Work Text:
Anakin folds his hands within the sleeves of his robe and bows deeply with Obi Wan to the senator who has just Requested his master. He’d chafed under the many unwieldy layers when he was first brought to the temple, but he can see the sense in it now.
On Tatooine he and the others had fought to retain every scrap of individuality. They didn’t want to be one of the nameless masses that died and dried out on the sands. They were people with names and personalities and lives. They wanted to be remembered, if even just among the whispers of those they left behind.
Watto hadn’t been a bad Master, but that certainly didn’t make him a good one either. As much as Anakin loved pod racing—and as determined as he had always been to win—Ani always knew he wasn’t meant to. He was just another piece in all of Watto’s many cons. Find some newcomer down on their luck, convince them that he really could win, get them to bet on him against Watto, and then lose. Anakin hadn’t been supposed to win, and he wasn’t supposed to be free.
So, he supposes, he can’t be too upset that he’s not.
The slavery on Coruscant is different from the threat of a bomb he grew up under. It’s more insidious. Everyone pretends that they are free but always there is something held over them. Food, water, atmosphere—everything is bought with their bodies and their talents.
Back on Tatooine, when he had been young and one or two of the older children had watched over them and their parents and aunts and uncles and older siblings and cousins slipped into the Masters’ beds to keep them feeling benevolent, he had listened to stories of the Jedi. He hadn’t understood then. He hadn’t felt the pulsing breath of the universe at his fingertips and been unable to wield that power to protect his family. He had been young and his grasp of the Force hadn’t yet extended beyond the planet. He’d thought maybe the Jedi just didn’t know about them yet.
He hadn’t known that it didn’t matter.
Anakin had been only one of many Force sensitive slave children on Tatooine and he had begged Qui Gon to free them too. Now he is glad that his friends were left behind. They, at least, can still dream.
Obi Wan returns to his side soon enough; Presence raw and aching in the Force. There are no outward bruises, only a tenseness in the muscles of his jaw. It’s his second Request of the night and Anakin is sure there will be more.
He presses his shoulder against his master’s. Attachment is forbidden by the temple, too scared of encouraging the illicit tastes of senators by presenting pairings, but there is nothing against standing next to your master or padawan. Outside of the Requests, Jedi are expected to find solace in their community. They’re supposed to share the burden equally so that it becomes lighter.
There’s a small chiding from his master in the Force that lets him know he’s toeing the line, but Obi Wan’s shoulders relax just a hair. Despite everything, the folds of his robes are still neat enough they look pressed down into pin straight creases.
Over his year at the Temple Anakin has learned that there is safety among the many. Many layers can serve as a shield. Likewise, they are one Jedi pair among many. In every aspect of their lives there are many individual parts making up a whole. There is nothing to say that they must wear the temple robes, or find rest among the others, it is simply discouraged for the younglings and padawans to become too creative.
There are many among the older members of the order who wear clothing similar to their home world’s culture. Even Anakin was allowed to continue wearing the Japor snippets his mother carved for him after his acceptance. He had worn them faithfully at first but he’d removed most of them after the first time a Senator had noticed them and asked his heritage.
Ze had hooked one of zir six slender fingers under his necklace of protective beads and commented on how pretty it made him look. Zir lower two eyestalks had scanned his body while the last had stayed focused on his lips. Obi-Wan had approached just as the Gran was asking how old Anakin was—no matter that he had clearly been little older than a youngling.
Anakin had shed everything from his old world after that. Now he only keeps one snippet tied around his ankle, beneath his many layers of fabric armor. Being one in a sea of sameness is protection.
Being one who stands out in a sea of sameness is vulnerability.
He forces a deep breath, knowing that his master will be looking for any excuse to shut down this outing. That means he can’t give one, even if he wants to be so incredibly angry. Normally they don’t let the padawans anywhere near these events, so he has to tread carefully before he loses the ability to even be near. “I wish you would let me help, master.”
Obi Wan’s Force Presence trembles beside him, but it does not sway or falter. His thoughtful hum isn’t dismissive, but infuriatingly neither does he agree. “I understand, Ani, but you must think of the other padawans.”
“I see no reason for us not to share in the burdens.” Anakin dips his head to another senator, holding his breath until they have passed and he is sure they have not come for Obi Wan. “There are ten of us here and only five to share the attentions of many more than that. You have already been Requested twice and we have been here barely two hours.”
There’s a wobble in Obi Wan’s emotions, a rush of grief that turns placid. He merely shakes his head and does the Force equivalent of resting his hand on Anakin’s forearm in a plea to wait. Around them, from across the room, Force Presences bolster them both with brief flashes of favorite moments.
In Emotion there is Peace.
The thought is bitter but only for a moment as Anakin releases it to the Force and reaches back out to the others. With one knight he shares his first memory of the fountains, to another he presses the joy of watching a crechling learn to walk. One by one he brushes past the Presences of the others until he comes across the last.
He doesn’t know their name, but he does his best to soothe them all the same as their body is stolen from them. His Presence blends with the rest of the others as they curl protectively around the knight until the ordeal is over.
Then Anakin withdraws and swallows hard against the bile in his stomach. When he was younger, he’d wondered what the slave quarters would be like if everyone could feel all that he did.
Learning the answer has been excruciating.
The Chancellor approaches as Obi Wan leaves with another Request and Anakin has to force a smile for him. The man has always been more than kind to him, slipping him treats and Rewards that Anakin has not had to earn, but he’s always on edge when his master leaves.
He knows his interactions with The Chancellor make Obi Wan nervous. He wishes his master would trust him more. If the Chancellor is going to request him the second that he’s Knighted, then nothing is going to stop it. Holding himself just out of the man’s reach will do nothing but make himself all the more alluring. So, until he’s knighted, Anakin sees no harm in letting himself be groomed and petted like a favored dog if it will fill the temple’s pantries with choice delicacies and their reserves with credit.
Obi Wan is a good Jedi, but the problem with being a good Jedi is that it does not make one a good slave. They are too concerned with the good of everyone to be truly conniving. The good of The Republic at the cost of themselves has been the price they’ve paid for generations.
It’s alright though.
They claim that Anakin is the one to bring balance, and he’s pretty sure that starts with him prying the cold fingers of The Republic out of his temple’s heart.
“Are you enjoying the festivities, Chancellor?” Anakin’s bow is slightly lower than is due as he shoots The Chancellor a cheeky smile.
The Chancellor’s laugh is kind and his Presence flares with the muted warmth of a friendly non-sensitive. He always responds well to Anakin’s calculated impertinence—never enough to insult and just enough to imply a reciprocated friendship. “Indeed I am, my boy. Are you?”
“Indeed.” Anakin echoes as he swallows down his initial response with the bile that rises. He doesn’t manage to completely stifle his grimace, but that seems equally endearing to The Chancellor.
Thankfully, Anakin’s too-large sleeves of his robes are perfect for hiding the tremor of his hands as he crosses his arms inside them—yet another Jedi mannerism that he didn’t appreciate at first. “The Senate has been too kind in their generosity. I am certain the crechelings will greatly enjoy the renovations.”
“I’m sure they will. I look forward to hearing all about it.” The Chancellor rests his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “I am surprised to see you. It is not often that your master allows you in public.”
There’s something about his grip that has Anakin’s stomach twisting. It’s not groping and it doesn’t squeeze too tight. Actually, it could be described as fatherly; comforting maybe. Yet, the firm press of a thumb into the hollow near his collarbone calls back to the possessive grip of Watto as he’d been presented as collateral in another bet on Tatooine.
Still, he endures as he always has before with a lowered gaze and an impish smile. “Master Obi-Wan has always been protective of any padawan in his charge. Unfortunately, as he’s my master, that’s usually me.”
“Indeed.” The Chancellor murmurs again as his hand slides free. His expression is sympathetic. There’s nothing lecherous; only concern that deepens his growing number of wrinkles . “I am afraid he is likely to stifle your talent with how tightly he holds.”
Agreement bubbles up his throat instinctively, but Anakin wrangles it back down as he considers it. Impulse control has never been his best trait and, even with a second consideration, he still agrees with Chancellor Palpatine. But… It's difficult to malign his master when he can feel Obi-Wan’s panicked struggle for air as the Request finishes. Anakin picks at a loose thread on the inside of his sleeve and glances away. “Obi-Wan believes that talent is gained only through the honing of skill. Brute utility of raw power is easily lost but training remains always.”
“As is to be expected,” Chancellor Palpatine’s warm rumble says admiration and implies derision in the aftertaste, “wise advice from a wise Jedi.”
Anakin hums in agreement, attention catching on a snag Obi-Wan’s shield. He patches it over with the soft wonder of warm showers and cool sheets. Absently, as he smears memories over crumbling Force shields, Anakin says, “We strive always to better ourselves in service of The Senate.”
“Speaking of The Senate, we have need for your aid.” The Chancellor turns to face him fully.
It catches Anakin’s attention in a way that has him on high alert and draws additional notice from the other Force sensitives in the room. He soothes the Jedi back down, sending them flashes of safety, as he bows to hide the way he studies The Chancellor. It works for the others but Anakin can feel his master start to run. He sends another wave of assurance to Obi-Wan as he answers. “If it is within my ability, I would see it done.”
“We wish to encourage further cooperation with the Jedi through a series of internships.” The Chancellor glances up as Obi-Wan rejoins them at a slowing trot. The Naboo man smiles and inclines his head. “Jedi master Kenobi, it is wonderful to see you well.”
Privately, Anakin thinks that Obi-Wan’s Presence feels ill and wane, but he supposes that those only relying on sight wouldn’t be able to tell.
“I am glad to see you, Chancellor. We wish to thank you for your generous donation.” Obi Wan bows gracefully, not a hair out of place. There’s nothing to show his recent use or panic,
Anakin steps back into place beside his master and lets his Presence meld with Obi-Wan along the edges. It’s soothing for them both, though he tries to project more comfort than he takes. “Master, The Chancellor believes I may be of use to the Senate.”
“That is kind of The Chancellor,” Obi Wan dips his head in ingratiating obeisance and his Presence screams peace just a little louder, “but I am afraid Anakin is too young to serve the senate alone.”
“A shame.” The Chancellor drawls, his aura dimming just a hair more than usual. His eyes trail across Anakin’s body without lust or anger. “I had hoped that with more exposure to padawans, it would create a familiarity that discouraged much of the… unpleasantness at these events.”
Hesitation coats Anakin’s master so thick that he’s pretty sure even a non-sensitive could feel it. Their fellow temple members certainly do but no one moves outwardly.
Obi Wan reaches up to tug on a braid that’s no longer there before aborting the movement to tuck his hands back into his sleeves. “Your compassion for us is appreciated, Chancellor. The Jedi consider you among our greatest allies. I will bring your offer before the Council. Perhaps… an exception can be made.”
Which meant that Anakin is probably going to be traded part time to The Chancellor whether anyone wants him to be or not. A chance to reduce Requests is one the Jedi will always have to take regardless of how likely it is to succeed.
Anakin had been won and lost in enough games of chance to know that desperation always brought back the gambler eventually.
“I appreciate it, master Jedi.” The Chancellor bows his head in a dip so shallow that Anakin might think it mockery if it wasn’t Palpatine. His smile is warm and genuine. His hands are papery thin as he presses candied fruits into theirs. “You have always served the republic admirably.”
“Your flattery is excessive but appreciated nonetheless, Chancellor.” Obi Wan smiles and it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It is kind of you to think of us among your other duties.”
“Nonsense.” The Chancellor says but his body language and Presence is pleased. “We on Naboo, and indeed the Republic st large, owe you a debt for your aid and I intend to see it through. Thank you for sparing the time to talk to an old man tonight.”
Obi Wan bows again and this time Anakin bows with him. They don’t straighten until The Chancellor has moved on. Without a change to his mild expression, Obi Wan glances sidelong at Anakin and says, “Must you always?”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t be left alone to amuse myself, master.” Anakin says airily, his Presence swirling around Obi Wan’s in teasing tangles. He’s careful to avoid mentioning the reasons he’s left alone.
Obi Wan ruffles his Presence across Anakin’s in the Force equivalent of playful roughhousing. “Forgive me, I had thought you further in your training.”
“The greatest teacher, failure is.” Anakin intones solemnly. “I am certain you will not make the mistake again, master.”
Outwardly, Obi wan merely gives a passive hum as his eyes scan the crowd. In the Force he gives Anakin an impressive shove.
It earns them ripples of amusement through the nearby Force users. One of the masters catches Anakin before he can outwardly react to the betrayal and brushes him off with a teasing air.
It’s a moment of levity they all sorely need.
No sooner than they breathe but another senator is heading towards Anakin and his master once more and grief bleeds back into the Force. Other senators are approaching the rest of the Jed in unison—as though this is a planned attack.
Anakin focuses on his breathing so he doesn’t steal the oxygen from the air and suffocate the party goers. There are similar feelings rising up around each of the padawans.
The senator looks Obi Wan up and down the way they always do. Their Presence is better shielded than most non-sensitive but not well enough that Anakin can’t taste the grief that clings to them—or the distinct lack of lust.
“I…” it’s clear based on the way the senator stumbles over the words that this is their first time, “I Request you, master Jedi.”
Obi Wan licks his lower lip and peers up through his lashes. It’s a move that Anakin taught him after realizing that his master was absolutely terrible at foreplay. The Jedi’s hand reaches up to tug at a braid no longer there, drawing attention to how very young he looks; barely out of his padawancy he seems to say.
Anakin has, if he says so himself, done a very good job at teaching his master to play a virginal ingenue.
To both of their surprise the senator’s Presence recoils from them in heaving retches. Sickness threads through his aura before retreating to be replaced with resolve.
It's an intriguing response. Anakin does the Force equivalent of a sidelong glance to his master and receives a Force shrug in return.
Obi Wan keeps his voice breathy. “Where would you like me?”
That seems to break the senator out of whatever thoughts have taken over. “We have a room. Follow me.”
Anakin’s heart sinks as he realizes his master has been Requested by more than one.
“Oh. Of course.” Obi Wan plays off his hesitation well at least. He manages to disguise the fear as inexperience. “It’s only, how far is it, sir?”
“Far?” The senator blinks down at Obi Wan, seemingly startled by the question. Perhaps he didn’t think Jedi had minds of their own.
Tremors ripple through Obi Wan’s Presence. Anakin can feel his reluctance to draw the senator’s attention to Anakin warring with the desire to make sure none of the padawans are left alone at the festivities to be taken advantage of. “My padawan is still very young and—“
“Padawan aren’t allowed at these events.” The Senator says with all the naive certainty a freeborn can have. For the first time he glances away from Obi Wan to examine Anakin. His facial hair obscures any minute change in expression as his gaze locks onto Anakin’s padawan braid, but it can’t hide the way he swells with sudden rage in the Force. “It’s illegal.”
“It is illegal to Request a padawan,” Anakin says a touch too sharply and bows to make up for it. Obi Wan had paid dearly for that law only for the lapti dopa-maskey wermos to continue to skirt around it and force padawans into more public appearances now that ‘there was no danger’, “but there are no laws saying you cannot look.”
Obi Wan stings him through the Force in retribution, desperate for Anakin not to make the senator Requesting him any angrier than he already would be at Obi Wan’s defiance. Desperate to keep Anakin from becoming the target.
Anakin doesn’t think that he is going to be a target though. The senator isn’t doing great at keeping his emotions shielded, even for a non-sensitive. It’s safe to say that he doesn’t find children attractive.
Of course, that doesn’t mean he won’t hit them.
“Your padawan can wait outside the room.” The senator finally says. He’s a skilled politician if he can appear so unmoved by his screaming thoughts. “I don’t expect to return you to the festivities.”
Anakin and Obi Wan bow in acquiescence because there’s nothing else to do. Then they follow the man down the opulent hallways. Even with the aid of the Force, Anakin finds it hard to keep a proper map of the many embassies in his head. They’re far too large and sprawling with identical hallways and teeming masses of slimy Presences.
It’s not until they draw even with another group that Anakin realizes that other Jedi have been Requested and brought here with their padawans. Obi Wan’s Presence goes still as the eye of a sandstorm; surrounded by all the danger that implies. He places himself between Anakin and the senator without trying to be subtle. The other jedi knight, Tosan, subtly shifts into a position better suited for defense.
The senator that Requested opens the door and gestures everyone in, seemingly oblivious. From what Anakin can see it’s just a regular room for use by the senate’s better paid staff. Pretty fabric on plush furniture has him longing for escape so they can all just sleep. There are already Jedi with their padawans within. Anakin can’t see other senators, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t coming.
Obi Wan shares a glance with Tosan and she shrugs, ears folded back. She can’t sense anything wrong in the Force either.
When no one moves to follow them, the senator winces. “My apologies. If you would join us inside, I will explain everything.”
Obi Wan bows before gesturing Anakin forward and they obey.
The other senator doesn’t follow Tosan and her padawan, but Obi Wan’s Requestor steps in. He shuts the door before turning to the room. Everyone is inside already, it would appear that they were the last of the Jedi to arrive.
The senator bows to the room, grief in their Presence. “I am Senator Bail Organa and this room is yours until the morning.”
“Senator?” One of the padawans, a young kiffar boy, asks. His red tattoos distort with confusion as he glances between his master and Senator Organa.
“I am one of many on the Senate who oppose the Requests. Though we are unable to as of yet to abolish them, I hope this can provide you with peace nonetheless.” Senator Organa’s Presence rings clear in the Force. He isn’t lying. “It isn’t nearly enough but no one will disturb you. You have been Requested to spend the rest of the night resting.”
“You will not make use of us?” Obi Wan eyes the Senator with clear suspicion. His Presence recognizes the Senator only vaguely.
Pain, clear and deep, flashes across the Senator’s expression. “We will not. For too long we have stepped aside and watched because we cannot abolish the system entirely. You may lock the rooms without fear of reprisal. The credits in the drawers are yours to spend as you see fit.”
When no one says anything else, Bail Organa bows again—much deeper than any freeborn ought to bow to a Jedi—and then leaves.
Anakin rushes to lock the system when no one makes a move afterward. The code he runs is far too complicated for most people to untangle and nearly impossible for even a skilled slicer to do so without giving them warning. When he turns back to the room, everyone seems unsure of what to do.
Obi Wan is the one to take charge, because of course Anakin’s master is. He organizes the turns for the fresher before turning to the small kitchenette and starting tea. Under his instructions the other Jedi slowly settle into the room for the night.
After checking on the other padawans, because he knows it’s what his master wants, Anakin tucks himself against Obi Wan’s side. “Master?”
“Luck is not stumbled upon but seized.” His master replies, ever the dutiful jedi master. Obi Wan was always ready to turn the smallest things into a lesson. “We have no way of knowing the senator’s intentions but we can take advantage of this reprieve. What does the code say about truth?”
“Truth is dependent upon our point of view.”
“Precisely, my padawan.” Obi Wan sets cups into Anakin’s hands and gestures for him to take them to the others. “Whether the Senators mean to help or to harm is irrelevant. We will be better served by trusting in them tonight.”
Anakin hesitates but doesn’t push further. His master feels fragile in the Force and if serving the others will help him, then Anakin will do it. He nudges against Obi Wan in the force before bringing tea over to those already settling in for an impromptu meditation.
Obi Wan is right. They need to take advantage of every break they can get.
When he was on Tatooine he used to dream of becoming a Jedi and freeing the slaves. He’d been angry when he realized the Jedi wouldn’t be freeing anyone but perhaps he just needs to change the way he’s thinking about it. The Council does believe he’s going to change the Force.
He is going to save the slaves on Tatooine just like in his dreams. He’s just going to have to free the Jedi first.