#I will erase quite a few lines from his face like I did with Anakin once I get to the shading

[omaano]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like). 

Thanks for bullying me into occasionally drawing something for myself as well @insertmeaningfulusername ❤️ (even if just so that I can answer your tags XD)

The old man has way too many lines now. More news at definitely-not-8.

Tagging (show off what you’re working on 👀): @ominouspuff @razzbberry @frostbitebakery @cacodaemonia @cocotter @traumschwinge @nicolabarth @shortmage @mythosaur34667 @nautilicious

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Grudge; aka a young Jedi tries to drop a bridge on Vader’s head, and it goes about as well you’d expect (for the people out there who want to see Vader being the insanely powerful murder machine he is)

“This oughta buy me some time,” the young Jedi muttered to himself in relief, while he watched the reinforced foundations of the giant suspension bridge stretching across the gouge of which he found himself at the bottom begin to give way.

He strained every muscle in his body, sweat pouring in thick globs down his forehead as the sandstone structure rumbled and whined in protest, cracks appearing in intricate patterns as they traveled and expanded rapidly along the eroded sides. The suspension cables stabilizing the viewpoints that had been carved into the natural overhang of the rock at either side of the bridge’s anchor points had already snapped under pressure. Picking up tremendous speed, the man-made platforms came hurtling down both sides of the canyon - and with them gushed an abundance of loose boulders, rocks, pebbles and sand knocked free by the sheer power of impact. A cloud of golden brown dust rushed past the young Jedi, who fought to keep his eyes open and ignore the grains blurring his vision with tears and mud.

A tiny but sharp rock struck the side of the Jedi’s cheek hard enough to draw blood, and he winced, faltering momentarily but quick to regain his bearings. His gaze remained fixed upon the top of the bridge, and the supporting pillars shouldering its ornate design against the bedrock lining the sides of this artificial crevice mined in the sandstone. Once, this canyon had functioned as a floodgate system, the only reminders of its glorious past now being the saltwater dam waiting several miles downhill. That, and the dry, dusty and cracked salt lake desert resting beneath the young man’s feet. This had been yet another attempt by the Empire to exploit and deploit a new, untouched system for its natural resources. The flood delta upstream was all but dried out, its ancient trackways drained, abandoned and littered with wildlife carcasses. Yet another ecosystem destroyed by Imperial greed.

But Jedi Knight Jarl Oda hadn’t come to Jansenn to become an environmental activist, although he had been tempted to at the very least severely cripple the Imperial machinery ruling the system more than once. No, Oda had come to seek refuge. Like any other survivor of the temple massacre - if there were any left, and he’d like to prefer he was not alone when compared to the alternative - he had seen the message recorded by master Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’d narrowly escaped unseen, lingering clone troopers discussing their plan to execute all Jedi on sight aloud. Following a direct order, gunning down their own generals. Their own friends.

It was shocking, but Oda had never taken to blindly trusting the clones - master Krell had seen to that. In his formative years, and during the war, that had been considered a fatal flaw by the council. He had often butted heads with fellow Jedi Knights like Aayla Secura or Anakin Skywalker over his unwillingness to rely upon his troops. Now, he was beginning to think himself lucky for his suspicions. His master may have been punished, unjustly Oda would like to believe, for refusing to humanize expendable soldiers. He had survived only because of that inherent doubt in their reliability.

Finally, as Oda twisted both palms upwards; he took a wide stance for maximal leverage, closed both fists, and tugged. Hard. With unwavering determination and with everything he had in him, narrowed eyes still focused on the looming, black clad figure atop the bridge. The ominous shadow of a man didn’t move, even as the structure beneath his feet came undone in slow motion. He didn't seem particularly concerned by imminent death, not even when the final fortification shattered and the bridge came crashing down.

Oda was prepared for the shockwave when tonnes upon tonnes of solid rock collided with the manufactured flood bed; salt crystals propelled like projectiles in every direction. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was just how powerful the impact would be. The Jedi had no time to steady or brace himself as the first shockwave set him off balance, and the second sent him flying. The cloud of debri whirled past him in a flurry, dragging his helpless body with it and Oda instinctively covered his face with both arms for protection.

The sound came a millisecond later. Earsplitting. A deafening explosive crack, like the roar of a thunderstorm and the detonation of a thousand bombs combined. The Jedi covered his ears with a whimper when pain pierced his ear drums. An ominous, distinct pop followed closely by a shrill, high pitched ringing settled in his temples and muted any further noises like a swab of cotton. Panting, the young man found himself feeling quite a bit less confident even as he groggily managed to get up on his knees. The dust cloud kicked up by the bridge’s collapse disoriented him, both sight and sound reduced by the blast. His body ached, and his arms trembled from the sheer extersion of bringing down such a large structure. Oda had never attempted a similar feat before, and had never even imagined he might need to.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, Oda at least figured he had time to recover. No one could have survived a two hundred foot drop into a durasteel reinforced salt lake canyon, with a fifty foot overpass crashing down on top of them. Not even this menace, whoever he was.

He had hunted Oda through the vacant landscape of Jansenn for 48 hours without yielding. The hunt had begun as a creeping suspicion, as a foreboding sensation of being watched. The Jedi had no clue who his assailant was, but rumours spoke of Imperial Force wielders trained specifically to trap and dispose of any remaining Jedi stragglers. Oda had made several good friends in the underbelly of the Galaxy these past couple of years since the fall of the Republic. Perhaps he had become careless, or perhaps the vigor with which the Empire pursued Jedi had grown exponentially. Either way, Oda had a target on his back and a price on his head that not even his friends could erase. It had been a matter of time, but he hadn’t expected these assassins to be so relentless in their pursuit.

Coughing, Oda spit up a garbled mix of salt crystals, saliva and blood. His head was spinning, and he staggered backwards when he stubbornly got up on his feet. The moment felt like it had lasted an eternity but it couldn’t have been more than half a minute. Even in his disoriented state, the Jedi noticed that the topmost sheen of debris was already fading, carried away by the dry acrid winds overhead. But that wasn’t what bothered Oda and drew his attention. As he wiped his nose, attempting to stall the gush of blood trickling from the left nostril, the colour was left drained from the man’s bruised face.

The entire midsection of the expansive, collapsed walkway appeared to be hovering. Oda blinked rapidly, not believing his eyes and with a growing dread setting in, he tried to write it off as a hallucination caused by sudden head trauma. As if whatever external force that was manipulating the levitating wreckage had read his mind; the thick fog of obliterated gravel, sand and salt perforating the air seemed to settle in an instant. There was nothing natural about the way in which every single airborne particle of dust laid down as neatly as if someone had smoothed it out with their hands. In an instant the air was crisp and clear. The sun’s blinding light spilled into the canyon, reflected by billions of salt lake crystals. With one, single synchronized swipe, a serene peace settled as the rubble littering the bottom of the complex was brushed aside to create a perfect pathway. Oda didn’t want to look, but he already knew the culprit behind the inexplicable bending of physics.

Where only a collapsed bridge should have been resting, crushing its passenger under its weight - stood the man Oda had hoped to destroy. One of his large hands was aimed in Oda’s direction, palm open facing him. The other was raised to about eye level in a tightly clamped fist. There was a slight tremble to that one balled hand, but in its Force grip, the man had successfully both blocked and abruptly stopped the remains of the falling bridge mid air before they could even touch the bottom of the canyon. Around his imposing figure laid the shattered marble pillars, the stone railings that had lined the walkway in pieces. Suspension cables hung from the carved sandstone that had supported the viewing platforms. In the midst of the chaos, the majority of the demolished structure remained suspended just a few feet above the mysterious man’s domed black helmet.

Oda could only stare, mouth wide open in horror. His feet seemed nailed to the ground. His eardrums still burnt, but the ringing had begun to subside and the uncanny, eerie silence of the scene was tense and overbearing, suffocating. Shifting slightly, the large, imposing figure of a man on a mission that stood before the young Jedi began to approach. His strides were slow and meticulous, but he didn’t falter. Oda’s gaze remained transfixed by the large chunk of stone still floating freely; its vast shadow blocking out the sunlight.

“Did you believe dropping a bridge on me would be a sufficient way of stalling my advances? I am afraid I must disappoint you. Now, shall we see how you enjoy a similar treatment?” the man rumbled, his voice sharp and its bark was a sinister warning.

Oda instantly realized what it meant, and he did his best to flee on wobbly, unsteady legs as the strange assassin crouched. The man brought his arm back to take perfect aim and in one flawless heave - he hurled the remains of the bridge at the boy full force. The distance was enough to allow Oda to dodge the majority of the formation heading for him, even as it broke apart along the way - but it was not enough to completely escape the explosion that sent shattered rock and gravel raining down on him when its proponent collided with the lake bed. Tumbling, the enormous limestones that had decorated the walkway seemed to chase the Jedi with unfathomable speed for something so substantial.

Oda glanced back, confident he was in the clear when he noted that he was gaining. He thought he might get away despite the burning in his lungs and the taste of iron and copper welling up in his throat - the salt he had inhaled scraping his airways from the inside. He even dared to smile - only to stumble on an unexpected depletion in the ground ahead. With a yelp, the Jedi lost his footing and tumbled forwards onto his palms and knees. Unable to break his fall, he rolled around; the sharp salt tearing holes in his clothes, digging deep into his flesh. A sickening pop and a snap was followed by a wet crack, and Oda came to a sudden stop.

Pain shot up the young man’s spine as he was unceremoniously pinned in place. Adrenaline pumping, Oda twisted halfway around and through the agony he soon realized that his right leg was locked in a vice between reinforced canyon floor and a chunk of the bridge’s support pillars.

The Jedi gulped down the urge to throw up, blood gushing from the multiple spots on his body the salt lake’s unforgiving bed had ripped up and rubbed raw. Nausea struck full on, as he attempted to push the remnants of what was once a craving appropriating the planet’s local population’s cultural, decorative art off of his mangled limb. To no avail, Oda’s hands shook and refused to stay still, blood painting the palms a deep crimson. He was trapped, backed into a corner, tears welling up in his eyes as the monster responsible for his suffering appeared over the crest of this brand new ridge of fallen rock he had created.

The man was impossibly tall, broad shouldered and carried himself with a dark pride. All black, his cape billowed behind him like a pair of giant wings as he crossed the distance between them with one leap. The grace behind it was jarring when linked to the man who had performed the feat. The man appeared to be regarding his handiwork, and there were no signs of strain or struggle within him. It appeared as if the immense power that fuelled the impressive Force wielding he had just performed didn’t so much as phase him.

“Let - let me go… I don’t h-have anything! I’ll disappear, just p-please,” Oda heard himself brokenly sniveling in between sobs and sniffles - put face to face with his own mortality, he found himself pathetic.

“You are as cowardly as every other Jedi. Tell me, how does it feel to look death in the eye?”

There was no malice or direct spite in the man’s deep voice, his wheezing respirator serving as an unwelcome third part invited to witness this mocking display. It triggered some kind of memory, but Oda couldn’t say what it was. Instead, the Jedi focused on the monster’s stoic face plate and how it seemed to emulate something akin to disgust, or distaste despite its perpetual aloofness.

Oda realized he was being treated if he wasn’t human, as if he was just a pest or a vermin this sinister man was looking to exterminate before continuing going about his day. The Jedi could picture this menace of a man going home as soon as he’d been dealt with, and never again think of him. Never again deliberate on his fate, never regret his death. Tears poured down the young man’s bruised, cut up cheeks, and he shook his head vehemently.

“Please, I - I’ll do anything…” he begged in vain, voice cracking mid sentence.

“You have nothing to offer me. I have no use for you, and even if I did, you would be the last person I would consider worthy of making an exception for.”

The man’s montone, almost bothered delivery changed with an uncanny ease. Suddenly, there was a tangible sense of contempt seeping through his mechanical, synthesized vocals.

“I… do I know you? I don’t understand.”

Oda had never sensed such unhinged, unadulterated hatred spilling from another human being. It was enough to taint the monster’s entire Force signature; infecting it like a virus, and the Jedi realized he had never in his life come across someone so deeply connected to the Dark Side. Still, as the tidal wires of agonizing pain continued to send his nervous system into shock and meltdown - the anguish only serving to heighten his awareness of this man’s loathing - the young man found himself perplexed through his terror. Something told him this was a personal vendetta.

A Sith Lord, master Krell had said once. When you meet one, you’ll know. That’s what this nameless, faceless menace was. A Sith Lord.

“No. You do not know me, and you never will. But I know you.”

The Sith Lord drew closer, with a superhuman speed to his calculated, menacing approach. Oda tried to rear back, but with his leg crushed, he could do nothing but whine as agony washed over him and kept him incapacitated. The Sith seized the young man’s temporary weakness as an opportunity, placing one large, heavy booted sole over the Jedi’s heaving ribcage. As the assassin applied pressure little by little, Oda gasped - finding himself nearly unable to draw breath and the panic that had been threatening to overtake his senses broke through.

“I don’t - no - I---” he tried to reason and plead, but his executioner-to-be would have none of it.

“Master Yoda would not have taught you this, but I happen to believe in an eye for an eye. And while it would be decent of me to play fair, I have good reason not to. You owe me an arm, but I believe I will take… your life.”

Oda’s eyes widened as he stared right into crimson red lenses of the face plate covering the Sith Lord’s face. It all came rushing back to him. The lectures in the temple halls, the relentless bullying he had spearheaded. He’d just been a kid himself, he hadn’t enjoyed the new kid’s natural talent with the Force. He hadn’t enjoyed the attention the kid had received, he had been driven by a childish jealousy. He had thought the boy had gotten over it, as they grew up.

Yes, Oda might have accidentally broken the kid’s arm in a wrestling match. Yes, he might not have meant it when he’d said sorry and apologized at the time. Yes, they had gone on missions together when they had both been knighted. Yes, they had shared some sort of friendly connection on Ilum. Still, the kid had always been prone to holding grudges til the end.

Heart dropping into the pit of his belly, the Jedi instantly realized the identity of this Sith Lord. He didn’t doubt he would have died even without the personal connection, and it all made sense. Of course it was that kid who had turned on the Jedi council and their teachings. Of course it was that kid who had slaughtered the younglings in cold blood, who had brought about the Empire’s rise to power. Of course it was that kid, whomst master Kenobi would never sell out by name. That kid, who was excused and forgiven again and again.

Of course it was Anakin Skywalker.

[dibleopard-writes]

A Chosen One by Any Other Name

Fandom: Star Wars Prequels Characters:  Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine, Mace Windu Rating: Gen Warnings: None Word Count: 1,983 Summary: “Whether or not the child really is the Chosen One as Qui-Gon believed is irrelevant. What matters is whether or not everybody thinks he is the Chosen One." The title of Chosen One brings with it the sort of  attention you wouldn't want on a nine-year-old. Obi-Wan Kenobi is the  obvious choice to replace him in the line of fire. Part 1 of Decoy, Prophesied Also on Ao3

“Whether or not the child really is the Chosen One as Qui-Gon believed is irrelevant. What matters is whether or not everybody thinks he is the Chosen One. To have such a legend overshadowing his every move will put him at a disadvantage and will draw attention from forces we don’t yet know.”

“The Sith?”

“If they really have returned, then it is likely, but there will also be interested parties where you least expect it, with machinations we aren’t in a position to truly understand.”

Obi-Wan nodded, stopping himself from jerking at the absence of his braid shifting with the movement. His feet hurt from standing for hours at the funeral but the alcove that Master Windu had pulled him into had no seating nearby. “How do you propose we solve this issue?”

“Whispers of the Chosen One have been circulating since Qui-Gon made his claims in the Temple last week, and after his recent achievements the Council believes that it would be difficult to erase the rumours completely. Especially since Skywalker himself knows.”

Qui-Gon hadn’t been known for his subtlety, and Anakin struck him as the sort of boy who would latch onto any sense of self-importance thrown his way after a life of slavery. Obi-Wan couldn’t quite blame him – he himself held onto as many of Qui-Gon’s compliments and words of praise as his memory allowed. Nevertheless, such grand destinies were paths to egocentricity and arrogance and Obi-Wan feared himself unequipped to temper them.

Master Windu continued, “Master Yoda and I have considered the options and we have arrived at a proposal to you: you take on the title of Chosen One. Redirect the attention. As far as everyone who has any investment is concerned, your defeat of the Sith assassin was the proof we needed to confirm that you are the Jedi of prophecy, not Anakin Skywalker.”

Obi-Wan found himself at a loss for words. Him? How would anybody be convinced that he was anywhere near good enough to be the Chosen One? “And what about Anakin?” he asked.

“Skywalker simply has an unusually high midichlorian count, much like Master Yoda. Such power could only be trained by the Chosen One. That’s if you still want to take him on as your padawan.”

“Oh, ye- yes, of course, of course I do,” he murmured, trying to wrap his mind around it all. Training Anakin was not a question, but stringing along the Order, the Senate, the Galaxy in this self-aggrandising deception was so ridiculous that he wasn’t entirely sure that this wasn’t some sort of test. “But what if he is the Chosen One?”

“Then he can get on with fulfilling the prophecy without anyone trying to sway him from his path for their own gain. Having a title does not a Chosen One make. Besides, even without the prophecy he’s still one of the most Force-sensitive people on our records; he won’t exactly be starved of reputation.”

Intricate moulding decorated the wall behind Master Windu, but Obi-Wan’s eyes were drifting beyond it as he tried and failed to solidify the nebulous thoughts orbiting within his head.

“I’m not sure I’m…” he scrambled for a word that wouldn’t make his concerns sound irrational, “... capable of living up to the expectations of the title, even as a decoy.”

If this was a test, he should have passed it with his humble concern. If it wasn't, he hadn’t declined the orders of the highest ranking Jedi on the Council, simply urged them to reconsider.

Unfortunately, Master Windu already seemed resolved on the matter. “Who else can say that they’ve successfully defeated a Sith? Even Yoda can’t claim that much; you’re the first in a thousand years. Quite the qualification.”

He dropped a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, the one that his braid had once covered, “We understand that you may need time to think about it. Preferably, we’d start our rumours at the parade tomorrow so try to get your answer to us by noon. May the Force be with you, Knight Kenobi.”

“And with you, Master,” he replied as he was left alone in the dimly lit guest halls of Theed Palace.

…

Obi-Wan woke with the sun, which fortunately rose at a civilised time of morning at this time of year at Theed. Anakin, unused to the way interplanetary travel interfered with one’s circadian rhythm, was still asleep after Obi-Wan had showered and dressed, although perhaps it was exhaustion after his taxing week.

The boy ate his breakfast in his sleeping clothes, feet swinging under his chair, blond hair in noticeable disarray. He looked up and caught Obi-Wan staring. “Aren’t you going to have anything?”

Obi-Wan blinked. “No. Maybe later.”

“You can have some of mine,” offered Anakin, nudging his plate of toast towards Obi-Wan’s empty place at the small table. One piece had several bites missing, but that was hardly an issue for people in situations like Anakin’s – or parents used to children insisting on trying food they barely ate, as Obi-Wan had learnt on several missions during his apprenticeship. He wondered if he too would have to eliminate any aversion to sharing germs. Perhaps he was already there, because his stomach objected more to the thought of food than what had been done to it.

“I’m not hungry, Anakin, you have it. I can get some later.”

Anakin shrugged, “If you say so.”

Time passed and Obi-Wan found himself staring again, although he was seeing very little. Anakin was regarding him out of the corner of his eyes as he finished his breakfast.

“I think,” Obi-Wan began, earning himself full attention, “Once you’ve finished we should sort out your hair.”

Anakin nodded slowly, confusion written on his face.

“It’s traditional for padawans to have a certain haircut. Short,” he gestured to his own hair, “And with a padawan braid,” his hand tried to grab it but met air, resulting in an awkward miming that he aborted quickly.

“Like yours?”

He nodded mutely.

“Wizard,” said Anakin before crumpling his final half-slice of toast into his mouth in a terrifying display and asking, “Can we do it now?” through a spray of crumbs.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Obi-Wan stood and took the dishes. “Yes, yes, I suppose so. I’ll need to go and find some clippers, though.”

“Can I come with you?” Anakin was bouncing on his toes, suddenly invigorated out of the morning’s sleepiness. 

“You’re hardly dressed to venture the Palace halls, are you?”

“I might be!”

“No. I’ll get them, you stay here and take a shower.”

“But I just had one yesterday!”

Obi-Wan tugged on his boots. “And you’ll have one today; you need to be presentable. If you don’t want to use the water, there’s a sonic right next to it.”

Anakin sighed, long-sufferingly, as Obi-Wan moved out of the door.

“I shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes; I want you clean by then.”

Was this what his life was to become? A negotiation for every benign task, another mouth to feed, another life to look after? He had only got himself out of bed on autopilot, his mind weighing heavy and lethargic with grief. His life had changed irrevocably in a thousand tiny ways in the space of a week – and in a few massive ways in the space of a day. The tide of it all was too strong to ignore, it would crash down on him eventually, but for now there were things to do, and he let the distractions buoy him like driftwood.

He was barely halfway down the hall when he was intercepted by the newly-elected Chancellor Palpatine.

“Ah, Master Jedi, I was just coming to see you and young Skywalker. I do hope your accommodations were satisfactory.”

Obi-Wan plastered a diplomat’s smile on his face, “Of course, your excellency, it was more than we would dream of asking.”

“Not at all, Padawan Kenobi. Rather, it was the least the Queen and myself could offer to the heroes of Naboo.” Chancellor Palpatine’s face was friendly and his eyes smiled with the rest of him, but there was an undercurrent that Obi-Wan couldn’t place. “Tell me, is there anything you were searching for out here? You aren’t expected at the parade until this afternoon.”

“I was just looking for some hair clippers, nothing quite of your station, Chancellor.” He grinned the way one did while trying to make polite jokes at a political function and Palpatine’s smile remained even as he turned to walk beside him, hand on his shoulder.

“Well, I’m sure we can find something that will be of use to you.”

“Oh, there’s no need–”

“Nonsense, my boy. I’ll admit I’ve been wanting to talk to you and young Skywalker since yesterday, but it didn’t seem to be the time.”

“Is that so?” He noticed the way his voice had already been subdued by grief at even a vague mention of Qui-Gon’s death. It was unbecoming. He cleared his throat.

“Why, of course,” replied Palpatine, steering him into an indistinguishably ornate room, “I have much to thank you for. As well as, of course–” and here he sighed sadly while investigating the various drawers– “to enquire about your thoughts on this… assassin who hunted the Queen and infiltrated the palace without so much as an alarm to alert us of his presence”

Perhaps he should have thought the topic of the Sith to be inevitable, but it hit him in the lungs to hear it spoken about as if it was little more than an abnormal security concern. Sith was a word to be whispered. It was perfectly constructed to be hissed in low voices. They had grown complacent in the Sith’s absence, used the word loudly, as curses and insults. Obi-Wan knew that once he was back in the Temple, it would be relegated back to whispers, at least for as long as it took for people to forget this time on Naboo, so distant from their lives and yet already a fulcrum of his.

Palpatine didn’t say Sith, so neither would he.

“We know very little, unfortunately. It was a Force-user trained in lightsaber combat. It was dark. Powerful.”

A contemplative nod, then, “Do you think he was targeting the Queen specifically? Is she in danger of further attacks?”

“It’s hard to say; his motives were unclear. He was easily distracted by Jedi both times he appeared, and both times the Jedi and Queen Amidala were together. Perhaps he intended for her to die, perhaps he was after us all along and she simply happened to be with us.”

“Do you think he could have been targeting the boy?”

Obi-Wan looked up sharply, but Palpatine was still searching through drawers, clattering their contents about. “What?”

“I’ve heard young Skywalker must be rather special to be accepted into the Order at such an old age, and he is obviously rather talented to destroy the Trade Federation’s command station almost single handedly.”

“He’s certainly special,” he conceded.

“There are rumours,” Palpatine continued, “That he is to fulfil an old Jedi prophecy. ‘The Chosen One’, I believe the term was.”

Frozen, Obi-Wan realised what the undercurrent beneath Palpatine’s good-naturedness was: silence. It was hard to place, hard to define, hard to be sure of, but the sinking certainty in Obi-Wan’s throat confirmed it. There was not necessarily anything wrong with silence, but there definitely wasn’t anything right either.

“Ah, here it is,” declared Palpatine, raising some clippers into the air. He handed it to Obi-Wan, who couldn’t help but meet his eyes too intensely to be polite. Already, the words were spilling off his tongue, a night of anxious insomnia behind them, slowed to an audible speed only by a decade of practice.

“I’m afraid the rumours have been rather tangled, Chancellor.”

“How so, Padawan Kenobi?”

“Knight Kenobi,” he gritted out, “And it’s because Anakin is not the Chosen One. I am.”

[ninasfireescape]

The ‘Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker’ review no one asked for

I wanted to enjoy it. I really did.

I was one of the people who didn’t dislike The Last Jedi. Sure, I didn’t love it. When I watched it, I thought it was too long and had made certain characters choices I wasn’t too happy with, but overall it was enjoyable and left me feeling satisfied. It was not as good as The Force Awakens however and hearing JJ Abrams was returning, I thought he might be able to restore the final episode to its former glory.

That indeed seemed like the case for the first hour. The gang were back together, it was quick-paced, I had an emotional investment in what was going on (and it seemed like they were taking the Finnrey route I wanted them too). I couldn’t exactly follow every plot specific but does that really matter in Star Wars when it’s so exciting? The bit on Star Killer base was genuinely inspired, I was laughing away at once again what terrible shots the stormtroopers were and at Hux being the spy. Every scene with Lando in was gold.

It was just after they got to the water planet that things started to go wrong. I’m not sure quite what it was exactly that made it so disappointing from this point onwards. Perhaps the gang splitting up or the rather horrifically done Leia death scene. I know they didn’t really have much choice with what footage they had but having watched each member of the original trio died, this death was devoid of emotion and predictable. And she died to make Kylo Ren hesitate for one moment. What a waste!

Then the pointless force ghosts! Seeing Luke was nice but it felt like he was just there to add clunky explanation since the plot made so little sense at this point. And when Han appeared, I actually laughed. It was so inconsistent with the tone of the film and he appeared all while Kylo Ren was standing in the middle of a stormy sea that he could fall into at any moment, right in the most climactic section of the film, just to have a conversation with the son who killed him! It was the most outrageous example of a fan service cameo that just didn’t assimilate with the rest of the film.

I don’t actually have a problem with Rey Palpatine. If anything, I thought it was really cool she was a Palpatine. I really didn’t want her to be a Skywalker because I felt it would be predictable and repetitive. Her being a Palpatine also sends the message to young viewers that blood relations don’t make a family which I think is very important for children to hear. Honestly, the only problem I have with it is that it means some poor lady had sex with Palpatine. I agree that it was a ridiculous retcon of The Last Jedi but then I didn’t like the reveal about her parents in TLJ anyway because of how it was executed. Another thing that bothers me about it is the utter lack of information we get about Villanelle Rey’s mother. Already we don’t know much about her father other than that he’s Palpatine’s son but with her mother, we get nothing. With Rey having wondered about who her parents were for so long, surely it would make sense for her to want to know more about her mother and maybe even take her surname in place of ‘Palpatine’. I also firmly believe Rey’s mother should have been played by Hayley Atwell because she looks so much like Daisy Ridley. And while Jodie Comer is an amazing actress, I think 1. She deserves a bigger role in the Star Wars franchise and 2. Her casting as Rey’s mother exemplifies Hollywood’s fear of casting older actresses as mothers. A twenty six year old as a mother!?

About Zurii, I always appreciate new female characters in Star Wars and I thought she had a great design. However, it is blatantly clear what her purpose in the film was. It was to stop people calling Poe gay, inserting a female character for one scene (she barely spoke in her other scenes so I’m not counting those) with no backstory of her own, just to prove he is attracted to women. Well, first of all, he can be bi, secondly, that’s not going to stop people shipping Finnpoe at all. I didn’t clock until afterwards when I saw people talking about it online, but it was super problematic to make Poe a former drug dealer. Sure, the only Latino character in this trilogy. Also, it in general complicates the little we know about Poe’s backstory so far.

With Rose, all our worst fears were confirmed. She just wasn’t there. She appeared in a couple of scenes and had some lines but you’d think she was no more than another miscellaneous rebel, no more significant a role than Billie Lourd’s character. Did they really give into the white fanboy pressure? How could they erase Rose when she was such a good character? She was tough and fought strongly for her beliefs, but she was also compassionate, sensitive. Now, I never particularly shipped Finn and Rose in TLJ. I thought it seemed a bit of a rushed romance and Finn didn’t seem that invested in the kiss they shared. However, you can’t just pretend they didn’t kiss in the last film. They interacted a few times but there was no sense of any bond between them. Where there relationship stood was unclear. Were they now a couple or had they had an offscreen conversation where they decided they were better off as friends? Who knows?

And now onto the worst part of the film: Kylo Ren and more specifically that kiss. Gross. Okay, to be clear, I wasn’t entirely opposed to a redemption arc for Kylo Ren. Sure, it would be predictable, but it’s not like Kylo Ren’s crimes are any worse than those of Darth Vader and he was still capable of redemption. I liked Kylo Ren as a villain. He perfectly depicted that type of whiny, entitled white man who we see so commonly in real life, but again, he could have achieved some redemption if it were implemented correctly. What we got in the film was not this. He was still committing genocide at the start and carried out one good deed which was saving the woman he had a crush on. For this one good act, he was entirely forgiven and somehow all of the genocide wasn’t his fault. And he got rewarded with the woman! If anything, I’d call that act selfish since he only wanted to save the woman he liked. Adam Driver did the best he could with it but everything about it was awful. And it was out of character for Rey to kiss him and forgive him. She stabbed him little more than half an hour earlier! At the end of the last film, she slammed a door in his face. It makes no sense to me how she could suddenly be so invested in him becoming a better person. There’s also the fact that wasn’t included in the films that Rey and Kylo Ren are related (aunt and nephew to be exact). I wasn’t aware this was Game of Thrones! And according to Wookiepedia, Rey was 18 at the start of the films and is now 20 whereas Kylo Ren is now 30. A ten year age different would be fine if Rey were older but at this point, the age gap is uncomfortable and very borderline.

If they’re going to make the claim that it wasn’t actually Kylo Ren who was doing the evil deeds but some dark force corrupting him, they should have explained how the mechanism works. At least in the prequels, we got some sense of Anakin slowly being corrupted. To me, it reads like in some horror films when the abusive characters are found to have been possessed by demons or something. It trivializes abuse which is something very real, acting instead as if no abusers can actually be responsible for their actions and it is the cause of some supernatural force instead. I suppose the kiss doesn’t have to mean anything. After all, Leia and Luke kissed in the original trilogy and Finn and Rose kissed and apparently that meant nothing.

I firmly believe the series intended a Finn and Rey romance. Lest we forget The Force Awakens, Finn awkwardly asking Rey if she had a boyfriend. That was clear coding for him having a crush on her. In that film, the two developed such a strong bond, and they have so much more chemistry than Rey and Kylo Ren ever had. All the scenes with Rey and Finn (and Poe) were full of light and emotion. The scene at the end where the three of them hugged was honestly the high point of the film. Now, when I left the cinema, what was plaguing my mind the most was that throughout the film, Finn had a secret he wanted to tell Rey. It was first suggested when they thought they were going to die in the quicksand. “Wait, Rey, I never told you!” It had to be that he loved her. What else could it be? Supposedly, it was that he was force sensitive. I don’t believe that for one second. If he needed to tell her that, why couldn’t Poe be included? And why did he never get the chance to tell her? It was a build-up I got invested in with no payoff. It must have been that he loved her. So, if that was the case, that leaves us with two options. Either there was a Finnrey subplot that got cut but they forgot to cut these scenes out (or simply couldn’t be bothered to), or they thought it would be funny to have the black supposed male lead chasing after the white female lead who didn’t love him back because she was instead in love with the genocidal white villain. I ship Finnrey so much and find the second option so horrific but I wouldn’t put it past the writers. Finn played such a significant role in the first half of the film, as he should since he’s meant to be the male lead in the series, but after that, he was dangerously underutilized. At least the ending where no one ends up with each other is compliant with my headcanon that Rey, Finn and Poe (and I don’t mind Rose being in the mix too) all end up married to each other and adopt a bunch of porgs.

And lastly, the lesbian scene. Pathetic. We don’t know the character names and I can’t even find out who the actresses were that played them. Okay, they kissed which is a pretty big deal (even though kisses apparently mean nothing in Star Wars) and it’s certainly a step forward from the Avengers: Endgame ‘’’’representation’’’’, but it’s still rather useless considering the big deal JJ Abrams made about how there would be representation.

[padawanlost]

do you ever think about how padme gave anakin mixed signals in aotc? its no wonder he was confused? also when do you think padme fell in love with hime in both the movie and the book?

Yes, shedid send “mixed signals” but it was not on purpose. It’s not like she wastrying to toy with Anakin. Padmé was conflicted and it influenced how she actedaround Anakin. She wanted him but she didn’t allowed herself to admit it andthat’s why she kept getting closer to him at the same time she kept pushing him away.

As for whenthey fell in love. Well, Anakin and Padmé always loved each other. At firstwith was that platonic, innocent love children have for their friends. As theymet again as adults that love took another, more adult, form. I think thetransition – from platonic to romantic – happened first to Anakin. Padmé wasalways on his mind so as he matured so did his love. When they meet again in  AOTC Anakin has already convinced himself he’sin love with her. For Padmé, the transition begins when she seems him as anadult. After that first meeting she already begins to wonder about him in amore romantic/physical way and as they spend time together she gradually fallsfor him.

Padmé satat her vanity, brushing her thick brown hair, staring into the mirror but notreally seeing anything there. Herthoughts were replaying again and again the image of Anakin, the look he hadgiven her. […] She saw him again, in her thoughts. And clearly. Her mental eye roamed over his lean andstrong frame, over his face, tight with the intensity that she had alwaysadmired, and yet with eyes sparkling with joy, with mischief, with … Withlonging? That thought stopped the Senator. Her hands slipped down to her sides,and she sat there, staring at herself, judging her own appearance as Anakinmight. After a few long moments, Padmé shook her head, telling herself that itwas crazy. Anakin was a Jedi now. [R.A. Salvatore’s Attack of the Clones]

In spite of Padmé’s determination to forgetabout Anakin’s kiss, she couldn’t. The memory kept returning at odd momentsduring the day when Anakin looked at her — and sometimes, when he didn’t lookat her. She should,she thought, have been annoyed. [Patricia C. Wrede’s Attack of the Clones]

Padmé satback and considered this moment, this day, and her companion. What was happening here? [R.A.Salvatore’s Attack of the Clones]

Anakinfinally managed to roll her over and pin her, and Padmé stopped struggling,suddenly aware of the closeness. She looked into his eyes and felt the press ofhis body upon hers. Anakin blushed and let go, rolling away, but then he stoodup and very seriously reached his hand out to her. All self-consciousness was gone now from Padmé. She looked hard intoAnakin’s blue eyes, finally and silently admitting the truth. She took hishand and followed him to the shaak, which was grazing contentedly once more.Anakin climbed onto its back and pulled Padmé up behind him, and they rode offacross the meadow, with Padmé’s armsabout his waist, her body pressed up against his, a swirl of emotions andquestions spinning about in her mind. [R.A. Salvatore’s Attack of theClones]

Padmé jumped at the sound of theknock on the door. She knew who it was, and knew she was safe—from everything but her own feelings. The afternoon atthe meadow replayed in her thoughts, particularly the ride on the shaak, whenAnakin had taken her back to the lodge. Forthe minutes of that ride, Padmé had not hidden behind a mask of denial, orbehind anything else. Sitting behind Anakin, her arms about his waist, her headresting on the back of his shoulder, she had felt safe and secure, perfectlycontent and … She had to take a deep breath to keep her hand fromtrembling as she reached up for the doorknob. [R.A. Salvatore’s Attack ofthe Clones]

Anakin’sshoulders and not behind the horizon, as if he was big enough to dismiss theday. Orange flames danced about hissilhouette, dulling the distinction between Anakin and eternity. Padmé had toconsciously remember to breathe. She stepped back and Anakin sauntered in, apparently oblivious to the wondrous momentshe had just experienced. He was grinning mischievously, and for somereason she felt embarrassed. Shewondered for a moment if she should have chosen a different outfit, for theevening dress she was wearing was black and off the shoulder, showing quite abit of flesh. She wore a black choker, as well, with a line of sheer fabricrunning down over the front of the dress, barely concealing her cleavage. [R.A.Salvatore’s Attack of the Clones]

She wanted him to kiss her, so desperately, and it was precisely thatout-of-control sensation that had stopped her cold. This was not right—she knew that in her head, despite what her heartmight be telling her. They each had bigger responsibilities for the timebeing; she had to deal with the continuing split of the Republic, and he had tocontinue his Jedi training. [R.A. Salvatore’s Attack of the Clones]

The lodgewas perfect for security purposes. Unfortunately,it was perfect for other things, as well. She couldn’t pretend not to seeit anymore: Anakin did care for her. And the more time she spent with him,especially here, where some of her happiest childhood memories were, the moreshe cared — Stop that, she told herselffirmly. You have important work to do. You don’t have time to fall in love.But being firm didn’t stop the empty feeling in her stomach, or keep her fromfeeling … happy when she saw him come around a corner unexpectedly. And itdidn’t erase the memory of that kiss — She heard a rustle of movement andlooked up as Anakin bent toward her. He’sgoing to kiss me again, she thought, and even as she turned her head away, sheknew she wanted him to. “Anakin, no,” she said, and the words came out sadinstead of firm and decisive. [Patricia C. Wrede’s Attack of the Clones]

“I’m notafraid to die,” Padmé told him. She looked down. If ever there was a time fortruth, this was it. She couldn’t lie toherself anymore, and she certainly couldn’t lie to Anakin, not even by keepingsilent. [Patricia C. Wrede’s Attack of the Clones]

Padméleaned against her restraints and craned her head forward, and Anakin didlikewise, the two coming close enough for their lips to meet in a soft andgentle kiss, one that lingered and deepened, one that said everything they both realized they should have spoken toeach other before. One that, to them, mocked their false heroics in denying thefeelings they’d had for each other all along. [R.A. Salvatore’s Attack ofthe Clones]

[aifsaath]

Counterclockwise I

FIRST I NEXT I AO3 I 

Chapter I Trade All Our Tomorrows

“We’re launching in three…”

Anakin’s hand was shaking, as he gripped the controller; his knuckles almost turning white, sweat covered his left palm, the right one awkwardly scratched across the surface. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t dwell on your fear, Master Obi-Wan used to say, as if it was so easy. But he was not there, not anymore.

“Two…”

Master. Anakin forced himself to focus, blinking away tears. There was no time for that. Qui-Gon Jinn entered the final sequence into the navicomp.

“One.”

Engines roared flaring up. Hundreds of tons of steel set into motion. Behind the hangar gates he saw only the starless indigo of Coruscanti sky. The ship took off, flashed through the hangar, flew above the roofs of the city, leaving the cacophonic life behind. Higher and higher. Acceleration rushed blood into fingertips. For a few seconds, his vision went black from the pressure change. But it did not matter. He could fly the ship even blind, with one hand strapped behind his back.

Only now, far above the planet the world made sense. Back in the Temple he was lost. A boy with no name and no history. A Padawan with no Master. A castaway stranded in the past.

He had a purpose now.

Get to Melida/Daan.

Find Obi-Wan.

Bring the bloody idiot back before he got himself killed.

. . .

Ever since Anakin had woken up the other day in the Halls of Healing, eighteen years in the past; ever since the Council had explained what had happened to him – and he had thrown up and fainted when they had told him – he had grasped in desperation at the few people whom he trusted across time.

Anakin had attempted to contact Qui-Gon but with no avail; the Master had been kept busy on a long-term mission to Velmor. And Obi-Wan had been gone, gone, gone. Too many times he had tried to reach his Master through their bond. But on the other end he had found only echoes of his own mind. There was no Master Kenobi in this strange universe. Obi-Wan Kenobi was only seventeen. A stranger and a renegade.

“The Order the boy left. Principles of the Jedi he abandoned.”

There were of course rumours. Obi-Wan Kenobi joined the civil war on Melida/Daan. Obi-Wan Kenobi turned in his lightsabre and never looked back. Obi-Wan Kenobi betrayed the Order. Obi-Wan Kenobi Fell. Obi-Wan Kenobi died.

Anakin had no idea what the truth was. Obi-Wan never shared his history. Anything Anakin had learned about his Master’s past he had had to put together from shards stolen from eavesdropped conversations, from the rare mementos Obi-Wan had kept in their quarters, the little clues hidden in his smiles, in the people he had been friends with – or in the people he used to be friends.

But no one had ever mentioned anything about Melida/Daan.

Master Plo had taken him under his wing. For the following weeks, he had been the most patient, gentle teacher Anakin could ask for, and even though Plo could never understand his grief, he had allowed him to come to terms with the loss in his own way.

(“You must understand, young one, that there is a great possibility you will never return.”)

Five weeks after the accident that had brought him to this time Master Plo had announced Anakin had been to serve Master Jinn as a pilot on his way to Melida/Daan.

. . .

The ship entered the surreal glow of the hyperspace. At last, Anakin could let go of the controls. It felt as if he peeled the skin off his palms. Tremors returned to his left hand as unease flooded his veins once again. His right arm, cold and mechanical and dead. Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his seat; only now he noticed the sheen of sweat covering his brow. He wiped it off, the motion jerking and uncoordinated.

“I was told you were an experienced pilot,” Qui-Gon said. The familiar crow’s feet already stretched around his eyes–  Anakin remembered his first impression of him: This nice man laughs a lot. But he could not put a finger on what was so different about his face. “Is this your first flight?”

“No, Master. I know how to fly. I’m just- “

“Scared?” Something bittersweet lurked in the man’s smile. Anakin recalled that soft quirk of his lips; he had worn it right before they had set on their journey to Naboo, a few days before his death. And then that smile had been erased forever the very moment Obi-Wan had walked out of the hangar into the blinding light of the day, cradling his lifeless body in his arms, his face pale and blank. “What are you afraid of, Padawan?”

Everything was the answer but Anakin could not tell him that. He opened his mouth, he was suffocating, the truth tasting bitter on the tip of his tongue; only waiting to slip. That he had fallen back in time. That he was the youngest of his line. That Obi-Wan would return to the Order. That Qui-Gon had saved him – but not his mother, never his mother –  and died. That they both missed him so much it hurt. That there was not a day he did not remember him with the wistful longing for a father.

“I’m not scared, Master Jinn.”

“I can’t quite believe that.”

He offered him a weak smile.

“I know how to fly. I’ve passed through this route hundreds of times.”

“And yet you look now like a drenched tooka.”

He wanted to confess, and wished for a reassurance that everything would be alright. He needed to hear Qui-Gon’s calm voice telling him to focus on here and now. He would understand. He would know what to do.

(But Anakin had promised Windu, Yoda and Plo he would keep his circumstance secret.)

“Heh, do I?” His voice sounded too strained even to himself. “My master used to say the same.”

“Well, your Master was right. You do bear uncanny resemblance to a wet feline,” Qui-Gon said. And then, as if he realized a detail that had escaped his attention before, he gave Anakin a curious look.

“You wear our djenna.”

Djenna. Every line of Jedi had one. The token of belonging to each other. The mark of generations of apprentices. The only way a Jedi expressed the sentiment closest to what a real family was.

Centuries ago, when Yoda had accepted his first student, he cut their hair short leaving only the nerftail and the braid. It was the humblest of marks. It did not accentuate beauty, nor it boasted pride of one’s blood heritage. And yet, years came and passed and Yoda’s line bore still the same djenna.

(Everyone hated the hideous haircut and Anakin submitted to it only because he wanted to look like a real Padawan.)

“I’m a part of Yoda’s line. Or…” He gulped. “Well, I used to be. My master died and Master Plo took over. He was so kind he allowed me to keep this djenna as a keepsake.”

“That was… very kind of him,” Qui-Gon murmured. He reached to touch the tip of Anakin’s braid. “I didn’t know our branch had another young leaf.” There was something achingly parental in the gesture. (Mom used to do that. She touched his braid. Ani, is that you? She asked and then she did not breathe anymore, cut to pieces, pale and so light in his arms and – and he had to stop thinking.) “Nor did I know our branch lost another one.” A last touch, a slight tug before he tucked his hands back in his sleeves.

“It was a secret mission. If I could tell you anything, I would…”

“But it’s classified.”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

Qui-Gon turned back to the transparisteel, shadows playing over his face. “Mind the ship, Anakin.” His voice sounded hollow. The conversation was over.

. . .

Three days passed before they reached Melida/Daan. Qui-Gon kept mostly to himself meditating in his cabin, leaving Anakin alone on the bridge to steer the ship through the hyperspace. If they met, it was only during the mealtime. Anakin tried to draw the man into a conversation – he would welcome any topic, really – but the closer they got to their destination, the more closed off Qui-Gon became.

Surrounded by nothing but the blinking machinery, starlight dusting the never-ending void and his own mind. He was going to go mad for sure.

Stop being dramatic, Master Obi-Wan would have said. You have never been a paragon of sanity to begin with.

. . .

From the high orbit, Melida/Daan looked like any other terraformed planet. Unremarkable, with snow caps covering the poles, banks of clouds moving lazily around the coasts and raging above the seas. Blue oceans, green plains and forests, ochre deserts. Dots of light glistening across the nightside. Nothing to bear witness to the reports about the civil war atrocities.

As soon as they entered the medium orbit the communicator started buzzing.

“Blue Crescent station Yirt-Zerek-Besh-Three-Oh-Five calling. You’re entering the planetary no-fly zone. Please identify yourself and state the reason of your presence.”

“Jedi Order asks for the permission for landing,” Qui-Gon answered. “We’re sending you the ID sequence. We’ve come on your request regarding a member of the Order in the holding of the native forces.”

Anakin froze. No one had told him that Obi-Wan had been captured.

“ID confirmed. Permission to land on the coordinates provided is given. ETA one hour.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Anakin?”

Not him too.

Not like mom.

“Anakin, are you listening?”

No.

No.

“Anakin!”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Qui-Gon’s face loomed over his and Anakin realized with a distinct feel of disbelief that his nose was a lot straighter than he remembered. He felt the warm touch of the Force, surrounding him, attempting to calm him down. Like a blanket suffocating flame. Irritated, he shook it – him – off. What gave Qui-Gon the right to do something so intimate?

“Sorry. I’m good. Really.”

“This is the second time you’ve dozed off, Anakin.”

That was rich coming from him, the boy thought bitterly. It was not Anakin who kept hiding in his cabin the entire time just to avoid the possibility of a talk about Obi-Wan. It was not him who for some unknown reason left his own Padawan on a war-torn planet.

Again, the boy looked at Qui-Gon. What happened, he wondered.

Anakin did not doubt that if it were him who was stranded on a hostile planet, Obi-Wan would spend most of the travel time composing a long speech about braindead risk-taking idiots, unleashing the tirade the very first moment Anakin was safe. (The longer the speech the more he was frightened. Once, Anakin had managed to freak out Obi-Wan into a two-hour long lecture after he had pulled a dangerous aerobatic manoeuvre that had nearly ended up in a disaster if it were not for his sheer dumb luck. “Force sensitive or not, when the ship explodes it means shit, you imbecile!” Obi-Wan’s voice still rang in Anakin’s ears and it hurt, hurt, hurt.) But that would never happen. Obi-Wan did not even want to allow him a solo mission to Naboo, let alone to leave him anywhere on his own for more than a week.

“It won’t happen again.”

Anakin manoeuvred the ship towards the equator. The landing coordinates pointed to the location nearby the largest bay on Daania continent.

He run his fingers across the keyboard, entering series of landing commands. To lower the power of the drive in, to up the shields to protect them from the overheating as they enter the atmosphere. Slow pressure change.

After he finished the task, he allowed himself another look from the viewport. They were close enough to see the craters left by heavy bombings that had left the land scarred. What used to be towns was empty now, with no signs of life. No light. Blackened stains in the middle of jungle.

“What happened to that mountain range? North of that river? It… it looks like a huge chunk of it is missing. It can’t be right, can it?”

“You mean Orovissa mountains?” Qui-Gon frowned. “The war has been raging on this planet for centuries. Orovissa happened to be the hiding place of third faction armies fifty years ago. And the easiest way to deal with them was to carpet bomb the whole area.”

The knight paused. His face was unreadable, mind hidden behind the shields. But Anakin noticed the way his fingers trembled as he reached to the transparisteel as if he longed to caress a lost reflection.

“It’s only thanks to the Republic’s forces seizing the ship supplying plutonium to both of the warring sides that there is any planet left.”

And I’ve left my Padawan in that madness hung in the air, unsaid.

. . .

The landing was unremarkable.

Hot, humid air bore the scent of sea and ash and pine trees. Sun was setting – the east side drowned in deep indigo, the west played with the shades of blinding yellow and red. Birds chirping to the hum of the sea. A group of Blue Crescents approached the ship. They came from the camp a few hundred meters further up north from the landing platform.

Where Jedi acted as diplomats and special units, Blue Crescents provided the basic healthcare and manpower necessary to rebuild the infrastructure. Their military department served as a buffer between warring sides, often supporting Jedi in their peacekeeping missions, as the Order had not yet hold any army of their own.

In Anakin’s time, Blue Crescents had been long disbanded after series of sentient trafficking scandals. The tarnished reputation had been impossible to improve. Never again, the media had sworn and despite numerous attempts there had never been reinstated any organisation with such overarching influence as Blue Crescents had been. Instead, all the Galaxy had turned to Jedi with their pleas for help. It had not mattered that they had been already stretched thin. It had not mattered that they had no resources necessary for solving anything without the Senate’s direct support.

Nothing had mattered in the end and the Senate had given them soldiers to command and sent them to war anyway.

And here they stood, five years before Blue Crescent’s fall from grace. Anakin could not decide between disgust or relief.

“Commander Rina Omaya,” the middle-aged Zabrak woman saluted.  “I’ve been informed about your arrival, master…?”

“Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“Am I right to assume you’re the legal guardian of the Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“I am… I was his Master, yes.”

“Was?” She pursed her lips. “Has the Order made all the legal steps of expelling the boy?”

“As far as I know, not yet.”

“Good. Because what we need to do wouldn’t be possible otherwise. Shall we, Master Jedi?”

As they walked towards the camp, Commander Omaya seized the moment to introduce Qui-Gon to the current situation. Perhaps in any other time Anakin would have paid attention to their conversation – but not now, not when he could stretch his senses and feel the familiar presence in the distance.

A candle in a winter night. A Naboo firefly. A lighthouse in a sea of misery. Lost in the crowds of people, almost unrecognizable among all their fear and pain, but Anakin would know him anywhere.

The refugee camp extended few clicks in diameter, surrounding the Crescent’s military base. Both Melida and Daan had their outposts set next to the base. Soldiers – Blues and the local forces – entwined through the masses, blasters ready in hands. Provisional shelters were crammed with people. Vehicles crossed the narrow paths, filling the air with dust and racket. Everyone was talking; the cacophony echoed in Anakin’s ears making him nauseous. Someone walked past him, their shoulders brushed, and his nostrils were filled with the stench of sweat and piss.

Everyone was hungry and afraid, and he could not tear himself from the phantom sensations of their suffering.

This was not a place for a Jedi.

“We’ve been here just for a month,” he heard Commander Omaya’s voice as if he were under water. “There have been five or six attacks so far. The situation is still… not fully under control. Please, sit down.” She pointed to the set of a field table and stools. “We need to talk, Master Jedi. Meanwhile, my aides will bring Kenobi.”

Both Jedi lowered onto their seats. Two of Omaya’s companions disappeared in the Daan base. Commander handed Master Jinn a datapad.

“Do you have any idea why we contacted you, Master Jinn?”

“You’ve got a hold on my former Padawan and you want to know the Order’s stance on his actions.”

“You’re almost right. No, I think I know that young Kenobi’s actions aren’t viewed… favourably in the eyes of Jedi. The boy is rather convinced that the Order will refuse to help him.” She frowned. “He asked me to keep any information about him away from your Order. Something about shame.”

“Why did you refuse?”

“Because what Kenobi asks for is a pointless suicide. Both sides want his head. If it weren’t for the fact that we’ve seized the control over the planet, he’d have been executed.” Exhausted, she run her hand down her face, wiping off the sheen of sweat. “He’s not even eighteen. According to the Coruscanti law he’s a minor. And even then – we can’t allow Melida nor Daan to use him as a scapegoat. Not when it’s thanks to his group that we could bring at least some kind of order into this shithole… Everything is in his file. We need you only to reclaim your custody and get him away.”

Qui-Gon was about to reply when something else caught his attention. Anakin turned around to see.

The two aides were back, joined by a few Daan soldiers. And in the middle of blue and grey uniforms stood out the dirty beige of prison wear. Obi-Wan walked with his head held high, seemingly ignoring the shackles on his limbs, the Force supressing collar around his throat.

The last time Anakin had seen his Master, he had been a man in the peak of his health. Obi-Wan had never been a large man, but he had always been strong. Wide shoulders and lean muscles, firm thighs and calves. He had not tanned easily, but his skin had always born the healthy, reddish tint. Full cheeks and dimples. His face had been made for a smile.

Nothing prepared Anakin for the sight of seventeen-year-old version of the man. Clothes hung from the thin frame; he had a few centimetres still to grow and twenty kilos to gain. His lip was broken and still bleeding. Shadows set under his eyes. Cheeks hollow. Auburn hair reached to his chin, matted and unkept. No Padawan braid. Anakin muttered a curse when he noticed the burns covering Obi-Wan’s forearms and hands.

“You came back.” His voice was almost drowned in the camp noise. Hopeful. Scared. Hysterical.

Obi-Wan’s eyes roved between Qui-Gon, whose face resembled more a mask than a living flesh, and Anakin. What he saw visibly distressed him, as he turned even more pale, steps faltering. One of the soldiers pushed him into the empty seat, nearly tripping him over.

“Obi-Wan.”

“Master Jinn.”

Anakin knew that careful, blank expression and did not like it one bit.

“So, Master Jinn,” said Omaya. “Will you take him back to the Order?”

“I need to read his file first.”

Everyone kept silent, as Qui-Gon flipped through the pages, eyes skirting over the text. Anakin sensed Obi-Wan’s anxiety rise and seep into the air and through the skin into his own brain. He felt like storm, a hurricane, empty in the middle. Raw wound. It almost hurt to be so near him, only an arm length away, just a touch to make sure he existed. He was his brother, his friend, the only guidance in the last ten years of his life, and he hurt hurt hurt.

Qui-Gon turned off the datapad.

“Is there anything else I need to know?” He sounded so tired.  “Any evidence? Witnesses?”

“As I said, everything is in his file.” Omaya folded her hands neatly on her chest. “Of course, feel free to ask for anything else. It’ll be provided, if we can.”

“Do you want to add anything to defend yourself, Obi-Wan?”

“What is there left to say?” Obi-Wan said, the ugly emptiness never leaving his eyes. “You’ve already decided.”

“Force may mercy on you, boy, don’t you realize what you’ve done?”

“Better than you.”

“Please, take this seriously, Padawan.”

“I’m no Padawan, Master Jinn, or have you forgotten? No one brought shame on the name of the Order. Because there was no member of the Order. Isn’t this what you want to ensure?”

“I’m not joking, you fool. What you’re accused of- “

“I did what I had to do!” Obi-Wan snapped. “I stayed when you washed your hands and left! Yes, I fought in a guerrilla! And you knew I had to do that, you knew what the risks were! We weren’t a party of murderers you want to paint us like. We were trying to get the civilians out of the crossfire! Half of the Young died! I had to bury a five-year-old child who had starved to death and there was nothing, nothing to do! Does the file mention that?”

“It does, actually,” Qui-Gon said. “There is also a mention of a factory you and your friends blew up. Is that true?”

“It is.” Obi-Wan spat. He was out to hurt his master. “The factory in Sirasenna. The largest producer chemical weaponry of mass impact on Melida’s side. Most of the workers were prisoners of war. And we blew it up.”

Anakin blinked. Qui-Gon went paper-white.

“You… There were people inside… You fool…”

“Master Jinn, I have to ask you to please not- “Omaya attempted to dissuade the tension but she was too late.

“AND I TRIED TO GET THEM OUT!” Obi-Wan roared. “You’ve got no idea what it was like! You weren’t there. None of you. But they – Melida locked the gates… There was no way to help or to stop the fire…” He started hyperventilating.

“Obi-Wan, calm down!”

“I won’t! I won’t!” The boy was screaming now. “How dare you come here and accuse me of what you had no guts to do?! You gave up! I did what I had to do to save as many- “ He choked up. He looked as if he was just about to vomit.

“Jedi are no soldiers. This was not your fight!”

“Enough!” Omaya pounded on the desk. “The prisoner needs a medical attention. Take him to the medics.”

The Daan soldiers grabbed Obi-Wan by his arms. There was no gentleness in the motion, no care for the wounds. That was it. He could not watch this anymore, he decided and stood up.

“I’ll go with him.”

“This isn’t the Order’s matter,” the soldier said. “Until your Master gives the word, Kenobi is still our prisoner. And the protocol says that he’s still in our full custody. So, step aside, Jedi.”

Perhaps the man was trying to intimidate him. Perhaps a few months ago that would have worked. But Anakin had faced Dooku and survived. The petty asshole in a uniform was nothing compared to that.

“Yeah. And as far as I know, the Republic law forbids torturing prisoners. And I recognize a fresh burn when I see one.”

“You have no authority here,” the soldier straightened his back.

But Qui-Gon had a different idea.

“Can the Padawan oversee Obi-Wan’s treatment as a neutral party, Commander Omaya?”

“Yes,” the Commander said. “And he should. Meanwhile, let’s discuss the situation, Master Jedi.”

. . .

It took a mind trick with a stronger intent lurking behind to push the soldiers out of the office and wait behind the closed door. Obi-Wan’s torso played with every colour. The medic’s hands were quick, as he checked for bruising and welts, and applied bacta all over them.

Anakin wanted to cry.

The first weeks of his life in the Temple had been marked with a frantic need to learn everything. About the strange new world he had been casted into. The customs alien and exhilarating. Knowledge of the Force, ancient and tasting of secrets and might.

But the most important thing for a child to know was the young man whose hands took care of him. Anakin-the-child had seen numerous times his Master’s bare back. Pale skin with a net of long-healed silver scars, scattered like letters on parchment. A book he could not read until now.

He longed for a touch. To wrap his arms around the half-familiar boy just to make sure he was real. That it was truly a physical reality, not a mirage he wished into existence.

The doctor excused himself. He was needed elsewhere. Anakin nodded in understanding. They could wait. Obi-Wan did not bother to cover himself. He sat there in the chair, slumped.

“I’m sorry for the argument outside.”

It was the first time he spoke to Anakin.

“You shouldn’t let my disagreement with Master Jinn affect your apprenticeship. I’m sorry. Truly.”

Anakin eyed him, curiously. And then it dawned on him, he was such a fool. No wonder Obi-Wan thought that, when he paraded around with the djenna he himself had worn only a short time ago. Just to rub salt in the wound.

“I’m a part of Yoda’s line, but my Master was someone else.”

“Oh.” Something broke in him, in them both. “He – he didn’t…”

“Obi-Wan, he wouldn’t betray you like that-“

That was the wrong thing to say as Obi-Wan curled even more into himself. Seconds passed in utter silence until Obi-Wan drew a sharp breath. Anakin watched him trying to fight back the sobs – and lose the battle.

“I don’t want to go back,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I can’t go back. I betrayed everyone. I did horrible things. I can’t return into the Temple and look in their eyes. Nothing clean is left in me.”

Anakin forced himself to move. He knelt before his master. He hated feeling so powerless. Therefore, he did what Padmé had done for him that horrible day on Tatooine, when he had been full of filth, inside out.

Embracing him was awkward at first, as Obi-Wan’s whole body stiffened at once. But slowly, when Anakin opened himself, to let his own warmth seep into him, he melted in his arms.

“Cry it out,” Anakin whispered. “I’ve got you.”

They had precious few minutes of privacy. Obi-Wan held onto him like a lifeline. Nails digging into the flesh and steel as he cried his heart out. Anakin muffled the sounds with his clothes. Obi-Wan deserved at least to keep his dignity.

“You’ll be alright. It seems impossible now, but you’ll be alright …”

It sounded like a lie to both. But it helped, at least for the moment. And then the doors opened and the soldiers marched in.

“You never told me your name.”

“Anakin.”

For @icsek

[icsek]

Ch. 2 Losing Balance

This time, when he woke he was no longer in the Hall of Healing, he actually didn’t know where he was, the room as bare as a cell but the walls a glaring white and covered with padding. It was much too bright for him, the sharp ache between his eyes and throbbing temple making him feel nauseous. He reached out with the force to help ease the pain only to find that he was unable to touch it. Now he felt the force suppressing collar around his neck and the panic only fueled his confusion. Last he remembered he’d-, the pain grew into agony the more he tried to remember. His mind was blank about the last place he’d been.

“Anakin, calm down, you’re just hurting yourself.” Master Luminara was there, pressing a cool hand to his forehead and helping to ease some of the pain while soothing the worst of the panic.

“Where? What?” He croaked, now able to feel just how parched and scratchy his throat was.

“You’re at the Temple, Skywalker, in one of the holding rooms in the Mind Healer’s ward. You experienced some mental trauma and memory loss when you returned from your latest mission. When we tried to help, you were delirious and incoherent. You kept trying to attack us so we were forced to bring you here and break your connection with the force.”

He vaguely remembered the anger and fear swelling within him, trying to lash out at something, but the memory was fuzzy and incomplete. At least he’d made it back from wherever he’d been, it wasn’t too surprising that he didn’t remember. After Ahsoka had left the Order, he’d thrown himself into mission after mission to keep his mind occupied. They’d all started to blur together even before whatever had happened, happened.

“Water?” Having anticipated his request, she helped him sit up before bringing the straw to his lips. The water felt soothing on his throat and helped rid the gross feeling in his mouth that came with being asleep for too long. He drank the entire glass before pulling away. “Can you take the collar off now?”

Master Luminara frowned and shook her head, “We’d prefer you keep it a few days to let your mind heal before we take it off. The trauma was rather severe and we need to perform some healing before you’re ready to cope with access to the force again.” She smiled sadly at him.

“There’s something you aren’t telling me, Luminara.” Even without the force, he could feel that she was leaving something out.

“They didn’t want me to tell you this so soon, but I feel not telling you will do more harm than good.” She sighed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder before continuing, “Whatever happened to you, it severed your bond with Obi-Wan.”

Shock reeled through him, a memory of frayed ends and a gaping nothing flooding back to him with more pain. He winced, rubbing his temples in an attempt to ward off the phantom pain. “I… remember. Sort of, at least of the bond snapping. It hurt. Is Obi-Wan ok?” Whatever pain he’d felt, he knew his former Master would’ve felt as well.

“Master Kenobi is fine. He had a bad headache and he was dazed, but he was at the Temple and we were able to stave the worst of it off. A few days rest and he was fine.” She brushed the bangs from his forehead and he felt the soothing touch of healing in his head again.

“Can you have him come by?” He felt like he needed to apologize for something, though what exactly was apparently part of the memory loss.

“I’m sorry, Anakin, but with your bond being severed after so long, it was decided that you two should be kept separate just in case the bond tries to re-form on its own. Your mind can’t handle that right now and you’re no longer his Padawan so it’s not needed anyway. It’s why we’re keeping you here, the room, too, is shielded. Now get some sleep, someone will be by to check on you later.”

Exhaustion blanketed him, the effort of just the simple conversation having drained him of any remaining energy. He let himself drift back into the comfort of sleep.

The observation room was silent, each seemingly holding their breath as they watched Anakin drift back into sleep. Relief was evident on most of their faces as was exhaustion. Luminara joined them after performing a final check of Anakin’s vitals.

“Does it seem to be holding, Master Luminara?” Mace was the first to break the silence.

Luminara sighed, “For now, but he’s as cut off from the Force as possible right now. The real test will be when we start to reintroduce the connection. This is a good start compared to the others, though. And there’s still the other question of how much memory we’ve blocked, but the only one, other than Skywalker, who could really be a judge of that would be Obi-Wan.”

“Fragile, Skywalker’s balance is still. Centered around Obi-Wan, much of his balance is.” Yoda shook his head, “Allow them together, in a few days we could. A good test of the mind block, it will be.”

“And if it fails again?.” Plo asked.

Mace stroked his chin in thought, “We’ll do what we must.”

The Temple had always been a place of peace and relaxation for Obi-Wan. He’d never been able to understand Anakin’s claims of it being a stifling place until now. Everywhere he went there seemed to be someone or some issue needing his attention. While he was grounded from the front lines, the Council was keeping him busy with teaching youngling classes and performing official Council business that ‘only he could do.’ He knew what they were trying to do, but it was only helping so much.

At least no one bothered him in his new quarters, not that he was there for more than sleeping purposes. All those years he spent complaining about Anakin interrupting his sleep with his snoring or midnight tinkering or eating, he wish he could take them back. It was too quiet, too clean, both in the quarters and in his head. Especially in his head.

Obi-Wan sighed and stirred his tea, trying not to let this cup grow cold like the last two had. It had been weeks since their bo-, it, happened and he no longer suffered from migraines. He’d still not been allowed to see Anakin after the first time.

The Council made him sit out on any discussions of what would be Anakin’s fate. He only knew of their plan once they informed him of their decision.

Anakin’s fall had been confirmed by four different Jedi Masters, the dark side curled around him like a dog waiting his master’s orders. He stared them down with hate-filled yellow eyes and screamed at them that it was all their fault. That they had taken Obi-Wan away from him.

When Obi-Wan had went to visit, Master Plo had pulled him aside and tried to give him warning of what to expect. Even the warning didn’t prepare him for what he saw.

The room had been stripped of everything except the bed and bolted down table. There were sizeable dents in the durasteel walls where things had made hard impacts, more than likely with the Force. Anakin was bound to the bed with Force-proof cuffs. His eyes were closed, but quickly opened when Obi-Wan took a few steps in the room.

“Ma-Master?” Anakin looked so hopeful that Obi-Wan’s heart clenched. The yellow seemed to fade from his eyes, but it could easily his mind playing tricks on him.

All he wanted to do was run his fingers through dirty blonde curls, to hold him tight like he had when he was younger, but he knew he had to resist. He’d been sent here for a purpose, “Yes, Anakin.”

Tears started to flow, “Why did you let them, Master? Why don’t you want me anymore?”

Every ounce of discipline and willpower he had went into keep his Jedi Master facade up and to keep his voice steady. He was grateful for the room’s shielding as he knew his were faltering under the onslaught of his own emotions. “Anakin, you haven’t been my Padawan for five years. We were supposed to have done this years ago. I thought that it might fade on its own, many training bonds do, but you relied heavily on it.” He patted Anakin’s bound hand awkwardly, “Attachment is not the Jedi way and you weren’t able to let me go as you proved over the last few missions. It is past time for us part and go our separate ways.”

Fury battered Obi-Wan’s pitiful shields, fury and hate. He knew the feel and taste of Anakin’s emotions, knew just how powerful he could be, but the pain of a bond starting to forcibly reform drove him to his knees, unable to do anything about it. “Anakin, control yourself, please!”

“I HATE YOU!” The cuffs around Anakin’s wrists sparked and fizzled out. Lights overhead began to flicker and the table groaned as it shuddered under the uncontrolled fury.

Belatedly, Obi-Wan realized that someone was shouting his name or shouting for help. He wasn’t quite sure, the pain in his head overwhelming his senses until it all turned black.

The Council had forbid him access to Anakin after that episode, but the damage had been done. Anakin was considered too dangerous, too powerful to keep contained so the Council had made the decision to block and erase his memories around his attachments. He was needed for the war effort, they couldn’t afford to lose him, so this was their best solution. They would perform the mind block and forcibly drain the darkside energies from his body and aura.

Except the first one didn’t take. He’d nearly brought down the entire Healing Wing in his fit of rage when he broke down the mind block. The second one was much the same although it took hours instead of minutes. The third had seemed to hold until they had slowly allowed him access to the Force. Now they were on their fourth attempt, more than had been done on a person in over a millenia. It was a testament to Anakin’s mental fortitude that there was still some of him left.

Still, the reports from Master Luminara were promising. They’d made cover memories this time to explain the loss of bond and the distance between him and Obi-Wan. Master Yoda had pulled some of Obi-Wan’s own memories to help form the new ones and to make them familiar.

A part of him still whispered that it was his fault any of this had happened. He’d not been a good enough Master to Anakin, he’d not taught him the lessons he needed to learn, that he had encouraged the attachment because of his own feelings-

He cut off the rest of that line of thinking, it wouldn’t solve any of the issues at hand.

If this mind block didn’t take, Master Plo had informed him that Anakin would either be forced through another round of the mind block or sent to the Citadel. The Council hadn’t been able to make a decision one way or the other, the vote split evenly in half since Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed to vote. Either of the choices were a death sentence for Anakin. He’d be killed if he was sent to the Citadel considering he the majority of the residents there. If they tried a mind block again, he’d more than likely end up a hollow shell of who he was.

The beep of his comm startled Obi-Wan out of his thoughts, “Kenobi.” He didn’t bother to switch on the holo function, more than likely it was just another Council member with yet another task for him to perform.

“Good evening, Master Kenobi. I do hope I’m not disturbing you.”

The sound of Padme Amidala’s voice brought a brief smile to his face, “Not at all, Senator. It’s always a pleasure to hear from you. Is there something I can do for you?”

A brief hesitation in her response and he knew what she was calling about before she even responded, “I haven’t heard from Anakin in a few weeks since I saw the both of you after the Senate session. We were supposed to have dinner together one night while he was still planetside, but he hasn’t returned any of my comms. Was he redeployed?”

There was no way he could tell her exactly what had happened or Anakin’s current status. Which presented another issue, he had known they were involved for years and overlooked it as them simply finding comfort with each other. What he hadn’t known was exactly how involved they were. Their secret marriage had come to light when the Council had broken through Anakin’s tight shields and sifted through his memories.

Still, she was owed at least somewhat of an explanation, especially since Anakin would no longer remember their marriage or love. At least give her the opportunity to grieve and move on.

“Are you free right now? This isn’t a conversation I would like to have over the comm.” He might as well get it over with now.

“Yes, I’m at my apartment if you would like to come over. I’ll have Threepio prepare some tea for you.” It was a testament to her ability as a politician that she didn’t sound affected by his response.

“Thank you, I will be there shortly.”

All in all, his meeting with the Senator had went better than had expected. Obi-Wan had given her the vague cover story the Council had made up about his absence. He broke the news about Anakin’s memory loss from an attack while on mission in the lower levels as gently as he could. He assured her that Anakin was healing and with the best Mind Healers the Jedi had, but that the loss was permanent.

Padme had looked pained, but relieved and thanked him. It was then that he carefully explained that the Order knew about their marriage and that they would help her have it annulled quietly. He tried to be compassionate as he told her she could no longer contact Anakin and to treat this opportunity as a second chance. She had broken down at that point, crying and confessing that their relationship had been failing anyway with all the secrets.

It was her next words that had made him shatter too.

“He always loved you more than me, Obi-Wan. He loved the idea of me, and to some extent, he did love me, but it was as someone to protect and shelter. He always held back with me, scared to hurt me. You, he loves with everything, as equals. I was so jealous of you that I pushed the marriage in an effort to make him choose between you and me. It’s always been you, it always will be you. Just as it has always been him for you. Take this second chance, Obi-Wan, and don’t let him go.”

Everything clicked into place then. The strength of their bond, their ability to seamlessly fit together, their perfect balance together. Anakin wasn’t just his best friend, brother, and former padawan. Anakin was the other half to his soul and he’d willingly let them be ripped in half.