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Thalia does good on her promise and brings Anakin and Shmi home by sunrise. The Lars' are waiting outside. Cliegg looks grave, as if he was the one carrying his wife's corpse, and not her own son. Owen sheds a few tears that Thalia can't bring herself to feel sorry for. They are to blame for what happened to Anakin last night. They sent him on this quest for revenge, and she would not honor them.
But she would honor Shmi Skywalker.
She had never met the woman, and it was hard to view her as more than her mother because she'd only known her through Anakin, but she could tell from how long she survived in the camp that she had been strong. She deserved a warrior's burial. Thalia, Queen of Pelides, would give her one. She had done it before.
Her body is wrapped in cold cloths, as cold as it can be in the desert, as Anakin sits opposite Thalia in a different room. She won't let him in. She doesn't want him to see his mother in that state again; bloodied, impossibly broken.
"I am sorry." Anakin's trembling voice snaps Thalia back to reality. "About last night. I wasn't thinking clearly."
She nods. "I know."
"I didn't want you to see that," he goes on.
"I know," she repeats. "You asked me to stay back."
"I'm glad you didn't."
Thalia doesn't want to know how far he would've gone if she hadn't been there. She'd love to pretend that he would have turned back, but she isn't so sure. Hatred burned in him that night, and even now, she can smell the charring of his soul.
"I think..." he goes on, hesitant to cross a line. "I think you're good for me."
She doesn't say anything, but she smiles, and Anakin's content. She doesn't mind being the keeper of his heart, just as he is the one who sets her free. For a little while still, they are children racing each other to the sun, unaware of the cliff that would come.
"Did your mother have a religion?" she asks, gathering the sponge and bucket she would need to wash the body. "Any prayers she would like said?"
