#summons this one from the depths of my drafts on account of i was listening to miw earlier | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

threadsketchier · 5 years

Text

Whumptober #10 - Unconscious

We now return you to your regularly scheduled whump. This is another draft scene from LTE, a little earlier in the timeframe when Luke is still sedated. References include:

The line about “oceans of sand” comes from a quote assigned to a childhood portrait of Leia from the book Star Wars Art: Visions painted by Anthony J. Waichulis.

The mention of Anakin reuniting briefly with C-3PO at Cloud City, and the italicized quote from Shmi, is from the Dark Horse comic “Thank the Maker” featured in Star Wars Tales 6.

The soundtrack placeholder for these scenes on my LTE playlist is “Stored Memories and Monica’s Theme,” by John Williams from A.I.: Artificial Intelligence. Only listen if you really wanna bawl.

She’d asked that he be given a room with a viewport; even if he wasn’t awake to see the stars’ distant light, it seemed better than leaving him confined in an interior unit.

“I used to dream of oceans of sand.”

There were so many things she wished to tell him and ask him, now that she knew their kinship. The likelihood that he could hear her was slim to none, especially in a medically-induced coma, but there was still evidence that patients could sometimes apprehend conversation. At the very least, talking to him assuaged his visitors. So she talked, far more and more candidly than she was accustomed to.

“I’d be standing in the middle of a desert, dunes and canyons as far as my eyes could see...and for some reason my hair was always loose, and the wind pushed it every which way. I felt...I didn’t feel afraid. I felt as though something was missing and I needed to find it, but I didn’t even know where to begin looking in that expanse.”

Leia’s thumb idly traced around the contours of Luke’s nailbeds. She even had to be careful in holding his hand; there was scarcely any place left on his body that wasn’t shrouded in wound dressings or pierced by IV lines, and with his prosthetic removed only his left hand was available to touch. He lay within a veritable thicket of life support machinery, his slight frame engulfed by their catheters and ventilation tubing and layers of bedding to cushion his limbs.

“Did you ever have dreams like that? Seeing the mountains and forests of Aldera?”

She reached over to stroke a finger down his exposed cheek. Nearly half his face was obscured in bandages, and what could still be seen of his skin was sickly-pale and mottled. Every day they hoped the gradual sloughing of his flesh would halt its progression. By now all his hair, even his brows and lashes, had fallen out, and his features had grown gaunt. The husk that remained of him was barely recognizable.

A tremulous smile fought its way across her lips. “All that teasing on Hoth, and you might have already seen snow earlier than we all thought.”

Keeping that stubborn sense of humor afloat was the only way any of them could enter this room and not weep or sink into despair. Leave it to Janson to have the audacity to recruit someone to knit him a soft nerfwool cap with the colors and patterns of a flight helmet and actually put it on him. Can’t leave the Boss with a cold head, he’d said.

Someone had been leaving a comlink by Luke’s pillow, and when Leia had inquired about it she’d been told that whoever was making that request adamantly wished to remain anonymous. That left her with a strong and volatile suspicion as to its contributor. Several times she’d had to quash the urge to take and analyze it, or even just destroy it. He had no right to be leaving messages for Luke. But she’d remember the beatific gaze of adoration and encouragement he’d last given Vader, and knew how crestfallen he’d be if he knew of her interfering in that communication. So she did her best to ignore the device’s presence during her time with him. This was all they had left, and she was not going to allow Vader to overshadow it.

Anakin stared down at the comlink in his palm. At first, he hadn’t known what to say or where to start. What was left of his life had been consumed by the insanity of hatred and the mundane vulgarity of Imperial bureaucracy. He’d barely begun to have any semblance of an ordinary, loving relationship with his son, a mature adult who’d managed well enough on his own to form a robust personal character and virtue.

But Luke was dying, and he was sitting here hoping to do nothing more than rot away in his meditation chamber aboard his ruined shuttle, a piece of refuse as useless as the debris that had burned up in the Forest Moon’s atmosphere and plunged into Endor’s gaseous depths. He wouldn’t deign to bring himself to Luke’s side, where all of his friends and comrades gathered in rotation to hold vigil over him.

His son was withering away, and once more Anakin was powerless to help him. Would he even be too ashamed to hold his lifeless body in his arms one last time when he finally succumbed?

So you’re not even going to see him? Anjylle had asked tartly. He’s all but died for you, and this is how you thank him?

Robotic limbs descended upon him to remove the helmet and mask, a thousand needles finer than hair retracting from his face and scalp. Scrubbed and pressurized air chilled his exposed head and filled his nostrils, familiar and abhorred only a degree less than the respirator. After gathering himself for a minute, Anakin switched on the comlink and activated a recording file.

His weak, hoarse, natural voice rasped out just above a whisper. The first thing he’d chosen to speak of, the first thing that came to mind from before, was the account of locating the bare shell of what became C-3PO in the scrapyard of Mos Espa. During his time at Cloud City, never had he expected to encounter his childhood droid again. He hadn’t wanted to admit to himself then how it had shaken him, and driven him to preserve the droid by returning him to the prisoners’ custody.

Unless you’re prepared to care for something, you don’t deserve to have it.

After that, he’d rambled aimlessly, sometimes for only a short while, sometimes for hours, until his throat was raw. Everything from tales from the Clone Wars spent among the clone troops to explaining engine diagrams. It wasn’t the content that mattered. It was only his voice, the pathetic remnants of it, grafted onto a recording to play by his son’s ear. When he’d summoned Anjylle and requested of her the task of relaying the device, only her gaze had been questioning, but no argument or protest was made.

But for all the meaningless words that spilled from his cracked lips, the ones he truly wished to convey remained locked deep within, unable to be loosed.

My son. My child. My angel. My everything. How I love you.

#yeah i made myself leak a little with this one #you're welcome #whumptober2019 #no.10 #my fics #star wars #leia organa #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #LTE

45 notes · View notes

dragon-knight1990 · 7 years

Text

Trials and Unrest Chapter 9

A/N: It's been almost a year since I started working on this installment of the Trials series. I would like to thank everyone who has stayed with me from the beginning of what was in my mind a small writing exercise that I hope has improved over time.

Chapter 9

The days following Aurora's return to her castle were restless for the young queen. The peasants her soldiers had managed to save filled spare rooms as well as the courtyard. Many of them worked for their stay. Aurora had also approved training any able body in combat.

As she moved through the corridors to attend one of her many meetings with her council, she found just how crowded her residence had become. She was greeted with both "Your Highness" and "Majesty." Their reaction to Maleficent was stark by contrast. Many of them cowered, or crossed themselves before scurrying off. The faery didn't seem to mind as much as Aurora; in fact, she seemed to enjoy being able to still instill fear into the hearts of men. At this, Aurora had to laugh internally and shake her head.

Aurora entered her council chambers to find everyone already waiting for her. She apologized for her tardiness before taking her seat amongst her council, while Maleficent stood in the shadows.

"Your Highness, our food reserves are strained. If we do not ration food, Ulstead will defeat us by starvation."

Aurora frowned at Lord Isaac's report. She couldn't allow her people to starve, not if there was anything she could do. "Are there not food stores in the royal silos?"

"There are, but—"

"Divide that up amongst the people. Everyone should have a fair share if we are to survive the winter."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"There are reports from our spies that King Phillip has allied himself with the Burgundians," Lord Malcolm said. "That alone will put his numbers ahead of our own, twenty to one, even with the Moors at our side."

"That is grim news indeed," Aurora replied. Her lips thinned into a hard line as she considered how she should respond. She knew her forefathers had allies spread across the land, but she didn't know if those kingdoms would stand with her. Politics dictated that she would have to offer something in exchange for aid. She didn't like the idea of political marriages, especially as that was part of the reason she was warring with Phillip.

"Lord Isaac, what resources do we have for trade?"

"My Queen, what are you proposing?" Lord Vernon inquired. His eyes narrowed suspiciously; it was a minute expression, one that Aurora almost didn't catch.

"If we can find something that any of our allies need, we could negotiate terms for them to come to our aid."

"I will consult our registries," Lord Isaac promised.

"Thank you, Lord Isaac. Is there anything else that needs to come to my attention?"

"Your Majesty, might I suggest another Ball?" Lord Malcolm spoke after a short silence. "We must keep morale up."

"Lord Malcolm, the treasury will be depleted if we continue on in this manner," Lord Isaac interjected before Aurora could open her mouth.

She could see the validity of both points. During her war with Gregory, what little surplus she had managed to build in the royal treasury had been nearly depleted, and she hadn't been able to replenish it. The truth was, war costs money as well as lives, and she was all too well accustomed to that truth.

"Lord Isaac is right, Lord Malcolm. If you could find a way to throw this Ball without using the royal coffers, then I will consider your proposal. The unfortunate truth in the matter is that Alba is going broke defending our people. And a new tax on the peasants will break them, which I will not see happen."

"A truly noble sentiment, Your Majesty," Lord Vernon commented. "However, as you stated yourself, war is costly. The peasants really ought to pay, if they expect the crown to protect them."

Her lips thinned, and her nostrils flared at his words as her ire rose. Her council was really getting under her skin these days, much as they did before her exile. She glared at him, and had to remind herself that he didn't grow up as a peasant, as she had, so he had no way of understanding the plight of peasants. She considered replacing her council with peasants who had that knowledge and would be more compassionate than these vultures.

"Let me say this in language you will comprehend," she began slowly, "If we increase taxes on our peasants to the point you are proposing, they will starve, and then where would you get your food and riches?"

That seemed to have Lord Vernon tongue-tied. Satisfied, she moved on.

"Lord Isaac, when you have accounted for everything in the royal treasury, come find me. Now, if there is no other business, I must take my leave."

Without really waiting for a response, Aurora got to her feet. She walked with her head held high and Maleficent at her side.

"You know that they are going to propose pillaging the riches in the Moors," the faery said once they were out of earshot.

Aurora frowned. "I know. Regardless, I won't allow that to happen."

"I believe you," Maleficent replied. "But I do not trust your nobility. Their greed knows no bounds."

"I agree. I knew that I could not change things over night when I agreed to rule. I fear for what may happen once I am no longer on the throne."

They shared a knowing look. They both knew that Aurora's successors would not heed the alliance with the Moors; it was inevitable that the two kingdoms would go back to war; the question was when. It was not a comforting thought. Aurora knew that if she were going to truly succeed as Alba's queen, she would have to find a way to keep her vision of peace a reality for generations to come.

"You will think of something."

"Are my thoughts becoming so obvious?" Aurora forced a chuckle at that. After all these years, Maleficent seemed to always know what was on her mind, and yet she knew so little about her consort.

"I simply know the fate of the Moors weighs heavy on your shoulders, just as it does mine."

"Would you care to join me in the library?"

"If that is your wish."

Aurora couldn't help the small smile she granted Maleficent at those words. It seemed like a lifetime ago since she first heard those same words. She was a different person then, young and innocent to the world of men. Now she felt much older than her years, and jaded. She was certainly more somber.

They walked side by side to the library. It didn't take Aurora long to find the tome she was looking for. She recalled looking at it during her lessons with Lord Alphonse. The memory of her deceased councilman brought a pang of loss to her heart. She felt lost without his advice. Outside Maleficent and Phillip, he was the only one she really turned to when she felt uncertain.

"What is troubling you?" Maleficent inquired, breaking her thoughts.

"Just remembering a mentor who is no longer with us," Aurora responded. "Gregory butchered Lord Alphonse when he tried to execute me for treason."

"I remember." The faery's voice was solemn. "It isn't your fault."

Aurora wanted to believe her. Yet she knew that she held some of the responsibility for his death. If she had just given in to her council's demand, none of the tragedies from the past year would have happened.

"None of that matters now," she said, more to herself than Maleficent. "We have to keep moving forward. Make every death mean something."

She flipped through the book, searching for records of old treaties she could use as leverage to receive aid from her allies. "Looks like our best options are Umbra, Normandy, and the Danes. I just hope that my father didn't forsake them in his lust for power."

"You are not your father," Maleficent reminded her.

"I know that, but the kings might not see it that way. Could you summon Lord Isaac? I need him to draft up requests to these kingdoms promptly."

"Of course."

Aurora waited for Maleficent to leave before she crumbled in her seat. The pressure was simply too much in that moment. She had no way of knowing if Phillip would call on his allies to back him; she was almost certain he would. The man had been raised knowing he would one-day rule, whereas she was shooting in the dark. Compared to him, she was out of her depth.

She reigned in her doubt and composed herself when she heard Lord Isaac's voice. She stood as he entered with Maleficent close on his heels.

"You summoned me, Your Majesty?"

"I did. I need you to draft letters to King Charles of Brittany, King Æthelred of Umbria, and King Horik of the Danes. Draw from these treaties to get them to grant their assistance against Ulstead. When you are finished with all three, find me in my quarters."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

With that done, Aurora left the library with Maleficent at her side. She felt somewhat more at ease knowing that she was doing everything in her power to get the aide her kingdom needed to survive her war against Phillip. She figured that even if just one of the three kingdoms answered her call, she had a better chance of seeing Alba, the Moors, and most importantly Maleficent safe.

"I grow weary," Aurora confessed as she took Maleficent's offered arm.

"Might I suggest retiring early then? You can listen to the woes of your people on the morrow."

As much as Aurora hated putting her people second to her own concerns, she knew that she was no good to them tired. She nodded and followed her consort to their chambers.

By the time they reached the royal bedchambers, her mind felt foggy. Just as soon as Maleficent undid her dress, and her head hit her pillow, she welcomed the sweet feeling of sleep.

Maleficent's eyes softened as she watched her lover sleep. It felt like weeks since Aurora had gotten any proper sleep, and she was content to let her remain unconscious for as long as she could help.

At Diaval's insistent cawing, she flicked her wrist and turned him into a man. "You better not wake her," she warned.

"I would never dream of it," he replied. "I'm well aware she's gotten little sleep as it is, with Phillip's betrayal, the war, and she's still dealing with that awful thing that happened to her in that war against Gregory."

Maleficent gritted her teeth at the mention of the fact that a band of men had dared violate Aurora. Her nostrils flared and her lips thinned. It wasn't until swirls of magic emanated from her that her confidant brought her fury to her attention.

"I don't blame you for being angry, Mistress," he added, bobbing his head. "It was an awful thing, what they did to her. I should know—I—I saw it happen."

Her eyes flashed at that, but she kept a tight reign on her magic. "Diaval, bring me her sword."

She ignored his quizzical look. As soon as the sword was in her hands, she imbued it with her magic. "So long as Aurora holds this sword, it is my will that she will be true to herself."

"That is quite the gift, if I do say so myself, Mistress."

A small smile touched her lips. She thought of the regret she still felt for her curse, but did not speak of it. It was in the distant past, and now she would do everything in her power to keep Aurora safe and whole.

"It has been quite the journey for us, hasn't it, my friend?"

Her smile widened at the befuddled look he gave her. She chuckled softly, knowing that her comment had him so confused.

"Hey, don't get all sentimental on me now!"

Aurora whimpered. At this, Maleficent glared daggers at her companion as she swooped in to comfort the distressed woman.

"Into a bird."

It wasn't long after Maleficent closed her eyes to rest before a knock came from the door. She shot a glare at the source of the disturbance before she carefully untangled herself from Aurora and went to answer the door.

"Maleficent!" Lord Isaac's eyes were wide as he stared up at her.

"Yes. What is it?" Her impatience with him was swift.

"I finished writing those letters the queen asked for."

Maleficent's nostrils flared. She couldn't help it. Even though she knew he was ordered to find Aurora as soon as he finished the letters requesting aid, she still felt it wasn't worth waking her lover over. "So send them. That's what you do, isn't it?"

"Y—yes," he stuttered before scampering away.

The faery very nearly slammed the door after him. She stalked back to the bed and settled in beside Aurora. It was a long while before she was able to relax enough to close her eyes.

She wondered who these kings were Aurora was seeking aid from. What were the chances that they too would betray them? What would they demand in return? Would they seek the riches of the Moors? She certainly had never heard of them, nor their kingdoms.

"Diaval." He cawed from his perch when he heard his name. "Into a man."

"What is it, Mistress?"

"Find Balthazar. Tell him that Aurora has called on three kings to aid us."

"At once, Mistress."

"Into a bird."

She got up for a second time to open the window for him before returning once more to the promising comfort she found nestled in the bed. As soon as he flew out the window, she allowed her mind to rest, and so did the rest of her body. It was going to be a long war, that much she was certain.

To be continued…

#Trials and Unrest #Chapter 9 #malora #Maleficent #Aurora #Diaval

0 notes