Invictus
A collaborative effort between Fernénji and Shiñoraa Inardescari
Chapter One: Tempora Mutantur
Times Change
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the Master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
- William Ernest Henley
I want to be like Master Jinn, father. He's very kind, and wise, and powerful; he's a Jedi, like you said.
I haven't had the chance to speak to you since we left Tatooine. I was always in space, or hyperspace, and it's cold in both, and the stars are silent – they don't laugh, but they're very beautiful.
You've never been wrong before – you've always told me little things, moments or hours or days or years before they'd happen, and they did, unless I wanted to change it myself. You know a lot, father, but this time I think you're wrong.
You told me I would be a Jedi, and come back to free the slaves.
I met Master Jinn, and he freed me (I told you he was kind)... but I don't think I will ever be a Jedi.
They said I was too old.
(Mom sometimes called me a little old man)
They said I was afraid.
(Am I? It's so cold...)
Yeah... I don't think they'll change their minds, father. They won't let me be a Jedi.
Not like
(Master Jinn)
him.
Not like you said.
Why don't you answer me, father?
Jedi did not love.
Jedi did not hate.
They were, however, allowed compassion and relief, and both emotions beat a thunderous rhythm against the walls of Qui-Gon's heart as he watched the sleeping nine-year-old.
Anakin's hair was still damp from the water shower he had experienced earlier that day; the young boy, native to the desert planet of Tatooine, had been almost scandalised at the mere thought of dirtying so much water simply to wash.
In the end, it had been the Jedi Master's current Padawan who, despite being fully dressed and fresh from the street festival and ceremonial celebrations of Naboo's triumph over the Trade Federation, had finally dunked the youngling's head under the spray of water. The younger boy's indignation, however, had ensured that a rather one-sided water fight had broken out, and Obi-Wan was now skulking about elsewhere, nursing his sore pride and waiting for his robes to dry.
Qui-Gon chuckled quietly in remembrance. Anakin Skywalker's brusque manner and childish excitement had far from endeared him to the traditional-minded ('stuffy, really,' Qui-Gon thought, though not without affection) Obi-Wan, who had long forsook the more playful nature he had in his youth. His sense of fun seemed to have regressed as the years went by, and it was plain to see that the now conservative Padawan didn't quite know how to deal with a spirit like Anakin's while still retaining his Jedi calm or dignity.
The Jedi Master reached out a hand, stroking the moisture-darkened hair from Anakin's eyes and allowing himself to sink into an almost meditative stillness as he contemplated the recent events.
He could have died at the unknown Sith's hand today were it not for his apprentice's fleet-footed dash to be at his side. For a moment, just after Obi-Wan had skidded to an undignified halt behind Qui-Gon, the elder Jedi had glimpsed an entire future within the space of several heartbeats.
There had been an overwhelming sense of foreboding and relief at once; darkness and light intertwined so closely that all Qui-Gon had been able to see was a smear of grey and hazy visions that flitted in and out of his consciousness, disallowing any true comprehension of them. The entire experience had been brief, though it left Qui-Gon breathless with a last image of fire and flame and a terrifying, black, insectile visage before the door to what-may-have-been slammed shut and the Sith Lord rushed forward.
"He's so quiet when he's sleeping; so different from when he is awake and aware." The tone soured almost imperceptibly, but Obi-Wan's disapproval was loud in Qui-Gon's ears. "You'd never think a scruffy little ruffian from the Outer Rim would be the Chosen One."
Qui-Gon stifled a sigh and stood carefully so that he did not disturb the sleeping boy. "Keep in mind, my overly conventional-minded Padawan –" here Obi-Wan barely withheld a snort – "that origin and caste do not make a difference to the Force, and the Force wills what the Force will."
"I'm sorry, Master," Obi-Wan apologised humbly, "I –"
"In any case, I am thankful he is comparatively silent when he sleeps," Qui-Gon added, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "You, I believe, tend to take on the characteristics of a Rancor when asleep: immovable, unsilenceable..."
"With all respect, Master," the young man waved a finger at Qui-Gon, "I do not snore –"
Qui-Gon interrupted him with a laugh. "Of course not. You merely breathe extremely loudly through your nose; have you ever heard yourself?" At Obi-Wan's unflattering glare, the grey-haired Master Jedi folded his arms with a smirk on his face that was hardly befitting of his position. "My point exactly," he concluded.
The younger man was subdued for only a short while before he turned back to his Master, blue eyes calm again. Inwardly, Qui-Gon sighed – when he had first taken Obi-Wan as his apprentice, the two had often joked for hours at each other's expense. Now, however, Obi-Wan was even more stubborn than before, and almost irritatingly orthodox; without his sense of humour to balance him, Qui-Gon was again reminded just how... obstinate his apprentice could be.
Still, Anakin would be good for him, just as Obi-Wan's influence would help the former slave. The nine-year-old was disarmingly charismatic, and would no doubt break through Obi-Wan's shields with time. Thinking upon the Padawan's unusual prejudice against the boy in question, Qui-Gon turned a contemplative gaze on his protégé's profile. As if sensing his thoughts, or at the very least his inquisition, Obi-Wan looked up from surveying Anakin's sleeping form.
"He... concerns me a little, Master," Obi-Wan confided quietly. Qui-Gon blinked – while getting his apprentice to speak his mind in recent years had hardly been difficult, it was still unusual for Obi-Wan to express himself so suddenly. Anakin had to have struck a nerve in the staid Padawan. "It is not so much his previous station or his origin that is cause for worry than him. He is so full of fear, Master, and anger."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes, suddenly disappointed. Had nothing of what he had spoken to the younger man truly registered in that stubborn mind? "I am already aware of the Council's opinions on Anakin Skywalker's faults. I trust in the Force that he was given into our care, and I will honour my promise on Tatooine to train him. He may be full of fear, but he is a boy, Obi-Wan. A now-motherless boy who has grown up with pain and hurt. If we ourselves, who have promised him the stars and disallow him even that, alienate him, then he will continue to grow in rejection and fear."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, but Qui-Gon stood to his full height, not quite desperate, but not too much less. This youngling had no defender, and if no one else would be his champion then Qui-Gon would! "You are ready for your trials," Qui-Gon stated. "You are skilled in combat, strategy and diplomacy. You contain an excellent understanding of the Force – as much understanding as I can teach you. You are ready for the trials, Obi-Wan, but you are not ready for reality."
"If I'm not ready, then why –"
"Because there is no time." Qui-Gon strode over to the open balcony doors and inhaled the moist evening air, envisioning a still mountain lake and calming as he reached the Force. "The reappearance of the Sith for the first time in a standard millennium is further cause for worry. Was it the Master or the Apprentice we vanquished? Why now?
"The discovery of the Chosen One – yes, Obi-Wan, this boy – foretells great upheaval for the galaxy. We must be ready, and if the Code obstructs our ability to act in accordance to the threat we now face, then the Code..."
"Master, no!"
"Then the Code," Qui-Gon continued relentlessly, "is no longer sound."
Both Master and Padawan were silent in a moment of almost-disbelief and awe. Qui-Gon had spoken something that was almost blasphemy to the Jedi Order, and he could feel Obi-Wan's need for him to 'come back to his senses', to take it back.
"It is truth as I see it," Qui-Gon said gently. He turned from the distant mountains to look at his Padawan. "To be unyielding makes no sense in a world of change, my wise-beyond-his-years Padawan, and mark me, but it is changing."
"Master," Obi-Wan murmured.
"If you will not trust in me," Qui-Gon said softly, "then trust in the Force."
Obi-Wan bowed his head, and both stood in contemplative silence for a long time afterwards with Qui-Gon's words hanging ominous in the air about them.
And Anakin Skywalker shifted in his sleep, dreaming of the stars.
The Shadow raged.
The defeat of its apprentice was no small loss – much time and effort had gone into Maul's creation, and having not seen the Zabrak's death, its plans had been set back a great deal. Upon further reflection, however, it became more disappointed at having invested so much in Maul's training at all – his over-eager attitude had been his death, and the death, one without victory of any kind – Maul had failed to rid the galaxy of even a pesky Padawan learner.
Its fury subsided, the Shadow sank into a forced calm, though it bared its teeth in hatred. No matter. There would be another apprentice, and this situation was more salvageable than it had first appeared; it could still be turned to the Shadow's advantage.
It had been an unfortunate series of events that had allowed the young Queen Amidala to prevail when victory had seemed imminent; she had proved to be more of an irritation than the Shadow had originally foreseen, and if so much an annoyance now, when she had barely come into her own, age and experience could sharpen her eyesight and make keen the blade of perception.
But Amidala was still young, no matter how political-minded she had been trained to be, and the Jedi still thought narrow thoughts. Prudence demanded that he plant the right seeds – in Fear, of course – where they may thrive on misunderstanding...
The young Nabooan queen would never fall into shadow, but she could be the oblivious nerfherdess that led her flock to slaughter.
Its mood fully restored, the Shadow shifted gleefully, bloodshot yellow eyes blinking rapidly as it again painted the future as it saw it.
The Sith would ingratiate themselves into the darkest nightmares of every being, and Shadow would cloud every sight, even that of the foolish Jedi. They would pay for their underestimation of the true side of the Force.
It was only a matter of time.
Qui-Gon exited the 'fresher, towelling a complaining Anakin's hair dry.
"I already had a shower yesterday!" the boy was protesting. "And why doesn't Obi-Wan have to take as many as I do?"
"Ani," Qui-Gon sighed.
"It's true! He had one after the celebration, and I had one before it and after it and now!"
"This isn't Tatooine," Obi-Wan's tone was weary as he came into view. "Naboo's people avoid the tendency to go about smelling like banthas."
Qui-Gon gave up on Anakin's hair and eyed his Padawan with curiosity, noting the half-crushed datapad in Obi-Wan's hand. "Does something trouble you, my young-and-acid-tongued apprentice?"
"Must you address me that way?" Obi-Wan grumbled.
"If these old eyes do not deceive me, then your Padawan braid has not yet been cut, and until then, I shall address you in any manner I like." Qui-Gon's teasing was interrupted by an insistent tugging on his sleeve. "Yes, Ani?"
"How old are you, Master Jinn?"
Obi-Wan's apathetic manner evaporated immediately as he bestowed a rare smirk on the speechless Jedi Master. "How old does he look, Anakin?"
Anakin tilted his head in a contemplative manner, ignoring the impatient tapping of Qui-Gon's boot against carpet. "You know, you're not that much older than Mom!" he finally concluded, sounding almost surprised.
"And just how much is 'that'?" Qui-Gon murmured, pretending to be affronted.
"I don't know," the nine-year-old considered the matter for only a few moments further before dismissing it in favour of tinkering with several transparisteel shards, though he looked up as a thought struck him. "What about you, Obi-Wan?"
Before Obi-Wan could reply, Qui-Gon answered the boy with a wink. "Why, he's positively ancient, Ani – couldn't you tell?"
Anakin was spared the need to answer when Obi-Wan tossed the datapad at his Master; his previous gloomy mood reasserted itself as he sank onto one of the many overstuffed cushions littering the ground. "Eirtaé left this while you were teaching Anakin the finer points of hygiene, Master."
"Acid-tongue indeed," Qui-Gon observed drily. "A dinner with the Queen? Whatever for?"
Anakin looked up from transparisteel parts he had been attempting to glue together. "Padmé's going to be there?"
"Her Majesty was the one to extend the invitation, after all," Obi-Wan answered, stressing Amidala's title, "It's to be a private affair, if I understand correctly, but Eirtaé insisted that it was Her Majesty's desire to thank us in a more intimate setting," Obi-Wan sighed, turning his head into another cushion so that his next words came out muffled. "I so do dread these functions, Master."
"Nevertheless," Qui-Gon's tone brooked no argument, "you are attending!"
"What about me, Master Jinn? Do I get to go too?" As if struck by an idea, he leapt to his feet and offered his head for the Jedi Master's approval. "See, I'm clean! Smell! I even washed behind my ears!"
"Unfortunately," Obi-Wan said after a moment of amused silence in which both men attempted to stifle their mirth, "that invitation extends to you also."
If he hadn't been nearly bowled over by Anakin's impulsive hug, he might have laughed with Qui-Gon. As it was, however, he merely smiled slightly at the top of the blond head.
Daylight had only just begun to fade, and Anakin slowed immediately upon passing through the tall balcony doors. Awed by the veils of pink and purple shadows playing delicately on the faint wisps of cloud, he couldn't help but marvel once more at the very concept of so much water in the atmosphere that it could freeze into ice in the air. It must come from having only one sun, he decided, and resolved to ask Master Jinn about it later. Master Jinn knew everything. In the meanwhile, he forced his legs to move forward when he realised Obi-Wan had been trying to nudge him further onto the terrace for the last few minutes.
As they moved forward to take their seats at the round, intimately-sized dining table, his eyes lit up as he spotted Padmé, and he opened his mouth to hail her before closing it hastily. Obi-Wan was looking at him again. Still, he returned her welcoming smile and sat himself stubbornly in the seat to her right. The Padawan's exasperation was almost palpable, and he in turn took the remaining seat by Anakin's side.
'He wants to keep an eye on me,' Anakin thought sourly; he had hoped to sit by Master Jinn. He cheered up considerably, however, as he glanced at Padmé, who was giving a companionable nod to Qui-Gon. 'At least I got to sit with her.'
'She isn't wearing one of those heavy dresses,' he noted, 'or any of that white stuff on her face, and her hair looks normal.' She looked younger and prettier, and Anakin told her so, ignoring Qui-Gon's hurriedly-suppressed smile and Obi-Wan's scowl. "You look nice – almost as beautiful as Mom," he added graciously.
"And that, my friends," an amused, reedy baritone said, "is the highest compliment one can receive from a youngling." Chancellor Palpatine nodded to his escort and they positioned themselves on either side of the terrace entrance. "Your Majesty," he greeted.
"Chancellor Palpatine," Padmé nodded, a smile suffusing her young features as she gestured to the chair on her left. "Please have a seat, and let us dispense with the formalities as this is to be a casual affair. I am most pleased that you accepted my invitation."
"Not nearly so much as I was to receive it," the Chancellor returned.
Anakin tuned out of their conversation, rolling his eyes in disgust. Did all grown-ups talk like that? 'No,' he decided, 'Master Jinn knows everything and he doesn't waste his breath using all those big words.'
As one of the handmaidens – Sabé, the boy remembered – set a bowl of what appeared to be some kind of meat stew before him, Anakin ignored his conversing companions in favour of deciding which of the five spoons he was to use to eat it with.
Obi-Wan glanced over at Anakin only to find the boy dozing gently against the young Queen's arm. Suppressing a groan of mortification, Obi-Wan made as if to shake him awake, but Amidala shook her head at him. She stroked the sleeping nine-year-old's hair gently, smiling down at the tousled head. "Let him sleep; the last few days must have worn him out," the girl said softly to the Padawan. "Has he enjoyed his stay on Naboo?"
Obi-Wan exchanged amused looks with Qui-Gon, who had excused himself from his conversation with the Chancellor to listen. "He finds it quite enchanting, I'm sure," the younger replied, "though his complaints about hydroshowers can be quite frustrating. He did not get a chance to experience one on Coruscant when we had stopped by briefly, let alone on Tatooine, and so is unused to them."
"Of course," Amidala agreed. She looked as if she might say more, but sighed instead, turning to Qui-Gon. "I was hoping I might give this to him tonight, after we dined, but I am quite loath to disturb his sleep," she said, more to herself than her listeners. "Perhaps you might present it to him in my stead, Master Jedi?"
Qui-Gon accepted the heavy medallion and weighed it gently in his hands even as he examined the engraved avian upon its dull surface. "What manner of creature would this be, Your Majesty?" Obi-Wan inquired as his curiosity got the better of him and he leaned over his Master's shoulder to see it properly.
"It is a spirit of myth," Amidala responded, and smiled slightly. "It symbolises rebirth and ever-revival of the eternal light."
The Chancellor reached out and touched the bronze-gold metal in surprised recognition. "Your personal crest, Majesty," he said with some surprise. "The Son of Suns!"
Qui-Gon's hand jerked a little at that, and Amidala found herself returning his intense stare with a little confusion. She looked away first, bowing her head in gentle acknowledgement of the Chancellor's observation, brushing her fingers against the sleeping boy's head. "Yes," she said uncomfortably, "the Son of Suns. It is an old legend I quite enjoy, and its avatar is what I serve." Amidala sat very still as Obi-Wan lifted Anakin from her side, and then she stood with a rustle of skirts, Sabé and Cordé flanking her as she did.
"Again," said she, "the Jedi and Anakin Skywalker have my unending gratitude." She hesitated almost imperceptibly before nodding again. "May the Force be with you," Queen Amidala said softly, and took her leave.
Obi-Wan drew the covers up to the boy's chin and stood back, for some reason unable to leave his side. "He'll be warm, at least," the Padawan said softly to his Master, who was meditating on the bunk opposite. "I've seen him shiver even on Naboo."
"That will be because of his desert origin," Qui-Gon answered without opening his eyes. "He will be uncomfortable in almost every climate and region he goes."
"He'll adjust eventually," Obi-Wan muttered, and settled himself next to Qui-Gon, closing his eyes and attempting to sink into meditation. Several minutes later, he stirred and opened them, frustrated.
"Is something the matter?" Qui-Gon asked dryly, eyes still shut, "you are unusually restless."
"And your ruminations are disrupted by my 'restless' behaviour?" Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, picking idly at the thick space-blankets piled on the bunk's pillow.
Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open as he snorted, coming out of the meditative trance. "That will be the day," was all he said, but his eyes were laughing. "What is troubling you?"
The younger man shrugged slightly, blue gaze drifting absently towards Anakin's slumbering form. "The Son of Suns," Obi-Wan answered. The medallion was barely visible, its dull lustre glinting from the raw leather thong about Anakin's neck, but both Jedi knew what they would see were they to hold it in their hands again – in the background, behind even the exquisite detail of flame and incandescent feathers, there was etched an intricate, winding design that was commonly recognised as the Nabooan symbol for eternity. A well-recognised rune associated with faith surmounted a short inscription in simple, spidery script: May dreams aid in flight.
"It is a pity we did not have the time to ask further of the legend," Qui-Gon mused, "but I am sure the archives will be kind to us... perhaps Master Yoda himself will know of it."
"Perhaps," Obi-Wan agreed, "but it may not be prudent to probe too deeply into this."
Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, and Obi-Wan thought he might have lapsed back into meditation. He was about to follow his Master's lead when the older Jedi's voice broke through his consciousness. "Your concern has merit; the more we learn, the more abusing expectation we heap upon the child... but ignorance of such prophecy, no matter how wise, is unrealistic."
"Children are cruel," Obi-Wan murmured, "and Anakin will be tested sorely, I think. Even the Knights and the elder Padawans, never mind the younger Initiates, will be sceptical of his admission into the Temple and Order no matter what excuse, reason or justification we offer them."
Qui-Gon shot him a sidelong glance that seemed at once amused and satisfied. "Then you think Anakin may be more than a mere 'pathetic life form'?"
Obi-Wan knitted his brows, frowning faintly. "I beg your pardon," he said, sounding anything but.
"Thus far you have implied, and several times, might I add, that the Council may yet permit Ani to stay."
The padawan slouched, just a little. "My opinion is not the one that matters –"
"On the contrary," Qui-Gon interrupted gently, "it matters." The Jedi Master closed his eyes and sighed. "It matters very much.
As he watched his master leave the cabin, Obi-Wan found he had nothing to say. Instead, he found his eyes straying to the fire-bird, and its bearer, the Son of Suns.
"Your Majesty!" Padmé suppressed the sigh but when she turned around, her young face was smooth and void of visible emotion. "Chancellor," she acknowledged quietly, keenly mindful of the Palace's ears. "Will you be staying for much longer?"
Palpatine shook his head in gentle denial. "The demands of the Senate require my return, I'm afraid. I must leave within the hour – perhaps you will walk with me?"
The young queen granted the Chancellor a tired smile and fell into step with him as they made their way down the grand stairway toward the hanger where Palpatine's ship was waiting.
"When news of Naboo's defiance and victory reached Coruscant's ears, I could not help but breathe a sigh of relief," Palpatine began, his tone and eyes regretful as he spoke. "I only wish I been able to offer more assistance; it is most fortunate you returned when you did."
Padmé smiled again, touched by her compatriot's concern. "Thank you, Chancellor. I am sure you did your best; the Senate is hardly known for quick, decisive action, after all. Nevertheless, we do owe much to the bravery and fortitude of the Jedi."
Palpatine's sigh echoed through the high-ceilinged hallway, and his eyes remained sad. "Yes, Master Jinn and his apprentice have indeed served you well; you are safe, and so are our people. I only hope the Jedi Council will, in the future, sanction the heroic deeds of other such Jedi on behalf of the citizens of the Republic."
The Queen faltered momentarily, but was able to keep the shock and confusion from registering on her face, though her hands clenched and unclenched slowly beneath the long sleeves of her ceremonial gown. "Why shouldn't they? That is, after all, their mandate, is it not?"
"Indeed, your Majesty. However, just what that mandate does or does not include depends wholly on the Senate. Though they are represented by a delegation of their choosing, the Jedi Council take neither one side nor the other."
"But surely..." They had stopped walking – Padmé could hear an unusually undisciplined whisper among her handmaidens. Normally she would turn around to rebuke them with a warning gaze, or a soft-voiced admonishment, but the Chancellor had taken her hand, his pale, grey-blue eyes gazing into her dark ones.
"Your majesty," he murmured sympathetically, "I don't wish to upset you nor do I want to in any way demean what our gallant heroes have done. I only wish to caution you. Reform of the Senate will take time, I'm afraid. I only hope that it does not take so long that another tragedy will be allowed to occur either here or on any other planet."
Padmé was silent as they resumed their walk, assimilating the words the Chancellor had just spoken. Only a short time ago, it was inconceivable that an invasion of Naboo could happen. They were a peaceful people who did their best to deal fair and justly with all other worlds in the galaxy. Though she wanted to believe that such a thing could never again occur, and most certainly not on Naboo, reality was a harsh master. She would learn her lesson and learn it well.
The customary words of farewell and faraway were spoken, but Padmé's mind was whirring too loudly for her to hear the Chancellor's reply to her well wishing.
As far as the Jedi were concerned, her knowledge of their Order was rudimentary at best. They were the peacekeeping force in the galaxy, most often sent as ambassadors or emissaries of the Senate to settle trade disputes, treaties, and other such matters that could easily become a source of conflict. In this case, they had done exactly that.
She watched Palpatine as he ascend the ramp, and he paused briefly to meet her slightly unsteady gaze. Though a good several metres separated them, he nodded absently to himself, seeming to have found whatever he had searched. Padmé watched the glow of ignition and allowed her handmaidens to nudge her absent form away from the landing platform.
She would hope for the reforms that the Senate so desperately needed. Reconstruction had begun in Theed and she would devote her full attention to providing everything that her people needed. As for the Jedi... only time would tell.
Perhaps it was merely the wind, but Padmé thought she could hear distant laughter. She could not help but shudder, a little.
"Come," said she, and glided onto a terrace-path, holding her skirts as she descended the stairs to the gardens. Her handmaidens followed in silent obedience, and the tree-shadows played eerily about their faces.
A/N: Feedback is appreciated. Thanks for reading!