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yourneighborhoodporg · 7 months ago

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The Guardian

Chapter 11: Alone (Part 1)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: Angst, description of night terror, descriptions of person and animal injury :/, violence, fluff, canon character death, and description of near-death experience.

Summary: Soon after losing yourself within your own mind, you are deployed to the distant planet Lanos to aid Obi-Wan Kenobi in his secondary mission of delivering supplies to a Republic supply port amidst his coordination of the primary fleet rendevous. But as you begin to dip your toes into the responsibilities that accompany becoming a General in The Clone Wars, you are quick to discover that lightyears of travel will do nothing to shield you from the consequences of being The Guardian.

Song Inspo: Widow's Peak — Neil Finn

Words: 8.2K

A/n: I'M ALIVEEEE. Haha, sorry for the long hiatus, but I'm back with Chapter 1 of Part II (of many). We begin with events running tangentially to Rising Malevolence. Also, I have to thank each and every one of you for your continued support. I can't put into words how much it means to me to receive your Kudoses and read your comments. It's what has really driven me to make this story as entertaining for y'all as possible. So thank you ❤️ So excited to be back! Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this one in the comments below :)

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Series Masterlist

Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead — Benjamin Franklin

Squinting against the icy gale as loose flakes snagged your eyelashes, you steadied into a stiff crouch atop the snowy plain. One that stretched out for endless miles across the hostile planet’s pallid surface, but still allowed for enough idle traction with the dig of your determined heels into its niveous layers.

It wasn’t the easiest feat, considering your small body of just five years felt like loose parchment against the billowing gusts that howled past your ears and ruffled the furs of your Wampan cloak. But, no matter, you still did well for your age, relying on the Force’s converging stability to focus your body and mind on the far more interesting sight that lay ahead.

Sharp claws scurrying and scraping into the chipping frost below, the long, floppy-eared Ice Scrabbler continued its desperate search for the day’s meal. Your eyes graced its soft, brown coat, taking note of the progressive ruggedness that characterized the ends of its tail, and tight curls which twisted its cheeks into a perpetual frown.

What tugged at the muscles cornering your lips, however, was neither of those benign features. It was, instead, that pointed beak— a quite bulbous thing that greatly contrasted against the equally confused set of tiny button eyes dotting either oblivious side of the animal’s head as it remained affixed toward the ground.

You giggled.

Floppy ears spun like propellers, slapping against the small creature’s pointed mouth while those same, searching eyes locked cautiously onto your figure.

Sucking in the winter’s teeth-rotting chill, you held your breath, hoping not to upset the being any more than you obviously already had. Instead, you took comfort, simply by watching the miniature thing while your shoulders relaxed into the imperceptible numbing sensation the weather cast onto your grinning lips.

But the Galaxy had other plans, as the Scrabbler seemed to derive permission from your stilled expression to commence a slow approach. In which, placing one carefully lowered paw in front of the other, it rigidly prowled toward your figure crouched only a few feet away.

Still, you watched on quite happily, permitting the critter to carry out its nature during one of those rare trips you and your friend took across the planet’s surface.

Until the Scrabbler’s suddenly coiled spine launched like a flash of light toward your arm, levying a hefty scratch with sharp claws that plunged your knees into the sleet.

You cried out, thrusting a reactive fist toward the defensive, four-legged animal as the Force carried out your whim, sending its surprised limbs tumbling into the unfeeling embrace of a nearby, blackened rock that jutted ruggedly from the ice.

“Are you alright?” Qui-Gon asked calmly while swiftly approaching your squatting figure, having left behind his light scavenging efforts some meters away in favor of the sudden commotion.

You wiped a loose, crystal tear from your cheek as the wise-eyed man kneeled before you, gently grasping your small arm to assess the damage prior to loosening a travel pack off his back and down his shoulder so to leisurely rummage through its varied contents.

“That dumb thing attacked me!” You spit, eyes narrowed on the Scrabbler’s semi-distant form that softly limped beyond its disturbed landing spot, silent whimpers trailing paw prints which denting the snow.

That’s when the old Jedi’s gaze locked with yours. And without sharing a hint of anything but lifted features of neutrality and acceptance, your Master blindly grasped onto whatever he was looking for from his pack.

Soon, he revealed the mystery by raising a white bandage roll from its rear compartment before, once more, motioning for your arm, all of which began the gradual process of wrapping its red-streaked, mangled body that stung from the dissolving mess of descending flakes.

“Do you think they were unwise in attacking you?” The man questioned, circling the itchy white ribbon firmly around the inking, crimson wound.

You stared at him straight. “Yeah!”

“Even if they saw you as a threat?”

“But I wasn’t doing anything!” You complained, scrunching your nose in annoyance. “I was just… watching it.”

After tightly sealing your arm from any risk of leakage, the Master Jedi tied off the bandage. Embracing the seconds following that last, knotted loop to face you with his whole self, completely, before he settled to speak.

“Sometimes, we can do nothing at all, and everything right, yet still face the consequences.”

He rose to his feet, offering you a warm hand to firmly grab as you lugged yourself upwards, catching your sprightly feet to stand beside his articulate incarnation.

“But it is our responsibility as Jedi to face such circumstances without fear.”

Your eyes raised toward the warm, hue-scattered horizon, scanning the icy expanse for the animal before that same, conflicted stare grounded on a small brown ball of fur, quivering a few meters beyond the rock like a fleck upon a pearly white blanket.

“I wasn’t scared,” you defended meekly, a subtle pull tugging at your chest. “I was just… upset.”

But no matter how much you tried to hide it, Qui-Gon seemed to take clear notice of your gaze as his own subtly curious expression traced it to the nearby cramped creature struggling through a noticeable limp.

“It is fear that leads us to become upset. Fear that guides us to take it out on others.”

With deliberate leisure, the Master Jedi approached the trembling, small Scrabbler, leading you to follow in step as you steadily trailed along through suffocating snow banks. Their spilling bodies gliding like hands with tightening fingers as if ready to clasp your ankles before yanking you down into their underground world.

He hummed lowly, taking careful measure not to panic the tiny animal with intimidating noises. “But we must act compassionately to all. Even those who frighten us.”

Before long, the two of you reached the whining Scrabbler. And, with each successive movement that Qui-Gon made, from kneeling down to even extending a sedated, innocuous arm toward its wet snout, the being could only shrink in place at what they perceived as coming doom. With its left, front leg dreadfully abraded and slowly bleeding into reddening fur at the bend, that was all it could feasibly do.

Until the back of Qui-Gon’s hand graced those drooping ears, the gentle, kneading strokes progressively plucking out the Scrabbler’s surreptitiously affectionate nature. Most evident when the smoothly tranquilizing critter leaned into the Master Jedi’s palm with pleasurably squinting eyes, as if his rough skin held the only warmth found for miles.

Which was probably true.

Still, as was his timeless essence, Qui-Gon sourced the infinite prowess to calm the creature a significant degree. Enough, apparently, for your dear friend to feel comfortable gradually transferring that same roll of bandaging tape into your pocket-size palms. Tiny fingers which impulsively clutched onto the ruggedly thin material as your confounded gaze communicated every baffling, skeptical thought that flitted through your mind.

But all that only compelled the Master Jedi to respond with was a subtle, lighthearted beckon of the brows toward the faintly preoccupied, wild animal.

So, with equal prudence, and a healthy bout of watchful nerves, you gently wrapped your tiny fingers around the creature's leg.

Yet as those chilled digits graced bloodied fur bordering the Scrabbler’s wound, you were quick to earn a flick of its bulbous skull toward your now stiffened form, followed by a quiet, meaningful growl that seemed to sting your freshly wrapped wound the most.

This time, however, you didn’t react so rashly.

With Qui-Gon’s silent encouragement acting in tandem with his subsisted, distracting ear scratches, you carefully began wrapping the abrasion.

“To be their friend?” You questioned, eyes locked into the twirling, pearly fabric.

Qui-Gon lifted his hand from the Scrabbler while he considered your words, allowing the latter to curiously observe your actions with a regularly tilting head and clicking beak as the Jedi Master’s eyes graced the blue sky’s boundless existence.

“A Jedi is a friend to all who are imbued with the living Force.”

Your brows furrowed at the old man whose gaze had traveled elsewhere, though your hands remained steady. “But that’s… everything.”

His serene stare skipped back toward your patient expression.

“You are correct,” he smiled softly.

With a securing knot at the upper leg, you finished bandaging the creature, leaving enough room for them to bend their knee during the next few weeks of healing until the fabric dissolved.

The Scrabbler, too, seemed to approve of your quick handiwork, as they swiftly leaned over to swipe their beak past your cheek, offering a sloppy, wet lick of appreciation. All the while their sandpaper-like tongue roped a feeble giggle to fall past your lips.

And it was enough, too, to reel you back into the reality of your actions, like an air bubble shooting to the surface of any deep ocean.

“I feel bad,” you faintly admitted, averting your gaze from the only honorable man you’d ever known.

Instead, you focused your guilt by repaying the presently comfortable creature with a few scratches on their unfairly soft, browned back.

“There is no need,” he declared nonchalantly. “You have made your amends and were forgiven.”

A gentle, thrumming purr oozed from the Scrabbler’s belly— a sound so foreign yet entirely relaxing that it drowned out the echoing howls of swelling gusts that whipped your hair and numbed your cheekbones.

Still, nothing could ever stifle the way Qui-Gon’s subtle wisdoms stimulated your inner thoughts. Whether it was hours or days prior, once the gravity of his words set in, it was like rushing water to the crops of your mind.

You couldn’t help but drink it in.

“So… when I’m The Guardian, I’ll have to protect everyone else too? Why can’t I just help The Chosen One to keep balance in the Force?”

A sudden warmth enveloping your shoulder drew your gaze, along with your once stooped body, upwards. Empowering you to wonder up at the soft-eyed Jedi whose comforting grasp always reminded you that as long as he was around, you’d always be safe.

“Because all life is sacred, Young One. It is as meaningful as it is fleeting. It is when we accept this truth that we may find peace in the Galaxy.”

You grinned.

Until the wisp of glazed disorientation consuming Qui-Gon’s once bright, blue eyes drew it to falter.

“Qui-Gon?” You questioned nervously with wrinkled brows.

His jaw plunged open, orbs swirling gray as a sharp, red glow reflecting off their gloss caught your attention against the world’s white sheen.

You snapped your heed down toward a new heat, settled in the form of a blaring, red saber that burned your watering eyes. Sucking the life from your breath once your gaze traced its body from the hilt lying neatly in your palm all the way into Qui-Gon’s marred gut.

“Qui-Gon!” You cried. “I didn’t mean to!”

A maniacal hiss from just behind fluttered past your tingling ear, catching your heart in your throat as two fierce hands with sharpened nails dug ruthlessly into your arms to wheel you around.

A blood face lined by black streaks, craggy horns threatening to scratch out your skin, and eyes as yellow as the darkest side of the most rotten star.

“General.”

He grabbed your throa—

“General, sir.”

Shimmering silver eyes shot open, subdued shock heaving your once-lying chest upwards like a pebble stuck to the end of a string as you disjointedly adjusted to the warped, muggy cavern’s dimmed surroundings. That very instant in which your shoulders graced a higher altitude, you unconsciously scooted, palms scrambling your back to touch the rear, cold rock face while your mind caught up to the blood rushing in from your tingling extremities.

It was a brief existence of disorientation as disorderly thoughts gradually adjusted for the contrasting present. Allowing your senses to hone in on the fact that you were still within that happenstance cave on Lanos. One that you, Obi-Wan, and his Ghost Company of the 212nd decided to take short respite in, you quickly recalled.

Through that brisk remembrance, you found the blurriness of odd shapes soon cleared like melting ice into the curved lines and sharper cuts of clone troopers’ white and black uniforms, which graciously dotted your surroundings.

Some, like you, were resting against the cavern’s walls in various states of lying, sitting, and leaning, across or beside scattered Republic-marked cargo containers. A couple for shut-eye, and one group for, what looked like, a quick game of Card Commander, which you’d heard a bit about these last few days.

Others moved through the makeshift corridor manufactured by sporadically lounging bodies. Either in straight dialogues with one another or to strictly coordinate the transport of supply-riddled repulsersleds back out into the valley that formed this cave at least a millennia ago.

Most noticeable, however, was the clone trooper stood just in front of your once dormant figure. Presenting a silent disposition which dedicated his helmed stare to an existence of patient observation. All while you attempted to conceal somewhat erratic breaths emerging from that strange dream’s persisting sensation of bottomless emptiness as it settled within your chest like a voracious parasite.

Because it all just felt a little too real.

Nevertheless, you rammed that feeling down.

“Apologies for waking you, sir, but General Kenobi requested I inform you that we will begin moving again in the next ten minutes.”

You nodded, adjusting your spine against the rather uncomfortable, bumpy crag before glancing up at the bulkily masked trooper. One of the many soldiers in this Company tasked with acting as a defensive escort to a ground supply convo headed for the Republic’s Lanos supply port that still stood a few clicks out.

You recalled how the atmospheric electrical storm dancing beyond the skies forced the three cargo shuttles to land at least five clicks out from the compound in order to ensure a safe landing. Which, of course, left a quick trek as the only guarantee of a punctual supply delivery. All in hopes that this secondary mission would be completed in time for Kenobi to return the Negotiator.

He did have to coordinate an entire fleet rendezvous to protect the main supply convoys, after all. So, haste prevailed as the most important factor; no matter if Obi-Wan’s primary mission remained in the same system.

Speed, yes. A constant rush. That would explain why you felt so jostled when awoken. Particularly if you’d only been out for a few minutes.

Well, that among other factors.

“Thank you,” you croaked, throat dry from sleeplessness until you cleared it with a gruff cough. “And your name?”

“Designation CT-7212, General,” he straightened. “But the boys call me Boil.”

“Boil,” you hummed, tasting the vowels. “I like that. But call me Silvey.”

You climbed to your feet, reaching for your knees to pat off the dirt that had accumulated in your unconscious state.

“Sir?” He asked perplexed.

You glanced up at the man, and, were it not for the helmet, you would’ve seen a sharp, bundle of nerves stitch together his brows right about now.

“Close, but you’re missing a couple letters,” you teased, throwing a light smile toward the speechless soldier undoubtedly drenched in discomfort, until you adopted a more practical, commanding tone.

“No General, no sir. Just Silvey.”

Boil offered a curt nod. “Understood sir—uh—Silvey.”

You opened your mouth, loosened tongue primed to inquire about the approximate arrival time to the Republic port, when a vivid, repeating flash erupted from your wrist. Followed by a high-pitched beep and vibrating buzz that, in equal intervals, tingled like tiny Endorian ants up and down your non-dominant arm.

Your new wrist comm seemed to be aptly functioning, you thought while glancing down at the device. It was one of the few upgrades the Republic Army supplied for your wears. Much like the other handful of Jedi you’d seen dressed for battle, you bore forearm-length granite gray gauntlets and shin guards that blended well with your long-sleeved charcoal tunic and trousers. Even the sage shoulder guard did an excellent job extending into your similarly tinted robe’s design.

Though, in hindsight, it wasn’t the most appropriate clothing for such a humid cavern, considering how the cloth stuck to your skin and pulled droplets from your forehead like a desert heat.

All in all, you couldn’t wait to step outside into unfettered air.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” you informed Boil, who simply nodded before retreating down the passageway while you comfortably folded your legs to answer the comm.

Only to hear a familiar groan of annoyance as Anakin seemed to, once again, request that Ahsoka leave from whichever room he was currently occupying on a ship lightyears away. From what you could make out, he was suggesting to his Padawan that she inform the Admiral of their split approach tactic. Still, you couldn’t gather much else from the exchange as it was swiftly followed by the clear whoosh of a sealing door that prompted you to speak.

“Glad to hear that you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Sorry,” he huffed into the comm, a tin film separating the essence of his voice from you. “My Padawan has yet to learn how to talk with the Council.”

“Struggling with tact? Sounds like someone else I know.”

And the brief silence that followed suggested all you needed to adequately imagine the thin, unimpressed line characterizing the Chosen One’s frustrated lips.

Which was certainly enough to yank a healthy chuckle out of you.

Until a concerned edge cut you off.

“Obi-Wan dodged my question when I asked how you were a few minutes ago.”

Your jaw subconsciously tightened.

This is exactly what you were hoping to avoid.

Anakin worrying about you when he had much more on his mind to deal with.

You knew particularly well what it was like to lose someone you were close to. Including the dangers of tying another string to one more rattling tree so soon after a mother’s death. Which is why you didn’t want to complicate his potential endeavors of relying on the Force to forge ahead with your own, peeling branches.

Nevertheless, while you were sure Obi-Wan did his best in redirecting Anakin’s questioning, you were now close enough with The Chosen One to know that he was quite capable of catching someone, especially his former Master, in a subtle act of deception.

Although there was perhaps still a way to salvage this, you considered.

So, you feigned ignorance.

“Oh?”

“Are you okay?” He questioned without a lick of hesitation.

“I’m fine, Ana—“

“I know something is going on. That it has been for a while. But no one is tellin—“

“Anakin, drop it,” you stated tersely.

A perpetual silence seemed to cloud the comm line, interrupted by only the occasional pop of static that merely acted as proof of life.

Still, it supplied enough of a buffer for you to hopefully steer the conversation to something more… productive? Harmonious?

No matter the uncomfortable sheen that draped across your figure, that needed to happen.

He couldn’t have any distractions.

“Um,” you breathed deeply before releasing a noisy exhale. “If you heard from Obi-Wan, I assume it was during the Council meeting on that new Separatist weapon I’ve been hearing so much about,” you inquired somewhat smoothly. “Any news on your end?”

Another beat of complicated stillness crossed the communique before Anakin’s firm, business-oriented tone echoed through the line.

“Master Plo Koon’s fleet was in the Abregado System when we lost contact. Sensors say that this weapon may be why. But the Council ordered we redirect to protect the supply convoys.”

“Sounds like I’ll be seeing you soon,” you commented while your chest distended at the loss of life. “Who’s been tasked with rescuing the survivors?”

“Technically, no one,” he straightly remarked. “But… you also probably won’t be seeing me as soon as you thought.”

Well, that certainly tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Bring support,” you advised.

“Don’t worry,” Anakin relayed, a slight unsettlement underlying his tone. “The Master Insubordinate herself is tagging along. Ahsoka was the one who wanted to go in the first place.”

“Like Master, like Padawan,” you remarked lightheartedly, hoping to relieve the Jedi’s mood.

“At least she’s learning something, I guess.”

Though, despite the levity of his words, you could still hear the steady unease buffering his voice like a decaying foundation, fracturing all the way up to its highest spires.

A nervous trill swirled in your gut.

He seemed to be in better spirits before. So then…

Was this your doing?

Did your earlier deflection infect him with this gradual rot of apprehension?

“I won’t tell Obi-Wan,” you revealed, hoping to seize some sense that perhaps his tense articulations were primarily rooted in that particular worry. “But please update him when he starts coordinating the rendezvous. Otherwise, he’s gonna turn gray because of us. Well, if he doesn’t figure it out by then.”

Silence spoke for your groundless optimism instead.

And, against every warring cell of your being that despairingly endeavored to justify the past month’s clandestine behavior, it suddenly forced you to consider:

Were you making things worse?

No. No.

The alternative of sharing these strange afflictions was sure to confuse your role as his protector. His Guardian.

Not the other way around.

… but

Hiding it? When he already knew something was going on?

And it was that very justification that seemed to lift some invisible veil from your radiantly, silver eyes.

You’d driven this secret to its farthest bounds, when scooping at its crumbling remains proved to just pour sand into unwanted places.

And the result?

Keeping such a lid sealed only allowed for the pressure to rise.

And if there was any hope of ensuring that Anakin would be able to focus on his mission, on himself, without undeniable questions regarding your being bouncing about his brain, it meant that it was time to crack it a sliver.

Lest it explode into a million, tiny shards.

You exhaled, quite desultorily.

He believed in you. At least, somewhat.

And you him.

Though you still couldn’t help but shake your head at yourself as this decision haphazardly knitted its way across your synapses.

It was time to rely on that trusting notion.

And although, given the tightly wrapped string already knotted around your branches, there was little other choice, you could only hope that this was, in fact, the right one.

No matter how compromising it felt to share.

“I don’t know what it was,” you lowly breathed with mindless abandon.

Another beat.

“Huh?” His tired voice crackled through.

“What happened to me,” you angled your head to watch a handful of clones secure the last two, red and white cargo containers lining the cavern’s walls on a large, gray repulsorsled for travel. “I don’t know what it was.”

Anakin could’ve yelled until his throat turned raw and it still would’ve sounded like a distant squeak in comparison to the rumble of his quickening heart. A beat you could sense from his uncontrollably stilled breath thousands of planets away.

“What happened, Silvey?”

“I’m not sure how much Obi-Wan has told you—“

“Nothing,” he tightly reminded.

“He’s not to blame, Anakin,” you assured, eyes lifting to the cave’s rugged ceiling. “I asked him to keep this private.”

You sighed, closing your eyes momentarily as you gathered your thoughts surrounding the peculiarity of recent events while the Jedi on the other side of the Galaxy lingered in quiet anticipation.

“Pretty soon after arriving on Coruscant, I started having these strange headaches. They weren’t great, but manageable. Until it got worse. One of those times being in the fighter cockpit, if you recall. Eventually, I found some kind of solution. Well, a few. It’s hard to put into words. But, that’s not important. I—“

You swallowed thickly.

“There was an… incident. I was meditating and then, I don’t know, the headaches came back and my mind went… somewhere else? A different land, I suppose. A deadly one.”

You exhaled through your nostrils, taking Anakin’s perpetual silence as permission to continue.

“Obi-Wan was nearby so he helped bring me back before… before it was too late. But whatever happened in there… it changed something. I don’t know. I just don’t feel like myself, I suppose.”

You shrugged, forgetting temporarily that this was, in fact, not a holocomm call.

“From what I was told by Master Windu, I passed out. Spent the rest of the day in the Infirmary before being declared fit for duty and shipping out the next morning. Nothing has happened since then so hopefully it’s all in the past.”

“What do you mean another land?” Anakin questioned, crossed brows and tensed teeth traveling as clearly as his voice through the gravely comm.

“Just that,” you admitted honestly. “Another land. Lots of black rocks, rough waters...”

You bit your lip.

“Well, Obi-Wan did say he sensed a darkness there.”

“Not in you?” Anakin nearly pleaded.

“No, no,” you confirmed quickly, shaking your head for no one in particular. “Just in this ‘place.’” Uneasily, you rubbed your moist forehead with the back of your chilled hand. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“No kidding,” Anakin huffed, before his voice softened into a realm that nearly made you question whether he believed someone was eavesdropping from the other end of that far-off door.

“But, you’re okay?”

You smiled gently to yourself, chin dipping into your chest as you sensed a waxing alleviation flood his side of the comm before you even had the chance to respond.

“I’m alright,” you verbalized, releasing that last bit of trouble pervading your mind.

Well, other than that strange imagery your brain concocted earlier.

That was no dream, you soon surmised once you allowed such thoughts to finally coalesce into a more, credulous form since awakening.

It was something else.

A corrupted memory, perhaps.

You recalled that particular scouting day on Hoth. How the Scrabbler mistook you for a credible threat. And how Qui-Gon, as always, used the experience for a teaching moment.

But that red lightsaber... laid in your hands…

Piercing your Master’s life force.

A trickle of guilt crawled down your spine.

That devil face…

You shuddered.

No.

This was something entirely new.

And, still, nothing with enough substance to be quite concerned about just yet.

Nothing worth sharing.

“You better get going,” you counseled, focusing your mind on the present. “People need you, Anakin.”

“That they do,” he chuckled, leading you to subconsciously shake your head at his oddly charming ego.

Until he abated to relay one last item.

“Thanks, Silvey.”

You cocked your head curiously at his sudden warmth. “For what?”

Another crackle of the comm.

“For trusting me.”

Your shoulders relaxed.

“I’ve always trusted you Anakin,” you breathed. “Just needed a little reminder.”

“Then keep a calendar, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Shut it, Smarty.”

And, somehow, you knew that even hundreds of parsecs away, The Chosen One and his Guardian were, in equal measure, smiling at their respective comms with an expression only either would recognize.

“Bring as many of those boys home as you can, Anakin. You hear me? I’ve heard countless stories about Master Plo over the years. And no Separatist ploy can cut him down.”

“I’ll be sure to share your praises when I find him.”

You could taste his grin as your teeth parted.

“You better.”

—

If Master Kenobi appreciated anything during this secondary mission, it was Lanos’s proclivity for far-reaching, grassy plains and vivaciously deep gales. An environment that, in some ways, reflected Naboo’s natural monuments, which the bearded Jedi had opportune time to take note of during its battle ten years ago. Though, while Lanos carried less staggering plateaus, its rolling hills had the power to eclipse the sight of any mortal being, effortlessly putting Theed to shame.

Still, his enjoyment of these notable planetary characteristics stretched far beyond aesthetic pleasures. They acted as a strategic advantage for the task at hand: delivering necessary cargo while remaining hidden from the visual sensors of Separatist ships dedicated to broad-band sector scans only parsecs away.

It was why the General chose this pathway in particular. A profound valley whose towering, dense rock walls and thick vegetation would do wonders in concealing about 36 armed clones, 27 repulsorsleds of cargo, and two Jedi from periodic sweeps. Especially during an electrical storm.

Maybe it was that self-assured sense of security, that peace of mind imbued by the presence of a large Republic fleet in the sector above, that beckoned Kenobi’s mind to wander beyond those scattered, nine clusters of steadily marching clones and hovering supplies.

He was instead drawn toward the far more compelling presence trekking about ten meters ahead. Locked in friendly conversation with a convo-guarding solider who carried a green, circular mark on his helm’s rear.

You.

You. You. You. That’s all that consumed the General’s mind.

And, for quite a logical reason, of course.

It had only been a few days prior when the two of you narrowly escaped the brink of death at the hands of your own mind. An experience that flooded the Jedi’s thoughts with seemingly unanswerable questions and unsettling speculations. All rooted in one, unmistakable conclusion.

Obi-Wan sensed a great darkness there.

Never before the incident, not since after, and, frankly, never within you.

Never a part of you.

Just, there.

It was such a nebulous, unfamiliar sensation that no Basic words existed to support its nature— a conception which bloomed childlike echoes of uncertainty within Obi-Wan’s very being.

But even that wasn’t a fair assessment. Kenobi felt immeasurably more well-versed while a young Padawan in the intricacies of the Force and their purport than he had in the previous days.

Much like your headaches, those murky energies were there for as long as your mind was trapped. Until freeing you compelled them to disappear, preferably for good.

But what occurred in order for you to rediscover your connection to the light, so to escape that nightmarish realm, he did not know. All he knew was that in some peculiar way, he felt it affect him as well.

In a process that compelled him to momentarily misplace his being within the Force while he rushed to find it again.

Though it was nothing compared to what Obi-Wan experienced when he nearly lost you too.

Your spirit-paled face. Those cold fingers that rivaled even the temperatures of your home planet.

Your once vibrantly silver eyes faded into a distant, stiff gray.

Thank the Maker he hadn’t waited for the Healer.

Against the stony judgment of Windu’s agitated brows and thinned lips, Obi-Wan decided that he couldn’t just kneel there. He couldn’t simply linger. Doing nothing to aid you besides propping up your slacked spine before it slammed against the rigid balcony amidst that sudden fall.

The Galaxy, the Order, and Anakin needed The Guardian. And the Master Jedi was going to carry out his Council-given duty to ensure that exigency was fulfilled.

So, with a firm verbal commitment to his fellow Master that Kenobi would be getting help, he scooped up your nearly lifeless body into contrastingly scorching arms before taking off sprinting.

He zigzagged around corners, down winding staircases, and through twisting hallways. Dashing all the way, and ignoring every inquisitive glance and curiously dragging foot until he reached the Temple Infirmary.

“Just in time too, Master Kenobi. I believe we would have lost them had you arrived a moment later.”

Master Nema’s words reverberated against his inner skull like the ticking of a bomb. One he’d only nearly prevented from shattering everything in its path. It rang the loudest amidst those timeless seconds in which the uneasy Jedi, powerlessly staring from a distant corner, followed the platoon of medical droids swirling around your body that drifted in and out of critical condition.

It was not until the Master Healer deemed you well on the way to recovery that Obi-Wan found greater ease in dulling those eery tolls. Chiming bells signaling a now distant reaper of peace and light that trailed him all the way to Master Yoda and Windu’s emergency meeting called to be held on one of the high spire’s windy private balconies after the fact.

“Darkness in them or not. There is no gray."

A concept every Jedi was taught from a very young age, the bearded man knew. So he certainly didn’t need a reminder from the Grand Master himself. Especially when the fact of Obi-Wan’s analysis still held true:

“Yet, I sense it no longer.”

“Still, that argument remains immaterial, Master Kenobi. As you may recall, I have engaged with Silvey in deep meditation to access her mind for the past month and have had little success. Perhaps, in their momentary weakness, you were able to sense what was present all along.”

“Coincidence, it is not, their headaches and loss of mind. More, there is to this story. But in the light, Young Silvey resides.”

And Obi-Wan wholeheartedly agreed.

Not just because he was now beginning to understand the Jedi you were, but also due to another salient development that sprouted with a subtlety akin to the budding petals of a Jade rose.

That, while uncomfortably idling in the doorway of your infirmary cubicle for news, only a few hours after the droids recorded a steadily strengthening heartbeat, did Kenobi discover with boggled irises the faintest sensation of your mind’s presence for the very first time.

A distinct vicissitude that only he himself seemed to perceive.

The auburn-haired man thought he’d have a moment to explore this development too. He needed time to understand, to discover, what it was that could’ve possibly initiated this change. Maybe meditation during the temporary separation from your being, which was bound to occur with your recovery taking place amidst Kenobi’s next-day deployment, would provide some answers.

Yet, come the following morning, as the General ambled down the Temple’s outer hall, he instead sensed a familiarizing presence. It wasn’t until he turned into the hangar bay to greet one of his platoons did he come to realize why the impression felt so novel, as he clocked a fully mended Silvey chatting amongst the clones.

Undeniably, he had an obligation to pull you aside.

“You should be recovering.”

“I’m as healthy as I’m gonna be, Obi-Wan. I’m cleared for duty, and Master Windu said that I’ve been assigned to your deployment. So you’re stuck with me.”

And he certainly was.

He was stuck with you, and he was stuck with these new perceptions that, even just a few hours ago, drove his mind into backflips after summersaults as he endeavored to decipher them.

It was a strange sensation. He barely felt it. A blip from your presence during the Company’s brief recess at one of the valley’s cave entrances a click back.

A weight. A brief pressure leaning on his chest.

But, just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

And what all that meant was that Obi-Wan Kenobi was also stuck with himself. Throughout this supply port journey, while he paced those same ten meters behind your conversational figure, the bearded man felt trapped within that gnawing, clawing realization that he was simply following in the footsteps of that same dreadful mistake he’d committed during the prior month.

Leaving you to your own when he knew that something was wrong. Observing from afar when he had the power to say something. All ignored in favor of his omnipresent trepidation that was primarily fueled by your history of swift withdrawals whenever faced with internal inklings of distress.

Well, no longer.

Master Kenobi nodded to the black-and-white helmeted clone sergeant leading the gradually hovering group of repulsorsleds beside him, signaling that there was no need to follow before picking up his stride through the caravan’s strict formation.

A Jedi learned from the past.

And this particular Jedi was quickly inferring that if he wished to certify that you were, in fact, ‘as healthy as you were gonna be,’ he had to personally confirm it:

At least, that’s what he told himself while he promptly neared your ambling figure still enraptured by deep conversation with a Corporal.

There was no more polite waiting until the last minute.

The Master Jedi recalled the impression of holding your icy, limp body. How it felt like a shutter from a sudden coil of wind chill.

And he didn’t like it at all.

“Silvey,” Obi-Wan projected, causing you to pause mid-discussion in favor of angling your neck back toward him with expectant brows.

The bearded Jedi continued. “A moment?”

Offering a faint smile toward his resolved gaze, Kenobi observed as you briefly turned back to the clone.

“Nice talking with you, Getter. Let’s catch up later.”

And with that, you eased your heels back to walk beside the older Jedi. An action additionally facilitated by a sudden gust that tugged equally at both your fluttering robes like a raised sail.

“Getter?” Kenobi questioned light-heartedly as a faint smile graced his lips. “I believe he’s a new addition to the Company, so I’ve yet to learn the root of that moniker.”

Obi-Wan watched your knowing eyes pass onto him an aura of sweet appreciation that sprawled out to every inch of your body before leaving glowing remnants atop the receding grass.

“Your new recruit was labeled as quite the ‘go-getter’ during his Kamino days,” you expressed, nodding your chin toward the named clone marching ahead as your gaze focused in the same direction. “Which equals having an olive painted on your helmet. Green means go,” you chuckled.

Kenobi hummed appreciatively, allowing another whistle of wind to whip by your bodies as it challenged both strides with equal resistance.

Until it calmed enough, dissipating into a gentle blow, for his facial muscles to relax into the real reason he called you back.

“How are you feeling?”

“You know,” you began with a teasing lilt. “That’s the second time I’ve been asked that today.”

Obi-Wan cocked his head with interest, brows slightly furrowing with hands trailing to meet each other behind his back while he hung for you to resume.

“A friendly warning,” you smirked. “Anakin can read you better than you think.”

And then it clicked.

“Anakin had inquired following this morning’s holocomm meeting,” Obi-Wan soberly relayed, eyes glued to the verdant blades of grass traveling past his strolling brown boots. “But I assure you, Silvey, I hadn’t revealed anything about your condition.”

“It’s okay, Obi-Wan,” you calmed, moderately bobbing your head side to side in thought as you considered your words. “I’m choosing to look at it as a blessing in disguise. I think I made a mistake it not telling him earlier.”

Kenobi silently nodded before peering up at you inquisitively. “So, he knows?”

You offered him a distinct look.

“He knows,” you acknowledged, the General noticing as your silver eyes snagged onto some pointed sight beyond his other flank that brightened their gleam. “And he seems to be taking it well.”

Collarbone following your gaze, Obi-Wan glanced to his right when a whipping movement among the bordering foliage centered his own vision.

Streaks of fiery orange lined the back of some fox-like creature that darted from one bush to another. Its fur blending into a pale yellow, soft underbelly and hind legs that flared brightly below Lanos’s equally glaring sun.

It continued its frantic trek of sprightly bounds while skittering into thickets of obscurity. Though soon, the animal’s narrowed skull and gold-ringed irises found rationale to peak out from the opposite end of a latent bush, snout drawing a pure line of curiosity toward both your figures five meters away.

“And regarding my inquiry?” Kenobi gently pressed with a nonchalant regard centered on the timid creature as you and the bearded Jedi naturally reigned your steps into a brief pause.

Though, instead of distantly observing, the General felt through the Force’s most sensitive intricacies the subtle brush of your arm floating past his as you carefully approached the furry onlooker.

With one airy foot after another, all while ignoring the rear battalion’s continual trudge onwards, you reached a free hand to your robe’s pocket. Meticulous fingers searching for some loose item as you quietly spoke,

“Master Kenobi,” you hummed factitiously, digits grasping onto some cylindrical, crackling object that you swiftly tugged from its enclosure to reveal as a pearly white ration bar. “I admit, the preceding, mind-altering incident was not ideal.”

Smoothly, you snapped off a piece of the food item, the resulting crack catching the doe-eyed fox’s twitching nose. Drawing its creeping figure a step or two out from the concealing foliage as your voice evenly lowered in response.

“But I’ve had my fair share of fainting spells from exhaustive circumstances before. And I’ve recovered all the same.”

Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed perplexedly.

“Fainting spells?” He questioned under his breath, looking onwards with now crossed arms as your final paces and kneeling figure landed you before the creature's nervously narrowing eyes and prying spine.

Is that why you were acting so careless about this incident? Did you not know how close to death you nearly came? The Healer on duty or your Master would’ve fully explained what truly occurred, Kenobi assured himself. Yet, you appeared unaware. Oblivious to Obi-Wan’s efforts to save your life that oh so nearly fell short.

If so, he had a responsibility to inform you.

Perhaps it was this sudden conviction which dragged his once stilled feet to stroll toward your bowed figure. To approach the same generous being that fed each broken ration bar piece to a greedily licking fox whose snout relaxed into your warm, outstretched palm.

“We only have a finite count of those,” Kenobi expressed as he reached your side, eyeing the raised, gingered fur of a creature equal parts absorbed and oblivious. “It was intended to last you the day.”

You angled your outspoken head and raised brows back toward him. “I think we can both agree that he’s enjoying it way more than I ever could’ve,” you grinned glowingly, nose crinkling with each lick that clearly tickled your fingertips as the animal lapped up every last crumb of ‘flavor.’

A sight that caused a soreness to shoot by Obi-Wan’s sternum, disappearing just as quickly as it arrived.

The loss of innocence in this new world, he surmised. From this war, and the years preceding it. Seeing an act as simple and kind as this certainly did numbers to remind him of the peace that marked most of his Padawan days.

And he disfavored that he’d have to slice into it like a saber through bark.

“Silvey, do you know what happened after we exited your mind?”

Again, you twisted toward Obi-Wan, sharing an equally amused yet questioning expression that lifted you from your squat to shake off foreign slobber with a sliding clap or two.

“Um, yeah,” you shrugged your shoulders, pivoting to face the battalion’s forward movement before leaning into another hiking pace that led Obi-Wan’s white shin-guarded legs to traipse in tandem. “Master Windu said I passed out. Nothing a day’s rest in the infirmary couldn’t heal.”

Kenobi paused.

In fact, your words stopped him in his tracks altogether, the weight of which yanked down his leading foot like Coruscant’s gravitational pull on an incoming shuttle.

Obi-Wan’s probing eyes raked over your expression in search of any inkling of understatement. A fixed scan that would prod every image you reflected onto him until it satiated his urge with absolute satisfaction. A burning desire to learn of what truly happened when you left his carrying arms that day in the infirmary. And an aspiration that radiated from his orbs so fiercely, it snatched your noticing figure to halt alongside his as a concerned glow etched across your countenance.

“You were nearly killed, Silvey,” Obi-Wan hushed, hoping to keep his promise of discretion by ensuring that any nearby clone was out of earshot. “I felt your Life Force weaken in my arms. Master Nema said as much.”

Obi-Wan watched while your parted teeth tensed to chew the inside of your lip. Uneasy cheeks shifting as you raked a backhand across your lowered head in thought, wiping away a few, loose strands of sticking hair.

“I had no idea…” you uttered mindlessly.

Until your flitting eyes shot up to meet his. All while antsy feet, budged by rote, drew you both to lean into another march forward, toward the faraway Republic supply port.

“Why wouldn’t Master Windu tell me this?” You expressed, lips parted in thought as your eyes raked the traveling blades of grass for answers. “He’s known of my concerns for weeks.“

Another swiping ripple unfurled through the Force, driving Kenobi’s focus to tilt toward a familiar, fury blob dashing from verdant cover-to-cover as those recognizable golden eyes kept watch in its perpetual, ensuing creep. One whose curiosity apparently devolved into desire for another tasty treat.

Although not by any other Jedi’s standards.

“It appears you’ve acquired a new friend,” Kenobi commented, casually motioning toward the unceasing orange fox with a few fingers.

His words drew your lifted brows toward the endearing sight, with the critter’s smart golden eyes and sharp, conniving ears appearing to play a titular role in poking a restrained smile through once-drained features.

“During a time in which friends are most sought after,” you breathed before offering him a thin lip tug.

Another beat sprinkled by the resounding crunch of grass.

You roughly exhaled through your nose, eyes sheepishly drifting toward the carefully observing man before you stiffly articulated churning thoughts.

“I’m really starting to realize I owe Anakin a big apology.”

“Coincidence, it is not.”

Yoda’s eerily judicious words echoed against Obi-Wan’s skull like the instant that follows a visceral nightmare as his feet continued their steady tread across lusciously viridescent turf.

He couldn’t deny the Grand Master’s infallible logic. So much so, that his eyes pierced through your frame, passing by any deeper meaning of your long-forgotten words as his thoughts tumbled through logic spells.

This incident’s severity proved it to be no fluke.

It was something to do with your mind. And while Kenobi couldn’t grasp an ounce of clarity from the Force on the matter, he knew from recent history that any indications of what this was or where it was headed could be discerned from those peculiar, cerebral manifestations.

A thought that grew all the more concerning when a Jedi like Mace Windu failed to address it seriously.

A Jedi like him, as he blindly assumed that stress was the rationale behind your initial symptoms, despite your vehement dissent.

But, this time, Obi-Wan refused to let you keep it all inside. He wouldn’t disregard your perceptions again.

Luckily, on the former, it appeared that you were starting to agree.

“Silvey, in the nature of commensurate openness, I must ask, have you experienced any more symptoms since the incident? Specifically, in relation to your mind?”

Another gust of winding valley breeze swiped Kenobi’s robe against his legs, tugging his senses to canvas the vale. The perpetual brigade and whirring repulsorsleds’s even procession and the sunned fox agilely and stealthily weaving through shrubs not far behind streamed prominently around his perception. Even the gentle sway of a distant leaf tied to its maker, or the churning hiss of waterways that streamed through the surrounding mountains flowed with even impressions throughout the Force.

All before his mind circled back to the being at the forefront of his mind.

One whose uncertain, downcast gaze and gently parted lips had yet to answer.

And that was always an unfortunate sign.

“Silv—“

“General.”

Kenobi stalled his gate almost instantly, swiveling neck facing Lieutenant Waxer as his spine lengthened into the military-grade armor encapsulating his limbs while you correspondingly braked beside him.

“Apologies for the interruption, Sir,” Waxer elucidated toward the bearded Jedi. “The electrical storm has mostly cleared for communications. The Council is requesting your presence on The Negotiator for final rendezvous preparations.”

Kenobi nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Though he spoke with a hint of indecision.

“Go,” you clearly adjured, swirling Obi-Wan’s attention back toward your brilliantly silver eyes that easily caught onto his hesitant tone. “I can finish this delivery on my own. I’ll have Boil work with me on leading the rest of the clones temporarily in Waxer’s place while you two are off-world.”

Your first mission alone. Or partial mission, he supposed.

But you would be leading. And with limited training in the area of wartime feats. Something which certainly pulsated his unease.

“Go,” you assured, adorning a knowing smile that relaxed Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

But only after a few more seconds of analytical consideration did the Jedi Master finally raise a plain brow, tilting his beard as he left you with one final reminder:

“I’m a comm ring away.”

Taglist

@js-favnanadoongi

@panandinpain0

@randomwriter435

@soleywoley

@burnthecheshirewitch

@lemonherb

@imherefordeanandbones

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fandom-friday · 3 months ago

Note

SO I've been hosting a fic fair since July 10th while you were away and man do I have some recs for the fandom. Here's six that I got sent in that were so good. ( copied right off one of my posts listing them) I've made sure to mark which ones are NSFW The Revenant - Sev x ofc - by @mikaiyawa (Ao3 link)

He's Not Heavy, He's my Brother - Bad Batch Fic - by @therisingdarkness (Ao3 Link)

The Hardest Word - Bad Batch Fic - by @therisingdarkness (Ao3 link)

Unbreakable Bonds - Obiwan x OC (eventually NSFW) - by @thegreatwicked

Memories of Chocolate Laced Kisses - Obiwan x OC Nsfw - by @thegreatwicked

Lover, Fighter - Obiwan x reader - by @thegreatwicked

That is such a neat idea, and this is such a great list! Thanks so much for taking the time to put the fic fair together, and thanks for sending all of these in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

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shinseiokami · 10 months ago

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Don't worry about it just choose one

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okamimami · 10 months ago

Text

Telepatía - Part 1

(Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Female Character)

Rating: Explicit

Category: F/M

Read this on archiveofourown.org

Summary: Although love is not something that one can control, attachments of any kind are not part of the Jedi way. You can love, but you cannot fear to lose, but how do you not fear losing someone who is the better part of your soul?

Obi-Wan finds himself in a difficult position where he must choose love, the Jedi Order, or perhaps…both, if he can just keep it a secret.

“Quién lo diría

Que se podría hacer el amor por telepatía

La luna está llena, mi cama vacía

Lo que yo te haría

Si te tuviera de frente, la mente te la volaría

De noche y de día, de noche y de día

You know I'm just a flight away

If you want it, you can take a private plane

A kilómetros estamos conectando

Y me prendes aunque no me estés tocando

You know I got a lot to say

All these voices in the background of my brain

Y me dicen todo lo que estás pensando

Me imagino lo que ya estás maquinando”

- Telepatía by Kali Uchis

——-

Consequences. There would certainly be plenty of those considering how firmly the Jedi Code had been drilled into the minds of every being at the temple from a young, young age.

Attachments were forbidden for Jedi Knights, even those who were Masters and those of them who served on the council. There were no exceptions made for anyone regardless of how many lives they saved, disasters they prevented, or how spotless their record had been beforehand. If you are caught breaking the code, you leave. Simple.

Romantic attachments seemed to be hardest to avoid. Many of them did not have familial ones since they had left their families behind from such a young age. As they grew into young adults, though, many Jedi found it difficult to abstain from falling for another, sometimes with each other and sometimes with outsiders.

Sex itself was not forbidden, however, many still chose to abstain from it entirely. Obi-Wan Kenobi had given it a go at that type of devotion, but it proved to be incredibly difficult, especially considering the immense amount of stress he was often under from the work he had to do. Sometimes he just needed a release to forget about the undesirables.

He witnessed many disturbing events unfold before him often, including the deaths of several of his friends during difficult battles. He’d witnessed darkest in its deepest abysses many times and he’d never succumbed to it for the light lived deep within him and his connection to The Force, but the light often revealed horrible truths that made being a Jedi not for the faint of heart.

After Anakin went on to become a Master as well, Obi-Wan took on another Padawan. She was much older than Anakin had been when he first began training him, but that was because she wasn’t new to this. She had already trained for many years under Master Yoda until the centuries old Jedi one day decided she would be a better fit for Obi-Wan. It was uncommon to pass along Padawan, typically only reserved for times when their Masters had fallen, but there were no rules against it. Obi-Wan had spoken to her a handful of times in passing and he figured continuing to teach would keep him at the top of his game as he had been in recent years as he fought alongside Anakin.

“Do you know much of Verity Keene?” he asked the younger man as they sat across from one another as they typically did around this time of day if they were both in the temple.

It was the late afternoon and the sun was setting just below the horizon. He could see it in the distance from where they were sat in the garden outside the temple. The weather was warmer at this time of year, so their robes were less layered.

Anakin set down his cup of tea, raising an eyebrow at the man. He wasn’t sure why he would ask him about her. He wasn’t even entirely aware that he knew who she was. He racked his brain for any information regarding the girl.

“Not much. She’s a bit younger than I am, but we have talked a few times, sparred a couple as well. She’s good, she’s skilled and training under Master Yoda, she wields The Force well,” he explained with what little knowledge he possessed. Having been Obi-Wan’s apprentice from a young age meant that he spent a considerable amount of time away from the temple in comparison to the other young Jedi in training. “Why do you ask, Master?”

“Master Yoda has asked me to take her as my Padawan and help her complete her training. She is not far off, but he believes I will serve her better. Perhaps it is simply her personality, but knowing him, I feel as though it is something deeper than that,” he said, finishing off his cup of tea. He rested his hands atop one another on his lap, looking off in the distance. He was much less present today than he usually was and Anakin could see it.

“It couldn’t be for any bad reasons, though, Master. You know Master Yoda would tell you if he sensed any kind of disturbance,” said the taller, leaner male across from him. His words were somewhat reassuring, but there was still something that didn’t quite sit right with Obi-Wan. He decided he would wave it away for the time being. He would need to meditate before meeting her tomorrow for her first training session with him so that he could clear his mind. She would likely pick up on any apprehension from him.

“Maybe you should consider it as a gift, Master. She is quite beautiful, if you recall. I’ve heard a few others say so in passing as well,” said Anakin, somewhat of a mischievous smile on his face now. He was always far less serious about life than Obi-Wan, he lived with less fear. Sometimes that led him to make naive mistakes, but he always made up for it with his sheer power.

“I do not know what to do with that information, Anakin. She will be my student. I will treat her exactly as I have treated you,” said the bearded man. Anakin liked the walk the line when it came to the rules, but Obi-Wan was more careful. “Though…if she’s anything like you, beauty may make the headaches slightly more tolerable,” he continued. There was the slight joke, the slight banter that Anakin always pulled out of him to lighten the mood.

“Just try not to get too distracted, Master. You know how that goes,” said Anakin, chuckling softly as he thought about his own situation that he was currently concealing from the Jedi Council with the exception of Obi-Wan who had sworn not to intervene after almost having lost Anakin in a particularly gruesome battle that led the boy asking him to promise to take care of the babies.

“I have a little bit more willpower than you do.”

————-

For her first training session with Master Obi-Wan, Verity arrived a couple minutes earlier than she was required to be there. She was somewhat nervous. Padawan didn’t often get passed off and she wondered if she was doing something wrong, if Master Yoda had found something off about her. Yet, that wouldn’t make sense with how many responsibilities he had assigned her to in the past, the information he had trusted her with.

She sat down at the center of the platform where she could see the outside world from all sides except the one that lead her back into the temple. She straightened out her back, taking a deep breath in to clear her mind and body of stress as she began to meditate.

Verity had met Obi-Wan several times in the past, sparred with his own Padawan a couple times as well before he also became a master. Obi-Wan was the type of Jedi she had an immense amount of respect for. He was levelheaded and devoted, always looking to do the right thing, always striving to be better. She felt like she held a similar ambition.

Training with Master Yoda had left her with little to be distracted by. He was a small, green old man after all, but the Jedi Master she could now hear coming down the hallway in her direction was a sight for sore eyes, at least the yellow-ish brown ones that belonged to her. She tried not to think about his reddish brown hair and the few lighter streaks that highlighted throughout it or his blueish-green eyes of wisdom and sincerity. Shit.

Verity quickly pushed those thoughts away from her mind, hoping he hadn’t sensed them in any way as she heard his voice behind her.

“Hello, young Verity. How are you today?” he asked her as he stepped onto the platform. He was wearing his usual garments today, beige tunics and dark brown robe.

She usually opted for darker colors, wearing a similar set to his, but hers was mostly black and dark brown.

Quickly she rose to her feet, turning around to face him as she bowed with her hands tucked behind her back.

“Good afternoon, Master. I’m doing quite well today. How are you?” she asked him, watching as he settled on standing a few paces away, his hands on his hips.

“I’m well. Thank you for asking,” he said, a smile on his face now, which she somewhat nervously returned. She swore he could hear the way her heart was racing from where he stood. “Before we begin, do you have any questions for me? I’m sure we will get acquainted with one another as time passes, but I’m sure you might also have some curiosities.”

“Well, Master Yoda was a bit…vague, as he tends to be, when I asked him why I was being handed off to you. Not that- Not that I mind, but did I do something wrong?” she asked him, and he could see in her expression that she was worried about her standing amongst the Jedi and at the temple. It made him somewhat sad to see that she was clearly undergoing a great deal of stress. “I was just so close to completing my training…”

“Do not be worried about that, young one. He made absolutely no mention of anything negative surrounding you,” he responded, shaking his head side to side slightly as he did. “I believe he simply thinks we are…a better match based on your relationship with The Force. Master Yoda just wants to give you the best chance at success. I’m no Master Yoda, but I think you’ll find that I’m quite good at this.”

His smile widened at his own joke, which earned him a laugh from Verity who visibly relaxed now as her squared shoulders dropped slightly. Unfortunately, she caught herself distracted by the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled so handsomely.

“Thank you, Master. That’s quite reassuring. I could give you an assessment once my training is complete. You know, let you know how well you did,” she made a joke of her own now, softly testing the waters of how casual she could be with him. She knew him to be quite serious and thoughtful at times, so this was a side of him she was only now getting to know.

“Let’s focus on you for now, young Padawan. Shall we?” he asked, but she could tell by his expression that he wasn’t annoyed by her in the least bit.

They spent a bit of time sparring as he tried to familiarize himself with her style and study her flaws. The two of them danced around one another with their lightsabers clashing again and again, his blue one making contact with her own. He took note of the fact that she chose the same color as his for her primary flame blade. Not that the color blue was uncommon, but there were several options these days. Each color had its meaning, which young Jedi were taught early on, so he wondered if the history of the color spoke to her the way it did to him.

Other than when he sparred with the others such as Anakin, Obi-Wan almost exclusively drew his blade only when he absolutely had to. As all Jedi were supposed to, he only ignited the flame to strike down an opponent when he was in danger. This meant that typically he didn’t find himself thinking of how the blue light reflected off her long, midnight black hair or how it mixed with the amber tones of her eyes.

While he was distracted by his thoughts, she was able to finally land what should have been a critical blow had she followed it through to the end. She was holding her lightsaber dangerously close to his neck now, her face and her body only inches away from his own. They stared at one another for a couple seconds longer than they should have before he surrendered.

Her face lit up then, a big smile spreading across it as she made the blade disappear once again, stepping back from him.

“I finally got you!” she said, tucking it away on her side where it normally was. “I guess even the great Obi-Wan Kenobi is not completely invincible.”

Retracting his own blade, the older man cleared his throat, trying to recollect himself from the strange moment he had just experienced. He chalked it up to Anakin’s comments earlier having invaded his mind, pushing the thoughts away from himself as she had done earlier about him.

“I have to say I am impressed by your skills, Verity. I have a few criticisms, but I believe you will soon be able to correct your errors and be even better than you are,” he said kindly.

Even with the criticisms he had, she was happy to know he thought even somewhat highly of her skills. How you fought with your lightsaber was only a small part of a Jedi’s connection to The Force, however, so she figured they would be ruining through several lessons of different aspects soon. She hoped to impress him at all of them.

They spent the next several hours correcting her form. He would often demonstrate to her the difference between how he moved and how she did, then ask her to copy him. At times, he would even use his own hands to position her body differently, down to hold she held her lightsaber. There wasn’t much exposed skin to touch, but whenever his fingertips made contact with hers, she swore a bolt of electricity ran up her entire arm, though, she did her best to ignore it as he did.

When they were finished, she was slightly more breathless than he was as she had been doing much more movement than him since they stopped sparring. Her hair had gone up into a ponytail some time ago, allowing him to see more of her facial features of slightly plump cheeks with high cheekbones, lips that were fuller at the center and elegantly tapered off at the corners, and dark, softly arched eyebrows that typically disappeared behind her fringe. She showed little signs of aging on her youthful face as she was only twenty-one years old. He thought back to himself at the age and was even more impressed by how skilled she already was.

“Thank you for this lesson, Master. I quite enjoyed it,” she said, softly wiping at her face with a cloth she pulled from inside her tunic. Her face was flushed in the most adorable of ways now. “I appreciate your attention to detail.”

“I enjoyed it as well, Verity. I hope you are not too angry with Master Yoda anymore,” he said, pulling his robe back on as he figured they would both be heading back to their respective quarters now. It was late.

“I was never angry with him, Master, but now I think I’m actually grateful for his decision even if I was worried at first,” she said, her face dry now as she pulled on her own robe and hoped she didn’t look too messy. Despite his slightly damp hair, he still looked as alluring as he had when he walked in. It was unfair.

“S-shall I walk you to your quarters? We are in the same direction, I believe,” he replied. He cursed himself on the inside for his stutter, but the admiration on her face and the sweetness of her words had caught him off guard again.

“I would like that, Master. Very much.”

#obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #revenge of the sith #star wars #smut #obi wan star wars #obi wan x oc #master/padawan #obi wan fic #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fic

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dreamerwithapen1 · 6 months ago

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Graveyard of Stars (tpm ~ rots)

Slave to the Zaltos.

Despite the implication of her name, Evira Skywalker has spent her entire life chained to the ground. As a slave to the infamous Zalto twins, Evira spends her days working tirelessly in their tavern, from washing dishes and serving food to cleaning up the inevitable spilt blood and vomit. And thanks to her small stature and ability to sneak almost anywhere unnoticed, she was also privy to some of their less desirable operations, a fact that her mother absolutely detested. But as their slave, she had no choice but to obey their every whim. Being sold to another owner, possibly off world, was not an option- not when Anakin and her mother were still on Tatooine. She’d made a promise to herself the day that Anakin was born to always protect him and be by his side. And nothing could ever make her break that promise, not their owners, not their circumstances and poor lot in life- not even the Jedi.

Slave to the Jedi.

When Qui-Gon Jinn disrupts their life on the desert planet, claiming Anakin to be the ‘Chosen One’ and offering to free them both and whisk them away to the Jedi in order to train, Evira looks past the pretty words to see the ugly truth. He wasn’t there to free them. They would merely be exchanging one Master for another; their leashes being passed from Watto and the Zaltos to the Jedi Order. Everything in her rebelled against the idea. At least with the Zaltos, she knew what to expect. She knew how to bend their rules and keep them happy. On Tatooine, she knew how to keep her brother safe. But when Anakin leaps at the chance to start a new life, Evira doesn’t even think twice before going with him.

No part of her wants to be a Jedi, the supposed ‘keepers of the peace’. She chafes under their strict rules, their expectations, and their ever present eyes and ears watching and waiting for her to mess up. Everything about her seems to earn their disapproval- from her age to her strong attachment to Anakin, from her defiant nature to her refusal to call anyone ‘Master’. It was no secret that the Council wanted to be rid of her- and she them- but her saving grace came in the form of a young Twi’lek woman.

When Ziva Nol offered to take her on as her padawan, Evira expected her to be no different than anyone else, but Ziva surprised her. Having lost her two younger sisters to the slave trade, Ziva understood her in a way that no one else did. She gave Evira the freedom that she so desperately needed while guiding her in the ways of the Force, not as her Master, but her mentor. Under her tutelage, Evira began to see a life for herself among the Jedi, a place where she might finally belong and call home.

But just as all good things in Evira’s life, it doesn’t last.

While the Jedi transition from peace keepers to soldiers in the midst of a bloody war, Evira finds herself struggling between what she wants and what she is forced to be. And as Light and Dark clash inside both Evira and Anakin, the galaxy sits at a tipping point, the scale of good and evil balancing on the shoulders of the two young siblings from Tatooine.

Forever Tag: @darknightfrombeyond @arrthurpendragon @darkwolf76 @foxesandmagic @bravelittleflower @stareyedplanet @thophil2941btw

(If you would like to be added to my taglist, send me an ask or message!)

#ocappreciation #fyeahstarwarsocs #ch: evira skywalker #fic: graveyard of stars #obi wan kenobi x oc #star wars oc #star wars fanfiction #i love her so much you have no idea #and this summary is only a fraction of it all #her character arc makes me emotional🥲#i also really love these posters #they went through countless rounds of edits but i’m super happy with how they turned out #star wars #star wars prequels

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cinnamon-galaxies · 11 months ago

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Dernière Danse

Pairings: Obi-Wan x (opera singer) reader Warnings/Tags: song fic, romance, affection, deep conversation, both characters kiss Summary: You are an opera singer and Obi-Wan accompanies you to your home planet to protect you from the bounty hunters pursuing you. When you both visit a place that not only brings back beautiful memories in you, but also has a special influence on you, you both find yourself captured in an enchanting melancholy that feeds the secret affection you hold for each other. In the embrace of the atmosphere, you do what you cherish the most: sing a beautiful song, that unexpectedly leads to a fervent waltz. Song: "Dernière Danse" by Indila https://youtu.be/sCNbRElkSw8?si=92fJyU9U7k13UrMO Words: 1.9k A/n: It took me so long to finish the story and I will probably start a series with short stories about the romance between Obi-Wan and the opera singer.

~~~~~~

The soft glow of the moon bathed the ancient ruins, perched on a hidden cliff, in a silver radiance. Abandoned for millennia, this sacred place had been a sanctuary since your earliest memories. The magic of the ruins revealed itself most profoundly under the cloak of the night, an enchanted aura that drew you in like a long-lost friend. Although your visits had become infrequent since relocating to Coruscant, each return to your family home beckoned you to this hallowed ground.

The weathered murals that adorned the ruins told tales of dramas and ancient fairy tales, capturing your imagination since childhood. Tonight, however, your solitude was interrupted. Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi and a dear friend, accompanied you on this nocturnal pilgrimage. Duty bound him to protect you from the bounty hunters that pursued you, yet it was your idea to share this special place, a testament to the bond you shared.

Your voice, filled with a hint of melancholy, carried the weight of memories as you spoke to Obi-Wan. "As a child, my mother and I spent countless hours here. She told me stories of the ancient civilization that once thrived in these ruins." A fond smile graced your lips, and Obi-Wan observed the light in your eyes with keen interest. The beauty and tranquility of this place seemed to touch a chord within him.

"The Vaarhi, that's what they were called, right?" Obi-Wan recalled, his hand exploring the weathered surface of a stone brick as you nodded in agreement.

"Yes, they are my ancestors."

"Really?" Obi-Wan settled onto a worn brick, his touch absorbing the essence of the aged stone. "The spiritual legacy of the Vaarhi is evident in you."

You chuckled softly, remembering how Obi-Wan had remarked on your spiritual aura when you first met him after a performance. Closing your eyes, you inhaled the night air, momentarily lost in shared memories. In that quiet moment, your mind wandered to the unexpected connection that had grown between you and Obi-Wan. Fate seemed to intertwine your paths at every turn, leading you to a profound understanding. The camaraderie, the shared ideals, and the uncanny similarities in your personalities forged a bond that transcended duty. Despite your growing affection for him, a bitter-sweet realization hung in the air—the Jedi Code forbade the reciprocation of such feelings. But all of your encounters were not mere coincidence, but forget a connection that runs deeper than duty demands. It felt like fate and fate had a curious way of guiding, even when least expected.

The nocturnal symphony of the ruins seemed to echo the complexity of your emotions. The forbidden affections tugged at your heart, yet the night held a quiet reassurance that, for now, you could revel in the shared warmth of the ruins and the profound connection that had woven itself into the fabric of your intertwined destinies.

Your eyes fluttered open, determined to cast aside the intrusive thought that threatened to permeate your mind. Instead, you immersed yourself in the delicate perfume of countless flowers wafting through the air. A symphony of joyful colors and tender emotions enveloped you. "Indeed, Master Kenobi, spirituality courses through my veins. Historical tales, superstitions, and fairy tales evoke a melancholy that eludes verbal expression. It's this connection that allows me to empathize so deeply with my roles in the opera," you explained, turning to face him. His gentle gaze lingered on your silhouette, absorbing the details of your face and the flowing dress that cascaded around your legs like a waterfall.

As your melancholy brushed against him, his aura softened, and you studied his countenance with keen interest. Something stirred in his eyes, and your heart quickened. In the night's gentle illumination, his irises mirrored the bluish hues of the flowers adorning the ruins. A flutter danced in your stomach, prompting you to turn away, wary of revealing too much about yourself and the burgeoning feelings for him. The awareness that he could sense your emotional state added an extra layer of complexity.

With purposeful steps, you reached the cliff's edge. Crooked trees, aged companions of the ruins, lined the slope, guardians of the former temple complex that loomed above the evergreen grassland. In the absence of urban lights, a tapestry of stars unfolded in myriad colors, a celestial display unparalleled in many corners of the planet.

"This place is where my passion for singing was kindled," you shared, turning back to Obi-Wan, who remained a silent observer. A tingling sensation traversed your body, and once again, your stomach fluttered. These were the moments that hinted at a connection beyond what he was willing to acknowledge. The stolen glances, the lingering stares—could he truly believe you were oblivious?

"I can imagine this place has been a wellspring of inspiration for you," Obi-Wan replied, briefly diverting his gaze to the surroundings. "It's a rare beauty, unlike many places I've visited."

"It's profoundly special to me. A haven of tranquility, seldom frequented by others. Being here grounds me and brings me closer to my roots," you explained, moving away from the cliff to settle on a stone opposite Obi-Wan. His eyes followed your every movement. Yes, it was a sanctuary for you, and that's precisely why you had brought him here.

You drew in another deep breath, and began to sing, the haunting melody weaving through the quiet night. The song, a familiar refrain that echoed through these ancient ruins ever before, held lyrics filled with sadness and heartbreak—but at the same time, was equally beautiful.

"Ô ma douce souffrance. Pourquoi s'acharner? Tu r'commences. Je n'suis qu'un être sans importance. Sans lui, je suis un peu paro. Je déambule seule dans l'métro."

Obi-Wan, captivated by the ethereal sound, held his breath as your voice painted the air. It was a sound he had heard many times before, yet each rendition enthralled him anew. Your voice, incomparably beautiful, possessed an unforgettable and haunting quality that silenced his thoughts like a siren's song. Unable to tear his gaze away, he found himself entirely entranced.

"Une dernière danse. Pour oublier ma peine immense. Je veux m'enfuir que tout r'commence. Ô ma douce souffrance."

The lyrics, tinged with emotions that reached deep within, were a poignant declaration of your romantic feelings for Obi-Wan. While you had sung for him before, subliminally during an opera performance, this time was different. It was an intimate moment meant solely for him, and the weight of it hung in the air.

You shifted your gaze, peering beyond the ancient trees to the horizon where the sea of stars unfolded. As the refrain left your lips, your voice reached its zenith, yet still withholding a fraction of its full potential.

"J'remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit. Je danse avec le vent, la pluie. Un peu d'amour, un brin de miel. Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse."

Enchanted by the spellbinding melody, Obi-Wan gracefully rose from his seat and approached you. A gentle smile adorned his face as he extended his hand, seamlessly intertwining with yours. In a fluid motion, he drew you to your feet, one hand securely holding yours, while the other rested on your waist, eliciting a delightful shiver of excitement.

"Et dans le bruit, je cours et j'ai peur. Est-ce mon tour? Revient la douleur. Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne. Et je m'envole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole."

Obi-Wan's eyes locked onto yours, and with the onset of the next verse, he initiated a dance, pulling you into a surprising rhythm. You followed his lead, visibly taken aback; it was the first time witnessing his dance, a revelation that defied your expectations. You never imagined he would, let alone possess the skill you were now witnessing.

"Que d’espérance. Sur ce chemin en ton absence. J'ai beau trimer, sans toi ma vie n'est qu'un décor qui brille, vide de sens."

Lost in the depths of each other's eyes, you both shared a profound gaze. As if ensnared by an unseen force, you found it impossible to look away, losing yourself in the infinite galaxies reflected in his gaze. The gentle and loving smile on Obi-Wan's lips conveyed a message that transcended mere friendship, echoing the depth of emotions that unfolded in the dance of the night.

With each note of the ensuing chorus, your steps took on a newfound extravagance. Across the ancient stones, you and the Jedi glided seamlessly, your voice ascending to meet the night's gentle breeze. The moonlit waltz evolved into a dance of emotions, a symphony of harmonious steps, weaving an unspoken narrative as the hem of your long dress swirled through the air, lightly brushing against both your and Obi-Wan's legs.

"J'remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit. Je danse avec le vent, la pluie. Un peu d'amour, un brin de miel. Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse. Et dans le noise, je cours et j'ai peur. Est-ce mon tour? Revient la douleur. Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne. Et je m'envole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole."

In an instant, Obi-Wan cast aside all pretenses. Locking his gaze onto your beautiful visage, he guided you into a graceful spin, disregarding everything—reality, his duties, and the Jedi code. All he desired was to be near you and savor the present moment. It wasn't just your enchanting voice; it was the fervor in your dance that wholly captivated him.

As the third verse echoed in the night, you began to toy with your voice, releasing notes that resonated heavenly, traversing the ruins, the cliff, and far beyond. Gathering all your emotions and the love you harbored for Obi-Wan, you expressed them through your high, soaring tones. It was an unmistakable message, one reflected in his eyes. He comprehended every nuance of your expression, the declaration of love entwined with the ache simmering within you, intensified by the realization that your love was forbidden in this world.

"Dans sette douce souffrance. Dont j'ai payé toutes les offenses. Écoute comme mon cœur is immense. Je suis une enfant du monde."

As your message resonated with Obi-Wan, his grasp on your hand and hips tightened, his gaze conveying a myriad of emotions. It spoke volumes about your significance to him, the emotions you stirred within him, and the profound desires hidden beneath the surface.

With the final rendition of the chorus, you infused the last ounce of emotion and power into your voice. Your wide eyes locked onto Obi-Wan as he gracefully twirled you through one pirouette after another.

"J'remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit. Je danse avec le vent, la pluie. Un peu d'amour, un brin de miel. Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse. Et dans le bruit, je cours et j'ai peur. Est-ce mon tour? Revient la douleur. Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne. Et je m'envole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole."

With the final note resonating in the air, Obi-Wan orchestrated a concluding twirl. Your dress cascaded like a radiant veil, exuding an elegance surpassing that of a billion moons and stars. In the midst of the dance, you felt the sense of freedom coursing through your limbs, all while under the careful watch of the Jedi. There was also a sense of relief, because of the secret you have now unveiled.

As the momentum waned, Obi-Wan guided you back with deliberate ease. In one seamless motion, he drew you closer, releasing his hand from your hip. At the last syllable escaping your lips, his now-free hand cradled the back of your head, initiating a kiss.

Without hesitation, you leaned into the tender yet passionate exchange. A cosmic explosion of sensations surged within you as the long-awaited dream became true. Your hands traced over his tunica, threading through his hair, drawing him nearer. In that moment, all you yearned for was the eternity of this embrace.

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purgeturbia · 1 year ago

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i've been working on something for... quite a while. i'm not ready to share the whole thing yet (read: it's not even close to being finished), but this part of it, while mostly unedited, can stand pretty well on its own, so have a little bit of smitten obi-wan. as a treat.

*eta bc i forgot the first time: ~2k, canon-typical mentions of death but nothing graphic, mostly fluff

the rest of the work is not like this.

XXXVII. START WARS AND BURN CITIES

When he and Cody and the 212th had liberated planets from the Separatists — although he muses, now, that they had not done much liberating at all, if the end result was the desolate fear-space the galaxy has become — there had often been more time spent cleaning up the aftermath of their battles than there had been actually fighting. The machine of war was not a tidy one, and Obi-Wan hated to leave innocent people in a worse state than he had found them.

Often, during these pseudo-recovery times, he was excluded from the physical labor. Cody tended to push Obi-Wan off into the command tent to fill out the hundreds of forms that came with successful completion of a campaign, saying, “There are thousands of vod’e, sir, and only one of you,” but Obi-Wan saw it for what it really was — a chance (an order) to rest “for once in your kriffing life, General.”

Obi-Wan, after the first few campaigns, never argued. Crash would be on his ass for trying to help with cleanup anyway, and he did so despise being hauled to the medbay.

Though his stack of requisition forms and reports to write and casualty lists was always far larger than he cared to admit, Obi-Wan was, despite his field ban, never one to sit idle in command after a battle. He would, instead, crank out as much flimsiwork as he could before his body began to ache with the stillness of it all, and then he would mingle with the troops. The shinies, especially, were emboldened by his presence among them. They were so young, even the veteran troopers, and anything he could do to ease the pain of a life defined by war was an obligation, even if it was just a kind word here or there.

He was never content with the mental state of his men. Even after a decisive victory, or a battle with minimal casualties, or a skirmish with none at all, there was a sharp edge to their presences in the Force. Their hands shook ever so slightly and their smiles were never quite genuine and their eyes were constantly moving, observing, calculating.

The war lived inside all of them, himself included. The thing was, though, that Obi-Wan had had those few glorious years, before Qui-Gon and Bandomeer and Melida/Daan and the rest of his life that had come crashing down around him and never stopped, where there was no war in his bones.

His troops had been born with the war in them, and that was a pain he could not take away.

Even so, he would move through the camp like a fish through water, dropping hands to pauldrons and calling greetings across the expanse of tents. He would bring rations and fill canteens, and linger around medical looking for tasks until Crash told him to stop lurking and go bother somebody who would appreciate it. He’d always wiggled his eyebrows afterward, though, and told Obi-Wan very dramatically where Cody had gotten off to, so it was easy to see that he was never truly upset. Obi-Wan, in return, would blush about sixteen shades of red and very pointedly stalk off in the opposite direction of wherever Cody happened to be.

It was on one such occasion, on a forested planet Obi-Wan can no longer remember the name of, that he had turned away from Crash (and, he’d thought, Cody), only to stumble upon his commander preparing to direct half of Phantom Company through the process of removing a fallen tree that had crushed a house and blocked most of the packed-dirt road stretching through one of the little settlements they’d come planetside to defend. Obi-Wan could have moved the tree himself in a matter of seconds, but. Cody had told him to stay out of the cleanup, and one of his least favorite things in a time with many unpleasantries was upsetting Cody.

So he’d lingered on the outskirts, observing. Phantom acted, of course, as a well-oiled machine, and though fierce pride for his men bubbled up in his chest, Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment of indulgence. He leaned against a still-standing tree just behind the houses across the way from the crushed one, and watched Cody work. He was a study in professionalism, in genius, even when faced with a task so simple as moving debris. Cody burned with a focused intensity that matched the sunburst on his armor as he paced around the tree, and they had spent long enough nights hunched together over sims and holotables that Obi-Wan could easily guess the questions being mentally asked and answered in quick succession: how heavy is the trunk? How many troops do I need to lift it? If we apply more leverage here, will the house be more damaged or less?

It struck Obi-Wan then that he had not had time for fanciful things like poetry since the war’s beginning — but then again, maybe he didn’t need it. Maybe it had been right in front of him all along.

It was in the midst of this realization that he was pulled out of his thoughts by a presence at his elbow. When he turned, it wasn’t a clone, as he’d been expecting, but one of the locals; a wizened old woman leaning on a painstakingly carved wooden cane. She was not looking at Obi-Wan, but at the troopers as they worked. She was looking at Cody.

She had spoken before Obi-Wan could. “Strange, isn’t it.”

He waited a beat, and then another. She was silent beside him. “That would depend on what it is, I suppose,” he said eventually.

She laughed, though it was more of a huff than anything. The indulgent sort of laugh that comes from a person who knows a joke has been made but who doesn’t really feel like laughing. “All of this. The war, the clones. The Jedi, leading them. You’re not meant for this, are you.”

It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t answer it. “You know,” he murmured, “you’re the first person … outside of all this, to notice that.”

She laughed again. It was no more sincere than the first time. “Am I really on the outside, Master Jedi?” she asked. “Are any of us?”

Obi-Wan knew she was right, so he merely inclined his head. Cody was positioning Phantom around the tree. It looked like his plan was to heave it up and over the houses and the road using applied leverage from the base, and dismantle it for lumber once its position was no longer an immediate problem. It was a good plan, very practical, very Cody, and Obi-Wan couldn’t quite keep a small smile from creeping across his face.

He startled when the woman spoke again. “Is it worth it, then?”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed and he hummed, confused. To protect the innocent, of course the war was worth it. He wasn’t meant for it, none of the Jedi were, but he would fight it a thousand times over to save those who could not save themselves. Why would she ask him that? Why else would he be here?

He felt eyes on him, then, and turned to see the woman finally looking at him and not at his troops. Something in her face reminded him of Yoda, like she had lived a dozen of his lifetimes and known more than he could ever hope to learn. “Is it worth it,” she repeated, and continued, “for him.”

All of the breath left Obi-Wan’s body in a rush. He suddenly felt exposed, uncovered, though he was sure of his safety in the saber hung at his belt and his trusted men not forty meters away. Little gods. Two words was all it took to undo the great Negotiator. But he supposed nobody had ever come so close to his soul with two words before. He was, for the first time in a very, very long time, unsure of what to say.

“I —” he started, and stopped just as quickly, because he’d been about to defend himself, but there was no need to defend in a battle that was already over. He settled on, finally, “He is … very dear to me.”

“You would not have met him without this war.” Something in her voice was sharp, and he knew the words he spoke next would determine whether he passed a test she didn’t even know she was setting. “He would not even exist.”

He chose his response carefully. “No. But sometimes I think — perhaps it would have been a gift, for them, to never have lived at all.” He took a deep breath, steadying. “They have never known anything but war. They were bred for it, raised on it, and now they breathe it and eat it and it haunts their dreams. As much as the idea of it pains me, a galaxy without him in it, he would not exist without his brothers, and they would not exist without the war in their bones.” He turned back, toward Cody, who was helping lift the base of the tree, readying to swing it out away from the road. “How can that be worth it? The misery of millions for the happiness of one?”

The tree was suddenly standing again, propelled into the sky by Cody’s careful placement of force and the sheer brute strength of battle-hardened troopers. It wheeled above them for a moment, rotating, before crashing into the ground and sending up a cheer from the men. Obi-Wan was caught momentarily in the sunbeams of Cody’s victory smile, radiant, glorious, beautiful even from a distance.

“You love him,” said the woman.

To hear the words out loud tore at something in him. He would never be able to say them himself, but he’d stopped denying the truth of them long ago. “Yes,” he said simply. “He deserves more than this, better than this. I would never wish this existence upon him, and in another life I would never claim this war to be worth it just so I might have the honor of —” the word loving stuck viscerally in his throat and he swallowed around it, “of knowing him again.”

Obi-Wan folded his arms tightly, wishing he had thought to bring his robes with him then, if only for something to do with his hands. Cody, having finished delegating the deconstruction of the tree, had spotted the odd pair and was heading over, bright with his success.

The woman, looking at Cody and then back at Obi-Wan, huffed that strange not-laugh again. “If you win this war, Master Jedi, will it have been worth it?”

With Cody striding toward him, Obi-Wan was stuck between the sensations of a heart full to bursting with the pain of a love he could never truly have and the gut-punch realization that maybe, someday, he could. He barely managed to gasp out an “Oh, I —” before Cody was upon them, saying, “General, sir, I thought I told you to stay at camp,” but his smile betrayed him, and Obi-Wan found himself grinning back, breathless, and for a brief moment there was no war and no winning and no losing; there was only them, together, and the galaxy was theirs for the taking.

Now, the surface of Tatooine is dark and chilled. Wind whistles around the hut on the edge of the Dune Sea — a sandstorm will hit in the next few days, and in the morning they’ll need to start preparing. The memory of that woman comes back to him, unbidden, and he clings tighter to Cody, wrapped in his arms on Obi-Wan’s lumpy old bed. He thinks of Anakin, as much as it hurts to, and of the thousands of fallen Jedi, and of every clone forced to take the life of innocents, their bodies their own but not their minds. The war lost him everything, everyone, and everywhere he’s ever loved. But little gods. Cody is alive. He’s here, and safe, and they’re together again, his sunshine returned to him. Obi-Wan hates himself for it (hate leads to the dark — please, stop, please), but the worst parts of his soul are screaming it: maybe for this, this small salvation in the ruins, everything had been worth it after all.

#star wars #codywan #cody x obi wan #my writing #i made a whole ass spreadsheet for the gar including ocs for this fic #crash is my 212th medic. i love him #and phantom company is real TO ME. my baby children <3 #this fic is gonna be so fucking long when its done #please let me know what you think! don't be a dick but otherwise tell me things :)#amg

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mrshiraethsworld · 14 days ago

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HEAVENLY LIGHT ━ obi-wan kenobi ✩

i couldn't unlove him and i didn't want to

THE LEGEND OF BAETHEA read here: wattpad

tag family: @arrthurpendragon, @eddysocs, @darth-caillic, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @kmc1989, @ocappreciation, @ocs-supporting-ocs, @lostinwonderland314, @oneirataxia-girl if you want to be added to my family, all you have to do is ask!

#my fics #the legend of baethea #fic: heavenly light #ch: catalea adonis #obi wan kenobi #ewan mcgregor #star wars #obi wan kenobi x oc #starwarsedit #oc gif manip #fanfic #starwarsfanfic #wattpad #wattpad fanfic #ochub #ocappreciation

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hesthermay · 2 years ago

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𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 (𝐏𝐓 𝟏)

PAIRING: obi-wan kenobi x fem!oc reader

SUMMARY: the shrill sound of blaster fire, red and blue shots of light cutting through the deep fog. the call of a trooper to his general, voice almost blending in with the chaos filling her ears. a blue lightsaber, illuminating the form of a quick and nimble jedi. copper hair, soft and somehow still shiny, as her fingers carded through the strands in the dead of night. flashes, these were—visions and dreams plaguing the goddess of the sun; the sun witch; whatever she may be called. viarruh finnall, the queen of orret, knew she was meant to do more for the galaxy, meant to be out there and meant to be with someone, and with the help of a dear friend that is exactly what will happen.

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

RATINGS + WARNINGS: general audiences, mature themes, slight angst? female oc, use of she/her, mentions of death, soulmate trope, eventual fix it fic. the clone wars time period.

NOTES: this oc and story has been living in my head for actual months. i love viarruh, and i sincerely hope you all do too! her and obi <3 ugh <3 there will be more to this story, i can’t say how many parts bc i’m honestly just winging it but it will follow the clone wars timeline, but it should be alright if you haven’t seen the show. also! i am planning on posting this story to my wattpad! if there are any inaccuracies or things that aren’t quite right, i’m doing my best! but i’m also flying by the seat of my pants so! oops! anyways feedback is always appreciated love u pookies

STAR WARS MASTERLIST

It was quiet in the Jedi Temple, the long corridor leading to the council room almost deserted; save for the four occupants huddled together.

Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala stood side by side as they attempted to offer small comforts to the pair before them. Time seemed to drag on as they all waited, tucked away next to a large column to retain as much privacy as possible, and nerves were understandably growing stronger.

“Just don’t look at him,” the Jedi Knight offered, holding his hands up as if the answer was so simple. He could not be faulted much, however, because he stuck around even when he had no reason to.

“Don’t look at him? I dream about him every night and you expect me not to look at him?” The woman across from him questioned, incredulous words filling the small space of their circle as her sculpted brows furrowed.

“Ani,” Padme sighed, shooting him a small smile nonetheless.

“I think what the General means,” the last member of the group interjected, his low voice easing his companion’s nerves ever so slightly. “Is that when you give your speech, do not focus on him too much. It will only distract you, and…” he drawled, words sounding like a question.

“...it’s something we can unpack later,” the woman finished with a nod, filling her lungs with air before exhaling.

“Good, very good, my dear.” Aged hands squeezed her shoulders before her attention was drawn elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the form approaching them from afar, and it was familiar to her, but it was not the man she was stressing over.

It was a Kel Dorian, a Jedi the woman had seen more than once in her visions. When he was within earshot, the woman hesitated before she opened her mouth. “Koh-to-yah, Master,” she greeted, attempting a small smile. A small effort, a metaphorical hand outstretched to make a good impression, and the man stopped in his tracks upon hearing her. It was difficult to read him due to the mask covering his face, but he bowed his head in return. A choice, to accept the hand.

“Koh-to-yah, Your Majesty,” his deep voice replied, before he continued the short trek to the council room.

“Okay, it shouldn’t be too long now that Master Plo is here,” Anakin explained. “I promise, it won’t be as bad as you think.”

There was no time to reply to him, for the doors opened and the Jedi from before, Master Plo, stepped out. “You may enter, Your Majesty. I do apologize for the wait.” He held out one arm clad in armor, and the woman detached herself from her support group with one last glance.

“Oh, no apology needed, Master,” she assured, voice soft as she passed him and crossed the threshold into the large room. Before her sat every member of the Jedi Council, some in person, some over holocall, but they all gazed upon her in a daunting semi-circle.

Her eyes zeroed in on him immediately, breath catching in her throat and heart freezing in her chest. Obi-Wan Kenobi, with his copper hair that shone in the sunlight that streamed through the many windows, was somehow even more perfect in person than in her dreams, and she did not know how that was possible.

She hoped that her face didn’t give her away, cursing herself for the falter in her stride when they made eye contact. She dismissed it, told herself to give no thought to the way it looked as if the man struggled just as much upon seeing her. That was impossible, a trick of the mind; for she was only human after all.

The young woman was suddenly aware of every aspect of herself, from the way her dress lay as she stood in the middle of the room to how heavy the crown she often wore felt on that day.

“A pleasure to see you, it is, Viarruh Finnall,” came the croaky voice of Master Yoda, and so that was where she chose to focus her eyes as she forced herself to remain calm.

“The pleasure is all mine, I can’t thank you enough for taking the time to hear me out,” she smiled, as polite as ever in a formal meeting. She did not have much experience with Jedi, but she did have some when it came to being a Queen.

“Of course,” the man sat next to Yoda replied, his hands clasped before him. “What can we help you with, Your Majesty?”

Viarruh took another deep breath, gathering her bearings before she dove into the explanation she could only hope she delivered in a clear and concise way. Her hands reached down and fluffed her dress slightly as her lips parted, nerves shoved to the back of her mind. “How much do you know of my planet’s culture?”

A moment passed in silence, her eyes flitting from one Jedi to the next, before she continued. “Or, more specifically, how much do you know about my family?” Another beat of silence, and she began her little walk around the circle she stood in, movement helping to disperse the nerves buzzing throughout her. “In my family, the crown is passed down from Queen to Queen, traditionally mother to daughter; and that is because we possess something that I understand to be somewhat similar to the Force,” she paused, eyes landing on Obi-Wan subconsciously. He was stoic as ever, hand raised to cover his chin as he listened, and was little comfort in the moment.

“It’s ancient, older than old, and it’s…” she laughed slightly, arms moving about as she spoke. “It’s magic. That’s the only word for it. Some have called us goddesses of the sun, others have called us sun witches; regardless of that, we are capable of things normal humans cannot do. We have a connection to the sun and possess abilities that aid us in protecting our planet, our people. Traditionally,” she sighed, “mother would teach daughter how to use and strengthen these abilities, but I have been without my teacher for quite some time. I haven’t had my master to help me, I’ve been on my own with only the light to guide me in the right direction, and I will not lie to you all. There are things I still don’t know about myself, things I’m still learning. This magic, it only grows stronger as time passes, just as I do, and I have not mastered much yet.”

“Magic?” Someone questioned from behind Viarruh, and she twirled around to face the man. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but magic is not real.”

This reaction was not one Viarruh was unfamiliar with. The condescending tone in the Cerean’s voice did nothing but roll off her back like water. Just as she was about to respond, someone beat her to it. A few seats away, a Togrutan woman illuminated in blue as she called from wherever she resided, addressed her colleague. “Master Mundi, perhaps we should keep an open mind, this galaxy is bigger than you might think.”

The man, Mundi, as it turned out, grumbled to himself but settled into his seat nonetheless. A small smile stretched across the queen’s face, and she lit up with an idea. “On the contrary, Master Mundi,” she raised a finger, and spun around to find the beams of light trickling into the circular room. “Magic is real, and I can show you.”

She stepped forward, hand outstretched before it was enveloped in the streams of warmth. Not a moment later, the light began to shimmer around her hand, golden sparkles covering her skin even after she pulled away. She held it up to show everyone, eyes flitting down the line of people before they settled on Master Plo. The grin she shot him was, all things considered, tame compared to her usual mischievous smirk, but the man did not know that. As the woman floated towards him, all he could think of was Ahsoka Tano, and how she must be a copycat for she looked almost the same when a plan formed in her mind.

When she finally stood before him, slender fingers were placed on his forehead and the still glittering light showered down and covered his entire body. Warmth filled him to the brim, as if the sun itself was beating down on a summer’s afternoon, and his eyes shut momentarily. When they opened again, Viarruh was still standing before him, hands at her sides but giving him a hopeful look. “Fascinating,” he mused, and the woman chuckled before bowing her head and returning to her spot. Behind her back, Plo made eye contact with Yoda before he nodded just once.

“That,” Viarruh began again, “was only a simple trick, but I feel a good example of how real my connection with the sun is. Recently, it seems I have…unlocked something. A new ability, something I had seen my mother deal with but not something she ever had the chance to help me with. I have been having visions and dreams,” she explained, face serious as she grew closer to the heart of her speech, the real reason she had called upon the Council.

“And they are only getting stronger and more persistent. Every day, now multiple times each, my mind is taken over and my eyes glow golden and all I can see is this war. I have seen it all,” she stressed, nodding her head a few times at the disbelief on some of the master’s faces. “The assassination attempts on Senator Amidala’s life, the Battle on Geonosis,” she listed, eyes wide. “I’ve seen a handful of you fight in battles, seen you risk your lives against swarms of droids. And I see myself, too; fighting with you, helping you and your men bring this closer to an end one day at a time.”

The room was so silent, one could’ve heard a pin drop, if anyone dared to move a muscle, that is. Every Jedi sat frozen in their seats, eyes all trained on the woman in the center of the room, and for a moment she felt like prey being stalked by predators. But she could not afford to let that get to her, let it throw her off her game because she was in too deep now to back out, to lose.

“I know, I know it sounds absurd, but it’s the truth. I have never been so certain about anything in my entire life, as I am about the fact that I am meant to do something in this war. I can feel it in my bones,” her fists clenched to emphasize her words, eyes boring into each and every person they landed on. “I believe that every person in this galaxy has a purpose, something they are meant to do, either for themselves or someone else; and I know in my heart of hearts, in every crevice of my mind, that I am meant to fight with you. My entire life, I have always had an intuition that rivaled anyone around me; sometimes I just know things and I am seldom wrong. I have never been led to believe I cannot trust my emotions, and that is how I know these visions mean something. I see with more than eyes.”

Her feet stopped moving, planting themselves in the dead center of the circle she had been pacing with toes pointed right at Master Kenobi. “Please,” she breathed. “You have to believe me, have to trust me that this is meant to happen.” His blue eyes bore into her, and she could not find it in herself to look away from them. If anyone in this room believed her, it had to be Obi-Wan. He had to know that she saw things beyond herself, that she thought of him every day and maybe, just maybe, she could tell him that she also dreamt of him every night. During the day, it was battles and clones, lightsabers and blaster fire; but at night, it was him. Moments of sneaking affection, fingertips brushing fingertips, late night conversations where no prying eyes could catch them, kisses, soft and sweet and sacred in their secrecy.

When she finally did break contact, flashes of his laughing face being pushed to the side, she looked to Master Yoda. “I love my job, and I love my people, but it eats away at me sitting in that castle instead of being out there.” Her voice shook under the severity of her emotions, the weight of her words and what they meant too heavy to hold steady in front of the audience. “I am absolutely riddled with guilt every time I see a clone fall, or a Jedi get cut down, and I know I can’t save everyone but I know I could do something.”

It had been a long while of Viarruh being the only one speaking, everyone else sitting in silence as she spilled everything that had been occupying her mind for months, so when she finally concluded her speech there was a pregnant pause, a swallowing quiet that left a pit in her stomach. This was it, she had nothing left to add to change their minds, should they send her away with her insane claims and delirious visions. She knew full well how crazy her request was, to want to fight in a war when her days consisted of royalty and sunshine, but it was about doing what was right, not what was easy.

A croaky voice broke the silence, bringing all eyes to a green Jedi huddled in his chair. “Thank you, I do, for coming forward with your visions. Frightening, it is, to share something unknown.” His head bowed slightly, ears moving with him. “Some time, we will need, to discuss things. From the temple, stray not, please.”

Relief, in its purest form, washed over her when his words registered. She was not being sent away with no thought to what she had to say, she was not laughed at for the emotion she showed.

“Of course,” she answered, bowing her head as well. “Thank you for your time. I shall be with General Skywalker in the meantime.” With that, she turned to make her exit, eyes lingering on a copper haired Jedi just a moment longer than they should have before her feet carried her across the room and over the threshold. Behind her, the doors shut and her shoulders slumped, closing her eyes while the sounds of shuffling feet filled her ears.

“Well?” Padme urged, unsatisfied with the lack of information being given.

“They listened to you, didn’t they?” Anakin fired immediately after, and Viarruh was struck with how similar they could be. Two peas in a pod, they were.

The young woman nodded her head, careful to mind the headpiece she wore once it bumped on the wall behind her. “Yes, they listened. No, Obi-Wan didn’t speak to me,” she answered, already knowing those were the two hot questions burning on everyone's minds. “Master Yoda said they would need time to discuss things, and not to stray from the temple.”

“Well, that’s good,” the eldest member of the group pointed out, aged face displaying a hopeful expression. “They could have said no and sent you home, but they’re considering.”

“Ellman’s right,” Padme interjected, face serious now that the first step of their plan was completed. It was only just a day ago that they wondered if they would even be able to do it, and here they were with one foot out the door already. “Now, should they say yes we need to have all of our points laid out for when we speak to the Chancellor. I have everything in my office in the Senate building.”

“I shall accompany you,” Ellman offered, his role as the queen’s main advisor ever present.

“Perfect. Ani, you stay here with Vi while we’re gone, and comm me when they bring her back in.”

“You got it,” he grinned down at her, and her business face melted for just a moment before she had to look away.

“And don’t get into any trouble, you two,” she warned, finger pointed at her husband before going to her best friend.

“Pads, we’re in a sacred temple, what kind of trouble could we possibly find?”

-: ✧

“Is that all you’ve got, Your Majesty?”

Although Viarruh had seen him in her visions, she had never met the young man who had captured her friend’s heart, and so she was not yet prepared for how arrogantly taunting Anakin Skywalker could be. He was caring, that much she could see; he had done his best to help with her pre-meeting jitters and now, was occupying her during her wait at the Jedi Temple. And yet, his voice carried across the sparring room with a challenging lilt curling around the words, solely meant to egg her on.

“Be careful what you wish for, General,” she warned, eyes bright and sharp and lips pulled into a smirk that only screamed trouble. Her hand shot out and in it formed a staff, appearing in a flash of light right before Anakin’s very eyes, though he still blinked a couple times as his mind attempted to catch up with what had happened. When he finally brought his attention back to the present, he only had moments to duck before the staff made contact with his face. Whatever it was made of, it did not appear to weigh her down as she moved with a frightening grace; and it stood up against a sword meant to cut through anything. She was capable, challenging, even, but she would need more training if she wanted to join them in battle. This was made clear to them both when the match ended with Viarruh’s staff on the ground some feet away from her and the blue blade of a lightsaber pointed right at her throat.

“I suppose you win this round, Skywalker,” she conceded, hands raising in surrender. Just as her opponent went to reply, most likely another boast, he was interrupted by the sound of clapping. Their heads turned in unison, and their eyes widened together just the same. The blade disappeared into the hilt of the saber and the heat fled from her neck, though it returned not a moment later as she registered who she was looking at.

Stood by the entrance was Obi-Wan Kenobi, hands coming down to clasp behind his back. “Impressive,” he mused, and the sound of his voice meeting her ears in person nearly knocked her over, but she remained steady as he started moving towards them. “It seems I taught my padawan well.”

“Yes,” she replied after realizing that Anakin’s silence was a push for her to speak up. “It seems so.” Her eyes cut to the man beside her, and he knew he would be in trouble later.

“And you, Your Majesty, are quite the fighter. I didn’t realize how frightening you could be.” By now, Obi-Wan was in front of the pair, looking at them with crystalline eyes. Viarruh tried not to think about how she looked at the moment; their fight had been long and was easy by no means, and she could feel the sweat gathered on her brow all the more under his gaze. She knew her hair was a mess on her head, having been knotted when she hastily removed the crown, and she didn’t dare look down to see if her dress was crumpled and crooked. She only prayed to Maker that it wasn’t as she stared right back at him.

“It comes in handy,” she quipped, heart skipping a beat in her chest when his smile widened.

The moment, if it could even be called that, was shattered when Anakin finally decided to make his presence known once again. “So, Master, what can we do for you?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes didn’t seem to want to leave the woman before him, but they eventually flicked to his former student, and he had to clear his throat before speaking. “Ah, yes, the Council wishes to speak with you again, Your Majesty.”

“Of course, just let me grab my things and we’ll be on our way,” she smiled, before turning to her new friend. “General, would you please comm Senator Amidala and Advisor Ellman while I speak with the Council?” She had already started to walk away from the men when the answer came, and she did not have to look at him to know he was grinning at her.

“Yes, yes, I can do that, Your Majesty.” She turned to squint at him, hands running through her long strands when, to her horror, he started to walk towards the exit. “I will go do that right now.”

Her fingers forced themselves to resume their movements as she turned away again. She found herself alone with the man she believed to be her soulmate, as if her nerves needed anything else to buzz over. When she did spin around to face him, he was already looking at her. Her cheeks burned even more, but in spite of it she held her hands out, gesturing vaguely to the crown now on her head as she made her way back to him. “Look good?”

Once again, words seemed to stick in Obi-Wan’s throat when her eyes were on him. He stuttered slightly in his reply, and cursed himself silently. “Yes. Looks good,” he nodded, suddenly shy in front of the queen. “To the council room?”

Viarruh was intuitive, and on top of this particularly beneficial trait, she also read people for what they were. Not much got past the Queen of Orret, and so she dared to let herself believe that what she saw was, indeed, true.

Obi-Wan was nervous.

“Lead the way, Master,” she smiled, swallowing her chuckle when she noticed the shade of pink dusting over his cheeks as he led her out of the room.

The corridor was long and dimly lit, the evening sun casting a golden hue across the walls and floors, and though her shoes were the only noise for the beginning of their walk, Viarruh had started to settle into herself; muscles relaxing and mind easing as she felt the warmth of the man next to her. They were not touching, not even close enough to brush arms, but she still felt him. For a moment she wondered if this would only make her miss him more when he was no longer around her, but a small voice in the back of her mind told her she was a fool to think it wouldn’t.

“Your Majesty?”

Her heart still skipped a beat when his accent rang in her ears, but she was no longer fighting for breath and composure. He was comfortable to be around, she had decided.

“Oh, please, Viarruh is fine,” she assured, smiling at him in an attempt to prove to him that it really was fine.

He hesitated for a moment, but not a second later did he nod his head before flicking his eyes over to meet hers. “Viarruh,” he corrected, and oh, Maker, her name had never sounded so pretty. “May I ask you something about your visions? I know you are to speak with the Council about them, but I was wondering if you could tell me when they started?”

“Uhm,” she stalled, remembering back to the first vision she ever had.

She had just settled down in the plush and intricate chair sat at her desk, fully intending to complete some work in the late hours of the night, for something had been nagging her though she could not figure it out. It had kept her awake when she laid down to sleep, and so she had eventually wandered her way around the castle and ended up in her office. But as she reached for the holopad she felt…funny. A feeling washed over her, starting at the crown of her head and showering down to the tips of her toes, and it had happened so fast she hadn’t had any time to react before breath stuck to the back of her throat and eyes glowed bright like the sun that hung in the sky. Her lips were parted but only quiet choking sounds escaped her as her head fell backwards, face pointed to the high ceiling but she was not really looking.

No, her mind was taken over and it was like she wasn’t even in her office anymore. Instead, she was on Coruscant, stood in the darkened bedroom of her best friend. She could not move, she could not speak, only watch as insect-like creatures crawled towards Padme’s sleeping figure. Could only watch as two Jedi burst into the room, blue blade illuminating the darkness as one of them cut the creatures in half.

It ended there, whatever it was that had happened to her. Her eyes slammed shut before snapping open, air rushing into her lungs as she gasped, almost falling forward onto the desk in front of her. With a heaving chest she did her best to push herself up from her seat on shaky arms before she dashed out of the room. Bare feet carried her to the meeting room where she punched in Padme’s comm code, and she anxiously waited for her face to appear in blue, but cried out in frustration when there was no answer.

Worry prickled at every nerve and dread had settled in her feet, making it hard to even move her legs as she rushed to the only room she could think of; Ellman’s. She couldn’t move fast enough, tripping on the ends of her sleep gown numerous times, and she practically flew into his door. She was gasping, mind racing over every possibility as her fists bangs on the door, and she didn’t know how she was still standing by the time the man answered the door.

His eyes were squinted as he tried to make out who was in front of him, and in her frenzy Viarruh almost yelled at him, but there was no time to raise her voice as words spilled out with no end. They were frantic and jumbled together, and it was the alarm bells it set off in his mind that fully awoke him. “Viarruh? Viarruh! What is it?”

His questions fell on deaf ears, and strong hands tightly grasped her shoulders. “Viarruh, calm down! I need you to breathe!” He shook her a few good times, successfully putting an end to the stream of panic falling from the woman’s lips. Her eyes were wide as they finally focused on him, and she was slightly trembling in his hold.

It was a rarity for the queen to get so startled, handling her nerves well on any other day despite the horrors of her childhood, but that was not the case on this particular night. “Vi, what happened?”

“It’s Padme, I—I saw something and when I commed her, she didn’t answer, and—”

“Slow down,” he urged. “What do you mean you saw something?”

“I was in my office, and s—something happened, it was,” she stuttered, shaking her head as she struggled for words. “Do you remember when I told you I had a weird feeling earlier today? I couldn’t sleep, so I went to my office.”

“Was someone in there with you?” He interjected, but she shook her head again.

“No, no, it was just me; but I did see something. It was like…like a vision. I got this funny feeling and then I couldn’t breathe, it was like I was choking on nothing and then I couldn’t see.” Her hands fisted the front of his shirt, words speeding up again the more she spoke.

“You couldn’t see, but you saw something?”

“I’m being serious! It was like—like a vision! I was staring at the ceiling and then something happened to me and it was all gone, all I could see was the vision and I saw Padme!”

Viarruh did not catch on in the moment, perceptiveness dialed down in her vulnerable state, but Ellman seemed to be paying more attention now that she had revealed what she had experienced. His brows were furrowed as her words bounced around in his head, thoughts zooming this way and that as he thought back to when he was working for her mother, and all the things he’d witnessed her do and he remembered visions being one of them.

“What happened to her in this vision?” His voice was low and as serious as could be, no longer high pitched in worry, and in the darkness of the corridor his face was almost grave.

��There was something in her room, and it was crawling towards her while she slept and then two Jedi burst into the room! I tried to comm her when it ended but she didn’t answer, and that only makes me think something bad really did happen to her! Ellman, what if she’s in trouble? What’s happening?”

“Listen, listen,” he soothed, taking a half step closer. “This is because of your powers. Your mother had visions, but I can only imagine how frightening it was when so unexpected.”

“My mom had them?” she mumbled, wide eyes staring up at the closest thing to a parent she had.

“She did. I don’t know much, unfortunately, but I do know that this was going to happen eventually; you’re far too perceptive and just plain lucky to have it skip you. What it is, well, to my understanding it could be a number of things. The past, things that have already happened revealed to you; the present, seeing things as they happen in real life; and the future, though that is never a certainty. Things change, but you can see these things. Now, what you saw with Padme could be any of those things, I’m afraid I have no answers to give with that, but we will investigate more in the morning. More people are likely to answer our calls, and we will be of sound minds,” he assured, one hand coming up to smooth over the back of her head. “Please, My Lady, let me escort you back to bed.”

“With the assassination attempt on Padme’s life. The one you and Anakin were around for,” she answered, keeping it short and sweet.

“You saw it?”

“I did,” she nodded, fingers playing with the fabric of her dress. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he dismissed, looking away from her and she had a creeping suspicion that he was not telling the truth. Nonetheless, she nodded her head before allowing herself a moment to take him in. He wore the plastoid armor similar to that of the clone troopers over the top half of his robes, and his lightsaber hung off his waist, shining and magnificent. He was more handsome than any man she’d ever seen in all her life of travels and meetings, negotiations and balls. Stuffy princes didn’t hold a candle to him.

“I see,” she mused, voice verging on playfulness. It was nice speaking to him, actual conversations instead of snippets of exchanges captured in dreams. “Well, let me ask you, do you ever see things?” She glanced over him, brows raised and lips curling upwards.

Her question settled into Obi-Wan’s mind and debated how truthful he wanted to be with his response. All his time and energy went into the Jedi Order, and fighting this war. He was strong with the force and worked to keep his balance, and he was a clever and impressive General in the GAR; but from time to time he saw her. Not often, not as often as she had visions, it seemed, but when he got the rare moment of rest, he could hear her voice and almost make out her face. When in battle, surrounded by blaster fire and chaos, he sometimes felt her presence next to him, swearing he saw her and a warm glow in his peripheral, yet when he risked a glance she was nowhere to be seen. It had started when he overheard her speaking to Padme the morning after the attempt on the senator’s life, voice slightly distorted over the holocall but still ringing pleasantly in his ears.

But was this something he wanted to admit to? Something he wanted to reveal in the corridor of a Temple that frowned upon attachments? But to lie to her, the thought of it made his stomach churn for some reason.

“Yes, I suppose I do,” he settled, voice almost far away. Viarruh tilted her head slightly, contemplating the thoughts behind his eyes before he cleared his throat, seeming to come back to her. “The Force works in mysterious ways,” he nodded, grinning when the woman chuckled.

“That, I can understand. Perhaps you see with more than eyes, just as I do, Master Kenobi.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, looking straight ahead as he prepared himself for his next comment. “Though I don’t think there is anyone quite like you out there.”

Obi-Wan, while pleasant to be around, was becoming almost flirty. His voice was smooth and his accent curled his words nicely, as sweet as honey. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she could not stop it, could not prevent a full on, toothy smile growing on her face. The doors to the council room were in sight, just up ahead, and she looked as unserious as she could possibly be.

“I think you’re right,” she whispered, turning to face him when they were only a few feet before the doors. “But the same could be said about you.” She cleared her throat, wiggling her arms a little to reset, now looking at her companion with determination. “Wish me luck, I’ve got to speak with the Jedi Council.”

“Now that you mention it, I have a meeting to attend. Good luck, Your Majesty.”

With that, the doors slid open and Viarruh made her way inside the large room once again, the presence of Obi-Wan Kenobi following her. When she reached the middle of the circle, he passed her and settled into his seat, and the added distance between them lessened the ease she had previously felt. Nerves began to settle into her again, as even Obi-Wan’s demeanor changed to that of a more stoic man, a Jedi wise beyond his years sitting amongst the council.

“Your Majesty, we’d like to thank you again for coming to us to speak,” the bald man sat next to Master Yoda began, voice just as serious as it was before. It was difficult to read him as he spoke and she found little comfort in the way his face remained stoney. “The information you presented to us is much appreciated, and has caused lots of discussion within the Council. If you don’t mind, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Of course, I don’t mind at all, Master…?”

“Windu, Your Majesty,” he answered, bowing his head.

“Master Windu,” she repeated, nodding her head at him with a small smile. “Ask away.”

“What is your goal?”

Vague. A broad question asked simply and to the point, and it caused the woman to tilt her head ever so slightly. “My goal?”

“Yes. What is your goal in all of this?”

“Well,” she sighed. “Short term, I suppose it’s to convince you all to help me do what I can to join the war,” she gestured vaguely with one arm, holding the other out as she spoke again. “Long term, to do what’s right. To make a difference. To help people. Is that not everyone in this room's goal?”

“We are bound by oath,” came the voice of Master Mundi, interjecting and almost cold. “We are warriors of peace and fight to bring balance back to the galaxy, per our oath to the Jedi Order.”

“I am also bound by oath,” she countered lowly. “I was born into a position of power. I’ve held it all my life, and when I was just fourteen standard years old I obtained the highest rank you could possibly get on most planets. The responsibility may not be the same as yours, but it is a great one nonetheless; to keep people safe, to represent them, to protect them, that is what I do. And the oath I made was to always do what is right, what I need to do regardless of whether it is easy or not, whether it makes sense or not. And the Clone Wars are hurting people, and the Republic’s enemy stands for things that I would rather die fighting than let become the status quo in our galaxy. We may live different lives, Master Mundi, but our goals are very much the same.”

“You are very dedicated to this,” a male Nautolan observed, and all eyes turned to him. “It’s easy to see that this means something to you. I believe you when you say that our goals are the same, but this is still a very unusual situation, Your Majesty,” he explained, frowning slightly towards the end of his sentence.

“It is, I know that,” Viarruh assured sincerely. “But as unusual as it is for you, it is the same for me.”

“Your visions, hear more about them, may we?” Yoda questioned, pointing a clawed finger in her direction.

“What would you like to know?”

“Are they of the future?” Someone else questioned.

“Not entirely,” she answered, shaking her head. “My understanding is that they are things revealed to me because they need to be. It could be something from the past, I can see things as they are happening, and sometimes I do see the future, but you all know as well as I do that the future is never set in stone. Prophecies and destinies aside, seeing a vision of something that should happen doesn’t always mean it will happen.”

“What is the extent of your powers? What can you do, exactly?”

“I can do lots of things,” she chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. “But I already told you that they’re still developing, I still don’t know what the extent is.”

“I saw a demonstration of Her Majesty’s abilities in the sparring room, and it was most impressive,” a familiar voice entered the conversation, backing her up as she stood under the eyes of the disbelieving. Her chest warmed as she caught his eye before they flicked to the next person to speak.

“Sparring room?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan answered smugly. “Her Majesty sparred with Anakin, and held her own for quite some time. I could only imagine what she would be like with just some formal training.”

Murmurs filled the room, soft and blended together, but she gathered that Anakin being her opponent was the hot topic. “Impressive, that is,” Yoda confirmed. “Needed, a demonstration is, perhaps.”

“I can give you a demonstration,” she promised, hand already coming up to point at the copper haired Jedi. Her palm faced upward, slender fingers curling slightly as she made miniscule movements. At first, no one was aware of what was happening, Obi-Wan being most confused of all, but then he felt a little tug at his belt. He looked down to see his lightsaber moving here and there, before it eventually lifted off his thigh and unhooked from his waist.

His mouth opened in shock, and he didn’t need to look to know he was not the only one, as they all watched his lightsaber float through the air, right into the hand of Viarruh Finnall. She ignited the weapon, blue blade shooting out from the hilt and bathing her in the cool hue. And because she lived for the dramatics, she twirled it around, a move that was like muscle memory to her, the whirring sounds of the energy blade filling the room. When she finished, she retracted the blade and her hand fell to her side.

“While I did lose my fight with Anakin Skywalker, I have won many more. I am not helpless, and I do not give up easily.” Her eyes bore into the council members one by one. “And I am not afraid, I was not built to be and cannot afford to be.” She continued to spin around, intending to make an impression on every person she looked at, and she knew it was successful from the look in each of their eyes. “Sometimes it is not enough to just be against darkness. If you have the ability to, should you not use the light?”

The severity of her tone and words had lodged itself in the chest’s of the Jedi Council, and before them stood not the naive queen they thought was coming to their planet. No, stood before them was Viarruh Finnall, Goddess of the Sun, the Sun Witch, Queen of Orret, in all her wisdom and confidence. She was passionate and unyielding, she was caring, and she was strong. This young woman, whatever she had gone through in her lifetime had made her tough enough to bear the weight of leadership, to dive head first into a war that she was never obligated to join, to look an evil in the face and stand steady against it.

“If we were to say yes,” Master Windu broke the silence, sharing glances with those around him. “What would be your next course of action?”

It took her a moment to calm herself, dispelling some of the intensity in her words as she turned to look at the man. “Well, should you say yes, I would need to speak with Chancellor Palpatine next. I chose to meet with you first because, although the Chancellor makes the final decisions, having you all to back me up would speak louder to him than I ever could on my own. You, of course, are not obligated to, but it would be most appreciated if I had someone to accompany me to speak with him; and depending on his answer, I will head home,” she explained with a note of finality, clasping her hands in front of her.

“Home?” Master Mundi interjected, leaning forward in his seat.

“Yes,” she answered simply, looking right at him.

“And what do you plan to do about your status as Queen while you fight in this war? You cannot do both.”

“I would give it up.” She stated, in such a way that it seemed the answer was obvious. It did not weigh heavy on her tongue as she spoke matter of factly, though it did put pressure on her chest, bones feeling as if they could cave in. “My birthday is in a matter of weeks, and though it may seem frivolous, celebrations are quite the talk back home,” she explained, flicking some hair over her shoulder as she resumed her movements around the center of the room. “I will use it as my opportunity to announce my retirement from the throne, and present who I have chosen to replace me; her coronation will come only days after. Then,” she shrugged. “I’ll go wherever you tell me to, and I’ll do whatever I can.”

It seemed, for a frightening moment, that she was unable to get through to them. They all stared at her, mouths closed with no intention of opening to speak to her, and her shoulders grew heavy, fighting to slouch forward as the feeling of defeat tickled at her bones. She held her breath, eyes flickering between the men in front of her. Obi-Wan held contact before he looked away, seemingly speaking to Master Yoda without using words, and she clutched the hilt of his lightsaber a little tighter, the metal warm from her hold on it throughout her speech.

As she glanced towards Master Plo, a frown almost dipping the corner of her lips downwards, she missed the nod Obi-Wan sent his elder, and the one following from Mace Windu. Her attention snapped back as a throat was cleared, and eyes had returned to her, though the tone had shifted ever so slightly. Almost indiscernible, it was, but she saw it and dared to let hope bloom in her chest.

“Speak to the Chancellor, we will. Tomorrow,” Master Yoda decided, sliding down from his chair, beginning to make his way towards the woman. “To your home, I will go with you. Train you, I will.” When he stood before her, large eyes gazing into hers, he placed one hand over the other on top of his staff as it stood in front of him and he was the picture of wisdom.

For a moment, she did not have any words. She had said so much since she’d arrived at the Jedi Temple, but now that she finally had an answer from them, she had nothing to offer the Council. She was frozen in her stare with the green Jedi, lips parting ever so slightly as his words rang in her ears. “Thank you,” she breathed, relief making her feel so light it almost lifted her off the ground below. She blinked a few times, gathering her bearings as reality began to set in that she had done it.

“Easy, it will not be, Viarruh Finnall,” he promised, shaking his head.

“The things worth doing usually aren’t, Master,” she replied, when the hole burning into her became too much and she looked up, meeting blue eyes already looking. Obi-Wan smiled at her, blowing his head in a silent congratulations, and she smiled. It was similar to the one he had managed to get from her in the corridor, and her success coupled with just knowing him now made it impossible to stop it.

Master Windu was the next to rise, the others following suit, and the tall man joined them in the middle of the room. “When we speak to the Chancellor tomorrow, you will have our full support. All we ask in return, is that you follow through with your word,” he explained, holding his hand out for her to shake.

When her hand slipped into his, enveloped by the gloved and armored one, a familiar feeling washed over her quicker than ever, and she gasped loudly, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. Obi-Wan pushed his way to the front, almost overwhelmed from how loud everyone’s voices were once they blended together in panic, before standing beside the woman but she was not seeing him. Her muscles tensed and her back straightened as she went rigid, fingers clamping around Windu’s hand tightly, and he attempted to pull away in alarm; it was a struggle, but he was eventually able to pry himself out of her hold as her eyes glowed brightly. Her brows were furrowed and breath was stuck in her throat and she looked almost pained, and it made Obi-wan’s heart clench in his chest. It alarmed him, how seeing her like this affected him, but there was no time to think about it as his hands grasped her shoulders.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” he called, shaking her slightly but she remained frozen, golden eyes staring past him. Even when he grasped her face in his large hands because the choking sounds escaping her as air tried to fight its way to her lungs were scaring him more, she didn’t see him. His thumbs pressed into her cheeks as he turned her head to face him, almost yelling at her. “Viarruh! Breathe!”

When this very thing happened at home, no one could get through to the woman after her eyes lit up and she stopped breathing; screams and yells falling on deaf ears as her mind was taken over, but as she watched herself creep through the forest with a squad of clones and Mace Windu at her side, a voice echoed from somewhere. Who it belonged to, she could not tell, but it was comforting in its familiarity and lifted the pressure from her chest; everything became clearer as if a layer of dirt and grime had been wiped away, the plastoid armor glinting in the sunlight of the trooper who passed her. Outside of the vision, the blockage was removed from her throat, ripped away as oxygen rushed into her, and light burst out of her.

It was as if they were no longer in the council room, the group of people huddled together now standing in the same forest of her vision. She did not know they were there, could not feel them still, but they saw everything she did as it projected from her. They watched as everyone trekked on, the only sounds being the crunching and rustling of foliage and the sounds of wildlife in the distance; as Viarruh faltered in her step, causing the soldier behind her to bump into her, pushing her forward a few steps. Though, it looked as if she had paid it no mind, instead holding her hands out as if to steady herself, eyes flickering around before landing on the Jedi ahead of her.

And they could only stare as Windu continued on, having not noticed the absence to his left, and Viarruh lurched forward to reach him quicker. “Mace, no!” she yelled, grasping his shoulder to throw his body backwards, pushing him and their squad away from the pressure bomb cleverly disguised; but that also meant she was the closest to the explosion. The onlookers flinched as they were surrounded by heat and light and the deafening blow, watching in horror as the queen flew through the air, rolling backwards when she collided with the ground. She didn’t move much after her body settled, but Obi-Wan could see the way her eyes were blown wide, not seeming to focus on anything as she blinked. She didn’t respond to the calls of her name, not even noticing the people slowly searching for her, the ringing in her ears blocking out everything around her.

It was Windu who found her, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes as he walked up to her. “Viarruh,” he called, and it wasn’t until he saw movement to the side, and turned to see her leg poking through the tall grass. When he stood over her, he cringed slightly at the injuries he could see, and so did everyone else. Blood covered her face, dripping down from her hairline and smearing across her cheeks; parts of her shirt and vest were singed, still smoking, telling them she had burns as well. “Viarruh,” he tried again, and she only looked at him with wide eyes, giving him no indication that she heard him. He reached down with both hands, placing a couple fingers on her cheeks to move her head side to side, inspecting for anything else, and Obi-Wan was relieved to see nothing.

“Come on,” Windu grunted, picking her up and placing her on her feet, slinging an arm over his shoulder as he supported most of her weight. Then, the scene shifted, the same light as before filling the room before it all zapped into Viarruh, hitting her with a force strong enough to push her back a few steps when it collided with her chest, causing her to gasp loudly. Hands reached out to keep her upright, holding her steady on her feet as her eyes snapped shut before reopening, back to normal.

She was panting, gulping air down like she had been drowning, and the first thing she heard when she returned to the present was the worried voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi, his hands on her arms, having been the one to reach out to catch her. “Viarruh, are you alright?”

“That one was different,” she responded, shaking her head as her mind ran a mile a minute.

“Was that a vision?” Windu questioned, leaning closer to the woman.

“Yes,” she nodded, eyes finally raising to meet those of the man that still cradled her. “But it was different, this one wasn’t the same as others.”

“Viarruh,” Obi-Wan called softly. “What do you mean by ‘it was different’?”

“Stronger, it was stronger,” she answered as the group of Jedi began to back away from her, giving her space now that she was back with them. “And I…could hear someone.” It confused her, left her wondering, because she had never heard anyone in her visions like that, never felt anything but alone as she lost control of herself.

“We didn’t hear anyone,” Mundi noted, looking around at the others. “Other than yourself and Master Windu.”

“Wait,” she jerked around, confusion growing more and more by the second. “Did you…did you all see that too?” She was met with nods from everyone, and she could only stand there in a stunned silence as her thoughts ran a mile a minute.

“Viarruh?” Obi-Wan questioned softly after there was still no response from the queen, and turned back around to face him.

“It…projected?” Her face was still twisted in disbelief, the events taking place sprouting question after question in her mind. The man nodded his head to answer her, raising his brows at her tone.

“Is that also newly unlocked?”

She had again looked away from him, eyes staring down at the floor as the dots began to connect, as the answers became clearer. “Yes,” she answered in a dazed voice. “It is.” It was the only reaction she could give him as realization dawned on her, showering over her as her gaze shifted upwards; it focused on the busy planet on the other side of the large windows, the sky turning a pleasant rosy orange as the day settled and plans were now in motion.

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