![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darth_stitchFirst Interlude – the Dreaming
A star fell. A dream died.
As always, the Raven found the remains of that dream, a tasty morsel for his dinner. There was no malice in that, no ill intended. He was a scavenger after all.
As the Raven bent to take his first bite, hands scooped up the dream’s tiny corpse. He cawed in protest.
"I’m sorry," said the Minstrel, looking very young and very sorrowful as she gently and protectively cradled the remains of the dream in her hands. Once it had been a dream of stars, of the songs the stars could sing. It had been a dream of an angel – a young woman who loved and was loved so completely, so purely, that it seemed the bond would never be broken. It was the dream of the boy whose bright eyes used to reflect the color of the sky, the boy who once danced to the song of the stars.
The dream had been so beautiful, shining brightly in the skies of the Dreaming.
"I would like to give it a proper burial," the Minstrel told the Raven. "Please?"
"But I’m hungry," the Raven croaked, flapping its wings in annoyance.
The Minstrel tossed him a pretty morsel, which the Raven took greedily and devoured with pleasure. "It belonged to my friend, you see."
The Raven, satiated and content, answered, "Well, if it’s for a friend after all…"
The Minstrel smiled. "Thank you."
Second Interlude – Of Death and Destruction
It ended in fire and flames hotter than a thousand suns.
It ended with a cry, a shout of despair, a single name.
"Anakin!"
The boy who had once loved the stars sought their song in his agony and found them silent.
"Obi-wan…" he whispered. Mentor, teacher, friend and father…all no more. He saw none of these faces now, beholding instead the face of his betrayer and murderer.
"Padme…" Another call unanswered. Angel, lover, friend and wife…she was lost to him now. They had taken her away from him.
"Anakin, it’s time to go."
With surprise, he realized that the pain was gone, that his flesh was whole and untouched, not the burned, maimed wreck that he had been before. He turned to look done at a pretty girl, her face paler than snow, her hair a soft black mass down her shoulders. She wore an odd symbol around her neck, a strangely-shaped cross. Her eyes were kind, gentle. Like his mother’s.
Like Padme’s.
"Am I dead?" he asked her.
Her smile was as kind as her eyes. "Now’s the time for you to find out." She beckoned to him and he followed.
He followed her down a desert road, with the suns of Tatooine setting. Followed her in the dizzy mazes of the city of Coruscant. Nearly lost her as she made her way to the river that ran through Theed.
She led him across the still, silent stars, to a place of many rooms and many corridors. Suddenly, he took his eyes from her, drawn towards one particular room.
He opened the door and slipped inside.
The room was empty except for a single pool in the middle. A sword hung above the waters, held by invisible bonds.
He knelt at the edge of the pool.
The waters swirled and shimmered, showing him images of the life he left behind. He saw himself, as a boy, dreaming of the stars. He saw Padme and how they first met, her bemused look as he innocently asked her if she was angel, because that was how beautiful she was to him. He saw Qui-Gon and Obi-wan, the men who became his teachers, the fathers he never had.
He saw his mother die.
He saw the Jedi reject him.
He saw himself and Obi-wan, fighting. Obi-wan who had always envied him, who had always held him back, always secretly jealous of his power and the fact that Qui-Gon had so suddenly decided to choose Anakin over him, the slave boy over the Jedi padawan, the pride of the Jedi Knighthood.
He saw how he was betrayed and deceived at every turn.
And his anger grew.
The waters swirled once more and then, burst into flame. The sword gleamed, its blade catching the light of the fire, an unspoken promise, if he would only take it.
Punish them. Punish all who had hurt him. Punish all who had betrayed and deceived him!
His hand reached out, ignoring the searing heat of the flames.
"Don’t!" The pale girl shouted in a voice more command than stern warning. "Anakin, it is not yours. It belongs to my brother."
"But he has abandoned his duty," Anakin answered, not knowing how he knew this, but as sure in the knowledge as he had always been when he fought or flew his starfighter. "The sword is calling out to me. I may use it as I wish."
"Do not do this," the girl told him, her kind eyes taking on a bleak sorrow. She stretched out her hand. "Take my hand, Anakin Skywalker. Please."
Anakin took a step back and sank into the pool. His anger and fury fed the flames and they darkened to a color blacker than black. They wrapped themselves around him, like a shroud, like a cloak.
Anakin burned.
The pain was beyond agony but he welcomed it now and his hands closed on the hilt of Destruction’s sword.
"Mine," he whispered lovingly. He was the Chosen One and he had all the power at his command. The Sword of Destruction was his now, the weapon granted to him by the Darkness he would now serve, forsaking all his bonds to the weak, cowering Light.
Death closed her eyes.
And somewhere, Desire smiled, warmed by the heat of Anakin’s need, a dark fire that would burn…burn so darkly bright.
And somewhere, Despair waited, twin to her sister, knowing the depth of Anakin’s desire would be the long measure by which he would fall into her clutches.
And somewhere, Destiny paused once more in the reading of his Book, looking up as his sister Death came asking why the Sword of Destruction had to be taken.
Destiny answered, "It has been written now. His choice is made."
And he turned the page.
And somewhere, Anakin awoke, his soul returning to a body fused to parts and machinery to keep it alive. The face of Palpatine, Darth Sidious was the first one he saw.
The Sith Master’s eyes gleamed golden now as he smiled and gave Anakin Skywalker a new name. "Welcome back, Lord Vader."
-end interludes-
A/N: I was inspired by certain scenes in the Dreaming comic book series for the interludes. *sighs* I'm actually up to part IV - it's the climax scenes I have trouble with. Though the end is pretty much laid out.
Yes, I will finish this bloody thing. Then I can devote my time to the very insistent Potterverse muses....
A star fell. A dream died.
As always, the Raven found the remains of that dream, a tasty morsel for his dinner. There was no malice in that, no ill intended. He was a scavenger after all.
As the Raven bent to take his first bite, hands scooped up the dream’s tiny corpse. He cawed in protest.
"I’m sorry," said the Minstrel, looking very young and very sorrowful as she gently and protectively cradled the remains of the dream in her hands. Once it had been a dream of stars, of the songs the stars could sing. It had been a dream of an angel – a young woman who loved and was loved so completely, so purely, that it seemed the bond would never be broken. It was the dream of the boy whose bright eyes used to reflect the color of the sky, the boy who once danced to the song of the stars.
The dream had been so beautiful, shining brightly in the skies of the Dreaming.
"I would like to give it a proper burial," the Minstrel told the Raven. "Please?"
"But I’m hungry," the Raven croaked, flapping its wings in annoyance.
The Minstrel tossed him a pretty morsel, which the Raven took greedily and devoured with pleasure. "It belonged to my friend, you see."
The Raven, satiated and content, answered, "Well, if it’s for a friend after all…"
The Minstrel smiled. "Thank you."
Second Interlude – Of Death and Destruction
It ended in fire and flames hotter than a thousand suns.
It ended with a cry, a shout of despair, a single name.
"Anakin!"
The boy who had once loved the stars sought their song in his agony and found them silent.
"Obi-wan…" he whispered. Mentor, teacher, friend and father…all no more. He saw none of these faces now, beholding instead the face of his betrayer and murderer.
"Padme…" Another call unanswered. Angel, lover, friend and wife…she was lost to him now. They had taken her away from him.
"Anakin, it’s time to go."
With surprise, he realized that the pain was gone, that his flesh was whole and untouched, not the burned, maimed wreck that he had been before. He turned to look done at a pretty girl, her face paler than snow, her hair a soft black mass down her shoulders. She wore an odd symbol around her neck, a strangely-shaped cross. Her eyes were kind, gentle. Like his mother’s.
Like Padme’s.
"Am I dead?" he asked her.
Her smile was as kind as her eyes. "Now’s the time for you to find out." She beckoned to him and he followed.
He followed her down a desert road, with the suns of Tatooine setting. Followed her in the dizzy mazes of the city of Coruscant. Nearly lost her as she made her way to the river that ran through Theed.
She led him across the still, silent stars, to a place of many rooms and many corridors. Suddenly, he took his eyes from her, drawn towards one particular room.
He opened the door and slipped inside.
The room was empty except for a single pool in the middle. A sword hung above the waters, held by invisible bonds.
He knelt at the edge of the pool.
The waters swirled and shimmered, showing him images of the life he left behind. He saw himself, as a boy, dreaming of the stars. He saw Padme and how they first met, her bemused look as he innocently asked her if she was angel, because that was how beautiful she was to him. He saw Qui-Gon and Obi-wan, the men who became his teachers, the fathers he never had.
He saw his mother die.
He saw the Jedi reject him.
He saw himself and Obi-wan, fighting. Obi-wan who had always envied him, who had always held him back, always secretly jealous of his power and the fact that Qui-Gon had so suddenly decided to choose Anakin over him, the slave boy over the Jedi padawan, the pride of the Jedi Knighthood.
He saw how he was betrayed and deceived at every turn.
And his anger grew.
The waters swirled once more and then, burst into flame. The sword gleamed, its blade catching the light of the fire, an unspoken promise, if he would only take it.
Punish them. Punish all who had hurt him. Punish all who had betrayed and deceived him!
His hand reached out, ignoring the searing heat of the flames.
"Don’t!" The pale girl shouted in a voice more command than stern warning. "Anakin, it is not yours. It belongs to my brother."
"But he has abandoned his duty," Anakin answered, not knowing how he knew this, but as sure in the knowledge as he had always been when he fought or flew his starfighter. "The sword is calling out to me. I may use it as I wish."
"Do not do this," the girl told him, her kind eyes taking on a bleak sorrow. She stretched out her hand. "Take my hand, Anakin Skywalker. Please."
Anakin took a step back and sank into the pool. His anger and fury fed the flames and they darkened to a color blacker than black. They wrapped themselves around him, like a shroud, like a cloak.
Anakin burned.
The pain was beyond agony but he welcomed it now and his hands closed on the hilt of Destruction’s sword.
"Mine," he whispered lovingly. He was the Chosen One and he had all the power at his command. The Sword of Destruction was his now, the weapon granted to him by the Darkness he would now serve, forsaking all his bonds to the weak, cowering Light.
Death closed her eyes.
And somewhere, Desire smiled, warmed by the heat of Anakin’s need, a dark fire that would burn…burn so darkly bright.
And somewhere, Despair waited, twin to her sister, knowing the depth of Anakin’s desire would be the long measure by which he would fall into her clutches.
And somewhere, Destiny paused once more in the reading of his Book, looking up as his sister Death came asking why the Sword of Destruction had to be taken.
Destiny answered, "It has been written now. His choice is made."
And he turned the page.
And somewhere, Anakin awoke, his soul returning to a body fused to parts and machinery to keep it alive. The face of Palpatine, Darth Sidious was the first one he saw.
The Sith Master’s eyes gleamed golden now as he smiled and gave Anakin Skywalker a new name. "Welcome back, Lord Vader."
-end interludes-
A/N: I was inspired by certain scenes in the Dreaming comic book series for the interludes. *sighs* I'm actually up to part IV - it's the climax scenes I have trouble with. Though the end is pretty much laid out.
Yes, I will finish this bloody thing. Then I can devote my time to the very insistent Potterverse muses....
