“Lord Consort, huh?”
Anakin whirls around, eyes huge.
His Master is looking down at him from his high throne, his arms crossed on his chest and his eyebrows raised.
“Master, I–” Anakin breathes out, struggling to believe his own eyes.
You’ve heard me! You’ve come back for me!
I didn’t know if I would see you again. You, not your cruel Light. The real you.
I thought you had abandoned me.
Please don’t do that to me again, Master! Don’t leave me...
That’s what Anakin wants to say – to weep into his Master’s robes while held tightly against his chest. But what he blurts out instead is, “It wasn’t my idea, Master. I swear! That’s just what they all call me.”
“Well, I didn’t hear you protest too much, Your Highness.” His Master chuckles, inclining his head and looking at Anakin with his usual gracious indulgence for a moment.
And Anakin opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything. Just like he didn’t say anything when he heard the title for the first time. He never corrected anyone, never told them he was no more than his Master’s Padawan. Because he wants to be more.
His Master doesn’t say anything either – just observes Anakin with a soft smile for a long moment before he finally inquires, almost distractedly, his gaze sliding off Anakin’s tense figure and losing focus as the Jedi looks deeper. “What did the Generals want? Is there a problem?”
“No, Master, no problems,” Anakin lies immediately, his eyes huge with feigned innocence but his chest tightening with the terror of his Master’s finding out how entirely incompetent Anakin has been, allowing those Mandalorians into their Holy City while the Jedi was in his trance. “I have everything under control,” he assures his Master, ordering his voice not to tremble, and almost wants to laugh at his own words.
Under control. Him!
The Jedi probably feels the same about Anakin’s declaration because he lifts his eyebrow incredulously.
“Really, Padawan?” A small smile tugs at his lips. “Is that why everything is on fire?”
Anakin looks around, his eyes wide: the Force itself is flaming with his desperation, its dark waters suddenly turned into fuel, and the tongues of fire dancing, reflected in the shards of broken glass…
Control? What control? Anakin has never heard of it. Only chaos!
“I’m sorry, Master… I–” Anakin tries, not really knowing what to say, but his Master’s attention has already shifted from him to the rest of their surroundings, carefully inspecting the room with barely hidden confusion and eventually stopping on the Jedi himself.
On what he is sitting on.
“What in Sith hell is this thing?!”
On what he is dressed in.
“Force, what am I wearing?!”
On what is going on.
“What did you do, Anakin?!”
The Jedi springs up and dashes away from his throne as if the flowing blackness of its obsidian were on fire.
The white flow of his skirts spills all around the new Emperor with a soft swish, startling him to an abrupt stop.
He looks down at it and freezes. Appalled. Speechless. His knuckles almost as white from the force of his grip as the silk and chiffon he is clutching at.
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Choose Your Words || A Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Story
RomanceAnakin Skywalker is pure chaos and will do anything to get his Master's attention: A Star Wars Story.
