Chapter Text
It happens slowly at first, slowly enough that Obi-Wan doesn’t notice - but the moment it catches her attention, she can’t get it out of her head. It starts small, with a petition to name the flagship that Obi-Wan had accidentally commandeered - in her defense, no one had argued against her and the vod’e’s efficient take over of the massive ship - as her own, The Temple. She had considered arguing against it solely on the basis of it being Quinlan’s suggestion, but the younglings had liked it, and it had led to the clones caving and agreeing under the combined pleading stares from the children, which had ended with Obi-Wan giving her blessing - because if it was something they all agreed on, who was she to disagree.
As more and more Jedi and Clones come out of hiding, flocking to the Rebellion, Obi-Wan finds that most of them seem to defer to her. It’s not too surprising, as they all remember her as a member of the Council - however unearned her appointment may have been - and while she would never deny them the small comfort they seem to take from it, she has tried to discourage them from it.
It all comes to a head, ironically, in the form of shy little Blythe Secura tugging on her robes to try to get her attention.
Obi-Wan is in the training room, watching the various surviving Jedi and Clones mingle; Cody is talking with Rex a few meters away from her, the white-blond vod flushing as her riduur sends a knowing glance over to where Ahsoka stands with Mara, the Torgrutan Knight gently running her new Padawan through Jar’Kei stances, white and violet lightsabers flashing around the two of them. Not far from them, young Kanan is overseeing a spar between his own feisty little Padawan and Luke, the two boys having bonded quickly as friends and friendly rivals after their first introduction via Mara, the rest of his crew not far away and the young Knight nervously trying to ignore his instinctive flinch when a clone passes too close to him.
It seems their talk had at least made Kanan reconsider his aggressiveness around the vod’e , but she can see that every flinch the young man makes hurts the clones. She can only hope that they would come to an agreement over time.
Korto Vos is kneeling next to an excited Gregor and solemn Wolffe, and Obi-Wan has a vague thought that she should probably intervene should the two men decide to show the teenager how to wire a bomb - but they’re not doing any harm, and Feemor is moving towards them, so she lets her eyes shift away from the group and towards Quinlan. Her childhood friend is standing with Aayla and Bly, the couple happily caressing the small baby bump under her tunic every other word, familial bliss radiating off of them. Not far from them, Boil sits with Mari and Ashla, running gentle hands over his daughters’ hair or lekku as the two girls talk animatedly with Katooni, Petro, and Zatt - the five Temple survivors having forged a close friendship in the past months.
Fives and Echo stand, hand-in-hand and once again inseparable, at the far end of the training room, talking cheerfully with a recently reunited Jesse and Kix, the two pairs probably planning another double date, and their eyes travelling occasionally to where Leia is sparring against young Cal Kestis, probably seeing Anakin in Leia’s determined expression. Cere Junda, freshly given the title of Master for completing Cal’s training, is overseeing her former padawan and possible-grandpadawan, a fond look in her eyes as she talks with the other members of her crew. On the other side of the four clones lurks Barriss and Dogma, the two of them looking stiff and a little uncomfortable around so many people, and Obi-Wan can see the resigned longing in Barriss’ eyes as she looks towards Ahsoka and the way Dogma lays an awkward hand on the Mirial’s shoulder.
The only ones not in the training room were Bant, Coric, and Kano - the three of them, and Kix, having taken control of the infirmary with fierce efficiency.
A small tug on her robes catches her attention, and Obi-Wan smiles at her niece, watching the girl blush nervously, “Hello Blythe.” She greets warmly, as the small preteen fiddle with the hilt of her ‘saber.
“‘Ello Auntie.” Blythe mumbles, ducking her head, brown and blue lekku swaying. Obi-Wan stands quietly, letting the shy girl collect her words and courage. “‘M not very good at my forms.” The girl admits finally, and Obi-Wan’s smile softens.
“That’s alright my dear,” She assures the girl, laying a gentle hand on top of her niece's head. “Everyone learns differently, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I don’t think I wanna fight, though, Master.”
“And that’s alright too.” Obi-Wan promises, watching the girl’s courage continue to grow.
“But everyone else wants to.”
“Not everyone.” Obi-Wan tells her gently, crouching down so that she was eye level with the young Twi’Lek-Human hybrid. “I don’t want to fight either, I’m doing it so that I can help.”
“I want to help too.”
Obi-Wan smiles at the flare of determination in brown eyes, “And there are other ways to help.” Blythe blinks up at her, and Obi-Wan runs a soft, comforting hand down her lekku, “Just look at Bant; she wasn’t very good at her forms either, so she chose to become a healer instead.”
Blythe’s lips part in surprise, wide eyed and awed at her words, “Can - can I become a healer too?”
“I’m sure if you asked Bant to teach you, she’d be happy to take you on as her apprentice.”
Blythe’s entire countenance brightens, and the small girl beams at Obi-Wan, throwing her skinny arms around her neck excitedly, and kissing her cheek. “Thank you, Grand Master!” She says merrily, letting go and skipping towards her parents to share the news, leaving Obi-Wan crouched and a reeling.
Grand Master.
She had called her Grand Master.
Obi-Wan feels a little disconnected, stunned like she had been hit over the head, eyes wide. There’s a faint ringing in her ears, like she had been in the vicinity of a bomb going off, and trying to look like she wasn’t completely off kilter, Obi-Wan stands, folding her hands into her sleeves, mind working overtime.
“Cyare?” Cody’s gentle hand lays across her arm, and Obi-Wan blinks, meeting his confused eyes.
“She called me Grand Master.” She says uneasily, and Cody inclines his head.
“They all are.” He tells her, and Obi-Wan presses her lips together, eyes wide.
“Truly?”
“Yes.”
Obi-Wan lets out a low breath, eyes shifting back to the people spread throughout the training hall. “It’s an honour I don’t deserve.” She murmurs; how could she be Grand Master? Master Yoda still lived, still held the title; Obi-Wan was just someone who became a Knight through a fluke, a Master by mistake, and was given a seat on the Council because so many had already died. She didn’t deserve to be given such an honour.
“Of course you do.” Cody says immediately, without hesitation, and Obi-Wan turns, meeting his unwavering golden eyes. “They’re here because you are. You’ve brought them all together; they love you.”
Those words stay with Obi-Wan for the rest of the day, ringing in her ears as she goes about her duty, and that night, before she joins Cody in their bed, Obi-Wan settles down to meditate. In her mind’s eye, she can see the tattered remains of her bonds; among the dead and torn bonds stand clusters of living, bright connections that connect her to the Jedi aboard The Temple. She ignores the blackened, burnt thread, barely thinner than a hair and fraying terribly, that still connected her to Anakin - to Darth Vader - and set after her only remaining Lineage bond, bonding her to her master’s grandmaster. She reaches towards it, gently probing, and within moments, she finds herself kneeling in the room of a thousand fountains, as grand as it had been in its heyday, the gurgling of water surrounding her, comforting her.
And kneeling across from her, is the familiar form of Master Yoda.
The ancient master studies her, dark eyes filled with wisdom and humour, and Obi-Wan bows respectfully.
“Greetings, Master Yoda.” She says easily, listening to the ancient Jedi chuckle.
“Greetings, I should, give you instead.” And Obi-Wan watches in shock as the Grand Master of the Jedi Order bows to her instead, just as deep and respectful as she had given him. “Grand Master of a New Order, you have become. Given them hope, you have.”
“I’m not the Grand Master.” Obi-Wan tries to argue, hands clenched in her leggings.
“And yet, call you Grand Master they do.” Yoda refutes, large green ears twitching thoughtfully. “Grand Master, I no longer am. The Jedi Order, gone it is. A new one, you now lead. Different, it is, better, it will be. Lead it, you have been.” The ancient Jedi laughs again, humming under his breath. “Retired, I am! Now, away you will go, back to your Cody, you are needed!”
“Wait- ” Yoda’s glimmer stick hits the ground, and Obi-Wan finds herself thrown back into her body, cursing annoying green goblin masters under her breath.