He was the Chosen One, they told him. He was supposed to bring balance to the Force. Anakin thought that some little extra support might go with being the Chosen One, a helping hand or at least some understanding from the Jedi Council, but instead he was passed around like an unwelcome burden. [] His chosen status meant less than nothing; it felt more like a stigma. And they wondered why he was difficult at times. Maybe they didn’t want balance, whatever that was. Maybe nobody liked a Jedi who was that different. He felt like an embarrassment to them.
I do everything you ask of me. I try so hard. When is it going to be enough? When are you going to say, “Okay, Anakin Skywalker, you’re good enough”?
The hatch swung open. “What’s wrong, Skyguy? [] Worried about helping Jabba?” []
He tried not to think about it, but the thought was like a corris weevil, eating away at his resolve.
The Jedi had never tried to rescue his mother or buy her out of slavery. [] Not even Qui-Gon Jinn had cast a backward glance at Shmi Skywalker. As the months and years wore on, the question would not leave Anakin alone. He didn’t want to let resentment eat away at his fond memories of his old Master, but he couldn’t stop it sometimes.
Why wasn’t my mother worth saving?
Jabba grew fat on the misery of beings like Anakin’s mother. []
And still I have to save his son. Because we need his goodwill. His space lanes.
The idea stuck in Anakin’s throat like a splintered nuna bone. The pain was palpable. []
Could she see? Could she see he’d slaughtered those Tusken Raiders? Was it etched in the Force around him? Did she know he’d committed an atrocity to avenge the death of his mother?
If she did, she wasn’t sensing his guilt.
He didn’t feel guilt about it at all.
“Let’s go,” he said.
~
Stars, this man is INTENSE.
[Photo: beautiful keychain charm by @indyren_pins.
Excerpt from "The Clone Wars" by Karen Traviss]
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