Star Wars: from conversations / reader requests

10: And in the end, Light

A/N: Requested by @mnp16891

*NOTE: violence!

This is essentially an adaptation of Star Wars Theory's "What if Anakin KILLED Palpatine in Revenge of the Sith", with some modifications to serve the plot better.

I'm bringing a pail and a toy shovel to play in Lucasfilm's sandbox (the only source of sand that Anakin approves of). I'm also taking some liberations with how the Force has a consciousness... don't murder me plz :)

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Sidious's words are mere buzzing noises in his ears. His heart beats faster, his chest heaving, his head enveloped in a haze of anger that almost hurt.

The man who stands in front of him, this deceptively kind father figure that he has known for so many years, he is the one behind everything. The War, the manipulations, the suffering of so many people that he cared about—

Padmé.

He is the reason that his angel's life has been at risk for so many times, especially as the War trudged on; all the assassinations, all the captures, the dangers that she'd gone through; this treacherous thing, this monster, the source of all his anxiety and anguish—

He had to save his angel and their unborn child.

"Are you going to kill me?" The Sith asks, his back still turned against the young Jedi knight. Despite the hum of the lightsaber that is a nudge away from decapitating him, Sidious takes a deep breath and the familiar dark tendrils calm the pounding of his heart; presented with a chance to save his wife, surely the boy would not betray him. Now, at this key point, his mass scheme is set in motion.

There is a moment's silence. Sidious waits patiently; he'd been waiting for more than two decades as he gradually cultivated his creation's loyalty, and he can certainly spare a few moments.

An invisible hand abruptly seizes him, fingers constricting around his neck. In a panic, Sidious tries to gulp in air but finds it is a futile act. Past the distressed pounding of his heart and the rush of blood against his eardrums, he can hear the creaking of metal, the crashing and thudding and fragmenting of furniture to the ground.

No, NO—

"Of course."

Involuntary Sidious is spun around to face his knight, whose left hand has extended from the folds of his robe to motion a choke. Changing eyes meet him, a murky, cold blend of yellow and blue that radiate utmost hatred and contempt. The dark tendrils that had been his companion for decades rush away and crawl their way up to the Falling knight, hissing and spitting at their former host. Fingers trembling in fright, the Sith wheezes urgently, "Don't do—this! Only I—can save—Padmé! Give you—the life—you—want—! The Jedi will—condemn—you—"

"Silence!"

The ceiling collapses, wires sparking and dust and concrete tumbling down to the torn red carpet below. The hand around Sidious tightens until the Sith is entirely devoid of air, and his organs burn and wail in overwhelming pain as they are gradually ripped apart, and the cloaked knight with blazing golden eyes steps forward, one foot at a time, his legs threatening to buckle under profound anger.

Sidious, forcefully locked in place by the dark tendrils that have turned traitor and now are slowly tearing his innards into shreds, eyes wide and hands scrabbling at his throat and heart jumping out from its cavity to the master's maw, finds himself physically grabbed by the throat, lifted even higher into the air.

A quivering hand moves toward Anakin's arm, and he musters helpless in his eyes as a final chance of conversion—"Son—"

"LIAR!" The voice is not of one man, but a thousand souls speaking at once, the deafening howl ricocheting around the crumpled walls of the office. The final light flickers off, and in the gloom, there is only the brilliant blue of the lightsaber and a pair of feverish eyes streaked with the color of murder. Dark tendrils cackle from the vehement loathing that pours off the fallen one; and before Sidious can raise his hands to send lightning to force the boy into submission, the blue penetrates the Sith lord's form.