Archive of Our Own

PRIVATE ENTRY
ANAKIN SKYWALKER’S PERSONAL DATAPAD SOLAR CYCLE, DAY 1 — ILUM OUTPOST

(AGE: 13 STANDARD YEARS OLD)

Padmé,

I don’t know why I’m writing this.

You’ll probably never see these words. You’re on Naboo, and I’m… all the way out here. I realise that Master Obi-Wan says I should write about my missions in the official Temple logs — but I just wanted you to be the first who hears it.

I always want to tell you first.

We landed on a planet called Ilum today for a ritual known as ‘The Gathering’. I’m here to find a kyber crystal and craft my first lightsaber. A few other padawans had warned me about snowfall here, but I never knew what they meant until the doors opened and everything turned white.

Not white like the marble halls of Theed Palace. No. It’s white like emptiness — as if somebody forgot to inject the world with colours.

Anyway. I figured this would be fun since I’d never experienced snow before and, from what I’ve learned, it just seems to be drops of frozen water all piled up together. Wet, sure, but fine.

Boy, little did I know. I stepped off our transport and the wind, Padmé. The wind hurts. It gets inside your ears and your eyes and somehow your bones. They might as well have been needles! I tried to say something, but the cold made my throat ache. Honestly… no one told me that it would be like the sandstorms back home.

Obi-Wan said “Steady, Anakin” in that usual way of his — as if I was being dramatic when I can assure you that I wasn’t. I think he might actually be cold-blooded his skin is probably made out of leather, with how he just kept walking forward.

I wondered if maybe the snow didn’t go straight into his boots like they did mine, but I was definitely soaked and freezing through every last layer covering my feet. I guess, in a way, it reminded me of particularly bad nights on Tatooine when I’d curl up between engines to stay warm. Have you ever felt the sort of cold that can make your bones sit too big in your body? Ilum is only worse because I hate having wet socks on.

Though I will say that the Force feels brighter here. Clearer, somehow, like it has more space to stretch in the sheer vastness drifting between each and every snowflake. One immediately understands why this is a sacred Jedi site.

Then, in the distance, we heard the perimeter alarm chime. A warning pulse that I initially thought was meant to alert Master Yoda of our arrival — but no, it turned out to be for a cluster of native creatures nosing around the outer sensors instead. Curious beings. You would love to have met them, Padmé. They had thick fur and bright eyes that catch the light like tiny kyber crystals themselves. Strangely, they didn’t seem afraid of us at all. Some even felt… familiar to me. I’d almost imagined a thread pulled taut between us.

We soon managed to coax them back toward a safer stretch along the ridge. It didn’t take much. Only patience. So much so that I felt it far too soon to say goodbye, but once we did? I wasn’t too grumpy anymore. Certainly not about the cold. Though that doesn’t mean the snow no longer annoys me with how it keeps trying to slow us down. I just consider it the way I do most lessons at the Temple: like another language everyone else already speaks fluently and I’m the one starting from scratch. Frustrating on one hand… and thus something I want to master even quicker. To prove I can. Maybe that’s what Ilum is trying to teach me right now; that not every obstacle is an enemy.

I expect Master Obi-Wan wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment, however. He always thinks I’m in way over my head — says that he’s got to be mindful about praise since too much of it will make me overconfident and reckless. You can imagine then that he had immediately pretended it wasn’t a big deal, us calming those massive creatures together.

Padmé, would you think less of me if I said I’d pretended it didn’t need to be one either? I don’t know. Maybe that’s just what Jedi do; act like the things they wish for aren’t important or that needing reassurance means you’re not ready.

It’s the opposite of everything my mother ever taught me. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. She would have made today very special. My first snow. My first Gathering. I keep trying to imagine what she’d say if she could see me here, but the truth is… I just miss her warmth. Her smile. I want to tell her that I’m trying my best.

I also miss you.

You once told me, back on the ship, how Naboo has winter every year too. Beautiful seasons with decorated trees and lakes that look like glass. Maybe someday I’ll see it with you — when I’m older and allowed to go where I choose. To stand somewhere cold that doesn’t feel quite as lonely. 

Regardless. I should probably stop here. My hands are shaking… because they’re freezing, obviously. It’s not at all because I’m nervous about going into the caves soon. Not at all. It doesn’t matter, either way. Writing helps. Talking to you, even like this when I know you’ll never see it, helps more.

I hope you’re well tonight. I wonder what you’re doing right now — whether you’re helping someone or laughing with your handmaidens. I’d like to imagine that you’re warm and happy. It makes this place feel a little less empty.

Whatever and wherever has the privilege of your attention, I hope the Force is with you.

I hope the galaxy is kind to you.

… and I hope I’ll someday get to tell you all that I’ve written here — not in secret, but out loud.

— Anakin