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tatooinebarnes · 1 year

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As It Was - Obi-Wan Kenobi (Part 1)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Gender Neutral Original Character

Read on AO3

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: cursing, canon typical violence

Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi and Cecil Palmarin have known each other since childhood. and for as long as they can remember they've been pushing down the feelings of affection that always seem to be present between them. But war changes people. And war changes perceptions on what risks you're willing to take.

Gender Neutral Original Character written from their POV. No y/n. Minor allusions to OC presenting as/being socialized as fem. But mostly just their POV.

Asexual Spectrum OC and Obi-Wan

Begins in the Clone Wars, ends in A New Hope

Part 1 (Chapters 1-7)

CH. 1 - Home

Back-to-back with Obi-Wan while reflecting blaster shots had begun to feel like a familiar task, something I did as easy as lacing up my boots rather than a fight for my life.

Perhaps it’s an exaggeration to say that we were fighting for our lives; this Separatist base was ill-prepared to deter the attack of two Jedi and a host of Republic forces and were all but holding the door open for us. The only reason Obi-wan and I were here was to assure that the intel we were seeking was delivered into the hands of the Jedi Council as quickly as possible. Frankly, we were unneeded.

And I wished they had let us stay behind because the falling snow was already piling halfway up my shins and the temperature was steadily dropping as we ventured closer to the base’s main entrance. My hair had broken loose of its tie and was blowing wildly around my face being anything but helpful in deflecting blaster fire. I cursed myself for not making time to do up the braids again before this mission.

The snow fell slowly, a thick blanket muffling the sounds of battle and making everything glow eerily under the blaze of our lightsabers. Finally the blaster fire slowed and I could see our forces setting charges on the main doors. I lowered my saber, letting it fall to my side and click off, breathing hard. Obi-Wan did the same, pushing the long hair I had been begging him to let me trim out of his face.

“Something is wrong,” Obi-Wan said suddenly, his body going rigid as he jumped back into a defensive stance.

I reached out and could feel it too, a sudden shift in the Force, a dark presence that had been slyly concealing itself. At the same moment, the charges set on the base’s doors went off, spraying debris and clouding the air. Blaster fire emitted from the now gaping hole and as our own forces returned fire a red saber lit up within the smoke.

“Ventress,” I said definitely. It was rumored she was in this system but no one had thought she would be on this planet, let alone this little outpost.

“Unfortunately,” Obi-Wan muttered, “this just got a whole lot more complicated.”

“You don’t say?” I said, rolling my eyes before refocusing on where Ventress’s slim figure was emerging from the cloud of debris.

Even from afar, I could see Ventress was pink in the face and feel her aversion to this god-forsaken ice planet. Nobody wanted to be here, least of all the foreboding periwinkle woman. On that subject I agreed with her; this was far too cold a place to call inhabitable.

“Cecil-” Obi-wan started, his tone annoyed.

“Don’t ‘Cecil’ me, Obi-Wan,” I said badly impersonating him, my own accent fading poorly when I tried to conceal it, “I am not Anakin. Or Ahsoka. You can’t scold me for sassing you. How many times must I remind you of that?”

“You are insufferable,” Obi-Wan said, humor creeping into his voice and he spared a glance at me, eyes crinkling.

Ventress had spotted us almost immediately and I could feel her anger growing. I had crossed her path only once before and that occasion had resulted in the death of far too many clones and a saber burn across my forearms. But today, she was mad.

She met us with smashing hacks, lightsaber crackling as anger rolled off her in waves, seething in a way that seemed to surprise even Obi-Wan. But he recovered quickly, easily retaliating against her attacks, the two of us soon gaining the upper hand.

I had the feeling that the entire compound had stopped to watch; two Jedi carefully navigating an enraged Sith, all three stumbling through the growing snow drifts. The more we gained control the madder she became, her attacks sloppy but annoyingly effective. She was moving so fast that even with our combined attack everything was beginning to blur, only our trust in the Force keeping us from falling beneath the scarlet blade. But it was only a matter of time before one of us made a mistake.

The first mistake was Ventress’s - leaving her side unguarded - earning her deep, sizzling mark from Obi-Wan. But the second mistake was mine - assuming that she would recoil instead of attack - a mistake which sent me flying across the compound, the smell of burning flesh accompanying me.

“Cecil!” I heard Obi-Wan’s voice yell, but knew nothing else but a searing pain along my right side.

–

I woke from the memory gasping, sitting up so fast I almost knocked my head on the bunk above me. Ahsoka was staring at me, bent to my level and grasping my hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice anxious.

Unconsciously I reached up to where what was left of my ear tingled, tracing the scar of the saber burn down my neck to where it disappeared beneath my tunic. My other hand automatically reached up to feel my other ear, as if it would disappear without my noticing.

“Another nightmare Master Palmarin?”

“Yes,” I said, still unable to fully catch my breath and unwilling to lie to her, “the same one as always. I doubt it will ever go away.”

Her gaze softened, “It’s only been four and a half months. The burn is barely even healed.”

I nodded but did not share her sentiment. A series of long soaks in a bacta tank had healed the wound enough that it did not hinder my movement much and I could hide that half my ear was missing, but the pink scar still stood out against my dark skin, painfully obvious anytime I caught a passing reflection of myself. I wondered if it would ever really fade to something that only I could see instead of being the glaring reminder that I had almost died, Ventress had escaped and that the whole mission had failed because of my mistake.

Ahsoka did not press any further but gave my hands a squeeze as she got up and headed back to the cockpit, “We’re coming in on the rendezvous point. Anakin requested we join them on the planet’s surface instead of boarding their cruiser to transfer the supplies since they’d have to bring it down anyway.”

I nodded and followed her, eternally thanking the gods that Anakin’s Padawan was responsible beyond her years and could be trusted to pilot the cargo ship while her superior had nightmares about things they should not fear.

“I’m not going to lie Master Palmarin,” Ahsoka said without looking at me as she guided the ship onto the landing pad “You don’t look so good. Are you sure you should be doing all this with that wound?”

“I’m sure,” I replied, refusing to dwell on the way I could see that my reflection in the windshield looked tired, my dark complexion lacking its usual glow. Instead, I let a smile form as my gaze caught on two familiar robed figures on the landing pad, the bearded one’s grin visible from afar.

–

“General Palmarin. Commander Tano,” a trooper saluted us as we exited the ship, “Good to see you both again.”

I nodded in return, not recognizing his identification number and did not have time to ask his name before being enveloped in a bone crushing hug. To my own dismay, I did not conceal my flinch in pain well enough and Obi-Wan immediately retracted his grip, holding me at arm’s length looking immensely guilty.

“Cecil I’m so sorry- I keep forgetting-” he started.

“It’s alright. It’s still just a little tender sometimes,” I said, smiling widely at him, feeling giddy to see that ever-present amusement in his expression. He always seemed to be looking at me like we were sharing a personal and deeply hilarious joke, a gaze that never quite left me.

Obi-Wan almost unconsciously reached up to tuck one of my long braids behind my still existent ear but quickly retracted his hand looking embarrassed.

“It’s good to see you,” I smiled, pushing my feeling of joy at him through the Force. He smiled wider this time and wrapped me in another short hug.

Anakin broke in across his former Master’s light grip, his hug less invasive than Obi-Wan’s but genuine never-the-less, “I hope you’re ready to give Snips back because I am getting tired of taking orders from General Serious-Business-Only.”

I chuckled and caught Obi-Wan’s eye as he frowned, only making me laugh harder, “I’m sure General Serious-Business-Only could find some excuse to lighten up.”

Anakin grinned wickedly, the sort of grin that told me he already had something up his sleeve and he just needed someone of authority to egg him on. Sometimes I wondered why he was allowed to have a Padawan.

“The High Council of this planet is hosting a celebration tonight in thanks for you dropping medical supplies and our involvement in keeping their planet ‘Separitist free.’ How about staying for the night instead of leaving now?”

“Anakin-” Obi-Wan started, the signature scolding tone entering his voice.

“Come on Master, it will be FUN,” Anakin continued.

When Obi-Wan did not have an immediate comeback Anakin nodded curtly, bouncing on his toes, “it’s been decided then! We’re staying for the night. Come on Snips, let’s go join the party.”

We watched them go, Obi-Wan frowning with his arms crossed.

“It really won’t hurt to stay the night,” I said, nudging him in the ribs, “Ahsoka hasn’t slept since we left Endor. She deserves a good rest.”

“That goes for you too,” Obi-Wan smiled, “Get some good sleep.”

Before I could respond, Anakin's voice crackled over Obi-Wan’s comm link, “And don’t you two even think of going to bed early. Tonight is for celebration.”

“Anakin-” Obi-Wan started in the same exasperated voice.

“And yes, I promise to get Ahsoka to bed at a reasonable hour. She needs the sleep. But also a little fun in her life. And so do you.”

I laughed at the expression on Obi-Wan’s face, “We’re at war, Anakin.”

“Yes I know Master, that’s why you have to take any opportunity you can get.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes again and this time I couldn’t resist joining him.

–

The four of us were perched on barstools, crammed around a small hightopped table clearly not meant to have four Jedi leaning on it, especially with the way Anakin kept excitedly gesturing. The celebration was in full swing around us, the room a blur of pale blue-skinned natives dancing, eating and conversing as we remained the only stationary point.

“You know,” Anakin started, letting his glass hit the table a little too hard. “I am really a very responsible teacher. I never let Ahsoka do anything I think she can’t handle.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow like he wanted to protest but didn’t want to offend Ahsoka.

“Except for the time-” Ahsoka started.

“I knew you could handle it-” Anakin interrupted a frown of annoyance forming a crease between his brows.

“Oh? And what was that?” I asked grinning mischievously.

“Nothing.” Anakin and Ahsoka said together.

“See now you have my interest sparked,” I said, already knowing we would not be getting this story out of them anytime soon.

“It was just a little miscommunication, and things got a little…. hairy.”

“I see….” Obi-Wan mumbled, “Probably something I’ll be hearing about later and have to reprimand you for?”

Anakin grinned, briefly catching Ahsoka’s eye, “Yeah, probably.”

I shook my head with amusement, reveling in the dynamic the three shared. I knew them all well individually, but I rarely got to see them all together. They exuded a joy and glow that was rare in the midst of the war, a sense of home that seemed to travel with them wherever they went. When they were together they made everyone around them feel like they were in on some hilarious practical joke that was always at the precipice of occurring. Never before within the Jedi Order had I felt quite so at home.

“Cecil! Are you listening?” Anakin said, waving a hand in front of my face, “They’re playing your favorite song.”

I zoned back in to discover that Anakin was right: this little planet on the edge of the galaxy had somehow managed to dig up an old relic far outside their culture to play at the exact moment that we happened to be on-planet. I all but jumped to my feet, unable to stay stay seated as the familiar baseline filled the room.

“Did you request this?” I asked, feeling that the grin on my face was one none of them had seen for far too long.

Anakin grinned back and glanced conspiratorially at Obi-Wan, “No, but I do know someone who did.”

“Obi-Wan! You remembered!” I said a little too loudly, causing the people around us to stare as I leaned over the table to grasp his hands and tug him off his stool.

“Cecil no-”

“Oh relax, you requested the song. You’re required to dance now,” I laughed, pulling him after me into the throng of people in the center of the room where the tables had been pushed to the side. I flailed my arms in a way that I knew would look ridiculous in hopes I could at least get him to crack a smile.

The tactic worked and he seemed to relax a little, letting himself bob up and down on the balls of his feet to the beat of the music. Unsatisfied, I did not let go of his hands, instead forcing them to move, forcing him to at least move his upper body to the music a little. I could hear Anakin laughing and Ahsoka giggling but I couldn’t see anything else but the amused way Obi-Wan was smiling as if it took all his restraint to not burst out laughing.

“You can laugh, you know. I do look ridiculous. We look ridiculous,” I said.

“That is precisely what I’m worried about,” he deadpanned, still looking extremely uncomfortable with having been dragged out into the throng of dancing blue people, their smaller builds leaving us towering over them and making us stand out.

“No one else is here. No one to tell on you if you have a little fun,” I prompted, “and I think Anakin and ‘Soka will bother you more about it if you don’t at least pretend to have fun.”

We both looked back at Anakin and Ahsoka to find that they had disappeared, probably in search of the drinks we had forbidden them from seeking. I frowned but their lack of presence seemed to make Obi-Wan more comfortable and he finally started to move, his feet actually shuffling along the ground as he danced.

Maybe ‘danced’ was a strong word. It was more of just moving his limbs in a way that made them slightly off beat but somehow managed to not look completely ridiculous. By the end of the song we were hanging off each other, breathless and giggling like little kids.

The last note of the song faded and the moment of unadulterated joy faded, bringing us back to reality. The next song picked up slowly, something obviously more familiar to our hosts but also obviously meant for slow dancing. They all coupled up and began slow promanaudes around the room before I could even register that we might want to excuse ourselves. In an instant it was too late and we were the only ones in the middle of the crowd not swaying to the music alongside a partner.

Much to my surprise, Obi-Wan bowed low before me, offering his hand and said in a serious tone, “Would you care to dance Master Palmarin?”

“How could I refuse Master Kenobi?” I grinned accepting his hand.

Although I had been holding his hands only moments before in our fervent excitement of my favorite song, this felt forbidden, like something we were not allowed to partake in. A blush rose in my cheeks and all the way through my ears and I hoped that the fact my braids were beginning to frizz out would hide it. However, Obi-Wan’s lips tilted up into a half smile like he noticed and I felt his presence in the Force shift, falling from the unorganized joy he had been exuding to a carefully masked affection that I was immediately sure he had not meant to let me feel.

The blush rose higher in my cheeks as one of his hands fell on the curve of my waist and the other remained carefully wrapped in mine. I placed my free hand on his shoulder, the familiar feeling of Jedi tunics suddenly alien when I was touching someone else’s.

He led, slowly weaving out of the center of swaying couples, spinning us in slow revolutions around the room. Not for a moment did he break eye contact and not for a moment did I want him to. When he had spun us to the edge of the crowd and could lead us no further he stopped as if he’d been prepared for everything up to that moment. He took his eyes off me for a half second to search the room behind me and I could feel him reaching into the Force, checking for Anakin and Ahsoka. When he did not seem to find them he returned his gaze to mine and I could all but hear his heart hammering in his chest.

The blush in my cheeks had risen so much I was sure I was looking like an ripe tomato and I couldn’t even begin to effectively push it down because my heart was fluttering just as fast as Obi-Wan’s. A curious desire to hug him closer came over me, to pull him down to where I could study each and every detail of the light blue eyes that were searching my hazel ones so intently.

Instead I settled for letting my other hand come up to rest on his neck, his long hair hiding the fact that I was practically hanging off him. Both his hands on my waist now, the subtle weight of them feeling completely right and natural despite the little voice in the back of my head that would not stop repeating “Jedi Do Not Form Attachments.”

“I hope you know, Obi-Wan whispered, his breath hot across my face, “I never feel more at home than with you.”

“Obi-Wan-”

“I won’t say anything else compromising,” he said, his eyes twinkling as they remained locked on mine, “but I want you to know.”

I let my hands wander up to cup his face, “Don’t say that out loud. Because then I’d never be able to unhear it. And I’ll never want to leave home either.”

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath, his eyes closing as he leaned his head into my right hand. After a moment he turned his head just enough so his lips brushed my palm, a motion that sent an involuntary shiver through my whole body.

He remained silent and unmoving for the smallest moment before opening his eyes. His hands came off my waist to grasp my wrist, pulling my hand away. My fingertips trailed down his face like the tears I felt like crying before falling between us where he held my hands in his.

“You’re right, Cecil, you’re always right.”

I smiled, my voice low and on the verge of breaking, “I know.”

---------------------------------------

Ch. 2 - Not A Secret

Obi-Wan sat atop the Jedi Temple, legs crossed and deep in meditation. If his eyes had been open he’d have seen the slowly fading light as it began to cast long shadows over Coruscant. This late in the year the far off edges of the great city were shrouded in smog, a glittering haze that was invisible up close.

The sounds of the Temple district were far off, the dull roar of the deep cityscape almost unnoticeable to Obi-Wan’s ear. Up here it was easy to let everything else go and simply float, let the Force wash over him. The gnawing pressure of the war could almost be pushed away, so far he could barely feel the haunting tension.

Abruptly his concentration was broken, footsteps appearing before him. His eyes snapped open to find Cecil looking down at him.

“Wow, startling THE Obi-Wan Kenobi?” Cecil grinned.

Obi-Wan chuckled, “Only because I wasn’t expecting anyone up here.”

“You’re always up here. It’s not like it’s a secret.”

“And I thought I was being discreet about my meditation spot.”

Cecil smiled, sinking to the ground in front of him and pushing forward a paper cup full of caf, “I heard a rumor there’s a Council meeting later.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head in thanks, “Yes, there is. But nobody has told me when.”

“Rude of them, seeing as you are on the Council.”

“Which means they want something from me,” he said, eyes sparkling. He returned his gaze to Cecil, briefly getting distracted by the way they nearly glowed backlit by the sunset.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Cecil asked. Obi-Wan noticed the way they fidgeted with their own paper cup; the folded edge had been unrolled and rerolled into a mangled depiction of its original form.

“Nothing,” he said, careful to maintain a level tone, “the sunset is just so incredible this time of year.”

Obi-Wan thought he caught a smile creep across Cecil’s features as they turned away, long braids swaying. He had to force himself to not stare, but even still, a stab of guilt flashed through him as the movement revealed the still pink saber burn. Nearly seven months later it still looked painful.

“It’s rude to stare you know,” Cecil said without looking at him.

Obi-Wan blanched, feeling like he had been doing an excellent job not staring.

Cecil turned back, this time carefully pulling the many long braids away, exposing the saber burn where it descended into their tunic. With a clearer view, Obi-Wan could tell the wound was healing, that it no longer looked nearly as painful as it had been. But it would scar. A remembrance of those terrible moments. And to think he could have stopped it-

“I know you’re thinking you could have prevented it,” Cecil said, their voice interrupting his thoughts.

“You know it's possible.”

“But it didn’t happen that way. I’ll always have this wicked scar cracking me open.”

“That makes it sound so dramatic,” he said.

“When am I not dramatic?” Cecil asked, taking a sip of the caf and wrinkling their nose, “what does the Temple have against having good caf?”

“Everything apparently,” Obi-Wan said, taking a swig of his own and making a similar face.

Abruptly, Cecil’s comm crackled, “Master Palmarin, yousa needed inda council chambers.”

They sighed deeply before responding, “Yeah, I’ll be right down Jar Jar.”

“Roger roger,” his voice replied.

Not two seconds later Obi-Wan’s comm went off, “Master Kenobi, yousa also needed inda Council chambers.”

Cecil choked on the caf, attempting to stifle a giggle; only Jar Jar would be so bold to assume they were always together. Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up and the humor was clear in his voice when he replied, “Will do.”

“Whatsa so funny?” Jar Jar asked.

“Nothing, nothing,” Obi-Wan said, trying to hide his light hearted tone.

“Iffen yousa say so,” he replied, the line going silent.

“I guess they want something from me too,” Cecil said with a grin.

“The rumors circling are about an undercover-ish mission,” Obi-Wan started.

This time Cecil’s eyebrows shot up and Obi-Wan swore he felt a leap in their Force signature, “Do you think they’d really send us on another mission together after what happened last time?”

Obi-Wan frowned, “It was not our fault Ventress showed up. And every other time we’ve been on stuff together we’re literally unstoppable.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous,” Cecil laughed, “Anakin is finally rubbing off on you.”

He laughed too, a feeling of warmth spreading across his chest as their voices echoed across the otherwise empty rooftop, “I guess he is.”

“Good,” Cecil said and flashed a smile that Obi-Wan somehow felt was only meant for him.

---------------------------------------

Ch.3 - Preparations

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Anakin said looking around the council chamber with a disbelieving grin, “Those two? As a couple? No one is going to buy that.”

I felt my face go hot and my fingernails bit into my palm. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Obi-Wan shift in his seat and almost imperceptibly felt his Force signature change to match mine: a deep annoyance that well obscured the shock of excitement.

Padmé’s hologram glared at him, “Fortunately, no one asked you Anakin.”

This time it was Obi-Wan’s turn to hide his grin. Even Master Windu’s mouth twitched. I bit my lip but only wished that I’d been the one who said it.

“I only meant,” Anakin said quietly, “that everyone in the galaxy knows who they are. That they’re friendly with the Senator.”

“Yes,” Master Yoda said, “but young Skywalker. You everyone will expect to see. But suspect a regal and powerful warlord couple they will not.”

The look on Anakin’s face was priceless but he rearranged it so quickly that I doubt anyone but myself and Obi-Wan recognized it: a mix between awe and horror that Yoda would so blatantly hint at something more between the Senator and himself.

“If I may interject,” Obi-Wan said before Anakin had the chance to say anything he’d regret, “Anakin does have a point. Especially with all three of us, that combination is to be expected.”

Yoda nodded thoughtfully as if he had not already considered this at length.

“As well known as you think, Master Malmarin is not. Their job discreetly they do,” he said nodding to me, “and disguises you will have.”

“And that is where I come in,” Padmé said, “You’ll both be unrecognizable out of your Jedi robes. I’m arriving in Coruscant shortly and will get you all ready before we depart for Naboo.”

I raised my eyebrows, not even daring to ask what lavish outfits the former Queen of Naboo had stored away that would coincidentally be my size.

“And why does this meeting have to be on Naboo again?” Anakin interrupted again.

“To show them we trust them. Enough to invite them into my home,” Padmé explained, barely hiding her exasperated tone.

“But couldn’t we meet them in some neutral system where you and your family are not at so great of risk?

“It’s an olive branch, Anakin. Whether we like it or not, it is the best course of action to get this system on the side of the Republic,” Obi-Wan said, making far less effort than Padmé to hide his exasperated tone.

Yoda seemed to care little for this exchange, “Prepare Master Kenobi and Master Palmarin, Senator Amidala will. And to Naboo follow they will.”

Seeing it would do no good to argue, Anakin was content to frown and glare menacingly as the rest of the plan was laid out.

It was simple really. Obi-Wan and I in disguise. Anakin seemingly the only protection to the Senator in the midst of a potentially hostile environment. A dinner over which politics would be discussed. The guests to sleep in an elaborate lakeside villa. And on their way the next morning after another round of political discussions over a lavish meal. What could go wrong?

---------------------------------------

CH. 4 - Chemistry POSTED

When Padmé arrived on Coruscant I did my best to be late meeting her, purposely taking the long route to her landing pad. But I still had to pretend to not see Anakin’s speeder take off, pretend I did not see the flushed look of joy on Padmé’s face.

“Good evening Senator,” I said, shaking her hand, “I trust you’re well?”

“No need to stand on guard Cecil,” she said grinning “I’d like to think we’re friends by now.”

“Of course,” I laughed, “I just still feel like I should greet you with formality.”

“Well don’t feel that way. Especially when I’m about to make you stand around in your underwear for far longer than you’re comfortable in effort to find the perfect outfit for you.”

I frowned, having not considered this.

“Don’t worry,” she said, grabbing my arm and whispering conspiratorially, “I’ve sent Master Kenobi his own squadron of people to get him ready. It will just be you and my personal handmaidens.”

“I see,” I said, my frown deepening as I watched the handmaidens unload a multitude of elaborate trunks from her ship, all of them clearly full of clothing.

Arriving in her personal quarters, Padmé slammed the doors shut for effect and skipped ahead of me.

“Now,” she said, dramatically tossing her overcoat, “not only am I outfitting you, I’m helping you to prepare and embrace your role as a hopelessly in-love warlord couple who are so regal and stunning that no one would dare speak to them without a reason of utmost importance.”

I frowned crossing my arms across my chest, “I-”

“Nope!” she said cutting me off, “that’s step number one. No crossing your arms. You’re practically royalty for the next seventy-two hours. You have to stop carrying yourself like a Jedi.”

“But-”

“First lose the Jedi robes. And then we’ll work on the rest.”

“Padmé-”

She had crossed the room and began undoing my robes a little too expertly, ignoring my protests. Without the full weight of my Jedi robes I felt naked, not just in the sense of lacking clothing but that I could not remember a time without them.

“Here,” she said, handing me a small pile of clothes, “put this on. You’re a filthy rich warlord. No Jedi undergarments allowed. And when you’re done, I think you’ll like the first outfit on the top here,” she said, gesturing to one of the sprawling suitcases that seemed to be exploding clothing all over the room.

I nodded, turning away in an attempt at privacy. This made Padmé roll her eyes but she retreated from the room, leaving me momentarily alone.

Half dressed and struggling to right the deep purple garment that had been laid out for me, I struggled as one of Padmé’s handmaidens appeared. The woman was taller than Padmé if only by a fraction but eerily resembled the Senator. I knew she had a decoy but I was not aware they spent so much time together.

“Let me,” the woman said, her fingers reaching past mine to rearrange the fabric and close the final zipper.

She spun me around so I faced the mirror. Someone I did not recognize stared back.

They were tall and regal, their hair teased into its natural style creating a magnificent halo around their head. The jewelry Padmé had chosen glittered brightly as the handmaiden slipped it on the person in the mirror, their wrists adorned with heavy gold bangles and an equally impressive set of necklaces settled on their neck.

The outfit itself hugged the figure in the mirror tightly around the torso, the neckline covering far less than I had ever imagined showing. At the waist it flowed away from them in a way I was sure would fan when they walked and give the impression of having great violet wings. It was sleeveless, or what could pass as sleeveless save for the draping of fabric attached at each shoulder that cascaded down to meet the rest of the garment.

“I picked you something you could still fight in,” Padmé said reappearing, “I hope it’s not too much. If you don’t like it I have a couple other options.”

I stared at myself a second longer, “It’s beautiful Padmé,” I whispered, “I barely recognize myself.”

“That is exactly the intent darling Cecil. And you look absolutely jaw-dropping, I can’t wait until Obi-Wan sees you.

I felt my jaw drop but quickly snapped it shut.

“Dormé,” she said addressing her handmaiden, “Go fetch Obi-Wan will you? He should be ready by now.”

Dormé nodded curtly and disappeared from the room, leaving us alone together.

“Did you think my choice of Jedi I requested as protection was random Cecil?” Padmé all but whispered, “I’m not about to prod in your business, but you have chemistry. And I needed chemistry for this to work.”

I flushed. It had never occurred to me that someone else might have noticed the thing I’d been trying so hard to quiet within myself.

“Does anyone else know that?” I asked, my voice quiet and wavering.

“Of course not,” she said cheerily and patted my hand, “Only you. Because if I told Obi-Wan he’d simply combust of awkwardness.”

“I mean-”

Padmé looked at me steadily before striding out of the room, “Life is fleeting Cecil. Don’t miss out on something because of someone else’s rules you aren’t sure you believe in.”

I stood staring after her, my hands all the sudden shaking.

The door creaking open pulled me out of my momentary stupor, Obi-Wan’s figure emerging.

The attire Padmé had chosen for Obi-Wan was far less extravagant than my own, but so far from something Obi-Wan would choose himself that it disguised him well. It was a deep purple, almost black, but the satin shone brilliantly. Similar to my own, the outer layer cascaded down behind him, flowing in an invisible wind when he moved. Underneath was an even darker, yet still purple tunic and trousers. The tunic was of the same satin fabric that looked fit for royalty. Which is exactly what we were pretending to be, so I supposed it was intentional.

Even from the way he was walking I could tell Obi-Wan was deeply uncomfortable outside of his typical dress but the look suited him. It changed the energy he exuded, less Jedi Master, more warlord with enough money to drown in.

And he had shaved, the clean shaven face making him look younger, more like the way he looked when I had met nearly two decades ago. Nothing could erase his old soul though, the way smile lines gathered around his eyes just as they always had. As a teenager I’d remarked on them once and he had blushed as his hand went up to feel them. I think he knew I was telling him I loved the way he smiled because I remember that being the first time I really felt his presence in the Force bloom with happiness.

I shook my head, trying to displace the memory. It scattered only to be replaced with the real thing, Obi-Wan’s smile bringing me new confidence in my outfit.

“You look stunning darling,” Obi-Wan said, not even resisting adding the pet name.

“As do you,” I smiled, reaching up to adjust the satin collar of his shirt, “I’m glad you agreed to this particular outfit.”

He let me do so before catching my hand in his, bringing it to his lips and bowing low, “Only so that I don’t look like a peasant next to you.”

I felt heat rise in my cheeks and broke our eye contact with nervous laughter not knowing what to say.

Padmé did me the grace of clearing her throat and Obi-Wan dropped my hand, shooting me a wink. For a moment Padmé circled us observing, trying to decide if we would pass someone other than the Jedi we were.

“I think the mullet has to go,” she said suddenly to Obi-Wan.

“What!” he exclaimed, his hand flying to his hair.

“I think people know you too well for it. At least since the war. You already look much different without the beard, but I think a touchup to the hair will help.”

Obi-Wan frowned like she had personally offended him.

“Thank you Padmé. I have been begging him to let me cut it.”

“But I just now got it to fit into a hair-tie,” he started.

“You sound like Anakin,” Padmé laughed and I could tell she said it just to stop Obi-Wan from protesting anymore, “Go change out of these outfits both of you. I’ll have Dormé package them up for you. And a couple other outfits to lay low in.”

“Yes ma’am,” Obi-Wan said, saluting her.

Padmé laughed and swatted him on the shoulder, “Just go. And cut that mullet off.”

I saluted her as well, earning us another grin before she disappeared.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near my hair Cecil,” Obi-Wan said matter of factly.

“Okay,” I smiled, biting my lip, “I’ll take you to the best barber I know.”

Obi-Wan groaned but didn’t protest. I swore I caught a hint of a smile as he left the room.

---------------------------------------

Ch. 5- Varykino Villa

The looping hallways of Varykino Villa had sated my nervousness; I felt I was sinking into the place, the part I was playing becoming more and more real. Obi-Wan had taken my hand, holding it like it was the most normal thing in the galaxy. For a fleeting instant I could see us standing together in some other life, some version of ourselves that did not involve the Jedi Order and was just us living on some gorgeous planet where no one ever bothered us.

“You still with me?” Obi-Wan asked, squeezing my hand.

I shook my head, sending the images scurrying away, “Sure am. Let’s go husband.”

He leaned in so only I could hear, “Let’s go Mx. Kenobi.”

—

As the night wore on, I couldn't help but wonder why nothing had gone wrong. Nothing ever went this right. No one had even looked sideways at Padmé. No one had squinted at us in recognition. The political discussions were going swimmingly. And I was giddy with joy at getting to spend the evening hanging off Obi-Wan’s arm.

Anakin and Senator Amidala had long since disappeared and I was beginning to think that this was all a ploy to get Anakin on-planet where the two could excusably be alone together. Obi-Wan pretended not to notice their absence and I pretended not to notice the way he had averted his gaze every time he saw them. I imagined that he deliberately shoved away any memories of other times his former Padawan sat too close to the regal Senator or gave her too long of a hug.

Everything added up now. I’d always pretended not to notice the way Anakin’s presence in the Force burst with life anytime Padme was in the room, the way he never stopped looking at her, the way he had been so nervous to meet her again for the first time all those years ago. Even the image of little Anakin rose in my mind, the way Obi-Wan had told it, Anakin’s eyes took in Padme as if she were an angel coming to rescue him.

But tonight with the evidence staring me in the face, I came to the same conclusion that I suspected Obi-Wan had: as long as it never directly interfered with Anakin’s official duties, he could pretend it wasn’t happening before his eyes. Because they needed Anakin far more than the Jedi Council needed to know that Anakin had fallen in love with the Senator.

As the evening progressed, Naboo’s sunset faded, only one moon reflecting onto the lake now, the guests slowly vanishing into Varykino Villa’s many rooms. Only the occasional wanderer in search of a midnight snack appeared, but scurried away upon catching sight of the two sharing a plate of food on the grand balcony overlooking the lake.

At least that was my impression of the one child who wandered into the room behind us and all but ran away when we turned to look.

“I’d turn and run too if I saw you backlit by moonlight and glowing so ethereally,” Obi-Wan said without looking at me.

I felt a blush rise on my cheeks, “Ah yes, because I am oh so angelic with my hair in desperate need of taming and a good night’s sleep.”

I didn’t look at him either. It felt safer to tease him without looking for risk he’d see right through me, for fear that he would sense that I wanted him to continue, to tell me everything about how he thought I was angelic in his eyes.

Obi-Wan set down the glass of wine he had been nursing, the dark red substance glittering in the twinkling light of the moon, “Cecil, you’re always angelic.”

I mentally berated myself for the shot of joy the words gave me, the warm flame of affection I’d been snuffing out making a new attempt to surface. An involuntary shiver passed through me and I thought about how Naboo’s summer was cool this year, uncharacteristically so according to Padme. But after the earlier rainstorm, the clouds had vanished and left the outlook onto the lake clear. With our backs to one of the intricately carved pillars of the balcony we were almost touching, our arms balancing careful millimeters away from each other.

“Are you cold?” he asked after a second when I did not respond.

“No. Just tired.”

“Let’s go to bed then. We still have a long breakfast full of more politics tomorrow.”

I nodded and accepted his hand as I stood up and we made our way back to our rooms.

With my hand in Obi-Wan’s, my head was swimming. Neither of us had consumed anything alcoholic but it felt like I was somewhere else, not in the moment anymore, like a memory surfacing so clearly I could feel it. A moment seemingly outside of time, a dream.

We were on some planet in a far off system, no one recognized us. The planet’s summer weather was just beginning and it was one of those evenings where a careful coolness sets in after the sun sets. The balcony doors of our room opened onto the countryside sprawled out below to meet the nearby town. And save for the birds, we were alone.

“Can you undo this? It’s stuck in a knot,” Obi-Wan complained, flopping dramatically into a chair.

I turned from beginning to unbutton my own clothes to look at him, shaking my head, “you know, I really had thought you’d know how to at least undo a tie if not tie it up.”

Obi-Wan frowned, “I think the issue is that I did it wrong and now it won’t come untangled,” he said, gesturing to the now wrinkled and disheveled garment.

I rolled my eyes but crossed the room to where he sat, standing in front of him just close enough to slip my fingers underneath, working it loose from the knot he’d managed to wrestle it into. Chin tilted up to allow me to untangle it, I could feel his eyes steadily searching my face but I stubbornly refused to meet his gaze, focusing intently on the issue at hand.

“You’re right,” I said, “there is no way this was correct in the first place.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice flying up an octave, “Just because I can’t tie a tie doesn’t mean I’m not a gentleman.”

After a moment the garment came free and fell into my hands. Obi-Wan did not stop looking at me and I suddenly felt it was very obvious that I was refusing to meet his gaze. Instead of meeting his eyes, I handed him the tie and lifted my hands again to straighten his collar.

Even though I wasn’t meeting his eyes I could feel his smile; it reached out to me through his Force signature. And Obi-Wan was doing nothing to conceal the affection in it.

He seemed to sense the moment I realized this, like he was waiting for me to see it, waiting for me to realize that right here on this planet in the middle of nowhere he was holding nothing back.

“Cecil,” he said, not whispering, but sure, confident that everything he was doing was alright, permissible even.

“Cecil, will you look at me?” he asked finally, standing and lifting a hand to gently grip my chin. Meeting his gaze I found the soft blue sea that I so desperately wanted to get lost in. As I did so, that seemed to bring him to a decision, his presence in the Force suddenly softening, a wall that I hadn’t known he’d been holding suddenly no longer there. The bright warmth of his presence felt like the first day of sunshine after a cold winter, something I could never replicate elsewhere. He’d brought down this wall before, but only just enough to peak past. Now I could see everything.

As he stood, I let my hands trail down his neck and slowly fall onto his chest.

“Can I kiss you now?” he said, whispering this time, like asking too loudly would scare me away.

I nodded, almost imperceptible, also pushing assurance of my consent at him in my Force signature, assurance that despite my rare desire to kiss someone, right now I wanted to. To kiss him.

He breathed out and closed the small distance between us, one hand reaching up to cradle my head, the other twining around my waist, pulling me to him. As with every other thing he did, he was gentle, every fiber of his being exuding a soft but vibrant joy.

I was first to pull away, suddenly so breathless the room had started to spin. Obi-Wan’s hands were light, barely touching.

“Are you okay?,” he whispered.

I swallowed, resting my forehead against his, “More than okay.”

My breath was ragged and I knew he could feel my fingers shaking. This was something I'd never experienced before. Wanting more. I’d never wanted more. Not ever.

Obi-Wan seemed to notice the fluttering of my pulse and visibly leaned back, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” I paused my voice unsteady, “Obi-Wan, I’m sorry, I don’t think I want to-”

“Don’t apologize for anything,” he said, his voice firm, “there is nothing to apologize for. I will never expect anything from you.”

“But I-”

He softly placed a finger on my lips, “I think you and I have very similar approaches to uh- things like this.” He gestured between us before gripping my hands firmly, “I want you to know that.”

“Oh,” I whispered. I tuned in to his Force signature hoping I’d find a better explanation there.

His presence in the Force was warm, welcoming, but tainted with nervous anxiety. But the hint of fear wasn’t because he knew the Order would never allow affection like this. It wasn’t because he was truly nervous about kissing me. The feeling bleeding through the Force was something else entirely.

He was afraid that I wouldn’t be okay with just this. And nothing more. He was afraid that I would want more from him, that I wouldn’t be okay with just this.

“Oh,” I whispered again and I could tell he was letting me see a part of him no one ever saw. At my feeling of acceptance in the Force he pushed something more; another hesitation, a feeling that he wasn’t even sure what he wanted, that he had never had the opportunity to find out what he wanted.

“Oh,” I repeated for a third time, beginning to feel that I needed to respond to this soul-baring moment with something more than a single syllable.

—

“Just stay,” I thought as we climbed into bed, clad in our fancy silk pajamas, “stay right here and let me fall asleep next to you just once,” letting the thought bleed into the Force. Maybe the words were not there but the feeling was, the intense desire to be close to him. Just like this, wrapped in cozy blankets and content to be beside each other.

The look on his face changed and he relaxed, sinking back into the bed. He lifted his arm, reaching around me to pull me close. I sucked in a breath but did not resist, letting him gather me to his side, all but falling into his lap.

“Is this okay,” Obi-Wan said, freezing for a moment, his life Force fluttering with uncharacteristic uncertainty.

Now with my head nestled into the crook of his neck I had to pull away to look up at him, finding his eyes filled with emotion as he looked down at me. For a second I couldn’t breath, his eyes, the smile lines, the little strand of hair falling into his face at this exact moment- it was everything I saw every day but right now it was only for me to look at.

“Yes of course.”

—

Obi-Wan watched Cecil carefully, the slight rise and fall of their side, the way a lock of hair fluttered softly every time they breathed out. As he imagined was the case with most Jedi, they looked younger while asleep. His final thought before drifting into sleep was that he couldn’t wait to wake up next to them; it was something he knew he could get used to.

---------------------------------------

Ch. 6 - Reassurances

Outside, rain came down in huge droplets. But the roar of Naboo’s sudden downpour was barely audible over the hundreds of voices conversing merrily, the din almost masking the music. In the midst of it all no one paid Obi-Wan and I any notice, the two of us holding the room under observation, watching for any potential harm to Senator Amidala.

Some time ago he had taken my hand in his own and to any onlooker we looked like any other couple present. All evening I’d been watching the other couples, mimicking their behavior, watching the way they mirrored their partners, the shorter ones beginning to lean their heads on the shoulders of the taller ones as the night wore on. I followed suit, leaning into Obi-Wan’s frame-

“Master Palmarin,” Commander Cody’s voice said suddenly, “can you weigh in on this?”

I jolted out of the memory and back into reality. The whole table was staring at me, the Jedi Council’s holographic images flickering faintly, the smirk on Anakin’s face poorly hidden. The war room lights of Obi-Wan’s Star Destroyer were suddenly too bright, their fluorescent humming loud in my ears.

“Sorry, what?”

“Commander Cody was just asking if you thought the warlords from the Naboo meeting could be pushed for more definite support?” Anakin interjected, “Unless you have something more important on your mind you’d care to share?”

I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him as I answered, very intently not looking at Obi-Wan either. He sat at the head of the table, carefully observing everything being said, his face stoic, voice always calm and steady. He gave no indication that he was distracted.

As for me, I couldn’t stop replaying every moment of Naboo in my head. It had been a week since we had left and we had barely spoken. The silence was loud, loud enough to gnaw anxiety into my heart. Loud enough to make my stomach twist in knots. Loud enough to let me hear the imaginary whisper that said he didn’t mean anything he’d said and that he regretted it at all.

I turned the thought over and over in my head. By the time the meeting concluded, I had convinced myself we had broken our friendship and that everything was over between us.

“Well,” Anakin said slamming his hands down on the table as soon as the holocomms shut off, “Snips and I have shit to do-”

“Language Anakin,” Obi-Wan warned.

“We’ve got shit to do Master” Ahsoka repeated, a wicked grin on her face as she stood with Anakin.

“You two are hopeless,” Obi-Wan said and crossed his arms. I laughed and he sent me a half-hearted glare that shot a jolt through me.

“But you love us, don’t ya?” Anakin said.

“Unfortunately yes,” Obi-Wan laughed, “Now scram, get off my ship.”

“Yes sir,” Anakin grinned, mock saluting his former Master.

“We’re scramming, Master,” Ahsoka giggled as she followed Anakin out.

I couldn’t help but smile after them, adoring the way the three acted like family. Even Cody had a smile on his face when he stood to leave. He only nodded in farewell, ever the perfect soldier returning to his post.

As soon as his footsteps faded Obi-Wan’s fingers flicked over the controls before him, closing the bridge’s doors and opening the blast shields. The swath of empty space stared back at me, stars twinkling, daring me to wish upon them.

“Cecil, you’re so anxious I can hear your heart beating across the room,” Obi-Wan said, nearing me.

I still didn’t look at him, the thoughts I’d been chasing all week roaring in my head. He leaned against the table, very close but not touching.

“I- I’m just thinking.”

“About…?” he prompted and I could feel his Force signature probing mine.

“We’ve barely talked all week. Do you regret something you told me on Naboo? Or the kiss? Or what the Council would say? Or-” I spluttered, all my questions rushing out before I could stop them.

“Oh darling,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice soft. He leaned down to press a kiss to my forehead before squatting before me so his eyes were level with mine, “I should have just said it before. You shouldn’t have to guess.”

“Guess what?” I said, my voice shaky.

“That I love you. I always have. From the moment we met, even if I wasn’t aware of it, you were always tangled in my soul.”

I sighed in relief, a sound that came out as a sob, “Me too. I mean- I thought it was just me-”

“Certainly not,” Obi-Wan said as his hand came up to wipe the tears that were trying to form.

“I always have. And I didn’t know it. Even with our Force bond-” I said, my voice still wavering.

Obi-Wan laughed, and drew away to stand where he could hold my hands in his, “You know - maybe you don’t know - but our Force bond, our dyad, it’s stronger than mine with Anakin. Stronger than the one with my own Padawan.”

“Oh,” I laughed, suddenly very self conscious.

“So don’t doubt for a minute that I love you Cecil Palmarin,” he whispered as he pulled me from my seat.

“I won’t. Only if you don’t doubt me either,” I said, my lips smiling into his.

“Wouldn’t think of it darling,” he breathed as he captured my mouth with his.

I leaned into the kiss, my hands finding their way into his hair. His fingers ghosted along my torso before drawing me closer, pulling me against him. He broke away first, but only so he could kiss down my jaw, his lips straying to my neck, the sensation sending involuntary shivers through me. Abruptly his nose poked my face and I giggled. Once I started I couldn’t stop and my laughter echoed through the room.

Obi-Wan kept a hand cradling my face as he pulled away, his smile-lines crinkling in the way I loved so dearly.

“Are you really that ticklish?” he asked, his Force signature warm.

“No,” I beamed, “I just can’t believe I’m kissing you in the War Room of your Star Destroyer.”

Obi-Wan chuckled and leaned in so our lips were nearly touching “Well it is my Star Destroyer.”

I laughed too, “If you say so, General Kenobi.”

He rolled his eyes, “I do indeed say so, General Palmarin.”

“And what would people say if they were to check the security footage of your Star Destroyer? And see two of their Generals making out?” I asked, still so close to him that I’d barely have to move to touch my lips to his.

He grinned, “I’m sure they’d just be mad that Anakin was right.”

I pulled away from him in surprise and tried to keep the annoyance out of my tone, “Oh really?”

“Don’t worry. He only berates me about you in private. Not even in front of Ahsoka.”

“And how long has he ‘been berating you about me?’” I quoted back.

He blushed and he averted his eyes, “Since the moment he met you.”

It was my turn to blush. “That long?”

“Well sort of. He did ask if the two of us were something more as a kid. But then he didn’t bring it up again until- until much later.

“And by much later you mean…?”

Obi-Wan cringed and took a small step away from me, a flash of something that must have been guilt passing through the Force.

“Remember when I had to fake my death-”

I felt a surge of annoyance, “How could I forget?”

“After that, after it was all over-”

“Don’t think I ever really forgave you for that-” I said, poking his chest.

“Yeah well, that’s what I mean. After that, Anakin was livid. And not just because he’s Anakin. Because he saw what it did to you.”

Obi-Wan had paused and seemed to lose himself in a memory, “And then last year, when we almost lost you to Ventress- he saw what that did to me.”

“And then he wouldn’t let it go,” I said matter-a-factly.

“So much so that he tried to stop us from pretending to be a couple for the Naboo mission because he was afraid that it would become obvious to everyone else too,” Obi-Wan chuckled.

I shook my head and smiled before I pulled him back toward me, “That really doesn’t add up-”

“Well, it’s what he thinks.”

“Let him, or anyone, think whatever they want,” I whispered before kissing him again.

If I could have stayed in that moment forever, I would have. But eventually he pecked the corner of my mouth and pulled away.

“I could kiss you all day, but I fear we have duties to attend to,” he said.

I closed the distance between us once more, kissing him a moment longer, melting into him.

“I fear the same,” I whispered when I pulled away.

“Most importantly, deleting the security footage,” Obi-Wan said, his voice tinged with regret.

I smoothed his hair from his face, arranging it so it wouldn’t look like he’d been making out with someone, “unfortunately, you're right.”

“And you know that what we talked about at that meeting means I won’t see you for ages,” Obi-Wan said, but made no move to retract himself from my embrace.

“It’s probably for the best,” I whispered and averted my eyes.

Obi-Wan seemed to mull it over as he searched my face. It would be good for us to be away from each other after all that had transpired. We couldn’t let our focus be compromised by each other any more than it already was. And we certainly couldn't allow rumors about two Jedi Masters falling in love.

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Ch. 7 - Pep-Talks

It was months after our kiss in the War-Room and every time I could find an excuse to visit The Negotiator and its General I gladly repeated the practice. Frankly, I’d only visited twice because I had my own fleet to run, but it kept me on my toes, just knowing that Obi-Wan would be there if I went to visit. It was never more than stolen kisses and whispered adorations but I found I didn’t want more. Not now, maybe not ever.

“Do you remember when they first told you that you’d be a general in this war?” Obi-Wan asked.

I was curled up in his lap where we sat on the floor with our backs to the bridge and looking out into the vastness of space.

“I do. Vividly. It was right here in this room,” I said, not wanting to recall the memory.

“I only ask because I want you to know that what you felt then, for once in your life you were wrong. You are a wonderful General.”

I craned my head to look up at him, “And you know that I would have refused to do it if it hadn’t been for you.”

He glanced down at me, “What do you mean?”

“You gave me this whole pep-talk. About how I was one of the most accomplished Jedi of the age and if anyone was prepared to lead an army, it was me.”

“And it was true. Still is,” he smiled.

“And you gave me this hug,” I started, “it made me feel like it would all be okay.”

“Because it was going to be,” Obi-Wan sighed, placing a kiss on my head.

“And,” I paused, not sure how to get the words out but knowing I was ready to say them, “that’s when I knew I loved you.”

I paused because Obi-Wan had pulled away so he could see me, hands still grasping mine but now sitting cross legged.

“But especially in this war,” I continued, feeling cruel that I’d make this confession of love but litter it with my war philosophy, “it would have been excusable for us to fall in love. The whole world has gone to shit and even if we win, it would never have been the same. Too much has changed. The Jedi order will be reorganized. I just wish we’d known it then.”

Obi-Wan looked like he didn’t know what to say, “How are you so sure?”

“I can feel it,” I said, surprised, “Can you not?”

Obi-Wan frowned and I continued, “Something has shifted. Too much is different now, even the Force feels different. Maybe it’s just that the Dark side has gained too much power, but we can never go back to those ancient traditions if we hope to retain anything of the Jedi.

Obi-Wan drew back further, staring intently, “Those are dangerous words Cecil Palmarin.”

I rolled my eyes, “I know. That’s why I haven’t said them out loud before. But whatever happens, it won’t be the same.”

Obi-Wan didn’t respond but I could tell he was weighing my words, his Force presence full of conflict and apprehension.

“But we don’t have to worry about that yet,” I said, reaching up to soothe his hair away from his face; in the last couple months it had started to get long again.

“What worries me Cecil, is that you are always right,” Obi-Wan mused.

“No I’m not-”

“About the things that matter, you tend to be. You have excellent intuition. And I just don’t know if I’m ready to confront that reality.”

“You can’t live in the confines of the Jedi Order’s reality forever.”

“Couldn’t I? That is the call of the Jedi, is it not?”

“Not anymore,” I whispered.

“But-”

“And you know far better than I, Obi-Wan, it’s not about the Jedi. It’s about the Force. You could live without the Jedi. But not the Force. That’s the life we will always be tied to.”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan said, his eyes focusing on something far away. I could feel him contemplating again, mind working over what I said. A pang of anxiety hit me in knowing how much value he placed in my opinion - and that with this knowledge I would so willingly shatter the little shard of hope that was left for returning to the time before.

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Part 2 (Chapters 8-13)

#obi wan kenobi x original character #obi wan x oc #obi wan kenobi x oc #canon asexual character #obi wan kenobi #original character #gender neutral reader #gender neutral original character #the force ships it #jedi as found family #star wars fic #slow burn #bittersweet ending #obi wan kenobi fic #star wars #n's notebook

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hereticpriest · 2 months

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Masterlist

MDNI

Series

Mercy

Rating: Explicit 18+

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

To begin with, some warnings about this story: A/B/O Dynamics, Female Alpha, Male Omega, Some chapters may involve messing with the whole 'alphas are always dom and omegas are always sub' because I think nuance exists even in A/B/O dynamics, Fucking with the timeline (this is a blend of Canon, Legends, and original lore), Minimal use of Y/N (Explained in the first chapter), Reader is an alien species of my own creation and thus has a physical description, Familial bonds explored heavily, Clone rights explored heavily, Violence is more graphic than canon-typical however any graphic descriptions will be noted, AFAB reader, Not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes.

Read on AO3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Nine Point Five - Part Ten -

Miniseries

The Typist - Laszlo Kreizler and his bitey wife

Bite - Laszlo Kreizler x reader ft odaxelagnia

Chew - Laszlo Kreizler x reader ft odaxelagnia, prequel to Bite

Swallow - Laszlo Kreizler x reader ft odaxelagnia, prequel to Bite and sequel to Chew

Oneshots

The Bath - Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader ft cockwarming

Pyrrhic - Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader ft 14k of HYDRA being the worst and Helmut Zemo being a consent king

Ctrl and Power - Ernst Schmidt x Reader ft rough sex and secret relationships

Sriracha - Dirk Brûlée x single mom!reader ft sex toys/sybian

Muse - Niki Lauda x photographer!reader ft soft femdom and bondage and breeding

What Happens in Ibiza - Nikia Lauda x photographer!reader x James Hunt ft threesomes, double penetration and anal

Requests and Prompts

Reader likes to come up behind Zemo and kiss or bite him

Roman Sionis fucking reader in his club and being a show off about it (and also he's a total switch)

Roman Sionis making female reader cockwarm him during a gang meeting

Obi-Wan Kenobi noticing female reader's tattoos after sex and pausing to enjoy them

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x oc #obi-wan kenobi x original character #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #my writing #requests and prompts #masterlist #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis #black mask x reader #dirk brûlée x reader

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thegreatwicked · 1 month

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Unbreakable Bonds: Chapter Eleven

Hello friends! This chapter is long overdue but to be honest this story was in a tricky spot and yet again, I wanted to make sure this chapter was given the attention it deserved! I know the story is a bit sad right now but I promise things are looking up for these crazy kids! Thanks for your continued support and readership!

Unbreakable Bonds

A novella in the ‘How it Should Have Ended’ Universe.

TheGreatWicked

Summary: In a galaxy where Anakin Skywalker successfully resisted the pull of darkness, fulfilling his destiny as the Chosen One to bring balance to the Force, the Jedi Temple is abuzz with discussions about the traditionally forbidden nature of attachments. As Anakin assumes the role of a Jedi Master, his decision to ensure Palpatine's arrest rather than execution sets the tone for a new era.

On the way to an impromptu council meeting, where Anakin now holds a seat as a respected master, Obi-Wan Kenobi experiences an unusual sensation. A mysterious connection tugs at him when he encounters a young boy patiently waiting outside the council chambers. Unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, the spotlight is about to shift from Anakin to himself.

As the secrets of Obi-Wan's past unravel, the Jedi Council finds itself thrust into action much sooner than anticipated. The delicate balance of the Force, once maintained by Anakin's choices, now hinges on the unforeseen revelations from Obi-Wan's history. The galaxy is on the brink of change, and the consequences of long-held secrets may reshape the destiny of the Jedi and the Force itself.

Pairing: Obi-wan/OFC (Cressida Vox)

Rating: Explicit, depictions of violence and sexual encounters between consenting adults.

Chapter Eleven

Something was different. As the remnants of sleep faded further she became acutely aware of the plush cocoon of blankets swaddled around her. The fabric's gentle touch caressed her skin, in a comforting embrace that lulled her deeper into tranquility.

Safe.

That was how she felt when the first rays of sunlight streamed through the window, casting a golden strip across Cressida's closed eyes, making sleeping in later an impossibility. And whereas she used to greet the day with a minor grumble and a desire to send her timepiece flying into the wall, she found it was oddly silent. In fact, she wasn’t tired, true she was comfortable and cozy, and getting up wasn’t something she wanted to do but she didn’t crave more sleep like she usually did.

She rolled over, into the sunlight which was now spilling across her entire face, a sleepy smile playing on her lips as she stretched out her limbs, savoring the sensation of being well-rested for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Then confusion took hold.

This morning, there was no chill seeping through the hard ground beneath her; instead, she found herself nestled snugly within her bed, wrapped in blankets that enveloped her with a tenderness akin to a lover's embrace.

It struck her as profoundly odd, to find such comfort in the soft give of a mattress, after a decade of sleeping on solid ground. The subtle plushness of a mattress, even one as firm as the Jedi Temple provided, made it impossible for her to find proper rest. It felt too soft, too unfamiliar, leaving her strangely unsettled by the comfort it offered.

There were far stranger things than waking up in a bed and being well rested, but it was still downright strange for Cressida, given her years of accustomed slumber on the hard ground. Inherently she wanted to temper her skepticism with optimism and gratuity as for the first time in a long time her sleep was uninterrupted by the specter of nightmares, she was well-rested and for once felt completely ready to greet the day, but she would still have her cup of caf, of course.

Had she maybe crawled into the bed in her sleep? It seemed unlikely, though not improbable, that maybe she was finally growing accustomed to being back at the temple and finally feeling safe enough to let her guard down. She rolled away from the sunlight to look at the timepiece, curious as to just how long she could stay in this comfortable loaf of blankets, but her eyes widened in shock at the sight before her– she wasn't alone.

There, lying peacefully beside her, was none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His usually tidy hair was mussed from the pillow's embrace, the morning light casting a more ginger hue over the sandy strands. In sleep, the lines of strain that often furrowed his brow were smoothed away, revealing an unguarded handsomeness, completely free from the burdens of stress and responsibility that weighed heavily on him while awake.

With no one to catch her staring, she allowed herself to stare a little longer at the sleeping Jedi Master, the way his bare chest rose and fell with each steady breath; a picture of pure tranquility. He was close enough to touch and every bit as beautiful to look at in sleep as he was when he was awake. She nearly reached out to touch him. Maybe just push his hair out of his eyes, as it was getting a bit longer, he’d probably be cutting it soon. Shame, the longer length of hair looked good on him.

Her gaze lingered on his long, thick eyelashes – a feature envied by many, not just her, but one she was grateful their son, Solan, had inherited. As an infant, it had been difficult to tell who Solan favored, as she had no idea what she looked like as a child. But as he grew older, it became clear that he was taking after his father and the thought made her smile. If her son continued to resemble his father he’d become a very handsome young man, no doubt following in his father’s footsteps of leaving broken hearts across the galaxy.

Her smile faded when she was a breath away from stroking the warmth of his cheek, it felt so real.

The momentary warmth that bloomed within her at the sight, withered as quickly as it came and her fingers recoiled. Sorrow seeped into the hollow space it left behind, as she realized that this was nothing more than a dream.

She didn’t crawl into her own bed last night any more than Obi-Wan had, and he wasn’t really there sleeping beside her.

As she lay on the too-soft mattress, misery swelled inside her, and she turned away, seeking refuge from her heartache. Even in sleep, she couldn't escape it. With a resigned sigh, she braced herself for the inevitable awakening. The bed would be empty and cold, and she would find herself stiff and a bit sore, just as she had been for the last ten years, still exhausted and still on the floor.

And even worse than the physical discomfort, she would return to the strained coexistence she shared with the father of her son. Hating every moment of it. Hating herself.

Despair hung heavy around her, like a palpable shroud that rippled through the air, touching everything in its path. Reaching beyond, until Obi-Wan's arm found its way around her waist, drawing her back against the solid plane of his chest. His breath danced warmly on her skin, as he gently nuzzled into the back of her neck, stirring strands of her auburn hair with each exhale.

"Good morning, darling,"

She remained still and silent, his voice and the affection in it only making her experience more painful. She stayed stiff in his arms, tightly squeezing her eyes shut to prevent any tears from escaping.

"Are you planning to avoid me here too?" he asked softly when she remained silent.

Her silence stretched for a moment before she replied, "Avoidance implies intention, Obi-Wan. One can’t avoid what's not real."

He chuckled softly, the sound melodious and comforting. "You're the only Jedi I know who wouldn't take advantage of a pleasant dream, my dear." he teased, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Such a wet blanket, you are."

She breathed deeply, committing his scent, and his warmth, to memory.

Obi-Wan's voice, sleep-roughened but playful, teased her. "Are you truly so entrenched with your own sorrow that you won’t allow yourself to enjoy this while you can?"

“This is a dream,”

“Then there’s no harm in a little bit of indulgence, is there?” His fingers danced a lighthearted path up her arm, it was so soft it almost tickled and Cressida hated being tickled. But she couldn’t bring herself to move. "Is it such a bad dream, this one? Worse than the ones where you wake up screaming?"

“No,” She replied quietly, her voice sounding so fragile.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“You’ve never called me ‘darling’ before.”

“Is that it?” He chuckled again, “Well, perhaps that’s true, but you want me to.” His hand stroked the length of her arm, a tender touch that felt profoundly real. “After all, this is your dream, not mine, darling.” His lips gently brushed against her skin, sending tingles down her spine. "You know, I believe I've figured out why you've been sleeping poorly," he said after a momentary pause. "You're resting where you shouldn't be. I'm in my bed, and you're on the floor. One of us is undoubtedly in the wrong place."

"Always the clever one," she remarked, unable to keep the scoff out of her voice before finally turning her head to look at him, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite herself.

When she pinched his arm, he raised an eyebrow questioningly as if wondering why she would do that.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, my dear, but I believe you’re supposed to pinch yourself if you wish to wake up.” He suggested with a grin, gently pinching her arm in return, which she, of course, didn’t feel. “Seems to me like you don't really want to leave this place."

It was true, painfully so.

“I’m not sure what’s worse, the reality that’s waiting for me when I wake up or this,” Her voice was soft as her fingers lightly grazed against his, while he continued to gently stroke her arm.

"Reality can be shaped by will, my love," he countered, pressing another more firm kiss to her neck. "If you truly desire this, all you need to do is pursue it," he responded, his grip around her a little more secure, his voice tender and affectionate, it was lovely but it wasn’t right.

“You make it sound so simple,”

Her words seemed to roll off him like water off a pelikki’s back, his expression remaining unphased. In fact, he wore a sly smirk and his hand reached up to gently caress her cheek, repositioning her in his embrace so that she faced him directly. His eyes were still heavy with sleep but still held an inviting warmth and tenderness towards her.

“And you think in such two-dimensional terms,”

He gently tilted her chin upwards, his warm hand cradling her jaw as he drew her closer. His lips met hers in a deep, all-consuming kiss. With a teasing flick of his tongue, he deepened the kiss and her heart began to race in her chest. Every nerve electrified by his touch, so close to the real thing.

"Imagine," he murmured softly, releasing her mouth from his. "This is how we wake up every day, safely wrapped in each other's arms." He paused, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Though preferably with fewer clothes." She smirked softly, feeling the vibrations of his words against her skin. For a man who was all propriety and rules and discipline, it was easy to forget that he had something of a naughty sense of humor.

"No blasted timepieces to rouse us from sleep, only the sunlight of noon or Solan telling us he's hungry for waffles. The three of us exploring the galaxy together as a family, our attachments making us stronger, not weaker. Training our son to be the Jedi he's meant to be, as the Force deems, no pesky High Council to shake their heads disapprovingly at us, or tell us what we’re feeling is wrong or dangerous."

Her smirk turned to a smile, her heart swelling at the thought. Obi-Wan had never boasted any particularly artistic abilities, but the portrait he was creating was undoubtedly breathtaking.

"And our nights..." he trailed off, tilting his head down to nuzzle his nose against hers. "Our nights are filled with staying up late, entwined in passionate love-making until we can no longer keep our eyes open, blissfully drained of all energy. And yet, every day it starts all over again."

She let her fingers intertwine with his, feeling the rough calluses on his palm and fingers born of years of lightsaber use. She observed him with fascination wishing all her dreams could be as peaceful as this moment. A somber smile formed on her lips.

“Growing stronger, as a family,” His hand cradling her hip, his lips leaving a trail of fire along her jaw and up to her ear. “Perhaps, we might even add to it,” She turned her head sharply, expecting to see a playful smirk but finding only honest sincerity in his gaze.

"Can you see it?" Obi-Wan whispered between gentle kisses.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing and she did a double take. Was he actually serious? He couldn’t be. She felt foolish even considering the thoughts as being his in the first place, knowing that this was all just a dream concocted by her own mind to ease her loneliness. But as Obi-wan had suggested; what was the harm in a little dream-like indulgence?

"It does sound nice,"

"Nice? Darling, it could be ours," His voice was dripping with longing and desire as he spoke, his hand moving to gently caress her stomach. His thumb traced over faint lines that were barely visible that she often covered up, she instinctively reached to cover the perceived vulnerability, but Obi-Wan’s hands encased her own in a firm grasp.

“Now, now, none of that.” His possessive tone sent shivers down her spine as his lips grazed her knuckles. "I missed so much of Solan's life.” His voice was filled with remorse and longing. “I never got to see your body swell with my child, never held him as a newborn, heard his first words, or watched him take his first steps. But it can be different this time. And Solan wants brothers and sisters, you know."

“How could you possibly know that?" she asked, curiosity piqued.

Obi-Wan’s smile widened.

"I've seen the way he looks at other younglings, and he told me so himself," he confessed. "And I promise you, this time, I'll be by your side for every single one of them, supporting you and loving you as a true partner should."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes blinking in surprise. Did she hear him correctly?

"Every single one?" She repeated, trying to control the warmth spreading through her chest. She looked down, pretending not to notice the blush creeping up her cheeks. "Just how many children are you expecting in this imagined scenario?"

"As many as the Force sees fit," he answered mischievously, his playful side finally breaking through and wrapping around her like the blankets they lay under.

Her mind began spinning with visions of a life entwined with Obi-Wan and their children. Children. Plural. She could see them under the golden hue of the setting sun, filled with laughter and unrestrained love. Solan, with eyes sparkling with pride, demonstrated his growing mastery of the Force, while his younger siblings gazed up at him in wonder.

Obi-Wan's presence and determination slowly chipped away at the walls she had built around herself. He spoke of a future where they could share the weight of their burdens and she could finally let go of the loneliness she had carried for so long. He promised to care for her deeply with every fiber of his being.

Yet, one last shred of resistance remained.

"It’s not that simple, I need to protect you," She whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes downcast to avoid his gaze.

"Protect me from what, darling?"

"From me," she replied, her voice barely audible.

He laughed, a sound not mocking but filled with gentle understanding, and then his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that spoke volumes, asserting that his attachment to her was irrevocable.

"Obi-Wan," she breathed, her voice cracking with emotion. "I-"

She tried to continue, to tell him how perfectly serious she was being and maybe scold him, but her words were cut off by more passionate kisses from him. Each one deeper than the last, and to further prove his point and silence any protest, he rolled them over, pinning her beneath him. Her words were muffled against his lips.

The words rolled off his tongue in a low, rumbling murmur as he reluctantly pulled their lips apart.

It was clear he was hesitant to end the kiss.

"My dear, it is far too late for that realization. My heart has been hopelessly entwined with yours since the first moment I saw your face in the council chamber. And when I learned of our son, you became my fate." His warm breath mingled with hers as he spoke, the crackle of electricity still pulsing between them.

She had been about to bring up the Jedi Order's strict stance on attachments, but before she could even form the words, he stopped her with another soul-scorching kiss. The heat of his touch branded her skin and the power of their connection seemed to surge through them both.

"The Force is not the Jedi Order; it has no owner,” he said solemnly, his hand gently caressing her cheek. “It is not bound by any rules. It has existed since time immemorial and will continue to exist long after the Jedi are dust and less than memories." He paused, a seriousness settling over him.

The idea of leaving the Order was both thrilling and terrifying to her, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

"Never again will you walk alone," he vowed. "No more running. I'll protect you, always."

It seemed such a big thing, too big a decision to let him make and she shook her head in uncertainty.

“Cress,” he whispered gently with a soft touch, brushing away a strand of hair from her face as he stroked her cheek. “I see how tired you are, and I know you've carried far too much alone for too long.” Her eyes welled up with tears, unable to resist the truth in his words and she tried to look away but she couldn’t.

“I know about the nightmares and the sickness, and I know why they plague you. It's time for you to let someone take care of you."

She blinked back a tear. "And that someone is you?"

"Absolutely," Obi-Wan declared with unwavering conviction. "It's my duty to take care of you now, and I swear I'll protect you and treat you like my queen if you'll only let me."

She hesitated, torn between the dreamlike world he painted and the reality they lived in.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this was insane. But in this moment, as his arms enveloped her and she felt the comforting warmth of his body, the idea of a life together consumed her. And though it was going to hurt later, she allowed herself to indulge in the dream, savoring every second of it.

What was the harm in enjoying a dream, if only a little bit?

The wounds from her time in the healing chambers may have healed physically, but nothing could ease the ache in her heart like these stolen moments with him. His lips were so close to hers that she could feel their gentle warmth, and all she had to do was lean in to make contact. So she did.

Without hesitation, she met his lips with her own, losing herself in his kisses that grew more passionate by the second

"Let's pretend," he whispered breathlessly between kisses, his touch tracing a delicate path along her collarbone. "Just for now... let's pretend that this is ours," his voice thick and husky with emotion.

“That nothing exists outside this room, it’s been far too long since I’ve touched you, darling,”

Drawing her closer, he captured her lips in another kiss, and as their mouths melded together, all thoughts of the outside world faded away and she gave in, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in each other's arms.

Her longing for him, built up over countless nights of loneliness, surged within her and drowned out any remaining doubts. With an urgency she couldn't contain, she pulled him closer, desperate to fill the void that had grown insatiable in the ten years since she last felt his touch.

"See?" Obi-Wan murmured, his breath mingling with hers as their kisses grew more frantic and hurried. "We deserve this, Cressida. A moment of peace amidst the chaos we've faced."

Cressida nodded silently in agreement. His voice was a soothing balm to her, and she could listen to him speak for hours, but right now she had other plans for his quick-witted mouth.

"Just until my timepiece wakes me." She breathed against his lips before kissing him again, teasingly licking at his mouth.

"That's all I ask, darling," Obi-Wan replied, his smile evident in his voice.

Her hands traveled up his chest and tangled in his tousled hair, gently pulling at the locks she remembered he enjoyed, he’d positively melted at the sensation. She felt his approval reverberate through his body in a low moan, the hum of satisfaction warming her from the inside out.

Memories of the last time she had felt him unravel at her touch surged forward, emboldening her to take more from this dream-like moment and fully indulge in its pleasures, savoring each sensation as if it were a rare delicacy.

"Was that so difficult?" he teased with a playful smirk. The warmth of his hand cradling her jaw sent shivers down her spine as his lips left hers and planted kisses along her neck.

Every touch sent a flurry of sparks through her body, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment and hungry kiss.

But then something changed.

The hand that had been caressing her jaw gently, suddenly clamped down on her neck with a vicious hold, cutting off her oxygen supply. A blackness crept over him like a shroud, shadowy tendrils wrapped around him obscuring his handsome face until he became an unrecognizable mass of darkness and malice. Her breathing became labored, each gasp a desperate struggle for air. Panic surged through her body as she gasped for air, each breath a frantic struggle against the tightening grip.

She was unable to take a breath, let alone speak. Her words trapped in her throat, and all that came out was a garbled response.

She clawed at his hand, trying to pry it away, but he only squeezed harder, sending sharp waves of pain through her throat. No longer recognizable, he was consumed by the darkness, a vessel for its insidious influence. Her heart clenched with impending doom, a crushing weight bearing down on her as she fought for every precious breath and she grew weaker.

Just as suddenly as it had come, the pressure on her neck vanished and she was left gasping and choking in the darkness. Clutching her neck and coughing, her head whipped around searching for him, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Obi-Wan?" Her raspy voice echoed into the endless void, but there was no response.

The warmth of the bed was replaced with a chilling emptiness, and the sunlight that once filled the room had faded to a distant memory. She was alone and vulnerable in this pitch-black world. Where had he gone? What had happened?

But there were no answers—only a suffocating darkness that threatened to consume her completely.

The eerie emptiness swallowed the warmth of the dream, leaving Cressida adrift in an endless void.

"Obi-Wan!" Her voice quavered, reaching out into the abyss for the man who had been by her side moments before. She fought against the panic in her heart. That wasn’t her Obi-Wan, it was something else. He was here somewhere, she had to find him.

A distorted echo of his voice responded, but she couldn’t understand his words, only the fear in his voice. The chilling sound sent shivers down her spine, her skin prickling with goosebumps. Desperate to find him, she stumbled through the nightmare landscape until she kicked something, she looked down to see her lightsaber at her feet. She breathed a sigh of relief and ignited the blade, feeling a bit more secure in its radiant orange glow.

"It's just a dream," she repeated, her voice trembling as she clung to the reassurance that none of it was real. "Only a dream." She could control this dream, she was the master of her subconscious.

"Obi-Wan!" she called out, her desperation evident as she sought the familiar presence that could anchor her amidst the chaos. "Where are you?"

In the nightmare's depths, she scanned the shadowy expanse, but there was no sign of Obi-Wan.

"Obi-Wan!" she cried again, her voice tinged with desperation. Each breath formed icy clouds in the cold air, dissipating into nothingness.

A sudden movement caught her eye, and she turned slipping into the Guard pose of form three, Soresu, to face a spectral figure emerging from the shadows. Her blood went cold in her veins. It bore the likeness of her Master, Deva L'rue, his eyes ablaze with an otherworldly intensity that accused and condemned her without a single word spoken. Cressida recoiled in horror, unable to tear her gaze away from the haunting visage before her.

“Master?" she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.

She reached out tentatively with her senses, trying to determine if this was just another trick of her mind or a genuine message from beyond. She felt small once more, like the terrified padawan she had been all those years ago.

The phantom's form began to shift and warp, changing shape until it resembled Obi-Wan himself, but his eyes continued to burn with that same corrupted stare – a dark shadow of the man she cared for.

“It’s not real," Cressida muttered, shaking her head and taking a step back.

The menacing voice of the twisted apparition echoed through the darkness.

"Oh, but I am, Cressida, and you've led me here, to the darkness, just as you led your master."

He drew his lightsaber and ignited a red blade, adopting a stance she knew anywhere; form seven – Juyo. The same form her master had favored.

Phantom Stance.

Obi-Wan sank into a crouched position, resembling a feral beast more than a man; his lightsaber held high, poised for a strike, while the other hand was raised in a claw-like gesture toward Cressida as if beckoning her into the darkness.

"Tell me, darling," he sneered, venom dripping from the word 'darling', "Will you murder me too?"

As her heart pounded in her chest, Cressida gripped her lightsaber tightly, her body coiled with tension as she assumed Ataru's Gale Strike Pose. Her feet planted firmly, one leg slightly forward, and her lightsaber held high above her head, poised for a swift and aggressive strike.

With a guttural snarl, Obi-Wan lunged forward and their blades clashed in a whirlwind of searing hatred and fear. The crimson and burnt orange light danced around them, their weapons moved too fast for the eye to track, creating an otherworldly aura of fury and despair.

Obi-Wan's skills were unparalleled, parrying her strikes with alarming ease, he wielded this dark form of combat with a prowess that seemed to mock his serene mastery of Soresu. His eyes blazed with an intensity that deviated starkly from the calm focus usually associated with his fighting style. Every aggressive strike of his current form was somehow taunting the disciplined and centered approach he typically embraced.

Every strike of her blade against his felt weak and fragile, each movement she made felt slower and less effective than his. As if she didn’t have the decade of experience as a battle-proven sentinel, nor the skill to match it. Panic began to gnaw at her as she struggled to understand why she couldn't gain the upper hand, why this battle felt eerily familiar in a way that sent shivers down her spine.

It was as if some unseen force guided their movements, leading them down a path of destruction that they couldn't deviate from. Every strike felt preordained and filled her with dread and a sense of deja vu as if she had fought this battle before in another life.

Because she had.

A terrible feeling of foreboding crept up her spine

Her instincts screamed at her to end this nightmare, but she was powerless to stop it, she couldn’t lower her blade, couldn’t disarm him, couldn’t even allow him to strike her down. As though someone else was controlling her actions like a horrific marionette, she could offer no deviation. Trapped by the shadows of the past.

In an instant, their movements stilled, and the world around them froze.

Time seemed to grind to a halt as Obi-Wan loomed over Cressida, his lightsaber poised to strike. Every second stretched out in agonizing detail, etching itself into her mind with razor-sharp clarity.

With a surge of adrenaline, Cressida lunged forward, her senses heightened to an almost painful degree.

In a deafening cacophony, the sound of her lightsaber sizzling and then reigniting reverberated through the chamber, drowning out all other noise. The once pure and harmonic hum had twisted into a menacing growl, mirroring the corrupted state of Obi-Wan's blade.

The unmistakable scent of burning kyber crystals filled the air, assaulting her senses with an acrid tang. It was as if the very fabric of the Force recoiled in agony at the clash of their lightsabers, the tortured cries of the crystals reverberating through the chamber.

The metallic stench of blood flooded her senses, overpowering all other senses until it was the only thing she could taste. There should have been no smell of blood, lightsabers cauterized wounds in an instant, burning hotter than the surface of suns and stars. And yet, there she was, surrounded by the coppery scent of death.

At best it should have been the smell of burning flesh but that too was horrific sensory input.

She looked down in horror at the glowing blade protruding from Obi-Wan's chest, his once vibrant blue eyes now dull and lifeless. His lightsaber clattered to the ground and he slumped to his knees before falling back with a dull horrible thud.

Waves of guilt and despair crashed over her as she trembled uncontrollably, memories flooding back of a similar scene long ago.

"Obi-Wan, no," she begged, her voice cracking with desperation. “Not again,”

The invisible force that held sway over her movements released her from its grip finally allowing her lightsaber to fall from her grasp. And a deafening tinnitus screamed in her ears, piercing through her skull like shards of broken glass, growing louder and more shrill until it was almost unbearable. She fell to her knees, hands pressed tightly over her ears as the relentless ringing threatened to shatter her eardrums. Even her screams were drowned out by the agony of the never-ending sound.

Suddenly, she jolted to wakefulness with a waterlogged scream.

Her body thrashed and flailed, violently in the bacta tank's healing waters, desperate to escape the torturous nightmare that had gripped her mind.

The tank now felt like a watery prison, determined to hold her captive within her mind.

And although the respirator provided her oxygen beneath the waters, in her panic it felt like she couldn’t breathe with it on and she clawed at the mask attached to her face, ripping it free in a frenzy as she broke the surface of the tank.

Gasping for air, she clambered out frantically, landing with a thud on the hard floor, convulsing and heaving as if trying to expel the memory from her being. Retching violently, the once peaceful Halls of Healing now echoing with her screams and cries for mercy.

—

Obi-Wan sat across from his son, observing him with a sort of morbid fascination as he devoured his breakfast. The boy's enthusiasm for the stack of waffles before him was reminiscent of a snake unhinging its jaw to accommodate larger prey. In contrast, Obi-Wan's meal was far simpler: Tythonian yogurt and honey, a bowl of fruit, spiced eggs, and a steaming cup of sapir tea.

Solan shoveled another absurdly large forkful of waffles into his mouth with no signs of slowing and Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder if his master, Qui-Gon, had ever regarded a young Obi-Wan with similar awe and slight horror. His once steaming breakfast was quickly growing cold, forgotten in the face of this bizarrely captivating sight.

"What?" Solan mumbled through a mouthful of waffles, catching Obi-Wan's gaze.

"Nothing," Obi-Wan replied, shaking his head with a small smile. He took a sip of his sapir tea, savoring its calming warmth. The foul mood that had greeted him upon waking was long gone, replaced by a sense of wonder and curiosity at the sight of his son, seated alone in the refectory.

He could feel the weight of their connection, both through blood and through the Force. Solan's blue and gray eyes, mirroring his parents, held an inquisitiveness that reminded him so much of himself at that age. The boy was eager to learn, ready to further his Jedi training, yet Obi-Wan sensed an underlying awareness of the implications of his heritage.

Obi-Wan's eyes flickered around the refectory, noting the empty chairs and half-eaten meals on the tables. The murmur of quiet conversations filled the air, but there was an undercurrent of tension that seemed to thrum through the room, as though a storm was brewing just beyond the walls. He turned his attention back to Solan, who remained oblivious to it all.

"Solan, you never said where your mother was. Do you think she’ll be joining us soon?"

Obi-Wan asked, not missing the way Solan's eyes darted away from his for a few moments, avoiding the question. Taking a bite of his eggs and chewing thoughtfully and slowly, Obi-Wan studied his son, trying to read the emotions that danced across the boy's expressive face.

"She went to the halls of healing late last night," Solan finally admitted, his voice barely audible over the din of the room.

Obi-Wan paused, a bite of eggs halfway to his mouth but the pause was brief, and he quickly finished the gesture. A shadow of uncertainty clouded his eyes as he looked up at Obi-Wan, clearly unsure if he should be sharing this information. It came as no surprise to Obi-Wan that his son offered up the answer so reluctantly; Solan carried his own wealth of secrets, and at times the psychological burden of such made him physically shrink. This was one of those times.

Obi-Wan chose his next words very carefully, he could see the worry in Solan’s eyes, and he didn’t want to give Solan any reason to feel as though he shared what was meant to be kept secret. He considered reaching out with the Force, trying to sense any disturbances or hidden truths in Solan's mind, but thought it too invasive.

"Is she not feeling well?" Obi-Wan pressed gently, trying to mask his concern with curiosity.

Solan hesitated, picking at the remnants of his waffles and looking down to avoid his father's gaze and Obi-Wan recognized the subtle tug-of-war within Solan – the desire to share what was happening with his mother, but also the fear of betraying her trust.

He could sense the weight of this information pressing down on Solan's young shoulders. Obi-Wan's heart tightened as he observed Solan's downcast eyes, the boy's small hands clenching and unclenching in his lap.

“I’m not sure,” Uncertainty colored his words and his eyes darted around the room before finally settling back on his father.

Obi-Wan understood he was holding a tool in his hands far more powerful than any lightsaber, the ability to ease his sons fears. With a sip of his tea and a nod of his head, he smiled softly. The warmth of the tea spread through him, granting him a momentary sense of calm. He tried to project this serenity onto Solan, knowing how important it was to keep his son's trust.

"Well, it's coming upon that time of year; colds and illness tend to spike a bit with the changing of seasons, and your mother's been off-world for some time. It could be that she's getting used to it again." He gave a soft chuckle, “It does tend to kick one in the backside though,”

Solan's eyes widened in surprise, the green pools reflecting the overhead lights as he looked up from his tea, its surface rippling with each tiny movement. "Really?" he asked.

"Oh yes," Obi-Wan replied, allowing himself a small smile as he watched the petals dance around his son. "The halls of healing will be a busy place soon, younglings, padawans, knights, and even masters tend to come down with a little something, I wouldn't worry though. But you'd do best to watch your own health as well, Solan, if you feel unwell, we need to make sure you're well-rested."

“A tired mind doesn’t learn,” Obi-Wan said gently, brushing away the unease coiling inside him. "I'm sure your mother will be fine."

He watched Solan's expression soften, the lines of tension easing from his brow. Relief flooded Obi-Wan, knowing that he had reassured his son, even if only for a moment. His concerns remained, however, burrowed deep within his thoughts, like a shadowy whisper he couldn't quite silence.

Why was she in the Halls of Healing?

"Did she say anything else before she left?" Obi-Wan probed, hoping to glean more information without pushing Solan too far. “Maybe any symptoms she was experiencing?”

Solan shook his head, his gaze skittering away once more. "N-no, just that she needed to go."

He hoped the words would bring comfort, and they appeared to as Solan offered a weak smile but a seemingly genuine one. The kind of smile given when the worry remains but the doubt is gone and he picked up his fork again.

But it was all a lie.

Obi-Wan didn’t like the way falsehoods tasted in his mouth - he had always prided himself on honesty, as any Jedi would. But at times a little misdirection to allay greater fears was the better option. Yes, the seasons were changing but not in any way that saw colds and illnesses the way Obi-Wan had described. There were an abundance of allergies, and casualties of the pollen in the air, and as someone who was often afflicted, Obi-Wan knew the difference all too well.

He glanced at Solan, who was staring down at his plate, breaking off another smaller bite of waffles. The morning light filtering through the windows cast a gentle glow on his son's face, emphasizing the resemblance to his own features. He knew Solan was hiding something about Cressida's condition, but pressing for more information would only make the boy withdraw further.

He had to be smart about this and form a strategy. So he opted for a change of subject that would ease Solan’s mind.

"Let’s talk about your training, are you ready to continue?"

“Are we going back to the archives?” Solan's eyes lit up with excitement, the topic of training after two days of rest did the job rather splendidly.

“Not yet, Solan, we need to discuss what happened.”

Solan's voracious appetite diminished almost instantly, and he paused, a hint of uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he swallowed his food. Despite his youthful optimism, there was a noticeable change in his demeanor, a subtle acknowledgment of the seriousness of the situation.

"Am I in trouble?"

Before Obi-Wan could answer with a thought-out response, a delicate hand found its way into Solan’s hair, ruffling it playfully.

“Why? Did you do something or did you simply get caught?”

Cressida appeared giving them both a warm smile, a steaming cup of caf cradled in her other hand, as she took a seat next to Obi-Wan as though she had been right behind them the whole time.

With her arrival came a wave of pure relief, Solan smiled and fixed his hair, notably parting it back the way it had been which seemed to mirror how Obi-Wan styled his. Making Solan look like a smaller cleaner cleaner-shaven Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan too felt relief but it was short-lived as his keen eye began to take notice of small things, the tips of her hair were slightly damp, her olive pallor was a bit diffused giving her a slightly paler countenance and the almost indiscernible scent of bacta clung to her. He’d spent more than his fair share of time inside the damn tanks and he personally hated them, he didn’t like how trapped he felt, nor did he like the sterile smell, especially after the Clone Wars.

"Curiosity is no sin, Solan," she said softly, her voice carrying an underlying note of exhaustion. "But your father is right, we need to talk about what happened."

Her words seemed steadfast and certain, but there was a frailty to how she looked. His mind raced, trying to connect the dots between her appearance and the overwhelming sense of dread he'd experienced earlier that morning. The sudden chill he’d felt, had been all-encompassing like a bucket of icey water had been dumped on his and he’d felt every hair on his body standing on end.

Something was wrong, and it felt like it was lurking just beneath the surface, ready to emerge when least expected.

"Mom, are you okay?" Solan asked. “Dad said you might be getting sick from the change of seasons, are you feeling better?”

She didn’t miss a beat and nodded, “Well, your father would certainly know, and yes, it seems being back on world has finally caught up with me.” Cressida offered a weak smile. "I’m fine, just a little tired. Now, let's talk about your training, sounds like your father has quite the morning planned."

As they discussed Solan's progress and areas for improvement, Obi-Wan couldn't shake the feeling that they were dancing around a hidden truth. His instincts screamed at him to delve deeper, but it would have to wait until later, he made a mental note to investigate the matter.

"Solan, there’s someone I- your mother, and I want you to meet.” He corrected himself, remembering how this was meant to be a unified decision between them despite the disparity they felt. “There's a Jedi Master who shares your ability to touch objects and read their histories," Obi-Wan explained, noting the shift in Solan's expression from worry to wonder.

"Really?" Solan's eyes widened in amazement until Cressida gently nudged his open mouth closed, again. "I thought no one else could do it."

Obi-Wan chuckled and shook his head, “Not at all, psychometry is indeed a rare skill and few Jedi have the aptitude for it, but I know of one who does. His name is Quinlan Voss and I’ve known him for many years.”

Solan’s waffles sat forgotten and he blinked in disbelief and awe. “Now? When can I meet him? Can I meet him today? Is he here?” His questions came off as rapid fire and he began to practically vibrate in his seat.

“He’s currently off-world but he will be back in two cycles. I've reached out to him and asked for some of his time, he’s agreed to meet with us, all of us. That we might better be able to help understand and help you in learning to master your ability.”

Solan nodded, not to a question but merely as an excited gesture, his appetite returned to full force and he began shoveling waffles back into his mouth.

“Until then we’ll work on your training and when we all have a better understanding of how to help you, then we’ll return to the archives.”

"If we're not going to the archives, then what’re we doing today?"

"How about some lightsaber training?" Solan's excitement radiated boundlessly as he bounced in his seat.

"Really!" Solan exclaimed eagerly.

Obi-Wan nodded, "And some meditation of course,”

"I think I'm ready to try the shielding exercise again," Solan declared confidently, earning a surprised smile from Obi-Wan.

"That's wonderful. Your enthusiasm is commendable, if you feel ready we will try it again." Obi-Wan praised, his satisfaction evident. "After our training, your mother has something planned, doesn't she?”

“Since your father seems to have the more physical aspect of training for the day, I think we’ll focus on force sensitivity and control as well as a discussion on ethics and morality and maybe we’ll talk about the Jedi Initiate Trials and what that entails of, they’re a few months away. I think if you focus, we could see you ready to take the trials this year.”

Her goals were lofty and Solan looked a bit worried and overwhelmed but Obiwan seemed pleased and he also seemed to agree with her assessment.

“Your mother’s right, if we focus and you tackle your training there’s no stopping you. A master could be right around the corner for you, and maybe a padawan braid along with it.”

With the vote of confidence from his parents and the mention of a braid possibly in his near future, he nodded and sat a little straighter before taking a large bite of his waffles.

"Solan, as delicious as those waffles may be, there's no need to make a spectacle of it," Cressida gently scolded, reaching to cover his mouth with a napkin. "You eat like your father," She remarked with a smile, and Solan grinned back, his face adorned with a crumb-filled smile.

"Meaning what, exactly?" Obi-Wan quipped a hint of indignation in his gaze, he looked to Solan who was stifling a laugh, and then back to Cressida. "If you mean a healthy appetite, then yes, it appears he takes after me,"

"Hollow leg and all,"

However, as she smirked and sipped her caf, it dawned on him that she was teasing him. The subtle curve of her lips betrayed her amusement, catching him off guard, especially considering their previous encounters. He was relieved to see it and a bit of the worry he was carrying slipped from his shoulders.

"Mom, aren’t you hungry?”

The relief he'd just felt vanished, replaced by a renewed heaviness in his chest.

She shook off Solan's concern with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'll eat later," she assured them, a subtle resignation creeping into her voice, leaving Obi-Wan unsettled.

His eyes darted between them, catching the tension in Cressida's stance and her reluctance to look at him, in fact, she hadn’t really looked at him at all. Yet, it struck him that she wasn't even looking at Solan either.

Carefully tracking her line of sight, he had a strong hunch she was staring at a nondescript spot on the opposite wall, her expression vacant, as if only half there, hiding something.

The tension from their earlier talk resurfaced, and he felt disappointed to suspect her initial playfulness might have just been a trick to divert Solan's attention. Yet, Obi-Wan stayed quiet, sensing it wasn't the right time for a confrontation. Luckily, Solan seemed oblivious to the subtle tension, happily focused on his breakfast. Although Obi-Wan wished to address the underlying issue, he couldn't quite figure out how to bridge the gap.

She glanced back at him, giving a brief nod that seemed almost rehearsed, her emotional walls still firmly in place. It puzzled him, like trying to solve an unsolvable riddle. Despite the tension between them, she appeared outwardly composed. Never had he felt so bewildered by a relationship. She wasn't his wife, nor were they involved romantically, though they once had been very intimately connected—she was the mother of his son. His mind raced with questions. What did he expect from her? A warm smile, a hug, maybe even a kiss?

Despite the invisible divide between them, it amazed him how quickly he had grown accustomed to enjoying their presence, how effortless it felt. Guiding Solan with a hand on his shoulder felt natural, as did sitting beside Cressida, whether as a partner or a parental figure. Uncertain of his own desires, he simply wished to understand Cressida's thoughts about him, whether there was something more between them—romantic or not. Or if there ever could be.

Those thoughts were vexing, everything about his relationship with Cressida was. He turned back to his tea, it was growing cold.

—

Obi-Wan handed Solan a training saber, then took a few steps away putting a distance of maybe two meters between them, igniting his own lightsaber, its weight was vastly different compared to a proper lightsaber though it still emitted a soft glow that cast shadows across the room. Solan hesitated for a moment, his fingers tracing the hilt of the saber before he looked up at Obi-Wan.

"Are you going to ignite your saber, Solan?" Obi-Wan asked, curiously.

Solan shook his head. "No, Master.”

“Why not?”

There was a genuine confusion in his question. Solan had been so excited to train with lightsabers, had he somehow misread his son?

“There's no need for it. A lightsaber should only be drawn when de-escalation, retreat, or negotiation isn't an option," he replied calmly, catching Obi-Wan by surprise with the eloquent and diplomatic answer.

He nodded in agreement, impressed by Solan's understanding of the importance of exhausting all other alternatives before embracing combat.

"Very well said, Solan," Obi-Wan commended. "You have a keen grasp of the Jedi way."

Solan smiled modestly, but then Obi-Wan stepped towards him and Solan retreated the same distance.

“But, noble as your logic is, I still have a weapon drawn on you and there is nowhere for you to run to, what will you do now?”

“Is negotiation not an option?” Obi-Wan chuckled heartily at his son.

“I’m afraid not, my boy. And I won’t be swayed away from combat either, what will you do now?”

Solan heaved out a breath and ignited the training blade, slipping into the Guard pose of form three; Soresu. His blade held horizontally across his body, parallel to the ground, weight balanced on his back right foot. Obi-Wan smiled at the familiar pose and Solan’s impeccable posture.

"Now, let's begin with lightsaber forms," Obi-Wan continued, readying himself for the training. He raised his training saber in preparation to strike. "Why form three, Solan?" Obi-Wan inquired, observing Solan's stance with interest and a bit of pride.

Solan met Obi-Wan's gaze, his expression determined.

"I need to be defensive, Master. I don't know what form you're using, and I don't know my opponent. Form three allows me to adapt quickly and defend against any attack," he explained confidently, his words laced with tactical insight.

"Impressive, Solan. Your tactical thinking will serve you well in your Jedi training." Obi-Wan nods approvingly, a sense of pride swelling within him. “Tell me, by what other name is form three known by?”

“The Way of the Mynock. It was developed in the Old Republic in response to the growing use of blasters by Sith and enemies of the Jedi, by Jedi Master Cin Drallig during the Jedi Order's study of lightsaber combat.”

Solan's in-depth and concise answer was surprising and Obi-Wan nodded approvingly, he took another step toward Solan. The hum of lightsabers filled the room as Obi-Wan's lightsaber clashed against Solan's in an overhead parry.

Sensing Solan's struggle as he attempted to maintain his defensive block, Obi-Wan advised, "You can't maintain a block forever, Solan. Eventually, you'll need to counter or find another way to defend yourself."

Solan considered Obi-Wan's words carefully, realizing the truth in his father’s advice. With a quick nod and a subtle shift in his position, Solan disengaged from the block with a push and took several steps back, creating distance between himself and Obi-Wan.

“A tactical retreat? Very well,” Obi-Wan watched Solan's movement with keen interest, noting the shift in forms. "Form four or five, Solan?" he mused aloud, recognizing the deliberate choice to create distance. “Aggression or balance?”

Solan gave a coy little shrug and a smirk.

"Why the switch from form three, Solan? Form three was working well for you. You had a solid defense." Obi-Wan inquired, curiosity evident in his tone.

Solan met Obi-Wan's gaze, determination shining in his eyes. "I know you're a master of form three, Master Obi-Wan. I didn't want you to predict my next move," Solan explained calmly, his words reflecting a practical mindset beyond his years.

Obi-Wan nodded in acknowledgment, impressed by Solan's strategic thinking. "Your logic is sound, Solan. But be mindful—constantly switching forms can be tiring and may appear unfocused to your opponent," he advised.

“That would be their mistake,” Solan replied, bringing a smile to Obi-Wan’s face, Solan slipped back into a defensive posture.

Obi-Wan offers a small smile of approval. "Indeed it would be, Solan," he agrees. "But you must also remember that victory in combat often requires a balance between defense and offense. Sometimes, you need to seize the initiative and take the fight to your opponent."

Obi-Wan raised his blade and lunged to strike.

—

In a chamber of the Northwestern Tower, Cressida stood surrounded by holographic displays, each revealing a different aspect of Anakin Skywalker's life. Her deft fingers navigated the many displays, allowing her to pull focus, pause, or zoom in on any particular bit of information at any time.

From the dusty plains of Tatooine where Master Qui-Gon Jinn first discovered him, to the recent HoloNet broadcast of his somewhat scandalous marriage to Senator Padmé Amidala, no detail escaped her scrutiny.

Anakin's mysterious birth and the absence of any biological father shrouded in mystery, yet underscored by Qui-Gon Jinn's steadfast belief in the prophecy of the Chosen One.

Medical reports detailed his remarkable midichlorian count, sparking speculation and debate among the Jedi. His history unfolded as a tale of resilience, intertwined with the story of his enslavement alongside his mother, Shmi, and her tragic fate. Details of his family on Tatooine provided insight into his past. Records also highlighted Qui-Gon Jinn's involvement until his death on Naboo, at the hands of the re-emerging Sith. Obi-Wan Kenobi's pivotal role as Anakin's mentor, including archival footage of his impassioned plea to the council to honor Qui-Gon's dying wish, and the Jedi High Council's decision to allow Skywalker's Jedi training.

After becoming a knight, reports detailed General Skywalker's achievements in the Clone Wars. His bravery in battle made his name famous, but there were also controversial moments, such as his execution of Count Dooku. His relationship with his former Padawan, Ahsoka Tano, was rocky, from her trial and expulsion to her eventual exoneration and departure. Despite the fact, he had been vocal in his belief in her innocence. Skywalker's appointment to the Jedi High Council by Chancellor Palpatine raised eyebrows, and there was controversy when he was denied the rank of Jedi Master. However, his recent arrest of Senator Palpatine led to him finally being promoted to Master.

She’d read over it all many times, yet despite the work ahead of her and the vast amount of information available at her fingertips, her thoughts on her investigation stagnated and her mind wandered elsewhere. Her encounter with Yoda after she’d left Solan and Obi-Wan to train was still fresh in her mind, and it had left her pondering the extent of his knowledge regarding her personal situation. Yoda's ability to discern more than he let on didn't surprise her; he had always seemed to possess insights beyond the obvious. But it did worry her, she’d thought she was guarding her secrets well, yet after their discussion on the way to the Tower of First Knowledge, she was doubting herself as Yoda's words echoed in her thoughts, each line carrying a weight that she couldn't shake.

"Strength from burdens can be gained, yes. But weariness, they also bring. And weariness over time, erodes strength, it does."

"All Jedi are your family, including Obi-Wan. Do not forget."

"Over you, tiredness hangs, and only caf for breakfast, no breakfast at all is. Closely, the smell of bacta follows you. Neglecting one's well-being in favor of stubbornness, it does not do well."

Her contemplations were interrupted by the mechanical hiss of the heavy blast doors opening, for a brief moment the barrier that sequestered her from the rest of the Tower waivered announcing the intrusion into her solitude. Noxella’s shadowy figure seamlessly melded into the room's dimly lit corners. A practiced nod acknowledged her presence, unfazed by Noxella's otherworldly entrances; they had become routine. Yet, this was different. A solemn aura clung to Noxella, the uncharacteristic shift in her demeanor unsettled Cressida. It was as if the usually detached figure had been touched by an unfamiliar sorrow, casting an unexpected shadow over the chamber and stirring unease.

"Cressida," Noxella greeted quietly wearing a soft smile that looked so unnaturally forced, her hands clasped behind her back.

Cressida's apprehensive smile faltered at the sight of Noxella's unusual expression. It wasn’t to say that Noxella was often the bearer of bad news but rather if she was smiling in any capacity, it was usually to cushion the incoming blow.

"Noxella, what brings you here?"

"I have news," Noxella replied, her tone grave. "About Obi-Wan."

Cressida's interest piqued at the mention of Obi-Wan, "What news? Is he alright?"

Noxella paused for a moment, steeling herself before delivering her message. "You were aware of Obi-Wan's formal request to be briefed on your off-world mission, were you not?"

A glimmer of hope ignited within Cressida's heart. "I was. Did the council reach a decision?"

The darkness in Noxella's expression told a story all its own. "Yes, but the council's decision requires unanimity.” Noxella hesitated before delivering the crushing blow. “And I regret to inform you that it wasn't achieved."

Her hope plummeted like a falling star, replaced by a sense of disappointment and frustration.

“So, they denied his request?"

Noxella nodded solemnly, her eyes betraying her own disappointment in the council's decision. "I'm afraid so."

"I see," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. With a wave of her hand over the holo displays all traces of the investigation went black and the room darkened briefly before the lights shifted the illumination to a more acceptable lever.

Noxella's gaze softened, her expression sympathetic. "It wasn't my decision, you must know that," she reassured, her tone tinged with regret. "I share your belief that Obi-Wan deserves to know everything."

Despite her disappointment, Cressida nodded, her resolve unyielding. "I trust in the council's judgment, even if I don't understand it," she admitted, a hint of resignation in her voice. "Thank you for informing me, Noxella."

The news delivered, though it could have been communicated over a com, there was no reason for Noxella to remain, yet she didn’t leave, she took a step closer standing opposite Cressida. Her expression softened, her concern deepening

"How is your investigation proceeding?"

Cressida exhaled wearily, her posture drooping as she pondered the inquiry. "I've thoroughly reviewed all available information, and although there have been a few minor missteps, there's no evidence to indicate that Anakin Skywalker was aware of Palpatine's ulterior motives. Considering recent developments, his connection to the Force appears stronger than ever, and he remains steadfastly aligned with the light side. Anakin Skywalker poses no danger, in my estimation."

Noxella's brow furrowed in concern, "But you suspect Palpatine did have plans for him?" she asked, seeking clarification.

Cressida's nod was solemn, her demeanor grave. "Indeed, strategically speaking, Anakin would have been a prime candidate for an apprentice," she began, her tone measured. "His midichlorian count, the highest ever documented, coupled with his remarkable achievements at such a young age, would have undoubtedly caught Palpatine's attention." She paused, her expression thoughtful. "It's likely that Palpatine would have manipulated circumstances to lure Anakin, putting his friends, allies, and loved ones at risk. While the immediate threat has subsided, it's imperative that we remain vigilant, keeping a close watch on anyone in Master Skywalker's circle for any signs of danger."

Noxella's relief was palpable, though tempered by lingering worry. "I see," she murmured, her tone thoughtful.

Curiosity flickered in Cressida's eyes as she observed her friend's reaction. "Is something wrong, Noxella?" she inquired, sensing there was more to her mentor’s unease.

Noxella hesitated, "Extended stays in the bacta can cause one to lose their appetite," she began carefully, her words measured. “You look a little thin,”

Cressida looked weak and apprehensive, but didn’t bother to hide it, hiding things from Noxella would go over about as well as hiding things from Yoda. They simply couldn’t be done. Cressida's discomfort was palpable as she shifted uneasily in her seat, her gaze dropping to the floor.

With a gentle yet probing tone, Noxella ventured, "Another nightmare?" Cressida's response was a terse nod. “They are growing worse, aren’t they?”

This time Cressida didn’t answer, maybe too afraid of what she might say.

Noxella regarded her with a mix of concern and hesitation. "It’s been my greatest desire to protect you from the time you came into my mentorship as a teen girl after the loss of your master, as such I've been hesitant to send you off-world since your return," she admitted, her voice soft but firm. "I am well aware of the pressures you are under."

Cressida's brows furrowed in confusion, her mind racing to piece together Noxella's concern. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.

"I worry that sitting here, surrounded by holos, may be doing more harm than good." Noxella's expression softened, her concern evident in her gaze. "And with each nightmare, every dip into the bacta’s waters I realize that perhaps my concern for your well-being, is in fact, hampering it," she admitted gently. "But, perhaps it's time for a change of scenery, a new focus now that it seems your investigation is running its course."

"An assignment?" Interest sparked in Cressida's gaze, a faint curiosity that rose like the first star at twilight, her guarded demeanor relaxing ever so slightly.

Noxella nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. "Yes," she confirmed. "Low risk, just information gathering. And you wouldn't be alone; you'd have a partner. No thrilling heroics, I’m afraid."

Cressida's lips parted, then closed, as if she weighed her words against the weeks of isolation and convalescence that had become her world. Then, with a lift of her chin that echoed the lineage of countless warriors before her, she met Noxella's gaze squarely.

"I'm ready."

—

Solan had started mimicking his father’s mannerisms not long after the nature of their relationship became known to him, both his parents had seen it and at first, Obi-wan wasn’t sure what to think of it but it quickly became a source of amusement for him. It was quite entertaining to see a ten-year-old boy stroking his chin in the same absent-minded way that Obi-Wan often did when lost in thought.

He even had Obi-Wan’s controlled and graceful gait nailed as well; confidently, head held high, shoulders back, hand clasped behind him, taking slow measured strides, though admittedly Solan had to keep to a quicker gait due to his father’s longer legs. He looked very much like a much smaller Obi-Wan, minus the facial hair.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but be flattered by this imitation; after all, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

It reminded him of his days as a young Jedi Knight, trying so hard to mimic the perfect poise and stoicism of the Jedi Masters whom he looked up to and admired. But ultimately found himself carrying himself more like his late master, Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon, who had very much so, always moved to the beat of his own drum.

But even that too felt a bit forced, and eventually, he developed his own unique way of carrying himself, which his son more often than not mimicked.

Solan wore a wide grin on his face that outshone even the brightest stars in the galaxy as they strolled through the halls after their busy morning of lightsaber instruction, a meditation session, and finishing off their time with a shared afternoon meal.

Their discussion of combat forms and principles had invigorated him in a way he hadn't felt in ages. Solan was always full of surprises when it came to his knowledge and insights. Not like Anakin, who used to butt heads with him over the proper techniques, and an endless barrage of questions that often felt combative. But Solan soaked it all up like a sponge, hungry to learn more, hanging off every word his father said.

Solan's true self began to emerge. His steps took on a lighter and more carefree cadence, with a hint of excitement in each bounce.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile as he watched his son, it was contagious, so much that he found himself smiling brightly too. And with Solan by his side, Obi-Wan found himself walking with a newfound casualness reminiscent of his early days mentoring Anakin.

No need to be so formal all the time, he mused.

"You did exceptionally well today, Solan," Obi-Wan remarked, his voice filled with genuine pride. "Your understanding of the forms is remarkable for one so young."

Solan beamed with pride, his chest swelling a little with each word of his father’s praise. "Thanks, Obi-wan,"

Obi-Wan studied his son carefully as they walked, questions brimming in his eyes, "I'm curious, though. How did you become so proficient with the forms, given the... unconventional nature of your upbringing?"

Solan's expression softened, a faraway look on his face as he recalled fond memories.

“Well, mom couldn't teach me like other younglings, but she said it was important and that we had to be sneaky about it."

He smiled slightly, reminiscing. "And we had to hide what we were doing, so no one would find out who we were or what she was really teaching me, so she taught me like she was teaching me a dance."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows raised in surprise at the revelation. "A dance?"

Solan nodded happily, “She started with form one when I was four, it was just before she had to leave me for a mission, and she told me to practice while she was gone and we would work on them together when she got back. She said I had to learn the footwork perfectly first. And while she was gone I would practice all day and all night until I fell asleep, when she came home, I’d show her what I learned, we would practice together and then she’d teach me more."

It was such a simple solution and it wasn’t unheard of for combat to be compared to a dance. In fact, the two boasted many similarities. What a delightful way to teach an excitable child!

"That's quite clever indeed."

“The tricky part was learning how to do the forms without being able to use a lightsaber,”

Obi-Wan paused, he hadn’t considered that, Solan’s form with even the training saber seemed as natural as breathing, like he’d been doing it for years.

“What did your mother use in place of a lightsaber?”

“She stole a scarf from a merchant!” Obi-Wan’s eyebrow shot up in surprise.

“Your mother did what?”

Solan laughed loudly and nodded, “Yup! She went to the market at night, snuck in, stole a bright blue scarf from a merchant, and told me to pretend it was a lightsaber.”

His voice grew more animated as he explained. "It felt really silly doing it at first,” Obi-Wan nodded, that he could certainly understand, and the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. “But then she told me it would make learning look more like it was really a dance and not lightsaber forms. She said it was all about precision and control, and when the time came all I would need to adjust to was the weight of a lightsaber."

Obi-Wan nodded thoughtfully, a newfound appreciation for Cressida's methods dawning on him. Solan's movements did have a certain grace and fluidity to them. A scarf as a training tool? Obi-Wan chuckled at the simplicity of the solution, meant to keep Solan accustomed to something in his hand and be mindful of how his movements dictated the movement of something as simple as a scarf. And indeed, the more he thought of it, the more it did seem like the graceful forms of combat might look like an elegant dance to an untrained eye. Who looks for a Jedi with a lightsaber when all they can see is a boy with a colored scarf, dancing?

Obi-Wan stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, “Do you still have the scarf?” Solan nodded and reached into his robes pulling out a slightly faded blue scarf that looked like it had been his most treasured possession.

Obi-Wan smiled “Show me.”

Solan stood at the center of the large empty hall and began with his feet shoulder-width apart, holding the scarf in both hands. The pose was Whirwinds Embrace; he spun swiftly, using the momentum to propel himself forward in a lunging motion. As he extended his arms outward, the scarf flew forward as a lightsaber might deflect an incoming attack, creating a protective barrier around him. He moved seamlessly into Cascade of Serenity; beginning with a series of quick, evasive steps, weaving between imaginary opponents, the azure scarf fluttering in a way reminiscent of the blurred light of a lightsaber. He lowered his arms as if striking down adversaries with precise, flowing movements, the scarf acting as an extension of his will. Despite the intensity of his actions, his demeanor remained calm and composed, reflecting his mastery of the Force.

Obi-Wan watched transfixed at his son, as he executed these very same movements just hours earlier with a training saber but this was somehow different and it did, indeed look like a stunning piece of performance art. Who would have thought a mere scarf could be an effective training tool? Yet here was living proof of Cressida's resourcefulness as an unorthodox teacher.

The series of quick and agile spins of Zephyrs Dance flowed as beautifully as a ballet, evading imaginary attacks from all directions. Each whirl of the scarf disarmed imaginary opponents and created openings for counterattacks, his movements still graceful yet unpredictable to a degree, it would surely keep adversaries off balance and unable to predict his next move. It would be a perfect form for a craft assassin to get close to a target.

Obi-Wan watched attentively as Solan moved through the elegant motions of Form I, admiring the boy's natural talent and dedication to the art of lightsaber combat. Despite his unconventional upbringing, it was clear he had a natural aptitude for the art of combat.

His final pose was Cresting Wave; Solan exploded into motion surging forward with a spriteful leap, the scarf trailing behind him like a comet’s tail. As he moved, the scar flew before him creating an artful barrier that mimicked a flurry of attacks, each strike of the scarf delivered with precision. His movements like a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless as a wave crashing on the shore, embodying the strength and ferocity of a Jedi in battle.

The scarf fluttered to his side as he came to rest in a ready pose completing the motions and looking to his father who simply watched in fascination before offering applause, clapping at his son who beamed brightly. To the casual observer, it may have looked like dancing, but Obi-Wan recognized the solid foundations of Form One.

"Remarkable," mused Obi-Wan. "Your graceful style is a testament to your mother’s wisdom."

Solan tucked the scarf back into his robes, and suddenly looked around and shrunk back slightly as a few Jedi passed through the halls, his voice was soft and he looked uncertain.

"That's ok, right Obi-Wan?” he asked, brow furrowing. “That Mom taught me with a scarf instead of a real lightsaber? It’s not, disrespectful or anything, right?"

Obi-Wan squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Not at all, my boy. In fact, I believe your training has prepared you remarkably well. You show a grace and fluidity in your movements that surpass many trainees your age.”

Obi-Wan's hand rested reassuringly on Solan's shoulder as they continued walking, a simple gesture that spoke volumes to the boy. Though Solan tried to exude confidence, there was an unmistakable spring in his step now, a lightness that came from his father's praise.

“Solan, your understanding of Shii-Cho is well-rounded, few grasp the form so quickly. You're going to make a fine duelist someday."

Solan beamed, relief washing over his face, his cheeks reddened at the praise. "You really think so?" He had spent his young life concealing his abilities, but to have them recognized and encouraged lit a fire in him.

"I do," Obi-Wan affirmed. He was certain the boy would grow to be a skilled warrior.

And yet, glimpses of playfulness peeked through Solan's studious exterior - the bounce in his step. He was still a child at heart.

"The unconventional nature of your instruction is a testament to your mother's wisdom and creativity, the fundamentals are all there" Obi-Wan continued. "She did well to start you on the right path." As they continued on, Obi-Wan made a mental note to thank Cressida for instilling such a solid foundation in the boy. Her ingenious methods had served Solan well.

Obi-Wan gave his shoulder a paternal squeeze.

"You have nothing to worry about," the Jedi Master said warmly. "Now come, your mother awaits us. And I am certain she will be most pleased to hear of your progress today."

“When can I go to Illum and make my lightsaber?”

His enthusiasm was infectious and Obi-Wan chuckled. "All in due time, young one. For now, let's continue honing your skills."

As they stepped off the turbolift and neared Solan and Cressida’s quarters an idea struck him.

"You know, Solan," he began, a playful glint in his eyes, "I suppose I'll have to make sure you know how to dance properly as well."

Solan looked up quizzically. "Dance? Like, real dancing?”

Obi-Wan nodded. "Indeed. Combat and dance have much in common - precision, fluidity, reading your partner."

Solan arched an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his expression, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "Why would I need to learn that?"

Obi-Wan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You never know when it might come in handy," he replied cryptically. "Charm and poise can be as great a tool as a lightsaber sometimes."

Solan looked unconvinced, nose still wrinkled in distaste. Obi-Wan suppressed another laugh. The boy had his mother's stubborn streak, that much was clear.

"Come now, dancing isn't so dreadful," Obi-Wan cajoled. "It can even be fun, with the right partner."

Solan made a face. "Do I have to dance with girls?"

The thought seemed to disturb him greatly. Now Obi-Wan did laugh out loud at the boy's reaction, as it reminded him so much of himself at that age. He too had found the idea of dancing with girls thoroughly unappealing, long ago.

"Perhaps someday you won't mind so much," he said, eyes dancing with mirth. "After all, your mother is a girl, and you love her, don't you?"

"That's different," Solan insisted, though his expression had softened a bit. "She's my mom."

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding, an amused smile still playing about his lips. "Yes, I suppose you're right about that, “Regardless, a gentleman should know the basics. No lightsabers on the dance floor."

He added with a smile. “Manners matter, Solan, I should need to make sure you at least can grasp the fundaments of actual dancing. Perhaps we’ll get your mother to help teach you, no doubt she could probably use a lesson too, she was about as keen as you are when she was young.”

Solan didn’t seem interested, "Well, you can dance with Mom, and I'll stick to lightsabers." Obi-wan smiled at the thought. What would Solan do when he saw a girl he found pretty?

The doors to their quarters slid open and Solan strode on in, Obi-Wan braced himself for a conversation that he knew might not go as he would have liked but he wanted to continue to be present for Solan's training. Yes, that was it, he would simply ask if she minded if he stayed put for whatever lesson she had to teach. It wasn’t such a difficult thing, they were both mature adults and could certainly behave as such, couldn’t they?

He followed Solan inside and immediately sensed something was wrong. The boy's shoulders were slumped, his footsteps lacking their usual lively bounce. Obi-Wan noticed the somber expression on his young companion's face as he stared at the table in the living space. Following Solan's gaze, Obi-Wan spotted the objects that had given the boy pause - a data stick and a lightsaber.

Obi-Wan's heart sank, though he tried not to outwardly react. He had a dreadful feeling he knew what Solan had realized. The data stick and lightsaber could only mean one thing - Cressida had left unexpectedly. Though Obi-Wan was surprised by this development, he remained calm, not wanting to upset Solan further.

"Solan," he began gently. "Is everything alright?"

He did not respond right away, still processing this discovery. After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "She's gone."

Obi-Wan's heart ached at the quiver in Solan's voice.

Solan's face fell as he lifted the cylindrical hilt, running his fingers over the ridged metal grip of his mother's lightsaber. Though unlit, he could almost see the brilliant orange blade humming before him. With reverent care, he looped the data stick's cord around his neck, tucking the precious drive out of sight beneath his robes.

"Even if," he murmured, gaze distant.

Obi-Wan's brows knitted together, perplexed by the odd remark. But the Jedi Master held his tongue, unwilling to pry into such an intimate, vulnerable moment. Whatever Solan's whispered words had meant, some sorrows were too tender to be touched so soon.

Solan's eyes refocused, meeting his father's concerned stare. "You can go, father. I think I'll meditate and eat, then I'll go to bed. I'll see you in the morning at breakfast." Though his words were polite, his tone was flat and lifeless.

Obi-Wan frowned. The complete lack of emotion in the boy's voice bothered him deeply. This was not the Solan he knew - usually so quick to laughter and enthusiasm.

"No," he said firmly, a decision made in an instant.

Solan looked up, confusion flickering across his features.

"Solan, go and gather your things. You'll stay with me in my quarters until your mother returns."

For a minute the boy didn't move, uncertainty plain on his face. Then, with a gentle nudge through the Force from Obi-Wan, he stepped towards his bedroom, movements slow and hesitant. Still, there was a spark of excitement in his aura at the prospect of spending this time with his father.

As Solan busied himself packing, Obi-Wan turned his gaze to the window. The sun was setting over Coruscant, staining the sky crimson and gold.

"May the Force be with you, Cressida," he whispered into the fading light, hoping with all his heart for her safe return.

A few moments later Solan emerged from his bedroom, a small bag clutched in one hand. He hovered in the doorway, shoulders hunched, as if reluctant to leave the familiar comfort of his room.

Obi-Wan gave him an encouraging smile and held out an encouraging arm to beckon him. "Come, let's be off."

Together they left the quarters Solan had shared with his mother, Solan walked slowly, dragging his feet. He kept glancing back over his shoulder, eyes troubled.

Obi-Wan set a gentle hand on his son's shoulder.

"I know you're worried for your mother. But have faith, my boy. She is resourceful and strong in the Force. No harm will come to her, that much I am certain of"

Solan bit his lip but nodded, some of the tension easing from his slender frame.

They continued on in silence through the maze of corridors that made up the Jedi Temple as they entered into parts that Solan had never been to before. Up a turbolift into one of the rising towers that often houses masters. Solan seemed deep in thought, though Obi-Wan could sense his curiosity about visiting his father's living space for the first time.

When they arrived at Obi-Wan's modest quarters, the door opened with the same mechanical hiss as all others did.

"Come in, make yourself at home."

Solan stepped cautiously into the inviting space, his gaze wandering over the sparse yet cozy furnishings. The room exuded warmth, with soft lighting casting gentle shadows across the walls adorned with rows of holobooks. Among the few artifacts carefully displayed were a couple of holocrons, their ancient wisdom quietly beckoning from their resting places.

"I know it's not much to look at, but I hope you'll be comfortable here," Obi-Wan said, suddenly self-conscious about his humble abode.

Solan set his bag down and turned to Obi-Wan with a shy smile. "It's nice. Thank you, Father."

Obi-Wan's heart swelled. Perhaps this arrangement would be good for both of them, a chance to truly get to know one another.

"You're quite welcome, my son."

Twelve

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Hopefully, the length of this chapter makes up for my lack of posting on this story! What do you guys think? Do we have more answers or only more questions??? Well, hopefully, I'm over this writer's slump and I hope you guys enjoyed the latest chapter installment of my story. If you liked it then feel free to reblog and give me a comment on what your thoughts are, you guys make my day with your hilarious tags! Here's hoping Cressida's dream (at least the good part of it) turns to reality sooner rather than later! If you'd like to join my small but lovely taglist reblog or leave me a fun comment and let me know what you thought of it!

And for all of you who liked my Padawan one-shot Obi-Wan/reader insert/Master/Padawan story I am currently working on a second chapter! So stay tuned! Alright! Enough pandering, back to work, these stories don't write themselves!

@burnthecheshirewitch. @heyhawtdawgs. @pickleprickle. @split-spectrum(I know I've never tagged you in this story before but I thought you'd appreciate the Obi-Cress fluff in the beginning!) @bad4amficideasYo asked to be tagged in future Obi-Wan works and this is a longer story but I thought I'd throw it out there anyway and if it's not your thing no hard feelings at all and I will be posting a second chapter to Padawan soon! Gotta sere that smut nice and hot! ;)

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mandalhoerian · 21 days

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sw oc moots... save me...

sw oc moots

save me sw oc moots

#BEGGING BE MY FRIEND PLEASE #star wars oc #star wars x oc #is there a discord... pls #anakin skywalker x oc #anakin skywalker x original character #anakin skywalker x reader #obi-wan kenobi x oc #obi wan kenobi x oc #padme amidala x oc #star wars prequels #mandalorian oc #TAG TAG TAG

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khadrimxart · 20 days

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Some more beach art of Leigh Vanukar and Obi-Wan Kenobi. After a celebration on Everra, they find a quiet moment together on the beach in front of where they're staying. They admire the stars together- and get close, far, far too close. <3

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hombrediablo · 4 months

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art vs artist 2023 !!! I drew a lot of men kissing this year. Here’s to many more to come!

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eventhedevilsafraid · 1 year

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Not a proper Jedi

Summary: You are having a hell of a day. The last week has left you exhausted. A manic depressive episode, followed by a full day panic attack, followed by a, blessedly brief, anxiety attack has left you struggling to even attempt to person today. Your best friend finds you in your room, and decides to try and make it better.

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. MENTAL ILLNESSES: Manic Depression, Severe Panic disorder, Body dysmorphic disorder. mentions of medication. Talks of suicide, briefly. Plus sized reader. Obi-Wan being sweet. Mainly fluff and angst. Lots of tears and confessions. Flashbacks. No Y/N, not a big fan of it, but endearing nicknames and one not endearing nickname is used. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU GET TRIGGERED BY MENTAL ILLNESSES, SUICIDE TALKS, OR ANYTHING OF THE LIKE.

Word Count: 1900+

A/N: This is just part one. If you would like more please let me know I haven’t been in the best head space to work on my other story, so I just wrote this up to try and get those emotions out. I hope you guys like it!

Walking into the mess hall for mid-day meal, you entered the line behind a couple of knights a year or two older than you. You grabbed your tray and followed the flow of the line, reaching for a deep-fried nuna leg. Before you could grab it, the female knight of the pair in front of you snatched it.

“I don’t really think you need anything deep-fried, do you, huttlet?” The insult stung, but you elected not to respond, and just kept moving along in the line. Next up on the line was sliced meiloorun, and again you reached for it and actually had your hand on it, but again it was snatched from you.

“It’s the last one. You don’t mind, do you? I mean, you look like you could do without the sweets, right, huttlet?” She laughed and before you could actually respond this time, she walked away, still giggling to herself and her companion. Hurt and still hungry, you went to the salad bar and grabbed one at random. Placing it on your tray, you looked around the mess hall for a place to sit.

Finding an empty table in the far back of the room, you made your way there, grabbing silverware and a glass of blue milk on the way. Sitting down in the chair that faced away from the rest of the room, you just wanted to eat and go back to training before anything else happened.

You opened the salad box, and saw you grabbed a berberian crab salad. A rarity for the kitchen to make since the Nabooian ingredients weren’t shipped to them often, and you absolutely loved it. You quickly started eating, trying to just finish and get out of there as fast as you could. Unfortunately, sitting with your back to the room and engrossed in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the small group of females gathered behind you. A mixture of knights older, same age, and younger than you stood behind you, intentions very non-Jedi like. You stood and turned to face the group surrounding you, slipping your hands into your robe pockets and flicking on your holo-recorder.

“Look at what we have here, a huttlet with a salad. Why didn’t you just skip meals today? You could stand to lose the weight, you know. A disgrace to the Order, you’re so big it’s no wonder you don’t go on off world missions. I’d be terrified the ship wouldn’t lift off the ground if I were you.” Snickers were surrounding you, making you feel boxed in. “I don’t know if you know this, but the only reason you have ‘friends’ is because they pity you. No one in their right mind would be friends with you.” She glanced at the girls behind her with a wicked grin and more snickers sounded, and you finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“I may be a bit bigger than you, but at least I don’t have the face and personality of a wet gundark.” You stood up, and as you went to walk by them the ringleader shifted and stood in front of you.

“Who do you think you are, insulting me? The council loves me. I can just tell them you told me, in confidence, that you have broken your Oath and who do you think they will believe? Me, the perfect Jedi Knight, or you, the disgusting, fat, Jedi wanna-be?” A smug look rose on her face like she had won, but you had one more thing to say to her.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should go do that right now, because I am sure Master Yoda would love to listen to the holo-recording I have of this interaction.” She paled and you smirked. “I suggest you leave me alone, or I will gladly turn it over. Now move out of my way, or I will make you.” You shoved through the group of stunned Knights, shoulder checking the ones who didn’t move and blocked your path. Before you fully escaped the group, her hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, gripping you a lot tighter than was necessary. Swinging around, you attempt to rip your hand out of her grip, but she was holding on too tight and it was starting to hurt. She walked a couple steps closer to get in your face.

“Don’t think this is over, you repulsive huttlet. I-,” She stopped her sentence short just as Master Mace Windu walked close.

“Hello, Dewdrop. We missed you at dinner last night. Is everything okay?” He looked at the small gathered group and noticed the young knight's hand was still latched to your wrist, and it looked like a painful hold. “Knight Verona. I strongly suggest you release your hold immediately. Physical contact without consent is assault, no matter how small, and if she so wishes, the council will hear of it.” He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, waiting. ‘Verona’ quickly dropped your arm and glared daggers at you.

You turned to Master Windu, “Thank you, Master. And I am sorry I missed dinner. It was a long night of training and then I got caught up in my meditation. By the time I resurfaced from the Force, it was well past dinner. Maybe I can make up for it and we can all meet tonight instead?” You knew it was petty. Showing off how well you knew the council in front of these hateful females, but you just wanted them to leave you alone.

“That sounds lovely, Dewdrop. Come, let us go ask the others if they would like to join as well.” He drew his hand up in the direction of the door, and you looked back at the shocked knight's faces, nodded, and swept out of the room following the master who just saved you from harm.

“Thank you, Master. I am unsure as to what started that, or where it was headed, but I thank you anyways for helping me leave it.” He smiled down at you as you walked beside him.

“Of course, the rest of the Council probably wouldn’t have been so kind.” You nodded in agreement. You and Master Windu met with the rest of the council members, with Masters Yoda, Plo Koon, Kit Fisto, Shaak Ti, Depa Billaba, and even Oppo Rancisis agreed to join you and Master Windu for dinner. The main purpose of these dinners were to check in with you, see how your medications were helping or hindering you, and letting you strengthen the ties to them in the Force to anchor you during your bad days. While attachment is forbidden, there was a special case with you.

When you were discovered, as a three year old child, to be Force-sensitive and brought to the temple you were adjusting well. As you grew in age, your power of the Force grew exponentially. When you were 14, you started showing signs of being mentally unwell after a mission went completely wrong and you master was killed, and you were held hostage, violently tortured, sexually assaulted, kept in a constant state of drugged compliance before you were rescued 29 days later.

Master Yoda himself noticed you weren't well, and walked you to the Healing Halls to meet with the chief healer, Vokara Che. After many, many sessions of talking with the grandmaster and chief healer, you were diagnosed with manic depression and severe panic disorder with both panic and anxiety attacks. Unfortunately, mind healing didn’t take these away like you had hoped, so Master Che placed you on antidepressants and antianxiety medications. You had to go to the Healing Halls every three days at first. You had shown how dedicated you were to overcoming your ailments, logging in journals every attack, every episode, and roughly how long they lasted, and you now only went twice a month.

When your visits were decreased, you were told, explicitly, that the Halls were open to you if ever you needed. Master Che also informed the council, and an informal meeting was held that night. According to Vokara, when you were in a manic episode before, she was unable to help surface you, but after many trials and errors, she broke the code and tied her signature to yours in a desperate attempt to help you from harming yourself. When informed of this, the council was shocked, some were outraged she so blatantly disregarded the code to save one person. Master Yoda had weighed in then, stating how strong you were with the Force, how having the tie to Master Che helped you have longer periods of stabilization, and he proposed a secret special case. Encourage you to form bonds with other council members, encourage the council members to have open ears if you wanted to talk, and see if this could be brought forth to the rest of the Order, and make them stronger.

So far, the arrangement has worked out wonderfully. Unless you were specifically triggered, you could go months without an episode. But when an episode hit, you were flooded with hateful thoughts, you were irrationally angry, never slept until you passed out from exhaustion, and were constantly moving. When it finally subsided, you were hit with insanely strong panic attacks, and an anxiety attack followed that. The lengths and severities always differed, but normally lasted from 5 days to a week before you were finally able to see the other side again. Luckily, you were usually able to tell when one was about to start, the Force around you normally felt unstable, shaky. If others noticed and told you, you usually played it off as nerves, and then quickly excused yourself from whatever was going on.

On your way back to your quarters, you would send word to someone on the council, whether through a holocall or a holomessage. They would inform Master Che, and then either Mace Windu or Yoda would show up to your quarters a couple hours later. They would stay in your living space and sink into the Force to exude a calm and peaceful signature, and wrap it around your entire apartment so that no matter where you were in the space, you felt the calming call from the Force. Never once when they were there did you attempt self-harm.

The times you were unable to get a message out to them before you lost yourself, you would race home and end up hiding in the corner of your bedroom. You would stare into space, frozen in place, but your mind never stopping. When the self-hating thoughts invaded you, unable to find peace, and sleep wasn’t an option, you would drag the razor along your skin. You had explained it before, though they never understood. It was a way for you to release the incessant thoughts that invaded your brain. If you didn’t contact them and they found out you had not been seen or heard from in a few hours, Masters Windu and Fisto would almost bust your door down to find you. Twice they had found you with cuts running along your arms and enough blood loss you were unconscious, but still barely alive. Once they had found you in the act, sobbing, with deep scratches running through your hair, along your temples, and down your face. You weren’t allowed to be alone for almost 3 months, and any object even marginally sharp enough to cut you wasn’t given back to you without supervision for almost a year.

#original character #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x oc #obi wan fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

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star-wars-writing · 4 months

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The Twilight Prophecy - Shadows of Soluna: Echoes of a Forgotten Unity - Prologue

A/N: "Hello, Guys! I know I said I would wait until I got some response before continuing, but I kind of wanted to put this prologue out there to give the story more of a back story. Thank for those who've read the story and for joining me on this journey through the world of Soluna. This chapter continues to weave the original tale of Crown Prince Cody and Crown Prince Obi-Wan with inspirations from the Star Wars universe. As always, your support and feedback mean the world to me.

"Copyright Notice: The original elements of this story, including the Kingdom of Soluna, its lore, and original characters, are my own creation and are © Love_of_fanfiction here on A03 and Star-wars-writing on Tumblr. These elements may not be reproduced, copied, or used in any form without my express permission.

The Star Wars characters and universe elements included in this story remain the intellectual property of Lucasfilm Ltd. and/or Disney. This fanfiction is a non-commercial work created for entertainment purposes only and is not officially affiliated with the owners of the Star Wars franchise.

Please respect the rights of all creators and do not replicate or use any part of this story for commercial purposes. Let's continue to enjoy the world of fanfiction responsibly and respectfully. Thank you!"

Now let's start the story.

In an age now lost to the history of time, the illustrious Kingdom of Soluna stood as a paragon of unity and grandeur. Nestled in a world where the rhythms of day and night were harmoniously intertwined, Soluna was a realm where the natural cycle of the sun's rise and the moon's ascent were celebrated as the lifeblood of existence.

Soluna, sprawling across diverse landscapes, was a kingdom of breathtaking beauty. Its heart, the city of Lumina, was an architectural marvel. The buildings, crafted from stones that seemed to absorb the essence of the skies, shimmered in the daylight with hues of gold and amber and radiated a soft luminescence under the moon's gaze. The streets of Lumina, paved with cobblestones of moonstone and sunstone, sparkled, leading the way to bustling marketplaces and serene gardens alike.

The people of Soluna were a vibrant tapestry of cultures, each contributing to the kingdom's rich tapestry. In the day, farmers toiled under the benevolent sun, their fields a testament to the kingdom's fertility, while artists found inspiration in the warm hues of the afternoon. As night fell, astronomers and poets sought the wisdom of the stars, their works a celebration of the moon's mystique.

Soluna's rulers, the Solar Monarchs and the Lunar Regents, governed with a balance as seamless as the cycle of day and night. Their reign was marked by festivals that celebrated the duality of their domain – the Solstice of Sun, a jubilant carnival of light and warmth, and the Equinox of Moon, a reflective, ethereal gathering under the night sky.

The Royal Academy of Soluna, a revered institution, stood at the confluence of science, magic, and philosophy. Here, the brightest minds delved into the mysteries of the natural world, their discoveries a tribute to the enlightened spirit of Soluna.

Yet, beneath this facade of peace and prosperity, a shadow loomed. An envious sorcerer, coveting the kingdom's harmony and power, unleashed a malevolent curse. The curse fractured the very essence of Soluna, tearing apart the balance that had been its foundation. In an instant, the kingdom was split into two realms – one bathed in perpetual daylight, the Sun Court, and the other shrouded in eternal night, the Moon Court. The memory of their shared past, of the unity that once was, vanished, leaving behind a void filled with discord and longing.

The once-glorious Kingdom of Soluna faded into legend, its tale a haunting reminder of the fragility of harmony. As the Sun and Moon Courts evolved independently, the echoes of their common legacy dwindled, leaving only a whisper of the unity that once graced their lands.

This is the forgotten tale of Soluna, a kingdom where day and night once danced in unison, now a lost chapter in the history of time, waiting to be rediscovered and restored by those destined to reforge the broken bonds.

In the era when Soluna thrived, the royal family was revered not only for their governance but also for the unique traits that some of them possessed. At the heart of Soluna's lineage was a rare and revered characteristic – the blessing of dual-sex, an embodiment of the kingdom's cherished balance of sun and moon. Not every monarch was graced with this trait, but those who were, were celebrated as living symbols of Soluna's harmony.

King Orion, the last ruler of united Soluna, was one such individual. A leader of unparalleled wisdom and compassion, Orion's dual-sex nature was seen as a perfect harmony between masculine and feminine energies, a physical manifestation of the balance that he so tirelessly worked to maintain in his kingdom. With hair that shimmered like spun gold in the sunlight and eyes that held the depth of the night sky, he was a figure of awe and reverence.

Queen Althea, his consort, was a woman of profound intellect and grace. Her keen mind was matched by a heart full of empathy, making her a beloved figure among the people. Her long, raven hair was often adorned with silver and gold, symbolizing the unity of day and night that Soluna cherished.

Together, Orion and Althea had three children, each inheriting different aspects of their parents' qualities. Prince Solaris, the eldest, was a vibrant and charismatic leader, his features reminiscent of the sun's fiery glow. He was a skilled diplomat and warrior, his presence commanding yet warm.

Princess Lunara, the middle child, possessed a serene beauty and a deep connection to the mystical arts. Her intuition and wisdom beyond her years made her an invaluable advisor in the royal court. Her silver-blonde hair and moonlit eyes were a testament to her affinity with the night.

The youngest, Prince Eclipsion, was a harmonious blend of his siblings' traits. With a keen mind and a compassionate heart, he was the embodiment of balance. Eclipsion's unique nature, showing traits of dual-sex like his father, made him a symbol of Soluna's core values.

In the royal palace, a grand structure that mirrored the kingdom's splendor, the family's interactions were a microcosm of Soluna's ideals. Discussions at the dinner table were lively, with each member bringing their perspective to debates on governance, culture, and the future of their realm.

"I believe we must expand our trade routes to the Northern Territories," proposed Prince Solaris during one such discussion, his voice confident and persuasive.

Princess Lunara, always thoughtful, responded, "We must consider the impact on the local cultures. Our goal should be harmony, not dominance."

King Orion listened intently, his expression a mix of pride and contemplation. "Your points are valid," he said, his voice a soothing blend of authority and gentleness. "Soluna thrives not by imposing but by understanding and integrating. We must find a balance that honors our values and respects others."

Queen Althea, observing the exchange, added, "And let us not forget the importance of nurturing our own arts and sciences. Our strength lies in our ability to create and innovate."

Prince Eclipsion, quietly absorbing the discussion, finally spoke, his words reflecting his innate wisdom. "Perhaps we can find a way to blend these approaches – to expand with mindfulness and foster growth within."

The royal family's dynamics were a testament to their leadership – diverse in thoughts and opinions yet united in their love for Soluna and its people. Their discussions often extended beyond the palace walls, as they engaged with scholars, artists, and common folk alike, ensuring that every voice was heard and valued.

In the once harmonious Kingdom of Soluna, a sinister presence lurked in the shadows, biding its time. Darth Bane, a Sith sorcerer skilled in the dark arts, harbored a deep-seated disdain for the peace and balance Soluna represented. In his eyes, only in chaos and destruction could true power thrive. His heart, a void of darkness, sought to unravel the fabric of harmony that held Soluna together.

One fateful day, under a sky where the sun and moon hung in uneasy truce, Darth Bane made his move. With malevolent intent, he approached the grand gates of the royal palace. The guards, sensing an ominous aura, stood tense and alert, but they were no match for the sorcerer's dark powers.

In the royal hall, King Orion and Queen Althea, along with their children, were caught unaware. The family, a symbol of Soluna's unity, could not fathom the depth of the darkness that was about to befall them. Darth Bane, cloaked in shadows, stepped into the hall, his presence a chilling wave that washed over everyone present.

"Your reign of false harmony ends today," Darth Bane declared, his voice a sinister echo that filled the chamber. Before anyone could react, he unleashed his curse, a maelstrom of dark energy that enveloped the royal family and the palace.

King Orion and Queen Althea, caught in the eye of this dark storm, could only watch in horror as their world unraveled. The curse struck with merciless precision, tearing the very essence of Soluna apart. In an instant, Prince Solaris and Princess Lunara found their minds clouded, their memories of the unity and love within their family twisted into visions of division and rivalry.

Darth Bane's dark magic spun a deceitful narrative in the minds of the royal siblings, convincing them that the Sun and Moon Courts had always been at odds, that their destinies were to rule separately and in conflict. Prince Solaris, his thoughts now shrouded in the illusion of perpetual daylight, became the King of the Sun Court, forgetting the ties that bound him to his family. Princess Lunara, her mind veiled in the eternal night, ascended as the Queen of the Moon Court, her silver hair a trait revered in this new, divided reality.

The once majestic capital, Lumina, now stood as a ruin on the divide of day and night, its history and purpose lost to the curse's fog. The people of Soluna, now citizens of two separate realms, gazed upon the ruins with no recollection of their former unity.

King Orion and Queen Althea's fate remained shrouded in mystery, their end a tragic chapter in the history of Soluna. Prince Eclipsion, the youngest, disappeared amidst the chaos, his fate unknown, fueling whispers and legends among the people.

As Darth Bane retreated into the shadows, his curse complete, the Kingdom of Soluna faded into a realm of divided memories, its once glorious past now a forgotten dream. The Sun and Moon Courts, each cast in their respective lights, began a new chapter, unaware of the unity that once defined them, their future entwined with a prophecy yet to unfold.

In the wake of Darth Bane’s malevolent curse, the once-unified Kingdom of Soluna fractured into two isolated realms: the Sun Court, ruled by King Solaris, and the Moon Court, under Queen Lunara’s reign. The siblings, their memories altered, their hearts veiled in darkness, became strangers to one another, each leading their courts in isolation, disconnected from their shared past.

The Sun Court, bathed in perpetual daylight, became a land where the sun’s relentless gaze hardened the hearts of its people. King Solaris, once a prince known for his warmth and charisma, transformed into a ruler whose judgments were as scorching as the sun’s rays. The palace, once a beacon of balance, now stood as a fortress of light, its walls reflecting the unyielding nature of its inhabitants.

In the Moon Court, night reigned eternal, casting the realm in a serene yet somber glow. Queen Lunara, whose wisdom and intuition were once celebrated, became a figure of mystery, her rule shrouded in the silent contemplation of the moonlit skies. Her court, a reflection of the night itself, was a place of quiet strength and hidden depths.

As years passed, the void between the Sun and Moon Courts grew, fueled by forgotten kinship and a growing sense of otherness. The common heritage of Soluna, once the cornerstone of their civilization, became lost in the mists of time, replaced by a narrative of division and rivalry.

Skirmishes along the borders became frequent, as misunderstandings and fear bred conflict. The Sun Court’s warriors, equipped for battle under the blazing sun, clashed with the Moon Court’s sentinels, masters of the night’s shadows. Each encounter left a scar on the land, a reminder of the harmony that was lost.

In both courts, the people’s hearts ached for a peace they could not remember. Whispers of a time when sun and moon were one lingered in their songs and stories, like echoes of a forgotten dream. Yet, these tales were regarded as mere fables, the wishful thinking of those who yearned for an end to the strife.

King Solaris, sitting upon his throne, his features cast in sharp relief by the ever-present sunlight, often found his thoughts wandering to the Moon Court. A sense of longing, unexplainable and deep, tugged at his soul. “Why does the night seem so familiar, yet so distant?” he pondered, his mind clouded by the remnants of the curse.

In her palace, Queen Lunara gazed at the stars, her expression a tapestry of melancholy and longing. “There’s a sorrow in these stars, a tale of loss,” she mused, her heart echoing a grief she could not fully comprehend.

The prolonged period of conflict and mistrust between the Sun and Moon Courts wove a tapestry of sorrow and longing, a tragic consequence of Darth Bane’s curse. The once-great Kingdom of Soluna, now divided and forgetful of its past, stood as a land where day and night were no longer in harmony, but in silent contention, yearning for a unity they could no longer remember.

Years wore on, deepening the rift between the Sun and Moon Courts, as their forgotten unity became little more than a legend. The once harmonious Kingdom of Soluna was now a battleground for two opposing realms, each under the shadow of Darth Bane’s curse, oblivious to their shared heritage.

One fateful day, the Sun Court, led by King Solaris, marched upon the Moon Court’s borders. The sun blazed fiercely in the sky, casting a harsh light on the armored warriors, their swords and shields glinting ominously. King Solaris, astride his majestic steed, his armor reflecting the ruthless sun, wore an expression of grim determination. His once compassionate heart had turned steely, hardened by years under the unrelenting sun.

In response, the Moon Court’s defenders, shrouded in the protective cloak of night, emerged silently. Queen Lunara, a silhouette against the moonlit backdrop, stood atop the ramparts of her fortress. Her eyes, reflecting the cool luminescence of the moon, were pools of sorrow and resolve. Her warriors, adept in the art of shadow warfare, readied their bows, the silver arrows aimed at the approaching Sun Court army.

The battle that ensued was a tragic spectacle. The clash of swords and the twang of bows sang a discordant melody, a lament for the lost unity of Soluna. The ground, a witness to this strife, was marred with the scars of battle, the soil drinking the blood of sun and moon alike.

In the midst of the chaos, Solaris and Lunara found themselves face to face, their swords crossed. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met, and a spark of recognition flickered, quickly smothered by years of enmity and the sorcerer's curse. Words were unnecessary; their blades spoke for them, each strike a painful reminder of their division.

Around them, the battle raged on, the air filled with cries of anguish and the clash of metal. The once-peaceful land of Soluna was now a witness to the sorrow of its rulers, a canvas upon which the tragedy of forgotten kinship was painted in stark hues.

As dawn broke, marking the end of the conflict, both courts retreated, leaving the battlefield littered with the remnants of their clash. The cost of their division was etched in the faces of the surviving warriors, their eyes hollow with the weight of loss.

King Solaris, returning to his sunlit palace, felt a heaviness in his heart, a sorrow that the light could not dispel. He wandered the silent halls, haunted by the moonlit eyes of Lunara, a nagging sense of something lost lingering in his mind.

Similarly, Queen Lunara, amidst the quiet of her moon-drenched chambers, pondered the day’s events. The sun’s relentless blaze in Solaris’s eyes haunted her, a reminder of a connection she could not grasp, a puzzle whose pieces lay scattered in the shadows of her memory.

In their separate realms, Solaris and Lunara grieved for the unity they could not remember, the harmony that was once the foundation of their existence. The battles and strife, while momentarily ceasing, left a lingering question in the air – a silent longing for a peace that seemed as distant as the forgotten days of Soluna.

Years trickled by like grains of sand in the hourglass of time, and with them, the era of King Solaris and Queen Lunara faded into history, giving way to a new generation of rulers. In the Sun Court, King Yoren ascended the throne, a ruler whose very presence was like a soft dawn breaking the darkness. In the Moon Court, King Yoda took up the mantle, a sage whose wisdom was as deep and vast as the night sky.

King Yoren, unlike his predecessors, bore a heart not hardened by the perpetual daylight but warmed by it. His rule was marked by a gentle strength, a desire to see beyond the blinding light of day. He was a man of medium build, with hair that captured the hues of the morning sun and eyes that reflected a sky free of storms. His reign began with a vision of peace, a longing to bridge the chasm that had long separated the Sun and Moon Courts.

In the Moon Court, King Yoda's presence was as calming as the cool touch of moonlight. His wisdom, accrued over decades of study and reflection, brought a renewed sense of purpose to his people. With a stature small yet commanding, and eyes that twinkled with the light of distant stars, Yoda spoke with a voice that resonated with the ancient truths of the night.

In the privacy of his solar chambers, King Yoren often found himself gazing at the horizon, where day met night in a fleeting embrace. "The time for endless conflict has passed," he mused aloud, his voice echoing the resolve in his heart. "We must seek understanding, for in the light of the sun, all shadows are cast away."

Similarly, in the Moon Court, King Yoda pondered the future in his observatory, surrounded by star charts and celestial instruments. "In the cycle of the cosmos, balance is the eternal truth," he whispered to the night. "We must extend our hand to the Sun Court, for in the darkness, even the brightest star seeks companionship."

The desire for peace sparked a series of secret missives between the two rulers, each letter a tentative step towards understanding. Their correspondence, carried by trusted envoys under the veil of secrecy, wove a delicate thread of hope between the two courts.

As word of this budding alliance spread, it was met with mixed reactions. In the Sun Court, some praised Yoren's vision, while others, steeped in the old ways of rivalry, voiced their dissent. "To extend a hand to the Moon Court is to forget the battles fought under our sun," argued a sun courtier, his words a reflection of the lingering mistrust.

In the Moon Court, Yoda's councilors debated in hushed tones. "King Yoda's wisdom has always guided us," one advisor remarked, her voice laced with cautious optimism. "Perhaps it is time to step out of the shadows and embrace the light of peace."

Amidst these discussions, both Yoren and Yoda remained steadfast, their conviction unwavering. They knew the path to peace was fraught with obstacles, but the vision they shared – a vision of a world where the sun's warmth and the moon's grace coexisted – was a dream they dared to nurture.

In time, this dream led to the first historic meeting between the two kings, a clandestine summit under the stars, at the very ruins of the once-great capital of Lumina. There, amidst the whispers of a past long forgotten, King Yoren and King Yoda stood face to face, the first of their kind to seek a harmony that transcended the division of day and night.

Their meeting, though shrouded in secrecy, was the first flicker of a flame that promised to light the way for both courts – a flame that held the potential to dispel the shadows of war and illuminate a path to a united future.

Under the cloak of night, where the stars held court in the sky, the ruins of Lumina bore witness to a historic meeting – the first of its kind in centuries. King Yoren of the Sun Court and King Yoda of the Moon Court, each a ruler in their own right, stepped into the hallowed grounds of what once was the heart of the unified Soluna. The air was thick with anticipation, and the ruins, bathed in the soft luminescence of the moon and the residual warmth of the sun, seemed to awaken from their long slumber.

King Yoren, dressed in robes that captured the warm hues of the sunrise, approached with a respectful nod. His expression, usually serene, was etched with the gravity of the moment. "King Yoda," he began, his voice steady yet imbued with emotion, "I stand before you not as a ruler of the day, but as a seeker of peace. Our realms have been divided for too long."

King Yoda, his stature small but presence immense, met Yoren's gaze. His eyes, mirroring the depth of the night sky, reflected a wisdom born of years spent under the moon's watch. "Indeed, King Yoren. In the cycle of night and day, there lies a harmony we have forgotten. It is time to remember and rebuild."

The ruins around them, remnants of a time when day and night were one, stood as silent witnesses to their dialogue. Yoren and Yoda walked amidst the fallen columns and broken archways, each step a symbol of their journey towards reconciliation.

"The people of the Sun Court are strong and passionate, but in our unending day, we have lost sight of the stars," Yoren confessed, his gaze lingering on a fragment of a sunstone. "We need the wisdom and perspective that the night brings."

Yoda nodded, his hands clasped behind his back. "And the Moon Court, though introspective and resilient, yearns for the warmth that only the sun can provide. Our strength lies in unity, not isolation."

Their conversation meandered through the possibilities of a joint future, a tapestry of ideas and hopes. They spoke of joint festivals to celebrate both the sun and the moon, of exchanges of scholars and artists, and of trade routes that would benefit both realms.

As dawn approached, painting the sky with the first light of day, Yoren and Yoda stood side by side, watching the horizon. The symbolic merging of night and day in that moment was not lost on them.

"We stand at the brink of a new era," Yoren said, his voice imbued with a newfound resolve. "A truce between our courts is but the first step towards healing the rift that has long separated us."

"Let this dawn mark the beginning of our journey together," Yoda added, his voice soft yet firm. "A journey towards a peace that honors both the sun and the moon."

The establishment of the truce, there amidst the ruins of Lumina, was a promise – a promise of a future where the Sun and Moon Courts could coexist in harmony. As Yoren and Yoda departed, each returning to their respective realms, the first rays of the sun mingled with the retreating night, a symbolic reminder of the unity they sought to achieve.

Their meeting, though kept secret from many, laid the foundations for a slowly blossoming relationship between the Sun and Moon Courts. It was a testament to their wisdom and the realization that in unity, not division, lay the true strength and prosperity of their realms.

In the aftermath of the historic meeting at the ruins of Lumina, King Yoren and King Yoda began the delicate task of nurturing the fragile truce into a lasting bond between the Sun and Moon Courts. This journey, paved with cautious optimism, was a testament to their shared vision of a harmonious future.

King Yoren returned to his sunlit palace, where the walls echoed with the memories of endless days. In the grand council chamber, bathed in golden light, he addressed his advisors. "We stand on the cusp of a new dawn," Yoren stated, his voice resonating with a quiet yet unmistakable determination. "The Moon Court is not our enemy; they are our counterparts, integral to restoring the balance that Soluna once knew."

His council, a collection of seasoned diplomats and warriors, exchanged glances. Some bore expressions of skepticism, their minds shadowed by generations of conflict, while others looked intrigued, their curiosity piqued by the possibility of change.

General Arcturus, a veteran of many sunlit battles, voiced his concern. "Your Majesty, the Moon Court has always been shrouded in mystery. Can we truly trust them?" His tone, though respectful, carried the weight of years of distrust.

Yoren’s response was thoughtful, reflecting the depth of his conviction. "Trust is like the dawn. It begins with a mere sliver of light, growing steadily until it illuminates all around us. We must be the first to extend this light."

Meanwhile, in the Moon Court, King Yoda convened a similar gathering under the soft, ethereal glow of moonstones. The atmosphere was one of contemplative silence, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the Sun Court.

"Change, like the phases of the moon, is inevitable," Yoda spoke, his voice a calm, guiding force in the dimly lit chamber. "Our path forward lies in harmony with the Sun Court. This is the way to true wisdom."

A murmur ran through the assembly, a mix of surprise and contemplation. Lady Celestine, an advisor known for her insight, shared her thoughts. "The night has always been our ally, but it has also kept us in solitude. Perhaps it is time we step into the light of new possibilities."

As months turned to years, small yet significant steps were taken. Joint festivals were initiated, celebrated on the borders of the two realms. These festivals, a blend of sun and moon traditions, became a symbol of their growing unity. People from both courts mingled, sharing stories and customs, and discovering the beauty in their differences.

Trade routes were established, allowing the exchange of goods and knowledge. Sun Court’s merchants brought the warmth of the sun in their wares, while Moon Court’s traders offered the cool wisdom of the night.

Cultural exchanges flourished, with artists, scholars, and musicians crossing the borders to share and learn. In the Sun Court, the melodies of the night played by Moon Court musicians captivated the hearts of many, while in the Moon Court, the vibrant colors of Sun Court's art opened new vistas of expression.

King Yoren and King Yoda continued their correspondence, each letter a reinforcement of their commitment to peace. Through these letters, they shared not only the progress of their endeavors but also the challenges they faced, forging a bond of mutual respect and understanding.

The gradual process of building trust and cooperation laid the foundation for future generations. It was a testament to the belief that unity was not only beneficial but essential for the prosperity and well-being of both realms. In this journey, the Sun and Moon Courts slowly rediscovered the harmony that was once the essence of Soluna, illuminating a path towards a future where day and night could coexist in peace.

In the unfolding tapestry of the Sun and Moon Courts' history, the lineage of rulers bore the responsibility of upholding and nurturing the delicate bond established by King Yoren and King Yoda. Following Yoda's wise reign, the Moon Court was guided by King Dooku, a ruler of sharp intellect and a commanding presence. Dooku, though a man of more stern disposition than his predecessor, recognized the value of the alliance with the Sun Court. He continued the tradition of cultural exchanges, though with a more strategic approach, ensuring the Moon Court's mystical and intellectual heritage was preserved and respected.

In the Sun Court, after the era of King Yoren, King Jaster ascended the throne. He was a leader of valor and strength, with a charisma that shone as brightly as the sun itself. Jaster's rule was marked by a period of expansion and prosperity. He took to heart the lessons of cooperation with the Moon Court, fostering trade relations and joint military exercises that strengthened the bonds of trust and mutual reliance. Jaster, with his vibrant energy, brought a new dynamism to the Sun Court's interactions with their nocturnal neighbors.

The subsequent transition of power in the Moon Court to King Qui-Gon was a return to the more introspective and philosophical approach of King Yoda. Qui-Gon, a thoughtful and wise ruler, married the serene and insightful Lady Tahl. Together, they embodied the tranquility and depth of the Moon Court. Qui-Gon's reign saw a resurgence in the arts and sciences, with a focus on understanding the natural world and the cosmos. His gentle guidance further solidified the Moon Court's reputation as a realm of wisdom and introspection.

Meanwhile, in the Sun Court, the transition from King Jaster to his son, King Jango, marked the continuation of a vibrant and powerful dynasty. Jango, much like his father, was a ruler of great courage and determination. His marriage to Queen Seraphina brought a blend of warmth and intelligence to the Sun Court. Under Jango's rule, the Sun Court continued to flourish, its people basking in the prosperity brought about by ongoing peace and cooperation with the Moon Court.

The births of Crown Princes Cody and Obi-Wan during the reigns of King Jango and King Qui-Gon, respectively, were celebrated with great joy in both courts. These princes, born into a legacy of burgeoning unity and cooperation, were seen as symbols of the enduring alliance between day and night.

In these years of gradual rapprochement, the birth of the Crown Princes in both courts marked a new hope. In the Sun Court, Crown Prince Cody was born under the auspicious first light of dawn. His first cries were met with the jubilation of a kingdom that saw in him the future of continued harmony. Cody grew under the relentless sun, his personality a reflection of its brilliance and clarity.

Similarly, in the Moon Court, the birth of Crown Prince Obi-Wan was celebrated under the soft glow of a full moon. His arrival was heralded as a sign of enduring peace, and his upbringing was imbued with the mystique and calm of the lunar realm. Obi-Wan matured into a thoughtful and introspective young man, his demeanor as soothing as the moonlight.

The parallel lives of these princes, born into a legacy of burgeoning unity, were destined to intertwine. Their upbringing, though separate, was underpinned by the same principles of understanding and cooperation that their forebears had championed.

As they came of age, the hopes of both courts rested on their shoulders – the expectation that they would carry forward the work started generations ago, and perhaps, bring about the fulfillment of a harmony that had once been the essence of Soluna.

A/N: Now I will wait before continuing this story, I did want to give you some backstory to the idea I have here. I would love to hear all of your thoughts, suggestions, ideas and comments you might have. I look forward to know what you think, and if you would like to read more about this story I've started. @swfandomevent @swfanfics @codywanbingo

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galacticwildfire · 2 years

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Illicit Affairs | Obi-Wan Kenobi

One

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Naberrie!oc

Rhea Amidala meets Obi-Wan Kenobi when he and his master come to her younger sisters aid and he discovers the queen's sister was once a Jedi, expelled from the order for her unwillingness to forgo love and attachment. The two stranded together on Tatooine find common ground despite their differences, and above all a hope within the other for something greater than themselves.

Word count: 4.8k

Tags/warnings: invasion, attachment issues, some arguing over ideology, not many warnings for this chapter, family issues

A/N; Hey guys, this series is basically going to be a love letter to obi-wan kenobi, from episode I to his show, with Padme's older sister being that constant in his life. You all bet your asses we are gonna have two Jedi’s with healthy relationships with attachment who want to be together who get fucked over anyways.

32 BBY | The Phantom Menace

Every last instinct I have screams at me that something is terribly amiss, even if it's fallen on the deaf ears of my sisters council. She has the title and the ornaments that force them to listen, she is young and wise, in their eyes I am merely a failed Jedi whose council is void, and so I'm left to anxiously watch as she gives her address to the Trade Federation.

"Again you come before us, your highness."

"You will not be so pleased when you hear what I have to say, Viceroy. Your trade boycott of our planet has ended."

Her voice is deep and strong, it is still strange to me seeing her like this, a queen. She is far too grown up to be fourteen, but then again so was I at her age.

"I was not aware of such a failure."

"I have word that the chancellors ambassadors are with you now, and that you have been commanded to reach a settlement."

"I know nothing of any ambassadors," the Viceroy denies, a clear lie. "You must be mistaken."

"Beware viceroy," she warns. "The Federation has gone too far this time."

One thing I truly admire about my younger sister is her clear headedness. Her firm resolve without becoming emotional, something I lack despite my years of trying to master it.

"We would never do anything without the approval of the senate," he says and I could laugh, knowing what a mess all that has become. "You assume too much."

"We will see."

The address cuts off and she gives me a look, allowing me and only me to see her frustration. One of her first acts upon becoming queen was to name me as both her protector and her military advisor considering my involvement in intergalactic affairs whilst with the order, a new role for a new era of uncertainty, and the second was to change her name to protect our family. I had already changed mine long ago from Rhea Naberrie to Rhea Amidala, but while hers was to protect our family, mine was out of shame.

The great failure of our great family.

Oh how my mother looked at me in horror when Padme decided to change her name to the one I had chosen years before. The family pride and the family disgrace. The Amidala Sisters.

The great Queen, and the great scandal.

I sit by her side as we receive a hologram from Senator Palpatine, and further admire her brilliant patience, it's a shame the roles weren't reversed as she would have made an excellent Jedi. But I was the one with the midichlorian count much to the disappointment of our family.

"Negotiations haven't started because the ambassadors aren't there? How could that be true?" Palpatine asks us. "I have assurances from the chancellor his ambassadors did arrive."

"It's because it isn't true," I answer for my sister, having accompanied my own master on many such missions to know how they work. "The viceroy is conducting dirty business, he-" I stop as the connection becomes disrupted, the hologram distorting before disappearing.

"Senator Palpatine?" Padme asks and we share a confused look. "What's happening?"

"Check the transmission generator," Captain Panaka orders. "A communications disruption can only mean one thing, invasion."

"Dirty bastards," I curse under my breath at the Trade Federation, getting to my feet whilst Padme sits in denial. "We need to intervene, now."

"The Trade Federation would not dare go that far."

"Well, they have," I say frankly, the only one Padme allows to speak so bluntly in her presence. Whilst she took on a new name to protect our families identity it's known by all that I'm her sister and sworn protector as well as advisor.

"The senate would revoke their trade franchises," Panaka argues. "They'd be finished."

"Unless the senate is well, the senate," I reply, unlike Padme having little hope in their running of things. "We cannot sit and argue consequence when they are clearly not thinking of any."

"We must continue to rely on negotiations."

"Negotiations?" One of the ministers questions. "We've lost all communications, and where are the chancellors ambassadors?"

"He's right," I say to Padme, feeling it in my gut. "We must act quickly."

"This is a dangerous situation your highness," Panaka agrees. "Our security volunteers will be no match against a battle hardened federation army."

Her eyes immediately go to me, fourteen and yet still my little sister. "My sister will keep me safe, I trust her instincts, but I will not condone an action that will lead us to war."

I lean in towards her, trying to get her to see that this will not end how she wishes. "We may not have a choice."

She looks at me with the brown eyes we both share and I know she will let this go to war over her dead body.

Alone Padme and I watch as the Trade Federation's army comes, and I plead with her to reconsider her strategy.

"Padme, I know you do not want war but when they bring it to our doorstep we cannot just silently resist," I tell her as she stares out the window. "We must fight back."

She shakes her head. "No, fighting will only lead to death."

"So will this," I tell her, remembering what I was taught. "There is a reason the Republic for all its pacifism has the Jedi as its army, they are peaceful but know when to fight to protect it."

She looks at me, knowing I would not dare defend them unless I was desperate. "The Republic would refute the idea the Jedi are its personal army."

"But it is the truth," I tell her, knowing it better than she ever could. "You were not raised for battle, I was, so believe me when I say we are facing one."

She looks forward again, at the army closing in on the palace. "We only have our security force, we have no army. If I send them to fight they will be slaughtered."

"Then send me," I say and she stills. "If I'm all that stands between the Trade Federation and this planet then so be it, I will not sit by and watch it fall."

She looks at me, her emotions disguised behind the heavy makeup she wears, her handmaidens preparing Sabe to take her place as she reluctantly agrees. "Then you will fight."

I hide in the shadows as she gives herself over in surrender, her security detail disarmed, but someone on Naboo has to be still armed. Someone has to be waiting for the right moment to get her off this planet. I didn't spend my childhood training for a moment like this to fail, not again.

It's been five years since I came home from Coruscant expecting my family to welcome me with open arms only to find them horrified that I had failed what they saw as the ultimate honour. I left the order after watching in horror as they ripped children screaming from their parents arms, after countless fights with my own master and the council over the Jedi's ideology. Because I believed love was more important than what they preached to me, believing I would find it home on Naboo, only to be sorely wrong.

The greatest irony was leaving Depa Billaba, the closest thing to a mother I ever knew for one I hardly remembered. It was only my sisters who welcomed me home with open arms. One who I grew up alongside and another who did not know me, but nonetheless accepted me as her own.

And so in shame I became Rhea Amidala, the lost Jedi who shamed a proud family

Padme is the only purpose I have now, and while she chooses to surrender peacefully the Trade Federation's intentions are nowhere near as peaceful as hers. If I can't get her off this planet then I have to escape alone, I have to call to our allies in the Republic for help since the communications have been lost and the Chancellors ambassadors are nowhere to be found.

Naboo cannot resist an army of battle droids, not alone, and I have no qualms about walking into a room of politicians on Coruscant and demanding action.

From the upstairs balcony I watch our people being herded and rounded up until a movement in the river catches my eye and see a submarine surface that does not belong to the Trade Federation, and my eyes narrow in disbelief at the man who emerges from it.

Qui-Gon Jinn?

It seems we have not been abandon afterall.

Quickly I move from the balcony to follow their movements and catch voices from the stairwell where the Viceryoy is arresting Padme.

"How will you explain this invasion to the senate?"

"The queen and I will sign a treaty that will legitimise our occupation here."

Now that she certainly won't do.

I feel for the blaster at my belt and debate opening fire, but I have no saber to deflect the battle droids fire and no clear path of escape for Padme and her handmaidens, not yet at least, and so I sneak along the open corridors above the courtyard, following them until I catch movement just nearby, two Jedi and a Gungan.

Taking a risk I poke my head up and they spot me, the younger man a few years older than myself sees me first, not a Jedi that I recognise, but he taps his master on the arm to bring his attention to me with wide eyes, clearly not having expected anyone to still be walking free, and point for them to follow me.

They meet me along the overhead pass where Padme and the others are about to pass below surrounded by battle droids. The younger one raises his saber, as if in question, and I nod raising my blaster. Not a moment later we jump down onto the street below, the sound of sabers so strange to me after so long as I take out the remaining droids with my silenced blaster.

"Your highness," I say, checking Sabe over to not give anything away before I check on Padme and she gives me a nod to assure me she's alright.

"We should leave the street, your highness," Qui-Gon says and I keep my head low, knowing he is one of the few masters who could still recognise me, Jedi like ourselves who cause as much trouble for the council as we do, or rather did, tend to become acquainted.

"Get their weapons," I order what's left of Padme's security, Sabe disguised as Queen Amidala is ushered forward and I check on Padme again as I hand her a blaster, knowing I taught her how to use one and to use it well.

"Jedi?" she asks and I nod, briefly meeting the eyes of the padawan as we keep moving forward until we are out of sight. "Do you know them?"

Quietly I hush her despite the looks we get and Master Qui-Gon tells us as we reach cover "We're ambassadors for the Supreme Chancellor," Qui-Gon tells us.

"And I am the queen's protector," I reply and search his eyes for any sense of recognition, if he remembers me he doesn't give it away. "I take it negotiations didn't go as planned?"

"The negotations were short," the padawan remarks and I meet his eye again, still not recognising him but he looks to have been a few years above my class.

"In fact they never took place," Qui-Gon tells us. "It's urgent that we make contact with the Republic."

"They've knocked out communications," I tell him, right now wishing her damn council had listened to me when I warned them something wasn't right. "They have no plans to allow us to contact the Republic until the queen has signed a document legalising the invasion."

"Do you have transports?"

"In the main hanger," Panaka answers and points. "This way."

I walk beside the padawan as Panaka guides Padme and her detail into the hanger where others have already been gathered to talk strategy.

"There seems to be no actual fighters on the Federations side," I tell the two Jedi. "Just battle droids."

"There's still too many of them," Panaka says but he doesn't know what Jedi are capable of.

"That won't be a problem," Qui Gon says and turns to Sabe. "Your highness under the circumstances I suggest you come to Coruscant with us."

"Thank you ambassador," she replies while I shake my head at both of them in warning. "But my place is with my people."

"Queen Amidala, I must protest," I say, looking both of them in the eye. "You won't be much good to your people dead, you need to address the senate."

"They need her to sign a treaty to make this invasion legal," Panaka reminds us. "They can't afford to kill her."

My voice is harsh. "No but they can torture her into signing it."

I feel a coldness wash over Padme

"There's something else behind all this," Qui-Gon says to Sabe. "Your Highness there's no logic in the Federations move here. My feelings tell me they will destroy you."

"I agree," I say jumping in before anyone else can. "I feel it too although none of you were willing to listen when this blockade began."

"Now is not the time for hysterics Lady Amidala," Panaka chastises.

"And now is not the time for the queen to become a martyr," I retort. "The queen trusts my feelings even if you may not and I can assure you now is the time to act and survive."

None of the handmaidens react, each of them knowing my past, but I get a strange look from the padawan, Qui-Gon simply looks amused.

"Our only hope is for the senate to side with us," Padme's advisor says. "Senator Palpatine will need your help."

"Either choice presents grave danger to us all," Sabe says and looks to Padme for guidance.

"We are brave, your highness," Padme replies.

"If you are to leave your highness, it must be now," Qui-Gon says and Sabe looks to me, knowing Padme looks to me as well, and I nod in agreement.

"Then I will plead our case to the senate."

"Thank the maker," I murmur under my breath. "Now let's leave."

I follow the Jedi into the hanger, walking in front of Sabe with my blaster in hand as Panaka instructs "We will need to free those pilots."

"I'll deal with that," the padawan says and I follow him, firing as he ignites his saber, freeing the pilots and directing them to the ship as he finishes off the droids. "That should be it."

"No, it's not," I say grabbing him by the wrist as another squadron of battle droids emerge and order him "Cover me until we get the pilots on board."

He gives a quick nod and does as I ask, using his saber to deflect the blaster fire, covering me for long enough I can take out most of the droids by blaster until everyone is safely on board the ship.

"Come on!" I say and we finally jump onboard as more droids come, electing for escape rather than fighting and Qui-Gon who's been protecting the others follows us onboard, the last to get on before the ramp raises.

I put my blaster back in its holster as it shuts and we take off, meeting the padawan's eyes as we let out a breath of relief and everyone collects themselves, thankfully Qui-Gon doesn't stop to ask questions as he heads to speak to the pilot, leaving his apprentice with me.

He's handsome, certainly on the brink of becoming a Jedi Knight judging by his age and I clear my throat before I say "I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he answers shaking my hand, the name still not familiar. "Jedi Padawan."

"Rhea Amidala," I reply. "The Queen's sister."

"Ah," he says, it now making sense to him why I'd be the one trying to order her about. "I take it you didn't agree with the surrender?"

"Someone had to be armed," I reply at how he found me but know it's a miracle no one but I spotted them arriving. "Nice submarine by the way, stealthy."

"You saw that?" he exclaims, now slightly embarrassed as he picks up the sarcasm in my voice, and I just laugh.

"Not as sly as you thought huh?" I tease with a raised eyebrow and immediately know by how he stiffens up at being jested with that he truly is one of those who's painfully devoted to the code, surprising considering who his master is. "Come on, they'll need us in the cockpit."

He follows me into it and I come to Panaka's side as he shows us the blockade, only to find myself hanging on to the back of a chair as an alarm starts blaring and the Federation launches their attack.

"Shield generators been hit!"

I try to stay calm as the droids are dispatched to the roof, but it's not a pretty sight as they continue to be shot off and I find myself looking at Master Qui-Gon, he doesn't seem awfully worried and I have to trust his judgement more than my own.

"We're losing droids fast," Obi-Wan says and we share a brief look of concern at the dire situation we've quickly found ourselves in.

"If we can't get the shield generator fixed we'll be sitting ducks."

I jump as another droid is blown off and they announce. "The shields are gone."

Immediately I turn to security. "Get the queen and her handmaidens towards the escape pod, and don't tell them why otherwise she'll fight with you, go!"

But before they can go to Padme we hear "Power's back! That little droid did it, he bypassed the main power drive."

"Never underestimate a droid," Qui Gon tells the captain, ironic considering its battle droids we're facing.

"Now get us out of here," I say but before we're in the clear there's another problem.

"There's not enough power to get us to coruscant, the hyperdrive's leaking."

I just shake my head as Qui Gon says "We'll have to land somewhere to refuel and repair the ship."

"Here master," Obi-Wan calls out. "Tatooine." I walk over to look at his screen. "It's small, out of the way, poor. The Trade Federation have no presence here."

"How can you be sure?"

"It's controlled by the Hutts."

"Do it," I agree and tell the captain. "Tatooine, we have no time to waste."

"You can't take the royal highness there!" Panaka argues. "The Tutts are gangsters."

"They still bleed like the rest of us don't they?" I argue, knowing the Federation will be scouring the sector for us and I'd take my luck with them over battle droids. "What would you rather? Hutts or her being captured by the Federation?"

"Lady Amidala, you might be her protector but I am her chief of security-"

"I am her sister!" I snap back, having been sent to negotiate in enough diplomatic messes to know what awaits her if captured. "Her safety is my only priority and you are taking your orders from me, we are landing on Tatooine."

Qui-Gon puts a hand on my shoulder, his voice calm as he speaks to Panaka. "It would be no different than if we landed on a system controlled by the Federation. Except that the Hutt's aren't looking for her, which gives us the advantage."

And with that it's settled, no one would argue with a true Jedi and feel Qui-Gons eyes on me, knowing from the careful look he gives that he does indeed remember me.

"I'm sure the queen's sister was not questioning your authority Captain Panaka," he says, even now sticking up for me as he often did then. "But merely acting out of love."

"And what is more important than love?" I find myself saying.

"Balance."

Obi-Wan looks between us confused but I find relief in Qui-Gon being here, of all the Jedi that could have come I have faith in him.

"Exactly, which is why love is just as important as apathy," I say, remembering the words I spoke five years ago. "For balance." I look between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and clear my throat. "Thank you for coming to my sister's aid."

"I dare say you had it half-handled by the time we got there," Qui-Gon says. "You are a talented combatant."

"Well, I'm not much else but that," I say almost bitterly and look at the radar. "Come, we better get the R2 droid who saved our lives before he's blown off like the others."

I stand back with Obi-Wan as Panaka presents the droid to Sabe, despite Qui-Gon recognising me instantly his padawan is still oblivious to the fact he's standing beside one of his own.

"Without a doubt it saved the ship as well as our lives."

"It is to be commended," Sabe says. "What is its number?"

"R2-D2, your highness."

I can't help but smile. "Thank you, R2-D2."

I can feel Obi-Wan's eyes lingering on me, confused by my exchange with Qui-Gon but it's hardly as if he'd assume I was once a Jedi. It's something I've tried to forget myself despite just how integral it is to my very core.

"Padme clean this droid up as best you can, it deserves our gratitude."

Padme takes the R2 unit while Sabe gives permission for Qui-Gon to come forth and speak.

"Your highness, your sister Rhea has already given her approval and with your permission we're heading for a remote planet called Tatooine. It's in a system far beyond the reach of the Trade Federation."

"I do not agree with the Jedi on this," Panaka argues and I speak up.

"I do. I trust Master Qui-Gon's judgement."

Panaka knows well my past, as to the most important members of padme's security, and whilst he's hesitant to listen to my judgement Padme trusts it completely and with that it is settled but I still feel the Padawan's inquisitive eyes on me and so I meet them, holding his gaze as I leave the room.

I sit alone with Padme, helping her clean up R2.

"Do you know the Jedi?" she asks me now we're alone.

"Master Qui-Gon is a Jedi I respect greatly, he has views different to the council, similar to mine," I tell her, remembering him well. "He was not my master but he took it upon himself to mentor me at times, and so he no doubt recognises me although he has not said anything. As for his Padawan I can't say I do, although there we many of us and he seems to be older than I."

She nods and asks "Do you still regret leaving?"

The question surprises me, it's always been a forbidden topic amongst our family, but it's just us now. She was just a baby when I was taken by the order, whilst Sola and I reconnected with tears I was a stranger to her, but thankfully five years have remedied that.

"Sometimes," I admit to her. "I miss having a purpose, in some ways I miss the family the Jedi are at its core, but its ideology... it was my master who in fact encouraged me to leave. She said how I viewed things was not wrong, and that I had the potential to be a great Jedi but that my mind and heart were too strong for the council." I reach across and squeeze her hand. "That is one thing we have in common, our headstrong minds and hearts, it's like arguing with a stone wall. Even at fourteen they knew I'd be too much trouble. Just like you are now."

She smiles. "I wouldn't call myself trouble."

"Oh but you are," I smile fondly. "Be proud of it."

She looks behind me and I follow her eyes to find Qui-Gon. "Rhea, may I have a word?"

"Of course master," I say and Padme leaves us.

He's unsure of what to say at first, still surprised to have come across me. "Sister of the queen, is this what you're doing now? Causing trouble for yet another poor unfortunate council?"

"I don't intend to but somehow I always seem to, much like yourself," I say, smiling to myself. "It is a relief to see you Master, it truly is."

"I'm surprised you were so welcoming, considering how you left," he tells me and my smile fades. "You were five or so when they found you weren't you? Many argued you were too old to be trained."

"To be indoctrinated," I correct. "I was six with two loving parents and two sisters. My parents gave me up seeing it as an honour but I was taken from everything I'd ever known and loved only to be told I was not allowed to love anymore, that my very emotions were poison."

He nods in understanding. "Yes, that is the great irony isn't it? We are meant to love all, have unlimited compassion and yet not for anyone in particular."

"You see," I breathe out in relief. "It's madness."

"It's order," he quickly corrects, but does admit. "Too much order. Even Obi-Wan my own padawan pleads with me not to go against the council. Do you remember him?"

"No," I answer, shaking my head. "At least I don't think so."

"That's fair, he is older than you," he says and tells me "I'm afraid he does not have much left to learn from me, and I know your Master Billaba still feels the loss of her own padawan."

I let out a humourless laugh, trying to push back those feelings of regret. "I left to find my parents and yet they didn't want me back, I loved them and they loved me but viewed me leaving the most prestigious order in the galaxy as a great shame whilst grooming my sister to be queen."

"You love her greatly," he states. "But you feel no purpose."

His words cut deep because they are true. "Are my emotions so obvious?"

"Very," he says. "But you always did feel greatly, you had a great passion for justice that I remember well, a instinctual need to protect."

I look away, knowing it was that very thing that caused me to be expelled from the order, even if I said I left, even if that's what I told my parents and everyone else, I know the truth and so does he.

"We must be getting close to Tatooine," I say clearing my throat and he follows me into the cockpit where Obi-Wan sits with the pilot as they prepare to land.

"That's it, Tatooine."

"There's a settlement."

"Land near the outskirts. We don't want to attract attention."

Qui-Gon takes over and I follow his padawan to the see the state of the shield generator for myself, not liking any of this but knowing she is safe enough here until we can get it working.

"I'm afraid I'm not one for mechanics," I tell him as we examine it. "But it's not good is it?"

"The hyperdrive generator is gone, we'll need a new one," he tells me and I sigh knowing in the outer rims very little is done for the Jedi out of the kindness of peoples hearts.

"Ilooks like we might be doing business with the Tutt's after all," I remark as Qui-Gon walks in.

"Well that will complicate things," he says and warns "Be wary, I sense a disturbance in the force."

Obi-Wan nods. "I feel it also master."

I look away, surprised despite my years disconnected to also feel that something isn't quite right. The one thing I've retained from my training is my gut instinct and talent for combat, a warrior on a pacifist planet.

"Don't let them send any transmissions," Qui-Gon instructs and says to me "Rhea, I recommend you stay with the ship, if any troubles come this way two Jedi are better than one."

Obi-Wan's head whips around to me "What?"

Qui-Gon leaves as quickly as he came giving me a look that can only be described as a very intentional oops, leaving it for me to explain.

"I'm sorry did I hear that right?" Obi-Wan asks me. "Jedi?"

I hang my head, finding it difficult to confess after so long. "I was."

His eyebrows narrow together, his voice softening. "Was?"

"Rhea Naberrie," I tell him, the name I was called then. "I- Qui-Gon was just pulling your leg, I was a padawan but I was never a real Jedi."

Many younglings and padawans do not make it to the rank of Jedi, many are sent to the service corps if the council does not believe they have the aptitude despite having the force so it's not unusual for there to be failed Jedi, but he's intune enough to know it's not that type of situation.

"But you know him," he says and presses "And he knows you."

"Yes, you're correct," I stiffly acknowledge but thankfully we're interrupted by Rabe before I have to explain anything. "Yes Rabe?"

"Lady Amidala," she anxiously begins. "Padme has gone with Master Qui-Gon."

"What?" I blurt out and she stammers.

"She insisted upon going with him."

"Of course she has," I sigh, knowing she wouldn't just sit on board, that she has to be out there doing something to help remedy this situation and bite back my frustration. "Thank you."

She leaves and I bring a hand to my forehead, wishing she at least told me first so I could go with her, but Qui-Gon is right in needing us to protect the ship.

"Rhea?" Obi-Wan asks, concerned.

"Sorry she-" I laugh at the irony. "I was just telling Padme she's just as much trouble as I was at her age and to be proud of it, but oh it's not as fun being the one dealing with trouble."

"Do you want to go after her?" he asks me and I shake my head.

"No, Master Qui-Gon is right, we need to stay with the ship," I decide, for once in my life following orders considering all her handmaidens are on board and Padme would be devastated if any were to be harmed. "She will be safe with them, and it's best I'm here in case there's any trouble. I trust Qui-Gon's judgement."

"So you do know him," he says and notices how I tense. "You were a Jedi."

"A padawan," I correct and realise we are indeed having this conversation and so I spit it out. "I left the order."

He's absolutely bewildered and can't hide the judgement in his voice. "Why?"

I let out a dangerous laugh, knowing not to get into this. "Oh no, today is not the day for an ideological argument."

"Ideology? You sound like my master."

"Good, because he's the one who mentored me," I reply much to his surprise. "Oh come on, a troublesome young padawan with a big mouth and tough head, someone had to."

He sighs, indeed matching what Qui-Gon told me. "Of course he did, but- but why didn't he train you then?"

"He had you it seems and I already had a master, Master Billaba," I tell him and lean against the broken generator. "She was like a mother to me, wise and strict but fair, she wasn't as wrapped up in the ideology as much as some of the others."

"Like who?"

"Yoda," I answer, almost scoffing at how obvious it should be.

"You can't insult Master Yoda," he scoffs back at me.

"I can insult anyone I like, and Yoda might be old and supposedly wise but he's too caught up in the nonsense to allow any sort of reform," I argue, having indeed stumbled into an ideological argument with this padawan. "The Jedi Order needs to grow and evolve instead of being stuck in its archaic ways, being Qui-Gons padawan I know you know what I mean."

He lets out a frustrated sigh. "Of course I know what you mean and I don't disagree, but to leave the order over it-"

"I didn't have a choice," I grit out, reliving the argument I had with my mother years ago and back track. "I was taken older than most and from the moment I was taken there all I heard from the council was to cease attachment, 'oh the girl is dangerous because she misses her mother.'"

"But attachment is dangerous-"

"I was a kid!" I end up snapping at him.

"We all were," he argues back. "We all had family but it was our duty-"

"Duty? What duty did we have as children? We were kidnapped and indoctrinated, I was old enough when I was taken to remember it. If it was up to them they'd have us no more sentient than those damned battle droids!"

He scoffs. "Battle droids? You mean what the Jedi have just saved you from?"

"I was doing perfectly fine before you came," I refute.

"Is that why everyone had been rounded up by the Trade Federation?"

I laugh dangerously. "Classic Jedi, thinking you know everything, so frustratingly arrogant, and wasn't it your job as the Chancellors ambassadors to prevent that from happening in the first place?"

"I'm sorry, but as a military advisor isn't it your job to prevent us from having to get involved?"

"It's a little hard when my planet won't allow a military to be built!"

"And that's my problem?"

"Yes!" I exclaim. "It is the Republic's job to protect the planets within it and it's your job as their army to enforce that!"

"We aren't the Republics-"

"Then why are you here?" I retort, gesturing about to our surroundings. "If it isn't your problem, and you aren't doing the Republics bidding then why are you here?"

"Because it is the job of a Jedi to protect the innocent," he finishes and I clamp my mouth shut. "Only someone consumed by their hatred would think otherwise."

"Hatred?" I repeat, truly astounded that he sees everything so black and white to interpret justified anger as hatred. "My home has just been invaded and my sister's life is in danger and we are stranded on a planet in the outer rims hoping we'll come across what we need to fix the engine to get off here before the Trade Federation begins killing people." Now he's the one who clamps his jaw shut. "And I would rather not be standing here being interrogated by a padawan who should be doing his job instead of criticising me for leaving a corrupt organisation I don't agree with."

He sighs, realising fighting with me will only lead to more fighting rather than a victory and says "My master sees its flaws but he doesn't leave it, he works with them to help people."

"Then I applaud him, he is a good man," I say, our respect for Qui-Gon being the only common ground between us. "But I help my people in other ways, which is what I'm trying to do now."

I turn my back on him and he reluctantly follows as I march back through the ship to the cockpit for an update. "Have you heard from Master Qui-Gon?"

"Not yet my lady," they answer and I'm tempted to go after them but remember why I must stay.

"So we sit and wait," I find myself muttering.

"Yes," Obi-Wan says and his sarcasm is enough to make me want to leave this ship regardless. "Perhaps you could meditate, maker knows you need to."

"Or perhaps you could keep your nose where it belongs."

"Gladly," he says but before either of us can leave the cockpit a transmission comes through from Qui-Gon and we reluctantly share the same air as we listen to their dilemma, realising we lack the currency to negotiate with the Tatooine.

"Are you sure there's nothing left on board?"

"A few containers of supplies," Obi-Wan says, calmer than I am. "The queens wardrobe maybe but not enough to barter with, not in the amount you're talking about."

"There's little on board, everything of worth remains on Naboo," I say, frustrated. "Can you force their hand?"

"I'm afraid I cannot," he answers as Obi-Wan shakes his head at me for suggesting methods that are not the Jedi way. "But it's alright, I'm sure another solution will present itself. I'll check back later."

It goes silent and Obi-Wan and I sit there together, the tension between us thick as I wish I'd just gone with Qui-Gon, knowing I'd be better use there than arguing with his padawan.

Obi-Wan's the first to break the tension "Are you sure there is nothing we can barter with?"

"Not enough to buy a shield generator with," I mutter as the direness of the situation truly hits me. "We need to get the queen to the senate."

"I know," he assures me, his voice becoming lighter when he feels the pure anxiety that begins to fill me. "And we will and in the meantime, like you said, she's safer here than on Naboo."

"Well, I'm not wrong," I say but still shake my head. "I don't like sitting here and waiting for a solution to present itself."

"You said you trust Master Qui-Gon's judgement," he says and implores "I myself question it at times but we must both trust it now."

"It's not your master's judgement I question," I assure him, my anger forgotten. "It's the senates will to act on this invasion."

I expect him to blindly defend the senate but he surprises me "Politicians will be politicians, I don't trust him and you're smart enough not to either, but you must have faith that we will find a solution to the Trade Federations attack."

"My sister's only been queen for a few months, she's fourteen and facing the worst catastrophe in living memory," I lament, knowing this is not what she should be dealing with and yet she has taken it upon herself with nothing but grace. "She's brilliant and I have full faith in her, but I worry others will not listen to a fourteen year old girls demands for action."

He doesn't dismiss my concerns and instead says "Well with you advocating for her I dare say they'll be forced to listen or else be brutally rebuked until they have no choice but to agree to your demands."

I smile to myself and see a glimpse of one on his own face as I admit "Well, you aren't wrong."

Our eyes meet and this time it's different, there's no distrust or hostility and he's the bigger person in saying "I'm sorry for arguing, I should have listened when you warned me against it."

"Don't apologise, you didn't know what you were getting into," I admit and force myself to follow his example. "Although I am sorry as well, you have not faulted in your duty to help us."

I reserve my temperament for those who refuse to listen, I thought he was one of those until now but he's proven me wrong in my own misgivings.

"Let's start over," he says and I wonder if he's thinking the same about me as he extends his hand. "Obi-Wan Kenobi."

I look at it still slightly hesitant but trust my instincts when they tell me to trust him. "Rhea Amidala."

He offers me a gentle smile, and as I take his hand I can feel the force, can feel a good old soul in him, a light that's so rare even amongst the Jedi that it stuns me. A light I'd convinced myself wasn't real, but here it is in front of me.

And perhaps for the first time I care what someone else thinks of me as I hope he sees the same in me.

#obi wan kenobi x oc #illicit affairs #wildfirewildflower #obi wan kenobi x amidala!oc #obi wan kenobi x f!oc #obi wan kenobi x original character #obi-wan kenobi x oc #obi-wan kenobi x original character #obi-wan kenobi fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fanfiction

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tatooinebarnes · 1 year

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As It Was - Obi-Wan Kenobi (Part 2)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Gender Neutral Original Character

Part 1 or Read in full on AO3

Word Count: 16k

See Part 1 for full tags and description

Part 2 (Chapter 8-13)

Ch. 8 - Goodbye, Old Friend

We were falling, both scrambling to right ourselves, but only succeeding in making the situation worse. A comically large gust of wind from a speeder had swept through the flora covered ravine, knocking us off the pathway on which we’d been walking. Obviously this happened often because the landing was soft, a gravity cushion catching us.

Breathless, Obi-Wan was hovering above me, his face inches from mine.

“Darling,” he said, his tone mischievous, “we have to stop getting into such compromising situations.”

“I think this is the first time this has happened,” I stated, pretending not to be bothered even though I knew he could hear my heart beating out of my chest.

“Perhaps,” he laughed, his eyes crinkling, “I just wanted to say that because I knew it would make you flustered.”

I blushed, “Well it worked.”

“So do I get to kiss you now?”

“Must you always be so polite?”

“Always darling, always,” he said before pressing his lips to mine.

“If I look down there and I see two people snogging I will be absolutely livid,” Anakin’s voice suddenly crackled on Obi-Wan’s commlink, bitterness tinging it, “Master, you’re supposed to be hunting General Grievous are you not?

Obi-Wan rolled off me with a dramatic sigh. I looked over at him, giggling.

“You have lipstick on your face.”

“Since when do you wear lipstick?” he said, wiping at his face.

“Since I was requested to attend a ‘gala’ as ‘security’ tonight on Coruscant’s party moon” I said, my tone laced with sarcasm.

“Well fortunately,” Obi-Wan said as he helped me up, “it looks like you don’t have any grass stains on you.”

“How fortunate,” I grinned, kissing him again.

“And for me too because I can’t be showing up to get rid of our favorite cyborg general with grass stains on my outfit.”

“Somehow I think grass stains are the least of your problems.”

“Do you know this ravine has incredible acoustics?” Anakin’s voice came on my comm this time, “get your asses up here.”

“I think he’s annoyed with us.”

“Potentially.”

Laughing over each other, we hiked up and out of the ravine to where Anakin was waiting with his arms crossed.

“You two are like younglings in the temple who’ve just discovered the best makeout spot.”

Obi-Wan turned a dark shade of scarlet but said nothing. I doubted any other former Padawan had ever said something so snarky to their former Master and lived to tell the tale.

“And you would know that, how Anakin?” I teased.

As I had intended, Anakin also turned a bright shade of red.

“Now that we’ve all had our verbal accoustings out of the way, we really do have to be on our way,” I said cheerily and walked off to where our speeder was waiting.

Anakin and Obi-Wan looked at each other like they were siblings who’d just been told off for arguing in public.

“Get in!” I motioned as the speeder roared to life.

The wind whipped past us, causing my braids to fly up around me and bat Anakin in the face. Obi-Wan laughed, the sound lost behind us almost before I had a chance to savor it. Anakin was trying to complain that I should be required to tie my braids back when piloting a speeder but I just flipped the speeder’s receiver to blast music from one of Coruscant’s lower levels, tuning into a frequency that spit out a cacophony of sounds. I mimed that I couldn’t hear him and he frowned, but soon his face broke into a grin at the ridiculousness of the music.

As we neared to the hanger where Obi-Wan would board the Negotiator, Ahsoka’s silhouette became visible, her arms crossed over her chest.

“What took you all so long to get here from the Council chambers?” Ahsoka yelled over the sound of the music.

“Not my fault I was put in charge of these two love-birds,” Anakin said under his breath so only Obi-Wan and I could hear.

I elbowed Anakin in the ribs and Obi-Wan frowned deeply. He hated when Anakin said anything about us aloud, even if discreetly.

“Come on,” Ahsoka said, grabbing my elbow and dragging me from the speeder, “You need to get going to Hesperidium.”

“I’ve got plenty of time if I’ve got this,” I patted the yellow speeder fondly.

“Nope. Speeder’s mine. I’m Anakin’s ride. Plus you have grass stains on your robes - you have to change.

“Damnit,” I cursed, as the color rose in my cheeks.

We were standing slightly apart from Anakin and Obi-Wan, but from Obi-Wan’s tone I knew to give them a moment. Even after all these years he was still Anakin’s Master.

“-Be patient, Anakin. It will not be long before the Council makes you a Jedi Master.”

Anakin nodded as he turned to go, pausing once more, “Obi-Wan, may the Force be with you.”

“Good-bye, old friend. May the Force be with you,” Obi-Wan said as he watched Anakin go.

A chill went through me, the air suddenly taught with finality. Nobody else seemed to notice it, something in the Force shifting uncomfortably. Even as I watched Anakin walk away I couldn’t shake the feeling.

“Anakin, wait!” I called.

He turned back, nothing in his behavior out of place, just the ever chaotic energy rolling off him as it normally did.

“What?” he asked, as a small crease formed between his eyebrows.

I ran to throw my arms around him, tackling him in an unsuspecting hug. Cautiously he returned the gesture, his frame towering over mine.

“What’s this about?” he said, his tone suspicious.

From the corner of my eye I saw Obi-Wan raise his eyebrows and felt Ahsoka’s Force presence push questions at me.

“Thank you for- for everything. For being a part of my family,” I said, not knowing where the words were coming from but knowing I needed to say them.

“Okay….?” he said, forming it as a question.

“I just hope you know that. All of you,” I said turning to Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, “I cannot imagine life without you.”

“Cecil-” Ahsoka started.

“No really,” I interrupted and gave her a hug too, “I mean it when I say I wouldn’t have been able to get through this war without you.”

“It isn’t over yet,” Obi-Wan said quietly, ever the pessimist.

“But we’re closer than we’ve ever been,” Anakin said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “and you need to go and finish it,” he said, sending a barely disguised glare at Obi-Wan.

“Bitterness won’t get you anywhere Anakin. The Council wants you here for a reason,” Obi-Wan started, the lecturing tone re-entering his voice.

Anakin huffed and crossed his arms but didn’t respond.

“May the Force be with you,” I nodded in finality after a brief moment of silence.

Both Anakin and Ahsoka nodded, smiling widely before hopping in the speeder. When it roared to life, Ahsoka turned the music up even further much to Anakin’s annoyance. They waved before zipping off into the late afternoon light.

“What was that about?” Obi-Wan said as he turned to me, his demeanor instantly less guarded.

“I felt something,” I whispered, “Something in the Force. It felt like an ending.”

“The ending to this war?” Obi-Wan grinned.

“No. Not in a good way. Something sinister,” I said, struggling for the right words.

“Oh,” he said, voice soft.

“But it will all be fine,” I said cheerily, “Everything will work out.”

The look on Obi-Wan’s face told me he didn’t believe my optimism either, “Be careful out there Cecil,” he said, leaning almost imperceptibly towards me.

Now was the appropriate time to nod goodbye and walk away, but it felt so much like a tragic ending that I couldn’t make myself do it. Instead I threw my arms around him, not caring who saw. He stiffened for a moment before melting, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in the crook of my neck.

“Everything will be fine,” he whispered, his voice muffled.

“I hope so,” I whispered back, not wanting to let go.

Obi-Wan broke the hug first, but he didn’t let go of me. He grasped my hands in his, briefly bringing them to his lips.

“I love you Cecil Palmarin. Whatever happens these next few days, just know I love you.”

I sighed, suddenly tears pricking at my eyes. I focused on the feeling of his hands holding mine, imagining that in another life he’d have the softest hands. But in this life - the one riddled by war and chaos - I loved the way they felt around mine, calloused palms that mirrored my own. I sniffed loudly and cleared my throat in an attempt to steady my voice, “I love you too.”

He nodded curtly like he had never doubted it for a second. I kissed him on the cheek and turned away, not doubting it either.

------

Ch. 9 - Order Sixty-Six

The explosion had blown the windows out of the building and sent me flying out the now gaping opening. There was a momentary eerie silence where alarms blared and glass scattered as I hung by my fingertips out of a Coruscant highrise. A comm outside the door, assumingly the one belonging to the trooper that had thrown the bomb into my room, blared the same message repeatedly in an eerily familiar voice: “Execute Order 66.”

And then it was a blur. More Clones flooded the room, their tones making it clear they meant to kill me. Confusion swirled in my brain as my body went on autopilot, letting go of the ledge on its own accord, landing lightly on a small outcropping a story below. In a daze I maneuvered my way to the roof where I knew there’d be extra speeders. I barely remember getting there and finding that there were no speeders, but something better: a ship. I couldn’t even stop to think about how that was my battalion of Clones trying to kill me - my soldiers who had saved my life countless times were trying to kill me.

Nothing settled into focus again until I landed on Polis Massa and ran into Obi-Wan’s arms. The weight of the day momentarily lifted in his embrace, knowing that he was here, safe and alive because the same could not be said for many others. A sob escaped me and I crumpled, tears streaking my face.

“You made it,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice ragged with emotion.

“I did,” I whispered back, still grasping him like a lifeline, “And Anakin?”

“Gone,” he choked out, “And Ahsoka’s still missing.”

“And Padmé?” I asked, sensing I already knew the answer.

Obi-Wan didn’t reply but pulled away so he could look at me, his eyes brimming with tears. My heart jolted; I’d never seen Obi-Wan cry.

His hands reached up to my face, carefully folding my now frizzy braids behind my ears. He held my face for a moment before kissing my forehead.

“Come. We have much to do before we send the twins away,” he said, his voice strained with effort. He always did have a knack for diving into the tasks at hand when things got hard.

“Twins?” I said, my voice flying up an octave.

He almost smiled, the sparkle of light I was so used to returning to his eyes momentarily “Leia and Luke Skywalker.”

“Don’t leave me,” I whispered, suddenly feeling the weight of the impending loneliness as we stood just outside a landing bay.

Out there, I knew Bail stood waiting for Obi-Wan, waiting to hand him little Luke Skywalker to take to Tatooine, but I couldn’t pull myself away. Despite everything we had survived in the last day, I didn’t want these moments to end. Because to end this day, to walk away from these horrors would mean goodbye. It would mean walking away from a family I could never hope to have again. I was about to lose the one person I had for so long called home even as they were already beyond my reach.

“My darling,” Obi-Wan whispered back, his hands reaching to cup my face, eyes searching mine, “You have me. Until the last star in the galaxy dies, you have me.”

I choked down another sob, “I know.”

“Good,” he said, pressing his lips to my forehead before speaking once more, “May the Force be with you.”

“What do I do now?” I asked, unable to tear my gaze away from Obi-Wan’s retreating figure as Master Yoda appeared next to me.

“Become the Rebellion you do,” Master Yoda said solemnly, “Come to pass an era of light will, but first endure this darkness we must.”

I watched Obi-Wan go, his robes catching an imperceptible wind as he walked away. When he finally reached the ship he turned and looked one more time. He nodded and I felt his presence reach out in the Force, not even caring if Master Yoda was there to witness it: “I love you,” the feeling said. I said it back, letting every feeling I’ve had for him flow into the words.

I swore I saw another smug grin form on Master Yoda’s face and could almost feel him thinking that Anakin was not the only one to fall in love during this war. But I couldn’t be sure because I was wiping away tears as the ship took off. The last piece of my family, gone. Padmé dead. Anakin dead. Or worse, a sinister part of my brain whispered. The Jedi scattered across the galaxy. The Republic in shambles. Order completely lost.

It would never be the same as it was.

a/n: “You have me. Until the last star in the galaxy dies, you have me” is a quote from “Illuminae” by Amie Kaufman. I’ve never read the book but I just adore that line and how well it fits into the Star Wars Universe.

--------

Ch. 10 - Ben and Cece

It had been ten years.

I hadn’t seen his face in ten years.

But here he was flashing on my holopad as a wanted enemy of the Empire: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

I almost sobbed when I saw it. Out of fear yes, but mostly of relief he was still alive. Not an hour later I got a message from Senator Organa with a request to join him on Alderaan.

I sat staring at the now silent holocom, the message gone after it played once. Something must be terribly wrong if Bail wanted me to leave my post. He knew what I was doing for the Rebellion and leaving the position unprotected was dangerous, reckless even. But doable.

A panic stricken flight to Alderon was not how I had been anticipating this day to go, but I made it. Safely docking in the private landing bay Bail had sent me to, I attempted to stretch my feelings out, feeling for something amiss. To my surprise I felt nothing. So much nothing it was almost alarming. I hadn’t felt that sort of peace in years, nearly a decade-

And that’s when I saw him.

He was standing with his back to me, the sunset beaming beyond him. The slowly fading rays of sunshine illuminated his hair making it appear red, his robes almost reminiscent of a time long before. He turned to face me at the exact moment my gaze landed on him and our eyes locked.

And then I was running across the landing pad, the last ten years disappearing because Obi-Wan Kenobi was right here. Right now.

I all but leapt into his arms, my cry of joy only muffled by the sound of his laughter. He picked me up and spun me around, warmth flooding the Force around me. I had forgotten what it was like to feel so loved.

“You’re here! How are you here?” I gasped when he set me down, holding me at arm’s length.

“I’m just a little bit more tricky to catch than the Empire thought,” he laughed, his eyes crinkling.

“But Bail was so worried. He thought that you were gone and that Leia-” I began, anxiously reaching up to smooth his hair out of his face, my hands coming to rest on his chest.

“And he was very nearly right. But she’s safe. She’s here.”

“She is?” I said, unable to keep my voice steady because I hadn’t thought this day could get better. Frankly I had expected this day to be terrible.

“Would you like to meet her?” he grinned, humor filling his voice, “She’s grown up to be so much like them.”

My heart twisted at the way he said ‘them,’ knowing he was not speaking of the Organas. He was talking about Padmé’s knack for leadership, her fierceness. He was talking about Anakin’s pride, his loyalty. Even with the joy rolling from Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force I could feel the twinge of sadness beneath.

Before I could answer I was interrupted by a little girl running across the platform - a little girl who could be no one but Leia.

“Ben! Ben! You forgot this!” she cried running up to us with a satchel in hand.

I stepped away from Obi-Wan, suddenly feeling self-conscious of our proximity. But there was no reason to be. The Jedi Order was no more and to Leia, I was just a stranger.

“Oh thank you,” he smiled, accepting the package, “I would be desolate without my dinner on my way home.”

Leia giggled, “I think you’d probably be just fine. But I wanted to make sure you got some dinner since you won’t stay and eat with us.

Obi-Wan looked down at her sadly, his eyes flickering to me, “I can’t Leia. It’s dangerous for me to stay here too long.”

“I understand,” she said, nodding matter-a-factly. Then she turned her gaze on me, “And who are you? Are you a Jedi too?”

“Why would you say that?” I asked, unable to keep the smile off my face.

“You remind me of Ben. I don’t know how but you do. Just something in the air,” she said like it was obvious.

I exchanged a look with Obi-Wan. He grinned.

“You’re very perceptive aren’t you?” I laughed.

“And you still haven’t answered my question,” she stated.

“I’m Cece,” I said, extending my hand in greeting, the nickname uncomfortable in my mouth after all these years, even more so saying it in front of Obi-Wan. But Cece and Ben sounded just as good as Cecil and Obi-Wan.

“Leia,” she said, shaking my hand, “so you are a Jedi.”

“I was,” I said carefully, “But not anymore.”

“I don’t think you stop being one. Just like Ben, you just have to believe.”

“I suppose so.”

Leia nodded like she had solved the matter entirely, “Goodbye Ben. Nice to meet you Cece. ”

She skipped away, two long braids flopping on her shoulders. Half-way across the platform she stopped and turned back to us, “And don’t forget to kiss each other goodbye. I think you should. I mean- I think you were about to.”

She said it with so much amused confidence that I couldn’t help but see Anakin as he’d been the last time I’d seen him - on that day he’d scolded us for making out in the ravine we’d ‘accidentally’ fallen into. Regardless, my face burned and Obi-Wan’s turned an equal shade of scarlett as we watched her disappear.

“Well-” I started.

But Obi-Wan cut me off, hands suddenly landing on my waist and pulling me to him, “And for the thousandth time today… she’s right.”

My gaze met his, the proximity sending my heart beating wildly in a way I scarcely remembered could happen. Not that being a part of the Rebellion had left much time for becoming emotionally close with anyone, but I was so content in existing on my own I had forgotten what it was like to exist beneath the gaze of someone who knew me so well and still loved everything about me.

We sat cross-legged on the floor of Obi-Wan’s little ship that he’d take back to Tatooine while eating the meal Leia had brought us. By some twist of fate that I was sure wasn’t luck, she’d packed enough for two.

A decade worth of stories flowed between us: mine of stoking the fire that was the Rebellion and Obi-Wan’s of watching little Luke grow up. The banter that had always existed between us was as strong as ever, almost seeming like no time had passed.

As the stars came out to twinkle in the Alderaan sky I knew our time was coming to an end. Our meal had long since been finished and we’d spilled all the secrets to each other that would have seen the Rebellion fall to pieces right then and there had the wrong ears heard us. I leaned against Obi-Wan, my head resting on his shoulder.

“Do you remember that night on Naboo? When we were sitting just like this on that balcony overlooking the lake?” Obi-Wan asked, interrupting the comfortable silence in which we’d been basking.

“Of course,” I said, the memory one of the happiest from the war, “how could I forget?”

“I feel like that right now. Like I don’t want us to ever have to get off this floor and go do whatever it is we have to do.”

“And back then, the stakes were somehow lower,” I laughed without humor.

“They were,” he said, his voice tinged with remorse, “but there was a future too. A hope that we could win and that everything would be alright. And that we’d get to experience it together.”

I shifted so I could face him, studying the way his eyes were fixed on some point in the far off past, “there is hope. There is always hope.”

“Is there? How will we ever overcome what the Empire has become?”

I took his hand in mine, gently tracing the lines on his palms, “When did you become such a pessimist? A cynic?”

“I’ve always been a cynic,” he chuckled, “but it seems an impossible task.”

“Maybe,” I said, dropping his hand and leaning to press my forehead to his. He closed his eyes as I did so. “But something is brewing. It might take another ten years, but something is coming,” I whispered.

“And you do tend to be right about these things,” he said, his eyes opening to meet mine.

“Yeah,” I grinned as he leaned closer and I could feel his smile against my lips, so familiar it seemed impossible we had been apart for ten years, “But hopefully this time for the better rather than worse.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. He closed the miniscule distance between us, lips on mine careful, tentative even. But that didn’t last long. The kiss was filled with a desperate sense of goodbye, a farewell that he couldn’t bear to say out loud. Eventually he pulled away, both of us breathless.

“Goodbye Obi-Wan,” I said softly, knowing that if I didn’t say it now I might not ever get the chance.

“I hope not,” he said, smiling lightly.

“Me too. But if it is, I want to make sure I got the chance to say it.”

Another goodbye after the thousands we’d already said and I was standing alone in the landing bay watching his ship disappear into the horizon. It was the millionth time I watched him go, not knowing if I would ever see him again.

-------

Ch. 11 - Goodbye?

I was on a ship to Yavin 4 when I received the message, something coded and from an unknown signal. I knew who it was without opening it.

I was alone, finally having left my undercover post and heading to the base of operations where things were changing - where the Rebellion wanted me to become General Palmarin again.

It felt like fate: on my way to the Rebel base of operations after so many years of working in the shadows, driving the Resistance forward - only to hear Obi-Wan's voice again. It was the timbre I remembered and adored, the man whose soft spoken tone had the ability to command armies and sway empires. But as was all too common, it was filled with deep sadness.

My heart swelled when his face came into view, older and showing the time he had spent on a desert planet with twin suns. But it was still Obi-Wan, his smile lines prominent, the ever-present twinkle to his gaze still there, regardless of his grim tone.

“I’ve just killed Maul,” he said, the hologram flickering faintly, “He found me on Tatooine. I don’t know how, but he did. So I’m going dark.”

He chuckled, interrupting himself, “that was dramatic, I sound like-”

He stopped himself and I felt tears forming. I could see him visibly choke up, unable to say his name even after all this time, “This might be the last time you hear from me. At least until- until the time is right.”

Obi-Wan smiled suddenly, “The kid, he’s strong in the Force you know. Really strong. He could change the course of history again. As could his sister. As you know.”

I smiled this time, tears falling rapidly knowing that I would only get to hear the message once, that it would self-destruct the file the moment it concluded.

“So I hope this isn’t goodbye, but it might be. And I’m sorry if it is. I love you Cecil. Don’t forget it,” he paused and it felt like he was staring right at me, like he was right there in front of me, “may the Force be with you, my darling.”

-------

Ch. 12 - Goodbye.

Content warning: grief

A day ago thousands of souls reached out and then were silent. And I did not know what it was.

Hours later we found it to be the destruction of Alderaan.

An hour ago one soul reached out, one so familiar it was like the other half of me. And then it was silent. And I knew what happened.

Obi-Wan was gone.

I had been asleep, fitfully so because I felt a deep tension in the Force, something shifting in the balance. Yavin 4 was peaceful, serene even, and I had been getting excellent sleep here over the past two years so it was unusual.

But the fluttering of tension in the Force woke me. Something wasn’t right, like the Force was screaming at me to do something, anything, but I did not know what I was supposed to do.

Because it knew, it knew what was coming.

I’d taken a walk through the compound, the hanger doors wide open to let in the cool summer night. It was quiet, I’d even checked over the compound for anything out of place. A far off watchman saluted me and I nodded back, not willing to break the silence. The clouds shifted, revealing a rarely seen glow from another moon.

In that moment I felt it, the presence I had not felt in years, as if he was right there with me - as if Obi-Wan were about to reach out and touch me on the shoulder.

But then he was gone. Really and truly gone. I hadn’t ever before realized that I had always faintly felt him. But suddenly he was not there, like a breath ripped from my lungs.

I fell to my knees, a sob escaping me, my body crumpling. There was no doubt in my mind, in fact I’d never been more certain of anything: Obi-Wan Kenobi was gone.

I faintly made out the watchman’s footsteps nearing me, her footfalls hurried, but I shut them out. Even when the woman reached down to touch me I couldn’t help it, the Force exploded from me, sending her flying, her body seeming to soar through the air in slow motion. Almost without my permission the Force caught her, cushioning her fall.

This all happened in silence, even the crash of the woman hitting the ground seemed muffled to me. Because my entire life was playing before me, everything I had ever done included him. There was not a moment he was not there, at least in thought, with the knowledge that I could return to him as a safe place, a home. He was a stationary point in a constantly moving universe, something solid to hold on too when the world seemed to spin too fast.

But he was gone. I knew it more certainly than if I had watched him die, more certainly than if I had held him in my arms while he breathed his last breath.

And the Universe grieved with me. She even shed tears - I could hear them falling outside - mourning the other half of my soul.

I think I stayed there for hours, far into the early hours of the morning until someone came to get me, to tell me that they had to land a ship in the landing bay and I was in the way. I met the gaze of Jan Dodonna, his eyes soft, waiting .

“He’s gone,” I whispered, voice breaking and heart shattering, “Obi-Wan is gone.” “I’m sorry,” General Dodonna said, “I’m sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye.”

I nodded, my tears falling anew. I let him almost pick me up, barely cognisant of my feet moving. In the nearly two years I had been on Yavin 4 he knew me best, frankly he was one of the very few people I knew from before the Republic fell.

General Dodonna ushered me out of the landing bay, gently depositing me in an unused meeting room. I flopped into a chair, my limbs numb, my heart empty. He knelt down in front of me looking worried but his eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope I barely recognized.

“Take your time,” he started, “But I think you’ll want to meet the kids about to get off this ship.”

“Kids?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“Leia Organa,” he smiled, “And a boy she said came from Tatooine.”

-------

Ch. 13 - Hope

The ship docks and Leia runs down the gangplank first, a man and two droids following. I let out a sob at the sight of them, the familiar tottling of the gold plated one, the sassy chatter of the second following closely behind.

And someone else. Someone who feels immediately like Anakin but with the softness of Padmé. But not Leia, it’s not just Leia I’m feeling.

It’s Luke.

Leia’s twin strides down after her, his gait confident as his mother’s, chin held high enough that I can see his father’s arrogance. The twins, together at last and they don’t even know it.

A smile breaks across my face through the tears and I laugh because the next era of Skywalkers changing the course of history has just stepped foot in the base of Rebel operations.

The droids reach me before the scruffy looking pilot and Leia do.

“Artoo!” I exclaim, kneeling down in front of him, where have you been?”

He beeps affectionately in response, but adds a snarky comment that makes me feel more loved than his initial welcoming greeting.

“Oh, do you know R2?” C-3PO asks, coming to stand beside us.

“3PO of course I do!”

I seem to stun the droid into silence for half a second by the fact I knew his name and called him by a shortened version of it, “And next you’ll be telling me I know you too I suppose?”

“In another life, yes,” I smiled, “we all knew each other very well.”

“Stupid mindwipes,” he mutters, seeming to shake his head before tottling off.

I hug Leia briefly before she turns to business with General Dodonna. My heart contracts at the thought of how many times Padme had done the same.

I nod to Luke in greeting, extending my hand, “I’m Cece,” I say, the name sounding foreign in my mouth even after so many years of going by the nickname. And it hurts to not introduce myself to Anakin’s son as myself.

“Nice to meet you General,” Luke nods respectfully.

I frown, “How did you-”

“You have the aura of someone in charge,” he grins.

I smile, unsure of what else to say. But I can’t say nothing because I want to know, to be sure, “he was with you wasn’t he?”

“Who?” Luke asks, his eyebrows knitting in a way that was so deeply reminiscent of Anakin I almost start to cry again.

“Obi-Wan- Or Ben. He probably asked you to call him that.”

Luke’s face lights up and falls at the same time, “You knew him?”

“Of course I knew him,” I said smiling.

“He’s, ah, he’s gone you know-” he said, his voice quieting.

“I know.”

“On that battle station, Darth Vader killed him.”

It shocks me, even though I already knew it to be true, that the remnant of Anakin would strike him down. I see the sadness in Luke’s eyes and know I can’t let him see mine because it will give too much away. Too much that he shouldn’t know yet.

But he sees it anyway, or rather, I think he feels it. I feel his Force signature shift in a way that shakes me because it is so full of feeling, of passion, just as Anakin was. And even if he doesn’t know what it means yet, he feels me feel it. He feels the slight shift in my presence and the deep sadness that I cannot hold in. At the same moment, I feel Leia’s eyes on me too and have to keep myself from sobbing because the Skywalkers can’t help but have a powerful presence in the Force. It is who they are.

This all happens in a flash that no one else seems to notice. Luke nods like he understands something new and Leia averts her eyes like she knows I don’t want to share my grief yet.

“Ben mentioned you. Cecil, right?” Luke asks, a fresh respect and near awe in his eyes, “General Palmarin. Master Palmarin.”

I smile, unable to hide it this time, “And what cautionary tales did he tell of me?”

Luke smiles in return and responds in a tone older than his years “Only that he missed you. And that you were,” he corrected himself, “that you are the best Jedi of the age.”

I grin, the compliment warming me just as much as if Obi-Wan was here to say it. My heart swells as I watch Luke go, wishing with all my heart that I could stay, that I could train him.

But that is not my job. My job is done. The rebellion has wings. It has hope. This is the beginning of the end.

-------

Playlist:

Yours - Conan Gray

Love Of My Life - Harry Styles

As It Was - Harry Styles

Brooklyn Baby - Lana Del Rey

Dancing With Our Hands Tied - Taylor Swift

Another Love - Tom Odell

Complete Mess - 5 Seconds of Summer

One More Weekend - Maude Latour

Supercut - Lorde

What If I Love You - Gatlin

Wish You Were Sober - Conan Gray

All These Things I’ve Done - The Killers

right where you left me - Taylor Swift

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yourneighborhoodporg · 6 months

Text

The Guardian

Series Playlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1: The Accident — Sign of the Times (Harry Styles)

Chapter 2: The Revelation — Superwoman (Alicia Keys)

Chapter 3: The Escape — Independence Day (Neil Finn)

Chapter 4: Arrival Part 1 & Part 2 — Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up) (Florence + The Machine) & The Dog Days Are Over (Florence + The Machine)

Chapter 5: Identity — Across the Universe (Fiona Apple — Cover)

Chapter 6: Patience — Valley of Pain (Bonnie Raitt)

Chapter 7: Master — Willow Tree (Paul McCartney)

Chapter 8: Blackened Water Part 1 & Part 2 — Migraine (Twenty One Pilots) & Black Water (Of Monsters and Men)

Chapter 9: Ancient Instruments — Broad-Shouldered Beasts (Mumford & Sons)

Chapter 10: Troubled Water — Bridge Over Troubled Water (Simon & Garfunkel)

Chapter 11: Alone Part 1 — Widow's Peak (Neil Finn)

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hereticpriest · 2 months

Text

Mercy Ch. 1 - Every Story Has a Beginning

Rating: Explicit 18+

MDNI

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Chapter Warnings: A bit heavy in exposition - I apologize, I have a lot to introduce. Minimal warnings, but there is some discussion of dynamics with children to prepare them for their future. Child abandonment?

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Masterlist - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

A floating holo of Haelstruum rotated in the centre of the room, followed swiftly by a couple of other planets from across the galaxy. Ryloth, Shii, Glee Anselm, Corellia, Stewjon, and even Coruscant joined Haela in a cluster before their teacher, Master Yoda, as he began a slow but engaging lecture on the history of each planet and the Jedi they had produced. Haelstruum was not a common addition to the lecture, and as such, was one of the planets which appeared to intrigue the students in the room most of all. You noticed several eyes glancing back at you, filled with curiosity despite having been taught together for many years now. Your pointed ears flicked with irritation, an unconscious habit you had still yet to gain control of despite repeatedly hearing from your instructors that it gave away your true feelings.

“... not many jedi, Haelstruum has produced. Curious, as many force-sensitives, Haelstruum has.” Master Yoda gave a hum of amusement at the way his students leaned forwards towards him. Their eagerness to learn was often his favourite part of visiting the Heloist and Kybuck clans of younglings for lessons. He looked around the room for a moment, admiring the yearning for knowledge of each youngling, before his gaze fell upon you. The only potential Jedi from Haelstruum in nearly thirty years.

A hand shot up directly to the right of you. Doa’su, a teal-skinned Twi’lek who had always been endlessly curious about your species. Haela were rarely found off of Haelstruum, and strangers were rarely welcomed onto the planet, so the Archives or lessons were the only way to learn more about where you came from.

“A question, you have?” Yoda asked, and Doa’su straightened her back to right her posture, trying to look more adult than she was.

“Yes, Master Yoda. I was wondering why there aren’t more Haela Jedi if Haelstruum has a lot of force-sensitives?” She asked with as respectful a tone as a six year old could manage. Your tail flicked behind you, winding in slow s-patterns like a snake through the sand. You were also curious, of course. You’d been taken from Haelstruum when you were only a babe - no more than a year old if your minder in the crèche was to be believed. Yoda’s gaze found you again, and you could have sworn a smile tugged at his lips. Maybe he’d seen your excitement evident in your winding tail.

“Fiercely loyal, Haela are. And fiercely insular, I’m afraid. Believe themselves capable of teaching their own to use the Force and control themselves, the Haelstruum council does.” Yoda replied honestly, and as Doa’su perked up again as if to ask a follow up, he raised a calming hand palm towards her, “While strong with the Force, Haela are, deeply superstitious they are as well. If born under a bad omen, a Haelan is, abandoned they will be. A deep connection to the Force, Haelan seers have, but not always clear these visions are.”

You had a moment of fear at the idea of being abandoned. Considered a bad omen, or seen through the Force to do something awful. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, breathing in deeply, then exhaling slowly and calmly until the ripples in the serene pool of your mind dissipated to nothing.

“How was I found by the Jedi, Master Yoda?” You asked, bringing your tail into your lap to further calm yourself. To your left, you felt a curious gaze from the Stewjonni boy whose freckles seemed as plentiful as the stars in the night sky. His curiosity seemed to rival that of Doa’su, and it was liable to make you nervous again if you gave either of them any attention.

“Ahh, a very interesting tale, that is. Born under a rare foreseen comet, you were. A bad omen, it was said, for a child with the Force to be born under the watchful gaze of this comet. If I recall, lifted a starfruit to your cradle, you did. In the neighbouring system, Master Dooku was, and contacted by the Haelan council, we were.” Master Yoda replied, and you took some comfort in the knowledge that despite being considered a bad omen by your people, they still gave you to the Jedi instead of whatever alternative might have been possible.

“Thank you, Master Yoda. I apologise for the interruption.” You said politely, quieting down for the remainder of the lesson. The boy beside you kept his gaze fixed on your face a little longer, and you finally looked at him, blinking in surprise at the toothy smile he gave you. He wasn’t in the same clan as you - Kybuck clan to your Heloist clan - but you recognized him all the same. Obi-wan Kenobi, a strawberry blonde ball of rebellion and mischief that you did not need to get involved with. You immediately looked away again, your pale pink cheeks gaining a purple flush as your blue blood rushed to your face.

“Names are important,” Master Mundi aurated, his voice soft and lyrical as always as he took ownership of the front of the classroom, “Some cultures use their family name until they are old enough to choose their own name. Some cultures have names that have rich meaning, and are meant to foretell their future, while others simply choose something that appeals to the parents. Some cultures name their children after relatives. There are even some who have a given name that they only use during their youth, at which point it becomes personal and only used between close friends and family. Haela are a wonderful example of this, like our dear youngling Y/N. When Haela begin maturing, they choose what is called a ‘virtue name’. This name can be an attribute that they wish to personify throughout their life, or a calling that they feel deep in their heart. You’re still a bit young for that, Y/N, but I will be very curious to see what you land on.”

You smiled sheepishly, embarrassed by the attention, though Master Mundi swiftly moved onto the topic of titles, and how their importance varied from planet to planet. He was a fantastic teacher, and while his work largely fell into that of a Guardian, he was skilled with introducing Consular matters to the younglings. You quite enjoyed his classes, as even when the topic was boring, his lilting voice managed to keep your attention.

Later that day, while practising with your training saber under Master Yoda’s watchful eye, you couldn’t stop thinking about virtue names. What would you choose? How would you choose something so important without any guidance at all? What if you chose something as a Padawan but found that it didn’t suit you as an adult? You were only eight years old - you wouldn’t have to decide for at least a couple more years, and yet you felt frozen with indecision as if you had to decide this exact moment. From your understanding, the previous Haela Jedi had always chosen their virtue names as they transitioned from youngling to Padawan. That was still years away.

Nearby, Obi-Wan and another human boy had been paired up to spar. The sound of their training sabers buzzed in your ears, though you didn’t look up from the kata you were moving through robotically, far too lost in your head. It was a soothing sound to you, helping you reach a moving meditation state that had you following the will of the Force more than you were consciously following your kata movements. A yelp split the air, and you blinked rapidly as you came out of your trance, ears still buzzing with energy as you turned to see Obi-Wan on the floor with his hand around his ankle. The other human boy whose name you couldn’t remember was apologising profusely, and you could see unshed tears in Obi-Wan’s eyes that he was trying to hide. Master Yoda began to make his way across the room towards them, but you got there first, crouching in front of the Stewjonni boy with a sympathetic smile.

“That looks like it hurts.” You murmured, gently pulling his hands away from his ankle and rubbing your wrists together comfortingly. Despite still being too young for your dynamic to emerge, platonic scenting was common between younglings for comfort and bond-building, even if you barely knew him. He blinked at you, but the tension in his body eased, soothed by your gentle touch. His ankle was already red and beginning to swell, so you placed a careful hand on the joint. You didn’t quite know what you were doing, or why, but you could feel the Force guiding you, breathing through you. You felt bad for Obi-Wan and wanted to take away his pain.

And so you did.

You watched as the swelling began to reduce as quickly as it started. The redness melted back into pale skin littered with freckles, and Obi-Wan’s harsh breathing slowed. He reached for you this time, rubbing his wrist against yours, his body instinctively leaning towards you as he wiped his face in the collar of his robes. You barely even noticed that the boy had clasped his hand with yours, your wrists together while your other hand hovered over his injured ankle. A tingle of connection and thanks shot through you, and you smiled at Obi-Wan shyly as you finished healing his ankle. You removed your hand from his ankle as Master Yoda approached, a fond smile on his wrinkly old face.

“The gift of healing, you appear to have. A wonderful surprise, this is.” Yoda said as you used your grip on Obi-Wan’s hand to carefully help him to his feet. The young human boy rubbed his wrist against yours again a final time, reciprocating that comfort and silently thanking you for it, before he finally, reluctantly, let go.

“Does that mean I will have to stop my training and go to the Halls of Healing?” You asked your teacher with the beginnings of a pout, drawing a croaky laugh from the Master who had trained you for so long.

“Continue to train, you will. Want your help, the Halls of Healing may. But yours, the choice remains.”

You were nearly ten when you were brought into a cosy classroom that you didn’t think was still under use. Plants lined the shelving, and at the head of the room stood a Jedi you knew quite well. He often visited the crèche when he was stressed, playing with the youngest of the younglings or rocking the babies to sleep. He told grand stories of his missions, child-friendly of course, and you would always listen with rapt attention to his dramatic tales. Qui-Gon Jinn. Former apprentice of the man who brought you to the Jedi Temple as a babe.

Your fellow younglings shifted anxiously in their seats, all of you unsure as you had not been told what the lesson entailed, simply a time and classroom number. You held onto your tail to keep it from swaying nervously behind you, catching the eye of Doa’su beside you as she watched you. You offered her a shy smile which she returned, reaching out the short distance to rub your wrists together.

“Ah, a wonderful way to begin your lesson.” Qui-Gon interrupted you, making you jump in your seat. Your cheeks flushed purple, and Doa’su stammered an apology, but the Jedi Master simply shook his head and smiled at you both.

“Most Jedi are Betas, though scholars continue to argue whether that is because of the Force, or simply innately because Betas are far more common than the other two dynamics. I personally believe it to be a combination of both, however it is true that there are several wise Jedi who happen to be Alphas, or Omegas. Master Windu himself is an Alpha, as is my former master, Master Dooku. Master Sifo-Dyas and Master Yaddle are both Omegas.” Qui-Gon explained, “In this class, I will be giving you all a lesson in dynamics, including pack bonds, how your dynamic might affect your connection to the Force and the people around you, and dynamic-specific anatomy.”

After a quick look around the room, you gave a nervous giggle. You weren’t the only one whose face was flushed. Doa’su was as purple as you, and the Togruta youngling Orare seemed to be attempting to sink into the floor. Nanga, a Nautolan youngling was trying to cover her face with her tendrils, while Yaris, a Corellian boy simply pulled the front of his robes up over the lower half of his face. Qui-Gon watched you all with a certain fondness in his eyes, a kind but heavily amused smile on his face.

“All dynamics have scent glands, as I’m sure you are all aware. As demonstrated previously by younglings Y/N and Doa’su, pressing your scent glands together can be a way to comfort eachother, and display bonds of friendship. You have scent glands on your chin, your neck, and your wrists. It is generally considered that scenting via wrists is a platonic display, while scenting chin-to-neck is far more intimate. The glands on your neck are used for mating bonds, though only force-mates are allowed to bind themselves this way within the Jedi Order.” Qui-Gon gestured towards the appropriate glands on his own body as he spoke, and you reached up to touch the gland on your chin curiously.

“How do you know that someone is your force-mate?” Nanga asked, shy but very curious. Qui-Gon smiled indulgently.

“When you brush your force signature against your force-mate, it will instantly create a bond between you, stronger than any training bond or pack bond you may create. Should one not be taking blockers, the scent of their mate might be a good indicator, and might throw them both into early heat or ruts. It is said to be instantly obvious when you meet your force-mate, though only if you meet after presenting.” Qui-Gon explained as he walked leisurely around the room, “I have been asked to warn you that finding your force-mate is a very rare occurrence, lest you feel disheartened if you don’t find them. I have also been asked to remind you that while force-mates are respected by the Council, you must always put the living will of the Force, and the Jedi Code, first.”

The Beta Master went on to explain that heats and ruts were monthly, though many species have stronger heats and ruts during the spring and summer seasons. He explained that the possibility of pregnancy, and the genital anatomy of Alphas and Omegas was species-dependent and very complicated, but to be assured that it was very likely that whatever relationship dynamic you fell into would allow procreation, if you found your force-mate. To your immense embarrassment, Qui-Gon Jinn took the time to explain an Alpha’s knot, Omega slick, and general anatomy of each dynamic for each of the species present in the room. He explained Omega behaviour like nesting, and how it could be supported by their pack. You were relieved when he dispelled the misconceptions around Alpha commands, as they had always been unnerving to you. While a command was compelling, it was not all-powerful, and it was generally used to break through barriers like anxiety or fear. Even the worst, most vile Alpha couldn’t force their Omega or Beta into anything they didn’t want to do.

Betas tend to have soothing scents, Alphas tend towards woodsy or spicy scents, and Omegas often have flowery or sweet scents, Qui-Gon explained as he went into how scent was as good as mind-reading for many people. It was an innate, biological knowledge that everyone shared. Sour smells indicated fear, tang indicated arousal, warmth indicated happiness or contentedness, and the scent of rot often followed anger or hate. Even as younglings, with very little scent of your own, you could recognize these scents in others around you - particularly adults.

The last part of your lesson revolved around pack bonds and dynamic communication. Packs often fluctuated, and the pack you belonged to as a youngling would change as you became a Padawan, and later, a Master. Packs consisted of a variety of members of different dynamics, headed by an Alpha, and balanced by a strong Beta. Multiple Alphas could be in the same pack, however one of those Alphas would inevitably be stronger than the others, or at the very least submitted to. Alphas chuff when pleased, while Omegas purr. Alphas growl or roar when displeased, while Omegas hiss. Omegas make a chirrup sound to get the attention of those around them, a sharp, ear-catching sound. Betas can purr, and it can be incredibly soothing to be around a purring Beta. Betas also bark when displeased, and even the strongest Alpha would feel chastened by a Beta’s bark.

“When you present your dynamic, you will be given scent blockers, and heat or rut blockers as well. You will be given a birth control implant, which can be removed when you get older, should you find your force-mate. It is important to know that while your first heat or rut can be scary, you will be supported by those around you, and the effects will be swiftly soothed by taking your first round of blockers.” Qui-Gon showed you all the birth control implant in his arm to assuage your fears, letting each of you touch the small shape beneath his skin. You had to admit, it made you feel better to have a frank discussion of these things that you knew existed, but were kept so cloistered in the Jedi Temple.

By the end of the lesson, despite the uncertainty surrounding it, you felt a little more at ease about your future. Most Jedi were Betas, anyways, so you likely didn’t have much to worry about. And you likely wouldn’t present for a couple of years still - the average age for presenting was 12-14. It was a distant worry if anything. There was no way you would be an Alpha, or an Omega. There was no way.

Space was cold.

It was your first clear thought since you’d boarded the small cruiser that would take you on your first mission with your new Master. You stood proudly behind him and the pilot in the cockpit, feet carefully shoulder-width apart, your chin tipped up regally as your Master had instructed you. Your hands were folded carefully behind your back, hidden in your sleeves, and you relied entirely upon your balance to keep yourself upright for the journey despite any turbulence. Most younglings become Padawans closer to the age of twelve, however your Master requested you a little early, believing you would benefit from one-on-one attention sooner rather than later. At the tender age of ten, you looked up into the proud eyes of your Master as he carefully twisted the strands of your hair into your Padawan braid, and you knew you had been right to hope for him to be your Master for all of these years.

“Have you chosen a virtue name, my young Padawan?” Your Master asked as he got to the end of your braid, beginning to tie it off with a teal band.

“Yes, Master. I will be known as Mercy from now on.” You replied, hope stirring in your belly that you had chosen correctly. Your Master smiled fondly as he finished tying off your braid, tucking it back from your face.

“I’m pleased to know you, Mercy.”

“One must master oneself to master the force, my young apprentice.” He had told you as he helped you with your new Padawan robes, “and one must always present oneself the way they wish to be viewed. Project strength, and you will be seen as strong even when you do not feel it. Project regality, and you will be treated with the respect you deserve, despite your youth. Poise and elegance are important for not only consular abilities, but also your lightsaber training, and your force abilities.”

Your Padawan braid swayed against your neck, and you were tempted to tuck it behind your ear to keep it from tickling your skin, but you don’t want to move. You want your Master to know how seriously you take his instruction. You want to prove yourself to him. The journey is long, with a jump through hyperspace that threatens to knock you over, though you use your prehensile tail to balance yourself. Four hours you stand behind your Master and the pilot, who had initially attempted to argue on your behalf that you be allowed to sit. It was kind and thoughtful of him, though you had insisted that you would be perfectly fine standing before your Master could even respond. His approving smile warmed you enough to keep you standing even when your legs began to go numb.

Your arrival upon the small planet is greeted with much pomp and circumstance, and your Master rests a strong hand between your shoulder blades to support you as you walk through the streets of a bustling market. The sights and smells are nearly overwhelming after a lifetime of the cool serenity of the Jedi Temple, but you try to act unbothered and simply wrap your tail around your leg to keep it from getting in the way. You’re too tired for it to truly overwhelm you. Perhaps that had been the point. If you were being honest with yourself, you remember very little about your first mission considering it had largely been a diplomatic mission between your Master and the hierarchy of the planet. Your fondest memories are largely unrelated to your actual goal upon the planet.

Your Master calmly introduced you to the wealth of indulgences available in the small market, starting with a meal in a restaurant by the shipyard which he informed you was your first reward for your impressive standing meditation upon the ship. He ordered several dishes to share, calmly explaining what each food was and the way it should taste as you ate. When you mentioned that the Council might see it as an overindulgence, he simply smiled at you with an eyebrow cocked and asked, “Is the Council here, my young Padawan?” You giggled, taking another bite of a sweet fruit that made your mouth water to hide your excitement.

After your meal, your Master bought you a tin of candy from a booth with a shopkeeper who smiled bright as the sun as she handed it over to you. He bought you a bead for your braid to celebrate your first mission, and a lovely copper-coloured cuff for your tail that was originally meant to be a bracelet. He told you stories of some of his previous missions, and his last Padawan many years ago who was now a Jedi Master in his own right. After meeting with the leaders of the planet and completing the mission, he took you back to the cruiser, however he did not make you stand this time. Instead, he sat with you in the small cargo hold and showed you how to massage the pain from your legs after a busy day. He promised you that while he would demand a lot from you, he would always take care of you.

And you believed him.

For a long, long time, it was true. Your Master taught you his preferred lightsaber form, Form II - Makashi. He praised your elegance with the blade, your prowess with the force, and your poise in the face of all obstacles. He bought you more small indulgences, like hair oils and creams with bacta that would help soothe your aching muscles after a hard day. He filled your datapad with countless books about the force, or history, or poetry. With each one you read, he would indulge you in grand, invigorating discussions that often gave you new perspectives and made you feel more equal with your Master. He brought you to see a couple of plays in the grand theatre on Coruscant, along with an opera for your eleventh birthday.

Your Master disagreed often with the Council, and had many indulgences unbefitting of a Jedi. He was stern when you made mistakes, and far more demanding than many of the other Masters, but he was so nurturing every step of the way that you truly excelled under his tutelage. He would drill you for hours in lightsaber training until you could barely stand, then make you sit in meditation for hours longer until your body ached. He pushed you further than other Padawans your age, and if questioned about it he would simply tell you that you were better than them, and thus more would be expected of you. He made you sit under waterfalls until your body was numb, or balance in a one-handed handstand while using the force to hold rocks in levitation. He expected perfection. And yet, he always rewarded you for meeting his standards. He would rebraid your Padawan braid with new beads and clasps with each achievement, and praise you for your skills. On a mission to a rather rich, lush planet, he bought you a new cloak in your favourite colour to wear over your brown and cream robes.

When you were twelve, you presented as an Alpha, and your Master smiled proudly as he wiped the sweat from your brow and tucked you into bed. He gave you scent blockers in the form of patches for the scent glands on your neck, and cream for anywhere else. He gave you rut blockers to take every day, and explained their importance. Not once did he falter or appear embarrassed in his explanations of your dynamic. Despite the heavy scent of your rut filling the room, he was perfectly composed as he braided your hair to keep it from getting tangled while you rested.

“I knew it.” He said, “You will be a strong Alpha, regal and poised. A paragon of your designation.”

Your Master brought you a robe of his, knowing it would provide comfort as the blockers took effect. Thankfully, you’d only have to endure a couple of hours of this torment. He brought you water, and your favourite foods, cheekily putting a finger to his grinning lips as if to shush you as he did. As if you’d ever tattle on him to the Council.

The following morning, after a long turn in the fresher, you finally felt like yourself again. You took your bedding and clothes to do the laundry, then applied your scent blocker carefully in the mirror. You were sitting on the cushion in the shared space of your rooms when your Master finally joined you. He carefully settled down across from you, his force signature brushing against yours through your training bond to assure himself that you were alright before he sank into meditation with you. When you were feeling calm and collected, and balanced within the force, you finally spoke.

“You have let me waste the morning away. I have training to get to. I am ready, Master Dooku.”

#obi-wan kenobi x alien reader #obi-wan kenobi #reader character is an alien species so appearance has some set features #I acknowledge that this may fall more under OC due to the physical description so adding that tag #obi-wan kenobi x original character #obi-wan kenobi x oc #obi wan kenobi x reader

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euphoriacafe · 24 days

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thegreatwicked · 3 months

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Memories of Chocolate Laced Kisses

It's finally done! And before I overthink it and do another ten edits here it is! The night Obi-Wan and Cressida's son was conceived! This was really hard to get through and it was a struggle to keep a specific tone I set, so I hope you all like it!

Memories of Chocolate Laced Kisses

She had always been particularly gifted in the area of evasion, her years as a sentinel no doubt took what was already a natural talent and sharpened that skill into perfection. With our meeting finished, Cressida, once more, had slipped away, disappearing like a vapor and I found myself standing alone in the practice room. This place had served as a neutral ground for our discussion regarding Solan, it was a location I hadn't frequented in quite some time. Until now, I had little reason to set foot in such a place, I wasn’t a teacher, not like the other masters who possessed the innate ability to connect with small children, it was never something I was particularly good at. However, being back in this room, waves of nostalgia washed over me in my solitude, bringing back a wealth of memories of my own youth.

This very room had been where I once stood as a youngling, learning to harness the Force and master my emotions, just like we all did, some faster than others. Despite the years and countless Jedi who had passed through these doors, the place remained virtually unchanged, it even smelled the same. How that was possible I wasn’t quite certain but the sense of familiarity was both comforting and bittersweet.

Some things never change, and some things must. I was falling into the latter category, I must change.

In contrast to my distant past, the room now felt smaller, almost diminutive whereas once it seemed to loom so large it was difficult to comprehend. I couldn't help but imagine how Solan might have looked donned in the traditional Jedi robes that his mother and I once wore. How he might have looked standing in this room surrounded by his clan, other force-sensitive children like himself, all learning, all a bit afraid. The thought brought a warm smile to my lips.

Getting to know Solan wasn’t going to be without its challenges, it was already becoming evident that he inherited traits from both his mother and me, from what little I had seen. The quick wit, sharp remarks he got from me, and an unwavering determination and calculable observation were among the qualities that were imparted to him from his mother, together they defined him. A blend of the two of us, it was amazing when I thought of it. I had never given much thought to children, certainly never of having any of my own, yet here I was, a father to a young Jedi in training. The notion of seeing Solan as we once were, in robes that may have been a little too large, wearing a training helmet, and wielding a training saber was one that warmed me inside. However, this particular memory was but a fiction—a scenario of what could have been but never was, at least not how I imagined it. In truth, Solan had discovered his connection to the Force through clandestine training sessions with his mother, in dangerous territory, hidden from my knowledge, and my protection.

My smile waned, and I found myself weighed down once more by the reality of my new life, my world grew heavy again feeling as though it were forcing me down, I sat myself on the floor, lost in contemplation. My thoughts swirled around the complexities of my life and how it had all commenced. It hadn't started in this room, but rather in the very quarters I inhabited whenever I was in the temple—my late master Qui-Gon's quarters. I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to drift back through the sands of time. The memories flowed in reverse, like a river running backward.

Back...

Until I arrived at the precise moment I wished to revisit, a memory I had not permitted myself to visit, one that now pained and confused me—the night when Cressida and I had passionately shared together, the night Solan had been conceived.

With my mind's eye now open, I stood in Qui-Gon's old room, gazing upon the specter of my former self. I was a young, newly anointed Jedi Knight, weighed down by the immense responsibilities of the galaxy, struggling to bear that burden alone.

And I was very alone.

The room seemed to hold echoes of that fateful night, and I couldn't help but wonder how different our lives might have been had we chosen a different path, but as I watched the dance of the ghosts of the past play out before my eyes, I found myself inexplicably grateful that my path had been set as it was and that it now intertwined with Cressida.

~~~

“What will happen to me?"

"You will be a Jedi, I promise,"

When the pyre had burned to nothing and only the ashes of a great Jedi master remained, Obi-wan retired to his fallen Master's quarters for one last night. The council had been kind in letting him remain where his master once called home, a small respite before he had to move on. He sat uncertain of how to proceed, only knowing that he had to. In a few days' time, he would begin training Anakin as his own Padawan. The enormity of the task weighed heavily on his shoulders, physically pulling him down, yet somehow he managed to maintain his composure. After everything that had happened, there was a blissful numbness that settled over him.

~~~

Sunset colored the room with warm shades in an attempt to breathe some life into the small space, which felt more like a tomb as the days had gone by. The whole room seemed dead like a spell, cold and lifeless had been cast upon it, trapping its inhabitant in stasis. Beyond the walls, life continued within the Jedi Order. Within the modest quarters that had been Qui-Gon Jinn's, the final rays of sunlight withdrew from the floor, plunging the room into twilight.

Master Qui-Gon’s pyre had drawn hundreds to the temple grounds and as he watched his master’s final journey into the unknown, he felt lost in a sea of faces. He felt as though he were watching it all happen through someone else’s eyes. A spectator to a day he had never wanted to see. Like no one saw him; no one except for the boy who was as alone as he was.

Anakin.

He’d spent the last few days in the stillness of Master Qui-Gon’s empty quarters, alone. He just needed a bit of time to deal with his grief. To somehow find himself because as soon as he left this room, he would be Obi-wan Kenobi Jedi Knight and Master to the Chosen One. The thought alone was terrifying.

"Master..." The word was a whisper, a ghostly echo of conversations past.

Even though the seat across from him at the table he sat at was empty, it was hard to believe Qui-Gon was truly gone. Harder still to fathom that he was about to step into the role of a Master and train Anakin Skywalker—the Chosen One. How could he teach another when his own heart was adrift in sorrow?

He just needed a little more time. He needed to wake up. But more than that he needed to find the willpower to stop sitting here, at the same table he and Qui-Gon used to share meals with and had countless conversations. Because no one sat across from him anymore.

He just stared at the two meals that had long since gone cold as if the presence of two portions of uneaten food would somehow change things, but despite not eating for days he felt no hunger or thirst.

Would it be this way forever?

He knew realistically the answer was ‘no.’ That he would find a way to pull himself up, that he would rise to the occasion and make his master proud and fulfill his dying wish. He would make Anakin a Jedi, it was just hard knowing that this time he would do it alone. Draped in Qui-Gon's robe, its oversized embrace offered a comforting haven, even though the hem sometimes skimmed the floor, causing a stumble now and then. In spite of its impractical size, the robe carried memories of his former master, making it too precious for Obi-Wan to remove.

Time was purposeless and held no sway over him, sat somewhere between a meditative state and consciousness, he lingered. The mechanical hiss of the doors saw no acknowledgement, nor did the soft light that flooded into the room or the hushed footsteps that stopped behind him. It wasn’t until he felt he was being stared at out of his peripheral vision that he turned for the first time in hours to see who it was that interrupted his solace, and it wasn't a face he expected.

Cressida Vox.

He hadn’t seen her in two years and the passage of time was apparent as it took his shock a few moments to catch up. Regardless of the flow of those two years and all that had changed, her eyes were still the same. Overcast and gray, like a peaceful day with clouds and gentle rain, bringing a sense of tranquility. She sat on her knees next to him saying nothing but the concern on her face communicating everything, reaching in a way words failed.

"Cress…"

As if awakening from a dream, his voice barely rising above a whisper, as if he feared he wasn’t really seeing what he was seeing.

"Hello, Obi-Wan,"

Though he couldn't find the words to respond, a sense of reassurance washed over him at the sight of her well-being. She offered him a muted smile and took his cold hand in hers, gently prying it from his own clasped grip. Taking immediate note of the indentations on his skin left by his own nails, something Obi-Wan hadn't realized until her fingers traced over the angry little lines, she reassured him with a squeeze, her thumb brushing lightly across his knuckles.

It was heart-wrenching to see those pools of blue that had once sparkled with the promise of adventure, camaraderie and compassion, now dulled, lost in the shadows that seemed to cling to the corners of the room.

“I know.”

That was all she said.

His voice quivered with each attempt to speak, and the sorrow that had been accumulating over the past few days surged forward, causing him to slump forward in sheer exhaustion, unable to hold back any longer. She wrapped him in her arms, cradling his head as he shook with grief, a sorrow she was unfortunately too familiar with. She wished so much that he didn't have to share this pain with her now, she’d have given anything to take it from him, but not even in the expanse of the cosmic Force, did such a power exist. Her fingers ran through the short hair at the back of his neck as his hot tears met her skin, and Obi-Wan wept.

The friendships between Padawans were something special in Jedi life, enduring across decades and the vastness of the galaxy. These connections often felt like the Padawans had spent everyday together, even if that wasn't the case. In the case of Obi-Wan and Cressida, their meetings were infrequent, but each one left a profound impact.

Without the strong friendship between their Masters, Obi-Wan and Cressida might never have crossed paths. This realization weighed heavily on Obi-Wan as he held onto Cressida tightly, almost painfully so. She didn't dare move, struck by the jarring sight of Obi-Wan in such a vulnerable state. Known for his confident and warm smile, always ready with a clever remark, seeing him falling apart felt fragile. Through the worst of things, he had always stayed positive. The despair coming from him was unbearable, but she felt uniquely qualified to offer solace.

Two years ago, the tables had turned, and she was the one drowning in tears after her master's brutal death. Back then, Obi-Wan had been her comforting presence, dispelling the frigid void surrounding her. His hands firmly held hers, extending a lifeline, while his arms embraced her as she unraveled.

Now, seated side by side, they shared a silent moment. The echoes of his subdued lament gradually faded away. The intense sobs that had overtaken him earlier subsided, reduced to a mere tremor with each exhale. His breathing settled into a rhythmic cadence, growing more measured with each inhalation and exhalation.

When he finally looked up, his eyes still held a hint of redness, stained by lingering sadness. Yet, within the weariness of his gaze, a faint glimmer of Obi-Wan Kenobi emerged. A subtle nod followed—an unspoken assurance that he wasn't okay, but he would be alright. He was on the path to recovery. Despite the brokenness of his smile, there was a visible effort to reclaim himself, one piece at a time, starting with that smile. While the corners of his mouth didn't entirely turn upwards, the initial attempt proved somewhat successful. It marked a gradual return of the Obi-Wan she knew, a testament to his resilience and the slow resurgence of his inner strength.

"Your hair is longer," he remarked, his voice carrying a soft, tired undertone, yet a warmth returning to his words.

She tilted her head, looking for the long braid she used to tug on incessantly. "And you're missing a braid," A subdued burst of laughter escaped him. "How will I grab your attention now?"

Their laughter, though tinged with a sense of forced lightness, echoed in the room. Obi-Wan chuckled, a newfound appreciation for their shared history of pranks, and shrugged. "I suppose we'll have to resort to communicating like responsible adults." Her raised eyebrow conveyed skepticism.

"Are we even capable of that?" she questioned, her doubt evident. He responded with a nonchalant shrug.

"I believe we can manage," he asserted. Obi-Wan leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, and whispered, "Welcome home." The dynamic in the room shifted as the sadness retreated to the shadows; with Cressida's presence, it seemed to stand no chance. Laughter, less forced, infused the air, carrying a hint of relief at their reunion.

~~~

"The refectory tells me that you request plates of food daily– two of them, and consistently, they remain untouched," Obi-Wan avoided her gaze, providing no explanation. "You know he wouldn't want this."

"I'd give anything to have one more meal with him, maybe somehow if I could, then I'd be more prepared for what comes next. I suppose that's why I keep calling for two plates. I know he's gone, but—" He trailed off, then like a burst damn, blurted it out. “How can I do this? How can I train a padawan? What if I fail him? What I-”

His gaze fell on the lightsaber and the untouched food. Before he could retreat into his thoughts, Cressida's hand squeezing pulled him back.

“You will be what Anakin needs, see the way clear, Obi-Wan. Trust in the Force, and you can’t fail.”

"Sometimes, it feels like a nightmare I can't wake from, Cress. Other times, it's like I'm seeing it happen to someone else." Observing Cressida's subtle nod, the one she did without meaning to. This prompted a question he had never asked but often wondered about, "How did you do it? How did you recover from this?"

With a deep and introspective breath, she responded in a tone reminiscent of a confession, her gaze fixated on Qui-Gon’s lightsaber. "I don’t suppose I ever did," she admitted.

His expression mirrored diminished hope, as if he were anticipating some morsel of wisdom.

“Does it ever get any easier?”

She gave a hesitant shrug, her response filled with uncertainty, as if the question had caught her off guard, or maybe she hadn't fully sorted through her thoughts.

"Yes. And no." Her words carried an ambivalent tone. "Some days, it feels like I can still hear his voice. Other days, I can't even remember what it sounded like. I don’t think there is recovery, only acceptance. It won't ever fade, but with time, it gets a bit easier to bear. Living makes it harder to dwell on the ones we've lost." Her gaze shifted to the empty space where Qui-Gon used to sit. "The memory always lingers; no one truly vanishes."

Obi-Wan remained silent, his eyes fixed on the food in front of him, as if caught between the urge to eat and an inner struggle. She reached for one of the plates, pulling it closer. When he didn't respond, she offered a piece of now-cold bread, extending it toward him. However, he showed no interest in taking it. His focus barely shifted, even when Cressida playfully joked about the bread not being poisoned and lightly poked him in the face with it. She had hoped for a laugh or a smile, but the best he managed was a less melancholic frown and furrowed brow.

"If you want to keep pace with a padawan, you'll need your strength,"

The reference to Anakin appeared to cut through Obi-Wan's preoccupation. Anakin, much like Obi-Wan, grappled with the difficulties of being alone. The burden of his commitment to both Qui-Gon and Anakin pressed heavily on him. "Do it for me." Her smile carried a blend of gentle pleading, and it appeared to touch him at last. With the slightest of smiles, he took the bread.

"Thank you," he whispered, then took a disinterested bite.

At first, he chewed slowly, almost as if struggling with himself to eat. However, as the act of chewing continued, his body seemed to awaken from its stupor, reacquainting itself with the taste of food. Gradually, his appetite rekindled.

She nudged his plate back toward him, and he resumed eating slowly. Offering some of his meal to Cressida, she accepted more out of a desire to ensure he didn't stop eating than genuine hunger. With deliberate restraint, she savored small bites, recalling the days when a younger Obi-Wan would consume his body weight, much to the horror of Master Deva L’Rue. The thought brought a smile to her face, reminiscing about those lighter moments.

As they shared the meal, it brought back memories of better days when their paths crossed, and both masters and their padawans enjoyed shared meals and stories. This was the first time in two years that they had dined together. The previous occasion had followed the passing of Cressida's master, Deva L'Rue, adding a layer of somber reflection to their gathering. While the absence of their masters meant fewer conversations and embarrassing stories, the simple act of breaking bread brought comfort. Turning to Cressida, Obi-Wan, as though contemplating the question throughout the meal, finally asked:

"Where have you been?"

The question arose from a mix of curiosity and a lingering yearning that endured two years of silence. Obi-Wan understood the slim odds of receiving a direct answer, given the mystery surrounding Cressida's actions after her master's death. She had simply disappeared, leaving behind uncertainty that haunted him for a while. Despite the slim chances, he couldn't resist asking.

Her lips formed the kind of smile that carried the weight of untold secrets and extraordinary tales destined to remain unspoken. Instead of words, she raised her lightsaber, and with a vibrant yellow blade, it pierced through the shadows, casting a radiant glow.

She was a sentinel—a guardian of the Jedi Order, tasked with navigating the enigmatic realms beyond the well-trodden trails of traditional Jedi.

As her lightsaber hummed, the once-darkened room transformed into a space bathed in its brilliant illumination. The two-year silence suddenly made more sense and it saddened him further. Their destinies were set on divergent paths, and he couldn't help but wonder how many years might pass before their paths crossed again.

The secretive and independent role of a sentinel explained where she had been all this time and also brought up more questions, fortunately he knew better than to ask.

“Our masters would have been proud of you."

“They would be proud of us.”

Trying to infuse a bit of levity into the atmosphere, Obi-Wan interjected humor into their conversation, inquiring:

"Any extraordinary stories you can regale me with?"

Cressida, as though on the brink of revealing some hidden knowledge or secret anecdotes reserved solely for Obi-Wan, scanned their surroundings and playfully motioned for him to draw nearer. Her unexpected compliance surprised him, prompting him to shift closer, intrigued by the prospect that she might actually unveil something to him.

“Two may keep a secret if one is dead,” she whispered with a wink, leaving Obi-Wan to chuckle in response, he should have known better. "And we can’t deny the galaxy a face as handsome as yours,"

The unexpected compliment caught him by surprise, a delightful twist that brought a genuine smile to his face. Though no stranger to compliments on his good looks, there was a unique charm in the way Cressida delivered her words. It prompted him to cast a bashful glance at the ground, a soft chuckle escaping him as if to downplay the noticeable blush coloring his cheeks.

"Keep your secrets then; I won't pry them from you," he responded, sidestepping a direct acknowledgment of the complement while allowing a subtle warmth to touch the tips of his ears.

With Obi-Wan's plate finally cleared, life and color returned to him, prompting a relieved sigh from Cressida. The table, however, wasn't entirely empty. A lone dish remained—a small bowl of soup favored by Qui-Gon and Yoda. This root stew, resembling brackish water, held a special place in the hearts of the seasoned Jedi Masters. Despite its unappealing appearance, Qui-Gon and Yoda found delight in it, engaging in many conversations over the bowl during chance encounters on the temple grounds. They insisted it wasn't just tasty but also beneficial for one's well-being. Numerous attempts were made to persuade Obi-Wan and Cressida to try it, but even Master Deva L’Rue, delicately toeing the line between respect and tactlessness, kept his distance, declaring it smelled like swamp water.

Dodging this particular dish created an odd bond between Obi-Wan and Cressida, leading them to playfully call it that whenever it appeared. Qui-Gon, being fair, acknowledged it was an acquired taste, its prevalence tied to circumstances on an assignment. Under different circumstances, he might have never given it a second thought. Yoda's unbridled enthusiasm for the stew, coupled with grumbles about younglings being too picky, and his subsequent dive into the dish with an appetite bordering on ravenous, added a humorous twist to the culinary escapade in retrospect. Despite Obi-Wan and Cressida being far from younglings, in the eyes of a Jedi Master who had lived over 900 years, all Jedi, regardless of age, could be considered as such.

Obi-Wan and Cressida found themselves for the first time in several years face to face with the dreaded Swamp Water. A playful standoff ensued, with exchanged knowing glances and an unspoken challenge lingering in the air. With each daring the other to take the first taste, their expressions shifting between soft chuckles and head-shaking disbelief at the unappetizing bowl before them. Two Jedi knights, grappling with the burdens of the galaxy, found themselves in a lighthearted stalemate of stubbornness, and pride.

The passage of time had softened Cressida's recollection, and perhaps it wasn't as dreadful as she had remembered? After all, years had passed, and they were undeniably adults now. What better way to courageously face the future than with a ceremonial taste of the stew in Qui-Gon's honor? Naturally, she decided to let Obi-Wan take the first bite. Reaching forward, she stirred the contents of the bowl. The scent, even more unpleasant when cold, made her wrinkle her nose in a comically exaggerated display of distaste. Without missing a beat, she extended the spoon to Obi-Wan, who responded with an emphatic head shake and a resolute rejection of the utensil.

"Don't you think we're a little old for these games?"

Obi-Wan deftly evaded Cressida's attempts to feed him the dreaded swamp water stew, ducking his head from side to side. Her persistent and somewhat childish antics managed to coax a genuine smile from the Jedi Knight, filling the room with the rich resonance of his chuckles. Yet, Cressida wasn't satisfied with mere smiles—she wanted unrestrained, hearty laughter,s he would accept nothing less.

"You’re exactly right, we’re far too old for these games. We’re adults. We're Jedi Knights, right?” She put the spoon back into the bowl and Obi-wan nodded, “Guardians of the Force, Keepers of the Peace." Obi-Wan nodded again in agreement, but a lingering skepticism still colored his expression, as if he anticipated a punchline he might not appreciate. "I think we've grown enough to triumph over a bowl of soup, don't you?"

"I suppose..." Obi-Wan chose to maintain a dubious stance, making no effort to hide it.

"You first." She pushed the bowl towards him

"What? Why me?" He blinked rapidly, sounding somewhat offended, shoving it back to her. "Ladies first."

“You’re the one with a padawan... who hasn’t eaten in a week,” she teased, determined to escalate their playful skirmish, pushing it with greater force. "It'll be good for you!"

"It’ll make me sick… Do you really want to witness me regurgitate what little sustenance I’ve managed?" Obi-Wan countered, injecting a playful tone into his words as they engaged in a lighthearted skirmish over who would summon the courage to taste the infamous stew. He gave it another shove, causing some of its contents to slosh out onto the table "Absolutely not!"

“Come now, Obi-Wan, make Qui-Gon proud, drink the swamp water.”

“You’re the sentry; I thought sentinels were known for their fearlessness,” He teased, playfully prodding at the pride associated with her sentinel status.

Unfazed, she shook her head, playfully accusing him, “Coward,” before boldly bringing the spoon to her lips and sampling the stew. Regret was instantaneous.

As her face contorted into a look of sheer disgust, she groaned, biting her lips inward to keep from expelling the substance. Her defensive posture resembled a creature recoiling from an unpleasant surprise as she dropped the spoon into the murky swamp water, a culinary nemesis that seemed to take personal offense. Obi-Wan couldn't contain the laughter that bubbled up within him rivaling the roar of a Wookiee. It erupted like a geyser, a release of pent-up tension, and the laughter poured out of him in uncontrollable waves, echoing through the room. The sheer absurdity of the situation fueled his amusement, and he found himself leaning on the table for support, laughing harder than he had in weeks. With wide eyes and an audible groan, she valiantly attempted to wrestle the offensive taste into submission, which only made him laugh harder.

With wide eyes and an exaggerated groan of displeasure, Cressida dropped the offending spoon into the swamp water as if it had bitten her, her eyes desperately searching for salvation. Meanwhile, in the midst of this gastronomic chaos, Obi-Wan, now sprawled on the floor, held his sides as if trying to contain his laughter within the confines of his body. It was as if the sheer force of his amusement had rendered him unable to sit upright. The scene unfolded like a comedic masterpiece, with Cressida's struggles and Obi-Wan's uncontrollable laughter creating a tableau of pure mirth.

Despite the daunting challenge, Cressida summoned her physical training outside the influence of the Force, conquering the spoonful of the culinary concoction in several determined swallows. Her victory was marked by a post-swallow shudder that rippled through her entire being, and she couldn't help but let her tongue hang out in a comical display. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan, still clutching his sides, had tears streamed down his face as he watched Cressida's valiant effort, finding immense amusement in the unexpected respite from the prevailing heaviness that had haunted them for days.

"It's vile!"

In her desperate attempt to banish the unpleasant taste, she continually opened and closed her mouth, her eyes fixed on Obi-Wan's cup of water, revealing a desperate thirst for relief. With a mischievous glint in his eye, Obi-Wan beat her to it and held the water just out of her reach, goading her until she practically scaled the table in pursuit. Amused by her antics, he continued to laugh at her desperation.

In the past, she would have resorted to tugging on his braid, a playful gesture no longer available since it was now gone. Instead, she opted for his collar, giving it a firm tug that pulled him back and caused the water to splash on the table. Unable to allow her to suffer any longer, Obi-Wan surrendered the coveted drink. As she took generous sips, hoping in vain for respite, she groaned between gulps

"This is not fit for human consumption!"

"Did the water help?" Obi-Wan asked, still chuckling, his laughter unabated, fully aware of the predictable answer.

In response, Cressida forcefully exhaled in his direction, unleashing an aroma that hit him like a gust of wind from the darkest corners of the galaxy. Obi-Wan recoiled, a look of sheer horror on his face, as if he had just faced a Sith Lord's malevolent Force attack. Fortunately, the odor passed quicker than the taste, leaving him only with the memory of the unpleasant aroma. Meanwhile, Cressida's suffering continued, and his laughter returned. It had been years since he had seen this side of Cressida—funny, at ease, and thoroughly disgusted.

Her expression turned sharp, and she shot him a glare that could have cut through Durasteel.

"If you don't stop laughing, I'm going to leave you."

Her threat was delivered with a playful undertone, a joke. Truth be told, she was happy to see him enjoying a good laugh, even if it came at the cost of her culinary misadventure. His smile had a way of brightening the room, and she wouldn't trade that for anything.

Obi-Wan, toeing the line of good humor, decided to playfully throw in the towel. He raised his hands in mock defeat, after all, the Jedi were known for bringing balance to the galaxy—time to live up to that reputation. He reached for the dreaded spoon in solidarity, giving it a comical salute before bravely taking a bite in an act of penance. Attempting to swallow it in one gulp didn't quite work out, but, credit to Obi-Wan, he only hesitated briefly, a quizzical expression on his face as he pondered whether anything could be worse than what he had already endured.

Obi-Wan's response was immediate—a full-fledged gag reflex that far surpassed Cressida's, leading him to cover his mouth in a desperate attempt to avoid the impending upheaval caused by the foul concoction. As he contorted in exaggerated gestures of what seemed like a mix of disgust and pain, Cressida couldn't help but burst into laughter, and it felt as if the Force itself found amusement, sharing a cosmic chuckle at their expense. Despite their roles as Jedi, in that comical moment, they reveled in the realization that even the mighty Jedi Knight could be reduced to animated hilarity by a simple bowl of swamp stew. She pictured the amused spirits of their late masters having a hearty laugh from their celestial vantage point in the Force.

Here stood the man who had bested a Sith Lord, a Jedi Padawan of fearless courage, charm, and unwavering determination. Yet, the current spectacle before her was a stark departure—a tongue hanging out, portraying a kicked puppy facing an unjust penalty. The contrast between these two versions of Obi-Wan, the valiant Jedi and the humorously defeated one, created a comical scene that had her rolling with laughter.

As Obi-Wan grappled with the lingering aftertaste of the dreadful stew, Cressida couldn't resist teasing him, holding the glass of water just beyond his reach in a karmic twist. Despite momentarily forgetting about the glass, Obi-Wan swiftly focused on it. Intent on not letting her win, he summoned it with the Force, sending it toward him like a streak of lightning. With a triumphant gulp, he downed what little was left, only to be immediately assaulted by the infamous aftertaste. Panting like a dog, he struggled to exhale the foul flavor.

“How is it possible that it gets worse?” He groaned in exasperation, shuddering as Cressida did.

“Surprise.”

Pleased with the outcome and relishing in his laughter, along with the added amusement of witnessing his struggle with the repulsive dish, she couldn't help but flash a triumphant grin. Her mission to hear his genuine laughter, had succeeded, making the endeavor worthwhile.

She delved into her pocket, a carefree smile playing on her lips. With a shake of her head, a sense of familiar lightheartedness enveloped her as she pulled out a small bar of chocolate. The wrapper crinkled as she snapped off a piece, savoring the sweet and smooth relief it offered, countering the lingering aftertaste of the dubious stew. A sigh of contentment escaped her.

The sound of the crinkling wrapper drew Obi-Wan's attention, and he extended his hand expectantly. She noticed his puppy-eyed expression, silently pleading for a share. Momentarily indifferent, she watched him with amusement. However, true to their shared history of banter and pranks, she mischievously kept the chocolate just out of his reach, maintaining the playful spirit of their ongoing games.

"Are you truly so heartless, to let me suffer through the torment of this aftertaste?" His face twisted in misery, desperate for relief.

"Maybe," she replied with a sly grin.

"Cressida, please," he implored, injecting a touch of mock desperation into his plea.

Her amusement deepened. "You call that begging?"

“I beg of you, please, have mercy on my poor taste buds.” His words sought respite, even if there was a lightheartedness in his voice. However, it was the unbridled body-rocking laughter that she truly aimed to provoke. She chuckled and extended a piece to him, which he eagerly popped into his mouth, sighing in relief as the sweetness coated his tongue, banishing the lingering memory of the foul stew.

"That’s what you get for laughing at me," she teased, popping another piece of chocolate into her mouth.

"You wanted me to laugh," he countered, a playful glint in his eyes.

As their laughter faded, Cressida relented, and the two indulged in the sweet escape of chocolate, leaving the taste of the earlier dreadful stew as a distant memory. A light smile graced Obi-Wan's face.

"I did," she admitted with a genuine smile, handing him another piece of chocolate. He accepted it with a smile that held more light than dark. In that moment, she caught a glimpse of the Obi-Wan she knew, gradually emerging from the shadows that had veiled him. “So, are you man enough for another bite?” she playfully challenged, holding out the spoon as if it were a weapon and the soup was a battle. “Or are you still a padawan?”

Hands raised in surrender, Obi-Wan, with a twinkle in his eye, conjured an impression of Yoda, proclaiming, “Padawans to the will of the force we all are.” Her chuckle signaled her own surrender, and she set her spoon down. Once more, the two of them had been bested by the swamp water soup.

As their laughter subsided, a warmth settled in the room, replacing the earlier somberness. With a genuine expression, Obi-Wan shared.

"It's good to see you again." Obi-Wan leaned back, a playful glint in his eyes as he inquired, "How long are you home for?" Cressida's initial radiant smile underwent a subtle transformation, burdened by unspoken secrets and hidden sorrows—layers she couldn't unveil, not even to him.

"I managed to delay my next assignment until after Qui-Gon's pyre," she answered, her tone suggesting a reluctance to delve into the topic. The gesture was kind, and Obi-Wan understood it wasn't solely for him. Qui-Gon had played a pivotal role in Cressida's life, especially after the death of her own master, Deva L’Rue. She had always spoken of Qui-Gon's kind eyes and the warmth that could dispel even the coldest nights. "I wanted to be here for him, to say goodbye, and I wanted to see you."

“I didn’t see you there.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Would you?” She replied in a shadowy tone, a hint of a smirk.

It wasn't the wisest question, and deep down, Obi-Wan was aware of that fact. Still, he couldn't resist the urge to inquire about Cressida's next destination. Her response was met with a quiet, contemplative look, revealing nothing more than the simple truth that she would depart come morning. The weight of her impending departure struck him, but what she revealed next hit even harder.

With an expression bathed with pain, she uttered words that sent a shiver through him:

"I can't tell you where I'm going, but if you see me, you must act as though I'm a stranger. It has to be as if I don't exist."

The notion of treating her as though she didn't exist felt almost unbearable, a heavy burden on his heart. The harsh reality sank in – the likelihood of their paths crossing again was slim at best and even if they did, it was likely that she would see him but he wouldn’t see her. Beyond the confines of this room, the prospect of seeing her again seemed distant, and the awareness of this truth was a poignant pang of sadness in his chest.

He would miss the warmth of her smile, the shared pranks that brought laughter, and the stories they wove together – moments that were uniquely theirs. As the impending farewell loomed, Obi-Wan grappled with the ache of knowing he would never experience those cherished connections again. The sorrow cut deep, akin to the pain of losing Master Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon was gone, one with the Force, while Cressida would remain alive but lost to him, existing in a realm unreachable. And that was somehow much worse.

"Promise me you’ll be safe and you won’t give in to the darkness," Obi-Wan pleaded, his voice a gentle yet earnest melody, woven with a hint of vulnerability that only those close to him could discern. He was aware of the apparent futility of such a request, but the weight of his concern overpowered any logical restraint.

“Only fools make promises they can’t keep,” Cressida replied, her words resonating in the air like a melancholic melody. The truth within her response bore a potent sting, emphasizing the harsh reality they faced. “But I won’t go down without a fight.”

She wanted to tell him not to forget her, but that would defeat the purpose – she needed to be forgotten. A mere rumor, a hint of deja vu at best and just as easily brushed aside.

Her eyes, brimming with unspoken feelings, quickly blinked against the ambient light. A hasty attempt to shield herself from the approaching sadness as she shifted her gaze toward the door. Leaving now seemed the smart choice, a way to dodge any further pain they might endure.

Following the sensible choice, she slowly rose to her feet, facing Obi-Wan with a mixture of longing and sorrow. Silently, she wished to conjure words that could make their impending farewell more bearable, knowing deep down that no verbal solace existed for such heartache. As she prepared to take her leave, Obi-Wan's hand shot out, enveloping hers in a desperate grip. His eyes, once again shrouded in darkness and fragility, conveyed a plea that transcended mere words.

“Cress!” She froze looking at the death grip he had on her hand.

“I know it’s silly, that it’s selfish, but I’m not ready to go out there, yet.” His voice echoed with a genuine urgency, a plea for a reprieve from the impending separation. "Stay for a while longer, please,"

The vulnerability in his gaze exposing the depth of his need for companionship amidst the storm of emotions. In response, she nodded, acquiescing, and settled back into her seat. It would be fair to say she did it for him, but in truth she sat back down for her sake too. More than content to spend some more time by his side.

As they rested side by side, she laid her head on his shoulder, their hands clasped together naturally, fingers not quite lacing, and a tranquility enveloped them.

An unspoken change seemed to occur between them, a subtle shift in their connection that lingered in the air for the past two hours. They both sensed it but couldn't quite grasp its nature or how to address it, then there was also the possibility that it didn’t need addressing. Some things could simply be.

He couldn’t envision a world where if he saw her, he could say nothing, do nothing, one where he would have to simply watch her go. The weight of the thought was unbearable.

“I’m going to miss our conversations,” Obi-Wan murmured, she nodded, responding with a despondent "me too."

Obi-Wan looked down at Cressida, his thoughts meandering in the silence. Her padawan braid too, was absent yet he wasn’t sure he’d ever be used to it, he followed the path it once took intertwined with the rest of her hair. The strands cascaded freely around her shoulders, a departure from the neatly woven braid she usually wore.

“You–,”

He wasn't sure why he suddenly intended to express his amazement at her beauty, but he halted mid-sentence, realizing the danger of his words. A subtle smile played on her lips as she reached up to the spot where his padawan braid used to be, giving the short strands a playful tug; it was far less effective. He was going to leave a trail of broken hearts across the galaxy, starting with hers.

“Are you afraid?”

She replied softly, almost reluctantly, “Yes,” her voice carrying a vulnerability that echoed in the dimly lit room. She continued, “The thought of being on my own for the first time, truly on my own—it feels like standing on the edge of the galaxy, facing something vast and unknown. And I feel like I’m a Padawan again, and it all feels suffocating.” With those words, she pulled her knees up onto the bed, cradling them close to her chest.

His heart ached, and without hesitation, he lifted his arm, wrapping it around her shoulders. In the solace of that embrace, she curled into him, inhaling deeply.

The fabric of his robes carried the same scent — a gentle blend of soft linen, reminiscent of incense wafting through the temple corridors, intertwined with the faint aroma of propulsion engines humming from passing ships. It was an olfactory symphony that felt like home.

She tried not to think about how much she would miss that smell.

“I’ll miss your smile and your jokes,” She murmured, punctuating her words with a gentle tap on his nose, coaxing forth that familiar, brilliant smile.

“I’ll miss your wit; delightfully dry but very warm and forgiving at the same time,”

Goodbye was inevitable, a looming storm on the horizon, and with each passing moment, they only delayed the impending downpour of pain. Obi-Wan felt the weight of the parting settling on his shoulders, sorrow he wished to stave off for just a little longer, he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

As if the word ‘yet’ could somehow serve as a buffer against the stark reality that awaited them.

Nestled comfortably in the circle of his embrace, she seemed so small, her knees drawn up to her chest, seeking solace within the haven of his arms. Sensing his lingering gaze, she looked up, and like a force beyond their control, a magnetic pull drew them closer. Their foreheads meeting, creating an intimate cocoon, noses brushing against each other in shared breaths that spoke of the intimacy they sought to prolong.

A gentle current passed between them, weaving an unseen thread that pulled them closer still, until a delicate adjustment on both their ends, saw their lips just barely brushing. In that fragile moment, a final delicate tilt led to a soft collision of lips—a kiss so tender it felt like a mere, featherlight caress, leaving behind a tingling sensation.

The fragile nature of the kiss spoke volumes, leaving a stillness in the room. After the span of a heartbeat, as if testing the waters.

Over the span of two years since their last encounter, Obi-Wan underwent a metamorphosis, elevating him beyond mere roguish charm to undeniably handsome. His essence, once a portrayal of youthful exuberance, had undergone a nuanced evolution that she almost missed. It was like revisiting a piece of art after a few years and seeing it in a new light, where new brushstrokes and colors revealed themselves, now discernible to a more mature gaze.

A strength now emanated from him, his shoulders broad and commanding, bearing the weight of accumulated experience and a more defined muscular frame. His jawline, once soft and smooth, had become chiseled and shadowed by a hint of stubble—a departure from the meticulous grooming of his earlier days. Even the hand clasping hers was marked by the disciplined use of a lightsaber, now carried a seasoned ruggedness, evidence of a weapon wielded not just in defense but in the heat of anger.

At the same time, beside him, the quiet symphony of the last two years unfolded, reminiscent of a familiar melody with newfound nuances to savor. The auburn cascade of her hair had departed from its habitual braid, flowing freely around her shoulders, appearing longer, darker, and richer. Her eyes, once vivid and expressive, now seemed stormier and grayer than usual, as if they already held the weight of countless secrets. They mirrored the tumult within, adding a layer of complexity to the evolving beauty that captivated his gaze. The subtle coral tint of her lips whispered an understated allure, and as his focus shifted, he traced the delicate curve of her neck. No longer possessing the innocence of a teenage girl, her form embraced the grace of womanhood. Soft curves delicately outlining an hourglass silhouette.

They leaned in again. This time, slightly firmer, the tingling sensation less intense but replaced by a growing warmth that enveloped them. Instead of breaking apart, they remained, savoring the connection.

Something shifted in the air when their lips met a third time, it wasn't a fleeting brush; it was a deliberate connection, a subtle acknowledgment of the emotions swirling around them.

As the older of the two Jedi, it perhaps fell into the scope of Obi-Wan’s responsibility to remind them both of their commitment to the Jedi Code and how what this was quickly becoming was drifting into a very gray territory. But he didn’t. All reason, logic and common sense demanded that he take his hands off Cressida, remind her of their ideals, wish her well and send her on her way, knowing he’d never to see her again.

Yet, he couldn't do it. He didn’t want to.

He hadn’t felt good in weeks and a stubborn resolve settled in, hadn’t they both been through enough to warrant just this one little indulgence? It would be their secret. He trusted Cressida to keep it.

Similar meetings and rendezvous between other Jedi were commonplace, this was no different, except somehow it was different. Words were unnecessary, but the very essence of their longstanding relationship teetered on the edge of transformation and neither seemed bothered by it.

"Never again," He whispered, his voice a soft caress that barely concealed the lingering uncertainty. They hovered on the precipice, lips nearly touching, both craving more, her face briefly contorted in confusion. "Do you agree? Beyond these walls, who knows if our paths will ever cross again?"

Her response was a hesitant nod, understanding what he was alluding to. "Even if they did, we couldn’t reach out to one another."

"Exactly," he exhaled, a sigh of relief that carried warmth, the atmosphere around them deepening like a smoldering ember.

"Your journey leads to Anakin." Cressida murmured, attuned to the subtle signals he conveyed. She dared another brush of lips, and he didn't pull away, in fact his arm around her shoulders drew her in more.

"And you'll serve the Council of First Knowledge in the shadows," Their coded responses granting them permission to explore the yearning that lingered between them.

"The Council doesn't explicitly prohibit physical connections," Her lips hovering just shy of his but aching to touch his again. "Only attachments."

This was dangerous, what they were saying, what they were doing, but it wasn't completely unreasonable. The idea hung in the air and they weren’t the first Jedi to entertain it, a place where physical closeness could happen without deeply connecting the soul—a tacit understanding within the Jedi Order, shared but unacknowledged.

"Only attachments,"

"We wouldn't be the first Jedi to—" Her sentence was lost beneath the weight of his more assertive kiss, his calloused hand cradling the gentle curve of her neck.

"And certainly not the last," he declared with more confidence, inviting a deeper exploration with the soft, lingering brush of his tongue against her lips.

"I have until morning,"

The ticking clock, counting down to their inevitable parting, stirred a quiet desperation in Obi-Wan. Sensing her already leaning into his touch, a gentle nudge on her back prompted a fluid response — she swiftly climbed into his lap, fingers weaving up his chest and twining around his neck.

Left with only a precious few hours, a fleeting pocket of time, really, it wasn't enough to satiate their hunger for each other's presence, but it would suffice. They both craved a deeper connection, a touch that went beyond the ordinary. While neither was inexperienced in the realm of sexuality, this felt new, an intimate bond unlike anything before. And who better for this exploration? Bound by years of friendship and deep trust, they offered a comfort the other could find nowhere else.

He led her into another kiss, skipping all subtleties, coaxing her mouth open to him with the finesse of a skilled lover. It wasn't reserved or ambiguous; it was a bold manifestation of touch-starved desires; a profound need etched in every shared breath.

Cradled in Obi-Wan's lap as if it were her rightful place, her fingers ran through his hair while their mouths engaged in a dance, relishing every tender touch of lips and the caress of tongues. The lingering taste of chocolate resurfaced in waves, weaving throughout the kiss with every roll of their tongues against one another, adding a layer of sweetness. This shared flavor, this secret bond, forged in chocolate-laced kisses, would resurface in their memories for years to come, whenever the taste or scent danced across their palettes.

Suddenly captivated by the allure that she possessed, painted in this new light as a lover. An unexpected yearning welled up within him, blending seamlessly with a growing desire that defied his initial expectations. The sight of her in this intimate moment no longer felt unfamiliar; it flowed as a natural progression in the intricate dance of their evolving relationship.

As his hand firmly pressed against the curve of her hip, drawing her into a closer embrace, the ambient temperature in the room seemed to escalate, creating an almost stifling warmth. The weight of his Jedi robes, once a symbol of order and duty, now felt burdensome and confining in the charged atmosphere.

A subtle exhale escaped him, a sigh of relief, as her skilled hands navigated the labyrinth of intricate knots, ties, and fastenings that held the layers of his attire together. Guided by a well-practiced muscle memory, her fingers moved with a nimble precision, each deliberate motion filled with a growing sense of urgency. The anticipation hummed in the air, creating an electrifying tension that resonated through every touch. The soft sounds of loosened fabric rustling in the room, adding a tactile rhythm to the charged atmosphere. It was as if the very act of undressing became a dance, a prelude to an intimate connection that transcended the boundaries of their usual roles.

But the soft click of his lightsaber clasp being freed of his belt resonated like a branch snapping. It found its place on a nearby table, guided gracefully by the unseen hand of the Force. As their lips briefly parted, their eyes met, silently probing for any flicker of hesitation or doubt. It was like a suspended dance, each metallic sound echoing the unspoken question lingering in the air. With nothing but the soft click of Obi-Wan's saber belt filling the space, it felt like an unspoken conversation happening amidst the sounds of undressing, each click asking, ‘Are we sure about this?’

The realization hit her that this wasn’t some fleeting or faceless lover; it was Obi-Wan. Somehow that knowledge made her more certain than ever, any lingering traces of guilt over the forbidden nature of this physical entanglement and its closeness to the rule regarding attachment faded.

He ceased to be just a trusted friend in that moment; he became a source of warmth, strength, and desire. A physical presence she craved, one who could offer not just comfort but also pleasure.

The ever-present storms swirling within Cressida's gaze were now tranquil and gentle, while the crystalline blue of Obi-Wan's eyes remained unwavering, shimmering with contentment and serenity. They both knew there was no turning back, and strangely, it brought them peace.

With the belt absent, his tunic hung looser, now unrestrained, her delicate hands made their way up the expanse of his chest. With a final tug, the linen fabric slipped off his shoulders, fluttering lifelessly to join the discarded belt.

Her eyes first traversed the canvas of Obi-Wan's body, starting from their shared eye contact before drifting down the length of his neck to his collar and the smooth expanse of his chest, and down his stomach. Appreciating the unblemished contours that spoke of youth and untarnished strength. Unmarred by the scars time would imbue on him. It was a captivating display of vitality, the hard, well-defined lines held her attention, ultimately leading her gaze down to the laces of his trousers.

Her fingers, possessed by a tactile curiosity of their own, followed the path her eyes had taken, eliciting a subtle reaction from Obi-Wan's muscles flexing under her touch. She followed the soft trail of light-colored hair that descended into his trousers, this Obi-Wan was different from the one she had known in her youth. He had transcended the realm of being just a boy, a mere padawan; now before her as a man, a Jedi Knight. These titles, only mere words, were devoid of meaning in the grand scheme of the cosmos, somehow only made her want him more.

Despite the years of their enduring friendship, she had never seen him out of his robes, never witnessed him in any state of undress. The revelation of his robust physical form unfolded before her like a long-awaited revelation, and it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that she found herself momentarily captivated by the sight before her.

The self-assured essence of Obi-Wan's renowned smirk subtly resurfaced with the slightest upturn of his lips. In that brief pause, he basked in the way she gazed at him. He knew he shouldn’t be vain, but he couldn't deny the satisfaction derived from witnessing her captivated stare.

With a tender encouragement, he drew her into another kiss, skillfully navigating past her lips with a practiced ease. His mouth moving against hers, slanting in a hungry kiss that savored every trace of sweetness he could find. Cressida's soft breathing played like a sweet melody, her constant featherlight touches and caresses along his neck and sternum, sent goosebumps racing across his skin, prompting a delightful murmur of contentment through his lips to hers. Studying his reactions and adjusting her approach accordingly, growing bolder and uninhibited, from soft, and ticklish that made him shudder, to the light sting of her nails leaving red lines down his stomach, each touch elicited a distinct response.

In lives dedicated to serving the galaxy, such indulgences were rare and often frowned upon, sacrifices made in the pursuit of duty. Yet, in this intimate moment, a different kind of service unfolded—one that went beyond expectations and quieted lingering doubts. A service to each other.

The weight of a single kiss was minuscule but as they grew more passionate and more frequent, they began to build up and Obi-Wan’s body responded. He gave a groan when a smooth rock of Cressida’s hips against this growing erection made him painfully aware of just how much of an effect they were having on one another.

His breath hitched at her touch, and his lips trembled, as if holding back unspoken words. Disengaging from the kiss, he circled his arm around her thigh while the other secured her lower back. With a seamless motion, he executed a flip, reversing their positions. As Cressida descended into the bed, Obi-Wan now loomed over her. His arms formed a cage on either side of her head, locked in place as he sank down for another kiss.

A deep, guttural sound escaped him as she skillfully wrapped her leg around his hips, drawing him in with a subtle and inviting roll. The ease with which she moved, exuding an innate intimacy, took him by surprise, as if they shared the familiarity of long-term lovers rather than the reality of their connection. An urgent energy coursed through both of them, and he sensed her fingers eagerly seeking the laces of his trousers.

Smirking against her lips, he left a lingering kiss before straightening up at the foot of the bed. He found amusement and intrigue in her slightly tousled appearance, paying particular attention to the way her gaze remained fixated not on his face but on the skilled movements of his hands as he worked on the laces of his trousers.

His fingers moved with a practiced grace, effortlessly unraveling the familiar knots while keeping his gaze locked onto hers. The air around them crackled with an electric charge, a mix of desire and a playful spark that danced between them. With the laces loose, he worked off his boots, each soft thud adding to the rhythm of their shared moment.

Obi-Wan's eyes held a fiery intensity, a playful smile playing on his lips. The way he looked at her, coupled with the easy progression of their actions, made everything feel just right.

She moved to the end of the bed, on her knees, bringing her only to align herself with the level of his chest, her fingers blazing a tantalizing path that stirred a visceral response, each touch sending shivers through him. When she cupped his erection through the fabric of his trousers, the room hummed with intense energy as his hips instinctively responded, rocking into her hand, finding pleasure in the firm petting, moving in tandem with the deliberate, unhurried rhythm of her caresses.

His eyes drifted shut in contentment as he felt a soft guiding pull on his trousers, coaxing him forward. He complied without hesitation, moving until one knee brushed against the mattress edge taking some of his weight, lowering himself slightly.

He surrendered to the sensations her caresses evoked, a ripple of pleasure surged through his body. His hips moved instinctually, pressing into the warmth of her palm, seeking out the pressure that sparked such intense delight.

With a gentle but insistent tug, his trousers gave way, the cool kiss of air against his heated skin contrasted with the warmth of her touch. Her fingers wrapped around him firmly, their steeliness belying the tenderness within her grasp, and from his parted lips escaped an involuntary exhale, sharp and laden with relief and want.

He watched her through half-lidded eyes as she began to slowly stroke him. Exploring him with purpose, each touch an experiment, an objective to learn what he liked, studying the language of his body. With a steadying breath, Obi-Wan reached down to overlay her hand with his own. His touch, suggesting rather than demanding, teaching her a rhythm that he liked—slow, but firm purposeful strokes that coaxed forth waves of pleasure.

His world narrowed to the slide of her skin against his, the pressure of her fingers, a tide of bliss rose within him, cresting with each deliberate caress, and his head fell back. His grip on her hand relaxed, arm descending heavily to his side.

“Yes, like that,” He breathed out, his voice barely a whisper thick with desire, accompanied by gentle breaths escaping in relaxed huffs.

She paused, just for a moment, to take in the sight before her. His chest rose and fell with a languid ease, the tension that had once claimed his shoulders now dissipated into the ether. Her gaze traveled across his handsome features softened in bliss, the arch of relaxation that bowed his brow, the serene slope of his cheeks, and the gentle parting of lips.

Bringing him pleasure filled her with profound satisfaction, to see him so undone. Completely relaxed and unburdened, knowing she was the reason for it, felt more rewarding than any thought of climax. She craved more of this power over his state of being, desiring to keep him in serenity and pleasure, wanting to make the most of it before their time ran out.

A sharper inhalation escaped him, replaced by a low groan as Cressida embarked on a heated journey down his stomach, mapping every contour and ridge of muscle, each press of her lips a deeper etch into the canvas of his body. A crescendo of sensation built as she explored him, teeth grazing his flesh in love bites that spoke of primal urges and the craving to claim and be claimed.

“Cress…”

Her lips left a trail pulsating with cosmic energy, fingers, attuned to the unspoken cues he'd shown her, continued to stroke him, causing his cock to throb under her skilled touch. Pearlescent precum beaded at the tip, a temptation she couldn't resist. With the pad of her thumb, she smeared the slick essence in lazy circles around the crown, her movements deliberate and languid. The sound that escaped Obi-Wan was pure pleasure—raw and unrestrained—as her thumb moved in a hypnotic dance, spreading the liquid fire that seeped from him.

As the circle of her thumb continued its leisurely glide over his sensitive flesh, he leaned into it, his chest heaved in deep and shaky breaths, the rhythm of his breaths growing erratic. He let loose a deep groan and gasp when she sank onto the bed and her lips closed over his weeping tip. The depth of the warmth of her mouth was a velvet glove around his length. Her tongue painted strokes of sheer pleasure with every swirl, causing many a deep stumbling moan and a visible shudder rippled across his entire being.

Her movements were unhurried, each lap of her tongue against him, coaxing forth more of his essence which she greeted with eager acceptance. With each inch she took in, she paused, allowing him to feel the heat, the moisture, the snug embrace of her mouth before retreating and returning with equal fervor. Obi-Wan's fingers twitched at his sides, slowly finding their way to thread through Cressida's auburn hair, gently tugging with each pulse of desire that shot through him.

The rhythmic movement of her head drew him deeper into a haze, his hips canting forward in an involuntary plea for more of her enveloping warmth. Taking what she could, but unable to swallow him completely, but what she couldn’t, her hands continued to stroke, caress and squeeze. He felt like he was falling into a thick fog, as he met the back of her throat and he moaned as she pressed a bit further.

She indulged him offering soft, sweet, indulgent suckles, lapping up more of the substance as it dripped from his cock. Lavishing attention on him, taking more of him into her mouth, basking in his ungentlemanly moans, making sure to leave no part of him unpleasured.

The vibrations from a moan—it was unclear whose—sent electrifying shockwaves through him. The blissful wet warmth of her mouth enveloping the length of his shaft, the soft flick of her tongue over his slit swirling, tasting. The instinctive thrusts of his hips, coupled with the crescendo of his thundering heart rate and hurried breathing signaled the rapid approach of an uncontrolled descent into pleasure. The precipice loomed, a sweet descent into abandon, and he edged ever closer, a hair's breadth from falling into oblivion.

He released her hair, his palm cradled her jaw, a silent signal that stalled the rhythm of their intimate dance. With a gentle insistence, he coaxed his hips away from the seductive embers of her mouth, refusing to be a selfish lover.

Gasping softly, Cressida lifted her gaze, her breath a warm caress against his sensitized skin. Her lips, glistening with saliva, parted slightly as Obi-Wan's thumb traced the soft curve with a painter’s precision. A faint shake of his head, subtle but meaningful, conveyed his message clearer than any word could: this was about them, not just him. She kissed his thumb, her teeth captured the pad gently, while her tongue played a teasing game, flicking over it with a playful intimacy that tested his resolve.

"Enough," he whispered, the word barely a breath yet heavy with intent. Obi-Wan's hands were tender as they guided Cressida in one fluid motion, she was on her feet, caught within the circle of his arms.

The kiss came without hesitation, fiery and demanding leaving no room for restraint. As the kiss deepened, Obi-Wan began a descent of passion along her neck, the warmth of his breath acting like a narcotic, bringing about a pleasant haze.

Each kiss was like a starburst, its heat searing her sensitized skin, leaving behind a trail of stardust. Her head tilted back, offering him more space to explore, to claim.

“You’ll bring a man to his knees with that mouth,” he murmured into the crook of her neck. The vibrations of his voice tickled her flesh, sending waves of anticipation through her core.

His lips found her pulse, latching onto the rhythm that hammered beneath her skin—a testament to the arousal coursing through her veins. It was a moment of surrender, of giving in to the torrential pull between them, and she could only clutch at his shoulders, grounded only by his strong embrace and the relentless pursuit of his mouth against her neck.

"Need these off," he murmured, his voice low and husky, eyes glinting with desire as they took in the unfamiliar sight of her clothing - an unusual departure from the usual Jedi robes.

The utilitarian style of her outfit, he thought, would have blended perfectly with the crowd outside of the temple, a far cry from the typical aesthetic within these hallowed halls. It hugged her figure elegantly; it molded against her curves, accentuating her feminine form. He couldn't help but admire how well it highlighted every enticing aspect of her physique.

His heart raced in anticipation of what lay beneath. As their lips met in a heated kiss, his fingers trailed down her back, feeling the soft fabric of her camisole, pulling the garment off over her head before his own hands roamed freely over her bare skin. He reveled in the contrast between her delicate form and his rough hands, savoring every moment of skin-on-skin contact. The discarded camisole joined the pile of clothes scattered on the floor, forgotten in their passion.

As his fingers traced along her body, he marveled at the softness of her curves, a stark contrast to the sharp edges and defined muscles he was used to. He explored every inch of her, from the gentle rise of her breasts to the smooth expanse of her stomach and the small dip of her navel. Every curve and contour entranced him as he moved lower, relishing in the feel of her under his touch.

While the visual allure had been captivating, Obi-Wan desired more than mere sight; he craved an exploration that engaged all five senses. He ushered her onto her back, embracing the softness of the bed, and for a minute she lay there under his gaze. Until now the sensual exchange of teasing and pleasure had reached its zenith, remaining largely one sided, and now the time for reciprocity had arrived.

His desire burned to taste and savor every inch of her body, an urgent need to dive deeper into their shared passion. Without hesitation, he joined her on the bed, crawling over her and covering her body with his own. Dropping to capture her lips in a searing kiss, opening his mouth to enjoy the lazy, sensual strokes of her tongue.

He blazed a path marked by faint red marks down the hollow of her throat, creating a deliberate descent to accommodate his exploration. Her skin was now completely exposed to him, inviting touch and tasting. Each movement of his lips and tongue was deliberate, making for an enticing descent that only intensified her anticipation. With every kiss and lick, she felt a rush of warmth and desire spread throughout her body. His gentle caresses were like sparks of electricity, igniting passion within her. The taste of her skin lingered on his lips, drawing him in with its sweetness and addictiveness. She trembled with pleasure at his touch, yearning for more of his skillful exploration.

With a sense of familiarity born from past experiences, he moved lower, his mouth finding the swell of her breast in a delicate dance. The sound of her breath quickened and her body arched in response to his attentions. Emboldened by her reactions, he proceeded with purpose and skill, exploring every inch of her skin with his lips and tongue. Each gentle suction on her nipple sent waves of pleasure crashing through her body, causing her mind to short-circuit in pure bliss.

She couldn't even finish saying his name before he was kissing and teasing his way down the plane of her stomach. A roguish glint danced in his eyes as he surveyed the damp trail his mouth had left on her skin, before trailing his tongue just above the waistband of her trousers. Locking gazes for a lingering moment, he blew a soft breath against the damp skin, reveling in the sight of goosebumps rising on her flushed skin. The intensity between them continued to grow as they explored each other's bodies with reckless abandon

“Obi-”

A smirk played on his lips. His fingers curled around the leather of her boot, tugging it off and flinging it carelessly over his shoulder. The sound of impact echoed in the room as the second boot joined its mate against the wall. With a graceful ease, he moved back up the bed towards her. His movements were slow and calculated, like a predator stalking its prey. He reached for her waistband, deftly undoing the clasp and pulling her trousers down her legs. Each inch of skin that was revealed was met with fiery kisses, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Her skin was warm silk under his palms, “Close your eyes.” His voice sounded different, lower, darker, heavier with lust. Impossible to ignore, so she complied.

The silence between them stretched on, the air thick with tension and anticipation. She could feel his warm breath placing a soft kiss that sent little electric shocks through her skin. Slowly, he made his way up her legs, leaving a trail of kisses along the way - her ankle, knee, thigh, and finally her hip. A shiver ran down her spine as he dipped his tongue into her navel, teasing and tantalizing. She wanted to open her eyes and take in the sight of him, but she resisted, focusing instead on short controlled breaths to maintain some semblance of calmness.

Just when she thought she had found her center again, Obi-Wan shattered it with a fluttering of his eyelids and a tender kiss between her legs. As his tongue traced the seam of her lips, a rush of desire washed over her, melting away any remaining resistance. In that moment, she was completely lost in the sensations he created with each gentle flick and stroke of his tongue.

Her calm broke instantly, her lips parted but not real sound came out right away, only a desperate, mewling cry. His fingers traced delicate patterns along her inner thighs, adding to the sensations created by his skilled tongue. She couldn't control herself, her hips moving against him in search of more pleasure.

Searching for purpose, her hands tangled with the linens, gripping them between her fingers, desperate for something to occupy themselves with. The lines of the sheets granted her mind a momentary easement, their softness offering a tactile anchor. But they were a poor substitute for the warmth of Obi-Wan's skin; she wanted to touch him, her fingers began to cramp from her grip on the linens and she reached for him.

Reveling in the soft texture of Obi-Wan's hair. With a sense of relief, she combed her fingers through the short strands, savoring the sensation of them brushing against her palms. Occasionally, stroking the tips of his ears, eliciting a pleasurable shiver from Obi-Wan. He visibly melted into her touch, silently pleading for more of her soothing caress.

The warmth of his breath, the soft wetness of his tongue and the occasional featherlight strokes of his fingers offering exploratory touches over her skin continued to stir up a crucible of competent sensations working towards a boiling point of inevitable pleasure. His pace was lazy and relaxed, offering the same intimate attention she’d given him finding a profound satisfaction in the way she writhed against his mouth and into his touch. Seeking out and easily honing in on that little delicate pearl of nerves he offered gentle licks and wet open mouthed kisses that had her seeing the stars behind closed eyes. She could scarcely breathe, much less barely able to utter a single syllable that didn’t turn into a moan or a whimper, speech was simply impossible under Obi-Wan’s ministrations.

Her gentle caresses of his ears being the only power she had over him, and it was an odd thing that such a simple touch yielded such a reaction. When he stumbled, it was just enough of a lull for her to regain her ability to think and speak, the need in her voice when she called his name, drew his gaze from her weeping pussy.

“Obi-Wan, please.”

He took in deep breaths, his expression focused as if he was deep in thought. It was a side of Obi-Wan she had never seen before, one that seemed to revel in giving pleasure instead of receiving it. She placed her hand around the back of his neck and used just enough pressure to make him abandon what he was doing and sink into her mouth. She couldn't resist the urge to taste his lips, now flavored with her own essence.

His aching desire was evident as his erection brushed against her stomach, causing both of them to shudder with pleasure. He wanted to take her right then and there, but he wasn't sure if she was ready.

"Open your mouth," he whispered, tracing her lips with his fingers and sending shivers down her spine.

She hesitated at his request, but quickly gave in when she saw the concern in his eyes. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss, savoring the taste of his moan. Her hips rolled against his hard cock, showing him just how much she wanted him.

"It’s alright, I don't need it," she said, taking his finger into her mouth and sucking on it like she had done to his cock not long ago. "I need you."

She sucked gently, feeling him stiffen further against her, an embodiment of their shared longing.

His reaction was immediate; his eyes flared wide, a visceral response to the intimate caress. She felt his chest rise and fall with a heavy breath, his heart racing beneath the warm skin.

With a reluctant shake of his head, as if to dispel the haze of overwhelming arousal, he withdrew his finger from the wet warmth of her mouth. The slick path it traced over her skin was a silent tease, a fleeting promise before dipping lower. His touch was feather-light, barely there, yet enough to elicit shivers of anticipation. Then, with precision and an almost unbearable gentleness, he slipped between her legs, venturing into the heat that beckoned him with unspoken pleas for fulfillment.

"I know," he whispered against the velvet of her lips.

His words were a silken thread weaving through the heightened tension between them, binding her to the moment. She offered no resistance as his index finger slipped inside her, a gasp escaping her lips that was quickly swallowed by his mouth descending upon hers once more. Her back arched instinctively, pressing her closer into the heat of his body as she moaned with burgeoning desire.

The sensation of his thumb drawing lazy circles over her sensitive flesh sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her. Each circle was a promise, each gentle stroke a tease coaxing her toward an edge she was all too eager to tumble over.

His finger was soon joined by another, both moving within her with an intimacy that had her inner muscles clenching around him. It was a gripping sensation, holding him captive just as much as it promised sweet release. He swelled with anticipation, the thought of being enveloped entirely by her warmth stoking the hunger that simmered within him.

"Want you to come undone for me first," he murmured, his voice a husky timbre that vibrated through her. The rhythm he set with his thumb and fingers was unyielding, a steady pace that was relentless in its pursuit of her climax. Each motion pushed her further, her body responding with mounting urgency to the dance they performed together.

"Come for me, Cress," he coaxed, his breath hot against her skin as kisses peppered her neck, her jaw, returning again and again to claim her mouth. The sound of her name on his lips was a catalyst, fueling the fire within her, propelling her toward the precipice she stood upon. His desire was her command, and she could no more stop the oncoming storm than she could cease the beating of her own heart.

Obi-Wan's breath hitched in his throat, a shudder rippling through him as Cressida arched beneath the attentive ministrations of his hand. With each tender caress, she writhed, her body singing a symphony of pleasure that resonated in the stillness of the room. Her whimpers and moans filled the air, the sweet sounds of surrender mingling with the rhythmic creak of the bed. Shocks of delight traced the pathways of her nerves, her every muscle tensing and releasing in euphoric waves.

As the crescendo of her ecstasy ebbed, she lay quivering beneath his touch—a testament to the depths of pleasure he had coaxed from the core of her being. Her chest rose and fell with the heavy breaths of satisfaction, eyes glazed with an afterglow that spoke more than words ever could.

With only a hint of encouragement, she reached for the fastening of his trousers—an eager accomplice in their mutual undressing. The fabric whispered against his skin as she peeled it away, casting it aside without care. They lay forgotten on the floor, a casualty of their fervent desire.

“You’re so beautiful,”

He’d refrained from the comment earlier, feeling it would only make things harder but at this point it was irrelevant, the pain would come later, for now they would relish in the pleasure as long as it was theirs to claim. For a moment they hesitated but not from fear, not from nervousness, there was just a gentle lull that passed between them. There was peace, warmth and closeness. A subtle shift, a tender adjustment, and Cressida's leg draped over his waist, the gesture as inviting as the crescent moon's arch. It was all the encouragement he needed. Obi-Wan's resolve crumbled like ancient ruins under the caress of time, his hips descending to meet hers with deliberate care.

Cressida's breath caught as Obi-Wan stilled within her, his body taut with restraint. It hadn’t been so long that the sensation was marred by discomfort; rather, it was the realization that Obi-Wan — this man who had been her friend, at times her protector, her unexpected source of solace — was now her lover.

A shared silence hung heavy as he allowed the tremors that wracked her form to ebb away, leaving in their wake a raw openness she had never before experienced. His gaze locked with hers, a silent question lingering within the depths of his eyes, seeking permission to continue this dance of passion.

With a subtle shift of her hips, Cressida answered him more eloquently than words ever could; a silent plea for more, urging him on. He pulled back, only to rock into her again with a slow, deliberate motion that spoke volumes of his control

“Kriff!” He’d never heard her swear before the harsh sound made his cock twitch in response.

Seeking her mouth again, he set a slow rhythm, a little too slow for Cressida’s liking and she tried to nudge him into a faster pace but he resisted, instead compromising by punctuating his thrusts with a bit more force. This seemed to satisfy Cressida and she purred his name, laying siege to his exposed neck, taking care not to leave any marks that would send tongues wagging but also strong enough to leave a lasting impression.

“Cress, let me kiss you.” The neediness in his voice accompanied by his deeper thrusts, prompted her to abandon her pursuits on his skin and she embraced his mouth instead, wrapping her arms around his neck.

The bed gave a subtle creak but neither noticed it, the room filled with murmurs and desperate breaths in between kisses. There were no barriers between them, physical or otherwise and as the warmth of his skin radiated onto hers, she saw something no one else did.

And there he was—Obi-Wan the man—stripped of the Jedi mantle that cloaked his humanity.

Warm, soft, tender, sensual, a bit on the aggressive side but that suited her just fine, every rock of his hips forward saw a wealth of pleasure surging forward as powerful as the force itself and she felt like in that moment with their bodies joined, she could move the very alignment of the planets themselves.

It had always been of the hard and fast nature with her other lovers but with Obi-Wan, it felt like the force was speaking to her, telling her to slow down and what kind of fool argues with the Force itself?

She wrapped her legs around him and held him back with a little bit of pressure on his hips, stalling his rhythm.

A softer kiss much like their first seemed to hold his attention and allay his confusion, and when she gave a gentle shove on his chest, he didn’t fight it, falling over onto his side then rolling to his back. Cushioned against the pillow he lay there looking up, letting his breathing even out, she resumed the position he’d held over her, straddling his hips, fingers gliding up his chest, to his lips. Greater than any piece of art that any museum could ever hold, she wanted to enjoy him from this superior angle.

His lips parted maybe to speak, maybe not but the featherlight touch of her fingers over them stopped any potential words, his tongue darted out to wet his lips and to put a stop to the maddening tingling sensation she was creating as it was growing to be too much. She shushed him gently and kissed her way up his chest taking all the time she wanted.

The Jedi were not just mere followers of the Force; they were its devout servants. Their strict code governed every aspect of their lives, from their daily habits to their relationships and even their capacity for joy. However, there was one area that the Jedi Council had overlooked: intimacy. Despite the Council's decrees on denying oneself such physical connections, the Force still spoke through this sacred act of creation. She felt no remorse for giving in, as she knew the will of the Force was greater than any man-made rules.

She closed her eyes and reached for his temple creating a physical bond to strengthen what they were sharing, he at first seemed confused by her actions but with a quick adjustment of their positions, she sank down on him. And a surge of something washed over him, more than sex, more than pleasure, more than a bond or a mental connection. Wanting him to experience what she was and the way his eyes went wide saw her intention met. She began a soft rock of her hips and his eyes fluttered closed, letting this new experience take over him. Letting it permeate every inch of his body, all the way down to his bones, he lay content and at peace in tune with the cosmic thrumming of the universe until she broke contact.

He opened his eyes and looked up at her as though he’d seen the soul of force itself, like for the briefest moment he’d held all the answers and all the questions ever possible to behold. He smiled and rested his hands on her hips urging her to move a little more, and she did. Raising herself up slowly before easing back down, his chest rumbled with a groan. This slow sensual pace was perfect, hitting places deep within her, she swayed slightly each time she sank back down on him, and he began thrusting upwards, refusing to close his eyes, not wanting to miss a moment of what he was seeing.

The softness of the rising moonlight cast shadows through the room that cloaked Cressida in shadows, perhaps all too fitting of a metaphor for this night and the future. But he pushed past and chose to ignore that, instead focusing on what he was seeing, she was beautiful, and even if it was just for the night, those few hours that no one would ever know about; she was his.

The slow pace brought about an appreciation he had overlooked when it came to sex, until now it had been a physical release, a fun one but nothing more. Was this what they called love making? It didn’t make sense, how could that be if there was no love between them? Affection? Yes, certainly. Trust? Implicitly. But love?

No.

He decided not to dwell too deeply on such thoughts and to simply enjoy this, pulling her hips forward with a bit of a jerk and a sharper thrust up, the pace remaining unchanged but punctuated by a bit more force.

He pushed himself into a seated position, spreading his legs to give himself a bit more leverage and wrapping his arms around her, not deterring her rocking hips but to have another kiss and to keep her close. Close enough that he could feel her breath, see the quiver of her lips, pick apart all the shades of gray and ‘almost blue’ in her eyes, close enough to kiss her wherever he wanted. A wayward hand tangled in her hair pulling her mouth against his, swallowing the sound she made when he thrust his hips up sharply. He liked this position, they both held power, he could feel every little jolt of her body, keep her squeezed to him tightly, feel the beat of her heart. It was good but not without its flaws, he could already feel the strain on his back and the ache in his legs but he could hold out for just a little bit longer.

“Obi-Wan…”

She wasn’t aware she'd said his name, not until his movements stilled and he gripped her chin to bring her to look at him. His eyes filled with concern but it was fleeting until he realized his name had been uttered in rapture and it satisfied him to no end.

“Trust me?” She nodded, of course she did.

He held her tightly in his arms as he thrust up, feeling her tightening around him. He could feel himself throbbing with pleasure. A gentle kiss and the caress of their tongues led Obi-Wan to roll them again so they were lying on their sides, with him behind her. Planting kisses on the back of her neck, he brought her leg up over his hip. "Just like this," he guided before slowly sliding back into her warmth, eliciting a groan from both of them. His arms wrapped around her hips, keeping her close as he continued to thrust at this new angle that seemed to bring them both immense pleasure.

“Stars!” She exclaimed.

“I’ll show you the stars, I promise.” His breathy response as he increased his pace, thrusting faster.

“You already have.” She replied, slightly out of breath.

“Close your eyes and see even more.”

Without questioning him or his intentions, she closed her eyes and let Obi-Wan lead them to a perfect climax. Behind her closed eyelids, there were tiny twinkling lights dancing, soft and gentle. When his hand found its way between her legs, those little orbs exploded like bright shooting stars. He grunted as she tightened around him, causing his steady rhythm to falter slightly.

“See them?” He gritted through clenched teeth.

“Show me more!” She demanded.

He nodded against the back of her neck and began thrusting harder and faster, putting all his weight behind each movement and stealing small gasps of air with each one. His hand never stopped its steady stroking, turning those soft orbs of light into blazing supernovas that lit up the darkness they had both been consumed by, driving it away.

His breathing became erratic, and the crushing weight that had been on his shoulders for days seemed to dissipate. He desperately needed one last thing: a final burst of stimulus.

His left hand remained between her legs, determined not to move until she cried out in ecstasy. As his right hand found her temple and he gently bit down on her earlobe, their years of friendship and intense bond bridged the gap between them. With each rhythmic thrust, they faltered again, until the touch of his hand pushed them over the edge and they were enveloped in a cosmic wave of pure bliss. She cried his name, begged him for more, pleaded for him to take her harder, moving in perfect harmony with him as his body spasmed and he too reached the pinnacle of pleasure, calling out her name in guttural cries. His hold on her temple was too much to maintain, and he lost all sense of rhythm.

In one last feat of agility, he shifted their positions while still inside her, looming over her as he drove into her with all his remaining strength. Thrusting wildly, each movement accompanied by her cries echoing through the room. Then, she pulled him into a passionate kiss, their lips and tongues meeting in a messy tangle of desire and need. Finally, as the electric shocks running through his body began to subside, they both collapsed in complete exhaustion.

Her chest heaved, eyes finally opening, the storms calmed into a soft overcast, Obi-Wan’s eyes were devoid of any turmoil, swimming with serenity.

“You’re shaking,” She whispered, he smiled at the observation, as if he could bring himself to stop trembling after that.

“I’ll be fine. Are you alright?” She kissed him deeply, drawing a contented murmur from Obi-wan, he waited for her answer but as the seconds ticked by her lips showed little sign of stopping, moving down his neck. “Cress…”

“I'm fine, Obi-Wan,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice strained with determination.

She met his gaze, her legs wrapping tightly around his as their bodies rolled over in a tangled mess of limbs. Obi-Wan's muscles screamed for relief but he couldn't resist her, his body too weak and exhausted in the aftermath of his climax. He looked at her with burning curiosity, knowing that whatever was to come would push him to his limits.

"Tell me if it's too much," she whispered breathlessly, her fingers digging into his skin.

"If what's too much?" he gasped, already feeling the strain and pain building within him. But he welcomed it, craving the intensity and challenge.

His words were cut off as she slid him out of her heat and moved down his chest, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake. Realization dawned on him when she reached his hips and before he could utter another word, her lips were once again wrapped around his cock. A deep groan rumbled from his chest, a combination of the visual pleasure, the knowledge that she was tasting their combined release, and the tingling sensitivity that clawed at him, rendering him truly speechless.

As she devoured him with her mouth, his eyes rolled back into his head and he couldn't help but moan in ecstasy. The sensation of her velvet lips and insatiable hunger reignited his desire, causing his body to respond once again. His quickly grew hard and thick again, aching for more of her touch.

"We have all night," Cress purred in between licks, her hand expertly stroking his length just as he had shown her earlier. "And I can sleep on the ship."

Her words only fueled his fire, knowing that they could continue this pleasurable torment until the sun rose.

The night blurred into a haze of sex, pleasure, and indulgence that few Jedi spoke of or experienced. Wave after wave of carnal release washed over them, pushing them to the brink of pleasure and beyond. As they embraced each other in the throes of passion, the night disappeared into oblivion.

~~~

Morning's rays crept across the bed, a golden snare that caught Obi-Wan's tired lids and pried them open against their will. A groan escaped his lips as he shifted beneath the sheets, the world outside pressing into the fog of his groggy mind. Muscles that had known countless battles now throbbed with an unfamiliar pain—an intimate ache—each movement igniting a cascade of hyperawareness that rippled across his skin.

For a moment, he lingered in the half-light of dawn, floating on the edge of consciousness. He grappled with the tendrils of sleep, trying to recall the events that led to such soreness, such profound fatigue. But memory was elusive, slipping through his mental grasp like sand through fingers.

His breath hitched as clarity struck, ice water in the veins, and Obi-Wan bolted upright. The room spun briefly before settling into its mundane familiarity: the stoic walls, the simple furnishings—a refuge from a galaxy in turmoil. Yet something was amiss, a disturbance that sent his heart skittering.

He scanned the space, eyes landing with a dull ache on the untouched expanse beside him. The sheets there were cool, meticulously straightened, void of the warmth of another's presence. A pang of loss clutched at Obi-Wan, an echo of the coldness of that vacant place.

His gaze drifted, taking in the tidiness of the room—the orderliness that spoke of solitude. His boots, once haphazardly discarded in the throes of passion, now stood sentinel by the wall. His robes, their folds speaking of careful hands, rested on the chair alongside his lightsaber, a silent guardian within arm's reach.

Silence hung heavy where laughter and whispered confidences should have filled the air. The table, now barren, gave no sign of the shared meal it had hosted—no crumbs, no lingering scent of spice or sweetness. It was as though the night prior had been carefully erased, leaving behind only the tangible tokens of his own existence.

Obi-Wan's throat tightened, the emptiness in the room mirroring the hollow sensation within his chest. Where warmth had been, there was now only the stark reminder of isolation—a contrast as sharp as the blade he wielded. His hands clenched into fists, the ghost of another's touch still haunting his skin, as he faced the day alone.

She was gone.

He lay there for a moment, the weight of her absence settling over him like a shroud. The room seemed to echo with the remnants of their passion, a tangible thing that he could almost reach out and touch. It hadn't been romantic – no, such things were not for Jedi – but it had been real.

Obi-Wan rose and dressed silently, his movements mechanical. His fingers brushed over the spot where her lightsaber had rested, and he wondered if the yellow blade felt as cold and alone as he did now.

Despite everything, he couldn't regret what had transpired. Last night, they had shed their roles and simply existed as two beings seeking solace in one another. There was beauty in that, he thought, and a connection that went beyond the physical.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Time to reforge his resolve, to take up the mantle of mentor to Anakin.

But first, he allowed himself one final indulgence – a lingering touch on the pillow where her head had lain, a silent promise to remember the feel of her lips, the sound of her laughter mingling with his own.

Then, just as the first rays of dawn splashed gold across the floor, Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out into the day. Alone, yet forever altered. He looked out to the rising sun that shed its light over Coruscant and murmured to the stillness knowing she would never hear it.

"May the Force be with you, Cressida."

~~~

Phew! Well, hope that gives you guys a little of what you were looking for and some more insight into Obi-Wan and Cressida's past! If you like this then please feel free to reblog, like, comment, and let me know your thoughts! Alright! Now we can get back to getting these two crazy kids back together! @heyhawtdawgs. @split-spectrum(because you're a fan of the man! I thought you'd like this too!) @pickleprickle @burnthecheshirewitch

You guys are the best cheer readers I could ask for! See you in the next chapter!

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