Saga The Angel And The Dragon

The Angel and The Dragon​

He was darkness, he was death. Born a slave, raised a Sith, he was the perfect weapon. He

knew no fear, no compassion, no love. But then, how could this woman, this jedi, turn

everything he knew on it’s head. Perhaps, the world wasn’t all black and white. Perhaps there

was some good left in him. Maybe, just maybe, an Angel could love a Dragon. (Anakin/Padme

AU. Rated Teen/PG-13)

Prologue​

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Darkness and Light​

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Too different to be friends​

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Too much chaos to find the ends​

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Darkness chases off the Light​

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In return Light brings a fight​

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Darkness hides all your fears​

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Where no one can see the tears​

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Light brings hope and better life​

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Cutting Darkness with a knife​

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In the Light, my body you will find​

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While in Darkness resides my mind ​

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-Beth Ahna​

The electric burn of energy and lightning danced across his skin, the smell of its power burned

his nostrils, its intoxicating taste lingering on his tongue.

The dark, brooding, engulfing power of shadow and self. It was all had had, all he was, and all

he needed,

It swirled about him, flaring and waining as he grasped its power. He held it tight, for the dark

was wild and fought, much like him. They were kindred spirits, the dark and he. The violence

and chaos they wrought together was a love song. The dark was all he needed. The dark was

his only friend.

Crackling energy teased his fingers. A smile twisted his handsome features. It was not

handsome. It was the twisted grin of a krayt dragon, a serpent with a stolen soul.

A flick. That was all it took for the man’s insides to burst.

His smile grew.

He felt the man’s heart explode within his chest, his lungs pressurize and rupture, his every

bone to crack and shatter. With a sinking crush his life was gone, a sacrifice to the dark.

His smile only grows. Gently closed lids flutter open to reveal startling blue eyes. His eyes are

cold and electric, like the lightning that pulsed in his veins. They are sharp and cruel, lacking in

all compassion. White and blue and gold. Angry gashes of amber cross his iris, shimmering

yellow of molten treasure bleeds into its emotionless depths.

They are eyes of wisdom and hate and infinite power, the eyes of death.

They are the eyes of Anakin Skywalker...

...The eyes of a Dragon...


~ ~ ~ ~


She takes a deep breath. Air in, air out. Calm. Collected. Focused. Eyes closed in

concentration.

Carefully she tucks all her emotions away, releasing them into the ever moving body of the

Force.

Breath in, breath out.

Her hands tense around the metal handle of her blade, her fingers tracing each contour, her

flesh melding perfectly with it.

Breath in, breath out.

Her hair is braided loosely behind her head, its rush chocolate waves tumbling free in one or

two places.

Breath in, breath out.

Her stance is loose, her body fluid and ready to fight. Her muscles tense and relax. Her chest

rises and falls with each deep breath.

Breath in, breath out.

Her eyelids flutter open, revealing brilliant eyes full of life. Her eyes are the colour of evergreen

wood and chocolate and all things good in the world. They are full of life and protection and

want. Small swirls of hazel and green glimmer between the oak skin brown.

They are the eyes of wisdom and healing and growing power, the eyes of life.

They are the eyes of Padmé Naberrie...

....The eyes of an Angel...


~ ~ ~ ~


A.N. So yes... I made another story when I really should be updating my other stuff. Um... oops? Okay, I got attacked by a rabid plot bunny, and after a quick visit to the hospital, the virus set in. And now, you have this little baby. It's not my fault! Those things are brutal! And the after effects. It's like the worst hangover ever (except I've never been drunk, so I'm just guessing...) Okay, did I really just relate writing to getting drunk? I’m loosing it I swear...
Okay, enough rambling from me. Just read it and tell me what you think.
Oh! Can I pose a challenge for you guys? For every review I get, I'll write 400 words. Sound good?

 

Hmm, interesting premise!

 

^_^ Plot bunnies will be plot bunnies. Only time will tell where this thing goes.

 

A.N. This story had been brought you you by C21 FX’s music and lots and lots of coffee.

So, if you havn’t noticed, this story is a major AU. Anakin’s a Sith, Padmé’s a jedi. Yup. But other than that, the

story’s mostly like the movies. Now, I’m not going to be posting again until I get my reviews. *greedy face* So go

and hit that little button!

R&R!

Chapter One: Dragon's Lair​

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Enter darkness. Leave the light.​

Here be nightmare. Here be fright.​

Here be dragon, flame and flight.​

Here be spit-fire. Here be grief.​

So curse the bones of unbelief.​

Curse the creeping treasure-thief.​

Curse much worse the dragon-slayer.​

Curse his purse and curse his payer.​

Curse these words. Preserve their sayer.​

Earth and water, fire and air.​

Prepare to meet a creature rare.​

Enter, now, if you dare.​

Enter, now... the dragon's lair!​

-Nick Toczek​

Padmé Naberrie walks slowly through the great halls of the Jedi Temple. She pays no heed to the jedi milling about

around her. Padmé’s thoughts are reflecting inward.

As she walks, she puzzles over the war.

War, of all things. It was unimaginable. Yet only a few months ago it had happened. The Republic had gone to war.

It had all started with the Blockade of Naboo, her home world. She had only been a child, barley even three years of age.

Her family had been some of the unfortunate few who had not survived the occupation.

Padmé had.

And she always would. She was a survivor. She had something to live for. She lived for her people, for helping others.

That is what the jedi had seen in her. The will to continue on, to do the impossible, all in the name of good.

The jedi saw this, and decided to teach her. Yes, she was older than most, but she was still young enough.

The day of Naboo’s independence, Padmé had been forever taken from her home. But not without sacrifice.

The jedi who found her, who had saved her life, died that day. Qui-Gon Jinn had been killed fighting a Sith.

Yet another puzzle the galaxy had yet to answer. How were the Sith still alive? Hadn’t they all been whipped out?

Apparently not, for Qui-Gon was dead, and Padmé was once more alone. In her grief, she gravitated towards the only

other one who felt as she did. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Qui-Gon’s former student. They had both lost a father figure that day.

They had latched on to each other, and refused to let go.

That was how Padmé had found her master. A few years of basic training at the temple, and Padmé was ready to

become a padawan. And who chose to teach her, but Obi-Wan. It had most certainly been the happiest day of Padmé’s life.

Sixteen years of adventure, she had spent with her master. Sixteen years of protecting the galaxy, learning all there was

to learn, and enjoying the friendship with her father and master.

But it had all shattered on that fateful day on Geonisis.

First it was the unease caused by the Separatists, then the betrayal of Count Dooku, (one of their own!) then the attacks

on the outspoke leaders against the Separatists.

Padmé had been ordered to protect one such leader, Duchess Santine. It had been



decided that Padmé would see to the Duchess’s protection while her master searched for

her assassin.

The results of the search had proofed fruitful, but disastrous.

The revelation of a secret clone army built for the Republic was shocking enough. But

then the Separatist openly

declared war by trying to execute Master Obi-Wan, with Padmé and Santine along with

him after a failed rescue attempt.

(Something Padmé was greatly embarrassed by.)

Thank the Force the other jedi arrived in time, but the loss of life afterwards hardly seemed worth it.

In the coming battle, droid had clashed with clone, man against machine. Thousands of lives had been lost.

At the end of the battle Padmé and Obi-Wan had managed to catch up to Dooku, only to find he was indeed a Sith

apprentice and nearly be killed by him. With only the intervention of Yoda did the two survive. But Dooku escaped.

On that fateful day, the Clone Wars had begun...

Padmé is shaken from her musings by a gentle hand on her shoulder. She glances p to see the kind eyes of her Master.

Obi-Wan smiles to her. “We’re here.” He says simply.

Padmé nods and takes a breath.

Together they enter the chamber of the Jedi Council...

~ ~ ~ ~

Anakin Skywalker stands before the gilded doors of the Chancellor’s office. He had already been waiting several

minutes for Palpatine’s meeting to end, yet on it went. Should he not be first priority?

Anakin understood the need to keep character. Sidious’ plan to destroy the Republic from the inside out was genius. The

planning that had gone into it was extensive, but that didn’t keep the impatient young Sith from growing irritated at his

master’s neglect.

“You’re behaving like a caged tuk'ata.” Says an icy voice behind him. Anakin turns around to face none other than fellow

Sith, Sly Moore.

Sly had been the Master’s first apprentice, and one of the only Sith in recent history to obtain the title of Master without

killing their predecessor.

It all had to do with Sly’s origin. The fact Sidious was her father had little to do with her loyalty. Unknown to most, Sly was

only half Umbaran. Her mother had been the Senator for her home world, and in a play for power, she and Sidious

became lovers.

The product of such an action was Sly Moore.

Sensing the fetus’s great Force sensitivity, Sidious had urged her not to terminate the pregnancy. Instead, she had gone

to Kamino, where the embryo was removed and placed in an artificial womb.

The only altercations the Kaminoans had made few altercations to the growing child, only altering her DNA enough so it

could not trace back to either parent, as well as a Loyalty Programing, making her loyal to a fault to her father and her

father only.

Once born, Sly was raised in secret by Sidious to become the perfect Sith.

However, her midichlorian count wasn’t as high as he expected. Sidious decided to keep her however, as he formed

some semblance of an attachment.

Confidant in her loyalty, he taught her everything he knew, she became the sole keeper of all Sith knowledge.

Through her, the Sith legacy would forever be engraved in history.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Anakin bites back, referring to her obsession with the beasts. Sly had obtained a

tuk'ata pup on her first trip to Korriban had since trained and raised it. She had named the female pup Talon after Sly’s

role model and inspiration, Darth Talon.

Sly smirks. “Are you accusing me of abusing my pet?” She asks with a bite in her voice.

Anakin decides to ignore her. Rather, he asks, “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I’m here to talk with Palpatine.” She says simply.

Anakin raises a brow. He hadn’t know the both of them had been summoned to Sidious’s office.

Before he can answer, the doors to his master’s office open. From them leave several senators, some grumbling among

each other, others looking quite smug. How Anakin would like to white that look from their faces.

Instead, he and Sly enter the red and gold room. Behind them the doors slid shut on their own accord. Or rather, through

a nudge of the Force from Sidious.

Sidious sits at his grand out desk, his chair turned around so he can look upon Coruscant.

Sly gives a half waist bow. “Father.” She says simply. Anakin nods, the only form of respect his proud self with give.

Sidious turns his chair around, a kind smile on his face. But beneath the warm is a raising evil, a smirk of a man who has

already won the game, in is ready to gloat in his spoils. None say the underlying grin, but Anakin did. After seven years

with the man, he had learned to read Sidious quite well.

“Ah, my children.” Sidious greets. “It’s good to see you.”

“You as well, Father.”

Past the pleasantries, Anakin cuts to the chase. “Why is it you called us here?”

Sidious shows no outward annoyance out Anakin’s disrespectful attitude. He knew Anakin did now show respect in

words, but actions. He was too proud to show submission to anyone, even his master. Rather, he showed his respect

through perfect obedience. It was simply how he was.

“I have a mission for the both of you?” Sidious says at last.

“Oh?” Asks Sly Moore, a hairless brow raised. “And what might that be?”

“Sly, my daughter, I wish for you to travel to Korriban. Take your hound with you. There is something I need you to pick

up for me.” Sidious’s expression turns dark. “The jedi are slowly catching onto us. I need a bit of leverage.”

Sly bows. “It shall be done.”

Sidious turns to Anakin. A wicked smile on his face. A feeling of foreboding fills him. He knows, deep inside him, that

whatever his master says next will change his fate forever...

~ ~ ~ ~

A.N. Bwahaha, cliff hanger! I’ll hopefully update soon, as well as my other fics. So, wut ya think? Yay? Nay? I

need feedback!

Alrighty, yeah, I added some interesting back story to Sly Moore. I had the random idea that she was Palpatine’s

daughter, and it sorta ran from there. i hope I didn’t piss any of you off with this. (And her being a Force user is

cannon! Tuk’atas are also cannon) And in this fic, she is much prettier than in the movie. I always thought she

looked a bit... ugh. This is a bit more what she would look like http://themozzy.deviantart.com/art/Lyy-54080277


(Art belongs to The Mozzy) In this fic she’s about 28 or so. Anakin is 17 and Padmé´is 19. Obi-Wan is the same

age as Sly.

 

I still have goose bumps from Anakin and Sly saying "Father!" to Palpatine!

This fanfic basically sucked me in like a black hole, even though I know I should NOT... argh whatever, please put a busy kindergarten teacher on your update list who won´t even make it to the Jedi Con 2014 in Düsseldorf/ Germany next week. Reading isn´t such a big problem for me than travelling from A to B at present.

 

I will remain silent on the topic of Duchess Santine and the travesty of TCW

You certainly have a knack for making villains. Palps having a daughter is a terrifying idea. If ever someone should have practiced abstinence it should have been him.

Just like your other work I'll be watching this one as well

 

Mando-Man Well, I needed some Senator-ish person to take the place of Padmé and she just seemed a logical choice since she and Obi-Wan had past history.
(And oh my god I totally butchered her name didn't I?)

 

AzureAngel2
That's what I was going for... >
Aww, no con? There's always next year, yeah?

 

A.N. This chapter is brought to you by six year old brothers who love Star Wars just as much as their

big sisters. Go my little padawan, rule the galaxy!

And now for some icky gushy feelings.... (You’ve been warned.)

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Chapter Two: Red Threads​

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Entangled with no escape​

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It connects us​

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Intwined with one thing​

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One destiny​

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It holds, with strength greater than ten thousand men​

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But it seems as fragile as glass​

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You can't escape​

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It catches you at every twist and turn​

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Always too many steps ahead of you to count​

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Even if you run fast​

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In destiny's eyes, you are as frozen as ice​

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Trapped in it's stronghold​

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It catches you by the wrist​

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Ankle​

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Neck​

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You can't escape​

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Stuck like a moth in a spider's web​

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'I'm not letting go'​

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Your destiny​

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Your true meaning​

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Wrapped around you​

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The red thread, telling you how fast you were going to run​

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What twist or turn you were going to take​

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And how far you would go until you finally noticed​

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There was only one path the whole time​

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It always knew..​

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It knew all along.​

​

-Amanda Buffington​

“Go to Cerea, you must.” Says the ancient jedi that is Master Yoda.

“Cerea?” Questions Padmé.

The green skinned master nods. “A great disturbance in the Force, there had been. On Cerea, it had come.”

“Wouldn’t someone else be better suited?” Asks Obi-Wan. “Master Mundi, you are from there, are you not?”

The jedi nods. “That I am, yet the Force wills me not to return to my home world.” He looks at Yoda, who

gestures for him to continue. “The Force has given Master Yoda a vision. A vague one, but a vision none the

less. You two are the ones meant to investigate this occurrence.”

Padmé opens her mouth to question the further, but Obi-Wan speaks before she can she can say anything

rash.

“As you wish, Masters. When shall we leave.”

“Immediately.” Says Mace Windu.

Padmé sucks in a breath. Their assignment must be urgent if the Master wish for them to leave immediately.

Obi-Wan bows, and Padmé follows suit. “Of course. We can leave within the hour.”

Together, the two leave to gather their things. Deep inside, Padmé knows this mission will change her life.

For better or worse, she does not know.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Anakin, I need you to travel to Cerea. There has been a strong disturbance in the Force. One that must be

looked into immediately.”

Anakin raises a brow. “Cerea?”

Sidious nods. “It is quite odd for such a thing to happen on such a back water planet, yet it has.”

“And what of the jedi? If the disturbance was so strong, even they with their short-sightedness would have

been able to sense it.”

Sidious grins. “That is why you must be very careful. Keep the facade of a simple traveller. And if you do

encounter the jedi, don’t kill them.”

Anakin raises a brow in surprise.

“I want you to get close to them. Learn from them. Their plans. See how close they are to discovering the

truth about us. But you must be very careful. If they were to find out who and what you are...”

Anakin snorts. “If they find out who I am I’ll simply kill them.”

Sidious shakes his head. “Try your best not to kill them. The death of a jedi will certainly raise suspicions,

and I don’t need any more of that.”

Disappointed, but not willing to argue with his master further, Anakin drops the subject. “When do you wish

for me to leave?” He asks at last.

“Immediately.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Padmé watches as the stars streak past her as her fighter travels at light speed. She finds the sensation

oddly peaceful, and she uses the time to meditate. The nervous feeling in her gut has yet to leave. It is like

instinct is warning her of an oncoming storm. Some devastating force of nature that with either make her

stronger, or utterly destroy her.

Closing her eyes, Padmé lets the Force surround her. Her breathing slows as she drifts within its peaceful

flow.

Slowly and image appears within the dark of her mind’s eye. It is of a red thread, twisting through the dark

shroud. It seems to continue on forever.

Looking down at herself. Padmé realizes the treat is connected to herself. It is coming from beneath her

robes, just above her chest. Pulling down the garment, her eyes widen. While most of her skin is its usual

pink hue, her chest is transparent. Through the skin she can see her beating heart encased within her ribs.

The red thread goes through her skin, and is tied around her heart in delicate knots. Padmé swallows, but

oddly she feels no fear, not repulsion at the odd sight.

A slight tug on the string causes her to release her shirt. Another tug draws her attention to the depths of the

shadows before her.

Calming herself, Padmé starts walking. As she walks, the red thread winds into her chest.

No sound other than the slight patter of her footsteps can be heard. All is quiet and still, eery yet peaceful.

Onward she walks, for what might have been hours, or mere minutes. She isn’t quite sure.

Finally the dark begins to fade, a slight light glowing in the distance. Padmé breaks into a run.

The light is a warm red. Closer she gets, and a figure appears in front of the light. Padmé slows to a walk, an

odd feeling suddenly making itself known. It was not fear, but felt somewhat similar. Caution perhaps?

Closer she walks. As she nears she can see the figure in more detail. The figure is most certainly male, that

she can tell first. He is wearing dark robes much like that of a jedi. He is quite tall, and he carries himself

regally. His dirt blonde hair is long and wavy. From what she can see of his stance, he is quite athletic and

muscular. His back is facing her, his hands clasped behind him.

A small glimmer of metal causes her to look down. She hisses in a breath at what she sees. His right hand is

a prosthetic. The metal is brilliantly formed, that she knows. It is made of a mix of silver and gold metals. Her

eyes barely notice his head turn ever so slightly to peer at her, so transfixed she is on his hand.

Suddenly, he turns around. Padmé jumps back at the sudden movement. The man makes no move at her,

simply looking at her in interest. She looks at his handsome face, his startling blue eyes. Padmé’s breath

catches as she gazes into the blue and gold eyes. The stare he returns is intense and cold, but some hidden

form of warmth lies beneath.

“Who are you?” She asks at last, finally finding her voice.

The man cocks his head at her. Briefly Padmé wonders if he can even understand her. Her doubts are put to

rest when he speaks in Basic.

“Anakin Skywalker.” He says in a smooth voice. Her heart makes an odd fluttering movement. She then

notices that the other end of the red threat leads to the strange man’s chest.

“And who are you?” He inquires after she neglects to share her own name.

“Padmé Naberrie.” She answers simply.

The corners of his lips pull up, just slightly. “Pretty name.” He murmurs.

Padmé can’t help but smile herself. “Yours as well.”

Anakin blinks in surprise, as if no one has ever said such a thing to him before. It dawns on Padmé that he

probably hasn’t.

Her fingers absently brush over the thread that ties them together. “Do you have any idea what this is?”

Anakin remains silent for a while, then, “I heard an old story once, back on my home planet, about the Red

Thread of Fate.”

Padmé looks up at him. She is once more caught on his brilliant eyes. They shine with truth and wisdom, but

also a darkness well hidden.

“It is said that the thread binds people together. That those tied will one day meet each other.” He fingers the

red string. “The thicker the thread, the stronger the bond.” Padmé grasps her string, and notices it is quite

thick. Realization hits her.

“So we are meant to meet?” She asks.

“It would appear so.” Anakin walks slowly closer to her, his intense gaze never leaving hers. A chill runs up

Padmé’s spine. She swallows. “Well, I look forward to when we do meet.” She whispers.

Anakin is now only inches away from her. “As do I.” He murmurs. His flesh hand gently takes hold of hers.

Glancing down, Padmé holds onto his metal one as well. Anakin appears startled at her action, but a warm

smile slowly overtakes his expression. Carefully, hesitantly, he leans forward. Padmé took stretches closer to

him. Their faces near, startling close. Padmé finds she does not care. Her eyes are half lidded, unfocused.

Finally, they meet. At first their lips just brush, but after a few moments the kiss grows deeper, stronger.

Padmé finds herself being lost in the sensation of kissing this strange man she has only just met, if only in a

dream.

But it feels so real.

The kiss grows more urgent. The threat tying them together tightens until they are forced to press chest to

chest. Again, Padmé does not care.

They finally pull apart in need of air. Both their breath is ragged, their eyes glazed. Padmé brushed a

tentative hand across his face, tracing a scar over one eye. She absently wonders where he got it.

The threat tightens once more, and Padmé finds Anakin’s arms wrapping around her. She basks in the

warmth he offers. Here she feels content. Here she feels safe. Yet there is an underlying feeling of darkness.

An evil stirs around them. She can feel the man holding her is dangerous. There is a darkness in him. But

there is also light. They seem to fight in turmoil, trying in vain to gain the upper hand.

Padmé closes her eyes. She can worry about that later.

Now, she just wants to be held.

“Padmé...” Anakin begins. His words are cut short. Padmé feels a sudden cold around her, Anakin’s warm

embrace gone. Her eyes open and she realizes in disappointment that she is back in the cockpit of her ship.

She sighs.

The sudden twitter of her asromech droid pulls her from her melancholy.

“It’s nothing Artoo. Just a dream...”

~ ~ ~ ~

Anakin blinks awake. That was... an odd dream. He sits up in the captain’s seat of his personal ship. Tiredly

he rubs away the sleep from his eyes. A red light flashes on his controls, alerting him to the end of his trip.

Just a few more moments and he will be able to exit light-speed and descend to the planet below.

Switching off auto-pilot, Anakin falls into the familiar rhythm of flying. His mind absently wanders back to his

dream.

But was it a dream? It felt so real.

It disturbed him. The fact that he showed such open emotion to another person, especially one he had just

met, it was cause for great concern. Granted, it was most likely just a dream, but with Anakin, it was hardly

ever ‘just a dream’. That had been proven time and again.

Anakin brushed away the thoughts. He did not want to dwell upon his prophetic visions. They brought too

much pain.

But that dream... Never before had he acted in such a way to someone else. That... tenderness.

Not since Mom... No, He would not finish that thought. That was in the past, a past he would rather forget.

Padmé. The name alone sent his nerve endings tingling. Who was she? What was she? How could this

woman leave him in such a state? She was nothing, yet he felt that if they did indeed meet in the waking

world, he would do whatever she asked.

He the most powerful Sith to ever exist, bow to some woman? It was inconceivable. The notion was entirely

out of reasoning, yet the feeling lingered.

He wanted to see her, and not just in a dream. He knew she was real, out there was a woman of the name

Padmé Naberrie. And deep inside him he felt something he hadn’t felt in seven years.

A small stirring of emotion that wasn’t hate or fear. Not even anger. No, it was... affection? No, it was stronger

than that.... Dare he say it.... love?

But that was absurd. Sith did not love. He did not love.

Still, the feeling lingered....

~ ~ ~ ~

A.N. “It was so ooc!” They said. “But it was a dream” She said. “Still out of character!!!” *proceeds to

shoot the author dead*

Whelp, no story then...

 

So, I usually write in past tense, but for some inane reason I decided to do this one in present. Maybe to further my writing skill? Probably just cuz I'm frickin' stupid. Ah well. It has been done!
And yes, my little Minion (aka baby brother) helped get me off my lazy butt and update. If only the same could be said for my other fics.... Le Sigh.

 

No time due to family business (= my dad´s birthday and above the 75 each year that I still have a father counts), still recovering from the flue (and still taking antibiotics because I have a massive infect this time) and money issues (because kindergarten teachers are not the best paid people in Germany).

Anyway:

Padmé. The name alone sent his nerve endings tingling. Who was she? What was she? How could this

woman leave him in such a state? She was nothing, yet he felt that if they did indeed meet in the waking

world, he would do whatever she asked.


I think she will mean EVERYTHING to you soon. There is no way to resist this!

 

AzureAngel2
Well I certainly hope you and your dad get better. Illness sucks, especially infections. And teachers don't seem to be paid well anywhere. (Random question, but since you live in Germany is english your first language? I am always interested in other cultures, and it annoys me that most Americans or so biased and oblivious of other people. Guh, sometimes I hate my country.)

Ah yes, she will, won't she? It didn't seem to ooc to you? I was really worried about that. I actually have no idea where this is going. I barely know what's going to happen in the next chapter before I write it! But it's fun. This is actually one of my favorite fics so far.

And please pardon any spelling mistakes I make. I'm dyslexic and therefore spelling and grammar is a real challenge for me. I've only been writing for about two or three years now, so I'm still trying to get comfortable with it.
Actually, I couldn't read until the first grade, and refused to read novels until fifth. (I believe that would be second and sixth to you, since you don't include pre-k. I know at least England does school that way...)

Anyhooz, I'll be updating very soon. Like, in ten minutes soon. lol.

 

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Chapter Three: When Fear Comes Out to Say Hello​

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When my feelings become real ​

My mind turns dark ​

Feelings coming in a hurry ​

The monsters come out to play​

My happiness becomes blurry ​

Fear comes out to say hello​

03:07 is a haunted number ​

Comes out angels who lost their halo​

No monster under my bed ​

No monster in my closets ​

But monsters inside my head​

-Noma​

​

Cerea was a beautiful world, Padmé has no doubts. How it would receive them was another matter

entirely. Cerea was know as being cold to outsiders. Not hostile per-say, simple unwelcoming. They don’t

like newcomers.

Padmé watches as the beautiful blue and green planet comes into view. It is filled with grass and trees and

rivers. It reminds her a bit of her own home world. Even though she had hardly spent any time on Naboo, it

simply felt... right.

Slowly she and her master angle their ships down in a gentle assent. They will be arriving in an hour and

thus Padmé allows her thoughts to wander. She still can’t understand her dream, if it was even that. It

seemed almost like a vision, though she honestly wouldn’t know. She’d never had a vision before. Padmé

knew jedi could glimps the future through the Force, but prophetic dreams were rare.

It just seems so important. He seems to important. Anakin, her mind mulls over the name. It’s a nice name,

she realizes absently. She likes the way it falls from her lips as she murmurs it. But the question remains;

who is Anakin Skywalker?

Padmé sighs. Already she has pondered over it for hours. Still she has come no closer to an answer.

A sudden beep from Artoo pulls Padmé from her musings. “What is it Artoo?”

The little droid whistles and sends a small message on her dashboard screen. Padmé’s heart grows cold.

“Another one?” She breathes in horror. Artoo gives a mournful positive.

Padmé falls back in her seat, her eyes unseeing. A deep well of sadness fills her. Another sighting only

means more death.

It was that monster, that murderer. A black clad creature, though appearing human, was anything but. A

grotesque mask covered his face, but thorough the many surveillance footage it could be easily

determined he was a human, or at least a near human.

The wielder of a blood red lightsabre, he carved through beings like it were child’s-play. Already a dozen

videos had been captured of him. Always there was mass carnage in his wake. His kill count was now well

over a hundred, and that was with less than a dozen minute long footage. Who knows how many more he

has killed.

No one has a clue as to what or who he is. Many jedi speculate he is a sith. It was after all revealed that

the sith had returned after the events of Naboo. The real question was wether this was the master, or the

apprentice.

Still, there had been no clues to the creature’s identity. Even his fighting style was a mystery, as it

combined so many forms that it seemed to be a style of its own.

The only clue this far had come in the latest (or second latest Padmé noted dully) footage.

The figure had left a person alive long enough for them to ask the crucial question. It had been a jedi

tasked with a small force of clones protecting a recently liberated planet. The creature had decimated the

clones, killing every one in mere minutes.

The jedi too had been so overwhelmed it was almost comical.

In his last moments, Master Nyis Belzara turned the tides, of only a little. “Who are you?” He had

questioned through a crippling force choke.

At first it appeared the figure would not answer, but finally he spoke. When he did, it was in a mechanically

altered voice. A voice like death.

“I am Darth Vader...”

And with that, he sliced open Belzara’s chest to let the insides meet out. The transmission cut off then, but

not before the newly named Darth Vader looked straight to the camera. Starring out from inside the carved

sockets of the skeletal mask were the yellow gaze of a predator. He nodded his head once, then crushed

the camera to dust. Like that, Darth Vader had declared war on the Jedi. Like that, he invited them all to a

battle to the death.

A battle, Padmé fears, none would come out of alive.

“I must trust the Force.” She murmurs to herself. Concern over this threat would not in any way help her

current mission.

So Padmé does what a good little padawan does, and shuts those thoughts away. Pretends like they don’t

exist. Focus on the here and now. That would be so much easier if everything in her wasn’t screaming to

pay attention, to think for herself. There was something else. Something she wasn’t seeing. Perhaps

something no one was seeing...

Padmé’s ship suddenly rocks violently, alerts flashing all across her cockpit.

“Artoo! What’s happened?” She yells to the droid. Artoo beeps in worry and confusion. Glowing letters

scrawl across her display screen.

“What do you mean the engine just went out?!” She cries. Artoo whistles. “Crash landing?! Well that’s just

great.” She grumbles. “Can you get us steadied at least? I’d live to survive this mission, thank you very

much.” Artoo beeps an affirmative. While her ship remains smoking, the fighter stops its death rattle. It

gives one more forceful shake as they enter the planet’s atmosphere, but levels out once more.

Padmé sighs in relief, one that is short lived. Artoo squeals and letters flash across her screen.

Padmé sits bolt upright, her eyes wide. “Obi-Wan?! What about Obi-Wan?!” More glowing letters. Padmé

feels her hope continue to plummet with her dying ship. “His engine’s out too?!” Artoo beeps lowly.

Glancing to her right she catches the smoking form of her master’s ship. Together the two jedi fighters

descend swiftly to the world below. Hopefully they will survive the crash.

“Force, this couldn’t get any worse, can it?”

Too late Padmé realizes she spoke much too soon. From her other side comes the burning shape of a

large ship, its metal hide completely caught in flame. Worst yet, it’s coming right towards them.

“This is not my day...”

~ ~ ~ ~

The Star Chaser is truly a thing of beauty. A starship built for both battle and speed, it is Anakin’s personal

creation. A slim bodied vessel, its wings curved back before sweeping forward, its hull mirroring that of a


Nubian starship. It was cruiser sized, but could easily be flown with a single pilot. Anakin didn’t even need

a droid to help fly her.

She is the fastest, most durable ship in existence. Her fire power is unmatched, her maneuverability

unchallenged.

She was like a bird of prey. Nothing could daunt her. Nothing could bring her down. Time and again she

had proven her worth, her yellow painted hull never fading, never failing.

It is his pride and joy. That is, if Sith could have a pride and joy. Honestly, Anakin finds that he often has

very un-Sith like thoughts.

Perhaps it was due to his mother.

Mom...

He had named his ship after her, in a way. He always wanted to be a pilot, and no matter how impossible

his dream was, she had supported him. She had truly believed he would be free from the bondage offered

by Tattooine, the dusty earth that sucked away all dreams and hopes.

She once told him he could do anything. That if he reached far enough, he could reach the stars. She told

him to chase his dream, to chase after those stars. To be free.

He was free now. But at times, he wondered.

Service to his master doesn’t always feel like freedom. In fact, it often makes him feel like a dog on a leash.

A pet to be commanded by a cruel master.

Is he truly free?

Anakin is shaken from his treacherous thoughts by a violent lurch in his ship. Alarms wail in warning as the

ship groans in abuse. White hot fire licks at the outside hide as the Star Chaser begins plummeting

towards Cerea.

“Not good. Not good.”

He looks at the readouts on his monitor. “Engine entirely blown, thrusters down, hyperdrive inactive.”

He is practically free falling towards the planet below. It will take all his skill and luck to pull this one off.

Absently Anakin notices two small fighter ships in his port side, also burning in re-entry, but his mind is

focused on surviving this crash.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this...” He mutters.

~ ~ ~ ~

A.N. I needed some jedi to be killed off in the chapter, so I just used Master Nyis Belzara. He was
killed in an unknown way during the Clone Wars, so I thought it somewhat realistic. Meh, I just needed someone to die, *evil laughter*.
Just a warning, like I've already said, THIS IS NOT CANNON. IT IS AN AU. Just clarifying. Things are going to be very different.

 

I made a thing! It's Anakin's ship the Star Chaser!

http://ceemaire.deviantart.com/art/Star-Chaser-486912255?ga_submit_new=10%3A1412652444

 

I like the bold yellow in your star cruiser design.



And I love the fact that you write brilliant stuff like this DESPITE being dyslexic.



You are an artist anyway! And have much talent to show to the world.

German is my mother tongue. I am back in my old job as a kindergarten teacher, but I used to be a secondary teacher for English, German & Art Education in the Netherlands for six hard years. Because I suffered from almost daily discrimination as a German from the Dutch & ended up with low budget substitute teacher jobs that nobody else wanted, I moved back to Germany last summer.

So English is my 2nd language and Dutch my third.

My French is more than rudimentary. I understand more than I can talk back.

I know some Irish Gaelic and some Polish, but just very few sentences. Enough to make people smile and be friendly to me.

Anyway, what I like about your story is the description of emotions and the landscape.

 

Great update and nice starfighter design. I agree with Azure the quality of your writing is fantastic.

 

Thanks guys. And sorry I havn't updated in a while. I'm in high school and it is murder. *sigh* New chap on Chiaroscuro though.