Chapter Text
When Eren opened his eyes again, he had expected he would be in the unjudging abyss of hell. He had done it; he had slaughtered 80% of the population, just for the safety of the people of Paradis and allowing his friends to secure what would at least be a golden age of peace in the world. He was prepared to accept the sacrifice. One of his friends, Armin, had once summed it up best: "To defeat a monster, you have to be willing to throw aside your humanity."
It wasn't long before Eren's eyes opened again, and the form of a woman swam in his vision, her brown eyes conveying a deep love.
At him.
If this was hell, it was a strange one by design.
Soon, Eren would understand he wasn't in hell.
No, he was a fucking baby!
It was as if fate was laughing at him, for he was Eren Yeager no more. Save for his first name, Eren, his last name was now that of a different surname: Skywalker.
That was the day Eren Yeager was reborn into a different body. A different world altogether. He had a younger brother, Anakin Skywalker, and was a slave to some sand-infested planet called Tatooine. His new mother, Shmi Skywalker, had been enslaved.
It angered Eren. He was conscious throughout the entire ordeal when he and Anakin were implanted with a "slave chip," something that he'd heard the humanoid creatures above him talking about over Shmi Skywalker's pain. It infuriated him. Slavery disgusted him to the ends of the Earth.
Speaking of which...
Earth didn't seem to be the only planet in this new... world. There were thousands of worlds: similar to and different from Tatooine.
'If these spacers are able to leave this world...'
Despite Eren's fury against the unfairness of it all, something about the whole thing was strangely comforting. There were no talks of titans hungering to take human flesh. Humans weren't the only people here. Some were kind individuals who genuinely shared mercy upon the slaves. Others were harsher, careless about the suffering they'd inflicted as long as they could feel their empowerment.
Yes, Eren hated them all as much as he had done the titans, but being with Shmi and Anakin, without inheriting the Attack Titan and the power of it clouding his mind now, it would be a lie to say that the breaks, whenever Gardulla the Hutt and eventually Watto the Toydarian (and boy, that had been a shocker to learn there were more humanoid creatures and whatnot in this world) showed mercy upon them was the best kind of days...
The day he could call terrible was when Eren and Anakin had witnessed Gardulla eating a slave that had displeased her. Both Eren and Anakin had wanted to get involved, but couldn't, for it was too late. The days that followed, Eren's determination only hardened once more, much as it did after the death of his first mother. That poor slave didn't do anything aside from stepping out of place temporarily, and lost his life for it.
Yet, despite being a different person altogether, Eren made a vow to Anakin personally: to shield him from the pain. Whether it be beatings or terrible suffering, it was inconsequential to Eren as long as it stopped Anakin. He couldn't do much for his new mother yet, not with his small body, but disobedience allowed them to remove their attention from Anakin and onto the more "troubled" one of the two.
Eren took in every punishment without so much as a sob. His body may have been new to physical agony. He'd recalled every time he lost limbs, was impaled, obtained massive incinerations, crushing blows, head trauma, tendon tears, bone shatters, and had eye perforations. He had been through hell itself and returned to life.
This was next to nothing.
At the very least, his new body would be ready to be more reflective when it came to those who threatened Anakin's safety.
Eren had even heard discussions of planning to blow him up more than he could remember. But he had not been useful only to get himself into trouble. He was also good at work and did what was required. With that in mind, the slavers chose that beatings and grueling work, as well as food privileges being taken away, would have to suffice.
'Let them think I'm their property. I'll make them chew on those words, while also protecting Anakin from having to suffer from too early of an age.'
Anakin was too bright, too pure, and clearly wanted to shield him the same as his mother. But he didn't live the life Eren had. He hadn't lived with the cruelty of titans for nine years, hadn't watched his stepmother kill his mother, Thomas, Mina, the rest of his squad, Levi's Squad, and so many. There was likely no Zeke. Nobody here could help them except themselves. Although he had nightmares, sometimes waking out of bed in the middle of the night, here, there was nobody else but him and his thoughts. He didn't have to deal with those flashes of the unpreventable future or the images of those who might die in the process, despite his best efforts to change it.
"That latest beating was rough. I... are you okay, Eren?" Anakin's small voice asked one night after a long day of sweat and three beatings. Indeed, his new little brother was as intelligent as they came. He had been able to speak in complete sentences and showed signs of sensing things before they came.
Eren smiled through his teeth, blood and bruises marking his face, which thankfully didn't frighten Anakin away. "Don't worry, Anakin, those scum would never break me."
"I should hope not," Shmi Skywalker said, face scrunched in worry and concern over her oldest son. She grabbed his shoulders. "You have to learn to be more careful, Eren. I know you want to protect Anakin but..."
"I'm okay, Mom," Eren cut him off, meaning every word, as the woman was truly like a mother.
Eren once believed that Armin was completely right about him. He was a slave to freedom. Yet, Shmi Skywalker was an interesting contradiction. She had also gone out of her way to protect both of them, despite how her efforts failed when Eren diverted the slavers' attention to him and made them completely forget about Anakin.
Anakin reminded him of Armin in a way; he was a very determined boy and would be a strong man in no time if he'd continued at the rate he was going, but unlike his old friend, his younger brother was determined in the same way Eren was, and was anything but a pacifist.
He had seen that look of fury in his eyes every beating, the silent vow of retribution against them for daring to harm his older brother. Not that Eren could blame him much. Anyone who threatened to claim their freedom would be dealt with in time; fuck the slavers, fuck the Republic and Jedi Order who just let slavery proceed on, and fuck everything else.
He was going to bring a stop to this one day.
Through stealth, 7-year-old Eren had managed to smuggle away several grenades, also known as thermal detonators, for his assignment, and then detonated the sole tower that dominated them all.
"Watto, the slave transmissiona are still down," Eren stepped forward boldly. "Everybody in Mos Espa saw it going down in flames."
"A minor issue that will be resolved in due time. You don't have any choice but to follow my orders, you little brat!" The Toydarian started.
Eren produced a blaster pistol, much to the horror of the Toydarian. Flicking the activation switch, Eren let it be his one and only warning...
"Where did you—"
"You would be surprised to find out how much you can going to the cantina in Mos Espa," Eren responded, devoid of any emotion. "That's besides the point. I have bombs all around. You have starved all of us and beaten our mother and I for displeasing you long enough. We are not your slaves. You will free all of us, or I'll blow up the entire place," Eren proposed. "It's your choice to make, not mine."
"Oh, yeah," Watto paused. "What stops me f—"
"I was just getting to what you are asking about. Well, in case you have the idea to blow me up manually, the detonators are set up to blow if something fatal happens to me." They really weren't, but eh, what Watto didn't know didn't hurt.
Watto leered, "And how do I know that you aren't lying for your freedom, slave?"
"And if I'm not? Your entire place will be blown to the ground. You want to take that chance?"
"You will pay for this, boy."
"Threatening someone with the gun? You're braver than I'd thought."
Less than a few minutes later, the Skywalkers' chips were removed.
"I don't understand," Shmi stared at the Toydarian cautiously, rubbing the small scar on her neck. "Why are you doing this?"
"Erm—" Watto eyed Eren with faint uncertainty, who arched an eyebrow and a subtle shake of the head, before coming up with a conceiving enough lie: "You have done good work around the shop, eh? Felt like paying you back for your years of service. You are freed now."
It was sloppy, but the woman knew not to press. "Well, whatever the reason, Watto, thank you," she said sincerely. "Alright, Ani and Ere, do you two feel like going back home?"
"Really?" He double-checked, receiving a nod. "Well, yes, Mom, it's been forever since I could relax at home!"
"No, I want to stay here, Mom," Eren answered, ignoring the ache in his neck to focus on the job. "I'll be home in time for dinner."
"Alright, just be sure," Shmi nodded.
When the two were gone, Watto demanded, "What do you want now, you little devil?"
"I want you to transfer ownership of this shop, when you die, to my mother and brother," Eren declared.
"What? N—"
"It's a good shop," Eren admitted, fingering his weapon. "And you are forgetting again that I am the one holding the weapon."
"Fine!" Watto concurred.
It didn't take too long. All the Toydarian had to do was go to the back of his shop and submit a document towards the Hutt through a device in this world: a datapad. With the chance, Eren had secured the Skywalkers a future, as well as their freedom in what little time he could. It was all in a day's work.
"There? Happy now?" Watto asked furiously.
"Thrilled. Thanks, Watto," the 7-year-old answered, before aiming his blaster and shooting him right through the head. The Toydarian didn't even get a chance to blink. Eren's face was set as his body collapsed to the sandy ground. "See you in hell."
It was one hell of a gamble, one that endangered his entire new family, but Eren was a risky man. The work of a Devil was needed in Paradis, and something told him that an element of that would be needed in this new galaxy; Eren still needed to get used to that if they wanted to secure an era of peace.
Eren wanted to free more of the slaves, but he knew that would be much more complicated. If Floch, Rico, Hitch, Samuel, Daz, and all of the individuals who followed him were here, it would be much easier. But for now, Eren would need allies. It wasn't as frightening as it should have been. In Trost, he had presented many who had followed over to the scouts a new source of hope, and at any rate, he had been a veteran in another life; he knew that the consequence was that one just couldn't save everybody, no matter the effort.
He would need to wait until he was much older.
First, Watto's body had to be buried, all evidence of foreplay gone in the desert. Not that Eren believed it mattered to the Hutts; deaths and disappearances were common here on Tatooine. As long as they'd stayed in the Hutts' good books, Eren knew that they had nothing to fear.
Hopefully, Shmi wouldn't mind sudden ownership.
Qui-Gon's face beat another sweat at the merciless beatdown of Tatooine's suns. Hopefully, they would be able to find someone who could aid them in locating a proper hyperdrive so they would be able to get off the planet and make it back to Coruscant in time to warn the Jedi Council and the Senate about the issue on Naboo.
Jar Jar Binks was not the ideal consideration for a traveling companion. Though the interest of the queen proved to grab his attention, for she was accommodating them now, under the guise of a handmaiden named Padmé. Quite a clever idea if Qui-Gon did say so himself. The little droid was quite an intelligent one as well.
But even now, the Maverick Jedi Master had to shorten his strides so as not to leave his companions behind in the haste of movement as he eyed the name of a shop:
The Skywalker's Junkyard
The Force was nudging him in that direction, and Qui-Gon followed without question, feeling two powerful sensations. Inspecting as he'd entered, Qui-Gon could admit that the junk shop was... cleaner than he'd expected. Not to say that the place was completely immaculate. The few odds and ends lay about, with some working droids lazing around and a few others lying in pieces, combined with ship parts of all kinds expanding over each available flat surface. But by Tatooine's standards, from what Qui-Gon had perceived so far, it at least didn't look shady, and there was a sentient worker.
Or rather, two of them.
One was the older woman who was standing on the other side of the desk. "Hello, I can't say I've ever seen you before. Greetings, I'm Shmi Skywalker. This is my youngest son, Anakin Skywalker." She smiled at the boy, continuing to work on a small device with a screwdriver. "Ani, say hi."
"I'm busy, Mommm—"
"What have I told you about being kind to guests, young man?" Shmi asked, looking more amused than anything at the pointed stare from her son.
"Hi," Anakin finally said.
Even Qui-Gon had stifle a grin at the exchange.
"Sorry about that."
"No problem, I'm Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is Jar Jar Binks, R2-D2, and Padmé..." He stopped himself, not knowing Padmé's surname.
"Naberrie," Padmé finished for him. "Padmé Naberrie."
"Jedi?!" Anakin blabbered.
"Jedi, huh?" Shmi blinked. "Can't say that your type come here all the time. Matter must be urgent."
"It is," Qui-Gon didn't bother hiding.
"How can I help you, Master Jedi?" She asked respectfully.
"We are in search of a hyperdrive and our other ship parts," Qui-Gon arranged, producing a hologram.
Shmi frowned and inspected, "Nubian, hum?"
"You have what we need?"
"Yes, I do. But I do wonder, how do you plan to pay for this?"
"I have twenty thousand Republic dataries."
"I'm afraid Republic's credits are not useful out here," Shmi informed him.
"What, why?" Padmé asked, mildly irritated.
"I would be happy to give it to you, but I have a shop to run. I can't give you what you want."
Qui-Gon waved his hand. "Credits will do fine."
Shmi's face set in a frown. "No, they won't."
Qui-Gon's face fell, albeit slightly, and he waved his hand again. "Credits will do fine."
"Like I just said, they won't. Do you really think waving your hand together like some Jedi would change my stance?" The adult woman raised unimpressed eyebrows. "Time of being a shop owner causes you to have a stronger mind than when you are a slave. I'm speaking from experience. I would suggest you try that somewhere else."
"You used to be a slave?" Padmé blurted in surprise.
"Uhh, she's a person, and her name is Shmi," the boy, Anakin, objected with a defensive air about him, insulted about what he'd seemed to believe was the dehumanization of his mother.
"I'm sorry," Padmé apologized, looking shamefaced as she glanced at the boy before looking desperately back at the older woman. "But surely, there is something we can do! My people on Naboo are suffering! They are dying! That's why we need this!"
"I'm sorry, but the shop and my sons' futures are important," Shmi refused. "I can give you the other few parts and cover it on the house, but the hyperdrive is one of the highest prices of objects you can imagine in my shop."
"Please."
"..." That was their response.
"Mom, you did say that the biggest problem in this universe is nobody helps each other," Anakin contributed.
"Most options would take a few weeks to months," Shmi sighed, a deep contemplative look in her eyes. "However, there is one that would take two to three days. I am willing to give you the hyperdrive if you are willing to work for it. That way, it'll cover all the costs."
Padmé struggled over words, "Surely, there's—"
"That's the best I can do. You are not likely going to find someone else, and even if you do, they would be less reasonable than I am."
"We will consider your... proposal," Qui-Gon stated slowly, having to admit that it was fair for a crime-infested place like this. Worse, he couldn't blame the woman too much. A place like Tatooine demanded some element of greed if one was to survive. After all, overdependence on kindness could also lead to poverty, if not outright death.
"But why wouldn't you just give it to us? We would give you what you need for it afterwards." Padmé objected.
"What's happening to your people is tragic, and from the bottom of my heart, I truly am sorry," Shmi apologized sincerely, face softening. "But Tatooine is anything but fair. I've just met you. I can't give you something because you'd came in here and ask for it. It will set a bad example on my sons and I if you are spotted."
"Sorry about what?" Someone else walked in from the back. "What's going on?"
They'd turned to face a short young boy with messy dark brown hair, teal-emerald eyes...
'The cause of the second vergence,' Qui-Gon saw it clear as ever: the two boys' presences was amazingly powerful within the same proximity that it was a wonder that no Jedi have detected them.
"Eren, Jedi are here! With an angel!" Anakin reddened in the face at that proclamation.
"A what?" Both Eren and Padmé chorused in surprise.
"I mean... this is Padmé," Anakin introduced. "She's with a Jedi Master! Isn't it cool?!"
"A Jedi, you say?" Eren asked, his voice becoming cold. Borderline hostility and rage surrounded the boy. "I'd never thought that Jedi would be out here."
"Ere—" Shmi started.
"The Jedi and Republic abandoned us! Abandoned all of these slaves, Mom!" Eren replied sharply. "Their type shouldn't be welcomed here. I have nothing to say to them." And he walked away without awe and respect.
Qui-Gon blinked, noticing the difference between Anakin and Eren: one was enthusiastic to see a Jedi, and the other held him in a cold regard.
"Forgive him," Shmi said. "Eren always had loathed slavery."
"Didn't stop how he'd used to take the punishments for me," Anakin chimed in unhelpfully, a sad note in his voice.
"Punishments?" A chill seemingly shot down Padmé's gut at that implication. "But... what did he mean that the Republic doesn't help...? Outlaws are taken very seriously."
"The Republic doesn't exist out here," Shmi revealed. "We used to be slaves until we all were freed by the previous owner of this shop, who disappeared on the same day, Watto, two years ago. The shop isn't perfect, but it's home for us."
Eren needed time away from the shop for now after the uninvited guests popped out of nowhere. In a way, what he had heard of the Jedi and Republic from spacers reminded him of Marley. They were the dirty type who believed themselves better than them all, who sold out innocent lives other than to procure their so-called "golden age" without even a second thought.
No one should never have been slaves! This reminded him of the rage he'd felt for Frieda and the rest of the Reiss family. His first mother could have been saved if they'd used the power of the Founder to control the titans and overcome the hold that son of a bitch, Karl Fritz, who spread pacifism went on about!
The situation was similar here. If the Jedi and Republic truly gave a damn about the people they were protecting, things could have been different!
Eren sneered. It was funny that the Jedi were only around when they needed something! Such a thought led him to kick the sand as he collapsed and placed his hands on his head. According to the stories of the spacers, the Jedi's abilities detected sounds and threats before they even arrived, among many others that weren't yet known.
That made him think about himself and of Anakin, and he shivered in rage at the thought. The idea of the Jedi taking both him and his little brother and trying to turn them into detached pieces of shit, no different than Fritz, chilled him to the bone! He would kill them all before he had even thought about letting that happen, injuries and possibly getting himself killed again be damned!
"Tatooine is sparsely populated. If the trace is accurate, I will find them quickly, Master."
The two figures, hooded and cloaked in black robes, stood overlooking the vast cityscape of the Galactic Capital in the shadow of Coruscant. Tall skyscrapers shrouded over them, long endless lines of speeder traffic accelerated by them, and even though it was night, the life all around them bloomed just as it would during the day.
"Move against the Jedi first," Maul's master ordered, towering slightly over him as ever. The Sith Apprentice had to lift his head to stare at him. "You will then have no issue taking the Queen to Naboo to sign the treaty."
"At last, we will reveal ourselves to the Jedi. At last, we will have revenge." Worded as a question to the untrained ears, it may have been. But no, the Sith Master knew better. Although contingencies certainly existed in the case that the Jedi won, the Sith would rather shy away from using them. The Sith's Grand Plan had nearly suffered a major setback ten years ago as it was, thus explaining their necessity, of course.
"You have been well trained, my apprentice," the Sith Master acknowledged, surveying the major city ahead, dreaming of when it was all theirs for the taking. "Quell your animalistic instincts and remember not to underestimate our rivals, and they will never be able to challenge you."
"Yes, Lord Plagueis." Maul took that as his cue to depart. He lowered his head before turning on his heel and disappearing out of view, black robes billowing behind him.
Darth Plagueis remained.
The Muun Sith stared up at the stars, eyebrows flickering.
'I sense a shift. Can it be that unexpected presence from ten years ago, the one that was nearly... dimensional? The same that claimed Sidious's life by its mere arrival in the galaxy? The ritual's energy, meant to create a single life, instead perhaps ripping a hole in the very fabric of the Force? The tear that had conducted itself like a black hole of energy, funneling power from the ritual's casters? Is it coming among us at last after alluding my detection for so long?'
He'd reflected often on the events of the Grand Experiment; it was good thing that the Muun, as the Master, had spent decades preparing for that moment. Sidious, while powerful, was still an apprentice, his body and spirit unprepared to handle the backlash of a dramatic rift.
The Dark Lord was still rather furious about that boon, yet a true Sith was never entirely defenseless, and to honor the work of his deceased Apprentice, the Muun Sith had many plans for what was to come.