Can You Love Me Again?

Chapter 18- Stability

So guys, this one is super long and good! My way of telling you all I'm sorry for the long break lol. Anyway, let's continue.

"Adjust your right foot Luke." Anakin critiqued, slowly circling his son, observing every movement with a watchful glare, all his novice skills and faults were obvious to Anakin, but he was quite proud of Luke's rapid growth in the ancient art of the Jedi.

Luke grumbled, opening his frustrated blue eyes, dropping his guard for a moment to whine. His father was bringing a magnify glass to his every flaw and zooming in on each. Why was he pushing so hard? This was just for some fun between father and son... or... that's what he thought.

"Dad, It's like a millimeter off, what's the big deal?"

Anakin paced, hands clasped behind his back as he strode long, slow strides around his son, suppressing a sigh as he stopped. He knew one day the sith would be back. He had failed his duty as the chosen one, he had given into temptation, sweet despicable temptation. And now that the forces chosen one had ruined everything, and the destiny was passed down to his offspring. The new hope, which was to fix what was wrong in the empires rule.

And Anakin knew, it was his duty to train him.

As Luke kept yapping, Anakin was struck with condemnation, he watched in slow motion as his son dropped his arms, therefore his guard and focus.

Fatal.

It was then and there he decided to teach the impatient teenager why perfect footing and stance was so crucial in the only way he knew how.

Through example.

Anakin lept in Luke's personal bubble so fast, Luke had no time to decipher what in nine hells was going on. He turned, planting his heel to the back of Luke's knee, making the stance crumble. He chuckled in spite (all in good nature) at how similar he was to himself in the arrogance department. And whiny also. He reached immediately for Luke's elbow and hauled it back, snatching the boys own weapon from him easily as he dropped into a defensive stance over the confused blonde.

It was nearly instantaneous. One moment, Luke was complaining about how this should be educational and not so rigorous, staring into his fathers steel eyes as he did so, then the next, his blade was instantly plucked from his grasp and he was flat on his back staring up at the ceiling lights. This time, accompanied by the scolding emerald lightsaber inches from his throat. Luke winced at the slight pain of having his knee forced and at the intense heat as he looked up, into the same steel orbs. stunned.

Luke blinked, squinting at the florescent lighting of an old abandoned shack nearby the Naberrie house. It took him a few seconds, but he eventually forced his dazed eyes to look up at his father, who he quickly realized was the wielder of his forest weapon, and attacker of his own son. Anakin stood above him in an offensive back stance, arm outstretched as he held the blade inches from Luke's adams apple, a serious expression on the middle-aged mans face.

That is until Luke regained awareness.

Anakin smirked, a small, amused scoff escaped him. Blue eyes glistening with mischievous light. "And that, my son, is why proper footwork is everything." He deactivated the green glow and held out a gloved hand to help Luke back upright.

Anakin leisurely tossed the blade up once for show, before catching it crisply. "Best 2/3?" Anakin offered, unable to wipe the smirk off his features yet.

Luke groaned and dusted off his black, Jedi robes that his uncle got him for his birthday, snorting less than humorously as he Plucked his weapon from his fathers mechanical hand. He never did tell him how that happened. Maybe someday soon he would.