Chapter Text
They say wildfires are beneficial to life on any healthy planet. Yes, they may ravage and destroy every living thing in their unpredictable path, but once the final embers cool and all that’s left is ash and smoke, life can begin anew.
Mother Talzin views Anakin Skywalker in much the same way.
With all her gifts, the Force has shown her many things, and she knows the ruins that will be left in Skywalker’s wake. He is a natural disaster, poised to lay waste to anyone in his path. He is a storm — electric energy practically overflowing from his own, barely contained power.
But if Anakin Skywalker is the storm, Obi-Wan Kenobi is the calm before it.
And they’re on their way.
Few things in the galaxy are more dangerous than the pride of a powerful man.
Or perhaps, in this case, a powerful Zabrak.
Wars are so often fought over nothing short of pride. Obi-Wan is certain that pride lies in the muddy origins of the Clone War. So much hate, so much conflict… it all comes back to pride, amongst other things of course. Fear, anger, hatred, and the whole speech that was drilled into him in his youth.
Sometimes, Obi-Wan wonders what Maul was like before he turned to the Darkside. When did he fall? Could it all have been prevented if only a Jedi, or even a kind soul, had intervened?
But then he stops his wondering. It is not the Jedi way to dream of what-if scenarios, after all. The only thing that is ever certain to a Jedi is what lies in front of him, and currently, the only thing in front of Obi-Wan is hyperspace.
Beside him, however, is his former Padawan. Anakin fidgets uncomfortably in his seat, too eager and too impatient to reach their destination. Part of Obi-Wan thinks that is hardly fair. If anything, Obi-Wan is the one who should be fidgeting and impatient. Maul has wreaked havoc and thoroughly altered the direction of his life forever, not Anakin’s. Not in the same way, anyway.
Anakin says that Maul is Obi-Wan’s “arch nemesis” but Obi-Wan thinks that is a ridiculous notion. Normal people do not have arch nemeses and Obi-Wan is a very normal person.
At least he tries to be.
He seems to find himself constantly thrust into abnormal positions, and Maul is the reason he fell into the most abnormal of them all: a Padawan with a Padawan of his own.
Of course, Obi-Wan did not remain a Padawan for very long, though the sense of inadequacy took its time to dissipate — if it ever indeed did.
He supposes those feelings can’t all be blamed on Maul.
A sharp ping resounds through the cockpit as a screw Anakin was messing with falls to the floor.
“Anakin, would you please stop messing with things? It would be bad form to have the ship fall apart before we reach our destination,” Obi-Wan chides.
“That is a huge exaggeration, Master and you know it,” Anakin replies.
He does know it, but Obi-Wan has always found that messing with Anakin does tend to take the boy’s mind off of things. Light banter has always been more preferable to him than fidgeting around like a youngling. It’s far less irritating, and it serves the underhanded purpose of taking his mind off of things too.
“Still, Anakin, this ship is not your property, I would recommend leaving all of the screws where they are meant to be.”
“I’ll put it back! I’m just—”
“Anxious?”
“Actually, I was going to say bored.”
“But you’re anxious too, aren’t you?”
Anakin glares at Obi-Wan. “What about you?” he deflects. “I know what this mission means to you.”
Obi-Wan swallows. “Yes, well, I suppose I’m anxious for it to be over.” He leaves out his fears that this mission will lead them to yet another dead end where they don’t find Maul, and they will be forced to keep searching while he rages through the galaxy, destroying anything Obi-Wan has ever touched or found sacred. He also leaves out his fears that they will find Maul and he will have no choice but to face him. Again.
This time with Anakin.
His deepest fear of all is not that Maul will kill him, but that he’ll kill Anakin and leave him to live on. Just as he did with Qui-Gon. Just as he did with Satine.
It’s not just a fear, it’s a nightmare . One that he’s had over and over since the day Qui-Gon died. Obi-Wan has several recurring nightmares, all dark and foreboding, but this one now seems the most likely to come true.
It would be the ultimate revenge to take Anakin down — to take both his Master and his Padawan. It’s why Obi-Wan initially fought against bringing Anakin along on this mission. He was quickly reminded by his fellow Council members to see past his attachments. Obi-Wan works best with Anakin. Anakin is one of the strongest Jedi in the Order. He will be needed to take down the Sith. Truly, it would be unwise for Anakin to be left out of the mission. To leave Anakin behind would have been to give in to his attachment to him.
But good Jedi know how to let go of their attachments, and Obi-Wan is a good Jedi.
“Do you think we’ll actually find him?” Anakin asks.
“No, I don’t think he’ll be on Dathomir. But the Night Sisters are the best lead we have. Hopefully, they can point us in the right direction.”
“Hopefully. This trip is stupid long to be making it for nothing.”
Obi-Wan can’t help but agree with the sentiment. He’s tired of flying in the cramped ship and he longs for solid ground to stretch his legs on. Not that Dathomir is the solid ground he has in mind, but at least he will be doing something other than waiting for his fate to meet him head-on.
“Just a few more hours, Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighs.
Anakin huffs and leans his head back. “Fine. Then I’m going to sleep through it. Wake me up if you start to crash the ship or something.”
Obi-Wan glares at him. “I’m not going to crash the—”
“Hush, I’m sleeping.”
Obi-Wan rolls his eyes but double-checks the safety meters on the dashboard. Soon enough, Anakin’s breath evens out and Obi-Wan is left alone with nothing but the void of hyperspace, a sleeping former apprentice, and his thoughts.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan hisses, shoving his shoulder. “Anakin, wake up.”
“Huh?” Anakin grunts, blinking heavily. “What’s up?”
“ What’s up ,” Obi-Wan mutters. “Oh, nothing much. We’ve only just arrived on Dathomir so that we can continue our mission to find and kill Darth Maul, you know, the Sith .”
Anakin yawns. “Oh yeah.” He undoes his safety restraints and stands up, stretching his arms over his head. “Just another normal day for Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker, Heroes of the Galaxy.”
“Don’t call us that. You know I hate it when the holo news calls us that.”
“It’s all part of the war machine, Master.”
“I suppose there was never a good war without good public relations,” Obi-Wan sighs but straightens up. “We need to get moving.”
“Fine, fine. We’ll have time to revel in our glory and honor later.”
“Sometimes I think you’re only half joking when you say these things.”
Anakin shrugs and purses his lips.
“I’m going to ignore that,” Obi-Wan says.
Obi-Wan touches a hand to his lightsaber, despite feeling its familiar weight on his hip. It’s an old habit that every single Jedi seems to have. Anakin mimics the movement before opening the door and lowering the ramp. Together, they exit the ship and take their first steps onto the red-tinted planet of Dathomir.
“This place is so creepy,” Anakin says. “Do we even know where we’re going?”
“No,” Obi-Wan admits. “We’re searching for the Night Sisters. They must have a gathering point somewhere around here.”
“Hmm. If I was a crazy, Darkside, Force-wielding witch, where would I want my super secret lair to be?”
“Hard to say. Hiding a whole coven requires just the right location,” Obi-Wan says dryly.
“I would, of course, want a view. Something extra red and creepy.”
“A nice kitchen is a must. Where else would you put your boiling cauldron of potions and elixirs?”
“Very good point, Master. Maybe we should quit our day jobs as Generals and Jedi and just become professional realtors.”
Obi-Wan snorts. “Fine. If the whole Jedi thing doesn’t work out, we can start Kenobi-Skywalker Realty.”
“Only if we call it Skywalker-Kenobi Realty.”
Obi-Wan can’t help the slight grin on his face. Levity is much needed on a planet such as this with a mission such as theirs.
Especially as an arrow whizzes past his ear.
“Anakin!” Obi-Wan exclaims. His former Padawan is already ahead of him, his blue blade cutting through the red mist to tint the air purple. Obi-Wan’s blade does the same.
“Where are they?” Anakin asks.
“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan says. He looks amongst the dark trees, searching for the Zabrak witches. “I think they’re shielding themselves in the Force.”
Another arrow is loosed, this time towards Anakin. He slices it in half before it can touch him.
“Great,” Anakin huffs.
It appears the first two arrows were mere warning shots. A flurry of arrows sings through the air toward Obi-Wan and Anakin.
There’s something different about these arrows. They are not the modern, electro-arrows the tribe has used in the past. These arrows are far more archaic — metal and wood.
Anakin and Obi-Wan raise their sabers and deflect them. Wood splinters in the air and their sabers hum with every strike. An arrow nearly strikes Obi-Wan, but Anakin twists himself to cut it in half before it can reach its target.
The move, while sparing Obi-Wan, leaves Anakin vulnerable.
Anakin cries out, sinking to his knees. An arrow sticks out of his thigh, having managed to pierce through Anakin’s leathers and into his flesh. He drops his saber and it rolls away from his reach.
“Anakin!” Obi-Wan summons Anakin’s fallen saber and ignites it, using it to shield his prone form while he attempts to return it to him.
“Master,” Anakin pants. “There’s something wrong.”
“Yes, you just got shot with an arrow, and they are still firing at us. Excellent observation.”
“No,” he says breathlessly. “The arrow… I think it was poisoned.”
Obi-Wan tries to smother his rising panic. “Poison?”
“Yes, I…” Anakin’s eyes glaze over and he slumps to the ground.
“Anakin!” Obi-Wan shouts. In his distraction, he does not see the arrow coming toward him from behind.
It strikes him in the back of his shoulder, the tip piercing all the way through to the other side.
Fire.
White-hot fire.
His shoulder burns as an acidic poison enters his bloodstream and pulses ever closer to his heart.
The arrows stop firing at him, just as he collapses onto the ground, the arrow still poking through the front of his shoulder.
Out of the shadows, gaunt and lanky Zabrak females stalk ever closer. The coven circles and surrounds the pair of Jedi. They are birds of prey and Anakin and Obi-Wan have found themselves to be helpless rodents.
“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan gasps with his last dregs of consciousness.
The females do not answer him. Instead, they pull out ropes.
Paralyzed, Obi-Wan can do nothing as the Night Sisters bind his arms and his legs, painfully wrenching his wounded shoulder in the process.
“What… what are…”
Obi-Wan cannot finish the sentence as the poison does its work and sends him down into the empty pit of unconsciousness.
Obi-Wan’s shoulder is on fire. A clawing, biting heat radiates from the wound the arrow left in his flesh. At least the arrow has been removed. It might have posed a larger problem otherwise. This thought hardly eases his current anxieties, however.
Something cold and hard is pressed to his back and only then does he realize he is laying down on a stone slab. His wrists and ankles are bound to the slab, allowing him only the slightest movements. He writhes about anyway, testing the limits of the binds.
His attempts do not go unpunished. Every time he pulls against the restraints, they sting him with a cool lick of magic. It has to be magic. There is no terrestrial weaponry or material that can cause the hair-raising sensation currently originating in his wrists and ankles.
Exhausted from his futile attempts, Obi-Wan’s body goes lax. He looks up at his surroundings. The room they're in is more of a cave than anything. Everything appears to be made of stone, though it was not formed or constructed by the hands of men — or women, in this case.
He turns his head to the side.
“Hello, Master,” Anakin says groggily. He appears to be in a similar state — his body is held down to a slab with glowing restraints. A green mist emits from them.
Definitely magic .
Obi-Wan scans his eyes over Anakin until they land on his legs. Blood still seeps from the wound in his leg and it has begun to spill onto and over the slab, staining the side a deep crimson. Even in the dim light, Anakin’s face is pale.
“We need to stop that bleeding,” Obi-Wan says.
“Good idea,” Anakin replies, his voice tight. “How do you suggest we do that?”
“We need to get out of here.”
“Obi-Wan Kenobi, everybody! Master strategist!” Anakin shouts. His voice echoes through the odd, stony structure they find themselves in.
“ Quiet , Anakin,” Obi-Wan hisses.
“Why? We’re not getting out of here on our own. I was hoping you could talk to them, since that’s kinda what you do, right? And then once you talk our way out of this I can go and kick some—”
“ Anakin .”
“Do you have a better plan?”
“No, but—”
Obi-Wan is cut off by an overwhelming presence in the Force. Anakin’s presence is overwhelming but in a different way. His presence is like a wave breaking against Obi-Wan’s metaphorical rocks. This presence is like a heavy fog threatening to smother him to suffocation.
“Males and their senseless drivel,” Mother Talzin tsks.
“ You ,” Anakin says, the word a threat on his tongue.
Obi-Wan shoots a glare at Anakin, hoping to convey the sentiment of please don’t anger the Force witch any more than she already is, Anakin .
Anakin just shoots a glare right back at him that says I will do whatever I want, now stop nagging me.
“You need to heal him,” Obi-Wan says. “He’ll bleed out if he continues like this.”
“The boy will live,” Mother Talzin says, almost dismissively.
“You don’t understand. He doesn’t have Zabrak physiology, he’ll die if that isn’t treated,” Obi-Wan says with more urgency.
“The boy will live,” Mother Talzin insists again. “The boy will live because you are going to make a choice, though I already know what you are going to choose.”
Obi-Wan glances at Anakin. His skin has only drawn paler and his eyes appear glassy and distant.
“What do you mean I have to make a choice?”
“Perhaps ‘choice’ is the wrong word,” Mother Talzin corrects. “You’re going to make a deal .”
“A deal? What kind of deal?”
“A deal that concerns life and death. A deal that concerns him .”
“Me?” Anakin asks.
“I’m not playing your games,” Obi-Wan growls.
“Oh, this is no game, unless you consider life and death and the destruction of the galaxy to be a game.”
Mother Talzin is being more cryptic than usual. And more cruel.
“What are you talking about?” Obi-Wan asks. “What do you want?”
“I want you to make the right choice. He won’t,” Mother Talzin nods to Anakin. “But I know you will. But I have to show you something I believe you will find, enlightening. ”
Obi-Wan glances over at Anakin. His face has grown paler as the blood continues to drain out of him.
“Fine,” Obi-Wan says. “Do whatever it is you are planning, just heal him.”
Mother Talzin says nothing. She stalks between the two slabs that host Anakin and Obi-Wan and she rests her fingertips on Obi-Wan’s forehead.
And she shows him what is to come.
Mother Talzin knows how to turn any man into a desperate one.
It’s not difficult. Men are easy to manipulate, especially once they are made weakened or afraid.
Once this inferior male sees what is to come and makes his choice, Mother Talzin will perform the spell. It’s a difficult one. One that takes great skill and an even greater cost to enact, but it will work.
It has to.
The galaxy depends on it.