"The burned hand teaches best. After that, advice about fire goes to the heart." - Tolkien
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
Obi-Wan Kenobi x OC
[ Star Wars; Episodes I-Kenobi ]
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✶✶ ✶
✶✶
✶✶
✶ ✶
•°•°•°•°•
Aris, you are the future of House Veruna...
She's seven years old, fresh off her aced aptitude test, and a dynasty is placed on her shoulders. A legacy as old and rich as the soil deep within the heart of Naboo. For days she smiles as if she were the sun, but like the sun it falls. Sinking below the horizon as each day carries on.
There's a spot carved out for her in the library. A seat of feathered red velvet, so big the tips of her shoes brush the floor as her legs kick. Bookshelves stacked with stories and history tower above her leaving only the tiniest of glimpses through the back windows to the outside world.
She's seven years old and her grandfather, Ars Veruna the newly elected king of Naboo, sets her life up with a single sentence. For the rest of her life the statement will follow her, a whispering reminder.
Aris sees it in her grandfather's demanding eyes, or her uncle's envious glances. She feels it in the weight of her father's hands. She hears it each time her mother kisses her head, like each one is an apology.
I'm sorry I can't protect you...
I'm sorry your childhood has been lost...
I'm sorry for this misery...
She was their prophesied savior.
Yet, she only brought destruction.
Ars Veruna, the failed King of Naboo, looked down upon her in shame as the news broke, as her part in the plot unraveled. He dared cast his stormy gray eyes down on her as if the ruin were her fault, only shame and anger in those eyes. Eyes she grew to hate even though they sat within her own head. From seven to now his face of wrinkled stone was always on the brink of dismay. Internally prepared for any failures she may bring. His stabbing stare that once traced the movement of her finger as she read, fell back into that well rehearsed look.
It was Senator Palpatine who brought her the news. Her grandfather had placed her in his office as a spy, needing a means to take down the man, but he hadn't planned for the senator's charades. Palpatine curate's her sweet pacifist heart, projecting ideas she'll quickly agree with, and treating her to a political life Ars never trusted her with. When the news broke she was quick to solidify her allegiance.
