Chapter Text
Empty hearts I can hear them talking
Close my eyes keep on stalking my love...my love
No one's aware of the hunger I feel
It's something you or time cannot heal
I need someone to help me rise above...
I
Obi-Wan watched the stars streak by, his reflection ghostly in the viewport. His quarters on the Revenge were sparse: a neatly made bed, a small meditation area, the rest consumed by work—datapads, tactical displays, and comms equipment. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. The week-long journey from Korriban had stretched into ten days, thanks to a swarm of Zygerrian raiders with stolen Republic weaponry.
He'd let them try anyway. It had been satisfying to vent his frustrations.
The door hissed open behind him. Obi-Wan didn't bother turning around. "In most civilized systems, barging uninvited into someone's quarters is considered rude."
"Good thing this isn't one of those." Ventress's reflection flashed across the glass as she slinked into view. Maul stalked in behind her, looking angry and frustrated.
Ventress leaned against the wall and casually flicked a blade from her pocket. "Lost in thought again? I thought brooding was Maul's thing."
Obi-Wan hid a smile at Maul's growl. "I don't brood. I strategize."
He finally turned to face them. Their concern was clear, though they tried very hard to hide it. "If this is another attempt to change my mind—"
"That would be a waste of time." Ventress waved a hand. "We know how this goes. You're stubborn as a bantha, and once you've set your mind on something, it would take an act of the gods to make you change it."
"We should turn this ship around right now," Maul said. "Or better yet, raze Naboo and be done with it. Take what we want. No need for these ridiculous..." His lip curled in disgust. "Politics."
A fond smile touched Obi-Wan's lips as he moved deeper into his rooms. He shrugged out of his tunic, throwing it on the bed before turning back to them, arms crossed over his bare chest. "As tempting as that sounds, we all know why this is necessary." He gestured to the viewport, where Naboo hung like a pale pearl against the void. "The Empire needs Naboo. We need their resources, their position. Taking it by force would be... messy. Inefficient."
Ventress arched an eyebrow. "Since when have you cared about efficiency? Felucia was anything but tidy."
"Felucia was different. This is about more than conquest. It's about solidifying our rule. Showing the galaxy we can be... magnanimous."
Maul scoffed, but Obi-Wan continued, his voice taking on a harder edge. "The infighting among Sith factions grows worse by the day. We're strangling each other, fighting over scraps while the rest of the galaxy watches and waits." He paused, his gaze distant. "I won't see my people suffer just so I can claim another chunk of rock. Naboo's resources could tip the balance in our favor, give us the advantage we need to crush our rivals once and for all."
There was a long pause.
Maul grunted. "Magnanimous. You sound like a Republic diplomat." But it held little heat, only frustration.
"Perhaps," Obi-Wan conceded. "But sometimes, you play the long game. This marriage gives me a foothold in Naboo no blaster ever could."
Ventress flicked her blade down. "I still don't like it."
He saw their worry, a tightness around Ventress's eyes, the rigid set of Maul's shoulders. It unsettled them - his agreement to this marriage. Unmoored them.
For a decade, it had been the three of them against the galaxy, against even their own Empire. He remembered their early days, acolytes pitted against each other by their Masters. The duels, the betrayals, the scars he still carried from their sabers. He'd broken them both more times than he could count, and they, him. But somewhere along the way, rivalry had become something else. Strength in shared scars, and the way the oldest, deepest wounds were the most familiar.
"Your concern is touching," he said, "but unnecessary. Everything will be fine."
Ventress scoffed. "You can't know that. This whole thing reeks of a trap."
"The Queen took an enormous risk proposing this. Her reputation, her throne, maybe even her life—she put it all on the line. That means something."
"Why should we care about her risks?" Maul said. "We don't bow to planetary monarchs."
"No, we don't." Obi-Wan strode to his desk and activated a holo-projector. "But we recognize valuable assets. And Queen Amidala is nothing if not valuable."
The Queen's image shimmered, breathtaking even in the holo's blue light. Her gaze was regal, composed.
"I've never met her," Obi-Wan said, studying the image. "But her reputation precedes her. Ascended the throne at fourteen, weathered an invasion, transformed Naboo into a Mid Rim powerhouse. All before thirty."
Ventress's eyebrow shot up. "Impressive," she grudgingly admitted. "But that doesn't explain why she's suddenly so eager to align with the Empire. Naboo loves its neutrality."
"Indeed. Which makes this proposal even more interesting. If she's reaching out, it's because she sees the way the galaxy is shifting. She's positioning Naboo to be on the winning side."
Maul growled, fingers twitching. "Or setting a trap. Luring one of the Empire's most powerful Warlords into her web."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "The Queen's many things, but not a fool. She's scared, and for good reason."
He turned, picking up his saber. It felt like an extension of himself, the kyber crystal humming its off-key tune. The Dark Side had warped it, unnatural yet perfect for the jagged edges in Obi-Wan's mind.
"Think," he continued, feeling their eyes on him. "The galaxy is changing. The Empire grows stronger every day. Amidala sees the writing on the wall. Naboo can't stand alone forever."
Ventress snorted. "So she throws her cousin to the rancors? How noble."
"It's not that simple," Obi-Wan said. "She's trapped. Caught between her duty to her people and the reality of galactic politics. This marriage... it's a compromise. It preserves some of Naboo's autonomy while aligning with the winning side."
He paused. "And I imagine the prince is in a similar spot."
When he looked up, both Maul and Ventress were staring.
Obi-Wan considered. How to explain the thought that had been nagging him for weeks, since the emissary from Naboo had stepped into his throne room on Korriban and shocked them all with the gamble of a lifetime? "What do you suppose he's heard about me? About us? We're not exactly known for our gentleness."
Silence. They'd all done terrible things for the Empire. Necessary, maybe, but terrible nonetheless.
"Did he agree to it?" Ventress said slowly. "Or is he fighting it?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "Either way, it cannot be easy. To be handed over to a stranger for political expediency."
He turned back to the viewport, stars streaking by. His reflection stared back, long copper hair tied in a bun, his beard neatly trimmed, golden eyes gleaming. He barely recognized himself sometimes. The man he had become was so far removed from the youth he'd been before the Dark Side, before it had found him and he'd found it.
He licked his lips. Vulnerability was not a luxury he allowed himself often, but Maul and Ventress's concern surprised him. Maybe he wasn't as adept at hiding his nerves as he thought. "I don't know what to expect," he admitted. "But I... I dread the idea that he'll be just like any other highborn omega."
Ventress cocked her head. "Meaning?"
Obi-Wan scrubbed a hand down his face. How to explain the bone-deep weariness, the fear of Skywalker being just another vapid, empty-headed omega? "Pampered. Sheltered. An ornament, nothing more." A pawn to be moved across the board of alliances and favors, never allowed a thought or desire of their own. They'd seen it a hundred times, on a hundred worlds. And the thought of his future mate being another mindless pretty thing...
"You want a challenge," Maul said, understanding. "Someone who can match you blow for blow."
Obi-Wan managed a wry smile. "Is that so terrible? To want a partner, not a trophy?"
Ventress snorted. "Careful, Kenobi. A strong-willed omega might be more trouble than they're worth."
"Perhaps," Obi-Wan conceded. "But at least it wouldn't be boring." He turned away from the viewport, facing them. "We'll know soon enough. We'll be at Naboo within the hour."
Maul's face was grim. "Then what?"
Obi-Wan's jaw tightened. "Then... we see what happens next."
His gut twisted, a mix of anticipation and dread. He'd faced down armies, toppled governments, but this... this felt different. More personal. More dangerous.
Obi-Wan's hand drifted to his saber again, thumb tracing the familiar ridges. Whatever came next, he'd be ready. He had to be.
***
Obi-Wan stood at the bottom of the Theed Palace steps, squinting against the late afternoon sun. The building loomed before him, all gleaming domes and intricate stonework. It was beautiful, he had to admit. Impractical, but beautiful.
A warm breeze carried the scent of flowers and water, undercut by something sharper. Fear. The Naboo guards flanking the steps reeked of it, though their faces remained impassive. Their fingers twitched on their weapons as Obi-Wan's gaze swept over them.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As if those popguns could do anything against a Sith Lord.
Behind him, Ventress shifted restlessly. "This is taking too long," she muttered.
"Patience," Obi-Wan said. "Let them have their little show of power."
Maul growled low in his throat. "I don't like it. We're exposed."
Before Obi-Wan could respond, the massive doors at the top of the stairs swung open. A hush fell over the courtyard as Queen Amidala emerged, flanked by handmaidens and advisors. She was a vision in gold and white, her elaborate headdress glinting in the sun. Her face was a mask of neutrality, but Obi-Wan didn't need the Force to sense her unease. It rolled off her in waves, making his nose twitch.
As she descended the steps, Obi-Wan took in the details. The way her handmaidens' eyes darted constantly, assessing threats. The subtle bulges beneath flowing robes that betrayed hidden weapons. The measured, graceful steps that spoke of years of training in poise and etiquette.
Queen Amidala stopped a few feet away from him, close enough that he caught a whiff of her perfume—something floral and delicate that did little to mask the sour tang of anxiety.
"Lord Kenobi," she said, inclining her head. "Welcome to Naboo. We are honored by your presence."
"Your Majesty." He bowed, carefully measured. "I appreciate your hospitality. Theed is as lovely as I've heard."
A man materialized at Amidala's elbow, all sharp angles and oily smiles. There was something off about this one. His scent was... wrong. Masked. Obi-Wan filed that information away for later.
"May I present Sheev Palpatine, my advisor.”
Palpatine bowed, short and shallow. "Lord Kenobi, what an unexpected pleasure. I must say, we were quite surprised when you accepted our proposal. Many thought you above such provincial alliances."
Obi-Wan's hackles rose at the thinly veiled insult. "Then many are fools," he said smoothly. "Naboo has much to offer. I'm not one to overlook potential due to outdated prejudices."
Palpatine's smile tightened. "How very...progressive of you."
"Now, now," Amidala cut in, "let's not bore our guest with politics before he's even through the door." She turned to Obi-Wan. "I'm sure you'd like to get settled. We've prepared rooms for you and your companions."
Obi-Wan inclined his head. "That would be appreciated. Though I confess, I'm eager to discuss the details of our arrangement."
Something flickered across Amidala's face. Apprehension? Guilt? It was gone before he could be sure. "Of course," she said. "Perhaps we might speak privately? After you've had a chance to refresh yourself, of course."
"Your Majesty," Palpatine interjected, "I really must insist on being present for any discussions regarding—"
"Thank you, Advisor," Amidala cut him off, her tone brooking no argument. "I believe I can manage a simple conversation."
Obi-Wan hid a smirk as irritation flashed across Palpatine's face. The advisor bowed theatrically. "As you wish, Your Majesty. I'll see to it that Lord Kenobi's companions are properly settled."
"That won't be necessary," Obi-Wan said coolly. "My people can see to themselves."
Palpatine's lips thinned, but he nodded. "Of course. If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your quarters."
As they entered the palace, Obi-Wan hung back, letting Ventress and Maul go ahead with Palpatine. He fell into step beside Queen Amidala, lowering his voice. "Your advisor seems... protective."
Amidala's lips quirked. "Sheev means well. But he forgets sometimes that I'm not the child he knew when he first took office."
"And how long ago was that?"
"Longer than I've been alive," she admitted. "He's served Naboo for decades."
Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully. "A wealth of experience, to be sure. Though sometimes fresh perspectives can be valuable."
"Indeed." Amidala gave him a sidelong glance. "Is that what you're offering, Lord Kenobi? A fresh perspective?"
He chuckled. "Among other things."
They walked in silence for a moment, their footsteps echoing off marble floors. Obi-Wan took in the opulent surroundings—vaulted ceilings, priceless artworks, delicate tapestries. All of it spoke of a culture steeped in tradition and wealth. And complacency.
"I hope you'll find your accommodations satisfactory," Amidala said as they approached a set of ornate doors. "These will be your rooms for the duration of your stay."
Obi-Wan nodded. "I'm sure they'll be more than adequate. Though I'm more interested in our upcoming discussion, Your Majesty."
Amidala's spine straightened almost imperceptibly. "Of course. Shall we say in an hour? That should give you time to settle in."
"Perfect," Obi-Wan said. He caught her gaze, holding it for a moment longer than was strictly polite. "I look forward to it."
A faint blush colored Amidala's cheeks, but her voice remained steady.
"I appreciate your willingness to speak candidly," he said, breaking the silence.
Amidala straightened. "Then I hope you'll forgive my bluntness. Why did you agree to this marriage?"
Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow. "I was under the impression it was your idea."
"It was," she admitted. "But you've refused better offers from far more influential worlds than Naboo. Why us? Why now?"
He considered her for a long moment. There was a shrewdness in her dark eyes that belied her youth. "You intrigue me," he said finally. "A young queen, holding her own against vipers like Palpatine. Repelling invaders from Ryloth and Alderaan. Forging an alliance many would consider... unwise."
Her lips quirked. "Some might call it desperate."
"Perhaps," Obi-Wan conceded. "But bold. You saw an opportunity and took it, consequences be damned. That is decisiveness I can appreciate."
"And of course," Amidala said dryly, "it has nothing to do with Naboo's location or resources."
Obi-Wan chuckled. "I won't insult your intelligence by pretending those weren't considerations. But they weren't the only factors."
"No?" Amidala arched an eyebrow. "What else, then?"
"Curiosity," Obi-Wan said simply. "About the ruler you'll become. The potential of this alliance. And, I admit, the prince I'm to marry."
A flicker of something—concern? Guilt?—crossed her face at the mention of the prince. Gone as quickly as it appeared, but it piqued his interest.
"I see," Amidala said carefully. "And your expectations? Of him. As your intended."
As your mate , went unsaid.
"My expectations?" he echoed, buying himself a moment to think. "As an alpha, or as a warlord entering a political alliance?"
Amidala didn't blink. "Both. They're rather intertwined, aren't they?"
"True enough." He inclined his head, acknowledging the point. "As a warlord, I expect the prince to uphold his end of our agreement. To be a bridge between Naboo and the Empire, to help facilitate a smooth transition of power."
He paused, sensing her unease. Interesting. "As an alpha..." he went on, watching her carefully, "I confess, my expectations may differ somewhat from what you're accustomed to here on Naboo."
"How so?" Her spine straightened, but her fingers were still twisting together.
Obi-Wan could practically taste her anxiety, a tangled knot of conflicting emotions. Guilt, fear, determination—all warring within her. He realized then what she truly feared, what she needed to hear from him.
"In Sith culture, omegas are not viewed as...delicate creatures to be coddled and protected," he said carefully. "They are valued for their strength, their ability to stand as equals alongside alphas and betas."
Relief flickered across her face before she schooled her expression. Not quickly enough.
"I see," she said, her tone neutral. "And how does that translate to your expectations for Anakin specifically?"
Obi-Wan considered this for a moment. "I expect him to be strong-willed, intelligent, and capable. I have no desire for a simpering, submissive mate. If he's half as formidable as you, Your Majesty, I suspect we'll get along quite well."
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Anakin is...certainly not lacking in spirit."
"Good," Obi-Wan said firmly. "I look forward to matching wits with him."
"And what of more personal matters?" Amidala asked, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Your intentions regarding heirs? And - and physical relations?"
Ah. The crux of her concern.
Obi-Wan kept his expression neutral. "I have no illusions about this arrangement. I don't expect love to blossom between us. But neither will I be cruel or callous."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "That's what truly worries you, isn't it? You fear you've handed your cousin over to a monster."
Her composure cracked. "I - that's not -"
"It's alright," Obi-Wan said gently. "Your concern for him does you credit. I assure you, Prince Anakin will be my partner, not my prisoner or plaything."
He felt the conflict raging within her—relief warring with guilt. His own thoughts mirrored hers. They were both trapped between duty and personal desire, with no winning outcome in sight.
"As for heirs," Obi-Wan continued, "that's for Anakin and I to discuss privately. I won't force the issue if he's unwilling." He couldn't help but wonder if he himself would be unwilling, when the time came.
Amidala nodded slowly. "I appreciate your honesty, Lord Kenobi. And your understanding."
Obi-Wan inclined his head. "Of course. I hope I've managed to set your mind at ease, at least somewhat."
"You have," she admitted. "Though I confess, you're not quite what I expected."
"Oh?" He couldn't read the flicker of amusement in her eyes, couldn't tell if it was relief or mockery. He felt a surge of impatience. This was a burden he'd been forced to shoulder—a consequence of his position. He'd been prepared to accept it, to treat it like any other duty. But Amidala, with her intelligence and her well-meaning concern, was not easily swayed by duty. He needed to be careful. Very careful. "And what did you expect, Your Majesty?"
A wry smile tugged at her lips. "Someone more...ruthless, I suppose. Less reasonable."
"Ah." Obi-Wan chuckled. His laughter sounded hollow even to his own ears. "Well, I can be quite ruthless when the situation calls for it. But I've found that reasonableness often yields better results in the long run."
Amidala regarded him thoughtfully. "A wise approach. I hope it serves you well in your dealings with Anakin. He can be challenging at times."
"I look forward to it," Obi-Wan said, a hint of genuine warmth in his voice. "Now, perhaps we should rejoin the others? I'm sure Advisor Palpatine is eager to continue meddling in affairs that don't concern him."
Amidala's laugh was startled but genuine. "You're more perceptive than I gave you credit for, Lord Kenobi. Very well, let's not keep them waiting."
They moved towards the door, and Obi-Wan sensed a shift in her scent. The guilt and anxiety were still there, but muted now, overshadowed by cautious hope. It was a start. Trust would come with time.
They rejoined the others. Across the room, Ventress raised an eyebrow at him. Obi-Wan shook his head. Not now. They'd speak later, away from prying eyes and ears.
"I trust your discussion with Her Majesty was illuminating?" Palpatine materialized at his elbow, a genial smile plastered on his face.
"Quite," Obi-Wan said neutrally. He wouldn't give the advisor any ammunition. "Her Majesty is a most astute ruler."
Palpatine's smile didn't waver, but Obi-Wan caught a whiff of frustration. "Indeed she is. Though still quite young. Fortunate she has such experienced advisors to guide her."
Obi-Wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The man's attempts at manipulation were about as subtle as a rancor in a china shop.
"My lords, my lady." A palace attendant bowed low, gaze flitting nervously between Obi-Wan and his companions. "If you would follow me, I will show you to your quarters."
As they walked, Obi-Wan's thoughts drifted to the impending marriage. He'd known it meant sacrificing some personal freedom, but the reality was hitting him now. No more impromptu missions. No more nights with ancient texts. No more...certain pleasures he'd have to forgo.
The attendant bowed and scurried away when they reached their rooms.
"Well," Ventress drawled from her doorway. "This should be interesting."
Maul grunted, yellow eyes scanning the hall. "I don't trust any of them."
"You don't trust anyone," Obi-Wan said, amused. "But you're right to be cautious. Keep your eyes and ears open. I want to know everything that happens here."
His companions nodded and disappeared into their rooms. Obi-Wan entered his own, taking in the opulent furnishings. It was all a bit much. But then, Naboo had always favored extravagance over practicality.
He moved to the window, gazing at the gardens and the distant lake. It was beautiful, he had to admit. A gilded cage, perhaps, but a cage nonetheless.
His gaze fell on clothing laid out across the bed. Along with their food, the Naboo favored other traditions. Tonight there would be a masquerade ball to celebrate the arrangement—the Veildance, as it was called. Guests would adorn masks and intricate costumes and mingle the night away, all without knowing one another's identity. Until midnight, when the masks would come off.
He ran his fingers over the fine fabrics—silk and krayt leather, smooth to the touch. They'd selected for him something that was both simultaneously flamboyant and understated. A midnight blue tunic with silver embroidery, and a high-collared jacket adorned with crystals studding the collar. Supple black boots that would hug his calves like a second skin.
And the mask...
He huffed a laugh. "Subtle."
It was a work of art—burnished silver inlaid with sapphires, delicate filigree curving around the eye holes like flames.
He imagined what his Master would say if she could see him now. He could almost hear her rich laughter, picture the amused glint in her eyes as she teased him about playing dress-up.
The ache of her loss, dulled by time but never truly gone, throbbed in his chest. What would she think of the path he'd chosen? Of the Empire, the lives he'd taken, the alliances he'd forged? Would she be proud of the power he'd amassed, or horrified by the methods he'd used to obtain it?
He shook off the melancholy thoughts. No use dwelling on might-have-beens. Tahl was gone, and he'd made his choices. One foot in front of the other, as always.
He began to dress, each layer of finery another weight on his shoulders. The fabric was exquisite, but foreign against his skin. He was used to the practical garb and armor of a warrior, not stifling collars and fitted shirts.
As he fastened the cloak, he caught his reflection. A stranger stared back—regal, imposing, every inch the conqueror. Was this how Naboo saw him? A wolf in fine clothing, come to devour their world?
He supposed it didn't matter. Let them fear him if they must. Fear could be a powerful tool, after all.
Obi-Wan settled the mask over his face, adjusting it until it sat comfortably. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Time to face the music.
Or in this case, the Veildance.