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Aside from a handful of initiates on a tour led by Jedi Master Aayla Secura, the Room of a Thousand Fountains was empty at this hour. The majestic greenhouse sheltered a trove of exotic flora and fauna from every corner of the galaxy, and the Force was positively singing from the beauty contained within it.
Anakin strolled across the mezzanine to a staircase that wove through a vertical garden of lush jungle plants and a bubbling waterfall. He descended to the third level, taking his time to breathe in the clean, slightly humid aroma of the orchids at the foot of the cobblestone walkway. Then he pivoted to his right, resuming his shortcut to the gym.
He smiled as he thought of his young padawans. Their joint training session with Obi-Wan was set to conclude in a few minutes, and he planned to take his charges to Coruscanti Burger Co. off Processional Way for a lunchtime treat.
Anakin had travelled everywhere—from the underground hideouts of the most populous planet to the farthest reaches of the outer rim. His missions had spanned war, diplomacy, and ultimately peace. Throughout his journeys, he had stepped foot in every known Force nexus and discovered artifacts that were previously lost to time. He had witnessed the most breathtaking sights imaginable, had succumbed to the false temptation of ultimate power, and had prevailed over the darkness infecting both the galaxy and himself.
And somewhere along the way, the Jedi Temple had become his home.
The Force flowed differently here—the light of every individual was easy to identify, yet combined into a beautiful, undiluted wave of pure energy.
He found comfort and solace in it, a feeling he’d never believed possible even a decade prior. But his padawans had softened him, melted away his harsh edges, taught him empathy and compassion. Because of them, Anakin was a better man.
It was those two brilliant Force signatures he sought, as familiar and life-giving to him as his breath or heartbeat. But as he tugged reverently on those beaming strings of light, he heard footsteps approach from behind him.
He turned around slowly, then frowned. A figure stood before him, the face hidden beneath the shadow of a black hood. The hilt of a lightsaber appeared. It activated, swathing the cobblestone in an emerald-green hue.
“And you are…?” Anakin asked, raising an eyebrow at the mysterious Force user who had materialized out of nowhere.
The figure laughed. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the sound was jarringly childlike—the thin, reedy voice of a ten-year-old boy. “I am your vengeance, Anakin Skywalker!”
The boy lunged forward, but Anakin was ready. His own blue lightsaber ignited and blocked his opponent’s aggressive strike with a one-handed parry. They continued like this for several minutes, exchanging swings and blocks, their blades humming through the warm, fragrant air. A light sheen of sweat coated Anakin’s forehead and nape of his neck—from experience, he knew the youth was similarly feeling the effects of their fierce duel.
A phantom slash to Anakin’s left thigh—a deft move that he swiftly rebuffed—surprised him, and he emitted a low whistle of appreciation. The boy’s overall talent impressed Anakin—his master had undoubtably taught him well.
Anakin quickly sidestepped a jab to the midsection, then countered with a sharp, decisive strike that shoved the boy off balance. As the youngling scrambled for stability, Anakin readjusted his position and held his weapon aloft.
“Do I at least get the pleasure of learning your name?” he asked once his breathing evened.
“Ha!” the boy replied with a scoff. He untied his cloak and dumped it on a patch of grass, revealing a youngling with golden blond hair, desert-tanned skin, and eyes the colour of the clearest blue sky. “You are the hero with no fear, a Jedi Master, the Chosen One who brought balance to the Force, revered far and wide…and you have not figured out who I am?”
When Anakin shrugged, the boy simply rolled his eyes and adopted the traditional Djem So stance.
“I am Darth Duck, your destiny!”
Anakin coughed to stifle his laughter. “Darth…Duck?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Yes!” he said with a whiney tinge. “Ducks are ferocious animals with an absolutely vicious wingspan that could knock a Gungan off his feet…plus, they can swim and fly! So, I would advise you not to underestimate me.”
A pair of fluorescent-feathered birds chirped from a nearby tree, as if in agreement, and Anakin smirked at the sight. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Darth Duck. Now show me what you got.”
The boy issued a mighty yell and leapt forward. Their lightsabers swerved and crisscrossed, until finally Anakin gained the upper hand, and with a flawless underhand manoeuvre, spun his opponent’s weapon out of his grip. Its green plasma retracted, and the metal hilt rolled into a flower bed out of reach.
“Do you yield?” Anakin asked, deactivating his blade. He stood over the youngling, who had fallen to his knees.
“Never!” the boy said defiantly, though a pout appeared on his lips.
“You are beaten, Darth Duck. It is useless to resist.”
The boy glared at him with an expression that reminded Anakin of a kitten mewling for milk. “I almost defeated you.”
Anakin hid his smile. “It was a good try for a Sith lord,” he said. “Now maybe if you had…”
A flurry of movement in Anakin’s peripheral vision grabbed his attention, and he stilled. The sounds of rustling fabric and steady footsteps drew closer, then stopped.
Anakin swiveled around to regard the intruder. It was another cloaked figure, this one shorter than the opponent he had just bested. A lightsaber with a blue blade—more lucent than his own—ignited in the right hand.
“You think you can defeat us?” the figure asked. Although young, her voice conveyed authority with its calm and neutral pitch.
“'Us?'” Anakin repeated. He glanced at the boy, now standing beside him, and then back at the source of the interruption. “And who might you be?”
The youngling pulled off her cloak and tossed it onto a nearby bench. Dark, waist-length hair piled neatly into a braided bun atop her head, and shrewd brown eyes stared back at him.
“It is I, Darth Leia!”
She thrust forward and Anakin was quick to respond. They battled, her form less assertive than Anakin’s previous opponent, though she compensated with a precision and acrobatic flare belying her youth. Meanwhile, the boy whooped and hollered and shouted his enthusiasm, leaving Anakin to question who he was rooting for.
The duel didn’t last quite as long. Anakin performed a dramatic flourish, then feigned a strike to the youngling’s shoulder. She attempted to block but realized the deception too late, and Anakin gently kicked the lightsaber out of her grip with his boot.
She watched her weapon roll away with a sulk. “That was a cheap shot.”
Anakin finally allowed a grin to widen his face. “I’ve taught you that sequence before, Leia. Seems like you need a refresher.”
Leia merely planted her hands on her hips as Luke bowled into him with a hug.
“We were pretty good, right dad?”
Anakin ruffled the shaggy hair and leaned down to kiss his son’s forehead. “The two of you demonstrated excellent skill and prowess. I’m proud of you both.”
His daughter snorted. “I’m sure you’ll agree that my lightsaber technique is superior to Luke’s anyway,” she said, lifting her chin. “It is befitting of my station as a politician-in-training. I’ll be the first—and best—Jedi senator in the history of the galaxy.”
“Hey! Dad said we were both good! And I’m gonna be the best Jedi pilot in the history of the galaxy!”
“Dad’s already the best Jedi pilot in the history of the galaxy, Luke!”
Sighing, Anakin rubbed his son’s back and held a placating hand out to Leia. Since he began training his twins, he had always tried to diffuse any rivalry between them—with varying success. The last thing any of them needed before lunch was a hunger-fueled sibling blowup, especially with Padmé at the Senate Building and unable to play the mediator. “As I said, you’re both excellent—equally, in fact. Leia, you’ll be the best Jedi senator and Luke, you’ll be the best Jedi pilot. So, my dear padawans, is it burger time?”
That, at least, led to cheers from his children, their tiff forgotten.
The twins grabbed their cloaks and lightsabers and followed Anakin out of the Room of a Thousand Fountains into a large foyer, steepled with marble columns and wall tapestries illustrating the heroic exploits of the Jedi through the ages. A turbolift deposited them to the ground floor of the Jedi Temple and onto Coruscant’s busiest street. All the while, Luke and Leia chatted excitedly about their morning activities and the Soresu spinning attack Obi-Wan taught them.
“By the way—where did you learn that phantom strike, son?” Anakin asked Luke later, as the trio sat in a corner booth with three Alderaanian nerf burger combos in front of them. He didn’t recall teaching the phantom strike to his son, and it wasn’t a move Obi-Wan favoured.
“Oh.” Luke bit into a fritzle fry, his face scrunched adorably in thought. “Gramma and Aunt Beru showed me.”
“What? When?”
“Over the holidays. We played Tatooine Rangers a lot.”
Anakin chewed thoughtfully as he remembered the complex children’s game from his younger days—it involved rounds of tag, play wrestling, and scavenging with a winner's ceremony at the end. But why was his mother encouraging it? And where would she and Beru have learned such a nimble manoeuvre? He’d have to confer with Cliegg and his stepbrother about setting appropriate rules for his visiting children.
Or perhaps he should add bouts of Tatooine Rangers to the curriculum—it could certainly enhance and introduce new techniques to their already comprehensive training regimen.
“Dad, how come you never taught us the phantom strike?” Leia asked seriously, prompting Luke to look at him with wide, inquisitive eyes.
“Because…” Anakin pondered as he sipped from his large soft drink. “It’s more important to learn how to use fries as lightsabers.”
“Yeah!”
His twins each picked up a fry and engaged in a mock battle that ended with them doubling over in laughter. Anakin chuckled and shook his head at their antics, though he discreetly filmed a short holoreel to show Padmé after she returned home from her senatorial duties.
Outside, Coruscant shimmered with the endless bustle of beings moving, living, and working in the galaxy’s capital. But inside the diner, time slowed just enough for Anakin to relax with his children, share a meal of greasy burgers and fries, and make memories he wouldn’t trade for anything.