The Little Things

Sympathy For The Devil

Sympathy For The Devil

–

Anakin found himself strolling along the Naboo gardens. The grass, emerald green and aromatic. The clouds vanish into thin streaks and unveil an azure sky. The wild trees dance in the wind and tight buds wait to bloom, cyclical and effortless. Yet the wildflowers are never quite as freeing or as sensual as the young woman in yellow.

Padme sits on a picnic blanket, the golden hem of her summer dress creates a circular shape, origami-like folds of hope. She looks up at him, bright-eyed. A smile enchants with such innocence. She is where peace awaits for the broken – to heal them, nurture them... She is where light rises and darkness rests.

She embraces him in her arms as soon as he sits beside her. Her hands cradle his face. It is easy to become swept away by the flexibility of her fingers as she comforts him. Her warmth doesn't diminish as her lips press against his. But the kiss doesn't last long. He wished he could remain distracted by her ripe lips but his eyes quickly fall, unable to rid himself of a persistent fear stirring within.

"I had an awful dream." He murmurs, looking into her deep brown eyes. "You died in childbirth, I was all burned up. . .stuck in some metal suit. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't get out."

Padme tilts her head to the side in a dream-like state, affectionately offering gentle words of solace. "It was only a dream." She pushes his hair back, away from his eyes, and smiles. Her mouth drew his back to hers. Each kiss deluged with the sweetness of freedom. Fear melts away.

He protrudes forward, laying her down on the blanket as he slumps his body over hers. Her hands travel down his virile back, keeping him close while he rests his forehead on hers, separated only by her embroidered headband. His hands explore down to her waist, relishing the smoothness of her tulle shawl.

"Why didn't you stay?" She asks in between kisses.

He cranes his head back, caught off guard. "What?"

"Why didn't you stay in the Council Chamber?" The monotony of her tone was as puzzling as the question. Anakin's brows furrowed, growing more and more concerned as she squirms underneath him. He looks down, noticing a baby bump growing rapidly in real-time. He quickly scoots off her, trying to make sense of what was happening. Deafened by the sound of his heavy exhales, he calls her name over and over again, failing to console her as she begins to scream.

Once the sound escapes her mouth, only silence hangs between them. His nervous eyes scan her as he whimpers, "Padme... Padme!" Urging her to answer, sweat prickled his skin as he falls victim to a rising panic.

Her eyes were now closed; her heart, along with her growing baby bump, stops, and he watches as her body turns cold – an all too familiar temperature.

He has been forced to be subservient to the seasons of life. It was pointless to rebel. Temperatures don't change anymore. Whether you chase the warmth of the suns or feel the pull of the moon, for Darth Vader, it is always cold here.

For only a man who has been burned a thousand times can become immune to the heat.

–

Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man's soul and faith

–

Lord Vader stared up at the night sky, watching the stars form an alliance. It is only when he looks at the stars that he allows himself to remember his nightmares – nightmares that spook him in new, creative ways every time he closes his eyes. It is one of the few quiet moments where he lets Anakin ponder.