III. Anakin

Everybody in Naboo seemed to retire early, Anakin thought, wondering. The long Nubian twilight had not yet darkened into night, but this wing of the palace seemed quiet and empty. Not a soul in hearing range, at least as much as Anakin could determine. But, as he passed a high window looking out towards the main street of Theed, he could still see people bustling about. Must be this place then, he concluded.

It was strange, to be suddenly in a place so deserted. A shiver ran down his spine — not fear, Anakin Skywalker was never afraid. But… apprehension? Weird, how suddenly the temperature would drop after nightfall, he thought.

The Palace was magical at night. The cold bluish light from the tall windows made shadows dance on the faces of the statues. It seemed their eyes moved to look after the ten-year old boy as he passed, and enigmatic smiles played on their stone lips. The enchanted light touched the figures of the ancient mosaic paintings on the wall, bringing them to life. A hand moved here, a cloth rustled…

Anakin smiled. In his conscious mind he knew that fairy tales were not real, but why shouldn't he just pretend and play?

There was one room he discovered, a small room with no furniture but for the largest mirror Anakin had ever seen. He had no idea what room it was or why it was empty — not even a chair in there — but he immediately took a liking to it. It felt like the sum of mysteries of the palace, the place where the nightly shadows crept up to worship their lost bodies. The mirror was of real-glass, faded with age, not as clear as it once had been. This seemed to give the mirror-world a life of its own. Anakin pretended another boy lived in the mirror, someone he could play with, who wouldn't look at him as a Force-weirdo or a former slave. He traipsed around and, passing the doorway so that he could see his reflection, he waved to himself. The other boy in the mirror seemed to be cold. "You come from a warm planet," he explained to him wisely, more to soothe his own longing. "Space is cold."

Space. He would love to pilot, but Obi-Wan had said he was still too young to take classes. Hah, as if he needed them, he already knew how to pilot! Whoever had made the rule that one couldn't sit at the starship controls at the ripe old age of ten? This was so unfair. It was not as if he didn't have the eyes, hands and knowledge, just some years were missing! Just a comfortable excuse for adults to keep children from having fun.

He sat down on the floor, leaning against the doorframe, and dug out a small toy fighter from his pocket. Using the Force, he flew it around in the room, imagining himself blasting into the skies in a sleek fighter. Blue, it would have to be blue—his very own fighter, the fastest in all Galaxy. "Bzzzzz... Wheeeeoooooow! Shields up! Enemy fighters coming in at oh point three! Vrrrrrrrooooooo... Whump! Wheeeooow... Bang! Gotcha! Yes! Oh no, I'm hit! Shields down 30 per cent! Stabilizer's hit! What? I have an idea, reroute power to the back deflector shields! Bzzzzzaaaaah... Bang!" Unfortunately his control was not yet so good, so the little fighter tended to veer off and pop down on the floor, giving the imaginary enemies a field day as they "shot down" the famous Anakin Skywalker now and again.

He wasn't sure what it was that brought him out of his game suddenly. As the echo of his clear voice faded in the room, it seemed as if a shadow descended upon him. An eerie feeling of being watched tickled at the back of his mind. He probed the surroundings as Obi-Wan had taught him to, but there was nobody in the vicinity. He opened his eyes and gasped. Instead of his "playmate", his own reflection sitting by the door, there was a huge figure was staring at him from the mirror, all flowing robes and leather of the blackest of black.

Anakin blinked. When he reopened his eyes, the figure was gone.

He sat there for a long time, wondering whether he had actually seen something or had it been just imagination. But there had been some sort of brief connection, like things sliding into place with a click, like getting past the passwords and entering into a vast database, with worlds upon worlds of something... alien, yet familiar. Should he go tell his master, or perhaps even ask Padmé about this mysterious mirror? But what would he say to them? That he thought he had seen something in a mirror? Obi-Wan would just say he had been daydreaming. And Padmé — the Queen had no time for little boys, it seemed.

There was no denying the event had somewhat unnerved him. It was not fear — no, Anakin Skywalker was not afraid of anything — but the feeling he'd had, of, of... familiarity? Like something cold, long forgotten and rarely seen, that still undeniably belonged to his life. Like... perhaps like father coming home from a long trip. Or at least that's how he had always imagined it, and he'd often wondered about how it would feel to have a father. A huge, powerful figure appearing at the doorway, and mother looking up from the cooking unit, an expression of joy and surprise on her face. "Anakin, set another place at the table for your father," she would say. And then, at dinner, Anakin would sit between his mother and father, and they would exchange wordless glances, and Anakin would peer up at the stranger who was his father, back from months-or-years-long expedition to the unknown stars, and he would be flustered, half remembering and half shy, but mighty proud of his father. Yes.

But of course, it never was. He shook his head and laughed a little, and instantly the gloomy mood dissolved. Well, whatever it was, it was just a mirror. It couldn't hurt him. And he resolved to look into the matter more closely. But, realizing it was late, he decided to put this off till the next day and made his way back to their rooms.

Obi-Wan was up, reading something. He looked up from the datapad pointedly. "I thought I told you not to stay long, Padawan."

"I'm sorry, Master. I got carried away."

Obi-Wan smiled. "What were you up to?"

Anakin hesitated. He never lied to anyone, but ... this was just plain crazy. He wasn't a baby to retell daydreams to his master. Or should he? What if it wasn't a daydream?

"Huh... nothing really, just... exploring," he mumbled.

"Very well. Bed now," Obi-Wan said absently, returning to his reading. Had he been more attentive, he would not have missed a mixture of relief and indecision on his Padawan's face.

TBC