To the slaves of Tatooine, the two suns, Drago and Tyla, danced across the sky in an endless cycle of betrayal, love, and rebirth. It was at midday, when Drago betrayed his lover Tyla and consumed her, that Shmi's life changed from its repetitive drudgery. And like Tyla, she too felt herself eclipsed and blotted out of the sky. In the shadow of her master's house, where no light could strike, Shmi plummeted to the ground; her strings cut. None dared to look, silently passing Shmi by as she cried in pain and anguish.
Later, she would say there was no father. A father was for freemen, while a mother was a possession to be ripped away. Shmi refused to relinquish her son. On the day he greeted the world, her precious little Anakin, she made her first choice. She would protect him and shower him with love so he would want for nothing in the desert that made their home.
It was a pointless promise, broken before it could even be uttered, because Shmi was a slave.
Instead, she gave him a wish for a brighter future. He would be free and fly the stars. Tyla and Drago would not dominate his destiny. Anakin would walk the skies: Skywalker.
Years passed and Shmi strove for her son. She could not say whether it was selflessness that made her relinquish her meal to her son so he could become strong, or selfishness because she could not bear to be alone again and invisible. Anakin was always by her side, even when he wandered.
So to never call attention to herself, Shmi worked diligently. Every job was finished according to orders with no fault to be found. But perfection could not last indefinitely and when Shmi, her body ransacked by cough, let a vase slip through her hands, she finally incurred her master's displeasure. Anakin's eyes clung to her and with a child's innocence, he stepped between the whip and her back.
Her heart shattered.
She scrubbed the tiles until her hands were bloody. She wrapped them in cloths and smiled at her son, not letting him ever see the pain on her face. She cried in the night long after he slept. But he didn't step between the whip and her back again.
It was when Anakin finally stood waist tall that Shmi was found to be too old and unsightly and too keen for a slave in the employ of a hutt. She and her son were sold to a shopkeeper who put her nimble fingers to work. Later, he pressed a datapad into her hands and she learned to balance the numbers beyond reproach. Watto was a lazy being and Shmi thanked the suns for their gift. They weren't free, but life had a taste of freedom to its edge.
And once she tasted it, there was only one way forward. Her son collected parts as he imagined fantastical ways to free themselves. She smiled patiently, but sat at his side regardless and watched him work as she combed sand out of her hair.
Watto was not just lazy but greedy as well. He caught sight of her son's little toy and how he fixed it when it began to creak with the ease of a world weary mechanic. It was only once, but his eyes lit with greed and he told Anakin to do it again... and again... and again.
Punishment hanging over her son, Shmi's heart cracked. She could not protect her son and their illusion of freedom was just a mirage on the desert sands. Her search for freedom, which had dwindled with looser chains, rekindled. In the accounts that her master kept, she began to skim a small and unnoticeable amount. Watto was a lazy man; slowly but surely, her own account grew.
Somehow, Anakin found himself on the racetrack flying a deathtrap. He glowed like the sun as he stepped off the track and hugged her tightly.
"Never again, Anakin," she whispered.
"I promise, Mum," he said but she knew that his promise, like hers, was already broken. Watto had that look in his eyes and her son... her precious sun which her world revolved about returned to the field of death...
again...
and again...
Shmi drew herself up and began to skim a little more. Her son would not be lost in an inferno. He would walk the sky. She picked up a knife and began to carve the small chunks of japor wood. In the day, her feet skimmed the sand for the hard wood and in the night, she would whittle away. At dawn, for a favor, credit, or morsel, she traded.
It was meager, but her savings continued to accrue.
There was something strange about her son. Perhaps because he was conceived at the noon of betrayal. His eyes could see the lies spun by clever tongues. He could hear the warning strikes of drums battling in the heart. He could feel the future whispered by the gods. The legends would say Anakin was blessed, yet Shmi's heart would curdle when she heard the tales, for all ended in woe.
Her son would be free. A promise for the future. A dream to enact. She would not let him trade his bonds for the ones of destiny. Perhaps it was selfish for her to deny her son his future of grandeur... A child of destiny would be immortalized on the tongues of others and she would deny him. But he was her sun and her world revolved about him. His story would not be the one of Tyla and Drago.
He would not be betrayed or swayed. She would be his ever firm shield.
Then came the day when destiny called. Jedi, the man claimed to be. Her son gazed upon them in wonder with eager eyes. Dreams had told him the Jedi would free the slaves on Tatooine.
Shmi smiled with the ease of years in hiding. The Jedi, blinded by the glimpse of a child of destiny, did not see the poison in her eyes. Her son was happy, so she stilled her hand and served fruit to him and his companions. It dipped into her savings... but angering destiny was not to be taken lightly. For now, she would play the kind mother who saw none of the evils.
The Jedi took her claim that Anakin had no father at face value and her opinion of the bringer of destiny sank further.
Anakin would race in the podracer he had built and Shmi's smile felt brittle on her face. Her son's heart was too kind and burned with such passion that it threatened to consume all in the way. The bringer of destiny was already besotted by the flame and Shmi watched him warily.
At night, under the frozen embers in the sky, Shmi finally dared to ask, "Will you free him?"
The Jedi looked at her gravely and tucked his hands inside the folds of his robes. "I do not wish to bring your hopes up. But if Anakin wins... he will be free."
"And myself?" Shmi asked, barely able to keep the anger out of her voice. They were stealing her son away under the guise of giving him freedom.
He stared down at the ground and the slow shifting sands. "I could only bargain for the release of your son. I am sorry."
"Gambled, you mean," she said, but there was no anger in her voice. She hadn't expected him to free her, and as such, it came as no surprise. If only she could be sure that her son would be safe. "You wish Anakin to become a Jedi. What is it like?"
He raised his hand and she watched with awe as his com spun in the air and then dropped into his palm. "Anakin will learn the ways of the Force. When he is older, he will serve as a Padawaan to an older knight who will act as his guide and teacher. The Jedi are a respected institution around the galaxy and are often called upon to resolve conflicts."
"Conflicts that leave you stranded on Tatooine."
He shrugged. "Everything is as the Force wills it to be."
Her eyes narrowed at him and he tucked his hands away again.
"Your son will be fine. He has a grand future ahead of him. He will never have to wonder when his next meal will be or worry about fraying clothes. The Jedi take care of their own." The Jedi paused. "Your son is truly special. I imagine the Force has much in store for him."
The words were unsaid, but Shmi heard them anyway. Her son would serve the Jedi, a new Master to replace his old. He would be told it was freedom while bound by invisible chains of loyalty. He would be a hero whose name would be spoken by many tongues. The Force was just another name for destiny and it would never let her son go.
Anakin, her bright sun, would burn hot and fast, outshining all. But then, like all heroes, he would splutter and fall from the stars to his demise. Destiny was a cruel Master and Shmi had promised her son he would be free. The Jedi would not grant her freedom, although she could not delude herself into believing he was incapable of it. Watto would sooner part with her than her son. Whatever trick he had played could easily have granted her freedom.
Anakin won his first race and his freedom, proving that destiny did indeed have a plan for her young child. After basking in the glory of the moment, he turned to her and his eyes widened at the realization she would be left behind. The Jedi would free all the slaves, he had believed. But they were leaving his mother behind. Shmi forced a warm smile and told him not to look back.
The hero who looked back found themselves in death's grasp.
He didn't look back.
Shmi stood under the scorching suns feeling adrift as her precious sun which her world revolved about disappeared. Destiny had come calling and she had been unable to do anything. Not again. Her son would need her and here on this dusty, barren rock she was powerless. She went back inside and opened the little coffer to count her credits. Without her son, she almost had enough to break her chains. She just needed another hand to do the deed.
Two years later, burdened with enough coin for freedom and passage, she met a man. His skin was worn like hers, but his blue eyes were filled with kindness. She felt hesitant, self-conscious, as he gazed into her eyes. She had been burned before by the flames of passion. But his hands were slow and he accepted the word "no" without complaint.
"I love you," he whispered as he drifted past her, an old rusting part in his hand.
He was warm and gentle. She would miss him if he left, but the words stuck in her mouth. Instead, she whispered, "I have a son."
He nodded and returned the next month. Watto's eyes watched them warily, but found no evidence of their gentle caresses.
"I love you," he whispered.
"I know, Cliegg," she whispered back, but her son was waiting... and she loathed to use his affection to simply depart. "I have a son."
"I'll find him," he promised, and his eyes shone with sincerity. It was a promise of a freeman and one he would keep.
Shmi glanced at the sky and the various ships descending and ascending. "I know where he is and I intend to find him."
He grabbed her hand and knelt before her. "I will help you find him. I love you."
And life once again changed.
"I love you," she whispered.
Five days later, as Tyra took to the sky, Shmi Skywalker-Lars stood beside her husband and stared at the old rusting shuttle. Her son was on Coruscant; they said it was a city filled with lights, each of which could grant a wish. They boarded the shuttle and Shmi traced the image of her beautiful boy in her mind. Sometimes, she would lie next to her husband, and whisper to him.
Anakin had the softest brown hair she had ever felt. The dimples when he smiled could give even the most hardened criminal a pause. Freedom was in his eyes which reflected the sky. He was the sun that had kept her in orbit through the hardest times. But now Cliegg had entered... He didn't feel like another sun, even though her heart yearned for him all the same. He was simply stable with a certainty that she could take comfort in.
Perhaps he was a moon, orbiting around her. His presence pulled on her heart strings and they say the moon brought the mightiest of rains. A moon, Cliegg would be.
They arrived on Coruscant, uncertain whether it was day or night; the city simply shone too bright. At the landing deck, Shmi glanced over the edge. She swayed as she looked into the endless abyss. Here on Coruscant one could climb and touch the sky, but also fall far beyond hope. Her dear son was somewhere near and her heart clenched at the thought of him stumbling and falling to the world's end.
It didn't take long to find the Jedi Temple and hope swelled within Shmi. Her precious son was nearby and how many years had it been? Under the unfamiliar sky, she and Cliegg climbed up the steps to the temple and stared at the towering pillars carved of pure stone. Droids and Jedi drifted by, along with tourists gaping like them.
It felt like a building out of a legend where a great king slayed a dragon and built it upon its corpse. It felt like a place where gods came to rest and ponder. It felt like a place of promise and hope. It was her son's home. Perhaps he was happy. She could only hope that he had found freedom in the palace of destiny.
The guards did not let Cliegg in. Nor did they allow Shmi to pass. Anakin Skywalker was a Padawaan and not able to accept guests, even if she had brought him into this world. She asked for his teacher, the strange man who had gone by Qui-Gon and was met with dirty looks. Robed Jedi passed, tall and short, without sparing a heart thundered and then she heard their words through the thick Core accent.
"Master, I think the mission went well."
"Wait, Master, I want to train."
"Master. Please, no mediation."
Master... implying possession over another being. Only Cliegg by her side kept her upright. Her son was once again a slave... or had never been free in the first place. It was as she had feared and she cursed herself for not listening to those instincts of the past. Anakin Skywalker would be free. She had promised. But first, she had to find her boy.
If only she knew who his master was.
Shmi got a job at a small café, far below the glamorous heights of Coruscant. Deep within the bowels of the city where light barely shone, she worked day and night with Cliegg beside her. They had a small apartment and meager savings. Once a week, Shmi would climb the steps to the forbidden temple and try to plead, beguile, and bribe her way inside. She just wanted her son in her arms once more.
But every time she was rebuffed.
Age lines marred her face. On Tatooine, slaves never bothered with time. But here on Coruscant, clocks ticked relentlessly and calendars shone from every screen. The Boonta Eve Classic had been over ten years ago. Her darling son would be nineteen now. Had it truly been so long?
And even if she saw him, would he recognize her as his precious mother? Did he even need her anymore? Destiny hadn't stripped his life away yet for his name was not on the tongue of the masses. Shmi knew destiny would come and her eyes watched the sky with worry.
After months had passed and hope began to die, Shmi saw a familiar face on the news: Senator Amidala. She was no longer a simple handmaiden accompanying a Jedi and looking for safety on Tatooine. The girl stood strong before the senate: a warrior of justice. Curiosity led Shmi to search for her name.
Victories followed her name like sand clung to one's hair. Padmé Amidala was a woman of tremendous gravity. And at the bottom of one article, Shmi discovered that the slim girl who had taken a shine to her son was not the handmaiden as she had claimed, but the Queen. A smile blossomed on her face and Shmi shook her head. Perhaps, for a debt long passed, Padmé would assist Shmi on her quest to find her son.
And so she set out with Cliegg at her side.
Destiny chose that moment to strike. Perhaps it was happenstance, but Shmi scowled as headlines of assassination blared across every screen. The woman who could aid her had gone to the ground. Shmi made an appointment anyway.
Padmé returned as news of war broke. An army of clones, of slaves, had been raised. It left a sour taste in Shmi's mouth, but the Republic had never helped her anyway. She should never have let Anakin leave. Now, he was committed in service to a regime that betrayed its people.
Padmé was taller than Shmi remembered and there were more lines in her face. She stood with more poise and an air of confidence wrapped around her. Padmé took one look at her and her eyes widened. "Shmi?"
Shmi grinned. The girl, who was no longer a girl, remembered her name. "Padmé. A plainly dressed queen you were."
A small smile tugged on Padmé's lip. "Anakin will be thrilled," she exclaimed and then her eyes settled on Cliegg beside her.
"My husband," Shmi said. "I haven't seen Anakin in years. They will not let me."
"They?"
She scowled at the thought of the warriors who had successfully impeded her search for her son. "Every week I climb the steps to the temple. I beg to see Anakin, my son, but the guards do not let me pass. Ask for his Master, they say. The Jedi promised he would be free, yet I come to find him as much as a slave before."
Padmé gasped and nodded. "Master is a word of respect here. Your son is free."
The rumors that swirled in the lower city begged to differ. "They say the Jedi cannot marry. Cannot love. Cannot care for a child. A slave they are and I promised that my son would be free."
"Let me call Anakin."
Her son had grown. He towered above them with windswept brown hair and he only had eyes for Padmé. Anakin bowed to her and Shmi pursed her lip as she saw the golden limb hanging from his side. The Jedi back then had not told her many things. Her son should have been safe, yet he walked maimed.
He turned and took a shaking step forward. "Mom!"
His hand of flesh stroked her face and she stood still as he examined her while her own eyes drank in every detail she could. He had changed. His face had become chiseled and there was even a remnant of stubble. He pulled her into a warm hug and Shmi relaxed. He was still the warm sun that hung in the sky and soothed her aches and pains. He smelt of grease, sweat, and machinery... but then again, he always had..
She reached up and cupped his face. "Anakin. I've missed you. The guards wouldn't let me see you."
His face darkened. "What guards?"
"The ones at the temple. They said I had to ask for your Master, but Anakin, I want you to be free. You're supposed to walk the skies and follow your heart. I'm sorry."
"Mother, Obi-Wan is my teacher, my friend, not my Master."
"Yet you cannot marry. You cannot love. You cannot care for a child."
He looked away sheepishly. "I'm not the best Jedi, Mom. But... I would like you to meet my wife, Padmé Amidala-Skywalker."
Padmé waved sheepishly and Shmi gaped. It felt surreal to think a childhood friendship would turn into something more.
"And this is Cliegg, my husband."
Anakin looked at him and bowed. "Thank you for taking care of my mother. I love her very much. Padmé?"
His wife—and Shmi still had not wrapped her mind around it—waved. "Go on. Spend time with your mother."
They wandered the upper pathways of Coruscant, where the sun always shone. Everyone moved briskly, unaware of the yearning darkness beneath their feet and the few thin sheets of metal in between. Shmi did not like Coruscant.
They talked and giggled. Anakin took her to a café and ordered her a milkshake. The sweetness brought tears to her eyes. She took Anakin into the depths and a small racing alley. She might not like the sport, but to see her son's blinding smile, she would sit beside him.
The sun set and they sat upon a bench, staring at the glowing orange and the lights of the city blotting out the stars. Coruscant was alone in the galaxy as its presence obscured all others. Shmi leaned on her son and closed her eyes as he breathed in and out. How times had changed. Once, he would have laid on her lap and she would have sung to ease the terrors of the night.
"I like it here. It's never truly dark and there's always some hope... but the war... I'm worried. I'm going into the field. I have to. People depend on me."
She shook her head and wrapped his cloak around her hand. "No, Anakin. You don't. You can stay with Padmé and bask in your love. The galaxy will still stand. Republic or Sepratist, it doesn't matter. Life will go on."
His voice rumbled. "I'm a Jedi. It's my duty."
He had been chained to a wilier master, but a master nonetheless. Destiny was whispering. It always whispered when wars were brewing. And those who heard its call would fall. Fame and glory would immortalise their soul. But they would still fall.
"I'm coming with you," she declared.
He left to the front without her.
As a civilian, they told Shmi she was forbidden from joining. She knew how to fire a blaster, but it was not enough. She asked why her son could go and they said he had trained for this and it was his duty as a Jedi. Duty meant nothing. Her son was risking his life and Shmi could only watch from afar as the death tolls grew and weighed upon his shoulders.
How could she save him from destiny when destiny did not let her interfere? He had grown in her absence and no longer needed her. Yet the months ticked by and Shmi could see the troops faltering and the Separatists gaining. Her son was fighting a losing war.
His wife, Padmé, fought in the senate. Her clear voice would carry across the room and for a while, Shmi acted as her aide, but it drew too many curious eyes. Curious eyes were dangerous when around those struck by destiny. After all, every hero had a fallen parent of some sort. If she could not stand by his side, she would be his anchor. Invisible to all but him... and his wife.
The war stretched on. Blaster bolts bled red across footage and droids continued to resupply the front lines. The Republic commissioned more clones—more endless dispensable slaves.
Shmi felt only disgust. Their lives were stricken by the destiny of their birth. They would never know peace. Unable to stand aside for any longer, she brought her needle and joined the medics. Anakin was furious and his sun flared, but Shmi held steadfast. She would protect her son by any means possible. She had to be close and with her skills, perhaps she could patch the debilitating blow that would befall him.
Later, he asked her why she was worried.
"You're a child of destiny," she replied, "conceived when Drago betrayed Tyla. And I refuse to relinquish my son to such a cruel mistress. I promised you would be free and I will find a way."
"I am free, Mother." He looked at her as if she was silly. "I was conceived? I thought I had no father."
Shmi scoffed. "Every child has a sire. A father is not necessary, but often desired. A father brings security and happiness. A father protects against pain and when it becomes too much, shelters with the family. A father is present. So yes. You had no father, but you were still conceived."
He looked away uncomfortably and she wondered what idiocy the Jedi had been filling his head with. He couldn't have been sired from nowhere. Even as a slave, she had understood that. Now, with medical training, she knew it was an impossibility. The Jedi were certainly strange masters.
Anakin left. Cliegg followed Shmi to the front lines. Under enemy fire, they helped hurry the clones back to safety and tended to their bleeding wounds. Rumors swirled around them and Shmi listened diligently for the sign of destiny stirring. There would be a great fight. It was sworn.
The Chancellor had been kidnapped. Shmi watched the news, uncertain of what to feel. The Chancellor returned in a blazing crashing ship.
Destiny had come knocking.
Shmi turned in her resignation and returned to Coruscant. The darkness beneath her feet yearned for her fall and she avoided the lower pathways. There was danger afoot; she could feel it within her bones. Anakin came to her one evening. Padmé was pregnant. So she and Cliegg moved in as special guests. Officially, they were nurses if anyone asked, but they lived under a shroud of secrecy.
The Chancellor came by on occasion, his breath smelling of rotting flesh. Shmi made sure to stay out of sight and mind. Her instincts were tingling and she listened them to diligently as any desert raised child should.
Anakin continued to look worse for wear and Shmi fretted endlessly. He was tossing and turning in his sleep. The terrors of the night had returned at long last. The day would come soon and Shmi took to carrying an additional blaster that Padmé helped her acquire.
It was as the sun set that it happened.
She felt it deep within her bones and knew Drago had betrayed Tyla once again. She hurried to return to the apartment as the streets flooded with panicked citizens and the clones moved stiffly with arms like droids. They had been slaves before, but now, their identity had been stripped even further.
The apartment was empty and Padmé's personal ship had left.
Cliegg at her side, she searched through the logs for some hint to help her find her son. Her eyes closed, she prayed desperately. Destiny brushed against her mind and Shmi knew.
She knew where her son was.
She knew what would befall him if she was too late.
Padmé was en-route with a stowaway in her hold.
Her son had broken free of his chains... but was ready to fall into another.
No words needed to be said between her and Cliegg as she rushed to the cargo ship that they had secreted away. It contained the fastest hyperdrive on the market; illegal perhaps, but it had saved countless lives. It thrummed to life beneath her touch.
Ignoring protocol and departure codes, Shmi blasted into space. Her hands trembled, but this was the opportunity she had been waiting for. The Republic was falling. They claimed the Chancellor was the Emperor now but Shmi didn't care. The Republic hadn't saved her or her son, nor would this newfound Empire. Only within her own hands, could she control her destiny.
The red planet of Mustafar grew in the window and a dark energy thrummed within Shmi. Her sun around which her world revolved was below her. He no longer shone so bright, but Shmi would follow him regardless. He was there.
She landed beside the Naboo cruiser and the slowly opening hatch. Her arrival stole Anakin's attention. Shmi stepped onto the realm of lava, and smiled. The heat was familiar. Drago had betrayed Tyla. But her son, her son would not betray her. This endless cycle could cease.
"You're no longer a Jedi," she stated simply as she walked forward and Padmé's worried eyes bore into her back.
"The Jedi betrayed me," he snarled.
Was that the betrayal she had felt? It did not matter for she would always stand by her son. "The Jedi betrayed you long before, Anakin. They lied to me that you would be free, but you weren't. Do you understand now?"
The rage within his eyes subsided and she could feel the darkness within him. The bright sun that had once been was no more. Still, Shmi smiled. One did not need a sun to revolve about. A moon revolved around a planet despite the lack of the heat. And the air around Anakin simmered. He was warm still.
She stepped closer.
He watched her like a caged animal that had been burned one too many times.
"You're my son, Anakin. I will always stand by your side as long as you stand tall. I want you to be free... like I promised on the day you were born." She offered her hand.
He accepted it and she could see the small shake within his shoulders. He was crying.
"Anakin. I was so worried," Padmé finally said. She fell silent as Shmi shot her a warning look.
A Jedi stepped out of the cruiser, his face filled with anguish, but Shmi could not bring herself to care. From the holos that blared her son and this man's face across every board, she knew who he was: Obi-Wan Kenobi. Her son's master.
"Anakin... Why?"
Anakin quivered beside her. "Have you come to kill me, Obi-Wan? Betray me like all the other Jedi."
"You are like my brother, Anakin," Obi-Wan choked out and took a hesitant step forward, his lightsaber falling from his hand. "I love you. Just tell me why? The children... There was no need for them to die."
Looking at the broken man before them, desperately pleading and trying to understand, Shmi realized he was just a slave himself, bound to an order that cared not for his life. Why else would they send a self-proclaimed brother to reclaim the runaway? Attachments were forbidden, yet the Jedi weaponized them well.
Shmi took a step forward. "I was told that my son would be free. Yet when I freed myself from my bonds and journeyed to return to my son's side, the guards at your temple turned me aside. Anakin has never been free until this moment and so I will stand by his side. You can either realize the fault of the institution you serve or fight us."
"You were the Chosen One, Anakin," Obi-Wan pleaded and took another step forward.
Anakin shoved them behind him and held his lightsaber ready.
"You were supposed to bring balance to the Force. Not join the Sith!"
The Sith... It sounded like another institution, another set of bonds that would claim her son. This close to freedom, she would not let her son fall into a trap. Destiny aside, the Jedi was right; her son would not join the Sith. She took a step forward.
"Son, I wish you to be free. Not to trade for yet another Master. You have always been a child of destiny, but you have the strength to break free."
Padmé grabbed his natural hand and placed it on her swollen stomach. "Please, Anakin... Come with me and help raise our child. We don't need to serve others anymore."
Anakin turned and looked at them, a small wistful smile crossing his face. No longer was he a sun burning brightly for all the galaxy to see, but a black hole which held its beloved in orbit. They would not leave.
He gently took his hand back and pressed a kiss against their foreheads before turning to his former Master. "Obi-Wan. What would you say to one last mission? The Emperor must fall."
"Yoda," Obi-Wan began and his shoulder quivered. "One last mission for the brother I lost."
Anakin chuckled as he cast a quick glance at Padmé. "You know how to deal with rambunctious Skywalkers. What do you think of Uncle Obi?"
"I would love that, Anakin," Obi-Wan replied.
And such, a grieving little sun rekindled and began to orbit what had once been the brightest sun in the galaxy. All stars eventually died, but the biggest transformed into an eternal black hole. Destiny had not claimed the life of her son, although it had irrevocably changed him. It did not matter. Shmi loved him all the same.