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Anakin had been born in the desert. He was used to the heat of two suns beating down upon his back at all hours of the day. There wasn’t anything that could be done to cool one off with water as such a precious resource, so he was taught little ways to help in the long run.
Save whatever little water you have. Keep your mouth closed so your saliva doesn’t dry. Don’t cry, no matter the pain or sadness, you can’t afford the tears.
Anakn knew all these things, yet he couldn’t help sobbing as red-hot metal pressed towards his skin. He’d bumped into a customer after they’d come into Watto’s store. They hadn’t cared at first, even gathering a few of the things Anakin had dropped, but when they’d learned he was a slave their attitude had changed. They’d demanded payment for the ‘damage’ Anakin had caused them, though it was none at all-
Watto usually would have refused. The worst Anakin had done was the smudge of dirt now decorating their tunics, but they were rich and Watto ‘couldn’t lose’ their service. Or at least, that was the excuse he gave as Anakin was dragged off, his master unwilling to pay the fee and bartering for a punishment instead.
Anakin screamed as the rod pressed into the skin of his stomach. The more he gasped to bring air into his lungs the deeper he pressed the metal into his skin. There was no escape- Anakin made the mistake of looking down and caught a glimpse of his bubbling skin around it. It was bright red to match the metal burning him.
Anakin immediately tore his eyes from it as staring just seemed to heighten every feeling of pain. He bit his lip to stifle his sobs and only cried more as the hot taste of blood exploded on his tongue. The torture seemed never-ending- black spots started swimming in Anakin’s vision and he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t passed out already.
His entire body went lax as the metal was finally pulled from his skin. It felt like Anakin was trapped under the sand and vaguely he knew that the customer had left and his mother was coming towards him.
She gathered him up into her arms immediately and rocked them as she brought out their most prized possession: a tiny tube of salve, barely any healing properties but an immense relief to burns. Anakin cried as Shmi pushed out the smallest bit she could and spread it over the blistering, heated skin. He still flinched back at her gentlest touch, anything on his stomach causing a cascade of agony.
“I hate them,” Anakin sobbed into her tunic. Shmi ran her fingers through his hair and wiped away his tears after she finished applying the salve.
“Don’t say that, Ani,” she soothed. “Slavers are horrible people and deserving of it, and hate may keep you alive for a short while- but those fires will burn you up alongside them. I want you to survive, Ani-” and she pulled their foreheads together “-but more than that, I want to see you happy. As long as hate is larger in your heart than love and kindness, you will never truly live.”
Anakin kept crying as she carried him home. Normally he might argue against being treated like a child- he was seven, old enough to walk by himself- but now he just wanted his mother’s arms around him.
Anakin had been born in the desert. He was used to the heat of two suns beating down upon his back at all hours of the day. There was no need for fire on Tattooine, there was plenty from the suns themselves. For cooking, perhaps, but those were put out as soon as they could be.
There was never a fire like this on Tattoine- one for enjoyment and not necessity. Flames danced in his eyes as laughter filled his ears. The other padawans around him giggled to each other and themselves in the night as they ate and danced and told stories. Knights and masters talked to each other and laughed as well, and joy filled the air around him.
People were everywhere and everyone he knew was busy, so he stuck beside Obi-Wan. He kept sneaking glances at his master of nearly a year- he seemed happier here than he ever had alone with Anakin. He was talking to another Jedi, asking for something apparently- all he’d told Anakin was to stay in this spot for a moment.
Obi-Wan bowed slightly to the woman and made his way back to Obi-Wan with whatever he’d wanted in his arms. Anakin was curious- what did they need for a fore anyway- and stiffened as he saw the thin rods in his master’s arms.
Anakin froze as his master handed one to him. He looked down at it then up to Obi-Wan. Surely he didn’t expect Anakin to heat it himself, to be used on his own skin- and what had he done to get such a punishment, he couldn’t remember anything-
Obi-Wan, oblivious to Anakin’s internal battle, grabbed a white fluffy thing from a nearby bag and stuck it on the end of the stick.
“This is a marshmallow, it’s what the initiates over there are holding in the fire,” he said as he gathered some other things. “It’s what you use to make s’mores- they’re a traditional snack when holding a bonfire, you heat it up and put it between crackers and chocolate.”
Obi-Wan grabbed another stick and a marshmallow, then gestured for Anakin to follow. “We can make it together.”
Anakin was frozen. Obi-Wan wasn’t going to- it was for a snack? Anakin cursed himself. He’d seen spit roasts before, and this rod was too thin for a proper punishment anyway, but he couldn’t seem to stop his body from aching and his mind from panicking at the thought of being burned.
A slight cough caught his attention and Anakin hurried over to Obi-Wan’s side to sit beside him at the fire.
“So, first we’ll put the marshmallow in the fire. Not too close or it’ll be completely charred- though there are some who like that. Then we’ll wait until it's brown…”
Anakin dazed off as he followed Obi-Wan’s instructions. Watching the fire crackle and listening to the laughter around him, and hearing his master talk… Ankain leaned against Obi-Wan and after a moment, felt an arm wrap around him.
He was almost completely asleep when Obi-Wan shook him awake and handed him a snack with Anakin’s marshmallow inside.
“Eat it,” Obi-Wan said with a smile as he prepared his own.
Anakin smiled back and took the snack as he bit into the s’more. Sweetness exploded on his tongue and he thought back to his mother, all those years ago. Maybe here he could live.
Anakin had been born in the desert. He was used to the heat of two suns beating down upon his back at all hours of the day. It was nothing compared to the heat he felt now, along his body and in his heart.
“I hate you!”
“You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!”
Tears welled up in his eyes and immediately evaporated. Anakin screamed as the fires of Mustafar burned his clothing, his hair, his skin. He could feel his old burn aching as it was burnt again and the rest of his body with it. Ash coated his throat and his face and heat poured down his throat as he screamed in pain. But no matter what he felt it was nothing in comparison to the hate in his heart.
Through the pain muddling his mind, Anakin remembered what his mother had told him all those years ago. And as Obi-Wan turned away from him, leaving him to burn, Anakin turned from the ember of light still burning within him to embrace the dark.