#was this inspired by me breaking out my old lightsaber to see if I could use it to learn the Harrington Bat Twirl? ...... maybe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

certifiedskywalker · 4 years ago

Text

Breaking Oaths and Following Orders - Din Djarin

thebounty said: Hey!! I was wondering if I could ask for a request for a Mandalorian x Jedi!reader? It’s inspired by this song (Jenny- Studio Killers) which is basically about friends turned into lovers.

AN: Ah, yes, the TikTok song...I hope I did your idea justice! (I cut the rest of your request out on this official post because I didn’t want to totally spoil what happens!)

You were familiar with the carbon stink of blaster bolts and the excited tension of battle. Limited stints in combat during the Clone Wars, when you were barely old enough to be a padawan, had introduced you to the harsh adrenaline and smells of war. A gunfight in some alley on some Outer Rim world was nothing compared to what you had seen. Though, now, you knew all of what was at stake; you loved all that was at stake.

“I don’t think they’re Jedi,” Din observed as he ducked down behind the thick stone wall you were using as cover. You shot the helmeted man an incredulous look.

“Really? What gave you that idea? The fact they’re not using laser swords or that they’re shooting at us?” Din didn’t respond to your sarcasm and instead popped up above the wall to let a few bolts fly. Based on the yelps of pain, they hit their marks.

“We need to get out of here,” he said once he ducked back down. You nodded and glanced at the Child, still tucked away in his cradle. His big eyes were glued to you, as they often were in the heat of battle. Expectant, waiting for you to make your, the, move.

“Yeah, we do,” you agreed, before you pressed the button on the Child’s cradle that closed the little creature within. The last thing you wanted was more pressure.

“They have us pinned,” Din said and tipped his head back towards the wall behind you. “And there’s at least five,” the Mandalorian popped up from behind the wall again and nearly missed a blaster bolt to the head, “six up front.”

“Can’t you jet us out of here?”

Wordlessly, Din reached around to his back and rapped his gloved knuckles against the fuel tank of his jet pack. An empty, metallic clang echoed the knocking of his hand. No fuel.

“Karabast,” you cursed as you turned your attention to the enemies firing luring shots at the relative safety of the wall. There were too many. A step beyond the stone would mean certain death. So did staying put. Direness set in, loomed like a storm cloud in your mind. You glanced back at Din and the Child’s cradle only to have a lump form in your throat.

As if on cue, the cradle covers opened and revealed the watchful eyes of the Child. He was still focused on you. As you took a moment to study him in return, you neither heard a coo of worry nor did you see flinch of fear. He was calm, eerily so; as if he knew what you were thinking, what you knew you had to do. You moved your gaze to Din and watched as he let a few shots go towards your attackers. A stray blaster bolt from the enemy knocked against the beskar plate on his chest, right above his heart. Too close to where his armor ended and his clothing began. Too close for comfort. You couldn't lose him.

Adrenaline, pure and vile rushed through you. Before you could move against your instincts, your hand reached out and pulled Din back down behind the stone wall. The dark visor of his helmet met your gaze. You could feel the question on his lips, despite having never seen them. You had spent enough time imagining them; how they looked and how they might feel against your own.

“Grab the kid and run on my word,” you said with a tone of seriousness to break yourself from your wonderings. “Got it?”

Din was still for a moment and you realized that your hand lingered on his arm. Warmth spread through your fingers, up your arm, and to your face. Quickly, you let go, and the Mandalorian seemed to have recovered. He nodded wordlessly and reached out towards the cradle. When the pod was tucked under his arm, you moved to face the stone wall you all were hidden behind.

“What are you planning, Y/N?”

Din’s tone was cold, laced with concern. After all the cycles you and the man had worked and lived together, you had noticed he only said your name when you were about to do something dangerous. You had wished he said it more, in different contexts, like one of affection. Though, you had reasoned long ago that Din’s concern was his affection. Like the Jedi, it seemed that Mandalorian of Din’s Creed forewent too-personal, entangling attachments. It was the first principle of the Code that you had wished you had broken long ago. In a sense, you had. The care you held, the love, for Din and the Child...you were a Jedi no longer.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t pretend.

“You can ask me questions later.”

Before Din could attempt to stop you, you reached down to each of your hips and pulled the two metal, somewhat cylindrical pieces of your lightsaber from your belt. In a practiced motion, you latched the two segments together and pressed the ignite switch. As soon as the blade ignited, you focused your mind on the small, stone wall that sheltered you. Once you pictured it clear in your mind, you threw your hands up and pushed forward. When you opened your eyes, the stone wall hurtled towards your attackers and drove some down into the dirt. You glanced at Din.

“Now!”

At your word, Din rushed towards the now dwindling group of criminals that had been shooting at you. Due to the laser sword in your hands, most of their fire was focused on you. With an ease that surprised you, you twirled your saber in the air and deflected the shots. Most landed in the chests of those had taken aim, giving each a swift death. You gave an extra flourish to redirect a blaster bolt towards one of the attackers that was more interested in Din and cradle.

The man fell quickly and a surge of confidence rushed through you. You still had it, even after all this time of hiding! Only a few criminals remained and you drew closer and closer. As you moved, their aim grew more and more precise. One even dared to charge at you. With you busied dispatching him, another shot off his rifle. White-hot and searing hurt ripped through your lower leg, then your shoulder. A yelp of pain escaped your lips. Overcome by heated rage and long ago lessons forgotten, you tilted forward and struck him down.

Then there was silence. Only your haggard breath filled your ears. The pain in your leg and shoulder overwhelmed your senses. It had been a long time since you had taken a hit. An even longer time since you had used the weapon of your dead Master.

You fell to your knees, tried to focus on forcing your breathing steady. When you hit the ground, your thumb instinctively struck the power switch. With a hiss, the blade closed and you found enough strength to lift your gaze. Your eyes locked with Din’s darkened visor.

“Y/N.”

There was that concern again. It was the last thing you heard before you fell back, let your body rest against the dirt of the alleyway and splatters of blood.

You woke with a start. The wild beating of your heart propelled you, so you sat up straight in the sleeping nook. Your head nearly slammed against the ceiling. When you recognized the interior of the Razor Crest, you allowed yourself to catch your breath.

“Hey, hey, hey” Din appeared in the entrance of the sleeping nook with his hands raised towards you. He looked as if he were approaching a wounded animal. “You’re safe. You’re home.”

You nodded but your head did not clear. On your skin still clung the stink of the alley, the carbon of blaster fire, and, against your hand, you felt the cold hilt of the lightsaber. The moment your eyes landed on the weapon, you felt your breath get caught in your throat once more. Memories of the fight rushed back and your heart still thundered in your chest. You focused on Din’s helmet, studied his now straightened posture, and swallowed hard.

“The Child, is he-”

“He’s fine,” Din replied before the question could leave your lips. You shook your head.

“No, did he see...did he see me?”

“It was hard not to see you,” Din said softly.

Tension filled the silence that trailed after his words. It was heavier than the pressure of battle. Din always had a way of making it difficult for you to breath. But this was like trying to wade through the muck of a full trash compactor. The air between you was thick, weighed down by everything you both wanted to say to the other.

You shifted in the sleeping nook in an effort to find a more comfortable position. As you moved, your shoulder knocked against the wall and you hissed in pain. Din lurched forwards and towards you. You felt heated skin against your arms and, when you looked down, you found that he had not donned his signature gloves.

“Here. I’ll help you step out.”

Din was careful as he eased you out of the sleeping nook while you tired not to be lost in tender touch of his bare hands against your skin. A wave of affection washed over you when you noted the bandages on your lower leg and shoulder. He had taken his gloves off to take care of you. You wished you could have been conscious to remember it.

“Thanks,” you said once you were on your feet.

Though, Din didn’t let go. Instead, he helped you over to the crates you both used as makeshift seats during meal time. Only when you were both sat down did his hands slip from your arms. The silence seemed to have followed you both over as it settles back between you.

Your mind swirled with worry and doubt, every word you wanted to say. Betrayal was the word that came back most often. You had betrayed the year of trust you had built with Din by not telling him about your past. You had betrayed the Child by not using the Force to forge a deeper connection with him or hear his story. You had betrayed yourself, the oath you swore long ago to never use the teachings of the Jedi. The thought made your stomach twist.

“Is it yours?”

Din’s question broke you from your down spiral. You met the dark gaze of his visor and shook your head. “No. It’s my old Master’s. I lost mine in battle and took his when he…fell.”

“Master? So, you’re a Jedi?”

“No, I never finished the Tri-”

“You can’t do that.” You cocked your head at his interruption. “You can’t keep saying ‘no’ and then give a reason that implies ‘yes’. Are you or are you not a Jedi?”

You swallowed hard, the truth, as Din knew it, balanced on the tip of your tongue. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” There was an edge of anger in his voice but as heated as you had expected. “Why didn’t you tell me when we were sent to look for Jedi, for him?”

“Like I was saying, I didn’t finished my training or the Trials. I don’t know the mysteries the Council kept hidden or where any others are.” Din stood up at your reasoning and stared down at you. Even masked behind the helmet, you still felt the intensity of his eyes on you.

“You should have told me.” He said, the heat a little higher in his voice. “Do you not trust me enough to keep you safe?”

Stoked by the flames of his voice, you stood from your seat. Din’s visor remained trained on you, waiting for your next move. There was only a step’s worth of space between you now and it was either the close proximity or the pain of your wounds that made your face flush. You weren’t entirely sure as to which but you did know your own truth.

“No, I trust you, Din, with my life,” his name left your lips without a thought. Between thoughts, you realized it was the first time you said his name aloud after learning on Nevarro; but you couldn’t stop now. “The Jedi’s way is old, just as old as the Mandalore, and we have our customs. Following orders is one of them and I was given an order to stay quiet, to stay hidden. I will not apologize for following that order, even if I am a Jedi no longer.”

All of the sudden, the fight and anger left you. You thought of your Master, how he would be disappointed in your outburst. Overwhelmed by the feeling, you sat back down on your crate while Din stayed standing. Heavy, you head fell into your hands. In the dark behind your eyelids, you found little solace or comfort.

Just as you were about to admit defeat and retire back to the sleeping nook, hands gripped your wrists. Gently, Din pulled your hands away from your face and, in response, you looked into his visor. For a moment, you swore that you could see his eyes shining beneath his helmet, his own order and oath manifested in beskar. Before you could ask what he was doing, his hands fell from your wrists and tucked up under the bottom of his helmet.

“Din,” you said, the same concern that swaddled your name in his voice now held his own. “Don’t do this, not like this.”

“I trust you, Y/N, with my life.” His words echoed your own only softer and you were too caught off guard by that tenderness to try to stop his hands as they pushed up.

You saw the first slivers of tanned skin. Then a scruff covered chin and slope of his jawline. Lips were next on the tour of Din’s features; the very lips you had tried to imagine hundreds of times before. They were pinker than you thought, a little chapped too, but you still longed for them. Then the tip and bridge of his curved nose. A pair of dark brown eyes.

You held Din’s eyes with yours as he finished removing the helmet. He set it on the floor of the Razor Crest with a dull thud, his eyes never leaving yours. Strands of brown hair were set against his forehead, tantalizing enough for you to touch. You fought the urge so you could take in his features a little longer. Despite knowing, based on his voice, that Din was handsome, it was another thing to see it confirmed.

Unable to hold back anymore, you reached a careful hand out. Din recoiled, flinched away from your reach and you pulled back. Just as you were about to apologize, Din recovered and lifted his own hand. Warm, he guided your hand with his until your fingertips brushed against his temple. When he let go of your wrist, you brushed the hair off from his forehead.

At your touch, Din sucked in a shakey, sharp breath. Scared for a moment that he wouldn’t exhale, you traced your hand down from his forehead to the side of his face. Once you had cupped his cheek, Din closed his eyes and let the breath go. His head tilted, leaned into your touch.

“We’re both oath breakers now, huh?”

Din’s eyes opened at your question. Dark and knowing, his eyes met yours before they flickered down to your lips. You trailed your hand along his jaw until you held his chin between two of your fingers. His breath hitched at the suggestive touch.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” you murmured, the pain of your wounds long forgotten. “Din?”

Wordlessly, from where he kneeled before, Din rushed up and towards you. Messily, his lips found yours and his hands gripped at your waist. Quickly, he pulled you against his chest where the cold kiss of beskar greeted your skin. Not that you minded. You were too caught up in Din’s lips against yours, how you had waited a year for this. You weren’t about to let that go.

Not for any order.

494 notes · View notes

dracowars · 4 years ago

Text

hold on | poe dameron

pairing: poe x reader

word count: 1,9k

summary: where poe has to hold on to y/n for dear life

a/n: this is inspired by that one scene in Mulan II (if you know, you know)

warnings: angst, character death, mentions of blood

universe: star wars

It was in that one moment, in that one tiny second, that you were careless. You were not paying enough attention. You have felt safe, a false sense of security. And suddenly the plans with important secret information about the First Order and its troops, that you worked hard for to earn, were snatched away from you.

Leia had entrusted the four of you - Rey, Finn, Poe, and you - with this very important mission and sent you to Vandor to meet up with a spy in the ranks of the First Order who captured said plans. With these plans you could have foreseen their next steps and be prepared for them. You would have had a chance, but now that the plans are gone, the hopelessness keeps increasing.

After you went to Vandor and reached your destination, you were badly surprised on your way back to the base and had to make an emergency landing on Pasaana, a heavily populated desert planet. You immediately thought that something was not right, that something was suspicious since the Millennium Flacon was carefully checked on the basis of the Resistance beforehand and showed no signs of any damages or problems. You should have guessed that the First Order was behind this, chasing you down until they got their precious plans back. And unfortunately, that is exactly what they now succeeded in doing.

Pasaana is known for its colorful festivals and marketplaces and while you were looking for spare parts to repair the Falcon with, you were distracted. You were not paying attention, got distracted, and suddenly the plans were gone, stolen by a creature you would classify as a bounty hunter based on its appearance. They were shrewd and cunning and had probably worked out their deed diligently. One of them distracted you all, talked to you, got you involved in a conversation and offered you all sorts of things, just like a real trader. What none of you noticed, however, was how his companion sneaked up on you from behind and stole your bag with the plans.

The two of them ran away immediately and you followed them as quickly as possible. While doing so, you also drew the attention of a few patrols consisting of stormtroopers of the First Order on you, who are making the pursuit even more difficult now. Rey fends off their shots with her blue lightsaber, Finn shoots his blaster at your chasers in the middle of running, while Poe and you are closely following behind the bounty hunters.

The sand under your feet makes it strenuous for you to move forward quickly, but not only you are affected by it. The bounty hunters as well as the stormtroopers are struggling with it too and since you ran out of the actual city by now, you find yourself completely surrounded by sand.

However, you do not let it stop you and continue to pursue them in the hope of regaining the important plans with the information, not dooming your mission. Poe tries to hit them with his own blaster shots repeatedly, but terribly fails. In return for his attack, you are met with a small ball flying straight towards you; a bomb.

Within seconds, Poe throws himself protectively at you, pulling you to the side and away from the source of danger, ending up in the soft sand when the bomb goes off close to you. Poe shields the swirling sand from you with his body, his strong arms blocking your view.

“Are you alright?”, he asks you worried, his arms wrapped tightly around you, scanning his eyes over your face.

“Y-Yes. Thank you”, you stutter out. You have never been this close to him before as you are at this moment right now. His dark curls fall on his forehead, beautifully framing it, his stunning brown eyes look straight into yours. You lose yourself in the moment, wanting to control and stop the time to forever enjoy this moment. Poe, on the other hand, seems to be stunned as well. By you.

He has had these feelings for you for so long already, but he suppressed them. At first, he tried to deny the fact that he fell for you, but seeing you every day, seeing that gorgeous smile on your face that he wants to touch so bad every time, he accepted his feelings at some point, but was still not ready to confess them. How could he? In the midst of a war raging around you, he felt it was inappropriate and not the right time to put his feelings first. But right now, in this moment, he would like nothing more than to confess his love to you. Kiss you right on the spot, cup your face, softly touch you with his fingers, all that he wishes so dearly still seems so far away, even now when he can literally feel your raging heartbeat against his chest.

No longer able to withstand his loving gaze on you, you avert your gaze and Poe watches how your eyes suddenly widen.

“The plans!”, you shout in shock and bring you both back to the bitter reality. Getting up as fast as possible, Poe helping you, you stomp through the deep sand again, following the bounty hunters who have brought a great distance between you in the meantime.

“What are you two even doing!?”, you hear Rey’s voice behind you as she comes running after you both. Apparently, she and Finn successfully eliminated all stormtroopers.

“They are going to escape!”, Finn adds a little angry, the blaster still ready in his hands before another loud shot is suddenly fired.

Several Tie Fighters have now appeared above you, chasing and shooting you. You are abruptly forced to stop in your tracks when one of their fatal shots lands right in front of you, blocking your path with a violent explosion, whirling the sand through the air again.

“This way!”, Poe calls out, takes you by the hand and leads you into a crevice, closely followed by Rey and Finn. “Their footprints lead this way, come on!”

Not hesitating for long, you stay hunched between the rocks, walking more slowly than before with the Tie Fighters over your head, waiting like vultures for their prey. The footprints lead through the rocky landscape until you reach a large, deep cliff.

Right when you reach it, the bounty hunters run over a narrow, unstable suspension bridge that leads over said gorge. Without thinking any further, Poe and you quickly follow them, the loose pieces of wood creaking dangerously under your feet. And on top of all of this, the Tie Fighters reappear, now that there is enough space above you to shoot at you again. A shot fired by Finn, who has stopped on the solid surface in front of the cliff, passes you, heading straight for the bounty hunters, but missing them by only a few inches. One of them aims his weapon directly at Poe and you on the loose bridge, fires a shot as well and actually lands a hit this time. Poe cries out in pain, whimpering, when his blaster is shot out of his hand with great impact, falling into the abyss.

As soon as the two bounty hunters reach the other safe side of the gorge, a disgusting laugh comes from their mouths as they suddenly start to cut the rotten ropes of the hanging bridge. Immediately the bridge begins to sway dangerously under your feet, nearly knocking you over when you try to keep your balance.

“Watch out!”, you hear Rey’s loud scream behind you, the last thing you hear right before one of the Tie Fighters shots fly through the air again, breaking the rope in half and causing you to fall into the deep depths, screaming.

At the very last moment you manage to hold on to a broken old rope, reach out your arm right away to catch Poe as well. His weight pulls hard on your arm, making you cry out in pain briefly, but you grab his hand as tightly as you can, not letting go of him. You hang helplessly in the air over the gorge, which leads several meters down, not even being able to see the ground from up here. A cold breeze floats through the gorge and not only makes you sway, but also the almost completely destroyed suspension bridge above you.

“Poe! Poe, hold on tight, okay? I got this!”, you scream loudly, hoping to give him and also yourself the strength to get through this, but when you look up to where the bridge was a few seconds ago, another part of it breaks and you fall a few meters deeper. Holding on to the one puny rope with your bare physical strength, tears are already stinging your eyes, the situation seeming hopeless. The rope, which now resembles a thin thread, will not be able to hold you for much longer.

“Y/N. It will not hold us both”, Poe states, his shaky voice full of fear and sadness, saying out loud what you thought.

“No, it will hold us both. It will, I know it will!”, you reply with an equal shaky voice, looking down at him and the infinite depth below him. Bloods runs down his arm, caused by the injury on his hand due to the shot, turning his light brown shirt a deep red. Tears well up in your eyes when you notice the helplessness in his eyes. Shortly after your words, the rope starts to tear a little more and your arms turn sorer every second.

“I should have told you this much earlier, Y/N. But I want you to know that, before we die, I truly love you”, Poe confesses out of nowhere, causing the tears to flow down your cheeks, your hand clasping even more around his wrist.

“I love you too, Poe. With all my heart”, you sob and see a gentle smile on Poe’s lips, which disappears again quickly as his whole facial expression changes after his gaze fell on the thread which is the only thing still saving you from death. “We will not die, do you hear me? We will make it out of here!”

“Y/N. I am sorry”, he whispers and suddenly loosens his grip on your hand. Screaming bitterly, you try to grab him, to hold him, but his hand slips away, and Poe falls down into the abyss, margining with the deep black while you can only scream after him.

“NO!”, you cry out loudly, your hand still outstretched, warm and covered in blood where your hands were still touching seconds before. “POE!”

You are about to let go as well, your grip on the rope, that is currently still rescuing you from the same fatal fate as Poe, is already loosening when you suddenly feel how the gravity gets reversed and you begin to float in the air. Slowly, you slide up out of the deep gorge, still holding the rope in your hand, your gaze fixed on the black below you as you get rescued through the Force by Rey. As soon as you feel solid ground under your feet again, you rush back to the dangerous edge, fall on your knees in front of it while tears flow down your cheeks in streams.

With beeping ears and a throbbing heart, you feel how Rey and Finn put their arms around you, how they talk to you and try to comfort you. But nothing could. Nothing in this universe could relieve you from the absolute pain you are in.

You feel nothing but emptiness. A void that is only filled with the unbearable pain of just having lost the love of your life forever.

124 notes · View notes

xmalereader · 4 years ago

Text

The Mandalorian X Dark Fey! Male Reader

—

|| Masterlist ||

After S2 EP 5, I couldn’t help but come up with an idea! After finding out the child’s name and having Ashokas appearance, I couldn’t help myself but write some more Dark fey reader!! Also the inspiration comes from @fanficsforheartandsoul Please read their writing it is amazing and follow them!!

Summary: Din and reader have found the child a teacher, Ashoka, and learn a few new things about the Jedi order. But, Ashoka finds out a bit more about the readers kind and tells him her stories of when she once met a planet full of dark fey, creatures that the reader thought have gone extinct making him think that he is the last of his kind.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, the child being all cute, backstory, Ashoka learning, just more angst.

—

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Said the Fey who walked next to the Mandalorian. The two were walking through the dead forest, jumping over fallen logs and going under trees in order to continue following the path that lead them to the Jedi. Back in town they have met with the Matriarch, a women that was in charge of the town and had offered them a spear of beskar in exchange to take down the Jedi. At first, y/n thought that din was going to refuse the offer, knowing that they needed the Jedi alive due to the child needing a proper teacher. But of course, Din being a Mandalorian, couldn’t refuse the offer. Which lead them to tracking down the jedi thorugh the dead forest.

“I already told you—“ Din turns to face the Fey. “I’m not going to kill her, I’m going to get her attention and make sure that she helps us with the kid. I just need to find her, that’s all.” He repeats. He’s already explained Y/n his plan, telling him that he woulnd’t do anything to hurt the Jedi and to only ask for their help and hand the kid over to them.

Y/n sighs deeply as he gives the child a glimpse, who sat inside the bag that Din had found for the kid. “I know but I can’t help but get a bad feeling about this.” He mumbles out as Din stops in his tracks and removes the kid from the bag, setting him down with a sigh. “Will be fine.” Din tells him and nods towards the kid. “Stay with him, I’m going to check out the area and see if I can find anything.” Y/n nods at the Mandalorian and adjusts his cape, using it to hide his wings from prying eyes. He’s never liked it when others took notice of his wings, they were precious to him and being a Dark fey was risky, he was the last of his kind and he couldn’t allow anyone to know who he was.

The fey can’t help but pout as he stands next to the child and reaches out to stroke one of its long ears. Keeping him distracted with a small smile. Before he could even say anything he hears the sound of sabers and beskar clashing against eachother.

The dark feys eyes widen as he sees the Jedi and Din fighting with each other, stepping in front of the child to protect him he bares his fangs at the Jedi until Din calls out her name. Causing the two to stop fighting with each other. Din Is quick to tell her that they were sent by bo-Katan and how they have searching for her.

The Jedi, known as Ahsoka, gives the couple a look before she eyes the dark fey that stood over the child. She’s quick to drop her guard and puts away her lightsabers. “I hope it’s about him.” She says as din turns around to see y/n glaring at the Jedi, he gives him a small nod as of saying that everything was okay.

Y/n’s wings slowly drop behind him as he too drops his guard and exposes the child to the Jedi. The two approach him as ahsoka smiles a little, “Hello.” She coos out to the child who returns her greeting with a squeak.

—

Y/n watches Din pace back and forth as the Mandalorian eyes the Jedi and the child from a distance. He was becoming nervous and anxious, not knowing what to expect from Ahsoka. The fey was standing by a tree, leaning back against it as he sighs. “Din, stop it.”

“I can’t help it.” Din snaps back at his partner of four years. The two have known each other for awhile now and it wasn’t strange for y/n to see Din acting this way, he knows that he’s grown attached to the kid and how much he loves him. But things change and they were tasked to bring him to a Jedi.

Y/n slowly gets irritated by Dins pacing, he knows that he’s acting like a worried father but he can’t help but get a little annoyed. “Din.” He approaches the Mandalorian and reaches out to touch his hand, finally getting Dins attention as he stops pacing.

“It’s going to be okay, whatever Ahsoka is doing she’ll tell us.” He whispers to Din, hearing the other sigh deeply as he looks away. Y/n grows upset as he gently places a hand on one side of the helmet and pulls him back to face him. Without saying a word he leans forward to press their foreheads together. A small tradition that both mandalorians and Dark fey have in common. “It’s okay.” He croaks out this time as Din relaxes under his touch and nods.

As the two pull away, they don’t notice Ahsoka approaching them with the child in her arms. She gives the two a small smile as she sets the lamp down between them and the child in a rock. She sits next to him and sighs.

Din is the first to break the silence. “Can you—Can you understand him?” He asks.

Ahsoka sits up straight and nods. “In a way,” she turns to face the child. “Grogu and I can communicate through the force, giving us the ability to speak with eachother.”

“Grogu?” Both Din and y/n say.

The sudden name call causes the child to perk up, looking over at his parents as he coos out.

Y/n noticed the kids reaction and smirks. “Grogu.” He repeats and again the child’s ears perk up and his eyes widen with joy.

Ahsoka watches the Dark fey kneel down at the child’s level and stroke his long ears as Din sits across from her. She takes this time to explain to him about Grogu; where he’s from and how the Jedi order had fallen during the clone wars. She also tells him about the previous master that was the same species as Grogu that she once knew. Once she’s done explaining the notices the child falling asleep which makes her smile a little. “I’ll train him in the morning, for now we rest.”

Din can only nod as he stands up and takes the kid with him, wrapping him up in his cloak as he heads towards a spot that was comfortable for them to sleep. As y/n rises from the ground he hears Ahsoka ask. “You’re a Dark fey.”

Y/n turns around to see her approach him. “I once met a fey, back when I was still in training.” She says. The feys eyes can only widen in relazation. “You’ve met a fey before?” He asks.

Ahsoka nods her head. “Of course, back when I still training with my masters we once crashed into their home planet. We’ve never heard about their species or where they came from, they were unknown to the rest of the worlds.” She explains. “The ones I met were Aster; the chief of his people and Neela the chiefs wife. She too was a force sensitive but their people didn’t know much about the force so they simply called her, ‘the special one’.”

Y/n is shocked by her words. Have their been Fey around this whole time? Was he not the only one? Could it be possible for him to visit this planet? He had so many questions to ask.

“What—what were they like?” He stutters out, licking his lips as he grips his cloak.

Ahsoka smiles as she nods towards the stump, offering him to sit as she continues to talk about this planet that she once knew.

“The Dark fey were very traditional people and kind. They welcomed us very quickly and taught us their traditions.” She continues on as y/n sits down to listen. “Aster, the chief, had a son who became very close to one of my masters.” She chuckles at the fond memory of her Master Obi-wan.

“Dark fey have this traditions when it comes to finding loved ones,” she says. “Theirs was a dance a very special dance—“ she glanced over at the Mandalorian who was sleeping against a tree with Grogu tucked underneath his arm. “By any chance are you and the Mandalorian together?”

Y/n’s face flushes red as he clears his throat, reaching up to run the back of his neck nervously. “We’ve been bonded together for awhile now.” He shyly looks away from her piercing blue eyes. “Why do you ask?”

Ahsoka hums. “While I was speaking to the child, he told me about you both and how much of a strong connection you have with the Mandalorian.” She adjusts her own cape. “Grogu really cares about you both, he sees you as his family. As parents.” Her eyes sadden at the realization.

Y/n is quick to notice the change of mood, sitting up straight he feels his wings twitch again. “Is that a good thing?” He suddenly grows anxious.

“In your way, yes. But in the Jedi way, it is forbidden.” She sighs out. “In order to become a Jedi you have to avoid attachments. My old Master...he could’ve easily fallen away from the order the day the Chiefs son proposed to him. My master was oblivious during that time and had no idea that the fey was proposing, I could sense his happiness of just being around your people and around him too but—“ she frowns. “He was a selfish fool who only thought about putting his order first before him.” This was the first time that she actually spoke ill about her master. She knew how much Obi-Wan cared and loved the man, she remembers the presents Obi-wan would receive from the fey and how happy he was to just have a small stone given to him. She knew he was happy and she wanted him to stay on that planet with him. But, she can only watch as her master broke the feys heart and telling him that he couldn’t have these attachments. For the first time she felt upset towards her master, upset that he wouldn’t put his own happiness first.

“But, Grogu needs your help.” Y/n whispers out.

“I know he does, but I can’t train him. I can’t lead him down a dark path.” Ahsoka’ voice grows into a small whisper. She knows how much the child means to them and separating him from his family can only upset Grogu and the fear that he holds can easily take him down a dark path, something she can’t bare to see again.

Y/n bites his lip, looking over his shoulder to see his partner and Grogu resting with each other. “Their is another way.” He turns his attention back to Ahsoka. “I can try and train him in the morning but if the child refuses to listen then your second option will be to take him to a Jedi temple. There he will decide his path.”

Y/n heaves out a deep sigh and nods. “Okay.” He says softly as Ahsoka places her hand on his shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze. “Get some rest.” She adds and stands from her spot.

Before she could find her own place to sleep she is stopped by y/n. “The Dark fey, you said their was a planet full of them—do you know where?” He asks desperate to know.

Ahsoka gives him a confused look. “I thought you were from there.”

Y/n shakes his head. “I don’t remember my parents or their names.” He was still a child when he found out that he was the only fey. “I was sold into slavery, passed down by many different masters. I was treated like any other; punished, neglected, sometimes they would tear my feathers away.”

Ahsoka gasps. “A feys wings are considered precious to them and no one is to touch them unless given permission too.” She is shocked to know about this.

“A feys wings are senstive as a child that was my punishment. I didn’t learn how to fly until I got older, but before anything else the mandalorians saved me—“ he looks towards Din and smiles. “Din and I were kids. He was my first friend, my first everything.” He blushes. “We grew up together, I didn’t take the creed due to me being a fey. I wanted to know more about my kind and see if I could find anyone that knew about us but, I never succeed.” He remembers spending his years doing research about the fey, only finding few books and holos about his kind. He remembers annoying the Armorer to let him go search around the area and see if could find just one hint of information about his own people. But in the end he found nothing and accept his fate of being the last one.

But now, now he’s found someone that has met, not just one, but a whole planet full of them and he’s desperate to know where this planet is located.

“I want to see more fey, I want to see my people.” He pleads out. “Please, anything you have can help me.” He looks into her blue eyes, giving her a pleading look.

Ahsoka Can sense his emotions; anger, sadness, joy, relief. She gives off a sad sigh, reaching under her cloak she pulls out a holo. Showing it to y/n. “Before we left I made sure to gather as much information as I could about the Dark fey. Their elders trusted me with this information and allowed me to add their coordinates if we were to ever visit again.” Her fingers graze over the holo before giving it a soft squeeze and handing it over to y/n.

“Take it and go find yourself a place that you can call home.”

Y/ns heart beats loudly as he eyes the holo in Ahsokas hand. Nervously he takes it into his own and bites his lip, holding back tears of joy. “Thank you.”

Ahsoka nods. “You’re welcome.” Smiling at the fey she nudges him towards the Mandalorian. “Best for you to rest, tomorrow we train Grogu.” Y/n sniff and clears his throat. “Right.” He agrees with her and puts away the holo into his own pocket. Turning around he heads towards Din and Grogu, quietly removing his own cape as he drapes it over the two. He sits down next to him and leans his head against Dins shoulder, his wings stretching out and wrapping themselves around his small family and smiles.

#male reader #pedro pascal #din djarin #din djarin x male reader #pedro pascal x male reader #the mandalorain #star wars x male reader #star wars #the mandalorian inccorect quotes #the mandalorian spoilers

253 notes · View notes

ayo-cowbelly · 4 years ago

Text

Anakin Everlasting

read on ao3 here

wowww look at me, posting writing two days in a row... here’s to being productive

again, blame discord. those amazing angst-lovers keep inspiring me to write and make everyone sad.

hope you enjoy!

p.s. pretty sure it's a thing that jedi live a lot longer than average people, usually over 100 years. so that's why that's in there.

***

Anakin wandered throughout the temple. Not the Coruscant one, as you might think- no, he was on Yavin IV now. Years ago, the Jedi had decided to expand and, seeing as there was an unused temple on a lush planet, a planet that was strong in the Force- it was perfect for a new branch of the Order.

He stared out at the greenery, so different from what he had been used to. Even though he came to this place almost 100 years ago, Anakin couldn't find himself getting fully adjusted to the new environment.

Anakin was now surrounded by greens, blues, and browns, so different from the golds and tans he was used to. Those colors represented everything he loved, everything he'd lost, and that which he could not bear to see taken from him. That was why, even if it was a bit uncomfortable, Anakin had moved to Yavin IV. He has lost so much- and Anakin had never been good with loss.

Yes, time heals all wounds, and of course he'd spent time meditating with Yoda, learning how to let go; Yoda was the only one who could even begin to understand Anakin's plight. Despite that, however, he still found his heart aching when he thought of his friends, his family, and how they had left him.

Padmé had been the first to go. She lived to be 97, and Anakin never stopped loving her. As she got older, Padmé had insisted on Anakin moving on, finding a younger person who could keep up with him, now that she was too frail to even leave the apartment most days. He knew she'd be gone soon, so he promised he'd try to find someone.

It was the only promise he'd ever broken.

"I don't want you to mourn the moment you spent with me for an eternity," She had told him.

Anakin, tears in his eyes, whispered back, "You are my eternity, Angel."

That, even 1000 years later, was still true. He loved her, as many others in the galaxy had loved someone; fiercely, eternally, even if she was dead. Anakin and Padmé had a love that would always be real, be true, as long as he kept her memory alive as he traveled across the stars.

Anakin cried for days when Ahsoka died.

His first and dearest Padawan lived to be 117, and she had been feisty until the very end (only Leia had been able to keep up with Ahsoka in that regard- oh, Force, Leia-)

When she left, laying in her bed with soft condolences and gentle teases and whispers of "Don't forget me, Skyguy," Anakin had thought that would break him, as he held her now-limp hand.

Obi-Wan was worse. Obi-Wan, the oldest family member he had left, had been gone for a long time. His brother had lived to be around 124 (or maybe not, Anakin seemed to be getting worse at keeping track of time the longer his life went on). Obi-Wan had lived a long life, a happy life; and when his time came, he learned enough of the Force that he could still visit Anakin, sometimes.

Every once and awhile, the two could talk (it used to be always, back when Obi lived- but Anakin would be the only one who would get an always). But it wasn't the same. Not even close.

He'd never admit it, but Anakin cried for over a week when Obi-Wan faded away. At that time, he was sure he would shatter; If Padmé hadn't broken him, if Ahsoka hadn't, surely his older brother would.

Obi's death had to be the worst, he was positive.

He was so, so wrong.

Nothing could compare to the pure heartbreak that came with the death of his children.

Luke, who was bright like sunshine and serene like water- and Leia, who was pure fire and somehow engulfed everyone she met. They were the brightest parts of Anakin's life, both in the Force and not. They were the best parts of him and Padmé, and he loved them so incredibly much. And, being twins, Luke and Leia spent almost every moment together since their birth. Throughout their lives, it was rare to see one without the other, for nobody was as closely intertwined as they; save for Anakin and Obi-Wan.

So, when Death came for his children, Anakin had to watch as they left together (there was no other way they could go). He'd had them for an amazing 156 years, years he would forever cherish.

Now he didn't have anyone. But somehow, he was still whole. He hadn't broken then, and he hadn't broken when his later Padawans had died (death was hard for Anakin to think about. Even though he somewhat feared it, he also wanted it, if it meant he could see his dearest ones again). But Anakin knew Death would never claim him, so he made the most out of his eternal life (but it was a half-life, for what is a life without love?)

He took other Padawans, trained other students and treated them as his own. Though he knew it was a bad idea, as nobody could stay forever, they became his family. Just as Ahsoka once had, when she'd stepped out of a shuttle on Christophsis.

Anakin also found he was good at storytelling. Every night, he made his way to the Crèche and regaled the younglings with his stories. The now-legends of a beautiful queen, a wise Jedi Master, a snarky Togruta (who had become a Master in her own right), an exasperated clone captain; and later the stories of a brave young man and his fiery twin sister, the smuggler she fell in love with, and how through it all were two droids who were the best of friends.

He told the next generations about their adventures, how they found joy while fighting a war, and he told them of how they had managed to discover and overthrow the Sith. He taught them how to find the Light, find love, even when hope seems lost.

The younglings loved the stories, ate them up until Anakin had no more, so he'd retell them again. He told them to the children, to the Padawans, to the Knights, and even the Masters (even if they were old, most had grown up hearing of Anakin's adventures). His only rule for those who heard the tales? Pass them on, so the memories stay alive.

He taught them a truth he had discovered: Nobody is ever really gone, as long as you keep on telling their stories.

Anakin forever would.

He made his way to a special room he had reserved for himself in the Temple, for as Grandmaster (now that Yoda was gone, Anakin had become the Grandmaster. Yoda's death, of all people... that had hit Anakin harder than he'd thought it would. When someone who seems to be forever dies, said death is shocking) he could do such things.

When he entered, he looked around the room. He surveyed the pictures and trinkets that lay there, waiting for him.

By Padmé's picture, there was the old Japor snippet necklace- along with a small flimsi paper flower he'd once made for her, onboard a Star Destroyer while thinking of how he missed her.

Beside Obi-Wan's, there was a lightsaber that hummed. It seemed to have a mind of its own now, and the buzzing got louder as Anakin approached- or rather, his own blade did. Just as their users were connected, these lightsabers were as well. There was also a small holo of Anakin and Obi-Wan on Cato Nemoidia, just after that "business" that Obi-Wan always said "didn't count". In the picture, Padawan Anakin is grinning widely, arm slung around a very disgruntled Obi-Wan's shoulders.

Next to Ahsoka's lay her two lightsabers and the golden headdress she'd worn since she was young. Anakin remembers how he'd gently lifted it off her head at the funeral, for if he couldn't keep his sister, his beloved Padawan, then he would keep this small part of her.

Alongside Luke and Leia's (their pictures were one and the same, since they almost never did something without the other) there were their own 'sabers and two drawings the twins made when they were toddlers. If Anakin remembered correctly (as time went on, he found it harder and harder to look at such things) the pictures depicted their family- which of course included Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Rex, R2 and 3PO.

The two droids had been shut down long ago, finally going out of use just after Padmé's death.

The room housed other pictures, which showed the rest of Anakin's Padawans- including Ahsoka, there were six in total; But even though he kept all their lightsabers, he only had trinkets for two of them.

Uchani, who had been his second Padawan about 40 years after Ahsoka died, had been a quiet but strong Zeltron. She was a calm person, but there was spunk in her that rivaled Leia's. Uchani was amazing at calming Anakin down when he was angry, the gentle waves of her Force presence dousing out the embers in his. She had become his little sister as well.

Then there was Myn. A young Tholothian, Myn was brave and outspoken, and him and Anakin fit well together. He was the sixth student Anakin had taken, and though he loved all his students, Anakin remembered Myn vividly.

In all his eternal years, Anakin had not been prepared for seeing his Padawan die young. In battle, no less.

Myn was slain by a Darksider in the catacombs of Akiva. Anakin had been too late, moments too late; after cutting down the enemy, he watched as Myn's life dwindled.

Knowing Anakin well after ten years of training, Myn had wheezed, "Don't- Don't do anything- anything reckless, Master."

Anakin refused to look at the wound on his apprentice's stomach. "Myn, we need to get you to a healer-"

"Master- Anakin-" Myn coughed, and Anakin felt the tears in his eyes overflow and run down his face.

"No, please, not you too," Anakin said, but he already knew what the outcome would be.

"It'll be okay, Anakin," Myn murmered, and then he was gone, just like all the others.

Anakin shook off the memory of his last Padawan, and he sat down in the middle of the room. Rex's helmet (Rex, who had lived to be 105 once the accelerated aging was healed, had never stopped standing up for what was right. When his body failed him, he switched to words, fighting until the end. Anakin missed his twin so much), which Anakin had kept in as good condition as possible, stared back at him as he told his family of his day.

When he finished, he felt a presence behind him, and wasn't surprised to see the faint blue glow of Obi-Wan's ghost.

"It sounds like you had a good day, Anakin."

"I did," He said back happily. "But it's not over yet. I'm about to go see the younglings- care to join me, Master?"

Obi-Wan smiled softly. "I'd be delighted, Padawan mine."

235 notes · View notes

askmerriauthor · 3 years ago

Text

Star Wars: Visions thoughts and discussion

Been on a bit of a Star Wars binge lately. Getting ready for the Book of Fett and the return of The Mandalorian soon, just finished playing the Jedi: Fallen Order game, and recently "Star Wars: Visions" dropped on Disney+ (not to be confused with the, like, half-dozen other Star Wars properties that use "Visions" as their title). If you've got the streaming service and haven't watched the series yet, I can honestly suggest you should do so. The whole thing is a series of very short episodes and is entirely non-canon to the setting, so you don't even need a hard understanding of Star Wars to enjoy it.

In fact, it's actually better if you don't know anything about Star Wars going in. Spoilers and brief episode discussion after the jump.

Episode 1: The Duel As soon as I saw a lightsaber umbrella and a R2 droid in a hat, I knew this one was going to be a must-watch.

I REPEAT. LIGHTSABER. UMBRELLA.

Solid kick-off for the short series. Dig the aesthetic, dig the classic samurai vibe (even if it's more of an homage than a direct application of the style), dig the simple story. The particular animation style they chose here was a little wonky but I quickly got used to the visuals and loved a bunch of the design choices too much to care. This one was very action/style-focused and clearly chosen as the leading episode for that reason, which I don't fault them at all for.

Episode 2: Tatooine Rhapsody I'm sorry, I don't recall giving Star Wars permission to be this fucking adorable, how dare you.

The tale of a Padawan survivor of Order 66 who makes a new life for himself not with the power of the Force, but with the power of Rock and Roll and Friendship. Bitchin'. Super adorable, semi-chibi art style that's honestly ringing, like, a dozen different bells in my head for trying to figure out all the different styles it's drawing from. Good fun, if a bit bland in the end. The biggest problem is the music. The story relies on "using music to save the day", which is fine. But when you use that trope you need an absolutely face-melting banger of a performance, which this just doesn't have. An enjoyable entry all the same though. Not bad, not great, cute designs; the quirky story of how Jabba the Hutt got a new slave band to play at his den.

Episode 3: The Twins This entire episode is animated by the team who brought us Kill la Kill and that should really tell you everything you need to know.

You know how if you get a bunch of little kids together, they'll start playing make-believe games where they just invent stories and plot twists and super powers like "I have whatever you can do, but infinity plus 1 better!" shit like that? That's what this short is. It has only the vaguest allusions to the setting proper and immediately hurls every semblance of consistency, logic, and sense out the window with both hands. It is 1,000,000% style over substance.

Okay, y'know what, no, that's not enough to describe the utter insanity this episode is. All I can find online is pictures of the main villain character pulling a General Grievous impression or the protag snaring lightsaber whips on his lightsaber, but that is fucking tiddlywinks compared to where this episode goes.

There is a scene in this short where the protag, who is ghost-riding the hood of his X-Wing upside down in space without a space suit, super-charges his lightsaber into a giant rainbow of FUCK YOU GEORGE LUCAS with the power of familial love and fabulousness, using said rainbow super saber to CUT AN ENTIRE STAR DESTROYER IN HALF WHILE ACCELERATING TO HYPERSPEED, all to save his twin sister's life by making her explode in a somehow non-harmful manner.

This short is utterly nonsensical drivel and yes I would like more right the fuck now, please and thank you.

Episode 4: The Village Bride Wait, we're actually trying to tell a reasonable story in this series? Sorry, I was still on a sugar high from the previous episode. Lemme sit down.

The Village Bride is great. Excellent short that's just dripping with atmosphere and a slow, purposeful pace to its writing. It's short and sweet with little focus on the Force-using characters themselves, which actually serves to its credit. Even in the Star Wars universe, the Ainu people can't catch a fucking break. Easily one of my favorites in the whole run.

Episode 5: The Ninth Jedi The fact that two characters in this short have Sasuke's haircut was extremely distracting. But I actually really enjoyed this entry overall.

Despite playing extremely loose with the established lore around how lightsabers work, this episode over all others really embraces the original setting and tells a slow-burn story about the potential revival of the Jedi Order. A little meandering at times, but it's a solid piece and well worth exploring. Of all the shorts in the series, this one has the greatest potential to actually continue on as a standalone series or be folded into the canon franchise. Main protag is an adorable bean and I love her.

Episode 6: T0-B1 This episode is simultaneously a love letter to Astro Boy and a giant middle finger to Star Wars lore purists.

The tale of an imaginative Droid named T0-B1 who dreams of becoming a hero like the Jedi he's heard so many stories of. This short gets extra credit for being so unyieldingly stylish and charming. On the surface of its presentation and story choices it seems like it doesn't know anything about Star Wars lore, but it's actually packed full of some pretty deep cuts that show the folk behind it do know what they're talking about and just don't fucking care what purists have to say. The entire thing is just "Yeah, I'm ignoring your lore, but I'm doing it in a fun way that makes the setting more interesting, and I'm so genuine about it that you can't be mad at me". I can respect that. Plus the old dude in that screenshot is an armless Jedi who's retired to be a botanist and that's just fucking cool.

Episode 7: The Elder I'm Episode 1, but better.

This one. This shit right here. This is the good shit.

I'm sure y'all have heard before that Star Wars is directly inspired by Kurosawa and samurai films in general, but The Elder really digs into that hard. Where Episode 1 styles itself after a samurai tale, Episode 7 is a samurai tale. Subdued, methodical storytelling, slow-burn pace, charming dialogue amid believable characters, and a truly intimidating villain who provokes a brief but striking duel. This is my vibe. I crave more of this. Far and away the best short of the entire series.

Episode 8: Lop and Ocho Oh for fuck's sake, there's going to be so much porn of this bunny girl character, isn't there?

This entry is another that kind of meanders with the story it's trying to tell and plays very loose with the lore. It reimagines a lot of what we know of the Jedi/The Rebels and Sith/The Empire into a feudal faction-based conflict akin to what you'd see in a period samurai drama. Modernization and callous industry crushing the spirit of the people and breaking apart families. A decent work overall, but nothing really all that impressive in the end. It takes too long to get going and then peters out halfway through its pay-off for some reason.

Episode 9: Akakiri The fact that I had to look up this episode's name and scenes online and still could not remember anything about it should tell you a lot.

The series ends on a downer with the dramatic tale of a fallen Jedi who sacrifices himself and succumbs to the Dark Side. Turning evil for... the greater good? Wha? Had some pretty neat visuals, but I genuinely cannot remember a damn thing about this episode or its characters. Big swing and a miss in terms of impact.

#star wars #star wars visions #sw visions #animation #anime #spoilers

8 notes · View notes

purplesauris · 4 years ago

Text

Fool Me Once (Fool Me Twice)

With the King of Mandalore rising to power and the Empire in shambles, the New Republic reaches out to build a relationship- using Luke Skywalker as their proxy.

Read it on AO3 here!

Yavin was muggy. The thought had stuck with Luke ever since he'd set foot on the planet again, this time to search the ruins of what was left of the Great Temple. It had been used as a base of operations during the Rebellion and decimated soon after, and despite Luke's attempts to get information while he was a pilot, he'd come up short.

Like he was now.

Luke had hoped that he could remember his way, but Artoo couldn't fight through the brush and so Luke had gone it alone, tramping through the underbrush and ducking under branches. the temple, despite being nothing more than a pile of rubble for the most part still called to him, and Luke followed the faint ache and tug in his chest that only grew worse the closer he got. His robes stuck uncomfortably to his lower back, damp with sweat, and Luke cursed himself for not wearing something lighter. He’s still begrudging his poor foresight when he breaks through the purple treeline, stopping short at the sight of the carnage in front of him. Stones are strewn about, ten times his height and just as wide, jagged and scorched by whatever explosive wreaked havoc on the structure.

Luke feels the agony of the people who died here, the resounding sadness and confusion that clings to the stones as Luke carefully picks his way through the ruins in the hope of finding something left. A book, a scroll, even a holo recording or merely a painting would suffice. Anything that Luke could use, could draw inspiration from for his own idea of what his Jedi Order might be like. Luke shivers in the afternoon heat when something in the force cries out for him, drawing his attention to a hole in the ground that when Luke walks up, peering inside, shows the lower levels of the temple. Luke knew it ran deep into the ground, but he was hesitant to drop down into an unstable hole with no way out other than the hole which would surely collapse on him if he so much as sneezed wrong.

"Well, can't go too wrong, can it?" Luke's voice echoes far louder than he means, but nothing stirs around him, not even the predators that had trailed him since he'd landed the x-wing.

Luke takes a deep breath, steadying himself before slowly picking his way down, slipping down the collapsed floor that made a somewhat decent ramp. If Luke didn't know better he'd have thought someone made it themselves. Which, upon a second glance, someone definitely did. Luke draws his lightsaber, using the green blade as an uneasy light source as he pads through the room, careful of each step but curious nonetheless. There isn't much- these look like what were once living quarters; all of the valuables were on the higher levels, including the library, but Luke can hope and the force hasn't steered him wrong yet.

Luke takes his time searching the room, avoiding the dank stairway descending further into the ground in favor of shuffling smaller bits of rubble around. Searching this temple, after all it's been through is a long shot, one that Luke knows won't pay off, but seeing the rows and rows of beds, picking up an old tattered blanket and sweeping a finger over the stitching on the edge makes him feel closer to a heritage he was only given a crash course in. Luke keeps the blanket with him, as old and moth eaten as the one edge is, and Luke is nearly finished with his slow search of the great room when he spots a stack of books bound together and tucked neatly under a rotted bed frame.

He thinks he’s hallucinating for a minute, but when he crouches down, reaching out to slide them closer the leather bound books are as real as anything else. The leather strap binding them together disintegrates when Luke slips a finger underneath them, so he opts to use the blanket, wrapping them up tightly to keep the moisture from ruining the already delicate books. Luke presses the books close to his chest, scaling the ramp that led him down into the room and breaking out into the hazy light of mid afternoon. Now that he’s gotten the books the temple is silent, only the whispers of what happened singing to Luke as he makes his way back to the ship.

He wonders if leaving the temple behind to fade into obscurity is cruel.

Much like the Jedi of old, the temple is from a time when things were wildly different, and Luke knows that even if he were to come back, to rebuild, the memories and dreams of those who inhabited it before would only haunt him and whatever students he found. No, it was better this way, to finally let the temple rest, after all it had been through to bring Luke to this moment.

His walk through the jungle back to his x-wing is just as sweaty and annoying as the trek in, but Luke’s irritation is tempered by the books pressed to his chest, the chance at something more hidden within the crumbling pages. He wants nothing more than to plop himself down in the cockpit, to crack open the first one and read until the light of the day leaves him fumbling. Luke is sweating all over again by the time he catches sight of the faded red splashed along the hull of his ship, and the ladder lowers automatically, Artoo beeping a greeting as Luke hauls himself up into the open cockpit.

He leaves the blanket and the books in his seat while he shrugs out of his heavy robe, folding it and tucking it in the space behind his chair. It leaves him in only the black fatigues underneath, but the faint breeze that rustles through the clearing he landed in is blissful and Luke sinks down into the seat with a lazy sigh.

“I found books, Artoo! Not sure what they hold yet, but I’m going to-”

Artoo whistles, makes a whirring sound, and Luke scowls.

“What do you mean there’s a communication for me?”

Sure enough the small holo relay on his dash is blinking slowly with an incoming recording and Luke groans, leaning back in his seat and staring up at the stars. He’d requested one thing from them when he’d agreed to help. One thing, something that was easily given should they choose to do so. Luke sits there a moment more, debating on if he should ignore it when Artoo beeps inquisitively, offering to turn it on for him. Luke waves a hand dismissively, sitting up with a grunt and slapping the play button. Leia’s face shimmers into view immediately, kind but pinched with annoyance, and Luke squints. The slope of her shoulders hold an undeniable tension, a worry that betrays her calm demeanor.

“Luke, the Senate has a new task for you. Please rendezvous on Coruscant at your earliest convenience.” Leia pauses, glancing at something to her left before her shoulders slump as she turns back to face the camera. “You aren’t going to like it. I’ll hold them off as long as I can- take your time coming home.”

Luke sits there mulling over the words as the holo with his sister’s face fades out. He isn’t going to like it? The thought brings with a strange pang of anxiety, curling in his gut and making his heart kick up a notch. If he’s not going to like it and Leia is willing to hold the Senate off then Luke is going to take his damn time getting back to Coruscant. As much as he wants to call it home, to let himself have a place to stop, to settle, Coruscant isn’t it. Leia is as close to home as he thinks he’ll ever get- his one constant, someone who won’t back down just because of who he is. She’s strong and smart, but where he shirks political messes, half because of the Jedi Code and half his own disinterest, Leia rises to the challenge. Blossoms with each situation she maneuvers through. The fact that she seemed so much like a wilting flower, petals all but ready to fall betrays just how badly she hates what is going to be asked of him.

“Artoo, bring us back to Coruscant. Slow and steady.” Artoo whistles merrily, bringing the cockpit down around Luke and sealing him inside. Luke slips his helmet on and straps himself in, intent to do a bit of reading before they make it to the technocity. Artoo’s ascent through the atmosphere is a bit choppy, but Luke is used to that, bracing his feet along the bottom of the ship and tensing the muscles in his stomach. He hardly moves, and only once they’re in the vacuum of space, moving toward Coruscant does he open the first book.

The spine creaks eerily in protest at being opened, and most of the ink is faded or obscured. What Luke does manage to read is mostly journal entries, from a padawan by the looks of it. The entries are sporadic, messy, but Luke follows them as best he can.

They have us lifting stones. Stones! I can crumple an entire army of people under fist and they have us lifting pebbles. I tried to tell them, to show them just what I could do, but they urged patience. That’s all they ever go on about! “Be patient, be calm, the Force guides in all ways.” Well, if this is the Force guiding me, what was guiding me before? What called me to this cursed moon to sit with stuffy old men in scratchy robes who ignore my skill level and train me with children?

Luke feels his own earlier training mirror the thoughts of whoever owned this journal before, and Luke can’t help but remember his masters. They’d been right in almost every way, in the way they were training, but Luke, like this person, was too blind to see. Luke was too blinded by emotion, by worry for his sister and his friends and everything to care. Luke still feels like it will choke him now sometimes, but he can never let the feeling quite catch up to him. He tucks the journal away for now, knowing that he isn’t going to get anything analytical from that particular volume. The next one that Luke cracks open is smaller, denser, and the ink on the paper is dark, as if fresh. The pages are crumbling at the edges, deteriorating with age, so the fact that everything else is holding up is intriguing.

Luke loses himself within the pages.

Pages upon pages of Jedi training, rituals and rites of passage- all that Luke has ever dreamed of knowing is here, in this book. His heart soars with the implications, the knowledge he holds in his hand, and he reads greedily. There are entire passages on things he can do with the force, from growing plants to healing to reading someone’s mind- Luke had already been finely attuned to feelings, but the thought that he could read thoughts? That opened a can of worms he wasn’t sure he was ready to tell anyone about. Granted, the thought of invading someone’s privacy like that leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but the thought of all that Jedi were able to do, able to specialize in, makes him giddy, flushed with anticipation and nervous all over again.

It’s almost enough to distract from the fact that whatever the Senate is about to have Luke do is dangerous and potentially life threatening. Luke flips through the rest of the book, skimming more so than reading, until Artoo whistles and chirps, alerting him that they’re about to break through hyperspace and into the artificial atmosphere around Coruscant. Luke braces himself for the descent and the flashing lights of the city, letting Artoo communicate with the tower as he brings them down to a private landing pad reserved specifically for Luke. He hardly uses it, more content to be off-world than among the smog and people who bother him for pictures and stories from the rebellion. He takes his time gathering his things and shrugging back into his robe, figuring he’ll be here long enough to at least go home. Luke wants to take his time walking to the Senate building, but he feels Leia before he sees her, and he drops from the cockpit nearly into her lap.

“Leia-” He hardly has time to steady his feet before Leia is hugging him tight, arms squeezing around his ribs and cheek pressed to his chest. There’s no hesitation in Luke’s response as his arms go around her, Luke pressing his nose into her hair and closing his eyes. He holds her there as she shakes in his arms, fingers digging into his back. “Leia…”

Leia finally pulls back, dashes her hands across her cheeks and smiling weakly. The smile doesn’t light up her eyes like it normally does and Luke pulls her into another hug, this time letting her arms go around his neck as he squeezes her. He feels her shudder again, and finally she speaks when Luke sets her down, chucking her gently under the chin.

“I don’t like what they’re doing to you, Luke. Haven’t you done enough?” Luke doesn’t let his own anxiety bleed into Leia’s, instead merely raising a brow.

“I’m the last Jedi, Leia. There are things they have to ask of me.”

“Not this. When is enough enough?” Luke feels Leia’s anger surge in her like a rising storm, but it’s tempered by her own confusion and heartache, and Luke reaches to take her hand. Leia stares down at his gloved hand, taking a deep breath before her shoulders square again, and this time when Luke looks at her, really looks, he sees the same hot-headed, determined Princess he saw on the Death Star so many years ago.

“Let’s go see what they have to say.”

Luke allows Leia to keep hold of his hand while they slip into the city, Artoo following along dutifully even as they hop from speeder to speeder. Luke’s landing pad and apartment are about as far from the Senate building as he can get without them throwing a fit, and Luke needs that distance. Craves it. Luke doesn’t miss being in the city, even with the cool breeze that’s so unlike the humidity of Yavin IV. The smog and din of people milling around him, of holorecorders snapping pictures as he moves through the crowd makes his skin crawl, and he fights the urge to pull his hood up. They’ve already gotten half a dozen pictures and headlines by now, Luke is estimating, so what’s a dozen more?

What’s one more moment stolen from him in the grand scheme of all the ones stolen before?

The Senate building looms like all the other buildings, built of twisting steel and glass and overwrought opulence. Half of the budget that went to the building could have fed planets of people, but Luke tries not to see the waste in it. Tries to pretend that stepping foot into the building doesn’t make his stomach clench with untold anxiety. Leia is a steady presence beside him, having recovered from the landing pad, and she straightens her clothes and brushes a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. Once her armor is once again set in place she squares her shoulders, pushing into the main meeting room and ignoring the way that silence falls around her.

Luke slips in behind her, hoping not to be noticed as she takes her seat. It doesn’t work, never has before, and Luke descends onto the floor as the desks of the senate rise above him in a slow wave, a sea of faces staring back. Luke folds his hands in front of him, aware that he is in no way in trouble, and projects serenity as strongly as he can manage. He sees the front row of senators relax, and knows he’s doing something right at least.

“Master Skywalker, it’s good of you to join us.”

“I’m sorry I couldn't come sooner, I was preoccupied on Yavin IV.” Luke inclines his head toward the body of the Senate, hiding the scowl that wants to furrow his brow.

“Did you find anything of import?” The question is innocent enough, curious even, but Luke can hear the double edged blade he’s balancing on, and he straightens up, giving a careful, bored shrug of his shoulders.

“The ruins of the temple were in far worse shape than I thought. It will take quite a few visits to search through the whole thing.”

“We can have a team sent, if it would ease your struggles, Master Skywalker.”

Luke smiles, easy and warm, and shakes his head at the man who has deigned to do most of the speaking. “The temple is in poor shape, and I fear sending someone nor versed in the Force would only cause it’s gradual collapse to speed up.”

“A good point. Well…” Luke watches the way the crowd shifts, all at once glancing toward Leia before glancing back at the man asking the questions. Luke has dealt with him before, many times, but for the life of him he cannot remember his name. “We have a task for you, if you are willing to undertake it.”

“I believe the Senate gave me leave to resume my search for Jedi artifacts.” Luke points out, trying not to let his irritation rise when the man nods, fake sympathy etched into the wrinkles around his mouth.

“That was… Before this newest problem had arisen.” Luke’s hands clench in front of him, fingers curling around each other, and he eases back with his right hand, careful not to crush his other fingers. Luke dips his head in a motion meant to tell them to go on, and to his annoyance and relief, they do. “There is a new king on Mandalore.”

“The glass planet? I thought it was inhospitable.”

“It was under the Empire’s control for quite some time.” The man agrees, steepling his fingers against his chin as he leans back in his chair. “But a mandalorian has claimed the Darksaber from Moff Gideon, and by extension, risen to power.”

“And what am I to do about it? Mandalore is a ghost planet, a myth more than anything else. Why bother them?”

“Mandalorians are by far the greatest warriors this galaxy has ever seen.” Luke’s eyes widen marginally, flicking to Leia only to find hers steely with resolve. Growing horror mounts within Luke, gnawing at his heart and scraping across his ribs. “They despise the Empire and Imperials nearly as much as we, but we cannot risk them doing something out of desperation.”

“So reach out to them.”

Smiles among the Senate turn sharklike and Luke feels like a piece of bait lobbied into a sarlacc pit. Waiting with resigned dread to be eaten alive. “We have. We have offered the help of our greatest asset and commander of the Rebellion to aid their fight in retaking and rebuilding their planet.”

“You aren’t seriously thinking of sending Leia with me.”

“No, Master Skywalker.” Relief floods Luke, making his knees go weak, but it’s drowned out by the sudden rushing in his ears. “We’re only sending you.”

Luke freezes at that, head emptying, stomach dropping away from him all at once. He feels hollowed out, dizzy with disbelief, and he can’t breathe standing under the lights and hungry gazes of the Senate. Luke does the only thing he can think to do: he turns on his heel, robe flaring out behind him as he turns and slips from the room, letting the door close with a final, resounding click.

He’s running after that- thoughts a blur and faces passing him by in messy smears of colors and concern. Their feelings flood in him in waves of curiosity, awe, admiration that he doesn’t deserve, and by the time Luke makes it over and down to his apartment his heart is beating from his chest. He can’t go to Mandalore- it’s a death wish, certain and swift. Luke locks himself away in his apartment, moving through the dark of the living room without needing sight, ignoring the lights and Artoo’s quiet beeping. He has to think- there has to be a way to say no, to tell them in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t feel like dying on a planet no one has set foot on in decades. On a planet so steeped in agony and death and betrayal that Luke feels sick just at the mention of it.

He knows Mandalore’s history, knows it and does not want to see it.

Luke is sitting on the floor in the living room, legs folded and eyes closed when the lock on his door beeps before the door itself slides open. There are only two people with access to the apartment, so Luke isn’t surprised when Leia’s aura brushes against his, watery and weak with sorrow as she sits across from him. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to see the way she slips into her own meditative state, breathing in and out in time with Luke to calm the raging of her heart and her emotions. Luke allows his own power to brush against hers, to gauge the way she’s feeling and offer his own steady calm in the absence of hers.

“You don’t have to go.” She whispers, voice shaking in the dark of the room.

Luke sits there for a moment, throat tight, before he answers. “You know that isn’t true. If they don’t send me, they’ll send you. And when you don’t come back they’ll send me anyway.”

“They wouldn’t hurt me. Not with the strength the New Republic holds.”

“You don’t know that.” Luke hears Leia’s mouth open to protest, but she stops short, unable to say anything truthfully and aware that if she lies Luke will feel it. “How long have they been planning this?”

“I don’t know. The rise of the new king was abrupt- one moment Mandalore was a barren planet, and the next? An old Imperial Remnant was blasting each and every Empire base into obscurity.”

“Moff Gideon’s ship.” Luke parses that much from the little the Senate gave him, and Leia makes a noise of affirmation. “How quickly did they take the planet back?”

“A matter of hours. They took out the air bases first: all the tie fighters, their best military outposts. It was a textbook take over. I doubt we could have done anything better.”

Luke huffs out something resembling a laugh. Even in the face of the unknown Leia finds something to learn from, and Luke loves her more for it. “Why me?”

“You’re a status symbol. A mark of the New Republic’s power. For you to willingly step foot on the planet, to go and talk to their king? It’s-”

“Monumental. A moment in history.” Luke finishes, words twisted and bitter on his tongue. As if he hasn’t had a lifetime of making history. Of bleeding and bleeding and bleeding for a cause.

“I tried to fight against it.” Leia says softly, voice full of iron. “You’re one man, surely they could find a contingent of people to represent us. But once your name was suggested no one listened to anything else.”

“It’s okay.” He says, even though it’s far from okay. This is the path that he’s been placed on, and there’s no way he can get out of it. He knows deep in his heart, in the very core of him that this is inevitable- like the rising and falling of the tides, Luke is on a direct course toward whatever destiny is in store for him, and he’s only holding on in the desperate hope he makes it out relatively unscathed. “Go, Leia, tell them that I’ve decided.”

“What have you decided?” Luke smiles, leaning forward to nudge Leia’s knee with a hand and shoo her up to her feet.

“You’ll hear in the morning, when I tell the council.”

#dinluke #alternate au #post chapter 16 #slow burn #prince au #Adri and I said what if luke was a prince #and here i go

39 notes · View notes

siennahrobek · 4 years ago

Text

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31766296/chapters/82386322

Future Past

6 BBY

Luke is eleven years old.

Luke went through a lot of firsts during his time with Ben. Often times, they could be some of his happiest memories, ones he would cherish and go back to when he was feeling sad or frustrated or generally negative.

The first time Luke saw him fight with a lightsaber put him in awe. It hadn’t been the first time Luke had seen the saber, but it had been the first time he had seen it – and Ben – in action. It was a bit inspiring. It only made Luke want to be a jedi more. It wasn’t all about the violence – although that may have played a part – but Ben was so smooth and calm, at one with the saber.

It sang.

And it was absolutely beautiful.

Luke remembered one of the earliest fights with an Inquisitor. It had been the first time Ben had drawn and ignited his lightsaber for battle. And Luke would probably never say otherwise – it was mesmerizing. No one fought like Ben. And Ben just obliterated his opponent.

Or, he supposed he would have, if Luke had listened to him.

At the time, Luke thought it would be the craziest thing he would ever see. He didn’t remember most events leading up to it, but he did remember the man who just pounced on them out of nowhere, a red saber practically screeching toward Luke’s head – was the saber screaming? Was Luke? It could have been both.

Ben had blocked the blade before it made contact with Luke and the boy’s vision had turned white from the light emanating from the lightsabers. Luke could not even breathe.

“Luke! To the ship!” Ben had barked in a tone Luke had never heard from him before. But Luke did not disobey, he scrambled away from the contradiction of the sobbing and shrieking of one saber and the quiet, protective and comforting strength of the other.

He tore across the grass, stains on his knees and arms from the dirt as he raced to their ship. Once at the ramp, he had turned around. He couldn’t help it.

“Ben!”

Ben had taken precious time to look over at him, eyes flashing in some kind of protective fury that only gentled at the sight of him.

The strange man had thrown Ben into a tree for the distraction.

Luke let out a cry.

It would be the only blow the Inquisitor would make. The man moved towards Luke and the boy was virtually frozen in fear. The red saber and its user just turned in time to block Ben’s initial blow, once again in the fight with a warrior and not a child. It was pretty much over after that, by then. A bare few mere strokes and the duel was finished with the Inquisitor on the ground. Unconscious or dead, Luke was too frazzled to know. But he did remember running into Ben and leaping into his arms.

He had caught the child, but it was a close thing, and he dropped his saber for the catch, which he did with a grunt at the sudden weight. “I’m so sorry, Ben!” Luke wailed. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, beacon. I’m fine,” Ben assured as he shifted himself to hold Luke better, but the boy just curled his arms and legs around the older man so tightly, it was unlikely he would fall even if Ben had let go. He used the force to pull his saber to him and started walking back to the ship.

Luke tucked his face into the crook of Ben’s neck. Ben just patted his back.

“It’s alright, Luke,” he murmured as they walked into the ship. The ramp closed up behind them. “Now do you see why we have rules?”

“Rules can be good,” Luke agreed, muttering in Ben’s neck and hair.

“There is a time and place to both follow and break rules,” he said, gently. “I will try to teach you to decide which is which and when either is good or appropriate.”

Luke just hummed. He didn’t let Ben go for quite some time.

It would be weeks later when the force apparition – ghost, Luke thought – of Qui-Gon Jinn appeared to him. He was ready for lessons that Luke would later recognize as kind of undermining or contradicting Ben’s. It was rather confusing, but Luke was young and impressionable. Surely Qui-Gon thought he could get some of his maverick and living force tendencies and lessons in. And he did. Sort of. Eventually.

But it happened later, when Luke understood more, better. What Qui-Gon Jinn didn’t quite realize was how Luke was into Ben, how curious he was about his guardian. When Qui-Gon had came back around again, Luke had learned about padawans. And all he wanted was to be Ben’s.

Which meant, at this stage, he had very little interest in Qui-Gon Jinn’s teachings… unless it pertained to Ben.

“Hello, Luke,” Qui-Gon Jinn greeted warmly. The boy was in his little room, fiddling with a tiny, dull carving knife, going at it in a wooden carving. Blonde hair shifted as he perked, glancing up at the blue hue of the ghost, no longer surprised by his appearance. He nearly threw the knife and wood away from his body but paused, carefully setting them on a tiny shelf, taking several safety precautions in the process.

The ghost tried to stifle his chuckle.

“Hello Master Jinn,” Luke greeted when he was done, sitting cross legged and looking up at him with a wide smile.

“Ah, it’s Master Jinn now, huh?”

“Ben told me about masters and padawans,” Luke replied. “And the difference between slave masters and teacher masters. I think I’m pretty sure I can understand the difference.”

“And how do you think the difference is?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Well, a master like a jedi can become a master, is mastering yourself and learning a topic, or several, where you know more about than most,” Luke replied, and it sounded like he was almost reciting it. Qui-Gon wondered if he had looked it up in a dictionary or had learned and then rehearsed it.

The ghost nodded and drifted towards the boy a little closer. “Would you be amendable to talk?” he asked.

Luke just smiled. “I don’t know what amendable means, but I’d love to talk. I have sooooomany questions,” he said and there was something about his expression that was a tad bit suspicious, but Qui-Gon certainly couldn’t quite understand it.

“Well, I suppose we have some time for some questions…” he drifted off, uncertainly. He was only eleven after all; no doubt he had many questions in general. He just hoped that he could be able to have adequate answers.

“Great!” Luke cheered as he shifted in his bed, pulling the blanket up into his lap and wiping away wooden shavings. “Do you want to sit down?”

The older – dead – man just chuckled again, a bit nervous this time. “Uh, I don’t really need to sit. I’m not even entirely sure that I can.”

Luke shrugged. “Okay. Ben said it’s polite to offer a seat when you can. Speaking of, I should start simple. How long was Ben your padawan?”

“Uh…” Qui-Gon drifted off, uncertainly. This was not what he was expecting. “He became my padawan around age thirteen and he was knighted at twenty-five, after my death,” he answered, and Luke scribbled something in a notebook. “What are you writing?”

Luke shrugged. “No worries. Just thoughts. Do you know his favorite food?”

“Favorite food?”

“Ben’s favorite food,” Luke clarified, staring at him expectantly. The simple questions lasted a few more minutes until they stretched into somethings that needed longer answers, such as, “What was your first mission? What was the most fun mission? Why does Ben not like droids? Did you know my father? Do you know about Ben’s lovers? Or his friends? Does he like candles? What hobbies did he have when he was young? Were you the one who taught him Sabaac? You know when he does that thing? You know that thing with his face? Do you know what that means?”

Qui-Gon Jinn didn’t really have a concept of time as a force ghost, but he knew that much time must have had passed. Luke kept asking question after question, skillfully going from one topic to the next in conversation. But they were nearly all pertaining to Ben. Luke seemed utterly uninterested in anything the jedi had to offer except for insights on Qui-Gon’s former padawan. He had plenty of those, admittedly. But the realization and thought had stunned him next.

It took the old jedi an admittedly embarrassingly long time to realize it.

“You’re stalling,” he noted, dumbfounded.

Luke stopped talking, abruptly, in the middle of what he was saying and stared at him for several moments. And then he glanced down at the chrono at his bedside. Upon seeing the numbers listed, he perked and jumped up, cheering loudly.

Qui-Gon Jinn jerked back, startled.

“I DID IT!” he yelled, spinning around in some type of a dance, waving his hands and legs around as he laughed, near hysterically.

“You did what?”

“I distracted youfor three hours!” Luke grinned at him, standing on his bed with his face and eyes gleaming in pride. “Ben said I couldn’t do it for even one.” The child just jumped off the bed and ran off, away from the room, yelling and screaming in glee. Qui-Gon was left absolutely flabbergasted. And he stayed there for several minutes, too stunned to move.

Eventually, his former apprentice found him in the child’s room, his expression something absolutely amused and completely glowing with pride.

“You are training him to stall,” Qui-Gon noted, incredulous and dumbfounded.

“Yes of course,” Ben affirmed, tucking his hands into his large sleeves.

“For three hours,” Qui-Gon continued slowly.

“I am impressed that he got through that long without some plant or pathetic lifeform’s help,” Ben admitted.

“You still use that form?”

Obi-Wan just hummed. “It has become a bit of an endearment over the years.”

“Three hours,” Qui-Gon repeated, flatly.

“It is a good start,” Ben replied.

“Start? You plan on training him to do that for longer?”

Ben glanced at him, staring for a moment in surprise. He turned a bit to pick up and sweep up some of the wooden shavings Luke had left, as well as straighten his bed, left messed up with Luke’s celebratory dance. “Of course, I do. It is a good skill to have, especially in the galaxy that we currently live in. The one Luke is forced to live in.”

“I do have teachings for you,” Qui-Gon urged, gently. After his talk with Ben, he went to find Luke again. He did find him, as it wasn’t a large ship, and he was in the kitchenette area, snacking on some treats. The boy was practically stuffing his face. He glanced at up at the ghost and chewed and then swallowed before he spoke.

“If I need to know them, I’m sure Ben will teach me,” Luke shrugged and made a move to eat more of whatever food he was enjoying. He paused as Qui-Gon kept speaking.

“Has he made rules for seeing and talking to me?” Qui-Gon asked, continued to be dumbfounded. That wasn’t exactly something he was expecting. Obi-Wan – Ben – didn’t seem averse to Qui-Gon teaching and talking with Luke, in fact, he almost seemed to encourage it.

“No,” Luke replied steadily, keeping his eyes on his task as he picked out some of the specific treats from the bag. He didn’t seem too bothered by this line of questioning. Well, at least Ben wasn’t putting a ban on it but if Ben didn’t… Qui-Gon wasn’t sure what was going on. And then Luke kept going, calm and stable as ever. “I did.”

“What? Why?” he sputtered.

“You say dumb things sometimes.”

Qui-Gon did not know what that meant. Or rather, what the boy meant by that. He had only spoken to the youngster twice. “About what?”

Luke shrugged again and popped a treat in his mouth. He seemed to start to offer one to Qui-Gon but then paused and thought about it. It probably came to his attention at that moment that Qui-Gon couldn’t exactly eat. Or drink. It was a bit of a letdown, honestly. Ben kept quite a bit of tea on the ship. “You can be kind of confusing and exhausting sometimes.”

“Confusing and exhausting,” Qui-Gon echoed, confused.

5 BBY

Luke is twelve years old.

“Please be gentle with the controls. I am not convinced these old bones can take it.”

Luke couldn’t help but shrink a bit as his hands tightened around the ship’s controls. His eyes cast down at the board in shame. “Sorry, Ben.”

“No worries. Just keep it in mind,” he gently reminded as he put a hand under the boy’s chin to lift it. “And keep your eyes where you desire to go.”

It wasn’t Luke first lesson when it came to flying the ship, but it was the first time that they were practicing in the dangers of a junk yard. Getting caught was dangerous, of course, but what the trick really was ended up being avoiding others and the debris that was constantly moving. And the creatures that sometimes inhabited the planets underneath the rubble.

Luke was good and they both knew it. He had a knack and talent for it, something Ben had told him he had in common with his father. Ben told him that Anakin Skywalker had been an unparalleled pilot, absolutely amazing in the sky. It had been a note and story that excited the youngster because oh wow he was like his father. In such a way, he was like his father, that was so good and pure, and he wanted nothing more.

He had been so thrilled to hear what they had in common.

“A ship is not an animal. It cannot feel and it cannot learn,” Ben kept speaking, hours into their practice in the junkyard planet. Luke almost laughed. Ben was good with animals, something he had learned fairly quickly, and he said it was something Luke could get better with as well. Luke didn’t get to see a lot of animals, but Ben said it was natural to connect with others in bonds. Luke was looking forward to learning. “Whereas a beast – a varactyl for example – can learn and move with you, a ship cannot and needs explicit instructions,” he explained. “However, a too firm and strict grasp on the controls can jerk around your movements and it won’t make flying any easier.

Luke nodded as he softened his hand, not even shooting Ben a glance. “Got it.”

He kept lightening his touch on the controls, leaning with the movements, putting all his attention on the outside surroundings to avoid or go around with an emphasis on where he was going. These places were natural obstacle courses.

“You are going very well,” Ben hummed. Luke barely heard him. “Let’s kick things up a notch, eh?”

At first, Luke wasn’t entirely sure what he meant but it soon became clear. They were going faster. Objects and downed ships flew past them, and Luke could almost feel the wind whistling in his ears. Logically, he knew that was impossible, that it was just the engines working to keep up with what Luke was asking of them.

But oh, did it feel like it.

Luke just let out a whoop.

(Luke would be thirteen the first time he outflies Darth Vader. He would never forget it. Perhaps it was luck and circumstance rather than solely on skill. Luke certainly thinks so even if Ben says there is no such thing as luck. Luke takes that as a compliment.)

Present Past

Start

Luke was left alone for the night.

All in all, he didn’t actually sleep much. Enough, but not much. He walked around the assigned room, looking and searching. There had to be something, anything, he could use. He was a survivor, he was determined, like his guardian before him. There was a thorough search of his room, and he collected any tools he thought he could possibly use. There was not much. He didn’t have the quite the feelings and foresight as Ben did, but he did have instincts and he had learned from some the best. Afterwards, Luke knelt on the floor, laying a thin folded blanket under his knees. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and just sunk into the Force.

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” Luke exhaled as he recited the mantra, quiet and nearly inaudible, even to himself. He had found something in the jedi mantra, especially after Ben clarified the intricacies of it. At first glance, in the initial stages of his explanation, it had been incredibly hard to understand in a way that wasn’t harsh on the jedi. But as Ben quietly explored and continued to elaborate, Luke understood more. He didn’t completely understand it all yet, but the mantra had been a source of comfort for him. Something to say when things were hard. “There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.”

He reached out, avoiding the oily dark presence that he knew to be Count Dooku and gave it a wide berth. There wasn’t a great deal of the force’s presence on the ship, being so enormously inhabited with droids, void of life. He reached further. Dull, dull, disgustingly dark. Moving along, he startled at a brightness. Not the clone troopers, as there was only a singularity in the particular area, but it was warm and stunning and…

Purposefully tempered.

He swallowed harshly and moved on, but he kept it in mind. As he reached further, there was a small mass of light somewhere near the edges of the space, but, if he concentrated and looked closer, harder, more, he could make it out.

Make out…

One; soft and warm, loyal and curious. Worried.

Two; steadfast and solid, collected.

Three; questioning, irritated, full of life and joy.

Four; snarky and ready, bundled and sardonic.

Five; a tad determined, understated, kind.

Six; working, working, working, comfort, trying, trying, trying.

Luke exhaled in relief. The troopers, strong in their light and presence. At the very least, alive and not in immediate danger of dying. There was that, at least. He opened his eyes and could almost feel them softening. The things around him started to blurry and his hand reached up to his face. It came back damp. Oh, so he’s crying. “Okay, okay,” he muttered, wiping the tears away. It was something, he wasn’t alone yet. He could do this. He could do this. “They are alive. Now I just need to figure out how to get us out of here.

Count Dooku’s brief communication with the Queen of Zygerria had not gone as smoothly as it should have. He took it with the strength, demand and grace as he always did but she was determined to keep some of her freedom. Pity. She wasn’t the only one that was actively annoying him. There was so much going on, and so much to think and figure out. After the call, Count Dooku managed to retire to his quarters with minimal distractions or encounters. He would have to figure out what to do with the wounded traitor besalisk. It was fairly obvious what the former jedi wanted, what he apparently thought he was worthy of.

But Dooku had little interest in that tutelage.

But he wasn’t useless, Dooku could get something out of him.

His assistant had brewed him some fresh tea in a pot and so he walked over to the stand and poured himself half a glass. Taking a sip, he took a breath and tried to organize what he currently knew. Something was happening. In the force. In the galaxy. Something even his master hadn’t – couldn’t – account for.

And young Luke was centered in the middle of it. Dooku didn’t know how or why or anything of that sort. He didn’t know specifics, he couldn’t. He hardly knew anything about the boy at all. It was all rather sudden. And it was, in fact, incredibly frustrating.

The child had most certainly been trained by Kenobi, that much was clear, by the way he moved and even the way he spoke. He had spent plenty of time fighting and often conversing briefly with the jedi. Dooku also had a lot of spies and intelligence feeding him information, especially when it came to Skywalker and Kenobi. But he had never even had heard of an inkling of anyone named Luke.

It was like he just manifested one moment.

Where did he come from?

Obviously, Kenobi had kept him well hidden and kept in contact with him. So much so that Luke had learned well from the jedi. How could he be so much like a padawan without being one and never show up in Kenobi’s life. His research had come up with very little. Luke was about fifteen or sixteen, he’d wager, making Kenobi about twenty, perhaps, when he was born. Maybe a little more, maybe a little less. Dooku hadn’t paid much attention to his grand padawan until the war started, aside from his own master’s thoughts and notes on Kenobi and his padawan, but once Kenobi started rising quickly thought the war, proving himself such a worthy and capable general, Dooku looked more.

How could he not?

“Ah,” Luke smiled, looking up as the door opened to his room. It was fake, of course, it was hard to try being pleased with the sight before him when he was very much, not. Count Dooku and his assistant strode in, a tray in the latter’s hand. It had been quite some time since they had left him alone, plenty of time to think. Luke could smell the aroma of Alderaanian Jasmine. It made his eyes near flutter, oh did he love that. He was sitting on the floor, kneeling, meditating and did not move when the two of them came in. “My keeper,” he pondered, and he pushed as much amusement in his voice as he could. “What do I owe the pleasure? Would you prefer our delightful back and forth banter or are you here with questions? I must confess, I do not imagine I have many answers to the latter,” he admitted.

“I have had sustenance brought,” Dooku replied, stiffly.

“Cool,” Luke grinned wider as he stood up and gratefully took the tray. He set it on the bed and plopped down next to it. The food was easy to eat, probably could be done with fingers, even though he was given silverware. Dooku probably expected him to eat it with said silverware, but Luke had little inclinations for such things at the moment. “Hey, how far into the war do you think you’ll make?”

Dooku startled but to his credit, he barely showed his surprise. It could not have been a question that he was expecting. Luke didn’t think anyone could really expect that. “Excuse me?”

“When, during the war, do you think you will meet your demise?” Luke asked, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth. Dooku looked just a bit stunned, the difference between the Luke before and the Luke that was in front of him now. And, of course, the abrupt inquiry about Dooku’s lifespan. “I was thinking of starting a betting pool,” he paused as he chewed through some of the food and thought about it for a moment. “I’m gonna place my bets just rrrriiiiigghhhttt before the war ends.”

Dooku seemed rather curious but not in any way amused. “Why then?”

“By then,” Luke shrugged, not even giving him a glance as he ripped apart some of the bread. It was rather good stuff. “I imagine your master will no longer have a use for you.”

Then he said something that Luke didn’t completely understand or hear until much later, when he thought about it. “You are definitely related to Kenobi,” he had muttered, deep under his breath.

“What?” Luke sputtered.

Dooku led Luke down the halls, accompanied by a squad of battle droids silently. Their talk had been a bit long, as Dooku did not approve of the initial conversation. Luke had realized where he knew Zygerria, it was a slave planet. And that was what they talked about. Slaves. Slavery. Luke isn’t entirely sure how it comes about, how Dooku is willing to give so much, about their allies in the Zygerrians. It was a difficult conversation for Luke, one that he was fairly certain Dooku noticed and drew some conclusions of. But it was a conversation that Luke was a bit passionate about.

He had seen what slavery had done, what it was, on the planet he grew up on. He had heard the stories about his grandmother who had lived decades in it before finally able to be free. Before she fell in love and started a family when her first son became a jedi. He had heard about where his father had come from, what his father had done to free himself in a pod race.

He knows Dooku is having problems with the Queen of Zygerria. It is obvious, as they are being escorted to the planet. The count said he will make her see reason. Luke couldn’t help but smirk and gives him a little advice. She is a slaver; she will not cower before him. It is not in her nature.

Luke wasn’t entirely sure how the conversation ended, but it eventually did and Dooku had led him out of the room with a squad of droids. Backup? Perhaps. It didn’t matter. Dooku held the cards for now.

One of the droids opened a door and Dooku gestured for him to step inside. As they entered the room, Luke realized what it was. It was some sort of training room, something large and wide, with very few things that could hinder any movement. And as they did, a familiar hilt filled his vision. It was Ben’s saber.

“You do not have a lightsaber,” the Count noted. Well, wasn’t that obvious, Luke thought to himself, trying to temper the sarcasm that he felt was rolling off his tongue in waves. There was a reason he had been using Ben’s lightsaber. Sure, he was used to it, but then again, if he had his own, he would probably be used to that one as well.

“No.”

“But you are well acquainted on how to use one,” he continued his obvious statements, which irked the teenager a little bit. Gee, you think? Of course, he knew how to use one, Dooku had told him he had reviewed the footage of some of his fight with Krell. And he used a saber during the battle.

But Luke only shrugged. “Lit up end away from me. Stab. Swish, swish.”

Dooku looked down at him, unimpressed and skeptical with something else, something that made him think he was seeing through Luke’s façade. This was a bit different than the prim and perfectly mannered young man that had shared a meal with him the day prior. Would it put the Count off his game with the whiplash? Ah, Luke didn’t know, in particular, but it was rather fun.

“I suppose then, you will be needing this,” he replied instead, stiffly as he offered the saber. Luke quicky took hold of it, his fingers curling around the familiar grooves with a practiced motion. The Count just watched, curious.

“What do you want?”

“I would like to see an exhibition of your skills.”

“Why?”

“I am interested in seeing the difference between you and Skywalker, since you have both been trained by Kenobi.”

The difference. The difference. There was a lot. Luke was his father’s son, perhaps, and at one point, Luke would have absolutely relished in the similarities between his father and himself. At that one point, Luke used to desperately try to find those connections and comparisons. But after Luke knew the truth, after he knew what his father was and what he had become, Luke had just as desperately tried to find differences and distinctions. How hard it was, being in the biological lineage of such a monster.

Luke wondered how Ben would take it, waking up to a former padawan that wasn’t quite yet a monstrous maniac. How would he react then? Luke wasn’t sure how he felt about it at the moment. He had spent so much of his life wanting so much to know his father but finding out what he had become and what he had done, had been rather difficult. “I am your prisoner, not your entertainment,” Luke huffed as he narrowed his eyes.

“As my… prisoner. I hold all the cards,” Dooku replied, calmly, unperturbed by Luke’s scowl. “Behind that door,” he gestured across the room and Luke followed the movement with his eyes. “Are your clone troopers.”

Luke perked visibly. He couldn’t help it.

Droids came out from the sides of the room as Dooku continued. Luke just eyed them warily, trying not to move to look at them more directly. “The droids have been ordered to take that room and kill whoever is inside.”

Luke froze.

Dooku had known he had won this conflict, just as Luke glanced away in an unavoidable show of his defeat. “If you would prefer them still breathing, I suggest you do what I say and fight.”

He leaned closer.

“Their lives depend on it.”

Luke’s eyes were suddenly locked onto Dooku, cold and calculating for any signs of it being a bluff. He couldn’t take that chance. In the moment, Luke’s face became washed in the blue light of Ben’s lightsaber blade. He turned, spinning it around in a stretch and experiment as he surveyed the scene. At the moment, the droids were only B1s, he realized as his mind started up quickly as he scanned the area. Not any other kinds but he doubted it would stay that way.

Dooku was testing him.

Like leapt high into the fray, a perfect Aratu jump whirling Ben’s saver around in flawless arcs, his blade hitting his intended marks. He quickly made his way towards the door, taking out any droid he could. He had to take up a defensive position, wait them out, he thought, nearly hysterical.

He couldn’t let them die; he had been working so hard to keep them alive.

Boil. Boil. Boil.

Waxer. Waxer. Waxer.

Rex. Fives. Jesse. Tup. Check.

His silent chanted in his mind as he ruthlessly slashes through droids, trying to calculate everything in his head. Anger and frustration built up in his chest. He felt like was getting nowhere.

Something started to whisper.

Something dark and oily, with promises that weren’t verbal or understandable but somehow, he knew the intent. He stabbed a droid, his saber plunging down vertically and then viciously ripped it out, taking the head of another incoming. He had to calm down.

“There is no passion,” he exhaled, unsteady. “There is serenity.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, nearly reaching a semi good defensive position, he spotted Count Dooku frown.

The droids were thinning.

The victory did not last.

Out of the side doors, several B2 droids stormed in, already firing relentlessly. Luke leapt and landed on one, crushing it with his weight and saber, slicing through another nearby. He grinned. Dooku was going to be disappointed.

“There is no chaos,” he recited, feeling his heart slow into something enduring and steady. “There is harmony.”

Scattering few were left. Rolling droids screamed in, just a couple. Luke racked his brain for information. He didn’t remember what they were called but single shields, vulnerable when moving. He needed to figure a way to defend his position and destroy them. The boy forced pushed into another that landed them in a wall and went to attack the third type of droid. Running a bit further from the door was a risk but it worked. The droids folded up to move and chase. He dispatched them with swift grace.

Luke turned to grin at Dooku, a bit smug.

A single eyebrow was raised.

The teenager raised a hand, just a bit, and clenched his fist. Behind him, two droids strung up in the air by an invisible force and folded in on themselves, crushed. There was none left.

“Adequate,” Dooku acknowledged but he sounded a bit miffed.

Luke ignored him and ran to the door to check on his troopers. He stopped just as Count Dooku spoke, somehow making his voice louder without changing the tone or intonation.

“We are not done.”

Luke spun around, shoulders bristling and eyes blazing. This seemed to garner Dooku’s attention. “I did your stupid test. You said I could see them.”

“I did not,” Dooku replied and paused as the familiar traitorous besalisk came in sauntering like he owned the pace. He looked better than before, when he had been seen at dinner. The bruises from their fight had healed up and the stump where one of his arms used to be was cleanly bandaged. Luke narrowed his eyes.

“Oh look, it’s the traitor,” he grumbled, irritably.

Count Dooku allowed himself a smirk as he swept over to the former jedi to speak with him. He looked rather pleased with himself, like this was something he arranged, but trying to pass it off as chance. Luke knew better. He had almost certainly arranged this. “Ah… Krell. Just in time.”

“In time?” Krell asked.

“Would you like a rematch?”

“A rematch?”

If Krell didn’t stop echoing Count Dooku, Luke thought he might scream.

“With the young man who took your arm.” Krell realized what was being said and turned towards Luke, something gleeful and hungry in his eyes, as he figured out what was wanted from him. And it was something he was certainly happy to do it appeared. Not only a chance to beat Luke down in an environment where he would be superior, but also show off in front of the count.

Oh kriff.

Luke suppressed a wince and flared a glare at him instead to mask it. “I’d be delighted,” Krell practically purred. The teenager tried not to gag.

Luke’s eyes swept the room again. There was barely anything around here could actually use, much less something to his advantage. Discreetly, he swallowed. His chances for winning this one was even lower than the first time.

“Master Krell will get to kill what is behind that door,” Dooku added, gesturing to the door Luke had been defending. “If he defeats you.”

Luke’s heart raced.

Oh. OH.

It was easy to see Dooku’s game. He wanted Luke desperate, angry willing to do anything to save the troopers.

Dooku wanted him to use the dark side.

Or worse. Fall.

Ever since Luke had wrapped his head around who his father was, he had made a vow.

He would never Fall.

He wasn’t going to break that bow. Ever.

He won’t do that to Ben.

Krell didn’t seem to get it but then again, he probably didn’t know what was behind the door either. Luke took a deep breath.

In for four.

Out for seven.

In for four.

Out for eight.

Krell lit a saber, something sickly and bloody red. Dooku glanced at it, his face barely twitching. The besalisk grinned, a bit wild and more than a bit pleased.

Defensive position, Luke thought to start. He didn’t have to wait long for Krell to come at him. Even down an arm and with only one lightsaber, he was fast and strong. Luke could only try to be ready. It was just as hard as the last time, though, especially at the beginning, trying to defend against his barrage of attacks and blows. Krell’s physical strength was several times his own, with their respective species and Luke tried to calculate the best mix and match of moves and styles to meet him with between strikes.

Predictably, where Krell had strength and size that loomed over his opponent, Luke had speed and agility, moving in between the twirls of the saber, just at the right moment, which was absolutely crucial. Luke thought himself lucky. He was trained by Ben, a duelist whose greatest skill with a lightsaber was his impenetrable shield, not giving his opponent an opening to strike or move. Luke wasn’t as good at it, of course, but working with Ben and working with that style, he had to learn quickly where he could find and get through that type of shield and movements where there often appeared to be none.

Luke could find openings to at least avoid strikes, even with Ben. Avoiding Krell’s saber moves were practically easy in comparison.

Krell’s experience was an asset and a strength. The besalisk had been training since birth, he had decades on Luke of nonstop and constant training. Luke, however, quick to learn, had started late and wasn’t taught in the same environment. Ben didn’t have as much time to teach him, especially in the confines of their little ship. If he and Krell were in another environment, Luke might have been able to use his surroundings to his advantage. He may have had a chance.

He didn’t know how long the duel had lasted. He was pretty sure he had stood his own longer than he thought, but as all things, it had come to an end. In his case, hard, fast and cruel. Luke had a lot of endurance, Ben had certainly made sure of that, both physically and in the Force. Of course, his strength and connection to it, as it had rapidly grown over the years, had helped as well. Maybe Luke could have won this one, if things had been different.

But he was rather lucky Count Dooku seemed to want him alive.

Luke had been knocked to the ground, roughly, and a blade came down on his head. Upon rolling out of the way, he could feel the heat sizzle as it hit the floor instead, next to him. He blocked a few more blows but couldn’t seem to buy enough time to get up off the floor. Krell used the Force to make him rise before pushing him into the wall so hard it rattled his skull.

A red blade came down upon him again and Luke just couldn’t-

“Enough.”

Luke wasn’t sure what was happening, but Krell’s blade twisted and instead of cutting through his head, the saber scraped and grazed the opening between his gorget and his pauldron. Luke couldn’t help but let out a cry. It hurt, it was searing, and he could feel Krell’s satisfaction. Was it because he had beat Luke? Was it because he had wounded him? The boy tried to swallow down the pain, reaching out for the Force, for something, anything.

It helped soothe the pain, at least.

“You were meant to spar, not kill him,” Dooku’s lip curled in a bit of distaste, but his voice remained as poised and flat as always.

Krell just scoffed and let Luke fall to the ground, his back rubbing down the wall. Luke just tried to catch his breath as the besalisk’s attention went to the Count. “He’s not even Kenobi’s padawan. What could you possible want with this welp?”

Dooku’s eyes were cold but vaguely interested, like he saw something different. Luke didn’t even wait a moment more. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder, and ran to the door. He opened it and…

No one was in there.

Luke couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

“You lied to me.”

“A gamble,” Dooku strode up next to him and shrugged. “Jedi are soft-hearted fools, and they often pass that sentiment onto their children.”

Luke didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say.

“But you aren’t a jedi.”

He hated that Dooku was right. Ultimately, however, it didn’t matter. He would live like a jedi. To his last breath. And perhaps, even after.

“You do not use your full strength,” Dooku hummed as he continued. “If you had, it would have given you some advantage.” He didn’t say whether that advantage would have led him to victory or not. And it didn’t really matter.

“My full strength?”

“Your blows could be much more powerful, if you are open to it.”

“You mean if I open up to the dark side,” Luke guessed.

“There is far more power than the jedi are willing to open to,” Dooku replied, his eyes flashing with something so quick, he almost missed it.

Luke just heard Krell scowl. He didn’t know if the former jedi was listening or even heard them, but he didn’t like them speaking to one another. If he was looking for accolades, Luke thought, a bit petty, he would have to look elsewhere. It almost made him chuckle, as it was rather amusing. He wondered when the besalisk would finally get it.

Dooku didn’t want Pong Krell. He was pretty sure the Sith wanted Luke.

Luke just smirked to himself, out of the sight of the count. Dooku would end up rather disappointed.

Luke would never fall.

“Congratulations,” Dooku’s assistant said to Krell, monotone with a bit of flatness thrown in for good measure. Luke couldn’t tell if she meant it or not. “You just beat a fifteen-year-old non-jedi child in a duel of strength.”

Maybe not.

Krell just scowled again.

She turned, mechanically, towards her master. “My Lord, we are approaching Zygerrian space. We should be there within the hour.”

Dooku nodded and swiped Ben’s saber from Luke’s hand before the boy could even try to keep it away. Pain raced down his chest and shoulders, through his arm. “We will be having dinner with the Zygerrian Queen,” he informed him, briskly. “I expect you to join. You will not attempt to flee or contact the Republic. Do not even think about it. Do not speak unless directly spoken to. Any attempts at sabotage – at any level – will result in the torture and expectation of the clone troopers. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“My assistant will take you back to our room,” he continued, calmly. “You are to shower and dress with what is laid before you. She will give you some bacta for your wound. Clean it well. You will go to the bridge and await arrival,” Dooku added. “Understood?”

“Yes, of course lord,” Luke grumbled as he tried to temper his glare. “I do want something from you.”

“You may request.”

“I want confirmation about my troopers, that they haven’t been harmed.”

“My word isn’t enough?”

Luke snorted.

“Alright. I will send for my assistant to arrange someone to come by with proof,” he said after a long moment. “As I said, if you do anything, I will kill them.”

Luke grinned at him, all blood and teeth. “I understand. But Count, you should also know. If anything happens to them, you will not only lose my cooperation, but you may find that you lose more appendages than you care to miss.”

With a swish of his cape and a gesture for Krell to follow, Dooku was gone, leaving Luke, weaponless, surrounded by destroyed battle droids and an evil subordinate. She did not waste time, as she turned towards the door, barely pausing to ensure his path to follow. He just sighed and obeyed, trying to keep the pain as dull and to a minimum as he could. Not a word was spoken on their way back. As they reached the destination, she gave him instructions and a map to the bridge. Other areas were to be locked and or blocked off to him.

“It would be prudent to travel straight to your destination.” She gave him a small package and then she was gone.

Luke stripped, slow and methodical, carefully stacking his armor pieces neatly on the bed. He winced as he looked at them. They were in a bit of rough shape. He felt a little bad for taking them without asking.

But it had saved his life at the very least once on Umbara.

His finger trailed a gouge in the gorget as he set it down on the sheets. He took off his robes, sweaty, damp and dirty and folded them neatly. Taking deep and soothing breathes, he stepped into the shower and turned it to water. It was nice to get the sand out of his hair from the storm he and Ben had been stuck in and to wash the blood from his skin. Although he had wrapped the saber wound, it still hurt something awful as he showered. He didn’t take an abnormally long time, as eight years on Tatooine had instilled a need to conserve water, whether he meant to or not. He still used it instead of the sonic, however. It may have been rather petty but he kind of thought to use some of it so there would be less for Dooku and whatever other sentients were aboard.

He stepped out and grabbed a towel, drying himself off rather thoroughly. He rubbed and shook excess water from his hair and then washed his face. It had been quite some time since he had felt this clean. The shower was nice.

Luke got a hold of the bacta and put it over the lightsaber graze. The immediate feeling was agony at contact, and he leaned over the counter with a low, pained, groan. It took a few moments for the bacta to release some relief. After several moments of catching his breath and regaining himself, he left the lavatory and ran his eyes over the clothes that had been set out. His lip curled, subtly. Dark, ornate, high collar. Fancy.

Luke just rolled his eyes but conceded and carefully put them on. He couldn’t just play with the men’s lives, especially not with something so trivial as clothes. They were a bit large, he noted. He wondered who they had been originally made for. Luke winced. Oh, he was going to look a bit like Dooku, wasn’t he? The thought was a mite repulsive.

As he finished buttoning up, he looked down at the stack of armor pieces, his eyes once again tracing over every scratch and gouge. He had made a mess of it, he thought. He almost wished he was on a more conventional battlefield. Not this battle of wit and manipulation.

He needed a plan.

He wanted Ben.

Taking a few minutes to just breathe and mingle with the Force, he reached out – both in it and physically – grabbed hold of the pauldron.

He near dropped it immediately, his knees plummeting to the floor, alongside his breath.

Because… because…

Could it be?

It had to be.

He didn’t know how he knew but it just had to be.

Ben was alive. And he was awake.

He was coming. Luke was sure of it.

Even though he wanted to, for in search of the troopers, he went straight to the bridge. No one stopped him. Droids barely cast him a glance. He paused at the door of the room, far enough that it would not open automatically as of yet. He took a deep breath.

“There is not emotion,” he breathed. “There is peace.”

Luke might have laughed if the situation was not so dire. He loved the look on Count Dooku’s face. If only he could freeze it, to show it to Ben. It wouldhave made him laugh and Luke would have loved it.

“I told you to wear that was set out for you.” Count Dooku said, stiff with a click of his jaw. Of course, no one could quite tell what the count was thinking, least of all Luke, but one thing was for certain, he was not particularly happy.

“And I am.”

Goodness, he was such a smartass.

“You are wearing plastoid clone armor,” Dooku pointed out, clearly disapproving of that fact.

“I am your prisoner, Count, not your ally. It would be best to make sure others know, don’t you think? So, they don’t get the wrong ideas?” he suggested, slyly.

And there it was. The barest hint of a scowl. Was it bad that it felt like a victory? There was nothing more to say after that and Luke could only follow as the Count went to one of his ships. It was a little larger than his single fighter, as they were joined by the assistant and the former jedi traitor. The ride down was quiet. And no little amount of awkward and terrible.

Zygerria is…not beautiful. And that is Luke saying that who had found even some beauty in his home planet of Tatooine, one of near complete desert. There is something about the buildings, about the atmosphere that puts Luke on edge. He knows it is a slave planet, probably even more so than the home planet that he knows personally.

They landed near the palace, a giant building that towered above all others and stretched quite far. Krell kept a very strict eye on him as they walked through, Zygerrians in armor milling around. Dooku barely paid him any attention. He knew for a fact that Luke wouldn’t try anything.

Led into the throne room, a Zygerrian woman sat high above. The throne was rather ridiculous with a multitude of steps. Luke hoped they didn’t have to go up all of them. It would take forever.

He was kept out of the way by Dooku’s assistant as he spoke, prim and proper and nothing else. Luke could hear the distain, but it was covered quite thoroughly with flattery and demand. As he continued to speak, the besalisk traitor at his side, Luke looked around and studied the soldiers and guards, looking for weakness in both them and the building in him. He had to figure out where the troopers were.

By the time he came back to the present, most had disappeared, including Krell and many of the guards. The Queen had looked at him, her piercing eyes seeming to look straight into him. He shuttered. With a single finger – talon? – she gestured him over. Count Dooku stiffened and took a step back.

Swallowing harshly, Luke strode over.

“And who might you be?”

Luke tried not to gag and wrinkle his nose. He’d almost be anywhere but here at the moment. But he kept a great façade of delight and respect. She would get nothing from him. Her accent was grating, but that could be his bias against slave traders, which could only make him feel worse as he knows she is the queen of them. “Luke,” he introduced as he bowed. “Your grace.”

“Your majesty,” she corrected. There was a smile on her face, something faint and vaguely amused. The slight was not taken too badly, probably because of his young age and perceived naivety. But that did not mean he wouldn’t go above and beyond with his excuses.

“A thousand apologies, your majesty,” Luke amended, as he laid it on thick after the slight as he gave a bow. It was stiff and just deep enough to not continue the disrespect. He was holding himself so tense he thought he might just snap in half. “I cannot claim to have had the privilege of visiting, your lovely planet before.”

“It is a good thing you are here, now, isn’t it, child?” she giggled, light and faint. It was the perfect sound coming from a queen, but he just could not stand it; he couldn’t even stand the sight of her, much less the sound of her voice. “Even if you are a Republic agent.”

Luke just smiled, keeping his voice level and calm, just like Ben had taught him. Don’t show anything aside from what they want to know. “I fight with the troopers, that is all there is to it.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, he was fighting alongside the clone troopers, even if it had just been one battle.

“Perhaps we can persuade you otherwise.”

“I am a mere prisoner of Serenno’s count,” he admitted with his smile continuing to be a bit tight and tense. He had to think of something and fast. These people thought of power and money and little else. Contracts, contracts. “Loyalty cannot be bought over once a contract is sighed.”

Count Dooku raised an eyebrow.

He thought Luke slipped up, the teenager realized. Gave him information that he could use. Perhaps he did. But Luke thought about that, even as he made up his words, he wouldn’t find anything. There was nothing Dooku could get out of it, unless he tried to torture it out of Luke. There was no paper trail to find or follow. It was a contract to himself, to the Force, to Ben. A vow. Luke’s loyalty was to not be swayed.

“A child with honor,” she mused with a smirk. She found that amusing, he could tell. He hated the way she said it, like it was something pathetic and stupid, juvenile. “How intriguing. Would you like to join us for dinner? The talk may be dreadfully boring, but the food will be rather delightful.”

“I relish the opportunity to expand my palette,” he replied as he straightened his back. He kept his eyes just barely below her line of sight. And there was at least some truth to that. He did like trying new foods. “I am to go wherever the Count wills at this time.”

“Count?” The Queen questioned as her gaze swept over towards the Sith several meters behind and to the right of him. Luke glanced back at him with something in his eye that could only be interpreted as impish, like Luke was up to something. The Count’s back was absolutely straight, and his expression gave away absolutely nothing.

“He will be in attendance, your majesty.”

“Excellent,” she practically purred. “I look forward to it.”

Luke didn’t. In fact, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be attending at all.

Count Dooku tossed him in a room, gave him some instructions and notifications and then left. Luke just sighed. He wasn’t entirely sure what exactly the Count wanted from him. It didn’t take long, however, for Luke to find a way out of the room and take it he did.

The palace itself was difficult to navigate, but first things first. He reached out in the Force. What he was looking for was something he knew well, something that sang to him, which made it easier to follow. Ben had taught him long ago how to use the Force to keep others’ attention away from him and although he still used it, he also physically tried to keep out of sight of the guards and soldiers.

He found it in a room, possibly Dooku’s guest room, possibly not. It was hard to tell. Luke was just glad that the Count didn’t have it on him. No, Ben’s lightsaber was sitting on a dresser in the room, next to some paperwork. Grabbing the light saber of his guardian, he shoved it deep into his robes, out of sight and paused, before grabbing the paper too. Perhaps it would be helpful in some way. Then he slipped out of the door. Going back down the hall, the voice he heard…he would never forget it. He had never heard the Sith’s voice before, not in his time, but he knows it. And for the first time, he just cannot move.

“Long has Sith empires been built on the backs of slaves,” a man drawled. Luke swallowed and glanced around the corner through the door, just barely. He quickly spun back, so he was not to be seen. He was wearing a cloak in the holo call, something wrinkly and old underneath it. “To carry on this tradition…we will require… millions.”

He was talking about slaves. Slaves.

Luke had seen firsthand how the Sith’s plans had come to fruition. He would not let it happen this time. Not when he was around, armed with the knowledge to stop it. Whether or not he had the ability, it didn’t matter. He had to try.

“I assure the Queen’s defiance will not sour your plans,” Dooku assured.

The Sith practically scoffed. “If she fails to see the error of her ways, end her rule.”

Luke didn’t wait a moment further. He quickly ran off, trying to keep his noise to an absolute minimum. He held his breath in until he got a plenty amount of way, he let it out, nearly hyperventilating. Because he got the breath out, he had a hard time getting it back in. It took him several minutes to recatch his breath. He stood up with the help of the wall.

“I don’t think you are supposed to be out here, kiddo,” a female voice called out from behind him, and Luke turned around to face her, keeping himself slower and calm to not bring up any more suspicion. She was leaning causally against the wall, by a corner, appearing fairly unperturbed with a smirk stretching her lips. Short hair, a jumpsuit, some necklace that dipped underneath the first layer of her clothes.

“Why do you think that?” he asked, rearranging his posture to make it seem like he wasn’t caught off guard, that he was supposed to be there. It didn’t really work.

“Smooth,” she chuckled as she shook her head. “I can’t imagine the Separatists or their allies willingly letting a jedi roam around,” she pointed out.

A gamble.

“I am not a jedi.”

She looked curious and unconvinced, but still amused. “Right,” she drawled as she stood up from the lean against the wall. She took a step towards him, and it took everything he had not to step back. “I’m actually here for you.”

“Oh?”

“You wanted an update on your troopers.”

Luke perked; he couldn’t help it. It may have given him away, but she appeared to know about him anyways. “Dooku sent you?”

She shrugged. “Sort of. Not really.”

“Are you going to snitch on me?” he asked, warily.

She cackled in a short laugh, like she found that concept absolutely hilarious. There was more to her than met the eye. He wondered who she was, and, if he had an ally in her. “Nah kid. Let’s go to your room to talk though.”

“I can’t see them?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?” he asked, suspicious and anger bristling in his shoulders. He was frustrated. It had been near over a day since he had been able to see the troopers and he wanted to know if they were alright. That Dooku hadn’t done something horrible to them the moment his back had been forced to turn. He was trying to keep them alive, and it was incredibly discouraging, and infuriating being blocked at every turn.

She sighed and gestured down the hall for him to follow her. “Come on.”

Grudgingly, he followed her. He didn’t have much of a choice. He may not have liked it but there was little he could do. She kept walking and he just tried to study her. The more time passed on, the more Luke was convinced he knew her.

“You aren’t one of Dooku’s people.”

“Nope.”

“You aren’t a Zygerrian.”

“What gave it away?” she chuckled.

He snorted. “Who are you?”

“Zora.”

“Any last name to that?”

She shot him a grin. “Does it really matter?”

He huffed, pushing down the growing irritation. For this, for what was happening, for Dooku and Krell and all the things he was going through. Things he could not yet change. “Maybe. You aren’t a Zygerrian or one of Dooku’s people so who are you?”

“I told you. Zora.”

He sighed, exasperated.

She surprised him with her next question. “Are you from the 501st or the 212th?”

“What?”

“You have 501stand 212th troopers with you,” she noted.

“How…?”

“Which one is yours?”

“Neither?”

“Whose padawan are you?”

“Spy or jedi?”

She startled, but just barely. He probably wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t been taught by Ben, who was very good at picking up cues of possible allies and possible enemies. “Be careful kid. Accusations like that can get you or anyone else, killed.”

Luke rolled his eyes as they got back to his room. As if he didn’t know that. But this, he was sick of not getting answers out of anyone. She started to look around, hands running along the walls and table. He stayed silent.

Zora, on the other hand, had no such inclinations. “So, ah…you didn’t answer my question. Whose padawan are you?” she asked, glancing over at him with a knowing smirk.

“Do I looklike I have any semblance of a padawan braid?” he grumbled, resentfully. He couldn’t quite help it. It was easier to not be, at least when Ben was around and teaching him and just being there. Even if he wasn’t actually Ben’s padawan, it was hard not to be upset about it. It’s what he wanted so much, for so long. He didn’t dare think of the possibilities, being in this time with the Order around.

“Oooohhh,” Zora smirked again, her eyebrows waggling in knowing. She didn’t understand, obviously, because no one really could. Not with his situation, really, but there was something about her that was different. Luke had to know her from somewhere. Somehow. “Someone is a little bitter. Left, kicked out or not chosen?” she asked, continuing to go through the room, opening drawer and checking the things inside.

He stiffened, still standing in the middle of the room, his gaze hardening. “I never really had a chance.” That was truth, not that she could get what he was saying. There was no jedi where he is from. Or rather, when. Hunted and killed off for having an ability with the Force. For trying to help people. All because two beings wanted everything, put what they wanted above millions and trillions of lives.

“Ooookkkkaaayyyy,” she drawled out again but something in her face sobered up. He fought himself, trying to go through all of Ben’s stories on who this could possibly be. It had to be someone Ben told him about. That was the only explanation. “What are you doing with those troopers?”

“Fighting.”

“Not a jedi, not a clone. Too young to be an officer. Who are you?”

“Luke.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m Luke.”

“You can’t be that dense,” she muttered and then stopped trifling through the room but there was a smirk. She saw what he was doing. Throwing her answers back in her face with his own, mirroring it. “Okay, we are clean.”

“Clean? We?”

“There aren’t any bugs or cameras,” she supplied and walked closer, pulling up a chair and sitting down. She gestured for him to do the same. He paused but obeyed, sitting in front of her so he could study her features, trying to figure out what he wanted to know. “So that means we can speak freely, although admittedly, still a bit quiet and careful. Who are you?”

“Luke.”

She groaned and sighed, leaning on the back of her chair. She was projecting some kind of mix of amusement and irritation. “Come on kid. Give me something to work with!”

“Are you a spy or jedi?”

She looked back at him, surprised. “What?”

“Spy or jedi?”

“What makes you think-,” she started but after a moment she just sighed again. She ran a hand through her short hair, glancing around, as if worried. Even though she had checked the room for listening devices and cameras, she was still a bit paranoid. “Both, I suppose.”

“A shadow,” he supplied with his guess. Ben had told him plenty about them, several of his friends and acquaintances went that route. “That narrows it down.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. It did. If she knew Ben, he could figure out who she was.

“Do I know you?”

“No.”

“But you know me.”

“Not exactly. I might know of you. I’m not sure,” he admitted, truthfully.

“Well, you aren’t giving your identity and I’m not ready to give up mine so we can skip that for now. Why were you sneaking around? You weren’t escaping and if anyone caught you…big trouble. What was worth the risk?” She was curious, for certain, trying to discern something from him.

He hesitated and produced Ben’s light saber hidden deep in his robes.

She gasped but immediately tried to stifle it. He knew, she knew. “That’s…”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi’s lightsaber, yes,” he said, his mouth now dry so his voice came out in some of a bit of a croak. Zora looked between him and the saber multiple times, trying to keep her eyes from widening so much.

“How did you get that?” she hissed with vigor. Luke blinked; he wasn’t exactly expecting that. “How did get Dooku get this? Is he…” she trailed off, uncertain. She couldn’t ask the question.

“He’s not here,” Luke replied, and he was silently so thankful that he wasn’t. On one hand, he could definitely use Ben’s help. He could just use him around. But, Luke didn’t know what state he was in and he certainly did not want Count Dooku to take any type of advantage of his guardian. “And he’s not dead as far as I know. He should be on his own ship, safe.”

“But his saber…” she murmured.

“It’s a long story,” he replied instead. Really, he just didn’t want to explain it. He had suspicions about who she was, but he couldn’t be sure yet, he had to wait and think. There was something about her voice, how she spoke when she saw Ben’s saber…. He shook his head. “You said something about my troopers?”

She glanced at him with renewed skepticism. Probably not the right terms, he thought. He wasn’t technically part of either group. “Well, they are all alive and unharmed,” she said bringing out a clunky comm and laid it in his hand. “Two number comm, direct line. You can’t see them, so you’ll have to take it on word that they are not injured.”

He nodded and swallowed, dialing.

They picked up a little slow.

Luke’s anxiety spiked. “H-Hello?”

A pause.

“Waxer? Are you there?”

Finally, finally. “Thank everything that is good, you are alive kid.” It was Waxer’s voice; Luke could identify it. He had paid so much attention to his voice since he had met him, Luke thought he could very possibly pick him out of a group of anyone. Identical faces or voices or not. Whatever, it didn’t matter. He had made a point to know his voice as best he could. Boil’s best friend.

“Waxer,” Luke sighed in relief as he realized with a fond smile. He almost felt like he was going to start crying from relief. He had near thought he would never be able to get to even just talk to them again. “I’m okay,” he promised. “Dooku talked with me, nothing too bad, and then locked me in a room by myself. I’m on Zygerria now.” He didn’t tell him about the Krell rematch; there was no reason to worry them.

“So are we,” another voice made its way through. Gruffer, more solid.

“Rex,” Luke said as he took a moment to put his finger on the voice. “Is everyone there? Are you alright? Dooku didn’t harm you, did he?”

“Dooku didn’t do anything,” Rex vowed.

“Can we do a roll call?”

“Uh…kiddo, we sound all the same,” someone chuckled, uneasily.

“Er… not exactly…” Luke admitted with a smile, but he felt a bit uncomfortable with the line of talk and conversation. “I can tell. I promise. “Please?”

“I’m here, as you know,” Waxer said, his voice kind and soft. Luke relished in the feeling, and he thought he would never get used to the intonation. He completely understood why this person was Boil’s best friend.

“And you heard me, Rex,” the captain replied.

“Yes,” Luke nodded.

“Boys?” Rex called, a bit quiet, like he was further away from the comm.

“Checkerboard reporting, sir.”

“Fives,” another grumbled.

“Jesse.”

“Tup,” his voice was a tad bit timid.

“Okay,” Luke sighed again in relief. That was all of them, that was all of them. That was a good to have that reassurance. “Okay. Good. Good.”

“How…how are you talking to us, Luke? Who is listening?”

“No worries,” Luke said, quickly, shooting a glance at his companion. “Just a jedi shadow. We are okay. Look,” he started, suppressing a wince at his lack of a current workable plan. “I’m trying to work on a plan to get us out of here. Since we are on planet and not in space, it might be easier.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“I’m no explosives expert,” he hummed in admittance. “But with the things I can scrounge up here, I think I can make a distraction. A pretty big distraction.”

“I like the way you’re thinking, sir,” Jesse replied, and Luke knew he was grinning. He rolled his eyes.

“Zygerria is a slave planet,” Rex replied, his voice slow and careful. “We won’t find any allies here or a way to get off the planet, easily.”

“The Republic is coming,” Luke vowed. And he knew it.

“How do you know?”

“I passed intel to the Council,” Zora leaned in so her voice would come through. “They know about Dooku, and they know that you are here too,” Zora explained. “They should be on their way here. A day, tops.”

“Even if they have both the 501st and the 212th at full strength, I don’t think they can take a planet like this,” the voice, Rex, he was pretty sure, sounded unsure, probably in turn of the unknown newcomer.

Luke swallowed. “Ben has been through this before. He knows.”

“What?” Fives startled.

“Ben?” Zora muttered, questioningly.

“Luke, General Kenobi is in a coma,” Waxer pointed out, gentle and patient.

Zora startled, sudden and she stared at him, eyes wider than he had seen anyone. She was shocked, worried. She knew him, she knew Ben. Which meant that Luke knew him. He must have heard of her from Ben’s stories. That makes her identity easier to determine. “What?” she whispered. “Obi…”

Luke tried to ignore her for now. He didn’t have the time to confront her or anything right now. He had to focus on the troopers and their escape. “He will come. I know it. I have faith in the Force, and I have faith in him.”

There was pause of silence and a sigh.

“Okay. I get you. Me too, I have faith in General Kenobi,” Waxer replied.

“And I’m not sure how much information Master Vos got from Ben with his psychometry,” Luke added. “But that might help too.”

“Psycho…?”

“Obnoxiously Long Explanations. They can come later,” Luke vowed, waving his hand. “Suffice to say, he will come.”

“Alright,” Rex said. “I believe you.”

“We do,” Tup added.

There was a scowl.

“You are hiding things.” Luke couldn’t quite make out the name of the clone for a long moment, but he went through what he knew about all of them and finally came to conclusion. The speaker had been Fives. Curious, intelligent, persistent and stubborn.

“If we make it out of this alive, I will tell you all you want to know, Fives,” Luke vowed, absolutely serious. Hopefully they would survive this. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about telling any of the 501st about what was happening, especially those close to Anakin Skywalker, but it was a price he could pay for their trust and cooperation.

Another silence and then concede. “Alright.”

“You didn’t tell him.”

Waxer didn’t know who spoke but there was an accusatory undertone. It was noted. He didn’t look around at them, just stared at the comm. “I didn’t want him getting upset to lose focus,” Waxer tried to refute. He kept a hold of the comm that had been given to them, his fingers curling over the surface. This was such a mess.

“You think that would upset him so much?” That was Check, Waxer knew. The undertone of his voice was a bit touched but there was no little amount of worry coming from. Waxer wasn’t entirely sure how to explain without saying everything that he knew.

“He’s from Tatooine,” Waxer croaked.

“So?”

Rex eyed him warily. He knew something, understood something, some kind of inference he got from Waxer’s statement. Waxer felt his heart speed up a little. He knew that Luke didn’t want others to know right now what was happening, he had made a note to keep it from the 501st. Waxer wasn’t entirely sure why, but he had quickly learned he could trust Luke. But Rex knew something, and Waxer couldn’t help but be worried on how much he would have figured out. It wasn’t all too surprising; Rex was smart and Cody loved him. “It is a slave planet,” Rex noted.

“Was he…”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Waxer responded quickly, staring at Rex directly in the eye. They kept eye contact for some time. “But Luke joined the battle on Umbara in an attempt to keep me alive. He had never been in a battle or war like that before, but he just jumped in. What do you think he would do if he found out about us now, in the situation we are facing?”

“He can’t care that much,” someone said. Waxer was still staring at Rex, so he wasn’t entirely sure who had responded to him. The skepticism was clear, but Waxer knew better. He knew how Luke talked about them, all excited. He knew the way he had ran and jumped and practically tackled Boil when he saw them on their ship, so happy and so excited to see him again. Waxer had little trouble realizing how much Luke loved in general. How much Luke cared about them already.

“Trust me. He does,” Waxer finally pulled his eyes away from Rex and sat down on the ground, his armor creaking. He imagined they would soon be taken to a facility and have the armor stripped from them and he dreads that moment. The uneasy and uncomfortable feeling that comes with not wearing armor in a hostile environment is not a pleasant one.

“What does that mean?”

“Fives…” Rex warned. Waxer saw him out of the corner of his eye. The captain’s brow furrowed

“I am sick of all the cryptic words and lies!” Fives pressed. “He knows something, and it makes me think, you know about it too, Captain.”

Rex swallowed. “I don’t know much.”

“But you know something.”

“Luke said he would tell you everything you want to know later,” Waxer said.

“Why can’t you just tell us now!?”

“You really think this is the best place for secrets?”

Every one of them snapped their mouths shut when the door opened and several Zygerrians came in, including the one that had technically bought them. It took a while, as the troopers weren’t the most compliant, but the Zygerrians did force them out of the room and into another. Waxer had a bad feeling about this.

“I hear you have secrets,” one of them said in a heavy accent.

“Our allies will pay well for Republic secrets,” another hissed.

Oh kriff.

“I think I know who you are.”

The words came out of Luke’s mouth before his mind had caught up with him. He and Zora had collected a few things for their rather, a bit explosive, plan and were scurrying around the halls, to enact it. They hadn’t talked much about other things aside from said plan during the time, but Luke was having a hard time keeping quiet. He just had to know.

“Oh?” Zora asked, rather amused. “Funny, I am pretty sure I don’t know you.”

“You wouldn’t,” he shrugged. “It is a rather long story. But Ben has told me a lot about many of his friends.”

“Ben as in…Obi-Wan…” she said slowly. She carefully placed an explosive near a column, out of sight. It would be hard to find it before it would be detonated. They had to be careful. Once it was done, they momentarily hid, away from a coming patrol of guards.

“Yes,” Luke whispered an affirmation.

“How do you know him?”

“Obnoxiously Long Explanation.”

“I heard you tell one of the clones that,” she noted. “What does that mean?”

“Just as it says. It’s kind of a game that Ben and I have played,” Luke explained, vaguely but there was a fond smile on his lips as he thought about all the times he had gone through that with Ben. Zora had obviously noticed.

“I didn’t know Obi-Wan had taken on another padawan,” she suggested.

Luke glanced away with a frown. “He didn’t,” he muttered. “Come on.” He gestured for her to follow as he moved through the halls further, tossing another small explosive in another hiding spot.

She seemed to know and understand that it was a sore spot and let it go. He knew he would not last. “You mentioned you think you know who I am,” she said, putting another of their bitty contraptions in another.

“That’s the last one,” he murmured. “The dinner should start soon. We need to figure out where the troopers are.”

“I can lead you to them,” Zora replied.

“Don’t you have to continue your mission?”

“My mission had already ended. Things had been sidetracked when the ship I was on didn’t go to the rendezvous point and was rather diverted when the Zygerrian queen sent our ship to Dooku’s. We’re good,” she explained, glancing at him with a smile. “I’ve got your back.”

Zora took the lead and started to bring him through the palace to the outside. Luke swallowed, uneasily. He knew he could trust her, but he didn’t like the feeling he got where they were hiding. They were out of the palace now, moving towards some of the other outbuildings nearby.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said, after a while.

“It wasn’t a question.”

“Who do you think I am.”

Luke glanced down and smiled warmly. “He talked about you, in several instances. The jumpsuits, the short hair, the warming crystal that you are wearing around your neck.”

Zora narrowed her eyes.

“Ben talked about you. He carried the crystal on him for a long time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you,” he shot her another grin, practically beaming. “I am very happy to be able to meet you. A lot more excited than I am allowed to be and show right now. You are just as amazing and snarky as Ben said, Siri Tachi.”

Luke had nearly fallen over when he felt it. He had reached out into the Force, for the troopers, just as an assurance. He had been met with pain. His head had turned and stared at his companion, wide-eyed and fearful. Her mouth was moving, probably questions. He didn’t hear them. Instead, he just started to run.

They were hurting. They were hurting. They were hurting. Someone was hurting them. All he had wanted to do was get them through this. He just wanted to get them through this. How could he possibly failing so much so hard?

Fail. Fail. Fail.

He failed so spectacularly.

Getting into the small building was easy. Many guards were at the dinner for the Queen and the Count, well, guarding them. But Luke ran through without care, knocking any guard they came across, at the very least, unconscious. His heart had completely dropped when he had stepped inside. Because he knew what this place was, right when he saw the people that inhabited it.

A slaves’ quarters.

Not just that, a temporary one. Ones who were being sent off to auction.

“Free them!” he yelled.

His companion knew what he meant and immediately went to unlock the cages, using the force to take off the collars. Luke kept running. The urgency, the urgency, he had to move. Slamming open one of the doors – oh, they felt so close! – he had bowled over one of the Zygerrians, whipping out his saber and taking several limbs off of several more. They stood little chance. His shoulder and arm was burning like nothing before and it felt like he couldn’t quite breathe.

He didn’t stop until they were all on the floor, dead or unconscious.

“Hey, Luke you, okay?”

That was Waxer’s voice. Luke nearly wanted to cry. He didn’t want to look at them, at the damage done. He didn’t know if he said anything, but Waxer continued.

“We are okay, kiddo,” he kept going. “A few light electrical burns and some bruises, but nothing serious. I promise.”

Luke could still hear the yelling. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, going through exercises and jedi mantra. He did this for several moments before he finally got the courage to glance up at them. All six of them, on their feet without aid. Waxer hadn’t been lying but that didn’t make things hurt any less.

Because he saw what was on their necks.

He had seen them before. On Tatooine when Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru had dared to bring him into town during their errands. On several backwater planets, controlled by Hutts or slavers or the scum of the galaxy, he and Ben had to stop at. He had nearly seen one on his own neck once. He had, however briefly, had seen one on Ben’s.

No, Luke would not fall.

But perhaps they would wish that was all he did.

“Dooku should die for this,” Luke croaked out as he stared at them. His vision was blurry. Tears, again, he suspected.

There was some talking. Luke didn’t hear it. All he heard was the crunching of the collars that were on their necks, falling off as Luke clenched with both his fist and in the force. Someone was holding his hand. He didn’t know who it was.

“So, what are we doing? It’s up to you, Luke,” someone was talking. Luke couldn’t tell who it was, perhaps he wasn’t listening hard enough. He wasn’t paying attention much. “Are we going to try our hand at escape? Or are we making an attempt on the Count’s life?”

#revolving suns au #time travel #fix it #time travel fix it #protective luke skywalker #luke skywalker #clone trooper waxer #waxer #captain rex #jesse #fives #tup #clone trooper jesse #clone trooper fives #clone trooper tup #revolving suns

12 notes · View notes

kaminobiwan · 5 years ago

Text

where the heart is

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x ambassador!reader

summary: He meets the fam.

a/n: I did this request while taking a break from my drabble prompts, but I’m steadily working through those! The idea for this just came to me in the shower while I was listening to “When You Believe” the most inspiring song ever and I had to crank it out. Here you go anon!

At the end of a two-week security detail for the Ambassador to Cantonica, Obi-Wan is quite certain he’s got your daily routine memorized.

So when you dismount the airbus home at a different stop than you have been for the past dozen nights, he doesn’t fail to notice. Your smile is secretive when he asks you about it.

“Family gathering,” you explain airily, and a tremor of apprehension runs through him. “It’s a monthly tradition. I knew if I told you earlier, you’d have a Coruscant Guard take your shift instead.” You’re right, of course, because it isn’t exactly within the Code to go accepting evening invitations from the subjects of his protection. More than that, he’s not exactly jumping at the opportunity to meet your family.

It’s not born out of dislike. Quite the opposite, actually. The two of you are close — maybe closer than the aforementioned Code would prefer — and he enjoys your sharp wit and even sharper tongue, particularly when you’re going after venal Attorney Generals from the Corporate Sector Authority alongside Senator Amidala. But your liking for him was hard-earned, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous at the thought of having to win over your kin, too.

Not that it mattered all that much. It wasn’t like you two were anything more than close friends. Would it really be the end of the world if your family didn’t like him?

“As entertaining as that sounds,” he clears his throat, “I’m afraid I’ll have to take my post outside.” His voice lowers as you lead him past the gates of a small neighborhood. “Though I do appreciate the gesture.”

“You don’t want to come in for dinner?” You throw him a questioning look over your shoulder as you shuck off your coat while walking. “I’ve been with you the whole day, and I haven’t seen you eat once.”

“I don’t want to impose,” he responds, the mild uneasiness growing as you approach what he assumes is your family’s residence. Even at a distance away, he senses the foreign hum of homeliness buzzing in the air. It welcomes you, but offsets him. “And I assure you, I’m not hungry.”

His stomach chooses that precise moment to contradict him. Loudly.

He slaps a hand over his abdomen as if that’d quiet it, and looks at you sheepishly as you hide a laugh behind your hand. “Maybe a little.”

Shaking your head at him, you pause before the entrance. “It’s not an imposition, trust me. I’m sure my sister would be ecstatic to meet an actual General. The ones I work with aren’t nearly as combative.” You motion for him to take off his shoes before entering the house. “Well, physically, anyway.”

He swallows one last time as you knock swiftly, knowing you’ve won the conversation. “Fine,” he says, to give himself a semblance of willingness, and the door swings open.

———

Your siblings don’t look anything like you.

He’s surprised to discover it, and mentally admits that at first glance, you all do look quite similar. But he’s acquainted himself with the slope of your nose, the point of your eyebrows, and the shape of your lips long enough to be able to easily single you out amongst them.

You are kindred in demeanor, however, and it calms his fluttering nerves minutely to find that your inviting warmth and congeniality is familial.

He’s especially taken off-guard when your mother pulls him down to greet him with a customary embrace that he recognizes from the Core Worlds, and he’s pretty sure he sees your brother stifle a snicker at his expression. He recovers quickly, though, and flashes his best smile.

“We’re pleased to host you, Master Jedi,” your mother tells him. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” He clasps her hands in return, summoning his regular charisma as you stare at him. “I see the ambassador's beauty is hereditary.”

Your brother cackles louder, and Obi-Wan spots your hand extending to pinch his side as your mother blushes delightedly.

In the middle of setting the table, he’s bombarded with questions from your family about the Order, the war — you’re right in predicting your sister’s interest in his involvement. Her enthusiasm signals a similar intellect to yours, and he’d be lying if he claimed that didn’t make him smile. To his further amusement, your brother manages to ask if he can hold Obi-Wan’s lightsaber before you scold him with the cadence only an elder sibling could possess.

Seeing you in such a cozy setting with your loved ones is interesting, to say the least.

Finally, your father brings in a pot of some of the best smelling broth Obi-Wan has ever tasted. Never mind the fact that it hasn’t even touched his tongue yet.

Internally, he blames the long day for rendering him so famished, but even the most satisfied stomach would agree that whatever your family has cooked is downright enticing. For a split second, his brain has the gall to be thankful to the assassination attempt two weeks ago for bringing him into your life, into your home, and in front of this heavenly-smelling dinner.

Obi-Wan cringes. He sounds like Anakin.

If there was any indication he was losing his mind, it was descending into thoughts similar to that his Padawan would have.

His self-diagnosis of insanity is interrupted by your mother asking him if he’d like a bowl of soup, and he accepts much quicker than his ego would have liked. “Thank you,” he enunciates while cooling a spoonful of the light green broth, “it smells delicious.”

“It’s topato stew,” you explain, between gulps of your own. “My father is from Batuu, and he uses his mother’s recipe.”

At the mention of his homeworld, your father seems to sit straighter, and looks at Obi-Wan with a smile. “Have you ever been? Any of your adventures take you that far into the Outer Rim?”

“Unfortunately not,” he replies, “though I have heard stories of the Trilon sector on my travels to other Outer Rim planets.”

Your father’s eyes glint with recognition, impressed with Obi-Wan’s correct identification of the planet’s location. “You know your way around a map, son. But stories are nothing compared to what it used to be. Before all the hyperspace lanes opened, Batuu was as big of a hub as any of those resort planets are nowadays.”

“Dad, I don’t think Obi-Wan wants a millennium-old history lesson right now,” you interrupt. He catches a smirk from behind your silverware as you glance back at him in beguilement. “He sits through enough political droning during the day.”

Still, he turns back to your father politely. “I’d love to hear it, though perhaps when I’m not preoccupied by such a fine entrée ahead of me.” He swallows another sip of the savory liquid to punctuate his sentence, and your father looks positively charmed as you roll your eyes in reaction.

“I’m glad to hear you like it, son.”

———

You walk him out before it gets too late, and he finds himself slipping his shoes back on slower than usual as you lean against the doorway.

“They seemed to like you.”

“Did they? I couldn’t tell by the way your brother flicked his garnish at me.”

One side of your mouth upturns in a half-grin, but he’s peering back at you with the same merriment. “It’s his way of showing affection. You tend to bring that out of people. It’s almost hypnotic.”

Sarcasm drips from the end of your words, and he straightens above you. “Unfortunately, I’m not a hypnotist.”

“Being a Force wielder is basically the same.”

He turns the doorknob with a scoff. As he steps out into the cool night air, you tread halfway out of the entrance, a final smile playing on your lips.

“Gonna be okay getting home?”

“I’m protecting you, you know.” It’s funny, the way he’ll now think of yours when he hears the word ‘home’. It certainly has the right feel to it. “But yes, I will be. I trust you’ll stay out of trouble until the morning?”

You slink back into the warmth of the building with a tempting sway of your hips.

“I make no promises.”

#rini writes #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan x reader #star wars imagines #lolol this was hard bc it’s harder to make it general when everyone’s family is so different and i want my fics to be relatable to everyone #but obi would definitely charm the pants off your fam no matter what #anyways i hope you guys like it :-)#also ambassador!reader 👀👀 switching it up

180 notes · View notes

starstwinkleplanetsshine · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Wormwood

Inspired by the song "Dear Wormwood" by The Oh Hellos, Darth Vader looks back on the last 20 years of his life and the events that led him to becoming Emperor Palpatine's apprentice and wishes he could take it all back. But just when all hope seemed lost, when Vader accepted he was doomed to live a shell of a man, every day filled with pain and regret, a glimmer of hope and Light appears to him in the form of his son, Luke Skywalker.

Luke believes there is still good in Vader, and deep down, he knows his son is right. But is it enough to make things right, or is the Light buried under too much darkness?

Read on AO3

“When I was a child

I didn't hear a single word you said

The things I was afraid of

They were all confined beneath my bed”

Vader awoke from his agonizing nightmare with a start, the same way he greeted every new day. As images of red rivers and blue blades and flowing brunette hair and bouncy lekku and burning suns faded away into the stark grey walls around him, he cursed his sleep for reminding him of a time long gone. In the early years when the weight of his losses still threatened to crush him, when the mere thought of the man who called him brother or the woman who called him husband or the girl who called him master threatened to crumple him into a ball on the floor with a single thought, he never allowed himself to sleep. He survived on hatred and anger alone, letting his suffering be his rest. It was the only way.

But now, nearly 25 years later, those thoughts brought only a sharp sting. Vader didn’t know if he was becoming numb to the pain or if he wasn’t as affected by it anymore, and he didn’t know which answer frightened him more. And now, nearly two decades later, events had taken place that caused all those old feelings to rise to the surface, all the memories of his life before which he had forced into the darkness were being dragged out to the light, and they were too blinding.

The first crack had appeared three years ago when he stared into the eyes of a man he thought was a ghost. The moment when the blade of his saber struck his old master for the last time, Vader felt a shattering deep within him, inside a dark and dusty corner of his heart that he hadn’t felt in decades. He felt a thin and decaying string, once golden and shining, finally snap. Vader didn’t even know his bond with Obi-Wan was still there until he felt it break forever.

The next crack appeared one year ago when Vader had learned of the survival of his son. Being a father was a dream that died alongside the Republic, alongside Padme, alongside Anakin. Just another loss to add to the growing list. Learning that that was not true, that the child born of the only woman he had ever loved was living, breathing, moving with The Force, had awoken something deep within Vader that he thought would stay dormant forever. But Vader could only remember his son in times of absolute strength, for thoughts of Luke always led him back to his mother, and those thoughts led him back to the time when his days were filled with laughter and golden sunlight. A time of blue eyes, not yellow, of smooth skin and golden-honey hair, not black metal and machinery, a time where the world was shades of blues and greens and purples and golds, not red.

A time of Padme Amidala. Ahsoka Tano. A time of Anakin Skywalker. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Names that all died with the Republic.

Obi-Wan.

Now that was a name that caused fire to burn inside Vader, a fire full of passion and hatred and love and regret. They say the line between love and hate is thin, that those two emotions were closer than any other, and since that day on Mustafar all those years ago, Vader knew why. He couldn’t think of the man he once called master without being filled with bitterness and regret, for his betrayal stung so because his love for him once ran so deep. Obi-Wan was the one person the man who had once been Anakin loved the most, trusted the most, the one who could always calm the storm swirling within him, the only one who could contain it when it threatened to erupt and destroy everything good and light.

Now he was the man who Vader hated with every ounce of metal keeping him alive.

He thought finally killing Obi-Wan would also kill the ache within him, the pain he blamed on his old master. But it turns out it was never Obi-Wan who caused the pain, it had truly been Vader all along. For twenty years after that dark night on Mustafar, the image of Obi-Wan that was frozen in Vader’s memory was the one who cut off all his limbs and left him for dead, burning and gasping for air beside an unforgiving torrent of fire. But ever since he had struck the fatal blow, his revenge upon Obi-Wan that Vader had dreamed about for nearly two decades, that was no longer the image he associated with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

For the past few years, the thought of his old master brought back images of warm smiles and reassuring shoulder pats. It brought back fondness and memories of fighting alongside him during the Clone Wars, even memories from before that when Anakin was still a child. Their first sparring match. Sitting across from his old master meditating. The nights Obi-Wan would stay up late helping Anakin with his Temple assignments. All those nights Anakin sheepishly walked into Obi-Wan’s room after a particularly bad dream, his eyes still wet with tears. Remembering how he would let Anakin curl up next to him under his pillow and sing ancient lullabies to him until his breathing steadied and his heart slowed enough for him to finally drift back to sleep.

Only in his moments of strength could Vader remember the words Obi-Wan spoke to Anakin all those years ago, when his old master would remind him he no longer had anything to fear, that no matter what dangers or trials the young boy faced, he would always be by his side, guiding him and protecting him.

Obi-Wan promised that he would always be there.

But deep down, Anakin could never truly believe him.

-----

“But the years have been long

And you have taught me well to hide away

The things that I believed in

You've taught me to call them all escapes”

One year since Vader found out his child survived. Four years since Vader struck down the man he labeled his greatest enemy. 23 years since Anakin Skywalker died on Mustafar. 24 years since Anakin failed his padawan and she walked away from him. 26 years since Anakin lost his mother on Tatooine. 36 years since Anakin first entered the Jedi Temple.

If only Vader could go back and tell that little boy of nine years old all that was in store for him in the years ahead. All the fear and pain and heartbreak and suffering. But also the joy and laughter and bliss and growth.

If only he could tell him that it would all be worth it, that he could survive the pain without using the help of the Darkside. That he could trust the people who loved him, who truly cared for him, and that being a Jedi was the greatest gift he had ever been given.

If only he could say that that was true.

But time didn’t work like that.

Vader sat alone in his silent chambers on the very planet where the only thing more red than the lava flows beneath him was the glowing of his lightsaber and the hatred deep in his soul. He thought back on all the years, on all the moments that led him to becoming the empty shell of a man he was, and he wondered just where he went wrong. Looking back, he could see it all so clearly, his mistakes like a map leading him straight to the dark. He often wondered where it all started--if he had never left Tatooine would it still be like this? Was it his selfish choice of love over duty, or maybe it was his first violent outburst of revenge against the Tusken Raiders who murdered his mother? Or was it every soul he couldn't save during the Clone War? Or perhaps the way he failed his padawan and lost trust of the council forever? Or could it have been his outrage at not being granted the rank of Master?

Or was he doomed to darkness from the moment he was born under the harsh cruelty of the Twin Suns?

Vader tried to keep himself occupied with anything, everything--military strategies, saber techniques, even tinkering with droids--just as long as his mind was busy so he didn’t run the risk of remembering. He couldn’t let himself dwell on those thoughts for more than moments, for if he did, his strength threatened to fail him.

No.

He had to remember the way Obi-Wan failed him. The way Padme betrayed him. The way Ahsoka abandoned him. The fact that Anakin Skywalker was too weak. For if he remembered the truth, then he could never actually live with himself.

-----

“I know who you are now

I know who you are

I know who you are now”

Vader could feel the shifting tides of the Force like a riptide surrounding him. Ever since he had learned that the young rebel who blew up 20 years of strenuous work with a single shot was his son, Vader hadn’t known peace.

If he was truly honest with himself, though, Vader had never known peace. But the man Vader once was did, and its name was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Padme Amidala. Rex. Ahsoka Tano.

He slowly walked to the large window in the side of his ship and gazed down to the Forest Moon below. His son was down there, he could feel his presence in the Force like a beacon of light in a dark tempest, guiding him to safety.

Maybe, just maybe, could it be possible for Vader to know peace once again?

No.

Any hope of that was long gone.

But perhaps…

Vader closed his eyes and opened himself up to the tides of the Force, just as his old master had taught him to do. For the first time in a long time he didn’t try to control it or channel it through his anger, pain, or passion, he simply let go and let the Force show him what she wanted him to see. He wasn’t surprised when the face of a man with sky-blue eyes and a kind, bearded smile swirled around his memory.

For the last four years, the face of Obi-Wan had followed him like a shadow he could never run from. At first it only fueled his anger, but now it piqued Vader’s curiosity. Why now, years after his death, years after he killed him, did the face of his old master continue to haunt him? He was beginning to wonder if it was for a purpose, if maybe The Force was trying to tell him something, something he was refusing to hear.

The Force used to sing to him, back when he was called Anakin, and she would wrap herself around him in golden light and carry him along her gentle current.

But it had been years since he had unplugged his ears and let himself listen to her song, and Vader wondered if she could still sing.

He also wondered if this feeling that he felt when he thought of Luke, the ache in his heart he felt when he gazed upon his son, if maybe that was the same feeling that Obi-Wan once felt when he looked upon him. He remembered a time long ago when he felt something similar when looking at a young Togruta with the kindest eyes and an even kinder heart.

Vader thought he could almost name the feeling.

Obi-Wan once said he had loved Anakin, and now Vader could admit that that must've been true.

And Anakin knew he had once loved him too.

-----

“There before the threshold

I saw a brighter world beyond myself

And in my hour of weakness”

You were there to see my courage fail”

All Anakin ever wanted was to protect the ones he loved. He believed in the hope of a world where he could keep pain away from all those he called his own, a world where everything was right and just and beautiful and safe, all because he had made it so. He was raised to stand up for those who couldn't, to use his gifts and power to help others, both by his mother and his master. He always knew he was special, but he never wanted to be great for his own sake. No, everything Anakin ever did was motivated by those he loved, and he just wanted to create a better, brighter world for the galaxy.

Everything he did, he did for others.

Or so he thought he did.

He thought that by becoming a Jedi he would be able to spread goodness and light, justice and peace to the galaxy. So where did it all go so wrong?

Looking back on it all now, Vader could see how blind he was. How blinded by fear and possessiveness, obsession and the inability to let go. Like a child who loves an injured bird too much and squeezes it between its fist, never realizing that it was its desire to help and protect that ultimately ended up killing it. He called it the need to protect the one he loved, but now he could name it for what it was: selfishness. And it was that selfishness that brought his whole world crumbling down around him. All that was left in the wake of that dark night on Mustafar were shattered dreams and dashed hopes crashing around the one who used to be Anakin like forsaken ashes, his old life going up in smoke along with the Jedi temple.

And who was there to watch him burn it all to the ground but the one man he never wanted to let down. The one man he had striven to please since he was a small boy of nine, the one man who he had loved like a father, a brother, a best friend.

Obi-Wan had sworn to always be by Anakin’s side, so it was only fitting that he would be there to witness his worst mistake.

Anakin never wanted to fail anyone, especially Obi-Wan.

And in the end, he failed everyone.

You're breaking my heart…

You were my brother…

I won't leave you, not this time…

Vader still couldn’t think of all that he lost without hearing the echoes of his past.

-----

“For the years have been long

And you have taught me well to sit and wait

Planning without acting

Steadily becoming what I hate”

Vader could remember a time long ago when he confided in a man he thought of as a grandfather, a man who he trusted, who told him he could trust him. He couldn’t see it then, the years of careful manipulation and meticulous planning that Palpatine went through to gain Anakin’s trust. Like a serpent whispering in Anakin’s ears telling him he had to keep secrets from those who truly loved him, making the boy believe he was the only one who would understand. Feeding him the lie that if he ever truly opened up, everyone would hate what they saw. If he shared his fears with Obi-Wan he would be kicked out of the order and sent straight back to Tatooine, back into the chains to which he was born.

So he kept it all inside.

And he told his feelings to only one man, the one man who only ever saw him as a pawn, a means to an end.

But by the time he saw the truth, it was too late.

It wasn’t until Anakin was gone and Vader was clad in metal and machine, and he felt the first of many lightning bolts that Palpatine used to keep him in line. It wasn’t until he tried to speak of his fears, his losses, his hurt, to the now-Emperor only to receive nothing but punishment in return that he realized it was never real.

So he retreated even further into himself, for now he was truly alone.

He looked back in regret on all the years he thought he had no one to turn to, able to see now that that couldn't have been farther from the truth. How had he let himself feel so alone in the days where he was surrounded by those who loved and cared for him, immersed in a community of family bonded by The Force?

It almost made him laugh to think of how wrong he was.

For in Anakin’s emptiest moments he still had more than Vader ever would at his fullest.

Vader stood in front of the Emperor, the man he had called master for the last 20 years but who never truly deserved the title, with his shields high and impenetrable. He couldn’t let Palpatine see the turmoil within him, and over the years Vader had gotten skilled at hiding his true feelings, even from himself at times. But especially now as his master told him of how he would have to either turn his son to the dark or destroy him, he was thankful that his thoughts were only his own.

The path of the darkside or destruction.

‘Those are the same thing’ Vader thought to himself. ‘And I will not see my son fall down the same path that I did.’

Vader stared forward, and the smallest part within him was grateful for the mask that hid his features from the prying eyes of Emperor Palpatine. For years Vader had suffered under his hand, doing his will without complaint or hesitation because he had nowhere else to turn. In his greatest moment of weakness he had burned everything good he had ever loved, and so there was nothing left to do but turn away from the light of the flames and follow the dark. It's what he deserved--torment and pain and suffering.

But now there was the smallest glimmer of light, and it was burning inside Vader once again. Inside the shell which used to be as black as a bottomless cave there was now a long-forgotten ember, lit by the boy called Luke. Luke Skywalker.

Skywalker.

But even with the light beginning to glow within him, Vader knew it was too late for him. He was already doomed, and the man he once was had been destroyed.

Palapatine had made sure of that.

-----

“I know who you are now

I know who you are

I know who you are now”

Palpatine.

How many years had Vader spent blaming Obi-Wan, blaming Anakin, blaming the Jedi, the council, the Republic, the war, anything but the one man who’s fault it truly was.

And why had it taken so long for him to see the truth?

Why was it not until Vader came face to face with his son, face to face with goodness and light and hope for the first time in decades, that he was able to see his master for who he truly was?

-----

“I have always known you

You have always been there in my mind

But now I understand you

And I will not be part of your designs”

For years Vader played his part, doing his master's terrible bidding without hesitation. Denying the parts of himself that refused to die, the soft spots in his crystalized heart which he could never turn completely to stone. In the beginning he had told himself that he was doing the right thing, that the Jedi were traitors and the reason the Republic fell. That the Empire would bring peace and security to the galaxy, that he was ushering in a new age of prosperity for all. That The Emperor saw things clearly and that he wanted the best for him and the people in the Empire. But eventually he could not be blind to those lies, so he traded his optimism for apathy, following orders out of a sense of duty and the feeling that he was in too deep to get out now.

When Vader, no, Anakin, was a boy he had been a slave. His life was not his own, everything he did was controlled by another. When he ate, when he worked, when he played, when he slept. He could be beaten or even killed in an instant for something as insignificant as his master's poor temper. It was an exhausting existence, one without peace or rest.

But he was given a new life when he was nine years old. For the first time in his life, Anakin was given freedom. But even then, even from his first moments of true happiness and liberation, Palpatine was there whispering lies in his ear.

“You’re still calling someone master” he would hiss.

“No, it's different. I’m a Jedi now. It’s an honor to call Obi-Wan master.” Anakin would counter, believing every word.

“You're still being told when to eat, when to work, when to play, when to sleep.” Palpatine’s manipulations started from a very young age.

“No, it’s different. I made a choice to be a Jedi, I’m not being forced to do anything.” Anakin’s new life as a Jedi was nothing like being a slave on Tatooine.

Right?

“But was it your choice? Is this really the life you want? I only want you to be happy, my boy.”

Anakin never knew how to respond to that.

Slowly, steadily, over time, Anakin began to wonder if there was truth to the venom Palpatine had been injecting into his brain. Maybe he was still a slave. A slave to duty. A slave to the Republic. A slave to the Jedi.

Anakin never wanted to be a slave again.

So he swore to put an end to it. To get out. To be free and the only one in control of his life. But the only thing he succeeded in doing was in tightening his chains, wrapping himself with ropes of metal and locking himself in a prison of hate.

For Vader could now look back and see what he could not see then, that he was never a slave as a Jedi.

But he was one now.

And now his master was requiring of him an impossible task, to hand over his son to endure the same fate he did. To doom Luke to serve the same dark master and force hatred and passion and anger to consume his soul and corrupt him into something unrecognizable, twisting him into a monster.

Vader hadn’t failed his master in years, but he had a choice to make now. Should he continue to be faithful to a man who took everything from him, to an Empire that only left death and destruction in its wake? Or would he finally put an end to it all, finally turn back towards the light that used to be his home?

Vader had been a mere pawn to Palpatine for as long as he could remember.

A slave.

He vowed when he left Tatooine he would never be a slave again.

-----

“I know who I am now

And all that you've made of me

I know who you are now

And I name you my enemy”

Vader’s heart was a whirlwind of conflict as he stood in front of his son and his master. As much as he tried to fight it, to push it down, to keep his mind focused solely on the Dark, he couldn’t ignore the call to the Light that plagued him at the mere thought of his son. It was even stronger now as Luke stood before him, like a beacon of hope, and Vader didn’t know how much longer he could fight it.

He couldn’t bear to listen to the words the Emperor was speaking to his son, the same lies and empty promises that were made to him so many years ago. He only hoped that, unlike himself, Luke was able to see through the falsehoods for what they truly were, and he hoped his son could resist.

For even now the Dark had such a strong hold on Vader that he was still doing his master’s bidding, fighting his son and trying to turn him. But his mind was at war with itself, and his soul was being torn in two, his loyalty to his Dark master being ripped apart by his love for his son and his old connection to the Light.

His unfocus betrayed him and he soon found himself on the ground at the mercy of his son, bested in combat as he felt anger and darkness swirl around Luke. No, he could not destroy his son, but it was not out of weakness. As he felt the Darkside grow like a rising tide around Luke, Vader’s heart tightened in his chest. He could not bear to see his son fall down the same path as he did, he didn’t want the same pain and torment to follow him and fill his days with nothing but agony and regret. And as he lay with Luke looming over him, hearing The Emperor urge Luke to finish him off, to take his place at his side, to join the darkness and rule the galaxy with fear and terror, Vader, for the first time in over two decades, could finally see it all for what it was.

For now he knew.

Vader wasn't born of Anakin, buried deep within the boy just waiting for the right moment to emerge.

He was made.

Forged by Palpatine and molded out of the hatred and desperation the Emperor had instilled in the boy, carefully crafted over years of subtlety.

It had taken decades, but Vader finally saw through the lies.

In an instant Vader had the Emperor in his hands lifted high above his head. He could feel the Force lightning coursing through his suit, singeing whatever flesh was left of him, overheating circuits and frying power couplings. He knew that this would be the last act he ever did, and yet Anakin felt a peace flow through him that was more powerful than the electricity.

For the first time in a long time, Anakin was finally doing something right.

-----

“I know who I am now

I know who I want to be…”

For years Vader had wanted nothing more than to turn back the hands of time and take it all back, take back every mistake he ever made that led to the destruction of everything he ever loved and held close. He wished through strangled sobs that he could hold his wife again, that he could see the smile of his old master with his shining blue eyes, hear the banter of his young padawan who always made him so proud. What he wouldn't do to feel the sunlight upon his skin as he strolled through the gardens of the Jedi temple, listening to the sounds of murmured conversations and ringing laughter as the Force flowed through him like a gentle river, carrying with it peace and love and Light. For twenty years he had cursed himself for his selfishness and greed, for his destruction of anything good and pure in the galaxy. If he could take it all back, he would. In an instant. Without hesitation. Even if it meant losing his life, he would give anything to go back to how it was, before the dark times, before the Empire.

But he never could, he told himself it was impossible.

But now, looking at his son, now he saw there was a way.

He couldn’t turn back time, but he could make a better future, for his son had been right. There was still goodness in him, and Anakin was done leaving it in the darkness.

It was time to return to the light.

For he finally understood.

All of the mistakes he ever made he made because he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let go of his fear of losing those he loved, he couldn’t let go of his pain, his grief, his losses, his doubts. He couldn’t let go of his need to control. And so this refusal of peace had led him to darkness, down a path where everything was gripped firmly in his hands, even if it burnt or cut him.

But he had finally learned to let go, and in doing so, he could finally make things right.

Luke saved Anakin, so it was only fair that he saved his son in return.

Anakin could feel the Second Death Star rumbling around him and he fought the call of unconsciousness as his son dragged him towards a ship, but he knew what Luke did not, that it was too late for him.

No, not too late. It was just in time.

“Help me take this mask off” Anakin struggled to speak as his life support began to fail.

“But you’ll die.” Luke was still holding onto hope.

“Nothing can stop that now,” Anakin had accepted his fate, the death that seemed long overdue. “Just for once, let me look on you with my own eyes.” Vader was dead, he fell to his destruction alongside Emperor Palpatine, and that mask belonged to him. But those eyes, those blue eyes who longed to gaze at his son's face for the last time, those were Anakin’s.

As the Force began to swirl around him, gently singing her ancient lullabies, songs Anakin used to hear but had been deaf to for so long now, he needed to say one final thing to his son, the one who saved him, who reminded him of who he truly was.

“You were right. Tell your sister…”

How Anakin wished he could look upon her in this moment, too. He regretted all the time he lost, he hated that his only times with his daughter were moments when he was hunting her, hurting her, causing her to fear and hate him. He thought of her resilience, her strength, her determination, her beauty. Her commitment to justice and goodness in the face of tyranny, how she never backed down from a fight. He remembered how she could command a room, how she knew her worth and she never let anyone diminish it. He thought of her love for her family, her people, her planet, and her love of the light, and he was so proud of her. In his daughter's eyes he saw Padme Amidala, and he stole a smile thinking of how Leia was continuing her mother’s legacy, whether she knew it or not. He could only hope that she would listen to Luke and maybe, just maybe, be able to forgive him enough, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it.

“...you were right.”

The world around him grew darker now, the Force moving in closer and transitioning his spirit from this world to the next. He looked into his son’s eyes one final time, seeing nothing but goodness and light, and he breathed his last, letting go and releasing himself into the larger will of the Force.

And as he went, he felt only peace.

Darkness gave way to light, and as he opened his eyes in a new plane of existence, he was greeted by a face that he would recognize anywhere, regardless of the effects of age and two harsh suns beating down upon it.

“Hello there, my old Padawan.”

And without a moment of hesitation, eyes brimming with tears, Anakin Skywalker fell into the open arms of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“...I want to be more than

This devil inside of me.”

10 notes · View notes