AN: This story is based off of several fan theories and my own musings, most of which are already AU thanks to Alan Dean Foster's novelization. Should I be writing a new multi-chapter fic when I still have my Game of Thrones behemoth over on AO3 to finish (which I will one day cross-post here)? Nope. But what can I say? The force is strong with the (rabid) plot bunnies. Also, this fic is full of spoilers for The Force Awakens (this chapter is just a prologue—the rest of the fic takes place post-TFA, with flashbacks to the events of the film), so read at your own risk. If anyone is interested in beta-ing this story or serving as a sounding board, etc., please PM me!

The Chosen Ones

in the dark (for a while now)

For over a century he pulled strings from the shadows and watched his puppets dance. He found he quite liked it that way. It was easier, better. They never suspected a thing—he was supposed to be dead, after all—meaning they never resisted, or worse, rebelled. In sum, more reward, less risk. What could be better than that?

But then the visions began. Visions of his demise, a feeling of utter defeat unlike anything he had ever felt before, and a pair of dark brown eyes, triumphant. The eyes of a girl, a girl who more often than not starred in the visions that plagued him. A girl, he quickly discovered, not yet born. Not for many years yet, as her mother was not yet born, either, and her father a young boy—a young boy strong in the Force, but a child nonetheless.

If it was just a matter of killing the boy, things would be incredibly simple. He could easily manage it without leaving the comfort of the shadows that sustained him.

Unfortunately, it was not so simple. The will of the Force could not be denied, only corrupted. He knew this. He was the master of corruption. If he killed the boy, another would take his place. If he killed the girl, another would take hers. If he let them live long enough for the child to be born, and then killed it (and them too, probably), another would come along in time, and there was no guarantee that he would be so fortunate as to be forewarned.

No, his knowledge was his advantage, and he was far too clever to destroy his advantage. That was the sort of foolish thing his many puppets over the years would have done—indeed, many of them had—and that was why they were all dead while he was still alive and well.

So he waited. He had knowledge, and he had time. Only fools rushed in, and he was no fool. He waited for the girl's birth—into a relatively wealthy family of merchants—before starting to make any plans. She was also strong in the Force, but so entrenched in the Light that it caused him physical pain. He wouldn't say incorruptible, because, as far as he was concerned, there was no such thing—but risky, and difficult. He knew it would be in his best interest to keep them apart, if possible, and quickly decided that the boy would be a much better target for his efforts.

While the girl was remarkably Force-sensitive, her parents were feeble-minded fools, easily manipulated into dropping off their only child on the backwater planet Jakku. If their ship happened to be raided by pirates and they happened to be killed after foolishly trying to fight off their captors, well, all the better for him. Her parents were also only children, and her grandparents all long dead, so there were no relatives left to come looking. The girl would survive on Jakku—it was in his best interest that she lived, after all—but little else.

Then, of course, there was the boy—an adolescent, by now. Incredibly strong in the Force, angry, unstable. In a word, perfect. But the whole matter was too delicate to entrust to even the most obedient of puppets. No, he would have to do this himself.

So Darth Plagueis the Wise stepped out of the shadows for the first time in over a century—but not before giving himself a new name: Snoke.

Luke often felt the presence of the ghosts—of Obi-Wan, Yoda, even his father—but ever since Ben was born, he had felt a tugging at the edge of his consciousness, and he knew. He knew they were calling to him. But Luke was so afraid of what they would say that he avoided them, avoided reaching a true meditative state where they could reach him, for months, nearly a year, until he simply couldn't deny them any longer.

It was his father.

Luke was mildly surprised. He had seen his father's ghost on Endor, but never before had he truly contacted Luke, especially on his own. It had been many years, and Luke was struck again by not just his father's resemblance to him, but to Ben.

"You've been avoiding me." Anakin's words could have been accusing, but his tone was not.

"Yes." Luke saw no point in lying.

"I can sense your fear," Anakin said.

"I am afraid," Luke replied.

"You should not be."

"Oh?" Luke was flooded with relief.

"It will do you no good—it will do him no good." Fear crashed over Luke once more.

"Then what will?" Luke wondered.

"Listen to me very carefully," Anakin said.

Luke only nodded. Anakin's expression suddenly turned remorseful, though his gaze remained determined. "I failed you, Luke. I failed all of you, and I am so sorry."

"What do you mean?" Luke asked.

"They called me the Chosen One. I'm sure you've heard the same?"

"Well, once or twice…"

"And they were right. And wrong. There was never a Chosen One, Luke—it was always meant to be two."

"You and me?"

"Yes. You were supposed to bring balance to the Force. I was supposed to destroy the Sith—and I failed. The Force will never be in balance so long as the Sith exist."

"But Palpatine—"

"Was a puppet, Luke. Just as I was his," Anakin would not deny the truth, though it caused him immeasurable shame. "Search your feelings, Luke. You know I speak the truth. You feel the darkness rising. You know it never went away."

"Then who?

"I can't tell you who, Luke. Or what, or when," Anakin admitted.

"Then what can you tell me?" Luke asked. He was beginning to feel as if he were speaking with Yoda.

"There is a reason, Luke, why there must be two. To be destructive is to destroy oneself—and removing the Sith is destructive, though it is for the greater good. No one being could destroy the Sith and still be able to bring balance to the Force. It requires purity of character, something that must be sacrificed in destroying the Sith. I failed to destroy the Sith, so it is not in your power to restore balance to the Force."

"So then I must destroy the Sith."

"No, Luke. It is not in your character. You know who it must be."

"Ben? No!" Luke cried.

"He carries a terrible burden—but it is his to bear. You cannot carry it for him. You can only help him. Train him, prepare him for what is to come. He can't lose himself, like I did. He will have to do terrible, terrible things. He will have to go into the very heart of darkness without becoming part of it."

Luke nodded, though he was incredibly displeased. "And if he manages all this, then who is the second? Who will bring balance to the Force?"

"She's not born yet."

"And, let me guess, you can't tell me anything else?"

"That would be correct," Anakin confirmed. "But look within, Luke, and you will find you already know far more than I could ever tell you."