fic: scientia [anakin, ensemble, AU]
Title: Scientia
Author:albumsontheside
Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Darth Sidious, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala ... oh, god. Everyone. Literally. Everyone.
Timeline: post-ROTS; AU.
Word Count: 2205
Summary: Anakin Skywalker is twenty-three years, seven months and twenty-one days old when he has a conversation that changes his life forever.
Anakin Skywalker is twenty-three years, seven months and twenty-one days old when he has a conversation that changes his life forever.
“Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis "the wise"?” Palpatine asks him, smiling benevolently.
“No.” He swallows, tunic damp with sweat. "I haven't."
“I thought not.” A pause. “It is not a story that the Jedi would tell you …”
.
"Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith, so powerful and so wise, he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians to create life."
.
Anakin Skywalker is twenty-three years, seven months and twenty-two days old when he sells his soul to the devil.
"Kill him, Anakin!" Sidious howls, face decimated by lightening. "He's a traitor!"
"No, Skywalker!" Windu shouts. "He's the traitor--"
He never finishes his sentence. Darth Vader throws him through the open window to his death as the Dark side of the Force uncoils itself within his red-gold eyes, opens itself to power and tastes the future.
“Good. Good!” Sidious laughs as they watch Windu’s body plummet from the open window, feeling the ripple of his death in the Force. “You have done well, my young apprentice.”
“I thank you, my Master.” He mutters, swallowing, trying to still his shaking hands..
“And now, we shall make peace in my new Empire!”
"But what of Padmé?" He stumbles over the words, thick and heavy on his tongue like lead. "When will I be strong enough to save her?"
"My dear boy," Sidious smiles, turning to him, "you must be strong with the Dark Side before you can save your wife."
"And what of our Empire?"
"My Empire?"
Rage.
Vader acts almost on instinct, almost on a pre-learned whim as he lets go, unthinking as he thumbs the button on his lightsabre, the blade flashing a cerulean blue. Sidious barely even has time to draw breath before the blade impales his midriff, killing him instantly.
“No!” He screams, eyes aglow. “The galaxy is mine!”
.
Darth Vader is twenty-three years, seven months and twenty-two days old when he declares himself emperor.
“And so, I am creating a new era!” He cries, gloved hands raised to the cheering masses. “A new Galactic Empire!”
(Less than a parsec away, clone troopers march through the Temple, killing every Jedi on sight. The cheering crowds, however, have no time for dead children, or for betrayal, as Vader cries peace and they burst into thunderous applause.)
.
Darth Vader is twenty-three years, seven months and thirty days old when he realises that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
“What have you done?” She cries, arms folded over her rounded stomach as though to physically protect their -- his -- child from his grasp. “What have you done?”
“I have brought peace to my new Empire!” He shouts, arm raised as though to strike her.
“Your new Empire?” She asks incredulously. "But the Jedi, they --"
“The Jedi are gone." He snarls.
"And what of democracy?"
"There is no need for democracy." He snaps. "I am democracy!"
"No." She is shaking her head furiously, terrified. “I don’t know you any more.” She whispers, tears trickling down her cheeks. “You’re breaking my heart!”
“Enough!” He snaps. “My new powers have saved you!”
“No.” She swallows. “You could have saved me. But you’re dead. This … this new power killed you.”
It is the first time that he ever raises his hand to his wife. The smack echoes through the halls, unnaturally loud.
.
Darth Vader is twenty-three years, eight months and twenty-six days old when the world begins to unravel around him.
“He promised I could save her!” He screams. “He promised I could save her!”
“Your Majesty --“
“I gave up my life to save her!” His temper is a living thing, dominating the room. “I gave up everything, even the Je--“ He snaps the sentence off like a gunshot, biting his tongue on the fateful word, almost committing treason against his own empire. There is a pause. “Do it.” He says simply, the forbidden sentiment leaving a foul taste in his mouth.
“We do not have the resources --“
“Then find them!” He shouts, smashing his glass onto the floor.
"Where?" The man asks, eyes clouded with an emotion that is impossible to identify. "Where will I find these resources?"
Vader thinks of the Temple once more -- for the last time, he reminds himself, just like the other fifty-nine last times before that -- of the troops marching through the archives, setting the precious holocrons alight. "That is fyour juristdiction, professor. Not mine."
"But the current medical care she is recieving is more than adequate --"
He flushes with anger, spits the words out like steel. “I warn you --“
The palace aide enters the room, head bowed in deference. Vader rises.
“You have news of my wife?”
“I’m sorry, your majesty.” The aide whispers, eyes on the floor. “She died five minutes ago.”
.
Anakin Skywalker is twenty-three years, eight months and twenty-six days oldwhen he realises the truth.
He never wanted to be immortal.
He just feared death.
.
"He had such a knowledge of the dark side, he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying."
.
Darth Vader is twenty-three years, eight months and thirty-one days old when he attends the funeral of Padmé Amidala and the child she was carrying, sequestered at the back of the hall like an intruder while the holy man chants the mass for the dead and the incense rises in front of her image in whirls of smoke, choking him.
The few well-wishers who are left to attend Amidala’s funeral ignore him, muttering half-hearted condolences as they pass him standing in front of her bier like a black-robed statue. And then at last -- at last -- he is alone in the empty room, alone with her body, alone with her, with her skin that is too pale and her hands that are too cold.
“I brought peace to my empire.” He whispers, hand shaking in her grasp. “I brought peace.”
He almost cries. But a Dark Lord of the Sith never, ever, cries.
.
"It is ironic that he could save others from death."
.
Darth Vader is twenty-eight years, five months and twenty-five days old when he attends the funeral of Leité Apailana, the assassinated Queen of Naboo.
He stands again at the back of the crowded square, watching the body pass by in ceremonial white robes, and tries not to think about the last time he saw her, staring accusingly at the space where his eyes should have been, blood dripping from her hair and down onto her remembrance-scarred lip and those white, white robes.
He swears he sees a host of familiar faces in the crowd, long-dead and taunting him. There’s Sio Bibble there, walking in line, dead for a year, and Sabé holding a candle, back from the grave, and -- and Force, it’s Mace Windu standing there, Mace Windu giving the oration, black-robed and bespectacled. And he almost ignites his lightsabre, only to remember that Mace Windu is dead, and that this man is nobody worth killing. He checks the programme anyway, though.
Mace Cassió.
He counts handmaidens to distract himself. Leité Apailana has eighteen pallbearers, one for every year.
.
Darth Vader is thirty-one years, nine months and twenty-two days old when he tracks Obi-Wan Kenobi down to Tatooine and kills him. It is a difficult duel -- for both of them -- but for just a second there it’s like old times, like sparring together in the Temple salles, fighting in tandem as they protect good and vanquish evil, fighting like brothers, like Jedi as they --
“She called your name as she died, you know.” Kenobi whispers, eyes on his face.
The spell is broken. His lightsabre swishes cleanly through his brother’s neck, blade flashing.
.
Darth Vader is thirty-eight years, six months and seven days old when he survives his first assassination attempt. The physicians will forever fail to understand how the man shot the emperor five times in the gut, yet the emperor survived without so much as a scar. There wasn’t even any blood.
In his chambers, Vader cuts his unbroken skin. It heals automatically, and that is when he breaks.
There wasn’t even any blood.
.
"Ironic. He could save others from death, but not himself."
.
Darth Vader is forty years, three months and nine days old when he carves lines into his face with the tip of his blade, carrying out the job which Time had failed to do. The laughter lines and wrinkles and lightsabre burns smooth out cleanly into unbroken skin, as though they had never been there at all. He hacks at his face harder, anger flaring, smashing every mirror in the palace in his rage.
His courtiers whisper as he walks down the halls. He strangles them all, even the ones that look like his boyhood friends.
.
Darth Vader is forty-one years, eleven months and twenty-six days old when his apprentice kills him in his sleep.
He should have expected it sooner, to be sure, but it still comes as a surprise to see Marek thumbing the activation switch and the blade flaring to life and streaking in a red blur towards his stomach and driving through the soft flesh. He hauls himself upright with a little aid from the Force, unable to hide his disappointment at living, at breathing, at the flesh closing up to hide where his guts had been spilling out onto the floor. His apprentice mewls in fear, eyes wide, trying to extract the weapon from Vader’s chest in order to defend himself, but he is too slow, and Vader holds it firm.
“Tell me, Marek.” He hisses, eyes glowing with anger. “Did you ever hear the legend of Darth Plageuis the wise?”
.
Darth Vader is fifty years, two months and eighteen days old when he welcomes a new Moff to the Council, sweating with fear and shock and déjà vu.
“Congratulations, Moff Darrén.” He says flatly, eyes anywhere but his face.
“Please, sire.” He smiles, left cheek dimpling just like that. “Call me Ben.”
.
Darth Vader is sixty-one years, eight months and sixteen days old when he boards a transport on Imperial Centre. She is sitting opposite him, giggling, wearing the uniform of an elite academy he dimly recognises, skirt tucked up to show her sixteen-year-old knees.
Their eyes meet. Her next breath is sharp.
“And then,” her companion chatters on, obliviously, “I said to him, I -- ‘Soka? Ahsoka, you listening?”
She stares at him, eyes wide. He stares back, horrified. Inside his gloves, his hands are shaking.
(Force help him, he thinks, she even has the same smile --!)
.
Darth Vader is eighty-nine years, ten months and fifteen days old when he makes a state visit to Naboo, intent on drowning his memories as the once-remembered scenery rolls by.
“We are so glad you chose to attend, Your Majesty.” The young woman says with a smile. “I’m Senator Shmi Asará of the Chommell Sector -- may I show you inside?”
.
Darth Vader is ninety-two years, four months and thirty-one days old when he sees the back of her head in a crowd, rushing towards a transport at full speed, and dear gods, he can’t help himself --
“Padmé!” He screams, the words ripped from his mouth by an unknown force. “Padmé, it’s me!”
She pauses, turns to face him -- and gods, oh godsgodsgods, she’s even got the same eyes --
“Do I know you?” She asks and, Force be damned, her voice, her voice is still the same --
The crowds press around them, and he remembers himself. “No.” He says quietly, dropping his gaze. “You don’t.”
She looks at him strangely, before opening her comlink and continuing on, lost in the crowd. “Palo, habibte, it’s me …”
.
Darth Vader is a hundred and five years, eight months and twelve days old when he swears he has a vision of what could have been.
“I’m sorry, Prince and Princess.” He says smoothly, perched on his throne, “but I must reject your joint bid for the Senator of Alderaan. We cannot allow for two Senators to represent a single system.”
Leia Organa huffs, eyes flashing. “Very well.” She hisses, her curtsey slightly shallower than is deemed appropriate. “Come on, Luke. Let’s go.”
.
Darth Vader is a hundred and twelve years, twelve months and ten days old when he attempts to draw on the Light side of the Force. He finds, to his utmost dismay, that he cannot, and that, that is when he realises that he is doomed. Because he realises that the cure had been in front of him for his entire life, had he only been able to open his eyes.
“Plagueis never saw it coming. It's ironic he could save others from death, but not himself.”
A group of children is standing in front of him, eyeing the flocks of mu’chka birds in wonder, lightpens and flimsi at the ready, preparing to draw.
“Oh no,” one whispers. “There are so many of them. What are we going to do?”
Author:albumsontheside
Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Darth Sidious, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala ... oh, god. Everyone. Literally. Everyone.
Timeline: post-ROTS; AU.
Word Count: 2205
Summary: Anakin Skywalker is twenty-three years, seven months and twenty-one days old when he has a conversation that changes his life forever.
Anakin Skywalker is twenty-three years, seven months and twenty-one days old when he has a conversation that changes his life forever.
“Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis "the wise"?” Palpatine asks him, smiling benevolently.
“No.” He swallows, tunic damp with sweat. "I haven't."
“I thought not.” A pause. “It is not a story that the Jedi would tell you …”
.
"Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith, so powerful and so wise, he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians to create life."
.
Anakin Skywalker is twenty-three years, seven months and twenty-two days old when he sells his soul to the devil.
"Kill him, Anakin!" Sidious howls, face decimated by lightening. "He's a traitor!"
"No, Skywalker!" Windu shouts. "He's the traitor--"
He never finishes his sentence. Darth Vader throws him through the open window to his death as the Dark side of the Force uncoils itself within his red-gold eyes, opens itself to power and tastes the future.
“Good. Good!” Sidious laughs as they watch Windu’s body plummet from the open window, feeling the ripple of his death in the Force. “You have done well, my young apprentice.”
“I thank you, my Master.” He mutters, swallowing, trying to still his shaking hands..
“And now, we shall make peace in my new Empire!”
"But what of Padmé?" He stumbles over the words, thick and heavy on his tongue like lead. "When will I be strong enough to save her?"
"My dear boy," Sidious smiles, turning to him, "you must be strong with the Dark Side before you can save your wife."
"And what of our Empire?"
"My Empire?"
Rage.
Vader acts almost on instinct, almost on a pre-learned whim as he lets go, unthinking as he thumbs the button on his lightsabre, the blade flashing a cerulean blue. Sidious barely even has time to draw breath before the blade impales his midriff, killing him instantly.
“No!” He screams, eyes aglow. “The galaxy is mine!”
.
Darth Vader is twenty-three years, seven months and twenty-two days old when he declares himself emperor.
“And so, I am creating a new era!” He cries, gloved hands raised to the cheering masses. “A new Galactic Empire!”
(Less than a parsec away, clone troopers march through the Temple, killing every Jedi on sight. The cheering crowds, however, have no time for dead children, or for betrayal, as Vader cries peace and they burst into thunderous applause.)
.
Darth Vader is twenty-three years, seven months and thirty days old when he realises that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
“What have you done?” She cries, arms folded over her rounded stomach as though to physically protect their -- his -- child from his grasp. “What have you done?”
“I have brought peace to my new Empire!” He shouts, arm raised as though to strike her.
“Your new Empire?” She asks incredulously. "But the Jedi, they --"
“The Jedi are gone." He snarls.
"And what of democracy?"
"There is no need for democracy." He snaps. "I am democracy!"
"No." She is shaking her head furiously, terrified. “I don’t know you any more.” She whispers, tears trickling down her cheeks. “You’re breaking my heart!”
“Enough!” He snaps. “My new powers have saved you!”
“No.” She swallows. “You could have saved me. But you’re dead. This … this new power killed you.”
It is the first time that he ever raises his hand to his wife. The smack echoes through the halls, unnaturally loud.
.
Darth Vader is twenty-three years, eight months and twenty-six days old when the world begins to unravel around him.
“He promised I could save her!” He screams. “He promised I could save her!”
“Your Majesty --“
“I gave up my life to save her!” His temper is a living thing, dominating the room. “I gave up everything, even the Je--“ He snaps the sentence off like a gunshot, biting his tongue on the fateful word, almost committing treason against his own empire. There is a pause. “Do it.” He says simply, the forbidden sentiment leaving a foul taste in his mouth.
“We do not have the resources --“
“Then find them!” He shouts, smashing his glass onto the floor.
"Where?" The man asks, eyes clouded with an emotion that is impossible to identify. "Where will I find these resources?"
Vader thinks of the Temple once more -- for the last time, he reminds himself, just like the other fifty-nine last times before that -- of the troops marching through the archives, setting the precious holocrons alight. "That is fyour juristdiction, professor. Not mine."
"But the current medical care she is recieving is more than adequate --"
He flushes with anger, spits the words out like steel. “I warn you --“
The palace aide enters the room, head bowed in deference. Vader rises.
“You have news of my wife?”
“I’m sorry, your majesty.” The aide whispers, eyes on the floor. “She died five minutes ago.”
.
Anakin Skywalker is twenty-three years, eight months and twenty-six days oldwhen he realises the truth.
He never wanted to be immortal.
He just feared death.
.
"He had such a knowledge of the dark side, he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying."
.
Darth Vader is twenty-three years, eight months and thirty-one days old when he attends the funeral of Padmé Amidala and the child she was carrying, sequestered at the back of the hall like an intruder while the holy man chants the mass for the dead and the incense rises in front of her image in whirls of smoke, choking him.
The few well-wishers who are left to attend Amidala’s funeral ignore him, muttering half-hearted condolences as they pass him standing in front of her bier like a black-robed statue. And then at last -- at last -- he is alone in the empty room, alone with her body, alone with her, with her skin that is too pale and her hands that are too cold.
“I brought peace to my empire.” He whispers, hand shaking in her grasp. “I brought peace.”
He almost cries. But a Dark Lord of the Sith never, ever, cries.
.
"It is ironic that he could save others from death."
.
Darth Vader is twenty-eight years, five months and twenty-five days old when he attends the funeral of Leité Apailana, the assassinated Queen of Naboo.
He stands again at the back of the crowded square, watching the body pass by in ceremonial white robes, and tries not to think about the last time he saw her, staring accusingly at the space where his eyes should have been, blood dripping from her hair and down onto her remembrance-scarred lip and those white, white robes.
He swears he sees a host of familiar faces in the crowd, long-dead and taunting him. There’s Sio Bibble there, walking in line, dead for a year, and Sabé holding a candle, back from the grave, and -- and Force, it’s Mace Windu standing there, Mace Windu giving the oration, black-robed and bespectacled. And he almost ignites his lightsabre, only to remember that Mace Windu is dead, and that this man is nobody worth killing. He checks the programme anyway, though.
Mace Cassió.
He counts handmaidens to distract himself. Leité Apailana has eighteen pallbearers, one for every year.
.
Darth Vader is thirty-one years, nine months and twenty-two days old when he tracks Obi-Wan Kenobi down to Tatooine and kills him. It is a difficult duel -- for both of them -- but for just a second there it’s like old times, like sparring together in the Temple salles, fighting in tandem as they protect good and vanquish evil, fighting like brothers, like Jedi as they --
“She called your name as she died, you know.” Kenobi whispers, eyes on his face.
The spell is broken. His lightsabre swishes cleanly through his brother’s neck, blade flashing.
.
Darth Vader is thirty-eight years, six months and seven days old when he survives his first assassination attempt. The physicians will forever fail to understand how the man shot the emperor five times in the gut, yet the emperor survived without so much as a scar. There wasn’t even any blood.
In his chambers, Vader cuts his unbroken skin. It heals automatically, and that is when he breaks.
There wasn’t even any blood.
.
"Ironic. He could save others from death, but not himself."
.
Darth Vader is forty years, three months and nine days old when he carves lines into his face with the tip of his blade, carrying out the job which Time had failed to do. The laughter lines and wrinkles and lightsabre burns smooth out cleanly into unbroken skin, as though they had never been there at all. He hacks at his face harder, anger flaring, smashing every mirror in the palace in his rage.
His courtiers whisper as he walks down the halls. He strangles them all, even the ones that look like his boyhood friends.
.
Darth Vader is forty-one years, eleven months and twenty-six days old when his apprentice kills him in his sleep.
He should have expected it sooner, to be sure, but it still comes as a surprise to see Marek thumbing the activation switch and the blade flaring to life and streaking in a red blur towards his stomach and driving through the soft flesh. He hauls himself upright with a little aid from the Force, unable to hide his disappointment at living, at breathing, at the flesh closing up to hide where his guts had been spilling out onto the floor. His apprentice mewls in fear, eyes wide, trying to extract the weapon from Vader’s chest in order to defend himself, but he is too slow, and Vader holds it firm.
“Tell me, Marek.” He hisses, eyes glowing with anger. “Did you ever hear the legend of Darth Plageuis the wise?”
.
Darth Vader is fifty years, two months and eighteen days old when he welcomes a new Moff to the Council, sweating with fear and shock and déjà vu.
“Congratulations, Moff Darrén.” He says flatly, eyes anywhere but his face.
“Please, sire.” He smiles, left cheek dimpling just like that. “Call me Ben.”
.
Darth Vader is sixty-one years, eight months and sixteen days old when he boards a transport on Imperial Centre. She is sitting opposite him, giggling, wearing the uniform of an elite academy he dimly recognises, skirt tucked up to show her sixteen-year-old knees.
Their eyes meet. Her next breath is sharp.
“And then,” her companion chatters on, obliviously, “I said to him, I -- ‘Soka? Ahsoka, you listening?”
She stares at him, eyes wide. He stares back, horrified. Inside his gloves, his hands are shaking.
(Force help him, he thinks, she even has the same smile --!)
.
Darth Vader is eighty-nine years, ten months and fifteen days old when he makes a state visit to Naboo, intent on drowning his memories as the once-remembered scenery rolls by.
“We are so glad you chose to attend, Your Majesty.” The young woman says with a smile. “I’m Senator Shmi Asará of the Chommell Sector -- may I show you inside?”
.
Darth Vader is ninety-two years, four months and thirty-one days old when he sees the back of her head in a crowd, rushing towards a transport at full speed, and dear gods, he can’t help himself --
“Padmé!” He screams, the words ripped from his mouth by an unknown force. “Padmé, it’s me!”
She pauses, turns to face him -- and gods, oh godsgodsgods, she’s even got the same eyes --
“Do I know you?” She asks and, Force be damned, her voice, her voice is still the same --
The crowds press around them, and he remembers himself. “No.” He says quietly, dropping his gaze. “You don’t.”
She looks at him strangely, before opening her comlink and continuing on, lost in the crowd. “Palo, habibte, it’s me …”
.
Darth Vader is a hundred and five years, eight months and twelve days old when he swears he has a vision of what could have been.
“I’m sorry, Prince and Princess.” He says smoothly, perched on his throne, “but I must reject your joint bid for the Senator of Alderaan. We cannot allow for two Senators to represent a single system.”
Leia Organa huffs, eyes flashing. “Very well.” She hisses, her curtsey slightly shallower than is deemed appropriate. “Come on, Luke. Let’s go.”
.
Darth Vader is a hundred and twelve years, twelve months and ten days old when he attempts to draw on the Light side of the Force. He finds, to his utmost dismay, that he cannot, and that, that is when he realises that he is doomed. Because he realises that the cure had been in front of him for his entire life, had he only been able to open his eyes.
“Plagueis never saw it coming. It's ironic he could save others from death, but not himself.”
A group of children is standing in front of him, eyeing the flocks of mu’chka birds in wonder, lightpens and flimsi at the ready, preparing to draw.
“Oh no,” one whispers. “There are so many of them. What are we going to do?”