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Chapter Text

It was just one change in Anakin’s stance, a single shift in the ash-filled wind, and then his saber sliced through Obi-Wan’s robe.

His former master seemed to hover midair for a fraction of a second, his face twisted in pain, then gravity decided to start functioning as usual. Kenobi toppled backwards, plummeting headfirst over the molten waterfall.

He didn’t make a sound as he fell, oddly enough. Just silence.

Anakin stood on the pile of flimsy rubble, his chest hammering. Despite the blistering heat of the lava floes beneath him, he felt oddly cold. It took him a couple seconds to fully register what had happened.

He had won. Ob-

Kenobi was defeated. Dead.

It was what he had wanted, and yet…

A wave of sickening grief welled up in his chest and he pushed it away, calling upon the Dark to smother what little remained.

He had won. Kenobi had strutted about condescendingly for years, with his teasing remarks, always acting like he was a better Jedi, a better warrior.

Anakin had fought at his side, called him brother, all while the resentment festered like an open wound.

He gritted his teeth, turning from the blaze.

“Seems the student has become the master,” he muttered.

The words felt heavy on his lips.

Behind him, he heard the marching of many boots. He turned, seeing a small squad of troopers, still bearing the old Republic’s blue emblems. The squad leader picked his way through the rubble towards him.

“Sir, you-you’re alive.”

“You sounded surprised.”

“Apologies, sir. Chancellor Palpatine sent us here with the intent to collect your body.”

Anakin scoffed arrogantly. “Did he really have so little faith in me?” He sighed, extinguishing his saber. The slender blue blade sputtered out with a faint hiss.
“Where is Padme?”

The trooper bowed his head. “She is in critical condition, sir. There was serious trauma to her neck and spine.”

Oh.

Guilt gnawed away at his mind. “Have her transferred to the Republic’s top medical facilities. Spare no expense.”

The troopers nodded. “And the children, Sir?”

Anakin was taken aback briefly, but regained his composure. “Children?”

“The medical droids say they are healthy and in stable condition, sir.” He gestured behind him, back towards the landing pad.

Anakin rushed over, towards the small Lambda-class shuttle docked where the squad leader had directed him.

Inside the ship, two infants lay crying in a medical pod. Next to them, Padme was unconscious, a cluster of medical droids tending to her. There was a sickly pallor to her face, and beneath the bacta bandages, Anakin could see faint bruising around her neck.

The guilt came back tenfold and he averted his eyes, picking up the squalling infants. They settled calmly into his arms, staring up at him with their wide, innocent eyes.

Anakin rubbed a metal finger through the boy child’s peach fuzz, chuckling softly in wonderment.

“Shhh, there you go, I’m here now.” A smile came to his face, unbidden. “It’s going to be alright now. The galaxy, it’s been at war for a long time now, but that’s going to change. I’m going to make it all better.”

One of the children cooed softly. Anakin kissed them gently on their foreheads. “It’s going to be perfect. An Empire without war and strife. All for you, my stars.”

There was a faint cough behind him. Anakin quickly set the children back in their pod, and rushed over to Padme.
“Ana…kin”
“My love. He clasped her hands. “It’s alright. Don’t talk, you’ll only hurt yourself further.”

She flinched away from his touch. “Wha…did…you…do?”

One of the infants began to whimper.

Anakin shook his head. “It’s going to be alright, I swear I’ll explain-“

She struggled to push herself up, her throat rasping. “You. Killed. Them.”

“It was for you, Padme, I did it to save—”

Her breathing grew frantic “No…no..” One of the medical droids began to administer a sedative, but she pushed it away. “You…where’s Obi-wan. Where is he…Anakin where…” Her speech began to slur as the sedative took hold.

Both of the children began to whimper louder.

There was a roaring in his head, as something seethed angrily. He drew his gaze away from her, clenching his fists so tightly he felt his nails break skin. “He attacked me, Padme. I-I defended myself against him, I had to.”

He could feel her eyes burn against the back of his head. “…You’re lying.” Her voice broke. “Anakin plese tell me you didn’t kill him—please tell me you didn’t”

His throat tightened. “I told you, Padme. He betrayed me. Like the rest.”

There was a raspy sob behind him, and he still did not turn. Setting the children back in their pod, he motioned to one of the pilots. “Take us to the medical station, full speed.” He gestured over to Padme’s bed. “You, droid, raise the dosage. She’s distressed.”

The medical droids complied quietly. Anakin turned back towards Padme, watching her drift off to sleep. One of the twins started to squall again and he stroked their cheek.

Padme’s eyes flickered open, unfocused. “Don’t…touch…them.” A tear slowly trickled out of one eye.

Anakin waited the following moments for her to doze off, then planted a kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll fix this, my love. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

The silence was his answer.

Chapter Text

There was the cold touch of a lightsaber hilt brushing his shoulder, then the newly inaugurated Emperor dipped a finger into a dish of ash. He lifted it to Anakin’s forehead, marking it with a smeared print of his withered thumb.

From this close distance, Anakin could see the number that Windu had done on him. Palpatine’s once aged-yet-pleasant features were now knarled and twisted, nearly unrecognizable. Purpled veins ran through his crooked hands like dark lightning.

Palpatine drew back, his broken features splitting in a satisfied grin. “Only two there are. And only two there must be. Rise, my apprentice, baptized in the ash of the fallen Jedi.”

Anakin rose stiffly, his knees dully aching. He had been kneeling for approximately thirty minutes, and he could barely feel his ankles. The old him would have complained, but he had grown since then. Besides, whatever he felt, it could not compare to the pain his Master must feel.

 He took the saber from his Master’s outstretched palm, igniting it. The saber bathed the dim room in a hazy red glow. He could feel the sheer power writhing within the blazing blade, like a chained beast growling for blood. A shiver of vindictive excitement ran through him.

“I had it forged from your old saber. Appropriate, my Apprentice, is it not? The old order is dead, and the new one is still in its infancy.”

Anakin sheathed the seething blade, clipping it to his belt. “Where do we begin, my Master?”

“A new name for you, my boy. Take it as a title of sorts. In the old days, during the height of their power, newly chosen Sith would take on new names, abandoning their old ones. It is said that they considered their old identities dead, as was tradition.”

Faint dread rose up, flanked by a myriad doubts. Anakin pushed them down. “Then what is my new name, Master?”

Palpatine wrapped his robe around his bent frame, tucking his arms behind his back. “Vader, I dub thee.” He chuckled lightly. “It felt appropriate. You will serve as my sword to bring the galaxy to heel, my shield to defend it from infestation, and my right hand to rule it.”

Vader bowed. The saber felt heavy on his belt, and there was a crick in the back of his neck. Still he knelt, then rose up again.

“I thank you, my Master. I shall bear this name with reverence.”

“Mama, what’s the story of my name? The other children have stories about theirs,” Anakin brushed his blonde hair out of his eyes.

Shmi smiled in that gentle, sad way of hers. “It’s not a funny tale, or a happy one my child.”

“Then why did you choose it?” He sidled up to her, bringing his stool next to hers.

His mother closed her eyes, and began to hum softly, in the way one would before telling a story, in accordance with Tattoinei slave traditions.

“Listen, and hear my words, for I may not live to tell them twice.”

This was a customary phrase used to open stories, but Anakin always felt uncomfortable when his mother used it. As a very little child, he would ask the Mother Krayt that she would live forever. It was a silly thing, to pray to a dragon, but in a planet bereft of proper gods, the slaves of the sand made do.

“There once was a warrior, faster than the sandstorm winds and fiercer than a bull krayt. He was born in the Jundland Wastes, far from the slavers and their chains. He had never known a mother, nor father, but instead the Mother Krayt herself raised him among her spawn. She fed him on wild bantha meat, and taught him how to survive even in the hottest and driest places of the Wastes. She did not need to speak to him, you see, for he was born with an ancient power, that granted him a connection to all living things.

Mother Krayt did not name him, as Krayts and other beasts do not name each other. In her mind, she called him her child, and that was enough for him.

As he grew in power, he explored the whole of the Wastes, sparring with the Sand People and hunting womp rats in the canyons. He found himself curious of how the humans and alienfolk lived, for he wished to be around others like him.

The warrior asked Mother Krayt if he could leave to visit the humans, but she roared in anger at his request. “The humans are a wicked folk, my child. They harm each other for profit, and sell younglings and mothers as property. Stay with me, in the Wastes, where you will not be tainted by their evil.”

But the warrior begged and pleaded, and finally Mother Krayt realized that she could not sway him. “You are stubborn, as is your kind. Very well. Go, and see your people. Free them, if you can.”

So the boy left his mother’s great cave, and set off to the city. But that is where I will leave us, because you need a proper night’s rest.”

Anakin muffled a yawn. “I can stay up, please?”

“I will finish the tale tomorrow. To bed with you, little one.”

Anakin crawled into his bed, and pulled the tattered blanket over his head. “’Night mom.”

“Goodnight, dear one.”