Chapter 3 – age 19
Four years later...
Through the exquisitely carved wooden doors and into the stately ancient halls of the Temple Library, a tall young man of nineteen strolled in, looking about the place with an air of utter confidence. He was well-known among the Jedi, accepted as one of the finest swordsmen in his class, strong and graceful. In dark tunics, with short blonde hair, cut in a Padawan style, and the ever present braid swinging with each step, the Jedi apprentice knew his place and his place was here within the Jedi Order. Anakin Skywalker, Padawan to Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, was expert with the blade, piloting skills second to none, mission experienced and quietly rumored to be the Chosen One of legend.
Near the entrance, a cluster of senior Padawans were gathered around a long table, heads huddled together as they discussed some business of the Temple. Anakin observed wryly, Or maybe, they're enjoying the daily gossip.
Anakin glanced towards them, recognizing several. One of the gaggle saw him, smiled, then spoke quietly to the others. The whole group raised their collective heads and a couple waved to him, gesturing him over. He just shook his head and mouthed 'Mission'. And, nodding, the group subsided back into their meeting.
He moved into the stacks of glowing datapads, looking for a quiet terminal where he could work in peace. Anakin looked about him, noting the lovely vast spaces, majestic and regal, the datapad stacks climbing into the far distance of the glorious sunlit windows. He reflected wryly that the great Library had not changed in the nearly ten years he had been at the Temple, still quiet, still beautiful, still filled with wondrous knowledge.
Except for that fiendish hag, this place is perfect. The Padawan shook his head in incredulity as a grim smile hardened his face, his eyes narrowing in bitter remembrance. Quite a balance between the beautiful and the damned... I wonder where that Sith demon is lurking now. Probably dissecting some wiggling creature and enjoying the screams as it died. May she burn for all eternity.
He shrugged his shoulders to ease the sudden tension and frowned. The tainted memories of that witch were like a forgotten stench bubbling onto the fine marbled surface of the tiled floors or acid etching the stately beauty of the Library's windows. The halls of knowledge were less than what they could have been, because of her.
Enough! To hate her is to give her power, you idiot. Focus on the here and now. Focus on your mission.
He turned with a relaxing smile to the unused terminal and sat down. His hands were swiftly moving onto the keypad, asking for any information on Padmé Amidala, Senator from Naboo. He hadn't seen the breathtakingly beautiful girl in ten years, not since the Battle of Theed.
The Blockade of Naboo. Ah, there was an exploit worthy of the annals of the Jedi. In the midst of that heated battle, young Anakin had become a champion, using the Force and his own incredible luck to blow up that Sith-damned Trade Federation starship, virtually ending the war. He didn't talk much about that time with his Master. At first, he had been eager to recount his exploits, claiming much needed attention for his deeds and rightly so. After all, it was by his hand that the battle was won. But no one seemed interested, especially his Master who looked at him with anguish-filled eyes whenever the event was mentioned, and so the subject was dropped as other momentous matters took precedence.
Now, he would see the lovely Senator again.
Ah, Padmé... he mused, I wonder if she has forgotten about me. I remember her well, very well indeed.
Anakin had been certain, from the first moment they met, that the lovely Padmé would, someday, be his wife. Never mind that he was a slave at the time and she a Queen. The absolute conviction remained as he grew older. It didn't matter that it was forbidden for a Jedi to marry, or that he hadn't seen or heard from her in all that time. It didn't make any difference to him. He knew, with utter confidence, that she would be his, he just knew it.
Over the long years, he had thought about the beautiful girl every day. At first, he dreamed about the happy times, quiet laughter as some silliness that R2 had gotten into, innocent memories that invaded his psyche and brought him joy. As he grew older, however, the dreams became more intense, more sensual, almost disturbing to the young Jedi. Several times, recently, he had woken bathed in sweat, reeling from some experience that left him breathless and longing for more.
Of course, he didn't tell his Master about such fantasies. The thought of discussing them brought a blush to his still-maturing face. Besides, what would Obi-Wan know of the longing and excitement that filled my nights? Master, with a woman, with anyone... the whole idea was ridiculous... he thought, giving a little chuckle.
But, now he was going to see her again. The very concept was intoxicating.
Humming a tuneless ditty, Anakin brought up the files on Padmé Amidala. He had kept up with her career from the beginning, following her exploits first as Queen and now Senator. Now, astonishingly, he and Master Obi-Wan were assigned to guard her. His smile grew wider. Anakin was delighted, eager to investigate some of the more intimate details of her life...for the mission, of course. Where she goes, what she does, what meetings she attends and with whom, her likes and dislikes... especially her likes with regard to friends, male friends...
Focus, you imbecile. Focus on the mission... not on whether she will be happy to see you when you finally meet again. Anakin shook his head. Of course, she will be happy, maybe more than happy... And his face broke into a wide, disarming grin.
His database investigations had brought up a recent 3D holopic of Padmé, serious and exquisite, in a purple gown that set off the color of her soft brown eyes and lustrous hair and showed the perfection of her form. Anakin's breath caught in a quick gasp and turned ragged as he stared at such a wonder. His face flushed, heart beginning to pound, he reached to touch her face...
"Still investigating are we, Padawan?" The thready, onerous sound brought him out of his sensual reverie as he turned to see that old Sith-bred draigon, Jocasta Nu. Her thin smile turned into a sly smirk as she stared first at him and then at Padmé's likeness.
"Preparing for a mission, Ma'am," Anakin's voice was flat and hard, venom seeping in. Damn her!
"Yes, Senator Amidala is in grave danger, from her would-be assassins." The witch agreed. "Or perhaps more so from an apprentice who has other things on his mind..." The insinuation was strong.
Chuuba, she knows. Blast, how can she? The turbulent fear of discovery was quickly overcome as Anakin schooled his visage into one of utter calm. It seems that Master's lessons were not all ignored.
He looked up at his old enemy and spoke softly, firmly. "I don't know what you mean, Ma'am. If you will excuse me, I must complete my investigation by this afternoon."
"Pretense is unwise, Padawan. It can lead you astray. Didn't your Master teach you anything about lying to your betters?"
"Betters? And who would that be, Madam? Certainly not you, with your insidious slanders and continual complaints to my Master. You have tormented me for nearly ten years. Is that the behavior of a Jedi?" He deliberately turned back towards the terminal, continuing to scroll through the files. His shoulders were an entangled snare of pain as he tried to suppress his rising fury.
I cannot let her get to me this time. Not again. Blast her to the seven frigid hells of Ryloth!
"You are one to talk about Jedi behavior. It is a wonder to me that you haven't been dismissed long ago for your insolence. How a great Knight like Kenobi could have thought of taking you as his Padawan is laughable." Her eyes were blazing.
Anakin went very still for a moment. The tainted barb about his Master, the potent thought of Obi-Wan's rejection swirled in his mind, adding outrage to the simmering pot of emotions churning through the young apprentice. He stood abruptly, towering over his adversary.
"Madam Nu, whether you approve or not, I am Obi-Wan Kenobi's Jedi Padawan, assigned by the Council to guard the esteemed Senator from Naboo. This is a sanctioned mission with great import to the future of the Republic. You are standing in the way of my duty. Every second you seek to torment me, the Senator may be in greater danger. Now back off!"
She took a startled step backwards, her brittle voice, dripping with sarcasm. "Well, well, the impertinent apprentice has claws...You will not threaten me, Padawan."
He took a step forward, looking at her with pain-filled and puzzled eyes. He must get some answers and end this torment somehow. "I don't understand this. Why do you hate me so? What have I ever done to you to deserve this?"
She glared up at him, her ancient body trembling with anger. "Why should I bother to hate you, Chosen One? You are just an insignificant child."
"Chosen one? Is that why you torment me every chance you can? Because of that foolish prophecy? It's just a legend, a myth. It can't possibly be true."
"Oh, it's true all right. That prophecy, that legend is coming to pass even now. You are the Chosen One, the one who will bring... I've seen the records, damn you, I've read the whole of it. If you become a Jedi, you will bring balance. But at what cost..." She drew a shuddering breath and looked away, eyes unfocused, peering into the uneasy future. The pulsing blood-red aura of her hatred morphed into a bottomless sorrow with startling rapidity. Anakin just stood there for a moment, only now realizing what this harridan was saying.
"You're afraid of me..." he whispered, eyes widening in disbelief.
"No." Brought out of her bleak reverie, she shook her head, scowling at him.
"Fear leads to suffering. I have been suffering all these years because of your fear." Anakin's anger was rising again, thinking of all the barbs, the persecutions, the fights with his Master over this...this woman's misguided and unwarranted obsessions.
"No."
"The legends are just fables, foolish delusions of some far-off future that will never come to pass." Anakin frowned at the Archivist, his mouth tight with contempt.
"Those legends are true. Don't you understand? The Jedi have been guardians of peace and justice for a thousand generations and we serve only the Light. Only the Force." Her voice was rising, shrill and thin with dread. "Yet in that blaze of light is the shadow, the Darkside, aching for balance."
Her bark of mocking laughter was sharp. "Balance! What fool would want this? For the Jedi's light must go out of the universe if balance is to be fulfilled." She stared at him again. "You are the Chosen One, the one to bring destruction to the Order. Those idiots on the Council refuse to see it. Kenobi will not listen. But I know. I've seen the records. You must not become a Jedi. You will turn to the Darkside...and we will be annihilated."
"Never! I will never turn to the Dark." His roar of denial echoed into the cavernous spaces.
She didn't look at him but past him, deep into her own despair, rocking slightly. "I tried so hard to get them to dismiss you. I argued and cajoled but they would not listen, stubborn fools. Knew they would never change their minds. You were so young, I thought...I thought I could get you to leave, to give up and go home to your mother. Tormented you, spread lies about you. Stubbornly, you would not go. You are more obstinate than they."
The Padawan just stood there, thunderstruck. "How could you do this?"
Her eyes held his gaze. "To save the Order, I would kill you myself. But... it's not too late, Anakin. Not too late. Leave the Temple, go home. Save us all from this."
"No, you old fool. I've had enough of your rantings." he thundered.
Madam Jocasta Nu, his sworn enemy, looked into Anakin's clouded, furious face and repeated slowly with absolute conviction. "Chosen One, you will bring death to us all." She shook her head, looking past the apprentice to the pillars and stacks of the exquisite Library, taking in its peace and stately grandeur, its art and beauty and saw not the great hall but some far future place of when all was lost.
The Librarian looked at Anakin again, in fear and loathing, and then quickly scuttled away, whispering. "You must not become a Jedi."
Anakin was adamant as he shouted after her rapidly retreating figure. "I will be a Jedi. You are wrong. I will never turn. Never!"