sun of the son | STAR WARS: THE CLONE WARS

chapter one

"It's an old tale from way back when

and we're gonna sing it again and again"

- Road to Hell (Reprise), Hadestown

Through the Force, everything is connected. It is through this connection that Luke Skywalker is undone and made anew.

War was nothing more than the death of those in power viewed as lesser. It was a politician's hand moving the piece on the chess board, watching in boredom as the pawns died needlessly to secure a brutal victory. People who instigate war rarely see the horror of their actions; even fewer consider it horrifying.

These thoughts raced in Master Plo Koon's head as he watched his troopers gathering their brothers from the rubble, heart aching with grief. It was a well-oiled practice, the steps as easy as breathing to them. Losing brothers was a daily occurrence for them, a constant discomfort they had to tolerate for the greater good.

(Sometimes, when he is alone, Plo Koon wonders if that's true. Questions whether this war is worth it if it results in thousands of lost lives every day. What would be left after this war had been fought?

These questions are loudest when he sees the padawan on the field and hurt, especially if it is one he recruited. He had promised the life of a peacekeeper, but instead, they were made into soldiers—child soldiers, old enough to be padawans but still younglings.

Sometimes, the guilt and regret are too big for him to let go of.)

Plo-Koon walked a steady rhythm through the destruction, extending his senses further, searching for life when he knew there was none. Except, he stopped, curiosity piqued at the sudden excitement vibrating through the Force.

And then, a supernova.

The Force swirled, a vicious wind that had all Plo-Koon's troopers running for cover as the strength increased, debris flying with its path. He stood in the chaos, assured that the Force wouldn't hurt him, and squinted as a bright light shone behind the wind currents. It resembled a sun, no, a sunrise; specifically, the one Plo-Koon ached to see after every dark night he spent fighting. To one without Force sight, it was a natural attack, but to Plo-Koon, it sent a feeling of hope surging through him, an unnatural warmth he wanted to burrow himself in.

It lasted only a minute and died down as quickly as it came.

"Oh," Plo-Koon said softly when he saw what was in the middle of it.

There was guilt, and there was regret because he knew what Council would do, but it didn't stop him from contacting them, unknowingly beginning an old story differently.

I am eight and small, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. My skin has been bronzed from the Twins Suns that glare from the sky, yet I shiver at night when the moon rises.

I am angry.

I don't know why or at who, but I am. My chest heaves and my lungs burn as tears trail down my cheeks, itching all the way to my chin. Everything is too much.

The adult voices are too loud. Their feelings are too close.

I want it to stop.

"Go away!" I scream.