Archive of Our Own ^beta

"And there's always the antislavery committee. It's not headed by anyone you know, but I am sure you could talk your way into it without relying on the Chancellor's reference."

―Versé, to Padmé Amidala

Anakin huffed as he tried to keep up with Master Jinn’s enormous strides. The man had to be part Wookiee. That was the only possible explanation. For every one of his steps, Anakin had to take five

“Why…do…we…have to be…here again…Master?” He’d grown up on the Dune Sea, keeping pace with one overgrown jedi master should have been a piece of cake.

Obviously, he’d severely underestimated Master Jinn.

Wry blue eyes flashed down at him, grin hidden in the corner of an unkempt beard though the man never broke stride. “Jedi serve the galaxy in many different ways, padawan mine.” He said, and Anakin held in a curse he’d picked up from a junker. The man didn’t even sound winded!

“Okay…”

Another glance. “All Jedi take turns providing counsel to the Senate. Right now is ours.” Ani could feel his master’s amusement in the Force, the warm brush against his mind and the light jostling against his braid. It reminded him of Watto every time he’d asked about this or that machine part.

Not fondness per se, but an almost grudging sort of hilarity at the situation. As though they found it comical to explain something that should have been obvious.

Of course, it probably was obvious to a Freeborn.

Ani had only been Freed for a handful of rotations. How was he supposed to know everything a Freeborn would? He’d been a Child of the Desert since the day he was born. His veins were filled with the ancient salt seas that had once spanned the Dunes of Tatooine. His skin still remembered every grain of sand, the heat of binary suns. The Mother’s fire that rested in the deepest recesses of his soul, still sang of the bennu bird that glided on the desert breeze. Its wings filled with the hopes and prayers of a people that had existed for millennia.

His chains might be broken, but he would never forget what it meant to be a Child of the Desert, or that he was Freed…

But never Freeborn.

His chains might broken, but the braid beside his ear was a different sort of fetter entirely.

Master Jinn had never bothered to take his chip out…had never bothered to register him in the Republic’s database.

He’s said that Ani wouldn’t need to worry about such things, as a ward of the Order. That the chip was inactive and so wasn’t a pressing concern. That the Jedi rarely registered their identities with the Republic’s central database. Preferring to keep their own records, for security purposes.

They were platitudes from a master that didn’t seem to understand that to someone that was not Freeborn, such comments emphasized just how great an expanse divided their individual upbringings.

How could he be expected to know what was so obvious to a Freeborn? How was he supposed to learn when he wasn’t really Free? At least not in the ways that counted.

Rather then dwell, Anakin decided to “Focus on the here and now.”, Jinn’s voice reverberating with how often he’d chastise him for not staying in the moment.

“So…who will we…be…helping?” Ani puffed. They’d been walking for 10 minutes already, and if they didn’t stop soon it was more than likely he’d pass out…could you pass out from jogging? It felt like he was going to pass out.

They turned left, and Ani waved at a Senate Guard who sent him a wink in response.

“We’ll be providing counsel to Senator Cheiko Jubum, of the Farstey Sector.”

That…revealed absolutely nothing. Anakin tried to remember anything he might have gleaned about Farstey in one of his astro-nav or intergalactic history classes but he was behind on everything.

Aurabesh was a lot harder than it looked, with those weird little squiggly lines. Nothing like good old hutteese, which was as straightforward as a gundark. The masters expected him to complete hundreds of pages worth of reading every week….there was no hope of catching up at this point.

All he could remember was that it was in the Expansion Region, and that was about it.

Anakin nearly missed when they walked into an office instead of continuing down the seemingly endless corridor. Luckily, he stepped through right before the door closed.

Master Jinn bowed, prompting Ani to follow him. “Senator Jubum.”

Senator Cheiko Jubum was a delicate faced humanoid with warm tan skin and lustrous black hair piled into intricate knots and twists. Barely reaching Master Jinn’s shoulder, the senator was so slight that Ani swore he could see sunlight through their nearly translucent skin.

The strangest part about the senator wasn’t their height or hair. It was the heavily embroidered piece of cloth pulled across their eyes.

How were they supposed to see?

A soft smile played across the senator’s thin lips, making their delicate face even prettier and they bowed. Black hair slithering across their shoulder like ink against the warm green silk of their robes. “Master Jedi…and padawan?”

Their voice was just as delicate as their face, vowels crisp against an accent Ani had never heard before, but was almost melodic.

He blushed when a pair of hands dropped on either shoulder, startling him out of his observations.

“Yes, this is my padawan learner, Anakin Skywalker.” Silence followed Master Jinn’s statement, and after a few more beats, Ani realized he was supposed to say something.

“It’s…uh…nice to meet you…senator?” How were you supposed to greet a senator anyway? They already bowed. Shaking hands seemed too personal, and with how fragile they looked, Ani was afraid he’d hurt them.

A tinkling sound that reminded him of bells, echoed across the room. “Well met, Padawan Skywalker. I am Cheiko Jubum. He/Him. Senator of Alpheridies in the Farstey Sector of the Expanion Region.”

A boy could be this pretty?

The senator’s smile widened, and Anakin worried for a moment he could somehow read his thoughts like Master Jinn—who was frowning at him. Mouth pulled into a thin line, and his bushy brows wrinkled in disappointment.

Ani opened his mouth to apologize, only it seemed like it had a mind of its own. “Why do you have cloth wrapped around your eyes? Doesn’t that make it harder to see? Is it like a cultural thing? Ooh! Do you have a headache? I had a headache when I got here! The light’s really different from the one back home. I could program your holoscreens if you want to cut down on the glare!”

His rambling was only cut off by the sharp tug on his braid, a ghostly facsimile of the touch echoing in his mind. Dismay trailed down his training bond, followed closely by Disappointment, and Anakin knew that although Master Jinn wasn’t the type of master to punish needlessly, a punishment would be dolled out as soon as they got back to Temple.

He was going to be doing handstands till he was 20!

Another chime of tinkling bells had Anakin look over to see the senator laughing, hands clutched about a narrow waist. Joy and amusement flowed into the Force, making Ani feel lighter than he had just a moment before.

“That is very considerate of you, young one.” Senator Jubum laughed. “I appreciate the offer, but as to your question it is in part a cultural tradition and because I can’t necessarily see the way you can.”

A grin touched their lips, soft and teasing and Anakin responded on instinct. “As to a headache, I’m afraid headaches are the norm when it comes to the Senate.”

The second part felt like some kind of joke, though a joke at what he didn’t know. Instead, Ani focused on the first part of that sentence. “See differently?”

A heavy sigh sounded behind him. “Anakin, Senator Jubum is miraluka.”

What now?

Another tug on their training bond, and Anakin revised his earlier estimate. He was going to be doing handstands till he was 50, the rate he was going.

If the senator took offense, he didn’t show it. “Miraluka evolved to the point that we no longer rely on optic apertures to perceive the world around us, though we have kept vestigial eyes sockets.” A nod that Anakin could almost believe was the senator’s version of a wink. “We see with the Force.”

The Force! This pretty senator, with the delicate hands and fragile skin was a walking Force visioneer? “Wizard.” He breathed.

Senator Jubum’s smile widened.

“Please forgive my apprentice, your grace, he is still learning.” Qui-Gon said, hands squeezing his shoulders and although it was meant as a reassuring touch, Anakin couldn’t help but flinch.

Sand wasn’t the only thing that his skin remembered. The Children of the Desert had long ago learnt that touch was rarely kind or welcome.

“No apologies are necessary, Master Jinn.”

The grip eased up a fraction, though didn’t leave entirely. “Yes, well…our mission parameters were rather vague in terms of how we can best support the Farstey Sector, and with Ani still learning—“ He trailed off.

Senator Jubum’s smile slowly faded, and Ani couldn’t help but feel bereft at its loss. “But of course.” Came his crisp response, accent sharp as broken glass. “I recently assumed my office earlier this year, and have been adjusting. However—“ a chagrinned smile flashed across their face, but was gone just as quickly. “I’ve found myself chair of a committee when the former chairwoman had to step down. My poor aide is currently bogged down with committee work, and I haven’t been able to help them as much as I would like…”

Qui-Gon nodded. “But of course. Ani would be more than suited in supporting your aide in this endeavor.”

Senator Jubum’s expression remained neutral, though a smile could be heard in his voice. “Excellent.”

Senator Jubim’s aide occupied a room off of the main office, so luckily Anakin didn’t have to travel too far.

A bookcase dominated one wall, nearly bursting with colorful rows of folders, with a tiny desk occupying the space that remained. It didn’t seem nearly big enough to hold the weight of a truly enormous stack of flimsi without impeding it’s occupant.

Strawberry-blonde curls cascaded in a righteous halo, catching the light and Anakin breathed in his gasp of surprise.

Big luminous eyes glanced up, starlight glimmering in their depths and soft, pink lips that resembled the bud of a flower curled into a small bemused smile. Ani felt his stomach flop in response, especially at the faint flicker of surprise and curiosity that echoed in the Force.

There was an inquisitive tug on his bond with Master Jinn, but he ignored it.

Constellations painted across pale skin highlighted by the pale green sweater they wore, made their eyes shine even prettier and Anakin couldn’t help the bright blush that worked its way across his cheeks.

There was an angel sitting in front of him.

And they were even prettier than Senator Jubum.

Cheiko smiled as he sensed the padawan’s awe, mingled with Ben’s confusion. The boy blazed like a supernova in the Force. Bright and burning in his intensity, and Master Jinn really should have been focusing on Little Skywalker’s shields. They were practically non-existent and the full brunt of his attention was nearly overbearing.

“I must apologize for Anakin.” Jinn’s voice broke Cheiko from his reverie, and he turned in the man’s direction. Qui-Gon Jinn’s own light was dim, the nebulous swirl of his emotions muddled and as murky as a black hole.

He’d heard the man was a master of the living force, and it must be hard to live on a planet that was practically devoid of organic life. Coruscant’s core died thousand of years ago under the never-ending expansion of the Republic’s builders.

That might excuse the man’s muddled state, but it didn’t explain the exasperation leaking through his shields.

“I’m told he hasn’t been completing his work, and his professors are quite dissatisfied with the behavior. I meant to question him on his sudden laziness, but haven’t had the opportunity yet. I’ll be sure to speak with him, once we get back to the Temple.”

It was the role of the master to teach, and the role of the student to learn. If a student would not learn, it was the job of the master to seek out ways to better support them. Whether that be by removing extraneous distractions or by praising their efforts.

If they could not learn, then it was the master’s job to support the student in addressing the deficiency. It was a central component of the Luka Sene, and Cheiko found himself wishing for the masters’ easy wisdom. He often found that beings seemed to have everything backwards, especially when it came to educating younglings.

Alas, they were still on Alpheridies and unlikely to make the trek to Coruscant.

“Ignorance is easily rectified, when one is willing to share.” He said instead, hands carefully pulling up the excess fabric of his robes before he sat. Tripping over the ornate train three times this week was three times too many. He had no desire to make it a fourth because he was too impatient to place another barrier between himself and this infuriating jedi.

A hum was given in response, and Cheiko quietly questioned why the Force had decided to assign him this man as a consular.

Hopefully Ben was having a better time of it.

Softly bemused starlight eyes turned embarrassed and Ani realized he was staring.

“Um…” Heat crept over his ears, burning like binary suns, and Anakin quite forgot what he was supposed to be doing. “Uh…the…senator said you…”

What had Senator Jubum said? Something about his aide being swamped with some type of work? What was it? “Comm work?” He tried.

A smile broke out across the angel’s face, cheeks turning a fetching shade of pink like the cactus flowers his mom used to place on their window sill and the krayt dragon in Ani’s belly rumbled even more.

Especially at the surprise and happiness that fluttered in the Force like a butterfly.

“Committee. Work.” A vocoded voice chimed, metallic echo ringing loudly in the small room. Anakin frowned, and only then noticed the pad the angel was holding. Tiny hands nearly white from how strongly they grasped the piece of machinery.

They couldn’t talk?

“Right.” Ani nodded, hoping to assuage the growing feeling of embarrassment the other was projecting. “Committee work. Um..I’m supposed to help.” Another nod, braid bouncing against his shoulder. “Committee work. Help with committee work. That’s me. Um…I’m uh…Ani.” Kriff.

His ears could have powered a solar system with how hot they were burning. “Uh, I mean I’m Anakin Skywalker! But you can call me Ani! I mean…”

Maybe he could try again.

“I’m Padawan Skywalker and I’m here to help with committee work.” Anakin introduced himself, bowing theatrically.

The angel smiled wider, and their embarrassment turned to something softer. Not affection or fondness…but…appreciation. It was that moment Anakin decided he could very happily spend the rest of his life luxuriating in that feeling. “Hi. Padawan. Skywalker.” The electronic voice chimed, slightly stilted as the angel typed out their response. “I. Am. Ben cha’Jubum. He/Him.”

Ben. Anakin thought.

It suited him.

Committee work, as it turned out was markedly boring when you couldn’t understand a lick of it.

Pages of flimsi were filled with swimming words of aurabesh—made all the more difficult to read with weird terms like “im-great-shun” and “nat-sure-eye-sate-shun”. He tried, he really, really tried, but he knew that the frustrated grimace on his face was getting more and more evident as time passed and his lack of understanding grew.

There was a soft touch on his elbow, wave of concern flowing through the Force, and he glanced up to meet pretty grey eyes. “Is. Everything. Okay?” The pad chimed, Ben’s lips curling into an adorable frown and Ani found himself nodding.

“Yup! I’m good! Everything is a-okay!” He said hurriedly, attempting to release his negative emotions into the Force and failing. “Hey did you know that if you adjust the thrust capacitor in a Model 3 X-Wing that you can get the same results as in the Model 4?” Distract, distract, distract.

He didn’t want Ben to think he was a scruffy nerfherder who couldn’t even read, for kriff’s sake. The frown deepened, tiny wrinkles appearing at the corners of Ben’s eyes and Anakin did not like that one bit. “Uh—“

“Is—“ The voice trailed off, frown turning into a wry pout as pale fingers typed out a response. “Are. The. Memos. Confusing?”

At his startled look, Ben continued to type. “I. Know. That. Policy. Memos. Were. Really. Hard. To. Understand. When. I. First. Got. Here. Do. You…Need. Help?” Ani wondered what Ben’s voice would have sounded like, unable to reconcile the tinny vocoder of the pad with the smaller boy.

The offer, while clumsy, was sweet in its sincerity and Anakin couldn’t help but admit the true reason behind his struggles. “Its…definitely not helpful.” He admitted. “But…um…aurabesh is really hard for me.”

Pale eyebrows furrowed, before a look of understanding passed over the other boy’s features.

“You. Were. Not. Raised. At. The. Temple?”

Ani shook his head, fingers playing with his padawan braid as he waited for Ben to type out his response. “I. Can…Help. You? With. Aurabesh.”

Ben was blushing, cheeks bright pink, and Ani couldn’t help but nod.

Qui-Gon sighed as his padawan bounced next to him. Loudly projecting his happiness and exuberance into the Force like a freighter. “Padawan.” He breathed out tiredly.

Blue eyes glanced up at him, twinkling with merriment. “Yes master?” He asked, fingers twitching like that time he’d had too many sweets in the Temple refectory and was practically jumping off the walls.

Qui-Gon tried to remind himself the boy was still settling, but it’d nearly been a year since he’d brought him to the Temple. Surely he should have adjusted by now. “There is no emotion, only peace.” He reminded instead.

A frown was thrown up at him, before narrow shoulders shrugged. “Okay?”

Meditation. He was going to have Anakin meditate until he understood why projecting such strong emotions into the Force was inappropriate for a Jedi. Right after the lecture about how important it was to keep up with his coursework.

He’d add it to the list.

Anakin happily bounced across the thin Temple-issued mattress that served as his bed, scrambling idly for his pad as he did so. Latemeal had lasted for forever, Master Jinn’s disappointment palpable. But Ani didn’t even bother, Master Jinn was always disappointed about something and all he wanted was to download the program Ben had given him.

Fingers finally meeting the cool metal of his pad, Ani yanked it out of the drawer—absently noting he’d have to pick up the homework and stray styluses that stumbled out along with it—and jabbed the data stick in.

Their committee work—and he still had no idea what the kriff that was, or what Ben was doing—had been waylaid as the smaller boy carefully explained all the different types of software that could help Anakin understand documents better.

There was even a software that translated aurabesh into huttese, and Ben had managed to have it saved on a spare data stick. The memory of pale fingers brushing against his made the krayt dragon that had taken residence in his stomach curl up in a happy ball, and he flailed about on his bed to help get out any excess energy.

Finally, familiar shaped letters sprawled across his screen. Please enter text here. It asked.

With a grin, Ani scanned the assignment from his Republic Political Science class.

This was so wizard.

Cheiko knocked carefully on the door before he popped his head in. “Ben?” He asked, smiling at the inquisitive probe sent to him through the Force. Many had thought it was strange a senator that couldn’t see had hired an aide that couldn’t talk, but he wouldn’t trade Ben for the world.

“Let’s call it a day. Did you want to grab nerf burgers for latemeal?”

A wave of YesPleaseYes! echoed in the force, and Cheiko smiled wider at the boy’s exuberance.

As they walked towards a diner on one of Coruscant’s lower levels, he asked how everything had gone with the padawan.

The shyly pleased flicker of joy that glanced across his shields was answer enough.

Anakin didn’t even wait for Master Jinn, happily running into Ben’s office after shouting a greeting to Senator Jubum who laughed in response.

“Hey Ben! That program is amazing!”

He received a bashful smile in response. Pale peach tunic that Anakin absently noted matched the senator’s, offset the bright pink dusted across Ben’s freckled cheeks, and Ani swore his heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“Work!” He shouted when he realized that too much time had passed without him saying anything. “Committee work!” He nearly brained himself, pad narrowly missing an eye though it was worth it at the flicker of amusement that teased across his shields.

Plopping down in a seat that was not as close as he’d have liked, he brandished the pad. “Okay! Let’s do this committee thing!”

The work from yesterday made so much more sense when it was translated into a language he could actually read. Granted, there were still parts that he needed clarification for, but between the two of them they made ample progress on the ginormous stack of flimsi that towered over Ben’s desk.

Apparently, while Senator Jubim had various committees that he sat on the one that was currently creating an influx of work for Ben was the Antislavery Committee, since Jubim had recently assumed the chair.

Ani hadn’t even known the Republic had an antislavery committee.

Several things were highlighted, cramped handwritten annotations that were most likely made by Ben, crammed into the margins and Anakin tried to puzzle out one memo, before he turned to the other. “What’s this thing? About an uh…” Kriff, he couldn’t remember the basic translation. “Creeda….moolee-rah hataw?” Master Jinn’s exasperated voice insisting that Anakin use Basic played in his mind, and he hurried to clarify. “Um…that thing. The shiny thing that yuna puna exchange? It’s small and square, and uh—“

Rather then look confused, Ben simply nodded his head. “Credits.” His pad chimed. “Money/payment. Upgrade?”

Ani nodded, brows raising slightly at his partner’s understanding. Why does Ben know huttese? It wasn’t common for those born in the Core to know the language…

The next half hour was spent with Ben hastily typing out that the Bureau of Sig, Spice and Slavery—a Republic intelligence agency that was supposed to be tracking the movement of weaponry, spice and slaves to better combat illegal activity—had slowly grown more and more defunded in the last three decades. The “line-item appropriation” Senator Jubum was proposing, was meant to act as a temporary fix until more permanent funding sources could be made available.

Qui-Gon frowned as Master Horun found him in the Temple Refectory. The Ithorian doubled as Ani’s galactic history teacher as well as his political science professor, and was one of many classes that his padawan was behind in.

With a poorly concealed sigh, Qui-Gon invited the other master to sit. “What has he done now?”

“Done?” Horun asked, hands carefully folded across his lap.

“Yes, what has Anakin done now? Did he not turn in his work?” He hadn’t been able to pay as much attention as he probably should have .A friend had recently gifted him with a force-sensitive plant and Qui-Gon had been eager to experiment with it.

That, and Ani seemed to disappear into his room as soon as they got back from the Senate Dome.

Horun frowned, or at least frowned as much as their face would allow. “I merely came to tell you that Anakin has been doing quite well.”

That was a surprise.

“He has?”

Still confused, the professor nodded. “Yes, we’ve all seen an increase in his work lately. He’s finally begun to catch up. Whatever you’re doing seems to be working.”

A grin played across Qui-Gon’s face at the news. It looked like mediation was the answer after all.

Senator Jubum was pouring a cup of tea, when Ani walked in. Master Jinn had been called away on an urgent mission that was considered too dangerous for his young padawan to accompany him. It was decided that he would continue his assignment in the Senate and that the Council would rotate jedi knights to check-in on him.

Knight Aveross had barely dropped him off, quick to leave for some reason and Anakin was eager to see Ben.

“Hi Senator!” Ani waved, noting the Senator looked extra pretty today, long hair braided into a crown with crystalline blossoms worked through the tresses. Stray strands had escaped, framing the senator’s face and Ani thought it suited him. Especially when it was paired with the teal silk tunic.

Ben was probably super pretty too! He’d long ago learnt that whatever the Senator wore, his aide was dressed similarly. I wonder if the Senator orders everything to be duplicated in Ben’s size?

A smile lit across the miraluka’s face. “Hello Ani.” He greeted. “I’m afraid that Ben is still sitting in on a committee for me.” Before his disappointment could be felt, the senator continued. “Would you like to have some tea with me?”

Ani nodded, forgetting for a moment that the other couldn’t see, though he likely felt his excitement in the Force. The senator always had the best snacks, and was quick to share them.

A fact that made Ani like him even more.

Another cup was poured, fragrant steam wafting up in heady tendrils and he breathed in deeply. The scent brought tears to his eyes, memories of home lingering in its wake.

“H’kak bean tea?”

Senator Jubum’s smile softened. “Indeed. You know it?”

Lifting up the pale blue china filled with orange tea, Anakin nodded. “My…my mom used to make it…back home on Tatooine.”

The senator hummed in response. “Ben favors it as well.”

Ben knew huttese and liked Tatooine tea.

They both enjoyed their cups silently, Ani nibbling at a sand cookie before he hesitantly broke it. “Senator Jubum…can I ask you a weird question?”

Something warm brushed across his shields, soft and encouraging. “I adore weird questions.” He said, voice sincere. “Weird questions are only weird because they’re from a different perspective. It’s always good to hear from a different point of view.” A teasing look crossed over the senator’s face. “Well…in a manner of speaking.”

Anakin laughed at the joke. “Umm…” Now that he was given permission, he wasn’t entirely sure how to start. “How…” No that probably wouldn’t work. He already knew that senators were assigned committees based off of interest and references. Ben had explained it to him two weeks ago. Anakin remembered because the pastel blue sweater the other boy had worn had made his nose even cuter—and who knew that a nose could even be cute!?

He swallowed. “What made you…interested in joining the Antislavery Committee?”

Senator Jubum stilled, cup paused mid-sip, before it was carefully placed down. Hands folded together gracefully in a gesture reminiscent of a meditation exercise Ani had seen, and the senator tilted his head. “You’re more perceptive than you know.”

He blushed, unused to praise and took a noisy sip of his tea to cover his embarrassment.

The senator was still facing in his direction, eyebrows noticeably furrowed behind the cloth. “The former chairwoman stepped down from the committee because it wasn’t prestigious.” He began, fingers idly playing along the rim of his cup. “Even as the chair, slavery has technically been illegal for five hundred years.”

The scent of h’kak bean hung in the air, the haze of the Great Dune Sea stretching between them, and Anakin had to put his cup down lest he drop it. “But even though it has been illegal, that does not mean it has disappeared entirely. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t those who would do anything to make a profit.”

A hand touched his, and Anakin was proud when he didn’t flinch. Senator Jubum had broadcasted the movement, giving him time to decide whether or not to accept the touch. Another brush of warmth passed over his shields, careful and considerate in a way that Master Jinn had never been. “My life has been touched by those that have suffered from a Republic that turns a blind eye towards slaver freights. When my people asked me to represent them in the Senate, I told them I would.” The hand was warm, despite its delicate appearance. “On the condition that I could sit on this committee. So that the monstrous actions of beings who delight in the subjugation and hardship of others, would pay for their horrific crimes.”

The sincerity and honesty that resonated in the Force was startling, and despite himself Ani felt a few tears trail down his cheek. He rubbed it them away clumsily with his shoulder, unwilling to let go of the hand that anchoring him to reality. For years he’d dreamt of someone fighting for him and his mom. Of a superhero that would come and free all the Children of the Desert. He’d thought when a jedi had come to Mos Espa, that his dreams would become a reality.

But Master Jinn had only Freed him.

Had told him that he had tried, but his mother had to stay behind.

The last memory he had of his mom was watching her raise a hand to her lips, and drop it to her heart. Apart, but never forgotten. It was a reality for the Children, that entire families could be broken apart by callous masters. Uncaring and dismissive if they tore a child from their parent. The Mother taught all her children, that so long as they kept their soul’s fire aflame, that though they be far apart they would never be forgotten.

Ben walked in, and Senator Jubum smiled before telling him he was welcome to ask weird questions anytime.

Ani was still thinking about his conversation, when movement out of the corner of his eye had him turn.

The teal shirt really was as pretty on Ben as he’d thought it would be. Color making starlight eyes look like galaxies, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. It was similar to Senator Jubum’s, as all of Ben’s clothes were, and had the same graceful neckline that extended just past the collarbone, leaving a portion of neck and shoulder bare and allowing him to see the deep scarring around Ben’s throat.

Delicate patterns of lightening danced across the pale skin, and it was a mark that all Children knew.

Chips weren’t the only way masters controlled you.

Hesitantly, Anakin raised his hands.

Ben glanced up, eyes curious before they caught on the gesture Anakin was making.

Two hands curling towards his chest, knuckles touching his sternum before he raised them to his jaw. Front knuckles of his forefingers resting there for a brief moment.

My fire is kindled. It was the beginning of a traditional greeting that Ani had been taught even before he had learned to speak. In a language that all the Mother’s Children knew.

Pale hands so much smaller than his own, provided the second half. I have wandered very far… Ben swallowed, throat bobbing and drawing Ani’s eyes to the scarred flesh once more. May I warm myself by the fire?

Anakin completed it. Hands tapping his chest, before resting on his heart. All Children are welcome.

Eyes like starlight glimmered with tears, and Ani felt the nascent Force bond that had formed between them grow.

The Children of the Desert told tales of the bird of fire that glided on the thermals of the Great Dune Sea. Its wings filled with hopes and prayers of the Children who cried for their chains to be broken.

The fire that rested in the deepest recesses of their souls, sang of its promise to all the Mother’s children. Its promise of freedom. Its promise of hope.

But the Children of the Deep told stories of a bird that flew in darkness. Its feathers filled with the whispers and cries of those who yearned for the light. For the collar that tied them to the depths of the Deep, be broken.

The bennu was the bird that carried dreams of freedom to every Child.

For a jedi initiate that had escaped the Deep Sea Mines of Bandomeer, it was this bird from which the boy drew his name.

As Skywalker left, Cheiko checked on his aide. The emotional turmoil had boiled for the better part of an hour, and the only reason he hadn’t barged in was the gentle reassurances the boy had sent through the Force.

“Ben?” He asked, searching for the familiar light in the Force and finding it near the window. “Is everything alright?”

The boy that had become the closest thing he’d had to a brother burst into tears. Force bursting with impressions and desperate cries.

Quinlan Vos stared down at the pretty miraluka senator that had summoned him. “You want me to what?”

A delicate hand waved away his objections. “Do not pretend, Knight Vos. I’ve already been briefed on your…activities by my predecessor.”

With a grin he knew the other could feel in the Force, the shadow slumped into an offered chair. “So, give me the details.”

Senator Cheiko Jubum folded his hands together, face serious and grave. “I want you to go to Mos Espa and free the woman known as Shmi Skywalker. I will provide you with whatever you need—but it is integral that you accomplish this.”

His sincerity thrummed between them, and Quin found himself nodding.

Child of the Deep.

Ben cha’Jubum was a Child of the Deep. The pretty boy that giggled softly at Ani’s jokes, and patiently taught him aurabesh was a Child of the Deep.

The boy who smiled as he read, tiny fingers idly playing with a stray curl. The boy who always seemed to match his senator, and had given Anakin software that helped him pass his classes. Who made his favorite cookies when Anakin had mentioned missing them. The boy who understood huttese and drank h’kak bean tea, and had electrical burns around his neck.

A Child of the Deep.

“—alker! Padawan Skywalker!” Came a disgruntled voice, breaking him from his thoughts about luminous eyes and star speckled skin and a voice he would never hear.

His planetary history professor was glaring down at him, the cerean’s nostrils flaring in agitation and Ani hunched over guiltily. “Perhaps,” the being started, arms crossed, “you would care to explain to the class how the Zygerrian Empire was dismantled through the efforts of the Jedi?”

Blue eyes glanced up in confusion. “But…it’s not.” He said, voice trailing off. Everyone knew the Hutts got more than half of their slaves from Zygerria.

A brow rose, his professor releasing a flash of surprise before tightening their shields. “Oh?” They asked, voice as close to mocking as a jedi master would allow. Around him, his classmates tittered. “Then what, exactly, have we been learning about for the last hour, padawan?”

The empire may have officially been disbanded towards the close of the Old Republic, but it wasn’t dead the way Master Incoma said they were.

“When slavery was officially outlawed following the Treaty of Coruscant, the granee publiko pawas sent jedai to break up Zygerrian outposts.” Ani explained calmly, slipping into his native huttese without conscious thought. “But that didn’t stop the Zygerrians and ulwani from jujiminmee people across the Outer Rim to dwana us shag spastika to anyone that could afford them.”

Everyone paused as Master Incoma’s nostrils flared, though Anakin didn’t pay it any attention. “So the jedai didn’t end the slave empire. They simply forced it underground, which made it harder to find. That’s why the Senate has a committee to fight it.”

Silence followed in the wake of Anakin’s explanation, before Master Incoma loudly yelled for the boy to get out.

Feemor was just passing by the padawan classes on his way to the Temple refectory when shouting caught his attention.

The knight frowned, green eyes mystified, as he took in the sight of a 10 year old boy screaming at Master Incoma.

“E chu ta an do panda-mames, u dopa-maskey sleemo! Pooodoo—”

Feemor would have liked to hear the rest of the kid’s insult, because the part about Master Incoma’s mother and the bantha was hilarious. But it was probably best he intervened. It looked like the professor was fit to burst a vein.

“Apologies, Master Incoma. Padawan, why don’t you come with me.” Without waiting for either to respond, Feemor grabbed ahold of the boy’s hand and physically dragged him out.

The kid said nothing, head hanging and projecting shame and embarrassment so strongly that it left a sour taste in his mouth.

“So…why was Master Incoma a two-faced poop…”

A small smile appeared on the padawan’s face, before it disappeared. “Peddler.”

He’d have to remember that. It was hilarious.

“Are…” The kid swallowed, “are you gonna tell my master about this?”

Feemor shrugged. “It depends. What inspired that kind of response.?”

Hesitating, he finally admitted that Master Incoma said he couldn’t possibly know that the slave trade was still alive and well in Republic Space and that he was just trying to hide the fact he hadn’t done the assigned reading.

“But I do know!” The boy cried, sincerity leaking through his shields and Feemor couldn’t help but feel a small tendril of dread curl in the pit of his stomach.

“How do you know?”

It was then that he learned the padawan had been a slave before his master had Freed him.

Tired eyes read through the request Knight Stahl had submitted to the High Council. He was requesting a formal inquest against his former Master, Qui-Gon Jinn due to his failure to report crucial information concerning the youngling currently entrusted in his care.

A copy had been sent to every councilor, and cc’d to the Council of Reconciliation.

Feemor hadn’t said a word after that moron had repudiated him. Had stayed placid and composed, despite the sniggers Mace still heard from the man’s age mates. He was an exemplary knight and artisan, and Qui-Gon was the one who walked around like he had an open wound. As though his second padawan formally leaving the Order was some great tragedy.

For the knight to finally request an inquiry, and at the behest of what should have been his padawan-brother, was deeply worryingly.

Mace sent out a request to meet with Skywalker immediately.

The High Council listened in horror, as the boy revealed his past as a Slave.

“Um…” He was fiddling with the sleeves of his robe, Feemor standing behind him and glaring at anyone that looked at the boy wrong. “…would it be possible to get my chip out?”

Master Koon burst into tears and Mace sighed.

“Knight Stahl, please take Padawan Skywalker to the Halls of Healing.” He directed, feeling as ancient as Yoda. “Padawan?” Blue eyes looked up at him, the swirling tempest of emotions barely contained though Mace barely felt them because of how strongly Feemor was shielding the boy. “You have my deepest apologies for any wrongs this council has committed against you, young one.”

Anakin’s eyes widened, surprise bleeding into the Force and Mace couldn’t believe they had missed this.

Couldn’t believe they could have fallen so far as to not notice the trauma that haunted Skywalker’s footsteps.

Oh Qui-Gon. He sighed, watching as Anakin was shown out. What have you done?

Cheiko smiled at the latest comm he received, before shouting out he’d be back in an hour.

When Anakin entered Senator Jubum’s office, he felt a familiar presence. One he hadn’t felt since…

He ran to Ben’s office, eyes filling with tears at the figure speaking quietly with the smaller boy.

She was here. She was here. She was here!

Shmi paused her conversation with the senator’s aide, a boy who blushed every time her son was mentioned, affection mixed with fondness leaking past his shields, when she felt a familiar supernova in the Force behind her.

She turned, smile on her face as she greeted her little sun and stars. “Ani.”

Warm arms wrapped around her, and wouldn’t let go.

Quinlan grinned from his spot on the wall, glancing down at the pretty miraluka beside him. “You did a really good thing, ya know.”

Cheiko smiled up at him, delicate features made softer in the fading Coruscant light. “I only did what any decent person with the means and resources would do.”

Fidgeting for a moment, the shadow decided to shoot his shot. “Um…would ya want to grab a drink sometime?”

Still smiling, his pretty senator nodded. “I’d like that.”

Anakin stopped hugging his mom long enough to introduce her to his most favorite person in the galaxy. “Mom! This is Ben! He’s amazing! Did you know that he knows eight different languages? He even knows a bit of Ryl! And he’s super smart! He’s got this filing system thingy—“

He only stopped when the other boy’s cheeks turned a vibrant red, contrasting sharply with the dark green sweater he was wearing. His mom laughed, and Anakin glanced up to see her smiling softly down at him. “I’ve had the pleasure.” She assured, husky voice warm and familiar and home, and he went to hug her again.

He didn’t care if it made him a bad jedi.

He wasn’t about to let her or Ben go ever again.

“The Chair recognizes the senator from the sovereign system of Alpheridies.”

A petite figure appeared as their pod moved forward. Hair spilling like ink down their back, hanging freely but for an ornate tie towards the very end. “Honorable representatives of the Republic.” They began, saffron silk overcoat reflecting the light. “As Chair for the Antislavery Committee, I present legislation that will better curb the monstrous actions of those that would make profit from the selling and trade of sentient beings.”

Their eyes, obscured by a crimson sash, were trained directly on the Supreme Chancellor. “The Republic serves as a beacon of hope and freedom across the galaxy. We must adhere to the oldest principles of our democracy and fight for the freedom of all beings!”

Palpatine scowled at the thunderous applause that met the boy’s words, quietly plotting Senator Jubum’s demise.

Ani swallowed.

Ben was alway pretty, with his curly strawberry hair and star-speckled skin, and delicate little nose that Ani may secretly dream of brushing with his own. It was simply a matter of fact.

Coruscant was gross. Master Jinn was dumb. Senator Jubum was pretty, and Ben was even prettier.

But dressed in a saffron-colored tunic that shone like a desert penny, his strawberry curls practically glowed. The deactivated chip sat heavily in his pocket, the bits of wire and ribbon he’d wrapped around it suddenly crude and misshapen and he vowed he’d find something better to set it in before he gifted it to his angel.

His mom laughed helplessly behind him.

Following Senator Jubum’s speech, the senate voted to increase the Bureau of Sig, Spice and Slavery’s operating budget. Alderaan took it a step further, petitioning for better reeducation training for the galaxy’s law enforcement agencies and committing funds to retrain their own security forces to denote just how serious they were.

And as freedom flew on the wings of the miraluka’s speech, Palpatine scowled deeper.

Hope was a fragile and fickle thing. Easily crushed.

He’d simply have to find a way to quiet the senator for good.

Quinlan frowned at the comm his pretty senator sent him.

Darkness in the senate. Assistance needed. Bring back-up.

Mace sighed at the headache that was Quinlan Vos, and a disheveled Senator Cheiko Jubum.

Knight Fisto was missing a head tendril, and Depa grinned up at him sheepishly. Tabards singed beyond repair.

“Would anyone like to explain how the Supreme Chancellor knew how to use force lightening?”

They all shared a look, barring the miraluka, who was leaning heavily into the kiffar’s side.

Vos shrugged. “He was a Sith Lord?”

Mace needed a vacation.

“Anakin?” Feemor asked, stepping into a side office in search of Master Jinn’s wayward padawan. “Anakin are you in here?”

The room felt…familiar. Almost as though he knew the person that occupied it, though he didn’t have Knight Vos’ gift for psychometry.

At the sound of his voice, Anakin jumped back, ears bright red. Embarrassment and discomfort whirling in the Force, and Feemor was about to ask what was wrong when his eyes caught sight of a face he’d thought he’d never see again.

“Obi-Wan?”

The boy he’d intended to take as his padawan stared up at him, grey eyes wide.

Qui-Gon huffed. He’d only just landed after an extended mission and the High Council had requested his presence immediately.

What has Anakin done now? He groaned, not even bothering to fix his hair before making his way towards the council chamber.

His grandmaster’s seat was empty when he got there, and with a frown he turned to regard the scowling face of the Master of the Order.

“Qui-Gon Jinn.” Mace started, and Qui-Gon knew it was bad when he could feel the man’s rage despite Mace’s infamously strong shields. “Would you like to explain why you decided to keep the knowledge of Padawan Skywalker’s past as a slave from this council?”

Before he could answer, the councillor continued. “Or perhaps why you never bothered to have his deactivated slave chip surgically removed? Or that you left his mother behind while you absconded with her force-sensitive child?”

“Councillors—“ He began, only for Master Koon to growl at him.

“Do keep your bantha shit to yourself and answer the questions.” The tone was made even more ominous through a vocoder, and the waves of intent that poured off of the Dorian master made him shiver.

Where the kriff was Anakin?

Ani held his heart’s fire close, nose buried in strawberry blonde curls that were even softer than he’d imagined.

Master Feemor had cried when he’d come across Ben, and that’s when Anakin learned that the boy he knew had once been a jedi initiate. A jedi initiate known as Obi-Wan Kenobi who had been dismissed from the Temple early in some convoluted scheme to get his former master to take a padawan.

Master Yoda was forced to step down from his position as Grandmaster due to his part in Ben’s misfortune, and Anakin had been removed from Master Jinn’s care. When Master Windu—who Anakin had always thought was exceedingly grumpy, but looked at Ben with soft eyes—asked if he would like to return to the Order, the boy with eyes like starlight and a smile that shone brighter than any sun had declined.

The Council had accepted his decision, though Master Feemor looked particularly torn up about it. The man had been granted temporary custody of Anakin following Master Jinn’s censure though Ani hoped it wouldn’t stay temporary. He really liked Master Feemor, who’d told him to call him ‘Fee’. He laughed at Ani’s jokes, and took the time to explain things. And he made really yummy stew, and had learned how to make Ani’s favorite tea and loved Ben almost as much as he did.

Speaking of Ben, Anakin hugged the smaller boy closer. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back to the Temple?” He asked.

His heart’s fire glanced up at him, the small bead around his neck glinting as it caught the light. Petal pink lips turned into a smile, and Anakin’s tummy fluttered as the krayt dragon in it quivered with excitement. The Temple isn’t my home anymore. Was the simple response, words trailing down their bond. It hasn’t been for a while.

Biting his lip, Anakin asked a final question. “Where is your home?”

The words were spoken in Basic, instead of the Mother’s tongue, but their meaning remained the same.

Those who belonged to the Mother had short, often violent lives—their soul’s fire a small and tenuous flicker in the Force, before it went out. Their gods were small, and they had learnt how to make meaning out of their too brief lives.

The first half of an ancient custom was to ask where one’s home was.

The second…

My home is wherever you are. Was Ben’s response, cheeks tinted a soft pink and Anakin smiled.

His voice was just as beautiful as he’d imagined it.