#I wonder what ever happened to kitster?

[star-wars-fashion]

Outfit for Kitster Chanchani Banai

Alexandre Mattiussi Fall/Winter 2017

[tennessoui]

If you're up up to it, how about obikin and 42?

yes!!! Prompt 42 is Star-Crossed Lovers, but star-crossed lovers are soooooo out now. 'Crossed the stars to be lovers' is IN, baby!!

(2.7k)

Someone has left a letter on his bunk. Obi-Wan as a rule doesn’t get letters. Actually, as a rule, Obi-Wan has never wanted to receive a letter in his entire life. They all have datapads for a reason, and it’s because they’ve evolved past the need for flimsi and ink when there are means at their disposal to deliver messages near instantly.

So no, Obi-Wan has never wanted to see a letter sitting on his bunk. He finds the whole thing rather trying, actually, the Flimsi Friends program the Jedi Order established fifty standard years ago in an attempt to connect their Jedi with others across the branches through letters. Obi-Wan had scorned the idea as an Initiate living comfortably in the Temple on Coruscant, and his opinion hadn’t really changed once he began his tenure at the AgriCorps.

Kabre notices before anyone else. “Oh, hey! Obi-Wan’s got a letter.”

“Finally,” Aldran grins, craning his neck from where he’s collapsed on his bunk. “We only signed you up months ago.”

“Really, you shouldn’t have,” Obi-Wan says. “Really.”

“Oh, come now, little Obi,” Kabre pats him on the head. Obi-Wan is twenty-five and of a perfectly average height, but Kabre is close to three heads taller than him and of an indeterminable age. “Think of it as an opportunity to strengthen your connection to the living Force.”

“Through the Flimsi Friends program,” Obi-Wan deadpans, raising an eyebrow up at his peer.

“Getting letters from Susa is the highlight of my week,” Aldran tells the ceiling dreamily.

Obi-Wan shares a commiserating eyeroll with Kabre. “That’s because you’re in love with her.”

“Who wouldn’t be? She’s so sweet and kind and pretty and she has all these stories from her adventures in the ExploraCorps--”

“Alright, who got him talking about Susa?” Lathrum asks from the door, sighing in exasperation as he makes his way over to his own bunk. “It’ll be a standard day before he’s done.”

“Hey!” Aldran gasps, offended and already close to sulking. “Whatever. Fine. Everyone’s just jealous that Susa and I are in love because y’all are never going to find something nearly as good as we have.”

“Obi-Wan finally got a letter from the program,” Kabre announces to Lathrum. “We were just saying that he should at least try to be excited.”

“Yes, perhaps you’ll meet your own Susa,” Lathrum smirks, peeling off his dirt-covered tunic. His next words come out muffled. “Force help us if that happens.”

“No need to worry,” Obi-Wan says dryly, picking up the letter and studying it. “They appear to be a youngling.”

“A youngling wrote you?” Kabre asks, barely restrained glee in his deep baritone.

Aldran guffaws from his bunk. “Well now you have to write back!”

“Knowing your luck, it’s probably a youngling from the Jedi Temple,” Lathrum says. “Dear Obi-Wan, Today someone chose me to be their Padawan and I’m one step closer to being a Jedi Knight. How are your plants doing?”

“Yes, alright,” Obi-Wan shakes his head, smiling slightly. He had met Lathrum when he was fourteen and still bitterly disappointed about his new position at the AgriCorps, and Lathrum has never let him forget it even after all these years.

He sits down on his mattress and pulls out the letter. It’s short at least. The handwriting is atrocious but the spelling is worse.

Dear Obi-Wan,

Hi! My name is Anakin Skywalker. I am nine years old. How are you doing today? My master says I have to write this to practice my spelling. I think not everyone can learn Basic, but he says I have to and that all Jedi masters know how. I didn’t ever know there was all this stuff I have to do to be a Jedi. I’ve been here for weeks now and I still don’t have my lightsaber!

I think the temple is really weird. It’s so big and cold. I miss my friends back home. Me and Kitster would go crazy exploring this place but no one here wants to play with me. Master Jinn says not to worry and I’m not! The temple is just really big and I’m cold all the time and I miss my mom. Master Jinn found me on Tatooine and took me here to make me a Jedi which is great, but everyone here already knows each other and I don’t think they like me much. I know the Jedi Council doesn’t. They didn’t even want to train me but Master Jinn inzi--incis--said he would.

Do you want to be friends?

Would you explore the temple with me?

Write back soon please,

Anakin

“Well?” Kabre asks, when Obi-Wan finishes silently reading the letter.

Obi-Wan sighs and rubs a hand over the jagged penmanship. It’s all too obvious that this Anakin Skywalker is...painfully young, churlish and childish and achingly lonely.

Obi-Wan sighs again, harder, as he looks up at his bunkmates. “Where do we keep the blasted flimsi?”

---

Dear Anakin,

Thank you for your letter, it was very nice to read. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m 25 years old. I hope you are settling in at the Temple better by the time this letter finds you. I have to admit I was very surprised to hear that you are nine years old and have been allowed to train to be a Jedi. That’s unheard of. I’m sure you’ll be an excellent Jedi. There must have been a reason your master chose you. The Force wills it and it will be.

It is understandable to miss your mother and your old home. When I became a member of the AgriCorps, I spent the first few months missing the Jedi temple on Coruscant a lot. It was the only home I ever had. But we make others as we go. The Temple is big and I suppose very cold compared to a desert planet--I looked up Tatooine here and there wasn’t much information, but I could never live somewhere with two suns! I’d be burned to a crisp in a matter of hours.

The upside to the Temple being big is that there are a lot of hiding spots and footholds for climbing. Try the pillars in the entrance hall. They connect to each other. My friends and I would run around on top of them for hours, although I think that was mostly because we were too scared to get down. You should ask Knight Eerin about it, or Knight Vos. They’re usually in the Mess Hall if not the Halls of Healing.

I’m sure Master Jinn has you busy with meditation and classes, but I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Best,

Obi-Wan Kenobi

---

Dear Obi-Wan,

I was really excited to get your letter! I didn’t know it would take so long but it’s been ages! So much stuff has happened. I finally finished my remedial classes and Master says we can focus more time of katas now! I can’t wait to learn how to fight! And Master Windu smiled at me the other day when he saw me in the hall because Master told him about my grades!

I asked Knight Eerin about you and she showed me some pictures she had on her datapad of you when you lived at the Temple. You look really pretty cool! I have blond hair and blue eyes if you were wondering. My mom always said she thought I was going to be really tall. What do you look like now? What do you do at the AgriCorps? Why did you leave the Temple? Knight Eerin says you need to give her a comm call soon. She didn’t sound very happy.

I made a friend! Knight Vos’ padawan was there when I talked to him about what you told me, and she came with me to go exploring! She’s so cool. She’s been helping me with my katas too.

Apparently I won’t get my lightsaber for years! That’s so long!

Anyway I have to go and do my reading now but please write back faster this time, Obi-Wan!

--Ani

----

Obi-Wan never reacts quite as happily and dramatically as Aldrin does when he sees a letter from Anakin on his bunk in the evenings, but over the years everyone learns not to disturb Obi-Wan on those nights.

The first letter Obi-Wan receives from Anakin after the boy turns eighteen includes his commlink frequency hastily crammed at the bottom of the page. If you want, Anakin has scribbled.

“Finally,” Obi-Wan jokes when the line connects and Anakin answers breathlessly. “No offense to you, dear one, and you have come quite a ways since you were a youngling, but your handwriting is still atrocious. I’d much rather talk to you like this than try to puzzle out what you’ve written.”

Anakin splutters and then stutters out in a voice slower and deeper than Obi-Wan had expected, “I didn’t know you had an accent, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan finds that he likes that voice saying his name in that way.

That’s the first sign of trouble.

----

Anakin sends a photo of his knighting ceremony. Obi-Wan wants to cry with pride. His friends tease him about it relentlessly. “You look like I did the day I married Susa,” Aldrin crows and takes a picture of Obi-Wan’s blushing, laughing face. Later, Obi-Wan reluctantly sends it to Anakin.

“I’m jealous of your friends,” Anakin confesses with an exhale of static. “They get to see you everyday.”

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, unable to say more. Unable to admit that he’s thought the same thing about Anakin’s master at the Temple. Unable to deny it though.

They move onto safer topics, ones that make Obi-Wan’s chest feel less tight.

----

���Jedi Knights are forbidden to have romantic attachments,” Kabre tells him apropos of nothing one late evening when they’re leaning against the railings of their cabin.

Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to pretend to not know what his friend is talking about. Anakin is twenty-three now. They call each other as often as possible, whenever they have enough free time. Thinking about Anakin, somewhere out in the galaxy, makes Obi-Wan feel dangerous things. Dangerous, insidious, illogical things.

“Yes,” he agrees.

“Everything you’ve ever told me about this boy makes me think he’s in love with you,” Kabre says. “And the way you tell it makes me think you’re in love with him too.”

“Kabre, I…”

“I’m not asking you to deny it to me, Obi-Wan. You don’t need to defend yourself. You know no one cares if you’ve gone and fallen in love with your flimsi friend. It happens. And Force knows there’s no way you could be more insufferable than Aldrin and Susa.”

“He’s a Jedi Knight, Kabre,” Obi-Wan looks away, off over the fields. “I know what that means.”

----

When Anakin is twenty-four, Obi-Wan walks into his room to see a letter on his pillow. He blinks in surprise. He hasn’t gotten a letter since they petered out in favor of comm calls with Anakin.

But he’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.

He sits down to read it.

Dear Obi-Wan,

I find myself growing weary of Knighthood. I love my Padawan, I love the missions, I love the fighting. But I love something else more. I have for almost as long as I can remember.

I’ve been looking through the old letters from you. I’ve kept them all. I know Jedi should not have material attachments, but I found that I could no more throw them away than give my lightsaber to a Sith. They make up our story.

You were the first friend I ever had at the Temple. I don’t quite think you realized that then, and you may not even realize it now. But you were. I would get a letter from you and feel warm for weeks afterwards.

Actually, everything I love about the Temple and the Jedi you gave to me. My friends now, indirectly. All the hiding spots. Moving meditation.

When I got my kyber crystal, I wanted to tell you before anyone else. When my Padawan braid was cut, I gave it to my master, but wished I had something I could give to you too.

That was the day I really admitted to myself that you already have all of me.

Obi-Wan, I’m in love with you. I love you more every time we talk. Disengaging the comms at the end of the night hurts like losing my hand all over again. I love you, I love you.

And I have been a coward about it for too many years. I was afraid that you would reject me, think me too rash and young and foolish. But I know what I want. You told me in one of your letters that you believed I lived off of a single-minded desire to achieve my goals and that I would let nothing stand in the way.

I do not plan on starting now, if you will have me that is. I dream of nothing more than to feel your hands on my face, to listen to the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

I will not disrespect the ways of the Jedi by loving you quietly, when I know you are my deepest, strongest attachment. One that I will not shake, even if I lived to be as old as Master Yoda himself.

If you find that you feel the same way, I will leave the Jedi Order tomorrow and meet you on Bandomeer. If you do not, then I understand and will never speak of this again. I am something of an expert after all these years of loving you silently from afar.

Yours sincerely, yours always, yours completely,

Anakin

Obi-Wan traces the words with a shaking hand. He doesn’t know he’s crying until a tear falls onto the flimsi. Oh, Anakin. Oh, his brave, foolish Anakin.

Will he really be so selfish as to allow Anakin to leave his Knighthood for him? His padawan, his home?

But the knowledge that Anakin loves him is a heady, addictive feeling. Obi-Wan has never truly gotten the things he wants. He loves his life now, of course. But he hadn’t wanted it.

And he loves Anakin.

He loves him terribly.

He reaches for a piece of flimsi and a pen.

----

Anakin will be the first to admit he’s been in a foul mood for a few standard weeks now. He’d sent that letter to Obi-Wan--Force, why had he sent that letter to Obi-Wan, obviously the man will never want to talk to him again now--and then immediately Ahsoka and him had been called in for a mission.

It had been awful and disgusting. Anakin is covered in mud from head to toe, and his padawan doesn’t look any better. And worst of all, he had had no time at all to comm Obi-Wan. No time at all to see how the man had taken his confession. It feels like he’s been holding his breath for days.

But he’s at the Temple now. He can clean himself off and call Obi-Wan incessantly until the man answers. Anakin can’t keep living like this.

“Letter for you, Master,” Ahsoka says as he enters their quarters. She’d been sent ahead while Anakin had finished docking the ship, and now she’s sitting at the table perfectly clean.

Anakin thinks his heart stops at these words and then it starts beating as fast as it ever has before. “Where?”

“I put it on your bed,” Ahsoka peers up at him with a furrowed brow. “Are you okay, Skyguy? You look a bit--”

But Anakin’s gone, already tearing into his room. There on the bedspread is a letter. Obi-Wan’s written him a letter.

Anakin has to try opening it three times before he finally gets his fingers to cooperate. It’s very short.

Dearest One, Obi-Wan has written.

I’ll meet you here tomorrow on Bandomeer. I will be waiting.

Forever yours,

Obi-Wan

Anakin smiles and feels like he could cry or sing or dance or scream from all the joy that’s welled up in his chest at this small handful of words Obi-Wan has given him. They’re everything and more.

Mindful of the mud on his person, he puts the letter gently on his bed and walks back out to the common area. Ahsoka is right where he left her.

“Okay, now you just look scary,” she says, pointing a fork at him. “Stop smiling like that.”

Anakin lets his grin die. He won’t relish this next part, but it’s for Obi-Wan. It’s so he can be with Obi-Wan. It's necessary. “Snips,” he says, sitting down opposite her. “We need to talk.”

[doorsclosingslowly]

There’s someone waiting out there with a mouthful of surprises

The Jedi recovered the bisected Sith apprentice from Naboo and imprisoned him underneath the Jedi Temple. A young Anakin finds the way down to his cell.

Anakin is twelve when he declines one of Chancellor Palpatine’s invitations for the first time. The resulting devastation looks wrong on his kindly old face, and Anakin wants to take it back—besides, it’s just an opera and a glass of bubbly, where could be the harm?—but he remembers golden eyes pleading up at him and then a skull-patterned face scrunched up into a splotch with how hard it’s trying to hide utter desperation, and he repeats his invented excuse.

It doesn’t matter that this one-sided rivalry for Anakin’s attention that has developed between the mutilated imprisoned murderer Sith (slave) he has befriended and the Chancellor of the Republic is honestly deeply stupid, from Anakin’s point of view. It’s not like he couldn’t spent time with them both: his missions with Master Obi-Wan have increased in number recently, but still, he’s been talking to Palpatine once a month and he’s also managed to fit in the regular trips down below to the high security carcer. It’s ridiculous.

But Anakin understands loneliness—and fear and attachment and jealousy and all the other disturbances of the peace he shouldn’t feel—he didn’t have friends for years in the Temple, after all, and it makes sense, at least a little, that Maul is scared he’ll be forgotten down there when Anakin has any other option. Not a lot of sense, because really what he’s saying is that he thinks Anakin so disloyal he’ll just ditch the only real friend he made on Coruscant, and Anakin would get back at him for the insult if it wasn’t for an energy gate perpetually between them and the fact that it’s a just a little bit unfair to tussle with a guy crawling on the floor because he doesn’t have legs… The jealousy is still kriffing stupid, but if anyone knows stupid fears it’s Anakin.

So he declines, and he keeps declining, and two years later the invitations stop.

.

Anakin is eleven when he starts smuggling droid parts down into the top security oubliette underneath the oldest parts of the Jedi Temple. The first time is, in retrospect, a terrifying accident. He’s built a tiny moving starfighter that Master Obi-Wan just glanced at and said, “Well done,” nothing more, like Anakin didn’t need to use pincers to weld the tiniest engine parts together, like he didn’t cast the alloy all by himself. He sulks in his room, the ship buzzing at his head, and then remembers that there’s at least two more people who might like to see. Palpatine is probably busy, and that leaves…

The Sith prisoner is a far more appreciative audience than Anakin’s Master. His eyes glint and widen when he sees the presence next to Anakin’s head, and he even pulls himself off his berth: pulls himself off the edge and tumbles down head-first, and then panting and with his nails dug into the duracrete he drags his torso over to the energy trellis that separates him from Anakin.

He looks up at the droid in childlike wonder.

There’s a tenderness to his questions that he hasn’t shown Anakin up until now, and it’s not just the hoarse panting of exertion that takes away the last dregs of his usual intimidating mien. He wants to know everything, from the full-size model of the ship it was based on to the assembly process to details of every single one of Anakin’s new projects.

“I can—I could feel the movement of the droids I built, in the force,” the prisoner whispers reverently. “They were a constant presence when I was young.”

“Right? Right?” Anakin is excited. The Jedi have been trying to tell him that droids don’t have force presences, and he’s almost believed them by now, but if he’s not alone in feeling it then he was right. Master Obi-Wan was wrong. He knew it.

He brings down the next droid he builds—yes, two days after the first trip he did realize he brought something easily used as a weapon to the dangerous Sith prisoner, but all he did was talk mechanics with Anakin so clearly it’s harmless—and the next and next. He watches the prisoner drag himself across the floor. He sees the abrasions covering the prisoner head to abdomen—covering him on every inch of the body he still possesses—the injuries that he must be sustaining from his only mode of movement. He feels the shame radiate out from the prisoner down on the floor, painful, cloying. He watches him try to play it all down.

One day, Anakin brings down a ship that he designed himself to meet the exact dimensions and functionality of a short humanoid’s prosthetic thigh. He pushes it against the barrier. It moves through.

.

Anakin is almost ten years old, and he knows that down in the bowels of the Jedi Temple there lives a monster. The Sith is caged so deep below that no-one can hear his growls and mutters, his whimpers, his pleas, or so Master Obi-Wan promised Anakin yesterday when he’d worked up the courage to ask about the sounds he keeps hearing whenever he closes his eyes. He’s locked down so deep that the shivering of his despair and the gall of his hatred must be a hallucination. He’s been caged for months, first interrogated daily, then found useless and forgotten. But not by Anakin.

(He saw the monstrous enemy of the Jedi for the first time when he’d just turned nine. It pulled its black hood off its bright head and panicked Master Qui-Gon and Master Obi-Wan, and Anakin was sent away for safety that quickly turned into cosmic warfare. Before that moment, he knows, on Tatooine it tried to run Anakin over with its bike. After that moment, he’d seen the monster—or what remained of it—being carried out of the Naboo palace on Master Obi-Wan’s back, moaning and delirious with pain, but dangerous nonetheless. It had bitten Obi-Wan so hard he’d flung it reflexively to the ground.

Down there, it had begged. “Honor,” it had rasped. “Give me honor. Give me death.”

Master Obi-Wan had picked it up by its arm, and it had whimpered in protest, “I fought with honor!”

Obi-Wan had ignored it. Anakin would have, too; this thing had killed Master Qui-Gon, and whether it had done so with honor or not didn’t matter when Master Qui-Gon was dead. It had killed the Jedi who’d won him, who chose to train Anakin, who was the only guarantor of his future safety, and he didn’t know what would happen now, and he hated it.

It had grown more frantic then, terrified. “Kill me, Jedi, please, when my Master—”

And Anakin had swallowed a cry of shocked recognition.)

Anakin will be ten in two months, and today he’s gonna see the monster again. It’s not the force that calls him down staircase after staircase to the oubliette below the oldest parts of the Jedi Temple. He’d be able to explain if it was the force, if he got caught, he thinks, but that’s not what’s going on. It’s just homesickness, and loneliness, and it is that word.

The way he said it.

Anakin has met more Masters in the last year of his life than ever before, has uttered the word more often than on Tatooine, and he’s doing pretty well, he thinks. He doesn’t flinch with his body when he says it and not with his face either, and even the highest Masters—there it is again—they can’t feel the acid in his force presence anymore.

He greets Master Obi-Wan in the morning and he bows to Grandmaster Yoda whenever they meet.

He doesn’t talk about his childhood. He doesn’t talk much, nowadays, to anyone but Master Obi-Wan or his teachers. He knows he’s weird. He wasn’t on Tatooine, but here… He doesn’t know the things the other padawans do, and his reflexive associations, his interests, his memories shock them. There’s no point, Anakin has learned, in expecting people who can say Master without galling—who don’t need to pretend enjoy it—to listen to him. They’ll never wake up in cold sweat and feel for the bomb that was cut out of their neck, that was injected into it while they were awake and their mother cried, that had so often almost gone off. They don’t cry for their Mom. They’ll only shush him when he talks of his past.

When he talks of his fears.

Of himself.

They’ll never understand him. No-one will. No-one will let him be the Anakin he really is, without fussing over him and muttering and looking like he should know better by now. No-one wants anything beyond the parts of himself he can salvage that are untainted by his past. The parts that don’t remember his mother.

The only person who listens to all of him is Palpatine, and even he often doesn’t know what to say.

No-one will understand, possibly, but…

The monster that lives down below the Jedi Temple had forced out Master like the word tastes of fire and dread.

Like it heralds pain.

The monster is a fellow slave, Anakin is sure. He’s the only being on Coruscant who might understand; the only person who will let him be whole. He’s killed Master Qui-Gon, yes, but he didn’t have a choice, just like Anakin wasn’t allowed to disobey his Master and neither was Mom or Kitster or Beru or anybody else back home.

It was so obvious, the moment he said it.

The monster’s a slave.

Point: Anakin is so tired of having to pretend he never was a slave.

Point also: He just found a map of all the layers of the temple in a garbage chute, wedged in a decommissioned droid’s dataslit. A map that shows the oubliette for ancient evils.

Point also also: Master Obi-Wan’s fast asleep, and Anakin can’t get his thoughts to stop racing.

The monster’s a fellow slave.

Ergo: it’s time to sneak down and make a friend.

What must be hundreds of meters below the current Jedi Temple, at the bottom of the bottom-most staircase, smells faintly of sweat and boredom and despair. The only illumination Anakin can make out is a set of force trellises, and if the schematics he found were right then that’s exactly the spot that he’s looking for.

Pulling his hood down deeper just because it’s chilly and definitely not because he’s nervous and needs something to fidget, he sneaks closer.

Victory!

The Sith’s inside the cell. He looks just like the attacker Anakin remembers, with a red-and-black face and some horns and a scowl. He looks completely different, too: he’s naked, or at least his torso is. The lower half of his body is just missing. Did the Jedi—but no, Anakin can dimly remember Master Obi-Wan mention the way he beat him. That he’s still without prosthetics, even though his scars are well-healed… Anakin knew a woman who’d survived a bomb blowing off her leg, on Tatooine. She lived off of fellow slaves’ charity, for a few months. Her head wasn’t all there anymore from the pain, Mom told Anakin, and her Master had just let her leave. Why invest in a prosthetic when you’re not getting any use from its recipient?

The Sith is doing better than her, at least, even if he’s missing way more flesh. He’s doing pull-ups off the head piece of his callow berth. His yellow eyes gleam in the soft light of the force trellis when he looks over. When he notices Anakin. For a long moment, he looks stunned, and only then he remembers to snarl.

“Hi,” Anakin says.

The prisoner puffs up his defined arm muscles, as well as he can when he’s still hanging off the frame of his bed. He must have decided that dropping down onto his torso—and probably his face—would be even less dignified, though, because he stays put, sweaty and glowering out at Anakin from under his armpit, like he’s desperately trying to look threatening and tough in an unfamiliar situation where the other person has all the power.

It’s a scene Anakin has known intimately for most of his life.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Anakin says.

A beat.

Right.

“The Jedi didn’t send me,” because in his situation that’s what Anakin would most like to know. The Jedi are not this guy’s slave masters, but they do have all the power over him right now.

“I was a slave too, before they took me here. You can trust me,” and at least that gets a reaction: the prisoner looks absolutely apoplectic and even opens his mouth. Finally! He’s angry, which isn’t ideal—Anakin should have remembered that some slaves don’t want to admit they are—but they’re talking!

But the Sith just closes his mouth again.

He keeps his sullen silence for what feels like hours while Anakin tries one conversational gambit after the other. He just can’t have blown his one chance at talking to someone whose mouth makes the right shape for Master. Anakin refuses to accept that.

But it grows later and later, and Master Obi-Wan will wake up at some point, and he doesn’t have to concede defeat for forever, after all, but maybe for today…

“Fine.” Anakin puffs out his chest. He should say something soothing that’ll buy him a foot in the door next time, but he’s been pleading and pleading, and it hurts. “I don’t even care if you don’t want to talk. I’ve got plenty of friends. Chancellor Palpatine asked me to come over for tea just yesterday!”

The voice is so threadbare that he almost misses it, but it’s there. The Sith clears his throat. He sounds more sure and velvety when he repeats his plea to Anakin. His golden eyes are so wide it looks painful.

“Wait! Repeat what you just said!”

.

Anakin is nineteen when he climbs down into the bowels of the Temple for the last time. He hasn’t slept for two days, barely even closed his eyes, because on the insides of his lids is his mother, writhing, pleading.

No-one up in the Temple can give him any help. All they have to offer is platitudes about Uncertain the future is and Let go of attachment you must, but it’s his Mom, and she’s being tortured! She’s dying! She can’t be dying! She’s Anakin’s Mom!

He’s pleaded to be sent to Tatooine on a mission, but Senator Amidala’s protection detail is more important Master Obi-Wan said, and he can’t just go against the will of his… He can’t go. His Mom’s dying every moment he closes his eyes and he can’t go.

Maul is his last hope.

No-one will even notice that Maul’s gone. He’s been locked up for a decade now, and only the meal droids and Anakin still climb down to his level. Anakin’s friends with the meal droids, too, and he can definitely talk them into keeping silent about the Sith prisoner’s disappearance.

Maul’s a fighter, and he was able to find them on Tatooine and follow them to Naboo so he must be able to find Anakin’s Mom, too, wherever she’s been dragged off to. He’ll be able to save her.

He’ll—

Anakin has already sliced the force trellis control panel and turned it off when the fear grabs him. He’s spilled all his nightmares of his mother’s death, has shared the only plan for her survival. He’s received the assent he was sure to get. Now, he’s helping Maul put on the smuggled prosthetics that have been hidden in the stuffing of Maul’s prison berth, kneeling down before him.

And suddenly, all he tastes in the air is raw hatred.

He flinches. The trellis must have functioned as a shield from Maul’s presence before, keeping Anakin from realizing the true depth of Maul’s anger, the extent of his strength.

He could kill Anakin right now. He could attack the temple, and it would all be Anakin’s fault.

The frailty and humiliations of the prisoner’s mutilated body have lulled Anakin into reacting with kindness. He’s seen a man who is weak, helpless, and of course he offered help.

The cadence of Maul’s voice has made him sound like a friend.

But he’s the Sith who slaughtered Master Qui-Gon.

He’s filled to the brim with hatred and jealousy and pain, the force around them screams, will never release them to meditation like Anakin has tried and tried to do; he’s everything the Jedi Council saw in Anakin that day a decade ago and that he’s tried so hard to bury. He’s a Sith.

He’s warm.

It’s not just the hand he rests on Anakin’s shoulder but the very air he expels. Anakin expected the dark side of the force to be frigid, the way his own loathing and terror have kept him shivering and cold, but this is a hearth: protection, purification, an almost magnetic pull. It wraps around them. He shudders again.

“Do not be afraid,” Maul says, and from the soft look in his eyes he has misunderstood completely. “I shall find your mother, apprentice. You will do admirably while I’m gone. Just remember everything I taught you.”

And then, the darkness curls around Anakin again, hot and possessive. “While I’m gone, don’t talk to Palpatine.”

.

Anakin is twenty-three when he decides to brutally murder the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. His wife is laying in the delivery room, holding the boy twin—holding their baby boy!—while he strokes her hair reverently, and there is his Mom beside him, holding the girl twin—holding their baby girl!—and next to the door, scowling, stands Maul.

“Do you want to hold her?” Mom asks Maul gently. She knows him best now, and if she decides Maul’s standoffishness towards the twins—his twins!—is shyness rather than dislike, then Anakin will forgive him for not cooing over the babies—his kids! His and Padmé’s kids!—like any rational person would.

“Even His patience runs out one day,” Maul whispers.

Anakin’s hairs curl in shocked recognition, and he doesn’t even need to hear the word, but—

“I told you, Shmi, he started talking to Anakin as soon as he arrived. Somehow I managed to keep them apart, to interfere with the attempts at molding him, but the very fact He showed interest must warn us… As soon as he learns of this birth, and His spies are everywhere…” Maul turns back towards the door, palms laid across it as if he could keep the gate shut. The force burns with shielding hatred. “My Master will come for your children. Soon. Palpatine likes them young.”

[giggles-and-freckles]

febuwhump day 9: buried alive

Crises do strange things to a normal human mind. In moments of emergency or peril, the brain is able to speed itself up and slow reality down to allow for the synapses to catch up with practicality and survival. The world turns to slow motion and quick split-second decisions can be processed through.

For a Force-sensitive–for a Jedi–that’s the mind’s resting place. In moments of crisis, the brain doesn’t just speed up–it spirals. 

The world goes quiet, the air gets thin, and the Jedi always knows what to do.

Anakin’s eyes lock with Ahsoka’s from across the cave. She’s a Jedi, so she sees it, too. The vial is falling to the ground and there’s nothing they can do, not really. Even a Force catch will be too much. The vial is going to hit the ground and the chemical is going to be released into the atmosphere.

Her eyes widen and her mouth opens to shout something at him, but it’s too late. An apology passes from his eyes to hers and then she’s flying backwards, propelled by the invisible line between him and her. The Force, his Force, pushing her back, back, back, as the earth cascades around him and between them.

He hears her scream.

But her hating him for the rest of his short life is a better alternative than the hate he would have for himself if he outlived her.

“Master!” Her voice is muffled and strangled and he hopes it’s because of the rocks between them and not the ones over her. He begs the Force to have accounted for his own impulse and pushed her far enough back.

Anakin opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. He realises that the darkness he’s seeing is not from his eyes being closed or the rubble obstructing his line of sight. 

His vision is gone, completely.

Which could likely be attributed to the warm stickiness he feels on the back of his head.

“Master!” she yells again. He hears rocks shift, like she’s pulling them with her hands. That was good–it meant she could move. She was okay.

She’ll never be able to get to him, though, and he hopes she realises that before her hands are bloodied and raw.

Anakin tries to speak again, but the dirt is too thick and he knows any attempts to further open his mouth will only make this happen even faster. 

He can’t feel anything beneath his shoulders. Paralysed. He doesn’t need to turn his head to know a piece of earth has shattered his spine.

“Master, this isn’t funny!” she shouts. The sound of rocks being moved grows louder, more frantic and erratic.

No one has her kind of determination.

“Why did you do it?” she screams. “Why? We could have contained it!”

He shakes his head out of habit. The movement sends a sharp pain through his skull and reminds him, that his body has been crushed under several hundred tons of earth. But he shakes his head anyway.

Arguing with his Padawan–that’s always come so easily. Not like arguing with Kitster about whether a reactor or converter was optimal for his pod as a kid. Not like arguing with the Council, when they had a choice reprimand for him. Not even like arguing with Obi-Wan, when the heat in his heart would sear his chest in an effort to be understood, to be seen.

No, arguing with his Padawan was different. Quick-witted words, rolled eyes, and dopey smiles. Sometimes a light shove in the shoulder or muss of hair. It’s warm and welcome. The best part of his day.

“You’re so stupid!” she yells, and he hears the tears in her voice now. He hates that. “You think that you have to die some brave, heroic, Jedi death and it’s stupid! It’s not your job to protect me!”

He wants to laugh, because, yes, it absolutely is. But she’s always been too like him in that way–never very reasonable when she’s angry.

A sob rips from her and his heart aches. His Padawan, his sister.

It’s his fault, like it always is. He didn’t see the vial, didn’t know that was the threat they were looking for. But allowing it to spread beyond this cave–to infect the planet and infect her. It’s not a risk he was willing to take.

The pain that was coursing through the back of his head stops altogether and he wonders if it’s normal for death to be painless. He hopes it was like this for his mother.

“I won’t leave you!” Ahsoka cries out. “Not this time.”

As if she’s ever left him before. As if she ever would.

Loyal, through and through, his Snips.

You have to.

“NO!” she screams back, and he realises he unconsciously sent that message through their bond. His heart starts to beat violently. He has so much to say, so much to tell her–

Ahsoka.

“No, Master!” she yells and he knows she’s shaking her head, lekku flopping back and forth furiously. “I won’t listen to your ridiculous orders for me to–to–”

You have to help the others.

“I want to help you, Skyguy.” It’s too quiet for him to hear through all the rubble between them, but he feels it.

Jedi.

She snorts, loud enough for him to hear. “Don’t you dare start to act like you suddenly care about that!!”

Obi-Wan.

She doesn’t respond immediately to that because there’s no bluff to call. She knows he means it when he says he prioritises Obi-Wan’s safety above himself. The older Jedi is here in this same cave, winding his way through a different quadrant, flanked by some of his men. He won’t know about the chemicals either. And Anakin is sure the vial he dropped isn’t the only one down here.

Go.

“Master–” she starts, but doesn’t finish. Because this is where she is nothing like him. She always does the right thing, no matter what. He’s learned so much from it in his short time with her and he knows she’ll teach Obi-Wan now. 

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. His family. They’ll make a great team.

“I’ll come back for you!!!”

She won’t, because she always does the right thing. But it’s okay. He doesn’t want her to.

Snips.

The rocks stop shifting. She’s waiting.

I’m proud of you.

[padawanlost]

Can I confess something? I know that positivity is “better” than negativity, and people are allowed to have their opinions, but there is something about Pro-Jedi “they did nothing wrong, absolutely no flaws, but were ONLY destroyed by Palpatine” arguments that makes me kind of uncomfortable. Nevermind that half of it is sourced by Disney revisionist canon, it’s just… there is something in the “the intent was good, but this is harmful” “NO ITS 100% GOOD ACTUALLY” that makes my skin crawl. Sorry

I feel you, anon. I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately. It worries me how defensive some people are getting. I mean, I love my favorite fictional characters too. I think that’s absolutely normal, and loving a fictional character whether they are the heroes or the villains doesn’t say anything about who we are as people. Admitting we love Anakin or Darth Vader doesn’t immediately make us favorable to torture, war, fascism, murder and corruption. 

However, the arguments we use to explain a characters behavior do say something about who we are. And some arguments being used by the star wars fandom are downright scary. You know, there’s a difference between saying ‘I don’t like Padmé because she’s not the type of character I’m usually interested in’ and saying ‘Padmé is useless weak bitch because she died’. One is about you expressing your taste and the other is you showing the world your sexism.

It’s the same with Anakin, Vader and every one fictional character in existence, regardless of fandom. there’s nothing wrong with loving Anakin, but when you start advocating that genocide is a valid option, if you think women belong to men, that torture works and authoritarianism makes the world better, I’m not gonna lie, warning bells do go off in my head.

It’s the same with the Jedi. there’s nothing wrong with loving and supporting them because they were designed to liked by the audience. but once you start advocating that child slavery is not that bad, that war crimes are justified, that indoctrinating children is healthy, that mind controlling people against their will is a kindness, dismemberment is compassion, that child soldiers are a valid option and that the enslavement of poc characters is a necessity…MAYBE the issue here is no longer about fictional characters.

It’s ironic because if an Anakin fan says Anakin was right in slaughtering the tusken raiders, most people – anakin fans included – will be outraged by notion that genocide and mass murder should ever be considered the right solution to any problem. we love Anakin but we also know he made mistakes and what those mistakes were. it’s not about defending him, it’s about acknowledging certain things are simply wrong even if they are done by fictional characters we love.

Weirdly enough, when it comes to the Jedi nothing seems to be wrong enough to some people. everything is justifiable: war crimes, child endangerment, slavery, etc. Nothing seems to be bad enough that they can’t find a way to justify it. And that scares me. because it has become so obvious these issues only matter when the jedi are harmed by them.

The most current example of this is the The Clone Wars series finale. The episode was heavily focused on the massive loss of clones lives that happened during Order 66 and yet some fans were outraged that their white favorites weren’t the main focus of the episode because THEY SUFFERED SO MUCH MORE. It’s the same with fans rapidly turning on Ahsoka, the Martez sisters and even Filoni for so much as hinting they didn’t agree with the Order’s decisions.

You know, it’s not about them defending the Jedi is about how and why they defend them. Saying I don’t care what the jedi did because I love them is fine. Saying I love the Jedi because they never did anything wrong and then writing a long ass essay on why the lives of POC characters don’t matter is not. It sickens me to see people spend a lot of time writing fucking books desperately trying to justify why not helping Kitster, Ahsoka, Barriss or the younglings hunted for sport was the right call at the same they romanticize Obi-wan’s short enslavement as the one of the most tragic things that has ever happening the entire franchise.

Imo, that’s pretty telling. I don’t know if they are racist or just really, really insecure about their own taste but it does makes me wonder about who they are as people. it sounds harsh even to me to say this but the truth is this does goes beyond fiction. this shit has affected people in real life. I mean, every once in a while I see a jedi ‘stan’ telling someone Karen Traviss hated the Jedi and that she was the personification of everything that’s evil about people who criticize the Jedi Order. Look, I don’t know anything about who she is a person but I do know the same Jedi stans spent years sending her death and RAPE threats for being critical of the FICTIONAL CHARACTERS even after she wrote a long letter explaining she didn’t actually hate the Jedi. I don’t know where everyone moral compass is pointing at but *I* was raised to believe that wishing a woman dead and/or raped is NEVER the best answer.

But somehow people who say ‘I love the jedi even if they weren’t perfect’ are being portrayed as the villainous, irrational fans who are ruining everything and attacking everyone. I sleep well at night knowing i never tried to pass actual crimes that harm actual people as good, righteous things just to make fictional characters look better.

It’s not about hating the Jedi the same way that acknowledging Anakin’s crimes is not about hating on Anakin. It’s about recognizing that something that is legally and morally wrong in real life is also wrong in fiction, specially when the fiction world was build as a political parallel of our own. We are not saying war crimes and slavery is wrong because we hate the say, we are saying war crimes and slavery are wrong because THEY ARE WRONG. If our love and support for fictional characters can so easily blind us to real life morality then maybe we should do some soul searching before going to such lengths to justify something considered a heinous crime in both fictional and real world

A few days ago I was trying to get a coworker to start watching Breaking Bad. We were talking about Walter White and why he was such iconic character. he’s clearly not a great guy but that doesn’t mean we don’t love the character. I think that’s the difference some fans have a hard time grasping: the difference between a good character and a good person. I have seen many fans saying WW’s actions were cool, badass, ‘manly’ or whatever but I’ve never seen anyone trying to pass drug trafficking and murder as morally superior choices.

That’s what I’m trying to say. We can love (or hate) fictional characters for whatever reason we want. but how we go about justifying their actions and how we react to those who disagree with our views do say a lot about who we are. I mean, there’s a big difference between saying ‘it was so cool to watch Darth Vader is laughter all those red shirts in Rogue One’ and saying ‘and war crimes are a necessary part of life, Darth Vader was morally justified in slaughter them all and those who disagree with me are haters’.

Taste doesn’t really said anything about who we are but behavior does. Loving or hating a fictional characters doesn’t make us better or worse than anyone. But what we have to say about fictional and how we behave around other fans do say a lot about who we are.

Fandom is a community and like any community nothing and no one is perfect. Pretending ‘everything is awesome’ is choice, of couse, but one i’m not very fond of.

[fialleril]

Was going back through the Fires tag, and I saw the picture of Anakin in the 'verse where he wasn't freed by Qui-Gon, and now I can't help wondering how it would go if that actually happened. Since, at least in your fics, Anakin was working on a bomb scanner even before he was freed, and though the lack of Dooku's funding would make a revolution harder... Huh, if they still managed to go through with a revolution, do you think they'd join the Separtists?

Anakin was working on a scanner in canon. He says as much in TPM, which is how we know both that the transmitters exist, and that a scanner to locate them would conceivably be possible. He tells Padme, Qui-Gon, and Jar Jar about it when they’re having dinner in Shmi’s house. He seems to regard the scanner as his most important project, and he’s frustrated by the fact that he hasn’t finished it yet.

So yes, I think if he hadn’t left to become a Jedi in TPM, Anakin would have kept working on his scanner, and eventually he would have perfected it. And then he would have used it, probably freed himself and his mother and Kitster and their friends first, but he definitely wouldn’t have stopped there. This is the kid who originally wanted to be a Jedi specifically so he could “come back and free all the slaves.” So of course he’d have shared the scanner design with anyone who would use it.

I don’t think a newly freed Tatooine would ever have joined the Separatists, though. At least, not if they’re the canon Separatists, because the Separatist Movement in canon seems to be entirely made up of business, finance, and industry executives who think that the Republic doesn’t allow them enough leeway in their pursuit of extreme capitalist oligarchy.

The Trade Federation, the Commerce Guild, the Techno Union, the Banking Clan... I mean, George was not at all subtle about his message here. The rich want to be above the law, and they’re attempting to secede from the Republic to achieve that. (Of course, Palpatine is actually using them for his own ends, but they don’t know that, and their stated reasons for seceding are genuine on their part.)

And all of those organizations would be antithetical to a free government on Tatooine. What’s more, I can’t imagine the Separatists actually wanting Tatooine as a member state any more than the Republic does. As a slave colony, sure. But Tatooine is never going to go for that.

So, if you posit a free Tatooine in an otherwise unchanged prequels universe...well, I don’t see any way it can end other than Tatooine vs. the galaxy. They’d be fighting a war on all sides, and barring some incredible miracle, it would almost certainly end in tragedy and a new subjugation. Whether to the Republic, the Separatists, or the Empire - but then, to the people of Tatooine there’s very little difference between those three.

[gffa]

Scattered Star Wars novels/comics/shows thoughts: - I want to write up a proper thing on Resistance at some point, but basically my response is:  I AM SUPER CHARMED.  It’s a little early to really have much investment in it or to be able to tell where it’s going, but I had no trouble sailing along and watching the first three episodes and would have kept going if I’d had more to watch.  It’s adorable and genuinely funny and has a magical kind of charm that works for me--I like Kazuda and Neeku and Yeager and Tam already, I enjoy spending time with them and think they have some pretty great chemistry. One of the biggest things that helped win me over re: the animation (which I know isn’t for everyone) is that I’m about 80% certain that half of what they were going for was one long love letter to Studio Ghibli!  I first had this moment of WHOA THAT LOOKS LIKE STRAIGHT OUT OF A GHIBLI MOVIE when they went to the parts shop and you can’t tell me that Flix and Orka aren’t escaped Ghibli characters!  That entire scene of them moving through the shop on the mechanical lifts, while being surrounded by these otherworldly creatures, was just so Ghibli to me. So I kept watching with that in the back of my mind and more scenes would pop up--Kazuda going to the market, with all those banners fluttering in the breeze? Ghibli.  Kazuda looking in on the little gorgs (the fish-things) as they popped up to the surface, then later went flying through the air with the spilling water animation drawn lovingly?  Ghibli.  The way Tam’s face moved through all her frustration and eyerolls and yelling up into Yeager’s face?  Ghibli.  Every scene with Aunt Z?  Ghibli. It’s not something I would have thought from the promo art, it’s really in the backgrounds and watching the characters for longer periods of time, but it gives me that feeling and I love Ghibli stuff, so that helped me instantly fall in love. But it’s more than that--everything felt really well paced to me and not too much of anything I wasn’t interested in.  I was wary that this was going to be a series really focused on racing and accepted that, hey, I wasn’t the target audience, so if it appealed more to kids, that would be fine.  But there really wasn’t that much racing and what was there was actually a lot of fun and exciting to watch!  I had no trouble staying focused on the show while those scenes were going on! Same for the tension between Kazuda and the people around him as he tries to fit in!  Yes, it’s there, but it’s not harped on so badly that I’m ready to move on--there are already moments where they’re working together better and I AM SO HERE FOR DEVELOPING FRIENDSHIPS AND POTENTIAL FOUND FAMILY STUFF.  :D  Especially since this series is set about half a year out from The Force Awakens and we’re all warily eyeing that timeline and wondering if Kazuda’s dad is going to be on Hosnian Prime when TFA happens. I’m not at the point where I have ships or the desire to look for fic or anything, but it’s only been three episodes so I wouldn’t expect it.  But I do really love it, I think they did it just exactly as they should have, and that it’s genuinely just an absolute delight and I want more of it! - I keep flipping back and forth between the book version of Tatooine Ghost and the audiobook because, if there’s going to be a lot of prequels stuff, I like reading it to better absorb it, but so far the majority of it still keeps slipping back into Han/Leia and New Republic stuff.  Kitster’s around, but the whole thing feels so.... It’s so clearly Jossed Fanfic!  Which is exactly how I feel about so much of Legends, that it was literally published fanfiction and I have that feeling of coming into a fandom late, going back to read some of the classics, which were often groundbreaking at the time, but have been very clearly Jossed in terms of continuity and even themes.  That doesn’t mean they’re less worthwhile or anything, but that, as someone who is REALLY INTO canon, it creates a much bigger chasm for me to get over to connect with. - I blogged a bit about that Tales from Vader #2 issue but OMG IT WAS SUCH A DELIGHT.  I’ve been feeling kind of down lately, a lot of little stuff has piled up and I’m forever one of those people who’s like THE NEXT THING THAT COMES OUT IS GOING TO RUIN STAR WARS FOREVER!!!! and it was kind of getting to me, especially as I’ve had some trouble here on tumblr again.  (I love a lot of the sweethearts in this fandom, but a lot of other people have no goddamned manners, jeez.)  So getting this comic with Obi-Wan and Adi and Cody and Dooku, having it be just a screaming DELIGHT (I'm really enjoying Cavan Scott’s work with Star Wars) helped reconnect me. Anything that has Obi-Wan saying,  “Nonsense, as I always tell Anakin–together, we can do anything.  Together we arestrong.” is going to win over my heart! But also DOOKU AS A VAMPIRE AS A NOD TO CHRISTOPHER LEE’S DRACULA.  Or ADI GALLIA NOT BEING FORGOTTEN.  Or the amazing echo to Order 66!  Or getting to see Lina again and CONFIRMATION THAT MILO IS STILL AROUND WITH THEM. And I am never, ever getting over that Obi-Wan saved the day by NEEDLING DOOKU’S EGO TO MAKE HIM SO MAD THAT HE SNAPS OUT OF HIS VAMPIRE FUGUE STATE.  As @aifsaath said, he is going to have an amazing resume for dealing with kindergartners after this and his 10+ years of dealing with Anakin and even Maul as well.

[fialleril]

*bounces* it's my birthday on the 20th, any chance of a snippet? I could go for anything, I just looove your aus

Hi anon, and sorry for replying late! I hope you’ll still enjoy this snippet, and that your birthday was a good one!

I’m rapidly running out of Anabasis snippets I can share without completely spoiling everything, so here instead is another snippet from the Jedi Reformation AU. In which Padmé gets the full Tatooine wedding experience.

This is actually set during AOTC, but various elements of the AU have resulted in changes that mean Shmi, Kitster, and Padmé’s entire family are staying with Padmé and Anakin at Varykino. It’s a good time.

Also, because this is my AU and I can, I’m running with the idea that Beru Whitesun is Shmi’s adopted daughter. Owen is her boyfriend. Cliegg Lars does not exist.

Shmi gets a comcall from Beru that afternoon. The wholething is very mysterious to Padmé: apparently Beru wants to know where Shmi is,because she needs to tell her something, but whatever it is can’t be sharedover comlink, even in code. The reactions of the three Skywalkers only deepenthe mystery: Shmi is positively beaming as she tells Padmé about the message,and Kitster and Anakin are smirking and elbowing one another in the ribs.“Called it!” Kitster says in a sing-song voice.

“Can we bring them here?” Anakin asks, turning that boyish,nakedly hopeful look on Padmé. “We could send someone to pick them up, so westay secure.”

That probably wouldn’t meet the Jedi Council’s definition ofsecurity, but then, neither would the presence of Padmé’s family, let aloneShmi and Kitster. Besides, it would be nice to see Beru again, and Padmé canadmit that she’s desperately curious about this whole situation. So she says,“I don’t see why not.”

Anakin’s face lights up like there’s a sun inside of him,and Padmé looks away, momentarily blinded.

Kitster and Paddy Accu go to meet Beru and Owen, and theyreturn to Varykino by a remarkably and, in Padmé’s opinion, unnecessarilycomplicated route. Anakin is waiting eagerly by the dock. He’s heard a greatdeal about the woman his mother names her daughter, but he’s never actually mether before. Padmé watches him with a soft smile; he reminds her oddly of Aloo,that first time they talked on a vid link.

But Beru doesn’t seem to notice Anakin, Padmé, or anyoneelse. She steps off the hoverboat, Owen’s hand clasped in her own, and hurriesstraight to Shmi, her face alight with joy.

Anakin doesn’t seem affronted – he and Kitster are stillgrinning and elbowing one another, and Shmi is still beaming. There’s obviouslysome context here that’s lost on Padmé.

“Amu,” Beru says, “ek tipalu lukkakina ema nalua.”

“Oh!” Shmi says, laughing and crying at once as sheenvelopes both Beru and Owen in a crushing hug.

Padmé turns to Anakin as surreptitiously as possible andwhispers, “What’s happening?”

Anakin leans down slightly to match her whisper. “Kitsterwas right,” he says. “They got married.”

Padmé blinks in surprise. She’d been sure Kitster wasjoking. “What, without telling anyone?”

Anakin cocks his head to one side and gives her a bemusedgrin. It’s strangely endearing, but she’s not going to think about that rightnow.

“Of course they didn’t tell anyone,” he says. “That wouldbreak the luck.”

Clearly she’s still missing something, some cultural markerprobably, but she’ll have to wait to ask. Shmi has finally released herdaughter and the man who is apparently her new son-in-law, and now it’s timefor introductions.

“Ani, this is my daughter Beru Whitesun, and her husbandOwen Lars,” Shmi says, taking each of their hands in one of hers. “Beru, Owen, thisis my child Anakin Skywalker.”

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Anakin says, offering hishand first to Beru. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you. And Mom says you savedher on that last run.” His smile slips and his voice goes soft and earnest ashe says, “Thank you.”

Beru’s smile is equally serious. “I’ve heard a lot aboutyou, too,” she says. Then something in her eyes turns sly and she says, “And Ihave you to thank for my Republic citizenship.”

Anakin grins. “I remember. That was the one Master Obi-Wanalmost caught me working on. I had to tell him it was a bit of research on thehistory of Republic identification documents. I’m still amazed he believed me.”

Beru laughs, and Anakin moves to shake Owen’s hand, too.Padmé thinks Owen looks just a little nervous, and she can practically see himthinking the word “Jedi,” but he grips Anakin’s hand firmly and offers atentative smile.

“Have you arranged for your kuunaka yet?” Anakin asks themboth, a bit shyly. “If you haven’t, I’d be happy to carve them for you. If youwant.”

Owen nods, his smile more certain now, and Beru grinswidely. “Oh, thank you!” she says. “That would be wonderful.”

Shmi asks if they can use Varykino’s kitchen and Padmé,who’s beginning to despair of ever understanding what’s going on, agrees with ashrug. Shmi leads them all inside, shows Beru and Owen the kitchen, and takes apacket of tzai spices from the pouch at her waist and hands them to Beru withsome ceremony. Then she promptly shoos everyone but the new couple out of thekitchen, following behind to make sure they’ve all left.

Padmé looks at the three Skywalkers gathered in the dininghall and crosses her arms with a huff. “All right,” she says. “Who’s going totell me what’s going on?”

They all laugh. “Beru is teaching Owen her tzai recipe,”Shmi says. “It binds them together as family, and it’s not a secret that can bewitnessed by anyone else.”

“Or it will break the luck?” Padmé asks.

“Something like that,” Anakin says. “The secret isimportant.”

All the most important things on Tatooine are a secret, hetells her. Padmé knows this already, knows about the secret language and thesecret stories and the secrets of the freedom trail. Now she learns thatmarriage, too, is a sacred secret.

Slaves aren’t allowed to marry, of course. Anakin says thismatter-of-factly. It’s just a reality of life. But Padmé can’t help but thinkthat Jedi aren’t allowed to marry, either. It’s completely different, ofcourse, just as the word “master” is completely different. Just as the reasonsfor forbidding contact with family are different. She wonders how often he hasto tell himself that.

On Tatooine, slaves who wish to marry slip away in secret,telling no one of their plans. Marriage vows are spoken between partners andheard only by Ar-Amu and by the desert. They are never shared with anyone. Thenthe newlyweds teach one another their tzai recipes, and create a new blenduniquely their own, a secret that sustains. And, if it’s safe, they inform theGrandmother of the Quarters of their union.

“And then there’s the party!” Kitster says, grinning. “It’snot always safe to have one, but when it is…”

“And what about the – what did you call it, Ani?” Padméasks. “The thing you offered to carve?”

“The kuunaka,” he says. “They’re a pair of japor snippets,to mark the promise. Something small that can be kept in a pouch, that theMasters won’t think has any value. If you get sold apart, you’ll carry thepromise with you, even if you never see each other again.”

“Oh,” says Padmé. He talks about it so easily.

Owen and Beru emerge from the kitchen, carrying a tray withseveral mugs of tzai. They all drink and offer congratulations. It does tastedifferent than the tzai Anakin and Shmi make, though Padmé can’t pinpointexactly what the difference is.

The newlyweds want to hold their celebration in LittleTatooine, but they want Anakin and Padmé to be there, as well. Padmé watchesthe conflict in Anakin’s face as he debates between what he clearly wants and whathe knows to be his assignment. It’s an interesting moment of realization:apparently he’s not quite as glib about his orders as he sometimes pretends tobe.

But Padmé knows what she wants, and she knows what he wants,too, and so she feels no remorse as she takes the decision – and, hopefully,the blame from the Council – out of his hands. “Of course we’ll come,” shesays.

Anakin looks at her sharply. “I’m not supposed to – ” hebegins, but Padmé cheerfully interrupts him.

“I’m going to this wedding, Ani,” she says. “If you want toprotect me you’ll have to come along.”

He hesitates just a moment longer, and then he throws hishead back and laughs.

*

Tatooine weddings, as it turns out, are raucous affairs.There must be hundreds of people here, gathered in Shmi’s house, spilling outinto her backyard and into the street on all sides. Someone has strung lightsin all the trees, an impromptu band has set up in the yard, and there arepeople talking and laughing and dancing everywhere. There’s more food thanPadmé thinks she’s ever seen in one place, not even at the numerous royal andsenatorial events she’s attended.

She’s borrowed a set of clothes from Beru for the event, atBeru’s insistence – and Anakin’s. And now that she’s here, she can understandwhy. Dressed like everyone else, she blends into the crowd, and it’s much lesslikely that any potential assassin would recognize her. And if she’s completelyhonest, it’s actually pretty nice not to be immediately noticeable. It’s been along time since she went to a party just to have fun.

And then there’s Anakin, who hasn’t been to what he calls areal party since he left Tatooine ten years ago. “The rich people parties inthe Senate don’t count,” he tells her, laughing. “Nobody there knows how to really dance.”

“And you do?” Padmé asks him archly. She’s seen his attemptsat a waltz, and they’re not pretty.

But Anakin only grins. “Who do you think taught yoursister?” he asks before spinning away into the crowd in a flash of blue andtrailing laughter.

He’s borrowed his clothes from Kitster, and Padmé has spentmost of the evening trying not to stare. It’s just because he looks sodifferent, she tells herself. She’s used to always seeing him in Jedi robes,and even the disguise he wore on the transport from Coruscant to Naboo didn’tlook terribly different. This is the first time she’s seen him wear anythingthat’s not in shades of brown. His long tunic is a deep, rich blue, worked withdark red embroidery in geometric patterns at the sleeves and hem. Sherecognizes some of the symbols – lukka,the sign for free, and ebra, laughter– but many of them are unfamiliar. And he’s wrapped his padawan braid up andaround the short tail of hair at the back of his head, so it’s unnoticeableunless you know to look for it. That’s something he didn’t even do in disguiseon the transport, and Padmé wonders what it means. Maybe he just wants to blendin. Or maybe it’s something else entirely.

Anakin doesn’t look much like a Jedi tonight, but he doeslook happy – probably happier than she’s ever seen him. That thought bringswith it a tangle of emotions, none of which Padmé really wants to ponder toodeeply.

A cheer goes up as Beru and Owen emerge from the house, bothdressed in blue, their hands clasped together and beaming smiles lighting theirfaces. All the dancing and chatter stops, and a strange anticipatory silencefalls. Padmé looks to Anakin, hoping for some clue, but he only winks at her ashe pulls away from Kitster and the other dancers and makes his way to thenewlyweds.

But when he holds his hands out to Beru and Owen, a snippetof japor resting on each open palm, Padmé understands.

He’s been working on the carvings all day, secluded in hisroom at Varykino, the faint sounds of his off-key humming occasionally emergingfrom behind the closed door. Shmi told her that, like everything else importantin Tatooine culture, the kuunaka have to be made in secret. The songs are partof the blessing, and it’s very important that no one else see the carvingsbefore they’re given to the newlyweds. They’re almost always carved by asibling, Shmi told her, and Padmé understood why Anakin had seemed so excitedwhen Beru accepted his offer.

Now he looks at Beru and her chosen husband with a grin thatthreatens to split his face. “You have spoken secret vows and Ar-Amu has heardthem,” he says. “Receive now the sign of those vows, a secret that death cannotsever and no master can tear asunder.”

Owen and Beru each take a japor snippet. They close theireyes and press the wood to their brows in silence, and then, just as silently,they exchange snippets.

Then Shmi steps forward, her face startlingly serious,bearing a shallow earthen bowl filled with water. She holds it out, and Beruand Owen bend to drink together from it.

Shmi draws back, raises the bowl to the heavens, and says,“May you be found together when the rain comes.” Then she casts the bowl downand it shatters at her feet.

“Chukata lav!” everyone shouts as Beru grabs Owen by the lapelsand kisses him thoroughly. A riot of laughter and cheers surround them, andjust like that, the party has started again.

Padmé loses Anakin in the crowd for a while, but she findsSabé and Yané, who greet her with excited cries and pull her into a fast-movingNaboo circle dance which, somehow, doesn’t feel at all out of place at aTatooine wedding. They spin faster and faster until they all fall down in alaughing heap, and then Sabé springs up again, hauling Padmé and Yané with her,and makes for one of the buffet tables with purpose.

“Sabé, really,” Yané mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t give me that,” Sabé says. “I just saw Imer bring outanother pot of Shmi’s tarmish, and I intend to get some before Ani eats itall.”

Yané rolls her eyes again, but Padmé picks up her pace. “No,that’s actually a valid concern,” she says, as Yané groans in despair.

Padmé can feel the smile nearly splitting her face. She hadn’trealized just how much she’s missed this.

As it turns out, Sabé’s fears were justified: they findKitster and Anakin both camped out next to the tarmish pot, along with astriking woman Padmé recognizes from Kitster’s holos. Ani has a large bowl fullof tarmish, and he’s inhaling it at an impressive rate.

Sabé elbows Anakin bodily aside and practically pounces onthe pot of tarmish. Yané lets out another groan, but she’s right behind Sabé inline all the same. Padmé laughs at them both, but she can’t really blame them.Shmi’s tarmish is legendary.

After everyone has been guaranteed a bowl, Anakin nods at herand says, his mouth full of dumpling, “Padmé, this is Imer Moonspinner, freedomrunner and most likely the love of my brother’s life.”

Kitster squawks indignantly, and Imer snickers at him.Anakin only raises a brow over his now nearly-empty bowl and says, “What? Younever mentioned her even once in your letters, which can only mean one thing.”He turns to Imer and nods very seriously. “I hope you’re prepared to deal withhis drama for the rest of your lives.”

“My drama?”Kitster mutters, glaring pointedly at Anakin. But Imer is smiling softly.

“I think I could manage that,” she says, giving Kitster afond look.

His eyes widen, just for a moment, and then he coughs anddoes his best to hide a rather besotted grin. “Well,” he says. “Yes. In thatcase I guess I won’t be murdering Anakin tonight.”

Anakin scoffs loudly. “Please. As if you even could. Whatare you planning to do, read poetry at me?”

“Nah,” says Kitster easily. “We both know you’d enjoy that.Just like we both know I could destroy you on the dance floor any time, Jedi.”

Anakin slurps up his last dumpling and sets his bowl downwith finality. “Let’s find out,” he says.

Padmé, Sabé, and Yané exchange a puzzled glance. Ani andKitster both sound perfectly serious, but their grins belie their words. Imer,too, is smirking, and as Kitster and Anakin step back from the table, shebegins stomping her feet in a loud, rhythmic beat designed to echo.

Silence falls as those standing nearby turn to look, andthen the stomping is taken up in earnest by a crowd of people who form a ringaround Anakin and Kitster, who are now circling each other in an over-dramaticparody of two fighters. The effect is further ruined by their inability tocontain their gleeful laughter.

The crowd parts briefly to allow Shmi, Beru, and Owen toslip to the fore. Shmi comes to stand beside Padmé, shaking her head fondly.“This should be interesting,” she says.

“Is this another wedding tradition?” Padmé asks her.

“Well, not necessarily,” Shmi says with a laugh. “This isnimdara.” At Padmé’s puzzled look, she adds, “Ani tells me that your sisterAloo and her friend Ahsoka demonstrated nimdara the other day, though theyprobably don’t know it’s called that.”

“Tatooine dancing,” that’s what Aloo had called it. Padméhad been impressed with the grace and artfulness of her sister’s dance, and theway she and Ahsoka seemed to move easily with and around one another.

Now, though, she can see that Aloo wasn’t just being modestwhen she said she was still learning the dance.

Anakin moves first, darting towards Kitster in a smoothlunge so breathtakingly fast that Padmé thinks he must be using the Force –until Kitster moves at the same speed, stepping just slightly to the side atthe last second and then spinning to put Anakin on the defensive. They twistand leap, dip and kick and fall back, their movements almost too fast tofollow, and all the time the stomping and clapping of the gathered crowdincreases in tempo, driving the dancers to ever more frenzied speeds.

Padmé’s genuinely not certain if they’re actually aiming toconnect their attacks and each is just that good at dodging, or if the wholething is choreographed like a fight scene from a holofilm. It’s pretty amazingeither way.

“Wow,” she says, and isn’t even embarrassed when the wordslips out aloud.

Beside her, Shmi chuckles. “Ani’s been practicing,” shesays. “That’s good.” Then she turns to Padmé and gives her a smile edged withsteel. “Nimdara is a form of self-defense, though we call it a dance. TheMasters don’t see any threat in dancing. It’s just one of those quaint,primitive things slaves do.”

And Ani’s been teaching that dance to the younglings, thechildren, in the Jedi Temple.

Caught up in her thoughts, Padmé misses the moment when ithappens, but she comes back with a start when the sound of stomping feet fallsinto sudden silence. And then a great roar goes up, and Padmé sees thatAnakin’s lying on his back on the ground, still looking startled but alreadybeginning to laugh, and Kitster is standing over him with a positively wickedgrin, offering a hand up.

“Did I forget to tell you that I officially reached dragonrank last week?” he asks without even attempting to sound innocent.

Anakin ignores his brother’s hand and flops fully on hisback with a groan. Kitster snickers at him.

“You did forget to mention that, yes,” Anakin grumblesgood-naturedly. “But I don’t mind losing to a dragon. It’s an honor.”

Kitster grins, waggling his hand in Anakin’s face untilAnakin sits up with another groan, takes the hand, and allows himself to bedragged to his feet.

“And I beat a Jedi,” Kitster says, his smug smile not quitehiding the wonder in his eyes. “I am never letting that go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anakin says, waving him off. “We both knowyou’ve always been better than me. But thanks. It’s been a while since I had areal challenge. And since I practiced empty-handed.”

Kitster looks momentarily puzzled, and then his eyes widenin glee. “Nimdara with a lightsaber?”

Anakin grins. “Nimdara with a lightsaber.”

“I hope you’re planning to demonstrate,” Kitster saysseverely. “You’ve been holding out on us.”

“Oh sure, I’ve beenholding out, Mr. Dragon Ranking,” Anakin laughs. “But if you want ademonstration, you’ll get one. Not here, though. Too many people here.”

“Tomorrow, then,” says Kitster, shaking hisfinger in Anakin’s face. “I’m holding you to that.”

[fialleril]

Just found the wedding scene in the Jedi Reformation AU and am utterly captivated. Anakin in his element made me wonder: is there ever a time when he drags a jedi to Little Tattooine and starts indtroducing them to random people who are apparently his family? I sort of see it happening to Ahsoka after she leaves; in any case, jedi confused by Code-thwarting is one of my favorite things.

Hee, thank you! One of the things I’m enjoying most about this AU is the surprising number of opportunities to write the characters actually being happy. It turns out that in a universe where he’s more settled, retains a deep-seated sense of self, and has a strong support structure, Anakin is actually a pretty fun and warm person.

We only got the barest glimpses of that side of him in AOTC, though I do think those glimpses are a big part of what Padme fell in love with (and part of their tragedy is that they were never really happy again, after those few brief days on Naboo). So in this universe, where he’s more consistently playful and happy, and where he also has a strong bent towards justice (sometimes vigilante justice, but let’s not pretend Padme’s not into that) and a cause to which he’s dedicated his life... “utterly captivated” is a pretty good description of her feelings too. ;)

I don’t think Anakin’s going to have many opportunities to visit Little Tatooine, unfortunately, since he could only do so if he had some assignment on Naboo, and was either on his own or else had a credible excuse to ditch Obi-Wan. But it may happen once or twice once he’s knighted and has a padawan of his own.

Further in the future, though... Well, I think eventually a lot of people will get to see and probably be surprised by Anakin’s other life, and the really startlingly large family he’s assembled.

As of the equivalent of ROTS timeframe, he’ll have:

a mother (Shmi)

a father (Obi-Wan)

three sisters (Beru, Aloo, and Ahsoka)

two brothers (Kitster and Owen)

a wife (Padme)

a grandmother (Jocasta)

Plus several people who don’t quite slot into family concepts but are still very close friends (Barriss, Sabe, Yane, Rabe). And a whole crowd of Jedi kids who fit into a Tatooine concept that might translate as “children of the quarters,” meaning kids who are part of your community and therefore people you watch out for and mentor and share stories with, but who aren’t so close that they’re considered direct family.

[padawanlost]

I wonder what would the galaxy do if they find out that Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader? I wonder will they get so angry that they will purge his name out of history?

I don’t think it would be a huge issue becausemost of the galaxy didn’t even know who Anakin Skywalker was. As much as I loveStover’s Hero With No Fear, I don’t think it’s a realistic portrayal of Anakin’srole in galactic history.

He was probably known in the Core but that famewouldn’t have been galaxy wide. I mean, even Darth Vader wasn’t exactly knownby the public. Few people knew enough about Anakin and Darth Vader to feel toomuch about the revelation they were the same person. And the Empire went togreat lengths to keep that knowledge hidden. A lot of records were erased and alot of people died. People who were shocked or disappointed by the revelationwere the ones who had interacted with Anakin/Vader in the past. For everyoneelse it was probably just another case of a Jedi turning evil. It wasn’t a personallife-changing revelation.

When Wald finds out about Anakin being Vaderhis first reaction was denial.

Han took Leia’s handand gave it a little squeeze to break her out of her shock. “It’s just hard tobelieve that a slave grew up to be Darth Vader.”

“Darth Vader?” Waldwaved his palms dismissively. “That’s a lie. Anakin Skywalker never becameDarth Vader.”

“Really?” Leia heard the ice in her tone, butfound herself losing the battle to keep her temper under control. The Rodian’sdenial touched a deep and painful chord, for rejecting the truth of DarthVader’s identity was the same as claiming all his terrible deeds neverhappened. “And you know this how?”

“Because I knew him,”Wald retorted. [TroyDenning’s Tatooine Ghost]

Kitster doesn’t seem to hold a grudge againstAnakin either:

“The boy I knew would have been sorry for whathe had done, and even ten years away would not have changed that. He was stillhis mother’s son.” [TroyDenning’s Tatooine Ghost]

Because Anakin had only a handful of people whotruly knew/loved him, I don’t think most people would ever understand what happened tohim. Those who knew his true self, knew and loved him enough to forgive him and remember himas he was and not what he became. Those who didn’t, were shocked but it was aimpersonal sort of reaction.

“It feels weird.” Jophhad heard the nightmarish stories of Vader s evil deeds his whole life. Yeah, he’dknown Darth Vader had really existed; he wasn’t stupid. But to Joph, Vader hadseemed almost like some folktale creature from stories told to frighten littlechildren so they wouldn’t run away from home. He could hardly wrap his mind around the idea of Vader as a man likeany other, who must have once fallen in love and fathered twin children. Thenagain, the story could be far darker.

“Do you think DarthVader assaulted Queen Amidala?” he ventured.

“I thought of thatlast night,” Greer said heavily. “But no. I’ve helped the senator researchQueen Amidala, so I plugged in some of the data last night. The queen diedbefore the first records of Vader ever appear.”

So, a man named AnakinSkywalker had become a Jedi Knight, fought courageously in the Clone Wars, andwon the love of a senator-queen…and had still chosen to become a monster. Joph shuddered.[Claudia Grey’s Bloodline]

As for his name being purged from history… italready was. Palpatine destroy almost everything related to the Jedi Order.Keeping the identity of Jedi heroes accessible to the public would have been counterproductivefor the Empire. Names like Anakin Skywalker, Obi-wan Kenobi, Mace Windu andYoda were discredited and erased by the Empire, so only few people would knowthey had existed. Leia had to do a lot of research to find more about Padméeven though she still beloved by the Naboo. For the average citizen findinginformation on Anakin Skywalker would be nearly impossible. Even Luke had to goback to Tatooine and ask around to find out the little he knew.

Some people figured it out (people who werealive during the Clone Wars, journalists, senators, etc) but I don’t believe itever became common knowledge throughout the entire galaxy or that it evercaused such a public uproar that they demanded his named to be erased fromhistory.