After almost a month, I have begun to write chapter 63 of Making. It’s weird- I have to persuade myself to start new chapters now (OI! You finish this OR ELSE!) but as soon as I start writing it just comes naturally. Odd.
Anywho, today I have put together a bunch of Dooku/Palpatine/Anakin icons from spoiler pictures (one of them featuring Qui, as well…you’ll know why when you see it. :( ) and the icon inspired a ficletbunny. (which I suppose is a bit like a plotbunny but considerably smaller). I’m not sure whether to try writing it now, before tea, or sometime tomorrow. (I’m going to the theatre this evening. :) )
I think I’ll write it now. Because why not. :)
(BTW, it’ll make more sense if you’ve seen the spoiler pics, but if you’re spoiler free…well, although this is based on the pics, it doesn’t give away anything that the fandom hasn’t guessed already – the only really spoilers are the few grisly details, I guess)
Oh, and it’s told in second person merely because I’ve never done that before. ;)
You have thought about betrayal a lot lately. After all, you yourself are a master of the art of betrayal. You have betrayed everything you ever stood for, and abandoned the people you loved. Maybe they are watching you now, from beyond – you cannot think of it as the Force anymore – maybe they don’t care what’s about to happen, maybe you deserve the unplesant fate that awaits you.
One in particular may be cursing you now. Have you not allied yourself which his murderers, after all? It was foolish, it was blind, it was wicked…but it is done.
And now you can never go back.
Anakin Skywalker looks at you, eyes blazing, sabres drawn. It’s only natural that he wants revenge. You tried to kill him and his Master, sliced off his arm, and burnt him with lightening. In retaliation, he has chopped off your hands.
Years ago – many, many years ago, you could have joked about that. Somehow. If it had happened to someone else -not you, you were invincible. You were not the most sensitive man alive.
It hurts very much.
Skywalker will kill you. Your Master-you new Master-will laugh. You feel almost sorry for the boy. Killing is not easy. Dying is not easy. Living is not easy.
You feel old and weary.
Nighttime on Coruscant, a long time ago. It’s difficult to see the stars, with all the light from the planet. You are sitting on a chair, searching for something to complain about. Qui-Gon is writing in his journal. Oh, how could you have ever thought that the world was such a terrible place…
Skywalker brings his twin sabres – one of them is yours – to your neck. In one fleeting moment you feel sorry for Obi-Wan Kenobi, and for the man who you considered your son -they were wrong. And so were you.
Then the blades force their way through flesh and bone, and you go to try and find the ones you betrayed for nothing.
You’re not a Jedi. But you were.
I think I may go back and edit that one later. ;)