#x-tober2020

[severnlight]

Day 04 [Flufftober]: Wounded *from Swords and Starflowers AU* ⚔️💮⚔️

Anakin managed to sneak out of the grand reception room and made a beeline straight out for the gardens. Why his Lord Father insisted on his presence at these boring political deliberations whenever they were held at their estate was beyond him. None of the other noble families brought their offspring at the young age of sixteen. Good thing the elders had taken a break for some refreshments, which had chanced him with this golden opportunity to vanish. He could not sit through another minute of their droning - he would much rather endure his father’s reproach for his lapse later.

Anakin took a sharp turn into the imposing garden labyrinth, and went wherever his instincts led him. Let’s see how they would find him here. He made his way through the maze as he had done countless times before, taking random turns, feeling the pull of the Force. The labyrinth was his Father’s pride, an engineering marvel, with hidden gems of manicured garden spots and even two practice arenas hidden in the design blueprints. It was not meant to be easily navigated for people who did not have magic, his Father had told him.

Today, the magic pulled on him in that very particular way, usually a predictor of something significant about to unfold. Or it could just be Chef making his favorite dessert - he never knew. After another sharp turn, Anakin found himself out of the maze and into the central arena. He took the familiar gravel path, shaded by two rows of tall plumerias, but before he reached the open arena, he felt danger looming from the side. Something collapsed behind the nearest plumeria bush, and one of the branches nicked his cheek, followed by a crashing archery practice target. He barely managed to duck out of the way, hand and knee hitting the gravel, and gasped in pain. There was a quarrel embedded in the broken target at his feet.

Behind the unfortunate plumeria, someone was trying to make their way to him. Undoubtedly, the person who shot the crossbow.

“Are you mad?!” He yelled, and jumped up, trying to get the dust and gravel off his hand and sleeve.

“Are you alright?” The voice behind the plumerias asked, and Anakin started. A melodic voice, and not one he recognized. “Please accept my apologies, the target simply gave in! And moreover, I did not expect anyone to venture in here! How did you even manage it alone?”

“I live here!” Anakin growled, “And the target wouldn’t ‘just break’, if you hadn’t shot it with a crossbow! It is meant for archery, it can’t withstand… Where did you even get a crossbow?” Read more on AO3. ⚔️💮⚔️ @flufftober @x-tober

[the-slow-arrow]

Qui-Gon runs hot.

He knows this, even without Obi-Wan wrestling his way out of his arms every morning because he’s too sweaty.

Because of this, he prefers to be in as little clothing as possible. As soon as he returns to his quarters, either in temple or not, he strips to his bare bones, much prefering the freedom granted by the open air than the constricting stiflement of jedi robes.

Or, Qui-Gon likes to get naked and Obi-Wan can't cope.

-

For the flufftober 2020 day 7 prompt “stop hogging the blankets”.

[x-tober]

There is now an X-tober collection for your works on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xtober2020

[acatbyanyothername9]

X-tober prompts masterlist

After a month of drabbles, here comes the final masterlist of all my october fics!

Day 01 [Angstober]: “I did it for you” <x>

Day 02 [Flufftober]: Comfort <x>

Day 03 [Hauntober]: Tea <x> 

Day 04 [Angstober]: Graveyard <x>

Day 05 [Hauntober]: Moonlight <x>

Day 06 [Flufftober]: Quicksilver <x>

Day 07 [Angstober]: Haunted <x>

Day 08 [Flufftober]: Unwavering <x>

Day 09 [Hauntober]: Stars <x>

Day 10 [Hauntober]: Forest <x>

Day 11 [Hauntober]: Nightmare <x>

Day 12 [Angstober]: Disaster <x>

Day 13 [Angstober] Traitor <x>

Day 14 [Flufftober]: Possibilities <x>

Day 15 [Flufftober]: Breatheless <x>

Day 16 [Angstober]: Smoke <x>

Day 17 [Angstober]: Separation <x>

Day 18 [Flufftober]: Things left unsaid <x>

Day 19 [Angstober]: Embrace <x>

Day 20 [Flufftober]: Enigmatic <x>

Day 21 [Angstober]: Hauntings <x>

Day 22 [Angstober]: Shadows <x>

Day 23 [Hauntober]: Candle <x>

Day 24 [Flufftober]: Serendipity <x>

Day 25 [Hauntober]: Crystals <x>

Day 26 [Angstober]: Fallen <x>

Day 27 [Flufftober]: Half-written <x>

Day 28 [Angstober]: Whisper <x>

Day 29 [Flufftober]: Thunderstorm <x>

Day 30 [Angstober]: Trapped <x>

Day 31 [Flufftober]: “Make me” <x>

The complete series can be found on Ao3 

[severnlight]

Swords and Starflowers AU ⚔️ 💮 ⚔️ Day 26 [Angstober]: Fallen This is a continuation from the previous post.

Newly named, the young Sith stumbles back from his master’s study through the gallery. It is a long walk, and by the time he reaches his rooms, he can barely hold on to his crutches, and has to lean on the wall for support. The servants have already tidied the space, and cleaned up the mirror shards. By tomorrow, they will have cleaned up the smears of blood he’s left in the gallery, his rooms, and the Emperor’s study. Perhaps they would even be able to lift the stains from the silk carpet. Just like nothing ever happened.

The Spinnakerian still sits by his bedside table, shiny and tempting on its dainty porcelain plate. Someone has covered it with a glass dome, and left a bottle of pear cider next to it. This confection… It is her favorite, too, singled out over the entire formidable range of pastries Theed has to offer. The memory flashes before his eyes in vivid detail.

“As if marrying you wasn’t treason enough,” she quips, and pokes a finger to his chest with a bright laugh. A touch he is death-certain he would never feel again. A laugh he would never hear. 

He takes a swing at the glass dome, and it shatters, flying off the side table and sweeping the cider bottle with it. Vader turns away. He can’t bear to see the broken pieces.

Three servants on late duty are called to young master Palpatine’s rooms for another clean-up. He sits in his inner parlor like a stone gargoyle, his right hand freshly bandaged, and pays no heed to them. But when they are about to leave, he calls them in a voice so cold that the youngest in the trio shivers.

“Wait.”

They stop by the door, turn, and lower their gaze in respect, but not before noticing this dangerous yellow glow in his eyes, one they have only seen before in his Father’s.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Tell Chef I don’t want him to make…” Lord Vader falters, suddenly unwilling to say the name of the confection, “this…” he motions at the mess they are about to carry out, “ever again! He should have taken the hint by now,” he pauses. “Or, there will be consequences.”

“Yes, my lord,” the eldest among the trio assents with another deep bow, then they flee the room. They know too well how precarious the moods of a man with yellow eyes can get.

On their way back to the kitchens, the servants are caught in the same thought, but no-one dares speak it aloud. Their esteemed young lord, the pride of Spinnaker, a boy who in all his years here had never been unkind to the staff, seems truly gone. This new lord, having risen from the ashes, bore little resemblance, and spoke harshly on each rare occasion he condescended to open his scarred mouth.

The next day, Lord Vader demands to be moved to a single room, up in the left wing’s lone tower. He dismisses his servants, and day by day, the folks in the grand estate think about him less and less. Since no-one ever sees him, and His Majesty no longer mentions him, many wonder if he has died in that tower after all, and has been secretly buried. The older members of the staff who remember him growing up silently mourn his passing.

Autumn arrives with a glorious splash of color that year, and on a crisp Sunday morning, the servants must ponder the identity of another lord: a tall man who no-one has managed to see arriving, but is about to leave the Castle. He is accompanied by a small retinue of black-armored knights, bearing an unfamiliar red sigil next to the Imperial cog. On his head, the lord wears a full-face daemon mask crowned with jagged thorns of embersteel, and his finely wrought scale armor swallows the bright morning sunlight in the embrace of a yawning abyss. ⚔️ 💮 ⚔️

[severnlight]

Day 11 [Flufftober]: Radiance @flufftober Day 12 [Angstober]: Disaster @angstober

Swords and Starflowers AU ⚔️💮⚔️ “Oh! You are here!” Piett stormed into the kitchens, weary, “General Veers has been looking all over for you.”

Luke glanced at him over a large bowl he was preoccupied with stirring. His face was dusted with flour.

“I told the General that I plan on skipping the afternoon lessons.”

Piett took a five-second pause trying to decide who, in the absence of Lord Vader, had the actual authority to decide what lessons Luke could and could not skip. He came up empty-handed.

“Ah… “

Apparently, Luke had been busy in the kitchen for some time. There was a myriad of spices and ingredients on the counter, and several batches of colorful dough, which the boy’s hands and sleeves were partially covered with. The rest of the kitchen staff observed Luke’s foray into whatever this was with fascination, while Nella stood close by, trying to assist. She looked up to Piett with a radiant smile he was fairly certain the present situation hardly warranted.

“The young master is trying to bake a treat, from Tatooine.”

“Uh, don’t call me that, Nella!”

“Sure thing, little lord.”

Luke rolled his eyes.

“I am trying to make a pastry my aunt taught me,” he clarified, ���but it’s been a long time.”

Piett tried feverishly not to speculate on how exactly this “aunt” was related to Lord Vader, while Nella added with a meaningful stare:

“The young master is baking a surprise for his father’s birthday.”

Luke wiped a spot of dough that had stuck to his cheek.

“Oh yes. I just realized today that this is why he got summoned to Coruscant — thank you again, Nella,” he cast one of his disarming smiles at the head chef, and Piett could see her literally melt under his radiance. The boy was infectious. But next, Luke shifted his gaze to Piett with an entirely different expression.

“At least someone here sees fit to tell me the important things.”

The seneschal cursed internally. The boy channeled that familiar, deeply chilling, blue glare a little too well. ⚔️💮⚔️ Read more on AO3.

[severnlight]

@spell-cleaver​ and I have planned a collection of snippets for the Swords and Starflowers AU, taking prompts from several October challenges at will. Very excited to add my entry for Day 1, with a prompt from @angstober !

Day 01 [angstober]: “I did it for you.”

The world was a sea of pain, alive with ebbs and flows of piercing anguish, and the man, bandaged in wraps of fine silk and linen, was drowning. He hoped and begged for the release of death, but death wouldn’t come. Instead, the sounds and whispers around him grew louder, and a sharp tug on his flayed nerves thrust him back to reality. A reality too excruciating for him to grasp.

“It hurts…” he mouthed the words, but no sound came out. “It hurts so much…”

Someone used magic to take the edge of his pain off, like a soothing balm passing over his contorted body.

Anakin took a shaky breath, and tried to open his eyes. He couldn’t tell whether he succeeded. There was just a blur of light, followed by a blur of darkness.

“Where…” he tried, his voice hoarse, weak, foreign, “where am I?”

In the silence that followed, he sensed a familiar, powerful presence, before he heard the response.

“Home, son. Finally, back home.”

That wasn’t right… Home was with Padmé now, in the Lake Country... Anakin tried to lick his cracked lips. He sensed others in the room as well. Healers. The chief among them brought a water sponge to his mouth. The droplets seared his flesh like a fiery venom.

Anakin sucked in a breath, turning his face away. His body was one raging wound.

“Home?…” He managed.

“Yes, my boy,” came the even response.

“Father?…” he moaned, and panic settled with a steel grip at the base of his throat.  “I can’t see…”

“You suffered… grave injuries.”

Flashes of what he last remembered struck him with horrifying finality. They had fought at their manor in the Lake Country. She had crushed his heart… told him that she meant to leave him. And then Obi-Wan had stepped in, and Anakin had challenged him. The duel had quickly turned destructive... A vision of Padmé, struck by a falling beam, burned like a hot poker through his mind. Him, rushing after her, taking a blind hit from a spell, walls crumbling down before he could reach her, and the explosion… tossing him down two stories to the steep bank of the river below. The sound of his leg bones snapping, mangled underneath the remnants of an archway, and his entire being gone wild with shock and rending fear for Padme and their unborn child. And then the fires had started, flames licking the heavy curtains caught between piles of wood, stone and rubble, creeping all around. He thought he remembered Obi-Wan, picking up his kyberblade. He must have lost consciousness from the smoke. And now… evidently, the fire had gotten to him, and he was just a remnant himself…  an anguished, worthless, charred lump of flesh even the flames had only deemed fit to leave behind.

“Argh… No!...” His bandaged arm swung wildly as if to push the thought away, which earned him a barbed jolt of agony. His eyes searched for his father, in vain. He stilled, and put all his hopes and fears on the next question.

“Padmé… Where is… Padmé?”

“We combed through the ashes of the manor, Anakin. There were many deaths. Unfortunately… we can’t quite tell who was who.”

⚔︎ 💮 ⚔︎

Read more on AO3.

[severnlight]

Day 05 [Whumptober]: “Where do you think you are going?”

***Swords and Starflowers AU***  ⚔️💮⚔️

Luke had made a good plan. A solid plan. It had taken weeks of preparation, but everything was proceeding on point, and if they could just round this corner, he would be able to get Obi-Wan out through a window facing an overgrown side of the castle grounds, where they would have some cover until his old teacher was far away from the walls. Luke had spent many long hours unbarring this shuttered window secretly over the last few nights. Obi-Wan paused before climbing out, face tired and worn, and the boy looked away, tears streaking down his face.

“Luke… You should go back now, you have done more than enough.”

“No. I will see you out of the citadel walls first.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. He looked like he had aged fifteen years in the fifteen weeks he’d been held captive in this castle. He tried again:

“Luke, you really need to…”

“We are wasting time, Ben. Start climbing. I will be right behind you. Let’s not let this chance go to waste.”

Luke had picked the day carefully: his father was away, on his monthly summons at the Emperor’s palace. He should not be back until the day after tomorrow. With some luck, the news of Ben’s escape wouldn’t even reach him before he returned.

Luke pulled out a ladder he had stashed away in the room’s storage closet and extended it carefully through the window until it touched the ground outside. He picked up the large backpack of supplies and provisions he had prepared for Obi-Wan, and motioned to him:

“After you.”

Obi-Wan sighed.

“Oh, but before that,” Luke added, “I thought you would be happy to get this back.” The boy pulled out a dagger wrapped tightly in a woolen sack - to prevent the blade’s glow from attracting attention. Obi-Wan gasped.

“Oh, Luke! I never thought I would see this again…”

He took his kyberblade with a shaky hand, then tied it to his belt, and pulled in the boy for a tight hug. “Dear boy… you should come with me, truly. I am afraid of what he would do, should he ever find out…”

Luke just hugged him back, and whispered: “I will be fine, I promise.”

Obi-Wan was filled with dread, but there was nothing more to discuss. Luke had remained intransigent about remaining with Vader. He believed, like his mother, that there was still good in him. A belief which hadn’t done her any good - that was for sure.

The old man stepped through the window and climbed down the ladder. When he was safely down, Luke looked around to make sure they weren’t noticed and followed him. He skipped the last few steps with a jump and found himself next to a very still Obi-Wan. Something was wrong.

“Where do you think you are going?”

The familiar deep voice chilled his heart. Oh no, Luke’s only thought bounced around his panicked mind, oh no… He stepped in front of Obi-Wan, as if he could hide him. His father’s figure had never loomed so tall, and his red kyberblade glowed in his fist like an angry fire-spirit.

“He wasn’t planning on coming with me, Anakin! You must know. I tried to persuade him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

His father’s eyes shone with that dangerous glow Obi-Wan had explained came with the use of dark magic.

“Silence, old man!”

“I am just helping Obi-Wan escape, Father,” Luke chimed in. The truth was probably his best option. “He was getting ill in that cell. He needs care.”

“Care?!” His father spat out and pointed a gloved finger at Luke’s face. “Step away from him this instant.”

Obi-Wan sensed Vader’s temper rising, and moved away from Luke himself. Vader continued pointing a finger at his son, while the fisted hand with the kyberblade visibly shook. “Do not move. Do not speak. I will deal with you later.”

“Anakin,…” Obi-Wan tried again.

“And you… “ Vader turned on him. His voice was deathly quiet, each word perfectly annunciated. “No more words, Obi-Wan. This is the time, this is the final hour - just you and I, before the will of the Force - “ he pulled his blade up in the traditional motion to issue a challenge and set the duel magicks in motion.

“Oh, do simmer down, Anakin!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, “You know the spell won’t even take!”

Vader flinched as if struck by an invisible blow. Luke sensed a shift in the Force around them and used the opening to step in between the two mages once more. He did not understand what had just transpired, but his father looked positively dejected, and his rage seemed to have dissipated, together with the yellow glow from his eyes.

“Would it be so bad to give him a warm blanket, Father? It is very cold in that cell…”

Lord Vader stood like a planted monolith for half a minute, and everyone kept their silence.

“Or... Can we just let him go?”

Vader found his words, at last.

“Absolutely not.”

“But a blanket, at least?”

The dark lord took a shaky breath. Luke came closer and pulled down his hand, still gripping the kyberblade as if ready to strike. Then, the boy suddenly wrapped his hands around him in a swift hug.

Vader sheathed his blade and held him back tightly, glaring at Obi-Wan with spent menace. Luke had not planned to run from him. This is what mattered. Everything else… was irrelevant.

“We will have words tomorrow, young one,” he spoke quietly to his son, “but in the meantime… you can give the old man everything you’ve stashed for him in that backpack.“

Luke’s eyes lit up when he smiled up at him, and somehow, giving luxuries to his worst enemy was absolutely worth this moment.

“I will have that back, now,” he pointed a finger at Kenobi’s kyberblade. Obi-Wan sighed. He untied the blade and handed it to Vader.

“I hope you are happy.”

“I am slightly happier. Get back to your cell.”

“But must he go back there, Father? Can’t you find him a better room, in the upper levels? One with a proper fire?”

Lord Vader looked up to the starry skies. He had never felt more tired.

⚔️💮⚔️ Find the series on AO3.

[severnlight]

Day 02 [Flufftober]: Comfort

Day 07 [Whumptober]: I’ve got you | Enemy to Caretaker

Another snippet from Swords and Starflowers.

⚔︎ 💮 ⚔︎

Seventeen years. Robbed of seventeen years of his son’s life. And just last night, he had almost cut the rest of this precious life short. Luke had survived… Survived long enough to be born, survived the debacle at Death Star base, the plunge into that icy river, and a long and unhappy series of close encounters Vader kept replaying in his mind.

The boy lay shivering under the down-filled cover, his hair damp, his body ravaged by fever. The healers summoned to his sickbed whispered in hushed tones. It had been six hours since Luke had been brought to the manor, and thirty two since Lord Vader had last slept.

The fire in the room was roaring, but it did little to dispel the chill his son had suffered in that forest, nor the cold dread in his heart. The healers had said that the boy’s condition was stable, that he would survive the illness, and his injuries as well, but these were words, just words, and he had heard many fake promises before.

Read more on AO3.

⚔︎ 💮 ⚔︎

@flufftober @x-tober

[severnlight]

Swords and Starflowers AU

Day 06, late Flufftober entry: Quicksilver

⚔️💮⚔️ Anakin took any opportunity for cover in the darkness as he crossed the open section of the garden and walked up to the pavilion. His stomach was tied in knots. He inhaled a lungful of the crisp autumn air, then ran up, taking several steps at a time. The rotunda appeared deserted, with just a scattering of fallen red leaves stirring on the ground. He looked up with a sigh, noting an elaborate carving of Spinna — the Weaver of Destiny and fabled founder of House Palpatine, staring at him with impassive eyes from the ceiling. Spinner of his own fate indeed…

He exhaled slowly, placed both hands on the banister, and hung his head. A moving shadow caught the edge of his peripheral visions, and he spun around just in time to see her stepping out from behind a column with a coy smile. His heart skipped a beat.

“Anakin!” She exclaimed first, “I had very little hope to find you here!”

“Padmé...“ He straightened up, suddenly at a loss about what to do with his hands. “How could I not come? I knew that you would be in Spinnaker for the Transfer of Power proceedings. I had to check our spot.”

She looked at him with a spark in her eyes.

“Ah, yes. I heard your Lord Father tried to give my Lady Grandmother a hard time today.”

Anakin sighed.

“He often does. Give a hard time to people, that is. She shouldn’t take it personally.”

“I would worry more about him than her.”

“Let’s just have them worry about each other! I’ve missed you, Padmé.”

Read more on AO3! ⚔️💮⚔️ @flufftober  @x-tober

[severnlight]

Day 18 [Angstober]: Condemned, or “Vader’s Ultimatum”

{This is the full text of Vader’s letter to Luke from Chapter 25, “For the Greater Good”}

Swords and Starflowers AU ⚔️💮⚔️ You proclaimed that you’d never surrender Well — I do like a challenge, little rat Your luck has been beyond doubt extraordinary But it was just that: blind luck, and about to run out

By now you have most certainly noticed That some key Rebel figures are amiss? You can guess this affair’s most unfortunate status: I’ve suspended their fate over my choice of abyss

I’ve ordered a box carved richly of camphor, Gilt in gold, mountain blue and Alderaan white You’ll agree, it’s quite fit for one esteemed Viceroy — At least for that one crucial part of him I have in mind

Unless you appear before me, In three days time, by the last trace of light I’ll send my gift of a box to his daughter This rebellious, precious friend of yours, am I right?

And one thing I do promise you, Toivo, When she opens it — she will scream, she will rage, And henceforth she won’t even once look upon you Without the ghost of her father, who you’d let die in my cage

You were in dire need of a lesson — One I am only too happy to teach: Each man has a key, and a breaking point And both of yours I now hold in my reach

So — not only will you come to surrender, Not only will you beg for their release, But to make it truly count before me, Toivo, You will do so head bowed — On your knees. ⚔️💮⚔️ @angstober | @x-tober

[severnlight]

Day 10 [Flufftober]: “Once upon a time”

(To no one’s surprise, 1) I am behind on prompts, and 2) this takes place in the Swords and Starflowers AU)

⚔️ 💮 ⚔️ 

“Once upon a time…”

Faded leaves and petals spilled from between the pages of the book, and rained down on the polished floorboards. The words failed him. His fingers dug into the leather cover, knuckles turning white. Here lay her favorite hydrangeas, and over there — a scattering of peonies, roses, and colorful tree leaves. White magnolia blossoms, too - one of them landing next to Luke’s chair. A painting of broken memories.

Once upon a time… She’d told him with star-lit eyes under the scented veil of these same magnolias that he was to be a father, and he’d held her close, drunk on happiness. Their fragrance still haunted him at night. He’d tried to save them  — her beloved trees — when he’d decided to rebuild the manor. But their bare branches and shriveled roots were too far gone. Not a single offshoot had taken, even in the best of soils.

Once upon a time, he’d spared no effort in bringing this rare shade of hydrangea all the way back from Spinnaker. He had helped her plant them, in her chosen spot in the garden. Once upon a time, he’d known how to make her happy, and he’d been the happiest of men.

She was more than halfway into her pregnancy when they’d taken that long walk to collect the leaves. Maple, oak, birch, aspen… She had a design in her mind and was after particular shapes and colors. He plucked any leaf she pointed to that she couldn’t reach. To her delight, not even the highest branches were safe from magic. They’d walked for hours, and he’d been worried that she was overexerting herself. It had been just a few months before…

“Father?…”

Once upon a time, he’d known her love, and her trust. He had not deserved them. He had never deserved her.

Someone nudged his arm gently.

“Father? Are you alright?”

Read more on AO3. ⚔️ 💮 ⚔️ @flufftober @x-tober

[severnlight]

Swords and Starflowers AU (Angstober is over, you may say, but I still have a few stragglers) ⚔️ 💮 ⚔️ Day 31: [Angstober]: Monster

Days draw by, and the first weeks follow. The maimed Palpatine heir misses his father’s glorious coronation in Corusca. Servants and healers tiptoe by their young master’s door, carrying out long lists of tasks day and night. The shock of his tragic retrieval is slowly subsumed by the painstaking care routine his condition demands. His screams fade with time too, and sediment into an ominous silence. Whispers of his fate spread in waves like wildfires through the estate. Some say that he has lost his vision, others — that he has lost all limbs. Some wonder if he can still fulfill his duties as heir. All agree that he has suffered gravely, and will never be as he once was.

The servants’ compassion for their young master is cut short by their Lord and new Emperor, who, having just recently returned from Coruscant, gathers them up in the courtyard one night, and has his Chief of Guard swiftly execute the trio directly assigned to his son’s rooms.

“From this moment forth,” His Majesty hisses, “those who spread rumors about my son will not meet such a merciful end.”

A deathly silence about Master Anakin’s condition reigns in the castle ever since.

The weeks turn into a month. The young lord shows interest in nothing and speaks to no-one. His only visitor remains his Lord Father, who comes to his suite at exactly four o'clock each afternoon, and leaves at precisely five. After weeks on bed rest, the elder Palpatine orders him taken out once a day on a chair with wheels, made special for him. His eyes are too sensitive for the daylight, so the servants bring him out at dusk. Everyone learns for certain that he is missing an arm, and his head and face are still heavily bandaged.

“Where would you like to go, my lord?” they ask, but there is no answer, nor a sign. When they try to wheel him to his beloved Labyrinth that first evening, he stirs his remaining hand, and the ancient carved stone arch by the entrance crumbles down with such a force that later, the garden crew has to dig up the pebble-sized chunks with shovels.

The Head Chef keeps making Master Anakin’s favorite dessert, the Spinnakerian — a famed three-layered confection of dark chocolate, mulberry mousse and orange custard. Despite his best efforts, it comes back untouched every night. When he hears about the stone arch by the labyrinth, he cries.

Emperor Palpatine has to leave for Coruscant again and orders regular reports on his son’s condition. Anakin seems to flash in and out of awareness like a flickering candle, and the servants who knew him once wonder if he would ever be truly alive again.

A dust-covered messenger arrives on the estate late one night and is brought up to Anakin’s rooms. The young master makes his first attempt to stand on his own then, with the help of the servants. He hasn’t used his voice for so long, that it sounds gruff and foreign, changed beyond recognition. “Did you find her?” he rasps, and the men holding him look away with trepidation, for they know very well who he means. [Read more on AO3] ⚔️ 💮 ⚔️

[the-slow-arrow]

It was a well-known fact that Obi-Wan wasn’t a morning person. When Qui-Gon had left at the crack of dawn all he’d gotten was a grunt and a quick kiss before Obi-Wan had disappeared back into his warm nest of blankets.

-

Whumptober day 26 “migraine”.

[the-slow-arrow]

There’s only been a handful of times in Obi-Wan’s life where he’s seen Qui-Gon brought low.

This one has to be the worst.

-

For the whumptober 2020 day 3 prompt “held at gunpoint”.

[the-slow-arrow]

Obi-Wan lands hard on the floor, rolling to a stop against the hard concrete. A loud metal clang reverberates through the air, a lock turns, and then footsteps fade away.

-

Whumptober day 22 “drugged”.