Disclaimer: Nothing pertaining to George Lucas' Star Wars, characters locations etc, belongs to me.

Legend
Chapter One: The King's Ransom

The flame in the lamplight flickered like a ghost in the waning dusk. It was a bitterly cold November night. The streets were silent, candles dim, yet Anakin Skywalker knew as he sped down the snow speckled back streets that he was nearing a warm, safe haven. Keeping a sharp eye open for any peculiar folk the young man cautiously darted in and out of shadowy doorways, his slim form making it easy to hide in the late hours of the raw night.

He wrinkled his nose in the air, searching out the delightful smells of hot stew his Master's Tavern had to offer. The spicy smells made his mouth water and his eyes burn as they came wafting down the street to greet him. Anakin put on an extra burst of speed as he skidded around the last corner with a large keg of ale tucked firmly in his arms. Never had he been so happy to see the King's Ransom, Watto's dank and grimy excuse for an Inn.

Nevertheless, whatever he thought of the place on nights such as this the King's Ransom certainly pulled in the customers; as was the reason Anakin had been ordered to collect another keg of ale from the only other cellar in the neighbouring village.

Nudging the door open with his elbow Anakin shook the little white specks of snow from his sandy coloured hair and grumbled impatiently as he squeezed past a particularly large, pink outlander with four immense, swollen arms; each holding an equally large tankard of ale. But the young tavern boy's irritated curses were quickly drowned out by the uproarious cries of laughter and merriment. The King's Ransom was crowded with hundreds of rosy cheeked patrons. Anakin had never seen so many people packed into such a small place before.

Master Watto had informed him earlier that they would have many travellers passing through the village on their way to Capital City for the Winter Festival. The way things were going Anakin wouldn't have been surprised if they made their usual profit for an entire year in one week!

As he wove his way through the bustling crowds toward the bar Anakin noted with interest that his master had invested some of his profits in hiring more staff. He watched with an eager eye as the waiting girls flitted in amongst the tables serving drinks with an eager smile and a flirtatious wink.

Upon reaching his destination he found his mother working hard, desperately filling mugs to the brim from a large cask of foaming ale. Shmi Skywalker was a slim, rosy-cheeked woman with dusky skin and warm brown eyes to match her equally warm and kind-hearted temperament. She kept her long dark hair wrapped up in a tight bun and tucked neatly beneath a white cap.

Anakin sneaked behind her back and closed his icy fingers over her shoulders. She jumped at the sudden chill and snapped her head towards the bar. A tender smile instantly lit Shmi's eyes as she recognised her son.

"Annie, good grief! I was beginning to get concerned," she said.

Anakin set the keg of ale down on the bar and swung his legs up and over to the other side. "You shouldn't worry so much," he assured her and flashed a cocky smile.

"Are there lines appearing already?" Shmi chuckled and set two more mugs filled to the brim with ale down on the tavern bar's worn surface. "I hope you didn't get into another scuffle with Greedo again. You have to control your temper Anakin."

Anakin grinned shamelessly. "No fights tonight," he said while heaving a fresh keg of ale up onto the shelf, "I met with Kit over in the next village. He caught a Salamander down by the brook today but it wouldn't light up," he screwed his face up and sulked. "I reckon his flame went out on the count of it being so cold."

"Annie, ma boy! Where 'ave you been?" the coarse, heavily accented voice of the Tavern Master called to him. Anakin turned begrudgingly towards the crude, loudmouthed Toydarian hovering above the bar, his tiny wings flapping fiercely. Watto was a crook, an avid gambler and a shameless cheat. He also happened to be the only father figure Anakin had ever known and however reluctant he was to admit it he was quite fond of the shrewd, foul-smelling creature.

"I've a' been waiting for a whole hour!" Watto snapped gesturing wildly with his stubby little arms. "How do you think I'm meant to deal with a crowd of angry people waving their empty mugs in my face, uh?!" Continuing to rant in his fierce alien tongue, Watto's little wings carried him to the new keg of ale where he quickly began pouring drinks for his eager customers.

A smile of amusement crossed Anakin's face when he caught a few curses from the Toydarian's spiteful tongue, but his mother sent him a warning glance, fearing they'd soon be out of a job. Watto was especially testy that night as more travelers from all over the shire poured through the little doorway of the King's Ransom. It was well after 5 o'clock in the morning before their customers stumbled one by one out of the door again.

Shmi had never been so happy to hear the chimes above the door ring as she watched the very last patron stagger away into the bitterly cold morning. She dropped herself into a tatty old armchair by the hearth and heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

"My goodness that was a long night," she said and took a long sip from a steaming hot mug of tea.

"Aye, and no doubt it'll be a hard one tomorrow me thinks," Watto replied with a slight groan as he rested his aching muscles in the armchair opposite from her. "You'd better be up for it boy. I don't want no slacking now!" he called to Anakin who was drying mugs as best he could with a sopping wet cloth.

"Yes master," he retorted in a mock tone.

"Ah Annie ma boy, we'll make an honest worker out of you yet. Hmm, well perhaps not honest, ah?" he chuckled before taking a long draw from his pipe. "Which reminds me, strange looking fella's been askin' 'bout you."

Shmi's soft brown eyes flew up from the steaming mug, her face a study of concern.

Anakin furrowed his brow. "'bout me? Whatever for?"

"Wanted to talk to you but I say you were gone. Been in here di past few nights," he took a long puff of his pipe before wildly gesturing with it towards a flea-bitten rocking chair in the far corner of the room. "All he do is sit and stare at you. And he only buy one drink every night! One drink! E chuta ta.."

Shmi shot a grave look of concern at her son, her dark eyes questioning, but Anakin was utterly baffled. Leaning on the back of a three-legged chair, his clothe slung over his left shoulder, the boy leaned towards Watto and asked, "what did he look like?"

Watto scratched his bristly chin. "Difficult to say. Always wears a cloak. Pointed him out to Gav and he say 'that there outlander, he has Giant's blood'." The Toydarian shook his head and snorted derisively. "Looked like one of dem outlandish cult folk to me; like those sorcerers me thinks." He gave Anakin a piercing glare. "You'd better not be meddlin' in any funny business boy!"

Anakin shook his head and screwed his youthful face up in deep thought. Why would a complete stranger want anything to do with a Tavern boy?

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It was bitterly cold. The forest trees, tall black soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder beneath a pearly white moon, offered little shelter from the icy chill pervading throughout the night. A shadow flitted amongst the firs and closely packed pines, dodging shards of scattered moonlight - all the while skirting the great palace wall ahead, seeking entrance.

The shadow bent low beside a moss-covered stump and listened intently. A beam of moonlight flickered across its features briefly revealing a figure dressed in a long, hooded cloak. Long callused fingers lifted to raise the heavy hood of the cloak, exposing a pair of stormy, intelligent eyes and disheveled, wheat-coloured hair. Unkempt stubble adorned his youthful face.

He waited in the shadows of the soldiers for what seemed like hours before he caught his chance. Slipping out of hiding he crept towards the wall, crouching in the shadow of a balcony high above. He regarded it with interest for a moment, strands of golden-red falling in his eyes. Flexing his fingers the cloaked figure lowered his hands to the ground in a series of peculiar gestures. All of a sudden thousands of little green tendrils shot up from the ground. Through the continued gestures of his hands and fingers the vines scaled the castle wall, twisting and slithering higher and higher until they at last reached the out-cropping balcony. The figure took a fistful of the living rope ladder and gave them a hard tug. When he was positive they could hold his weight he began to scale the castle wall.

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Padmé Amidala paced her chambers, pulling her nightdress higher around her slender shoulders and tugging at the lace fretfully.

He was late, but she could not fault him. That fool risks too much venturing so close to the palace, she thought despairingly.

Slipping in front of the dresser Padmé contemplated her reflection. The young Maid of Naboo was well into her 16th year and the preordained marriage to Emperor Palpatine's son edged closer with every setting sun. Padmé loved her country dearly and would gladly die for it if need be but fear crept into her heart at the idea of uniting Naboo with the 7th Kingdom of Coruscant. She wished to rule Naboo as a separate Kingdom like her father before her, but the title Maid of Naboo had little political sway in her country. Winning the respect and love of its people had been a tiring and unsuccessful battle over the years. All because I am a woman, she thought with bitterness and glared hatefully at her reflection in the looking-glass.

A gentle rapping on the window laced with frost aroused her from her reflection. Padmé darted towards the visitor on the balcony, grinning broadly.

"Master Kenobi, where have you been? My Lord, you had me so worried sir!" she spluttered, grasping his arms, "and you're freezing!"

"You are well guarded my Lady," the Knight retorted, shivering with the cold as he entered her chambers.

"Obi-Wan, I have asked you on countless occasions to address me by my name and only by my name. No man who risks as much as you do need concern himself with proper conduct," Padmé admonished. "Besides, need I remind you are no longer a Guardian of the 2nd Kingdom?" Padmé suddenly flushed with embarrassment. "Oh Obi-Wan, I am sorry. I didn't mean to offend-"

"You didn't," he smiled reassuringly but it did not reach his eyes. His face suddenly grew very grave. "Amidala, the Guardians are being hunted." Obi-Wan's somber grey eyes locked with her own and Padmé could see the hidden grief there. "I fear many have been killed."

The news hit like an icy bucket of water. The young Princess stood very still within the royal chambers but her inner turmoil, conflicting feelings of disbelief and shock, had sorely rocked her. "Oh," she paused and tried again to muster a reply. "I had always thought it impossible to kill a Jedi."

Obi-Wan almost smiled at her naivety; the Maid of Naboo's simple innocence could captivate the weariest of hearts. "If only that were so," he replied.

"I am so sorry," she said, then froze at the sound of heavy footsteps padding through the outside hall, alerting them both to the presence of Palace Guards. He could not risk being caught here.

Obi-Wan turned to Padmé with urgency. "I will do my very best to send word before you depart for Coruscant, but I doubt I'll be able to meet you in person for a long while. There are eyes everywhere and the enemy's proving extremely hard to pinpoint," he paused and added with a grimace, "and to hide from."

"You're leaving already Obi-Wan?" Padmé asked incredulously.

"I'm to meet with Qui-Gon Jinn in Capital City seven days from no," he replied and gave a wry chuckle. "It's a long ride."

"Capital City!" she exclaimed. "But that's miles away!" She quickly silenced her voice at Obi-Wan's stern look.

"We are arranging a secret meeting of the Guardians - what's left of them anyway," Obi-Wan added bitterly. "We plan to ride out for borders of Dagobah to seek the Council of Elders. They'll know what to do." Obi-Wan put his finger to her lips before she could emit another astonished squeal. "Yes it's far, but are options right now are few."

Padmé squared her shoulders. "Master Kenobi, I cannot go through with this union," her clear gaze momentarily faltered, "not if it means endangering my people."

The look of distress upon her pretty features pained Obi-Wan and he suddenly wished Qui-Gon were here in his place. Obi-Wan had a limited grasp on the Living Force and was not so highly adept at consoling people as his former Master.

"The Jedi have loyally served your Kingdom for a millennium my Lady, and we do not plan on abandoning you now. We will unravel this mystery," he caught her slender shoulders in his hands. "You must trust me your Highness."

Padmé's eyes fell away and her frail shoulders slipped from his grasp. For a long while she made no reply and he wondered if fear and disbelief had so troubled her that she did not know what to say. The Maid of Naboo was still so very young for the role she had to play in the world.

At long last he spoke. "Do you trust me, your Highness?"

Padmé smiled. "Of course I do. I've known you all my life, Obi-Wan. I know you'll do whatever is in your power to bring Palpatine to justice. Trust has nothing to do with my concerns. I'm afraid for you Obi-Wan; afraid for my people and, ashamed as I am to admit it, afraid for myself."

Obi-Wan returned her smile. "The road is long and troubled by the wolves that run," he tilted her chin upwards, "but in that we can succeed."

Her reply was nothing more than the faintest murmur in his ear. "My courage old friend, and my spirit, is so much less than it once was. I cannot see as my father once did. I have neither his confidence nor his rationality of mind. How am I to rule a country which has split down the middle?"

"Your eyes see perfectly, Padmé. When the time comes you will rule just as your father did," he said and clasped her hands. "Have a little more faith. The Jedi are not beaten down so easily as that."

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Trinity Day: Thank you very much for giving my story a chance, I really appreciate that! I will try my best to keep everything as balanced as I can. My stories (er, my new stories that is - ignore everything else I have on! They're very old) are usually based on or inspired by historical events, different cultures etc; the research is what I enjoy most.

Padawan Sydney Bristow: Really? Wow, I've never heard that before. I was always led to believe Naberrie was perhaps a false or middle name. Thank-you very much for the information!

SoloKenobi: Haha, glad to have you hooked! I live in Scotland on the west coast (we're the poor buggers getting all the storms) Are you here for a holiday? (if so...why? lol ) I studied the Scottish Wars of Independence in my first year of college and I fell in love with the topic. Hope you're enjoying your class )

Saber Girls: Thank you very much, I hope you liked the update!