Work Text:
Anakin knew the consequences.
He had grown up in the Palace back when Gardulla had controlled the Tatooine branch of the Hutts empire. He knew what the rules were.
He had grown up with the clans governing every minute of his life. Gardulla, Jabba, it didn't really matter which Hutt was in charge; their word was law.
The best advice to any slave living under the Hutts was to keep their head down, to be as least visible as possible. Not to make a name for themselves.
Anakin knew this.
But he had never been very good at following it. Even before the Jedi turned up, he struggled at taking a low profile; he had been the only human to even compete in the pod races in hundreds of years. That had prompted… attention from the Hutts even at a young age.
The fact that he then dared to win one, the first human to do so ever on the Tatooine Races. Well, that had prompted more than attention. That had led to the Hutts' ire. The clan normally hedged their bets when it came to the races. As far as they were concerned, they did not care who won, as long as it earned them credits.
Anakin's victory… had lost them a lot of credits.
When the Jedi didn't come back for him, when he was left here, the Hutts made an offer Watto just couldn't refuse. Anakin had become the property of the Hutts again and had soon learnt just how displeased they were.
Yes, Anakin knew the consequences of falling on the wrong side of the Hutts.
He had recovered his standing in the subsequent ten years. A good mechanic was a good mechanic, no matter how much trouble they had caused the clan when they were a child. And once Anakin had accepted that Master Jinn was not returning, that there would be no Jedi coming to save him, he had learnt. He had kept his head down ever since, tried to cause as little trouble as possible.
Even then, though, trouble still seemed to happen adjacent to him. Be it the stumbling across wrecked ships when he had been sent out on supply runs to Mos Eisley or the frequent disappearance of his fellow slaves soon after he had mentioned them to his mother on the few days that he was allowed to visit. Or the one occasion, memorable for all the wrong reasons, when the entire stock of spare parts in the palaces hangers had vanished when he was on duty.
Despite his best efforts, he had never been successful in his attempts to keep a low profile. The Hutts had always kept an extra close eye on him.
Which altogether made his most recent actions particularly reckless.
But he couldn't help it. He had never become numb to the abuses he had witnessed in Jabba's court, and he had always struggled to just stand by the edge and watch them happen. It was an antithesis of all his instincts. It was against everything he had taught before he was brought back to the Palace, but his will to act had been beaten down over the years. He was ashamed at how many times he had done nothing.
This time though. Anakin just couldn't stop himself.
Allyn was only 15. When a Bounty Hunter had requested that she be given as his reward, he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't condemn her to whatever horrors ownership by that man would have subjected her to.
He spoke out.
And very effectively removed Allyn from anyone's attention in court.
Anakin moved, wincing as he pulled against his bruised ribs. The room was almost entirely dark. He didn't know where he was being kept in the Palace, but it was obviously very far underground.
He moved again, trying to find a way to get comfortable against the stone that made up all the surfaces within his cell. Every part of his body hurt. The lack of light within the room meant that he couldn't even see the severity of his wounds, all he knew was the pain. He desperately hoped it was only bruising. At least that couldn't heal wrong; if something was broken… then he was in dire trouble.
Jabba's minions' beating dished out the worst beating he had ever experienced. His outburst hadn't only angered the Hutts and the Bounty Hunters in court. Apparently, they all wanted to demonstrate it to him. It had felt like an age before he was dragged out of the throne room and left here.
Wherever here was.
He only hoped that it had been worth it. He hadn't been able to Allyn as he was dragged out. Hopefully, she had used the distraction to make herself scarce. The Bounty Hunter had to settle for a more monetary reward.
Anakin glanced around the room again. It could be night or day as far as he knew; there was no indication of time passing.
He sighed before closing his eyes. He might as well take this as some extra rest time. He was sure he would need it when something went wrong in the hangers, and he was dragged back out there.
He needed to enjoy his respite for as long as he could.
Anakin had never been left in the cells this long before.
Of course, he hadn't been able to track how long he'd actually been here, but he knew in his bones that it had been at least a day. It was possibly even longer if the stiffness in his limbs told him anything.
He never thought that he'd miss his small bunk in the corner of the workshop, but sitting on this cold stone, alone, with nothing but the sound of his breathing to accompany him, he was missing it. There wasn't even any sand down here; that was how deep he must be. It was beginning to drive him crazy.
The fact that he hadn't been called back to the hangers worried him. Typically there were about 5 mechanical issues within the Palace at a time. It was one of the reasons he had been kept so long. Sand got in everything and was corrosive; even if the technology was brand new, it only took a few cycles in the conditions of Tatooine before things started to go wrong. There should have been a list that filled several data pads worth of work for him to do by now. If the Hutts didn't want him for the job, then maybe they didn't need him at all. Maybe then…
No. It was useless going down that path. The Hutts were clearly trying to teach him a lesson. Again. That's all this was. He knew how useful he was. He was a skilled slave that would be far too difficult to replace for the Hutts to be willing to dispose of him.
They were just leaving him here to stew.
Which, he could admit, was definitely working.
He could only hope that there was enough technological chaos going on upstairs to remind them of his importance. Maybe it would mitigate the long term effect of his impudence if they had more difficulties without him.
That was the more comforting thought. It was definitely better than the alternative.
He tried to stand, but the ceiling was too low to reach his full height. He stood hunched over, attempting to stretch out his limbs as much as possible. The sliver of light coming from behind the dura-steel door gave him just enough light to just about make out the purpling of the bruises on his arms.
He could still move fine. That was good. That suggested nothing was permanently damaged.
He groaned as he sat back down, curling in on himself to fight off the chill coming from the stone.
They'd have to release him soon. They needed him.
He had to believe that.
Anakin was struggling to believe that.
He had been left. He had been left long enough to lose track of how long it had actually been. He had struggled to maintain his sleep cycles for a while, but soon he had lost even them. The only thing that marked any passing of time was food delivery, but even this seemed to follow no rhyme or reason. Or maybe it did, and he was just losing time.
Either was a possible option. He felt like he was going mad in this cave. He was never good in silence; his own thoughts were too loud. And he had nothing but them accompanying for who knows how long.
Clearly, he wasn't as crucial to the Hutts as he thought.
And if a slave wasn't necessary, then…
It was becoming more and more difficult not to follow those thoughts down to their obvious conclusion.
He missed his quarters. He even missed the moisture far where his mother now lived, that had never been home. Not to him. But compared to this, he still hankered after it. But more than anything else, he missed those small two rooms in the Mos Espa slave quarter. In many ways, he felt that his last night there was the last time he had ever felt actually safe.
And judging by how long he'd been left here, he would likely never feel safe again.
How long would it be before they just forgot to send any food down and left him to starve?
How many had been left down in these caves, forgotten by the world?
Anakin was jerked out of his morbid thoughts by a commotion outside the door. He pushed himself backwards, away from the door, so he was pressed against the back wall.
The door slid open.
Anakin felt his heart fall.
Filling the door were a collection of the Hutt's hands. Their violent enforcers. This wasn't someone coming to tell him to get back to work. If their enforcers were here, it meant his fate would get worse.
Terminally so.
They moved into the cell towards him.
He had no chance; three, no, four against one. There was no way he would get away from them, but his survival instincts kicked in.
He fought. He kicked and flailed, doing everything he could to try and get away from them. His fist made contact with the nose of one of them, and he fell away, only to be replaced by another even larger one. He caught Anakin's fist within his hand and yanked it behind his back. It was straightforward for the rest of them to subdue him with only one free arm.
He was led out into the tunnels with his hands cuffed behind his back. The halls were quiet. Anakin was thankful that at least there were not too many people here to witness his last walk.
He hoped someone would, though, if only to let his mother know of his fate. He didn't want her out there, waiting for a Comm or a visit that would never come.
He began to feel confused as he wasn't being led to the usual chambers where it was easy to dispose of the remains. Instead, He was being directed towards the entrance, towards the speeders.
His eyes hurt as he emerged into the desert day. The suns burnt down on his skin; he tried to appreciate it but was pushed towards a land speeder. There was an enclosed trailer behind it.
He was shunted forward into it, and the door was slammed behind him.
The floor began to shudder, and he was thrown backwards as the Speeder started to move.
This was… not good.
If they weren't planning on finishing off with a blaster bolt at the back of the Palace, then indeed, there was only one other option.
The Sarlacc pit.
They were public executions meant for those who had defrauded and cheated the Hutts. They were not generally used for wayward slaves. This was not the way Anakin wanted to go. His mum would definitely hear about this. He didn't want her to suffer like that, to know that her son had been sent there.
He glanced frantically around the trailer. Was there a way he could end it now? Anything, anything, would be better than the pit.
But there was nothing.
He could see nothing. There was no way to get out of it. The Pitts had been horror stories when he was a kid, the fact that he might face them…
His heart was beating rapidly, and his breathing was rapid. His chest felt tight.
He tried to calm himself down. There was no guarantee that this was actually going to happen. There could be other reasons for this.
Anakin couldn't imagine them, though.
As the Speeder continued to power, he was jostled and bumped around in the trailer. They were only designed to transport goods and were never intended to transport live cargo. It was not a comfortable way to travel.
He was thrown into one of the walls as the Speeder came to an abrupt halt.
The door at the back was thrown open, and arms reached him to drag him out.
He blinked several times as his eyes tried to adjust to the light.
And he felt ice run through his veins.
It wasn't the Sarlacc pit.
It was worse.
Slaves at his age were only sold for one kind of thing at places like this.
They didn't care about skills. They only cared about appearance.
This wasn't one of the marketplaces.
It was an auction.