Chapter 35

Disclaimer: If you haven't noticed that this doesn't belong to me after 34 long chapters, then this last disclaimer probably won't do much good, either.

oOo

The sun had risen a handbreadth above the horizon by the time Obi-Wan could finally muster enough determination to return to his room. He shakily wiped the telling tear tracks from his face and then stood rather unsteadily. The room around him seemed to tilt at an unnatural angle and the ground felt much wobblier than solid stone had any right to be. The new Knight blinked a few times, and reluctantly the world righted itself.

Obi-Wan decided that he should go and find a bed as long as he was still conscious enough to do so. Exhaustion had finally overtaken him and wrapped him in a thick blanket of numbness that seemed to muffle every sound and blurred his vision. Thankfully, though, it also silenced the screams of his torn heart. He felt light-headed, as if he were walking through a dream rather than this cruel reality. So he trudged through the palace. It was still too early for everyone but the most morning-loving persons to be up and awake, and so the hallways Obi-Wan traversed were still mostly deserted.

They were not completely deserted, though.

oOo

Superstitia clutched her chest just above her madly hammering heart. Her breath still came in short, shallow bursts, and she was trembling like a leaf in autumn. As soon as she dared move again, she ran straight back to her rooms, as quickly as her old legs would allow. Still panting, she closed the door behind her, relieved that she could shut out the scary apparition she had just met in the hallways. She was definitely getting too old for this. In all the sixty-three years of her life, she had never seen a ghost, and wouldn't have thought that any were haunting the hallways of Naboo Palace.

She had served as the chief-of-wardrobe for many a Queen, and her duties required her to select and prepare the dress her sovereign was to wear each day, and that also meant she had to be the first one up and about every morning. She was one of the best and took pride in her ability to always correctly assess the degree of elaborateness of dress that was required for every occasion.

But today as she had walked through the hallways to the wing of the palace that housed the sadly depleted collection of royal clothes (the Neimoidians had wreaked considerable havoc on the regal wardrobe), she had met a ghost. A real ghost. A real ghost! She still couldn't believe it.

Gradually, her madly hammering heart slowed to a more healthy speed. Superstitia walked over to her husband who was still sleeping peacefully.

"Rea-Son! Rea-Son, wake up," she said, shaking her sleeping spouse awake.

"What is it, Superstitia?" her husband of over forty years mumbled sleepily, his face still pressed against the pillow.

"Rea-Son, I… I've seen a ghost," she gasped, still shaken by the eerie apparition she had met in the hallway.

"Don't be silly, darling," Rea-Son grumbled, ever the sensible one, "there are no such things as ghosts."

"But there are," Superstitia insisted, "I just met one."

"You could not possibly meet one," Rea-Son countered, slowly growing more alert. "There aren't any."

"But I just saw one. I really did! I was just walking along the corridors of the palace like I do every day when I saw him. He must have been a ghost, because I don't think any living person could possibly look that pale and wan without fainting from lack of blood. And he didn't appear to be walking at all; it seemed more like he was floating along the corridor without even touching the floor. His feet didn't make a sound, either. It was a ghostly silence," Superstitia said and shivered from the memory.

"And you wake me with tales of ghosts who wander the halls of the palace just because someone walks quietly? And in the broad daylight, at that? If there really were ghosts, wouldn't they be supposed to only appear at night?"

"Well, then there must be more than just one kind of ghost, mustn't there?" Superstitia snapped in exasperation. "And this particular one can walk in daylight, it seems. He wasn't even transparent at all, as spirits are supposed to be, but looked rock-solid. And now that I come to think of it, he wasn't a spooky kind of ghost, either."

Rea-Son wanted to say that maybe that was because whoever his dear wife had met hadn't in fact been a ghost, but from many years of marriage he had learned that it was unwise indeed to cross her when she was in that mood, so he curbed his tongue. Better to simply last it out.

Rea-Son grunted noncommittally, and Superstitia took that as encouragement to continue.

"No, I think he was more like a lost spirit, sadly wandering the halls of this palace mourning whatever it was he lost. There was such sadness I his eyes," Superstitia continued, and her husband knew that she was about to regale him with another of her hopelessly romantic and utterly unrealistic fantasies. But he didn't mind, seeing as he had quite enjoyed his wife's romantic side when they had been younger.

Superstitia's eyes took on a faraway look as she speculated about the origins of a ghost haunting Theed Palace.

"I bet he lived a very long time ago. He wore such strange, old-fashioned clothes, and the cut of his hair was all unfashionable, too. But I suppose in his time, he must have been a handsome young prince who came here to marry a beautiful young queen. Something must have happened to leave this wraith to haunt the Palace. Probably an evil competitor who also wanted to marry the Queen had him killed, and the Queen died of heartbreak shortly after. Since then, the spirit of this strange prince is wandering these halls, searching for his beloved betrothed but never finding her. Oh, it's so sad!" Superstitia ended with a content sigh, glad to have unravelled the mystery of this sad apparition.

Rea-Son simply shook his head in amused exasperation. His dear Superstitia was always so melodramatic when it came to love stories. It was much more likely that one of the servants had passed her in the hallway, looking a bit drawn from having to get up so early, and that the quiet approach and sudden 'inexplicable' appearance around a corner had startled his overly imaginative wife into thinking she had met an actual ghost.

Neither ever found out just how wrong they were, but Superstitia spread the story of the sad young prince's demise and ensuing existence as a ghost, and over time the sad legend spread amongst the servants of the palace. After some time, other people claimed to have seen the wraith, too, and the tales spread until it became a generally acknowledged fact that a ghost haunted Theed Palace.

oOo

Obi-Wan carefully walked along the corridors, concentrating on first setting one foot in front of the other and then the other one in front of the first instead of moving both feet at once. He had tried to do that earlier, and the results had been not exactly pleasant. He ignored the old woman standing frozen with shock in an adjacent hallway, staring at him with wide eyes. It took him ages to get to his room, but if maybe he took a route that was less than direct and if he passed the same ugly work of art more than once, he was much too tired to notice.

Finally, Obi-Wan found the small apartment the Queen had assigned to him. He opened the door and staggered to his sleepcouch. In the last moment, he noticed that it wasn't his sleepcouch at all, since a mop of sandy hair peeked from beneath all the covers that could possibly have been in the room. For a moment, Obi-Wan just stood there, uncomprehending and wondering if he had chosen the wrong door before he remembered that as his Padawan, Anakin would naturally stay with him. He turned around to the other sleepcouch which Anakin had stripped of its covers – it seemed the boy was perpetually cold – and didn't even bother to take off his boots before he flopped down on the mattress face-down and was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

oOo

It seemed Obi-Wan had barely closed his eyes when someone insistently shook his shoulder and shouted his name.

"Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, get up!" that someone shouted, yanking at his sleeve.

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. It was late morning and the sun shone brightly trough the tall window into the spacious room. It was Anakin who stood next to his bed, looking timid and uncertain about whether shaking one's Jedi Master awake was suitable behaviour. The shy expression was quickly replaced by a barely concealed smile, though, when Anakin looked at Obi-Wan's face which showed red lines from sleeping on it.

"Yes, Anakin?" Obi-Wan mumbled into the pillow, still battling sleep. He dimly remembered having a nightmare in which a dark warrior killed Qui-Gon... but suddenly a painful stab in his chest reminded him that it had not been a nightmare at all. For a moment he had to fight the rising tears before he turned to Anakin.

"Erm, Mister Obi-Wan, sir," Anakin stammered, unsure how to address Obi-Wan now that he wasn't simply Obi-Wan any longer but his new Master.

"Just call me Obi-Wan," the young Jedi instructed Anakin. He didn't feel comfortable being addressed as 'sir' at all, and to be called "mister" seemed downright ridiculous to him.

Anakin's face brightened considerably now that he could talk to Obi-Wan without dreading to make a social gaffe.

"Obi-Wan, it's already morning, and we have to get ready for the parade."

"Huh? Parade? Which parade?" Obi-Wan asked, puzzled as to what Anakin was referring to.

"Yes, the parade. Padmé – erm, I mean Queen Amidala has invited us to stand in a place of honour in the victory parade, and she will make peace with the Gungans. But the parade starts in two hours, and I haven't even had any breakfast yet," Anakin finished, all but whining.

"Oh," Obi-Wan said somewhat lamely. "All right."

Obi-Wan got up and straightened his clothes. He fixed Anakin up with some breakfast and then retreated to the refresher to take a quick, cold shower to help him get properly awake. Out of habit, his hand went behind his right ear to fix his Padawan braid only to find this symbol of his apprenticeship gone.

But this also reminded him there was another apprentice without a braid: Anakin's haircut still looked like someone had put a pot over the boy's head and cut off any hair that still showed – that was not the proper haircut for a Padawan. Searching the cabinet in the bathroom, he found a pair of scissors to cut Anakin's hair with. The boy was still happily munching his breakfast, but gave Obi-Wan a shy smile when he spotted him. Obi-Wan answered with a hesitant smile himself.

"So, are you enjoying your breakfast, Anakin?" he inquired somewhat awkwardly. He had no idea what to talk about with his apprentice.

"Well, it doesn't taste as nice as my mom's pancakes," Anakin munched, "but it's all right."

When Anakin finished the last bites, Obi-Wan suggested: "So, let's make you a real Jedi, shall we?"

Enthusiastically, Anakin jumped up from his chair and excitedly ran over to Obi-Wan.

"Yeahie! I'll become a real Jedi! Uhm, but how do we do it?"

"Well, first we shall cut your hair, and then you will need the proper clothes," Obi-Wan answered.

Warily, Anakin eyed the scissors in Obi-Wan's hand. "What kind of haircut is proper for a Padawan? 'Cause I don't want to look like that guy on the Council afterwards."

"Which of those 'guys on the Council' are you talking about, Anakin?" Obi Wan asked, one eyebrow drawn up both in warning and amusement.

"I don't really care which one, they all have bad haircuts," Anakin answered nonchalantly.

That earned him a soft chuckle from Obi-Wan.

"No, your haircut will look no worse and no better than the one I sported until yesterday. And don't let the august Masters of the Council hear your assessment of their hairdos," Obi-Wan said.

Anakin still frowned, but he didn't protest as Obi-Wan cut off his hair, only leaving a strand behind his right ear and enough for the lock at the back of his head. When he was finished, Anakin doubtfully tugged at the thin lock of hair behind his ear.

"This isn't going to make much of an impressive braid," Anakin remarked.

"Oh, we can do something about that," Obi-Wan said, searching for his own braid somewhere in his pockets. Carefully, he undid one end of it the coppery tresses and cut off a short length. Anakin looked on with fascination as Obi-Wan wove the red hair into his own blond curls so that the tip of the braid just brushed his shoulder. Then, almost reverently, Obi-Wan undid one of the beads on the cut braid in his hand and fastened in onto Anakin's.

"This one has been a gift from Qui-Gon when I became his Padawan," Obi-Wan almost whispered. "Now, I give it to you so that you also have something to remember him by."

Anakin reverently touched the single faded bead at the end of this braid made from both his and Obi-Wan's hair.

"Thank you," he whispered back, not wanting to destroy the solemn mood.

For a moment, Anakin thought he saw something like wistfulness and sadness steal over Obi-Wan's features as the young Jedi stared at the braid he still held. But then Anakin blinked, and the expression was gone, leaving behind the constantly blank face Obi-Wan had been wearing since Qui-Gon's death.

The moment was broken by a smart rap on their door. A servant of the palace had come, bringing the Jedi tunics for Anakin with regards from the Council, and reminded them that "If attend, the parade you will, hurry you must, or late, you will be." It was clearly a message from Yoda telling them to get moving, which they did. Obi-Wan ushered Anakin into the fresher to take a shower and wash off all the hairs that had fallen into Anakin's collar and had started itching terribly after some time. Obi-Wan heard the water being turned on, thankful that Anakin didn't make any trouble or raise any objection. But when the water was turned off again exactly 2.7 standard seconds later, Obi-Wan didn't think this a good sign.

"Anakin, why is the water not running?" he asked through the door.

"Because I'm already finished showering, and I used up more water than I have in the previous nine years of my existence in the process," Anakin's reply came back, muffled a bit by the door. "Just imagine, there's water coming out of the wall! This is not natural."

"Well, to be honest, on most planets, water coming out of the wall is perfectly normal, at least in the fresher, and I fear you'll have to get used to it," Obi-Wan told a baffled Anakin. "And I fear that the degree of cleanness you gained by this minuscule shower is not acceptable for a royal parade. I fear it may not be acceptable at all. So either you get back into the shower and wash with soap and all, or I will have to dunk you into the nearest pond, and I'm not sure whether the Queen's personal goldfish would like that."

"You would do that?" Anakin's confusion and disbelief were clearly audible in his voice.

"No, of course not, it was a joke," Obi-Wan answered with a sigh, wondering why Anakin never took him serious except when he didn't mean to be taken serious.

"Oh, okay." Anakin's answer still sounded unsure. There was some rummaging and the water was turned back on and immediately turned back off.

"So what is this soap-thingy you were talking about?" Anakin asked from inside the fresher.

oOo

They were nearly too late for the parade. Obi-Wan was rushing through the deserted palace towards the broad avenue where the festivities were to take place, dragging Anakin behind him. The Queen wanted to thank them for their assistance in the liberation of Naboo, and not being there was simply not an option – if it had been, Obi-Wan personally would have opted to stay away. So they arrived just in time to earn themselves disapproving glares from the assembled Jedi High Council, whose members were also to stand next to the Queen during the ceremony. As soon as they had taken their places, the whole throng of handmaidens, Jedi, dignitaries and all the inevitable politicians fell in step behind Queen Amidala.

Anakin was dazzled by the pure white of the Queen's gown, which was elaborately decorated and resplendent with a million tiny pearls and layers upon layers of shiny white silk. He couldn't help but think that she really did look like an angel, only that angels probably didn't wear all that much paint in their faces, and the backs of their clothes probably weren't adorned with what looked like the top part of an umbrella. But despite the silly umbrella-thing fixed to her back, Anakin thought Padmé couldn't look any more beautiful.

Slowly, they walked out onto a wide platform at the head of the wide avenue that led towards the palace's main entrance. On both sides of a wide path that led straight towards them, more people than Anakin had ever seen were cheering for their Queen and waving colourful ribbons. They came to stand in the exact middle of the plaza, Anakin and Obi-Wan as "heroes of Naboo", as they had been termed, standing in the place of honour to the immediate right of the Queen.

The Queen and the newly elected Chancellor both gave a speech, thanking the brave people of Naboo for holding out against the overpowering might of the Trade Federation and the Jedi and Anakin for their courageous and valiant help in freeing their home planet. They also expressed their sorrow about Qui-Gon's unfortunate demise in varying degrees of sincerity.

Anakin was positively basking in all the applause and laudation, his smile stretched from one ear to the other. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, had never been comfortable with being the focus of attention. He didn't mind the short-lived and superficial admiration of Naboo's citizens so much, but the fervent stares of appraisal the handmaidens sent his way were almost frightening in their intensity, and they made him want to shift uncomfortably. It was not uncommon for a successful mission to end in celebration, and Obi-Wan was at best not opposed to it or at least didn't mind. But the empty space where his Master used to stand was a cruel reminder that this mission had not been a complete success. Usually, Qui-Gon would ride the heady waves of revelry that rippled through the Living Force on occasions like that, growing more intoxicated that mere alcohol could ever make him, and without the deleterious aftereffects, too. But now, instead of his Master, his Padawan stood next to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan roughly shoved these thoughts out of his mind. None of this was Anakin's fault, and he didn't want to spoil the occasion for his apprentice who was so clearly enjoying his first parade that was at least partly in his honour. Anakin stood there, puffing his puny chest out and beaming so brightly he rivalled the sun. And although Anakin's exuberance managed to put a small smile on Obi-Wan's face, he couldn't help but think that this mission had not been a success, not with the loss of Qui-Gon.

It seemed Master Yoda was of similar opinion. When Chancellor Palpatine grandly stated that it would not have been a victory without the help of Anakin, Yoda quietly harrumphed.

"A victory, this was not. Begun, the Clone Wars have!" he disagreed disgruntledly.

Then, as if puzzled by his own words, the diminutive green Master scratched his head, frowning at the Jedi standing next to him and hoping that no one had heard him muttering nonsense. Yoda suspected that if he did that too often, the rest of the Council would cease to listen to him at all and eventually declare him too senile to sit on the Council, forcing him to live the remainder of his days on some dreary out-of-the-way planet like Dagobah.

Chancellor Palpatine talked at length about his own contribution to Naboo's liberation, which had been minimal at best but which was completely blown out of proportion in his description.

Despite his best efforts, Obi-Wan's attention started to wander, and soon his eyelids started to droop. There was nothing better to make one sleepy than the ramblings of conceited politicians. And Palpatine kept droning on and on:

"… and I promise to never stop fighting against corruption, until all corrupt Senators will be abolished because I have replaced the Senate with myself, and my omniregency will know no bounds. And in my new Empire, there will be no more war, except for those quarrelsome rebels, but we will crush these warmongers with my secret superweapon, the Death Star!"

Palpatine paused for effect. Since everyone had stopped listening to the Chancellor, the crowd broke out in joyous cheers, as was expected of them. Obi-Wan's head snapped back up, and suddenly he was fully awake again, as if someone had emptied a bucketful of icy water over his head. Had the Chancellor just said something about 'his new Empire'? Obi-Wan frowned. An Empire was completely unacceptable, and his allegiance was to the Republic, to democracy!

But now Palaptine was quite innocently talking about the valiant Gungans who had fought for the Naboo, and Obi-Wan shook his head. He must have been dreaming. Although Obi-Wan disliked the way Palpatine's mouth twisted just the tiniest bit in mockery as he honoured the Gungans and the way his eyes glittered with mendaciousness, the thought that the Chancellor of the Republic would openly declare his intentions of styling himself Emperor seemed ridiculous.

Nevertheless, Obi-Wan decided he better pay attention just in case it had not just been a disturbing dream and the Chancellor let his tongue slip a second time. The Chancellor wrapped his speech up with more flowery words and insincere, oily smiles than Obi-Wan could stomach but no more strange proclamations of dictatorships to come. It must have been a dream, after all.

As seemed to be the wont of every politician in the entire universe, everyone of even the slightest importance had something to say, and the good-natured crowd were so glad to be freed from the Trade Federation's oppression that they even welcomed the hundredth repetition of the same meaning in slightly different words with loud cheers.

Finally, though, the endless speeches were over. Hundreds of identical Gungans armed with drums and horns paraded along the avenue, their racket almost droning out the choir. The song they sang was a well-known one on Naboo when it came to the melody, but the lyrics varied practically in every family. No consensus had been found about the version to be used at the parade, so the colourful wording had been exchanged for simple syllables. The yellow spaceships used to attack the Trade Federation's battlestation flew over the city with whining engines, and confetti blew through the streets. The people waved with brightly coloured pennants and applauded the Gungan army.

Amidst the marching Gungans rode Boss Nass in on the back of a heavyset animal, flanked by Jar Jar and Captain Tarpals on smaller steeds.

Jar Jar was grinning like an idiot (which actually would mean a significant step up the ladder of intelligence when it comes to that particular Gungan) and waving wildly to the crowd.

"Hidoe, everybody!" he shouted, but thankfully his intellectually challenged screeching couldn't be heard above the din.

The Gungan Boss sat atop his sturdy mount, straight-backed and since he did not slobber that day he even looked every bit as royal as the Queen. The whole procession came to a standstill in front of the stairs. Jar Jar got his lanky leg tangled in his stirrup and stumbled around pathetically, but unfortunately he didn't rid the galaxy of his annoying self by bashing his head in on the hard flagstone paving. Boss Nass, despite his bulky girth, dismounted gracefully, sliding down the great height from the animal's back and jumped down on the ground.

Anakin frowned down at the Gungan. He could clearly see the glowing orb in the hands of the Governor, and he looked doubtfully at Padmé. Suddenly, he didn't like that white dress quite as much, anymore. Why had Padmé chosen white? And why did the Gungan Boss look so smug? Why did he come riding in, in dazzling finery atop his lumbering mount? Anakin frowned questioningly up at Obi-Wan, but his new Master didn't say anything. What did that mean? Anakin pondered the situation, but being the slow learner that he was, it took him a few minutes to figure it out.

The three Gungans walked up the stairs and Queen Amidala stepped forward, facing the Gungan Boss. Suddenly, Anakin realized what this meant. He ran forward, taking a deep breath to shout his denial. How could Padmé do that? And Anakin had thought Padmé liked him…

oOo

Obi-Wan was watching the Gungans approaching and thought that maybe not all hope was lost for that people. Jar Jar was his usual bumbling self, but the other two Gungans behaved in an appropriate and dignified manner. All of a sudden, a small blond form whisked past him and Anakin's wild emotions beat against his shields. Lightning-quick, Obi-Wan's hand shot out and stopped Anakin's headlong rush by tightly clasping the boy's shoulder. The long and lound "Noooooooooo!" Anakin was about to scream got stuck in his throat.

Obi-Wan unobstrusively crouched down next to Anakin.

"Padawan, this is an important ceremony. You must not interrupt it," he quietly explained. "What's the matter, Anakin?" he asked, worried by the urgent desperation written plainly across the boy's face.

"She can't do that to me!" Anakin whispered frantically. "She can't!"

"She can't what, Anakin?" Obi-Wan gently coaxed his apprentice.

"She can't marry the Gungan Boss! Only now do I understand what all this means. The white dress? The glowing orb? Boss Nass all dressed up in his Sunday's best? These stupid politicians are forcing her to marry the slobbering Gungan! She can't marry him. She has to marry me! She will be my wife, and she will carry my children, not some ugly little Gungan pollywogs. I must stop this before it's too late. I don't want to share my future wife with anyone!" Anakin seemed near to tears.

Obi-Wan blinked a few times, unsure which of the myriad issues Anakin had just raised he should address first. The boy stared in despair as Padmé presented the Gungan Boss with the glowing orb, and Boss Nass took it and raised it above his head.

"Peace!" his powerful voice boomed across the plaza.

Anakin gasped and struggled against Obi-Wan's hold.

"Anakin, calm down! Anakin!" Obi-Wan whispered imploringly. "Padmé isn't marrying anybody. This ceremony seals the peace the Gungans have made with the Naboo."

"Oh." Understanding mingled with no small amount of embarrassment dawned on Anakin's face. "Oh! So it wasn't a marriage, at all? It's all right, then. And forget what I said about wanting to marry Padmé. Girls are yucky – well, most girls are, at least." Anakin finished somewhat lamely.

Obi-Wan considered talking with Anakin about this obsessive attachment and jealousy his Padawan had revealed when it came to Padmé, but half the Council was already sending him reproachful glares for talking during the ceremony. He straightened again, but left one hand lightly resting on Anakin's shoulder both to reassure and calm the boy and to keep him from doing any more stupid things.

Padmé turned around and smiled first warmly at Anakin, who answered with a lopsided smile of his own. When she couldn't catch Obi-Wan's eyes, because the Jedi was stubbornly staring at the crowd, she turned away again.

A lot of silent vows were made that moment. Anakin vowed that he would one day marry Padmé. Padmé vowed to do everything in her power to catch Obi-Wan's attention, even if she had to fake a few assassination attempts on herself to meet him again. And Obi-Wan silently renewed the promise he had given to Qui-Gon, and Anakin was sorely in need of all the training he could possibly put his hands on, as he had proven once again just now. Obi-Wan vowed to instruct his new Padawan to the best of his abilities.

Together, they experienced many an adventure, but of these shall be told elsewhere.

oOo

Edited 29th August, 2011