A/N: Welcome to my first Star Wars fic! I should be finishing the next chapter of my Bonanza story but Obi-Wan won't leave me alone. I've had this idea lurking in my head for a while now and it's finally going to see daylight. This first chapter is an introduction to our main characters – though how much introduction does Obi-Wan really need? – and will set the stage for the buildup to The Phantom Menace. I have taken creative license on the timing of certain events and characters and altered them where necessary to fit with my timeline. Some things will change, some may not, and I own nothing recognizable as Star Wars. Entertainment only.
What if Anakin wasn't the only Jedi involved with a Senator? How much would change if the Negotiator himself had broken the Jedi Code? Even more, what if his secret love was Force sensitive and could potentially spell trouble for Darth Sidious?
Coruscant, 39 BBY
"I'm glad to see Mandalore's troubles come to an end as much as you, my dear." The Rodian senator raised his cup in toast and Anya smiled politely in thanks. "It can't be easy knowing your friends could die in a split second." He made a noise in his throat. "Has your father been able to speak to the new Duchess yet?"
"Unfortunately not, Senator. Communications are still being reestablished and he feels that merely checking on old friends doesn't warrant being first in line when there are others with far more important needs." She raised her own glass and drank deeply, the better to avoid having to reply immediately should the nosy fellow keep digging.
And he would; she knew that as well as her own name. Politics, while bearing a facade of politeness, was never clean. Anya drew in a deep breath, forcing her shields to strengthen and keep the endless hum of a roomful of living beings at bay.
It would never do for the Jedi to realize that the Corellian Senator's daughter was Force sensitive.
While her parents had midi-chlorian counts barely above normal levels for humans, hers was high enough to be respectable for a Jedi knight. Under normal circumstances, she would have ended up at the Temple, were it not for the bad feeling her mother had gotten as soon as the subject was broached. She'd been almost too old anyway before they realized she possessed abilities that were not normal for humans.
Now at seventeen, Anya bel Iblis hid herself behind shields strong enough to keep a master at bay. She hid a smile as Count Dooku of Serreno – a former Jedi who'd left the order less than three years before – strolled right past her without so much as a flicker of recognition. And he had been trained by Yoda himself.
She tracked his path to the honored guests of the evening – the Master/Padawan pair that had ended the war and delivered Duchess Satine Kryze to her throne: Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi.
"Anya." She turned, smiling as her father approached. "How wonderful to see you tonight, Senator," he added to the Rodian, who nodded gravely in response. "Come, I want to thank the Jedi personally for helping my old friend's daughter." He held out his arm and she slipped hers through, a vague sense of something off stirring, though she couldn't place it.
The closer they got to the Jedi, the stronger it became, which wasn't saying much. Someone else knew how to shield, and it was an admirable job, but their focus was beginning to slip, but only just. "Kenobi will probably be knighted before too many more years pass, or so I've heard," her father was saying. "Jinn speaks highly of his abilities, which is saying something considering he reportedly didn't want the boy in the first place." They stopped in front of the Jedi, who offered impeccable bows.
"Senator." Jinn smiled, hands folded in his sleeves. "The Duke would have been pleased to see you tonight. And the Duchess sends her regards."
Had she not been Force sensitive, she'd have never felt it, and had she not been trained to observe her entire life she wouldn't have seen it. Unfortunately for Padawan Kenobi, both arguments held true. Pain leaked into the Force for a split second before he could contain it and the slight jerk that accompanied mention of Satine Kryze.
Anya had a pretty good idea as to why that was.
Satine was far from ugly and they were both teenagers on the cusp of adulthood. Growing up in the Temple as he had, she could only imagine how different it had been to spend over a year on the run in close quarters with a girl he wasn't allowed to become close to, despite circumstances all but forcing them into it.
She'd have to message Satine as soon as possible and see what she thought about the young Padawan. She came back to the moment in time to hear her father introduce her to the Jedi.
"A pleasure, my lady," Jinn was saying as he offered another bow.
"Likewise, Master Jinn." The Force nudged her and she held out her hand to Kenobi. "Padawan." He took her hand and the Force … exploded … for lack of a better word. Had she not been who she was, the entire gala would have caught her reaction to the spark that ignited when their hands touched. The Jedi felt it, she could see it on their faces, though Jinn especially hid it quickly.
Every Jedi in the room was looking around, brows furrowed as they sought the source of the disturbance. But they weren't the only ones.
Naboo's senator was watching them, eyes wide for a split second before all emotion was buried behind that grandfatherly mask he always wore.
She let her hand slip from Kenobi's and the Force fell silent. Keeping the careful smile on her face, she inquired after Satine as though she hadn't noticed a thing out of the ordinary. "How did you find Mandalore, Padawan?"
"It's different," he finally said after a moment. "I – I hope they can rebuild quickly."
"As do I." She let her gaze slip past him to Palpatine. He was still watching them and she offered a polite smile when their eyes met before she let hers keep going as though she wasn't really looking at him.
He could only have noticed that disturbance if he was Force sensitive and she'd never heard so much as a whisper that that was the case. Of course he could be hiding it as she was, but what would that gain him? No one cared if a Republic Senator was Force sensitive and he was far too old to be trained as a Jedi.
It would bear watching. Considering her mother had never been able to pinpoint the reasons behind her "bad feeling" about her daughter becoming a Jedi, it was perhaps best that no one outside the family knew anything about it.
"What do you think it means?" Her father sat beside her on the plush sofa in the living room of their apartment at 500 Republica, concern in his dark eyes. Chin in hand, Anya shrugged one shoulder.
"I don't know. I've never felt anything like it before. If I had to guess, I'd say the Force felt … not happy … maybe – maybe …." She searched her mind for the right description. "Approval?"
"Approval of what?" He was off the sofa and wandering the room in an instant. "Jedi are forbidden attachments so I can't have just met my future son-in-law." Anya snorted.
"Perhaps it's as simple as a problem that only the two of us could solve."
"Then why the fireworks if that's all it is?" She shrugged again.
"Ask the Force."
"I would if I could do that." He leaned an arm on the ornate mantel. "The Jedi know something happened, but hopefully they have no better ideas than we do. If Master Jinn approaches you seeking answers, feign ignorance." Anya nodded and stared out at Coruscant's evening shadows.
Personally, she didn't think they'd come looking for answers. If the behavior she'd observed during her trips to the Jedi archives held true, they would meditate on the problem until something else attracted their attention. It wasn't like the Force gave actual direction or anything, so what was there to even meditate about?
She'd meditate herself, of course, but she doubted any real answers would be forthcoming any time soon; the Force was like that she'd discovered: completely unwilling to provide a concrete answer until it was good and ready.
Corellia, 38 BBY
Above Corellia, the massive corvette slid from its dry dock into the freedom of space as the onlookers gathered on the chartered yacht cheered and toasted the brand new vessel with the finest Corellian brandy.
"She's a lovely ship, my lady." The clipped Coruscanti accent came from her right and Anya turned to find Senator Palpatine. One would think he would have retained his Nabooian accent but she got the feeling he preferred Corsuscant. "A pleasure to see you again." She inclined her head and took a sip of her brandy, giving her a moment to contemplate the matter and pull her shields in tight.
What did he want? Naboo was peaceful, not even possessing a standing military – something Anya considered foolish – so he could hardly care about the launch of a new class of warships, at least on a professional level. She knew he'd felt the disturbance in the Force when she and Padawan Kenobi had met the year before, but not even the Jedi had seemed to care overly much, no one having sought her out in the time since to question her about it. "Senator." That should be sufficient, shouldn't it? His eyes seemed to look right through her and she suppressed a shiver. The man was unsettling, she didn't see how everyone else seemed to like him.
"Senator Palpatine." She turned as her father approached. "Enjoying the launch?"
"Oh yes, Senator. Corellia's hospitality is excellent." The man sipped from his glass of Corellian brandy with a smile. "A most wonderful evening." His gaze flicked over her shoulder. "Do excuse me, I see someone I need to speak to about an upcoming bill, perhaps it will prevent another tragedy like that poor padawan." He was gone in seconds, leaving Anya confused even as the Force whispered what seemed like a warning.
"What was he talking about? I haven't heard anything about the Jedi losing a padawan on a mission."
"I just found out about it myself." Her father took her hand and squeezed gently. "Apparently, false information was used to lure a Jedi master and his padawan into a trap. The master was injured and the padawan … is believed to be dead. His master can't reach him through their training bond," he continued in a whisper. "The bill is intended to require more concrete evidence of need before the Jedi are dispatched anywhere."
"But the Jedi don't answer to the Senate like that." Her father's face darkened.
"Not yet," he said ominously.
"But a planet in trouble may not always be able to provide that poof, what if they were invaded and communications blocked?"
"I find it worrying and plan to vote against it. The Jedi themselves reportedly have accepted the situation as the will of the Force and intend to continue to offer aid where it is needed."
"When did this happen?" She couldn't recall mention of anything, and despite being on Corellia for the past six months, if it was that big she should have heard about it.
"Five months ago. The Jedi refused to make a big deal of it." He paused, then continued after a look around to make sure no one in earshot was paying attention, "You didn't feel anything?" She shook her head.
"No, why?"
"It was Padawan Kenobi." Anya blinked. "Master Jinn is here, he told me what happened when I questioned why his padawan wasn't with him." She pulled her shields in tighter and reached into the Force, seeking an answer. It swirled around her in waves, soothing and comforting, but giving no answers. A flicker of caution brushed over her and she frowned as a thought occured.
"How did Palpatine know? Did he speak to Master Jinn?"
"He must have, he couldn't have known otherwise. The Jedi –"
Whatever else he was going to say was lost as the brand new corvette exploded in a massive fireball.
Anya groaned as consciousness slowly returned. Her head pounded and nausea churned in her stomach. She pried her eyes open, needing to find her father, and suddenly nothing made sense. She was in a tiny room with no windows, the likes of which the chartered yacht didn't have, nor did it look like any medical facility she'd ever seen.
And she'd been dumped in the floor. This did not bode well. Swallowing back bile, she got to her feet and tried to find a door as she carefully reached out with the Force. Her father's light was there, but far away, and she exhaled in relief that he was alive.
But if he was far away, where was she? She could sense life forms - mainly Rodians, but one human and a group of….
Zygerrians?
Her blood ran cold. The feline-like humanoids had once controlled a vast empire built on the slave trade, but the Republic had decimated that empire hundreds of years ago, forcing them into the shadowy criminal underworld.
A door swished open and she spun, her head spinning in tandem and she braced herself against the wall. A trio of Zygerrians stood in the doorway. "You're finally awake," one of them purred, his ears twitching. "Good. It would have been a shame to lose such profit."
"I'm Anya bel Iblis, daughter of a Republic Senator." She drew herself up to her full height. "You will not get away with this."
"We already have, my lady," the seeming leader replied with mocking laughter. "You're in the ass end of the Outer Rim, where no one will ever think to look for you, much less find you." He gave her a cruel smile. "Once you're dropped off with your new owner, you'll never leave the planet again."
"We will see." They laughed again and lunged for her. Instinct almost had her using the Force to throw them off, but a swirl of warning from the Force itself stayed her hand. Something … something was … off. She couldn't place it, the Force was singing now with alarm, but not about this, whatever it was. There was something elsewhere … she just couldn't grasp it, it slipped through her fingers like a wisp of smoke whenever she tried to latch onto the feeling.
Chains closed around her wrists, and Anya was unceremoniously carted to a docking bay and hauled into a small shuttle. She watched out the tiny viewport, committing everything she could see to memory. The planet they were approaching was green, so not a desert at least. There were so many planets in the Outer Rim, and she didn't even know what quadrant they were in to be able to hazard a guess as to which one it was. From space, it appeared to be sparsely populated, but even that fact didn't narrow it down much.
The shuttle landed with a thump and she was hauled down the ramp to meet another Zygerrian surrounded by guards. She was handed over without a word and dragged away to a waiting speeder. Anya wanted to scream in frustration, to rip these slavers to shreds, to do something, but that same whisper of warning was back, now urging patience. So she took a breath and sank carefully into light meditation, scanning everything around her with the Force and keeping her own shields high. There was no way to know yet what they wanted her for, if it was just the dubious prestige of owning a Senator's daughter, or there was more to it. Did someone want revenge for something her father had supported – or not – in the Senate?
She'd find out soon enough, she was sure, and it was best to be prepared. There was no space port, at least within line of sight from the shuttle's landing path, so she'd have to keep her wits about her to find a way off this jungle.
The speeder stopped on the outskirts of the small settlement they'd passed through, in a walled courtyard behind a massive house surrounded by smaller outbuildings. The Zygerrian stepped out of the speeder and looked her up and down. "This will be interesting," he purred and waved a hand. "Take her to her quarters." He turned away and went inside the house without another word. One of the guards shoved her in the back and she started walking in the direction she was pointed, head held high. They led her through a door in the rear of the house, down a steep set of stairs and into what could only be described as a dungeon. Wonderful.
The cells were made of stone, like the house, with a tiny window set into the narrow door. They unlocked one at the far end and pushed her inside without taking off the chains. The door slammed behind her and the lock clicked. It was dark inside with so little light coming through the window and she tried not to think of what all could be lurking in the shadows. Metal clinked in the corner and she spun, her head protesting the rapid movement.
"Who's there?" A weak voice echoed in the gloom and the Force swirled around her as shock flooded her veins. A figure crept into the light, chains hanging from his wrists, a slave collar around his neck, dirty hair just long enough to hang in his dead eyes.
It was Padawan Kenobi.