Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your sixty-sixth brush with death occurs on the highway — just like so many of the prior sixty-five. As you see the vehicle in front of you slam on its brakes to avoid the deer, you raise your hand instinctively, mentally urging the young creature to run as fast as its little legs can carry it. A familiar feeling of something courses through you, a subtle sort of peace as everything slows, and you watch the cars avoid colliding with one another and the deer race to safety. Your peripheral vision catches sight of the truck headed for your rear end, and you have time for one single thought before the world goes dark. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.

“Are you alright?” An oddly familiar voice filters through your consciousness as you struggle to open your eyes.

When you finally do, you freeze, staring in shock at the familiar, handsome face — oblong with a cleft chin and blue eyes — bending over you and the sudden realization that the arms currently cradling you probably belong to the owner of said face. Anakin Skywalker. 

You swallow, finding yourself torn between fear and desire, followed by the sudden realization this is probably just another cosplayer, and remind yourself not to be weird. You empty your mind, pushing your feelings back behind a wall, and focus on the mantra you learned from one of your favorite fantasy writers. One white stone. You focus on the rock, examining it in your mind’s eye while your brain races for an answer. Am I okay? Did I die in the car crash? Am I in a coma somewhere? What is going on?

After a moment, you finally realize the Anakin cosplayer is still holding you in his russet-clad-arms while he waits for an answer, his Padawan braid dangling. “I don’t know,” you admit.

“We’ll take you back to Coruscant with us and have the Temple Healers check you over, Knight…?” a second voice, almost as familiar as the first, responds to you.

Mentally, you cringe with embarrassment. If this is Anakin, then that must be… Kenobi. I must have been found by other nerds. But why did he address me as a Knight? Belatedly, your brain reminds you that when you left Atlanta headed for home this morning, you opted for your Jedi robes as they make more comfortable traveling clothes than the cute outfit you had initially chosen to wear. Though, given the circumstances, you feel grateful you aren’t wearing your stained-glass-patterned droids skirt with your Anakin t-shirt as you had originally planned. But now, apparently, you are being addressed as a Jedi. Apparently, some people are still mentally at con.

The bearded cosplayer with the copper mullet and beige robes — whom you have mentally dubbed Kenobi — clears his throat, reminding you you still haven’t answered him.

The part of your brain that has been immersed in fandom for the last five days decides to just play along, so you give him your cosplay name, the one you’ve used to roleplay as a Jedi for over half of your life. “Jedi Knight Indra Bari.”

“Can you stand, Knight Bari?” Kenobi asks

“I would like to try.” You struggle to keep the embarrassment from your voice, focusing on the stone and your breathing to stay calm.

Anakin lowers you to the ground carefully, and you stand, your legs still shaking. You notice he keeps his hand near your back as if he is afraid you might fall. These guys are really committed to the characters, you can’t help but think. 

“My Padawan can assist you to our ship, Knight Bari,” Kenobi gestures as he leads the way. “Though there is some question of where yours is.”

A mental replay of the truck bearing down upon your vehicle flashes across the surface of your mind. “Destroyed, I imagine.”

“What happened?” Anakin asks, still walking beside you, his arm outstretched, no doubt to catch you.

You wince mentally, thoroughly embarrassed by your current instability. “There was an animal and other vehicles, and someone hit me, I think.”

“Sounds like you may have taken a blow to the head, Knight Bari.” Kenobi frowns at you over his shoulder. “Do you have a Padawan or anyone we should contact?”

“No. I was alone.” Stupidly, you think. Who drives back from DragonCon alone? The same laserbrain who hit her head so hard she doesn’t even know where she is. At least you hope that’s what’s happening. Perhaps later, you will have the space to figure it out. Right now, you feel too overwhelmed by the noise and all the sights and sounds and smells, none of which seem the least bit familiar to your aching brain. Where the kriff am I?

“Who was your Master?” Kenobi’s voice sounds like it is coming from the end of a long tunnel.

You wonder what you should say to him. Normally, you’re much better at being in character, but it’s becoming harder to think around the pounding in your head.

Beside you, Anakin reaches out to steady you, his voice sounding even further away than Kenobi’s. “Don’t harass the poor lady with excessive questions, Master. You said yourself, she probably has a head injury.”

The world around you begins to swim, colors and sounds swirling in a nauseous mix as you feel yourself start to fall. Rapidly descending into darkness, the last thing your awareness registers is the sensation of Anakin’s arms catching you.

The second time you open your eyes, you see a sterile, white ceiling stretching above your head and breathe a sigh of relief. You seem to be in the hospital. Thank the Force for my fellow nerds, you think. 

Before your brain can register the lack of normal hospital noises, Kenobi’s familiar voice interrupts your train of thought. “I see you are awake.”

I can’t believe they stayed with me, you think as you sigh and stretch, sitting up slowly. “I am.”

As if by command, a kind-faced woman in Jedi robes enters the room, a smile on her face. “Hello, I am Healer Syva. I’m afraid we don’t have access to your personal medical records yet but you appear to be perfectly healthy for a human female of about twenty cycles. Your cranial scans appeared normal. You were dehydrated and had overextended your Force abilities though, so I’ve given you fluids. Be sure to get plenty of rest. You need at least a standard galactic month of rest to recover. Come back and see me in two rotations.” Healer Syva smiles again and exits the room, leaving you with Kenobi.

Meanwhile, your brain still struggles to wrap itself around your situation. Twenty? Force abilities? They must have driven me back to the con, you decide, though you have to admit the elaborate setup has you confused. This seems a bit much, even for DragonCon.

They’re both still with me, you realize belatedly as the cosplayer you’ve taken to calling Anakin clears his throat.

Kenobi looks up guiltily as though he has been lost in thought. “The Council has requested your presence. They wish to ask you some questions.”

Of course, you smile to yourself, feeling comforted. This is just some elaborate Star Wars meetup group who found me on the side of the road and took care of me because that’s just how we do in the nerd community, you rationalize. At least your headache is gone. 

Continuing to smile, you decide to play along. “Lead the way, Master Kenobi.”

“Oh, I am not a Master yet, but thank you, my lady.” Kenobi flashes you one of his million-dollar smiles, and you shake your head, reminding yourself it’s just a character. This guy isn’t actually flirting with you. Is he?

Right on cue, Anakin rolls his eyes.

You have to admit, these two really play well off each other; they seem to share the same chemistry as the original actors. Part of your brain wonders if perhaps this is one of those cases where the celebrities in question have shown up to cosplay as their own characters but then decide that’s completely ridiculous. These two are probably just members of the 501st; that would explain their screen-accurate costumes as well as their dedication to their roles.

Anakin and Obi-Wan lead you through a labyrinthine building from one end to another and up several floors. The further you travel, the more your brain begins to pick apart the whole scene, wondering what the hell is going on. None of the host hotels are this large, you notice. Nor has there been any carpet. I suppose we could be in the underground, but why haven’t I seen a single hotel employee? Surely, there should be some event security somewhere. Instead, all you see are more Star Wars cosplayers. And even more suspiciously, every single cosplayer is dressed as a Jedi. No Sith. No bounty hunters. No Mandalorians. No mashups. Just Jedi. Almost as if you were, in fact, in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant during the late Republic Era. Even the elevator looks more like a turbolift; the buttons are labeled in Aurebesh.

By the time you approach a set of all-too-familiar-looking doors, you’ve begun to admit to yourself the set details seem a little too expansive and realistic for a simple Star Wars meetup. This whole experience feels more like that time you went to Galaxy’s Edge and spent hours in line meandering through the tunnels waiting for one of the more popular rides than it does something fan-made.

If the walls, findings, and lighting fixtures around you were not already enough to make you wonder what is really going on, the makeup jobs on the Council members certainly are. Everything around you looks a little too screen-accurate for comfort, causing some small part of your brain to begin completely freaking out. What if this isn’t a meetup? What if these aren’t cosplayers? That’s insane. This can’t be real. It has to be some sort of prank. Or a reality show. Eventually, someone will pull back a curtain and reveal I’ve been had, you rationalize. Maybe the Mouse is testing an all-new, immersive roleplaying experience. This quietens the small voice in your head that has been cataloging all the little details around you. Or it silences it for a little while, at least. 

“Kenobi, Skywalker, good to see you, it is.” A Yoda greets you, his vocal mimicry utterly flawless, and you can’t decide if it’s someone in costume or an animatronic. “Curious to hear about what you found on Ansion, we are.”

Ansion, you think to yourself. Meaning this … game, or whatever it is, is at the very beginning of Episode Two. Palpatine has just suggested Kenobi for Padmé’s bodyguard duty. 

“You, no doubt, have already read my official report, Master Yoda.” Kenobi addresses the council calmly, arms folded into his sleeves.

You marvel at his body language, at all of their body language, really. Every one of them seems to be doing a stellar job. Too good of a job, the small voice insists. 

You find yourself sandwiched between Kenobi on your right and Anakin on your left as though they have been instructed to guard you.

“Referring to your rescue mission, I was,” Master Yoda clarifies.

You take a deep breath, cycling the air through your lower belly in a calming square as you prepare to act out your part. You know, just in case this is the world's weirdest casting call.

“Anakin and I were headed out to the spaceport when Knight Bari appeared in front of us, falling out of the sky. My Padawan caught her before she hit the ground, but she initially appeared to be unconscious and exhibiting signs of a head injury.”

“Thank you, Kenobi.” The best Mace Windu cosplayer you’ve ever seen shifts his gaze to Anakin. “And you, Skywalker?”

Anakin shrugs. “It’s just like Obi-Wan said. We were walking to the spaceport when Knight Bari fell out of the sky, and I caught her.”

“Know to catch her, how did you?” Yoda asks.

Anakin pauses, appearing to think for a moment. “I felt her. There was a ripple in the Force, and I looked up to see a woman in Jedi robes falling out of the sky.”

Master Windu nods. “And how did you determine her to be a Jedi Knight?”

Anakin looks at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan frowns. “I felt her in the Force as well, Masters. When she first awoke, she used a Jedi technique to calm her mind.”

You bite back surprise, counting your breaths.

“Just as she does now,” Master Windu observes. “Tell us, young lady, who are you?”

How do they know what I’m doing, you wonder, staring at them all as the quiet voice finds a megaphone and begins screaming that something is very wrong.

“Jedi Knight Indra Bari,” you answer in character. There’s no way you’re giving these guys your legal name. There’s no telling who they are and what they’re up to. 

“Trained every youngling who has passed through this Temple for the last few hundred years, have I,” Master Yoda says, focusing on you. “Remember you, I do not.”

“Who trained you?” Master Windu narrows his eyes.

Something about their body language makes you feel slightly uncomfortable. They’re taking this a little too seriously, and it’s starting to freak you out. “I have been trained by many masters.”

“Such as?” Master Billaba asks.

“Master Lee and Master Barnes,” you say, listing two of the many martial arts masters you’ve studied under.

“Why do we have no record of you?” Master Shaak Ti asks.

You aren’t sure if you want to laugh or cry so you focus on your breathing instead. Because I’m not a member of your club, and if this is the way you go around recruiting people, I don’t wanna join, you think. What you say instead is, “Because I’m not from around here.” 

“Where are you from?” Master Plo Koon asks.

“Earth.” You smile, unwilling to break character for safety reasons. You know, just in case this is something more sinister than a casting call.

“How did you come to be on Ansion?” Master Windu continues to stare at you.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. “One moment, I was piloting home, and then a deer leapt in front of the vehicle before mine.”

“A deer?” Master Shaak Ti asks.

“A quadrupedal herbivore native to my planet,” you explain, rolling your eyes. Why is everyone so deep in character, you wonder. 

“What happened next?” Master Plo Koon asks.

“I reached out,” you extend your palm, echoing your earlier gesture, “and urged it to jump free of traffic. I sort of pushed the other vehicles to slow them down.”

“And then what?” Master Billaba prompts.

“There was another, larger vehicle behind me. I couldn’t stop it. The last thing I remember thinking was, ‘I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.”

“And?” You have to admit that the Windu cosplayer is uncannily accurate with his facial expressions.

“Anakin… err, Padawan Skywalker was asking me if I was alright,” you recall, trying not to blush in response to the memory.

“Tested you for Midichlorians, have we,” Yoda says, his tone somewhat gentler though no less suspicious than Windu's. “Force-sensitive you are. Dressed as a Jedi, you are. But know you, we do not. A mystery are you.”

“We have no proof or record of your existence prior to today, Knight. How do we know you aren’t a Sith?” Windu finally asks.

You bite the inside of your lip, considering how you want to play this. Usually you try to model your Jedi after Bruce Lee, but something about their accusations is setting you on edge. What kind of fan club grabs other cosplayers from the scene of a car accident and then drags them before an inquest? A significant part of you considers using verbal violence but then decides otherwise. You want me to prove I’m a Jedi? Then I will. Watch me. “How do you know anyone is not a Sith, Master Windu?”

“Excuse me?” Master Windu looks taken aback by your question.

“How do you know who is and who is not a Sith, Master Windu?” You repeat your question. “Anyone could be a Sith Lord, such as a former member of this Council, a future member of this council, or even yourself. How does the Order prove who is and who isn’t a Sith Lord? Short of using a red lightsaber or using one of the forbidden Force skills, how do you identify a Sith?” You smile inwardly, calmly awaiting their answers. If this is some sort of geekier-than-thou test of who knows their Star Wars lore, you intend to win it. Maybe that’s it, you suggest to the small voice. Maybe this is some sort of test to see who the biggest Star Wars fan of all time is.

“Suggesting a member of this council, a Sith Lord is, are you?” Master Yoda frowns, his expression too lifelike for an animatronic, and you find yourself wondering who the genius artist behind his makeup is.

“Not exactly, Master Yoda.” You smile, reminding yourself you know more about these characters and the lore than most people do. “But I find it curious that the one member of this council who practices Vaapad, experiments with the Dark Side, and has read the Books of the Sith is also the same one asking me if I’m a Sith Lord. Especially when the current Sith Apprentice is a former Jedi. One might argue that being a member of the Jedi Council is a trait shared by quite a few famous Sith Lords.”

“Know these things, how do you?” asks Master Yoda.

Feeling cheeky at obviously out-nerding them, you grin and pull the Han Solo shrug. “What can I say? I’m a student of the Force.”

“What you can say,” Master Windu says, “is who the current Sith Apprentice is.”

Something about the seriousness in his tone chills you. Damn, this guy is good. I wonder if he’s a character actor. “Darth Tyranus. Though since Anakin and Obi-Wan are fresh from Ansion, that means Darth Maul is still alive, hiding out from Darth Sidious on Lotho Minor,” you add, just in case this is a trick question.

“Know the identity of Darth Sidious, do you?” Master Yoda asks.

Frowning, the little voice asks you why none of these people have broken character even once. You’re tired of arguing with it. This immersive roleplaying experience hasn’t been nearly as fun as you would have said it would be prior to today. “Of course I do. Every fan does.”

“Fan?” Master Depa Billaba asks. “Of what?”

Sighing, you roll your eyes. “Sorry, I broke character. Y’all win.”

“Win what?” The cosplayer for Plo Koon also had a fantastic makeup artist. You find yourself wondering if it was the same person.

“Whatever weird game this is,” you say with a smile. “The sets are amazing, your acting skills are phenomenal, and I’ve had fun roleplaying with you. But it’s been an exhausting five days and I’m about all peopled out. So if you’ll point me to an exit and tell me where my car is, I’m ready to go home.”

Despite saying what you had imagined to be the safe words and clearly revoking your consent to continue whatever this intense LARP is, no one breaks character. No one yells cut, no one pulls back a curtain to reveal an exit door. Suddenly, you realize the words of the small voice have accumulated into a mountain of evidence beneath your feet. Panicking, you reach into your utility pouch, pulling out your cell and unlocking it only to realize wherever you are, your phone doesn’t have any signal. Something is horribly wrong, so wrong you swear a chasm is opening up beneath you and swallowing you whole, the darkness overtaking the edges of your vision as the overlapping voices of the Council cry out and you fall for what feels like forever, no longer even aware of the arms that catch you.

Chapter Text

The third time you open your eyes, you find the plain, white ceiling above you again. For half a heartbeat, you hope that means a hospital, and this has all been a bizarre dream. Unfortunately for you, your detail-oriented brain notices the ceiling — instead of being a drop ceiling with tiles like almost every hospital ceiling you’ve ever seen — appears to be made of a material you are unfamiliar with. You also don’t hear the steady beeping of any machines, the voices of nurses, or anything, really.

You sit up and start to get out of bed, but Anakin is suddenly there, holding his hands out for you to stop. “You probably shouldn’t do that.” He presses a button on his com. “She’s awake.”

Within moments, you are joined by the same woman from before, Healer Syva. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you bluff, feeling panicked. “Can I leave?”

Healer Syva narrows her eyes. “If you say so. You may leave the medbay, but you may not leave the Temple or exert yourself. Your body shows signs of extreme stress. I may have underestimated how depleted your system is and how much you overextended your Force abilities. I will come check on you tomorrow.” She turns to Anakin. “Please make sure she rests, Padawan.”

“Yes, Healer.” Anakin bows slightly, gesturing to the door. “My lady.”

Unnerved by his gallantry and still struggling to come to terms with what appears to be your current reality, you fight back tears as you get out of bed. “Why are you here?”

Anakin shrugs, looking somewhat awkward. “The Council wanted you to be escorted, my lady.”

You remind yourself that this is nineteen-year-old Anakin. Of course, he’s awkward.  “Yes, but where is your Master?” you ask clumsily.

Anakin’s face flushes, and you swear you can feel his annoyance. “Off on a different assignment with Master Secura.”

Frowning, your fandom brain reminds you what said mission must be and why Anakin feels so annoyed. You realize you’re probably the reason he wasn’t sent with Kenobi to protect Padmé, causing the Council to send someone else instead. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Anakin gives you a strange look as he leads you down another endless corridor.

Feeling entirely uncertain of what you should and shouldn’t say, you decide to stick to the present moment and not your knowledge of the canon, just to be on the safe side. “You seem upset.”

Anakin shakes his head. “My Master would say I’m the one that should be apologizing.”

“For what?” you ask him. “Having feelings?”

Anakin laughs and runs a hand through his short hair. “According to him, Jedi aren’t supposed to have feelings.”

“Mmmm,” you say noncommittally.

“What?” Anakin asks, turning around to walk backwards. “What would you tell me if I was your Padawan?”

Fighting the heat creeping into your cheeks, you shake your head. “I couldn’t be your Master, Anakin. Didn’t you hear the healer? I’m only a year older than you are.”

“Ok, then what would you say if I was your friend?” Anakin smiles one of his more charming smiles, clearly aware of the effect it has on people. Probably aware of the effect it has on you.

Blushing, you throw up your mental shields and reach for your white stone. “I would say feelings are our compass, and we should befriend them so they might teach us.”

Anakin looks thoughtful and nods, still walking backwards. “Even the bad ones?”

“There are no bad emotions,” you reply automatically, quoting your therapist. “Only parts of ourselves that deserve to be heard.”

“Are you sure you’re only a year older than me?” Anakin asks teasingly. “You sound wiser than Obi-Wan.”

Startled, you laugh. “Thank you, I think?”

“I definitely meant it as a compliment,” he says with a grin before spinning back around.

You find yourself smiling in response. As you walk down the hallway in a moment of silence, your brain finally catches up with itself, reminding you about your cellphone. You were holding it when you passed out.

“Hey, Anakin?” you ask. 

“Yeah?” He turns his head to look at you.

“Yesterday, before I blacked out, I was holding my … datapad. Do you know what happened to it?”

“Oh yeah.” Anakin reaches into his utility belt and hands it to you, a sheepish look on his face. “Here. Your screen cracked so I repaired it for you. I also noticed it had some sort of communication error so I connected it to the holonet for you. Never seen one that uses High Galactic for its graphic user interface before.”

“Thank you,” you say, placing the phone in your toolbelt, an odd emotion bubbling up in your chest. You find yourself so distracted by the unknown emotion you forget to shield your thoughts.

“Are you alright?” Anakin asks, staring at you.

“Yes,” you say automatically before realizing it’s a lie. “No, actually,” you correct yourself.

“Want to talk about it?” He slows down to walk beside you, shortening his strides to better match yours.

Part of you cautions confiding in anyone could have unknown consequences, especially because you don’t know what the rules are. Logically, you theorize you must be in a coma somewhere. But you have no idea how this place corresponds to or connects with your waking life. The rest of you is feeling lost, overwhelmed, and in desperate need of a friend. And knows that Anakin Skywalker is more than capable of being a loyal one. 

“I guess,” you finally say, realizing you still haven’t answered him. “I feel completely lost and overwhelmed. I just want to go home.”

Anakin nods. “Where is home?”

“Earth,” you reply, searching your memory for where Star Tours had placed it. “It’s in the Outer Rim.”

“What’s it like?” he asks as you walk.

Your mind immediately begins to replay Carl Sagan’s A Pale Blue Dot, and you find yourself crying. “It’s blue from space, mostly oceans with seven large continents covered in greenery and the most beautiful diversity of lifeforms you’ve ever seen.”

“It sounds amazing.” Anakin smiles. “My homeworld is a desert.”

“We have those too,” you say. “That’s one of the best things about Earth. We have deserts and swamps and jungles and mountains and frozen deserts and inland seas and even caves big enough to have their own atmosphere.”

Anakin’s blue eyes widen. “Wow, it sounds wizard. Which part was your favorite?”

“The forests,” you answer without hesitation. “We have soooo many kinds of trees. From giants that take twenty people to reach around to little miniature ones that you shape as a form of meditation practice.”

Anakin laughs. “That sounds so much better than sitting on a mat.”

You shrug, smiling again. Anakin seems to excel at inspiring you to do so. “Some people do better with a moving meditation than a stationary one.”

Anakin shakes his head, grinning at you. “You are a strange Jedi, my lady.”

“How so?” You frown at him, reminded once again this is not your world, or even your galaxy, for that matter.

“You aren’t as stuffy as most of them, for one,” he says, leading you around the correct corner of an intersection in the hallways.

Caught off-guard, you laugh a little. “Stuffy?”

Anakin gives you a look. “Yeah, stuffy. I’ve met astromechs with more personality than most Jedi.”

This only makes you laugh even more. When you finally catch your breath, you’re smiling so wide your cheeks hurt. “You’re a pretty weird Jedi, too, you know. Most Jedi would have told me to let go of my home, not asked me to tell them about it.”

Anakin shrugs. “You said we should make friends with our feelings. I thought maybe it would help you to talk about it.”

“Now who’s wiser than Kenobi?” you quip, causing Anakin to nearly choke on his laughter.

An older Jedi glares at you two as he walks past, obviously displeased by the amount of noise you’re making.

“Shhh…” you say, trying desperately to control your laughter.

Like you, Anakin is laughing so hard he’s shaking. When he catches his breath again, he grins at you. “What are they gonna do, throw us in detention together?”

Although you have no desire to visit the Jedi detention block, you have to admit it wouldn’t be so bad as long as you were with Anakin. Suddenly, part of you realizes he’s the only thing tethering you to sanity right now. Instead of panicking over your situation you’re genuinely enjoying spending time with him. An unexpected wave of tenderness washes over you as you remember all the horrors that will break him over the next few years. Your laughter fades, leaving you staring at him with a deep sense of sorrow for the loss of such a vibrant and beautiful soul. You find yourself wanting to hug him, to wrap your friendship around him like a shield to protect him from all of the pain.

Anakin pauses, looking back at you in return, a look of uncertainty on his face. “Did I say something wrong, my lady?”

For a moment, you panic, wondering what you should say to him. How do you tell someone you’re mourning their future? You don’t. Pushing those thoughts away, you force yourself to smile. “No, sorry. My mind was wandering. It likes to do that sometimes.”

Anakin appears somewhat uncertain. “Are you sure?”

Something in his tone of voice chips away at the wall you’ve been putting up to contain your emotional distress. You shrug, searching for the right words. “I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Anakin gives you another searching look. “You seem upset.”

Sighing, you struggle to contain the tears threatening to ruin your composure. “I am. I’m the farthest from home I’ve ever been, with no way back and no clue how I got here. I’m utterly alone and completely terrified.”

Anakin frowns, steering you to an elevator. “I know what that’s like.” He presses a button and looks at you, sincerity written across his face. “You don’t have to face this alone if you don’t want to.”

Overwhelmed by another wave of homesickness and the terror of realizing you may never see your home again, his meaning doesn’t entirely register with your overtaxed brain, still struggling as it is with your current situation. “I don’t?”

Anakin shrugs awkwardly, and for the briefest of moments, the young man is gone, replaced by a glimpse of the vulnerable youngling who won the Boonta Eve Classic. “I don’t have many friends in the Order,” he confesses. “But I think I’d like to be yours if you want.”

Anakin’s word choice stirs an entirely new set of feelings, leaving you staggering against the emotional onslaught. “I would like that.”

Anakin grins at you as the elevator opens to a glimpse of the sunset. “Good.” He gestures towards the open door. “After you, my lady.”

You step out onto the Jedi Temple roof in time to see the sun setting over Coruscant, the sky between the buildings turning orange and pink and purple as the light fades.

Anakin moves to stand beside you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You nod, wiping away one of the tears starting to fall.

“Believe it or not, I actually brought you up here to show you something else,” he says, walking away.

Turning, you follow him to find a tree growing on the Temple roof.

“Master Yoda showed it to me when I was feeling lost.”

Even though it looks nothing like the trees from home, your nerd brain reminds you this particular Force-sensitive tree — like several species on earth — is part of a single, sentient colony mind formed of thousands of interconnected trunks. Or would be if it wasn’t trapped here alone in this ecumenopolis. This sudden recognition of kindred spirits destroys the last of the floodwalls holding back your tears. Unfettered, they pour from your eyes as you wrap your arms around the uneti tree’s trunk and cry.

Anakin comes to stand nearby, waiting patiently.

You pour emotions out to the tree, allowing all the confusion and fear to wash out of your body with every teardrop. Eventually, the deluge of mourning drains completely, leaving you feeling empty, but more clear-headed than you have since this began. Something about the tree soothes you in a way you don’t entirely understand.

“Feel better?” Anakin asks as you begin dabbing your eyes on the hems of your sleeves.

“A little.” You shrug, the growling of your stomach sounding more like a rancor than anything human.

Anakin chuckles, smiling at you. “Let’s go get some food.” He takes you to an elevator and down to a room whose Aurebesh signage indicates it’s a refectory. 

You estimate this particular dining hall could hold about a hundred people and seems to be mostly empty this time of the day. You find yourself grateful to Anakin for choosing this one. Right now you don’t feel like being around large numbers of people.

Anakin leads you to what appears to be a buffet of sorts, clean plates and flatware waiting at the ends of the long, covered food stations. He grabs a dish and begins loading it up, piling the plate high with foodstuffs. You grab a dish of your own and then pause, panic creeping up on you as you suddenly realize you have no idea what any of the food actually is.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there when Anakin walks up beside you, picking up a couple of long wraps of some sort and adding them to your plate along with some pastries. Grabbing both plates, he beelines to a specific booth in the corner and sets down both plates before sitting down himself, his back to the wall. Wordlessly, you follow behind, sitting down across from him when you reach the booth.

“Here,” he says, sliding your plate towards you. “These are the best thing for someone who’s been on rations for too long. They’re called franikhads, used to eat them all the time on Tatooine as a kid. And those…” he points to the pastries, “are buttersweet puffs. Sweet, comforting, and the best way to recover morale.”

The franikhads are actually delicious, reminding you of the homemade tamales your neighbors in high school used to make you as a thank you for tutoring their kid. The buttersweet puffs are just as Anakin said; sweet, comforting, and already improving your mood.

Anakin devours his food almost as quickly as you scarf down yours, only now realizing the last thing you ate was breakfast this morning; you had intended to stop for lunch somewhere on the way home.

“Thanks,” you say, finishing off the last bite of food.

“No problem.” Anakin shrugs and gets up to clear both of your places, back at the table before you can even register what happened. “You ready?” He asks. 

You nod and stand up, following him back out of the dining hall. “Where to now?”

Anakin smiles sheepishly. “Your assigned quarters, my lady. I probably should have taken you there right away but it seemed like you needed the tree.”

“I did, thank you.” Ten thousand questions swirl in your mind but Anakin’s words have reminded you just how exhausted you are.

Anakin leads you through more yet more labyrinthine corridors and part of you wonders if you will ever be able to find your way around this behemoth building without his aid. The rest of you balks at the thought of staying here long enough for that to be important and you shut the entire argument behind several mental walls, certain you’re too bone-weary to be capable of rational thought.

You follow Anakin to a suite of rooms about the size of a small apartment; two bedrooms with a sitting room and a fresher. Grateful for the opportunity for some much-needed alone time, you bid him goodnight and collapse onto the bed, noticing how quickly it conforms to your body shape. 

Despite your weariness and the comfortable cocoon of a bed, you find to your chagrin you cannot immediately fall asleep. Instead, your mind is nearly exploding with the onslaught of thoughts and feelings you’ve been repressing all day. Am I in a coma somewhere? you wonder. Did I die? Is this a hallucination created by my mind to shield me from the trauma and pain my body is experiencing? Why does it feel so real? Am I really in Star Wars? How did I get here? How do I get home? If I die here does my body die too? Is dying how I get back? This has to be a dream or some sort of delusion, right? I’m not actually Force-sensitive. Am I?

Your mind thinks back to all the little coincidences throughout your life; all the times you’ve known what someone was about to say before they said it, the times you’ve persuaded someone to help you, how little things seem to work out for you no matter how difficult your life gets. But that doesn’t mean I’m Force-sensitive. Does it? But what about that time Mom was chopping vegetables and I knew she was going to get hurt and I didn’t say anything and she cut part of her finger off? The guilt you felt in that moment is such a core memory it still haunts you. And what about the deer? It certainly felt like I did something back there.

But Star Wars isn’t even real, is it? Is it? You toss and turn in the bed, rolling over as if doing so will somehow iron out the tangled web of thoughts swirling in your mind. What if it is though? What if the Force is just another word for the Tao? What if Lucas didn’t really invent things so much as record his memories of a distant past life? What if we gravitate to this fandom because some distant part of our souls remembers this as well?

Slowly, with each unanswered question, as you begin to unravel your thoughts and feelings, your body relaxes. Eventually you drift off to sleep, your mind still gnawing at the edges of the strangest puzzle you’ve ever found yourself in.

Chapter Text

When you finally wake up, you are filled with peace for the briefest of moments, your sleepy mind tricked into thinking the last day was a dream. As soon as you open your eyes, however, the illusion vanishes as swiftly as mist in the morning sun. Instead of waking up in your comfortable bedroom, full of its familiar furnishings and decor, the sight that greets your eyes is the austere minimalism of the Jedi Temple. Groaning, you sit up, groggily realizing you’re wearing the same clothes you’ve had on since yesterday morning and are in desperate need of a shower. Or whatever passes for one in the Jedi Temple. Given how sore your whole body is, you hope it’s a fresher with actual water and not that awful sonic nonsense you’ve read about.

Much to your surprise, not only is the fresher equipped with the most impressive shower you’ve ever seen, but also a tub. A smile on your face, you gleefully disrobe and open the door to the enclosed shower, immediately testing each of the dials and knobs to see what they do. After a few tries, you figure out that one operates the three horizontal shower heads, one operates the overhead shower head, one operates the hand-held sprayer, and one controls the temperature. Having adjusted each nozzle for maximum pressure and ideal temperature, you stand in the downpour, allowing the pounding hot water to massage your aching muscles. At the same time, your brain mulls over the events of the day before.

Okay, so I woke up in Star Wars. Whether that means I’m dead, comatose, hallucinating, or was magically transported — you laugh out loud at this thought — here I am. Complete with Anakin Skywalker, you think, smiling as you remember how kind he’s been. Why is he here, though? I know he said the Council wanted me to be escorted, but why him? Why not send him off with Kenobi and assign Aayla or another Jedi to mind me? And why do I need minding? Because I keep passing out or because I might be a Sith Lord? Scowling, you dial back the water pressure, grab what appears to be a washcloth, and look for some soap. 

There appear to be several different options for you to choose from, each labeled neatly in Aurebesh. Surprisingly, none of the soaps have an unpleasant smell or irritate your allergies; on the contrary, you find yourself really enjoying the smell of one of them. You lather up your cloth and set to scrubbing as though your confusion can be scoured away if you simply try hard enough.

Master Windu’s suggestion you might be a Sith Lord still bothers you. Maybe it’s because he reminds you of your Tai Chi instructor, maybe it’s because his character was one of your favorites, or maybe it’s because no one has ever called you evil before. Either way, his words still sting. How can I prove I’m not a Sith Lord, you ask yourself. Let them probe my memories? No. Even if I were comfortable with strangers rummaging around in my thoughts, them knowing what I know could potentially be disastrous. Especially for Anakin. Whether or not this entire experience is just a product of your imagination, you can’t quite bring yourself to do anything that might harm or betray him. He’s your only friend here; you’d be lost without him.

Exiting the shower, you wrap yourself in a large, soft towel and return to your bedroom, only now realizing how little you want to put back on yesterday’s clothing. Hoping the same someone who stocked your fresher also left you some clean clothes, you rummage around in the drawers to find there are, in fact, a standard issue set of Jedi robes and even a set of thinskins. Thank the Force, you think, putting them on.

Feeling much more human and in a far better mood, you enter the sitting room to find Anakin there waiting for you.

“Good Morning, my lady,” he says with a smile.

“Good Morning, Anakin,” you respond. 

“I grabbed you some food,” he says, offering you a covered dish. “You slept through breakfast, so I brought some back for you. I hope you like it.”

“Thank you,” you say, sitting down and opening up the covered dish. Whatever it is, the food is still steaming when you open the insulated lid. 

“Bantha butter pancakes, nausage, and meteor eggs,” Anakin says, naming the foods for you. “I also grabbed you some flatware and eating sticks because I didn’t know which you would prefer.”

True to his word, you find a fork, knife, spoon, and a pair of chopsticks bundled into a slot in the food container’s lid. “Thank you,” you say, smiling at him before pulling out a utensil and cutting into your pancake.

“Of course, my lady.” Anakin smiles as though he isn’t used to being thanked. “Healer Syva commed, she said she’d be stopping by around thirteen hundred hours.”

Nodding, you swallow a sticky bite of pancake, wishing you had some water.

“Oh, I forgot.” Anakin pulls out three cylindrical containers. “Stimcaf,” he says, placing one on the low table in front of you. “And water. I didn’t know if you like sweetened bantha milk in your stimcaf or not, so I brought some of that, too.”

Something about the innocence of his gesture and how much he is trying to be helpful stirs an unexpected emotional response. You find yourself grabbing the water container and drinking some while you blink away your tears. If only he could stay this kind forever and never become Vader, you think. 

“Is everything alright?” Anakin is watching you intently.

Not trusting yourself to speak just yet, you shrug, opening up the bantha milk and adding some to your stimcaf until it’s the perfect color.

“Have I done something to offend you?” he asks.

“No.” You blink back the tears you’re still struggling to restrain. “Not at all. I just… you’re being so nice to me.”

Anakin appears confused. “Aren’t friends supposed to be nice to each other?”

“Yes.” You drink some more water; you read somewhere it’s a great way to keep from crying.

“But you seem upset.” Anakin frowns. 

“Not with you.” You take a bite of your eggs, searching for the right words. It’s not like you can exactly tell him you’re terrified of the man he will become in the next few years. “I spent my whole life wanting to be a Jedi, and now that I’m here…” You trail off, shrugging, trying not to feel sorry for yourself. “The Council thinks I’m a Sith Lord.”

“Master Windu thinks you’re a Sith Lord,” Anakin comments. “But obviously, the others don’t agree with him or you wouldn’t be in Jedi quarters, you’d be down in the detention block.”

Realizing he has a point, you nod and take a sip of stimcaf. “You’re right. I guess I just wanted my first visit to the Jedi Temple to be… different. Not so terrifying.”

Anakin chuckles. “Tell me about it.”

You find yourself imagining how much more terrifying his experience would have been as a nine-year-old survivor of child trauma. Unfortunately, you can’t say that to him. What you can do, however, is ask. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Anakin runs a hand through his short, spiky hair. “I was completely terrified. Especially of Master Windu. He seemed so angry with me, and I didn’t know why.”

“Sounds familiar,” you say with a smile.

Anakin chuckles. “Believe it or not, they actually sent me away and told me I couldn’t become a Jedi.”

“Wow,” you say, unwilling to lie to him by feigning surprise but also unwilling to risk your friendship by telling him what all you know.

“Yep.” He smiles at you. “Eventually, they changed their minds, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you repeat with a smile.

A chime at the door interrupts your friendly banter.

Anakin gets up to answer it, admitting Healer Syva.

“Good afternoon, Knight Bari,” Healer Syva greets you. You nod at her, setting down your drink. “Good afternoon, Healer.”

“I need to take a sample.” Healer Syva approaches you with what you can only assume is a syringe of some sort, which she uses to draw your blood and deposit a sample into a device connected to her datapad.

It’s not any scarier than a glucose check, you tell yourself, trying to find some sort of reassurance in the moment.

“Hmm,” Healer Syva says. “Your electrolyte levels are better, but your inflammation markers are higher than we would like them to be. It seems like you’ve been run ragged lately. Tough assignment?”

Remembering how many miles your phone logged over the weekend, you chuckle. “You could say that.”

“Your midichlorian levels are also still recovering. What did you do to drain them so deeply?” Healer Syva sounds curious, but there’s an odd tone to her voice as though she’s been coached to ask you.

“I don’t know,” you answer her honestly, thinking about the vitality cost for Force powers in the various games you’ve played over the years. “Neither mind trick nor move object should have drained me that much.”

Healer Syva smiles and shrugs. “Oh well, when you figure it out, I’d love to know. Call it a matter of professional curiosity.” 

Sure, we can call it that, you think. Or we can call it what it really is: the Council sending you to do their dirty work for them. What you say instead is, “Of course, Healer Syva.”

“You seem to be healing well.” The older woman smiles at you. “But I would refrain from using your Force abilities for at least another week. You may practice and train, but I would urge you to stick to meditation and gentler forms of training for the time being. No sparring. No Force practice. Understood?”

It’s not exactly like I know how I’m using the Force in the first place, you think. “Yes, Healer Syva,” you respond.

She stops to stare at Anakin, giving him a stern look. “Please make sure she listens.”

Anakin nods, any hint of his playfulness absent. “Yes, Healer.”

Why does she keep instructing Anakin to make sure I do things, you wonder. Is he supposed to be my babysitter? And why does she insist I overused my Force abilities when I didn’t even know I was Force-sensitive until yesterday? But if I am, what did I do? And how did I do whatever I did? Could I learn to control this ability and use it to go back home?

Anakin turns to you and sighs dramatically. “There goes our chances of having any fun for the day.”

Feeling unsettled by all the questions you still have no answer to, you fake a smile. “That’s okay, I thought I’d ask you to help me find the library.” If you’re going to be stuck in the Jedi Temple, you might as well learn everything you can. Maybe you’ll find some answers that way.

The moment you enter the Jedi Temple Archives, your geeky little bibliophile heart soars with joy, your eyes taking in the expansive, vaulted room with its two stories’ worth of bookshelves. Of all the places you’ve been in the Jedi Temple, this one feels the safest, the most like home.

Anakin leads you up to the resource desk, a rounded hub in the center of the rotunda. Your eyes catch sight of a familiar, weathered face, gray hair piled high in a bun and secured with two hairsticks. 

Master Nu turns to greet you as you approach. “It’s good to see you, Anakin,” she says with a smile, eyes sparkling with true joy. “How did your mission go?”

“It went well, thanks to your help, Master Nu.” Anakin smiles back at her in return. “I was wondering if perhaps you could assist my friend?” Anakin gestures to indicate you.

Madame Jocasta turns to look at you, her friendly smile a panacea against the unwelcomeness you’ve felt from other members of the Order. Something about her energy immediately sets you at ease, inspiring an irrational certainty that she is someone else you can trust. “How may I be of service to you, Knight?”

The emotional part of you — your child brain who had always fantasized about the Order being a safe and welcoming space —  wants to impulsively ask her for a hug. But the adult who has studied the Jedi Order knows better. “I believe I may have unconsciously used a new Force ability and would like to learn more about it.”

Master Nu nods approvingly. “You have come to the right place, child. Come with me.”

Master Nu leads you down one of the wings, which branch off of the rotunda to a section of holobooks. “This is our resource section on Force Abilities. Or those that have been sanctioned by the Order. I’m afraid forbidden abilities are stored securely and require approval from a Council Member to access.”

You nod, wondering how these are organized. 

As if responding to your unasked question, Master Nu continues. “This category is broken down into three main sub-sections: abilities which require you to sense the Force, those which require you to alter the Force, and those which require you to control the Force.”

You frown. While this organization makes sense, you don’t quite understand how you would look up what you need. Am I just supposed to close my eyes and let the Force guide me?

Master Nu smiles, seeming to sense your confusion. “This is why I, and the library droids, are here. These books are cross-referenced based on various topics within them. Can you tell me more about this ability you used? Perhaps then I can assist you in locating a suitable text.”

Oh, you think. On the one hand, it’s an excellent way to encourage community and interdependence. On the other, it’s an excellent way to maintain oversight and control over knowledge. As the child who used to sneak into the adult area of the library so you could raid the SciFi section, this level of librarian oversight bothers you. But at the same time, there’s no way you could find the information you want on your own. “I experienced a brush with death,” you say, carefully choosing your words. “In that moment, I reached for the Force, and everything went dark. When I awoke, I was on another planet, in another star system entirely. And the Healer says I’ve overtaxed myself by doing whatever I did.”

Master Nu’s blue eyes widen and then contract as she frowns. “My dear, I do not know that we have any information about that in the general archives. Had you been piloting a ship,” she pulls a holobook down, thumbing to a specific page. “I would have said it was instinctive astrogation. Which it sounds like you may have used. But moving your body through space without a vehicle is an ability found only in the oldest of ancient Jedi Lore of large Force creatures who swim through space, jumping from galaxy to galaxy. There has not been much written about it because prior to now, it has been considered little more than legend.” Master Nu hands you the book. “This may be of some use to you, though I doubt it will help as much as you would like. Your best bet would be to speak with Master Yoda about this. As the oldest among us, he may know more than I. And certainly, as a Council Member, if the information you seek is contained in a holocron, he could grant you access to open it. May the Force be with you, young one. And if I may be of any further assistance, you know where to find me.” She smiles kindly at you and walks away.

“Sounds like something Huyang used to tell us,” Anakin comments after Nu has left. “About the Force Witches who rode space whales into our galaxy.”

“Well, I definitely didn’t ride a whale here,” you comment with a chuckle. “Unless you saw it spit me out or drop me off.”

Anakin laughs and shakes his head. “No, more like a puff of blue, almost like some sort of portal had opened up and dumped you out.”

“Why didn’t you say that before the council?” you ask. 

“I did,” he says with a shrug. “You just weren’t conscious for that part.”

Anakin’s statement only has the unfortunate side effect of reminding you that he caught you, twice. Trying not to blush, you focus on your stone, reminding yourself no matter how cute he might be or how friendly he is now, he’s also the man who chokes his pregnant wife in three years’ time. Even if getting entangled with Anakin Skywalker wasn’t a bright plan on its own, you have a mission: find out what’s going on with you and how you got here so you can maybe get back home. Belatedly, you realize Anakin is staring at you. “What?”

“I was just wondering where you went, is all.” He shrugs. “You do that thing Obi-Wan does when he’s trying to unravel a puzzle.”

“I do?” You give him a look, uncertain how you feel being compared to Kenobi, especially by Anakin.

“Yeah.” He gives you a look. “You disappear into your own mind for a while. Figure anything out while you were in there?”

“No,” you say. “Not really. Just that I need to talk to Master Yoda.”

Chapter Text

After a stop by a different dining hall than the one you visited last night, Anakin takes you to meet Master Yoda in one of the round meditation chambers. 

“Greetings, young ones.” Master Yoda acknowledges your presence with a nod. “My thanks to you, young Skywalker. See you later, we shall.”

Anakin bows and exits the room, leaving you alone with Master Yoda.

“A seat, please take, young one.” Master Yoda smiles kindly at you.

You find yourself relaxing somewhat in his calming presence. Perhaps it is because he is the Master who trains younglings, or perhaps it is because you imprinted on Wendy Froud’s fantastic puppet as a child. Either way, you find yourself relaxing in Master Yoda’s presence the way you have not since you arrived, so much so tears begin to fall before you can stop them.

“Scared, are you.” Master Yoda observes quietly. “Uncertain who to trust, you are, mmmm.” He takes a seat on a cushion opposite yours and looks at you, an obvious kindness in his eyes. “Safe you are, young one. Harm you, I will not. Help you, I will.”

As though Master Yoda’s words were the key, the floodgates holding your emotions at bay burst open, pouring forth a cascade of tears.

“When ready to tell me what has happened, are you, listen, I will.” Master Yoda smiles at you gently, looking so much like a statue of Buddha a small bubble of comfort rises up inside of you. Perhaps here is not so different from home after all. Perhaps the way can be found by its students in all things, even Star Wars.

The small bubble rises to your heart, expanding into hope, slowing your crying from a deluge to scattered raindrops. “Thank you, Master Yoda,” you say. This moment is what you had hoped to find here, this peace.

Master Yoda smiles, nodding his head, clearly waiting for you to continue.

Encouraged by the safety and serenity you feel, you decide to confide in Master Yoda. After all, if this whole experience is a projection of your mind, then Yoda is a symbol created by your own psyche. Whether he is real or not, you should be able to trust him. “I don’t know what happened, Master Yoda. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t even know if any of this is real.”

“Mmm,” Master Yoda frowns. “Real, why would this not be?”

You bite your lip, a splash of fear washing over you. Then, the feeling of comfort returns. Either way, I can trust him. “Because I’ve wanted to be a Jedi my whole life, but everyone on my planet would say that is impossible.”

“Trained, have you?” Master Yoda asks.

“Yes,” you answer honestly. You take martial arts classes, practice meditation, and study the cultural lore that inspired the Force. You’ve even thought about joining one of the Temples on Earth and becoming a ‘real’ Jedi.

“Then impossible, why would it be?” Master Yoda asks. “Many things, impossible seem. Through the Force, impossible, nothing is. You being here, the will of the Force is.”

You nod, wiping away your tears. “But what if I died or am really in a coma somewhere, and this is all just happening in my mind?”

Master Yoda chuckles. “Then the will of the Force it most certainly is.”

You aren’t sure if you want to laugh or cry. Or scream. Or all three. So you sit there, counting your breaths in a calming square. You’ve counted through them three whole times before you feel ready to speak again. “But how did I get here, Master Yoda? Master Nu said instinctive astrogation requires a vehicle for traveling through space. Anakin said it reminded him of a story about space whales. But he also said I came out of a portal. None of this makes any sense!”

“A mystery to solve, the Force has given us.” Yoda smiles. “Together, solve it, we will.”

You sigh, feeling frustrated that even Master Yoda doesn’t have any answers but comforted that you have another ally. Three friends among the members of the Jedi Order is a dramatic improvement over yesterday.

“Questions I have,” Master Yoda announces. “Ready to answer them, are you?”

Sighing, you nod your head. Dream or not, it feels like you’re supposed to trust him. “Yes, Master Yoda.”

“Know the identity of the Sith Lords, how do you?” he asks.

You should have known he would ask this. But you’ve been so focused on your own problems you haven’t been focusing on your Jedi defense. An excerpt from the Journal of the Whills floats through your mind as if the Force itself is answering you. 

The truth in our soul
Is that nothing is true.
The question of life
Is what then do we do?
The burden is ours
To penance we hew.
The Force binds us all
From a certain point of view. ¹

Inspired by the words, you opt for honesty, or at least a version of it that will be palatable to him and not betray Anakin. “I have seen them, Master Yoda.”

“Seen them, how have you?” 

You shrug, searching for the right words; words which will be true for both of you. “The Whills showed me their journal, Master. In it, I saw many things: the rise of the Sith, the coming of a war, the creation of a clone army, the fall of the Jedi and the Republic, the tyranny of a Sith Empire followed by a New Republic, and then a New Imperial Order.”

“A lot, that is,” Master Yoda observes. “Details, know you?”

Laughing, you have to admit to yourself you were born for this moment. “Details? Sir, this is my hyperfocus. When Senator Amidala arrived, she narrowly missed being assassinated. Chancellor Palpatine suggested Kenobi to be her bodyguard. Sometime soon, in the middle of the night, Kenobi will sense something is wrong and discover a Clawdite bounty hunter named Zam Wesell has sent a droid with two kouhuns to Senator Amidala’s apartment. He will intercept the bounty hunter, but her employer will kill her before she can name him.”

“Know his name, do you?” Yoda asks. 

“Jango Fett,” you say. “Kenobi will trace him to Kamino, where he will discover that Master Sifo-Dyas, or someone posing as him, has ordered an army of clones for the Republic. He will follow Jango to Geonosis where he will be captured for execution by Count Dooku and the separatists. Many of the rescue team you send will die, officially starting what will become known as the Clone Wars.”

Master Yoda studies you for several silent moments. “More, there is.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Of course, there’s more. Master Yoda, the Journal of the Whills covers information from the founding of the Je’daii Order on Tython to several hundred years from now. In multiple timelines.”

Master Yoda narrows his eyes. “Left parts out, have you. Sense this is connected to Skywalker, I do.”

Busted, you think, mentally reaching for your white stone. “You have already altered his future, Master Yoda. In the Journal of the Whills he goes to protect Amidala with Kenobi.”

Master Yoda raises his eyebrow. “Still more there is, I feel.”

Part of your brain starts panicking, and you struggle to remain calm. What am I supposed to do? Tell him everything? They’ll never trust Anakin if I do, and Palpatine will still win him over. What if I tell him part of it? Anakin’s going to be so hurt. More hurt than if I tell them about Darth Vader? Or his mother? No. There has to be another way. I won’t hurt my friend unless it’s the only way to save him. “None of what I know has happened yet, Master. Anakin may yet take a different path. He doesn’t deserve to be judged or punished for things he hasn’t done yet.”

“Attached to him, are you?” Master Yoda asks.

The question hits you harder than you’re expecting. Am I attached to Anakin? No more than any other Star Wars nerd is. No, he’s just my friend. And really, I’ve only known him for a day. Anything more is just parasocial attachment to a fictional character. “No more than I am to you, Master Yoda. I am attached to your whole galaxy and everything about it. I have been since I was a baby and started pretending sticks were lightsabers.”

Master Yoda nods. “Still, know what to watch for, would I like.”

Your brain freezes, caught in indecision. Anakin is your friend. And even if he wasn’t, you’ve spent countless hours of your life trying to figure out how they could have saved him. And even if this is a fantasy, the Force seems to be giving you the opportunity to do so. What if I only tell him what is already true and not what is yet to happen? “Anakin’s attachment to two individuals causes him a great deal of suffering, Master Yoda. But I worry that in telling you who they are and why the attachments are an issue, the Order will isolate him and cause him even more harm. I also worry the egos of the Council will be unable to accept the idea.”

“Telling the Council, you are not. Telling me you are. Trust me, you can.” Yoda stares at you, waiting patiently.

Taking a deep breath, you choose to answer him. Sorry, Anakin. “As a young traumatized child, Anakin imprinted upon two individuals: Queen Padmé Amidala and Senator Sheev Palpatine of Naboo.”

Master Yoda nods his head. “Know this, I do. An excuse to keep young Skywalker away from the former Queen and the Chancellor, the Force provided us, in you.”

Master Yoda’s words take you by surprise. You didn’t realize he knew. 

“Why think these are a problem, do you?” he asks.

“In the Journal of the Whills, he and the Senator fall in love and are secretly married,” you answer. 

Master Yoda gives you another look. “The other, tell me.”

Sighing, you have to admit you’ve been delaying this as long as you can. “Chancellor Palpatine has been providing Anakin with the emotional support and encouragement he needs for years. He will use this to poison Anakin’s mind, make him paranoid, isolate him from his support system, and ultimately turn him against the Jedi Order.”

“Palpatine’s motivations for doing this, know you?” asks Master Yoda.

“He is the Sith Lord, Master Yoda. He is Darth Sidious, former apprentice to Darth Plagueis, who was apprenticed to Darth Tenebrous. He is the culmination of their thousand-year plan to destroy the Jedi Order and take over the Galaxy.”

“Skywalker’s role in this, what is?” Master Yoda asks.

“He’s the Chosen One,” you answer without hesitation. His destiny is to take the place of the Father in the Force.

Master Yoda studies you for several silent moments before speaking again. “More questions for you, will I have. For now, talk to Skywalker, I shall. And take action, I must. Ask Skywalker to join us, will you?”

You swallow and nod, feeling deeply relieved to have told someone and been believed. You can only hope you have said enough to protect Anakin and no more or less. Whether this is your fantasy or your destiny, you have the once-in-a-lifetime chance to change the course of galactic history and save lives. So that’s what you’re going to do, beginning with Anakin.

You find Anakin waiting in a circular alcove down the hall, leaning up against the wall with obvious boredom. “How’d it go?” he asks, standing up straight. 

“Master Yoda wants to speak with both of us,” you say.

“Uh oh.” He chuckles. “You didn’t get us thrown in detention, did you?”

Anakin’s words hit a little too close to home. You don’t know if this will all end in detention for you both; you did just tell Yoda Anakin was already being groomed by a Sith Lord. “I hope not,” you joke, faking a calm you don’t actually feel. “I haven’t read my library books.”

Anakin’s responding chuckle feels somewhat reassuring.

Yoda is still sitting in the same place you left him. “Extending your Council assignment, I am, Skywalker. Until completed his mission, Kenobi has, temporarily serve as Knight Bari’s Padawan, you will.”

“Master, I–” Anakin begins, his face a storm of emotions.

Master Yoda raises his hand to silence the Padawan. “Aware of your feelings, I am, young Skywalker. Part of my decision, they are. Forbidden from contacting the Chancellor, are you.”

Beside you, Anakin seems ready to explode. “This is outrageous, Master Yoda! Why are you punishing me? What did I do?”

Anakin’s words hit a little harder than you expect. Am I part of what he considers his punishment?

“Nothing wrong, have you done. Need you on a more important assignment, we do. Distracted, we need you not.” Master Yoda looks at you and then at Anakin. “Too much dangerous knowledge, this Jedi has. If capture her, our enemies do, destroyed will we be. Protect her, you must. “

Something about the way Yoda says this sounds more like an attempt to distract a child from an emotional outburst than it does the truth. That or you aren’t used to thinking of yourself as important, and the idea you would be important enough to require security is laughable. This is probably just his way of fending off a Skywalker meltdown, you rationalize. 

Judging from Anakin’s body language, Master Yoda’s distractionary tactic has worked. Anakin’s hands unclench, and he stands up taller. “Yes, Master.”

Master Yoda then looks at you. “Handle this in my own way, I will. But worry not, young one. Investigation of your claims, already begun has. More questions will I have. Stay safe, you must.”

“Yes, Master Yoda.” You nod. “Thank you.”

“Young one, thanking you I should be. Proven yourself a Jedi this day, have you. With you, the Force is.”

Master Yoda’s words bring a sudden warmth to your heart, and you have a sudden impulse to hug him.

Master Yoda laughs, standing up, and walks towards you with his arms open. “Hug me, you may.”

Bending down, you wrap your arms around Master Yoda, your heart overflowing with peace and gratitude. Even if this is just a dream, getting to hug Master Yoda is making your inner child happier than she ever could have dreamed.

Your bucolic mood doesn’t last long, however. You can tell by the set of Anakin’s shoulders and the speed with which he’s walking that he isn’t nearly as calm as he was pretending to be back in the meditation chambers under Master Yoda’s watchful eye.

When you finally reach your assigned quarters, Anakin throws himself down on the furniture, a scowl on his face. You pause for a moment, considering, knowing full well this is another critical moment hinging upon your choice. You can either leave Anakin to stew in his own anger or help him greet his anger as a friend. 

“You seem upset,” you say, considering it safest to start with the obvious.

“I am,” Anakin answers. “It isn’t fair. I was supposed to be on that mission with Master Kenobi.”

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” you say. “You still would be if it wasn’t for me.”

Anakin sighs and scowls. “No, it’s not … I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at them.” He gestures towards the Temple. “At the Council. At Master Yoda. They don’t trust me.”

A pang of guilt reminds you that you are definitely a part of it. You did just confirm Master Yoda’s suspicions after all. “They must trust you to some degree, or they wouldn’t have given you a solo mission to protect me,” you say, trying to reassure him as he did you earlier today.

“Yeah, I guess,” he grumbles. “Why do you need protecting anyway? What do you know? Is this more Sith Lord stuff?”

You laugh awkwardly, wondering what the hell you should say. “I told him I didn’t know how I got here and asked for his help. He basically told me it was the will of the Force.”

Anakin chuckles. “Sounds about right. You were in there for a pretty long time, though. What else did you say?”

You sigh, searching for an answer that will be honest but also shield him from the truth. You aren’t ready to deal with his ‘my mentor and father figure is not a Sith Lord’ meltdown. “He asked me more questions.”

“About Sith Lord stuff?” Anakin persists.

“Fine, yes, about Sith Lord stuff,” you answer, feeling frustrated with him.

“Kark, why are you so sensitive about it? I was just asking a question.” Anakin scowls at you.

“Why are you so persistent?” you ask.

“Because I thought we were friends, and it was something you were worried about.” Anakin looks ready to explode. “So now I don’t get to see Padmé, I can’t talk to Palpatine about it, and you’re mad at me. Great.”

“Anakin.” You take a deep breath, uncertain if you want to scream or cry or throw up. “I’m not mad at you. I’m still worried. And feeling guilty,” you admit.

“About what?” He’s still scowling.

“About you not being able to see your friends because of me,” you confess. “I’m the one who messed this all up. So, on top of being stranded far, far away from home and the Council investigating me, I’ve ruined your day. Maybe even your life, I don’t know.”

Anakin stops and stares at you for a moment before he laughs. “Kark… and Obi-Wan says I’m dramatic. You didn’t ruin my life. You just… made it more difficult.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, not sure what else to do.

“Stop saying that.” Anakin glowers at you again. “It’s not going to fix anything.”

“Oh.” You have to admit he has a point. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Anakin frowns. “Alright, what?”

“You’re right.”

Anakin looks like you just punched him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re right,” you repeat. “Apologizing isn’t going to change anything or fix your problems.”

Anakin blinks at you several times. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” You shrug. “If we’re going to be stuck with each other, it’s going to be a lot less awkward if we’re friends.”

Anakin laughs. “True. And hey, it’s still better than detention.”

Chapter Text

Over the course of the next few days, you find yourself adapting to life in the Jedi Temple, each day following a similar pattern. Every morning, you rise with the sun and join the other Jedi for breakfast before teaching Anakin one of the many forms of moving meditation you know. So far, you’ve introduced him to Tai Chi, yoga, katas, and walking meditation, all of which he seemed both surprised by and fascinated with.

You spend your afternoons in the Library, learning everything you can, intent on making the most of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study the Force. Even though Anakin is accustomed to a more exciting life, he doesn’t complain, though you can tell the confinement is wearing on his patience. Instead, he does his best to be a helpful Padawan, continuing to assist you in any way he can.

By your sixth day in the Temple, the soothing rhythms of monastic life have lulled you into a semi-sedated state of complacent contentment. You’re walking down one of the many endless hallways of the Temple with Anakin by your side when your brain suddenly reminds you of two facts. One, you need to go see Healer Syva today for your follow-up appointment. Two, although you’re fairly certain it's 22 BBY, you have no idea when exactly in the year each event happens, nor how long each one takes. While you’ve been happily living out your best nerd fantasy life, Shmi Skywalker draws closer to her death; an event you have the power to prevent and, in doing so, protect your friend.

You’re so distracted by these realizations you don’t even realize you’ve stopped walking until Anakin says something. “Is everything alright, my lady?”

Your heart lurches as you consider what to say to him. Should I tell him to go prep a shuttle and meet me in a docking bay? No, that sounds too much like something Kenobi would do. Maybe I should just tell him the truth? Yoda seemed to handle that okay. Maybe Anakin will, too.

Torn by indecision, you bite your lip while thinking, considering your options.

“My lady?” Anakin asks again, worry creasing his brow.

Realizing you still haven’t answered him, you shake your head as if it will bring you some clarity. “No, not really.”

“What’s wrong?” Anakin steps closer to you, frowning. “Do you need the Healer?”

“No.” You smile, feeling embarrassed his first concern is your well-being. “I mean, I need to go see her in general, but that’s not what’s wrong.”

“What is it?” He lowers his voice, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “More Sith Lord stuff?”

“Not exactly,” you say, repressing an awkward laugh. Now is not the moment to dwell too closely on the subject. The entire point is to prevent this from becoming more Sith Lord stuff. But how do you tell him? “I think we need to go to Tatooine,” you finally say. “I have a feeling something bad is going to happen to your mother.”

Anakin’s face goes through a rapid series of expressions as though he’s struggling with his emotions. “What did you see?”

You notice he assumes you’ve had a Force vision. As the truth goes, his hypothesis is close enough to fact for you not to bother correcting him. “You were holding her body and crying.”

Anakin’s demeanor suddenly shifts from calm and curious to obviously agitated. “Then let’s go.”

“First, I need to be cleared by the healer. Then we need a shuttle and some barrels of water and some travel rations.” Your brain races, wondering what else you should take. “And I need a new communicator.” Not that you ever had an old one, but it’s simpler if he thinks you lost it.

Anakin nods decisively. “I’ll go prep a shuttle while you handle the other things.”

As it turns out, the one difficulty you did not imagine is how hard it is to contain, let alone conceal, your excitement. Sitting in the cockpit next to Anakin as he pilots out of Coruscant, you’re struck by the awe and wonder of your first trip into space; the vastness of the stars, the wonder of watching a planet shrink before your very eyes, the unbridled joy of fulfilling your lifelong dream of traveling the cosmos. By the time he’s shifted into hyperspace and the stars around you have stretched into glowing, blue streaks, tears have already slipped down your cheeks, unnoticed in the ecstatic appreciation of the moment. After an indeterminate amount of time, you realize Anakin is watching you.

You’re wondering how you can discreetly wipe your eyes when he hands you a soft cloth of some sort. What it is or where it came from, you have no idea. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, blotting your tears away.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly.

“Yes.” You nod, feeling a little embarrassed. “It’s just so beautiful.”

“What is?”

“Space.”

Anakin nods. “It is. When I was a kid, I dreamed of exploring every planet in the galaxy.”

You smile, remembering the scene. “That sounds amazing.”

“You haven’t been away from your home planet very often, have you?” he asks, a look of understanding on his face.

“Guilty.” You chuckle, still struggling with embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m from a backwater nowhere world. This is still pretty new and exciting for me.”

Anakin smiles at you, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. It’s not a bad thing. I had forgotten how wonderful everything seemed back then. Watching you experience that wonder is…” he pauses, searching for the right word. “Comforting.”

“How so?” You turn in your chair, swiveling the seat to look at him instead of the starfield.

“Everyone else in the Jedi Order always seems so much more advanced and knowledgeable than I am. It always feels like I’m trying to play catch-up with them. But with you…” Anakin leans back in his chair, relaxing. “It’s different. Sometimes you seem wiser than anyone our age should be, and sometimes,” he chuckles, “you have these moments of childlike wonder over simple things I take for granted. You frequently remind me how magical life can be when you appreciate the little things.”

You arrive on Tatooine in a little more than three days; an amount of time you find paradoxically both extremely long and ridiculously short. On the one hand, three days in a vessel the size of a hotel suite is enough to drive anyone stir crazy, but on the other, knowing you’ve just transversed nearly half a galaxy in only three days is a little flummoxing to a human who knows it normally takes as long just to get to Earth’s moon. Anakin, for his part, has done his best to keep you entertained, teaching you as much as he can about Tatooine and its culture in preparation for your visit.

A certain sort of nervous excitement has been nearly palpable in his interactions with you, as though he is both thrilled and terrified to return to the planet of his birth. As he lands the ship in the Mos Espa dockyards, his mood shifts, his anxiety obviously winning out over his optimism.

“Anakin, are you okay?”

Anakin sighs, powering down the engines. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask.

Anakin shrugs, turning to face you by swiveling the chair. “I’m not exactly looking forward to seeing my old owner again.”

His words hit you in the gut. You could avoid that if I just had the chutzpah to tell you everything I know. But then I would have to explain how I know where your mother lives and then you might not want to be my friend anymore. Feeling torn, you stare at him for a moment before an obvious solution presents itself. “You don’t have to face him, Anakin. I’ll go. You stay here and guard the ship.”

Anakin smiles at you in a way you’ve seen him smile at Ahsoka countless times and you feel certain he is repressing the urge to pat you on the head. “You’d never find Watto’s shop on your own.”

Feigning nonchalance, you shrug. “I could just ask around.”

Anakin shakes his head, still smiling at you like you’re an innocent child. “Tatooine is not forgiving to outsiders, my lady.”

Feeling frustrated with him, you sigh, perhaps a little too dramatically.

Anakin grins and stands up to leave the ship. “This is the point at which Obi-Wan usually says, ‘Damnit, Anakin’.”

Grumbling, you stand up and give him a pretend glare. “Perhaps he has a point,” you tease. “Will it make you feel better if I say it?”

Anakin laughs. “Not really. Will it make you feel better?”

“Maybe,” you admit. “You’re not going to let me handle this for you, are you?”

“No.” Anakin continues to grin, a gesture more charming than you want to admit because then you’d also have to admit how hard it is to stay irritated with him. “I’m too stubborn for that.”

Sighing, you smile and shake your head as you follow him out of the ship. “Damnit, Anakin.”

Anakin just laughs.

As much as you hate to admit it, Anakin was, in fact, correct. By the time you reach Watto’s shop, you’re completely lost. Luckily for you, Anakin is nice enough not to say anything about it, though you can tell he knows he was right from the smirk on his face. You decide gloating is preferable to anxiety and choose not to comment on the situation either. Let him take courage wherever he can find it, you think.

Anakin’s interaction with Watto plays out exactly the way it did in the movie, except that you are the one standing next to Anakin instead of Padmé. 

This realization discomfits you for multiple reasons. First and foremost, you aren’t so sure you want to take her place. As attractive as Anakin is, you can’t actually imagine him ever being interested in you, nor are you sure you would even want him to. You don’t want to wind up pregnant and choking on Mustafar. Second, your whole goal — outside of solving your own personal Force mystery — is to disrupt the tragic story of Anakin Skywalker as much as possible in the hopes of preventing his fall to the Dark Side. Physically standing in the scene you’ve watched play out more times than you can count doesn’t feel like a victory for you; to the contrary - it feels an awful lot like a failure.

You’re so lost in thought you don’t even realize the conversation between them is over until Anakin turns to leave. You follow him.

You don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath until you start to feel a little lightheaded as Anakin is landing the ship. Breathe, damnit, you remind yourself, hoping Anakin was too busy flying to have noticed your anxiety. One look at him reveals he probably hasn’t; he seems lost in his own nerves at the moment.

As you exit the ship, a quartet of figures steps out of the entrance dome of the Lars home, each instantly recognizable to you; Beru, Owen, Cliegg, and most importantly — Shmi.

Your heart leaps for joy, the tension of Mos Espa falling from your shoulders. Perhaps Watto and Anakin’s conversation is a fixed point in time, but Shmi’s death certainly isn’t. Or so you hope.

Grinning, Anakin has already taken off running, as has his mother. They greet in a hug instantly recognizable to most humans as the airport hug — the laughing, crying, sweet jubilance of seeing and holding your loved ones in your arms again.

The other three stand back by the entry dome, all smiling as widely as you are and like you — giving the Skywalkers their space.

“My baby,” Shmi says, cupping her son’s face in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’ve  grown into such a tall and handsome young man.”

You realize you’re crying, too.

“Mom,” Anakin wraps her in another huge hug, picking her up and laugh-crying as he does so. “I missed you so much. I thought about you every day.”

“As did I, you, my son.” Shmi’s face is beaming with joy. “I am so happy to see you. What brings you to Tatooine? Surely you didn’t come all this way just to visit.”

Anakin still hasn’t let go of her. “Actually, we did, Mom. It was Knight Bari’s idea.”

You notice he’s omitted any mention of potential danger, probably to protect her. You make a mental note to do the same.

“I hate to interrupt,” Cliegg says with a huge smile, “but why don’t we take this reunion inside out of the suns.” You follow the family into the entrance dome and down the tunneled staircase, exiting below the ground in an open-air courtyard you would recognize anywhere. They reconvene in a dining room directly opposite the stairs. 

Beru brings everyone water while Shmi continues to beam at her son. “Tell me about your life, my son, I’ve missed so much.”

Anakin smiles, looking almost embarrassed, and you find yourself grinning right along with the rest of them. “I’ve been on so many adventures, Mom. I was in a space battle and blew up a droid control ship, helping to defeat a planetary invasion.”

“Of course you did,” Shmi says with a quiet laugh. “What else has happened?”

“I’ve been to a bunch of planets. Coruscant, Naboo, Dallenor, Illum, Carnelion IV, Ansion… and they’re all so different! Coruscant is a giant city with so many buildings and more people than I’ve ever seen before. Naboo is green and wet, with so much water and swamps, mom. Swamps. ” The way Anakin says this makes you smile. “And Illum is a frozen crystal, where on one specific day of the year, the sun melts an opening into a cave where we Jedi go to find our lightsaber crystals.”

“Wow,” Shmi says, still beaming. “I knew you were meant for more, my son, and I am so happy to hear you are having the adventures you deserve.”

Anakin looks like he might cry again. “Thanks, mom. What about you?” He looks around the room at the others. “Watto said he had sold you.”

Shmi turns to look at her husband, and it’s obvious to you how deeply she adores him. “More like lost in a bet,” she says with a laugh.

“Oh?” Anakin asks.

Shmi grins even wider, her eyes sparkling. “It’s quite a story, my son. It began with Beru.”

Beru smiles conspiratorially. “I was on a supply run to Mos Espa and needed my portable nav fixed. A merchant said your mother was the best in town and told me where to find her.”

Shmi shrugs, her embarrassed face a match for her son’s earlier. “So I fixed it for her.”

“And then I came back and told Cliegg and Owen how talented she was.” Beru looks at the men before continuing, as if having an entirely non-verbal conversation with them.

They both nod, Cliegg picking up the narrative. “When Beru told us how skilled of a technician and tinkerer your mother was, we knew we needed her for the White Suns.”

“The White Suns?” Anakin asks.

“We’re a slave liberation movement,” Owen explains. “We needed someone who could help us find a way to deactivate the transmitter chips.”

“So I went to Mos Espa and talked to your mother myself. I knew immediately she would be a tremendous asset to the movement. I convinced Watto to let me hire her to tune my vaporators.” Cliegg smiles at his wife fondly.

“What we really hired her for,” Beru breaks in, taking a turn at telling their tale. “Was to build a tracking device so we could locate the transmitter chips so we could deprogram and remove them.”

“Meanwhile,” Cliegg says. “Your mother told us everything she knew about Watto, including his gambling addictions. Which I used to trick Watto into gambling her away.” He smiles at his wife, obviously in love with her.

You find yourself grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. Seeing Anakin’s family alive and witnessing how deeply they love each other is making your fangirl heart beyond happy.

Shmi blushes. “Cliegg won, of course, and once he had my monitoring device, he was able to disable it so we could test the deprogrammer I had been working on.”

“It was an awful three months,” Cliegg admits. “By then, I knew I loved your mother, and I couldn’t bear to lose her.”

Shmi laughs, shaking her head. “Poor Cliegg had to leave.”

“He did,” Owen agrees. “I had to take Dad to the other side of the homestead and keep him distracted.”

“While I performed the surgery,” Beru continues, picking up the narrative thread. “It was nerve-wracking because the device was fused to her lower spine, and I had such a narrow window of time before the monitoring device recognized the chip was being tampered with.”

“She did it, though,” Shmi smiles at her, clearly fond of the girl. “She removed and deactivated it.”

“And then I married her,” Cliegg says, his eyes full of emotion. “And she’s been helping us deactivate slave chips ever since.”

The mood in the room abruptly shifts, becoming somber.

“Most of the time, we’re successful,” Shmi says, a haunted look in her eyes.

“Have you been able to figure out why it doesn’t always work?” Anakin asks.

Beru nods. “If the surrounding tissue is too dense or thick, we have to cut it out before we can deactivate it.”

“It’s worse if they have a lot of scar tissue,” Shmi adds. “Which is a common problem among older slaves who have been beaten regularly. The deprogrammer has to use a low-level frequency to communicate with the chip, or else it senses the tampering. Unfortunately, it’s such a low frequency that too much tissue or too dense tissue dampens the signal.”

Anakin frowns for a moment before his eyes light up. Smiling, you can’t help but imagine a light bulb illuminating over his head.

“What if you added a magnetic component,” Anakin asks. “A sufficiently strong magnetic field should either theoretically fry the transmitter chip or keep it from comming back to the control device. But you’d need to direct a narrow magnetic band at the chip; a broader magnetic field would just dissipate in the body.”

Shmi nods. “It could be done.”

“Maybe I can help you with it,” Anakin offers.

“I would love that, son.” Shmi smiles at him before looking at you. “But surely you have more important tasks as a Jedi.”

The way she says this with such nonchalance, as though she has long ago accepted her fate, breaks your heart. How could anything be more important than saving lives, you wonder. Righteous indignation fills you with a sudden certainty that although the Jedi Order might turn a blind eye to slavery, you have always pictured yourself as the sort of person who would have participated in the Underground Railroad. I refuse to be bound by bureaucratic bullshit, you think, a fiery determination burning in your core. I’ll be damned if I stand by and allow slavery to happen on my watch. “I cannot think of anything more important for us to do,” you say. And kriff the Jedi Order if they disagree. “I feel this is why the Force called us to come here.”

Anakin smiles, obviously pleased with your decision. “So, where’s this deprogrammer?”

“Are you awake, my lady?” Anakin’s voice asks from outside the door to your borrowed bedroom.

“Yes.” Truthfully, you’ve been staring at the ceiling for some time now, quietly contemplating your day. “You can come in,” you add.

Anakin, who is supposed to be sharing a room with Owen, enters quietly, closing the door behind him.

“Are you alright?” you ask, sitting up in bed.

Anakin smiles sheepishly, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Better than, actually. That’s kinda why I wanted to come talk to you.”

“Okay…” you say, wondering where this is going.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says, an odd look on his face.

You’ve learned most of his expressions by now, but this one is completely new to you. “For what?”

“For bringing me here.” He runs a hand through his hair, his body language even more awkward than normal.

“To Tatooine?”

“Yeah.” A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “I don’t know how many times I’ve begged Obi-Wan to let me come check on my mother so I could try and free her.”

You shrug, not giving voice to the thoughts inside your head. It’s the least he could have done, you think. And maybe if he had, her death would not have been so traumatic for you. But Kenobi doesn’t have the emotional intelligence to know how to care for others. What you say is, “Of course.”

Anakin shakes his head, laughing quietly. “You make it sound so … like it’s not even a big deal.”

“It’s not,” you say. “Other Jedi visit their families all the time. Hell, Master Mundi is even married and has kids.”

Anakin’s expression shifts again to another one you don’t recognize. “He seemed to think it was.”

Sighing, you focus on your one white stone, pushing away the irritation you feel towards his erstwhile Master. “I’m not Kenobi.”

Anakin laughs at this, a true smile crossing his face. “That’s for sure. You’re much more patient and far wiser than he is.”

You find his laughter contagious, a smile forming on your lips. “Thank you.”

“No, really, thank you.” His expression becomes serious. “Even Master Qui-Gon said he wasn’t here to free the slaves. But you’re letting me free them.”

This time, it’s your turn to laugh awkwardly. “Letting you? I plan to help. If the Order wants to punish us, they’ll have to send us both to detention.”

Anakin chuckles. “But why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” you answer. “There can be no peace without justice. If we are to be guardians of peace, we must also work to restore justice.”

Anakin nods. “That makes sense. But why doesn’t the Order … why do they let slavery continue?”

Political expediency, you think. But it isn’t the Jedi way to throw the Order under the bus, so you search for something kinder to say. “It’s easy to be a good person in a meditation chamber surrounded by comfort when your every need is attended to. It’s far more challenging to be a good person out in the galaxy where it requires action and dismantling oppressive systems, especially when those oppressive systems are run by the rich and powerful. They tend to be quite loud and violent when you threaten to disrupt their ill-gotten gains.”

Anakin has an odd look on his face again, the one he tends to get when you’ve surprised him. “That… definitely applies to Tatooine.”

That’s part of what makes Star Wars a cultural phenomenon on a global scale, you think. Lucas knows how to touch on universal themes. “I think it probably applies to all inequitable systems,” you respond. “Coruscant isn’t really any better. And neither is Earth.”

Anakin frowns, a haunted expression flashing across his face. “Yeah. Chancellor Palpatine showed me that.”

You focus on your one white stone even harder, hoping Anakin doesn’t sense the instinctive knee-jerk reaction you have toward Palpatine. “How so?” you ask, feigning curiosity to mask your anger.

Anakin frowns, looking conflicted. “He asked me to keep it just between the two of us. I wouldn’t want to betray his confidence.”

One white stone, you think, spinning the stone faster as you struggle against the rising tide of emotions churning in your gut. Oh, Anakin, he doesn’t deserve your loyalty. You struggle with your thoughts for a moment before formulating a response. “A wise person once told me we are only as sick as our secrets, Anakin.”

Anakin frowns even deeper, appearing confused. “What does that mean, my lady?”

“Hmm,” you say, trying to translate your therapist’s words. “It means that good secrets, those that bring us joy, are safe to keep. Like surprising someone with a gift. But other secrets, those that bring us pain, make us sick if we hold onto them.”

“I see.” Anakin sounds as if he still isn’t sure.

“Did the Chancellor ask you to keep something secret that will bring joy to yourself and others, or did he ask you to keep someone’s suffering a secret?”

“I don’t know,” Anakin responds, sounding much younger than his years.

“Anakin.” You wait for him to meet your eyes. “You don’t seem happy about it. Was he?”

“No…” Anakin answers slowly. “I guess not.”

“Then it sounds as if this secret is a toxic one, Anakin.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking down at the floor. “I guess.”

“Anakin.”

He looks back up into your eyes.

“I know you don’t want to betray him,” you begin. “But as your friend, as a fellow Jedi, and as the person tasked to be your mentor, it’s literally my job to know. Especially if someone has harmed you.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” he objects.

“Maybe not physically,” you counter. “But your body language and tone of voice says otherwise. You look like an abused child right now.”

“But…” Anakin protests. 

“Anakin, do you trust me?” you ask.

“Of course,” he answers immediately. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Then please tell me what happened.” You hold him with your gaze, waiting for him to answer.

“But…” he looks so conflicted that it hurts you to observe him in this state.

One white stone. “Anakin, please.”

“He took me to a … place in the lower levels of Coruscant.” Anakin blushes, looking embarrassed. “He said slavery existed even on Coruscant.”

You nod slowly. “What sort of place was it, Anakin?”

“A … cantina, I guess.” He looks incredibly uncomfortable.

“You guess?” You raise an eyebrow. “What aren’t you telling me, Anakin?”

Anakin sighs, hiding his face behind his hand. “There were … dancing girls there, like the ones the Hutts force to entertain their visitors, but way younger.”

“And were they? … entertaining people, I mean?” you ask as delicately as you can, feeling nauseated by the idea.

“Yeah.” He looks like he might be sick.

“When did this happen, Anakin?”

“Seven years ago.” His voice is tiny again.

“When you were twelve?” You fail to keep the incredulity out of your voice. “That’s absolutely inappropriate, Anakin. That place shouldn’t exist, and he shouldn’t have taken you there. That’s child abuse both for the children they’re exploiting and you. He asked you to keep it a secret to test you because he knew it was wrong and knew he’d be in trouble if you told anyone.”

“He said I would be in trouble.” A tear slips down his cheek.

“Anakin.” You stand up, heart aching for him, opening your arms without even thinking. “You’re not in trouble. You didn’t do anything wrong. He used this secret to hurt you, to isolate you from your Jedi family.”

The next thing you know, Anakin is crying on your shoulder. “I felt so angry at the Jedi for letting it happen. And bad because I couldn’t stop it. And gross and just … wrong.”

“It’s okay,” you say, rubbing his back. “I won’t let him hurt you again, Anakin. And when we make it back to Coruscant, I swear I’ll go shut that place down myself.”

Anakin just sobs harder. “But he’s the Chancellor. How can you stop him? How can you stop any of it?”

“By telling Master Yoda.” You continue rubbing his back, speaking in the most soothing voice you can. “By taking a stand against it, rescuing the children involved, and making examples of every adult who operates and participates in it.”

“But what if he gets mad at me?” Anakin sniffles.

“The Chancellor?” you ask.

“Yeah.” He sounds genuinely scared of such an outcome.

“He probably will,” you admit, unwilling to lie to him. “A lot of people experience anger when they get caught doing something shameful and wrong.”

“What if he hates me and doesn’t want to be my friend anymore?” His voice cracks as he asks his question. 

“He was never your friend to begin with, Anakin. Friends don’t take us to terrible places to watch other people being abused or ask us to lie to the people we trust.”

“But he calls me ‘son’,” Anakin protests, clearly struggling with his cognitive dissonance.

“Of course he does. He knows you need a family and is using that knowledge to manipulate you.” You focus on your one white stone, holding it as a shield against the rage you feel, praying to transmute it into righteous anger and even more righteous action. “Let me ask you this, Anakin. If you had a son, would you take him to the places Palpatine has taken you, show him those things?”

“No, never.” Anakin’s tone is full of vehemence.

“Then he wasn’t acting like a father, Anakin. He was acting like an abuser trying to manipulate and exploit a vulnerable child in need of parental love and affection.”

“But he said he was showing me the truth,” Anakin says through his tears.

“He wasn’t showing you the whole truth, Anakin. Just a version of it designed to isolate you and make you feel he was the only one you could trust.”

He shrugs, still intermittently crying.

“Think about it, Anakin. While he was busy blaming the Jedi for not stopping slavery, what did the Chancellor do to stop it? Did he call the police? Did he send anyone to investigate? Did he open a Senate inquiry? Make a recording and leak it to the media outlets and expose the secret? If he knew that place was there, why take a twelve-year-old child instead of a police patrol? Or a holonews crew? And how did he know that particular establishment was there, how to find it, what happens inside?”

Anakin is quiet for several moments, probably processing. After some time, he speaks again. “But what if Master Yoda is mad at me?”

“Have you ever actually seen Master Yoda get mad at anyone?” you ask.

“No.” Anakin’s crying slows down. “But I’m…”

“A victim of child abuse, Anakin. If Master Yoda gets mad at anyone, it will be the Chancellor.”

“Are you sure?” he mumbles into your shoulder.

“I’d bet my life on it,” you reassure him. “Abusers tell us we’ll be in trouble because they use fear to manipulate us into not telling anyone. It’s how they control us.”

“Oh.” Anakin sounds shell-shocked. “But… I thought he was my friend. He’s like a father to me.”

“Of course you did,” you say. “He wanted you to. It’s how abusers operate. First, they shower us with the love and attention we need as human beings. Then, when we feel safe and trust them, they hurt us and tell us not to tell anyone so we don’t get in trouble. Then they use our guilt to isolate us.”

Anakin pulls away from your hug to look at you, his face still streaked with tears. “I had no idea.”

“I know you didn’t.” You smile, trying to reassure him.

“I’m sorry I got your shirt wet,” he says apologetically. 

You shrug, understanding his need to change the subject. “Eh, it’ll dry.”

Anakin laughs weakly, looking awkward. “Do you mind … is it okay if I sleep in here? I don’t want to bother my mom, and I don’t really know Owen and I don’t want to be alone right now. I mean, I won’t take up much space. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

He seems so lost and so innocent at the moment, you can’t bring yourself to say no. Instead, you hand him one of the blankets and a pillow. “Fine, but if you snore, I’m kicking you out,” you joke, trying to make him feel better by lightening the mood.

Anakin laughs. “Deal. But if you snore, I get to tease you about it for the rest of our lives.”

Something about his word choice catches in your throat. Not that you don’t want to be friends with him for the rest of your life, you just aren’t sure you want to spend the rest of your life in the Star Wars universe, or even if you have any life left to go back to. One white stone. You push those thoughts away to be dealt with another day. Right now, you need some sleep. “Deal,” you say, forcing a smile. “Goodnight, Anakin.”

“Goodnight, Indra.”

Chapter Text

True to his word, Anakin has a working prototype of the improved deprogrammer within two days. This is how you find yourself in the Lars family SoroSuub landspeeder along with Anakin, Shmi, and Beru, headed to Mos Espa. Cliegg and Owen have opted to stay at the homestead this trip, preparing the supplies needed for the second half of today’s adventure. What stays unspoken - though known by all - is, should today’s adventure fail, their preparations won’t matter.

You try not to dwell on this possibility as you speed over the wastes towards the settlement.

Please let this work, you pray, hoping the Force is listening to you, will listen to you, even if you’re not really a Jedi.

Anakin parks the landspeeder on the edge of the settlement, behind a building indistinguishable from all the others; at least it is to your eyes. The four of you approach a rear door with no discernible means of opening it. Shmi knocks on the door in a specific pattern, prompting a circular orifice to open beside it, a small mechanical droid eye emerging to study her.

“Dotmheca mee gai,” it says in a mechanical voice.

“Bu bin vee baukola,” Shmi answers.

“Pea bin hatkocanh la doth?” it asks.

“Bu duona bin hatkocanh vee baukola,” Shmi intones.

Their exchange complete, the door opens, admitting your group to the building. 

A tall 2-1B series med droid greets you. “Greetings, Sun Dragon. The Doctor will be with you shortly.”

“Greetings, Surgeon.” Shmi smiles at the droid who promptly turns and leaves the room.

Sun Dragon? Doctor? Surgeon? What? You frown, wondering what’s going on.

Apparently, Anakin also has questions. “Sun Dragon?” He gives his mother a look.

She smiles at him. “We all have code names for our safety, my son. I am the Sun Dragon, our friend who owns this building is the Doctor, and the droid you just met is the Surgeon.”

As if her words are an official announcement, a tall Siniteen enters the room, her large, pale, wrinkled cranium reminding you of a brain. “The Surgeon is currently awaiting our patient.” Her eyes take in each of you in turn. “Your crew has expanded, I see.”

Shmi nods. “Extra security.”

The Doctor gives you and Anakin appraising looks. “If you say so. I hope we do not need them.”

“As do I,” Shmi agrees.

The Surgeon returns shortly followed by two humans, an older man with a young child. Something about the old man’s protective body language and mannerisms reminds you of your grandfather, sending a wave of homesickness through you. Blinking back an unexpected surge of tears, you focus on your one white stone, praying to the Force Anakin’s improvement works. You can’t bear to imagine what will happen if it doesn’t.

“You understand the risks?” The Doctor asks the newcomers, somewhat gruffly. 

You wonder if her brusque manner is a facade or even a shield to protect her from the realities of this path. How many people has she lost on the operating table to make her react this way?

The old man pauses and looks at each of you in turn, his arm around the child. His brown eyes stop on Shmi, expression serious. “I do. And I am willing to accept them. I’ve lived a long life and given all of it to the Hutts as their property. I would rather my life end by my own choice than give them another day or allow them to steal my granddaughter’s life the way they have mine. If this doesn’t work, promise me you’ll take care of her. Her father was sold and her mother is dead. I’m all she has left.”

You blink harder, noticing Anakin doing something similar.

“Of course.” Shmi nods solemnly at the man. “You have my word.”

The old man drops to one knee, looking intently at the young girl. She has her head down, crying. 

“Drae,” the old man says, placing his hand gently under her chin.

Drae looks up at him, her lip quivering. “Yes, papa?”

“I love you.” He places his hand on her heart. “I will always be with you. Right here.”

“I know, Papa.” She’s trying so hard not to cry she’s nearly shaking. “I love you.”

Drae’s Papa kisses her on her forehead and embraces her, holding the child tight for several long moments.

No one makes a sound.

After an indeterminate amount of time he kisses the top of his granddaughter’s head one more time and stands. “I’m ready.”

Shmi nods at you and Anakin, her eyes flicking to the child.

“Hi, Drae, I’m Anakin.” Anakin smiles at the girl, holding out his hand. “I used to be a slave, too.”

You wince inwardly, remembering his mother’s words about code names and safety.

The little girl’s eyes light up as she takes his hand, allowing him to lead her from the room. “Are you Anakin Skywalker, the slave boy who won the Boonta Eve Classic?”

You follow them from the room.

“I am,” Anakin says, looking down at the girl with a smile.

“Really?” Drae grins up at him, her tears completely forgotten. “You’re a legend! I can’t believe I get to meet you! My friends would be so jealous!” 

Seeing her reaction, you suddenly understand why Anakin chose to tell her who he was and you find yourself fighting another wave of tears.  Anakin is willing to risk his life to help this child and did so unhesitatingly just to distract her from the fear of losing her grandfather. You turn to the side, making a show of studying the various medical charts of different sentient species the Doctor has plastered to her office walls. When you’re confident Anakin and Drae aren’t looking, you surreptitiously wipe your eyes on the sleeve of your borrowed garment. Oh, Anakin, you think. You always were so kind-hearted and generous. You turn back to watch the two of them together, noticing how deep in conversation they are, both talking animatedly, broad smiles on their faces. The longer you observe them together, the more a surge of some unidentifiable emotion swells in your chest. You have no idea what to call it.

The door behind you opens, startling you out of your reverie. 

“It worked!” Beru beams at the three of you from the doorway.

Drae takes off running for the door and Beru barely manages to avoid being bowled over as the young girl rushes headlong into the small surgery room, beelining for her grandfather, nearly knocking him over with the exuberance of her hug. “Papa!!”

“Drae.” The old man hugs her, a huge grin stretching from ear to ear. “Now it’s your turn. Are you ready?”

The little girl nods with a seriousness belying her years. “Yes, Papa.”

He kisses Drae on her head. “This may hurt, my darling. But I know you can be my brave girl.”

“I can.” She nods emphatically. 

Drae’s Papa lifts her up onto the operating table.

Beru pulls out a device and waves it up and down the child’s body, no doubt looking for the location of the chip. “There it is,” she says after several quiet moments.

“Alright, Drea,” Shmi says, smiling at the child. “We’ve found your tracking chip. “I’m going to need you to lie down on your stomach. We’re going to use a deprogrammer to turn it off, just like we did your Papa’s. You’ll need to hold very still. Can you do that for me?”

Drea nods, again looking far more serious than a child her age should. “Yep.”

The little girl lies down and Shmi operates the deprogrammer, aiming it at the base of her skull. “There.” Shmi smiles. “All done. Now, the Surgeon will remove it.”

Just as Shmi said, the Surgeon steps forward. “You will feel a small pinch.” The droid uses its hypo syringe attachment on Drae, injecting what you imagine is a local anesthetic into the child’s neck before making a small incision and removing something. Once the foreign object has been removed, it covers the wound with a bacta patch. “All done.”

Drae sits up, wincing a little before a huge grin overtakes her face. “Is that it? Are we free?”

“You are no longer being tracked,” The Doctor explains. “But you are still in danger. The Sun Dragon and her friends will help you reach safety.”

“Thank you!” Drae jumps down off of the table, wrapping her arms around the Siniteen in a spontaneous embrace.

The Doctor looks startled for a moment before awkwardly patting the child’s head, a hint of moisture glistening in the corners of her eyes. “You can thank me by getting out of here and living your life, little one. Now go, before the enforcers arrive.”

Shmi ushers all of you back out the rear door and into the landspeeder. With Anakin in the pilot’s seat, you zoom off across the wastes back towards the Lars homestead. 

“Where will they go?” Anakin asks Shmi, his eyes following Drae and her Papa up into your shuttle with Cliegg and Owen. 

“To Arkanis,” she responds, smiling at her son, an odd look in her eyes. “You did it. I’m proud of you.”

“We did it,” he corrects her.

Shmi’s smile brightens. “It was all because of you, Anakin. I built the original based on your ideas.”

He beams at her praise, impulsively hugging her.

Beru shoots Shmi a look, which she acknowledges with a nod. “If you’re going to be an official member of the White Suns, you’ll need a code name, though.”

Anakin pulls away from her hug, suddenly looking sheepish. “I shouldn’t have told her my name, should I?”

Shmi gives him a parental look consisting of equal parts pride and hesitation. “You have a good heart, son. You wanted to keep her from being scared. And I love that about you.”

Anakin sighs. “But you have code names for a reason.”

Shmi nods, continuing to give him the frustrated mother smile. “Yes. Any thoughts on what you would like yours to be?”

Anakin shrugs, looking at you. “Any ideas?”

“The Pilot?” you suggest.

“I like it.” He nods. “You should be the Reader because of how much you love the library.”

“The Pilot and the Reader.” Shmi smiles at you both. “Those work.”

“Mom…” Anakin begins, looking conflicted. “What I said today, it won’t get you in trouble, right?”

Shmi smiles, shaking her head. “No. Neither the Doctor nor the Surgeon know you’re my son.”

“But someone could come looking for me because of it,” he adds quietly, his face darkening.

“Anakin Skywalker left Tatooine to become a Jedi Knight. Which means, either the Jedi have sent him undercover to free the slaves,” Shmi says, a mischievous glint in her eye you’re used to seeing in Anakin’s, “or someone is using your name as a symbol of hope, or perhaps someone gave your name to stop torture. If you were a Hutt enforcer, which theory would you believe?”

Your second mission with the White Suns happens one evening the following week. This time, Owen and Beru stay behind while you and Anakin accompany Shmi and Cliegg in the landspeeder. Cliegg parks the vehicle behind a large, three-story building whose narrow exterior stairways look dangerous to your eyes. He does not turn off the engine, instead leaving it idling. Shmi exchanges a look and a kiss with him before leaving the speeder, using some sort of non-verbal couple’s language you’re not party to. Judging from the tension in Cliegg’s eyes, you imagine this particular rescue is one of the more dangerous ones. Swallowing, you follow Shmi up the stairs to the third floor, Anakin bringing up the rear. Shmi knocks on the door in the same pattern she always uses.

“State your business,” a voice calls out in accented Basic.

“The suns always rise,” she says softly through the door.

“Which suns will rise?” the voice asks.

“The White Suns will always rise,” Shmi answers.

The door opens, admitting the three of you.

Inside the room, a white Twi’lek waits, clad in revealing attire. “Sun Dragon,” she greets Shmi.

Shmi nods in recognition. “Dancer.”

Dancer looks at the two of you and back at Smi, raising her brow in an obvious question.

“The Pilot,” Shmi indicates Anakin. “And the Reader. My security team.”

Dancer nods ever so slightly. “An excellent idea. Our friends should be here shortly. I will go retrieve them.” She exits the room, leaving you alone with the Skywalkers.

Anakin gives Shmi a look you recognize as his inquisitive, problem-solving face. “What kind of place is this, Mom?”

“A cantina,” she answers, an odd tone in her voice, even to your perspective, and she didn’t raise you.

“And?” Anakin prompts.

“Gambling parlor,” she adds.

“And?” Anakin’s expression says he already knows, but he wants her to say it.

“A brothel.” Shmi sighs. “But these girls are all free workers, like Dancer. The owner is a White Sun as well. This is one of the most well trafficked establishments in the settlement that isn’t directly owned by the Hutts. The owner, Mamma, pays protection money to both Gardulla and Jabba. Important negotiations happen here often.”

Anakin frowns, obviously processing his mother’s words. “So it’s easy for any slave to come here. And for the White Suns to come and go. But it’s also the most dangerous because anyone could be downstairs.”

Shmi smiles and nods. “I see your time in the Jedi Order has honed your analytical thinking skills even further.”

The door to the room opens to readmit Dancer, along with two Chadra-Fans, their short, rodent-like forms looking almost child-like next to Dancer.

Dancer closes and locks the door. “These are members of the White Suns, Sun Dragon, the Pilot, and the Reader. They will remove your transmitters and escort you to safety.”

“Thank you,” one of the two Chadra-Fans says. This one has gray fur and gray skin, whereas their companion has gray fur and light skin.

“Yes, thank you,” says the other.

A disturbance from downstairs overlaps the end of their words, causing the small beings to clutch each other and shiver as the sound of blaster fire erupts.

“I’ll stand guard outside,” you suggest, knowing no one in this galaxy knows your face, making you the smartest and safest option.

Anakin nods, exchanging a look with you. “I’ll guard the inside.”

Dancer unlocks and opens the door just wide enough for you to slip out onto the balcony. You hear her lock the door behind you. It sounds like a bar fight, you think, positioning yourself in front of the door. You look down into the cantina below to see a pair of two burly-looking red Nikto dragging a Trandoshan out of the building. A purple-beige Dug seated at the bar, which appears to be under you, has turned around in their seat and is laughing and pointing at the Trandoshan and yelling something in Huttese. A pair of obviously female Twi’lek, one purple and one black, hang on either side of the Dug, petting them and laughing. Most of the other patrons appear to be minding their own business with a nervous studiousness, implying the entire building is scared of the Dug seated at the bar.

A wave of unease and foreboding washes over you, a subtle sort of churning in your stomach and lower gut, your instincts warning you something is wrong. Your heart begins to pound. Please, hurry, Anakin, you think. We need to get out of here as soon as we can.

The security team tosses the offender out into the street and closes the cantina doors before returning to their posts on either side of said door. The Dug swivels on his barstool, still laughing with the malicious joy of a bully. As he does so, your brain screeches to a halt with recognition, your heart racing even faster than it had been. You know this Dug. You would know him anywhere. Sebulba.

You swallow, the anxiety rising within you like bile in the back of your throat. Nothing good ever comes from running into Sebulba. As if he senses your gaze, Sebulba looks up at you, still grinning. You quickly look away, pressing your back against the door behind you. Below, Sebulba laughs harder, obviously pleased by your response. You don’t know what he’s saying, but his tone is full of derision and mockery.

Behind you, the door opens, causing you to momentarily lose your balance. You quickly right yourself, glancing at Sebulba. His laughter has stopped. A chill washes down your spine.

“You alright?” asks Anakin from directly behind you.

Sebulba’s eyes narrow and you know he just recognized Anakin. Anakin’s sudden intake of breath tells you he’s just seen and recognized Sebulba in return.

The two of you scramble backward through the door, Anakin locking it behind you as quickly as he can, his hands shaking as he mutters under his breath. “Kark, kark, kark. He saw me.”

Dancer’s eyes are wide with fear. The two beings you’ve come to rescue cling to each other, shaking again.

Shmi takes charge. “Out the door, let’s go,” she directs, her voice suddenly stern. 

All five of you propel yourself down the stairs and into the waiting speeder. As soon as your bodies hit the seats, Cliegg has the vehicle in reverse and is turning it to race back across the wastes towards home.

No one says a word for the duration of the journey. The formerly enslaved huddle together in the floorboard, staying out of sight under the seats. Shmi rides in the front with Cliegg, her shoulders stiff with tension. Beside you, Anakin shakes. Uncertain of anything beyond the fear you both feel, you reach out and grasp his hand, squeezing it once to reassure him.  

Anakin’s emotional storm has abated by the time you reach the Lars homestead nearly an hour later, but the tension still remains. Even Cliegg isn’t immune to it; he spends the next hour scanning the wastes with a pair of night vision binoculars while Owen and Beru take the people you helped escape off to their next destination. You deliberately haven’t asked any questions about what happens next; the less you know, the better. You wander down to the dining area for some water to find Anakin and Shmi conversing.

“I know he recognized me; I saw it in his eyes.” Anakin frowns.

Shmi nods, taking a drink from her mug. “I believe you, Ani.”

“What do we do?” His voice is fraught with worry.

Shmi shrugs as if this is not the first scare they’ve experienced. “We lay low for a while and let the other White Suns take action.”

“What if they come looking for you?” Even though his life is on the line, Anakin’s main concern is for his mother.

Shmi smiles at her son. “Few people remember me as Shmi Skywalker. Sebulba would have to talk to Watto to know where I am.”

Anakin doesn’t appear comforted by this notion. “Exactly. All Watto would have to do…”

Shmi shakes her head. “Watto and Sebulba don’t like each other very much these days. Not since you won your freedom; Watto blames Sebulba for losing.”

Anakin runs his hand through his hair. “But Sebubla hates me, Mom. I saw it in his eyes. All he has to do is send one of his lackeys to ask.”

Shmi smiles at him patiently, her eyes flickering to where you stand lurking in the doorway and the seat next to Anakin, a clear, unspoken invitation to sit down. “Watto wouldn’t give out information for free, my son. He only told you because you are you. Anyone else would need to pay him enough to make it worth his while. And considering the story makes him look bad, the price he would ask would likely be exorbitant.”

You take the seat next to Anakin at the table.

“Sebulba can afford it.” Anakin continues to argue, clearly still worked up over seeing Sebulba.

You don’t blame him; Sebulba is a bully who tried to kill Anakin. He has good reasons to be triggered.

“What say you, Master Jedi?” Shmi asks, her eyes begging for your help.

You tactfully choose not to correct her. “I think if anyone comes looking, we have a shuttle big enough for all six of us. We send out a distress call and fly to another settlement, like Anchorhead.”

“What if they shoot us down?” Anakin asks, turning to look at you.

Your heart goes out to him; you wish you could ease his mind. “Our shuttle is clearly marked as belonging to the Republic. Shooting us down would start an intergalactic war, and even the Hutts aren’t that stupid.” 

“I know you’re worried, my son.” Shmi reaches across the table, wrapping her hands around his. “But all we can do is plan for the worst and hope for the best.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Anakin frowns, looking down at the table. “I just have a bad feeling and it’s all my fault.”

“Anakin.” Shmi waits for him to meet her eyes. “What happened today could have happened to any of us. We’re lucky it was you.”

Anakin gives her a confused look. “How?”

Shmi pats his hand gently. “Of all the White Suns, we are the most prepared to handle this. And we have the most backup. Even if they should track you down, they won’t dare kill a Jedi. None of the rest of us have any such protection, and we know it. We all knew the risk when we signed on to the White Suns.”

“It’s true, son,” Cliegg says from the doorway, startling you slightly. You never even heard him come in. “Every time we go out to save someone, we risk our lives. It comes with the territory. I wouldn’t worry too much; we have plans for this. Mamma will have given out free rounds on the house; she does so anytime we’re moving someone. Sebulba might have recognized you, but he’s far too inebriated to do anything about it tonight, and by tomorrow everyone will think what he saw was just a drunken story.”

Anakin sighs, sounding defeated. “If you say so.”

Cliegg comes to stand behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder and clasping it firmly. “Don’t worry, son. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together, as a family."

As planned, you and Anakin spend the next month at the Lars Homestead, helping around the farm with various tasks. Each morning, the two of you rise with the suns so you can meditate and have breakfast before accompanying Shmi out to pick mushrooms. Grateful for every moment spent with his mother, Anakin never questions your decision to escort Shmi on her morning errands. Neither does Shmi. You’ve come to treasure this early morning routine, never growing tired of witnessing their joy. Perhaps it’s because Star Wars has always been your safe space, the place you’ve always been able to escape to, but the sense of family and togetherness you feel with the Skywalker-Lars family is comforting to you, helping to ease your homesickness. At the Temple, even though you were surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of people, you felt completely alone except for Anakin. Here, you have become part of the family, accepted and sheltered without question.

You’re so lost in your thoughts you don’t immediately notice the darker brown line snaking across the desert toward you. Only when the sensation of being watched triggers your hypervigilance do you realize you are not alone. You turn towards the movement, instinctively moving into a combat-ready position; feet spread shoulder-width apart, legs slightly bent, arms flexed and ready to strike. Anakin notices your shift in body language first, his lightsaber already out and lit before you can say anything. To her credit, Shmi does not shrink and hide behind the water vaporators. Instead, she sets down her basket of mushrooms and pulls out a weapon that looks more like it belongs in a museum or a Western than it does in Star Wars.

You don’t have to wonder what the strange, sinuous shape is for long; as they draw closer, your eyes make out the unmistakable shapes of Sand People and their bantha mounts. At least it isn’t a krayt dragon, you think.

You’ll never know why the war party reigns in their steeds and pulls up short of actually attacking you. Maybe it’s the lightsaber. Maybe it’s the gun. Maybe it’s because there are three of you. Or maybe the Force is just on your side. Regardless, they pause, arms upraised, weapons in hand, yelling something you can’t understand.

Holding up your hands in a gesture of peace, you find yourself grateful for the other nerds who gave you a crash course in Tusken Sign Language. “ Wait. Bring tribute,” you sign. “Shmi, can you comm back to the homestead and ask Threepio to bring us one of the barrels from our shuttle?”

After what feels like an eternity of a desert standoff later, Threepio arrives with a turbolift, a barrel of water loaded upon it.

“Tribute,” you sign.

One of the Sand People says something.

“The War Chief wants to know what you have brought him?” Threepio translates.

“Water,” you answer, pausing for Threepio to interpret your words. “From a faraway world.”

The Sand Person replies, their tone having changed significantly.

“Why do you bring us this?” Threepio translates.

“As an offering of gratitude for safe passage on your land.” You wait with bated breath while Threepio passes your words along, hoping your knowledge of  Sand People culture is sufficient.

The War Chief barks something. From his tone of voice, you don’t imagine he’s thanking you.

“The War Chief says you have a lot of nerve to steal from him and offer it to him in return,” Threepio translates. “He says all of the water is his.”

“Yes,” you agree. “All of the water on Tatooine is yours and should be yours. But these are not the people who are stealing from you. These people take only what they need to survive while fighting back against the true thieves, the Hutts.”

Threepio finishes putting your words in Tuskan.

The War Chief grumbles something.

You notice the line of warriors is no longer holding their weapons aloft and shaking them.

“He asks how he can trust your word,” Threepio says. “The colonizers have lied to his people before.”

“I am not from Tatooine,” you counter. “I have brought you water from the Core and these people a ship which they are using to transport the formerly enslaved offworld. If you doubt what I say, watch us, study our patterns. If you don’t see us bringing people to the homestead and then taking them off-world, you can always come back and attack us then.”

Threepio translates your words to the Chief, who throws his head back and makes a sound you interpret to be laughter before he speaks.

“The War Chief says you are quite bold, and this amuses him,” Threepio states. “He will accept your offering, both the water and your hospitality. Two of his warriors will accompany you. If what you say is true, you will be allowed to live as the tribe’s allies. If you lie, the desert will be your grave.” 

Unlike your usual laughter-filled return trips to the homestead, today’s journey finds all of you in a somber mood. Even Threepio is uncharacteristically quiet. You try to comfort yourself with the knowledge that Shmi is alive, and so are the Sand People, but it’s hard to feel like you’ve made a positive difference in the story while you’re under armed guard.

Cliegg meets your party at the entrance dome, his brow creased with what you’ve come to recognize is his worried look.

Shmi smiles at him. “These are our guests, they will be staying with us for a while.”

Cliegg gives her a look you haven’t learned to interpret yet and probably never will, as it seems to be part of their secret couple language. Then he turns his attention to the Sand People. “I am Cliegg. This is my wife Shmi, my son Anakin, and his friend, Indra. Our other son, Owen, is inside with his girlfriend, Beru. What are your names?”

Threepio translates his words into Tusken, and the two warriors deliberate amongst themselves for several moments before replying. “They say Sand People do not share their true names with outsiders. You may call them Sandstorm and Heatwave.”

Cliegg continues smiling. “Threepio, please ask our guests if they would prefer a bedroom down in the house or if we need to create a shelter for them up here near their banthas.”

Cliegg and Threepio continue conversing with the two warriors while Shmi and Anakin proceed down the stairs into the homestead. After a moment’s hesitation, you follow them.

“I’m sure it will be alright, Anakin,” Shmi is saying to her son as you enter the dining area where she’s cleaning off the mushrooms and preparing them for lunch.

“What will?” Beru asks, entering the room with a handful of fresh vegetables from the household’s hydroponic garden.

Before anyone can answer her, Cliegg finishes descending the stairs, Sandstorm and Heatwave with him, Threepio translating every word. “Down here is our main living space. Would you care to join us for lunch?”

Beru only pauses for the briefest of moments before setting down her bounty. “I’ll go get more salad greens.”

Owen’s eyes widen briefly as he enters the room, his eyes flicking from one person to the next. “Repair seems to be coming along fine.”

You notice no one has said anything yet about the two warriors in your midst. Instead, Cliegg offers them chairs, which they accept, after some trial and error with sitting in them. Shmi and Beru prepare the salad together, serving the same bowl of fresh mushrooms and vegetables to you as they do to the Sand People. Owen brings out the blue milk and pours it, along with glasses of water.

The entire scene feels serene to you; the motions are the same but the usual banter with which the family interacts is stilted, silenced under a heavy blanket of nerves. Despite this, they serve the warriors as though they are honored guests. 

One of the two gestures at their plate and grunts what sounds like a question. 

“Heatwave asks what you call this meal,” Threepio translates.

“A salad,” Shmi answers with a smile. “We grow it all ourselves.”

The other warrior rattles something out, sounding surprised. 

“Sandstorm says you must be a powerful Shaman if you can make the desert bloom like this,” Threepio tells her.

Shmi smiles and shakes her head. “Not me. I’m just a mechanic. I can show you how I grow it, if you like?”

Threepio translates her words for the benefit of the two Sand People who confer among themselves before turning and speaking to the group. “They thank you for this offer but they are not willing to risk the wrath of their Shaman. If you would teach her, however, it would be of great benefit to the tribe.”

“I would be happy to,” Shmi says.

The rest of the day proceeds with as much awkward tension as lunch, to the point where you’re more than ready for the day to be over by the time the suns set. Unfortunately for you, about the time you’ve climbed into bed, Anakin is knocking at your door.

“Yes, I’m still awake. And yes, you can come in,” you say with a sigh, sitting up in bed.

“Am I really that predictable?” Anakin asks, shutting the door behind him.

“Sometimes,” you say with a smile. “What’s up?”

Anakin frowns, looking at the ceiling of the room for a moment.

Smiling, you remind yourself his universe uses entirely different slang than yours. Your smile falters, a wave of homesickness washing over you. “I mean, what’s on your mind?”

“You knew, didn’t you.” Anakin gives you a look. “About the Sand People. That's why we brought the water.”

You freeze, heart pounding, wondering how much you should tell him. What do I say? He was bound to figure it out eventually. The truth? Biting your lip, you reach for your mental mantra, summoning your single white stone.

Anakin is still looking at you expectantly.

“Yes,” you finally say. “I knew they were going to attack and probably abduct her, I just didn’t know when.”

“Why not fight them or use the Force to make them go away?” Anakin’s tone of voice is full of unspoken emotion. 

You take a deep, calming breath and refocus on your white stone. “Because this is their planet, Anakin. Imagine living your entire life on a world that has belonged to your people for generations, long enough to have watched the oceans dry up and become deserts, only to have invaders come and claim it as theirs, to steal what belongs to your people. What would you do to such people when you found them?” 

“Probably kill them all,” he admits.

That’s for sure, you think, remembering his impassioned speech to Padmé all too well. “If we fought and killed them today, it might scare them enough to stay away from your family in specific, maybe. If we sent them away, we would be using the Force to support greed and injustice. By negotiating with them, we open up the possibility of an alliance between the White Suns and the Sand People. There may come a time when the White Suns can’t immediately take someone off-world. Disappearing among the Sand People could be a good option for someone in such an instance. Plus, Owen and Beru might want to feel safe living here and raising children of their own here one day. An alliance allows for all these things, not to mention it’s the fair and right thing to do.”

Anakin paces for a moment, running his hand through his hair. “But what about people like my mother who were brought here as slaves?”

“Exactly,” you say, enjoying the shock in his eyes. “If we make peace with the Sand People, and they know they’re dealing with an enslaved populace, they’re more likely to take in runaways and protect them. They may even become part of the liberation movement. We are always stronger together than we are alone, Anakin. Imagine what Tatooine would look like if everyone worked together to stop the Hutts.”

Anakin laughs, looking at you like he thinks you’re crazy. “I don’t know what planet you’re thinking of, but not Tatooine. You might get most of the people to work together, but there’s always going to be a handful of loyalists who’d rather keep things as they are because it benefits them.”

“You’re right,” you agree. “But we can still outnumber them if we try. The Hutts want us to feel hopeless; people at the top of power pyramids always do. As long as they can divide and separate and keep the masses below them living in a state of fear, they win. Forging alliances and holding onto hope is one of the best ways we can fight back.”

Anakin has been staring at you this whole time, a strange look in his eyes.

“What?” you ask him, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Anakin shakes his head, a strange smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You make a lot of sense. I’m not used to that.”

You grin and pull the Han Solo shrug. “I told you, I’m not Kenobi.”

“I know.” Anakin blushes, suddenly looking awkward. “Thanks for answering my questions. Goodnight, my lady.”

Eager to prove yourselves trustworthy in the eyes of the Sand People, the Skywalker-Lars family plans to assist in another escape. Thus, you find yourself once again in the landspeeder, flying across the Jundland Wastes towards Mos Espa on another mission for the White Suns. This time, Anakin parks the landspeeder in the alleyway behind yet another single-story, earthen building. Once again, Shmi knocks using a specific pattern, and a voice asks a series of questions. As always, Shmi answers the same way. The four of you enter what appears to be the workroom of a clothier’s shop; bolts of fabric in varying tones and textures line shelving covering an entire wall.

A cylindrical sewing assistant droid stands in a corner, stitching together layers of fabric. The willowy, green Twi’lek who opened the door closes it behind you.

He studies each of you in turn. “Sun Dragon.”

“Tailor,” Shmi greets him. “This is the Pilot and the Reader. You’ve met the Daughter before.”

Tailor nods, pursing his lips. “Our friend is already here. I’ll bring her in.”

He leaves the storage room, returning shortly with a Nikto whose green skin is several shades darker than his. “These are the White Suns.” Tailor gestures towards your group. “They’ll be helping you.”

The Nikto looks uncertain, their blue eyes darting from face to face.

Tailor turns to face them, placing both hands on either side of the Nikto’s horned head as he places his forehead against theirs. “You can do this, Tokreri. Remember your why.”

Tokreri nods and grunts affirmatively. “Thank you, my friend.”

Nikto turns to Shmi, a sudden ferocity in his brown eyes. “Take care of her.”

“We will,” Shmi promises him.

Tailor kisses Tokreri on her forehead before leaving back out the door through which he had brought her, closing and locking it behind him.

“Are you ready, Tokreri?” Shmi asks, gesturing towards a large metal table, likely used for cutting cloth.

Tokreri’s hand forms into a fist as though she is summoning her courage. Her eyes look terrified.

Remembering Tailor’s words, you take a half-step towards the muscular woman, extending an open hand. “Would it help to talk about why you want your freedom?” you ask. “You can hold my hand and tell me your story while they operate.”

Tokreri smiles at you, reaching out hesitantly. “You are not afraid to touch me?”

“No.” You shake your head, hand still extended.

The female Nikto takes your human hand in hers, her coarse, scaly skin rough against yours. 

Continuing to smile, you grip her hand tightly and lead her to the table. “Tell me about yourself, Tokreri.”

She smiles as she climbs up to sit on the table. “There isn’t much to tell. I was hatched into slavery like my mother before me and her mother before her.”

“For how many generations?” you ask, heart aching for the woman.

“I don’t know,” she answers with a sad smile. “The Hutts enslaved my entire planet generations ago. Sometimes it seems as if freedom is only a distant ancestral memory.”

“Then your ancestors must be very proud of you today, Tokreri.” You blink away tears, reaching for your one white stone and hoping it is enough to breathe past the burning resentment you feel towards the Hutts for profiting from slavery and a galaxy full of enablers so willing to turn a blind eye towards suffering.

Tokreri smiles at you, squeezing your hand as she lies down. “Thank you. I hope so. I refuse to allow my babies to be hatched into slavery.”

“Are you…” you pause, searching for the appropriate word, thinking back to the medical posters at the Doctor’s. “Egg-heavy?”

“Yes,” Tokreri says, her voice full of sorrow.

You nod, squeezing her hand. “We will be careful.”

Shmi and Beru approach the table, working in tandem as they often do, clearly accustomed to one another’s movements.

“What is your dream, Tokreri?” you ask, hoping to distract the woman from any fear or pain she might feel.

“My dream?” she asks, sounding confused.

“When you are free, what do you want to do with your life?” you clarify.

She smiles, a faraway look in her blue eyes. “I want to laugh and smile. I want to dance and sing whenever I feel like it, to teach my children to hunt, to tell them the tales of our ancestors.”

Your heart aches at the simplicity of her wishes. “That sounds like a beautiful life, Tokreri.”

“Thank you,” she says with another soft smile.

“All done,” Shmi informs you.

Tokreri flips herself off of the table with unexpected speed. Reaching into her tunic, she withdraws something from around her neck, pressing it into your hand. “Here, Reader. I want you to have this.”

Opening your palm, you discover a claw wrapped in some sort of leather to form a necklace. “But Tokreri…”

The Nikto woman shakes her head. “Please. It’s a warrior’s claw. When we survive our first battle, one of the elder Nikto gives us a shed claw to symbolize our place as warriors. You have given me courage today. It would honor me if you would wear my warrior’s claw.”

Trying not to cry, you place it around your neck. “Thank you, Tokreri.”

She smiles and grasps your hand. “I will always remember your kindness, Reader.”

After Cliegg and Owen have taken Tokreri off of Tatooine, Sandstorm and Heatwave gather their things and are preparing to leave. You join Anakin, Shmi, Threepio, and Beru beside the homestead’s entrance dome, each of you holding a gift for the warriors.

“Here.” You hand them a bag packed full of ration bars and basic medical supplies.

Anakin hands them a pair of night vision binocs. “Good hunting,” he says.

Shmi hands them a bundle of dried roots from the garden. “For your stew.”

Beru gives them a small set of tools. “Just in case.”

Threepio translates for each of you.

Sandstorm and Heatwave accept their gifts, adding to their Banthas’ packs. The second barrel of water has been hitched behind one of the large bovine-like creatures.

“Sandstorm thanks you for your hospitality and says the tribe honors you as allies,” Threepio says.

“You don’t have to talk to the chief?” Anakin frowns, seeming confused.

Heatwave throws back their head and makes a braying sound you've learned to recognize as their laughter before rattling something off in Tusken.

“They would have already killed you had you lied,” Threepio informs the group. “They were told to kill you in your sleep if you failed to live up to your words.”

Sandstorm says something.

“But you are extraordinarily trustworthy for settlers,” Threepio translates. “The Shifting Sands Tribe recognizes you as allies. What name would you have your tribe be called?”

Beru smiles at them and nods as though her moment has come. “We are honored to be your allies. You may call us the White Suns.”

Chapter Text

Your fourth mission with the White Suns begins at first sunset and finds Cliegg behind the wheel of the landspeeder, Shmi by his side, while you and Anakin ride in the back. A not-so-small part of you idly wonders if this means a return to the “cantina,”  the thought filling you with a feeling of unease. Judging from the body language of your fellow White Suns, they share your nervousness. Cliegg parks behind a different three-story building, easing your concerns, though you notice he and Shmi linger a little longer in their hug, as though they are worried it might be their last. The feeling of disquiet grows in your stomach as you exit the vehicle, climbing the stairs with your heart in your throat.

Shmi knocks her usual pattern upon the surface of the door. To your surprise, Dancer’s voice responds, she and Shmi engaging in the verbal passphrase while you wait, anxiously scanning the surrounding buildings. You notice Anakin doing the same.

Satisfied as to your identities, Dancer opens the door, admitting the three of you to her new room. “Sun Dragon,” she says by way of greeting. “Pilot. Reader.”

“Dancer,” Shmi smiles, her eyes still tight as though she too feels uneasy.

“I will go collect our friend,” Dancer informs you. She slips out of the room, leaving the three of you to stew in your nerves.

Intellectually, you know Dancer is only gone for as long as is necessary, likely no longer than before. Emotionally, it feels as if she is taking forever to return. When she finally does, all three of you breathe sighs of relief.

Dancer enters the room with another female Twi’lek, whose ebony skin and white dancing girl costume is the yin to Dancer’s yang. “These are the White Suns,” Dancer says to the newcomer with a sweep of her arm. “Sun Dragon, Pilot, and Reader.”

The second woman nods, a fire burning in her orange eyes. “I am ready.”

Dancer gestures towards her bed and the other woman follows her nonverbal cue, sitting down and waiting calmly while Shmi scans her.

It’s fine, everything is fine, you tell yourself, feeling the churning unease in your stomach intensify. One white stone, you think, reaching for the calming familiarity of your mantra. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me, you add for good measure. A sense of peace descends upon you and you feel as if the world has slowed around you. You watch as Shmi pulls out the deprogrammer and aims it at the other woman’s lower spine. Then there is a strange red light reflecting off the wall you're facing, the light flashing in a specific pattern.

At the same time, you hear Dancer’s sharp intake of breath and turn in time to see her face contort into an expression of fear and urgency. “The enforcers! We must hurry!”

Filled with an odd sense of detachment, you know what needs to be done. You pivot smartly, looking at Anakin. “Get them out of here. I’ll buy us some time.”

Before he or anyone else can stop you, you’re bolting for the door, which Dancer unlocks and opens for you as you slide out onto the balconied hallway, eyes taking in your surroundings as your body automatically moves into position. You hear the sound of pounding feet below you drawing closer, warning you that multiple people approach, several of them likely larger than you, judging from their footsteps. The wraparound balcony extends to the left and right on either side of you before curving to follow the lines of the walls. You assume the stairs must be at either end of the walkway, leaving you trapped in the middle. Although your instinct would be to draw any attackers away from the door, doing so would only leave it vulnerable from the other side. Instead, your best option is to stay where you are and wait for the enforcers to come to you.

You take a deep, calming breath in through your nose, your lower abdomen expanding as it fills with air. You release it slowly through your mouth, using your core muscles and diaphragm to push the air back out. I am one with the Force and the Force is one with me, you think, praying Anakin is or already has gotten his mother and the woman you’re here to rescue to the waiting landspeeder three stories below. Your eyes make out movement in the periphery of your vision, multiple targets barrelling towards you on both sides. Some appear to be Nikto while others are obviously Gamorreans. Thankfully, all of them appear to be carrying melee weapons such as stun batons and whips.

Unfortunately for you, the balconied hallway is devoid of any furnishings, leaving you with no improvisable weapons at hand. Your lightsaber, toy replica from Earth that it is, sits clipped to your belt with the rest of your Jedi robes back at the Lars residence. Even if I had it, it wouldn’t do me much good, you rationalize. It’s meant for sparring with other cosplayers, not standing up to real weapons. I should probably see if they’ll let me have a real one, you decide. If I actually make it out of this.

You don’t have time for stray thoughts anymore because the first Nikto is rushing at you headlong, as though they intend to spear you with the horns on their head. Taking a deep breath, you wait calmly until your attacker is almost within reach, spinning to the side at the last possible moment, adding the momentum of your roundhouse to the Nikto’s own kinetic energy and sending them over the edge of the balcony. Several screams accompany the shattering of glass. Your second and third assailants do not wait or give you the luxury of assessing them. All you have time to do is drop between them and roll back, coming up behind them to assist in their collision, using your hands to slam their heads together.

I am one with the Force and the Force is with me, you think as you whirl to confront your next attackers, twirling and spinning as you attempt to dodge more than block or attack. Rational thought leaves your mind, your focus narrowing to the deadly dance of combat, each kick and punch timed precisely to your enemy’s own movements, using their speed and size against them. You are so immersed in the trance-state of combat you never have a chance to notice the other enforcers at the end of the hall, or the blasters they carry until you hear an oddly familiar sound, belatedly recognizing the blue rings of an stun weapon as you lose control of your body and suddenly crumple to the floor like a footless sock. 

Your entire body feels as if it has fallen asleep; the sensation of full-body nerve tingling almost reminds you of stepping onto a fire ant mound or touching a live electrical wire. The worst part is being fully conscious while unable to control your body at all. Open your eyes, you think to yourself, wishing you had more senses to rely upon than just your hearing. Combat seems to have paused for the moment and you strain your ears, listening for the sound of footsteps over the collective groaning and moaning around you. A small part of you feels rather satisfied knowing those pained noises are entirely your fault. The rest of you waits in quiet terror for what happens next, praying you recover some of your bodily faculties before then. Open your eyes, damnit! Open them!

Your heart lurches in your chest at the sound of a door opening nearby. Please tell me they made it out, you think. Please tell me they’re safe. You’re so convinced the door has been opened by Hutt enforcers that the sound of the lightsaber startles you, a light of hope bursting in your chest even as you feel the need to cry. Oh, Anakin, you think, simultaneously grateful for his sudden reappearance and also heartbroken he’s returned. You had hoped to save him, and here he is, coming to your rescue. Then again, you should have expected nothing less. Knowing him, he probably used the Force to propel his mother and the Twi’leks to safety before returning to help you.

The cacophony of combat erupts around you once more, this time interspersed with the familiar zhooming sound of a lightsaber and the intermittent pew-pew-pew of blaster fire.

Open your eyes, you yell inside your own skull, cursing your unresponsive flesh for betraying you. Open your eyes . A scuffling sound nearby fills your chest with a quiet panic as it grows closer. Open. Your. EYES.

You struggle to raise your eyelids, vision slowly focusing as your nerves begin firing properly again, physical sensation returning just in time for you to feel the cold metal edge of a knife blade against your throat.

“Youka, Skywalker!” A rough, gravelly voice shouts from close to your ear, sounding unfortunately familiar. “Hasa do bu jicala-suom mo Jee killee mee chik.” 

Sebulba, you realize as your stomach falls through the floor, headed straight for Tatooine’s magnetic core. 

Your eyes finally find their focus, revealing an Anakin whose face is filled with anger and something else - fear, perhaps? He swallows, obviously at war with himself before he sighs, turning off his lightsaber with a flick of his thumb before dropping the handle to the floor. His eyes stay riveted on your captor, a mischievous glint in them. You suspect he’s about to use the Force to fight back when a series of blue rings strike him from behind, dropping him to the ground just as efficiently as they did you.

Sebulba’s laughter ripples down your spine like nails on a chalkboard and you fight the urge to shiver, willing yourself to move instead. Kick him, you think, but the most you manage to do is reflexively spasm.

Sebulba laughs even louder, pressing his knife harder against your throat. You can smell the stench of his last meal, as the hot, fetid air of his breath assaults your face.

Someone, you can’t tell if it’s Sebulba or some other unknown assailant, shoves you violently, rolling you onto your stomach as your wrists and ankles are bound behind you. You reach for your single white stone amid the rising sea of panic as you watch a pair of Nikto restrain Anakin the same way. Once bound, they pick you up and toss you over someone’s shoulder, the room swimming as the body odor of your captor smothers in you an utterly repugnant blanket of nauseating stench. You swallow back the rising tide of bile, closing your eyes against the sudden waves of vertigo. When you open them again, all you can see is the backside of the person who carries you as they march along the hallway and down the stairs, finally exiting the front door.

Kriff, you think to yourself, fighting against the terror and despair threatening to submerge you beneath their abysmal depths. Mamma and Dancer will send word to Shmi, won’t they? They have a plan for this, right? “Every time we go out to save someone, we risk our lives. It comes with the territory.” Cliegg’s words echo in your memory, bringing a surge of emotions with them. Please let us live through this, you find yourself begging the Force. Unwilling to allow the panic to win, you mentally grip your single white stone as hard as you can. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me, you repeat to yourself in time with your captor’s footsteps.

An indeterminate amount of time later, after your arms have gone mostly numb, your captor carries you inside a building, where you are unceremoniously dumped in a heap on the floor. As your eyes adjust to the dim interior, the sight of a large, slug-like form taking up most of your immediate field of view informs you of just how truly kriffed you are.

“Bkoha hoohah bimhee!” a husky, authoritative voice demands and you suddenly find yourself hauled to your feet to face a Hutt you recognize all too well.

Gardulla. Your stomach sinks even lower than before and you idly wonder if it’s going to exit the other side of Tatooine in its panicked flight. Part of you wishes you could literally fly along with it but the rest of you wouldn’t ever leave Anakin that way, especially not since you’re the reason he’s the captive of his former master right now.

“Doth heee bu ukaueth?” Gardulla asks.

“La doth,” Sebulba answers from somewhere behind you. “Jee neu hoohah.”

You grind your teeth, wondering how just much money Sebulba will make out of turning you in. 

“Sebulba cohai bu naha-ag.” One of the red Nikto you saw earlier steps forward, handing over Anakin’s lightsaber to Gardulla’s protocol droid. “Heee dopa doth jotke neu cay bu konpa whirlee. Bu ney cahka wa jicala-suom.”

“Uba pomka wa Jeedai?” Gardulla sounds surprised.

I wish I spoke Huttese so I could know what was going on, you mentally grumble to yourself.

“Dopa Jeedai,” the Nikto answers, gesturing at you. “Bu kana dokoi bacaka wa sacan. Ua paknee ata doptkee hunto see mah yae cay uen tiu kon.”

“Hahahahahaha.” Gardulla laughs, her voice full of cruelty. “Jee kehau kava che bu Publiko hatkocanh wamma bai gopptula hoohah.” She laughs again. “In ting Jee hatkocanh dwana hoohah peee bpuoiaee bai bu Bamohetce, bantkoke.” She turns to her protocol droid, and issues a command.

The silver droid pivots its bug-like head to stare at you and Anakin. “The great and mighty Gardulla wishes you to know that because you are Jedi, she has graciously agreed not to execute you for thievery. However, since you have stolen slaves from her, you will take their place as her property until such a time as the Republic is willing to pay to ransom you.”

Beside you, Anakin unexpectedly speaks up. “Bu chik ah goola chik youngee um ba x'hoo dokoi. Ua hatkocanh woy ba inkabunga gardo che mee bunko.”

One of the Nikto near Anakin suddenly lashes out, striking him with a whip, tearing through the fabric of his borrowed shirt and into the flesh beneath it. Your heart lurches, the rest of you following suit as you unconsciously reach for him. Your captor restrains you, jerking you back by your wrists and wrenching your shoulders. Anakin grunts in pain but remains standing, despite the blood now streaming down his back.

You feel like you might be sick again and bite your lip to keep from crying.

“Slaves do not speak unless spoken to,” the Nikto with the whip hisses at Anakin.

Anakin’s posture remains defiant.

It’s obvious he harbors exactly zero regrets for his choice. What did you say, Anakin, you wonder. What could possibly be worth that?

“Mmm… Haku sey uba, Gardo Lorda?” Gardulla asks, staring at you as though she’s evaluating a purchase.

“Ua doth sa azalus,” the red Nikto who seems to be in charge of the others replies with a shrug looking over his shoulder at you.

Gardulla issues another command to her protocol droid.

“The great and mighty Gardulla says you should be grateful to be her property and not Jabba’s,” the silver droid informs you. “Because she is wise and merciful, she has chosen to accept your offer. You, insolent slave, will become one of her podracing crew. Your girl will become a guard to the other dancing girls. Should either of you displease her, you can always be demoted. The wise and gracious Gardulla has spoken. You will now be taken to receive your implants.”

Before your brain can process what just happened, someone jabs you from behind with a stun baton and you fall down into an endless inky pit of unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

You wake to a throbbing head, a tender back, and the sensation of air moving across parts of your skin you’re not used to having exposed. Something cold and metallic is pinching the sensitive skin just under your armpit. Groaning, you sit up only to smack your head against the bunk above you. “Nnngh,” you moan, falling back onto the hard surface beneath you, accompanied by a dull metallic sound. After a moment, when your ears have stopped ringing, you open your eyes again, grateful for the dim light of whatever room you’re in. The way your head feels, you’re certain you’d be in even more agony if the lighting were any brighter.

Sitting up more slowly the second time, you take stock of your surroundings, beginning with yourself. You gingerly touch your pounding head to discover someone has braided your hair and pulled it back with some sort of decorative metal accessory. Looking down, you groan in frustration, realizing the same someone who did your hair also undressed and redressed you, placing you in a leather and metal bikini top and split silk skirt combo immediately recognizable to any Star Wars fan as the costume made famous by the Huttslayer herself. The only thing missing is a chain, you think, running your hand along the collar. Thankfully. At least they left Tokreri’s claw. You wrap your hand around the necklace, focusing on it as a talisman and tangible reminder people can and do escape this fate.

Taking a deep breath, you mentally reach for your one white stone. Get a grip, you tell yourself. First I need to figure out what’s going on, then I can do something about these uncomfortable clothes.

You’re sitting on the edge of a bunk that looks as if it has been carved from the walls, or more likely, poured from the same durocrete and sand mixture. Two more identical beds sprout from the beige walls above it. This pattern repeats itself along the curved wall in either direction as well as the parallel one, creating sleeping spaces for at least thirty people. A wide, arched doorway interrupts the pattern, and a rough-spun, brown cloth hangs across it as a door. You hear the sound of muted voices from the other side, as well as smell something delicious, reminding you how long it has been since you’ve eaten. You were supposed to have dinner tonight with the Lars family; it was your and Anakin’s turn to do the dishes.

A pang of unexpected grief washes over you, making you realize how much you miss them and the comforting simplicity of life on the homestead. The single stab of sorrow swiftly becomes an onslaught as you realize Anakin must be feeling something similar wherever he is, though no doubt his pain is laced with the terror of repeating the worst years of his life. Like a jealous sibling, guilt decides to join the surprise pity party of emotions swirling in your heart, quietly whispering that all of this is your fault. I should have ordered Anakin to stay at the homestead, you try to rationalize. Another part of you disagrees. I did tell him to leave, she argues. Yes, but he is here on Tatooine because of me. He came back and risked his life to rescue me. And they beat him for it. You double over on yourself, burying your head in your hands as your brain replays the scene in Gardulla’s receiving room. 

Anakin says something in Huttese and is immediately whipped for it.

“Slaves do not speak unless spoken to,” the enforcer hisses.

Gardulla and another Nikto converse about something while staring at you. And then her droid says… your brain screeches to a halt. Gardulla’s protocol droid said she would accept your offer. But you didn’t say anything, meaning she must have been replying to Anakin. “Your girl will become a guard to the other dancing girls.”  Your brain skips over the part about them calling you his girl; they’re obviously mistaken. Instead, your mind latches onto the part about accepting your offer. Anakin must have said something to Gardulla in an attempt to protect you. Swallowing, you remember all too well how traumatized and haunted he looked when he spoke about the dancing girls. Those lashes he took, his defiant posture… Anakin knew they would whip him for speaking and he did so anyway to protect you from the fate of being a Hutt dancing girl. The swirling storm of emotions in your chest coalesces into a rainstorm, teardrops falling from your eyes in a deluge. Part of you can’t help but feel you’ve failed him. In trying to save him from the sorrow of losing his mother, you’ve escorted him back into his childhood hell.

Your stomach growls, interrupting your pity party. Taking a deep breath, you wipe away your tears and reach for your one white stone. As good as it might feel to cry, doing so isn’t solving any of your problems. First, you need to eat. Then you can figure out how to ditch these clothes for something more comfortable and find Anakin. Together, the two of you can find a way out of this.

One white stone, you think, rotating the object in your mind as you pull back the curtain to reveal a large, circular room filled with even more beds and a whole host of people of varying species. No one seems to notice or even pay any attention to you, other than the pair of Nikto on either side of the door who track you with their eyes, but give no other indication or acknowledgment of your existence. In fact, as you follow your nose through the crowded space, searching for Anakin as you walk, you realize everyone is ignoring you, even the children. Their behavior isn’t overt, or even unkind in any way, just avoidant. Everyone you pass seems suddenly interested in their meal or whatever conversation they were having. Even the gaggle of children you pass all keep their eyes to themselves. By the time you reach the far side of the room, you’ve begun to wonder if you’re invisible or marked in some way you can’t see. Thankfully, the Blutopian standing over the large cauldron in the kitchen sees you. She gives you what you assume is a sympathetic smile before adding a second ladleful of food into the wooden bowl she hands you. You turn around and exit the kitchen, instantly reminded of the childhood nightmare of not having anyone to eat lunch with on the first day of school. You pick your way back across the room, past small groups of humanoids of all ages. Rodians, Humans, Duros, Arcona, and Chadra-Fans intermingle in small groups clustered together. As you walk, you realize you haven’t seen any Twi’lek among them, nor any human women your own age. In fact, the only women you’ve seen among the groups appear to be old or young. Scanning the room, you finally spot them, three groups of girls in outfits nearly identical to yours, all gathered together back near the doorway with the curtain and the guards. A handful of children stay near the dancing girls, yet apart from the rest of the room as though an invisible barrier separates them. You pick a spot of unoccupied wall near a group of dancing girls and lean against it to eat your dinner.

Whatever the stew they served you is, at least it tastes good. With every spoonful, your eyes wander the room, searching for Anakin and cataloging your surroundings.

If the arched doorway to your left is at six o’clock then the kitchen is at two. Two smaller, similarly curtained arched doorways stand at four and eight. You see two additional doorways at nine and one, though both of them are covered by what you can only describe as portcullises. A raised, circular opening dominates the center of the room. You aren’t entirely sure what it is or what it's used for. Unfortunately, you still haven’t seen Anakin. Then again, given how hard he tried to protect you from being a dancing girl, you don’t really want him to see you in these clothes, lest he feel like he failed. Wherever he is, you think, let him hold onto the hope that his words were worth it.

You’ve barely found the bottom of your bowl when a bell rings several times, signaling some sort of change. All around the room, parents begin picking up children and carrying them off to beds. The dancing girls closest to you deposit their bowls in a stack on a nearby table and begin gathering their own children. 

Realizing you can either stick out and make a scene - likely to end in a similar treatment to what Anakin received - or you can do your best to fit in and observe while you wait for an opportunity to escape. Choosing patience over the end of an enforcer’s whip, you add your bowl to the stack and follow the other girls back into the room behind the curtain. Most head to their own bunks but several proceed to either end of the curvilinear space, disappearing behind more curtains. The sound of running water confirms your suspicions. At least now I know where the freshers are , you think.

You climb back into the bunk you found yourself in, stretching yourself out as best you can on the unforgiving surface. Between the hardness of the bed and the scratchiness of the threadbare blanket, you doubt you’ll be getting any sleep. Instead, you decide to meditate. At least your body can rest even if your mind doesn’t.

You mentally reach for your white stone and begin turning it in your mind as you count backwards from one hundred. Ninety-Nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven. What if I never find Anakin? Ninety-six, ninety-five. What if no one ever comes to rescue us? Ninety-four, ninety-three, ninety-two. Shmi and Cliegg know we stayed behind. Mamma and Dancer must know we were captured. Surely someone knows by now. Ninety-one, Ninety. Unless they’re all dead.

This thought chills you so deeply that you lose track of where you are in your countdown. What if I’m doomed to spend the rest of my life as a Hutt slave girl? Anakin’s wounded back and defiant shoulders flash across the surface of your mind. No, I won’t let that happen. Not for Anakin or for myself. I will find a way out of here. I will.

Silencing the intrusive worries, you focus instead on your resolve. After all, you’ve been called stubborn and hardheaded your entire life, you might as well use that to your advantage. You have a better education than most people in this galaxy, as well as a nerd-level knowledge of the lore. If anyone can plot their way out of Hutt enslavement, it’s you. Perhaps, if you’re lucky, you can even take the whole damn system down with you. Smiling to yourself in the dark, you mentally grip your white stone with both hands and sink deep into the conviction stirring in your core.

What do I know about this place? you ask yourself. The walls are curved; so it’s probably another circular structure just like almost every other building in Mos Espa. I bet the walls are super-thick too. You mentally replay dinner in your mind, studying the room. There are two barred doorways, one small and one large. Each is guarded by Nikto. The Gamorreans guard the receiving room, as do the Trandoshans and Weequay. But I didn’t see any of those species at dinner other than the Nikto on guard. Meaning the muscle is kept elsewhere, you reason. Just like the dancing girls are kept separate from the other slaves. Why did I get thrown in here instead of out there or elsewhere? Do all young girls automatically get fitted for dancing girl garb and stuck in here? Why are we under guard? And why wouldn’t anyone look at me? Unless… you pause, remembering Anakin’s face when he spoke about the dancing girls. The dancing girls are Gardulla’s bargaining chips to be given to her allies and business partners for their carnal enjoyment. Which means the longer I stay in these clothes, the longer I risk being gifted to some cretin. So how do I get out of them?

Your brain replays the scene from Gardulla’s receiving room. She studies you while talking to a red Nikto who appears to be in charge of the others. They’re the boss guard, you think. I need to talk to them about these clothes. You mentally rewind, studying what you remember of the receiving room. Even the Gamorreans - who generally seem to only wear pants - also possess shoulder pads, vambraces and helmets. The Weequay and Trandoshans have armor. So do the Nikto. I deserve to wear armor too, you think. They know how thin human skin is; they see it every time they whip someone. I just didn’t get armor because someone assumed I was a dancing girl. Humans don’t usually become guards. Grabbing Tokreri’s claw, you grip the curved object tightly. But I’m not like the other humans. I convinced the Sand People. I can convince the Nikto as well.

But then what? Having armor and a weapon doesn’t get me out of here. Or help me find Anakin. What did the droid say? They sent him to work on the podracers. Which means I need an excuse to go wherever the workshops are. A weapon? Can I convince them to make me a custom weapon? Rolling ideas over in your head like a rock tumbler, you finally fall asleep.

Unfortunately for you, your dreams are far from restful. Instead, they are haunted by your fears. You spend the majority of them wandering a mist-filled, insubstantial landscape alone, searching vainly for Anakin, anything vaguely familiar, or even the way home.

Accustomed to waking with the rising of the first sun, or at first dawn as the locals call it, you find yourself awake long before any of the others in the birdcage. Feeling stiff and sore from the unforgiving bed, you slip quietly out of your bunk and into an open spot of the floor where you begin flowing through several sun salutations to loosen your muscles.

You’re in your fifth round, belly flat on the floor and back arched upward when the feeling of being watched grows so intense that you can’t help but open your eyes. A pair of wide brown ones stare back, accompanied by a quiet giggle. They belong to a blue Twi’lek toddler who is shortly toppled over by a second child who appears almost identical except for their green skin and yellow eyes.

You can’t help but laugh a little with them.

“Whatchu doin’?” the blue child asks.

“Yeah,” the green one chimes in.

Based on their nearly identical expressions, you suspect they’re twins. “Yoga,” you answer with a smile.

“Yo-ga,” the blue twin says slowly. “Can we do yoga?”

“Sure.” You can’t help but like the two of them. “I’m Indra. What are your names?”

“Seer’aa,” answers the blue toddler.

“Teer’aa,” replies green.

You patiently show the twins how to do a few simple yoga poses, each of which they undertake with a seriousness at odds with their age. 

All three of you are stretching up for tree pose when a teal Twi’lek woman approaches you, an odd look on her face. “I hope the twins didn’t wake you.”

You smile and shake your head. “Not at all.”

“They aren’t bothering you?” She seems genuinely worried.

“No,” you reassure her. “We’ve just been practicing together.”

“Practicing?” she asks.

“Yoga. It’s an ancient technique from my planet for clearing your mind and strengthening your body,” you answer.

“May I join you?” she asks.

“Of course.” You lead the three of them through a few more poses before Seer’aa and Teer’aa freeze, turning to look at each other, both wearing matching expressions of fear. 

“Deasha’s coming,” they say in unison before darting away towards a bunk.

“She’s the Whirlee Lorda,” the teal Twi’lek says as though that explains everything before darting away to the same bunk as the twins.

Copying your new friends, you quickly return to standing in front of your own bunk, listening as the footsteps grow closer. 

A purple hand pulls aside the edge of the curtain and in steps a jewel-covered Twi’lek, her lekku wrapped in what appear to be strips of gold. “Chut chut, whirlee,” the purple woman all but purrs. “Time to rise and shine, my beautiful flowers.” Her yellow eyes roam the room, pausing on you. “Oh, a new one.” She slinks towards you, looking you up and down as though you’re a horse she’s just purchased. “Spin,” she commands, gesturing with her hand.

Biting back your anger you do so, mentally summoning your one white stone.

“Mmm,” she clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Curvy enough, and certainly pretty enough. Too bad your species is cursed with such boring coloration.” Daesha continues eyeing you. “Still, you can serve drinks, if nothing else.” She gestures to someone you can’t see. “Come, fix her face.”

A lanky, blue Twi’lek slinks silently to your side, makeup implements already in his hands as he begins “fixing your face”.

The whirlee lorda - whatever that means - continues walking the room, inspecting each dancing girl and giving instructions to a small crew of people whose entire job appears to be maintaining the beauty of Gardulla’s harem. 

After making her rounds, Daesha returns to the doorway and spins around, studying the room. “Much better. Come, whirlee.” She snaps her fingers and pivots gracefully, leading the group of you out into the common room and towards the kitchen where you retrieve your breakfast and return to the wall next to your room. Daesha, thankfully, does not stay. Instead, she saunters back across the room to the larger of the two gated doorways. The Nikto nod and open the metal orifice for her. You notice it functions more like a gate than a portcullis. You finish your breakfast gruel quickly and leave your bowl on the same table as last night before turning to the closest Nikto guard and staring at them silently. You know from what they said to Anakin that you can be whipped for speaking first, but no one said you couldn’t be annoying.

“What do you want, whirlee?” the green Nikto asks with an irritated growl.

“To speak to the guard boss,” you answer calmly.

The Nikto laughs. “And why would I help you do that?”

Something, you aren’t sure what, whispers that this is your only chance. Remembering your library reading you smile at the Nikto and gesture with your hand, pulling energy up through your feet and pushing it out of your palm. “You want to take me to the boss because you’re bored and watching me get my ass kicked will be entertaining.”

“I’m bored,” the Nikto grumbles. “But watching you get your ass kicked would be entertaining. Come with me.”

Smiling to yourself you follow the guard. As you walk towards the large metal gate, a wave of giddy hope rises up within you, a feeling almost like champagne bubbles. I did it! you think, I used the Force. Maybe I really am a Jedi.

The metal gate turns out to be the door to a cargo lift, which your escort operates. You count the number of floors as you pass them. The lift stops on the second floor. Instead of exiting the way you entered, the guard escorts you out the back of the lift, turning left around a corner and then left again to enter another large, circular room like the one you ate breakfast in this morning. Your escort leads you across the room. This one contains large trestle tables and chairs, most of which are occupied by Nikto, Trandoshans, Weequay and a few Gamorreans. A lone purple Twi’lek catches your eye, an unmistakable glare of annoyance written on Daesha’s face. She rises from her seat to follow as you and your guard reach the far wall, where your guard presses a button near a metal door.

“Haku da naga?” A familiar voice demands.

“Heee ah whirlee wata bei neu uba,” your guard answers.

Daesha reaches you just as the metal door slides open.

“Doneba,” the familiar voice commands.

All three of you enter and the metal door closes behind you.

The red Nikto in charge looks up from his breakfast. “Haku doth bu chaduae?” He stares at each of you in turn. 

The green Nikto gestures at you. “This whirlee wanted to speak with you.”

The Boss stares at you for a moment. “You’re the human woman from yesterday.”

“I am,” you confirm.

They nod. “What is the problem?”

“This.” You gesture to your clothes. “How am I supposed to do my job and protect the dancing girls when everyone treats me like one of them? And how am I supposed to fight without armor? Every other guard and enforcer wears it.”

The Boss nods. “You make sense. What objections have you?”

Daesha steps forward, shaking her head. “How can we have an ugly woman among the dancers? She cannot be armored like the guards.”

The Boss nods again. “You also make sense.” They turn to you. “You are the first human guard we have. We have no armor for you.”

“Surely there is someone who can make armor.” Your mind races, trying to figure out how to convince them. Gardulla’s words about how you should be grateful replay in your mind. “I would have thought Gardulla would have the power to outfit me in custom armor; Jabba could.”

The Boss stares at you for several silent moments before speaking. “There is a clothier who could make it for you but that will take time.”

“Then allow me to make my own to wear until then,” you suggest. You are, after all, a cosplayer.

Daesha appears agitated. “But our reputation.”

“Obviously, Lady Daesha should supervise my efforts.” You refuse to give up. “To ensure my attire is appropriate to bring glory to Gardulla.”

The Boss nods. “This is acceptable to me. Daesha?”

The Twi’lek nods, stroking her lekku. “It is.”

“Is that all?” the Boss asks.

“There is one other thing,” you say. “I require discreet weaponry that can be hidden on my body, so that it will allow me to serve Gardulla by protecting her investments and also not offend her … sensibilities.”

The boss blinks and nods. “We do not have these for you.”

“Then send me to the mechanics and engineers,” you say, faking a confidence you do not feel. “Certainly the mighty Gardulla has people capable of making me simple weapons?”

“Yes, fine,” the Boss agrees, sounding as if they are eager to be rid of you. “Daesha, take her to go make some temporary armor and then to the clothier’s shop. Chadrum, you will escort her on these errands to ensure Gardulla’s investment. When this is complete, take her to have weapons made. Understood?”

“Yes, Guardo Lorda,” Chadrum answers.

“Yes, Guardo Lorda,” Daesha echoes his response, her tone making clear how little she likes the thought of spending her whole day with you.

“Good. Get out.” Guardo Lorda returns to eating their breakfast.

Chapter Text

This time, the lift descends three floors before stopping. Chadrum escorts you and Daesha around the corner to a room filled with a hodgepodge of overflowing supply shelves and miscellaneous work stations.

“We require armor for a human,” Chadrum demands of the older human woman who approaches your group.

“But fashionable armor,” Daesha adds. “She guards the whirlee.”

By now, you’ve come to theorize whirlee is Huttese for dancing girls.

“Hmm,” the old woman says, studying you. She grabs a scrap of leather from the shelves and holds it up to your stomach. “What about this?”

Deasha purses her lips in a grimace of obvious distaste. “Certainly not. We want to see those stomach muscles of hers.”

The old woman sighs and rolls her eyes. Chadrum snorts. Daesha pretends not to notice.

“Wait here,” the old woman instructs you before wandering deeper into the labyrinthine shelving. You hear her rummaging around followed by a quiet “aha.” She returns shortly, some sort of mesh in her hand. “I have just the thing.” She drapes the material around you, the links comprising it slowly warming as they come into contact with your skin. Whatever this metal mesh is, its coils are thin enough to see through quite easily.

Daesha nods slowly. “This could work.”

“Does it block blades,” Chadrum asks.

The old woman holds it out to them. Chadrum pulls a knife out of somewhere and slices at the fabric in the woman’s hands. It clinks and ripples much like you would expect chainmail to. 

Chadrum nods, replacing their weapon. “This is acceptable.”

Despite your intention to do the work yourself, you spend the next several hours like a living doll while Chadrum and Daesha dither with the old woman over the fine line between protection and provocativity. In the end, your new clothing is slightly more modest and armored than what you were initially placed in, even if it isn’t any more comfortable and still looks like you belong in a comic book drawn for the lusty male gaze. A sheer curtain of mail hangs from your bikini top, protecting your organs from melee attacks. Your silk skirt has been shortened and covered by mail. Leather vambraces cover your wrists and shins.

“But what about my heart?” you ask, noticing your chest is still too exposed for comfort.

“What about it?” Daesha asks, sounding as if she is about to run out of patience.

“It’s exposed,” you explain. “This top doesn’t protect it.”

Daesha smiles at you, an expression you find more disturbing than comforting. She reaches one manicured hand out to caress the side of your face, a gesture you find entirely too intimate for the circumstances. “And cover those lovely assets of yours? No. You will just have to protect your heart yourself, cheeka.”

You shrink away from her touch.

Chadrum clears their throat, taking a step forward. “Hands to yourself, Whirlee Lorda. This one is not yours to molest.”

Daesha glares at the Nikto before stalking away. “I’m going to get lunch now. Since she’s one of yours, you can manage her from here.”

She clearly means this to be some sort of punishment or insult, but Chadrum just rolls their eyes and glares at the Twi’lek’s retreating form.

After the metal door slides closed behind her, Chadrum exhales, looking more relaxed. “I hate that schutta,” they mutter.

“I can see why,” you agree. “Thanks for intervening.”

Chadrum shrugs. “She uses her power to make everyone uncomfortable. Be wary of her, she’s not a cheeka you want to be your enemy.”

“I think it might be a little late for that,” you admit with a smile as the old woman ties off her thread.

Chadrum laughs, shaking their head. “I knew you were trouble when I saw you.”

“Oh?” You can’t help but wonder what they mean.

Chadrum nods. “Boss took a dozen enforcers with him last night. He came back with two still standing; the ones carrying you and your friend. Everyone else was limping or on a stretcher. I’ve never seen a human take down so many strong warriors. I knew you must have earned your claw.”

Your hand strays to Tokreri’s claw, gripping it tightly. “It was a gift from a friend.”

“Your friend must have considered you a brave warrior,” Chadrum says.

“She did.” You smile, trying to cover your sudden urge to cry because Chadrum reminded you of Tokreri.

Chadrum claps you on the shoulder. “She would be proud of the courage you showed today.”

The lift rises two levels and stops, opening up to a workshop area, made immediately obvious by the sound of various tools in operation. You try to scan the room for Anakin, but Chadrum stalks through it like a warrior on a mission, leaving you no time to be thorough, especially when half of the workers have their heads bent over a task or are physically underneath something. Chadrum leads you through what appears to be a cargo area and then through two rooms full of electronics and a barracks room before you exit into Gardulla’s receiving room via a side door. The guards at the first gate nod at you as you pass, as do those at the second and those at the third.

The bright light of the suns is nearly blinding after being inside and you find yourself blinking furiously and squinting in response.

Beside you, Chadrum chuckles. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“No,” you admit with a sigh, thinking how far away and completely surreal your life on Earth seems now.

Chadrum turns right out of the palace gates and heads down what appears to be one of the main streets in Mos Espa. “Where are you from?” they ask.

“Far, far away,” you quip, trying to make yourself feel a little better.

“So… Coruscant?” they guess.

“No,” you reply more vehemently than you mean to.

Chadrum laughs. “So… an Outer Rim world then. Raxus?”

“No.” You shake your head.

“Mandalore?” Chandrum guesses 

“No,” you say with a grin, feeling flattered by the implicit compliment. “It’s a really obscure planet called Earth.”

“Oh.” Chadrum continues walking. “You’re right. I’ve never heard of it. What’s it like?”

“Blue,” you respond. “From all the oceans. There’s a lot of green too. And some deserts like this.”

“Sounds inkabunga,” Chadrum replies.

“Inkabunga?” you ask.

“Incredible,” Chadrum answers.

“And whirlee is dancing girls?” 

Chadrum nods. “Yes.”

You think about the other words you’ve heard used several times today. “What about lorda?”

“Boss,” Chadrum informs you.

“So Daesha is the Whirlee Lorda and Gardo Lorda is… the Guard Boss?” you guess.

“Exactly,” Chadrum agrees. “You’re a quick learner.” They turn down a side street and enter one of the shops. 

A familiar-looking green Twi’lek turns around, his eyes widening briefly before the expression is replaced by a friendly smile. “Chadrum! It’s so good to see you. What can I do for the Mighty Gardulla today?”

Tailor! You fight to keep your expression neutral.

“Valsil,” Chadrum greets him. “My friend here requires armor Lady Daesha will find … acceptable?”

Tailor, or Valsil, narrows his eyes as he looks at you. “I suppose this is what she considers acceptable?”

Chadrum laughs. “You know her.”

“Indeed I do.” Valsil rolls his eyes. “All right. Well, I’ll have to strip her down so I can get proper measurements and discuss design. Will you be a dear and guard the front end for me?”

“Of course,” Chadrum agrees.

Valsil makes a great show of looking at your outfit in disgust. “Alright, miss. You can come with me.” He ushers you into the rear storage room, closing and locking the door behind you. “First, I’ll need to get your measurements, miss. Please undress,” he says at normal volume before dropping his voice to a whisper. “Reader! Dancer said you’d been taken. Are you alright?”

You shrug, turning around so Valsil can help undo the bikini top. “They made me a guard,” you whisper.

Valsil sighs, unhooking the top carefully. “Better that than a dancer.”

“Pilot took a beating to ensure it,” you inform him quietly.

“Please raise your arms, miss.” Valsil proceeds to measure your bust. “Is he safe as well?” he asks in a whisper.

“He’s supposed to be a podracing mechanic,” you answer just as quietly. “But I haven’t seen him.”

“It had to be Gardulla,” Tailor sighs again. “It’s hard to get anyone out of her fortress.” He measures your waist.

“They keep me on the first subfloor,” you tell him in a whisper. “I don’t know where they’re keeping the Pilot.” 

“Understood,” Tailor whispers as he measures from your shoulders to your waist. “You can put your top back on,” Valsil informs you in a normal voice.

You manage to get the top back on with his help. “This really is awful,” you admit with a laugh.

Valsil chuckles. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix that. I’m afraid I need you to remove your skirt now, miss.”

You do as he asks, sliding off the metal and silk contraption until you’re standing in your thinskins.

Valsil proceeds to measure your hips. “I’ll get word to the Sun Dragon. Be careful when you open any packages from me. They may contain surprises,” he whispers.

“Understood,” you answer quietly.

He measures your legs. “I wish I could do more,” he says softly.

“Even this is a gift,” you reassure him quietly. “Truly. Thank you.”

“You can get dressed now,” Valsil informs you in a normal tone of voice.

You slide back on your skirt and turn to face him.

“Now, as for your armor, what are your thoughts?” he asks, unlocking and opening the workroom door.

“Do you have something I could draw on?” you ask.

“Certainly,” Valsil says, handing you a datapad and stylus. 

You accept both objects and begin sketching out Xena’s armor from memory. If you have to spend the next however long of your life living in a single outfit, it might as well be the armor of the warrior princess herself. When you are finished, you pass the sketch back to Valsil.

“Hmm. I like it.” He nods approvingly. “This may take some time to accomplish and I may need to see you for several fittings.” He gives you a look which you interpret to mean he’s drawing the process out deliberately. “I will send word when you are needed for your next fitting.”

You dip your head in what you hope is a respectful bow. “Thank you, sir.”

Valsil laughs. “Oh, don’t worry, Gardulla will be paying me quite well for this.”

“Who was your friend?” Chadrum asks as they turn onto the larger road.

Their question catches you off-guard.  “What?”

“The Nikto who gave you a warrior’s claw,” they ask. “What was their name?”

“Her name is Tokreri,” you answer.

Chadrum turns to look at you, an odd glint in their eye.

You continue walking, pretending not to notice. Chadrum keeps pace with you, saying nothing. Just when you think they’ve forgotten the conversation, they speak, their voice quiet. “I thought that claw looked familiar.”

A shiver ripples down your spine and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve made a mistake in trusting Chadrum. One white stone, you think. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. “Oh,” you ask, feigning nonchalance. “How do you know Tokreri?”

“She is my broodmate. My sister.” Chadrum narrows their eyes. “Where is she?”

“Safe,” you answer. “Somewhere far from here where she can be free.”

Chadrum grunts. “Good.”

You swallow nervously, unable to read their body language.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you,” Chadrum asks after several long moments of silence.

“One of whom?” You suspect you know what they’re going to say, but you have to ask anyway.

“The White Suns,” Chadrum says in a quiet voice, just loud enough for your ears alone.

You turn your head to look at them while you walk. “If I say yes, are you going to turn me in?”

Chadrum shakes their head. “No, I want in. Or out rather. I want to be free like my sister.”

“Yes,” you answer, hoping this isn’t a terrible idea.

Chadrum nods. “I thought so. What do we do?”

“What… how?” you ask, frowning.

Chadrum gives you a look. “Sebulba said he saw the famous podracer Anakin Skywalker and a human girl in the cantina the night two Chadra-Fans disappeared. Then the Boss takes twelve enforcers and ten of them come back wounded carrying two captive humans; a yellow-haired human man who looks a lot like Anakin Skywalker, and you. My sister disappears after visiting Valsil’s shop, which also happens to be the first place you ask to go. That and you’re wearing my grandmother’s claw.”

You instinctively reach for Tokreri’s claw. “I am?”

Chadrum pulls theirs out from behind their leather cuirass. “You are. My grandmother shed two claws that year. One went to my sister, and one went to me.”

“I didn’t know,” you say. “Should I… do you want it back?”

“No,” Chadrum says rather emphatically. “It is the ancestor’s way of telling me I can trust you. Keep it. My sister gave it to you because you earned it.”

“Oh,” you say, uncertain how to respond. “Thank you.”

Chadrum nods. “So, what do we do?”

“First,” you answer, “we find my friend.”

“The podracer,” Chadrum says. “You want to go to the engineers for a weapon so you can look for your friend.”

“Exactly,” you confirm.

On your way back into Gardulla’s palace, Chadrum slows to a leisurely pace, sauntering through the cargo area and into the workshop like they haven’t a care in the world. “Which one do you think we should pick,” they ask aloud.

“Hmm,” you say, pretending to think about the question. “I don’t know. How will I know which engineer is skilled enough?” Meanwhile, you scan the room, looking for Anakin. Your eyes fail to find him. Feeling frustrated, you take a deep breath and reach for your one white stone. I am one with the Force and the Force is one with me, you remind yourself. Anakin, where are you? You picture him in your mind’s eye, summoning a mental image of him laughing with you in the temple. ‘Anakin.’ You reach into the Force instinctively, seeking the warm sunshine feeling you have in his presence. ‘ Anakin.’

‘Indra?’ Movement in the far corner of the room catches you eyes as someone suddenly sits up, emerging out from underneath an engine. A familiar pair of hands reaches up to remove the welding goggles on their face and your heart leaps in your chest.

‘Anakin!’

His face breaks into a grin and for the briefest of moments everything is right in your world. ‘ Indra!’

You can’t help but grin in return.

“That one looks promising,” Chadrum suggests, walking swiftly towards Anakin and placing themselves between you. “You, engineer. We have a project for you.”

Did he hear me, you wonder as you walk towards him. ‘Anakin, can you hear me?’

“Yes,” Anakin answers aloud. “How can I help you, gardo?”

A wave of elation washes over you as you realize you just used another Force ability. 

“My friend here needs a custom weapon.” Chadrum turns slightly so that Anakin can actually see you.

Your heart leaps again at the sight of him. Poor Anakin looks terrible, one of his eyes is swollen and purple.

Anakin has a strange look on his face, part elation, part relief, and something else you can’t quite name. “How can I assist you, my lady?”

“I require weapons I can keep hidden,” you explain. ‘Are you alright? What happened?’

“Did you have something specific in mind?” Anakin asks. ‘I’m fine. I ran into an old acquaintance.’

“Some sort of sharpened hair sticks I could use for stabbing or throwing,” you muse aloud. “And a bladed fan or two.” ‘I hope the other guy looks worse.’

Anakin grins at you. 'He does.' “I’ll need some metal scraps for that.”

“Fine,” Chadrum says. “Come with us.”

Chadrum leads the two of you into the lift and it’s all you can do to keep from grinning like an idiot and hugging Anakin.

Staring at the floor, Anakin chuckles quietly. ‘I missed you too.’

Chadrum escorts you back down to the second sublevel. Instead of exiting the lift to the fore or aft, you exit out the side and walk down a curving corridor, stopping at the second to last door before the end. Chadrum keys in a code and the metal door slides open. 

You follow Anakin into the bedroom, turning to look at Chadrum, an unspoken question on your lips.

Before you can say anything, Chadrum does. “It’s an unassigned guard room. We use them for…” they pause as if searching for the right word. “…meetings. I’ll go get us some lunch from the second floor guard kitchens. Should take me half a mark. Lock the door behind me. I’ll knock in a pattern,” they demonstrate said pattern. “So you know it's me. Have fun.” Chadrum grins and makes a face you imagine is a wink before slipping back through the doorway.

The door closes itself and Anakin locks it, color filling his cheeks with an odd look on his face. Despite his earlier excitement to see you, he still stands near the doorway, awkwardly staring at the floor.

What is going on? you wonder, unable to figure out why Chadrum was acting so strangely or why Anakin appears embarrassed. “Anakin, are you alright?”

Anakin continues investigating the floor, still blushing. “I’m fine,” he lies, running his hand through the short, spiky hair on top of his head.

“Then why are you avoiding looking at me?” you ask. “You seem embarrassed.”

Anakin looks up with a bemused expression on his face, meeting your eyes. “You really don’t know what this room is for, why they brought us down here?”

“No,” you frown, feeling even more confused. “Chadrum brought us here so we could have a meeting.”

Anakin laugh-sighs, covering his face with one hand, his ears turning red. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you answer, wondering what all the fuss is about.

Anakin pulls down his hand with another laughing sigh as if he’s trying to wipe the flush off of his face. “Sometimes you’re so innocent, it’s mind-boggling. This is a … liaison room.”

“Liaison?” You frown, still not getting it.

Anakin rolls his eyes, laughing awkwardly, looking like he’d rather be anywhere in the galaxy than have this conversation with you. “Sex. People use this room to have affairs.”

“Oh,” you say with a startled laugh, shocked by the idea of anyone imagining the two of you together. This is Anakin Skywalker, he belongs with Padmé, not you.

As though your mirth is the permission he needed, Anakin joins in, his awkwardness transforming into laughter.

When you can breathe again you stop and look at him, an absurd idea forming in your mind. Maybe it’s because you watched one too many musicals as a child and Yentl was one of your favorites, but you can’t help yourself. An awkward situation like this calls for a playful response, and you’re too amused to keep from suggesting it. “Okay, but if they think that’s what we’re doing it gives us the perfect cover for meeting regularly and planning our escape.”

Anakin looks like can’t decide if he wants to laugh, cry, throw up, or all three. “I really want to be mad at you right now but that’s kinda brilliant.”

You can’t help but giggle a little. “Right? All we have to do is be convincing.”

“Convincing?” Anakin swallows, still looking directly into your eyes.

“Yeah, you know,” you grin, looking at the bed. “Come on.” You take a running leap, jumping up onto the bed, experimentally bouncing on it once or twice and making a moaning sound.

Anakin looks equal parts horrified, shocked, and amused. Finally he shakes his head and comes to join you, bouncing up beside you with a grunt. This elicits another giggle which you follow with a moan, a sudden impish impulse filing your mind as you grab a pillow and hit him with it. Anakin manages to look startled for half a heartbeat before he grabs another and smacks you with it so hard it explodes, causing its stuffing to rain down around you. The seriousness of your situation temporarily forgotten, the two of you bounce on the bed for several minutes, struggling for ownership of the pillow as you both compete to make the loudest fake sex sounds possible. Before long, the two of you are stretched out on the bed laughing your asses off and struggling to breathe, the stuffing from the second pillow falling around you in another cloud of fluff.

After your laughter fades out you sit up, picking pillow guts from your clothes. Anakin does the same, still chuckling.

“I went to see the Tailor today.” You brush several bits of fluff off your chest.

Anakin is focused on removing his own pillow detritus. “Oh?”

“He said he’d send word to your mother and to open any packages he sends me with caution,” you say, extracting some fluff from your chainmail.

Anakin nods, brushing off his pants. “Sounds like he’s planning to smuggle something into the palace.”

You both pause and look at each other as though the same idea has just struck both of you at the same time.

“You don’t think…” you begin.

“They’re going to send us the scanner and deprogrammer?” Anakin finishes your thought, a slow smile spreading across his face. “We could unchip every slave in the palace with those.”

The idea brings a matching grin to your face as well. “We absolutely can. We can use this to our advantage. Let her think she has us as her property while we take the entire palace out from underneath her.”

A thought crosses Anakin’s mind; a sudden stormcloud darkening the sunshine on his face. “What if they can’t send it to us?”

“You build another one,” you respond unhesitatingly. “It was your design in the first place. We keep coming down here for our supposed rendezvous and we either send Chadrum for the parts you need, or you steal them from the engineering bay. And we use our allotted time to build the device and plot our next steps.”

“It’ll never work. Even if we manage to build the devices, where will we keep them? And how could we scan every slave in this palace?” Anakin shakes his head, looking thoughtful. “But what if we found the control device and disabled it instead? Just like with a droid control ship; take out the transmitter and all the rollies fall down.” He grins. “It worked to stop the invasion on Naboo. It could work here.”

You grin back at him, excitement and hope bubbling up inside of you. “It will work,” you say. “The Force is with us.”

Chapter Text

Over the course of the next several days you establish a new routine. You wake at first dawn to be joined by the toddlers, their mother, and a handful of other whirlee who have begun practicing yoga, tai-chi, and basic kung fu poses with you. Class always ends with the twins sensing Whirlee Lorda’s arrival before anyone else does. Every morning Daesha enters the room and greets the group the same way, sending her assistants around to “beautify Gardulla’s flowers”, including you. After breakfast, Daesha takes the whirlee up to the main floor to entertain Gardulla’s guests, leaving you with Chadrum to guard the whirlee room and the children the whirlee are forced to leave behind. Even though she isn’t technically your overseer, no one ever argues with her, not when she tells them to fix your hair and makeup and not when she orders you to stay and guard the “garden.”

So you spend your days with Chadrum guarding the whirlee room, quietly conversing between yourselves about the details of Gardulla’s palace.

“Tell me more about the defenses,” you say, your eyes scanning the room. Seer’aa and Teer’aa are playing with the other whirlee children in the bedroom behind you. A handful of other small children of varying species play quietly among the beds on the far side of the room near the kitchen. A pair of guards stands beside each of the gated doors.

“The walls are impenetrable. There are guards stationed on every floor as well as barracks on every floor. Except for the top floor — that’s all Gardulla’s. Only the bodyguards and slaves she handpicks have access. The lifts are the only way to move between floors, except for some old, unused stairs within the walls. The lifts can be turned off from the control room or Gardulla’s tower. The tower has a balcony and a landing pad for a spacecraft. The ground floor is only accessible via the three fortified gates or from the landspeeder bay which has an exit tunnel beyond the outer gates. The ground floor houses a control and comms room and shield generator.”

Around midday you grab your lunch in shifts, one guard from each door grabbing some food while the other waits. Having seen the others grab two helpings, you make a habit of grabbing a second bowl and taking it inside the whirlee room and sharing it with the kids. You tried giving them both bowls once but Seer’aa and Teer’aa insisted everyone got one spoonful of gruel at a time until the bowls were emptied, so now that’s what you do. Your heart aches for the children in the common housing who aren’t being fed any lunch at all. After the third time you take your food into the whirlee room, Chadrum brings their bowls in as well, joining your impromptu feast. The children take turns telling stories during lunch, their favorite tales usually involving the Sun Dragon.

After lunch, you take your empty bowls to their station and return to your post at the door, where you continue memorizing every tactical detail Chadrum knows. Most evenings, the whirlee return by second twilight, though not always, and not always all of them. You take your evening shower along with the other girls, eventually growing accustomed to the group bathing facilities. Every night you fall asleep to the sound of the other girls breathing while you mentally collate the information you’ve collected. Part of you chafes at the confinement and the apparent hopelessness of your situation. Being confined to the whirlee quarters keeps you from checking on Anakin or his progress in making weapons for you. The rest of you channels your boredom and irritation into the long game, quietly gathering every scrap of intel you can while you wait for Valsil to summon you.

Until finally, he does. You’re standing next to Chadrum discussing the palace’s armaments when the sound of the lift warns you someone is coming. You both fall silent out of habit. A pair of red Nikto exit the lift and walk directly towards you. For a brief irrational moment, your heart hammers in your chest, worried that someone knows you’ve been plotting. Taking a deep breath, you reach for your one white stone.

“Your presence is required at the clothier’s,” one of them says to you. “Tematu will take over your post.”

One of the two newcomers trades places with you while you follow the second back to the lift. Unlike Chadrum, they don’t appear to be the talkative type, instead escorting you through the engineering bay in silence. You look for Anakin in his usual spot but he doesn’t seem to be there. I hope he’s okay, you think. Maybe they just sent him to a different area to work today. Focus, you remind yourself as you pass into the cargo area, remembering the electronics rooms to be next. You don’t know what a transmitter would look like, but you might as well keep your eyes open, just in case. According to Chadrum, the first room should be a comms and control room. Certainly, the wall-to-wall electronic panels would seem to back up that assertion. Doesn’t the transmitter almost have to be mobile, though? Everything in here looks hardwired in. I’ve got to be looking for something portable. Unfortunately, Anakin was only a toddler the last time he lived here so doesn’t know what the device looks like and Chadrum has never seen it either.

You don’t really see why there would be any reason for the transmitter to be in the shield room either, but you pay as much attention as you can - without being obvious - to the coils as you pass them, just in case it’s important to your escape plan later.

The two of you proceed out of the palace into the blinding light of the twin suns. Your escort continues to walk in silence for so long you’ve started to wonder if they dislike you.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” you finally ask out of boredom.

“No,” your escort answers.

“Are you always like this?” you ask them.

“Yes.” Another one word answer. You’re pondering what to say next when they unexpectedly continue. “Are you always like this?”

Taken aback, you look at them askance. “Like what?”

“So talkative.” They stare straight ahead with the seriousness of a soldier.

“Sometimes.” You aren’t really sure how to answer.

“Hmm.” Their tone of voice indicates obvious disapproval.

“Does it bother you?” you ask. “I can stop.”

“I don’t care.” Their face doesn’t change expression.

“Okaaay,” you say, feeling awkward for even trying. “Sorry.”

They shake their head and laugh bitterly. “You know, you can always tell the new catches from the lifers by their idiotic optimism. Let me be clear, hatchling. I don’t want to get to know you. I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh,” is all you can think to say.

“It’s not personal,” they continue. “It’s survival. And the sooner you wise up and understand that, the better off you’ll be.”

You realize your escort is speaking from a place of pain and trauma and your heart aches for them. Honoring their boundary, you stay silent for the rest of your walk.

“Lady Guard.” Valsil greets you with a polite smile as you enter the shop. “Your armor is ready for you to try it on. If it fits, I should have the filigree finished and ready for you tomorrow.” He turns to your companion and flashes a charming smile at them. “Would you be a dear and watch the front of the shop for me?”

“No.” Your escort folds their arms across their chest.

“Oh.” Valsil blinks for a moment. “Well.” He sounds as offended as he looks as he locks the front door. “Don’t touch anything.”

“I won’t.” Your escort leans against the front door. “Go do your thing, clothier.”

Valsil rolls his eyes. “Some people have no manners,” he mutters under his breath as he closes the door to his workroom. “Come, let us try on your armor.”

Tailor guides you over to his work table and lowers his voice to a whisper. “The Sun Dragon has roused the Shifting Sands. They ride when the moons are dark. Be ready.”

Valsil helps you undress and try on your new armor, tightening the laces and walking you to stand before a full-length mirror. “What do you think?”

You think you’re in love. Black leather wraps around you in an armored bodice and strip-skirt reminiscent of Xena’s armor but also entirely your own. Silver strips of chainmail mesh sit between the panels of your corset-style bodice, giving flexibility and most importantly, breathability to the garment. Pleats of the same metal coils sit between the panels of the skirt, allowing it to expand as you move while still protecting your legs. You look like a cosplayer’s dream, in materials sturdy enough to survive Pennsic. “It’s perfect,” you say. “You’ve outdone yourself, sir.”

Valsil grins at you in the mirror. “Excellent. I’ll add the filigree and have it delivered to the palace for you tomorrow.”

“I had some thoughts about the design of that,” you say with a smile. “Might I borrow your datapad?”

“Certainly,” Valsil says even though his face reads as confused as he hands you the item. 

“I know we discussed this,” you say, sketching a rough map of the palace as you know it. “But I was thinking something more like this…” you scribble as many specific notes as you can, anything that might help the Sand People and the White Suns break in. “I hope it won’t be too much trouble…”

“I don’t know, miss,” Valsil hedges, buying you time to draft more notes. “That looks awfully complicated.”

“Please?” You pretend to beg, jotting down the last things you can think of, hoping Threepio can translate it as you forgot to write in Aurebesh. You hand Valsil his datapad back.

He mock sighs, feigning annoyance. “Fine. But only because you’re so cute. Now take that off so I can get to work on your design.”

Anakin still isn’t in his workbay when you pass back through the workshop on your way to the lift and your heart sinks a little. You had hoped to tell him Tailor’s news, but it will have to wait. Instead, you ride the lift back down to the first sublevel in resignation. Your escort returns you to your post at the door where Tematu changes places with you once more; the pair of Nikto leaving to go report back to another duty.

“How’d it go?” Chadrum asks after you’ve been silent for some time.

“The armor is amazing, it’s almost ready.” You shrug. “The walk was awful; I’m pretty sure I just met the grumpiest guard in the palace.”

Chadrum laughs. “Haabin’s just like that. Her whole family was lost to Jabba in a podracing bet. Gardulla hadn’t included the unhatched in her bet so she kept Haabin and the other eggs. Haabin’s was the only egg to survive.”

“Kriff.” You shake your head, looking down at the floor to mask the wave of compassion you feel for Haabin. “No wonder she doesn’t want to make friends.”

Chadrum bobs their head in a sort of shrug. “She learned at a young age how dangerous it is to form attachments in this place.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “I can see that. Why are you willing to make friends then?”

Chadrum grins, baring their teeth in an expression conveying a threat of lethality more so than mirth. “Every act of joy is an act of rebellion. The Hutts want us to feel hopeless because it makes us easier to control.”

You nod thoughtfully, taking in their words. “That makes sense.”

“Any news from outside?” Chadrum asks, their voice barely above a whisper.

“The Sun Dragon and the Shifting Sands ride when the moons are dark. They say to be ready,” you answer just as softly.

Chadrum makes a quiet sort of hissing sound in their throat that you’ve learned to interpret as one part “yes” and one part rallying cry. “We need to find the transmitter then. Any luck?”

“No,” you sigh. “I don’t think it’s kept on any of the bottom three floors.”

“Which leaves the favorites’ floor and Gardulla’s tower,” Chadrum agrees.

“Would Gardulla keep that herself?” you muse aloud. “Seems like something she would give to a subordinate to do.”

“Then it would have to be Dinek who has it,” Chadrum says, staring at the lift. “That kung is the only one of us getting paid.”

“Dinek is free?” you keep your gaze trained on the lift out of practice.

“Yep,” Chadrum agrees. “He’s Gardulla’s majordomo. He has a room next to Gardo Lorda and Whirlee Lorda on the favorites’ floor.”

“I’d bet he has the transmitter. But how do we get to it?” You look over at the kitchen out of boredom.

“I don’t know,” Chadrum says with a quiet sigh. “We’ll just have to think of something.”

You find it difficult to sleep that night; your mind insists on wandering off onto tagents and refuses to settle. You can’t help but worry about Anakin and hope he’s okay. Then your brain reminds you you’ve used the Force two times now, one of which was to talk to Anakin mentally. You take three deep breaths and calm your mind, sinking into yourself and reaching like you did before, for the feeling of Anakin’s warmth. ‘Anakin?’

‘Indra?’ Anakin’s mental voice is faint, but still audible. 

You smile with relief. ‘Are you alright? I didn’t see you in the workshop today.’

Anakin sends the equivalent of a mental sigh. ‘Gardulla wants me to podrace for her again.’

Something about his mental tone doesn’t sound quite right. ‘And?’

‘And what?’ 

You still aren’t convinced. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

Another mental sigh. ‘She’s using you as collateral. If I win the race, you get to remain a guard.’

You notice he specifically hasn’t said what happens if you fail. As much as you appreciate him trying to shield you, you also deserve to know. It’s your fate after all. ‘And if you don’t?’

A spike of anger surges through your connection. ‘She threatened to make you a dancing girl and offer you to Sebulba as a gift.’

A wave of nausea rolls through you. ‘I guess it’s a good thing you’re an excellent pilot and a Jedi,’ you joke, trying to make you both feel better.

‘How can you joke right now?’ Anakin asks.

You’re reminded of what Chadrum said. ‘Every act of joy is an act of rebellion. Gardulla wants us to feel trapped and hopeless. So I refuse. Besides, the Force is on our side.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ Anakin sounds as though he’s beginning to lose hope.

You laugh mentally, remembering everything you’ve been through. ‘Anakin, I accidentally used the Force to jump halfway across the universe to be here. I would have told you all of this was impossible, yet here I am. Also, your mother and the Sand People are storming the castle when the moons are dark.’

‘Wait, what?’ He sounds almost excited.

You smile in response. ‘Tailor summoned me today for a fitting. He said the Sun Dragon had summoned the Shifting Sands. They ride when the moons are dark, be ready.’

The warmth of sunshine begins to fill your connection. ‘We need to figure out what phase they’re in now as well as find the transmitter,’ Anakin says. ‘I didn’t see it in Gardulla’s cantina area today.’

‘Chadrum says they think someone named Dinek probably has it. Apparently he’s Gardulla’s majordomo and has a room on the second floor with all the other favorites,’ you tell him.

‘We need someone with an excuse to be in there,’ Anakin suggests.

‘I agree, but who?’ you ask.

Chapter Text

Your next day begins as any other in Gardulla’s palace, though you can’t help but feel a small spark of excitement. You still haven’t figured out how to get someone into Dinek’s quarters but you also imagine that if the Force can transport you to the Star Wars universe then it can damn well provide you with the tools to stage a slave revolt. As today is the day your gladiator-esque armor arrives, you’re feeling confident in your ability to live your best Spartacus life. When you sit down to meditate with your roommates at the end of your morning martial arts class together, you focus on reminding yourself you are one with the Force and it is always with you, consciously and deliberately choosing to be in a receptive state. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. I intend to be guided by the Force through synchronicity, intuition, and other messages so clear I will know they can only have come from the Force. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.

A sudden shift in energy startles you and you open your eyes at the same time as the twins, utterly certain Daesha is coming.

“Daesha,” they announce, and the assembled whirlee dissipate with practiced ease, melting back into their customary places.

Whirlee Lorda sweeps into the room as always, her forced syrupy tone saccharine sweet and as false as a Sith Lord’s promises. Her assistants follow her around the room, using oil and warm cloths to remove any lingering traces of makeup before reapplying today’s warpaint. Then you all file out for breakfast before Daesha takes the whirlee upstairs to the ground floor, leaving you and Chadrum to guard the room.

“Any news?” Chadrum asks, watching you out of the corner of their eye. “You seem like you’re in a good mood today.”

You shrug. “Not really.”

“Then why are you so…” Chadrum pauses as if searching for the right word. “…bouncy today?”

“I get my armor today.” You can’t help but smile. You’ve always wanted a set of badass armor. And now you’re going to have some.

“Ahh.” Chadrum chuckles. “We should celebrate.”

“How?” You sneak a look at Chadrum before returning your attention to the far wall. “What do you do to celebrate?”

Chadrum laughs awkwardly. “That depends on your station.”

“Okay. What do guards do to celebrate?” you ask.

“Bribe the cooks for some alcohol and tell stories of our battle prowess. Have contests of skill.” Chadrum sounds almost as excited as you feel. “Sing songs in your honor.”

“Really?” You smile at the idea, feeling a pang of guilt over partying with the guards while Anakin sleeps up in the engineering bay. “I don’t know.”

Chadrum stares at you out of the corner of their eye. “Why not?”

You sigh, struggling to articulate. “I feel bad for my friend.”

Chadrum rolls their eyes. “Okay, so we kidnap him and make him party with us.”

You choke out a laugh. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Chadrum grins. “We grab him and take him down to the bottom floor for a small party. No one likes to use those rooms anyway; they’re too close to detention and the torture chambers. And right now no one’s in detention or any of the holding cells. Besides, you need to make more friends and allies than just me, you know.”

“I guess,” you admit with a half-hearted chuckle.

“Seriously. Have a few drinks with the guards you knocked out, let them remind everyone how scary you are…”

“Wait, I’m scary?” you interrupt.

Chadrum laughs. “You’re a female human who took out ten enforcers with her bare hands. Rumor has it you’re a Jedi. You’re terrifying.”

“But…” you protest. “I don’t want to be frightening.”

“Yeah, you do.” Chadrum’s tone shifts dramatically. “Guard or not, bad things happen in this place all the time. Scary people get left alone. Also, if you’re going to start a slave revolt, you need to be scary.”

“But wouldn’t it be better to inspire people?” you ask.

Chadrum shakes their head. “No offense, but we have Anakin Skywalker for that. Half the slaves already idolize him. He’s a legend to us.”

“And the other half?” You didn’t mean to say that part out loud.

“They hate him,” Chadrum replies. “Which is where you come in. The ones who hate him will still respect you.”

“But why?” You still don’t get it.

“Why do they hate him or why will they respect you?” Chadrum asks.

“Both,” you say with a half laugh.

Chadrum sighs. “They hate him for the same reason the rest of us admire him; because he was one of us. Most of us remember him as a hatchling. And then he won his freedom by doing something no human had ever done, much less a slave child. Those of us who live in hope are inspired by him because it means we could be free too. Those who live in fear hate him because they can’t do what he did and they resent him for it. As for why they’ll respect you … well … most have learned the hard way to respect anyone stronger than they are.”

“Oh.” Anything else you might have articulated is interrupted by the sound of the lift. You both stand straighter and fall silent.

The lift gate opens and a pair of green Nikto exit it, headed in your direction. One carries an unconscious woman slung over their back like a sack of laundry. The other carries a box. Despite your excitement over the box, your eyes linger on the alabaster form of the stunned woman, torn between feeling sympathy for her and the certainty that you recognize her. With effort, you manage to remain calm, keeping your face completely blank as the pair of guards approach you. One white stone. 

The guard on the left splits off from their partner, carrying the torpid woman through the doorway beside you while the other stops in front of you.

“Boss says this is yours,” they say, pushing the package into your hands and turning to walk away.

You take the box with you into the whirlee room, headed for your bunk as the other guard finishes depositing the temporarily comatose woman into the bed above yours and exits.

Stepping closer to the bed, your eyes follow the line of her lekku to her face, your heart skipping a beat as you recognize her. Dancer. Kriff. For a half a heartbeat you panic before taking a deep breath. The Force is with me, you remind yourself. This can either be a stumbling block or a stepping stone . While it’s unfortunate they’ve captured three of you, perhaps this can work out to your advantage. Although you might not be willing to ask one of the whirlee to risk herself by finding a way into Dinek’s room, Dancer — a White Sun herself — is another matter entirely.

Smiling to yourself, you set down the box, opening the lid to find your finished and filigreed armor inside, along with a matching set of bracers and greaves. You take off one of your current bracers and slide your forearm inside one of the new ones, only to feel something roughly the size and shape of a garment tag rubbing against your skin. Withdrawing your arm carefully, you angle your hand over your bed and wait, but nothing falls out. You reach your fingers inside the now-empty empty armband and feel around for the edges, gently prying loose the small, handmade envelope stuck there. You open the top of the envelope quickly to find a note handwritten in Aurebesh. 

Enough gekko druk to knock out an average-size humanoid for a whole day. Use it wisely. Love, the Sun Dragon.

Smiling, you close the envelope and tuck it inside your pillow for the moment while you change your garments. When you’re dressed again, you place the envelope inside the cups of your bodice for safekeeping.

You’re folding up your previously makeshift armor when the sound of Dancer stirring draws your attention. “Reader?”

You look up at her bunk with a smile. “Hey, Dancer.”

She looks like she’s about to cry. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

Her apology catches you off-guard. “What is?”

“It’s my fault you were captured. They were following me.” Dancer sighs. “I should have known better.”

You shake your head. “Dancer, Sebulba made Pilot when we came for the Chadra-Fans.”

“He followed me as well,” Dancer argues. “If you had met with another operative you wouldn’t have gotten caught.”

“Then they would have caught someone else. We all know the risks,” you say, quoting Cliegg. “The important thing is that Pilot and I have a plan, but we need someone else to carry it out. I think the Force brought us all here for a reason.”

Dancer’s pink eyes sparkle. “Tell me more.”

Looking around to be certain none of the kids are listening, you lean in close and lower your voice. “We think we know where the transmitter is but we need someone to confirm its exact location and help us disable it.”

“Where do you think it is?” Dancer asks in a whisper.

“In the majordomo’s room. Some guy named Dinek,” you answer. 

Dancer’s face flashes rapidly between disgust and malice. “I’m your girl.”

You give her a questioning look.

“He’s been after me for years,” she admits. “But he’s creepy so I always said no. Now that he can just order me to his room…” she smiles maliciously. “He will. And I can look for the transmitter. What does it look like?”

“We think it’s likely to be some sort of handheld device with an antenna, a screen, and buttons. Beyond that…” you frown, wishing you knew for sure. “We don’t really know.”

Dancer grins even wider. “Leave it to me. I bet I can get him to tell me where it is. Hell, knowing him, he’ll probably brag about it. What do we do once I’ve found it?”

“We haven’t worked that part out yet,” you say. “But we will.”

At lunch time, Dancer joins the food circle, adding a fifth bowl of food to the mix. The children are still a bit shy with her, but then given how Daesha treats everyone, you don’t blame them for their mistrust of strangers. You’ll never know if their nervousness is what causes the bowl to fall, only that the human child with green hair goes to hand a bowl to the child next to them and the other child misses. As you instinctively reach for the vessel before it can land on the durocrete floor and shatter, both Seer’aa and Teer’aa do as well. You feel a subtle push in the air currents around you. To your surprise, the bowl stops falling. For a moment, no one says a word. You take advantage of the silence and grab the bowl, carefully handing it to the next child in the circle. 

The teal Twi’lek child accepts it from you, her brown eyes wide. “Are you a Jedi?” she whispers.

“Yes,” you admit with what you hope is a friendly smile, your brain racing. But I’m not the one who stopped that bowl, you think. One or both of the twins did.

“Did you come to free us?” the lone human child asks.

Your heart lurches in your chest as you wonder what you should say to them. Can I trust them with the truth? “I believe that is why the Force brought me here,” you finally say. “But we must be very careful. If Dinek or Daesha or any of the Lorda find out…”

“We won’t tell anyone,” the teal child says emphatically. “We swear.”

All of the children nod their heads solemnly, each sticking a hand into the center of the circle, even setting down the food bowls to do so. Seer’aa and Teer’aa give you a look. Feeling uncertain, you place your hand in with theirs. Chadrum and Dancer do as well. 

“We the whirlee swear on the Sun Dragon to protect our Jedi and keep her secret,” Seer’aa intones dramatically.

“I swear,” Teer’aa echoes.

“I swear,” adds the child next to her. 

They continue around the circle until all seven children have sworn.

“And I, your Jedi, swear on the Force to protect the whirlee with my life,” you add. “To ensure your future and your freedom, whatever it takes.”

Still paying for your party with the other guards the night before, you sleep later than usual the following morning, finally waking to a pair of yellow eyes staring at you.

“Good morning, Lady Jedi,” Teer’aa whispers. “Are we having class today?”

You’re grateful for the quiet tone of her voice, as even that is too loud for your pounding headache. The earnestness of her plea tugs at your heartstrings; your daily instruction is likely the only formal learning experience the child has ever had. Beside her, Seer’aa stares at you intently, the look in her brown eyes a perfect match for her twin’s.

“Of course,” you say, forcing yourself to smile through the pain. You feel like you’ve been run over by a sandcrawler and left out in the suns to turn into bantha jerky. This hangover is worse than the time at DragonCon when you went to the Last Party on Alderaan and then to the diner for karaoke and more drinks afterward. Looking around you realize no one else is even awake yet. “What time is it?” you ask quietly as you climb out of your bunk.

The twins look at each other and shrug. “Dunno,” they say in unison. “We couldn’t sleep.”

Sighing, you stand and stretch, noticing the twins following your movements. Laughing quietly, you remove one of your bracers and bring it with you to the clear space in the doorway where practice happens. Fighting a wave of nausea, you carefully take a seat and the children copy you. The girls wear matching expressions of curiosity as you set your bracer down in the center of your circle.

“Remember how you caught the bowl yesterday?” You smile at both of them. “Let’s play a game with our minds. We’ll all try to grab my bracer from the center by doing what we did yesterday. Whomever gets my bracer first wins.”

Teer’aa frowns. “With our minds?”

You stare off into space, unconsciously making your thinking face as you ponder how else to explain it. Finally an idea comes to your mind and you look at the child. “Yes. Pick up the bracer without touching it.”

Seer’aa bites her lip and reaches out just as she did yesterday, squinting her eyes and staring at the bracer.

You grin and do the same, mentally reaching for the object. Teer’aa joins in as well. You don’t know how long you sit there, but nothing seems to be happening. You feel yourself start to get frustrated and then remember there are two children watching and mirroring you. Breathing through your frustration, you mentally summon your one white stone, turning it in your mind. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. I pushed those cars. I can do this.

The bracer twitches and begins to rise from the floor, jerking back and forth like a ping-pong ball. Someone stirs in their bunk and the sound startles you, the bracer falling to the floor as your concentration breaks  and you look up. Everyone is still asleep. Relieved, you look back at the children to see their faces reflecting a similar emotion judging from their smiles.

You grin at both of them. “Again?”

By the time the others do awaken for class, you’ve gotten no further, though the bracer rises more quickly now, teetering faster on its invisible axis. Unfortunately for you, your headache has tripled in intensity. Daesha comes sweeping into the room with her usual saccharine greeting and it’s all you can do not to wince at her voice. She stops and stares in your direction, causing your heart to hammer in your chest. Does she know about the party? She can’t punish me for it, can she? But Daesha stalks past you to stare at Dancer with what can best be described as contempt.

“Hmph,” she sniffs as she gives Dancer the same appraising look she gave you the first day. “A little too well-fed, if you ask me. But we can fix that.”

You bite back your surprise. Dancer’s physique has always seemed ideal to you. But then given how painfully skinny some of the whirlee are and how the children aren’t given any lunch, you suspect Daesha uses food as a form of control.

Daesha frowns as she continues to study Dancer. “But whatever can we do about this tragedy of a face? Perhaps a veil. Yes. And minimal makeup. We don’t want to waste supplies on such a hopeless situation.”

What?! Dancer is gorgeous! She’s not my type, but she could definitely be a supermodel on Earth. Why is Daesha trying to hide her face? 

Clearly done, the Whirlee Lorda turns to you. “Those circles. She looks like dried bantha echuta. Fix it.” Then she turns and stalks to the next girl. Looks like she still hates me, you think. Oh well.

Apparently Daesha hates both of you; she deliberately leaves Dancer behind in the harem, despite the veil, which Dancer removes the moment the lift is out of sight. You exit the room for your post outside the door and Dancer grabs the spot of wall behind yours, leaning up against it so she can talk to you through the curtain.

“Now what?” Dancer asks. “How do I get into Dinek’s room if she leaves me stuck in the harem all day?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, wracking your already-sore brain for ideas. 

Chadrum makes a humming sound in the back of their throat, the Nikto equivalent to a thoughtful “hmmm.” After several moments of contemplative silence they speak. “There is one way, but it’s risky.”

“What is it?” Dancer asks from behind the curtain.

Chadrum stares across the room like they do every day, showing no indication of any ill effects from last night’s merrymaking event. “If the two of you were to get into a fight, you would take the argument to the Gardo Lorda. He likes to eat his breakfast leisurely and usually goes down to the main floor almost a full mark later than the whirlee. Dinek should also still be in his room. If you made a loud enough fuss in the favorites’ atrium, he’d probably come out to check. Or if Gardo Lorda and Whirlee Lorda disagreed, he’d have the final say. But you could both be whipped for it.”

“What would we fight about?” You frown, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger.

Dancer laughs. “Don’t worry, I know what to do. Just play along.”

Without another warning, Dancer stalks out of the whirlee room, flinging the curtain behind her in disgust. She turns to Chadrum, pointing a finger in their chest. “You, guard. Who’s in charge here?”

“The Gardo Lorda,” Chadrum answers.

Across the room, Miodel and Gonga turn to stare.

“I demand to speak to him,” Dancer insists. “I refuse to spend another night next to this stinking guard. She should be housed with the other guards.” She points a white finger in your direction.

Her little scene has now drawn Kloishak and Groos’s attention as well.

Dancer stomps her foot, raising her voice to a level that makes you want to scream. “Now. I demand to see the Gardo Lorda now!”

Wincing, you turn to her and glare. “Look whirlee, I took a shower last night just like I do every night. I don’t know what your problem is.”

“You see how she talks to me?” Dancer sticks her nose in the air. “I am a rare and skilled dancer. She is just a common guard. Surely I’m worth more to Gardulla than this ugly human.”

Chadrum shakes their head. “Calm down, whirlee. It’s too early for so much shouting.”

Everyone is staring in your direction now, even the other children and the cook.

“Calm down? Calm down?!” Dancer winks at you. “I will NOT calm down until I speak to the Gardo Lorda.”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes and shake your head. “Let’s go, whirlee.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you .” Dancer tosses her lekku over her shoulder. “ You’re not even a real guard.”

Across the room, Miodel stretches and compresses her hand a few times, quietly cracking her knuckles in anticipation of a fight.

Smiling your best sinister smile, you raise your voice. “I’m a real enough guard to punish you for insurrection, whirlee. You can either come with me or face the whip.”

Chadrum places their hand on the whip handle at their waist in a nonverbal display of support for your threat.

“Fine.” Dancer turns to stalk off and then stops as if she doesn’t know the way. “Let’s go.”

Rolling your eyes, you escort her to the lift. Miodel and Gonga nod as you approach the lift. You nod back. They open the gate and you step inside with Dancer, pressing the button for the second floor. The lift rises two levels and stops.

You guide Dancer out of the lift, already assessing the room. A handful of guards you know are seated at the tables still eating their breakfast, including Lu, Rentubi, and Baxt. Baxt nods his head in greeting as you pass, looking questioningly at you. You tilt your head towards Dancer and roll your eyes. Baxt laughs.

“I hope this boss of yours isn’t as smelly as you are,” Dancer is complaining as you cross the room, her voice growing louder and louder. “Please tell me he’s a real guard.”

Rentubi glares at Dancer’s back. 

“I don’t see why you’re sleeping in the whirlee room anyway, it’s completely inappropriate,” Dancer protests. “This would never have happened in Jabba’s palace.”

You swear you can feel every pair of eyes in the room watching you now. “Excuse me?” You stop walking a few strides from the doors and turn to look at Dancer, your voice full of fake indignation. “Perhaps the Gardo Lordo will do us all a favor and take your tongue out, whirlee.”

Dancer places both hands on her hips, nearly yelling at you, her face turning pink with manufactured rage. “You heard me, gardo. Jabba knows how to treat his whirlee. Unlike you lot, who think I should be forced to sleep next to a common guard.”

You hear the sound of doors opening, but don’t dare to look. You can only hope one of them belongs to Dinek. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me, you remind yourself. “Mind your manners, whirlee,” you hiss. “Before I mind them for you and remove your tongue.”

“What is the problem?” Boss Guard asks from behind you.

You pivot on your heel, turning to face him. “This whirlee is out of her mind, Gardo Lorda. She acts like she thinks she’s some kind of princess.”

Gardo Lorda nods. “And where is Whirlee Lorda?”

“With the rest of the whirlee in the cantina,” you answer.

Gardo Lorda compresses his already thin lips until they disappear completely. “I see.”

“Are you the Gardo Lorda?” she asks, batting her eyelashes at him as though it will have any effect.

“I am.” Boss Guard stares at her.

“Why is she ,” Dancer points at you. “Sleeping in our room. Why doesn’t she sleep with the rest of your lazy guards?”

Gardo Lorda is in the middle of opening his mouth to answer when another door opens. An elegantly dressed green Twi’lek stands in the doorway. 

His golden-brown eyes widen as he sees Dancer, a smirk forming on his lips. “What have we here?”

Everyone around you freezes and bows. Not wanting to stick out, you follow their lead.

“A simple disagreement between a whirlee and a gardo,” Gardo Lorda answers him, head still bowed respectfully. “It does not require your attention, Lorda. We apologize for disturbing you.”

A familiar prickling on the back of your neck warns you of Daesha’s arrival seconds before the liftgate opens. Sneaking a look out of the corner of your eye, you witness the look of pure rage that crosses her face as her eyes land on Dancer and Dinek. She immediately begins stalking across the room, her expression muderous. Everyone stays perfectly still as though they have been frozen in place. Daesha stomps up to Dancer, her hand raised as if to slap the other woman. 

Dinek interposes himself between the two, his oil-slick smile a match for Daesha’s saccharine sweetness.

Undeterred, Daesha persists in reaching for Dancer. “My apologies, my Lord, this new girl is nothing but trouble. I will take her to be punished.”

Dinek continues smiling at her. “Clearly she requires a stronger hand than yours.” He turns his gaze on Dancer, something in his smile filling you with unease. “You will attend me, whirlee.” Still grinning like the Cheshire cat, he grabs Dancer’s hand and whisks her into the center room.

Chilled by the look on his face, you can only hope Dancer knows what she’s doing. 

Daesha, still fuming, casts her eyes around the room as if looking for someone to blame. As they land on you, a sinister smile begins to spread across her face. “You…” she growls.

Gardo Lorda takes a single step forward, his hand on the hilt of his ax. Around the room, all the Nikto reach for their weapons simultaneously.

Daesha swallows.

Gardo Lorda continues to stare at her. “Do you have a problem with a member of my guard?”

“This cheeka ,” Daesha spits the word as though the taste of it disgusts her, “is nothing but trouble.”

“Is she?” Gardo Lorda asks calmly. “Then she should be punished. Tell me what she has done.”

Daesha sputters, staring at you. “She demanded special treatment, she is wearing unapproved armor, and now she is starting fights with the whirlee.”

Gardo Lorda looks unimpressed. “She requested to be treated with the respect due any warrior, which she earned by right of combat when she single-handedly took down ten of my guards.”

“But her armor…” Daesha protests.

Gardo Lorda tilts his head. “She requested your oversight. You were supposed to go with her and approve the design. Either you failed to fulfill your duty by not following orders or you are failing in your duties now by pretending you did not approve the designs. Which is it?”

Daesha sputters. “But the fight…”

Gardo Lorda stares her down. “Was caused by your mismanagement of the whirlee, Lady Daesha. This guard has done no wrong. Even if she had, it is my place to punish her, not yours. You may not touch her. Take your anger elsewhere, or I shall inform Dinek of your failures.”

Daesha narrows her eyes and scowls at him before turning and stomping away without another word.

“Be careful with that one,” Gardo Lorda informs you in a quiet voice. “I will protect you as much as I can, but do not allow yourself to be alone with her.”

Chapter Text

You don’t see Dancer again until dinnertime, when she returns to the whirlee room with her bowl of gruel to eat alone. Having already finished your dinner, you follow her.

“Are you alright?” you ask her.

Dancer continues eating. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” She pauses, lowering her voice. “He showed me the transmitter.”

“That quickly? Cocky bastard,” you comment in an equally quiet tone, unable to understand how he could be so careless.

Dancer shrugs. “He’s the right hand man of one of the biggest Hutt crime lords and he knows it. As long as Gardulla’s alive, he’s invincible.”

“Not as invincible as he thinks,” you comment quietly. “I have a surprise for him. What does the transmitter look like?”

“Just like you said. It’s a handheld device, sort of a dull metal color with a black screen and an antenna. There’s a dial on the side and five buttons under the screen. He keeps it on his desk.” Dancer finishes her meal and looks up at you. “Now what do we do?”

“I meet with Pilot and ask him how we disable it,” you say.

“What if he can’t?” Dancer asks. “Disable it, I mean.”

You smile and shake your head. “Pilot built a protocol droid from junk as a little kid. He can disable a simple transmitter.”

“Yes, but right now he can’t go up there. Only I can. How do we get around that?” Dancer raises an eyebrow.

“We either find a way for him to go up there or for me to do so.” You smile, hoping to be reassuring.

Dancer doesn’t seem to be buying it. “What good would it do to get you up there? Are you a secret tech wizard too?”

“Not exactly,” you admit, extending your hand towards her pillow. After a moment, it rises from the bed.

Dancer’s eyes widen. “Are you some kind of Jedi?”

“Yes.” You release your hold on the pillow, allowing it to drop. “Pilot is as well. If he can walk me through it, I can damage the transmitter without ever touching it.”

Dancer nods thoughtfully. “That could work. But how do we get you up there?”

You bite your lip in thought. “I haven’t figured that part out yet. But I will.”

Your opportunity arrives sooner than you expected when Daesha stalks into the whirlee garden, a sour look on her face. Her first act is to stomp over to Dancer and slap her so hard her head rocks to the side. When she recovers, you see her lip has split open, blood beginning to drip from the corner.

“You. Will. Never. Disobey. Me. Again.” Daesha punctuates her sentence with finger jabs. “The next time you leave this room, except to eat, will be the last time you walk. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Whirlee Lorda,” Dancer answers meekly.

Every whirlee stands silent and frozen, each staring at the floor. Except you, which turns out to be a mistake.

Daesha raises her hand to slap you but you catch her wrist in your hand instead. “I am not yours to punish, Whirlee Lorda. You may not touch me.” You raise your voice just loud enough for Chadrum to hear you.

Without fail, a scaled green hand pulls back the curtain. “Is there a problem, Whirlee Lorda?”

Daesha looks as if she wants to bite your head off. Instead, she turns on her heel. “Indeed there is and I intend to speak to your Lorda about it. Bring the human cheeka with us.”

Daesha stomps to the liftgate with you and Chadrum in tow. Miodel and Gonga both give you questioning looks as they open the gate for you. You shrug, glaring at Daesha’s back. Miodel laughs silently.

Daesha stalks across the second floor dining atrium and you follow in a repeat of yesterday’s drama. As you pass by you see several of your new guard friends still eating their breakfast.

The Whirlee Lorda presses a button next to Guard Boss’s door. 

“Haku da naga?” Gardo Lorda asks from within. 

“Tah kaae schutta see mee dayan bai doth bargon cay, Tsy.” Daesha is practically yelling at this point.

Gardo Lorda’s door opens and he walks out, looming, entirely unimpressed. “Daesha.” He glares at the Whirlee Lorda for a moment before looking at you. “Lady Guard. What happened?”

“This schutta dared to touch me! I demand you remove her hand!” Daesha continues yelling.

You can feel the eyes of everyone in the room on your back.

“Is this true?” Gardo Lorda asks.

“She tried to hit me,” you answer, looking him in the eyes. “I blocked.”

“Is this true?” Gardo Lorda looks at Daesha. “Did you try to hit her?”

Daesha sputters. “She…”

A prickling on your spine accompanies the sound of footsteps behind you. “You again.” 

You turn to see Dinek behind you, breakfast bowl in hand. 

“What is it this time?” he asks.

Tell him, a quiet voice not your own whispers. 

You immediately bow your head in a show of respect. “I don’t know, Lord Dinek. Whirlee Lorda came in the room this morning and attacked the new girl who bunks above me. Then she turned and attacked me. I think perhaps she has gone mad.”

“Is that what happened?” Dinek asks.

“Yes, Lorda,” Chadrum answers. “Whirlee Lorda entered the whirlee room and immediately began yelling at someone before she struck them. Then I heard another blow followed by the cheeka gardo telling her she was not allowed to touch her.”

“I see. Go retrieve the new girl and bring her to my quarters. Daesha, you may wait for me in yours. And you, gardo cheeka, will come with me.” Dinek walks past you towards his room, clearly expecting you to follow. So you do.

The door closes behind you as Dinek sits at his desk, the device Dancer described in plain sight. While you wait, Dinek proceeds to eat his breakfast, staring at you in a way that makes you grateful for your armor and Anakin’s insistence upon your status as a guard. After what feels like forever but is really only enough time for Dinek to eat most of his food, the door chimes.

“Enter,” he commands.

Chadrum escorts Dancer inside.

Dancer looks like a crying, bloody mess. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Dinek smiles at her, looking pleased with himself. “My poor Tela, what happened?”

Dancer — whose name is apparently Tela — continues crying. “That crazy woman came into the room this morning and started yelling and hitting me. Then she hit the guard who sleeps below me. You have to save me from her, my Lord.” Dancer looks up at him with wide eyes. “She’s going to kill me if you don’t.”

Dinek smiles at her before looking at you. “You will guard her night and day and attend to her needs. You will make sure she is dressed and made up and brought to my room each morning and back to the whirlee room to sleep each night.”

“Yes, Lorda.” You purse your lips, pretending to still dislike her.

Dinek sighs. “Name your reward.”

“One hour with my … friend,” you say, unable to bring yourself to call Anakin anything else.

Dinek’s smile shifts to something even more predatory that sends chills down your spine. “Ah, yes. The podracer. Take Tela to the medic, to get food, and to fix her face. Then bring her back to me. Afterwards you may go collect your boy for one hour. No more.”

“Yes, Lorda. Thank you.” You dip your head in a bow.

“You are all dismissed.” Dinek goes back to eating his breakfast.

After visiting the medic and eating breakfast, you take Dancer to what you’ve come to think of as the basement supply room. 

“We need makeup,” you say to the old woman, perfectly aware how vague your request is.

She stares at you both and frowns.

Dancer shakes her head and laughs. “ I require makeup. May I see what you have?”

“Yes.” The old woman smiles with obvious relief, turning to lead the way.

Dancer follows the old woman deeper into the storage room, leaving you unsupervised. Looking around, your eyes are drawn to a specific container on a specific shelf and you feel strongly compelled to investigate it. Walking over, you take the box down off the shelf to find it full of various magnets, all stuck together in a haphazard mass. On the top of the pile sit four circular magnets which catch your eye. What if you added a magnetic component? Anakin’s words float through your mind. Hearing the sound of footsteps, you hurriedly grab all of the metal circles and separate them from the other magnets and replace the box. Thinking quickly, you slap the stolen magnets to your bodice torso, where they snap into place between lines of metal filigree, disappearing into the design. Feigning boredom despite your racing heart, you swiftly and silently lean up against the shelving near where you came in.

“Bored already?” Dancer pretends to sigh, winking when she sees you.

“Are you done yet, whirlee?” You stand up and glare at her.

“I have what I need. You may escort me to my room.” Dancer sashays to the door and it's all you can do to keep from laughing at her feigned arrogance.

She continues her act all the way into the whirlee fresher where she stops and turns to look at you with a grin. “I got the makeup. Looks like you grabbed something too.”

“I did.” You smile back at her and Vanna White hand-wave at the magnets. “Pilot used magnets to disable the trackers; maybe we can use them on the transmitter as well.”

“Wizard.” Dancer’s grin widens. “How are we going to get it away from him though?”

Reaching into your bodice, you carefully remove the envelope and hand it to her.

Dancer opens the small container. Her eyes scan the item and she closes it carefully, her smile morphing from playful to predatory in an instant. “When do you want me to dose him?”

“Tailor said Sun Dragon and her allies were coming to raid the palace during the dark of the moon. It would probably be best to act that night so no one has an opportunity to realize we’ve disabled it until it’s too late.”

Dancer places the envelope into her decorative headpiece, carefully checking herself in the mirror and moving experimentally to be certain the container is secure. “So… five days from now.” She reaches into the makeup box and pulls out what appears to be a piece of charcoal. “The evening of the podrace.”

Swallowing, you push away the anxiety pooling in the pit of your stomach. “I guess so.”

Using the charcoal to line her eyes, Dancer looks at you in the mirror. “He’s gonna win.”

How does she know? you think with a frown.

“Dinek bragged about it the first time. He said you might not be a guard for long.” She smiles sympathetically at you as she finishes applying her kohl. “But that isn’t going to happen. You’re going to escort me to his room. I’m going to drug him and then you are going to come get me to take me back to the whirlee room. You’ll disable the transmitter. Everything will be fine.”

You can’t help but smile at her attempts to reassure you.

“And until then, let’s make you up for your hour with Pilot.” Dancer grins, looking pleased with herself.

“Oh, that’s just our cover,” you laugh. “So we can plan.”

“If you say so.” Dancer sounds unconvinced. “Either way, we should put some makeup on you so everyone continues believing it, yes?”

She has a point. “Alright,” you agree with a shrug.

Anakin grins and then gives you an odd look as he enters the room. He waits until the door shuts and he locks it before saying anything. “Did you do something different to your armor?”

Grinning, you attempt to remove one of the circles and find it is now permanently lodged to your bracer, or at least feels that way.

Anakin’s eyes widen appreciatively. “How many of those did you steal?”

“Four.” You continue tugging at the disk.

“What made you think of that?” he asks. 

“You. You said magnets could short out the tracking chips so I thought maybe you could teach me how to disable the transmitter with four of them?” You look at him expectantly. Please say this can work. 

“Wow.” Anakin laughs. “Yeah, I’d hope so. Those are used in podracing engines to help lift the racers off the ground.”

“Oh.” You pause, hoping that’s a good thing. “You don’t need them for the race, do you?”

“No.” Anakin laughs. “I already have what I need. Speaking of, I made you some things.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out three items, holding two of them up for you. They appear to be two sharpened rods with decorative ends; emei piercers. “Hairsticks, but they’re long enough to use as melee weapons or throwing knives.”

Anakin hands the hairsticks to you and you carefully position each of them into your updo. “And a fan.” Anakin snaps the fan open with a flick of his wrist. At first glance, it appears to be a simple metal fan, but given the way the light glints off the edges, you aren’t so sure. “The tips are sharp enough to slice into someone and the blades are strong enough to block an ax or a sword and allow you to disarm your opponent. Just in case,” he says as he hands you the weapon.

“Anakin, it will be fine.” You smile at him in an echo of the way Dancer reassured you. “You’re going to win.”

“What if I don’t?” You swear you can feel his fear.

“You will,” you tell him. “You’re an adult now, and you’ve trained as Jedi. Use the Force and do whatever it takes to win.”

“Are you sure?” Anakin’s voice is small. 

“I’m so sure.”

“But what if?” Anakin looks at the floor.

“Then I’ll use the weapons you gave me to kill Sebulba,” you reassure him. “I gave the poison your mother sent to Dancer so she could use it on Dinek that night. We’ll disable the transmitter and then the rescue crew will arrive.”

Anakin smiles and shakes his head. “I guess I better teach you how to break a transmitter then. So, most electronics have a circuit board inside of them.” Anakin projects a mental picture of a circuit board into your mind. “And these are the coils. If you can run enough electromagnetic current through them, you can fry them.”

“But the magnets are stuck,” you say. 

Anakin laughs and raises his hand, using the Force to pry one free from its grip on the metal detailing of your armor. “That’s what happens when you play with extra-strong magnets,” he teases before handing the magnet back to you.

“Okay, but how do I get electromagnetic current through the coils?” You replace the magnet on your bodice.

“Connect them to a power source and then touch them to the coils,” Anakin suggests. “That oughta do the trick.”

“So I’ll need to open up the transmitter,” you say, frowning.

“If I see you again before the night of the attack, I’ll bring you some tools. Maybe you can hide those in your hair too,” he jokes.

“And if you don’t, I’ll have to use the Force,” you suggest.

“Exactly,” Anakin agrees. “Now this is what the power source will most likely look like…” He shows you another mental image of an electronic component. 

Anakin continues pouring your mind full of electronic diagrams for the better part of an hour until your instincts remind you your time is almost up.

You look around, realizing the room looks spotless. Still mentally connected to you, Anakin grins and takes a running leap onto the bed, bouncing on it several times. 

You join him for a couple of jumps before bouncing back off and surveying your work. “Better.”

Anakin frowns for a moment and reaches for your face before he suddenly hesitates and you realize you can’t feel his presence in your mind anymore. “Uh, your lipstick,” he says, blushing.

“Here, let me.” You swipe your thumb across your lips and then his, smearing some across his cheek for good measure.

Anakin remains perfectly still for this procedure, as though he is frozen in place. He swallows and then grins awkwardly. “How do I look?”

“Perfect.” You can’t help but laugh.

Anakin grins mischievously, reaching out to tussle the top of your head.

“Ow,” you say, ducking away. “What was that for?”

Anakin raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “You really don’t know, do you? You still looked too neat. Now you look … messier.” 

You pull some hairs free. “Is this better?”

Anakin studies you for a moment and then laughs. “If you want to make it more believable, pinch a spot on your neck until it really hurts.”

“What?” You give him a look. “Why?”

Anakin’s blushing intensifies. “I’ll tell you later, someday after we get out of here.”

Chapter Text

The next morning finds you rising at your usual time to train with Seer’aa and Teer’aa until the others awaken for your martial arts session. Your class ends, as usual, with an announcement from the twins about Deasha’s arrival. After rushing to your bunks, you all stand there, anxiously waiting for her. Unlike every previous morning, however, Daesha does not enter the birdcage with a fake cheerful greeting. Instead, she enters stiffly and quietly, makeup caked around both eyes and a scarf around her throat. She does not sashay or glide, but walks as though every step is agony. She limps past both you and Dancer wordlessly, pointing her people at the ones she wants made up.

After she has led the whirlee from the room in the same silence she entered with, you and Dancer exchange a look on your way into the fresher so she can apply her makeup.

“I almost feel bad for her,” Dancer comments quietly, removing her kohl from the box.

“I almost do as well,” you admit. “Though part of me feels like it’s fair after seeing how she treated you, not to mention how she starves the children and how scared they are of her.”

Dancer sighs. “I hate I can’t share my lunch with them any longer.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “I would too. Don’t worry, it’s not for too much longer.”

“Speaking of,” Dancer says as she finishes applying her kohl. “How is the plan going?”

“Brilliantly.” You smile at her, pulling the lipstick tin from its place in the larger box and slowly unscrewing the lid with the Force. “Pilot taught me how to disable the transmitter.” You choose not to tell her he’s given you a crash course in circuit boards and you’re expected to extrapolate the information in the heat of the moment.

“Wizard,” Dancer says, eyes widening appreciatively at your control. “Only four more days. We can do this.”

“Yes,” you agree. “We absolutely can.”

Over the course of the next three days, you spend as much time as possible practicing your ability to move objects with the Force. When you wake up early to teach the twins, you practice with them, each of you struggling for control over your bracer, ultimately causing the item to spin. When you escort Dancer into the fresher for her morning makeup, you practice handing her items with the Force, which never fails to make her smile. When you ride the lift back down from the favorites’ floor, you practice pulling one of your magnets off your bodice and replacing it. When you go to the fresher, you practice rotating the magnets in place while pulling them off slowly as if they are screws. At lunch, you practice stacking the bowls with the Force and the children cheer you on. Each time, you can feel the subtle reinforcement of the twins helping you, although they pretend to just be watching. Every moment of your day, whether you are alone or with trusted allies, becomes an opportunity to practice. By the time the fifth day dawns, you’re confident you can do what is required.

You spend your morning following your usual routine until it's time to head to the Grand Arena for the race. Gardulla and her bodyguards ride in one landspeeder. You ride with Dinek, Dancer, and three guards in another. Even more guards follow in a third vehicle. Once your convoy arrives at the arena, all of you proceed into Jabba’s box. Even without speaking Huttese, you notice that the tension between the two crimelords is so thick, it could be cut with a vibroblade. The nerves you’ve been repressing since waking this morning keep rearing their ugly heads feel like an endless game of whack-a-mole. Every time they reappear, you squash them with a reminder to yourself that the same Force which brought you to the Star Wars universe is still with you.

I am one with the Force and the Force is with me, you think. 

“Toogi! Toogi,” a familiar voice calls out in Huttese. “Jee doth Fode.”

“And I am Beed. Welcome to the Mos Espa Grand Arena!”

Their voices take you back to the first time you saw The Phantom Menace in theaters. Part of you wishes you still were watching this from the safety of a theater seat where you could be reassured of Anakin’s predestined win. Living through the movies isn’t exactly as much fun as you’d always imagined it would be. Belatedly, your brain realizes the announcers are still talking.

“Da granee champio du Pixelito, Sebulba!” Fode announces Sebulba.

“I see Occo Ninebar from Neelabi,” Beed says. 

“An Shrivel Braittrand doowa newpa Kulless Squall,” Fode responds. 

“Next to him is Aldar Beedo, who hasn’t ever won a race but always manages to finish in the top three; a respectable feat,” Beed adds.

“Bimhee bapionh dotkot wahca champio Teemto Pagalies doi Moonus Mandel,” Fode continues.

At this point the names are starting to sound familiar to you. You smile to yourself, not certain how appropriate laughter would be at this point. Of course it’s these racers. I bet Clegg Holdfast is next.

“Beside him is medal-winning Clegg Holdfast and his Voltec KT9 Wasp,” Beed says.

“An Gasgano doowa newpa eh cuedaneseke Ord Petrovia,” Fode adds.

“In the back row, Mawhonic has returned, once again racing his GPE-3130,” Beed reports.

“Bapionh dotkot Knire Dark, Douotka Koutecmue chawaheke du uen Serabyss Howler,” Fode says.

“I see Kraid Nemmesso, track favorite of the Ruins of Carnuss Gorgull in his Vesper Dux,” Beed calls out.

“Neyoha bacaka Wan Sandage dotkot maee che andoba doh!” Fode’s derision is obvious even without knowing what he just said. “Wohot tahboua vee spastika kushunkoo?”

“Looks like Mars Guo is back again this year,” Beed says. “This marks his second Boonta Eve Classic since returning from ‘retirement’.”

“Bapionh du bu lineup dotkot ‘Scorch’ Zanales, Locahhaon Wahkepox'achawaheke,” Fode announces.

“Next in the back row is Tzidik Wrantojo, favorite of the Ryloth Nightlands course,” Beed adds. “Wrantojo is best known for his speed records on Sullust’s Serres Sarrano course.”

“An bata maee, fa baa bu cakanle Dud Bolt cay da inkabunga racakochen, bu Vulptereen kwamon goba!” Apparently Fode thinks something or someone is incredible. 

“And in a surprise entry, we have one-time champion Anakin Skywalker,” Beed says.

“Uba gee bai kehau peee goo doth an wonkee goo doth douaph bai moova mee wata bai raca yabee.” Fode responds in Huttese. 

Unfortunately, the other drawback — besides a dearth of detachment — to living through the movies instead of watching them is the lack of subtitles for the Huttese.

“That’s absolutely right,” Beed agrees. “Unlike Skywalker, all the other contestants have been active in the sport and are familiar with this course.”

“An la gee neu bu uonza Jabba gee woy. Goo caiot tee bla vehpobaee heee,” Fode comments.

“Another excellent point,” Beed says. “Let’s hope he’s a quick learner. If he’s expecting the course to look like it did ten years ago, he’s in trouble.”

You swallow, hoping Anakin has heard the announcers and is planning accordingly.

“I see the flags are moving out onto the track,” Beed continues.

“La yama beestoo!” Fode announces.

On the viewscreen, you see a line of flag-bearers enter the concourse.

A series of horns call out.

“O grandio lust Jabba du Hutt,” Fode declares.

Jabba glides forward through the arched opening of his box. 

More fanfare follows this. 

The crowd erupts into cheers and ululation as Jabba beckons towards himself, encouraging their praise. “Chowbaso!” Jabba yells. “Tam ka chee Boonta rulee ya, kee madda hodrudda du wundee!”

“Ya pawa culka doe rundee!” Fode’s excitement is palpable even without knowing what he said.

“Hey, it looks like they’re clearing the grid!” Beed’s enthusiasm is as well. “Start your engines.”

Jabba spits something at the gong — probably the head of an animal — and the racers blast off from the starting line.

“An dare ovv!” Fode’s words sound enough like Basic you actually think you know what he said this time. 

“And Skywalker is already jockeying for first place but Holdfast isn’t having any of it!” Beed narrates.

Holdfast rams Anakin’s podracer, causing it to spark. You bite your lip in concern as Anakin swerves and recovers, narrowly missing a rock.

“Ooo, da doth basnit saa jot wa kohpa!” Fode narrates.

You remind yourself to breathe as you continue to watch the large viewscreen in Jabba’s box.

“Ohoho,” Jabba laughs. “Bunna shag hatkocanh chateua, Gardulla.”

Gardulla glares back at him. “Kee doth tanea um ba kantiukace checee, Jabba.”

“And here comes Sebulba, fighting his way into the lead position as the first of the racers enter Waldo Grade. Wait, what’s this? Mahonic is trying to overtake him…”

A sudden explosion causes one of the screens to go white. Please be okay, Anakin. Please be okay, you think. The feed switches to another camera and you can see three podracers, Sebulba’s, a second vehicle, and then Anakin’s.

“Oooo, better call the medics,” Beed finishes. “I don’t think Mahonic is going to walk away from that one.”

On the viewscreen, Anakin slingshots around a curve in the canyon, rolling side over side as he overtakes the podracer ahead of him, putting him second only to Sebulba. Gardulla laughs and says something you can’t hear over Fode’s announcer voice.

“Wata nan Skywalker yatuka bimhee don dopa'ta lumpa!”

“Looks like he’s coming for Sebulba. With a rivalry like theirs, this race is bound to be intense,” Beed agrees. 

The camera view shifts to the canyon mouth where Sebulba’s racer comes rocketing out, followed by Anakin and a third racer. As soon as the third racer clears the canyon they accelerate, flying across the Mushroom Mesa, rapidly gaining on Anakin and Sebulba. They shoot past Anakin and then Sebulba, taking the lead.

“An Beedo paknee ata bu panbipa!” Fode announces. 

“Did you see that?!” Beed shouts. “Beedo has just flown past Sebulba and Skywalker! This is anyone’s race!”

Predictably, Sebulba pushes his podracer to gain on Beedo. As Sebulba approaches the rear of Beedo’s engines, he suddenly jerks his pod to the right, slamming into the left engine. Beedo attempts to gain control, but - like an expertly aimed pool ball - the angle of the blow and the momentum of his vehicle combine in deadly precision to propel him into one of the rock formations where his racer explodes on impact. 

“Jee cha chahsa haku boneiaht uba doth doi, da doth basnit saa kouikei!” Fode comments, amusement evident in his tone.

“Someone call the fire crew!” Beed adds. “We’re not even halfway through the first lap and there’s already been two explosions! This is shaping up to be the most exciting Boonta Eve Classic we’ve ever seen!”

Sebulba shoots off the edge of the mesa and down into the Crater Valley below, banging his podracer on the ground slightly. Anakin accelerates over the edge, flying over and past Sebulba to land in first place.

Yes! you think. Go Anakin!

“An Skywalker paknee atu bu panbipa!” Fode announces.

“Seems like Skywalker is up to his old antics,” Beed comments. “He’s the kid who flew off of a service ramp and remained in control. This is exactly the sort of flying you expect from him. Sebulba might actually be in trouble.”

Gardulla turns to Jabba and smirks. “Hahahahaha. Kee hatkocanh wamma mi!”

Jabba snarls at her in return. “Bu raca doth tee bimay hocan.”

On the viewscreen, Anakin and Sebulba are reaching the end of the canyon and approaching yet another narrow ravine entrance. Anakin is still in the lead.

You got this, Anakin. I believe in you.

“Skywalker dotkot don koo, Sebulba dotkot don sie peee bu moletka chapteceha bu Cepei!” Fode announces.

“I wouldn’t want to be Skywalker right now,” Beed says. “The Notch is tight enough, but to have Sebulba on your tail as you race through Beggar’s Canyon?”

“Azalus.” Fode’s response is a single word.

You watch as Anakin enters the narrow canyon opening smoothly, as if he has the course memorized, zipping into Beggar’s Canyon with ease. Behind him, Sebulba accelerates. The two racers twist and turn through the canyon’s serpentine curves. Sebulba is slowly gaining on Anakin.

Come on, Anakin, you can do this, you think, clenching your hands into fists. 

“The lead racers are approaching the Needle with Skywalker still in first but Sebulba is closing the gap,” Beed narrates for those who don’t have viewscreens.

“Skywalker cheespa bo coopa!” Fode says.

Anakin skillfully slides his podracer between the rock spire and the canyon walls, slowing as he enters the turn and then accelerates halfway into it. Sebulba guns it, shooting straight towards Anakin as he enters the turn. Anakin increases his speed suddenly, zooming away from Sebulba just in time. Sebulba banks quickly, narrowly avoiding the canyon walls.

You exhale, reminding yourself to breathe. Come on, Anakin. You got this, you cheer mentally. 

“Hahahahaha,” Gardulla laughs, but her words are drowned out by the announcers.

“Did you see that?” Beed asks. “Skywalker narrowly escaped a ramming attempt by Sebulba! These guys aren’t playing around!”

“Sebulba gahke gee wa besnewa bkhaa yabee!” Fode replies.

“The lead racers have passed Diablo Cut and are headed into Dead Man’s Turn,” Beed continues.

You watch as Anakin continues navigating the perilous curves of the canyon, Sebulba close on his tail. Sebulba suddenly accelerates, ramming Anakin’s podracer from behind. Anakin fights for control of his craft. Sebulba shoots past Anakin, shoving his podracer into the canyon walls. You imagine you can hear the sound of metal scraping on rock.

It’s okay, you can still beat him, you think, refusing to acknowledge any other possible outcomes.

“Ooo, da doth basnit saa jot wa kohpa!” Fode says.

“And Sebulba aggressively takes the lead from Skywalker!” Beed announces. “These two just won’t give up!”

“Ohohoho,” Jabba laughs at Gardulla, biting the head off of what looks like a frog.

Gardulla glares back.

Gritting your teeth, you stare at the viewscreen, reminding yourself to breathe.

Sebulba zooms past the last curve of Beggar’s Canyon and exits onto the desert plain, Anakin following closely behind him. Two more podracers are gaining on them.

“Wata nan Zanales, du duba'ta lumpa, roachee cay Dark!” Fode announces.

“The racers are approaching Arch Canyon, Sebulba in the lead, followed closely by Skywalker, Zanales, and Dark. This truly is anyone’s race!” Beed says. 

Sebulba finishes crossing the plain and begins weaving his way through the rock structures of Arch Canyon. Unlike Sebulba, Zanales, and Dark — who all slow down to safely navigate through the perilous canyon — Anakin shows no signs of decelerating; choosing prescience over caution. Reminding yourself to breathe yet again, you have to admire his skill. Even though you know he’s using the Force, he’s still more impressive than you realized. Obstacle by obstacle, Anakin gains on Sebulba, finally overtaking him halfway through the canyon.

Yes! You scream and cheer mentally. Go Anakin!

“Skywalker paknee ata bu panbipa!” Fode announces.

“This guy is crazy!” Beed comments. “It takes guts and skill to make it through Arch Canyon. You have to wonder how he does it!”

You watch as Anakin pilots skillfully through the last of the archways and into another narrow canyon.

“Bu moletka doth doneha bu Nes, cay Skywalker du bu panbipa, roachee cay Sebulba,” Fode narrates.

“The Whip is one of the most challenging sections of this race. Those switchback curves really twist and turn.”

Anakin swerves to the right, smoothly racing around a curve before banking left and swinging around the next loop of the track. Behind him, Sebulba accelerates, doing his best to make up the difference between them.

Behind them, Zanales and Dark enter the frame before the screen switches to another camera view. Onscreen, Anakin zooms towards the camera, Sebulba closely behind him. The screen switches camera views again and you watch as Anakin continues speeding through the gorge, Sebulba slowly gaining on him.

“Skywalker dotkot don koo, Sebulba dotkot don sie,” Fode announces.

“That’s right, Skywalker and Sebulba are in the lead as the racers enter Jag Crag Gorge,” Beed comments.

Gardulla grins at Jabba. He pretends not to notice.

Sebulba rams into Anakin, attempting to shove him into a rock wall. Anakin maintains control, accelerating away from Sebulba.

Watch out, Anakin! 

“Hohohoho,” Jabba laughs.

Once again, whatever Gardulla says in response is drowned out by the announcers.

“Skywalker cheespa bo coopa!” Fode says. 

“You’re right about that,” Beed agrees. “With a rivalry this intense, I’ll be surprised if both of them walk away from this race!”

The camera view shifts again, showing Anakin entering a cave, Sebulba hot on his tail.

“Bu moletka doth doneha Laguna Poiahna,” Fode announces.

“Laguna Caves is one of the most dangerous sections of the track,” Beed continues. “In addition to the stalactites, racers have to worry about the krayt dragon that lives there.”

Anakin navigates around each mineral formation expertly, consistently dodging Sebulba’s attempts to knock him off-course. Dark takes advantage of this, accelerating her podracer past Anakin and Sebulba.

Kriff!

“Dark paknee ata bu panbipa!” Fode announces.

“Dark is in the lead, followed by Skywalker, Sebulba, and Zanales as the racers enter Canyon Dune Turn!” Beed adds.

You watch as Anakin gains ground, catching up to Dark, Sebulba nearly on top of him. Without warning, Sebulba suddenly swerves.

“Ye wanya bacaka bu Tuskens doth bata,” Fode comments.

“You’re right about that,” Beed agrees. “I hope the racers watch out!”

As though his words are prescient, holes appear in Zanales’s podracer seconds before one of his engines catches fire, causing the vehicle to tumble out of control as another racer veers to the side to avoid a collision.

“Ooo, da doth basnit saa jot wa kohpa,” Fode narrates.

“Yeah, it does,” Beed agrees. “Somebody call the cleanup crew!”

Anakin accelerates past Dark and so does Sebulba, both podracers zooming through the canyon side-by-side.

“Skywalker an Sebulba doth bongo du bongu!" Fode sounds as if he can barely contain his excitement.

“Skywalker and Sebulba are tied for first as the racers enter Bindy Bend,” Beed adds. “Followed by Dark, Sandage, and Braitrand.”

Anakin swings to the left and so does Sebulba, both racers flying around the curve towards a large rock formation. At the last second, Anakin guns his engines, pulling ahead of Sebulba just in time to enter another narrow gorge.

Yes! Go Anakin!

“Skywalker paknee ata bu panbipa!” Fode announces.

“Skywalker manages to steal the lead back from Sebulba just in time to enter the Coil,” Beed adds.

“Hahahahaha.” Gardulla laughs and sneers at Jabba.

He glowers at her in return.

Despite how much you dislike them both, you find yourself enjoying how much Gardulla annoys Jabba. 

Anakin banks right, hugging the wall around a tight turn in the course. Behind him, Sebulba does the same.

“Bu moletka doth doneha Jettbaa Vee cay Skywalker bancaie du bu panbipa,” Fode says.

“Followed by Sebulba, Sandage, Dark, and Braitrand as they approach the Corkscrew,” Beed adds.

Anakin leans into another turn, hugging the right wall of the ravine. This time, Sebulba chooses the inside of the turn, accelerating into the curve. His vehicle scrapes against Anakin’s as he works his way past, determined to regain the lead.

“Sebulba paknee ata bu panbipa doi Skywalker!” Fode announces.

“The racers are entering the Corkscrew with Sebulba in the lead, followed by Skywalker, Sandage, Braitrand, and Dark,” Beed says.

Come on. You can do this, Anakin.

“Hohohohoho.” As expected, Jabba laughs again, clearly taunting Gardulla. 

Anakin chases Sebulba through the wavy ravine, smoothly navigating the curves until they reach the narrow exit. Sebulba flips onto his side and so does Anakin.

“Sebulba and Skywalker have made it through the Devil’s Doorknob!” Beed announces. “The first lap is almost over!”

“Kava hatkocanh Skywalker hanei bu uonza woy bai bu Yih Cuoke?” Fode asks. 

“That’s a good question,” Beed replies. “Skywalker has no way of knowing about the Dune-Pipes.”

Dune-Pipes! Please be careful, Anakin, you think, biting your lip.

Sebulba zooms effortlessly across the Hutt Flats, entering the first pipe like the seasoned professional he is, Anakin following closely behind. If Anakin is surprised by the additional obstacles, one would never know based on his piloting. Sandage and Braitrand, however, are not as skilled as either of the racers in front of them. Both pilots accelerate towards the pipe, apparently misjudging their timing. They are racing side-by-side as they reach the pipe entrance, where they collide, both spinning out of control and wrecking their podracers. Behind them, Dark narrowly avoids being part of the collision.

“Jee cha chahsa haku boneiaht uba doth doi, da doth basnit saa kouikei!” Fode announces.

“And Jabba’s Dune-Pipes claim two more racers,” Beed comments. “It’s the end of the first lap and we’ve already lost five racers!”

The crowd erupts into cheers as Sebulba and Anakin fly through the Arena entrance on their way back around the course.

You breathe a small sigh of relief. Come on, Anakin, I believe in you. 

“Sebulba dotkot don koo, Skywalker dotkot don sie, Dark dorkot don duba'ta lumpa, roachee cay Nemesso!”

“That’s right, Fode,” Beed comments. “It’s the beginning of lap two and it’s still anyone’s race.”

The camera view switches and you watch as Anakin zooms after Sebulba, followed by two more racers.

“Nanndon bu koo cohka dee tozei jaa ateema, an bu moletka gee doneha Waldo Grade!” Fode announces.

“With Sebulba in the lead, followed by Skywalker, Dark, and Nemesso,” Beed adds.

The viewscreen switches to a different camera view. Sebulba comes racing towards the camera, Anakin in pursuit. You don’t quite catch what happens next, but one vehicle crashes, breaking apart into multiple pieces and the podracer behind it comes barreling through the debris.

You’re just glad it wasn’t Anakin.

“Oooo, heee kahe Dark!” Fode yells.

“Only ten of the original sixteen racers remain,” Beed comments.

The screen shifts again and you watch as Anakin gains on Sebulba, using the walls of the ravine to execute a barrel roll over the Dug, taking back the lead.

Yes!! Go Anakin!  

“Skywalker paknee ata bu panbipa!” Fode announces.

“Did you see that?” Beed sounds impressed. “Skywalker’s doing some fancy flying out there!”

“Hahahaha,” Gardulla laughs at Jabba, who glares back at her.

“Haku ne?” Fode asks excitedly. “Wata nan Pagalies, yatuka bimhee don duba'ta lumpa!”

“Making our current lineup Skywalker, Sebulba, Pagalies, and Nemesso as the racers approach the Mushroom Mesa,” Beed adds.

Anakin and Sebulba exit the narrow gorge, racing across the mesa, navigating around the rock structures with skill. The view shifts to an overhead perspective and you watch them shoot over the edge and down towards the valley below. This time, Sebulba actually manages not to bottom out and begins quickly gaining on Anakin. From there, you watch as they race towards another narrow gorge. At the last moment, Sebulba accelerates, his engines burning hot as he cuts Anakin off at the entrance and zooms ahead. To his credit, Anakin quickly recovers before colliding with the rock; zooming after Sebulba before Pagalies can catch up. 

You got this, Anakin. 

“Jee nah banag bai doth Skywalker saptkhe ateema!” Fode announces.

“Sebulba takes the lead away from Skywalker, cutting him off at the Neck!” Beed sounds pleased with his gruesome double entendre.

“Hohohoho.” You aren’t even surprised when Jabba laughs at Gardulla.

Sebulba and Anakin follow the twisting path through Beggar’s Canyon, hugging the walls as they fly around curves, Anakin doing his best to stay on top of Sebulba. Sebulba, of course, never gives him any ground. They race past the small houses nestled into the rocks there and you wonder how many times the racers have crashed into someone’s house. Anakin continues chasing Sebulba through the narrow canyon, never quite catching him. An explosion briefly brightens the screen before it shifts views, this time far enough away from Anakin you don’t need to worry.

“Banieie Yae baa moova sobahesa bai nem fet juju peekasa!” Fode comments.

“That’s the end of Pagalies for this race,” Beed adds. “Only nine racers remain. Sebulba still has the lead, followed by Skywalker, Guo, and Nemesso.”

Exiting the canyon, Sebulba and Anakin zip across a wide patch of open desert, a pack of podracers erupting into the open behind them. Anakin gains on Sebulba, trying to pass him.

Come on, Anakin, you think. You can do this. 

“Bu panbipa moletka gee bakenu bu Wahuota Banahnoce!” Fode announces.

“We’re halfway through the final lap, and it looks like Skywalker isn’t going to let Sebulba win this one easily!” Beed comments.

Skywalker isn’t going to let Sebulba win at all! you correct the announcer mentally.

Sebulba and Anakin race into a rock-filled canyon, where Sebulba slows ever so slightly to navigate through the obstacles. Anakin uses this to his advantage, piloting a smooth course past Sebulba, taking back the lead once again.

Yes! Go Anakin! 

As expected, Gardulla laughs and sneers at Jabba, who predictably glares at her in return. 

“Bu moletka gee doneha Bahpawuapt Gonyaa an Skywalker paknee ata bu panbipa!” Fode announces.

“Skywalker is absolutely crazy,” Beed comments. “Most racers prefer to avoid the arches all together but Skywalker seems to not even care!”

As you watch the screen, you see two racers collide with each other in the background.

“Jee cha chahsa haku boneiaht uba doth doi, da doth basnit saa kouikei!” Fode comments.

“Agreed, someone call the rescue crew,” Beed adds. “Guo and Nemesso are down!”

Anakin passes through the final stone arch and heads for the narrow gorge ahead.

“Bu moletka doth doneha bu Nes, cay Skywalker du bu panbipa, roachee cay Sebulba,” Fode says.

“With Ninebar in third place, followed by Holdfast, Wrantojo, Bolt, and Gasgano,” Beed adds.

Having captured the lead, Anakin refuses to surrender it, hugging the walls of the gorge as he rockets through the turns. Behind him, Sebulba races to keep up. For the moment, they’re alone on the screens. Anakin continues to pilot skillfully along the curving path, exiting into a cave, where he once again uses his Force-given prescience to zip past stalactites and maintain the lead.

“Keheu, hatkocanh uba mesohba da boua bolla!” Fode comments.

“I can’t decide if Skywalker’s crazy or if he has a death wish,” Beed says, sounding incredulous. “I’ve never seen someone fly through Laguna Caves so fast!”

You suppress the urge to scream at the announcers. Anakin is the perfect amount of crazy, thank you very much!

Anakin exits the cave and enters the widest of the canyons, where Sebulba immediately accelerates, ramming into Anakin as hard as he can as he shoots past.

Kriff. 

“Ooo, da doth basnit saa jot wa kohpa!” Fode yells.

“Sebulba rams Skywalker as they enter Canyon Dune Turn, taking the lead!”

Predictably, Jabba laughs at Gardulla, who glares at him in return. 

Anakin chases Sebulba through the canyon, almost catching him several times. A third racer — Ninebar, you assume — accelerates to close the gap. Onscreen, Sebulba and Anakin both move to the outside of a large stone spindle, leaving no room for Ninebar. Ninebar chooses the inside of the curve, risking the jagged rocks. Just as Sebulba and Anakin enter the next section of gorge, Ninebar misjudges and smashes his podracer in between two of the rocks.

“Heee kahe Ninebar!” Fode yells.

“Someone call the clean up crew!” Beed adds. “Only six racers remain!”

Anakin chases Sebulba through the twisting turns of the tunnel, close enough to ram him, though you notice he never does. Instead, he waits for a sharp turn, hugging the inside while Sebulba takes the outside, causing their podracers to collide, appearing to become stuck.

Oh no, you think, biting your lip. Come on, Anakin. 

“Skywalker an Sebulba doth punda tah punda!” Fode yells.

“They better fix that before the Devil’s Doorknob or they’re both bantha fodder,” Beed agrees.

Breathe, you remind yourself, feeling as if your heart is out in the track with how fast it’s pounding. 

Anakin and Sebulba continue to race along the canyon, still attached to each other. You can tell by the jostling that each of them is doing their best to dislodge their vehicles but they seem to be seriously stuck

Please be okay, Anakin. I just need you to live. 

Reminding yourself to breathe, you watch nervously as they follow the wavy path of the Corkscrew, the narrow exit rapidly approaching. As they barrel towards the tight opening, you once again remind yourself to breathe and reach for your one white stone. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me, you think. Right before the racers collide with the walls of exit, you feel a subtle sense of something shifting as Anakin’s podracer dislodges from Sebulba’s and executes a sudden flip, turning sideways just in time to slip through the narrow opening. Sebulba does not, instead smashing into the rock face in a fiery explosion.

“Oh noah!” Fode yells. “Heee kahe Sebulba!”

“Someone send a fire crew!” Beed adds. “I don’t think he’s gonna walk away from that!”

Gardulla begins laughing so hard you wonder if she isn’t going to choke. Jabba looks pissed. 

“Skywalker paknee ata bu panbipa!” Fode announces.

On the viewscreen, Anakin races through the pipes, headed for the stands. Before you know it, the crowd has taken to their feet and is going wild.

“Skywalker wins!”

Huttese translation:

Toogi! «Greetings!»
Jee doth Fode. «I am Fode.»
Da granee champio du Pixelito, Sebulba! «The grand champion of Pixelito, Sebulba!»
An Shrivel Braittrand doowa newpa Kulless Squall «And Shrivel Braittrand in his new Kulless Squall»
Bimhee bapionh dotkot wahca champio Teemto Pagalies doi Moonus Mandel «Up next is former champion Teemto Pagalies from Moonus Mandel»
An Gasgano doowa newpa eh cuedaneseke Ord Petrovia «And Gasgano in his new and improved Ord Petrovia»
Bapionh dotkot Knire Dark, Douotka Koutecmue chawaheke du uen Serabyss Howler «Next is Knire Dark, Ballast Complex favorite in her Serabyss Howler»
Neyoha bacaka Wan Sandage dotkot maee che andoba doh! Wohot tahboua vee spastika kushunkoo? «Looks like Wan Sandage is back for another beating! Does this guy ever give up?»
Bapionh du bu lineup dotkot ‘Scorch’ Zanales, Locahhaon Wahkepox'achawaheke «Next in the lineup is 'Scorch' Zanales, Gamorrean Citadel Favorite»
An bata maee, fa baa bu cakanle Dud Bolt cay da inkabunga racakochen, bu Vulptereen kwamon goba! «And back again, it's the mighty Dud Bolt in that incredible racing machine, the Vulptereen 327!»
Uba gee bai kehau peee goo doth an wonkee goo doth douaph bai moova mee wata bai raca yabee. «You have to wonder where he's been and why he's chosen to return here to race today.»
An la gee neu bu uonza Jabba gee woy. Goo caiot tee bla vehpobaee heee «And they've seen the changes Jabba has made. He can't know about those.»
La yama beestoo! «Here they come!»
O grandio lust Jabba du Hutt «His honor, our glorious host, Jabba the Hutt»
Chowbaso! «Welcome!»
Tam ka chee Boonta rulee ya, kee madda hodrudda du wundee! *** Jabba says this in the movie but I couldn't find a translation for it. Based on the context, I suspect it's something like, "To celebrate the Boonta rule, I give you this spectacle!" But that's just a guess.
An dare ovv! «And they're off!»
Ooo, da doth basnit saa jot wa kohpa! «Ooo, that's gonna leave a mark!»
Bunna shag hatkocanh chateua, Gardulla. «Your slave is gonna die, Gardulla.»
Kee doth tanea um ba kantiukace checee, Jabba. «You're nothing but an insolent brat, Jabba.»
Wata nan Skywalker yatuka bimhee don dopa'ta lumpa! «Here comes Skywalker moving into second place!»
An Beedo paknee ata bu panbipa! «And Beedo takes the lead!»
Jee cha chahsa haku boneiaht uba doth doi, da doth basnit saa kouikei! «I don't care what universe you're from, that's gotta hurt!»
An Skywalker paknee atu bu panbipa! «And Skywalker takes the lead!»
Kee hatkocanh wamma mi! «You're gonna owe me!»
Bu raca doth tee bimay hocan. «The race isn't over yet.»
Skywalker dotkot don koo, Sebulba dotkot don sie peee bu moletka chapteceha bu Cepei! «Skywaker is in first place, Sebulba is in second as the racers enter the Notch!»
Azalus. «Deadly/Dangerous.»
Skywalker cheespa bo coopa! «Skywalker better watch out!»
Sebulba gahke gee wa besnewa bkhaa yabee! «Sebulba sure has a mean streak today!»
Ooo, da doth basnit saa jot wa kohpa! «»
Wata nan Zanales, du duba'ta lumpa, roachee cay Dark! «Here comes Zanales, in third place, followed by Dark!»
Bu moletka doth doneha bu Nes, cay Skywalker du bu panbipa, roachee cay Sebulba, «The racers are entering the the Whip, with Skywalker in the lead, followed by Sebulba.»
Skywalker dotkot don koo, Sebulba dotkot don sie «Skywalker is in first, Sebulba is in second»
Bu moletka doth doneha Laguna Poiahna «The racers are entering Laguna Caves»
Dark paknee ata bu panbipa! «Dark takes the lead!»
Ye wanya bacaka bu Tuskens doth bata, «Looks like the Tuskens are back»
Skywalker an Sebulba doth bongo du bongu! «Skywalker and Sebulba are shoulder to shoulder!»
Bu moletka doth doneha Jettbaa Vee cay Skywalker bancaie du bu panbipa «The racers are entering Jett's Chute with Skywalker in the lead.»
Sebulba paknee ata bu panbipa doi Skywalker! «Sebulba takes the lead from Skywalker!»
Kava hatkocanh Skywalker hanei bu uonza woy bai bu Yih Cuoke? «How will Skywalker handle the changes made to the Hutt Flats?»
Sebulba dotkot don koo, Skywalker dotkot don sie, Dark dorkot don duba'ta lumpa, roachee cay Nemesso! «Sebulba is in first, Skywalker is in second, Dark is in third, followed by Nemesso!»
Nanndon bu koo cohka dee tozei jaa ateema, an bu moletka gee doneha Waldo Grade! «Coming into the first part of the final lap now, and the racers have entered Waldo Grade!»
Oooo, heee kahe Dark «Ooooo, there goes Dark!»
Haku ne? «What's this?»
Wata nan Pagalies, yatuka bimhee don duba'ta lumpa! «Here comes Pagalies, moving up into third place!»
Jee nah banag bai doth Skywalker saptkhe ateema! «I wouldn't want to be Skywalker right now!»
Banieie Yae baa moova sobahesa bai nem fet juju peekasa! «Dead Man's turn continues to live up to it's name!»
Bu panbipa moletka gee bakenu bu Wahuota Banahnoce! «The lead racers have reached the Desert Plain»
Bu moletka gee doneha Bahpawuapt Gonyaa an Skywalker paknee ata bu panbipa! «The racers have entered Arch Canyon and Skywalker takes the lead»
Keheu, hatkocanh uba mesohba da boua bolla! «Wow, would you look at that guy go!»
Skywalker an Sebulba doth punda tah punda! «Skywalker and Sebulba are side by side!»

Chapter Text

Containing your excitement on the way back to Gardulla’s palace is impossible. The best you manage is a quiet ear-to-ear grin. Luckily, everyone’s disposition is as jubilant as yours; Gardulla is in an extremely good mood, which means a better outcome for everyone involved. By the time you return to the palace, it’s clear the party has already started; smiles and laughter decorate every room and upbeat music fills the air.

Instead of heading back up to the favorites’ floor, Dinek proceeds through the engineering bay to a wide hall and then the cantina area. Since no one has given you any new orders, you assume your assignment is to continue shadowing Dancer, whom Dinek parades around on his arm. Anakin is in the cantina as well; like Dancer, his presence is being used as a testament to Gardulla’s wealth and power. You notice several of Gardulla’s guests approaching Anakin a little too closely, whereupon the nearby Nikto guards immediately interpose themselves between the guest and Anakin.

Although you find the party a welcome change of pace from the doldrums of your usual routine, you also can’t wait for the suns to set so the real fun can begin. Unfortunately for you, Gardulla’s palace possesses no windows on the ground floor, so you have no way of knowing the time. As a result, you are left to wander the room for what feels like forever, always five paces behind Dancer as Dinek schmoozes with an endless array of people. The amount and variety of food and drink you witness flowing through the room is staggering; a stark reminder of how deeply the Hutts are draining the planet and its people of resources. Anyone in attendance could be forgiven for thinking they partied in the Core based on the foodstuffs alone; the overabundance of fresh fruit and vegetables belies the idea of being on a desert planet.

Despite your certainty you are stuck in some sort of existential limbo, you eventually realize the party is starting to wind down; fewer and fewer guests circulate around the room until only Gardulla and her coterie remain. Dinek wanders over to the throne where Gardulla lounges, still drinking. He leans closer to her, conversing in low tones which prevent you from hearing, even if you could somehow miraculously understand it. Gardulla nods and gestures vaguely with an arm, apparently eager to return to her merriment.

Dinek bows before turning around and walking towards Anakin. “Report to the bottom floor, racer.” The majordomo turns and stalks towards the lift, clearly expecting you and Dancer to follow.

You ride up to the favorites’ floor in silence, escorting the two Twi’leks to Dinek’s quarters where he dismisses both you and his personal guard. Together the two of you walk back towards the lift. Upon reaching the curved hallway, your Trandoshan companion breaks to the left while you turn right. You pause next to the lift and count to ten before turning around and poking your head around the corner. The other guard has disappeared. Straightening back up, you proceed back into the dining area, headed for Dinek’s door. As you pass back through the atrium, you surreptitiously count the number of guards and people still eating. Only eight people, you think to yourself. It must be late. You take up your usual position outside the door, deliberately relaxing your body to project a calm you don’t actually feel. While waiting on Dancer, you reach out for Anakin mentally, surprised by how quickly and easily you connect with his mind.

‘I’m in position outside Dinek’s door,’ you send.

‘I’m downstairs where Dinek told me to be.’ Anakin replies.

After a few moments, the door slides open and Dancer calls for you quietly. “Lady Guard, I require your assistance.”

You turn, entering Dinek’s room. The door closes behind you. On the far side of the room, an unconscious Dinek lies sprawled across his bed, bound securely to the furniture by his wrists and ankles.

Dancer looks at you expectantly.

‘I’m in,’ you report to Anakin. ‘Going to open the transmitter.’

‘You can do this,’ Anakin replies. ‘I believe in you.’

You walk over to the desk and carefully pick up the transmitter, easily identifying the screws keeping the back panel closed. Reaching into the Force as you’ve done so many times before, you twist and pull the screws loose from the device housing and place each on the desk. Grabbing the back panel, you gingerly separate it from the rest of the metal housing and set it aside. Inside the device is a circuit board, just as Anakin described. Unfortunately for you, the power source is at the opposite end from the coil.

‘Kriff. The coil’s too far away from the battery pack. Now what?’ You send a mental picture of the device to Anakin as you carefully remove the magnets from your armor and place them inside the transmitter.

‘Can you pull the wires out?’ he asks.

‘No, they’re too short,’ you answer, placing the last magnet.

A spike of startled panic shoots through your mental connection.

You almost drop the transmitter, fumbling for a moment before you catch it again. ‘Anakin, are you okay?’ 

‘Yeah,’ he replies. ‘Have to go entertain Gardulla’s guests. Find some kind of a power source, Indra. You can do this. I believe in you.’ Then his presence leaves your mind. 

Biting your lip, you look around the room, searching for electronics or anything with a power source. Unfortunately, you find nothing. Kriff. Sighing, you return your focus to the object in your hands. What should I do? Everyone is counting on me. Your mind races, scanning through all the random bits of Star Wars lore you’ve compiled over the years. There’s only one thing you can think of and it’s both the most obvious answer in the galaxy and also probably a terrible idea. But what other choice do you have?

Closing your eyes, you pull up everything you can remember about Electric Judgement, primarily how it requires a sense of determined justice. If there was ever a moment in your life for such a thing, surely now is the moment. Reaching deep within yourself, you focus on your conviction to serve justice by freeing as many people from the bonds of enslavement as the Force will allow. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me, you think, gripping your certainty with both hands until they feel white-hot. A sudden heat and unexpected sparking sound causes you to open your eyes in time to witness the golden-white lightning shooting out of your fingertips and into the magnets which begin to glow with a flickering white light. The lightning ceases as quickly as it started, leaving afterimages on your retinas. 

Blinking away the streaks, you look over at Dancer. “Do you know how to operate this?”

Dancer gives you an uncertain look before pointing to the dial. “He turned it on with that.”

Heart hammering, you grip the dial and turn it until it clicks but nothing happens.

Beside you, Dancer laughs. “I can’t believe it. That actually worked.”

Grinning, you replace the back of the device. “Let’s go cause some trouble.”

You’re halfway to the lift when a familiar group of people steps around the corner. Shmi. As your eyes land on her familiar face, your heart leaps in your chest, and you smile so wide it hurts. Beside her stands Beru. With them are Heatwave and Sandstorm as well as a whole contingent of Sand People.

Before you can greet them, the eight remaining occupants of the dining atrium rise to their feet, weapons in hand. Fortunately for you, Lu, Rentubi, and Baxt are among those eight. Unfortunately, the other five consist of a Trandoshan, two Weequay and two Nikto you don’t know. After a moment of silence where everyone pauses, chaos erupts. The Trandoshan pulls a blaster and begins firing at the invaders. Heatwave steps in front of Shmi, bracing their slugthrower against their shoulder and firing once in a single booming shot. The Trandoshan falls to the ground while the Weequay pull their blasters and also begin firing. Behind you, a door opens. You turn around, drawing your fan, prepared to protect Dancer, and find yourself face to face with Gardo Lorda. He pauses, his eyes studying the room. They land on someone behind you and a brief look of recognition crosses his face before he looks at you and nods. He then pulls his own blaster and fires twice.

You turn back to face the fracas, finding everyone has frozen once more, the room in an odd suspension. For the briefest of moments, complete silence reigns before the sound of pounding feet announces the emptying of the barracks as guards pour from their rooms and into the hallway and atrium.

“Halt!” Gardo Lorda commands, and the assembled guards stop in place as though playing a deadly version of ‘Mother, may I.’

Your friends still stand near their dinners, not having moved to engage anyone at all. Likewise, most of the Nikto stay still at the Boss’s command, exchanging silent looks and nods. The stasis shatters as the Transoshans try to move forward to attack the interlopers. The Nikto turn and fight back, forming a protective ring around Shmi and the others, who raise their slugthrowers and fire over the crowd, picking off attackers one by one.

Gardo Lorda immediately charges towards the fray, firing his blaster as he runs. You follow suit, reaching the other side of the atrium in record time. A few of the Weequay and Trandoshans have made it past the others and charge towards you. Guardo Lorda swaps his blaster for a giant ax and roars a challenge. Grinning, you snap open your fan and take a defensive stance, heart pounding as you await your first opponent. You don’t have to wait long; a Trandoshan with a spear comes charging towards you. You block with your fan, feeling the reverberation through your arm as you twist, locking your fan blade around the spear tip and dragging it down, effectively disarming your opponent. Undeterred, they rush towards you. The spear drops to the ground with a clanging sound and you dance aside, bringing your fan up in an arc as your assailant sails past you, crumpling to the floor and clutching a stump where once was a hand.

Meanwhile, you continue moving, ready to engage the next opponent. They punch and you dodge to the side, simultaneously slicing upward through their armpit as you pass. The next assailant leaps towards you, arms outstretched as if to tackle you. Instead, you spin to the side, kicking them as they go flying past. You reach into the Force and give them added momentum, slamming their cranium into the wall. You spin around just in time to see an ax aimed for your head. Dropping to the floor, you roll between your attacker’s legs and slice the Trandoshan equivalent of Achilles tendons. Coming out of your roll, you surprise another attacker with a quick slice to the midsection before moving on to the next. This opponent, a skinny Weequay with small knives, loves to weave and dodge nearly as much as you. You eventually grow frustrated with their antics and use the Force to shove them into another adversary's weapon, who then falls backwards and is promptly shot by a Sand Person.

On and on you go, ducking and dodging and spinning and slicing, cutting your way through assailants until your hands are slick with blood. Eventually, you find yourself standing among a pile of bodies, breathing heavily. A quick look around the room reveals all of your allies still standing. For a moment you aren’t sure what to do. Although you’ve been training at combat for most of your life, this battle is the first time you’ve ever deliberately harmed another living being. You can’t help but stare in shock at your blood-covered hands. 

You’re still staring when Shmi’s voice breaks into your fugue state, startling you back to the present. “It’s okay. You can relax now.” She carefully removes your fan from your shaking hands and sets it down before wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “It’s okay,” she repeats.

Your whole body is beset by fine tremors, and you’re certain you should be crying, but you feel as though you are  floating somewhere far away from your body right now.

“Indra, can you hear me?” Shmi’s tone says she’s been trying to get your attention for a while.

Blinking, you pull back to look at her, forcing yourself to focus on the present moment. “Yes.”

She smiles and frowns at the same time, placing a weathered hand on your cheek in a motherly gesture. “Good. We need to keep going. Can you manage?”

Nodding, you bend down to retrieve your weapon, wiping it clean on the clothes of a guard who will never need them again. You tell yourself not to look at their face. 

‘Indra, are you alright?’ Anakin’s presence appears suddenly in your mind, a sharp edge of worry in his mental voice.

‘I’m…’ You pause, realizing there’s no real way to lie to someone in your head. ‘I am unharmed. Your mother and the cavalry are here.’ 

Anakin’s mood suddenly shifts to one of excitement and joy. ‘See you soon.’

Gardo Lorda approaches, his fist clutched to his chest in a gesture of respect. “Skywalker.”

“Tsy.” Shmi smiles and nods at him. “It is good to see you, old friend.”

“And also you.” Gardo Lorda — Tsy apparently — narrows his eyes. “What is your plan?”

Shmi looks back in the direction she came. “We cut the power to the lifts. We will take the stairs to the ground floor. Once there, we will disable the comms and recruit whomever we can, while clearing any non-combatants from the area.”

Tsy nods. “Allow my guards and I to assist you in this task. We may pass unnoticed where you will not.”

“I would be honored to fight by your side,” Shmi says with a smile. 

“And I, yours,” Tsy responds. “Give us half a mark before you come down.”

Shmi nods in agreement before walking back over towards the Sand People and beginning to sign with them.

“To me, gardo!” Tsy rallies the guards with a gesture, and soon he is surrounded by a throng of Nikto. “The rumors were true; the White Suns have come to liberate us. Tonight, we fight for our freedom! Some of us may die, but tomorrow the suns will rise upon us as a free people.”

The assembled crowd roars in approval.

“We will take the stairs down to the ground floor where we will recruit or subdue as many of our fellow guards as necessary.”

The group salutes Tsy and they disperse, headed for the stairs.

You mentally reach for Anakin, sending him an update. ‘Gardo Lorda is coming down to recruit more guards. After that we fight. Be ready.’

“Dancer, please go down and tell Chadrum what’s happening. Make sure they keep the whirlee safe.”

Dancer nods and heads for the stairs. 

Beru approaches you, pulling a familiar-looking belt from her bag and handing it to you. “The rest of your clothes are in the shuttle with Owen and Cliegg. But I thought you might need this now.”

“Thank you.” You accept your belt with a gracious smile, unwilling to tell her the weapon you already hold in your hand is far more useful than the toy lightsaber she brought you. Instead, you put on your belt, slipping your fan into one of the pockets.

The next half an hour is perhaps the longest of your life. You spend most of it in the fresher, cleaning the blood off of your hands and body. You do your best to wipe off the armor as well, but the filigree isn’t doing you any favors in that regard.

Finally, it’s time for your group to go down. One by one, you descend the dimly lit stairs in silence, listening for any sounds despite knowing you’re surrounded by artificial rock. 

When you reach the landing, Baxt greets you. “Comms are down. Boss is ready when you are.”

“Thanks.” You nod in acknowledgement, noticing the engineers huddling together in a corner of the barracks, a pack of Gamorreans protecting them. They grunt and nod an acknowledgment as if to signal they’re on your side.

You make your way out to the hallway, noticing how empty all the rooms are. Tsy has indeed done his part. Hopefully, Dancer has done hers as well. Gardulla and some of the guards look up briefly as you enter the far side of the cantina, but no one says anything. When Shmi and the Sand People turn the corner, it’s another matter entirely. The room around you erupts into the sudden chaos of combat, Nikto and Gamorreans taking down Trandoshans and Weequay. Your whirlee students twirl into action, their dance moves suddenly morphing from elegant to deadly as they begin attacking the special guests Gardulla gifted them to earlier. Gardulla herself seems stunned at first, staring at Shmi and the Sand People with her eyes nearly bulging out of her head as she pounds on her throne repeatedly. When the pounding fails to produce any result, she grabs a blaster and Anakin, pulling him in front of her with one arm around his throat and the other holding a blaster to his head. Her lips move, but you can’t hear her demand. Your heart races as you study the distance between you; there’s no way for you to reach him before she pulls the trigger. You could pull either Anakin or the blaster away but both actions would risk Anakin’s life. Not an option. You don’t have a clear shot to throw your piercers. Raising your hands in apparent surrender, you walk slowly towards Gardulla. You make it halfway across the room before you have a clear shot. As you reach for one of your hair sticks, Anakin extends his hand. You feel a tug at your waist; your lightsaber is flying across the room and has landed in Anakin’s outstretched hand.

Oh no, you think, terrified. This is about to go horribly wrong. He has no way of knowing the lightsaber won’t work. You should warn him. Before you can, Anakin flips the switch on your lightsaber.

A brilliant green blade erupts from the hilt, sounding and looking exactly like an actual, functioning lightsaber. While you stand there, shocked, Anakin has already begun spinning the blade in his signature style, slicing through Gardulla, severing the arm holding the blaster as well as her head.

It works?! It’s real?! You struggle with your own disbelief, your preconceived ideas battling against the sensory evidence collected by your eyes and ears. 

Whether from the sound of the lightsaber or simply the sight of a headless Gardulla, everyone in the room pauses at her death, many of them appearing seriously stunned. For a heartbeat, an eerie silence blankets the cantina. Then the sound resumes; those who had been fighting for Gardulla drop their weapons, and your allies begin whooping and hollering as the band starts a cheerful tune.

Unlike the rest of the room, you stand there, frozen, still stunned by the events of the last thirty seconds; namely the part where your lightsaber works like the real thing. But how does it work? What’s happening?

Anakin turns your saber off and walks towards you, a sheepish look on his face as he returns the weapon. “I’m sorry, it was the only thing I could think of.”

You shake your head, uncertain what to say. You certainly can’t tell him you thought your lightsaber was simply plastic and metal. Instead, you accept the weapon; the hilt feels heavier than you remember as you clip it to your belt. “It’s fine,” you hear yourself saying to him. “I’m just not used to so much death.”

Anakin nods, studying you. “Is that what happened up there?”

“Yeah.” You look away from his eyes, trying to blink back the tears.

Anakin opens his arms and waits, just as you did for him back at the homestead. You find yourself stepping into his embrace and burying your face in his shoulder, suddenly unable to contain the sobs. The stress of the past few weeks comes pouring through you in a crying fit so strong you’re shaking. Anakin just hugs you through it, rubbing your back gently the same way you did his. 

“It’s okay, you’re safe now. We’re finally safe,” he whispers. “We did it. You did it. I’m proud of you.”

This only makes you cry harder for some reason. Perhaps because the gentleness and comfort he is offering you is the polar opposite of the man he is destined to become. Part of you wonders if you’ve made a change in his destiny; you can’t bear to think of him becoming Darth Vader anymore. Not your best friend and Padawan, not the compassionate man who is currently holding you while you cry and doing everything he can to give you relief. Something in you shifts, what - you cannot say. If being here is your destiny - as Yoda said - you commit with every fiber in your being to spending your time here doing everything you can to save Anakin Skywalker.

After your shaking ceases and your crying slows, Anakin pulls away and wipes your tears with the hem of his tunic. “Are you alright?”

You look around, suddenly overwhelmed by the momentous task before you and the sudden realization your job has only just begun. “Yes and no.”

Anakin nods. “Let’s go someplace with less carnage. Downstairs?”

“Yeah. I’d like to go check on my friends.” 

You and Anakin take the stairs down another level to the next floor, exiting behind the lift in the guard housing where you’ve never been before. Looking across the empty lift shaft, you see the atrium. You have to cross the yawning chasm to reach the other side. Unfortunately, none of your guard friends are nearby to provide assistance. They all appear to be outside the whirlee in a living wall of Nikto. You open the gate and swallow, considering your options for safely crossing over the gap. 

Anakin stands there waiting patiently while your mind races, finally clearing his throat.

You look at him questioningly.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. 

The smile on his face says you probably shouldn’t, but after everything you’ve been through together you actually do. “Yes…?” 

Anakin laughs, sweeping you off of your feet, and leaps for the far side of the cage, kicking the gate open as he lands. He sets you down with a cocky grin.

You laugh and shake your head, not certain how you feel about your first near-Skywalker experience. Knowing him, this is probably the tamest of all the insane stunts he’s going to pull.

“What?” he asks with a playful smirk.

“You could have warned me,” you say, struggling and failing to keep your laughter from your voice.

Anakin shrugs. “It worked, didn’t it?”

You laugh-sigh, still smiling at him. “That doesn’t have anything to do with you not warning me.”

Anakin rolls his eyes in jest. “That’s why I asked if you trusted me. That’s Anakin for ‘I’m about to do something reckless’.”

You can’t help but laugh at his self assessment. “Fair enough,” you say, making a mental note for the future. 

You’re still looking at Anakin when his expression completely shifts. Unnerved, you follow his gaze to where Daesha’s bruised and broken body lies crumpled in a heap on the floor next to the corpse of  a Nikto guard whose name you do not know.

The non-whirlee inhabitants of the level appear to have been evacuated elsewhere, probably to one of the barracks rooms. 

You walk towards the line of Nikto outside the whirlee room, looking back and forth between your friends and the dead woman. “What happened?”

Miodel shrugs. “The whirlee happened.”

Suspecting more to this story, you step beyond the curtain to find Chadrum, Dancer, the children, and the remaining whirlee sitting together in a circle on the floor, an echo of the way you always end your classes.

“Everyone alright?” you ask.

Chadrum shrugs. “We are well. How goes the battle?”

“It’s over already,” you reply. “Gardulla is dead. Dinek is drugged and tied up in his room. And, apparently, y’all took out Daesha. Good job.”

The mother of the twins grins, her smile such a perfect match for the "Cell Block Tango" scene from Chicago you almost expect her to start singing about how Daesha had it coming. “She thought she could still control us. She was wrong.”

Chapter Text

The next morning in the structure formerly known as Gardulla’s palace is an odd one; half of the people around you are still running on old routines while the other half are deliberately choosing to do otherwise. Seer’aa and Teer’aa find their own path by doing both. You wake to their eyes staring at you expectantly.

“Good Morning, Lady Jedi,” Seer’aa greets you cheerfully.

“Mother says we can spend all day doing Jedi things as long as we aren’t bothering you and she gets to sleep.” Teer’aa grins, holding up a plate of food. “So we brought you breakfast.”

Smiling, you carefully exit your bunk and stretch, grateful to have your Jedi robes back. “Alright, let’s go eat breakfast out in the common area.”

“We already ate breakfast with Chadrum,” Seer’aa admits.

“You did?” You smile at Chadrum as you exit the room. 

Chadrum shrugs. “I owe them a life debt.”

“You do?” You eat a bite of your breakfast wrap, noticing it’s quite different from the usual gruel. You love it.

“I do.” Chadrum nods. “Another guard came running when Daesha screamed. I fought him. I disarmed him. He grabbed another warrior’s weapon and attacked me from behind. The children saved me.”

You smile at the twins. “Tell me more! How’d you do it?”

“Like you taught us,” Teer’aa says proudly.

“We pulled Chadrum away from the mean man.” Seer’aa sounds completely nonchalant.

You laugh and shake your head. “Clever thinking! I am incredibly proud of you both.”

The twins beam with your praise.

“So what do we do today, Lady Jedi?” Teer’aa asks.

“That’s a good question.” You mentally reach out to Anakin, noticing again how easy it has become. ‘Where are you?’

‘With mom and Beru in the ground floor cantina,’ he answers.

“Well, since you’ve gotten so good at moving things with the Force, maybe today you can observe people and notice what you feel from them.” You finish your food and deposit your plate in its designated location. “Let’s go see what the Sun Dragon needs help with.”

You and Chadrum escort the pair of younglings up to the ground floor in the lift. The excitement sparkling in their eyes as they leave the sub-floor they were born on makes everything you’ve been through more than worth it.

Upon seeing you enter the room with a pair of children, Anakin raises his eyebrows at you in an unspoken question.

“Seer’aa, Teer’aa, these are my friends who helped free everyone,” you say, gesturing towards the assembled Skywalker-Lars family. “This is the Sun Dragon and her family. They’re White Suns.”

If the twins’ eyes got any larger, they wouldn’t fit on their faces. “Hi, we’re Lady Jedi’s learners!” The twins greet them with a polite bow.

“Replacing me already?” Anakin fakes a wounded face, clutching his chest. “I’m so sorry, Master, tell me how I’ve failed you.”

Both twins giggle. 

Anakin winks at you, continuing the act. “Please, Master. Take me back. I’ll be a good Padawan. I swear.”

The twins laugh even harder.

You’re smiling so much it hurts. For just this moment, everything feels perfect in your world. You breathe your satisfaction in, fully intending to savor the sensation, when the sound of a familiar voice clearing his throat behind you shatters the moment irrevocably. Anakin immediately straightens up, losing all trace of his smile for the briefest of moments, only for it to return and triple in size, his eyes changing from startled to excited. The twins, sensing the sudden shift in mood, turn to look past you, positioning themselves behind Chadrum for safety.

“Why, all you ever had to do was ask, Anakin.” Kenobi’s tone oozes playfulness.

Surprised and confused, you turn around to find the reason for Anakin’s grin standing next to Obi-Wan in her fitted white and silver bodysuit. Padmé .

“Ani.” Padmé smiles at him. “You’ve grown.”

“So have you, my lady.” Anakin walks past you towards Padmé. “More beautiful, I mean. For a senator.”

Padmé looks uncomfortable.

You certainly feel awkward; between the repeating movie lines and being the odd one out, you don’t know how to react.

“It is a great pleasure to see you again, my lady.” Kenobi steps forward, smiling at you, his eyes twinkling. “I trust my Padawan hasn’t given you too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all.” You shake your head, forcing a smile. “In fact, I’m almost certain Anakin has taught me more than I’ve taught him.”

Kenobi moves even closer to you, still wearing his charming smile and chuckling a little. “I find that rather hard to believe. Though I am curious to learn more. You must tell me your ways,” he teases.

Something in his tone makes you wonder whether he’s trying to flirt with you or is on a secret mission from the Jedi Council to prime you for more secrets. Or both. Either way, you don’t trust his smile at all. You notice the twins are keeping quiet, still hiding behind Chadrum, whom both Kenobi and Padmé have chosen to ignore.

Smiling politely, you search for an excuse. “I would be happy to, Knight Kenobi…”

“Please, call me Obi-Wan.” He extends his hand, palm up, oozing charm.

You stare at him for a moment, uncertain what he’s trying to do and feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the whole interaction. Finally, you just shake his hand. “Obi-Wan.” You smile politely. “I will be happy to discuss matters of teaching techniques with you during any downtime. For now, I am committed to a rather large undertaking and I’m afraid it currently requires my full and undivided attention.”

“But of course.” Kenobi pauses awkwardly, looking somewhat confused before his expression shifts again as he approaches Shmi. “I was on Naboo when I received your message. I came as quickly as I could.” He pauses, looking around the large, cavernous space. “Although it appears you did not need my help after all.”

Shmi smiles at him politely, though you notice the expression does not reach her eyes. “The Force itself seems to have provided us with a great deal of assistance in the form of Master Bari. Most of our success here was a result of her strategic thinking.”

Kenobi smiles back at her. “Yes, it would seem she is quite resourceful. If you do not require any further assistance…”

Beru cuts him off, a fire in her eyes you haven’t seen before, not even during actual combat. “With all due respect, our work here has only just begun, Master Jedi. We have hundreds of people without a legal identity, a place to call home, or even a way to feed themselves.”

Go, Beru, you think to yourself, hiding a smile. Tell him like it is.

Owen nods, stepping forward to stand next to his girlfriend. “Beru is right. With Gardulla gone, we still have to face Jabba and the other Hutts before we can determine what the future of Tatooine will look like. We may have cut off the head of the krayt dragon, but there are others who will rise up to take its place if we do not stop them.”

“I appreciate the complexity of your situation,” Kenobi begins, still wearing his most charming expression. “But the mandate of the Jedi Order is to serve the Senate and Tatooine is not…”

“Yet a full member of the Republic,” Padmé interrupts, her polished politician’s smile more than a match for Kenobi’s. “But Naboo is prepared to sponsor Tatooine’s request to join the Republic. After all, we owe them a debt of honor. Without Tatooine’s help, we would be under the rule of the Trade Federation. As Naboo’s Senator, it is clear to me that I am needed here on a mission of intergalactic diplomacy to ensure the people of Tatooine have the same right to self-determination we enjoy on Naboo. As part of my security team, it would seem your current job is to ensure my safety while I am on this vital diplomatic mission.”

You tell him, Padmé, you think, suppressing a smile, absolutely loving the way she takes command of the situation.

“But Tatooine has not petitioned to be part of the Republic, nor can they with the Hutts in charge,” Kenobi counters.

“Mmm, but are the Hutts still in charge?” you ask. “According to Hutt law, Jabba should be here right now, laying claim to all of Gardulla’s property. Where is he?”

“Probably still hungover,” Anakin suggests.

Shmi nods in agreement. “Most likely, Jabba hasn’t arrived yet simply because he doesn’t know of Gardulla’s death.”

“Which buys us time to act,” you say. “If Jabba thinks Gardulla is still in charge, and we maintain that illusion, we have longer to petition the Republic.”

Padmé smiles, nodding along with your words. “I agree. If we can petition the Republic before Jabba notices what’s happening, by the time he realizes what we’re doing, it would be too late.”

“You’re both assuming a great deal, my lady.” Kenobi frowns. “Tatooine is a hive of scum and villainy; they won’t welcome the laws of the Republic here.”

Anakin glares at Obi-Wan. “We’re not all criminals, Master.”

“That’s not what I was saying, Anakin.” Kenobi sighs, obviously preparing to launch into a lecture.

“But isn’t it though?” You stare him down before he can continue. “You literally just said the planet’s inhabitants won’t welcome laws because they’re law-breakers. What you fail to realize is that poverty is the mother of crime. Tatooine became a haven for criminals because of the lack of laws, not the other way around. When the mining corporations took off, abandoning the people and equipment they brought here, they left a power vacuum and widespread poverty in their wake, creating an ideal environment for criminals to thrive. The Hutts are only here because there wasn’t any government or people with enough strength to stop them.”

When you finish your impassioned rant, both Anakin and Kenobi are staring at you. Anakin looks as though he’s just discovered a newfound aspect of your existence he finds fascinating. Kenobi has another look entirely, one you don’t know him well enough to recognize. If you had to hazard a guess, you would describe his expression as being equal parts frustration and admiration.

Kenobi shakes his head and sighs. “You do realize how completely mad you both sound? You plan to go behind the Hutts’ backs and join the Republic. And then what? What happens when the Hutts realize what you’ve done?”

“But that’s exactly why it could work, Master.” Anakin’s eyes burn with a fiery passion, as does his voice. “I would have said staging a slave revolt and invading Gardulla’s palace on Boonta Eve would be impossible, not to mention crazy. Which is exactly how we managed to pull it off; Gardulla thought she was invincible. She never saw this coming.”

“Anakin is right,” Shmi agrees. “No one has ever tried something so daring before because they’re scared to anger the Hutts. The Hutts are so used to being feared they don’t expect to be attacked by anyone other than another Hutt. We were able to invade the palace because Gardulla didn’t bother to place more than a pair of guards on the landing pad outside her room.”

“Gardulla also fell because she was stupid enough to think she could enslave Jedi in the first place,” you add. “A wiser adversary would have executed us. But Gardulla thought she was powerful enough to enslave two Jedi and get away with it. Which means liberating Tatooine is the last thing the Hutts would expect.”

“Master Bari does have a point,” Shmi agrees.

“Either way, I’m afraid the matter is not yours to decide, Master Kenobi.” Padmé continues, using her most diplomatic smile. “Whether or not they wish to join the Republic is up to the people of Tatooine.”

Kenobi narrows his eyes, staring at Padmé with an expression eerily similar to the strange way he looked at you when you argued with him. 

He opens his mouth, likely in protest, but whatever he might have said is cut short by the silver LOM series protocol droid who used to serve Gardulla. “Excuse me, madam, but Bib Fortuna is here to see you.”

Shmi exchanges a silent look with Cliegg. He nods his head towards the front of the building.

“Please ask him to wait,” Shmi says to the droid before looking at everyone. “Looks like we may not have the luxury of keeping our plans a secret.”

Tsy stands up from the table he’s been eating at, setting down his breakfast as he does so. “Allow my people to accompany you as a show of strength.”

“I agree,” Anakin says, glancing at your lightsaber hilt. “The more impressive we appear, the better.”

Padmé smiles at Anakin like he’s a child. “Let me do the talking, please, Ani.”

“I agree, Anakin,” Kenobi begins. “Your…”

Padmé interrupts him. “That goes doubly for you, Master Kenobi. As the only diplomat with any actual negotiation experience, I should be the one to talk.”

Damn, Padmé, you think, repressing a smile.

Shmi nods in agreement. “The Senator has the most power and experience out of all of us. I trust her to speak on our behalf.”

You look at Chadrum, who nods. “I will protect the hatchlings. You go protect the Sun Dragon.”

Clutching Tokreri’s claw for comfort, you dip your head in a nonverbal display of respect and follow the others down the grand hallway. Tsy and a handful of guards go first for safety reasons. Padmé strides along behind them, bracketed on either side by Anakin and Kenobi, much the same way they escorted you to the Jedi Council Chambers on your first day. An odd feeling twists in your stomach. Maybe it’s because you’ve gotten used to being part of the action, but part of you feels left out. 

They’re the main characters here, you tell yourself. This is their story, their universe. Plus, they’re old friends. I’m just an interloper. You walk with Shmi and Beru instead, Owen and Cliegg at your back along with a contingent of Nikto. Part of you unexpectedly misses your armor. While your Jedi robes may be more comfortable to sleep in than your armor, wearing leather and chainmail made you feel like more of a badass than Jedi robes do. On the other hand, Jedi robes make me look more badass to most people in this universe, you remind yourself.

You enter the receiving room to see all of the usual guards standing at their posts; if one didn’t know better, one might think today was just another day in Gardulla’s palace. A pale-skinned Twi’lek awaits, his red eyes carefully taking in your entire procession. Padmé walks over to Gardulla’s throne and sits down with the air of a Queen. Anakin and Obi-Wan take up flanking positions on either side of her. You stand with Shmi and Beru, behind and off to the side of the throne. The silver droid walks over to Padmé, bending closer as it receives instructions.

“The wise and gracious Senator Padmé Amidala Nabierre of the Naboo wishes to know why you have interrupted her breakfast feast,” the droid asks.

Way to talk like a Hutt, Padmé. Fortuna might actually respect that. Hell, Jabba might, too. You bite the inside of your lip to keep from smiling, knowing your job is to look intimidating.

“I humbly beg your forgiveness, your grace.” Fortuna bows deeply. “I came to pay my respects as soon as I heard of your … arrival.”

Knowing Fortuna and his history, you doubt any of what he is saying is true. Of course, only half of what Padmé is saying is true. Perhaps that’s how politics works.

Padmé is silent long enough to cause Fortuna some unease. You notice he begins toying with his lekku.

Eventually, Padmé speaks, her tone bored and dismissive. “Why is my arrival of interest to you? Or are you here at the behest of your master, Jabba?”

Fortuna sputters, looking affronted. “I am here as my own man. I came to see if we might, perhaps, reach a deal.”

Padmé sighs and yawns. “And what deal would that be? Why would I have an interest in speaking to you instead of your boss?”

Fortuna’s typically pale skin is now an angry shade of reddish-pink. “Because I am now the lord of Jabba’s townhouse. He has fled. I have come to offer you his slaves. For a price, of course.”

“The Republic outlawed slavery millennia ago,” Padmé replies. “Nor will we purchase their freedom from you.”

Fortuna laughs, a sound more akin to a mark of derision than any of true joy. “Not for credits. Those I can get anywhere. For my safety. I offer you the lives of Jabba’s slaves and access to his books. In exchange, you will allow me to leave Tatooine safely.”

You frown, wondering what he’s really up to.

“Why would I do that when I could just kill you and free Jabba’s slaves anyway?” Padmé asks.

Damn, Padmé. You already respected her, but the more you’re around her, the more you understand why Anakin loves her.

“Because I set the transmitter to kill them all in a mark.” Fortuna smiles at Padmé. “Unless I enter the passcode, they all die.”

“I’m sure my slicer can bypass that,” Padmé bluffs. “He already took care of Gardulla’s.”

Fortuna shrugs, his smile an eerie echo of Dinek’s. “Go ahead and kill me if you’re so confident.” He pauses for a moment, waiting. When no one moves to kill him, his smile stretches even wider. “I didn’t think so. I’ll be gone by the end of today. You can come claim your property tomorrow after second dawn.”

“How do I know you won’t kill them all anyway?” Padmé asks.

“You don’t.” Fortuna smiles. “You have only my word as a gentleman, just as I have yours as a lady you won’t shoot my ship down as I leave orbit.” Finished talking, he turns and walks away.

No one makes any move to stop him.

“We should have just made him turn them over to us today,” Anakin comments, anger evident in his tone.

“That is not the Jedi way, Anakin,” Kenobi chides him.

Anakin glares at Obi-Wan. “Maybe the Jedi way needs to change, Master.”

Chapter Text

You barely see Anakin over the course of the next month. Shmi, Beru, and Padmé cloister themselves off with the various settlement, farming, and tribal representatives who arrive from every inhabited corner of Tatooine to draft governmental documents and elect representatives. As Padmé’s personal security, Obi-Wan enters isolation with them; Anakin chooses to do as well. Technically, since Obi-Wan is still on his current assignment, Anakin continues to be your Padawan and should, by all rights, be following and assisting you in your tasks, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything to him about the situation. Anakin has been with Obi-Wan for ten years now; following him around probably feels like a much-needed return to normalcy. Shadowing Obi-wan also allows Anakin to see and spend time with Padmé, not to mention his mother. You don’t have the heart to stand between Anakin and all those he loves. 

You’ve grown so accustomed to his presence over the past few months his absence brings you an odd and unexpected sense of loss. You had hoped the end of Gardulla would mean a return to your previous rhythm of spending most of your time with Anakin. Instead, Gardulla’s death has only separated you even further. You’ve only seen Anakin when you’ve passed messages or information to Shmi, which hasn’t afforded you any opportunities to speak with him. Contacting him telepathically through the Force doesn’t currently feel appropriate either. 

While the Skywalker-Lars family is in isolation with the rest of Tatooine’s provisional government, they have entrusted you with managing all of the other various and sundry tasks. You are the one who contacts the other White Suns and updates them as needed, in addition to sending for the Doctor, the Surgeon, and the Tailor. You’ve assisted in the chip removal of every formerly enslaved individual, as well as the logging of their names and identities in an impromptu roster with the hopes of returning people to their homes and reuniting separated families. You’ve worked with the Tailor to ensure the whirlee are outfitted with new clothes. You’ve signed for the water shipments from Naboo and overseen their distribution to the populace. You’ve helped to open, explore, and catalog the contents of every storage room and treasure trove in the palace so it can be distributed to the formerly enslaved as reparations. You’ve even supervised the disposal of dead bodies, including Dinek’s. You don’t know who killed him, but you also don’t really ask. You suspect his death was orchestrated by the whirlee, for which you do not blame them. They deserve justice for all the harm they suffered at his hands.

Despite not speaking to or spending any time with Anakin, you are never really alone; Chadrum insists on continuing to guard the whirlee. Although Dancer has gone back to her work in the cantinas, she often returns to visit you, bringing news and gossip from the outside world.

“I’d still like to know how Jabba found out in the first place,” you muse to her during one such visit.

Dancer just looks at you and laughs, shaking her head. “The musicians,” she says. “Gardulla hired the band as a display of wealth. They left that morning and told everyone in Mos Espa about the Jedi joining forces with the Sand People to free the slaves.”

The former members of the whirlee also keep you company, maintaining their martial arts training as well as assisting you in your tasks. Seer’aa and Teer’aa continue acting as your Younglings, doing their best to learn the ways of the Force, at least as much as you can teach them. They also shadow you nearly everywhere, providing you with valuable observations and insight.

“The racer really likes the lady from Naboo,” they inform you after accompanying you on one of your regular visits to the provisional government. “But so does the smarmy man with the beard.”

“Smarmy?” you ask with a laugh, wondering how Kenobi earned such a moniker.

The twins nod in unison, looking like a pair of chibi bobbleheads. “His smiles are fake. We don’t trust him. He tries too hard to be nice to you; he wants something.”

You make a mental note, filing their wisdom away for later, just in case. You still aren’t sure if Kenobi wants to get into your pants or to pump you for information at the behest of the council. Or both. Knowing him, one is likely a means to accomplishing the other.

On the twenty-ninth day after Gardulla’s death, the provisional government exits their seclusion, smiles evident on every face as they bid each other farewell.

“What happened?” you ask Beru as soon as you have the chance, noticing everyone else seems otherwise occupied.

“We came to an agreement,” she says, her eyes shining with hope. “Each city, town, and settlement will be overseen by an administrator. The Jawas and Sand People, of course, will continue to be guided by their chiefs and shamans. A representative from each, as well as a representative for the moisture farmers, will work together as a council of elders to guide the planet as a whole. And we elected a senator to represent us in the Republic Senate.”

“Wow,” you respond. “Y’all accomplished a lot. Who is your senator going to be?”

“Senator Shmi Skywalker-Lars,” Beru says with a grin. “Looks like we’ll be joining you and Anakin on Coruscant.”

“We should celebrate,” you say.

“Oh, we definitely are.” Beru’s grin widens. “Senator Amidala has already begun making plans.”

Padmé’s plans are the reason you find yourself surrounded by Dancer and the former members of the whirlee, all of whom insist on dressing you up for the occasion.

“You should wear something nice,” Dancer says with a smile.

“But, I’m a Jedi,” you argue, staring back at her.

“So?” asks Venya, the mother of your erstwhile Padawans. You consider it a badge of honor to finally be trusted with her name. “Does this mean you have to always wear those awful robes? Surely the Jedi have fancy ceremonial robes or something .”

Your mind reaches into its nearly endless collection of Star Wars lore, thinking about all the Jedi who don’t wear standard robes, like Ahsoka, Aayla Secura, Count Dooku, or even Master Vernestra from the High Republic. “There are some exceptions,” you admit. “But what would I wear? And how would anyone identify me as a Jedi?”

Dancer laughs. “Whatever you ask Valsil to make you. He did an amazing job with your armor. Surely there’s a Jedi symbol you could wear?”

“Huh,” you comment, having never considered such a thing. “Maybe.”

“At least let us fix your hair and makeup,” Venya says. “Then maybe Skywalker will notice you again and stop fawning over that Senator.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “We were never together. Our relationship,” you say, reflexively rolling your eyes and making air quotes with your fingers, “was just a cover so we could meet and plot the rebellion.”

Dancer’s pointed  look says she still doesn’t believe you. “Sure it was. That’s why his mother was so upset when you were captured. And why she signed her note ‘Love, Sun Dragon’.”

“She was upset because I lived with them for a month as part of the household,” you argue.

Dancer rolls her eyes. “She treats you like you’re her own daughter, just like she does Beru.”

You smile patiently, certain this perception of theirs is simply a misunderstanding born from your own deception. “I’m his Jedi Master. He’s my Padawan. We’re just friends.”

Venya shakes her head. “Let us make you look nice for the other Jedi, then. Surely you’ve noticed the way he looks at you.”

You laugh awkwardly. While Anakin has always been your favorite, you have to admit Kenobi is attractive, despite his space mullet and rigid attitudes. Attractiveness aside, however, you don’t really know him or trust his intentions. Nor do you have any desire to get involved with someone who’s secretly in love with the Duchess of Mandalore.

Ultimately, you do wind up commissioning a new set of Jedi robes from Valsil, who is happy and eager to make you more flattering garments. Together, the two of you design a modified set of ceremonial garb. The outfit consists of white pants fitted to just above the knee, where they form a small puff before disappearing into your calf-high boot tops. The white tunic follows and fits the curves of your body down to your waist where it flares out into pointed sections which are echoed in the flaring bell sleeves. Tracing the edges of your tunic is a decorative three inch tall golden trim of embroidered symbols, each chosen for their meaning: the crest of the Jedi Order, the symbols for Ashla and Bogan, as well as the eight-spoked wheel of Buddhism and the Taoist Taijitu — your own personal nods to the Earth philosophies that originally inspired the Jedi Order. A fitted handkerchief-hemmed gold tabard, embellished with identical white trim and hand-sized symbols embroidered on the peaks; a white obi; and a golden belt complete the look. Your friends — as you’ve come to think of them — insist on doing your hair and makeup to compliment your fancy new robes. Looking in the mirror after they’re done, you have to admit you look more like a Jedi from the High Republic Era than the Late Republic Era, but the style suits you far better than your first set of robes. Despite the fact that they do not match the outfit, you insist on wearing Tokreri’s claw and your hairsticks.

Judging from people’s reactions when you enter the party, you aren’t the only one who thinks your new robes are flattering. Kenobi stares at you openly, a smile spreading across his face. Anakin also stares, although you suspect his stare is due to the sudden realization that Jedi don’t have to wear brown robes, rather than any attraction to you. Padmé gazes at you and then at Anakin, an oddly expectant look on her face. 

Across the room, an extremely attractive human man with longish, dirty blonde hair and a square chin smiles at you. Finding him vaguely familiar and incredibly easy to look at, you smile back. He sets down his drink and immediately begins walking towards you, as if emboldened by your response.

Where do I know him from, you wonder. He looks alot like that guy, Mickey, from “Scream 2”. Belatedly, your movie buff brain kicks in, aging him about thirty years. That’s Cobb Vanth, you realize, your heart pounding. He’s a genuinely good person, and more importantly — available and unattached.

Vanth strides towards you confidently, a twinkle in his hazel eyes as he bows slightly. “Lady Jedi, it is an honor to meet you.”

Feeling flattered by his attention, you nod respectfully, wondering what to say. You certainly can’t admit you know his name or backstory. “Likewise, I’m certain,” you finally manage, immediately feeling embarrassed for not saying something more clever.

“Cobb Vanth,” he says, holding out his hand, palm up.

“Indra Bari,” you respond, placing your hand in his, your heart racing even faster.

Cobb bends over your hand, kissing it gently, his stubble tickling your skin, sending a wave of goosebumps down your back. “May I have this dance?”

“Yes,” you reply, having a giddy fan-girl moment in the privacy of your mind.

Cobb steps closer as he places his empty hand around your waist. “I wasn’t sure you would accept,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

“Really?” you ask, placing your free hand on his shoulder. “Why is that?”

Cobb shrugs. “Jedi aren’t exactly known for dancing.”

You laugh, finding yourself immediately charmed by his playful demeanor. “I’m not really a normal Jedi.”

“I can see that.” Cobb grins. “You certainly have a much better fashion sense than they usually do.”

You find yourself laughing again, realizing you’re actually enjoying dancing with him. “That’s only because I’m not afraid to stand out.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” he says with a wink. “I can’t imagine you fitting in even if you tried.”

“Oh?” you ask with a smile. He’s right; conformity has never been your strong suit.

Cobb’s eyes sparkle as he spins you away from him and then back into his arms, careful to keep a polite amount of distance between you. “You’re a funnel flower among the poonten grass; far too rare and beautiful to ever blend in.”

You blush at his praise. “Do you use that line on all the girls?”

Cobb laughs, looking a bit sheepish again. “Believe it or not, this is a first for me. Is it working?”

“It might be,” you reply.

Cobb grins and spins you again. “Good.”

“Why is that?” you ask with a playful smile.

“Because I’m starting to like you quite a lot,” he admits with another wink. “It would break my heart if you turned me away.”

“Surely a man as handsome as you has other options,” you tease, remembering how well he ages. In thirty years he’ll be even hotter than he is now, an impressive feat on Tatooine. 

Cobb blushes in response. “None nearly as lovely as you, my lady. The suns themselves pale in comparison with your wit and grace.”

You laugh and shake your head, feeling the color rising again in your own cheeks. “You should look in a mirror sometime, good sir.”

Cobb raises his eyebrows in mock horror. “Why? Is there something on my face?”

You grin at him playfully. “Other than a charming smile?”

Cobb laughs and spins you again, this time pulling you a bit closer. “That is entirely your fault, I’m afraid.”

“Good,” you respond, moving your hand to accommodate the change in body position.

“Why is that?” he teases, winking again.

“Because I’m starting to like you,” you reply.

Before he can respond, the band stops playing, pausing momentarily between songs.

Valsil approaches you. “My turn,” he says with a smile.

Cobb winks and bows with a flourish before stepping away.

You accept Valsil’s hand and begin dancing to the next song.

Valsil leans in close for a brief moment, speaking conspiratorially in your ear. “I think the new outfit is a hit. Don’t look now, but you’ve got at least four admirers.”

“Oh yeah?” you reply with a laugh. “Who?”

“There’s the lovely male human you were just dancing with, the handsome bearded Jedi, Skywalker, and an older, distinguished looking human gentleman with impeccable fashion sense.” Valsil leads you in a spin, twirling you gracefully.

Your brain catalogs his response with curiosity. Cobb, Kenobi, Anakin… but who is the older gentleman? Who would be on Tatooine right now? Your brain combs through its fandom files, drawing a blank. “An older gentleman?” you ask.

Valsil guides you in another whirl. “ That’s the one you’re interested in?”

“No,” you say with a laugh. “That’s the one I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” Valsil pulls you closer for a moment, again speaking into your ear. “He has gray hair, a long nose, and cheekbones sharp enough to cut fabric.”

“Hmm, indeed,” you reply. “I wonder who he is.”

“Maybe he’ll ask you to dance and you’ll find out,” Valsil teases. “Or maybe I’ll go ask him to dance and find out for you.”

You chuckle in response. “So he’s the one you’re interested in.”

Valsil laughs along with you. “Darling, I'm interested in anyone with a keen fashion sense. The question is, who are you interested in?”

“Cobb Vanth, the one I was dancing with.” You admit, blushing.

“Oooh, he is pretty. Even if he does look like he came from the sand dunes themselves,” Valsil jokes. “Here I would have thought you’d pick Skywalker.”

“He’s in love with the Senator from Naboo,” you explain.

Valsil shakes his head and spins you. “And you’re not going to fight her for him?”

“It’s not like that between us. We’re just friends,” you say.

“Mmm,” Valsil says. “She isn’t into him though.”

“Oh?” you ask.

“She keeps looking at the one with the beard,” he observes.

“He’s her security detail,” you explain. “Besides, based on the way she argues with him, I’d say she’s mad at him about something. Or she was a month ago when they first arrived.”

Valsil laughs and shakes his head. “Oh, my sweet offworlder friend. Passion takes many forms.”

You laugh, shaking your head, unable to imagine Padmé and Kenobi as anything other than friends. It sounds more like Vader’s paranoia than anything founded in fact. 

Before you can comment, the song ends, and Baxt approaches. “Let’s dance, friend.”

Unlike your first two dance partners, Baxt does not try to take your hand or dance with you the way a human would. Instead, he stands across from you, mirroring your movements and bobbing his head in time to the music.

“Thought you might want a break from all the mating dances,” he comments.

You spit out a surprised laugh. “Mating dances?”

Baxt looks at you like you’re a hatchling. “You proved yourself a capable warrior. Now the eligible males are competing to see who can earn the right to fertilize your eggs.”

You turn a bright shade of red and shake your head. “That’s not what this is. Humans don’t mate that way.”

Baxt throws back his head and laughs. “Then explain to me what it is, lady guard.”

“A party where people are dancing for fun,” you sputter, feeling the answer is obvious. 

Baxt looks unconvinced. “Their body language and pheromones are consistent with mating rituals. Look at them.”

You look around the room, noticing who’s dancing together. Cliegg and Shmi. Owen and Beru. Miodel and Lu. Tela and Valsil. You can see why he would think this party is a prelude to mating. “But I’m not…”

“I know,” he says. “That is why I decided someone should come over here and check on you.”

“Oh,” you smile at your friend. “Thank you.”

“It is my honor, lady guard.” Baxt smiles at you. “Would you like to stop dancing and go get a drink?”

“Yes, thank you.” You follow Baxt over to the bar section of the cantina, where you grab one of the blue ready-made drinks from a tray.

Baxt grabs a red one and leans up against the bar. 

You pick a spot on the wall next to him and take a sip from your drink, realizing it tastes exactly like your all-time favorite beverage, wondering briefly how they managed to do that. You look around the crowded room, picking out your friends in the throng. The Skywalker-Lars couples are still dancing, as are Valsil and Tela. Groos and Gona are hanging out with Rentubi and Kloishak at one of the sabacc tables. Anakin is chatting with Padmé while Kenobi watches. Chadrum is playing some sort of game with the twins while Venya laughs. Tsy is talking with one of the female Nikto you don’t know. You don’t see an older man who fits Valsil’s description, but you continue looking for him. Something about the idea of him watching you makes you uneasy the longer you think about it. You wish you knew who he was.

As the band ends the current song, Cobb approaches the bar, headed for the drinks. But when he sees you, he changes course, a smile brightening his face. “Care for another dance, lady Jedi?”

Baxt looks at you expectantly.

You nod at your friend in reassurance before turning to Cobb with a smile. “Yes.”

Cobb grins even wider and takes your hand, leading you onto the dance floor. “This must be my lucky night.”

“Oh?”

Cobb continues smiling at you. “It’s not every day you get to dance with the most beautiful woman on Tatooine twice.”

You blush, unable to keep from grinning in response. “Are you always this charming?”

Cobb grins even wider. “You find me charming?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe.”

Cobb spins you out and twirls you back into his other arm, dipping you slightly before pulling you up to face him. “Such a Jedi answer,” he teases. “Do they teach you that in Jedi school?”

“I wouldn’t know,” you say, smiling at him. “I didn’t go to Jedi school.”

Cobb laughs. “Do the other Jedi know that?”

“Maybe,” you reply with another grin. 

Cobb shakes his head and smiles, spinning you out and back in again. “They’re not gonna be mad at me for dancing with you, are they?”

“Maybe,” you tease, if only because you enjoy flirting with him. “Does that make you want to do it any less?”

Cobb grins. “Not at all. As far as I’m concerned, it’s your choice. And you told me yes. I’m just planning out my best strategy if they come over here looking for a fight.”

You smile, certain he’s teasing you. Neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan have any reason to object. “Oh yeah? You have a plan for fighting two Jedi?” you ask. 

“I was hoping I’d only have to fight one,” he admits with a shrug.

You laugh again, noticing your side is beginning to hurt from all the laughter. “And what about the other one?”

“I thought maybe you’d take pity on me and help me out,” he says with a puppy-dog look.

You laugh even harder, realizing you’re genuinely enjoying yourself; flirting with him is a lot of fun. “Maybe.”

Cobb joins in. “I knew you were going to say that.”

“You did? Are you Force sensitive too?” you tease.

“Maybe,” Cobb replies with a wink.

All too soon, the band stops playing. You both pause, still holding onto each other.

“Might I have the honor of this dance, my lady?” Kenobi asks.

You don’t really want to dance with Obi-Wan, but it would be rude to turn him down. Nor do you want to cause any trouble for Cobb; refusing Kenobi might be interpreted as an early warning sign of attachment. The last thing you want is to be hauled before the Jedi Council for violating the Code. 

“Yes,” you sigh, still looking at Cobb.

Cobb looks disappointed.

Impulsively, you lean forward, kissing him on the cheek.

“I’ll be here when you’re done if you want to dance again,” Cobb says with a smile, backing away.

Kenobi steps in, taking your hand as the music starts. “What an interesting set of robes you’ve chosen for this event, my lady. I would love to know more about them.”

“They’re modeled on classical Temple Robes,” you reply, carefully keeping a polite distance between the two of you.

“As I suspected,” Kenobi comments with a smile. “And what of the symbols you chose?”

“Other than the symbol of the Order?” you ask.

“Of course,” he replies, still smiling.

“Ancient Je’daii Order symbols for Ashla and Bogan,” you reply. “As well as cultural symbols from my home planet. One is a reminder to live in accordance with the will of the Force by following the eight practices of right view, right resolve, right speech, right conduct, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right samadhi or meditative awareness. The other is a symbol of balance and harmony and the ultimate unity of the Force as a whole.”

Kenobi nods, looking thoughtful. “How fascinating. Your people have a unique approach to worshiping the Force.”

“Thank you,” you say with a smile, feeling like you might have actually impressed him. “We believe there is no one true way to connect with the Force, but a multitude of right ways unique to each and every individual.”

Kenobi frowns. “But surely there must be a right way just as there are wrong ways.”

You smile patiently at him, breathing into your core and summoning your one white stone. “Tell me, Obi-Wan, if your assignment required you to negotiate with the Wookies, would you take the same approach as you would with the Hutts, or the Gungans?”

“Of course not,” Kenobi responds. “They each have their own cultures and traditions. A skilled negotiator studies the history and society of the people he is going to speak with so as to tailor his approach to them.”

You nod, continuing to smile. “As above, so below. If we are wise enough to change our methods to suit the needs of the circumstances, then is not the Force also capable of this?”

Kenobi blinks at you, recognizing you’ve trapped him with his own words. If he argues with you now, he’ll be saying the Force is not as wise or smart as he.

You continue. “If the Force created us all in such a beautiful array of diversity, then the Force intended for each of us to have different needs. Thinking there can only be one true way of living in harmony with the Force is like expecting trees to behave like fish; it’s pure egotistical hubris. This fallacy posits we are wiser than the Force and know better than it does. If there can be said to be any wrong way to worship, surely thinking we are superior to our divine creator and have the right to judge our fellow living beings must be the first wrong way.”

Kenobi stares at you, the look in his eyes a strange mixture of respect and something else, desire perhaps. “You have given me much to think about, my lady. Thank you.”

Your conversation lapses into silence and you focus on following Kenobi’s lead as you move to the rhythm of the music. 

Your eyes wander across the room, landing on Anakin and Padmé who dance slowly, heads close together. An odd feeling twists and squirms in your stomach and you push the sensation away as Kenobi leads you in a twirl. That’s how this story is supposed to go, you remind yourself. Anakin is supposed to wind up with Padmé. Yet, for all your certainty, when Kenobi leads you in another turn, the sight of Anakin leaning down and kissing Padmé only makes the twisting coil deeper into your gut. “ Destiny struggles to reassert the pattern that was meant to be,” you think, quoting Dean Koontz at yourself.

Kenobi shifts his hand, raising your arm in the air and spinning you in time to the music. The playfulness of the moment startles you out of your reverie and you laugh as he pulls you back towards him, a mischievous glint twinkling in his eyes. He spins you into his arm, pulling you against the warmth of his chest for the briefest of moments before he suddenly shifts position, tipping you backwards over his arm in an unexpected dip, a playful smirk on his lips as he leans in and kisses you. Confused, startled, and half-upside-down, you freeze at the feeling of his scratchy beard and mustache pressed against your face. What the kriff?

Your mind races.  Your first instinct is to kick him in the balls, but given the precariousness of your situation, you restrain yourself from doing so. You have no desire to fall on the floor from this angle; the way your back is arching, your head would likely hit the durocrete first. Why is Kenobi kissing me? He’s like… thirty-five at this point? I’m only twenty. And when have I ever shown any interest in him? Which, even if I had, what happened to, you know, asking? This isn’t romantic. It’s creepy.

Thankfully, the song ends and Kenobi stops kissing you, pulling you back up, still smiling insufferably. The moment you’re upright, you jerk away from him, pull your hand back, and slap the smirk off his face with as much force as you can.

“Never without my permission.” You throw the movie quote at him as though it is a weapon and turn, bolting for the fresher. The door closes behind you. You make it to the sink before the heaving sobs overtake you as your brain struggles to process what just happened. You’re in the act of scrubbing your lips raw when the sound of a stall door opening behind you startles you. Looking up, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; tear-stained cheeks, puffy, swollen lips and all. Behind you, Padmé looks every bit the Senator, her makeup, hair, and clothing immaculate. It’s no wonder Anakin is in love with her. She’s breathtaking as well as brilliant and headstrong.

“Are you alright, Lady Jedi?” Padmé moves towards you, a look of concern on her face.

Not trusting yourself to speak just yet, you shrug. Am I alright? I don’t even understand what just happened. 

Padmé frowns and grabs a towel, wetting it down. “Here, let’s get you cleaned up.” She reaches towards your cheek, gently wiping away the makeup stains. “That kiss didn’t mean anything, you know. Ani is sweet and all, but he’s always going to be a little kid in my head.” She smiles at you.

“I’m sorry, what?” Padmé’s words startle you. Why is she talking to me about Anakin right now?

Padmé laughs and blushes a little as she wipes your other cheek. “I’m sorry, I just thought…” she shakes her head with another little nervous laugh. “Nevermind. It’s my fault for making an assumption. Why are you crying? Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Sniffling, you smile awkwardly, desperate to talk to someone and make sense of the swirling storm of emotions in your gut. “Kenobi,” you say. “He… kissed me.”

The tiniest of flashes of emotion flickers in Padmé’s eyes before the kind smile overtakes them. “And…?” she prompts you gently.

“I don’t know why,” you say, your voice breaking a little. “I don’t even know him, not really. One moment we were dancing and then the next he was kissing me.”

Padmé frowns, finally finished wiping your face. “I’m sorry he did that. Do you want help talking to him about it?”

“I kinda already did,” you say with a nervous laugh. “I might have slapped him and told him to never kiss me without my permission.”

Padmé laughs as well, genuine amusement in her tone. “Sounds like he deserved it. He can be a terrible flirt but he should know better. Good for you.” She smiles at you again. “Do you feel like you can go back out there and face him or do you want me to go distract him so you can get away?”

You can’t help but smile at her in return. “I’ll be ok.”

“Good. Do you want some help fixing your makeup?” Padmé offers.

“Sure.” You shrug. 

Padmé opens her bag and pulls out some mascara and lipstick, expertly applying both. “There,” she says with a smile. “Now no one will ever know you’ve been crying.”

“Thank you,” you say. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

Padmé smiles, laughing a little. “Of course I did, it was the right thing to do.”

Followed by Padmé, you exit the fresher in time to see Kenobi and Anakin deep in a heated argument on the far side of the cantina near the bar. Walking towards them, Obi-Wan says something that appears to upset Anakin based on his body language and the sudden spike of anger you feel in the Force.

Obi-Wan stands with his arms folded, lecturing Anakin as you approach. “That is exactly what you have been doing on Tatooine, Anakin; indulging in your attachment to your mother, chasing excitement by podracing, satisfying your desire for revenge on the Hutts.”

Hearing him belittle Anakin only inflames the anger you already feel towards Obi-Wan for kissing you. “Freeing slaves, you mean,” you comment, your tone full of salt and vinegar.

Kenobi purses his lips, shaking his head in obvious disapproval. “Freeing slaves is not part of the Jedi mandate. Our job is to serve the Senate and the Republic, not go gallivanting off to act as vigilantes based on personal vendettas.”

“Slavery is illegal by the laws of the Republic,” Padmé argues.

“And this is Hutt space, not the Republic, my lady.” Kenobi gives her a look. “You of all people ought to know the dangers of risking intergalactic conflict for moral superiority.”

“Where we are is beside the point, Obi-Wan.” You stare him down. “We are always Jedi, and it is our duty to serve the will of the Living Force, not the will of the Senate. The Jedi Order and the Republic both used to think freeing the enslaved was a just cause worth going to war over, before they became so corrupted by their well-meaning obeisance to political expediency they forgot they were supposed to serve the people, not the powerful and privileged.”

The sudden sound of slow applause from behind startles you. Beside you, Padmé freezes, an odd look on her face. You turn around to find yourself face to face with the perfect match to Valsil’s description of the distinguished-looking older gentleman. Count Dooku. 

Chapter Text

You stand there uncomfortably staring in shock at Darth Tyrannus himself, not at all sure how to feel about his applause. One white stone, you think, raising your mental defenses. 

“Well spoken,” Dooku praises you. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Mas… Count Dooku,” Kenobi greets the older man. “What a pleasant surprise to see you.”

“Knight Kenobi,” Dooku responds. “I wish I could say the same but it would be a lie. Truthfully, I am disappointed to see Qui-Gon had so little impact on you.”

Kenobi looks as though Dooku has smacked him almost as hard as you did. 

An awkward silence hangs around your group, suspended by all the tension. You still aren’t sure how to feel about this development. As much as you should appreciate having a voice of authority on your side, it’s kind of hard to celebrate support from a Sith Lord. Albeit an idealistic, well-meaning Sith Lord, but a Sith Lord nonetheless.

Taking advantage of Kenobi’s seemingly stunned speechlessness, Dooku turns to you and Anakin. “It is, however, a great pleasure to meet young, passionate Jedi untouched by the rampant corruption and complacency of the Council. I am Master Dooku, current Head of State for the Confederacy of Independent Systems, and newly returned member of the Jedi High Council.”

Member of the Jedi High Council?! Your brain sputters to a screeching halt as you try to understand how such a thing is even possible. You replay your own meeting with the Council a few short months ago. 

“What you can say,” Master Windu says, “is who the current Sith Apprentice is.”

“Darth Tyrannus. Though since Anakin and Obi-Wan are fresh from Ansion, that means Darth Maul is still alive, hiding out from Darth Sidious on Lotho Minor,” you add, just in case this is a trick question.

Belatedly, you realize you were so distracted by trying to figure out what was going on that you forgot to tell them who Tyrannus actually was.

Kriff, this is my fault; I could have prevented this by just telling them who he was. But I thought they were a bunch of actors trying to trick me, you think, a wave of guilt washing through you as you grip your one white stone even tighter. But how is he on the Council?

“I find that rather hard to believe, Count Dooku.” Padmé is apparently as confused and suspicious about this turn of events as you are. “The Jedi are sworn to uphold the Republic and the Separatists are working to destroy it. I cannot imagine how you could be trusted with such an obviously split allegiance.”

Dooku sighs and shakes his head. “The Jedi are servants of the Force, my lady, not tools to be wielded by politicians such as yourself. As a religious order, they are supposed to remain separate from the Senate and the Republic for a reason. Also, it might surprise you to know the Separatists are simply elected officials - such as yourself - trying to protect our planets and people from tyranny.”

“By invading planets, starting wars, and hiring assassins?” Padmé glares at Dooku, her tone icy - unlike the fiery passion you’ve witnessed her exhibit when disagreeing with Kenobi.

Her argument carries a sharp edge of anger behind it. You don’t blame her; from her perspective, Dooku is the man behind her assassination attempts.

Dooku looks like an exhausted college professor. “You cannot blame an entire governmental body for the actions of a single individual, my lady. As I told Master Yoda, the Confederacy of Independent Systems is no more responsible for the actions of Nute Gunray than the Senate is for your actions.”

“I do not believe a single word you say, Count.” Padmé clearly still refuses to acknowledge his Jedi title.

“Please forgive Senator Amidala,” Kenobi says, having finally found his voice. “It’s only that I spoke with the Council earlier today and they said nothing of your return to the Order, let alone the Council.”

“And the Council regularly informs you of its decisions, young Kenobi?” Dooku raises an eyebrow.

You have to respect Kenobi for trying. You’re still upset with him for being so forward with you, but you also like him better than Darth Tyrannus. One white stone.

Dooku sighs again, shaking his head as he pulls out a holo-communicator, holding it in the palm of his hand. An image of Master Yoda appears before all of you.

“Dooku, good to hear from you it is,” the hologram of Master Yoda greets him. “Help you, how can I?”

“Master, I’m afraid I have run into some difficulties with Senator Amidala and Knight Kenobi. I wondered if you might speak on my behalf.”

“Mmm,” Master Yoda replies. “Discuss this when you return to Coruscant, we shall. For now, trust Master Dooku, you should.”

“Thank you, Master.” Dooku smiles slightly at Yoda. “May the Force be with you.”

“With you, may the Force be,” Yoda replies.

The connection closes, Dooku returning the device to his pocket. “I understand you dislike me, my lady. If you wish to take this up with the Council, I will be happy to answer any formal accusations you may have.”

This isn’t right, you think. This isn’t supposed to happen this way. I have to find some way to fix this. But how? He’s an actual Sith Lord. Neither Kenobi nor Anakin can take him in a duel. At least not now. One white stone.

Padmé shakes her head. “I think I will address the Council. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I have political business to attend to.”

Obviously angry, Padmé turns and stalks away, Obi-Wan trailing in her wake. Anakin stares after them and then back at you, looking conflicted. 

Please don’t leave me alone with the Sith Lord, you mentally plead. One white stone.

Unable to hear your mental plea through your shielding, Anakin chooses otherwise, turning to follow Padmé.

Damnit, Anakin, you think, feeling abandoned as you grip your one white stone even harder.

Undaunted, Dooku turns to you, smiling once more. “As I was saying, it is a pleasure to meet you, Knight…”

“Bari,” you supply with a bow, your heart pounding. Stay calm, you remind yourself. One white stone.

Dooku bows in return. “It is an honor to meet you, Knight Bari. Views such as yours are quite rare these days, especially among the youth. As the Padawan of my Padawan, I would have expected them from Kenobi. It is altogether surprising and quite curious to hear such words coming from you. Who was your Master?”

This again, you think, careful to repeat the answer you gave the Council. “I have been trained by many Masters, such as Master Lee and Master Barnes and Master Gyatso.”

Dooku frowns. “I’m afraid I have not had the honor of meeting any of your Masters. Still, I am certain they must have been extraordinary teachers to have instilled such a strong sense of morality in you.”

That was Luke Skywalker, you think to yourself, remembering your collection of Jedi Academy novels. He’s the one who taught me what it meant to be a Jedi. The thought of Luke brings to mind Mara Jade and you find yourself thinking of redemption. If Mara could be redeemed, if Anakin can be redeemed, if Kylo could be redeemed, why not Dooku? After all, he left the Jedi Order out of frustration with their corruption. Maybe he rejoined them out of a desire to fix things. Maybe he’s not really a bad guy. There’s only one way to find out. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me, you think. One white stone.

“Thank you, Master Dooku,” you reply. 

“I find your choice of attire for this evening’s festivities quite fascinating.” Dooku looks at you like you are a puzzle he is trying to solve. “Please, tell me about it.”

You sigh inwardly, having failed to realize your clothing would be such a topic of conversation this evening. “My robes are modeled on an older style of formal garment I read about.” Granted, you read about them in novels and on Wookiepedia, but he’s free to assume you mean the Archive.

“They remind me of a style that has not been popular among the Jedi since I was quite young.” Dooku gestures towards the symbols on your sleeves. “Tell me about these symbols, what they are and what they mean to you as a Jedi.”

“The first is the crest of the Order,” you explain. “I have always seen a winged blade of light, a reminder that with the Force as our ally, we can rise above any obstacle and offer hope to those who need it most. The second and third are the ancient Je’daii symbols for Ashla and Bogan, visual reminders that we once knew each side of the Force contained and balanced the other. The final two are cultural symbols from my homeworld. One is a reminder to live in accordance with the will of the Force by following the eight practices of right view, right thought, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right meditation. The other is a reminder that neither the dark side nor the light side can exist without the other and are never absolute unto themselves.”

Dooku looks at you thoughtfully. “I find your view of the Force quite refreshing, young lady, if a bit unconventional. Where did you say you are from?”

I didn’t, you think. What you say is, “A small, nowhere planet way out on the edges of the Outer Rim.”

Dooku looks as though you’ve personally insulted his intelligence. “What is the name of your planet?”

“Earth.” You stare back at him, waiting for his reaction.

“Hmm.” Dooku frowns. “I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with your planet. Do they currently have a seat in the Senate?”

You pause, wondering how to answer him. “No.”

“Yet you are not members of the CIS,” he observes.

“Earth tends to be…” you pause, searching for the right word. “Rather isolationist in its policies, Master Dooku.”

“I see.” Dooku pauses before continuing. “If your people are ever in need of allies, the Confederacy values and respects the sovereignty of systems.”

“I am not privy to the political process of my people,” you reply, suppressing a laugh at the absurd idea of Earth ever getting over its divisive and xenophobic tendencies enough to form a unified global government. Instead, you return your focus to Star Wars and the lingering questions still plaguing you. 

“I am curious about you as well, Master Dooku. Your bust is on display in the Temple Archives along with the rest of the Twenty. Why did you return to the Order? And as a Council member no less?”

Dooku looks nonplussed. “I left the Order because I became disillusioned with their choices to serve the elites. I thought I knew a better way to help the people of the galaxy. At the time, I felt leaving the Order was the will of the Force. But now, recent events have transpired that make me think there may yet be another way to serve the will of the Force.”

Recent events? Sounds like this probably is my fault. You nod, wondering how much you can get away with asking. “I would be grateful to hear as much about your experience as you can tell me, Master.”

Dooku stares past you, his eyes looking as though he is briefly reliving a memory. “My Master contacted me and told me my Padawan’s murderer was in Jedi custody. He invited me to visit the Temple and speak with the killer. While I was at the Temple, I was given a long-awaited apology for the dismissal of my concerns and offered my old seat on the Council back.”

Yoda, you think. You told Yoda Dooku was connected to the attempt on Padmé’s life as were the other Separatists. Yoda reached out to his Padawan and asked him about the issue. Your brain prompts you with a snippet of earlier dialogue. 

Dooku stares back at Padmé. “As I told Master Yoda, the Confederacy of Independent Systems is no more responsible for the actions of Nute Gunray than the Senate is for your actions.”

Dooku shifted the blame to Nute Gunray. Who, technically, did hire multiple assassins to kill Padmé, you remember. This whole situation is entirely my fault. I’m the reason Yoda reached out to Dooku. And possibly the reason Yoda thought having a radical on the Council was a wise plan in the first place. Because Dooku has repeatedly spoken out against Palpatine in his speeches. One white stone.

Realizing you haven’t responded, you decide to rely on social niceties to save you. “I am sorry to hear about the death of your Padawan, Master Dooku. May his memory be a comfort and a blessing to you.”

Dooku looks at you strangely, as though this simple statement — out of all the things you’ve said to him this evening — is the oddest yet. “Thank you, my lady. What an interesting turn of phrase. Is this a cultural saying from your world?”

“It is one of many used to acknowledge the passing of a loved one,” you answer.

Dooku continues frowning. “Your people do not celebrate death as a return to oneness with the Force?”

“Some of us do, eventually, reach a place where we can appreciate our loved ones being at peace,” you reply. “But before we can accept our loss, we must hold space for our grief. Instead of denying our emotions, we are taught to observe them without judgment as a radical form of self acceptance and self care. Emotions are like waves; if we block them or try to stop them, we only cause a build-up of pressure. By allowing our emotions to rise and fall naturally, we allow ourselves to recognize our grief comes from a sense of loss. This loss teaches us there can be no self without other, and that, in feeling we have lost an irreplaceable piece of ourselves, we recognize all we learned from and experienced with them still lives on in us. Our connection to them and love for them cannot be lost.”

Dooku has a strange look in his eyes, almost as if he could cry but is forcing himself to not. “You do not believe our emotions are a path to the dark side?”

You shake your head, smiling gently at him, deliberately imagining you are speaking to a kind, grandfatherly figure. “No. Our emotions are our greatest teachers. When we allow them to arise in meditation, we have the power to observe and learn from them. As emotions simply wish to be seen and heard, witnessing them allows them to fall away naturally. When we suppress and deny them, or when we act on them, driven by the intensity of their peaks, that is when our emotions become harmful.”

You pause, taking a breath before continuing. “As for the dark side, it is not the evil malevolence we imagine it to be. Darkness, like night, is a necessary part of the rhythm of life. It allows for rest, recovery, and healing. Constant exposure to light can burn, blind, and even kill. Cells that do not die cause cancer and kill their host. A forest devoid of predators soon becomes a wasteland; without hunters to limit the number of herbivores, ungulates and other plant-eaters will strip an ecosystem bare of the grasses which hold the soil in place. Night follows day follows night. Living things die and bring forth new life. Stars become black holes, reseeding the galaxy with the ingredients for new stars. This is the way of the universe at every level from the microscopic to the cosmic. Darkness has never been at war with the light, nor the light at war with the darkness except that we have imagined it so and acted accordingly.” You trace the figure of the yin-yang on the hem of your sleeve. “This image is deceptive because it cannot be depicted in motion. In truth, the wheel is always spinning, dark chasing light chasing dark in an endless cosmic dance of rising and falling. They are not enemies; they are reflections of each other, only definable in relation to the other. Without the light there can be no darkness. Without the darkness, there can be no light.”

Dooku blinks at you several times, staring at you silently for long enough you begin to wonder if you’ve broken his brain. After some time passes, he finally finds his voice again. “Thank you for your insight, lady Knight. You make a great deal of sense and wisdom for one so young.”

You dip your head in a respectful bow, absentmindedly wondering how the ripples of this conversation will shape the universe around you. “It is an honor to meet and speak with you, Master Dooku. Thank you for allowing me to discuss my culture.”

Dooku bows to you in return. “The honor is all mine, young Jedi. I believe there is much you can teach us. I hope we might speak of this again at greater length in the future, perhaps on our return to Coruscant.”

What did I just get myself into? you wonder. And, is that his way of asking for a ride? “Certainly, Master Dooku. I would be happy to.”

Leaving Tatooine turns out to be harder than you thought. As you’ve gone about your day, making the preparations for leaving, your mind and heart keep reminding you this is likely the last time you’ll be here, the last time you’ll see many of these people. Every time this awareness arises, you pause and look around you, stopping to soak in your surroundings one last time. For all the pain and suffering you’ve witnessed here, Tatooine has begun to feel like it’s your home as much as Anakin’s. After all, this planet is the only place in the Star Wars galaxy where people know you. Preparing to leave here has served as a painfully potent reminder this is not your galaxy.

You’re standing off to the side in the grand hallway, appreciating the floor tiles for a final time when the sound of footsteps causes you to look up. Kenobi and Padmé approach you, an odd pair to be sure. Padmé looks like a disappointed mother. Kenobi looks like a guilty child.

“Master Kenobi has some things he needs to tell you,” Padmé says, her tone of voice matching her appearance perfectly. “I volunteered to come with him so he could fulfill his duties as my bodyguard and you wouldn’t have to be alone with him.” Her eyes search yours, checking to make sure you’ll be alright.

You smile, blinking back a sudden fondness for her. “Thank you, Senator.”

“Call me Padmé, please.” Padmé smiles at you, nodding her head towards the other end of the hallway. “I’ll be over there if you need me.” She picks a spot along the wall, watching with her arms crossed, still looking like a stern parent.

Kenobi approaches you, watching his feet as he walks. When he looks up, his expression says he’d rather be anywhere else in the galaxy. “I owe you an apology, my lady.”

You stare at him for a moment, uncertain how to respond. Taking a deep, calming breath, you summon your one white stone. “Okay…”

Kenobi sighs, looking like a toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I behaved inappropriately. I should not have kissed you without your consent. I acted impulsively and in a manner unbecoming a Jedi Knight. I apologize, my lady. I plan to report my actions to the Council when we return to Coruscant.”

Behind him, Padmé the hawk watches.

You study Kenobi for a moment, wondering what the hell got into him to be behaving so strangely since arriving on Tatooine. “Thank you for your apology and your accountability. I am curious, however, as to what prompted your actions?”

Kenobi squirms, looking down at the floor. “I thought… I assumed…” His voice trails off into silence. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. I still should have asked.”

Frowning, you wonder what he was about to say. “You thought what?”

Kenobi sighs again, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “Back on Ansion, I thought I felt attraction from you. And then when you woke up on Coruscant, you seemed happy to see me and glad I was still with you. When you said my name, I thought…”

Your mind flashes back to the hospital room on Coruscant. 

Continuing to smile, you decide to play along. “Lead the way, Master Kenobi.”

“Oh, I’m not a Master yet, but thank you, my lady.” Kenobi flashes you one of his million-dollar smiles, and you shake your head, reminding yourself it’s just a character. This guy isn’t actually flirting with you. Is he?

Belatedly, you realize how your playful tone of voice could have been mistaken for flirting. To be fair, at the time you thought you were playing an elaborate live-action cosplay. You weren’t thinking about the fact that he hadn’t introduced himself to you yet and how your genuine fangirling would be interpreted by the most flirtatious Knight in the Jedi Order; a Knight who thought highly enough of himself to chase Jango Fett to Kamino and Geonosis without any backup.

Understanding dawns, shedding a beam of light on his previously obscure motivations. “You thought I had a crush on you.”

Kenobi blushes. “I did. When I arrived you were acting so differently towards me. And then…” he looks at the floor. “I had too much to drink and Anakin kissed Padmé and I thought, if he was going to take a chance, maybe I would too.”

Something about Kenobi’s energy seems off. You don’t know him as well as you know Anakin, or even really at all as a person and not a character, but his apology feels more like his accounting to Luke about his father’s death than it does the complete truth. Your gut says there’s an aspect of the situation he isn’t telling you. His story doesn’t explain his acrimonious relationship with Padmé or why he unloaded on Anakin. You decide to take a page out of Master Yoda’s book. “And?”

“And?” Kenobi looks up at you, startled.

You stare him down. “What is the emotion you’re denying that is causing you to explode upon others?”

Kenobi swallows, silent for several long minutes. His voice is quiet when he finally answers. “Anger.”

“Why are you angry, Obi-Wan?” you ask.

“Because Master Dooku was right.” His voice cracks, full of emotion. “I’m a failure as a Padawan and a Master. I allowed my Master to be cut down in front of me because I wasn’t fast enough. I allowed my Padawan to be captured, reenslaved, and nearly killed because I wasn’t there for him when he needed me most. Even the Council knows I’m a failure; that is why they assigned Anakin to you.”

Your gut says there’s still part of the picture missing but maybe it’s because he doesn’t know you and this is already a pretty vulnerable conversation for him to be having. You have to admit that two or three months on Naboo followed by a month on Tatooine could very well have triggered his trauma over seeing Qui-Gon cut down before him and not being able to do anything about it. And arriving on Tatooine to learn everything Anakin had been through probably only added salt to his open wound. Maybe that’s what he’s hiding; his guilt over using anger (and by extension the dark side) to beat Maul a decade ago. Maybe that’s part of why he kissed you; an unconscious attempt at self-sabotage so the Council could finally punish him for his transgressions. Or maybe kissing you was simply a manifestation of his all-too-human need for emotional intimacy and a safe outlet for all of the trauma and emotional distress he’s been experiencing. As a man raised in a culture of toxic stoicism, physical intimacy probably seemed like his only option for receiving comfort. The longer you think about his actions, the more they seem like a desperate cry for help. Realizing you’ve been quiet for long enough, you speak, deliberately choosing the compassionate approach. “The Council assigned Anakin to me to protect me and keep him away from Padmé. If anyone is at fault for allowing Anakin to be in harm’s way, it is me and me alone. As his acting Master, I chose poorly.”

Kenobi shakes his head. “I have only known you for a short time, my lady, but I believe you meant well.”

“Thank you. As for your Master,” you pause for a moment, realizing you can’t admit you know exactly what happened. “You were the student. It was your Master’s job to protect you and it sounds as if they did just that. They died so you might live another day. I am certain if they were here they would tell you as much. It is the Master’s fate to die and leave their Padawan behind. I am sorry it was traumatic for you, but it was not your fault. It was the fault of whomever cut them down.”

Kenobi blinks at you, looking for a moment as if he is about to cry. Then the emotion passes. “Thank you, my lady.”

Chapter Text

The only thing more interesting than being in hyperspace with one potential Sith Lord is traveling in hyperspace with one potential Sith Lord and one actual Sith Lord. Fortunately for you, neither of them knows what you know, so your journey to Coruscant looks more like an intensive Jedi training retreat than Sith therapy. Unfortunately for you, this particular training means being under the careful scrutiny of Dooku in his guise as Jedi Master and Council member.

“I am most curious as to how you came to be on Tatooine in the first place.” Dooku stares at you both, wearing his patient grandfather expression.

Beside you, Anakin freezes.

You, meanwhile, start quietly panicking, grabbing your one white stone as your mind races. What do I tell him? If I say I had a Force vision, he might believe me, but then Sidious may also find out. And given how Sifo-Dyas died, I really don’t want Old Palpy to know I have visions. If I say we came to Tatooine for Anakin’s mental health, he’s going to want to know more, which gives Palpy more ways to manipulate Anakin.

Dooku waits calmly, watching you both.

After several uncomfortable moments, Anakin caves. “It’s my fault, Master,” he blurts out. “I needed to see my mother.”

Damnit, Anakin. As much as you appreciate and love his loyalty to you, sometimes you wish he’d let you handle things. Like negotiating with Sith Lords, for example. Please just shut up. Better yet, stop talking to Sith Lords. 

Dooku narrows his eyes, looking back and forth between the two of you. “Is this true?”

You have the uncanny feeling he’s a curious scientist peeling back the layers of your disguise to see what you really are underneath. Sensing Dooku doesn’t believe Anakin, you shake your head. “Not entirely, Master. I felt the Force call me to Tatooine. While we were there, I decided we should visit Anakin’s mother.”

“I see.” Dooku continues looking between the two of you before he pauses, focusing his attention on Anakin. “Your loyalty to your friend and mentor is commendable, young Skywalker. However, if you are going to lie, best get your stories straight beforehand. The Council will want to know the same things I am asking you. I suggest you prepare yourself for this eventuality.”

Anakin swallows, looking guilty. “Yes, sir.”

“So the Force called you to Tatooine where you visited with Skywalker’s mother,” Dooku recaps. “Then what happened?”

“We learned a slave liberation group conspired to free and recruit my mother,” Anakin answers.

“And then?” Dooku prompts.

“They needed help improving a device I invented. So I tweaked the design and then we tested it.” Anakin’s tone of voice is completely nonchalant, despite describing a situation which could have killed any number of people.

“I see,” Dooku comments, watching you while Anakin talks. “And then?”

“We freed some slaves,” Anakin replies.

Dooku raises an eyebrow, still looking at you. “I assume, based on your speech to Kenobi, this was your idea, Lady Bari?”

You nod. “It was.”

Dooku purses his lips. “While I appreciate and happen to agree with your morals, did it ever occur to you to consider the possible ramifications for your actions or seek backup before you engaged in an act of espionage against a foreign government?”

You bite your lip, thinking back to the moment in the homestead when you said nothing could be more important than freeing the slaves of Tatooine. You had been so focused on saving Anakin that you hadn’t really stopped to think things through. “No,” you admit. “I knew they could capture or kill us but I thought being Jedi would protect us from any serious harm.”

Dooku sighs, slowly shaking his head. “My lady, I understand being raised as a Jedi Youngling shelters you from certain…painful realities. As a Knight, however, you should know the truths of the galaxy, one of which being people in power like to wield their power in especially harmful ways to those they perceive as weaker.” He pauses for a moment, as if considering his next words carefully.

Beside you, Anakin shifts his position slightly, stiffening up as though preparing himself for what is next.

Dooku continues. “To be blunt, my lady, slavery is never a pleasant experience. Slavery as a young woman however, has slightly different potential consequences than it does for men. Do you understand?”

You frown, recalling the enslavement registry and how its population distribution mirrored your initial assessment of the slave subfloor; the only young women of most of the species, especially human and Twi’leks, were in the whirlee. You think about Seer’aa and Teer’aa and the other whirlee children, how they all shared similar coloration with Dinek, even the lone human child. You remember how Daesha walked so stiffly into the whirlee room, plastered in makeup, a scarf around her throat. You remember how Anakin spoke up on your behalf, willingly taking lashes to ensure you became a guard instead of a dancing girl. You remember Gardulla’s threat to give you to Sebulba as a gift if Anakin lost the podrace. You remember your hands covered in blood and the sight of corpses surrounding you. A profound sense of awareness hits you over the head with a clue-by-four. The puzzle pieces fall into place in your mind, revealing an obvious picture of the forest you had refused to see while deep in the trees. Yes, this is Star Wars, but it’s now your reality; a reality inhabited by real people with real feelings and some truly horrifying consequences for failure just as there are in your world. This is the really real world. There ain’t no coming back. A sudden surge of gratitude and guilt washes over you with your newfound appreciation of all the ways Anakin protected you in the palace. How he’s still trying to protect you. 

Realizing Dooku is waiting for you to speak, you answer him. “Yes, Master.”

Dooku nods. “Good. For what it is worth, I am proud of you both for following your hearts and listening to the will of the Force. You performed a vital act of service for the betterment of the galaxy and did so at great personal risk, the mark of a true Jedi. You also survived a difficult challenge by working together as a team, for which you should be praised. However, as Jedi, you are members of a much larger unit than just yourselves. In the future, I would like to see you extend this extraordinary trust you placed in each other to other members of the Jedi Order, such as myself and Master Yoda.”

Dooku turns his attention to Anakin. “Although his methodology leaves much to be desired, it is clear to me that Obi-Wan acted out of concern for your wellbeing, Anakin.”

Anakin laughs. “That’s nice of you to say, Master Dooku, but you don’t know Obi-Wan like I do.”

You hate to admit it, but Dooku has a point. “I know it might be hard to believe, Anakin, but Master Dooku is right,” you admit. “Kenobi said so himself when he apologized to me.”

Anakin looks as though you could knock him over with a feather. “Wait, Obi-Wan actually apologized?”

“He did,” you confirm. “He admitted to being overwhelmed by feelings of anger and guilt over Qui-Gon’s death. He was scared of losing you and being helpless to do anything to save the most important person in his world. Again.”

Anakin blinks, poleaxed. “But he’s always yelling at me.”

“Because he’s scared he’s failing you, Anakin,” you explain. “From what Master Dooku told me, Qui-Gon was as unconventional as you are. Obi-Wan’s need for control is likely exacerbated by his fear of seeing you die like his Master did.”

A tidal wave of conflicting emotions washes over you. Understanding. Guilt. Hope. Confusion. You realize, if you’re feeling Anakin’s emotions, he’s probably not great at mental shielding. If he’s going to be spending time with Dooku, or Force forbid, run into Palpatine, learning to shield his thoughts is absolutely necessary.

Damnit, Anakin, have you really not been shielding this whole time? I know you don’t know he’s a Sith Lord but he’s a Sith Lord! How much does he know about you now? One white stone.

Dooku studies him for a moment before turning to you. “As a Jedi with a Padawan, you must consider your Padawan’s safety and wellbeing first. Not only did you risk great harm to yourself but also to your Padawan.”

“But what else were we supposed to do, Master Dooku? Ask for permission from the Council?” Anakin frowns.

You notice his outburst is smaller than the one he had with Yoda.

Dooku nods. “You make a fair point, young Skywalker. Clearly, the Jedi Council have failed to inculcate a sense of trust in you and that is their failure as mentors and leaders of the Order.”

Anakin stares openly at Dooku in shock.

Dooku smiles at him, his grandfather vibe in full force. “I can only hope in time I will be able to earn your trust and the next time the two of you decide to take matters into your own hands you will ask for my help.”

Not likely, you think to yourself. Not until you prove we can trust you, Darth Tyrannus. One white stone.

Dooku frowns, studying the two of you for a moment. “If Kenobi is your Knight, why are you traveling in the company of Knight Bari?”

“Master Yoda assigned me to her service until Obi-Wan completes his current mission.” Anakin’s tone of voice reveals he’s still bitter about this decision.

Dooku’s frown deepens. “And why is that?”

Anakin shifts uncomfortably. “Master Yoda said he needed someone to protect Indra.”

Dooku arches an eyebrow and looks at you. “Why does a Jedi knight need a bodyguard?”

Worried about Anakin answering, you speak first. “When I first arrived on Coruscant I was suffering from frequent fainting spells.”

Dooku looks unconvinced. “I see.” He shifts his attention to Anakin, abruptly changing topic. “How did you wind up as Kenobi’s Padawan in the first place? Your personalities are poorly suited to one another.”

“He was there with Master Qui-Gon when he died,” Anakin answers. “Master Qui-Gon made him promise to train me.”

Dooku’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “I take it Qui-Gon found you?”

“Master Qui-Gon, Padmé and Jar Jar came to my master’s … I mean Watto’s shop looking for spare parts for their J-type 327 Nubian, but they didn’t have enough money for a T-14 hyperdrive generator.” Anakin rattles off the details as though he has them burned into his memory. Knowing him, he probably does.

And now he’s making friends with another Sith Lord. Destiny struggles to reassert the pattern that was meant to be. You sigh mentally, watching as Anakin tells his life story to yet another Sith Lord. One white stone.

 “So I volunteered to help them. I had a podracer I built out of spare parts. Master Qui-Gon convinced Watto it was his and to let me be the racer. I won the race and my freedom. Master Qui-Gon got his ship parts. The Sith Lord chased us to the ship. We went to Coruscant and saw the Council. They said I was too old to be trained. We went back to Naboo with Padmé and fought in the war there and Master Qui-Gon died. Then Obi-Wan told the Council he was going to train me and they agreed.”

Dooku continues studying Anakin. “Do you know why Qui-Gon was so insistent on training you?”

“He told the Council he believed I was the Chosen One,” Anakin replies.

“Do you know why he thought that?” Dooku asks.

Anakin shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe because I had a high midichlorian count and no father?”

“I see.” Dooku’s tone of voice and eyebrow positioning says he has an issue with something. “Thank you, young Skywalker.”

You imagine Dooku’s disapproval is with the Council. You’re kinda curious to see how his disappointment in them plays out. 

After your discussion with Dooku, you pull Anakin aside. “Anakin, do you know how to mentally shield?”

Anakin frowns, looking at you in confusion. “No?”

You fight to keep your face neutral. “We should work on that then.”

“But why?” Anakin looks and sounds entirely unconcerned.

“One, because you never know when a Sith Lord is around. Two, because you don’t want Jedi listening in on your thoughts either.”

Anakin laughs. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sure there aren’t any Sith Lords on the ship with us right now.”

Oh, Anakin. If only. You shake your head, biting back the sarcasm. Technically one and a half Sith Lords are aboard your vessel, but who’s counting? “Which makes it the perfect place to practice,” you say with a smile.

Anakin rolls his eyes. “Also, why am I trying to hide my thoughts from other Jedi?”

Feeling frustrated, you look him dead in the eyes, unable to resist the urge to be a little bit petty. After all, he’s the one who abandoned you for a month so he could go follow Padmé around like a lost puppy. “So no one else hears the things you think about Senator Amidala when you look at her.”

Anakin turns several shades of red, looking as if he wishes he were invisible right about now. “Good point. So, mental shielding. How do I do that?”

You hide a grin, feeling slightly guilty for your duplicity. On the other hand, if letting him think you know what he thinks about Padmé is the incentive he needs to learn how to protect himself from Palpatine, it’s worth it. “There are many techniques for mental shielding, each unique to the mind of the individual. I can teach you what works for me, but please feel free to adapt this to your own comfort. Mental shielding works best when you pick a focus that vibes with you.”

“Vibes with me?” Anakin raises an eyebrow in confusion.

“Fits your personality,” you explain. “You begin by focusing on your breath. Take three deep cleansing breaths, imagining you are breathing in calm and out stress.”

You wait, watching him as he does so. When he’s finished, you continue. “Now focus on your Force energy and collect it into a ball of whatever color suits you. Bring that ball to your mind and expand it until it forms an energy shield.”

“Alright,” Anakin says after a moment or two. “Is that all?”

“I like to add an extra layer to mine,” you reply. “I have a white stone I stared at until I memorized it. I summon the mental image of my stone, either placing my thoughts inside of it, or in the recesses of my mind so that the front of my mind is nothing but a white stone. So if my shields fail, all they will hear or see is my stone.”

Anakin nods thoughtfully. “And I should focus on this every morning during meditation?”

“Yes.” You nod. “And every time you are speaking to someone. Eventually, it will become a reflex. Though I must warn you, in times of high emotion you will need to focus more carefully, otherwise your shields will fail and any Force sensitive who is nearby or connected to you could potentially hear your thoughts.”

Just as you discovered Anakin’s weak spot was mental shielding, Dooku quickly discovers yours is lightsaber sparring. He runs both you and Anakin through a series of drills, testing your skills in a range of areas, culminating — of course — with his specialty: lightsaber dueling. Luckily for you, you’ve attended enough lightsaber form workshops and impromptu training sessions with friends that when he asks you to demonstrate the forms, you actually can. Unfortunately for you, this is the first time in your life you’ve held a real lightsaber and the fear of burning yourself is a little more intense than you had imagined. Intellectually, you know you turned the dial down to what should be the stun setting. Emotionally, losing your hand in combat to either Darth Vader or Darth Tyrannus is also one of your childhood fears.

Mindful of your advice to Anakin, you reinforce your mental shielding and summon your white stone as you square up with Anakin, preparing to duel. You each stand with your sabers ignited, waiting for Dooku’s command.

“You may begin.”

Anakin immediately comes at you, swinging his blue blade in a blur as he spins and twirls. Familiar with his use of Form V, you move into Form III and take a defensive stance. Anakin dances towards you and you slip to the side, knowing he’s about to shift back into a defensive position. After a brief moment, he shifts to the offensive and attacks again. You dodge a second time, spinning to the side. Anakin retreats and then attacks another time. This time he moves too quickly for you to dodge and so you block instead. The clash of his blue blade against your green one is mildly terrifying for the briefest of heartbeats and then it becomes exhilarating.

You grin and plant your legs, leaning into a relaxed ready pose. This time, you bring your blade up to meet his without any hesitation, expecting the force of the reverberation as it vibrates through your arms. Anakin speeds up, pressing the attack until your arms ache. He comes in for a strike one more time and you manage to mostly block, but his blade slips, sliding down yours. His blade connects with your wrist and you swear it has electric teeth filled with fire ants that swarm up the length of your arm until it goes numb. You fumble, dropping your saber. It extinguishes and rolls across the shuttle’s deck.

Anakin looks guilty. “I’m sorry,” he says as he hands you your saber hilt.

Dooku sighs. “I can see we have some work to do.”

Dooku’s observation is how you wind up spending most of your waking hours sparring with Anakin under Dooku’s tutelage while the latter calls out advice like, “raise your elbow” or “move faster.” With any luck, by the time you reach Coruscant, you’ll actually be proficient. 

Chapter Text

You barely have time to stow your small but growing collection of personal belongings (namely your fan, armor, and formal robes) in your quarters and take a shower before the Jedi High Council summons you. Entering the circular Council room with Anakin, you see Kenobi and Padmé have arrived before you and now stand inside, waiting. Anakin decides to stand next to Kenobi. You place yourself on Anakin’s other side. Part of you finds Padmé’s presence odd, but then you remember her parting words to Dooku, who - true to his word - sits among the Council members.

‘One white stone,’ you mentally remind Anakin before taking a deep breath, reinforcing your mental shielding and summoning your own white stone.

“Know why you have been summoned here, do you?” Master Yoda asks, officially signaling the start of the inquest.

“Yes, Master Yoda.” Kenobi answers first. “We are prepared to give our briefings and accept your punishment.”

Gotta love how he answered for all of us, you think, more than irritated by his presumption. But then, that was probably his attempt at clueing Anakin into the reality of our situation.

“Very well, Knight Kenobi, why don’t you go first?” Master Shaak-Ti sits with her hands folded in front of her.

“While on Naboo guarding Senator Amidala, I received a distress call from Shmi Skywalker-Lars asking for my assistance in freeing my Padawan from Hutt custody,” Kenobi reports.

Hutt ‘custody.’ You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the euphemism.

Kenobi continues. “We arrived on Tatooine to find my Padawan and Knight Bari had successfully staged a slave revolt resulting in the death of Gardulla and the flight of Jabba. Hearing this, Senator Amidala felt it her duty to assist the people of Tatooine in drafting a representative democracy. I guarded her while she did so. Unfortunately, at the end of our time on Tatooine, I allowed my feelings to cloud my judgment and I kissed Knight Bari without her consent. I realize this mistake is a serious matter. I have already apologized to Knight Bari for my misbehavior and am willing to accept your punishment.”

“A serious matter indeed.” Master Billaba turns to you, a look of concern on her face. “What punishment would satisfy your need for justice in this situation, Knight Bari?”

You pause for a moment, considering her question. On the one hand, you feel pretty confident both your slap and your words taught Kenobi a lesson he won’t soon forget, if the nasty-looking bruise on his cheek is anything to go by. On the other hand, this is your opportunity to change things for the better. “I would like Kenobi to be assigned a therapy droid to assist him in processing his emotions and learning better coping mechanisms.”

“Those are for hospital patients and war veterans,” Kenobi objects. “I hardly think my situation qualifies.”

You take a deep breath, aware of the sudden surge of burning anger rising within you. I’m trying to help you, asshole. “With all due respect, Knight Kenobi, I believe watching your Master be cut down in front of you qualifies as a war trauma. Unless you are arguing the Jedi are not at war with the Sith.”

Dooku narrows his eyes, pinning Kenobi in place with his gaze. “Knight Bari is correct. Either you acted from a place of heightened emotional distress and you would benefit from the services of an emotional support droid, or you deliberately assaulted a fellow Jedi and need to spend some time alone in a detention cell to meditate on the seriousness of your actions and the root cause thereof.”

Damn, Dooku, I almost respect you right now, you think, uncertain of how to feel about having a Sith Lord on your side. I need to talk to Master Yoda and tell him about Dooku, you think. 

“Yes, Master Dooku.” Kenobi hangs his head. “Perhaps a therapy droid would be helpful.”

Windu turns his attention to Padmé. “Senator Amidala, I understand there is a matter you wished to discuss with us?”

“Yes, thank you, Master Windu.” Padmé steps forward, glaring at Dooku. “As a citizen and sitting Senator of the Republic, I am troubled by the presence of a Separatist leader among your ranks. Some might misinterpret this development as a sign of the Jedi’s waning loyalty to the Republic.”

Damn, Padmé, that was cold, you think, reinforcing your mental shielding and refocusing on your one white stone

“Appreciate your concern, we do.” Yoda smiles kindly at Padmé. “But a separate and impartial body, the Jedi are. Beholden to the Republic, we are not.”

“I believe what Master Yoda is trying to say is that the Jedi Order does not control the political views of our membership, my lady.” Windu steeples his fingers together as he speaks. “Although the rest of this Council believes serving the Senate to be the best way we can assist the people of the Republic, our esteemed colleague, Master Dooku, feels otherwise, as is his right.”

Windu has a point. As long as a Jedi follows the Code and the laws of the Republic, they are allowed to have a wide variety of political opinions.

Padmé shakes her head. “How can the people of the Republic possibly trust the Jedi Order when your highest governing body allows a traitor to sit in their midst?”

Ouch, Padmé. You look at Dooku to see how he’ll handle her remark. 

Dooku narrows his eyes, a furrow appearing between his brows. “It may interest you to know, Senator , that the Jedi Order is a religious body and, as such, is neither beholden nor subject to the purview of the Senate. The separation of Order and Senate exists for a reason. States exist entirely to protect and serve their people. When the State is given the power and authority to control the personal views of any citizen, that State has become a tyranny and must be abolished for the good of the people. We do not need you to trust us; our duty is to the will of the Force and the collective greater good of all living beings. As for your baseless accusation of betrayal, I would be interested to know whom, exactly, you believe I have betrayed? The people of my planet, who democratically chose to secede from the Republic? The Jedi Order who respects and values my presence enough to invite my return to the Council?”

I dunno, you think. As much as he makes a solid point about the role of government being to ensure the safety and wellbeing of its citizens, he is technically a traitor to the Jedi Order, having broken both the laws of the Republic and the Jedi Code. How about Master Sifo-Dyas and Master Yaddle? I’m pretty sure you betrayed them. But Padmé doesn’t know that. And even though I know about their murders, there’s literally no way to prove your involvement in either.

Padmé glares back. “You have betrayed the Republic, Count Dooku.”

“By serving the will of the people who elected me?” Dooku tilts his head, wearing his exhausted professor face. “If dedicating my life to following the commands of my constituents is a betrayal of the Senate, then the Senate betrayed my people first. And if we, as elected officials and public servants, are more beholden to a corrupt system than  those we represent, then you are the first among us to have betrayed the Republic by waging a war. A war, might I remind you, which you survived only because of the aid of the Jedi Order. Without our assistance, you would be under the rule of the Trade Federation.”

“Who are your political allies, might I remind you.” Padmé uses her stone-cold, Ice Queen voice.

“Are you implying the Jedi Order is not allowed to remain neutral?” Dooku asks. “Does the Senate now require us to be soldiers and warlords? If you cannot make peace with the Confederacy or negotiate a two-state solution, are the Jedi now to sacrifice our lives on the altar of your war? Is this how you would have us serve the people? By burning homes and destroying planets?”

Dooku has a point. The Republic Senate does want the Jedi to act as soldiers. 

On the other side of Anakin and Kenobi, Padmé fumes. You swear you can feel her anger.

“What I would like to know is why you are even here and what purpose your presence serves?” Dooku’s tone is every bit as sharp as Padmé’s is cold. “Are you now a Jedi?”

Padmé opens her mouth to speak but Windu interjects, stretching out a hand in a gesture of cessation, physically warding off the argument Padmé is about to make. “I believe what my colleague is trying to say, my lady, is that we appreciate your concern. However, as a member of the Senate, we don’t owe you any explanation for our decisions. Unless you have evidence Master Dooku has broken the Jedi Code or the laws of the Republic, our business with you is concluded. You may wait outside until Knight Kenobi is dismissed.”

Padmé turns on her heel and stalks out of the Council Chambers.

Damnit, Padmé. As much as you appreciate her chutzpah and willingness to stand up to the Order and speak her mind, her actions have made telling Yoda about Dooku all the more difficult for you. Without any proof, your words will look like more baseless accusations.

Beside you,  Anakin stiffens. 

Stay calm, Anakin. You can do this.

Master Yoda looks at you. “Curious to know why you went to Tatooine, we are.”

You take a deep breath, mentally visualizing your white stone, hoping Anakin sticks to your agreement to remain calm and let you do most of the talking. “I felt called by the Force.”

“Are you typically called by the Force?” Windu looks and sounds suspicious.

“Sometimes.” You shrug.

Windu looks at Anakin. “Is this true, Skywalker?”

“Yes,” Anakin replies. “Knight Bari was walking down the hallway when she suddenly stopped and said we needed to go to Tatooine.”

“What did you find on Tatooine?” Master Billaba asks.

“A pair of Force-sensitive twins,” you reply. “They are currently with their mother and their Senator.”

“Is this how you came to be involved in a slave revolt?” Master Shaak-Ti asks.

“Not exactly,” you reply. “But they were among the formerly enslaved individuals the revolt freed.”

“Not exactly?” Windu gives you a look. “What exactly did happen? Enlighten us.”

“While on Tatooine, we encountered a slave liberation group who needed technical assistance. I then felt certain the Force had called me to Tatooine to assist them in their mission, so we did. At some point, Gardulla captured us and I decided the Force was giving us an opportunity to free all of the enslaved at once. Which is exactly what we did.”

“Is this true, Skywalker?” Windu asks.

Anakin nods. “Pretty much.”

“You are aware your actions could have gotten you and Skywalker killed?” Master Koon asks.

“I am.” You nod. “Master Dooku informed me of the many ways our actions could have gone wrong.”

“Including the political ramifications?” Master Windu uses his ‘I’m annoyed with you and think you’re stupid’ voice.

“Yes.” You stare back at him.

Master Shaak-Ti looks at you. “Why didn’t you ask for help?”

You turn to look at her. “Would you have sent it? If Anakin and I had commed and informed the Council, can you honestly say you would have sent us aid instead of ordering us to return?”

“So what you’re saying is,” Master Windu says, pointing at you, “you knew we would object and chose to act against our wishes anyway.”

Anakin finally fails his willpower roll. “No, we decided it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

You sigh mentally. You were doing so well, Anakin. “I chose to act in accordance with the will of the Force, which supersedes the will of the Council, unless you are instructing me otherwise. Is that what you are telling me, Master Windu? Are you saying I should obey the whims of the Council over the urging of my own conscience and the will of the Force?”

Windu glares at you. “You cannot conflate your own desires with the will of the Force, young Knight. How do you know it was the will of the Force and not your own ego?”

“Three reasons,” you reply. “One, the Jedi Order and the Republic both thought slavery was morally reprehensible enough to warrant going to war against the Zygerrian Empire not that long ago. Two, my actions resulted in finding and freeing two Force-sensitive children. Three, I chose to serve peace and justice over corruption and political expediency.”

Master Yoda gives you a meaningful look. “Caused problems for the Order, your actions have.”

“With all due respect, Master Yoda, my actions prevented more problems for the Order than you understand. The twins I found are a pair of female Twi’leks born inside a Hutt harem. How long do you think it would have taken before one or both of them killed someone in self defense using the Force? And once they had discovered Force-assisted murder was possible, do you really think they would have ever stopped? Even if this Council doesn’t possess the wisdom to realize slavery is morally reprehensible and peace requires justice, you must realize allowing injustice to persist under your noses is merely creating a breeding ground for Sith apprentices? If we truly want to prevent Force users from falling to the dark side and the Sith from taking over the galaxy, we should be doing our absolute best to ensure justice and equity for all of the galaxy’s inhabitants, not just those with the privilege of credits and power. Suffering is an incubator for hatred. If this Order can’t realize the sheer tactical stupidity of allowing widespread misery to persist, we don’t deserve to survive a war with the Sith; we have already lost.”

Sparked by your words, the Council immediately erupts into heated discourse, multiple Jedi Masters competing to be heard over the sudden cacophony. Master Yoda attempts to regain control over the assembly, raising his voice louder and louder. Finally he raps his gimer stick on the edge of his chair. 

“Enough! Quiet, you shall be!” When the room has fallen silent, he speaks in his normal tone. “Given us much to think about, you have. For now, to detention please report. Discuss this, we shall. Of our verdict, we will inform you.”

You turn and leave the Council Chambers, as do Anakin and Kenobi.

The latter stops you outside the doors. “Thank you, my lady.”

“For what?” You notice Anakin has stopped walking as well, standing nearby, watching Kenobi as though he’s your bodyguard. Which, technically, he kinda is.

“For not asking for a harsher punishment.” Kenobi actually looks and sounds contrite.

You nod. “You have the capacity to be a wise Jedi, Obi-Wan. I hope you learn from this experience and grow into the kind Jedi your Master believed you have the potential to be.”

Anakin rolls his eyes.

“Thank you, my lady.” Kenobi bows, voice thick with emotion. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a Senator to find.”

Kenobi leaves and Anakin falls into step beside you, matching his pace to yours. “Why did I let you do all the talking? We’re still headed for detention.”

You give him a sidelong look out of the corner of your eye. “Because right now it’s me they’re upset with, not you. They don’t know this involves your family and you aren’t in any real trouble. The worst thing that could happen is they’ll decide I’m a bad influence on you; in which case, they’ll send you back to Obi-Wan and you can keep following Padmé around.”

Anakin turns to stare at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You keep walking, looking straight ahead. “What happened to ‘we’re in this together,’ Anakin? The Senator shows up and suddenly you forget I exist, not just as your Knight, but as your friend. Kenobi assaults me on the dance floor and it’s your girlfriend who winds up checking on me and calming me down. Then, you just take off and leave me alone again afterwards. You didn’t even bother to ask if I was alright.”

“My girlfriend?” Anakin sputters. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Fine, your future wife,” you say acidly, rolling your eyes, immediately wishing you could take the words back.

“Wait, what?” Anakin stops walking. 

You freeze, realizing you’ve kriffed up. Heart racing, you look at him and give him a disappointed look, hoping he’ll interpret your words on his own and save you the nightmare of explaining yourself.

Anakin, predictably, is neither a Master nor even a Padawan of subtlety. “No, really. What do you mean my future wife? Do we actually get married? What did you see?” he asks, excited.

The odd twisting in your gut reappears, tiny krayt dragons burrowing through your intestines as they come to feast on your heart. He’s so fixated on her, he hasn’t even acknowledged his behavior. Unwilling to stay and allow him to witness the tears pouring from your eyes, you bolt away from Skywalker as quickly as you can, leaving him behind to ponder his fate. 

Chapter Text

You reach the detention block far before Anakin, handing over your commlink, phone, and lightsaber to the Temple Guard before being escorted to your cell. Unlike the cell you remember from Clone Wars, your cell holds two beds and a fresher closet. A red force field replaces the metal door from Ahsoka’s cell. Overwhelmed by your current emotional state, you disregard these details and sit down on the bed, drawing your legs up to meditate.

You begin by focusing on your breath, counting into a calming square until your heart rate slows. You’ve finally reached the point where your entire body has relaxed, your mind on the precipice of alpha waves when you hear the sound of the forcefield deactivating and a familiar cadence of footsteps enters the room. A brief pang of irritation flares in your awareness. You refuse, pushing away from exterior reality as though you are on a diving board, leaping over the edge and down into a deeper meditative trance.

You enter the gate of your mind palace, pausing before all the security features you imagined when you built this place another lifetime ago. As paranoid as doing so might have appeared to an outside observer, you’re hit by a wave of profound gratitude for your past self as you pass through multiple lines of defense and enter the stronghold you built to store your memories.

As soon as you cross the threshold, you immediately feel better, knowing yourself safe within the self-created structures of your mental landscape.

Allowing your feet to guide you, you wander to the library and sit in your favorite chair, the one you’ve created to be the ideal combination of comfort and support. Thus safely ensconced, you allow your mind to wander freely, holding space for your overstimulated and overwhelmed psyche to dump the information it's been collecting. A sequence of images flashes across your mental screen; memories of the battle for Gardulla’s palace. You watch as the scenes play out in your mind, observing the events and your reactions to them, holding space for the emotions which arise. Finally, the mental movie you’re viewing reaches the sequence where Kenobi and Padmé arrive.

As soon as they enter, Anakin’s entire demeanor changes, shifting from playful to serious, as though he’s desperately trying to prove his adulthood to Padmé. Right on cue, the twisting krayt dragon reappears in your guts, tunneling its way through your core as you monitor your thoughts and feelings. As you proceed through the memories, you notice the krayt dragon commonly occurs around Padmé, especially when Anakin forgets you exist.

Jealousy, you think, naming the emotion as you observe it slithering through your gut. Abandonment, disappointment, heartache. You continue monitoring your feelings, identifying each sensation as it arises. Your mental movie replay reaches the night of the party and dancing with Cobb, causing you to smile. It felt good to be noticed and appreciated for once, you realize. Although you never had any intention of pursuing anything serious with Cobb Vance, receiving attention from an available and attractive man was a healing balm on your wounded self-esteem. If you’re honest with yourself, you would much rather have danced with Anakin, just for the familiarity and comfort of spending time with the person you thought was your best friend.

The scene shifts, replaying your memory of dancing with Kenobi and you cringe, knowing what’s coming. Although you found him physically attractive when you first arrived, the reality of who he is in person is not as appealing. Reliving your strike against his cheek is altogether more satisfying than you care to admit. While you can understand his actions from a place of detached compassion, you feel proud of your impulse to stand up for yourself and completely justified in your response. 

Your mental movie continues playing, progressing to the point at which Dooku shows up. Of course he was the older man, you think. How could I have missed the clues? To be fair, I was expecting him to be on Geonosis, not Tatooine. You hadn’t yet witnessed such tangible evidence of your impact on the story. As you observe your responses, you realize you still aren’t sure how you feel about him. On the one hand, he’s Sidious’s current apprentice and responsible for the deaths of Master Sifo-Dyas and Master Yaddle. On the other hand, you know he left the Order after being forced to support tyrants imposing their will upon the already impoverished populace and then being told by the Council not to inform the people of another planet of an impending disaster, resulting in a catastrophic death toll. Of all the Sith Lords of his era, Dooku is an idealist who makes the wrong choices for the right reasons because he doesn’t see an alternative path. Judging from his emotional responses to your simple statements, he’s already contemplating other options. Perhaps with more time and effort, you can save him as well as Skywalker.

Anakin. Your heart spasms at the thought of his name and a wave of emotion crashes over you, a deluge of tears sweeping along in its wake. You’re distantly aware of the tears building up behind your eyelids, but you maintain your focus on your inner reality, faithfully observing and processing your feelings. As the sensation of sorrow sweeps through your awareness, you suddenly recognize what’s happened. Despite your best intentions otherwise, your parasocial attachment to Anakin Skywalker, the fictional character, has morphed into a personal attachment to Anakin Skywalker, the man. You’ve lost the distance between yourself and the action, overlooking the fact this isn’t your world.

You’ve grown so accustomed to thinking of Anakin as your Padawan and best friend - a steady, constant, reassuring presence in your life - you’ve forgotten you come from two different realities and likely have radically different ideas of friendship. His only model of adult friendship is his relationship with Obi-Wan, a bond built on criticism, judgment, and competition. Given how gentle and loyal he was to you up until Padmé’s arrival, he probably thinks he’s being a stellar friend to you in comparison to his relationship with Obi-Wan. Your problem is expecting your attachment to him to be reciprocated in the same manner and degree. The truth is, Anakin may not be attached to you at all. To you, he’s the Chosen One, your favorite Star Wars character come to life. To him, you’re a random Jedi who fell out of the sky one day. 

Your other problem is your failure to accurately predict Anakin’s behavior. You’ve become so invested in what you want him to do you’ve neglected to think about his behavior patterns and internal motivations. In thinking of him as Anakin, your best friend, you’ve become so entangled in your expectations you’ve forgotten he’s Anakin Skywalker - a hotheaded, impulsive Jedi who’s madly in love with Padmé. Truthfully, you should have expected him to behave exactly as he did, both when he risked enslavement and whip lashes to save you and when he picked Padmé over you twice. Although you have every right to be hurt by him ghosting you, Anakin probably doesn’t even realize that’s what he did. He’s being true to his own heart, just as you’re being true to yours. Unfortunately for you, Anakin doesn’t have the capacity to care for you the way you want, need, and deserve. The sooner you realize this fact, the less heartache you will experience in the long run.

Eventually, you finish processing all of your recent experiences and the associated emotional turbulence. You feel as though you have expanded around your sorrow, leaving behind an emptiness where turmoil and confusion once existed. Exiting your mind palace, you rise, returning to the surface of your mind. Taking a deep breath, you open your eyes, only to find two more rivulets of tears trapped behind your eyelids. They stream down your cheeks and you wipe them away with the hem of your sleeve. 

Skywalker leans against the wall across from you, staring at you. “You never answered my question, Indra! Do Padmé and I get married?”

You take a deep breath, summoning your one white stone. “Nor will I, Padawan Skywalker. As Master Yoda says, ‘always in motion, the future is.’”

Anakin’s eyes widen in shock as confusion blooms on his face.

“Now, if you don’t mind, Padawan, it’s been an exhausting day and I would like to rest.” You turn and lie down on the firm bench-like bed, your back to Skywalker as you close your eyes. Emotionally drained and completely spent, you quickly drift off to sleep.

You are awake the moment the Temple Guards deactivate the door, already rolling over and sitting up by the time they cross the threshold. “Time to get up, Council wants you,” one of them states.

You straighten your robes and smooth your hair, following your escorts back to the guard station, where your belongings are returned to you. 

Behind you, your Padawan rushes to catch up, falling into step beside you with an air of nervousness. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” you reply, continuing to walk.

“You seem mad,” he argues.

You look at him out of the corner of your eye. “What I am, Padawan, is eager to be finished speaking with the Council so I can have my breakfast.”

Skywalker lapses into an awkward silence, continuing to walk beside you until you reach an intersection in the hallway and pause, uncertain which path to take. He sighs and shakes his head, turning down the proper corridor and taking the lead. Grateful for his assistance, you trail him to the Council Chambers, where the Jedi Masters await you. You enter the circular room and take your place before them, heart pounding. 

“Reached a decision, the Council has,” Yoda greets you.

Your heart speeds up, a lump forming in your throat. Even if they kick me out, I will still be a Jedi. I have always been a Jedi, you reassure yourself.

Dooku and Windu exchange a silent look between them before the former speaks. “Your words and actions exhibit a great deal of wisdom for one so young. You have performed a necessary service for the people of Tatooine at great risk to yourself, displaying a level of moral character we wish to encourage within the ranks of the Jedi Order.”

Wait, are they actually praising me? Your brain stutters to a screeching halt as you struggle to process their words. 

“As such, it is the decision of this Council to grant you the rank of Master,” Windu adds. “You have shown tremendous courage and integrity by placing your loyalty and trust in the Force, even when doing so conflicted with the wishes of your superiors.”

Master?! Wait, what?!? You stare at them, completely gobsmacked and dumbfounded by their responses. Especially Windu’s. You could have sworn he hated you, but now he seems to be proud of you. 

“Reminded of us of our true duty, you have, young Master.” Yoda beams at you. “Hope you continue to lead with your heart, we do.”

Wait, seriously? What is even happening right now? 

Yoda, Windu, and Dooku all rise from their seats, moving in a regal and stately manner to stand in a solemn row. Seeing you frozen in shock, Skywalker nudges you with his elbow, gesturing with his head for you to approach the Council.

Heart racing, still reeling in surprise, you step forward and kneel before them.

“By the right of the Council,” Yoda intones.

“By the will of the Force,” Dooku adds.

“I name thee Master Jedi, guardian of peace and protector of the light.” Windu holds his saber carefully above one of your shoulders before arcing it over your head to almost touch the other. “Rise, Master Jedi.”

You do as he instructs, standing up slowly as your brain struggles to catch up with your reality. I’m actually a real Jedi, you think. A sudden surge of gratitude wells up within you, leaving you blinking away the tears.

Windu smiles at you. “It is also the decision of this Council to assign the mentorship and instruction of Padawan Anakin Skywalker to you on a permanent basis.” He drops his voice, adding a second bit obviously meant for your ears alone. “Your skill as a stabilizing influence on young Skywalker has not gone unnoticed; his disposition has improved greatly. Well done.”

If promoting you to the rank of Jedi Master wasn’t already enough to leave you reeling for days, Windu’s proclamation is the straw that almost breaks your composure. The only thing saving you from full-on waterworks is your conflicting emotions. On the one hand, receiving praise from Master Windu - especially after he was so critical before - feels like a huge personal victory. On the other hand, now you’re permanently stuck with Skywalker as your Padawan, and even worse - he’s going to be your roommate, too. 

Your Padawan sulks through breakfast, eating his food in silence. You feel somewhat relieved, still on uneasy footing as you work to navigate both your newfound need for emotional distance and your new official Jedi Order relationship. After breakfast, he grumpily heads for your (now) shared quarters while you go to speak with Master Yoda.

“Good to see you safe, it is,” Master Yoda greets you as you enter the room, a subtle reminder he had ordered you to stay safe.

“Thank you, Master Yoda.” You take a seat opposite him. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Wish to hear the full story of what happened, I do.” Master Yoda smiles at you, a patient look on his face.

“I went to Tatooine to prevent the rise of a powerful Sith Lord,” you reply.

“Succeed, did you?”

“I successfully prevented the event I foresaw from happening.” You aren’t honestly sure if you’ve successfully saved Skywalker, only that his mother still lives.

Master Yoda gives you a stern look. “Took a serious risk with your life, you did. Hope it was worth it, I do. In the future, more care, I wish you to take.”

“Yes, Master,” you say in response. After all, it’s not as if you can tell him you didn’t really think about the consequences. At the time, you were thinking this was Star Wars and you’d obviously live because none of this was entirely real to you yet. Only when you saw the blood on your hands did you realize how wrong you were.

“Still much to learn from you, there is. Lost with you, would your knowledge be,” he continues, reinforcing his point. “Found the Sith Lord who killed Qui-Gon, we did. And investigating the Chancellor, we are. But know the identity of the third Sith Lord, I do not.”

You pause, focusing on your one white stone while you consider what to tell him. As much as you want to inform Master Yoda, you also want to redeem Dooku and you know he needs his Master’s trust to be redeemed. You also need his support if you’re going to reform the Jedi Order and save them from what’s coming. Like it or not, your gut tells you you need Dooku. Damnit. You sigh, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Master Yoda. I don’t think I can tell you.”

Yoda tilts his head. “Why, can you not?”

You twist your hands together. “Because Tyrannus is a current member of the Jedi Council and may yet be redeemed.”

Yoda frowns. “A serious accusation, that is.”

You nod. “Indeed. And I have no proof.”

Master Yoda sighs, suddenly looking his age. “Unfortunate, this is. Tell me what else, can you?”

You frown, considering his question. Dooku’s presence and Shmi’s election are both testaments to how much you have already altered the timeline simply by being here. “The longer I am here, the more increasingly inaccurate my predictions will become, Master. What I can tell you is that Sidious is behind both the Republic and the Confederacy, pulling strings and causing catastrophes to spark the war. He wants an excuse to solidify and consolidate governmental power in the Chancellor’s office while scattering the Jedi and placing them with troops who will have no choice but to unilaterally betray them.”

Master Yoda looks thoughtful. “Always in motion, the future is.”

You smile, feeling oddly comforted by hearing the familiar words coming out of his mouth in person. “Not to be rude, Master, but why did all three of you annoint me today?”

Master Yoda smiles at you. “A compromise, it was. Following your career with interest, all three of us are. Also to honor your teachers, it was. Since one with the Force they now are, stand in their place, we did.”

His words strike you as odd. Sure, Master Lee has been dead for decades. And Master Gyatso is old. But Master Barnes was just posting on social media the day you drove home from DragonCon. You frown, wondering what he means. “They are?”

Master Yoda smiles at you sadly. “After capturing Maul, travel to Earth, Master Windu did. Destroyed recently in a nuclear disaster, it was. Sad to tell you, the last Earthling, you are.”

Your heart skips a beat and you freeze, your brain screeching to a complete and total shutdown. Intellectually, you know this Earth isn’t your Earth, but hearing those words is a nightmare you’d always thought of as science fiction, and now they’re science fact.

“Brought you to Ansion to save you from the cataclysm, the Force did. No doubt, I have.” Master Yoda hops up from his seat and walks towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Glad the Force saved you, I am.”

You nod, blinking back tears. “Thank you, Master Yoda.”

“One more thing, there is. To a banquet, tomorrow evening, invited you and Skywalker are.  For Tatooine’s newly seated Senator, by the Naboo delegates hosted, it is. Formal robes, you both will need.” With these parting words, Master Yoda leaves the room. 

You somehow manage to make it back to your assigned quarters on your own, though admittedly, it takes you several wrong turns and asking for directions a few times. You find your Padawan lounging on the couch when you enter, a bored look on his face. 

“We are expected to attend a banquet Senator Amidala is hosting for Tatooine’s newly seated Senator tomorrow evening,” you inform him.

Skywalker’s eyes light up with excitement.

He opens his mouth to say something, but - not wanting to hear more about his feelings for Padmé - you forestall him with further instructions. “You need to go see the Quartermaster and acquire a set of formal robes for the event.”

Beaming with joy, your Padawan leaves your quarters. You head into your room and the attached fresher, intent on taking a bath. Soaking your cares away in warm water is the best thing you can think of right now. So you do. An indeterminate amount of time later, you exit your room dressed in a set of fresh robes and feeling more relaxed than you remember feeling in months, maybe even since you arrived in the Star Wars universe. You enter the common room just as Skywalker is returning from his errand, carrying a bundle of white and gold fabric in his arms.

He stops when he sees you, a sheepish smile on his face as he unfolds the bundle to reveal an antique set of male formal robes. “I guess we’re gonna match. These were all they had in my size on such short notice.”

You force an awkward smile and shrug in reply, cringing internally. It’s bad enough you have to spend your every waking hour with someone you’re trying to emotionally distance yourself from; but now you have to show up to a formal social occasion looking like a matched set? Somehow, this turn of events feels like more salt in your open wounds.

Chapter Text

You manage to make it through the rest of your day and most of the next by being unfailingly polite to your Padawan. You allow him to take the lead when walking through the Temple, trusting his knowledge of the structure far more than your own, always staying several steps behind him. You keep your distance at breakfast, at lunch, during your meditation and sparring sessions together, and every other moment. You even continue to refer to him as Padawan or sometimes Padawan Skywalker. For his part, your Padawan seems entirely confused, obviously uncertain as to what he did. So far, your attempt at emotionally distancing yourself seems to be working. Or at least it seems to be working until it’s time to get ready for the banquet. 

Freshly showered, dressed in your formal robes, and made up using supplies someone left in your fresher, you exit your bedroom into the common area. You barely cross the threshold when the sight of your Padawan stops you dead. Standing perfectly framed in a beam of golden light from the window, Anakin Skywalker looks like a living Sun God. His time on Tatooine returned his skin to the darker tone of his childhood, contrasting beautifully with the white of his robes. The golden hue of his tabard echoes the halo of short, sandy curls around his head - recent growth from the past three months. He’s beautiful. You stand staring at him in abject appreciation, struck speechless by the sight of Darth Vader’s visual antithesis. For a moment, your mind blanks completely. Then it overcorrects itself, leaping into frenzied overdrive, spurred into action by the sudden pounding of your heart.

Get a grip! He’s your Padawan! You shouldn’t be looking at him like this, you chide yourself, reaching for your one white stone with alacrity, irrationally terrified he might have overheard your thoughts. It doesn’t matter how pretty he is, how perfectly the garments fit his tan, muscular body, or how angelic he seems with his golden formal robes and glowing hair. He’s your Padawan, and even if he wasn’t, he’s already made it clear with his actions who would win in a contest between you and Padmé. Besides, even if he wasn’t besotted with Padmé, he’d still be the Chosen One, and you’d still be the girl from another galaxy. You cannot allow yourself to feel this way, to look at him like you’re currently doing. Yet, for all your intention otherwise, you can’t stop staring at the most gorgeous human being you’ve ever seen.

“Indra?” he asks, searching your face. “Are you alright?”

His voice shatters your reverie, startling you out of your head and back into the moment.

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “Yes, Padawan,” you reply, scrambling for an answer. “My apologies, my mind was elsewhere.”

His look clearly communicates how little he believes you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You fake a smile and head for the door decisively, only to freeze, belatedly realizing you have no idea how to exit the Temple, let alone how to get to the Senate Building.

Laughing and shaking his head, your Padawan — you remind yourself — steps around you and leads the way.

Walking into the Senate Banquet Hall, you’re struck by the sheer size of the room. It reminds you more of a coliseum or football stadium than a ballroom in terms of its size and circular shape. A countless number of circular tables ring the gargantuan room, leaving an open center and ample room around a raised dais with an even larger, circular table. You don’t have long to gawk, however, as Shmi makes a beeline straight towards you.

She wraps her son in a warm embrace before doing the same to you. “I’m so glad you made it,” she says with a smile. “This is all thanks to both of you.”

Anakin grins, blooming under her praise. “Thanks, Mom.”

Shmi leads you both across the seemingly endless room to the dais on the far side, where Cliegg and two other humans dressed in the robes of Sand People wait with Padmé and the one Star Wars character you were hoping to never meet — Palpatine. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, clamoring to run free so it might exit the building before you meet catastrophe himself. Unfortunately, your heart is as irrevocably trapped in your chest as you are in the Senate Complex. You will not escape. Gripping your one white stone with all your might, you proceed towards the dais as somberly as if it were your execution.

One white stone.

Shmi leads you to Cliegg’s side of the circular table and up to the Sand People. “Master Jedi, this is Representative Sharad Hett and his wife K’Sheek. Sharad, this is my son, Anakin, and his Master, Indra Bari.”

Sharad Hett! You immediately recognize his name. The heroic and legendary Jedi Knight whose planet was destroyed and his family killed. Maybe now his son won’t become Darth Krayt. Your mind boggles as you begin to realize the larger, unintended ripples of your actions. 

Your Padawan seems to recognize Sharad’s name as well. “You must be A’Sharad’s father.”

The tattooed man smiles. “I am. Nice to meet you again, Anakin.

“Again?” Your Padawan frowns at the older man for a moment before his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “You’re the Chief!”

Sharad laughs and you instantly recognize his voice.

Before anyone can say anything else, another familiar voice interrupts. “Ani! Meesa so glad to be seein’ you!” Jar Jar runs up to Skywalker and hugs him, dragging him towards the Naboo half of the table.

You nod politely at Hett and follow your Padawan and his friend. 

Padmé rises from her seat, smiling broadly at your approach. “Lady Bari, Ani, it’s so good to see you.” Kenobi stands behind her, dressed in his mission robes. He nods politely at you both in silent greeting.

Palpatine also rises, a saccharine smile on his face as he moves to greet you. “Anakin, my dear boy, it is a relief to see you alive and well. Your mother has been telling me of your daring exploits on Tatooine. I am incredibly proud of you, son.” He places a hand on Skywalker’s shoulder. “Well done.”

“Thank you, Chancellor.” Your Padawan smiles back at him. “This is my new Master, Indra Bari.”

Palpatine turns his attention to you, extending his hand for you to shake. “A great pleasure to meet you my lady; any friend of Anakin’s is a friend of mine.”

A wave of bile rises in your throat as you reluctantly accept his hand and shake it. “It is an honor to meet you, Chancellor.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Palpatine's smile widens, making him look even more like a snake about to unhinge its jaw and swallow you whole. “I find your robes quite fascinating, my lady. Is there some significance to the symbols on them?”

For a heartbeat, you struggle not to jerk your hand away from his grip and run screaming from the room. The moment passes. You grip your one white stone even harder. “Yes, sir. They are cultural symbols from my homeworld.”

Palpatine continues holding your hand as he traces the hem of your sleeve with his finger. “As an avid student of antiquities, I recognize these three symbols, but I must confess I am unfamiliar with the other two. What planet do they originate from?”

You take a deep breath, focusing on your white stone as though your life depends upon it. For all you know, it very well might. “Earth.”

Skeevy Sheevy frowns, looking thoughtful as he continues to hold your hand captive. “I do not believe Earth is a member of the Galactic Republic. Perhaps you might assist me in learning more about your planet. I find diplomatic relations are best conducted with a certain amount of delicacy and cultural respect.”

Desperate to be free of his grasp, both immediately and in the ostensible future, you impulsively decide to wield the truth like a blade and cut him with it. “That won’t be necessary, Chancellor; I’m the last Earthling alive in this galaxy.”

Unfortunately for you, your statement does not have the intended effect of making him drop your hand like a hot rock. Instead, he covers it with his other hand, gently patting the back of it while his expression shifts into an uncanny approximation of compassion; the look fails to reach his eyes. “Oh, how terrible, my dear. I know nothing can ease the tremendous loss you must have experienced, but I hope you will find a new home and a new life here on Coruscant. If there is anything my office can do to assist you in that regard, my door is always open.” He pats your hand one last time before letting go and returning to his seat at the table.

You breathe a small sigh of relief, wishing for the privacy of a fresher so you can scrub the skin off your hands.

Before you can even look for doors to the freshers, your Padawan grabs your hand, pulling you aside to the rear of the dais, where you are sheltered from the majority of the room. “Indra, are you alright?” His eyes search your face.

“I’m fine.” You shrug, not feeling up to the labor of emotional vulnerability in such a public venue.

Skywalker frowns, his eyes expressing a swirling mixture of sadness, pain, and confusion. “When did you find out? Why didn’t you tell me your planet was destroyed?”

“Master Yoda told me yesterday,” you answer. “With everything else going on, it didn’t seem important to mention.”

Your Padawan opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Padmé has turned to speak with you. “Master Bari, there’s someone I would like you to meet.”

“Excuse me,” you say with a polite smile to your Padawan before joining Padmé in front of the dais where she has gone to meet someone whose presence fills you with as much unexpected comfort as Palpatine’s did revulsion. Bail Prestor Organa.

“Senator Organa.” Padmé greets the older man with a smile. “This is Master Indra Bari; she masterminded the slave rebellion on Tatooine. Master Bari, this is Senator Bail Organa, the head of the Anti-Slavery Committee.”

Organa bows politely. “Pleasure to meet you, Lady Jedi.” 

Thank you, Padmé, you think, as a brilliant idea begins to take form. “Pleased to meet you, Senator Organa. I require your assistance with a matter of some importance.”

“Of course, my lady.” Organa smiles. “How can I assist you?”

“My Padawan told me a disturbing story of a cantina in the lower levels of Coruscant,” you say. “He witnessed the trafficking of sentient beings in the establishment.”

Organa’s eyes widen slightly before they narrow, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “Indeed, this is a serious matter for the Committee to investigate. If you and your Padawan would be so kind as to visit my office at your earliest convenience, I would like to discuss this with you in more detail than our current situation allows.”

“Of course,” you agree. “Thank you, Senator.”

Organa shakes his head. “No, thank you, Master Jedi. You have done more for the Republic and her people than most of my colleagues. We are in your debt.”

You smile and dip your head politely, feeling emotional about being praised by Space Mom’s dad. “Thank you, sir.”

Another person approaches your small group, her auburn hair and elegant dress immediately recognizable to your fangirl brain. Mon Mothma. 

“Senator Mothma.” Padmé greets the other woman with a smile. “This is Master Indra Bari, the mastermind of the slave rebellion. Master Bari, this is Senator Mon Mothma, another member of the Anti-Slavery Committee.”

“An honor to meet you, Master Jedi.” Mothma smiles at you warmly. “Thank you for your bravery and service to the Republic.”

“It is an honor to serve the people,” you reply, an idea taking shape in your head. Soon, if it hasn’t already happened, the Jedi Order will receive the first shipment of clones. Now seems like the perfect opportunity to do something to save the clones as well. “Another matter requires the Committee's oversight.”

Padmé tilts her head inquisitively. “Of course.”

“Recently, the Order learned a Jedi Master secretly ordered and paid for a batch of genetically engineered soldiers,” you begin. “These clones have biological control chips similar to a restraining bolt, preventing them from disobeying orders. Currently, no plan exists for them to ever retire or have any rights as citizens. They are, in short, humans made to be as disposable as droids.”

Mon Mothma gasps. Bail Organa frowns. 

Padmé stares at you in horror. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Master Jedi. I believe this also requires further discussion than our time today allows.”

“It will also require the help of the Military Oversight Committee,” Organa adds.

Padmé nods. “Please, come to my office later this week.”

While you’ve been talking with Padmé and the other members of the Anti-Slavery Committee, a steady stream of people has lined up to speak to the Chancellor, meet Senator Skywalker-Lars, and greet Senator Amidala. You notice your Padawan has pulled Cliegg off to the side. Whatever the two of them are talking about, they keep looking your way.

Shmi smiles as she greets each of her new coworkers. Threepio stands beside her, no doubt shining in his role as translator and assistant. Venya stands beside the Sand People, likely assisting them as well. Tsy stands behind the group, looking every bit like a professional security guard. 

A throng of waitstaff wander around the room with trays of hors-dœuvres and drinks, offering them to the dignitaries and their guests, though not to any of the assistants or personal security officers. The procession of Senators and Representatives seems to last forever. Eventually, an assistant whispers something in Palpatine’s ear.

The Chancellor steps back and raises his arms, addressing the crowd through a speaker system. “Welcome to the Tatooine Inaugural Banquet in honor of our newest Senator. Let us eat.”

You follow the others onto the dais where little Aurebesh placards demarcate the places. Palpatine — of course — sits at the center, facing the room. Shmi sits on his right, Padmé on his left. Jar Jar sits next to Padmé. Beside Shmi sits Cliegg, followed by Sharad and K’Sheek. Your Padawan sits next to Jar Jar, leaving you to fill the final chair between Skywalker and K’Sheek. Unfortunately for you, this position prevents you from watching the doors for trouble and — even worse — places you opposite Skeevy Sheevy.

“Master Bari,” K’Sheek greets you as you sit down beside her. “I hear I have you to thank for being reunited with my husband and being able to see my son again.”

You blink, not understanding her meaning. As far as you know, she disappeared during a sandstorm and was presumed dead.

Recognizing your confusion, the woman smiles patiently, her tattooed cheeks curving upwards. “After my son A’Sharad was born, I was lost during a sandstorm. I survived, but only because the enforcers found me and returned me to slavery in Jabba’s townhouse. Because of your rebellion  I am free again. And now my husband is the Representative for the Sand People and the Jawas, allowing us to see our son A’Sharad, who is a Jedi. Perhaps you know him.”

“Not personally,” you reply. “But I do know of him. I believe he is close friends with Padawan Skywalker.” Ripples upon ripples, you think, amazed at the string of synchronicities.

The waitstaff brings out the appetizers, tiny pieces of something you assume to be aquatic, based on the shells they’re served in.

Jar Jar gabs away at your Padawan, keeping him from speaking to Padmé - who picks at her food, pretending to eat it. Kenobi stands behind her, arms crossed as he watches the far side of the room. Behind Shmi, Tsy also watches the room. Seeing his relaxed posture helps you feel somewhat calmer, though not entirely because Skeevy Sheevy is currently staring at you. He’s pretending to watch the room behind you but his eyes keep moving between you and your Padawan as though he’s watching you both. Also, even with your back turned to the throng, you still know the room is packed with far more people than you’re used to being around. Ironically, right now the one thing saving you is imagining this banquet  is all part of DragonCon. Since your brain found this thought most logical to begin with, it’s easy enough to maintain the idea now. 

“I do wonder what brought you to Tatooine in the first place, Master Bari.” Sharad interrupts your reverie as the wait staff begins bringing out the soup course. “You seemed oddly prepared to negotiate with us.”

“The Force called me to Tatooine,” you reply, wondering for the first time if this is truer than you realize. “So I brought supplies for a desert world in case we needed to provide for ourselves or pay for our lodging.”

“And you speak Tusken sign?” Sharad arches his brow.

“Only a few words.” You shrug. “Someone once told me it was wise to be prepared.”

“Indeed,” Sharad agrees, beginning to eat his soup.

You take a bite of your soup as well, finding the taste perfectly suited to your palate. The warmth is soothing on your frayed nerves, helping to ease the low level of anxiety you’ve experienced since seeing the dais and its occupants.

Across from you, Shmi and Padmé are talking while Cliegg enjoys his soup. Behind them, Tsy still appears relaxed. Jar Jar is still yammering on at your Padawan, the high pitch of his voice making your head hurt. Regardless of how you feel about him as a character, you find you need to tune him out. Your mind wanders; you wonder if special dishes are catered for species with specific dietary restrictions. What do they do for species like the Kel Dor delegation? They can’t exactly remove their rebreathers to eat. In fact, now you’re speculating whether Master Koon has a special atmospheric generator for his quarters. After all, he has to eat sometime.

The salad has arrived; a curious mix of what you only assume are vegetables. Despite its unusual appearance, you actually find the flavor quite to your liking. Unfortunately, Palpatine is still staring at you - a surefire appetite suppressant.

One white stone.

“Is that a Nikto warrior’s claw?” K’Sheek asks.

“It is,” you admit after chewing and swallowing your bite of food.

K’Sheek nods appreciatively. “You must be a strong warrior to receive such a rare gift.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile.

Your section of the table lapses back into a comfortable silence, offset by Jar Jar’s constant talking and the steady murmur of Padmé and Shmi’s voices underneath his. You struggle with your own overstimulation; between your anxiety over being in the same room with Mr. Evil Sith Lord himself and having your back to the largest crowd you’ve been surrounded by other than the time you walked in the DragonCon parade, you’re starting to wish you could fast forward time.

Eventually, the main course arrives. Jar Jar’s dish is definitely some sort of fish, whereas yours looks more like chicken and vegetables. Apparently, they do provide specialized food for the dignitaries who need it. To your relief, the Gungan immediately begins stuffing his face, lowering the decibels in your vicinity and allowing you to finally hear other people at the table.

“You should join us on the Anti-Slavery Committee, Shmi.” Padmé smiles at the older woman as she reaches for her water glass. “I think your lived experience as someone who has been enslaved would be invaluable, both by providing a perspective we cannot see and by persuading the Senate as a whole.”

Shmi nods, swallowing a bite of food. “I would love that.”

Palpatine smiles at Shmi, but you know better than to trust his expression. You’re glad Tsy is protecting her. 

“Now, I know you’re still setting up your office and you’ll probably have a line of Senators waiting to speak with you, but let’s do lunch sometime this week.” Padmé spears another vegetable with her fork. “This process can be overwhelming in the beginning, so I’d like to set up weekly lunch dates to help you get acclimated.”

“Thank you, Padmé.” Shmi smiles at the younger woman as she takes a sip of her wine.

You look at your own glasses, contemplating whether you’d rather be calm or clear-headed. The continued stare of the Sith Lord across the table makes up your mind for you. You reach for your water glass and check Tsy’s posture. Still relaxed.

One white stone.

“Of course,” Padmé replies once she has finished chewing and swallowing. “My planet and my people are safe and free thanks to your son. Naboo owes you. I owe you.”

Shmi smiles, shaking her head. “Thank you, nonetheless.”

The waitstaff brings dessert and you’re grateful to know the dinner part of the reception is almost over. You take a bite of yours but find it too sweet and cloying for your taste, so you set your napkin down on your plate to indicate you’re finished. Across the table from you, Shmi does likewise. You stand from your seat and walk around the back of the dais, intending to speak with Tsy, but Shmi intercedes, nodding her head towards the far side of the table.

“Is everything alright?” She asks once you are out of earshot.

“Fine.” You shrug. “This a lot of people for me.”

Shmi frowns, looking unconvinced. “Did Anakin do something? I’ve never heard you call him Padawan Skywalker before.”

You take a deep breath, thinking you should have realized Shmi would notice something was wrong. Perhaps if you were alone, you might tell her, but not here, not under the watchful eye of Skeevy Sheevy. You don’t want to lie to her, but you also don’t want to give Palpy any fuel. “The Council promoted me to Master and officially made him my Padawan, so I’m trying to play by the rules, especially since we just got out of detention.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Shmi shakes her head, a small smile on her lips. “I also wanted to check on you; I haven’t had an opportunity to speak with you since Kenobi’s attack. Are you alright?” She gives you a searching look.

“I’m okay,” you reply.

Shmi nods. “Tell me the Jedi Order punished him and I don’t have to go give him a stern lecture on consent.”

You smile, chuckling a little, half-tempted to call her mom for the briefest of moments. But then Dancer’s words echo in the back of your mind, so you don’t. “They did. Thank you, Shmi. I appreciate you.”

“Of course.” She gives you a quick hug, before pulling back and holding onto your shoulders while she talks to you. “You matter to me, Indra. You deserve to be treated like a goddess. And if anyone gives you less than the respect you deserve, I’m more than happy to set them straight. Especially if it’s my own son who needs lecturing.”

You laugh awkwardly, entirely too pleased with the mental image of your Padawan being disciplined.

Shmi gives you another motherly look. “And he does need correcting, doesn’t he?”

You shrug, feeling embarrassed by her ability to see through you. “Maybe a little.”

“A little?” She raises her eyebrows. 

“Okay, maybe a lot,” you say with a laugh.

“A lot what?” Shmi’s son suddenly appears as though he knew you were talking about him.

“I was just telling your Master how, now Sharad and K’Sheek are here, Owen and Beru will be returning to Tatooine. They asked for the two of you to come say goodbye before they leave. We were saying how much they’ll miss you.” Shmi smiles at you conspiratorially.

You notice she casually reminded her son that you are his Master and — as such — deserve some respect.

Music begins playing and Cliegg gets up from the table, walking towards your group with a smile just for his wife.

Shmi looks at both you and your Padawan, giving you a “don’t fight” look. “I believe we’re expected to start off the dancing,” she says, taking to the dance floor with her husband.

Palpatine does likewise with Padmé and you’re genuinely grateful he’s chosen her and not you.

Skywalker stands next to you, staring at the floor. “I know you’re probably still upset, but will you dance with me?”

Chapter Text

You stare at him in shock for a moment, uncertain of what to say. No, you do not want to dance with the person you’re trying to keep at arm’s length. No, you do not want to hold his hand or let him touch you. You do not want to stare into his blue eyes and stand close to him. Not at all.

On the other hand, both Palpatine and Padmé are watching you. While the latter’s gaze is of little concern, the former’s interest could be catastrophic. If you turn your Padawan down while his future Sith Master is watching, Sidious will absolutely use this incident as an opportunity to drive a wedge between the two of you.

“Yes,” you say, despite feeling certain dancing with Skywalker is almost as bad a plan as turning him down. The key word here being almost. 

Your Padawan smiles, taking your hand in one of his, placing the other around your waist. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

“You’re welcome,” you reply, uncertain of what else you could possibly say.

Skywalker’s smile falters, guilt filling his eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Indra. You tried to tell me you were upset, and I was so focused on Padmé I ignored your feelings. You’ve been nothing but a good friend to me. You took me to Tatooine to see my mother. You helped me accomplish my childhood dream of freeing the slaves. You stood by me when I got us captured and enslaved, even when Gardulla targeted you because of me. You supported me in the podrace. You masterminded not only our escape, but the whole slave rebellion. I paid you back by deserting you the moment Padmé arrived, even though I knew I was your only friend. Then, I left you to do all of the work by yourself while I sat in on meetings I didn’t belong in so I could spend more time with Padmé. If that wasn’t bad enough, I was so fixated on her I abandoned you again after Kenobi assaulted you. I’ve been a dwang friend and an even worse Padawan, when you’ve been completely astral to me. I karked up, big time.”

For a moment all you can do is stare at him in silent shock, blinking while you process his words. Did Anakin Skywalker actually apologize for ditching you in favor of Padmé? After a moment, you finally manage to find your words again. “Thank you.”

Anakin shrugs. “I can’t let Obi-Wan be the only one who knows how to apologize.”

You laugh a little, shaking your head, although really, you suddenly want to cry. The stress of the past week is finally catching up with you. Don’t cry, you tell yourself. Not here. Not now. One white stone.

“Are you alright, Indra?” Anakin frowns, searching your face.

“No,” you admit, biting your lip as hard as you can without drawing blood, doing your best to keep from crying.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m such a stupa. We made a really great team as friends. And I karked it up.”

For some reason, his continued apology only threatens your fragile emotional composure. “Thank you,” you repeat, not trusting yourself to say more.

Anakin frowns. “Do you want a hug?”

“Here?” you question, blinking back more tears. “Now?”

“Why not?” he asks. “What are they going to do, send us back to detention? We’re only dancing.”

Overwhelmed by the stress of the last few days and in desperate need of human contact, you allow Anakin to pull you closer, resting your head on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you. The warm comfort of his embrace melts through the floodwall restraining your tears and you begin to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” Anakin repeats, whispering softly. “You deserve to be treated as wizard as you’ve treated me. I promise to try if you let me. I swear I’ll never leave you again.”

As much as you intend to comfort him in response, you’re too busy trying to cry discreetly and to not get mascara all over his white robes. At this point, you just have to wait for the emotional dumping to stop.

Anakin continues dancing, gently rubbing your back in slow circles with his hand. “Do you need to go outside and get some air?”

“Yes,” you sniffle, pulling away. “How does my face look?”

Anakin laughs, using the pad of his thumb to wipe underneath your eye. “Perfect as always. Let’s get you some air.”

He leads the way out of the building to an ornamental statue garden with some benches. You take a seat on one of them and Anakin sits down beside you while you take deep, calming breaths.

“What can I do for you right now?” he asks.

You shrug, suddenly overwhelmed by the lights and sounds of Coruscant. Here, far more than on Tatooine, it is difficult to pretend you’re on Earth. The reality of your situation suddenly strikes you. What would you have done if they had kicked you out of the Jedi Order? Gone to Shmi and begged for her assistance? “I don’t know,” you admit. “My whole world got turned upside down and I’ve been trying to make the best of it but sometimes…” You stare into the ever-present lights of the city, watching the traffic zoom by. “…sometimes I’m overwhelmed. Especially when I realize all of the horrible things that almost happened. If they had kicked me out of the Order…” Your voice breaks as the tears begin falling again, as you recall all of the horrible fates you’ve narrowly avoided: being exiled in a galaxy with nowhere to go and no one to turn to, being gifted to Sebulba as a member of his harem, becoming a whirlee under the Hutts, or even splitting your skull wide open if Anakin hadn’t caught you when you fell out of the sky on Ansion. And those are just the terrible things you can think of currently. Who knows what else you’ve narrowly avoided?

Anakin frowns, opening up his arms in a wordless invitation. You scoot closer, leaning into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder. He rubs your back gently, silently comforting you while you cry. After an indeterminate amount of time your tears begin to slow and your breathing deepens. Anakin simply continues holding you.

“Thank you,” you say when you’re finally calm enough to speak.

“For what?”

“For being my friend again. This would be terrifying without you,” you admit.

Anakin chuckles wryly. “Thank you for being my friend again. Detention as your unfriend wasn’t any fun at all.”

You laugh and sit up, wiping your cheeks with your hands. “Detention isn’t supposed to be fun, Anakin.”

Anakin grimaces, making a face at you. “You sounded like Kenobi just now.”

“Nah, that would be more like this.” You grin, doing your best Kenobi impression. “Damnit, Anakin, detention is not SUPPOSED to be fun.”

Anakin bursts into laughter and you join in, cackling until your sides ache. When you can both breathe again, he looks at you with a grin. “Feel better?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

“You ready to go back?” Anakin asks.

You make a face. “How’s my face look?”

Anakin wipes both of your cheeks this time, cupping your face in his hands for a moment when he finishes. A warm fuzzy feeling fills your stomach as you stare into his eyes.

“Perfect as ever,” he pronounces before letting go and standing up. You follow Anakin back inside the Senate building to the Banquet Hall and over to the dais where you take a long drink of water, draining your glass. None of the other guests of honor are present; only their staff remain. Likely, they’re all still out on the dance floor.

Tsy gives you a searching look and comes to stand beside you as though he’s scanning the crowd. “Are you alright, my friend?” He speaks quietly, just loud enough for your ears.

“I am now,” you answer honestly.

“Good. I would hate to have to fight a Jedi.” Tsy shoots Anakin a warning glare and goes back to his post.

You sit in your chair sideways so you’re half facing the crowd. Anakin does likewise, his knees brushing up against yours. You people watch for what feels like an endless eternity but is — in reality — only the length of several songs. 

Beside you, Anakin sighs. 

“Are you alright?” you ask him.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “A little disappointed. I’ll survive.”

“What about?”

Anakin looks guilty. “I wanted to dance with Padmé.”

“Mmm. I can see where that would be disappointing,” you respond tactfully. “Do you want my honest advice?”

“Of course,” he replies without hesitation. “Always.”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts into right speech. “Padmé can’t dance with you because she’s working. She’s dancing with people as a form of social currency, not because she likes them.”

Anakin frowns. “So, when she danced with me on Tatooine…”

“It was because you were an important person in that socio-political context,” you say. “Chadrum told me once half the slaves idolized you because of how you won your freedom in a podrace as a human child. You were a symbol of hope for the rebellion. Padmé couldn’t turn you down without offending almost every Tatooinian in the room. But here…”

“I’m only another Jedi.” Anakin sighs again.

“Yes,” you agree. “And no. Here, you’re Anakin Skywalker, son of the Senator from Tatooine. if you were here as Kenobi’s Padawan, instead of your mother’s son, you’d be a staff member and not a guest - you wouldn’t even have been allowed to sit at the table, let alone to eat.”

Anakin shakes his head. “This isn’t how I thought it would be,” he admits.

“Things rarely are as we imagine,” you comment with a laugh-sigh. Sitting in a chair at a Senatorial Banquet definitely wasn’t on any of your ‘top ten things I want to do in Star Wars’ lists. “The important question is, once the reality of our situation has been revealed, can we accept what is — because we truly love something or someone enough to adapt — or are we in love with an idea and not the reality.”

Anakin frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this event has given you a powerful glimpse into Padmé’s priorities. Even if the two of you did have a relationship, the Republic would always come first because that’s who she is. She’s dedicated her life to being a leader and a politician; any romantic entanglements will always come second after her career. Now you’ve seen the truth of who she is, do you love her enough to accept this reality and be content with whatever Senator Amidala has the remaining capacity to give you, or have you begun to realize you are only in love with the idea of Padmé; the soft and beautiful girl from a world of water?”

Anakin stares at you, clearly dumbfounded.

When he doesn’t respond, you continue. “You don’t have to have an answer right now, and you don’t honestly ever owe me one at all. But you do owe yourself an answer, because our attachments are not the problem, but rather being insecure in our attachments; fearful precariousness is the root cause of our suffering.”

Anakin nods slowly, blinking as though doing so will restart the brain processes you just crashed by causing him cognitive dissonance. After several quiet moments he stands up abruptly. “Wanna dance?”

You give him a searching look, wondering what caused his sudden shift in mood as you accept his hand. “Yes…”

Anakin pulls you onto the dance floor and into his embrace, wrapping his free arm around your waist. “I figured I could either sit there and be miserable or get up and have fun dancing.”

You nod slowly, smiling at him, feeling impressed with his sudden spurt of growth towards emotional maturity.  “Where did this newfound wisdom come from?” you tease.

Anakin laughs, twirling you for a moment, causing the daggered hems of your tabard and robes to spin out around you like the petals of a flower. “I dunno, maybe it’s that new Jedi Master they’ve assigned me to. Maybe she’s a good influence on me.”

You laugh along with him, filled with an unexpected awareness of how deeply you are enjoying this moment: the feeling of Anakin’s larger hand enveloping yours, the gentle pressure of his arm around your waist, the warmth of his torso against yours as you both move effortlessly together in time to the music. You really shouldn’t be enjoying this moment as much as you are. It’s one thing to let your guard down and allow him to be your friend again. It’s another thing entirely to be enjoying his touch, especially when you aren’t sure if you’ve altered his fate yet. “I might have heard a rumor Master Windu agrees with that idea.”

Anakin grins, leading you in a series of turns, clearly showing off his dancing skills. “Now I know you’re teasing me.”

This only makes you laugh harder. “Am not!” you protest.

“Yeah, you are.” Anakin spins you out and then back into his embrace, dipping you over his arm before pulling you back up to face him. 

Your chest is pressed against his; he’s so close you can feel his breath. Unanticipated warmth fills your belly, your heart pounding as you stare into his eyes. You should not be this close to him, you warn yourself. You definitely shouldn’t be feeling some kind of way as a result, either. “Am not.”

Anakin grins. “I don’t believe you.”

“But that’s precisely why you’re my Padawan,” you argue playfully.

“Sure it is,” he teases, spinning you again.

“Okay then, what’s your explanation?” you ask.

“The Council is mad at Obi-Wan, and this is their way of punishing him.” Anakin leads you in another series of turns. 

You shake your head and chuckle, imagining Obi-Wan feels more relieved than anything. Not that you can say as much to Anakin without hurting him and undoing the progress you’ve made in repairing their relationship. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

“You’re free to disagree with me all you like, Master.” Anakin overemphasizes his last word, smirking while he does so.

“Ughh.” You glare at him playfully. “Don’t call me Master, it’s weird.”

“Mistress?” he teases.

“No,” you object emphatically, certain the krayt dragon of jealousy left behind an egg or ten. “Mistress is the woman the husband cheats on his wife with.”

Anakin turns about three different shades of red. “Okay, definitely not that one.”

You laugh at his discomfort, pushing away the twisting feeling in your gut.

“Maestro?” Anakin jokes.

“No,” you say with a laugh.

“Boss?” he teases.

“How about just Indra.” You stick your tongue out at him for emphasis.

Anakin grins. “Okay, Just Indra.”

You mock glare at him. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” He raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

“You could always read my mind if you don’t,” you joke.

Anakin smirks, spinning you out and back in again. “Who says I haven’t been doing that this entire time?” he bluffs.

You blush, realizing you haven’t been actively shielding since you returned from the garden. Surely he hasn’t been overhearing your thoughts, has he? “If you’ve been reading my thoughts then you know perfectly well what I mean,” you say, calling his bluff.

“Maybe I do,” he jokes, twirling you around. “Maybe I don’t. I guess you’ll just have to read my mind if you want to find out.”

“Who says I haven’t been?” you tease.

Anakin throws his head back laughing before he stops and grins widely. “Me, ‘cause I’ve been shielding all night.”

“Maybe your new mentor is a good influence, after all,” you say with a smile.

“Maybe.” Anakin smirks.

You’re laughing along with him as the song ends and an unexpected hand taps Anakin on the shoulder.

“May I cut in?” asks the owner of your least favorite voice in the galaxy. 

A current of ice runs down your spine as efficiently as if you were facing Subzero himself. In fact, you’d rather be facing Subzero any day. One white stone, you think as you reinforce your mental shielding. You know there is no possible way for either of you to refuse him. The rules of etiquette demand Anakin step aside for any gentleman cutting in, most especially the Supreme Chancellor himself.

“Of course, Chancellor.” Anakin relinquishes you and steps back. 

Skeevy Sheevy moves in, his politician’s smile well oiled and ready as he takes your hand and places one of his around your waist. Your skin is crawling and you want to scream. Instead, you smile politely like your face is made of plaster.

“How long have you known Anakin, my lady?” Palpatine’s tone says he is curious, but you know better than to think his motives are in any way innocent.

You briefly consider what to tell him. Why not the truth? One white stone. “I’ve known of him for probably half my life but we only met in person a few months ago.”

Palpatine’s smile shifts, his voice oozing false security. “Oh yes, I quite know what you mean. I have been following Anakin’s career with great interest. He is a rather remarkable young man, don’t you think?”

What is he after? you wonder, refocusing on your white stone. “He is,” you agree, figuring the less you say, the better. For all you know your words are a rope and Palapatine will try to trip, trap, or kill you with them.

The Chancellor smiles, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “And a rather handsome young man too. Whomever fit his robes should be commended for complimenting his coloring and showing off his muscular physique. No doubt every young woman in the Jedi Order has her eye on him.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from replying. While what Palpatine says about Anakin is true, you’re not about to admit it to anyone outside of your own head, especially not Skeevy Sheevy himself. One white stone, you think, focusing on your breath.

When you don’t respond, Palpatine continues. “Oh, to be young and beautiful and have my whole life ahead of me,” he says wistfully.

The back of your mind feels revolted, realizing all too well the implicit meaning of his words. He wants to steal Anakin’s body and possess it as his own. One white stone. Reluctantly, you realize this is the point at which a polite person would offer some form of flattery about his age — and therefore fall for his ploy — or offer a platitude about the benefits of wisdom. You refuse to do either. “Perhaps one day medical technology will allow us to do just that,” you muse.

Palpatine gives you an odd look. “I would have thought the Jedi would frown on such things.”

You shrug, wishing you could shake his hands off entirely. One white stone. “Why would we? We believe in life-saving procedures such as cybernetic replacements. Why would this be any different?”

Palpatine frowns thoughtfully. “Perhaps because some would consider it unnatural.”

“Extending the natural lifespan is what science and medicine do,” you argue. “There is nothing unnatural about using the tools the Force has given us to prolong life.”

Palpatine smiles — his expression bizarrely warm and welcoming for once — and you realize you’ve somehow managed to fall into his trap anyway. 

Chapter Text

After breakfast and morning meditation, you and Anakin return to the Senate Building, heading for Senator Organa’s Office.

“Welcome, Master Jedi,” Bail’s assistant droid greets you. “Right this way, please.”

The assistant ushers you into a receiving room where you wait for the Senator.

He does so in a matter of moments, entering the room with a kind smile. “Master Bari, it is an honor to see you. Would you care for some refreshments?”

“No, thank you, Senator.” You turn to Anakin, raising an eyebrow at him. “Anakin?”

“No, thank you.” Anakin stands with his arms folded, looking a bit uneasy.

Perhaps introductions will help, you think. “Senator Organa, this is my Padawan, Anakin Skywalker. Anakin, this is Senator Bail Organa, a friend of Senator Amidala’s and head of the Anti-Slavery Committee.”

“Pleased to meet you, Senator,” Anakin says, bowing his head politely.

“Pleasure to meet you, Padawan Skywalker,” Organa replies. “I understand you witnessed sentient trafficking in the underground. I would like to know more about your experience.”

Anakin looks at you, uncertain.

“He’s promised to help us,” you reassure him.

‘You can trust him, Anakin.’

Anakin frowns, looking conflicted for a moment before he turns his attention to the Senator. “What good will telling you do? The Chancellor took me there and even he couldn’t do anything about the place because half of its clients are Senators. What can you do? You’re just a Senator yourself.”

You watch a series of emotions flicker behind Organa’s eyes, his jaw tightening. “I will conduct a full investigation into the establishment: its owners, customers, suppliers, you name it. I promise you, I will have every one of them arrested if it empties half the Rotunda.”

Anakin looks back and forth between you and Bail, obviously deciding. “The place is called Club Kasakar; it’s on sublevel 2685. Senator Calandrus from the Suntilla system likes to gamble there as well as buy and sell people.”

Organa nods. “You have my word as an Alderaanian, Padawan Skywalker. I will shut down Club Kasakar and prosecute everyone involved.”

Anakin nods, compressing his lips in a tight line as he does so. “No offense, Senator, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

After leaving Organa’s office, you head to Shmi’s, where Threepio meets you at the door. “Greetings, Master Jedi.”

“Hey, Threepio.” Anakin smiles at the droid fondly.

Baxt and Miodel nod and grin at you as you enter. You return their nods with a smile.

“Lady Jedi!” Your favorite pair of Twi’lek twins come bounding around the corner from another room, broad smiles on their faces.

“Seer’aa, Teer’aa.” You grin in response as they race toward you, tailed by Chadrum.

“Did you come to train us?” Teer’aa asks.

“Yeah,” adds Seer’aa. “We miss training! It’s been so many days!” 

You smile at them fondly, feeling a small pang of guilt. “Even better. If your mother allows it, I’ve come to take you to the Temple to be tested and trained properly.”

Teer’aa frowns, looking anxious. “Tested? What’s that mean?”

“They’ll take a sample of your blood. It doesn’t hurt,” you add upon seeing their responses. “And they might ask some questions. But since you’ve already learned to use the Force, they probably won’t ask very many questions.”

“Can we go right now?” Seer’aa asks. 

“Well, first you have to ask your mother. And I need to say goodbye to some friends. But then we can go, alright?”

“Yes!” The twins run back into the suite of rooms. Chadrum shrugs and smiles before following them.

Beru and Owen — who have been hanging back during this exchange — approach now the twins have left. 

“You’re so good with them,” Beru says, smiling as she looks first at you and then Anakin. 

“I am,” you admit with a playful shrug. “Which will come in handy when it’s time to play with your kids.”

Owen and Anakin both laugh. 

Beru blushes, still smiling. “Fair enough.”

“Mom says you’re going back to Tatooine,” Anakin says, switching topics.

Beru flashes him a grateful smile. “We are. There’s still a lot to do. Tatooine needs some sort of exports we can trade with other planets.”

You dip into your mental collection of Star Wars lore, searching for anything helpful. “What about dilarium oil and silicax oxalate?”

Beru frowns. “Never heard of them.”

“Silicax oxalate is the glowing purple stuff that forms the stalactites and stalagmites in Laguna Caves,” Anakin says. 

“Where the krayt dragon lives?” Owen sounds skeptical. 

“I’m sure there are other deposits of it.” Anakin shrugs.

“I don’t know,” Beru says. “What about that oil… what did you call it, dilarium?”

You nod. “I don’t know what it is, but if it’s valuable I bet the Hutts knew about it and either had some or knew where to get it. You might check their records.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Owen agrees.

“We could also look up the Galactic Survey records for the planet,” you suggest. “Obviously the sand crawlers were built as roving refineries to collect some sort of ore. If you could find out what they were mining, you might be able to retrain some of the populace to mine it.”

Beru nods. “That’s a good idea. Though I need to find jobs for the former whirlee as well.”

You frown for a moment, considering options. A sudden burst of inspiration strikes you. Between their entertaining skills and the martial arts training I gave them, they’d make decent handmaidens. I bet I could get Padmé to help them after what she said about Tatooine and Naboo at the banquet . “I have an idea, but I need to talk to Senator Amidala about it first.”

Beru nods. “How do you know all this stuff?”

You shrug nonchalantly. “I read a lot.”

Anakin laughs. “That’s the understatement of the century. She spent a whole week in the library.”

Everyone joins in the laughter, including Shmi and Cliegg, who have just entered the room with Threepio. 

“I’m going to miss having the two of you around to solve all of our problems,” Beru admits with a smile. “Are you sure you don’t want to come live on the homestead and help us rebuild Tatooine?”

Owen pulls his girlfriend into a one-armed hug. “They have to stay here, Beru. They’re Jedi.”

“I know.” Beru kisses him on the cheek and steps towards you, wrapping you in a sudden hug. “All the same, Tatooine will always be your home, Master Jedi.”

“Thank you,” you reply, hugging her back briefly.

Beside you, Owen hugs Anakin goodbye. “Take care of mom and dad for me, okay?”

“Of course,” Anakin answers with a smile. 

After Beru releases you, you switch places with Anakin, giving Owen a quick hug goodbye as well. 

The twins reenter the room, accompanied by their mother and Chadrum. You step over to speak with Venya while Owen and Beru finish their goodbyes.

“The girls tell me you want to take them to the Jedi temple,” she says, studying you.

You nod politely. “To be tested and trained as Jedi, if you’ll allow it.”

“Will you feed them?” Venya asks.

“Yes,” you reply. “They will be housed and fed as well as given medical care.”

Venya purses her lips, nodding slowly. “They will be educated and learn to fight like you?”

“Yes.”

“Will I be allowed to see them?” Her brown eyes bore into yours. 

“Yes. You may come visit them at the Temple.” I’ll make sure of it, you think. 

“And they can leave if they are unhappy?” She narrows her eyes.

“Yes,” you agree. 

Venya nods again, dropping into a crouch and wrapping her arms around the twins. “If this is what you wish to do, I won’t stop you. Go, study hard, and become good Jedi. And if you are unhappy, always remember you can come back here with me.”

“Bye Mamma. I love you.”

You watch as the twins say goodbye to their mother, waiting patiently for them to be ready. 

“Take care of my girls,” Venya admonishes you.

“I will,” you promise. “I swear.”

Chardrum falls into step beside you as you follow Anakin through the Federal District back to the Jedi Temple. Seer’aa and Teer’aa walk on either side of Anakin, clutching his hands and chattering away, asking all sorts of questions about what it’s like to be a Jedi. For his part, Anakin clearly shines in the role of mentor, gleefully regaling them with tales of his adventures.

You can’t help but smile as you observe them, reminded of how good Anakin was with Ahsoka. 

Chadrum’s voice startles you out of your reverie. “He will make a good protector of offspring, one day.”

Stunned by their observation, you sputter out a laugh. “What?”

“Skywalker.” Chadrum bobs their head in Anakin’s direction. “He possesses a strong paternal instinct and will make a good mate for protecting the nest and raising hatchlings.”

You laugh harder, turning red. “That’s not… Jedi aren’t exactly encouraged to start families.”

Chadrum gives you a look out of the corner of their eye. “And you are a rule follower?”

By this point you’re laughing so hard you’re almost crying. “No. But…”

Chadrum gives you another look and you realize it’s impossible to argue with them when they’re in this mode.

“He’s not interested in me,” you explain in a near-whisper. “He’s in love with the Senator from Naboo.”

Chadrum narrows their eyes and hisses. “Then he is more of a stupa than I thought he was. No disrespect to her, but you would lay stronger eggs.”

“Stupa?” you ask with a chuckle.

“Idiot. Fool.” Chadrum says the words while glaring at Anakin’s back. “Want me to beat some sense into him?”

“No,” you say with a smile, grateful for your friend’s support. “I deserve a mate who appreciates me without being beaten into it.”

“Master Yoda,” you say, greeting the Grand Master as you enter the testing room. “These are Seer’aa and Teer’aa, some of my friends from Tatooine. Girls, this is Master Yoda.”

“Hello, Master Yoda.” Both twins bow politely, speaking in unison as they sometimes do.

“Younglings, welcome to the Jedi temple, you are.” Master Yoda smiles kindly at the twins. “Ready to be tested, are you?”

“Yes,” they respond in stereo.

“Mmm.” Master Yoda uses a hypospray to take a sample of each twin’s blood, nodding to himself as he does so. “What of the Force, know you?”

“It’s everywhere and in everything,” Seer’aa responds.

“We’re a part of it,” Teer’aa continues.

“It’s like a song,” Seer’aa adds. 

“It’s what tells a womp rat to be a womp rat and a bantha to be a bantha,” Teer’aa states emphatically. 

Master Yoda nods, smiling at the twins. “From Master Bari, learned much you already have. What else, know you?”

The twins grin at each other before extending their hands towards Master Yoda, lifting him carefully off the floor. He laughs in response, his gleeful chortle echoed in the giggles of the girls.

“Good, good,” he praises them after they set him down. “Impressed by your control, I am.  Make strong Jedi, you will. Wish to become Jedi, do you?”

“Yes!” Both twins answer in unison.

Master Yoda looks at you and then at Chadrum. “Another guest, we have.”

“Master Yoda, this is my friend, Chadrum. They owe the twins a life debt.”

Chadrum bows politely.

“True, this is?” Master Yoda asks.

“Yes,” Chadrum confirms. “The twins saved my life on Tatooine. I owe them a debt of honor and will not leave their side until it is paid.”

“Unusual, this is,” Master Yoda observes, looking at you. “What think you?”

“Chadrum is an honorable warrior and a trustworthy friend. I would feel safe leaving my own children in their care,” you affirm. “They will make an excellent guard for the Younglings.”

Yoda nods thoughtfully, considering the group of you for several silent moments before speaking again. “Bound you together, the Force has. Unwilling to question its will, I am. Allow you to stay, I will. Younglings, welcome to the Jedi Order, you are. Guardian Warrior, welcome to the guard, you are.”

You spend the next few days returning to your Jedi Temple rhythm: you and Anakin eat breakfast, followed by meditation and lightsaber sparring. After lunch, you head to the crèche to check on Seer’aa and Teer’aa’s acclimation and spend time with them. Every time you do, Anakin gleefully plays with both the girls and the other younglings, which fills your heart with happiness. Watching him laugh with the children is an antidote to the heavy worry about his future. You always find yourself watching them in tearfully verklempt joy. Hopefully, the relationships he builds with the younglings will render him incapable of slaughtering them, even if your other plans fail. On the third day, you follow up your visit with the twins with another trip to the Senate Office Building.

“What are we doing in the Senate this time?” Anakin asks, leading the way.

“I have a meeting with the Anti-Slavery and Military Oversight Committees in Senator Amidala’s office,” you reply, watching Anakin for his response.

Much to your surprise, he does not react as you expect. “Is it alright with you if I go to my mom’s office instead? I thought while I was there, I could update Venya on how the twins are doing.”

“Of course.” His choice pleasantly surprises you.

One of Padmé’s handmaidens meets you at the door to her office suite, escorting you into a receiving room where Padmé waits along with Bail Organa, Mon Mothma and a Roonan you recognize as Senator Aang. All four of them stand as you enter.

“Master Bari,” Padmé greets you. “I’d like you to meet Senator Aang, head of the Military Oversight Committee. Senator Aang, this is Jedi Master Bari.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Senator Aang says.

You bow in response. “It is an honor to meet you, Senator Aang.”

“Senator Amidala tells me the Jedi have ordered an army,” Aang says, his tone full of unspoken reproach.

“Not exactly,” you explain, hoping to soothe his ruffled feathers. “A former Jedi Master, Master Sifo-Dyas, foresaw a coming war and took it upon himself to order an unsanctioned army of genetically engineered soldiers for the Republic.”

“And what does this issue have to do with the Anti-Slavery Committee?” Aang continues to stare you down. 

You stare back as calmly and politely as possible. “The soldiers have a control chip: the biological equivalent of a restraining bolt. Also, they are currently property - bought and paid for, with no rights, no avenue for achieving citizenship, or any way of reaching retirement. In short, they are biologicals designed to be as controllable and disposable as droids.”

Aang frowns, shaking his head. “And you say a Jedi did this?”

“A rogue Jedi who had already been sanctioned for his controversial views,” you clarify. “He acted without the Order’s knowledge or approval, deliberately going against their wishes.”

“And the Order has punished him for this?” Aang asks.

“Regretfully, he was shot down by the Pyke Syndicate before he could be held responsible for his actions,” you inform him.

“And what would you like us to do about this clone army?” Aang asks, still sounding salty about the whole subject.

“I would like both of your committees to work together to ensure these men are given the rights and freedoms of any Galactic citizen,” you reply. 

“Yes, but why have you come to us with this problem instead of your superiors in the Order?” Aang asks. 

“Because as the legislative branch of the government, the military is your purview, not ours. The Jedi Order should not involve ourselves in the political process unless we are asked to intervene.”

Aang nods thoughtfully. “I see.”

“Drafting the legislation to provide for this clone army will require a great deal of planning,” Organa advises. “It will take some time for the Senate to agree on a course of action.”

“Agreed. There is currently no legal framework allowing for a standing Galactic Army. It will be difficult  to persuade many planets — especially the pacifists — of the necessity.” Senator Aang side-eyes both Bail and Padmé.

“A Galactic Army could be used to patrol hyperspace lanes and protect vulnerable populations from piracy and slavers,” you suggest. “Doing so might be a good way to negotiate with the Separatists and show them you care about the Mid and Outer Rim worlds.”

Padmé nods. “That would give us a diplomatic advantage in negotiations.”

Mon Mothma smiles politely. “Indeed. I would be interested to hear your ideas on providing for these troops, Master Jedi.”

Luckily for you, you’ve already considered this idea. “If it were up to me, I would create a legal path to citizenship through military service, open and available to any person of the age of majority; thus ensuring the military is made up of volunteers and providing an incentive for joining. I would also create a standard rate of pay, funds for either education or entrepreneurship, and retirement benefits for all service members. Then, when the clone army is inducted into the ranks, they would automatically receive the same rights and privileges as every other member of the military.”

“What of the control chips?” Aang asks. “Certainly we would benefit from the security of loyal troops.”

“They should be removed,” you state unequivocally. “There is precious little difference between control chips and the explosives used to control slaves. The Republic cannot be morally opposed to slavery while also creating living beings for the purpose of permanently enslaving them. If you keep the chips intact, you are only proving the Separatists’ point through hypocrisy.”

Aang frowns. “But how can we ensure they will obey orders?”

You meet his harsh gaze unflinchingly. “The same way you ensure any other member of the military follows orders; by earning their loyalty and respect through your willingness to compensate them fairly for their service to the Republic. Those who die should be given an honorable funeral and their brothers be compensated for their loss by receiving survivors' benefits.”

Senator Aang nods. “I am surprised by your wisdom and maturity, Master Jedi. You are a credit to the Order.”

Chapter Text

You wander through an insubstantial, mist-filled landscape, wondering if you are in the world between the worlds. Where am I? Much to your frustration, you can’t even remember how you got here, much less where here is. You continue to roam for an eternity as your frustration evolves into despair. Eventually, your pace slows, each step growing heavier with nihilistic despondency until you fall to your knees, overcome with the apparent futility of your situation. I want to go home, you cry out mentally, your heart spasming in anguish.

The fog around you begins to lift, seeming to dissipate on command. As the miasma fades, a scene appears before you: insubstantial and not-quite real, as though a projection or a hologram. A group of stormtroopers disperses among a crowded area, approaching pedestrians and questioning them. What’s going on? I wish I could hear what they’re saying, you think. The view shifts, zooming in on one of the stormtroopers.

“Have you seen this citizen?” The stormtrooper holds up a missing person sign. The view shifts again, focusing on the image, leaving you staring at a color printout of your own face. Your heart leaps in your chest before taking a sudden nose-dive through your stomach and into the ground.

The terrifyingly familiar hissing sound of a ventilator fills your ears and your heart dives even deeper, inexorably plummeting into the bottomless chasm of a dark abyss. Darth Vader. Great, you think. As if this nightmare scenario weren’t already horrific enough. The view shifts, pulling back to reveal the black-clad Sith Lord whose existence you’ve been stalwartly trying to prevent.

Lord Vader holds up a datapad. Your face dominates the screen. “The Empire seeks information relating to the disappearance of this Jedi. You will assist us in locating her.”

No, it can’t be! Wherever your heart has fled, you swear you feel it shatter. A storm of feelings assault your consciousness, surges of grief, hopelessness, and depression threatening to drown you. This can’t be happening. I saved him, you protest, attempting to bargain with the reality before your eyes. Unless… guilt floods your synapses, the turbulent seas of emotion growing more intense. Unless my disappearance causes his downfall. What if he forms an emotional attachment to me and then I return home? It would be my fault if he fell to the dark side. Self-reproach and anguish pour into your chaotic mix of emotions, swelling the storming seas threatening to swallow you whole. Your missing heart collapses under the massive weight of your emotions and forms a singularity. Destiny struggles to reassert the pattern that was meant to be, you quote to yourself. Maybe I can’t save him. A tidal wave of emotion crests and crashes over you, pulling you under the salt water until you cannot breathe.

You awaken to the eerie sound of your own screaming, still safe in your bed at the Jedi Temple, drenched in sweat and shaking. 

Anakin bursts through your bedroom door. “Are you alright?”

You stare at him, fresh from your nightmare, momentarily torn between overlapping realities; the gentle, compassionate Anakin standing before you and the lingering afterimage of Vader. Heart still pounding, you shake your head and blink.

“Indra?” Anakin stands in the doorway, framed in the soft light of the sitting room, concern written on his features. “Do you need a healer?”

“No!” you protest, holding up your hand. Both it and your voice shake.

Anakin takes a step closer to your bed, speaking softly. “Indra, what’s wrong?”

You stare at him in uncertainty.

“Indra?” Anakin takes another step, one outstretched hand reaching towards you. “What happened?”

What should I say? You continue gaping at him, still filled with guilt from your dream. I have to prevent that future. But how?

“Indra?” Anakin hesitates, stopping next to your bed — one step from actually touching you. “Say something, please. Tell me what to do.”

His anxiety ridden tone is a bucket of ice water, shocking you into the moment. You’re the Jedi Master here. It’s your job to mentor Anakin.

“It … was … just a nightmare,” you articulate, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Anakin frowns, placing his hand on your shoulder. “It’s alright, you’re safe.”

You freeze, whether from his words or his touch, you don’t know. Am I safe, though? What if I disappear?

Anakin pulls back his hand, looking even more worried than before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m scared,” you admit. “What if the Force pulls me back home? Or somewhere else entirely? What if I suddenly disappear?”

“I’ll build a tracker,” Anakin replies without hesitation. “One for each of us. That way, if you do disappear, I can find you.”

As endearing as his confidence is, you don’t feel reassured. After all, he’s a fictional character in your universe. How could he find you across the fourth wall? Step out of a movie screen? Realization strikes suddenly as lightning, a pang of sorrow stabbing through your heart. You can’t bear to think of him as a fictional character anymore. Unfortunately for your composure, this thought is more emotional turmoil than it can withstand. The floodwall holding back your feelings crumbles, releasing a torrential downpour of tears.

Anakin looks conflicted for a second; then he walks around to the other side of the bed, climbing in next to you, where he sits with his arms wide open. You honestly consider keeping your distance for the briefest of moments, but your human need for comfort is a towering mountain next to the small sand dune of logic and reason. Despite your rational mind’s insistence this is THE worst possible plan, you lean into Anakin’s embrace, irrationally comforted by the gentle pressure of his arms wrapped around you. 

Eventually, your breathing slows. “What if the Force sends me somewhere you can’t follow, like another galaxy?”

“Then I’ll learn to ride space whales,” Anakin replies, completely unfazed.

You’re in the library with Anakin when your comm unit goes off, informing you the Council requires your presence.

“Don’t tell me it’s already time to go back to detention,” Anakin teases.

You laugh and shake your head at him in response. “It would only be detention for me; they didn’t summon you.”

“Want me to go with you anyway?” Anakin asks. “That way you won’t have to face detention alone.”

The kindness in his smile and the genuineness of his offer tug at your still-tender heartstrings, leaving you fending off an unexpected surge of tears. This Anakin is so different from the Vader from canon or your nightmares. You’d do anything to protect him.

Anakin cocks his head to the side, raising his eyebrow as he stares back at you.

Belatedly, you realize you never answered him. “No, I’ll be alright.”

“You sure?” he asks, his finger marking his place in the book he’s still holding.

“I’m sure,” you insist, unwilling to pull him away from his self-directed research.

Anakin frowns for a moment before his eyes light up. “Hand me your datapad.”

You retrieve your phone from its pouch on your toolbelt, noticing how odd it feels as you unlock the device and pass it to him. “Okay…”

Anakin does something with the phone before handing it back to you with a grin. A map of the Jedi temple fills the screen, a pulsing green dot indicating your location. “There. Now you won’t get lost.”

You blink back another wave of emotion as you stare at him, momentarily overwhelmed by the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you.”

Anakin grins. “No problem, just doing my job as your Padawan.”

Guided by Anakin’s map, you find your way to the Council Chamber without making a single wrong turn. The Temple guards wave you in and you enter the round room to find an odd yet familiar looking pair of Force users already inside. Quinlan Vos stands next to a pale, statuesque woman you’d recognize anywhere. Ventress. Your brain struggles to comprehend why she’s wearing Jedi robes. What’s she doing here? Is this another unintended consequence of my intervention?

“Grateful for your assistance in this matter, we are.” Yoda smiles at them.

“May the Force be with you.” Dooku nods at the pair in polite dismissal.

Both Vos and Ventress dip their heads in acknowledgment and exit, leaving your mind spinning with questions.

One white stone, you think, doing your best to hide your surprise. “Masters,” you say, addressing the room.

“You wanted to speak with me?”

“We did,” Master Billaba confirms, looking at Master Koon in some sort of unspoken message as she does so.

“Questions about your involvement with the Senate, we have,” Yoda begins. “Curious we are.”

“What Master Yoda is trying to say,” Master Windu intercedes, “is that we find your behavior rather concerning, Master Bari.”

You frown, wondering which meeting they’re upset about. “How so?”

“You went behind the Council’s back and interfered with resource allocation,” Master Shaak Ti clarifies.

Ahh, they’re mad about the clone troopers, you realize. No matter, this is a hill you’re more than willing to die on. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“The clones,” Master Koon says. “The Order has been approached by the Military Oversight Committee and the Anit-Slavery Committee, both seeking the transfer of the clone army.”

“Ahhh.” You nod slowly. “I see. How exactly did I go behind your backs?”

“By taking the matter directly to the Senate,” Master Windu says, staring you down. His tone of voice says you know very well what you did. “You should have discussed this issue with us first.”

You stare right back. “If I had discussed the clone army with you, would you have listened?”

Master Mundi looks taken aback by your insolence. “As a member of the Jedi Order, you are free to make suggestions, but it is our prerogative to disregard them as we see fit.”

“Exactly,” you reply. “As a religious organization, we have no need of an army. Nor is it in our mandate to involve ourselves in military affairs.”

“Nevertheless, it is our responsibility to make decisions regarding the Order,” Master Billaba comments.

“You are not yet a member of this Council,” Windu adds.

Yet? Windu’s word choice does not escape your attention.

“You’re right,” you agree, nodding your head. “I acted without your approval or permission. And I am willing to accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate.”

“I, for one, am curious to hear your reasoning,” Dooku says.

“The Clone Army are living beings who were genetically engineered to be the perfect soldiers; they were designed to live and die as the property of the Jedi Order. They’re slaves.” You stare at each of the Council members in turn. “They have no rights or freedoms — they are not even able to follow their own conscience as they are equipped with control chips to ensure their loyalty. Their very existence is anathema to everything the Jedi Order stands for. Turning their custody over to the Senate with the proviso that they are granted the full rights of galactic citizenship was the only just thing to do. Had they remained under the control of the Jedi, the Order would have become militarized and been forced to command them, leading to our destruction and downfall. We are supposed to be keepers of the peace, not generals or warlords.”

“Still, trust us to make this decision, you should have,” Master Yoda chides you.

“No offense, Master Yoda, but can you honestly say with complete certainty the Council would have ensured the clones were provided for? Or were you prepared to deploy them without any regard for their well-being?”

Master Yoda looks taken aback by your question.

Given the Council’s stunned silence, you choose to continue speaking. “I understand you are upset with my failure to follow the chain of command. However, I would like to remind the Council we are neither a military organization nor a political entity. It is our duty to follow the will of the Force, which I will continue to do, even when my actions are at odds with the wishes of the Council.”

“Be that as it may,” Master Koon says. “We cannot have rogue Jedi following their own agendas.”

“With all due respect, Master Koon, as I said, my only agenda is to follow the will of the Force. Might I remind you, we are discussing the lives and rights of living beings who were functionally enslaved. Yet, you yourselves just referred to them as resources. The clones aren’t your property simply because someone arranged their creation and gifted them to you. We are talking about people — living, breathing beings with hearts and minds and the Force-given right to self-determination. If the Council wishes to censure me for acting to protect the wellbeing of these men, then I accept your punishment, but I ask you to meditate on whether this punishment is serving the will of the Force or only your egos.”

The Council erupts into chaos as nine of the twelve members attempt to make their voices heard above the others. Masters Windu and Dooku stare at you in contemplative silence. 

Master Yoda raps his staff on the chamber floor until the other Council members stop squabbling. “Given us much to think about, you have. Free to leave while we discuss this, you are. Leave Coruscant, you may not.”

You return to your quarters to find them empty; Anakin is either still in the library or elsewhere in the Jedi Temple Complex. Should I comm him and ask him where he is? you wonder. Nah, that’s a Kenobi move. I’m sure Anakin will come back here when he’s done. Besides, he’d probably benefit from feeling like he’s trusted to be on his own. Truthfully, you’d probably also benefit from some alone time. You sit down on the couch and close your eyes, focusing on your breathing as you drop into a meditative trance.

Passing through your internal security systems, you enter your mind palace and head for your thinking chair, plopping yourself down into its comfortable depths to process. You mentally rewind your day, back to the nightmare you were experiencing before you woke yourself up screaming. I was wandering in a mist, you remember. Then I said, ‘I want to go home’ right before I saw a vision of stormtroopers and Darth Vader searching for me. Was that a warning of what happens if I go home? Vader said the Empire was seeking me. Vader might still exist because of my disappearance but surely I’ve changed enough to stop the Empire from forming. Or have I? Dooku is back on the Council; surely that counts for something. But he brought Ventress with him, you remind yourself. Though, technically, she was trained by a Jedi. She’s no more evil than Dooku is. But what are the two of them up to? Did I make things worse? Is that what my vision meant?

A sudden thought strikes you. What if it was just a nightmare? What if my subconscious manufactured this entire scenario because of all the stress I’ve been under? The clones are no longer under Jedi command and their control chips are being removed. The Order never invaded Geonosis so the Clone Wars haven’t started. Padmé returned to the Senate before Jar Jar could call for emergency powers. So how would Palpatine even take over? And even if Anakin did fall to the dark side, why would Darth Vader still need a ventilator? The simplest answer is that your nightmare was simply a bad dream spawned from the depths of your subconscious mind, a nagging worry you still haven’t done enough to change the timeline. But you have. Anakin’s mother is alive. He has a relationship with Cliegg, and therefore a father figure who isn’t Palpatine. You’ve begun repairing his relationship with Kenobi. Kenobi has a therapy droid. Padmé and Anakin aren’t together. Palpatine has lost his unfettered access to Anakin. Surely you’ve changed enough things for the future you saw to be improbable, if not impossible at this point.

Your worries assuaged, you return to the present, opening your eyes just as Anakin returns to your quarters, a grin on his face.

“I did it.” He holds up what appear to be a pair of circular silver lockets. “This one is attuned to me,” he says, handing you one. “And this one is attuned to you,” he says, placing the other around his neck. “All we have to do is open them and follow the compass heading.”

You open yours to find a graduated bezel surrounding a glowing blue stone with a spinning pointer which moves to always point at Anakin. A sudden wave of tenderness and gratitude wells up within you as you stare at the compass. Anakin has recreated ancient Jedi technology to comfort you and he isn’t even aware of what a big deal his creation is. He simply wanted to make you feel better. His thoughtfulness and compassion are a stark contrast to the Vader from your nightmares, a potent form of reassurance in and of itself. 

You blink back tears as you close the clasp and place the locket around your neck, resisting the sudden urge to throw your arms around him in a hug. “Thank you,” you manage.

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now. Do you know what these are?”

He shrugs. “Compasses?”

“Compasses like the ancient Jedi made millenia ago,” you clarify. “You reinvented ancient Jedi technology just to make me feel better, Anakin. This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“It’s not like they were hard to make.” Anakin shrugs again. “Besides, you’re such a good friend and always doing thoughtful things for me, this was the least I could do.”

Your heart swells with some unnamed emotion as you look at him, trying desperately not to cry. Surely there’s no way he can turn into Vader. Not now. 

Chapter Text

While you wait for the Council’s verdict, you proceed with your daily routine as usual. After lunch, you and Anakin head to the Senate Building and Senator Amidala’s office. 

One of her handmaidens greets you at the door and escorts you inside the suite of rooms. “Senator Amdida will be right with you.”

Just as her handmaiden said, the Senator arrives quickly.

“Master Bari, Ani,” Padmé greets you with a smile. “It’s so good to see you.”

“And you as well, Senator Amidala,” you say, smiling in return.

“It’s always good to see you , my lady.” Anakin stares at her awkwardly.

Padmé ignores him, focusing on you instead. “Please, call me Padmé, there’s no need for formality between us.”

“Of course, Padmé,” you reply. “Please call me Indra.”

“How can I help you?” she asks. 

“I have some friends on Tatooine in need of employment,” you say. “Former members of Gardulla’s whirlee. I was hoping you might help me find job placements for them.”

Padmé nods slowly, leading you towards a couch where she sits down, propping her feet up on a nearby ottoman, looking like she’s either exhausted, in pain, or both. “I’m not sure how I can help, but I’m listening. Knowing you, I imagine you already have a plan.”

You laugh, blushing a little. “I do. As whirlee, my friends have a unique skill set. They’re accustomed to crowds and social events and observing people. They’re hypervigilant and highly perceptive. I’ve also trained them in martial arts. I know most of them wouldn’t pass as body doubles unless they were protecting other Twi’leks, but I believe they would make excellent handmaidens and bodyguards.”

Padmé nods again. “I could see that. I’ll arrange for their transportation to Coruscant so I can interview them. I imagine they’ll also need a place to stay.”

“They will,” you answer. “They were given a share of Gardulla’s treasures but I imagine even one month’s rent on Coruscant would drain most of their funds, not to mention the costs of food and clothing.”

“I can house them and provide them with meals and clothing,” Padmé offers. “And have them shadow my bodyguards to learn the basics.”

“That would be amazing, thank you.” You notice Anakin and Kenobi are chatting away in a corner. “How is Knight Kenobi doing?”

Padmé laughs awkwardly. “He’s still as arrogant and argumentative as ever, but the therapy droid seems to have significantly improved his disposition. Thank you for thinking of it.”

“Of course.” You smile back at her. “I want him to be the best version of himself possible.”

“That’s awfully kind and generous of you, especially after what he did on Tatooine,” Padmé comments.

“I want the same thing for every sentient being,” you say. “I believe happiness is what the Force wants for all of us and so I want it for all sentient life as well.”

Padmé smiles at you and shakes her head. “You are a rare treasure of a person, Indra. I am grateful to know you.”

“Thank you, Padmé,” you reply, feeling honored by her esteem. “I’m thankful to know you as well. You’ve been nothing but amazing.”

Padmé laughs, dabbing at her eyes. “Stop that; you’re going to make me cry.”

You find yourself laughing along with her. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Padmé grins. “It’s a deal. Oh, speaking of deals, we’re having regular meetings about the clone army. I wondered if you might join us; I think your presence and wisdom would be beneficial.”

“Of course,” you reply with another smile.

Padmé smiles back as she stands. “Please forgive my rudeness, but I must excuse myself.” She darts out of the room.

You stand up as well, making your way over to where Anakin and Kenobi are still talking.

“She’s done nothing but work,” Kenobi says as you approach. “I escort her from work to her apartment and back to work again. And sometimes she doesn’t  go home at all. Apparently, that’s such a regular occurrence she keeps a bed in the back room for when she pulls all nighters.”

“Wow.” Anakin chuckles. “Sounds like I’m having more fun than you are.”

“I’m sure you are,” Kenobi agrees. “If I have to sit through one more Senate budget meeting I’m going to fall asleep.”

“That bad, huh?” Anakin asks.

Kenobi shakes his head. “And I thought life in the support corps was mindless.”

“I’ll try to visit you more often then,” Anakin says sympathetically.

Kenobi smiles in response, giving Anakin a huge hug. “Thank you, Anakin.”

After dinner, your comm unit goes off, alerting you to the Council demanding your presence. 

“Want me to go with you?” Anakin offers.

“Sure.” You don’t know why you accept his company, but you rationalize it away as perfectly normal for your Padawan to be accompanying you. 

The two of you make your way to the Council Chamber where the twelve Masters await you.

“Masters,” you greet them with a bow. “You asked to see me?” One white stone. 

“Yes, we did. Although acted with wisdom you have, concerned about your behavior the Council still is.” Master Yoda wastes no time in getting to the point.

“You can not continue to run around without any oversight,” Master Windu adds.

Master Billaba gives you a look you don’t know how to interpret. “Normally, a Jedi continues to maintain a close relationship with their Master even after reaching the rank of Master themself.”

Okay… you think, wondering why they’re reminding you of this fact. One white stone. 

“My colleagues are concerned the loss of your Masters has left you without any meaningful ties to the Order,” Master Windu clarifies.

“Like you to have daily check-ins with Masters Windu and Dooku, we would,” Master Yoda says.

You remember Yoda saying something about all three of them wishing to mentor you, but you still don’t understand Master Windu’s change of attitude towards you. One white stone. 

Windu himself follows you out of the Council Chamber after you are dismissed.  Apparently your first check-in with Master Windu begins now.

“Unlike my esteemed colleagues, I think you would benefit from a sense of purpose,” Master Windu says, getting right to the point as he walks with you and Anakin. “Most Jedi Masters devote themselves to a particular project or area of study. Have you given any thought to what your specialty might be?”

“I have not,” you admit. Unless your special project is how to return home to your universe. Unfortunately, or fortunately — depending upon your perspective — the Council believes your homeworld was destroyed, so you can’t exactly name going home as your project. Nor can you name your redemption of Anakin and Dooku either.

Master Windu nods. “In that case, I propose the best use of your talents would be for you to train to become a Sith Hunter.”

One white stone. A Sith Hunter? Here I thought I was rehabilitating them. “A Sith Hunter?” you ask, choosing not to give voice to your inner monologue. 

Judging by the sudden change in Anakin’s posture, he’s just as surprised by this turn of events as you are.

“Indeed,” Windu says, continuing to walk beside you. “As Sith Hunters, it is our responsibility to study the ways of the dark side so we are not caught unawares when we are inevitably confronted with it.”

You turn to look at Master Windu, narrowing your eyes at him as you walk.

“The only way you would know I had read the Book of the Sith is if you had read it yourself,” Master Windu comments dryly. “You also possess a great deal of knowledge regarding the current — and I suspect past — Sith Lords. Either you are a Sith Lord yourself, or you are a fledgling Sith Hunter.”

“I’m curious, Master Windu. When did you decide I wasn’t a Sith Lord?” you ask.

Master Windu laughs. “No Sith Lord would act as brash and confrontational with the Council, young lady. A Sith Lord would keep their head down and pretend to follow the rules in order to avoid notice.”

“Oh,” you say with a soft laugh of your own.

Master Windu waves open a door to what appears to be a practice room before leading both you and Anakin inside. “You possess a great deal of passion, which can either be your undoing, or your strength.” Windu circles his arms in a sequence of moves so fast his arms become a blur. “This is called Vaapad. It is a state of mind as well as a combat form which uses one’s own inner emotions to gain dominance in combat. It is a path that penetrates the penumbra of the dark side, allowing us to channel our inner darkness into a weapon of light.”

Master Windu stops moving as suddenly as he started, his face and body language both still as calm and impassive as ever. “I can teach you the moves and poses behind Vaapad, but ultimately your success will lie with your own ability to channel your passion and desire into combat. If you can open yourself fully to the Force and become a vessel for it to move through you, if you can allow yourself to become one half of a superconducting loop, even your enemy’s raw fury will simply flow through you and back upon your opponent, thus leaving you unharmed.”

“Let us begin with the opening stance.” Master Windu draws his lightsaber, igniting the blade and lowering its intensity as he raises his arm above his head, holding the weapon a horizontal guard, his body half-twisted as his off-hand sweeps across and down.

You and Anakin both do likewise, copying Windu’s movements as best as you can.

“From here, we flow into the second stance.” Master Windu proceeds to lead you and Anakin through a series of moves until he feels you have a solid grasp of the subject matter. “Now, you will duel.”

You and Anakin face off against each other, both holding your blades aloft above your head in Vaapad’s starting position.

“You may begin,” Master Windu instructs.

Anakin attacks and you parry his blow aside, using his momentum against him, spinning around to attack him from behind. Anakin blocks your strike and counterattacks. You both dodge and weave and strike, moving faster and faster as you attempt to copy Master Windu’s movements.

“You grasp the form but lack the feeling,” Master Windu comments. “Your movements are cold and emotionless. I expected more from you, Young Skywalker. Put your heart into it. You too, Bari. Show me some passion. Pretend like you want to win.”

Driven by Master Windu’s instruction, you try to summon some form of emotion as you and Anakin continue sparring.

Apparently, this still isn’t enough for Master Windu. “Your movements are too stiff, too calculated. Feel the heat of battle, give yourself over to the pleasure of combat, allow your passion to flow through you.”

Heat. Pleasure. Passion. Intellectually, you know Master Windu is talking about swordplay. His word choice however, strikes a different chord within you, stirring something you’ve been avoiding. A sudden warmth blossoms within your core, rising up your spine. Your mind wars with itself, torn between your newfound awareness of your own desire and the utter certainty you should not be feeling this, not towards your Padawan, not towards Anakin, certainly not with Master Windu watching.

“Yes, Bari, lean into your feelings,” Master Windu instructs.

His words only heighten your cognitive dissonance, pushing your emotional distress to a new level as frustration fills you. You’re tired of fighting with yourself, of trying to do the right thing and be the best Jedi possible. You miss your home, your family, your friends. You’re fearful of your nightmare becoming a reality, resentful of your inability to tell anyone about the dream, angry at yourself for still harboring these feelings for Anakin even though he’s your Padawan and you’re just trying to keep him from falling to the dark side. Fueled by the sudden burst of emotion, you spin and twirl, striking as quickly as you can. Anakin successfully blocks and parries your first several blows but you press the attack, breaking through his protection to successfully slice across his shoulder. His hand no doubt numb from your blow, Anakin drops his saber. You stop short of striking him again, feeling disturbed.

“Well done, Bari, that’s much better. Next time, try to allow the emotion to flow instead of restraining it. The longer you repress your feelings, the more tempting the dark side will become. I would like you to spend some time meditating on your emotions, acknowledging the darker parts of your psyche. You as well, Skywalker.”

You extinguish your lightsaber and bow to Master Windu. Anakin retrieves his saber and does likewise.

Released from your lesson, you begin the awkward walk back to your quarters, trying to reign in the mix of feelings still swirling inside you.

“Are you alright?” Anakin asks after several silent moments have passed.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “It’s been a weird day.”

Anakin nods sympathetically as he walks. “I’ll say. Master Windu’s training was… different from everything Obi-Wan ever taught me.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a laugh. “It was definitely different for me too.”

“You did pretty well though, especially given how rough your lightsaber skills were when we left Tatooine,” Anakin praises you. “You even managed to beat me, good job.”

You blush at his compliment, wondering if he’d still be giving you accolades if he knew what thoughts had been driving your emotions. Neither your attraction to him nor your fear of his fate seem like something he’d be happy to know about. “Thank you,” you say, pushing your thoughts and feelings behind the smokescreen of your one white stone.

Back in your quarters, you bid goodnight to Anakin and head for the fresher, stripping off your robes, hairsticks, claw, and the compass locket before seeking the solace of the shower. As you bask in the warmth of the water, your mind reminds you of Master Windu’s parting words. “Spend some time meditating on your emotions,” Master Windu said. Being a Jedi is so much harder than I thought it would be. I haven’t done anything fun since the party at Gardulla’s, you realize. And mentoring Anakin makes things even more challenging. Especially when I’m trying not to fall for him, you admit. Your mind wanders back to your dance together, how much you enjoyed his attention and the playful banter between the two of you. But I can’t allow that, you remind yourself. Anakin belongs with Padmé. Even if he doesn’t, he’s my Padawan. And what happens when I go home? It’s one thing for him to lose his mentor; they can just transfer him back to Kenobi. But if we were romantically involved, losing me could destroy him.

Despite the warmth of the water, a sudden chill races down your spine. What if your nightmare was a precognitive vision of a future where you give in to your feelings and Anakin falls to the dark side because of losing you? A sick churning fills your gut and you know you can’t be responsible for his downfall. Even if it means denying how attracted you are to him, how safe you feel in his arms, how you fall for him even more every time he does something endearing. 

No, I won’t be the reason he becomes Darth Vader, you affirm to yourself. I will spend the rest of my time here eating my feelings if that’s what it takes to save him. No matter how long the rest of my time here is, you think, bowled over by the combined weight of your homesick sorrow and your grief over knowing returning home means losing Anakin forever. As much as you miss your old life, how could you possibly go back to the doldrums of daily life after all you’ve seen and done? How could you go to work and grocery shopping knowing you’ve given up the ability to travel across the galaxy and wield a lightsaber? Now that you’ve felt the Force, what would it feel like to lose it? And worse than that, what would it do to you to lose Anakin? How could you possibly explain your grief over leaving him to your family and friends? How could you ever see anything Star Wars without crying your heart out? Do you really want to give all this up and go back home? Is going back home even an option? If you had to choose right now, what would you choose?

You scrub your skin as if doing so will untangle the quandary you find yourself in. You’ve wanted to be a Jedi your whole life. Ever since the first time you saw Star Wars, you’ve wanted to be a Jedi. Here you are, living out every fan girl’s secret dream, and yet you can’t let go of the quiet ache of homesickness filling your soul. 

Chapter Text

Much to your dismay, Dooku decides his first official training session as your mentor should involve him shadowing you during your morning meditation session with Anakin. Unnerved by his presence, you find yourself narrating a lot more than normal, as though doing so will calm your nerves.

One white stone. “If you try to meditate from your mind, you will fail,” you say, quoting your teacher’s teacher. “Meditation is an embodiment practice. When we sink our awareness and our breath into our body, when we allow ourselves to become rooted, we possess the foundation to rise above and survive the strongest of storms.”

You smile at Anakin, doing your best to ignore Dooku. Should the worst happen, you want this grounding practice of moving meditation to be what Anakin learns from you. You place your feet shoulder-width apart and move into the position for harmonizing qi, speaking meditatively as you bend your knees, slowly lowering yourself before raising back up again. “This may seem like a simple position, but it asks us to move with fluidity and composure, so we can face restlessness and agitation with ease and grace. We want to practice staying rooted in the midst of uncertainty and change.”

Breathing in, you raise your arms slowly and open them to the sides. Breathing out, you lower your arms and bend your knees slightly. Anakin mirrors you. Surprisingly, Dooku does as well. You focus on your own breath, synchronizing your body movements to the rhythm of your breathing, allowing the familiar cycle to calm you. On your next inhale, you cross your arms, raising them above your head. “I like to imagine I’m separating clouds and pushing them out of the way to see the light of the sun or the stars.”

At some point in your breathing you’ve become grounded and centered in your own body, no longer worried about Dooku’s presence or Anakin’s future. All that exists in this moment is your breathing and sharing the wisdom of your teachers with others. “Your breath should be long, slow, fine, even and deep.”

You exhale and lower your hands, shifting first one foot and then the other as you widen your stance and point your toes out. “Your movement is an accompaniment to your breath.” You inhale and bring your hands out to the sides at shoulder height before exhaling and tipping to the side as you bend your opposite knee. Inhaling, you straighten upright before exhaling and bending to the other side, relishing the sensation of stretching.

“I love this form because it helps us practice the art of balancing opposing forces while also feeling at ease.” Exhale, bend to the side. Inhale, rise back up again. From this pose you shift into the next and then into another, and so on through the rest of the eighteen forms. Finishing, you return to the beginning, and gather qi. “Let us collect the calm and peace we have found here today.” You raise your arms in a gentle arc until they are directly above your head. “Then we will take this calm, peaceful energy and fill ourselves with it.” You lower your hands slowly in front of your body, ultimately resting them upon your lower abdomen. “Taking a few deep breaths in, we center ourselves in our lower dantian.” You raise your dominant hand to the level of your heart and form it into a fist, placing the other on top of it before you bow three times. “First, we bow to each other in gratitude for learning and growing together. Then we bow to our teachers and all the teachers who came before them. Finally, we bow to ourselves, to those who gave us life — including our midichlorians and the Force itself.”

“Is this how you normally meditate?” Dooku asks.

“More or less,” you reply with a shrug. 

“Usually she doesn’t talk as much,” Anakin teases with a playful smile. “I kind of like this version better.”

“I see,” Dooku comments. 

See what? you wonder. One white stone. “Is something wrong, Master Dooku?”

“Not at all, my lady.” Dooku smiles at you. “I find your methodology rather refreshing even if it is unconventional. Perhaps you might treat the Council to a few lessons.”

Did he just… ask me to teach the Council something? You blink at him in confusion for a moment before you finally find your voice. “Of course, Master Dooku. It would be an honor to share the wisdom of my masters with you.”

“The honor would be ours, I assure you.” Dooku bows formally before excusing himself from the room.

You realize you still aren’t sure what to make of him or whether or not you can trust him. His observation could be part of his duties as a Council member or his observation could be part of his job as Sidious’s apprentice. He could also be observing you for his own ends. You haven’t spent enough time around him to say for certain one way or the other.

“Are you alright?” Anakin asks, jarring you out of your reverie.

“I guess.” You shrug. “I don’t know what to make of Master Dooku, is all.”

Anakin nods. “Yeah, he is kinda weird. But maybe that’s just ‘cause he’s old. Let’s go get lunch, I’m starving.”

After lunch. Master Windu meets you in the same training room from your previous lesson. 

“What did you learn about your feelings?” Windu asks as soon as you enter the room.

Beside you, Anakin stares at the floor. You don’t blame him. You aren’t ready to discuss your emotions out loud either. Not with Mace Windu and definitely not in front of Anakin.

One white stone. Pick something he’ll accept as true. “Loss. Pain. Guilt.” 

Master Windu nods. “Now that you’ve acknowledged your emotions, they can’t be used against you.” He turns and glares at Anakin. “What about you, Skywalker?”

Anakin shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “Disappointment. Guilt. Jealousy. Confusion.”

“Hmph.” Master Windu makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Good start, though I sense there is more to both of you.”

Master Windu gestures at the empty practice floor. “You may begin.”

You face off across from Anakin, breathing deeply into your core and focusing on your one white stone. Anakin exhales and leaps towards you, taking the offensive. You dance away and swing at him from the other side. He twirls out of your reach and back in again to attack you. You and Anakin continue to dance and swirl, trading blows back and forth, either blocking or dodging each other’s attacks. 

Master Windu observes you silently for some time until he decides otherwise. “Your passion, children, where is it? I could take a nap watching the two of you!”

Locked up someplace safe, Master Windu. Where it can’t leave me pregnant and choking on Mustafar. One white stone. You focus on your frustration with Master Windu, using spite as your motivation instead of passion.

Anakin narrows his eyes and fights back with an equal increase in force.

“That’s better, but I’m not convinced! What if this was a Sith Lord you were fighting?” Windu yells.

Your nightmare flashes across your mind’s eye as an image of Vader temporarily superimposes itself over Anakin’s face. No, you refuse. Not Vader, Anakin. You sink into your determination and reach for your love for Anakin, allowing it to flow through you instead of anything else. I won’t let you fall, you swear.

Anakin pushes back, his eyes a strange mixture of emotions you don’t have the time to interpret. Instead, you’re too busy fighting back against his rapid-fire lightsaber strikes, making sure to give as good as you get. You both continue until you’re drenched with sweat and shaking.

“Enough.” Master Windu calls for a halt. “You’ve done enough for today. Go hit the freshers and get yourselves some food. And continue meditating on your feelings.”

You stand under the soothing water, scrubbing your sweat away as you wonder what to do about Master Windu and his Vaapad training. Obviously he wants you to accept your feelings so a Sith Lord can’t use them against you; an altogether reasonable expectation for a teacher to have of their pupil. As a student of the way, you usually make a habit of sitting with and acknowledging your feelings. Unfortunately for you, this is the one time when accepting your feelings is the last thing you want to do. Accepting and acknowledging your feelings requires you to admit them first; another thing you don’t want to do.

Right now, your entire charade of normalcy hinges on the fragile state of denial you’ve built for yourself from the shattered fragments of your former life. At this point, you’ve been playing Indra Bari, Jedi Master and mentor of Anakin Skywalker, for so long you’re starting to forget who you used to be. Your old name, your old hobbies, your old room, your old job … the more you’ve thought about your old life, the more the memories of it feel like they belong to someone else entirely, a person who would have laughed until she cried if you told her she’d wield a real lightsaber one day. Yet here you are, spending your mornings in meditation with your Padawan before your daily visit to the crèche and your favorite younglings. You spend your afternoons training with Master Windu in the most closely-guarded-secret form of lightsaber training. You spend your evenings having dinner with your Padawan and reading before bed. 

You feel like you’ve become another person entirely. Truthfully, as much as you miss some aspects of your former life — the sound of ocean waves or crickets at night — as much as you feel homesick for Earth and the people you love, you also know in your heart of hearts you aren’t the same person who left DragonCon. Your journey here in the Star Wars universe — and all of the amazing experiences involved — have changed you indelibly in ways no one on Earth could ever possibly understand. Even if you did go back to Earth, part of you would always be homesick for Star Wars. In fact, the longer you’ve meditated on your homesickness, the more you’ve come to realize homesickness is an ever-present part of the human condition; we will always miss people and places we cannot ever return to. The best we can do is be present in the now because someday the current moment, too, will be another moment we miss. This realization is yet another indicator of your changes. 

If you admit to yourself just how different you are, you’ll have to admit to yourself the idea of returning home has somehow shifted from a driving goal to a secret fear. If you admit to yourself you’re afraid of suddenly teleporting home — the way you arrived here — you’ll also have to acknowledge you’re scared of being the reason Anakin becomes Darth Vader. If you admit you’re scared of causing Anakin’s fall to the dark side, you’ll have to admit how personally invested in and emotionally attached to his redemption you are. If you admit how invested in and attached to Anakin you are, you’ll have to admit just how deeply you care for him. And once you start admitting how deeply you care for Anakin, you’ll realize your feelings for him are entirely inappropriate for a Master to have for their Padawan. 

If you admit to yourself your feelings for Anakin are inappropriate, you’ll have to ask the Council to reassign him, and risk causing him separation trauma anyway. The only real solution is to either ignore your feelings and pretend they don’t exist — which you were personally content to do until Master Kriffing Windu had to force you to confront them — or admit your feelings, acknowledge them, and consign yourself to the daily agony of secretly loving Anakin Skywalker from behind a wall of propriety. Your heart aches at the thought and you realize you’re crying. 

This was always a terrible plan, you think. I should have kept my distance from Anakin. I never should have become his friend or let myself get close to him. And now it’s too late. I’m falling for him. I’ve been falling for him since he caught me on Ansion. Since he fixed my phone, since he told Drae who he was, since he came back for me, since he took those lashes to save me from becoming a whirlee, since he reinvented a Jedi wayfinder to make me feel better. Every time he hugs me, everytime he does something generous and kind, every time he makes me laugh, I fall for him.

But he’s my Padawan. And even if he wasn’t my Padawan, he’s still in love with Padmé. And even if he wasn’t still in love with Padmé, I can’t be the reason he becomes Vader. I won’t be. I have to love him enough to let him go. 

The saltwater of your tears mixes with the water from the fresher head, washing down your body to fall away down the drain and disappear into the hidden depths of Coruscant, taking your heart with it. Logically, you know the tears are headed to the water reclamation plant where they’ll become tomorrow’s drinking water and your broken heart still beats securely in your chest. Irrationally, you wish you could drain the pain from your psyche as easily as ripping your heart out to wash the feelings down the drain, sending your sorrow to swim in the sewers and be forgotten. Instead, the pain remains.

After your fresher visit and a second lunch, you head for the Senate Building and Padmé’s office.

As always, a handmaiden greets you at the door. “Master Jedi, the Senator has been expecting you. Right this way, please.” 

You notice she didn’t even acknowledge Anakin’s presence. You shrug apologetically at him before following Padmé’s handmaiden into a sitting room where several Senators await, including Padmé, Bail, Mon Mothma, Shmi, Aang, and three other Senators you’ve never met - a purple Keshiri, a brown human, and an alabaster Arkanian.

“Master Bari,” Padmé greets you. “These are Senators Ezsa Thox, Sarli Zythor, and Dukim Ica from the newly formed Military Oversight Committee.”

Newly formed? Oh, right. The Military Oversight Committee was formed to oversee the Clone Wars, you remember .

“It is an honor to meet you,” you say with a bow towards the senators. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” grumbles Senator Thox, the Keshiri, sounding as though pleasure is definitely not accurate to how he feels. 

“Pleased to meet you,” says Senator Zythor, the human, doing a better job of maintaining a Sabacc face. 

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” replies Senator Ica, the Arkanian, sounding entirely bored. 

“As I was saying,” Senator Aang begins with an irritated tone, suggesting your arrival interrupted him. “Basic medical examinations have been conducted on all members of the clone army — including neurological examinations. Preliminary findings show no evidence of chips of any sort.”

“I assure you, the chips are there,” you reply as you take a seat with the others. “However, the inhibitor chips are biochips, made entirely from organic material. Finding them will require more complicated and finely tuned scans such as those used to find brain tumors or lesions.” Try an MRI with contrast, you think to yourself. Not that you even know if Star Wars has those. 

“More funding , you mean.” Senator Thox stares at you in obvious disapproval. “As if this entire process hasn’t already been incredibly costly as it is.”

Of course it’s about money, you think, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. That’s what it always comes down to with you politicians isn’t it? You don’t care about what’s important or even right as long as you can save money. 

“And we don’t have anything other than your word to go on,” adds Senator Zythor. “Hardly something we can convince our constituents of.”

I know the Jedi have fallen from the Republic’s good graces, but seriously? This is how poorly you trust us? 

“What if the Separatists launch an attack and we need to defend ourselves? What if we never find them?” Senator Ica asks. “How long are we supposed to sit on this army while we chase your imaginary chips? How are we supposed to convince the Republic to support an army it can’t use because some Jedi says they have imaginary control chips in their heads?”

Imaginary chips? You take a deep breath, inhaling calm and exhaling the anger you feel. 

“If Master Bari says they are real, then I believe her,” Shmi interrupts.

Thank you, Shmi, you think. 

“As do I,” seconds Bail.

“And I,” thirds Mon Mothma.

“The Anti-Slavery Committee stands in unanimous support of Master Bari,” Padmé adds, her tone icy. “We demand the most detailed brainscan available. On one clone. If we find the biochips, we draft legislation to have them all removed. If we don’t, we will discuss what to do next.”

“I agree,” Senator Aang assents.

“As do I,” seconds Senator Thox, whose tone is once again at odds with his words.

“Aye,” thirds Senator Zythor.

“Fine,” agrees Senator Ica, clearly displeased. “You can use your own discretionary funds to do so.”

“Fine,” Padmé echoes, sounding eager for the meeting to be finished. “Until next week, then.”

Senator Aang and his fellow committee members nod politely before filing out of Padmé’s office. Bail and Mon Mothma bid their farewells before also leaving. 

Shmi lingers for a moment, pausing to speak with Padmé. “You know, dear, a little nap every now and again helps,” she says with a smile, patting the younger woman on the shoulder before she leaves the room.

“Speaking of which, if you’ll excuse us, I must get some food into the Senator.” Another handmaiden rushes past, obviously in a hurry. You wave goodbye to Padmé and take your leave. 

You and Shmi head for the reception area where Anakin and Kenobi wait, laughing together. Tsy stands against the wall nearby, stoic as always.

Shmi smiles when she sees her son, immediately walking over to wrap him in a hug. “Ani. It brings me so much joy to see you laughing with your friends.”

Anakin grins, looking the slightest bit embarrassed. “Thanks, Mom.”

Shmi stands on her toes to kiss the top of his head. 

Tsy detaches himself from the wall with a smile and nod in your direction before turning to Shmi. “Are you ready to leave, my friend?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Shmi smiles at her son. “A Senator’s work is never done, it seems. Good night, Anakin. I love you, my son.”

“Good night, Mom.” Anakin hugs her again impulsively.

You smile at the two of them, comforted Anakin has a support system extending beyond you. 

Chapter Text

Although you might once have said your daily training sessions with Master Dooku were the most unnerving part of your day, in actuality, your Vaapad sessions with Windu weigh on you more.

“What did you learn about your emotions?” Master Windu begins by asking you the same question each time.

“I learned homesickness is a constant,” you reply. “I will always miss and long for people and places lost to me.”

Master Windu nods, giving you a look comprised of equal parts surprise and respect. “Indeed.” As usual, he turns to Anakin next. “And you, Skywalker?”

“I learned I hate being invisible,” Anakin responds. “It doesn’t suit me.”

Master Windu actually laughs. “Thank you for your honesty, young Skywalker. I daresay most of the Jedi Council shares your sentiment. Ambition can be a powerful tool so long as you learn to weild it wisely instead of allowing it to wield you. You may begin.”

As usual, you and Anakin follow your confessional session with sparring. The two of you face off from each other, always starting in the beginning form. 

Master Windu allows you to settle into your match before he begins his commentary. “What are you, old men? Come on Bari, at least pretend he’s the Council and you’re arguing with him!”

Master Windu’s comment startles a laugh out of you and you narrow your eyes, digging into your stubbornness as you block Anakin’s attacks. 

“No, not like that! You need to form half of an infinite energy loop by opening yourself to his attacks and allowing the Force to flow through you instead of harm you!” Master Windu yells. 

Although you’re used to turning your opponent’s kinetic energy back on them, you aren’t quite sure how to do so with Force energy, especially as Anakin isn’t exactly attacking you with the Force. Besides, using your emotions to fight is the opposite of all your martial arts training over the years. Or maybe it isn’t and that’s the point. What if you can dig into your emotions and stay calm at the same time?

Anakin’s sudden whack to your wrist reminds you to focus on him and not your thoughts. He grins and presses his attack. You shake off the numbness and glare back. No way you’re letting him win.

Digging deep into your ongoing emotional confusion, you imagine yourself as a surfer riding ocean waves to victory. Gaining momentum, you pick up speed, backing Anakin into a corner, scoring at least two blows to his ribs as you do so. 

Anakin narrows his eyes and springs into action, pushing back against your attack until he has backed you against the opposing wall. He’s grinning like an idiot now, his eyes sparkling with joy. 

His charm is almost enough to distract you but you twist your original response into irritation and annoyance at him for almost distracting you and anger at yourself for almost falling for it. Not today, Anakin, you think, channeling your repressed emotions into even more speed and strength as you force him back.

“Excellent!” Master Windu claps. “Enough.”

You and Anakin stop short, chests heaving as you stare at each other, your competition far from over. “I said, ENOUGH .”

You tear your attention away from Anakin and bow to Master Windu. “Yes, Master.”

“You have shown me you are capable of harnessing your emotions, now show me you can control them. Continue meditating on your feelings. Dismissed.”

As usual, you spend your post-sparring fresher time wrestling with your emotions. First he wants me to own my feelings and now he wants me to control them? You sigh in frustration, wishing you could just lock your feelings away as easily as you unlocked them. Unfortunately for you, this hasn’t been the case. Admitting to yourself how you feel about Anakin Skywalker only makes it harder not to notice how often he wears his heart-stopping grin or how much you enjoy the sound of his laugh.

It has only been a week of self-inflicted torture, but you’re more than ready for this stage to be over. Eventually, you’ll get used to this feeling; you’ll grow around the awareness of how unfairly attractive Anakin is. Until then, you constantly remind yourself that he’s your Padawan. This mantra is the first in your line of defenses. As long as he remains your Padawan, you’ll both be safe.

As usual, one of Padmé’s handmaidens greets you at the door to her office while completely ignoring Anakin’s existence. You wonder if this is her own personal choice or the result of Padmé’s direction. You have noticed that Padmé hasn’t really been interacting with Anakin all that much herself, either. Then again, she also seems to be more exhausted than usual. Perhaps the extra work the clones require is taking a toll on her.

“Master Jedi,” Padmé greets you with a smile. “You arrived at the perfect time.”

“I did?” you ask with a smile as you take a seat.

“You did,” Padmé agrees with a grin as she gestures towards the far side of the room. “My astromech droid was just about to provide us with a holo-presentation.”

A familiar silver and blue astromech unit wheels into the center of the sitting area, beeping cheerfully as he projects an image into the air between all of you. 

Artoo!!! You take a moment to hold space for the sudden surge of joy you feel in seeing Artoo before focusing your attention on his holographic presentation.

A three-dimensional scan of an inhibitor chip hovers above Artoo’s projection beam.

“This,” Padmé says, a note of satisfaction in her tone, “is an inhibitor chip. The chip was found to have been surgically inserted into the prefrontal cortex of a randomly selected clone. The chip was successfully surgically removed and the patient has made a full recovery. I move we begin drafting legislation for the immediate scan and removal of every inhibitor chip.”

“I second this motion,” Bail responds.

“And I third,” agrees Mon Mothma.

“I also,” Shmi assents.

Senator Aang nods. “We recognize your motion and will present no obstacle. We move for an immediate investigation into this issue as a matter of galactic security.”

Senator Thox stares at you in a way you don’t find comforting. “How can we trust the Jedi Order didn’t do this?”

Unfazed, you stare right back at him. “You wouldn’t even know the chips existed without me telling you so.”

“Still,” Senator Ica says. “I second the motion of opening an investigation into this matter. We need to know what was programmed onto those chips, who authorized the programming, and what their plans were.”

“I third,” Zythor agrees.

Senator Thox nods his head slowly. “Agreed.”

“If there’s nothing else,” Padmé says. “I move to adjourn our meeting until next week.”

“Agreed.”

Without further ado, the senators file out of Padmé’s office.

“Would you care to join me for dinner this evening?” Padmé asks, surprising you as you are about to leave.

“Of course,” you automatically agree, imagining Anakin won’t complain about spending more time around Padmé. You’re also fairly certain that whatever Padmé chooses will be far better food than they serve in the Jedi Temple. 

You find Anakin and Obi-Wan in the reception area, laughing and talking with broad smiles on their faces.

“I’ve decided to go out for dinner,” Padmé announces. “Eirtaé, please handle any visitors. Sabé and Teckla, you can come with us.”

Obi-Wan stands up and straightens his robes, an odd mixture of exasperation and resignation on his features. “As you wish, my lady.”

Anakin rolls his eyes and makes a face at you. You smile in response, cutting your eyes at him as a nonverbal reminder to at least pretend to be polite and professional.

Captain Panaka and Teckla exit first, followed by Obi-Wan and Padmé. Anakin takes this opportunity to playfully stick his tongue out at you.

You mock glare at him in response before an ominous wave of unease washes over your consciousness. 

I have a bad feeling about this, you quote to yourself.

Sabé and a second member of Padmé’s security detail follow you out of the office, bringing up the rear. 

In the distance, you see a mouse droid rolling down the hallway towards your group and wonder for a split second what a mouse droid is doing in the Senate Complex. In the front of the group, Captain Panaka and Teckla seem to be wondering the same thing, as they approach the droid and demand its identification. The little droid wheels backward and pivots as if to bypass them. Captain Panaka draws his blaster. Teckla pounces the droid.

“Down!” Captain Panaka yells a split second before Anakin throws himself onto you, sending you both to the ground as a loud boom shakes the corridor. 

The world around you goes white, your ears ringing with the concussive force of the shockwave. You aren’t sure if you actually lose consciousness or not, only that you hover in a senseless haze until the ringing sound and the pressure of Anakin’s body tell you that you are conscious. 

Cheek pressed against the hard floor, you open your eyes. The first thing you see in the red haze of the emergency lighting is Padmé’s prone form on the other side of the hallway. Kenobi bends over her, frantically checking her for injuries, a single tear tracing a clean line down the soot on his bearded cheek as he screams something you cannot hear. 

Beyond them, Captain Panaka lies crumpled against a damaged section of wall, eyes closed, blood pouring from a wound on his head. Rubble lies strewn around him, chunks of wall, ceiling, and floor scattered about like the forgotten remains of a child’s block tower. Bits of durasteel girding peek through exposed sections of the structure. Circular lights embedded in the ceiling flash their garish glare across the scene, causing everything around you to flicker like the lighting in a cheap haunted house. The air around you is smoky, filled with an oddly sweet pungency. Every breath you take tastes like ash.

At the center of the blackened blast radius lies a bit of crumpled metal, warped beyond any recognition. Beside it, a fragment of Teckla’s veil flutters in a brief blaze before the building’s fire suppression system kicks in, spraying everything around the epicenter in a thin layer of white foam. Before you have time to process what’s happening, Anakin rolls over and sits up, pulling you into his lap, prompting a wave of vertigo.

‘Indra?’ His mental voice is filled with panic. ‘Are you alright?’

You blink up at him, torn between relieved laughter and panicked tears. ‘I think so.’

Sabé approaches you both, bending over and gesturing frantically at Padmé’s office before she rushes to the Senator’s side. The junior security guard runs past them to Captain Panaka, whom he hoists up onto his shoulder.

Anakin, meanwhile, has chosen to take charge of the situation. He lifts you into his arms while rising up off of the floor and dashes back into Padmé’s receiving room.  Anakin places you on a couch, and you watch as Kenobi carries an unconscious Padmé into the room, placing her on another padded sofa. The junior security guard deposits Captain Panaka on a third settée before scrambling to close and seal all of the blast doors, essentially locking all of you into the receiving room. The remaining handmaiden — Sabé — picks up Panaka’s blaster and plants herself next to Padmé.

Kenobi kneels on the floor next to her, oblivious to everything but Padmé, whose face he cradles in his hands while saying something you still can’t hear over the ringing in your ears.

Anakin draws his lightsaber and paces the room.

You blink, forcing your eyes to adjust to the emergency lighting, swallowing and stretching your jaw, hoping to pop your ears back into hearing while you wait for the vertigo to fade. Unfortunately for you, this does not work. Fortunately, however, your hearing slowly begins to return. You wish the alarms weren’t the first sound your brain registers.

Under the distant repetitive pulsation of the alarms, you begin to pick up voices.

“You could have been killed!” Kenobi sounds distraught.

“We could all die at any moment. That’s no reason to stop living our lives.” Apparently, Padmé is awake.

“You really must take this seriously, Padmé.” Obi-Wan stares at the Senator, his blue eyes shining with emotion. “Someone just tried to kill you.”

“I am taking this seriously, Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan?

Padmé stares back at him. “That bomb just killed my handmaiden and friend. What I am not doing is jumping to conclusions. You don’t know if that bomb was meant for me; it could have been intended for any member of the Senate — for all we know every member of the Anti-Slavery or Military Oversight Committees could have been the target. The bomb could have been sent by whomever was in charge of ordering the clones. The droid might have detonated it simply because my security team intervened. The droid could have been programmed to self-destruct to prevent someone tracing it back to its master. I know you’re upset, but instead of jumping to conclusions, why don’t you try investigating first?”

Kenobi opens his mouth to answer her when Padmé’s door alert chimes, the speaker system crackling to life.

“Senate Security. Open up.”

The junior security officer unlocks the door, admitting a team of four security officers and a medic.

The squad approaches Padmé. “Senator Amidala, are you alright, ma’am?”

“I am.” Padmé smiles back at them, looking pale under her makeup.

“We’ve cleared the corridor and believe the threat to be neutralized. Did you happen to witness the explosion, ma’am?” one of the guards questions her.

“I did,” Padmé responds. “We were headed out of my office when a strange droid approached us. My security chief and one of my handmaidens intervened to speak with it. The droid attempted to go around them and my handmaiden stopped it. At that point, the droid exploded.”

“This is when your handmaiden died?” the guard asks.

“Yes,” Padmé affirms.

“Thank you for your cooperation, ma’am. The medic will check you over while we talk to the other witnesses to see if anyone noticed any other details. If you think of anything else, please let us know.”

As promised, the medic begins her triage of Padmé while the guards split up and begin questioning people. They pick Anakin and Obi-Wan to interrogate first. You sit on the bench and wait your turn, nursing the throbbing ache beginning to pound in your head. Finished with the other two Jedi, the Senate guards approach Padmé’s personal junior security guard and her handmaiden next. Meanwhile, the medic pulls Padmé aside for as private of a conversation as this situation currently affords.

“And what about you, Master Jedi? What can you tell us, ma’am?” Apparently, your turn has arrived.

“We were headed out to dinner when I saw an MSE- series repair droid headed for our group. Captain Panaka and Teckla approached the droid and asked for identification. The droid backed up and pivoted as though it was trying to go around them. Captain Panaka reached for his blaster pistol. Teckla pounced on the droid. Then the Captain yelled ‘down’ and my Padawan dragged me to the floor right before the explosion.”

“That’ll be all. Thank you, ma’am.” Having finished their questions, the guards collect the rest of their squad while the medic comms for a stretcher for Captain Panaka and checks you and the others for injuries.

A stretcher arrives within moments, escorted by two more emergency medics who help hoist Captain Panaka onto the gurney. They’re wheeling him away when an entire phalanx of Senate guards arrive, escorting their Commander-in-Chief, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.

One white stone.

Palpatine rushes over to Padmé rather dramatically, thankfully ignoring both you and Anakin. “Padmé, my dear, when I heard the attack happened outside of your office I came straight away. Are you alright?”

“I am, thank you, Chancellor.” Padmé smiles sincerely at Palpatine. “My security crew performed admirably.”

“To be sure.” Palpatine pats Padmé’s hand. “I am most relieved to see you unharmed. Had it been you…” he pauses, sniffling. “I cannot bear to think of it. You simply must take more precautions, my dear.”

“Yes, Chancellor.” This time, Padmé’s smile is forced.

“This is exactly why I wanted you to have a Jedi protector. In fact, given the boldness of your attackers, we might all be safer with Jedi by our sides.” Palpatine’s smile is anything but comforting, his eyes darting between you and Anakin. 

I have a bad feeling about this.

One white stone.

Kenobi’s comlink chirps. “If you’ll excuse me, Chancellor.”

“Not at all, Master Jedi.” Palpatine waves Kenobi off with a fake smile. “I really ought to be going. Please, do consider what I said, my dear.” He pats Padmé on the hand once more before leaving.

Kenobi answers the comm. “Knight Kenobi.”

“Happy to hear your voice, am I.” Master Yoda sounds relieved. “Wish to debrief you, the Council does.”

“Senator Amidala. Brings my heart much joy to see you safe, it does.” Master Yoda greets Padmé before he addresses any of you. “Knight Kenobi, looking forward to your account, we are. Padawan Skywalker, Master Bari, curious as to your presence in the Senate Building, am I.”

“I invited them to dinner,” Padmé replies, even though Yoda wasn’t asking her. “As Master Bari is my friend and Ani is Master Kenobi’s friend, I thought they might like to join us.”

“Is this true?” Master Windu arches an eyebrow.

“Yes, Master Windu,” Kenobi replies. “We were on our way to dinner when the droid attacked Senator Amidala.”

Master Dooku is staring at you. His face says he isn’t buying your story but he’s not going to question you, either.

“What, exactly, happened, young Kenobi?” Master Plo Koon asks. 

“Senator Amidala’s Security Chief and her handmaiden approached the droid and asked for identification. The droid looked as if it were attempting to go around them. The security chief drew his weapon. The handmaiden grabbed the droid. I pushed Senator Amidala down on the ground and covered her body with mine as the bomb exploded.”

Master Koon nods slowly.

“Is this what you saw, Skywalker?” Master Windu asks.

Anakin nods. “It’s like Obi-Wan says. An MSE-6 maintenance droid approached our group in the hallway. When detained, it attempted to either flee or evade. Upon capture, it exploded, killing a handmaiden.”

“When the bomb exploded, where were you?” Yoda asks him.

“Protecting Master Bari and shielding her from the impact.” Anakin stares back at Yoda, his shoulders firm as though proud of his actions.

“Well done, young Skywalker. Proud of you, I am.” Yoda smiles at him. 

“And what do you think?” Master Windu stares you down. “You have been strangely quiet this evening.”

“I think Knight Kenobi believes Senator Amidala was the target.” You frown. “But the Senator is correct; we don’t know who the target really was; only that the target was someone they expected to be in that specific corridor at that time.”

Master Windu nods. “An excellent observation.”

Master Dooku is still staring at you. “What time do you usually leave Senator Amidala’s office?”

One white stone.

You stare at him in shocked silence, uneasily wondering how he knew to ask.

Master Dooku gives you his stern grandfather look. “Senator Amidala said you are friends. Do you often visit her at the same time?”

Although his ability to see through you feels uncanny, you notice Dooku is leaving you a lot of wiggle room to answer. “Yes. Senator Amidala has quite a tight schedule.”

“I think we should consider the possibility you were the intended target, young lady.” Dooku’s tone is as neutral as his expression. “There are any number of times and ways a potential assassin could have targeted Senator Amidala. But this is your one regularly scheduled trip outside of the Temple, is it not?”

You stare back at Dooku in shock, wondering what he’s up to. Is he the kind, grandfatherly Jedi Master you can trust? Or the cunning, manipulative Sith Lord working to take over the galaxy? One white stone. “Me? Why would anyone be trying to kill me?”

“Because you and your Padawan single-handedly took a planet away from Hutt control, freed their slaves, and did so on Boonta Eve itself.” Dooku gives you a look that says you should know better. “The droid may have been intended as a warning, my lady. I suggest you be more cautious in the future.”

Chapter Text

You wander through an insubstantial, mist-filled landscape, vaguely aware of how familiar this place feels. How many times have you been here before? Two? Three? Four? Where even is here? Where am I? 

Seeming to respond to your thoughts, the miasma before you begins to part, clearing a path for you to follow. Lacking any other brilliant idea of how to proceed, you choose to chase the clearing through the fog to wherever it may lead you. Eventually, the haze stops shifting and guiding you forward. 

Instead, the effluvium pools and swirls in jets and eddies around what appears to be almost a doorway, a flat portal of shifting, shimmering air hanging as if suspended by invisible wires. As before, this liminal, transitional space seems to function as a viewscreen or hologram of some sort, a window to another world. You watch as the scene beyond the strange passage shifts into focus, as though a pair of invisible hands dials in the details with an equally insubstantial lens. As the view sharpens, you suddenly recognize the tableau crystalizing before your eyes - your bedroom. It feels like forever since you’ve seen this place, these things.

Several of your closest friends are in your room, each focused on a different section of the space. Half-filled boxes sit strategically placed around the room, their contents slowly growing as your friends fill them with the remains of your life. Favorite clothing items, beloved books, geeky toys, random momentos and little keepsakes alike; all flow from their proper places around the room into cardboard containers, carried lovingly by your friends. As they labor, their tears fall. Their grief guts you.

Your heart aches to hug them. You watch as one of your friends picks up your oldest stuffie — a relic from your childhood — hugging it close. 

Don’t cry! I’m right here! I’m okay! You scream and cry out, yelling at your friends, begging them to hear you. No one responds; they seem to hear you about as well as television characters do when a viewer shouts at the screen, which is to say, not at all. Despair piles on top of sorrow, adding more mass to the tangle of emotions brewing inside of you. The longer you watch your friends process your possessions and mourn, the deeper the ache in your heart grows until you're certain you’re becoming a black hole. Surely you’ll collapse under the weight of your own grief any moment now. 

A stranger in a suit — someone you’ve never seen before — walks the room with a camera and a companion who steadily takes notes. They pause every now and again, directing questions to your friends as they document something — what, you aren’t sure. Your life perhaps? But why? 

What’s going on? What are you doing? Why are you boxing up my stuff? I live here! You watch with frustration as they pack your personal possessions away, emptying the space formerly known as your bedroom until no trace of you remains. A deep aching emptiness fills your gut, pulling at the bottom of your stomach, making you want to curl up into a ball and physically collapse.

Don’t leave! Come back! I’m right here!

As before, no one responds. Instead, they carry the last of your possessions out of your former living space, turning off the lights and locking the door as they leave. 

Wait, come back! Don’t leave me! You are left alone in the fog, staring at the shell you used to call home through some sort of transparent portal, certain your heart is breaking again. Around you, a steady rain begins to penetrate the fog, drenching you in no time at all.

Can anyone hear me?

You awaken to soaking wet cheeks and the sound of your own crying, combined with Anakin’s worried voice at the door. “Are you alright?”

To your chagrin, you’re unable to stop crying.

When you don’t answer him, Anakin opens your door and enters your room. Upon seeing your distress, he simply climbs into bed on top of the blankets and wraps himself around you in a gentle but firm hug.

“Another nightmare?” Anakin asks softly.

You nod your head.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

“My friends were packing up my things until there was nothing left of me,” you say through sniffles. “Then they turned out the lights and shut the door, leaving me alone in an empty, dark room.”

“Sounds like you’re afraid of being forgotten and abandoned,” Anakin replies in a soothing tone. “I promise I won’t forget you. Or abandon you.”

“How’d you get to be so wise?” you ask him with a startled laugh, genuinely surprised by his insight.

Anakin chuckles and continues hugging you. “I had an excellent teacher.”

“Pssh,” you almost laugh through your tears. “Now I know you’re teasing me.”

“Nah.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “If I was teasing you I would have said this is an astral way to show me up with Master Windu. I don’t think I can top ‘woke myself up crying,’ in terms of exploring my emotions.”

“Gee, thanks.” You laugh fully this time. “I didn’t realize we were competing.”

Anakin sputters and laughs so hard he almost chokes. “I call bantha dwang. We were both in that sparring session to win it.”

“Yeah,” you laugh-sigh, feeling a little embarrassed. 

“It’s alright,” Anakin reassures you. “I can take you; you’re not as lethal as they think.”

“That’s an unfair assertion for someone who currently has me trapped under the blankets,” you tease.

Anakin laughs again, hugging you tighter. “All part of my evil plan to win before you ever knew it was a contest.”

You wiggle and squirm in his grip while he laughs maniacally. Despite your intentions to resist, eventually his laughter is so contagious you wind up laughing along with him. By the time the two of you stop, your sides ache.

“Does this mean you admit you couldn’t win if I saw you coming?” you ask when you can finally breathe again.

“Maybe.” Anakin sounds like he’s grinning. “Either way, I win this round.”

You shake your head and sigh, relaxing into his embrace, pretending you aren’t secretly enjoying it. “Fine, I give up.”

Anakin laughs again for a moment, squeezing you tighter in another hug. “Better?”

“Yes,” you admit. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Anakin replies, hopping out of your bed. “That’s what friends are for. Goodnight.”

Unable to return to sleep, you get up and get dressed, impulsively deciding to seek out Master Yoda. As if guided by the Force itself, you follow your instincts through the Temple to a meditation chamber, where the Grand Master himself awaits you inside.

“Unable to sleep, you are?” Master Yoda asks as you enter the room, his eyes still closed as though he has been calmly waiting there for some time.

“How did you …?” You stop and stare at Master Yoda and the room. “Are you waiting in here for me?”

“Felt a disturbance in the Force, I did.” Master Yoda opens his eyes. “Concerned for you, I was. Please, sit.”

“Oh.” You’re genuinely stunned for a moment, not having expected this response. “Why were you worried?” you ask as you sit on the cushion across from him.

“Felt a vortex of Force energy around you, I did. Happened before, this has?” Master Yoda asks.

“Yes,” you reply, pushing away the still-terrifying memory of your first nightmare. 

Master Yoda frowns. “Like when you arrived on Ansion, this was?”

“No.” You shake your head. “Before Ansion I was awake and then everything went black. I awoke in Anakin’s arms. This time, and the other time, I was asleep and dreaming. It felt completely different.”

“Dream of what, did you?” Master Yoda asks. 

For the briefest of moments you hesitate, and then decide if anyone can help you, he can. “A fog-filled landscape, some insubstantial, shifting place of visions.”

“In these visions, see what, did you?” Master Yoda stares at you with a kind expression, his tone of voice calm and reassuring.

“In the first one, I saw a squad of Imperial troops and a Sith Lord, all looking for me,” you answer. “In the second, I saw my friends packing up my belongings before they closed the door and turned out the light, leaving me alone.”

Master Yoda nods his head slowly and frowns. “Many things, these dreams could be. Nightmares, products of your own fears, they could be. Illusions sent by a student of the dark side, they could be. Something else entirely, they also could be. Work in mysterious ways, the Force does.”

So these could be Force nightmares sent by Sidous? “A student of the dark side… you mean a Sith Lord?” You frown in return.

“Perhaps,” Yoda replies. “Perhaps not. Other students of the dark side, there are. Unusual, this energy was.”

Who else would send me nightmares though? It’s not like Talzin even knows I exist. Nor should the Sorcerers of Tund or the Prophets of the Dark Side. Or the remaining Sith on Exegol or in the Caldera, for that matter. “What should I do, Master Yoda?”

“Be careful, should you,” Master Yoda advises. “Question these dreams, you should. Until you know more, trust them, you should not. Interact with these visions or step through any portals in them, you should not.”

You nod slowly. “Thank you, Master Yoda.”

“Happy to help you, I am,” he responds. “Cautious, please be. Concerned you have drawn the attention of the dark side, I am.”

You’ve just finished eating breakfast with Anakin when your comm goes off, altering you to the Jedi Council once again demanding your presence.

“Again?” Anakin grumbles. “What did we do this time?”

“I honestly don’t know,” you answer him. “Just in case… are you ready to go back to detention?”

Anakin laughs, shaking his head. “I guess in detention at least it’ll be easier for me to get to you when you have another nightmare.”

“Gee, thanks,” you reply playfully, sticking your tongue out at him as you walk.

Anakin laughs. “I’ll survive. It’s better than endless Senate meetings and late nights at the office.”

You give him a look as he rounds a corner in the hallway.

Anakin shrugs. “I’m just saying, life with you is more interesting than life with Kenobi was. Or than his life is currently.”

“Thanks, I think,” you reply with a little laugh.

“It’s definitely a compliment.” Anakin straightens up and slows down as you approach the Council Chamber.

The guards wave you in.

“Good Morning, Masters,” you greet them. “You wanted to see us?”

“The Chancellor has requested an audience with Padawan Skywalker this morning. He has also requested for the two of you to be assigned as his personal security detail. In light of yesterday’s Senate bombing, the Council is more than willing to accommodate the Chancellor’s request, especially as doing so means having two pairs of eyes and ears inside of his office.” Master Windu gives you a significant look. “However, this does not absolve you of your responsibilities. You will still continue your daily sessions with myself and Master Dooku. Am I making myself clear?”

The Chancellor wants us on his security detail? You’ve got to be kriffing kidding me. Did he send the bomb just so he could pretend he was scared and needed Jedi bodyguards? This is obviously just a ploy to have time alone with us. One white stone. “Yes, Master Windu,” you answer.

“Good. Padawan Skywalker, you are temporarily excused from today’s training exercise. This afternoon, however, you will resume.”

“Yes, Master Windu,” Anakin replies.

“Master Bari, report to the usual training room. We will begin your session.”

Brilliant, yes, send him off to face his manipulative abuser alone. What a wonderful plan, Master Windu. What could possibly go wrong? One white stone.

Before you can respond, a blinking light flashes on Master Yoda’s chair. “Urgent, this is.”

A blue hologram materializes in the air above the circular platform in the center of the room, depicting the three-dimensional forms of Quinlan Vos and Asajj Ventress, their hoods up against the rain you hear hissing on the other end of the holocall.

“We reported to Kamimo as ordered, Master Yoda, but the only people here who had any contact with Master Sifo-Dyas — or whomever was posing as him — are dead,” Vos reports.

A chill rushes down your spine and you shiver in response. Nala Se and Lama Su are both dead? Who could have done that? Is this my fault for talking about the inhibitor chips? 

“Could have been anyone on Kamino,” Vos comments as if answering your unasked question. 

“They were both killed with a Kaminoan weapon,” Ventress adds, her tone suggesting she disagrees. “The murderer was quiet and efficient. No witnesses. No evidence other than the weapon. Security footage was tampered with beforehand. This was done by a professional.”

Fantastic, you think, making an effort to keep your face completely blank. Someone ordered a hit on the only witnesses to the original clone order. One white stone. 

“Indeed,” Master Yoda comments. “Troubling this is. Return to Coruscant, you should.”

“Thank you both,” Dooku adds. “You have done well.”

The transmission terminates, an uneasy silence hanging over the room.  

Master Windu looks at you and Anakin. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

You follow Anakin out of the Council Chambers, eager to catch up with him before he leaves the Temple. “Anakin?” 

“Yeah?” You can tell by his smile he’s excited to go see Palpatine. 

As much as you love seeing his joy, you would be a terrible friend and an even worse mentor if you didn’t say something and warn him to be careful around Palpatine. Unfortunately, you also know he probably won’t take your concern seriously or without taking offense. Nevertheless, what you have to say to him is absolutely necessary and true as well as kind — or kind in a protective way, at least.

“Please be careful, today,” you begin gently, keeping your tone as neutral and inoffensive as possible.

Anakin gives you a weird look for a moment. “Of course. I promise to avoid every strange droid I see and come back alive and in one piece.”

“I mean, not because of bombs, but that too.” You smile awkwardly, hoping to soften the blow of your words. “Remember to shield your thoughts and be aware of your emotions.”

Anakin laughs. “I’ll be fine, it’s just the Chancellor.”

“Still.” You continue smiling patiently. “Don’t allow him to manipulate you.”

Anakin laughs again. “It’s fine. He’s my friend. He’s not going to do anything.”

“Anakin.” You tilt your head, giving Anakin a look.

“What?” He stops walking and turns to stare at you.

“He is not your friend,” you remind him.

Anakin chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Look, just because you’re jealous I have friends doesn’t mean they’re all out to hurt me.”

Anakin’s words hit your stomach like a gut punch. Jealous?! Why does he think I’m jealous? I have friends, thank you very much. Hurt by his accusation and the vehemence in his tone, you drop your smile and all the gentle padding you use to cushion your words. “Tell me, Padawan Skywalker, do friends take underage children to cantinas where people are bought and sold? Do friends take each other places to be triggered and retraumatized? Do friends tell you to keep your trauma a secret? Do friends use guilt and fear to isolate you from your caregivers? Do friends take young children to a casino and brothel instead of opening a Senate investigation into the place? Tell me, what exactly has he done to make your life better or prove himself your friend?”

“He listened to me,” Anakin protests. “He told me the truth.”

“He only listened to you in order to gain your trust, Padawan.” You stand with your hands on your hips, continuing to give Anakin a frustrated look.  “And he only told you his version of the truth, a story deliberately spun in such a way as to weaken your trust in government and democracy as well as your faith in the Jedi Order. He crafted every moment of that excursion to persuade you to see things and feel the way he wanted you to feel. He was setting you up for the future, weakening your trust in everyone but him by taking advantage of your vulnerability and using it to convince you he’s the only one you can believe in.”

Anakin is glaring at you now. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I though, Padawan?” You take a calming breath, refusing to allow his emotional state to impact yours. Instead, you open yourself, imagining you are a conduit, one half of a figure eight for his anger to flow through harmlessly. “If I’m so wrong, why are you ready to fight me for simply saying he’s not your friend? Why do you feel the need to defend him? What has he done to earn your loyalty?”

By this point, Anakin’s face is as dark and brooding as a full-blown storm cloud. “Because he IS my friend, Master .” He throws the final word at you like a knife before turning to stalk away, anger evident in every line of his body.

As much as his word choice hurts you, even in the moment, you have to admit he learned it from you. 

Chapter Text

By the time Anakin reaches the Chancellor’s office, he has almost forgotten his argument with Indra in favor of his excitement over seeing his friend again.

“Anakin!” The Chancellor greets him with a warm smile and a hug. “It’s so good to see you, son. I’ve missed you.”

Hearing the familial term from Palpatine’s mouth — rather than Cliegg’s — seems odd now, but Anakin doesn’t stop to think about it. “It’s good to see you too, Chancellor.”

“How have you been, my boy?” The Chancellor focuses his full attention on Anakin. “It seems like so long since our last visit together.”

“I’ve been good.” Anakin shrugs, uncertain of what to tell him. “You probably know everything already.”

“Still,” the Chancellor says with a smile. “I would love to hear it directly from you. How was it to podrace again? It all sounds so exciting! When I was a young boy, I loved to race, have I ever told you that?”

Anakin smiles at his excitement, reminded of why he loves the Chancellor in the first place. Palpatine has always made him feel important, valued, and cared for. “It wasn’t as much fun as you might think,” Anakin says with a sad smile. “It’s hard to enjoy something when your friend’s life is hanging in the balance.”

“Indeed.” Palpatine frowns, reaching out to pat Anakin on his shoulder. “I imagine your friend is quite glad you won.”

Anakin laughs. “She definitely was. Everyone was, actually.”

“How did you celebrate?” the Chancellor asks with a broad smile. 

“By taking over Gardulla’s palace and winning our freedom,” Anakin replies with a grin.

“Excellent!” The Chancellor claps his hands, beaming broadly. “I’m so proud of you, son.”

Anakin smiles in response, feeling warm and loved. “Thank you, Chancellor.”

“You’ve always had such a kind heart, much like Padmé.” The Chancellor’s smile falters and he looks to the side, suddenly appearing awkward.

“What is it, Chancellor?” Anakin asks, feeling concerned.

“I’m afraid she works entirely too much, especially now.” Chancellor Palpatine smiles again, though this smile is entirely false.

Anakin frowns. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Chancellor.”

Chancellor Palpatine looks around surreptitiously, even though they are alone in his office. “I’m worried about her health,” he says with a quiet voice. “And that of her unborn child.”

Anakin’s entire mental landscape comes crashing down around him and he instinctively reaches for Indra’s one white stone. Padmé’s pregnant? Padmé’s pregnant?! Anakin blinks at the Chancellor in total and complete confusion. He can’t fathom that Padmé, the woman he’s supposed to marry, is pregnant, much less why the Chancellor is telling him. Unless the Chancellor thinks I am the father? But, I can’t be the father; I haven’t spent any time with her. The only person who has is … Anakin’s train of thought crashes into a mountain and implodes, belief and disbelief warring in his brain.

The Chancellor watches him, obviously waiting for something.

Anakin feels like the walls are closing in on him, like he can’t breathe, like he needs to run and scream and just escape the chaos in his brain. Struggling to maintain his composure, he grips his one white stone and bows to the Chancellor. “I’m sorry, Chancellor, I’m not feeling well. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course, my boy.” The Chancellor smiles and begins to say something else, but Anakin is already bolting from the room, racing to the lift and Padmé’s office. 

He slows his pace and his breathing as he approaches her office door, pressing the comm button calmly. “Anakin Skywalker. I’m here to speak with Senator Amidala.”

The door opens.

“Ani! Mesa so smilin to be seein’ yousa!” Jar Jar grins happily. “How yousa been doing?”

Before Anakin can answer, the sound of raised voices from another room interrupts them.

“I still can’t believe you would register our children without my permission!” Padmé sounds furious.

“Registering their conception is not optional, Padmé.” Obi-Wan sounds just as angry. “As a Jedi, I am required to register any children I sire with the Order so they can be raised and trained by the Order. As their father, it is my duty to protect them. What would you have me do? Lie to the Council?”

Sabé comes rushing into the room, a look of agitation on her face. “I’m so sorry; the Senator isn’t receiving any visitors right now. I must ask you to leave.”

Disbelief, shock, and betrayal compete for Anakin’s attention. For a moment, he is frozen in place and then he flees, escaping Padmé’s office and the reconstruction efforts in the hallway for the stairs, where he leaps from landing to landing in his headlong rush to reach the safety of his mother’s office.

“Mom, it’s me.” Anakin pleads to the door-comm, his voice thick with anguish. “Please let me in.”

The door opens immediately. Cliegg stands on the other side, wearing a look of concern, his arms wide open. “Your mother isn’t here, son; she’s in a meeting. Baxt can comm her and tell her you’re here.” Cliegg waves an arm at his Nikto guard, who leaves the room to comm Shmi. “Come in. Tell me what’s wrong while we wait for her.”

Anakin dives into Cliegg’s arms and lets go of the wall around his tears, allowing them to flow freely onto the other man’s shoulder.

Cliegg wraps his arms around Anakin and pats his back slowly. “It’s alright, son. Whatever it is, your mother and I are here with you. We’ll face it together as a family. “

After an indeterminate amount of time, Anakin feels calmer, pulling back to look at Cliegg. “Thank you.”

Cliegg smiles at Anakin, pulling him into a tight hug. “Of course, son. We love you. You’re always gonna be our kid.” Cliegg releases Anakin with a gentle smile. “Now, why don’t we sit down and you tell me what’s going on?”

Anakin plops down into a seat perpendicular to Cliegg, so that they are sitting beside each other but still facing each other. “Padmé’s pregnant,” he blurts out, beginning to cry again. “With Obi-Wan’s children. They betrayed me.”

Cliegg nods. “You sound hurt, son.”

“I am.” Anakin’s heart is pounding in his ears. “Obi-Wan was like my brother. How could he …” Anakin stares off into the corner of the room, running his hand through his hair. He can’t bring himself to think the words, let alone say them. “How could he have babies with the woman I’m going to marry?”

Cliegg sighs, leaning forward to place his hand on Anakin’s knee. “Anakin, I understand you feel betrayed right now, son. Especially by this man you consider your brother. But Senator Amidala… has she ever shown any interest in you? Dated you? Kissed you?”

Anakin exhales slowly, releasing some of his anger with his out-breath the way Indra has taught him. “No. She either treats me like a kid or ignores me.”

Cliegg nods slowly. “Son, I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but nobody owes you their affection, no matter how you feel about them. I understand you’ve wanted to marry her since you were a boy, but part of growing up is realizing when some things just aren’t right for us. Would you be happy if those were your kids she was carrying? Or would you be miserable and scared for her and those babies?”

“No,” Anakin admits, remembering his conversation with Indra at the reception as well as all of his conversations with Obi-Wan since then. “Padmé is a work-a-holic who is married to her job. I want more than that.”

“Then did she really betray you?” Cliegg holds Anakin’s gaze with his own.

“No.” Anakin sighs. “But Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan knew how I felt about her.”

Cliegg nods slowly. “I understand you feel betrayed by your friend, son. And I think that’s something worth discussing with him once you’ve calmed down and thought it over. But let me ask you this: if one of Venya’s girls said she was going to grow up and marry you, how would you feel?”

“What? No! Ewww.” Anakin makes a face. “That’s sweet of them, but no. Ew.”

“Okay,” Cliegg continues. “Should that idea of hers stop you from being with an adult you love?”

“No.” Anakin exhales again, suddenly realizing what Cliegg is trying to say. “You’re saying Obi-Wan didn’t take my feelings seriously because I was a kid and she was an adult?”

“I’m saying that’s probably how he feels about it,” Cliegg suggests.

“How who feels about what?” Shmi asks as she enters the room with Threepio, Venya, and Tsy.

Cliegg looks at Anakin. “It’s your story, son.”

“Padmé and Obi-Wan are having babies,” Anakin says, still feeling resentful.

“I see.” Shmi walks over and sits down beside her son, putting her arm around him. “How are you feeling about this news?”

“It’s not fair,” Anakin says, leaning into her embrace. “I always dreamed I was gonna marry her.”

“I know,” Shmi says. “The hardest part of growing up is realizing sometimes our childhood dreams don’t come true. Sometimes it’s even better that way.”

“Is it though?” Anakin says, still feeling sorry for himself.

“Oh, yes.” Shmi laughs quietly. “I never dreamed of you, my son. Or Cliegg. Or being a Senator. Sometimes, when our dreams don’t come true, it’s because something even better is already on the way.”

“I dunno.” Anakin sighs. “Better than Padmé?”

“Yes,” his mother replies without hesitation. “She is beautiful. And smart, and kind. But she is also single-minded in her focus.”

“I know.” Anakin sighs again, burying his face in her shoulder.

“And I know you, Ani.” Shmi kisses the top of his head. “You would not have been happy with Padmé as a partner. And I think you know that too.”

“I do.” Anakin sits up, imagining more stress leaving his body as he exhales.

“Then what are you really upset about, my son?” Shmi gives him a look he knows all too well.

Anakin stares at her in contemplative silence while he processes. “I’m confused,” he finally says. “I don’t know what my life is going to look like.”

“What do you want it to look like?” Shmi asks him.

“I want to get married and have kids with someone who loves me as much as I love them.” Anakin stops and thinks. “And to be a Jedi, to get to help people. That’s all.”

“That sounds like a lovely life, Ani.” Shmi smiles at her son. “You just need to pick someone who’s crazy about you to share it with.”

Anakin laughs, feeling embarrassed. “Okay, Mom. Sure.”

“How did you find out about Padmé’s pregnancy?” Shmi asks, changing the subject. She sounds as if she has known about Padmé for a while.

“The Chancellor told me…” Anakin stops, remembering how Palpatine was watching when he told him. He was trying to manipulate me. But why? Because he thought I was the father and would have some sway over Padmé? Because he knows I’m not and wants to destroy my relationship with Obi-Wan? He was trying to accomplish something by telling me; what was it?

Shmi shakes her head. “I don’t see where that’s any of his business or why he thinks he should be talking to you about it, either. I already didn’t like him.”

“You’re not the only one.” Anakin sighs. “Indra and I had a fight about him. She said he wasn’t my friend because he took me to a cantina in the Coruscant underworld.”

“Anakin.” Shmi’s tone changes completely to her quiet, angry one and he knows he’s said too much. “ What cantina?”

“Club Kasakar…” Anakin answers with a hesitant smile, hoping she won’t be mad at him.

Shmi shakes her head, looking worried and that odd mix of protective and mad she always got before a podrace. “You’re Bail’s informant, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Anakin hangs his head, realizing he’s made her worry again.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on?” Cliegg asks.

“About eight years ago, the Chancellor took our son to an underworld cantina known for being part of the underground slave trade,” Shmi answers. “It’s the club at the center of the current Senate scandal; hundreds of Senators have already been arrested for their involvement with Club Kasakar and hundreds more are being indicted. Just visiting the place is grounds for a galactic search warrant.”

“Sometimes, I really dislike Coruscant,” Cliegg comments quietly, cracking his knuckles. “Too bad we can’t convince the Chancellor to visit Tatooine.” His face darkens for a moment before he abruptly switches topics. “So … you got mad at Indra for telling you the Chancellor wasn’t your friend? Did you ever consider the possibility she might be right?”

Anakin stares at Cliegg, struggling with his own stubbornness and the sudden realization that perhaps he was not only wrong, but also a horrible karkhole about it.

“If I may be so bold as to voice my opinion,” Venya comments, “I trust our Lady Jedi. Her tactical awareness and planning helped free us all. But also, I can tell you from meeting him once; the Chancellor is the sort of man you do anything to avoid being gifted to. I would rather die than be forced to spend a night with him alone. He’s a Hutt in human skin.”

“I agree,” Tsy adds from his position against the wall. “Our Lady Jedi is an insightful and capable tactician and warrior. If she says someone is not to be trusted, she is correct. The man is all oil and shine. I do not trust him myself.”

Anakin looks around the room, from one face to another. It’s not just Indra; none of his family and friends like the Chancellor either. Maybe Indra was right; maybe Chancellor Palpatine has been emotionally manipulating him for years. Maybe she was just doing her job as his mentor and pointing it out. Maybe, telling him the truth is what good friends do. Telling him the truth is what the Chancellor always said he was doing, after all. Certainly it’s what his family and community are doing right now. Mom has always told me the truth my entire life, even when it was hard for her to do so. None of these people have any reason to lie to me. They aren’t liars. They’re my family and friends. But Palpatine is a politician. Like Padmé, making people like him is his job. And like Padmé, there’s Chancellor Palpatine and there’s Sheev; the political mask he wears to curry favor and the day-to-day reality of who he is underneath the mask.

The longer he thinks about it, the more he suspects Indra was right. They’re all right. Anakin feels a little sick to his stomach, and a lot uncertain. How can I trust myself when everyone else knew Palpatine was a bad guy — but I didn’t? How can I trust myself when I still don’t really know Palpatine is a bad guy? I just have to trust my community’s desire to protect me.

Anakin shakes his head and sighs, suddenly aware everyone is staring at him. “I’m such a complete and total koochoo.”

“No, my son,” his mother says. “That is one thing you are not. You are incredibly brilliant and always have been. You are also kindhearted and trustworthy and it never occurs to you others are not. You always see the best in people, Ani. I love that about you.”

Anakin shakes his head, certain he’s a total sack of bantha dwang. “Except when people are telling me what I don’t want to hear. Then I turn into an angry karkhole.”

Cliegg chuckles. “I don’t know about that, son. You’re doing pretty good right now.”

Anakin laughs a little. “That’s ‘cause you’re my family.”

“And Indra isn’t?” Cliegg asks. “That girl brought you to visit your family, negotiated a truce with the Sand People, took you on trips to free slaves, risked her life and so much more than you can possibly imagine to help the White Suns, and you don’t realize she’s your family yet?” Cliegg frowns, his brow furrowing as he gives Anakin the disappointed dad look. “Son, no disrespect to Senator Amidala, but she’s not the sort of woman you bring home to Tatooine. The desert would swallow her whole. Your Jedi friend, on the other hand, has literally walked through hell for you and you think she has anything other than your best interests at heart? That’s not the sort of woman you fight with, son. That’s the sort of woman you ask to marry you.”

Anakin inhales involuntarily, choking on his own saliva, embarrassing himself by gasping awkwardly for air while his mother pounds his back. As his eyes water and his nervous system floods with endorphins, his brain experiences a sort of meltdown, an engine fire of epic proportions. On the one side, his childhood infatuation with Padmé struggles for air, having been slowly suffocated by her treatment of him and the truth of who she is under the mask of the Senator — a perpetual workaholic with no personal life. On the other side, his growing awareness of Indra as an attractive woman pushes up through cracks in the walls, threatening to overtake the relationship structure of Master and Padawan. Now that Cliegg has broached the topic and Anakin’s stopped to consider the possibility of Indra as something more than his mentor and friend, a flood of sensory information pours into his brain.

He remembers how stunning she was in her whirlee outfit, makeup on, laughing and jumping on a bed with him, how he could barely look at her in that outfit, how he had to force himself to keep his eyes on her face. He remembers the amazing feeling of her fingers on his lips as she smeared her lipstick across them, how his impulse to kiss her surprised him. He remembers the feeling of her in his arms as he leapt across the lift shaft, how much he enjoyed being the one to rescue her, how good she smelled even after battle. He remembers how gorgeous she looked in her leather armor, face flushed from combat. He remembers how fun she was to dance with, how well she fit into his arms, how much he never wanted that moment to end. He remembers how terrified he felt when the bomb exploded, how worried he was about her, how happy he felt when she opened her eyes, how good she felt on his lap and in his arms, how he needed to pace to hide his reaction. He remembers how beautiful she is even when she’s crying, how much he enjoys holding her.

When he can breathe again, Anakin blinks at Cliegg. “I uh…”

Cliegg laughs, shaking his head as he pats Anakin on the knee. “You don’t need to say anything to me, son. What you need to do is go find the phenomenal woman who has been bending over backwards to improve your life and beg for her forgiveness while you still have a chance with her.”

Given direction and a sense of hope, Anakin hops up from his seat and impulsively hugs Cliegg. “Thanks,  Dad.”

Chapter Text

Heart still heavy from your fight with Anakin, you meet Master Windu in the indicated practice room. You take up your usual position across from him, bowing politely as always.

Master Windu begins by giving you a “say ‘what’ one more time” look and you immediately know you’re in for a difficult training session. “All right, young lady, enough bantha dwang. We need to talk about your feelings for your Padawan.”

Master Windu’s words are a fist aimed for your gut; you feel slightly sick and struggle to breathe. One white stone. “I…”

He cuts you off, his Jules Winnfield-esque look intensifying. “Look, I don’t care if you’re in love with him or you just want to kriff his brains out. I don’t care if you want to have his babies. In fact, go right ahead and make us a bunch of smart, powerful Jedi babies to train. How you feel about him is none of my damn business. What is my business is how your continued refusal to accept this truth about yourself has created so much inner conflict in you that you reek of it. If I can sense your inner conflict, you can guarantee a Sith Lord will as well. Your inner turmoil presents a Sith Lord with the perfect opportunity to corrupt both you and your Padawan. Unless you want the Chancellor to seize upon your strife and use it to make Skywalker suffer, I suggest you come to terms with your feelings for him.”

Stunned by his speech, you stare at Master Windu for several silent seconds before speaking. “But Master Windu, I…”

He glares at you again. “Get over yourself, youngling. You are far from the first Jedi to develop feelings for another member of the Order. You are a young, hormonal human who just lost their entire planet. Your reproductive instinct is going to be in overdrive, as is your need for human connection and emotional intimacy. These are perfectly normal biological coping mechanisms and responses to loss. No one on the Council is going to judge you for being human. We knew when we placed the two of you together what would likely happen. We decided then, as your elders, that an intimate relationship between the two of you would be far less harmful for Skywalker’s development than one with the Senator. He needed a distraction to keep him out of trouble. You needed an emotional tie to the Jedi Order to help you integrate into the Temple.”

You stare at Master Windu in shock, reeling from the emotional impact of his words. Realizing he knows about your feelings for Anakin is embarrassing enough, but having him confront you on your inability to accept them is absolutely humiliating. Then there’s the knowledge the Jedi Council set you and Anakin up for this scenario in the first place. This fact is salt in your open wounds.

“I am not telling you to act on your feelings or even talk to your Padawan about them,” Master Windu continues. “I am telling you to get your exhaust port in gear before you serve yourself up on a golden platter as prey for our local Sith Lord.”

You frown, your overloaded brain finally processing some of his earlier words. “Unless you want the Chancellor to seize upon your strife…” “By our local Sith Lord, you mean…”

“Chancellor Palpatine?” Master Windu raises his eyebrow and purses his lips. “I am the Order’s senior Sith Hunter, young lady. I have suspected him for a while because of the art in his office. Master Yoda told me about your accusation only because it confirmed my suspicions. Unfortunately, I have not been able to spend enough time in his office to catalog or document the art, which is where you and your Padawan come in. I need the two of you to be my eyes and ears. I need you to document his office, his conversations, his daily routine, everything. If we want to remove him from power, we need proof we can take to the Senate. But I need to know I’m sending in a Sith Hunter and Padawan pair with the tactical planning to take down the Hutts, not an angst-ridden, hormonally driven pair of younglings with poor impulse control. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” You haven’t finished mentally or emotionally grappling with everything Master Windu said. You also don't exactly want to process it with him. 

“Good. Let us begin.” Master Windu assumes Vaapad’s starting position, nonverbally indicating you should spar with him.

Great. One white stone. You face off across from Windu, making sure you saber is in stun mode before assuming the starting position.

“Start.” Master Windu pauses, waiting for you to make the first move. When you do not, he rushes you, taking you off your feet almost immediately. 

He backs off and waits for you to stand back up. “Again.”

Master Windu continues rushing you over and over again until you grow so frustrated you want to scream, channeling your breath into a loud exhale as you spin out of his way and behind him, almost striking him from behind. 

Master Windu, however, flips away. “Better. Again.”

You continue sparring with Master Windu until your lungs burn and your muscles ache.

“Enough.” Master Windu stops and turns off his lightsaber, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Go soak your muscles before they stiffen. And think about what I said. I will tell Master Dooku you will see him this evening.”

Heeding Master Windu’s advice, you return to your quarters to wash off the sweat before soaking your muscles in a bath. Ensconced in water warmed to your ideal temperature, you lean back and close your eyes, resting your head on an inflatable pillow to process.

Master Windu knows. He made it sound like they all know. And not just know, but planned this all along. I’m a tool for them to reign in Anakin, someone to distract him from Padmé and Palpatine. You sigh, your internal tension warring with your desire to relax.

“I suggest you come to terms with whatever your feelings for him are.” Master Windu’s voice echoes in your mind. I’m in love with him, you think. Even when I’m mad at him for being a complete himbo, I’m still in love with him. And trying not to be. That’s the problem. I have been falling in love with Anakin Skywalker since the Force dropped me in his arms, while also trying desperately not to be in love with him because I don’t want to get hurt. Or hurt him.

Even though he’s my Padawan. Even though he loves Padmé. Even though he might still become Darth Vader, I’m in love with him. None of that matters. A sudden stream of tears surges down your cheeks, falling to mingle with your bath water. And, according to Master Windu, I just have to accept this truth about myself. Even though he might fall to the dark side. Even if he never returns my feelings. Even if he is technically my student, I have fallen in love with him; I have to find a way to be okay with that.

You sigh, exhaling your pain into the air around you with your out-breath. Anakin doesn’t owe me his love anymore than Padmé owes him her love. He doesn’t owe me the moral high ground either. Anakin has to do and be what is best for him, no matter what I think or feel about it. And if I truly love him, I’ll love him no matter what. He deserves as much. 

I can’t believe the Council put us together on purpose! What the kriff is that? Out of everything Master Windu said, that revelation is the most difficult to accept. You grapple with the realization Master Windu and Master Yoda are sending you to Palpatine’s office as a spy. Given what you did on Tatooine, you understand why they would think the two of you are perfect for this assignment. Even so, “Hey, I need you to go spy on the Chancellor but he’s gonna sniff out your feelings for your Padawan so you might wanna do something about that. Oh, and, by the way, the Council set the two of you up.” Gee, thanks, Master Windu. 

Realizing the water has grown cool around you while you processed your morning, you drain the tub and climb out of the bath, toweling off before you dress in a fresh set of Jedi robes. You’re starting to get hungry.

You’re sitting in the refrectory, eating your lunch, when a familiar set of footsteps interrupts your reverie. You look up to see Master Dooku sitting down across from you with his own lunch.

“I thought you might appreciate a more relaxed session today,” Dooku comments as he cuts into his food.

“Thank you,” you say, wondering what prompted this decision.

“Unless he has dramatically altered his teaching methods, Master Windu can be a demanding instructor,” Dooku adds as though he’s reading your thoughts.

He isn’t, is he? One white stone. You laugh awkwardly, shrugging. “Today certainly has been challenging.”

Dooku nods, swallowing his food and wiping his mouth neatly before he speaks. “How can I support you in your challenges?”

You frown, chewing your food thoroughly as a stalling technique while you think of how to answer him. He can not help you with your nightmares or your feelings for Anakin. The only thing he could help you with, you aren’t certain he would help you with. Though, with the day you’ve had so far, you’re tempted to ask. Kriff it, why not? “You can give me advice for dealing with the Chancellor.”

Dooku looks distinctly uncomfortable. “I am not overly fond of the man. I am not certain my advice would benefit you in this arena.”

“That is why I asked you,” you reply. “To know a man best, one should ask both his friends and his enemies about his character.” One white stone.

Dooku gives you a penetrating look, as though trying to pierce your thoughts. “Chancellor Palpatine excels at telling people what they want to hear. He loves using pretty words with no real meaning and charming people to his side. Do not fall for his empty promises or platitudes.”

As advice goes, Dooku’s is generic enough to apply to any and all politicians, not just Palpatine. “So, you would advise me not to trust him.”

Dooku narrows his eyes as he carefully slices another bite of food with his knife. “I would advise you not to trust anyone until they have earned it, my lady.”

“Including yourself?” you ask him.

Master Dooku laughs wryly. “Including myself. Though, truthfully, I must admit to hoping I can eventually earn your trust.”

“Why is that, Master Dooku?” You follow your question with a bite of food, feigning a casual attitude.

“You remind me a great deal of my late apprentice,” Dooku admits. “I see a lot of him in you. I suspect that is why you are so good with Skywalker.”

“You must miss him,” you reply.

“I do.” Dooku smiles sadly. “As Jedi, our primary relationships are with our Masters and our Padawans.”

To your relief, you do not blush in response to Dooku’s statement. Instead, you return his smile. “Indeed. I can only imagine how much you must grieve his loss.”

Dooku nods, studying you. “As I imagine you must grieve your Masters.”

More like my whole life, but sure, them, too. One white stone. “I grieve many things, Master Dooku; the smell of the soil after the rain, the magic of fireflies dancing in the twilight air, the beauty of all the diverse life forms on my planet, the trees. My Masters taught me to breathe with the trees, to exhale so they might inhale and to inhale what they have exhaled.”

Dooku smiles sadly at you. “You honor me by sharing the memories of your homeworld, my lady.”

“Thank you, Master Dooku,” you reply. “Sharing them with you eases the grief.”

“Indeed,” Master Dooku agrees. “I am always here to listen to them.”

“I am also here, if you ever wish to talk about your Padawan,” you say. “I would be honored to hear your memories of him.”

Dooku smiles sadly. “Qui-Gon was always wiser than his years. He often saw solutions even when I felt our options were limited. I valued his counsel. I often find myself wishing he was here to advise me.”

“He sounds like a wise Jedi,” you agree. “I wish I could have met him.”

“I am certain he would have enjoyed meeting you, my lady.” Dooku smiles. “In many ways you are quite alike.”

“If I can ever listen to your worries the way he would have, I would be honored.” Having finished your lunch, you stand up to leave.

“Thank you, my lady,” Dooku says. “Likewise, if you are ever in need of someone to listen, I am here.”

You return to your quarters just as Anakin is emerging from his bedroom, hair still wet from his fresher.

Upon seeing you, he stops immediately, a sheepish look on his face. “I’m sorry. I should have listened to you and you were right but I didn’t want to admit that because I wanted at least one thing to stay the same. I didn’t want to believe Palpatine isn’t my friend. I’m sorry I accused you of being jealous and stormed off after I told you I’d never abandon you. I’m sorry I used your insecurities against you. You took me to see my Mom and made peace with the Sand People and helped me free the slaves and got me through the podrace and helped me learn meditation and improved my relationship with Obi-Wan but I chose Palpatine over you and that was a laserbrained karkhole thing to do because if anyone has earned my loyalty, it’s you. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I’ve been a dwang friend. Again.”

After everything else in your day, Anakin’s heartfelt, word-vomit apology is the last thing you expected. 

“Wow.” You stare at him. “Thank you.”

Anakin looks uncertain. “Are you alright?”

“No, I went from our fight to a private tutoring — I mean torture session — with Master Windu,” you reply. “It’s been a hell of a day and it’s barely past lunch.”

Anakin frowns. “I’m sorry. I know that’s partly my fault. If it helps, my morning has been a total crash and burn.”

You pause, adding together “you were right” with “crash and burn” in your head. “What happened? Did Palpatine do something?”

“Oh, he decided to tell me about Padme’s pregnancy,” Anakin replies blithely.

“Padmé’s pregnancy?!” You stare at Anakin in shock, your brain not registering what he said. “What?”

“Right?!” Anakin laughs. “Thank you! That was my response.”

“Palpatine said it; are we sure it’s even true?” you ask. 

“Oh, it is,” Anakin assures you. “I overheard her and Obi-Wan fighting over the future of their babies.”

“Wait, it’s … they’re Obi-Wan’s?” Your brain feels like it’s been ground into jelly..

“Yeah.” Anakin nods. “Trust me, I … had some feelings about that.”

“I bet you did,” you admit with a chuckle. “How are you doing with all of this?”

Anakin laughs awkwardly, running his hands through his hair and blushing. “I’m, uh… taking my parents’ advice.”

“Okaaaaay,” you respond with a smile. “I’m here if you need to talk about it.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Anakin looks like he doesn’t know what to say. His cheeks are still red and he’s obviously uncomfortable. “Uh… I should probably tell the Council about the Chancellor’s creepy obsession with Padmé’s babies though. It seems like something they should know.”

“Yeah.” You nod, surprised by his emotional stability and maturity. “I agree.”

You escort Anakin to the Jedi Council Chambers, feeling generally impressed with Anakin’s maturity over the last month.

“Skywalker, Bari, we were not expecting to see you again so soon,” Master Windu says as you enter the Council Chambers.

“My Padawan has a concern he wishes to bring to your attention,” you say.

“Indeed.” Master Dooku gestures. “You may proceed.”

“I’m concerned about Chancellor Palpatine’s obsession with Senator Amidala’s children,” Anakin says.

“Why do you say obsession?” Master Windu asks.

“Just the way he asked me about it was creepy and weird,” Anakin answers.

“Weird, how?” Master Windu steeples his fingers in front of himself.

“It felt…off.” Anakin frowns. “It’s none of my business. If the Chancellor is so concerned, why not just talk to Senator Amidala about it? They’re friends. And if he needs to talk to someone else, why not Obi-Wan? He’s her bodyguard.”

“Your eyes, please close,” Master Yoda instructs him. “In your mind, the scene, you will revisit.”

Anakin closes his eyes.

“How does the Chancellor tell you?” Master Windu asks. “What is his body language, his tone of voice?”

Anakin’s eyes move behind his eyelids. “We’re alone, but he’s looking around like he’s checking to make sure no one else is listening. He leans towards me and lowers his voice. He’s acting secretive. He’s watching me, waiting for my reaction.”

Master Windu frowns, leaning forward in his chair. “How do you feel when he tells you?”

“Shocked,” Anakin replies without hesitation. “Confused.”

“How does Palpatine respond?” Master Windu asks. “He keeps watching me,” Anakin says. “But I feel overwhelmed and sick, so I get up and leave.”

“Come back to the present and open your eyes, you may,” Master Yoda instructs Anakin.

Anakin opens his eyes again.

“Why do you think the Chancellor told you?” Master Windu asks.

“I don’t know.” Anakin frowns. “He said it almost like we were co-conspirators in her pregnancy, like we were both supposed to protect the babies and no one was supposed to know or something. Maybe he thinks I’m the father?”

Master Windu narrows his eyes. “Assuming he thinks you’re the father, how do you think he expected you to react?”

Anakin pauses a moment to think. “Scared, panicked.”

“I see.” Master Windu is still frowning. “You were right to bring this to our attention. Thank you, young Skywalker. 

“Troubling, this is,” Master Yoda agrees. “A moment to speak with your Master, we would like. Excuse us, please, if you would.”

Anakin bows to the Council, shooting you a sympathetic look before he leaves.

As soon as the doors close behind him, Master Windu clears his throat. “In light of Padawan Skywalker’s decision to inform the Council of the Chancellor’s behavior, as well as his ability to let go of his attachment to Senator Amidala, we feel he has successfully passed his Knighthood trials. Of course, as his Master, this decision ultimately rests with you. Do you believe he is ready?”

You consider carefully, thinking about all the courage, compassion, maturity, growth, self-awareness and self-regulation Anakin has been displaying over the past few months. “Yes,” you agree. “I think he proved he was ready on Tatooine.”

“Agree with you, we do,” Master Yoda says. “But, needed to test his loyalty, we did.”

“Then, we are agreed.” Master Windu smiles. “Master Bari, please invite Skywalker to join us.”

You exit the room, finding Anakin waiting for you outside. “They want to speak with you again.”

“More detention?” he teases.

“I’ll let them explain,” you respond.

Anakin walks into the circular chamber, facing the Council. “You wanted to see me, Masters?”

“Padawan Skywalker,” Master Windu intones. “It is the decision of this Council and the decision of your Jedi Master to award you the rank of Knight. Please step forward.”

Anakin steps forward and kneels. You take your place in front of him. Behind you, the Masters rise from their chairs.

You pull out your lightsaber and ignite the blade, swinging it in a smooth arc over Anakin’s head and carefully cut off his Padawan braid. “By the right of the Council. By the will of the Force. Anakin Skywalker, I name thee Jedi, Knight of the Republic, protector of the people. Rise.”

Anakin stands, and you hand him his braid. “For light and life,” he responds, holding up his saber in his other hand and igniting it. 

Chapter Text

After Anakin’s knighting ceremony, all you really want to do is lie down and take a nap, but unfortunately, your day is far from over. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine summons you and Anakin to his office before you’ve had any time to process the events that have transpired since your bath.

One white stone.

“Anakin, Master Bari,” Palpatine greets you both with his fake smile. “I hope you are feeling better, Anakin. I was worried about you.”

“I am. Thank you, Chancellor.” Anakin bows politely.

“Why Anakin, is your Padawan braid missing?” Palpatine claps his hands together in delight.

“Yes, Chancellor.” Anakin stands up straighter and grins. “I’m a full Jedi Knight now.”

“Congratulations, my boy! Well done!” Palpatine clasps Anakin on the shoulder. “We must celebrate.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Chancellor, Jedi don’t normally make a big deal out of such things,” Anakin demurs.

“At least let me buy you a celebratory dinner, son. As long as it is acceptable to your Master, of course.” Palpatine smiles at you.

“As a Knight, Anakin is allowed to make his own decisions,” you reply. “He doesn’t need my permission.” One white stone.

“If you insist, Chancellor.” Anakin looks embarrassed.

“I insist.” Palpatine turns and smiles at you. “Of course, as his former Master, you should absolutely join us. You will join us, won’t you?”

“I would be honored to.” You bow politely. One white stone.

“Excellent!” Palpatine claps his hands together. “This will be so much fun!” He turns to Anakin, smiling conspiratorially. “Please say you will do the flying, I’m sure you will be more fun than my pilot.”

“Of course, Chancellor.” Anakin smiles politely.

You follow the two of them to a private landing pad where some sort of speedercraft waits. With Anakin piloting, and Palpatine sitting in the passenger seat, you are left in the back of the speeder. Given the alternatives —  having to sit with Palpatine, or having him behind you — you can’t complain.

Palpatine directs Anakin to the landing platform of a specific building where all three of you exit the vehicle and a valet hops in, no doubt taking the speeder off to a secure parking location. A Twi’lek hostess greets the three of you at the doors and immediately whisks you away via lift to an exclusive restaurant on the top floor of the building. You exit the lift into a short hallway, the hostess guiding your group out into a larger, circular space. She leaves you in a semi-private seating area, sectioned off from the adjacent spaces by backlit shelves displaying a variety of books and sculptures. Curved, floor-to-ceiling transparisteel windows form the outer wall of the restaurant, providing a fantastic view of Coruscant’s uppermost levels below you.

“Quite a lovely view, is it not?” Skeevy Sheevy smirks at you as if reading your thoughts.

Read this, creeper. One white stone. You smile politely at him, deliberately masking your unease. “Indeed.”

A flicker of disappointment flashes across his eyes before it is replaced by something else. “Of course, this view does not quite compare to the view from my apartment.”

Your apartment? Way to be disgusting, your skeeviness. One white stone. Pretending to miss his innuendo, you continue smiling politely, hoping it hides how uncomfortable you are. “You should see the view from the Jedi Temple sparring platforms or the Council chamber. I’ve been told it’s the best in the city.”

“It’s true,” Anakin agrees, coming to stand beside you at the window, placing himself between you and Palpatine. “While the view from your apartment is pretty great, the one from the Temple spires is spectacular, Chancellor.”

Inwardly, you sigh in relief, feeling vindicated by Anakin’s support and oddly comforted by his physical proximity, as though his presence makes Palpatine’s slightly less onerous. Outwardly, you maintain the same vaguely pleasant expression, the face worn by every waitstaff, bartender, hair stylist, customer service specialist, retail worker, and people-facing professional in this galaxy and your own; hell, probably anywhere sentient life exists.

A light gray Mygeetan server appears just in time to interrupt the awkwardness of the moment. “Chancellor, it is an honor to serve you, as always. What would you like to start with tonight? Your usual?”

Palpatine pivots, turning to smile at your waitstaff. “Yes, please. And a round of starters.”

“Right away, sir.” The Mygeetan leaves to put in your order.

Palpatine turns and sits on the central lounge as though it is a throne. You and Anakin both choose chairs on either side.

“This is my favorite restaurant,” Skeevy Sheevy says with a smile, looking at you. “I hope you enjoy it.”

Who cares if I enjoy it; we’re supposed to be here for Anakin, not me. One white stone. You ignore the Chancellor, choosing to focus on Anakin instead. “I also hope you enjoy it, Anakin. You deserve to celebrate.”

Anakin smiles at you in return. “Thank you, my lady.”

Your server returns with a familiar-looking tall blue bottle of wine and several glasses, carefully pouring for each of you before leaving the bottle in a bucket of ice. They disappear briefly before returning with a tray of appetizers, placing each onto a clear transparisteel table set in the center of your seating area. Once the appetizers have been distributed, your server vanishes yet again.

Skeevy Sheevy takes a plate and begins loading it with a variety of foodstuffs before he hands it to you with a sickening smile. 

Ewww, gross. One white stone. You accept the plate and select a few more items before passing the plate to Anakin, hiding your distress behind a facade of geniality. “For the Guest of Honor.”

Anakin pauses for a moment, looking at Palpatine and then you before shrugging and accepting the plate. “Thank you.”

A hint of anger flashes in Palpatine’s eyes before he turns to smile at Anakin. “Of course, my boy.”

You take advantage of the moment to retrieve a plate of your own and begin loading it with a sample of each of the appetizers you find appealing.

Sleevy Sheevy turns back to the table and reaches for his wine glass, holding it high with an unnerving smirk. “To a beautiful view and even more beautiful company.”

Will this guy ever stop? One white stone. You take a deep breath and exhale slowly before raising your glass, deliberately looking at Anakin instead of Palpatine. After all, this is supposed to be a celebration of his knighthood, not an opportunity for Skeevy Sheevy to be disgusting. “To my favorite Jedi Knight, for successfully achieving knighthood.”

Anakin also lifts his glass high. “To my favorite Jedi Master for being the guide who helped me get there.”

“Here, here,” Skeevy Sheevy says, clinking his glass into yours, deliberately brushing your knuckles with his as he does so. He smiles repulsively, suggestively raising his eyebrows at the same time.

Repulsed and freaked out, you pretend not to notice. Are you serious? Get away from me, nasty old man. One white stone. Before you can figure out how to respond, Anakin knocks his glass into both of yours, deftly pushing his between them with the slightest of smirks.

You repress a laugh, amused by and grateful for Anakin’s antics. 

Palpatine withdraws his glass, raising it to his lips as he studies Anakin.

You take the smallest of sips of yours, noticing Anakin does likewise, a small smirk still playing on his lips.

“Domaine de la Maison sur le Lac,” Skeevy Sheevy says, swirling the liquid around in his glass. “A favored wine among members of the Senate. A single bottle costs 3,000 credits.”

As if Jedi are impressed by status, you think. One white stone. “How generous of you to offer to share this with us,” you reply politely. “But Anakin and I are on duty right now. Consuming anything that could dull our senses would make us less effective bodyguards for you, Chancellor.”

Anakin smiles politely at Palpatine. “My Master is right, Chancellor. Thank you for sharing with us, but as your pilot, I need to stay sober.”

Good job, Anakin. Thanks for the backup. One white stone. 

Palpatine smiles his fake smile at Anakin, reaching across the low table to pat Anakin on his knee. “Thank you, my boy. I feel safer knowing I have such conscientious protectors.” 

Skeevy Sheevy reaches out to touch you as well, but you lean out of his way, reaching for a random appetizer on the far side of the table near Anakin.

Anakin notices, picking up one of the items and handing it to you instead. “Here, my lady.”

“Thank you, Anakin.” You accept the hors-dœuvre with a smile, popping it into your mouth. To your relief, the food is actually delicious.

“I find that eating with people is such a fascinating way to learn about their desires and tastes,” Skeevy Sheevy comments, watching you as you chew.

Really? You nod noncommittally, repressing a sigh over the double entendres in his word choice. “It is always interesting to see who likes savory, who likes spicy, and who likes sweet.”

“I prefer sweet,” Skeevy Sheevy says, breaking off a piece of puffy cracker and spreading it with some sort of jam. He pops the cracker in his mouth before slowly licking his finger suggestively and staring at you.

Ewwwwwww. One white stone. You focus on your food. 

“Sweet is pretty amazing,” Anakin agrees, smiling slyly. “But I like to eat a little heat.”

You’re glad your mouth is empty when Anakin replies, because not blushing at his word choice takes up most of your attention. Not choking would be even harder. That is a pretty accurate way to describe Padmé, but DAMN, Anakin. One white stone. 

Skeevy Sheevy chuckles at Anakin patronizingly as he drinks more wine. “Oh, I rather agree, my boy. The spicier the course of the meal, the sweeter the final dessert.” He turns his attention to you, smiling suggestively. “But what about you, Lady Jedi, do you enjoy the spicier side of things, or do you prefer a milder, sweeter … flavor?”

Did he just ask me… gross. One white stone. “I try to enjoy and appreciate all food, Chancellor,” you reply tactfully, trying to avoid his trap. “Any food is better than starvation.”

“I agree,” Anakin replies. “I’m thankful to have a seat at the table and a bounty of food to choose from.”

Thank you, Anakin. One white stone. 

“Indeed,” Palpatine comments. “We are privileged to enjoy the finest restaurant in Coruscant and the finest food money can buy. There are those who would gladly trade anything — including themselves — for access to such a life.”

Your server reappears, picking up the wine bottle. “Your table is ready. Right this way, please.”

Palpatine rises, following the waitstaff out of your seating area and around the wheel-shaped restaurant to the next wedge over, another semi-private space delineated and separated from its neighbors by back-lit, white shelves full of art and books. A circular dining table with three chairs occupies the center of the space. Palpatine, of course, chooses the center chair, the one that is both facing the wall of windows and requires both of you to sit beside him.

Anakin waits for you to be seated before he sits down.

“What can I get for you sir?” the server asks Palpatine as they pour out the remainder of the bottle into his glass.

“A roasted duraslug for me, some Hyellian musical noodles for the lady, an order of stuffed Rodian peppers for my young friend,” he replies.

“I hope you don’t mind me ordering for you,” Skeevy Sheevy says with a suggestive smile after the server withdraws. “I thought you might appreciate the benefit of my wisdom and experience.”

Will this ever end? Stooooooooooop. One white stone. You take a sip from your glass of water, searching for a polite reply. “I must admit, I am ignorant of the customs of Coruscant.”

A strange emotion flashes across Anakin’s face, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “I don’t know, I think there is something to be said for the boundless passion of youth when exploring new cultures.”

Skeevy Sheevy looks at you, a wicked smile on his lips. “What do you think, my dear? Do you prefer the wisdom of experience or the passion of youth?”

You take another drink of your water, stalling for time. What the hell do I say? If I pick wisdom, he’ll think I’m flirting back with him. If I pick youth, he’ll be insulted. If I pick both, he’ll take it as a cue for him to steal some younger body, probably Anakin’s, knowing him. This is totally a trap. One white stone.

Thankfully, your server chooses this moment to reappear, arms laden with food. They circle the table slowly, placing a dish in front of each of you.

“So Chancellor,” Anakin says, changing the subject. “How busy are you? What does your schedule look like? As your bodyguards, we need to know this.”

Palpatine smiles at Anakin. “Quite busy, I’m afraid. In addition to my normal office hours, there are Senate hearings and committee meetings as well as other official duties. I put in many a late night.”

“Oh,” Anakin says, sounding sympathetic, though a hint of meanness glints in his eyes. “That sounds exhausting for a man your age. You must not have any time or stamina left over for a personal life. What do you do for fun?”

You bite back your surprise at Anakin’s snark. Damn, Anakin. That was vicious! What the hell was that? One white stone. 

Palpatine looks momentarily taken aback before returning Anakin’s salvo. “Sadly, my boy, with great power comes great responsibility. Surely, as a Jedi, you understand this. After all, Jedi do not have any free time or social lives themselves, do they?”

What the hell is going on? you wonder. This morning Anakin was ready to fight me over Palpatine and this evening he’s tearing into Palpy with his words? What changed? One white stone. “I do find, as a Jedi, my time is quite constrained,” you comment.

“I quite understand.” Skeevy Sheevy smiles before he places a bite of food onto his fork and offers it to you. “You really must try this, my dear.”

Seriously? One white stone. “Thank you, Chancellor.” You take the fork from his grip, depositing half of the bite on your plate before offering the rest across to Anakin. “Anakin, would you like to try some?”

Anakin leans forward, eating the entire bite off of Palpatine’s fork. “Mmmmm, that is good.” 

You bite back a laugh at the look of absolutely devilish glee in Anakin’s eyes.

For a moment, Palpatine looks like he’s swallowed a block of magma and it’s stuck in his throat. Then the moment passes. You offer the fork back to him but he waves you off, picking up a different fork and using it instead.

“So, how did you come to be on Coruscant, my dear?” Palpatine asks, looking at you as he drinks more wine.

You take a bite of food, using the opportunity to think of a response. What the hell do I say? you wonder. One white stone. “A transport accident stranded me on Ansion. Anakin and Knight Kenobi offered to bring me to Coruscant with them.”

“How did the two of you wind up on Tatooine together?” Palpatine asks, taking another bite of roasted slug.

“I wanted to podrace again.” Unexpectedly, Anakin lies.

You take a sip of your water to hide your surprise. One white stone.

“I can’t blame you for that, my boy,” Palpatine says. “Is that how you wound up back in Gardulla’s palace?”

“Yes,” Anakin agrees, even though this - also - is a lie.

Wow, Anakin. What’s gotten into you? One white stone. 

“That must have been awful,” Palpatine sympathizes. “How did you gain control of her palace?”

“The Sand People,” Anakin says. “They stormed the palace during the after-party.”

Holy kriff, Anakin. You suppress a smile, feeling impressed by and proud of him. One white stone. 

“How fortunate.” Palpatine smiles sympathetically and takes a sip of wine. “When did you two become Master and Padawan?”

“After Tatooine,” Anakin replies nonchalantly, a smug tone in his voice. “Even the Council recognizes that we make an astral team.”

Your server chooses this moment to reappear. “Would you care for some dessert?”

“Certainly,” Palpatine agrees. “We would like three orders of your barafuraha.”

The server nods and leaves again.

“I am curious, Master Jedi.” Palpatine studies you. “How much galactic history did you learn on Earth? Did they teach you about the Great Schisms and the Hundred-Year Darkness?”

You pick up your napkin, wiping your mouth as you consider your answer. What do I say? Whatever will make him feel safe enough to lower his guard and give us the evidence we need to prosecute and convict him. One white stone. “Yes. And the Battle of Corbos.”

Your server reappears with your desserts, bowls of frozen balls resembling ice cream or gelato. 

Palpatine’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly in surprise. After the server leaves again he says, “Indeed. How fascinating. Do you also know where the refugees of the Schism fled?”

“Korriban,” you answer, spooning up a bit of frozen dessert. “A planet long-since ravaged by countless wars.”

Palpatine smiles, giving you an appraising look. “Korriban was not meant to know peace.”

“The rulers of Korriban would have told you peace was a lie,” you comment back before taking a bite of icy sweet treat. 

“They believed there was only passion,” Palpatine agrees with a satisfied smirk.

Anakin glowers, looking back and forth between the two of you.

“You seem to be quite educated on the finer details of galactic history, Lady Jedi.” Palpatine continues to smile, looking more than pleased with himself.

One white stone. “Yes, well, those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it,” you comment dryly.

“Indeed.” Palpatine’s smile grows increasingly more sinister as he pushes away his dessert dish and rises from the table. “It has been a most enlightening evening.”

You can see Anakin’s anger in the set of his shoulders and how quickly he stands up. He stalks silently to the valet stand, not speaking the entire way to Palpatine’s apartment, in the droid-driven speeder cab Palpatine orders for you, or halfway through the Jedi Temple. 

At this point, he hasn’t spoken in so long you’re starting to worry about him. “Are you alright, Anakin?”

Anakin turns to look at you and you can tell he’s livid, filled with a Darth Vader level of anger you’re accustomed to seeing accompanied by him Force choking someone. But, his eyes are still blue. “No. I’m mad … not at you; you haven’t done anything wrong.”

You’re impressed by his restraint. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Anakin shakes his head, oddly calm. “Not right now. Too mad to talk. I need to go do something physical.”

He turns and heads towards the shielded practice rooms, still seething. You’re debating whether or not you should follow him when you see Master Windu. Windu looks in Anakin’s direction and then nods, the look on his face making it clear he has Anakin’s emotional distress covered. 

Chapter Text

You return to your quarters alone, worried and confused over Anakin’s anger, and completely exhausted. As soon as you enter the sitting room, the softness of the stuffed couch beckons, singing siren songs of rest. Too worn out to resist, you plop down onto the cushions, mind churning.

What is Anakin so mad about? you wonder. He was Darth Vader levels of angry, you think, remembering how he stalked through the Temple like it was a Star Destroyer. But he also didn’t choke anyone or draw on the dark side either. Maybe I really have made a difference in his life after all. But what inspired his rage? You adjust your position on the sofa to a more comfortable one as you replay dinner in your mind.

I walk to the window and Skeevy Sheevy makes a disgusting innuendo about the view from his apartment. I ignore him and Anakin moves to shield me. He also backs me up verbally. Skeevy Sheevy brushes my knuckles during the toast and Anakin pushes his wineglass between ours. Skeevy Sheevy reaches out to touch my leg and I move away. He says something gross about liking sweets and licks his finger. Anakin fires back about liking spicy with his sweet. Skeevy Sheevy asks me if I like my men old or young right before our server returns. Anakin looks mad; he insults the Chancellor politely by implying he's old and exhausted. Palpatine fires back about Jedi not having any fun either. Then he starts questioning us. Anakin lies to the Chancellor. Anakin says he’s the one who wanted to go to Tatooine, omitting any mention of my ‘Force vision’ or his mother. He also says the Sand People freed us, leaving out our involvement with the White Suns or the battle for Gardulla’s palace. But why? It’s like he deliberately minimizes my involvement, almost as if he’s trying to protect me from Palpatine. You frown, wondering if Anakin’s anger was driven by his desire to safeguard you. 

Anakin was still in Palpatine’s thrawl this morning; how did he go from defending their friendship to insulting and lying to the man? What changed? He did seem pretty upset with how Palpatine revealed Padmé’s pregnancy. Maybe he finally realized Palpatine isn’t his friend? But he was so genial and friendly with Palpy at the beginning of the evening. Maybe Anakin could tell how uncomfortable I was? Still, neither of those explains his Darth Vader levels of anger. What could possibly have pissed him off that much? 

Try as you might, you can’t unravel the knot of Anakin’s anger. Oh well. I guess what really matters is that he’s mad at Palpatine. That has to be a good sign. As long as he’s mad at the Chancellor, he won’t be trusting him. And at least I know he isn’t mad at me. He made sure to tell me so; even in his anger he’s being considerate of my feelings. All evidence of his growth and maturity. 

Your mind continues to ramble, trying to unwind the puzzle of what happened. Eventually, exhaustion takes over and you fall asleep right where you’re sitting.

The next morning, you wake on the couch to find yourself lying down, head resting on the pillow from your bed, the corresponding blanket stretched out across you.

“Good morning,” Anakin says, emerging from his room. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Feeling confused, you sit up with a frown. “What?”

Anakin gestures at the couch. “It looked like you fell asleep sitting up waiting for me. So I got your pillow and blanket and laid you down.”

“Oh.” You stretch your arms above your head, surprised by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you. You seem to be feeling better.”

“Yeah,” Anakin agrees. “Master Windu helped a lot.”

“What did you learn about yourself yesterday?” Master Windu asks the moment you and Anakin have joined him in the shielded practice room.

I learned I don’t care if Anakin becomes Darth Vader, I’m going to love him anyway. One white stone. “I learned my capacity for caring exists separately from any external conditions.”

Master Windu nods. “That is the difference between compassion and attachment. Skywalker?”

“I learned I can control my anger,” Anakin says.

“Indeed. Well done, Skywalker.” Master Windu actually smiles at Anakin. “What did you learn from your time with the Chancellor?”

“I learned he isn’t my friend,” Anakin volunteers. “And he deliberately does things to press my buttons.”

Master Windu nods. “Excellent observations, young Skywalker. And you, Bari?”

You wrack your brain, trying to think of any new information. “I learned Skeevy Sheevy is even skeezier than I thought.”

Master Windu bursts out laughing, a deep-belly rumbling laughter accompanied by tears. Anakin stares at you, his mouth slightly open, a shocked, quiet laugh escaping his lips.

When Windu can finally breathe again he shakes his head, still chuckling quietly. “When wielded wisely, humor can be a formidable weapon in our fight against the dark side. Have you located any evidence?”

“He quoted from the Sith Code,” you reply.

Master Windu nods, frowning. “He is testing you. How did you answer him?”

“I quoted the Code first,” you admit. “He asked me about the Schisms so I mentioned the battle of Corbos. Then he asked me where the refugees went and I named Korriban.”

Master Windu continues nodding. “Excellent. Continue to placate and coddle him until he lowers his guard. And find me some evidence I can take before the Senate. We need more than the Sith Code and a knowledge of galactic history to make an arrest. You may assume your positions.”

You take your place on the floor, turning to face Anakin as you move into Vaapad’s starting stance. Across from you, Anakin does likewise.

“You may begin,” Master Windu informs you.

Anakin leaps into action, twirling his saber and advancing towards you so swiftly he becomes a blur. Startled by his sudden burst of speed, his first strike takes you by surprise. Only when you feel the tingling bite of numbness in your wrist do you snap into the moment, spinning away from his barrage of blows to circle around behind him, attempting an attack of your own. Anakin deftly dodges, dancing away from your onslaught effortlessly as he spins around, pressing his attacks. You block and dodge as best as you can, but Anakin’s newfound proficiency gives him a clear advantage and you soon find yourself failing to keep up with him.

“Get out of your head and into your heart, Bari!” Windu shouts from the sidelines.

Seeing you struggle to defend against his attacks, Anakin grins, a cocky smirk overtaking his features as he dances back beyond your reach, obviously toying with you. 

Spurred on by Anakin’s arrogance and Windu’s words, you reach for your feelings, finding plenty of them to use. Disgust over Skeevy Sheevy’s advances. Confusion over Dooku’s allegiances. Surprise over Padmé’s pregnancy. Attraction to Anakin, not despite — but because of — the self-confident smirk on his lips. Annoyance at yourself for still finding him desirable even when he’s being an irritating little shit and kicking your ass in lightsaber sparring. Amusement over discovering how captivating you find his confidence.

Driven by your emotions, you accelerate your attacks, expecting to be able to match Anakin as you always have before. Undaunted, Anakin only grins and increases his own speed. Obviously, he’s been taking things easy on you. Fueled by irritation, you bombard him with even more blows, but Anakin just shrugs and moves even faster. 

Your sparring session proceeds accordingly in a seemingly endless feedback loop. You call on your emotions to power your attacks. Anakin smirks and speeds up. The more cocky his grin grows, the more your desire for him does as well, as the two of you feed off of each other’s emotions. No matter how much you draw upon your dark side, you can’t match Anakin as easily as you have in the past. 

Eventually, Master Windu takes mercy on you and ends the sparring session. “Enough. Go hit the freshers.”

“Good morning, Anakin,” Palpatine greets you at the door to his apartment building. “Lady Jedi.”

“Good morning, Chancellor,” Anakin replies with a bow.

“Good morning, Chancellor,” you echo. One white stone. 

“I trust you had a good night’s sleep, son,” Palpatine says, placing a hand on Anakin’s shoulder.

Do you always have to touch people? you wonder. It’s so creepy. One white stone. 

“I did,” Anakin replies with a smile as he opens the speeder door for Palpatine. “Thank you, Chancellor.”

“Good, good.” Palpatine climbs into the front passenger’s seat. “You’ll need it. Today is bound to be a rather long day, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?” Anakin climbs into the driver’s seat.

You take a seat in the rear. Yeah, tell us more, Palpy. One white stone. 

“Today the Supreme Court will hear the case against Senator Lenoan,” Palpatine explains. “I imagine it will be a rather long and boring affair for you. I hate to waste your day with such dull proceedings, but I’m afraid my presence is required. And with the recent Senate bombing, we can’t be too careful. Who knows what the Separatists will do next?”

The Separatists, you say? You mean, you? You know, since you’re their boss. Who did you hire to do this? Aurra Sing? One white stone. 

“Are you certain the bombing was carried out by the Separatists?” Anakin asks.

Thank you, Anakin. Maybe he just wants us to think it was the Separatists. One white stone. 

“Who else, my boy?” Palpatine shakes his head. “As former Senators themselves, they have intimate knowledge of the Senate Complex as well as routines.”

So do you. But then, seeing as you seem so keen on pointing your finger at the Separatists, maybe this really was you all along. Maybe you’re still trying to start a war. Maybe you did it to scare us away from the clone meetings. Or maybe you did it simply so you would have an excuse to ask for us to be assigned as your bodyguards. One white stone. 

“But why would they bomb a hallway instead of an office?” Anakin questions.

“To cause a panic, I’m sure. By bombing the corridor, every Senator on that floor has to worry they are the target,” Palpatine explains.

You mean you wanted to cause a panic, you think. Who benefits from fear if not the Sith Lord trying to start a war? One white stone. 

Anakin pulls the speeder into Palpatine’s assigned parking space. “If fear is what they want, then we should do our best to remain calm.”

Such a Jedi response. Good job, Anakin. One white stone. 

Palpatine chuckles, placing a hand on Anakin’s knee. “Oh, if only it were so simple, my boy. Unfortunately, there is no good way to calm everyone down. Between the bombing and the arrests, most of the Senators are too terrified to even show up for the hearings.”

“Then you should find a way to help them feel safe, Chancellor.” Anakin exits the speeder. “As the leader of the Republic, the galaxy looks to you for guidance and reassurance. You’re the father figure they need.”

Palpatine stands up, smiling at Anakin fondly. “You flatter me with your faith, my boy.”

You exit the vehicle, wondering what is going on. What the hell, Anakin? Last night you were lying to and low-key insulting the man. This morning you’re flattering him? Either you’re wishy-washy as fuck or something else is going on here. But what? One white stone. 

You continue surreptitiously studying Anakin’s body language and behavior for clues as you walk through the Galactic Courts of Justice Building, but, as far as you can tell, everything is back to normal between them. Palpatine and Anakin carry on a harmless banter like old friends. “I learned he isn’t my friend,” Anakin said only a couple of hours ago. Yet here he is, pretending everything is fine. You follow along behind them as they proceed, wondering whether Anakin has lost his mind or suddenly developed a talent for acting.

You and Anakin join Palpatine in what can best be described as a theater box; an elevated observation area looking down upon the courtroom. A rectangular balcony projects outward into the cavernous space, dominated by a stately chair — or more accurately — a throne. A pair of long, rectangular observation rooms flanks this box seat; one on either side. 

Palpatine steps towards the front of his balcony, leaving you and Anakin to take up guard positions behind his “chair.”

Below you, Mas Amedda bangs his metal staff on the floor three times. On the level below this one, a circular platform detaches from the far wall and glides across the room, coming to rest between two other circular platforms branching out from either side wall. A human woman with black hair stands in the middle of the central platform, her hands cuffed before her. A pair of cam droids hover nearby, their feed projecting onto large view screens hung around the courtroom. Doors open on either side of the courtroom as the counsel walk to their platforms. An androgynous Himoran you do not recognize approaches the platform to your left. You would know the human man approaching the rightmost platform anywhere, however.

Tarkin. Of course he’s the special prosecutor on this case. One white stone. 

Palpatine raises his hands as he addresses the room. “Risi Lenoan, you have been charged with conspiracy, sentient trafficking, and violating the rights of sentients under the Convention of Civilized Systems. This Court will decide your fate. Prosecution, you may begin your arguments.”

“Former Senator Lenoan,” Tarkin begins. “I shall prove you are the mastermind behind an underground slavery ring on Coruscant, specifically the one operating out of club Kasakar on sublevel 2685. That you have willfully and knowingly conspired to subvert the laws of the Republic by violating the rights of sentients and participating in sentient trafficking. That you have betrayed your oath of office and the people of the Republic by accepting bribes and ensuring your accomplices could continue trafficking sentients without any legal hindrance or consequences. When you are found guilty, I ask the Court that the full extent of the law be brought down upon you, including penalty of death.”

Dang, Tarkin. The death penalty? You’re serious about this. One white stone. 

“Honorable Justices of the Court,” says the defense counsel, “I shall prove that Senator Lenoan is no criminal mastermind, merely a human prone to the same weaknesses as the rest of us. Perhaps my client is guilty of accepting gifts from the wrong people, but I shall prove to you that she is not the head of a planetary trafficking ring, just a woman who has a taste for the finer things in life.”

My client is innocent; she didn’t realize she was bargaining with bad people. Inwardly, you roll your eyes at the defense. Of course they would argue such ridiculousness. Even in Star Wars, people of privilege live lives above the law. Even when they’re caught committing truly heinous acts, we’re expected to have mercy and compassion for them, despite the fact they never would have given the same consideration to us . One white stone. 

Tarkin begins presenting his evidence, and while you’re interested in this case because it is a result of your actions, legal proceedings aren’t exactly your area of special interest. Every time Tarkin presents proof of Lenoan’s wrongdoing, her defense counsel always has an argument for why Lenoan cannot be at fault or held responsible for the results of her actions. If defense counsel’s argument is to be believed, Lenoan is merely a cog in a brutal and corrupt system, one in which Senators have little or no power over their own choices. Lenoan didn’t mean to run a planetary sentient trafficking ring; she’s the victim here. 

With how times you want to roll your eyes at the utter and complete bantha dwang spewing from defense counsel’s mouth, your eyes would be aching if you allowed yourself to actually emote instead of standing there stoically like a good Jedi. Intellectually, you know no matter how damming the evidence against the former Senator is, her fate will be decided on political expediency, not any true justice. Eventually, you zone out completely, slipping into a meditative state while you stand and silently observe the court case for hours. 

Hours turn into days and days into weeks as you adapt to a new rhythm; rising before dawn to eat breakfast, train with Master Windu and shower before picking up Palpatine from his apartment and escorting him to the Galactic Courts of Justice Building and the appointed courtroom where you stand behind his throne and meditate while the case drones on around you. You escort him back to his apartment in the evenings before eating dinner and having your check-in with Master Dooku. Then you go to sleep only to wake up and repeat the process all over again.

While the wheels of justice turn slowly, the Senate grinds to a complete halt as more than half of the Senators from the Core are indicted on various corruption charges, some more serious than others. 

Right about the time you decide this court case is going to last forever, Mas Amedda hands Palpatine a small data screen. 

Palpatine rises from his seat. “Risi Lenoan, by an overwhelming count of twelve to zero, this Court finds you guilty of all charges and hereby sentences you to life imprisonment.”

Anakin is silent during the trip to Palpatine’s apartment. So is Palpatine. As you leave the Chancellor in the safe hands of his personal security team and turn to depart his apartment building, you notice Anakin looking at you, an odd expression on his face.

“What?” you ask, staring back at him.

Anakin shakes his head, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips as he opens the speeder door and climbs in. “I really thought there was no way to solve this problem; any of these problems, really. And I was wrong. Qui-Gon told me he wasn’t there to free the slaves. Obi-Wan said freeing them would have been impossible; it wasn’t a Jedi’s job. Palpatine told me no one could do anything about the slavery on Coruscant or the corruption of the Senate. Then you show up and decide you want to fix these things — and you do. Tatooine is free from Hutt control and slavery and my mom is the Senator. Club Kasakar is closed down and hundreds of corrupt Senators are being arrested and charged. Is there anything you can’t do once you put your mind to it?”

Chapter Text

The moment you see the mist-filled landscape, your stomach drops, your heart sinking along with it. Not again, you think. Why the hell does this keep happening? Frustrated and alone, you wander through the insubstantial landscape, wondering what the miasma will show you this time. Despite your curiosity, nothing happens. The effluvium doesn’t shift. No paths appear. Instead, you make your way through a cold, featureless fog, slowly growing numb from the chill. You have no idea how long you’ve been walking for, but it begins to feel like forever. Nothing has changed. Eventually, you give up and refuse to continue forward. What’s the point? You have no idea where you started or where you’re headed, much less where you are or how far you’ve traveled. Instead, you stand still, refusing to move.

Unfortunately, your momentum kept you warm in the damp chill of the miasma. Without it, you grow colder even more quickly, beginning to shiver. Lost, isolated, and utterly alone, your heart spasms with grief and homesickness for your family. Right now you would give anything to be held and comforted by those you love. Please, you beg, uncertain who or what you are appealing to. As the emotion surges in your chest, the fog begins to clear, once more forming a portal or viewscreen of some sort. Mindful of Master Yoda’s warning, you do not touch the clear space. You do, however, watch through the energy window.. You’re curious what you’ll see this time.

The blurry view shifts and clears itself, coming into focus behind a familiar looking head. The view zooms out, panning backwards to reveal several more people and you recognize the backs of several of your family members' heads. They all sit side-by-side in some sort of assembly, and you have a bad feeling you’re about to learn why. 

Sure enough, as the depth of field expands, you see an entire room full of people you can identify from behind — all of them family and friends. A television sits at the head of the room, flanked on either side by flowers. A slideshow of photos plays on the screen, each depicting you from baby to adulthood. Birthdays, playdates with friends, senior photos, cosplay shots, and selfies scroll across the screen accompanied by bittersweet anecdotes about your life. As the image clears, so too does the sound. You hear the sound of crying under the melancholy tones of orchestral rock emanating from the television.

But I’m not dead, you think. I’m right here! Aren’t I?

An unbearable sorrow fills your awareness, flooding your mind with memories as you mourn for your old life and the loss of all those you love. You begin to weep along with your kith and kin, howling and keening for everything you have ever known. An ocean of tears pours from your eyes, falling endlessly into the unknown depths of your surroundings.

But I can’t be dead. Can I? 

You awaken to the sound of your own grief-stricken howls and Anakin calling out from the other side of your doorway.

“Indra, are you alright?!”

Swallowed by your sorrow and unable to speak, you continue crying. When you fail to answer him, Anakin bursts through your bedroom door, panic and concern written on his face. 

Seeing your swollen, tear-streaked cheeks, Anakin wastes no time in climbing into the bed behind you and wrapping you in his arms. “Another nightmare?”

Still struck speechless with grief, you manage to nod.

Anakin responds by pulling you closer, hugging you with his upper body. “Want to talk about it?”

“I went to my own funeral,” you sob. 

“I won’t let you die,” Anakin says quietly, an odd tone in his voice as though he is swearing some sort of sacred oath.

Intellectually, you know he means well; he’s trying to comfort you. But instead of feeling comforted, your mind immediately flashes to his canonical confession to Padmé. “I will even learn to stop people from dying.” In your currently chaotic emotional state, this thought only intensifies your suffering, adding guilt to the storm of feelings brewing inside you, causing you to cry even harder. Please, no. I can’t be the reason you fall, Anakin.

Anakin stays silent for a moment before speaking again. “What did you see?”

Something in his tone of voice gives you pause, startling you out of sobbing. “What?”

“What did you see,” he repeats. “About me.”

“I…” you pause, feeling disoriented and confused, wondering what the hell you’re supposed to say to him right now. How can you explain the secret you’ve been keeping from him? But what if I hurt you?

“Tell me, please,” Anakin begs. “I have a right to know.”

He has a point. It is his life, after all.

“I saw you become a Sith Lord,” you confess.

Anakin is silent for another long moment. “How did it happen?”

You frown, filled with anxiety. “Are you sure you really want to know?”

“I’m sure.” Anakin’s voice is calm and steady, full of quiet determination. 

You choose your words carefully. “You had nightmares about someone you loved dying. Palpatine convinced you he knew how to save her, and you believed him.”

Anakin exhales slowly as he practices self-regulation. “Is that why we went to Tatooine?”

“Yes.”

Anakin sighs quietly. “Has everything you’ve done for me been to try and prevent me from becoming a Sith Lord?”

“Yes,” you admit, feeling guilty. 

Anakin’s next words surprise you. “Surely you’ve changed my future then. My mother is alive.”

“But you fell because you wanted to stop people you cared about from dying,” you blurt out. 

“Now that you’ve warned me, I can be more careful. I won’t become a Sith Lord,” he reassures you. 

“But what if you do?” you ask. 

“I won’t,” he affirms, his voice rich with some unknown emotion. “I swear I will always come back to the light for you.”

Unable to sleep after your nightmare, you make your way unerringly to the same room as before. Master Yoda waits for you inside, sitting on a meditation cushion, his eyes closed. 

“Another dream, had you?” he asks by way of greeting as soon as you enter the room. 

“Yes.” You take a seat on the cushion across from him. 

“This time, see what, did you?” Master Yoda asks, his eyes still closed.

“My funeral,” you answer. “All of my family and friends were there.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs. “Fascinating, this is. A chance to meditate upon your own mortality, you were given. Mourn your family and friends, do you?”

You frown, uncertain how to answer his question. You miss them, but you don’t mourn them. They’re still alive. “I don’t know.”

Master Yoda frowns. “Mmmm. Guilty, about surviving when they did not, do you feel?”

“Not that I know of,” you reply.

“Feel what, during the dream, did you?” he asks.

“Scared. Sad. Disbelieving.” You stare at him, torn between your need for help and the desire not to undo his trust in you. But if anyone can help you answer the question gnawing at your mind, he can. “What if I did die though? What if the Force brought me here when I died?”

Master Yoda looks at you thoughtfully. “Your presence here, the will of the Force is. If, die on Earth you did, then your life, a miracle is. Brought you here for a reason, the Force did. Know why that is, only you can. Your fate, this is.”

You sigh, wishing Master Yoda’s advice were more comforting. “You said before not to trust these dreams.”

“Indeed,” Master Yoda agrees. “Other than it appears, the truth may be. Around you again, sensed darkness, did I.”

“Do you think these are nightmares sent by a Sith Lord to scare me?” you ask.

“They could be,” Master Yoda agrees. “If sent by Sidious, they were, what goal would they serve?”

“To keep me from sleeping well,” you comment bitterly. “To remind me of my own mortality and have me seeking ways to prolong my life.”

“And?” Master Yoda asks. “Think of other purposes, can you?” 

Master Windu’s words about reproductive instincts flash through your mind. You force yourself not to blush. “To tempt me into acts of passion.”

Master Yoda nods. “Powerful tools of the Sith, fear and passion are. Of their peace, robbing people also. But different, this energy feels. Scanning the temple for something, feel it I can. Focused entirely on you, it is not. More going on than we know, there may be.”

Yet again, Master Yoda’s words fail to comfort you. “Meditate more on this, I shall. As you also should do.”

“Yes, Master Yoda.” You close your eyes and dive within, speeding through the layers of security surrounding your mind palace and head for your thinking chair. 

Flopping down on its comfortable surface, you bring up everything you can remember about the mists. The first time you can recall seeing them is during your stay on Tatooine. The first night in Gardulla’s palace, you dream of wandering through the fog, searching for something, anything. The second time, you find yourself lost in the fog you wander until you cry out in mental anguish, seeking a way home. When the mists clear, you see Darth Vader and a squad of Stormtroopers searching for you. The third time, you ask where you are. When the effluvium clears you see your friends packing up your things. This fourth time, you were thinking about wanting to see your family and saw your own memorial service.

You can’t see any pattern to speak of, unless someone is trying to upset you with your fears and insecurities. But who? Yoda described a darkness scanning the Temple, but you never feel any darkness or malevolence in your nightmares. On the contrary, the featureless landscape seems devoid of any emotion or energy other than the slowly swirling mists themselves. The only emotion seems to be what you’ve taken in with you. In fact, the longer you wander through the featureless fog, the more the nothingness seems to provoke your own emotional state to make itself known. Perhaps the effluvium is merely mirroring your own unconscious fears back at you. The longer you consider this possibility, the more it makes sense. You wish to go home, provoking a vision of a worst-case scenario outcome. You wonder where you are, the fog shows you what will happen if you stay missing from your old life forever. You miss your friends and family and your guilt over making them worry inspires a nightmare about them grieving your loss. 

Satisfied, you return to the surface of your mind, convinced your nightmares are simply manifestations of your unconscious fears. Surely now you’ve acknowledged them, the nightmares will go away. 

“What did you learn about yourself?” Master Windu asks at the beginning of your morning training session. “I’m afraid of dying and of failing Anakin,” you admit.

Master Windu nods. “Fear of dying is only natural, young lady. Survival instincts are why your ancestors survived and others did not. However, as Jedi, we train to face our fears so Sith Lords cannot use them against us. As for failing your Padawan, every Master fears this. Might I also remind you that under your influence and mentorship, Skywalker has matured immensely.” 

Master Windu looks at Anakin. “And you, Skywalker?”

“I learned the Force loves me,” Anakin replies.

Wow, Anakin.

Master Windu stares at him in surprise for several silent seconds. “Just when I think you couldn’t surprise me, you turn around and surprise me more. Well done, Knight.”

Master Windu nods at both of you. “You may begin.”

If you thought Anakin’s increasing ability to beat you in lightsaber sparring had been challenging already; today you feel like a tortoise in a race against a cheetah. The worst part is how insufferably confident and charming Anakin is even while he’s beating you. He stops just short of making things impossible for you, but you also recognize his skill level far exceeds yours at the moment.

After Anakin has successfully zapped you several times, Master Windu takes pity on you. “Enough. Well done, Skywalker. Go hit the freshers, both of you.”

After showering and changing into fresh robes, you and Anakin pick up Palpatine from his apartment and escort him to the Senate building where a long day of Senate meetings awaits. While Sly Moore and Mas Amedda join Palpatine on his Senate platform, you and Anakin are left to sit among the various staffers in the support ring below. Above you, the rotunda buzzes with activity as the Senate proposes and passes various measures including a substantial budget increase for the Justice Department so they can hire more Rangers to patrol the galaxy. Accordingly, they also pass a measure to provide full galactic citizenship to any individual willing to sign a four year contract with the Justice Department.

The anti-war faction of the Senate proposes negotiations with the Confederacy of Independent Systems, but many systems — or their Senators, at least — still oppose the idea. Interestingly, Senator Aang and the other members of the Military Oversight Committee support the negotiations, arguing the Republic doesn’t have the ships or troops to fight an outright war with the CIS. No one says anything about the Clone Troops or proposes any legislation directly about them, though you do wonder about the Ranger legislation and the Justice Department’s Recruitment bill. 

After all the arguing dies down, Palpatine introduces several new Senators. Unfortunately, this means your day will be even longer than usual, as will the next several days, due to all the introductory banquets. 

The first of many banquets honors Kuat’s replacement for Lenoan; Senator Giddean Danu. As Palpatine’s bodyguards, you and Anakin are stuck with Mas Amedda and Sly Moore and the other staffers around the main dais while the event proceeds. You look around for Naboo and Tatooine, finally locating them far away in a distant section of the room, recognizing Padmé by her ornate headpiece. Behind her stands Aayla Secura.

Aayla Secura? Where’s Kenobi? Frowning, you turn to look at Anakin to see if he also noticed.

Feeling your gaze, Anakin shoots you a questioning look. 

You nod your head towards the Naboo table. ‘See anything wrong?’

‘Where’s Obi-Wan?’ Anakin frowns, his mental voice sounding confused.

‘Exactly,’ you reply.

‘I’ll have to com him after the banquet and find out,’ he muses.

‘Sounds like a plan,’ you agree.

The rest of the evening drags on without interruption or incident, though you notice Anakin sighing with boredom several times. 

When he finally catches you looking at him, he shrugs. ‘You were right,’ he admits unexpectedly. ‘Being the help isn’t very much fun.’

After dropping off Palpatine at his apartment, you and Anakin head directly for the closest dining hall, Anakin comming Kenobi while he walks. “Hey, meet me in the Knights refractory?”

You follow Anakin into the room and the serving line, selecting a random assortment of appealing looking foods. This practice has become part of your evening ritual, trying new food items. Anakin leads you to a corner booth where he waits for you to be seated before he sits beside you, leaving room for Kenobi on the other bench.

Before long, Obi-Wan appears, grabbing a hot drink and a couple of pastries before sitting down across from Anakin. “You look hungry,” Kenobi comments, eyeing Anakin’s overloaded plate.

“I haven’t eaten since sunrise,” Anakin replies, pausing between bites. “Stupid Senate banquet.”

“Ahh.” Kenobi takes a bite of his pastry.

Anakin chews and swallows his food, giving the other man a pointed look. “You weren’t there.”

Kenobi sighs, unspoken emotion flickering in his eyes. “That would be because the Council reassigned me at Padmé's request.”

“At Padmé’s request?” you ask, utterly confused. “What did you do ?!”

Kenobi glares at the wall behind you. “According to the Senator, I betrayed her trust.”

You stare at him, open-mouthed, your eating utensil still held in your hand, food momentarily forgotten. “How?”

Beside you Anakin shakes his head. “He told the Council he was the father of her children and registered their conception.”

“Wait, what?” You look back and forth between the two men. 

“I told the Council I impregnated Padmé, as per regulations,” Kenobi repeats, an odd tone in his voice.

“Did you talk to her about it first?” you ask.

“Why would I?” Kenobi frowns

You sigh and shake your head. “Because she’s their mother, Obi-Wan. And more than that, she thought you were her partner; but you made the decision without her. You robbed her of the choice.”

“But registering every conception is…” Kenobi begins.

“Fascist and sexist,” you interrupt. “I can see an argument for registering the children’s birth, but registering their conception is presumptive and invasive. Should the unfortunate occur, and Padmé loses her pregnancy, she shouldn’t have to inform the Council. Miscarriages are traumatic enough; the last thing she would want in such a scenario would be to have to explain herself to twelve strangers she barely knows.”

Kenobi and Anakin both stare at you, equally shocked expressions on their faces.

“You basically treated her as if she were a child, as if she were your inferior, as if her thoughts or feelings didn’t matter.” You stare at Kenobi, shaking your head. “I don’t blame her for feeling like she can’t trust you.”

Kenobi drops his gaze to the table. “Oh.”

“You need to apologize,” Anakin advises. “For everything she said you did wrong and anything else you can think of. And everything Indra just said.”

Kenobi nods his head slowly. “If she will even talk to me.”

“You have to at least try,” Anakin argues. “And keep trying. If you love her, you have to prove it through your actions.”

Kenobi jerks his eyes back up to stare at Anakin. “I…”

“You do love her, don’t you?” Anakin frowns at his friend.

“I don’t know,” Kenobi admits, his voice quiet.

“Then meditate on your feelings until you figure it out.” Anakin gives Kenobi a look. “And if you love her, apologize and change your behavior.”

Kenobi nods. “Thank you, Anakin.”

Anakin shrugs. “That’s what brothers are for.”

Chapter Text

The first time you run into a former whirlee behind the main dais at another introductory banquet, you decide it’s a coincidence. The third time you run into another whirlee-turned-Senator’s assistant, you realize Padmé kept her word and found employment for your friends. 

You’re waiting behind the dais when a familiar looking yellow Twi’lek approaches with a guard.

“Lady Guard.” Sarine greets you with a warm smile. “It is good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Sarine.” You smile back at her. “I see Senator Amidala has been quite busy finding jobs for everyone.”

“Yes, she has,” Sarine agrees. “Luckily for us, there are many new Senators in need of well-trained aides.”

“That explains why I’ve seen Elidra and Ryn,” you reply.

Running into the three of them is the only highlight of your week, however. The grind of twelve hour days with only two meals to support you is exhausting. You’re secretly relieved when another trial is announced and Palpatine declares a two-day recess to prepare. Fortunately, this means more sleep and more food for you. Unfortunately, you still have to show up and spend more time in close proximity to Palpatine. 

Meanwhile, Skeevy Sheevy is back to being his sleazy self. Around mid-morning, he orders stimcaf and snacks from the Senate cafeteria and sends you to retrieve the order from his receptionist. When you return, Skeevy Sheevy is deep in conversation with Anakin about something, his eyes on you while you walk, wearing a satisfied smirk. Anakin looks away immediately, his face turning several shades of red. You pretend not to notice as you set the tray down on the Chancellor’s desk. 

“I have an important meeting this afternoon, and I would like it if you would accompany me, Master Jedi.” Skeevy Sheevy smiles at you, making your skin crawl. “I’m afraid I am only allowed to take one guard with me.”

Inwardly, you panic, your mind racing. How do I get out of this? One white stone. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with me, instead, Chancellor,” Anakin interjects, coming to your rescue. “In light of recent events, the Council has forbidden members of the opposite sex from being alone together.”

Did they really say that or did you just make that up on the spot, Anakin? Either way, you feel a surge of gratitude towards him. One white stone. 

Palpatine’s eyes widen in surprise. “Oh dear, I certainly would not want to offend the Council. By all means, son. I would be happy to have you accompany me.”

After about an hour has passed, Palpatine and Anakin head out to the Chancellor’s important lunch meeting, leaving you alone in the suite of rooms — or alone except for the receptionist and the Senate Commandos. 

Now's my chance to grab the evidence Master Windu wanted. After several minutes have passed and you can be sure they aren’t returning to retrieve a forgotten item, you pull out your phone and open your camera app. In case anyone is watching you on the security feed, you proceed to pose and hold your device at various angles as though you’re taking selfies. 

Your cover established, you turn so you’re facing the bronzium statues, continuing to smile at the camera while actually photographing the statues. You make your way into the anteroom connecting to his private office where you similarly photograph a chalice and the bas relief hanging on the wall. Other than the urns in Palpatine’s private office, and whatever he keeps in his bedroom and personal archive, you’ve documented every Sith artifact you know about from the canonical lore.

Satisfied you’ve done what you can, you wander over to one of the huge windows and look out over Coruscant. Within moments, the door to the entry hallway opens, heralding Anakin’s and Palpatine’s return. 

You casually turn around to face them, acting as though you’ve been calmly meditating this whole time. “Welcome back. I trust your meeting went well.”

“Indeed, it did.” Skeevy Sheevy smiles at you, immediately making you regret speaking to him. Something in his smile unnerves you. One white stone.

“Why don’t you sit down and relax, Chancellor?” Anakin inserts himself beside Palpatine with a smile one could almost mistake as helpful. The glint in his eyes is anything but. “You’re supposed to be taking these two days to rest, after all.”

Dang, Anakin. Did you just tell him to take a nap? One white stone. 

A spark of irritation flashes across Palpatine’s face before a smile replaces it. “You are so thoughtful, my boy.”

He really is, you think. 

“The Jedi are supposed to be observant and compassionate, Chancellor.” Anakin’s face is the picture of innocence.

You know better, however. 

“Yes, I suppose they are.” Palpatine gives Anakin an odd look out of the corner of his eye. “Still, not many of them are as conscientious as you, Anakin.”

“I have a better Master than most,” Anakin says, smiling at you from under his eyebrows. 

You blush, recognizing his expression all too well.

Anakin grins in response, obviously feeling pleased with himself.

“Yes. I imagine you do.” Palpatine looks back and forth between you, an odd smirk on his lips. “If only there were more Jedi like the two of you. In the days of the High Republic the Order was full of powerful, heroic Jedi such as yourselves. But that was when the Order still bred its own. It’s such a shame they no longer believe in growing their numbers the traditional way.”

Ewwwwww. Did he just say what I think he said? you wonder, your brain reeling from Palpatine’s insinuation. It’s one thing for Mace Windu to joke about you and Anakin making powerful babies for him to train. It’s another thing entirely for Skeevy Sheevy to suggest breeding you. One white stone. 

Anakin turns several shades of red, obviously reacting to the idea with as much discomfort as you’re feeling.

Skeevy Sheevy merely continues smirking while he talks. “Certainly if the Jedi were wise, they would rescind their self-defeating rules against fraternization and encourage procreation among the finest members of the Order, such as yourselves. Why, within a generation, the Order's ranks would swell with heroes as the Republic needs.”

Uggggggh, really? As attracted as you are to Anakin, the more Skeevy Sheevy continues promoting the idea of progeneration between you and Anakin, the less you want to think about such an act, let alone participate in it. One white stone.

Anakin turns so red he begins to look like a human flame.

Palpatine sighs, smiling at both of you. “Forgive the ramblings of a foolish old man dreaming of the days of yore.”

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? If I agree with him, he’s going to take it as a sign I’m open to the idea of him breeding us. How do I politely disagree without offending him? One white stone. “My people have a saying: dreams are necessary to life; when you stop having dreams, you might as well stop living.”

Palpatine smiles at you. “Indeed, my dear. I find my dreams keep me young at heart, if not in body.”

Inwardly, you shudder at his words, knowing his dreams are the stuff of nightmares. One white stone. Outwardly, you smile politely. “May we all be inspired by the power of dreaming.”

You spend the return trip back home in the speeder cab lost in thought as you try to figure out what’s going on with Anakin. Anakin was so mad the night we had dinner with Palpatine and then he was fine the next day. He was even flattering Palpatine. But today he politely insulted the man. 

The more you think about the inconsistencies in Anakin’s behavior the more they confuse you, so much so that by the time you reach the Temple, you have to say something. “What’s going on with you, Anakin? Do you like the Chancellor or do you hate him? Half the time you’re fawning over him and the other half you’re low-key insulting him.”

Anakin looks startled and panicked for a moment before he suddenly laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the galaxy right now. “Oh, I’ve decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. Let’s see how he likes it when someone pretends to be his friend just to ruin his life.” Anakin grins maliciously and shrugs. “Sometimes he gets under my skin and I have to say something back.”

“Oh,” you say. You aren’t sure what you expected Anakin to say, but you didn’t expect him to be on a mission to take down Palpatine. “So, we’re both on the same page then? We’re lulling him into a false sense of complacency while we gather evidence against him?”

Anakin smiles at you, his eyes sparkling in a way that takes your breath away. “Exactly. Right now though, let’s go eat dinner. I’m starving.”

You feel a surge of guilt the moment you see Master Dooku as you realize you haven’t been meeting with him as regularly or as often as you should. Yet he has not reported your negligence to the Council nor harassed you about your obligation. Even now he does not harangue you, but merely nods in your direction as you enter the dining hall. 

After selecting your food choices from the buffet, you and Anakin head directly to Dooku’s table. “May we join you, Master?”

“Certainly.” He gestures to the empty bench across from him. 

“I owe you an apology, Master,” you say as you sit down, placing your tray on the table. Might as well address the rancor in the room and get it over with. “I have been derelict in my duty to train with you.”

Dooku nods and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “Your absence was noted but regrettably understandable under the circumstances.”

“Thank you, Master.” You aren’t sure what you expected, but you certainly didn’t expect him to be so compassionate and understanding about your mistake. 

“Perhaps today we might remedy your absences by training,” Dooku comments dryly.

“Now?” you ask, a bite of food halfway to your mouth.

“Why not?” Dooku smiles. “Your responsibilities do not end when you eat. This is an excellent place for practice using the Force to enhance your senses. Can you hear what the cooks are discussing in the kitchen?”

Anakin frowns, looking in the direction of the kitchen. “They’re out of something…”

You turn an ear toward the kitchen and breathe, focusing on your hearing, imagining you have ears as sensitive as a wolf. The sounds of pots and pans clanging fills your ears, along with a conversation. “They’re out of nausage for the breakfast buffet tomorrow morning; they’re sending a Padawan runner to the market to buy more.”

Dooku nods. “Well done, both of you. Those knights on the far side of the room, what are they discussing?”

Anakin turns to look at them. “They’re excited about the Jedi Tournament.”

You turn your head as well. “They wonder if they’ll find Padawans this year.”

Dooku nods. “Excellent. Now practice with your food. How many flavors can you taste in a single bite?”

You do as Dooku instructs, closing your eyes while you chew your next bite of food and counting all of fhe different flavors. When you’re finished with the bite, you open your eyes. “Eight.”

“Five,” Anakin says.

“Well done.” Dooku smiles at both of you. “With practice, the Force can be used to enhance or even completely replace your physical senses. Please practice while you eat.”

After finishing, you and Anakin follow Master Dooku to a practice room, where Dooku produces a pair of WJ-880 blinding helmets and a duo of practice droids from a crate.

“But Master Dooku,” Anakin begins, an offended look on his face. “Those are for younglings.”

Master Dooku silences Anakin with an arched eyebrow. “Neither of you were raised in the Temple, so it is reasonable to assume both of you could benefit from honing your ability to sense through the Force. Since both of you are far more advanced students, I have taken the liberty of modifying the parameters. Each bolt that strikes you will —of course— hurt, but also cost you one point. Each bolt that strikes your partner will cost you two points. When either of you have accumulated ten points, the game is over and both of you have lost. If either of you strikes the other, the game is over and both of you have lost. Disable the droids by using your lightsabers to reflect their blaster bolts back at them.”

You draw your lightsaber, making sure your weapon is set on stun. Beside you, Anakin does the same. Master Dooku hands you the youngling training helmet and you put it on, obscuring both your vision and your hearing.

“Begin!” Dooku commands. You can tell he’s yelling but his voice still sounds muffled through the helmet.

While you’re processing the audio effect a blaster bolt hits your ribs. 

Owww! Kriff. 

“One against Bari,” Dooku counts. “Two against Anakin.”

I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. You take a deep breath and reach out, extending your awareness outward. You can feel Anakin’s mental presence beside you for a moment before he moves around you, spinning and twirling. You finally manage to feel both droids circling you but Anakin drops them to the floor shortly before Dooku calls an end to the game. 

“Enough.”

You remove your helmet.

Dooku stares at Anakin in disappointed Professor mode. “Your dedication to protecting your Master is admirable, Skywalker. However, you do her a disservice by not allowing her to learn to protect herself. The day may come when you are separated or unable to protect each other. Let us try this again, but with an adjustment.”

Dooku rummages around in the box before withdrawing a pair of cuffs and hands them to Anakin.

Anakin stares back at the older man. “Seriously?”

Dooku arches an eyebrow. “The day may come when you require her to rescue you. Put these on, Skywalker.”

Anakin tilts his head, staring at Dooku in stubborn. “I can just stand here, Master.”

Dooku shakes his head and sighs. “I would like your Master to do this entirely on her own, hence the Force suppression cuffs to ensure you refrain from assisting her.”

Anakin sighs and sticks out his wrists. “Fine. Whatever.”

Dooku closes the cuffs around Anakin’s wrists. “Thank you for your cooperation, Skywalker.”

Anakin looks uncomfortable.

Dooku gestures at you, indicating you should put back on the helmet.

You don the helmet and enter the sensory void already seeking the signature buzzing of the practice droids as your heart hammers. There. And there. Spinning, you twirl your lightsaber, blocking and redirecting their blasts. The softly glowing sun of Anakin’s warmth still radiates near Dooku’s icy blue. One of the droids turns, headed towards Anakin. You tumble in-between them, redirecting the droid’s blaster bolt back at itself. The other approaches you from the side, firing twice.

You roll forward, hoping to draw them away from Anakin. One of the droids chases you. The other remains in place, hovering closer to Anakin. Kriff. The droid closest to you fires and you swing your blade at just the right moment, angling the bolt back at its compatriot before it can strike Anakin.

The far droid drops but the closer droid fires again, a salvo of three blasts. You barely manage to dance and spin away, the hovering metal sphere in hot pursuit. The practice droid fires two more times and you tumble forward, drawing on your emotions as Master Windu has taught you, using them to fuel your speed and push yourself faster. Halfway into your tumble you rock to the side, sending yourself into a short barrel roll. You end by jumping onto your feet and swinging at the droid itself like it has suddenly become a metal piñata.

“Enough.” Dooku’s voice rings out even in the muffled void of your helmet.

You extract your head from the inky darkness to discover the second practice droid rests across the room on the ground where it throws sparks. “I’m sorry, Master.”

Dooku shakes his head, looking like he’s trying very hard not to laugh. “In the future, please try not to break the practice equipment. Apparently, I needed to explicitly state ‘do not attack the droids’ as a rule.” 

Dooku presses a button on Anakin’s cuffs and releases him before returning the cuffs, helmets, and droids to the crate. “I know as young adults, the tools of younglings seem beneath you. However, we use the tools we do with younglings because they are the most effective and essential for a strong foundation in the Force. If you hope to survive training with the Order’s Sith Hunter, you will need a strong foundation.”

You stare at Master Dooku in surprise.

Dooku stares back. “Windu’s studies are no secret among the Council members. That he has chosen to take you under his mentorship can mean only one thing; you are being trained as a Sith Hunter.”

And yet you still take the time to teach me, knowing it could be your own undoing. You’re such a fascinating person. One white stone. You nod, bowing politely. “Thank you for your guidance, Master Dooku.”

Dooku dips his head in return. “Thank you for your willingness to learn, young lady. Until tomorrow, may the Force be with you.”

“And also with you, Master.”

Chapter Text

“What did you learn about yourself,” Master Windu asks as he always does at the beginning of every session.

“I learned how easy it is to break practice equipment,” you confess.

Master Windu arches an eyebrow at you.

Suddenly, you don’t want to meet his gaze anymore. “I might have used Vaapad on a practice droid.”

Master Windu chuckles. “Of course you did. Once you realize how powerful your emotions are, tapping into them becomes easier and easier. So too does drawing upon the dark side. I trust you have learned a valuable lesson about yourself.”

“Yes, Master,” you agree.

“And you, Skywalker?” Windu asks.

“I turn into a snarky karkhole when Palpatine does something to get under my skin,” Anakin admits.

Master Windu frowns. “We talked about this, Skywalker. We need the man to trust you. The point of acknowledging and accepting your emotions is to keep Sith Lords from being able to use them against you. Do better.”

“Yes, sir.” Anakin actually sounds contrite.

“What did you learn about Palpatine?” Master Windu asks.

“I took photos of objects in his office that felt tainted.” You pull up the photos on your phone, showing them to Master Windu.

“Well done. I want copies of these,” Master Windu says. “Anything else?”

“He seems unusually obsessed with young Force users,” Anakin says. “First with Padmé’s pregnancy and then yesterday he started talking about how the Jedi Order used to breed their own Force users. I don’t know what he wants with younglings but it can’t be good.”

Master Windu nods. “That is a disturbing trend. I will speak to the Council about this. Anything else?”

“He had a meeting yesterday with some people who seemed upset to see me; initially he wanted to take Indra but I told him the Council had enacted a new anti-fraternization policy forbidding members of the opposite sex from being alone together.”

Master Windu nods. “Well done. Given his strange predilections, I advise you to continue with this ruse. Bari, do not allow yourself to be alone with the man. Skywalker, watch your Master’s back.”

“Yes, sir.” Anakin dips his head respectfully.

“Given your current situation, I propose we follow a new training regimen. Bari, Skywalker, your job will be to protect each other while taking me down. If both of you can beat me by working together, I will reward you with a full day off; no training and no Palpatine duty.” Windu draws his lightsaber, igniting the blade and dialing the intensity down to stun mode. 

You and Anakin quickly do the same.

“Begin.” A single word is the only warning Windu gives you before he launches himself into action, speeding towards you.

Anakin reacts first, already spinning his lightsaber and deflecting Windu’s attack as you dance around them, attempting to flank the Master. Windu grins and flips forward over you, landing behind both of you. You spin around and continue attacking, breathing deeply into your core and emptying your mind. Beside you, Anakin assaults Master Windu with a flurry of blows but Windu parries each one away effortlessly, still smiling as he does so. You continue pressing forward, putting your all into the offense as you drive Windu backwards towards the wall. Before you can corner him, Windu turns and dances up the wall and back down again, coming back around behind you.

You turn to face him, still swinging your lightsaber to try and drive Windu back. Anakin does likewise, moving even faster than you do. No matter how fast or skillfully you both move, the Master is always faster. Again and again, Windu allows you to press your attacks against him until he is about to be trapped and then he reverses the situation. Sometimes he flips over your head, sometimes he runs up the wall halfway before jumping back down. Once, he tumbles between the two of you, causing you both to jump as if playing some semi-lethal version of jump-rope.

Eventually, even after drawing on your emotions, you still tire and Master Windu bests both of you, taking down Anakin in his last-ditch attempt to protect you before also dispatching you as well. He stands over the two of you — where you lay panting on the floor — extinguishing and replacing his saber before extending a hand to each of you.

“Well done.” Windu nods as you both stand back up. “You both fight well as individuals and decently well as a team. Practice working together. I want you to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses so you can compensate for each other.”

As usual, after a shower and a change of robes, you and Anakin pick up Palpatine from his apartment.

“Good morning, my boy,” Palpatine greets Anakin with a warm smile. “I hope you slept well last night.”

“I did, thank you, Chancellor.” Anakin smiles politely at Palpatine, but a hint of something else — suspicion perhaps — flashes across his eyes for a brief moment.

“Good, good,” Palpatine croons. “I hope you both slept well.”

Something in his tone doesn’t sit well with you. Is he the one sending me nightmares? He didn’t ask me yesterday. Why ask me today? Best not to answer him either way. One white stone. “Thank you, Chancellor.” 

“I hope you’ll be excited with my agenda today, Anakin.” Palpatine turns to smile at Anakin, placing his hand on Anakin’s leg. “Senator Amidala has promised to meet with me this morning.”

Anakin continues piloting the speeder, staring straight ahead. “That sounds like a welcome break for you, Chancellor. I’m glad you get to spend time with your friend.”

Palpatine stares at Anakin for several heartbeats — partially frozen — his pupils the only source of motion in his body. Then he resumes moving. “Thank you, my boy. You are so kind to me.” Palpatine removes his hand and turns his attention back to the skylane in front of him. Apparently unnerved by Anakin’s response, Palpatine remains quiet for the duration of the short speeder ride to his office.

Padmé arrives shortly after you do, Aayla Secura shadowing her silently.

Palpatine greets her at the door with a smile. “Padmé, my dear. It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, also, Chancellor.” Padmé smiles at him and then you. “And you as well, Indra, Knight Skywalker.” Padmé’s tone turns icy when she speaks Anakin’s name.

Knight Skywalker? What did Anakin do? you wonder . One white stone.  “It’s good to see you, too, Padmé.”

“Senator Amidala.” Anakin bows politely.

You and Anakin exchange silent nods with Secura. 

Padmé takes a seat in one of the chairs across from Palpatine’s desk. “What was it you wanted to discuss, Chancellor?”

Palpatine smiles patronizingly at Padmé. “Why, I wanted to visit with my friend and discuss what was going on with you, my dear. Your body needs all the rest it can get right now, not fourteen-hour work-days on the Senate floor. Perhaps Representative Binks could take over some of your more stressful duties.”

What he means is, “I can manipulate him into voting the way I want, he’s far more pliable and naive than you,” you think. One white stone

Padmé smiles politely at Palpatine. “I’m fine, Chancellor. I assure you.”

Palpatine shakes his head. “My dear, your parents would never forgive me if they knew I wasn’t taking good care of you. You should be surrounded by an entire village right now, not trying to manage on your own. Where is the father? He should be taking care of you, seeing to your every need.”

You look at Padmé, wondering how she’s going to answer him.

Padmé sighs, tossing her head. “The father is not in the picture anymore. We are not on speaking terms.”

Judging from her tone, she really is livid with Kenobi and you aren’t certain a simple apology will suffice. One white stone. 

Palpatine frowns at Padmé, his eyes darting to Anakin for a heartbeat before he returns his focus to her. “How terrible! You deserve better than that, my dear. We cannot allow him to treat you so poorly. You are a former Queen and a Senator. Tell me you will at least pursue legal action against him.”

Legal action? Like what? Child support? What exactly is Padmé actually supposed to do to Obi-Wan? He’s a Jedi. One white stone. 

“Legal action. Hrmm.” Padmé pauses, looking out the window past Palpatine for a moment before smiling at him. “What an excellent suggestion. I think I will pursue legal action. Thank you, Chancellor.”

“Of course, my dear.” Palpatine smiles at her. “It is my responsibility to look after you and your children. After all, you are the closest thing to a daughter I have ever had.”

Gross, you think. Thank the Force no one wants to have babies with you. You’d be a terrible monster of a father. One white stone.

Padmé smiles at Palpatine and for a moment she almost looks like she’s about to cry.

You want to throw up.

“I’m ever so glad to see you still have a Jedi protector,” Palpatine comments. “But whatever happened to Master Kenobi?”

This ought to be good, you think. One white stone. 

“The Order felt I would be better served by a female Jedi,” Padmé comments, making a face. “In case I need ‘assistance.’”

Does Aayla have any medical training? Or was that just a sexist assumption on their part? Either way, it backs up Anakin’s statement. One white stone. 

“Yes, I did hear something about a new anti-fraternization policy,” Palpatine comments. “It’s a pity the Order has to resort to such draconian methods.”

Padmé sighs again, pursing her lips as if closing them against words she is trying not to speak. Then she clears her expression, replacing it with a smile. “I see you have your own Jedi protectors now. Do you feel safer with them by your side?”

What didn’t you say, Padme? One white stone. 

Palpatine smiles. “Certainly. Master Bari and her Padawan are quite conscientious and careful bodyguards. I feel safer than I have ever felt with them around. Why, I’m certain Knight Skywalker alone could take on a small army of attackers.”

Padmé smiles at Anakin for a moment, her entire posture softening. “Yes, I imagine he could. Indra is also quite a fighter. They told me on Tatooine she took down ten Hutt enforcers with her bare hands.”

“I understand that is quite a feat.” Skeevy Sheevy gives you an appraising look. “Knowing I have them both guarding me makes me feel safe and secure.”

Ewww. Don’t look at me like that. One white stone.

“I’m glad.” Padmé smiles at Palpatine. “I really should go, Chancellor. I have a meeting in half a mark and my handmaidens will be angry if I don’t eat. As will you, I imagine.”

Palpatine smiles back. “Indeed, I will. Go eat, my dear. And do remember what I said. Should you ever need my help, it would be my honor to assist you.”

“Thank you, Chancellor.” Padmé stands up to leave. “I will.”

After his meeting with Padmé, Palpatine decides to rest for the remainder of the day. You know he’s probably off to do Sith Lord things and not take a nap, but you’re grateful for a much needed break of your own. After eating lunch with Anakin for the first time in what feels like forever, the two of you head to the crèche for a visit with your favorite younglings.

“Lady Jedi!” Teer’aa and Seer’aa nearly bowl you over as you enter the room, barrelling into you, arms wide open. “We missed you!”

You hug them both, swearing they’ve grown at least another foot since you’ve seen them last. “I’ve missed you too. What have you been learning?”

Seer’aa grins, face beaming with joy. “We learned how to read!”

“Mama says we can read better than her,” Teer’aa agrees, her little chest puffing out with pride.

“Congratulations!” You smile at them. “I’m proud of you. I hope you are proud of yourselves too.”

“We are,” Seer’aa says, still grinning.

“We got to visit the library, too,” Teer’aa adds, her voice full of awe. “There were sooooo many books!”

“Right?” You chuckle. “So many books! Do you still like living in the temple?”

“Yes!” Both girls agree. 

“We get lunch every day,” Seer’aa says, her eyes wide. “And dessert with dinner!”

Teer’aa nods, dropping her voice to a whisper. “And baths . We get a bath every night before bed.”

“And playtime,” Seer’aa adds. “The temple is amazing. Can we stay?”

“Yeah, can we?” Teer’aa asks.

Their pleas almost break your heart. You barely fight off tears. “Of course! You can stay in the Temple as long as you like. This is your home now.”

“And we’re your family,” Anakin adds, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Which makes me your older brother and that means it’s my sworn duty to play krayt dragon. Rarrrr!” Anakin hunches over, turning his fingers into claws as he pretends to stomp towards the twins. “Oh no, help us, Jedi!” Anakin says in a squeaky falsetto out of the corner of his mouth. “Save us from the krayt dragon!”

Seer’aa and Teer’aa both plant their feet and narrow their eyes, extending a hand towards Anakin as they lift him into the air.

“Naughty Krayt Dragon, people aren’t food,” Seer’aa scolds Anakin.

“Yeah, Mister Krayt Dragon. You gotta share da planet with da people.” Teer’aa nods.

“I want to share the planet,” Anakin echoes in a soft, hypnotic voice as though he’s just been mind-tricked.

“Good. Now, be a nice dragon,” Seer’aa commands.

“Okay.” Anakin drops down on all fours. “Who wants a dragon-back ride?”

“I do!” Teer’aa says, already climbing onto his back. 

“Meeeeee!” Seer’aa says, vaulting up behind her twin.

Anakin roars quietly and begins tromping around the crèche with the twins on his back.

“They seem happy,” you observe. “Are they?”

“Happier than I’ve ever seen them,” Chadrum replies.

“Does Venya come to visit them?” you ask.

“Every week.”

You nod. “Do the Jedi treat her well when she visits?”

Chadrum shrugs. “They mostly ignore her like they do me.”

“I’m sorry, Chadrum.” You look at them, feeling guilty.

“For what?” they ask. 

“You have no friends except for me,” you reply. “And I never come visit you these days.”

“I have Venya. And the twins,” Chadrum says. “And a few of the other younglings, including a young Togruta named Ahsoka. I have many friends here. They are kind people who cannot be sold. Here I have a soft bed in my own room. I have my choice of food at every meal. I have all the water I can drink. Life is good in the Temple.”

After visiting the twins, you and Anakin report to Dooku for more training. Today you meet him in a mammoth storage room deep in the labyrinth under the Temple. Tall shelves stacked high with boxes and crates rise to a ceiling so distant the light becomes dim by the time it reaches the floor - or perhaps Dooku hasn’t actually turned on all the lights. Repulsor lifts, crates, and other items lurk in the corners and in some of the aisles, creating pockets of shadow throughout the room.

Dooku is not alone; a familiar pair of Force users stand beside him.

“Master Bari, Knight Skywalker, this is Master Vos and my Padawan, Knight Ventress.”

You bow politely to each of them, your brain struggling with the cognitive dissonance-inducing overlap of  ideas; your mental image of Ventress and Vos as animated characters versus the reality of meeting them in the flesh.

“Pleased to meet you,” Ventress says dryly, leaving you fairly certain she’s not.

Vos dips his head. “Hey.”

“Pleased to meet you,” you reply, echoing Ventress. Whatever you think of her as a character, it is pretty freaking cool to meet her in person.

“Nice to meet you,” Anakin agrees.

“Like yourselves, Ventress also did not grow up in the Temple. Master Vos has generously agreed to assist me today in conducting an activity you would have played as younglings in the crèche; Scout & Shroud.”

Anakin looks skeptical.

Before he can voice any objection, Dooku continues talking. “I understand you think the games initiates play are beneath you, but I would appreciate it if you would humor me and participate, imagining I have your best interests at heart. With all of the pressure in your lives, I felt engaging in play might relieve some stress.”

Dooku pauses, giving you the kind grandfather smile. “I know it may pain you to hear this, but there are occasions in which the dramatic maneuver is not to your tactical advantage. Rendering a guard unconscious may gain you access to a secure facility but will also likely alert others who will raise alarms and hinder your mission. However, passing by the guards unnoticed allows you to move freely throughout the premises and achieve your objective without anyone aware of your presence. A wise Jedi knows when to drop a wall on an adversary and when to distract them.” Dooku raises his eyebrow at Anakin.

“You will play today’s game in teams of two; Vos and Ventress, Bari and Skywalker. One team will be the shrouds; your job is to find the best hiding place possible within five minutes and occupy it until you are found or the shrouds run out of time. The other team will be the scouts; your job is to locate the shrouds in their hiding places within fifteen minutes or lose the round. At the end of the round, when the scouts have either located the shrouds or ceded the round, they become the new shrouds just as the shrouds become the new scouts. The game is played in four rounds. At the end of four rounds, whichever team has lasted the longest as shrouds wins the game and a rest day. You may use any and all Force abilities at your disposal.”

Dooku nods at you and Anakin. “As the younger team, you may choose your starting position. Shrouds or scouts?”

You look at Anakin, your brain racing. Anakin looks back. 

I’m good at hiding. I bet Anakin is as well.

‘Shrouds?’ you ask mentally.

You raise your eyebrows at him.

Anakin grins and nods, turning back towards Dooku. “Shrouds.”

“Excellent.” Dooku claps his hands together, appearing genuinely excited. He turns to the side, pulling out two youngling helmets and two pairs of Force suppression cuffs, handing one of each to the scouts. “Put these on while the shrouds hide, please.”

As Ventress and Vos shut down their senses — both Force and physical — Dooku pulls out a chronometer. “You are the shrouds. You have five minutes to hide. Starting… now.”

‘What are you waiting for? C’mon, let’s go!’ Anakin takes off, sprinting down an aisle.

You quickly follow behind him, hurrying to catch up. 

Anakin races between the shelves, scanning them for ideas. He rounds the corner into another row and pauses before a stack of heavy looking crates. ‘I bet I could open one of these so you could hide inside.’

You shake your head. ‘I’m pretty sure the point is to learn new Force abilities or demonstrate ones we already know,’ you reply. 

‘Exactly. I use the Force to pry the lid open.’ Anakin grins at you.

You shake your head again. ‘What if I can’t breathe in there? Those look pretty airtight to me.’

‘Good point. I need you to keep breathing.’ Anakin looks around you. ‘Got any suggestions?’

You look around, spying an empty spot in a row of identical crates on a nearby shelf. ‘What if we used the Force to create an illusion?’

Anakin arches his eyebrow. ‘Okay?’

‘Come on.’ You quietly begin climbing the shelves.

Anakin manages to somehow arrive in the empty space before you, reaching down to help you with a grin.

You smile at him and shake your head as you clear the bottom and crawl into the shelf. 

‘Now what?’ he asks.

‘Now, we imagine there’s a crate around us identical to all the others and we project it outward like a mind trick,’ you reply. 

‘A what?’ Anakin frowns. 

‘You know, when you wave your hand and exert your will and tell someone what to do, like what the twins were pretending to do.’

‘Oooh.’ Anakin nods. ‘Gotcha.’

You study the crates on either side of you before closing your eyes and focus on projecting the mental image out of your head and into the world around you. There is only a crate here.

Beside you, you feel the warmth of Anakin’s mental presence reinforcing your illusion and you settle in, calmly waiting for your five minutes to be up. 

You don’t have to wait long; soon you hear Dooku’s voice calling out in the storage room. “Shrouded or not, here come the scouts!”

There is only a crate here. Holding the image of the durasteel crate in your mind, you project it outward as though it’s an external version of your one white stone. 

Two pairs of footsteps approach, both so quiet you might normally have never heard them if not for your meditative state.

There is only a crate here.

The footsteps pause below you.

“I swear I can smell them,” Ventress says quietly.

You ignore the part of your ego that wants to be offended in favor of your crate. There is only a crate here.

“They were here, they touched these shelves,” Vos replies just as quietly.

There is only a crate here.

“They’re still here,” Ventress responds.

You cling to your crate. There is only a crate here. 

“But where?” Vos asks. “There’s nothing but crates.”

That’s right. There is only a crate. 

“Up,” Ventress says. “Wait here.” You hear and feel movement as Ventress scales the shelves. 

You grip the mental image of your crate, holding it in front of you as though it is a shield and pushing it outward. There is only a crate here.

You’ll never know exactly what happened but you suspect your illusion was strong enough for Ventress to try her Dathomiri climbing skills on the surface of your imaginary crate and come tumbling down. What you know right now is that Ventress suddenly falls into your empty shelf at the same time as Vos calls out a disbelieving curse below her.

“What the kriff?”

Ventress narrows her eyes and glares at you. “Clever. But not clever enough. I have the shrouds!”

“Return to start!” Dooku commands.

Ventress turns around and vaults down from the shelf as though doing so will mend the bruise on her ego from falling.

Anakin shrugs and jumps down behind her, as though the several meters between you and the ground is nothing. Seeing the other Force users leap down, you decide to do so as well. Trusting in the Force, you jump, and find you are able to land as gracefully as Anakin and Ventress, as though gravity is optional for you. Feeling pleased over your two new Force skills, you grin to yourself as you follow the others back to the door. 

“Your turn.” Dooku hands a helmet and pair of cuffs to you and Anakin.

You enter the sensory void and then place your wrists inside the cuffs, effectively locking yourself inside your own head for five minutes. Knowing yourself well enough to know you do better with a progress meter, you count the seconds off in your head while you wait. Three hundred, two-ninety-nine, two-ninety-eight...  

Shortly after you reach zero, Dooku turns off and removes the cuffs, followed by your helmet and then Anakin’s. “Shrouded or not, here come the scouts!”

Anakin starts and then stops again, pausing to turn and look at you. ‘Where do you wanna start?’

‘By looking for their Force signatures,’ you suggest.

Anakin nods.

You close your eyes and look inward, seeing both Dooku and Anakin immediately. You do not, however, see Ventress or Vos.

‘I don’t see them,’ Anakin confirms. 

‘Me either,’ you agree, opening your eyes.

Anakin frowns. ‘Now what?’

‘We let the Force guide us?’ you suggest.

‘How, exactly?’ Anakin asks.

‘By holding their images in our mind and then feeling for them. Or feeling where we should go,’ you explain. 

Anakin looks skeptical. ‘Lead the way, my lady.’

Something in his mental tone of voice and the way he emphasizes ‘ my lady’ makes you blush but you push the awareness away and focus on finding the other Force users instead.

You close your eyes, picturing Vos and Ventress. Where are they? A gentle tug on your subconscious pulls you to the left so you follow it. ‘This way.’

Your hand outstretched, you feel your way through the shelves and stacks before you reach an impasse. A large crate occupies the space before you, but your gut says they are just on the other side of it. 

Anakin frowns at you. ‘What is it?’

‘I think they’re behind the crate.’ You nod your head toward the object in question.

Anakin raises his hand and uses the Force to raise the heavy metal box.

Behind it you find both Ventress and Vos hiding. 

“Clever. But not clever enough.” You grin at Ventress.

Ventress scowls and glares at you. “Very funny.”

“I thought it was.” You pull the Han Solo shrug. 

“We have the shrouds!” Anakin calls out. 

“Return to start!” Dooku commands.

The four of you assemble in front of Dooku, who hands the helmets and cuffs to the new scouts. 

He stares at his chronometer. “Both teams are currently tied for time going into round three. You have five minutes to hide, starting now!”

Anakin tilts his head toward you. ‘Lead the way, my lady.’

With Anakin by your side, you sprint down another aisle of shelves, where you spot a bank of repulsorlifts at their charging stations. Another, larger machine sleeps under its dust cover nearby. 

Using the Force to raise the dust cover, you gesture to Anakin to climb inside the sleeping metal contraption and then follow after him yourself, carefully lowering the cover around you so that the dust isn’t disturbed. 

‘Now what?’ Anakin looks at you.

‘We hide ourselves in the Force the way they did,’ you suggest.

‘How?’ Anakin arches an eyebrow.

You frown, rapidly scanning through everything you read in the library and everything you know from the lore of both Legends and Canon. ‘By doing the same thing we did with the crate,’ you suggest. ‘We mentally project the idea of there being no Force users here.’

Anakin shrugs. ‘Alright. Sure.’

You close your eyes and focus on the absence of Force users in this area. ‘There are no Force users present,’ you repeat to yourself as though it is your white stone.

You’re deeply entranced, almost on the edge of sleep when you hear Dooku’s voice calling out. “Scouts concede. Return to start.”

Anakin grins at you. ‘That actually worked!’

You grin back. ‘We’re awesome.’

‘Yeah we are,’ he agrees. 

Feeling pleased with learning another new Force skill, you slip out from under your dust cover and back to the beginning.

“Well done.” Dooku beams at you. “Even I could not detect your Force signatures.” He hands you a helmet and cuffs.

You put on the gear once more and begin another countdown. Dooku turns off and removes the cuffs and helmet shortly after you reach zero.

He removes Anakin’s as well. “Shrouded or not, here they come!”

Beside you, Anakin gestures with his head for you to take the lead.

Picturing Ventress and Vos, you hold out your hand as you search for them up and down the aisles of rows. You feel like you get closer but can never actually pinpoint their location, as though there’s no way for you to get any closer without climbing the walls or walking on the ceiling. Which — you have to admit — sounds pretty on-brand for Ventress, or any Nightsister, really.

‘What’s the problem?’ Anakin asks. 

‘I can’t get any closer to them without climbing the shelves and I can’t climb and feel for them at the same time,’ you reply.

Anakin frowns. ‘I could lift you up with the Force?’

‘It’s not the craziest idea,’ you agree. ‘Why not?’

Anakin raises a hand and carefully lifts you into the air. ‘Where to?’

Trusting him, you close your eyes and hold out your hand. ‘Up higher.’

Anakin raises you even higher.

‘Forward.’

Anakin guides you forward.

The two of you continue searching the ceiling and the tops of the shelves, but the room is too large for you to find them before time runs out.

After fifteen minutes have passed, Dooku calls the round. “Scouts concede. Return to start.”

Anakin lowers you to the ground carefully, looking apologetic. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” you reassure him. “Your solution was a brilliant one. I’m sorry I didn’t find them.”

Anakin shrugs. “We did our best.”

“We did,” you agree.

The two of you return to the entrance of the room along with the others. 

Ventress grins as she comes to stand beside you on the other side from Anakin. “Looks like we’re even. For now.”

Realizing her smile is genuine, you laugh. “Until next time then, Ventress.”

Chapter Text

You’re almost asleep when your wandering mind reminds you of four important facts. One: yesterday you overheard Knights talking about the upcoming Padawan trials. Two: Chadrum reminded you of Ahsoka’s existence. Three: if the trials are coming up, Ahsoka will probably be among the eligible Initiates this year.

In canon, they assigned her to Anakin because of the war. But, there is no war, so Ahsoka might get picked by a different Master. Or no Master at all. Which could be disastrous for both Ahsoka and Anakin.

This thought brings you to fact number four . This is the year Cad Bane steals the holocron from theTemple.

Having realized these facts, you know yourself well enough to know you can’t sleep until you’ve done something about them. Sighing, you leave your bed, dress in a fresh set of robes, and head off in search of Master Yoda. As usual, you find him waiting for you in a meditation room.

“Trouble sleeping, you have?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you admit with a laugh. “How did you know?”

“Felt you needed me, I did,” he responds. “Help you, how can I?”

“I’m concerned about some things I saw, Master Yoda.” 

“About the things, tell me,” he replies.

“I saw a young Togruta initiate destined to become Anakin’s Padawan. But she cannot be his Padawan while he is spying on Sidious, especially not given the Chancellor’s unnatural fixation with Force sensitive children. She should be entering this year’s trials. Given how many of Obi-Wan’s challenges result from his placement in the support corps, I don’t want that to happen to this girl because Anakin isn’t currently eligible to choose her.”

“The youngling you speak of, I know.” Master Yoda nods. “Agree with you, I do. Well suited to be the Padawan of Skywalker, she is. But around Sidious, she must not be. Suggestions, you have?”

“I also saw her training with Obi-Wan,” you say. “Perhaps Obi-Wan could mentor her while we are with the Chancellor.”

Master Yoda nods, smiling at you. “Yes, work, this could. Ready to train a Padawan, do you think Skywalker is?”

Your heart lurches in response to his question. Is Anakin ready to train Ahsoka? Absolutely. Are you ready to have him move out and into his own quarters with Ahsoka, leaving you alone? Not at all. But that isn’t what Master Yoda asked. Nor is it the Jedi way. “Yes, Master Yoda. I believe he is ready.”

“Good, this is. Done well you have.” Master Yoda continues smiling at you.

“I saw something else, Master,” you say.

“See what, did you?” he asks.

You frown. “I saw a Duros bounty hunter named Cad Bane steal the holocron registry of Force sensitive children for Sidious.”

“Do this, how did he?” Master Yoda looks and sounds worried.

“By using a Vertseth Automata Techno-service droid to gain access to the Temple security system, killing Master Ord Enisence, and using a Clawdite bounty hunter to pose first as Master Enisence and then as Master Nu.”

Master Yoda’s eyes widen. “Concerning, this is. To my attention, thank you for bringing this.”

“Thank you for listening, Master Yoda,” you reply, mindful of how impossible all of this would be without his help and trust.

“Learned from my mistakes, I have,” he responds. “Listened to Sifo-Dyas, we should have.”

After talking to Master Yoda, you are finally able to sleep. You almost feel like a well-rested human by the time breakfast and training with Master Windu roll around.

“What did you learn about yourself?” he asks as always.

“I learned new Force abilities,” you say with a grin. 

“Excellent.” Master Windu nods approvingly. “And you, Skywalker?”

“I learned I can do some pretty wizard things when I work as part of a team instead of running off on my own,” Anakin replies. “I learned following someone else’s lead can actually be fun.”

“I am pleased to hear you’ve been practicing your teamwork skills.” Master Windu steps back, pulling out his lightsaber, and setting it to stun. “You will need them.”

You and Anakin pull out your lightsabers as well, also making sure to dial down the intensity.

“Begin,” Master Windu commands.

‘Back to back,’ Anakin says telepathically as he moves to guard your rear. ‘Soresu.’

You do as he suggests, shifting into a defensive stance just as Master Windu bears down upon you. Breathing into your core, you draw upon the comfort and security of having Anakin at your back and allow yourself to embody the principle of wu wei as you effortlessly block Windu’s attacks. After some time he circles around you, probing Anakin’s defenses the way he tested yours while you have a few heartbeats to rest. Windu begins to circle back around, attacking your side.

You breathe in, inhaling and drawing upon the surety, support, and trust you feel, using the emotions to power your movements and keep up with Master Windu’s frenetic pace. Once more he appears to grow bored with attacking you and moves to circle around and fight Anakin for a while.