IMAGE

Tsum-Tsum T-shirt, by Disney
WALLPAPER

Untitled
by Grant Gould (for StarWars.com)

FAN ART
by master--burglar
by master--burglar
FAN FICTION
Rush
by Love and Rock Music. (TCW) The first half of "Destroy Malevolence," as Anakin and Padmé make their way towards each other.

P/A SITE
The Anakin and Padmé Gallery

CALENDAR
Desktop Calendar // March/April 2015

 

FAN FICTION

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The Thread

by chopsticks

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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or anything affiliated with it. It is owned by George Lucas. No infringement is intended and no profit is being made.

Timeline: Somewhere about A New Hope. It's not really definitive.
Author's Note: A non-stylized bit of fic. Surprise! Yes, I can write like a normal person. (Doesn't mean I like to, though!) Umm, bonus points to anyone that can point out the mythology I reference (It's damn easy.). Concrit is lovely, dear reader.

Summary: Today he knew that his son had survived.

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He stared out the window, the bleak darkness of space a cold comfort to him. Any other time he would have claimed that space was empty and lonely, filled with memories he couldn't afford to remember. Today, though, was not like the other times. Today he knew a truth - or, as he secretly suspected, a fraction of it - that made the loneliness go away.

Today he knew that his son had survived.

A child that he hadn't known still existed until this point carried on the Skywalker name. It was a good name, one he could no longer bear himself. Briefly, he wondered what she would think of him now, but pushed the thought from his mind. She had been dead well over twenty years, and there was nothing he could do to raise her from her desert grave. He returned his thoughts to the young man, the grandchild she never knew, the child he never knew.

Somehow, the existence of the boy had been kept from him. Had he been able to, he would have shuddered at the thought of the Rebel Alliance being so well organized at the time of the boy's birth.

The boy's birth itself was a mystery to him. All these years he had been led to believe that he had killed her back on Mustafar. She had not given birth at that point. How, then, was this child of theirs born?

Earlier, he had considered that the child simply wasn't his, and therefore not hers. Alas, he could not deny the truth revealed in the holograms: young Luke Skywalker looked remarkably like Anakin Skywalker at that age. The question of parentage was answered.

That left only one option: she had survived. She may still be alive. The last twenty years of his life may have been one seamless lie spun by the Rebel Alliance. If there were still Jedi in existence (and he knew there were, for he had seen Obi-Wan Kenobi with his own red vision), they could easily mask her presence in the Force.

His wife, whose supposed death had fractured his mind into two beings, may not be dead. For the first time in many years, he felt the thread of hope winding its way into him.

Perhaps, after all this time, he could have the family he craved (and mourned for). They could overthrow the Emperor and claim that which was rightfully theirs.

If she was alive. The dream from so long ago appeared in his mind with blinding clarity. Had he been able to, he would have wept at the images that invaded his mind. The certain knowledge that she was dead rocked through him. She had died as he had predicted, and it was still because of him.

Had he been able to, he would have sobbed in agony. Instead, he felt the power of the Force spin out from him, and the room was left in rubble.

The thread of hope was cut, and the life attached began the descent to the world beyond and below.

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the end.

feedback welcomed at spacedoutwriter (at) hotmail (dot) com.

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