Chapter Text
Anakin knew something was. . . off when his Master asked him to put his class assignments down. Then that feeling manifested into wearing curiosity as he was told to gather his things. When he was told his presence was needed, that's when the Force felt weary.
A small bag with tiny contents of nothing but his lessons (he wanted to make his Master proud in a sense--he doesn't know if it ever worked), a couple of handheld tools that were noted being universal when it came to fixing small repairs from droids to aircraft were packed and, of course, his mother's japor snippet. The precious reminant he has of her.
Be brave, my Ani. Shmi's words always came back to him whenever he doubted himself. He hoped she was safe still; perhaps he could go back and save her. The final item he carried: His light saber. It was clasped to his belt as he stood next to Master and. . . . more masters? They waited for him inside the hangar. His stomach growled softly. The Padawan wished he had grabbed something from the kitchens earlier during lunch, but he
"Where are we going?" Anakin asked, meekly.
"You will travel to the moon of Stewjon." a tall green Nautolan Master announced. "You will be there in 0-13 hundred hours."
Anakin blinked. He was going alone? The Force danced around him in subtle warning, but he couldn't make out exactly what it meant. Logic told him that this had to be wrong. No way were Padawans allowed outside the Temple when dusk approached, how the hell did the council approve of allowing him to travel in what appeared to be a self navigating starship. That in itself raised further questions Anakin had. A small ship, even if it only fit one person, like that was expensive to own. Come to think of it, Anakin had never seen this starship before.
He questioned it's place in the Temple's Hangar.
"This aircraft belongs to the Stewjoni Courts. It is routed to take you to the moon without delay." A tall, intimidating Master spoke. Anakin vaguely remembered him, he kept pestering Anakin with questions of anger and fear. Of course he was angry and afraid, they had found him and took him and--
"Make haste, Padawan Skywalker." His master gruffed. His own Master, he took a quick peak, he had yet to hold a conversation that didn't involve him behaving recklessly or not meeting standards other Padawans retained.
Anakin blinked. Was this all a test? Perhaps if he did this little mission (whatever it was, he was still not told despite having asked) and returned, than they would all be proud of him and he wouldn't be looked at so cold, so pitied. Maybe he'd be welcomed, or even liked.
Anakin took one last glance back at what was his home for the past eight years. When he was younger, he though freedom came with a packaged deal of friends and comrades. Ever since he arrived, all he got were glares, sneers, unfriendly side-eyes, whispers behind his back; it seems his only friends in the whole building were Master Yoda and comforting binding that was The Force.
After all, he was The Chosen One, or so he was told. That's why he was ripped from Tatooine, his master having tricked a Pod racing game into a bet for his future or all his Credits to his former Slave Master, Watto. When Anakin had won, the man didn't cheer for him, rather giving him an hour to say goodbye before whisking him away here.
Just as he had arrived, he was quickly being uttered away.
"Aren't you coming, Master?" Anakin meeky asked. A part of him wished this would be the moment he goes on an adventure with his Master; as other Padawans had before him. Where his Master would whisk him to the stars and they go on missions to help others and make the Galaxy a peaceful place. Yet, Anakin's wishes were in vein. The dark eyed man gave no answer as he gave a half lidded blink, his presence to Anakin matching more of annoyance than welcoming and nurturing as Anakin had seen him with other Padawans.
Not wanting to keep anyone if he was not going to be given an answer, Anakin straightened his stance.
"May the Force be with you, Masters." He gave a respectful bow, recalling his manners. The all said nothing, but bowed back as Anakin sat in the tiny cockpit of the space craft. It was half the size of a CR90 corvette, and with no weapons attached. Anakin did worry about Pirates, or other bandits that could possibly want to steer him off course. He gripped his lightsaber. His life, he was told it was equivalent to.
Anakin slightly jumped when the aircraft auto started at the press of a button. The ship was moving on it's own towards the exit of the Hangar and with a throttle it was taking off in the air. Anakin glanced back at the Jedi temple as it grew smaller and smaller.
He had a feeling he would not be going back anytime soon. He hoped he was wrong.
The flight was smooth. Thankfully. No harm, no foul and all was quiet other than various beeps in the cockpit that meant nothing or everything was normal. Anakin was bored to say the least as he gazed out at the pitch darkness of space. He had meditated, or at least tried to, but his feelings were conflicted. Why did that send off feel like a subtle farewell?
Anakin gulped. He hoped it wasn't. He hoped this sincerely was a test and he wouldn't fail.
"Base to Starship--57. Base to Starship--57." A voice alerted him through the comm. Anakin blinked, pressing the only button next to the Comm and spoke.
"Um. . .Starship-57 to base." He didn't know what to say. He had never piloted. In fact, he wasn't piloting this ship at all it was programed to bring him to this moon. Anakin gulped, figuring out how he was going to land.
"We've picked up your location, you are on track and on time," Whoever was speaking to him noted. Anakin hoped so, he wasn't the one who programed this, "Arrival time Twenty standard minutes."
The Comm went dead.
"Uh......thank you." Anakin's meek voice spoke. He wondered if anyone heard.
. . .
"Uh......thank you."
"The Jedi is approaching us." a navigator and base control unit member spoke to his superior.
Blue eyes were fixated on the screen showing Anakin Skywalker's approach to the celestial moon of Stewjon. His clenched jaw was hidden from a soft scruffy auburn beard.
"They made him go alone." The taller man in a silk gown grit.
"It appears so, your majesty."
The Stewjon man said nothing as he made haste towards the private quarters. He had much to prepare.
. . .
The aircraft landed like a soft feather to one's cheek. Almost unnoticeable unless pointed out. Anakin gathered his belongings before he realized he didn't ask why he was sent here. He mentally berated himself. How could he have been so careless and stupid? He's probably going to make the council look dumb too. If this all were a test, he was pretty sure he failed.
He stretched his legs a bit before leaving the cockpit, his calves felt a bit numbs from sitting so long. He took a breath before consoling himself. "It was a small mistake. Pull yourself together and carry this out." He gripped his bag before leaving the small ship. There he was greeted by a sea of people, while not identical, there was certainly a dominant gene of reddish blonde hair amongst the group. That and piercing blue eyes, some had freckles, some didn't, all were pale and all wore uniforms of a sunny, happy pale yellow top and light blue bottoms. They were all taller than him, however among the group they had their own distinguished height differences as well.
"Welcome, Padawan Skywalker." They all spoke in unison.
Anakin frowned.
This couldn't be normal. Not even for Jedi's who are politically neutral unless the call for Democracy is heard. He gripped his backpack, stumbling a hello back. He suddenly lost that confidence in the pep talk he gave himself earlier about proving himself. He didn't even know who to approach.
"I have been sent here by the council," the lanky boy spoke vaguely. Trying to keep his knees from shaking. "It is a matter of importance, I'm sure."
"It is indeed." a voice answered. Anakin turned to see an older man approaching him. He was a giant of a man, taller than any of the Stewjon race. He wore all black robes, but tied loosely to appear comfortable. His long flowing brown hair cut to his elbows in straight formality and his eyes were a glowing amber brown. Though, his presence was nothing Anakin internally was afraid of, The Force whispered for him to tread carefully.
Something was wrong about this. All of this.
"Welcome to Stewjon, Anakin Skywalker," The man beamed, revealing his large hand to shake Anakin's, "I am Qui Gon Jinn. King of The Stewjon Moon and it's people."
Anakin gulped. Was he supposed to bow or something? His face flushed and he nodded. "He-Hello." Now what? Anakin wished his Master had given him some type of ordeal to follow. Yet, the Padawan was still sure of this being a test. Perhaps this is something all Padawans do with the Council to prove their readiness for missions? He didn't know.
"Come. You must be hungry." Qui Gon offered. "We shall feast under the stars tonight. And you shall meet my Consort." Qui Gon had long legs and large feet cause Anakin practically had to speed walk to keep up with him. Anakin was hungry and the promise of dinner was a nice one. He hadn't eaten with another being in years. All of his meals being alone in his quarters since no one wanted to sit with him. He glanced down at his bag straps before taking it off.
"I should put my things away first, shouldn't I? That is--I don't want to bring my baggage around everywhere." Anakin trailed off into a mumble. Force he hated that habit. It made him feel weak and stupid and he was told more than once by various individuals it was an annoyance. Qui Gon gave him a look that Anakin's eyes couldn't meet. Even if it wasn't a scowl.
"There is no need. Your luggage will be taken to your quarters."
Quarters? How long was he to stay here?
"Uh- it's ok-" Anakin gripped the bag as a polite Stewjoni stepped forward with her hands out. "We insist." Qui Gon smiled, as two large doors opened for them both to enter a large dining room.
"Your weapon, sir." The Stewjoni woman pointed.
The boy shook his head. "No. Not that." He firmly spoke. His light saber was his life. If he lost it then--
"The boy is of no harm to us, or anyone else. He may keep it." Qui Gon softly announced. The servant nodded. Anakin quickly grabbed his mother's necklace and shoved it in his pocket. The Stewjoni woman beamed at him, taking his things as he raced to King Qui Gon. The dining room was impressive with it's carved marble pillars that appeared to reach into the heavens above. Anakin couldn't tell if it were a painting of the night sky above them or not. Anakin blushed realizing Qui Gon had been holding a seat out for him.
This was weird. Anakin recalled hearing of Kings being serviced on, rather giving it. At least that's how the Hutts were. Anakin thanked him, blushing as he scooted towards the table, biting his lip. His knees shook and he couldn't stop fidgeting.
"So, the Jedi Council tell me you are a Padawan in training."
Anakin nodded. "Yes, sir." He remembered his manners.
Qui Gon hummed, sitting down next to Anakin. It seemed weird to the boy to sit next to a King in this grand room. Then again, nothing was making sense the past day or so. "Intriguing. Never heard of a Padawan in training. Either you are or you are not." Qui Gon poured himself and then Anakin a hot cup of green tea in too large of a cup for Anakin, but he managed.
"You know of our statuses?" Anakin questioned, curiously.
"Of course I do. I once lived with the Jedi and even had a Padawan of my own." Qui Gon smiled. Anakin blinked. Wait. King Qui Gon was a Jedi? Anakin turned to his cup. The tea was nice. Tasted a bit bitter to him but felt good after the long flight.
Had the council sent him to be trained by Qui Gon? Anakin wondered. It made sense given the more intimate setting they were in. This could not have been business formal at all. He felt the Force around him. Indeed, Qui Gon's presence was there. But there was something different about his presence in The Force. It was subdued, as if Qui Gon were hiding it.
"You a Jedi?" Anakin asked.
"Are you surprised?" Qui Gon smirked, thanking a Stewjon man with scorching red hair and wearing a pastry chef's outfit. He carried two saucer plates covered by domes which revealed steaming hot food. And not just any food, but Stewjon cullen skink with a side of fresh, fluffy white milk bread. Anakin's stomach growled at the yummy smell. He had never eaten Stewjon food, but with the presentation he was in for a treat.
"A little." Anakin tasted his soup, smiling and going in for more. Why wouldn't he be? Jedi were not Kings or Senators later in life. . . .were they? He didn't see a lighsaber on Qui Gon's person so maybe he was retired? Could a Jedi retire?
Anakin was lost in his thoughts he almost didn't hear the King speak: "Would you like some milk in your tea?" Qui Gon asked, holding a cream cup. "Stewjon milk is the finest substance in the Galaxy. It's prized as an elixir; for healing and fulfillment." The young Padawan nodded, thanking the King for his offer. The bread itself was sweet to Anakin's surprise. Not that he was complaining. It was a refreshing side to the thigh and creamy soup.
"Everything you are eating contains Stewjon milk as well."
"Sounds like your people love it."
Qui Gon laughed, "That is an understatement. We are used to it's thickness and sweetness. To an outsider like you, however, I worry you'll become addicted." Anakin wouldn't comment on that. He thought it was ridiculous. Addicted to milk? No way.
He sipped his tea. The milk took away the bitterness. Qui Gon was right. The milk was good. It wasn't like Bantha milk that was watery but nutritious. Anakin paused eating to ask his question, "I hope I'm not stepping out of line, but, why am I here, your majesty? I don't think I was sent to simply have dinner with The King of Stewjon."
The older man smiled but not at Anakin.
"Despite the praise they gave me about you, it seems you were not informed of the collateral the Jedi Council made. On top of that you were sent here alone." The last part almost sounded vicious to Anakin, but he pretended to imagine it wasn't.
Praise? "Surly I am here to deliver something. A message or-?"
"You have done your job, young one. And I would say you did an impeccable job considering your circumstances." Qui Gon smiled. "Please, finish your meal. It's delicious is it not?"
"Are you going to train me?" Anakin asked after a long pause, he gulped his tea down, suddenly feeling thirsty. The King gave a contempt curled lip smirk. "I'm sure you will make a fine user in the Force, Anakin Skywalker."
Anakin suddenly felt cold. The Force around him was growing louder, as if it had been suppressed in volume unbeknownst to Anakin. The more Anakin searched within, the louder the warning became. Get out! Anakin's throat and mouth felt clammy, as if a layer of thick wax had built up and solidified. The boy stood up. "Re-refresher?" He stuttered.
"Everything alright?" Qui Gon asked, though he didn't seem concerned.
Then came the dizziness. "I. . . I'm sorry, I must be--" The Force told him to run, yet his legs were frozen to the floor and the death grip he had on the back of the chair kept him from falling to the marble floor. What was wrong with him? What frightened him was when his vision blurred. Qui Gon was a giant blur. Anakin lost all consciousness before he hit the floor. Even then he didn't hit that.
Qui Gon smiled at his husband.
"Your reflexes haven't dulled. He didn't even suspect you were in the room the whole time."
Obi-Wan shrugged. "He'll learn to be as good as me one day. Until then, dear husband, please help me bring our new one to his room. He'll be asleep for quite some time."