#obiwanxreader

“They didn’t specify, exactly. Master Yoda said we would know when we found it.”

“Well, that’s characteristically vague,” you muttered.

Your feet led you both in different directions as you surveyed the structure and admired the leery beauty of crippled history. There was something left behind here, something serene and melancholic that tugged at your soul – your perceived skill of Sense Echo was keenly tuned into this place. You heard conversations, lessons, and music; just bits and fragments of things that had taken place. It felt similar to your home in the Jedi temple. There were forgotten memories of many childhoods lingering around you.

In one large opening that appeared to have once been a great hall of some sort, you could sense a resonant touch of calm indifference. There was no violence, no anger, not a single trace of malice – and yet, the end of their echoes was abrupt, as if they had been wiped from the surface.

The place had been abandoned, so it seemed.

However, no matter how much you felt around you, you were careful not to attach yourself to the emotions of your findings. This had all happened decades ago, perhaps even centuries. Whatever had happened here was over and done with.

“Sense anything yet?” Obi-Wan asked. His eyes landed on your somber silhouette as you carried yourself carefully through the rubble, gently placing your fingers upon the cracked stones and overgrown foliation.

“This was once a place of peace and celebration filled with many people, a good portion of them children,” your eyes considered the collapsing temple around you and the great room you both stood in, and Obi-Wan saw as your turned abruptly as if watching someone run past you, “But something drew them away from here. I can sense their numbers and hear their instruments, their lessons. I can see their valuables; red satin pillows, tassled table cloths, a long table full of spices and warm broth,”

“There is great peace here, great wisdom…it almost feels like home, back in the Jedi temple with the younglings. But then everything goes blank. I can’t tell who they were or what their purpose was. It may have been a civil dispute between tribes or an assault that drove them away, but I sense no violence or anger. It’s sort of faded out like a patchy signal.”

“Maybe they were Jedi,” he remarked. There was a subtle smile tugging at his lips as he caught your gaze. He was always astounded by your gift of psychometry and knew just how valuable the knowledge you derived from it was.

“Or simple nomads,” you offered, “I think I would be able to tell if they were Jedi. Surely there would be something left we could recognize, something stronger that I could sense.”

“I’ll go this way and see if I can find anything. Have your comlink ready,” Obi-Wan called over. He clicked his handheld device on and waited as you did the same. You turned the small dial with him to match their frequencies. When they chirped in unison, he turned to scout elsewhere with a nod.

You continued your observation as you made your way to the front of the great hall where a crumbling set of steps led up to a small podium of sorts – it was hard to tell from what was left, but it appeared to be a stage or a platform. Kneeling down to feel the cool stone, you noticed the etched carvings inflicted by chisels. They were markings of another language, delicate shapes and phonics weaving a prayer you did not recognize.

Standing upright and dusting your hands against your tucked trousers, you glanced in the direction Obi-Wan had headed off to before turning yourself about to explore the opposite corridor. When you crossed the edge of the western halls, you were met with a wall of dense jungle. Nothing remained of the old temple, save a declining slope of stones that were once tall-reaching walls.

The buzzing of insects and the croaking of frogs just beyond the darkening expanse of foliage added to the soothing charm of this old abandoned place. It felt like a moment memorialized in time, shrouded in memory and happenstance no one would ever know about. Even with your ability to glimpse the past through echoes, there was nothing here to draw from.

And this was yet another possibility of your gift – the finding of something there and nothing here. Of course, it was impossible to see everything. You were always left wondering and craving a little more, which was one thing many psychometric force users struggled with. Balance was absolutely necessary to be able to let go of unattainable knowledge. You felt the disappointment tug at your heart.

Something about this place felt like it knew you, as though what was left of this crumbling little world was staring right back at you. Some small part of you felt as though you had a right to know its well-kept secrets. It was just a sensation you had to put far from your mind. You would learn whatever was meant for your mind to know, however much or little that may be.

Just as you finished your sweep of the area, Obi-Wan’s voice crackled through your comlink. “I think I found something worth looking into,” his tone was a mix of amused relief.

“What is it?”

“It appears to be a meditation room from what I can tell. The floor’s collapsed, so our path is blocked, but I can make out the meditation stones – the flat ones, similar to those in the temple gardens in Coruscant - and what looks like some cargo they may have left behind.”

“Has it been there long?”

“It’s not new, if that’s what you’re asking,” he sassed. You could hear his smirk from the other end of the transmission. It pulled your lips into a smile.

“Alright, I’m on my way,” you decided, turning yourself about to trace his steps into the eastern corridors. There was a pause in your conversation as you trekked across the crumbled great hall and neared the path Obi-Wan had found himself on. You suspected he was attempting to find a way across in his silence.

The echo of his voice in real-time that reverberated in the still air accompanied his voice through your comlink, which meant you were drawing nearer to him with every step. “Did you find anything?”

“Nothing but old rocks and a lot of jungle. I did find some carvings in the main hall we came from, but that was it.”

Obi-Wan turned to face you as he heard your voice close enough behind him to switch his comlink off. He stood on the ledge of what was left of the ground floor. Standing beside him, you could see clearly the damage that the eastern wing of the temple had taken on with age. It had held together a little better than your end had, but it was greatly broken-down.

There were four tall walls that had crumbled slightly in each middle portion, dipping lower into themselves. The ground floor – the one you needed to reach the other room – had fallen in on itself and gave way to the room a dozen or more feet beneath it, which appeared to be the only underground shelter. You hadn’t noticed any other access points to a lower floor. Peering over the edge, you decided it was too far down to make a comfortable landing, nor was there any reason to. The walls on the other side were too tall to climb up on your own.

The wide gap between rooms was one you couldn’t make without help, despite both of your abilities as Jedi. Nearer to the assumed meditation room was a dilapidated stone staircase that had dissolved back into the ground with a coating of slippery moss. Unless you wanted to chance the durability of crumbling stone paired with little grip on your soles, you opted to avoid that option.

“Any ideas?” Obi-Wan asked. He crossed his arms and stroked his young beard with his hand, a habit you had seen repeated throughout his life. You couldn’t suppress the admiring grin that grew across your features before you looked away to conceal your blush. He was adorable.

You purposefully focused your mind on answering his question and found yourself calculating the distance of the walls to your sides. As if reading your thoughts, Obi-Wan intervened.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t trust these walls to hold our weight.”

You huffed with an agreeing nod. Scaling them wasn’t an option either. With your hands on your hips, you walked behind him and to his left, pacing slightly as you studied your surroundings a second time.

Above you towered a canopy of thick trees, you noticed, which were knotted with thick vines and winding branches. Obi-Wan’s eyes were still trained on the drop below, wondering if it was possible to withstand the drop and possible cave-in. Getting across on a sturdier surface would be optimal, but then there was the steep wall to climb.

The igniting of your saber drew his attention to you immediately, drawing his hand away from his chin. He stood motionless as he watched you pull your arm back and twirl your blade in your hand, straining your eyes to focus in on something above you. When he followed your line of sight and found the tangled patchwork of vines suspended high above the both of you, he realized you were taking aim.

Before he could stutter out an inquiry, you thrust your saber upward as though it were a metal dagger, slicing through the canopy of vegetation and loosing its green limbs to sway within reach above your heads. He watched even still as you slowly pulled your arm back to call the saber back into your hand, balancing its momentum. When the hilt landed perfectly in your outstretched palm, the blade extinguished.

With one boot forward, you reached over the edge far enough to latch your fingers around one of the slippery vines and wound it around your wrist. You tugged on it with your full weight and found that it had decent buoyancy to it. When you turned to face Obi-Wan, you found his expression slowly change from shocked to impressed. It stroked the ego you weren’t supposed to have.

“There, problem solved,” you remarked.

His eyes trailed up to one of several vines that now hung from the trees. He shook his head slightly, lowering his arms to his sides. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”

You simply chuckled in response and took several steps back with the thick vine in tow. Hiking your leg up to grip the vine with your boot, you jumped in place a few times to build your momentum. Without so much as a ‘see you on the other side’ you propelled yourself forward and swung across the wide gap, landing gracefully on the edge of the other room. Obi-Wan’s eyes had followed you the whole way.

Releasing the vine, you found that it left behind a yellow slime between your fingers. Wiping the residue against your robes, you called across the expanse to Obi-Wan. “Be careful of the vines! They’re coated with slime! It’s a little slippery!”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” he retorted, already having a generous portion of the unsavory gel lathered across his hands from testing one of the vines. You watched as he pulled on it with his full weight – not the same one you had used, evidently – and it slipped through the branches and fell to the room below. You tucked in your smile to hide the amusement you felt.

Averting your gaze before your laughter gave you away, you turned your back to him and began investigating the flat stones a few feet behind you. You were still wiping away the slime that coated the palms of your hands.

Finally, after two failed attempts, he had found one that was still wound up tight in the canopy of vegetation above him. He wound it around his wrist and once around his calf after stepping back. When pushed himself over the edge, he felt the vine slip every-so-slightly and released an uncertain cry from his lips.

Just as you turned around to see the commotion, a flash of beige filled your vision before you felt his body collide with yours. The impact flattened you both against the cracked stone floor in a groaning heap of tangled robes and discomfort. When you raised your head, you found that the mass on top of you bore a familiar face.

He groaned as he raised his head, blinking away the whiplash that rattled his skull. "I am not doing that again," he asserted.

“Trying to get a little close today, are we, Obi?” you jested, ruffling the light auburn tendrils that had tickled your neck when he raised his head. His narrowing eyes told you never to speak of this moment in front of his young padawan – or anyone else, for that matter.

“The vines were far less secure than you made it look.”

He slowly peeled himself off of you, careful not to place his hands anywhere inappropriate. When he stood to his full height, he stretched out his hand. You took it eagerly and allowed him to pull you up.

“You should have used the same one I did!”

“You didn’t give me a chance to catch it before throwing it back! I lost track of it!”

“Just admit it, Obi, it was all a ruse.”

“To bruise myself? I don’t think so, I’d much rather return to the ship in one piece.”

“You just can’t stand being apart from me, that’s all,” you chuckled, finding amusement in his reddening cheeks. When he visibly fought the blushing smile that tempted his lips, you knew you weren’t too far from the truth.

No, of course he hadn’t meant to pick the wrong vine and send himself bumbling into you, but it was obvious neither of you minded the close proximity all that much.

“Let’s get back on task, shall we?”

“Of course,” you purposefully bumped shoulders with him as you turned about the room, “if only my partner would stop flirting with me long enough to get something accomplished.”

Your meal from the cantina had long worn off and the hollow gnawing of hunger had resumed its bothersome sensation. You had nibbled on a few morsels of your food pellets but left the rest to rations. The canteen of water was still reasonably filled, but the vast sea of sand looming ahead of you was worrisome; half a canteen wouldn't last you several days in the desert.

Unexpectedly, the wind had picked up as it dragged itself across the desert. Every so often, you felt flecks of sand sprinkle against your face. It wasn't much unlike the sensation felt by water when splashed against you, but it was far more unpleasant – it was dry and almost sharp. You noticed now that it was not only the wind that had adjusted itself but also the temperature.

As the suns disappeared under the flat line of lifeless earth, the heat disappeared with them. Prickles of chilling cold spread across your skin in a frilled sensation of shivers. Pulling the hood of your cloak over your head, you glanced around, training every sense available to you in search of unwanted company. You had to admit it, there was a portion of uneasiness that swam through your nerves. You doubted you still had the energy left to withstand an ambush from savages.

You could see now, in the growing accumulation of inconveniences, that you hadn't been completely prepared for this journey. However, as the still waves of sand came nearer by the minute, you assumed that was the intention all along.

You had heard of stories in your training years ago that there were some tests that even the most Force-sensitive Jedi could not prepare themselves for. This, you believed, was yours.

Not just the journey to the Dune Sea or even the arrival to such a desolate planet of problematic inhabitants, but it was the entirety of this traumatic shift that had taken place in such very little time that unsettled you most. You hadn't seen any of this coming.

Not the betrayal of the clones you had considered comrades, the executions that followed, nor especially the death of Astra. The chance that Obi-Wan and Anakin could be dead as well – it still didn't compute properly in your mind. It couldn't be true. 

And if it were, why had the Force chosen you to survive?

Your thoughts fell darker once again as your tiredness wore heavily on you. That same grave sense of grief you had tried to control in the cockpit of your ship was finally breaking through your barrier of strength. The pain trickled in until it became a vast body of raging water, touching every thought, engaging every emotion. It felt like you were drowning - and every breath you managed to take lapped in more water than air.

Astra.

You didn't even notice the flow of tears as they trickled down your dirtied cheeks and dropped onto the dry ground. You tugged at the sleeves of your tunic and pulled them as far over your hands as you could to ward off the increasing chill of the night. The tips of your fingers left a chilled imprint against your palm as you folded them into a fist.

The sky was nearly black now, with flecks of glimmering lights sprinkled above you. As you strained your eyes to find a path amongst them, your blurred vision offered little guidance as you sniffled through your silent weeping. Three moons hung above the atmosphere, their distances slightly altered from each other. Had you been able to concentrate, you would have marveled at them, but instead, the exhaustion in your body poured into every facet of your consciousness.

As a Jedi, you had never been so freely expressive of your emotions, especially not grief. This weakness, as you saw it, was stemming from your exhaustion – from the trauma that had been imprinted on you. Every ounce of your strength had been waned by your efforts to protect your padawan, by the failure that followed, and the stretch of sleepless days that had been worsened by the ever-growing burden of malevolence in the Force itself as it flowed through you.

You were stuck in a rabid cycle of very few thoughts, but they were each of them heavy. You were depleted of yourself and yet overwhelmed with memories and fading hopes.

Obi-Wan.

A deep thrust of aching sickness twisted in your stomach, pulling the pulse of your heart with it.

His laughter echoed through your mind, followed by decades of precious moments that fluttered across your memories. You had been fond of him since before you had become padawans, in the days you had grown up in the same clan together among other younglings. But you had loved him since you had been able to comprehend the feeling.

Imagining life in his absence – it was a shocking concept that made your head spin as every minute wore on. Such an outcome didn't seem so far from reality anymore, and it was appalling. 

You had never been ignorant to the risk that was the reality of all Jedi, that every mission taken could result in his death, but you had always had a reign on your worries. You trusted that he would come back, that his journey would not mirror his master's.

You had been a fool to harbor such sentiment all your life, but it had never interfered to this degree before. It had never resulted in a strong pull into the vast wilderness of emotion. Then again, you had never before experienced the turmoil that you had in the last few days, and the weight of deepened with every minute.

You sucked in a laboring breath as you took your first steps into the rising dunes of the desert sea. Beneath your feet, the dry ground shifted slowly into soft sand, forcing you to engage the wearied muscles in your legs. The store of tears in your body had yet to dry, leaving an effortless track of flowing residue down your cheeks. You brushed against them with the back of your hand and rubbed the fatigue from your dampened eyes. The sigh that fell from your lips quivered as it left your lungs.

The half-moons hardly provided enough light to make out the expanse of your surroundings. Heavy shadows fell from behind the dunes that surrounded you, driving much of the light from the area. You pressed on blindly, clutching your satchel with your free hand. The only sound to be heard, apart from your footfalls, was the brush of cold air against the dunes. Grains of sand skidded over your boots as it glided on tufts of low air currents, pulling your eyes to your feet.

It was just light enough to see the darker shades of filth that covered them.

And the same flecks of blood you had noticed in the cockpit of your ship.

A mane of auburn hair and pale skin flashed across your memories, contorting your solemn expression into one of pain. The deep crimson liquid that had spilled from her body, some of it cauterized and some it fresh, filled your thoughts as you recalled the moments preceding her death. It had been so brutal; so unnecessarily inhumane.

I failed her. I didn't prepare her for this.

You remembered the texture of her hair that you had pushed from her face, revealing her unmoving warm eyes. She had stared so blankly into nothingness. It was nothing like her eyes that had so often drunk in every detail of every planet, every creature, and everything she ever took interest in. You remembered the shouting as they closed in on you while you knelt over her motionless frame; you had been forced to run, forced to leave her body behind in an unfamiliar world.

I abandoned her.

Your eyebrows drew together as a sob escaped your lips. Covering your mouth with a shaking hand, you felt your legs give way beneath you to the weight of your body. Your knees hit the sand with a heavy thump. The sand was coarse as you dug your fingers into the earth, desperately searching for something that would ground you. When you inspected the substance in your clutched hands, it sifted through the spaces between your fingers.

You leaned back on your calves, watching your tears darken the ground beneath you.

I'm a failure to the Order.

A gravelly scream tore across the desert plain, disrupting the still silence with an almost violent effect. You jerked your gaze to the left, studying the shallow outcroppings of rock and dunes through the darkness. The increasing awareness of a nearing presence awakened your senses, forcing you to slowly push your body up from the ground.

Before you could gain your footing in the sand, a piercing whack! collided with the back of your skull, sending your body forward into a crumpled heap on the ground. You felt the strap of your satchel slide off your shoulder and hit the sand beside you. Clamping your eyes shut as you shook the dizziness from your skull, you attempted to push the bright shapes from your vision. There was a resounding rhythm to the inflicted area as it pulsed in your ears. You twisted onto your side in the sand, searching the darkness for the perpetrator.

Out of the shadows of the dunes, you saw the glint of a metallic staff only seconds before it came hurling at your exposed face. You raised your arm to block to the blow, quickly catching the brunt of the force with your wrist. You cried out in pain as the bone fractured against the strength fueled into the hefty weapon.

Another scream resounded across the desert and clung to the drooping shapes of the dunes. There was something animalistic about it this time – something wild. Both you and your predator, who was still hidden in the shadows, paused to follow the sound. After the echo died off, you were met with the same hooting scream, but it came from only feet away.

The moonlight caught the glint of metallic features as the figure stepped forward and out of the shade of the rock face. Silver horns protruded from around their wrapped skull, accompanying a set of cylinders that appeared to serve as goggles. Tube-like tusks curved outwards around a set of large teeth. You couldn't tell if these metal details were a mask or embedded in their features.

Tusken Raiders!

The Tusken raised his staff horizontally in the air and released a strain of hooting cries, signaling to the other of its reward. You heard several others shout in return, much closer than the call from moments before. You dug your heels into the sand, pushing your body away from the looming figure. The movement caught its attention and it released a croaky yell. You frantically searched around your legs for Astra's staff as the same weapon came down towards your stomach.

A metallic clank echoed on the air as you met it with the quarterstaff and pushed up with brute force, swinging your right leg out and behind the Tusken's left calf. It stumbled back, allowing you enough time to jump to your feet just as another chorus of savage screams rang from behind you. You tossed the quarterstaff lightly upwards and caught the tip of it with your unmarred hand, swinging the object around with all of your strength.

It collided into the mask of the first Tusken who had injured you, ensuring its stumble into the sand. With quick reflexes, you spun around and attempted the same trick, treating the staff as if it were a lightsaber. You met the mask of another Tusken as it neared dangerously close to your flank. It fell backward with a hoarse cry. You hadn't a moment's rest before three more rushed at you with their gaffi sticks raised in the air.

You swung the staff forward, pivoting in a quick circle on your heels, landing the tip of it against the sockets of one of their masks. It fell to the ground in an unconscious heap as you maneuvered your footing to parry the next, using every ounce of strength left in your wearied body to combat the Tusken's savage strength as it came at you. While fighting one, another circled around your back, quickly moving to bring the pointed heel of its staff down between your shoulder blades.

You loosed your injured hand from the staff and jutted it out behind you, freezing the weapon in mid-air with a defensive evasion of Force Stasis. You managed one good blow with your weakening parry before you turned to face the next, whose weapon was trembling in the air, their limbs stiff under your manipulation. The Tusken released a suppressed series of disgruntled growls that echoed off of the towering dunes and rock faces. There would be more of them within seconds. You could hear their footfalls sifting through the sand.

As you held the creature's body immobilized, you raised Astra's staff high in your other hand and swung it sideways as you released the Tusken before smashing into their neck with the staff. It faltered slightly in its footing and released a blood-curdling cry across the desert. You waited as it stood back up, adjusting your grasp on the quarterstaff. Your chest heaved as you stood motionless, planting your feet in a defensive stance.

When the creature came running at you, you swung the staff low into their abdomen. It fell into the sand by your feet with a pained groan, trying to push itself up from the sand. Luckily, it didn't get up. It wasn't a fatal blow - but it was enough to exhaust the Tusken.

Once again, the air around you was muddled with the eerie resonance of animalistic battle cries. Only this time, it surrounded you.

You glanced around your feet rapidly, looking for your satchel that held your saber. You kicked around in the bleak darkness, finding nothing but sand. It wasn't until you raised your gaze that you saw the metal clasp glint in the faint moonlight. It was being moved.

Ten feet away, the satchel was picked up by another Tusken warrior. It glanced from the bag and back up to you before it wrapped the strap across its torso. You pushed off of your heels in the dense sand into a sprint, only to catch sight of a bright orange beam of light before it landed only a foot from your own boots, sending an explosion of heat and sand against your body.

You couldn't comprehend what had happened, but you suddenly felt weightless. It wasn't until your body crashed against the dense sand dune that you realized you had been blown back. You gasped for air after the impact and forced yourself to regain your footing quickly.

You stood on the base of the dune and wiped the grainy substance from your features. In a flash, you felt the near-miss of yet another staff as it grazed the air by your cheek. You leaned back and brought the quarterstaff up to your chest like a shield. You turned to your right where another Tusken was with its gaffi pulled back from swinging it. Quickly, you turned back and lunged your boots into the rising dune.

Dozens of cries reverberated around you, sending chills across your skin. You were hopelessly outnumbered, especially since your vision was impaired in the darkness between dune shadows. Your best option was to run.

You leaned back as you crossed over to the opposite side of the dune and slid down the wall of sand. When your boots hit the flat earth, you broke into a sprint across the short stretch of plain between more waves of compressed sand. Your chest burned with incomparable ferocity and a dense ache shot through your legs each time your feet sank into the uneven grit. Behind you, a roar of incoherent voices rose onto the air as the Tuskens pursued you.

Frantically, you searched the pulse within you for your lost ribbon that had led you this far.

As you reached another dune and passed between its shadows, another glint of metal caught your attention. The sharp point of a gaffi stick came hurling at your stomach. You evaded the piercing blow with a jump and brought the quarterstaff swinging back, delivering a sickening thud! to the back of the Tusken's head. Without so much as a breath of air, you pressed forward with as much speed as you could muster. Blindly, you found yourself climbing another tall dune.

You chanced a glance behind you as you stood atop of the grainy mound.

You felt your heart drop into your chest.

In the pale moonlight, you could make out a hunting party of a dozen Tuskens. They were crossing the very same plain you had just fled over and their speed was surprisingly quick. You turned back around and search the round shapes of the desert that stretched ahead of you for guidance. Were there any shipwrecks those laborers had mentioned? Any salvage yards you could find refuge in?

Show me, please, you begged.

Off to the left, on the edge of the same plain you had just escaped, sat one tall spire that pierced the low horizon of desert. It looked like the moisture vaporators you had seen scattered around the outskirts of Anchorhead. A jagged rock face seemed to surround the tower that rose out of the earth. A dome-like outline filtered into your vision as you studied the dim shapes across the desert. A white plume of smoke filtered into the air from somewhere behind the fixture.

A hut!

Without a second glance, you pushed yourself forward and slid down the slanted dune. When your legs broke into a sprint, the ache spread throughout the rest of your body. You tried to ignore the sensation as your adrenaline pushed you forward as you weaved through the paths of dunes. Finally, with the hungry cries of Tuskens behind you, you broke out into the plain between mounds and made a bee-line for the hut.

Their ravenous voices increased as they saw your figure streak out of the shadows ahead of them. You could feel their focus reconfigure as you pressed your body to breach the very last of its limitations. Your heart palpitated as you struggled to even your breathing with every extension of your sprinting limbs.

Behind you, the sound of another explosion burst through the air. Sand sprayed your backside as you ran onward, chancing a glance to the murderous crowd in hot pursuit. From what you could make out, the numbers were still the same, except a few were dotted a top of dunes and pausing in their sprint with metallic objects hoisted in their arms. Those must be the rifles the pilot had warned you about – the ones that could blast a limb clean off of your body.

You didn't doubt it now after witnessing the small explosions that resulted from their missed attempts at killing you with them.

Another explosion sent a wall of sand in your direction. This time it had been a few feet ahead of you in your direct path towards the hut in the distance. You attempted to swerve in your direction to dodge whatever blasts would follow, but it inherently made the pain in your worn muscles escalate to an unbearable degree as you fought the sand that buried your feet with every step.

As you drew in a ragged breath, you clamped your eyes shut and focused every ounce of concentration on your speed. It worked well to lengthen your distance until the echoes of more hooting cries resonated in front of you rather than behind.

Your eyes flew open and for the first time, you noticed the multitude of Tuskens that had been hidden between the dunes. They dispersed in twos and threes between the mounds on both sides of the flat stretch.

When the scavengers in Anchorhead had said "overrun", they weren't kidding.

Your distracted shock cost you the keen sense of foresight which helped you expect attacks. Another shot from one of their rifles exploded with curt violence only inches from your heels, hurling your body forwards. You pummeled into the sand, covering your sweating limbs with the grit of coarse grains. Again, you fought to inhale oxygen as you lay helpless in the open. It took several seconds before you could bring your body up from the ground – several valuable seconds.

You felt exhausted tears gather beneath your eyelids as you gripped Astra's staff once more and dug its edge into the ground. You used it to pull your body up, rising as quickly as possible, but your body was utterly spent. You stood and waited for the next attack.

When it came, you ducked beneath the assault and brought the staff around just as you had before, but your strength had weakened. It took three attempts to down a single Tusken. In a mere moment, you were surrounded by several as the heavier crowd pursued close behind.

In a confusing fit of human strength paired against savage anger, you managed to defeat another, and another – until you felt a dull blow to your lower back, directly impacting the base of your spine. The sudden impact made you drop to one knee – the pain was unbelievably sharp as it pulsed through you. You jumped back up as quickly as you could, but your agility was hastily drained.

As you swung the quarterstaff outwards, another hit was dealt to your side, and another as you turned, and another – until another explosive release from one of the rifles met your ears, followed by a sharp burning pain that rippled across your shoulder blades. Your senses faded quickly as you crumpled onto the ground in a groaning fever of excruciating pain. The smell of charred flesh filled your nostrils as you dug your fingers into the sand. With weak determination, you attempted to pull yourself onto your knees, but a deafening shock to the skull siphoned the effort from your body. As your vision faded into deep black, you were vaguely aware of the onslaught of battering that followed in your unconsciousness.

  The suns warmed Obi-Wan's features as he stepped through his doorway and into the morning light. His breakfast sat untouched on the small dining table inside his hut, steam pouring up from the warm bowl of fresh oats. But he hadn't been able to sit and dine on his meal – something kept calling to him, just as it had been for the last several days; something broken and restless. His eyes scanned the desert that stretched before him, searching for whatever this desperate calling was. He saw nothing but dunes and rich golden shadows, followed by the canyons in the distance that lead to Anchorhead.

To his right, the moisture vaporator chirped rhythmically as it always did. Beyond the rocks that jutted up behind his home, there was nothing but flat sand for miles. It wasn't until he looked to his left, straining his eyes in the bright sunlight, that he noticed a misconfigured shape in the stretch of flat plains that lay between mounds of trickling sand. It was about half a mile out down the slope from his hut, lying lifeless in the morning heat.

From this distance, he could see the vague shape of a collapsed figure and the beige color of clothing that was a slightly tanner shade than the sand. Apart from vague colors, he could depict nothing else. He remembered the muddled commotion he had heard in the night, but it hadn't been anything out of the ordinary. He always heard the hunting party's hooting cries in the late hours of the night, as well as the echoes of their weapons as they targeted the wild beasts that roamed the desert.

It was most likely the remains of whatever animal the Tuskens had killed in the night, but he couldn't be sure. They never left the carcasses of their kills behind; they salvaged everything, even the bones. It was unusual to see any evidence from their excursions to find prey, which was one of the many details that made them such a dangerous threat to travelers.

Something told him this wasn't right.

Obi-Wan went inside the doorpost of his home and donned his woolen robe. He tightened his belt around his torso and clicked the hilt of his saber onto it - he had learned not to venture out into the open without a source of protection.

He padded down the slope of mineral that his hut sat upon, a jagged outcropping of rock that mirrored the jagged form of the canyons. When hit boots hit the sand, his feet sunk into the shifting density of the ground. No matter how many times he had walked in the plains of deserts in the dozens of warm climate planets he had visited, the weighted tug on his momentum that the sand caused was something he had never become accustomed to.

He shrouded his hand over his features as he studied the limp figure in the distance. With every few feet he gained, the uneasiness he had been feeling churned his stomach. He had managed to keep his thoughts manageable in the last two weeks, although it had been difficult. The secret to keeping himself in check was dismissing any thought of the betrayal of his padawan and the mystery that surrounded your disappearance. He refused to believe you were dead, but it was beginning to look like the only probable solution.

If you had lived, you would have contacted him by now. But he hadn't received any form of transmission or signal – nothing. Nothing but the worry and growing grief that gnawed through his flesh and began to devour his bones. His body ached with remorse.

But that wasn't the Jedi way, so he had meditated and forced himself into stillness until he had reined his attachment to a lull where it sat in the hollow chasm of his broken heart. He had lost everything in his life that had been worth protecting – his way of life, his best friend, and the love of his life. The best method he could follow was to ignore his emotions and block out the past.

He began filling his time with habitual tasks; he had made the secluded adobe he had bartered for into a home, modest and simple, but it was slowly becoming familiar to his senses just as his quarters in the Jedi Temple had been. He had kept a careful but distant eye on the child he had brought to the Lars'. There simply wasn't any benefit from allowing his attachment to torment him. What more than heartache could such thinking achieve?

As Obi-Wan drew within yards of the creature, he could make out definitive features he had not realized before; the figure had a feminine shape, as well as the dark stain of what he assumed was blood on her clothing, and the color of (h/c) hair as wisps of it caught the breeze. Some poor soul had found their way into the Dune Sea and collapsed from exhaustion or dehydration, or worse . . . they might've been attacked.

Obi-Wan sighed as that gnawing remorse surged in his chest.

This was yet another reminder of your uncertain fate, as well as Astra's.

When he was close enough to see the details of the creature's (pale/tan/dark) skin, Obi-Wan's steps slowed subconsciously. The light green robes that flicked against the sand, though stained with crimson hues, were familiar to his memory. The shape of her calves, the delicate curve of her back, the hand that clutched the desiccated earth – it was all much too familiar.

No, it can't be, Obi-Wan thought.

As he knelt in the sand by the figure, the breath in his lungs seemed to evaporate onto the dry air with a pensive gasp. The stains of red on her clothing weren't the result of light abrasions as he had hoped. It was almost sickening to look upon; the torn cloth of her tunic that revealed swelling gashes that had penetrated deep within the skin, black bruises dotted her limbs in various shapes, and blood stained the sand beneath her.

Quickly, Obi-Wan grasped her left shoulder and gently turned her body over. He pushed the blood-mingled hair out her face, and when he did, his heart nearly stopped. There, in the emptiness of the desert, his desert, were the features of his lost love.

"(Y/n)!?" He breathed. He tucked two fingers under your jaw. Amidst his shock, he felt a rush of relief; there was a steady rhythm to your pulse, however faint.

His fingers grazed your cheeks with care as he inspected the wounds on your face. Your once-soft cheeks were plump with bruises and stained with crimson liquid. Your tender lips were chapped and stained with dried blood where they had been split open. Your teeth were pink with it. Your left eye was inflicted so much so that it had turned purple and had swollen considerably.

"(Y/n), can you hear me?" He asked, clasping either side of your face in his hands. Your head hung limply there, supported only by his touch. He swallowed over the sensation of tears that swelled in his throat. He rapped your cheek with his palm and was rewarded with taunting silence. "(Y/n)!"

He took this bleak chance to observe your other wounds. Under what was left of your tabard was a tunic spattered with such a dark shade of blood that it nearly appeared black. Through the tears of your clothes, he could see small gashes of jagged flesh where gaffi sticks had punctured your skin. It wasn't just one, but several. Over your arms, your torso, and your thighs. What of your body that wasn't ripped or covered in your blood was swollen with a green and purple hue.

Tuskens, he thought, the Tuskens did this to you. 

Only now did he think to look at the ground where he noticed a faint pattern of footsteps dotted around the area. He was surprised the wind had not flattened the tracks in the night. What disconcerted the Jedi most was not that there were tracks left by Tuskens, but the sheer multitude of movement that was imprinted on the desert around him. There must have been a dozen or more of them. It had been you they had hunted in the night, not a wild beast. His proof was the battered body that lay in his arms – the result of brutal violence. 

A few feet away, Obi-Wan spotted a glint in the sand and made his way to it. From under the sand, he pulled out two halves of a quarterstaff that had been cracked in two. The delicate etchings in the metal were the same ones that your padawan had painted on your Courier just weeks prior. This was Astra's quarterstaff.

What happened to her?

He hadn't even thought to look for her in the wake of your appearance. He studied the horizons around him, the dips and curves in the sand, the misconfigured shadows of the dunes, and found no trace of another body. You were alone.

Had Astra been taken back to their camps? As prisoner or as a slave?

A darker realization dawned on him.

Was her absence the result of something much darker? Had she not survived the mass execution? Had you come to Tatooine on your own? And why Tatooine, of all places? He had left no indication of his whereabouts - no one but the few remaining Jedi knew where he was, and only that he had delivered one of the twins to a safe residence with family.

He tied the traps of the staff together and suspended it from his belt. It dragged the ground slightly, but it was the easiest way for him to take it with him. He assumed you would want the remains of your padawan's belongings, no matter what the truth was behind Astra's absence.

Without further delay, Obi-Wan slid his arms under your body and used his legs to balance your weight with his as he lifted you from the ground. He tucked you against him as he strode towards his adobe with swift steps. He feared to lose a single minute in your critical condition. 

           Over the years, he had noticed and taken in more and more of this woman as he grew up under Qui-Gon’s supervision and she under Yoda’s. She was only ever outspoken if there was a dire need at hand, or if she felt a decision was being made in haste rather than by wise council.

Obi-Wan could remember a time in the midst of a council when she had spoken out of turn against a hasty decision to execute a man who had been charged of fraud and stealing scrolls from the Jedi temple. When the trial surfaced into a council meeting that she and Obi-Wan were advised to observe, the council quickly assumed that the man was aiding a group of Bounty Hunters that had been causing chaos within the city. The man seemed doomed from the start.

During the discussion, Obi had felt (Y/n)’s emotions grow more and more intense, he could feel her try to bite her tongue as the evidence was discussed, but when they claimed he should be executed, he felt her tense, as if a force had pushed her forward to speak up. He would admit he had not agreed to the direction the trial was going, but he had learned to keep his silence long ago. And his trust in the council overrode any doubt he felt surface in that moment.

~

“You cannot make that conclusion! You need not kill a man only because you assume he could be the culprit! It’s against the Jedi Code!” Her remark silenced the pensive and anxious voices that had filled the room. In childlike faith, she had spoken out amongst the Masters before them.

All eyes turned towards the young padawan in shock at her audacity to interrupt the council.

“Padawan (L/n), you are not subject to hold an opinion at this council. Your chance will come when you succeed your status as Padawan. But now it is your duty to remain silent.” Master Mace Windu scolded, obviously irritated at the interruption of a young girl, a padawan no less.

“If this man has already stolen artifacts and been convicted of fraud under a Jedi alias, then we cannot risk what may follow if he is given free-will to live! A Jedi was killed so he could harbor their name! One of our own! What more could you ask for to sentence him?” Master Ki-Adi-Mundi added.

“Understand the danger, you must. To be taken lightly, this is not.” Her master advised her, his hands intertwining atop his knotted staff.

“Pardon my intrusion, Master Yoda, but how can this be in accordance to the Jedi Code despite what this man is accused of? What if this man was held at a ransom to do such a thing? Or mistaken for another? What evidence is there that a man could lose his life?” At her further comment, the council seemed to gasp altogether. Then they all retorted at once.

“The only ransom this man was involved in was his own!”

“The audacity to oppose the council!”

“A ransom?! Yes, I’m sure he was promised a pretty price for his deeds!”

“Evidence? What do you think we’ve been discussing?!”

And so they kept on for a few minutes, with scolding and exasperated remarks, among a few hushed comments spoken amongst each other until another voice spoke up in her defense.

“I believe what Padawan (L/n) means is that this man might have been threatened. Does this man have a family to speak of? Perhaps it would cost him their lives if it he did not comply with the orders given, if he is indeed involved with the bounty ring we suspect. It is possible that he has had no prior offenses.” Master Qui-Gon’s voice rebutted the chaos of voices that rang in the room.

The voices suppressed as they understood what she had meant, though stern glances were still worn by a majority of the council. Qui-Gon smiled at the young woman as he noticed her hands trembling as she clutched them together. When she caught his gaze, she nodded in thanks to him. Obi-Wan had kept his silence that meeting as it all unfolded, quite shocked himself that she - of all padawans - had spoken out. After his master had defended her and ended the berating of the council, Obi looked at (Y/n) and noticed her shoulders relax. Her trembling hands receded under the cover of her robe and her breath evened out. It seemed to Obi-Wan that something within (Y/n) had told her speak up, that if she hadn’t, she would forever remember that moment as a lost chance, a memory stained with regret.

“Scold you too soon, we did. Wise consideration you have, my padawan.” Yoda had said, nodding as his gaze beamed with pride at her outspoken observation, one that even he had not considered in the tension of the subject.

Even Master Windu seemed pleased with the information she seemed to have provided, although his expression stayed that of stone for the remaining hour.

When the meeting had concluded, the man in question was only sentenced to time in prison until further evidence was provided. Months later, the perpetrator received a chance of bail as it was proven that there was indeed, a threat placed on his family and his business if he did not comply.

As (Y/n) and Obi-Wan followed their masters out of the council room, Obi-Wan felt an urging to comfort her.

“Don’t worry, Master Windu always carries that expression on his face.” He said with a chuckle, a smirk upon his lips.

“He always does seem rather antagonized…Constantly.” She had added, laughter entwined with her words.

They exchanged smiles and hushed laughter as they trailed behind Yoda and Qui-Gon Jinn, who were immersed in their own conversation, presumably about the previous council. Obi-Wan’s laughter faded only when he looked away from her and steadied his gaze on his master’s boots as they rhythmically peeked out from under his swaying robe. He felt as though his comment did not completely comfort her, as though there was something he left unsaid. His stomach churned slightly as the feeling of incompletion roamed his mind. Then he looked at her again.

A smile graced her lips, though it was a bit more subtle than the smile she bore with laughter. Her gaze was fixated her masters staff; she was wondering of its origins, that perhaps it was quite possible only an ordinary  stick he found on a mission sometime in his youth that had molded to his hands over time.

“You were quite brave back there, (Y/n). Your interference saved a man’s life. It is to be admired of you.” Obi-Wan heard himself say, although amongst the urging in his heart to speak and the voice in his head that told him to hold his tongue, the words were spoken quite unexpectedly.

She looked at him without hesitance, another reminder that her reserved nature was not to be mistaken for a shy timidity. Her smile faltered slightly and he noticed. For a brief second he was worried he had been too outspoken, but then her expression carried a different smile- one of thanks and of an endearing understanding.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan. You are kind. But I mustn’t take credit for the Force’s doing.”

So he had been right; she was warring with the Force of whether or not to oppose the council’s decision. She had been compliant to its urging, to the conscience it had given her.

‘Yes, but you listened,” He had wanted to say, ‘Your voice was the one that spoke out.’

But the conversation seemed to have ended, and his mind finally won against his heart.

~

Obi-Wan smiled to himself as the memory faded away. The moments after her response were muddled and forgotten over the next stages of life they had shared. (Y/n) and Obi-Wan had been friends almost immediately after that. It was a mature friendship from the start, with neither of them baring their inmost emotions freely as the Jedi code dictated, but with a prudent manner that made their companionship deepen all the more. They were assigned on most missions together from then on as the council saw they worked well together – both were bound to the code with an unswayable duty, and their personalities were quite alike in their reserved, obedient nature.

The last mission he took as a padawan was when his master was killed by Darth Maul; that was also the first mission in a long time that (Y/n) had not been alongside him. She was ordered by her master to begin her last stages of training. It was time for her to begin advising the younglings under Yoda’s supervision as part of her final preparation before the Jedi Trials. At this time, Qui-Gon Jinn had also expressed to Obi-Wan that it was his time to begin the Trials as well, when their current mission concluded. But Qui-Gon Jinn’s death put a different atmosphere on those plans as the first glimpse into the rise of the Siths under a hidden power was revealed. Obi-Wan was given the task of taking young Anakin as his padawan at his master’s death. (Y/n), while Obi-Wan was finding his way home with his future apprentice Anakin, was in the midst of the Jedi Trials. She succeeded, immediately put in charge of the younglings. She would train them when missions did not bid her leave from the planet. Upon Obi-Wan’s return to Coruscant, he was summoned the join the council before his Trials would take place.

Now, he climbed the steps to the terrace steadily as the sounds of Naboo became more coherent and his memories of (Y/n) seemed to serenade him. The memory was clearer to him as he now caught sight of her overlooking the waters of the lush green planet; the dress she was wearing was more delicate than the tunic and robe she wore regularly. For a moment, before he shifted his thoughts forcibly, he had thought her as intoxicating as the smell of the Naboo blossoms that floated on the air around the terrace as they fell from the trees. The sleeves of the gown were a soft pea green that slightly revealed her arms through the thin material. The bodice and skirt was of emerald green velvet, with a layer of the same material from the sleeves graced over the skirt. A belt of golden beads girted her waist, accenting the green and complimenting her (h/c) hair. Her hair was pinned up in an elaborate fashion that resembled the plaiting of bread over a gooseberry pie, with golden pearls glinting in the remaining beams of the sleepy sun.

Patches of fading sunlight that streamed through trembling leaves illuminated parts of her (h/c) hair, enchanting him as he gazed at her. No longer could he deny what he felt for her, that she was nothing less than beautiful and of a wholesome make. He stepped into the open terrace and the scents of the Nabooian spring seemed to acclimate in sweetness.  The sight of her before him reminded him of the first time he had seen her since their last mission together as padawans, before he endured the Jedi Trials himself.

He had entered the corridor towards the council room and caught sight of a familiar (h/c)-haired woman before she vanished into the council room.

~

His heart-beat quickened for a moment as he caught glimpse of a head of wavy (h/c) curls pinned half-up, half-down with victory rolls. He had not seen her for six months, which was the longest they had been apart since that day she opposed the council, since their missions had been aligned with each other.

Subconsciously, his pace heightened slightly despite his exhaustion. His worn boots padded up the few steps as the doors glided open, announcing his presence to the council board. Upon entry, he was engaged in conversation with Master Windu and Master Yoda concerning Anakin and the choice of his former Master to train the young boy who would bring balance to the Force. As the inquisitions died down, a voice quite familiar with him spoke up.

“I believe we have forgotten our manners regarding young Kenobi’s return. We needn’t ask how your journey was, given the circumstances. But welcome back, Obi-Wan. We are all relieved to see you returned safely with a successful mission to accompany you.” Her voice was still so like soft rain, so unchanged and yet slightly different – perhaps because of the emotion riddled in it.

He turned to look at her and drink in her familiarity. It had been a long while since he had looked on the face of a friend. He noticed her joyful eyes, her kind smile, and the compassion and empathy that radiated from her to him. She felt his loss, though she knew he could not show it. And then he noticed her hair that no longer bore the braid of a padawan. Before he could silence his emotions, he wanted nothing more than to draw her up in his arms and tell her everything that had happened – everything that was going to change. Such conversations they often shared as such close companions. But with a smile and a tightening grip on his folded hands, he replied.

“Thank you, (Y/n). I am most relieved to be back, especially with the completion of Master Qui-Gon’s mission. It is good to see you.”

Before she could reply, Master Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke.

“We also have a success of our own! (Y/n) completed the Jedi Trials last week and has earned the title of Master. She teaches the younglings in Master Yoda’s stead.”

Obi-Wan smiled with astonishment. He could not deny the pride he felt for her.

“Well, congratulations, Master (Y/n)! You have most definitely earned it. You persevered bravely, no doubt.” He nodded towards her with a chuckle, his voice accentuating the word ‘master’.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan. You are kind.” She replied, repeating her thanks she gave him when they held their first conversation long ago.

~

He walked toward her now with great desire in his heart. That exchange had been years ago. Now he had long been Anakin’s master, with her by his side. It took more than one Jedi Master to keep Anakin in check, although she graciously let most of the duty fall on him, Anakin’s true teacher. He walked up to her, his heart swelling with an undeniable comfort as she sensed him and turned to look at him.

“Hello, Obi.” You smiled, genuine delight in your voice.

He nodded a hello to you and spoke a hushed, “Hello there.”

As he walked up to you, he spoke again. His body eased as your presence met and mingled with his own. The only other living beings close to the two of you were the small insects and plants thriving about in the late spring evening.

“I thought you would be out here, relishing in the greenery of Naboo. How does it feel to be back home?”

“It feels wonderful. It hasn’t changed at all. Except I am now in a palace watching over a queen and a padawan, instead of in a small house by the lake using the Force the catch Minwer crabs.” You replied, laughter strung along in your last few words.

He looked at you, his eyes full of an endearing emotion you couldn’t quite pin.

Your gaze lingered for a moment, as if many things were being said between the two of you that could never be spoken aloud.

Your mind overwhelmed you with the need to confess to him that you had long harbored feelings for him; that your close friendship through the years had blossomed into something much richer, much more fulfilling. And it had only ever been for him.

Quickly, you averted your gaze and watched the last gleam of sunlight vanish behind the hills in the distance. The water ceased to reflect its golden light and bore only the reflection of the encumbering blue sky.

“How was Anakin today, being charged to watch over the queen?” You managed to ask, doing your best to hide the emotions that you knew had to be radiating from you. You were sure he could sense it. An anxious fear twinged in your gut as you worried he knew exactly what you were thinking, exactly what you were trying keep hidden. You felt as if your thoughts might’ve been carried on the breeze and into his ears, as if he could see everything – but you couldn’t see his. You knew this was childish, but you were also aware that the Force often times revealed more of you than you desired to be revealed to others, even your dearest friend. You were sure this was one of those times.

Upon the topic of your question, another memory surfaced in his mind. With your back to the water as he had approached, the scene in front of him mirrored one of long ago, when Anakin was just a little boy under both of your care. And although the two of you didn’t always see eye-to-eye about the routine and training of the little padawan, your close friendship somehow survived and grew all the more from the quarrels you shared.

~

“Obi-Wan! Would you come here for a minute, please?” He had heard her call from somewhere outside, his concentration over a pile of papers broken. He heard Anakin’s muffled laughter moments later. “Sh! Ani, don’t make it worse! You know he will already be upset with me.” He heard her add in a not-so-quiet whisper to the young boy, with a laugh he could tell she tried to suppress.

‘Oh, dear. What have they gotten into now?’ He thought to himself, pushing aside the Jedi Council’s list of treaties and missions that were to come in the next few weeks.

He got up from his seat in a small study of their quaint quarters of the royal palace in Naboo, for they had been staying there on a short excursion for some of Anakin’s many training procedures as a young prodigy of the Force. Making his way towards the balcony that overlooked a little cove of the lake, he could hear Anakin snort with laughter as (Y/n) cursed quietly to herself. Flustered at what he was hearing and anticipating who-knows-what the two had gotten into, he ran a hand through his short hair. He still found it odd to not feel his braid bouncing lightly on his shoulder. It had only been six months since he had earned the rank of Master.

He rounded the corner of the door of the balcony, pushing the heavy crimson curtains aside. He walked through the doorway and caught sight of the two in question. Anakin was seated on a stool under the shade of a blossoming tree, while (Y/n) was bent over with his unkempt braid in between her fingers. As he saw her, his mind immediately took note of her (h/c) hair being free of any pins or ties. It fell upon her softly, the hot summer breeze making its damp appearance sway slightly. 

Stray strands of the silky entity flew about with an unscrupulous manner, as if it clung to the breeze with a gay little dance. For a moment, he was astonished at seeing it completely down, and it made him feel that way again – wanting to express all that he had begun to feel for her, all the things she made him think, the way she made him a better version of himself. The way he would lie awake at night with his thoughts occupied of her laughter and her modest manner; the way she could wield a saber with such concentration and strength and the way she didn’t use the Force, but allowed herself to be a vessel to its will. 

Sensing him - or perhaps hearing him sigh in frustration - she turned around and offered him an embarrassed smile. His thoughts halted as he stood by her side and took in the scene before him.

“I can never weave the beads in correctly, Obi. Could you finish it for me, please?”

“Anakin, I thought I was clear about the sacredness of your braid. It signifies your rank as padawan, you mustn’t let it come undone.” Obi-Wan had scolded, his hands quickly undoing the mess of a braid that (Y/n) had started. She was fine with her own hair it seemed, but the padawan braid was quite unlike any other casual styles. Each pleat and pattern had significance, from the color of the bands used to the order of beads in the braid.

“What if I’m wet, Master Kenobi? And it comes loose?” Anakin’s young voice questioned as he moved his head to look up at Obi-Wan.

“Wet? Why on Endor were you wet?” Obi-Wan asked, softly turning Ani’s head away so he could begin the braid over again. (Y/n) stretched out her hand that held the few beads and colored bands that went in the braid, offering them to him.

“He went swimming.” (Y/n) spoke up before Anakin could open his mouth. Obi-Wan took the items from her hand and she folded her arms with her index finger absentmindedly tracing her lips, a hint that she was treading carefully with her words. Obi-Wan fought the flurries that rose in his stomach as he saw her do so.

“Swimming? With who?” He inquired further, his hands weaving a small blue bead into his hair.

“Me, of course.” She replied, her voice assertive and yet soft in the presence of the boy, aware that an argument was at risk between her and Obi-Wan. “It was getting awfully hot on the sparring grounds for him so I told him to take a break. We decided on swimming in the cove.”

“A break? (Y/n) you know that he-“As he spoke, she shook her head and motioned towards Anakin. Silenced, he cleared his throat. ‘That explains her wet hair, as well as Ani’s drenched braid. And the mop of wet gear by the door.’ He thought to himself, his frustration twinging.

“Did you at least finish your saber training this morning?” He asked as he finished with tying a red band at the end of the braid.

“Almost, (Y/n) said I needed to have some fun for a little bit.”

Obi-Wan shot her a look of indignation. Not only had she taken him on some silly excursion, but she allowed him to use her first name when addressing her. Surely she knew the risk of allowing him such freedoms. He wasn’t at all a normal boy with normal privileges.

“Ani, why don’t you go clean up and get changed into some dry clothes? We’ll have lunch in a little while.” She told him with a soft voice. With a pat on his back, she shooed him into their quarters. She smiled as he disappeared of into the hall with wet tracks pooling on the floor behind him.

“Must we go through this again, (Y/n)? You know why he can’t become distracted with nonsense. And you let him use your first name? That hardly teaches him to respect you as his superior.” Obi-Wan started in immediately.

Avoiding his gaze, she picked up the towels and mouthpieces and other things they had used to swim with. She only spoke a few soft words to him as she returned inside.

“Obi, please, let’s not argue about this again.”

As she left his side, he huffed a sigh of frustration and took one last glance at the cove before following her. His next words poured out with sincerity, his stern tone telling of his serious view on the matter at hand.

“Not until I can make you understand! He cannot behave like a normal boy. He is a young padawan! He is impressionable at this age. He needs to be disciplined and learn early the demands of the code.”

“Obi, he’s only a boy! He needs some time to act like it!”

“He is also connected to the Force in a way we do not yet comprehend. Master Qui-Gon made that clear. He has the potential to balance the entirety of the Force, with gifts we cannot risk to lose control of.”

He was only met with silence as she put the wet things in a basket by the laundry room door, then made her way into the small kitchen and began pulling out various ingredients.

“Qui-Gon died for him, (Y/n). This is no light-hearted matter.”

“Darth Maul had nothing to do with Ani. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Do not speak to me as if I do not care for what Master Qui-Gon sacrificed – you know I do. But this is about Anakin. He has so little of his childhood left!”

“Do you not see how dangerous it is to let him be lax on his training? The wrong notions of fun and loose concentration will sway his abilities to hold to the Light Side and grow in his training. You know this! You’re a Jedi, for goodness’ sake! He’s not a normal padawan, (Y/n). You know why.”

“Please do not lecture me about this, Obi-Wan. You act as if I throw caution to the wind. I only took the boy for a short swim. Do you not think overworking him will cause him to resent the code? And I love that Ani is comfortable enough with me to use my given name, not my rank. He respects me just the same as you and the other masters, you know that!”

~

That argument had been one of the worst they had ever shared as the tension lingered for the following few days, but it was because they both desired so much for young Skywalker. While Obi-Wan wanted him to enjoy his childhood, he knew all too well the risks of letting him run wild – even for a short while. Jedi training was no light task, nor was it easy to take up. And with Anakin’s chromosomes being so oddly configured by some miracle of the Force, no one could know what to truly expect from him.

And (Y/n), with her motherly instinct for Ani, knew what every woman knows –that a child must be free to be a child if they are to become who they were destined to be. She had become the mother figure since the boy was taken away from his birth mother, and while most times Obi-Wan trusted her without question, there were some instances when they saw things quite differently.

And now, as your question lingered in the air, he was pulled from his memories and back into your gaze.

“Oh, he -he was rather glad to do it. Now come to think of it, he was unusually agreeable about the matter.” His response seemed distracted at first, but his tone swiftly changed in a natural, unnoticeable way.

“It seems we have another problem on our hands. A young, handsome Jedi and a beautiful queen ordered to remain together. That mightn’t have been our best plan.” You laughed, grateful for the distraction from your emotions and the deterring of the topic that was lulling in your mind.

“Oh, bother. If only Master Qui-Gon Jinn was still here. I doubt there would be this much trouble under his supervision.”

“Obi, he is here. You know that. He would have wanted no one else to take on his mission. Besides, I doubt anyone can truly control Anakin.” You absentmindedly laid a hand on his forearm and gave it a reassuring grasp. “And I don’t think Anakin would jeopardize becoming a Jedi Master for such curiosities. He does have a good head on his shoulders, thanks to you.”

“Thank you, (Y/n). Your affirmations never cease to calm my heart.”

You hummed in reply to him, your heart beating in an uncharted manner as his words became sweeter. His eyes never left yours, his expression full of something. Surely, it was not the same as what you were trying so desperately to overcome. Surely, he was not at risk for getting lost in your eyes, as you were in his. Oh, how you longed to be captured in his embrace, to feel every emotion there was to feel of love; every butterfly, every tingling sensation, to speak every word of poetic confession and think every thought of the purest of loves. To have your fingers intwined with his, to smell closely his scent and never fear of forgetting it. You were at risk of reaching forward and taking his hand in yours, of revealing everything you ever felt for him.

The pace of your heart quickened and you forced yourself to look away. He had, no doubt, seen how heavily your chest was rising and falling.

Hesitantly, your hand fell away and rested atop your own on the beautifully crafted railing. Your thumbs traced over the delicate carvings, their smooth texture a further distraction from your nerves. The sleeves of your gown trembled gently in the breeze. You marveled at the reflection of the moon as it gleamed in soft ripples over the cool Naboo waters. Your gaze lifted up to the heavens, where the stars and glimmering distant galaxies began to unveil themselves in the darkening sky.

Obi-Wan followed your gaze and smiled. You had both dreamt of seeing galaxies and faraway places and you both had done so together in through the years. You had grown up together for nearly half of your lives now, and somehow your journeys were still intertwining amidst all the paths the galaxies held.

‘Surely there is some purpose that we are still by each other’s side, after all this time.’ He thought to himself. It took much of his will to not blurt out what his heart had been bursting with for several years for you.

His heart, too, was beating unmeasurably as your hand had grasped his forearm. Although he was sure it was only the touch of a friend, he had hoped he would feel your fingers enrapture his, but instead you had pulled away quickly and averted his gaze. He could sense something pouring from within you, something desperate, but he was unsure of what it was. When your gaze lingered with his, he thought he could understand it and sense it, but it fleeted as you turned away.

The breeze cooled as all warmth of the sun diminished under the blanket of royal blue expanse. You shivered, although you did not notice as you took in the mesmerizing beauty of the heavens and battled your emotions.

A hand grasped your forearm, slightly startling you at the warm difference.

“You’re cold. Would you like to retire inside?” Obi-Wan met your gaze once more. He chilled at the touch of your skin.

“No, no that’s alright. I want to admire the evening a while longer. I brought my robe, anyhow.”

His touch now was so different than any you had ever felt from him before, now it was gentle and almost timid, so unlike the way he touched you on your missions when he would help you up or offer you a hand to climb or steady yourself. This was much different, but still Obi-Wan. It felt as though it spread from where he touched you until your arm tingled completely, until your fingertips twitched with the sensation.

“Here, let’s put it on, then.” He added, feeling the goose bumps on your skin. It was then he noticed how soft it was, as well as beautiful. He motioned for your robe.

You turned and pulled from his grasp, but the sensation remained. You picked it up off of the bench and began to slide your arms through, but it snagged on the draped sleeves of your gown.

“I’ll help you.” He said quietly as he made his way to you.

He hoisted up the robe and you easily slid through. As he began to tie the ribbon under the collar, he grazed your chin with his finger by accident. Your breath hitched audibly at his touch upon your face, though he seemed to take no note of it. His expression was solemn, as if he was anxious, or apologetic. You began to think of telling him again, telling him how long you had loved him, how much you cared for him, when he finished the knot. He nodded at his handiwork and looked up slightly, though he did not meet your gaze.

His hands did not fall to his sides, but stayed idle upon the collar of your robe.

Then, finally, he looked into your eyes.  It was then that you felt his thumb gently touch your chin and you were sure he could feel everything that was roaring in your mind – somehow you could feel everything he was as well, and it all poured and flowed together. It felt the same.

You were both in love.

“Oh, Obi-…” You murmured, tears pooling in your eyes. Your head lowered as you spoke, unable to hide it any longer, but angry with yourself for endangering your allegiance to the code if you admitted your feelings.

He grasped your chin as you lowered your head, his heart sinking as he saw tears in your eyes.

As they glided down your cheeks, he swiped them away gently.

“I know, I feel it too.” He whispered.

Quickly, you lifted your head. Your mouth fell slightly open and a gasp left your lips upon his confession. Your eyebrows drew together, for surely he had not said what you had heard. He lifted your head slightly and inched forward, and then he pressed his lips to your forehead softly. When he pulled away, his hands shifted and held your cheeks, and tears pricked his eyes. In the gleam of the moon, the tears glinted in his blue eyes enough for you to notice them.

“Obi, do not weep!” You exclaimed softly amidst your own tears and embraced him without thinking. “If you bid one tear to fall, I won’t be able to keep mine idle.”

Without hesitation, his arms wrapped around your torso, your robe rippled at the sudden movement.  His grip tightened as you grasped his shoulders, your chin resting over his shoulder. But, somehow, Obi-Wan managed to grip you so gently, yet full of passion.

“Maybe someday…” He murmured as he inhaled your scent of lilies and chamomile mixed with the evening Naboo breeze. It made him melt even more into your arms; the fact that you were enveloped in his arms and your scent mingled with his.

You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, his scent of cedar and cinnamon meeting your senses. The scent you had so yearned to relish.

“Yes, perhaps someday, when we’re old and grey, we can say it, Obi.”

He chuckled softly.    

“When we’re old and Anakin is a master, then, perhaps, we can wed, (Y/n).”

You pulled back and met his gaze once more, and saw the tears that spilled over his cheeks. You reached up and wiped them away, then kissed his cheek. As you did, his eyes closed and he sighed with a smile. You hugged him again, this time with your cheek against his.

“It will work out, Obi. Love is much different anger, or greed, or fear. Truly, Jedis must live by Love if we are to abstain from the dark side.” You spoke quietly with a soft smile upon your lips.

Obi-Wan could not help but think of how your voice now sounded like the sweetest rain he had ever felt upon his skin. It was that thought that you felt against your cheek as he smiled sadly. His eyes remained closed as he drank in everything he was feeling, everything he could sense from you that he had only dreamt of feeling. You, too, were drinking in the scent you had so longed to smell, the touch you had longed to feel. Soon, they would have to return to the palace quarters; you to the queen and he to the padawan. You would bid goodnight to both each other and your emotions until time –and the Force – would bid you be together. . .

It was not so far in the future as the two Jedi masters had thought. For when Anakin had betrayed the Jedi Code and the Light Side, his wife, the beautiful queen, would die of a broken heart. But not before her children were born into the world, and Master Obi-Wan took the son, Luke Skywalker, to his relatives on Tatooine, and he took Master (L/n) with him.

There, not long after baby Luke had been settled well with his family, they wed in secret in a small sandy courthouse, their robes shrouded over their faces, their identities as Jedis hidden. Their matrimony would long be the only joy that would help heal the loss of their padawan, the young boy who had been much like a son to them both.

For many years, they lived out their days in the desert and in the dry canyons of Tatooine, where legends of an old Ben and (Y/n) Kenobi were rumored to have lived there. But their journey together was not yet concluded – for there was still much left for them in the future to overcome.