It’s been almost eleven months since they relocated to NiJedha, but the huge Council Chamber of their new Temple still only has one seat.
At some point, Master asked Anakin to arrange for more chairs to be brought in for those who might wish to sit on the new High Council, and, of course, Anakin, being the good, obedient Padawan that he is, immediately – gladly – did nothing.
It’s been almost eleven months, but his Master still hasn’t noticed, too busy keeping peace in the Galaxy by waging a war against any injustice, just like he promised back in the Senate chamber.
The Force is speaking to him, and he is listening to its voice day and night – lost to the real world – his lips moving in a string of names and coordinates. Every one of them is a death sentence. A slaver, a crime lord, a tyrant, a corrupt politician – their names fall from the Emperor’s lips in the hall of glowing white marble, and then…they die.
His Master will offer Anakin his hand, and Anakin will take it, stepping with him through the doors of the Force and onto other worlds, their blades ablaze…
No use to beg for forgiveness. No second chances for those who hurt others for money or pleasure. Death is the new mercy of the Jedi. And the world is trembling before them, dreading to draw the attention of the Emperor’s cold blue eyes even more than they fear the fiery gold of the Sith.
Jetiise a’den.
That’s what the clones call Obi-Wan Kenobi now in their slightly altered Mandalorian war chant.
The Jedi’s wrath.
That’s how they sing of him, the one who freed them, calling themselves the pitiless face of his justice. Because if there is someone who wishes to start a war or even a small local conflict, well… The Jedi have been trained to fight as an army now, and the clones have mostly chosen to remain soldiers, so if the Emperor sighs, tiredly pressing a palm to his face, Generals Cody and Rex only nod curtly, and in a couple of hours a few fleets are already departing from Jedha to bring either peace or the complete annihilation of the aggressor.
Royal palaces and military bases are burning in the background of every holo-video featuring rows of men in painted plastoid armor and hundreds of swirling and slashing blades of blue and green in the hands of Jedi Knights, their steady hum accompanied by the joyful cheering of the saved and liberated people.
Behave, or the Jedi will come for you.
That’s what parents tell their unruly children now.
Behave, or you will know the justice of the Jedi.
That’s the message Jedha is transmitting to the entire Galaxy.
And hundreds of thousands of pilgrims come to see her ancient shrines and her returned people. Hundreds of thousands of voices blend with each other as they say, “Force bless the Jedi Order and Emperor Kenobi, the Bringer of Peace!”
Force bless…
Anakin is almost ready to cry, cursing his own stupidity, as he listens to the endless chorus of voices calling his Master’s name in the Force.
It’s all his own doing, of course. It’s because of him that the whole Galaxy is getting all of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s attention, leaving nothing to Anakin himself. And, of course, the grateful Galaxy gives the Jedi its love in return. The love that’s challenging Anakin’s own.
Because of that love, the bleeding sun of his Master’s halo is shining and spreading – bright and terrifying – even though Anakin is doing everything he can to calm it down. And at times, he even fears that one day his Darkness won’t be enough anymore to contain it. He is also starting to suspect that the only reason he himself still isn’t swept away by his Master’s storm is because he is in the very eye of it. And, of course, he pretends like it doesn’t scare him even a little when his Master opens his mouth – and thousands of voices speak, whispering and screaming in hundreds of languages. That’s just the Force working in its mysterious ways. Nothing to worry about. Not creepy at all. Not at all ...
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Choose Your Words || A Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Story
RomanceAnakin Skywalker is pure chaos and will do anything to get his Master's attention: A Star Wars Story.