A/N: This chapter contains an Ekkreth story. While this particular story is my own invention, Ekkreth is a genderfluid mythological trickster from Tatooine slave folklore. Ekkreth and their place in Tatooine's slave culture belong to Fialleril, who is a phenomenal storyteller and everyone should read them and look them up on Tumblr. Etra and Tyun, translating to "Justice" and "Vengeance" respectively, are the local name for Tatooine's binary suns and are borrowed from obeyingthemuse's Ad Uturmque Paratus.

Chapter IV

Rex holds himself perfectly still as he has done for the past half hour, HUD engaged and fixed on the decrepit Li Merge building. Though he cannot see them, he knows the squad is spread around behind him, waiting.

The generals and commander might have rushed from the Temple at well past 0230, but Rex hadn't served an entire war with Skywalker without learning a few tricks. Namely, an alarm that went off every time the Jedi moved from his intended location and trackers in every vehicle the general could conceivably get his hands on.

He'd scrambled Kix, Vaize, Kickback, Hotshot and Appo from Torrent Company and followed the tracking signal. By the time the squad eased into the dark industrial district, only Kenobi and Tano had been seated in the speeder, both uneasily meditating.

Not long after that, they leapt up and dashed into the building following yet one more unseen instinct.

"Should we follow them, sir?" Vaize asked gruffly. Rex thought about it, shook his head. Every time he'd personally come up against either Ventress or Dooku, he'd been painfully aware of just how much of a liability he and his brothers were to the Jedi - Ventress had successfully escaped several times simply by forcing Skywalker to choose between defeating her and saving Rex or his men. The general had chosen to save them every time.

"We might get in the way," he remarked, his HUD tracking their heat signatures as they strode deeper into the building. "We need to get a lay of the battle before we charge in. Hotshot, get yourself set with a rifle. If the kriffhead running this war comes out first, maybe we can surprise him. Kix, you know what to do." The medic only nodded sharply and started cleaning out a space on the durasteel deck for trauma treatment.

"Appo, get ahold of Captain Gregor and get Commander Cody here," Rex continued as the heat signatures of his commander and General Kenobi began to flicker on his HUD, the structure interfering with the readings as they descended deeper into the building.

They had settled down to wait, and so far, whatever immense struggle was going on between Jedi and Sith had remained contained–

His earpiece crackles to life.

"Execute Order 66."

Blankness follows.

888

Mace is still awake, pacing as meditation fails him, his mind far too caught up in the question of how to save Skywalker–

–he staggers as his tether to his one-time Padawan brutally snaps. Depa…he collapses. Luckily, the wall is there to ease his fall. Depa! He knows it is fruitless, knows that she's gone, the breaking of their training bond is proof of that–

The emergency comm unit in his quarters blares to life, Ponds springing into life-size holo. "General! He's triggered the order!" He can see Ponds take in his position. "Are you well, sir?"

"No," Mace replies curtly. "How many did we warn?" he cuts off any further enquiries, shoving himself off the floor.

Ponds' body shifts minutely, agonized even though the helmet of course betrays nothing. "Not enough, sir. Many of the battalions were out on maneuvres and we couldn't reach them."

Like Depa's, Mace thinks. He closes his eyes, feeling the saltwater sting as two tears escape. He swallows. Depa…Caleb! "Get to Commander Grey."

Ponds nods shortly. "We'll save them, General."

Mace shakes his head. "Depa is…Depa is already gone. But Caleb…"

"The boy's smart, sir. We'll contact Squad 99. They're with the 387th. They'll be able to help him."

We hope, Mace things grimly. "Do it. Tell your brothers to do what they can. Protect all you can," he orders roughly, forcing his eyes open.

"Yes sir!"

888

Anakin stares at his wife, choking on air. Stares at his master pinned against the wall the way Depur hangs executed slaves on the walls of Mos Espa, limbs spread and helpless. Stares at his little sister, his padawan, held rigid against the opposite bunker wall, her own lightsabers floating to crackle too close to her exposed neck.

Vos's presence is flickering. Another life Anakin might fail to save. Across the galaxy, he can feel his fellow Jedi falling under the fire of their own troops, the brothers they trusted turned against them with three words.

Even if he charges Palpatine and cuts him in half, he will not be fast enough to save them all.

Wife. Children. Brother. Sister. The Jedi Order. The vode. He cannot make this choice. This decision is beyond him.

He loathes the triumph in Depur's eyes as Sidious sees that truth, the gloating knowledge that the Sith is winning.

"Put down your weapon. Kneel to me, Anakin, and I will let you keep them all."

"He's lying!"

"Don't listen to him!" Obi-Wan and Ahsoka shout in unison. Padmé struggles furiously against the hold on her throat. Fear scalds him as one flailing hand gets too close to the shrinking ray shield.

Anakin drops to his knees.

"No!" his family cries. He ignores them.

He is four years old, watching his mother bend under Gardulla's lash. Wearing the punishment for his constant pleas for water, strapped in his place because he was her responsibility and he was annoying Depur and her overseers. His thirsty cries were silenced, even as Depur's cruelty and his mother's pain imprinted on his own body, Ar-Amu's gifts to him too strong to shut them out. Neither of them shed tears. Crying was a waste of water.

Her voice filters through his panic across the years:

"There are as many Ekkreth stories as there are slaves on Tatooine, which is to say, there are stories without number, and more every day. This is one of them…"

888

One day, as Ekkreth was going along, they noticed silence. The deep pits where Depur forced his slaves to labor stood empty, and only stillness greeted them as they flew over the Quarters.

Every home, every sand pit, every hidden place was vacant. An uncommon dread pooled in Ekkreth. This was not the hushed satisfaction of a victorious escape. This stillness was unnatural, a muzzle of Depur's design.

At length, Ekkreth flew over the arena where Depur made his slaves fight to the death when they displeased him, and saw all of their people inside, from the newborn babes to the grandmothers. They landed on quiet wings and took the form of a little girl with dark hair and curious eyes.

They made their way to the first grandmother they saw, and, taking her hand and squeezing gently, said, "Grandmother, why has Depur forced our people in here?"

"Ah, because Depur fears Ekkreth. The Trickster steals more slaves from him every day, setting them free with the strength of womp rat, the persistence of the kirik fly, the stubbornness of the bantha, the cunning of the wild anooba and the mighty heart of Ley-ah. Depur cannot abide the idea that we might vanish from him."

"But surely it will be easier for Ekkreth to free everyone since we are all here together," they said, looking around at their people huddled against the edges of the arena, seeking shade in the heat of the suns.

"Alas, no, little Sky-Walker," Grandmother smiled down at them, a knowing smile on her sun-wrinkled cheeks, "it is not so easy. Depur has declared that he will take five of us every day at suns set to feed to his starved massiffs until Ekkreth surrenders and consents to be placed in chains."

Ekkreth tilted their head and considered. They had worn chains before. Often. They always slipped them, with their siblings in tow, for there was no chain forged that could hold the Sky-Walker.

Except, and Ekkreth's borrowed shape turned cold, those chains forged of their children themselves.

888

Darkness presses in. Anakin breathes shallowly, as if the triumphant savagery of his master is water that will drown him if drunk too freely. He can barely feel his bonds to Ahsoka, to Obi-Wan. The wretched desolation of Depur's mind is endeavoring to devour them, rotten teeth sinking in deep enough to smell its fetid breath.

"Come, Lord Vader. Accept the truth. Allow yourself to become what you have always been."

My servant. The greatest power the galaxy has ever known under my heel–

Anakin's head is pounding like the Hutt drums at a mass execution, thundering against his skull. His mouth is dry as it was that last day he'd ever cried for water, and he can hear the crackle of the whip, laced with the electrical hatred of the Dark.

"Ani, please stand up," he hears Padmé begging, but he cannot see her, cannot see anything but the patch of bunker concrete?-shifting sand?-yawning void? directly at Master's feet.

"I…" he croaks, tries to wet his too-dry lips. He cannot feel the impact of the Jedi he knows are dying outside of this forsaken well.

"Reach out and take the power you've always had, my boy. The power the galaxy has always owed you. I will teach you everything you need to know to save them."

888

Ekkreth flew from the arena on beaten wings, their heart too heavy for them to soar with the ease that had so marked their coming.

They flew and flew. And while they were flying, they turned over and discarded many plans. Ekkreth is the Slave Who Makes Free, the one who always casts off their chains and leads their laughing children to safety. But as the suns set, they heard the wailing of Ar-Amu's children, and the snarling of Depur's wild massiffs, and they knew it was time.

They landed and transformed into that which they knew Depur desired most: a young man, with shoulders strong as a bantha, skin dark as the dunes under Echuni's gaze, and eyes the whirling green of the lesser krayt dragon. They strode up to the gate of Depur's palace, where the guard blocked their path.

"Strangers are not welcome after suns set," the guard dismissed them with a sneer. "Come back tomorrow to speak with our lord."

"The suns are not yet set. I would speak with him now," Ekkreth replied. "For I am Ekkreth, and I know your master has been seeking me. I have come to make him an offer."

The guard hastily raised the gate and hurried before Ekkreth as they entered, shoulders straight and eyes lifted ahead, despite not knowing if this trap was one they would find a way out of.

"My lord!" the guard cried, rushing into Depur's great throne room, "Ekkreth comes, and says they are ready to kneel to you!"

Ekkreth remained straight backed and proud. "Depur, I have a bargain for you."

"Do you, shape-shifter? And why should I trust any bargain you might make?"

"I will agree to face your massifs myself every night if I can face them alone."

"Alone? They shall tear you to bits. If you are to face my beasts, it will be as you are now, Sky-Walker, or I shall throw your precious siblings in with you and watch my massifs feed richly."

"I will don your collar and enter the arena wearing this face and none other. So long as I go alone," Ekkreth vowed.

So Depur crowed his victory to the stars as he placed a collar around Ekkreth's neck and bade them prepare themselves for their battle to next day.

That night, Depur's slaves wept bitter tears, and did not care for the waste of water, for they knew what it meant: Depur had gotten his dearest wish. The Sky-Walker had been chained.

888

"I will…I will…"Anakin shivers violently. Don't stutter. Don't stammer. Above all, keep Depur from seeing your fear. The lessons of the desert are still hammered into him, fifteen years and a lifetime of experience later, and he is failing even at that.

"Will what, my boy? It is unusual for you to struggle to speak so." A twitch of Palpatine's hand, and Anakin hears the grating shriek of the ray shield closing on Padmé.

"Anakin–" Obi-Wan's breathing is labored, as if he cannot catch a full breath, "don't give in. Don't give him yourself!"

"Ah, Kenobi. It was always going to end this way. You see, Lord Vader knows who truly loves and values him. Not your hidebound Order from whom he hid his marriage. Not the Jedi Code, that stifles his every impulse and ambition. Not you, Master Kenobi, with your adherence to outdated rules that have assured the destruction of the Order that is your only passion."

"Sith…don't…love," Ahsoka pants, and Anakin can hear ferocious loyalty and determination lining her voice, even as it pulses down their bond, forcing the Dark to recoil.

"Oh my dear. So certain, are you, in your philosophy? That overconfidence in the Jedi's superiority…remind me who turned you over to the Senate for war crimes, despite your innocence?"

Ahsoka's touch on his mind is blinding white, blossoming calm in the face of Sidious' assertion. "I know what the Force has planned for me. It is not the path of the Jedi. You cannot use that against me, Sith." Anakin hears her choke on her next defiant proclamation, feels the scrape of Sidious' claws against her throat as if it is his own.

"Your friends bore me, Lord Vader. Make your choice."

888

For three days Ekkreth languished at the foot of Depur's throne, a prize displayed to all who entered, declaring him in truth Depur Depuran and the final master of the Sky-Walker.

And each day at suns set, they stood in the arena and faced Depur's snarling massifs.

The first day, Ekkreth made use of their wonderful voice, and sang and told stories until the rabid beasts turned curious, then calm, then sleepy. When they lay their heads down on their massive paws and snored, Ekkreth knew they'd won.

But their voice was gone, and even the next morning, they could barely manage a whisper.

The second evening, Ekkreth could see the expectation of more singing in the brutes' eyes. Instead, they called on Lukka, Ley-ah's ethereal twin, the desert storm, and Lukka whirled into the arena to play, whipping grains of sand into endless shapes that the massifs chased and pounced upon until exhaustion overtook them and once more they slept.

But even for Ekkreth, Lukka's gifts are not free. The spinning sand had scraped over Ekkreth's chosen form for hours, and their fingers were strafed bloody and raw.

Change, shape-shifter. I know I cannot hurt you for long, Lukka whispered, his voice wind over sand.

"I cannot," Ekkreth murmured wearily. "Lest my siblings suffer." And they allowed Grandmother to bandage their hands as best as she could.

The third evening, Depur lost patience with his clever slave, and sent Ekkreth to the arena wearing the chains that bound them to the master's throne, hands bandaged and voice sore. "You had some clever tricks," the overseer sneered, "but I think they've run out about now, eh Sky-Walker? Tonight, the massifs will feed well on your bones. And tomorrow, we will start feeding them your siblings."

And Ekkreth worried, for Depur had taken pains to ensure they were helpless, and how could their siblings be expected to stand against the master's beasts if Ekkreth could not? The overseer laughed as he locked them in the arena and leisurely went to free Depur's monsters.

As they waited, Ekkreth knelt in the hard-packed sand, letting the grains dig into their knees as they bent their head.

"Ar-Amu, Who gives shape to the desert and life to Her children, the One Whom the Moons mirror and the Suns protect," they whispered, "my cleverness fails me. Help me find a way to free my siblings from Depur's lash."

For long minutes, Ekkreth remained bowed, their eyes closed. They could hear the overseer's key in the heavy gate, the metal-on-metal shriek of the tumbling lock.

Then the wind blew, and on that breeze came a gentle sigh hooked into a soft laugh and an encompassing presence that had been there at the beginning of the world:

Who are you, Ekkreth? Who did I make you to be? Slave, yes, but at your core, your soul, you are not a slave to amuse Depur with countless tricks. You are the Slave Who Makes Free. Remember who you are.

The breeze died and the sand settled and the heavy footfalls of Depur's massifs thundered towards them. Still Ekkreth knelt.

And when they rose to face their death, there was a smile on their face.

888

"Anahkeen. The Bringer of Rain. The Reckoner of Depur Depuran." Mom smudged his cheeks with red ochre, sorrow leaking with pride between them. Anakin has been declared five years of age today, and Watto may now separate them at his leisure. "Anahkeen Ekkreth. So I have named you, and so shall you ever be. This is who you are."

The whole scene unraveling before him seems unimaginably far away. Shafts of Light and Dark spear through Anakin's consciousness as he kneels as Ekkreth had before Depur. He breathes deeply and closes his eyes.

Who I am. He has spent his life being…many people. Watto's slave. Qui-Gon's Chosen One. Obi-Wan's Padawan. Padme's husband. Ahsoka's master. Jedi. General. Father.

But at my core…I am Shmi's son, Anahkeen Ekkreth, given to my people by Ar-Amu. And I am the Rainstorm, the Slave Who Makes Free.

One by one, he brings down every wall. Every door he has installed over his long tenure on Coruscant. Every protection placed for his own mind and the security of others, every construct he'd created to dim the thundering call of the Force to a more comfortable flowing river.

But he has not been made for comfort. Neither Anahkeen Ekkreth of the Desert nor Anakin Skywalker of the Jedi is meant to glide through the galaxy on easy hyperlanes. His wings are red, they beat under fierce skies, and they are made to lead his people to freedom.

The Force floods in as he has not permitted it to during his earliest days in the Core. He gasps, and, unseen over his bowed head, Darth Sidious smiles.

"Such power, my boy. Such command you shall have when I am through with you!"

(Anakin does not hear him, the Force resonating in him is far louder than one of its single, corrupted servants.)

He observes what is within. His bonds with Ahsoka and Obi-Wan are fraying. His bond with Padme is obscured. Anakin plucks the binding to his former Padawan. She pours love back to him, a ferocious admiration and affection that throbs musically within him, lightening him. He gently tugs at the bond binding him to his former master–

(Reku, 'Master' is not a fair title for his older brother.)

–and another surge of deep pride wells through him, accompanied by a fathomless love that wraps the Force between them in shades of brilliant warmth. He turns his attention to Padme, and the unfailing adoration and devotion of their bond flares back to life, nestled between the bonds to the two Jedi, creating a feedback loop of cherished love that beat back the Dark.

He reaches out, spiraling his consciousness into the galaxy. First he seeks Vos, whose life flickers as his brain swells, and Anakin is guided by the Force in soothing the other man's mind, gently encouraging crude matter to return to its right state. He feels the Kiffar's breathing even out, his brain patterns settle into unconscious healing.

Next, he touches the kyber in Ahsoka's sabers, moving them out of alignment so the blades flicker and die. He peels the Dark from its hold on Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, dimly registers that the physical bodies containing their warmth and luminosity have fallen to the floor, released from Sidious' hold. Vaguely, he realizes that Sidious is beginning to understand that this is not going as expected. But Anakin cannot make himself be concerned about one Depur. He stretches out again.

Kyber flares galaxy-wide in response to his call, each a shining point in the grey murkiness that wraps the Force, makes it sluggish. There are holes, where he can sense the vanishing of Jedi from the galaxy. Part of him dimly knows that he will mourn this later, but now he is not Anakin, he is the Force, and he is already moving to soothe the damage.

(There are not so many holes, not nearly enough for all Jedi to have been executed, and he knows that his human heart will feel relief when the Force releases him.)

Darkness warps the fabric of the galaxy, dimming even the stars. The Light he senses struggles on, in the Jedi, in the Order at Jedha, in the individual hearts of trillions of sentients from tens of thousands of worlds, but the Dark is engorged, devouring it from the outside in, and Anakin can feel its teeth as it rips chunks from the universe and churns them in its gaping maw.

You, Anakin tells it firmly, do not belong. Light. Dark. Balance.

The Dark snarls at him, but Anakin simply stretches with the tendrils of his bonds and begins to bind the monster.

I am the Bringer of Balance.

888

Ekkreth faced the massifs, hulking shapes highlighted in double shadows as Etra and Tyun settled towards the horizon. The sharp-jawed carnivores pad towards them, heads cocked and ready for what new game Ekkreth has prepared.

But their hands are damaged, their voice sung silent, and Lukka has not come. The beasts' patience lasted only long enough to draw near and smell the blood on Ekkreth's bandages. Their lips curled, and snarls rumbled low in their throats.

The Trickster waited calmly. The Slave Who Makes Free. Their role was to turn Depur's tools against him, and Depur has, in fact, given them one more tool.

The first massif, the largest, the alpha female who had been named Bone Breaker by their Depur, lowered her huge head and charged, saliva dripping from her teeth as she lunged at Ekkreth's arm, incisors snapped shut to crack bone–

But Ekkreth was not there. They whirled, dancing away, long chain held in both hands. The next massif darted forward, and Ekkreth twirled again. This time, the long chain flew and caught the second predator across its snout, scoring a bloody line.

With that, the remaining three dashed forward, each snapping and snarling for a bite. Ekkreth twisted between them, uncatchable as Lukka, stinging face and ribs with their chain like the kirik fly.

Maddened, the massifs pursued, yelping as their teeth nipped their fellows and Ekkreth's chain drew line nd after line across their hides.

Presently, they began to slow, panting in long breaths, tongues lolling from their mouths. When Bone Breaker charged again, Ekkreth looped their chain neatly around her neck and swung themselves astride her. She twisted and torqued her neck, trying to catch their legs in her jaws, but Ekkreth held on grimly, and as the alpha slowly surrendered to their dominance, the remaining massifs sat on their haunches and mewled their submission.

Ekkreth surveyed their small pack, taking in the wounds they'd inflicted with a pitying eye. These beasts were not so different than their siblings, or, for that matter, from Ekkreth themself. They, too, were slaves, and had been pitted against them for Depur's amusement.

"Come, children of Ar-Amu" they coaxed them. "Freedom awaits us." They slid off Bone Breaker's back, and stared into her wide yellow eyes. "No more are you Bone Breaker, for that is Depur's designation. Now you are Etra, Justice, named for the sunlight in your eyes."

And they led the pack back into their kennel, where Depur kept the detonators to all of his slaves, for none could enter the massifs kennels save for Depur and his overseer. But the overseer took one look at Ekkreth's pack, at the lips curled back over long canines, and fled in fear of his life.

So Ekkreth took each detonator and rode into the slave quarters, where silence greeted them for long moments before rejoicing erupted. And each slave was given their detonator to destroy, and Ekkreth sent four of the massifs to guard their siblings as they slipped from the quarters and wound their way through the desert to freedom.

The next morning, the suns rose on an empty arena, and Depur stood immobilized by his fury as Ekkreth strode up to him, free of their chains, Etra at their side.

The Sky-Walker stood proudly before Depur, a wide smile on their face. "Know this, Depur. I have tricked you. Even as you sought to make the lives of my siblings themselves my shackles, I have freed first your weapons and then them. The chain has never been forged that can hold me."

And they transformed into a little red bird and flew away over the Desert, Etra loping in their wake, leaving Depur disconsolate behind them.

888

"I tell you this story to save your life."

"I will remember."

It has taken fourteen years, but Anakin does remember.

The chain has never been forged that can hold me, he tells the Dark, as he gently continues to twine the braided light of his love for Padme, his protectiveness of Ahsoka, his gratitude to Obi-Wan and his fierce worship of his unborn children around the sickness in the galaxy.

And this is no chain. Yet will it bind you.

Obi-Wan holds Ahsoka's gaze, and reads both fear and certitude in her bright-blue gaze. Whatever Anakin is doing, it has surpassed the realm of anything they have studied, of all he has ever felt. He thought his bond to his former Padawan was strong. In the face of Anakin's suddenly-immense presence, Obi-Wan realizes that none in the Order - not himself, not the Council, not any of the teachers or masters that Anakin had interacted with in the last fourteen years, had had any idea what it was like to feel the Force as Anakin Skywalker did.

Over Anakin's still-kneeling form, Obi-Wan sees Sidious' yellow eyes widen. Then narrow, and he yanks the Jedi to his feet. The Negotiator sucks in a breath, ready to speak even though he knows it will be useless.

"What are you doing?" Sidious hisses.

When Anakin opens his eyes, they blaze with the brilliance of Tatooine's suns at midday, the Force around him a corona so bright as to nearly be physically blinding. It is Light, whole and untarnished, and it lifts him, singing a symphony of wellbeing. He sees the same wonder in Ahsoka's expression and they both start smiling despite the desperation of the situation, the beauty of the Force all-encompassing.

"There shall be no more deaths at your hand, Darth Sidious," Anakin spoke, and his voice was both his own and that of others, overlapping tones that put Obi-Wan in mind of Qui-Gon Jinn and Garen Muln and Bant Eerin and the many, many lights they had lost leading up to this moment.

"What is this?" Sidious snarls, and his lightsabers are back in his fists. "You dare defy me? You should not be able–"

"So speak all Masters. And yet the rain comes anyway." Anakin's lightsaber is not yet lit, and Obi-Wan is beginning to worry. His former Padawan is treading ground that none tread and lived to tell about it, the raw power of his connection to the Force saturates the room, but Sidious has not gotten this far by being foolish, and he is holding both of his weapons–

Two shafts of red spear the dim gloom of the bunker, meet a blue blade moving too fast to see, and Obi-Wan sucks in a breath, tensing to spring.

A wizened hand thrusts back towards him, and Obi-Wan feels the Force move around him, as if he is shielded from the Dark. "Don't move, Kenobi," Sidious snarls.

"I think you'll find that I'm no longer obligated to take your orders, Chancellor," Obi-Wan returns, and summons his saber to his hand.

The shield screeched. "You still risk Padme, you stupid boy. Tell your friends to stay still."

Anakin flickers one hand. The ray shield pulses, sighs, dies. "Padme is safe. Not a pawn between us, Your Excellency, as she never should have been."

Red lightsabers slam against the blue. Sidious is a furious blur of motion as he draws on the Dark, spinning, thrusting, stabbing. Anakin is…

This is beyond Soresu. Beyond any defensive form that Obi-Wan has ever seen. Anakin moves like he knows exactly where Sidious will be any half-second before the Sith Lord is there. The false politician cannot outpace him, cannot surprise him.

Ahsoka is adjusting her blades next to him, fuming under her breath. "Next time, find a different way to turn them off than pulling the crystal halfway out, Skyguy," she mutters. A click, a twist, and two blades surge forth. She smiles.

But there is nowhere for them to intervene. The Force pulses gently, warning them to keep alert but clear of the battle. This is Anakin's fight to command, the Force's chosen vessel fulfilling a prophecy Obi-Wan had not himself fully believed until this instant.

Ahsoka shouts. Anakin has disengaged his lightsaber and catches the Sith's bloody blades barehanded, flesh and metal encased in the Force, holding Sidious' weapons motionless, the two men bathed in crimson light as the Jedi stares down his adversary.

"You have lost, Chancellor," Anakin's voice is still that blend of voices that catch at Obi-Wan's memory. "You shall not have the galaxy, and you shall not have me."

Sidious grins, and his teeth reflect blood in the wash of his blades.

"Shall I not, Anakin?"

Another wrench of the Force and Padme cries out, doubling over, hands on her swollen belly.

"Anakin!" she calls, and her voice is as close to true panic as Obi-Wan has ever heard.

He can feel the suddenly-restless movement of her womb and nausea threatens again. Sidious has Forced her into labor.

Anakin continues to hold his adversary, and Obi-Wan can feel both Anakin's fear and the larger-than-Anakin calm that flows through the Force.

"Get her out of here," he commands calmly. "Take her to the Temple."

"Ahsoka can–"

"Anakin, I'm not leaving–"

"All of you!" Anakin snaps. His gaze has not wavered from the Sith, his hands still gloved in the Force to confine the shrieking lightsabers. "Padme, you can't stay here with him. Vos needs medical attention too. Get them out of here!"

Ahsoka is already next to Padme, arms around the Senator to help her walk and carry her if needed.

"Finish it, Anakin. I promised you would be there for their birth, and you will!"

"Just GO!"

Obi-Wan seizes Quinlan, hoists him over his shoulder and pelts for the door, Ahsoka and Padme on his heels.

Silence descends startlingly quickly in their absence. Sidious's face is still drawn in a pleased snarl.

"Such a shame they won't make it to term," he drawls. "Nine weeks early is quite a danger for human births, no?"

"If you wish to keep talking about my children, I will gladly slice out your tongue," Anakin replies almost conversationally. "You have still failed, Your Excellency."

Pounding feet on the ceiling just overhead. Anakin would recognise those footfalls anywhere. Captain Rex has arrived with a selection of Torrent Company's finest.

Sidious' smile deepens. "Oh my dear boy, I think not. After all…I have already turned your friends against you."

"Execute Order 66."

The ceiling exploded inward.

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