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Obi-Wan Kenobi took each step with care, for he didn’t know what he was getting himself into. He could not ignore the screams that had rippled through the force mere moments ago, however. Cautiously, he opened the door to a luxurious apartment that was every bit as extravagant on the inside. The sight on the other side was none he could ever have possibly fathomed. Four bodies lay scattered across the room, bruises scouring what was visible of their lifeless bodies. The Jedi master had seldom seen such gruesome brutalization before. Two of the bodies were older, one male and the other female. The woman's head was twisted at an unnatural angle. The last two bodies were much smaller and by his guess, the children of the aforementioned adults. Two young girls with blonde hair, dressed in frilly, bright tunics. Far too young to be as brutalized as they were.
Stood in the middle of the room was the lithe frame of what appeared to be a young boy, not possibly older than 12 standard galactic years. His wavy black hair was in utter disarray and long enough to cover his ears. His hands lay at his side, clenched into tight fists. Obi-Wan stepped back when the young lad turned around to face him. His face was freakishly pale, which combined with his strong jawline and sunken cheeks, strengthened the crazed look in his golden eyes. Those eyes were a burning fury of yellow ringed with orange, an anger lacing into them so fiercely it seemed inhumane. The force around the boy felt so tainted, so wrong, that the Jedi Master had to suppress a shiver.
And then, it was gone.
In but an instant, all the hate and the anger withdrew from the boy and flew away into the force, purposefully, as if it had somewhere else to be. His eyes dimmed, replaced by a dark sea green. His entire being shifted as he dropped to his knees. His hands flopped to the ground, and his head remained level with the wall in front of him. Never once did his eyes stray to another destination, as if they were locked there, unwilling to set themselves upon the scene around them. The degree of anguish and sadness that washed over Obi-Wan in that moment sent him reeling. It was so intense; so incredibly raw.
Slowly, Obi-Wan made his way towards the boy, never once taking his eyes off the child. Once close enough, Obi-Wan lowered himself onto his knees, till he was relatively at eye level with the boy. Despite Obi-Wan being in his direct line of vision, the boy's eyes remained fuzzy and unfocused, as if he wasn’t truly there, seeing through Obi-Wan. The Jedi master sent small, barely noticeable, calming waves through the force so that the boy would not notice.
Obi-Wan disregarded the passage of time as he knelt and meditated, every so often sending stronger waves of peace and calm to the boy. But no matter what, the boy remained void of anything besides heartwrenching anguish, as if the boy had yet to comprehend or accept what had happened fully.
“I didn’t want to do it.” A small voice rasped. Obi-Wan masked any outward response on his face, but he was surprised to hear the child speak. Despite the boy's words, Obi-Wan remained quiet due to the lack of a question being asked. He could also sense that the child had more to say.
“I had no choice.” His voice cracked at the end, so much emotion pouring into that one word.
“The voice…It wanted me to do it.”
Want, not made.
“What did it want?” Kenobi asked so incredibly softly that he could hardly hear his own words.
“To hurt them.”
“Did it say why?”
“Because then It would go away. It promised…”
“Do you still hear the voice now?” Kenobi asked.
“Whispers. Assurances.” The boy replied monotonously in a daze.
“Assurances of what?”
“That it was right, that I-” He stopped, his eyes re-focusing on his surroundings. The boy finally focused on Kenobi, but it was quick, for his eyes hardened as they slowly made their way over the room. His eyes lingered on his father when they landed on him.
“It said if my father was dead, I could be what I-”, more anger, “what it wanted me to be.”
As soon as it came, the anger was gone, as if the boy had no strength left to hold onto it—like a wave receding into the ocean, leaving nothing in its wake. Obi-Wan glanced at the boy’s father, his eyes narrowing slightly as realization dawned on him. Though he couldn’t recall his name, Obi-Wan remembered the man was a well-esteemed senator. One who had been voting for the Jedi’s greater involvement within the Republic, particularly when it came to the senate and political matters.
“What’s your name, young one?” Kenobi asked slowly.
“Perseus.” His response was immediate, rehearsed even by the tone. He had no doubt Perseus had done so often with his parentage. There was an echo of dissatisfaction in the force along with the recital.
“I am Obi-Wan.”
The darkness came rushing back, thick tendrils wrapping around the boy violently, taking hold of everything. Perseus' eyes flickered gold before he cried out in pain and doubled over. Obi-Wan reacted instantly, diving into the force to take hold of the darkness surrounding the boy. The darkness was incredibly strong but wrong—forced.
Obi-Wan assaulted the tendrils tirelessly with the force, pushing them further and further from the boy's mind, till it relented in retreat. Damage was left in its wake. The boy sobbed as Obi-Wan tried to repair what damage he could, as well as place shields around the boy's mind in the hopes of preventing another attack.
Someone was controlling him. Facilitating anger within his mind so they themselves may bury deep within it to enact their will. In a sense, it was control, but it was far more complicated than that. Obi-Wan had read ancient texts from the restricted sections of the archives of such a thing. It took immense power, and could only be done through the power of the dark side. It was far more than mere manipulation; no, it was suffocating one into submission.
“It-it’s gone.” The boy hiccuped.
“It has retreated from your mind,” he hesitated. “For the time being.”
The boy looked frantically at Obi-Wan, emotion colouring his face. Yet, it was not quite fear, like he expected it would be.
“It will come back.” The boy stated as he stole a glance at one of his younger sisters.
“It is most likely,” Obi-Wan replied softly. Perseus looked down, staring at his shaking hands.
“Everytime It leaves, I think—Gods, I’m so stupid—I think it will stay that way and then…then it comes back. It always does." Perseus' eyes clench furiously shut, as if in pain. "How do I stop it?” He whispered.
The Jedi master was brought to a crossroads. In his mind, he had two real options: bring the boy back with him to the Jedi Temple to stand before the Council, which could have various outcomes. Or, leave him here to the mercy of the Coruscant police force, and hope his attacker would not return. Although the choice seemed obvious, it was not so simple. It could be dangerous to bring the boy back to the temple. Dangerous, as in his fate may be the same as it would be if he were to be left here. There is no saying what the council would do with the boy. Obi-Wan himself didn’t even know what he should do! The council may place shields around the boy's mind, a short-term solution, but afterwards, he’d be taken back to...no one. What would happen to the boy? It is not as if he had a family to go back to anymore. There in itself was the other problem; the council may set aside the manipulation and only address the boy based on what they would foresee as a heinous crime. To what extent would they believe Obi-Wan’s word of what he sensed? The boy didn’t intentionally kill his family. The choice was in no way his. If the council were to ‘help’ the boy, then send him off to another family or some orphanage, what would become of him? He is strong with the force, that much is certain. And some dark side wielder has set their sights on the boy. Obi-Wan is hesitant to even suggest just any dark side practitioner. No, this is the work of someone far more powerful, someone truly evil. Could it be that the Sith they are looking for—Dooku’s master—is responsible for this?
Another possible solution arose in Kenobi’s mind, quieting any other thought. Yet, it would not be possible. The Council would in no way, regardless of the circumstances, agree to train a boy who was likely no younger than 12. Anakin was 8 when he’d been brought before the council, and he’d only been accepted into the order because Obi-Wan had been stubborn enough to refuse that he not become his padawan to fulfill Qui-Gon’s dying wish. Anakin’s possible stature as the chosen one helped and harmed that outcome in equal measure. This boy was no doubt strong, but as strong as Anakin? It didn’t even matter how strong he was; he was 12, four years older than Anakin was. It was in no way a possibility. But, perhaps, Obi-Wan did not need to sell it as accepting Perseus into the order, but rather providing him with the fundamental tools to ensure his mind remains his own. Perseus need not become a Padawan at all. Surely the Council could not discredit the importance of ensuring a force-sensitive child did not fall into the hands of the Sith?
“You can come with me to the Jedi Temple.” Obi-Wan finally said.
“But I’m not a Jedi.” Perseus replied.
“No, but you are strong with the force, Perseus.” Obi-Wan admitted to the boy. “I cannot say for certain what your fate will be, but it may be far more preferable than what could become of you if I leave you here.”
Perseus gave Obi-Wan an innocent, questioning look, making his youth all the more painfully clear.
“If I leave you here, there is no saying if that voice will come back. You are young, therefore easily open to manipulation of the dark side; one such as yourself should not be corrupted by something so vile. The death of your family will become known sooner or later, as well. The Coruscanti police are not likely to understand or care for the manipulations of a dark sider in causing their deaths. The Jedi can help to ensure you are not wrongfully punished for what happened.” Kenobi stated, growing confident in his decision. The boy’s gaze remained fixated on the older man for a while before he spoke his mind.
“But I,” Perseus cuts himself off, scoffing sardonically and throwing his hands out as his emotions rise like a tidal wave, “I murdered my family! Surely not even the Jedi would be so forgiving.”
“Perhaps.” Obi-Wan admitted softly. “But you are young and were not yourself when you did so.”
“I-” Perseus cut himself off, deflating, the wave receding. Obi-Wan carefully placed a gentle hand on the boy's bony shoulder in an attempt to provide some modicum of comfort.
“I do not know what your future may hold, Perseus. But what I do know is that I will not let that voice harm you again.” Obi-Wan stated firmly, looking deep into Perseus’ eyes to make his point well known.
“Why?” The boy asked pleadingly. “I’ve done nothing to deserve such a thing.”
Kenobi remained silent, the question raising a thought that he himself had been thinking since he found the boy; he did not know the boy. He’s only just met him by happenstance. But it felt wrong to leave him to the Mercy of Coruscanti police who could never understand the intricacies of the force. Something within Obi-Wan compelled him to help this boy, regardless of what could come of it.
Kenobi simply smiled his dazzling ‘The Negotiator’ smile in response, resulting in a raised, unimpressed eyebrow from the boy.
“Why don’t you grab a few of your belongings and clean yourself up. We can leave for the Temple after that.” Kenobi stated while he stretched his stiff limbs as he stood from the ground. He reached out a hand for the boy to take, which Perseus took cautiously. Kenobi acknowledged his discomfort by placing both of his hands on the boy's shoulders and squeezing softly.
“You have no reason to trust me, and I understand that this entire situation may seem impossible to comprehend. But, I will help you, regardless of what the Jedi Council says.” Kenobi assured him assertively. Perseus looked with teary eyes into Kenobi’s, uncertainty clear upon his features.
“Thank you.” He muttered before ramming into Kenobi with a fierce hug. His small arms latched around Kenobi’s torso, as his head buried itself underneath the Jedi’s arm. Slowly— unsurely—Kenobi returned the hug. He had shared embraces such as this with Anakin often in his younger years, but this was different, somehow. With Anakin, it had felt like his responsibility to comfort the boy who had grown up a slave, unused to gentle touches that didn’t intend to harm his person. He’d done it out of respect for Qui-Gon and because it was part of his duty as a Master to their Padawan. By the time he got around to truly caring for Anakin in his own right, Anakin had been far too old to seek out something as trivial as a hug, and their dynamic had changed greatly. Now, Anakin was like a brother to Obi-Wan.
But this felt natural in a way that had taken Obi-Wan a long time to reach with Anakin. Perhaps Anakin had helped Obi-Wan learn to accept his emotions more readily. Right now, the emotions rising in Obi-Wan are ones he’d never thought he’d come to experience as a Jedi. He finds himself easily accepting them for what they are, allowing himself to just feel and, as Qui-Gon used to say, be present in the living force. No matter what happens, Obi-Wan will stay in the here and now and take things one step at a time. It's all he can do.