Part 1
Plot: Sold from one owner to the next after his dragon abilities are discovered, Anakin finally ends up with Obi-Wan as his... handler. Except, Obi-Wan isn't a slaver like all the others, and he's also far nicer. And Anakin can do little to free the young Togruta Jedi, Ahsoka, who was recently sold into slavery, no matter how hard he tries. The most he can do is help her survive.
Author's Note: This is for the Obikin 2023 bingo. :)
Warnings: Torture, slavery, child abuse, non-consensual touching, and indications of a certain something, though it didn't actually happen. O_O
~ Amina Gila
"The sun dragon is a beast that lives inside a star, guarding everything it treasures. Nothing could hurt it. Not fire, not flame. It survived through the most impossible circumstances, even life in the core of a star. Because the sun-dragon had the biggest heart in the galaxy, a burning furnace powerful enough to protect everything and everyone it loved."
It was a story that carried a far deeper meaning than those who heard it as nothing but a fleeting fairytale. It was also a promise, a reassurance, and more than that, a light to guide him on the darkest night. Anakin could understand that even if he was only four. He understood the hidden message most of all because his mother didn't have to tell him that he was the sun dragon for him to know that.
It was an energy that hummed beneath his skin, a constant burning knowledge, and whenever he delved deep enough into that... energy around him, that energy – whatever it was that helped him feel things, sense things before they happened, something that always surprised the other slave children – he would feel himself, shifting, transforming. He was the sun dragon, because a real dragon was hidden in his heart, every moment, even if no one knew it but his mother.
Anakin squirms around in Shmi's arms, trying to get a better look at the dark sky above them, stars dotting the endless expanse. Nal Hutta was never pretty like this at night.
"Why do the moons look funny?" he asks, eyes wide as he watches the usual brilliant light of the two largest moons transforming into something dark, fading to a pinkish red glow.
"They're the eyes of the sun dragon," Shmi replies, smiling faintly.
"It watching us," Anakin says, brightening.
"It watches over all of us."
"I be like it someday," he insists, a determination burning inside of him as fierce as the dragon that constantly hums under his skin. He will, and no one will ever hurt his mother or any of his friends again, once he's bigger.
"You already are like it," she reminds, softly.
"It doesn't hide," Anakin objects, staring up at the red moons – eyes of the dragon. No one can know what he is, that he's a real sun dragon, or the slavers will hurt him. Or they'll sell him away from his mother, and that can't happen.
"When the sun dragon was small, it couldn't reveal itself as openly as it is now. In time, Ani, you won't have to hide."
**w**
Anakin still remembers every moment of that conversation, even sixteen years later. Whether she had said those words because she truly believed them or because she was trying to comfort him when he was scared and lost, he... still hasn't found what she's promised yet.
He's spent his entire life hiding because he's too scared to do anything more. That's even more true now in some ways than it ever was before.
But it's still a reassurance he can turn, too, whenever he truly needs it, which is... much of time.
Even if it always feels like he's failing to be enough. He failed to protect his mother, and he failed to protect that – that Twi'lek girl. And he's had no one since. Not really. At least... not until now.
"Anakin?" a voice asks, dragging him out of the depths of his mind, back to the very real field of grass surrounding him. The moon that shines brightly overhead here lights up the grass, in much the same way the moons of Tatooine did a lifetime ago.
It's been so long since he was last there.
He blinks, turning to look at his companion.
"You appear to be on another planet," Obi-Wan says, tone slightly amused.
"That isn't inaccurate," Anakin informs him with more cheer than he feels. The longing is eating him up right now, as it often does whenever he looks at the stars. Whenever he wonders where his mother is right now. He hasn't seen her since he was nine. She's been all alone since, and anything could have happened to her in the last eleven years.
He was supposed to be the sun dragon, strong enough to protect everyone he loves, and yet, he can't even protect her.
The only person he can protect is... someone he doesn't know if he should care about with nearly the fierceness he does, but he can't make it stop, any more than he can cut the dragon out of his heart.
Obi-Wan shifts closer, holding out ration bars. "Here. I'm sure you're hungry by now."
Anakin nods gratefully, taking it from him, holding back the instinctive urge to thank him for it.
"You don't need to say that every time. Do you really think I wouldn't feed you? You're one of us," he'd said, the last time Anakin had done it, anyway.
He isn't one of them, though. He doesn't want to be, either. He doesn't want to become what they are, doesn't want any part with it at all, actually.
He... he's different. He's their weapon, their asset, even if he's... free. (He's supposed to be free. But then why does he feel like he owes them so much? Why does he still have no idea what that word means? He would have walked out already, but he – he's always had a master even if now it's unofficial, and the mere thought of just trying to walk out is... Besides, he knows how many out there still want him because of what he is, and it's... been best for him here. He's just... too scared to do anything about it.)
The criminal gang Obi-Wan is part of picked Anakin up only a couple months ago, rescued him from the slavers who bought him after realizing what he was. He was supposed to hide that he was a sun dragon until he was strong enough, but it... failed.
Someone was about to hurt his mother, and instantly the fury and desperation had overcome him. He'd lashed out, and that feeling had overcome him along with an overhwleming panic. He couldn't let himself transform into a dragon or they would know but trying to stop with simply his fear seemed to make the transformation happen faster.
Jabba sent his guards to pick him up, right after.
"Maybe once this is over, we can stop somewhere to have some real food," Obi-Wan comments reflectively, setting the canteens of water in the grass between them.
"That would be... appealing," Anakin supplies, almost robotically biting down on the ration bar in his hand.
He can feel Obi-Wan's blue eyes studying him, without having to look up. "Are you alright?" he asks, voice oddly gentle.
It's... strange. He never thought someone who wasn't a slave would talk to him like that. And Obi-Wan isn't a slave. He's... one of the gang members – the blaster, knives, and whatever other weapons he has stashed on him proof enough of that.
"I've been thinking," he replies, quietly, "About my mother."
"I checked that Toydarian's shop myself, Anakin. And who he said he... sold her off to. She wasn't there. Tracking her down isn't going to be easy."
He knows that, and it doesn't help. Except, it's a small comfort that Obi-Wan was willing to go look at all, when Anakin finally gathered enough courage to ask him in the first place. "I know." His gaze drops back to the grass, idly tracing patterns in the waves that ripple through it, when the breezes blow softly.
He starts slightly when Obi-Wan's hand lightly touches his shoulder, the gesture almost awkward like he doesn't really know how to show any physical affection. Probably, he's never been shown any.
Anakin leans into it just a little, briefly closing his eyes and just being for a moment.
He has to find her again, no matter how hopeless it seems. She's his mother. The only parent he's ever had. (He opts not to think about the tiny voice in his mind that disagrees with that, that whispers Obi-Wan is something of a parent figure too. As much of a father as he might ever know.)
The hand moves up after a moment, lightly touching his cheek. It's rough, calloused, speaking of the years of... crime he's lived in. (Sometimes, he wonders how much blood are on these hands. Sometimes, he thinks he'd prefer to never know. Obi-Wan isn't a slaver, but he's of a class of people that isn't exactly that much better. But Obi-Wan is... nice to him. He wishes he could pretend that was true for how he treats everyone else.)
"Once this mission is over, if we get the credits we're counting on, the boss might let us go for a while, and we can look for her," he promises.
"Can we?" Anakin asks, a surge of relief flooding him as he looks up.
"There's a chance."
He gives him a small, almost shy smile. "Thank you."
The emotion just seems to make Obi-Wan uncomfortable, though, because he just nods, pulling back.
It feels a little like a weight was just lifted from him, even if he shouldn't be getting his hopes yet. But half of why he's still sane is because of hope.
"Obi-Wan..." Anakin begins, in all seriousness, "You forgot the most important step before the mission."
He frowns, instantly worried, and Anakin tries very hard to smother his smirk. "What?"
"You haven't cleaned your boots yet."
The way Obi-Wan's expression flashes from worried to confused to annoyed makes it entirely worth it. "I thought you had something of actual importance to remind me of."
"But it is. It might ruin the image." Seriously though, he doesn't understand why Obi-Wan cares about cleanliness in some cases, when he it certainly doesn't influence his job choice. And it's not as if Anakin isn't used to always being dirty.
Obi-Wan huffs, though Anakin can sense his amusement. "Why do I tolerate your audacity?" he grumbles.
Anakin laughs.
"I'll take first watch," Obi-Wan volunteers, "You need to be ready to fly us."
Anakin nods, gratefully. He finishes downing his meal, before shifting to stretch out in the soft grass. He's slept in worse places before, like Jabba's rancor pit. This is comfortable.
It took a long time before he was... comfortable enough to sleep in front of Obi-Wan, without expecting a violent awakening, but he's... grown used to it. (Enough that he actually feels strangely safe.)
Anakin doesn't remember falling asleep, but he awakens to Obi-Wan calling his name, sometime later. The moon is setting now, plunging the already dark valley into almost complete darkness. "It's time to go," he says, moving towards him.
Anakin can only see him so well because his eyes have adjusted to the dark, and maybe a little because of the dragon inside of him.
"Are you ready?" he asks, shaking himself fully to wakefulness and standing.
"Yes. We had best get moving or the others will get there first." Why the gang leader, Azmorigan, causes this constant strife between members of his own gang, Anakin can't understand. It seems entirely ineffective.
He reaches outwards for the energy that he can also sense surrounding him, tingling at the edge of his senses constantly, and lets it flood through him. He doesn't know how to actively use it beyond this, the way he's heard in legends that the Jedi do, but he doesn't have to.
He feels the burning warmth of energy way inside of him flare to life, and the changing sensation starts spreading through him, twisting and transforming him. It's accomplished with the familiar ache as his body is twisted and contorted, but it's nothing for the kind of injuries he's actually used to. It's over in only a few seconds.
He's somewhere close to twenty feet high now at full height. The golden scales that now cover his entire body would glint brightly in the moonlight, if it hadn't already set. His tail is long, dragging many feet in the grass behind him.
Obi-Wan approaches, swinging onto his back, wrapping his arms around his neck so he doesn't fall. He can feel sensations through his scales, even if not quite as acutely as normal touch.
"Don't fall off this time," Anakin says, cheerfully, though to any normal human it would just sound like a low snarl.
But Obi-Wan can touch the energy, too, even if he's not trained in it. He's the only one who can communicate with Anakin in this form. He can feel it, as Obi-Wan nudges against his mind, to interpret what he's saying. "I did not fall off that time," he huffs.
"Yes, you did!"
"That time we fell into that nest of Gundarks –" Obi-Wan starts.
"You fell into that nightmare, and I rescued you, remember?"
"Oh. Yes," he concedes, grudgingly.
Anakin flaps his wings, running across the grass, wind whipping past his scales until he has enough momentum to take off, soaring into the sky.
No matter how much pain his dragon abilities have brought him, being able to fly like this is never something he could regret. Traveling through the sky with nothing to hold him back. It's the only thing in all his life that's ever made him feel truly free.
**w**
He can smell the death in the air, the bodies of the Zygerrian guards littering the ground, with still smoking blaster shots. It would mean freedom, if not for the slave collar around his neck, fitted large enough for his dragon size. But guards or no, he's still no less chained now than he ever has been.
The gangsters surrounding him all have their blasters raised, pointing at him.
They aren't here to free him. He already knows that, as vividly as he remembers Jabba's henchmen ripping him away from Shmi and dragging him to the palace. They threw him to the rancor to make him fight. It... was just an animal that he'd killed there, but something about the bloodiness, the fight to the death, always sticks out in his mind.
And then, they kept him imprisoned down there instead. As though they expected that by starving him, he'd somehow be willing to serve the same purpose that the rancors did.
He still remembers the first Twi'lek girl they threw to him, as if they actually expected he was going to hurt her, no matter how hungry he was. Even if the dragon in him – and whatever animalistic instincts it gave him – had whispered at him attack.
He waited, until because of the disappointed crowd, Jabba sent the rancor's former owner down there to make him... cooperate. He'd lashed out, killing him – the first person he ever killed. He was a slaver, but that was also a moment he never forgot. Never could forget.
He tried to escape with the girl, but they hadn't made it far. He thought they were both condemned to death anyway so it wouldn't matter, but it was only the Twi'lek who was. He still remembers the vibroblade running through her heart, before the guards dragged Anakin back to Jabba.
They were going to kill him, but a representative of another crime family stepped in. They... offered Jabba a fortune in exchange for him. So he could be their pet instead.
He's been passed off from owner to owner, sometimes stolen, ever since, until he reached the Zygerrians.
And now... until he reached the very gangsters who are surrounding him now. He doesn't know who they are or what they want, but no one's been much better than any of the others. They're always the owners and he's their... their pet plaything.
Anakin snarls at them, wings flapping, as they step closer, brandishing their weapons.
"Stop it. You're scaring him," snaps one of them, circling around to stand in front of him. He looks no less of a gangster than the rest, but... there's something about him that whispers of familiarity, though Anakin doesn't understand why. He's never seen the ginger-haired man in his life, before.
"We're not here to hurt you," he says, taking a few steps closer, lowering his blaster to the grass between them.
Anakin insticively draws his wings towards himself, protectively. He can't believe that. That's never been true before. If they don't hurt him, it's because they want him nice and shiny, and –
"C"mon, It's just an animal," one of the others scoffs.
The man shoots him a hard look. "No, he isn't."
Anakin watches him, warily, eyes flicking between the group in case someone else tries approaching. Not that there's anything he can do if they do. He already knows where this is going to go.
The man takes a few steps closer, and he feels something warm – like the energy that it takes to transform him into the dragon – nudging lightly against his mind.
The man... can do this, too? But he can't be a Jedi, or he wouldn't be in a place like this. Once, Anakin believed the Jedi would rescue him someday. Now he knows better.
"What's your name?" the man asks, pausing a few paces in front of him.
... What?
No one's asked him that in a long time. Why would anyone? It could be a trick question. It usually is. It was for the Zygerrian Queen, at least.
He tries to imagine saying it, saying the name he hasn't been allowed to say in months now, and he just –
Anakin insticively draws his wings closer to himself, as though they can somehow protect him from anything. "Vader." The word comes out barely more than a whisper.
The man studies him, taking a step closer. "Vader," he repeats, something calming in his tone. It might have worked, if not for how much Anakin hates hearing that name. "We aren't here to hurt you."
"What do you want?" he asks, even if it's a pointless question. Whatever lies the man tells, Anakin already knows what he wants. He's just a – a thing to anyone who isn't a slave like him.
"We're here to take you with us. You're free."
He's free? Anakin can't believe that. No one's told him that before, though. He doesn't know that that's a lie, but he's too scared to believe it.
The man steps closer, reaching out to touch him.
Icy cold fear flares up instantly, flooding him. Anakin jerks back, hissing at him. (He can still feel the unwanted hands on him, running over his scales, and he doesn't want anyone to touch him in this form again. If the man really isn't like – like the Zygerrians, then he won't press.)
The man starts slightly, but he takes a step back, holding up his hands. "Alright. Alright. I won't touch you." He sounds the tiniest bit miffed, but he doesn't push it. "Are there more... dragons like you?"
Sometimes, he wishes he weren't the only one cursed with this. (It's not a curse if he's like the sun dragon. He knows that, but it really doesn't feel like it sometimes.) "I don't know. I... shapeshift."
A hint of surprise flickers across the man's face. "This isn't your only... form?"
"No."
"Can you shapeshift back?"
It's been... so long since he was able to do that. He whines quietly, flicking his tail. "You have to take the collar off."
The Zygerrians wouldn't risk him taking off when he was in dragon form, and nor could they risk him turning back to a person with the much larger collar to flee. The collar is programmed to electrocute him on spot if he starts changing sizes while wearing it.
He did that once, by accident. Never made that mistake again.
"Alright. But I'm going to have to come closer to do that."
Does he really mean it? Anakin... doesn't know, but he reluctantly crouches obediently on the ground in front of him, lowering his head to reachable height.
"What are you doing?" one of the other gangsters asks, "Are you letting it go? It's gonna take off."
"He is not an animal," the man snaps, stepping up to him.
"If you lose it," one of the others retorts, "We're putting all the blame on you."
Anakin's scaled claws clench nervously in the dirt beneath him. The others definitely are here just to take him as their – their pet. Even if the man isn't. But Anakin knows better than to trust him right off just because he's nice. Slavers can play nice to get what they want sometimes, too.
The man reaches up, fiddling with the mechanism before the collar finally comes off. "You're free," he tells him, again.
Anakin still doesn't know if he can believe it.
**w**
The Zygerrians had attacked right after that, and he'd fought them off, under the promise that they'd protect him, that he was free. But it was that that... made Azmorigan's gangsters realize his use as a weapon.
Even if he's staying here of his own free will. (Is he, though? It's not like he can just walk out.) They – Obi-Wan at least – were protecting him from people far worse, taking care of him in the way no one else did in the past. He has more freedom to move here, to be, even if he... can't fathom doing anything other than what they tell him to do. He's never been able to before. He has no idea what that's like, what that would mean.
But he tries to let those thoughts slip from mind as he flies, feeling the wind whip past him. He's free at least so long as he's in the sky.
But he's coming up on the encampment now. Dots of light spot the tree line below, and Anakin dives for the ground, suddenly enough that Obi-Wan yelps.
He smothers a laugh.
"That was unnecessary. I tell you that every time," Obi-Wan grumbles.
"Brace yourself for it to happen again," he says cheerily, as he lowers himself to the ground right outside the heaviest part of the tree line. It's hard to land near them, with how much room his wings need.
Anakin turns his focus to that burning warmth inside of him, willing to travel back to his center, and he can feel himself shifting again, until he's human again.
They set off into the trees together, approaching the camp up ahead.
Obi-Wan behind some heavy brush, pulling out macrobinoculars to check out positions. Anakin can sense as much as see the frown that twists his face, before he looks up. "This isn't who we came here for."
"What do you mean?" Anakin asks, a prickle of unease running through him, though he can't fully say why. Something's not right. Not even just about this mission, but something more long-term.
"Republic forces weren't the ones holding the cargo. They must have seized it before we got here."
"Can I see?" Anakin asks, shifting closer. Obi-Wan passes him the macrobinoculars, and he zeroes in on the figures moving between the trees up ahead.
There are clones there, part of the Republic's mysterious army that appeared out of nowhere a year ago when the war broke out. The war hasn't affected him much, though, except that it means supplies are harder to come by for everyone.
And – Wait.
There's a Jedi there too.
A Togruta girl, who looks very young to be out here alone. She's just a kid. Everyone here is – Anakin's heard the clones age twice as fast so they're only half his age, and even physically, none of them are older than him, that he's heard of.
This isn't just another crime group that he's... okay with attacking since he doesn't have much other choice.
"We need to pull back," Anakin says, no matter how hesitant he always is about expressing... contrary opinions to anyone.
"What?" He sounds entirely confused, and the sick feeling that crawls through Anakin sometimes, thinking about the things he knows Obi-Wan's done, is...
"We can't hurt them," he insists, firmly. "If the Republic found this... cargo important enough to seize, maybe it's for the best."
Obi-Wan's expression twitches, and Anakin can tell he's distinctly not pleased. "Our mission was to get it no matter the cost, Anakin. We can take it without... killing anyone, but we can't leave it."
Could they? Maybe, but it would still be a fight and he's pretty sure the clones are slaves to the Republic and what would happen to them if he ruined their mission? Besides, this could be something dangerous. He doesn't know what it is. Doesn't even know if Obi-Wan does – they're simply following the orders they were given. "We'd still hurt them," Anakin argues, and he's perfectly okay with beating up other criminals to steal from them – he doesn't kill anyone even if Obi-Wan does – but he's not doing that to people who don't deserve it at all.
Obi-Wan shakes his head, stubborn as he always is. "There's no choice, Anakin. If we return without the –"
"Hey!" a voice calls sharply, and Anakin jumps, looking up as a spotlight falls on them, from a clone's helmet.
Kriff.
They've been spotted.
A rush of panic floods him a second later. There's no way this won't end in a fight, and then, he'll have no choice but to hurt these people, and he doesn't want to. He's so tired of being a weapon. It's a risk, but Anakin reaches inwards instantly, letting that energy flood him, shifting and transforming him in a second, He swings his tail at the clone, throwing him back before he can get hurt, then Anakin spins towards Obi-Wan, catching him with his front legs – ignoring his yelps and squirming – making a break for the nearest clearing where he can take off.
Blaster shots ring out through the trees behind him as he takes off, some narrowly missing, but that energy he always feels helps direct him as dodges the blasts, flashing brightly against the darkness of the sky, until he's safely out of range.
He doesn't land until they're a safe distance away, heart still pounding wildly. Sucking in any air, even without the wind whipping across his face is nigh impossible now.
He ruined the mission, right after he was warned against it. He – he's never tried disobeying direct orders before, not here, and one look on the stormy look on Obi-Wna's face when he turns to face him makes Anakin... quickly opt for staying a dragon for this conversation.
He won't hit him. He... won't. Right? But Anakin has no idea because Obi-Wan's never been angry at him before. Irritated yes, but not – not like this.
At least if he's a dragon, whatever happens won't hurt. Even if he's just as inclined to make himself small and invisible.
"Anakin."
He takes a step away, wings wrapping around himself, protectively. "We couldn't hurt them," he objects, desperately.
"Are you quite aware of what failure of this nature could mean?" he demands, sharply.
No. And he doesn't want to, either. "You told me I was free," he blurts finally, frantically. Because he has no idea what that means to not have to worry about upsetting anyone, and he's only realizing how true that still is now.
Obi-Wan's gaze flicks over him, and some of the anger fades just a little from his expression. "You are, Anakin, but that has nothing to do with this."
Nothing to do with this? Anakin doesn't understand how it doesn't, but he – he ought to be quiet, apologize probably – But he's so tired of doing that to everyone, always. "If I am –"
"This isn't a choice for either of us get to make, Anakin. We still have someone to answer to." Obi-Wan's afraid, too. It's not the first time Anakin's realized it, but he can clearly see it now, in the tightness of his expression – he just gets angry as a cover for that.
His own sheer frustration at the situation doesn't fade, but the slight pang of guilt worms its way through him, even if it's not – there was no other decision he would make. Better whatever's about to happen than hurting people.
"I'm sorry," Anakin whispers, "But I can't – we can't do that."
"It's too late now either way," Obi-Wan replies, tone clipped, "If we went back now, they'd be expecting us."
Maybe Anakin shouldn't feel so much relief at the words, but he can't help it. At least he... won't have to argue with him about this. He... didn't expect the night to go this way, and he... hates how he feels now, all the questions that he's buried for years dragged to the surface again, of what he... still is. And of what will happen next. He hates that uncertainty just as much. (There's no secret what happens to useless slaves, and he doesn't think he can keep pretending that he isn't one.)
"We'll have to return to base," Obi-Wans says shortly, turning away, "And this time, pay attention my lead."
He tries to ignore the way the words sting, the way they burrow under his skin with the quiet whisper of slave, that's all you've ever been. You're not the sun dragon. You're too weak for that. You always will be.
**w**
The pain in Anakin's wing is sharp and burning, and it hurts, even if he's used to far worse. He's never been shot in the wing before, to be fair. It's the first mission he's been sent on so it's not surprising he was shot that easily.
He didn't want to do it, but no one was really asking him. Beating up a group of Zygerrians and taking the things they get through slavery themselves isn't something he has a reason to regret, even if he doesn't know how much better the people that he's with now are. He hasn't seen any slaves here though, and that's... something.
"I wouldn't suggest shifting back," Obi-Wan says, appearing right near him, though he's always careful to keep a pointed distance between them.
Anakin is... grateful for that. He can't handle people being too close to him, in his dragon form.
"I know," he says, trying to stop his wing from automatically twitching. Moving it at all hurts.
"If you're alright with it, I can... treat it," Obi-Wan offers, a hint of concern in his eyes. Anakin can only guess what it looks like, the area around the hole burned black to ash.
He hesitates instinctively, but it... someone has to do it, and it's already confusing in and of itself that Obi-Wan is even offering in the first place. No one does that, except other slaves.
"Yes, thank you," he replies, a little shyly, twisting to rest his head on his front feet.
Obi-Wan approaches cautiously, finger trailing lightly along his wing near the injury – not close enough to hurt. He... hasn't been touched by anyone since the Queen (he'll never forget the feel of the hands running over him, when he doesn't want it) but for Obi-Wan it's... different. It doesn't have that twisted possessive you are mine, and you will always kneel at my feet where I want you feel that the Queen always did, when she kept him in his throne room, chained to her throne. Or when she rode him, as her favorite transport.
"Do you want any pain meds while this heals... Vader?" he asks, hands lightly brushing over the wing as he bandages the wound.
Anakin twitches slightly at the name. "Would it work when I'm transformed?" He doesn't really know how dragon metabolism would work in that regard. He's certainly a lot hungrier as one.
"Possibly," Obi-Wan muses, "It wouldn't hurt to try."
"It's okay," he replies, no matter how much he might like it, "We don't need to waste anything –"
Obi-Wan makes a clearly irked noise that Anakin can't entirely decipher the meaning of. "Vader, you won't be wasting anything. We're the ones who took you out there, and you were injured because of it."
He doesn't really know what to say to that. Doesn't want to push too far, either. "It's fine," Anakin assures, just to be safe.
Obi-Wan doesn't reply immediately; several long moments of silence drag by as he works. "Are you certain your name is Vader?" he asks, unexpectedly.
What? Why would he – Anakin stiffens, instinctively. "Why are you... asking?"
"You seem uncomfortable whenever I address you with that name."
Anakin's gaze averts to the grass, remembering the time the Queen heard he was using his birth name instead of the name she gifted him. Something he was apparently supposed to be grateful for.
Obi-Wan isn't a slaver. He's not... But that doesn't stop the fear that freezes him, no matter how furious he is at – at being forced to use a name other than the one his mother gave him.
But he's so sick of it, and he doesn't have a reason to lie about it, does he? He trusts Obi-Wan, even if he doesn't really know why. Even if he has no idea why Obi-Wan even cares what his name is in the first place.
"No," he breathes finally, "It... isn't. My name is Anakin."
He hums noncommittally. "You're free, Anakin," he tells him suddenly, voice surprisingly soft, "By whatever name you would prefer to go by."
... What?
Why does he care? "Why... does it matter to you?" he asks, confused.
"I know names can be... important to people," Obi-Wan supplies which answers everything and nothing at all, except as a reminder that Anakin really knows nothing about him as a person. He's just... nice to him, and Anakin contents himself with that for now.
"This should be set, but it'll be a while before you can shift back," Obi-Wan says finally, stepping back. Anakin flaps his wing just a little experimentally, nearly smacking Obi-Wan in the face in the process.
"Sorry," he blurts, instantly anticipating violence but none comes.
He huffs. "I'd recommend going easy on how much you're using that." Obi-Wan circles around to stand in front of him, holding out a...
Pain killers, he realizes.
"Hopefully this will be enough."
Why is he doing any of this? "Thank you," Anakin breathes again, leaning forwards to very awkwardly eat them out of Obi-Wan's hand.
"You can stop saying that," he says, and he almost looks uncomfortable, "There's nothing you need to be so grateful for."
Anakin rather disagrees, but he doesn't dispute the point. Nor does he object when Obi-Wan lightly reaches up, tracing a hand across the scales on his snout.
He's missed being touched so much, by people he actually feels safe letting touch him.
**w**
Anakin knew the conversation with Azmorigan wasn't going to go well. The red and yellow skinned creature – he has no idea what species he is – has a way of talking that... Anakin doubts anyone would take him seriously if he didn't have enough control over everyone to make them listen.
Especially considering that he's too fat to even walk properly.
"We were overrun. There was nothing else we could have done," Obi-Wan replies firmly.
"But you still failed," Azmorigan snaps, "My other reports indicate an entirely different story than what you're saying." Anakin tries not to stiffen. "You never engaged the Republic troops. Another band of my men made it there after you and saw you leaving."
"We didn't have the numbers, not when we saw how many were there," Obi-Wan replies, stubbornly. Anakin can't deny his swell of gratitude, that Obi-Wan isn't... pinning this on him.
"You were far more effective before you picked up Vader. Our success has hardly increased at all," he snaps. Anakin hates it when the others use that name, but that's the one they were told first and... He can't say the others don't treat him the way the Zygerrians did. Many times, at least. "If he won't live up to his usefulness as a weapon, there are other places his skills can be better used."
"This has nothing to do with him," Obi-Wan argues, stepping forwards.
"You were to make him useful," Azmorigan snaps, as though he isn't standing right here, but Anakin can see very clearly what he's always been, so it shouldn't hurt as much as it does. He's their property, as much as he always has been.
"He's one of us," Obi-Wan counters, eyes narrowed.
"He has yet to prove that, and now, he will pay for losing my credits," Azmorgian snaps, "You know who we answer to, and this failure is intolerable." He gestures sharply to the guards, and Anakin's heartrate picks up instantly as they step forwards.
"Stop!" Obi-Wan demands, starting forwards, but several of the guards roughly shove him back, the same moment another grabs Anakin's arm, dragging him forwards, shoving him to his knees in front of Azmorigan.
No. No – he's... he's been in a place like this far too many times, and he can only imagine one of the million awful things that could be about to happen to him. It's too familiar, and he keeps his head up out of sheer stubbornness, even if there's no way everyone doesn't know how terrified he is. That doesn't mean he'll show it to them. Even if with how hard is heart is hammering, he'd be more surprised if everyone in the room couldn't hear it.
"You're going soft," sneers one of the others Anakin doesn't recognize, but he works closely with Azmorigan. "What do you think the boy is? Your kid? He belongs to us, and he's failing his purpose. You were supposed to make him useful by whatever means necessary."
He can hear Obi-Wan arguing something. He sounds furious, but no one is listening, and the guards are blocking his way, and Anakin doesn't risk looking around, either.
That usually leads to attention and attention is bad because that usually means being hit or something worse. Not that he isn't pretty sure something 'worse' is about to happen, anyway.
One of the guards steps closer, holding something, and Anakin only goes even more rigid when he realizes what it is.
"Stop this," Obi-Wan demands again, trying to move closer but someone hits him with a blaster, and he stumbles a step back.
These people hurt each other all the time. Force, why does Obi-Wan stay here? Why would anyone, if they can do something better with themselves, if they even have the choice to leave, like he never has?
Anakin draws in a shaky breath, trying to brace himself when he hears the whip crack through the air.
**w**
Everything hurts. A quiet moan escapes Anakin, and he twists slightly on the cold floor, finally prying his eyes open enough to look around. The room is tinted red, which is about all he needs to see to know he's in a cell somewhere.
Imprisoned, locked away, like – like the animal everyone sees him as. (No matter how hard he tries, he can never manage to be the sun dragon, it seems. Because at the end of the day, he always finds himself back where he started. A slave, with no way out.)
He could try breaking out, though. He'd have nothing to lose, not really. He'd hardly care if they killed him, but... his mother might still be out there somewhere, watching the stars for him to come back. To come free her, even if she would never blame him if he never comes. But it would still haunt him forever.
And Obi-Wan... he doesn't know what would happen to him, if... Or what is happening to him at all, actually. The guards were hurting him for trying to stand up for him. But he has no idea how to feel about – about what Azmorigan said Obi-Wan was supposed to be doing to him, not that he truly expected deep inside that anything else was true.
The sound of the ray shield deactivating is what fully jars Anakin to wakefulness. He lifts his head just enough to see, despite how raw his back feels. He'd rather not know just how bad it is. But the way his clothes are sticking to him, and how wet he feels, aside from the sheer stinging, cutting pain of it says more than he wants to know, already.
Obi-Wan is stepping into the cell quietly, and Anakin didn't quite expect that – that relief to see that he's fine, even if he's also apprehensive to know why he's here in the first place, especially remembering Obi-Wan's anger from before. Though most of all, he's too tired to feel much of anything at all.
Anakin twists his head to the side, to look at him. Even if he's half expecting to be hit again. He's the one who got Obi-Wan in trouble, and he... doesn't really know if there's anything else that does matter to him. Even if he – he's clearly not as free as he pretends to be. Anakin knows that, too. Maybe that's why he trusted him so much, maybe more than he should've.
A hand gently touches the side of his face, lightly brushing back the curls hanging in his face. "Anakin," he says quietly, now crouched next to him, something pained and surprisingly not angry in his voice, "I'm sorry."
W-what?
Something tightens sharply in his chest, the sheer reality of the emotions that were strangling him before rushing back.
Anakin does care about him, maybe too much for what Obi-Wan is, but he can't help it. And if he's apologizing for – for some reason, his... niceness can't have been entirely feigned. He knows that, even if it's still hard to entirely trust. That doesn't stop the stinging betrayal deep inside of him, though. It doesn't change the... the power difference between them that he's always tried to ignore, no matter how much he knew it was there.
"You said I was free," Anakin whispers, tears burning his eyes. He doesn't bother holding them back. Why would he? Obi-Wan isn't the – the others, and he doesn't understand the notion of self-consciousness that most people seem to have.
"You were," Obi-Wan replies, hand still resting on the side of his head, "Supposed to be."
"You knew I wasn't," he forces out, though it comes out hoarsely between the tears spilling down his cheeks, and from how dry his throat feels. How long has he been out?
Obi-Wan looks mildly freaked out over his... emotional display, but Anakin can't hold it back anymore. Everything's been strangling him for so long, and he's always clung to the hope that someday he'll be free, but sometimes, it feels so ridiculously impossible, a child's dream. He's not going to stop believing, but – but now he can truly see why his mother never thought she would be, even if she always encouraged Anakin to dream. It's not... realistic. It's not, and he's just –
"Don't l-lie," he retorts, though it just come out shaky, "You – you knew what I always was."
"All of us here have to... prove our worth," Obi-Wan replies, fingers lightly trailing through his hair as though some awkward effort at comfort that he doesn't seem quite sure how to give. Anakin can... appreciate the attempt anyway, and the... small level of protected that it gives him. "That's how it works."
"But it doesn't have to. It shouldn't. You can leave, can't you?" Or is that the problem?
"This isn't something that you can just walk out of," he replies, and there's a touch of bitterness there now, "You'll be hunted down and... dealt with, if you do. That's how it is."
"Do you... want to leave?" Anakin can't help asking, careful to keep his voice low.
Obi-Wan glances away from him, hand stilling for a moment. "I'll get you out of here, Anakin," he says, voice low but Anakin still hears it.
It – what? That also doesn't answer the question, but maybe he's not really comfortable answering.
"What about you?" Anakin presses, shifting to try and push himself up.
Obi-Wan's hand is on his shoulder in a second, pushing him back down. "Stay still. You shouldn't be moving right now."
"Obi-Wan –"
He huffs out a strained breath. "This is where I've been most of my life, Anakin. I never had reason to... think about anything else. Until you."
Anakin blinks up at him, the tears slowing their pace a little. "Why?" That's what he doesn't understand. It's not as if there's something special about him, any more than the countless other people Obi-Wan probably could've at least tried helping.
He seems almost uncomfortable again. "I have never... seen anyone with the heart you have, Anakin. Here, that only gets people killed. I... saw it as a weakness."
That... is not what he expected, but it's obvious from how the other gang members treat each other that that's... true. "You never had a family?" Anakin asks, uncertainly.
"Long ago, before I was... lost from them."
... What? What happened to him? "You don't ever... want to go back to them?"
"It was so long ago," Obi-Wan replies, tone unreadable, "I hardly remember them anymore. And I didn't come down here to talk about this. Your injuries need treatment. I'll... have to get your shirt off. Try to stay still."
Great.
Exactly what he's not looking forward to, now that the blood's already starting to dry, but Anakin nods anyway, bracing himself as Obi-Wan gets to work, trying to pry the fabric off.
He's decently certain from the sharp pain that flares up that it got ripped open in several places, but it's not as bad as it could've been. At least it's off now, and he hears Obi-Wan breathe in sharply as he looks over the wound.
"I've had worse," Anakin supplies, in case that would help.
Obi-Wan's expression darkens. "Who did worse than this to you?" he demands.
Anakin can't quite make sense of the fury in his voice. "The Queen. She was angry that I – I wasn't using the name she gifted me."
"Vader," Obi-Wan realizes, and Anakin nods, about as much as he can.
"I'll kill her," he says, flatly, "If she comes anywhere near you again. If any of them do."
He... has no idea what to say to that, or to the knowledge that someone would do that for him. He doesn't want people dying because of him, but for people like this – Well, the galaxy would be better off without. (And if the Queen was gone, he'd be able to rest easier at night, without the knowledge that she could come after him again. The other slavers were... bad, but for her, it was an obsession about him personally. It was different, and he has no doubt that things could've eventually gone... further than they did, with how she often acted.)
Anakin opts to stay silent, as Obi-Wan works, gently putting bacta on his back. It hurts, but at least it'll be healing now.
"I think that's the most I can do right now," Obi-Wan says grimly, finally sitting back.
"Thank you," Anakin breathes.
He sighs, something heavy in his gaze again. "We're the... ones who owe you far more than this, Anakin. Would you like some water?"
"Yes," he rasps, gratitude surging through him instantly at the question. Though how he'll even manage that is another story entirely.
Obi-Wan's hands are already on his shoulders though, helping him upright. Every movement hurts, but he clenches his teeth and forces himself to keep moving anyway. He's used to pain. He'll just have to deal with it. The bacta's already taken an edge off it.
Anakin gulps the water down the moment it's offered, almost wishing there was more.
"Do you want to eat anything?" Obi-Wan asks, sitting quietly next to him. Anakin appreciates the mere presence more than he could ever say, right now.
Maybe, but he doubts he could stomach it. "No."
"Not even something light, like soup?" he asks, "I don't know when I'll be able to come down again."
Something clenches uncomfortably inside of him, as realization dawns. "You're not supposed to be down here."
"No," he agrees, tightly.
Anakin considers that a moment before hesitantly nodding, though he probably shouldn't keep him much longer if there's a risk of... more trouble from it. "I can have a little. I will attempt not to decorate the floor with it."
"That is hardly amusing, Anakin," Obi-Wan grumbles, passing the soup container over to him.
The soup is mostly liquid, which is probably for the best because it takes the rest of the edge off his thirst. And it's probably the only reason he's able to keep it down right now.
He's handing it back to Obi-Wan, the very moment he suddenly hears something. Maybe it's partly his dragon senses that always pick it up so soon, or maybe it's also that energy which tells him things no one else understands.
"Someone's coming," he hisses, heart rate picking up. This is bad. This is exactly what they had to avoid. But there's nothing they can do anymore.
Obi-Wan's already standing, striding to the door. He's about to activate the ray shield again, but he doesn't get there fast enough before a group of guards round the corner, Azmorigan waddling along behind.
"Yes, here you are again," he says in something that's between a laugh and a growl. Anakin can genuinely not tell.
"He won't be an asset to you at all if he's dead," Obi-Wan snaps.
"Watch your tone," he hisses, "And I'm well aware that he's become a distraction to you. I've found other uses for him."
Other uses?
Anakin... doesn't like the sound of that at all. What if they give him back to the Zygerrians? What if – He doesn't want to think about it, but it can't be anything worse than he's already faced, can it? (It could be, if he's about to lose one of the only people he's been able to get attached to, all this time. Especially if he's handed off to an actually cruel handler and isn't even around any other... slaves he can talk to.)
The discussion carries down the hall so he can't make out anything but indistinct loud voices, but he still has the strong feeling that this is about to get much worse.
Sometimes, it seems like that's all that ever happens.
He only thinks that's even more true when the guards come again sometime later, dragging him out without a word, shoving him down the hall.
Obi-Wan is nowhere to be seen.
He has no idea where they're taking him now or if he'll ever see Obi-Wan again, or – or if he's even going to survive whatever's about to happen.
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