Oathbreaker

A/N: Written for Eruri Week 2015.

The very idea of having a family was forbidden. At least, as far as the Jedi Order was concerned. It was an unspoken rule among the Jedi, a taboo. It was one of those things that even the mere utterance of would cause even the strongest of knights to glare. It was, in many ways, as analogous to the Dark Side as duty and honor was to the Light Side. A Jedi, after all, had to be above attachment, above temptation, above sin.

His name was Levi. He had grown up in the sands of Tatooine, beholden to no one and caring only for two droids that he had saved from being corroded by the ever-shifting sands and fixed up until they not only shone, but functioned better than they had ever functioned before: a golden humanoid named Farlan, and an astromech droid named Isabel. His mother had perished as a result of some unnamed disease, and he had been living with his uncle, Kenny Ackerman, by the time the wayward starship bearing the people who would change his life forever landed in the sands of Tatooine.

The first man to step off was so obviously a Jedi, Levi was shocked that he was not attacked on sight. Jedi, though revered and respected throughout the galaxy, were not welcome on Tatooine. Tatooine was a cesspool of a planet, filled to the brim with criminals and those too poor to make a living on anything, save scrap dealing or moisture farming. The man, who Levi would later learn was called Jedi Master Dot Pixis amongst his brethren, had taken one look around the place before clapping his hands together and calling out to those within the ship, then pulling out what looked like some sort of fancy canteen and taking a long drink.

Honestly, this man was just begging to get mugged.

Next to emerge was what looked like a woman, but could also have been a man, and honestly, Levi wouldn't have given to shits about who or what they were, if it were not for the fact that their voice was so damn annoying. Bubbly and cheerful, with long hair caught up in a high ponytail and a pair of glasses that looked to large or too small or too shitty for their face, this person was obviously part-Gungan, at the very least, because no other species in the universe could ever be so annoying, save perhaps the Ewoks, because their constant shedding would drive Levi mad. Hange, as Levi later learned, was a scientist by trade, and was responsible for engineering just about everything, from the guns the clone troopers bore to the powerful lightsabers wielded by the Jedi Knights.

Last to emerge were a blonde pair, with the girl's arm held in the crook of that which belonged to another Jedi. The girl was certainly pretty enough, with angelic features and clear blue eyes. She carried herself gracefully and seemed to float down the steps of the starship as she exited, though there was an obviously naive quality in her face, most likely due to her great youth, and it was all too obvious to him from the way that her eyes flitted around the planet nervously to the very color of her skin that she was likely some sort of lofty noble who had never ventured two steps outside her palace in Whatthefuckistan because she shared the same fear all nobles seemed to fear: the same air that commoners breathed.

There were more people piling out, of course, because no doubt, whoever the noblewoman was probably had some kind of retinue of disposable servants and meatshields, but if Levi were to be honest with himself, any details of those people blurred and fluttered away as soon as he turned his attention to the blonde man escorting the girl down.

He was tall. Quite tall, in fact. Levi liked to think that his rather (more than) modest five foot, four inches was reasonable enough, but this man towered over him by at least a foot, and only seemed to grow taller as he neared the desert sands. His hair, spun gold and molded to perfection, glowed with such a light that would have made even Tatooine's twin suns green with envy. His eyes, sharp and blue even from this distance, seemed to speak of something much deeper than the mere life of meditation and balance that the Jedi loved to preach about; these were the eyes of empires, of tumultuous battles and midnight rides, of passionate nights and glorious revolution. These were the eyes of a man who was a man only in name; rather, he was an empire, destined to rise, yet also destined to fall.

He was the most beautiful creature Levi had ever seen.

The rest had been a blur, a strange whorl of color and sound. The blonde Jedi had introduced himself as Erwin Smith- a dull name for such a handsome face. The girl, who they attempted to pass off as some peasant named Krista, was being escorted to who the fuck gives a shit where and they needed parts for their ship and blah, blah, blah.

There had been talking, too much of it. Hange attempted to bargain for parts while Pixis sat in the corner somewhere and drank, though it was obvious from his gaze that he remained sober, despite the amount he consumed, and he was still ever alert, waiting to see if there would be an attack or something of that nature. (After all, you could never be too careful on this desolate planet). Krista sat and looked pretty, as seemed to be the neverending, highly stressful job of the noble class, and Erwin…

Erwin had taken it upon himself to walk up to Levi and strike up a conversation, as though he was actually trying to make an effort to pretend to care about what Levi was doing or how he met Farlan and Isabel and how he had learned to race pods and blah, blah, blah. Levi had, naturally, shut down every single one of his attempts to start a conversation, because honestly, he had better things to do than drool over some stupid blonde Hercules all day, but Erwin was persistent. He kept talking, kept pointing things out, and even dared to help Levi fix up his pod, all while keeping a constant stream of words going, as if they were supposed to mean something beyond the same old brainless prattle.

"You're obviously very good with your hands," Erwin had remarked as Levi climbed over his pod and began making a few adjustments. The Jedi was leaning against one of the worktables, his posture lazy, but his eyes as sharp as ever. "Did you build this yourself?"

Levi had given him a noncommittal grunt and instead strove to find these adjustments as interesting as possible. There was no need to be distracted by the smooth baritone of Erwin's voice, or the way his unwavering gaze always seemed to center on-

God, what kind of pervert would ever be interested in a scrap boy's ass anyways?

"Did you ever, perhaps, consider leaving this planet?" Erwin continued. There was a definite note of interest in his voice, though his tone was casual. Isabel and Farlan both picked it up right away, and the two droids stopped their work for a moment to listen. Levi, for his part, suddenly found hammering out a dent to be an extremely interesting activity.

"I don't have a ship," he said curtly, and it was true; pods, at least those built on Tatooine, were not made to take the vacuum of space.

"You can find and fix a ship," Erwin countered, picking up a tool and playing with it a little. It floated a few inches above his hand, a testament to his mastery over The Force, and spun in a few circles before landing back in Erwin's large palm. "Just like you found and fixed these droids." once again, the tool floated above his hand. "Many ships land in Tatooine. Most of them get stripped and reused as scrap." even from his position, Levi felt the blue-eyed gaze return to him. "It is a waste of potential."

Levi had been unsure if the man was talking about him, or the ships.

It was perhaps some sort of inevitability that the Jedi would be unable to pay the price Kenny demanded for the parts they would need. As was the Jedi way, they did not threaten or bluster or attempt to attack, though it was quite obvious that if they didn't get off this planet soon, they would die here. Jedi were not welcome, after all, and little Miss My-name-is-totally-Krista-even-though-it's-not was all too valuable an asset to not be the target for ransom or slavery.

Funnily enough, it had been Erwin that suggested a solution: Levi would race in the next pod race, and the Jedi would place a bet on him so large that it would more than pay off what Kenny demanded if they should win. Naturally, everyone was all for that solution, everyone except Isabel and Farlan. They had protested (well, Farlan protested, Isabel mostly just squeaked and squealed) about how dangerous it was, about how Levi's pod was not ready, and about how masterful though he was, he was at a great disadvantage because pod racers were normally not human, and having multiple hands or faces or mouths or tentacles would be more beneficial this and that and blah, blah, blah.

Levi had agreed, surprising everyone in the room. Here was the man who let no other cow him, who could kill a man as easily as he could wield a knife. Here was the one beholden to no one, who cared only about his droids, and who defied all orders, even when he was beaten to the ground.

Something in those blue eyes told him to trust the man who bore them. He listened.

The pod race, like all of the time before that, was a blur. Levi had lost control several times, and had nearly died towards the beginning, but something kept him going. It was the promise of blue eyes, of sun-kissed muscles that rippled with every movement, of empires that stayed his course. Thousands of kilometers and too many explosions to count later, his pod hobbled across the finish line. And, when the ship took off from the sands of Tatooine later that week, it carried three new passengers: the droids, Farlan and Isabel, and of course, Levi himself.

His induction into the Jedi Order had been mercifully swift, and punctuated only by the protests of one Master Niles Dok. Of course, it was unprecedented for someone from such a lowly planet to be given into the order so quickly, but as soon as Levi demonstrated his rather unusual connection to The Force, a terrified Master Dok agreed from his position on the ceiling where Levi held him by the thinnest thread of The Force, amidst Pixis' loud guffaws and the rest of the Council's silence.

By some twist of fate (or perhaps, a certain someone's machinations), Erwin became his teacher, and it was under his tutelage that Levi truly learned what it meant to be one with The Force. The days he spent beneath the older man's watchful blue eyes melded into weeks and months and years, and as time moved on, the raging storm within Levi, as The Force enjoyed manifesting itself as, slowed and gently curved into a gentle river, that flowed from the very tips of Levi's fingertips and curved at his command. He learned how to lift, push, swing, and- in every sense of the word- fly. He learned how to swing a lightsaber so naturally that it was an extension of his own body, a whirling pinwheel of light in the midst of a great battle. Queen Historia, as Krista was later revealed to be named, often commended him on his prowess, though he had eyes and ears only for his Jedi Master, Erwin Smith.

He was unsure when they shared their first kiss. Perhaps it was when they were visiting Hange's home city, and they had found a moment to themselves. Perhaps it was during the Clone Wars, in the lull of a battle, when they were unsure if they would make it out alive. Perhaps, even, it was during one of those terribly boring noble ceremonies, during which Levi had sneaked away, and Erwin followed, and Levi later dismissed the state of his clothes and the lovebites on his neck to a concerned Farlan and Isabel as merely the results of training.

He fell into Erwin's Smith's arms and drank up his presence like a veritable drug, addicted and unable to let go. They trained as they always had, yes, but then there were the nights spent in secrets, in the throes of searing passion and sweet nothings, with nothing but the stars themselves to see them. This was horrid, it was forbidden by every aspect of the Jedi Code, but never could he ever bring himself to let go of his golden Jedi Knight, of his conqueror, of his master.

This was what Heaven was.

It was impossible, it was unthinkable. And yet, somehow, all Levi could think of doing at this moment was laughing. His laugh would be bitter, no doubt, and cold, but that was the way Erwin liked it. Or at least, that was what he had always told Levi.

He stood before Levi, clad in his Jedi robes, lightsaber at his side. It was activated, yes, but pointed down, at the ground, relaxed. Of course, Levi would be a fool if he let his guard down now; a lightsaber, in the hands of a Jedi Master, could become deadly in the matter of seconds. One pointed at the ground could very well become one ran through a man's neck before anyone could blink, if the Master should so choose.

"I see you have a new lightsaber," Levi answered, and thankfully, nothing in his tone gave anything away. He sounded cool, relaxed as always, despite the tension in the air. Then again, when was there not some sort of tension between him and Erwin?

A smile appeared on the other man's lips (Oh, how many lies had passed through them?) as he swung the saber around. The swings were experimental, not hostile, so Levi's own lightsaber remained, unactivated, in his hand. "I wouldn't call it 'new', Levi. This was passed down to me from my father and to him from his father before him and so on and so forth."

"Looks pretty shitty to me," Levi answered, crossing his arms. He wrinkled his nose slightly as his gaze turned to the handle. "Could use a new handle. And it's too bright. Any clone worth his salt would see you coming a mile away."

Erwin laughed. "I'll speak to Hange about that, then. If anyone knows her way around the little nuances of a saber, it's her."

"So, you got to her too, huh?"

"She was always on my side, Levi," Erwin mused, allowing the tip of his lightsaber to drop to the ground again. "As is Mike and some others. Believe it or not, some of us want to see a change around here."

For a moment, Levi said nothing, merely closing his eyes. Then, he opened them, meeting Erwin's blue-eyed gaze, the same gaze that had captured him so many years ago. "And Queen Historia?"

Erwin shrugged. "Not on this planet, to be sure. I believe Ymir might have something to do with it." he shook his head. "But I don't care about any of that. She'll be eliminated soon enough." another smile. "Let's talk about you."

This time, Levi laughed, low and bitter. "What about me? There's nothing to talk about. Why don't you just kill me here and now, since you've already done that to at least half the Order?"

Once again, Erwin shook his head. "You and I both know that I can't do that, Levi." three unspoken words hung in the air, but neither Levi or Erwin said them. They didn't need to. Instead, Erwin deactivated his lightsaber and offered it to Levi, handle first. "Join me?"

He remembered those passionate nights, those sweet nothings. He could still see clearly those heated battles, those times when he had felt so, so, so close, but didn't fall, for the sake of his Master. He could feel the river of the force stirring once again, expanding into the sea, and ready for the oncoming storm. He saw the promise in those eyes: the vow of empires, of great battles, of love beyond anything he could have ever hoped for.

He saw the family he would never have, and the empire they would build together.

He activated the lightsaber. The blood red blade extended upwards, reaching towards the lofty ceiling above. The light cast shadows upon the faces of both men, throwing into relief their mutual sharp features, the fire burning in Erwin's eyes, and the dark void of Levi's own gaze. Outside, he could hear the screams of civilians as battle drones and starships descended from the skies, as clone troopers turned their weapons on them and as blood painted the streets in a million different colors. This was horror, this was madness, this was against everything the Jedi Code had ever taught him.

"I trust you, Erwin."