Archive of Our Own

He wakes up at the age of nine from a dream he knows was not a dream. It was a poison, dripping with syrup and salt in equal measure.

He had been free. He had been a hero. He had been a husband.

He had been enslaved. He had been a villain. He had been a wife-killer.

Any good he had done in that world had been through the efforts of his children, and he was left haunted by crimes he would never commit. Could never commit.

For in that world, Anakin Skywalker had left the ownership of Gardulla the Hutt at the age of three.

In this world, he is nine, and Gardulla still holds his detonator.

SWSWSW

He’s genuinely surprised when he walks into the shop to watch the counter for Watto to find a girl with a too familiar face and a too familiar droid. Surprised enough that he forgets himself, asks if she’s an angel, just as a smaller version of himself did in another world, and registers the brief surge of horror in her eyes when she looks at him before she tamps it down with a skill he knew belonged to the queen.

The first time Anakin Skywalker met Padmé Amidala – as far as his memories of another world can tell him – he had been nine years old and innocent. In this world, he is fifteen and he bears the scars of others’ greed, a twisting of skin across his face that turns even a smile into, at best, a wicked smirk.

Gardulla had liked it, the damaging of her property even as she lost it into Watto’s hands. Watto hadn’t cared – Anakin’s face was injured, but the rest of him was whole and functioning. In later years, though, it made the threat of his loaning Anakin out to others for an evening somehow worse.

“Angel?” she asks, and he can see the horror has moved to something like pity. He rails against it, but the part of him that was twisted permanently by that other Anakin’s life craves any attention she will give him.

“They live on the Moons of Iego. The spacers say they’re the loveliest beings in the entire galaxy,” he goes on, and he sees a hint of pleasure in her eyes. He doubts the queen gets genuinely flirted with very often, and perhaps his rough appearance does not detract from that.

“No, I’m not from Iego,” she answers, smiling.

“Are you sure?” He tests her, presses on. If he is older in this world, who is to say there are not other changes, differences from that life of another Anakin? Can he be certain she is a queen? “Many of us come from other planets, long before we have memory of them. Were you born in your master’s service?”

“Master?” Her eyes widen, flick towards the back exit where Watto left with the tall human that might be Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and then back towards him. Not a slave then, for she has no resignation. “He’s not my master. H-he’s my uncle.”

He can hear the lie, but he nods, trying for gentleness in his expression.

“Keep your head down then. You’re pretty. People pay a lot for pretty around here,” he explains, as kindly as he can, and now her politician’s face has given way to horror.

“Are you – did they –?” she tries, but she cannot go on. He does not remember her falling into silence this way in that other world, but the difference pleases him. He doesn’t want this to be like that world. The thought of treading in his other self’s footsteps lies somewhere between horror and terror, for its eventual outcome.

“A pod-racing accident,” he says, and runs a finger down the scar that twists his cheek and mouth. “I was nine. I lost the race, but my master still chose the wrong winner. She lost my mom and I to Watto.” His own gaze runs to the door. He does not much care for Watto, but he can be grateful. He is a kinder master than most, and he appreciates that even more in this world than his last. Yet more reminders of Gardulla’s ownership lie beneath his clothes.

“You’re a slave,” Padmé breathes, and this time there is no question in her voice, only dismay, disbelief.

“I’m a person,” he says, but there is no scolding in his voice, only a weary sort of determination. He sighs, smiles again, and this time she seems to see beyond the way it twists his face to the feelings below. “I’m Anakin. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Padmé Naberrie,” she answers, and it’s the same name he knows from that other world, the name of a freeborn woman of another planet, before she chose a name for her planet to call her, a name with its own burdens and chains.

“That’s not a Tatooine name,” he notes, and tilts his head. “What are you doing here?”

Her expression is ironic.

“Buying ship parts,” she points out and he grins at her, acknowledging her point. She grins back, before sobering slightly. “Our ship has been damaged. We need to fix it before we go on.”

“Well, Watto’s got the best junkyard this side of the planet,” Anakin jokes. “S’long as you can pay, he’ll find your part.”

That saw her chew her lip, and her so-called uncle came striding out of the back, irritation oozing into the Force, and he bit back a complaint.

“Come along,” the man commands, and Padmé turns to follow him.

“Nice to meet you!” Anakin calls, willing her to look back just once more.

“And you, Anakin,” she calls back over her shoulder, her smile bright as the twin suns.

“Off-worlders,” Watto spits in disgusted Huttese, “they think we know nothing.”

“She seemed nice to me,” Anakin replies, almost absently, and Watto snorts is amusement.

“Aha, has Ani found a lady-love?” he says, but his tone is less hurtful than warning. “Pah, she’s off-worlder, don’t waste your time.”

Anakin sighs, knowing how much it irritates Watto.

“Get on,” his master orders. “Finish cleaning that pod and then, ah, you can go home.”

“Thanks, Watto.”

SWSWSW

Later, he thinks that worlds must mirror each other, that some things are always meant to be. This time there is no confrontation with Sebulba – Sebulba died in the last race – and instead they run into trouble with a boy his own age, but freeborn, who takes a liking to Padmé and assumes he can take advantage.

He doesn’t have time before Anakin is there, pushing away the hand that gripped Padmé’s face.

“She’s freeborn, sleemo,” he snarls, and he knows by now how to use his scars to intimidate, “as is her uncle.” He points to probably-Qui-Gon Jinn, a few metres away, haggling with someone over something, and if he’s meant to be the queen’s protector, he’s doing a poor job. “He’s a big time off-worlder.”

“Doesn’t look big time,” Fetser growls mutinously, and then sulks as Anakin snorts.

“Does anyone besides a Hutt on this world?” he sneers. Fetser yanks his wrist from Anakin’s grip, angered by the contempt.

“Hands off me, slave.” He goes to punch him, but Anakin dodges, tutting under his breath.

“Temper, it’d be a shame if you had to pay for me, and Watto wants me in the race,” he shot back. “Your parents got enough to pay Watto if I can’t enter?”

Fetser snarls again, stalking off, and Anakin turns to Padmé.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Yes. Does he do that often?” She’s chewing her lip again.

“Usually he picks on people who can’t fight back,” he answers. “You looked about two seconds away from punching him, but I figured you didn’t want to attract too much attention.”

“And you would be right,” her companion said. “My apologies, Padmé, I should have been paying more attention.”

Anakin does not retort his agreement – he has spotted the lightsaber, briefly revealed, on the man’s belt, and probably-Qui-Gon Jinn goes to definitely-Qui-Gon Jinn. He wonders at the other Anakin’s starry-eyed affection for the man, but perhaps the difference between nine and fifteen can explain that.

“Did you find your part?” he asked Padmé and she shakes her head.

“Watto has it, but it – we don’t have the right currency,” she explains, and Anakin nods.

“Well, come on, you look thirsty,” he tells her.

He purchases the pallies, gets a warning of a sandstorm, and wonders if the Sand King knows what will come. Does he mean to see one of his sons leave the deserts of Tatooine? The same offer of hospitality is given and accepted, if more willingly from a fifteen-year-old. His mother is surprised, if a little more knowing when she spots Padmé, no doubt more suspecting Anakin of harbouring an attraction than acting from pure friendly altruism.

She would not, perhaps, be entirely incorrect.

C-3PO is nearly finished in this world, Anakin’s older years having granted greater skill in completing him. Padmé is suitably impressed, and Anakin himself can remember that the droid survived to the end of the Clone Wars, and maybe beyond. He still has echoes of memory, that the droid had been with his son or daughter, but he was never certain, that future self having relinquished every bit of happiness in his past when he denied Anakin Skywalker.

The same conversation is had, the same advice given, but it cannot end the same way.

“I’ve never won a race,” Anakin explains. “The odds on me are pretty astronomical at this point. Watto wants me to win this year. If I win big enough, he’ll be set for life. If you have enough to make even a reasonable bet, it should be enough for your part.”

He doesn’t expect freedom this time, except perhaps if Watto wins big enough.

He doesn’t count on Qui-Gon Jinn’s interest in him, especially after the ‘games’ he sees him play with the other young slaves. They are not permitted weapons, so old broom-handles substitute for staffs, and Anakin has taught his body some of that fitness that his other self once had. He doesn’t realise that some of the movements are too reminiscent of ‘saber forms, that it catches Qui-Gon’s eye in ways that are as suspicious as they were wondering.

He wins the race.

This time, somehow, he wins his mother’s freedom as well as his own. Padmé is swift to offer sanctuary and employment on Naboo, assuring them of her queen’s agreement. They accept, pack away their few belongings, say their goodbyes, and leave Tatooine.

In this world, Anakin hopes he will never see it again.

The Sith attacks, and Anakin cannot help Qui-Gon for fear of his mother’s life.

This time, when Anakin Skywalker meets Obi-Wan Kenobi, it is with the determination to ignore the horrors of that other life and embrace the joys. Even if he is never a Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi was once as close to him as a brother. It is with that warmth that he greets him, and if Obi-Wan is startled, he makes no sign of it.

Sabé-as-Amidala reiterates Padmé’s offer of a home and employment, saying they can do nothing less for those that helped them in their time of need. His mother weeps at their kindness, in the way that sheds no tears, and gives silent prayers to the gods in thanks for these kind strangers.

“Tell me of the Allies,” Anakin asks her that evening, in hopes of cheering her, “tell me how they helped the Twin Suns protect their son from the Empty Dark, and proved that not all outlanders were slavers.”

She tells the story, her voice rising and falling like the winds of Tatooine, and before it is over, he senses the presence of Obi-Wan, and turns to see his eyes focused, head tilted, all his attention upon his mother’s words. His mother does not stop, does not shy away from telling this story in the hearing of one not born of Tatooine, for what is he if not one of the allies?

“They say the son of the Twin Suns, grandson of the Sand King and the Sky Queen, He of Many Names, will one day return to Tatooine,” his mother intones as she draws to a close, “armed and taught by his Allies to help his kin in their fight against the Empty Dark and his servants, Hyatan, and all those that steal freedom. Under his hand, Tatooine will grow free, and one day, rain will fall once more on her sands and call forth the lost past.”

Anakin is silent, remembering the wording of the stories of the Chosen One, and deciding he prefers this story to the Jedi’s. He tries to recall if he ever heard it in the other world, but his mother’s stories were not so often needed in that world, not to build his identity so well as his back healed from yet another of Gardulla’s whippings.

“Do all on Tatooine tell such stories?” Obi-Wan asks, breaking the silence, and his mother’s gaze snaps towards the young Jedi.

“Not all,” his mother replies. “When another owns your body, stories may contain all else you own, for another should never be permitted to own your hope.” She smiles, and Anakin feels his heart break for the other Anakin, who had never seen his mother as a free woman, who had only seen her in those last moments before she died.

“Then I am glad you have something,” Obi-Wan says. “Stories form a rich culture, even history, on many planets. I fear I have rarely considered their importance to those…” he pauses, as though searching for a delicate way to speak his feelings.

“Trapped in slavery?” his mother offers, and Obi-Wan nods. “Your Republic forbids slavery, and perhaps you have not often seen it. Your teacher was likely the first Jedi on Tatooine in some time. It is easy not to know what you do not see.”

But Anakin remembers, knows that the Jedi know of the lawlessness of the Outer Rim, the men and women and children entrapped there, but in that other world they are stretched so thin as to be incapable of visiting and freeing the slaves as he once dreamed – still dreams – of doing. The bigger picture is an insidious thing, and this Senate is likely just as corrupt as the other one. Instead of supporting a fight against slavery, they would demand proof, form a committee, and nothing would be done before the Hutts bought every Senator they could and assassinated those they could not.

He realises, with a clarity he never had at nine years old, that if slavery on Tatooine is to end, it must come from the planet itself. It must become too dangerous to enslave sentient beings, too expensive to keep them in check. And from one planet, that momentum can spread.

Perhaps, in this world, he can achieve his dreams.

So when Qui-Gon takes him to the Jedi Temple the day after their arrival on Coruscant, Anakin kisses his mother’s cheek, telling her he’ll be back soon, and goes to meet the Council. He waits to see them before speaking.

He cannot know if they are the same as they were in the other world.

The Jedi Temple is as magnificent as it was in the other world, and he feels a greater scorn for the concept of the Jedi’s vows of poverty than before. Their possessions may be few, but they live in a home that dwarfs Jabba’s palace on Tatooine, where they always have clean clothes and sufficient food and a warm bed and an education. That it all belongs, ostensibly, to the Order itself is meaningless, for the Jedi themselves belong to the Order.

Yet he cannot scorn the Jedi themselves. He remembers the difficulties of the other Anakin, the petty jealousies and fears, and he knows that the Jedi had no more idea how to deal with a nine-year-old who missed his mother and feared for her safety than he had known how to deal with people who told him to let go of his attachments.

Mistakes on both sides.

The Council, it seems, looks very much the same, but they watch him with a greater wariness. He knows that the memories of the other Anakin have betrayed him, made him too strong, controlled in his abilities. They look at him and see him partially trained and they wonder how and fear the answer.

He begins, however, by thanking them.

“I know it wasn’t Master Jinn’s duty to free anyone from slavery on his mission,” he tells them, “but I’d like to thank him and the Jedi Council for his doing so.”

“Disappointment, I sense in you,” Master Yoda says, and Anakin flinches. He had not meant to reveal that. He understands, he tells himself that, and yet the feeling still lingers.

“I only wish more could be done,” he answers instead, “to help my friends and free Tatooine and the Outer Rim from slavery.”

He feels the compassion in the room, even the trickles of righteous anger, and he realises that perhaps the Jedi themselves are not content with how their Order is treated by the Senate, how their own duties have been hamstrung by politics.

“It is to the Republic’s shame that more has not been done to spare the Outer Rim from such things,” Master Mundi says, his voice soft and mellifluous. “But we Jedi are few in number.”

This too, Anakin knows, and he suspects that the Code is why. Its fears and interpretations of attachment do not lead to children being born to many Jedi, where the potential for the Force would be strongest. Perhaps they fear the risk of attachment between parents, or between parents and their offspring, but he has the memories of another life, and he knows that that Anakin Skywalker would have Fallen far earlier were it not for his attachments, even as said attachments were used to manipulate him into Falling.

But here and now, perhaps he needs to plant the seeds of their own resurgence. Maybe with more Jedi born into the Light, the Dark will have a harder time clouding the will of the Force.

“Why don’t you just have more?” he asks, pretending bewilderment.

“Force-sensitive children are rare,” one of them says, and Anakin shakes his head.

“Sorry, I meant, you know, actually having them yourselves, rather than tracking them down,” Anakin explains. He doesn’t want to use clinical terms, terms too like slavery, so he chooses humour and insolence instead. “I mean, you guys do have sex, right? They don’t cut it off when you become a Jedi?”

Someone sputters, and he can feel someone’s deep amusement over the Force that might be Master Windu, although the other Anakin’s memories suggest he never had a sense of humour.

“No, they do not,” Windu informs him. “However, it is not so simple a task as having children of our own. Not all Jedi have Force sensitive children.”

“Oh,” Anakin murmurs, and perhaps it was the other Anakin’s fault for that assumption, recalling Luke and Leia and Galen, where only one Force-sensitive parent was necessary. “But some might be.”

“We will take your suggestion into consideration,” one of them says. “That is not the reason you are here.”

“No, Mister Jinn said something about me being Force-sensitive,” Anakin acknowledges. He doesn’t use the word ‘master.’ It leaves too tainted a taste in his mouth. It will be some time before he can use it in its proper form as a gesture of respect, without slavery spoiling it.

“Yes. He was right. You are unusually strong in the Force, especially given your lack of formal training.” A head tilted. A pair of eyes focussed. “However, he said that you are more capable of using the Force than someone of your age, even your power, should be without any training.”

Does he tell them? Of the other Anakin, the other world where the Jedi perished in fire and betrayal? Does he lie?

The truth, a voice that sounds like that other older Obi-Wan resounds in his head, from a certain point of view.

“Did Mister Jinn tell you of my abilities? Pod-racing, I mean?”

“He did.”

“It’s – it’s not just pod-racing. I mean, I see things, before they happen. I’ve had dreams, visions… Some of them are pretty boring, but, well, they taught me things.”

“You learnt Force techniques from visions?”

“Well, they’re better than the nightmares.”

There is debate, requests for proof and demonstrations, and at last Jinn and Obi-Wan return.

“It is the agreement of this Council that Anakin Skywalker is indeed Force sensitive and partially trained,” Master Windu declares.

“Then he will be trained?” Jinn asks, and Anakin blinks.

“Whoa, what, training?” he says, and every eye falls on him. “Who said anything about training?”

Jinn looks nonplussed, and Anakin can sense a hint of amusement from Obi-Wan, leaking through the Force.

“Jedi training, no, Skywalker. Too old. Force training… wise would be,” Master Yoda says, and Anakin blinks again, deciphering his words.

“So I can’t be a Jedi, but you want to teach me to use the Force anyway? Why?”

“You are powerful. Too powerful to go untrained. Your own abilities have protected and helped you so far, but as you grow older, it is possible that they will not be enough,” Master Windu explains, and Anakin wonders. They never offered such adjacent training in the other timeline. Was that because of the other Anakin’s youth, his keenness on becoming a Jedi, or something else? “However, this is not the time. We have had word that Queen Amidala intends to return to Naboo. Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi will go with her as her protector. Do you intend to?”

“Yes,” Anakin says decisively. “My place is at my mother’s side. And… Naboo has offered us a place to live. I will do what I can to help.”

When he leaves with the two Jedi, he fancies he can see Yoda smiling.

SWSWSW

The battle is strangely familiar. There are differences, tiny things, like the fact that his mother is waiting behind, that he has to argue with her and the Jedi and Panaka before they let him help (he has to cite the queen’s age before they do), and that his arrival on the droid ship is rather more planned than in that other world.

Qui-Gon Jinn still dies at the hands of the Sith. Obi-Wan Kenobi still becomes a knight. But this time, there is a slight difference, one that Anakin cannot quite identify, that he decides not to. Maybe it is simply the fact that he does not have the stress of a nine-year-old boy to deal with.

Two months after the Battle of Naboo, he’s storming his way through an engineering course, while his mother has become attached to the queen’s household. He’s surprised, then, when Sabé arrives and asks him to visit the palace, that he has a message from the Jedi Council.

They are going to send Obi-Wan to train him.

When he arrives, he understands why, for Obi-Wan Kenobi has done badly in his grief, and he realises that perhaps the stress of a nine-year-old to deal with actually helped him in the other world.

In this one, there is less tension between them. Anakin doesn’t need to put on the same formal respect and lack of attachment of a Jedi, and so he doesn’t bother. He needles and goads and teases and slowly Kenobi responds. This Kenobi, somehow, understands better how to teach Anakin to meditate, or perhaps Anakin himself, after so many memories, has finally found the knack. Obi-Wan stands in awe of Anakin’s ability to casually manipulate the Force during his engineering projects, and teaches him new ways to help him.

He divines Anakin’s crush on Padmé – for it seems that some things are the same in any universe – and teases him like a brother for it, before teaching him ways of sensing danger and defending himself and others.

They are not the rigorous lessons of a Jedi. He is not taught about a thousand systems he may never visit, about political tensions and Jedi history. He learns about using the Force, about engineering and piloting, and about Naboo. His friendship with Obi-Wan grows, and as it does, Obi-Wan’s grief finally diminishes, although it will never vanish entirely.

His friendship with Padmé also remains, and if anyone thinks it inappropriate, Anakin is willing enough to remind them who destroyed the droid control ship. People still love him for that, and he happily accepts their love and friendship.

He’s eighteen when Padmé runs for Queen again, and Obi-Wan leaves more often and for longer, and eventually returns with a padawan in tow, and Anakin cannot find it in himself to be jealous. Instead, he welcomes Peric Ulam, joking that they’re now stepbrothers of a sort, and then shows Obi-Wan his latest achievement.

Officially, he is never taught how to create or use a lightsaber. Unofficially, Obi-Wan teaches him anyway. Anakin is left to source the materials by himself.

When Padmé steps down from office as queen, she proposes to him, and Anakin accepts, delighted. When the new queen asks her to become their senator, she accepts, and Anakin goes with her, less delighted, but he loves her for her dedication and he would not deny her this, though he fears the dangers that may yet come.

He does not know if other parts of that other world are still true (clones, brothers, General Skywalker). He is interested in seeing the Jedi Temple once more.

The Jedi are equally interested in seeing him, and he makes appointments to meet with Yoda and Obi-Wan and Windu as his wife’s cruiser sails towards Coruscant.

He can feel the darkness in the Force before they touch-down, and he cannot help but continue to believe, suspect, to know that it centres on the Chancellor and his false kindness.

The Force roils around him, as he visits them, his uncertainty and confusion almost tangible as he sweeps towards his meeting in the formal Naboo robe Padmé insisted he wear to meet them, joking that he was her representative now.

He plans to say nothing, but the words slip from his mouth anyway: “Can you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The darkness, the doom.”

The acknowledge it, but they do nothing, and slowly things seem to unfold as they did in that other world, too like it for comfort.

His nightmares become reality when the first assassination attempt is made as the Separatist movement begins and Padmé protests against the Military Creation Act.

He tells the Jedi of his visions, of a threat within the Senate, and Dooku unwittingly confirms his suspicions.

(He and Padmé nearly die saving Obi-Wan. Thank the Suns for Peric.)

The Sith makes his plans, tries to lure Anakin into his alliance.

Anakin strikes first.

Chancellor Palpatine is killed by a Sith assassin, Anakin Skywalker grievously injured in his defence.

Bail Organa is sworn in as the new Supreme Chancellor.

The war is over in less than two years. Without the Sith controlling both sides of the war, the Confederacy falls, and Dooku was never trusted with the codes to trigger a Jedi massacre.

Anakin wonders if Dooku, even so far as he has fallen, would ever have been able to order it in the first place.

This time, when Padmé tells him she’s pregnant, she is only two months along, and they’re on a break in the Lake Country of Naboo. Two months later, on Coruscant, they throw a celebration for their family and friends. Anakin relishes Obi-Wan’s delight, his mother’s joy, his sister-in-law’s teasing.

He knows the galaxy still needs fixing. This time, though, it has greater hope.

The night the twins are born, he feels the Force sing, and he smiles, twin suns in his eyes. Perhaps it is time for this son of the Suns to return home and prove his Allies’ worth.