#he sees obi-wan like twice a year after that and he JUST KEEPS GETTING HOTTER ?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crispyjenkins · 4 years

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Chosen-One!Obi-Wan x Jango where Jaster finds Obi-Wan after he’s lost(somehow lmfao,, idk maybe connecting ships like a connecting flight?) on his was to bandomeer and adopted by a haat’mando’ade advisor of Jasters?

(this would have been out on monday except i rewrote it twice T◡T this is by far the best version i already have a few haat mando’ade Obis so i gave this one a twist (ゝω·) thank you for the prompt, anon! i started planning this one as soon as it came in, i’m so happy to finally be able to get to it (ノ*´◡`) i hope you like it! i am now inordinately attached to the idea of a wookiee raising obi, and wanted to do so much more with chalmun but it did not work out by rewrite three. someday, friend (๑o﹏o๑)

When Obi-Wan meets the Mand’alor on Bandomeer, wearing his failures like funeral garb, Jaster calls him Haar Gaanla. The Chosen.

Obi-Wan never makes it to the Agricorp outpost, he doesn’t even make it out of the spaceport; the moment he steps off the transport from the Temple, the Force all but takes over his feet, humming in happiness as it leads Obi-Wan further and further into the port, until it pulls him to a stop in front of a Nova Courier starship.

A Mandalorian without a helmet turns around from stocking his cargo hold, and knows from one look that there’s something not quite right about Obi-Wan, that the way the opalescent Force ripples around him is not the way it surrounds others.

“Haar Gaanla,” the man says, as the Force whispers Mand’alor, as Obi-Wan says,

“I’m coming with you.”

Jaster lets him sleep in his bunk the whole way to Concord Dawn.

When Obi-Wan meets the Journeyman Protector Chalmun, the Wookiee stepping out of his terracotta dugout home on a farmstead that looks like it’s drowning in blooming behot, he calls Obi-Wan Haar Gaanla. The Chosen.

Obi-Wan smiles around his missing tooth, and calls him buir.

The prophecy of The Chosen One is not specific to the Jedi, Chalmun has heard it all over the galaxy from as many peoples as he has bowcasters — which is to say, a lot. Mandalore has had their own prophecy from as far back as the Taung, and Obi-Wan doesn’t know what that means for him, somehow raised a Jedi first, but Mando’ad now.

His first night as Chalmun’s foundling, he tells Obi-Wan the story of the Wookiee warrior that carried her people into the trees and showed them the sky, before giving them her bones to build the first treehouse. Her name, Otwiyaddirm, came to mean freedom, choice, and has a variation in all Wookiee tongues.

Chalmun tells him more stories like that while he teaches him how to farm and how to grow, how to care for the behot leaves that are their main income, but also the root vegetables planted at the bushes’ base. Master Tyvokka spoke Shyriiwook when Obi-Wan was in the Temple, but Obi-Wan’s crèchemaster was one of his apprentices, and she taught their whole clan Xaczik instead, partly just to piss her old master off.

Obi-Wan knows the Force likes to mess with him, lead him to believe one thing before spinning him 540º to another answer entirely, so he knows there is very little in his life that the Force does not have a hand in; that Chalmun speaks Xaczik rather than the far more common Shyriiwook? Well, it’s not as if Obi-Wan is surprised.

Before Jaster, Obi-Wan had only interacted with one Force user that was not a Jedi, a Zebraki woman that had come to study the architecture of the Coruscant Temple. Obi-Wan had snuck out of bed and was on the run from Master Oraruu when the Zabrak had found him and crouched in front of him — she called him Uifri with a sort of fond awe, and walked him back to the crèche with an impossibly gentle hand in his. Knight Kolar told him later that the closest word in Basic is Chosen.

Master Plo had called him ‘a lantern in the Force’ when he first brought Obi-Wan to the temple, and the description stuck far into his initiate days. Quinlan would tease him about it, saying he ran a few degrees hotter than other humans, because to Quinlan, he was warmth more than light.

So Obi-Wan isn’t unused to epithets and comparisons and whispered names in languages he doesn't speak, but he doesn’t know what to do with himself when his new buir starts to affectionately call him Otwiyaddirm, just as often as he calls him cub.

It certainly confuses Jaster’s foundling the first few times the Mand’alor checks in on Obi-Wan and brings Jango along, who despite being a few years older than Obi-Wan and Haat Mando’ad to boot, can’t pronounce Obi-Wan’s Xaczik name and instead just calls him Nau’ika. Little Light.

Even after Jango learns Obi-Wan has a name in Basic, the nickname stays, because though his midichlorian count is lower than even Jaster’s, Jango can still see his light in the Force. Mando’a doesn’t have a word for the sorts of open-flame lanterns Master Plo had referred to, but Jaster says he thinks Nau’ika suits them just fine.

“Can you feel it?”

Jango looks up from the stone wash basin outside by the greenhouse, where Jaster had assigned the two of them to wash tubers for thirdmeal, but he finds Obi-Wan resolutely focussed on the blue tuber he’s scrubbing. He’s rolled the sleeves of his red linen shirt up past his elbows, arms toned from working the farmstead, and Jango has half a mind to be amused by Montross’ insistence that Journeyman Protectors and their clans simply can’t compete with Supercommandos — Montross has obviously never seen the size of the sacks of behot leaves Obi-Wan and Chalmun regularly sling from the barn to their speeder.

“Feel what?” Jango asks, while Obi-Wan works at a particularly stubborn spot of dirt with his reed scrubber.

Obi-Wan doesn’t answer immediately, but his expression is relaxed and thoughtful, so Jango doesn’t press, just waits quietly at his side. He had grown in leaps and bounds under Chalmun’s careful rearing, strong and smart and kind, and he looks almost nothing like the tiny Jedi imp that Jango had met six years before.

His hair is redder now, baked under Concord Dawn’s blue sun until it’s almost copper in the summers. Farmer-tanned skin is spattered with freckles and blemishes where he had been pale as a wampa in a snowdrift when Chalmun had first taken him in; Arla had been like that, too, and something in Jango aches.

“Me.”

Jango blinks, quickly returning to his own scrubbing when he realises he had been staring. “You? Oh, you mean the light thing?” Obi-Wan nods once. “Of course I can, everyone above Force-null can.”

His relaxed expression tightens, lips pressed thin as the water in the basin moves preternaturally. “Everyone keeps saying that,” he says softly, “even the other Sensies here think I’m special.”

“Aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan shrugs, pushing his hair out of his face with the back of his wrist; it still leaves water running down his forehead, and Jango’s brain short circuits, just a little. “I don’t know. The Jedi certainly didn’t think so.”

“And we’re supposed to care what those shabuire think?” Jango scoffs. “They must be even better at sticking their heads in the ground than I thought, if even the children couldn’t feel you.”

“Wouldn’t they have wanted me if they did?”

Ah, well, perhaps Jango should have expected this.

He can count the number of times Obi-Wan has talked about his time in the Temple on one hand, despite Jaster checking in on him every few months for the last six years. He’s said that his destiny was not with the Jedi in this iteration of the universe, that he knows the Force had not led him astray, and Jango knows he’s genuinely happy here with Chalmun and the Mando’ade, but he also understands that line of thought.

“Would you go back to them if they asked?”

Obi-Wan finally looks at him, wide-eyed. “What? Of course not.”

“Then does it matter knowing what they thought back then, when you don’t care what they think now?” Jango takes the tuber from Obi-Wan’s hand and drops it in the drying basket with the rest, before pulling the stone stopper from the bottom of the basin to drain the water into a pipe that would take it to the reprocessing tank to be reused in watering the fields. “I’m Haat’ad, Nau’ika: I know droidshit about the Force and Force users, and even less about this prophecy nonsense our buire seem to think is important.” He hefts the basket onto his hip and waits for Obi-Wan to hang the scrubbers over the side of the basin to lead them back to the dugout house; he kicks open the door and holds it with his foot for Obi-Wan to duck past him. “I just know you don’t feel like anything else in the galaxy, that people will always want to take advantage of that power, and that you are far safer all the way out here than in the Core.”

Their conversation falls off as they remove their shoes to join Jaster and Chalmun in the kitchen, and though Obi-Wan doesn’t bring it up again that night –or any time after– Jango knows he thinks about it still.

When Jango’s starcruiser drops out of the sky over Concord Dawn, crashing into the behot fields and cutting a furrow of flying dirt and flowers right across the farmstead, Obi-Wan is already calling on the Force, oily-black and opalescent and warm, to drag Jango from the wreckage. Obi-Wan wraps it heavy around the both of them, as he kneels in bloody, screaming mud with Jango’s head on his shoulder, as he holds his hand heavy, warm, oil-slick against Jango’s throat until his dead pulse jumps underneath his palm.

Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore. Haar Gaanla — “The Chosen”, fan creation for a Mandalorian Chosen One myth behot — an herb with a citrus taste and mildly stimulating properties, most often infused into shig, a Mandalorian beverage used similarly to caf buir/e — “parent/s”, gender neutral Haat Mando’ad/e — lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians (slang shortened to Haat'ad/e) Nau’ika — “Little light”, nickname for this specific Obi, which becomes new Mando’a slang for open-flame lanterns shabuir/e — an extreme insult, mostly accepted in fandom to be an insult of an individual’s ability to parent (from buir), which is an intrinsic part of Mandalorian psyche and identity Uifri — “Chosen”, Zabraki (found with this translator) Otwiyaddirm — name meaning “Choice”, “Freedom”, Xaczik (made by combining names with this generator; myth is my own)

*my understanding is that blue suns supporting planet life is impossible, but i raise you: rule of cool. and does concord dawn even have a blue sun in disney or legends canon? i dunno, but you can’t stop me*

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steves-on-a-plane · 3 years

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Destiny Disputed

Words: 2216 Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader Timeline: Pre-Episode VII AU Summary: Ben takes Reader on what they think is a joy ride to an outer rim planet. What Reader quickly finds out is that Ben has come to Tatooine in an attempt to define himself and his place in the force.

“Hold on tight, we’re going in for the landing.” The young pilot behind the yolk of a borrowed tandem x-wing you were riding in told you. His voice came in slightly static through your headset. You looked through the viewport trying to see the planet below. “It’s going to take a while before you see anything good.” He told you as if reading your mind.

“Well, it’s Tatooine, so I won’t see anything good until we leave.” You insisted. “But I never get tired of seeing planets from this high up.” You smiled.

“I used to think that too.” He laughed. “But the magic wears off after a while.”

“I just realized that other than your uncle, who we see every day, you never talk about your family. Did you travel a lot as a kid?” You wondered.

“My mother is in government and my father is the captain of a freighter.” He told you. “So, there was a little bit here and there.”

“A captain?” You commented, clearly impressed. “Is that where you learned to fly?” The curved sandy surface of the planet below finally came into view as the X-wing continued to descend towards Tatooine.

“You could say it’s in my blood.” He answered back. “My Uncle always dreamed of being a pilot. I’m told my grandfather was a pilot too. I’ve been flying as long as I can remember.”

“You have quite the legacy to live up to, Ben.” You told him.

“Yeah.” He scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

“How exactly did you talk Master Luke into letting you borrow this X-Wing anyway?” You asked.

“Right, about that…” His sentence trailed off.

Once the X-Wing was landed and secure at Docking Bay 42, You followed Ben to the crowded streets of Mos Eisley Spaceport. They weren’t streets in the sense that you were used to. They were more like dusty pathways with no clear flow of traffic. Only a few steps off the ship and you were already grieving it’s temperature control settings. The planet of Tatooine was hot, dry, and full of sand.

“What exactly is so important here that you had to steal an X-wing for?” You found yourself coughing violently as flecks of sand managed to find their way into your lungs. Ben rolled his eyes at you.

“Wear this.” Without giving you a change to protest, he wrapped a thin piece of linen cloth in such a way that your mouth and nose were covered. “It protects you from the sand.” He explained impatiently. “And I didn’t steal the X-wing. We’re going to bring it back.”

“You’re still not answering my question.” You remarked. “What’s so special about this place? Other than the fact that it’s a miracle any life forms can survive on it at all.”

“C’mere.” He grasped your hand and tugged your off the street. The two of you were wedged together between two Tatooineian Clay buildings. You hadn’t thought the dual sun planet could feel any hotter, but with your chest pressed against Ben’s, you could feel his every breath on your exposed skin.

“I never tell anyone this. I don’t want the others to make fun of me. Can you keep a secret?” You nodded. “My mother is Leia Organa-Solo. She was the princess of Alderaan. Her husband is Han Solo.”

“As in General Leia Organa Solo?” You repeated.

“Yes, not so loud!” He covered your mouth with his hand. Maybe it was the heat but pressed between him and the building with one of his hands holding yours the other covering your mouth, it was almost romantic. Definitely the heat. You decided. “We can’t be overheard talking about them here, do you understand?” You nodded. He nodded back, removing his hand.

“I don’t understand, you tell everyone your name is Ben Skywalker. Why would you do that?” You questioned in a whisper.

“I couldn’t avoid being Luke Skywalker’s nephew. The others would sense some type of familial bond through the force, but they didn’t need to know about my parents. I want to forge my own destiny. I don’t want to be known as the general’s son, or the smuggler’s son. I just want to be me. You can understand that can’t you?”

“I-I…” You looked into his brown eyes. You could feel the weight of what he was saying. You could feel it in his body language and in the force. You could feel how it had burdened him all this time. How he was pleading with you now to understand him. You were proud of where you came from. Your father was a respectable trader and your mother, who had been a pilot in the rebellion, now worked transport jobs for the republic. She’d even met Leia Organa once or twice and had nothing but kind things to say about the general.

“What’s on Tatooine, Ben?” You asked him again.

“Ghosts.” He whispered. “And we’re going to see them all.” He tugged you out of the ally and towards a land speeder rental.

“You said before that I have a lot to live up to.” Ben recalled your earlier conversation. “Everyone in my family was once a nobody.”

“Everybody is somebody, Ben.” You disagreed.

“Not in the outer rim.” He shook his head. He stopped the speeder. It appeared you were hovering inside abandoned ruins of some sort of colosseum. “When my grandfather was a child, before he was a jedi, he was a slave; a nothing. Where we are now was once the starting point for the Boota Eve Classic. A podrace. A pod race that my grandfather won, his winnings were used to repair the ship of a jedi master named Qui Gon Jin who helped him escape this place. Without pod racing, he never escapes Tatooine, he never becomes a Jedi, he never becomes Darth Vader.”

“There’s no way to know that for sure.” You disagreed. “Master Skywalker says…”

“Master Skywalker.” Ben offered a grunt of contempt.

“Is it Master Skywalker or his teachings that you don’t like?” You asked over the hum of the landspeeder. Ben was already steering the vehicle away from the forgotten racetrack towards another part of the planet.

“What I don’t like are his philosophies.” Ben hissed. You watched his grip on the landspeeder’s yolk tighten. “My father is the sort of man who believes a person makes their own destiny. Uncle Luke thinks all things are determined by The Force. That our destiny isn’t fully within our control. I suppose my mother is somewhere in between, though her opinion was rarely asked about while the two of them debated at the dinner table.”

“So which do you believe? That our choices all mean nothing or that they mean everything?” You watched his brows furrow together. He scowled into the skyline.

“That’s what we’re here to find out.” You traveled in silence for serval miles. You wondered how Ben could so easily navigate the planet. To you Tatooine seems to be nothing but sand for parsecs and parsecs. He navigated the terrain as if he’d spend all of his youngling years there. You supposed it was possible he could have. He’d already admitted to lying about who he was once. You began to wonder if you really knew him at all.

The landspeeder seemed to stop suddenly. You glanced around looking for any type of landmark. Ben reached over and tilted your chin with his forefinger and thumb. He pointed out to the horizon. If you squinted, you could just make out the signature dome shape of a moisture farmhouse. You knew from the stories he shared around the temple that Master Luke had grown up on a moisture farm.

“Is that…” You started to ask Ben.

“Not exactly. Like the legends say, the majority of it was burned down the day my uncle left the planet, but it’s the same land the family farm was on.” Ben nodded solemnly. “The family farm where my great grandmother lived and my uncle lived and where my great uncle died. Did anyone ever tell you who I was named after?”

“Until a few hours ago I’d thought your last name was Skywalker.” You reminded him. “How do I even know your name is Ben?” You turned in your seat and looked at him. You waited for a response.

“I deserve that.” He laughed. “I am named after Uncle Luke’s mentor. A jedi named Obi Wan Kenobi. The people in the area knew him as Old Ben. He lived here for eighteen years here keeping an eye on Luke. Trying to protect him from my grandfather.”

“How exactly is this helping you with your moral dilemma?” You interrupted him. Both Ben and his uncle had an affinity for dramatic story telling. Normally you enjoyed that sort of thing. There wasn’t much entertainment at the temple. Being in the vast openness there in the broiling land speeder, however, had taken away your usual appreciation for grandiose speeches.

“How is it possible that so many people’s stories can be intricately intertwined here, on this one planet?” He didn’t wait for you to answer before asking another question. “How can so many lives start and end here and it mean nothing? Obi Wan brings a baby Luke Skywalker here to this broiling hellscape while his sister is sent to live in the utopia that was Alderaan. What if instead they’re switched? If Luke becomes Luke Organa, prince of Alderaan, does he still grow up dreaming of becoming a pilot and discovering life somewhere else? If Leia Skywalker spends her life here, does she still become the great general who openly defies Darth Vader and helps get the Death Star plans to the rebellion? We have one more stop on our tour.”

The landspeeder gave a sudden jerk forward and you began to move away from the moisture farm and back towards the closest thing to pass for civilization on Tatooine. It was in that moment that you sensed it for the first time. You weren’t sure how you’d missed it for so long. You’d known Ben most of your life after all. Sure, he’d been quiet and mostly kept to himself, but you’d always considered him a friend.

You’d always known he was powerful. That was the burden of the Skywalker legacy. He’d always learned things faster than others and you assumed it was because of his bond with Master Luke or maybe that he’d received additional training on the side. Despite being good friends for years, you realized you’d never been truly alone with Ben. The sheer vastness of Tatooine meant it were just the two of you alone, no other lifeforms for miles.

Your fight or flight response told you to be afraid. You felt yourself stiffen, as if even the slightest muscle twitch would put you in danger. You fought to gather yourself and shake the feeling away. Surely it was the unfamiliar planet that had given you a scare. Maybe all of Ben’s talks of ghosts had put something in your head. Deep down though you knew, the darkness that you were sensing was coming from Ben.

“You’re afraid of me.” He stated. “There’s no sense in lying. I can sense it in you.”

“No.” You told him quietly, your voice barely audible over the speeder’s hum. It was the truth. Ben had been nothing but kind to you, you had no reason to be afraid of him. It was the darkness you were afraid of. You wondered if it scared him too. Had it been the allure of the darkside that had brought him all the way to Tatooine?

“My uncle is.” Ben told you. In the distance the outskirts of Mos Eisley were visible at last. You no longer cared about making it back to the spaceport. “He’s worried I’m too much like Vader. That I won’t be able to fight it.”

“What do you think?” You asked.

“That he doesn’t know me at all.” Ben answered. “That if he knew I had something worth fighting for, he’d understand why I wasn’t really tempted by the dark side.”

“What’s that? The something you’re fighting for?” You questioned.

“You don’t already know?” He stopped the landspeeder a mile from the very edge of Mos Eisley. He turned to look at you. You met his gaze with your own. “My father once said that a man doesn’t get where he’s going alone. You get as far as you can on your own, but sooner or later you need at least one good partner to walk beside. Someone to co-pilot when you just can’t seem to make it that final stretch of the journey. There’s a cantina in town, the same one my father met Uncle Luke and Old Ben at for the first time. You’ll know it’s the right place when you hear a blith band that playing incessant Jatz music. After an hour, if you’re not there, we’ll meet back at the ship, I’ll take you to the temple and we’ll never speak a word of it again.”

“What sort of a co-pilot would I be, if I even got out of the speeder?” You asked reaching for his hand. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Ben. I’ve got you.” You promised.

#Ben Solo #Kylo Ren #Ben Solo x Reader #Ben Solo Fan Fiction #Ben Solo FF #Ben Solo Fan Fic #Kylo Rea Fan Fiction #Kylo Rea Fan Fic #Kyle Ren FF #Kylo Ren x Reader #Male!Reader #Female!Reader #gender nuetral reader #Ben Solo Reader Insert

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fialleril · 7 years

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I just had to deal with all this transphobic bullshit in therapy (because why should my doctors bother to actually respect me) and I cried all day and I just feel awful. If it's not too much trouble, could I get a snippet of Anakin totally destroying someone who absolutely deserves it? Verbally, physically, I don't really care, I'm just in serious need of a revenge fantasy. I don't care what universe it's in. I love all your fics and I'd really appreciate it if you could take the time. Thanks!

Posting this publicly with permission - I hope it helps! (And I hope you can get access to a therapist who will respect you.)

This is another snippet from the Jedi reformation AU. In which Anakin and a couple of Padme’s former handmaidens plot to help a group of enslaved people escape from the palace of the king of Brundia. A king who just so happens to also be Anakin’s Jedi assignment at the time. Also, at least one character has now officially migrated to this fic from Anabasis.

Takes place less than a year before AOTC. Warnings for discussion of slavery.

Anakin’s transponder goes off almost the minute they dock onBrundia. He hesitates a moment after settling the ship and powering down, justlong enough that Obi-Wan looks over at him with a raised brow.

“I know you’re not excited about this mission, padawan,” hesays dryly. “But I do hope I won’t have to drag you off the ship. We don’t wantto keep His Majesty waiting.”

“Of course not, Master,” Anakin mutters, exaggerating hissigh just that much more than necessary. It makes Obi-Wan roll his eyes, and hemisses the way Anakin taps twice against a pouch on his utility belt as he pullshimself to his feet with a groan.

King Marlonartan the Seventh, formally styled His RoyalHighness, Lord of the Fifteen Mysteries, Prince of the Infinite Isles, Augustand Radiant Fount of Wisdom, Crown of Justice and Throne of Mercy, King Ordainedby All the Powers of the Cosmic Oneness, Marlonartan, Seventh of that Line, isnot someone who likes to be kept waiting. He’s also, apparently, one of thosepeople who believes that on time is in fact late. It’s a common belief amongMasters, though they never seem to apply it to themselves.

Obi-Wan and Anakin present themselves before the AugustPresence at exactly 17:00 galactic standard time, just as they were scheduled.The Fount of Wisdom glares down at them from his jewel encrusted throne and mutters,peevishly, “I had understood that Jedi were always punctual. You disappoint me,Master Kenobi. I would expect to be shown more respect by the emissaries of theSupreme Chancellor.”

“I do apologize, Your Highness,” Obi-Wan says, bowingdeeply. His annoyance is obvious in the Force, though nothing of it shows inhis outward bearing. Anakin follows his lead, teeth gritted to hold back ascoff. He’s already imagining how he’ll describe this scene to Kitster.

Their assignment is simple enough: they’re on securitydetail for the duration of Brundia’s week-long celebration of the Exalted andMost Holy Day of the Birth of the King. The Council believes that KingMarlonartan, who has a history of predicting threats against his person, mayactually have reason to be concerned this time, so they’ve sent Obi-Wan andAnakin to babysit.

“This assignment is fairly routine, and we don’t expect muchresistance,” Master Windu had said. “But Brundia is a strategic world in ourefforts to combat the spread of the Separatist movement.” Then his eyes hadnarrowed and he’d added, “And Padawan Skywalker could use the practice indiplomacy.”

Obi-Wan had agreed of course, his embarrassment not quitehidden in the Force, and Anakin had bowed and said, “Yes, Master,” and that wasthat.

Later, when he messaged her with the news, Padmé respondedwith a long string of laughing faces. “Someday,” she wrote, “we’re going toattend the same diplomatic summit, and I’ll get to see the show in person.” Shealways calls it “the show,” mainly because she finds it absolutely hilariousthat the Council still believes Anakin causes diplomatic incidents out ofignorance, rather than out of very deliberate choice.

Padmé had offered a bit of teasing advice, too. “I’ve metKing Marlonartan before,” she wrote, followed by a grimacing face that made himlaugh for longer than it probably should have. “It’s pretty much impossible todo too much bowing and scraping, as far as he’s concerned, so you can get awaywith quite a lot there. Just…try not to call him a rich Core Worlder to hisface.”

“No promises,” Anakin wrote back, and he’s fighting a grinthinking about it now.

But he manages to mold his face into an expression of deepcontrition as he bows low, his right palm pressed to his brow, in the properdisplay of Brundian fealty. “Please forgive us, Most Merciful Highness,” hesays, eyes trained on the marble floor. “I am only a learner, and I fear my aweof your magnificent palace caused my Master to be delayed.”

He can feel Obi-Wan looking at him, and his Master’scuriosity prodding at the edges of his mind. Anakin hides a smirk and lets histhoughts fill with the pious desire to do well, to have a successful missionand meet the Council’s expectations. That makes Obi-Wan even more suspicious,but as a shield it’s effective, and a moment later his mind withdraws. Anakin’sglad that he’s looking down, so the laughter doesn’t show on his face.

The truth is, the obsequious bowing and constant use offlowery, inflated titles come easily. Resistance in the form of scrupulousobedience is a lesson older than his oldest memory, and in a place like this,where even the hint of a double meaning is completely lost not only on the kingbut on his Jedi Masters as well, it’s almost fun.

King Marlonartan nods graciously and offers his forgiveness,and then they’re dismissed to meet with the king’s security team.

“What was that, padawan?” Obi-Wan hisses the moment the ornatedoors of the throne room close behind them.

Anakin offers his best innocent, eager to please smile.“Diplomacy, Master,” he says. “I really am trying to do better. I know howimportant this mission is.”

Obi-Wan looks at him for a long moment with narrowed eyes.Finally he sighs. “Just try not to cause a diplomatic incident this time,” hesays wearily. “That’s all I ask.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin says dutifully.

He doesn’t manage to slip away until nearly midnight, afterthey’ve gone over King Marlonartan’s security arrangements twice andestablished a shift for both regular guards and Jedi protectors.

Obi-Wan’s on watch now, and Anakin is supposed to besleeping. He’s going to be horribly tired through his shift, he knows, but he’srun on less sleep before and this is far more important.

Rabé and Yané are waiting for him in an all-night dinerthat’s half the city away from the palace and might as well be on anotherplanet. The streets here are narrow and dingy, lit by sporadic stabs of blindinglybright light that serve only to cast the rest of the street in deeper shadow.The air is full of myriad food smells, some more appetizing than others. It’s afar cry from the perfumed air of the palace. Anakin breathes it all in with asigh of pure relief.

He spots the two Naboo women instantly, though they’ve goneto some pains to make themselves unremarkable. Without the makeup and fineclothes, neither of them looks all that much like Padmé, which helps.

He slides into the booth next to Yané without a word, andjust manages to hold back a laugh when they both simply blink at him.

“Can we help you?” Rabé asks at last, her voice pointedlycold, and a snort of laughter escapes Anakin in spite of his best efforts.

“Well I hope so,” he says, grinning, as he reaches up to tapa finger against his padawan braid, tied up and around the short tail of hairat the base of his neck.

Their eyes widen, and Yané blurts, “Ani?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, laughing again. “Do I really look thatdifferent without the braid?”

Rabé snorts. “It’s not the braid,” she says. “I swear, Ani,the last time I saw you, you were still shorter than me. What the hellhappened?”

That’s an exaggeration, of course, but she does look a good bit shorter than heremembers, so Anakin lets it go.

“Jedi nutrition,” he says dryly. “It’s very exact.”

“I’ll say,” Rabé mutters, eyeing him up and down. “You oughtto market that diet.”

“A Jedi never strives for profit,” Anakin says piously.

“Oh, sure,” Yané says, nodding sagely. “That’s why you havea major fundraiser every year, and that charity gala in the Senate.”

“Well, the generosity of the people of the Republic isdifferent, of course.”

“Of course,” Rabé says. She smiles wryly and slides adatareader containing the diner’s menu across the table to him. “Are youeating?”

“Troona, yes,”Anakin says. “The king had a feast tonight, and Obi-Wan and I had to worksecurity. They served caviar and a bunch of little things on sticks thatprobably cost more than everything in this place. It was awful.”

“Poor baby,” Yané says, patting his arm. “We picked theright place, then. My sources tell me the Aldoshan curry here is enormous, andhotter than the lava pits of Mustafar.”

Anakin orders the curry, and when the waitress comes back afew minutes later to see how they like their meals, he asks if she has any hotsauce. Rabé and Yané stare at him, aghast, and even the waitress looksimpressed, but Anakin just shrugs them off. “I’ve been cooking for Obi-Wan foryears now, so everything’s been mild. I’m not going to miss my chance at realfood.”

“It’s amazing you have any taste buds left,” Rabé says witha laugh.

“Core Worlders are just weak,” Anakin says, grinning arounda mouthful of curry. “So, what have you got for me?”

“Big news,” says Yané, glancing around surreptitiouslybefore sliding a datastick to him. “We’ve got a group of twenty-three comingalong the Ryloth trail next week, and half of them need ID. But the moreimmediate concern is right here on Brundia. And it’s going to complicate thingsfor you.”

“Ah,” says Anakin. “I knew I had a bad feeling about thismission.”

Rabé rolls her eyes. “No, you just picked that up fromObi-Wan,” she says. “He always has a bad feeling about everything.”

Anakin snorts. “True. Okay, so approximately how many of theking’s servants are actually slaves?”

For a moment Rabé and Yané both just stare at him. Then Yanéshakes her head. “You picked up on that, huh? I don’t know why I’m surprised.Our sources say there are nineteen people working in the palace who…didn’texactly choose to work there.”

“How diplomatic of you,” Anakin says dryly. “And you’ve gota contact?”

“Dinsa Atray,” Rabé says. “She’s a Twi’lek woman, not mucholder than you. The information’s all there.” She gestures vaguely at him, buthe knows she means the datastick.

“You’ve got a transport ready?” he asks.

“Ready and waiting,” Yané says. “We just need thepassengers. But we haven’t been able to get admission to the palace, and Dinsaand her people can’t get out.”

Anakin smiles. Maybe there’s a reason he’s here on Brundiaafter all. Even if it does mean he’s almost certainly going to end up breakinghis promise to Obi-Wan. And he’s not likely to do himself any favors in MasterWindu’s eyes, either.

Oh well. He’s got a reputation by now, so they won’t exactlybe suspicious if another of his diplomatic missions goes awry.

“Leave that to me,” he says with a grin.

Dinsa Atray isn’t hard to spot, once he knows who to lookfor. She seems to be always present at every banquet the king holds, and heholds a lot. She’s Marlonartan’s personal server, it seems, and that could be aproblem. Anakin watches her, demure and silent as she serves her master anotherglass of sparkling wine, and wonders how he’s going to explain Marlonartan’sassassination, if she moves before he has a chance to talk to her.

One thing he knows for sure: if she does move, he’s notgoing to stop her.

But two days go by, and no one tries to kill the king, andfinally Anakin manages to catch Dinsa alone. They’ve just endured yet anotherfeast, and the king’s gone off to bed with Obi-Wan on guard duty. Anakin’smeant to be sleeping, but he has much more important things to do, and anywaythe food at tonight’s so-called feast was even worse than usual, so maybe hehas an ulterior motive for visiting the kitchens. Or maybe it will just make agood excuse.

Dinsa starts when she hears him enter, then spins aroundwith a knife in her hand. Startled or not, she holds the knife like someone whoknows what she’s doing.

But her eyes widen when she sees who he is, and she dropsthe knife on the counter and her eyes to the floor. “I’m so sorry, MasterJedi,” she whispers. “What can I help you with?”

Anakin winces. He can’t help but wonder how many Jedi she’smet before. How many Jedi have come here and left again. I didn’t come here to free slaves, the memory of Master Qui-Gonwhispers in his mind, and Anakin grits his teeth and blurts, “I came to helpyou. And my name is Anakin, not Master.”

He says it in Ryl, and he thinks it’s that more than thewords themselves that gets her attention.

Dinsa looks up sharply, eyes narrowed and expressionunreadable. She’s silent for a long moment. And then, slowly, she smiles.

“You have a Tatooine accent,” she says.

“Mos Espa,” he says, smiling back. “I learned fromGrandmother Imayli.”

Her brow arches again, and he knows she understands the fullsignificance of that. But all she says is, “I didn’t know there were any Jedifrom the Territories.” There’s not a trace of emotion in her voice.

Anakin is impressed, and maybe a little jealous. “There’snot,” he says, and tells himself there’s no hint of bitterness to his smile.But he can see in Dinsa’s eyes that she knows. “There’s just me.”

He tells her that he’s in contact with her transport, andasks what it will take to get everyone out.

Dinsa eyes him for another long moment. “All I really needis a thorough distraction,” she says.

“I’m good at distractions,” Anakin says with a grin.

“And the other Jedi?” Dinsa asks, and Anakin’s smile falls.

Obi-Wan is a true Jedi. He’ll prize the mission overeverything else, and his mission is what they were assigned by the Council: toprotect King Marlonartan. Assignment or not, that’s not Anakin’s mission.

“He’s…good at responding to distractions,” Anakin says atlast, and feels a little guilty for not feeling guilty.

Dinsa only nods. “I understand,” she says. “So we’ll givehim the kind of distraction he can react to.” She eyes him slyly and adds, “Ihave access to more than enough chemicals. All I really need is a detonator. Idon’t suppose you have one lying around?”

“Give me an hour and I will.”

The explosion goes off in the middle of the next evening’sfeast. Anakin will discover later that it takes out the majority of the RoyalAtrium, where they’d feasted only the night before. But tonight they are in theGilded Ballroom, on nearly the opposite side of the palace. The assassinationattempt has been foiled chiefly by the assassin’s bad information, and no oneis hurt in the blast.

Obi-Wan instantly springs into action, taking up position atthe king’s side and ushering him rapidly from the room and into a secure,undisclosed location. Anakin yells that he’s going to secure the perimeter, andignores Obi-Wan’s questioning glower as he dashes from the room.

It’s almost disappointingly easy to disable the securitycams when the palace is on lockdown. The array is pretty sophisticated, and thecoverage is extensive, but the entire system goes down if both the power andthe backup generator fail. Obviously, whoever set off the explosion must haveknown this. It’s unfortunate that, whoever they were, Anakin must have justmissed them – the system control room is dark and empty when he arrives. Atleast, that’s what he’ll tell Obi-Wan and the king later.

Anakin’s duty, of course, is to get everything up andrunning again. That will only take him a few minutes. So he takes his timeexamining the system and looking for clues in the room. The door hasn’t beenforced. It’s almost as though there wasn’t anyone here before him at all.

Less than ten minutes later, he gets a secure transmissionfrom Dinsa. “We’re out,” it says. Anakin smiles to himself and reboots thesecurity system.

An hour after that, there’s another transmission, this onefrom Yané. “And we’re off. Sorry for blowing up your mission.”

Anakin erases the message immediately, but he’s stilllaughing to himself about it days later as he and Obi-Wan are on their way backto Coruscant, King Marlonartan’s rather peevish thanks still ringing in theirears.

#replies #boytranscending #i write things #the jedi reformation au #and honestly this particular snippet could also fit into #the pen pal au #star wars #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #yane #rabe #dinsa atray #slavery

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