CW: Violence
This chapter is based on Attack of the Clones Anakin. He was emotionally volatile and incredibly violent due to his hatred. As such, I tried to communicate that in my writing. Please be cautious if you are triggered by descriptions of violence.
Thank you for reading. <3
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The twin suns had long set, enveloping the sand dunes in darkness. Despite the absence of the daylight, the desert remained sweltering. It was the hottest season of the year, and even at nightfall, the acrid air seemed to burn the Empress's lungs.
(Y/N) sat in the Lars' home, along with Anakin's men - Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and a handful of troopers she was unfamiliar with. A thin sheen of sweat coated her upper chest and collar bones, and stray hair was beginning to stick to her neck. Attempting to get some relief from the heat, she pressed her back to the cool sandstone wall, sapping it of its chilled surface.
They had been waiting on Anakin's return for hours now, with little to do in the meantime. Having no method with which to communicate with him, the party was unsure of how much longer his search and rescue would take.
The environment was silent, save for the shuffling of feet or hushed voices conversing in the back. Occasionally, a loud cry would sound in the distance, causing goosebumps to grow on the woman's exposed arms.
"You know, I'm beginning to feel forgotten about," a gentle voice teased.
The Empress turned her head to the side, her eyes meeting the warm brown ones of her handmaiden and closest friend.
"Padme!" (Y/N) gasped in fake shock. "When did you get here?!"
"Ha-ha. Very funny, Your Highness," Padme rolled her eyes with a grin.
(Y/N) reached over and clasped the brunette's hands in one of her own.
"I'm so happy to have you with me," she said earnestly. "I know we haven't gotten to spend as much time together as usual, but your presence has made my transition to Empress that much easier."
Padme gave a wide smile in return.
"That's what I'm here for."
The two leaned into each other, touching shoulders as the handmaid sighed.
"Empress, you must be getting uncomfortable," Obi-Wan spoke up. "Let one of us take you to the accommodations prepared in the settlement."
(Y/N) held up her hand in firm decline.
"Thank you, Obi-Wan, but I'm quite alright where I am. If this is Empirical business, I must stay."
The general hesitantly accepted her answer, flashing a look of concern at his older companion.
As if on cue, another ragged yell pierced the silence, this time sounding much closer than it had before.
The new bride found herself becoming quickly more crowded as Qui-Gon abruptly stood, standing next to his counterpart before her.
"My lady, it is imperative you are taken somewhere safe. Please, allow me to escort you into Mos Eisley."
(Y/N)'s suspicion was instantly cued.
"What safer place, than that which has two of the Emperor's best men? I should be no more so out of harm's way in Mos Eisley than I would be here."
The troops around them began to grow restless, their whispers increasing in intensity.
"That must be him... I hate to see what he's brought back with him this time."
"Poor Empress (Y/N). She has no idea what she's about to see."
"They don't call him The Vile for no reason."
The Empress shifted uneasily at what she overheard. "The Vile" was certainly a terrible descriptor for someone, a name she hadn't yet heard of.
"Pardon me if I speak out of turn, but you are unfamiliar with the dangers that lie in the Tatooine desert," Obi-Wan pressed, his voice becoming more urgent.
(Y/N) suddenly retracted, sitting up straight and drawing herself away from the men. As the argument had ensued, more of the troopers gathered in front of her, creating a small mob that obscured the rest of the room.
She felt small sitting on a lone bench before them, and the tension in the air had grown significantly, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Your Highness, you must leave, now!" Obi-Wan said, reaching out to clasp the Empress' elbow. She instantly snatched her arm back, eyebrows dipping down into a fiercely guarded look.
"Qui-Gon, what's going on?" She asked rigidly, not taking her eyes off of Obi-Wan.
The older man let out a tense breath, rubbing his hand across his lower face and beard. Without saying another word, he quickly crossed the room, alighting the stairs and disappearing. Silence ensued as no one uttered a word - everyone's gaze was fixed upon the ceiling, where the gentle thumping of Qui-Gon's footsteps could be heard. Padme latched onto the Empress's arm, both protectively and out of anxiety.
The intermittent shouting she had heard from the distance before now felt like it was crashing on top of them, the sound turning from a cry into an incoherent babble of begging. The convoy listened in horror as the noise approached the house, the sound of footsteps becoming audible. Along with them, a low, scraping sound was heard.
"What is that?" Padme hissed, tightening her grip.
"It sounds like... dragging..." (Y/N) muttered, flinching involuntarily when the noises ended with a muffled thump.
Qui-Gon suddenly reappeared at the base of the stair well, shoving his way into the room to stand in front of the Empress.
"Obi-Wan," he murmured, face fixed towards the door.
As if a secret code had been spoken between them, the younger general stepped between (Y/N)'s bench and the door, partially obscuring her sight. She looked between the two, able to see nothing but their backs, and then titled her head, attempting to angle her body to where she could see what was going on between them.
Slowly, Anakin's boots came into view, emerging with heavy steps. Slung over his shoulder was the body of a woman, who he carefully lowered onto the table as he came to a stop.
In his other hand, dragging behind him, was a body wrapped in tattered fabric, complete with a mask. The Emperor released his grip on the body's collar, allowing it to slam onto the ground behind him.
"Where is she?" His voice emerged quietly.
"What are you doing, Anakin?" Obi-Wan responded, attempting to steady his voice through the nerves. "Is that... is that your mother?"
"Where is (Y/N)?" The Emperor's voice asked again, this time dangerously low. "Do not make me repeat myself."
Without waiting for approval, the Empress slowly stood, releasing herself from Padme's grip and pushing past the shoulders of the troopers between her and her husband.
What awaited her was a gruesome sight. On the table lay who she could only assume was his mother; beaten, bruised, but still breathing. Her hair was matted, and her clothing was torn. The scratches lacing her skin and the dirt under her nails indicated she had undergone a barbaric fight.
On the floor closer to the steps, another body lay. Her stomach turned, and she felt the bile rise in her throat as she took in the sight. Before her was a sand warrior, or a Tusken Raider, as they were known in Tatooine. Judging by the size and stature, she was looking at an adolescent male - though she wasn't sure she'd have ever been able to recognize him had he been any more damaged. His cracked mask revealed skin that had been nearly flayed, his clothing so soaked in blood that it stained the floor beneath him. Gaping wounds decorated his body, focused more so in places needed for mobility; his hips, thighs, and shoulders all oozed a crimson complement.
As her eyes trailed up, she found Anakin turned in her direction, but not meeting her eyes - in fact, he didn't appear to be looking at anything at all. His gaze was unfocused as he gestured towards the table.
"You fixed my shoulder," he said, taking a deep, calming breath. "Now you can fix my mother."
Qui-Gon gingerly stepped forward, placing a hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder.
"Your Highness, I don't think it best for the lady to get involved -," he began, only to be cut off as Anakin whipped his head up with a foreboding look.
"She's the one who came here against our advice," he snapped, reaching out and wrapping a tight fist around the Empress's wrist. "She wanted to know what it's like to solve things in the way of the Empire. So she can make herself useful here."
(Y/N) cried out in slight pain as he yanked her forward, pulling hard to release her arm from him. Cradling her wrist to her chest and regarding him with a wary gaze, she approached the table, where Cliegg had begun to put out medical supplies.
"What about him?" She asked quietly, nodding her head in the direction of the Tusken boy.
Anakin turned his back to her, focusing on his mother and addressing Cliegg.
"String him up. Put him out where other clans can see him, hang him like a scarecrow. They'll learn a lesson they'll never forget."
(Y/N) inhaled sharply.
"Anakin, he's a child," she said, voice aghast.
"Is that right, (Y/N)?" He sneered, his tone sharp and mocking. "What do you think he's going to grow into? A pacifist?"
The Empress felt her eyes watering at the cruelty of it all - the raiders' cruelty towards his mother, and the Emperor's cruelty towards the raiders. She turned to hide her face and quickly began sorting out what she needed to clean up Shmi, waving to have the room cleared of the troopers. Padme appeared suddenly beside her with a basin of warm water and washcloths. (Y/N) gently dipped her hands into the liquid, wringing out the rags for use with antiseptic. Using her shoulder, she wiped away a stray tear as she pulled back the fabric of the older woman's tunic, immediately setting to work.
Anakin sighed, covering his eyes and temples with a hand.
"This is how the world works, (Y/N). Your kingdom is much smaller than mine. Your people are united - you don't deal with internal threats like this," he said. Pausing, he then added, "I didn't know that this was going to happen when I allowed you to come."
"What happened to the other Raiders?" She asked softly, hardly wanting to know the answer. "The women? The children?"
The sandy-haired Emperor set his jaw, face hardened.
"I killed them all. Complete eradication was the only way."
The Empress didn't say anything in response. She was actively working on stabilizing his mother, who seemed to be responding well to treatment, but having to ignore the boy who lay rasping at her feet. Watching the child bleed was traumatic. And yet, she knew that as many things as she had studied, knowledge and exposure were two very different things. It wouldn't be wise to speak back to Anakin - not now, not this time.
The Emperor, Cliegg, and Padme all observed as (Y/N) tended to Shmi. As if a warm breeze blew through the room, each felt gently caressed by a soft, golden energy that seemed to emit from her. Anakin recognized it to be the same he had felt in the infirmary before. The Empress worked steadily on his mother's wounds with a tenderness and compassion he hadn't found possessed by anyone else. Color began to paint the older woman's face as (Y/N) finished with the wraps, small amounts of vitality returning as a result of her labor.
Standing back, (Y/N) observed her patient, watching as her breathing evened out.
"I think she will be alright," she said quietly, drying off her hands. "But she needs rest. She should be moved to a room with no visitors, and Cliegg should go with her."
Anakin nodded his consent to Cliegg, who, with the assistance of troops they had called back into the room, complied in moving Shmi to his personal bedroom.
"We'll finish the night out here to make sure the threat has been leveled," Anakin announced to the remaining party. "Everyone should find a place to rest. We'll pay a quick visit to Mos Eisley in the morning to let them know the Raiders are taken care of, and then we'll board the steam engine once again."
"Your Majesty, Cliegg has offered for you to take the only other bedroom," Qui-Gon said gently, appearing next to the Empress. The young woman simply nodded in response.
"Padme," (Y/N) called, signaling for her friend to follow her.
The two women slipped into the room, isolating themselves from the men outside. As soon as the two were safely alone, they both collapsed onto the bed, saying nothing. Another tear escaped down the Empress's cheek as she stared at the ceiling. Padme knit her brows in concern as she looked over at her friend - the royal's extensive training in emotional control enabled her to hold back anything more, but she knew this had to be hard on her. (Y/N) had always been very emotionally sensitive; not only to her own emotions, but to those of others, as well. She was a fiercely empathetic leader, and had a peculiar talent of being able to read emotions off of others. She often onboarded those emotions into herself, and in turn, would struggle with the mental consequences of harboring other people's pain. Padme knew she would never admit to this - in fact, being her closest friend, she was likely the only person who knew. Her feelings of protection over the Empress intensified.
"I'm sorry, Padme," (Y/N) said, sniffing and correcting her posture with a soft smile.
"I'm sorry, too, Your Highness," the maid replied gently.
"This little cot won't hold both of us," (Y/N) muttered, desiring to turn her attention onto something useful. "Perhaps we can sleep with our legs on the floor, so there's room for both of us."
Padme nodded, reaching with a sleeve to clean the Empress's face.
Just as the lady-in-waiting dabbed (Y/N)'s tears away, the sound of heavy footsteps landed in the doorway.
Anakin towered against the threshold, staring at the women without a word. (Y/N) defensively nudged herself in front of Padme, refusing to speak as she regarded the Emperor with a look of mistrust.
Picking up on her subtle body language, Anakin paused before disappearing into the common area. He returned shortly with a cushioned pad and tossed it onto the floor next to the bed.
"Sleep there," he barked, kicking it with his boot and making direct eye contact with the maid.
With that, he left, leaving the women alone once again.
An hour or two must have passed as (Y/N) laid on the cot, eyes fastened to the ceiling above her. She listened as the movement and noise in the common room died down, signaling the eventual sleep of the men in the house. Turning her head, she watched as Padme's chest rose and fell in a deep slumber, head lolled to the side and arms tucked neatly over her abdomen.
The Empress crept out of bed, tiptoeing past the girl on the floor as she snuck into the main chamber. She briefly paused outside of Cliegg's door, feeling for the energy of two inside the room. Satisfied that Shmi was still stable, she emerged into the kitchen. Where the raider boy had lain before was now nothing more than a sandy, reddish-brown stain.
(Y/N) clenched her teeth. Nothing about the brutal torture of that child sat right with her, regardless of what his elders had done. Though, she understood where Anakin's anger had come from. Releasing her frustration with a sigh, she made towards the door, casting a brief look back to ensure the men were still asleep before slipping up the stairs.
As she climbed out of the stairwell, she was greeted by a blast of warm wind, the sand it carried stinging her skin. The bottoms of her shoes crunched against the sand and stone as she pivoted, eyes searching the darkness until she landed on what she was looking for. There, tied to a post at the top of a dune, was the slumped body of the Tusken.
She approached him with hesitant footsteps, observing for any signs of life. The boy remained motionless, unconscious, with broken, intermittent breaths.
"You cannot help him."
The Empress took a steadying breath, not turning to face her new company.
"He is destined to die," Anakin's deep voice continued as he climbed to stand beside her.
(Y/N)'s inhale hitched, as if she were prepared to say something, but she let it go. She didn't know if she could find the right words for this situation, no matter how hard she tried.
"I'm sorry you had to see this."
Still, no response.
"I'm not a monster, (Y/N)," Anakin said finally, his voice hardening again.
"I never said you were," she replied, avoiding eye contact.
"You think it. Your gaze in the kitchen was as accusatory as a jury. Your eyes make me feel like I'm on trial."
"Is that so?" She asked, giving him a sideways glance. "Perhaps it is you who feels you should be on trial."
"I did what I had to do!" His voice elevated as he turned towards her. "You have no idea what it's like to live under these people. They're inhumane. They do horrible things, and they'll raise their children to do horrible things. I know it first hand."
He clenched his fists, taking an aggressive step towards the pole.
"I saw how they had shackled my mother. It was just like how they had shackled us before. It's exactly how I remember it. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan tried to shield you from it, (Y/N). They knew what the raiders had coming, after everything they had done to me!"
He was nearly shouting now as he looked at the Tusken, his chest heaving.
The Empress's eyes grew wide.
Was that what they meant when they said Anakin was from Tatooine - that he was a slave?
She had known his upbringing was considerably rough from word of mouth and conversation with Qui-Gon, but she hadn't realized that he had been a part of the trade. She observed him now, with rage burning off of him in powerful waves. Hatred absorbed him as he spat on the ground near their feet.
"How could I react any differently?" He asked finally, voice wavering slightly. "Just like my mother, I'm a slave who has been tortured by them."
"No, Anakin."
(Y/N)'s voice was firm, catching him off guard as she stepped closer and touched his shoulder. He lifted his gaze from the scorching sand, the loathing in them faltering slightly as the two made eye contact.
"You're not a slave; you're a person."
Like wisps of storm clouds punctured by the sun, a bit of the fury in him was chipped away in that moment. The animosity between them dissolved ever so slightly as he held eye contact with his wife, only to return seconds later.
He stared into her understanding eyes, enveloped in that warm, pleasant aura. Jealousy reared its resentful head ever so slightly. He hated his wife for the position she was putting him in. Her words of compassion healed a tiny piece of him that he'd never bothered trying to fix, and yet he felt angry - angry at her challenge for him to see this child the same way. He knew the words she wouldn't verbalize, almost as if he could read her mind.
This child is also a person - not a slavedriver.
"Go inside, (Y/N)." He jerked his head back and shrugged her hand away, jaw muscles tense as he turned away from her.
"Cut him down, Anakin," she replied softly. "And then put him out of his misery."
The Emperor stood perfectly still, blade drawn at his side, as he waited for his wife to back down the dune.
As soon as she had retreated down the stairs, he raised his sword, cutting through both the ropes and the boy with a sickening sound.
From the window, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan watched, enraptured by the scene that had played out in front of them.
"Anakin the Vile," Obi-Wan muttered, flinching as the Emperor flicked blood off of his blade before sheathing it.
"...And (Y/N) the Merciful," Qui-Gon finished, eyes turned towards the door.
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A/N: Hello everyone, and happy Friday! How did you all like this chapter? I know it was a bit darker than the rest have been. I know it can be saddening to read, but I want this story to be more than a fluffy romance. I promise they'll have lots of light, beautiful, warm moments as well! <3
Did you guys catch the Force references throughout the chapter?! I wasn't sure if I was making it clear enough - (Y/N)s force heal and emotion-reading abilities, and Anakin also being able to read you at the end.
Considering that they aren't Jedi, and don't subscribe to the ways of the Force (at least not for now), I didn't want to call it that outright.
I hope this chapter was up to your standards, and as always, thank you so much for reading!
PS: special shoutout to chelseahotel2, daniaskywalker, secretly_askinwalker, mehbootiful, pleasehayden_, and petahparkah for your continuous support. I have you guys in mind when I write every chapter! I hope I never disappoint y'all! <3