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doflamingadonquixote · 5 years

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Her Light - Pt. 1/?

Title: Her Light Pairing: Padawan!OC/Armitage Hux Warnings: Slavery, Ben Solo and Armitage Hux not dead Summary: After the Battle of Exegol and the destruction of the First Order, Ben Solo and Rey Palpatine Skywalker seek Force-sensitive subjects, in the galaxy, to train them. They discovered you, a Kiffar, on the planet of Kiffu. Two years later, your two Jedi Master bring you and the other older padawan to the planet of Kessel, to retrieve another promising pupil. And here, you will find your dark and your light. Words: 2156

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Next Chap: Page 2

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Part 1 of ?

Kessel was one of the hottest planets you had set foot in for years. You had had your experiences traveling around the galaxy, especially in those last years when you joined the New Republic, which was slowly rebuilding its foundations after the end of the battle.

The Millennium Falcon flew just above the crust of the planet until it stopped above a small inhabited city, distant from the mining area that later the masters Ben Solo and Rey Skywalker would have had to reach separately.

The mission had been largely carried out while you were still on Ajan Kloss, where the temple stood and where the training of you future Jedi took place. Ben and Rey would have undertaken a search for another apprentice, reported on that planet in the areas of the mines and you 4 padawans would have had to look for the necessary components for the Falcon and some military troops of the Republic.

The list on the holopad had been transferred directly to the second girl besides you, the latest but surely the most responsible, Yamitha. She came from the planet of Naboo and had such a clear complexion that you would hardly have guessed that she had lived in large forests. Her hair was a dark purple that highlighted her warm golden eyes.

When the ship hit the ground, you ran up to the Falcon exit, and jumped out into the open air. It was just as you thought. The sultry heat penetrated your white suit, starting to wet your skin with sweat, but you didn't want to give it any weight.

The background you had before you deserved your full attention.

There, about a kilometer away, a large expanse of tarpaulins filled the sandy soil of the planet. There were all colors. Green, yellow, pink, light blue and a large mass of people walked among them with smiles and wonder.

Before you could advance to the area to begin your exploration, Rey grabbed the back of the cloak, sliding the hood away, and pulling you toward her. Your hair was freed from the protection and small grains of sand carried by the wind ended up in your hair, shining against the hair.

“Respect the list, Y/N. No tricks this time.” The Jedi scolded you, leaving you with an amused look as you tried to extricate yourself quickly.

You rolled your eyes, running a hand over your cheeks and outlining, as you usually do, the yellow arrows that decorated your face, just a little lower than the temples. Belonging to your clan.

You had been one of the first apprentices, more precisely the second, to be invited to the circle that Ben Solo and Rey were trying to build. So they had the opportunity to study you, understand you and manage you in those years. At the beginning you were one of the most discreet students, but by going ahead with your training and entering the new environment you quickly gained confidence, often putting yourself on the line in situations that didn’t require it.

Yamitha came to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder and drawing attention to himself.

“Maybe it's better to go now. Even if we divide our tasks, it will be difficult to find all the material on time.”

Within the group, the only girls who were sought and invited were the two of you. You turned out to be the biggest and the strongest with your Y / A years and perhaps your nature as a kiffar but as for judgment and responsibility, Yamitha was definitely the one ahead.

Maybe that was why they had given you money protection and put Yamitha in close contact with you. And for that reason, you had made a strong and shared bond that the apprentices had not found in others.

Without holding back any longer, the masters left the remaining apprentices in Yamitha's hands and set off for the mines, trying to hire a vehicle to escort them.

When you entered the heart of the market, you let yourself be carried away by the feelings and the calls of the sellers, stopping left and right and often losing sight of the remaining companions.

You have never seen so many varieties of sweets and foods of all kinds.

“Do you want to taste it, traveler?”

A tray was presented to you in front of your face, making the fruit lying on it shine bright purple. Some seemed instead covered in something, leaving little room for natural color.

You stuck one in your mouth and your eyes shone with the explosion of sweetness that filled your mouth. The small grains seemed to melt on contact with your tongue, without any need to chew.

“What are they?”

“Cambylictus berry. Fine berries from the planet of Naboo.”

You looked around, looking for your friend, and found her at a pair of tents away, who was talking openly with the owner.

“How much for five of these?” you asked, pointing to the guy the ones you had tasted.

“4 Peggat” the seller's tone had suddenly become cautious and serious.

“2 peggat and 2 trugut. That's all I have.” You shrugged, looking for the bundle of money that you had put aside during your travels and your assistance to the Republic.

With the exhausting mental training that Ben forced you and Rey's physical training, it was somewhat impossible to find much time to devote to work to earn something. Not that the Jedi masters made you miss something, but in cases like that you wanted to have something aside that you could spend at your leisure. So when it happened, you cleaned or helped members of the Republic who came and went to Ajan Kloss for resources.

You had earned about 50 peggat in a year, however you had to spend 30 for pieces needed to modify your lightsaber and the remaining 20 were 2 and a half left.

The man, lowering his eyes along the cloak looking for a possible lie, hesitantly accepted your offer, extending a small basket with five small fruits inside on the tray.

When you turned around in search of your partner, you bleached. Yamitha was nowhere to be seen, and not even the black cloaks of your other companions seemed to stand out in the crowd of people who invaded that market.

You tried to untangle yourself as much as possible among the people, moving aside hoods to identify any friends but you had already irritated too many people and in a short time had attracted attention to you. People stared at you and often pointed, confirming your suspicions. So, quickly, you hid under the hood and tried to get away from the crowd.

Going up some houses behind the stands you would surely find who you were looking for.

When you found yourself with your back to a high building, you sighed and stared at the tip with great desire. You would have used Force with the greatest possible discretion to get to the top.

But before you could even close your eyes to get enough concentration, a strong hand weighed on your right shoulder making you snap like an animal caught by surprise. At that speed, the hood also slipped out of your head, revealing your identity.

“Are you lost, girl?”

He was a Zygerrian. A feline humanoid race somewhat suspicious of their shady plans. That was certainly a male, with a dark fur and two yellow eyes like amber without impurities.

“No, I just got away from the chaos of the market. I don't like shopping crowds.” Lie, hiding your hands inside the coat and sliding your fingers over the cold surface of your lightsaber.

The feline man seemed to notice it because he followed your movements for a moment, letting out a sarcastic and derisive smile.

“Well, I suggest you look elsewhere then. This area is closed to mere visitors.” His tone was threatening and his eyes darted servants in your direction.

When a side door to the building you stood beside opened, you snapped your eyes in his direction, watching a companion of the guy you were facing come forward. And it was definitely bigger.

Before the door closed, a roar of angry screams rose inside the hall, making you suspect of shady deals open to a reduced audience of rascals.

With a big breath, you decided to apply the last teachings of the Master Rey that you were so eager to try for lack of opportunities.

You held out a hand in front of you, so that both enemies came under your beam and you spoke in a clear voice.

“Now you will let me in.”

About ten seconds passed, then, just when you thought they would do as ordered, a blaster was aimed directly at your head.

“I don’t think so.” He grinned, loading the weapon.

With an annoyed snort, you rolled your eyes. Obviously it would have taken more than just training to plagiarize the minds of others.

When the blaster fired the first shot, through the connection with the Force, you anticipated it, moving slightly away and before the being or friend could attack again, you let enough energy flow from the body to create a shock wave that sent both of them to collide with the surface of the walls.

They tumbled to the ground, in strange corners but the breath and their presence in the Force confirmed that they were passed out and still alive. Ben and Rey would certainly have preached to you otherwise, even if it had been a matter of life or death.

Silent, you entered the door that you had previously seen open and you thought of a way to be able to subsequently reach your companions and your teachers to discover the illegality.

Images of clandestine struggles and races of forbidden animals passed through your mind, things you had often witnessed even within your home country. But what came before you made you goosebumps.

On an elevated stage with a whole crowd in front of him, a tall man with rough features was yanking what looked like a young Herglic tied to a chain and collar by the neck. The creature moaned in terror but it was dragged away by the annoyed and laden screams for the next victim.

Unwittingly, you captured what her pain and fear were and took your stomach in a painful grip that forced you to breathe heavily. You didn't know why her feelings had poured out on you, but it had happened.

You pushed yourself against the wall, leaning against it as a way to support yourself and your vision clouded for what seemed like hours.

When the body of the aquatic creature was dragged away, your senses returned forcefully, making you land again with your feet on the ground.

You brought your hand, free from the protective grip around the lightsaber, to your head under the hood and rubbed your eyes as if to get rid of the headache that had just hit you.

“We are still halfway done, gentlecreature” declared the auction seller, also a Zy but female, who beat the hammer above the stage. You almost threw up when she identified the mob there as people of good manners. “And in honor of this wonderful and delightful auction, we have a surprise for all of you.”

She nodded with a clawed hand to someone who was probably hiding at the side of the stage and smiled at the crowd that was waving their number signs excitedly.

Another feline man came out to the side, carrying a rope behind him, this time more like a satin rope than a chain and a human being (or what it seemed) came out. Completely naked.

Your throat went so dry with such cruelty.

The beast tugged on the man who ended up with a painful growl on his knees on the boards. Instead, the audience had fallen into the deepest silence.

The young man, from what you could see from the back of the room, had short, well-groomed hair of a shining ginger (you would have hardly deduced that he was a slave for sale) and the complexion of his skin was clear but covered with patches. The rest was completely covered in your sight, lying on the ground.

Just as it happened with the fish girl, the man's feelings hit you like a tsunami making you almost collapse on the ground.

This time, however, what came to grab your stomach was not fear. But deep anger and desire for revenge.

“I guess everyone has understood by now who he is.” The cat woman laughed, beating a decisive blow on the wood in front of her and subsequently pointing with the same the man kneeling on the ground next to her.

“Do five million seem fair to you as a start for General Armitage Hux, of the First Order?”

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A/N: Hi everyone, I was going to post this fic on AO3 but I opted to post it here too. As usual, I apologize for my bad English which I hope will improve by learning to translate words. I'm glad if you want to comment or be tagged in the next chapters.

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starstwinkleplanetsshine · 4 years

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The Call of Resistance

Hello friends! I’ve been writing a Star Wars fanfic for a while now and I finally worked up the courage to post it (thanks to my big sister and biggest supporter @thesassprincess) If you could give it a read and give feedback/tell me what you think, I would appreciate it so much!! I’m going to be posting the second chapter soon. I have big plans for this story and my character and I hope you stick around to see what they are!!

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/28645833/chapters/70217853

Summary: Novastra Darklighter has had her eyes on the horizon ever since she was a child, and she always knew that the quiet life of a moisture farmer on Tatooine was never for her. She longed for the day when she could finally get behind the controls of her mothers old X-Wing and fly until her desert planet was as tiny as the specs of sand that she hated so much. Life in the Outer Rim is hard enough, but with war breaking out in the galaxy, the time is coming when everyone, even simple farmers on Tatooine, must decide if they will keep their eyes downcast to the dirt or stand tall in the face of The First Order.

Preview: I’ve been a pilot ever since I can remember. It was a natural progression--I learned to walk, talk, and then fly. While other children were learning how to read or lace up their boots, I was behind the controls of an old X Wing on my mother or father's lap, learning the subtle nuances of the art of piloting. Many said it was a waste, that I should spend my time learning some skills valuable for a young girl that would actually help me in life: like the differences between crylar metal and mutlin rock, which crude fabric would earn more truguts at the market, or how to pick up spare scraps to sell at the scrap yard. But my parents and I knew that flying was so much more important than all of those. Those skills, while useful on my small, desert planet of Tatooine, would keep me on the ground. Flying was my only chance of escape, and I always knew it would be my ticket out. All my life, I couldn’t wait for the day I left that hunk of rock that I was trapped on. I could never imagine spending my life there.

That just wasn’t an option.

My mother and father knew it too. They would notice how my eyes would always linger on the horizon a little too long, that when all the other children would have their heads down, scanning the dirt, my eyes would be gazing at the twin suns above and marveling at the wonders just beyond our atmosphere. Something pulled me toward the stars, and I could never keep my feet on the ground for too long.

And after my parents died when I was young, flying kept me close to them...

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irrfahrer · 4 years

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Open Starter

Burns, Ziv noticed not for the first time, were a normal injury for people working on spacestations. And it was also normal, Ziv continued to notice as she smeared another layer of cooling Herboinment on the blistered arm of the Technico kneeling beside her so he was low enough for her to comfortably work, that those wounds turned into a really big problem as those wounds were often ignored and with that eventually would become dirty. The Problem was not that the Technico had been careless in his work. The Problem was not the pain from the burn. The Problem was,that such wounds during the work of a mechanic would get all to easily infected. Therefor,after she had carefully smeared the cooling oinment on the burned skin during which she had noticed how the Technico had slowly relaxed from the soothing coolness and even managed to smile a little, she took a small jar of Resin and a pack of Voss-Bark and put them beside her on the spacestations rusty ground. The spacestations hangar was old and at this time of the morning most people had not yet continued their travel or had gone to work so the Hangar was as busy as a beehive with people talking, laughing and yelling. Along one of the Hangars walls between a view chests of merchandises Ziv had put up a makeshift stall build from a few boxes to sit on and her open canister for her to rummage though for her materials. While around them the hangar was full of people who floaded on their way to work past them like waves, the small crowd of patients gathered around her were only quietly talking. With nimble fingers the Tynnan wrapped the long scraps of Bark around the Humanoids arm and glued the ends of the bark to his skin with drops of Rasin to fixate them tentativly. The bark grew on slender, pale trees in the Steppes of Voss, where they were also called Skeleton-Trees for their pale, thin from that made them look like fingerbones stretching out from the earth. The tree produced antifungal,antibacterial and antinsectual triterpene like Betulin too keep fungi, bacteria and bugs away from living on the trees bark and wood which made it perfect to use as bandages as the bark could be ripped off in long straps that felt almost like Linen. “I will give you a jar with the oinment. Its cooling and helps the flesh healing. You will have to apply a new layer of oinment on the blisters every four hours from tomorrow and in-”, she tilted her head to the side,the Tynnans ears moved up and down asn if she was a thoughtful animal before she added: “-three days it will be just a little reddened skin for a week. After that the skin will be a little irritable, but there will also be no scar and you will be able to move the arm as freely as usually. Just fixate the bark with tape, after you apply the oinment.”

“Mhmmm, Thank you.” the Technico waited until Ziv let go of his wrist and then carefully bend the elbow to check if the bandage was hindering his movements. The bark rustled dryly like Flimsiplast, but neither did the bark ripped nor did the mans face disorted in pain from his burns. Instead he only nodded relieved, almost laughing as if he had heard a joke only he could understand. The young woman grabbed her jar with the cooling oinment which still sticked to her fingertips and made them feel numb as if she had clenched her hand around ice for hours, and carefully refilled a part of the oinment in another jar for the Technico to use in the next days: “One Trugut, then.”

The Technico grimaced as if he had bitten on a sour fruit and lay a hand on the chestpocket of his parka where Ziv figured he had stored his coins: “...listen, kid...” “Not a kid. Especially not someone that will allow you to call her kid.”, the Tynnans pale tail flicked from one side to another as if she was a irritated animal. Grimacing the man harrumphed: “Listen, last week it were only 32 Wupiupi. Its really not fair- ” “Thats because you also had not payed me for that treatment from last week. Its time to pay now-”, before Ziv could finish her sentences the Technico interrupted her which was enough to make the woman narrow her eyes to thin slits and bare her sharp teeth. The man lifted his hands before his chest as if he wanted to build up a shield between himself and the young woman: “I kriffing forgot. Make no big deal out of it.” "-or my krififng unpayed ass now kriffing forgets my medical secrecy and tells everyone what I had treated you for last week.” Ziv ended her sentences,without breaking eyecontact with the man for a single second and watched a little gleefully how the Technicos face turned from one second to another as red as a blasterfire. She pointed a claw to the Twi’Lek standing beside the Technico whos blue hand till now had rested gently on the other mans shoulder, there was a little smile spreading over the Tynnans pale muzzle that looked as friendly and welcoming as a open wound: “Kriffing Everyone, but especially that guy who accompanied you here.” The Twi-Lek blinked confused, his azure Lekkus moved a little hectic and frowning he looked down at his boyfriend while said Technicos face turned from very red to completly white in the matter of seconds. Not wasting another moment he grabbed in his parkers pocket and fished out a Trugut he put so hasty in Zivs open paw as if it was broiling. “I thought so. Thank you very much. ”, the Tynnans smile maybe turned slightly into a smirk. But only slightly. She grabbed the jar with the herboinment but instead giving it to the Technico, she held it up to the Twi’Lek to take: “Its not like I do not trust him, but he also kriffing forgot to pay me last week, so you may remember for him to apply another layer of salve every four hours.” The sentences was enough to let the small crowd gathered around Zivs makeshift stall burst into quiet chuckles and let the red return to the technicos face so suddenly as if he had pushed his head into a bucket of red colour. Muttering under his breath he got on his feet and took the Twi’Lek by the free hand who only barely managed to take the jar with oinment from Ziv before he was hasty pulled along. Humming just a little gleefully the Tynnan stretched her neck to call after the couple before they were swallowed by the crowd like by an eager mouth: “Don´t forget : every four hours!”

With a huff the young woman turned back to the small crowd still waiting.The little exchange had drawn a few little smiles on the usually serious, stern faces that were forced to seek out someone like Ziv who was a cheaper alternative to the bacta in the Medicenters. “Now, enough with the laughters. Lets be kriffing serious again.”, huffing quietly Ziv ran a small paw over her head to fix her bristled pelt before she looked up again to her next patient,her ears jolted upwards like the ears of a observant animal: “How may I help you?”

#open starter #open rp #sw rp #starwars rp #star wars roleplay #star wars the clone wars #starwarsthe clonewars rp #open roleplay #rp starter #open #rp #V: Odyssee #star wars jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order rp #jfo rp #irrfahrer #Ziv Odyz' zee #Ziv Odiz' zee

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padawanlost · 7 years

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“I’ll take four pallies, Jira.” [Anakin] glanced at Padme eagerly. “You’ll like these.“ He reached into his pocket for the truguts he had been saving, but when he brought them out to pay Jira, he dropped one. [...] He only had three, he found. “Whoops, I thought I had more,” he said quickly, not looking up. “Make that three pallies, Jira. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

#swedit #starwarsedit #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #qui gon jinn #jira #r2d2 #jar jar binks #the phantom menace #mine #padawanlost #flagged

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resourcepharma · 5 years

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#Buy Surgical Products Online Vadodara

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sw5w · 10 months

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Oh, Dissen Gonna Be Messy

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:59:38

#Star Wars #Episode I #The Phantom Menace #Tatooine #Mos Espa #Mos Espa Grand Arena #Boonta Eve Classic #repulsorlift #viewing platform #viewing tower #handheld viewscreen #trugut #grip bar #Jar Jar Binks #Shmi Skywalker #Qui-Gon Jinn #Padmé Naberrie

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smonksthemuse · 7 years

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I Have to Leave at Midnight (chapter one)

finally, am I right? I decided to split the prologue into two chapters btw. hope you all enjoy! especially you, @liveandletrain and @flaminganakin !

here on my AO3!

Shmi Skywalker lived on the Hutt-ruled desert planet of Tatooine. She was the freeborn daughter of slaves, and the first free person in her family for many, many generations.

Her family, the Skywalkers, had been on Tatooine for as long as anyone could remember, and had likely been slaves for even longer. Shmi’s mother had been freed after her Master’s death, when her ownership had been transferred to his only living relative; a second cousin who didn’t partake in the slave trade. Her mother had then managed to get a job as a hired hand on a moisture farm, where she worked until she had saved enough money to buy the freedom of the man she loved, the man who would become Shmi’s father.

Shmi grew up with as happy a childhood as was possible on Tatooine. Her parents were loving and protective and gave her everything they could. Shmi loved them with all her heart, and she never doubted for a second that they felt the same.

Her father would invent stories to tell her before bed, bringing characters to life with a variety of voices and accents; he would sometimes even act out battle scenes, playing multiple people at once. Her mother would dance with her to music only they could hear, spinning and hopping and flailing through the house like they were the life of an invisible party, and eventually they would collapse into a breathless, giggling heap.

Her parents wanted, more than anything else, for Shmi to be safe. She was free, they told her, and she should always be free. She should never be forced into slavery to lead the kind of life her parents, and their parents, and their parents’ parents had suffered through. And as much as they loved her, they wouldn’t always be able to protect her. So they taught her, from a young age, how to protect herself.

On Shmi’s eighth birthday, they had given her a wicked vibroblade, which she still carried with her to this day. They showed her how to use it without hurting herself, and how to wear it so that others would see and keep their distance. They taught her where the most sensitive areas of the body were for different species, and trained her to quickly dodge grabbing arms and to keep an eye on shadows that seemed to follow her. They told her the signs of those who would trick her, kidnap her, enslave her; if they tried to win her trust too quickly, if they offered her their hospitality too freely, if they paid for something and said she would owe them a favor. If they asked too many personal questions, if they wanted to meet her somewhere alone, if they looked her up and down and she felt like she was being appraised. If they seemed to have little or no empathy for others, if they reacted violently to perceived slights, and if they bragged loudly about being in the Hutts’ employ.

Look at the eyes especially, her parents had taught her. If they look at you with greedy eyes and don’t try to sell you something or buy something you have, run away and stay away.

Shmi knew that her parents’ worst fear was for her to be enslaved. One night, when she was nine years old, Shmi had laid in her bed and made a silent promise to her parents and herself.

She swore that she would always be careful, always be smart, always stay safe, and that she would never, ever be a slave.

When Shmi was fourteen years old, her father had died. A random fight at a cantina, shots fired by half a dozen liquored-up lowlifes, her father caught in the middle. Shot twice; once in the stomach and once in the face. Her mother told her, drunk and mourning one night a few weeks after it happened, that if Shmi didn’t need her she would have killed herself to join him.

When Shmi was twenty-six years old, her mother had died. Mugged in the street on her way home from working, a vibroblade to the throat. Bled out in the sand beneath the setting suns. Shmi hadn’t mourned by drinking and crying; she had mourned by working and staying busy, trying very hard to give herself no time or energy for the kind of thoughts her mother had confessed to when her father had been killed.

When Shmi was thirty years old, she had given birth to a boy, her son who she named Anakin. She loved him more than life itself, and as she held him for the first time and heard his strong, beautiful first cries, she made him a promise.

She swore that she would always keep him safe, that she would never leave him, and that he would never, ever, ever be a slave.

Once she had Anakin, she finally, truly understood the fear her parents had had for her. The worst thing Shmi could possibly imagine, the idea that occasionally kept her awake at night with dread curdling in her stomach, was the possibility of Anakin being forced into slavery.

Her parents’ fear and desire to protect Shmi had led them to isolate their family; they had no friends, only acquaintances from their respective jobs and people they saw often at the market or the cantinas. They feared that any stranger could be a slaver, or that their family could become a target if they got close to someone who wound up angering some underling of the Hutts, or even the Hutts themselves.

Fear had always been a part of her parents ' lives; they had feared being sold away from their mothers, they had feared the hand of their Masters, they had feared the transmitters hidden inside their bodies that could blow them up at the press of a button. And then, once they were no longer slaves, they had feared losing their freedom, and the freedom of their freeborn daughter.

They had passed their fear on to Shmi, who carried it both as a girl who feared for herself and now as a woman who feared for her son. Shmi wished she could be as confident in her freeborn status as others could; she wished she could take it for granted, like people whose families had been free for generations seemed to. But Shmi, the first of the Skywalkers to be anything other than chattel, knew no such luxury. She had lived on Tatooine all her life, but not since the short and long-gone years of blissful childhood ignorance had she felt truly safe.

She was the child of slaves, and as she lived her life of fragile freedom she walked upon the same sands where her parents and their parents and their parents’ parents had lived their lives in bondage; how could she ever feel safe?

But Shmi didn’t want that for Anakin. She didn’t want to pass down the fear of slavery to her little boy, even though she knew that doing so could save him from such a fate. If she taught him the lessons her parents had taught her, he would be cautious and wary and canny and suspicious and so, so alone.

Shmi had continued the family tradition of shying away from friendship out of fear, and the Skywalkers remained a family isolated. But Anakin was nothing like that; he was a sweet, friendly, sociable boy. He made friends in a blink, smiled at strangers, and even waved hello to any droids he happened to see. Shmi didn’t want to snuff out that happy little light inside him, much less replace it with an anxious, weary fear of the world. She just couldn’t do that to him, even if it would be for his own safety.

And besides, at the age of three Anakin was already well-known and well-liked by Shmi’s acquaintances, and he even had a best friend; Kitster Banai, a little boy his age who was a slave along with his mother. The two were practically inseparable when they played together, and Anakin asked at least five times a day if they could stop by their hut in the slave quarter.

Shmi always felt uneasy in the slave quarter, even though logically she knew that it was the last place slavers looked to for new victims; everyone who lived there was already a victim, after all. But still, she always tried not to let her and Anakin be seen there for long.

She didn’t know exactly what she was afraid of. Maybe she feared calling down the malice of some beady-eyed watcher, who believed that if they were going to visit there so often they might as well become residents. But she refused to let her fear keep Anakin from having a friend, no matter how on-edge she became when surrounded by what could have so easily been her fate: a hovel in the slave quarter she shared with her son.

It was a blazing hot day, as all days were on Tatooine. The market was as bustling as always, and Shmi kept Anakin’s hand in hers as she haggled ruthlessly with a particularly greasy merchant whose price for the parts she needed to upgrade their home’s external security access keypad was ridiculous.

The man was a truly repulsive specimen; he dropped a lewd innuendo at the end of every sentence like a bantha dropped shit, with half the grace and twice the stench. She was fairly certain he had never cleaned his teeth in his life, so standing nose-to-nose with him as they argued prices was stomach-churning in more ways than one.

“One trugut and two wupiupi, sweetheart,” he drawled. “That’s my price.”

Shmi ground her teeth together and growled. “Absolutely not. Twelve wupiupi is more than what those parts are worth.”

He leered at her. “You want ‘em cheaper, you best be ready to work for it. I can’t take something off the price unless you take something off for me.” His lips parted in a disgusting, half-rotten grin and he leaned into her space. Shmi narrowed her eyes and leaned forward herself, pushing him back a bit and showing how unimpressed she was with his slimy demeanor. She squeezed Anakin’s hand a little tighter, and he squeezed back. She saw through her periphery that he was looking up at her, but she kept her eyes on the vendor.

“I can trade you a partially-restored vaporator patch-in droid if you lower it to eight,” she bit out. One hand came up to grip the strap of her full and heavy knapsack. “Or a small automatic dew condenser for ten.”

He considered it for a moment. “Ten wupiupi and the patch-in droid,” he said, “or both and eight.” At Shmi’s obvious displeasure he tilted his head smugly and purred, “Or we could work out a different sort of trade, and you can have ‘em for four.”

She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought about that little proposal, and to threaten to walk away if he didn’t offer her a fair deal, when suddenly a terrible feeling of something’s wrong came over her. A chill raced down her spine despite the heat and the pit of her stomach knotted up anxiously. She reached for Anakin, meaning to draw him closer for safety until she could find what the problem was -

Only to realize that Anakin wasn’t there.

Her heart stopped.

She whipped around to see him trotting off toward a stall with ripening fruit for sale, utterly guileless and without a care in the Galaxy. Fear spiked through her and she rushed after him, forgetting about the merchant, about the haggling, forgetting about everything except getting to Anakin. Getting to him now before something could happen, getting to him first before someone else could.

She grabbed him and snatched him up into her arms, held him tightly against her chest, ignoring his confused protests. Her heart pounded, and she whispered furiously, fearfully, that he was never to do that again.

“I want fruit,” he complained innocently, giving her a little frown. “Fruit, Mommy.” He worked an arm free of her desperate hug and pointed to the stall. “I want it.”

“We have fruit, Ani,” she said, trying to calm down and steady her voice. “We have fruit at home, we don’t need more right -” She suddenly went still, feeling something tingle at the edges of her senses. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man watching them. She turned her head to look directly at him, and he met her gaze.

She knew immediately he was a slaver. He had the resigned yet patient look of a predator who had missed an opportunity, but was willing to wait for it to return. He had clearly been walking toward Anakin before Shmi had scooped him up, and he made no attempt to hide the obvious greed in his body language as he raked his eyes over the two of them, lingering on Anakin, who was still tucked against her tightly. The more Shmi looked at him, the more she thought she recognized him from the crowds that gathered around slave auctions. But of course, she couldn’t be sure; his kind all looked the same.

The man stared at her, not breaking eye contact, and his expression said clearly, you were lucky this time. Shmi felt the blood drain from her face and her stomach go cold. Slowly, deliberately, she put a hand on the vibroblade her parents had given her all those years ago; half as a message to man - I’m armed, you son of a bitch, not another step - and half to reassure herself it was there, even though she wore it on her belt at all times and never left home without it.

After a few seconds of their stand-off, the man shrugged lazily and turned to walk away. But before he vanished into the crowd of shoppers and vendors, he gave her a backward glance and an ugly, terrible, knowing smirk.

“Mommy.” Anakin prodded at her shoulder. “Mommy, what are you looking at?” He craned his neck to look, trying to find what was so important.

Shmi felt like she was going to be sick.

She rushed Anakin home from the market without buying a thing, and decided that afternoon that they would leave forever. She couldn’t do this anymore. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t live here, wouldn’t raise her son here, after such a close call.

Anakin deserved better than Tatooine, so much better. Her little boy deserved the stars; she wouldn’t make him settle for the sand.

Shmi had no family she knew of besides Anakin, and no friends. No one she would miss, and no one who would miss her. The only things she would regret leaving behind were her parents’ graves, but she had a feeling that wherever they were now, they understood. Maybe even approved.

So Shmi gathered all of her money and packed up their clothes and cherished possessions, folding and arranging it all into a few small bags, plus her large knapsack and Anakin’s small one. She went to the records office and got a copy of the deed to her house, and walked all around Mos Espa offering to sell it, and everything inside it, for a mere fraction what it was worth. Finally, just an hour before sunsdown, she found someone in one of the many cantinas who was willing to buy and able to pay up front and in full. The individual was somewhat drunk, and their somewhat-drunk friends were egging them on, but Shmi cared more about getting the money than about striking an honest deal.

She explained the situation to Anakin as best she could, and even though he didn’t truly understand why, he knew they were leaving Tatooine and never coming back. He was sad and confused and a little bit scared, so to help make the whole thing a bit easier Shmi decided to take him to see Kitster one last time. After all, they were best friends; and even though Shmi didn’t have much experience in that area, she knew that best friends didn’t leave without saying goodbye.

So they went to the Banai’s hut to say their farewells as the suns set on their last day on Tatooine. Kitster’s mother offers them her best wishes, and says that she hoped they would find safety and happiness wherever they ended up. Shmi thanks her and says that she hoped she and Kitster would one day be free to follow them out into the stars. Anakin and Kitster hug each other tight. “I love you, Kit,” Anakin says quietly, voice muffled by the fact that his face is buried in Kitster’s shoulder. “I love you too, Ani,” Kitster says back, sounding sad and small. Shmi’s heart twists, but she knows she can’t turn back now, and she doesn’t really want to. It’s for the best, she reminds herself. It’s for the best. Even if it’s hard. Even if it hurts. It’s for Anakin.

The moons were nearly at their peaks in the sky when Shmi finally found a pilot who would allow them to board her ship for a reasonable price. It was freezing, as Tatooine’s nights always were, so they huddled in the warmth of yet another cantina and worked out the details: Shmi would pay this much for her and Anakin’s passage, these were the rules, this is how long it would take to reach their destination (not long at all), and their destination, by the way, was Naboo.

Shmi couldn’t have been happier to hear where they were going; Naboo! She’d heard about Naboo. It was a beautiful planet with lovely people where they elected their rulers and slavery was abhorrent in the minds of each and every one of them. It was the perfect place for her and Anakin.

They left in the early hours before sunsrise, Anakin simultaneously wired and exhausted from the lack of sleep and the excitement of being on a ship and going on an adventure. Shmi held him as the cargo freighter took off and they flew out into space. The hyperdrive kicked in and they left Tatooine behind, not sparing the desert sands a final look.

They sat together, Anakin bouncing slightly on her lap, and she imagined the planet becoming smaller and smaller as they flew out and away into the stars.

Slowly, the fretful, paranoid tension that Shmi had carried for nearly all her life began to loosen. The fear that had been her companion-by-necessity since she was a little girl began drifting away to the back of her mind, quieted for the first time in years. Her eyes became damp and she let out a breathy, almost disbelieving laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Anakin’s head.

They were getting out. They were leaving Tatooine, and they would never return. It was exhilarating.

For the first time in her life, her freedom, and the freedom of her son, didn’t feel so tenuous.

Throughout the entirety of the trip, she thought forward to the future she would share with Anakin. They would have a good, happy, safe life together, on the kind and gentle planet of Naboo. Far away from Tatooine, and its ever-present threat of slavery.

Far, far away.

With Anakin balanced on her hip, Shmi stepped off the ship’s ramp and onto Naboo.

The air was cool and fresh, pleasant to breathe, unlike the hot, thick, dusty air of Tatooine. Shmi took deep breaths, savoring the lightness of it in her lungs and the slight chill of it against her skin.

The pilot of the cargo freighter they had flown in on brushed past them briskly, her arms full; she and her first mate were unloading the crates and boxes full of something-or-other they had brought from Tatooine. She mumbled something to the effect of, ‘we’re here, good luck to you both’ and gave a polite if distracted nod. Shmi thanked her quickly and stepped out into the middle of the port, taking it all in.

The Theed spaceport was awake, but not bustling. Pinkish-gold light pooled on the durasteel floor, spreading out slowly as the solitary sun peeked over the horizon. Scattered groups of people boarded on and off of various ships, some looking dead on their feet and others bright-eyed and aware. A mouse droid rolled about aimlessly, its little metal body glinting in the sun. It turned to avoid running into a pillar and the reflection of the light caught Shmi directly in the eyes. She blinked rapidly until the colorful dancing spots faded and looked down at Anakin, who still sat quietly on her hip. He was observing the spaceport curiously, drinking in every sight with all the eager fascination of a child who was somewhere new and exciting.

Shmi was just as taken with their surroundings as Anakin, and a smile grew on her lips as she continued to look. The spaceport was clean and airy and bright, the marriage of aesthetics to functionality lovely to behold. It had the feeling of calm that busy places got when they were less busy than usual, and sunrise lit the scene with a peaceful radiance. Shmi couldn’t resist closing her eyes for a moment and simply feeling.

The approaching dawn had a dual nature; it seemed to wrap warmly around those who were tired, who yawned widely and fought off sleep by furiously scrubbing their hands across their faces. To those who were fresh and lively, it greeted with the joyous, distant sound of birdsong and a playful bath of golden light upon their skin. It coaxed the serene durasteel of the spaceport to shine, and the last lingering chill of night gave the scene an invigorating energy.

Shmi found herself caught somewhere in the middle of these two sunrise-induced feelings; as she breathed in the Naboo air she was filled with both steady calm and fiery determination. She knew, she just knew, that she and Anakin would be happy here. She would find a good, stable job, and they would make a home here on this soft, sweet world, where the air smelled of flowers and even the spaceports were beautiful. She would raise her son beneath a single, twinless star that shone upon a planet without slavery, and soon he would forget the dirt and dunes of Tatooine where the institution of bondage stood proud.

The Skywalkers would live on Naboo, in freedom forevermore.

Shmi shifted Anakin so that he sat on her other hip, eyeing the door annunciator with apprehension.

The door to this rich man’s home was very fancy and very beautiful; dark, polished Laroon wood, a luxury item Shmi had only glimpsed once or twice in the market. Usually it was carven trinkets that went for good prices, but Shmi had never seen an entire door made from it. It was extravagant.

With all her staring at the door, she didn’t notice that Anakin had reached out to touch it. He ran his hand down the gleaming wood, a fascinated look on his face. “Oooh,” he said. “Mommy, it’s - it’s - it’s -” Shmi waited patiently for him to find the word he wanted. “ - it’s - it’s smooth. It’s smooth. I like it.”

“I like it too,” Shmi said gently. “But Ani, I need you to be on your best behavior while we’re here, okay? Mommy’s trading.”

It was the best way she could think of to make Anakin understand what they were doing here, and why it was so important that he was good; this job, if she got it, would be perfect. Cleaning and upkeeping a wealthy man’s house would be a simple, if laborious and time-consuming, task that would require no skill Shmi didn’t already have. Room and board was even included in the pay, should the applicant choose that option. The flimsiplast ad she’d found in the spaceport had only said ‘references appreciated’ and not ‘references required’, so Shmi was hopeful about her chances, despite her lack of previous experience in ‘professional’ housekeeping.

But Anakin… the advertisement hadn’t said anything about applicants with small children; children who would need to room and board with their mother if she got the job. Of course, if it had said such applicants would need not apply, she wouldn’t be wasting her time here, but not saying that didn’t mean small children were particularly welcome. Shmi could easily see herself being turned down in favor of another, childless applicant. Someone who wouldn’t have to split their attention between housekeeping and motherhood. Someone who wouldn’t add an extra person to the room and board.

But Shmi was determined to let her possible employer know from the first that Anakin should not be considered a reason not to hire her. Taking care of her son had taught her many things, she would tell him, not the least of which was the art of getting stains out of pretty much anything. It had shaped her into a more responsible and hardworking person. It had showed her how long she could go without sleep.

Shmi huffed a laugh at that last thought. Abruptly, she decided she had lingered on the stoop too long and pressed the door annunciator button, not giving herself time to hesitate and grow even more nervous. She faintly heard the bell chime that rang inside the house; it was a deep, rich, clear sound.

And of course, she couldn’t help noticing that the door annunciator itself was just as fancy and beautiful as the luxurious wooden door. The little button, which was a pale cream that had glowed bright yellow when she’d pressed it, was set into the wall beside the door and surrounded by an ‘accent piece’ of what was surely hand-wrought silver. The design was a twisting, coiling loop of metal that went in and around itself so intricately that Shmi could hardly follow it with her eyes. In fact, she couldn’t tell if it was one length of silver or many; it looked like a dancing knot of polished, shining little snakes, or maybe just one long snake that was very graceful.

“Trading?”

Shmi looked down at Anakin, hiking him up further on her hip. He was certainly getting bigger. And heavier. “Hm? What?”

“Trading?” He asked again, expectantly and a bit impatiently.

“Oh. Yes, Ani,” she said, smoothing his hair. “I’m trading. I’m trading my skills for a job to give us money. If I convince the man who lives here to give me the job, we’ll stay in his house while I work. But you have to convince him too, okay? You have to convince him that you’re a very good boy who is quiet and doesn’t get in trouble. Can you do that?”

Anakin seemed to think it over a bit, then nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Okay, Anakin, that’s good. Remember, best behavior.” She planted a quick kiss on his forehead, and just as she pulled back the wooden door slid open and older-model droid greeted her with a bow. “Good morning,” it said flatly. “I am RU-N1, housekeeping. If you are here to apply for the maid position, my Master will receive you upstairs in his study. If you are here for another purpose, please inform me and I will assist you in any way I can.”

Shmi blinked. This man had a housekeeping droid? That didn’t make sense; why would someone with a housekeeping droid, even a slightly outdated one such as this, want to hire a maid?

“Uh, Shmi Skywalker,” she answered eventually. “Yes, I’m here for the maid position.”

“Very well, Shmi Skywalker. I will take you to my Master.” The droid stepped aside to let them in, and when she saw the inside of the house Shmi had to keep herself from gasping. Anakin didn’t bother, and his eyes widened as he whispered, “Wow…”

#my fic #star wars #Anakin and Shmi #Kitster #cinderanakin #this is almost 5000k guys I'm super proud of myself #I really hope it's good #Shmi isn't the easiest to write bc I don't know a whole lot about her #also how?? do you write small children?? I don't know but I tried #anyway I hope you all like it!

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