Thalia rushes back inside, despite her previous conversation with the Lars'. She has no qualms in asking something from them after they so callously and inadvertently sent Anakin on a manhunt. She is past asking for their permission too.
Owen's face is bright red when he sees her, apparently shocked that she'd even dare to turn back. "How dare you–"
She holds up a hand. "I'm not here to talk to you. Threepio?"
The droid shyly steps out of the dark, the light behind his eyes blinking at her. "Yes, your Highness?"
Owen goes from red to white. He recognizes the Pelidians from the pictures at the bar. The engraved markings on her skin. His stupidity that knows no bounds. "You're not..."
"I'm afraid I am," she answers absent-mindedly, focused on the robot. "Threepio, I need you to provide a holo-map to the Tusken Raiders home. Quickly, please."
The droid gestures awkwardly, nodding. "Oh, of course, your Highness! It will be done in no time. Well, in some time, considering I first have to find an empty holo-map, and then triangulate–"
"Just do it, please."
Threepio leaves, and Owen is suddenly crowding her field of view, his father nowhere to be seen, Beru staring at her with wide, shocked eyes.
"If I had known..."
"Yes, I'd rather think you would have been more courteous."
Thalia doesn't have the time to deal with any of it – not the pretense of suddenly respecting her, of suddenly listening and acknowledging her now that a title is attached to her name, not the way he suddenly cares for her well-being. She had seen the way they dismissed Beru entirely even if she was part of their family; Thalia would have no empathy for them, whatsoever. They were slave owners in more ways than one.
Owen is relentless in trying to uphold his image of a decent man now that the girl was revealed to be a Queen, and didn't know how to take a hint.
"Your Highness, you can't possibly think of following Anakin..." Thalia turns to him sharply, and he shrinks under her glare. "I'm sure he knows how to handle himself."
"How would you know? You've seen him for all of five minutes, and weren't even smart enough to notice royalty sitting at your own table," she easily counters. "Anakin is capable of handling it himself, that does not mean that he should. Considering how you treat the woman you love, I doubt you'd understand that."
Threepio comes back, and Thalia follows him outside the house, not caring for Owen's response. The droid hands her a holo-map. "This will lead you to the Tuskens' lair," he promises. "Please, be careful, your Highness."
Thalia nods, taking the small pad. "I promise. Thank you, Threepio."
The droid, for all his steel face, seems anxious. "Oh, I cannot believe that I am enabling you with this!"
"It is much appreciated."
Thalia is already halfway to her ship, which, if Anakin had forgotten, she had not, had a speeder.
Owen comes barreling in front of her ship, arms extended, out of breath. Thalia stops, and considers him. Surely he is of no relation to Anakin; the Padawan was, at the very least, intelligent enough.
"I cannot let you do this, your Majesty."
All things considered, both seemed to think that Thalia needed to be coddled. Thalia was tired, she was hot, this desert planet had sucked the life out of her, and if the crown on her head had turned her into a human being in his eyes, the flimsy green dress she wore deprives her of strength.
"I do not know how long you have known Anakin for–"
"Three weeks."
"Surely your life isn't worth a three week love affair."
Thalia clenches her jaw so hard she's sure her teeth shatter. That's it, isn't it? Just like Shadril – she has to be doing this, she has to be helping or be distracted, or be hurt because of a boy, because of her feelings.
Steel glints in the sun. Before Owen can register what's happened, a Beskaar sword is pressing against his throat. Thalia frowns at him, red hair flowing in the scalding wind, regal chin turned up.
"I am doing this because it is the right thing to do. You are not letting me do it," she reminds him. "I am leaving. With, or without your left hand."
She doesn't know the Tusken Raiders, but she knows Anakin. She knows he is a skilled fighter, and that rescuing his mother would be an easy feat for him, it would be for any Jedi, she gathers. Therein lies the problem. It'd be too easy – too easy for him to lose himself. There had been something in his eyes, smoke billowing from afar, that Thalia would be a fool to ignore. He was temperamental, angry, in ways that Jedi aren't allowed to be. Ways that could lead him to the Darkside, if no one was there to stop him.
There is no doubt in her mind that this is what she has to do. He had told her the paths that led to the Darkside, and she would be the obstacle in his course. This was, after all, her fault. Wasn't it? She's the one who lets him entertain feelings he shouldn't have. Maybe if she hadn't, he would have had enough restraint to go against whatever she knew he was doing. This is on her head, a thorny crown of guilt.
But he would listen to her, this, she doesn't doubt it either. Whatever relationship had been built over the last few weeks had proven this to her. He would come when she calls. Just as she follows where he goes.
Just like there is no doubt that Thalia would go far to save Anakin from himself. She would travel the universe twice to make sure he was safe, a third time to ease her mind. Search from the suns of Tatooine to the moons of Pelides, the forests and the deserts, the sand and the snowquills.
If Owen was mistaken and feelings weren't her motivations, there was no denying that they weren't there. Anakin was, after all, second only to her planet, not that she would ever tell herself that. A much sweeter kind of duty bound her to him. There will come a time of betrayal and moonless skies, when limits to that devotion will be questioned. When Thalia will be asked; how far will you go? Which love will be sacrificed? Which duty will be your tomb?
For now, Thalia pushes Owen away, his knees hitting the coarse sand roughly. She walks inside her ship, and spares him a last, solemn glance. "Let it be known that you tried," she tells him, as if it was any solace. "I will be back with Anakin and Shmi before morning comes."
Night has fallen by the time Thalia reaches the Tusken Raiders' camp. The bigger sun of Tatooine has imbued the desert of its last red hues, and if her eyes weren't accustomed to the nights of Pelides, she wouldn't know where she was stepping.
It was quiet, too. Too quiet for whatever Anakin had planned. She should be hearing some commotion, something to tell her that she isn't too late, or too early. She's light of her feet, side-stepping through the camp easily. The tents are close to the others, making it hard. There are some sort of scaly, four-legged creatures gnawing on a bone by the fire, fighting for dominance. The camp is asleep – that's why it is so silent.
Her ear twitches at the sound of raspy breaths coming from the outskirts of camp. Guards, probably. She closes her eyes and focuses on the sounds around her. Anakin, for all his grace, cannot be so silent.
There's a sharp sound, air being sliced. The slash of a lightsaber. The raspy breaths stop. Warriors flock to the light like moths – as does Thalia, even if she already knows who it is. Anakin steps out of a tent, kills two warriors. More Raiders come to him, shooting lasers that he easily deflects. A single half-circle cripples two and kills the other ones. The injured, who cannot defend themselves anymore, are quick to follow.
From where Thalia is rushing, Anakin can't see her, but her vision has never been so clear. His mother is dead, this, she is sure of. The rest of the camp are all soaked with her blood. It doesn't matter if they were the ones to kill her or not, they are all guilty. The blood that sizzles against the blue lightsaber makes it shine red, for half a second, nothing more. Thalia's ears droop, a loud buzzing filling the air – from the weapon, maybe, but she isn't so sure.
Whatever they call the Force, the Balance that the Great Moon brings... it's tipping. Barely a balance at all. The universe is on the verge of a precipice, and if she had pitied Anakin for thinking he was the Chosen One, she hadn't believed him all that much, but she could feel it. The Scales aren't even. A tether at the end of his lightsaber is linking it to the core of the universe. Every slash brings it closer to the edge.
Anakin raises his lightsaber over his head. A child looks up at him, their spiked head trembling in fear, for he had just killed his father. The universe dangles on its thread. Anakin brings his weapon down.
It clunks loudly against Thalia's blade. The blue light from the saber ignites their faces, casts shadows over the creases and dips. Thalia's hazel eyes seem lit from inside, the very picture of righteous duty as she holds her weapon with one hand, staring into Anakin's soul. His dark blue eyes are cast down, looking through her as if he doesn't recognize her. Both of his hands are holding his weapon, and she can feel him try to force it down as the child runs. She doesn't budge.
"It's enough, Anakin," she says, voice ringing over the screams of the Raiders, running away until they are the only ones left in the camp. There are no more fathers to protect them.
Anakin blinks, but it's not enough to force him back into reality. He isn't a Jedi. He isn't a savior, he isn't a martyr, he is an executioner. And he would fill his duty.
He is a child who lost his mother. His eyes are red with tears when they finally flick to hers. "Why'd she have to die?" he cries out. His chin wobbles, only proof of his emotions through his mask of hatred. "Why couldn't I save her? I know I could have!"
His grip on his weapon doesn't falter, and neither does hers, despite the softness of her words, the caress of her empathy. She knows this feeling of guilt that seizes you out of the blue when you lose someone. She has befriended it after Aurae's death.
"You can't save everyone," she tells him. "It's okay to be fallible. You are not a god."
"Well, I should be!" It's the plea of a child who lost everything. "Someday I will be. I will be the most powerful Jedi ever!" His eyes bore the weight of the shadows in his soul. His oath is blood-soaked, but truthful. "I promise you. I will even learn to stop people from dying."
Thalia's second hand joins at the end of her sword. His hatred is weighing her down, tiring her out. "Anakin, let go of this before it's too late."
He scoffs, the heat of the lightsaber making sweat bead at the edge of his hair. "It's all Obi-Wan's fault! He's jealous. He's holding me back!"
Anger washes over him anew, and his lightsaber traces a wide arc that Thalia pushes back, with such force that sends him stumbling, blinking things back into perspective if only for a moment.
"What are you saying? This is not who you've shown me," she says faintly, because it is the truth. "You're a Jedi. You should not crave power, and this–" She extends her arm, weapon whistling in the air as she gestures for the deserted camp around them. "–this isn't power. This is death. This is murder."
"I..." Anakin's face scrunches up in a grimace of pain. Tears roll down his cheeks. "They're like animals, and I should slaughter them like animals! I hate them!"
"Do it," she challenges, chin held high. "Murder in anger. Slaughter for grief. Tell me their blood quenches your hurt. Tell me how your hatred makes them cattle. How it justifies massacre. Go through me. Hunt them down, and kill them all. Would you do it?"
Another moment of clarity seizes him, and he realizes that Thalia is holding him at swordpoint, ready to strike if he makes a wrong move. He is the enemy. She is the Righteous. Maybe this is how it would always end.
"Would you do it?" she repeats, and her voice holds less regal authority, and more vulnerability, but she will not cry. "Because I will not let you." A plea. Do not make me.
He draws his lightsaber back, but she doesn't put her Beskaar sword away. The other one is cinched tightly to her hip. They burn against her skin, the sin of using it against him.
"I cannot," he cries, sinking to his knees. Hope is as searing as her fear.
Thalia heaves out a sigh, sheathing her blade. It's over. She called, and he came back to her. The monster that held his skin a moment prior has receded. For how long, she doesn't know, and she won't ask, too relieved to have Anakin back.
She shuts her eyes tightly, the force of her consolation going through her. She settles down next to him, in the middle of the carcasses he put there, and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Guilt burns her stomach. If she hadn't... If she had... There are too many reasons contradicting and validating each other for her to think clearly, but this thought is clear; Anakin would have had the force to resist, had she not waned his restraint by enabling his desire for her.
She doesn't agree with the Jedi doctrines. She fears it is that restraint being taken away after forcing feelings down for so long that leads to the Darkside. Too much pressure, and a dam breaking. But she is the one who took it away, and for this, she had to pay someday.
"I'm sorry," she tells him softly. "I shouldn't have let you... This is my fault."
Anakin shakes his head, and blinks up at her, confused. "I'm a Jedi. I know I'm better than this."
Thalia can see him try to add something, but his face suddenly scrunches up in agony, sobs bubbling in his throat. "You don't have to be," she promises. "Not right now. Not with me."
This is a never ending story. Thalia will always try to comfort Anakin's grief. Thalia will always break the dam.
She runs her thumbs under his eyes, and puts a hand on his neck to bring her close to her, holding him tightly to bring him comfort. His head finds the crook of her neck, and she feels his tears against her skin, the shake of his shoulders as he cries.
He just lost his mother. He should not have to deal with all of it entailed for a Jedi to feel such grief. He should not be ashamed to feel it, he should not have to bottle it up until it explodes, until he isn't himself anymore, but the man who killed this camp's protectors. They were slave owners, they raided villages, and Thalia has no compassion for them. But she wouldn't let them taint Anakin, as long as she stood.
If what Anakin did was unforgivable, she would spend her lifetime finding reasons to pardon him. It was in her nature. She would right his wrongs. Be his moral compass when he lost it. Let him hold the weight of being the Chosen One, she would carry his mistakes as if it was hers. The weight of two worlds on her shoulders; him, and her planet. There was no other way to be.
As long as she was alive, as long as Thalia Amra Ashtaroth the Righteous was breathing, his soul would remain light.
Author's Note: I apologize for a wordier update than usual but damn this is certain going to end in some way!!! And yes I've changed Sienides' name to Pelides because!! My thesis is about the Iliad and Patroclus and Achilles and Briseis so like how could I not? Thanks <3