far-off exotic world, filled the room, giving it the sense of someplace more natural, more alive, than this metropolis made of steel. The ornate furniture of the room cast long shadows in this dim light, causing the room to have a closer atmosphere than it usually had. The table was neatly set with the finest china and utensils she owned, and in the centre of the table was a large bowl of fresh blooming red roses. Her favourites. Her dark eyes took in the room slowly, taking in every detail. It all reminded her of the way the bedroom on Naboo had been the night she had been married. Every surface of that room had been filled with candles and flowers, the same types as the ones here tonight. The window had been open and the long white curtains had been pulled back to allow a view of the sky. The air that night had been warm, the atmosphere still, poised on the edge of rain. Her husband had carried her to the bed so gently in his arms, kissing her all the while. He had helped her undress, unsure of himself but savouring this precious moment, as piece-by-piece her veil and her dress were removed, and he was allowed to become more and more acquainted with her body.
She knew he had been thinking of that night when he had planned this one.
"Ani..."
"Hello, Angel."
The first words they had spoken to each other all week hung in the air before them like an awkward peace offering. They took each other in as if they were seeing each other for the first time, strangers instead of lovers for two years. There was a distance between them that had yet to be crossed and they stood apart, both unmoving, both unsure of what to say or what to do to take down that final wall that had been keeping them so distanced.
So they stood there, still apart although they were so close, the wall still between them. And they looked at each other, and then they both looked away, around at all the different, beautiful things in the room that was now so much like the one from their wedding night. They both thought of that night, that ethereal dream they had both shared, where they had discovered each other and the truest form of love for the first time. It was the remembrance of that love that finally broke down that wall and moved them towards each other, into each other's arms and an urgent kiss.
The tension melted away as the kiss deepened. Their ragged edges began to mend.
They were together again, and everything would be okay.
It had to be.
Eventually the kiss ended, as all good things must. Padmé lay her head against her husband's chest gratefully. He rubbed her back and they stood there together for a long time, wordlessly healing the week-long rift between them. That dark dragon that had been curled around Anakin's heart all week, its flame flickering dangerously, slowly began to retreat. He didn't need to worry, he assured himself. She was here in his arms. She was safe. It had only been a dream. Not all dreams came true, did they? The will of the Force was so often a mystery...
After a while Anakin released his wife from his arms and took her face gently in his hands, inspecting the dark circles under her eyes with a frown and a pang of guilt. "How are you?"
"I'm tired."
"I am too, Padmé. It's been a long week."
Padmé nodded. "It feels like it's been a month."
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so truly sorry. I can't even begin-"
Padmé cut him off with a simple: "I know."
"No, Padmé, I need to say this to you. I need to apologize to you properly. You deserve it," Anakin continued resolutely. His hands spanned her upper arms, holding her in place to witness his plea, his expression serious. "I… I was wrong. I know that. I let my anger get the better of me. I shouldn't have done that. Not to you, not ever to you. You deserve better, and I need to be better. I just want to be a good man for you, a husband you can be proud of. I just… I just feel so lost..."
His confession was so open and raw and honest that Padmé felt the prickle of tears beneath her lashes. Gone was the eternal confidence, the arrogance, even, that kept thoughts and feelings like these shielded from everyone, even her. Gone was the Jedi Knight, the Hero With No Fear, the Chosen One. Here right now, in front of her, baring his soul, was just a young man, the son of a slave, an orphan, a man who had had his destiny ripped right out from under him and who had been left to fall, nobody knowing where he would land. Here was Anakin Skywalker, who was flawed but who was also perfect. Who was her husband. Who was her dearest and her greatest love.
"Anakin," Padmé murmured, soft and tender as a kiss. "You are a good man. You are kind and you are strong and you will do anything for the ones you love. I will always be proud of you for that."
"I hope you can understand why I took the job with the Chancellor," Anakin said.
"I think I have an idea..."
"It makes me… I don't know... It makes me feel a bit like myself again. Like who I was. Who I'msupposed to be. I know I can't be a Jedi anymore but I can still be doing something good with my powers," Anakin explained. His voice still carried the vulnerability of a child.
"I understand." And she did. She understood that even though her husband was kind and strong and loving that he was also ambitious, and powerful, and that he would never be content with a life that did not let him use his great abilities. "I just hope that you will be safe."
"Of course I will, Padmé. Nothing will happen to me, nobody can hurt me," Anakin responded confidently, his shoulders squared and a smile on his face. The vulnerability of a few moments ago was gone and the Hero With No Fear had returned.
"I don't just mean physically, Anakin. I just… I hope you won't ever have to do anything that will change that good heart of yours." She placed her hand on his chest, feeling the strength of his heartbeat through the thin material of his shirt, almost as if she was trying to determine whether it still beat good and true.
Anakin's met her gaze with the same intensity. "I promise you, Padmé, I will never do anything that you would not be proud of. I will only use my powers for good, like I did before. I just want to help people and keep them safe." He suddenly thought of Free Voices, the terrorist group targeting senators. His jaw hardened at the thought of them ever being able to come anywhere near his wife. "I just want to keep you safe."
Anakin's noble intentions were clear in the blaze of his blue eyes. Padmé thought he was referring to the nightmare about her he had had the other week. In a comforting gesture she wrapped her arms around Anakin's neck and he responded by encircling her waist with his own. "I love you, Anakin." The words were whispered in his ear as she tightened her embrace.
A peaceful sense of quiet filled the room as the two of them stood together in the flickering candlelight. Now was the moment Anakin had been waiting for - the perfect moment to give Padmé his final gift. Anakin let go off his wife and took the small leather pouch from the pocket of his pants, where he had been keeping it after getting changed. Padmé watched with interest as Anakin opened the pouch and produced two simple golden rings.
Wedding rings.
Anakin spoke with a voice suddenly husky with emotion. "I want everyone in the galaxy to know how much I love you, to know that you are my wife, now that we longer have to hide it."
He reached for her left hand, so small compared to his. Gently he slid the smaller of the golden bands onto the ring-finger of her left hand before bringing it to his lips. He kissed first the ring, then the back of her hand, then her palm, her wrist and then, slowly, a little way up her arm.
Anakin had been using the Force to hold the other ring in the air and now Padmé plucked it from where it hovered as if she were selecting a ripe fruit from a tree back home on Naboo. Gently, she placed it carefully on the ring-finger of his own left hand.
Then she was the one who initiated the kiss, and it was sweet at first, and then it was passionate. The two lovers instantly burned for each other. Even though they hadn't been physically separated this week there had been a wide gulf between them – they might as well have been on separate worlds. Now when Anakin reached out to feel his wife's presence in the Force he felt only calmness, only her love for him. Only her desire.
"Padmé, you're so beautiful."
"Only because I'm so in love."
His blue eyes darkened, his face had need written across it. He held her and he kissed her, again and again, deeply and urgently, until she melted from the fire of his touch.
Despite his actual physical hunger and the decadent smells of the meal ahead of them wafting in from the kitchen, Anakin was now consumed with nothing more than an absolute hunger for his wife. He used the Force to move any dining utensils out of the way before lifting her slender body up onto the table, all the while his lips never leaving her own.
Padmé groaned with desire as he moved her onto the table, her whole body thrilling at the anticipation of what was to come. Her fingers brushed against Anakin's erection, very prominent in the loose pants that he wore. The air fled from his lungs in a hiss as she began stroking it through the thin material of the pants, and then she untied the simple knot at the top of them and pulled them down, exposing the thick, hard length of him to her. She continued to stroke him, the pleasure now amplified a hundred-fold by the removal of any barrier between her hand and his skin.
"Ughh, Angel… my Angel," he groaned as she enhanced the pace of her strokes. It felt so good but he didn't want to finish like this, he wanted to finish inside of her, feeling her tightness all around him, loving the primitive feeling of having her invade every single one of his senses.
He stepped back away from her reach before he lost all control. "Stand up," he said quietly. "Turn around."
Padmé did as she was requested, and Anakin set to work unbuttoning her elaborate senatorial gown. It took him longer than he would have liked – it always did, these dresses were so damn intricate – but eventually he unfastened enough buttons for the gown to slide from her shoulders and pool in a pile of thick purple fabric at her feet. She turned around, standing before him in her silk slip that showed off the curves of her slim body so much more than that gown ever could. He slid the straps of the slip down off of her shoulders and it joined the gown on the floor. Her bra came off next, lying on top of the other discarded clothing. Anakin spent some time kissing and caressing her small breasts, her heady moans hardening his cock even further until it was almost painful not to be inside her then and there. Finally, he gently pulled her underwear down off of her hips. Padmé stepped out of the pile of clothing and sat back down on the table, waiting, as her heartbeat sent the thrill of desire coursing through every part of her body.
Anakin quickly removed his clothing himself then took a moment to admire how utterly divine Padmé looked. How could he ever need anything else than her? How could he have wasted a whole week without her conversation, without her laughter, without her touch? Time like this had been precious during when he had been fighting in the Clone Wars. And if those dreams were to… He was a fool. Such a fool. Then, as if he was a sinner kneeling before the retribution of his God, he was kneeling before her, kissing her inner thigh softly, and then gently spreading her legs further apart. Padmé was already wet, knowing what he was about to do, and in an instant Anakin was there, his head between her legs, feasting on something far more satisfying than any of the dishes he could have eaten tonight or any other night for the rest of his life.
Padmé gasped, she moaned, she cried out, her body was electrified, her hands were clenched into fists as the sensations overwhelmed her. And Anakin simply kept devouring her, over and over again, until suddenly her legs tensed around his head and she saw stars, galaxies of stars, whole universes, and those stars coursed all the way through her body so she felt them in her toes and in her fingertips.
Anakin felt her climax, tasted it on his lips, and nearly went mad with desire for her in anticipation of his own. He stood, wiping her moisture from his mouth.
Padmé sat up, still a little dazed, enjoying the aftershocks of such a strong sensation. She ran a hand through her loose curls in an attempt to tame them. The new ring on her finger caught the light.
She then stood up to be near him again, not wanting to have even a little bit of distance between them anymore, rubbing his cock again as she kissed him. He groaned, unable to wait any longer, and in an instant he had her up against the wall, her slender legs straddling his waist and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her fingers tangled in his unruly hair, his aching cock finally deep inside her.
And then he couldn't get enough of her. She must be a drug, she was so intoxicating. Each deep thrust into her felt better than the last, each moan from her pouty lips turned him on more than the one that came before it. They both loved this position and tonight it felt better than ever. Anakin took his wife hard, and she panted in time with his quick, powerful thrusts.
"You feel so good," she gasped into his ear. "This feels so good."
Anakin grunted in agreement, beyond words now, taking her harder still, her sweaty back sliding up and down the wall. He buried himself in her over and over again, the pleasure beyond description. Every thrust erased another moment of silent pain from the past week.
Padmé kissed him as he took her, moaning against his lips, her breath in his lungs, her body coiling like a spring, until suddenly, suddenly, she came, quickly and deliciously and without warning, and he kept thrusting into her as she quivered around him, quicker now, until he came too, the sound of his roar left ringing in her ears. Then, their fire spent for the time being, they simply held each other, panting, both covered in sweat and feeling the warmth of their love on their skin. They had never felt closer, never loved each other more than they had in this moment.
Afterwards, the mood in the dining room had the pleasant tranquility of an evening by the lakes of Naboo, a time that seemed less far away now than it had before. Anakin dressed only in his pants, and, to ensure the evening retained this sense of peace, went to the kitchen to deactivate C-3PO, who had been waiting to serve the meals and pleasantly unaware of the rather loud reconciliation happening in the dining room. Anakin retrieved the dinner that the protocol droid had been fussing over: steak, sauteed green vegetables, fresh bread and red wine. He brought all of the dishes into the dininig room at once using the Force and carefully arranged them on the table in front of his wife. Padmé smiled when she saw that her husband had taken care to order what was not only her favourite meal but the one they had shared on their wedding night. She had dressed now in her underwear and her husband's shirt. The thin linen skimmed the top of her thighs.
"This looks divine."
Anakin smiled as he served up two plates and then filled two of Padmé's expensive Nabooian crystal wine glasses with the earthy-smelling wine. Padmé breathed in its rich aroma before taking a long, satisfying drink.
They ate in companionable silence, finishing their dinner quickly as they were both famished. After the meal Anakin cleared the table and then returned to the dining room with another bottle of the expensive red wine.
"Thank you for tonight," said Padmé softly as she watched Anakin fill their glasses again. "It reminds me of our wedding night."
"That was the idea. Although," Anakin added with a roguish grin, "we definitely didn't have that level of confidence with each other that night..."
Padmé laughed, indulging in her husband's bawdiness. "Yes, tonight we definitely engaged in some very aggressive negotiations."
Anakin's deep laugh joined her own, and he took a long drink from his glass. He swallowed and then turned to his wife with a more serious expression. "I want you to know how serious I am about everything I said before, Padmé. I love you, and I will not fail you."
Padmé brushed the messy curls from his forehead, still wet with the sweat of their lovemaking, before she answered him. "I know, Anakin. As long as you are true to yourself you will be true to me. As long as we are open and honest with each other we can weather any storm."
The couple shared another kiss and finished the last of their wine. With the meal finished, Anakin carried Padmé to bed as he had done on their first night together, and so many nights since. Padmé felt the headiness of wine and the sleepiness of a late night. Then, when Anakin lay her down on the big bed and began to undress her, so slowly and so tenderly like he had the first time, she felt nothing but the warmth of love.
OOOOO
"Anakin, help me! Help me, please!"
Those words. That voice. And then the scream. The awful, torturous scream, cut off suddenly with a flash of purple, and with it, his reason for being. She was gone, and she would never, could never, come back.
The Dark Side surrounded him completely, and he gave in to it, embraced it, let it fill every essence of his being with sickening hatred. That dark dragon inside of him was finally sated with the blood-lust it had craved for so long but which it had been constantly denied.
But no more.
No more would Anakin Skywalker deny his inner nature, his inner strength. Never again would he deny his absolute power. He was the Chosen One. He was the one they all should fear.
He would get revenge for everything and everyone that had been taken from him, and it would be glorious. Simply glorious.
But then he woke up.
No longer did he feel the hatred, the suffering, the intoxicating lust for revenge. No longer did he feel the insatiable call of the Dark Side. He wasn't there, wherever there was, he was here, in his bed, in his home, and, thank the Force, his wife was still asleep beside him. Her presence radiated strong and clear through the Force.
Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, and then the cold sweat from his face. He felt utterly, utterly sick. Once again he had felt the Dark Side in his very soul and it disgusted him. This nightmare had been the worst one yet. And if they kept coming, just like they had with his mother, he knew the outcome would be the same. Unless he did something to stop it.
Too spent from the nightmare to remain sitting up, Anakin lay down next to Padmé again, wrapping an arm around her naked waist and drawing her closer to his own bare skin. He tried to calm his breathing by focusing on his wife's slow and steady breaths and on the comfort that the strength of their connection in the Force brought.
With each constant breath Anakin chanted inwardly the same mantra: she will be alright. She will be alright. She will be alright.
It wasn't enough, though, and he knew it, he couldn't keep trying to hide it. It hadn't been enough for his mother, and it wasn't enough now. Yes, Padmé was alright now, but for how long? And how long would he be able to ignore the allure of that great dark dragon inside if she wasn't? He couldn't simply will someone to not die, as much as he could try. He had to do something, but he didn't know what.
Unable to deal with these thoughts, feeling helpless and alone, Anakin rolled roughly onto his back, staring up at the ceiling but seeing nothing. The movement was enough to wake Padmé, and she rolled over onto her right side so she could look at her husband with sleepy eyes.
"Anakin? Are you alright?"
Anakin swallowed before answering, his throat so dry he nearly coughed. His voice was rough when he spoke. "Another dream."
Padmé placed a reassuring hand on her husband's chest. "The same as before?"
"Worse. This time I gave in..."
"Gave in to what?"
"The Dark Side." Anakin groaned, the sound a complete understatement of the turmoil he felt in his heart right now.
Padmé studied him in the dim light afforded by the gaps in the window blinds. He looked as vulnerable as he had before. She wondered then how much it cost him to keep this vulnerability hidden from everyone except her. To every other being in the galaxy Anakin Skywalker was the Hero With No Fear, but that moniker was also a prison. It was not that he had no fear, more that he was not allowed to show it. The galaxy needed its dashing poster boy for the war effort. How would the Republic armies keep getting support if anyone knew that one of their greatest generals still cried over the death of his mother?
"It will be alright," she said soothingly. She knew her words meant nothing right now, and that in all likelihood they would be proven false. But what else was she supposed to do? If he knew that she was scared, that she thought there was a chance of these nightmares becoming reality, then she knew he would lose all reason like he had with his mother.
"I don't know what to do, Padmé. If these dreams are the same as the ones that showed my mother's death, I don't know how to stop them!" Anakin replied desperately.
Padmé was silent, unsure how to answer. The only solution she could think of was one that her husband would not like. "You could talk to Obi-Wan?"
Her suggestion was met with a snort of contempt. "He didn't help me then, Padmé, and he won't help me now. He won't know what to do."
Padmé pursed her lips but said nothing more on the matter. This wasn't the right time. Later, when Anakin had calmed down, she would broach the subject of Obi-Wan's help again. However, she decided then and there that if Anakin would not relinquish his pride and seek help from an old friend, then she would have to be the one who reached out.
Besides, this wasn't the only thing worrying her about him. And although she tried to bury the feeling, she was worried for herself. Anakin's dreams about his mother had been prophetic. What if these were too?
OOOOO
A little ways across Coruscant, in the grand, ancient Jedi temple, three great Jedi's eyes opened in alarm, all at the same time.
Yoda, Ahsoka Tano and Obi-Wan Kenobi all recoiled at the hideous strength of the Dark Side that they simultaneously felt in their shared Force visions. Their bodies tensed, an involuntary reaction against the darkness, preparing themselves for a fight that seemed sure to come.
It was the same for all three of them – they had heard the same scream, they had seen again that strange flash of purple, they had known again that same foreboding sense of the Dark Side. And they had all felt the same thing, the worst they had ever felt it.
Pain.
Immense, unbelievable, immeasurable pain.
But it was not their own pain they had felt, no. It was his pain. Anakin Skywalker's pain. He had been in the worst agony he had ever experienced in his entire existence, and he had been absolutely unhinged because of it. In that dream there was no telling what he would do, no level he would not sink to rid himself of the pain that had been erasing everything good in him and replacing it with cold darkness.
All three Jedi woke from the terrible, terrible dream covered in a fine sweat and with a sick pit in their stomachs. The fears of the Jedi had been realised – the Dark Side was definitely growing stronger, right under their noses. But of course it was – Maul was still out there, Dooku was still out there. Despite seemingly constant confrontations with these Sith, the Jedi had not achieved anything. The Dark Side was still an omnipresent thorn in their side.
Yoda, ever the calm and resolute leader, kept these concerns to himself. He was undeniably shaken by this vision but knew he should seek his answers in the Force.
This was not the path that Ahsoka and Obi-Wan took, however, and within five minutes Yoda found his meditation interrupted by the loud sound of the two of them furiously knocking on his chamber door.
Of course they would be here. Had he really expected anything else?
Using the Force to unlock the door and admit his two late-night guests, Yoda rose slowly from his small bed and went to his hover-chair. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka entered the small room with a frantic air about them and then stood before the wise Master, both poised to speak at the same time.
"Visions, you have been having." It was not a question, it was a statement of fact by the old Master. "Disturbed by them, you are."
"Yes, you are right! Master Yoda, forgive our intrusions, but we have both had a most concerning vision involving Anakin and Senator Amidala," Obi-Wan hurried to explain. His normally cool and collected visage was visibly pale.
"Understand this, I do. The same vision I have had," Yoda replied. He faced the two younger Jedi with a grave expression. "Very troubling these visions are. Experienced the Dark Side of the Force, we have."
"What do you think the vision means, Master Yoda?" Ahsoka asked quietly. She was exhausted, having never had such a strong Force vision before. It had left her absolutely spent and very, very worried.
"Unsure of the meaning, I am. Hard to decipher, Force visions can be. Know this, both of you do."
"But what about Anakin? In this vision he… he fell," Obi-Wan could barely form the words. "And Padmé, she… died. Surely, Master, there must be something we can do?"
"Mmmm," Yoda began thoughtfully. "Very clouded, Skywalker's future is. Watch him closely, the Order must."
"But surely he won't turn? Not Anakin!" Ahsoka interjected, needled by Yoda's apparent belief that her former Master could ever even entertain the notion of embracing the evil that seemed to worsen with each passing day.
"A good heart, your old Master has. Clear that you care about him still, it is. However, remember the Order's teachings about attachment, you must. To let go of what you fear to lose, that is the Jedi way. Unable to do this, Skywalker is. Sense great fear in him I do. Fear of loss. Fear of obscurity, also."
"Master Yoda, Anakin would not turn his back on the Jedi's teachings. I know him! I trained him since he was a boy!" Obi-Wan said plaintively.
Yoda looked from Obi-Wan to Ahsoka with knowing eyes that had seen the events of over ten human lifespans. He had lived through times of peace, and he had lived through times of war. He had seen many strong Jedi cut down in their prime, and many more join the Force as beings old and wise like him. He had seen thousands of Padawans Knighted, and hundreds of Knights become Masters. He had also seen Jedi turn their back on the Order and, worse still, betray it. He had known of the prophecy of the Chosen One for more years than he could count, and had always been waiting, wondering, to see if it would be fulfilled. When Qui-Gon Jinn had presented a timid little boy of nearly ten years old to the Jedi Council and proclaimed that this child was the one they had been looking for, this child was the Chosen One, Yoda had been reticent to believe it. He had sensed an overwhelming fear in Anakin Skywalker that day and, despite the child growing into a man whose control of the Force was beyond comprehension, that fear had never truly left him. The Jedi Order had tried and failed to curb Anakin's desire for attachments and his desperate fear to lose them, and Yoda had always felt that Anakin's attachments would be his downfall. He had always been concerned of how far Anakin would go to avoid losing the ones he loved, and what he would do if he did lose them. Chosen One or not, such an immense amount of power produced a dangerous undercurrent in the young man, and Yoda wondered how far below the surface it really ran.
"Denied the teachings of the Jedi Skywalker already has. Take a wife, he did. Fear of losing her, he has, and into dark places, that fear may take him. Be wary of this Vision, we must."
"You're wrong!" Obi-Wan declared passionately. "Forgive me, Master Yoda, but you're wrong about Anakin. He will not forsake what is right! I know this!"
"Difficult to determine, Force visions are, Master Kenobi. To the Dark Side, Skywalker's path may not lead. However, cautious of Skywalker's power, we must all be," Yoda replied calmly.
"It was you and the Council who turned your back on him, not I," Obi-Wan said cuttingly. "If you are afraid of what he will do with his abilities, that must remain on your consciences, not mine."
"Look, we'll find out what the Vision means," Ahsoka asserted, gesturing at both older Jedi inclusively. "I know there's more to it than we think."
Yoda sighed. He knew there was nothing he could do to dissuade Obi-Wan and Ahsoka from seeking out Anakin and nothing he could say to make them understand the former Jedi's potential danger. They would go there seeking a friend, and he had a feeling they would be disappointed.
"Hope you are right, I do. But be mindful of your feelings, you must. Past loyalties, changed, they may have," he replied.
"Master Yoda, I know things ended poorly between Anakin and myself, but I cannot stand by and do nothing. Especially if anyone's life is in danger. It is not the Jedi way," Obi-Wan told Yoda. There was an energy in his posture that had not been there a few moments before.
Yoda nodded. "Support your decision, I do. Speak with the Skywalkers you will. But report back to the Council you must," he instructed gruffly.
"Thank you, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan said simply, bowing before exiting the room.
Ahsoka hesitated in the open doorway. "There's more to this than you think, y'know," she told Yoda.
The ancient Master chose to ignore the note of provocation in the young Togruta's voice. He hoped that she was right.
Returning to his meditations, Yoda searched through the waves of the Force as they travelled past him, unaware of any particular meaning in them. He let go of the hint of frustration he had felt during his conversation with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. The feeling blew away from him like a leaf on the wind. He searched the Force, embraced it, let it completely consume him. He focused on the Force vision from earlier, tried to play it back in his mind second-by-second. He asked the Force for an answer to what the vision meant, and then he waited. He breathed slowly, he maintained his focus, knowing that the Force would give him an answer when it was ready. He was peace, he was serenity, and then-
"STOP YOUR FUTILE SEARCH FOR ANSWERS. WHAT IS TO COME IS TO COME. IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN THIS WAY. IT WILL ALWAYS BE THIS WAY. THERE IS NO WAY TO CHANGE FATE."
The disembodied voice struck Yoda as if he had been assaulted by a heavy weapon. He had no knowledge of who was speaking to him, only that they were neither Jedi nor Sith. They were a dark Force user, however, and the waves of hatred radiating from their Force signature filled Yoda with physical pain.
Yoda tried to respond, wanting to ask who this voice belonged to and what their message meant, but he found he could not speak. He realised he could not even move. He tried desperately to shout out to the voice, struggling against his sudden and strange constriction, but before he could, the voice shouted at him again, and Yoda sunk into a black nothingness.
"SKYWALKER WILL FULFIL HIS DESTINY. IT IS THE WILL OF THE FORCE, AND I WILL MAKE SURE OF IT. HIS FATE IS SEALED."