Force bound Feelings (Anakin Skywalker x reader)

Chapter ninety eight

Third person pov

"Lord Schina sir: my apologies m'lord but we failed to recover the body of (y/n) (y/l/n)." A rather terrified looking soldier reported to the dark haired man known as Alexus Schina. Sat upon the queens thrown the man didn't even turn to take noticed of the pair as they stood before him, instead his gaze lingered upon the Mando'a chess piece of a charged tribes leader that lay between his thumb and forefinger. Alexus Schina: a practised sociopath, so one with no care for basic human ethics, a prime example of a modern day monster. Alexus cared for one thing, profit.

"...well now isn't that a shame: still, can't be helped a suppose, that's what one should expect when a woman pitched herself from the highest balcony," the man spoke with an unbothered sigh as he rubbed his thumb over the playing pieces helmet till in shone in the golden light. He then threw the most likely plundered piece in the air and caught it within his palm as he stood with a fluttering of his darkest violet cloak that made the article of clothing seem half alive. The two soldiers stood stuffed as statues as he approached, both watching his hands as it skimmed the ornate pommel of his sword. "You are finished,"
He spoke simply though the knights did not get a moment to enjoy their freedom before being relieved of their heads as the man drew his sword with a fluid movement. Alexus Schina did not flinch nor look round as the two bodies clad in amour fell to the floor. Knowing now he had the rooms attention by how it fell silent Alexus sheathed his sword with a long metal scrape and exhaled a discounted sigh.

"...find her: the emperor will not pay for a death without a body: in the meantime I must return to the capital and deliver general Skywalker, should news come send it straight to my personal staff, understood?" The man spoke clearly as his cold gaze swept the room meeting each occupants eyes with deadly intention. Immediately every soldier present salutes and gave a hasty 'yes sir'. Alexus's lips tugged into a slight smirk before he proceeded out the throne room at a brisk pace towards where his ship waited, passing out the building just as a certain separatist craft came to land. However he did not notice the landing craft nor would he be aware of its implications until later that night. Instead he made his way onto his own craft and proceeded down to the cargo hood as they lifted into the he atmosphere and prepared to jump to the well concealed capital of Dillau.

"...when I get out of these you're dead mark my words." Anakin growled from where he hung chained up against the wall bloodied and bruised, a dark mark across his face from where he'd been harshly kicked earlier and blood trailing down his jaw. The general was still shirtless and thus old scars of light pink mixed with the new ones of red purple and black to form a sickening pattern across his skin. Yet still, fire continued to burn within his crystal blue eyes.

"Oh I don't think so general," Alexus spoke with a low chuckle as he pulled up a chair before the battered and beaten man, clicking his fingers to signal for the guards to leave. Which they did. "You see general Skywalker: my mother despises Jedi, it was a Jedi to tear her favourite some from her grasp...I believe you knew her, one Ari Shimara," he proceeded to add seeming to enjoy toying with by speaking in riddles rather than staring the fact clearly. Anakin's eyes widened a little as some of the pieces finally clicked into place. "Now you see: you are to be a gift to her of sorts...well, a gift for her dear beasties more like." He chuckled darkly with a slightly psychotic look as he sat there and twirled that same chess figure through his fingers. Anakin growled and tugged harshly at his restraints causing them to rattle.

"Where's (y/n)?!" He exclaimed in frustration completely disregarding his own safety as the man before him continued to chortle. Alexus frowned falling silent and looked back to Anakin, tilting his head to one wife in a way that cause his hair to drift.

"...My condolences: it appears you won't be needing that wedding any longer." He spoke in a voice that lacked any compassion, a sly grin slowly growing across his lips with every word to leave his lips. Anakin began to yell and curse: tugging with more anger and rage against his restraints, though there was also desperation. A desire to break free and ensue his words weren't true.