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This mission sucked. Obi-Wan had been neck-deep in negotiations for days now – for hours every day – and his directive to Anakin could basically be translated to 'sit there, be quiet, and look pretty'. Anakin was bored.
The last two days he'd gotten out of the negotiations and had been allowed to explore the city for a bit – as long as he stayed in the designated (ergo boring) area. It had at least been somewhat of a distraction. But then today, he'd been with Obi-Wan when they had come to fetch him and so he had been invited along. An invitation that obviously could not be refuted once it had been issued.
It also did not help that negotiations on this planet were steeped in tradition and therefore consisted of more pomp and circumstance than actual negotiation. (There was a reason the duration for this mission had 'optimistically' been designated as three months.) Three months of negotiations where he had to keep his mouth shut lest he set negotiations back by another month to alleviate the unintended insult any breach in protocol was interpreted as.
Luckily he was not actually required to attend the negotiations aside from the first day (introductions) and the final three days (the recap of agreements, the actual signing and the 'repast of accord' which was apparently some kind of hours long feast that spanned a whole day with it's ceremonies.) But tradition also dictated that any negotiator's retinue if encountered with him at the beginning of the day's proceedings had to be invited with him as it would be impolite to only invite one person out of a group and obviously such an invitation could not be declined – it would be a show of disrespect.
So, in short, he was stuck. And bored.
Obi-Wan had given him the advice to use this as an opportunity to meditate and tune out distractions. Anakin hated meditating on a good day. It required sitting still. He had never been good at that. He was still not good at it now. He could not help but fidget. He tried to keep it at a minimum because – of course – fidgeting showed disinterest and was (you guessed it) considered an insult.
He was not even sure really why they had to be here. As far as he could tell it was a tiny planet somewhere on the border between the mid and outer rim that had no conceivable significance whatsoever. But they had asked for Jedi mediator for help with negotiations between two rivalling parties and so they had been sent. (He would not put it past the green troll that they had been assigned this mission simply as a test of patience.)
If could have at least some parts to fiddle with or some tiny gadget to repair while he listened it would have been... not bearable, but better. Alas he had to sit still and silent and listen to Obi-Wan facilitate negotiations about some sort of grain fields and their irrigation. (Why irrigation was an issue on a planet with such heavy rain fall every other day, he did not know. It's not like their grain would lack water.)
He kept glancing at the chrono – he couldn't tell if it was a blessing or a curse that his seat was positioned slightly to the side opposite the massive time piece set high in the wall above the entrance. On the one hand, he could count down the seconds until they would be released for the day. On the other hand, he could count down the seconds until they would be released for the day.
Naturally he wouldn't be allowed to check the clock if it wasn't in his field of vision already when he looked onto the negotiations, but it was. Had it really only been two minutes and 23seconds since the last time he had checked the chrono? It felt like it had been ages.
His leg kept twitching. He'd taking to pressing his hands on his knees beneath the table to keep them still. (His hands and his legs.) But it was driving him crazy . Give him a mission full of danger and battle over this any day. Maybe he was spoiled given that technically his first mission had been Naboo (or maybe he could even count the Boonta Eve Classic) not that it had been in any way an official or sanctioned mission. Still, after those it was hard to take milk runs all that seriously, let alone this.
Also, he was hungry. At least a rumbling stomach was not one of the many, many causes of insult. (Unlike a trip to a fresher, those you could control and therefore time according to the negotiation shedule... at least that's what their information packet said.) Eating was not allowed outside the designated food breaks, and drinking was only allowed at certain intervals (in between the different speeches and appeals and presentation-of-argument-s). But it seemed that they had had enough negotiations with differing species before that involuntary signs of hunger were not counted.
It was still embarrassing though.
He kept trying not to fidget. Another minute and a half. His nose was starting to itch. Two minutes. Scratch that, it was itching. He curled his hands into fists on his knees to keep himself from scratching the itch. He tried holding his breath, maybe that would make it go away? It didn't. Could he release the itch into the force the way he kept being told to release his emotions? (And really, what was up with that?) But trying to concentrate on the force, while distracting him for a moment, did not actually help with his itching nose.
And now it was not simply itching but he also started to feel the urge to sneeze. Oh no. Sneezing hadn't been covered in their information packet but if he'd have to guess... it would be seen as an insult.
Keep still. Do not scratch. Do not sneeze. Just keep still. Breathe through it. There is no itch there is only the force. (The bastardisation of the code made even him cringe inside.) Just breathe.
He could feel his nails dig into his palm and he tried to concentrate on the little pinpricks of pain. Anything to distract himself from the itch and twitch of his nose.
Another minute passed.
And another.
He let out a sigh of relief. It seemed the danger had passed and the itch had receded. Good.
And then his leg started to cramp.
He pressed his foot to the floor and tried to tense and release the muscles in his leg. Tense and release. Tense and release. Not that that really worked with a cramp but he had to try something. Obi-Wan would kill him if he made a commotion or interrupted proceedings in any way.
He was a Jedi. (Jedi Padawan but who cared.) He could stay still. He could tune out such insignificant pain. He could -
His leg spasmed.
He paled. He hoped no one had noticed.
It seemed no one had.
He took a deep breath and concentrated on somehow relieving the cramp without moving. Then he tried to use the Force to tune it out.
A minute.
Two.
Three.
Maybe he was in the clear. Good. He couldn't really feel his leg currently but that was better than the alternative. It was fine. Everything was fine. He could go back to simply being bored now. Everything was fi-
His leg spasmed again.
Only this time he accidentally kicked out at a leg of the table, making it quiver ever so slightly. Kriff.
Maybe it would still be fine. Nothing had happened. Nothing- Oh no.
The delicate sculpture in the middle of the table – representing some deity of good will or other – began to quiver, to wobble, unbalancing ever so slightly more with each tremble. He did not want to imagine what that would mean as an interruption and how much it would prolong their mission.
In his moment of panic he reached out with the force to grab it and keep it still.
For a moment he thought it worked.
Then... a creak.
Anakin watched in horror as the figurine shattered into a million pieces.
Instantly the current speaker stopped and the hall was dead silent aside from the tinkling of glass shards hitting the table. All eyes were fixed on the disaster.
Silence.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
The hall erupted into a cacophony of sound. Everyone was suddenly talking and yelling. Anakin could barely breathe though he tried to look innocent and as shocked as everyone else. He could feel Obi-Wan hone in on him though. He was not looking forward to that conversation.
It took Obi-Wan twenty minutes and a Force push to call for silence. No weapons had been drawn but from what Anakin could gather in the yelling, the statuette shattering was an omen. An ill omen that spoke of subterfuge, trickery, duplicity and even outright fraud.
Each side accused the other of corruption. Of being dishonourable and disrespecting the ancient traditions by bringing lies and deceit to the table. Obi-Wan tried to intervene but his voice was drowned out entirely.
Needless to say, the negotiations had screeched to a halt. They first got postponed, then cancelled. The Jedi were both thanked for aiding in unveiling such corruption and sent home in scorn for the negotiations failed.
It was only three years later that negotiations were attempted again. Needless to say, the temple sent another Master-Padawan team in their stead and Anakin could still feel his ears ring from the lecture that Obi-Wan had given him.