- CASTLES CRUMBLING (A.S.) -

- 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 -

i'm going under... there's no one to save me

SITTING AROUND THE table in the alcove that served as the dining room, the group settled into their seats, ready for the uncomfortable conversation that was about to take place. Beru was in the kitchen, preparing some sort of refreshment for the visitors. Meanwhile, Regina was seated between Skywalker and Padmé, much like she had been on their trip through town. Across from her sat Owen with an empty seat left for Beru. And at the head of the table was Cliegg himself, seated in his power chair.

"What I have to tell you is a little difficult, so bare with me," Cliegg began, clearing his throat. Sitting next to Skywalker—they were seated so close that their shoulders touched—Regina could feel him tense. His whole body was rigid with emotion. Regina couldn't help but feel sorry for him; in fact, she was willing to do anything to help him through this.

"It was just before dawn," Cliegg continued. "They... Came out of nowhere." Regina clenched her jaw, knowing where this was going. That meant Skywalker knew, too. She shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye. His face was stony and pale. "A hunting party of Tusken Raiders."

Now Regina felt sick. She knew the stories from the holobooks she had read. The Tusken Raiders were the brutal natives of Tatooine, known for their barbaric traditions and methods of killing. If they had Shmi, she was likely dead by now. Regina had to help him, had to let him know she was here for him. Her hands were resting on her lap, but as Cliegg spoke, she moved her left one, inching it toward Skywalker ever so slightly. After a while, it grazed his right hand. He shot her a confused look that lasted a millisecond—he was invested in what Cliegg was telling him—but he understood what Regina was doing.

Without looking at her again, Skywalker moved his right hand on top of Regina's, folding his fingers through hers and gripping her hand tightly, as if he was afraid to let go. Regina squeezed back, feeling the warmth of his skin on hers.

"Your mother had gone out early like she always did to pick mushrooms that grow on the vaporators," Cliegg was saying, his voice heavy with sorrow. Beru walked into the room carrying a tray full of blue milk. She set it on the table before settling in next to her boyfriend. "From the tracks, she was about halfway home when they took her." Skywalker squeezed Regina's hand tighter, if that was even possible. Deep down, Regina knew that he was holding on for dear life. On the surface though... He was staring blankly at the table ahead of him. He looked dead. Regina knew that's how he must have felt.

"Those Tuskens walk like men, but they're vicious, mindless monsters," Cliegg added slowly. "Thirty of us went out after her, four of us came back." Regina exchanged a look with Padmé; this was not good and they both knew it. "I'd be out there with them, but after I lost my leg, I just couldn't ride anymore until I heal." Skywalker looked down at his lap—at his hand that was intertwined with Regina's—and Regina knew that whatever he was feeling, he was going to do something about it. That's what he always did.

"I don't want to give up on her, but she's been gone a month."

A whole month. There was no way she was alive, and if she was...

Regina's heart ached for Shmi, for Anakin. His mother was all he had. The two of them had been through so much, and for it to end like that for her? It was wrong. It wasn't fair.

"There's little hope she's lasted this long," Cliegg concluded.

The room was silent for a while. Skywalker released Regina's hand. Then, he slowly rose from the table, looking out in the direction that his mother had been taken. Regina felt a growing unease, different from what she'd felt before. She knew that look; he was about to do something drastic and reckless, and most likely worse than she had imagined.