Tatooine
Several months had passed since Shmi arrived on Tatooine.
She had learned how to survive.
That was all she had needed.
The desert was harsh.
The people were harsher.
But Shmi had survived worse.
She had survived Asgard.
She had survived Cul.
She had survived watching her brothers turn against one another.
Compared to that, Tatooine was simply another place she had to endure.
Her life inside Watto's shop had settled into a routine.
She repaired machinery.
She cleaned the workshop.
She dealt with customers.
She learned the local markets.
And she saved every credit she could.
Freedom remained her goal.
She didn't know how long it would take.
She didn't know whether she would ever achieve it.
But she refused to stop trying.
Then something changed.
Far beyond Tatooine, beyond the Republic's known territories, two figures stood inside a chamber filled with darkness.
One was old.
The other was young.
Neither spoke for several minutes.
Between them floated a small object.
A living thing.
Or rather, something that had once been living.
The older man raised his hands.
The Force moved.
The chamber trembled.
"We are close."
The younger man watched carefully.
"Close to what?"
"Creation."
The older man smiled.
"Life itself."
The experiment had taken years.
Knowledge gathered from forbidden texts.
Ancient Sith rituals.
Alchemical studies.
Manipulation of the Force.
The Sith had spent generations seeking immortality.
Now they sought something greater.
Creation.
The ability to create life through the Force itself.
The older Sith closed his eyes.
The younger followed his movements.
Together, they reached into the Force.
They pushed.
They commanded.
They demanded.
The Force resisted.
The older Sith gritted his teeth.
"Again."
They pushed harder.
The darkness expanded.
The Force screamed.
For a moment, something appeared.
A presence.
Small.
Unformed.
Unimaginably powerful.
The younger Sith smiled.
"Did we succeed?"
The older Sith opened his eyes.
"No."
The chamber went silent.
"Then what was that?"
The older Sith stared into the darkness.
"I don't know."
Neither Sith noticed the change taking place beyond their chamber.
Neither noticed the Force itself responding to their intrusion.
They had attempted to create life.
The Force had answered.
But it had not obeyed them.
It had chosen its own response.
Their attempt to control creation had produced something they could never have intended.
A child.
A child created through the will of the Force itself.
A child that would one day challenge the balance they sought to control.
The Sith had attempted to create a weapon.
The Force created a counterweight.
Tatooine
Shmi woke suddenly.
She sat upright.
Her breathing was heavy.
She looked around the room.
Nothing.
Everything was normal.
The small room.
The dusty window.
The dim light.
The sounds of Mos Espa outside.
She placed a hand against her chest.
Her heartbeat was unusually fast.
Then she felt it.
Something.
Not outside her.
Inside.
Shmi froze.
She placed a hand against her stomach.
There was no pain.
Only warmth.
A strange sensation.
Almost like another presence.
She frowned.
"That's impossible."
She had not been with anyone.
She knew that.
She had spent months trying to survive.
There was no explanation.
She stood and walked toward the small mirror.
Her reflection looked normal.
She stared at herself.
Then the pendant around her neck became warm.
Shmi grabbed it.
The crystal glowed.
Only for a moment.
Then it went dark.
Shmi stepped backward.
"What are you?"
The pendant gave no answer.
The following morning, Shmi went to work.
Watto immediately noticed something was wrong.
"You look terrible."
Shmi glared at him.
"Good morning to you too."
"You're usually faster."
"I'm tired."
Watto narrowed his eyes.
"You're sick?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
Watto shrugged.
"Then get back to work."
Shmi returned to the machinery.
She tried to focus.
But something felt different.
The Force.
She didn't know the name for it yet.
She had heard people talk about it.
The Jedi.
The mysterious warriors who supposedly served some ancient order.
Shmi had never felt the Force before.
At least, she didn't think she had.
But now she could feel something.
A presence.
Faint.
Distant.
Yet somehow close.
She closed her eyes.
For the briefest moment, she saw a vision.
A child.
A boy.
Golden hair.
Blue eyes.
Standing beneath a strange sky.
Then the vision vanished.
Shmi opened her eyes.
Her heart raced.
She looked around.
Nobody had noticed.
She placed a hand against her stomach again.
"Who are you?"
Nothing happened.
Weeks passed.
The changes became impossible to ignore.
Shmi was pregnant.
She knew it before anyone told her.
She didn't understand how.
She didn't know why.
But she knew.
When she finally confirmed it, she sat alone for a long time.
Her hand rested against her stomach.
She should have been frightened.
Instead, she felt something she hadn't experienced since leaving Asgard.
Hope.
A small smile appeared.
"A child."
She whispered the words.
Her eyes became wet.
She laughed quietly.
She had lost her family.
Lost her home.
Lost her title.
Lost everything she had once known.
Yet somehow, she had been given something new.
Someone who would belong to her.
Someone she could protect.
Someone who wouldn't know Asgard.
Someone who wouldn't know Cul.
Someone who wouldn't know Odin.
She looked toward the window.
The twin suns hung above Mos Espa.
"I'll protect you."
She placed her hand against her stomach.
"No matter what."
The pregnancy was strange.
Shmi expected the usual difficulties.
Instead, she remained remarkably healthy.
The child grew normally.
But there were moments when strange things happened.
Tools moved by themselves.
Small objects fell from shelves whenever Shmi became frightened.
Lights flickered when she became angry.
Once, while repairing a damaged droid, she became frustrated.
The tool in her hand suddenly flew across the room.
Shmi stared at it.
Silence filled the workshop.
Watto looked at her.
"What was that?"
Shmi slowly looked toward the tool.
"I don't know."
Watto narrowed his eyes.
"Are you sure?"
"No."
That answer made him uncomfortable.
He decided not to ask again.
As the months passed, Shmi began speaking to the child.
Not because she expected an answer.
Because she didn't want to feel alone.
"You won't stay here forever."
She sat outside the shop one evening.
Her hand rested against her stomach.
"We'll leave."
She looked toward the stars.
"I don't know where we'll go."
A small smile appeared.
"But we'll find somewhere."
The child moved.
Shmi froze.
Then laughed.
"You heard me?"
Another movement.
Shmi smiled.
"Stubborn already."
She looked toward the stars again.
She wondered whether the child would ever see Asgard.
Whether he would ever meet Odin.
Whether he would ever know that his mother had once been a princess.
She decided that perhaps it was better if he never knew.
The past could stay buried.
Far away, the two Sith continued their research.
They never discovered what they had caused.
They believed their experiment had failed.
The Force had deceived them.
Their attempt to create life had produced nothing they could control.
They moved on.
They began searching for another method.
They never considered the possibility that their actions had already succeeded.
Somewhere on a desert planet, a child was growing inside a woman who had once been an Asgardian princess.
A child created through the Force.
A child whose potential would eventually reshape the galaxy.
Shmi looked down at her stomach.
She smiled.
"Anakin."
She had decided on the name.
She didn't know why it felt right.
It simply did.
"Your name will be Anakin."
The pendant beneath her clothes grew warm.
Shmi didn't notice.
The crystal remained dormant.
Waiting.
Waiting for the day when her son would finally touch it.
Waiting for the day when its true nature would be revealed.
But that day was still many years away.
For now, there was only a mother.
A child.
And the endless desert of Tatooine.