Disclaimer: Not mine. No characters are of my creation, and I'm just playing with them. This is MAD alternate universe, where Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padme are all approximately the same age. Because it would amuse me that they be so. This doesn't seem to fall into any particular timeline at all.
To Be A Jedi
Training lightsabres sizzled as they connected, even though they were only strong enough to sting, not to injure. Just enough of a jolt to make the receiver not want it to happen again. That was the reason the two boys fought with such a vengeance – neither wanted to feel the pain or the humiliation of losing to the other.
Sweat slid down sixteen year old Obi-Wan Kenobi's forehead as his gray eyes followed every tiny move of his opponent's body. He saw the flash of the 'sabre moving up with a flash of green light, momentarily illuminating the determined face of it's bearer. Obi-Wan met it with his own weapon, his own face lit by it's blue light.
The pace of the battle became more rapid, and Obi-Wan was forced back across the floor of the sparring ring. His breath came sharper, and he began to lose his concentration. It seemed as though everything had gone black, like the room, and not even the lightsabres illuminated anything any longer.
"Killing point," a voice said, breaking into Obi-Wan's mind.
The lights came on, and with them came Obi-Wan's sight, his awareness. His eyes slowly focused on the Padawan kneeling on the floor, the Padawan with one hand clasped over the side of his neck.
"Padawan Kenobi is the victor," Jedi master Adi Gallia stated, though it was obvious to most watching. The crowd around them cheered. "He will advance to the winners bracket."
Spectators cheered. Obi-Wan's opponent rose to his feet, and bowed.
"They will have the opportunity to face each other again," Master Gallia said, "should Padawan Skywalker prevail in all his remaining matches."
Obi-Wan saw the barely hidden rage as the other Padawan strode from the ring. As Obi-Wan himself walked from the ring, he saw out of the corner of his eye the other Padawan with his master. The other boy had his head bowed as his master spoke.
Obi-Wan silently surveyed Anakin Skywalker as he waited for his next round to begin. The other boy was taller, broader than Obi-Wan, and very blond. Obi-Wan could clearly remember when the other Padawan had been brought into the crèche. He had been in a class with master Yoda, only six years old. Masters Jinn and Windu had brought a tanned little boy into the class. The entire crèche had stared.
Bringing a child as old as Anakin to be trained at the temple was unprecedented. Even at six, Obi-Wan had known that. But the blue-eyed little boy was taken in for training, and taken as a Padawan by Jedi Master Mace Windu when he was eleven.
That was a sore spot for Obi-Wan. He had not been taken until he was almost thirteen, and then very reluctantly by Qui-Gon Jinn, the man who had first brought Anakin into the temple. Obi-Wan knew that he was more disciplined than the other Padawan, more learned in the way of the Jedi, yet he was almost passed over completely.
Yet Anakin had been chosen before him. It always made Obi-Wan a little jealous, a feeling that he desperately tried to push away, tried to make disappear. And now he'd won in an exhibition match against the other Padawan.
Anakin sat down lotus on the ground beside the sparring ring, twisting his braid around his finger. Obi-Wan had always wondered why Anakin's braid was so short. But he knew that it was not his business to ask.
"Well done, my Padawan," Master Qui-Gon Jinn said as Obi-Wan settled himself onto the bench beside his master. Qui-Gon slumped comfortably against the wall behind. Obi-Wan did not. He was convinced that anything like that made him look shorter, especially beside his Master.
"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon's head turned sharply away from Obi-Wan then. Obi-Wan looked up at him in curiosity. "Is there something wrong, Master?"
"The Senate party from Naboo approaches," Qui-Gon sighed. "Senator Naberrie seems to be on a desperate search for a suitable man to marry his fifteen-year-old daughter," the Jedi Master explained. "He looks to snare a Jedi, though that is frowned upon."
"If not against the code," Obi-Wan said.
"No, in this case, I think it would be diplomacy, in part." Qui-Gon said.
Obi-Wan made a face. "Master, please tell me that I am not one of the Jedi that the man is considering," Obi-Wan said, a pained tone seeping into his voice. Qui-Gon had the urge to laugh.
"Unfortunately so, my Padawan."
Qui-Gon rose to his feet as a dark-haired man approached. When Obi-Wan stood, he realized with some satisfaction that the man was relatively short. Obi-Wan noticed that he was a bit taller with some amount of pride. Qui-Gon radiated feelings of amusement. A very petite girl walked next to the man, very obviously his father. The Senator, a man that Obi-Wan recognized.
"Good afternoon, Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi," the Senator said. Both Jedi bowed slightly. "Master Jinn, I believe you have met my companions."
"It is a pleasure to see them again, I must say," Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. Lying for diplomacy?
"Your Padawan, I believe, has not?" the Senator said.
"I have not had the opportunity, sir," Obi-Wan spoke up.
"This is my assistant, Ruwee Naberrie, and his daughter Padme," the Senator said. Obi-Wan shook the man's hand, but was unsure how to handle the daughter. He simply smiled at her.
"It is a pleasure to meet you," he said. The girl blushed lightly across the tops of her cheeks. Obi-Wan was shocked to find that she was embarrassed to be there with her father. She turned her head to look at the sparring ground.
"Master Jinn, would you be opposed to my suggesting that my daughter remain with you the rest of the tournament? I fear for her safety, and I would have her in the hands of the Jedi," Ruwee said.
"It would be my pleasure to watch over her, though I fear I will not have time to show her around with my Padawan competing in the tournament," Qui-Gon said.
"Your last opponent competes again," Padme said to Obi-Wan. Her voice was soft, and pretty. Obi-Wan surveyed her briefly before turning to watch the match.
~`~
Anakin swung his lightsabre in a fierce arc at his opponent, then abruptly switched the direction of the swing, backing away and throwing the other boy off guard. The other boy stumbled, and Anakin rushed in, slashing out with a vengeance.
"Killing point," Master Gallia said. Anakin deactivated his 'sabre and bowed stiffly to the other boy. "Match to Skywalker."
Anakin strode from the ring and was met by his master, who was looking fiercely unhappy. "Anakin, how many times must you be told that you cannot use rage to fight your battles? You must be calm. Anger will bring you to the power of the Dark Side more often than not." Mace Windu said. Anakin could tell when he was annoyed. He spoke in long sentences and made Anakin feel like he was no more than a mere child in the creche.
"I'm sorry, Master," Anakin said, his face hot, embarrassed that once again, he did not meet his Master's expectations.
"I know that you cannot promise me that you will not allow it to happen again, as I would so wish you to," Mace said. "But you can promise me that you will at least endeavor to keep your behavior that of a Jedi, and make sure that your conduct is becoming of your occupation in life."
"Yes, Master," Anakin said. He took a deep breath and let it out, knowing that he would always fail to meet his master's expectations. He looked out across the arena, his eyes hardly seeing anything. Obi-Wan was flirting with the Naboo Senator's Assistant's daughter. The pretty one. Anakin snorted. He almost felt sorry for Obi-Wan.
But he didn't, not quite. Obi-Wan was a good Jedi, even if he wasn't as talented as Anakin. He was more capable of keeping his emotions in check than Anakin would probably ever be. Anaking wondered if that was the only difference between them, sometimes. But then, he knew that Obi-Wan was not as in tune with the Living Force as a Jedi should be. Anakin didn't know what that was like. He was almost a part of the Living Force, and it was a stress upon him that he wished that he did not have.
Anakin wrapped his Padawan braid around his finger, and a sharp pang struck him in the gut. It was still so short.
He sighed again. He remembered the pain of the incident all too well, a fourteen-year-old boy in captivity, chained and blindfolded. He had been beaten, tortured. Mace told him that when they had finally found him, he had retreated so deep within himself to bear the pain that he had been in the infirmary weeks before he'd come around.
He still bore the scars and the short braid where they'd chopped his off. Scars crossed his shoulders, all the way down his back ending just above the backs of his knees. There were burn scars on his stomach. Yet, Anakin could remember none of what had happened. For two years, he had tried to remember, yet had pushed it so deeply within himself that he couldn't bring the memories forward. He did not ask his master to tell him.
His fingers gripped the hilt of the lighsabre in his hand. Obi-Wan was back in the ring again, his movements fluid and perfect, something Anakin's would never be, not until he grew into his too-long limbs. He hoped that he would become as graceful as his master one day. The smaller, more compact and confident Obi-Wan moved perfectly to defeat his opponent in the ring.
"Killing point," Master Gallia said. "Match to Kenobi."
Anakin grunted in annoyance.