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wits-writing · 1 year

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We Just Got a Letter(boxd)!: Star Wars Sundays

Back at the start of this year (as in the literal first thing I did on New Years Day) I decided to start up a weekly rewatch of all the live action Star Wars movies in release order.

Called it my “Star Wars Sundays”

It was intended to be something I did just for fun and just for myself. The further I went along into the series I found myself with more to say as my enthusiasm for this universe hit in a way it hasn’t in a long time ago in a galaxy far far away. That enthusiasm came through in what I was writing as I logged each movie into my Letterboxd profile, giving insight into whatever stood out to me (for better or worse) with each film. Mainly in the form of whatever about the movie was most immediately on my mind after watching.

Do I think anything I had to say is a particularly hot take on Star Wars? Somehow bringing something new to the discussion of one of the most thoroughly discussed film series ever made?

Not really.

But even as what I was writing about this movies got more detailed as I went along, I never lost the sense of fun I was having.

So since it’s The Day the Internet Drives a Star Wars Pun Into the Ground, I figured I may as well compile everything I wrote about those movies over those eleven weeks in one place.

Let’s get this started

Star Wars (Watched: 1/1/2023)

Starting a weekly release order rewatch of these movies, my first full look back at them in a while.

There’s an argument to be made that this original is still the weirdest of all the movies in a wonderful way!

[Note from the present: If I’d known I’d be posting these all together here, probably would’ve had more to say about this one]

The Empire Strikes Back (Watched: 1/8/2023)

The willful denial of closure by making the followup to one of the greatest crowd-pleasers of all time a story where the bad guys win and the heroes are stuck with their backs to the wall set a precedent that all "darker sequels" since have been trying to emulate.

Though the imitators often miss how character focused everything leading up to the downer ending of this movie. All the big spectacle action here is front loaded into the battle on Hoth before the scope focuses down for the rest of the movie on Luke's training with Yoda and Leia/Han's romantic back and forth.

Return of the Jedi (Watched 1/15/2023)

As a kid this one was always my favorite and the parts that made it that still hold up; escaping Jabba's clutches, the speeder bike chase, Luke's final confrontation with Vader, and plenty others.

But you can feel this one stretching out at the seams in a way the previous two did not. The narrative momentum those movie's benefited from is conspicuously absent here until the story's final third. Plus the ways Lucas was exhausted from managing these massive productions at this point shows in certain story decisions, like the hasty retcon to turn Leia into Luke's sister as a way to pay off the "No, there is another" tease from Empire. Thus closing off the original outline for the sequel trilogy, which would've focused on Luke's non-Leia twin sister.

All that said, by the time this movie is over and everyone's celebrating their victory together I can't help but feel my spirits being lifted as a smile winds up on my face.

The Phantom Menace (Watched 1/22/2023)

To say a few nice things; when the storytelling in this movie is purely done through the visuals, it's actually pretty great. That's probably the reason the Duel of the Fates sequence is so fondly remembered, no bit of story telling is stronger in this movie than the body languages of Qui Gon, Obi Wan, and Maul while the three are trapped between force fields.

The thematic groundwork this lays out for the rest of the prequels is also fairly interesting. Presenting the pristine style of the systems under the Republic in contrast to an Outer Rim territory like Tatooine. Which also speak to the misplaced confidence the Republic has in its own operation with hints laid that this is more a Gilded Age than a golden one, with corruption and greed laying just below the surface.

The problem is that everything around those elements of the story and even some of those used to communicate it are so stiffly delivered. Either through the pacing or the delivery from the actors. Plus this movie sucks at communicating its stakes, we hear so much about how Naboo is suffering under the Trade Federation's occupation but are shown no evidence of it even once. We spend so much time among aristocrats, politicians, and Jedi that this movie forgets to consider portraying the common people in any form besides the occasional line here or there.

This was the Star Wars movie I always felt like revisiting the least when I was a kid. While there are ones I dislike more now (we'll get there in the coming weeks), this rewatch made me remember why that was.

Attack of the Clones (Watched: 1/29/2023)

There's definitely something to be said for how this movie chooses to be about the birth of the Galactic Empire. Obi-Wan's plot following the machinations and conspiracies that are literally manufacturing the armed forces for both sides of the upcoming Clone War drives our view into that aspect of the story. Genuinely love the way it culminates in Dooku flatout telling Kenobi what's happening with the Republic in the lead up to this war. Whether the Jedi believes him or not, it strikes a division between the Jedi Order and those they serve regardless.

Anakin's side of the story, on the other hand, has to rest a lot of its substance on George Lucas' (self-admitted) lackluster dialogue. Since the Prequels started with Anakin so young and innocent, this movie needs to sell us on Anakin both as a noble Jedi Apprentice in his own right and as someone on the edge of falling to the Dark Side. It winds up in a place where his journey to evil feel rushed and underdeveloped as it gets left off in this entry.

Revenge of the Sith (Watched: 2/5/2023)

The Prequel Trilogy's central trio of characters is clearly meant to be Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Padme. A big problem this movie has is that one member of that trio is given no agency or story to speak of for themselves. Padme's entire character gets reduced to "worried about Anakin" and her utility in the plot down to "gives birth to Luke and Leia." I can't argue with the fact that she gets the best line in the movie with "So this is how liberty dies... with thunderous applause." But one good line does not make up for every other misstep this movie makes with her.

Those problems with the part Padme plays in this movie are in line with the problems Revenge of the Sith has in its overall plotting. It's in a rush to get everything to where the audience remembers it being at the beginning of the 1977 original film. Which gets in the way of the good things this movie does have going for it.

I enjoy the opening 20 minute long set piece's role in this narrative as a last "just for fun" adventure for Anakin and Obi-Wan. It create the necessary dramatic contrast to how they end the movie on opposite sides. This movie is also dramatically playing on what I said about Attack of the Clones, the Republic was already the Galactic Empire in all but name by the time that movie ended. What we see here are simply the last steps Palpatine has to take to make sure there are no more obstacles in his way.

Purely from a broad plotting standpoint this is a perfectly tragic finale to a trilogy that was always building to tragedy. But the rush it's in to make sure that tragedy can happen within its runtime ends up failing several key elements that could've made this a stronger movie.

The Force Awakens (Watched: 2/12/2023)

I love how effectively this movie sets up its two leads in Rey and Finn. The first chunk of this movie dedicated to setting up each of them as fundamentally lost people, but in inverse ways.

Through the village massacre by the First Order that opens the movie and helping Poe escape, we see Finn realize he wants no place in the fascist idea of "order" he's been raised/trained in. He decides to start running and that brings him right into the path of the people that are going to start changing his life for the better, Poe and Rey.

While Finn's defined by how he's running from danger, Rey's established as someone determined to stay put despite dreaming of adventures like those in the legends she's heard. A character trait acutely visualized when she takes time out from eating her dinner to put on an old Rebellion pilot helmet as she watches starships leave Jakku. Coming across BB-8 puts her on a path that winds up crossing with Finn's and winds up forcing her out of her desolate situation as a scavenger gathering scraps of tech in exchange for scraps of food. Waiting for people that are never going to come back for her.

The journey this movie takes them on together culminates when they reunite. Finn chooses to run towards the First Order for the sake of his friend after spending the whole movie determined to run away. In doing that, he winds up proving to Rey that she now has people in her life that care enough to come back for her.

Rogue One (Watched: 2/19/2023)

(Note: I haven't watched Andor yet and fully intend to at some point)

I deeply wish this entire movie was as well executed as its final act.

Up until the mission on Scarif, Rogue One is fairly scattershot in terms of how it executes on the ideas it presents. A nature reflected in the narrative structure provided by the films editing. A problem that starts early on as we quickly jump from Jyn as a child in the prologue to her as an imprisoned adult for all of thirty seconds before jumping directly into Cassian's introduction. We don't get to know how Jyn is living with her current situation and only get told about it later when she meets with Saw Gerrera.

The majority of the titular squadron don't really get much breathing room for us to get to know them. Their personalities mostly communicated through quick inferences. Ones that all make me want to know and see more of them, but still simply inferences.

One character who is incredibly well developed that I've loved since the first time I saw this movie is Ben Mendelsohn as Imperial Director Orson Krennic. A figure who wields what limited power he has in the Galactic Empire's structure with great pride and takes it incredibly personal when that power doesn't grant him more reward than his superiors are willing to deal out (or even actively deny.) A perfect balancing act between menacing and pathetic.

Which brings us back to this movie's final act on Scarif, because Krennic's position within the Empire plays in parallel to the position of the rebel soldiers that make up the unit of Rogue One. While Krennic longs for recognition at any cost short of himself, Rogue One fight to make the Galaxy a better place even if they're never recognized for it. The ideological division, mixed with some of the best on screen action in a Star Wars film makes this movie's bittersweet conclusion strong enough to make up for the messy way the movie gets there.

The Last Jedi (Watched: 2/26/2023)

Despite the hell of modern Star Wars discourse, despite what followed in this trilogy, despite everything...

This is still my absolute favorite Star Wars movie!

A movie that says hope isn't just something to believe in, but something you can create for yourself and others

A movie that says it's never too late to learn from your failures and that those failures don't define you

A movie that says our place in the world and among those we love are not preordained but the product of our choices

A movie that to this day reminds me of why I fell in love with Star Wars to begin with!

I wish I could be more elaborate and articulate about this, but in the immediate aftermath of this rewatch, the fact that it still has the effect it did on me when I first saw it in the theater is overwhelming.

All coming down to the great action, fun characters, spectacular visuals, and the perfect final shot!

Solo (Watched: 3/5/2023)

I'll take this over a hundred deep-faked Luke Skywalkers!

Alden Ehrenreich plays a character I can believe grows into the smug scoundrel we all remember from the original trilogy. Trying to act like he's not flying by the seat of his pants at any given moment, improvising his way around every new dangerous scenario.

The action set pieces here are a nice, varied series of heists across the various parts of the criminal underworld of A Galaxy Far Far Away. My absolute favorite being the chaos that gets unleashed on Kessel.

Feel like some people never gave this one a fair shot, but I still find it a pretty damn delightful space adventure.

The Rise of Skywalker (Watched: 3/12/2023)

A large part of why this movie still rubs me the wrong way is that I can tell it is trying so hard to be a satisfying, high-energy, action-adventure that also brings some form of thematic closure to the "Skywalker Saga." (A term for the nine "Episode" movies in the film series that was invented for the sake of marketing this movie.)

But I would've been fine with a movie that just brought a satisfying conclusion to this trilogy as its own thing. The only story line that does feel like it's prioritizing the weight of this trilogy's themes in this movie is Poe's character arc, picking up right from where we left him in The Last Jedi. An arc that asks whether the spark of rebellion will in fact come through to light the fire that will burn the First Order to the ground.

Culminating in a moment that I should, in theory, absolutely love, where those ordinary people gather up to join the final battle and turn the tide in The Resistance's favor. All the while the villains are baffled that the ones out maneuvering them are "just people" rather than an organized fleet.

But I can't feel what that moment's going for because it gets buried in The Palpatine of It All, which drags everything this movie could've had going for it down. The presence of the classic Star Wars' biggest Big Bad winds up being the main thing to override what the previous movies in this trilogy built up, especially with Rey. Her arc in this movie requires her to push away the very bonds she spent the previous two movies building after a life in isolation, but it feels so... forced (for lack of a better term.) To the very last minute this movie doesn't actually seem to care about those bonds, because where we could've ended on the shot of Rey, Finn, and Poe hugging in relief in celebration, we instead tack on a lazy callback to A New Hope where Rey is back where we first found her, alone on a desert planet.

Going through these movies on a weekly basis throughout the year so far, I've tried to find stuff to like in each of them no matter what my preexisting opinions of them were. Even in the ones I don't necessarily like, I managed that. But with The Rise of Skywalker, even finding those things (I genuinely think the fight between Rey and Kylo on the Death Star wreckage is the most interestingly choreographed fight in this trilogy) didn't make up for what it lacks.

If you like what you’ve read here, please like/reblog or share elsewhere online, follow me on Twitter (@WC_WIT), and consider throwing some support my way at either Ko-Fi.com or Patreon.com at the extension “/witswriting”

#star wars #movie review #wit's writing #We Just Got a Letter(boxd)#a new hope #the empire strikes back #return of the jedi #the phantom menace #attack of the clones #revenge of the sith #the force awakens #rogue one #the last jedi #solo: a star wars story #the rise of skywalker

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pinkfey · 2 years

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okay i’m gonna talk owk criticism in the tags for a sec 😵‍💫

#i do think that they’re reusing plot devices that have worked well such as the grizzled old man + cute child dynamic #but to say there isn’t anything being said in the show? i do disagree with !!#getting insight into how obi wan lived in those years #how he struggled with such guilt and pain #and how his connection to leia formed #i value that a lot !!#plus just getting any sort of leia character development is such a breath of fresh air #it’s not that i personally enjoy the show because ‘wow look at these characters u love!! they sure are doing stuff !!!!’#it’s because i’m getting much desired insight !!#idk i think anyone who finds obi wan boring in the first place is going to think the show is boring so like 🙃 duh??#this was a lil pointless and ramble-y. i don’t mean to defend a fuckin starred wars show of all things ofc #and it does always deserve criticism !!#it’s just a different perspective from mine i suppose :-)#like no shit if you dislike obi wan you’re probably not going to like a show centered around obi wan’s grief #‘this show adds nothing to the characters’ to YOU !! not to me !!#i always love a dive into obi wan and anakin !! and if i’m being honest !!#i actually love leia a lot more now 🤷‍♀️ i feel like she lacked particularly loving writing in the originals #anyways.txt

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brachiosaurus-on · 3 years

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Y’all, I need help with writing Anakin. Anyone who has a deep understanding of Anakin’s character, or other writers, can you help me get into his head?

@gffa or @ilummoss I believe you’re the local experts on Anakin, maybe you have some insight?

I would be very grateful for any input, I’m a little stuck on this 🤔

I’m trying to write Obi-Wan & Anakin as best friends but stumbling over the fact that Anakin knows he’s lying to Obi-Wan about how he’s living his life. It’s easier from Obi-Wan’s perspective because he has no idea, but I’m trying to write from Anakin’s perspective and I’m just like... how does he rationalize this?

He and Obi-Wan are best friends, they trust each other in the field and they know how to make each other laugh and they work together seamlessly, two halves of one whole. But outside of the field, it seems different?

In the ROTS novelization Obi-Wan thinks that they’re completely honest with each other (specifically, that they don’t keep secrets), that they have a mutual understanding that they don’t talk about his relationship with Padmé even though Obi-Wan knows they’re in love. But Obi-Wan doesn’t know that they’re married, and Anakin is aware that they aren’t completely honest with each other. Anakin is... sort of living a double life. And I don’t remember him really confronting this in the ROTS novelization.

I mean, Anakin had to have known how much Obi-Wan loved the Order and how seriously he (& all the other Jedi) would have taken their vows. And even if Anakin himself didn't take them seriously, he would have known how sacred it was to the Order. How much trust they place in one another because they've all taken the same vows (and spent at least two decades training to understand those vows and what they meant and to be certain they wanted to make them before they actually took the vows). That’s how the Order has perpetuated itself for 25,000 years, one of the common threads through every generation. And he's just there knowing full well that he took the Order’s vows in conflict with his marriage vows. But he still demands that Obi-Wan & the Order place trust in him even though he's actively breaking their trust and he knows it. And what gets me is that they DO trust him because they don't know that he's broken their trust... except Anakin doesn’t think that they trust him, but for different reasons than the fact that he’s broken their trust?

I feel like he must not look at it that way, that he rationalizes it to himself somehow, but I’m struggling to figure out what exactly that rationalization is. Maybe he doesn’t think that he’s breaking that trust?

Ugh, I do love the depth of Anakin’s character and I want to do him justice, but writing is hard and he’s so difficult to understand sometimes.

#anakin skywalker #anakin why are you like this #how dare george lucas make such a complex and beautiful character #trying to get out of my 🤍jedi🤍 pov

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transmalewife · 3 years

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Alright, let's talk about attachment

I can’t find clear information on when exactly the non-attachment rule was added to the code. It was either soon before or soon after the great sith war. Either way, for the VAST majority of the existence of the Jedi, it wasn’t a thing. Jedi got married and had families for over 20000 years, then added the non-attachment rule, which ultimately led to their destruction. And before anyone tries to tell me I believe they deserved to be genocided, I don’t. I have never actually seen anyone say that, but I see people argue against it constantly, and imply anyone who doesn’t think the Jedi were perfect and blameless thinks that. I don’t think they deserved to die, I think they needed to change. And Yoda says that himself, many times. The Jedi weren’t prepared for the return of the sith, or the war. They had separated from the military 1000 years before, and the galaxy was in relative peace all this time, so the order’s role changed to one that worked very well with their rules. Detachment meant they could be impartial when overseeing political disagreements, lack of possessions meant they would be focused on the mission at hand and not prone to taking bribes, and distancing themselves from the general population meant they were more or less uniform, and could be trusted not to side with someone for personal reasons.

All of this falls apart once they become an army again. Impartiality is a flaw when they have to defend one side at all cost and not even allow themselves to consider compromise. Lack of possessions and attachment to people means they are prone to taking unnecessary risks, because they have nothing to lose, and do things like send 14 year olds into battle, thinking of the “greater good” over the safety of children. And the order being a monolith, with set rules and philosophy distinct from the rest of the population meant the Jedi trusted Dooku long after they should have stopped, because he used to be a Jedi after all, surely he still follows the code.

Now, I am not saying non-attachment is always bad, I think it served a very specific purpose in the order, and to some extent worked for many years. However.

Humans are a social species. Human babies NEED physical contact and affection to develop physically. Children need a stable, strong, and supportive relationship to their caregiver to properly develop psychologically. And after last year I don’t think anyone will argue that adults don't need connection with other people just as much. And not just shallow interactions, but open affection and love. Love of any kind, because claiming that the Jedi only forbid romantic love is just untrue. I think people tend to forget that "Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is essential to a Jedi's life. So you might say, that we are encouraged to love." isn’t the actual doctrine, it’s a literal pick up line that Anakin uses on Padme.

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan both get criticized by other Jedi for their entirely platonic attachment to Anakin, and vice versa. Now, humans are the most common species in the galaxy, and in the Jedi order. Many other species are near-human, so it’s safe to assume at least some, if not most of them also need that companionship and affection to develop and live happy and stable lives. I do believe that non-attachment is a valid philosophy and chosen path in life if done carefully and within reason, I just don’t think we have a single major character that actually applies to. And chosen is an important word here. Jedi don’t get much of a choice. I’m not trying to start the baby-stealing debate here. I hear the argument of ‘force sensitives are dangerous if left untrained, and said training should start as early as possible’. I think finding a way to deal with that problem was an insanely complicated decision, and taking children into the temple as young as possible is not a bad solution. I don’t entirely agree with not letting them see their families later, (especially since in legends Obi-Wan was allowed to visit his family, which implies Anakin couldn’t go free his mother specifically because he was already too attached), but the idea is sound. I do also understand that no one is forcing Jedi to stay in the order and they can leave for whatever reason at any time. But that isn’t exactly a free choice either. Leaving the order means leaving the only home you remember, the only people you know to make your own way in the galaxy, and staying with those people means you can never fully love them. It’s a difficult solution to a complicated question, and for the most part, it worked (not always, and not exactly as intended, but I’ll come back to that.) Children grew up in the order, were trained to control themselves and the force, and became Jedi who were impartial, patient, and balanced. But everything falls apart when you introduce someone who wasn’t raised in the temple.

In The Rising Force, 13 year old Obi-Wan had barely been off Coruscant in his life. He describes himself as sheltered and unaware of all the pain in the galaxy, and says it was done on purpose, so younglings wouldn’t have to face the dark side before they were ready for it. But Anakin had seen nothing but darkness, pain and injustice before he joined the order. He was severely traumatized, and while the temple might have had some ways of dealing with trauma and PTSD in adults, they had no experience in treating the same in a child, because their children were kept safe and protected. The idea of letting go of your pain and fear only works if you know you have a safe place to come back to, if you’ve spent the first decade or so of your life in the most protected place in the galaxy. Anakin spent the first decade of his life as a slave. He couldn’t let go of his fear, because fear was what kept him alive. Fear is not irrational if you are constantly in danger, it’s what protects you, keeps you aware of the limits you can push before you get punished. And that mindset doesn’t fade just because you’re out of that situation, especially if your only family, the closest person to you, is still facing that danger every day.

I’ve seen people use every excuse possible to explain why Anakin didn’t see his mother again to avoid blaming the council, including, and I shit you not, “He just didn’t have her comm number”. But to me that seems disingenuous, when we see in his first meeting with the council that they already consider him too attached. It's one of the main reasons they don’t want him to be trained, so it seems logical that they wouldn’t allow him to see her once he became a padawan. I also want to mention that what Yoda says, “Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.” Is just… blatant catastrophizing. Right? Like we can all see that the escalation is not rational there at all. Maybe it could apply to something else, but not to a child who just left his mother for the first time in his life and went from a tiny dustball in the middle of nowhere to the most populated planet in the galaxy, and is now being tested by a bunch of old people with the power to decide his future. Obviously he’s afraid, and obviously he’s not dealing with it the way Jedi younglings do. That, in and of itself doesn't doom him to fall. Also what Yoda misses there is that suffering leads to fear. This is a closed loop, and one that has defined Anakin’s entire childhood.

Let’s come back to how the system doesn’t always work. The way I see it, most of the characters we see are attached. Obi-Wan is considered one of the greatest Jedi of his time. Windu describes him as “our most cunning and insightful Master—and our most tenacious”. And yet, he was not insightful enough to look past his love for Anakin, his attachment, and see how close to falling he was. Ahsoka was so attached to Anakin she refused to listen to Maul on Mandalore, refused to even consider the posibility he could fall. She was arguably the person with the best shot at preventing the empire forming at that point, and she loved anakin so much she doomed him and the entire galaxy. Aayla admitted to thinking of Quinlan as her father, and also, apparently in legends had a long relationship with Kit. Even Mace didn’t follow the code when he decided to kill Palpatine, which directly led to his death and the empire. He also indirectly caused the war to start. According to wookiepedia “Windu viewed Dooku as the shatterpoint of the entire Separatist movement, which meant striking Dooku down would theoretically end the imminent clone war before it even began. However, Windu's prior attachments to Dooku clouded his judgment.” I’m not even going to mention Kanan and Ezra, who are obviously family.

So basically everyone is attached and lying about it. How has no one thought that maybe this isn’t the healthiest way to live and tried to change the code? Well, I have a theory, and it’s Yoda. He was 900 years old when he died, and was on the council for the vast majority of his life. I can’t find when exactly he became grand master, but it’s safe to assume he held some degree of power over the entire order for most of a millennium. At the end of TPM he tells Obi-Wan “Confer on you the level of Jedi knight, the council does. But agree with your taking this boy as your padawan learner, I do not.” Then he reverses that decision by himself. So either he has the power to veto the council’s word, or who gets trained is entirely up to him. Either way, not great, considering his lifespan is so much longer than most Jedi, and therefore his approach to life is vastly different. Humans need love and closeness to live. However, while we don’t know much about Yoda’s species, it probably isn’t a social one. You could count all the characters of this species on two (human) hands, and Yoda lived in complete isolation for 20 years on Dagobah, and only went a little bit insane. They are naturally rare, and therefore probably lead solitary lives in nature. Moreover, Yoda outlived every master who trained him, and almost every padawan he trained himself, (there’s a great post about that here) so even if he wasn’t naturally predisposed to non-attachment, he would have had to learn it to deal with all the loss he had to live through over the years.

A lot of people think that Anakin fell because he had attachments, which is not true. He fell because of how his attachments played out and/or ended. The most obvious example being Palpatine, who used Anakin’s trust and friendship to groom him for over a decade and actively undermine Anakin’s trust towards anyone else, especially the order. (more on that here). Obi-Wan refused to take on the role of a father figure that Anakin tried to shove him into, so he turned to someone who did accept it. It’s not Anakin’s fault that it turned out to be the worst person alive, nor can we expect him to notice when he’s known Palpatine since he was a child. Another failure of jedi non-attachment, because a loving parent or guardian would not let their child be used as a bargaining chip when the most powerful politician in the galaxy blackmailed the order into allowing him to meet Anakin regularly, but a distant teacher and detached knight thinking of the greater good might. The other attachments Anakin had were taken from him (Shmi and Ahsoka, the last orchestrated by Palpatine who was fully ready to give her the death penalty to make Anakin more unstable), or he was forced to lie and hide them, compromising his vows as a Jedi (Padme) or refused to choose Anakin over the order/their principles (Obi-Wan, and again Ahsoka, and to some extent Padme, but he’d already fallen then). All these people had every right to make the choices they made, but it wasn’t the act of loving them that made Anakin turn to the dark side, it was how those attachments played out.

I think everyone agrees that Yoda is as detached as a Jedi should, if not can, be, and that didn’t prevent Dooku from falling. We see that explored in more detail with Barriss and Luminara. Luminara is detached and distant, she’s fond of Barriss, but their relationship is not familial in the slightest, and she repeatedly shows her willingness to put the greater good and the mission before Barriss’ safety and even life. And yet Barriss still falls. A complex combination of events and choices caused each of those characters to fall, not the simple presence or absence of attachment.

And lastly, just as attachment can make you unstable if your relationship with that person is unstable, it can also make you stronger. There is a reason Anakin and Obi-Wan were the face of the army. Not only did their obvious attachment (the strongest between two jedi we are shown) make them more relatable to the public, but they, when working as a team, are shown repeatedly to be more or less undefeatable. They spend half of aotc flinging themselves off great heights because they know the other will be there to catch them. They know from years of experience that they have backup and they know each other well enough (or force bond communicate) that they can trust the other will be where he needs to be to help/save them. Contrast that to how Windu and Palpatine fight in rots once the window breaks- very carefully, clearly holding back to keep themselves safe. Neither of them has backup until Anakin arrives, but until the last second they can't be sure which one he will choose. Anakin and Obi-Wan fight the same way on Mustafar, especially when balancing on that thin bridge. No acrobatics, swinging arms to keep balance, keeping their distance, being almost uncharacteristically careful compared to how they treated heights in aotc, in tcw, and on the invisible hand in rots, because they both know the other won't catch them if they fall this time.

#star wars meta #attachment #star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #yoda #jedi order #mine

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years

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Suicidal Misunderstanding X

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII - - - - - Part IX

“I realize this is incredibly difficult,” the Nautolan Soul Healer said calmly. “But in order for us to help Obi-Wan, we need to determine the cause of his current disconnection with reality. Based on the drug panel, and convenient surveillance, we have, to the best of our ability, ruled out temporary psychosis brought on by a drug interaction.”

Cody stiffened further, not sure how to react to anything anymore. When a brother tried to end his own life, it was usually obvious why.

Sife Aerdo continued on. “There have, of course, been cases of Jedi Seers giveing into their fears of the future, or losing their sense of reality, but every case study involving such an extreme reaction was the result a gradual degradation over the course of many years. Nevertheless, it seems clear that Obi-Wan experienced a vision, and it may have impacted his breakdown to some extent. The more we know, the more successful any attempts to convince him of reality will be.”

Bant furrowed her brow in thought, trying to replay three decades of increasingly vague discussions of nightmares.

”Considering the high profile nature of his position, we cannot rule out some kind of psychological attack, perhaps even a darksider incursion.

Anakin leaned forward intently, the inside of his skull buzzing with white noise.

"All that being said, we must be prepared to treat Obi-Wan’s self harm as the culmination of a long and quiet mental health struggle. He would not be the first in the Order to disguise such a thing with durasteel self-discipline.”

At that, Bant and Mace took a moment to release their feelings to the force, while Anakin raised his shields defensively.

Master Aerdo finally hesitated, before continuing in the same smooth tone. “I would ordinarily prefer to structure this kind of conversation quite differently- allow Obi-Wan time to share his feelings first and invite you each separately to support him in the healing process. But he’s gone from fighting sedatives and force compulsions as though the fate of the galaxy depended on it, to a self-induced coma. All while barely lucid, yet still somehow maintaining Master Class mental shielding. We need to get a better understanding of his mental landscape if we’re going to even begin the process of treatment."

It is necessary to note that everyone in that room had led, in one way or another, a somewhat miserable life. This was the main reason none of them could claim that the next five hours were the worst they had ever experienced.

“But he’s always had terrible sleeping habits.” Anakin said hoarsely.

“Yes, but I think they got worse after Qui-Gon passed,” Bant argued, not sure what point she was making.

“When I pointed out he couldn’t be getting more than three hours a night he told me that he could manage on meditation” Cody offered irritably.

“That’s technically true,” Mace confirmed. “If the Master in question is well-balanced otherwise”

“So its like his eating habits, crushing responsibilities, and repeated exposure to violence, then? Completely fine for a Jedi, in less it’s not, in which case it’s a major red flag?”

“I think it would help to establish a timeline.“

Aerdo actually dredged up old mission reports, leading to the group reluctantly contacting Ashoka for her memories of Mortis.

At her Master’s insistence, she told them everything she remembered, hazy as it was, nervously elaborating on her own memories of falling. To her confusion, Master Windu all but brushed past that, assuring her that the important thing with stepping into darkness was the choice to the return to the light. Anakin bizarrely agreed with Windu. Out loud. Unnerved by the cooperation more than anything, she put her holographic foot down and demanded to know what was going on.

Anakin took the comm-link into a separate room to speak privately.

Upon return, he informed the group (with a visibly red and puffy face) that Kit would be escorting her back from Mount Cala cleanup early, daring anyone to disagree. Windu nodded and the conversation continued on.

Together they rewatched holo-footage of Obi-Wan laughing amongst Ghost company the night before last, and debated reports from psychometric investigators who had scoured the cantina as well as Obi-Wan’s personal quarters for traces of illicit substances. Between that and another drug panel, they were finally forced to conclude that despite the timing, the alcohol at most confused Obi-Wan’s perception of a vision, or possibly simply loosened his tongue.

Bant prodded Cody to repeat every word from the holocar ride to the temple, taking furious notes. Cody was unable to stop the heat that crawled up his face.

Just when the looming horror of Obi-Wan actually preparing to intentionally die started to break over Anakin, Windu interjected.

“You don’t see what I do,” the Harun Kal said grimly. “Something galaxy-sized shattered around Obi-Wan and he didn’t break from it. The closest comparison I have is Master Yaddle’s presence when she meditated on her confinement. He’s chosen to keep going, even when, quite frankly, death would be a release. We’re missing something fundamental.”

“He said there were ‘other dark forces at work.’ Even if the fight was objectively hopeless... there’s no way he would choose to die because of it!” Anakin agreed vehemently, shaking off morbid fears.

“But he did choose to die.” Cody said quietly. And the wind went out of Anakin’s sails.

“Lets go back.”

Anakin gritted his teeth as they picked apart everything ‘unusual’ Obi-Wan had said and done leading up to his visit with Bant.

“What exactly did he...”

“So Plo Koon was able to get a read through his shields?”

“Did he have anything to eat?”

“How did that compare to...”

“When he's mentioned things in the future...did it seem good or bad to you?” Bant asked.

“Bad.” Cody and Anakin said in unison. Remembering the trip to the temple Cody spoke again, “Definitely bad.”

“Right. When we were talking he sometimes used the wrong tenses for things, people. I confronted him on not knowing ‘when’ he was after Knight Skywalker left. He told me that he knew what was real, but he was “enjoying not fully living in the moment” he also said that he intended to “wake up”

“Enjoying? That’s the exact word he used?” Cody asked incredulous.

“He did seem...mostly happy yesterday. Giddy, at points.” Anakin said, slumping in on himself.

Bant looked at her notes once more before addressing the group.

“This isn’t vision psychosis in any manner I’ve heard of before...but I think I might have a theory. He used to have intense visions when we were kids; plenty of us did sometimes, but Obi-Wan would be unable to sleep after. What terrified him more than anything was the uncertainty that he might make the wrong choice- even when the vision was about something good, or neutral. His visions gradually stopped coming around puberty. We just had a conversation about this a few months ago- how relieved he was to only have to manage flashes of precognition. If he had a random, horrifying vision of a terrible future...suicide wouldn’t be his reaction. It’s too final.”

“Even if he blamed himself for what he saw coming?” Mace asked.

“Especially if he blamed himself.” Bant said.

“What’s your theory?” Aerdo prodded.

“What if...what if he was telling the truth when he said he could separate out what was real and what was not? What if there was no distortion or blurring between now and then? What if he was just wrong about which was which?”

“That...would be a very extreme and abnormal manifestation of force-induced psychosis. He has training in distinguishing reality from visions. The continued presence of his mental shielding means that the fabric of his mind can’t be so horrifically collapsed in on itself.”

“What if the vision was actually that realistic?” Bant said, pushing back against the soul healer. “So detailed and vivid that it effectively was a reality in itself, and everything else, all of us...”

“Were just memories” Anakin finished. “It would...actually explain pretty much everything. You said he wanted to wake up and when...when I found him.” He stopped, swallowing. “When I found him, he argued with me...what if he wasn’t trying to hurt himself? If you’re right...that would mean I found him trying to get back to reality.”

“It could explain his behavior in the halls...his desperation to wake...” Sife mused “But it runs counter to every other experience I’ve had with those managing prophetic visions. Master Windu, could that explain the shatterpoints you saw?”

“I’m not certain. It would have to have been extraordinarily real to create the echos of Shattering I witnessed. I don’t know if that depth of vision has occurred before, but then again, many things are possible in the force.”

“You really think he might have been...trying to wake up from dream? By killing himself?!” Cody asked incredulous.

“If that ends up being what happened I am going to give him such shit. That is the worst way to end a vision.” Anakin replied.

“Yes. It is.” Bant said pointedly. “That’s why it’s a last resort, after every other attempt to wake fails.”

They all sat in silence, processing various implications. Cody was unnerved by another terrifying insight into force powers, as well as the idea that the General might vividly remember Cody being inexplicably mind-controlled into trying to kill him. Anakin was trying to understand what this would mean for them, and the conversations he had thought they had had. Did...any of it count, if he thought he was offering it to a hallucination?

“Alright, this is a valuable working idea, but let’s make sure to examine everything with an open mind before we draw any more conclusions. Anakin, what happened after you left the healers office?”

Obi-Wan’s critique of the practicalities of visiting a soul healer could be and was interpreted multiple ways. The incongruity of peacekeepers in war sparked a rehash of earlier discussion. More apologies. Self identifying as ‘crazy’ inspired new debate, especially in the context of the new theory.

“When I saw him enter the fountain room I assumed he had had a brutal run-in with dark force user.” Windu explained. “Based on everything we’ve gone over, I don’t understand when...but some of the more insidious sith compulsions work by taking whatever small anger or hurt you feel and magnifying them until they consume you. If Obi-Wan was already experiencing self loathing...”

Cody sucked in a breath. “Then a Sith mind suggestion would bring him to commit suicide. It...sounds like something he might do, if he was partially in control. Take the blow rather than let himself be used as a weapon against anyone else, even his worst enemy.”

“Hells, it could have been an even vaguer compulsion, driving him to attack the person he hates the most,” Bant added darkly.

Anakin buried his head in his hands, trying to hold it together. He couldn’t afford to lose control or get angry. Hells, getting angry at Obi-Wan for ‘failing him’ when in pain could be the reason Obi-Wan was currently in the healing halls. The man said he loved him unconditionally, then practically had a breakdown over how much Anakin pushed that unconditional love to the breaking point, then killed himself. How was he supposed to-

“Anakin? Are you alright to continue?” someone said.

“Yes. No. There’s more I have to tell you...I don’t know if it will help but - it was hurting Obi-Wan...I...”

“Let’s just take it one step at a time. What happened after you left Mace?”

Apparently even Cody somehow knew more about Bruck Chun than Anakin. Master Windu and Eerin told different sides of the same sad story, which spiraled back into a conversation about Obi-Wan’s inadequacy issues, which somehow devolved into a long rant about Qui-Gon Jinn that Master Windu had apparently been holding back for years.

“My apologies.” He said afterwards, clearing his throat as the group stared, taken aback. “Old grievances. Go on Anakin, what did happened after you got to the ‘secret spot.’”

“He...was skirting around whatever was bothering him...I pushed him...told him I wanted to help...he said I couldn’t...because it was me...because of what I...”

Anakin stood up suddenly, feeling the walls of the room closing in.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I-”

He ran out.

He turned around almost immediately, pacing in the small corridor, knowing he couldn’t leave, simply needing a minute to catch his breath.

Master Windu followed him out after a moment, not saying anything, just standing there. Watching him.

“What!” Anakin finally snapped. “What do you have to say that I don’t know already!”

“Knight Skywalker-”

“Don’t call me that! I DON’T DESERVE-”

Anakin let out a frustrated snarl, punching a wall. The crumble of stone beneath this fist briefly made him feel better, but then he remembered Obi-Wan’s heartbroken expression in the light of an underworldly glow, and the tiny, choked sound he heard when the healers moved him and Anakin just...collapsed, falling to his knees.

Master Windu sank down gracefully beside him.

“Anakin. This isn’t about attachment issues, is it.”

“Not really, no. I mean, maybe you’ll blame attachment but it’s more about...”

“Anger.”

Anakin looked up at that, trying to regain the meditative calm he had felt for a glimmering moment yesterday, right in-between making peace in the cave and everything burning to ash.

“You know that I have had my own struggles with anger. It is how and why I came to develop Vaapad.”

“Yes, but you’ve Mastered your anger. And you’ve never...never given in to hate.”

A beat passed and Windu watched some of Skywalker’s familiar breaking points flicker into view.

“You’ve done something. Something you know the Jedi won’t forgive.”

“Obi-Wan forgave me.” Anakin said, whispering. “He said that even though I couldn’t fix what I did he loved me anyway and I just needed to...to honestly regret what I did and not do it again. I told him I’d get rid of my lightsaber and I meant it and...I thought he forgave me. I was ready to go to the Council with him, come clean about everything. And then I left him alone to get dinner and when I came back...he was holding my lightsaber. My lightsaber.”

Anakin buried his face in his hands, shuddering with creeping cold.

“I’m not going to critique your and Obi-Wan’s attachment to each other right now. I’m well aware that much of the order has turned to personal ties to maintain their stability given the ongoing horrors of war. I am, for many reasons, wary of the risks this brings us, yet it is also true that risks do not automatically mean failure. I myself have mastered my emotions in a different manner than conventional wisdom councils.”

Windu spoke carefully. For all that he and Anakin had similar relationships with the force, they rarely saw eye to eye on any given subject. At a certain point, Mace had accepted that the volatile young man was determined to find the worst possible interpretation for anything he said. And Mace was not the order’s most patient diplomat.

“As for your crime, whatever it is, l will tell you this: Unless you choose to renounce the code and leave our number, you will be treated as a Jedi Knight, subject to our protections, as well as our judgement. You will receive appropriate mental counseling. If you are judged to be a danger to those around you, your actions will be curtailed and monitored, possibly through temporary confinement. The Jedi do not believe in punitive measures for their own sake, but you may be required to provide restitution to those you harmed, perhaps indefinitely.

Silence hung perilously between them. Windu watched a tremor run through the unfathomable kaleidoscopic of shatterpoints that had orbited Skywalker since he was a boy. A small one broke inward, and an attached tangle of larger, darker ones fell away, crumbling to dust. The rest faded from view, invisible for the moment. A choice had been made, some decision that closed off at least one path to the darkside.

“There’s no one to make restitutions to.”

“...You’re going to have to elaborate on that.”

“Let’s go back inside- I don’t want to do this twice.”

They returned to the increasingly hated meeting room.

Anakin spoke in an outpouring of words about love and hate, about misplaced revenge and now uncertain forgiveness. When he finally finished, the room was deathly silent.

The three Jedi sat quietly while Cody pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess this is why Jedi have the no attachment rule, huh? I admit I never really got it, but I suppose even if I-”

Bant abruptly lunged up, fumbling to bring her lightsaber to Anakin’s neck. Everyone jumped to their feet, except for Anakin, who stared at Bant with a wretched expression.

“MASTER EERIN! This is not-”

“Did you do it?” she asked, ignoring the Master of the Order.

“Bant!”

“It was my first thought after I saw him. We all rushed in expecting a fight, or a bomb, only to find you, insane, and him with a hole next to his heart. I didn’t want to believe it of course, but you’ve always had a violent streak that Obi-Wan, force help him, couldn’t quite soothe away. A fight gone wrong. Master Windu said it was suicide, and I believed him, and I’ve been trying to make sense of that ever since. But Mace found you after, didn’t he? After you felt guilty? Did you think he was going to turn on you?”

“Bant Eerin, you are dangerously-”

“No.” Anakin whispered.

“Obviously I might be why. But I didn’t- I couldn’t. I know I’m not good but I can’t even imagine- holding a saber against him like that. Kriff, do you not get how much I can’t handle losing people I love? I was insane when you saw me because I saw someone trying to kill Obi-Wan and I couldn’t even fight them.”

Bant held his gaze for several lingering seconds, deactivated her saber and dropping it with a clatter. They stared at each other, breathing heavily and not blinking. She returned to her seat, moving jerkily. “I apologize Knight Skywalker. That was uncalled for.”

“I wish I could say I wouldn’t have done the same thing in your shoes” he responded lowly. Bant made a tiny, unintelligible noise in reply.

Cody collapsed back into his chair, holstering his blaster. “Alright then...so after you finished sitting in the fountain room...what happened next?”

Everyone stared at him.

“What?”

“You’re handling Anakin’s confession somewhat dispassionately. We’re simply surprised.” Mace said slowly, returning to his seat at the same time as Master Aerdo fell into theirs.

Cody shifted uncomfortably. “The vod were trained in a wide range of enemy suppression tactics. While we’re extremely glad the Jedi have never asked us to employ them, I’m not...unfamiliar with this scale of deliberate slaughter. At least in the hypothetical, sir.”

“I see.” Aerdo said. “That is a valuable insight to have, thank you. Knight Skywalker-”

“Just...call me Anakin. Or Skywalker.”

“Anakin. When did this happen?”

“About two years ago, immediately before the First Battle of Geonosis.”

“And have you had any similar experiences with giving into the darkside since?” they asked placidly.

“I don’t think so but...we went to war the next day and....I don’t know if I’ve stopped fighting since it- since I did what I did.”

“Hmm. Anakin, would you mind stepping outside the room and waiting in the corridor for a moment please?”

He bit his tongue, tasting blood, and quietly walked out the door while the Masters decided his fate. He leaned back against a wall, desperately wanting to see Padme.

To his surprise, the door opened barely a few minutes later, and he was politely invited back in.

“Anakin.” Master Windu spoke. “Thank you for telling us this. It’s an important insight into Obi-Wan’s feelings right now, and I recognize that you could have kept it a secret. As Head of the Order, and with the advice of a Senior Soul Healer, I have made a decision. You will be assigned a personal soul healer, who you will start seeing tomorrow. Commander Cody pointed out that over nearly two years of continuous warfare, you have maintained some of the the lowest trooper casualty units of any division, by a significant margin if we evaluate based on mission risk level. Your civilian and enemy casualties will be reviewed, but even considering constant war, since your massacre of the Tuskens, you have clearly managed to at least... direct your violence away from the innocent. We do not consider you a threat to the inhabitants of the world. For the time being, I see no real benefit to limiting or tracking your behavior within the temple or on planet, but you are barred from leaving orbit. I have decided to delay a full reckoning before the council until such time that your former Master is well enough to provide his own opinion. Give me just cause, and I will have you confined to a force-suppressing cell. Do you understand?”

Anakin nodded, bowing in acknowledgment. All things considered, it was...honestly better than he expected.

“Now, as Cody” Windu paused. “My apologies, as the Commander was saying-”

“Cody’s fine, sir” Cody said, wrung out in a way different from anything Kamino had trained him for.

“...I think we can all consider ourselves on a first name basis at this point.” Bant said with a snort. She paused. “That includes you Anakin. I really don’t know how to handle what you did but kark it, I don’t want to hate you. For myself.”

Everyone nodded.

“As Cody was saying, what happened next?”

Peace. Comfort. Hunger. A warning in the force...

“I tried to pull the saber back but his finger was already on the igniter...”

“You probably saved his life. Even a second later-”

“I know, that’s almost the worst part.”

“-his neck”

“Why would he change weapons?”

“What if-”

“He said what to you and Healer Che?”

“That has to support the detailed vision idea, think about-”

“I’m sorry, Emperor?”

“I think we’re done.”

Anakin stared blankly at Sife. “But we didn’t figure anything out.”

“Not conclusively, but we’re unlikely to make any more progress, you’ve given me enough information to preform a meaningful meditative scan, or guide a conversation, should Obi-Wan wake, or navigate through his mind, should we decide to make a more decisive attempt at his shields.”

“Master Aerdo... I leave the final judgement up to you, but I strongly urge you to make a more decisive attempt. I am more convinced now than I was...” Mace glanced at the chronometer “five hours ago that this was motivated by a specific, external stimuli, likely dark. Do you disagree?”

“No.” they said with a sigh. “But I don’t want to underestimate how much underlying factors might have contributed to his response to stimuli, including underlying factors that none of you were aware of.”

The Nautolan Soul Healer stood up, tucking their hands into their sleeves to address the room with classical Jedi serenity. It was a little irritating.

“In any case, we all need to sleep, eat, and meditate. Master Eerin, you have the rest of the day off, I've cleared it with Master Che already. Master Windu, I leave the final judgement up to you, and I am aware that your duties as Master of the Order are unceasing, but I urge you to take some time to center yourself before returning to the council. Commander Cody, I would be more than willing to arrange soul healing for you or any of the Vod, please let me know. Anakin, you will receive a comm later today with further details on your future healing sessions.

They bowed low, then glided out the door.

Bant stood next, bowed individually to each soul, and sped walked out.

Commander Cody cleared his throat awkwardly, “Mace- what should I tell the troops? We’re supposed to have command briefings later tonight.”

“If anyone asks about General Kenobi, tell them its classified.” I’ll schedule a briefing on the subject. Now go find Captain Rex and take care of yourself, that’s an order.”

Cody saluted, first to the high General, then to Anakin.

Finally it was just Mace and Anakin.

“Is there anyone who you trust who I can call to stay with you.” Master Windu asked.

“I can manage on my own” Anakin replied, not willing to give the Master of the Order anything else he could use against him, even after everything.

Master Windu held back a sigh.

He continued once more, making a deliberate attempt to soften his tone. “Anakin- I know we’ve had our differences, but this is not a trick, nor a trap. You’ve suffered a series of great shocks in the last 24 hours and handled them with immense maturity. I myself am struggling to deal with the emotional fallout.”

Anakin looked up at that, surprised. He didn’t seem to be struggling, but maybe that was what made him a good Jedi Master...

“As I told you before, I am not going to begrudge you the comfort of attachment. I’m rather convinced it would do you more harm than good at this point. I don’t want you flying right now, and you don’t have to be alone. I hope we have come to a better understanding today, but I doubt my presence is suddenly a comfort, though please correct me if I’m wrong. Now is there someone I can call?”

Padme ended her call with Master Windu extremely discomfited. She had barely heard from Anakin since he ran out on her the night before last to take care of an apparently extremely drunk Obi-Wan. He had messaged her a few times that night, promising to make it up to her, but had been comm-silent since. She had been starting to get worried, and now the Master of the Order was asking her to pick him up from the temple. Fortunately, she had already cleared most of her meetings for the week well in advance (Courascant leave usually meant THEM time, not that she was jealous of Obi-Wan, of course).

The speeder ride back from the temple was silent. All Anakin would say was that he would explain everything once they were in ‘a secure location.’

The door to the apartment had scarcely closed behind them when Anakin fell into her arms, shaking.

“Anakin, talk to me love, what’s wrong?” She gently guided him to the couch, arranging him so she could hold him protectively.

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

She let out a harsh gasp, “No! He can’t have, he would never-”

“I got to him in time, but Padme... he was holding a lightsaber to his heart. It was...really close” He burrowed deeper into the folds of her dress, and she gripped him fiercely.

“Oh gods, is he-”

“He’s physically healing, but he’s still...not all there. I spent all of today locked in a room, trying to figure out if it was a Sith Attack, or an insane vision, or..or me”

“Anakin! What do you mean ‘me’ - Obi-Wan loves you, you-”

“I know.” Anakin interrupted her again, knowing he was being unfair; he was just too exhausted to be patient.

“He told me loved me. He...he...found out about what I did to the Tusken village, You should have seen his face, Padme, he was horrified, but he still told me he loved me, and he was willing to forgive me, even though he shouldn’t”

“Of course he forgave you,” Padme whispered. “You’re not a monster, Anakin, I know you would never do something like that again.”

"And then after we talked, I left him alone and he-” Anakin choked out into her dress.

Tears ran down her face, heart breaking. “That’s- that’s horrible. Anakin...it must have have been a attack, Obi-Wan wouldn’t do that.” she said urgently.

He pulled away, horrified. “I made you cry. I made Obi-Wan cry too. I’m sorry- Padme please, promise me you won’t-”

She grabbed the sides of his head.

Her nails bit into the soft skin behind his ears as she pulled him down so they were face-to-face, vowing, “Never. I swear by the force itself, I will never choose death over life.”

He let out a relieved sigh, eyes fluttering closed.

“Now you,” she demanded

“As long as I have anyone to live for, I swear by the force, I will never choose death over life.”

She pulled him the rest of the way in for a bruising kiss. He lifted her, and they desperately clung at one another as he carried her to bed. They continued like that, clinging and grasping, until exhaustion carried him to sleep. She pulled the covers over top them both and curled around him defensively as the day slowly faded away.

Part XI

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #prequel trilogy #potentially triggering #discussions of suicide #references to self-harm #star wars au #bonding? between #Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker #? in my #hurt/comfort fic #? It’s more likely than you’d think #also I struggle with fix it stories that just never address the big tusken elephant in the room? of course i want everyone to #live happily ever but theres a certain scale of atrocity that i feel u gotta address 2 get there #ugh this chapter got reallly long and im just gonna post it ok? ok.#meh #a lot of this fic is just people mentally going What The Fuck at various registers with different inflections #Because that’s not an inappropriate response to time travel in general! and star wars canon in particular.#star wars au no 27

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Title: just a bliss Author: stranestelle Status: complete Rating: T Summary: A lightheaded Anakin Skywalker wakes up to the heavenly vision that is Padmé Amidala. Can you blame the man for wanting to kiss his wife on the spot? Well you can, when the whole thing is witnessed by a room full of senators caught in a hostage situation... and she'd really rather they had waited for later.

Title: just carry me home tonight Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: R Summary: "I – I didn't mean to, it's only that… Well, the Force, it lets me feel… What you feel, and I know this wasn't exactly what you imagined for your wedding night, so I…" His flesh hand rose to scratch his neck awkwardly, "I suppose I just wanted to make this special for you…"

Title: king of my heart Author: catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: T Summary: Anakin Skywalker's holiday to the small country of Naboo takes an unexpected turn when he unknowingly foils an assassination attempt meant for Padmé Naberrie, the nation's Crown Princess. Saving a Princess is crazy enough. The only thing crazier... well, actually, there are a few things. Things Anakin is well on his way to experiencing.

Title: lights in the valley outshine the sun Author: elizabeth7 Status: complete Rating: G Summary: What would happen if Padme survived and Darth Vader finds out? Padme & Anakin Darth Vader.

Title: look into my eyes it’s where my demons hide Author: shelivesfree Status: WIP/Unupdated Rating: T Summary: Each time he comes back to her, a little piece of him is missing... left out there, in the field, with his brothers. She can see it in the way he smiles and it doesn't reach his eyes. In the way he cries to himself when he thinks she's not awake. And all she can do is hold him.

Title: lost Author: pinkeastereggs Status: complete Rating: G Summary: “I feel lost." “Lost . . . what do you mean?” Padme couldn’t help but frown, searching for any signs on her husband’s face that could give her an insight to what he meant. But Anakin was just frowning to the side, seeming conflicted about something. He seemed distant, his eyes filled with an emotion that the young wife couldn’t begin to describe. How long had Anakin had this look in his eyes? Had she been oblivious to it before now or was this something new? Anakin and Padme have a heart-to-heart when he admits to feeling lost and frustrated with the Jedi Council. With truths about his relationship with Palpatine coming to light, Padme fights to talk some sense into her husband.

Title: madam president Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: R Summary: Between late nights and headaches and mountains of paperwork and fierce opposition from her political opponents, President Padmé Amidala already had enough on her plate. And then she just had to go and fall for one of her bodyguards, a relationship which would ruin her reputation and his career if anyone were to find out about it. Also, someone's trying to kill her.

Title: make the world a little colorful Author: estrangedlestrange Status: WIP Rating: G Summary: The morning after meeting her soulmate, Padmé woke up and saw color for the first time. In the midst of a political crisis, Padmé had just met a gungan, two Jedi, and a slave boy and his mother. She, like any rational young woman, assumed the padawan learner was her soulmate. Ten years later, after having accepted that she would never be with her soulmate, Padmé, reunited with both her supposed soulmate and the slave boy, she realized how wrong her assumptions were. The slave boy, Anakin, who had looked at her with wide hopeful eyes and asked if she was an angel, was her soulmate.

Title: the masterplan Author: stranestelle Status: complete Rating: T Summary: In the midst of the endless galactic conflict, Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala have made a shocking discovery that brings more questions than answers. And maybe, just maybe, an end to the never-ending war. Sequel to Give Me A Signal.

Title: mother knows best Author: catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: M Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.... Shmi Skywalker Palpatine had ruled the Galactic Empire on behalf of her son, Anakin, since the death of his father. For his part, the next Emperor has been content to leave politics to his mother and engage only in military exercises. All that is about to change as Padmé Naberrie, former Queen of Naboo, comes seeking aid for her charity, Amidala's Crusade, and Anakin's long-dormant crush comes surging back. What should be a perfect match is opposed by a mother determined not to lose her son and convinced hers is the only way...

Title: no colors in our skin Author: JTHM_Michi Status: Abandoned Rating: T Summary: Anakin grew up knowing that his masters called him the wrong words. They all called him “girl” or “girl-child” and it was just another way for them to dehumanize him. He didn’t know that, of course, not in those words, but it was true enough. His mother was always very clear with him, from the first time he came to her and asked her if she knew which master had taken his “boy parts”, that just because his masters called him a girl didn’t make him one. a.k.a. the Transgender Anakin Skywalker Verse

Title: no heroes on the high seas Author: spellcleaver Status: complete Rating: T Summary: When Luke's aunt and uncle are executed by order of the Emperor's right hand, Lord Vader, he flees his home to search for his sister and the mother he never knew. But then Obi-Wan Kenobi stows away aboard the same ship, Vader gives chase, and Luke is dragged into a conflict that his family are at the very heart of. Gen.

Title: nos cedamus amori Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: M Summary: Anakin is a gladiator and a slave. Padmé is the wife of the Roman emperor's heir. Circumstances should never even allow them to meet, let alone fall in love.

Title: of mutated worlds Author: gemma Status: WIP Rating: M Summary: Nobody saw the end of the world coming. It happened overnight, no warning, no escape. They came from the shadows, biting, paralysing, and killing little by little until they were the majority. One day, everything was normal and then, suddenly, Padme Amidala Naberrie woke up in hell.

Title: of options and comlinks Author: estrangedlestrange Status: complete Rating: G Summary: In that moment it seemed like there were only two options: help Master Windu arrest the Chancellor and secret Sith Lord or heed to Sheev Palpatine’s begging and turn against the Jedi. But then, in a split second, a third option revealed itself.

Title: order 66-S Author: disco shop girl Status: complete Rating: M Summary: The order was to exterminate all Jedi: Past, Present and Future. Captain Rex has a different plan. Order 66-S: to save General Skywalker.

Title: parent-teacher conference Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: G Summary: Anakin has to meet with the twins' second grade teacher after Leia punches a classmate in the face. But he hadn't counted on Ms. Amidala being quite so pretty.

Title: pas de deux Author: catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: M Summary: When Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker meet at their mutual friends' house party, the sparks immediately fly, resulting in a one night stand that both of them want to be the start of something more. Except it turns out that Padmé works at the ballet company Anakin just took over. And Anakin is in the middle of a very heated divorce as he tries to gain custody of his daughter Leia. With pressure coming at them from their private and professional lives, making their fledgling relationship work will prove the biggest role of a lifetime.

Title: the path of the dark Author: catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: T Summary: Vader triumphs. Padmé resists. Series:Three Paths Not Followed. Series: The Darker Path.

Title: perfect Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: G Summary: The war is over, Luke and Leia are five years old, and Anakin and Padmé finally have the peaceful life and big family they've always dreamed of. But their life is about to get a little less peaceful and their family a little bigger.

Title: perfect strangers Author: catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: R Summary: Anakin Skywalker meets a masked angel at a Halloween costume ball, and the two of them hook up for the best night of his life. But when the morning comes, she is nowhere to be found. Padmé Amidala forgot to get the name of a guy she hooked up with at Halloween before running out for work on November 1. A few weeks later, she realizes she's pregnant. Two perfect strangers, certain their paths are never going to cross again. Oops.

Title: pipe dream Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: T Summary: Padmé's new plumber is the most attractive human being she's ever laid eyes on, so naturally, she keeps faking plumbing emergencies so she can keep seeing him.

Title: pocket full of sand Author: philthestone Status: complete Rating: T Summary: “I’m Leia Skywalker,” she says, and there is something unfathomably life-changing about that little declaration. “We’re here to rescue you!” Luke remembers the circumstances of his mother's arrest with a frustrating amount of clarity. AU series where Anakin never falls, Padme is a spy in the senate, and the dynamic duo of Force Sensitive twins don't know they're related.

Title: purgatory Author: helent Status: complete Rating: T Summary: A newly dead Anakin Skywalker wakes in a new world - given the appearance of his 23 year-old self. However, the self-sacrifice that ended his life has also given Anakin an unexpected boon that he isn't sure he can accept. Worse, it comes with conditions that might just be impossible to meet. A moment of redemption is one thing, but a full reformation another entirely.

#anidala #star wars #sw #fic recs #sw fic recs #fanfic #fanfiction #onlyanidala fic recs #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #sw fanfic #sw fic

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crispyjenkins · 4 years

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Convince me, CJ! Make me an Obi Wan stan!

AIGHT NEVER DONE ONE OF THESE BUT HERE WE GO

dunno if you were wanting headcanons or facts, so have some of both

1. tragedy

these posts which are too long to screenshot but say things better than my dumb ass:

duel of the fates analysis by @panharmonium

obi’s sticking to the code even through tragedy by @tarantula-hawk-wasp and @jedi-order-apologist

comparing duel of the fates with the maul duel in rebels by @princeobiwan and @padawanakin

( @panharmonium ) with a wonderful comic here

“Contemplation of death brought only one slight sting of regret, and more than a bit of puzzlement. Until this very moment, he had never realized he’d always expected, for no discernible reason, that when he died, Anakin would be with him.” ― from the Revenge of the Sith novel by Matthew Stover

and his entire story from the jedi apprentice books by Jude Watson (and Dave Wolverton) it makes me weep.

2. worth

this boi just?? doesn’t believe himself? (thanks qui-gon but that’s another post)

from the Revenge of the Sith novel by Matthew Stover

(side note, he’s one of the youngest council members ever?)

and another quote

“He is respected throughout the Jedi Order for his insight as well as his warrior skills. He has become the hero of the next generation of Padawans; he is the Jedi their Masters hold up as a model. He is the being that the Council assigns to their most important missions. He is modest, centered and always kind. He is the ultimate Jedi. It is characteristic of Obi-Wan that he is entirely unaware of this.” — Matthew Stover

didn’t mean for all of those to be stover quotes but here we are

(somewhat related is this excellent post by @gffa discussing obi-wan being a terrifyingly competent fighter)

3. shippable

( @yeahyeahyeaaah )

( @padawansuggest ) and this ship needs more fanart *cries*

( @amiro-art )

this comic for obirex by @jaegervega (cries in rarepairs)

and more that i don’t ship for squick reasons (QuiObi, ObiMaul, MaceObi, ObiTine, etc.)

4. he’s. so. feckin. light?

( @phsmas )

this post from @panharmonium talking about the quote:

“And you, Master. What does your heart tell you you’re meant for?” “Infinite sadness,” Obi-Wan said, even while smiling.”

5. him cute??

(can’t find the original source 😭)

( @lightasthesun i think??)

( @saeseetiin ) like?????? thumb loops?????

and many more instances that i seem to have lost because i fecked up and tagged obi stuff with a hyphen and url coding doesn’t like that

6. him flirt. him never stop flirt.

i’m also having trouble finding pics/gifs of this and i’m sort of too hungry to keep trying, but he flirts while fighting pretty much everybody, which i find very brave and endearing, and love when he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. i just. he’s so willing to sass.

9. ewan mcgreggor put SO MUCH WORK INTO OBI-WAN, he put so much of himself into that role and those movies that i really don’t think you can seperate love for them.

this gif set about him picking his ‘saber in phantom menace ( @kenobi-wxn )

this one where he’s just!! so excited!! to be doing star wars!! ( @manny-jacinto )

him talking about the cultural impact of duel of the fates ( @princeobiwan )

some bloopers from revenge of the sith ( @greenarrow )

him doing george lucas’ job helping daniel logan (boba) in attack of the clones ( @glittergreedo )

( @clubjade ) with an emphasis on

“Now, many years later, the prequels meant a lot to the generation that were kids then. So from smirking, cynical opinions, now I’m getting feedback from the kids they were made for. I’m really happy about that.”

10. some misc. stuff i collected that i didn’t know where else to put

( @theravenjedi )

( @animymind )

and my favourite fucking obi thing of all time:

( @luvvewan ) i just. i have no words for this post. i love him so much.

stuff i can’t find pic/quote evidence for ‘cause i’m too hungry:

he loves the clones. so much. would literally rather die than lose men needlessly

is padmé’s most trusted jedi (even over anakin) and their friendship drives me to tears

had to be told to stop promoting cody

is super strong in the unifying force and has/had lots of visions which i think is underutilised in canon and fanon (so i end up putting it in almost all my writing whoops i love him being an anxious boy so much)

got yelled at by owen lars for trying to help luke from afar and i will FIGHT—

him baby blues

how fecking confused he is when he first lands on kamino

whatever the fuck is happening in this post

came so. fecking. far. from how he was as a padawan, mastered his emotions and found his spot in the universe, no matter how tragic it was

blames himself for both anakin’s fall and the clone chips (even if he never learned about them, which i don’t know what’s canon anymore whether he did or not)

he just?? has so much love in his big ol’ heart? and forgives and grieves and sighs and lives and trusts and dies. and then helps anakin become a force ghost because he can’t imagine death without him.

and now for some headcanons

he likes really realllly bitter tea, partly because qui-gon liked lighter teas so when he starts picking his own after being knighted, he goes with more flavourful ones

his immune system is shot after the clone wars ‘cause he uses so many stims/adrenaline shots/whatever they call them in the gffa because he’s in charge of a third of the GAR and he already worked himself too hard before the wars and boy howdy do those fuck up your immune system

cut his own padawan braid after qui-gon’s death

even though he almost left he order for Satine, he WOULD have if Anakin asked

was lowkey devastated that anakin did not give him his padawan braid after his knighting during the clone wars (no clue what’s canon anymore? but i grew up on the 2003 clone wars, and anakin gives it to padmé and i’m still having feelings about it)

is the council’s baby, in that everyone on the council either saw/helped him grow up, or grew up with him.

while canon says he could never kill anakin, he would have killed vader to protect luke

so in conclusion:

( @left-leggus )

#long post #cj answers #anon #obi wan kenobi #analysis #prequel trilogy #original trilogy #clone wars #i'm so sorry to everybody i ended up tagging in this #i didn't want your work to go uncredited #the obi stan saga

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mandalorianchronicles · 4 years

Text

So What Makes a Mandalorian a Mandalorian? || Part One

Among the main themes playing out in this season, Din’s perception about Mandalorians is a major one. Those of us who grew up with Star Wars - watched the movies, the TV series, read the books - basically consumed as much Star Wars content as we could...we have a lot of Mandalorian lore and information to sift through and many of it is contradictory.

For those who saw the OT, Boba Fett was the original Mandalorian. There were many books written about this one bounty hunter who had a soft spot for the nastiest characters in the galaxy. They were always writing him to have this complicated code of honor that made him sort of good, even though he was clearly bad. We *wanted* him to be good.

Then the PT came out and we got his backstory. Jango Fett was a bounty hunter who took a job as the DNA donor for the entire GAR and kept one unaltered clone for himself to raise as a son. When the Jedi killed Jango, 10-year-old Boba was left alone, nursing a deep hatred for the Jedi (or at least, for Mace Windu). His fondness for the Empire in his later years now made more sense.

But Boba still wasn’t a Mandalorian, as nothing that the EU books or comics had released about him was counted as canon, even before Disney took over. Then TCW came out and we had even more insight into Boba. We saw his complete disregard for his clone brothers. We saw Aurra Sing leading him down a darker and darker path - but we also saw how he didn’t enjoy killing for the sake of killing either. That much, his father had instilled in him. In interviews, we discovered that George Lucas had never intended for either Jango or Boba to be true Mandalorians, something that TCW seemed to confirm when Obi-Wan Kenobi asked the Prime Minister of Mandalore about Jango and Almec stated that Jango was not a Mandalorian and he didn’t even know how Jango had come by that armor. The case seemed closed at that point, though many fans doggedly clung to the lore than Boba and Jango were Mandalorians.

Fast forward to today. We learned a few important things about Boba:

1) His armor is actually his father’s. There was conflicting lore about this as well, none of it confirmed in canon. Some said it was Jango’s, others said it was his own. Some even said that it was made of carbon steel, instead of beskar. Glad that’s settled.

2) Boba never took the creed. This was assumed by most everyone who watch TCW, but it’s good that it was confirmed. So, if you go by the supposition that true Mandalorians are not a race, but a creed - Boba Fett is not Mandalorian.

3) Jango *might* have been a Mandalorian. He was a foundling and he was given the armor by Mandalorians. That would imply that he did take the creed, but it doesn’t confirm it. Foundlings who are raised by Mandalorians are allowed to take the creed when they come of age, and then they are given their own armor. However, as we know from season one, foundlings who take the creed are all recorded in the Hall of Records on Mandalore, something that Prime Minister Almec would have had access to. He obviously knew Jango, but was emphatic about the fact that Jango was NOT Mandalorian. So, did Jango actually take the creed to become a true Mandalorian? Was he “given” the armor or did he take it? Is The Mandalorian retconning TCW or is there more to the story? We may never know. Regardless, he was killed, and Boba inherited the beskar. And now he has it back.

Which brings us back to the Din’s identity crisis in season 2.

Din has learned some very important things about Mandalorians over the past several weeks, and I’d say he’s taking it very well. We started out with him meeting Cobb Vanth, a non-Mandalorian wearing Boba’s armor. When he took off the helmet, Din rightly assumed he was not a Mandalorian. They worked out a deal, and Din kept the armor because it belonged with a true Mandalorian.

Next, Din met Bo-Katan Kryze. When she took off her helmet, Din wrongly assumed she was not a Mandalorian. She informed him that he was part of the Children of the Watch, a fringe cult of Mandalorian zealots who believe in “the way”. I’m going to pause here and define what a cult is for people who have been debating this for the last few weeks.

A cult is “a system of religious veneration and devotion directed toward a particular figure or object.” In the case of CotW, their devotion is directed to the armor itself. Mandalorians existed long before they had their armor (according to legend). They developed the beskar armor to even the playing field against their ancient enemies, the Jedi...and everyone else in the known galaxy. We have seen people born on Mandalore (I’ll call them indigenous Mandalorians, even though they are supposedly not the original aliens who inhabited Mandalore) who live their daily lives without armor. We’ve seen how certain indigenous Mandalorians have rejected the warrior ways, though it’s unclear if they still swore to the Mandalorian creed - which I would love to have a canon copy of (please, Filoni?). Even the warrior Mandalorians who owned armor were not always wearing it, and certainly didn’t have a problem showing their faces.

To the warriors like Gar Saxon, Sabine Wren, Bo-Katan, Pre Vizsla, and Fenn Rau - their armor is important to their heritage and their line of work, but it is not their entire identity. Take off the armor and they are still Mandalorians. Not so with the CoTW. Take off that armor in front of another person, and you are no longer able to put it on again. Get defeated just once in combat and an enemy removes your helmet, and you are no longer a Mandalorian. Their entire identity revolves around the beskar. It’s implied that a single failure results in expulsion from the group, unless you’re fine being that one person who walks around naked and exposed, the humiliation and shame of your failure staring you in the face behind expressionless masks every moment of every day. THAT is what makes Din’s group a cult, and if you have a problem with the term, I’m sorry. But that’s what is is.

Moving on. Din has suddenly been made aware that “the way” is not the ONLY way. He rejects this at first, but Bo-Katan masterfully draws him into a mission that she did not need his help with to show that if he ever decided to be open-minded, he had a place with them. I’ll write more on her later, but I don’t have the time to do her justice here. She gets in her digs in true Bo-Katan fashion, but in the end, you can tell that Din has begun to accept her as legit.

Milestone #1: Okay, so some Mandalorians who swore to the creed take off their helmets in front of other people, but they can put it back on again.

Next, Din met Boba Fett and learned that he did not swear the creed. Since the armor was in Din’s possession, obviously Boba had been defeated at some point by someone (if he only knew it was an accidental bump to the jetpack by a blind Han Solo). But since Din forgot to lock up the Razor Crest with its state of the art ground security protocols which I will now never know the details of, Boba snuck in and took his armor back. He then proceeds to take out a few squads of stormtroopers with it, earning some brownie points. Remarkably, Din does not threaten to take it off him as he did with Vanth, but I sure wanted to...ahem. I digress. When Boba shows his chain code (which is apparently also a birth certificate and might have cleared up some lineage confusion in past films), Din just accepts that because Jango was a foundling, the armor rightfully belonged to Boba.

Milestone #2: You can be defeated and have your armor taken away from you and still put it back on again.

Milestone #3: You don’t even have to swear to the creed of Mandalore to have the right to wear beskar armor, as long as your father (or, sole DNA donor) was a Mandalorian foundling.

We’re seeing Din’s ingrained worship of the armor being stripped away one layer at a time. He’s learning that what makes someone Mandalorian does not begin and end with the metal plates they attach to their bodies. It’s deeper than that. And I, for one, cannot wait to see where this leads him.

#The mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #boba fett #the tragedy #din djarin #children of the watch #the mandalorian creed #jango fett

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Text

HMM WATCHA SAAAAY Chapter 5

Kix was incredibly thankful that Master Che – Call me Vokara, Kix – had given him unrestrained access to the Halls of Healing. While it had been necessary for his research, learning more about physical therapy as a whole, it also came with the great bonus of access to the pills that made your mind clear up a little after crashing. It was supposed to be taken after long shifts, but Kix had gathered that it was usually given to anybody in a less fortunate state of mind that needed to get a clear head, such as Senior Padawans who had been out all night in the Lower levels and had a mission on the next day.

The last week had been hellish between accumulating whatever insights they could get from General Skywalker on his and trying to put together a physical therapy program for somebody who should be as healthy as a bantha. The fact that the Council had called upon them for the final report and Kix as the head researcher was supposed to lay out their findings was also not the highlight of this week.

“Medic Kix,” one of the Council members greeted him. “Master Che, Master Erin, Medic Coric, thank you for taking the time to present us your findings.”

Most Council members were off-world again already so the circle in front of him wasn’t particularly large. Kix wished that General Kenobi would be here at least, but he and the 212th had to be called back to battle. The 501st was to follow soon, but whether their General could come with them relied on Kix’s report. He had sworn not embellish anything, to pretend his General was better off than he appeared to be, but he was tempted to do so. He couldn’t help it, he didn’t want to go anywhere without knowing that his General had his back. He didn’t mind working with another Jedi, they were all equally kind and good, but they weren’t Anakin Skywalker.

And Kix would rather have Anakin, exhausted and terrified out of his mind, with him, than a stranger, no matter how kind.

“It is of no trouble, Master Jedi,” Kix replied.

This was another thing Kix had noticed during his stay at the temple. The Jedi refused to use military titles for themselves inside of it. They were Masters, Healers, Knights Padawans – but they were not Generals or Commanders. Kix and his brothers, of course, got addressed by their proper titles, spoken with honor and an edge of regret, but that was it.

“You have been taking care of Anakin from the beginning?” General Koon asked.

Kix liked Plo Koon. The Kel Door took good care of the men under his command and he was always ready to make sure Kix’s little Commander was in good fighting shape when she was in his care.

“Yes,” Kix replied. “Coric and I were the ones who oversaw the General’s transport back to the ship and then consequently watched over him for the week he was comatose.”

“Were the injuries he gained in the battle so severe?”

Kix shook his head. “No, not at all. It was an easy campaign all in all.”

“From my understanding of the events, as Kix elaborated them, Knight Skywalker experienced an immense shock when he was hit by the vision,” Vokara explained. “Consequently, he was disorientated and must have experienced sensory overload. His collapse was his body’s attempt at shutting him down to give himself time to deal with the onslaught of memories and unfamiliarity of his body.”

When they had attempted to figure out why muscle memory alone wasn’t keeping Anakin upright, Vokara had brought up pieces of Jedi philosophy so far unknown to Kix. Jedi viewed bodies as conduits of the Force. Only in a healthy body could rest a healthy mind and only a healthy mind could access the Force. It was the reason that Anakin’s one prosthetic was already viewed with so much heartbreak. Kix supposed it made everything that came after only worse.

“Can Skywalker be sent back with the 501st?” Master Koon continued, directly cutting to the most difficult part.

“Under normal circumstances, I’d say no. I don’t think he should ever actually handle combat at all again. While physically he will be back on top of his game within a few weeks, if not surpass it still, I cannot condone such an action when taking his mental health into account.”

While the Jedi all tried to keep a neutral expression, Kix had been trained to deal with the most stubborn no-I’m-not-injured-I-promise brothers and I-can-hold-off-an-army-on-my-own Jedi and he could easily spot when somebody was starting to slip. The Jedi were surprised, not at the latter aspect, it was clear as day that the General was far from possessing a healthy mind, they wondered about his strength.

“Councilors, if I may suggest, I believe it would be best if we started with our report now,” Kix inserted. “It will answer a lot of questions as to Master Skywalker’s precise condition.”

He wondered if he was already crossing lines, trying to make it all out to be better than it was just by taking their attention away from how the General was right now instead of how he could be, had been.

“Proceed you may,” Master Yoda said grimly.

Hearing how much stronger their enemy was, how he was luring them all towards their death, must have greatly disturbed the old Master. Kix thought of the old clones back on Kamino, those who hadn’t made it to the front lines and watched the Shinies instead. And he thought of the war veterans, those who had been on Geonosis. They all had the same look in their eyes when they assigned the should-be-still-cadets to the frontlines. The sadness for being responsible for the deaths of so many young lives, it was not easy to bear.

“Three months ago, in the aftermath of a campaign, Knight Anakin Skywalker collapsed,” Kix began to say, his eyes not even flickering to the text on the datapad he was holding. “He froze, then Force-pushed the nearest troopers away from him and lost consciousness. He had no visible injuries and was brought to the medbay for further examination. After twenty-four hours, he woke for the first time. He reacted with similar panic and it took multiple sedations as well as Master Obi-Wan Kenobi using a Force-suggestion to put him to sleep again. This manner continued for another five days.”

Those five days had been some of the worst Kix had to experience during the entire war so far. Coric and he had run themselves ragged to keep an eye on their General, never mind how exhausted Master Kenobi had been after staying awake for so long.

“He was catatonic when he woke up after this time period. Even while awake, he didn’t react to anything. He needed a breathing machine and we fed him intravenously. He snapped out of it after another three days…”

Kix trailed off. When they had discussed how they would present their findings, they had decided that Kix would speak of all events he had been there to witness with Vokara contributing the Jedi perspective. Bant and Coric didn’t actually need to be present for this, but they had all worked through this report together, they should do this together as well.

“As, at the time, no professional mind healer could make it to the 501st-“ Vokara’s voice was professionally cold, but after all these evenings spend in her office or apartment, Kix could hear the bitterness that was seeping into it. “Master Kenobi decided to take it upon himself to help Skywalker’s splintered mind. He was successful, though I believe that is largely due to the bond the two share and want it noted on Master Kenobi’s file that he is herby prohibited from attempting to do the same with any other Jedi. It could have backfired incredibly easily and then we would have lost two Jedi instead of one.”

The Council nodded in agreement and Vokara quickly swiped away their open report to replace it with her file on General Kenobi. She added a small note there, then changed the documents once more.

“When Master Skywalker finally properly woke up then, he was still confused and disorientated. It took a full day before he could breathe and speak on his own, both aftereffects of what he experienced in his vision,” Kix continued.

The General’s hoarse words had been difficult to understand. For one because it had felt like he hadn’t known how to string them together properly, on the other because of the low volume. The General was always loud which made it easy to spot him in a crowd. To hear him speak so silently was the first sign that something had been wrong.

“I have so far classified his experience as a new type of vision,” Vokara explained. “Our research on temporal physics is limited, I do not know if his claims of time travel are accurate, but it was certainly no normal vision. Not even Master Sifo-Dyas had experienced a vision as such. Skywalker has experienced twenty years’ worth of memories, hence his body being uncomfortable to him.”

“Forgive me my question,” Shaak Ti said. “But from the brief account Master Kenobi gave us, I had gathered that Skywalker was experiencing something more akin to body dysphoria than merely feeling uncomfortable.”

“That would be correct,” Vokara retorted and then sighed in defeat. “Or as correct as it can be. I will be honest, we are missing terminology to properly definite Skywalker’s condition. To put it simply, Skywalker is hardly used to having a body. From his account, and what we have gathered based on physical reactions, Skywalker spent twenty years with about 65% of his body having been replaced. In other words, only 35% of himself was still organic.”

“What!?” The hiss of one of the Councilors rang like an accusation through the room.

Horror, shock and nausea washed through the air so strongly that even Kix could feel it, be it though that he wasn’t even the slightest bit Force-sensitive. He understood their recoiling even without the pain that their understanding of life and the Force brought them. He half-expected the windows to crack under the might of their outrage, used to such displays from his General.

“He had lost both his legs as well as his remaining arm. It is the reason Master Skywalker spend the first days after his awakening in a wheelchair, though he refused to use it for long. He had to relearn how to walk. His fine-motor control is also still lacking slightly, his current prosthetic arm being the one he has the best handling of. His digestive system was also severely damaged and barely anything remained from his lungs. He was dependent on intravenous feeding and a breathing machine that he could manually override, but only at great cost to himself. Additionally, to his lungs, his vocal tract was also damaged to the degree that he needed a vocoder to speak.”

“And how did he sustain those injuries in his vision?” Master Koon asked. He had his hands laying folded on his lap. No movement betrayed him, but Kix distinctly got the impression that he was attempting to hold himself back from doing something rash.

“We aren’t entirely sure. Master Skywalker has been reluctant to share how exactly he came to be injured in such a way,” Kix stated. Reluctant was the most diplomatic way of describing how haunted General Skywalker had looked when Kix had just alluded to the topic. He hadn’t shut down, but the expression on his face, utter terror bathed in fear, had been enough. “The event must have been highly traumatic and evidence points towards him being burned alive, likely while he was completely conscious for it. He mentioned needed skin grafts on multiple occasions and is extremely uncomfortable around fire.”

Kix felt a little like he was betraying his General by sharing such information behind his back. Of course, Skywalker had been made aware that there would be an extensive report on his condition, but he likely thought it was just about his capability to return to the battlefield. The General didn’t seem to really consider that his mental health mattered as well. Kix was not one of the medics particularly schooled in psychiatry, Coric had started looking more into it and so he and Master Erin had been the one to draft a psychological profile on Skywalker, based on what they knew about his future-past.

They hadn’t gathered much yet, but that part of their report was about as pretty as the rest.

“And he lived with all those injuries for twenty years?” The hopeful disbelief, the want for it all to be a lie, was apparent.

Jedi were not in the habit of being in denial, speaking the harsh truths the senators seldom wanted to hear, but that didn’t mean that they wanted to accept it all.

“A little more, actually,” Kix was forced to admit. “I believe it was around twenty-five. He had made references to such years existing. The cause of his own death is unknown as well, though it was possibly the result of his failing health.”

“And, additionally, we have been led to believe that he spent most of those years being extensively tortured by the Sith Lord keeping him.”

“Master Kenobi had already mentioned so,” Plo Koon said.

Kix nodded slowly. He wished General Kenobi would be here now, listening to them give the report instead of reading it on his own onboard the Negotiator. The paper they had written was clinical, factual, but Kix had long since realized that there was a time and place for hard facts and gentle truths.

“I am aware, but Master Kenobi is not aware of the extent we believe this torture to have reached. Skywalker has mentioned Sith Lightning and apparently knows how to disperse it within the body instead of just bearing it and survive. This implies that he was exposed to it multiple times, likely not with the intention of killing him, and learned from those sessions.”

“How have you concluded all that?”

Kix and Vokara shared a look. Their report had already been all over the place, more a discussion than a systematic rundown of what looked like hell come alive.

“Perhaps, best we start at the beginning?” General Yoda spoke up.

The Master, though powerful he was, appeared so old now, almost frail like every gust of wind could swipe him away. And yet there was this determination in his eyes, the willingness and need to know what harm would come to them.

“That would be the easiest,” Vokara replied and began anew.

Kix had written this report, read it about a thousand times and repeated it to others as well. Its content was familiar to him, the words he knew by heart, and still, at times, he found himself caught off-guard. Worst was when Vokara, though she kept a distance to the topic at hand, would sometimes need to read a sentence twice. The two of them had seen gruesome injuries, Jedi and Brothers alike die of less than what General Skywalker had lived through.

Which was the precise reason why they needed to put him back on the battlefield.

“I am prejudiced in this,” Kix admitted freely, finally finishing. The sky had turned dark by now and he desperately needed to drink something. “I want my General at my back. However, there is also the matter that he survived all of this. I do not actually believe that we stop him from going out on his own should we attempt to keep him away from the fighting. He might even decide to face Sidious head-on, and we can’t allow that to happen.”

The Jedi looked troubled by his assessment and so Kix was not too surprised when they sent him and the other three out of the room to make their decision. Kix had done all he could at this point to protect his General.

He had done his job and fulfilled his duty.

Now he could only hope that it had been enough.

#star wars #clone trooper kix #vokara che #plo koon #jedi council #anakin skywalker #fanfic #medical trauma time travel AU #ask #anon #lmao you THINK im gonna make obi-wan go through the report when he's surrounded by people

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siennahrobek · 3 years

Text

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31766296/chapters/82386322

Future Past

6 BBY

Luke is eleven years old.

Luke went through a lot of firsts during his time with Ben. Often times, they could be some of his happiest memories, ones he would cherish and go back to when he was feeling sad or frustrated or generally negative.

The first time Luke saw him fight with a lightsaber put him in awe. It hadn’t been the first time Luke had seen the saber, but it had been the first time he had seen it – and Ben – in action. It was a bit inspiring. It only made Luke want to be a jedi more. It wasn’t all about the violence – although that may have played a part – but Ben was so smooth and calm, at one with the saber.

It sang.

And it was absolutely beautiful.

Luke remembered one of the earliest fights with an Inquisitor. It had been the first time Ben had drawn and ignited his lightsaber for battle. And Luke would probably never say otherwise – it was mesmerizing. No one fought like Ben. And Ben just obliterated his opponent.

Or, he supposed he would have, if Luke had listened to him.

At the time, Luke thought it would be the craziest thing he would ever see. He didn’t remember most events leading up to it, but he did remember the man who just pounced on them out of nowhere, a red saber practically screeching toward Luke’s head – was the saber screaming? Was Luke? It could have been both.

Ben had blocked the blade before it made contact with Luke and the boy’s vision had turned white from the light emanating from the lightsabers. Luke could not even breathe.

“Luke! To the ship!” Ben had barked in a tone Luke had never heard from him before. But Luke did not disobey, he scrambled away from the contradiction of the sobbing and shrieking of one saber and the quiet, protective and comforting strength of the other.

He tore across the grass, stains on his knees and arms from the dirt as he raced to their ship. Once at the ramp, he had turned around. He couldn’t help it.

“Ben!”

Ben had taken precious time to look over at him, eyes flashing in some kind of protective fury that only gentled at the sight of him.

The strange man had thrown Ben into a tree for the distraction.

Luke let out a cry.

It would be the only blow the Inquisitor would make. The man moved towards Luke and the boy was virtually frozen in fear. The red saber and its user just turned in time to block Ben’s initial blow, once again in the fight with a warrior and not a child. It was pretty much over after that, by then. A bare few mere strokes and the duel was finished with the Inquisitor on the ground. Unconscious or dead, Luke was too frazzled to know. But he did remember running into Ben and leaping into his arms.

He had caught the child, but it was a close thing, and he dropped his saber for the catch, which he did with a grunt at the sudden weight. “I’m so sorry, Ben!” Luke wailed. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, beacon. I’m fine,” Ben assured as he shifted himself to hold Luke better, but the boy just curled his arms and legs around the older man so tightly, it was unlikely he would fall even if Ben had let go. He used the force to pull his saber to him and started walking back to the ship.

Luke tucked his face into the crook of Ben’s neck. Ben just patted his back.

“It’s alright, Luke,” he murmured as they walked into the ship. The ramp closed up behind them. “Now do you see why we have rules?”

“Rules can be good,” Luke agreed, muttering in Ben’s neck and hair.

“There is a time and place to both follow and break rules,” he said, gently. “I will try to teach you to decide which is which and when either is good or appropriate.”

Luke just hummed. He didn’t let Ben go for quite some time.

It would be weeks later when the force apparition – ghost, Luke thought – of Qui-Gon Jinn appeared to him. He was ready for lessons that Luke would later recognize as kind of undermining or contradicting Ben’s. It was rather confusing, but Luke was young and impressionable. Surely Qui-Gon thought he could get some of his maverick and living force tendencies and lessons in. And he did. Sort of. Eventually.

But it happened later, when Luke understood more, better. What Qui-Gon Jinn didn’t quite realize was how Luke was into Ben, how curious he was about his guardian. When Qui-Gon had came back around again, Luke had learned about padawans. And all he wanted was to be Ben’s.

Which meant, at this stage, he had very little interest in Qui-Gon Jinn’s teachings… unless it pertained to Ben.

“Hello, Luke,” Qui-Gon Jinn greeted warmly. The boy was in his little room, fiddling with a tiny, dull carving knife, going at it in a wooden carving. Blonde hair shifted as he perked, glancing up at the blue hue of the ghost, no longer surprised by his appearance. He nearly threw the knife and wood away from his body but paused, carefully setting them on a tiny shelf, taking several safety precautions in the process.

The ghost tried to stifle his chuckle.

“Hello Master Jinn,” Luke greeted when he was done, sitting cross legged and looking up at him with a wide smile.

“Ah, it’s Master Jinn now, huh?”

“Ben told me about masters and padawans,” Luke replied. “And the difference between slave masters and teacher masters. I think I’m pretty sure I can understand the difference.”

“And how do you think the difference is?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Well, a master like a jedi can become a master, is mastering yourself and learning a topic, or several, where you know more about than most,” Luke replied, and it sounded like he was almost reciting it. Qui-Gon wondered if he had looked it up in a dictionary or had learned and then rehearsed it.

The ghost nodded and drifted towards the boy a little closer. “Would you be amendable to talk?” he asked.

Luke just smiled. “I don’t know what amendable means, but I’d love to talk. I have sooooomany questions,” he said and there was something about his expression that was a tad bit suspicious, but Qui-Gon certainly couldn’t quite understand it.

“Well, I suppose we have some time for some questions…” he drifted off, uncertainly. He was only eleven after all; no doubt he had many questions in general. He just hoped that he could be able to have adequate answers.

“Great!” Luke cheered as he shifted in his bed, pulling the blanket up into his lap and wiping away wooden shavings. “Do you want to sit down?”

The older – dead – man just chuckled again, a bit nervous this time. “Uh, I don’t really need to sit. I’m not even entirely sure that I can.”

Luke shrugged. “Okay. Ben said it’s polite to offer a seat when you can. Speaking of, I should start simple. How long was Ben your padawan?”

“Uh…” Qui-Gon drifted off, uncertainly. This was not what he was expecting. “He became my padawan around age thirteen and he was knighted at twenty-five, after my death,” he answered, and Luke scribbled something in a notebook. “What are you writing?”

Luke shrugged. “No worries. Just thoughts. Do you know his favorite food?”

“Favorite food?”

“Ben’s favorite food,” Luke clarified, staring at him expectantly. The simple questions lasted a few more minutes until they stretched into somethings that needed longer answers, such as, “What was your first mission? What was the most fun mission? Why does Ben not like droids? Did you know my father? Do you know about Ben’s lovers? Or his friends? Does he like candles? What hobbies did he have when he was young? Were you the one who taught him Sabaac? You know when he does that thing? You know that thing with his face? Do you know what that means?”

Qui-Gon Jinn didn’t really have a concept of time as a force ghost, but he knew that much time must have had passed. Luke kept asking question after question, skillfully going from one topic to the next in conversation. But they were nearly all pertaining to Ben. Luke seemed utterly uninterested in anything the jedi had to offer except for insights on Qui-Gon’s former padawan. He had plenty of those, admittedly. But the realization and thought had stunned him next.

It took the old jedi an admittedly embarrassingly long time to realize it.

“You’re stalling,” he noted, dumbfounded.

Luke stopped talking, abruptly, in the middle of what he was saying and stared at him for several moments. And then he glanced down at the chrono at his bedside. Upon seeing the numbers listed, he perked and jumped up, cheering loudly.

Qui-Gon Jinn jerked back, startled.

“I DID IT!” he yelled, spinning around in some type of a dance, waving his hands and legs around as he laughed, near hysterically.

“You did what?”

“I distracted youfor three hours!” Luke grinned at him, standing on his bed with his face and eyes gleaming in pride. “Ben said I couldn’t do it for even one.” The child just jumped off the bed and ran off, away from the room, yelling and screaming in glee. Qui-Gon was left absolutely flabbergasted. And he stayed there for several minutes, too stunned to move.

Eventually, his former apprentice found him in the child’s room, his expression something absolutely amused and completely glowing with pride.

“You are training him to stall,” Qui-Gon noted, incredulous and dumbfounded.

“Yes of course,” Ben affirmed, tucking his hands into his large sleeves.

“For three hours,” Qui-Gon continued slowly.

“I am impressed that he got through that long without some plant or pathetic lifeform’s help,” Ben admitted.

“You still use that form?”

Obi-Wan just hummed. “It has become a bit of an endearment over the years.”

“Three hours,” Qui-Gon repeated, flatly.

“It is a good start,” Ben replied.

“Start? You plan on training him to do that for longer?”

Ben glanced at him, staring for a moment in surprise. He turned a bit to pick up and sweep up some of the wooden shavings Luke had left, as well as straighten his bed, left messed up with Luke’s celebratory dance. “Of course, I do. It is a good skill to have, especially in the galaxy that we currently live in. The one Luke is forced to live in.”

“I do have teachings for you,” Qui-Gon urged, gently. After his talk with Ben, he went to find Luke again. He did find him, as it wasn’t a large ship, and he was in the kitchenette area, snacking on some treats. The boy was practically stuffing his face. He glanced at up at the ghost and chewed and then swallowed before he spoke.

“If I need to know them, I’m sure Ben will teach me,” Luke shrugged and made a move to eat more of whatever food he was enjoying. He paused as Qui-Gon kept speaking.

“Has he made rules for seeing and talking to me?” Qui-Gon asked, continued to be dumbfounded. That wasn’t exactly something he was expecting. Obi-Wan – Ben – didn’t seem averse to Qui-Gon teaching and talking with Luke, in fact, he almost seemed to encourage it.

“No,” Luke replied steadily, keeping his eyes on his task as he picked out some of the specific treats from the bag. He didn’t seem too bothered by this line of questioning. Well, at least Ben wasn’t putting a ban on it but if Ben didn’t… Qui-Gon wasn’t sure what was going on. And then Luke kept going, calm and stable as ever. “I did.”

“What? Why?” he sputtered.

“You say dumb things sometimes.”

Qui-Gon did not know what that meant. Or rather, what the boy meant by that. He had only spoken to the youngster twice. “About what?”

Luke shrugged again and popped a treat in his mouth. He seemed to start to offer one to Qui-Gon but then paused and thought about it. It probably came to his attention at that moment that Qui-Gon couldn’t exactly eat. Or drink. It was a bit of a letdown, honestly. Ben kept quite a bit of tea on the ship. “You can be kind of confusing and exhausting sometimes.”

“Confusing and exhausting,” Qui-Gon echoed, confused.

5 BBY

Luke is twelve years old.

“Please be gentle with the controls. I am not convinced these old bones can take it.”

Luke couldn’t help but shrink a bit as his hands tightened around the ship’s controls. His eyes cast down at the board in shame. “Sorry, Ben.”

“No worries. Just keep it in mind,” he gently reminded as he put a hand under the boy’s chin to lift it. “And keep your eyes where you desire to go.”

It wasn’t Luke first lesson when it came to flying the ship, but it was the first time that they were practicing in the dangers of a junk yard. Getting caught was dangerous, of course, but what the trick really was ended up being avoiding others and the debris that was constantly moving. And the creatures that sometimes inhabited the planets underneath the rubble.

Luke was good and they both knew it. He had a knack and talent for it, something Ben had told him he had in common with his father. Ben told him that Anakin Skywalker had been an unparalleled pilot, absolutely amazing in the sky. It had been a note and story that excited the youngster because oh wow he was like his father. In such a way, he was like his father, that was so good and pure, and he wanted nothing more.

He had been so thrilled to hear what they had in common.

“A ship is not an animal. It cannot feel and it cannot learn,” Ben kept speaking, hours into their practice in the junkyard planet. Luke almost laughed. Ben was good with animals, something he had learned fairly quickly, and he said it was something Luke could get better with as well. Luke didn’t get to see a lot of animals, but Ben said it was natural to connect with others in bonds. Luke was looking forward to learning. “Whereas a beast – a varactyl for example – can learn and move with you, a ship cannot and needs explicit instructions,” he explained. “However, a too firm and strict grasp on the controls can jerk around your movements and it won’t make flying any easier.

Luke nodded as he softened his hand, not even shooting Ben a glance. “Got it.”

He kept lightening his touch on the controls, leaning with the movements, putting all his attention on the outside surroundings to avoid or go around with an emphasis on where he was going. These places were natural obstacle courses.

“You are going very well,” Ben hummed. Luke barely heard him. “Let’s kick things up a notch, eh?”

At first, Luke wasn’t entirely sure what he meant but it soon became clear. They were going faster. Objects and downed ships flew past them, and Luke could almost feel the wind whistling in his ears. Logically, he knew that was impossible, that it was just the engines working to keep up with what Luke was asking of them.

But oh, did it feel like it.

Luke just let out a whoop.

(Luke would be thirteen the first time he outflies Darth Vader. He would never forget it. Perhaps it was luck and circumstance rather than solely on skill. Luke certainly thinks so even if Ben says there is no such thing as luck. Luke takes that as a compliment.)

Present Past

Start

Luke was left alone for the night.

All in all, he didn’t actually sleep much. Enough, but not much. He walked around the assigned room, looking and searching. There had to be something, anything, he could use. He was a survivor, he was determined, like his guardian before him. There was a thorough search of his room, and he collected any tools he thought he could possibly use. There was not much. He didn’t have the quite the feelings and foresight as Ben did, but he did have instincts and he had learned from some the best. Afterwards, Luke knelt on the floor, laying a thin folded blanket under his knees. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and just sunk into the Force.

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” Luke exhaled as he recited the mantra, quiet and nearly inaudible, even to himself. He had found something in the jedi mantra, especially after Ben clarified the intricacies of it. At first glance, in the initial stages of his explanation, it had been incredibly hard to understand in a way that wasn’t harsh on the jedi. But as Ben quietly explored and continued to elaborate, Luke understood more. He didn’t completely understand it all yet, but the mantra had been a source of comfort for him. Something to say when things were hard. “There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.”

He reached out, avoiding the oily dark presence that he knew to be Count Dooku and gave it a wide berth. There wasn’t a great deal of the force’s presence on the ship, being so enormously inhabited with droids, void of life. He reached further. Dull, dull, disgustingly dark. Moving along, he startled at a brightness. Not the clone troopers, as there was only a singularity in the particular area, but it was warm and stunning and…

Purposefully tempered.

He swallowed harshly and moved on, but he kept it in mind. As he reached further, there was a small mass of light somewhere near the edges of the space, but, if he concentrated and looked closer, harder, more, he could make it out.

Make out…

One; soft and warm, loyal and curious. Worried.

Two; steadfast and solid, collected.

Three; questioning, irritated, full of life and joy.

Four; snarky and ready, bundled and sardonic.

Five; a tad determined, understated, kind.

Six; working, working, working, comfort, trying, trying, trying.

Luke exhaled in relief. The troopers, strong in their light and presence. At the very least, alive and not in immediate danger of dying. There was that, at least. He opened his eyes and could almost feel them softening. The things around him started to blurry and his hand reached up to his face. It came back damp. Oh, so he’s crying. “Okay, okay,” he muttered, wiping the tears away. It was something, he wasn’t alone yet. He could do this. He could do this. “They are alive. Now I just need to figure out how to get us out of here.

Count Dooku’s brief communication with the Queen of Zygerria had not gone as smoothly as it should have. He took it with the strength, demand and grace as he always did but she was determined to keep some of her freedom. Pity. She wasn’t the only one that was actively annoying him. There was so much going on, and so much to think and figure out. After the call, Count Dooku managed to retire to his quarters with minimal distractions or encounters. He would have to figure out what to do with the wounded traitor besalisk. It was fairly obvious what the former jedi wanted, what he apparently thought he was worthy of.

But Dooku had little interest in that tutelage.

But he wasn’t useless, Dooku could get something out of him.

His assistant had brewed him some fresh tea in a pot and so he walked over to the stand and poured himself half a glass. Taking a sip, he took a breath and tried to organize what he currently knew. Something was happening. In the force. In the galaxy. Something even his master hadn’t – couldn’t – account for.

And young Luke was centered in the middle of it. Dooku didn’t know how or why or anything of that sort. He didn’t know specifics, he couldn’t. He hardly knew anything about the boy at all. It was all rather sudden. And it was, in fact, incredibly frustrating.

The child had most certainly been trained by Kenobi, that much was clear, by the way he moved and even the way he spoke. He had spent plenty of time fighting and often conversing briefly with the jedi. Dooku also had a lot of spies and intelligence feeding him information, especially when it came to Skywalker and Kenobi. But he had never even had heard of an inkling of anyone named Luke.

It was like he just manifested one moment.

Where did he come from?

Obviously, Kenobi had kept him well hidden and kept in contact with him. So much so that Luke had learned well from the jedi. How could he be so much like a padawan without being one and never show up in Kenobi’s life. His research had come up with very little. Luke was about fifteen or sixteen, he’d wager, making Kenobi about twenty, perhaps, when he was born. Maybe a little more, maybe a little less. Dooku hadn’t paid much attention to his grand padawan until the war started, aside from his own master’s thoughts and notes on Kenobi and his padawan, but once Kenobi started rising quickly thought the war, proving himself such a worthy and capable general, Dooku looked more.

How could he not?

“Ah,” Luke smiled, looking up as the door opened to his room. It was fake, of course, it was hard to try being pleased with the sight before him when he was very much, not. Count Dooku and his assistant strode in, a tray in the latter’s hand. It had been quite some time since they had left him alone, plenty of time to think. Luke could smell the aroma of Alderaanian Jasmine. It made his eyes near flutter, oh did he love that. He was sitting on the floor, kneeling, meditating and did not move when the two of them came in. “My keeper,” he pondered, and he pushed as much amusement in his voice as he could. “What do I owe the pleasure? Would you prefer our delightful back and forth banter or are you here with questions? I must confess, I do not imagine I have many answers to the latter,” he admitted.

“I have had sustenance brought,” Dooku replied, stiffly.

“Cool,” Luke grinned wider as he stood up and gratefully took the tray. He set it on the bed and plopped down next to it. The food was easy to eat, probably could be done with fingers, even though he was given silverware. Dooku probably expected him to eat it with said silverware, but Luke had little inclinations for such things at the moment. “Hey, how far into the war do you think you’ll make?”

Dooku startled but to his credit, he barely showed his surprise. It could not have been a question that he was expecting. Luke didn’t think anyone could really expect that. “Excuse me?”

“When, during the war, do you think you will meet your demise?” Luke asked, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth. Dooku looked just a bit stunned, the difference between the Luke before and the Luke that was in front of him now. And, of course, the abrupt inquiry about Dooku’s lifespan. “I was thinking of starting a betting pool,” he paused as he chewed through some of the food and thought about it for a moment. “I’m gonna place my bets just rrrriiiiigghhhttt before the war ends.”

Dooku seemed rather curious but not in any way amused. “Why then?”

“By then,” Luke shrugged, not even giving him a glance as he ripped apart some of the bread. It was rather good stuff. “I imagine your master will no longer have a use for you.”

Then he said something that Luke didn’t completely understand or hear until much later, when he thought about it. “You are definitely related to Kenobi,” he had muttered, deep under his breath.

“What?” Luke sputtered.

Dooku led Luke down the halls, accompanied by a squad of battle droids silently. Their talk had been a bit long, as Dooku did not approve of the initial conversation. Luke had realized where he knew Zygerria, it was a slave planet. And that was what they talked about. Slaves. Slavery. Luke isn’t entirely sure how it comes about, how Dooku is willing to give so much, about their allies in the Zygerrians. It was a difficult conversation for Luke, one that he was fairly certain Dooku noticed and drew some conclusions of. But it was a conversation that Luke was a bit passionate about.

He had seen what slavery had done, what it was, on the planet he grew up on. He had heard the stories about his grandmother who had lived decades in it before finally able to be free. Before she fell in love and started a family when her first son became a jedi. He had heard about where his father had come from, what his father had done to free himself in a pod race.

He knows Dooku is having problems with the Queen of Zygerria. It is obvious, as they are being escorted to the planet. The count said he will make her see reason. Luke couldn’t help but smirk and gives him a little advice. She is a slaver; she will not cower before him. It is not in her nature.

Luke wasn’t entirely sure how the conversation ended, but it eventually did and Dooku had led him out of the room with a squad of droids. Backup? Perhaps. It didn’t matter. Dooku held the cards for now.

One of the droids opened a door and Dooku gestured for him to step inside. As they entered the room, Luke realized what it was. It was some sort of training room, something large and wide, with very few things that could hinder any movement. And as they did, a familiar hilt filled his vision. It was Ben’s saber.

“You do not have a lightsaber,” the Count noted. Well, wasn’t that obvious, Luke thought to himself, trying to temper the sarcasm that he felt was rolling off his tongue in waves. There was a reason he had been using Ben’s lightsaber. Sure, he was used to it, but then again, if he had his own, he would probably be used to that one as well.

“No.”

“But you are well acquainted on how to use one,” he continued his obvious statements, which irked the teenager a little bit. Gee, you think? Of course, he knew how to use one, Dooku had told him he had reviewed the footage of some of his fight with Krell. And he used a saber during the battle.

But Luke only shrugged. “Lit up end away from me. Stab. Swish, swish.”

Dooku looked down at him, unimpressed and skeptical with something else, something that made him think he was seeing through Luke’s façade. This was a bit different than the prim and perfectly mannered young man that had shared a meal with him the day prior. Would it put the Count off his game with the whiplash? Ah, Luke didn’t know, in particular, but it was rather fun.

“I suppose then, you will be needing this,” he replied instead, stiffly as he offered the saber. Luke quicky took hold of it, his fingers curling around the familiar grooves with a practiced motion. The Count just watched, curious.

“What do you want?”

“I would like to see an exhibition of your skills.”

“Why?”

“I am interested in seeing the difference between you and Skywalker, since you have both been trained by Kenobi.”

The difference. The difference. There was a lot. Luke was his father’s son, perhaps, and at one point, Luke would have absolutely relished in the similarities between his father and himself. At that one point, Luke used to desperately try to find those connections and comparisons. But after Luke knew the truth, after he knew what his father was and what he had become, Luke had just as desperately tried to find differences and distinctions. How hard it was, being in the biological lineage of such a monster.

Luke wondered how Ben would take it, waking up to a former padawan that wasn’t quite yet a monstrous maniac. How would he react then? Luke wasn’t sure how he felt about it at the moment. He had spent so much of his life wanting so much to know his father but finding out what he had become and what he had done, had been rather difficult. “I am your prisoner, not your entertainment,” Luke huffed as he narrowed his eyes.

“As my… prisoner. I hold all the cards,” Dooku replied, calmly, unperturbed by Luke’s scowl. “Behind that door,” he gestured across the room and Luke followed the movement with his eyes. “Are your clone troopers.”

Luke perked visibly. He couldn’t help it.

Droids came out from the sides of the room as Dooku continued. Luke just eyed them warily, trying not to move to look at them more directly. “The droids have been ordered to take that room and kill whoever is inside.”

Luke froze.

Dooku had known he had won this conflict, just as Luke glanced away in an unavoidable show of his defeat. “If you would prefer them still breathing, I suggest you do what I say and fight.”

He leaned closer.

“Their lives depend on it.”

Luke’s eyes were suddenly locked onto Dooku, cold and calculating for any signs of it being a bluff. He couldn’t take that chance. In the moment, Luke’s face became washed in the blue light of Ben’s lightsaber blade. He turned, spinning it around in a stretch and experiment as he surveyed the scene. At the moment, the droids were only B1s, he realized as his mind started up quickly as he scanned the area. Not any other kinds but he doubted it would stay that way.

Dooku was testing him.

Like leapt high into the fray, a perfect Aratu jump whirling Ben’s saver around in flawless arcs, his blade hitting his intended marks. He quickly made his way towards the door, taking out any droid he could. He had to take up a defensive position, wait them out, he thought, nearly hysterical.

He couldn’t let them die; he had been working so hard to keep them alive.

Boil. Boil. Boil.

Waxer. Waxer. Waxer.

Rex. Fives. Jesse. Tup. Check.

His silent chanted in his mind as he ruthlessly slashes through droids, trying to calculate everything in his head. Anger and frustration built up in his chest. He felt like was getting nowhere.

Something started to whisper.

Something dark and oily, with promises that weren’t verbal or understandable but somehow, he knew the intent. He stabbed a droid, his saber plunging down vertically and then viciously ripped it out, taking the head of another incoming. He had to calm down.

“There is no passion,” he exhaled, unsteady. “There is serenity.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, nearly reaching a semi good defensive position, he spotted Count Dooku frown.

The droids were thinning.

The victory did not last.

Out of the side doors, several B2 droids stormed in, already firing relentlessly. Luke leapt and landed on one, crushing it with his weight and saber, slicing through another nearby. He grinned. Dooku was going to be disappointed.

“There is no chaos,” he recited, feeling his heart slow into something enduring and steady. “There is harmony.”

Scattering few were left. Rolling droids screamed in, just a couple. Luke racked his brain for information. He didn’t remember what they were called but single shields, vulnerable when moving. He needed to figure a way to defend his position and destroy them. The boy forced pushed into another that landed them in a wall and went to attack the third type of droid. Running a bit further from the door was a risk but it worked. The droids folded up to move and chase. He dispatched them with swift grace.

Luke turned to grin at Dooku, a bit smug.

A single eyebrow was raised.

The teenager raised a hand, just a bit, and clenched his fist. Behind him, two droids strung up in the air by an invisible force and folded in on themselves, crushed. There was none left.

“Adequate,” Dooku acknowledged but he sounded a bit miffed.

Luke ignored him and ran to the door to check on his troopers. He stopped just as Count Dooku spoke, somehow making his voice louder without changing the tone or intonation.

“We are not done.”

Luke spun around, shoulders bristling and eyes blazing. This seemed to garner Dooku’s attention. “I did your stupid test. You said I could see them.”

“I did not,” Dooku replied and paused as the familiar traitorous besalisk came in sauntering like he owned the pace. He looked better than before, when he had been seen at dinner. The bruises from their fight had healed up and the stump where one of his arms used to be was cleanly bandaged. Luke narrowed his eyes.

“Oh look, it’s the traitor,” he grumbled, irritably.

Count Dooku allowed himself a smirk as he swept over to the former jedi to speak with him. He looked rather pleased with himself, like this was something he arranged, but trying to pass it off as chance. Luke knew better. He had almost certainly arranged this. “Ah… Krell. Just in time.”

“In time?” Krell asked.

“Would you like a rematch?”

“A rematch?”

If Krell didn’t stop echoing Count Dooku, Luke thought he might scream.

“With the young man who took your arm.” Krell realized what was being said and turned towards Luke, something gleeful and hungry in his eyes, as he figured out what was wanted from him. And it was something he was certainly happy to do it appeared. Not only a chance to beat Luke down in an environment where he would be superior, but also show off in front of the count.

Oh kriff.

Luke suppressed a wince and flared a glare at him instead to mask it. “I’d be delighted,” Krell practically purred. The teenager tried not to gag.

Luke’s eyes swept the room again. There was barely anything around here could actually use, much less something to his advantage. Discreetly, he swallowed. His chances for winning this one was even lower than the first time.

“Master Krell will get to kill what is behind that door,” Dooku added, gesturing to the door Luke had been defending. “If he defeats you.”

Luke’s heart raced.

Oh. OH.

It was easy to see Dooku’s game. He wanted Luke desperate, angry willing to do anything to save the troopers.

Dooku wanted him to use the dark side.

Or worse. Fall.

Ever since Luke had wrapped his head around who his father was, he had made a vow.

He would never Fall.

He wasn’t going to break that bow. Ever.

He won’t do that to Ben.

Krell didn’t seem to get it but then again, he probably didn’t know what was behind the door either. Luke took a deep breath.

In for four.

Out for seven.

In for four.

Out for eight.

Krell lit a saber, something sickly and bloody red. Dooku glanced at it, his face barely twitching. The besalisk grinned, a bit wild and more than a bit pleased.

Defensive position, Luke thought to start. He didn’t have to wait long for Krell to come at him. Even down an arm and with only one lightsaber, he was fast and strong. Luke could only try to be ready. It was just as hard as the last time, though, especially at the beginning, trying to defend against his barrage of attacks and blows. Krell’s physical strength was several times his own, with their respective species and Luke tried to calculate the best mix and match of moves and styles to meet him with between strikes.

Predictably, where Krell had strength and size that loomed over his opponent, Luke had speed and agility, moving in between the twirls of the saber, just at the right moment, which was absolutely crucial. Luke thought himself lucky. He was trained by Ben, a duelist whose greatest skill with a lightsaber was his impenetrable shield, not giving his opponent an opening to strike or move. Luke wasn’t as good at it, of course, but working with Ben and working with that style, he had to learn quickly where he could find and get through that type of shield and movements where there often appeared to be none.

Luke could find openings to at least avoid strikes, even with Ben. Avoiding Krell’s saber moves were practically easy in comparison.

Krell’s experience was an asset and a strength. The besalisk had been training since birth, he had decades on Luke of nonstop and constant training. Luke, however, quick to learn, had started late and wasn’t taught in the same environment. Ben didn’t have as much time to teach him, especially in the confines of their little ship. If he and Krell were in another environment, Luke might have been able to use his surroundings to his advantage. He may have had a chance.

He didn’t know how long the duel had lasted. He was pretty sure he had stood his own longer than he thought, but as all things, it had come to an end. In his case, hard, fast and cruel. Luke had a lot of endurance, Ben had certainly made sure of that, both physically and in the Force. Of course, his strength and connection to it, as it had rapidly grown over the years, had helped as well. Maybe Luke could have won this one, if things had been different.

But he was rather lucky Count Dooku seemed to want him alive.

Luke had been knocked to the ground, roughly, and a blade came down on his head. Upon rolling out of the way, he could feel the heat sizzle as it hit the floor instead, next to him. He blocked a few more blows but couldn’t seem to buy enough time to get up off the floor. Krell used the Force to make him rise before pushing him into the wall so hard it rattled his skull.

A red blade came down upon him again and Luke just couldn’t-

“Enough.”

Luke wasn’t sure what was happening, but Krell’s blade twisted and instead of cutting through his head, the saber scraped and grazed the opening between his gorget and his pauldron. Luke couldn’t help but let out a cry. It hurt, it was searing, and he could feel Krell’s satisfaction. Was it because he had beat Luke? Was it because he had wounded him? The boy tried to swallow down the pain, reaching out for the Force, for something, anything.

It helped soothe the pain, at least.

“You were meant to spar, not kill him,” Dooku’s lip curled in a bit of distaste, but his voice remained as poised and flat as always.

Krell just scoffed and let Luke fall to the ground, his back rubbing down the wall. Luke just tried to catch his breath as the besalisk’s attention went to the Count. “He’s not even Kenobi’s padawan. What could you possible want with this welp?”

Dooku’s eyes were cold but vaguely interested, like he saw something different. Luke didn’t even wait a moment more. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder, and ran to the door. He opened it and…

No one was in there.

Luke couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

“You lied to me.”

“A gamble,” Dooku strode up next to him and shrugged. “Jedi are soft-hearted fools, and they often pass that sentiment onto their children.”

Luke didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say.

“But you aren’t a jedi.”

He hated that Dooku was right. Ultimately, however, it didn’t matter. He would live like a jedi. To his last breath. And perhaps, even after.

“You do not use your full strength,” Dooku hummed as he continued. “If you had, it would have given you some advantage.” He didn’t say whether that advantage would have led him to victory or not. And it didn’t really matter.

“My full strength?”

“Your blows could be much more powerful, if you are open to it.”

“You mean if I open up to the dark side,” Luke guessed.

“There is far more power than the jedi are willing to open to,” Dooku replied, his eyes flashing with something so quick, he almost missed it.

Luke just heard Krell scowl. He didn’t know if the former jedi was listening or even heard them, but he didn’t like them speaking to one another. If he was looking for accolades, Luke thought, a bit petty, he would have to look elsewhere. It almost made him chuckle, as it was rather amusing. He wondered when the besalisk would finally get it.

Dooku didn’t want Pong Krell. He was pretty sure the Sith wanted Luke.

Luke just smirked to himself, out of the sight of the count. Dooku would end up rather disappointed.

Luke would never fall.

“Congratulations,” Dooku’s assistant said to Krell, monotone with a bit of flatness thrown in for good measure. Luke couldn’t tell if she meant it or not. “You just beat a fifteen-year-old non-jedi child in a duel of strength.”

Maybe not.

Krell just scowled again.

She turned, mechanically, towards her master. “My Lord, we are approaching Zygerrian space. We should be there within the hour.”

Dooku nodded and swiped Ben’s saber from Luke’s hand before the boy could even try to keep it away. Pain raced down his chest and shoulders, through his arm. “We will be having dinner with the Zygerrian Queen,” he informed him, briskly. “I expect you to join. You will not attempt to flee or contact the Republic. Do not even think about it. Do not speak unless directly spoken to. Any attempts at sabotage – at any level – will result in the torture and expectation of the clone troopers. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“My assistant will take you back to our room,” he continued, calmly. “You are to shower and dress with what is laid before you. She will give you some bacta for your wound. Clean it well. You will go to the bridge and await arrival,” Dooku added. “Understood?”

“Yes, of course lord,” Luke grumbled as he tried to temper his glare. “I do want something from you.”

“You may request.”

“I want confirmation about my troopers, that they haven’t been harmed.”

“My word isn’t enough?”

Luke snorted.

“Alright. I will send for my assistant to arrange someone to come by with proof,” he said after a long moment. “As I said, if you do anything, I will kill them.”

Luke grinned at him, all blood and teeth. “I understand. But Count, you should also know. If anything happens to them, you will not only lose my cooperation, but you may find that you lose more appendages than you care to miss.”

With a swish of his cape and a gesture for Krell to follow, Dooku was gone, leaving Luke, weaponless, surrounded by destroyed battle droids and an evil subordinate. She did not waste time, as she turned towards the door, barely pausing to ensure his path to follow. He just sighed and obeyed, trying to keep the pain as dull and to a minimum as he could. Not a word was spoken on their way back. As they reached the destination, she gave him instructions and a map to the bridge. Other areas were to be locked and or blocked off to him.

“It would be prudent to travel straight to your destination.” She gave him a small package and then she was gone.

Luke stripped, slow and methodical, carefully stacking his armor pieces neatly on the bed. He winced as he looked at them. They were in a bit of rough shape. He felt a little bad for taking them without asking.

But it had saved his life at the very least once on Umbara.

His finger trailed a gouge in the gorget as he set it down on the sheets. He took off his robes, sweaty, damp and dirty and folded them neatly. Taking deep and soothing breathes, he stepped into the shower and turned it to water. It was nice to get the sand out of his hair from the storm he and Ben had been stuck in and to wash the blood from his skin. Although he had wrapped the saber wound, it still hurt something awful as he showered. He didn’t take an abnormally long time, as eight years on Tatooine had instilled a need to conserve water, whether he meant to or not. He still used it instead of the sonic, however. It may have been rather petty but he kind of thought to use some of it so there would be less for Dooku and whatever other sentients were aboard.

He stepped out and grabbed a towel, drying himself off rather thoroughly. He rubbed and shook excess water from his hair and then washed his face. It had been quite some time since he had felt this clean. The shower was nice.

Luke got a hold of the bacta and put it over the lightsaber graze. The immediate feeling was agony at contact, and he leaned over the counter with a low, pained, groan. It took a few moments for the bacta to release some relief. After several moments of catching his breath and regaining himself, he left the lavatory and ran his eyes over the clothes that had been set out. His lip curled, subtly. Dark, ornate, high collar. Fancy.

Luke just rolled his eyes but conceded and carefully put them on. He couldn’t just play with the men’s lives, especially not with something so trivial as clothes. They were a bit large, he noted. He wondered who they had been originally made for. Luke winced. Oh, he was going to look a bit like Dooku, wasn’t he? The thought was a mite repulsive.

As he finished buttoning up, he looked down at the stack of armor pieces, his eyes once again tracing over every scratch and gouge. He had made a mess of it, he thought. He almost wished he was on a more conventional battlefield. Not this battle of wit and manipulation.

He needed a plan.

He wanted Ben.

Taking a few minutes to just breathe and mingle with the Force, he reached out – both in it and physically – grabbed hold of the pauldron.

He near dropped it immediately, his knees plummeting to the floor, alongside his breath.

Because… because…

Could it be?

It had to be.

He didn’t know how he knew but it just had to be.

Ben was alive. And he was awake.

He was coming. Luke was sure of it.

Even though he wanted to, for in search of the troopers, he went straight to the bridge. No one stopped him. Droids barely cast him a glance. He paused at the door of the room, far enough that it would not open automatically as of yet. He took a deep breath.

“There is not emotion,” he breathed. “There is peace.”

Luke might have laughed if the situation was not so dire. He loved the look on Count Dooku’s face. If only he could freeze it, to show it to Ben. It wouldhave made him laugh and Luke would have loved it.

“I told you to wear that was set out for you.” Count Dooku said, stiff with a click of his jaw. Of course, no one could quite tell what the count was thinking, least of all Luke, but one thing was for certain, he was not particularly happy.

“And I am.”

Goodness, he was such a smartass.

“You are wearing plastoid clone armor,” Dooku pointed out, clearly disapproving of that fact.

“I am your prisoner, Count, not your ally. It would be best to make sure others know, don’t you think? So, they don’t get the wrong ideas?” he suggested, slyly.

And there it was. The barest hint of a scowl. Was it bad that it felt like a victory? There was nothing more to say after that and Luke could only follow as the Count went to one of his ships. It was a little larger than his single fighter, as they were joined by the assistant and the former jedi traitor. The ride down was quiet. And no little amount of awkward and terrible.

Zygerria is…not beautiful. And that is Luke saying that who had found even some beauty in his home planet of Tatooine, one of near complete desert. There is something about the buildings, about the atmosphere that puts Luke on edge. He knows it is a slave planet, probably even more so than the home planet that he knows personally.

They landed near the palace, a giant building that towered above all others and stretched quite far. Krell kept a very strict eye on him as they walked through, Zygerrians in armor milling around. Dooku barely paid him any attention. He knew for a fact that Luke wouldn’t try anything.

Led into the throne room, a Zygerrian woman sat high above. The throne was rather ridiculous with a multitude of steps. Luke hoped they didn’t have to go up all of them. It would take forever.

He was kept out of the way by Dooku’s assistant as he spoke, prim and proper and nothing else. Luke could hear the distain, but it was covered quite thoroughly with flattery and demand. As he continued to speak, the besalisk traitor at his side, Luke looked around and studied the soldiers and guards, looking for weakness in both them and the building in him. He had to figure out where the troopers were.

By the time he came back to the present, most had disappeared, including Krell and many of the guards. The Queen had looked at him, her piercing eyes seeming to look straight into him. He shuttered. With a single finger – talon? – she gestured him over. Count Dooku stiffened and took a step back.

Swallowing harshly, Luke strode over.

“And who might you be?”

Luke tried not to gag and wrinkle his nose. He’d almost be anywhere but here at the moment. But he kept a great façade of delight and respect. She would get nothing from him. Her accent was grating, but that could be his bias against slave traders, which could only make him feel worse as he knows she is the queen of them. “Luke,” he introduced as he bowed. “Your grace.”

“Your majesty,” she corrected. There was a smile on her face, something faint and vaguely amused. The slight was not taken too badly, probably because of his young age and perceived naivety. But that did not mean he wouldn’t go above and beyond with his excuses.

“A thousand apologies, your majesty,” Luke amended, as he laid it on thick after the slight as he gave a bow. It was stiff and just deep enough to not continue the disrespect. He was holding himself so tense he thought he might just snap in half. “I cannot claim to have had the privilege of visiting, your lovely planet before.”

“It is a good thing you are here, now, isn’t it, child?” she giggled, light and faint. It was the perfect sound coming from a queen, but he just could not stand it; he couldn’t even stand the sight of her, much less the sound of her voice. “Even if you are a Republic agent.”

Luke just smiled, keeping his voice level and calm, just like Ben had taught him. Don’t show anything aside from what they want to know. “I fight with the troopers, that is all there is to it.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, he was fighting alongside the clone troopers, even if it had just been one battle.

“Perhaps we can persuade you otherwise.”

“I am a mere prisoner of Serenno’s count,” he admitted with his smile continuing to be a bit tight and tense. He had to think of something and fast. These people thought of power and money and little else. Contracts, contracts. “Loyalty cannot be bought over once a contract is sighed.”

Count Dooku raised an eyebrow.

He thought Luke slipped up, the teenager realized. Gave him information that he could use. Perhaps he did. But Luke thought about that, even as he made up his words, he wouldn’t find anything. There was nothing Dooku could get out of it, unless he tried to torture it out of Luke. There was no paper trail to find or follow. It was a contract to himself, to the Force, to Ben. A vow. Luke’s loyalty was to not be swayed.

“A child with honor,” she mused with a smirk. She found that amusing, he could tell. He hated the way she said it, like it was something pathetic and stupid, juvenile. “How intriguing. Would you like to join us for dinner? The talk may be dreadfully boring, but the food will be rather delightful.”

“I relish the opportunity to expand my palette,” he replied as he straightened his back. He kept his eyes just barely below her line of sight. And there was at least some truth to that. He did like trying new foods. “I am to go wherever the Count wills at this time.”

“Count?” The Queen questioned as her gaze swept over towards the Sith several meters behind and to the right of him. Luke glanced back at him with something in his eye that could only be interpreted as impish, like Luke was up to something. The Count’s back was absolutely straight, and his expression gave away absolutely nothing.

“He will be in attendance, your majesty.”

“Excellent,” she practically purred. “I look forward to it.”

Luke didn’t. In fact, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be attending at all.

Count Dooku tossed him in a room, gave him some instructions and notifications and then left. Luke just sighed. He wasn’t entirely sure what exactly the Count wanted from him. It didn’t take long, however, for Luke to find a way out of the room and take it he did.

The palace itself was difficult to navigate, but first things first. He reached out in the Force. What he was looking for was something he knew well, something that sang to him, which made it easier to follow. Ben had taught him long ago how to use the Force to keep others’ attention away from him and although he still used it, he also physically tried to keep out of sight of the guards and soldiers.

He found it in a room, possibly Dooku’s guest room, possibly not. It was hard to tell. Luke was just glad that the Count didn’t have it on him. No, Ben’s lightsaber was sitting on a dresser in the room, next to some paperwork. Grabbing the light saber of his guardian, he shoved it deep into his robes, out of sight and paused, before grabbing the paper too. Perhaps it would be helpful in some way. Then he slipped out of the door. Going back down the hall, the voice he heard…he would never forget it. He had never heard the Sith’s voice before, not in his time, but he knows it. And for the first time, he just cannot move.

“Long has Sith empires been built on the backs of slaves,” a man drawled. Luke swallowed and glanced around the corner through the door, just barely. He quickly spun back, so he was not to be seen. He was wearing a cloak in the holo call, something wrinkly and old underneath it. “To carry on this tradition…we will require… millions.”

He was talking about slaves. Slaves.

Luke had seen firsthand how the Sith’s plans had come to fruition. He would not let it happen this time. Not when he was around, armed with the knowledge to stop it. Whether or not he had the ability, it didn’t matter. He had to try.

“I assure the Queen’s defiance will not sour your plans,” Dooku assured.

The Sith practically scoffed. “If she fails to see the error of her ways, end her rule.”

Luke didn’t wait a moment further. He quickly ran off, trying to keep his noise to an absolute minimum. He held his breath in until he got a plenty amount of way, he let it out, nearly hyperventilating. Because he got the breath out, he had a hard time getting it back in. It took him several minutes to recatch his breath. He stood up with the help of the wall.

“I don’t think you are supposed to be out here, kiddo,” a female voice called out from behind him, and Luke turned around to face her, keeping himself slower and calm to not bring up any more suspicion. She was leaning causally against the wall, by a corner, appearing fairly unperturbed with a smirk stretching her lips. Short hair, a jumpsuit, some necklace that dipped underneath the first layer of her clothes.

“Why do you think that?” he asked, rearranging his posture to make it seem like he wasn’t caught off guard, that he was supposed to be there. It didn’t really work.

“Smooth,” she chuckled as she shook her head. “I can’t imagine the Separatists or their allies willingly letting a jedi roam around,” she pointed out.

A gamble.

“I am not a jedi.”

She looked curious and unconvinced, but still amused. “Right,” she drawled as she stood up from the lean against the wall. She took a step towards him, and it took everything he had not to step back. “I’m actually here for you.”

“Oh?”

“You wanted an update on your troopers.”

Luke perked; he couldn’t help it. It may have given him away, but she appeared to know about him anyways. “Dooku sent you?”

She shrugged. “Sort of. Not really.”

“Are you going to snitch on me?” he asked, warily.

She cackled in a short laugh, like she found that concept absolutely hilarious. There was more to her than met the eye. He wondered who she was, and, if he had an ally in her. “Nah kid. Let’s go to your room to talk though.”

“I can’t see them?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?” he asked, suspicious and anger bristling in his shoulders. He was frustrated. It had been near over a day since he had been able to see the troopers and he wanted to know if they were alright. That Dooku hadn’t done something horrible to them the moment his back had been forced to turn. He was trying to keep them alive, and it was incredibly discouraging, and infuriating being blocked at every turn.

She sighed and gestured down the hall for him to follow her. “Come on.”

Grudgingly, he followed her. He didn’t have much of a choice. He may not have liked it but there was little he could do. She kept walking and he just tried to study her. The more time passed on, the more Luke was convinced he knew her.

“You aren’t one of Dooku’s people.”

“Nope.”

“You aren’t a Zygerrian.”

“What gave it away?” she chuckled.

He snorted. “Who are you?”

“Zora.”

“Any last name to that?”

She shot him a grin. “Does it really matter?”

He huffed, pushing down the growing irritation. For this, for what was happening, for Dooku and Krell and all the things he was going through. Things he could not yet change. “Maybe. You aren’t a Zygerrian or one of Dooku’s people so who are you?”

“I told you. Zora.”

He sighed, exasperated.

She surprised him with her next question. “Are you from the 501st or the 212th?”

“What?”

“You have 501stand 212th troopers with you,” she noted.

“How…?”

“Which one is yours?”

“Neither?”

“Whose padawan are you?”

“Spy or jedi?”

She startled, but just barely. He probably wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t been taught by Ben, who was very good at picking up cues of possible allies and possible enemies. “Be careful kid. Accusations like that can get you or anyone else, killed.”

Luke rolled his eyes as they got back to his room. As if he didn’t know that. But this, he was sick of not getting answers out of anyone. She started to look around, hands running along the walls and table. He stayed silent.

Zora, on the other hand, had no such inclinations. “So, ah…you didn’t answer my question. Whose padawan are you?” she asked, glancing over at him with a knowing smirk.

“Do I looklike I have any semblance of a padawan braid?” he grumbled, resentfully. He couldn’t quite help it. It was easier to not be, at least when Ben was around and teaching him and just being there. Even if he wasn’t actually Ben’s padawan, it was hard not to be upset about it. It’s what he wanted so much, for so long. He didn’t dare think of the possibilities, being in this time with the Order around.

“Oooohhh,” Zora smirked again, her eyebrows waggling in knowing. She didn’t understand, obviously, because no one really could. Not with his situation, really, but there was something about her that was different. Luke had to know her from somewhere. Somehow. “Someone is a little bitter. Left, kicked out or not chosen?” she asked, continuing to go through the room, opening drawer and checking the things inside.

He stiffened, still standing in the middle of the room, his gaze hardening. “I never really had a chance.” That was truth, not that she could get what he was saying. There was no jedi where he is from. Or rather, when. Hunted and killed off for having an ability with the Force. For trying to help people. All because two beings wanted everything, put what they wanted above millions and trillions of lives.

“Ooookkkkaaayyyy,” she drawled out again but something in her face sobered up. He fought himself, trying to go through all of Ben’s stories on who this could possibly be. It had to be someone Ben told him about. That was the only explanation. “What are you doing with those troopers?”

“Fighting.”

“Not a jedi, not a clone. Too young to be an officer. Who are you?”

“Luke.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m Luke.”

“You can’t be that dense,” she muttered and then stopped trifling through the room but there was a smirk. She saw what he was doing. Throwing her answers back in her face with his own, mirroring it. “Okay, we are clean.”

“Clean? We?”

“There aren’t any bugs or cameras,” she supplied and walked closer, pulling up a chair and sitting down. She gestured for him to do the same. He paused but obeyed, sitting in front of her so he could study her features, trying to figure out what he wanted to know. “So that means we can speak freely, although admittedly, still a bit quiet and careful. Who are you?”

“Luke.”

She groaned and sighed, leaning on the back of her chair. She was projecting some kind of mix of amusement and irritation. “Come on kid. Give me something to work with!”

“Are you a spy or jedi?”

She looked back at him, surprised. “What?”

“Spy or jedi?”

“What makes you think-,” she started but after a moment she just sighed again. She ran a hand through her short hair, glancing around, as if worried. Even though she had checked the room for listening devices and cameras, she was still a bit paranoid. “Both, I suppose.”

“A shadow,” he supplied with his guess. Ben had told him plenty about them, several of his friends and acquaintances went that route. “That narrows it down.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. It did. If she knew Ben, he could figure out who she was.

“Do I know you?”

“No.”

“But you know me.”

“Not exactly. I might know of you. I’m not sure,” he admitted, truthfully.

“Well, you aren’t giving your identity and I’m not ready to give up mine so we can skip that for now. Why were you sneaking around? You weren’t escaping and if anyone caught you…big trouble. What was worth the risk?” She was curious, for certain, trying to discern something from him.

He hesitated and produced Ben’s light saber hidden deep in his robes.

She gasped but immediately tried to stifle it. He knew, she knew. “That’s…”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi’s lightsaber, yes,” he said, his mouth now dry so his voice came out in some of a bit of a croak. Zora looked between him and the saber multiple times, trying to keep her eyes from widening so much.

“How did you get that?” she hissed with vigor. Luke blinked; he wasn’t exactly expecting that. “How did get Dooku get this? Is he…” she trailed off, uncertain. She couldn’t ask the question.

“He’s not here,” Luke replied, and he was silently so thankful that he wasn’t. On one hand, he could definitely use Ben’s help. He could just use him around. But, Luke didn’t know what state he was in and he certainly did not want Count Dooku to take any type of advantage of his guardian. “And he’s not dead as far as I know. He should be on his own ship, safe.”

“But his saber…” she murmured.

“It’s a long story,” he replied instead. Really, he just didn’t want to explain it. He had suspicions about who she was, but he couldn’t be sure yet, he had to wait and think. There was something about her voice, how she spoke when she saw Ben’s saber…. He shook his head. “You said something about my troopers?”

She glanced at him with renewed skepticism. Probably not the right terms, he thought. He wasn’t technically part of either group. “Well, they are all alive and unharmed,” she said bringing out a clunky comm and laid it in his hand. “Two number comm, direct line. You can’t see them, so you’ll have to take it on word that they are not injured.”

He nodded and swallowed, dialing.

They picked up a little slow.

Luke’s anxiety spiked. “H-Hello?”

A pause.

“Waxer? Are you there?”

Finally, finally. “Thank everything that is good, you are alive kid.” It was Waxer’s voice; Luke could identify it. He had paid so much attention to his voice since he had met him, Luke thought he could very possibly pick him out of a group of anyone. Identical faces or voices or not. Whatever, it didn’t matter. He had made a point to know his voice as best he could. Boil’s best friend.

“Waxer,” Luke sighed in relief as he realized with a fond smile. He almost felt like he was going to start crying from relief. He had near thought he would never be able to get to even just talk to them again. “I’m okay,” he promised. “Dooku talked with me, nothing too bad, and then locked me in a room by myself. I’m on Zygerria now.” He didn’t tell him about the Krell rematch; there was no reason to worry them.

“So are we,” another voice made its way through. Gruffer, more solid.

“Rex,” Luke said as he took a moment to put his finger on the voice. “Is everyone there? Are you alright? Dooku didn’t harm you, did he?”

“Dooku didn’t do anything,” Rex vowed.

“Can we do a roll call?”

“Uh…kiddo, we sound all the same,” someone chuckled, uneasily.

“Er… not exactly…” Luke admitted with a smile, but he felt a bit uncomfortable with the line of talk and conversation. “I can tell. I promise. “Please?”

“I’m here, as you know,” Waxer said, his voice kind and soft. Luke relished in the feeling, and he thought he would never get used to the intonation. He completely understood why this person was Boil’s best friend.

“And you heard me, Rex,” the captain replied.

“Yes,” Luke nodded.

“Boys?” Rex called, a bit quiet, like he was further away from the comm.

“Checkerboard reporting, sir.”

“Fives,” another grumbled.

“Jesse.”

“Tup,” his voice was a tad bit timid.

“Okay,” Luke sighed again in relief. That was all of them, that was all of them. That was a good to have that reassurance. “Okay. Good. Good.”

“How…how are you talking to us, Luke? Who is listening?”

“No worries,” Luke said, quickly, shooting a glance at his companion. “Just a jedi shadow. We are okay. Look,” he started, suppressing a wince at his lack of a current workable plan. “I’m trying to work on a plan to get us out of here. Since we are on planet and not in space, it might be easier.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“I’m no explosives expert,” he hummed in admittance. “But with the things I can scrounge up here, I think I can make a distraction. A pretty big distraction.”

“I like the way you’re thinking, sir,” Jesse replied, and Luke knew he was grinning. He rolled his eyes.

“Zygerria is a slave planet,” Rex replied, his voice slow and careful. “We won’t find any allies here or a way to get off the planet, easily.”

“The Republic is coming,” Luke vowed. And he knew it.

“How do you know?”

“I passed intel to the Council,” Zora leaned in so her voice would come through. “They know about Dooku, and they know that you are here too,” Zora explained. “They should be on their way here. A day, tops.”

“Even if they have both the 501st and the 212th at full strength, I don’t think they can take a planet like this,” the voice, Rex, he was pretty sure, sounded unsure, probably in turn of the unknown newcomer.

Luke swallowed. “Ben has been through this before. He knows.”

“What?” Fives startled.

“Ben?” Zora muttered, questioningly.

“Luke, General Kenobi is in a coma,” Waxer pointed out, gentle and patient.

Zora startled, sudden and she stared at him, eyes wider than he had seen anyone. She was shocked, worried. She knew him, she knew Ben. Which meant that Luke knew him. He must have heard of her from Ben’s stories. That makes her identity easier to determine. “What?” she whispered. “Obi…”

Luke tried to ignore her for now. He didn’t have the time to confront her or anything right now. He had to focus on the troopers and their escape. “He will come. I know it. I have faith in the Force, and I have faith in him.”

There was pause of silence and a sigh.

“Okay. I get you. Me too, I have faith in General Kenobi,” Waxer replied.

“And I’m not sure how much information Master Vos got from Ben with his psychometry,” Luke added. “But that might help too.”

“Psycho…?”

“Obnoxiously Long Explanations. They can come later,” Luke vowed, waving his hand. “Suffice to say, he will come.”

“Alright,” Rex said. “I believe you.”

“We do,” Tup added.

There was a scowl.

“You are hiding things.” Luke couldn’t quite make out the name of the clone for a long moment, but he went through what he knew about all of them and finally came to conclusion. The speaker had been Fives. Curious, intelligent, persistent and stubborn.

“If we make it out of this alive, I will tell you all you want to know, Fives,” Luke vowed, absolutely serious. Hopefully they would survive this. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about telling any of the 501st about what was happening, especially those close to Anakin Skywalker, but it was a price he could pay for their trust and cooperation.

Another silence and then concede. “Alright.”

“You didn’t tell him.”

Waxer didn’t know who spoke but there was an accusatory undertone. It was noted. He didn’t look around at them, just stared at the comm. “I didn’t want him getting upset to lose focus,” Waxer tried to refute. He kept a hold of the comm that had been given to them, his fingers curling over the surface. This was such a mess.

“You think that would upset him so much?” That was Check, Waxer knew. The undertone of his voice was a bit touched but there was no little amount of worry coming from. Waxer wasn’t entirely sure how to explain without saying everything that he knew.

“He’s from Tatooine,” Waxer croaked.

“So?”

Rex eyed him warily. He knew something, understood something, some kind of inference he got from Waxer’s statement. Waxer felt his heart speed up a little. He knew that Luke didn’t want others to know right now what was happening, he had made a note to keep it from the 501st. Waxer wasn’t entirely sure why, but he had quickly learned he could trust Luke. But Rex knew something, and Waxer couldn’t help but be worried on how much he would have figured out. It wasn’t all too surprising; Rex was smart and Cody loved him. “It is a slave planet,” Rex noted.

“Was he…”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Waxer responded quickly, staring at Rex directly in the eye. They kept eye contact for some time. “But Luke joined the battle on Umbara in an attempt to keep me alive. He had never been in a battle or war like that before, but he just jumped in. What do you think he would do if he found out about us now, in the situation we are facing?”

“He can’t care that much,” someone said. Waxer was still staring at Rex, so he wasn’t entirely sure who had responded to him. The skepticism was clear, but Waxer knew better. He knew how Luke talked about them, all excited. He knew the way he had ran and jumped and practically tackled Boil when he saw them on their ship, so happy and so excited to see him again. Waxer had little trouble realizing how much Luke loved in general. How much Luke cared about them already.

“Trust me. He does,” Waxer finally pulled his eyes away from Rex and sat down on the ground, his armor creaking. He imagined they would soon be taken to a facility and have the armor stripped from them and he dreads that moment. The uneasy and uncomfortable feeling that comes with not wearing armor in a hostile environment is not a pleasant one.

“What does that mean?”

“Fives…” Rex warned. Waxer saw him out of the corner of his eye. The captain’s brow furrowed

“I am sick of all the cryptic words and lies!” Fives pressed. “He knows something, and it makes me think, you know about it too, Captain.”

Rex swallowed. “I don’t know much.”

“But you know something.”

“Luke said he would tell you everything you want to know later,” Waxer said.

“Why can’t you just tell us now!?”

“You really think this is the best place for secrets?”

Every one of them snapped their mouths shut when the door opened and several Zygerrians came in, including the one that had technically bought them. It took a while, as the troopers weren’t the most compliant, but the Zygerrians did force them out of the room and into another. Waxer had a bad feeling about this.

“I hear you have secrets,” one of them said in a heavy accent.

“Our allies will pay well for Republic secrets,” another hissed.

Oh kriff.

“I think I know who you are.”

The words came out of Luke’s mouth before his mind had caught up with him. He and Zora had collected a few things for their rather, a bit explosive, plan and were scurrying around the halls, to enact it. They hadn’t talked much about other things aside from said plan during the time, but Luke was having a hard time keeping quiet. He just had to know.

“Oh?” Zora asked, rather amused. “Funny, I am pretty sure I don’t know you.”

“You wouldn’t,” he shrugged. “It is a rather long story. But Ben has told me a lot about many of his friends.”

“Ben as in…Obi-Wan…” she said slowly. She carefully placed an explosive near a column, out of sight. It would be hard to find it before it would be detonated. They had to be careful. Once it was done, they momentarily hid, away from a coming patrol of guards.

“Yes,” Luke whispered an affirmation.

“How do you know him?”

“Obnoxiously Long Explanation.”

“I heard you tell one of the clones that,” she noted. “What does that mean?”

“Just as it says. It’s kind of a game that Ben and I have played,” Luke explained, vaguely but there was a fond smile on his lips as he thought about all the times he had gone through that with Ben. Zora had obviously noticed.

“I didn’t know Obi-Wan had taken on another padawan,” she suggested.

Luke glanced away with a frown. “He didn’t,” he muttered. “Come on.” He gestured for her to follow as he moved through the halls further, tossing another small explosive in another hiding spot.

She seemed to know and understand that it was a sore spot and let it go. He knew he would not last. “You mentioned you think you know who I am,” she said, putting another of their bitty contraptions in another.

“That’s the last one,” he murmured. “The dinner should start soon. We need to figure out where the troopers are.”

“I can lead you to them,” Zora replied.

“Don’t you have to continue your mission?”

“My mission had already ended. Things had been sidetracked when the ship I was on didn’t go to the rendezvous point and was rather diverted when the Zygerrian queen sent our ship to Dooku’s. We’re good,” she explained, glancing at him with a smile. “I’ve got your back.”

Zora took the lead and started to bring him through the palace to the outside. Luke swallowed, uneasily. He knew he could trust her, but he didn’t like the feeling he got where they were hiding. They were out of the palace now, moving towards some of the other outbuildings nearby.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said, after a while.

“It wasn’t a question.”

“Who do you think I am.”

Luke glanced down and smiled warmly. “He talked about you, in several instances. The jumpsuits, the short hair, the warming crystal that you are wearing around your neck.”

Zora narrowed her eyes.

“Ben talked about you. He carried the crystal on him for a long time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you,” he shot her another grin, practically beaming. “I am very happy to be able to meet you. A lot more excited than I am allowed to be and show right now. You are just as amazing and snarky as Ben said, Siri Tachi.”

Luke had nearly fallen over when he felt it. He had reached out into the Force, for the troopers, just as an assurance. He had been met with pain. His head had turned and stared at his companion, wide-eyed and fearful. Her mouth was moving, probably questions. He didn’t hear them. Instead, he just started to run.

They were hurting. They were hurting. They were hurting. Someone was hurting them. All he had wanted to do was get them through this. He just wanted to get them through this. How could he possibly failing so much so hard?

Fail. Fail. Fail.

He failed so spectacularly.

Getting into the small building was easy. Many guards were at the dinner for the Queen and the Count, well, guarding them. But Luke ran through without care, knocking any guard they came across, at the very least, unconscious. His heart had completely dropped when he had stepped inside. Because he knew what this place was, right when he saw the people that inhabited it.

A slaves’ quarters.

Not just that, a temporary one. Ones who were being sent off to auction.

“Free them!” he yelled.

His companion knew what he meant and immediately went to unlock the cages, using the force to take off the collars. Luke kept running. The urgency, the urgency, he had to move. Slamming open one of the doors – oh, they felt so close! – he had bowled over one of the Zygerrians, whipping out his saber and taking several limbs off of several more. They stood little chance. His shoulder and arm was burning like nothing before and it felt like he couldn’t quite breathe.

He didn’t stop until they were all on the floor, dead or unconscious.

“Hey, Luke you, okay?”

That was Waxer’s voice. Luke nearly wanted to cry. He didn’t want to look at them, at the damage done. He didn’t know if he said anything, but Waxer continued.

“We are okay, kiddo,” he kept going. “A few light electrical burns and some bruises, but nothing serious. I promise.”

Luke could still hear the yelling. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, going through exercises and jedi mantra. He did this for several moments before he finally got the courage to glance up at them. All six of them, on their feet without aid. Waxer hadn’t been lying but that didn’t make things hurt any less.

Because he saw what was on their necks.

He had seen them before. On Tatooine when Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru had dared to bring him into town during their errands. On several backwater planets, controlled by Hutts or slavers or the scum of the galaxy, he and Ben had to stop at. He had nearly seen one on his own neck once. He had, however briefly, had seen one on Ben’s.

No, Luke would not fall.

But perhaps they would wish that was all he did.

“Dooku should die for this,” Luke croaked out as he stared at them. His vision was blurry. Tears, again, he suspected.

There was some talking. Luke didn’t hear it. All he heard was the crunching of the collars that were on their necks, falling off as Luke clenched with both his fist and in the force. Someone was holding his hand. He didn’t know who it was.

“So, what are we doing? It’s up to you, Luke,” someone was talking. Luke couldn’t tell who it was, perhaps he wasn’t listening hard enough. He wasn’t paying attention much. “Are we going to try our hand at escape? Or are we making an attempt on the Count’s life?”

#revolving suns au #time travel #fix it #time travel fix it #protective luke skywalker #luke skywalker #clone trooper waxer #waxer #captain rex #jesse #fives #tup #clone trooper jesse #clone trooper fives #clone trooper tup #revolving suns

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obaby-wan · 4 years

Text

Unlawful

Summary: Anakin is still a novice and Obi-Wan goes on solo missions. That is until the Council gives him a particular assignment, and he requests you to join him - posing as a couple. You had not seen much of your close friend since he lost his Master, and the mission serves as an interesting reunion.

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

Wordcount: 9.5k I AM SORRY

Rating: T?

Warnings: Hurt? Slavery, child trafficking, mention of kidnapping. Someone inappropriately approaches Reader. Please let me know if forget something. But otherwise rather safe, basically soft fluff with a plot(ish).

Notes: I’ve done it! I’ve posted my first fic EVER, thanks to @maybege! This was her request for a fake marriage!Obi-Wan, which was a very scary and challenging and intimidating request given that it is the basis of her Play Pretend series, but I am overall quite proud of what I have produced. Naturally, any feedback is very much welcomed. Thank you!

Tags: @maybege @profkenobi maybe? If you have time and are interested and want to make a little me very happy but no pressure

You put down three cups and the teapot you had prepared, the smoky aroma steaming out from its mouth. Your life-long best friend Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan were seated across from you in your quarters, the young one still recovering from the training session he just finished with other younglings, his arms crossed and lips pouting. Obi-Wan has approached you earlier with a mission brief, suggesting - no, requesting, really - that you accompany him. Without his padawan. This earned you both a resentful silent treatment from him ever since said padawan has arrived and learned that he will not be needed. You, on the other hand, were internally as giddy and excited as Anakin was moody. You had only recently been knighted yourself. Your solo mission count was now steadily increasing, their success rate following the same trend. Yet, you still welcomed new assignments with the same eagerness you had in your early padawan days. Not to mention that this time, it seemed you will be partnering with your favourite Jedi master.

“Don’t look so frustrated, Anakin. Your first mission will come sooner than expected.” You smiled at the young boy, your words doing nothing to alleviate the frown between his brows. “Honey?”

He nodded in agreement, extending his hand to accept the cup you offered. You slide Obi-Wan his cup and put yours down in front of you, twirling the liquid around in an attempt to accelerate the cooling process. No honey for neither of you. Not with smoked teas. “Only fruited infusions deserve a bit of sweetness” He once told you. You had thought the words he spilled over your tea conversations were enough of a sweetener.

“Maybe I could come and pretend to be your son?” Anakin’s voice was small, hopeful. This pulled a laughter out of you and Obi-Wan, his smiling eyes meeting yours. The mission he was assigned involved infiltrating the court of a powerful king in the outer-rim, thought to be the general quarters of a slave trafficking ring. Young, underage slave traffic, to be specific, which explained why Obi-Wan would not let Anakin join. You wondered if he even told him about the nature of this mission. Your presence was requested to play to role of his spouse. The king was soon hosting his bi-yearly public exposition of newly acquired slaves, presenting them to potential buyers and you were to pose as a couple of such. It could have been a solo mission, but the king had a harem of wife whom the council suspected to be heavily involved in the court’s internal affair, and only women were allowed to interact with the spouses. That is why and where you were stepping in.

Obi-Wan shook his head, putting a hand on his padawan’s shoulder. “It is better you stay here, little one. Focus on your training. Besides, I believe you will be in possession of your lightsaber when we get back - and I expect you to be able to strike me down on our next spar”. They both smirked at the unspoken challenge.

“Is that true?” You took a zip of tea. “I was not aware you were already chosen to be in the next shuttle to Ilum. That is impressive”. The young boy’s chest puffed up with pride. “Master Yoda said it was learning too fast for the youngling group I am with!”

You glanced at Obi-Wan. Anakin building his own lightsaber meant he will have to take his training more into hands, relying less on common lessons with other young Jedi. Which also means that the time of his solo missions was short-lived and coming to an end soon. You were honored to be part of what could even be his last padawan-less assignment. Yes, this will definitely be an entertaining mission, a reminiscence of your mischiefs and adventures before you were both knighted.

You’ve know Obi-Wan for almost all your life, having arrived at the Jedi temple around the same moon as him. You were probably in the same crèche, although you did not have much recollection of that time. No, your friendship with him genuinely blossomed on the very same occasion that Anakin will soon face – the Kyber harvesting on Ilum. You were both selected for the same trip, the two youngest of your training group, and the two bests. A friendly competition ensued, which over time grew into a deeper complicity, unspoken rivalry trying to best each other’s records, pressed lips failing to suppress giggles when sneaking into the kitchen past bed time, understanding glances across training rooms when one would get caught and chastised, longing and warm reunions after your respective missions during your years as padawans and – support and understanding when he lost Qui-Gon, a dozen moons ago.

You had been the one to cut his braid off. You had taken the habit to keep your quarters unlocked for nights when meditation would no longer suffice to tone down the guilt and the grief he felt, preferring to spill his sadness to you over a cup of tea, burning his tongue on the beverage. You had watched as tears dripped into his cup, hoping the hot tea would burn away the sadness, too. He was grateful for your patience and comfort, always listening without a judgement. How he was unsure about being a master. How he did not feel ready to train Anakin. How he feared he would fail. “But fear is not the Jedi way”, he has whimpered in the dark, sitting on the floor in front of you, legs crossed, his forehead pressed to your knees as you sat on your bed. “No. But it is the human way” you had answered, your fingers slowly stroking his golden red locks in an attempt to sooth his ache.

You push those memories away. Obi-Wan has recovered, in his own way. He has slowly but surely gained confidence in his skills and his ability to pass them on, even warming up to referring to Anakin as his “little one” more often than as his padawan. The informality was not lost on you. The boy was clinging to his master like a young greysor to its mother, looking up to the man and telling him all details about his day in great lengths and details over dinner, every evening. Your eyes settled on your friend, realizing that it has been a while since you’ve got a chance to study his features with such proximity and you could not recall the last time you had been alone with him. You noticed how his traits have hardened since, how his hair, longer and now always neatly arranged, was now framing his mature face. He even started growing a beard, which you had not yet decided if you liked or not. His cerulean eyes met yours, and you couldn’t help but melt a little when you realized that those, at least, have remained as soft as you remembered. Anakin must be equally succeeding at painting more wrinkles and frowns to Obi-Wan’s traits as he has at keeping his heart tender.

“I am happy to hear that. I’m sure you will find your little trip to be insightful and… dangerous”. A spark returned to the boy’s eyes upon hearing your last word. He shuffled a little in his seat, his resentment about the mission suddenly forgotten and replaced with a curious fascination. You jumped on the occasion to ensure his mood remains lightened, a smug look on your face. “Have I told you about the time your master and I went to find our crystals, and Obi-Wan was afraid the dark?”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Your destination coordinates where set into the navicomputer, the autopilot engaged. Everything was settled for the travel, and you both decided to indulge with an early dinner, hoping to be able to get a full night of sleep before landing at your destination. Obi-Wan headed for the ship’s kitchenette, opening the cooling storage and excitedly took out two packs of what appeared to be rye soup. “This is wonderful! I usually only get ration bars on these council ships”. He skipped back to you, face beaming, holding a box in each hand. He was met with your suspicious glare, lips tight together.

“Come on now darling, I only have to heat it up. There is no way I can mess this up”.

“Obi-Wan, I would trust you with my life, but allow me to doubt you on this one”.

You took the boxes from an exasperated Obi-Wan and headed back to the kitchenette, deciding that you will take cooking matters in your hands. Obi-Wan was… lousy, when it came to handling sustenance in any other way than putting it directly in his mouth (and even then). Burnt eyebrows and meals have been evidence of his previous attempts, and you may even have a scar somewhere on your arm, a relic of that time he believed the oven would be a safer cooking method. He had apologized profusely after managing to short circuit and set the whole thing on fire and had treated you with take-out from Dex’s every time you were meeting up for weeks after the incident. “If it still hurts, I can try to kiss the pain away.” He swore it was not just an imaginary balm for younglings, something about receptors and muscles and pain signals. You pretended the burn stung for days after you had removed the last bacta patch.

Once dinner was prepared and ready without having to call an intergalactic fire brigade, you both settled around the small and only table on the ship. Obi-Wan was practically lounging on the bench seat, and you were pleased that despite your high and respected status of Jedi Master, he would still feel comfortable relaxing casually around you. You set your bowls on the table and sat on the opposite bench.

“I have got to ask though Obi, why did you choose me for this mission? The council could have just assigned anyone else”.

You hoped the question did not come out as a complaint. You were more than happy – looking forward to, even – to start this mission with him. Although you knew that assignments from the Jedi council were usually of the utmost importance and highly serious, undercovers still help an aftertaste of game to you. And who better to disguise yourself with than your favourite partner?

“Well, given the delicate nature of our role, I would rather conduct this mission with someone I truly feel at ease with. Besides, I can’t imagine having to kiss Master Shaak Ti, if it came to that”. He laughed lightly at the image, raising a spoonful of soup to his lips – and burning the tip of his tongue on it. “I keep telling Anakin to be patient, but I daresay I cannot ever wait for my meals to cool down”.

You chuckled in response, hoping he did not notice the blood rushing to your cheeks. While you were glad he confessed to feeling serene in your presence, you had to admit you did not think of the implication of this disguise. You knew Obi-Wan well enough to be able to read him, and the Force could help you anticipate his actions. This would allow you to pass as long-term, close acquaintances, but how exactly were lovers behaving together, in public? How much affection must a crime lord couple display to pass as, well, a real, intimate crime lord couple? “We may need to go through quite a bit of details before we land. You know, setting our story straight and such”. He nodded, now passively stirring his bowl, his eyes fixing you intently. You averted his gaze and dipped your spoon in the rich soup, catching yourself realizing that you wouldn’t mind so much if the mission was to “come to that”. You made a mental note to strengthen your walls and empty your mind before landing.

“You must know, I am glad you accepted to join me. I haven’t got the chance to enjoy your company since you were knighted. You’ve made yourself busier than an old senator.”

You refuted his words, retorted that he was the constantly unreachable shadow, wandering between planetary systems and moody pre-teens. How often you went and knock on his door any time you were on leave only to be met with a locked door silently mocking you. He said that more often than not, he would meet the same fate (it’s true) and would try to fill his absence with little souvenirs he brought you back from his various destinations (it’s also true), leaving them under your doormat. You chastised him about it, complaining about that time he deemed wise to leave a bar of sweet-smelling treat in that specific spot, knowing damn well that colder days were approaching and the Temple had a floor heating system. By the time you had come back to your quarters, the bar was but molten goo and host to flowery mycelium. You complained about the mess it was to scrub and intentionally omitted to mention the blue box you kept under your bed, home to pressed flowers, amulets and other trinkets he has gotten you – you’ve kept every single one of them (expect the bar, which found its way straight to the waste bag).

Bowls were emptied, cleaned and stored away (Obi-Wan insisted on doing the dishes), and you both returned your focus to preparing the mission. Two travel bags and a satchel were waiting in your shared sleeping quarters. Digging through your belongings, you felt slightly anxious at the lack of neutral-coloured clothing and were met only with luxurious, expensive looking fabric with colours that would fit into any rainbow. You took out and set aside a long emerald dress and the heavy brown cloak, deeming them to be a believable travel attire to change into before landing.

Obi-Wan dug out datapads and a sealed, square box from the satchel. He gave you your datapad, which you supposed contained more details about the mission, and eyed the box curiously, turning it between his fingers, examining the object to find its opening mechanism. Finally, twisting the top part from the bottom of the box revealed its content; two rings and two identical pins.

“Ah, right. Married and crime lords” he stated matter-of-factly. He passed you one of the pins; it was golden and represented a wild bird, wings spread and embedded with precious gem stone. You supposed it represented the sigil of your imaginary crime syndicate, operating from the deep underworld of Coruscant, coordinating heavy weaponry and oil trafficking. Your cheeks blushed a little when you realized the rings where, in fact, wedding bands, and Obi-Wan has already slipped his on his finger, holding yours between his thumb and index. His other hand was extended “May I, milady?”

Your head jerked up to meet his cerulean eyes, a playful glint in their corners. You put the tip of your fingers in his calloused member. “I hope you have asked for my parents’ permission before so bluntly asking for my hand, sir.” He winked, running his hand through his hair to push back the growing locks. “I am afraid we are eloping, love.” Sliding the band onto your ring finger, the cold metal feeling foreign there, he added: “My dear wife.”

Somehow, your heart jostled a bit upon hearing his words and you smiled shyly. “Husband.”

Obi-Wan decided to meditate for a few moments before arrival. You offered he use the sleeping quarters for peace, as you wanted to go over the mission’s detail one last time in the cockpit. You must have dozed off reading about inter-rim smuggling routes because when you woke up, you were still curled in the pilot’s seat, a blanket you later recognized as Obi-Wan cloak draped over you.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

The outer-rim planet hosting your mission’s location was filled with luscious flora and where no greeneries grew, cities spread outwards rather than upwards, reminding you of a deceptive replica of Naboo. You landed in the royal spaceport, along with other foreign ships surely belonging to other “buyers” invited to the king’s exposition. Immediately upon setting foot on land, Obi-Wan’s hand found its way to the small of your back, then around, finally settling on your hip. So it begins, you thought. He met your eyes with a reassuring smile, giving you the confidence you needed to kick start your brain into immersing yourself in this new persona. You awkwardly leaned into his touch as the palace’s servant gathered your belonging, leading you to meet the group of newly arrived guest to the main palace, on the city’s rim, where you were all dispatched to your assigned quarters.

“His Majesty and his court expect all guests for a welcome dinner after sunset. He will be opening the exposition.” You were told when the servant opened the door to your room before handing Obi-Wan the keys.

The room, as could be expected in such milieu, was large, but decorations remained modest. Obi-Wan was already checking every corners of the room for anything suspicious when you were still taking in the beauty of the quarters. A thick deep orange carpet covered the dark wooden floor. A large mirror adorned a wall, reaching all the way up to the ceiling, reflecting the more-than-two-person canopy bed and its white veiled curtains. In a corner, a dining table and four chairs, in the other, a curved loveseat with white pillows. Another long plush couch was pushed again the wall under the window, next to the mirror, which offered an exclusive view on the forest surrounding the palace.

“Don’t even think of offering to sleep on it. I will not put up with you complaining about a sore back every morning”

“Actually, since I am quite larger than you, I thought I might be taking the bed – and you get this marvelous couch.”

You threw a pillow at him, and missed. “I do hope your fighting skills are better than your throws!” He set his bag down on the bed, claiming his side, his hand again in his hair, and your stomach sank a little at the realization that yes - you will really be sharing a bed, and it sank a little more when you couldn’t understand why it made you feel warm and shivering at the same time.

“If you steal the duvet, I will put my cold feet on you. Consider yourself warned, Kenobi.”

“Don’t worry darling, your body temperature is safe with me. Now let’s go for a walk, assess the surroundings. We have a few hours before the sunset.”

And then the sun set, and you had to get ready for dinner. You excused yourself to the fresher first, taking your bag, Fumbling again through the coloured fabrics with the same anxiety, you pulled out what you deemed to be the least ostentatious outfit offered – a loose satin grey dress, with straps so thin you were afraid they would snap at the first sudden arm movement, but at least it was long enough to cover the rest of your body. You put it on and stood awkwardly in front of the mirror, your eyes failing to recognize the reflection starring back. You did not like it – you were too uncovered, to bare, to exposed. This was unlike anything you ever wear daily, and the smooth fabric sliding on your skin felt too foreign for you to be comfortable. Turning around, you grimaced at how low the back was, now confronted with a literally visible underwear problem and decided against wearing one, cursing at the impracticality of formal attires. At least the cleavage offered more coverage. You keep most your hair down, still overly conscious about your bare shoulders, only twisting the strands that would frame your face behind your ears and securing them with crystal-decorated pins. And then you stepped out of the fresher.

And then Obi-Wan thought he died a sudden death and an angel has come to reap him. His mind wandered back to stories Anakin always rambled about beautiful being inhabiting the deepest corners of the galaxy and how they just seem to float in an aura than made them glow and he thought – this is it. This is his end, and you were his angel. And then only this last par was true, because angels aren’t reals but you were both real and ethereal and this was everything but his end, if anything it was the beginning of something he wasn’t quite understanding yet. He’s seen you before, but how has he never noticed you? You, the strong warrior he was practically raised with, now glowing in your silver gown, hiding glittering stars in your locks? If angels resided in the deepest corners of the galaxy, then he’s now found you a home in the deepest corners of his mind, and he knew he won’t be chasing you from there anytime soon – if ever.

You swore you saw Obi-Wan… blush? But before you could give it any second thought, his hand was holding yours and his lips were delicately pressed to your fingers and his bright irises searching for your eyes. Now it was your turn to blush. His other hand then scrabbled for something in his pocket, reaching for the golden pin with the wild bird and he once again whispered “may I?” before clipping in to the your dress, where the thin strap met the bodice.

“Is this all too much? It feels very inappropriate on me.”

“It’s beautiful.”

You wished he had said “you” instead of “it” but you gave him a smile and took his arm as you heard a knock on the door - the messenger servant sent to lead you to the dinner hall. You slip him your lightsaber, easier to hide under is loose clothes than your elegant dress. He opted for brown trousers and a deep purple linen shirt that he did not button all the way up. You silently admired your partner’s ability to just fit in anywhere, his posture straighter and more confident than usual (if it was at all possible), and his hold on you firm as he lead you sternly behind the servant. The jedi he is was well hidden under this new demeanor, and you did your best to mirror his expression, worried that you’d make your couple look underwhelming.

“Darling, I believe we have not talked about boundaries yet. The veracity of our act inevitably requires displays of affection, which I trust we both understand. But you must let me know if I ever overstep, as I may not keep my hands off you tonight.”

You nodded in agreement, very aware of the fact that he basically said he will be touching you – quite a lot. You were led through sun colored corridors, large windows illuminating your surroundings with the last rays of the dying day. Your arm still around Obi-Wan’s, you followed the servant out of the residential building, crossed a lush court surrounded by gardens and fountains and flowers smelling of power and credits into the main building. On your previous reconnaissance walk, you had noticed the exotic architecture, vaulted arches and high ceilings, pillars forming straight lines occasionally broken by mural ornaments. Everything was open, spacious and bright, but like your room, the decorations remained simple yet refined. Mouldings ornated each corner of the ceiling and the floor was a mosaic of orange-toned tiles. You passed by an atrium, open to the sky and home to yet another fountain. High class for an outer-rim world.

The dining hall followed the consistent décor of the palace. High ceilings and their mouldings and oh, – the whole ceiling itself was one big mirror. Three large tables were set, arranged in an open square formation. The atmosphere was already lively, and you were surprised at the number of people assisting to his exposition. No matter how hard the Republic claimed to fight against slavery, it remained a very much widespread practice in which too many lords seem to indulge. Another the thing that hit you – the women. You immediately noticed the contrast between the guests and the locals. The former wore similar attire as you, expensive evening gowns cut in noble materials (you winced internally as you realized that your outfit was indeed underwhelming in comparison), and the latter were covered head to toe in colourful fabric, long dresses trailing behind them, hair hidden under an assorted scarf. The different shape of their silhouettes betraying their diverse origins. They sat aligned at the table in the middle, two empty spots at its center, talking only to each other. The harem.

No other chairs were arranged, it will not be a seated dinner for the guests. You both approached the table on the left and when all guests have arrived and settled around the dinning arrangement, an old Zygerrian announced the king and his First Wife. Enter a tall, slim man wearing a long navy robe and a small, round, severe looking women. She was wearing a similar attire has the other wives, but the colour matched that of the king. He started his speech, something about lineage-long tradition of exploring and harvesting innocent youth across the galaxy to serve the best of the men and women. How he has mastered the art of finding only the best, most beautiful and promising beings and how excited he was to show them, how he will have them “parade” with his wives as dinner progresses, so each guests can get acquainted and take the time to choose their preferred match. Sales would be finalized at the end of the week and you wondered how choosing a slave could take so many rotations. You finally decided to pay a little less attention to the words and a little bit more to the people, your eyes scanning through the crowd for any interesting face, carefully probing them with the Force. You felt a little sick at the dangerous energy that emanated from the group. Malice. Greed. A little bit of fear?

You reluctantly left Obi-Wan to get you both drinks once the king finished his oration, glass raised and inviting the festivities to start. The reality of this mission sank in when hooded figures, too small to fit in, too young to be here, were brought in to the wives. All except the First Wife were assigned a figure and you noticed how each pair seemed to be of the same species. Guests immediately found their way to the drinks and sustenance before approaching the colourful covered pair closest to them. The man would always examine the subject as the women immediately started talking to the wife, and you understood your purpose in the mission. You could not shake away the nausea slowly building up in your stomach as you strayed through the crowd, eavesdropping on bribes of conversation, glancing each time a buyer your lift the hood off a little figure, revealing little boys and girls, face too round, eyes too wide, soul too pure to be put in this situation. Trying not to overthink their origin and breathing your distress out, you were making your way back to your fellow Jedi, two ruby wine glasses in your hand when:

“I am surprised someone in your youth would already be looking for another toy. Aren’t they too young for you?”

You turned around and were met with a handsome man, visibly an unaccompanied guest. You did not fully understand the meaning of his words, but you observed he was roughly your age.

“I am not quite sure what you mean sir, but I suppose I could address the same question back to you?”

“A man never has too many toys”.

The way he said it, his tone, sent a shiver down your spine and you crossed your arm to hide the goose bumps you could feel rising your hairs there. He flashed you a smile, all teeth and undeniably, dangerously charming, and you smiled back curtly, every fiber of your being screaming at you to turn around and cut the conversation short. You were starting to get an idea of what was really going on at this auction and you did not like it one bit.

“However do you mean by that?”

He stepped closer to you, taking one of the wine glasses from your hand, shamelessly taking a long sip of it. You straighten your posture, refusing to break his stare with a blink. Against your better judgement you readjusted a stand of hair behind your ear, bringing your own glass to your lips.

“Look around, my dear. We are about two decades younger than most buyers here, surely we must be seeking different things from them.”

“And what is it that you seek?”

Another sip of wine. His eyes bore into yours.

“Pretty things.”

And before you could answer, Obi-Wan has found you, his hand back to its place again on the small of your back. He was followed by by a pair of Togrutas, a veiled wife wearing light blue garments, her hand on the shoulder of a little Togruta girl, dressed in similar colours, eyes fixed on the floor.

“There you are my love. I need you to officiate my study of this young girl.” Then, turning to the lad beside you, “I don’t believe we’ve met?”

You all introduced yourself, and Obi-Wan stiffened when Perry, from Cantonica, bowed and managed to brush his lips against your knuckles, holding your hand a second too long to his liking. He reinforced his grip on you. You were already too close to him when he spotted you, and he did not miss the way Perry’s eyes crudely wandered over your figure. He nudged you towards the waiting Togruta pair, and you began asking questions you believed slavers would ask – her age, her health, strengths and weaknesses. The wife answered patiently answered, her eyes never leaving your face and her hand never leaving the girl. From the corner of your eyes, you saw Obi-Wan kneeling down in front of the girl and his hand moved to examine her limbs and montrals. To an outsider, he would seem like a natural, but you saw has his touch was firm but gentle, and how he seemed to softly ask permission to the little girl before moving to another body part. Obi-Wan’s heart broke a little when she only nodded in agreement, her lifeless eyes never leaving the floor. Perry was still observing you in silence, his eyes curiously darting between Obi-Wan and you. Finally, he released the little girl and you thanked her matrona.

“I see you are unaccompanied. Given the situation, I will be happy to lead an interaction in your name.”

“I will be happy to just join you in your meetings, if you’ll allow me.”

You seeked Obi-Wan’s eyes for approval and he nodded. The evening continued like this for a while, the three of you alternating between the buffet and meeting other younglings, some more talkative than others, and you mediating the interactions, repeating the question the men were asking directly to the matrona, who would only answer to you. Perry seemed to take a particular interest in two of the older ones (you tried not to gag), and Obi-Wan chose a little Twi’lek as fake target. You noted that the little boy reminded you of Anakin. Some of the kids surely originated from the core planets, noticing a Pantoran, and you wondered how the king managed to have such a broad diversity. Not that you’d know much about slave trade, but you were still surprised. By the time the event drew to its end, both your mind and body were exhausted, and when Perry tried to drag Obi-Wan into a private game of Sabacc in the king’s quarters, you nudged him to go (for more information, you whispered softly). Perry noticed how you hastly took your leave, excusing yourself for the evening.

“Do you not kiss your wife goodnight, Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes met yours, unsure what to do, trying to fight the urge to just slam his lips against yours and giving in to the temptation to explore your skin, drawing constellations along the trail of his mouth on your neck, but not daring to without consulting you.

“Only in the privacy of our room.”

He still pulled you close on last time and his lips brushed your temple, inhaling your sweet scent. You tried to ignore your disappointment. He didn’t want to let you go alone, and there was no way he could discretely slip your lightsaber back to you. But you were a resourceful women and he trusted you to make it back to the room without incident. As you left the main building, you spotted a group of the wives discussing around the fountain, seemingly more relaxed and joyful than they were in the dining hall. Their conversation died and a stern look settled on their faces as you approached, asking if you could join them. With a little use of the force to sooth any distrust, you managed to ease into their discussions, hoping that the wine that flowed this evening would loosen tongues and appease suspicions.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Your mind was wandering on the sharp edge between awake and asleep when Obi-Wan came back to your room, tiptoeing his way across the entrance. You had let his bedside lamp dimly lit for him, and you observed quietly as he removed his shirt, his bare chest and their red hair and taut muscle on full display for you. Has he noticed you were awake? You felt guilty for prying, like you were witnessing something deliciously illicit, but the way his skin seemed to gleam under the dim warm light, shadows only enhancing his features, how he look strong yet tired and vulnerable had something too mesmerizing for you to tear your eyes away.

Of course he had noticed you weren’t sleeping, but he wasn’t going to let you feel embarrassed for starring. Besides, he couldn’t resist putting on a little show, one last treat to end this tedious day before slumping next to you. But as he was pulling his shirt above his head, he suddenly felt self-conscious about his nakedness, and decided to quietly disappear into the fresher. You were right, joining the Sabacc tournament gained him access to exclusive information, some he could easily pull out from drunken lords, gladly taking hints he was dropping to steer the conversation the way he wanted to. He had so much to discuss with you, but for now he had to focus on getting the smell of spirit off his scent and getting himself into bed with you. That last part was making him more anxious than having to face a tantrum-throwing Anakin, and despite the late hour, he opted for a quick shower.

Clean and absolutely worn out, he silently slid under the duvet next to you, careful not to wake you up. You were really sleeping now, your back facing the edge of the bed, your breathing soft and steady. He took one last look at you before turning the light off, how your lips were slightly parted and pouty, and your chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. How your hair framed your beautiful face, and he chastised himself once more for not looking at you earlier, for taking so many years to realize what he had just here, right in front of him, and how he didn’t know what to do with it. It – the fuzzy feeling in his stomach that did not seem to settle since you landed but only to grow in intensity as he could not peel his eyes off you the whole evening. And when he fully put his weight down on the mattress, you shifted a little bit closer to him, your warm radiating under the blanket and he thought he might suffocate when he noticed how small the straps of your nightdress where, and he couldn’t help but wonder how soft you must feel if he were to hold you, but then your leg brushed his and he scooted just a millimeter more against you.

“Good night, little one.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

It was in a silent mutual agreement that you both ignored the fact that when you woke up this morning, your legs were tangled together, his arm somehow found their way across your middle, your head resting in the crook of his neck, and he stole an innocent kiss from on your forehead when you were still weary. It was in a silent understanding that when you got dressed and went down for breakfast, the hands you held with each other was nothing but another façade, another prop to the act you play. At least, that’s what you both tried to convince yourselves with. That was why the overall you chose this morning was a little bolder, red, mind you, and the cut twice as deep, this time both in the back and the front. The visible underwear problem remained and at this point you gave up on wearing any. The bodice hugged your curves in all the right places (he tried very hard not to stare), the wide bottom pants flowing around your legs despite the thicker material. On the practical side, it had pockets, and the looseness of the pants allowed you to strap your lightsaber to your inner thigh. That was also why, like yesterday, Obi-Wan secured the pin to your strap, his fingers lingering a moment longer on your collarbone, a subtle caress to the skin above your breast.

“It’s the wives” you say later, your voice low, briefing him on your findings from the previous night while munching on some local fruit. “Did you notice how they are all from different worlds?”

“The king steals them from their home. People he deals in business with, or poorer, farther-rim systems. He offers protection to whoever is the sovereign there. In return, they have to give up their first daughter as wife, or son as slave – I don’t know what is worse. And they have to send two child here each year, a boy and a girl, elected by their people as the most beautiful.”

“I can’t believe such an elite slave trade exists with such young ones. The younglings are to be auctioned. It starts tonight. You can already place your bid with the respective matrona. Most buyers are from the core planets too.”

“They must hold a record somewhere.”

“The First Wife. She coordinates everything. She should have an office. And Obi-Wan, we might want to sneak a matrona back to Coruscant as witness – not all of them want to be here nor agree with this. Stars, Anakin would hate this place.”

He nodded approvingly, his look shutting you up as Perry appeared in your line of sight with the First Wife. She greeted the both of you, saying she insisted on meeting each customer personally, asking about if you’ve already spotted any preferred candidate, and what kind of leverage you were interested to offer up as deposit to secure a higher chance of acquiring them. You kept your answers short, ignoring Perry’s eyes on you, mentioning the young twi’lek, and a shipment of unrefined oil and spice, lying perfectly when needed and sticking to the cover story the Council had prepared. But then:

“I couldn’t help but overhear – who his this dear Anakin?”

You felt Obi-Wan tight tense up under where your hand was. You sent him a reassuring nudge through the force, putting on your most tender smile and said:

“Our son, your Majesty. He is ten.”

“Ah, then you might be interested in our little Saya. She’s a bit younger, human, but it’s good to have them match a younger age. Makes them more malleable, you know? I will have her matrona and her meet you tonight.”

You thanked her politely, saying you will need to discuss the matter with your husband first but appreciate the gesture. She updated you both on the activities the king has had organized for the guests; a visit of the baths for the females, a hunting game for the males, and left, moving on to the next table. Obi-Wan was admiring your quick wit, growling after Perry’s insistent gaze on you, at the fact you will again be separated, and you were still processing the interaction.

“Brides,” you whispered in horror. “They’re selling the girls as child bride, Obi-Wan.”

His hand squeezed yours in understanding, and you both decided to head back to your room to discuss your next plan of action – getting evidence. Tonight.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

When you got back to your room after hours dipping in various bath waters, Obi-Wan had scrambled a note that they had come back early from the hunt and already had to join the dinner party. You took yet another shower today – who could have thought so many different baths existed? Mud, sea salt, ocean salt, dead salt (whatever that was). This night, you opted for a an exquisite chiffon blue dress (his favourite colour), again with an open back (you both secretly enjoyed when his fingers absentmindedly caressed your skin there) with a slit high on your leg (but not high enough to reveal your saber) and your hair tied in a high bun (maybe his fingers will wander to your neck too) and when you left your room that evening feeling like a million credit, you arrived at the window where we was waiting for you in the hall just in time to catch the sunset.

“It’s beautiful.” You said as you reached his side.

And despite the horrific truth behind the mission, and the exhausting day he just had putting up with the other crime lords talking about the slaves like lifeless objects, he thought you must have been bathing in the very same sunset because when he replied with “yes, beautiful” it was you and not the window he was looking at. His knuckles again found their home on the skin on your back (you screamed a little inside) and you could feel his chest pressed into your side, his warmth welcomed on your bare flesh. And then his breath against the back of your ear, the ghost of his lips barely brushing against your pulse.

“I like it.”

“What?”

“Your beard. I wasn’t sure before, but I’ve decided I like it.”

“Oh. Anything else you’ve decided to like about my body in my absence? Perhaps I could give you a tour?”

“Obi-Wan,” you gasped, amused. “Are you flirting with me?”

A light chuckle escaped his lips before they found their way to the soft skin behind your ear again. “Perhaps.” His voice was sweet, teasing. “What kind of husband would I be if I did not woo my beloved wife every now and then?” His lips dipped lower to the crook of your neck and pressed a chaste kiss there, his stubble deliciously burning your skin. You turned around, hiding your shiver. His impossibly deep cerulean eyes were smiling at you, and you swore you saw them trail down your cleavage first and you rolled your eyes at him behind your lashes. His cheeks were flushed, a smug smile spread across his face. You really wanted to feel those lips on your too, now. Thinking of something to do to break this tension that surely you weren’t the only one feeling, your hands went to readjust the collar of his tunic.

“While I do highly enjoy this, I need you focused, Kenobi.”

“Given how little I can do without your presence with the wives, and the drinks I was peer pressured into drinking, I might let you take the lead tonight.”

You made a point to tease him about it the whole evening when guests were called, and like last night, the matronas were already aligned with their protégés. Unlike last night, the atmosphere was tense, and you could already see quarrels rising when two buyers started bidding wars for a same subject. You refused the drinks the servants were offering (one of us has to stay sober, you said with a wink) and led Obi-Wan to the little twi’lek from yesterday. Speeches were made, more bid placed, food served, live music played and peoples have started dancing when Obi-Wan excused himself to the fresher (your skin burned where his had was resting this whole time). Perry approached you.

“Will the lovely lady grant me this dance?”

With no valid reason to excuse yourself, you had to accept. Immediately, his hand was too low on your back and his grip on your hand too tight, his breath smelling heavily of spirit. “Your husband is very protective of you”. You did not like the way he whispered into your ear; too close, too wet. “Would not agree to share you – and I’ve never heard prices go this high.” You tried to pull away a little, but he only pulled you closer, his hand now even lower. “Did he tell you I killed the largest game today, hm? I shall deserve a prize for this, don’t you think, pretty thing?”

You were about to get back to him, ready use some force to get out of his grip if you must.

“That’s enough.”

Obi-Wan was back between the two of you, jaw clenched and eyes dark, his voice deep and threatening. You took advantage of this distraction to untangle yourself from your unwanted dance partner, who gave you both a polite nod, an irritating smirk never leaving his face before leaving.

“Are you alright little one?” His hands were cupping your face, thumbs tracing circles on your cheeks. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch.

“Drunken men and their wandering hands aren’t enough to upset me, Obi-Wan.”

“My brave girl.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, pulling you closer to him. Your heart skipped a beat at the praise.

“What’s the trouble?”

“These men –“ he looked around, “tried to bid to have you, all day. Perry was the most insistent.”

“And?”

“No one will lay a hand on your as long you are mi- you are with me”.

He wanted to say mine. “You are mine”. Because you were, and you knew it, but he would not dare to call you as such yet. You said nothing and placed one hand on his shoulder, taking his hand in the other. He picked up on your unspoken requests, balancing his weight on his legs, and soon your head was resting on his chest as he tried to clumsily lead you to the rhythm of the music, trying to follow a melody neither of you knew. He may have stepped on your feet once or twice, but you didn’t mind. You looked up to his face and his gaze was already on yours, and your hand went from his shoulder to the back of his head, pushing it down to your neck because you couldn’t stand him looking at you like that without your stomach doings somersaults.

You looked up to the ceiling, the large mirror reflecting the dining hall, a whirlwind of people and tints and tones tangled together, mixed into an incoherent splatter of colours that made you dizzy. You tried to spot your own reflection, wondering what you’d look like in his arms, but you couldn’t make out a single face in the mist of the dancing crowd.

What you did spot, however, was the First Wife, her bright golden reflection standing out from the crowd, slightly apart. And then it clicked, and you were back in the present moment. The mission. The girls. The records. You whispered in his ear, your voice tinted with urgency.

“She spies on people. The mirror. We can’t wait until the end like we planned. We must slip away while the room is still full, it will make it harder to spot us.”

He agreed silently, and with a few more steps and twists and turns, gradually led you through the mass of dancers, towards to back door, and when you were far enough, you waited for that beat, that moment to sneak out of the dining hall in silence. Obi-Wan produced a computer system key from his pocket and lead you through corridors and stairs. “I spied on her when we got back earlier. Her quarters are above the halls,” he explained. And that where you went. You hoped his inebriety has lowered and kept your senses in alert as you arrived in a pink clay corridor, in front of a large wooden door. You trusted Obi-Wan that this was the right place, and when you found the control panel, he gave you the system key. You were fast enough, and with a little bit of guidance from the Force, managed to unlock the door.

“Be quick,” you whispered, and he slipped into the office, leaving you to guard the passage.

And he was quick, reappearing with a triumphant smile, slipping what appeared to be a holochip under his tunic. You proceeded to attempt to close the door, only for it to get stuck half way. To make matter worse, you could hear footsteps coming down the corridor, approaching at a steady pace. Calling on the Force to keep you grounded, you focused on the key turning in the panel, aware of all the notches position it went through. Then the door closed and locked, just as the footsteps were reaching you, a flash of golden yellow hinting something bad, and before you could think, you grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand and pulled him to you, pressing your back to the wall, your dress covering the still open control panel.

“What are you doing?”

“Covering us.”

You put your arms around his neck and pulled him for a kiss. He didn’t react at first, slightly dumbfounded and taken aback, but once he caught up to your thinking he snaked his arms around your waist and pressed himself further against you. His lips responded to your, engaging them in a silent conversation that only grew more heated at you heard the footstep stop. Your heart must have also stopped too, and you weren’t breathing anymore, too aware of the pair of eyes on the two of you, too excited by the tongue that was now requesting entrance to your mouth, and you granted. Conversations turned into a dance, tongues trying to dominate the other, teeth grazing and nipping at lips. You closed your eyes, this was all too much. And then he moved down to your neck, his tongue laving at the skin there, tracing kisses into a pattern down to your shoulder. You felt his hand reach behind you, down your leg, his body following his movement and his lips now nipping at the side of your arm. A slight tug on your dress, and he was reaching back up, his hand now dipping beneath the slip of your dress, pulling your leg to hook it around hip. His fingers kneaded the skin on your inner tight, and you gasped at his audacity, but when you felt something cold pressed again your skin, you realized he had removed the computer system key and secured it to your strap, next to your lightsaber.

You heard the footsteps again, their echo a diminuendo as they departed. And Obi-Wan heard it to, but he did nothing to pull away, and you did nothing either. Instead, his ministrations toned down, growing softer, turning into tender nipping at your jaw, timid kisses on each corners of your lips. You slowly withdrew your leg from his side and he sighed at the absence of contact. You kept your eyes shut, knowing that if you were to open them, the blue gaze that would meet you will be your end. So you waited until he relaxed his grip on your waste, his teeth grazing your skin one last time, and there was nothing left of the two jedi on a mission but panting bodies and hungry stares and cheeks flushed with blood and intertwined fingers. Then a scary thought crossed your mind – this meant nothing, this was just a cover, and you turned your face away, gently pushing him back. He released you, trying to regain his composure. You kicked the door of the control panel closed, and when you looked back at him, nothing on his face betrayed the events that just transpired – not even wet lips. He was all serious eyes and stern face, and you both agreed to head back to your quarters to contact the Council immediately.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

The holo-records Obi-Wan stole were sent via a secure pulse transmission to the council, which revealed that numerous high placed personalities from Republic planets were involved in this slave ring. The Senate thus took the matter in their hands, deciding to send their law reinforcement for arrests before the sales would be concluded at the end of the week. Obi-Wan and you were to leave the premises before things got dirtier, and a few standard hours later, you were both back in your Jedi robes, all lavish make-up and attire stored away in their original travel bag, like a circus would fold up its tent after a show. You stayed silent as Obi-Wan typed in the coordinated back to Coruscant, drawing your legs up to your chin in the co-pilot’s chair.

You turned the wedding band around your finger, the last piece of your costume you had not gotten yourself to remove yet, thoughts wandering around the symbolism and the implications that came with such a small piece of metal. Obi-Wan sensed your inner turmoil and, the autopilot engaged, turned his chair to face you, taking your hands in his.

“What is it, love?”

“The band. It is strange to think that two people fall in love, and the whole foundation of their trust, their intimacy, everything they share is held like a promise on one finger, and taking this away means taking everything away.”

“Very much like us, our lightsabers and the Order. It is but another token to a lifetime commitment.”

“We commit to a code, to a place, a lifestyle and the Force. But do we ever really commit to anyone? I feel like a fraud wearing it.”

He gave you a strange look, and you hoped he understood that you were not questioning your allegiance to the Order. Just where my heart belongs, you thought. He stayed silent, his fingers playing with said band, turning it around your finger. You couldn’t tell where this was coming from, thinking that your emotional ramble was no longer valid now that the mission was over and he would not understand why you suddenly felt so empty – because it means going back to being Jedi, and not unlawfully wed husband and wife. But then he pressed both your hands to his forehead, bending in front of you like he did that time he was crying over his fears in your room.

“Please don’t ever think what happened on that planet was meaningless. There is no one else in the galaxy with whom I would have wanted to indulge in this experience but you, and I would like to do it for as long as you’ll have me. If you’ll have me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts had not caught up with your words when you blurted out:

“I want you Obi-Wan. Always.”

You pulled him up to you. His lips met yours again, and this time you knew it was real. It was soft at first, as if he never kissed you before, lips exploring lips and when he familiarized himself with the map of your curves and corners, his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, his tongue seeking yours. You opened your mouth to him, and he pulled you up, pressing your body into his and you melted a little as you became one with him. His arms wrapped you in a tight embrace and your hands found their way around his neck, in his hair, tugging the lock affectionately. He hummed in content, you sighed in relief.

You knew this could – would – mean long discussions about your values, the conflicting dichotomy between listening to your feelings but not indulging in them, that it would mean more secrets, stolen glances and forbidden touches, another perception of the time and space between you and him, parsecs and moons away from each other during missions. You smiled against his lips as you thought about how things always come in pairs; light and dark, moons and suns, seas and skies, days and night, and how maybe, you and him could be the two counterparts of your own binary system.

#obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi #jedi!reader #star wars #first fic #yay #!!!#I am scared #swann #baby swann writes

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ilcuoreardendo-fic · 4 years

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The Dark of the Forest

Dunno. I started this last October with the intention to post and....that never happened.

So I just finished it and here it is. More a slice of life/beginning of something (that I currently have absolutely no plans to continue, in any way.) _________________________________

Obi-Wan cursed under his breath as he tripped over the third tree root in as many steps. His vision blurred and he blinked hard in a desperate attempt to clear it. He'd hit his head in the crash and was likely suffering a concussion. And, after stumbling through the forest for the last hour, calling for Anakin (who never answered, which meant he was out of ear shot…or incapable) he could feel his strength waning.

He pulled his robe tighter around him; it did little to keep out the bone-deep chill of the coming twilight as it settled over the forest.

Reaching out again, he looked for some glimmer of Anakin's Force signature. Again, he encountered no Anakin. And nothing else.

Forests were epicenters of the Living Force and this one was muted. If he hadn't seen the living trees and shrubs, the animals bedding down for the night, he'd have called it dead.

And if it wasn’t the forest that was without the Force, then it was him. Something was muting his connection. Perhaps his injury. But Obi-Wan had suffered similar injuries before with no blocking of his ability.

He paused as another wave of fatigue and dizziness washed over him. (Perhaps the head injury was to blame. But there was no use dwelling on it.) He needed to find shelter. Help. Some way to relay a message to Coruscant.

A fragment of light caught his eye and he paused, tilting his head to look through the spindly curved bodies of tree trunks. The light stayed steady. He walked toward it, found a cottage made of stone rising up out of the forest clearing. Craggy and aged, light shone between the slats of shutters that were pulled tight against the coming night. Beyond them would be a warm room and perhaps food, an ally, a subspace comm.

Obi-Wan knocked on the door. There was no answer, but the handle turned easily and the door swung open. Beyond it was a simple sitting room, doused in orange and red shadows from the fire in the hearth. There was a low couch and, in front of it, a table set with a platter of bread and fruits and two empty bowls no doubt meant to hold the contents of the pot that was bubbling in front of the fireplace.

Even as his vision blurred again, Obi-Wan scoffed softly at the convenience, remembering some old tale he’d heard in the crèche about a girl and an enchanted palace where all her needs were seen to by invisible servants.

But this was no storybook and he was no fair maiden. Obi-Wan needed food and rest if he was to heal himself enough to seek help, to continue his search for Anakin.

So he went inside, closing the door behind him, knelt at the little table and helped himself to the stew, the bread, the sweet fruits.

It wasn’t long before a full belly and the heat of the fire made Obi-Wan’s exhaustion more pronounced. He straightened in his seated position, breathed deep, reached out, looking for that ever shifting wave of energy, hoping to harness it to heal and shore himself up.

He felt it. Had it in his grasp.

And it slipped away, slick as a fleek eel.

At the same moment, the door latch clicked and the air in the room cooled. Obi-Wan opened his eyes to a tall, robed figure entering the cottage. He remained seated, tried to look as non-threatening as possible, while he rested his hand close to his lightsaber. If the figure meant him no ill-will, it would go far in preserving the peace. And if it did, he would have the element of surprise.

The figure removed its cloak.

Obi-Wan stopped breathing.

His hair was longer, his skin paler, and there were a few more lines around his mouth and eyes. He had trimmed his once neat beard into a fine goatee, but the mouth was the same and so was the crooked smile, though it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. Eyes that were cast in shadow by the room but glittered in the firelight, flat and silver.

“Qui-Gon.” Obi-Wan was barely aware he’d spoken or that he’d stood.

“Obi-Wan. I felt you as soon as you made planet fall. I must have just missed you.”

“How?”

“Some things, even death cannot destroy. Our bond is one of them.”

Obi-Wan bit back a frown. He still felt nothing. Even with Qui-Gon there, in front of him, close enough to touch.

“And the rest,” Qui-Gon said knowingly, “is a much longer story.”

“I would hear it,” Obi-Wan said, but his belly was tight and his nerves suddenly singing with the need to be outside of the cabin. He’d long tried to stop questioning these small bits of insight that his gut threw at him. “But I need to find Anakin. It’s dark and he may be injured.”

Qui-Gon smiled and again it did not reach his eyes. “He’s in good hands. He’ll be fine.”

“What?” Obi-Wan had trouble following Qui-Gon’s meaning. His vision blurred again, as much from exhaustion as from the head injury. The world tilted and he stumbled, felt Qui-Gon’s fingers curl around his bicep, the grip strong and sure and for a moment he was transported back 11 years, losing his balance coming out of a particularly difficult kata and Qui-Gon was there to catch him, steadying him with both his hand and the Force, the bond flaring to life between them.

And it flared to life now, the first of the Force Obi-Wan has felt since he woke in the crashed ship, but there was something wrong. It was not the warm, tranquil thing of his memories. It was dark and cool. It twined around him like a constrictor snake before he shoved himself away from the man who was his mentor, his master.

“You’re not Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said, knowing it wasn’t true.

“Oh, Obi-Wan.” The sigh was wistful, a little amused, a little mocking. “Would that it were so simple. Don’t.”

The last word came out in a harsh rasp as Obi-Wan edged toward the door, his hand on his saber hilt. But, much as he had when he was younger, Obi-Wan ignored Qui-Gon’s warning and threw himself sideways. He wasn’t surprised when he was caught—not in the web of the Force but by hands—and physically hauled away from the door; his wrists were wrenched behind his back, his chest pressed into Qui-Gon’s.

Qui-Gon was saying something beneath his breath, but the words were directed at the air, as if he were having a conversation with someone not in the room. Too soon. Cannot keep him. The boy…

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan whispered. That’s who “the boy” was. He was certain of it. He twisted in Qui-Gon’s hold, hoping to throw the taller man over his shoulder but only succeeding in pulling them bodily together. Qui-Gon took them to the ground with a swift movement of his boot hooked around Obi-Wan’s ankle, landing on top of Obi-Wan and knocking the breath out of him.

When his former master sat up, the yellow firelight reflected in his eyes. Obi-Wan saw sadness there, tempered with resolution. As Qui-Gon’s hand came to his face, Obi-Wan flailed, snatching at the man’s robes, his face, his hair until the touch of those warm fingers quieted him, stilled him against his will, left him soft, yielding, as he slid into unconsciousness, Qui-Gon’s voice in his ears.

Not now. But soon.

“Obi-Wan!”

There were hands on his shoulders. The smell of mech oil and fresh dirt in his nose.

“Obi-Wan, wake up. Master!”

“Anakin?”

“Oh, fu—. I thought you were dead.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Anakin’s face trembled into view above him, backlit by star shine and moonlight. His eyes were wide and there were silver tracks in the dust on his face. Anakin would, of course, never admit to tears. He was 15. He didn’t cry.

Obi-Wan tried to sit up and winced as his right wrist protested the pressure. There was an answering throb at his temple.

“Wait,” Anakin said, before sliding his arms around Obi-Wan and beneath his armpits, helping him scoot up against the side of their crashed shuttlecraft. “I came to and found you lying over there,” Anakin said, pointing to the edge of the tree line. “You went through the cockpit windscreen. Lucky for you it completely popped out with the crash,” Anakin said, “or you would have had more than just a scratch on your head.” He frowned. “I couldn’t tell you what went wrong with the shuttle.” The last was said with a heavy sigh of irritation.

Obi-Wan looked around. Anakin had set out the small emergency fusion lamps toward the edges of the crash site. They were in the middle of a copse of trees, some of them damaged from the impact. He could, if he focused, feel the forest creatures at the edges of the light. He could feel Anakin next to him, bright and warm and worried.

Had it all just been a dream?

“The Temple—“ he started.

“The comm on the shuttle was a bit banged up,” Anakin said, “but I was able to get it running long enough to send and receive. Evac in 20 standard hours.”

Letting out a sigh, Obi-Wan leaned a little heavier against the shuttle. “Then I suppose there’s nothing for it but to wait.”

Anakin nodded, with the air of one facing a grim immediate future of inaction before jumping to his feet. “We have rations in my pack. And I think there were some blankets in the storage compartment,” he said, turning and climbing into the belly of the shuttle.

Blankets sounded good. Obi-Wan pulled his robe a little tighter around him, wincing against at the shock of pain from his wrist. He pulled his sleeve back to examine the injury and stopped.

Wrapped snugly around his wrist, just beneath the pisiform bone—almost serving to stabilize what was surely a minor sprain—was a woven, brown and green, nerf hide hair band.

He’d seen this band often as a padawan: on the caff table in the common room, on the counter in the ‘fresher, on his master’s bedside table.

Obi-Wan traced the band with his thumb. He brought it close to his face, breathing in the scent of aged leather. There was no trace imprint of the one who’d worn it, physically or in the Force. But he knew to whom it had belonged.

He heard Qui-Gon’s voice in his head. The coolness of it. The strange tilt of the Force as he spoke to someone Obi-Wan couldn’t hear.

The boy. Not now. Soon.

A chill went through him that had nothing to do with the night air.

#quiobi #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #star wars fic #sw fic #obi wan #qui gon #short fic #queued post

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dettiot · 4 years

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Fic: late-night interruption 5/?

late-night interruption Author: dettiot Rating: G (for now) Summary: When Obi-Wan receives a late-night comm from Sabé, he’s not sure what to expect. But what he learns will change many lives . . . and the fate of the Republic.

Also available on AO3!

XXX

There was a disturbance in the Force.

Most beings would stand in the office of the Supreme Chancellor and, if their attention was not held by being in the presence of the most powerful man in the galaxy, be entirely focused on the view through the transparisteel windows. No matter the hour, traffic surged around Coruscant’s buildings, moving its two trillion citizens to workplaces or home or recreation sites.

But for Darth Sidious, Coruscant was only a drop of water in the ocean when it came to his interests. In truth, the entirety of the known galaxy was simply where he would start--but with the vast unexplored regions, there were so many beings, unaffiliated with the Republic yet, that he would bring under his control one day.

That would be his glorious future. Whenever he considered it, the Force swirled in a dark, soothing mass around him. In the present moment, however, he could sense something changing. Something that felt wrong.

Reaching out, Sidious focused on the change. It seemed to be coalesced around certain people, and his lips twisted into a snarl as he realized just who the Force was working upon.

Senator Padmé Amidala. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. And most troubling of all: Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker.

If it was simply the matter of Amidala’s brat being born soon, he would understand this stirring. Anakin’s offspring would be powerful in the Force. And when his child came without its father being present, Anakin would blame the Jedi Order. It would be another wedge between his future apprentice and the Jedi High Council.

But it wasn’t just the “happy couple” at the center of the Force’s gyrations. What did the Force care about Kenobi in this moment?

Before he could begin to explore the disturbance further, his comm chimed and he had to take a moment to smooth his face into something suitable for Chancellor Palpatine.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could bear to keep up the pretense. To wait for his destiny. Especially with the Force’s newfound movement, being more active than it had been in decades. It was practically dancing.

Tapping his finger on the button, he accepted the comm and growled, “Yes?”

“Good evening, Chancellor,” Mas Amedda said, his voice dripping with deferential courtesy. “There is action in the Senate on another clone rights bill--”

“Another bill which will go nowhere,” Sidious ordered. “There are no clone rights.”

Amedda bowed, but his sense hummed with a subtle resentment. “I am attempting to do as you wish, Chancellor, however, I have received word that the Kaminoans supporting this latest bill.”

“They have no Senate seat,” he sniffed. “Clearly, this is a ploy, in preparation for our upcoming negotiations.”

“Yes, Chancellor,” Amedda said.

The lack of initiative in Amedda was becoming more and more of a problem. But on the other hand, his loyalty was unquestioning. Any servant’s gifts came with tradeoffs, Sidious acknowledged to himself.

“I will speak to the Kaminoans. Keep the Senate in line and kill the very idea of clone rights,” Sidious said.

Amedda inclined his head. “Yes, Chancellor. Have a good evening.”

Without any further words, Sidious ended the comm and looked out at the view once again. He reached for the Force but found his insight was . . . blocked. All he could feel was a disgusting light. He grimaced and turned back to his desk.

These infernal petty problems--clone rights, war strategy, the Senate’s bickering--soon, none of them would matter. Soon, the galaxy would answer to him.

And so would the Force.

XXX

Although most of Naboo’s population wasn’t overtly religious, Sabé had been brought up in a family that was less spiritual than most. She had always focused on the here and now, on her own actions, instead of thinking about what came after death. And she had been satisfied with her life and what she would accomplish before she died, without the assistance of any gods or goddesses.

Yet she had begun to reconsider her perspective. Because seeing her best friend in such pain made her wish she could call upon a deity for help.

“Don’t push, Senator,” Gahan urged her as Sabé held her hand. “Not quite yet.”

Padmé nodded, her teeth gritted. The contraction passed and she slumped back on the bed, breathing hard.

Sabé lifted a damp cloth and sponged Padmé’s forehead. “You’re doing so well, Padmé,” she soothed her. “Just a little longer.”

Nodding a little, Padmé closed her eyes. “Where’s Anakin? Is he here yet?”

“Soon--he’ll get here soon,” Sabé promised. “Master Kenobi messaged me when they entered orbit around Coruscant.”

“Master Kenobi?” Padmé said, blinking. “Obi-Wan is coming?”

With a shrug of her shoulders, Sabé said, “Yes?”

Padmé still looked confused, but then she smiled weakly. “That’s--that’s good. I’m glad. Anakin--Anakin is scared for me--he’ll need Obi-Wan.”

Anakin wasn’t the only one who was scared, Sabé thought. She glanced at Healer Gahan, who remained as calm and steady as a pond. But it seemed to her that the healer’s calm was very practiced. Like she was pretending for Padmé’s sake.

“Sabé . . . could I please have some juice?”

Before Sabé could reply, the healer said smoothly, “I’m afraid that’s not wise, Senator. But you may have some ice chips.”

“I’ll get them for you, Padmé,” Sabé said, giving her forehead another quick wipe before heading to the kitchen.

The healer followed her, which was fine with Sabé. As soon as they were out of earshot, she whirled around and pinned the Mon Cal with her glare. “What’s wrong with Padmé?”

“Nothing more than she is in labor,” Gahan said, her large, glassy eyes blinking. “The Senator is a small woman; she will need to be fully dilated to deliver safely. There is also her anxiety about her husband being here. That is unfortunately increasing her pain, too. I’m sure as soon as her husband arrives, the Senator will have an easier time of it.”

Sabé breathed out, feeling her shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

“You are a good friend to the Senator,” the healer said politely. “I have one more scan to run on the Senator--I do find the Senator’s condition concerning, but I believe with this final scan, we will be well-prepared for the delivery.”

“All right,” Sabé said. “I’ll get the ice chips for Padmé. Thank you, Healer Gahan.”

“You’re welcome,” the healer said with a nod of her head before returning to Padmé’s room.

Something still seemed not quite right to Sabé, but then, she had never been part of something like this before. She didn’t have older sisters and Padmé was the first of her friends to become pregnant. And she never had any thought of having children herself.

All of this was as new to her as it was to Padmé. And Padmé needed her right now.

That meant she shouldn’t stand around worrying. She should get those ice chips and get back to Padmé.

With a shake of her head, Sabé did what was needed. With a large glass brimming with ice, she walked back into the bedroom, just in time to hear Padmé say, in a loud voice, “What?!?”

“What is it, Padmé?” Sabé asked, stepping over towards her.

Padmé looked up at Sabé, her eyes wide and dark and, for the first time ever, full of fear for her life.

XXX

He knew what he should be focusing on. The idea that the Chancellor was a Sith Lord . . . it was horrifying, terrifying. Not just for what it could mean for the galaxy, but because how could the Jedi not realize this? How had Palpatine hidden his power, to the extent that he read as a non-Force-sensitive?

Yet all Obi-Wan could think about was Satine.

The Satine in the meditation he had shared with Anakin . . . he had never seen her like that. Her hair loose around her face, but shorter than he had ever seen it. Her face was as beautiful as ever, but there were new lines around her eyes, hinting at age--or pain. And her jumpsuit, dirty and faded, was a far cry from her regal gowns. Not even during their year on the run had she allowed herself to look so bedraggled.

It all pointed towards a Force vision, a glimpse into the future. But . . . how could it be true? How could Satine be alive?

Meditation usually calmed him, gave him answers to the questions he sought. But this time, all he had were questions. And given the current situation, it would be up to him to find the answers.

Obi-Wan glanced over at Anakin, who was gripping the speeder controls so hard, his knuckles were white.

Yes, definitely up to him.

Not that he could fault Anakin for his distraction. Not with his worries for Padmé. And Anakin could never focus on anything else if someone he cared about was in trouble. It was a quality which had provoked Obi-Wan to exasperation at times--but also to gratitude, since otherwise, he might not be alive.

Obi-Wan took a breath and sought for Padmé’s presence amid the trillions of souls on the surface of Coruscant. Once he found her, he winced at the pain radiating off her. But the strength underneath that pain gave him hope.

Looking over at Anakin, Obi-Wan spoke in a raised tone, to be heard over the wind whipping past the speeder’s canopy. “Padmé seems to be handling her pain well.”

If anything, his attempt at reassurance backfired, because Anakin sped up. “She shouldn’t ever be in pain,” he said, his jaw tight.

“Some pain is unavoidable, Anakin--you know this,” Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his voice gentle.

He shook his head, his distress plain to see. Obi-Wan reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I know I should be worrying about what we saw,” Anakin said slowly, his eyes focused on the view through the windshield. “About the Chancellor . . . and about Satine. But all I can think about is Padmé. About my dreams.”

“I understand, Anakin, I do,” Obi-Wan said. “But I saw Padmé holding a baby in our vision. We both saw that. It seems the Force itself says her future is not what you saw in your dreams.”

“Then what do my dreams mean? They felt so real, Obi-Wan . . .”

Anakin’s voice sounded miserable. He was flying without his usual smooth fluidity, jerking the steering column to get around obstacles in their path.

“Crashing the speeder won’t help Padmé or solve the question of what will happen,” Obi-Wan said crisply. “And Padmé is going to need you to be calm and supportive.”

His former Padawan gave him a look dripping with frustration, but at least he slowed the speeder and took a few deep breaths. Obi-Wan sent him a gentle swell of peace and hope, which helped reduce a little of the fear in Anakin’s presence. Enough that his face smoothed and his thoughts seemed to untangle.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said after a moment.

“I know,” Obi-Wan said.

Glancing at Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself thinking. No matter how much Obi-Wan had taught him to avoid attachment, Anakin seemed completely unable to do so. And it troubled Obi-Wan, seeing Anakin be so fearful of loss. Not simply because of the danger of giving in to that fear . . . but also, how did such a reaction impact the people that Anakin cared about?

Over the years, Obi-Wan had observed Anakin being wildly overprotective of Padmé, even though she was very capable of defending herself. What if, at some point in the future, Anakin’s worry came into conflict with Padmé’s sense of independence? How would Anakin handle that--and how would Padmé?

It made him think of that year with Satine. How Qui-Gon had taught him to respect Satine’s autonomy. To not take over tasks simply because he was a Jedi--to let her learn so she could help herself.

“If we give someone a fish, they eat today,” Master Qui-Gon would tell him. “But if we teach someone to fish, they will eat every day for the rest of their lives.”

That approach always seemed to be successful, even though it conflicted with his sense of personal responsibility. When had he stopped believing in teaching people and begun taking over? Was it the war--the lives he felt responsible for? Or was it a flaw within himself?

Perhaps he had failed Anakin, by simply taking a black-and-white approach to attachment, instead of teaching him all the shades of gray that came from having relationships. And perhaps Anakin had taken the wrong message from his stance on avoiding attachments.

Given what he knew about Obi-Wan’s own feelings for Satine . . . it was quite likely Anakin saw him as a hypocrite. Which would explain why Anakin had never told Obi-Wan about his marriage.

It was something to consider going forward, Obi-Wan acknowledged. Something he would want to talk to Anakin about, after the baby had arrived and Anakin saw that Padmé would be all right.

The Jedi had always believed that Padawan and Master learned from each other. Somewhere along the way, though, he had stopped learning, and it had cost both of them. But at least now that he could see his failings, he could work to correct them. He could help Anakin.

The speeder coming to a stop snapped Obi-Wan out of his thoughts and he looked around. Anakin had docked the speeder at the private landing platform by Padmé’s apartment, but . . . he wasn’t moving.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked. “We’re here.”

“I--I know,” he said, his hands clasped together tightly in his lap.

This was odd. Obi-Wan frowned and gently touched Anakin’s shoulder. Under his fingertips, Anakin’s muscles felt like rocks.

His Force presence reminded Obi-Wan of a bantha on the verge of stampeding. Terrified, uncertain, wanting to move yet wanting to stay still . . .

He opened his mouth to prod Anakin, to remind him of Padmé, only to stop and shake his head. Of course Anakin didn’t need a reminder of Padmé in this moment.

“I promise you, Anakin, Padmé is not going to die.”

“You--you can’t--you can’t promise that, Master,” Anakin said, his voice hitching.

“Yes, I can,” Obi-Wan said, his voice equal parts gentle and firm. “Because Padmé is strong and loves you very much. And I’m sure she loves your child just as much. She is not about to leave you both behind.”

Anakin’s blue eyes were full of tears when he looked at Obi-Wan. “You--you think so?”

Obi-Wan smiled, putting all his reassurance and confidence into his voice and his presence. “I know so. Now, come along. I wouldn’t want to tell Padmé that I had to drag you to her side.”

“Ohhhh, I’d be in so much trouble,” Anakin said. He sprang to his feet and somersaulted over Obi-Wan’s head, landing lightly and taking off for the entrance to the apartment from the landing platform.

With only a pause to chuckle, Obi-Wan hurried after Anakin, following him to what must be Padmé’s bedroom--to their bedroom.

The moment he stepped into the room, Obi-Wan felt like he was intruding. Anakin paused on his way to Padmé only to give Obi-Wan a look that told him not to leave. And then Anakin was kneeling on the bed and taking Padmé’s hand, smiling at her.

“Hi, angel,” he said softly, his voice filled with so much love. It made Obi-Wan swallow as he realized just how much Anakin loved Padmé.

“Ani,” she breathed out, looking up at him. The Senator’s face was flushed, her hair sticking to her temples from the sweat trickling down her forehead. “Ani, you’re here.”

There was something strange in Padmé’s presence, Obi-Wan thought. A trace of fear, a few flickers of uncertainty, just underneath a wave of joy.

“Of course I am,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“Mr. Naberrie, I presume,” the Mon Cal healer said from the foot of the bed, where she was doing something between Padmé’s spread and bent legs.

Obi-Wan quickly looked away, catching Anakin’s wide-eyed, pleased smile. Anakin didn’t correct the healer when he spoke. “Yes--how is she doing?”

“Very well, other than a little surprise,” the healer said in an unruffled voice.

Sabé, holding Padmé’s other hand, snorted and Anakin frowned.

“A surprise?” he asked, looking over at Obi-Wan with a worried expression before looking back at Padmé.

Padmé nodded and gripped Anakin’s hand, a wide smile lighting up her tired face. “Oh, Ani--it’s twins!”

End, Chapter 5

#anidala #obitine #star wars

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