Hand of Fate
Chapter 8 / Tribute
A lone Jedi sat in a spacious guest chamber of the Theed palace. Late afternoon sunlight poured in through a nearby window, glaring up off the gleaming marble floor.
Obi-Wan's eyes were open but he wasn't seeing the physical world. He closed his eyes, trying to escape. Instead, he remembered.
Ten years ago, Obi-Wan had been fifteen at the time: Impatient and stubborn, eager to please and insecure while still somehow being painfully egotistical and lofty. Essentially, a brat. In the middle of a mission as they made their way through thick jungle tangle, Qui-Gon had suddenly stopped and fixed his student with a soft, thoughtful look that came from nowhere. "Do you know why I chose you as my padawan learner, Obi-Wan?" he'd asked. At the time he'd kept his hair in a casual knot at the back of the top of his head, appearing quite different than he did in later years. "I chose you because of who you are."
Obi-Wan had been sweating from the humidity and itching from bug bites. Not exactly in the most receptive state of mind. Perhaps that's why Qui-Gon had chosen that moment. "And who am I?" he'd asked slowly, mildly suspicious.
Qui-Gon had smiled and chuckled in the deepest part of his throat, his eyes glittering fondly as he put a hand Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Why would you ask someone else who you are? Does your inner voice not tell you?" he'd asked in the most maddeningly mild tone. "Meet yourself. Do it curiously, compassionately. Don't attempt to put yourself into a parameter of someone else's wish for who you ought to be. You are whole just as you are. The question is, can you give yourself the bravery it takes to break away from the safety of the commonly tread path?" Obi-Wan was disgruntled at what he immediately judged to be more of his master's nonsensical ramblings. Qui-Gon was forever the picture of assured serenity as he concluded his thoughts. "Trust the Force to show you who you are, my very young apprentice. I cannot do that for you." Without anything further, Qui-Gon had then returned to leading them through the jungle.
Obi-Wan had stared off after his master with a somewhat insolent look on his face. He hadn't possessed a clue about what Qui-Gon meant by that at the time and was as usual stumped by his master's teachings that seemed so emotionally rooted and whimsical. Complaining internally, Obi-Wan had followed his master, wishing for a teacher who wasn't so radically incomprehensible.
That was what felt like a lifetime ago.
With the dull thump of his hurting heart filling his ears, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. To the world that Qui-Gon no longer walked in. His mind begged for understanding of what had happened today. It was seared into his mind, unchangeable and permanent. The adversary's confrontation, the fight through the power generator plant, the laser-curtain hallway he hadn't been fast enough to run down. The helplessness of watching Qui-Gon tire as he fought alone. The stench of the dark side punching through the air with finality as the fatal blow was dealt. The Force had descended on Obi-Wan like never before after that moment, screaming through his veins with fury and unquenchable fire, directing his limbs in a song of vengeance that ended with the Sith falling to his death down a power core shaft.
Obi-Wan had run to Qui-Gon's fallen form the second he obtained victory, hoping against hope that somehow his master could be saved. But even as Obi-Wan fell to his knees at his master's side and gathered him into his arms, he knew his hope was wasted. "It's too late…" Qui-Gon managed just barely, his voice a weak shadow of what it once was. Set in a paled face, the formerly virile master's eyes had been pained as he struggle to take shallow breaths. Blood stained the front of his tunic.
"No!" Obi-Wan begged, shaking his head rapidly in denial. A feeble protest against the laws of nature and the will of the Force.
Qui-Gon's steadfast tranquility was gone, his face showing only agony as he fought to stay alive a few precious more seconds. "Obi-Wan, promise me you'll train the boy…"
Obi-Wan immediately nodded agreement through the tears that came. Anything Qui-Gon asked was his. "Yes, Master."
A gentle touch came from the master's trembling fingers to his apprentice's face, a touch Obi-Wan would never forget. "He, is the chosen one. He… will bring balance," Qui-Gon wheezed, eyes widening and blinking oddly. "Train him."
And then the great master Qui-Gon Jinn's eyes went blank and fell closed. His body gave out, going limp as he died in Obi-Wan's arms.
Shocked, Obi-Wan had clutched Qui-Gon close in that moment, crushed to pieces by the horrific finality. Gone. Forever. Just like that. It had been surreal in the absolute worse of ways. Obi-Wan had screamed again then, up to nothing and no one, his feelings exploding out of him like an atomic blast as pain and resistance ricocheted like a thousand blades inside. Obi-Wan didn't even remember picking his master up or how he got from the power core to the outside world. All he remembered was defeated failure clawing him apart both then and now. His tears were so many that they had run down his face and neck, soaking into the collar of his tunic.
He remembered bringing Qui-Gon out into the sunlight outside the hangar bay then being able to go no further. Sabé was there somehow. He didn't remember seeing her as much as he remembered feeling her. She had been beside him, holding onto him as he held on back, blind to everything in that moment, just needing a rock to cling onto in the raging storm of anguish. He thought he remembered hearing her say things to him, but couldn't remember what things they were. He had never known such a feeling of helpless grief and infinite loss. Qui-Gon was no longer here: a fact he understood, but could not comprehend. Anakin and some pilots had come out of the hangar not long after. Anakin wasn't supposed to see what he had. The boy's screams and cries echoed in Obi-Wan's mind, another horrific memory adding to an entire symphony of suffering. Weakened from his weeping, Obi-Wan remembered going quiet and hollow. Sabé still there with him. An officer had ordered Qui-Gon's body be taken somewhere for autopsy and funeral preparation, and Obi-Wan had watched him taken in a daze. Padmé had appeared and whisked Anakin away, then someone he didn't know had brought Obi-Wan here to be alone. Everything else was a jumbled blur.
The code ran through his mind: A Jedi Shall Not Know Anger, Nor Hatred, Nor Love.
And yet Obi-Wan had felt those very things in triplicate today. Anger at himself upon slowing down and getting separated from his master. Hatred for the Sith who had so mercilessly killed him. Love for the man who was the closest thing Obi-Wan would ever have to a father. His eyes ached anew, threatening more tears. Qui-Gon would forever remain a man and master who Obi-Wan had come to hold in the highest of respect—even if he didn't understand the way Qui-Gon thought and operated completely, the master had taught Obi-Wan many things: how to be less methodical and more intuitive, more in the moment, more at peace with chaos. Today, Obi-Wan had become his master's legacy. He would be the one to carry these messages onward. But how could he pass these things onto Anakin when Obi-Wan still felt like a learner himself?
Another thought was bothering the back of his mind: The Council might still stand against the idea of Anakin being trained. To deliver on his promise to Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan might have to go against them entirely. A daunting, stomach-turning thought. Don't fret over the things outside of the current moment, Obi-Wan. A lesson Qui-Gon had given many, many times over the years.
Heeding the advice, Obi-Wan committed to himself that he would set aside these worries until the situation was in front of him. But he still wondered: Who was Anakin? Obi-Wan hardly knew the boy, and didn't know if Anakin would even desire to be trained by him. They had barely interacted to this point, mostly due to Obi-Wan's selfish jealousy of being overlooked for a more exciting pupil. A feeling that Obi-Wan now cursed himself for entertaining. I still have much to learn.
It would never be the Jedi way to become controlled by feelings. But feelings came and went for him just as they did for anyone else.
Emotion, yet peace.
Ignorance, yet knowledge.
Passion, yet serenity.
Chaos, yet harmony.
Death, yet the Force.
He repeated the Jedi mantra over and over, wishing it gave him the assurance he so desperately needed. But it only felt like useless words that bore no relevance when it came to what had happened here today.
The question he felt most deeply and wrestled with the hardest: why?
Why would the Sith return this way, announcing their presence by killing a non-council member Jedi during a trade dispute conflict? Why Qui-Gon? Why Naboo? Why now? Did it really have something to do with Anakin? His master had insisted he was the chosen one, the one prophecies declared would bring balance to the Force. Obi-Wan had to admit there was something bigger happening here. He had known it the entire time. So had Qui-Gon.
A chime sounded and Obi-Wan slowly looked toward the doorway. He didn't want to see anyone. And moreover, who could it possibly be? Anakin maybe? Then as his senses adjusted he tentatively reached out in the Force. He recognized the presence. Her. He stood and went to the doorway, hitting the entry command for the door to slide up.
Sabé still wore the same battle outfit, but her face had been washed of the paint—she still had the little slash across her cheek from Tatooine, plus freckles from the sun—he saw rips and soot all over her outfit, and her headpiece was gone… the mark of the valiant battle she'd obviously fought. Draped in her arms, two brown garments—one warmer in tone, one darker and cooler in tone. A pang hit his chest when he recognized them.
The handmaiden's expression conveyed hesitance and empathy. Her voice was careful and soft. "We found these."
Their robes that had been discarded in the hangar when the fight with the Sith warrior first began. The finality of it all bore heavily on Obi-Wan, and he reached for them, his voice cracking softly with deep sadness. "Thank you." He slowly took them, then brushed fingers against Qui-Gon's robe with a reverent measure of feeling that overwhelmed him. His face struggled not to crumple, and more tears sprung up, sending shooting pains that made his eyes ache. He bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose hard, fighting to remain composed. He breathed unsteadily for a moment, then felt her hand come to touch his upper arm: a steadying, empathetic grasp that didn't judge him. Slowly, his breathing calmed as he reached to the Force for sanity and whatever peace he could find. When he was recomposed as best as he could be and looked up again, Sabé's hand moved away but her understanding, pained eyes remained.
"Anakin's being looked after. Padmé's made arrangements for him to sleep with some of the refugee children in one of the ceremonial halls tonight. Take all the time you need for yourself."
Relief flooded him that he hadn't known he needed. "Thank you," he said again, repeating himself while wishing he could summon more of himself. Grief had made him feel so tired, so lethargic.
Sabé's body language was halfway between staying and going as she hovered in the doorway. "Queen Amidala's scheduled the funeral for tomorrow evening," she said, and Obi-Wan felt himself react to the word 'funeral' even though she'd delivered the news in the most gentle of ways. "Is that enough time?"
He supposed it only right that the funeral be held here, the place where Qui-Gon's path had ended. It was still so new—the idea of his master being gone—that Obi-Wan could barely grasp it. "Yes, I—I think so." Thinking out loud in a somber, dazed tone, he realized he had to do something very important: "I'll notify the Council."
Sabé nodded, taking a moment to watch him with worried eyes. "All right. Signal my comm if you need anything. Anything at all." And without requiring him to say anything else, she gave a little hopeful, sad smile and left.
Obi-Wan stood there and watched her leave uselessly for what felt like an eternity.
Funeral. The Council. Return of the Sith. Anakin. It was so much.
After sealing the door, retreating into the room and laying their robes down beside each other on the bed there, Obi-Wan studied the garments for a long moment. He heavily made to pull his comm off his belt, intending to hail the Jedi Temple and tell them. Then he paused, deciding first to meditate and center himself, seek peace for himself. It's what Qui-Gon would have done.
The royal palace was unusually active in the aftermath of the battle earlier that day. Refugees from the camps were beginning to pour into the city. Some returning to their homes, some displaced and in need of shelter until transportation was up and running again. Temporary information and assistance points had been set up within the main hall of the palace. Nute Gunray and his allies had all been captured and put into a holding cell until further notice. The Gungans who had achieved victory out in the hill land returned to the city and were helping Nubians efforts wherever needed. A small first-aid station had also been set up, and many of the guest and servant's quarters were being used by those who needed rest or who had injuries. Padmé had just finished making a planet-wide broadcast informing her people of what had happened and what was next.
Sabé had been at Panaka and Padmé's command for the past few hours doing anything and everything asked of her—sweeping the plaza and hangar with a team for any remaining threats, conducting a search of the palace grounds for any lurking Nemodians. They had found two, and put them into custody with the rest. Zana and the schoolchildren were taken to the palace gardens to play and occupy themselves while they were looked over by Yané, Saché, and Ludo. Gregar was seen by a medic droid for the eye injury and leg injury he'd sustained, which would have to do until a human medic could be found. Obi-Wan remained unseen, remaining in the chambers he'd been temporarily given. Sabé looked in that direction often, worrying.
It was nearing sunset, and the flurry of activity wasn't really lessening. Sabé currently stood back and watched the schoolchildren playing with R2-D2 in the grand hall where they'd just had a very cobbled together dinner. Anakin had been very upset for awhile and sitting glumly to himself. Zana had seen him on the sidelines and sat with him awhile, talking and attempting to make friends. He'd finally been coaxed to join the other children, and was now showing them all different functions and commands Artoo could do. Jar Jar loped over to join, which caused a mixture of amazed laughter and terrified shrieks—most Nubian children had never seen a Gungan in the flesh before today.
Padmé came to stand beside Sabé, her gaze also on the young ones. "Look at them," she said, her eyes on Zana and Anakin in particular. "Children who had a hand in saving an entire planet. You'd never know what they've been through to look at them right now. Did Ludo tell you how Zana protected them all?" Sabé's face bore a proud, emotional smile and she nodded. Ludo had indeed. Zana had apparently shot and/or disabled ten battledroids over the past few days and even lured a droideka over the edge of a waterfall. "I think the protector gene runs strong in the Nebira family," Padmé said. The queen turned to Sabé and gave her a thorough look. "How are you, my friend?"
Sabé thought for a second, not even sure. Hungry, tired, physically exhausted, with some minor injuries that needed to be looked at. "Overwhelmed but grateful," she said.
There was an understanding nod from the queen. "I am too. There's so much to be done." Padmé sounded weary but hopeful. The same as Sabé felt. "Our strategy worked. Captain Panaka says he thinks casualties are less than fifty planet-wide, humans and Gungans alike. It's a miracle."
A sardonic little smile and look from Sabé. "Miracle or flawlessly conceived strategy… either one, I'm thankful."
Padmé smiled and chuckled, then turned to face Sabé full on, seeming to get a little more serious. "I've been thinking, friend. And I know you haven't been able to maintain the lifestyle you had before or be as present for your sister. This situation has really reminded me how important family is. Would you be interested in returning to the security forces in terms of hours and responsibilities? You wouldn't be stepping down as handmaiden, exactly, but…" Eyebrows raised faintly in surprise, Sabé kept listening. "I want to create a special role for you. A new position entirely. I've been thinking about it for a few days now. We can discuss the details later, but what do you think?"
Such an unexpected line of thought had caught Sabé off guard. "Milady, I'm so honored you're so considerate of the people in your service," she answered truthfully, feeling very seen and appreciated in that moment. She remained hesitant. "…I do feel that I've abandoned my responsibilities as far as Zana's concerned the past months. We're all each other has and—" Sabé stopped herself from getting too personal. "I've been considering bringing it up to you, I just didn't want to…"
"Be seen as disloyal?" Padmé guessed, then put a reassuring hand on her principle handmaiden's arm. "Sabé, you're anything but. Your service during this calamity will never be forgotten." She squeezed then let go. "I want you to take the rest of the night for you and Zana." She saw Sabé forming a protest and held up a finger that was a gentle command. "Go. Rest, get those scrapes looked at. Be with your sister. Everything else can wait until tomorrow."
Sabé bowed her head halfway, grateful and feeling undeserving. "Thank you Milady."
Settled in a guest chamber of the palace for that night, Sabé and Zana had both showered, dried, and dressed in fresh clothes. Yané had brought some food by for Sabé, and a medic droid had come by and put bacta patches on her cuts and scrapes. She wore a crushed velvet jumpsuit with long sleeves made of linen for the time being, choosing not to put on sleep clothes yet. Sabé felt like a new person, and relished being with her sister again.
They sat on the edge of the plush bed the quarters was furnished with. Sabé was carefully brushing and braiding Zana's hair. Outside, the sky was dark purple, sunset having passed about thirty minutes ago.
"I thought Jedi couldn't die," Zana said presently, an unspoken question. She was picking absently at a spot on her light blue sleeping robe.
Sabé paused mid brushstroke, a pang flickering in her chest. "If only that were true, little flower." She resumed, a little more somber. "They're not invincible. No one is."
"I know," Zana said quietly, her tone and faroff gaze betraying her thoughts.
Sabé stopped completely, repositioning to level her sister with an intent gaze. "Ludo told me. About the boy who died in your group." Zana's expression flashed, showing apprehension and pain. Sabé softly tucked some hair behind her little ear. "Do you need to talk about it?"
Zana began avoiding eye contact. "Talking won't do anything."
It was extremely difficult to see this child who she had practically raised go through this. "I know," Sabé replied, wishing she had a magic solution to fix things. "It's all right to be sad. And angry too. For as long as you need to be." Sensing that Zana wanted to get off this topic as soon as possible, Sabé left her with a brief squeeze and kiss on the side of her head. "You can talk to me whenever you want." She began brushing again, then braiding the other side of Zana's head.
"I've decided on my future career," Zana announced a few seconds later.
Weaving strands hyper fast, Sabé's brow furrowed in interest as she made it to the end of the final plait and secured it. "Oh?"
Zana turned to look at Sabé with a strongly held chin and a glint of determination in her eye. "I want to be a medic. I want to know how to help and heal people." She paused. "Like Gregar." Her voice grew a little softer. "Like Alza."
The boy who had died. Sabé felt pride and sadness at once burst in her chest. "That's wonderful Zana." She hugged her close, closing her eyes as she held her sister close. She treasured this more than ever after the past few days. "You'll make an incredible medic." She meant that. Zana was very even-keeled, logical, kindhearted, and given to academic excellence. Drawing back, Sabé stroked her hand over Zana's head a few times, thinking of this weapon-averse child who had taken up a blaster to defend her people the best she could the past few days. Sabé felt a keen sense of what she imagined a mother might feel: incredible pride and fear all at once, an urge to keep this girl safe forever. "I wish I could protect you from the bad things in this world."
Zana made a good-natured face. "I might only be eleven, but I know how the galaxy works."
Eyebrows up high, Sabé grinned. "Oh, really? When did you grow up, huh?" She touched the tip of Zana's nose, amusing both of them. She then patted the fluffy bedspread. "Let's crawl into bed, I'm going to tell you all about everything. Then I want to hear your story too."
After both of the Nebira girls had filled the other one in on everything that happened since their separation the afternoon of invasion, Zana had fallen asleep. Sabé had tucked her in and quietly went back out, looking for the room she'd seen Gregar in earlier. He was in a room full of cots and first aid volunteers, half asleep on a raised cot. A couple other officers were nearby resting or injured.
He woke when she approached. "Hey Gregs." He had a patch over his eye, and a temporary cast on his leg. She pulled a nearby chair over to sit in.
"Hurricane Nebira," he said, grinning and working to sit himself up in the bed.
"You look like opee chum," she teased deadpan, falling into their old routine of friendly insults and jabs as she fixed his pillow for his back so he could sit better. "How are you holding up?
Gregar shrugged and shook his head. "I'll survive," he said, giving her a thin smile. "Where's Zana?"
"Asleep finally."
"Good. Well, looks like I'm stuck this way." He pointed to the patch on his eye with a wan expression. "Did you know shooting with your non-dominant eye is kriffing tough?"
"Your aim's always been bad, that's no excuse," she joked, then smiled when he made a face. "We'll get you back up to speed."
"Promise?" he asked, just as playful as she was.
"Promise." She had her hands clasped and became more sincere. "Thank you for watching Zana. I'm forever indebted. I mean it."
Gregar shook his head no. "I don't know about that."
"You kept her safe when I couldn't."
He drew a deep breath. "We all kept each other safe." Gregar studied her for a moment. "Would she talk to you about Alza?"
"Not really."
"Hm. Counseling wouldn't be a bad idea for her when things settle down," he advised, his warm brown eyes conveying a lot of depth. "I worried about you, Sabé. Especially with the decoy plan."
She appreciated it of course, but Sabé felt distinctly uncomfortable and really didn't want to delve deep into feelings. At least not with Gregar. "I need to forget all this for a little bit," she said, dodging and then spotting a deck of cards nearby. She was already reaching for them. "Got time for a hand of sabacc?"
He hadn't missed the way she skipped replying to him, but he already had put a smile on. "Can't you see I'm very busy here?" he joked.
She cocked a nonplussed eyebrow at him, already sorting the deck. "I'll deal."
After a couple rounds of sabacc, Sabé returned to Zana, who snored lightly. Sabé still found herself sleepless even though the hour was growing decidedly late. She elected finally to go out onto the veranda off their quarters. The night was cool enough that a light cape felt appropriate, and Sabé hugged it around herself as she stepped from inside to outside. Overhead, stars laid bright and sparkling in a velvet sky. The moons were full and large that night, bathing everything in silver light and making for easy visibility.
Sabé approached the veranda railing with eyes on the stars above and hugged her arms around herself more, leaning slightly into the thick cool stone when she came to the banister. Her gaze lowered to the cityscape of Theed—further off beyond the palace grounds, the teal rotunda rooftops dotting the buildings that made up the city were a familiar and peaceful sight. The waterfalls on the opposite side of the palace were just a pleasant background roar. Some nightbirds were calling low to each other back and forth from the gardens nestled underneath the second-story veranda she stood on. Peace would once again reign. For the first time since the Trade Federation invaded, she felt true optimism.
And also… her brow furrowed slightly… keen pain. Sabé looked over and was so startled she almost jumped. To her right on the next veranda over, Obi-Wan stood at the banister facing outward, moon illuminating him in a beautiful, haunting way. His face was turned up toward the sky, eyes soft, expression thoughtful and tinted by pain. The two of them were perhaps only fifteen or twenty feet apart, which was why she was so startled that she hadn't noticed him.
He of course seemed to know she was there and had only been waiting for her to notice. He turned his attention to her, and for a moment, neither said anything. "Obi-Wan," she finally managed softly. She was unsure of what to say to the grieving Jedi Knight. "Trouble sleeping?"
"No rest for the weary," he replied. He sounded morose and stripped of something he'd had before. "You?"
"Too exhausted to sleep," she admitted, peering at him while trying not to come across too intense or too worried. She took a couple seconds to decide whether or not to ask: "Are you… doing better?"
He drew a deep breath and looked out toward the city, nodding so faintly it could have been imagined. "Yes. I am."
She believed him, but also knew how nonlinear grief could be. How the entire galaxy felt turned upside down upon losing someone unexpectedly. She felt incredibly sensitive to the state of mind she imagined him to be in. "Do you need anything?"
The ghost of a sad smile touched his lips and the corners of his eyes. "A tricky question indeed." He turned to her again and leaned a bit more casually. "Your sister, she's all right?"
She blinked twice. "Yes." Sabé felt a confused, touched warmth in her heart. "You remembered."
Obi-Wan nodded, more fully this time. "I'm glad she's safe."
She couldn't speak for all Jedi Knights. But Obi-Wan had a compassion and character that was in no way put-on. Was it any wonder she felt drawn to him? Her heart broke on his behalf all over again as she thought of his face when she had delivered the robes back to him. A few days ago she hadn't known this man at all. Now, it felt like a small friendship had been built… a friendship she hadn't anticipated at all. "Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry."
He digested her condolence with a hard to read expression, his eyes on the stone railing for a long moment. "It's more difficult than I thought it would be. Losing someone in this way."
She nodded slowly. "I know." Recalling the feelings and sensations at learning her parents were dead was easy—the experience had left her changed forever. "Nothing can ever prepare you for how it feels to lose a loved one," she said, wishing she knew what to do or say to help. Perhaps leaving and giving him his space would be most respectful. "Do you… want to be alone right now?"
Obi-Wan's distracted gaze flicked up to hers. "No. On the contrary I…" he trailed off, his eyes gentle but unsure on hers. It was only the span of seconds, but the eye contact became too intense for both of them, and their eyes fell away at the same moment. Obi-Wan cleared his throat briefly. "Please stay a bit, if you haven't somewhere else to be." He paused, then thought out loud, or that's how it came off. "I notified the Council. They'll arrive tomorrow morning. The funeral will take place. And then Anakin will become a Jedi."
Sabé stole a glance at his profile. "Who will his master be?"
Obi-Wan's jaw flexed. "Me." A single word said with a great deal of weight. "Qui-Gon's dying wish. That I would train the boy in his place."
Sabé nodded, smiling grimly at the bittersweet situation. "Anakin will have a wonderful teacher then."
A compliment that bounced right off completely. "I'm barely a master myself," Obi-Wan replied, and he sounded a couple steps from forlorn. "I don't feel ready," he admitted, catching her gaze again. He was so very human and normal in that moment to her. He shook his head and his expression soured. "And first, I have to get the council to agree to this blasted plan of mine."
Sabé made a hmm sound that drew a curious look from Obi-Wan. "You remind me of me," she explained thoughtfully. "When Zana and I lost our parents. I wasn't even thirteen yet. She was six." The handmaiden's gaze became distant as she looked over the city and reflected. "I wasn't ready at all. But I suddenly just had to be."
Obi-Wan sounded very dubious. "You… were allowed to have custody at twelve?"
Sabé threw a conspiratorial glance his way. "It wasn't a typical allowance. Not at all. Fourteen is the age of responsibility here on Naboo and sixteen is adulthood. But I knew we'd be separated if I didn't try. So I filed a court motion, refused to be ignored, and… somehow, after jumping through some hoops and joining the guard to ensure an income and housing, the judge granted me conditional custody. It became full permanent custody a year later." She pressed her lips together, trying to bring it back to her point instead of bore him with details about her life. "I didn't feel ready. I didn't know what I was doing." She shrugged shallowly and looked at him again, a certain serenity coming over her as she thought of all the hard work, sacrifice, and uncertainty that had felt impossible to tackle. "We're here. And we've made it this far. I think you will too."
Obi-Wan considered a moment, looking into the mid-distance. "You make it sound simple."
"Do I?" she asked, a soft airy sound like a laugh escaping her mouth. "It's not."
A small, boyish smile lit his face as he glanced at her. "Wishful thinking, I suppose."
Sabé walked to the corner of her veranda, closing the distance between them a bit. "Padmé told me Anakin said the council had decided not to train him."
Obi-Wan turned to sit on the stone railing, facing her direction by sitting at an angle. "It's true. They say he's too old. And, well. He is."
Sabé mimicked him, sitting crookedly on the stone railing on her side. "How old were you?"
"When I first came to the temple?" he asked, eyes darting around in thought. "Around three I think. Which, oddly enough, was uncharacteristically old. Most Force-sensitive individuals are identified within six months of birth." He shook his head as if to say it didn't matter. "Either way, Anakin's training will not be typical." He breathed out heavily, vexed. "There's no guidebook for it, no parameters to lead the way."
Sabé contemplated. She was ignorant to the way of the Jedi as a whole, only knowing surface-level things. But she had to wonder… "Isn't that what the Force is for?"
Obi-Wan looked at her as if he had been struck by lightning, then his eyebrows raised in a mild expression of fascinated thoughtfulness. He made a hmm sound. "Right you are." He chuckled briefly, the action making his eyes crinkle softly and a dimple cut into a cheek. "Sometimes the bigger picture escapes me in favor of the smaller details." He thought a moment more, expression growing more serious. "Either way. He will be trained. Whether I have their approval or not." Sabé found herself smiling at him with an expression that could be called fond. Obi-Wan saw it and seemed unsure. "What?"
"Nothing," she said, but didn't try to wipe the smile off her face. "Just…" she thought of how to put it into words. "The rebel side of me admires that."
Obi-Wan's more stern expression faded into the whisper of a smile. "At least I have one person on my side of things," he said, and seeing that glimmer of his personality peeking back out made her smile back a little more.
"Bay?" a little voice came. Zana was peeking out from the doorway in, disgruntled by sleepiness. "I woke up and you were gone."
Sabé's smile left, but her expression remained pleasant and kind. "I'm right here. And I'll be right in."
Zana rubbed an eye and mumbled 'okay' then went back in as Sabé stood up and cleared her throat. Obi-Wan stood too. She almost felt regretful to leave, and thought perhaps he could tell.
"Rest well, Sabé," he told her.
"I hope you can too," she said earnestly, and reluctantly bid him farewell. "Goodnight."
She didn't have to look back to know his eyes followed her as she went inside.
The next morning, the queen called a small group into one of the outer palace towers at sunrise without telling them why. Among those called were all of the handmaidens (dressed in yellow gowns without the hoods yet up), Captain Panaka, pilot Ric Olié, R2-D2, Jar Jar, Lieutenant Gregar Typho, Officer Atané Ludo, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, and Zana Nebira.
The tower she gathered them in was open-air, letting in both the pleasant morning light as well as the fragrant, misty air. The view, three hundred and sixty degrees of a golden summer morning, was like a painting. Dressed in a simple hooded robe and her queen's makeup, Padmé stood opposite of everyone she had requested. Beside her on a tall and narrow round table was a wooden box. "Good morning all. I've assembled this small group of freedom fighters this morning to pay tribute and give thanks for your sacrifices and risks. Naboo would not be free without all of you."
She drew out of the box a jewel-crafted medal of honor. One of the highest symbols of esteem and valor that existed on Naboo. "Obi-Wan Kenobi." She presented it to him with two open hands and a bow. "We honor you. For everything you've given and lost, and all your master did for our people." Obi-Wan bowed in turn, taking the medal. "We thank you, into eternity."
The queen took another medal out and came to offer it to Sabé. "Lieutenant Nebira. For risking your life above others, for choosing to put yourself at the greatest risk of death and harm, for putting Naboo first and leading the victory charge at my side with bravery and valor, I hereby give you this medal of honor and bestow the rank of Commander upon you, with all the rights, privileges, and honor therein."
Sabé felt shocked eyes on her even as she tried not to outright gape. Commander was a higher rank than any officer she knew of in the forces. "Milady… I'm speechless," she said, to which Padmé smiled in good humor.
"A very rare moment indeed," the queen said serenely, and Sabé took the medal in a daze, a smile growing on her face. Just in front of her, Zana grinned up at her sister, squeezing her hand excitedly.
Padmé gave out medals to everyone in attendance.
Captain Panaka for his leadership and bravery.
Jar Jar Binks for his part in bringing the Gungan and Naboo together.
Rabé, Eirtaé, Saché, Yané for unwavering service and protection of those in their charge.
Typho and Ludo for the same. They were also given promotions to Captain.
Ric Olié for navigating their escape from Naboo.
R2-D2 for saving the ship from certain destruction.
Padmé finally came to the smallest two in attendance.
"Anakin Skywalker," she said, presenting the medal to a very star-eyed boy. "For your bravery and masterful piloting. Our fate has changed tide because of you, not once, but twice. We will always remember your work and courage that helped liberate our people."
"And finally, Zana Nebira," Padmé said, offering the medal to the eleven year old. "For your courage in defending the children of Naboo. We thank you for your bravery and willingness to protect others so selflessly." Padmé stood and addressed everyone then. "Unto all here, we ask blessings, mercy, guidance, and peace. And the people said:"
All in attendance who knew the response replied: "So we plead."
"The Republic shuttle is arriving soon with our newly elected Chancellor Palpatine," Padmé said, "we'll go to meet them in fifteen minutes."
The group broke into conversations. "Congratulations Commander," came a familiar accented voice. Obi-Wan was smiling and offering a handshake.
"Thank you," Sabé said, shaking firmly then indicating her sister. "Zana, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Zana shook his hand too. "Nice to meet you sir." She clasped her hands in front of herself. "I have a great deal of respect for the Jedi way."
Pleasant surprise at her statement came over Obi-Wan's face. He glanced at Sabé as he replied. "And I have a great deal of respect for the people of Naboo."
"Is Anakin going to be busy today?" Zana asked.
Curious, Obi-Wan's head canted slightly to the side. "What did you have in mind?"
"After the shuttle comes, some of us are going to help with the droid cleanup in the plaza, maybe he could help."
An approving smile came over the Jedi's face and he nodded. "An excellent idea."
While that conversation continued, Panaka was approaching Padmé and he looked ill-tempered. "What does this mean, exactly?" Panaka asked. "With Nebira's promotion?"
Padmé gave the captain a cool look. "It means I am changing the way the security forces operate, Captain. We'll discuss these changes at length when the dust settles." She indicated the exit. "In the meantime, prepare for the shuttle arrival please."
With a dark glance at Sabé, Panaka briskly turned on his heel and left, doing as he was told.
Palpatine and the Jedi Council arrived not long after and the day was spent in a mixture of debriefing, political discussion, cleaning efforts, and seeing Theed slowly return to normal.
Later That Evening
At dusk, Qui-Gon's body was given a royal Naboo funeral. His casket, surrounded by fellow Jedi, made its way from the morgue to the royal mausoleum in a solemn march. The queen and her handmaidens were right behind. The city streets were full of those gathered to pay respects to the fallen Jedi who had helped liberate the planet. Children threw flower petals, many of which landed in the casket, decorating Qui-Gon's peaceful form. He'd been changed into an outfit that hid his final wound. He looked serene once more.
With the council present, Obi-Wan kept control on his emotions like he hadn't the day before. During the march and during the burning of the body, Obi-Wan remained pensive and reflective. Nothing more, nothing less. Earlier that day he had sought a private meeting with Yoda, who conferred upon Obi-Wan the title of Master without any sort of ceremony or fanfare. He also relented and said that despite the council's feelings that it was a bad idea, they were granting him permission to train Anakin. The boy didn't know this yet, and his anxiety, fear, and sadness came off of him like a beacon. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea. But it was what Obi-Wan had promised Qui-Gon.
When the flames died and all that was left was ashes and the light from flame torches ringing the round room, everyone except Obi-Wan and Anakin left—with the exception of two hooded handmaidens at either side of the doorway to escort the Jedi back.
The low light of the torches cast an orange hue onto everything. As Anakin watched the last guest leave, he turned to look at Obi-Wan tiredly. The boy had endured quite a few long, hard days and was obviously exhausted. Obi-Wan picked up a bundle left by one of the other Jedi masters and then took a knee to get to Anakin's eye level. "Qui-Gon wanted nothing more than to see you become a Jedi. He believed in you, and I believe in Qui-Gon." Anakin's perplexed, tired expression showed no understanding. "The Council has granted me permission to train you. We begin tomorrow."
Understanding now, Anakin reacted with wide eyes, trying to mask his surprise, apprehension, and fear. "Yes, sir." He wet his lips nervously and tried to stand a little taller, look a little more stern. "I—I mean Master."
Obi-Wan offered a little smile and touched the boy's shoulder. "There is no need to be afraid Anakin. I will guide you and teach you with everything I possess, just as Qui-Gon would have." Obi-Wan handed over the bundle to Anakin. "Here."
Anakin took it and looked it over—clothing. A sandy pair of leggings, a matching long sleeve tunic, a small Jedi belt, boots to match. His eyes grew huge, his tiredness momentarily a memory. "Is this…?" he asked breathlessly.
"Yes." Obi-Wan answered, and Anakin hugged the outfit to himself tightly. Obi-Wan pulled out the small hair clipper he'd pocketed earlier. "Are you ready to look the part?"
Anakin nodded, eyes bright with excitement. It didn't take Obi-Wan long to trim Anakin's hair into a style that essentially matched his own: short on the sides and back, longer and spiked at the top. He left some of Anakin's shaggy hair long just behind his right ear then braided it tightly, securing it, explaining what the padawan braid was as he went. He then took Anakin by both upper arms. "You have a long road in front of you Anakin. But I will be with you along every step of the way."
Anakin nodded, but he looked like he was again physically fighting to keep his eyes open. "Master Obi-Wan? I'm very tired sir."
"So am I." Obi-Wan smiled and rose. "Shall we?" He glanced up at the handmaidens, whose midnight-black cloaks concealed their identities well. But he already knew the one on the left was Sabé from sense alone. Silently, the handmaidens walked one ahead of and one behind them, guiding them back to the palace.
They entered into the palace, which was the kind of quiet that caused people to want to whisper. The women both took off their hoods and Rabé reached a hand for Anakin, who still carried his clothing close. "Come with me, Ani," she said, and he automatically took her hand and trudged along after her, throwing a, "goodnight, Master Obi-Wan," over his shoulder.
"Goodnight, my apprentice," Obi-Wan returned, his face thoughtful as he tested out the phrase for the first time. Not dwelling on it, he turned to Sabé, who he felt had something to say to him. He was right.
"The queen wanted me to let you know Qui-Gon's ashes will be prepared and sent to you in the morning before the celebration." Obi-Wan nodded, noticing how she looked at him with questioning eyes. "…Isn't it customary to cut off your braid now that you're a master?"
Surprised, he looked down at the offending braid. He'd forgotten it was there at all. He'd been made master in an offhand declaration from Yoda instead of the traditional ceremony, which would have included shearing off the padawan braid. Obi-Wan looked at Sabé again. She was the first person he saw after Qui-Gon had died. Since Qui-Gon couldn't do this for him, it seemed suddenly fitting that she should. "Do you have a knife?"
The question produced a quietly sassy expression on her part. "And just what kind of question is that?" She asked, and out from her sleeve came a wickedly glinting switchblade. She hesitated, frowning as her bravado faded. "Shouldn't someone else do it though?"
Obi-Wan saw an excellent opportunity to metaphorically bat at her. "Why, is your blade not sharp enough?" he challenged impishly, surprising himself with how easily humor came after such a sober evening.
His comment had quite the effect. Sabé grabbed the end of his braid and pulled to make it taut, her eyes challenging him right back. That pull brought them chest-to-chest, and their expressions faded at the sudden closeness. Sabé's eyes looked back and forth between his, and her grip on the braid became more slack for a second. Then she firmly pulled it tight again and cut the braid near the scalp in a single flick. She handed his braid to him, stepping back to a less personal distance. "Master Kenobi," she said, and he recognize a farewell by her tone.
He bowed his head just slightly. "Commander Nebira."
With another cryptic look that could be called both intrigued and apprehensive, Sabé turned and left, her robes swirling darkly behind her as she went. Obi-Wan watched her go, fiddling with his braid between his fingers, his expression hard to read.
Above, concealed in the shadows, Master Yoda watched with a thoughtful claw resting against his fuzzy chin.
Author's Notes: AhhHHH next we have the celebration day and then it's full steam ahead into original adventures. What do you hope happens in the next chapter? Let me stop getting ahead of myself. What about THIS chapter!? A lot happened… what was your favorite/standout moment? xoxo thanks so much for your reviews and messages, I am loving all the support.
