#aph memepan | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

damnprussia · 8 years

Text

Star Wars: A PrUK Story

@aph-memepan, I’m your secret santa for @prukevents & the PrUK Secret Santa! I won’t lie, I struggled a lot with your prompts, I have no idea why. I’m writing this, powering through a week-old headache and I realise that it just can’t wait.

You asked for superpower AU and that’s not my specialty at all; I’ve been hit with the Star Wars bug (okay that’s a lie, I’m always hit with the Star Wars bug) and this Jedi AU has been calling my name. I have no idea if you like the Wars, so I’ve tried to keep this as vague as possible while still keeping with the idea of ‘superpowers’. Force sensitivities = super powers basically, right?

Rated SFW, mentions of sex, and some psychological manipulation.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away . . . .

STAR WARS

Episode LXIX

SOME GAY SHIT HAPPENS

It is a period of war between the Jedi Order and the evil Sith Empire as the two armies fight for control of the galaxy. As the Sith spread across the galaxy, their numbers grow with mandatory conscription of those sensitive to the Force on planets they control.

One Jedi Knight, Gilbert Beilschmidt, has fled the Jedi Order and is presumed dead. He is residing in the planet Nebulan, hiding his connection to the Force as the Sith Empire overtake the planet.

His former Apprentice, Arthur Kirkland, betrayed the Jedi Order and has risen the ranks of the Sith. He takes residence on Nebulan, taking command of its jurisdiction. A ripple in the Force alerts him to a familiar presence that is not far away...

“Last call, we’re closing soon - last call.”

A bar on Nebulan was surprisingly busy for an average night, but that wasn’t so bad. The patrons were rowdy as usual, with young men and women chatting each other at the bar, engaging in fights, and probably making illegal trade deals in the corners, or whatnot. At least nobody’s limbs had been amputated.

The bar hadn’t been full like this since the Sith Empire - a powerful legion of Force users who used their powers to gain power over others.

From a business standpoint, Sith occupation of Nebulan was a good thing. Young Sith apprentices and loyalists enjoyed their drink, and as much as they enjoyed reaching out to take control of everything they could, it seemed that they enjoyed losing control just as much. They didn’t tip too well, but they made up for it in third and fourth rounds.

From a business owner’s standpoint, Sith occupation was a headache that no medicine or droid lullaby could send away. They were rowdy, loud, demanding, and awfully rude to the locals who might just be trying to escape their troubles.

Somehow, though, peace and calm reigned in the bar. There was always order, and usually calm. Disputes were taken outside and matters settled promptly. It may have had to do with the certain business owner and bartender who appeared to rule with an iron fist. There was something innate about his ability to set things at a calm.

Gilbert Beilschmidt had come to Nebulan mysteriously, set up his business seemingly overnight, and that had been that. Those that inquired about his past, where he came from, who he was, were met with vague, dodgy answers, and since he was good at what he did - that is, getting the patrons drunk and making sure nobody died in the process - questions soon died away. Gilbert was integrated into the community as quickly as he could pour his drinks.

With fifteen minutes left of an otherwise smooth night, two young Sith were harassing a lady at the bar. They were both young, obviously apprentices, wearing black. For the moment, the bartender (and other patrons) ignored them, not wanting confrontation. However, the moment they both put their hands on her, both of their nearly-full drinks shattered, alcohol spilling all over them. Somehow, not a drop reached the lady, who quickly ducked out of their domineering after they both stood up in anger.

“Who did that?” they were shouting, looking around wildly to find the source of the mischief. Just as they started accusing other patrons of being the cause, Gilbert approached, standing before them. “Alright,” he said simply. “Out, both of you.”

They looked affronted. “You don’t tell us what to do-”

“OUT.” Something in his tone, and the sharpness in his red eyes quieted them both, and all other patrons around them. For several moments, they stared at each other, before slowly, the willpower of the younger patrons wilted and they slowly retreated, mumbling under their breaths.

Within the hour, the rest of the patrons were gone, quick to leave after the other Sith argued about “returning for revenge”. Gilbert was not intimidated by their words.

His only other assistants were two droids who cleaned, passed drinks to passengers, and assisted in security detail. He liked them, because they were resistant to the powers of the Dark Side that the Sith possessed. They fettered around the establishment, sweeping and mopping after their unruly patrons.

Gilbert was cleaning his second-to-last tankard behind the bar, when a shadow from the corner of the building began to move, and come towards him.

“I announced last call an hour ago,” Gilbert said to the dark form, hardly looking up.

It was a man clad in black, just as the other Sith had been. He came to the bar, silently, deliberately, and sat down on the closest stool, off to the far right corner. Gilbert did not seemed perturbed by his presence, even as the other leaned in. “How long have you known I was here?” He took the edges of his hood and slid it back to reveal a pale face with sharp features, and illustrious green eyes and blonde hair.

Only then did Gilbert look up and face him. He took a deep breath, staring at the face of Arthur Kirkland, his former apprentice, back a long time ago, in a different time, when he was a different man. When he was a Jedi - when Arthur was a Jedi.

Damn. Arthur looked magnificent. Confident, powerful, intelligent.

As they stared at each other, assessing one another, Gilbert was reminded of the first time he had laid eyes on the man, nearly ten years ago. Far away, in the Jedi temple of Coruscant, illustrated in a convenient flashback sequence:

“You’ll be given an apprentice,” he had been told by the Jedi council. “One who is not a child, and not our typical recruit.”

Gilbert knew then that he should have said ‘no’. Whenever the Jedi council deviated from the norm, it meant it was convenient for them, and inconvenient for everyone else. But Gilbert was in no position to reject the Council’s decision to assign this unorthodox Apprentice on him.

“What makes him special?” Gilbert had asked.

There was nervousness throughout the council. Eight powerful Jedi, looking at each other in disdain. Never a good sign. “He has the potential to be a powerful Force user. Incredibly sensitive, with Force precognition and emotional manipulation. He is an adult, from the far corner of the galaxy.”

Gilbert’s eyes narrowed. “So?” There was more to this...

“We have acquired him based on the facts that he has an affinity for the Dark Side. Sith Masters were closing in on him, and from what we have seen of him, he was not entirely unwilling to join.”

Yes, there it was. There was the one thing he was waiting for. “An affinity for the Dark Side”. Just like him. That’s what they saw in Gilbert - due to his own “affinity for the Dark Side”. “So you want me to sway him from that?”

“You have been able to resist the temptation of the Dark Side unusually well, even when you were near completion to your apprenticeship under the Sith, Gilbert. You are the only one who can turn him away and form him into a model Jedi. You must do anything in your power to keep him from turning to the Dark Side.”

Gilbert hadn’t told them what they already knew - that he was hardly a ‘model Jedi’ himself, and his “resisting the Dark Side” was sometimes interrupted with flirting and secret affairs with it.

And when he saw him for the first time - fierce green eyes, a stern expression, an anxious composure, Gilbert had done his best to be stern and diplomatic.

“I will be your master,” he had said. “You are my apprentice. I will teach you the ways of the Force.” He saw Arthur’s eyes light up in eager anticipation, and Gilbert swallowed hard.

“You will learn the Light Side of the Force.” When he saw that enthusiasm falter - just a little bit, just enough for someone with keen vision to notice - was when Gilbert knew that he had a long, and difficult road ahead of him.

Transformed from the fierce, anxious young man who had greeted him ten years ago, into the confident, relaxed demeanour of a Sith Lord who sat at Gilbert’s bar (spoiler: Gilbert’s attempt to ‘reform’ Arthur had, in fact, been an abysmal failure to be explored later), watching him calmly, calculating his next moves. “How long have you known I was here?” he asked.

“Since you walked in,” Gilbert replied. After a moment of hesitation, he began to pour the man a drink. “You reek.”

Arthur seemed to revel in it. “My last reports indicated that Gilbert Beilschmidt, Jedi Master, was declared dead in battle.” He accepted the drink with a nod of thanks as Gilbert slid him a glass. “It is awfully bold of you to place yourself here, in the midst of Sith territory, and it takes an enormous amount of power to hide it all for as long as you have been.”

“It was not Sith territory when I came here,” Gilbert replied with a deep frown, now busying himself with checking his bar stock of drinks. “The reports stated I was dead, but I know the Force has told you differently.”

Arthur paused, taking a drink but keeping his eyes on his ‘host’. “So you let us invade without lifting a finger to stop it.” He put the drink down with a heavy thud. “Was I the reason you left?”

Gilbert’s hands stilled on a bottle of syrup, his back turned to the other man. “...No,” he responded at last, but it did not have a certain level of conviction to it. “After being routinely passed over for missions, promotions, and clearances, it became clear to me that the Council had no faith in me, and so I lost my faith in them. So I left.” He shrugged.

There was silence for a long time as Arthur drank and Gilbert cleaned, the only sound from the quiet commands from Gilbert to his droids. “And now you’re a bartender,” Arthur finally said.

The other walked over and put both hands on the bar in front of him, eyeing Arthur down. “And you’re a Sith Lord with a high enough body count to make me blush,” he replied in an unimpressed tone. “Funny, how times change.”

“You seem hardly impressed with how far I’ve come,” Arthur drawled. “Are you disappointed in what happened?”

What happened was something that would haunt Gilbert for years. Well - not necessarily haunt, because Gilbert himself did not seem to mind what happened, but everyone else did.

He had let Arthur go.

“You must do anything in your power,” he had been told. Gilbert had taken those instructions very liberally. Arthur had been fascinated by Gilbert, in all the wrong places. Fascinated with his past, his Sith origins. Fascinated with his red lightsaber. Fascinated with Gilbert’s ability to walk that line between Light and Dark, never quite falling to one side or another. Fascinated with Gilbert’s interpretation of the Jedi Code, and how Gilbert used those interpretations to manipulate it. Fascinated with him.

Gilbert, in turn, had become fascinated with Arthur, in all the wrong places. Fascinated with his past, with his decidedly not-Sith origins. Fascinated with Arthur’s fascination with his red lightsaber. Fascinated with his ability to some close, so close to the Dark Side, but never quite fall into temptation.

“You’re the only thing keeping me on this path,” Arthur had said to him once, and that was when Gilbert realised that this was a failed endeavour. But they tried, oh did they try. They tried lots of different things. Meditation, training, battles, mind games, coaching - oh, and sex. They tried a lot of sex. And, of all those things, the sex was arguably the most effective.

So Gilbert, simply tired of fighting a steadily losing battle with a Jedi who slipped further and further away from him, let him go. It was only a year after his graduation from Padawan to Jedi Knight did Gilbert formally (well, as formally as could be done in the early morning after a very emotionally-charged night) relinquished Arthur of his duties as a Jedi, and sent him on his way.

“Am I disappointed?” Gilbert reiterated, contemplating. “No,” he finally said. “Are you happy, where you are?”

Slowly, Arthur laughed. “One isn’t necessarily happy in the ranks of the Sith. But, in that sense, yes.” He finished his drink and the glass shifted forward towards Gilbert, who resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he took it and began to pour another. “Interesting how times change, indeed. You were a Sith, who became a Jedi, who became a civilian. I was a civilian, who became a Jedi, who became a Sith.”

“I got tired,” Gilbert explained as he poured the glass. “Tired of the looks from others, and tired of only seeing you on a battlefield on the opposite lines. And tired of…” he hesitated with the last words. “Tired of feeling my connection with you, through the Force, knowing there was an incomprehensible amount of distance between us that could never be shrunk. So, I left. So I would stop being bothered by it, and I could busy myself with other things, and drown it away.”

Arthur accepted his glass back when he opened his hand and it slid into his palm. “Drown it away?”

It was Gilbert’s turn to pour himself a drink. Straight liquor. “I still love you,” he replied blankly, quickly replacing the words on his tongue with the alcohol.

“That surprises me,” Arthur said, a genuine look on his face to match his words. “So much time has passed.”

The man simply shrugged, already half his drink gone. “Oh well, it is what it is.”

Arthur did not indicate one way or another his own feelings, and Gilbert did not expect him to. Part of him didn’t expect Arthur to necessarily even care about what Gilbert felt. Instead, Arthur sat in relative silence, finishing his drink while Gilbert finished his own, finished his chores at the bar, and powered down the droids.

When Arthur’s drink was finished, the glass rose into the air and gently placed itself in the sink as Gilbert observed silently. “You’ll see me again,” Arthur said as he stood up and patted the top of the bar. “Unless you get found, and conscripted. Then it’s doubtful.” He was smiling.

Gilbert rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll do my part to make sure that doesn’t happen - and you do yours.”

Arthur left, and Gilbert lingered in the bar a little while longer - he had one more drink for himself.

Several days passed, and Gilbert did not see any more of Arthur. It was business as usual. However, on the third day since his unexpected visitor, rumours began to circulate, and they made their way into the bar - “The Jedi are mobilising,” many of the local patrons were saying. “They are coming to liberate Nebulan.” They felt safe to speak such words, because that day there were no Sith to be found in the establishment. Most likely, if the rumours were found true, they were preparing for battle.

“Oh, wouldn’t that be something,” he’d say, serving them their drinks and cleaning up, just as every night. Gilbert remained calm and neutral as he discussed the matter. There was a buzz in the air from the patrons, however - he was tipped generously, and the energy was higher than it had been in a long time.

Gilbert went home that night. He lived in a very small home not far away from the bar, located in one of Nebulan’s largest cities. His own bar was just outside of a main shopping district, down a quiet street. His own home was even quieter.

He went inside, removed his boots, said hello to his home droid, K-6, and went to his bedroom. There, he stood for a long time, into his wardrobe that opened before him, and stared at the beige robes that hung up neatly inside. His old Jedi robes, that he had not worn in a long time.

The Jedi were coming. Gilbert had a choice - remain in the shadows as he was, and leave the fate of the planet up to others, or take charge, as he used to. Fight, as he did. He was one of the Jedi’s finest pilots and duelists. Gilbert had been strong, he had been brave. He knew this.

He stepped forward and reached into an inner cabinet of the wardrobe. He pulled out his lightsaber. He had not held it for a long time. Silver and black, with an elegant handle and inside, a synthetic red crystal. It was a lightsaber fit for a Sith, but it was Gilbert’s, one he had crafted from hand and loved very much, no matter his alignment.

He glanced up when someone was in his house. He did not move. He knew who it was.

“Are you jealous that someone might kill me before you do?” Arthur’s voice was light and teasing. He was leaning against the doorframe, Gilbert could see that without even turning around. Damn, he was so sure of himself.

“Hardly. If there’s one thing I don’t have to worry about, it’s you getting killed by some random Jedi you don’t approve of.”

“You’re not wrong,” said Arthur as he approached. Gilbert kept the lightsaber in his grasp, gripping it tightly as he felt Arthur’s hands slide up his back, to start at his shoulderblades, and move around to hug him loosely around Gilbert’s neck. Arthur’s cheek pressed against his own and it took every ounce of willpower for Gilbert not to lean into that. He took a deep breath instead and kept his gaze focused on the symbolic article of clothing, that probably stood as a metaphor for his past strength, or something like that.

“You’re the only one,” Arthur finished.

“I wasn’t aware that it was so easy to declare yourself immortal in that way,” Gilbert responded, weakly. Damn it, his resolve was crumbling. He leaned back into the other man - a little bit, just ever so slightly.

Arthur, meanwhile, was probably drinking it in. “What will you do?” he asked, as one hand reached up to thread through Gilbert’s hair with surprising grace. “Will you fight?”

Gilbert closed his eyes. If he put on those robes and returned as a Jedi when they arrived, it would be like nothing had changed. Arthur would still be a Sith, and Gilbert would still only ever see him when they faced in battle, only fleeting moments as they subtly defended each other’s life while furthering their own goals.

Wasn’t that sort of back-and-forth what Gilbert was tired of?

But wasn’t the justice of the galaxy, the thrill of the fight, and the ability to use his powers why he joined the Jedi to begin with? Why he turned away from the Dark Side, and why he continues, to this day, to resist its temptation?

Gilbert lowered the saber. His own subtle way of relinquishing control.

Arthur kissed his cheek and pulled away, his fingers lingering on Gilbert’s shoulder for just a moment longer than necessary. “I will keep you safe,” he promised.

As he stepped away, Gilbert turned to face him for the first time. Arthur was already turning on his heels to go, and Gilbert felt a bit cold. “Arthur,” he called after him.

The man stopped and turned, eyeing him carefully. “Yes?”

“Would you like a drink?”

The Sith smiled a slow, very knowing smile. Gilbert simply took a deep breath. Arthur knew what this meant. Gilbert knew what this meant.

Arthur was already beginning to shed his robes.

“I’d love that.”

A/N: So, I think that I will be continuing this, as I greatly enjoyed playing with it - but I may begin at a different time, perhaps “at the beginning” when Gilbert and Arthur first meet, and both of their origins are further explored. I’m still a bit unsure.

I hope it made sense and I hope that you enjoyed it! Any and all feedback would be lovely!

#pruk #prueng #engpru #aph prussia #aph england #aph memepan

25 notes · View notes