Chapter Text
When Anakin was a boy he would watch the sunset and dream of a second sun, of flying through the air, with no body, and no limits. To be free in a way no one had ever been.
His mother would come to him and see his longing and she held a quiet sadness in her heart that Anakin could read. A sadness for him, a sadness for something in the past.
But she was happy with his stepfather. So happy, and as long as Mom was happy he would be happy too.
And when his mother went to the village over to sell some of their crops she didn’t come back. For a week she didn’t come back.
In the middle of the night, he snuck out, determined to find her, sure that she had fallen on the road, that she was injured or last. That he, a boy of seven would be able to find her. Save her.
He was caught by slavers.
All he had was the sunset and his dreams and his oath that he would save his mother.
Then came his savior.
His name was Sheev Palpatine. He was a traveler from Naboo. He saw Anakin one day in the market and started a conversation with him. Anakin thought little of it. He was a friendly child despite his circumstances, but then the man said.
“I think you are the boy I’m looking for.”
His smile was wide, and a bad feeling passed through Anakin, but he shook it away when he heard his mother’s name.
“Shmi sent me to find you.”
“You know Mom?!” He demanded. He had been separated from her for years at this point and was sure she shared a similar fate to himself, or she was long dead (although in his heart he knew she wasn’t.)
Palpatine nodded. He explained he had passed through the village that Anakin had run from three years ago to find his mother. There Palpatine met a woman there that was shattered from the grief of a lost child, begging any travelers for news of a golden-haired boy with blue eyes and the kindest of hearts.
“I’ll bring you to her,” Palpatine swore.
Anakin couldn’t believe it. Palpatine had gone to his master and secured his release. Anakin didn’t know quite how. Watto had furiously refused until Palpatine had spoken softly to him, too soft for Anakin to hear.
Seeing the fear in his slave master’s eyes felt good though.
Palpatine patted his shoulder and they traveled together toward his mother’s village.
He felt a deep sense of shame in his stomach. If he had never left then she wouldn’t be so worried about him.
But he was going to see her again. It would be okay. It would all be okay.
But when they arrived she wasn’t there. The village was torn apart. People were injured and hurt.
He ran to the house that his stepfather owned.
“Anakin!” he stared at him in disbelief. He was sat on a chair, both of his legs gone. His eyes filled with tears. Not only joy that he was safe, but a terrible sadness.
“They took her,” he whispered. “Not five days ago. They took her, I’m sorry.”
Rage filled Anakin’s heart. That was twice now his stepfather had failed to protect her. He rushed away. His stepbrother tried to stop him.
“Where are you going?!”
“I’m going to save her!”
“Don’t be stupid! That’s what had you lost last time. You weren’t here. You didn’t see what it did to her!”
“I won’t lose her again!” Anakin growled. He was a boy of ten but easily pushed past the older boy.
He hadn’t realized Palpatine was behind him when he reached the sand people’s village.
He stared in the shadows of dusk. It looked like a peaceful place, but it wasn’t he knew it wasn’t. He had heard all the stories. He knew what they did.
A hand came down on his shoulder. He turned ready to strike.
It was Palpatine. There was a red sword in his hand.
“This blade was made by a warlock. All before you will fall to it.”
Anakin took the sword. It was too large for him, but it didn’t matter, it felt right in his hand and all the fear and pain and anger he had suffered over the years powered him.
He only saw the red dusk. And the anger. The blade did its work.
He slaughtered them all. The warriors, the elders, the chil–
He was in front of his mother, covered in blood. She still reached for him. Tried to wipe it away.
“I love…” she whispered, but no more ever passed her lips.
Cutting Vader down had not been easy. The man was huge. Almost two metres tall covered in his heavy armour, it was a miracle the thorns could even hold him up. He expected the prince to sag as he brought him down, but he stood up. A powerful figure towering over him. Without prompt Obi-Wan handed him his water skin.
Vader nodded his thanks and turned as he gulped it down.
“Slowly,” Obi-Wan urged. A fleeting memory of Qui-Gon holding him, pouring water into his mouth. Slow. Slow.
Vader pushed the helmet guard back down and handed the skin back.
“Food?” Obi-wan asked.
A huge breath and then: “No. The water was what I really needed.”
The man’s aura stopped Obi-Wan from insisting. If the idiot collapsed from hunger later, Obi-Wan would force-feed him, but they should keep moving for now.
“The thorns are docile right now, we should move forward.”
“The halls are covered in them. I know a way around. They say she sleeps in a tower,” Vader said plowing a path through. Obi-Wan followed. Vader took one of the fallen corpse’s swords and idly hacked away at the thorns with a powerful stroke that he made effortlessly.
“How long have you been here?” Obi-Wan asked making sure to watch behind them for a sneak attack.
“Quite a spell,” Vader said. He was sardonic and seemed to make private jokes to himself at every line of conversation.
“Did you injure your chest?”
“Nothing to be concerned about, Kenobi.”
“My apologies, Darth, only I want to avoid dragging you and your armor through the thorn-filled catacombs.”
Vader snorted. “I’ve never known Jedi to be so helpful.”
“It’s literally what we’re known for,” Obi-Wan countered.
“Yan Dooku wasn’t the helpful type.”
“You knew him? Are you from Naboo?”
“No,” a deep breath. “Not originally.”
“Do you know what happened?” Obi-Wan asked.
“He cursed the country with his last breath,” Vader said. “All would fall into slumber with their Queen, nightmares to keep them company.”
“Nightmares?” Obi-Wan gasped. No wonder Vader wasn’t keen on Jedi if that was really what his Grandmaster had done. Yoda had told him what he knew of it, but hadn’t known the details.
“He was a cold and cruel man,” Vader said. There was something in his tone that reminded Obi-Wan as an aggrieved teenager that didn’t suit the dark knight in front of him.
But the man that Vader described did not match the Master Dooku of his memories. Yes, he had always been stern and serious. Cold and calculated. But he was never cruel and he always felt it their solemn duty to do good.
Vader glanced back at him. “He was apparently grieving the loss of his student. He blamed Naboo, the Queen and their people for keeping him here. He was good friends with the Chancellor, apparently one night he called for help saying the Jedi had gone mad. Are you the student? Is that you?”
“No,” Obi-Wan said immediately. “But he was my Master’s Master,” he admitted. “I … he fell. He was supposed to protect her and instead he damned them all to ten years of nightmares.”
“He was a poor protector,” Vader said harshly.
“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed.
Vader turned towards him fully. The man towered over him.
Obi-Wan felt himself slide into a guard position but kept his sword down, and kept his face neutral.
“You so easily repudiate your grandmaster?”
“What you say lines up with what I’ve seen,” Obi-Wan told him. “I learned my lessons well of what a Jedi Knight should be. Lessons taught to me by him and by my Master. If he cursed good and innocent folk, he’s not only a traitor to the people, but a traitor to himself.” Obi-Wan felt pity rise in his heart, but no forgiveness. He would have to meditate on that.
Vader tilted his head staring at him. It felt like he was looking right through him.
Padmé’s friendship with Obi-Wan was a rare shooting star. He wasn’t there often, or very long, but he would keep her company when he returned and told her what he had seen. They would sit on the grassy lawns and the birds and even the bold squirrel would come near and listen too. It always felt magical even when he insisted it wasn’t. He was only an apprentice, he wasn’t to use magic except on special occasions or in emergencies.
They ran through the castle laughing together. Even her stern parents didn’t tell her off for spending time with a Jedi.
Jedi were good luck. Jedi were a boon. Jedi protected them from darkness.
And her family had brought a lot of darkness to Naboo through their bad deals and negotiations.
The first magic he had ever done in front of her was to counter the fate Sidious had cursed her with.
It was different after that.
The visits were longer in between until it could be years between their meeting.
He never lost his politeness with her anymore. The annoyance gone. The sarcasm gone. He was deferential and appropriate.
She wanted to scream at him. Being Queen didn’t make her different.
But she knew that wasn’t it. He was ashamed. His boon had been its own curse.
She ignored the distance he put between them. Continued to request time for him. They would still sit on the well-manicured lawn. She would talk to him instead, or when it was unbearable she was speak with the birds. The still landed around the two of them happy in both their company. They had even started visiting her when he wasn’t there.
“It could be fine you know. All I have to do is marry my true love, then when I faint on my wedding day he will kiss me and wake me up.”
“That would be convenient,” Obi-Wan said with no conviction in his voice. He was well-traveled. He knew as well as she did how often royals married for love.
He was seventeen and he was handsome and knew her so well and knew her not at all. She had handmaidens that she trusted and that she spoke to, but there was a very large place in her heart and mind that always belonged to the boy in the library showing her birds.
“Perhaps we’re overcomplicating it.” she had meant it as a joke, but really it hadn’t been. Really it was a test. A question. “I marry the man my council chooses and you stand at the ready.”
Obi-Wan had been staring out into the distance in deep thought, but he quickly turned to her, eyes wide, horrified.
Horrified.
The idea of kissing her horrified him.
Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth. He was always so clever. He always had something to say, but he didn’t have words to say to her. Didn’t know how to answer her. Didn’t know how to delicately explain to her that he wasn’t her true love and she was being a foolish little girl for thinking the first man she took up a friendship with–
“I can’t–” he began.
And she was gone before he could finish the sentence.
The next day he and Qui-Gon were gone.
They didn’t come back.
After three years it settled on her that he was probably dead looking for the man that had doomed her.
“You loved him. You love him!?”
“Anakin–”
But she was drowned in memories and thorns once again.
“Watch out!” Kenobi shouted leaping into the way as thorns rained down towards them. The black armor was still. In Anakin’s rage he could not restrain himself. Padmé and his hearts were linked. He felt her pain and her love and it infuriated him. This was the one she had loved. This was the one Sidious despised. This was the source of all the pain they faced. This was why she was asleep.
Obi-Wan Kenobi.
He struck and struck, but Kenobi was clever and quick and his blade cut through him like none made of steel could.
With everything the Jedi had he protected the still armor.
Vader’s rage cooled, and the thorns slowed. He moved the armor and brought his sword through a few of the vines as Kenobi turned.
“You’re stiff,” Kenobi said dryly, but he seemed to be checking him over as well as he could check over a suit of empty armor.
The gesture twisted Anakin’s heart in a strange way.
There was silence between them save for the thorns woven together to make a larynx. The deep heavy air that flowed in and out.
“You were doing fine,” Anakin eventually sassed back.
Anakin could see into people’s hearts.
He looked into Kenobi’s.
After the day Anakin slaughtered the village and held the red blade he had never been able to see the good in people again. He could only focus on their selfishness, their cruelty, their little evils.
It soured him to most, and it comforted him to know he was not the only one so flawed.
But Padmé, he could never see her flaws. Not since the day he met her. He had become Palpatine’s servant unable to bring himself to ever return to the village he had grown up. The village where his mother had known happiness.
Palpatine was more than happy to bring him back to Naboo with him.
There it all felt better and worse. He was far away from his sins and his grief, but the court was an unkind place, and he was looked down on. Somehow people knew he used to be a slave. The courtiers never treated him with respect, even when he was doing Palpatine’s bidding.
Palpatine had probably been the one that had let it slip in the first place, he realized now. Making sure that Anakin felt isolated, with only the old man to rely on.
The vines in the armor gripped around his sword and the armor creaked.
He could see into everyone’s heart but Palpatine’s. Palpatine never lied (only twisted truths), he never felt guilt (because he didn’t care about anyone’s suffering), and hid his cruelty behind benevolent action (all a web to catch Padmé).
Padmé had been kind. The first kind person he had met there. He hadn’t known she was the Queen. She had taken to disguising herself as a handmaiden and let Sabe take her palace.
He had mistaken her for a fairy.
His mother used to tell him tales about the fey. Their beauty and grace. Their kindness. The story she told the most was of a maiden meeting the King of the Sky. A sun unto theirself.
Anakin liked that story. His mother was always so eager to tell it, but he didn’t like how sad she got after.
He had met Padmé during a ball. She a handmaiden and him a servant. Someone had referred to him as a slave. Padmé hadn’t stood for it. She rebuked the courtier.
“There are no slaves in Naboo. The Queen would never allow it! Our people are free!”
If only she had known. What had he been but a slave? A tool to Sidious’ will.
Still a tool.
He slaughtered every prince that entered the castle that would kiss Padmé and free her from her sleep.
And take her away from him.
And he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let go of her. Hadn’t they been happy together in their dreams? She never struggled before. Not for any of the others. He strangled them, pierced them, starved them. Their cries had never moved her.
But Kenobi had awoken something.
They shared a heart, and so subconsciously when Anakin saw him, she saw him too.
Jealousy boiled. She had never spoken of Kenobi to him. Was it because she had still been pining for him, even when they were to be wed?
And yet, Kenobi was different than the rest.
The princes that came here to try and steal his wife hide behind a facade of honor and goodness. Saying the right things. Doing the right things, yes, but on the inside they were rotten. They wanted her for status. They wanted her as a prize for doing the impossible. They wanted her for her rumoured beauty. They didn’t want to save her. They wanted to be the one to save her.
But not Kenobi.
Inside of his heart was only an enduring grief.
It was clear, like a perfect pane of glass.
And usually, Anakin would hate him for that too. Compare his grief with the shattered bloody glass in his own heart whenever he thought of his mother’s last words or the choked panic of Padmé on their wedding day or the bodies of the people he killed with the red blade. Of Dooku’s fury has he cursed the land with his final breath as Anakin plunged the red blade into him.
But it settled something in him instead. Kenobi was like looking out a window to to a rainy day. Contemplative and peaceful. Comfortable. The chill of loss softened by fondness and love.
He didn’t speak like a prince. He was blunt. His humour was dry and sarcastic.
But he threw himself over the peasant girl. Offered Anakin the last of his water. Protected him even though Vader had indicated he could take care of himself.
And it wasn’t because that was what his image needed to be. It was just who he was.
He led Kenobi to a flight of stairs.
Kenobi claimed he didn’t want Padmé like the other princes had. Anakin believed him.
He didn’t see her as a prize, or a goal.
But Kenobi was a liar. His love shone through the window of his grief, breaking apart the rainy day.
This was the man that could wake her up.
And for a moment Anakin paused at two branching staircases.
She could be free.
He could feel her love for the Jedi Knight.
She would be safe with him. Happy.
Free.
Anakin had always dreamed of freedom.
That’s what it was.
Obi-Wan Kenobi shone like the freedom he once dreamed of as he watched the sunset–
“Bring him to me, and none shall ever disturb you and your wife again. I will see to it.”
The promise rang in his head.
“Have you forgotten your way?” Kenobi asked teasingly.
“He was the one that cursed her to sleep. His actions led to the destruction of your body. Bring him to me. Aren’t you tired of the slaughter? You can sleep beside her.”
Freedom. Loneliness.
No.
He was too afraid to lose her.
He had at his core always been a coward.
He led Kenobi up toward the ramparts moving away from the tower Padmé was cocooned in brambles.
They came up onto the wall that was on a sheer cliff which dropped into the ocean below.
Kenobi looked around in confusion.
“Something’s wron–”
Anakin let the armor fall bonelessly in a heap. Thorns grew over the staircase trapping Kenobi outside.
And at the edge of the wall a figure cloaked in black.
“Kenobi,” Sidious said slowly with a sinister smile. “I have been waiting a long time for this.”
She stood in her wedding dress in a silent castle.
There were only thorns.
“Anakin,” she said firmly.
The thorns twisted and pushed in, trying to wrap around her.
But she would not be dragged down again.
A small boy with copper hair and star-like eyes stepped forward and held out his hands. A flock of birds appeared gripping the thorns and holding them back. The thorns writhed.
She could feel it. The hurt at her small champion. Panic and pain.
So much suffering.
And so blind.
“Anakin,” she repeated, looking at the true face of her husband. Twisted vines and brambles. Her memory was finally clear. Her heart ached.
The day of their wedding she fell to a curse.
She was dreaming right now.
But he was with her.
“Speak to me, please. I know there’s still good in you. You are not the monster he twisted you into. You are my husband.”
She looked down at her ring finger. It was not an elaborate diamond. It was a simple wooden ring, carved with care and love. He promised her he would give her something better when he could, but she would not hear of it. How could anything be more precious than this? Her husband’s love around her finger.
“Please,” he said faintly.
“Anakin.”
“Please don’t leave me.”
She felt tears fill her eyes, and anger, and frustration.
“Don’t you believe in me?” she asked.
The thorns stilled.
"You have always believed in my dreams. In my kindness. To do good. To help my people. To rule fairly. To act with kindness. Does that not extend to you my love?"
"He's trying to take you from me!" he yelled. So sure. So sure that she loved Obi-Wan more than him.
"He's not trying to take me, Anakin."
"No, he's--"
"He's trying to save you."
"What?"
Obi-wan stumbled back holding up his light blade, it was barely enough to stop the warlock’s lightning bolt. He could feel static electricity run up his fingertips.
Yoda had gifted him the blade.
“Cut through the thorns it can,” Yoda said, stirring his tea.
“And what will this cost me?”
“Even we are. A lesson you gave to old Yoda,” Yoda grinned. “900 years old, still a fool I am. Still learning I am.”
Obi-Wan took the blade and examined it. The blade looked like it was made of a pure blue light. The handle curved in a particular style.
“This is my Grandmaster’s… then he is truly dead.”
“Dead,” Yoda agreed sadly. “Fall Yan Dooku did, but more than that I do not know. The blade will suit you.”
Obi-Wan blinked. The curved pommel was gone, replaced with the cross guard he was more familiar with.
He admired it in wonder.
“But this won’t help me against Sidious,” Obi-Wan guessed. “You said that the thorns were a monster created by him.”
“Tragic that tale is. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. Fell in love with a peasant boy the Queen of Naboo did. Brave the boy was. And loyal. To kill the warlock that cursed her, he swore. The one responsible he believed he found. Dooku.”
“He thought it was Grandmaster?” Obi-Wan asked in surprise. “Where ever did he get that idea? He has been the Queen’s protector for years.”
“Sidious,” Yoda replied. “A long game the warlock played and bitter Dooku’s heart had grown. From humble beginnings the boy was, but with the blood of a king.”
“A king? Then… when she married him…”
“Anakin Skywalker was the boy’s name.”
“Anakin… my Master once told me of him. An archfey married a mortal woman and unintentionally left her and her babe behind.”
“With the Queen fell in love he did.”
Something squeezed in Obi-Wan’s heart. “Did she love him?”
Yoda gave him a look that saw right through him.
“Yes.”
“Then why is this a tragedy?” Obi-Wan demanded. “A prince. Her true love. All he had to do was kiss the bride and there would be no problem!”
“Manipulated young Skywalker was. In the service of Sidious he had been, unwittingly a pawn in the warlock’s game he was. The Queen’s warden he is now.”
“What?” ice dropped in Obi-Wan’s stomach.
“Cursed to terrible jealousy. To claim the Queen’s kiss, many came. Lose her he would not.”
“Trapping her,” Obi-Wan said.
“Left inside young Anakin, more thorn than heart there is.”
Obi-Wan contemplated that.
“That isn’t love,” he said softly.
“Twisted he has become,” Yoda agreed.
“And this sword could destroy him entirely?”
“Wrapped in his thorns the Queen is. Free her and destroy him you will.”
Obi-Wan was silent, running his finger over the blade as he considered this.
“But it won’t destroy Sidious.”
“No.”
“And freeing her from his thorns won’t wake her up.”
“No.”
“And she loved him. Loves him.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for your time, Master Yoda.”
At first, he had been fooled by Darth Vader. A survivor in the castle wasn’t impossible.
But the knight knew too much. There was too much meaning in his words. Vader was a puppet. Skywalker was playing games with him before he killed him.
Obi-Wan held his sword tightly. Weighed it in his mind as they stood at the crossroads, the armor’s back to him.
Padmé closed her eyes.
It was a memory. The thorn’s perspective. He had been focusing in the armor. He didn’t see Obi-Wan stare at his back and slide out his sword.
“We played as children,” Padmé said. “He knows where I am.”
“Padmé?” Anakin asked, hushed. He watched the scene play out from this new perspective.
Vader led Obi-Wan up, perhaps he didn’t know that Obi-Wan had run around this castle as a child chasing Padmé trying to keep up with her.
Even now he could hear her unrestrained laughter.
Now would be the time. Cut the armor’s strings, go up to the tower, free Padmé.
Kill Skywalker.
And then what? Kiss her?
He had tried to tell her all those years ago when she asked if he would kiss her at her wedding to another.
Of course, he would. Of course, he would, even if he had to give her away if it meant that she would live and see her country safe and peaceful and out of the hands of the evil warlock.
But he was the one that had given her the boon. He had used his love for her to cast the spell. He couldn’t use his love for her to break the spell. It was a paradox. He loved her, and so she would sleep instead of die. If he broke his own boon Sidious’ curse would reassert itself.
And so killing Skywalker would only be killing.
And even with Vader's sarcasm and grim humour in the brief time they fought together, he had seen glimpses of him. Of Anakin. He was sure of it.
Obi-Wan's love kept her asleep. It couldn’t be used to wake her.
But maybe... maybe...
Anakin watched as Kenobi lowered his sword after longingly glancing at the tower, and then his eyes were on the armor’s back. A decision was made.
“I’ll save him, Padmé,” the Jedi promised before following Vader up the stairs toward Sidious.
Obi-Wan really was born with no luck. As he continued up the spiral stairs he remembered the day he broke her heart. She returned his feelings, feelings he had buried deep inside himself knowing they could never come to fruition. He accepted that. If it meant she would live he would accept anything.
And there they were in that field and he had learned he had doomed her a second time.
She thought he had rejected her.
But maybe that was for the best. She had found love again.
Anakin Skywalker.
She loved him.
To cut him from her would not awaken her. Would not save the country.
It would only destroy him.
And perhaps he might deserve it. He had trapped his lover. Killed the princes that tried to save her. Had become a monster. Twisted and evil.
Killing Sidious would probably not free Padmé. What kept her asleep was Obi-Wan’s boon, not the warlock’s curse.
But killing the warlock might break the spell on Anakin Skywalker.
He followed after Vader grimly.
This was the man that Padmé had fallen in love with.
This was the man she married.
He had to believe that for her, Anakin could come back into the light.
He would believe in him. If Anakin was free, he could save her as he was meant to on their wedding day.
“Oh, I recognise that blade,” Sidious grinned. “Your old Grandmaster’s sword. I had wondered where it had gotten. I had planned to make a crimson blade out of it. You can only make them out of Jedi blades you know. First, you have to destroy the Jedi’s soul. Your Grandmaster was tough, but even I was surprised at how completely he fell. Cursing the entire country with his last breath. So much for his devotion to good.”
Obi-Wan’s stomach turned at the thought. A crimson blade invited darkness into its wielder. It was powered by anger and hatred. One person might slaughter hundreds. Their anger would override all their senses and all inhibition would be lost.
“I shall take it when our business is concluded,” Sidious continued. He strolled closer, casually sending lightning toward Obi-Wan who continued to sweep away the attacks.
“You have no idea the trouble you caused me. A mere slip of a boy that barely understood incantation. It was a humiliation. True love’s kiss,” he sneered. “I will not see it unavenged. You will die slowly, and with you gone, there will be no one else able to stop me from claiming this land and feeding on its misery.”
“I don’t think so,” Obi-Wan said. He batted away another ball of electricity and took on a dueling stance.
Sidious laughed. He pulled out two crimson blades from his robes.
“You think you can destroy me?” His evil grin was wide with amusement. “It won’t save her you know, even if you could beat me.”
“It’s not her I’m trying to save.”
He would place his faith in her and the man she loved. He would endure as long as he needed to. He would not fall.
“Padmé?” Anakin asked suddenly in the dream of himself, holding back the thorns–but he was the thorns–!!
They tried to move past him to get to Padmé.
“Stay away!” he yelled. He felt a cascade of fear and anger and jealousy and insecurity.
He was reading the heart of the thorns.
His own heart.
And it was ugly.
“Padmé–!” he cried in sorrow.
The thorns pushed into him tearing into him. He couldn’t keep them at bay. They would swallow her. Keep her trapped forever.
And then a blue blade cut through them. Kenobi stood beside him and glanced at him.
“You–”
“I lied to you,” Kenobi cut him off.
And he was the thorns, attacking the Jedi as the Jedi fended off Sidious' blade, but he wasn’t talking to Sidious.
And Anakin was standing beside him, a man, a ghost. The thorns, not the thorns.
“I love her,” Kenobi continued, ignoring Sidious’ mocking rejoinder. “With all my heart I love her. But I cannot save her. My spell keeps her alive, but it also keeps her asleep. It was cast using my feelings for her. If I break it she will die. I can’t save her.”
Anakin twisted around and he was holding back the thorns again. Keeping them from Padmé. Trying to pull them away from Obi-Wan. He wanted to ask. Ask why. Why was he fighting Sidious then? Wasn’t it useless? Why was he here?
But he had no mouth to speak with.
“You can,” Obi-Wan said simply answering his unasked question. “But you must be the man she fell in love with–NGH–”
A vine tore into the Jedi. Obi-Wan lept back crying in pain.
“Obi-Wan! No–I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–I–” the thorns pulled back as far as they dared. Sidious wasn’t bothered. He strengthened his flurry of attacks. The crimson blades tearing shallow cuts into Obi-Wan.
He was the thorns. He was the thorns. He couldn’t speak. He could only keep her away from others.
“I can’t kiss her, I can’t hold her. I can’t do anything. I’m just–I’m just a faded dream!” Anakin cried.
“You are my husband,” Padmé said and she was beside him now slowly pushing forward against the thorns, effortlessly. They started retreating away from her. “Your form never mattered. Slave boy, servant, champion, prince, husband, it was all you. That’s who I love.”
“I–I’m sorry. Padmé I’m so sorry.”
“Then save him, Anakin. Because I love him too.”
His heart should have shattered when she told him that. He should have fallen into despair and been Sidious' puppet forever.
But how could he? Obi-Wan loved Padmé so purely, so unselfishly that he would try to save Anakin for her.
It made him love him too. Obi-Wan put aside his jealousy and moved forward without fear. He was strong for her and brave for her like Anakin had always wanted to be. It made him see Padmé’s memories clearly for the first time without the haze of red.
The smiling boy with star-like eyes who only pretended to be grumpy.
The fearless man who guarded a stranger against thorns set on tearing him to shreds.
The sun was up.
The dawn had come.
“HAH!” Sidious laughed “You’ll have to be better than that if you want to beat me boy!”
“Argh–” Obi-Wan fell back, a large jagged gash down his side from the thorns, cuts all over his body. He glared at the warlock and threw himself forward. His light blade crashed with Sidious’ crimson, not made of light, but the blood it had absorbed from all its victims. Palpatine crossed his blades locking Obi-Wan in place. Obi-Wan pulled back and tried to thrust forward.
Palpatine blocked it with his blade and then held his hand out. Energy sparked. Obi-Wan stumbled back, but he was on the edge of the wall. He fell, shoved off, sparks flying around him.
A whistle split the air.
Boga skittered up the wall, grabbing him out of the air.
“Good girl, I knew you wouldn’t stay away. You’re far too disobedient for that.”
Boga flared her feathers and gave a screeching war cry. They were back on the wall. Sidious only laughed seeing Obi-Wan’s reinforcements.
He raised his hands and his form melted away. Electricity burning the air around them. A large black dragon formed in front of him.
Obi-Wan breathed in.
Maul had been smaller and it had taken two of them, and in the end his Master had died.
He breathed out.
He had to kill him. He needed to save Anakin.
Padmé loved him…
And Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan might–
“Go!” he yelled and Boga charged forward. He held out his sword that shimmered and morphed into a great lance.
The dragon bellowed breathing in crackling energy.
They couldn’t dodge the massive bolt. Electricity coursed through him and Boga. They stiffened as the shock ran through them. He dropped his lance, and both collapsed to the ground.
“IS THAT ALL?” Sidious cackled. “NOTHING BUT A SWORDSMAN AFTER ALL. NOW YOU WILL DIE.”
Sidious claws came down toward him. He could not dodge.
And then a wave of thorns caught the claw.
“WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? HE’S TRYING TO TAKE HER FROM YOU! STOP AT ONCE! OBEY ME! NOW! STOP!”
The thorns ignored the warlock. Obi-Wan staggered up and watched as all the briars that surrounded the castle and the city retreated back towards this wall. Towards the dragon.
“NO!” Sidious bellowed as the thorns wrapped around him. “NO!!” he shrieked.
Obi-Wan patted Boga who gave him a small bleet indicating she was alright. He picked up the lance and slowly limped forward.
“YOU ARE MY SLAVE YOU WILL OBEY ME!”
“His name is Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “And your power over him is gone.”
The thorns forced the dragon down. Obi-Wan lifted the lance. He did a duelist salute and then thrust the lance into the dragon’s heart.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Sidious screamed. He continued to struggle against the thorns, but he soon weakened, the form of the dragon fell and before Obi-Wan was the evil old man that had haunted his dreams since he was a child.
Sidious glared at him. “My death… won’t save him either.”
And he was dead.
The thorns writhed. Obi-Wan waited, but they didn’t attack. They tentatively move towards him.
“You saved me. Finally come to your senses, Anakin?”
The briars seemed to shift shamefully.
Obi-Wan smiled. “It’s hard to break through out of such a dark place. You really are a man worthy of her. I expect no less.”
The thorns fell back from the door. Roses started to sprout, guiding him toward the tower. Obi-Wan check over Boga and then followed along after she reassured him that she was fine.
With every step more roses bloomed.
He entered the tower.
There was Padmé.
She was in her wedding dress. Bloody gashes from where the thorns had been holding her.
He stared at her. He had never thought he would see her again.
The thorns gently nudged him.
“It’s as I said. I cannot save her. All my hopes were on you. I cast the spell, if I break it myself, she’ll die.”
He had never seen a plant look so devastated. It wound around him, careful not to pierce him. A plead.
“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan whispered. He ran his hand along one of Anakin’s vines wondering if he could feel the comforting touch. “I thought killing him would break your curse. Something is still holding it in place.”
Obi-Wan felt so utterly useless in the moment. Not only had he failed to save Padmé, but now he had failed to save Anakin.
“You’ve been very brave,” he said quietly. “You’re free now, even if your form has not changed. I can see your real love for her. Not the possessiveness and jealousy.”
He smiled weakly. Roses continued to bloom throughout the room.
“I’m glad she has you. I will find a way to save you both. I swear it. I'll keep searching no matter how long it takes.”
It felt like he was speaking to an empty room. Padmé asleep, Anakin unable to reply.
The thorns wrapped around him a little more firmly.
Don’t leave. He understood the voiceless request.
Obi-Wan sighed. He didn’t want to leave, but he couldn’t leave them like this.
A rose bloomed in front of him. With the greatest of care he caressed the top of its leaves.
“I want to see you both alive again, I want to meet you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said and gently pressed his lips against the soft petals.
Power exploded through the room. Obi-Wan was overwhelmed. Curse upon curse was breaking in a chain reaction all around him. His vision went white. He fell back, but something had caught him.
When his eyes cleared he found himself in the arms of a tall man who held him in a dip, kissing him rather thoroughly.
“You’re both here!”
They jolted. Obi-Wan almost fell to the floor until the man, Anakin, tightened his grip again pulling him up.
Padmé was leaning up on her arms on the bed staring at them in disbelief. “Is this a dream?”
Obi-Wan was speechless.
Anakin started to laugh.
“It isn’t funny,” Padmé said, but she was smiling too big and couldn’t hold in her own laughter as well. Tears streamed down their faces.
“If it is a dream, it’s a good one,” Obi-Wan said after their peals of laughter had died away and they were left with some awkward uncertainty between the three of them.
Padmé stood and held them both.
If it was a dream, Obi-Wan didn’t want to wake up.
Epilogue
With Obi-Wan’s kiss the last thorn of possessiveness was plucked from Anakin’s heart. Anakin was free of his curse and kissed Obi-Wan with everything he had. Apology, and joy, and thanks, and love.
Anakin and Obi-Wan’s love for Padmé, and their burgeoning love for one another…
Well, that was true love’s kiss.
And so Padmé’s curse was also broken. Her husband free of his self-made chains, and her first love free of his promise and his regret, their kiss awakening her.
And with the Queen of Naboo awakened, Yan Dooku’s curse that he uttered with his final breath was broken. The years of nightmares ended for the Naboo. It was finally morning.
There were many things to do. Their land was overgrown and their buildings crumbling and crushed. Not everyone had survived the sleep.
There was work to do.
But Padmé was eloquent and she was brave. She made treaties and agreements and gained aid for her people. She opened up communications with old allies that her family had long forgotten. Standing beside her were her lovers who mirrored so perfectly the gifts the Jedi had once given her.
Obi-Wan was well-spoken and well-versed in contracts. He knew how to navigate negotiation, and he had many friends of the people he had helped over the years. His silver tongue was known far and wide as well as his reputation for tireless energy at the negotiation table.
Anakin was brave. He faced what he had done. How much he had destroyed with his fear. It was true that Palpatine manipulated him, cursed, him, and controlled him, but Anakin had deliberately made others suffer in his misery and fell so tightly into the spell because of the seeds that had been planted in his heart. Palpatine only fed his fear and possessiveness.
He worked towards making amends. He did not ever expect the forgiveness he had found in his lovers from the others he had hurt, but he apologised through his words and his actions. He was a good man from that day on and learned the Jedi ways to always help others in need and grant blessings and boons to the good and the needy.
Two springs passed and it was announced the birth of a royal pair of twins. Palpatine’s bargain with the royal line of Naboo was now broken with his death. Padmé rocked her babies knowing that they would be free to be married to the ones they loved, or not married at all if that was their choice.
Sometimes she worried she was still in the dream, deep asleep.
But there were no thorns and her loves and her children stood with her.
The land was renewed, the kingdom prospered.
And they all lived happily ever after.
The end.