#sorry for all the words no one's really asked about padmé's perspective in this and i jumped at the opportunity to talk about it lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

echos-newlegs · 3 years

Note

Hi love! Can we get 28 with Hunter? ❤️

Dancing Around

Yes, wait I actually have a cute idea for this one ohmyfforce- but you didn’t give me a gender so I did femish!reader. Hope that’s okay— I am so sorry if this is trash. I dunno how to write Hunter, apparently 🧑🏼‍🦯

Hunter x Reader: “Kriff you’re hot..”

Warnings: Language, probably. I cuss a lot sorry guys 😔

You and the bad batch were sent to a foreign planet to help watch over senator Amidala. She had another attempted assassination against her, and the 501st weren’t available. So she specifically asked for you and the boys. You and Padmé knew each other, and she trusted you. Plus she knew you did a hell of a good job keeping the boys in line. No, you weren’t their Jedi, you were their, well. Everything. You were a mechanic, pilot, and a trained medic. Plus, according to all of them, even Crosshair. You were a hell of a cook. You and Clone Force 99 were off to a ball. Whether they liked it or not.

“A ball.. Like a dance?” Crosshair asked you as you stood next to Hunter and explained the plan of attack to them all. “Yeah, did I stutter?” You spat and Wrecker laughed at that. He always enjoyed how you wouldn’t take crap from his vod. “No, what, you expect us to be let into a Kriffing dance?” Crosshair fired back and you sighed. Pinching the bridge of your nose. Crossing your other arm under your chest. “Yes, because we were ordered to attend. I just need one of you to dress up and pretend to be my date, and it’s either you, Wrecker, or Hunter.” You added. “What about Tech?” “He has his own job, were you not listening to me at all? You have ears for a reason. I didn’t realize you needed hearing aids, too.” You hissed. “Tech will be keeping tabs and hacking into the cameras. So which-“ You weren’t even able to finish your sentence and Hunter was speaking up. “I can.”

Crosshair looked over to his brother with a shocked look, but then a smirk. The both having a small stare off. Cross smirking like he knew something you all didn’t and Hunter glaring daggers. Unspoken words that you weren’t about to intrude on. “Awesome, now we just need to meet up with Padmé and then we can get our outfits.” You added, and Crosshair scoffed walking off. “Hey, you try wearing a dress I’d MUCH rather wear a suit!” You snapped. Shaking your head and turning to walk off yourself. “Fucking prick.” You muttered, and headed back off to the project you were previously working on.

Hunter stood in place for a second. Wrecker and Tech smiling over to their brother. Hunter shooting the two of them a look. “What?” Tech grinned and shook his head. “Nothing,” Wrecker wasn’t as secretive about what he was thinking, though. “You just wanna dance with y/n.” Hunter looked to the larger male with shock. Blush creeping up the back of his neck. “What? No I don’t this is for a mission and the two of you weren’t volunteering. I was just tired of y/n and Crosshairs bickering.” He informed them, and Wrecker chuckled and walked off. Tech snickering and saying a quick, ‘uh-huh, sure,’ before he was walking off himself. Leaving Hunter alone in his thoughts. So what if he just wanted an excuse to dance with you, or even just fake being your date for one night. Was that too much to ask for?

It didn’t take you all long to get to your destination. Last mission you were only one jump away. Padmé was thrilled to see you, as you were her. The two of you sharing a hug and a small catching up. Before the boys seemed to get too antsy, and caught her attention. “These must be Clone Force 99?” She spoke and you nodded, looking over to your boys with a grin. “Yeah, don’t mind them, they’re shy.” You tittered, smirking over to Cross who shot you a displeased look and an eye roll. “There’s Wrecker, Tech, Hunter, and Crosshair.” You spoke, holding back the urge to make a comment on all of them. Padmé smiling sweetly and waving her hand when they saluted her. “At ease, no need for that here. Now let’s get going. You all need to look like you came to a dance, not like you just got out of the war.” She spoke, you and the gang following her inside.

The boys all headed off with a man to get their suits fitted, you heading off with Padmé to get your outfit. “Do I have to wear a dress?” You asked her with almost a whine. “I can’t fight in a dress, you better not make me wear heels, stars I’d rather get shot!” You exclaimed and she laughed at that. “You don’t have to wear heels, but you have to wear a dress. I’m sure your date would love to see you in one, anyways.” Curse your stupid girls night you had with her a few months back when you were passing through Naboo without the boys. You told her all about your stupid feelings for Hunter, and she obviously didn’t forget. “What? No! I don’t like him anymore, he doesn’t like me anyways.” You lied. You did still like him, and she knew it. “Uh-huh, and I’m in love with a Sith Lord, are we sharing more lies?” She teased and you ducked your head down. “Come on, I’ll make the dress simple.”

Oh, the dress was nothing simple. It may have been in Padmés point of view, but not yours. It was a a flowing red and black dress that matched with her own. It wasn’t sparkly or anything, thankfully, but it was just too much in your perspective. Plus she had her servants put your hair up ina fancy bun that you didn’t even know was considered a bun. Then your nails were painted, since you refused the acrylics, and last but not least. The make up. “If I get bad acne after tonight, I’ll never forgive you.” You spoke with a frown and she laughed. She laughed at you. “Y/n, if you get acne from what little makeup you have on your skin is too sensitive.” You huffed at that, and followed her to sit and wait, until you were supposed to head out for the dance.

Tech took off shortly after he got his suit. He headed to hack into the cameras to keep an eye on things inside and out. Along with being able to watch the vents. Which were the main worries. Something could easily come in and out without them knowing about it.

Crosshair and Wrecker were the next to leave. Cross was able to head above the dance floor and scope out the place on the floor above. He wasn’t allowed his rifle, which pissed him off a bit, but he did have a blaster under his suit jacket like the rest of the boys did. Wrecker was on the main floor, where Hunter was following shortly after. Waiting for you to join him so the two of you could pose as a couple talking with Padmé.

You were the last to leave and enter the ball room. Padmé had left and told you to take your time. You were overthinking all of this. Hands trembling and face flushed red. This was way out of your comfort zone, and not only that, but Hunter would see you. Eyes darting around and then you inhaled. This isn’t for you, this is for your friend. You are here to protect Padmé. Feeling for the blaster hooked to your thigh with a holster. Then you were opening the door and heading for the dance floor.

You were scanning the crowd, looking for any signs of Padme or Hunter. Pushing through the crowd best you could. Lips pressed together, firmly, as you ventured the crowds. Letting out nervous chuckles and ‘excuse me’s. Bumping into someone for what felt like the hundredth time. You looked up with a nervous smile. Opening your mouth to say a quick apology. Until they turned and you saw it was Hunter. He looked so different, so.. Handsome. He wasn’t wearing his bandana, he was shaved, clean. Plus his suit was stunning. Not only that, but it complimented your outfit perfectly.. Padmé, working her wonders.

“Kriff..” He basically breathed out, and your smile faded a bit. Eyes darting to the side nervously. “You’re hot.” He finished, and your eyes looked back to his. Gulping. Did he really just? “Or I mean, um, you look nice,” He awkwardly stammered. He was shaking, and you couldn’t tell if he was getting overstimulated and anxious, or if it was because of you? It had to be overstimulation. “Hey, Padmé should be away from the crowd, let’s get you out of here.” You told him. Motioning for him to follow. He nodded and accompanied you. Eyes never leaving you, not even for a second.

The two of you found Padmé talking with some other political people. You weren’t sure who though. You could honestly care less. “Hey,” you chimed when she smiled over to you. Padmé excusing herself and coming over to stand in front of the two of you. “Well, if it isn’t the dashing couple,” She teased. The both of you looking away sheepishly, and you glared at her. Just a bit. “We aren’t,” “Hunter, I was only teasing, I know you aren’t a pair. A shame, you two look absolutely amazing.” Padmé added with a sigh and you glared at her full force this time. “Ooh, I love this song, Come on guys, look less awkward.” She added, shoving the two of you back into the crowd. You were starting to wonder if there were even assassins that this point.

You got lost, again. Hunter was looking for you in a bit of a panic. “Y/n,” He blurted, trying to make himself taller to look over the crowd and find you. A hand grabbing yours and pulling you further. “Hey!” You snapped, and turned to see another guy. “Aren’t you here to dance?” He asked with a grin. Grabbing your hands and swinging you around. You did your best to not punch and kick him to the ground, but just went along with it at first. Hunter finally spotting you. Noticing your uncomfortable look as the guy, obviously wasted. Danced with you. It wasn’t so much that he was jealous, he just didn’t want you in a situation you weren’t comfortable in. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“Hey, that’s my date,” He gruffed and the guy looked over to hunter with a brow raised. “How’d this pretty girl end with you?” He blurted in a slur and Hunter rolled his eyes. “She’s mine,” He snapped and the guy sighed, letting you go. “Alright, if he doesn’t dance with you. You know where to find me.” He spoke, before kissing your hand and drifting into the crowd.

You were at a loss for words, the two of you staring off in the direction the man went off in. “What an ass,” The two of you blurted. Looking to one another with a blank stare. Then bursted into a small fit of laughter. “A dance then? Padmé asked us to look less awkward.” Hunter spoke. “Plus, I don’t want that creep stealing my date again.” Holding a hand out with a smile. Stars, this had to be a dream. You taking his hand hesitantly. Allowing him to pull you towards him. One hand on your hip, the other in your hand. Your own free hand resting on his shoulder. “Look, about earlier, when I said.” You smiled and shook your head. Raising your hand. Gently touching his lips. “Shh, Hunter you’re fine, I know, you probably didn’t mean it.” You spoke with a smile. Stars you couldn’t even take the hint when it was right in front of you.

Hunter furrowed his brows and shook his head. “What? No.. I meant it, mesh’la, what do you take me as?” He asked, smiling and looking down at you. Now was your turn to get nervous and for your face to go red. “I uhm- I take you as.. Someone who wouldn’t flirt with their pilot. I thought one of the others dared you to..” You started and he shook his head. Stopping the sway of the dance you were both in. Hand releasing yours so he could raise it to cup your cheek. His other hand still on your hip. “Y/n, you look beautiful, I mean it, too. No one dared me to do anything, I promise.”

This felt like a dream come true. hunter was leaning down. Your lips were inches apart and you were squirming. “Prove it then,” You murmured, and he leaned in. Though before he could capture your lips with his you heard a shout in your ear pieces. It was Tech. “Kriff..” You both murmured. Hunter pulling away so the two of you could listen to the others words. “If we make it out of this alive, I’ll show you tonight.” Hunter spoke with a small smirk. Squeezing your hip and you smirked back. “That better be a promise, Sargent.” He snickered and pulled back from you, his hands still shaking a bit, and this time you knew it was from the crowd. “I would never lie to you, ever.” And off he went. You taking off in your own separate way. Now you had a reason to complete this mission, and a thank you that needed delivered right to Padmé.

#bad batch x reader #star wars #star wars writing #the bad batch #the clone wars #writing #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #bad batch

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helbertinelli · 3 years

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After Padmé’s family learns she’s married to Anakin I think Anakin would have a great relationship with his new nieces. Not to take anything away from his own children but I think Pooja would love spending some time with her Jedi uncle once and awhile.

From Jedi vs. Sith: The Essential Guide to the Force:

We now know that Anakin Skywalker and Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo married in secret in the year 22 B.B.Y., just after the Battle of Geonosis. It was only after the astromech droid R2-D2 divulged recordings of Anakin and Amidala that contemporary scholars became aware of their relationship. It is almost a certainty that Anakin told no one of his marriage, and subsequent interviews with Amidala’s relatives have determined that family members were also oblivious.

After Leia Organa Solo discovered the identity of her mother, she realized that Pooja Naberrie—a former representative of Naboo and a friend she had known since her service in the Imperial Senate—was not only Padmé Amidala’s niece but also her own first cousin. In 35 A.B.Y., Pooja Naberrie recalled meeting Anakin when she was a child, just prior to the Battle of Geonosis:

I was just a little girl, only four years old, when I first saw Anakin. Oh, my. I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, and so tall! My memory of him is entirely from a child’s perspective, and I still envision him as a giant.

I was at my grandparents’ home with my sister Ryoo, who’s two years older, when he came to Naboo. He came walking up the street with Aunt Padmé, and they brought an R2 unit. Ryoo and I always got so excited when Padmé would visit, because we sometimes didn’t see her for months at a time. And if you’re four and six years old, months can seem like years! Anyway, if I remember right, I think Ryoo and I must have thought that Anakin had brought the droid to us as a because we just started dancing around it, right there in the street outside the house. We were so silly.

I’d overheard someone say that Anakin was Padmé’s bodyguard, and I don’t think I thought there was anything strange about that. Padmé was often accompanied by a security officer named … Oh, my, what was his name? Ty? No, Captain Typho! Anyway, I just imagined that Anakin was Padmé’s boyfriend. I thought they both looked so beautiful together.

Well, Ryoo and I were just heartbroken when we learned that they weren’t staying at the house. They left just a few hours later for the Lake Country. I recall our mother saying something about Padmé needing to get away from the city and rest for a few days. We cried because we wanted the droid to stay and play with us!

A few days later, I remember there was some concern in our house about no one knowing where Padmé was. She and Anakin had been staying at a retreat in the Lake Country, but then they’d left without telling anyone where they were going. My mother was a bit frantic until a few days later, when she received word that Padmé was alive and well.

It wasn’t long after that that Padmé returned to Naboo with Anakin, and that was the second time I met him. I remember that encounter more clearly because of the way I reacted when I saw that his right hand had been replaced with a prosthetic. The fingertips were made of a gold-colored metal, and I thought it looked cold. And there were exposed wires. I guess it may have been just a temporary prosthetic. When my family and I greeted him and Padmé, I couldn’t stop myself from staring at his new hand. And then I looked up into his eyes.

He looked … well, I thought he looked angry, and I just started crying. Maybe he was angry, but in hindsight, I’m certain it had nothing to with me. My mother apologized for my behavior, but Anakin said there was no reason for anyone to be sorry. He knelt down beside me, held out his left hand to me, and asked me if I’d put my hand in his. I did. He smiled and gave my fingers a gentle squeeze, then said, “That’s for good luck, so we’ll all hang on to our fingers from now on.” I’m sure he just wanted to make me feel better, and he did. But I still felt so awful for him for losing a hand.

And then, three years later, Padmé was dead. It was awful. She was so young. And “no one in our family seemed to know how she had died, or at least no one told us. My sister and I did learn that there had been assassination attempts, and that was why Anakin had been acting as her bodyguard.

At her funeral, I didn’t just weep for her. I thought Anakin was dead, too. We’d heard that the Jedi had attempted to overthrow the Republic, and that most of the Jedi had been killed. To Ryoo and me, Anakin was our hero. We couldn’t imagine him doing anything wrong. I had all sorts of fantasies about how he might have been killed or injured while trying to save Padmé, or that he’d gone into hiding because he refused to participate in the so-called Jedi takeover. Silly dreams.

But all that was … How long ago? About fifty-five years, I think. And now, my dear friend Leia Organa Solo tells me about her discovery that Padmé was her mother, and of what became of Anakin. My head is still reeling. I’ve known Leia ever since we both served in the Imperial Senate, and to think that neither of us ever had the slightest inkling that we were first cousins.

If Leia hadn’t told me herself, I don’t think I ever would have believed that Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader. It’s just so … so entirely inconceivable that that lovely young man could have become Vader. And yet that’s exactly what happened, isn’t it? To think I held his hand. His good hand. Oh, my.

I love this passage. It's really sweet. I also think that Anakin would get along really well with his nieces. Him and Padme would be the very definition of cool aunt and cool uncle.

I can see Pooja and Ryoo bragging at school about their uncle who is a Jedi and everyone thinking they're making it up but then Anakin comes to pick them up and everyone recognizes him and not only is their uncle a former member of the Jedi Order, but he is the Chosen One and the hero of Naboo.

#anakin skywalker #anidala #pooja naberrie #ryoo naberrie #sw books #anonymous #ask

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obwjam · 3 years

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#17 with a shrunken Obi-Wan or Anakin?

“Is this size permanent?”

i’m doing anakin and using my oc for this because obi-wan deserves a win

from this post

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

Nobody knew what had just happened.

The Separatists were always trying out new weapons, but when Anakin held up his lightsaber to deflect the weird blue laser that was headed straight for him, he didn’t expect his body to start aching and his vision to go blurry. He was knocked off his feet, and a sharp ringing in his ears made him squeeze his eyes tight until it stopped. He could hear people shouting... but they all sounded miles away.

Anakin took a sharp breath and sat up straight, blinking rapidly as the scenery started to take shape around him again. Everything was a lot darker than it was before, and a lot more devoid of color, too. He rapidly moved his head around. This was certainly not the flat field he was fighting in before.

“Obi-Wan?” Ankain called out. Nothing. “Rex?” He tried again, louder this time. Still nothing. “Ahsoka?!” It felt like he was screaming into a pillow. He thought he heard someone yell his name back to him, but everything still sounded muffled. Was he in some kind of alternate dimension? Could the Separatists do something like that? Was he dead?

“Anakin?”

A clear voice shook him from his trance.

“Jayla? Is that you?” he yelled back. Anakin couldn’t discern any of his surroundings, much less where the voice was coming from. The more he strained his eyes, the heavier the weight of the world felt around him.

“Anakin? Anakin! Are you okay? What happ... holy kriff.”

It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing. Jayla, the best friend he had known forever, the one who was small enough to curl up in the palm of his hand, was standing right in front of him.

Right at eye level.

“Anakin... what...” she started, almost too afraid to move closer. If Anakin thought he was hallucinating, Jayla certainly had him beat. But the blue weapon... its strange energy... it all made sense now.

“Jayla? Why are you... how...”

“Anakin... it’s not me.” Jayla could barely get her words out. “That weapon... it… you’re...”

“Are you saying that weapon shrunk me?!”

Jayla flinched. Even at such a diminished height, seeing Anakin get mad was concerning. He scrambled to his feet, and suddenly everything became clear. It was dark because he was surrounded by tall grass. He felt anxious because the sheer size of everything around him was weighing down on him heavily. Those voices sounded far away because they were.

Jayla cringed at the panic that was clearly engulfing Anakin. She could marvel at this later. Right now, she needed to help.

“Ani... you need to calm down,” she said softly, slowly making her way over to him. Okay, maybe she could marvel a little bit. He looked so different up close. So much... older, and worn down.

“You want me to be calm when I’m stuck like this?” he cried, throwing his hands up. Up. Up was so far away now. Treetops that were once a leap away were now impossibly out of reach. “What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to fight? Is this size permanent?”

“First of all, I resent all of that. Second, we need to find Obi-Wan and get back Coruscant so we can--”

“Obi-Wan?! No. No way.”

“Are you kidding? Please don’t tell me you’re afraid.”

“More like embarrassed,” Anakin sighed, rubbing his eyes. “He can’t--I don’t want him to see me like this!”

“Oh, you’d rather make this awful muddy field on this backwater planet your permanent home, then?”

Anakin sighed. She was right, but that didn’t make the pill any easier to swallow.

“The sooner we get off this planet, the quicker we can… fix you,” Jayla said. “It’s freaking me out too, you know.”

“How do you live like this?” Anakin asked. “I mean, I’ve always wondered, but actually experiencing it...”

“Please,” Jayla rolled her eyes. “It’s been like two minutes.”

“So? That’s way more experience than I ever thought I’d get.” Anakin took a moment to look himself over. He was still holding his lightsaber and his clothes had shrunken with him, so that was a positive. He felt normal, albeit a little dazed. He could still walk, talk, breathe. Everything was fine. He was just... tiny.

“How are we supposed to get to Obi-Wan from down here?” Anakin asked, completely serious. Jayla stared at him as she held her arm up and pointed to her wrist comm.

“Oh. Right,” Anakin blushed.

“I think that weapon did some brain damage,” Jayla muttered as she turned the comm on. “Obi-Wan? Are you there?”

“Jayla? Where are you? Have you found Anakin?”

“Yeah, I found him…” she tapped a few buttons to transmit her location. “Just watch your step.”

“As always,” came Obi-Wan’s garbled voice before the comm beeped off.

“How long till he gets here?” Anakin asked, a tinge of panic to his voice as his eyes scanned the horizon.

“I don’t know,” Jayla shrugged. It was alarming how strongly she could sense his fear. “Look… it’s gonna feel really overwhelming, having another person loom over you. But don’t worry, you just have to--”

“--I feel fine,” Anakin grumbled.

“I know for a fact that you don’t.”

Anakin looked at Jayla, and he finally took in what was in front of him. From his normal perspective, she usually looked spry, alert and energetic. He had never noticed the scratches on her face and the bruises on her legs before. Her blue eyes were the brightest thing in this dingy atmosphere. She was way more muscular than he would have ever guessed.

“I’m taller than you.”

Jayla blinked. “What?”

“Even when we’re on the same scale, I still got a few inches on you.”

“You are actually unbelievable,” Jayla shook her head, biting back a smile. She stared at Anakin for a few moments, neither of them needing words to say what they were thinking. Her stomach dropped, though, when a long shadow passed over them and Anakin’s eyes grew wide.

“Jayla?” Obi-Wan took a knee high above them. Anakin gulped. “Where’s Anakin?”

Jayla didn’t say anything; she just glanced to her side, where Anakin was frozen in place. It took Obi-Wan a moment, but when he saw, he gasped.

“Anakin! What in the -- what happened?”

“It was that Separatist weapon,” Jayla answered, knowing Anakin wasn’t going to speak. “The bright blue one.”

“That’s impossible… how could they have developed technology like this?”

“I have no idea. But we need to get out of here before they get anyone else.”

“I agree.” Obi-Wan couldn’t take his gaze off Anakin. Anakin was doing everything he could to avoid eye contact. Wordlessly, he put his palm down next to the two.

“Let’s go,” Jayla said quietly, too soft for Obi-Wan to hear. Anakin glanced at her before warily walking to Obi-Wan’s open hand. He cringed when he stepped on.

“This is humiliating,” he mumbled.

“Grab the thumb. You’ll balance better.”

Anakin scoffed. “I am not touching his thumb.”

“Obi-Wan, Anakin refuses to touch your thumb,” Jayla said, holding back a laugh.

“Well, I hope you have good balance,” Obi-Wan said, trying his hardest not to smile at the sight of Anakin nearly falling over when he began to stand. “I must say, Anakin, you look adorable down there.”

Anakin glowered at him with the ferocity of a thousand suns, and this time, Jayla couldn’t hold back.

“Ani, you really need to relax,” she said between giggles. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re very adorable at all.”

“I hate both of you,” Anakin sneered. “So much.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

As they made their way back to base, Anakin finally got over himself and leaned over Obi-Wan’s thumb like a railing as the field he once ran through with ease whizzed by.

“What’cha thinking?” Jayla asked, scooting up next to him.

Anakin smirked. “I can’t fly my ship anymore.”

“Hey, I don’t even know how to fly!”

“Everyone’s gonna see me like this. Rex, Ahsoka, the council…”

“Trust me, the council isn’t nearly as imposing as you would think.”

“...I’m gonna have to tell Padmé.”

“Oh.” Jayla cleared her throat. “Yeah, that one might be awkward.”

Anakin said nothing. Jayla slid closer, rubbing shoulders with her friend. Obi-Wan glanced down, trying to make out what they were saying.

“Someone’ll fix this,” she reassured. “I don’t know who, but the Seps wouldn’t have done this without having a way to reverse it.”

“Oh, good. Let’s just find Dooku and politely ask him to make me normal again!” Anakin snapped.

Jayla looked away. There really was no getting through to him when he was upset about something. Only this time, it wasn’t so easy to ignore him. He was right here with her. It suddenly hit her why she felt so uncomfortable -- she had never been in a position to truly console anyone. Sure, she offered wisdom and support when it was needed, but she always got the feeling that her advice didn’t carry the same weight as it would if she were a normal height. Normal. She really wished Anakin wouldn’t use that word.

Anakin stole a glance at Jayla. Maybe being snide with her wasn’t the best idea when she was all he had down here.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled. “This is just… this is a lot to deal with.”

“I know,” Jayla sighed. “I shouldn’t tease you.”

“Eh, I deserve it,” Anakin said. “We all know I never let up on you.”

Jayla huffed a laugh. “Yeah.” There was a long pause before it was clear that neither side was going to continue the conversation. Slowly, Jayla wrapped her arm around Anakin’s shoulders and squeezed.

“It’ll be alright,” she whispered. Anakin put the lightsaber he didn’t even realize he was holding back on his belt before reciprocating her gesture. Jayla smirked. “Wow. So this is what it feels like.”

“What what feels like?”

“A hug.”

Anakin turned to her, surprised. “A hug?”

“Would it surprise you to know that I have never once been hugged?”

“Well, yeah, it would,” Anakin said, looking hurt. “Because you tell me everything.”

“I tell you the things you’ll understand,” she corrected. “Being tiny in a giant world means you have to be okay with missing out on basic human experiences. Things like, hugs and holding hands and sitting in a chair around a big table eating dinner together. Just… talking to someone, without constantly being on edge and feeling like you’re being watched.” Jayla fell silent for a moment. “I know it’s wrong to say, but, I’m glad you’re here with me. Like this. It feels… a little less lonely.”

“Even if we’re being carried around by Obi-Wan on a gross Outer Rim planet?”

Jayla snickered. “Especially that. You don’t think this is familiar territory? I’ve fallen asleep more times in this hand than you have next to Padmé--”

“Alright, I get it,” Anakin cut her off, his face a light shade of red. “I wish I had picked up on it. A-about you feeling so… isolated.”

Jayla shrugged. “I do a good job of hiding it. There’s nothing you would have been able to do, anyway. Hugging a finger is nothing like… well…” She let out a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

“No, no. I’m glad you did.” Anakin smiled. “It feels like I’m talking to a completely different person. You’ve been my best friend since I started training, and it’s like I’m just meeting you for the first time.”

“Well, I hope you really like me, ‘cause this is what you’ll be stuck with for a while.”

“I’m gonna have to find a new nickname for you that’s not Tiny.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t want you using all your brainpower on me! You need to save it for other things. Like Force jumping from the floor to the table instead of from the ground to the top of a kriffing mountain.”

Anakin opened his mouth to retaliate, but didn’t get the chance before Obi-Wan stopped walking. “This is our stop, kids,” he teased. He immediately made eye contact with a frantic Rex and waved him over.

“General Kenobi! Did you find--” Rex stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who was in Obi-Wan’s palm. “Um. Sir...”

“Don’t look so surprised, Rex!” Anakin called out, trying to ignore just how big he was. “I’m trying out a new look.”

“Sir…” Rex said again, unable to tear his eyes away. He had finally gotten used to Jayla being around. He couldn’t do it all over again.

“Staring is rude, Captain,” Obi-Wan remarked, sensing Anakin’s discomfort. Rex pursed his lips and quickly looked away. “We’re going to take my starship back up to the Resolute. I suggest you round up the 501st and tell General Yularen that we’re heading back to Coruscant.”

“Yes, sir, right away, sir,” Rex stammered. He spun around on his heels and jogged away to meet his men.

“Well,” Anakin said. “That was awkward.”

Jayla huffed. “Welcome to the tiny experience.”

“Master!” another voice called out. This one belonged to Ahsoka, who had only caught a fraction of what Rex was trying to explain before deciding she had to see it for herself. She was panicking that nobody had been able to find Anakin after he jumped in front of that weapon. Rex had said something about him being with Obi-Wan… but she didn’t see him. Yet.

“Anakin!” she said in shock when she finally saw. She bent down, wide-eyed, and Anakin appreciated the fact that she wasn’t just gawking mindlessly. “What happened?”

“Some sort of new Separatist weapon,” Anakin answered before mumbling, “I’m really gonna hate having to say that a thousand times.”

Jayla glanced up behind her back as Ahsoka fired off questions. The usually snippy Obi-Wan had been surprisingly devoid of quips about Anakin being smaller than a Zilkin. Something was not right here.

“Ahsoka,” Jayla cut in, noticing how irritated Anakin was beginning to look. “Why don’t we go and get Anakin’s starship back up to the destroyer? Since, you know, he can’t do it himself.”

“Funny, you just said “we” there, and last time I checked, you can’t fly either,” Anakin joked.

Jayla smirked. “Oh but see, the difference there is that I don’t care.” She flashed one last mocking smile at Anakin before jumping off Obi-Wan’s hand and landing perfectly on Ahsoka’s shoulder. Anakin stared in disbelief. That leap looked impossibly far.

“Will you be okay, master?” Ahsoka asked, sensing Anakin’s anxiety. He nodded without a word. Ahsoka knew it was time to leave.

Obi-Wan waited until the ship was a speck in the sky before turning his attention fully on the tiny Jedi knight in his hand.

“You’re very anxious, Anakin.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Gee, and why would that be, master?”

“I just mean…” Obi-Wan sighed. It was rare for him to be at a loss for words. “I’m worried. This is completely uncharted territory. I don’t have an inkling as to how the Separatists would have made a weapon like this. There might not be a solution.”

“Yes, there is,” Anakin shot back. “We are going to find a way to fix this. I don’t care what it takes. I’m not staying like this forever.”

“Anakin--”

“What, Obi-Wan? What do you want me to say? That Jayla can live like this, so why can’t I? She’s lived like this forever. I… I haven’t. And I can’t. They need me.”

“They?”

“Rex! Ahsoka! The 501st! Jayla! You! I can’t be who I need to be if this is what I am.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip. Fear and distress were clouding Anakin’s rationality.

“Anakin, listen to me. We are going to do everything in our power to get you back to normal. That I can assure you. But you need to stay calm. It could take days, it could take months. We simply don’t know. But if you let this consume you, you’ll be going down a dark path.”

Anakin crossed his arms, acting like he wasn’t listening to a word of what Obi-Wan was saying. He was right. Anakin was afraid. And pretending not to be afraid was even worse than feeling afraid in the first place. Right now, he couldn’t be more grateful to have someone like Jayla on his side.

“Let’s get back to the destroyer,” Obi-Wan said once he felt Anakin’s shaking subside. “We can get started in the medical bay.”

Anakin sighed and sat down, ready to embrace the weirdness of leaning on someone else’s fingers.

It was going to be a long trip back to Coruscant.

#this was so much fun to write #i have never done size swap before or anything of the like and now i think im obsessed #such interesting things to explore #also wow i dont normally end stories on such dour notes but #im in my feels today #star wars g/t #obwrites

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princesssarcastia · 3 years

Text

the republic shatters, but it does not Fall. and its not Ahsoka’s goddamn job to pick up the pieces, actually.

GUESS WHO SPENT ALL OF THIS WEEK HAVING LOTS OF STAR WARS FEELINGS. GUESS WHO JUST WROTE AN 8K+ WORD FIC ABOUT THOSE FEELINGS.

definitely haven’t been subsumed by thoughts of the Fall Of The Republic as a proxy for all my anxiety about the election, no siree.

anyway. In which Ahsoka takes Maul’s hand, convinces Anakin to sit his ass down, and then has to learn how to hand the fate of the galaxy back over to he people who fucked it up in the first place. And in which the author acknowledges Barris Was Right, Even If Her Methods Were Radical and Flawed, And Ultimately Detracted From Her Message.

will probably call this, “had we but world enough and time,” on ao3. edit: here it is on ao3, if you prefer.

—

Maul smirks and the feeling of it lingers in the wider office, grating.

But that doesn’t mean she’s wrong.

Her breath comes and goes in quick bursts, montrals shuddering lightly with exhaustion. The enormity of what they’ve done has started falling on her; the enormity of what she’s done, by the Force. But her hands are the kind of steady earned through a crucible of three years of constant battle.

Too much battle, Master Windu thinks, and Ahsoka narrows her eyes at him when she catches it and presses closer.

“You don’t lay a finger on him; none of you get to do that, not now.”

“Now that I’ve—” Maul starts to drawl, but Ahsoka cuts him off.

“Not helping, Maul,” she spits without taking her eyes off the threatthreathreat she can feel from Master Windu.

Ahsoka showed up out of nowhere with the enemy she was meant to capture as backup—or, she was his backup, they hadn’t quite straightened that out on the way. But it’s also that Anakin has—Anakin was—Anakin is—and Ahsoka was his apprentice for three years.

And whose fault is that? Ahsoka thinks desperately, and Windu catches it, and it’s getting harder and harder for them to keep their shields up, keep their minds from meeting in the Force; Master Fisto lies dead not ten feet from her, and she’s used to dead bodies, she is, but dead Jedi still feel anathema and the violence of it lingers in the Force here even though they’ve been dying in droves in the last stages of this pointless conflict all this pointless death she is a solider not a Jedi what was it all for?

“Come now, Lady Tano,” Maul says, an undercurrent of pleasure at the chaos he can sense from her—not that he’s any better, he likes chaos. It’s what he’s good at. But she’s not, and it dulls her keen edges.

She forces a slow, full breath in, and out, and her hands stay steady.

“This is not the Jedi way,” Master Windu says like it matters.

“No? Maybe not.” Ahsoka draws in another breath. “But I don’t think that means anything, anymore. There have been too many compromises in this war, Master Windu, for you to tell me here and now that Maul deserves to die for winning it.”

“Obi-Wan would agree with me.”

“Obi-wan isn’t here, master,” Ahsoka says like an accusation. “And can you honestly tell me you were going to do anything different? Why were you here in this office?”

“Arresting him, so he could be brought to justice,” Master Windu bites out, and Ahsoka knows she’s won, because it’s a lie.

That’s not what this was about.

This was about millions of dead clones and thousands of dead Jedi and hundreds of years of steady decay disguised as peace.

Another lie.

Master Windu sighs like the weight of the galaxy is pressing it out of him. And maybe it is; destiny fell hard on their shoulders today.

Now, they find out if they can bear it.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way, Lady Tano,” he capitulates, using Maul’s title for her to make a point. “For now.”

—

“How did you get away with being pregnant for so long?” Ahsoka asks hesitantly, as they wait together. “I mean, your gowns make a good effort, but…”

Padmé hums. “They weren’t meant to convince anyone I wasn’t pregnant; it’s,” she taps her armrest, “it’s a cultural thing. Padmé Naberrie is pregnant, but Senator Padmé Amidala isn’t. Our private lives are sacrosanct, on Naboo, and with Palpatine,” her voice breaks, and she clears her throat. “With Palpatine being the Chancellor for so long, Naboo culture was something most of the Senate understood.”

“Ah,” Ahsoka says, and it almost makes sense. “We never had a lot of privacy in the Order. Or in the GAR, but that was different,” she adds, shaking her head.

“How so?” Padmé asks, her eyes brightening the way Master Obi-Wan’s did, those rare moments in between battles when Anakin and Ahsoka could be lured into debating philosophy.

“I mean, we’re all Jedi, we all grow up together, learn together, live together. We’re Jedi,” she repeats, “and we—it’s—we blend together in the Force. There are things we just knew about one another, unless someone made an effort to hide, but then we knew that, too.” She makes a frustrated noise. “It’s not bad, though, it’s comforting. Usually we didn’t feel the need to hide anything from other Jedi, and it was comforting, to know that you could just be in the Temple, without any pretenses.

“Whereas the GAR,” Ahsoka twists her lips wryly, “the lack of privacy stems from the close quarters and the constant battle and movement. There’s no time for privacy when every second wasted means someone else dies. And a lot of the regulations meant there were things we had to report to our superiors. Everything, basically, because some senators who helped draw up regulations thought that our use of the Force meant our every thought and feeling was pertinent to the war effort.”

“I see,” Padmé says, and they sit with these things they’ve said, and all the things they haven’t.

Ahsoka can feel the question in the back of their throats, and she can’t tell if it’s coming from her or from Padmé, but Padmé is the one who gives it life. So kindly that it almost doesn’t feel like the dagger to her gut that it is.

“Is it still like that now?”

“I don’t know,” Ahsoka whispers, finally, because this isn’t something she can say loudly; not yet. “I don’t—not for me. It isn’t like that for me, anymore. But for everyone else?” She asks. “I can’t tell the difference between trauma and classified information and loss of faith in other Jedi, in the others.”

Or in herself.

—

When the find the chips—

Little gods and all the Force, too.

Anakin felt like he could have torn all of Coruscant asunder, and Ahsoka knew she wasn’t far behind him. A lot of the other Jedi weren’t far behind him; Aayla Secura and Plo Koon and Depa Billaba and the others who lived and died by thousands of brothers for three years.

But Rex isn’t surprised. That’s what finally breaks Ahsoka: the lack of surprise on Rex’s face and the grim way Cody asks if these chips really change anything.

She leaves the now-chaotic debriefing room and hurries blindly through the halls of the Senate, grasping at the Force for a safe place to land and fall to pieces.

She stumbles into a large set of offices, meant for a senator, maybe, but Ahsoka can’t quite grasp the lay of it with her montrals vibrating like they are; with her eyes so full of this last shattering betrayal, the final throw of earth in its burial.

“Master Jedi?” Someone calls sharply, but Ahsoka can’t answer them before she backs into a corner and sinks to the floor. Can’t correct them, say, I am no Jedi, because she doesn’t know truth from lie anymore.

“Master Jedi,” that same voice repeats more calmly, right in front of her and vaguely familiar. “Ahsoka, right?”

She desperately trills some affirmative, and it must be within their range of hearing because they say, “Okay,” and nothing else.

Slowly, in fits and starts, the physical creeps into her awareness. This is a senator’s office, and if she’s not mistaken, it’s the office of the man crouching in front of her. She recognizes him, vaguely, and might be able to name him with another minute of study.

“Do you know where you are?” He asks, radiating calm like a Jedi master without any of the awareness in the Force.

“Your offices,” Ahsoka bites out lowly, starting to feel a low burn of embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m—sorry. I’m sorry. I was just—”

“It’s fine, Master Jedi. There’s a lot of that going around,” he jokes lightly, except for how it isn’t a joke at all.

“The debriefing,” she says, the debriefing, because there’s only one, and if Ahsoka can recognize him then he’s definitely important enough to sit in on it. “You weren’t there,” she adds questioningly.

“Ah, yes,” he says mildly. “I’m afraid I’ll need to be briefed on the debriefing later by one of my colleagues; Senator Amidala, perhaps, her notes are usually impeccable. I was unavoidably detained by the Queen.”

“The queen,” Ahsoka repeats back to him, like Hondo’s stupid monkey-lizard.

“Queen Breha Organa,” he responds, and she’s grateful that still, all he radiates is calm, because her embarrassment now is strong enough to rival her desperate horror.

“Your wife,” she says like an idiot to Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan, one of the leaders of the delegation of 2000 and main architects of the Republic’s efforts to rebuild.

“Yes,” he says. “Do you drink tea?”

She takes a deep breath in, forcing her heartrate to slow. “I do,” she replies. You can’t spend any time in proximity with Master Obi-Wan without it.

“I would be honored if you would join me, then,” Senator Organa says, rising and extending a hand to her in one smooth motion that belies his heavy robes. “I think your perspective on these proceedings may be invaluable, if you’re willing to offer it.”

Ahsoka grasps it and pulls to her feet. “It’s the least I can do,” she says. “Seeing as I just had a panic attack in your office.”

“Wonderful,” he smiles at her, not denying it, and leads her away.

—

A galaxy cannot stumble up to the edge of oblivion and then step back gracefully, kindly, simply, easily, just because they notice it’s happened. An end is inevitable.

The Republic fell three years ago, thirteen years ago, seventeen years ago. Now the work is sorting shattered remains to see what is worth preserving, and what can be thrown out wholesale.

Saving isn’t on the agenda.

—

There are so few Jedi left, now, compared to what they were before. Perhaps half the Order has died, in three years of relentless violence, and those who remain feel brittle in the Force. The very young and the very old alone remain whole, and the disconnect is stifling.

Not all of those who remain stay. Entire lineages depart from the Temple, unable to contemplate trying to live as they had before.

Trying, and failing.

Tholme and T’ra Saa depart for parts unknown to the Order at large as soon as the last battle fades into armistice. Years of intelligence work and corralling those brave few Jedi who were willing to let the darkness swallow them whole have left them closer than the Code can abide. And Quinlan Vos follows soon after, to no one’s surprise.

Aayla…she stays. She stays, for now, but it’s a tenuous settling. As long as Bly is with her, she will endure.

But if she has to choose between the Order and Bly, or the Order and seeing her master again, the Order will lose.

—

Calling them Senate hearings would be a misnomer; the Senate doesn’t really…exist, anymore. With Palpatine gone, a crippling power vacuum sits at the heart of the Republic, leaving them, somehow, even more ineffective than they were before. No system trusts any other system well enough to vote someone else into the Chancellorship that, all of a sudden, seems too powerful for any one being.

But their bylaws are still legal.

If not for the Jedi’s efforts to negotiate armistices with the Confederacy, they would be completely unable to negotiate or sue for peace, left mired in a thousand little wars, shards of the larger conflict that shattered with Dooku and Grievous. The Jedi hold the peace of hundreds of worlds in their palms.

No one is particularly happy with this state of affairs. Not even the Jedi, though some of Bail’s colleagues doubt that to the point of insult.

This particular briefing is in one of the lesser chambers, with perhaps only two hundred key systems directly represented. A dozen Jedi and half that many clones have joined them to provide information and counsel on military matters, and all of their agitation is more palpable by the moment.

Master Windu, as Head of the Order, has spoken before the Senate many times; but today, he remains quiet and stone-faced, his hand pressed against his mouth as if to remind himself of his silence.

Master Kenobi, on the other hand, has exhaustedly pulled and pushed at conversational threads the entire time, lambasting falsehoods and correcting ignorance and on one very startling occasion baring his teeth at a senator who suggested—demanded—the Trade Federation be allowed a voice in these proceedings.

That motion died swiftly.

The famed negotiator is seemingly at the end of his rope when it comes to these proceedings, and Bail can’t blame him.

After the very first of these briefings, the one Bail missed, Master Skywalker was not allowed to attend, and the look on Ahsoka’s face when they learned of this made him think it’s for the best.

No Kaminoan representative has appeared after Halle Burtoni was swiftly recalled just before Master Shaak-Ti revealed what had been done to the clone troops, which Bail thinks is also for the best; if only because their safety could not be guaranteed.

—

Mace doesn’t understand it until he meets Padawan Vrosch.

Barely Padawan Vrosch; if not for the war, this little nautolan would still comfortably be an initiate, but needs must.

Padawan Vrosch is a padawan of the Temple. Masterless, and left that way too long because no master could take up their training after…after what always happens to Jedi in wars.

Padawan Vrosch’s master died very early on, after taking a padawan very young on both ends. They went to their master’s funeral, when they were still affording every Jedi lost in battle their own funeral, their own pyre and remembrance.

Most Padawans their age would have been at odd ends; but Vrosch quietly took up their own education, signing up for and attending classes as they came, joining initiates in their saber training, and patiently waiting for the day someone noticed them again.

They also found purpose in these intervening years, a much harder task: attending all the funerals held for fallen Jedi at the Temple.

“I was the only one there for my master,” Padawan Vrosch speaks solemnly up to him. “When he died.”

Mace settles down next to them in the gardens—still too quiet, too empty, too devoid of the sparks of brightness that made it easy to just be in—and waits, patiently, for what the Force is telling him he needs to hear.

Not just the Force. Mace has trained one Padawan to Knighthood already. A youngling alone shouldn’t stay that way.

“I know the war was important,” Vrosch continues. “The Jedi wouldn’t fight in it if it wasn’t.”

Their faith stirs some inkling of wonder and shame from Mace; he finds he isn’t so certain.

“But we’re Jedi,” they say insistently. “We’re all Jedi. We shouldn’t die alone, and we shouldn’t pass into the Force alone, and we shouldn’t be remembered alone.

“I can’t fight very well, Master Windu,” Vrosch whispers, their tentacles twitching listlessly, like this is a failure on their part. “But I could do this. We aren’t mean to be alone, Master Windu.”

Mace sighs and looks out over too-quiet gardens.

“No, we’re not, Padawan.”

—

“Where is he?”

Ahsoka has been avoiding Obi-Wan for this exact reason.

“I don’t know,” she says quietly, looking back at him steadily. Steady, steady, so, so steady; Ahsoka is steady because if she isn’t then it all falls apart. She’s certain and resolute because if she isn’t then she was wrong, and they Fall.

Obi-Wan runs a hand through his hair, pulling too-long strands out of his face. He’s eroded to the quick. They all are. But leaving on what should have been the last mission of the war, only to return to find the Republic and your padawan on the brink of collapse, your oldest enemy free and your former grandpadawan responsible for freeing him…

The one thing he could still be sure of had been Cody, and even that was taken from him. Now, he has only himself.

“He pulled us back from the Fall, master, and left without taking advantage of it. I don’t think we can ask more from him than that.”

Welcome to my world, Kenobi.

None of their shields are functioning anymore. Ahsoka gets Obi-Wan’s full impression of Maul, his sense of Maul’s whole self, and accepts it as another burden on her shoulders. She knew the second she took Maul’s hand that Master Obi-Wan would never forgive her, would never understand, and she did it anyway.

Before he can work through to quiet acceptance of another grievous wound from someone he didn’t expect—a burden that might finally break her—Ahsoka untangles them from each other in the Force and walks away.

Infinite sadness, the Force murmurs to her, but she doesn’t look back.

—

It’s like they hit the Republic and the Order and the Galaxy over and over and over and over and over again until cracks spread into their very foundations—and then each took the finishing blow inside themselves, in place of the things they all bled and died and Fell for.

And they all shattered instead.

—

When Ahsoka tells Rex what she wants, he drags her to Cody—who gives in with surprisingly little resistance, and then lets her watch his comm to Commander Fox and the face that he makes, because Cody outranks everyone, and Fox can’t say no. It almost makes up for stifling-fear-anger-betrayal from her time in Fox’s custody.

Sometimes, Ahsoka forgets that Anakin spent half a year serving with Cody the same way Ahsoka served with Rex.

They try to take her lightsabers at the last checkpoint, but she hands them off to Rex to safely hang from his belt. Not a single one of the men here can be trusted with them in her mind, even though that’s not fair.

The hard part of being self-aware is knowing you’re being irrational with no way to stop.

She waves the escort off, and to her surprise, they leave, though she can feel them linger just around the corner.

One beat, two beats, three beats of silence.

Fine.

Ahsoka settles onto the durasteel floor, lets the cold seep into legs and work its way up her lekku and down her montrals.

In, out, in, out, in…out…i n… . . o u t . .. . …….

Her-not-her-other expands and contracts in time with her lungs, and she becomes grassland; wind whips across the plains and she is the predator at the center, low to the ground, tasting the breeze and aware of every creature, every hidey-hole, every current. Daughter, the wind murmurs, and a convor’s cry echoes across the endless sky.

In the place between them, grassland and frigid desert meet, warm and cold winds mixing to create something more. Something terrible. They are not the same winds; the predator snarls, for it knows death rides on the cold.

Death and betrayal.

Barriss stiffens in her cell, and Ahsoka sighs. As it should be, she thinks, but also, that’s not why I’m here.

But also, Barriss, is that true? and justice is merely the construct of the current power base.

Barriss’ eyes fly open at that. “So, the rumors are true. You did help him,” she says dully.

“He helped me,” Ahsoka fires back. Sighs again. “But maybe it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh?” Barriss raises an eyebrow cooly.

With your help, the Jedi can stop Sidious before it’s too late!

Too late for what? The Republic to fall? It already has, and you just can't see it! There is no justice, no law, no order, except for the one that will replace it!

Energy crackles between them, and Ahsoka bites her lip.

“I think…” she hesitates. “I think he was right, Barriss,” she whispers. “I think you were right, too.”

Barriss’ breath catches in her throat, her eyes snagging Ahsoka’s until they’re caught in a deadlock and warm and cold winds rise, rise, rise together, and a squall erupts in the Force. At the edge of it, the clone troopers shift, discomforted.

“You can feel it, too?” Barriss asks desperately, and Ahsoka catches flashes of Master Luminara sitting where she sits now, beaten and drawn and blind.

In, out. Ahsoka expands the grasslands and points out the guiding winds to friend-not. These aren’t Master Windu’s shatterpoints, but they are everywhere: in the Senate, in the Temple, on the Star Destroyers, in the Jedi and the people and the clones. The Republic has shattered already. It just hasn’t fallen to pieces. The Republic is failing! The Republic is Falling.

Tears slip down Barriss’ face, relief-fear-sadness-righteous. Ahsoka trills, acknowledgement-soothing-fear-anger.

“What are we doing? What are we going to do?” Barriss throws out.

“What have we done?” Ahsoka counters. Blasters-energy-darkness-death-dying-agony-conflict-violence-pain-destruction-death-war-war-war-war.

In, war, out, war.

“It didn’t die with Sidious. I thought—but Maul was right, you were right. It’s all of us. And I don’t know how to fix it, Barriss, and I don’t think anyone else does, either.” She shifts, hugging her knees to her chest. The predator morphs, uncertain, into prey, akul-scented on the wind, nowhere to run; they can only face it.

“That’s because it’s not our job,” Barriss says, face darkening.

“Why not? We are j—” Ahsoka swallows the word. They aren’t. Barriss, expelled. Ahsoka, lost.

Barriss shakes her head sharply. “No, that’s not what I meant. We should never have—we—we’re peacekeepers!” She says indignantly. “And that doesn’t mean pacifist, but it also doesn’t mean warmonger. The jedi lost their honor the second they put us on the battlefield.”

Blasters-energy-darkness-death-dying-agony-conflict-violence-pain-destruction-death-war-war-war-war.

Death Watch surrounds her, too close, and it damns them; her lightsabers whirl out and catch all four of them in the neck at once. And on to the next before their heads roll to a stop. Bloodless, cauterized death-wounds, but the smell of it….

The grasslands are set ablaze, and the predator learns to run with the flames, instead of from them.

Barriss’ hands are never fully clean. Mud and viscera stain her skirts as she lashes out at the Umbarans to protect her men, and then drops to hold the men she couldn’t protect together in the Force, desperately failing to hold them all together, Master Luminara isn’t here no one is here it’s just Barriss and Death nipping at her heels.

Desert sands whirl and whip like glass shards, higher and higher and colder and colder until all that lasts is the storm.

And….and….

Anakin, only seven years older than Ahsoka is; Master Obi-Wan hadn’t even been knighted yet at his age. Ahsoka thinks about being thirteen and missing Temple classes for battles. Thinks about being fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and feeling death emanate from her lightsabers in the unifying force, stronger than any other feeling.

Thinks about being knighted at seventeen. Thinks about Barriss alone on the battlefield. Thinks about Katooni, and wonders if she’s a Padawan yet.

Thinks about half of the Jedi Order, gone.

When the guards come back for her, Ahsoka stands and works the kinks out of her muscles ruthlessly fast, too used to her surroundings shifting on a credit to let that kind of weakness linger. Barriss stares after her with water and hope in her eyes, because they both know Ahsoka is coming back. More questions lie between them than answers, now.

—

The debriefings turn into hearings, public ones. Ahsoka’s shoulders tense every time she sets foot in the Senate, feeling the searching-grasping-angry-false atmosphere. As inaction continues to dominate their government, some senators have started making noise about someone to blame for all of this. Like Sidious isn’t to blame; like they all aren’t to blame.

Whenever the noise overwhelms her, the directionless anger prowling for an easy target, she finds her feet taking her back to Senator Organa’s offices, again and again. It’s the will of the Force that he’s always there when she does, always with tea already waiting for them. The unifying Force swirls lazily in the space around them in a way Ahsoka can’t interpret; like the future has its eyes on this moment in its past.

They talk about the proceedings. About the war. About the peace talks some Jedi are still presiding over without any authority to back them. Ahsoka discovers that she has opinions about these that are uniquely her own, ones Senator Organa finds fascinating in a purely kind way.

Senator Organa opens up about the troubles Alderaan’s relief missions face, without proper authority and with the Republic forces’ attention off some of the usual hyperspace lanes.

Frustration is a bonding emotion between them. But the time they spend together is the only peace Ahsoka’s life affords her.

—

When Ahsoka left the Jedi Order, she felt the weight of all the work she wasn’t doing press hard on her shoulders, guilt twining between her legs and tripping her up every time happiness or contentment seemed in reach. It made it so easy to take Bo Katan’s hand when she reached out; so easy to take on Mandalore’s battles as her own, because it felt like war and inaction were her only options.

Ahsoka was decisive. Her actions determined the course of so many lives. So many troopers under her command, so many citizens depending on their victory; and for those brief, too-long hours with Maul, the whole Republic balanced on their backs.

Now, inaction has descended again. The weight of roads not taken and guilt encircle her throat like a collar. With Master Obi-Wan and Commander Cody and Captain Rex in the Senate every day, with Padmé and Senator Organa, the future of the Republic doges her every step, but she’s nearly powerless to help.

And it doesn’t help that her future with the Order is still up in the air.

Master Windu seems to have set her brief partnership with Maul aside until they know whether the Republic will fix itself, but having the threat of his disapproval hang over her head is worse than any swift punishment he could have devised. Like, for instance, barring her from rejoining the Order.

The Temple is her home. The Jedi are her people. Ahsoka knows she doesn’t want to live without them anymore.

But the Order has ground to a halt, and Ahsoka doesn’t know how to be still, anymore; her waiting is purely predatory, a simple watching for the next moment to strike.

Meditating has never been her strong suit, but she takes it up again anyway. It’s supposed to afford her clarity, if not peace.

In, out. In, out.

In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out.

Ahsoka lets out a frustrated huff. It’s so easy when she slips into the grasslands and the desert with Barriss; the both of them searching for answers no one seems to have, answers to questions too many people aren’t asking.

But on her own? For herself?

Not a damn moment of clarity.

She lets out another frustrated huff and pushes to her feet. Fine. Moving meditation, it is. In, out. Rise. In, out.

In, out. Left foot back, right foot forward, arm across the body. Ahsoka automatically pulls her empty grip in front of her face, instead of at her side, and lets her other hand act as both counterbalance and guard behind her.

In, out. In, out.

Forward, back.

Parry, attack, defend.

Deflect. In, out.

In, out. In, out, In….. out…. …. ……….

She alternates slow and fast repetitions and allows the living Force to flow through her, abandoning all thought toward the future.

In out forward back parry attack defend deflect in out; In, out, forward, back, parry, attack, defend, deflect, in……out……..

“Always in motion, the future is,” Master Yoda says from where he’s settled into the grass across from her. “Always in motion, you are, Ahsoka.”

In, out. The grasslands recede, leaving only Ahsoka. She dashes the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and falls into slow, easy stretches, letting the moment extend between her and her oldest teacher.

When they’re both ready, she releases a last breath and lowers herself in front of him.

“Happy here, you are not.” His ears dip low. “Happy here, many are not. Leaving, many are, to find themselves outside the Jedi Order.”

Ahsoka says nothing, content to wait for him to ask, not sure she has an answer to offer.

He sighs. “Leaving, are you, Ahsoka Tano?”

“I don’t know, master. I don’t know…what I’m supposed to do now.”

Yoda offers no answers, either.

“Jedi, you are,” he says, but it feels like a question. He feels…uncertain, and it strikes Ahsoka like a blow. Yoda isn’t supposed to be uncertain; he’s supposed to be…Yoda!

We’re peacekeepers! Barriss’ voice says in her mind, and he and Ahsoka flinch as one.

But…

“Yes,” she mulls, “I am a Jedi.” In, out. “But I don’t know what that means anymore. What we stand for. What we’re supposed to do,” she repeats her earlier refrain.

Yoda hums. “Neither do I,” he says, full of mischief and sorrow for not having the answers younglings always expect from him.

“Jedi, you are; in the Temple, Jedi, you are. On Mandalore, Jedi, you are. And on Felucia, Alderaan, Naboo, Tatooine.

“Jedi, you are, always.”

It rings out in the Force. Daughter, it murmurs to her, and the cantor soars over the grasslands, free once again.

Her breath shudders out of her, leaving tears in its wake. She shudders, and cries, until it turns into great rolling sobs that wrack her whole body and seep into the Force around them, sinking into the grass and plants and trees.

Relief. It flows openly between her and Master Yoda. Relief-identity-purpose-forgiveness-Jedi.

“Searching, you are, for answers none have yet. Find them for ourselves, we must. Yes,” he hums again. “Find them for ourselves, we will, and then, know them together, we will.”

She wipes uselessly at her face, still crying. “But what about the Senate, the armistices, the clones—”

Yoda shakes his head. “Your job, this is not. Jedi, you are. Jedi Knight, I name you, Ahsoka Tano; now; always. But young, you still are. Heavy burdens, we have placed on the shoulders of all our younglings.”

“But you just said I was a Knight,” she protests, and he smiles at her.

“Younglings,” he grumbles playfully. “Younglings you all are, to me. Even Master Windu.”

A beat.

“Youngling you were, when sent into battle, you were. When send you into battle, the Council did.” He sighs heavily. “Great things, you have achieved, on the field of battle. Under Master Skywalker’s tutelage,” he emphasizes Anakin’s new title. “An exaggeration, it is not, to say that saved the Republic, you have, Ahsoka Tano; even if with the unlikeliest of allies, you did. But had to, you should not have.”

Half the Order, gone.

Fresh tears flood her eyes, and the beginnings of a dehydration headache start to throb.

“Many things, we will have to consider. What we have done, for the sake of this war. What we will do, for the sake of our future. Easier it is, for myself and other masters, to contemplate these things here, in the Temple. Easier it is not, for you.”

In, out. She breathes easier now than she has since the Temple was bombed months and months past. Now that Master Yoda…he…. Force, his approval still means so much to her.

“Need my approval, you did not,” Master Yoda chides gently.

“I wanted it, though,” Ahsoka realizes. In, out. With his approval, so much of her uncertainty is gone, the things that temper her will to act dissipating with the knowledge that she isn’t alone anymore.

Jedi aren’t meant to be alone.

A breeze winds through the physical world around them, and Ahsoka tilts her head up to feel it better.

“Here we will be, when ready you are to return.”

—

Unsurprisingly, she finds Skyguy at Padmé’s apartment. The two of them kind of abandoned any pretense when the war ended and he got to stay on Coruscant for more than a week. When his troops—and the Republic, nominally—didn’t need him on the field of battle anymore.

“I have something to tell you,” they say at the same time, awkwardly sitting across from each other at Padmé’s kitchen table; Padmé herself having retreated to her—her and Skyguy’s? —bedroom with her handmaidens to keep packing. Ahsoka doesn’t know everything about human reproductive cycles, but it doesn’t seem like Padmé can get much bigger without literally bursting, so she must be preparing for the end of it. She’ll be on Naboo for a few months.

Or at least, that’s what she says. Ahsoka suspects she may be back on Coruscant sooner, given the state of the galactic government.

They both gesture for the other to go first; they both pause awkwardly, waiting each other out, and Ahsoka rolls her eyes at them internally. Little gods, really? This is what they’re reduced to

And then they speak at the same time again:

“I’m rejoining the Order.”

“I’m leaving the Order.”

“What?” They yell, together, and Ahsoka growls at the both of them.

“You’re leaving the Order?” Ahsoka demands, finally speaking on her own.

“I,” Anakin blinks, and rubs the back of his neck like she’s blindsided him. “Yeah. I don’t think I can stay, Snips, not with the way things are.”

She raises her brow. “And how is that?”

He rolls his eyes at her, externally. “I’ve never exactly been a model Jedi, Ahsoka.”

“Banthashit. Everyone says you’re one of the best Jedi in the Order.”

“No,” he counters, “they say I’m one of the best Generals in the order. One of the best warriors. And now,” he turns to look in the direction Padmé went and his whole being softens in the Force, “I want to try and be one of the best husbands. One of the best fathers,” he grins, and it strikes Ahsoka that he’s so young. He’s so young, to have done the things he’s done. So young to be a father.

Holy kriff, Anakin Skywalker is gonna be a dad.

Visions of him jumping off of cliffs and being electrocuted run through her mind.

He catches the memories and grumbles at her. Sighs.

“I don’t think I want to try and be a better Jedi, is the thing. There is no try,” he says bitterly. “Only do or do not.”

“And you…do not,” Ahsoka says hesitantly.

“I love my wife,” he says. “I love my children. I love you, and Obi-Wan, and Rex and our men. But I don’t love the Jedi Order anymore, if I ever did.”

Ahsoka thinks she loves the Order as much as it’s possible to love something so integral to who she is and who she wants to be.

Were you not cast out of your Order?

I left voluntarily.

Yes, but you were motivated to leave by the hypocrisy of the Jedi Council.

Many things, we have to consider.

“So, what are you going to do now? If you’re not a Jedi.” Ahsoka asks.

Anakin leans back in his seat, crosses his arms.

What do you want with Anakin Skywalker?

He is the key to everything. To destroy. He has long been groomed as my master’s new apprentice.

The Force roils as he sees what she has seen, hears what Maul said to her; it’s always so responsive for him. Anger. Hate. Disbelief.

Yeah. Ahsoka didn’t believe it either, until Maul told her who Sidious really was. Until they got to Coruscant and Ahsoka could feel Anakin, his rage and fear and uncertainty. They barely got there in time, and the galaxy hung in the balance between Anakin and Ahsoka. He pulls the memory of that from her too, and visibly brings himself back under control.

“I’m going to Naboo with Padmé. And maybe,” he hesitates. “I think I’ll help Rex and the other troops out, too. With whatever their plans are. Some other Jedi are helping, too. Aayla, for one,” he adds when he sees her twitch in curiosity. “Padmé’s been helping them fight the Senate for citizenship rights, and they’re just starting a search for places to settle down.

“It’ll calm a lot of anxieties in the Senate when they find it,” Ahsoka says, mulling it over. “Having a standing army makes everyone nervous.”

Anakin snorts. “Sure. But it’s less that and more that they deserve it. They always deserved it,” he says lowly, the seeds of a greater anger taking root. “And if we tried to frame it like that, then some senators would say the troopers shouldn’t be able to leave until the Separatists decommission their droids.”

Something doesn’t quite make sense about that. Ahsoka thinks about what she’s caught of the recent debriefings, and can’t remember any of the senators talking about this as anything more than a distant possibility.

“Hang on,” she says, the pieces coming together. “What exactly are you planning, Skyguy?”

He grins, sharply this time. “Yeah, don’t go spreading it around. We, uh, requisitioned some medical droids and started removing their chips weeks ago. There’s nothing stopping them for doing whatever they want, now.”

“Holy kriff,” Ahsoka breathes, eyes wide. “How is this even going to—they’re still members of the GAR, can’t they get court martialed?”

“Not if all of them leave,” he smirks. “There’s no law or force in the galaxy that could tell them all what to do, anymore.”

She thinks about Anakin and Rex, Master Obi-Wan and Commander Cody, Master Windu and Commander Ponds. “Not even the Jedi.”

“Which you’re going back to.”

“I am a Jedi,” she says, and the Force winds around her like a satisfied lothcat. Anakin senses it and purses his lips. “A Jedi Knight,” she adds, and his shoulders sag in defeat.

“It suits you,” he admits, and leans back toward her over the table.

“Just because I’m a Jedi doesn’t mean I’m staying here, though. I’m not just gonna sit around, anymore, even if the Order isn’t assigning missions.”

He hesitantly reaches for her hand. “So, you’ll come to Naboo to meet the twins, when they’re born? It won’t be long now,” he says, not meeting her eyes.

She reaches back, leaning closer to snag his prosthetic hand, too. “I wouldn’t miss it, Skyguy.”

A beat.

“Hang on, twins? Two of them?”

He bursts out laughing, and the whole apartment brightens with his delight. “That’s exactly what Obi-Wan said!”

—

Ahsoka walks into Senator Organa’s offices on purpose, for once, and he looks up at her in surprise.

“I see I’ve finally caught you off guard,” she grins. “I was starting to think you had foresight, the way you’re always ready for me.”

“Well,” he smiles warmly and gestures for her to sit, “perhaps you’ve finally done something unpredictable, Master Jedi.”

He’s called her that this whole time, oddly enough, from the first moment she burst into his space in a panic. Always certain of who she was. It’s pretty telling in retrospect that she never corrected him.

“What brings you to me today?” He asks.

“You’re still having trouble with your relief missions,” Ahsoka states. “I want to help.”

Senator Organa’s brow furrows. “I was unaware the Jedi Order has started assigning missions again. Or the Senate, for that matter.”

“They haven’t,” Ahsoka grins. “But as a fully-fledged Jedi Knight, I’m allowed to offer my services as I see fit, even outside officially sanctioned missions.”

“That’s a very generous offer.”

“I want to help.” She repeats plainly, but it means something different this time. “And I know you want to help, too. I trust your judgment; and,” she shrugs, “Alderaan’s judgment, too.”

“And what kind of help is that, exactly?”

“Whatever kind of help is needed. Diplomacy, piloting, negotiating.” She grins again. “Aggressive negotiations.”

Senator Organa studies her, his hand coming up to his chin in a contemplative gesture. “I trust your judgement as well, Master Jedi.”

Ahsoka sighs in relief. “Well, that’s good.” Her backup plans if this didn’t work were pretty, uh, nebulous.

“You’ve been very occupied by the Senate hearings and the armistices; I suppose,” he says slowly, meeting her eyes directly, “I’m surprised at this decision. I thought you would remain on Coruscant until matters were settled.”

She tilts her head to the side and considers it. “Maybe, in another life. But I think I’m ready to let other people decide the fate of the galaxy again,” she says like it’s a joke, but feels relieved when Senator Organa doesn’t take it like one. “I think,” she continues tentatively, “I can finally trust that everything will still be here when I return. And in the meantime, there are people who need my help, and I need to help them.”

“You’re in luck,” Senator Organa says, pulling one datapad of many off his desk and thumbing it open. “Queen Breha just finalized the details of a joint relief mission with Chandrilla to Ryloth. They only accept aid now when it isn’t the military delivering it, but the hyperspace lanes between there and Alderaan are still tumultuous. And to be honest,” he admits, “we could use some help smoothing the transfers over with local officials, too.”

Ahsoka breathes out, and feels this mission sink onto her shoulders, displacing the greater weights that took up that space before. Greater, but not more important.

“I’ll put you in contact with the mission lead, they can give you details about departure times and what exactly they’ll want you to do.”

“Thank you, Senator Organa,” Ahsoka says as she pushes to her feet.

“I think you can call me Bail,” he says, extending a hand.

“Then I think you should call me Ahsoka,” she replies, taking it.

—

Anakin drags Rex and Kix and Jesse and Cody to Naboo with him, when it’s time, and Padmé thanks them quietly for bringing him back to her, more whole than he’s been since they rode into an arena chained together.

Time away from the politics of rebuilding a government and the Jedi Order—and the relationship between the two and the larger galaxy—has been so good for him that she can’t begrudge personal opportunities lost.

At least now, she knows he’s safe in more ways than one, working for something he really believes in.

—

Ahsoka meets Luke and Leia ten days local standard after they’re born at Varykino on Naboo, and loves them instantly.

A Feeling strikes her as she stares down at the pair of them, utterly enchanting and more powerful than anything she’s ever seen before. “Oh, they’re going to be trouble.”

“You think?” Anakin grins at her.

—

Barriss can feel it, somehow, when Ahsoka finally leaves Coruscant again. Like their increasingly frequent joint meditations have bound them together.

Her strength in the unifying Force has only ever brought her pain; foresight in the middle of a war is nothing but death and darkness. But as Ahsoka leaves, more settled than she’s been since Barriss utterly destroyed the trust between them, and between them and the Order and the Republic, the Force seeps into her vision once again.

Desert winds swirl, sweeping aside too-familiar sands to reveal what potential lies underneath.

Growth. New beginnings. Life.

Barriss sees:

Her hands sweeping over the head of an anxious youngling, murmuring sweet nothings as she applies bacta patches to the saber burns the little Twi’leck who slipped during their first training class, completely accidental.

“It’s going to be alright,” Barriss says with a smile, and she believes it. And the youngling believes her.

Barriss s e e s:

It is not so easy for the scars of war to fade.

We are not soldiers; but we used to be; but we shouldn’t have been.

When the Jedi Order shouldered the burden of galactic war for the Senate, their lauded foresight didn’t reveal the perils of the aftermath. What the real cost of war is for the soldiers who fight it: the ones who die for it, and the ones who have to live with it. Live with what they did in the name of something that was truly corrupted.

Too late for what? The Republic to fall? It already has, and you just can't see it! There is no justice, no law, no order, except for the one that will replace it!

The temple of the New Republic is not a sanctuary suffused with the warmth of a thousand years of brotherhood that they once lived in. It reflects its inhabitants in more ways than one.

It is an alert place, the tension of a thousand survivors of Civil War trained to be on their guard, always. At once a more insular place, disillusioned with the government they’re re-learning how to serve, even now, years after the fact, and a more connected place, with the Jedi more aware of the people themselves by necessity. There are some who will always be more comfortable in a battle than out of it, no matter how long it’s been, because they came of age in battle after battle after battle. But there are others who are finally growing up without a war nipping at their heels, corrupting them.

Jedi come and go more frequently than they used to. There are more Rangers and Watchman than there have been in hundreds of years.

But they are. And they will be.

Barriss sees:

Ahsoka climbs the steps to the Temple, her home, completely at ease, the echoes of her descending them in anguish and uncertainty long faded. Returning from a long, satisfying journey.

Barriss is waiting for her just inside the Temple walls and falls in step next to her. They make their way through the Temple together.

Younglings and Padawans and younger knights and older masters alike whisper in Ahsoka’s wake, as they always do; things they once whispered about her Master, and his Master before him: one of the greatest Jedi of the era. Sith-slayer. Negotiator. Warrior. Her adventures are easy stories to tell in creches, ones where the Jedi triumphs over many different types of evil.

The reality of them is more complicated, of course, but that is something saved for people who can bear it and learn from in; not fear it.

“She’s waiting for you,” Barriss says calmly.

Ahsoka groans. “Barriss, I haven’t even been home five minutes, can’t this wait?”

“You’re ready. She’s more than ready; she’s been waiting for you.”

“Am I? Ready, I mean,” Ahsoka says uncertainly.

They pause in the hallway, passersby parting around them without protest because it’s clear to everyone that the pair of them must stop here.

“Are you?”

She heaves a long, heavy sigh that slides into another groan. “To train a padawan?” Ahsoka hesitates. “Or to stay in the Temple again?”

Barriss says nothing, projecting the serenity she feels every day in the Temple; the serenity she feels when she’s with Ahsoka; the serenity that emanates from their current topic through the unifying Force.

“Because I won’t train a Padawan the way we were trained,” Ahsoka says harshly. “Always on the move. No solid ground to fall back on, no peace. That’s not who we are.”

“Not anymore,” Barriss replies, with that same hint of bitterness. In, out. She releases it as quickly as it appeared.

“I want her to know peace, Barriss. And love,” she adds petulantly, still stinging from her last debate with some of their elders over the Skywalker Clan, the one Barriss suspects played no small part in sending her back out of the Temple again. “Safety.”

“Well, you have your answer, then.”

Ahsoka looks at her blankly.

“Who better to provide those things than you? It’s not like you’d trust anyone else with her, at this point. Still ready to take the fate of the whole galaxy onto your shoulders, Knight Tano,” Barriss teases, gently, because that weight still aches for her friend even now.

“And you’re still ready to take its wounds onto yours, Healer Offee,” Ahsoka returns.

“It’s not like you’ll be alone,” Barriss says with exasperation, starting through the Temple again. Ahsoka keeps to her side automatically, her ‘sabers swinging at her hips. “You’ll have me, and Master Kenobi, and Knight Katooni, and even—Skywalker,” she settles on delicately. “Even if he should never be allowed near our younglings.”

“Maybe we can share her,” Ahsoka muses lightly, still protesting Barriss’ decision not to take an apprentice. Barriss lets it go for now, because she just won the argument.

They slow to a halt outside the Bear Clan’s quarters, and Ahsoka curses. “C’mon, I haven’t even showered yet!”

“You’re no good to anyone putting things off. Always on the move, that Ahsoka Tano. Always looking forward.”

Ahsoka sighs again, with a touch of finality, and relents. She turns to Barriss and tilts her forehead to bump into her friend’s. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Barriss says, and presses into Ahsoka’s touch for a moment, before giving her friend one final push.

“Hey!” Ahsoka exclaims as she stumbles through the Clan’s doorway, but Barriss is already halfway down the hallway, her lingering amusement in the Force the only sign she was ever there.

—

Barriss sits in her cell and weeps unabashedly, full of relief for this gift the Force has given her: a future.

For her people.

For herself.

—

fin.

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dettiot · 4 years

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Fic: late-night interruption 10/11

late-night interruption Author: dettiot Rating: G Summary: When Obi-Wan receives a late-night comm from Sabé, he’s not sure what to expect. But what he learns will change many lives . . . and the fate of the Republic.

Also available on AO3.

XXX

There was a hum in the air as the time for the meeting grew closer, due to the rising tension. Or perhaps the tension was simply in Obi-Wan’s imagination, due to his anticipation of what would soon happen. After all, once Anakin entered this room, he would sense the shift in his old master’s outlook. As would Masters Yoda and Windu when they arrived.

And while Anakin would probably just tease him a bit, he doubted Yoda or Mace would be so benign.

He hoped the importance of this meeting and the information Satine and Bo-Katan were to present would stay the Jedi Masters’ tongues for now. And unfortunately, they might be more upset over Anakin’s actions than Obi-Wan’s. Not that it was fair, how Anakin was always so distrusted by so many on the Council.

Even worse, it did not reflect well on the leaders of the Order to have so little faith in one of their members.

When Ahsoka stepped into the room, Obi-Wan remembered Anakin wasn’t the only one to have suffered from the Council’s actions.

“Hello, Ahsoka. It’s good to see you,” he said warmly, wanting her to know how pleased he was to see her.

“Thank you, Master Obi-Wan,” she said, smiling at him. Her eyes flicked between him and Satine, locking on their gentle handhold, before her smile widened. “It’s good to see you, too.”

It was strange to openly hold hands with Satine like this. To expose himself to such scrutiny. But it also felt long overdue, so he kept his hand wrapped around Satine’s for now.

“We’ll have more time to catch up later, I hope,” he said. “I would like to hear what you’ve been up to.”

“I’d like that, Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka said, her smile becoming a smirk. “I’d love to hear from your perspective some of the stories the Duchess has told me about the year you spent protecting her.”

“Let me guess: the venom mites story?” Obi-Wan asked, sighing as Ahsoka nodded. He turned to Satine. “Really, my dear. Holding grudges is beneath you.”

Satine lifted her chin. “So were the venom mites you dropped me on.”

Ahsoka’s soft snicker made Obi-Wan roll his eyes, but then Anakin and Padmé walked in and Anakin all but dragged his wife over to their group.

“Well, well, well,” Anakin said, smiling widely. “It looks like your reunion was a success.” He nudged Padmé gently and jerked his chin towards Obi-Wan and Satine’s joined hands.

Both Padmé and Ahsoka let out soft laughs at Anakin’s unsubtle actions, while Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Really, Anakin. You are a married man with children now,” Obi-Wan said, looking at his former Padawan. “Aren’t you above such juvenile teasing?”

“Nope,” Anakin said, amusement rolling off his Force presence.

Padmé gave both Obi-Wan and Satine a gentle smile. “He’s just really happy. We both are.”

“Thank you, Padmé,” Obi-Wan said, unable to keep from giving Satine a fond look. “So are we.”

“As much as I’d like to talk more, I must speak to Threepio about arranging the refreshments,” Padmé said. She tugged on Anakin’s arm, pulling him down so she could kiss his cheek. “Behave, Ani.”

Anakin looked a bit perturbed, but he nodded and turned back to the group. He shifted back and forth on his feet, some of his levity fading into apprehension. An apprehension that Obi-Wan also felt.

Obi-Wan squeezed Satine’s hand before letting it go. “Satine, I need to have a word with Anakin.”

She gave him a gentle smile. “Of course. I should speak with Bo as well, to prepare for our presentation.”

“All right,” he said, smiling back at her and watching as she stepped carefully over to her sister. Ahsoka followed Satine: shifting into protector mode, Obi-Wan observed with approval.

Now alone with Anakin, he looked at the man who was his brother as much as his student. Anakin tried for a smile but wasn’t fully successful. “So . . .” he said, letting his voice trail off.

“Regardless of what happens during this meeting, we will need to report to the Jedi Council about our actions,” Obi-Wan said, knowing that there was no time to hesitate. “Neither Yoda nor Mace will miss your babies, not with their Force presences. And hearing about Satine’s survival will make them question my status.”

“I know,” Anakin said softly. He looked at Obi-Wan for a long moment. “Master . . . I don’t want to stay in the Order if it means I’d have to give up my family.” His face twisted. “I--I’d hate leaving you behind, not to mention the 501st. And I feel guilty about stepping away from my role in the war and dishonoring Master Qui-Gon’s faith in me, but I . . . I just can’t do it.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, resting a hand on his shoulder. He tried to speak, but his voice seemed caught in his throat. He swallowed and managed to push the words out. “You have done more to honor Qui-Gon’s belief in you by following your heart, following your own interpretation of the Force, than by staying to be some mythical Chosen One.”

It was easy to see in Anakin’s expressive face when the words sunk in. Anakin’s eyes widened and his whole being seemed lit up with hope. “Yeah?” he said, a bit gruffly.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “We’ll speak with the Council after this meeting, and I will be by your side.”

“Yeah?” Anakin repeated, that teasing light coming back into his eyes.

“Not now, Anakin,” Obi-Wan cautioned him, lifting his hand from Anakin’s shoulder and holding it up as a gesture to stop. “There is another matter I wanted to bring up: our shared vision.”

Although Anakin clearly wasn’t happy to have to drop his teasing, nearly three years of war had taught him when to focus on business. “What about it?” he asked.

“Should we reveal what we learned to everyone here? Or should it be kept as a matter for the Jedi?”

When Anakin still looked confused, Obi-Wan explained in a lowered voice, “The Chancellor is your mentor, Anakin. Do you want to accuse him of being a Sith, based on a vision, in a room full of people who know he is your mentor and who are not Jedi?”

“Oh,” Anakin said quietly before swallowing audibly.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, looking at Anakin’s bowed head. “I wish there was more time for us to discuss the vision, to decide what to do--”

“I don’t need more time,” Anakin said, lifting his head to look at him. “I . . . I don’t think we should bring up the vision here. The Council will need to know--and they’ll understand. But right now, with the Senators and Satine and her sister here--I think we should keep the discussion on the clones.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, impressed at Anakin’s strategy. “Since the matter of the inhibitor chip might be enough to cast suspicion on the Chancellor?”

Anakin nodded. “Yes. And . . . and if it turns out it’s not the Chancellor, and the vision isn’t what we thought it was--at least if the clones are safe, which means we would have removed a powerful weapon from our enemy, whoever that might be.”

“I agree,” Obi-Wan said as the chime of the doorbell sounded through the room. He drew in a breath and looked at Anakin. “Are you ready?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “As I’ll ever be.”

The sense of defeat and resignation rolling off Anakin concerned Obi-Wan, but sadly, this wasn’t the time to discuss it further. But Obi-Wan hoped they would get a chance after the meeting to really discuss this. Definitely before they made their announcements to the Jedi Council.

But for now, the matter at hand was not how both Anakin and himself had broken the Jedi Code or their shared vision of the Chancellor fighting Master Yoda. The matter was the clone army.

XXX

As the Duchess of Mandalore and leader of the Council of Neutral Systems, Satine had presided over several delicate diplomatic debates. But she wasn’t sure if there was ever a situation so delicate as this one. Even before you considered a cloaked and hooded figure sitting in the middle of the room, prompting curious glances from everyone as they entered.

The living room in Padmé’s apartment was large and spacious, and although there were only six guests, their personalities were great enough to make the room feel very crowded, especially combined with those already in the room.

In one corner were the Senators invited by Padmé: Bail Organa of Alderaan, Mon Mothma of Chandrila, and Onaconda Farr of Rodia. Along with Padmé, they represented a neat cross-section of Core and Mid-Rim worlds, influential in the Senate but with their own opinions on the war and other Republic matters.

Padmé was sitting on a couch between the Senators and the couch Satine was sharing with her sister. Anakin stood behind Padmé, while Obi-Wan was beside him.

Next to Satine, Bo shifted, her helmet tucked under her arm and her face set in a neutral expression. Politics was the last thing her sister cared about, but Satine appreciated her support. Not to mention Ahsoka, who had remained near them even as the invited members of the Jedi Order entered the apartment.

What must the girl be thinking, Satine wondered, seeing the men who had expelled her from the Order and then, with barely an apology, cleared her of the charges and expected her to return to those who had cast her out?

As she pondered that, her eyes were drawn to the opposite corner, where the Jedi were sitting. Master Yoda was sitting on a small cushion, which made him look less foolish than being swallowed up by a chair. It was the touch of a master politician, to make someone feel so comfortable. But Satine would expect nothing less of Padmé.

Beside Master Yoda, Master Mace Windu sat, his hands steepled together as he observed the room. His eyes rested on her and Satine kept her head slightly lowered, allowing the hood to shield her face. She had met both Jedi Masters before; she could guess they recognized her presence in the Force, like Obi-Wan could. She doubted her survival would surprise them very much.

And she wondered if they could tell how two of their most valuable members were on the verge of breaking with the Order.

Before she could follow that thought any further, Padmé rose to her feet. “Good afternoon,” she said, her clear voice carrying through the large room. “Thank you for attending this meeting: Senators, Jedi, and guests. At this time, I would like to introduce Lady Bo-Katan Kryze of Mandalore.”

Rising to her feet gracefully, Bo nodded to the groups in the room. “Thank you, Senator. I have come before you with critical information about the Republic’s clone army. They are not what they believe themselves to be.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Senator Farr asked defensively.

“No one in this room, nor anyone else in the Senate or Jedi Order, would know this,” Bo said, her head raised. “It is information that was provided to Mandalore, in our role as leader of the neutral systems of the galaxy, from certain citizens of Kamino.”

“And what is this information?” Master Windu asked, his voice silky smooth but laced with suspicion.

Bo leaned forward, placing a holotransmitter in the center of a table. She pressed a button and stood back to allow everyone to see the display. “Every clone has an inhibitor chip, placed in his brain, that will compel them to follow any of a number of pre-planned orders.”

Everyone leaned in, looking closer at a diagram showing the location of the inhibitor chip within a clone’s brain. Satine watched them as they took in this information, using a lifetime of political knowledge to read their faces.

Senators Organa and Mothma looked horrified. Senator Farr looked intrigued. It was the Jedi reactions that Satine was most interested in: while Master Windu appeared perturbed, Master Yoda’s narrowed eyes and pursed mouth seemed to convey worry.

For a long moment, silence filled the room. Then Senator Mothma spoke. “Have you verified this information?”

“We haven’t cut open a clone’s head yet, if that’s what you mean,” Bo said and Satine winced. She shot her sister a look, who sighed and continued, “We have extensively vetted the source and the data they provided. If it didn’t come straight from Kamino, their slicer was able to create a perfect forgery.”

Senator Organa leaned forward. “So, if the information is apparently trustworthy . . . we must examine the purpose of these chips. And how they were inserted into the clone army.”

“Know not, the Jedi, of these chips. Against the will of the Force, to tamper with sentients, it is,” Master Yoda said solemnly.

For the moment, Satine was thankful for her hood, so she didn’t have to school her expression at such hypocrisy from the grandmaster of the Jedi Order. When the Jedi Council did nothing but manipulate and control their members, against what was right and fair . . .

“Be that as it may, the Kaminoans must have provided you with data about the clones,” Senator Organa said smoothly. “Specifications and such. If there is no mention of these inhibitor chips in those documents, then . . . ”

Master Windu asked the obvious question. “How did these chips become part of the clone army and on whose orders?”

“We don’t know that,” Bo said. “But finding out who’s responsible is critical.”

“As well as removing these chips from the clones,” Padmé said.

“Wouldn’t that alert whoever put those chips in the clones in the first place?” Senator Farr asked, sounding grumpy.

And with that, the mood shifted from discovery to debate. Bo, her part done, sat down on the sofa beside Satine and leaned over towards her. “I don’t know how you could spend so many years dealing with such nonsense.”

Satine gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “This is democracy. It’s messy and imperfect, but I don’t think anyone in this room wants to replace it with something else.”

Bo looked doubtful but leaned back against the couch’s back, clearly getting comfortable.

But Satine couldn’t help leaning forward, following all the points being made by each individual, waiting for any sign her assistance was needed. The ideal plan was for her to stay withdrawn and uninvolved in the conversation and hope no one thought to ask who the hooded figure was. However, so few things went according to plan, and she wasn’t about to let the Republic destroy the galaxy just because a few people couldn’t compromise and see the bigger picture.

After an hour of discussion, Padmé rose and called the room to attention. “I believe a short break is in order,” she said, drawing a few surprised looks from her colleagues. She gave them a sheepish smile and gestured to Threepio. “My droid will provide anything you require during my absence.”

With that, Padmé slipped out of the room--probably to go tend to her babies, Satine guessed. She did hope she might have a chance to see them before she had to leave.

“Excuse me.”

So surprised to be addressed, Satine couldn’t help looking up at the face of Senator Organa. She quickly lowered her head before her hood could slip off. “Yes?” she asked, falling into her natural Mandalorian accent to disguise her voice.

The senator looked at her for a long moment, then smiled. “I don’t know if you remember me, Duchess, but we met once in happier times: shortly after you were confirmed in your rule of Mandalore.”

Of the people in this room to guess who she was, her money hadn’t been on Bail Organa. But then, Satine and he both came from similar backgrounds, but very dissimilar worlds.

Giving a small sigh, Satine lifted her hood away from her face, smoothing it out and looking up at him. “Hello, Senator Organa. Of course I remember you.”

She was truly getting tired of all the gasping that went on when she had to reveal herself. Perhaps Bo was right and she should just make some kind of public announcement.

But that could wait for later. For now, she rose to her feet, gently dismissing Senator Organa’s hand in order to stand on her own.

“Only the most critical matter could make me risk my recovery and step forward into the light of the public arena,” Satine said, looking at every one of the Senators and Jedi in front of her. “I hope you will not make this risk be a vain one.”

Her eyes connected with Obi-Wan. His hand was in front of his mouth, hiding whether he smiled or frowned. But his eyes, so pure and clear, were full of love and support.

And Satine couldn’t help smiling at him. Even though this was not the time to smile and think of herself.

But she had done her duty so far, and now it was up to the people she trusted: Padmé and Anakin, Ahsoka and Bo, and most of all, Obi-Wan.

They would convince everyone here to move forward. To act instead of endlessly debate. And if they needed help . . . she would give the last shove to make these argumentative passive nerfs stick their necks out and do what was right.

XXX

For once, Anakin wasn’t pushing his speeder to go as fast as possible. He knew Obi-Wan had noticed his non-reckless driving, and he was bound to be worried by it. But Anakin just wanted to take a few extra minutes to get to the Temple.

After all, it might be the last time he ever went to the Temple. The last time he was a Jedi.

Honestly, all the debating between the Senators and Masters Mace and Yoda got pretty boring after a while. Anakin thought there was a simple solution: find out who put the chips in the clones’ heads and then deal with it--both the chips and their puppet master.

But he knew it wouldn’t be so easy, and he was proven right. It took several hours before it was agreed for each group to split up and present to their larger bodies. Anakin and Obi-Wan would join Masers Mace and Yoda in talking to the Jedi Council, while Padmé and Bail Organa would present their information to the Senate, with Bo-Katan present.

He could only guess how the meeting with the Council would go. Probably even worse than the meeting he just had to sit through, because . . . because he knew Master Yoda and Master Mace knew that something was going on. The moment they had entered the apartment, they had sensed the twins and their sun-bright presence.

And neither of them would pass up an opportunity to put him in his place once again. Even with more important things going on.

Something about that realization made his hands relax around the controls. He felt an ache in his flesh hand--he must have been holding on tighter than he thought.

It didn’t matter what the Council did to him once they knew the truth about Padmé and the twins. Anakin knew his only option was to resign before being expelled. He had broken the Code. He had attachments--attachments he would not give up.

More than that, though . . . he was just tired of lying. Of hiding. It wasn’t fair to Padmé--she had been so right with her objections about a secret relationship. And although Anakin wouldn’t give up being married to Padmé over these last three years for anything, it was different now.

The twins didn’t deserve to be hidden away. They deserved to shine, to be whoever they wanted to be. For the first time in his life, he felt like he really understood what love was. Because of love, he would do anything for his children, even at the expense of what he had always thought was his purpose in life: being a Jedi.

Beside him, Obi-Wan made a soft hum. “You’re very thoughtful. But not angry. I’m surprised.”

“I’m surprised, too,” Anakin admitted. “I thought . . . I always thought at this moment that I’d be mad at the Council. For forcing me to do this. But . . . it wasn’t the Council’s fault that I broke the Code. It was mine. So I have to face the consequences, even if it isn’t fair and the Code is bantha poodoo.”

Obi-Wan smirked slightly. “Now you really do sound like a father. Except for the reference to a bantha’s excrement”

Anakin rolled his eyes and put the speeder in a swift downward plunge, just to torment his master. But instead of wincing and grabbing onto the speeder, Obi-Wan . . . laughed?

“Master? Are you all right?” Anakin asked, quickly levelling out of the dive.

“Yes, Anakin, I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said with a chuckle. “You’re not the only one feeling differently than he expected at this moment.”

“Oh?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, wondering if Obi-Wan’s strange mood was related to his conversation with the Duchess.

Obi-Wan looked out through the windshield for a long moment. Anakin looked forward, too, taking in Coruscant at sunset: the horizon red and gold, the sky above them a deep purple, streaks of light from speeders and ships moving around the tall buildings.

“I’m going to leave the Order.”

“You are? Really?” Anakin asked, feeling his fear diminish amid a surge of hope. At the idea of Obi-Wan actually maybe getting to be happy. “Because of Satine?”

“Yes . . . although that’s only part of it,” Obi-Wan said. “Although in truth, if it wasn’t for Satine, I would never leave. But we have a second chance now and--and I cannot keep hurting her.”

When Obi-Wan looked at him, there was such pain in his eyes, Anakin felt his heart ache for his old master.

“She told me she loved me, just before she died--or we both thought she was dying,” Obi-Wan said, his voice choked. “And--and I couldn’t say it back. I couldn’t comfort her in her last moments, because . . . because of the Code.”

Anakin didn’t know what to say. Well, no--he knew what he wanted to say. It might sound a bit weird, but it was what he felt, and he wanted his master to know.

“I . . . I’m proud of you, Obi-Wan.”

“It’s not really something to be proud of--” he tried to protest, but Anakin wasn’t going to let him brush this off.

“It is,” he interrupted. “I know how much Satine means to you, and how much being a Jedi matters. So choosing Satine . . . it’s a good thing, Master.”

It seemed to take Obi-Wan a moment to recover from Anakin’s words. They flew in silence towards the Temple, the tall, imposing structure starting to come into view before Obi-Wan spoke.

“I hope so,” he said quietly. “And not just for myself. I’ve realized over the last few days that . . . that as much as the Jedi believe that both master and padawan learn from each other, there comes a point where the master needs to let the padawan go. So they can be their own Jedi. So the master doesn’t hold back their padawan or themselves.”

How many times as a padawan, brash and arrogant and presumptuous, had he thought Obi-Wan was holding him back? Too many to count, Anakin knew. But now, looking back, he was grateful for every single time Obi-Wan urged him to think, to reflect, to consider. Because he had been a dumb, whiny kid with too much power, and the terror he could have inflicted without Obi-Wan . . . he didn’t want to think about it.

“You have been the best master of anyone in the Order, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said. “I know you were stuck with me, and--and I didn’t trust you for a long, long time. But I was wrong, and I’m glad to have you with me now.”

Obi-Wan let out a raspy chuckle. “And here I felt you were stuck with me. That I was failing you and failing Qui-Gon.”

“What?” Anakin said, looking at Obi-Wan in shock. “How the kriff did you get such an idea?”

“Perhaps because I knew my Padawan didn’t trust me?” Obi-Wan said dryly.

Anakin rolled his eyes. “All right, I get it.”

He could practically feel Obi-Wan’s smirk as he drew the speeder into a hanger at the Temple. He shut it down, then looked at Obi-Wan. “We’re supposed to live in the moment, but I know the past is always with us. But I think things are gonna be better in the future, Obi-Wan.”

His old master looked at him for a long moment. Some of the sadness, the exhaustion, had been lifted from his face. Anakin guessed some of it was thanks to Satine--but he thought that maybe some of it was thanks to him.

And it was a nice feeling to have. To feel connected with Obi-Wan, but not like as a padawan to his master.

Up until now, he had thought of Obi-Wan as his father. But now . . . now he felt like a brother. An older, stubborn, bossy and annoying brother who thought he knew it all, but a brother nonetheless.

It felt good.

“Well,” Anakin said, climbing to his feet, “let’s not keep the Council waiting to expel us.”

Just like he hoped, Obi-Wan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really, Anakin.”

Grinning widely, Anakin led the way to the Council chambers, a spring in his step the whole way.

End, Chapter 10

#anidala #obitine #star wars #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #satine kryze #padme amidala #late-night interruption

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thewriterowl · 3 years

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Hi! I adore your Dinluke everything and your head canons bring me constant joy! I wanted to ask you what you think of Anakin being a parent, but in a goofy way. I cannot for the life of me think of a better way to word it, but like Anakin from Naberrie Blooms is kinda what I mean! Just very goofy and sweet and overall best boy (convince me otherwise, I dare you).

I was also curious what your favourite dad Vader/Anakin personality is. And that was also worded like crap and I am sorry again. But what I mean is that, from a personal preference, not a story or narrative perspective, do you prefer Dad Vader things where he’s bad and abusive, like Hope, or Dad Vader things where yes, he doesn’t know what he’s doing at all, but he still loves and cares for Luke (Force Bonds is a good example, and if you haven’t already read/looked at it, I highly recommend you do), or maybe you prefer Dad Anakin ones where he’s very distant and taking Padmé’s death extremely hard and almost borderline neglecting his kids (I can’t think of any examples but they probably exist, right??), or maybe you’re like me and like Dad Anakin ones where he’s a good dad and is more like how he is in AOC with Obi-Wan and in The Clone Wars cartoon with Ahsoka, just with Luke and Leia?

I just really like you and look up to you and your brilliant ideas and wanna know more about some random stuff you like, but not be the weird one who’s asking about whether or not you use more flowery soap or spicey soap. But like you’re very cool and kind of intimidating and like I hope you have a great rest of your life and you never have any migraines bc they really suck.

I plan on reading Naberrie Blooms soon! I haven't yet, but I have seen some fan-art that gives me plenty of idea on how Anakin is lol

In terms of Dad!Vader I think I am a bit into the The Rod is Mightier than the Lightsaber type. But goofy Anakin dad is amazing too. But anytime to give Luke angst, I seem willing to give it to him :/ but I think it being actually Vader as the dad is something I do like lol

Aww thank you so much! I really appreciate it! I am always happy to share ideas and such! :D but I'm sorry if I come off intimidating!! (lol spicy soap)

#owl inbox

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sirloozelite · 4 years

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Hi! I have a chapter/prompt idea for you. Remember the line in the Ahsoka book that goes... “what do you even know about family?” Kaeden said. “You never had one. And you probably never had friends, either. Just clones who had to do everything you said, because you were their superior officer.” Would love to see Ahsoka and Kaeden talk about it in a prompt/chapter. It really struck a nerve in me. The Jedi and clones were Ahsoka’s family and majority of them died... :(

Hey anon, hope you didn’t mind the wait for the reply. Wanted to get it all good and everything. I took your idea and ran with it a bit. It might not be 100% what you wanted, but I hope you liked what I did do. Thanks for the prompt. Feel free to send more my way. Same goes for the rest of you. XD

1: Kaeden and Ahsoka speak about family

"Hey, I need to talk to you. It's important."

Ahsoka Tano was no expert at romance. There was a reason many of her closest friends, her girlfriend included, often referred to her as the 'Queen of being Dense'. Nine times out of ten she missed the subtle social cues that usually indicated that something was wrong, or that something shouldn't be investigated or talked about.

Of course though, Ahsoka just had to be the person who would break all of those rules! She blamed her time as an undercover spy.

That said, even she knew when something was bothering someone, and by the way Kaeden has suddenly sunk onto the couch next to her, her posture slouched in despair and her tone grim, it was something bad.

And as Kaeden Larte's girlfriend, it was Ahsoka's job to find out what the problem was!

"What's up?" Ahsoka replied as she bookmarked the page of the 'Book of Hondo', setting it aside for later, before moving closer to Kaeden, one arm wrapping round the human woman.

Kaeden didn't answer immediately, though she did raise her head from where she had been staring at the floor blankly. Her eyes, usually so bright with joy and focus, and sometimes mischievousness, instead seemed to have a dark shadow to them, as if something was haunting the gateway to her soul.

"Kaeden? Talk to me."

"I need to apologise to you."

That surprised Ahsoka! What did Kaeden possibly have to apologise for? If anything Ahsoka was the one that should be apologizing on a daily basis for all the crazy stunts she pulled.

Still, whatever Kaeden felt like she had to apologize for was clearly eating her up inside, so Ahsoka didn't hesitate to respond.

"I forgive you."

"No! I… you don't even know what I'm apologizing for!

"I know… but I already forgive you."

"Please Ahsoka… just… just let me speak."

Ahsoka didn't miss the way Kaeden had winced as Ahsoka had 'forgiven' her without blinking an eye. The thought that Kaeden thought that Ahsoka wouldn't forgive her hurt the Togruta. Did Kaeden not know how special she was to Ahsoka?

"Ok Kaeden… ok. What do you need to apologize for?"

Kaeden lowered her head for a few seconds as she contemplated how to phrase whatever was on her mind. Ahsoka didn't want to rush her, but every moment that passed was hell for the Togruta. She hated seeing anyone suffer, double so for Kaeden.

"About Raada. About what I said to you when you first revealed your Force powers. I said you didn't know what it was like to have a family. That all you had were Clones to boss around because you were their commanding officer. I was wrong to say that, and I was wrong to say you didn't know what it meant to have a family and I'm so sorry for what I said to you."

Ahsoka's eyes widened. She had honestly forgotten that Kaeden had ever said such a thing! Had she really said something that could have been taken in such a cruel way?

Memories came back to Ahsoka, one of an angry Kaeden surrounded by her friends and sister on Raada, accusing her of not helping them fight the Empire more, of not doing enough!

But even back then, Ahsoka had remembered not being angry at the words. She had understood, and in some ways she agreed. What did Ahsoka know about a true family? She had been taken from hers at three years of age after all.

"What's brought this on Kaeden?" Ahsoka asked quietly, pulling the human woman closer to her, resting her head atop Kaeden's, hoping it offered some comfort. From the way Kaeden leaned in closer as well, Ahsoka could tell it was having some sort of positive effect.

"I was speaking to Rex. I told him what I said to you and he… well he didn't take it too well to say the least."

Ahsoka didn't even realize she had frozen up until she felt Kaeden's palm gently wrap around her own, squeezing intently as a reminder that she was still there. Ahsoka couldn't help the build up of anger at herself that occurred suddenly. She was supposed to be comforting Kaeden… not the other way around!

"What did Rex say?" Ahsoka inquired, worried that her girlfriend had just inadvertently made an enemy out of her oldest and most trusted friend.

"He called me unreasonable and said I was damned lucky to have you. He said if anyone ever hurt his little sister he would kill them, then clone them just so he could kill them again. I don't think he was even kidding!"

Once more Ahsoka's eyes widened at Kaeden's recount of Rex's words. In all honesty, she wasn't that surprised about ex's reaction. The old Clone Captain was fiercely territorial and defensive when it came to people he saw as his brothers and family, and in Ahsoka's case, his little sister.

There was a time Ahsoka could recall that all of the Clones in the 501st saw her that way. Rex was always willing to teach her, to help her improve herself.

Fives was always willing to joke around with her. He had taught her how not to succumb to the pressures of command.

Echo had taught her how to be patient, how to follow procedure when it mattered most. Losing him at the Citadel had been a major blow for them all.

Kix and Coric had taught her how to save people in more ways than one. It didn't matter that they weren't always out fighting, as they fought the most dangerous and formidable foe in existence on a daily basis and won. Combating death was one hell of a task after all.

It wasn't just the boys in the 501st that had taught her either. Both Cody and Wolffe had given her new perspective on things. Through their teachings and encouragement, she had learned how to adapt on the fly, how to improvise, and most importantly, how to get the job done.

And then there were the rest. Hardcase had taught her to be bold. Waxer and Boil had taught her the importance of companionship. Dogma had taught her to have faith and not lose it.

And Jesse had taught her how to be cautious. It was not the lesson she wished she had learnt from him, but it was the most important one of her life, one she had carried with her as Fulcrum. When Order 66 had been issued, and Jesse turned on her and Rex, Ahsoka had no choice but to act.

There were nights where she still saw the Arc Trooper in her dreams, impaled on a burning green blade, mere seconds away from murdering Rex in cold blood. She did not regret her actions, but she wished how they had been different.

If only things had been different.

"He was right of course. The Clones, despite being your subordinates, were your family. Rex told me about them all. About Fives and Echo, Jesse and Hardcase. Hell he even introduced me to Kix. And then there's the Jedi too!"

Ahsoka listened as Kaeden continued on, recalling more and more of her discussion with Rex, which sounded like had gotten more civil after the old Clone's initial hostility.

"And then Rex told me about the Jedi he knew, about the one's he knew had a strong bond with you. I'm sorry about Master Plo Koon, Ahsoka. I wish I could have met him. He sounded wonderful."

"He really was." Ahsoka couldn't help but reply, her fond memories of the Kel Dor coming to her mind. How she wished he was still here.

"He also told me about Anakin. And Senator Amidala too."

Ahsoka tried not to stiffen at the mention of her former Jedi Master. Even now he was a sore spot, for both her and Rex. How Obi-Wan was able to forgive and forget was unknown to her. She really wished she had his patience and understanding sometimes.

But then she hadn't been there at the end, and Obi-Wan had. Perhaps he knew something she didn't.

"I know you hate him Ahsoka, and no one blames you for it, but from what Rex told me he was like your father figure in many ways. I can't imagine what it was like to have to kill him."

It had been hard at the time…. but like with Jesse it had been necessary. Ahsoka had had to make a difficult decision with the information she had… just as Anakin had taught her too as a Padawan.

And Padmé? Padmé had taught her to trust in her actions, and to know right from wrong.

Ahsoka really hoped that the Senator would be proud of her if she was still alive.

"So I'm sorry. I was wrong to say you didn't know what it was like to have a family, because you did have one. It was just very different from mine." Kaeden finished, squeezing Ahsoka's hand again whilst waiting for the Togruta's response.

Wasting no time and already knowing how she was going to respond, Ahsoka brought her free hand up to Kaeden's cheek, gently pulling the woman's face towards her before placing a gentle kiss to her lips.

Pulling back, Ahsoka rested her forehead on Kaeden's and spoke.

"As I said, you are already forgiven, forever and always. My family may have been different from yours, but back then you had every right to say what you did. I may have lost that family, but now I have a new one in you."

The way Kaeden's face lit up with a small smile was all the response Ahsoka needed. If Kaeden was happy, so was she.

"I…. ok… thanks Ahsoka. I feel like I understand you better now thanks to Rex. I wish I could have met all of your old family."

"Me too Kaeden. Me too." Ahsoka replied, banishing any thoughts of the fate of her old family from her mind. It would not do her well to dwell on the past. Right now all she wanted to focus on was the present.

And that present was Kaeden Larte.

#The One-Shot Saga #ahsoka tano #kaeden larte #kaesoka

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clairen45 · 5 years

Text

About that Dark Visions comic...

I think it’s fair to say that when Marvel’s Dark Visions miniseries about Vader as seen from a different perspective was announced, everybody was excited. We have been hammered on the head since ROTS that “there are heroes on both sides” , and with the expectations concerning the end of the saga as a massive redemption and hope plot, you were bound to be curious about what they would come up with. TBH, I was not expecting to see a softer side to Vader. It would be wrong to expect anything like that, and it would somehow diminish from what happens to him in the OT. He is supposed to be more machine than man. So, no, I definitely did not expect him, or wished him to be the kind of guy operating as the Death Star Secret Santa, knitting socks for the poor and needy, or rescuing people’s pets. It was not my understanding that he was much loved by his Imperial “colleagues” either. When we first see him in ANH; he is derided and dismissed both by a colleague (sorry, forgot the name but you all know whose faithless person I am thinking of) and Leia. Respected for sure, because of the fear he instills in people. So if awe is obviously the right word to use, in the most etymological sense of the term, that is to say “ a feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder”, how many people found Vader awesome? Besides the audience. There had to be. And as a concept, it was pretty cool.

That being said, if you think of the title for the series, there were already many ways of interpreting it. Dark Visions... Visions of the power of the Dark Side? The way some people saw Vader? The way Vader thought people saw him? Did the stories happen for real or are they just what the title imply they are: visions. Images. Fantasies. Daydreams or nightmares? Possibly just the imagination of some deranged mind. There is something there that implies that we are not dealing with something too objective. But rather something unhinged and disturbing.

Now, I intend to keep this in mind about the issue that has been raising so much concern: “Tall, Dark, and Handsome”. I think malaise is really the word we should settle for. This issue is problematic in many ways.

For those who haven’t read it or just heard about it through social media and people complaining about it (possibly people on the other side of the spectrum fanning about it), this is how you can sum it up: this is the first person narrative of an unnamed nurse, working on the Death Star for Vader’s personal doctor. The nurse has developed an obsessive infatuation for Vader that has her snoop around him and collect bits and pieces about him (mostly gorish remains of his time at the medical bay) that she hides in her room. She keeps on daydreaming about him and the connection she thinks they have, until one day she musters up her courage and goes to talk to him in his private quarters in order to let him know of her love for him. He cuts her off in all the meanings of the word, both interrupting her speech of eternal devotion and undying love, and piercing her through with his saber. Last moment we see her is lying dead on the floor while he moves away and asking for the sanitation to rid him of the “garbage”.

Ok, that’s a tall order. Here are points that I find entirely problematic.

1.The Question of Agency:

The authors decided to give a voice, a narrative agency to a character that is presented as inconsequential to the story. She is an anonymous nurse, a dot, in the bigger picture of the Empire. Much, let’s say, like our current ST heroes: Rey, Finn, and Rose, who started as “nobody”, even more so in the case of Finn and Rey who have literally been deprived of their identities. You could think it’s cool to thus give a voice to this nurse. Even more so when you consider that throughout the comic, she is presented as downtrodden, poor, pushed over, abused physically and verbally, dismissed, and despised. Her employer disrespects her constantly, calling her “fool”, “idiot”, or “stupid”. He shoves her around, and also diminishes her job, calling it “not a real job” or insinuating that she does not do her job correctly. Cases in point:

And what do we get in this story? A female nobody who starts asserting herself. Wow.

She tells her own story. First person narrative. She becomes an agent.

Look at the evolution of her daydream fantasies. She starts from damsel in distress who needs a man to protect her from her daily abuser

From nurse whose job means something, to a solid professional, and equal partner to her fantasy Lord:

And finally a powerful woman in her own rights, even overshadowing her partner, and who is able to defend herself.

Which then matures into her mustering up the courage to speak for herself, and tell her feelings to the (unwilling) object of her affection.

Except that.... well...she is just presented as a massive psycho. And, ok, it’s fair, we all know that there are female stalkers, and that her obsession for Vader is totally crazy because she doesn’t know anything about him, and she actually fell for someone who was treating her as poorly as the others. But there is the malaise there... The mix of female empowerment and batshit craziness. That’s what put a lot of people ill-at-ease. I wouldn’t even call that subversion, because, dudes, what are we subverting there exactly. It’s not like women are not daily abused and treated poorly at work and in their relationships on a daily basis... And are we supposed to take that as a cautionary tale about fangirl craziness? Because, there again, why did they need to have that girl get such a shitty treatment all through the comic. It is like the comic says that she deserved it. In the end it’s not just Vader calling her trash. It’s also the doctor calling her trash for most of the comic, and even have her literally waddle in a trash compactor. Cause this was supposed to be subtle?

Like, fine, if it were only Vader calling her garbage because the man is just dead inside, which, fairly, is represented in the comic. But it’s just not Vader, it is the way the character is presented through the eyes of the doctor AND even through the eyes of a cartoonist who keeps on representing her with the stupidest darned faces.

And there is no other viewpoint. Family, friends, other nurses or colleagues who could give us another idea about her. Or explain why she is like that. Nope. Basically, this woman is given a voice just so she can be cut off mid-sentence and made... fun of... I guess? Was that the author’s goal? Is it what we are supposed to feel? About this pathetic character and her pathetic life, dreams, goals, feelings, and eventual demise?

The “Subversion” of Female Romantic Tropes

Like ... LOL... How is that “subverted” anyways? But, ok, let’s go through them. It has all the classic elements of female literature.

The Cinderella story: nobody falls for high lord and expects to be swooped off her feet. Complete with ball scene, because, yes, why not? I give them a point, though, for the cool reflection on the ground which has her in her regular scrubs... BTW, Beauty and the Beast in the mix as well.

the nurse complex! Otherwise known as the Florence Nightingale effect. You know, woman is going to take care of the guy... They even made her a real nurse! Again, so subtle. Couldn’t make her any other profession and still be victim of this complex.

the reference to so-called “trashy” female lit, think bodice ripping, Harlequin, and their infamous covers. Even the title of the comic: “Tall, Dark, and Handsome”

The effing Phantom of the Opera!

and of course all the female discourse about love, because, yep, trashy: “kindred spirits” etc...

And again, how are we supposed to interpret it? Well, hang on, this woman, remember, is a bat-shit crazy deluded psycho, who has delusions about life and love. Oh, and the doctor says she is trash. And he throws all her stupid gory, disgusting trickets in the trash. Oh and also Vader says she is garbage. Well. Ok. So, I guess all of that which mattered to her, all her ideas, all that she loved, was just that. Trash. Garbage. Well, take that, you female reader!

But wait, it gets even better...

Star Wars is just trash!

Yep, because on closer look, most of the fantasies this woman has are very Star-Warsy. I am floored that they are actually trashing these:

Anakin and Padmé’s Naboo scenery, green, lush, terrace, nightgowns...

The scene when Anakin learns about Padmé’s death:

and of course, the one that you were not expecting... Reylo... “You are not alone”

Again, why is this problematic? In itself, it is fine and fair to be making fun of trashy female literature and campy romance novels, it is also fine to make fun of crazy stalkers, and it is also fine to be making fun of Star Wars. So why does it feel so icky in this comic somehow?

You can’t help but feel disgusted when you consider how poorly this woman is represented. There is not one aspect of her life that is not ridiculed. And again, this is about a woman who has NOTHING. They could have the girl fall in love with Vader and being killed by him because he is a cold-hearted machine. He killed his wife, the love of his life, so yea, of course he will feel not a pang of remorse or hesitation at killing this nobody who thinks she is in love with him. But they did not need to make fun of the very little she had in her life: her dreams. Her effing dreams. Plus the crazy stalker psycho. And the crazy face. And the fact that again we are talking about a woman, who had NOTHING. No family, no connection, no friends, no respect at work, not many possessions except her sad little Vader treasure chest.

And again, context. Here we are, reading a Star Wars comic where a lot of fanboys have been using the EXACT same terms to ridicule women in the fandom. Especially in the Reylo context. Trash. Garbage. Crazy bitches. Ridiculing theories about ... well, well, ain’t it a sweet surprise... Phantom of the Opera, or Beauty and the Beast parallels with Reylo. I’ll be damned. It feels crazy awkward, if you ask me. I mean, again, it’s all fair, but you don’t do that when you are in the midst of a toxic fandom war.

So why do I give zero F... about it in the end?

If some antis in the fandom saw that as validation, well, let them have their moment of happiness. It won’t last. We can give them that.

One, I don’t think for one second that it means anything about what will happen in the ST as far as Reylo is concerned. Again, they are even making fun of Anidala in the comic, and dude, that thing happened. As my good friends from @lordsofthesithpodcast would tell you after their glorious SWCC panel : Romance, these ships belong in Star Wars.

Two, as I highlighted in the introduction, this belongs in the Dark Visions series. It is meant, in my own opinion, to be disturbing and unhinged. Not sugar coated. So maybe the whole point was shock value. Mission accomplished. It was poor taste again given the context and the awful treatment THEY (and not just Vader) give their female character, but yea, dark visions. Not Star Wars Adventures. You have to look at the target audience and everything.

Three, if it were not for the in-your-face references to female tropes, I actually took most of it as a critique of fandom in general. The problem is not that she is a fangirl. There are some crazy obsessive fangirls, mind you. The problem is that they are making fun of all things female on top of that. But, remove the romantic aspects. Couldn’t that apply to fanboys as well? I could totally picture a cadet, or some other young imperial, developing the same crazed obsession over Vader. And it was just as toxic. And, tbh, it could very well be. Collecting trinkets is not just a girl thing, and after seeing with my own eyes the tons of merch purchased by fanboys at the recent SWCC convention, or the obsessive way some guy could talk to you about Vader and the minute trivial details in his life, or that they are the only ones understanding the guy, well yea... it works...

I’ll even go a step further. I wondered for a sec if the whole thing was not even a critical meta about the franchise as a whole. Let me explain. Some fanboys have complained about the femininization of the franchise, that is “polluting” the shades of Pemberley, I mean Star Wars. Claiming that what is happening right now is utter garbage. Also also, I have another possible reading which has the nurse representing the current state of the fandom and how crazy obsessed they can be over a franchise that some currently view as tired and dead inside (especially since it has fallen into the fold of Disney). Representing the unhealthy relationship between the two. And guess what, it doesn’t end well for the fandom. Who will never get what they want.

I will finally quote this from Chuck Wendig who was fired from the project and came up with that particular comment on Twitter, and which actually seems to go with how I tried to read it myself:

Apropos of absolutely nothing, my issue three of SHADOW OF VADER was about a toxic fanboy (a morgue attendant on the Death Star) who became obsessed with Vader. (And it didn’t end well for him. Er, obviously.) I thought it was good and I’m sorry you won’t see it! Onward we go.

I think they kept some of the original idea from Wendig, but it took a turn for the worse. It would be great if the authors cared to explain about their intent for this piece if any. I am not saying they should. I actually totally respect and support full freedom of speech and authorial choices. It is our choice, then, as a reader to read or not the material we don’t care about. I am just curious to know their opinion I guess, and I was not able to find any comment online. If anyone has a reference, I am interested...

In any event, I think everyone should read the comic for themselves if they are curious about it. Better to make your own opinion about it.

#reylo fandom #star wars comics #dark visions #darth vader dark visions #tall dark and handsome

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