darththalia (darththalia) wrote in tpm_flashback, @ 2004-09-05 14:49:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | accomplished |
The Exiles Series by Kass and DBKate
Original poster: marzilla
Next! *g*
Title: Exiles Universe
Author: Kass and DBKate
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Q/O
Warnings: none
Authors on LJ: wickdzoot and mousekate
Link to story: http://masterapprentice.org/archive/e/e
Reasons for recommending: All of Kass and Kate's TPM work is top notch, but the Exiles series is my personal favorite. They take us fifteen years in the future - Qui-Gon is alive, but the Jedi still fell, and he and Obi-Wan now live in hiding on Tatooine. The writing is beautiful, the emotions are poignant, and the universe is well-drawn and absorbing.
This quote is a segment from "Home," my favorite story of the series.
So this is what's killing her. She's finally seen what Qui-Gon could only describe to her with words. Words that no doubt couldn't convey one one-thousandth of the horror that the sight of Vader could convey -- and not one-millionth of the horror Anakin Skywalker has actually become.
The dark creature has triumphed and in what a way.
He has murdered his wife without laying so much as a hand upon her.
She continues, oblivious to my agony. "Yes, my dear husband. The one who swore his love and fealty to me." Her bloody smile slowly turns into laughter and the laughter turns into tears. "Do you know the awful part -- the very worst part of all is?"
I shake my head . . . unable to speak.
Both laughter and sobs begin to wrack her dying frame and what an ugly sound it is, this gruesome parody of joy. "It was at that moment, as I tried so hard to see what small piece of my husband remained behind that horrible mask, it was then that I realized how much I still love him." She coughs and chokes on her tears. "Yes, I still love him, with all my soul, and if I had the strength I would run to him yet." She takes a deep, trembling breath and more blood drips out from between her parted lips. "Yes, my dearest love. My Anakin . . . my home."
I reach for her hand and grasp it, but she pulls it away with a shudder. "I beg of you," she rasps, her face contorted, her chest heaving as she struggles for air. "By all that you hold sacred, I beg only one thing of you, Obi-Wan . . ."
I nod, trembling with misery. "Yes?"
Her request is whispered -- broken. "Don't let my son become his father."
The Exiles Universe