Chapter Text
The morning sunlight glittered through the floor-length windows that illuminated the Jedi temple, encapsulating it with natural light. Outside, traffic was as busy as ever with an urgency that trickled down to even the lowest of layers on Coruscant. It was especially bright in the Jedi council chambers; a place that Obi-Wan didn’t often get to spend time in without accompaniment of his Jedi Master. Of course, this wasn’t supposed to be one of those instances either, for Qui-Gon Jinn was simply running tremendously late.
This left the nineteen year old Padawan learner alone at center stage in front of the most renowned Jedi Masters in the galaxy. In silence. Even though he was considerably certain that they were not called before the council to be chastised, Obi-Wan could not help the slight unease at having so many serious stares on him. Based on that alone, the conversation wasn’t likely to be much fun.
The only one that didn’t seem maudlin was Master Yoda, who usually had a curious look of amusement dancing across his features. Perhaps his extra centuries of experience broadened his perspective. It was likely how he was able to work so often with children too.
“At his own time, your Master operates, hm?” He said.
“He should be here any minute, Master.” Obi-Wan answered politely.
“I hope.” He thought.
It was well-known that Qui-Gon and the council rarely saw eye-to-eye. That was putting it nicely, actually. For as much as Obi-Wan did due diligence to follow the rules, that was increasingly difficult when he had a Master that did not take such precautions if he felt the rules got in the way of doing what he believed was right.
Obi-Wan could see the importance of both. If it was between a life and the rules, there was no choice to make. However, sometimes it felt like Qui-Gon tried to push the council’s buttons.
Like now.
He tried to find the inner calmness that Qui-Gon had been training him to reach for in times of strife. It was always important for a Jedi to be grounded to the moment, but sometimes that required reaching within and making your own peace.
The more time he spent with his Master, the more effective he found his methods. Sure, Master Yoda always said that fear led to hate, which ultimately led to the dark side of the force. Therefore, Jedi were not to fear. However, in response to this, Qui-Gon sagely said, “But everyone fears, Obi-Wan. The difference lies in how a Jedi handles it.”
It was not about resisting the feeling of fear, but combating it with the opposite of fear. Hope.
And right now, Obi-Wan hoped the council wouldn’t scorch his Master for being so brazen in his tardiness.
“Why is he late?” Master Piell asked.
“The word ‘late’ implies that he’s coming at all.” Master Rancisis huffed.
“He will be here.” Obi-Wan tried again, but even he was growing doubtful of that.
As for the explanation behind his Master’s lack of prudence, Obi-Wan didn’t have one. He had his suspicions that it was related to the bounty hunter that was taking prey on public officials. The very same one that the council said had nothing to do with Jedi affairs. The senate asked the Jedi stay out of it, but that was too big of a request for Qui-Gon Jinn, who felt that this bounty hunter may be force sensitive.
That was a detail that Obi-Wan knew he should not bring up in today’s meeting, particularly when they were already stewing at having to wait for Qui-Gon.
Just as Master Windu was about to voice his own complaint about the disrespect of the situation, in came Master Jinn without so much as a glimmer of sweat that one would have if they’d rushed to the chambers.
He had the good sense to do a slight jog to the center of the room to be beside his Padawan and if Obi-Wan could shoot him a look, he would, but instead let his lack of acknowledgement speak volumes.
“Nice it is of you to join us, Master Qui-Gon.” Yoda said.
“Dare we ask for your reasoning?” Mace Windu asked with a hint of warning exasperation.
“Oh, my apologies, Master, but traffic was terrible.” Qui-Gon said with that air of casualness that bothered many a Master so many times.
“It, that is?” Master Yaddle asked.
“It is rush hour.” He added, though Obi-Wan doubted anyone was really falling for that. However, today the council seemed far too busy to be goaded into one of his Master’s actual tale, which would no doubt be infinitely longer.
Predictably, Mace Windu sighed in defeat, “We did call you two here for a reason, believe it or not. And that reason is we have an assignment that requires your services.”
“Deliver food rations to the Mandalorian system, you will.” Yoda said.
Obi-Wan bit back a gasp. The Mandalorian system refused to join the Republic due to their determination to dominate the entire galaxy. Not to mention, they were no fans of the Jedi. History spoke volumes on that truth.
He could not fathom any possibility where Mandalore would reach out to them for help like this. Judging by the fact that the council requested he and his master, specifically, Obi-Wan guessed that they did not, in fact, send for such help.
“Does the senate know of this?” Qui-Gon asked and to his credit, was completely nonplussed.
“All of our council meetings are on the record.” Master Windu said, “You must be careful not to take a side here. The Mandalorians are on the brink of civil war yet again. We are just offering rations as a good will gesture.”
“Remind them, of potential Republic aid this must.”
Qui-Gon nodded with a glint in his eyes. Obi-Wan could sense curiosity emanating off of his Master through their bond. He knew that this was not going to be any simple missionary trip. It never was with his Master and given their location, it couldn’t be even if the council tried to restrain them.
Master Yoda’s stare was also very curious. He was excellent at not giving much away, but Obi-Wan had known and trained under Yoda for most of his life and could recognize some minor patterns. The way he leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands in contemplation- for one thing.
Master Windu was much more iron-tight in his facial expressions, but somehow looked wary nonetheless. Every other Jedi Master in the room had a lot more to say, but didn’t.
They didn’t expect it to be a simple missionary retreat either.
Little else was addressed in session and when it was adjourned, Obi-Wan was more than eager to pry for real details from his Master, if he had any. Instead, he was ordered to go research the history of Mandalore in the library.
He resisted the urge to huff in response, because Qui-Gon knew by now that Obi-Wan had top marks in his history class, which obviously covered the tumultuous relationship between the Mandalorians and the Jedi. This was obviously a tactic to get Obi-Wan away while the masters had a chat about the real purpose of the mission.
It was no matter, really. Obi-Wan quite liked the library. It was quiet and the less mature padawans rarely hung around, which kept him from their incessant goading about how strange Qui-Gon was. It was to no secret even to them that Master Qui-Gon Jinn was unlike any other master they’d ever known.
Master Jocasta Nu was also a welcome presence. She was likely in her late 50’s in standard years and had much wisdom to offer. The trick was being willing to listen, which Obi-Wan found by experience that many younger padawans were not. To his credit, he was not either just a few years ago.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi! I’m sure you’ve read every book on Mandalorian history by now.” She smiled warmly at him.
There was something perpetually maternal about her that he could not name. He did not have much experience on that feeling, of course, but he could assume how it was supposed to feel.
“Yes, Master Nu, but we’ve got a new mission and it can’t hurt to brush up on some ancient lore.”
She nodded, “Just be sure to keep your eyes forward instead of behind you. Many things have changed about the galaxy since the history books were written.”
He’d grimaced. The holonet displayed Mandalore’s plight every now and then, but it tended to get pushed to the wayside. The general gist was this: they were in disagreement and were fighting amongst themselves over whether or not they should fight the rest of the galaxy. It was not notorious for being the most civilized system out there.
Still, he thanked her for the book and went to his usual table, which to his confusion, was occupied by an unfamiliar face. Neither of these occurrences should have been considered rare. There were plenty of Jedi that Obi-Wan didn’t know given there were a good 10,000+ of them out there. Also, it wasn’t technically his table anyway. Any person was entitled to sit there.
But whether she liked it or not, she stood out. He could not read her force signature or whether she even noticed him yet. Her eyes were turned down to a book of her own so all he really had any exposure to was the blonde ringlets that fell to her shoulders.
“Excuse me?” He wasn’t sure what compelled this girl from her studies. He wasn’t the most boisterous person out there nor would he like it very much if she’d done the same to him.
He almost regretted it even more when her head lifted and she cast a disapproving stare at him with eyes that looked and pierced through him like ice. Her nose was thin and her skin almost as white as snow. She had small pink lips that were turned into an unimpressed frown. Her hands were crossed and overall she looked incredibly regal- something most Jedi did not have time to achieve.
“Yes?” She said, impatience at the edge of her tone.
In her defense, he was probably staring at her like an idiot. He hoped she did not misconstrue it as gawking, but he was certain that she absolutely was not a Jedi, which made him question many things, but namely what in the force she was doing in the archives.
“Um…” He didn’t know how to go about the conversation, because while intimidating-looking, she didn’t seem innately harmful. She was just reading a book at a table in a library. There were some implications about being so close to Jedi holocrons, but one would require the force to activate them. Everything else in the library was equivalent to that of a major university’s… Technically public. Besides, if he kept an eye on her, she couldn’t do anything truly terrible.
He raised his own book, “May I sit?”
She narrowed her eyes and he wondered if she was trying to burn him with her stare on the spot. He didn’t miss the way her eyes flickered to every single empty table around them before returning to him.
She sighed and waved a small hand in a non-committed gesture that he assumed was her relenting and expressing that she did not care either way. He bit the inside of his cheek when he stumbled into his seat.
“Smooth, Kenobi.”
Regardless, they both made a valiant effort to silently read their respective books. Obi-Wan, for his part, found the same old text incredibly boring in comparison to the utter conundrum of an outsider finding their way into the archives. Who let her in?
He spared her another glance. She seemed very young- likely around the same age he was. He couldn’t remember her face from any terrorist watch list or wanted posters. She wasn’t a politician as far as he could tell, but to be fair, Qui-Gon and he weren’t big on interfering with politics. He was amazed by her confidence and could see how anyone else in here would be fooled into thinking she belonged. She gave off the kind of presence that she owned every room she entered.
He couldn’t tell if that was a positive or negative attribute.
To his embarrassment, he’d been caught staring and in spite of himself, felt his neck growing hot at the implication. In any normal setting, some random guy sitting at the only occupied table (inhabited by an attractive young woman) directly across from her and awkwardly staring? He could understand her frustrations. She did not deserve to feel uncomfortable in such a way. Discretion might have not been explicitly written in the Jedi code, but he was going to have to work on implementing it as a personal code.
“Do you feel you own this table or something? I can move.” She said haughtily.
“Well, my name is on it.” He scratched the back of his neck. He really couldn’t seem to stop digging himself into a ditch when talking to this poor woman, could he?
When she furrowed her brow, he pointed off to the side of her book, where a sloppily-carved signature was engraved into the surface.
“Ah, so you’re…” She squinted to read it, “Owk?”
“They’re my initials.” He shrugged. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
“Obi-Wan Kenobi.” She repeated like he’d somehow said his own name wrong.
“It rhymes a little. Like poetry.” He wanted to disappear into the force right in that moment.
“Like poetry?”
She didn’t give him much reprieve, because she wrinkled her nose. “Have you ever read poetry?”
Yes, yes he had. He was certain that in this mortifying excuse of stealth that he could not remember even a nursery-level poem if he really tried.
“The archives offer everything.” He said simply.
“Including your own table.”
“No one else sits here.” He said.
“I am.”
“Yes, well… I don’t know you.”
She pursed her lips. “And that makes me no one?”
“Of- of course not. No one is no one. That’s silly.”
“But it’s what you said.” She leaned her chin on her hands like she knew she had him in her grasp for the kill. He considered himself a novice at verbal banter, but she had simply taken him off guard and wiped the floor with him repeatedly… Without any mercy.
“I did it when I was a child. Have you never done anything you weren’t supposed to? Or been to a place you weren’t supposed to for that matter?”
It wasn’t subtle, but it seemed to suck a little confidence from her buoyant stance. She crossed her arms and studied him in a new light, perhaps impressed that he’d figured it out or debating how she was going to keep his mouth closed on the matter.
“Are all Jedi able to sense the force in one another?” She asked.
“Most.” He said. “All Jedi have their strong suits.”
She nodded, “Yours is not handwriting.”
“And yours is not friendliness.” He returned.
“We’ve established I’m not a Jedi.”
“But you are someone.” He reiterated. “The question is, who?”
“I don’t owe you an answer.” She said, “I’m waiting for someone, actually. You can ask that kind librarian.”
“That’s Master Jocasta Nu. She is one of the highest regarded Jedi-”
“-And would she be less to you if she was just a librarian?” She questioned.
He wasn’t expecting that. He’d perceived her tone towards Master Nu as derogatory, but it was apparently not. It was almost like she held higher respect for Jocasta the librarian than the Jedi. Or maybe, it wasn’t the profession at all, like she was trying to ask him.
“N-No, but she wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t a Jedi.”
She referred to herself. “And yet…”
He sighed and massaged his temples. “Who are you waiting for?”
“Need I remind you that I do not owe you an answer? Besides, aren’t you just a Padawan?”
He felt anger boil his blood at the slight, but he shot it down as quickly as it rose. He was better than that. She did not know the way. Center. Patience. Serenity.
“Would you respect me less if that were true?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you take me as someone that is that embedded into the politics of your religion?”
“It’s more than a religion. It’s a way of being. The Jedi are guardians of peace across the galaxy.”
“Is that what you’re doing here? Preserving the peace of the Jedi archives by expressing entitlement over a table? All whilst perusing biased literature regarding Mandalorian Wars?”
Biased literature? What on earth was she on about?
“I apologize for intruding what I can only imagine is an enthralling tale of… ‘Pacifism Through the Ages’?” He questioned before continuing, “But it is my right as a Jedi to be concerned of infiltration. It would not be the first time it happened.”
“But you’re not a Jedi, you’re a Padawan.” She pointed out calmly. “So, what right does that grant you?”
“At least mild curiosity?”
“Tell me, Obi-Wan, with all of you Jedi bobbing here and there with those weapons attached to your belts… Everywhere… With minds of your own and a control over a power that connects all of us together… And me, a pacifist that is quietly reading on her own, which do you deem more frightening?”
“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.” He said. “Idealism terrifies people around here.”
“And what’s idealistic about pacifism?” The coolness of her vibrato vanished instantly. He’d struck a cord.
“How much time do you have?” He asked.
“Not as much you!” She snapped. “I certainly don’t have time to go around infringing upon the private studies of young women.”
He opened his mouth to return fire with fire, because how often was he going to go circles with a woman who he didn’t even know the name of? It was infuriating and it shouldn’t be. He was to be a Jedi and had to control such aggravations. She did not have the blessed gift of the force to release her anger into. She didn’t have such protection or warmth.
Still, he had a retort on the edge of his lips, before a hand clamped onto his shoulder.
“Ah, my young Padawan! I see you met Satine Kryze.”
He looked up at Master Qui-Gon with confusion and then back to the young woman- Satine- in apprehension. Satine looked equally as perturbed and her eyes widened slightly.
Satine Kryze…?
He glanced down to his book for a moment before he met her narrowed eyes once again.
“Yes, that one.” She talked to him like he was slow to the uptake, which he resented, but tried to bury deep. She did not seem pleased either.
“The Duke’s eldest daughter. She’s coming with us to Mandalore. We’re to keep her safe.” Qui-Gon smiled like he didn’t catch on to the energy of Obi-Wan and Satine’s horrible first meeting. By the way his hand tightened ever so slightly on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, he definitely had.
This… was going to be a long mission.