A New Player in the Force

3.06 Masters and Fathers

... ...

Time drifted in the dim corridors of the Raven like the slow, inexorable turning of the galaxy itself. My steps were measured, and deliberate, each footfall a meditation of intent. Barely thirty minutes had passed since we’d left the station where Lena had been delivered into the hands of the Lokella. But the weight in my chest had grown heavier, more insistent. With the ship now threading through hyperspace toward Eshan, I could no longer defer what had to be done.

I needed to speak with Anakin.

In the days following his rescue, I’d busied myself with the duties that allowed me to avoid this conversation. Returning the children to their families—those that had any left—kept my mind occupied, hands steady. Lena was another matter. Her family was gone, her future handed to strangers. I’d done the best I could for her. But for Anakin? That was a different question.

The emotions I felt from him on the junk world remained at the forefront of my mind. I could feel the storm inside him, roiling beneath the surface. Fear, rage, desperation. They had surged like a broken dam, unleashed at the lizards that had threatened his life, and his friends' lives. And though I would never fault him for using the Force to defend those he loved – how could I, when I had wielded it for far less noble reasons? – what he had done, the decisions he had made in that dark, metal graveyard, needed to be examined. Understood. Controlled.

I reached his quarters. Outside, Fenrir lay sprawled in the half-light, the tuk'ata's gleaming eyes watching me, ever vigilant. The creature had barely left Anakin’s side since we’d pulled him from that hellish place. I knelt beside the beast, scratching behind one of his ears, the familiar rumble of contentment vibrating beneath my fingers.

"Hey, boy," I murmured, feeling the tension of the coming talk press heavier against my mind. "I’m going to be in there for a while. Just… keep watch."

Fenrir gave me a slow blink, his head settling back onto his paws, ever patient.

As Fenrir stood and moved enough that I could reach Anakin’s door, I used the Force to press the buzzer. A moment later the door slid open, and I entered his cabin. It wasn’t as large as mine, though it was close and had formerly been Fay’s quarters on Raven. A bed that could, in theory, just about hold two people was at one end, while a small desk/table with a chair was next to it. A fresher was sealed away in the wall along with various drawers and cabinets, though most of those were empty as Anakin didn’t have a large number of worldly possessions.

He lifted his head as he sat cross-legged on the bed as I approached. His face was drawn and the sense of despondency I’d been feeling from him ever since we’d passed Lena over to the Lokella only grew stronger now I was inside the same room. “I won’t ask if you’re well,” I said as I moved toward the chair at the desk, “what you endured would change anyone, as would what you did to defend yourself and your friends. However, before we talk I want to make one thing abundantly clear.” I sat in the chair and gave him my full undivided attention. His head perked up when I didn’t immediately continue, though once he focused fully on me, I spoke again. “I’m proud of what you did and why you did it.”

“Why?” He asked softly, his voice lacking much of its regular emotion. “I failed.”

“How did you fail?” I countered, keeping my tone gentle and my posture as relaxed as I could without surrendering my position as the adult in the room. He needed to see that my actions and emotions matched my words, and that, whatever he said or felt, I was here for him.

He shifted on the bed, pulling his legs up and then dragging his knees toward his face. “They died because of me,” he said as his arms wrapped around his legs, holding them tight for protection.

I gave him a small, sad smile and shook my head. “No, Anakin, they didn’t. They died because of the Trandoshans.”

I knew this would be coming, knew how personally, even as a boy of not quite ten, he took everything bad that happened around him. How he felt a need to feel responsible for everything that had gone wrong. It was both part of his mentality and how Shmi had raised him, however, in this situation, it was a dangerous and incorrect road to head down.

“I…” He paused and I thought I saw him gulp. “I wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t strong enough.” His head dropped so his forehead rested against his knees. “Kesh, Eshie, the others…”

As his voice trailed off, and understanding what he was feeling, I shifted from the chair and moved to sit beside him on the bed. I moved slowly, not wanting to scare or confuse him, even as the first sniffles reached my ears. Once beside him, I extended an arm and placed it over his shoulders.

I wasn’t going to pull him close, as that might be overstepping things, but as soon as my arm came to rest, he leaned toward me. My other arm came around, pulling him in tight even as his chest crashed against my chest. The sniffles quickly turned to sobs and wails, and as I let him grieve and release the worst of his emotions, I gently drew circles on his back with the palm of one hand, hopefully reassuring him.

Knowing he had to work through this, I stayed quiet though as I did so, I closed my eyes and focused inward. His emotions had been like a solar flare in the Force ever since we’d left the station after handing over Lena, but with him now next to me, it was more akin to a supernova. I knew that I couldn’t allow myself to be overwhelmed by his emotions, otherwise, the message I needed him to hear might get lost.

I wasn’t closing myself off from the Force, as he would sense that and feel, in some way, that it was his fault, which was the last thing I wanted. Instead, I brought forth memories of happier, innocent times I’d spent with him, Bo, Serra, Dooku, Fay, and others. I hoped that by doing so, not only would it help me not drown in the explosion of emotion that was rushing from Anakin, but that he’d sense I wasn’t angry, and was here for him.

I might have only adopted him less than half a year ago, and known him for a few more before that, but by adopting him, I’d made a vow – to myself, him, and the Force – that I’d do everything I could to protect him. I knew that such a vow had the potential to be dangerous, even without the Force able to influence and bend to my will, but it was the right thing to do. I had already lost control once. Already let my desperation lead me to the brink of ruin when I was searching for him. But if it came down to it, I knew—I knew—that I would burn worlds to ash, shatter stars, and tear the very fabric of the galaxy apart, if it meant keeping him safe from the horrors that sought to claim him.

Because he wasn’t just Anakin Skywalker. He was my son. And that meant more than the Force, more than the galaxy, more than anything.

Time had little meaning as he cried and I continued to sit there, silently offering support, but eventually, his cries grew quieter. Eventually, I felt him shifting, and feeling him press against my arms, I loosened my grip. He lifted his head, letting me see the red eyes and cheeks and wet face. My robes would be wet as well, but that was a trivial issue, and I lifted one hand, brushing back bangs of hair that had stuck to his forehead as he cried into my chest.

"Why?" His voice was low, and rough, as if the question had clawed its way up from deep inside him. I could see it in his eyes, the pain, and the confusion. The loss. I reached out, brushing the hair back from his face, a small gesture of comfort. But his eyes, they burned. There was more than just pain there. Rage flickered in the Force, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for release.

"Why did they do this? Why did my friends have to die?" The words came slower now, each one weighed down with grief, but the anger was growing, feeding on the sorrow, threatening to consume it entirely.

I held his gaze, feeling the storm of emotions building inside him. I couldn’t let myself get swept into it. "The Trandoshans," I began, my voice steady, though I could feel the anger rising hot in my throat. "They did what they did because of their god. The Scorekeeper, they call her."

I kept my disgust buried, as much as I could, but even now, I could sense the revulsion twisting my tone. "Their entire existence revolves around earning her favour. They believe that every kill they make, every life they take, earns them points—points that bring them closer to her grace. And while they could hunt beasts for those points, it’s the sentient lives, the people, that grant them the most."

I could feel his anger sharpen at that, a knife edge in the Force, and I didn't blame him. There was no justifying it. No words could make sense of it. "That’s why they feared dying so much when we captured them. For a Trandoshan, to die in captivity is to lose everything. Their points, their honour, and their connection to their god. It all resets to zero."

I let that hang in the air for a moment, watching as the understanding settled into his mind, but the rage still flickered. "That’s why I made sure to take as many of them alive as I could. To break them, not just in body, but in spirit. To strip them of everything they believed mattered."

“Because their god would be angry?”

“Aye, exactly.” I gave him a small smile as I continued. “Being sent to the Scorekeeper pointless is not just an insult to them, but to the clan they come from.”

“I’m glad they’re dead.” Anakin’s words came out almost violently, but as soon as they left his mouth he blinked as if scared at what he’d said. Yet before I could respond, the shock vanished, replaced by the rage he felt toward them.

“As am I,” I said softly, keeping my emotions regarding the species in check. While his showing anger toward them was understandable, I didn’t want him to lose himself in that rage. He wasn’t ready for what it would bring, nor how to handle the danger that would place him in. “By law, I should’ve turned them over to the nearest Republic security force. However, outside of a handful of situations, I retain doubts about the effectiveness and efficiency of the Republic in enforcing its laws. Add in that the Trandoshans have been members of the Republic for millennia, yet the Republic, knowing full well about Trandoshan culture and customs, has never once attempted to reign them in.” I paused, taking a moment to calm myself as I felt my intense dislike toward the species rising and didn’t want that influencing Anakin, or making him think that hunting Trandoshans was something I’d encourage. “That, along with other failings of the Republic, is a topic for another discussion. One that we can have once you are older and more attuned to how the galaxy truly works against how it should work.” He would know some of that having been a slave, and then growing up in a commune of former slaves, but he only had a very narrow understanding of the way the galaxy worked, or should work. “For now, and to repeat myself. What happened to you and your friends, nor the actions you took, are not your fault.”

“But!” I placed a finger to his mouth, cutting off his response.

“No buts, An’ika,” I said. “I’ve reviewed the interaction you had with the first Trandoshan before you were taken.” I took a longer breath than normal, settling the spike of anger I felt whenever I considered the species of walking handbags. Anakin knew I disliked them, but I couldn’t risk my anger merging and enhancing his toward the species. It was up to him how he judged them, not me. “While you were, to be nice about it, short in your comments to the beast, you were far nicer than I would’ve been.” A flicker of a smile flashed over his face, and I suspected he knew exactly how I’d have handled that rude lizard. “The group that came at you from behind never heard your words, nor did they intervene in the discussion before attacking. That, beyond anything else, places the entirety of the blame, and what came after, at their feet.”

“However,” I continued, changing tack slightly to shift Anakin’s focus, “while you are without blame, I am not. Not because I let you wander the station. Simvyl is a capable warrior and more than able to handle most issues that might arise. Getting flanked and attacked by heavily armed aggressors was not something anyone could’ve seen coming. No, my blame lies in, when trying to reach you to save you, I lost control of my anger; letting it cloud my decision-making and granting them the time they needed to escape.”

“That wasn’t your fault!” Anakin shot back after pushing my finger, which was still over his mouth, out of the way. “If not for that, then I’d not have been able to try and save my friends!”

“Yeah, that’s true,” I agreed with a smirk, “and it was because of my failure on the station that you were in the position to help those newly made friends.” Anakin blinked as if seeing he’d walked into the trap I’d laid out with my words. Hopefully, it would also help him understand that he was truly without blame for what had happened. “Without you there, would any of them have survived? For those that didn’t make it, would they have lasted longer if you’d not been there?”

Anakin blinked again, my words driving home the point. “No,” he said quietly, taking his time, I hoped, to process what I was saying. “But they should never have been taken to begin with.”

“No, they shouldn’t,” I agreed with a shake of my head. I wasn’t trying to shift blame for events to the Republic, but given that outside of the Core worlds, and maybe The Colonies, the Republic generally gave zero fucks about the rest of the galaxy, it wasn’t hard to develop an opinion on it. Now, the Republic had tried before to regulate space beyond the Inner Rim, but not since before the New Sith Wars. “However, as I said a few moments ago, the flaws and failures of the Republic are a matter for another time. For now, let’s stay focused on recent events, and the actions you took.”

“O-okay.”

I offered a reassuring smile and placed one hand on a shoulder. “Anakin, as I’ve already said, I don’t blame you. Nor am I angry with what you did, or why. I’m proud of you. Not only did you survive something that many would not, but you worked as hard as you could to save others. Yes, Lena’s family wasn’t there to take her back, but she along with Plirs and Snaxiu survived their kidnapping because of you.”

“B-but the others… E-Eshie, Ke-Kesh…”

I squeezed his shoulder. “We cannot, no matter how hard we try, save everyone, Anakin. Death, as much as it hurts, is part of the cycle of life.” I paused and looked away. There was a topic I wanted to bring up to help him, but I couldn’t make it seem like I’d planned to do so otherwise the lesson might not be understood and taken in. “I learnt this when I was a little younger than you.” Anakin frowned in confusion. “Do you remember when I told you how I was raised by my grandfather, at least until I discovered I could wield the Force and the Sith came for me?” He nodded after a pause, vaguely remembering the talk. That was a relief as when I’d told him of my grandfather before, Anakin hadn’t been aware of how to sense subtle shifts in the Force, and I’d had the Interface to help regulate my emotional reactions permeating into the Force. “In the moment when they came, I knew I had to run, to hide, and if forced to, as much as I might not have understood it, to fight. That said, the ideas only became prevalent when I heard my grandfather – his final words being to run – die. The moment he died, I was equal parts furious and frightened.” I offered him a small, wry smile at that, as it was exactly how he would’ve felt when he was released for the Trandoshans to hunt him and the others. “I drew upon that, used it to help me escape, though I barely did so; only surviving because of a mistake of the Sith apprentice.” The look on the Sith’s face, as I killed her with a lightsaber summoned from my Inventory, was one I’d never forget, even without Eidetic Memory to ensure it. “As you know, after that, due to damage to the hyperdrive of the ship I was on, I ended up at the Jedi Temple.” Minus a slight detour to Dromond Kaas. “The reason I’m bringing this up again is not because of that story, but of what happened during my first mission as a Padawan.” Anakin was listening intently, my speech/story distracting him as I’d hoped it would. “I was sent undercover to try and locate, and if possible, stop a kidnapping and extortion ring that was taking place on Coruscant, not far from the Senate building and the Jedi Temple.”

“But how?” Anakin asked with a creased brow. “Coruscant is the safest place in the galaxy.”

I chuckled at the innocence in his tone. “Coruscant is the Shining Jewel of the Core, the centre of civilization, and the heart of freedom and democracy. Or at least that’s what the Holonet loves to claim,” I added with a shake of my head. “The beauty, the ideals, everything that people say about Coruscant and its grandeur, is only skin-deep. Go a few sectors from the Senate or Jedi Temple, or drop down a handful of levels, and you’ll see the truth. What might once have been a pristine gem is now nothing but a cracked counterfeit. At a distance, it looks real, but the closer you get, the more carefully you examine it, the more apparent it is that it’s anything but what it claims to be.” I chuckled again. “Of course, as I already said, the failings and flaws of the Republic, and by extension Coruscant, is a topic for another time,” I remembered well the flaws and failings of the systems of government and laws from my former life, but what Coruscant, what the Republic had become, dwarfed them all. Not just by the obvious metric of size, but by how far the Republic, with its twisted, corrupted heart, had fallen from the ideals it claimed to embody.

“Returning to my story,” I continued, noting that Anakin was focused entirely on me, and not concerning himself with his self-believed failings. “I, along with two other, and older, Padawans, were placed undercover with roles that should, in theory, draw the attention of the kidnappers. I was assigned as the distant, long-lost nephew of a Senator and spent months living with him and his staff waiting for something to happen.” Anakin was leaning forward, being drawn into my story, which was what I’d hoped for. “Which it finally did, much to my embarrassment.

“I’d sensed myself being approached, felt the inkling of danger gathering and thought I could handle it,” I grunted in amusement. “Of course, I failed, and when I awoke I found myself, much as you did, inside a cage. There the kidnappers confronted me, telling me that if my uncle didn’t pay the ransom, then I would be sold into slavery.” Anakin’s face twisted, his opinions on slavers clear for anyone to see. “Like you, I didn’t reveal I could use the force right away, preferring to keep it up my sleeve so that I could use it later. I did so once I was left alone, and once sure there was no one nearby, I escaped my cage.”

“How?”

“I Phased through the bars. One day, I will teach you how to do that,” I added quickly, not wanting him to consider trying it for himself. Certainly not until I rediscovered how to do it myself. “However, you aren’t yet ready for that lesson.” He huffed, much to my amusement, as I returned to my story. “Once free, I began scouting the ship I was on. It didn’t take long for me to discover that my fellow Padawans had been captured before me, and to realise that my captors did more than just kidnap and sell people. They did things that…” I paused and pinched the bridge of my nose. “That they deserved to die for.”

“Why didn’t you know they’d been caught? The other Padawans, I mean.”

“That is a very good question, and one I put to the Jedi Council once the mission was over. Their answer, while making some sense, wasn’t one I agreed with. Then or now. I still believe that their not alerting me to the capture of the other Padawans placed me in greater danger than informing me of the change would’ve done. Of course, knowing what had happened, might have altered how I’d behaved, preventing me from being captured, and thus being in a position to free the others.” Anakin frowned, and while he didn’t seem to fully be grasping my point, I hoped he was getting some of it. To be sure, I added a little extra. “Sometimes, as much as we might dislike it, it is necessary for those in command of a plan to not provide full details to those they command.”

“Like when you freed Naboo?”

I blinked, not expecting that pivot. “Yes, though that was a very different situation,” I quickly replied. “The commanders of the various battles, be it those on the plains, targeting Theed and other cities, or in orbit above, know the overall plan of battle. The way their elements all linked together, and how, however, were only known to a handful.” Anakin gave a nod of understanding. “Returning to my story, after discovering my fellow Padawans aboard the ship, learning their condition, and the status of the other children taken, I turned my focus to the slavers. All were taken out, and only a few were able to be turned over to Republic security forces once we reached a safe world.”

I might not like Jon Savos, but what he went through I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I could still see his face, still hear the pained, terrified wails he’d emitted when I’d discovered him strapped to a table. My anger at the time had been easier to control, due to Player’s Mind, but my reaction to the discovery, and my choice to take out every slaver on the vessel without concern of their condition was not something I regretted.

What I had to be careful of, as with each memory that I’d touched on today, was that Anakin didn’t pick up on my feelings; or more accurately, didn’t think they were because of him. That was why, when I finished telling him the tale, I took a few moments, ensuing I took deep, slow breaths to calm my nerves.

“What happened after?”

“Along with my fellow Padawans, I returned to Coruscant and was greeted by our Masters.” I paused, memories of how nervous Bultar had been about seeing Master Giiett again coming to the fore. “One of my fellow Padawans had been nervous about seeing her Master again, worried he might punish her for getting captured. Instead, he simply stated that even when we do everything perfectly, bad things can happen.”

“But I didn’t do everything right,” Anakin cut in, seeing the message I was trying to pass along. “I couldn’t get everyone to come with me.”

“Yes, but even if you had, can you be sure that everyone would’ve survived?” I countered with a small smile. “All we can ever do is the best we can. Most of the time that won’t be enough, but as long as we try, that is all anyone can ever ask of you. We’re not droids, after all. We all have needs, intentions, and drives. Sometimes these align with others, but at other times they don’t.

“Often, that isn’t an issue. However, in critical or tense situations, such as your kidnapping, the fact everyone is unique with their own desires and wants, can cause issues.” I lifted my hand from his shoulder and ruffled his hair. “You did all that you could to convince them to follow you. They chose not to, as is their right. That means their fate, their deaths, aren’t on you. It lies only with those who placed them in that situation in the first place.”

“I hate them.”

I blinked, trying to hide my reaction to Anakin’s comment. Not so much for the comment itself, as I despised the Trandoshans as well, but for the eruption of rage mixed with certainty that radiated from him within the Force. The lights in the room flickered, suggesting Raven sensed Anakin’s fury as well, which meant Fenrir probably had as well. While he lacked the depth of connection to them that I held, Anakin was close with both and we were all, in our odd little way, family.

“That is understandable,” I said careful of my tone and how I reacted to his outburst in the Force. “What you went through was beyond terrifying. If you had come out the other side, acting and saying that nothing had changed, then I would be truly worried for you, I’d be deeply concerned. Yet, while being angry, upset, or enraged over anything is an entirely natural reaction because we not only can sense the Force and draw upon it but because our connections to it are, potentially, stronger than any other in the galaxy, we have to be extremely wary of allowing our emotions to rule us. Our feelings and desires can easily bleed into the Force, altering it in ways we might not understand or be able to predict, which can easily alter and unbalance us.”

“Is that why Jedi aren’t meant to seek vengeance?”

“Yes, exactly. Vengeance is the act of seeking revenge for an injustice. Now, I’m not saying that justice, peace, and the rule of law aren’t worth fighting for. What I’m talking about, and I admit it is a lesson I’m still learning, is knowing how to temper our need for revenge with our demands for justice. How to find that point where, if we go further, we no longer are interested in upholding the rule of law, but in sating out thirst for retribution.” I sighed and shook my head, letting down some of my guard so he could sense some of how I felt about protecting those important to me. “Like you, I’m an emotional person. I want to do everything I can to help others, especially those I consider friends or family.” That drew a flicker of a smile from him. “However, I know that if I get lost in my need to protect others, to seek justice for wrongs, I can lose myself. Something that, when I was captured by the Bando Gora, almost cost me my life in my battle with Komari Vosa. Since then, I’ve spent considerable time trying to learn how to temper my emotions so that, in the heat of conflict, I am the master of my fate, and not them or the Force.”

“Bo said that Mandalorians use vengeance to help them through their darkest hours.”

I sighed again and shook my head, making a note to discover what else she had taught Anakin, and how to best punish her for actions. “Bo isn’t wrong. However, while we are Mando’ade, the strong connection we have with the Force, and to each other and others, means that we have to hold ourselves to higher ideals than most other Mando’ade. If not all other sentients.”

“So I shouldn’t seek vengeance? Shouldn't I want to kill others for hurting my friends and family?” There was an edge to his tone, one that made clear his dislike of what he thought I was saying. At the same time, I sensed his thoughts shifting toward his mother and the promise I’d made to train him so that he could kill Decca the Hutt for ordering the attack that killed Shmi.

“As I said, seeking vengeance isn’t the same as wanting justice,” I replied, gently squeezing his upper arm. “Your mother deserves justice, and when the time comes, when you are ready to do so, I will stand beside you when we strike at the Hutt responsible. However, just because we seek to kill that Hutt, doesn’t mean we should widen our need for justice to every other Hutt in existence, or every sentient that Decca hired for the assault. That would be seeking retribution beyond the need for justice and, given the number of beings we’d have to kill to get to every Hutt, would mean the death of a substantial percentage of the galaxy.

“Like you, I have an intense dislike…” I paused and shook my head. “No, that’s the wrong word. Like you, I hate the Trandoshans and despise the Hutts and what they stand for. However, I know that those feelings are irrational even if they are a part of me. Because of that, and the fact I can wield the Force, I’m left with three possible paths down which to travel.

“I can, as the Jedi insist we should let go of all my anger. Or I could, as the Sith are claimed to preach, give into it, and hope it never betrays me. Or, and I admit this is very much a theory at the moment, I could use those feelings, however irrational or not they might be, to empower me; to help me shape my path and prepare for whatever threats – be that Trandoshans, Hutts or others – that await me in the future.”

I took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, gathering my thoughts. That last path was the one Adas was preaching, and it was the one I’d stepped onto to retain control of my emotions when I saved Anakin. In that moment, it had been the right path, but I feared that it wasn’t one that I should head down. Or that if I did, I would become no better than the ancient Sith King, or the Banite Sith Lords, in my need for power and control.

“I have tried, ever since first learning I could wield the Force, to do as the Jedi insist it should. I’ve tried, sometimes desperately, to release my feelings – good and bad – into the Force and move forward with my life. To give my fate over to the Force.” I chuckled as images of everyone that had ever mattered to me flashed through my thoughts. “For better or worse, that path didn’t work for me. Nor, if I’m being honest, do I expect it to work for you. However, over the coming years you need to attempt following it; to see if I’m wrong and that you can be the good Jedi others would wish you to be.”

I was all but certain that Anakin, like me, would never be able to follow the Jedi path of letting go of his emotions or letting events play out without attempting to alter them to protect those he cared about. That was the flaw that Sidious exploited over a decade to turn him into Vader. However, this Anakin wasn’t that one, and I at least had to attempt to see if the Jedi path might work for him. To do otherwise would be a failure on my part as both his Master and father.

“What about the other ways?”

“Those paths… are ones that, clearly, the Jedi – and others – wouldn’t agree with,” I answered carefully, mindful of my words. “For now, for your training, we’ll focus on trying you on the path of the Jedi. It is the one you have the most exposure to, both from myself and from Master Dooku. The other paths… we can discuss them in a few years if you feel unable to be a Jedi.”

I wasn’t going to hide those paths from him, nor deny him the chance to at least learn about them. However, I was reluctant to discuss them currently. Not least as I was still determining what exactly the third path, the one offered by Adas, truly demanded from those who took it. So far, from what little I’d adapted of Adas’ teachings into my thinking, it felt like the correct path, but I wasn’t going to dive headlong down it. Not when such a thing carried the risk of me becoming a Sith.

Adas wasn’t a Sith in the sense that Sidious and Plagueis were. He was an older, perhaps even truer, style of Sith. One born of the species and not those that came later having been expelled from the Jedi. However, like the Banite Sith, the path Adas had walked, and that I knew he wanted me to walk, was one many would consider dark if not outright evil.

I knew there was darkness inside me, and not just because Eidetic Memory prevented me from letting go of my feelings. I had always been capable of doing dangerous things, something that had carried over from my former life. The issue that I was facing, and needed to reconcile myself with, was that, when taking out the Trandoshans that had kidnapped Anakin, I’d enjoyed what I’d done. As much as it concerned me, I’d revelled in the terror I’d induced in them once they understood I would send them to their god as failures, and enjoyed watching as the spark of pitiful intelligence they possessed was extinguished by my hand. That was something I needed time to process, to resolve so that I didn’t go forth in this life seeking out those moments merely to find a, for lack of a better term, contact high.

“Wh…” Anakin’s stuttered start to a sentence drew my thoughts back to him. “What if the Jedi path doesn’t work for me like it doesn’t for you?” His head had dropped down to rest on his knees again, seeking solace in the position. “What if… what if I do what I did again and enjoy it?”

I gave his arm another squeeze and shifted closer, placing my free hand on his other arm. “Then, if that day comes, we’ll work on finding a path for you that does work. One that won’t see you getting lost in the enjoyment of such acts, that won’t see you surrender your humanity, your individuality, in some need for further enjoyment.”

This topic would be returned to in a few years, regardless of whether Anakin could follow the Jedi path or not. All I could hope was that by then, either he had committed to the Jedi, or I knew the path I wished to follow and felt safe in seeing if he was capable and interested in following me along it. I won’t force him to follow, he was his own person. I might be his Master and father, but that gave me no right to determine his fate. All I could do was ensure that, when he made his choice, I was capable of supporting it and helping him grow into the man he was always meant to become.

I knew that if I wasn’t careful if he attempted to follow me now down the path I was considering currently, then all I’d be doing was creating a monster. One that would be a threat to not just me, but everyone else. That path was one I knew would see everything I’d done, everything I was trying to do, to alter the future of the galaxy, fail miserably. The visions I’d shared with him weren’t certain futures, but there had been enough in them, and others since, that made clear that, if we were to prevent the Banite Sith from ruling over the galaxy, from bringing forth whatever darkness they sought to unleash, we had to stand together. Otherwise, we and everything we cared for and loved, would be destroyed.