Hi! This is my third Star Wars fic. From the previous ones, (the one chaptered "On Padme's Death" and"A Story of A Lady"--go check it out, if you feel like it) you will all know by now that my favourite character is Obi Wan Kenobi -- and Padme... So, I try to make another one, with Obi Wan as the main character. Then, here it is...
Your reviews are more than welcome... :D
1
It was already midnight. The silvery full moon was watching from her fortress and enlightening the scenery down below. The deceitful river mirrored her false beauty, leaving her feeling narcissistic and thus, shimmered her luminosity much and much stronger. And no one should protest. Why should they? She had voluntarily gave what she solely had for the incompetents to be able to see the heartbreaking view lying that night in front of their eyes. Six horse-like graceful beasts lined up before a skilfully carved wooden tomb. Any individual crowding them looked appallingly at it, men took off their hats as they stepped closer to it, as, without a doubt, they understood it was the carriage for the death.
Yet, no helpless body was seen reposing in it. The beautiful lady that was supposedly lying there was still rested in a dimly lit confined chamber near the mausoleum. The last resort for friends and relatives to see, touch, and pray for the corpse before it was confined forever.
A hooded cloaked manly figure squeezed into the chamber. He trotted carefully so as to not disrupt the bundle he carried inside his cloak. The thing he bore lovingly seemed to understand the importance of this event and of not trying to interrupt it by wailing at the top of his lungs; just like babies always did. The baby boy moved not and muttered not, as if he understood, it was his mother's funeral. The man couldn't prevent himself from thinking, he is, indeed, a special boy.
Inside, he wasn't surprised to see the dead lady's parents and older sister still halting beside her body. The father put his hand on the mother's shoulder; tears on both his cheeks. The mother bit her lower lip, hands clutched together into fists. As strong a figure as the daughter. The sister was comforting a teenage girl beside her, probably her daughter. Still, it surprised him to see the petite girl standing next to all of them. Like the father, the girl had wet eyes and cheeks. Unlike the father, though, she was still sobbing. Her sobs were slow and gentle, but they were continuous. Yet, what separated her most from the others was the way she stood there alone, refusing sweet talks from the others. It was as if she wanted to sink in her own grief eternally and would rather be in wherever the dead lady was now in. And when the parents and sister exited, passing the man without even a slight notice, the petite girl was still there; crying, sobbing.
The man walked closer to the dead lady and finally saw what the parents –and the petite girl- had been seeing: The beautiful lady's serene air, the dark brown wavy hair of hers, the twinkling white daisies prettifying it, and the wooden necklace tying her pallid fingers. A gift from someone she loves – or she used to love, for she wasn't living anymore.
The man then decided it was the moment to accomplish the real reason of his visit. He unveiled his cloak slowly to unhide the baby boy; to reveal to him his mother. The boy popped out his wee head and feasted his eyes with the view of the wonderful woman who gave birth to him – and his twin sister. Indeed, he was a very special boy.
Something startled him and forced him to cover the boy once again. It was a voice, coming from the petite girl. The voice startled him, forced him to protect the child, and turned his gaze to the source of the voice. It was when he finally realised the same dark curvy brown hair, the alike lovely features, the similar way she brought herself. It was when he realised that the girl was Pooja, Padme Amidala's niece. She was even as tall as her aunt when he had first met her. And, in truth, she was now as old as the aunt when he had first met her.
The voice coming out of her was trembling and accompanied with broken sobs, "Are you the husband?"
Obi Wan felt his tongue numb. He didn't know how to respond. Should he lie by saying 'Yes'? Should he tell her the truth? But, will it hurt her if he had told her the truth; the truth that he wasn't the husband?
She wronged his silence as a confirmation. And Obi Wan took no action to correct her. Instead, he let her erase her other curiosities by letting her ask one more question,
"Is that my cousin?"
He was glad he didn't have to lie to be able to answer the question this time, "Yes."
"What's your name?"
"Obi Wan."
"You're Obi Wan?" A certain kind of light lingered for a moment in her eyes; the kind of light in one's eyes when one felt one was familiar with another person. "She used to talk about you," she continued, "how she scolded when I mispronounced you as Ben."
A time of silence visited them afterwards; silence they enjoyed for no reason. Obi Wan used it to contemplate whether he should leave when another question startled him, "Do you love her?"
He tried to think, will he lie? Or won't he? Then it occurred to him the right respond, Yes. And so he answered, "Yes." Yes, he loved his friend. His brother's wife. Once more, he sighed a relief sigh for he was glad, he didn't have to lie.
And as though she could read his previous mind, she, after hearing his truthful reply, pleaded, "Stay with me then. She would love to have people loving her beside her."
He felt thrilled for not leaving earlier.
---
The ceremony had just ended. And Obi Wan found himself standing beside –and consoling- little Pooja. They were beside Padme's body, now already inside the tomb. They still could see her face for it still left uncovered. He felt the movement of baby Luke inside his robe and before he knew it, he had faced the girl and firmly whispered to her, "Listen, it's going to be a little secret between us,
"Your aunt –and I-," he added, "are not supposed to have this baby. Because I'm a Jedi,
"When you wake up in the morning, everyone's going to tell you a different story, but always remember this as the truth: Jedi exist,
"Will you promise not to tell anyone?"
The girl was too taken aback to say anything, but she still managed to lift up her head before finally, she nodded.
Her nod was weak and unconvincing, and it was treacherous for Obi Wan to let anyone know his existence at this time of day. But somehow, he knew, he trusted her. That's why, smiling, he said to her, "Excellent."
Their conversation was broken when her mother called her name, beckoning her to walk with them behind the tomb. The last chance for them to accompany the woman they loved so dearly. With a last glance to Obi Wan,Pooja ran to them and, taking her mother and sister's hands, she walked away from him. When she didn't look back and her figure slowly started to disappear, Obi Wan knew, it was time for him to leave.
---
Since Obi Wan left the funeral that evening, he had pledged to live a life on his own. He had fulfilled his mission on bringing the boy to his uncle and aunt. Since then, even when he never appeared right in front of his eyes, he had never left the boy's side. He watched him grew up from a baby to an infant. And before he knew it, it had been 5 years since he left the funeral that evening.
It had been 5 years since he started living a life fully on his own.
He chose a house far away from any settlement so that no villager would bother to come up and pay a visit. Therefore, it was no wonder when they, perplexed of his obscure conduct, thought of him as odd and hence, crazy. They refused to befriend him; they ran away as he walked closer to them, as if he were some kind of a deadly disease. Not that he would mind. As he repeatedly said to himself, this is the kind of life he chose to live long long time ago.
It had been going on that way for 5 years, and he didn't expect it to change soon after.
He was wrong.
He knew he was wrong when, all of a sudden, the sandy door of his hut was knocked from outside.
He stood there inside. Bewildered. Who can it be? He sensed no evil Force from outside. Perhaps he should open the door. And that was what he did, he opened the door.
What revealed before him stung him to death, he thought time had elapsed backwards and took him 5 years earlier for the person knocking his door outside was…
"Padme?"
It took him another second to remind himself that the woman she named had already died, and it couldn't possibly her this woman he was now staring disbelievingly at. But…
"Why, General Kenobi," said the woman, interfering him from saying his own sentences, "I'm glad to know you haven't forgotten my aunt."