love & war | anakin skywalker

chapter four

THE SPECTRE OF DARTH PARLOUS

Satisfied with my day of training, I returned to my shabby new quarters. Shedding my robes; slipping into a breezy nightgown, along with some worn slippers; climbing onto the mattress; and settling as best I could (the thing creaked and shifted awkwardly beneath me), I began my usual night-routine with completing my faithful journal.

The journal had always served as a close companion to me, given that it reccounted the details of my life and the truth of my emotions far more accurately than I had ever expressed to any human. As much as I have always entertained (and hugely enjoyed) the tales of others, I've never been much of a raconteur myself, and seldom wished to share my own story or sentiments. Unless it was in the form of a diary, of course.

Scooching back on the mattress, I let my spine rest against the headboard as I wrote. A few dozen scribbles later and I found my eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Setting the old notebook aside, I pushed the air from my lungs out in one, drawn-out exhale, and my gaze settled absently on those crooked blinds that hung so uneasily atop the window.

I was growing comfortable in that position when a sudden forceful shiver prickled my spine, forcing me upright in bed. I took a quick glance around for any signs of life. All logic assured me that the firmly locked door and tightly sealed window was sufficient to keep all unwanted intruders away, but a terrible sinking feeling in my gut was screaming that I wasn't alone in the darkness. Tracing the flicker in the corner of my eye, I leapt up from the bed in horror as I heard the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber being ignited and the whole room filled with an ominous, blood-red glow.

A fearful figure, dressed head to toe in black, stood before me. The figure towered over me like a looming shadow, consuming all in it's wake. Any glint of humanity that may have been salvaged from it's eyes was shielded by a cold, impassive metal mask. I felt the warmth drain from my cheeks, and I fought off the pressing instinct to cry out in fear. Springing up and grabbing my lightsaber, I stammered backwards on my feet, watching the blade wobble slightly in the clutch of my trembling hands. Nether-the-less, I pointed it out towards the figure and tried to harbour my dignity.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?"

"I'm not here." The reply was somewhat distant and muffled beneath the mask.

"You're not?" I desperately tried to command my trembling voice, my grip on the hilt of my saber loosening a just a tad as I realised what was going on. "...You're a Force projection?"

I thought I heard a laugh from deep within the deep dark confines of that helmet – though it seemed so unlikely – as the figure remarked: "Very good, Padawan."

"Who are you? I demand you tell me!"

Again came that unsettling laugh, before the voice dropped darkly. "I am Darth Parlous, young one. But don't be frightened, I am far, far away from this place..."

"You're a Sith Lord?"

"Does that frighten you, young Val-Astra?"

This reply sent a chill scurrying down my skeleton, and a shaky breath fell from my lips at the utterance of my surname. I can certainly confirm to you that at that moment I was indeed frightened, though I proceeded with my dignified pretence. "A Jedi has no need to be frightened of a Sith. Good will always overcome evil." was my well-thought reply.

"The Sith and the Jedi are not so different, young Padawan. You and I have more in common than you'd like to acknowledge."

"We have nothing in common. You're a murderer."

"I suggest you reassess the values of your precious Jedi Order." Darth Parlous replied, somewhat mildly.

"Why?"

"Because it will change your life."

I'm sure the Sith would've been glad to know that reply was every bit as chilling as it was intended to be. Swallowing thickly, I pushed my shoulders back and tried desperately to assert myself. I then spoke with as much conviction as if I was persuading myself as well as the apparition.

"There is not a single midichlorian of evil in the Jedi Order." I urged, though it came out weakly.

"The Jedi do not welcome you, Padawan. They do not care for you, they possess no loyalty towards you. They would turn you away and shut you out as mercilessly as they did to me."

A terrible shadow of doubt loomed in my mind, and it took all the strength in my being to persuade me that these words were merely the lies and deception of the Sith. Wicked deceptions that, I prayed, held no rooting in good-natured truth.

"You have great potential, young one..." Darth Parlous went on, "You could be a powerful Sith Lord."

My expression hardened in horror. "I could never be a Sith Lord!" I tightened the grip on my saber until I was white-knuckled, "You're the scum of the galaxy. You should be purged from the universe. Every single one of you deserves to die!"

That spill of words all came out of my mouth so quickly, I found myself out of breath. Darth Parlous seemed almost impressed by my outburst. The Sith Lord gave one last disturbingly dark chuckle, before replying. The words that followed next would haunt my conscience for many sleepless nights after.

"See? You would make an excellent Sith."

In that moment, I was flooded with the overpowering urge to take a merciless swing at Darth Parlous. But before I could draw back my saber, the apparition faded to mist, leaving no traces of the visit at all. Then, the door swung open, and I leapt back once more, startled. I wondered hopelessly what other horrors this night could possibly have in store for me.

To my relief, I soon discovered it was Anakin who had kicked down the door. I gave an infinitely thankful sigh as I saw his familiar features illuminated in the green haze of my lightsaber. Anakin's own saber was still at his hip, but he rested a cautious hand over it, and marks of concern were etched allover his expression.

"Is everything alright, Thetis?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." I insisted, switching off my saber and flicking the lights on.

"I heard shouting." said Anakin, and I was a little taken aback to notice he had only a dressing robe to cover his upper body.

"I hope I didn't wake you."

"You didn't." he gave a forlorn sigh, "I'm having some trouble sleeping."

"I'm sorry about that, Anakin."

He gave a short but appreciative nod in return for my sympathy, before asking in a stern tone if I was definitely alright. I sensed he was asking a second time not out of concern, but out of a suspicion that I was lying to him.

And I was lying, in all fairness. But I feared that telling him the truth of the occurrence, of the dreaded Darth Parlous and his terrible, terrible suggestions would frame me in a suspicious light. I envisioned accusations of conspiracy, the council pointing fingers at me, the disheartened look on my Master's face and Master Windu's booming voice as he announced my expulsion from the order. I almost shuddered. No, I would not let this happen. And so, I assured Anakin once more that I was completely alright; that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred and the blame was to be placed upon some sort of nightmare or vision. With some reluctance, Anakin accepted this fiction and returned to his chambers, but I caught the glint of disbelief shimmer in his irises as he turned away.