Chapter Text
“I will train him, then. I take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan Learner,” Qui-Gon Jinn announced to the council, who had just rejected the young boy at his side for the position of a youngling in the Temple. Young Anakin looked up at him with appreciation in his teary eyes, clinging to him.
The council members all exchanged worried looks before turning back to face the Master and young Skywalker.
“Master Jinn,” began Master Ki-Adi Mundi, “with all due respect, it hasn’t even been that long since your last Padawan… well, we all know the end of that.”
Little Anakin cocked his head and gave Qui-Gon a confused look, a question clearly etched on his face. He’d had another Padawan?
Qui-Gon nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, I received an invitation to the wedding,” he said simply, much to the seeming displeasure of the Masters around him.
“Precisely,” said Master Windu.
“If I may,” piped up Master Shaak Ti, “Obi-Wan choosing to leave us was his own decision, and I do not think it is wise, nor do I think it is fair, to ascribe his personal choices to any failings of Qui-Gon’s mentorship.”
Qui-Gon held his tongue. He glanced back at the child next to him, whom he could surmise was forming a million questions a second. He flashed him a look that said All will be explained in due time, which the boy seemed to tentatively accept for now.
“Struggled with the teachings, young Kenobi always did. Very headstrong,” Master Yoda added sagely. “Full of many doubts and insecurities he was before being sent to Qui-Gon on my recommendation. Unfortunate. But perhaps the will of the Force.”
Mace Windu sat back in his seat, still not fully satisfied. “Now is not the time for this… the Senate is voting for a new Supreme Chancellor, and Queen Amidala is returning home, which will put pressure on the Federation and could widen the confrontation.”
Mundi nodded in agreement. “And draw out the Queen’s attacker. Events are moving too fast for distractions such as this.”
Mace continued, “Go with the Queen to Naboo and discover the identity of the dark warrior. This is the clue we need to unravel the mystery of the Sith.”
Yoda sighed, clearly still pondering the idea. “Young Skywalker’s fate will be decided later.”
Anakin seemed quite unsatisfied with this outcome. Clearly, the boy had been one of those children who figured out at an early age that when a parent says “maybe” or “later,” it means not ever. Qui-Gon placed a hand on his shoulder.
This boy was the Chosen One. He was sure of it. For all their talk of fear being the path to destruction, he could see that they were all being cowards by refusing to accept the boy because of his unfortunate beginnings. He would train him no matter what.
“I brought Anakin here; he must stay in my charge. He has nowhere else to go,” he argued.
“He is your ward, Qui-Gon. We will not dispute that,” Windu said with a groan, rubbing his temple with one hand.
Yoda piped up, “But train him not. Take him with you, but train him not!”
Qui-Gon bristled slightly. He had hoped Yoda would be wise enough to be more on his side.
Mace carried on. “Protect the Queen, but do not intercede if it comes to war until we have the Senate’s approval.”
Yoda hummed and sent them off with a simple, “May the Force be with you.”
Qui-Gon bowed, and Anakin must have been a quick learner because he immediately snapped to attention and bowed as well when he noticed Qui-Gon doing so. The two made their way back to their spacecraft.
Anakin seemed to take their being alone as the cue that now was the time to begin asking his many questions.
“What do they mean you had another Padawan? Who is he? Where did he go? Did he do something bad? They seemed to not like him a whole lot.”
Qui-Gon listened to all his questions patiently before responding.
“Yes, I did. It’s not uncommon for a Jedi to take on multiple Padawans over their lives. Before you was Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was… troubled when he was a youngling. Hot-headed and lacking in focus. It is a long story, but in the end, I gave him a chance when I saw he could be a good Padawan.”
Anakin listened, enraptured. “And was he?”
“Oh yes, in many ways he was. He had a rebellious nature, but he had a good heart. He had some things to learn about the Living Force, but I think, in a better timeline, he may have surpassed me as a Jedi in time,” he recalled fondly. “We didn’t… always have harmony between the two of us. Perhaps I wasn’t the kind of Master he needed… but nonetheless, I would be remiss to say there wasn’t any affection between us.”
“So where is he now?” the young boy asked. “You said something about a wedding invitation.”
Qui-Gon inhaled sharply. “Therein lies the problem, Anakin… Jedi are not allowed to do such things.”
Anakin’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “You can’t get married?!”
Qui-Gon nodded. “Yes, the Jedi Code forbids… attachments. How can we serve the many if we are more attached to the few? We’re meant to love the world, Anakin, so to choose a few people… well, that’s what the Council says, anyway.”
Anakin looked a little put down by this, as expected considering that he had just made a declaration that he intended to marry the Queen of Naboo.
“Well, what do you say then?” he asked.
“Well, personally, I… think there is nothing wrong with it. I mean, look at Master Mundi.”
Anakin cocked his head. “The one with the big head?”
There are moments, as a teacher, when a student says something wholly inappropriate, and every instinct insists you correct them with all the dignity your position demands. The only problem is that it is also undeniably funny. For Qui-Gon, this was one of those moments
“That’s rather mean, Anakin. His species is born like that.”
“I wasn’t talking about how it looks.”
And at that, Qui-Gon’s resolve not to laugh was broken, and he let out a deep laugh. When he finally recovered, he continued, “But yes, Master Ki-Adi Mundi actually has five wives.”
“What?!” Anakin said in outrage. “That’s a… a double standard! How come he can have five but Obi-Wan isn’t allowed to have even one?!”
Qui-Gon nodded. “I see you’re wise for your age.”
Anakin preened at the compliment.
“Yes, Obi-Wan thought so too. That’s why he left.”
“And what did you say?” Anakin asked
“…I told him to follow the will of the Living Force.” Qui-Gon replied.
“What the heck is that?”
Qui-Gon smiled slightly at the boy’s bluntness. “It is… difficult to explain, even for many Jedi.”
Anakin tilted his head. “That doesn’t sound like a very good explanation.”
A quiet chuckle escaped Qui-Gon. “No, perhaps it does not. The Living Force is the Force as it exists around us in every moment. It is the life that surrounds us, the energy that connects all living things. The currents of the universe that guide us, if we are willing to listen.”
“So… it’s like a voice?”
“Not exactly,” Qui-Gon replied. “It does not speak with words. It is more like a feeling. A knowing. A moment when you stop trying to force the universe to give you the answer you want and instead allow yourself to see the answer that is already there.”
Anakin frowned, clearly trying to make sense of it. “So you just… guess?”
Qui-Gon smiled. “No, Anakin. A guess comes from uncertainty. The Living Force comes from trust.”
“Trust in what?”
“That the Force sees things we cannot. That sometimes the path before us is not the one we would have chosen, but it is the one we are meant to walk.”
Anakin was quiet for a moment before looking back at him. “And that’s what you told Obi-Wan? To just trust the Force?”
Qui-Gon’s expression softened. “Yes.”
“Did he like that answer?”
Qui-Gon sighed, a hint of sadness crossing his face. “Obi-Wan was very good at following the will of the Force… but he was also very good at questioning whether he was truly hearing it. He wanted certainty. He wanted to know that he was making the right choice.”
“And you didn’t tell him?”
Qui-Gon looked ahead, thoughtful. “No. Perhaps I should have told him that sometimes the hardest part of following the Force is accepting that there may never be certainty. Only faith.”
Anakin considered this, then shrugged. “Sounds complicated.”
Qui-Gon smiled faintly. “It is.”
“Jedi are weird.”
“That,” Qui-Gon admitted, “is something I have heard before.”
“And you told him that… even though it meant he would leave you and he wouldn’t get to be a Jedi anymore?”
“Indeed. It was a lovely ceremony. I believe he is at peace with his decision so I am as well.”
Anakin pondered for a moment. “If he’s not a Jedi anymore then what is he?”
“Hmmm, I believe his official title is Prince-consort of Mandalor?”
“WHAT?!”
It was mid-evening on Mandalore, the air tepid on the balcony as Obi-Wan Kenobi-Kryze read the news of the Trade Federation’s blockade of Naboo and the subsequent invasion on his holopad. He took a long sip of his tea, his eyes flitting over the details.
“How barbarous,” he muttered into his cup, followed by something about “pathetic lifeforms.”
As if on cue, his communicator chimed. He recognized the signal immediately—it was from his old Master.
He rarely heard from the man these days. Then again, he hadn’t heard much from him even when he’d been Qui-Gon’s Padawan. Since the wedding, however, Obi-Wan had grown more accustomed to the long stretches of silence between their conversations. Truthfully, he’d never expected his former Master to attend at all. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he’d sent the invitation. Perhaps it had simply been out of courtesy.
Nonetheless, Qui-Gon had come.
Since then, they had exchanged the occasional conversation, more often than not over a cup of tea. But this time, something (perhaps the Force, if his old master had any say in it) told Obi-Wan that the call was not an invitation to tea.
He tapped the button to accept the transmission and was greeted by his master's troubled expression. Still, the older man appeared to be in no immediate danger. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. Qui-Gon clearly wasn't calling to request a rescue, and he certainly couldn't imagine the man seeking him out for practical advice or wise counsel.
“Master Jin,” he greeted. “Is something the matter?”
Qui-Gon gave a quiet huff. “Must I only be allowed to call my old Padawan when I am in trouble?”
Obi-Wan let his expression answer for him.
Qui-Gon hummed. “Well, it's true I'm not in trouble, but I do need your help.”
Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing at his temples before running a hand back through his hair, which had grown quite long since setting off on his own; something his wife, at least, had greatly appreciated.
“What do you need?” he asked wearily.
Qui-Gon smiled, and a moment later an alert appeared on Obi-Wan's holopad. He opened the attachment to find an image of a young boy asleep aboard a starship, dressed in clothes that fit him poorly, as though they'd been handed down from someone older than him and hastily tailored to size.
“Picking up strays now, are you, Master?” he asked dryly, hoping there was a good explanation for why Qui-Gon happened to have a strange child in his custody.
“His name is Anakin Skywalker. I found him on Tatooine.”
“Tatooine?” Obi-Wan echoed. Well, that certainly explained the impoverished look about him. “Why in the heavens do you have a boy from Tatooine?”
“Well, I found the boy and his mother living as slaves—”
“He’s a slave?!”
“He was,” Qui-Gon corrected calmly. “I won his freedom in a podrace.”
Obi-Wan stared at him in stunned silence for a heartbeat.
“…Master?!”
“In my defense,” Qui-Gon continued, sounding rather unbothered, “it was the most practical solution available.”
Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You gambled for a child?”
“When you put it like that, it does sound rather questionable.”
“What would you have done if you’d lost your wager?!” Obi-Wan asked in exasperation.
“Well, there’s no use dwelling on disastrous hypotheticals, you know,” the Jedi said airily. “Besides, young Skywalker was quite skilled.”
“…The boy was flying the podracer?!” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but shout. “He can’t be more than, what? Seven years old?”
“He’s nine, actually.”
“Yes, that makes it so much better.”
Qui-Gon gave him an exasperated look. “Still too old for the Jedi Council.”
“You brought the boy to the Council? Why?”
“Come now, Obi-Wan. You know why humans—even adult humans—are particularly rare in the podracing circuits,” Qui-Gon prompted.
“Yes. Most humans don’t have fast enough reflexes to survive, much less win.”
“Most?”
“Yes, well… except for…” Realization dawned on Obi-Wan’s face, making Qui-Gon feel quietly pleased that his former Padawan had finally arrived at the conclusion he was trying to lead him toward. “Force-users. So the child is… But how? I thought the Council kept track of Force-sensitive children throughout the galaxy.”
The old Master looked somewhat saddened. “Correction. Children of the Inner and Mid Rim, perhaps. Tatooine is in the Outer Rim—Hutt Space, at that. A slave boy would have easily fallen through the cracks.”
“Even then, to be so strongly attuned to the Force’s intuition…” Obi-Wan muttered, definitely not jealous of a child for being able to trust the will and flow of the Force so effortlessly when he himself had always struggled with it. “Ordinarily, without training, those gifts would have faded by now.”
Qui-Gon stroked his beard. “I thought the same thing. I tested his blood, and it was as I suspected.”
Another alert appeared on the holopad. This time it displayed a midi-chlorian count.
The prince’s eyes widened.
“That’s a count even higher than Master Yoda’s!”
“Yes.” Qui-Gon’s expression grew more solemn. “And what’s more… his mother claims there was no father.”
“You’re surely not thinking…”
“That he may be the Chosen One?”
Obi-Wan sighed. “Master Jinn… the Chosen One is a myth.”
Qui-Gon regarded him for a long moment. “Many things begin as myths, Obi-Wan.”
“No, many things remain myths.” Obi-Wan folded his arms. “The prophecy has been debated for millennia. Half the Order believes it was mistranslated, the other half cannot even agree on what ‘bringing balance’ is supposed to mean.”
“And yet the prophecy exists.”
“So do stories of star birds.” A faint smile tugged at Qui-Gon’s lips. “You always did enjoy arguing.”
“I learned from the best.”
“You learned to argue with the best.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t suppress the ghost of a smile before his expression sobered once more.
“Even if I humor this… impossible theory,” he said, gesturing toward the sleeping boy on the holopad, “what makes you believe he is the one? A remarkable midi-chlorian count does not make someone a messiah.”
Qui-Gon’s gaze drifted to Anakin.
“No,” he admitted quietly. “It does not.”
Obi-Wan blinked. “Then why?”
“Because when I met him…” Qui-Gon paused, searching for words. “The Force became… still. It was as though every current I have followed for decades converged upon that child. I have never experienced anything like it. I cannot explain him,” Qui-Gon admitted. “Every answer I sought only raised more questions. Yet through it all, one thing remained constant.” He looked at the sleeping boy again. “The Force never once told me to walk away.”
Obi-Wan studied his old Master carefully. Qui-Gon was many things, but he was hardly prone to exaggeration when it came to his musings on the living force.
“You’re serious.”
“Entirely.”
Obi-Wan let out a slow breath.
“…And the Council said no.”
Qui-Gon nodded. “Yes. Too old, they said. His past and his attachments leave him vulnerable to fear… anger… hatred.”
Obi-Wan could hardly fault a slave child for such feelings. He had heard countless tales of how slaves in Hutt Space were treated, each one more horrifying than the last. If even a fraction of them were true, then the boy in the image had every reason— no more like every right to be afraid, angry, and full of hate for the circumstances fate had cast him in and those who had made him their property to do with as they pleased (including using him as gambling winnings, apparently).
Still, the teachings were quite clear that those were not traits befitting a Jedi. It was why the Order raised its younglings in the Temple, sheltering them from such burdens before they had a chance to take root.
What, then, were they to do with a child like Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine?
“I told them I would take him as my Padawan learner. Personally.”
Ah.
That was why they called Qui-Gon Jinn the Maverick of the Jedi.
“…You declared that in front of the entire High Council?”
“I did.”
“Master…” Obi-Wan sighed. “You know you yourself could be on the Council if you weren’t so…”
“So what?” Qui-Gon asked, amusement flickering across his face.
“…You.”
Qui-Gon laughed.
“Well, if being a Council member means turning a blind eye to what I believe is right, then I think I would sooner abandon the notion.” His smile became sly. “Besides, you are hardly one to talk, Prince Consort of Mandalore.”
Obi-Wan blushed before disguising his embarrassment behind a cough.
“Well… what did the Council say?”
“They deferred the matter. Sent me to Naboo to protect their Queen.”
“Ah yes. I was just reading about the invasion.” Obi-Wan frowned. “What scum.”
“Yes. Negotiations with the Federation went… poorly,” Qui-Gon said with a grimace. “But more importantly, when we fled to Tatooine, we were pursued. I have every reason to believe our attacker was a Sith. I managed to get us away, but…”
“If he truly is a Sith,” Obi-Wan finished, “then he will undoubtedly pursue you back to Naboo.”
“Precisely.” Qui-Gon’s expression grew solemn once more. “Which brings us back to your original question. I wish to leave Anakin in your care until I return. Chosen One or not, the child is still untrained.” He paused. “A planet under hostile occupation that may soon descend into war is no place for him—Sith notwithstanding.”
Obi-Wan blinked.
“You want me to… babysit?”
“Guard,” Qui-Gon corrected.
“Master, you’ve just told me the Sith have returned after a millennium.”
“I have.”
“And your solution is to leave the Force-sensitive child with me while you go confront the Sith alone?”
“That is the general idea.”
Obi-Wan let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Then I should be the one coming with you.”
Qui-Gon’s expression softened.
“No.”
“Master—”
“No, Obi-Wan.”
Silence settled between them.
“You’re forgetting something.” Qui-Gon folded his hands into his sleeves. “You are no longer a Jedi.”
Obi-Wan looked away.
“You are Prince Consort of Mandalore. Your involvement would be… controversial to say the least. Your place is there.”
“My place is where I can do the most good.”
“Is it?” Qui-Gon asked gently.
Obi-Wan frowned.
“Tell me,” Qui-Gon continued, “if Duchess Satine learned that you had abandoned Mandalore to chase rumors of a Sith, what would she say?”
Obi-Wan’s mouth opened. “…She would be… displeased.”
“Displeased?”
“Profoundly.”
“I imagine ‘incensed’ is closer.”
Obi-Wan sighed.
“And your son?” Qui-Gon asked.
The question landed far harder than the last. Obi-Wan’s shoulders sagged.
Qui-Gon continued “Last I heard, Kor’ika has only just begun sleeping through the night without insisting his father check beneath the bed for… what was it again.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Obi-Wan’s lips.
“…He insists there are monsters.”
“There always are,” Qui-Gon said quietly. “The difference is that now you are responsible for making sure they never reach him.”
Obi-Wan was silent.
“You once told me,” Qui-Gon continued, “that you wanted a life where you could choose attachments instead of avoiding them.”
Obi-Wan nodded almost imperceptibly.
“This is that life.”
Another long silence passed.
Finally Obi-Wan exhaled.
“…Satine is going to ask why a Jedi Master has left a mysterious nine-year-old on our doorstep.”
Qui-Gon’s lips twitched.
“Tell her I asked nicely.”
The transmission ended with a soft chirp.
Obi-Wan sat motionless for several moments, staring at the now-dark holoprojector. A slave boy from Tatooine. A child with a midi-chlorian count higher than Yoda’s. Perhaps the Chosen One.
Or perhaps simply another child who had been dealt an impossibly cruel hand.
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Satine is going to think I’ve lost my mind.”
“Daddy!”
Obi-Wan turned at the familiar voice just in time to catch a small blur barreling toward him.
Five-year-old Kor’ika launched himself into his father’s lap with enough force to nearly send the chair backward.
“There you are,” Obi-Wan laughed, steadying them both. “I was beginning to wonder whether your mother had finally hidden you somewhere I couldn’t find.”
“I was helping!”
“Were you?”
Korkie nodded vigorously. “Mama said I was very helpful.”
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.
“I put all the records in alphabetical order.”
“…I see.”
“And then she had to un-help my helping.”
“That sounds much more believable.”
The boy grinned, entirely unashamed.
“Who were you talking to?”
“My old Master.”
“The Jedi one?”
“The Jedi one.”
Korkie’s eyes lit up. “Is he coming to visit?”
Obi-Wan smiled despite himself.
“In a manner of speaking.”
The following afternoon, a sleek starship settled onto one of Sundari’s landing platforms.
Qui-Gon descended the boarding ramp with the unhurried gait that had always somehow managed to irritate Obi-Wan. Beside him stood a small blond boy wearing those same oversized clothes and clutching a worn backpack to his chest. His blue eyes darted everywhere at once.
The gleaming domed walls of Sundari. The towering city. The armored Mandalorian guards.
Everything.
He looked simultaneously awestruck… and terrified. Qui-Gon rested a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder before leading him forward. Obi-Wan met them at the foot of the ramp. For a long moment, neither he nor Anakin said anything.
The child simply stared.
“So…” Anakin said at last, peering up at him. “You’re the one who got married?”
Obi-Wan blinked.
“…Yes.”
“You don’t look old enough.”
A snort escaped Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan shot him a flat look before kneeling so that he was eye level with the boy.
“No?”
Anakin shook his head.
“I thought people who got married were supposed to be old.”
“I’ll be sure to inform my wife.”
Anakin brightened.
“Oh! Is she nice?”
“The nicest person I know.”
“Good.” The boy relaxed almost instantly. “Mister Qui-Gon says you used to be his Padawan.”
“I did.”
“But you left to be a prince! And you live in a big castle now.”
Obi-Wan glanced up at Qui-Gon.
“You’ve been telling him this?”
“It seemed prudent.”
Obi-Wan sighed.
“…Well then.”
He stood and offered Anakin his hand.
“Welcome to Mandalore, Anakin Skywalker.”
The boy looked at the offered hand for only a moment before taking it.
Master Qui-Gon gave something between a nod and a bow. “I must be going urgently. This was much more of a detour than the council would have liked.”
Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek. He’d hoped Qui-Gon would have at least stayed a full five minutes, but that was Qui-Gon Jinn for you…
“Korkie will be rather disappointed. He was hoping you’d eat dinner with us.” He said, hoping none of his negative emotions seeped into his voice.
Qui-Gon merely gave a half hearted smile. “Well, tell him I shall do so soon… when I come back for Anakin.”
And that was his final word before he went back to the ship and flew off to Naboo, leaving his two padawans together standing on the landing pad, both hoping he would return soon. The young boy turned to the prince.
“So what the heck is a Korkie?”