Chapter Text
It had been a long day, and the night promised to be even worse as bombing had begun hours earlier. Jon had been chained to the same wall for more days than he could count without any time markers and he hadn't had a human or droid presence in a long time, and if there wasn't a drain hole for natural needs, Jon would be surrounded by his own excrement. Even so, he preferred this situation, because when his captors focused on him he was 'interrogated' as well as being beaten and starved, so his current situation was preferable. Except for the part where silence and social isolation were forms of torture that could drive one mad.
He didn't expect to be rescued either, his prison was deep underground and although the explosions shook the ground enough for him to feel them, he knew the underground building was old enough not to be listed. Even if the troops were Grand Army of the Republic - and therefore clones and Jedi - Jon had done his best to avoid them and anyway there was no guarantee that there would be a Jedi among them or that they would believe he was who he claimed to be, he might as well be knocked out and incarcerated as a Separatist.
He didn't move when the shaking stopped or when it resumed an indeterminate moment later, he had no energy, drowsing more than anything else. The toilet was of little use to him now, he hadn't eaten in many days and was already beginning to feel weak and unsteady when he got up, and he could only take a few steps anyway, he was hampered by chains on his feet and left hand, keeping him bound to the wall.
Jon had looked at that wall so much that he could pick out the exact shade of grey from his cell out of a hundred paint colour choices. He'd counted every mark on the walls - 156 - and every old bloodstain - 23 - and each new detail had finally bored him instead of provoking the desired dread in him. He was bored, he wanted to get out, he didn't like being lazy and useless.
A 'much closer' explosion finally made him look up and he abruptly raised his head. More and more loud and abrupt noises reached his ears until finally gunfire broke out. The Republic.
All his senses were alert, and he screamed, trying to get attention, screaming to the point of losing what little voice he had left as footsteps passed right by his door without stopping. The cells were well hidden behind decorations, but still, they weren't just going to walk by without noticing him? He wasn't going to die of hunger and thirst in this place!
- "Here! Help! HERE!" He tried without stopping, continuing on despite the tears streaming down his cheeks at the feeling of his dry throat tearing and cracking from the inside.
He stopped short of breath, watching with bated breath as no one was outside. He was alone.
Just when Jon had lost hope, she had appeared. Never before had Jon thought a person was beautiful, but never before had he come across a Jedi who seemed to so simply 'breathe' the Force.
She seemed so simply to embody wisdom, authority and strength, and he was overwhelmed.
With a green, lit lightsaber in hand, she slipped through the opening she'd made in the wall and landed softly on the dusty, dirty floor. Jon saw the face of his savior with the disbelief of a man who had lost all hope and was struggling to understand that his rescue was not an illusion created by a tired mind in denial.
- I am Jedi Master Luminara Unduli, you are now in my custody while your identity and status is identified and verified. Are you injured?
The Mirialian's words with the incredibly blue eyes woke Jon, who nodded briefly and coughed painfully.
- Yes. Not fed. No water. Nothing.
Master Unduli merely grimaced briefly and nodded sadly before approaching. She took from her pockets a small flask and a piece of cloth which she moistened and wiped hos face and neck carefully and gently.
- It's all right, you're safe.
She then gave him a few sips of water which made him notice with surprise that the liquid had become a real surprise in terms of sensation.
- Thank you.
- You are safe with me, I swear you will not be mistreated by us.
Her serene, unwavering gaze commanded respect... she was beautiful, for the first time Jon wondered why his Master despised the Jedi in the Temple, if they were like her, benevolent, hardworking and conscientious.
Jon believed her, and he knew that if he was truly a ruthless bounty hunter, she would keep her promise too.
She slit her chains and calmly put away her lightsaber before leaning over him.
- I'm sorry to rush you, but I have some questions...
- "I'll answer," Jon promised.
- Who are you and why were you held here?
- I was detained because I am a bounty hunter who tried to steal confidential and compromising information, they tried to make me confess the identity of my sponsor.
- Why did you want to steal them? For the money?
- Money is the main driver of bounty hunters.
- But aren't you a separatist?
- I'm not a separatist, you don't always get to choose your missions.
He had promised to answer, not to tell the truth.
She seemed to think about it seriously and seemed understanding.
- "To each his own job, it takes all sorts to make a world," she said wisely, managing to give the phrase an air of ancestry and dignity where Jon's Master always came across as very arrogant.
- "Indeed," Jon agreed softly. "I am Master Jon Antilles, Jedi."
She looked at him with renewed interest, her eyes crinkling with uncomfortable concentration on his bare face. She looked slightly away from his face and Jon felt his body gradually relax. She had pretended not to see anything so he did not thank her, for that would be to acknowledge what they had tacitly decided to keep quiet about.
- Master Antilles... didn't you die a few months ago with some other Jedi? Master Kenobi was saddened by your passing.
Jon winced and shrugged.
- I had to disappear, it was a good opportunity.
- Why disappear?
- "No one can look for you when you're dead," Jon explained briefly. "And no one can even imagine that you could be a person who died so spectacularly."
- Hmm... Your infiltration of the Bounty Hunters' Guild is impressive, Master Antilles.
She applied a few patches of bacta to his face and gave him some more water before their attention was drawn to the 'door'.
- General Unduli? General!
- Commander, I'm here!
The footsteps were coming closer and closer.
- "No one must know I'm alive," he begged before a coughing fit hit him. "Please."
The Jedi looked at him with a complicated, tortured expression before her face took on a resolute, determined look.
She nodded gravely and carefully knelt between Jon's still extended legs, grasping his hands.
- I choose you this day, I offer you protection in exchange for an eternal covenant, do you accept?
- "I accept," Jon replied before he could really think, the Force just seemed so... approving, and he would have said yes anyway, he really didn't want his survival to be known.
- Then you're mine.
As the solemn words passed through Jon's swirling thoughts, the Jedi became concerned that the words sounded threatening and laden with intent, and the man had no time to react as the Mirialian placed her lips on his, pressing firmly into a kiss that was nonetheless soft and slightly tentative. Uncertain, Jon experimentally pressed back and felt the woman relax against him.
Silently, she stepped back and slowly raised her arms, and Jon felt his eyes widen in spite of himself as he watched her gently grasp the fabric of her imposing traditional headdress.
What was she doing?
You could see the whole body of a Mirialian woman and she wouldn't be naked as long as she had her hair covered. Conversely, seeing a Mirialian woman's hair was reserved for the privacy of the home and was very much tied to the couple, yet this Jedi respectful of the traditions of her people presented herself to him au naturel, long silky hair flowing freely over her shoulders and down her back, shiny and the whole situation had a forbidding taste that made it all the more incredible.
The Jedi smiled awkwardly and wrapped one of her veils around Jon's face, then another, clearly following a very specific and learned pattern, so he did nothing, as each movement covered his face a little more and protected his identity a little more.
By the time the first clones reached the hole in the wall, Jon was unrecognisable and Master Unduli had a clean haircut again.
- "Commander Fil, soldiers, this is Master Unduli," the Mirialian introduced as she helped Jon to his feet.
He didn't like being so weak on his legs, it was really unpleasant.
- Sir?
- He was a prisoner, he will accompany us.
- "Are you related?" asked a clone curiously, his voice soft.
- "He is of my family," the Mirialian confirmed with a detached air. "According to Mirialian custom, a man does not show his face in public."
The clone looked between the two Jedi and pulled Jon's lightsaber from his belt.
- We found this on display downstairs, General Unduli.
- "Thank you," Jon finally replied, remembering his new false identity.
He retrieved his weapon and sat in the corner on a crate with a clone to protect him and waited in silence as the clones and Jedi teamed up to search the area. He was surprised to see a second Mirialian who greeted him respectfully and took his hand to circulate a cool and pleasant healing energy through him, for which he was incredibly grateful. Her name was Barriss Offee, she was Master Unduli's Padawan and didn't waste time on pointless conversations, preferring to go and tend to wounded soldiers, which Jon agreed with, she had the right priorities.
Suddenly a dark figure stood before him.
- We're done here, come on.
Jon stood up carefully and followed Master Unduli to a tent that consisted of more anonymity than they had had so far.
- Why 'Unduli'?
- I beg your pardon?
- Why did you introduce me as 'Master Unduli'?
- "Because I took a vow of honesty," the Jedi explained.
That explained 'nothing'...
- Okay... but why that name and not another?
- "Earlier, you married me, so I could honestly introduce you as an Unduli without lying because you joined my family, the Mirialians are matrimonial," the Jedi said with a confused look. "You... oh Force, I thought you knew."
No, Jon... didn't know he was newly married.
- "I'm so sorry," the Mirialian apologized, a hand over her mouth as her only expression of shock. "I... Mirialians don't get divorced, it doesn't exist in our culture because we're polygamous, I'm sorry I thought you knew and approved..."
Jon thought, but there wasn't much to think about. He was free of his prison and still anonymous, everything was fine from his point of view. The Force wasn't sending him any negative messages, so... why worry? It was just an arranged marriage for convenience, so he shouldn't think too much about it. For example, his wife's beautiful hair. Or her rare but radiant smile. Or her gentle serenity.
He removed his veil and smiled slightly.
- It's all right, I'm not angry. I am honoured to have married you, Master Unduli.
She smiled with relief and a gentle, teasing wink:
- So am I, Master Unduli.