Dark Legacy

Chapter 20 - Tatooine

The Zygerrian struggles, trying to draw in air past the chokehold. Dropping him to the ground, Anakin lets lightning crackle from his left hand into the prone figure. It's almost like when he attacked Sidious so long ago, but worse, because he's actively aware of what he's doing. And he's enjoying every second of it all the more. This is justice, but it's also revenge. He stops the assault after a minute, moving closer until the slaver is lying helplessly at his feet.

"How does it feel to be helpless and afraid?" Anakin asks coldly, uncaring that he sounds like Vader, the Vader of his visions. He wants this Zygerrian to suffer the way she did, but he's better than that now. He knows that stooping to the slaver's level and torturing him to death won't help.

"I've... done... nothing," the Zygerrian protests weakly, obviously struggling to cope with the pain of being electrocuted.

Anakin scoffs, not that anyone can see with his helmet on. "Consider this a mercy," he declares darkly, stabbing his gold blade through the slaver's chest, just below his heart so he doesn't die immediately. He turns and stalks away, stopping when he sees the place he's always tried to avoid. It was right there...

"What was that all about?" questions Obi-Wan as he approaches, Ahsoka next to him. Anakin can feel their concern through the Force, and he suddenly wants to tell them. It's a story he's never once shared, but maybe now is the time.

"Mom always tried to shield me from the worst parts of being a slave," he tells them quietly.

Ahsoka frowns slightly, and Anakin abruptly recalls that, even though they've been Sith for a time, he's never mentioned this part of his past to her. It's something he's always thought best to leave alone.

"When I was a child, my mother and I were sold into slavery by the Hutts," he explains tonelessly, as if he's talking about something which has extraordinarily little importance.

His left hand clenches into a fist as he's unable to look away from that seemingly innocent patch of sand. Ahsoka's muted horror echoes into the Force, but she doesn't say anything, exchanging a look with Obi-Wan as they wait in silence for him to keep talking. "She tried to protect me, but she didn't always succeed."

"What happened?" Obi-Wan queries gently.

"There was a girl... my best friend aside from Kitster," he explains slowly, haltingly. It's far harder than he'd thought it might be to tell them. "She was like a sister almost." He pauses, inhaling as he tries to continue. He has to let this go. "Ashla was a Togruta, who was kidnapped and sold into slavery when she was so young that she barely even remembered her name. I never knew her last name because she'd forgotten." It hurts so much to think of her, to think of how much like Ahsoka she was.

It takes a moment for him to compose himself. It happened so long ago that he hardly knows why it still affects him so strongly. Perhaps because that's when he truly began to lose his innocence, whatever he had left that is. "Ahsoka actually reminded me a lot of her at first," he admits. "When I was eight and she was seven, his father –" he gestures to the now dead Zygerrian, "– was upset and locked her outside during a sandstorm. She died. I found her in the morning."

He blinks, forcing away tears as he finally turns away from the spot where he'd found Ashla's body. Her death was senseless, pointless. Maybe it was because of her that he first vowed to someday destroy slavery everywhere regardless of the cost. Because of Ashla, he'd sworn to free as many of his fellow slaves as he could without being caught. It was something they'd begun together, and he'd promised to finish what she started.

"It's one of the reasons why I hate sand," he confesses, exhaling harshly. "It reminds me of what she went through, how she must have felt in her final moments, dying alone with nothing around her but sand." He shudders visibly, extinguishing the blade of his lightsaber and hooking the hilt back onto his belt.

Something like understanding echoes through his bond with Ahsoka. "That's why you said that to me when we were returning Rotta," she realizes.

The desert is merciless. It takes everything from you. He'd been thinking about Ashla then, because Ahsoka had been with him, because he knew how easily she would die out there if a sandstorm caught them unawares.

"I'm sorry," Ahsoka murmurs finally, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly, even though he's wearing his armor. "I'm glad you were able to avenge her."

Anakin sighs, squeezing her in an embrace. "Me too," he agrees. "Even now, I suppose her memory lives on. It's why I'm here now."

"Then let's do her justice," Obi-Wan suggests, "And finish this operation to free Tatooine."

"Yes," Anakin decides, letting go of Ahsoka and turning like a hunter stalking its prey. "Let's."

By the time the suns are getting low in the sky, it's over. Mos Espa is free. Anakin can hardly believe it, and he pulls off his armor, leaving it behind with the clones as he goes to mingle with his people. This is where he grew up. This is the place that shaped him whether for better or worse. As much as he hates Tatooine, there's a certain familiarity and comfort here that he can't find anywhere else. Here, he can be who he truly is without needing to hide behind a mask.

The slaves are roaming around, seeming incredulous and apprehensive at the sudden change in their fortunes. It makes Anakin's heart hurt to see it because he knows what it's like for them. He knows how hard it will be for them to adjust to a life of freedom when all they've known is slavery. But they're together here, and they can heal now. They can rebuild their lives; they can make something new, something better.

As he mingles among the freed slaves, he finds himself slipping more and more back into the languages of his childhood, speaking to the others in a mixture of Huttese and the secret slave language, Amatakka. He drops the accent he'd forced himself to learn at the Temple, speaking again in the Outer Rim accent he grew up with. Only now does he feel at peace, the Force rushing within him, filling him with an incredible power that he doesn't think he'll ever fully understand. He is, at heart, a child of the desert, for all that he hates it.

This is his home. It always will be.

It feels like everyone wants to talk to him, only him, not anyone else. Now that he's free of his armor, they recognize him, or some of them do. They recognize his accent though, the way he speaks and talks and carries himself. They recognize a mirror image of themselves within him, and he doesn't mind. He... likes feeling understood by people who have been through the same horrors as him. The pain of his past seems distant and untouchable here in a way it never has before. He saw things, endured things that no child should have. But so have they.

The former slaves all want to talk to him, to thank him for coming back. They want to hear more about him, about his life, about... everything. It's strange, to have this honest curiosity from complete strangers, but it's not unwelcome either. That's strange in and of itself because Anakin has never liked talking about himself. Except it's different this time. These people will understand him in a way that Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Padme, Dooku, Rex, and the others never will. Anakin was forged by the twin suns of Tatooine.

He sits himself in the middle of a group of former slaves, most of whom are children, and he tells them stories, switching between Huttese, Amatakka, and Basic, weaving tales that he heard in his own childhood with stories of his life. He doesn't lay down until very late, not having seen any of his new family for hours, but he knows they're safe, so it doesn't concern him.

The people around him now may be strangers, but he can trust them. For what feels like the first time in his life, Anakin is truly at peace.

Final Notes: If you want to join our Discord to receive updates or just hang out, here's the invite link, and please delete the spaces! :) discord . gg / nqSxuz2

We also have a tumblr account (and delete the spaces): fanfictasia . tumblr . com

And! We have a YT channel for tributes! Please delete the spaces in the link. :D youtube . com / channel / UC_g1M5rSCxJUzQCRS29B6pA

Finally, if you're interested, you can submit a SW gift fic request via the following form (delete the spaces): forms . gle / rmXWtRomMMaULuPa6