SUN DRAGON ━━ Star Wars

i. karma police.

i. ━━ karma police.

the negotiator,
somewhere in hyperspace.

WHEN THEY WERE KIDS, there was a story that Anakin used to tell Rory all the time.

It talked about a brother, a sister, and the sun dragons of Tatooine. Long, long ago, before Anakin, before their Master, before their Master's Master, sun dragons roamed the dunes. Some versions of the story say that the boy slayed the dragons. Others claim he tamed them. It's an old story. A sad story.

A story whispered between slave children late at night, when they were meant to be asleep. Something they'd tell one another as they waited for the brother and the sister and the sun dragons to come free them. A story they'd all forget by the time they were grown. There was no brother. There was no sister. There were no sun dragons. Only Tatooine, a planet of scorching suns, scorching sands, and vile, vile slave masters.

One thing never changed, though. The sister always died.

Sometimes she was burnt out by the sun dragon's fires. Another time, she'd fallen off the back of a dragon, protecting her brother. Once, her brother had sacrificed her to the sun dragon's in his own quest for power.

The sister always died.

That was just how the story went. Every time Rory heard it, she'd hope the ending would be different. Maybe this time the sister wouldn't be doomed by the narrative. Maybe this time she would have a different, happier ending.

She never did.

Still. Rory listened every time Anakin told the story. There was something about the way her older brother's voice hugged each syllable, proclaimed them to the galaxy, catching in the back of his throat, that made her own throat tight. Making it hard to move. Hard to swallow.

But that was a long time ago. Before the Jedi. Before the war.

They have no time for stories now.

Anakin swings his fist at her face and Rory throws her weight into a backbend, narrowly escaping the strike. Somehow she manages to keep her balance on the training mat, but she wobbles all the same.

"You need to be better." Anakin backs off as she tries to steady herself. "A Sith won't wait for you to get back up."

"What's your problem?" Rory retorts, breathing heavily. She drags sweaty strands of hair from her forehead and pushes them behind her ear. "Obi-Wan is happy with my progress. I got record scores on all the tests at the Temple."

"Exactly. The tests are too easy."

Battle cries echo around them. To their left, Longshot and Trapper circle each other, preparing for another round, and behind Anakin, Commander Cody is doing his best to coach the shinies they'd gained since the last siege. The Clone Wars have spread like wildfire through the galaxy. Free time is harder to come by, and everyone bitches and moans when there isn't any. The only problem is as soon as anyone's got a moment to actually breathe, nobody's got any idea of how to occupy their free time.

Fighting is all they know how to do.

That means the training gym is always stuffed to capacity. Clone Troopers are packed together at the shooting ranges. Mats are overcrowded with soldiers that have the same thought as the Skywalker's, which is It's better to get the shit beat out of you than deal with thinking.

"You're not my Master." Rory twists out of his reach then darts forward, nailing him in the kneecaps. "You don't get to boss me around."

Anakin smirks, then lunges for her. His leg catches her in the knee and then he elbows her in the gut. Rory's head is pounding and she feels a little dizzy. Her energy flags. She's not used to fighting someone as strong as Anakin, and it's hard to maneuver. Sweat drips down her forehead and stings her eyes. He catches her again and this time, she can't stay upright. Blood and humiliation salt her mouth as she's thrust face-down onto the worn mat.