Chapter Text
Obi-Wan’s first task was to assemble his lightsaber - he couldn’t begin his training without it - but not all of the parts were readily available, and some were quite difficult to come by, especially in the quaint market places of Theed.
In the meantime, the senator had given him a Jedi holocron to study from.
Obi-Wan had never seen a holocron before. As far as he knew, they were all sealed deep within the Jedi Archives, in the vaults, accessible only to Council members. But it seemed this was not the case, for the senator had many such artifacts in his possession - forbidden Jedi texts and so on - much of which would have been lost had Palpatine not used his own wealth to finance various archaeological expeditions. By his own admission, he was particularly interested in the teachings of the exiled Jedi Master Kreia, along with other nameless Jedi who had either left the Order or been expelled for one reason or another, and he had made it his personal mission to find and preserve their ancient wisdom.
“This knowledge is strictly forbidden.” The senator was nervously pacing the carpet, wringing his hands as he spoke. “If the Jedi ever found out I was in possession of such a holocron-“
“I won’t tell them,” Obi-Wan said, reassuringly. They’d had this conversation many times before, but Palpatine seemed anxious tonight.
They were due to attend a party at the Russo Estate, where Obi-Wan would be introduced to the nobility, many of whom were his distant cousins. Russo himself was one of Palpatine’s chief political rivals in Theed - they, too, were related by blood - but the senator hardly paid him any mind. He was much more concerned about the Jedi who were rumored to be in attendance.
Obi-Wan was slightly apprehensive as well. He hadn’t spoken to a single Jedi since leaving the Order, and he was inclined to keep it that way.
“I still don’t understand why they were even invited,” he said, fixing his cravat in the mirror. There was a distracted look on his face. What business did the Jedi have on Naboo? A Mid Rim planet of little consequence. As his father so often pointed out, the Jedi rarely ventured outside the Core, leaving the rest of the galaxy to fend for itself.
The senator appeared over his shoulder. He reached out to brush a spec of dust from Obi-Wan’s sleeve, then said, “This is privileged information, but I hear tell that Russo is getting paranoid in his old age. He was involved in a speeder accident a few weeks back, and he suspects foul play. He also claims to have received death threats-“
“Death threats?”
Palpatine shrugged, as if he didn’t particularly care one way or the other. “Hardly surprising. Russo is corrupt, and he has a number of disreputable allies. Perhaps he ran afoul of one of his ‘friends’. The Jedi are here at his discretion, I imagine. For protection.”
Obi-Wan frowned. “If Russo is corrupt, why are the Jedi protecting him?”
The senator’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “Because he’s friendly with the Chancellor, and you know how it is." His voice was a cynical drawl. “The Republic is rotten to the core. The Jedi may not be corrupt themselves, but they have become an accessory to corruption. They serve men like Russo, while turning a blind eye to slavery in the Outer Rim. But enough of this depressing talk," he said, stepping back to appraise Obi-Wan in the mirror. He clapped his hands, breaking into a grin. “There. Don’t you look handsome.”
The Jedi Master’s plain, simple garb made him stand out from the glittering crowd that swirled through the vestibule and into the gilded dance hall, his dark brown robes setting him apart from the richly dressed nobility. He towered over the other guests, standing a foot taller than most, surrounded by a flock of curious onlookers. His arms were folded across his chest, a lightsaber holstered at his hip.
Obi-Wan was cutting across the floor, winding through the crowd of partygoers, when he noticed him. He stopped abruptly and stared at the man, clutching his drink in his hand. Even standing at a distance, the Jedi’s proud, bearded face was unmistakable. The sloped brow, the arched nose, the long graying hair… Here was the so-called renegade, Qui-Gon Jinn.
Jinn had been at Obi-Wan’s Trials, and he had turned the boy down with barely a glance. Obi-Wan still felt the sting of rejection. His face burned at the memory, flushing a deep red. Jinn had been the one to criticize him for his aggressive fighting style.
Obi-Wan raised his glass and took a sip of blossom wine to wash away the bitter taste in his mouth.
He was about to move along when he noticed Jinn staring at him. A breath caught in his throat - did Qui-Gon recognize him? - but the Jedi simply nodded at Obi-Wan with a look of polite detachment and then looked away. Obi-Wan went rigid. His stomach plummeted, his face paled. He no longer felt the flush of heat, only an ice-cold rage.
Passed over again, just like at the Temple.
He downed the rest of his drink and began shoving his way through the crowd, towards the balcony. He needed some fresh air.
“Obi?”
The sound of his name being called in a soft, feminine voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned slowly, gazing in disbelief at the familiar face that greeted him.
“Siri?” He shook himself out of his daze, blinking as he took in her glowing appearance. Dressed in Jedi robes, her ashen blonde hair was pinned up in a loose bun, a padawan braid tucked behind her ear.
He stared for a moment, as if he didn’t recognize her. But, of course, she looked exactly the same. He was the one who looked different.
Her face lit up. “Look at you!” She cried, deep blue eyes sparkling with laughter. Obi-Wan ducked his head, coughing in faint embarrassment. He had become so used to living among the Naboo, he could only imagine how he must look to her, swathed in silk and brocade. Siri looked him up and down, eyeing his jeweled ear, but her smile bore no judgment. “You grew your hair out." She leaned forward, reaching out a hand to brush a stray auburn lock from his forehead. Her expression sobered. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too - you and Bant,” he added quickly, loosening his cravat; it felt very tight all of a sudden.
“I can see why you left,” Siri continued without pause. She threw out her arms and spun in a half circle, admiring the view of the ballroom. “Naboo is a beautiful planet. If I ever leave the Order, can I move in with you?”
Obi-Wan had to stop himself from blurting out something foolish. Siri was only joking. She would never leave the Order. He hurriedly changed the subject. “You’re here on Jedi business, I take it?” Feigning ignorance.
And if she was here with Qui-Gon, that could only mean one thing. Jinn had chosen Siri for a padawan.
“Yes…” she trailed off, wincing apologetically. “I’m sorry, I can’t say more. Its not that I don’t trust you-“
“You’re here because of Russo,” he said bluntly, ignoring her look of surprise. He snorted a laugh. “Do the Jedi have nothing better to do? It’s not as if he can’t afford his own security.” He glanced around the opulent ballroom, rolling his eyes upwards towards the crystal chandelier.
Siri grabbed Obi-Wan by the sleeve, pulling him aside. Her voice dropped to a heated whisper. “Russo has been receiving death threats.”
Obi-Wan shook her off. “Am I supposed to care?” He leaned back against the wall, fussing with the hem of his vest. “Russo is corrupt, or did the Jedi miss that little detail?”
Siri drew back, startled by his apparent coldness. She hesitated a moment, worrying her lip. Her brow was lined with confusion, but she managed to say, “The Chancellor asked us to-“
“So you serve the Chancellor now?” He couldn’t stop himself. “I thought the Jedi were supposed to serve the will of the Force?”
Siri shot him a wry look. “You sound like Master Jinn. He didn’t want to come, but the Council insisted. You should speak to him. It sounds like the two of you have a lot in common.”
Obi-Wan’s face hardened, blue eyes darkening to a stormy gray. He turned his head to stare out the window, sneering at his own reflection in the glass. “I have nothing to say to him.” His voice was short and clipped.
Their conversation ended on that note. Siri politely made an excuse to leave, and Obi-Wan was left standing by the window, watching her vanish into the crowd. He could tell she was hurt, and he was half-tempted to chase after her and apologize, but something stopped him. He hadn’t said anything wrong.
His father came up behind him. “Lovely girl,” he said, having apparently witnessed the whole scene. There was something suggestive in his tone, but Obi-Wan ignored it.
He was slow to respond. “That was Siri,” dropping his gaze to stare into his empty wine glass. “She and I were friends at the Temple.”
The senator was astute as ever. “Were?” He regarded the boy curiously, stroking his chin. “Ah, well, things change,” he mused, letting his hand fall by his side.
“She hasn’t changed. I have.”
Palpatine’s smile widened. “For the better, I should hope.” He took Obi-Wan by the elbow, gently pulling him along. They fell into step, strolling the perimeter of the dance hall. Perhaps sensing his desire to leave, the senator draped an arm around the boy’s shoulder, steering him towards the door. Obi-Wan made it a point not to glance in Qui-Gon’s direction as they passed by.
“Can we go home now?” He muttered under his breath.
The senator bowed his head, smiling graciously. His face was a placid mask, but Obi-Wan knew him well enough by now. The presence of the Jedi made him nervous for reasons the boy still did not fully understand. “Of course.” His voice was tense. “Go and wait for me and the hall. I’ll be with you in a moment. Then we can finally leave this place.”
As soon as Obi-Wan stepped into the hall, he felt it: a faint tremble in the Force.
Something terrible was about to happen.