The Path Of Darkness, Or The Path Of Love? (AnakinxReader)

In The Dust

"Y/n!" I hear the distant calling of my name. I know it's mother, she's the only one who calls anymore. After my father died, she's been overly protective of me. I'm grateful though, with the shadow of the Sith lurking over our heads, its nice to know someone looks out for me.
"Coming mother!" I run through the rocky plains, dust coating my ragged clothes as I dash in the heat of the glowing red Sun. It hangs low in the sky, casting eerie shadows at my feet. Up ahead, I see the small huts, built with stone and roofed with cloth. My mother waves to me from ours. I hurry up to her and embrace her, feeling her strong, warm arms around me.
"Y/n. I'm so happy you're home! How was your day?" She strokes my (h/c) hair soothingly, and I relax as I slide to the ground.
"It was normal, as usual. Nothing interesting really happens you know."
She smiled at me worriedly. "I know," she said, sighing. "But I worry all the same. With the Sith venturing closer to us, and those blasted Dark Jedi attacking our scavengers for entertainment, I fear for you." She wiped a tear from her cheek and took a deep breath. I stood up and walked to her, facing her as I enclosed her shaking hands in mine.
"Everything will be alright, mum. Whatever happens, it'll be okay." Her wide brown eyes stared into my (e/c) ones, and she leaned in, kissing my forehead.
I'm glad for the relationship my mother and I have. We care for each other, and in the desolate ruins of Korriban, it's one of the only joys I look forward to.
I walk into the back of the hut, pushing aside the cloth that acts as a door to my room. If you can even call it that. It's a small box, with blankets on the floor and a deformed dead stump that I use to store writings and other precious objects. In it is a slender container. I've always wondered what was inside of it, but mother told me I was never to open it unless she told me to. All I know about it is that it belonged to my father, in the years before his death. I didn't know how he had died. Mother didn't like to talk about it. But I suspect it had something to do with the Sith inhabitants on this planet.
We hadn't always lived here. I was born on an obscured planet, the home world of the Miraluka people. My father had been residing there for training with an old master. I remember wandering through the lush green fields as a child, smelling the native plants and being one with nature. Sometimes, when he wasn't busy, my father would come with me, and we would sit in silence, eyes closed and feeling the pattern of the wind, the rustling of the leaves. Those were times of peace, and due to that I lived a blissful childhood. But that all changed the day he rushed home, anger in his eyes as he fervently swept up our belongings and made us leave. My mother cried, but I was too young to understand why. I still don't understand why. No one ever told me. But we ended here, and soon after we arrived, he was gone.
But that's the past. Now me and my mother live in the shadow of the Valley of the Dark Lords, with poor unfortunate souls around us. Deep inside I know we're all waiting to die or be taken prisoner. But it's easier not to think about that. It's easier not to think at all.
I slump down and pull my blankets over my head, curling up and staring at the dust that moved when I breathed. I was tired often, from the same old scene, and the constant fear of death. So I closed my eyes, feeling the hot wind blow through the hole that served as a window, until at last I fell into an exhausted sleep.