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distortionbobble · 7 months ago

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Royal Flowers Chapter 13: Finale

series masterlist

a/n (links to a separate post since this is my last chapter of this series)

pairing: anakin skywalker x f!reader

series summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and adopted cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands.

Your words brand into Anakin’s skull. Nothing but allies. Nothing but allies, nothing but allies, nothingbutalliesnothingbutalliesnothingbutallies. You’re right. How did he forget that? This isn’t permanent. Any freedom he might have felt with you is a falsehood. He’s shackled to the Jedi Order. He is the Chosen One, and you were just a distraction. He understands now, what it means to be the Chosen One; he must give, and give, until there is nothing left of him. Nothing is his to keep, and yet everything is his to lose.

His judgment was clouded, but now you have brought him clarity. How could he have forgotten his purpose? To bring justice to the Force by annihilating the Sith. There cannot be peace, nor justice, while they are allowed to exist. He understands it all now. He is the Chosen One, and thus the universe’s fate rests in his hands, and his alone. He could bring safety, security, but he just needs to get the Sith out of the way.

Anakin smiles bitterly. It’ll all be his, and he can do it justice. His hatred of you makes it all clear where it was once blurred.

His mind circles back to what Sidious had said earlier. To wipe out the Jedi Order. How was it that Sidious believed that plan would be fruitful? He is no fool, there’s no chance that Sidious had somehow… forgotten that the entirety of the Clone Army was there to defend the Order. There simply wasn’t enough manpower. Anakin takes no interest in the destruction of his people now. He does not need to save you, as you reminded him. But Sidious’ threat is no idle chatter. It means something, and he needs to understand why.

Anakin moves quickly through the building, drawn to Sidious by the spider-like Force thread linking the two of them. Anakin considers himself lucky— the emotions that you inspire within him, the anger and desire that you’ve now quelled, only served to make his case stronger to Palpatine. He was a mess, wasn’t he? But now he’s in control. His emotional disconnect can only make him stronger, that’s what the Jedi taught him. He can do it. He can be the perfect Jedi now. Violent fantasies race through him— he dreams of slicing Sheev Palpatine’s head clean from his body, of suffocating the man in his sleep. He dreams of doing it when Palpatine cannot fight, dreams of ending him the way Palpatine ended so many lives before— in violence, in bloodshed.

This is the Jedi Way, is it not? And he can only thank you for bringing him back to the light, with your callous manner of shattering his heart.

No matter. Anakin knows to suppress his feelings, as the Jedi are advised to do.

Sidious is never hard to find for Anakin. Always lurking around some dark corner, always ready to coax Anakin to him.

“Master,” Anakin calls to Sidious, but he shakes his head quickly, scanning the corridor for any audience before pulling Anakin aside.

“What is it, Anakin?”

“This feeling of… of dread that drowned me over the death of my wife has vanished. It seems as though I have found grace through my pursuit of… ” Anakin’s confession trails off. Sidious knows what he’s referencing, anyways. It’s not fully a lie, the feeling truly is gone, but maybe that’s because you broke his heart. Or maybe not. There’s been something strange about all of this, about how the visions of your violent end only began when Palpatine saw him. Perhaps Sidious had been fanning the flames of his hungry desire, perhaps it was all manufactured.

Or perhaps not.

“Earlier today,” Anakin says, “you told me the cost of my enlightenment.”

SIdious nods. Anakin sees greed unmasked in his eyes, and for a second, he is disgusted— this is the being who had manipulated him? His drive for love, was it all Sidious? The Chosen One, being distracted by this lowly being.

He continues.

“The Clones. The Jedi outnumber us with their Clone Army, how is it that I am to purge the Temple of the shackled younglings if there are Jedi and Clones that could strike me down so easily?”

Sidious smiles. Anakin can see the lines on his face— the clear marking of evil itself, inspiring such hatred within him that it almost blinds his vision.

“Not much escapes you, my apprentice.” Sidious’ voice curls around Anakin’s shoulders, sitting snakelike on his shoulders as he almost struggles to breathe. Can he tell? The Sith deal with lies, absolutes, this line that Anakin toes in his pursuit to bring them down. It is not Anakin’s strength.

“You needn’t worry about them, Darth Vader,” Sidious’ name strikes Anakin deep in his soul. It scares him that there is a response to it; a recognition, deep within Anakin, one that wants power. And he would use that power for good, wouldn’t he? After all, the Jedi were more than happy with allowing him and his mother to remain slaves. It was under their galactic control that Shmi spent most of her life as a slave, only freed by a man that wanted to marry her. In Anakin’s mind, it was simple— perhaps the Jedi were wrong too, just as wrong as Sidious. If Anakin just took a fraction of the power that the Sith before him held, he could execute that power. He could save everyone.

After all, what weight does the blood of a few younglings hold in the balance of the rest of the universe? It would be for the greater good. It wasn’t as though Anakin hadn’t done the same thing years before— he had massacred the Sand People’s children, all in an effort to bring peace. To prevent another experiencing what Shmi had. His thoughts keep spiraling as he stalks away from Sidious, vortexing in his mind as thoughts of violence, of anger, rise above the storm.

There is a war in Anakin Skywalker’s mind, and he is losing it.

~~~

You lied to Anakin.

Of course he is more than an ally to you. You have had no one for so long, been so alone that you didn’t even know the image in the mirror. It wasn’t that Anakin was your consort, or that you had a sexual or romantic connection. No, you had something beyond that with Anakin. It was your lifeline, and you felt as though you were choking on it now.

But it is too late now. Better off this way, anyways— you’ve grown attached to Anakin, in a manner that resembles the way the moonlight needs the suns. Codependent, as though you are nothing without him. And when he is gone, when he returns to the Jedi, you will be left with nothing. As always. Your time is short, limited— you wish just as much to spare Anakin whatever grief he may feel from your loss. You wonder if it’s selfish to hope he does feel that loss still.

Your rationality does nothing to soothe your wounded heart as you clutch at your chest and heave, your pain taking a physical manifestation as everything begins to sink in. Your limited days, the fear of your death, and your worries for everything that you will leave behind.

Maker, you almost forgot about Padme. You need to get to her, to warn her— she’s in danger, always was, but maybe she can watch closely. She doesn’t even know that it’s Palpatine, does she?

Your body feels as though it’s fighting you as you make your way to Padme’s wing. Your blood pumps sluggishly, your mouth dry and your bones aching as you fight to get to her room. You don’t understand what’s happening. You were fine just moments earlier, but now, it feels as though there is something leaching from your soul, feeding on your energy parasitically. It feels as though it takes eons to reach Padme’s door, draining you with each step you take. You pound on her door, not even bothering to address her maids as you shove past them and collapse in her arms.

“Padme,” you sob, burying your face into her neck. She embraces you tenderly; mother, sister, cousin, friend, she will always be whatever you need.

“Sweetheart,” she whispers, shooing everyone out of the room with one hand as she holds you still.

“I’m too young to die,” you cry out, bursting into tears as you shake. “I don’t want to, Padme, but they’ll do it. And I- I need to tell you,” you gasp, standing straight. “Padme, you were right. It’s Chancellor Palpatine, it’s him— he’s Sidious. He’s been planning everything out.”

“Oh, no,” she whispers. “What about Anakin?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. You take your head in your hands as you think of the last words you spoke to him. You think of the way they cut through your throat, through your tongue until at last they cut through Anakin. Hurting both you and him at the same time. “Padme, they’re going to try to kill you. You’re the only hope for the galaxy. With all the trauma that the people of the galaxy will endure, it’s only natural that they would turn to someone they trust, that they know can deliver them salvation. You’re one of the most beloved Senators, and you were a beloved Queen. They will try to kill you,” you explain, tearing at a seam in your anxiousness.

“That’s nothing new,” She sighs, easing you to the settee as she sits next to you. “No, no… it is. They’ll triple their efforts. They won’t stop til you’re dead. I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this, Padme.” Your hands are shaking when she takes them in her own, kissing the side of your head as you both process it all.

“The Separatists are planning on getting rid of me. Did I ever tell you that?” You ask Padme. “I have been frantically trying to arrange for Naboo’s welfare, but I need you to know. I need you to prepare. You’re the only one I trust,” you whisper.

“Did you tell Anakin?” Padme asks. It makes you pause. Surely he knew, right? But then you think for a second longer. You knew the Separatists were planning on killing you. You took it as an eventuality, really; in your line of work, it was luck that allowed you to survive so long. You welcomed your death, in a sense, even if you fear it— it was something that you knew to anticipate. But those nightmares that Anakin had of losing you, it must have stemmed from the fact that he didn’t know. He didn’t know your death was an inevitability, approaching quickly. You shake your head.

“Good. Listen, I don’t— there’s something I need to tell you,” Padme says, pulling away from your side. She’s unable to meet your eyes.

“What is it, Padme?”

“You must listen to me, and understand that whatever I did, I knew that Anakin would never hurt you. Never.”

“You’re scaring me—”

“Listen. Listen to me. I never told you the reason I left, because you trusted my judgment so deeply. It was some time into his assignment with me. He and I cared about each other deeply, so deeply that it hurt to be apart from him. He got these visions, terrible visions, of his mother suffering and in pain. He couldn’t separate himself from these visions. They consumed him, truly, and I knew we had no choice but to go directly to Tatooine itself. I followed him there, you see. We found out that his mother had been freed, but was lost. Disappeared. The Lars man said she had disappeared at the hands of the Sand Raiders. Anakin tracked them down, found them. And…”

“And what?” You ask, your throat dry. Padme looks at you, face lined with pain. You knew what she was going to say before she did. You knew the rage that Anakin carried all this time, you knew that something that terrible would only turn him into a weapon.

“Anakin hadn’t seen his mother for years. He saw her as larger-than-life, just like a child that never got to see his mother with anything more than reverence. The Jedi Order took him away. He never had a chance, do you see? Seeing his mother like that… something broke in him. Something that had bent and bent until it had no give, and it shattered him.”

Padme pauses. Her fists clench and release, balancing her tension and some other emotion you can’t quite place. And when she looks at you with red flaring in her cheeks and forehead, you understand it clearly.

Shame.

“He killed them all.”

“What?” You’re in shock. You knew it was coming, but somehow, this feels worse. Confirmation of the monster that lurks in Anakin. A monster that must only be fed by Palpatine’s manipulations.

“Every last woman and child. He killed them all, and rationalized it in the same breath. There is a darkness lurking in him, my dearest. It scared me. I couldn’t see him the same, so… I left.”

“Oh, Maker,” You gasp as it overwhelms you. “Padme, I- he, oh, no,” you whimper. “No, no, he’s joined the Sith. I know the Sith, they’ll have him do something horrible, and I fear he might just do it. Padme, oh, I need to get to him.”

“Go,” she whispers, urging you out. “Go, and save him from himself.”

~~~

You’re a wreck as you make your way to your shared bedchambers. You hope he’s there, but even if he isn’t, you’ll tear Coruscant apart before you let him go about this battle alone. What he did was wrong. It terrifies you, the level of rage that he had in order to massacre innocents. It goes against the Anakin you know, the values that he holds.

But more importantly, you understand that he needs help. He needs help, and you’re probably the only person who understands that.

You fling open the door to find Anakin standing there, head tilted down as he stares out the window. Night is beginning to set, casting Anakin in dark shadows. He is swallowed by the darkness, but you can still see a sliver of light on his face. There is still light in him, you know.

“I hate you,” Anakin seethes quietly. He doesn’t bother to look at you, flicking with the lightsaber in his hand as he sets his focus on the world outside.

“And I love you,” You respond, just as quietly. You stalk towards him, quiet and careful. It feels as though you are approaching a wild animal, fearful that any sudden movement will end up with both of you losing your lives.

“No, you don’t. You said so yourself.”

“I lied, Anakin. I was afraid, didn't you see? I’m not excusing what I did. I should have been honest with you, should have told you that I didn’t have a choice outside of falling hopelessly for you from the very first moment I saw you. You’re my husband, Anakin. There’s a reason I still let this chain sit on my wrist. It’s because I love you, Anakin, I see you as my comfort and safety and the reason I want to make this galaxy a better place.”

“You were afraid of me, and you call that love?” Anakin scoffs. You shake your head in response.

“No. No, Anakin, I knew that the Separatists were going to kill me soon. You’re valuable, someone that the Jedi will avenge and now the Sith wouldn’t dream of killing you anyways. But me? I’m a wrench in their plans. We knew that I didn’t have long after we saw Arus, remember? I was afraid of failing, Anakin. I’m not like you, or Padme— I’m not destined for greatness. I have lived the life of a spy, every single worthwhile thing I’ve done going unnoticed in the shadows. As it must. But I had a responsibility to the people of Naboo. What was the use of finding out the Separatists’ plan if I wasn’t going to act on it?”

Anakin looks at you now, some of that anger beginning to fade as he looks at you. Truly looks at you. You wonder if he understands you and what he’s thinking about.

You press on.

“I love you. I was so scared to admit it, Anakin, because you’re the only person that I’ve ever really had. I wanted something permanent with you, Anakin, I wanted something that you could never give you. I still do. I want a love that lasts into our last years, I want to argue with you over the mundane things, I want to wake up to you every day. Anakin, please listen to me, I love you. You’re the best thing that my life has given me, and I was so terrified.” Your voice catches on the last word. There’s a lump in your throat that you’re fighting past as truth spills off your tongue and through your teeth. The raw verity is unfamiliar to you as you fight your learned habits of lying. Part of you wants to run, still, to take your truths and shove them between the darknesses of the stars. It’s what you know, and it’s hard to fight that nature.

“You don’t love me,” Anakin’s voice turns hard. “You don’t know the things I’ve done. If you did, I know you would abandon me. Just like the others. They always leave me in the end.”

“No, Anakin,” you murmur, grasping his hand in your own and kissing his knuckles gently. “I know the things you’ve done. You don’t scare me, Anakin. My love is here, still. But…” Anakin’s hand grows stiff in yours. It doesn’t stop you. “But I don’t think what happened was okay. I love you, and I don’t think it was okay. I’m not leaving. I see goodness in you, a goodness that is inherent to you. Please don’t fight it, Anakin.”

“You know about the Sand People?” You nod at his question.

He looks at you hard, as though he is testing you. Waiting for you to slip up, to give him an excuse to call it all a lie. But he won’t find anything. It’s the truth. You don’t want to have him do what he did ever again, to hurt innocents in his rage, but you don’t see it as only his wrongdoing.

You reach a trembling hand to his face, brushing locks of his hair away from his eyes and stroking his cheek. He turns into your hand almost subconsciously, resting his cheek in your palm as he studies you. He finds something there, some answer that he needed that allows him to relax. He pulls your hand away from his face with his flesh hand, placing a hand on the nape of your neck and bringing him to you.

You’re just a hair away from him now, close enough that you can feel his breath mix with yours.

“You love me?” he asks you.

“I love you.”

He’s hesitant as he brings his mouth to yours. There is no pretense here, nothing that either of you can hide behind. This is open and plain, honest feelings that leave you bare and at his mercy, and him at your mercy. The skin of your lips ignites when they finally meet Anakin’s lips, moving so softly that it ignites the nerves mapping each cell of your lips. You savor it, the sweetness, but it feels so delicate that you fear moving in case you destroy it. Kissing Anakin like this feels like connection. As though there is a bond between your souls that you’re finally allowing to grow. You smile slightly as he toys with your wedding chain, twisting it against his own.

“My sweet wife,” he whispers. Yes, you want to scream it. Yes, I am yours.

Anakin’s back straightens suddenly. You can feel that rage back inside of him, threatening to burst again.

“You love me,” He says sharply. It no longer feels as though he is making you promise him. No, this feels… dangerous. “The Sith were going to take you away from me,” Anakin seethes.

“Anakin, no,” You object. He pays you no heed, pacing back and forth as his anger brews.

“They were going to kill you. They were going to hurt you, the way they showed me in my dreams. I can’t let that happen, you see? I need to kill Sheev Palpatine,” Anakin growls. You jump forward at him, pulling his arm back as he tries to muscle his way towards the door.

“If you’re going to kill him, you’ll need to kill me first,” you state, throwing yourself in front of him. He pauses. “I can’t let you do this, Anakin. I can’t watch you throw yourself into the darkness, instead of cultivating the light within you. No, Anakin, let someone else do it. Don’t give into the anger, and hatred, just let me love you and keep you safe. Call Obi-Wan, or Mace, or any other Jedi that can handle this.”

“They’ll just take the credit from me. They’re all jealous of me,” Anakin hisses.

“So let them. Leave the Order. We could be happy together, Anakin,” you whisper. “You won’t have your glory, or your power, but you’ll have me. You’ll have me even when you’re sick of me. Leave the Order, let them have the credit, just don’t let your anger swallow you whole.”

“You’re lying, you’re with them and want to watch me fail,” Anakin accuses you, shoving you slightly as he fights towards the door. You grab his arm, twisting it so that the handle of his lightsaber sits at your stomach.

“Do it, then,” you challenge him. “I don’t want to die, Anakin. But if I need to die in order to keep you safe, then so be it. My life is in your hands, Anakin, and I wouldn’t trust it in anyone else’s.” He won’t do it. You’re sure he won’t do it. But there’s that small part of you that doubts, that fears that he’ll decide to switch that lightsaber and let you die at his hands. You just hope that it would be enough to stop him.

He hesitates for a moment. His eyes flash indecipherably, chest heaving as he breathes. The saber is cold even through your clothes. You wonder if it’ll be warm when you die.

The thought almost makes you sob. Maker, you don’t want to die. You don’t want to die at Anakin’s hands, least of all. This life has been so cruel to the both of you. And when you finally found one another, you regret that it just might have been too late.

As soon as your fear enters you, Anakin tosses the lightsaber away. Sweeps you into his arms, holding you tightly as he begins to sob.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Anakin cries into your neck.

“I’m here. I’m here, Anakin. It’s okay.”

Anakin’s cyclic inhale-exhale lets you breathe, too. Then he speaks.

“I’ll call Obi-Wan. Tell the Order to handle it.“

It’s over. The danger’s over.

~~~

After Anakin called the other Jedi Knights, they dealt with the matter swiftly. The following days had been a whirlwind of fury and anxiety as Separatist allies and spies were exposed across the galaxy. Turmoil was threatening to break across the galaxy, and the Jedi themselves were preoccupied with preventing the Clones from turning. Deprogramming, they called it. That was what Palpatine had been talking about when he said not to worry about the clones.

Anakin feels a sense of relief. Many of those clones were akin to brothers to him. Even if they were seen as dispensable, near-identical weapons, they were each different. He thinks of his own team, of Rex’s begrudging respect and the rapport they eventually built. There is a relief to it. He feels as though he is seeing the end of a nightmare that has plagued him all his life.

Padme has been instrumental as the Republic tears into itself. Preventing it from total collapse with her guidance, allowing democracy to guide her even as everything rots around her. Anakin realizes that he’s happy for her, really. This is what she wanted. She always placed the good of the Republic as equal to her own wellbeing, and it was her life’s aim to see peace within her lifetime. He knows that peace will follow this soon.

With all that he has gained, Anakin can’t help but think of what he has lost. In his absence, the Jedi had persecuted Ahsoka relentlessly. Anakin knew that Ahsoka was innocent. In the days following Palpatine’s arrest, he had worked tirelessly, finding that it was Jedi Barriss Offee behind the attacks. It was too much for Ahsoka to bear. She left the Order, walked away in the same way that Anakin is planning to. A wound that’s still raw.

As for you, you haven’t left his side since Palpatine was arrested. The bond you have is new, shy— you’ve been married for so long, but this is the first time that you’re honest with each other. It’s exciting, new, and something that he isn’t obsessing over. You showed him that you wouldn’t enable him whilst loving him unconditionally. You were willing to die for him, after all. Whatever it is, you’ll find it out together.

He trusts you.

Which is why he’s doing what he’s doing.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin calls out, jogging towards his mentor in the familiar walls of the Jedi Temple.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says in surprise before Anakin crushes him with the force of his hug. “Anakin.”

“I missed you, Master,” Anakin says. He holds Obi-Wan tightly, steeling himself before he steps back. “Obi-Wan, there is so much I need to tell you. To say to you. And I’m afraid I’ll never get the chance.”

Obi-Wan looks at him with a sort of curious acceptance, and the weight of a thousand words unsaid sits between them. It is because of his love for Obi-Wan that Anakin speaks again.

“You’ve fulfilled many roles in my life. Master, Brother, Father. Responsibilities that I couldn’t imagine bearing the burden of. And because of it, our relationship hasn’t always been…”

“I understand,” Obi-Wan says quietly, as though the acknowledgement of it out-loud hurts him. “I love you, Anakin. I truly do.”

“And I love you, Obi-Wan. You are my brother, who shaped me as I grew…which is why I need you to call the Council.”

“What for?”

“I need to hold a trial. I have committed an atrocity.”

~~~

“You massacred the Sand People,” Mace Windu repeats in disbelief. Obi-Wan hides his face in his hands as he fights back tears. Anakin is filled with shame, burning through his body, but he can’t stop. This is what’s right.

“Yes.”

“Anakin, please, just— it can’t be his fault. Master Yoda, we know that Darth Sidious was grooming Anakin, manipulating him this whole time. We can’t abandon him,” Obi-Wan argues, his voice building as he grows frustrated. Anakin almost smiles. It’s funny; he never really saw how much Obi-Wan loved him until now. He sees it clearly, the way that Obi-Wan tries to bend his beliefs just so that Anakin can fit in.

“I accept full accountability,” Anakin repeats, holding his head high. His saber sits before him on the floor, taunting him as it beckons for him to wield it. Don’t leave, it calls. Stay here, wield power and be great. He’s done listening to it.

The Council falls silent as Yoda leans forward, holding up a single hand as he surveys Anakin for a long time.

“Always a darkness within you, there was,” He says finally. “My fault for allowing it to get to this point, it was.”

Anakin closes his eyes. He never imagined it would be so painful to hear his Masters, mentors, admit that they failed him.

“A good man, you are. But a Jedi, you are not.” Yoda states with a finality.

“Master Yoda, please, I urge you to reconsider,” Obi-Wan pleads. Begs. It hurts Anakin to see him this way.

“No, Obi-Wan. This is what I want.”

“It can’t be!”

“It’s what’s right.”

“We could pardon you, still,” Master Windu interjects. “You’ve done so much for the Order, it only seems right.” Anakin shakes his head at this.

“I’ll always be indebted to the Jedi Order. But it ends here. I can’t accept your pardons.”

“Do you understand what you’re saying, Anakin?” Obi-Wan urges. His eyes are glassy as he looks at Anakin.

“It isn’t your fault. You won’t lose me, brother,” Anakin says softly. “But it’s not right for me to be a Jedi any longer. I’ve committed an atrocity. I need to be exiled. It’s only right.”

“You’re certain this is right?” Master Shaak Ti asks Anakin. He nods tightly in response. “Then it’s settled. Five years of exile in the Agricultural Corps. You’ll be monitored, but you’ll have access to support. We can get you help, Anakin.”

“I’d like that,” Anakin states. He closes his eyes.

“Of your title as a Jedi Knight, I strip you,” Yoda decrees. His whole life, stripped of him in a matter of an hour, and yet the only thing Anakin feels is peace.

“I accept my sentence,” Anakin says.

~~~

Five years passed quickly. During this time, Anakin forged a new way of using the Force for himself. Learned to walk the balance between the light and the dark. It gave him to process, to think. He thought about his relationship with Obi-Wan, the struggle that his brother faced as he tried to raise a child when he himself was still immature. It had never been fair to Anakin, or to Obi-Wan. Anakin imagines that under Qui-Gonn, their futures could have been so brilliant. It still hurts to think about most days.

Other days, he thought of Padme. Of the consuming nature of their relationship, how it swallowed him and left him no room to breathe. They were never good for each other. Corrosive, pushing each other to worse depths as they spiraled in their loneliness.

He tries not to think of you. He’s grown a lot since he first went into exile, but the thought of losing you still hurts. However, he’s learned to accept the things out of his control, and to love without needing to be loved reciprocally. He will offer his heart up to you, beating and bloody, but he will not expect you to do the same. Nor will he accept you to take it. Just the act of offering it is enough for him, now.

As Anakin steps off of the transport back onto Coruscant, he spots you almost immediately. You haven’t changed in five years, but you look a little wearier. His anxieties all dissipate as he watches your face when you see him, the way your face glows from within and the speed at which you launch yourself into his arms.

“You waited for me,” he says in disbelief.

“For you, Anakin Skywalker, I’d wait for a thousand exiles,” you respond, cradling his face between your palms and kissing him gently. And he understands, with perfect clarity, that he’ll be alright.

You’ll both be alright.

#my writing #distortionbobble's fics #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin x reader #star wars fic #royal flowers #royal flowers update #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader #canon x reader

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distortionbobble · 1 year ago

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Royal Flowers Chapter 12

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pairing: anakin skywalker x f!reader

warnings: minors dni. masturbation scene (m), but other than that nothing too spicy.

a/n: come get y'alls juice. also i can't find the gif i was using of anakin so just like. remember what he looks like i guess. he's pretty if that helps

When you wake up, you feel like you’ve swallowed a stone. You remember everything— every excruciating detail, each moment that his skin was pressed against yours. You try your best to recollect everything that was said yesterday, but it feels fruitless. Your mind has already rewritten each word ten times, translating and shifting and switching until the meaning is entirely different. Did Anakin say “I need you” or “I need this”? If he had said “you”, did he mean anything by it, or were you the first person that he could trust with this? The only? Something strange and all-too familiar crawls out from your stomach.

Guilt. You’re not even sure if Anakin wanted you the way you wanted him, and the words he first spoke to you scream themselves loudly in your head. I love Padme, and I’ll love her til I die. You were just a means to an end, and you’re sure that you should have known that as you took pleasure from his touch on your body. You’re no stranger to desire, to the heat of another’s body, but it’s never been someone you’ve wanted as much as Anakin.

And at the same time, you understand fully that it wasn’t just you. What you and Anakin have is bigger than just what happened last night; it’s been working up for months, an ocean of desire eroding your reasons to resist until you caved, gave into the sweetness of his mouth on yours, sweeter and softer than you could have ever imagined. The way that fell in the force of his desperation to something all-consuming, something that carved away a piece of your soul and kept it in the confines of the night, sacrificed at the altar of your memory. Your self-indulgence feels rotting, pushing unease into your throat and you can no longer lay here with your tattered dress cocooning your body. No matter what it is, you’ve never been faithful to the driving force within you. It’s a foreign feeling, one that you don’t like. You never thought that doing what you wanted would inspire such guilt.

You push yourself out of bed, turning to look over your shoulder at Anakin’s peaceful form, allowing yourself another moment of indulgence as your heart weeps. Your movement has shifted the blanket away from his shoulders, and as quietly as you can, you reach over to adjust it back over his shoulders. Your heart’s corruption rules you for only a moment longer when your hand skates over his jaw. Not quite touching him, no; you can’t allow that in the bright clarity of the morning. It was just sex, you remind yourself. Then you’re gone, swept away in the mirrors and meticulousness of your morning routine.

The peace allows you to sit with your thoughts for a moment longer— to remember your purpose, to remember your role in a story that is so much greater than the microcosm of you and Anakin. You’re here because you’re the queen of Naboo, and you have a responsibility to your people. For just a moment longer, you loathe what has become of your life. All you are now is a vessel for the needs of others, and it hurts to know that you’ll have to give and give until there is nothing left of you, until you can fade into nothingness with no one having truly known you, and yet having been so largely involved in the universe’s fate. You swallow your bitterness, resting your chin on your hand as you stare at the mirror before you, steam clouding the surface. The reflection that looks back at you feels otherworldly, a woman that you’re not sure you’ve ever been and yet one that you know you must be. Your face crafts a perfect smile, the hollowness within invisible to even you. Don’t forget your role, your reflection whispers at you.

Your fingers drum against the surface of the counters as you collect yourself, carefully calculating every diplomatic advantage. Naboo is economically powerful at this time, putting you at a position where you can safeguard from famine with the right connections. Lothal, you should corner the representatives of Lothal. They’re just a backwater, in essence; a backwater planet that you’re positive you can strike the right deals with. Agricultural aid in exchange for a hefty deal, put them in a good position with the economic boost Naboo could get.

Your mind starts to wander as you get dressed. You feel a sense of clarity that’s been absent from you for some time— your guilt sharpens itself into a weapon, holding you at its blade to force you to think deeper, think clearer. Why hadn’t the Separatists told you of their plan? Why did you need to find out from elsewhere? All paths lead to one singular conclusion; they want to get rid of you. It makes total sense, doesn’t it? Install a puppet ruler to get away with whatever you want, and at the right moment, cut the strings. They’d step into the void of power, gaining total control of the planet and thus, giving the Separatists a new stronghold.

But at the same time, you understand the injustice caused by the Republic to many. Its neglect of many systems is not unknown to you, you’re not so foolish to think this is a one sided coin. By pushing the Separatists into a coerced acceptance of the Republic’s governance with militant force, the galaxy is only further polarized by loss. Perhaps… Perhaps the only solution is to allow self-determination. That may not filter out the splinter sections of Separatists, but at least it would be a start.

All you know now is nothingness. You don’t know the solution, but you suppose it doesn’t matter; not if you’re going to end up dead at the end of this all. And doesn’t it make sense? For them to kill you now, blame it on something else and drive Anakin into further madness and desperation? The ultimate form of control. Even if you live, you are leverage against the most powerful weapon in the galaxy. You hate thinking of Anakin like that, but it’s true; even you, removed as you are from the Jedi Order, understand that he is the chosen one.

Your fated doom lingers on your being, shadowlike, but you won’t let this keep you here. For however long you’re in this life, you’ll serve your purpose as best you can. You push the thoughts of your inevitable self sacrifice into action, an agenda spinning into order: you’ll talk to the Lothal representatives, strike up a deal. You’ll have food shipped to Naboo’s moon, allowing safe transport of the food to Naboo so that it doesn’t get blown up on arrival. It feels more like bandaids than a solution, but you’ll figure it out. A solution, that’s something that you’ll have to talk to Padme about. The way you see it, she’s the galaxy’s out— under her leadership, she could bring clarity, a new direction. Which means if you’re aware, so is Palpatine. Or Sidious. You don’t know what to call him now, really.

She’s in danger. But maybe she always was.

~~~

When Anakin wakes up, the only thing he feels is hunger. Clawing out from inside of him, stretching and breaking from his skin; a beast that he had buried, now awakened, that only desires you. He feels it eating at his skin, a certain kind of pain that he almost delights in as he thinks of last night. The hedonistic indulgence of giving in, Dionysian in its call, had only served to fuel his thirst, not quench it. And you’re not here, why aren’t you here?

He thinks back to every moment from last night. Had he pushed you too far? He hadn’t meant to, he hopes he didn’t, but the pain was messing with his head. He couldn’t think clearly with his entirety ripping at the seams. Anakin wants to make it better, wants to kneel at your side and take your hand like it’s a lifeline, but that option isn’t his to take. He doesn’t belong there. Anakin is the Chosen One— something that he would have understood in another lifetime, but now it’s just a label with constraints that he’ll never understand. He can’t have you, and yet… now that he’s given in to the Dark Side, things are different. It’s not quite the same story that he was used to. Now, he’s constantly fighting himself. He wants to pursue you openly, fully, yet he can’t. Why can’t he? Because of some arbitrary rules? But those rules are the ones that have dictated his entire way of thinking. He doesn’t want to give it up so soon. He swings between two extremes, a pendulum of moral inconsistency, hearing the voice of the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan, Shmi, encouraging him to let go of his hunger; Sidious, to feed it.

Anakin knows he has to look past what he wants right now. You’re counting on him for something bigger, and he knows that he needs to figure out what exactly would happen if he exposed Sidious. It’s something you’ve brought to his life: the rationality that he was always expected to have. As a spy, though, you’ve shown him that the guns-blazing approach sometimes will not work, that he has to take his time, collect his information. How deep is the Chancellor’s control? What is the endgame, if he’s already the Chancellor? None of it makes sense to him.

Long, slender limbs are forced out of bed as Anakin stretches, gritting his teeth at the thought of having to face the day. He winces slightly at the sticky feel of sweat on his skin. He needs to wash up, he realizes, and the quick jump to why he has to wash up has his face flushed. He grips himself tightly, eager for some relief from the aching in his cock as he thinks of you. You, with your warm body, your eager responsiveness to his touch, the taste of you on his tongue. Anakin wrenches his hand away in shame, feeling much like a dog panting for a bone as he salivates over you. He mourns the fact that he didn’t take his time and get you fully naked, rather than tearing the clothes from your body, as he pulls his own garments fully off. He wants to give you a better experience, he realizes; he wants to worship your body with his hands, then his tongue, spend hours with his head buried between your thighs as you grind on his face in pursuit of pleasure. Anakin wants more than the quickness that came from sinking to the hilt into your heat brought the night prior— no, he wants the aching, the throbbing in his loins as he makes you see stars.

Cool water pelting across his back isn’t enough to deter his fixation on all the filth he hopes to cause to you. Anakin’s cock still stands at half mast, and it doesn’t take much thinking for him to wrap his fist around it, fucking his tight grip as moans escape. His metal hand claws at the wall as his flesh unites in a perfect pursuit of pleasure. He wants you to hear this, fantasizes about you walking through the bathroom door, sinking to your knees, and sucking the soul out of him. He’d grab your tits, squeeze them, play with them. Anakin doesn’t think he could fuck your pretty face, wants to treat you far too gently for that to happen but he thinks of your hands under his, guiding you to stroke him just how he likes it. It doesn’t take long after that for him to cum, sticky pearls collecting on the bathroom tiling before it washes away.

Anakin gets dressed in an afterglow that’s still focused on you, imagining what it would like to get ready with you. He’s never really done that, has he? Not like this, not in the morning, not with this gentle sweetness blooming in his chest. But his blood turns to ice when he catches his eyes in the mirror, flashing that shade of yellow that he knows to be true to the Sith.

He needs to find Palpatine.

~~~

Anakin finds Palpatine after an assembly, towering over the rush of senators that flow past him. He locks eyes with Palpatine easily, the deceptively meek-statured man smiling at Anakin from where he waits at the doorway. Anakin feels sick at the mere sight, swallowing down his bitter fury to walk towards him. Padme had told him about a myth, a mere story, really, from Naboo; a legend that detailed a king who had put his trust in a bastard son, defending him against any opposition, but finding his life cut short at the end of that very son’s blade. And you, Brutus? He’d said. Anakin feels that way when he looks at Palpatine: that painful, bitter betrayal. It wasn’t fair. But nobody said it ever would be.

“Master,” Anakin calls him quietly. A false name, one that should only have ever belonged to Obi-Wan, or Qui Gonn. Palpatine is nothing to him, a snake laid in wait only to strike at his most vulnerable. “You said you’d help me save my wife.” The din of the crowd is loud enough to diminish the volume of his words, but not the urgency. Palpatine, however, just smiles in response.

“Anakin,” Palpatine says, clasping two hands behind his back. From this angle, he almost looks paternal, like the perfect replacement for an empty slot that Anakin’s had for so long in his life. “I see the concern you have for her. Of course, it is natural. But…”

“But what?”

“I fear you’re simply not strong enough yet. Not ready, you see.”

“Tell me how to be strong enough, then.” Anakin isn’t fooled by his own rationality. He knows that he can pretend this is somehow linked to his infiltration, but he knows it’s his own indulgence in you that drives him. He wants to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

“It’ll cost you,” Palpatine says, walking into an empty sideroom. One that’s often used for business discussions, Anakin recognizes. From in front of him, Palpatine tugs his hood on, and by the time he turns back to Anakin, the physical change is apparent. Instantaneous. The lines on his face are deeper-set, the glow in his eyes inhumane. Sharp, piercing, they see right through him. For a moment, Anakin is fearful that his own treachery will be uncovered. But his fear of losing you drives him further, lets him keep going. Anakin thinks he understands the cost when he sees this.

But he’s wrong.

“Every single member of the Jedi Order are what stands in the way of your realization, your… enlightenment. All the Jedi, padawan or master, including your friend Obi-Wan. They are a threat to the Republic, to peace in the galaxy.”

Anakin feels his heart fall. And he thinks of Obi-Wan, of the warmth of his hug, the crinkle of his eyes when he smiles. The pride, however restrained it may have been, would make his face glow whenever Anakin defeated him in sparring, or when he would laugh at Anakin’s struggles with Ahsoka, telling him they mirrored his own experiences. Sidious was wrong. Obi-Wan wasn’t just his friend, he was greater than that— he was like a brother, like a father, like a part of Anakin that he hadn’t realized had been so significant until he had every single belief he had of right, wrong, of morality itself, put into question. Killing Obi-Wan would be akin to losing the only arm he had left. He isn’t clouded by lust, by love, to even think of the idea.

But then…

He thinks of you. The nightmares of your breath leaving your body, the warmth leaving your physical form. Of the beauty of your laughter, the way you fit his soul so perfectly, pushing him, challenging him and everything he thought he knew. And you did it so sweet, so addictive, making him something else. Making him something that he recognized in himself only once before.

Only when he loved Padme.

And this side of him, the only part of him that Darth Vader hadn’t killed in order to exist, wants nothing more to listen to Sidious. To watch his brother, his Jedi master, die at the end of his saber. It would be fitting, wouldn’t it? The very man he created would bring forth his doom. He’d make it painless, he promises. He wouldn’t dream of bringing him pain. All he wants… is to save you.

It’s not as though the Jedi Order is indestructible, either. Nor is it without its flaws. He’s seen countless villages ravaged by the battle between the Separatists and the Republic. Anakin knows the Jedi are not innocent in the crime of staining the ground they fight for with innocent blood.

Anakin himself, he hadn’t felt free until he was with you. For the first time in his life, away from the Order, away from the dictation of what was wrong, what was right, how to think, eat, dress, breathe, he had a choice now. And you let him have that choice. Wouldn’t it be wrong to pull away? Wouldn’t it be wrong to let you fall, when you had done so much for him?

He loves you. He had told Padme, what feels to him a lifetime ago, that love is what drives a Jedi, to hold compassion that is rooted in none other than love. His loyalty is with you, not Sidious— his religion, his worship, with you also. This is what’s good, what’s right. This is what the Force wants him to do. Anakin understands now, doesn’t he? His whole life, he’s been pulled towards this. Towards you, to love you, to keep you safe.

No matter the cost.

~~~

Lothal’s representatives are easy to find after the general assembly. You don’t know what it is, exactly, but they look lost, like they’re playing a game that they hardly know the rules to. You approach them with poise and grace, your head held high as you zero in on them.

“It’s an honor to be in your presence, your grace,” One of them stammers out. He’s handsome, you think, but not nearly as much as Anakin. Comparing the two is like comparing a candle to the brightness of a sun, anyways. You smile gently, unfazed as you tilt your head in acknowledgement of their greeting.

“As it is for me to be in yours, representatives of Lothal.”

“Denon, milady. I am the senior-most representative of our planet. I assume you do not stop by purely for the purpose of making our acquaintance,” Denon replies. Senior-most. You almost want to laugh at the declaration. He seems boyish still, the innocence in his eyes betraying his youth. You flick your eyes around, assessing your audience quickly before you offer your arm to Denon.

“Not here,” you murmur, strolling arm-in-arm to the nearest room. You’re quick to step away from him once the doors are shut, taking a seat at a table as he mirrors you awkwardly. You’ve done your research, you have no reason to feel nervous, and yet your hands still tremble before you lay them flat on the table.

“Denon, I’ve done my research. The financial sector of Lothal has expressed its frustration at the insufficient funding of the planet— simply put, your planet is not… prosperous. I do not need to explain the subsequent effect of this: how this insufficiency results in a multitude of disasters. The workers on your planet work diligently, and yet the imports to the planet are, by-and-large, inaccessible. Why? I believe, Denon, that your planet’s work is undervalued, understated, and Naboo has a simple answer to your question.”

You sigh quietly, a crafted noise, meant to draw their attention in further. They’re watching you attentively, they know you’re their saving grace and Maker, they’re ready to take it.

Good.

“Naboo will outbid your current agricultural contracts in order to be the primary recipient of your crop. I offer billions of units to your planet, with few caveats; Naboo will maintain anonymity until the length of our contract is finished, and the delivery will be to our moons, not to our direct ports. In the meantime, this will leave fewer supply for the remainder of your contracts. It’s simple economics; your supply will diminish, but the demand will remain the same. I offer nothing but a fair compensation for the labor of your peoples, and a promise that my actions will drive others to do much of the same.”

Denon looks at you, looks to his fellow representatives, then to you again. Then he blinks, opens his mouth as though he wishes to say something, and closes it again.

“Any questions?” You ask, drumming your hands on the table. You need them to take this, but you can’t show how desperate you are. They might be naive, but anyone knows desperation is a flaw to be exploited, even representatives from an outskirts-planet like Lothal. You still hold power, and that will not be mistaken.

“Why? Why now?” One man pipes up from next to Denon.

“Naboo wishes to establish strong diplomantic ties with supporters, like Lothal. This is as much a political move as it is economic, Representative.”

“We’ll take it,” Denon says. He seems starstruck, like it’s too good to be true. Denon stands from the table and offers his hand to you, which you take as you stand up.

“Brilliant. I’ll draft up the terms and have my Ministers send the plans to you.”

“Milady, your offer is most gracious. If there’s anything we can do…”

“I’ll let you know, Representative Denon. Thank you.” Denon drops to a bow, kissing the back of your hand as you hold back your discomfort. You’ve never really been great with all of this pageantry, but you’ll put up with it well enough.

But timing is not on your side. The door swings open to reveal Anakin, whose face betrays his rage as he sees your hand in Denon’s.

“What business do you have with my wife?” He demands callously, striding closer to Denon as his emotions escape his control. You’re careful to watch him, seeing the glint of yellow in his eyes as he sizes up Denon, ready for a fight.

“My love, we were—”

“I did not ask you. I asked the man who dared to touch my wife,” Anakin seethes. You scoff at his arrogance, grabbing his chin to tear his gaze away from Denon.

“Representative Denon, you may take your leave. I will continue my communications with the planet of Lothal at a later time.” You keep your eyes locked on Anakin, watching his form visibly relax as they shuffle out of the room awkwardly. It only angers you further.

As the door shuts, Anakin reaches his hand to your wrist, calling your name softly.

“No. That was unacceptable, Anakin. That might have been acceptable with Padme, but certainly not with me. Do not forget our arrangement, General Skywalker,” you bite out. You see hurt flash in his eyes as you refer to him by his title, but you’re infuriated, and Anakin is the reason why. “Don’t ever barge into my diplomatic meetings and question me or anyone else what our intentions are. We are nothing other than allies to each other, Skywalker, do not let a night of passion delude you.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Anakin asks. You’re unable to look at him, so you allow yourself to let go of his chin, but he keeps his hand on your wrist. “Answer me. Is that all I am to you?”

Anakin’s heart is in his throat. No. He’s seen this before, he knows how it plays out, and he isn’t the victor. In any scenario, he loses you. He can’t lose you. He’s given up so much for you, hasn’t he? Why would you abandon him? You couldn’t. He’s sure you’re bluffing, but there’s still that dryness in his mouth, that dizziness as he looks at you.

Please, let him be more to you.

“That’s all we are to one another,” you whisper.

Anakin lets go of your hand.

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