Chapter Text
The twin suns of Tatooine hung high in the sky, casting their relentless heat over the dusty landscape. Inside a cluttered junk shop, a young boy worked diligently on a project of his own making. Anakin Skywalker, just five years old, had a mind that seemed far too advanced for his age. His small hands moved with surprising precision as he tinkered with a humanoid droid.
“Just a little more,” Anakin muttered to himself, tightening a bolt inside the droid’s chest cavity. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, the dry heat of Tatooine’s midday sun seeping into the shop despite its shaded roof.
The bell above the door chimed, announcing the arrival of someone. Anakin’s face lit up as he recognized the broad-shouldered figure stepping into the shop.
“Dad!” Anakin exclaimed, jumping to his feet and rushing over to his father, who bent down to scoop him up into a warm hug.
“How’s my little engineer doing?” Nolan Skywalker-Grayson, asked with a smile. He set Anakin back down and ruffled his son’s hair.
“I’m great, Dad! You won’t believe the progress I made on C-3PO today!” Anakin’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he led his father over to the droid.
Nolan followed, his gaze softening as he watched his son’s enthusiasm. “Tell me all about it, Anakin.”
“Well,” Anakin began, pointing at various parts of the droid, “I managed to rewire the entire speech module so now he can understand and speak in over six million forms of communication! I also upgraded his photoreceptors, so now he can see in low-light conditions, and I fixed the servomotors in his arms so he can move more fluidly.”
Nolan knelt beside the droid, examining it with genuine interest. “That’s impressive, Anakin. You’re becoming quite the mechanic.”
Anakin beamed at the praise. “Thanks, Dad! I’m also working on his logic circuits to make him better at problem-solving. He’ll be the best protocol droid on Tatooine!”
Nolan chuckled and ruffled Anakin’s hair again. “I don’t doubt that for a second. You’ve got a real talent, son. Keep up the good work.”
Anakin’s smile widened as he watched his father stand and head towards the back of the shop. “I will, Dad! I promise!”
Nolan turned back and gave his son a reassuring nod before disappearing into the shadows of the storage area. Anakin returned to his project, the parts and pieces of C-3PO spread out before him like a puzzle waiting to be completed. He hummed a little tune, the joy of his father's approval fueling his creativity and determination.
As the suns began their slow descent towards the horizon, casting long shadows across the shop, Anakin continued his work, lost in the intricate world of circuits and gears. In that moment, everything was perfect in his young life, and the future seemed as bright as the Tatooine sky.
A few hours later, the shop was filled with the soft hum of machinery and the clinking of tools as Anakin continued his meticulous work on C-3PO. The rhythmic sounds were suddenly interrupted by the familiar chime of the holo comm. Anakin wiped his hands on a rag and quickly darted over to the device, his face lighting up as he saw his mother's image flicker into view.
“Hi, Mom!” Anakin greeted cheerfully.
Shmi Skywalker’s warm smile filled the holo display. “Hello, Ani. I’m just calling to let you know that supper is ready. Can you tell your father to come home for dinner?”
“Sure thing, Mom!” Anakin replied enthusiastically. “I’ll let him know right away.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. See you soon.”
The holo comm disconnected, and Anakin hurried towards the back of the shop where his father’s office was located. The room was dimly lit, cluttered with books, tools, and various Viltrumite artifacts. Nolan was seated at his desk, deeply engrossed in writing in his journal—a thick, weathered book that contained his personal reflections and the history of his people.
“Dad!” Anakin called out as he approached. Nolan looked up from his work, his expression softening as he saw his son. Anakin ran up to him, and Nolan gathered him into a hug.
“Mom says supper is ready!” Anakin announced with excitement.
Nolan smiled and gave Anakin a gentle squeeze before setting him down. “That’s great news. I’ll finish up here and head home in a second. You can start walking home, alright?”
“Okay, Dad!” Anakin replied.
Nolan ruffled his son's hair, but then turned his head slightly as he was overtaken by a cough—a deep, raspy sound that he tried to suppress. Anakin’s brows furrowed with concern, but Nolan quickly patted him on the back, attempting to hide the severity of his condition.
“Go on, Ani. I’ll be right behind you,” Nolan said, his voice steady but a hint of strain present.
Anakin nodded, giving his father one last look before heading out of the office and through the shop. He pushed open the door and stepped out into the fading light of Tatooine's evening, the air cooler now as the suns dipped towards the horizon.
With the shop behind him, Anakin began his walk home, the path familiar and comforting as he navigated through the sandy streets of Mos Espa.
He had been walking for a few minutes now when he heard a whimper come from an alley he was passing. Anakin, being a curious 5-year-old, decided to check it out. He made his way down the narrow, shadowy path, the sounds of distress growing louder. As he reached the end of the alley, where the whimpering was coming from, he was suddenly surrounded by a group of rough-looking men. The slavers eyed him hungrily, their intentions clear.
“Look what we have here,” one of them sneered. “A little lost boy. He'll fetch a good price.”
Anakin’s heart pounded in his chest. Panic surged through him as he realized he was in serious trouble. When one of the slavers lunged to grab him, Anakin’s fear and adrenaline took over. Instinctively, he pushed the man away, but his hands didn’t just push—they pierced straight through the slaver’s torso. His hands came out the other side, slick with blood.
Anakin stared in shock, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. The slaver looked down at the arms lodged in his torso, eyes wide with horror, before collapsing to the ground, dead.
The two remaining slavers shook off their shock and rushed towards Anakin, fury and malice in their eyes. Anakin backed up against the wall, terrified and unsure of what to do. Just as one of the slavers was about to strike, a figure emerged from the shadows behind them.
With a swift, lethal motion, the man slashed through one slaver with his arm, cutting him brutally in half. The last slaver began to back up, his face a mask of fear, but he stumbled into a wall. Before he could react further, the man moved with blinding speed, his hand smashing into the slaver’s head, caving it in. The body slumped to the ground, blood pooling around it.
Anakin stood frozen, his breath coming in quick gasps. The man turned towards him, and Anakin’s eyes widened in relief as he recognized the figure.
It was his father. Nolan.
Nolan stepped forward, his expression softening as he looked at Anakin. “It’s alright, Ani. You’re safe now.”