Return of the Queen (Illyria/Anakin Skywalker)
Return of the QueenAuthor:
Joss Whedon owns Illyria and the Buffy gang. George Lucas owns Anakin Skywalker, Jedi, lightsabers, and all the other Star Wars stuff. Not mine.Summary:
When Anakin marches on the Jedi Temple, he goes without a crucial piece of intelligence about the enemies he'll be facing. It's the last mistake he ever makes.Joe's Note:
Sister and I were watching the Star Wars marathon on Spike and she really hates Anakin Skywanker, so I wrote this to amuse her. Now you too can enjoy it.
Leading the clonetroopers up the steps of the massive Jedi Temple, Anakin Skywalker scowled beneath the hood of his cloak. He honestly wished it hadn't come to this, but Chancellor Palpatine was right. They only wanted to keep things from him… like how to save Padmé from the death his nightly visions promised awaited her. But they had, and so he'd been forced to make a choice… the Jedi Order or the man who could save his wife and unborn children?
There'd been no contest in his mind.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Anakin paused as he came face to face with a figure in Jedi robes. This was it? They couldn't possibly miss the army marching on them… and the first reports of Order 66 would be filtering in, letting know that the clones weren't on their side. And yet all they'd sent out to resist him was a single person? How completely and utterly pitiful. No wonder the chancellor had seemed so certain the Jedi would fall.
As he approached, he was able to make out that it was a human female… roughly his age, with brown hair and pale skin. He didn't know her, but that wasn't too surprising. He'd been sent straight into Obi-Wan's care, skipping out on the youngling phase where most future padawans made each others' acquaintance, and he'd been so busy out on missions that he hadn't really made many friends outside the fleet since.
That made it easier, actually, for him to make this first kill. After helping take care of Master Windu, he knew himself capable of the act… but it was easier to kill someone he'd never met. She didn't even flinch as he stalked toward her, lightsaber hilt dropping into his hand. She actually was stupid enough to give him a welcoming smile… a smile that stayed on her face right up until when he ignited his lightsaber and rammed it through her chest.
Switching off his blade, Anakin let the corpse drop to the ground and waved the clonetroopers forward. He turned away and made it three steps closer to the Temple's entrance when a voice stopped him in his tracks. "Now why'd you have to go and do something rude like that?"
Anakin turned around slowly, not recognizing the voice but knowing it could only belong to one person. After all, none of the clones were young, female, and in possession of a bizarre, twangy accent. The brown-haired woman stood there, a gaping hole in her chest, glaring at him. "How… that's impossible…"
"You may know the power of the Dark Side, Anakin Skywalker, but I am beyond such petty things. I am power incarnate; the shaper of things." The hole in her chest slowly closed and then her robes… rippled… shifting from loose robes in shades of brown and cream to a tight, multicolored catsuit. Her eyes turned as blue as the blade of his lightsaber, and the same color began to tint her scalp and strands of her hair. "I am Illyria."
Well-versed in the many ways the Force could be used to enhance his body, Anakin was fast when the circumstances called for it. But even he was left flatfooted as Illyria shot forward, too fast for him to even track, her hand wrapping around his throat and lifting him off the ground. Bringing his legs up, he kicked hard at her chest… and cried out in pain as he felt something shatter in his right foot.
Illyria's icy blue eyes continued to stare at him and then a tiny smile graced her lips. "Fascinating. You continue to attack your better, even when a far superior attack failed to cause damage." Reaching up with her free hand, she pressed her hand to his forehead. "It took me countless millennia to regain the power that was stripped from me by the Mutari generator, and many more to become this powerful. Now, I will take your power as my own to help me along the path to my former grandeur."
Then a blinding pain tore through his mind and Anakin thrashed in her grip. Bit by bit, he could feel his life draining from him. Such an odd feeling… like every cell in his body was crying out in horror the same way the clones' minds cried out to him when one of the Republic's warships was in its death throes. It was almost like a race… would she drain him to death or choke him to death?
Whichever it was, Anakin's vision faded to black as he lost consciousness.
Illyria leaned her head back and chuckled softly as she stared up at the sky. She could feel it again. Not the song of the green; no, the planet's native vegetation was long dead, replaced with imported flora in carefully cultivated gardens. No, she could hear the very elements speaking to her again… something she hadn't heard since she'd entered this shell, oh so very long ago.
Raising her arms, she reached out with her powers and PULLED. The natural order of the planet strained against her, but her will was superior and the weather patterns caved to her demands. Clouds began to form, defying the orders of the humans and their precious weather control stations, a massive storm system gathering above the Jedi Temple. This… this was power.
Actually, to be precise, it was one type of power. Turning, Illyria regarded the clonetroopers waiting on the steps. With their leader dead at her hands, they were a dragon with no head… but she could fix that. "I am Illyria, God-King of the Primordium. Swear fealty to me and you will be allowed to live."
"We are loyal only to Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and have been ordered to terminate the Jedi. Trying to intimidate us or bargain with us won't help, Mistress Jedi." The clone commander's voice was unnatural, altered by the helmet's electronics and displeasing to her ears. Illyria just watched in amusement as he raised his rifle and fired a shot into the same spot where she'd been stabbed. The red bolt splattered across her catsuit, doing about as much damage. He squeezed off a few more shots and Illyria stood and took them, the taste of his fear growing more and more pungent as she continued to live. "Open fire, damnit!"
Before the soldiers could decide whether or not to join in their commander's exercise in futility, Illyria lunged forward. Wrapping one hand around his neck, she lifted him into the air and then twisted sharply. There was a sharp crack. "I repeat, you will swear fealty to me and live, or you will oppose me and you will die. The choice is yours."
The clones looked to certain members among their numbers, who Illyria assumed were their regimental commanders. After a minute of silent conversation (or, Illyria suspected, private discussion over helmet comlinks), the quartet of commanders stepped forward. "All hail… erm… how would you prefer to be addressed?"
"I was once a god among gods, and shall someday resume that role. I am the God-King."
"All hail the God-King!"