Narrator's POV
A/N: This whole chapter is practically a battle scene without dialogue. If you can't stand that, I recommend reading only the last couple pages, but if you like intense lightsaber duels, read on!
He lies on the cold, metal ground before her, holding himself in pain, so much pain...
She swallows and stares at him, letting nothing get in her way. Not the sadness. Not the agony, not the regret. Not the urging, poking feel of Kyla trying to make an appearance in Demetrious' hard features and frozen personality.
Nothing.
He groans and curls into a ball, holding his knees to his chest, gritting his teeth in pain. There is no more lightning electrocuting his body; this is just the aftermath. The pain of the aftermath, that he might just consider to be worse.
He speaks. It is barely intelligible, but he speaks - in a hacked, wretched cough of pain.
"They're - going to destroy your battlestation," he croaks, "The - very thing - supporting - your Empire," Anakin breathes, ending in another groan of pain.
Come on Leia, Leia princess, where are you?
Demetrious ignores his words. She can hear his thoughts.
"She can't save you now, Skywalker," she snarls, her eyes sizzling under the bright lights of the metal hallway. "I locked her in there. It's a soundproof room," she points out, beginning to step towards him, "And she is only a child. I doubt your thoughts even reach her after passing through me..."
He squeezes his eyes shut, attempting to put his shields up. At a failed attempt, he stopped trying, and continued groaning out in aches, twisted aches that would not cease.
"Yet again have you failed to realize your children's importance," she states, stepping her boot right beside him. He hears it click against the metal floor beside him, watching her as he dares open his eyes for a split second.
Another burst of pain. He clenches his eyes shut and tries to tighten his body to better prepare himself for the outbursts of ache.
"Leia is my apprentice now," she tells him with a sigh, staring off down the hallway, "And nothing can change that."
He knows what he has to do. He knows what he has to say. Fighting this way, struggling without a real struggle, didn't seem mandatory to him...
"Just... kill me now," he breathes out, groaning as he lies beside her. She knits her eyebrows and glances down at him.
She stops for a second, and then Kyla appears from nowhere, making her lungs burn.
"I - I can't."
She closes her eyes and embraces the hatred for herself. She told herself, Kyla was no more, Kyla was dead - but at her sudden words, her unexpected, sweet words that came from her mouth, she stops.
"Yes you can," Anakin groans in reply, rolling around in pain, "Just - kill me, Kyla. Kill me and get this all over with. No more - enemies, no more revenge, just... your apprentice, your Empire, your Death Star..."
Demetrious is lost. Lost without a meaning to, without an aspiration to be lost in this world she had created for herself. This confusion, this worry, it wasn't what she wanted, what she bargained for... Not at all. It was probably the opposite. She wanted to rule without a tugging feel of regret on her heels, without the annoying little voice in her head that was still Kyla - yet, she couldn't...
"No." She takes a step forward, further down the hallway, her back to Anakin as he still lies, the pain slowly coming to a close...
She hangs her head. "I hate this!" She screams, holding her head in her hands as she did so. Her words weren't directed to Anakin, or anyone else besides... Kyla. "Make it stop already!"
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Star Wars: The Chosen One || An Anakin Skywalker Story [COMPLETED]
FanfictionThe Galactic Republic is in grave danger. Since the dramatic death of the Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, the Senate believed the Republic was in no harm of being overthrown. Therefore, the Council has granted young Anakin Skywalker the rank of Master...