The Force was a swirling vortex around Anakin, a familiar symphony he’d known his entire life on Mortis. Here, amidst the sterile corridors of the Jedi Temple, it felt… muted, almost stifled. And these new, unfamiliar sensations blooming within him were a discordant note in that symphony.
“So, you… like Senator Amidala?” Obi-Wan asked, his tone carefully neutral. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a telltale sign of his growing headache. Across the table, Anakin sat stiffly, his youthful face a mask of earnest confusion. Ahsoka, perched on a nearby crate, watched the unfolding scene with unconcealed glee.
Anakin frowned. “I don’t know. I feel… things. When she talks about Alderaan’s agricultural policies, I feel things. When she smiles, I feel things. Is… is that love?”
Obi-Wan choked back a sigh. “Anakin, love is… complex. It’s not just… feeling things.”
“But I feel them a lot,” Anakin insisted, his brow furrowed. “Like when the Father would amplify the Force during meditations. Except… different. More… sparkly.”
Ahsoka snorted. “Sparkly? Is that how you describe it?”
Anakin glared at her. “It’s the closest thing I can compare it to! I haven’t experienced… feelingsbefore. The Father didn’t exactly teach me about romance.”
Obi-Wan winced. He should have seen this coming. Exposing a force sensitive, raised in complete isolation, to the wider galaxy was bound to have… complications. “Anakin, the Jedi Order… discourages attachments. Romantic love can lead to… the dark side.”
Anakin’s eyes widened. “But you like the Duchess Satine, right? Doesn’t that mean you’re close to the dark side?”
Obi-Wan sputtered. “Satine and I… we have a deep respect for each other. A… a strong friendship. It’s nothing more than that.”
Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Every time we’re on Mandalore, you spend half your time staring at her like she’s a bantha steak, and the other half arguing about whether or not pacifism is a viable political strategy. It’s exhausting to watch.”
Anakin leaned forward, his expression one of intense curiosity. “So that’s what love looks like? Arguing?”
“Sometimes,” Ahsoka chirped. "And awkward lingering glances. Oh! And the time I caught Obi-Wan staring at a holo of her for like, an hour straight, muttering about how 'complicated' things were."
Obi-Wan groaned, burying his face in his hands. “This is not helping, Ahsoka.”
“Oh, I think it is,” she said innocently. “Anakin needs to learn about relationships somehow. It's not like he can walk to the local bar. Although, the looks on the patron’s faces would be priceless..."
Anakin, oblivious to the growing tension between his master and his padawan, turned back to Obi-Wan, his eyes filled with genuine confusion. “But if love is so dangerous, why would you risk it? Why would you let yourself… like the Duchess?”
Obi-Wan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew this conversation was hopeless. The Jedi Code was ingrained in him, a constant battle against the natural human desire for connection. But how could he explain that to someone with no context, no understanding of societal norms?
“It… it’s complicated, Anakin. Satine and I… we explored our feelings. But we decided it wasn’t the right path for us. It wouldn’t work.”
“Why not?” Anakin persisted. “Because of the Jedi Code?”
“Partly,” Obi-Wan admitted. “And… other reasons.”
Ahsoka piped up again. “Like the fact that you’re both stubborn and refuse to admit you’re completely head over heels for each other and are too afraid to ruin your friendship? Yeah, those reasons.”
Obi-Wan glared at her. “Did you have to say that aloud?”
“What? Its true!” Ahsoka shrugged. “Besides, the clones and I had a whole betting pool going on when you were on Mandalore. It was either 'when Obi-Wan finally snaps and kisses her' or 'Satine decks him one for being so dense'. Good times."
Obi-Wan sat up completely straight, his face slowly turning red. “You were betting on my personal life?!”
Ahsoka shrugged again. “We were bored. Besides, it’s not like anything happened. I think Rex still owes me credits."
Obi-Wan threw his hands up in exasperation. "This is going nowhere. Anakin, have you learned anything from this... disaster?"
Anakin blinked, processing everything. “Does that mean you… don’t want to be happy?”
Obi-Wan slammed his head lightly on the table. Defeated.
Ahsoka, sensing the need for a change of pace, clapped her hands together. “Okay, forget about Obi-Wan and his… situation. Let’s try a different approach. Anakin, have you ever seen a holo-drama? A… rom-com?”
Anakin shook his head, bewildered.
“Perfect!” Ahsoka grinned, pulling a datapad from her belt. “I know just the thing.”
What followed was hours of Anakin being subjected to the cheesiest, most formulaic rom-coms Ahsoka could find. Tales of star-crossed lovers, mistaken identities, and grand gestures of affection filled the room. Obi-Wan, nursing a cup of tea, watched with growing horror as Anakin’s eyes widened with each predictable plot twist.
“So,” Anakin said, as the credits rolled on the third holo-drama. “If I want Padme to like me, I need to… pretend to be someone else? Or… bake her a cake and then accidentally spill it on her?”
Obi-Wan groaned. “No, Anakin! Absolutely not! Those are… exaggerations. Love is about being genuine, being yourself.”
Ahsoka snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that, Obi-Wan. Being yourself for Anakin probably involves levitating Padme’s furniture and building her a sentient droid made of spare parts.”
Ignoring Ahsoka, Obi-Wan made one last desperate attempt. “Anakin, love is about respect, trust, and understanding. It’s about supporting someone, being there for them, through thick and thin.”
Anakin nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “So… I should protect her?”
“Well, yes, of course,” Obi-Wan said, relieved. “That’s a good start.” (He really should have known better)
The next day, Ahsoka burst into the Jedi Temple briefing room, a wide grin on her face. “You are NOT going to believe this!”
Obi-Wan, already braced for the worst, raised a weary eyebrow.
“Anakin just volunteered to be Senator Amidala’s personal Jedi protector! She looked completely confused, but she said yes!” Ahsoka cackled, nearly falling off her feet. “He’s spending the next few weeks with her! This is going to be epic!”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, picturing the chaos that was about to unfold. He regretted Mortis. He regretted everything.
For the next few weeks, Anakin was a constant presence in Padme’s life, a walking, talking caricature of every romantic trope he’d absorbed from Ahsoka’s holo-dramas. He left cryptic notes on her desk, composed terrible poetry, and attempted to serenade her with a tuneless rendition of a Mandalorian folk song. Padme, ever gracious and patient, tried her best to navigate the situation, but it was clear she was growing increasingly bewildered.
One evening, Obi-Wan received a frantic comm from Padme. Her voice was tight with suppressed laughter and a hint of desperation.
“Obi-Wan, forgive me for bothering you, but… Anakin is… well, he’s being… peculiar.”
“Peculiar how?” Obi-Wan asked, already dreading the answer.
“He keeps… leaving me gifts. Strange gifts. Like a collection of rare Nabooian swamp fungi, and a half-finished sculpture of a gungan. And this morning, I woke up to find him cleaning my boots with his lightsaber.”
Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m so sorry, Padme. I’ll… I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” Padme said, her voice laced with amusement. “I appreciate it. And… perhaps you could also explain to him that Jedi protectors are not required to recite love sonnets while guarding the Senate floor?”
Obi-Wan ended the call, rubbing his temples. This was a disaster. He needed to intervene before Anakin completely alienated Padme, or worse, gave the younger Padawans any… ideas.
He found Anakin in the Jedi Temple training room, attempting to levitate a training droid while simultaneously reciting a particularly atrocious poem about Padme’s eyes.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said sternly. “We need to talk.”
Anakin turned, his face beaming. “Master Obi-Wan! I’m so close to perfecting my romantic strategy! Padme hasn’t said she doesn’t like me, so that must mean it’s working!”
