#qui gon x oc

[necrophatic]

Been a while since I drew these two

*Moses Voice* Leave that man alone!

EDIT: made it into a video lol

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 9: Ancient Implements

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, banter, medical scans/lingo, reference to injuries, exhausted Reader, descriptions of violence, anxious/concerned Obi :(

Summary: Following a rainy conversation, Obi-Wan accompanies you to the Jedi Infirmary in hopes of finding some answers about your condition from Healer Rig Nema. Consequentially, in the face of new discoveries and futile coping mechanisms, the Master Jedi is driven to finally intervene. Through an unconventional strategy, nonetheless.

Song Inspo: Broad-Shouldered Beasts — Mumford & Sons

Words: 9.4k

A/n: Hope everyone celebrating enjoyed New Year’s! Some references to events/thoughts in Star Wars: Wild Space here. No context needed, just some short moments not covered in the Prequels/TCW. So, this chapter very much sets us up for the absolute DOOZY that is the next one, so best to buckle up LOL. My bad about the delay in this one. I had to teach myself brain chemistry 🤪 (sorry to any med students reading in advance). Made up for it in length 💀

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Series Masterlist

The earth laughs in flowers — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Obi-Wan reclined, allowing his back to press against the inner glass of one of the Infirmary’s privacy dividers as he folded his arms snugly across his chest.

Internally, the Master Jedi was hoping to disguise the slight unease that crawled up and down his spine for deep concentration, furrowing his brows as if he’d entered a profound state of thought or meditation.

But no matter how carefully he postured impressions of levelheadedness in the face of your paled features, Obi-Wan couldn’t ignore the low thrum of concern that occasionally tugged on his sternum. He couldn’t help but feel the air around him thicken from newly discovering a weeks-long affliction impacting The Guardian.

Impacting you.

A being, that if ever unwell, could place a critical prophecy in jeopardy.

A being, on account of those responsibilities, he promised to protect.

It was to the point where his steadily swelling desire for some answers had languished passing minutes into what seemed like hours. All while he waited across from you for your examination to be completed.

However, once Kenobi glanced at the chronometer’s green glow on the opposite side of the observation room, he soon realized the actuality of how much time had elapsed. Obi-Wan couldn’t believe it’d only been twenty minutes since he escorted you to the Infirmary. Twenty minutes since you were both welcomed with open arms by one of the Temple’s prime physicians, Master Rig Nema, at the facility’s main entrance.

As a Healer known not to waste time, she immediately submitted an inquiry into why you were visiting. But it wasn’t until Master Nema took in your slightly sluggish form, that the doctor was quick to usher you both into a private cubicle, barely enabling the bearded Jedi to finish his symptomologicol report as he was whisked away alongside you.

Clearly, the presence of painful headaches pervading for weeks on end had stoked the Master Healer’s intrigue just as equally as it steamed Obi-Wan’s smoldering wariness. A fascination so zealous, that she pointed to and instructed the infirmary’s only two available medical droids to carry out a number of cranial scans as you all walked down the hall. Their wheeling bodies materializing by your side once the three of you entered one of the far observation rooms. Whirling and weaving to gather that first set of images before you even had the chance to sit down.

Master Kenobi couldn’t argue with the efficiency with which Master Nema accomplished her work. Nearly all of the ordered scans had been completed in a relatively short time.

But the urgency with which the doctor questioned you, while a whirlwind of droids circled your head like a pack of strike-Vultures, still had the repercussion of stoking Kenobi’s apprehension to the point of slowing down time itself. The longer Master Nema professionally fired query after query while dissonantly beeping droids traveled to and fro, the more Obi-Wan’s mind drifted to the idea that something really was wrong. And his anticipation of that theory swelled enough to knock each minute beyond his reach. As if shore waves towed sequential seconds farther out to sea.

Of course, as a broader consequence, Master Kenobi could already feel the delicate kindling of a faraway guilt emerge in his gut. Especially once he considered his delay in approaching you.

Had he spoken to you sooner, would the doctor have found her concerns to be less pressing? Would the results you were both still awaiting have proven to be more favorable?

But these thoughts only had the effect of stimulating a dull ache throughout Kenobi’s already tensed back, tightening around his spine like sentient vines as your short conversation with Master Nema reached its end.

Even as the Healer excused herself, his constant mix of disquiet and curiosity about your condition drove his eyes to follow the doctor, all the way up until her marbled head crest disappeared around the corner framing the narrowed doorway. As if her vanishing figure held the answers he sought.

Still, your mysterious affliction was not the only item that’d stoked an air of unease in the resting Jedi. Returning to the inside of the Infirmary’s borders had yanked back memories of his last dalliance with its muted decor and antiseptic aroma. The wounds he’d earned from the Battle of Geonosis were tended to by a similar set of droids in the chamber parallel to this one. A sliver of glass scarcely separated him from recollections of bruised ribs, broken bones, and an exceptionally disorienting concussion.

And, transparently, with reminders of discomfort came booming echoes of the harrowing days that bookended that medically invasive afternoon.

Memories he didn’t want to explore again.

Admittedly, in addition to masking this compounding unease, Master Kenobi had other motivations for his steadily declining posture, amplified as he leaned further back into the sturdy, sleek dividers that bordered you both. It happened to also be the only way Master Kenobi could offer you any semblance of space in such a cramped compartment. One that was so obviously designed for a single patient and no visitors.

You were tiredly perched on the infirmary bed’s side, legs dangling loosely. All while the last stubby medical droid completed a few final, even waves around your head with its hand’s built-in scanner. Yet, despite being planted in the opposite corner from the Master Jedi, the two of you still stood mere feet away from each other. A fact that was further highlighted by that same, pesky droid bumbling into Obi-Wan’s resting elbow for the fourth time as it maneuvered between you and the short wall of green luminescent data screens installed to his right.

Indisputably, it would’ve been easier to vacate these tight quarters to solve such a matter.

But Obi-Wan decided against it. He was still reticent to leave you completely alone.

Both of you knew Master Nema would be returning soon. The Healer had assured you that she’d only be gone down the hall for a few minutes to scan your results from the datapad in her private office. Yet, despite this mutual understanding, Obi-Wan immediately clocked from your shifting eyes toward the empty doorway that her brief withdrawal had fueled second thoughts about your decision to come here. This, in combination with the subtly doubting expression that stuck to your face the whole journey here, had easily convinced the Jedi Master that stepping out would’ve electrified that arch as a beacon of escape, driving you to follow those faintly perceptible impulses.

So, hence this observation, Master Kenobi decided it best to instead act as a tenuous deterrent, marking his territory between you and that sweet exit with an additional cross of his legs as he settled further into the glass wall.

The quiet beeps of scanning droids and ding of pinging monitors faded into a duller tone as Obi-Wan released his mind to wander through the events that led up to this point. It was true, that the Master Jedi had long been pondering what exactly was plaguing you in the time since you’d arrived at the Temple.

The bearded man was quite observant, first catching signs of sleeplessness during those few days on the shuttle back. And in those instances, the occasional flicker of despondency that cursorily contorted your features at the mention of his former Master’s name.

But those rare moments had never succeeded in dulling that reassuring spirit and attuned presence he’d become so accustomed to these past few weeks. It’d never challenged the composed strength that saturated your being so absolutely that it leaked from every inch of exposed skin like water from a wringing towel.

At least, not until the last week or so.

It was around then, Obi-Wan soon realized, that something had changed. And while he didn’t quite understand what exactly was occurring, he did know that some undisclosed element was uniformly snatching away threads of light from those two bright, silver eyes of yours. A physical feature that he’d recently registered as having one unintended effect:

They refreshed his senses from a mere glance alone.

Master Kenobi couldn’t deny to himself that after only a month or so of war, he’d become exhausted by not only the newly amplified duties placed upon him, but also by their militaristic, warlike nature. Missions of peace and humanitarianism had quickly devolved into defending free territories from heavily encroaching enemy lines.

The Council meetings that followed only stoked more of the same. Strategizing troop movements, assigning interplanetary campaigns, addressing casualties…

Had Obi-Wan had the ability to expose his former Padawan self to this future, he knew that young Kenobi would’ve never believed that the Jedi could ever be so entrenched in the politics and military responsibilities of a conflict at this scale.

But when he caught a flash of silver reflection from down a hall? At the corner of the refractory closest to his quarters? Near the edge of his vision in the Temple Gardens?

That weight suddenly felt just a little bit lighter.

The General wasn’t entirely sure why he became so overwhelmed with this sensation just at the mere sight of you. A sudden ease, a calmness that permeated his being in a way he’d never been able to summon on the battlefield.

Though he did have a few guesses.

You had always carried an air of serene confidence, of compassionate power, that struck at Obi-Wan’s core. Yes, these were all attributes expected of a Jedi. But your being didn’t simply carry these characteristics, Kenobi maintained. It was as if you had the artistry to will these qualities into existence from deep within your being. Like the vivid, lapping flames that encompass the entire mass of any radiant star.

And, to him, you wielded such strengths with absolute grace.

It was one such instance that Obi-Wan was still trying to wrap his head around. During your first duel with Anakin, the inclusion of one, brief conversation about his emotionally-charged behavior seemed to have knocked more sense into his impatient former Padawan than Kenobi had ever personally precipitated.

When he later inquired about the dialogue, The General readily respected your decision to keep the specifics of the exchange private. But it was when you relayed to him the vague takeaway of the power of compassion that Obi-Wan realized the reality of your statement.

That had he been in your same boots, applying that same dogma, Master Kenobi still wouldn’t have had much success.

The blue-eyed Jedi had always tried to be considerate with his former Padawan. He was hard on him at times, sure. And the two of them certainly had their many rows. But in the end, Obi-Wan always aimed to keep Anakin’s past in perspective.

He’d tried to protect him by teaching him of the importance of letting attachments go. Dispelling his fiery emotions, his ruffled history, and the people that were now a part of his past.

He tried to be a friend to him. A gentle reminder here. A reference to the Code’s importance in the life of any Jedi there. Yet still, the results were never so transformative.

And it was hard for the Master Jedi not to blame himself for that.

Though that load was slightly lifted by the hope your presence imbued.

Truly, Kenobi was thankful that one of Qui-Gon’s previous Padawans had emerged to partially aid him in fulfilling that deathbed promise he’d made to his former Master so long ago. Even if it was during a time following Anakin’s Knighthood.

Training the boy encompassed not only combat, but also the mastery of softer elements pertaining to becoming a wise Jedi capable of realizing The Chosen One prophecy. It was those latter skills that Obi-Wan never found complete success in communicating as Master to Padawan, having himself become an instructor the very same day he’d completed the Knighthood trials.

Yet, it seemed that addressing those weaknesses in his teachings came to you with relative ease. Something that made him wonder how things may have differed on the day of Geonosis had he discovered your existence earlier.

It was his inability to properly drill the importance of patience in the young boy that later led to the loss of his arm. Obi-Wan was convinced deep down, despite Anakin’s self-punishments, that in the end, it was his own fault. Kenobi’s fault for not equaling your effectiveness in addressing these matters.

Kenobi’s fault for the loss of Anakin’s arm.

Had he found you sooner, could it have all been avoided? Would you have made a connection with little Ani and trained him out of that nearly fatal mistake before he made it?

And what of the days that followed? When Anakin was recovering from that calamitous wound in this very Infirmary.

Obi-Wan vividly recalled the striking images from when he first visited his former Padawan after the battle’s devastation. He could never forget the complete agony that radiated off Anakin’s gnarled face as he stirred from a nightmare. He could never shut out from his mind those words that chestnut-haired Jedi screamed at him, red-veined eyes pulsing as he let slip his mother’s passing.

“And it’s all your fault!”

His heart clenched at the memory.

He didn’t know the details of her death, but he understood vaguely the visions which plagued Anakin in the leading days. Specters that he didn’t realize pointed to a surmounting danger.

And Anakin blamed him for it.

Would you have figured it out faster than him?

If so, then maybe, things could’ve been different.

The possibilities dashed by the delay in rescuing you from that desolate ice planet only lengthened the Jedi Master’s perceptible regret. Possibilities that would’ve become attainable through some mastery of connecting with Anakin’s being. Some familiarity so remarkable that it must’ve been willed by the prophetic elements of the Force itself long ago, Obi-Wan convinced himself.

A conclusion that left him to wonder why you were having an oddly similar effect on him.

Perhaps it was due to your separation from the war. Your lack of experience on a real battlefield freed your being from the weights chained to every Jedi who’d experienced its turmoil. Because even when news of ongoing skirmishes trickled in through visiting clones— tempering moods and gradually effervescing the bubbling anxieties among him, Anakin, and Ahsoka— you still appeared to ignite the surrounding air with sparks of anti-gravity the moment you entered the room.

When any one of them expressed concerns about the front, your soothing smile, teasing jabs, and intelligent reassurances had soon acclimatized the bearded Jedi to associate those hopeful eyes with your comforting existence, and the relaxation it imbued in him.

It was probably also why now, much like the last week in a half, Obi-Wan felt particularly disconcerted.

Without fail, he would be the first to catch on to those subtle dips in your lips in the refractory. The uncomfortable quirk of your brow in the Archives. Sometimes, even, an unexpected twitch of the nose while strolling down a Temple walkway. Always to be followed by a quiet farewell and your quick yet controlled retreat, leaving him without the opportunity to inquire about your condition without necessitating chase.

So it goes without saying that the Master Jedi was particularly relieved when Anakin approached him. Of course, not by the story of your incident in the Starfighter. But by the fact that he finally had a valid excuse to seek you out and investigate this ongoing issue. A trouble that he’d originally surmised as related to Qui-Gon before he was proven to be severely wrong.

Your reality was quite more bothersome.

Honestly, had you not been a force-sensitive being, Obi-Wan would’ve been less concerned. Headaches can be quite normal for the average individual.

But for a Jedi?

It had far more serious possibilities.

Pain in the mind could’ve pointed to an imbalance in the Force. And considering your true identity, and Qui-Gon and the Council’s reasons for hiding it, Kenobi had reason to take note.

Still though, you‘d been through a lot these past few weeks. The death of a Master. Leaving a home you’d known all your life only to be thrust into a far busier and more complicated environment. Finally facing down a dangerous legacy with galactic implications. It was an existence far more demanding than was expected of the average Jedi. Perhaps these migraines were simply a reflection of that fact, he considered.

Nevertheless, Obi-Wan wanted to make sure. He was no specialist in the medicinal aspects of the Force nor in how its energies physically manifested. And that meant the only other option was to consult someone with more expertise. Someone he equivocally trusted to make the right determination.

Qui-Gon was right. Kenobi did think about the future a little bit too much.

“Obi-Wan, if you keep staring at me like I’m about to drop dead, I’m gonna kick you out.”

Master Kenobi’s vision instantly refocused, lips parting slightly as he realized his gaze had accidentally wandered and stuck to your subtly dulled, silver orbs.

Immediately, he used his back to push off the screen, summoning a hand to check his beard’s placement in hopes of hiding the chilly embarrassment that ever so slightly crimsoned his cheeks. No matter, he doubled down, approaching you in a few steps with broad shoulders declaring self-assurance.

“You’re not getting rid of me quite that easily,” he casually quipped, dropping his arm loosely to the side once certain that brief flush drained from his ears.

At the same time, the pine-green medical droid stationed before you embraced this sudden split in the previously long-held silence as his cue. The machine wheeled around Obi-Wan, this time rudely knocking into the back of his leg in its scurry toward the screens spread out on the far wall. All the while releasing a flurry of affirmative beeps to signal the examination’s completion.

Of course, Obi-Wan’s eyes were careful not to reflect his mild agitation at the droid’s lack of spatial awareness while his gaze followed it.

Continuing to observe the green machine, Kenobi spoke, paying careful attention to its arm’s mechanical tendrils that extended into the wall’s receiver.

“I was taking the time to consider your situation.”

“What situation?” You emphasized rhetorically.

Obi-Wan’s features sobered in an effort to remind you of the potential gravity of your symptoms.

But you brushed aside his hardened brows, instead bouncing your gaze toward the uncoordinated droid as it finished retracting its arm from the console. Your vision remained locked, following its triangular head while the machine spun toward the room’s doorway, clipping the frame with an unfortunate clunk and shocked beep before reorienting itself to swerve down the parallel hall.

Even then, you extended the interval, allowing its buzzing gears and occasional clicks to grow more distant before continuing with a lowered voice.

“I went from living my life on an ice planet to now spending weeks in a much warmer climate. I’m probably not used to this environment yet. That’s all.”

The unconvinced man spied your eyes soften.

“I’d rather not be wasting medical resources for something that’s probably nothing. Especially in the middle of a war.”

Master Kenobi’s mouth twitched into a frown. “It’s not a waste if it provides the answers you’re looking for.”

“I’d agree if I believed the answers were medical,” you argued.

“This is a Jedi Infirmary,” he spotlighted. “Master Nema will be considering all phenomena that may affect a force-sensitive. Even an imbalance.”

Your brows fluttered inquisitively at this. “Is that what you think is happening? Some sort of imbalance?”

He hummed, hand reaching for his chin as his eyes drifted in thought. “I’m not quite sure. The mind of a Jedi is a complicated thing. The way in which it realizes our connection to the Force is often unpredictable. But headaches resulting from an imbalance are not unheard of,” he exhaled. “Although, I don’t feel anything strange in the space in or around you.”

Obi-Wan cocked his head, stretching out to the swirling energies around you both to confirm his observations from the last few weeks before meeting a familiar wall in the connecting strands.

“But I must admit, I do have trouble sensing your mind within the Force. So, I may be wrong.”

The nearly imperceptible sigh that escaped your nostrils drew his searching orbs back toward your lowered gaze in an instant.

“However,” he readily subsisted. “These are no ordinary scans. If these headaches are related to an imbalance, Master Nema would be the first Healer I trust to make that determination.”

But the one-sided stillness continued. The General spied your eyelids fold shut while you breathed deeply into the emptiness, kindling your despondency in such a way that it intensified Kenobi’s own discomfort. Mostly because he was growing more and more convinced that his reassurances were clearly making things worse.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear—“

“That’s ok, Obi-Wan,” you smiled at him tiredly, legs stretching as your gaze drifted toward your knees. “I heard something similar from Master Windu. If these scans don’t reveal anything, I’ll just return to those meditation sessions he suggested. They’ll have to reveal something eventually, medical or otherwise.”

Once again, Obi-Wan crossed his arms, a silent protest to the security you placed in that impractical solution. Assuming he’d properly understood your version of events from that earlier, rainy conversation, meditation had only made your migraines more unbearable.

A notion that certainly disturbed the seasoned Jedi.

Throughout his life, Master Kenobi took great comfort in connecting with the everlasting serenity that was the Force. Even as a youngling, when his imagination wandered less and less into daydreaming realms, he’d cherished these moments of silent outreach as a way to center his mind and hone his presence in the Galaxy.

But for you, in the last few days, it had only caused you pain. For you, these headaches actualized a blockade, sequestering your being from one of the most sacred acts known to any Jedi. Isolating you from peace.

And he refused to allow that to continue

Obi-Wan was dragged from his thoughts as your straightened legs limply fell back against the bedside, drawing his blue eyes toward spots of perspiration on your now stretching neck and sinking eyelids.

Seeing you like this, pushing yourself to the physical brink as a last-ditch attempt to tame these incidents, heaved upon him a draining atmosphere similar to those that weighed him down more heavily in these months of war.

Sensations he was still trying to put a name to.

But Obi-Wan didn’t need a title to know that his being was firm in at least one judgment— he didn’t want this affliction to torment you any longer.

Those words…

Name. Title.

It drudged up an abrupt thought in the ruminating Jedi. It was something you’d said. Or more, he soon realized, something Mace Windu had instructed you to do.

“Remind me,” he began with a punch, drawing your sparkling eyes toward his as he unstitched his shoulders. “Master Windu advised you to give a name to these incidents, yes?”

You nodded, eyes wandering toward the doorway as Obi-Wan continued steadfastly in his speech

“Silvey,” he called softly, drawing your attention back to him.

“What was the name—?”

“I’ve had a chance to review your scans, Silvey.”

Master Nema spoke resonantly as she materialized, carrying a polished bearing while pivoting through the open-aired doorway and toward your seated figure. Her cerulean-tinted eyelids and lips stood in stark contrast against lime-green shoulders, a distinction emphasized by bowed eyes that held affixed to the blue glow of the datapad in her dominant hand.

Regardless of the thickly sliced air, the Healer continued to evenly scroll through the device, having unknowingly cut off the previous exchange before you’d even had the chance to absorb Kenobi’s inquiry.

“And I don’t see anything of note. Just some heightened activity here.”

Obi-Wan watched as the gray-robbed Halaisi finally raised her gaze, extending the datapad toward your now curious form.

Taking the device, you scanned it quickly, eyes squinting while you mulled over some image stamped at the screen’s center beyond Kenobi’s view. Though you only mulled over the datapad for a few seconds before glancing up at the Healer candidly, a somewhat sheepish expression attempting to push through your unbending forehead.

“I’m not very familiar with the anatomy of the brain,” you admitted.

Shimming to your side without bumping into the bedside, Master Nema pointed a long, viridescent finger at the datapad. “This brighter, center portion here consists of your amygdala and hippocampus. They are responsible for several functions related to memories and emotional processing.”

She glanced at you.

“May I ask you to describe the weeks leading up to these migraines? Primarily, I’d like to know which locations you’ve visited and the activities you were engaged in.”

Obi-Wan sighed internally, biting his tongue. Even before Master Nema had finished her inquiry, the bearded Jedi was swift to realize a new issue— that your inevitable yet necessary response may undermine the accuracy of the Healer’s determinations.

And for an instant, Kenobi nearly imagined that you’d read his mind.

Not a second later, you subtly glimpsed at The General’s now very watchful stare, only to confirm with determined eyes that you knew what you needed to do.

And that he had no chance of changing your mind.

Because Master Yoda and Master Windu advised that such truths must remain hidden. As revealing your real identity could amplify the very real threat to your life. So, without their permission, your predetermined fabrication needed to become the truth to Master Nema as well.

“I’ve recently returned from a years-long mission for the Council,” you dispassionately parroted. “However, I’m unable to discuss it in detail.”

Master Nema nodded unflinchingly, having become long accustomed to the importance of discretion in most Jedi matters.

“I understand,” she relayed, retrieving the datapad from your outstretched hand. “Can you share if you’ve had any occurrences similar to these during your assignment?”

Unblinkingly, you confidently answered.

“I did not.”

“Good,” she expressed, satisfied. “Further details will not be needed.”

Lowering her arm to rest the datapad by her side, the doctor angled herself more fully toward both you and Obi-Wan as she delivered her diagnosis.

“From these symptoms and affected regions, and with no other indications of illness on your scans, I understand that you are experiencing a side effect of prolonged stress.”

Obi-Wan covertly peered at your reaction, curiously taking in the unexpected neutrality that characterized your countenance.

“Stress?” You repeated, asking for confirmation.

“Yes,” Master Nema established, unbothered by your unconvinced manner as she turned away and strolled toward the gentle green glow of busily flashing screens plastered by Obi-Wan’s side.

“It’s quite common,” she maintained, her exposed upper back greeting you both as the displays’ ceaseless stream of looping data commandeered her sight.

“But I must admit,” she noted. “I’ve only seen these cases more recently, since the war began.”

Cunningly rearranging several charts of what Kenobi saw as an assortment of disparate numbers and calculations, the Jedi Healer soon centered on a corner window before beginning the long trial of analyses inputs, gathered from the occasional glance toward her purposefully angled datapad as she expounded.

“The Jedi are involved in prolonged duties of war that they were never meant for. And without time for meditation, it has caused many to internalize these experiences. This is why the symptoms of these strains usually begin after returning to the Temple. When their bodies are given a chance to rest and connect with the Force, the effects of prolonged stress are then allowed space to materialize.”

“Materialize as headaches?” Obi-Wan questioned from his once quiet perch.

Master Nema broke away from the left screen mid-data entry, angling to face the bearded Jedi with golden-rimmed eyes and a forthright manner.

“This is the first time I’ve heard of headaches as a symptom,” she admitted. “But from the general history described, the causes appear to be the same. Also, the hippocampus and amygdala are known to respond to stress-inducing environments. And headaches are not a far stretch from the primary indicators. Lack of focus, exhaustion…”

Master Nema stretched to eye your figure thoughtfully.

“I believe you’re showing the latter.”

At that remark, Kenobi immediately noticed a chink in your impartiality as a flake of disappointment slipped past the corners of gently pursed lips.

His forehead crinkled at the trickle of confusion dripping down his hairline. Obi-Wan thought you’d be relieved to hear that this affliction was not as dire as it had the potential to be.

It appeared that the Jedi Healer must’ve noticed the same shift in expression as she offered you a diplomatic smile. Those that are often reserved by doctors for their more unfamiliar patients.

“Rest, Silvey. Meditate. Do something to take your mind off of the stresses of your mission. It’s over now.”

And, in response, you offered a simple nod.

“Thank you, Master,” you relayed sincerely, offering a flash of amicability. “I’ll try to do that.”

You pushed off the medical bed with sudden haste, toes landing on the floor gingerly as your legs briskly steered through and out the doorway. The skilled maneuverings easily drew Obi-Wan’s attention, compelling him to detect a precise shift in your most noticeable features as you passed by.

How your eyes submerged into a subtle, gray glaze, and how your jaw inappreciably tightened.

It was enough to provoke him to launch a pursuit of his own, hoping to make up for the past few weeks of mistakes in not doing exactly this. All with the intent to close the distance with your quickly departing being after exchanging a parting nod with Master Nema.

“Silvey,” he projected, pacing toward your weaving form beyond the last few cubicles that pointed to the Infirmary’s exit like an arrow.

He caught your gate slacken as you entered the connecting Temple walkway, casually pivoting toward his quick steps while you waited for him to catch up. Still, you didn’t give Kenobi a chance to finish his approach before beginning to speak unapologetically, offering a straight face and a hand on each hip as you made a particularly bold statement

“It’s not stress.”

Had he not been present in the observation room, Master Kenobi would’ve unequivocally believed your statement right then and there. From three, fearless words alone. Spoken with such sheer simplicity that it was as if you were reminding him that Coruscant’s sky was, in fact, blue.

Still, disregarding the momentary speculation your confidence imbued, Obi-Wan held onto the reality of your situation. Or, more accurately, the relative soundness of Master Nema’s diagnosis while his pace effortlessly eased by your side.

“You don’t know that,” he contested as you pivoted, carrying on your trek down the pillared and lilac-carpeted walkway while his legs seamlessly moved in sync with yours. “The history you provided may not be accurate, but that doesn’t mean stress isn’t the source. Master Nema said the scans support her diagnosis.”

“It’s not stress,” you reflexively repeated, the same, unshakable conviction as pulsing as before that locked Kenobi’s gaze onto you while you continued.

“Stress is natural. It’s our being’s way of telling us something. Reminding us to take a break. To take time for ourselves. But whatever this is,” you gesticulated into the air, hand twirling as if it was conjuring the very affliction from the surrounding pillars’ essence. “It isn’t natural. It’s different. Deep inside me, but not. Disconnected—“

From a lightning flash of sliver, Obi-Wan was temporarily taken aback as he was forced to absorb your stilled yet rich perseverance. Bleeding through eyes that whipped over to challenge his stare, drawing you both to a sudden halt.

While emphasizing each consonant, you calmly declared once more your obstinate verdict.

“It is not stress.”

For a few seconds, the Master Jedi searched your face, keeping an eye out for any inkling of a quiver in your fortitude. Any sign of withheld doubts. Any indication that there was something you weren’t comfortable sharing.

But quite immediately, The General realized that even if he’d stood there for days, all would’ve remained the same. There were no hints that you could’ve been convinced otherwise. No way for him to persuade you that stress affected the body just as mysteriously as the Force.

So, he acquiesced.

“Alright,” he acknowledged, a gentleness enveloping his tone. “For now, let’s agree that it may not be stress. You’ve been managing them with the same approaches Master Nema suggested, no?”

“I have…” you skeptically concurred. “But it’s not sustainable.”

The sound of your exhale roped Obi-Wan’s attention as you reached up to rest a palm on your eye. Your cheeks sagged in resignation, subduing your voice while you spoke.

“I guess I’ll just try to get some rest.”

Obi-Wan’s brows creased in an unpleasant recognition.

Those disjointed eyes? The carefully constructed monotonousness you’ve held since making your escape from the Infirmary?

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan was quickly becoming a master at pinpointing the signs.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” He delicately inquired.

You shook your head incredulously, a small smile inching out of the corner of your mouth as you peeked at him.

“Is it that obvious?”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure exactly why he did it. Why his arms reached for your shoulders, grasping their cold frames with a pleasant squeeze. As if some foreign entity now controlled and commanded both limbs with a set of knotted strings. A mind other than his own that believed the only way you’d hear his words was through physical and visual touch alone.

For a split second, at the base of his subconscious, with eyes locked onto yours, Kenobi speculated that perhaps it was a piece of Qui-Gon left behind that commandeered his actions. You’d mentioned to Obi-Wan that your former Master believed your stubbornness to be a considerable strength, yet a ramifying weakness. Something the bearded Jedi certainly recognized as he spent more time with you in the past few weeks.

Knowing the dearly departed, your at times cloaked stubbornness on such affairs plausibly necessitated Master Quinn to rely on similar measures to finally break through.

So why not do the same?

“Let me help you. You’re not on Hoth anymore. There are beings that can assist you here,” he frustratingly exhaled. “You told me yourself that rest has done nothing. I can provide a suitable distraction, if you’d allow me.”

Kenobi’s careful gaze caught the minute disorientation that blinked from reactive brows. You clasped your hands and, for the first time since he’d known you, an air of timidness encircled your ears.

“I appreciate the offer,” you began conscientiously, displaying a thankful smile “But that wouldn’t be fair to you. I know that there are probably a number of Council tasks you’ve sacrificed to check on me, which I appreciate. But I shouldn’t keep you away from those responsibilities any longer.”

“You and I both know that the Council’s activities have laxed since the incident with the communications system,” he securely reminded you as the bud of a perfect excuse blossomed into the puff of levity that captured his voice.

“Besides, this would be more of an exchange than a sacrifice.”

“Oh?” You uttered.

Your demure smile stretched into an infectious smirk, which only amplified Obi-Wan’s gaiety through brightened cheeks.

“You seem to have forgotten your promise,” he bantered.

Your head tilted.

“My promise?”

“The Muntuur?”

The bottom half of your face instantly transformed into a broad grin.

“Ah, yes,” you exaggerated teasingly. “How could I’ve forgotten a promise as dire as that.”

“Then you agree?” He quickly inquired. “You instruct me on how to use the device, and you can be confident that I will ask enough questions to keep your mind occupied.”

“I believe you may be on the better side of this deal,�� you poked.

Kenobi watched as your eyes wafted toward the far-reaching Temple ceilings in thought. And in pondering his request amidst the absurdity of this exchange, Obi-Wan was fortunate enough to just barely catch your attempt to stifle a laugh.

“Alright,” you feigned defeat, silver orbs flickering as you glanced at him.

“I agree.”

—

Kenobi drifted deeper into his settled posture, legs folded in angled balance as he extended his deliverance into the swirling energies of the Force. Straightening his back, his focused mind welcomed the omnipresent stream to encircle him in the empty training dojo, never to be hindered by its milky white walls nor wood-bordered panels.

Wherever he was, The General sensed this to be true. That the Force would always be with him.

Rationally, Obi-Wan knew that any second, you’d be strolling through those two gray sliding doors to join him, Muntuur in hand after retrieving it from your quarters per his request. Yet still, Kenobi found that even in the most cursory of moments, meditation proved to always be a feasible endeavor. Despite sometimes having only a few seconds to fully connect with his surroundings, Obi-Wan found that stretching into the constant flow would still center his mind in a manner that could last for hours. Perhaps days, if he’d found particular focus.

But he hadn’t always had the aptitude to enter those cavernous reflective states so rapidly. Especially as a Padawan, when his mind took a little bit more tugging to wrench it away from concerns of the future so to focus on the here and now. It was a realm he always had to strive toward. A speedy existence he’d been further compelled to master had he any hope of engaging in such comforts during the ceaseless activities of war.

A lifestyle he knew he’d be returning to soon.

From the final review of the Temple’s security system this morning, it was ultimately discovered that there had, in fact, been a leak in the communications system. Specifically, an exposed transceiver code. And, of course, of the many technical specialists and machines tasked with rooting out the issue, Artoo, Anakin’s prized blue-and-white droid, was the one to discover it.

Due to Count Dooku’s formerly wide access to sensitive Temple data, Master Yoda had decided to alter all related security measures so to ensure that the Separatists were not given a tactical advantage after The Battle of Geonosis. That included identifying and deactivating the extensive array of transceiver codes that Dooku was aware of.

But, unfortunately, it seemed that one was missed. A single line of digits once only privy to Council transmissions during Dooku’s short stint as a member, long before Obi-Wan’s time. An easy mistake that proved to have significant consequences, setting back the Republic’s stance by forcing the Jedi off the battlefield as clone battalions temporarily took command.

And just after they’d finally gotten one step ahead of the Separatists following the Republic victory on Christophsis, no less.

Either way, The General understood that he’d soon see the damage himself once given his first return assignment. A mission that would include you, considering Master Yoda’s decision to separate you from Anakin on the battlefield for the time being.

But there wasn’t time for such considerations any longer. No more musings about what the future held. Not in a time when he should’ve been blending his mind with the rippling stream.

A time cut short.

The whoosh of an automatic door releasing tickled his ears, followed by a cool gust of creeping air that further drew Obi-Wan out of his concentrative state. A quick wrench akin to similar interruptions by Commander Cody during those off-world campaigns in the months prior.

His eyelids peeled open at the new, subtle presence before him. And in the moments that followed, it didn’t take long for Kenobi to take note of your more upbeat figure, revitalized by the prospect of the coming distraction in the form of teaching a lesson on ancient implements, Obi-Wan hoped. A divertissement to be governed by The Muntuur whose glint caught the bearded Jedi’s eye.

“Excellent,” Master Kenobi expressed, raking his gaze over the half-circle metal headpiece that hung loosely from your fingertips while he untangled, placing a hand on his knee to help him stand. “Now tell me how it works.”

Obi-Wan spotted a quirk in your brows as you steadily approached, a token of entertainment at his eagerness, no doubt.

You hummed flippantly. “It would be easier to just show you, you know.”

And Master Kenobi wholeheartedly agreed, but that wasn’t why he was doing this. He couldn’t deny that he’d been ardently waiting since you told him about The Muntuur to put the apparatus to the test. But, right now, he had more important matters to address than his budding curiosity.

To focus your mind on easier topics. On the intricacies of a long-lost Jedi device. And on the concentration required to explain it to him.

And that meant putting some skin in the game.

“I’d much rather hear it from your own voice,” he contended, nonchalant gaze somewhat lowering to meet yours as your shorter, slightly amused figure stalled within arms reach of his chest.

And with your quick-beat response, it was clear to Obi-Wan that you’d in some measure caught on to his ruse.

“Well, how could I deny such a charmed request?”

A tickled smile crawled across Kenobi’s features at your faintly sarcastic tone. An expression that persisted fervently despite noticing a sincerity wash away your brief masquerade.

“I must warn you, Obi-Wan. What I’ve learned about this device was through significant trial and error. Not even Qui-Gon really understood it.”

Still, the Jedi Master’s encouraging regard never quivered. A long-held desire to grasp and digest your knowledge radiated from his being. Strong enough, it seemed, to persuade you to continue as you held up The Muntuur for easy viewing.

“If you have the imagination, and the specifications, you can program it to simulate virtually anything. Any drill or duel you can imagine. Any environment. Any foe. As long as you know the strengths, behaviors, and appearances involved in your desired program, then it can be created by inputting them here.”

Obi-Wan adjusted as you turned your back toward him to display the device’s rear. Specifically, the small, anciently designed input panel whose miniature screen emitted an amber gleam between your secured fingers.

He craned his neck farther over your shoulder, the fragrance of star jasmines wafting from your loose hair and into his nostrils as he strived to take a closer look.

“My holobooks often provided enough information for me to recreate their contents for training purposes,” you continued to explain. “Honestly, I’ve used The Muntuur so much that I still have a number of designations memorized. Including…”

Master Kenobi scrutinized the tiny display as your fluttering fingers tapped away, making selections and adjusting parameters so expeditiously that it was as if an invisible memory bank of numbers and terms were stored in your wrist. You readied the device so expertly, in fact, that the brief trailing off of your voice was smoothly picked up following the short, concentrative pinch.

“…this little guy.”

He watched while your thumb danced to the small, circular black button resting in the panel’s corner, pressing and holding it down until a startling beep cheered from the device. An unexpected noise that swiveled your figure back toward the Master Jedi, arm outstretched in offering as a barely hampered enthusiasm elevated your features.

However, with an undetermined inspection narrowing on the instrument, Obi-Wan suddenly felt hesitant to accept.

He often found comfort in understanding the more nuanced aspects of unknown technologies before diving right in, unlike his former Padawan. Consequently, The Master Jedi had honestly been anticipating a more detailed explanation. But from the rapid fire of input codes and language specifications that manifested from your exceptional proficiency, Obi-Wan now realized that, even with your guidance, such in-depth adroitness was sure to take weeks if not months.

Time he, unfortunately, did not have.

“Don’t worry,” you brightly assured, arm still extended with the gleaming metal headpiece. “The safety protocols are engaged. It won’t bite.”

Kenobi’s stare snapped toward yours as he cautiously took the device.

“Safety protocols?” He inquired, turning over the cold metal in his palms as he observed its ornate craftsmanship. “I’ve never heard of a simulation creating a safety issue.”

“It’s more than a simulation,” you elucidated, jutting a thumb toward his grasp. “Notice how there’s no visor?”

Obi-Wan flipped the device, realizing the accuracy of your statement as his befuddled eyes met its rather barren fore.

“It functions by triggering the electrical impulses in your neurons. Because it creates the simulation with your mind, certain programs need to be active to prevent the more subconscious parts of your brain from confusing artificial injuries with reality.”

“That is…quite fascinating…” Obi-Wan uttered, taking one last scan of the unique instrument before glancing at your intrigued features, captivated by a typhoon of ruminations on the device’s remarkable functions, he assumed.

“So I won’t feel pain?”

You shook your head heartily, emphasizing each word that followed. “No, you’ll certainly feel pain. But you won’t receive any grievous injuries.”

And the General’s spine stiffened from shock at this. Eyes wide as he searched your matter-of-fact countenance for clarification.

“Silvey, are you saying this device can cause real-world harm?”

“Only if the safety protocols are off,” you undauntedly reminded before your voice relaxed into a fonder, more reminiscent timbre.

“I learned that piece of programming the hard way,” you chuckled. “Qui-Gon almost threw the whole thing away after I nearly bled to death from a stab to the shoulder. A fairly treatable wound in the likes of Coruscant, I’m sure. But when you have no choice but to work with a few, expired bacta pads, it can become a little dicey.”

Master Kenobi’s once intrigued disposition had slowly devolved into a frown.

He knew this implement was old. Likely used by ancient Jedi who followed a widely contrasting set of rules in a lawless world of dark adversaries. But he never predicted that their training equipment would allow for such risk in the name of growth. There was a reason younglings learned on training sabers. So that they need not face the same life-threatening dangers that you seem to have faced every day at their age. Whether through an unpredictable apparatus or the nature of your icy asylum.

Obi-Wan barely noticed the thickening of a faintly simmering temper, mixed with frustration and confusion as he finally considered the reality of your upbringing. The bearded Jedi cared for his former Master deeply, and he clearly understood that Qui-Gon had done his best to protect you under severe circumstances. But the auburn-haired man couldn’t get over the sheer recklessness that characterized his decision-making as your custodian.

Had he not checked this device thoroughly before handing it off to a child? That didn’t sound like the wise man he’d known for all his life. Though Qui-Gon did have many responsibilities on top of your secret existence. Most of which likely prevented him from imparting the same thoroughness and circumspect to which he gifted Obi-Wan.

Still, it was no excuse.

And the longer he sat with that realization, the more your recollection ruffled Obi-Wan. Especially when your cavalier attitude proved your innocence to the underlying issue that Kenobi was so peeved by.

A reaction that you just seemed to notice, but failed to correctly attribute.

“Obi-Wan.”

You spoke gently, reaching out a cold, comforting hand to rest beneath his, providing a little extra lift in supporting the gadget’s portable weight. His eyes followed your arm, naturally landing on the two, strikingly silver orbs that relaxed his tensed muscles and unsettled thoughts with mollifying memories of uncomplicated talks and silent company.

“I promise you, you’re not gonna get hurt. I would never have agreed to share The Muntuur with you had I believed for a second it would cause serious harm.”

And there it was again. Those gentle, sparkling features that cozily blanketed Obi-Wan’s line of vision with honest poise. Accompanied by relieving words that freshly astounded him in every instant they fell from your lips.

Your life. Your upbringing. Devoid of connection and saturated with harsh dangers in an inhospitable habitat. Yes, a Jedi was expected to forgo all attachments, but this isolation had been to an extreme.

Yet every day. In every moment he had the chance to grace your presence. To get to know you. You’d shimmer like a being who’d known unconditional love from the galaxy, and was simply acting as a conduit to relay that benevolence onto others.

But that wasn’t your reality, Obi-Wan reminded himself. Besides Qui-Gon’s disbanded guidance, you had only known the cold.

Still, even that jarring refuge was likely more enticing than the prospect of facing a dark nemesis too soon.

You’d only known struggle, yet diffused compassion.

You really were something.

“I trust you,” Master Kenobi finally spoke, raising The Muntuur to secure its chilly, rigid form atop his head.

While his hands lowered, Obi-Wan felt a slight dig as the device morphed to fit his skull’s dimensions. A low, mechanical purr was followed by strange tingling sensations that danced across his temples like docile Endorian ants.

But after a few, stagnant seconds, in which a stillness recouped the air, nothing else occurred.

The Jedi Master knew that you’d intended for some program to run, yet he saw nothing. Just the dojo’s durable, cream-tinted walls supported by pillars of hickory brown wood.

“How do I know if the simulation has begun?” Obi-Wan questioned, eyes glancing toward your figure as you purposefully ambled backward to grant more clearance to the focused Jedi.

A delighted smirk tugged up at your countenance from chin to ears as you slowed to a halt about twelve meters away.

“Oh, trust me. You’ll know.”

A deep, guttural roar bellowed from behind, provoking a somewhat startled Master Kenobi to detach his lightsaber mid-whirl as he faced the blare with the blade’s instantly ignited, blue glow.

Coiled into a stalking pose at the opposite wall was the brown-gold body of a particularly irate Nexu. Its four, beady red eyes pierced Kenobi’s senses, drawing considerable attention to the broad set of dagger-like teeth that stretched across half its face as the beast soon began to circularly prowl. The inchmeal movements of its sharp claws and flicking tails quickly compelled Kenobi to step into a cautious counter, sidestep after sidestep so to avoid closing that precarious gap.

“I believe we have different definitions of what qualifies as a ‘little guy!’” Obi-Wan sarcastically called out, his readily extended saber maintaining the standoff while he kept a slow, methodical distance.

“I think he’s kinda cute!” You gushed.

Obi-Wan’s head whipped to stare at you in utter disbelief, hoping to communicate his complete disagreement with such a statement. In fact, he manifested with his eyes alone the question of whether you were truly seeing the same ghastly brute as him.

But any answer he sought would have to wait, it appeared. The momentary glance at your chuckling figure was cut short by the beast’s consciousness of Kenobi’s brief distraction.

Its paws struck the ground with a sharp crack, signaling the Nexu’s powerful charge toward Obi-Wan as the latter’s attention snapped back toward the rapidly closing-in creature. One, he now noticed, whose approach could be viscerally sensed, further persuading the Master Jedi to poise himself for the coming strike that he felt through the surrounding flow.

“I can feel its movement within the force!” He called out while dodging a quick slash of the right set of claws. “How is that possible?!”

“It’s part of the programming,” you leveled candidly while Obi-Wan sprinted for a better vantage point toward the far wall, slithering beast on his tail.

“I think that’s why Qui-Gon assumed it was built for the Jedi,” you continued. “Never could figure out how that part worked.”

Drawing on the stream around him as he reached the dead end, Kenobi leapt onto the wall, maintaining his momentum while he followed its architecture around the training room.

Still, the slobbering huffs of the Nexu stayed close behind, especially once the creature’s biting claws lodged into the same partition, empowering it to launch into a rather slippery chase while its talons fought against the smoother sectionals.

However, the agile Jedi persisted, formulating a plan as his eyes locked onto an abruptly nearing corner.

With the blustering beast just a few steps behind, Kenobi broke away toward the opposite intersecting wall. Then, with cold air resisting against his face, Obi-Wan exercised the boost to reach and thrust against this new push-off point, barreling into a flip back toward the growling beast that still struggled to skitter across this raised vantage point.

Swiftly, while the Master Jedi glided midair, Kenobi brought down his blue luminescence to slash at the Nexu’s back. It was in that instant, that he successfully severed several of its sharp quills, a pink ooze soaking the creature’s fur while it wailed out in agony.

Embracing the Force to cushion his descent, Obi-Wan partially floated to the stone floor, toes centering his landing as the beast once clawing across the dojo wall writhed into a short plummet, striking the floor with a boom just meters beyond his feet.

Kenobi watched on while the Nexu pitifully rolled to its side, emitting a flurry of pained squeaks and whimpers in its parade to expose its underside, a symbol of surrender.

But that white flag wasn’t what prompted Obi-Wan to abruptly unfasten The Muntuur from his skull and end the program, leading the now docile Nexu to fade into nothingness as the device hummed through its deactivation.

No.

Instead, the slightly panting Jedi’s attention was seized by a sudden burst of laughter from the far corner, flinging his bewildered yet slightly curious gaze toward your bent-over form leaned against the dojo’s gray doors.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just, this is the first time I’ve seen someone use The Muntuur from an outside perspective and I’m—” Another fit of giggles poured out of your gut, squeezing Obi-Wan’s brows to raise in delight at the sound.

“I’m just now wondering how Qui-Gon kept a straight face! With nothing there for me, it just looks like you’re running around in circles, and—“

Another howl of laughter colored the air, touching his chest with a strangely familiar sensation. One that he couldn’t quite clearly recall, but knew still that it had been something he’d experienced a couple times a year as a young Padawan.

On those few evenings in the fall when his training had ended early for the day, young Kenobi would run off to the Glitannai Eslpanade to experience the Festival of Stars. And while he appreciated the joy of dancing beings and the artistry of performative acrobatics, he’d only really had one motive for sneaking off with a nut brown robe tightly concealing his Jedi identity amongst the bustling crowds.

It was to gawk at the falling Ithorian rose petals, flung from the sky like euphoric tears at each year’s parade on Coruscant.

A sight he could never drag his eyes away from, no matter how hard he tried.

This wasn’t exactly what Obi-Wan had planned when he decided to focus your mind on matters separate from those stress-induced headaches. But he certainly wasn’t going to complain about finding success through other means. The undeniably beaming expression on your face meant that something he did had lessened the headache that’d emerged following your infirmary visit, at least.

Perhaps that was what gave rise to his inner appreciation for your enlivened state. Because when he heard your laughter spring throughout the room, it confirmed for him that he’d finally taken a little bit of your pain away.

And that idea alone tugged fiercely at his facial muscles, coaxing him to give rise to a smile.

But Obi-Wan shoved that down, instead adopting a rather unimpressed gaze as his voice oozed with sarcasm.

“I’m pleased you find my defensive techniques so amusing.”

Taglist

@js-favnanadoongi

@panandinpain0

@randomwriter435

@soleywoley

@burnthecheshirewitch

[sonofthedunes]

🖤

thank you!! hmm, let’s see what kind of mood i’m in tonight—

when andrie begins learning lightsaber dueling techniques, she gravitates toward form iv, which you also might know as ataru. it’s a pretty physically demanding style that’s heavy on offense and relies quite a bit on force augmentation—a good fit for someone with andrie’s temperament. she also incorporates some of form v (shien/djem so) bc that’s what luke typically uses, as well as form iii (soresu) bc luke learned it from obi-wan. through a great deal of practice and study their fighting styles eventually mesh well together, and the skywalkers make a formidable team in combat

[darlingkairos]

Quigon and my oc lol

[comebackali]

so i'm finally reading master & apprentice and apparently claudia gray is my BEST FRIEND because disney was like, "hey, after the successes of the other books you've written for us, do you wanna maybe write a prequels book?' and she was like, "oh abso-fucking-lutely. here's 430 pages of qui-gon being a dick to babywan and making him feel like absolute shit about himself xoxo ❤️❤️❤️" and the good people of disney star wars were like, "that's great john you can go ahead and order it."

[honeyed-pines]

Jedi Master Vokke Jispra

( 83 BBY - 19 BBY)

More about him below!

[astrajinn]

Once Upon a Time… A Daughter

The Viceroy and his advisor were captured, Anakin returned with the other pilots to the hangar and was greeted with praise for his achievement in blowing up the base. The next day, things seemed to be proceeding normally in Naboo. The council members and now Chancellor Palpatine had arrived, one to inspect everything and the others to bid farewell to their comrade.

"Congratulations on your election, Chancellor," the queen celebrated when she stood in front of him.

"Your bravery, Majesty, saved our people and deserves congratulations. Together we will achieve peace and prosperity in the Republic. Although, if you'll allow my curiosity, I have been informed of the death of Master Qui-Gon Jinn. I would like to extend my condolences to young Astra Jinn."

"Astra Jinn, just like her master," she murmured in astonishment.

"Did you not know about this, Your Highness? The young one was the master's daughter."

By sunset in one of Naboo's chambers, Obi-Wan was on his knees, awaiting the verdict of Master Yoda, who walked impatiently in front of him.

"With the appointment of Jedi Knight, the council honors you, but to the child you accept as your apprentice Padawan, in agreement I am not," the master reproached, hitting his cane against the floor.

"Qui-Gon believed in him," he reminded, causing the master to sigh and lower his ears sadly.

"The chosen children they may be. However, in the training of the boy, I sense grave risk."

"Master Yoda, I gave my word to Qui-Gon. I will train Anakin, even if the council does not authorize it."

"The challenge of Qui-Gon I sense in you, and that you do not need. Agree with you; the council is. Your apprentice Skywalker will be. But if you ask me about training Astra, saying no is my duty. Another master for her there must be."

"Do you think she will wake up, Master? If she sleeps longer, she won't be able to say goodbye."

"The best, perhaps that is, pain, a sad path to the dark side can be."

On the night of the third day after the defeat of the Federation, in a temple in Theed where tears were shed for the fallen heroes, the cremation of Qui-Gon's body took place. Apart from the participants in the battle, such as Queen Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Captain Panaka, Anakin Skywalker, the council masters, high-ranking officials, and citizens of the Gungan and Naboo peoples gathered to pay their respects to the fallen master.

"What will happen to me now?" Anakin asked, looking at the body of the supposed master turning to ashes.

"The council has given me permission to train you. You will become a Jedi, I promise."

"And what about Astra? I haven't seen her in days; she didn't even come to say goodbye to Qui-Gon."

One of the things requested from the soldiers and palace personnel was not to reveal the state of the girl, who had not yet woken up. Only the closest ones had knowledge, including Obi-Wan, the council, and the queen herself, who on the second day ordered that the girl be taken to her personal quarters to have all possible comforts during her recovery.

"There is no doubt that this mysterious warrior was a Sith," Master Windu affirmed.

"Always two there are, no more, no less," Yoda corroborated. "A master and an apprentice."

"But who was destroyed? The master? Or the apprentice?"

While this was happening, no one thought that on a distant planet, a woman of great beauty embraced a worn-out robe while crying bitterly for the loss of her loved one. She looked at the stars in the sky of her planet and wondered what would become of her now or how long destiny would take to reunite them. The Force was strong in her, but she felt lost as she perceived how her energy vanished from the galaxy permanently, leaving her behind.

At dawn on the fifth day, a grand celebration took place, commemorating the union between the Naboo and the Gungans. The ships piloted by the Naboo soared through the skies at great speed, while the Gungans played music with drums and trumpets, crossing the streets or carrying banners. People waved ribbons with joy, and children tossed petals into the air. They welcomed Chief Rugor Nass of the Gungans. The queen wore a beautiful white dress, the chancellor and the senator wore elegant suits, Captain Panaka donned his freshly pressed uniform, and the Jedi wore their well-arranged robes, including Anakin, who now even had the Padawan braid, and R2-D2 was once again cleaned to shine that day. When the king finished climbing the stairs, Padmé walked towards him and handed him the peace globe, to which he raised it proudly and exclaimed.

"Peace!"

Winning cheers from all those present. The party continued that night, but Padmé retired to her room with her handmaidens. She changed out of her dress and into something more comfortable before kneeling by the bed and taking Astra's hand, who, by how much she tossed and turned, seemed to be having a nightmare.

"Calm" she whispered, stroking her hair. "I'm here now, little one, everything will be fine."

"Your Highness, if you allow me, I can take care of her."

"No, Sabe, I will take care of her. I want you to talk to the Jedi masters and tell them that I disagree with their idea of taking her to Coruscant tomorrow."

"My lady, she is a Jedi. Shouldn't she be with her own?"

"If she's in this bed, it's because of me, so I want to take care of her until she wakes up."

"You can't keep blaming yourself, Your Highness" another one argued while removing a tray with food.

"She lost her father because of my stubbornness, Duja" she wiped her tears as she did every night. "She just turned nine. How do you tell a nine-year-old girl that she will never see her father again? The person should be protecting."

"Padmé."

"it's every little girl's first love, and I took hers in the cruelest way possible."

"You weren't wielding the saber" trying to console her, they sat by her side with a glass of water and a spoon.

"Was that what I lacked? She didn't even see him for the last time; she was protecting me while he losing his life" she straightened the girl's head and tried to give her small spoonfuls of water, as she did every day, to prevent dehydration.

"Your Highness, I didn't know he was her father. How could I suspect it? Jedi don't even have partners."

"I didn't want to see it! How he carried her, how he protected her. That love in their gazes. He sent her with me knowing that it was less risky to take care of me than to face the Sith. Honor, power, wealth, courage, or respect in this entire galaxy; they are useless if I can't ease this guilt or the pain of an innocent child" she sighed before ordering. "Out."

"Your Highness"some tried to object.

"Out, I said get out" she yelled, and they all collected their things and left. "Forgive me, Astra, it's my fault that you lost your father, and I can't bring him back. But I promise you I will try to make amends for this harm" she picked her up and walked to her balcony to let her feel the cool night air. "You won't have to protect me anymore. Now, I will take care of you, Astra, I promise. I will give my life if necessary to protect you and those you love."

Convincing the council was impossible, and at noon the next day, they placed her in a cabin on the ship they had come on and departed for Coruscant with the promise to notify Padmé when the girl woke up. Master Yoda's lightsaber was returned to its owner by Captain Panaka, who found it after the fight, and Astra's speeder was handed over to Obi-Wan to take care of. Now, in the temple, it was practically impossible to hide the condition of his friend from Anakin. The moment the boy found out, he developed the habit of going to visit her after his training but before dinner. He sat in a chair next to the bed and told her about his day and what he had learned.

That went on for at least three weeks until one day the girl opened her eyes and inspected her surroundings to orient herself. Until Obi-Wan came in and helped her sit up.

"I'm glad you're awake, Astra. We feared the worst."

"How long did I sleep?" she asked, feeling her throat dry and her voice strange.

"Four weeks."

"Where's dad?" she inquired, noticing that he wasn't by her side as he always was when she got hurt.

"Astra, it was a complicated mission." he argued, trying to lay her back down.

"Obi-Wan"

"You need rest; I'll explain everything, but you need to rest."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, do you have ten seconds to tell me, where my father is" she demanded, struggling to get up.

"He didn't survive, Maul… The Sith we fought stabbed him, and he didn't make it."

"It can't be" she whispered, feeling her soul leaving her body.

"You need to know that he loved you. Astra, he thought of you until the last moment, and if there had been another way, a way to avoid it, I'm sure."

She stopped him, getting off the bed "Yes, there was. There was another way!"

Contrary to what anyone might believe about a girl who had been unconscious for weeks, deprived of food, and with limited water. Astra got out of bed, stopping Obi-Wan, and walked through the halls with such great anger running through her veins that anyone could swear she would destroy the temple if she wished. But that wasn't her goal; her goal was the council chamber where the masters were currently discussing, as they had every day for the past few weeks, who would be the girl's master, thinking she was unconscious.

When the doors opened, no one could believe what they saw. Astra was standing, with such a firm posture that she seemed about to enter into combat. Her hair was completely loose, reaching down to her hips, and the cotton pajamas that touched the floor, combined with her small stature, gave her an almost angelic appearance.

"Is it true?" she asked, standing in front of them.

"Young Astra?"

"Is it true?" she asked again with an empty gaze. "Is Qui-Gon dead?"

"I'm afraid so" Windu was the first to answer.

"If he had stayed in the temple as I asked, it could have been avoided" she asserted, feeling tears flood her eyes.

"We all regret his death; his sacrifice clarified the facts, and we are doing everything in our power to stop the Sith."

"I lost my master, I lost my best friend, the only person who tried to understand me. My father! And you say you regret his death!" she shouted, astonishing those present. "I lost a loved one because of your damn pride and arrogance that blinded you, preventing you from seeing the evil growing like a parasite in the shadows. And you say you regret something!"

The disturbance in the Force caused by this little girl was more than any of those present could have imagined, alerting Anakin, who had not felt his friend wake up. He ran in her direction with the intention of helping. But when he arrived, he saw her standing in the middle of the council chamber, tears running down her cheeks and fists clenched, shouting that no one could understand that pain. So, she would make them all feel it. The masters seemed to be struggling desperately for a little air, and it took the padawan a few seconds to understand. It was Astra; she was so angry and hurt that she was strangling them with the Force. Perhaps unknowingly, perhaps intentionally, but he couldn't allow it.

"Astra, Astra, you have to stop."

Anakin shouted as he tried to reach her, but an energy sphere seemed to hold him back.

"Astra, please, you wouldn't hurt anyone" he called out through that strange connection, which, amplified by the display of force from the girl, was noticeable to those present.

"He's dead, Anakin. Qui-Gon is dead. They took him from me, Anakin. They deserve to suffer just like me " she murmured, still crying.

"I know, it's true, they deserve it, but Qui-Gon wouldn't have wanted this" he tried to take her hand, but it was impossible. "He loved you, he wanted the Astra I knew, the one who wanted to save her companions even at the cost of his life."

She fell to her knees, loosening her grip on the throats of the masters "I'm alone, Ani, I have no one."

"That's not true, Astra, you have me" he hugged her in an attempt to shield her from the consequences of what she had done. "I will take care of you, and you will never be alone again. Now, I'm a padawan, and I'll be able to pilot a ship, and you will be the best Jedi in the galaxy."

"I don't want to be alone."

"You're not alone; I will always be with you" he promised, unaware that this would not come true.

"Qui-Gon wanted you to be a Jedi" she wrapped her arms around his torso and let the masters fall. "He believed we could bring balance. Do you believe it?"

"Yes, but you have to heal. Rest; I won't leave you."

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Chut Chut Pateesa

How are you? I hope you're doing well. We're just 3 chapters away from finishing this first season and 3 days away from the much-awaited Festival of Light.

I hope you know that I create this story with all my love for you, and I take extra time trying to edit the images the best I can to relate to the chapters. (I would usually write more, but I'm dying of sleepiness. Let me tell you that taking care of younglings is ten times more challenging than training a padawan. How does Master Yoda do it?) Anyway, as always, I ask you to comment, give likes, and now go follow me on my accounts on:

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Take care of the Sith, and remember that "they are what they are, and you shouldn't expect them to understand." May the Force be with you.

[buttybarnes1917]

Sahsahlah, or “The Land of Wise Fools”

AN: It’s been a really long time and a lot has happened since I last tried writing, but I figured I might as well give it another try. My goal is to have this finished and posted by the end of the year, but that might shift a little with time! As always, please comment/share if you like my work!!

A Long Time Ago, in A Galaxy Far Far Away…

Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi have killed the Sith Lord Darth Maul, although his master’s whereabouts are still unknown. Defeating Maul ended with Obi-Wan passing the trials and becoming a Jedi Knight. Qui-Gon is currently training Anakin Skywalker. Instead of taking a Padawan, Obi-Wan is a Knight in his own right, opting to go on more diplomatic missions alone, working on his negotiating skills and making connections within the senate. A year after Maul’s death, Obi-Wan is well known throughout the galaxy for his skills at debate, as well as his lightsaber prowess. Obi-Wan, to many younglings and Masters alike, is the perfect Jedi Knight, although he doesn’t feel as though he has earned that title. Obi-Wan has been called back to Coruscant in order to help solve a mystery. The young Representative from Corellia has had multiple death threats regarding her and her father’s work involving the Banking Clan, and the new Chancellor, Palpatine from Naboo, is worried for her safety. As Obi-Wan heads back to the planet he once called home, he senses more is happening than he might be first expecting and is more than a little surprised when he sees a face from the past…

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[sithfamily]

Dooku never was a "real" jedi

POV: When your padawans, daughter and grandson are the same...

Semage: Why...

Dooku: I don't know!

Semage: How you don't know?! They are your children!

Dooku: It just happened!

[wild-karrde]

Test link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41781066/chapters/104822424

Imma plug the shit out of this fic cuz I love writing it and need validation.

HECK YES, WE LOVE SELF-PROMOTION AROUND THESE PARTS! And it's a repeat (someone else rec'ed you the first time I believe). The tag "ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN" is already calling to me because if there's one thing I know, it's that I enjoy getting my feelings hurt in the form of fanfiction. *prepares to get emotionally wrecked*

Thanks for the rec!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[violetjedisylveon]

I had a crazy Star Wars AU idea, lemme tell you bout it

It's based on the idea of some Jedi lady showing up and having Anakin with Shmi, he's still the chosen one and it works cause he still doesn't have a father because they conceived through the Force.

And Anakin's Jedi mom is chaotic good sometimes batshit crazy force to be reckoned with. Just like him.

I expanded on the concept under the cut:

It starts with this one Mirialan Jedi knight, Imma call her Zelli, going to Tatooine to help with some of the problems there, like slavery and all that shit.

She wasn't sanctioned by the order and did this by herself, and she was just another missing Jedi of that time to the order.

Zelli got to Tatooine and set up in Mos Espa to get to work, she started scouting the city for anyone who would need help, obviously keeping the Jedi thing a little secret, and started doing some good work for the people there where she could.

Then she meet a slave woman named Shmi Skywalker and started to help her out with all that stuff and eventually wound up just killing Watto when she found him punishing Shmi.

So Shmi is free now.

And they start to work together to get more done in Mos Espa, Shmi had more knowledge of underground opperations by slaves and people advocating/helping the slaves out, and Zelli had the Force and tactical training.

They did lots of work together and fell in love eventually.

Stuff happens and they topple the corrupt government of Mos Espa and replace it with one of their own and the Hutts leave it alone cause this Jedi is a little crazy and they don't wanna mess with her cause she could destroy them. Zelli is a crazy chaotic good type of person.

The Jedi and Republic still have no idea what's going on here by the way.

Shmi and Zelli get married, Zelli is a Skywalker now, and continue fighting corruption on Tatooine.

They adopt some orphan kids, and conceive a baby with the Force and boom, Shmi is prego with baby Ani.

He still the Chosen One, the Force decided Shmi and Zelli could make the chosen one for it. The Force supports gay rights.

Zelli noticed that Anakin was Force sensitive, she wasn't surprised since she and Shmi literally conceived him through the Force, and chose not to mention it to anyone and do some basic training by herself with him.

So instead of being a slave, Anakin's parents are some of the most well known and wel respected warriors and leaders on Tatooine and they are awesome and loving and the best.

Tatooine is a lot better off by the time of the battle of Naboo, and when Qui-gon and co land, they are surprised by the change because no one was paying attention to Tatooine for at least twenty years.

The Hutts are totally gone now and an efficient, powerful, functional non corrupt government took it's place and the Tusken Raiders are valued and respected as the original inhabitants of Tatooine basically the entire planet wound up like Boba when he was with the Tuskens at the end.

Shmi and Zelli are the leaders of Mos Espa alongside a Tusken chief, Shmi got really good at politics, so Qui-gon meets with Shmi when looking for a hyperdrive, Zelli is also a very good mechanic and taught Anakin a lot of what she knew and they have their own repair shop in the Mos Espa gov building because fuck it, Zelli does what she wants, so they have a hyperdrive for sale in their shop.

It is very awkward when Qui-gon both notices that this mechanic-leader is a Jedi and knows who she is.

Everyone assumed she'd been dead for like, twenty-five years.

Zelli sells the hyperdrive and tries to get Qui-gon to leave before he notices Anakin because she wants to train him and keep him a secret until he's older.

Qui-gon does see Anakin, he was pretty easy to pick out among all their other adopted children, he's the only human-Mirialan hybrid so Qui-gon kinda puts two and two together.

He asks Shmi about him and who Anakin's father is and gets the he has no father bit from the movie but added that she and Zelli conceived him with the Force, so he still fits the chosen one prophecy.

He brings this up to Zelli and that Anakin should be taken to the temple and they argue about it, eventually they come to the agreement that they should see what the counsel says.

One of Ani's older siblings is left in charge of the shop when they go to Coruscant. Shmi goes with them too and when Maul attacks for the first time, he is fought off by Shmi and Zelli cause he was gonna kill their son for no frickin reason.

It goes the way the movie does, but with Zelli getting a bit of a scolding for all she did but they do agree that she did more in ~25 years than the Republic or Jedi did in 3000 for Tatooine and is clearly doing something right.

The Jedi decline Qui-gon's request to bring Anakin into the order, and Zelli says I told you so before offering Qui-gon, and maybe Obi-Wan, a place on Tatooine if they really wanted to help train Anakin.

They all go to Naboo and the Skywalker family takes out the battleship together while Qui-gon and Obi fight Maul(he didn't fight Zelli cause he's scared of her now, do not mess with any of her family you will not survive)

Unlike most of the Jedi, Zelli picks up bad vibes from Palpatine, and consistently puts herself between the creepy old guy with groomer vibes and her son. And since Anakin has parents in this au, he's not as susceptible or vulnerable to Palpatine's manipulation, he's got less trauma to be used against him.

Zelli and Shmi allow Obi-Wan to be Anakin's offical Jedi appointed mentor, but they still do stuff with him, so Anakin is less insecure in general and able to talk about his emotions and the crush he has on Padmé.

Obi-Wan basically winds up getting adopted by Shmi and Zelli and he just goes with it cause why not.

They were at the "secret" wedding of Anakin and Padmé, they shared it cause they are proud mamas, it's basically an open secret.

The clone wars still happens, Shmi and Zelli decide to have Tatooine be neutral, Anakin gets Ahsoka to train and she gets adopted into this crazy family too as Anakin's child/sister.

And Anakin DOES like sand, there's no negativity around it now and it reminds him of home and good things.

Ahsoka just moves to Tatooine after leaving the Jedi, Zelli conceived her to.

In rots, there is definitely a baby shower cause the Skymoms are very happy for their son and, Palpatine has a lot less to turn Anakin to the darkside with, so there's three options here.

1, Palpatine tries to take over, it outed/killed as a sith lord and the one who started this war and all the problems for the galaxy and, cause the Republic is already pretty ineffective already, it gets replaced with something functional and way better and everything is great!

2, Palpatine does get the Empire and executes order 66, but has no Vader so a lot more Jedi survive. Now the Skymoms, who now control Hutt space cause why tf not at this point, put all their effort into being the biggest pain in the ass for the Empire, all that rebellion stuff happens as it does, only now Hutt space is backing all rebellions and Darth Vader do nit exist and so Padmé is not dead and happy Skywalker family, minus Ahsoka for a bit, she's busy getting a farmer girlfriend but she'll join eventually.

3, Vader somehow does happen and so the Skymoms give Vader a scolding and talk him out of the darkside cause obviously this would kill Padmé, then Vader ends up crying for a bit cause he just killed a bunch of children. And the Skymoms give the biggest beat down the Sith have ever faced.

In the case of the second option, when the first order shows up, they pop out from Hutt space to again be a pain in ol Palpy's side and just hang around the rebellion giving thumbs up to all the awkwardly queer rebellion baby's attempts at flirting. Yeah I know they'd be super old but what the hell, this is already a crazy ass idea anyway.

Thiz is what happens when I have ideas and ni supervision or guidelines or not specific enough guidelines, I get creative and I get crazy and you all get to deal with whatever bs is the result. Ngl, this idea is a very fun brain toy!

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 4: Arrival (Part 1)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: mention of slavery, mention of character deaths, reference to life-threatening danger, sleep deprivation, sorrow, angst, stern Mace, fluff, banter, some reader/Anakin bonding :) and worried Obi :(

Summary: The days leading up to your arrival have been cumbersome for both you and Anakin— the two of you struggle together with these life-altering changes thrust in front of you by the Galaxy. As the group reaches Coruscant, new revelations are made that further urge Obi-Wan to meet with The Council as soon as possible: to discuss your discovery, and its consequences.

Song Inspo: Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up) — Florence + The Machine

Words: 6.1K

A/n: Ahhhh!! You all are so lovely. Hope you like this chapter. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts in the comments (and message if you'd like to be on the taglist!)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Hibernation is a covert preparation for a more overt action — Ralph Ellison

“A war…”

Anakin’s hand loosely tilted a throttle lever to the right as the shuttle approached Coruscant only a few thousand kilometers away. Its spherical body crept into the viewport like a loth-cat poised for attack while your voice filled the cabin.

The peaceful lull of space gave the young Jedi a moment to glance back at the conversation taking place. He looked beyond Ahsoka, who was cozied up in the shuttle seat directly behind him, legs thrown over an armrest and a Datapad resting comfortably against her knees. As she typed away, you sat beside her quizzically, eyes fixed in an aimless direction with a cheek resting gently on your fingertips in thought.

You’d inquired twelve hours into the trip about galactic events that occurred during your last ten years of total isolation, and it took the remaining two days for Obi-Wan to provide you with a very abbreviated version. The wise Jedi spent much time on The Order’s growth throughout the years and various blips in the peace, like the Invasion of Naboo. Only in the last few hours did he arrive at the topic of the Separatist war. Your shock at being for so long completely unaware of the galactic battles taking place was palpable.

Anakin delved deeper into his memories of the last few days in this cramped, rickety shuttle as it traversed from the Outer Ring across the galaxy. Specifically, those late nights in which he chose to keep the ship off autopilot and fly it manually, long after Master Kenobi and Ahsoka had fallen asleep in the back.

In the dimmed lighting, his mind still rushed with questions about your discovery. He had anxiety about what your sudden appearance in his life meant, and frustrations from not being informed of your existence. So Anakin decided it would be easier to manipulate the bird’s mechanisms himself. To keep his mind from wandering too far into further misgivings.

On both such quiet evenings, he recalled your restlessness. You shuffled aimlessly in the rear cabin, from your back to your side, and after a few seconds, to your stomach with a defeated plonk. Eventually, after many noisy readjustments, he’d hear an exasperated sigh before you’d roll over and rise to your feet. He’d sense you quietly sneak up behind the co-pilot’s seat and, each night, you’d unceremoniously plop down beside him, leaning back with arms crossed and staring out the viewport as if it was just the lullaby you’d needed.

He’d peer at you, noticing your subtly sunk in eyes, before once again making the same comment.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah.”

And after a few drawn-out moments filled with only the silent hum of the shuttle’s engines, he’d ask a question. Nothing grandeur or serious. Just anything to lead to a conversation. To pass the time.

“Have you ever thought about where you’d want to visit? After leaving Hoth?” He spoke lowly.

And your head cocked with an imaginative gaze stuck ahead before answering with a small smile.

“I’ve always wanted to play grav-ball, and I’ve heard Nubia has some of the best teams. So probably there.”

Anakin nodded approvingly. “Coruscant has them too.”

And your smile widened as you twisted toward him. “Really?”

Then your interest was piqued. And you’d continue the conversation or make some completely unrelated, lighthearted query. Either way, the two of you would talk for hours during those calm nights in the old, decrepit shuttle.

It was during these late-night talks, that Anakin had the chance to uncover more of who you were. He brushed away at your sentiments, uncovering your interests like hidden gems while simultaneously sharing his own. The both of you seemed to have a great deal in common.

And that helped ease his mind.

Anakin turned back to the controls to prepare the shuttle for approach as it neared the planet’s gravitational pull, shutting off the main ion drives.

“And the Jedi as Generals? Controlling an army of clones?”

He watched as you shook your head and sighed, pressing your lips together as if mourning a memory.

“I always thought The Order was built to preserve peace in the Galaxy. Qui-Gon always made that clear. The Jedi were protectors, not stokers of conflict.”

“The Jedi have always been and will prevail as keepers of the peace.” Obi-Wan clarified.

His stance held firm behind the co-pilots seats, leaning against it with arms crossed as he analyzed your reactions carefully.

“We act in this war to do just that. The cohesiveness and strength of The Republic would be destroyed if The Separatist Alliance remained. You know as well as most from your studies that an existence like The Old Republic would act as an open cut to agents of the Dark Side.”

Anakin noticed as your eyes misted over in a dazed fashion.

“Forces like Maul…” You murmured.

Exhaling soberly, Anakin digested your solemn expression. Watching your mind struggle to process this newfound mountain of information was bringing back his own troubling memories from his youth. He never was the strongest enthusiast for change, and some of the most extreme adjustments he’d made involved similar exposure to newly dire circumstances. Whether that be learning he’d be hungry for another day, or of some plan to sell him off to another slave owner like cheap merchandise.

As a boy, he found himself best distracted from these circumstances by a new tinkering project, or by those rare moments of frivolity in such tumultuous times.

Yet here he was, already focusing his mind on fiddling with the outdated shuttle in front of him as he had done for the past few days. An expression of levity seemed to be the next logical step, he thought.

“Well, remember?” He grinned at you lightheartedly. “You don’t need to worry about him anymore. Master Kenobi put him in his place.”

Anakin observed as the corner of your mouth twitched upwards, stirring his own to take a wider stance. The momentary lift in your spirits was short-lived, although, as your lost eyes lifted from the floor, disoriented by your mind.

“It’s almost poetic.” You mused, a rueful chuckle falling from your lips. “The very beings my Master protected me from destroyed him in the end.”

Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan who stroked his beard inquisitively as he mulled over your words in profound concentration. His narrowed gaze briefly met Anakin’s as if searching his irises for an answer to some distant, dubious puzzle.

The former Padawan raised a brow at his Master’s countenance, silently asking what he did to warrant such an expression. Then, Obi-Wan’s lips abruptly parted in realization as he spun back toward you. Anakin took that as his cue to refocus his energy on the rapidly approaching planet whose gravitational field pulled them forward, marking the bird at only a hundred kilometers away.

“Qui-Gon did protect you…” Obi-Wan suspired earnestly as if hearing his own words for the very first time.

He gesticulated with a hand. “His final moments, his face, is forever etched into my mind.”

Kenobi’s sentence broke off. The pensive Jedi opened and closed his mouth a few times while he formulated his thoughts, as if questioning the significance of each word.

“In the thousands of times I’ve gone over his death, I was always taken by the complete peace, the confidence, with which he entered The Force.”

He paused once more, lips tugged upward and eyes glossed in wonder.

“It was because of you.”

Anakin spun fully around, facing the two of you as Obi-Wan dotted that final claim. He noticed your head shoot up at them from its lulled position.

“What do you mean?” You inquired, your eyes adrift in a sea of perceptible perturbation.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Anakin piped up bewildered.

He prayed to the Maker that his former Master wasn’t in any way implying that you had anything to do with his Qui-Gon’s death.

Yet Obi-Wan was undeterred by the assortment of sentiments swirling around him.

“When he first discovered that Maul was a Sith.” He began excitedly. “He must have realized the threat to you. Yes, he was protecting you from the Sith for most of your life, but The Order hadn’t encountered them for a thousand years. And yet, he appeared before Qui-Gon on Tatooine, and then…Naboo.”

Obi-Wan exhaled, letting his arms fall to each side as you leaned forward, watching him intently with hands now clasped firmly beneath your jaw.

Anakin could tell that your silver stare intimated even his former Master. He watched as the Master Negotiator not so subtly eyed the hull’s roof to escape your gaze.

“It is possible, that tracking you down was part of Maul’s mission. He may have discovered your connection to Qui-Gon.”

Kenobi sighed, stroking his chin. “Our former Master likely came to the same conclusion.”

Anakin saw as Obi-Wan’s eyes fell to connect intensely with yours, a smile lingered on the bearded Jedi’s features as his eyes creased in tranquility.

“You should find solace in the fact that you made his final moments most comforting. His death ensured that the Sith would never discover your whereabouts. I’m sure that gave him peace.”

For the first time today, Anakin registered a twinkle in your radiantly silver eyes as you silently thanked the older Jedi with a lift in your cheeks, leaning back into your seat comfortably.

The Chosen One glanced between the two of you as the gaze held. He knew Qui-Gon’s death weighed heavily on Kenobi’s soul. It strongly influenced his choices on the battlefield, and stuck to him like Chewstim during meditation sessions. Yet Anakin rarely heard Obi-Wan discuss the experience. Let alone with serenity blooming from his features like a Tarisian rose that had just escaped a long, winter hibernation.

Your mutual connection to Qui-Gon seemed to help heal these old wounds, and Anakin was grateful for that.

“Enough with the sappiness, Master,” Anakin exclaimed with a lively lilt, breaking the tension as he spun back toward the shuttle’s controls.

Obi-Wan shot Anakin an annoyed look. The teasing Jedi pushed a throttle lever down before programming the shuttle for atmospheric reentry on the left control set.

“I think Silvey would much rather take in our arrival.”

Anakin didn’t need to reach into the force to sense your amused brow’s rapid surge upwards. Obi-Wan stepped around the co-pilot’s seat, shaking his head in surrender as he settled into the chair, smoothing out his robe on either side.

“You sure know how to ruin a moment, Sky-Guy.” Ahsoka pipped up.

Her gaze remained fixed on the Datapad. Yet her comment only amplified his mischievousness.

“Silvey?” Anakin heard you question with feigned indignation as he entered the final commands into the shuttle interface, engaging the secondary thrusters.

The spirited Jedi snatched the navigational lever, pushing it down to lead the craft into Coruscant’s exosphere before glancing over his shoulder at your postured displeasure. He smirked as your eyes met, forcing a dampened smile to surface on your own countenance.

“Hey, don’t blame me! I could spot your silver eyes from a million parsecs away. It’s only fitting.” He defended.

Then, a particularly tantalizing observation entered his thoughts.

“Would you prefer Shorty?”

You chucked darkly, squinting at The Chosen One with a challenging glare as he brought the shuttle’s nose into a deeper dive.

Your lips pursed upwards. “If looks could kill, Anakin. If looks could kill…”

The pilot beamed at your playful remark. “Well, at least take a break from stabbing me with those freakishly sparkly things.” He quipped, waving you away. “You’re missing the view.”

Out of the corner of his focused stare, Anakin observed your head rise. You were immediately taken by Coruscant’s giant mass, a faded blue and gray planet with billions of lights forming golden circles that were interconnected like a geometric map. Your mouth loosened in astonishment with each glossy orb stuck to the viewport. He noticed you lean forward, as if pulled by some unknown force, resting your elbows on each knee with your chin fitted on clasped hands.

Satiated by your raised spirits, Anakin refocused on the throttle, pushing it down further to bring the shuttle into Coruscant’s baby blue troposphere. The ship began to quiver as the hull took the brunt of the friction.

For a few turbulent seconds, his vision was blocked by the vast array of rounded, white clouds. The cabin’s heat intensified as the edges of the viewport started to burn a fiery red.

But soon, the shuttle broke through the white veil’s final wisps, displaying the towering cityscape, which rolled like jagged hills and consumed the viewport. The sun was beginning its final crawl to dusk, filling the sky with a deep orange fire whose smoke billowed into dark blues and purples. The streams of light illuminated the busy skylanes, resembling the endless march of Endorian ant colonies. They brought life to Coruscant’s still landmarks.

“It’s beautiful.”

Anakin covertly peaked at you, registering the astonishment plastered on your face. He assumed for a being that’s only known endless snow banks and harsh winters all their life, that this experience would be terribly intimidating, terrifying even.

He thought back briefly to ten years prior. When he first came to Coruscant, he was petrified. Scared of this new environment. Of this added drastic change to his life.

But he was mostly afraid for his mother. For her fate back on Tatooine. Under Watto’s thumb, only to be bought by Lars, and then…

It permeated his being. Haunted him for years. Pulled at his heart with the constant mass of a planet, swinging like a pendulum with each reminder, each ache. And, still, he carries it with him today. But now, with a deeper anger. A stronger guilt.

But you seemed to take it all in with grace.

And Anakin admired that.

The Temple swiftly grew into view as the shuttle descended. The heat surrounding the hull began to recede. Anakin rolled the lever, bringing the shuttle in for a curved landing. He aligned the ship with one of the protruding hangars, the whole of which he believed resembled an upside-down lollipop. At least when he was a youngling.

After thumbing a few buttons on the control panel to release the landing gear, Anakin pressed the lever down, encouraging the craft to speed to the circular platform nose first. He turned the throttle once more to the right, slowing the ship by aligning its door with the hangar entrance, allowing for a slow, final descent.

The ship jostled slightly as it met the landing pad, signaling Anakin to begin a systems-wide power down, staring at the main control panel.

Another happy landing.

As he flicked off the last switch to power down the engines, Anakin felt an audible rumble from within, compelling him to focus on the sudden ache in his stomach.

It had been a while since he had a good meal with the back-to-back missions and low stock of ration bars. Not that he ever considered that bantha fodder food.

Usually after a long away mission, he would grab a speeder from The Temple and take a quick trip to the Senate Building. He’d roam the halls nonchalantly, chest puffed to signal an air of importance, like he had a very official reason to be there. Then, he would ‘aimlessly’ stroll to Padmé’s office.

Once he arrived with a covert knock at the door, Padmé would welcome him inside with a warmhearted smile. He would then spend some time resting on one of her guest seats meant for senatorial colleagues, attempting to entertain himself with the mechanisms of his saber’s hilt. But it wasn’t long until he began to distract Padmé from her work, eventually convincing her to call it an early night. The two of them would grab a meal in her spacious Coruscanti apartment that overlooked The Temple from a few miles away. But he was never intrigued by that view. His eyes remained fixed on her.

Yet despite all this daydreaming, Skywalker knew his wife was still on Naboo, managing the consequences of donating a vast array of medical supplies to another planet. Her responsibilities on her home world exponentially swelled in the last few months, so he wasn’t entirely sure when he’d next see her.

No one knew when they’d see each other next during wartime. Or if they would ever meet again.

If these musings indicated anything, it was that Anakin eagerly hoped to spend some downtime with the people he was closest to. No war planning. No cargo transports. No battle charges. Just a nice meal and entertaining conversation. And he knew just who he wanted to spend that time with.

Anakin stood, stretching his arms into a spin just in time to witness the very person he hoped to talk to swing her legs back over the seat they were sprawled out on before jumping up and charging for the door.

“What’s got you in such a rush?” He called after Ahsoka as she jostled the shuttle door open.

The orange light of the setting sun invaded the ship with a jolt, casting large shadows on the scattered groups of hangar workers, the closest of which approached the ship to take it off Anakin’s hands once the final three passengers exited.

She leaped out, landing delicately on the tips of her toes before turning into a backward jog.

“If I don’t finish this physics paper by midnight, Master Plo Koon is gonna kill me!” She yelled, shaking her datapad in the air. “Catch you later!”

Anakin’s gaze followed her sprinting form down the hangar’s walkway until she disappeared into the inner bay behind a small cruiser.

“Ok.” Anakin huffed before facing the two remaining Jedi with a grin. “At least the three of us can grab dinner.”

He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“I’m afraid the two of you will have to enjoy without me,” Obi-Wan admitted as he glanced at Anakin. “The Council likely planned an emergency meeting concerning the recall of the Jedi from the front lines. I need to check in immediately.”

Anakin’s smile faltered. He inwardly groaned at Kenobi’s resolute dedication to rules and regulations. He was sure The Council could have waited half an hour, but Anakin knew Obi-Wan’s mind was set.

Obi-Wan twisted on his heels to face you. “I will also inform them about you.”

“Shouldn’t I be there then?” You questioned.

All hope of eating with one of his traveling companions drained from Anakin’s spirit. Maybe he could meet with one of them later instead, he thought. He supposed he could put off food for a bit, perhaps continue on that pilot droid project he hadn’t had a chance to work on for a while. But then he’d probably need to take a quick trip to Level 1782. Last time Anakin checked, he was low on spare parts.

“No,” Obi-Wan claimed.

Skywalker’s ears perked at that.

“That will not be necessary. They will likely need to confer without your presence for now.”

You silently agreed as Anakin internally sighed in relief.

Obi-Wan nodded to the both of you before turning to the hangar walkway, hurriedly traipsing toward his exit.

Anakin took a more leisurely pace in the same direction as you followed behind. An uncomfortable silence took hold as he guided the both of you into the inner hangar. The bustling noise of your surroundings amplified the awkwardness as the two of you closed in on the larger groups of hangar workers, barking out loud commands and using various tools, like sonorously whirring drills, to update or fix the conglomerate of crafts that idly scattered the zone.

Anakin felt his nose begin to tickle, perhaps from distant smoke. But he was too worried that it may prolong the uncomfortably fresh turf between the two of you if he tried to scratch it.

“So…” You spoke somewhat unsure of yourself. “What is there to do that’s fun around here?”

Anakin’s whole body froze, stopping dead in his tracks from eager surprise as if he were caught in a carbon-freezing chamber. He spun toward you, immediately seizing your shoulders with a steady clasp.

“What did you say?” He asked intently, excitement radiating up his spine and diffusing to his fingertips.

He observed your figure stiffen slightly at his agile animation. You raised a questioning brow as you opened your mouth with a hesitant pause, seemingly unsure if you should ask again.

“Do Jedi raised in The Order…not do anything….leisurely?”

The confident Jedi chuckled coolly while throwing an arm around your shoulder as you both exited the hanger into The Temple, pivoting to stroll down the hall opposite from Obi-Wan’s trail.

“I think we are going to get along very well, Silvey.” He hummed self-assuredly.

You rolled your eyes. “Not if you keep calling me that.”

“I promise you, you’re not gonna mind that nickname after I show you one of the most leisurely activities on all of Coruscant.” He assured.

You glanced at Anakin with lifted features. “But I thought you were hungry.” You teased

Anakin scoffed. “Food can wait. Now, tell me, Silvey.” Anakin dreamed as he patted your shoulder. “Did Qui-Gonn ever tell you about the Wicko District?”

—

General Kenobi maintained his nimble gait down the primary walkway to the High Council Chamber. His robes billowed as he passed an abundance of lounging Jedi, some conversing to the sides or keeping a moderate pace as they made their way to an unknown destination on either side of him.

Soon into his journey, Obi-Wan crossed paths with his old mentor Master Cin Drallig, followed by a group of twelve rowdy younglings whose voices bounced off the temple walls. Maybe they were asking questions, or telling a story, but the bearded Jedi couldn’t tell. Each utterance overlapped like a cacophony of crashing speeders.

Yet almost immediately, they noticed his presence, twirling away from each other to respectfully greet one of their long-held role models.

“Hello, Master!”

“Hello, younglings.” General Kenobi smiled.

He looked back to Master Dralli, catching his tired, yet fulfilled stare. They each exchanged a dutiful, yet brisk nod before continuing on their respective paths.

Obi-Wan always felt dwarfed by the massive olive-gray pillars that buttressed The Temple’s lofty ceilings. As a youngling, the golden archways seemed to stretch out endlessly in each direction, giving the effect of an infinite mirror when he passed under them. When he aged, however, Obi-Wan learned to better understand the structure’s finite nature, yet he was still taken by its capacious essence. Each hall resembled a palace built thousands of years ago by Mandallian Giants, specifically constructed for their wide gates and broad shoulders. And it would coax his imagination into its unyielding grasp.

He remembers spending too much time simply sitting crossed in these halls during his youth. The youngling would rest his eyelids to visualize the giants’ roaring tramps shake the coral- and lilac-marble floors in succeeding thundering booms.

As Obi-Wan turned a corner, tread crossing onto the ocean blue carpet of the inner Temple, he reminisced about the time Qui-Gon caught him red-handed in the middle of one of these fantasies. It was many years before the late Jedi took him on as a Padawan.

Qui-Gon would always engage with the younglings when possible. He had a habit of outwardly encouraging all initiates in their studies, especially those who struggled with their training and emotional discipline. But he would also silently approve those rare moments in which a young Jedi took a moment to themselves. Whether that be exploring the Coruscanti entertainment district, playing Sabacc, or Obi-Wan’s respite of choice, daydreaming.

With eyes shrouded in darkness, he could almost smell the sweaty towering creature. Its footsteps sounded like cracks of lighting, and he could feel the room’s imperceptible rise in temperature from the creature’s sudden presence. If he really focused, its colossal, green-muscled foot would nearly breach the void in his sight, creeping from the corner of his left eyelid. The hair on his arms prickled at the beast’s sudden proximity.

“Meditating are you?”

The young Kenobi’s eyes sprung open, cheeks reddening as his eyes locked with the wise Jedi before him.

“Uhh, yes…Master.”

And Qui-Gon simply smiled.

Obi-Wan’s worries momentarily lifted at the memory, delight gracing his features. But that instant disappeared from his mind as quickly as it arrived. The Jedi refocused on the task ahead, passing one of the large Sage Master statues that shined like freshly polished copper to his right as The Council meeting room entered his vision.

Just outside the Chamber door stood Master Windu, leaning with his arm against the wall beside him as he continued his deep discussion with Master Yoda, who rested in his flying chair. The two of them spoke softly, and from Windu’s creased brows, General Kenobi could tell that it was serious. A few groups of Jedi Masters similarly congregated around the door, talking lowly. Kenobi could sense heightened anxiety trailing the air.

As he approached, Obi-Wan caught the corner of Mace’s eye. He turned to General Kenobi, offering a curt nod at his arrival as Yoda reoriented his seat toward the newly arrived.

“Late you are, Master Kenobi.”

“I apologize for the delay.” Obi-Wan relayed sincerely. “Our shuttle experienced some unexpected complications.”

Yoda hummed deeply at Obi-Wan’s words, indicating his acceptance of this explanation to Mace before taking his chair on a measured stroll down the walkway, back in the direction from whence Obi-Wan came. Windu and Kenobi shortly followed in step.

“The Council has already met to discuss the issue of recalling the Jedi.” Master Windu began as the trio ambled down the hallway. “We have suffered a communications incursion by the Separatists.”

Obi-Wan was astounded, brows furrowing in confusion as he absentmindedly rubbed his jaw.

“A breach in our secure transmissions…How is that possible?” He exclaimed.

“Unsure, we are,” Yoda answered. “Investigate, our specialists will.”

Mace addressed the troubled Jedi. “A number of troops stationed in obscure outer regions of multi-planetary battle sites were ambushed in the last few weeks. The only way they could have been discovered would be if their COMMs were tapped into. It is possible that the Separatists have somehow obtained some of our transmitter codes or found some other flaw in the communications system. Because we cannot use our wrist comms or holopads to send sensitive information to communicate this development, we’ve recalled the Jedi.”

“Continue the battles, the clones will. Send out Jedi temporarily with verbal directions for troops, we must.

“Until communications are secured.” Windu clarified. “The 212th and 501st have already received new instructions for a less critical mission on Aleen.”

Obi-Wan hummed in contemplation. “And how long do you believe this situation will last?”

Mace exhaled. “We won’t know until technicians look further into the issue. But it may be weeks, months.”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard as he ruminated about this concerning development. He trusted Commander Cody with his life, but still knew it would be difficult for the 212th to address more delicate missions in the near future without timely information from The Temple or even inter-troop comms.

“Concerned, we all are,” Yoda reassured, likely sensing General Kenobi’s unease.

“The Council will be informing all active Jedi in the Great Hall tomorrow morning. Make sure Anakin and his Padawan are present. And here.”

Windu reached into the right pocket of his robe, pulling out what Obi-Wan thought was a wrist comm, yet it seemed bulkier. An extra layer of wiring was hidden in an additional panel stuck underneath the control layer. Most notable was the thin, silver line of steel that encircled the device, something the General hadn’t seen on a comm before. He took it, feeling the mass in his palm. It felt cold, heavy, with a rusted button and weak indicator light.

He thought it ancient.

“It’s a comm from the old Temple emergency system. It’s completely separate from our current communications system so messages from these devices to regular comms will be secure. There are only enough for one per council member.”

Obi-Wan thanked the Master as he switched his current wrist link with the replacement, placing the former in his robe’s pocket.

“Still careful, we must be.”

Mace added. “Only use it to ask for meetings, not to share sensitive data.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “On the topic of sensitivity, I must inform you of a development.”

He breathed deeply, exhaling in a short burst as he gathered his complicated memories about you to present to The Council leaders.

“In our delay, Anakin, his Padawan, and I were on Hoth for a short time, where we met a being living alone on the planet’s surface.”

The two Jedi Masters listened intently as he continued.

“I discovered them to be a Gray Jedi, trained by Master Qui-Gonn himself. They claim to be The Guardian, a figure that is a part of The Chosen One prophecy, but was expected to be trained outside The Order. They are tasked with Anakin’s protection and guidance so that he may achieve his destiny. Their journey begins when dark forces threaten this fate.”

Mace’s eyes narrowed. “This is a bold claim, Master Kenobi. If anything, it sounds like a Separatist trick.”

Then, as soft as their nimble footfalls, Yoda uttered your name under his breath.

Obi-Wan’s head swiveled toward the Grand Master. “You know them?”

The shorter Jedi sighed, leaning back in his chair as his eyes glazed over in deep reflection.

“Gone, I thought they were, a long time ago.”

Mace’s brows raised as he turned to Yoda. “You know of this individual, Master?”

He nodded gravely, a light grunt resonated from his esophagus.

“Discovered them as an infant twenty-five years ago, I did. Kept a close eye on them, I had.” He sighed. “Killed by a dark power a year later, their parents were. Believed they died as well, I did.”

The Grand Master eyed General Kenobi carefully, as if the bearded Jedi made a mistake in his recollection.

“Interested to learn they are alive, I am.”

“A dark power…” Obi-Wan mused. “Master, do you believe a Sith may have been responsible? I have been theorizing that Maul’s presence on Tatooine could have had more than one motive.”

“Discovered their presence, you believe he did?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “And their connection to Qui-Gon.”

He paused, counting the years in his head.

“But Maul would have been too young when their parents passed.”

“The rule of two…” Mace hummed.

“A Master, then.” Yoda declared.

“Then The Guardian’s presence suggests that Maul may not be the last Sith,” Windu revealed. “If it’s true that their appearance suggests a new threat from the Dark Side.”

“During the Battle of Geonosis, discovered that Dooku may be a Sith, I did.” Yoga established. “Great darkness, I sensed in him.”

“Then he is the Sith Lord?” Mace speculated.

Obi-Wan agreed. “He would have been quite capable of taking their parents’ lives over two decades ago.”

“It would also explain The Guardian’s survival, if Dooku’s late Padawan discovered his plans and partially thwarted them before they were carried out,” Mace suggested.

“Informed The Council, Qui-Gon would have, if believed Dooku was a Sith, he had. Much we still do not know, there is.”

Windu exhaled, placing his middle and index finger against his right temple and thinking deeply about his next words.

“I would like to meet this Guardian myself.” He gestured to Kenobi. “Tomorrow in the Sparring Arena after the Great Hall announcement. It is important for The Council to determine whether they have the necessary physical and mental abilities, and the appropriate connection to the Force, to be a Jedi Knight. To join The Order. Otherwise, leaving them outside the purview of The Order could have dire consequences. That is if they are even prepared to fulfill such a destiny after nearly a decade of isolation.”

“Of course, Master.” Obi-Wan acknowledged. “But from what little I’ve seen, they seem quite capable of holding their own.”

Windu’s stare held firm. “Respectfully, Master Kenobi, I will be the one to determine that.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze fell. “Understood.”

He didn’t take the Master’s tone personally. Windu’s conformist nature and deep dislike for any Jedi activity conducted beyond the domain of The Council likely made his discovery of The Guardian prophecy an unwelcome one. Obi-Wan only hoped that Master Windu would still treat you as any other Jedi when testing your abilities. He remembers the wise Master’s negative reaction to Anakin’s discovery, due to his age at the time Qui-Gon requested that he be trained. You were much older than 10-year-old Ani, so he was convinced that would pose a problem for the talented swordsman.

And this was not the best time for you to be meeting resistance from The Order that you trained your whole life to serve so to continue its millennia-long mission of preserving the peace through light. The Master Negotiator didn’t need to employ his strong conversation skills to discern how the past few days’ overwhelming changes had been affecting you. That, in addition to learning of your Master’s passing, had made you restless on the journey here. It was hard to ignore, even while he settled in repose each night, your twisted form which struggled to sleep.

He empathized with you deeply.

The General was also, in some measure, apprehensive about the inevitable clash of personalities. He found you kind, considerate, but also unafraid to speak your mind, or express your inner sentiments. He admired Master Windu since he was a boy, but his no-nonsense approach? His uncompromising mental discipline and austere lessons? It would surely cause a collision of temperaments.

“A different name, they must go by,” Yoda announced.

Obi-Wan’s gaze rose curiously at this. “Master?”

“Know they are alive, Dooku cannot.”

“Nor any other actor of the Dark Side. Nor the Separatists.” Windu interjected. “Their existence could pose a significant weakness to the Republic’s image of enduring peace and light. If Separatist forces discover The Guardian’s identity and purpose from their birth name, they may believe that the destruction of a specific Jedi could leave us vulnerable.”

He paused, turning to Yoda to verify his conclusions, who languidly blinked in concurrence.

Mace’s peer twisted back toward Kenobi. “If dark forces found them once through their birth name, they can again.”

The Grand Master nodded in agreement. “Destroy The Guardian, they may otherwise try.”

Obi-Wan’s heart dropped at the notion. It was clear that your identity needed to be protected from these powerfully dark forces, lest you meet the same fate as your parents.

If your mission was to guard and guide Anakin, his former Padawan, and dear friend, then the determined Jedi believed it to be his personal assignment to aid you in that destiny. Now he knew that hiding your identity to the best of his ability would be part of that task. The side of the light needed you, and Obi-Wan’s deep connection to it and his cavernous desire to continue Qui-Gon’s decades-long efforts meant only one thing— he needed to protect you too.

“Anakin gave them a nickname.” The General recalled, head tilted and eyes scanning up an idle column as he thought back. “Silvey, if memory serves.”

Windu's brows raised, unsurprised.

“Then Silvey they’ll remain,” he concluded.

Yoda hummed, his disconcertion bubbling to the surface with lips creased in a downward turn. “Their true name, only the three of us, Anakin, and little Ahsoka will know. Kept secret, their identity must be. Inform The Council of the prophecy, we shall, once communications are refortified. But within the council, it must stay.”

Master Windu mumbled in unanimity. “We must not entertain any notion of emerging Sith. Not among the Jedi, nor publicly.”

“I understand the delicacy of the situation and will act accordingly,” Obi-Wan assured.

The bearded Jedi halted, turning to the elders before leaning into a slight obeisance. The other Masters slowed to a halt.

“If you will excuse me, Masters, I hope to find my travel companions before they divulge any information about The Guardian’s identity.”

“May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi,” Windu stated as he bowed adieu, Yoda following suit from his floating chair.

And with that, Obi-Wan turned away to begin his search for you, Anakin, and Ahsoka.

As the General quickened his stride down that long, colossally immortal walkway, he wondered where he might find the three of you. Ahsoka was probably in the Jedi Archives around the corner, assuming she was continuing her work on that paper for Master Plo Koon. So he decided to start there. He assumed you and Anakin were stationed in the refectory closest to the hangar, remembering the previously mentioned dinner plans,

Or maybe it would be better to try the refractory first, Obi-Wan thought. If experience served true, Anakin would not stay silent about your discovery for long. He hastened his pace while mumbling these plans under his breath.

“Yes, the refractory first.”

Taglist

@js-favnanadoongi

@panandinpain0

[lunasocs]

not me accidently finding the best Dusklight (and Qui-Gon) angst song my just getting back into Ghost

the song in question:

LIKE GOD IT FITS THE ANGST OF THEM SO WELL RAAAAAAA

Can you hear me say your name, forever?

Can you see me longing for you, forever?

Would you let me touch your soul, forever?

Can you feel me longing for you, forever, forever?

*pointing* THIS BITCH IS LIKE THE PERFEVTEST SONG EVER IT'S LIKE IT WAS MADE FOR THEM

[darlingkairos]

Qui gon and my oc Jae-Mari again.

[honeyed-pines]

— “ Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.”

sometimes I get caught up thinking about them reuniting after order 66……. and only cry a lil

[astrajinn]

Bonus

Okay, first of all, I want to clarify that I started writing this book around 2016 and finished it by 2018 (because Disney plus didn't exist, and I didn't know the characters' dialogues by heart, alright? The movie is extremely long).

On the other hand, now I regret not uploading it earlier. With the arrival of "Tales of The Jedi," I've encountered a huge plot gap regarding the training of Yaddle and Astra. (I chose that character because not much was known about her, and we didn't even know what happened to her after episode 1). So, this chapter is to change the ending of episode 4 "The Sith Lord" of the series to explain how she survives. If it was supposed that Dooku made her bite the dust.

Another noteworthy detail is that Astra will be mentioned several times, but she won't be seen more than once or twice.

................................................. ................................................. ................................

Astra always knew how fortunate she was to have Qui-Gon as her father and master. Most children in the temple didn't know their parents; they either didn't remember them or saw them so rarely that they barely knew their names. That's why Padawans loved their masters so much, and vice versa. They were the only family they had, and no matter how much the rules prohibited attachment, it was almost impossible to avoid. It was like an unspoken rule or an open secret that everyone hushed up and tried to ignore.

Dooku was no exception to the rule. But to understand this, we must go back to that last day on Coruscant. After leaving the "garden," father and daughter went to the cafeteria for something decent to eat, and while this was happening, Master Dooku was walking through the temple halls. He headed to the archives to look for a specific master's file.

"Access the archive memory, enter your security authorization code," he typed the code and waited a few seconds. "Code accepted, Master Sifo Dyas. Planet Kamino," he entered another code. "Location of Kamino deleted. Kamino file information, deleted," the computer reported, and the memory disk, now blank, was stored in its place.

When the master left the place, he walked through the halls and saw all the masters and Jedi whispering to each other about the same topic. That's why he didn't hesitate to ask when he encountered Master Jocasta.

"What's causing all this excitement, Master Jocasta?"

"It was your apprentice and his little one—"

"Qui-Gon? I thought he was training a boy."

"It's a long story—summarized the last comment. But everything indicates that they faced a Sith Lord, or at least that's what they claimed to the Jedi High Council."

"Where did this encounter take place?"

"Tatooine, yes, I think that's where it happened, deep in the outer rim, of course. Qui-Gon Jinn has always had an active imagination, just like you, and apparently, Astra has inherited that same quality."

"It's a quality, increasingly undervalued in these grand corridors. Why do you say the girl has inherited this quality?"

"Her name is Astra Starling Jinn."

"Qui-Gon Jinn's daughter? With whom?"

"We believe with Coralis Starling—earned a look of strangeness from the master. Remember the padawan of Master Tyvokka."

"Of course," he commented, recalling. "She was the girl who came from that neutral planet—tried to remember—Paraddle, right? I remember it was said they had a romantic relationship, although if I recall correctly, she died before they were judged."

"Exactly, the problem is that almost three years after that, your student went somewhere, and less than a month later, he returned with a Force-sensitive Paradlean girl of about two years in his arms."

"Why didn't I hear about this?" he asked, concerned.

"Few know about it, Master Dooku. Qui-Gon has always claimed that the girl is not biologically his, and what's more, he believes she is the Chosen One of the prophecy."

"Conceived without a father?"

"Born of the Force itself; apparently, she has no biological parents. It would have been a big scandal, so it was treated with all possible discretion at the time. I had to register it for the archives, so I was one of the few people outside the council who found out."

"You trust telling me now?"

"At this point, it's just a hallway rumor. It doesn't harm anyone to know. But I suppose that since your student is involved, it's better that you know firsthand what happened."

................................................. ........................

"Are you uncomfortable?" the teacher asked, seeing the girl shrink.

"Whispers are better when they're for mischief," she replied.

"I think words travel fast," commented the Jedi.

"Gossips," the girl barked, hiding behind her father.

"Haha, well, your statements to the council were quite... surprising."

"Tell the truth, teacher. They think we're lying or crazy."

"Qui-Gon," called another whom the youngest had never seen before.

"Master."

"You can play on the walls for a while," the teacher authorized, and the girl hurried to lift her speeder to reach the ceiling.

"I heard about your report to the council. Tell me about this strange attacker on Tatooine."

"I found a warrior with great skills, obviously trained in the Jedi arts."

"And do you think it was a Sith Lord?"

"We don't think," she descended from the ceiling and stood in the middle of the masters, "we are sure."

"Young Starling, the masters are talking," Yaddle interrupted.

"Don't believe in their word, Master. The masters are fools; they let the light they protect blind them, and now darkness lurks."

"I don't doubt your word, young one," Yaddle looked at her questioningly.

"Astra Starling, master, although in the future, maybe Jinn or Skywalker," she whispered the last part so low that only Master Yaddle could hear her.

"Well, young Astra, what I understand is that the council was not willing to validate that conclusion."

"They weren't, Master," Qui-Gon confirmed.

"I have been warning them about the darkness approaching for years, but they never took me seriously."

"Speaking on behalf of the council, there is no reason to cause unjustified alarm."

"Do you doubt her claim?" Dooku asked.

"No, I don't, but the council's wisdom is to be cautious."

"With all due respect, Master Yaddle, and speaking as a concerned daughter, I don't want to risk my father's life for you to prove what is already obvious."

"You have a lot of temper, but you are still very young. You will learn to control it," the older man acknowledged and turned to his student, "But Master Yaddle is right about one thing; a Sith Lord is not something to take lightly." He placed his hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder, "Astra is right about another thing; I won't be there to protect you, my old padawan."

"Don't worry, Master. Obi-Wan has that role now. He handles it quite well."

"That's good. I would like to meet him one day. You always speak highly of him, and if he's half as fierce as your daughter, the Sith are doomed."

"He was his father, right?" the girl asked the teacher.

"Something like that."

"That makes him my grandfather."

"If you want to see it that way," she accepted as the girl hugged the leg of the older master, earning a look of strangeness from him.

"Thank you for teaching my father and for loving him," she added before heading towards the elevator.

"Master Dooku, are you okay?" the teacher asked with some concern.

"They grow up very fast, our students."

"That's how things are," she admitted nostalgically.

"That's right; I have to say goodbye," he informed, leaving.

Not much time had passed, about a week at most, when they received news from Naboo. They had won the battle but at a very high cost. Qui-Gon had died, and as far as they knew, Astra was gravely injured and might not survive. Because of this, the council masters decided to leave for Naboo the next morning. Thinking about the deceased Qui-Gon's former master, Master Yaddle decided to go in search of Dooku, whom she found in front of the tree in the temple garden.

"He used to bring Qui-Gon here when he was a child," she began speaking as she felt the teacher behind her. "He was fascinated with this tree, being born here, on Coruscant, a planet of steel and stone. He didn't know anything like it."

"He cherished that memory. He came here often, and since he arrived, he brought the girl here. The council has to go to Naboo; the funeral will take place there. We don't know if she'll survive; we ask the Force to give her strength to live."

"I doubt I'll be good company."

"And are you blaming us for that?" she asked, puzzled.

"Qui-Gon Jinn has become one with the Force, and if he thinks his daughter should follow him, maybe it's for the best." He climbed the stairs and passed by her side. "It's time to let them go."

"And do you think you can do that?" she asked worriedly.

"I don't think I have a choice," he declared, leaving.

Despite this, the teacher was not at ease. How was it possible that after everything they had experienced, he didn't want to bid a final farewell to his student? It was incredible. That's why she followed him and saw him arrive at the hangar, where he took one of the ships and left. After a few minutes, they arrived at a remote hangar in a "lower" part of that level, or as low and secluded as the highest level of Coruscant could be. Once there, they got off their transports, and inside the place, Dooku met a hooded figure who, judging by the voice, was probably a man.

"This time, you went too far," reproached the Jedi.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the other replied.

"Qui-Gon Jinn, you allowed Maul to kill him, and as if that weren't enough, you let him hurt an innocent girl."

"You lost an apprentice, and so did I, all in the service of our ultimate goal. As for the girl, I understand she was never hurt; she just collapsed on the ground. She must be very weak."

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"You can think whatever you want, but we can't reshape the galaxy without sacrifices."

"He could have been a powerful ally, and if that girl is the Chosen One, as he believed, even more so. You would have one within your reach."

"For you, maybe they would be. There is more than one way to get what we want."

"Are you questioning my loyalty?"

"Always," he declared coldly.

"I have done everything you asked me," he pointed out, bewildered.

"And I will ask more of you if we want to succeed."

"Sifo Dyas, Kamino, the clones," he began listing with regret, "I have betrayed everyone and everything I know."

"No. You have been loyal to a greater cause," he corrected, with a clear attempt at manipulation, but as implicit as it was, Dooku couldn't see it, blinded by his pain.

"How many have died because of my actions?"

"That is the price of freedom."

"No! This ends here, Lord Sith," declared the teacher, coming out of her hiding place to confront the men.

"Then, if I was betrayed?"

"No."

"Dooku, come with me. Regardless of your crimes, help me now," he asked, willing to advocate for him if he admitted his wrongs and amended his path.

"So you heard. You know."

"That doesn't matter."

"Don't believe her."

"Regardless of the lies he told you, no matter what you did. You can make it up now by handing him over to justice."

"Remember what you told me, the Jedi blindly serve a corrupt senate that fails the republic it represents. Do you want to prove your loyalty? Kill her."

"You still have a chance to make things right."

"I'm afraid," the teacher admitted.

"I know you're afraid," confirmed the teacher, thinking that the master with whom she had shared so many years would help him.

"I'm afraid it's too late."

The master activated his lightsaber, and the teacher admitted that she had no choice but to fight, against the one she had called her companion. The trails of blue and green clashed again and again; the small teacher deflected every attack from Dooku skillfully. In a moment of vulnerability, she managed to hide behind one of the ships and began speaking again, hoping to make him react.

"I'm on your side, Dooku. I resigned from the council. You were right about many things. The council needs to listen to you. Qui-Gon shouldn't die, and his daughter deserves to live. Astra Jinn needs a master; she asked for you to train her in the last meeting. You can take care of her, just as you took care of her father."

She decided to tell him, thinking that the nostalgia he would feel for that girl whom the deceased master loved, and whom he had seen smiling at his side not long ago, would make him reconsider. But she was wrong; speaking was her downfall. Dooku discovered that she was hiding behind the ship, and he used the Force to move her away and engage in another duel. The teacher stepped back to the entrance of the hangar they were in, with the goal of reaching her ship. She knew she couldn't defeat Dooku, not in the condition she was in now. But she had to warn the council; they had to be prepared, and only she could inform them.

She jumped backward, ready to leave, but Dooku, the teacher, followed her as the door closed again. For the third time that day, their lightsabers clashed. "You should have stayed buried, but your pride was too great, wasn't it?"

"Now who protects you, Master Yaddle?"

"I don't need anyone to do it. I will stop them. The council will know the truth, and Qui-Gon's death will not be in vain," she declared, deflecting another attack and jumping onto some rocks.

"If they had listened to me, he would be alive," he yelled, launching another attack that made her retreat.

"I know. He could have survived if we had listened to Astra, but 'could have' doesn't exist. We can only correct our mistakes. Correct yours. Or don't you realize that what you seek to obtain, the order you so desire, is what has taken away your student. Will you end with your granddaughter too?"

Dooku was about to deliver the finishing blow, but this question froze him. It was true. If Jocasta was telling the truth, the girl was Qui-Gon's daughter, a part of his Padawan lived in that little one who, from what he knew, was fighting between life and death. But how could he help her? Palpatine would know of his betrayal, and he would hunt them tirelessly before allowing the truth to be known. Now he knew that she was one of the Chosen Ones, and Maul was supposed to be on Tatooine to find the other. Soon, he would have both of them, and he couldn't allow it. There was only one thing left to do, and he hoped Yaddle would accept his proposal to gain a little more time for the girl. At least enough for her to learn to defend herself.

"You have to train her," the master murmured.

"Dooku?" Yaddle called.

"Only you have noticed the flaws of the council, I won't kill you, but allow me to erase this encounter from your mind, make it disappear forever. This way, you will train Astra, it will buy them time, enough for her to be ready for the impending war."

"You can train her yourself."

"I can't do that, he will seek her out and kill her. But if he thinks I have failed, and he discovers that you have lost your memory, the punishment will only fall on me, and the girl won't be harmed."

"Is that the deal you offer?"

"It's the only thing I can give you."

"Protecting Astra in exchange for my memory and risking condemning the entire galaxy."

"They will have more opportunities than if you die."

Yaddle pondered for a moment. It wasn't ideal, but it was what they had, and rejecting it would only make the girl's training more difficult. Maybe it was the best, perhaps it was the only thing she could do, and maybe, just maybe, this small sacrifice would change the future of that little one and the galaxy for the better.

Dooku ended up erasing Yaddle's mind. She didn't oppose it and granted him access. A deal was a deal—her memories of this battle in exchange for her life and that of her future padawan. Once it was done, the count struck the Jedi with the hilt of his lightsaber and then pressed the blade against her side so that it cut through the fabric but not her body. It was believable enough for Palpatine not to reproach him.

Yaddle never knew what happened that day. She couldn't even remember anything beyond the moment when she saw Dooku leave after their conversation in the temple garden, or why her robe seemed cut with his lightsaber. She wished to know, truly she did. She was sure there was something important that she forgot, especially when days later Dooku left the order. She had a feeling that deep down, she knew the reason, but not now. Now, she had something more important to attend to. After many years, she had been assigned another padawan, and this time the fate of the galaxy depended on her. As a teacher, she knew she would play a very important role in the development of future events.

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Chut Chut Pattesa

First, I want to wish you all a happy Festival of Lights and tell you that I am very excited because with this episode, we have reached the end of the first season. I want to dedicate this season to someone very important in my life.

To my father, who is leaving this year for reasons I do not know. It breaks my heart, and I believe that this book would never have seen the light if it weren't for him. When I started writing it in 2016, along with another Percy Jackson work that I ended up deleting for reasons I may tell another time, I did it because in my child's mind, who was 12 at the time, I wondered what it would be like to have a father with whom to go on an adventure and explore and discover.

I loved my father with all my heart, but that year something, due to a series of events, broke in my heart, and I built a wall that even I couldn't cross so that it wouldn't hurt me anymore. I ended up taking refuge in books, series, and movies, especially in Percy Jackson and, of course, in Star Wars more than anything. I don't know if it was for a lack of creativity or because of the strange relationship that I thought Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had throughout the movie or because of everything Qui-Gon did for Anakin as soon as he met him. I ended up wanting to know what it would feel like to have someone like that in my life, and I started writing this fanfic where the character Astra represents me. How I would have wanted it to be in my life if that were my world. I imagined how I would suffer if I lost someone who loved me so much but who was able to think of me until the last moment. I was a foolish child back then, I had no friends, and I felt very lonely. No, he changed a lot, in fact, my evolution was only my age.

And when I permanently lost any chance of having him in the middle of this year, my mind transported me to those days when I was broken and felt lost and took refuge in this story. I ended up finding it on my old computer in a forgotten Word file, perhaps in the deepest recesses of the hard drive of that old dinosaur where I spent so many nights writing and thinking. I suffered this once before, and it helped me, and now to help me again, just for that, it deserves to see the light. I corrected all the spelling mistakes, the inconsistencies, and fought against dyslexia again to write this as best as possible, to transform this pixel dream into a book that would enchant others as much as it enchanted me.

I started editing images in Photoshop to have covers, and I had more fun than ever.

And I just want to say thank you to everyone, those who are reading this, those who will still be here with me when I release all the remaining seasons, and those who will leave along the way. And above all, to my father, and I want to ask the Force, if it exists, that if in another life or even in the world between worlds, if we meet again, let's write another story. One where my heart isn't broken, where it's enough to make you stay with me.

May the Force be with you all.