#Slave Obi-Wan

[elrhiarhodan]

Excerpt from Chapter 26 - Eternity is a Perfected Form of Loneliness

He’s tucking in his tunic when, of all things, Master Yoda just barges into Vokara’s office, and that weird feeling just gets even worse. The little green troll doesn’t say anything, he just looks at the two of them, and waits for Vokara to pull out a Yoda-sized seat for him.

"Hmm, thank you."  And Yoda gets right down to business.  "Much to discuss we have."

"We do?"  Obi-Wan wonders just what Yoda knows about him.  Maybe, by some miracle, everything?  After all, Yoda frequently goes to Ilum and experiences visions in the caverns there.  This "Force’s Champion" business would be so much easier if he had Yoda’s help.  But that still doesn’t explain Vokara’s presence and why here and now, and not during their twice-weekly afternoon teas?

"Yes, yes.  Much business.  About your midi-chlorians, foolish things they are."

His heart sinks.  Oh well, so much for hope.  "What about them?"

"About the discovery of the midi-chlorians, what know you?"

"Not much, Master Yoda."  That’s the absolute truth, in the timeline and his original life.  Midi-chlorians were simply a fact of life, of being a Jedi, and they were mostly shrouded in mystery.

"Youngling I was, barely able to speak, when Jedi scientists isolated midi-chlorians in living matter.  Destroyed the mystery and the beauty of our connection to the Force.  Quantified everything.  To a number, reduced it all.  A percentage."  Master Yoda thumps his stick on the floor, clearly annoyed.  "No good comes of this knowledge."

Obi-Wan sneaks a glance at Master Che, and she’s grimacing at the denigration of her work.

"But, useful it is.  And as it may be, progress we must.  Visions I had of you, before we met on Tatooine.  Of Light, and of Darkness too.  Of the great battle between.  Pivot point you may be, young Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan nods.  This is good.  Yoda sees part of the picture.  Not everything, but a part of it.  Except that he’s seeing the wrong part, apparently.  A part that Obi-Wan isn’t the least bit prepared for.

"Your midi-chlorians.  Unique they are."

"Well, I do have an awful lot of them."

The little green troll chuckles.  "Brilliant understatement that is.  Would knight you for that, if I could."

"Well, I’m glad you can’t, because I’m not the least bit ready."

Yoda hops off his seat and toddles over to Obi-Wan, staring up at him, his dark eyes as fathomless as space.  "To me, you must listen.  Important what I have to tell you."

"I always listen to you, Grand Master."

"Yes, yes.  You do.  Good padawan you are.  Proud of you I am."  Yoda sighs, his ears drooping just a bit.  "The Force, a great gift it has given you.  Your midi-chlorians, immortal they are."

[mudpuddless]

AU where Obi-wan is Can Drallig's illegitimate son except of course everyone knows and no one cares except for qui-gon of course.

based on this post by @twinterrors29

[penelopwgarcia]

comparing obi wan's to anakin's trajectory is a jackass move cause yeah, obi wan never had it easy and had plenty reasons to fall as well but he didn't have the pressure to be perfect as chosen one, he didn't have a fucking vulture preying on his relationships and overall life; he didn't have to take of a 14yo on the middle of a war when he was 19, yes he watched his mentor die but that's quite differently from dreaming about your mom being tortured to death for days and not been able to save her to then years later you have the same goddamn dream about your wife. the order you serve isn't the same anymore the republic you fought for isn't nearly as perfect and your mentor is asking you to spy on the only guy that seems reliable to you - but the same mentor lied to you before, you thought he had died, what more lies do the council are telling him now?

so yeah anakin lost many things and a lot of things happened to him but it's unfair to compare with obi wan life - who did lost many people - because they're way different. Anakin not only lost people and confidence and security he was also manipulated into slavery again and I'm so done with people treating him like a whiny baby that did stupid because he truly believed palpatine was going to help him - what evidence shows he wouldn't? palpatine preyed and groomed anakin since he was 9 and the jedi thought it was cool a child hanging out with a stranger but everyone going to point at the victim to choose what seemed the only way for him

[sad-trash-hobo]

You know what. I get why Anakin went to the darkside. You're gonna show me the Phantom Menace and hear Qui Gon tell Anakins mother that he isn't there to free the slaves, just pick up her son on a whim. And then to have him go and return Jabbas son, JABBAS SON, back to him? After he was owned by Gardulla? And no one says that that was inappropriate to have him do. And then in the Zygeria arc for Anakin to be upset about slavers, as he should, and Obi Wan tell Ahsoka that Anakin and his mother were sold into slavery so it's a touchy subject for him. He wasn't even sold into slavery. He was born into it! And this was Obi Wan, Anakins supposed brother? Shocking that Anakin would feel so betrayed and undervalued that he would go to the dark side. Anakin shouldn't have ever been a jedi. He should've been in therapy on Naboo with his wife. I love you Obi Wan, but you really did fail and I also hate you, in this essay I will-

[susanoosama01]

Sith!Obi-Wan is up to no good!

The fic for this art is still in my WIP folder but...

[lawsofchaos1]

Star Wars Promptlet

In one universe Obi-Wan Kenobi bows shallowly at the end of his formal report of the Battle of Naboo and requests the Council free the mother of his new Padawan from slavery on Tatooine. The Council makes agreeable noises and Obi-Wan tells himself that they will act on his request. However, wary of being accused of attachment, wary of his Padawan being taken away from him because he's too young, too inexperienced, too emotional, too much of a failure, Obi-Wan never checks and he never asks again.

In another universe, Obi-Wan Kenobi sees the dismissive body language of the Counselors during his report - it can't possibly be a Sith they whisper in the eddies of the Force - and he doesn't make a request before he leaves. Instead, he shows up at Quinlan's door in the middle of the Temple's night cycle and his creche mate takes one look at his face before putting on his Shadow blacks and sneaking them past the Temple guard.

Forty one cycles later, Obi-Wan picks Anakin up from where he'd been undergoing the crash course of So You Think You Want To Be A Jedi Knight in the Initiate's hall (which went shockingly well, Anakin making friends left and right and filling in some severe baseline knowledge gaps most of the Temple inhabitants took for granted). He hands his Padawan a small, carved bracelet - a broken chain - made from one of the few native plants of Tatooine, a gift from Shmi, and watches Anakin's eyes grow liquid-wet in joy and wonder.

Most people gloss over that Qui-Gon had bought Anakin and not Freed him, Anakin had noticed. Obi-Wan never needed to be told the difference. And Obi-Wan hadn't bought Shmi, he'd simply provided her what she needed to Free herself. And maybe a substantial portion of the Mos Epsa slave quarters along with her. (But that pesky little slave rebellion that started while Obi-Wan and Quinlan just so happened to be on planet absolutely definitely for sure couldn't be traced back to them. They'd made certain of that.)

The Temple still just shy of outright forbids Padawans contact with their birth parents, but every so often - although at least once a year - Obi-Wan sends Anakin on some strange errand that inevitably ends with him slipping into a booth and finding himself sitting next to his mother for a few precious hours of catching up. Their first meeting (after hearing all about how his mother Freed herself and so many others of course) is all about the new friends he made during his moon-cycle in the Initiate's dorms and how four of them have decided to claim him as a crechemate since apparently every Jedi needs crechemates and he came in too old to get them the normal way. Anakin thinks from watching Obi-Wan with Quinlan and Bant and Garen that this means he has siblings now.

(A few years later Anakin's definitely-siblings get sent with him on his weird errand that happens to be on Anakin's life-day and Shmi makes them all a cup of desert-scented tea and welcomes them into the family. Anakin doesn't cry, it's just the steam from the tea making his cheeks wet.)

When Palpatine starts showing a little too much interest in a young Padawan, Anakin listens when Obi-Wan warns him something might be wrong. After all, his Teacher is a Chain-Breaker- why would Anakin doubt him when his words suggest that Palpatine may be too close to a Depur to be trusted? His crechemates also don't like it and his mother says words he didn't know she knew in her own reaction.

The anonymous report Anakin submits to the Senate Guards that they might want to check in on Senator Palpatine and his creepy obsession with young kids stays anonymous, but it does get leaked and the ensuing media storm starts strong and ends stronger with the discovery of a Sith Master.

In short, Obi-Wan helps Shmi Free herself and a war that breaks a galaxy never starts.

[fandumb-thoughts]

I love the idea of Anakin sneaking people into his bedroom or whatever to surgically remove slave chips and everyone thinking he sleeps around (I have ZERO clue what fanfic that might’ve been from, but it 100% came from a fanfic that I read) because imagining a conversation about it is so funny.

Obi-Wan: So, you and Padmé. Anakin: Since when is this your business? Obi-Wan: Since you made me turn a blind eye at every goddamn opportunity you had to sneak someone into your room. Anakin: Okay, but—to be fair—I didn’t sleep with any of them. Obi-Wan, who has operated thus far as under the impression that his former padawan was a high-key slut: You never what.

[innercreationyouth]

Where the Force leads

In honour of the person who created Tatooine Slave culture, it's not mine, clearly, as many know. It's a very interesting culture for sure, but I know too little about it and I really like mandalorian culture more.

Also I adore time-travelling Ben. He's tired, weary and would like a drink. And I also adore blakkats (gosh, did I write it right? I'll have to check) portrayal of Jon Antilles.

Chapter 1. A Master without a purpose.

Chapter 2 here

In the deserts of Tatooine, Ben Kenobi lives in exile, haunted by the fall of Anakin Skywalker. When the Force whispers cryptic visions of a distant planet, Korda Six, Ben is drawn into a mysterious journey that challenges his solitude and guilt. As he uncovers the truth about his past failures, Ben must confront his role in the galaxy’s fate. This is a tale of loss, hope, and the enduring power of the Force.

The twin suns of Tatooine hung low in the vast, unforgiving sky, their relentless heat bathing the planet in an oppressive golden light. The sands stretched to infinity, shifting dunes whispering secrets to the dry, desert winds. It was a harsh world, where life clung desperately to whatever shade or moisture it could find, and every breath felt like a struggle against the elements.

Outside a modest, weatherworn shack perched on a ridge overlooking the desolation, an old man sat cross-legged on a simple wooden porch. He was draped in rough robes, his face lined with age, sunburn, and sorrow. Ben Kenobi—known once as Obi-Wan—closed his eyes, the faint hum of the Force stirring within him like a dying ember. He meditated, letting the stillness of the desert mirror the stillness he sought inside.

But there was no peace. Not today.

His thoughts drifted, as they often did, to the boy he had raised like a son. Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One. The memory of his wide-eyed, eager smile burned brighter in Ben's mind than the twin suns before him. Then the smile twisted, darkened, became the visage of Darth Vader—his greatest failure. The air around Ben seemed to grow heavier as he relived it all once more.

What could I have done differently? The question plagued him daily. He had loved Anakin, trained him, guided him. And yet, the boy had fallen so far, taking the galaxy with him.

Ben sighed, the sound heavy with guilt. He whispered into the silence, “Was it my fault?”

At first, there was no answer. Just the faint hiss of the wind scraping over sand. But then, soft and clear, a voice echoed in his mind. Young, curious, and yet carrying an unmistakable weight of insight.

"Do you truly think it was your fault?"

Ben's eyes snapped open, his heart skipping. The voice wasn't his own, nor was it a memory. It felt... present. Familiar and unfamiliar all at once. He looked around the empty desert, scanning the horizon for something—anything—that might explain it.

He closed his eyes again, reaching deeper into the Force, letting it flow through him. The voice lingered, steady and calm, as if it came not from outside but from the very heart of the Force itself.

"You did what you thought was right. But was it? Or are you just trying to carry a weight too heavy for one man?"

Ben clenched his fists, the wind tugging at his robes as if to pull him back to reality. He swallowed hard, a bitter lump forming in his throat.

“I was his master,” Ben whispered. “I failed him. If I’d been better... if I’d seen the darkness sooner...”

"Would it have changed him? Or would he have fallen all the same?"

The words stung, cutting through Ben’s practiced defenses. They forced him to question the narrative he’d clung to for years. The old Jedi sat in silence, the desert wind his only companion as the voice faded, leaving him alone once more.

The twin suns dipped lower, casting long shadows over the sand. Ben opened his eyes, staring into the horizon. He didn’t have an answer—not yet. But the question lingered, echoing in the corners of his mind.

And for the first time in years, he wondered if he could let go.

___

The twin suns were dipping below the horizon, painting the Tatooine sky with streaks of orange and purple as Ben Kenobi trudged back to his modest shack. His arms carried a small bundle of supplies he’d picked up in Mos Eisley—a few dried rations, some water, and a handful of vegetables he’d bartered for with what little he had left. The desert winds swirled around him, tugging at his robes, carrying the faint scent of sand and dry stone.

His thoughts were simple as he walked: survival, reflection, and the quiet monotony of the days stretching before him. But as he approached the ridge leading to his home, a familiar sensation brushed against his consciousness—like a whisper carried on the wind.

"Would you change anything if you could?"

Ben froze in his tracks, his grip tightening on the bundle of food. The voice was back. The same young, curious tone that had spoken to him weeks earlier. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, shaking it off as some trick of his weary mind. But something about it was undeniable—its presence felt rooted in the Force itself, as real as the ground beneath his feet.

He exhaled sharply, setting the bundle down on a nearby rock. “I’ve thought about it,” he said aloud, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Of course I’ve thought about it. But I did everything I could with what I knew at the time. What’s left for me now is to reflect.”

The voice responded with a soft chuckle, its tone light but tinged with something deeper—understanding, perhaps.

"That’s what your Master would say."

Ben sighed heavily, running a hand through his graying hair. The mention of his old Master stirred a deep ache in his chest. “Well, I suppose he was right about many things. Though I doubt he’d approve of me standing here, talking to myself like a madman.”

For a moment, silence reigned. Then a thought flickered through his mind, unbidden but persistent: All is possible through the Force.

The voice seemed to sense it.

"What if everything began to spiral far earlier than you think it did?"

Ben’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “Why does that matter now?” he asked, his tone edged with frustration. “The galaxy’s already fallen to darkness. What good does it do to dwell on the past?”

The voice didn’t answer immediately. Instead, it whispered one word, so soft it seemed to blend with the wind itself:

"Patience."

And then it was gone. In its place, an image bloomed in Ben’s mind—vivid, clear, and unmistakable. It was a planet, foreign and unfamiliar. He could see jagged cliffs, dense forests, and a sky that seemed to shimmer with strange hues. And with the image came a name, etched into his thoughts as if burned there by the Force itself: Korda Six.

Ben staggered slightly, gripping the rock beside him for balance. He whispered the name aloud, testing its weight on his tongue. “Korda Six... What does that mean?”

There was no answer. Only the whistle of the wind and the endless expanse of desert stretching before him. He stood there for a long moment, the food bundle forgotten at his feet, staring into the horizon as the suns dipped below the sands.

Korda Six.

He didn’t understand it. Not yet. But the Force was stirring, and Ben Kenobi knew better than to ignore its call.

That night, sleep did not come easily to Ben Kenobi. He lay on the small cot in his shack, staring at the ceiling, his mind swirling with questions. Korda Six. What does it mean? Why now? The voice’s whispers had unsettled him in ways he couldn’t quite name, yet there was an undeniable pull.

The desert winds moaned outside, their steady rhythm lulling him into uneasy slumber. But even in sleep, his mind felt restless, skimming the edges of dreams that shimmered with light too brilliant to hold.

When morning came, Ben awoke slowly, the golden light of Tatooine’s twin suns creeping through the slats of his window. At first, it seemed like any other day, but then he sat up and froze. Something in the air had changed.

The oppressive weight of the desert heat, the dull heaviness that had hung over the planet for years—it was gone. In its place, there was a stillness, a balance, a lightness so profound that it took Ben’s breath away. He closed his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if he were a child again, before the war, before he’d even been taken as a Padawan. Back when the Force had been pure and unclouded.

He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes as the sensation washed over him. He didn’t know why, but the sheer scale of the light present in the Force was overwhelming. It was everywhere, suffusing every particle of air, touching the farthest corners of his consciousness. It was as though the galaxy itself had momentarily remembered what it was to be whole.

He stood, his movements slow, almost reverent, as he took in his surroundings. His shack—weathered and rusted by years of Tatooine’s harsh climate—looked... different. The walls seemed sturdier, the metal less corroded, as though time had rolled back. Yet, stepping outside, he saw that the planet itself remained unchanged. The sands still stretched endlessly under the twin suns, and the heat still beat down with relentless intensity.

Ben frowned, his mind racing. What is happening?

Shaking himself from his reverie, he decided to stick to his routine. Whatever this shift was, he couldn’t afford to lose focus. His life here depended on careful habits, and the trek to Mos Eisley was one of them.

Gathering his belongings, he wrapped himself in his robes and began the familiar journey through the desert. The sands crunched beneath his boots as the heat rose in shimmering waves around him. But as he walked, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Force itself was walking beside him, whispering a single word in his mind:

"Patience."

It was as though the voice, the presence, wasn’t just lingering—it was guiding. Ben glanced back over his shoulder at his home, then ahead toward the distant outline of Mos Eisley. His steps felt lighter, though his heart remained heavy with questions.

And so he walked, through the sands, under the burning suns, with the whispers of the Force as his only companion.

Mos Eisley was alive with the ceaseless hum of activity. The sprawling, chaotic spaceport buzzed with the energy of its denizens—humans, Rodians, Twi’leks, Jawas, and countless others, all hurrying through the dusty streets. The harsh desert sun reflected off metallic droids and ships parked haphazardly near cantinas and markets. It was a brutal existence, but here, survival was business as usual.

Ben Kenobi stepped cautiously into the fray, his hood pulled low to shield his face from both the sun and prying eyes. He wove through the crowds, his senses tuned to the ebb and flow of the Force, as he always did when venturing into town. But as he passed a merchant stall laden with strange fruits and a group of traders haggling over salvage, something struck him as odd.

The usual murmurs of Mos Eisley life—grumbles about harsh conditions, bartering disputes, and whispers of fear regarding the Empire—were strangely absent. Instead, the air was thick with chatter about a name Ben hadn’t heard in years: Gardulla the Hutt.

He paused near a cluster of merchants, feigning interest in their wares while tuning into their conversation.

“…she’s been tightening her hold on the spaceports again. Trying to bring in more spice routes through here…”

“…Gardulla’s not one to cross. You remember what happened to those Trandoshan smugglers…”

“…Jabba might be watching, but Gardulla’s the one with real power right now. Always was.”

Ben’s brow furrowed beneath his hood. Gardulla the Hutt? That didn’t make sense. Gardulla had been a prominent figure on Tatooine once, true—but that was long ago, before Jabba had taken control. Anakin had spoken of it once, back when he was still a boy on the cusp of his Jedi training. He’d said Gardulla lost a high-stakes game of sabacc to Jabba shortly after he was born. That game had been pivotal, marking the transfer of power between the two Hutt crime lords.

Yet here, people spoke of Gardulla as if she were the reigning Daimyo, her influence as strong as ever. Ben’s stomach churned uneasily. Something was wrong.

He drifted further into the crowd, listening carefully to other snippets of conversation. Everywhere he turned, the same name arose. Gardulla the Hutt. Her control over Tatooine. Her dealings with off-world syndicates. Her dominance in Mos Eisley. There was no mention of Jabba’s reign, and even stranger, there was no mention of the Empire—no stormtroopers, no Imperial edicts, no fear of the Emperor’s shadow.

Ben’s pulse quickened as realization dawned. The world around him felt familiar, yet the details were out of place. It was as though he were walking through a memory—a Tatooine from decades past. He clenched his jaw and drew his robes tighter around him. He needed confirmation.

He headed toward a cantina he frequented sparingly—a dark, loud place where smugglers and pilots often gathered to exchange information. The air was thick with smoke and the low hum of conversation when he entered. He scanned the room quickly, noting the usual mix of species crowded around tables and at the bar. The cantina band played a jaunty tune in the corner, but Ben ignored it.

He approached the bar, catching the attention of the barkeep, a grizzled human with an impatient scowl.

“Water,” Ben said quietly, sliding a few credits across the counter.

The barkeep nodded and handed him a small glass. Ben leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low. “I’ve been hearing talk of Gardulla the Hutt. Is she really... in charge again?”

The barkeep raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Again? What’re you talking about, old-timer? Gardulla’s always been the Daimyo ’round here. Ever since I was a kid. You feeling alright?”

Ben’s heart sank. The man’s words confirmed what the Force had already been whispering to him: something had shifted, pulling him into a time that wasn’t his own. Or perhaps it wasn’t time at all—perhaps it was something far stranger.

He drained the glass of water, the cool liquid doing little to calm his nerves, and placed it back on the counter. As he turned to leave, the barkeep called after him.

“Hey, if you’re worried about Jabba or something, don’t be. Gardulla’s got this place locked down. Always has.”

Ben didn’t respond. He pulled his hood tighter over his head and stepped back into the glaring suns of Tatooine, his mind racing.

What is happening? Why here, why now?

The Force was pulling him toward something—he was sure of it. And whatever it was, it had begun with Korda Six.

Gardulla’s rule over Tatooine was brutal, a reign of cruelty that eclipsed even Jabba’s infamous tenure. The streets of Mos Eisley bore silent witness to her greed and ruthlessness: more slaves shuffled through the dusty markets in chains, their eyes hollowed by exhaustion and despair. Public executions were a grim spectacle in the town square, their frequency a warning to any who dared resist. Food and water were scarcer than ever, hoarded by the Hutt for her own indulgence while the rest of the population scraped by on meager scraps.

Ben Kenobi walked through the chaos, his hood pulled low to conceal his face. His once-vivid ginger hair, now streaked with gray, remained hidden beneath the heavy fabric. It was dangerous to be seen here, especially as a Stewjonian. His sharp features and fair complexion would stand out far too much in this region, and his heritage alone could invite trouble. Worse still, being Force-sensitive—an Aethe’rith, as the Amatakka called it—would mark him for far greater dangers.

Keeping to the shadows, he approached a modest fruit stand at the edge of the market. The vendor, an older woman with weathered skin and a sharp gaze, was arranging a basket of pali fruit. Ben lingered just long enough to catch her attention.

“Looking for something, traveler?” she asked, her voice low but wary.

Ben leaned in slightly, keeping his tone measured. “Just information,” he said, his Amatakka hesitant but serviceable. It had been years since he’d spoken the language, a skill he’d picked up long ago in the mines of Bandomeer.

The woman’s eyes widened slightly, her hands pausing mid-motion. Her expression shifted from suspicion to something warmer, almost reverent. “Aethe’rith,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “You are Dai'Je, aren’t you? A freed one.”

Ben stiffened, glancing around to ensure no one had overheard. The market was noisy, but the wrong pair of ears could turn her words into a death sentence for them both. He gestured quickly for her to lower her voice.

“Please,” he said, his Amatakka faltering as he searched for the right words. “Speak... quieter. We might be overheard by depur.”

The woman immediately dipped her head in apology, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Forgive me, Dai'Je. I meant no harm. It’s just... I never thought I’d see one of you here, in this place.”

Ben’s gaze softened, but he remained cautious. “What do you mean?”

She glanced around nervously, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her shawl. “I’ve had dreams,” she said, her words coming slowly as though she were choosing them carefully. “Dreams of a man in a hood, a Dai'Je, walking these sands. I didn’t know if it was real, but now...” She looked at him with a mix of awe and desperation. “Now I see it was true. You’ve come.”

Ben shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “I don’t know what you’ve seen,” he said carefully, “but I’m no savior. I’m just... passing through.”

The woman shook her head firmly. “No. You are here for a reason. I feel it. The Force brought you here.” She leaned in closer, her voice barely more than a breath. “I will help you however I can—when my depur isn’t watching.”

Ben hesitated, his instincts urging him to retreat, to disappear back into the anonymity of the desert. But the conviction in her voice, the light in her eyes—it reminded him of something, of someone. He nodded slowly, his heart heavy with uncertainty.

“Thank you,” he said, his Amatakka halting but earnest. “But be careful. Helping me could cost you everything.”

The woman smiled faintly, a trace of defiance flickering across her face. “Gardulla has already taken everything from me. She can’t take my dreams.”

Ben lowered his hood just slightly, enough for her to see his face and the gratitude etched into his features. He turned and melted back into the crowd, his mind racing. The voice in the Force, the whispers of patience, the image of Korda Six—everything was connected. And now, it seemed, the people of this harsh world were beginning to sense it too.

The sun was setting over Tatooine, painting the desert sky with deep reds and purples as Ben Kenobi made his way through the quieting streets of Mos Eisley. The market stalls were closing up, merchants packing away their wares as the day's trade dwindled. He spotted the woman from the fruit stand gathering her meager belongings into a woven sack, her movements slow and weary.

As he approached, she looked up and gave a faint smile. “You came,” she said softly, glancing around to ensure no one was watching.

“You offered your help,” Ben replied, his voice equally quiet. “I wasn’t sure if it still stood.”

“Of course it does,” she said, slinging the sack over her shoulder. She gestured for him to follow. “Come. It’s not safe to talk out here.”

Ben trailed her through the narrow streets, keeping his hood low as they wound their way toward the outskirts of the settlement. Her small house was barely more than a hovel, its walls cracked and weathered by years of sandstorms. It reminded Ben painfully of his own shack when he’d first begun his exile, its decay a reflection of the harsh life endured here.

She unlocked the door and ushered him inside. The space was sparse, with little more than a cot, a rickety table, and a few cooking implements. A single, flickering glow panel illuminated the room. She set her belongings down and turned to him with a weary smile.

“Please, sit,” she said, gesturing to one of the two wooden stools by the table.

Ben hesitated but eventually sat, his movements careful. The woman filled a small cup with water from a clay jug and placed it in front of him.

“You must be thirsty after the walk,” she said.

He looked at the cup, then at her. “You need it more than I do,” he said gently. “But thank you for offering.”

She shook her head and pushed it closer to him. “It’s all I have to give, Dai'Je. Please, take it.”

Reluctantly, Ben lifted the cup and took a small sip, the cool water soothing his parched throat. He set it down, offering her a grateful nod.

After a moment, he leaned forward, his voice low and intent. “I need to ask you something. Is space travel... possible for one person? Discreetly?”

The woman frowned, her brows knitting together in thought. “It’s... possible, maybe. But dangerous. Especially for you.” She paused, considering. “My brother works at the spaceport. I could ask him in a couple of days, but I can’t promise he’ll help. It’s not safe to aid an Amatakka. The depur would punish him severely if they found out.”

Ben nodded slowly, understanding the risk. “I won’t ask him to put himself in danger. All I need is information—details about ships leaving the planet, their routes. If he can provide that, I can handle the rest.”

She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded. “I’ll speak to him. Quietly. But it will take time. These things can’t be rushed.”

“I understand,” Ben said. “And I’m grateful.”

The woman gave a small, tired smile. “You remind me of the stories my mother used to tell. Of the Dai'Je who walked among us, bringing hope even in the darkest times.” She shook her head. “I never thought I’d live to see one. But here you are.”

Ben looked down at his hands, his heart heavy. “I’m no bringer of hope,” he said quietly. “I’m just a man trying to make sense of all this.”

She didn’t respond, instead turning to tend to the small fire in the corner of the room. The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable but weighted with unspoken truths.

As the stars began to peek through the small window above them, Ben felt the Force stir around him once more, its whispers faint but insistent. Patience.

He sighed and settled into the stillness, waiting for what was to come.

Three days later, the scorching heat of Tatooine was as relentless as ever, the twin suns glaring down as Ben Kenobi made his final preparations. The woman's information had been invaluable: a Weequay cargo ship was set to leave the planet that evening. It was the opportunity he needed, though he still didn’t fully understand why the Force had led him here—or where it would lead him next.

The night before, she had come to him, her face lined with exhaustion but her voice steady.

“The ship will leave under cover of night,” she had said. “They’re smugglers—no manifests, no questions. If you’re careful, you can slip aboard unnoticed.”

Ben had paused, studying her intently. “Why did you help me?” he asked quietly. “I wasn’t here to free you. Or anyone. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

She had smiled faintly, her eyes soft with understanding. “You don’t need to know yet. When the time is right, you will.”

Her words had struck a chord deep within him, stirring echoes of lessons long past. He had thanked her profoundly, bowing his head as he handed her the remainder of his food and water.

“You need these more than I do,” he had said.

She had tried to refuse, but he insisted, pressing the bundle into her hands. “For everything you’ve done. I owe you more than I can repay.”

Now, as the night descended on Tatooine, Ben moved carefully through the shadows of Mos Eisley’s outskirts. The spaceport was a labyrinth of ships, cargo crates, and scurrying workers, their movements lit by the dim glow of scattered floodlights. He kept his hood low, blending into the darkness as he approached the Weequay vessel.

The ship was a battered freighter, its hull marked with scorch marks and rust. A group of Weequay crew members was loading crates onto the ramp, their voices gruff as they barked orders to one another. Ben waited, watching their patterns, his instincts sharp.

When the moment came, he moved swiftly, slipping between crates and shadows until he reached the ship’s open cargo bay. The hum of machinery and the low murmur of the crew provided cover for his movements as he found a narrow space to hide behind a stack of supplies.

The minutes stretched into hours as the crew continued their work. Ben remained perfectly still, his breathing steady, his senses attuned to every sound. Finally, the ramp groaned as it lifted, sealing the cargo bay with a heavy clang. The ship shuddered as its engines roared to life, and Ben felt the subtle shift of liftoff as they left the planet behind.

He stayed hidden for a long while, his mind racing with thoughts of the woman, her words, and the strange pull of the Force that had brought him here. He didn’t know where this ship would take him, but for the first time in years, he felt a glimmer of purpose stirring within him.

As Tatooine faded into the void of space, Ben Kenobi closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Patience, the Force whispered again, steady and unyielding.

He would wait.

___

Ben Kenobi moved cautiously through the industrial sprawl of Corellia, keeping to the shadows of the bustling starship yards. The Weequay cargo ship had docked hours ago, and he had slipped away unnoticed, his hood still drawn low. Corellia’s vibrant and chaotic spaceports were filled with ships of every size and design, and while that made it easier to blend in, it also meant finding the right vessel could take time.

He searched for something inconspicuous, a ship that wouldn’t attract too much attention—nothing too sleek or militarized, but sturdy enough for interstellar travel. Eventually, he spotted it: a battered freighter with peeling paint and mismatched panels, docked near a quieter part of the yard.

Ben approached cautiously, scanning the area to ensure no one was watching. The spaceport workers were preoccupied with larger, more lucrative ships, leaving this one relatively unguarded. He placed his hand on the hull, the cold metal humming faintly beneath his fingers.

This will do, he thought.

He reached for the control panel near the access hatch, his fingers brushing the buttons as he focused his mind. The memory came unbidden, warm and vivid—a flash of his younger self, sitting cross-legged in a training room, watching Quinlan Vos demonstrate the technique.

“Not everything requires finesse, kid,” Quinlan had said with a grin, his hands working quickly to short-circuit a panel. “Sometimes you just gotta get it done.”

Ben, still an initiate at the time, had furrowed his brow, frustrated by his own attempts. “But Master Yoda says patience and precision—”

Quinlan had cut him off with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, patience is great. But sometimes, you need to improvise. The galaxy isn’t always going to wait for you to do it Yoda’s way.”

He had knelt beside Ben, showing him the sequence again, the Force flowing effortlessly through him as he manipulated the circuits. The air had felt alive then, the Force warm and welcoming, a shared connection that made the galaxy seem just a little smaller.

Ben smiled faintly at the memory, his hands moving instinctively now as he bypassed the freighter’s security. The panel sparked softly, and the hatch slid open with a quiet hiss.

Once inside, he quickly made his way to the cockpit, settling into the pilot’s seat. The ship was old but functional, its controls straightforward enough for him to manage. He powered it up, the hum of the engines filling the cabin as he accessed the navigation computer.

“Korda Six,” he murmured, typing the name into the search interface. The computer processed for a moment before displaying a set of coordinates. Ben entered them into the hyperdrive, locking in the destination.

As the ship prepared for the jump to hyperspace, he turned his attention to the datapad left on the console. It connected to the Holonet, offering a sparse collection of information about Korda Six.

The planet was remote, with a population primarily composed of non-advanced locals. It seemed to have little interaction with the wider galaxy, though there were mentions of Mandalorian activity in the region.

Ben sighed, setting the datapad down. The mention of Mandalorians was no surprise. Somehow, everything in his life seemed to circle back to them. It was a peculiar echo of how the Force had always drawn Anakin back to Tatooine, no matter how far he tried to run from it.

The freighter lurched as the hyperdrive engaged, the stars outside stretching into lines of light before dissolving into the swirling blue of hyperspace.

Ben leaned back in the pilot’s seat, his gaze distant. The Force was still guiding him, though its purpose remained unclear. He would find out soon enough.

For now, all he could do was wait.

[thegreenlizard]

Bare beskar

On the eve of marching to war, Obi-Wan makes plans and digs out his old armour. Musings on Mandalorian armour and culture, the ethics of commanding slave soldiers and how that affects one’s self-image.

Could be the same AU as “Not Obi-Wan’s first slave uprising” and “What makes a military genius” (where Obi-Wan is presented with a battalion of slave soldiers, says please and thank you, and starts plotting how to take down the slavers).

Obi-Wan has Mandalorian armour, courtesy of the Kyr’tsad who failed to kill him when he was seventeen and running for his life on Mandalore. The Jedi frown on such soldierly things, so the armour has mostly gathered dust in his closet for the past decade and some. But Obi-Wan has fought in a war before and recognises that no matter how good one is, sometimes armour is all that stands between bleeding out in a ditch and living to fight another day.

So on the eve of marching to war, Obi-Wan digs out his armour to clean and repair and condition every piece. He looks at its light green for peace and green for duty, the order’s wings on one pauldron/over his heart. He strips it all off. He has no right to wear any of it now, and the bare beskar is a statement of its own.

Plus

- Feels about how bare unpainted beskar could be silver for seeking redemption, disavowing all ties (in that there’s no one and nothing to paint his armour for), for being an outcast (which in his heart, he has already decided to become), or all of them. Leading a slave army to war is really really not in the Jedi mission statement. Obi-Wan, having experienced his own stints as a slave, having brought up a padawan who was born a slave, and having already left the order once for an army of child soldiers—well, he has some feels about it.

- Obi-Wan’s closet doesn’t just have armour, it also has a veritable armoury of, ah, useful souvenirs from his various missions. Maybe it makes him a bad Jedi, but Obi-Wan has some difficulty with letting go of possessions that have saved his life. Such as the sniper rifle from Melidaan, a blaster from here, and a vibroblade from there…

- Cody’s/The 212th’s reactions to their Jedi whose luggage apparently includes a full set of arms and armour and little else.

- There’s a story that armour tells for anyone who can read it and I wonder if the clones could. There are only a few things that a completely unpainted beskar’gam could mean. Either it’s completely new and the owner hasn’t had time yet to paint it. But Kenobi’s beskar’gam isn’t new: the metal has scrapes all over it and some fittings are clearly newer than others. It could be second hand, but as the weeks pass, the metal stays bare. And even though some shinies joke about their shiny, very visible general, Kenobi won’t even put on a matte base coat, just thanks the men politely and keeps on shining. It has to be intentional.

- When Obi-Wan eventually repaints his armour, it’s in gold for the 212th and black for justice for the vode.

In the days between accepting his marching orders and shipping out to meet his battalion, Obi-Wan researches, plans, and packs. He sleeps fitfully and dreams of Melida-Daan, of Bandomeer, of Mandalore. He tears through the archives and with echoes of the Young in his ears, downloads anything that might help keep his men alive. With a growing cold like deep sea mines, he reads the clones spec sheets, reviews galactic law, and speed reads his way through the last few years of the senate’s bills.

He pulls out of his closet possessions unbecoming of Jedi—things he has kept because he has been unable to let go of the fear of . There’s his old XX sniper rifle from Melida-Daan. A blaster from here. A vibroblade from there.

And there’s the armour he got from Mandalore. It’s painted in green for duty and erin for peace, the order’s sigil on the pauldron. He can hardly stand to look at it. Standing here, at the eve of marching to war that is to be fought with slave soldiers, he has no right to wear any of it. Not the green of duty, for he has forsaken his duty to protect all sentient life in accepting command of an army of slaves. Not the erin of peace, for he is marching off to fight a war to force worlds to stay in a republic they don’t wish to be a part of. Not the sigil of the Jedi order, for he has already forsaken his vows in these actions—and has already decided to forsake his duty to the republic.

Obi-Wan strips the beskar bare. Before refitting the armour, going through the straps, buckles, replacing worn parts and reconditioning the rest. He spends sleepless nights in the salles relearning to fight in armour.

“Paint? I painted it when I was seventeen. I, ah, stripped it when I accepted the draft.” Kenobi grimaces, but sets his jaw and continues. “I couldn’t keep the paint I had after that.” There’s an odd, bitter clang to his words.

[elizabethwydevilles]

I think that 'you're like a father too me' vs 'you were my brother' is crucial in understanding the Anakin and Obi-Wan dynamic and their particular brand of dysfunctional communication.

[aravenlovesfanfiction]

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[elrhiarhodan]

Excerpt from Chapter 28 - It’s The Light That Makes You Remember:

As Obi-Wan approaches the apartment, he picks up excitement and delight from his master, who shouldn’t even be in their suite this time of day.  He reaches out, carefully shielded, and senses a surprisingly familiar presence.

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and keys in his door code.  Inside, he finds his master and his padawan-brother sharing a pot of tea.

"Obi-Wan, look who has come to visit!"  His master is practically glowing with happiness.

"I can see."  Obi-Wan smiles and offers a tiny bow, "Hello, Anakin.  This is a wonderful surprise.  Did we know you were coming to Coruscant?  You didn’t mention when we talked last week."  Either he or Qui-Gon talks with the Skywalker-Naberrie family at least twice a month, so much for letting non-Jedi family connections fade…

Qui-Gon just says, "I thought it would be a nice surprise, so I told him to keep it a secret."

And Anakin, his not-once-padawan, laughs delightedly.  "Oh, Obi-Wan, you sound like you’ve spent far too much time as a Council Padawan, you poor thing."  He unfolds himself from the kitchen chair and strides over to give Obi-Wan a hug.  "You look amazing, brother-mine."

Obi-Wan can’t help but hug Anakin back, tightly.

"Ooof."  When Anakin lets go, they stare at each other, like old friends reunited, although they’d only met once face-to-face. In this timeline. "And so do you."

There’s a gentle glow about Anakin’s face — not just the warmth of good health and living in a temperate climate, but that of living a peaceful, happy, and fulfilling life that can never be transmitted through a holo-projector.  Obi-Wan looks into those bright blue eyes and nearly bursts into tears.

He gathers the threads of his emotional control and asks, "What brings you here?"

"To the Temple?"

"No, idiot, to Coruscant?"

Anakin looks over his shoulder at their Master and asks, "Does he talk to you like this?"

"Oh, certainly not, Obi-Wan is the most earnest and respectful padawan a Jedi master could want."  Qui-Gon snickers.  "Unlike some others in this room."

"Yourself included?"

"Hmm, I’m not answering that question.  But next time you see your Great-grandmaster, you might ask him."

Anakin makes a face.

"Speaking of questions, you haven’t answered mine."  Obi-Wan pokes at Anakin, stunning in his sky-blue trousers and over-tunic, such a novel look on him.  "Not that it isn’t a delight to see you, but …"

"I’m here with Padmé, or rather, Queen Amidala.  She is in her last six months of her term as Queen and she is here to give testimony against the Trade Federation.  The trial begins in the Senate.  Finally."

Obi-Wan frowns.  "It’s only been, what, five years?"

"Four years, ten months, eighteen days on the official Naboo calendar, since the Trade Federation invaded."

"That’s very precise, Anakin," Qui-Gon says approvingly.

"Well, Padmé and I have been married four years, seven months and three days."  Anakin looks at his chrono.  "And nine hours."

"I guess you’re no longer in love, since you haven’t calculated the hours, minutes and seconds," Obi-Wan teases.

Anakin wads up his napkin and throws it at him.

"Children, please.  If you’re going to fight, take it down to the salles."   Qui-Gon gets up.  "You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve got a Council meeting I can’t get out of."

Anakin shakes his head.  "I can’t believe you let them give you a seat on the High Council, Master."

Qui-Gon laughs.  "Someone has to keep them on their toes.  Obi-Wan, would you rather mind the desk and take notes, or spend time with your brother?"

Obi-Wan’s gaze flicks over to Anakin, who nods eagerly.  "Oh, if you think they can do without me for the day?"

"I think we’ll manage."  Qui-Gon tugs his braid.  "Enjoy yourselves and try not to get into too much trouble."  Then his master shakes his head.  "Yeah, as if that’s even possible.  Obi-Wan, keep an eye on your brother, please.  He’s not a knight anymore, who knows what mischief he’ll get up to."

Qui-Gon exits to the sound of ringing laughter.

Anakin leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and Obi-Wan’s heart swells with joy.  This is how it should always have been.

[jedi-enthusiasm-blog]

The Many Names of Peace (pt.3/?): Communication

CONTENT WARNINGS:

Child murder (discussed).

Rape/Sexual assault (discussed)

Slavery and sistemic oppresion (discussed)

Human/Sapient rights violations (discussed)

Ruusan Reformation (derogatory) (discussed in detail)

The mission was nothing complicated, just a standard corporate dispute. However, the intel didn't say a word about the pirate blockade on the orbit of Quarzite, not a single sound about how both corporations were using slave labor, or about the genocide going on on the planet.

Because the mission wasn't about those things. It doesn't matter that both corporations were using child slaves right in front of their noses, or that the planet belongs to the people the belugans are subjugating, oppressing, killing and enslaving.

The ade, Terith observes with concern, are terrified of them and the Jet'verde. One of them, a girl of near-human species, is clinging ont the Jet'ad for dear life and watching the adults surrounding them with mistrust. Terith's heart breaks a little.

"Agisti, Kenobi" the kage Jedi greets the Padawan-brother of her Shadow-brother. "It seems you found trouble again."

Kenobi sighs, looking a strange mixture of proud and exasperated. "It was all my Padawan this time, Jexha…"

Zahara smiles, a little amused. "Valehnan Jexha Zahara."

The Jetii approaches the scared ade, and kneels in front of them in order to put herself on the same level. She whispers something in a language Terith doesn't understand, but some of the ade seem to. The little girl clinging to the Jetii'ad relaxes once she hears the language, and calmly lets go of the boy's arm. Then, she turns to the other kids.

"She's a Warrior, she's Kin" the little girl says, switching into Basic, "and a Jidai. She doesn't mean us any harm."

The Jetii'ad looks surprised and confused, and a few other emotions that cross his face too quickly to be identified. However, the children immediately relax at hearing the girl's words. Apparently, whatever Heliost said was enough to make herself trustworthy.

Zahara smiles softly. "Don't worry. None of the people here will hurt you" she promises, and the look she gives Terith makes the clear threat of or else. "Do you have homes to return to? Kin?"

The children and Zahara switch to Kage again, and she manages to gather information about some of the children. She turns to the others.

"Most of these younglings are kages from Quarzite" she says in Basic, to make sure nearly everyone understands what she's saying. They'll be discussing these younglings' future, the least they can do is make sure the younglings understand them. "They are all from different Caves —homes, families—, and… some of them don't exist anymore. We have to make sure they all have places to stay in."

Then, she swallowed. "Others were stolen from families and homes in the Outer Rim, or bought from the Hutts. The others were taken too young to remember where they come from."

Anakin flinches slightly. He hopes nobody notices, but they all seem to be busy discussing what to do with the child- younglings.

They finish returning the kage ade to their homes and aliit a full standard day later. Now, the only thing left to do is return the remaining ade to their people or, in case they can't, find them a new home.

There is a tense silence in the subtram back to their ship. The recently freed younglings are wary of the three Jedi and the Mandalorian, even after Anakin freed them, and Zahara and Obi-Wan are obviously uncomfortable with a Mandalorian so close. Jedi and Mandalorian animosity runs deep.

The little kage girl that spoke to Zahara is roughly four standard, but turns five —according to her— in a few months. She's Force-sensitive, judging by her question of why Terith doesn't have "colors".

Zahara swallows a relieved sigh, but her shoulders still relax. Anakin hates it, how nobody cares about slaves unless they are Force-sensitive, how the Jedi do nothing about the planets in the Outer Rim or even the Couruscant underwold. So much for compassion.

There is tense silence as Obi-Wan, Boma and the Mandalorian sit around the table on Terith's ship, drinking slowly from their cups of tea. Hadia, the kage girl, has already drunk her whole cup, while Anakin's sits on the table untouched.

Is this what everyone does? Drinking tea instead of freeing slaves?

"How did you end up working with a Mandalorian, anyway? I thought, well, after…" Obi-Wan says, attempting diplomacy to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Not every Mando'ad is the same, even within the same faction" offers Terith. "Two verde, five opinions, as they say."

"It was you two, especifically" Zahara explains. "Terith despised the idea of a missing youngling, and I needed help to find you."

"Children are the future" adds Terith, sounding like they are quoting a sacred tenet of a creed they are part of. "If it helps… my clan will take care of any child we cannot bring back to their families."

Zahara clenches her jaw. "How wonderful for those you see as children."

The kage Jedi says it in a low mutter, but not low enough to avoid being heard by the Mandalorian.

"Look, you don't owe me the story of your pain" Terith tells her, having a silent conversation Anakin isn't privy to. "But Jaster's faction, the Haat'Mando'ade? We don't kill children. Nu draar, not ever. We are not Kyr'tsad."

Zahara sighs, but doesn't reply immediately. Instead, she turns to the younglings. "Anakin, Hadia, I'm about to explain something gross and disturbing to Terith, okay? I think you should leave. It's not a burden I want to put on you"

Hadia nods, and Anakin has to swallow the sharp retort that wants to come out of his lips. "Alright."

Hadia, still holding Anakin's hand, drags him out of the dinning room.

Whatever Knight Zahara said to the Mandalorian —Terith, they'd introduced themselves— was enough to make them feel disturbed. Anakin can feel their horror, even with their Force-presence muted through the armor.

"Mister Terith, are you okay?" Hadia asks.

The Mandalorian takes off their helmet and smiles, ruffling Halia's white hair gently. "I'm okay, just… learned something a bit upsetting. I'll deal with it."

Zahara and Obi-Wan come next. Obi-Wan squeezes Zahara's arm, and she smiles and squeezes his. They let each other go, and walk up to Anakin.

"Anakin" Obi-Wan begins, and swallows. "Can we speak alone for a moment?"

Anakin hesitates, not sure if he wants to deal with a lecture after the day he's had, but… Obi-Wan seems tired and worried, about him, and his chest tightens.

He hadn't wanted to worry Obi-Wan. He swallows the lump in his throat. "Yes, Master."

Zahara raises a brow at the form of adress, but doesn't say anything. Together, she and Obi-Wan lead Anakin into the dinning room of Terith's ship.

Anakin and Zahara sit down, as Obi-Wan pours his fellow Knight and himself a cup of tea. Anakin doesn't understand the Jedi's obsession with tea.

Zahara takes her cup to her lips immediately, while Obi-Wan leaves his on the table, waiting for his tea to cool down a little before drinking it.

There's a moment of uncomfortable silence, with none of the Knights knowing what to say and Anakin expecting the scolding to begin any time soon. Finally, Obi-Wan starts.

"What you did was very brave, Anakin" His Padawan flusters at the praise. "You did what was right even when it was hard, and I'm very proud of you."

Anakin's cheeks turn hot and red. He… hadn't been expecting the praise.

"But it was also reckless" Obi-Wan goes on. "There are many things that could have gone wrong, things you didn't consider."

Anakin feels anger rising. "I was trying to free the slaves!"

Knight Zahara sighs, suddenly looking exhausted. "Do or do not, Skywalker. There is no try." She leaves her cup of tea on the table.

"You're very lucky Hadia is Force-sensitive and under the age limit" Obi-Wan explains to his Padawan, with slowly dying calm. "You could get into great trouble if we don't thread carefully."

Anakin's anger explodes, and with it so does Zahara's cup of tea. The Valehnan barely shields herself and Obi-Wan in time to stop the hot water from burning them. "I was freeing slaves! I shouldn't need a justification for that! I don't need to tell the Council what I'm doing every second of my time so they can argue about everything and waste my time!"

Zahara picks up the broken teacup, using the Force to avoid cutting herself, and throws it into the trashcan. She's projecting calm into her expression, but the kage doesn't manage to hide her frustration in the Force.

"There is no could, there is no should, only what you must do." The kage Jedi says, words of wisdom beyond Anakin's reach flowing through the air and the Force. "You're right, you shouldn't need permission to do the right thing and free slaves. But we don't live in an ideal galaxy, and right now you do need authorization to fight slavery."

"Jedi must follow our mandates, Anakin" Obi-Wan tells him honestly. "We can't act however we wish, even if it's right."

"You sound like we are slaves at the orders of the Council! Jedi are free, we should-!"

Zahara grabs another cup and pours herself some tea. While she does that, she cuts Anakin off. "We are not, Skywalker."

Anakin's anger quickly turns to confusion. "What do you mean…?"

Obi-Wan sighs tiredly. "What do you know about the Ruusan Reformation, Anakin?"

Anakin blinks at the sudden change in subject.

"It's a peace treaty signed after the last Jedi-Sith Wars."

"In theory" Zahara allows. "In practice, it's… something else."

The kage Jedi and Obi-Wan exchange a glance. Then, all emotion disappears from their faces, but their Force signatures grow… louder.

"At the end of the New Sith Wars, a thousand years ago, the public view of the Jedi had shifted." Obi-Wan explains slowly, carefully. "Most of the galaxy doesn't understand the difference between a Jedi and a Sith, and coming from a centuries long war that caused a technological regression we are still recovering from…"

Anakin finishes his Master's sentence, sounding hesitant and almost hoping he's wrong. "People blamed the Jedi?"

Zahara sighs. "Yes. We were blamed for things we didn't do and for things we couldn't do even if we tried. That's why the Ruusan Reformation was written in the first place: to limit the power that Jedi could wield" The kage Jedi swallows the lump in her throat. "First thing they did was take away our power to participate in the political process, which means we cannot be representatives for any planet or system in any government, have representation in said governments, nor are we allowed to vote."

Anakin's face turns a shade paler. "But… isn't voting a right for all citizens of the Republic?"

"Yes" Zahara replies, and doesn't elaborate, lets Anakin reach his own conclusions. The Padawan doesn't like the conclusions he's reaching to.

"Next was… the demilitarization of the Order, right? I remember Quinlan talking about it" Obi-Wan adds.

Knight Zahara nods. "They took our armor, back-up and defenses, basically everything but our Lightsabers" She takes a sip of her tea. "This means that zabraks and kages, for example, cannot own their cultures' traditional weapons."

Anakin remembers an old male zabrak slave, who had always lamented the loss of his staff, and feels sick to his stomach.

"It gets worse" Zahara warns him.

"How…" Anakin swallows. "How does it get worse?"

"Jedi must follow their mandate, in theory to prevent abuse of power" Obi-Wan explains.

"In practice, it means the Senate can… request favors from us, and we are not allowed to refuse" Zahara tells him. Anakin's anger resurfaces.

"You mean they can use us as Blood Slaves, Pleasure Slaves and… they don't suffer consequences" Anakin says between gritted teeth.

Zahara, notably, doesn't deny it. "They also added other impositions, such as not allowing members of the Corps to carry Kaitahj or nevi padib being sent to the Corps if a jaieh hasn't chosen them once they turn their species equivalent of thirteen."

"Our ability to free slaves is one of those things they restricted" Obi-Wan adds mildly, but Anakin can feel the frustration underneath the calm surface prickling on his skin. "A Jedi cannot free slaves without prior Senate authorization… unless there is an enslaved Force-sensitive youngling, and the Jedi in question is a Finder."

"The youngling must also be taken into the Order" Zahara adds.

Anakin feels the weight of guilt and anger sink its claws into his stomach.

Jedi aren't free, he isn't free, and now he's condemned Hadia to the same fate.

"I wonder what it says about the galaxy that the Order is still the safest place for a Force-sensitive youngling to grow up in" Zahara mutters.

"Jedi can leave the Order and get the full rights of a citizen of the Republic" Obi-Wan adds softly.

Anakin feels anger curl up in his stomach, the familiar frustration that comes with powerlessness. That's not a choice, that's only cruel. Nobody should choose their culture, their traditions, their identity, or their freedom.

It's like the ghost of a choice he and his mother had in working in Watto's shop, the same choice Dancing Girls have in their outfits. Just an ilusion.

He remembers his mother's words, Elder Tena's soft explanation, what they had never managed to teach him because he didn't want to understand, because he'd been afraid of understanding.

There are a hundred ways to be a slave. Gold and jewels can still be chains.

Anakin's heart hurts. He wants… he wants to do something.

"Is there anything we can do?" Anakin asks, voice soft and timid.

Zahara nods and gives him a quick smile. "Yes, I have a plan" She drinks her tea, and adds: "I'm registered as a Finder, and Hadia is four standard, which is within the age range imposed by the Senate. We can simply say that I was on planet and Hadia was enslaved there, so after she was freed I took her to the Order."

"It's the truth." Obi-Wan replies, face in a cold mask but with amusement and defiance coloring his Force signature.

"From a certain point of view" Anakin is certain that Zahara takes her teacup to her mouth to hide her smirk.

Anakin is familiar with these games, these half-truths and careful lies told in order to hide dissent, the keeping of secrets done to get whatever smidge of freedom one could get. He knows the Tongue of Slaves intimately, even if he's never been good at it. Perhaps it's time to start learning another language.

His life dream of freeing all the slaves hasn't changed. It only has one more step. He and the Jedi will break their chains, and together they will free the slaves from the Outer Rim.

No chain or cage can hold a Sky Walker forever.

Dai Bendu

Agisti — hello, hi, a greeting between equals

Jexha — Jedi Knight, title.

Valehnan — Jedi Shadow. Lit "Master of physical darkness" Zahara is introducing herself as a Shadow who has completed her training.

Xari — Darkness, Dark Side of the Force. Although in this context Zahara doesn't mean it literally.

Imkai'ans — murderers without sense or cause, people who kill without good reason, for its own sake. The worst thing you can call someone in Dai Bendu (it's very accurate for Death Watch and the Finder-slayer though)

Enishee — crechemate

Kaitahj — Lightsaber(s)

Nevi padib — the Initiates

Mando'a

Ad(e) — child(ren)

Jet'verd(e) — Jedi Knight(s)

Jetii'ad — Jedi child, Padawan or Initiate

Buy'ce — helmet

Mando'ad(e) — Mandalorian(s)

Jetii — Jedi (singular)

Aliit — family, clan

Verd — warrior

Haat'Mando'ade — True Mandalorians, followers of the Super Commando Codex and the Rewritten Canons who recognized Jaster Mereel and later Jango Fett as the rightful rulers of Mandalore

Kyr'stad — Death Watch. Lit "dead society"

Nu draar — a very strong no, not on your life, absolutely not, not ever, rather cut my eye out with a fork than do that. Lit "not never", since Mando'a uses double negative for emphasis

Jetiise — Jedi (plural)

Mandokar — epitome of Mandalorian virtue: courage, tenacity, loyalty and lust for life. Although in this case they're praising Zahara's guts

Shig — spicy Mandalorian drink similar to tea

Demagolka — someone who commits atrocities, war criminal, someone who hurts children, a real life monster. From the scientist from the time of the Old Republic, Demagol, known for his experiments on children, a figure of hate and dread in Mandalorian culture

Mand'alor — leader of the Mandalorians

Kage Language

Jidai — Jedi

"The mission wasn't about those things". Jedi cannot act without explicit Senate authorization, in theory to prevent abuse of power. In practice to keep them on a leash.

The belugan corporations were using enslaved kages as employees because that way they don't have to pay salaries. Anakin Anakined the whole thing and decided to free the slaves. He freed most of them, mainly the children, but others were killed.

Zahara doesn't have a last name because Kage Warriors don't do surnames the same way we do. They mean something, such as a vocation or an experience you went through, and Zahara hasn't decided upon one yet.

Baby Anakin is suffering from severe imposter syndrome and is trying to make himself fit into the Order. He's hiding his Tatooine accent, he doesn't tell anybody about the culture he was born in and tries to immitate the Jedi he meets. What he hasn't realized yet (partially because of internalized biases, partially because of Palpatine) is that the Jedi want him to keep his culture and traditions, that many Jedi have accents from nearly every planet and that they don't know he was a slave.

The atmosphere of Quarzite's surface is Type IV, which is incompatible with any form of life (save for perhaps some kinds of bacteria). However, its caves are deep and, just like some caves in real life, have their own atmosphere, where sapient life is possible. Most ships are not equipped to the pressure, winds or storms of the Quarzite atmosphere, so people have to take subtrams to travel from one breathable space to another.

Jedi are a culture that drinks tea often, since many of them tend to find the flavors and/or textures soothing. Anakin doesn't know this, but Zahara and Obi-Wan made different teas with different flavors for everybody, because they have different tastes. Terith, on the other hand, is drinking shig (a spicy Mandalorian drink).

Anakin is still a baby and doesn't understand that freeing slaves is not something that can be done just like that. It requires careful planning, money, manpower and resources that the Jedi don't have. The restrictions of the Ruusan Reformation don't help, either.

If you've realized, Terith uses a lot of Mando'a words, even when they know Zahara doesn't speak Mando'a and neither does (as far as they're aware of) Obi-Wan. However, Zahara and Obi-Wan do not speak Dai Bendu in their presence save for a couple words, and they are speaking to each other, not to Terith. This is because Terith, like most Mandalorians, is not used to people not speaking the same language, Basic is their second language, and they're not fully fluent yet. However, Zahara and Obi-Wan are well trained diplomats who have dealt with people who didn't speak Basic, people who didn't want to speak Basic, people who couldn't speak Basic and are used to switching languages when necessary.

Terith doesn't know what enishee means. However, they can guess that it's either sibling, friend or the name of weird Jedi relationships like Padawan. But they can understand thanks to context. Basic sucks.

Jaster is still alive because I said so. He's a massive nerd too because I love that characterization for him.

My intention with this fic is, aside from spiting the Jedi-hate and Mando-worship of the fandom, adressing the horrible history Mandalorians have with Jedi. Despite this, I'm intending to be kind to most Mandalorians that show up on screen. Terith is a decent person that's horrified by everything they're learning (spoiler alert: it's bad) and I intend to give the same kindness to many other Mandalorian characters because, in the end, I believe most people are good (or at least not evil) and many Mandalorians would want to fix things and make amends however possible (giving braids and Lightsabers back, giving those who murdered children to justice, etc).

"A bit upsetting" AKA it's really bad and I'm barely holding on, but I don't want to worry you.

Most Jedi only call their Masters that word in Basic when there are people they don't want to find out about Dai Bendu (politicians, mainly) or when they're upset. Hence Zahara's reaction.

In case anyone's curious, Quarzite is an Inner Rim planet and as such is connected to Couruscant by a public transport network, despite its proximity to Mandalorian space (in this fic, I did artistic lisense on the GFFA map). Zahara didn't want to draw attention to herself while searching for Anakin, and it's standard procedure for Shadows to hide their Jedi status whenever a Jedi goes missing, because it's assumed there was a Jedi hunter involved until proven otherwise. However, now that she's found Anakin, Obi-Wan and the half a dozen or so slave children that tagged along, she's not willing to go by public transport and draw attention to the children they're smuggling out of the planet.

"There is no could, there is no should, only what you must do." A kage saying. What's done is done, it is what it is, and you must do your duty regardless. In this context, she's telling Anakin that it's useless to dwell on what should be happening, because it's, by definition, not happening. There are things that should be but aren't, and Jedi must act according to the present, not the past, possible future or alternate reality.

"Blood Slaves" Slaves whose masters use them as assassins, the very common fate of Force-sensitive slaves.

Elders are, in my version of Tatooine slave culture, slaves who have survived hardships and passed trials, for a lack of better word, and are revered by other slaves for their wisdom. Their role is similar to that of a Jedi Master (because the role of wise mentor is present in many cultures, and not all slaves have parents or guardians), but not quite the same. Anakin will, like many other Jedi, learn to balance his birth culture with the life of a Jedi.

"There are a hundred ways to be a slave." Saying in Hutt Space, where slaves make up over half the population. Not all slavery looks the same, some kinds are worse than others, but all in all it's the same shitty situation. The second part of the idiom, "gold and jewels can still be chains", means that even the people that look the most privileged can still be enslaved to something. Jedi live in a pretty Temple, but that doesn't mean they are free or the elite. In fact, as Anakin realizes, they are the complete opposite.

"Tongue of Slaves" AKA lying, misleading, deceiving, flattering and keeping secrets from slaveowners.

"Sky Walkers" is what the slaves from Hutt Space call themselves. It's a reference to a long extinct red bird species native to Tatooine, wiped out when the Hutts took over. The saying "no chain or cage can hold a Sky Walker forever" is born out of a sentiment of hope and defiance, a way of telling themselves they will be free one day, even if what gives them freedom is death. It's used as a last name for slaves who don't have one.

I'm not very satisfied with this one, so if it suffers any surprise editions you know why.

[marvelstars]

"I think," Obi-Wan said carefully, "that abstractions like peace don't mean much to him. He's loyal to people, not to principles. And he expects loyalty in return" Obi-Wan on Anakin Skywalker

Tbh while I really love a lot of passages from Stover ROTS novel this one in which Obi-Wan says that "Anakin doesn´t understand abstractions concepts like peace" is so wrong.

Anakin as a 9 year old child wanted to give "Freedom for all the slaves" if he didn´t understand freedom as an abstract concept he would have been ok with just him and his mother being free but no, he wanted to end slavery on Tatooine, even the outer rim, he just lacked the power to do it.

In the war he wasn´t fighting just to protect Padmé or Obi-Wan or Ahsoka or Rex or the Jedi Order or Palpatine, he was fighting for peace in the republic, the one thing he asked Palpatine after turning to the darkside was Will we have peace? to which Palpatine answered Yes.

As Vader he told Luke he wanted him to help him install "Order in the Galaxy" and "End this destructive conflict" which actually implies he obviously noticed the Empire had become a big part of the problem and the rebel alliance had reason for their fight, just like the republic and separatist were in his youth.

So my guess is that what Obi-Wan didn´t understand about Anakin was that Anakin was forced by the Jedi Order to compromise his real values as a member of the Order, he compromised his wish for justice and freedom for the slaves and his mother in order to learn to be a jedi, he compromised his love for Padmé and wish for a family in order to help the order fight in the clone wars, he compromised his wish for a free Tatooine in order to help Jabba´s Son, so he compromised a lot until he compromised his soul to learn how to save Padmé just like the Order keep compromising itself during the war by becoming the owners of the clone army and that was something that Anakin keep doing even as Vader.

In fact Lucas said about Windu and Palpatine duel in ROTS "Anakin´s thoughts when Windu tried to murder Palpatine was that everybody was corrupt in the end" he would not have cared much about corruption if he only was lead by his personal relationships.

I also think that despite Obi-Wan´s care for Anakin his identity of being a Jedi was always more important for him which is fine because they were his family but in the same way Anakin also had the right to defend and protect his family and not being forced to choose between them and the "good of the galaxy" or his "chosen one prohecy" the moment he no longer did this, the moment he defended his family and was congruent with his ideals, was the moment he was able to come back from the darkside and that´s not coincidence, that´s the conflict Luke talked about in ROTJ, a conflict that started the moment Anakin was forced to compromise his ideals and the safety and life or his loved ones in favor of supporting the Jedi Order.

Obi-Wan keep his alliance to the Jedi Order without compromising it for Anakin´s sake, he did his best to murder Anakin once he turned to the darkside, the only reason Anakin didn´t die was because of Palpatine and after discovering he was actually alive, he tried to make Anakin´s Son murder him so while I believe Obi-Wan cared for Anakin at some point, his turn to the darkside and his actions in Oder 66 made Obi-Wan lie to himself, telling himself Anakin was dead to be able to kill him, which made his actions to dehumanize and try to kill Anakin easier and justifiy to himself using Anakin´s own family to kill him.

This is my personal problem with Obi-Wan, he never gets in conflict like Anakin did because he believes he is always in the right, no matter who gets hurt in the middle and while that doesn´t make him a monster it did lead him to actions that can´t objetively be considered good even if they were done for a good end. he has that "Ends justifies the means mentality" the Order adopted in the late stage of the clone wars so it´s pretty ironic he believes it´s Anakin the one who has a problem with his values.

[g00seg1raffe]

Obi-Wan Kenobi's net worth at the height of the clone wars - 52,365,000 credits. yeah... that's a lot.

general. my good sir. obi wan. why do you smoulder so hard these are mug shots

can you control yourself for like 20 seconds this is serious you are a war criminal

[strawberriesinmoominvalley]

At nineteen, Padmé Naberrie has her life under control. As padawan to Qui-Gon Jinn, she gets to travel the galaxy helping people. As lineage sister to Obi-Wan Kenobi, she has an inbuilt best friend and someone to help stop Qui-Gon causing mass disturbance. When the three of them depart on a mission to Kamino, she doesn't expect anything out of the ordinary.

Then, of course, her world collapses with the discovery of the clone army. As the galaxy dissolves into war, she finds an unlikely ally in Anakin Skywalker, a revolutionary from Tatooine who helped to lead his planet to freedom from the Hutts. Now trying to help a clone revolution and fight a war, Padmé makes up her mind to find the Sith who started all this.

Inevitably, this will either destroy the Republic or destroy her. She hasn't quite worked that out yet.

chapter four: It was irrevocable: some part of Padmé had died on Naboo and she would never be able to heal that gaping hole inside of her.