Chapter Text
Lord Naruto doesn’t stay long. After a week or so of partying with Twi’lek girls and boys, he leaves as abruptly as he came, leaving behind strange gifts that nobody but Lord Orochimaru knows the value of. Tea is tea, right?
Not right, because Lord Orochimaru spends next three months building a very intricate, heavily magical oasis for his tea trees. It’s a bit outside of Ani’s sphere of interest, so he’s content to leave him be and focus on rebuilding the HoloTower.
“It’s not all Hutt slavers and pirates,” he reasons with Lord Orochimaru when his mentor-God brings it up. “There are—thousands of worlds out there. What if there are refugees?”
Lord Orochimaru would, invariably, roll his eyes and scoff about soft hearts and sentiment, but would give him a few clones to help with the heavy lifting and manufacturing. At times like these, it would have been convenient if Lord Orochimaru hadn’t mysteriously vanished all the mountains of garbage they had amassed over the centuries. Alas, with the weather being what it was, it would have ended up scattered over the planet, which would clash with the paradise-aesthetic Lord Orchmaru is going for. So, now they need to start from scratch on everything, and Ani can only improvise so much from alien ships and conjecture.
So, when the ship flies into their space and politely stays there without showing any sign of aggression, he has plenty of arguments with Marshall.
“My education,” he cajoles. “It’s suffering. We don’t have any books or datastores. Our electrical grid is powered by your magic. It would be wise to have a connection to the HoloNet, so we can build a sustainable system. Maybe even a school.”
Lord Orochimaru sighs like an old, old reptile he is, but doesn’t immediately fry the ship.
“Fine, let’s board one of your—vessels—and talk to them.”
Ani blinks, beyond delighted. He gets to come with? Ani gets to go to space with his God to keep him safe? Awesome.
“Greetings,” says a deep, soothing voice over the commlink. “My name is Qui-Gon Jinn, of the Jedi Order. My Padawan and I come on behalf of the Jedi Council to establish a comfortable and fruitful relationship with—the leadership of Tatooine.”
Ani takes in the expected expression of near-terminal boredom on Lord Orochimaru’s face and swallows a giggle. “We currently aren’t accepting any visitors,” he says, improvising. “Our shields are new and we haven’t yet calibrated them to allow passage of foreign ships.” True as anything. This is the first time they had tried to fly their own ship.
“Ah.” The Jedi’s pause is music to Ani’s ears. He knows just what is going through their mind. Ani is ten but he sounds six, and even though he hadn’t needed to practise being underestimated in recent years, he enjoys it. That it never fails to net him a fond pat from Lord Orochimaru is a nice bonus. “My apologies, good sir. To whom might I ask am I speaking?”
“Anakin Skywalker,” drawls Lord Orochimaru. “The de-facto sovereign of the planet you are orbiting. I am Orochimaru, his guardian.” The word guardian bristles with all possible interpretations of that word, chief among which being ‘enforcer’. “Since it is Ani’s wish we treat with you, we will be willing to board your ship for the negotiations.”
“Ah,” repeats the Jedi, sounding like he’s back on more even footing. They might know that Tatooine is made up of the dregs of society, but they also likely know how to deal with imperious baby-monarchs and their exasperated guards.
(The idea that Ani could be considered a ruler of anything, much less a planet, is so wacky it makes him want to spin in circles for a week. )
“We would be honoured to host the negotiations with his majesty and yourself—Ah. Master Orochimaru?”
“Lord Orochimaru will do,” hums the God. “I am the Head of my Clan. It is appropriate. Ani has not claimed a title, so calling him majesty would be meaningless. I only mentioned his status so it is clear he has the authority to treat with you.” The following pause, Ani thinks, is wholly unnecessary, but he appreciates the theatricality of it. “He is the only one with the authority to treat with you.”
How utterly crazy his life is. He should write all of this down and sell the rights to a HoloVid producer.
The Jedi ship is just big enough to accept even a pod as streamlined as Ani’s, but it’s cool, homey and crackling with a different type of magic than what Ani is used to. The Jedi themselves—
“Huh,” he says, as the two Jedi take one look at his mentor and immediately go for their ‘sabres. “You, I should have seen that coming.”
Lord Orochimaru’s sigh is loud and heartfelt.
“You—Who are you,” growls the younger Jedi—Padawan, the other guy said. He knows that word, he’s pretty sure. Means baby Jedi. “What is this?”
“Obi-Wan—”
“I am Orochimaru,” his mentor says, edging into waspishness. “This is my child, Anakin Skywalker. That planet is his. Which part of this very reasonable outline is in dispute?”
“The part where you are Sith,” the older guy says slowly. Cautiously.
“And that is--?”
That seems to bring both men pause. They still hold their lightsabers in a business-like manner—which, awesome—but they both get a slight glaze in their eyes. They’re doing Jedi magic, he cheers internally. He saw holofilms that started more or less precisely like this!
“Not a Sith,” the old guy says like he’s trying to decide one way or the other. “But—something.”
Lord Orochimaru scoffs and sends Ani a deeply aggrieved look. Here, the look says. Look at what you’ve made us endure.
“But—His eyes—”
Lord Orochimaru rolls said eyes as hard as he can. “I was born with golden eyes, infant. Now, are you two finished with the dramatics? My child wants to negotiate with you.”
“Your child,” the older guy says, focusing on Ani with non-trivial intensity. “He shines with power—”
Ani doesn’t shy away from it because he’s got his God here, but he does let his eyebrows scrunch together. “Awkward. You realise that is a very awkward thing to say, yes?”
Lord Orochimaru isn’t the territorial type. If anything he’s the type to flaunt the shiny thing he has in the face of those who would envy him for it. “Yes. My Anakin is the brightest star in the Galaxy. And he’s mine.”
Ani nods easily, as dubious as he s about his supposed power. If he was powerful, he’d not have been a slave until Lord Orochimaru came. If he was powerful, someone would have noticed and bought him, if nothing else. But fighting about that seems idiotic. “Lord Orochimaru came and liberated us from the Hutts and the slavers,” he says into stunned silence. “By means of killing them all.” Very precise, good, keep going. “He decided to stay and—” What? “—Guide me since.” There, that’s nice and vague and accurate. They haven’t spoken about the relationship in any real way, other than to make it clear that Lord Orochimaru isn’t his master. Ani knows better than to expect a formalised relationship with a God. There are enough stories about what happens to mortals who attempt to nail down and leash a deity into a mortal arrangement. Ani isn’t stupid.
The big guy is still staring at him, eyes unseeing, magic shivering around his body. The other one—also humanoid but much smaller and less crazy intense, hopefully—is staring between him and his mentor with something like dawning but resigned horror.
“Master—”
Ani shudders and edges closer into Lord Orochimaru’s legs. Yuck. He’s starting to believe that it will be for the best to get these guys out of here as soon as possible. “You are here on behalf of your—council?”
“Yes,” the giant says, voice distant.
His—for the sake of his mental stability, Ani will call him his student—closes his eyes briefly and visibly gathers his composure. When he opens them, he’s got a decently smooth mask of politeness going on.
“We were sent to offer to mediate the dispute between the Trading Federation and Tatooine,” Padawan Kenobi says. “Which, in this case, would be you, Master Skywalker?”
Ani blinks and carefully doesn’t say anything for a moment. “You want to mediate a dispute? Between us and the Trading Federation?”
The magic around Padawan Kenobi tastes awkward but it doesn’t show anywhere on his face. “Yes, your Highness.”
Right. “I’m not actually a Prince or a King,” he says slowly. “I’m just Lord Orochimaru’s favourite.” Which will never not be amazing to say. “That said, we don’t do much about the day-to-day operations. That’s mostly my mum and the council. So you can call me Anakin if you want.”
Padawan Kenobi looks at Lord Orochimaru for approval, which is absolutely appropriate. The fact his Jedi mentor is still not-looking-but-looking at Ani unblinkingly is less so.
“Ani is in charge,” Lord Orochimaru says, voice heavy with put-upon boredom. “If he wants to do away with titles, he is free to do so.”
“Thank you, Anakin,” Padawan Kenobi says. “We are honoured by your kindness—”
“You should come to the Temple,” Qui-Gon Jinn says suddenly. “You must be trained in the use of the Force. You must do so.”
The fact that Lord Orochimaru doesn’t tense isn’t much of an indicator of his internal state. Then again, he could just be completely checked out of this conversation altogether, that would be in character.
“Um. Mister Jedi. No offence, but even if I wanted to leave my planet and my mum and my ‘shop and go with you, a person I’ve just met five seconds ago, I’d have to take Lord Orochimaru with me. How do you think he will do in your temple?”
The Jedi’s brows furrow, still halfway absent, like whatever mystical stuff he’s seeing is interfering with his reasoning ability. “You must be trained, child. It is beyond dangerous to leave such a strong ability untrained, not to mention that it will make you a target. We can protect you and guide you. Teach you.”
Ani doesn’t even have the time to sigh, that’s how little time it takes for Lord Orochimaru’s patience to run out. He doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t say or hint what’s coming, but his magic lunges, much like the serpent he so resembles. Just like that, the two Jedi are frozen still, encased in a controlled meteor’s worth of power.
“I do hope you aren’t hoping to poach my child.” He leaves them frozen for a long beat, presumably to underline his point, and lets go. To their credit, they don’t reach for their ‘sabres immediately. Part of that is fear—Kenobi, at least, is near tears from terror—but Jinn is, if anything, heaps more present than before. “There are beings that could out-power me; there are some that could outsmart me; there are some that could, even, trick me. With time and training, Ani could become one such being. Trust that you and your order are not.”
“Ah. My apologies,” Jinn says. The sheepish smile that flashes over his face goes a long way toward humanising him. Figures it would take a bit of Godly wrath to shake some sense into him. “I got a bit caught up with the—There was a prophecy, you see, and I—”
Ani jerks as, against all expectation, that draws a bark of surprised, rough laughter from Orochimaru-sama. The initial burst is followed by more sedate, urbane chuckles he is more used to, but all of it is wildly out of character for him. “Benzaiten-sama preserve me, there’s another one. Big, handsome, has a blonde cherub of an apprentice, obsessed with a prophecy—Tell me, Jedi Jinn, do you do a lot of travelling? Like to be on the move, as it were?”
“I—have been described as something of a nomad, yes.” Ani doesn’t even begrudge him the weird, taken-aback look. Handsome? Cherub? What?
“Of course you are. And the prophecy—it doesn’t happen to feature a—prophesied hero of sorts? A child maybe? That someone—like yourself, perhaps—would discover? That would bring peace and prosperity and end all war and such?”
Jinn cocks his head to the side. “I sense a measure of derision in your tone.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” With his chuckles finally tapering off, Lord Orochimaru’s magic feels oddly relaxed, if a little blue around the edges. Nostalgic, maybe, but mostly fond. “Ani, take a good look. You won’t often see a proper storybook hero, complete with all the virtues and idiocies found in them.”
Dutifully, Ani does just that. It works. Jedi Jinn is abnormally tall, with wide shoulders and classically handsome features. The few lines on his face are mostly from laughing, complimented by the scattered grey hairs on his temples. All in all, he could pass. As could, he thinks, his sidekick. People call Ani cute but he’s got nothing on Padawan Kenobi, with his blue eyes, flame hair and shockingly straight teeth. A hero and his helper. It works.
“I see it,” he says. “I don’t quite see why that’s so funny, but I would totally believe Jedi Jinn if he told me he was a long lost Heir to a Galactic Empire.” Well. “Or, for that matter, that Padawan Kenobi was the Heir, and he was the loyal Knight charged with his safety.”
“I’d say that this conversation has escaped from me, but that would suggest I had control of it at any point.” Padawan Kenobi takes a step forward, face set in such a determined show of politeness, it hurts Ani just to look at it. “Lord Orochimaru. Anakin. Master Jinn and I are only here as envoys. Could we conclude, then, that a Jedi delegation to negotiate a ceasefire between you and the Trade Federation is welcome on Tatooine?”
Oh, right. “Sure, yeah.” Should he mention that— “I don’t know that we had a conflict with anyone other than the Hutts, but if you insist?”
Padawan Kenobi’s smile twists even further somehow. “Lovely. That is all we want. Thank you for your time and patience, but, and I do hate to rush you, would you mind evacuating our ship so that we may return home to report to the Council?”
Ani shrugs, rocking on his heels a bit. “Sure. Sorry to—stress you out, I guess? I get that we’re a lot.”
“Not at all, Anakin. I am simply—” The Padawan’s whole body shudders as if keeping himself restrained is costing the man a lot. “Not appropriately trained for this situation. Rest assured the next delegation will be much better.”
Uh-huh. “I like you, though,” he says, partly to be a pest, and partly cause it’s true. “Both of you. You’re cool. And—I’m the, whatever, guy in charge, yeah? So—So if I tell your council that I want to talk to you—”
It was funny, but the spike of panic soured it. “Not alone! And, like—” Alright Ani, playtime’s over. “Look, I don’t want to get your hopes up here. You won’t get a lot out of us. We’re a strange place. There’s like less than a hundred thousand of us all up, and we all live on Lord Orochimaru’s magic. We’re not—proper, you know?”
“Anakin, I’m afraid I don’t follow. You just agreed to see a Jedi delegation.”
Ani nods his head quickly. “Yeah, of course. I said and I do. I just—” He makes a wave-like gesture between him and Lord Orochimaru, who is possibly measuring Jedi Jinn to check if he can swallow him whole. It’s not lust, Ani knows about lust. It’s not even attraction. Just—animal interest. “This is about as sane as it gets. We’re pretty crazy, right?”
“I don’t care,” Padawan Kenobi says, some of the overwhelmed stress finally leaking through all the training, pitching his tone higher. “We are not equipped for this. We were only meant to establish first contact and live to tell the tale. So. Thank you, Anakin—”
What a funny baby Jedi.
“Can you come back?” He rounds his eyes and takes a small step forward. “Please, Padawan Kenobi? Can you come with the delegation? It’s so nice down there, now. Lord Orochimaru made us oceans and waterfalls and forests and there’s all sorts of incredible food he imported from his world that doesn’t exist anywhere else, and—”
“We would love to visit,” Jedi Jinn says, in a possibly suicidal show of recklessness. “And I’m sure the Council will allow us to come back, especially if we’re invited personally by you, Anakin.”
He beams, wide and happy and curious. “This will be wonderful, I can already tell!”