Obi-wan

It had been seven years now, seven years since his only family had been lost and forgotten. Seven years since that day when his whole life was swept out from under his feet and his old persona ceased to exist.

As far as anyone who might have known otherwise, they would never think to look for him here, in the back worlds of the universe. He was still the same – cream Jedi robes tucked beneath a dark, non-descript cloak of dark brown, his skills elevated rather than declined by the time in exile, protective to a fault of his unknowing wards. His eyes were perhaps sadder than before, but still held that steady honesty that threw his unfortunate opponents completely off guard.

As far as an observer would see, however, he was simply another desert interloper, slipping in and out of their lives almost unnoticed and somehow managing to defy the harsh conditions alone and win. A hermit, he was called by those who bothered to find a name for it. A wizard, said others, rather wary of the Sand People's careful avoidance of his home. Old, he was called by that first wandering child who had stumbled upon him. Off-handed, half-hearted interest, swept away in an instant by the cares of everyday life.

Those who knew the truth he could count on one hand: his old mentor, the Alderaanian senator, the surrogate parents of the child he guarded. Even his apprentice's former wife was unknowing… she, like many others, had feared the information. Those who simply knew he still lived were also few: the traitorous Chancellor, his own former apprentice, a few higher ranking officers of the steadily darkening leadership.

But the information was of little consequence. Here he was, unnoticed, blending in with the inhabitants of this desert world. Here he made his last stand, guiding his last apprentice from a distance.

Here he was, and here he would stay. Until the time had come.