It was a mental storm that trapped him here, where he once believed himself to be the most free.
He knew they were on their way to the Senate building even now, as he observed the Coruscanti evening.
The setting sun cast parts of the Republic capital in a darkness that rivaled that of the darkness within him.
Speeders, a respectful distance away from their honored Temple, shoot through the polluted air at high speeds, the sentients within eager to return home to their mundane lives.
Despite the broadcasts of the war, a rampage of the mythical Zillo beast, and the battle that took place in their own atmosphere, the citizens remained separated from the ending war.
Their lives consisted of arising early to go to work, perhaps as a waitress or an accountant, eating an old, packed, bland lunch,
and then returning home to a family that awaited with open arms and loving smiles. It was repetitive, predictable, and boring. Anakin Skywalker envied them.
These denizens of the Galactic Republic did not have the struggles of the galaxy weighing upon their shoulders because of some barely understood prophecy.
They were not bound by the shackles a commissioning as General earned. They were not plagued by visions of their true love dying as a forbidden child grew within her womb.
They were not trapped in the Council chambers as a Master, who had claimed not to trust the newest Council member, sped off with three other Masters to stop what could be his, no-Padme’s, only hope.
They were not trapped by this internal war raging through his mind.
Duty, honor, and code bound, he knew he must remain here, watching Padme’s apartment from afar. Yet, images of his mother’s death played through his head over and over and over and over again.
Ahsoka Tano, her back turned away from him as she walks down the steps to begin a life away from the Jedi, away from him. He failed them all, despite preemptive warnings.
The sound of a baby’s cry muffling the sounds of the mother’s dying gasps was superimposed on his visual perception of the city-planet beneath him.
Her face, still beautiful, was contorted in her pain. It kept playing in his mind. She will die, and he would fail her just as he failed everyone else. He was not the Jedi he should be.
Something was happening. Yet, here he remained, locked in the cage of orders from an apathetic Korun Jedi Master.
A tear rolls down his cheek in his anguish. He was afraid. Afraid of failure. Afraid of death. Afraid of being shackled by chains. Afraid of losing her. Even now, he could sense her.
Her emotions. As the war came to an end, she too was afraid. Yet, she did not seem afraid of losing him. No, she was afraid the Republic was changing, even if it was for the better.
She was becoming more like a Separatist. A sudden drop in the Force, a disturbance of the likes he has never felt before, jolts through Anakin’s core.
Sheev Palpatine, one he once saw a friend and mentor, was reaching for him. Padme would die. The Chancellor would not let her.
Perhaps the man was a Sith, yet Anakin still sees the good within the man. He would save her.
A Code, one that does not belong to the Jedi,
rings through Anakin’s mind as he rushes past surprised Padawans and Knights (the vast majority of masters were fighting as soldiers instead of peacekeepers in this war).
His cage breaks as he bursts through, resolved to save Padme’s savior. “Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall set me free.”