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grippingbeskar · 1 year

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Congrats on 2k!!!

Was hoping you could do obi-wan with a mix of 🥂5 and 🥂7?

—omg thank you so much for this one!! it inspired me a lot BCCCCCC

this could be read as a little 1.5 part of a welcomed distraction & an unsurprising development. you can read it between part one and two for a little extra SPICE to ur reading experience. also i didn’t edit this super close so forgive any spelling mistakes 😭

dedicating this to @kyberblade !! ty for always being lovely and sending me the best spicy fics. and for telling me to write this bc my obi-wan fics would crash and burn w/o u 😭❤️

— prompts:

🥂5. shh. there are other people in the room.

🥂7. we have to make this quick.

“Yes, that’s exactly the problem! There’d be way too much movement at once, and the kids need stability. You can’t just change up their schedule like th— Obi-Wan, can you come here for a second?” You call out, and he takes any chance to get away from the mind-numbing conversation he was currently trying to phase out, nodding at the councillors and taking the few steps backward to come next to you.

“Have you spoken to Master Kloon about the extension of the arena in the East wing?” You go to put your hand on his arm, but the builder you were talking with is staring too intently, and you lose your nerve. “Without it, the kids would have to go back to the old building on Coruscant halfway through their second semester. It’s too much moving.”

“I’ve already sent the message, but he’s off world until next week.” He says in his most calming voice, but you are too strung out for him to have any effect. Here, he is powerless to help you. With all these people around, at least.

“Okay. Okay— that’s fine, we’ll just have to delay the building in the East all together—“

“But then where will we start?” The man in front of you asks, and you take a deep breath in before answering.

“The… you can start the—“

“We have five hundred guys out there. We need to start something today.” Obi-Wan goes to say something, but you speak before he gets the chance.

“Yes. I know that, which is why you can all start the removal of the old common room. There’s tonnes of old furniture to be lifted out, and we need to break the walls down before we can start the conversion. That should last you until next week?” The builder doesn’t have anything to say— it’s a bad job, one that he had clearly hoped to avoid by coming a week early, but he just stands back, bows, and once his back is turned, you finally let out a frustrated sigh.

“You handled it well.” He wants to reach out, do something; anything instead of just standing here like he’s just another person in the crowd to you. But he’s not. He knows if he can just have you alone for more than three seconds—

“Your Highness? We need to discuss the blueprint plans for the East Wing.” Your eyes find his, and it takes everything in him not to throw you over his shoulder and run you out of here.

Ever since the council had chosen your planet to be the next home for a new Jedi academy, he hadn’t gotten a second of your time. Even when you managed to sneak away in the middle of the night, the two of you were both so exhausted that you could hardly manage more than a few stolen kisses goodnight before you fell asleep. Not that he didn’t savour every second your skin was next to his, something he was constantly in search of during the day and never able to obtain— but he needed you. And he knows you need him too.

He turns, catching you on the arm. Your eyes are wide when you turn back to him, not shock or concern, but just curiosity. Almost like you were challenging him— questioning how the hell he was going to get you out of this one. He hadn’t really had any ideas, just the thought of letting you go, not seeing you or touching you for days was making him irrational. So, he does the most unprofessional thing he thinks he’s done in a long while.

“I was speaking first, Your Highness.” You turn your back to the group of people, all murmuring to each other, so they can’t see how your eyebrows raise and the giant grin on your face.

“Oh?” Despite your smile, your tone remains completely regal and composed. “You think you are a more worthy use of my time then the other forty men waiting for me?”

He knows it’s on purpose. It’s true— there is a giant group of men waiting for your attention, but it’s the way you say it. That secret smile on your face, and the way you nearly purr the words at him.

“I know I am.” You scoff, and that is entirely real— no royal tone about it.

“Perhaps I need to speak to you in private, Master Kenobi, so you can learn how to better speak to your allies.” Instead of replying, he takes a step to the side, allowing you to lead him out of the room.

The rest of the people behind you look slightly scared for him, but as soon as he turns the corner, your hand shoots out from a doorway, yanking him inside. When he gets his bearings, he realises you’ve pulled him into the supply closet— random items shoved on shelves surrounding you. He very quickly loses interest, because then you pull him again, your face shrouded in the dim light, but he knows exactly where you are once you lean forward to kiss him.

His whole body relaxes as your hands thread through his hair, and the sound of your soft moans as he presses into you is music to his ears. He holds you by your hips and lifts you up, sitting you on the desk behind. It would of made him blush— how quickly you open your legs for him and pull him against you, but he’s too needy, too much time as been wasted for even the slightest hint of modesty.

“Let me—“ Obi-Wan starts, but you shake your head and kiss him again. In truth, he wanted to jam this door closed and keep you here for the rest of the week. It was the first real time he’d gotten with you in what was— he couldn’t think right now, but he wanted to make up for lost time. He could feel you against him, warm and needy and wanting and all he could think of was dropping to his knees in front of you.

“No time. Please… I need you to fuck me. Now.” Your hands fist tighter in his hair, kissing down his neck and as much as he wants to take his time, relieve all your stress from the inside out, he knows you’re pressed for time, and he could never say no to you. “We have to make this quick.”

With your legs spread open for him, he can’t help but slip his hand between your bodies, swallowing your soft moans when he slowly circles your clit over the fabric of your underwear.

“Always so needy for me.” You whimper as your forehead falls to the crook of his neck. “So perfect. I missed you— I…”

“Fuck, I know. I’m s-sorry I just… fuck, please. Tonight. You have to come and find me tonight.” He was already nodding, his mind filling with all the possibilities. “Please, Obi-Wan.”

“Shh. There are people in the other room. You don’t want them to find you like this, do you?” He pulls your underwear to the side and lines himself up with you, running the tip of himself over your clit making you bite down on your bottom lip. “Imagine their faces— Your Royal Highness, spread out for her council member so desperately.”

“Obi-Wan…” You sigh and he doesn’t waste another moment, slowly sliding himself into your heat, delighting in the relieved sound you sing into his ear. “Oh fuck…”

“You okay, my love?” You hum into his neck, nodding as your hips roll to meet the movement of his.

Every thrust has him seeing stars behind closed eyes, and the way he can tell you are trying to keep yourself quiet only drives him to fuck you a little harder. It’s a mean thought, the more deranged part of him that only you seem to awaken makes him want the others outside to hear you.

He wants them to know how good you are, how you are so strong and smart and break so easily for him. He can’t take his eyes off the way he can see the frustration of your conversations melt away, and you let yourself completely fall apart with him.

“Close— fuck, don’t stop.” You whimper and tighten around him. Items fall off the shelves around you but neither of you care enough to stop, and even Obi-Wan can’t contain the sounds he makes as he feel you cum around him. The feeling breaks him, too, and both of you move out of sync to ride out your rushed orgasms together, the room full of hot air and pleasure.

“Fuck, baby.” Obi-Wan kisses your collarbone, then your neck, and finally finds the energy to kiss your lips, tasting sweetness like he’s never had. It was always like that, kissing you. You were unlike anything he could remember— not even the Outer Rim had anything that tasted as good as you.

“I missed you so much.” You begin to catch your breath, and he helps you off the shelf, taking his time in letting the fabric of your dress drop. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy, I just needed you so bad and that guy was driving me up the wall and… fuck. I missed you.”

“I’m happy to have been useful, Your Highness. I am ready to serve in any way. At any time.” Your smile nearly lights up the room, and he puts his hands on your hips, slowly drawing you towards the door. He kisses you on the top of your nose, and even after everything you just did, the gesture makes you blush.

“Can’t we just stay in here?” You press your forehead to his, and both of you sigh, knowing you wish you could.

“I wish we could.” He flicks the lock on the door, and you groan, kissing him for a final time before leaning to whisper in your ear.

“You better come find me tonight. I have a whole list of ways you can be useful.” His eyes widen when the light of outside floods the storage room, and it takes him several moments to collect his thoughts before he can find his legs and walk out to follow you.

He watches you from across the room as you return to your conversations, breezing through them with a new found sense of calm that he claims reason for, and begins to count the long hours before he can have you in his arms again.

#grippingbeskarsnightout #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi smut #obi wan smut #obi wan kenobi fic #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fic #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x y/n #obi wan kenobie x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan x y/n

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buggstuff · 9 months

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CodyWan Week Day 4!

Honestly, I keep questioning what day I'm supposed to be posting because I'm putting it up on my ao3 at like midnight and either waiting til morning to post it here or I'm doing it minutes after posting it..

Prompts! @codywanweek

Force sensitive Cody/"This Isn't What I Signed Up For"/Secret Relationship, except I made a twist of my own. It's Pada-Wan x Padawan Cody. Because, frankly, I am obsessed with Pada-Wan aus, and it may be a problem, but that is not a problem right now as it's 0050(12:50am) and I'm running on a coffee flavoured protein shake I had at 1700(5:00pm)

Onto the reading!

When Cody was made, it was no normal.. making. Cloning. He was a clone. He had a number. He was a number. Just- Just a number.

That was until Shaak Ti revealed he had been specifically chosen, his DNA specially (and expensively) modified. He would grow at a normal rate after he hit 10 years old, physically around 20. Which was fine, well, he would live to see his brothers die but-

He was different.

Different in the way that- Well, he was a force-sensitive.

The only one of all of his brothers.

So when he reached age, he was told of this secret. He was sent off to the Jedi Temple. No one knew how this specific age growth would work, no one knew if his body would react to it well, no one even knew if he was actually a force-sensitive.

But if one person believed in him more than Shaak Ti, it was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Obi-Wan was a senior Padawan at the crisp age of 19 when Cody entered the Temple for the first time. He was only physically a year younger than him, but still was learning and growing. Obi-Wan couldn't help but take a liking to him- He taught him what Shaak Ti wouldn't, allowing him to excel in the Force quickly. After all, this was war.

Their first meeting was.. nice, you could say.

"Ah, hello there!" Obi-Wan says, double-taking as he desperately tries to keep up with his Master's long strides. He was supposed to be greeting the new Padawan of Shaak Ti's, but of course his Master had other plans. He'll catch up with him later.

"Hello," The newcomer says, curiously watching as Obi-Wan almost calls for Anakin before the Knight disappears around a corner, and he sighs.

"You're Cody, correct? Shaak Ti's new Padawan?" Obi-Wan smiles, pushing his long hair back. The Council insisted it wasn't tradition, Anakin insisted it looked better.

"Correct," Cody repeats. "And, you?.."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, pleasure to meet you," The Jedi shake hands, normally a bow was customary, but Cody.. was no normal Jedi, he had much to learn, and Obi-Wan thought it easier to ease him into it. He was quite nice looking, vibrant, dark skin with short, pitch-black curls. He found himself staring for a moment too much, quickly adjusting his posture and attitude, clearing his throat. Cody looks away, cringing when Obi-Wan chuckles quietly at the flush on his face. He had been staring too.

Oh well, that was a situation Obi-Wan didn't mind at all.

"I'll show you to your quarters, then around the Temple, then maybe I can take you to my quarters for a cup of tea. I'd love to get to know you, I hear we'll be working together very soon," Obi-Wan smiles as they beginning walking through the Temple, repeating what Anakin had told him to tell Cody.

"Uh.. Okay," Cody speaks carefully. Obi-Wan just smiles at him reassuringly.

It had been a year since then- Cody had grown, physically and in the Force. He finally reached the age where he'd grow at a normal rate, now he and Obi-Wan were physically the same age. And he liked that. Shaak Ti had trained him long before coming to the Temple, but she still thought the experience would help him adjust better.

And adjust better he did, mostly thanks to Obi-Wan and his very outgoing Master. Obi-Wan was always not far behind Master Skywalker, who was always running into a battle or a trap. He insisted he only followed because, well, Master Skywalker is his Master, and he's gotta be there most times, he is the Teacher- And in this war, there was less teaching from Anakin and more "Do as I do, you'll learn."

That of course led to Obi-Wan and Cody studying aboard their ship in their free time.

"Now that is just plain wrong," Obi-Wan sneers as he looks at the holopad, which was the debrief Anakin had given at the battle of Geonosis. "He either lied straight to the Council or they all decided they wouldn't include the fact that my Master was the one to get into the situation first. Unbelievable."

Cody chuckles quietly at Obi-Wan's frustration. They're sitting on the ginger's bed, leaning against the wall sitting close together, but ready to move if someone were to walk in on their canoodling.

And canoodle was what Cody wanted.

"Take a break from the debriefs," Cody finally replies back, moving the 'pad from Obi-Wan's hands and tossing it to the end of the bed. "I'm right here anyway."

"Oh, because you're not a bore on the eyes," Obi-Wan deadpans, lifting Cody's chin slightly. He only rolls his eyes and kisses the teasing Padawan, turning his body to not strain as much.

He practically melted as Obi-Wan pulled him onto his lap, holding him gently. His hands were rough but gentle to the touch as they kissed.

They rarely got these chances. Forever busy, as they would (forever) say. So the couple savoured the moments, drew them out as long as they could last, never moving too fast or too slow for the other.

Of course, moments were just moments.

A knock rang at the door and Cody removed himself from Obi, quick to lay on the bed at an appropriate distance, on his stomach as he looked at the holopad again.

"Come in!" Obi-Wan answers. An Admiral opens the door and begins speaking to Obi-Wan, explaining a request of Anakin's. Neither of them knew this relationship would.. evolve so much. And Cody definitely didn't like the fact that it was forbidden.

But, Cody just smiled to himself as he - pretended to - read the holopad, knowing fully well Obi-Wan would be craving for him all day once he leaves to speak with Anakin.

#obi wan kenobi #codywanweek2023 #my writing #star wars #cww23 #codywan #commander cody #the clone wars #Day 4

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veryace-ficrecs · 8 months

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Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano Fic Recs

I'm posting this today for @theadmiralbitch happy birthday!!! 🎂

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

a worthwhile endeavour by wrennette -Rated G

They were currently at nearly 36 hours since Obi-Wan last slept, which meant that tonight, they'd be breaking out the big guns. Ahsoka knew the routine by now, the major points practiced enough that she could improvise a little to keep her Master from catching on. Co-Commanders Tano and Cody have a plan.

Mall Rat Ahsoka by phoenixyfriend - Rated G

Ahsoka falls into the mall fountain, gets fished out by a security guard, and gets Obi-Wan to lie and claim he's her father to get out of trouble. It works.

Diplomacy by Phosphorescent - Rated G

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka's mission to Tatooine does not go according to plan. Anakin's really going to be sorry he missed this... “The Mighty Jabba has been looking for a new dancer ever since our last one… required replacement,” the droid said. It moved closer, head swiveling back and forth between the two Jedi. “You are a fit specimen. Please report to the tailor droid for a fitting of your dancing outfit.” Ahsoka had her lightsaber in hand and ignited practically before the droid had finished speaking.

The Thread That Binds Us by Did_you_see_the_light_in_my_heart - Rated G

Ahsoka is running out of time to get her formal robes for the Yearly Ball For All Sentient Beings and no matter how hard she tries, she can't seem to get Anakin's attention long enough to help her solve the problem. But maybe someone else can help her. “Tell me, my dear, what’s troubling you?” Master Kenobi asks. She lowers her fork and stops, swallowing hard. “I… I don’t have anything to wear for the ball,” she says quietly. Set early in Ahsokas apprenticeship. Relationships are still fresh.

Accepting Emotion by LazarusII - Rated G

Dealing with the stress and anxiety of being a prospective Padawan, Ahsoka Tano struggles to manage her emotions. Obi-Wan Kenobi finds her practicing in the dojo, confidence in tatters. His words make all the difference.

Chosen, not assigned by Lysore - Rated G

"It looks like our problems are solved. Fresh troops, new supplies, and perhaps they brought my new Padawan with them," Obi-Wan had said. Though there seemed to be a misunderstanding regarding the identity of the Master of said Padawan.

carried in your heart by grumpyhedgehogs - Rated G

“I am always with you.” Obi-Wan tells her. Her heart thumps painfully in her chest as her grandmaster rests his palm over it. The organ betrays her, beats away like it can crack her ribs apart and slip between them to leap into Obi-Wan’s chest and stay there with him, always. Slowly, tentatively, Ahsoka lets Obi-Wan guide her to rest her own palm over his heart. It pulses under her fingers, reminding Ahsoka at least one Jedi still lives on. “You are always with me.”

Negotiator's Garden by NyeLung - Rated G

The curious thing is that the clone troopers keep bringing Master Kenobi those cuttings, he accepts them gratefully and then he puts them in soil and waters them and they don't wither and die. They should wither and die. That Alderaani snow zherry cannot withstand hyperspace travel. That Kashyyyk begonia is carnivorous and what Master Kenobi has put into the soil as roots are actually the tentacles it uses to catch prey. The oneshot where Obi-Wan is most likely some kind of space fae, Ahsoka is a botany nerd and there's debatably sentient plants.

these battle scars (don't look like they're fading) by CallToMuster - Rated T

If there was one thing Ahsoka knew about her grandmaster, it was that he hated medical treatment and those who gave it. She just never knew why.

Waiting and Learning by otherhawk - Rated G

During a brief period of time when Ahsoka Tano is working with the 212th under Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ahsoka takes part in a mission to obtain separatist codes. Unfortunately the mission involves a lot of downtime without much entertainment as they wait for an ambush. Along the way Ahsoka gets to know her grandmaster better and makes some new friends.

#ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano and obi wan kenobi #ahsoka fic rec #anakin skywalker #veryace recs #ao3 fic recs #fanfic recs #ao3 #star wars #star wars clone wars #star wars prequels #star wars fic recs

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sepublic · 2 years

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The Ren VS the Sith

Yknow what, let’s talk about the Ren VS Sith ideology. I think the main difference between the two is that the Ren is very much subservient to the dark side, which is known as the “shadow”, and Ren (the leader before Kylo) makes a point to Karrst that as a Knight of Ren, what that entails includes fighting the shadow’s battles, and preserving its tools.

He speaks not of devotion towards himself or an individual, but to a force of nature; One that he’s dedicated himself towards. In general, there seems to be an awe-filled reverence towards the shadow for the Knights of Ren, who regard it as a powerful force of nature that they pay tribute to, that they defend and act on its behalf; And maybe, just maybe, it will reward them for it. But if it doesn’t, oh well; They just gotta keep living. A lot of it is this particular faith and devotion for the shadow, and the Knights of Ren seem much more small-scale in regards to their goals.

They seem much more content with their quiet worship of the shadow, as well as finding any opportunity to survive; It feels rather nomadic to me. Not about settling down and building a big empire, just moving on from place to place and living, which fits with how Ren describes the ideology. I would argue the Ren involves much more of an attunement with ‘nature’ so to speak via the shadow, with an emphasis on the symbiotic relationship between the Knights and the shadow. It’s a lot humbler, and it reminds me of some cultures which are content to get just what they need from nature and then move on, while also making sure to pay due respects. The Ren feels a lot more conscious about the relationship between force-users and the force, akin to the Jedi ideology.

By contrast... Well, we know how it is with the Sith. Very Me-oriented, where the most important and only person who matters is Me, me, ME! The dark side is just a tool for the Sith to control and master, there’s no reverence for anything as a Sith. It’s all just how it can be used by them, and to their advantage. And the Sith are power-hungry, obsessed with accumulating power and building huge empires, with a tendency towards subjugation and domination. Tellingly, Momin was declared a heretic because he chose to worship the dark side, honor it with his creations, in the hopes of receiving blessings in return. It comes across as very Ren to me, which I’ve written already about the potential parallels between Momin and the Knights of Ren, so there’s that. And both were written by Charles Soule iirc.

So in essence, the Knights of Ren seem to worship the shadow as a god, they defend and believe in it, offer it tribute in hope of blessings, and place themselves in its hands, offering a lot of trust as a result. Whereas the Sith, they don’t trust, the dark side is theirs to master and conquer, and they don’t care about sustainability or anything like that. With how Ren describes the Ren as “just existing”, it sounds like an animal, or at least an aspect of nature; Which, makes the Knights of Ren come across to me as more cosmocentric in their beliefs, compared to the Sith who are anthropocentric. The person is the clear master of all for the Sith, whereas the Knights of Ren are a lot less presumptuous about their place in the world. They know they’re at the mercy of a lot and have chosen to accept this.

Which, all of this certainly brings new flavor to how the Sith canonically purged and targeted the Knights of Ren, as well as other force-sensitive groups. Just using the dark side doesn’t make you Sith-adjacent, look at how the Nightsisters were treated... And given how Palpatine leads an imperial organization, and it kinda reminds me of how more nature-oriented cultures, less concerned with building big cities and taming the wild, are seen as lesser by ‘civilized’ western societies who prize Man as the height of existence, and committed genocide on them. I have to wonder if the Knights of Ren being religiously persecuted by the Sith is meant to invoke this real-world occurrence. After all, the Knights don’t seem as focused on accumulating power, which can perhaps tie into how their force-sensitivity is untrained compared to the Sith; The Knights of Ren are content with what connection the Shadow provides (the Ren doesn’t care about goals and is fine with just living), but the Sith always want more and so temper the dark side to yield that.

The Sith are about domination, so of course they’d look down on the Knights of Ren for their subservience to the shadow; They’re not ‘true’ dark side adepts. The Knights of Ren care about preservation of the dark side’s artifacts for its own sake, whereas the Sith are far more utilitarian and coldly pragmatic about what’s retained; They’re fascists, I doubt they care much for the arts or history. And I guess that helps explain why the Sith and Knights of Ren don’t get along, aside from the Sith just being very prickly in general. It makes it all the more tragic that as a religion targeted by the Sith for being ‘lesser’, the Ren had to be preserved by any means necessary; And for the Knights, that meant serving a Sith Lord to survive.

It’s really not ideal and I have to wonder if it’s akin to how a lot of marginalized groups sometimes have to assimilate and work for their oppressors to be spared. Of course, this begs the question of why the Knights of Ren kept this up even after Palpatine was deeply knocked down several pegs, and the Empire was dissolved; Why help reinstate that? Mayhaps the Knights of Ren feared the Jedi as an even greater threat to their way of life, for they opposed the dark side entirely as keepers of light; And/or they sought to preserve Exegol as THE artifact of the shadow, even if that meant dealing with a Sith. Maybe they wanted to keep the Jedi away from Exegol and unaware, while still finding a way to take out Palpatine...

And that makes me want to bring up Snoke as well, since he isn’t considered a Sith; Dude talks a lot about merging light and dark, so he’s clearly a lot more experimental and open-minded about the force, compared to the Sith. More artistic too, like Momin; He compares himself to a sculptor, with Kylo being the ideal material to work with. As I said, the Sith are fascists and fascists don’t exactly appreciate art.

What intrigues me is that Ren seems to trust and hold Snoke in some decent regard; He admits that he’s mostly considering Ben Solo as a convert, due to Snoke vouching for him. And we know Snoke was interested in the dark side and its artifacts, he did have that distinct ring of his and all. We know Luke did a lot of research into the past and ruins to resurrect the Jedi Order, and that he and Snoke interacted, evidently not as adversaries at first. So it makes me wonder if Snoke was also someone who was interested in researching into the past, in preserving and studying it for its own sake.

Which as you can guess, sounds more Ren than Sith; So maybe that’s the key connection. Maybe the Knights of Ren formed a mutual relationship with Snoke, counting on him to use his First Order resources to protect artifacts of the dark side; Snoke of course gets knowledge and cool trinkets in return. And because he’s more open-minded than the Sith, this leads to more respect by him for the Ren, which he advocates for to Kylo; Granted, it could just be Snoke saying whatever is necessary. That is a trait both Ren and Sith.

But given the potential for disagreement between Snoke and Palpatine, it does make me wonder. Perhaps Snoke respected the Ren more than Sidious did, I wouldn’t be surprised if he exercised far more autonomy and free-thinking than Palpatine would’ve liked, hence setting Snoke up to get killed by Kylo. There are theories that Snoke wanted to use Kylo to rebel against Palpatine... And maybe in whatever vision he had for HIS galaxy, it actually accommodated groups like the Knights of Ren.

Perhaps Snoke was more like Momin and the Knights of Ren, not as committed to domination as the Sith, but leaning a bit more towards curiosity. The Sith are selfish and hoard things, but the Knights of Ren presumably aren’t; The Sith eventually decided there can only be one apprentice to keep the dark side to themselves as much as possible, but Snoke seems more willing to share, more willing to invest in others and cultivate them. Snoke isn’t as afraid of losing his power and control like a Sith is. He mentions wanting to train other apprentices to Kylo, though his words to Kylo are of dubious honesty as well.

That could be another reason for Palps to regard Snoke as a threat; Snoke didn’t think very Sith, hence why he never was one. He was comparatively more chill about sharing the force and exploring it with others, cultivating it in others, and in general seemed to be a lot less coldly utilitarian towards it. Which, if Snoke differs on the Sith with how the force and the galaxy should be governed, then that’s just further motive for a potential betrayal. So out goes Snoke...

Huh. I wonder if Ren was aware of this with Snoke, and his relationship with Palpatine. If Snoke and the Knights of Ren sort of got along in their somewhat disgruntled subservience to an ideology they questioned. If maybe there was a silent agreement that if Snoke ever defied Sidious, the Knights of Ren would back him up; Hence the trust and respect for Snoke’s advocacy. So both groups saw the other as their not-so-hidden card up their sleeve against the Sith, if necessary... A mutually beneficial agreement where unlike with the Sith, they could actually coexist; So maybe they should just get rid of the Sith entirely then, hmm?

Ben encountering the Knights of Ren and being intrigued in them, it could be both Palpatine and Snoke’s manipulations in guiding him towards their own ideas of the dark side, so long as it’s darkness at all for Kylo. The Knights of Ren stumbling across Luke on Elphrona is likely no coincidence, considering Ben was telepathically talking to Snoke about his trip there. And the TROS novelization did confirm the Knights of Ren as knowingly grooming Ben themselves. I guess Snoke and the Knights saw Kylo as a means to throw aside the Sith restriction of Palpatine, which aligns very well with the Knights of Ren’s motivations in Crimson Reign. How much was using the Knights of Ren specifically to influence Kylo the idea of Palpatine, or Snoke? Snoke could’ve just insisted that he and Kylo train together alone, but he supports Ben seeking out the Knights of Ren, and if Snoke helped set up the encounter that inspired him to...

TL;DR There is definitely some religious nuance in regards to different dark side sects, and their opinions on whether they can co-exist with other sects or not. In the end, it seems the Knights of Ren were religiously persecuted by the Sith, just like the Jedi... But while they had hopes and ambitions to overthrow the Sith and finally be free to live as themselves, the Knights of Ren were also realistic. If they saw Kylo as a means to rebel, then him turning to the light side renders a lot of that redundant perhaps; A Sith might be preferable to Jedi reign after all. So when Kylo aims to kill Palpatine and help Rey, the Knights of Ren side with the Sith, because allowing for the Jedi to flourish is even worse for them. That, or they counted on Rey defeating Palpatine on her own as she eventually did... Which meant the Knights of Ren didn’t need Kylo anymore.

And the Knights of Ren were probably sick of Kylo’s guts and having to obey him while also pulling the strings on their puppet, so they saw it as an opportunity for revenge... Which then is a bit tragic; If they hadn’t prioritized revenge and just left Ben and Rey to do their work, the Knights of Ren would’ve been free. But they wanted both, just as they wanted Exegol unspoiled by the Jedi (hence not notifying Luke of Palpatine’s survival there), while also wanting the Sith gone. Hence working with Snoke in this roundabout way instead of just letting the New Republic and Jedi handle things.

Also, I must add; In the grand scheme of things, the Knights of Ren clearly aren’t very sustainable given how their MO is to just take from others, and they’re known for raiding entire worlds. But compared to the Sith, they’re definitely more mindful of mutualistic relationships, with their veneration of the shadow. I think the Ren operates on the logic that in taking from others, the Knights of Ren feed into the dark side by fighting its battles, and also do so by preserving its artifacts; So the Knights of Ren, they do stuff for the shadow, and in return it provides opportunities to keep raising and thus ‘feeds’ them.

#Star Wars #knights of ren #sith #snoke #kylo ren #sheev palpatine #speculation #analysis #meta

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stormkobra-5 · 2 years

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The Heir of Djarin

Episode 8: Rising Phoenix

Summary: Poe and Laylah return to D’Qar with Din, Grogu, BB-8, and the promise of the Mand’alore. Now, things are kind of back to normal, and Laylah earns the final piece of her inheritance. But the First Order is still disturbingly quiet... Until Poe discovers what they’re looking for.

A/N: There are differences between Heir of Djarin and the Poe Dameron comics, such as Poe already has Black Squadron formed at the beginning of Heir of Djarin, whereas the first Poe Dameron comic is supposed to take place at the end of Heir of Djarin.

Warnings: This story is rated 14+ for canon-typical violence, action, and language. The main character is recovering from a traumatic backstory for the sake of the plot, so there is mention of distrust, social anxiety, self-doubt, and emotional damage. Later chapters may involve mature themes for drug usage (spice), excessive alcohol consumption, and clubs that imply adult entertainment (the main characters do not take part). Nothing explicit in any chapters.

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We walk through the gardens-- her gardens, I come to learn-- for the better part of an hour before settling on a bench of white wood, fitted with cushions on the seat and back for her comfort. She tells me stories. Of how her older sister, Duchess Satine Kryze, never approved of her joining a group called the Death Watch on Mandalore to overthrow their pacifist government and remake it into the glorious place it once was. How Satine was killed by Darth Maul out of spite in front of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, the very same who partially trained Luke Skywalker and his father before him, who became Darth Vader. She tells me of her friendship with Ahsoka Tano, and her continuance of her struggles to return Mandalore to its old ways. Of the Nite Owls. Of her many exploits trying to free and revive Mandalore. Then she tells me of her quest to locate and retrieve the Darksaber. Of how she hunted Moff Gideon for years before finally locating him-- only to have Din Djarin win the Darksaber. How later on, she was injured in battle, and could no longer fight for her people. “I discovered it the hard way when I got one of my own killed.” A shadow passes over her face that doesn’t seem to fade. “I was unworthy of my armor. I had betrayed the Creed. Without me, any hope for a true Mandalorian leader faded away... I continued in a different way. I sought out Mandalorians to join the Last Blood. A brotherhood of our people across the galaxy that were like me: waiting for the Chosen One to come forward. I passed on my armor to Maz Kanata, who felt it necessary to give it to Din Djarin.” She pats my knee. “And that, dear girl, is where you come in. How did Din find you?” Kriff. I’ve never told anyone but Poe this story. Leia and Maz know only parts of it, like Kylo Ren. I can’t look at her as I speak. “I... I fell from the sky. I was yanked from my time and place, and ended up... here. I was on the planet Din was staying with Grogu-- he found me. Took me in, made me a foundling. Trained me. Named me a Mandalorian and his heir. And then... then he gave me the Slave. He gave me your armor. I can only hope I can honor your legacy, Lady Kryze.” She inspects my pauldrons and vambraces with a smile. “These dents and scratches are new. You’ve put the armor to use... yet, I wonder, why did you keep the old marks when you repainted it? Even the owl?” “You earned these scars, Lady Kryze,” I reply softly, “I wasn’t going to erase them.” “Why?” She challenges. “Because...” I start, then, “Because that’s what the people did where I came from. Erased history. Rewrote it. Ignored those who came before them. It’s one of many things I vowed never to become.” She regards me carefully, narrowing her eyes. “And what else did you vow?” I answer her question immediately but carefully. “Never to be greedy or selfish. To always think of the needs of others and protect the weak and innocent. To uphold honor and dignity. To learn from the lessons set forth by my predecessors.” “And this was before you came here, to this galaxy?” She sounds intrigued. “Yes, Lady Kryze.” She tilts her chin up, something like approval in her eyes. “Then the stories I have heard of you are correct. You have the heart of a Mandalorian.” She thinks for a second. “What will you do when the time comes to revive Mandalore, young Djarin? Will you be ready for it?” I think about that for a second. “One is never ready, Lady Kryze-- but one can always be prepared. I will learn, and I will listen, not only to the words of the people, but to the advice of those I trust. I will learn from the mistakes I make and fix them.” “You strive for an honorable purpose, young Djarin,” Bo-Katan inclines her head, gesturing to a nearby protocol droid. “Summon the Mandalorians.” I half expect them all to jetpack in, but they walk normally, careful of the gardens. Din is with them. Bo-Katan stands before them, and everyone kneels until she orders them to stand. “This child,” Bo-Katan says, “Is the one whom will wield the Darksaber. She is to become the Duchess of Mandalore. You are to heed her commands and her call as if Mandalore is as it once was. We are the Last Blood-- we are all that is left... To you, young Djarin, I present a choice.” I lift my head, stunned speechless. Hell. “You can continue on the fighting path to free Mandalore with the Resistance, or, you can join us, begin to lead us now. Join our covert missions to cripple the First Order and gather supplies for the founding of our new planet.” I look back and forth between Bo-Katan and the Last Blood nervously. My gaze rests on Din, who gives no sign of what he’s thinking. But... I’m not Leia. After this little escapade, I clearly have a lot to learn about leadership. I’m still young and naive. Slowly, I stand, taking a deep breath. “I cannot express in words how grateful I am for your offer, Lady Kryze,” I manage, “I’ve waited a long time to be among my people. But... also, I’m not yet ready to lead you all. I still have very much to learn and see in this galaxy, and the last thing I want is to disappoint you with an ill-suited leader to a very important task. For now, my path is with the Resistance. One day, when the war is over, that will change. And then I’ll be older, and wiser, and can lead you as you deserve.” Bo-Katan nods with approval. Boba Fett inclines his head to me. Din looks on with what I hope is pride. The Mandalorians thrust their right fists into the air. “Vhaene-Besu! Vhaene-Besu! Vhaene-Besu! Hail to the Heiress of Mandalore!” I have to put my helmet on to hide my my flustered, tear-jerked face. “Should you ever need me, you need only call. I will come.” Together, as one, every Mandalorian in the garden, including myself, says, “This is the Way.” “Allow us to escort you back to your ship, princess,” A young woman in sand-colored armor all but asks. “It would be an honor.” I incline my head. “I accept. Thank you.” “I will stay here,” Bo-Katan sinks back into her seat. “The walk is too far for my bad knee. I would only disgrace you.” “I will remain with you,” Boba said. I kneel before Bo-Katan one more time. “My Lady Kryze-- it was the highest honor I can imagine to have met you.” Standing, I start up a different version of the chant they had granted me. One they all follow suit for without question. “Bo-Katan! Bo-Katan! Bo-Katan! Hail to the Duchess of Mandalore!” There are tears in her eyes as she takes my hands in hers. “You honor my legacy, Laylah Vhaene-Besu of Clan Djarin. Farewell.” I turn to Boba Fett, shaking his hand. “It was an honor, sir.” Boba Fett nods in acknowledgement. “The honor is mine, princess. I doubt this is the last time we’ll see one another; I’m sure you’re bound to get in all sorts of other adventures before long.” I can’t help but smile. “I hope that when we meet isn’t limited to only dangerous finales to adventures, Boba Fett. You might get tired of it.” He chuckles. “I doubt it, princess. Good luck.” “Thank you.” Din flanks my left as the Mandalorians take up the rear. My heart is pounding, my head feels light. Hell. Did that really happen? In the hall, we meet Lando Calrissian and Poe. Lando bows his head with a smile. “Lady Djarin. How was it?” “I can think of no higher honor, sir,” I reply, shaking his hand. “Thank you, Calrissian. It’s been an honor to meet you.” “I hope you return to Cloud City someday, my lady,” He says. “I definitely will. It’s beautiful-- and a wonderful place for the Last Blood. You’re very generous for sheltering my people.” He bows at the waist. “It’s my pleasure. Farewell, princess,” Lando smiles, “And good luck.” “Thank you, Calrissan. Farewell.” Once we’re back to the Slave, I see that it’s loaded with crates of medical supplies. Din’s starfighter is stored in the hold of a cargo ship close by, which also holds more medical supplies. I don’t need to check them. Once on the ship, I turn to the Last Blood and incline my head. “Thank you, Mandalorians.” “This is the Way,” They reply, but the male in front says, “Farewell, princess. Good luck.” The ramp closes, and finally, Poe, BB-8 and I are free of prying eyes. I tear off my helmet and turn to him with a huge smile, kind of bouncing up-and-down with excitement. “I met Bo-Katan!” Poe bounces with me. “The Bo-Katan?!” “Yeah!” “Well-- what’d she say?!” Poe demands, but I wave him off and rush past him, squeezing between the medical crates to the cockpit. “I’ll tell you everything while we’re in lightspeed, Poe!” As I’m strapping myself in, I call behind me, “But long story short, I’m officially a duchess!” “That’s awesome, Bez!” There’s a moment of hesitation. “Does... does that mean I’ll eventually end up a duke?” “Maybe,” I laugh, when I power up the ship, “But you’d have to wear your formal uniform all the time. Oh, and grow a beard so you look wise and stuff.” “I am not growing a beard!” Poe calls back, laughing. “Stop asking!” “I wasn’t asking!” “You are implying your question!” I switch the comlink on, shaking my head with amusement. “Ready, Dad? Gizmo?” “Badu.” “Grogu, don’t touch that. Yeah, we’re ready. After you.” He sniffles. Yes, sniffles. As if he’s been crying. “Dad?” I ask in disbelief. “Huh?” “Are you crying?” “NO, I have a COLD.” “One you didn’t have when I got here? That’s fast-moving, Dad. You might need to see a doctor.” “Oh hush up. You gonna fly or what?” I push the Slave into a liftoff, into the coral-rose sky and off into the endless reaches of space and stars.

- - -

Needless to say, there’s a mix of reactions when we get back to D’Qar. Leia, understandably, sternly gives us the what-for, although she listens eagerly when we tell her about Bo-Katan and Boba Fett. The whole base is cheering and whooping as we push out medical supplies from our ships onto the tarmac to be rolled into the medbay. I’m surrounded by medics I’ve trained with and Dia asking me if I’m alright, what happened, how did I get these. Din, of course, drags Poe and I to the medbay, where we’re checked over and our wounds are properly treated with actual equipment. We disappear into our bunks to shower, but Poe’s a little late to meet me by Leia’s door since he takes the time to scrub Beebs clean. We tell Leia everything-- well... maybe not everything, although she gets a twinkle in her eye when we deliberately skip parts we’d like to keep between us. Threepio fusses over Beebs, begging he tell him everything, until Leia tells them to leave the room and talk so that she can actually hear what Poe and I are saying. We are given sanitation duty for a week, barring any necessary reasons for Poe getting in his X-wing and me going straight to the medbay. That night, medics and Black Squadron combine with the presence of Din, Connix, and a few other commanders to hear every detail of the story. Poe and I take turns telling it, embellishing certain parts and leaving others just as they are. Neither of us say anything about the kiss (although he does brag about how he swung us to safety in the temple) but everybody figures it out anyway, since Poe and I had requested to share a bunk earlier, which Leia found amusing for some reason and which prompted a twenty-minute lecture from Din that involved fists and guns and lots of threats that nearly had Poe revoking the idea. The next day, Poe and I essentially “move in together,” into Poe’s slightly-bigger commander bunk with its own little fresher. People ask if that seems a little fast, but then we remind them that this is war, and we’ve shared near-death and battle experiences. You can’t exactly put something off if you want it, because you might not get it. Though honestly? I’ve never slept better than I have curled up to Poe, with BB-8 on his charging station in the corner for the night. Suddenly, I find the closet full of my clothes and his, plus his flight suits, and next to Grogu’s rock that he gave me is a model X-wing Poe’s dad got him when he was a kid. The whole fresher system changes-- we try, really, we do, to make it work so there’s only one of us in there at once, but it just takes too much time. So while I shower, he shaves, then he showers while I get dressed. We’re almost normal, even hurrying out the door with nothing more than a quick kiss and a “Gotta go to work, see you later.” Poe returns to his duties as the leader of Black Squadron a week after our return to D’Qar. I’m back to hardly seeing him, but I hear the thunder of X-wings practicing in the mountains and smile. At least, I always see him at night, even though we’re always finishing up work on our datapads-- except for when he does night drills. Then he comes back for only a few hours of sleep before rushing back to the tarmac. When Poe returns to his duties, my training resumes. I’m upped a level, like I was to supposed to be before we ran off, and Dia can’t get over the fact that I’m technically royalty. All of a sudden everybody wants to be my friend, and it’s actually a little frightening. Sometimes when it gets too much, Din will let me carry Grogu with me-- all attention is on him when he’s with me, and he eats it up like those blue cookies he loves so much. Din, he remains a commander. He sees me in the cafeteria every day when I’m not busy practicing poking around somebody’s insides using a dummy or a holographic simulator, and despite the fact that he pretends he really doesn’t like Poe, he actually admits that he approves of him. “Somewhat,” He specifies when my face lights up, “I don’t like the fact that he takes you on random dangerous adventures.” “It was my idea, Dad!” Sometimes, I find myself missing my family more than ever. My mother, Rochelle, what would she think of me now? What about Thomas, Julia, Tristan, Jade? How are they? Are they doing alright? I wish I could do so much as write them a letter. I know that they’d love Din. Maybe he and Mom could’ve gotten together, if they’d come with me through the portal. I definitely know they’d love Grogu. And Poe? Well, fighter pilots run in the family. They’d approve. Of course, I often wonder about the Force. I leave myself open to it, and am now experiencing the world with a kind of sixth-sense. A spider-sense, y’know? It’s not so bad. I wonder about Ahsoka Tano. I worry about my fellow Mandalorians. I wonder about Kylo Ren, about if we’ll ever cross paths again. I memorialize TN-9824 in a painting. I think about the stormtrooper I seen mopping floors, and the girl scavenging for parts. If my fever-dreams were visions, they proved true enough so far. I wonder what I have to do with them. For now, though, the First Order is quiet, so I let myself be happy while I can.

- - -

A rest day. The first one after our return to D’Qar, three weeks later. Everything is going smoothly and calmly, so I’m surprised when, at breakfast, Din approaches me with Grogu in one arm and a mysterious package in the other. Actually, that’s not even the surprising part. “You’ve got the day off, right?” “This time around, yeah,” I answer, “Why?” I perk up, realizing what’s happening, “Ooh! You got somethin’ planned, Dad?!” “I do. Put on your armor and meet me on the tarmac in half an hour.” With that, he leaves, because that’s not at all confusing. Luckily I was done with breakfast. I haven’t worn my armor since Poe and I’s unsanctioned endeavor. I’ve cleaned it twice, though, so it’s nice and shiny when I bring it out from under the bed and put it all on. I’m out on the tarmac almost on the dot of half an hour, scanning for Din’s hard-to-miss silver beskar-- and Black One, naturally. ’Course, Poe’s not anywhere near here. He was actually ordered on a mission this time, to go grab some intel that might reveal why the First Order seems to be focused elsewhere. None of the members of Black Squadron are on D’Qar at all. They should be back later today, but... “There you are,” Din’s voice from behind makes me jump. He guesses where I was looking since I have my helmet on. “Stop worrying. He’ll be fine.” I nod, though I can’t bring myself not to worry. Worrying is my thing. Din walks past me. “Come on. Follow me.” “Where we headed?” “I can’t tell you.” I skip up to keep pace with him, though it’s hard-- for a guy who’s almost sixty, he’s pretty kriffing fast. “Ooh! A surprise? Interesting... Gizmo! Any clue as to what’s goin’ on?” “Badu,” He babbles, “Du.” “Ah. Gotcha. Totally secret stuff. Nice. That means it’s gonna be good.” I manage not to ask questions. Not when we leave the tarmac for the forest, not when we follow an old, beaten path into the mountains, not when we get so high up that the X-wings and Y-wings practicing zip by on high-speed passes so close they nearly deafen us. “Okay, I give up.” I slump down onto a boulder, trying to catch my breath. After all, my blastershot wound still isn’t completely healed. “Where are we going? What’s in the package? Why are we going on the side of the mountain opposite from which the jets are practicing?” “That’s a record for how long you’ve held in your curiosity,” Din comments with amusement as he turns to face me. “I’m not telling you a thing. Besides, we’re almost there. Come on.” He continues up the path, so with a heavy sigh, I heave myself to my feet and trudge after him. We emerge onto a relatively empty field next to a cliff overlooking the valley. I inch closer to peer over the edge-- it’s a sharp, straight drop-off into oblivion. “Dad, are you trying to get me to help you hide a body?” He hefts the package pointedly. “What body is this small?” I shrug. “Maybe you rolled up a dead jawa. How am I supposed to know? I’m not the murderer.” Din chuckles. “Turn around and face the cliff, kid.” I do, fully trusting him but at the same time the trained part of my brain is freaking out irrationally about him pushing me off the cliff. “You ever heard of the Rising Phoenix?” “Sounds like a Harry Potter movie,” I respond, stiffening when I feel him attach something very heavy to my back. “There you go again, with your weird Earth references...” “They aren’t weird where I come from, pal.” “I bet. So, the Rising Phoenix was a particular kind of training. It’s one of the many things that makes a Mandalorian warrior what they are. I got my very first one when I was first looking after Grogu, but you have the advantage of having one ready and waiting for you.” “Wait-- kriff-- Dad-- are you giving me a jetpack?!” I try to turn to see, but he makes me look ahead. “I’m giving you Bo-Katan’s jetpack. The final piece of your inheritance-- stop trying to see it, hold still. I need to re-sync it to your helmet.” Wait... “My helm-- it works like Iron Man?!” Din pauses. “Uh... sure.” Kriffing hell, I’m gonna be like Iron Man! “Cool! So is it like eye gestures or thinking or what?” “Neither. More of a will. You’ll see.” There’s a final chink, and the jetpack is firmly attached. The dim jetpack symbol in the bottom of my screen blinks away for a second before returning with a full fuel gauge and a brighter color. My heart is pounding with excitement, butterflies doing somersaults in my stomach. I glance over to Din as he comes to stand on my right side, making sure Grogu is very secure in his bag and harness. He gives me a little thumbs-up which I excitedly return. Din turns his head to look at me.“Alright... Ready?” I eagerly nod, trying to copy his casual stance. “Now... Just... will the jetpack to turn on. Do it with me.” Din’s jetpack kicks on, and he hovers a few feet off the ground. I try as hard as I can, but it’s easy, because the only thing going through my head is jetpackjetpackjetpackjetpack. Mine bursts to life with a hiss of fire, lifting me off the ground with him; surprisingly, I feel no heat. For a second, we hover there, my stomach plummeting and I’m giggling madly at the sensation. I’m flying! “Very good. Now do it in reverse.” I do. Terra firma feels so inferior now. “How much fuel is in these things?” I ask curiously, an idea forming in my head. “About twelve hours’ worth-- Laylah, no!” I’m already running. I leap right off the cliff and dive toward the valley below. I’m screaming and laughing at once, because this is the best feeling I’ve ever experienced-- this weightlessness, this freedom, as I fall full-speed toward the earth below and I know that no one can catch me. I know Din comes after me, but I don’t want to be caught. I streamline my body and race for the valley of trees below. No one’s ever gonna catch me again. I faintly hear Din calling my name. I wait-- I wait until the last second, and then I activate my jetpack. Full speed. I shoot up, straight past Din and into the open sky before me, free. I have the movements down-- partially because of the fact that on Earth, I watched Avengers a lot. Iron Man was always my favorite superhero. Learn from the best. I copy his pose and I’m going so fast I can feel the same Gs I do when Poe takes me up in his X-wing with him and flies me around the mountains; otherwise, I’ve never felt them before. There are no Gs to pull in space. I shoot as high up as possible, but it starts to get hard to breathe and far too cold. I drop. I let the jetpack shut off and I free-fall. I’m spinning, but on purpose, and then I activate my jetpack again and shoot off down the valley, ensuring to stay well out of the way of the practicing pilots. Up here, untethered from any solid ground, I feel more at ease than I ever have, even in the Slave. I could fly forever. The empty blue sky calls me to keep going. The ground feels like a burden and space too far away. But the sky is all mine, and nobody can catch me up here. There’s no burden of restoring a cursed planet or finding a new one entirely. There’s no war, no First Order, no Resistance. Nothing and no one else but me, free, and this vast expanse of robin’s egg blue before me. I’m never gonna come down. I know I have to, eventually. But thankfully the opportunity presents itself in the form of none other than Poe Dameron, probably the only thing that can get me down. “Laylah,” Din sing-songs over the comlink, having long since stopped trying to stop me and rather praise me and follow me as closely as he can. “Your boyfriend’s here. Just got the message from Connix. If you were closer to base, you might’ve heard her.” I’ve been planning this all day. “Is he landed? Like actually on the ground?” There’s a pause, then, “He’s just shutting down Black One now. Why?” “Follow me and find out!” I’m a few miles out, but it only takes me a few minutes to speed by Din and Grogu and back toward base. I have to time this perfectly, or it’ll be an embarrassing waste of a badass move. I’m a flying person in a suit of armor-- I have to pull this stunt, out of respect for RDJ and Iron Man. My rangefinder lets me see what my eyes can’t-- that Poe’s just climbing out of his cockpit, parked at the head of Black Squadron’s parked spacecraft. I pitch down, getting to twenty, then ten feet, catching the attention of everybody in the vicinity. I cut the power to the jetpack and drop, landing just like Iron Man. Kriff-- ow-- my kriffing hand-- don’t have kriffing-- beskar gloves-- kriff-- ow-- I stand like it’s no big deal that I slammed my hand full-force into duracrete and probably broke something. My hand is throbbing. But Poe seen it, and he’s smiling, so that’s all that matters. The pain in my hand suddenly seems to fade away. Only to return a second later because I just kriffing broke my hand for aesthetic. Poe beams at me. “Wow, Bez. You got your jetpack!” I do a mock bow, holding my injured hand to my stomach. “Thank you, thank you, you’re a great audience.” Poe snorts with amusement, shaking his head as he hands his helmet and gloves off. But something’s wrong. He doesn’t have his usual cocky smile ready to tell me how the mission went. He doesn’t run up to greet me. He’s worried. Very. I go up to him, trying to conceal the fact that I’ve hurt my hand. “Poe... What’s wrong?” “I’ll tell you later,” He promises, “Right now I need to go debrief with Leia.” Then he rushes off, running his hand through his hair without even pausing to give me a kiss. The whole of Black Squadron follows him, and Poe actually stops Din in his tracks, gesturing inside; Din follows. Now I know it’s bad. But I can’t do anything. I’m not qualified to be in that debrief. I’ll have to hear it from Din and Poe later. For now, I need to get my kriffing arm checked.

- - -

“Dumbass,” Poe scoffs, shaking his head, when he sees the cast and sling on my arm. I’ve fractured most of my knucklebones and sprained my wrist pretty badly. “I was going for the look,” Comes my weak defense. “You’re just lucky you just didn’t break your arm. That would’ve been embarrassing. The move itself was badass, though. I’d try it on soft ground next time, from a lower height.” “Consider it done.” He doesn’t say anything about his mission yet, and I don’t ask. I never do. I wait for him to tell me when he’s ready, especially when he’s worried. So we go about getting ready for bed, but when I sit down and am ready to try figuring out how to get into bed with my damn sling, Poe says, “Finally figured out why they’ve gone quiet.” I scoot forward, giving him my full and complete attention. He runs his mom’s ring up and down the chain around his neck, which he only does when he’s very nervous. Which only makes me nervous. I hug him from behind, balancing on my knees, and he kisses my wrist. “They planning some nefarious deed or another?” “They’re looking for Luke Skywalker,” Poe explains softly. “That crystal on your necklace we thought was a map? They thought it was one, too. They thought it was a map to Luke. Hell, they didn’t even know about Palpatine’s lightsaber until they followed us to the temple.” Luke? The last living Jedi? No wonder they’re looking for him. Kylo Ren probably wants to kick his ass in front of his troops to prove that Sith are superior or whatever. “You think they’ll find him?” Poe shakes his head. “Not even Leia knows where he is, and she’s been looking for him for years. Hopefully the First Order will have the same luck... but now we have leads. Lor San Tekka is an old friend of Leia’s who might know where he is. The problem is finding him.” He flops back onto the bed, heaving a sigh. He thinks for a minute. “...I want you to come with me.”

“Uh?” I say, very intelligently, making him smile a bit.

“I want you to come with me,” He repeats, sitting up to take my hands in his. “You’re a medic now. You’re one kickass pilot. I want you out there watching my back from the Slave. I want you to be a part of Black Squadron: a medic in the field. How’d you feel about that?”

Slowly, I’m smiling. On Earth, I’d wanted to be a doctor in the Air Force some day. This is pretty much the same thing, but in space. I lean forward and give him a kiss. “Duh I’ll join you.”

Poe smiles warmly, pulling me close for a hug. “...Your dad’s not gonna approve.”

“Dad doesn’t approve of anything dangerous,” I retort, “But that doesn’t stop me from doing them anyway.”

“You’ll have to wait till your arm heals, though.” He teases.

I lay down beside him, and there’s a horrible crunch as my cast almost breaks. The comical sound in such a serious moment has Poe covering his face as he laughs when I cry out in a very undignified tone, “AgH kRiFF--” “Bet you’ll never do that again.” He says, pulling me up into a better position on my other side. I give him a kiss. “Never.”

- - -

Eight months go by without anyone really thinking about them. The year shifts from 33 to 34 ABY, and I turn twenty. Grogu and I make it a point to celebrate Din’s fifty-ninth birthday, although he knocks off a couple of the candles on his cake so that it’s fifty-five. On base, things seem calm and even almost normal, but there’s a tense undertone to everything we do. The commanders are always busy in meetings, going off-world to try and secure aid and assist planets, or overseeing missions from a distance. The control rooms are full of people on headsets communicating with our people in the field when they can, supervising scheduled check-ins and unexpected scenarios.

Once my arm heals, I do become a member of Black Squadron. I join them in their search for Lor San Tekka and their run-ins with Agent Terex, who honestly reminds me of those mustached villains in black-and-white movies that overdo their evil laughs.

The First Order is everywhere we go now. Several of our people have been captured-- only a handful have been found or rescued. There’s no word from Bespin, from Lando or Bo-Katan or Boba Fett. There shouldn’t be. With the First Order looming, I’m hoping they’ve decided to go even quieter than before. Hopefully Lando has even fled the planet; with his hand in the Rebellion so many years ago, I’m sure the First Order is looking for him as a “war criminal.”

Then we find Lor San Tekka. His location, at least. Hopefully. A small little desert planet called Jakku.

The whole of Black Squadron waits for Poe by our ships nervously. Despite the fact that I’m a part of them now, I still like to keep to myself, so I lean against the Slave with my arms crossed and my helmet on, trying not to show the fact that my stomach is swirling with anxious butterflies.

I’m sure that, by now, the First Order must have gotten a hold of the information as well. It’ll be a race, one that we might not when. If they find Luke first, who knows what they’ll do.

Somehow, I’m not sure why, but the Republic still isn’t concerned that the First Order is actually a threat. Yet here they are causing chaos and disrupting peace and hunting old Jedi dudes that just want to be left alone. Sounds a lot like an Earth government, to me.

Snap and Karé are off talking by themselves by Snap’s X-wing, looking very serious. Jess and Suralinda try to fix up a droid while a mechanic is working on repairing the faulty engine of Jess’s X-wing. I say nothing. To Black Squadron, I rarely speak. I’m their quiet, calm medic, and I’m determined to stay that way.

Finally, I hear the trademark little bweep of BB-8 as he and Poe approach, though Poe looks sullen at best. The whole of Black Squadron faces him expectantly. “When are we leaving for Jakku?” Karé asks, but I know that look.

“We’re not all going to Jakku, are we, Poe?” I say, and the whole team seems surprised at the Mandalorian’s interjection.

Poe’s gaze lands briefly, regretfully, on me. “No. We’re not. I’m going alone.”

“Why?” Snap demands, “You know that we--”

“It’s not a question of your skills,” Poe interrupts, and scans over all of us as he speaks. “Listen... The First Order is probably already on this. Leia needs the best we have going in there, and we’re it-- but if we all go and none of us make it out... I wish I could take you. Really.” His eyes rest briefly on me. “But we need the best of the best always ready to do what Leia needs done. I’m going to lessen any losses.”

Your loss would be no lesser, I want to snap, angry but understanding.

“You’re all to stay here,” Poe adds, “That’s an order. Bez, I’m talking to you.”

I only incline my head. We both know I’ll disobey that order if necessary.

“When are you leaving?” Jess questions, and Poe sighs.

“Now. I need to get there as soon as possible.” My heart catches in my throat. He’s going where I can’t follow. What’s worse is that the First Order may already be waiting for him. Maybe I’ll break the order as soon as he’s left the tarmac.

“I’m taking a different X-wing,” Poe continues, “Try to keep it less noticeable.” He indicates it with a wave of his arm, and I immediately make my way over as he bids the Black Squadron farewell. My heart is heavy, and I feel a hard core of grief in my chest. I have a very, very bad feeling about this mission. Poe and BB-8 arrive shortly thereafter, and I take my helmet off so our eyes can meet unobstructed; there are words flying unspoken between us. No long goodbyes. We promised that, too. “Say goodbye to Bez, then go ahead and get in,” Poe tells the little droid; he’s not even wearing his flight suit. I kneel down to give BB-8 a hug. “Be careful, buddy.” He beeps and hurries off to get lifted up into the X-wing. Poe and I face each other. When I start to speak, he raises a hand. “Ah. No L-word, remember?” I make a face. “I remember. But.” I reach up and take my amulet over my head to give it to him. He lets me put it on him before giving me his necklace. There’s a stiff lump of emotion in my throat and my eyes are watering, but I force myself not to cry. This time is different. The First Order might already be there, and if they see him... “For good luck. Bring it back to me, Poe.” Poe’s having just as much trouble as I am. His grip on my hands is tight. “I will. You better not lose my mom’s ring.” “I won’t.” We don’t ever do long goodbyes. I want to say it: the L-word. So badly. But I don’t even dare think it, not when both of us believe it to be a jinx. “Good luck, Poe.” “Thanks, Bez. I’m gonna need it.” After a quick kiss he’s turning and climbing up into the X-wing. Then the cockpit closes, and the X-wing powers up. I get back as it vertically takes off, and I stand there until I can’t see it anymore. There’s something in the Force going off like a warning bell, but I’m not sure what it is. I do know, however, that I’m resisting the urge to get in the Slave and go with him. I hear the distinct jangling of Din’s armor and glance over to see him approaching with an air of worry. He puts an arm around my shoulders, and I let the tears fall. “You okay, kid?” “I’ve got a bad feeling about this...” “Don’t worry,” Din says, “He’s the best pilot we’ve got. Why do you think Leia’s sending him? He knows what he’s doing.” We both watch the place he disappeared for a bit before I go back to the medbay. Something’s off, and I need to keep moving so I can ignore it. But ignoring the Force, I’ve discovered, is pretty damn hard.

______________________________________________________________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*****************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! The epilogue and final part of The Heir of Djarin will post next Wednesday night. Anyone who wants to be tagged, just let me know!

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lovelessdagger · 1 year

Text

The Fall of the Jedi | Chapter Three: The Great Disillusionment

Pairing: Hunter x OFC

Rating: Mature

Summary: “Love is not willing, Odella. It happens without warning and without cause. It is intoxicating, it is…” Obi-Wan looks up, only for a moment. “It is the morning of springs first bloom."

Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

WARNINGS: Explicit Language. Anakin Typical Behavior

Words: 6.3K

Daybreak Masterlist | AO3 | Prev | Next

“They’re sending me to the AgriCorps,” Odella groans.

“You’re always so dramatic,” Anakin tells her, rolling his eyes.

They walk side by side, elbows linked, down the lavish and large halls of the Temple. The day is in that odd bit of time, indiscernible between too early or too late to be awake. Regardless, no human Youngling should be active at this hour, four past new day.

“I’m not dramatic, I’m correct.” She turns to him, grabbing his hands. “Promise you’ll visit me, and that you’ll tell me every adventure you go on.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the AgriCorps.” Though his manner of speaking tells that even he is unconvinced by his words. “You’ll be the best farmer in the Order.”

Their hold drops, and she marches on. “You’re so unbelievably unhelpful.”

“And you have plant magic, they’ll love you there. It could be worse, you could be made to work in the archives for all your life. Then you’ll turn into Master Nu.”

She giggles, elbow jabbing his arm. “I suppose there can’t be a fate worse than that.”

“You’re only twelve Del, you’ve got a whole year before they’d consider sending you away.”

“That’s easy for you to say. Obi-Wan has been your Master since you met him. Every day feels like a failed audition for me. No one likes me.”

“Master Vos likes you.”

“Master Vos still has Aayla, and if Obi-Wan says they won’t allow him to train both of us, they’re not going to make an exception for Quinlan. They’re only Knights, Ani. They have no power in the Council.”

“What’s so great about being a Knight if you can’t do anything on your own?” He huffs.

“Knights can do plenty on their own.” Anakin stares at her with a look that says like what, and she shrugs. “I dunno, choose their own hairstyle?”

He throws his head back laughing. “Have you seen what Obi-Wan is growing out? If that’s what a Knight chooses, I’ll join you in the Corps.”

They come to a window, the last in the corridor, spanning the height of the entire wall some feet off the ground. Odella climbs on the windowsill, Anakin sitting across. Stretched, his legs cross over and end at her thigh. He hasn’t stopped getting taller since the fall, and his voice cracks when he’s overly excited. She still hasn’t grown over five foot.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he says in a yawn. Wiping the remaining sleep from his eyes, he cleans his hand on her leg. “I bet they’re all intimidated by you.”

“What?”

“Well,” he cracks his knuckles, “Not everyone is cool enough to be friends with The Chosen One.”

Odella’s jaw drops, bright laughter cackling. “You did not just say that.”

He grins. “I’m not hearing that I’m wrong. They only haven’t realized how lame you really are.”

“And now I’m lame?”

“I’m sorry, do you have a prophecy? Didn’t think so.”

She sticks her tongue out, wagging her head. “There are like… a bajillion prophecies—“

“No there aren’t.”

“Whatever. I could have one too, it just… hasn’t been prophesied yet. Or, or no one knows it’s about me. I bet I have to be old when it happens, like… twenty two.”

Anakin cringes. “That’s ancient.”

“I know, but you’ll probably be ancient when the balance thing happens.”

His face morphs to a frown. “I don’t want to get old.”

“Me neither,” Odella sighs. “What if we’re not friends anymore?”

“Don’t say that. Of course we’ll still be friends, why wouldn’t we be?”

“What if I’m not meant to be a Jedi, and you forget all about me?”

“You will be a real Jedi.” He’s as firm as a fourteen year old can be. “And when we’re both Knights, we’ll do everything together.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Obi-Wan says I have to start going with him every time he’s assigned missions, and when you get a Master it’ll be the same. So we may not see each other as much, but when we’re Knights we can hang out whenever we want, wherever we want. And when we’re Masters, no one can tell us what to do. Not even the Council.”

Odella leans forward, wild eyed. “What if we’re on the Council?” She whispers.

Anakin grins. “Even better. I’ll be Grand Master, and you’ll be my assistant.”

“Why do you get to be Grand Master?”

“Because I’m older.”

“But I’m smarter.”

“Well I’m the Chosen One.”

Sunlight filters into the corridor, blinding. Their shadows build from incoming light, large on the ground.

“You know,” Anakin says. “It doesn’t matter what we are, I’d never forget about you. Even if you do end up on the AgriCorp, you’re still my sister. Nothing can change that. I promise.”

Odella nods, closing her eyes. There isn’t a universe to exist where she and Anakin aren’t bonded. She knows this with every fiber in her being. They’re best friends, the closest thing the other has to family.

Anakin Skywalker and Odella Thoren can and will never be without the other.

She’s sure of it.

“Hello again Odella,” Jocasta Nu says, peeking into one of the aisles of the Temple archive. She looks up at the shelf being examined, then to the Jedi. “Prophecies?” She asks. “Have you grown tired of Mandalore?”

“Hello Master,” Odella says, barely a glance over her shoulder. “No, I’ve just… decided to try something new today.” She tightens her robes, pushing fallen hair from her face. She holds a pile of records in her arms, and pulls off the top one. “Are you familiar?”

“Of course—” she nods, taking the tablet, “—the kyber that is not kyber,” she muses. “Master Jinn told me once that this one had come true when he were off world with Master Kenobi. What a pair they were.”

“So I’ve heard,” Odella says. In haste, she returns all but one record to their proper location. “What of this one? She who will be born to darkness will give birth to darkness. I’ve not heard of Sith having children.”

Jocasta then takes this once, squinting to read its textual display. “Have you considered,” she says. “That it may not be literal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just as you’ve said. Sith were not known to have children. The old prophets were keen on being metaphorical. What are the tenants of the dark side?”

Odella shrugs. “Power, anger, fear, aggression, greed, envy.”

“Someone may be born of these things and not necessarily be Sith. A family of anger. Of greed. Agression. She will birth one who will continue these traits.”

“So is it a warning? Of cyclical abuse?”

“Perhaps. Or that these traits are innate, and cannot be helped.”

Odella frowns. “Like an infection of bloodline?”

“It is possible.”

“Does the Force will people to be in the dark?”

“No child, but as Master Yoda says: The dark will forever dominate destiny.”

“That is for those who choose. If a child is born to it, that is not her choice. Nor the choice of her child.”

“But it may be the choice of the child to return to or remain in the darkness, to have comfort in it.”

“I see.”

Jocasta motions Odella to her side, pointing down the written language. “Look here. This darkness will arrive before the light, which will reveal after other dies.”

“So the child will die?”

“Or the child itself brings the light. Or, it is possible there is no child at all, and that it is merely the Force personified.”

“How confusing.”

“Prophecies always are,” Jocasta chuckles. “Have you anymore questions?”

“Yes,” Odella nods, “Actually. Do you happen to know where Anakin’s prophecy is? I thought it would be in this section… but I couldn’t find it and ultimately got distracted.”

“Ah, the Chosen One. Further down on the left, third shelf from the ground.”

“Thank you,” Odella says, heading over. She kneels and collects the record, blowing off dust. “Have you been well? The attack gave everyone a fright.”

Jocasta smiles close lipped, a short nod. “We are still standing,” she says. “That is where importance lays now.”

“Yes,” Odella agrees in a mutter.

“You have been quite the busy body throughout all of this from what I hear.”

“Is it?” She asks, turning fully.

Jocasta nods. “It isn’t every day a Jedi finds it in herself to say no to Master Windu.”

“Ah, well… Perhaps more Jedi should,” she says. “It might finally do some good around here if the Council listened, whether they want to or not.”

“You still have so much to learn,” Jocasta chuckles. “I realize you have had your difficulties with the Council, but I am unsure if publicly disagreeing with your old Master is the way to go.”

“Countless of civilians could have died today if I did not act as I did. And now that it is over, Jedi are already stationed for relief efforts. If that is the reason I receive repercussion for saying no to Master Windu, so be it.”

“You are a bold reproduction of your late Master,” Jocasta muses. “Her defiance of the Council did not go unnoticed either. Or, unchecked.”

Odella twitches, biting her tongue for only a moment when she stands. “Master Nu, with all due respect—“

“Ah, Odella. There you are,” says Obi-Wan, stepping into the aisle. He bows to Jocasta, a tight smile on him. “Master Nu.”

“Master Kenobi,” Jocasta says, as full of a grin as she can. “Oh congratulations on a successful mission. The Separatists will never again think of attacking Coruscant.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan nods, “that is the hope. Master Nu, if you don’t mind I would like a word with Miss Thoren in private.”

“Oh certainly.” Jocasta nods, moving to the side. “You let me know if there is anything I can do for you, Obi-Wan. The Republic owes you her thanks.” She pauses, a short sigh to follow. “Qui-Gon Jinn would be so very proud of you.”

Obi-Wan coughs, nodding shortly. “Yes, thank you.”

She leaves without grander exit, toddling with mumblings of how great this will all look in her histories.

“Hello Odella,” Obi-Wan then says, turned to the young Jedi.

“Master Kenobi,” she greets, peering just past him. “Have you come to deliver me to the Council for a reprimand?”

“No,” he chuckles. “Though I was privy to an earful from Mace of the encounter.”

“Ah.”

“He is proud of you, Odella. It takes a certain kind of Jedi to see more than the Council. Although your time together was short, I find that he believes you to be his greatest achievement of a Padawan. Though I also find that Master Nu is correct in her assessment that you are far more a reflection of Elenia. She would have done exactly as you did today. She would be the most proud of you out of all.”

“Does it ever get easier?” Odella asks, quiet. “Not having them around?”

Obi-Wan sighs. “I wish I could say it does. There isn’t a day where I don’t wish Qui-Gon were here. But there is comfort in knowing he is at peace in the Force.”

“Did Qui-Gon miss Dooku?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan nods, “He never spoke of it, but when he looked for guidance, it was always to the Count. But Dooku was alive then, and the circumstances were different.”

“Was alive?” Odella asks.

He nods again, slow. “Anakin killed him today,” he says, quiet, a little rumbly in his chest. “While rescuing the Chancellor.”

“What?”

“Quiet, please,” Obi-Wan urges. “No one is to know yet. Not until the Chancellor makes his announcement of this victory.”

“Victory?” Odella presses. “There is information only Dooku holds about the workings of this war. Information I have been shipped to Separatist planets in order to try and retrieve. Of Sidious. Maul. Grievous. Bringing him alive, having him stand trial and admit to the galaxy his crimes, not risking sympathizers. That would be a true victory.”

“Odella,” he hushes. “I agree, but this was a battle Anakin fought on his own. He may not have had a choice.”

“Where were you during this?”

“Unfortunately, incapacitated.”

“Oh,” she frowns, “where is Anakin?”

“At the Senate, being the poster boy they all want him to be.”

“The Senate?”

“Yes.”

“With—“

“Most likely.”

Odella falters, biting her lip. “He isn’t coming tonight, is he?”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“Of course,” she sighs tucking the tablet under her arm. “I was hoping I could see him before tomorrow’s lesson.”

“What lesson?”

“That ‘important mission’ Master Yoda had for me? I’ve been made an official instructor for current affairs and basic lightsaber dueling technique. I figured a lesson on the two of you would be a nice topical break.” Her eyes roll. “No one trusts me, still.”

“Odella—”

“It’s not my fault Quinlan fell, I shouldn’t be punished for it.”

“It is a great honor to your intelligence that Master Yoda sees you fit to be a permanent instructor.”

“I’m not a teacher, Obi-Wan.”

“You spend all your days in here,” he says, motioning around. “Studying. You and Anakin would sneak into Knight training sessions as Younglings so that you could learn technique. You are constantly speaking of and researching issues others face. At your heart you are a scholar, Odella. The whole Council sees it. Master Yoda has given you a platform within the Temple to share your passion. This should be a very exciting time for you, it takes years for most Masters to prove themselves worthy permeant placing in one position. Let alone two.”

“I’m a spy, Obi-Wan. A fighter, and a very good one if necessary—“

“You are a Jedi,” he interrupts. “You are a peacekeeper, not a warrior. When the war ends you will need to find your way outside of battle. Many of your peers will struggle just as you do, but you have been given a new purpose. Not all will be able to say that.”

Odella frowns, chewing her lip until skin breaks. “Do you know what Anakin will do?”

Obi-Wan mimics her, twirling the hair of his mustache. “I have my theories, but he has not said.”

The younger Jedi sighs, making her way into the larger commons of the library where Obi-Wan follows. “When we were younger we said whatever we would do we’d do together.” The statement is followed by a soft laugh, head shaking. “Now I’m lucky if I hear from him at all. It’s very strange.”

“Have you not been keeping in contact?”

Her head shakes. “No, I haven’t talked to him since I left.”

“Really? I was certain it was you he would speak to at least a third of the time he ran off to make a call.”

Odella’s face morphs to a tight smile, nose scrunching. “I can’t believe you allow it,” she mumbles. “Especially after what happened to Quinlan. It changed my perspective, certainly. I’ve always wondered why it never changed yours.”

Obi-Wan pauses in his step, breathing out withheld tension. “I’d like to show you something,” he says, walking ahead. “Please, follow me.”

“I don’t see the point in this,” Odella says, sat in Obi-Wan’s room.

She set down a piece of Mandalorian armor, painted red and black onto his desk. It joins a collection of other trinkets Obi-Wan presented to her from a wooden box stashed under his bed.

“Is it a necessary trait in all the Jedi I find respectable to—to break code? To form these attachments which only serve to hurt?” She asks. “In passing once, Quinlan mentioned your… connection to the late Duchess, I hadn’t thought… Well, you never struck me as one willing to fall in love.”

Obi-Wan scoffs in amusement, lips pursed.

“What is it?” Odella asks.

“Nothing.”

“Well you were, were you not? In love.”

“Yes,” he nods, “I was. I still am.” From the desk he grabs a thin piece of twine, twisted with the emblem of a lily of metal hanging at the end. A necklace of a sort. “Although I would not say it was willing. I detested the Duchess when we met. And her I.”

Odella frowns, following how it catches the light.

“Love is not willing, Odella. It happens without warning and without cause. It is intoxicating, it is…” He looks up, only for a moment. “It is the morning of springs first bloom. It is the greatest form the Force may take. It may even be greater than the Force.”

“How can something be greater than the Force?”

“Should you ever know it,” Obi-Wan says. “You will learn.”

The pendant settles in the palm of his hand, fist wrapping around.

“If it ultimately hurt you,” Odella says, soft. “How do you not regret it? Master Yoda says pain leads to the dark side. I can’t imagine the pain you held was not tempting.”

“It was,” he admits. “However, I find that I would much rather live this one life knowing her, than a million others without. I would be a fool if I could ever regret Satine Kryze.”

Obi-Wan moves his mouth as though dehydrated. Like the name were as new to him as it were years ago. Odella suspects it is the first he’s said it in quite some time.

“Is this how Quinlan felt? Feels,” she corrects. “About Ventress?”

Obi-Wan nods. “It is.”

“I see.”

“Odella,” Obi-Wan says. “Trust I understand your concerns with Anakin. I myself have spent many a night wondering if my lack of action is appropriate… but who am I to deny Anakin of his spring, if Qui-Gon did not deny me of mine?”

Odella nods, slowly standing. “I think I understand.”

To a displayed hand Obi-Wan settles the pendant inside. Her fingers wrap around it, delicately tracing metal. Capturing memory.

“I only worry for him, Padmè as well. She is my Senator after all, and my friend. I’ve found a disturbing pattern resulting in Jedi who love. I will pray it does not come true for them.”

She walks behind Obi-Wan, drapping the necklace around him.

“And Anakin loves with the whole of himself,” she adds. “He makes many promises he cannot keep.”

Obi-Wan looks over his shoulder. “Should the need for intervention arise, I will be the first.”

She leans over him, arms wrapped around his front. She stares out the window, admiring the skyline of their city. “Do you think it will happen to me?” She asks, quietly. “I feel now that I may not be fit for it.”

He offers a soft smile, and nods. “If it is the will of the Force,” he says. “Then it will be.”

“Younglings!” Odella calls, late into the day. She claps her hands to silence a chattering room. “Your focus, please. I realize much happened this morning, but your attention is to be on the present.”

A human girl standing in the middle raises her hand, the other holding her lightsaber, a new creation from Illum. “What did happen, Master Thoren?”

“No one tells us anything,” a boy says, growled in Shyriiwook.

“If you would all settle down I should be inclined to tell you.” Her remarks are with constant wit, and she sits lazy and draped across her chair. “Although really I should only be inclined if you do your practices as I’ve instructed.”

She hardly glances from her datapad, scrolling through research of Mandalorian armor. It must have taken decades to develop the alloy to defend against a lightsaber. She thinks Obi-Wan may let her hold it again, for proper study of material.

She’ll be sure to ask before the day is done.

“Drawing shapes is boring,” an Ithroian child complains through her vocoder. “We want to duel!”

“Nurti,” Odella says, tapping a control panel to her left. In front of the children a blank holographic screen appears. “Draw a square.”

She attempts as much, her green blade humming into the blue. The result is a squiggle of lines, vaguely connected.

“That’s a rectangle,” Odella tells the class, peeking over. “A square is equal on all sides.”

“I know what a square is,” Nurti mumbles, hotly embarrassed.

“Then why could you not draw it? Class?”

The Wookie boy raises his hand now. “She was shaking.”

“Yes,” Odella agrees. “Why was she shaking?”

“She’s nervous?” A female Twi’lek suggests.

“Maybe. Why else?”

“She held her saber with one hand,” another Initiate calls.

“No… I could draw it with one hand,” Odella says. “Anyone else? Nurti, how did the saber feel in your hand?”

“Heavy,” she says.

“Does anyone have an idea why it was heavy?”

The class is silent until a second human girl shuffles in the back. “She was trying too hard.”

Odella sits with a start, nodding. “Exactly.” She stands, resetting the holo. “What does Master Yoda say?”

“Do or do not,” the class says in unison.

“There is no try,” Odella finishes. From her hip she ignites one of her sabers, purple glowing the room. “We either make a square—“ as she speaks, she lifts her saber, drawing a perfect square. “Or we do not.” The purple disappears as quickly as it came. “We either win a duel and live, or we do not. Your lightsaber is an extension of yourself, not a tool. If it is heavy, you are not connected to your crystal and so you are not connected to yourself. It chose you as much as you chose it. You are meant to be one.”

She looks to Nurti, motioning to the board.

“Your focus was on proving me wrong instead of proving yourself right. Go again, but act for the benefit of yourself. Reach through the Force and into your crystal. Envision the square in your mind. Draw when you are ready, not a moment before.”

Nurti raises her saber again, taking a breath. With both hands on her hilt, her eyes fall shut. Slowly, she raises her plasma until it touches the holo, drawing in a single breath.

“Perfect,” Odella says. “Now a circle.”

So she does.

“Disengage.”

And the green disappears.

Nurti opens her eyes to her shapes, a grin overtaking. “I did it!”

Odella nods, pacing the room. “You would all like to fight,” she says. “I understand the excitement of the prospect, I too spent my days watching the Knights and Masters in awe. But these are not the wooden staffs you may have used with Yoda. They are weapons. They can and will hurt you and your peers. Until you have bonded with your crystal, taken the time to master precision and control, none of you will be ready to duel.”

“Yes Master Thoren,” they all say in unison.

The sound of a wind chime enters the room, perking all ears.

“Class dismissed,” Odella says. “Your assignment is to spend an hour in mediation with your saber. Tomorrow, I want you all to speak of what you’ve learned. Your emotions, the feeling of the Force, anything you find notable.” Her hands wave, shooing them all to the door. “Tumj and Bhrian if I hear you’ve been practicing unsupervised again I’m confiscating your sabers. Go, all of you.”

The group leaves in giggles and scattered goodbyes, funneling out one by one.

“Maker help us all,” Odella groans, alone. “You’re a scholar, Odella,” she mocks in Obi-Wans voice. “Why wouldn’t you want to be a teacher? It’s almost as good as being a farmer.“

“I would argue it’s a bit better than farmer,” a voice interrupts from the doorway, making her jump. “At least here you’re not covered in dirt.”

“Anakin!”

Unable to help herself, Odella sprints to her friend. He lifts her in a spin, laughing.

“Maker your hair!” She gasps, looking up. “This is what a Knight chooses?”

“I forgot to pack the Temple barber before I was shipped away for over half the year,” he snorts, shaking it out. “My deepest apologies.”

“You look like shit.”

“Says you.”

They grin.

“Obi-Wan said you wouldn’t be here tonight.”

He shrugs. “Well, the war isn’t exactly over yet, and I did promise not to come back until it was.”

She slaps his arm. “Congratulations on your survival by the way. Not that I had doubt, but the odds were slim.”

“I think not dying was also a part of that agreement.”

Her eyes roll. “I’d say it’s good to see the Outer Rim hasn’t completely stripped away your charming personality, but I’d be lying. You’ve managed to come back even more annoying than before.” She takes a moment to stare at him, and squints. “What?”

“What?” He repeats, smile never leaving.

“You’re acting weird. What is it?”

Anakin shrugs, walking around the room. “I can’t be happy to see my favorite Jedi?”

Odella gasps, quick to follow. “Oh something is definitely up. Spill.”

“It’s nothing,” he laughs. “It’s good to be back is all.”

“Mm.”

“And,” he turns, “I missed you.”

“Mhm.”

“I did!” he defends. “We haven’t gone this long without speaking since… ever.”

“I know.”

His gaze narrows. “You’re seeing right through this aren’t you?”

“Obviously.”

His sigh is passive, rolling his eyes. “You’re not going to drop it.”

“Not a chance. Spill.”

His eyes scan the room, leaning to her level. “I have just learned, the best news,” he whispers.

“What?” Odella mimics in tone.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Right, so why can’t you tell me?”

“That’s how secrets work.”

“Since when do we keep secrets?”

“Since when are you and Obi-Wan hanging out willingly?”

Her jaw drops. “Do you keep tabs on every male bedroom I enter?”

“When they’re my Master or my men? Yes.”

“Oh, speaking of. Did Jesse come back with you?”

“Del,” he groans.

“Simmer down. He’s never been in the Temple and I promised him a tour.”

“Of what? Your bedroom?”

“Anakin!”

“I told you not to get involved with the clones.”

“And I told you to trust me. If you’re so concerned you can chaperon you underdeveloped nut.”

“Jesse went to Mandalore with Ahsoka,” Anakin says. “Along with Rex and the rest of the team. I’m not sure how long they’ll be there.”

“Oh Ahsoka!” Odella grins. “You’ll have to tell me everything. How is she? Obi-Wan said she’s not officially back yet, but what do you think? I miss having another girl around with all you brutes.”

He looks around again, bright eyed, as if harboring another great secret. “She’ll come back,” he says. “She was… apprehensive, when we met again, but I blame nerves. After Maul is defeated she’ll remember how much she loves it here, loves being one of us. She’ll be back by the end of the week, I’m sure of it.”

“And if she isn’t?”

“Don’t say that. Of course she’ll be. She has to be. The Order is her life, she’s only forgotten.”

“Anakin—“ Odella sighs.

A second chime enters the room, causing a flinch.

“Shit,” Odella swears. Running to the chair she collects the forgotten data pad, and unloads the holo. “I’m late, I have to go. Will you still be around later?”

“I might be,” Anakin says. “Where are you going?”

“I have another class, other side of the Temple. Maker, if I wasn’t going to get expelled before, I will be now.“

“Expelled?”

“It’s a long story,” she breathes, jogging up to him. “I told Mace to fuck off.”

“You did what?”

“I’m being facetious. Kind of. If you haven’t heard already, I’m sure you will.”

“Del—“

“If you’re still here, meet me after supper hour,” she calls, out the door. “I’ll tell you all about it, and you can tell me what this great big secret you have is.”

“Del I can’t—” Anakin calls back.

“Later!”

“Would you believe me if I said they’re deficiently sending me to the AgriCorps this time?” Odella asks, walking down a corridor of the Temple.

At the end of its hall stands Anakin, leaned by the windowsill, staring at the setting sun.

“After you’ve managed your way out twice? Not a chance.”

“Third time is the charm,” she says, reaching the end. “Maybe the Force wills me to be a farmer, and I’ve been doing a disservice by denying myself of my apparent destiny.”

“If your destiny is farming then the Force really does need balance, doesn’t it?” His smile is cheeky, arms crossed over his chest. “I guess I should get to work on that some time soon. Save you from the misery.”

Odella shrugs, jumping on the ledge, sitting. “There’s a war going on,” she says. “Priority wise, my comfort in the Order should not be high on your list.”

“Are you not?” He asks, softer in tone. “Comfortable that is.”

Her first response is a sigh, head leaned against the wooden frame and cool glass. “When we were younger we had all these ideas about what being a Jedi would be like, and I don’t know if it’s the war or… me, but I don’t know. Reality is hard to match to expectations.”

“What did you expect?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know. I’ve spent my whole life here, and I don’t know what I thought would happen,” she laughs, almost empty. “Master Yoda says my first word was his name. I used to…” she points down the corridor. “He taught me how to walk in these halls.”

“He did?”

Odella nods, a timid smile. “It’s not rare for children to come here as infants, but… Yoda says my umbilical cord was still attached when I came. He never sees human babies that young, so I guess he took a liking.”

“I never knew he was like a father to you,” Anakin says. “Is that how you get away with all that you do?”

“No,” Odella laughs. “Not at all. If anything it’s given him higher expectations of me. It’s why I’m so—“ she waves her hand, flippant. “Out of every sentient in the Order, I’ve always cared for his opinion the most. I figured he’d tell me if he were cross, so I can get in as much trouble as I want. And I did. Still do. As long as I don’t disappoint Yoda I don’t really care.”

“Huh.”

“And now I’ve been thinking… he doesn’t tell me when he is disappointed for the same reasons. So I wonder how deeply I have indeed disappointed him after all these years.”

Anakin morphs to a frown, facing her directly. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I am a failure of a Jedi,” Odella groans.

“You’re a great Jedi.”

“Do you know how many Masters I knew as a toddler? How many of our Masters quite literally watched me grow up from a newborn? And none of them thought of taking me as a Padawan. And after Elenia passed and I hadn’t finished my training… No one wanted me still. I actually hoped Yoda would take me, I used to dream about being his Padawan. And out of nowhere Mace Windu is arguing on my behalf.” She bites her lip, eyes narrowing. “We were Knighted at the same ceremony Ani… I don’t think he thought I was ready. I don’t think I thought I was ready. But they were expediting promotions and I was already so far into my training.”

“Odella,” Anakin says. “The Council makes many mistakes, you are not one of them.”

“They do not trust me.”

“They don’t trust me either. They never have. From the moment I entered the Temple, the Council has had nothing but distaste for me. If I didn’t have this damned prophecy pinned to me, they wouldn’t take me at all. Hell, if Qui-Gon never died I wouldn’t be here. None of them want me here, after everything I’ve done and still do. I promise it is not you who is flawed, it is the Council.”

“I don’t know Ani—“

“The Council allowed Obi-Wan to fake his death. They are the reason Ahsoka left. They are the reason Quinlan was trapped into working with Ventress. Every major flaw of the Order is due to the Council’s arrogance. If they do not trust you it is because they refuse change. Good, necessary change I know you could bring.”

Odella sighs, nodding her head in thought. “The war has changed a great many deal of things. At times I wonder if… If I am supposed to be a Jedi at all. If all these obstacles… the farming, the teaching, not being wanted as a Padawan… What if it is the Force telling me I’m doing the wrong thing here?”

“You were made a Knight because you are meant to be a Knight,” Anakin says. “The way I see it, the Force has carried you through these challenges because it is where you are supposed to be. You can’t leave the Order. I won’t allow it. I won’t. It’s a horrible thought for you to even have.”

For a second, and it is only a second for if were any longer Odella might find it in herself to call concern, Anakin darkens. His voice drops, and his jaw tightens. He stares at her with such brief intensity she finds that all her prior thoughts leave her.

Anakin is not so much objecting to her leaving the Order, as it is an objection to her leaving him, she realizes. After so many have before, she can’t say it’s all that unreasonable.

She doesn’t know how to describe the dash of cold that it comes with the fist that grows at his side.

So she will not try.

Odella nods, shaking out her arms. “You’re right,” she says. “I’m being dramatic.”

“You are,” he agrees. “You’re tired, and much has happened. With Dooku dead, as soon as we locate Grievous the war will be over. Then everything will be normal. You won’t have these thoughts anymore.”

She doesn’t say how she doesn’t know what normal is anymore.

“Yes. It will be.”

“I think I’ll be made Master by then,” Anakin says. “When I am on the Council I will argue for all the changes you wish to make. I’ll see to it they are done. I promise.”

Odella only nods.

Anakin sits across from her, knees bent as her legs stretch. “I swear to you Odella. I’ll make sure you are made Master too, and on the Council alongside me. We’ll be unstoppable.”

“What was that secret you had?” Odella asks instead. “The one you can’t tell me.”

On a dime his mood changes, wrinkles between his pinched brows disappeared. A smile in its place. “You’ll find out soon,” he says. “It’s the best news I’ve heard in my whole life. It will be the best of yours as well.”

Her head tilts. “What is it?”

“A blessing.”

Her eyes roll. “Fine, keep your secrets. Whatever it is, if you have no worry of them what so ever, I offer my preemptive congratulations.”

“Can I ask you something?” Anakin asks. His smile drops, just slightly, and he chews on the inside of his cheek. “Because I do have one worry. I… It’ll sound silly, but I want you to answer honestly.”

Odella reflects his concern, and nods. “Of course. What is it?”

“What did I do wrong with Ahsoka?”

“What?”

“If I had done things right she would have stayed. I could’ve made her. What did I do wrong? You were friends, did she tell you if she was disappointed or unhappy being my Padawan?”

“She complained of you the way any Padawan complains of their Master. Anakin, Ahsoka loves you. You said so yourself, the decision of the Council is what drove her away.”

“And my lack of dedication prevented her from coming back.”

“Ani—“

“Odella. Tell me. How did I fuck up? Tell me how I can change so it does not happen again. I will be better. Stronger. More loyal if I have to.”

She takes a moment, sat in thought. It strikes her as a plasma bolt. He’s taking another Padawan.

“Ani you took care of Ahsoka the best way you could. She’s an excellent duelist, she’s intelligent, she’s determined.”

“Then how could she leave?”

“Because she is intelligent and she is determined. She understood her poor treatment and acted to better her life. You should be proud of her.”

“I am.”

“Then what is the issue?”

“I couldn’t take care of her. I couldn’t protect her. Not the way she should have been.”

“Anakin,” Odella says. “Whatever will happen to you, it will all work out the way it is meant to. You are the Chosen One, it will be for the best.”

“What if I mess up again?” He whispers.

She reaches over their legs, grabbing his metal hand. “Let’s say somehow, a child came into my care, as one may… come into yours. If something were to happen to me, you are the only person in the entire galaxy I would trust with their wellbeing.”

His nod is short, firm and sure of itself. He grabs her other hand. “I would do everything in my power to provide for them,” he says. “I would do right by you Odella. I promise.”

“I know, Ani,” she says. “I know.”

Anakin leaves some minutes or hours later, walked by her with their elbows linked. He never did stop being obnoxiously tall. He tells her he will return by the morning to speak to her class, and promises to bring the puffed pastries she enjoys.

He never says they’re a recipe Padmè makes from Naboo, but she never questions their origin.

Inside her room, alone again and at last with a break of excitement, Odella flops on her bed.

Dooku is dead, she thinks. The war will be over soon.

She tucks herself into bed, staring out her window to the night skyline.

She doesn’t know what will come then, or what will become of her. But she’s inclined to take Anakin’s stern optimism to save her from thought.

Still, she can’t help but wonder if Anakin keeps a book of his promises. And how he intends to keep them all.

Next: SUPPLEMENTAL DATA I

#the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars fanfic #Hunter x OC #Hunter x OFC #sergeant hunter x oc #Daybreak #Odella Thoren #Hunter X Orignal Character #Hunter x Original Female Character #Hunter TBB #TBB #TBB Fanfic #Anakin Skywalker #Anakin fanfic #anakin fanfiction

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owkse · 2 years

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Obi Wan Kenobi ~ The Dark Side

Chapter 24

Chapter 23

Pain, deep, deep darkness.

You don’t recall how you got here. At least not immediately. One minute you were at the temple using R2-D2 to deactivate the droids, and the next you were facing down Sith Lords in order to protect the temple and its inhabitants after the failure of order sixty six. You do remember before engaging in a battle, the recall of all Jedi to the temple, but everything was so foggy.

Speaking about foggy. You looked around finding nothing but grey smog, blanketing around you. As you stood or floated you have no idea which, it was then you heard a voice.

‘Y/N’ it whispered.

‘Who are you?’ You called almost childishly.

‘Come to me, you’ll see’ came its reply.

You stepped hesitantly, expecting to fall, when you didn’t you followed to where the voice was. Reaching a clearing in the greyness, you were met with a women who looked very much like you.

‘Hello Y/N’ smiled the women.

‘Who are you?’ You asked tilting your head.

‘Have a guess’ smiled the women, spreading her arms in invitation.

‘You’re my Mother aren’t you’ you whispered.

‘I am, my names Tialvo, but you may call me Tia, I’m so very proud of you, you’ve become an extraordinary Jedi, and a Jedi Master at that’ smiled Tia.

‘Am I dead?’ You asked knowing your Mother died during childbirth.

‘No, you are somewhat at a divergence’ smiled Tia still.

‘I don’t understand’ you whispered.

‘You have a choice to make, become one with the force or continue to progress the Jedi Order further’ said Tia.

‘But why me? Anakin is the chosen one right? He’s supposed to bring balance to the force’ you said.

‘You know now he needs guidance’ said Tia cryptically.

‘I don’t, I… I can’t remember how I got here’ you said panicked.

‘Shh, calm yourself, you do know, follow me’ whispered Tia, holding out her hand.

Slipping your hand into hers you followed her into the force, watching the events that had unfolded before.

You walked with the remaining Jedi Council members to face the, two hooded figures. You gasped when you saw Anakin remove his hood along with Palpatine. The guards remained behind you keeping the order back just in case of an impending attack.

‘You’re not welcome here Sith, leave now and we will spare your lives’ said Windu.

‘We are not scared, you underestimate our power’ snarled Anakin.

‘Anakin, you know ultimate power isn’t the way to go’ called Secura.

‘You know nothing of the power I speak, it’s to protect Padme’ said Anakin.

‘No power is worth the destruction of innocent lives’ said Kit Fitso.

Everyone was so unsure of how to approach the two, Anakin was one yours. At least he was.

‘Who was the clever little Jedi who figured it all out?’ Asked Palpatine, a sense of something sinister surrounding his words.

‘Me’ you said stepping forward, ignoring Windus warning through the force.

‘Well, well, clever little girl… you really are a treasure, you would do well as my apprentice, all you have to do is say yes, and the one you love the most would be safe forever’ smiled Palpatine.

‘Is that what he promised you Anakin, Padme’s life… you know she would die of heartbreak knowing what you are’ you said turning to the man.

‘I would have given her peace in the new Empire, you took that away’ hissed Anakin.

‘You know I didn’t, I’ve protected the only family I know, yes they’re flawed but they learn with each mistake and evolve, can you really say that about the Sith?’ You pleaded.

‘The Jedi never once appreciated me and my power, but you they always defer to you, you took my place on the council, you’ve become a master, you just take and take’ hissed Anakin spitting now.

‘Anakin think of Padme, think of your mother’ you pleaded again.

That turned out to be the worst thing you could have said, next thing you knew Anakin was shooting powerful electrical charges not only at you but the Jedi order. Without thought you channelled the force as the Jedi behind you dropped to the floor, in an attempt to shield themselves.

‘Such power’ whispered Palpatine delighted as you absorbed the power into your palm.

‘Join us, and we will make you great’ cackled Palapatine.

‘Never’ you said standing strong despite the effort you just put into channelling the force the way you did.

‘Then we must eradicate the threat’ hissed Palpatine producing his blade in sync with Anakin.

Suddenly you found yourself stuck in a force dome with the two Sith. You cursed yourself for missing the device, but you had no time to dwell. Drawing your own sabre, the orange colour lighting your face, you began to duel the two.

You danced around the two, anticipating their moves with grace, using a defensive fighting style to conserve your energy. But you were beginning to tire. And so was you concentration, a few fairly deep knicks had you staggering. Your thoughts strolled to Obi Wan, and that gave you the strength to fight on.

‘Your precious Obi Wan will to late, he’ll cradle your corpse and then only then will I kill him’ hissed Anakin.

You forced pushed him at that, changing to more fierce fighting style.

‘There it is, use the anger, let it channel through you’ hissed Palpatine pleased with your reaction.

That made you stagger back, now on the defensive, your steps faltering. You were losing focus, and it only got worse, upon the sensation of a familiar person entering the planet, did you receive a devastating blow to your shoulder blade making you drop to your knees.

You could sense the pain from the order watching you fall, you could feel Obi Wan, begging you to hold on. You knew he wouldn’t make it, you did what you could, you fought and fought, rolling taking more cuts as your movements became sluggish. With one final act you threw your lightsaber, cutting Anakin as it traveled destroying the force dome generator.

However, upon that heroic act, a red sabre plunged into your stomach. You collapsed, looking up, seeing several star fighters travelling down, unable to see its occupants, everything went dark.

‘Oh’ you said when you couldn’t see what happened after, your hand subconsciously rubbing your stomach.

‘You were truly brave’ said Tia.

‘What do I do now? The Sith is gone surely’ you said.

‘Yes the order made sure of that, Skywalker is locked up awaiting trial’ said Tia gravely.

‘Oh’ you said disappointed.

‘You expect more from them?’ Asked Tia.

‘I… yes, I fear that Anakin has reaffirmed their belief that attachment leads to the dark side’ you said.

‘Hmm then I think you have your answer, anyway someone’s been very keen for you to wake up’ smiled Tia.

‘What about you? I don’t want you to be alone’ you said sadly, Tia stroking the side of your face tucking some hair behind your ear.

‘I’m with the force, so I’m with you, always’ said Tia placing her hand over your heart.

‘Goodbye… Mum’ you said watching the women move into the fog.

‘Goodbye my love’

You suddenly found yourself falling, pain beginning to riddle through your body. With a gasp you landed, opening your eyes you blinked staring at the bright white ceiling in the Hall of Healing. Feeling a warm weight on your hand, you tilted your head to the side, looking into a set of warm, worried, stormy eyes.

‘Hello there’

Chapter 25

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #star wars #obi wan #jedi #jedi temple #star wars imagine #master yoda #yoda #Sith #anakin skywalker #palpatine

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deniigi · 3 years

Text

Please have some Skywalker Babies + Uncle Rex.

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Title: skittles

Summary: Padme dies, but Anakin doesn't turn and as a result ends up with two little ones who are, naturally, adopted by the 501st--well, Leia is. Luke keeps getting stolen by a filthy thief.

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Rex has the twins for now. He has never felt terror like this before. He can’t stop checking over his shoulders for threats to their teeny tiny persons.

In his humble opinion, it should be illegal for humans to be born this small. He ran it past Ahsoka recently and she agreed, but she also provided intelligence that the twins’ size was not necessarily average for their species, either.

The other brothers helped him investigate this. They all gathered round and put the holonet searches on the projector so that they didn’t have to smash buckets over a datapad screen to be educated. Their search for ‘newborn natborn human baby’ was rewarded with images upon images of reddened tubies with big, round bellies and curled up limbs.

They did a new search for ‘2 weeks, natborn human baby’ and were rewarded with even more pictures, to which they held the twins up next to and found them wanting. The twins’ proportions were all wrong, their limbs were too skinny, their faces pinched. The babies on the holonet didn’t have hair, but their baby girl did.

The conclusion was that the research was inconclusive. Further, it was interrupted by the resident thief coming in to take his chances. Cody told them later, upon returning their baby boy, that they were better than this. Kenobi wasn’t slick. They needed to stop letting their guards now.

He said all this while ignoring the way the baby boy burrowed into the side of his throat and made smacking noises.

Such a strong man, that Cody. He is, unfortunately, not available now even though Rex has both twins and a heart attack waiting to happen.

The Thief is nearby. Rex can sense him. He heads back the way he came.

The baby girl, who has a name, but Anakin is too heartbroken to speak it, fists her hands at Rex and shakes them as if to threaten him into compliance. He does not know how to help her understand that he has not taken the blanket off her face out of malice, but rather to keep her from suffocating. She is angry with him regardless. She is often angry with him and endlessly crying when he does not put her exactly where she wants to be exactly when she wants it.

The thief calls her a princess, and so everyone else has started doing the same in lieu of her name. The child is bound to grow up thinking her name itself is ‘Princess’ at this rate. Ahsoka has been trying out different titles for her, but she doesn’t respond to them in the same way.

For all that the princess is royalty through and through, the baby boy is thoroughly a commoner. Catching him awake is a miracle. Part of that is because his waking hours are spent with the Thief, since Kenobi has decided, for some mysterious reason, that this child is his favorite of all in existence. He will not be separated from this child and when he is, he gets crafty in his attempts to get him back.

The princess does not like Kenobi. At all, period. He touches her and she screams and reaches her stubby hands for Rex. If Rex is not available to be screamed for, she will wail until her father comes to stuff her in his tunic.

Anakin is fine to hold the princess, but he cannot look upon the baby boy, even to feed him. He looks so much like his mother. It is a struggle for everyone—except Kenobi. Rex wonders aloud to Ahsoka if Kenobi will raise the boy on his own and a moment of silence fills the canteen.

Ahsoka throws herself from the room and goes sprinting for the masters’ quarters.

The twins are tested for Force Sensitivity and it becomes abundantly clear why Kenobi continues hoard the baby boy against all sense and wisdom. He is described by the jedi as a ‘sun’ in the Force. The princess too, but her presence in the Force blends in with her father’s until she is gazed upon in Rex’s Force-empty grip.

Only then is she, too, declared a star.

Twin stars, they are called.

‘Kenobi, put that down,’ the boy is named. ‘Kenobi, give that back,’ is his middle one.

The first time Rex sees the baby boy awake, he is startled by how blue his eyes are. His sister’s are dark, but his are light like water at the base of a waterfall. He makes a little sound and turns his heavy head to the side to blink at Rex’s forearm.

He is the older of the two, but the Princess is already overtaking him in weight. Kenobi has been scolded for this. In return, he locks everyone out of his quarters.

The twins are two months old when they stop being blinky-maggots and turn into smiley ones. Anakin cannot put the princess down or she will scream until she is blue in the face. As such their dedicated General can be found with his arms full, slowly banging his head against the nearest hard object.

He calls her ‘Leia.’ Princess Leia.

The baby boy is ‘Luke.’ Just Luke.

Anakin spends his time these days bouncing Leia and on the hunt for his son. He walks like a zombie towards Kenobi’s door and plasters his back against it. He slides down and tries desperately not to fall asleep at the bottom.

He will not let Rex take the princess when he’s in this state. He wants only for Kenobi to open the door so that he can fall back onto his floor and demand his son. Kenobi never gives him his son back. There is no longer any question that baby Luke is Kenobi’s child. The fact that he’s been produced by Anakin and Padme is a footnote in the broader history being made here.

Kenobi will, however, take Princess Leia, too, if left unsupervised. She still hates him—more than ever, really, but he doesn’t mind. He likes to lay the twins out together so that Leia’s jerky fussing will ruin Luke’s sleep cycles.

Kenobi is a man with no respect for the law in these parts. More jedi masters have to step in to get him under control. Master Koon takes the most pity on Anakin and gives him both of his children. The masters and the clones watch him stagger up with both babies and drunkenly return to their quarters.

A note is made to check on all three of them in fifteen minutes.

The twins, at 6 months old, have developed even more distinct personalities and hair. So much hair. Ahsoka puts Leia’s hair in pigtails and Leia will scream if anyone tries to adjust them or if she feels that they are falling out of shape.

Rex’s hands were once clumsy around ring-sized rubber bands. He is now an expert. He is such an expert that he can even make the occasional one stay in Luke’s slippery hair, which, of course, invokes an expression of betrayal in Luke that is so comical, Rex can’t see it without being brought to tears.

Luke hates him for this. He whimpers for his father—no, not that one. The good one.

These days, Kenobi is a cat who has gotten the cream.

The boy called him ‘dada’ before he gave the name to Anakin, and Kenobi nearly lost his life for it. He regrets nothing. He is technically barred from being around Luke, both by the other jedi and by Anakin specifically, but rules are things for other people in Kenobi’s world.

Anakin threatens him with bodily harm at every opportunity that he is not holding his daughter upside down.

She enjoys this. This is not just a daddy-thing to her either; she expects everyone to carry her like this. If not feet-to-the-sky, then at least draped over an arm, face-down like a sack of flour. She hums the way a cat would purr.

At nine months the babes are mobile and it is the worst thing that has happened to Anakin besides Padme’s death. They are not effectively mobile, but they are professionals at grabbing things and hauling themselves up to their chubby feet. Leia holds onto the fingers of anyone she can get and makes every brother who passes her walk her on their feet to her chosen destination.

Luke is a little slower.

He can get to his feet, but what he wants is to bounce there. If anyone tries to hold his hands, he clams up and falls down and doesn’t get up.

Anakin has begun negotiating with Leia to be more like her brother. She laughs at his face in great peels when he does this. She finds his serious expressions hilarious and wants to cuddle him anytime they appear which is great for domestic time and not so great for council or state meetings. Anakin has taken to appearing before these people with Leia latched around his ankle. Only her, though. Luke can’t bear being in the presence of so many bodies at once. He becomes overwhelmed and handles the pressure by going to sleep. Or crying.

For Kenobi, of course.

And when Kenobi is not around, they all may as well go start digging their own graves before the guilt propels them to do it anyways.

Luke is not a big crier. Anakin can’t understand him. They’ve had many conversations about telling adults when he needs things, all of which Luke elects to ignore in favor of trying to eat bugs and dig in sand.

The latter is the greatest sin that Anakin can dream of.

I just think that, given the opportunity, Obi-Wan would be the best grandpa ever and by best, I mean he would see his chance to have a baby and Anakin would end up chasing him around going ‘he’s MY mistake and MY responsibility, you crusty old fucker, give him back’ while Obi-Wan talks to Ahsoka about how nice the weather is.

#star wars #captain rex #Anakin Skywalker #Luke Skywalker #leia organa #Obi-Wan Kenobi #ficlet #fic #don't mind me I'm just over here doing shit other people have probably done already without a damn care in the world

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years

Text

You are a Jedi Initiate, and this is what that means:

It means being brought to the Temple so early that your memories of your birth family and home planet are little more than Force-preserved echoes, like distant bells ringing off a canyon wall far away. Echoes of echoes.

You’re raised instead by gentle beings of all ages and species, all of them filled with this strange music that you can hear everywhere around you, but especially in growing things.

You’re soothed by ancient lullabies and gentle nudges in the music, rocked by smooth arms and scaled arms and furry arms.

You have a sibling-brood of over two dozen, and you all fall asleep and wake to the same artificial lights, you all learn to walk on the same polished floors and green grasses.

You all take the same classes, and listen to the same song, and follow the instruction of the same elder-being with the big green ears and solemn eyes who smiles just for you.

You are a Jedi Padawan, and this is what that means:

It means being chosen by age thirteen by a Master - someone who was like you a very long time ago, but is now someone in control of themselves. They have Mastered themselves and are fluent in the music - the music, which you know by now is called the Force.

You’re enrolled in classes. Standard courses that all your fellows are taking, and courses tailored to your interests and skills.

You’re buried in the Archives one day, and running ragged in the salles the next.

You go on missions. You gain experience in the field, honing your ability to speak with diplomats, commoners, criminals, kings - to fight to defend and to destroy - to open your heart and mind to the Force and all the Life around you without allowing your soul to be worn out by the weight of grief and change.

You’re braiding and rebraiding a section of hair over and over. It grows longer as you grow taller, and beads of different shapes and colors and textures increase in number as you achieve new things. You’re able to tell them apart at a touch, when they brush against your cheek and neck as you move. They’re all important.

Your Master tugs on your braid to chide you, to warn you, to tease you. They smile, and you smile back, always slightly to the side and two steps behind.

You are a Jedi Senior Padawan, and this is what that means:

You’re sent on solo missions. You carry your own weight - and the weight of the mission, and the people you command, and the expectations of the Order, and the affections and hopes of your Master.

You’re sent back home in between. The Temple welcomes you back.

No matter how thick the Force may grow on planets across the galaxy, the song is best here, at home.

You are welcomed into familiar quarters with well worn rugs, two chipped eggshell-blue mugs full of your favorite tea, a warm touch on the shoulder that shifts briefly up to caress your cheek. And that laughing tug on the braid.

You are a Jedi Knight-Elect, and this is what that means:

You’re given a small alloy band to fix to your braid that tells every Jedi who sees it that you are being set for your Trials.

You’re given a break from missions to spend the traditional three days in self-training and deep meditation. Separate even from your Master, even from the Council.

It means that you are in the Temple when the 501st comes down on your home in its full might, marching boldly through the front doors, bombing the other major doors closed with rubble.

It means that you are shaken from meditation by a jolt in the depths of the Force so violent that you come up heaving and screaming all alone in a high tower room.

It means the residue of the music is still in your soul as you stagger to your feet, drawing your saber, feeling it suddenly inadequate in your experienced hands.

And you are experienced.

The Temple is a haven, in the war, for the Elders and younglings, for the invalids and newly wounded and the Healers that care for them. It is a safe place for Jedi seeking refuge from a world in which they are forced to make war in a desperate attempt to make peace.

It means the soldiers sweep through them so easily.

Unprepared.

Trapped.

Old.

Young.

...You’re young.

Nonetheless you are by far the oldest person in the room when a group of Clones pin you down in the domestic wing, a small huddle of junior Padawans and younglings behind you.

It means that you throw your entire being into shielding these small, innocent forms of life as their terror bleeds into the song, jarring discordant notes like screams.

It means that you do not see your Master Knight you.

You do not see your Master at all.

You feel the bond torn from your head like your heart being torn from your chest, and when you collapse to your knees a bolt that should have hit your stomach strikes a cowering child directly in the face.

You are a Jedi, and this is what that means:

It means you die.

You, and the ones who sang you lullabies, and the ones you took classes with, and the one who tugged your braid, and the crying child, and even the chipped blue mug.

...You die.

#i was in a mood #a sad mood #i’m so sorry #star wars fic #canon compliant #second person pov #sad #order 66 #Jedi purges #star war genocide #genocide #murder #it’s all sad

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starlightrows · 3 years

Text

In The Eye Of The Beholder

Chapter 1

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: brief description and mildly graphic medical jargon about losing an eye and having a prosthetic implant placed

Summary: Shortly after the events of the Battle of Khorm, the Kaminoans don’t see the value in moving forward with treatment for Commander Wolffe... you, the GAR doctor on the Coruscant disagree

“I don’t remember asking for your goddamn opinion ambassador!” you shout up at the pale long necked Kaminoan, who’s been passively berating you in an attempt to get your patient taken off life support. Your communicator goes off loudly, and you feel no shame in looking at it instead of listening to the Kaminoan ambassadors retort.

“I’m sorry ambassador, but this discussion is over. The requisition for the cybernetic prosthesis has gone through and whether you like it or not, I am going to give that man a fighting chance. He didn’t lay down his life to be tossed out with the garbage. Now get out of my med bay,” your turn on your heel, and begin speaking into your comlink to arrange for the surgery to get underway immediately.

The procedure took nine grueling hours to fully clear out the wound, put in the prosthetic eye and reconstruct the damage to the soldier's facial structure. He stood a good chance of making a full recovery if the cybernetic innervations healed correctly. Now it was just a matter of letting him rest and wake up in his own time.

Most clone troopers in the GAR hospital didn’t get many visitors, most didn’t stay long enough to need visitors though the ones that lived through their ordeals usually recovered on transports back to the front line. But this trooper had a frequent visitor, a Jedi.

“He must be a very good commander for you to check in on him so often,” you comment one afternoon, standing by the door. The tall Kel Dor turned to face you.

“He is. A dutiful, loyal, hardworking commander. But that is not why I come to see him,” he says

“Why then? Certainly a Jedi Master and a General in the Grand Army of the Republic has many duties and responsibilities to see to,” you approach the bed with your tray of fresh wound dressings for his eye.

“The same reason you advocated for him when the Kaminoans wanted to let him die. He is a person. An individual. He is a good man. And he is a member of my team,” he explains while you work to remove the bandages that keep the stitches and cybernetics clean.

“You care for him,” you say with a smile, applying a layer of bacta gel to the stitches with a cotton bud.

“Indeed. I care for him, and all of his brothers that serve under my command. I am not the only one who worries after his health,” The jedi steps around you, trying not to be in the way.

“Well that makes two of us. I don’t even know him, but I want him to live. And not just to keep serving the republic,” you finish applying the bacta gel and begin rewrapping his head with clean bandages.

“You have a good heart doctor, and better view of the troopers than most. I think he’ll like you when he has the chance to formally meet you,” the jedi says

“I should hope so, he’ll have to come back fairly regularly for check ups and case study updates. He’s the first living being with this particular model of prosthesis. If he doesn’t like me, it’ll be a very unpleasant couple months until the study is complete,” you’ve finished wrapping his head, but find you can’t stop looking at his handsome face. True you’ve seen thousands exactly like his before, but right now it’s as if you’ve never seen anyone like him.

“I’ll be the first to admit, he’s stubborn and a bit gruff. But he’s not so bad once you get to know him, he’s fiercely protective and hates to feel weak. This will be a difficult recovery for him, but I have confidence in him. And in you doctor,” you tear your gaze away from the commander and smile at the jedi.

“Thank you master jedi,” you give him a small bow of your head out of respect.

“Plo,” he says “No need for such formalities,” you wonder briefly if he is smiling beneath his deoxygenator, it certainly sounds like it.

“And him? They don’t include their chosen names in their identification codes, just CC and CT numbers. I doubt he goes by his CC number day to day,” you pack away your equipment, unfortunately other patients are waiting, as much as you would love to stay and chat with the kind jedi master. Plo tracks your movements, he senses your rising anxieties about having to leave and attend to other matters in the hospital. Just as you’re about to leave without getting an answer, Plo speaks up.

“His name is Wolffe”

—

Much to your delight, Commander Wolffe does wake up within a few days. And he’s every bit the stubborn, defensive, and unwilling patient Master Plo promised he would be. He keeps getting up and trying to leave despite obviously being in immense physical pain, he’s already ripped his stitches once, and he’s down right refusing to let you get near him to check the wound and change the dressing.

“Commander Wolffe I am at my wits end here. I’m going to step out to allow you a visitor, and when I come back you will be laying on that bed, I am changing those dressings, you are taking your medication. Is that that clear?” You bark at him. He glares at you with his one amber eye but does not respond.

You push the door open and see Master Plo waiting on the other side.

“He’s all yours General, talk some sense into him if you can,” you toss the comment over your shoulder as you head down to the nurses station for a cup of water.

Master Plo enters the patient room, and finds Wolffe pacing against the far wall. His head snaps up, and he visibly struggles to bring the newcomer into his field of vision.

“General!” Wolffe says in surprise, straightening his posture

“Wolffe, your doctor tells me you’re refusing care,” Plo closes the door behind him.

“I should be out there,” Wolffe growls “Kriff… I shouldn’t even be alive right now. They’re keeping me alive to keep me in a box!”

Plo senses that there is something more, something he’s holding back, beyond wanting to be released from med bay.

“You know better than most that withholding the truth can be the determining factor between life and death,” Master Plo says carefully, approaching Wolffe with slow movements “but this truth is one that needs to be shared,”

Wolffe’s shoulders drop and what little color he’s managed to regain drains from his face. His knees give out and he sinks down onto the floor, tears stain both his good cheek and the bandage. Master Plo moves to join him on the floor.

“Good soldiers don’t lay around in hospital beds and weep over superficial pain,” Wolffe says weakly “Soldiers that don’t recover quickly… get decommissioned and sent back to Kamino in a box,”

“You are already recovering quickly, and your doctor can give you something for the pain so you can heal faster,” Plo says cooly “You are not being sent back to Kamino. Your doctor made sure of that,”

“What?” Wolffe was surprised to hear this, up to this point all of his conscious interactions with you had been rather gruff and none too friendly, he can’t imagine why you weren’t doing everything in your power to get him out of your hospital and out of your way.

“A Kaminoan ambassador came to assess treatment at this hospital and saw your condition, they incorrectly assumed that it would be more beneficial to cease all treatment. Your doctor, shall we say, violently disagreed,”

“Violently sir?”

“They were furious she went ahead with the surgery. Believe me, if someone had recorded it on a holo I would show it to you. It was quite the spectacle,” Master Plo laughs “She was adamant that you deserved a fighting chance,”

—

Later that evening after General Plo had left, you returned to Wolffe’s room with a tray of equipment to change his dressings, and medicine to help with the pain.

“Commander Wolffe if I come into this room and you throw something or scream at me, I will have you physically restrained,” you say sharply before fully entering the room. He’s sitting on the bed facing away from the door.

“I won’t yell,” he replies quietly without turning around, his tone is decidedly gentler than before. Whatever the General said to him must have done the trick. You approach him cautiously, rounding the end of his bed so you could get a good look at him. His face is set in a harsh grimace.

“Are you in pain?” You ask. He nods but doesn’t reply. “I am going to change those dressings and we’re gonna test out that new eye. I think with a good dose of anti inflammatory medication, and some intraocular movement you’ll feel better,”

He nods again, you drag a chair over and sit in front of him, he doesn’t bat your hand away when you move to unwrap his bandages. The silvery white cybernetic eye under the protective padding is downcast to match its whiskey gold twin. The stitches are finally healing up with the help of the bacta gel.

“Good news Commander I think you’re healed enough you won’t need a fresh bandage. Now let’s see how well this prosthesis works. Can you look at my nose?” You remove a penlight from your pocket and shine it in each of his eyes.

You run through a series of tests asking him to stare straight ahead at you, follow the light with his eyes, and tell you when he can or can’t see you moving the end of the pen out of his vision. Pressure and tightness on his left side subsides he continues moving his eye around.

“Your reactions look normal, how does it feel?” you click off your penlight and tuck it away.

“Hurts a bit less,” he quietly admits “I’m sorry about before,”

His change in demeanor is a surprise but a welcome one, far better than him trying to escape or aggressively get away from you. You give him a small cup with the anti inflammatory medicine in it, and second small cup with water. He takes the pills without complaint. You remain seated in front of him, to maintain this comfortable closeness.

“It’s okay. I know this isn’t easy,” you give him a sympathetic look.

“General Plo mentioned that you advocated for me, I would be dead if it wasn’t for you…” he falters “thank you,”

That familiar feeling you had before when he was still on life support crept back up on you. Heartbreak for how much he and his brothers have to sacrifice, longing to show him the appreciation he deserves, and something else, something you can’t place.

“This war won’t last forever. You deserve the chance to live in the freedom and peace you fight so hard to protect,”

He’s a bit stunned. Sure he’s heard a handful of politicians advocating for clone rights, but he’s never heard anyone say something like this. He can tell your words are genuine and heartfelt.

“Is there any way I can repay you, or thank you for sticking your neck out for me?” He asks “It takes guts to stand up to those soulless bastards,”

“Well ah… don’t thank me too fast. I know you didn’t exactly sign up for this but your prosthetic is a brand new top of the line prototype. By default you’re a participant in the longitudinal study of its effectiveness,” you admit sheepishly. He raises an eyebrow and peers at you. “On the positive side, you’ll get a bit more shore leave to come in for appointments,”

“Well that’s certainly nothing to complain about. My offer still stands, can I take you out as a thank you?”

You smile warmly and quirk up a brow to match him. “Take me out? Hm… I get off in a couple hours and you’re being discharged from med bay today, I’m game if you give me a chance to run home and ditch my scrubs,”

“It’s a deal,”

#Star Wars #Clone Wars #Commander Wolffe #Wolffe #cc 3636 #commander wolffe x reader #commander Wolffe x fem reader #my clone husband

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primasveraas-writing · 3 years

Text

i've heard them calling my name

Anakin Skywalker faces five people after the second great betrayal of his lifetime.

Inspired in part by @naberiie's "thirteen minutes".

WORD COUNT: 1803

XXX

Anakin Skywalker isn’t dead, but he is dying.

It hurts, and he is used to the pain, the ache in his lungs, and the throbbing in what remains of his limbs. He’s used to the grief and the guilt and the sorrow.

What’s new is the light flooding him, overwhelming his mind and senses. What’s new is love, the feeling returned after an eternity of bitterness and hatred. What’s new is his son, so much smaller than Anakin in his mechanical suit, dragging him through the hangar, and the determination and compassion that flow from him; Luke the bright epicenter of his suddenly recentered galaxy.

But dying sounds like a horrible, raspy breath, and the wheeze of a failing ventilator.

And love sounds like: “I won’t leave you here. I’ve got to save you.”

Dying is dimness creeping in at the corners, quickly enough to scare Anakin, to rush his goodbyes.

Love is the blue of his son’s eyes, and the kindness shining in his face that reminds Anakin so much of Padmé.

He thinks of his wife, and of his daughter who he never knew, and of his son, and he mourns them all in a second, because the darkness is closing in, and his consciousness is fleeing him as is air, and again Luke desperately promises not to leave him, and Anakin exhales for the last time and his son’s voice is the last thing he knows.

There is incredible darkness and Anakin does not know nor think until a voice calls out his name and recognition blossoms with a burst of light flooding the void.

“Obi-wan?”

There is shame, deep and consuming because Anakin has betrayed his son, but he was a brother long before he was a father, and he has ruined Obi-wan with no chance of salvation like there is for Luke, and-

“Master, I’m so sorry- so very, very-”

Obi-wan says his name again, and tells him that there is more, that there can be forgiveness and immortality, and Anakin wants but he does not deserve, but he wants to see Luke again and meet his daughter and Anakin has always been selfish despite the Jedi’s teachings.

And if Obi-wan is truly offering him this chance- Obi-wan, with his fair logic and pragmatism- then maybe he does indeed deserve this, even if all others, Anakin included, do not think the same.

“I failed you, Master.”

Silence. Then, the light ripples, and there is his master, and he is smiling gently, and he shakes his head.

“And I failed you, Anakin. You needed more from me than I ever offered, and I am sorry for that.”

“After all I’ve done-”

“You did what no other Jedi could, in the end, and that is as the Force wills it.”

“I wish-” Anakin’s voice catches. “I wish it were different.”

“As do I.” Obi-wan looks sad now, and that is familiar, but he opens his arms and steps closer to Anakin. They embrace, there is love and comfort between them, things that Anakin has not allowed himself to miss in thirty long years.

When they part, Obi-wan regards him for a long moment, then speaks again.

“I still have much to teach you,” he says slowly, and Anakin nods. This has not changed, even now. “You will see others who have missed you as I have. You will find forgiveness and anger in unexpected places, from those living and dead, but, my dear padawan,” Obi-wan smiles now, a true contentedness painting his features, “you will know peace again. That is what you deserve.”

His mother is before him in the emptiness, as if from a dream.

Anakin Skywalker is decades old and a Jedi Knight and a war hero and a tyrant and a Sith Lord and evil personified and the Chosen One, and he sees his mother and runs to her.

Her embrace is warm and tight, and he knows her from the way his head buries into her neck, and the length of her arms around him, and the faint smell of spice on her tunic, and every inflection of her voice as she murmurs his name, and calls him my son, and says how I’ve missed you, and he sobs into her, pulling them both to their knees as he does.

“Mom,” he gasps, and all the shame hits him anew. He is his mother’s son, his selfless, compassionate, angel of a mother, and he is a monster who turned against everything she believed in.

“I love you,” she tells him, and he ducks his head, unable to meet her eyes. Instead, he shakes his head, letting hot tears slip down his cheeks.

“Come now,” she chides, wiping the wetness away with her sleeve. It’s as if he were four again, and he had just scraped his knee, rather than-

“I don’t deserve you, Mom,” he chokes, and although he needs her, it’s true.

“No,” Shmi’s tone is firm and resolute, “it has always been my job to love you unconditionally, Anakin. I’ll not stop now.”

“I did such terrible things-”

“Yes. And I forgive you for them.”

“How? How can you?”

“You are my son,” she says, and she cups his face in her hands and smiles at him, and he knows warmth and love with startling clarity once more. “And you have earned my forgiveness and always deserved my love.”

Anakin sobs again and hides in her shoulder, and Shmi holds him close until the cries subside and he is nearly calm again.

“There is more,” she advises him after a long while, and her warmth and love are still there but Shmi is very serious. Anakin’s throat dries, and he knows they are thinking of the same person.

“Not yet,” she says. “Soon."

“How can I-” the words die in his throat, and Shmi presses a kiss to his brow and looks him in the eye.

“She lived and died for you, Anakin. That love does not mean nothing.”

She smiles at him, her crow’s feet wrinkling, and her love is familiar and good and palpable, and then she, and everything, disappears.

There is a beautiful woman, with dark hair and eyes, and a short frame. Her features are sharp, but not harsh or unkind, except in the way that she looks at Anakin, which is with a mask of anger, her mouth set into a stern frown.

His wife’s name is on his lips, but there are differences, slight, but noticeable, and he realizes it’s because one woman aged while the other died, and when Sabé speaks, her voice rings out clearly in the tone of a queen with no time for mercy or forgiveness.

“You killed her.”

Anakin cannot breathe nor reply, so he nods instead, and stares at his feet.

“She was my life, and she died because of you, your selfishness, your rage. I worried from the second she married you, that you would be the death of her, and I was right.

“She let her love consume her, and so did you, but your love was poison,” Sabé spits. “You never deserved her.”

“No,” Anakin whispers. These are not the thoughts that made Darth Vader, but these are the ones that fueled him.

“I buried her. I loved her and I lived for her, and I brushed her hair and dressed her in her funeral gown and I tried to seek vengeance, and years later, a monster came to Naboo to find answers as I did, and I wondered why you didn’t kill us.”

“Because you look like her,” Anakin is still quieted by his shame. “Because I couldn’t destroy what was left of her.”

“I would have killed you then if I knew. I wanted to kill Vader with my bare hands, but you- you betrayed her. Death wouldn’t have sufficed for you.”

“I deserve that,” Anakin says, clear and loud. Sabé doesn’t disagree, but she regards him for a moment, studying his face, her own features still set in anger.

Then: “She forgives you.”

“What?”

“She wants to see you.” Sabé sighs and confusion overtakes Anakin’s shock, his heart pounding in his chest. “She loves you.”

“I love her,” Anakin blurts, and he tries not to shrink under Sabé’s scrutiny. “I love her still.”

“So do I,” Sabé says bluntly. “Which is why you’re seeing me first.”

“To berate me?” It makes sense to Anakin, although he has not particularly enjoyed this conversation, but Sabé seems amused, her eyes glinting.

“To tell you that you have served a penance. To show you that many will not grant you forgiveness.”

“Do you?” He suspects the answer, but the question

“I love Padmé. I follow her lead.” Sabé tilts her head to the side. “Though I keep my own reservations.”

She smiles faintly at that, then she is gone.

Padmé stands three feet before him, and she smiles.

Anakin staggers forward and stumbles, sinking to his knees. Tears are already streaming down his face when he murmurs her name, mixed with apologies and said like a prayer.

“Anakin,” Padmé says, and she holds him, tangling her fingers in his hair. “Oh, Anakin.”

He breathes her in; he still remembers the scent of her perfume and the softness of her hair, and the way her body fits against his own larger frame, and the gentleness of her touch and her voice, and he has loved her since he was nine years old, and through war and darkness and villainy and death, he has not stopped loving her.

“I love you,” she tells him, and presses a kiss to his forehead. Anakin sobs, cradling Padmé against him, and begs her again for forgiveness. “I love you, Anakin.”

“I should have- I-”

“I know,” she says, and her tone is firm. “In the end, you have made things right. That is what matters to me”

“Our children,” he whispers. “Luke saved me.” He finally looks up at her, sees the warmth in her brown eyes. “He’s like you, Padmé.”

“I believed in him as I believed in you.” His wife smiles again. “I always did.”

“I missed you,” he breathes, and Padmé squeezes his hand.

“I missed you, too. I waited so long to see you again.”

“I’m here,” Anakin exhales, shaky. “All I wanted was to be with you again.”

“I have you now.” Padmé leans in, kissing him, then rests her forehead against his.

“Now I am complete.” Anakin echoes his mother’s words from all those years ago, and he knows they are true.

Padmé rises with him, wrapping both her hands around one of his, and reaches up to kiss him once more. He holds her with his free arm, never wanting to leave her embrace, and content in the fact that he does not have to let go.

#anakin skywalker #anidala #im not an anakin apologist and i kinda hate him so this is a mess #hmmmmm #anakin skywalker fanfic #star wars #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars fanfic #darth vader #chracter study #star wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #luke skywalker #padme amidala #shmi skywalker #sabe #rotj #post rotj

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