Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cody's stomach twisted with unease.

Being assigned as the personal guard of the Prince was an honour—one he wasn’t sure he deserved. King Palpatine himself had entrusted him with the safety of his eldest son, and the weight of that responsibility sat heavy on Cody’s shoulders.

Each step toward the training room felt like a march to judgment. His boots echoed against the stone corridor, sharp and unforgiving. He focused on keeping his face composed, smoothing out the tension that wanted to knot his brow.

He paused outside the training room door, the polished wood reflecting the torchlight in soft flickers. Cody drew in a steadying breath, rose his hand, and knocked.

After a brief pause, the door creaked open.

The Prince stood on the other side, dressed simply, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "Hey," he said, swinging the door wider. "You're Cody, right? Come in."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Obi-Wan’s smile turned wry. "Just Obi-Wan, please."

Cody hesitated. “I’m afraid I can’t, Your Highness.”

The Prince frowned slightly, but turned without another word. He crossed the room to a weapons bin, grabbed two practice staffs, and tossed one to Cody.

Cody caught it instinctively, eyebrows lifting. "Your Highness?"

Obi-Wan was already stepping onto the mat, his stance clean and practiced. "I want to see what you can do," he said, twirling his staff with ease. "And it gives you a chance to see what I can’t do—just in case you ever have to save my life."

There was no arrogance in his tone, just calm practicality. Cody gave a nod and moved to mirror his stance, the weight of the staff solid in his hands. "Understood."

Cody lunged forward, staff whistling through the air in a sharp arc aimed at Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

The Prince turned smoothly, parrying the blow with a calm twist of his wrist, letting the force of Cody’s strike glance off.

“Fast,” Obi-Wan murmured, stepping back rather than retaliating, “but impatient.”

Cody struck again, then again. Rapid jabs meant to overwhelm. Obi-Wan flowed around them like water, letting each hit slide past, his own staff a ghost between them.

“You’re holding back,” Cody snapped, sweat gathering at his brow.

“I’m observing,” Obi-Wan replied, sidestepping a thrust and tapping Cody’s side with the butt of his staff, “which is harder than it looks.”

Cody feinted high, then swung low, finally catching Obi-Wan off-balance. Their staffs locked, wood against wood, and for a heartbeat, they were face to face.

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed with a spark of something. Focus, or maybe pride. He twisted, dropping into a sweep that knocked Cody’s feet out from under him.

Cody hit the mat with a grunt. He blinked up at the ceiling, breathless.

Obi-Wan stood over him, extending a hand.

Cody hesitated only a second before clasping it. The Prince’s grip was firm, warm, steady. He pulled Cody to his feet with effortless strength. For a moment, they stood close, breath mingling in the charged space between them. Obi-Wan stepped back, casual and unbothered, like the match had been nothing more than practice.

“Not bad,” Obi-Wan added with a half-smile, already turning away.

Cody gave a stiff nod, the thud of his heartbeat louder than it should’ve been. He retrieved his fallen staff and crossed to the edge of the mat. His knees bent without thought, dropping into a seated position that sent a dull ache up his spine, a reminder of the hit that had landed.

He let the staff roll from his hands and rest across his knees. The cool stone floor pressed against him, grounding. The soft sound of Obi-Wan putting away his weapon, maybe wiping down with a towel, faded into the background.

Cody stared at the mat in front of him, where just minutes ago, their weapons had collided and their feet had danced. The faint ache in his side from Obi-Wan’s sweep pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. More pride was wounded than flesh, although both stung.

Across the room, the Prince leaned against the wall, sipping from a waterskin. His auburn hair stuck to his brow in damp strands, his smile easy, his breathing steady. Like the match had been nothing more than a morning stretch.

Cody looked away.

He’s good.

Better than Cody had expected. Not just technically, though his footwork had been clean, his form refined, but it was the way he moved with purpose that stuck out to him. He never wasted a motion. He was always calculated, precise, patient.

Everything Cody wasn’t.

He wasn’t sure whether that was impressive or infuriating.

Cody exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his sweat-damp hair. The job was supposed to be simple: guard the Prince. Anticipate danger. Neutralize threats. Keep a respectful distance.

That last part already felt…complicated.

Obi-Wan pushed away from the wall and crossed the room, offering Cody the waterskin. “You don’t talk much,” he said, voice light.

Cody took it, letting their fingers brush for a half-second too long. “I don’t have much to say.”

Obi-Wan gave a soft, knowing hum. “You said a lot back there.” He motioned toward the mat.

Cody didn’t answer. He drank instead, cool water washing away some of the dryness in his throat, but none of the questions crowding his mind.

What the hell are you getting yourself into?

When he handed the waterskin back, Obi-Wan’s hand lingered briefly. Just enough.

Something passed between them. Unspoken. Unsettling. Not entirely unwelcome.

Cody stood. “Same time tomorrow?”

Obi-Wan’s smile curved, slow and sure. “Looking forward to it.”

As Cody walked away, the ache in his side dulled beneath a quieter sensation blooming somewhere behind his ribs.

~~~~~

Obi-Wan watched Cody go, the door clicking softly shut behind him. Only then did he let out the breath he’d been holding since he first let the knight in.

He hadn’t meant to enjoy that. Not the fight, not the company, and definitely not the way Cody’s fingers had lingered.

Obi-Wan scrubbed a hand through his hair, fingers catching in damp strands, then let it fall to his side with a soft exhale. The mat still held the memory of their movements. The clash of wood, the sharp breath of exertion, the tension that had nothing to do with battle.

Obi-Wan shook his head. Not smart.

Getting too close was dangerous. His father had said it more than once, always in that clipped, unyielding tone: “A protector is a blade, not a friend. Grow attached to the weapon and you'll flinch when it breaks.”

Sentiment was a liability. Affection, a crack in the armor. Dangerous for anyone, but deadly for someone living under constant threat, especially with war on the horizon.

Obi-Wan had learned early to keep his guards at arm’s length. Respect them, yes. Trust them, when he must. But never blur the line between protection and companionship. That was how princes ended up dead. Or worse, manipulated.

And yet…

That moment with locked staffs and shared breath, Cody’s steady hand pulling him up, it didn’t feel like manipulation. It felt like something else entirely.

Which made it harder to ignore.

He rolled his shoulders, chasing the ache from the match, and crossed to the window. Outside, the last blush of sunset painted the sky in gold and violet, casting long shadows through the room.

There was a soft knock at the door.

Obi-Wan turned just as it opened without waiting for permission.

Only one person ever did that.

The King stepped inside, his presence immediately thickening the air. His cloak was draped over one shoulder, fastened with a gold brooch shaped like the royal crest. Every movement was deliberate, his expression unreadable.

Obi-Wan straightened instinctively.

“Your sparring partner,” the King said, gaze sweeping the room before settling on his son. “How did he measure up?”

Obi-Wan’s throat was dry again, but he answered evenly. “He’s good. Focused. Controlled.”

The King arched a brow. “And you? Did you test him, or indulge him?”

Obi-Wan held the stare, refusing to blink. “Both.”

The King’s eyes narrowed, but he gave a curt nod. “Keep your distance.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command, veiled in that ever-neutral tone.

“Yes, Father.”

The King lingered a moment longer, as if trying to read something deeper in Obi-Wan’s face. Then, satisfied or not, he turned and left, the door closing with a quiet finality.

Obi-Wan stared after him.

Keep your distance.

He would.

He had to.

But the ghost of Cody’s hand still lingered against his palm, and he already wasn’t sure if that distance was possible.

Chapter Text

The corridor outside the Prince’s chamber was quiet, wrapped in the hush that only settled over the palace after nightfall. Torches in iron sconces flickered along the stone walls, casting long shadows that danced across the tapestries and marble. The air smelled faintly of wax and old stone, with the faintest trace of lavender drifting from beneath the Prince’s door.

Cody stood still, spine straight, eyes forward. His armor had been exchanged for lighter night-duty leathers, but the sword at his hip remained. The silence pressed in around him, dense and still. Every so often, a distant footstep echoed through the royal wing. A patrolling guard, likely. Otherwise, nothing.

No motion. No sound. Just the soft, steady rhythm of his own breath.

He shifted once, only slightly, enough to ease the tension building between his shoulder blades. The weight of the day hadn’t left him. His ribs still remembered the sweep that had knocked him to the mat. His fingers still remembered the warmth of the Prince’s hand as it pulled him up.

He clenched his jaw and forced his gaze back to neutral.

This wasn’t about that. This was about duty.

He was a shield now. A wall between the Prince and danger. He was meant to be calm, alert, unshakable. And yet… every time he let his guard down, even for a second, his thoughts drifted toward the man behind that door.

Obi-Wan.

The name alone stirred something unsteady beneath his ribs.

Cody exhaled slowly through his nose. No use letting his mind wander. He’d been trained better than that. Still, the silence gave space for thoughts he’d rather bury. The weight of this new assignment. The closeness. The unexpected way Obi-Wan had looked at him during their match, as if he were seeing more than a knight.

Cody shook his head lightly, dispelling the thought. His boots were planted. His sword was sharp. His purpose was clear.

And yet, his heart beat a little faster than it should have in the quiet dark.

He shifted his stance again, more from habit than necessity, and let his gaze sweep the corridor. No movement. No sound. Just a flicker of torchlight catching on polished stone.

Just another night.

Just another post.

And a Prince behind the door who felt far too close.

Cody’s fingers twitched at his side—barely a movement, but enough to break the stillness.

Then came the sound.

Click.

He stiffened instinctively, hand brushing the hilt at his hip, until he registered the source—the soft, unmistakable sound of the door latch easing back.

The Prince’s chamber door cracked open. Obi-Wan stood in the threshold, shirt loose around his frame, collar slightly askew. Damp strands of hair clung to his brow, catching the low torchlight. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but there was something softer about him now. Like the weight he carried during the day had slipped off his shoulders, just for a breath.

He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and regarded Cody with mild amusement. “You don’t have to stand like a statue, you know.”

Cody didn’t move. “It’s my duty, Your Highness.”

Obi-Wan brow twitched, just slightly. “Is it also your duty to freeze to death in this hallway?”

“It’s not the cold that matters,” Cody replied before he could stop himself, his voice quieter than he’d meant it to be.

Obi-Wan blinked. His mouth curved, slow and thoughtful. “Interesting answer.”

Cody shifted his weight, glancing briefly down the corridor, searching for an excuse to disengage. There was none.

“They didn’t wake you for this,” Obi-Wan said, more softly now. “Did they?”

“I don’t sleep on watch.”

“Of course you don’t,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Perfect soldier.”

There was no mockery in the words, only a quiet understanding that made them land heavier than intended.

For a moment, they stood in silence again. Then, with a faint sigh, Obi-Wan opened the door wider. “Come in. Just for a minute.”

Cody’s eyes narrowed, uncertain. “That wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“No one will see. And besides…” A beat passed. “I could use the company.”

That stopped him. Not the order, Obi-Wan hadn’t framed it as one, but the honesty behind it. There was no commanding tone, no princely expectation. Just truth. A quiet, tired confession wrapped in soft words.

After a breath too long, Cody stepped across the threshold.

He kept to the edge of the room, near the door, where shadows pooled and duty felt clearer. The chamber was warm, lit by a low fire in the hearth and the muted glow of an oil lamp near the desk. The space smelled faintly of clean linen, firewood, and something sharper. Ink, maybe. Or wine.

Obi-Wan moved to a small table by the hearth and poured a measure of deep red into two glasses. “Sit, if you like,” he offered, lifting one and glancing toward Cody.

“I’m fine standing.”

Obi-Wan didn’t push. He simply set one glass on the table between them and took a slow sip of his own. “You’re very good at walls.”

“It’s part of the job.”

Obi-Wan hummed softly, then settled into the chair closest to the fire. He sat with that effortless, almost lazy poise unique to royalty. Casual, but never careless. “What were you thinking about? Before I opened the door.”

Cody didn’t answer immediately. He watched the fire instead, letting the silence speak for him.

“Strategy.”

“Mm.” Obi-Wan’s gaze flicked toward him. “Liar.”

Cody’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

“You looked like you were somewhere else entirely,” Obi-Wan continued, not unkindly. “Not with the guards. Not even here.”

Cody’s fingers brushed the rim of the untouched glass. He didn’t drink. “You shouldn’t pry, Your Highness.”

“And you shouldn’t guard things that don’t need guarding,” Obi-Wan said, voice lower now. “Not from me.”

That silenced them both.

After a long moment, Cody stepped forward and set the untouched wine back on the table with quiet finality. “I should return to my post.”

Obi-Wan didn’t move to stop him, but his gaze followed every step. “You always follow the rules?”

“Most of them,” Cody said. Then, before he could stop himself, “The ones that matter.”

Obi-Wan’s smile curved slowly. Not smug. Just knowing. “That’s good to know.”

As Cody reached the door, hand on the handle, Obi-Wan’s voice followed him, softer than before, something brittle beneath the calm.

“It’s lonely sometimes. This place. These halls.”

Cody paused.

He didn’t turn around, didn’t answer. But his grip on the handle loosened for just a second.

“Good night, Cody,” Obi-Wan said.

A beat.

“Good night…Obi-Wan.”

He stepped out, closing the door behind him with a muted click. The warmth of the room lingered on his skin. The firelight danced behind his eyes. And the ache behind his ribs, that quiet, treacherous ache, had only grown.

~~~~~

Obi-Wan waited until the door clicked shut. And then, slowly, he exhaled.

The warmth Cody had carried with him, tension wound tight in a soldier’s spine, breath held like a secret, lingered in the room long after he’d gone. Obi-Wan stared at the door, the ghost of the knight’s voice still hanging in the air.

Good night…Obi-Wan.

The way he’d said it. Hesitant. Careful. Like stepping over a line.

Obi-Wan rubbed a thumb along the rim of his wineglass, watching the firelight curl shadows up the walls. It was supposed to be a quiet night. But now everything felt louder. Sharper. The silence was different without Sylvan in it.

He stood before he could talk himself out of it.

Crossed to the door. Opened it.

Cody was still there, only a few paces down the corridor. Rigid. Watchful. And unmistakably still shaken from the moment they’d shared.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan said softly.

The knight turned, instantly alert.

Obi-Wan didn’t smile this time. “Come back.”

There was a pause. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be alone. And I don’t think you do either.”

That seemed to catch something behind Cody’s eyes. A flicker. A breath. Then he stepped forward.

This time, when he entered, he let the door shut with no pretense. No edge-of-the-room distance. He still didn’t sit, but he stood closer. As if some of the armor had been peeled away by the dark.

Obi-Wan poured a second glass again, slower this time. “You don’t drink,” he said, not a question.

Cody gave a faint shake of his head. “Too easy to forget yourself.”

Obi-Wan took a sip from his own. “Is forgetting always a bad thing?”

Cody didn’t answer. His eyes were on the fire again.

They stood in silence for a moment, the hearth crackling softly between them.

Then Obi-Wan spoke again. “Do you have family, Cody?”

A breath passed before the knight replied. “Three younger brothers. Fives and Echo are twins. They are both twelve.” He glanced down, as if realising how long it had been since he’d said the names aloud. “The eldest, Rex, is eighteen now. They live outside the city. My father’s estate.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softened. “Do you see them often?”

“Only on holidays. Birthdays if I’m lucky.” Cody’s tone was careful. Measured. But beneath the words, there was an ache that needed no translation.

“Why so little?”

“The Crown says it’s better for them. No attachments. No distractions.” A pause. “I was sixteen when I joined the guard. Haven’t lived under the same roof since.”

Obi-Wan’s hand tightened slightly around his glass. “That’s not right.”

“It’s the cost,” Cody said simply. “And they’re happy. That’s what matters.”

Obi-Wan stepped back, leaning against the arm of the chair. “I assume you know of my younger brother,” he said, more quietly now. “Anakin, who is next in line. He’s 18.”

He smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Cody tilted his head. “You speak of him like he’s far away.”

“He is.” Obi-Wan looked into the fire. “Anakin and I don’t talk much anymore. He carries the weight now. The title. The expectation. I was adopted into the royal line, but the blood crown—” He gave a hollow laugh. “That always belonged to him.”

Cody’s voice, low and even, held no judgment. “You miss him.”

“Every day,” Obi-Wan said. Then glanced up. “Just like you do.”

They stood there, fire crackling gently between them. The wine forgotten.

“I remember,” Cody said suddenly, “Rex used to climb trees he wasn’t supposed to. Fell once. Broke his arm. I carried him a mile back to the house because he wouldn’t stop crying.” He gave a faint, humorless smile. “I got punished. Not for the fall, but for encouraging him. Apparently a knight shouldn’t coddle.”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I had only been a knight for a month,” Cody added, almost absently.

Obi-Wan set down his glass. “You were a brother.”

There was a beat.

Then Cody’s shoulders lowered, just slightly.

A quiet shift.

Obi-Wan stepped closer, careful not to crowd him. “You said earlier, that you follow the rules that matter.” He waited. “Is this one of them?”

Cody looked at him then. Really looked. The torchlight made gold of his eyes, and for a moment, the mask slipped.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly.

And that, more than anything, was the truth.

Obi-Wan didn’t press.

He only said, softer still, “Then stay. Just until the fire burns low.”

Cody hesitated. Then moved to the hearth and lowered himself onto the edge of the stone ledge, posture still disciplined, but no longer distant.

Obi-Wan took the chair beside him.

The silence settled again, warmer now. More alive.

And in the hush of the Prince’s chamber, with firelight dancing between them, neither man reached for the door again.

Chapter Text

The evening began as most did, quiet and still. The moon hung low, its light filtering softly through the tall windows of the palace. Cody stood once again at his post outside the Prince’s chamber, feeling the familiar pull of the night. The air was cool but not cold, the kind of evening that promised silence. The distant echo of palace staff going about their duties faded into nothingness, leaving only the occasional creak of the old stone beneath his boots.

But tonight, something felt different. There was an odd tension in the air, a slight unease that Cody couldn't quite place. He shifted slightly, glancing at the door to Obi-Wan’s chamber, his mind wandering.

Then, it came.

A low sound. A creak, almost imperceptible. Cody’s hand instinctively reached for his sword, his body tensing.

The sound of a footstep, quick and too light to belong to a guard. Then another, this one heavier. The unmistakable shuffle of movement behind him.

Before he could fully process, a dark figure darted toward the door. Cody’s instincts kicked in.

“Your Highness!” he shouted, drawing his sword in a fluid motion, but before he could make a move, the assassin was already upon the door, a dagger raised, ready to strike through the wood.

The first lunge was quick, aimed at the latch. Cody’s heart slammed against his chest. His mind raced, calculating his options.

With a grunt, Cody charged forward, bringing his sword down in a practiced arc. He aimed for the figure’s shoulder, a non-lethal strike meant to disarm or incapacitate.

The figure twisted, narrowly avoiding the blow. The assassin’s cloak flared, and the dagger swiped out, slashing at Cody’s arm. He grunted, stepping back to regain his balance. Faster than I thought.

The assassin spun again, but Cody was already at the door, his body pressed against it, one hand gripping the handle to keep it from opening. Behind the door, he could hear the faint sound of Obi-Wan moving, groggy but alert.

Before he could fully react, the assassin let out a low, guttural sound as he swung forward, slamming his body into the door.

Cody’s heart skipped a beat as it crashed open.

He didn’t think, he acted.

In one swift motion, Cody shoved the door open with his shoulder, knocking the assassin back. The figure staggered, caught off guard, but Cody was faster.

He raised his sword just as the assassin scrambled to regain their footing.

Before the blow could fall, the assassin’s body went still.

Cody turned to see Obi-Wan standing in the doorway, not the frightened figure Cody expected. No, Obi-Wan stood with a focused calm, a faint shadow of determination in his eyes, even if his hands shook slightly.

“You—” Obi-Wan began, his voice tinged with shock, but Cody cut him off.

“Get inside, Your Highness!” Cody barked, moving to stand between him and the assassin, his sword still raised.

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to the assassin's prone form. But then he nodded, stepping quickly into the room.

Cody’s attention snapped back to the assassin. His gaze was narrowed, his heart pounding, the adrenaline from the sudden confrontation still coursing through him. He moved forward, stepping over the fallen figure with caution. The assassin wasn’t dead, but the look on Cody’s face was a promise of that if they didn’t speak.

The assassin groaned, attempting to lift their head, but Cody placed a boot on their chest. “Who sent you?”

The figure didn’t respond immediately. Instead, their lips curled into a grimace of pain. They appeared disoriented, perhaps they weren’t expecting to be subdued so quickly.

But then they muttered something, so softly that Cody had to lean closer. “The crown that weighs heavy loses its own…” they rasped before their body slumped into unconsciousness again.

Cody stood over them, sword still in hand, trying to decipher the words. Who? Who is this for?

There was a sound behind him too close for comfort. Cody spun, hand tight on his sword, ready for anything.

But it was only Obi-Wan, standing there in his loose, rumpled shirt, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. “Is it safe?” The Prince’s tone was eerily calm.

“Yes,” Cody said tightly, his heart still racing. “It’s over. For now.”

But the words felt hollow. He had no idea how many more of these attacks might be waiting, or how deep the conspiracy went. His mind spun with possibilities.

Obi-Wan stepped closer, his eyes meeting Sylvan’s with an unsettling clarity. “I’m not going anywhere.” His words were quiet, but firm. “Not without you.”

Cody blinked, caught off guard by the directness of his tone. “Your Highness, you don’t understand—”

“No. You don’t understand.” Obi-Wan’d gaze softened, and despite the tension, there was a quiet urgency in his eyes. “We need to get to the bottom of this. You’re not leaving me out here alone.”

Cody’s throat tightened. It was one of the rarer times when he could see the truth in Obi-Wan’s eyes, not just the weight of his royal duties, but something more personal. Something vulnerable. Something human.

“I’ll protect you,” Cody said, voice barely a whisper, unsure whether it was a promise or a plea.

Obi-Wan’s lips pressed together, and after a beat, he stepped forward, a soft but decisive gesture that shook Cody to his core. “Then stay with me. Please.”

Cody’s heart pounded in his chest. The door had been opened, no longer just to the assassin, but to the possibility of something deeper between them.

And this time, Cody didn’t turn it away.

~~~~~

Obi-Wan’s eyes locked on Cody’s arm, a deep, bleeding cut where the assassin had slashed him. The wound wasn’t severe, but it was enough to make his stomach twist with concern.

“Your arm,” Obi-Wan said softly, his voice trembling slightly, though he tried to mask it with calm. “You didn’t say anything.”

Cody paused, his brow furrowing slightly as if he’d only just realised the extent of the injury. His gaze flickered to his arm, and then he met Obi-Wan’s eyes with a curt shake of his head. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, his tone dismissive, though the sharpness of his words couldn’t mask the hint of strain in his voice. “I’ve had worse.”

Obi-Wan stepped closer, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. He reached out, his fingers hovering over the wound, hesitant but determined. “Don’t downplay it,” he said, his voice low, but firm. “You should have said something. You’re bleeding.”

Cody looked as though he might protest again, but the silence that followed spoke volumes. Obi-Wan could see the exhaustion etched on Cody’s face. Just beneath the guarded exterior, there was a subtle, undeniable weariness.

He moved to the small wooden table near the corner of the room, grabbing a cloth and a vial of healing ointment. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for something like this. Without waiting for Cody to object, he moved back toward him, his hands already working to clean the wound.

“Hold still,” Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his voice steady as he dabbed at the cut with the cloth. He glanced up to find Cody watching him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.

“I’m fine,” Cody said again, though this time his voice lacked its usual force. His eyes darted down to where Obi-Wan was carefully pressing the cloth against his arm. There was a slight tremor to his touch, but he didn’t pull away.

Obi-Wan exhaled slowly, keeping his focus on the task at hand, though his mind was racing. What had just happened? What were they dealing with? It was clear now that the attack wasn’t random, not with the words the assassin had whispered before passing out.

“This won’t be the last attempt,” Obi-Wan murmured, his voice distant, as though the thought had been bubbling at the edges of his mind since the moment the assassin had crashed through the door. “Not with the way they came at me. There’s a plan here. A purpose.”

Cody’s gaze softened, but only just. “You’re right, and it won’t be so easy next time, either. Whoever’s behind this will keep coming.” He seemed to hesitate, his expression flickering, as though weighing his next words carefully. “We need to be ready.”

Obi-Wan met his gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t need Cody to tell him that. He’d felt it, too. The danger closing in, the threat looming over them both.

“I’m not running away from this,” Obi-Wan said, his voice quiet but resolute. “I won’t hide while you face the danger of whatever comes next.”

Cody didn’t respond immediately, but his expression softened, the tension in his features loosening slightly. “I never expected you to.” He straightened up slightly, his hand resting on the edge of the table. “I half expected you to try and fight the assassin yourself, instead of going back inside.”

A faint smile tugged at Obi-Wan’s lips, though it felt out of place given the gravity of their situation. Still, the vulnerability Cody had shown in the heat of the moment, the way he’d acted instinctively to protect him, stayed with him. It was something deeper, something that couldn’t easily be ignored. Not now.

Obi-Wan finished cleaning the wound, applying a thin layer of ointment. “There,” he said softly, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “You should rest. You’ve done enough for one night.”

Cody glanced down at his arm, the cut now neatly bandaged, before his gaze drifted back to Obi-Wan. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The room felt smaller somehow, the distance between them charged with an unspoken understanding.

Finally, Cody spoke, his voice quieter than before. “You’re not alone in this either, Your Highness.”

Obi-Wan’s heart skipped a beat at the words, and for a moment, the weight of the evening seemed to lift, if only slightly. He nodded, a quiet affirmation of the bond that was forming between them. The danger wasn’t over, far from it. But in that moment, with the tension between them finally breaking, Obi-Wan knew one thing for sure: they weren’t facing whatever came next alone. Not anymore.

“Then stay,” Obi-Wan said, his voice a whisper now, barely more than a plea.

Cody hesitated for just a heartbeat longer than Obi-Wan had hoped, but then, he nodded. “Only because your door is broken.”

Chapter Text

The morning light filtered through the towering windows of the throne room, casting long shadows on the cold, stone floor. The room, imposing in its scale, felt even more vast when Obi-Wan stood before his father. The weight of the crown was never his to bear, and yet, he could feel its presence pressing on his shoulders, invisible but constant.

His father’s gaze, sharp as ever, met Obi-Wan’s as the doors to the throne room closed behind him. Obi-Wan had been summoned in haste, and his father wasted no time on pleasantries.

“You were nearly assassinated last night,” the King said, his tone even, detached, almost as if he were speaking of some minor inconvenience. “And yet your concern seems not for your safety, but for your protector.”

Obi-Wan blinked, the coldness of his father’s words striking him like a physical blow. “Cody saved my life,” he said, his voice steady but his heart pounding in his chest. “Without him, I wouldn’t be here.”

The King’s eyes flickered, an unreadable expression passing over his face. He leaned forward slightly, fingers tightening around the armrests of his throne. “Saved your life,” he repeated, as though the words themselves were distasteful. “Tell me, Obi-Wan—how many more saved lives will you risk on his account?” His voice dropped, a subtle but unmistakable bite to his words. “What if it was Anakin? The assassin made it way too far into our grounds.”

“The assassin’s intent was to kill me”, Obi-Wan said. “I don’t know why they didn’t want Anakin, but—“

“Enough”, The King said. “Anakin’s safety is my utmost priority. The only reason you have a personal guard is because your death would drag us into this war. If it were up to me, all knight’s focus would be on Anakin. After all, he’s the crown prince, not you. I’ve told you to remember your place.”

Obi-Wan’s throat tightened at the jab, but he kept his expression neutral. He had long since grown used to his father's jabs about his adoption. The reminder was always there, just beneath the surface. His blood was not the same as Anakin’s, his lineage not pure enough for the throne.

“Cody is loyal to me, Father. His actions were that of duty. Nothing more,” Obi-Wan said, forcing the words out, his jaw clenched to keep from showing the anger that stirred in him.

The King’s gaze narrowed. “Loyalty. A fine trait for a knight. But the game your knight is playing? That is dangerous.” His lips curled into a thin smile, a smile that felt more like a sneer than anything resembling affection. “That’s the problem with men like him. They’re nothing but tools, Obi-Wan. Weapons.”

Obi-Wan’s fists clenched at his sides, though his voice remained calm. “Cody is more than a weapon.”

“Is he?” The King’s lips curled into a tight smile, as though humoring him. “Then what is he, son?” The word lingered in the air with a weight of its own, a sharp contrast to the affection he had for Anakin. “Tell me, what makes a soldier like him anything more than a tool? An instrument of the crown. A weapon. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The words felt like a blow, but Obi-Wan refused to let his frustration show. “He’s my friend, Father,” he said, quieter now, almost cautiously. “He’s loyal to me. Not the crown, not the throne, but me.”

The King’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “Friend? Is that what you call it?” His voice was low, each word deliberate. “I’ll remind you, Obi-Wan, you are not the crown prince. Anakin is. And as such, the future of this kingdom depends on him. On his strength, on his alliances, and on his ability to lead, not on some soldier you have taken a personal interest in. You will not—cannot—allow yourself to be distracted by affections.”

Obi-Wan’s throat tightened. He had heard his father say it all before, but hearing it again felt like being caught in a trap he couldn’t escape. The reminder stung each time, though he knew the truth of it. Anakin was the heir, and Obi-Wan was nothing more than an adopted son, one who had been taken in out of pity, or perhaps some misplaced sense of obligation. He wasn’t flesh and blood. He wasn’t part of the royal line.

Anakin, with his easy confidence and unflinching belief in his future, stood in sharp contrast to Obi-Wan’s quiet determination. The King didn’t need to speak it out loud, everyone could see it. Anakin was the future, while Obi-Wan was a mere reflection of the past, an adopted son trying to forge a place in a world that never saw him as whole.

“I understand,” Obi-Wan said, the words slipping out more easily than he would have liked.

The King’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You are the spare, Obi-Wan. And it’s time you understood your place. You will never be one of us. You’re not blood, not heir. You are a shadow. And shadows cannot lead. This family has a weight to bear, one that must be carried with absolute focus, without distraction. Do not confuse loyalty for attachment. You owe nothing to Cody, except your gratitude for his duty to you. That is the extent of it.”

Obi-Wan didn’t respond immediately. He felt the bitter taste of his father’s words linger, but he held his tongue. What could he say? That his heart didn’t work the way his father wanted? That he cared for Cody, not as a weapon, but as something more? He couldn’t say that, not here, not now.

“Do you understand me, Obi-Wan?” the King pressed.

“I understand,” Obi-Wan repeated, but this time, the words felt hollow, a mere echo of what he truly felt. The weight of them lingered in the silence, a promise of obedience that Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he could keep.

King Palpatine studied him, the silence stretching between them, as if weighing him. Then, after a long pause, he spoke again, his voice colder than ever.

“Good. Then perhaps you’ll see to it that this—thing—with Cody is kept in its proper place. His loyalty is useful, but don’t mistake it for anything else. A soldier’s place is to serve. Not to lead.” He let the words sink in, before adding, “You’ll see to it, won’t you?”

Obi-Wan nodded stiffly, though the words burned in his chest. He wouldn’t be able to let go of what he shared with Cody, not easily. But he knew, deep down, that if he was to survive here, in his father’s world, he’d have to make a choice.

The King’s voice broke his reverie. “You’ll be in charge of securing the palace’s defenses, Obi-Wan. I expect no more surprises.” His tone was final, as if dismissing him from the conversation altogether.

“Yes, Father,” Obi-Wan said quietly, his heart heavy with the weight of his father’s expectations, and with the burden of knowing that no matter what he chose, it would never be enough. He turned to leave, but the King’s voice stopped him once again.

“And Obi-Wan,” the King called, the hint of disdain still lingering. “Don’t forget your place again.”

Obi-Wan’s chest tightened, but he didn’t turn back. He didn’t have to. His father’s words had already carved a permanent mark inside him.

As he left the throne room, the weight of his adoption felt heavier than ever, the King’s subtle reminder always at the back of his mind. He wasn’t the true son, the true heir. Just a shadow. A shadow standing beside the crown, forever beneath it.

The cold stone floor beneath his boots seemed to echo his every step, as though the castle itself was trying to rid itself of him. The distant sound of the wind howling outside was a reminder of the storm he was trapped in, a storm that had nothing to do with the elements, and everything to do with the world his father had created for him.

And Cody? Auryn couldn’t shake the feeling that the one person who had ever treated him as more than a shadow, more than a prince, was the one person his father would never accept.

But Obi-Wan wasn’t ready to let go of that.

Not yet.

~~~~~

The halls of the palace were eerily quiet when Cody made his way toward the courtyard. He had grown used to the silence, but today it felt sharper, like the air itself was holding its breath. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he saw Obi-WN again, but he had already spent the day wondering about the prince’s state of mind after the attempt on his life.

He wasn’t supposed to care this much. It wasn’t his place. He was a knight, a soldier, nothing more. And yet, when his thoughts drifted to Obi-Wan, a certain weight pressed against his chest. It wasn’t the duty of a knight that made his heart ache, nor was it his loyalty to the crown. It was something deeper, more complicated. Something Cody hadn’t quite figured out.

He rounded the corner, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his sword as he moved through the hallway. The guards were at their posts, but he didn’t expect to see anyone else. Not here, not now.

But then he saw Obi-Wan.

The prince’s figure appeared in the doorway ahead, his back straight and shoulders stiff as if he had just left the throne room. His face, usually calm, looked strained. Cody couldn’t place it, but something in the prince’s eyes told him that the weight of the world had just been added to his already heavy burden.

Obi-Wan’s gaze flicked toward him, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Cody felt the familiar pang of anxiety in his chest. Was Obi-Wan angry? Was he still shaken from last night? He wasn’t sure how to approach him, how to bridge the distance that had always existed between them, especially now that they had crossed a new threshold of unspoken understanding. They were more than just knight and prince, but how much more?

Obi-Wan finally broke the silence, his voice low and distant, like it had been drained of warmth. “Cody.”

The sound of his name, spoken in that quiet, measured tone, sent a strange chill through Cody’s bones. He didn’t know how to answer, didn’t know what was expected of him in this moment. He wasn’t supposed to care for the prince like this. Not with everything at stake. Not when his place was clearly defined by duty, by hierarchy.

Still, the words slipped out before he could stop them. “Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched, a slight attempt at a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The expression felt rehearsed, forced. It was the same mask Obi-Wan always wore, the one that hid his vulnerability from the world. Cody wondered, not for the first time, if it was a mask he had learned to wear for his father, or one that had been sewn into him long before Cody ever entered his life.

“I’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan replied, the words empty, like a promise he didn’t believe. “I just needed to clear my head.”

Cody nodded, unsure of how to continue. The space between them felt vast now, like the invisible walls that separated them had grown taller and thicker with each passing second.

“Did your father…?” Cody began, but he trailed off, not wanting to press. He knew better than anyone what it was like to live under the King’s gaze. To feel the weight of expectations bearing down on you, suffocating any notion of autonomy.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered with a fleeting moment of discomfort. His hands tightened around the leather straps of his gloves, and Cody could see the strain in his posture, in the way his shoulders seemed to sag with an invisible weight.

“It was nothing,” Obi-Wan said, his voice betraying him. “Just his usual.”

Cody wasn’t fooled. He knew well enough to recognize the signs of someone who had been wounded. Emotionally, at least. But from what Cody could tell, Obi-Wan had never been one to open up. It was one of the things Cody had always admired about him: his resilience, his ability to endure. And yet, it made Cody want to push through the prince’s walls even more, to find a crack, some way to understand what lay beneath the carefully composed surface.

But he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, watching Obi-Wan, waiting for something—anything—that might break the silence between them.

Finally, Cody spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “If you need to talk, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze flickered briefly to Cody’s face, and in that instant, Cody caught a glimpse of something raw and unspoken. But just as quickly, Obi-Wan looked away, as though the moment had never happened.

“I know,” Obi-Wan said, his voice softer now, though still distant. “But not yet. Maybe not ever.”

And with that, Obi-Wan turned away, his footsteps echoing in the silence as he disappeared around the corner, leaving Cody standing in the hallway, his chest tight with a thousand unsaid words.

Chapter Text

Cody adjusted the hilt of his sword, his fingers tightening as he approached the far end of the corridor. The polished steel of his weapon reflected the dim torchlight, casting strange shadows across the stone walls. His eyes tracked Prince Anakin, who moved down the hall with his usual arrogance, as though the entire kingdom’s fate rested in his easy stride.

Anakin’s gaze flicked up, catching Cody’s approach. “Cody, right?” He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “What is it? You look like you’ve swallowed a shard of glass, and this heightened security doesn’t exactly lift the mood.”

“You haven’t heard, Your Highness?” Cody asked. “There’s been an attempt on Prince Obi-Wan’s life.”

Anakin froze. The calm that had so often defined him faltered, his brows knitting together in a rare flash of concern. He stepped closer, his tone sharpening. “What happened?”

Cody glanced over his shoulder, his mind racing. “A small, coordinated strike. It was only one person. I stopped them before they could get to him, but it’s clear someone’s still targeting him. The palace is on high alert.”

Anakin’s face darkened, though his royal composure held fast. He took a deep breath, eyes flicking briefly toward the courtyard as though he could already hear his brother’s name in the wind. But then his gaze returned to Cody, guarded but intrigued. “And what does that mean for me?”

Cody’s grip on his sword hilt tightened. The words felt foreign, strange even, but there was no room to soften them. “It means you need to speak to him, Your Highness. He’s been asking about you. I think you both need to talk.”

Anakin’s jaw clenched, something flickering in his eyes. Perhaps regret, or reluctance. His voice dropped, almost to himself. “I know, and I want to, but there’s always something.”

Cody took a step forward, lowering his tone, but not letting the weight of the situation slip away. “I know it’s not easy, but it’s past time, Your Highness. Whatever’s between you two, it’s time to bridge the gap. Before it’s too late.”

Anakin’s gaze flicked to the floor, his mind visibly turning over the words. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to say to him.”

Cody’s voice was quiet but firm. “Just speak the truth. Tell him you care.” He paused, adding, “He misses you more than you realize.”

Anakin’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might say something more. But then he turned sharply, shoulders stiff. “I’ll consider it,” he said curtly. “But right now, I’ve got a meeting to attend to.”

Cody nodded, stepping back. “Of course, Your Highness.” He waited a beat before adding, “But don’t wait too long.”

Anakin paused at the door, his back to Cody. “Thank you for protecting him, Cody.”

Cody nodded. “It is my duty, Your Highness.”

With that, Anakin left without another word, his figure disappearing into the depths of the castle.

~~~~~

The sound of footsteps echoed down the long corridor. Anakin appeared in the doorway of Obi-Wan’s chambers, his face tense but with a flicker of something softer in his eyes.

"Obi-Wan”, Anakin said, his voice betraying his anxiety.

Obi-Wan, who had been staring out the window, turned slowly, his expression guarded. "Anakin," he said, the name more a formality than a greeting. "What is it?"

Anakin hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering to the floor before meeting his brother’s eyes. "I just wanted to check on you after the other night. I heard what happened. Are you alright?"

Obi-Wan stiffened, his back to the window as if he wanted to block out the world entirely. "As much as I can be," he said, the words clipped, but not harsh. "Why are you here, Anakin?"

"I already said why," Anakin replied quickly, taking a step closer but still keeping a careful distance between them. "I don’t know what’s going on, but I know something’s wrong. You’ve been keeping your distance, and I can’t help but wonder why."

The words hung in the air like smoke, thick with uncertainty. Obi-Wan met his brother’s gaze, but there was no warmth in his eyes, only the cool edge of years of loneliness and silence. "Distance?" he repeated, as if tasting the word. "I’ve been trying to talk to you, Anakin. Every time, you’re off with Father, attending to another meeting, going off to some far kingdom. And when you’re not, I send letters, but I get nothing in return. Not a single word."

Anakin blinked, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration. "Letters? What do you mean, letters? I never got any letters, Obi-Wan. I’ve sent you letters and have gotten nothing back."

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed, his voice rising in disbelief. "You’ve been sending letters?" He felt a sinking pit form in his stomach. "I thought you were the one cutting me off. So all this time, it’s been him?"

Anakin’s brow furrowed in turn, his confusion deepening. "Him? Who?"

"Our father," Obi-Wan said bitterly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "He’s the one who controls the letters. The page hands everything to him first, before it ever reaches us. I thought you were deliberately keeping me at arm’s length, but no. It’s him. Father’s the one who’s been cutting me off."

Anakin stepped back, his mind racing as the pieces began to fall into place. "No, that’s not possible. I mean, I do hand the letters straight to Dad, but he’s the one who told me to send them."

Obi-Wans eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of suspicion passing through him. "Don’t you think it’s strange that he’s the one sending and receiving the letters instead of us? He doesn’t care about me, Anakin. He never has."

Anakin’s face was etched with confusion, but also the beginnings of something darker, something like realisation. He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t understand, Obi-Wan,” he murmured. “What would Father want with our letters? If he truly wanted to keep us apart, why would he let me send them in the first place?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, an edge of bitterness in his voice. “Because he knows you’ll never question him. He’s been playing us both for fools, Anakin. He wants control over you, over me, over everything. And the letters, they’re just one way to keep us separated, to make sure we don’t talk. We don’t compare notes. We don’t figure out what’s really going on.”

Anakin seemed to wrestle with the thought, his brow furrowing deeply. “But why? What does he gain from it? If he truly didn’t care about you, why keep you around at all?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, staring at the floor. His thoughts were swirling, too many unanswered questions chasing each other in his mind. “It’s not about me, Anakin. It’s about control. Maybe he thinks I’ll be a threat to you. Or maybe he just likes the idea of keeping us apart. You, the perfect son, the one who will be king, and me, the one who doesn’t belong, the one who’ll always be second.”

Anakin’s face softened slightly, but there was an unmistakable tension in his eyes. He stepped closer to Obi-Wan, lowering his voice. “That’s not true. You’re my brother, no matter what Dad says.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth tightened, the words caught in his throat. “I don’t think he sees it that way,” he said quietly. “And if he’s willing to manipulate us this far, what else is he doing? What else are we missing?”

Anakin seemed to consider this, his gaze distant as though trying to piece together the puzzle in his mind. “I don’t know. I’ve always trusted Dad. I never questioned him before. But now…” He trailed off, a quiet frustration creeping into his words. “Why would he push us so far apart? You said it yourself, we hardly see each other. And when we do, it’s like we’re strangers.”

Obi-Wan’s lips curled into a faint, cynical smile. “Because he’s afraid of us, Anakin. Maybe not you, but me, certainly. You’re the one who can take the throne. He’s been grooming you for this, and I’m just a shadow, lingering in the background. A reminder of the family he never wanted, a symbol of something he can’t control.”

Anakin’s face darkened, guilt creeping in. “I never meant to make you feel like that. I’ve been so caught up in everything. The meetings, the kingdom.”

“Don’t apologize,” Obi-Wan said, his voice unexpectedly sharp. “You have no reason to. You were just doing what he told you to do. And I tried to understand, I did, but the truth is that I’ve always been on my own in this place.”

Anakin stepped forward again, his voice low and earnest. “You’re not alone, Obi-Wan. You’re not. I swear, I’ll figure this out. We’ll figure this out. We’ll find a way to get the truth.”

Obi-Wan met his brother’s gaze, and for the first time in a long while, there was a flicker of hope in his chest. Maybe they could change things. Maybe they could finally break free from the suffocating grip of their father’s control.

But then Anakin glanced toward the door, his expression hardening as the sound of footsteps approached. He let out a soft, reluctant sigh. “I have to go,” he said, his voice a little tight. “Father will want me in the council chamber soon. You know how it is.”

Obi-Wan nodded, ignoring the heaviness in his chest. He’d gotten used to this, Anakin leaving before anything could be resolved. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit of reassurance. At least for once, Anakin wasn’t just leaving without a word.

“Promise me you’ll keep in touch,” Obi-Wan said, his voice quieter now. “No more silence. No more waiting for letters we know we’ll never get.”

Anakin hesitated for only a moment before nodding firmly. “I promise, Obi-Wan. I swear it. We’ll find a way.”

Obi-Wan watched his brother go, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. Maybe they were still trapped in this royal web, but at least, for the first time in years, they were in it together.

~~~~~

Cody paused in the doorway, his hand still on the doorframe as he observed Obi-Wan for a moment. The prince stood by the window, his posture stiff but not rigid. It was more like someone who had learned to hold himself together after too many years of disappointment. There was something different about him, though. Obi-Wan didn’t seem as burdened as he usually did, especially within these last few days.

"You seem lighter than usual," Cody remarked, his voice quieter than normal as he stepped fully into the room. He kept his tone casual, but he couldn’t help the flicker of curiosity in his chest. He’d come to care about the Prince more than he had expected. In such a short time, their relationship had shifted from mere duty to something more genuine, more complicated. And it seemed that today, Obi-Wan had something to share.

Obi-Wan turned slowly, his face a bit more relaxed than Cody was used to seeing. But there was still a trace of tension in his expression, a quiet storm behind those pale blue eyes. “Anakin and I, we made up,” he said, his voice soft. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Cody nodded, fighting a smile. He didn’t dare mention the fact that it was under his suggestion. He didn’t press for more, either. He could feel that something had changed, something unspoken, but he waited. He knew Obi-Wan needed space, needed time to sort through his feelings before he would speak freely. But when Obi-Wan did, it came in bursts, as if he was still learning how to trust. And Cody was patient, he’d been raised to be.

Obi-Wan sighed deeply, his gaze dropping to the floor as he spoke again, the words coming out more rushed, more heated. "We’ve both been trying to reach each other. All this time, sending letters, trying to make contact, but none of them ever reached us. It was Father—he’s been controlling everything."

Cody’s breath caught in his chest. He had suspected that the King was involved in keeping Obi-Wan isolated, especially with how closed off Obi-Wan was after his last talk with him, but hearing it confirmed like this made a bitter knot tighten in his gut. He was angry on Obi-Wan’s behalf, even though he knew better than to show it. Still, he felt a flicker of something rise inside him. Protectiveness, something deeper than duty.

Obi-Wan’s voice had taken on a sharp edge now, as though the weight of the revelation was pressing down on him, making it harder to breathe. "I thought Anakin was avoiding me. I thought I wasn’t good enough, just a shadow in his life, in our father’s life. But it’s always been him. Father’s the one keeping us apart."

Cody watched him carefully. It hurt, really, watching Obi-Wan wear that expression. That deep, heavy sadness that had settled into his bones over the years. Cody could see it, clearer than anyone else could. Obi-Wan didn’t believe in his own worth. He didn’t think he mattered, and that hurt. The Prince had been through too much already, far too much for someone so young. And yet, despite the doubts that haunted him, there was a fire in Obi-Wan, something fierce and unyielding. Cody could see that, too. But that self-doubt gnawed at him, and Cody hated it.

"You are not a burden," Cody said, his voice firm, but not harsh. He moved closer, his boots quiet on the stone floor. Obi-Wan was looking at the floor, but Cody could feel the weight of his thoughts. The self-loathing that lingered there, thick like smoke. "You’ve never been a burden to anyone, least of all to Anakin."

Obi-Wan shook his head, his shoulders tense as he turned away again, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "How would you know? You haven’t even met him. And you don’t understand, either. He’s the crown prince. He’s the one who has it all, the one with the future, with the title. I’m just the spare. The one who’s not really wanted." The words hung heavy in the air, and Cody’s heart clenched at the rawness in them.

There it was again, the way Obi-Wan had a habit of diminishing himself. He downplayed his own importance like it was nothing, as if he were just some insignificant pawn on a chessboard. It made Cody’s chest ache. He’d come to understand Obi-Wan in ways few people ever would. Despite his noble blood, despite the titles that might someday be his, Obi-Wan truly saw himself as nothing more than a shadow.

Cody sighed quietly, his gaze softening as he stepped up beside Obi-Wan. He wanted to reach out, to do something to show him that he wasn’t alone. But he knew better than to rush it. The bond they were forming was still new, still fragile. So, instead, he just stood next to him, his presence a quiet but steady comfort.

"You’re not ‘the spare,’ Obi-Wan," Cody said, his voice steady and sure. "And you never have been. You belong, whether you believe it or not." He paused, letting the words sink in. "Anakin might have the title, but that doesn’t make him more important than you. You matter."

Obi-Wan’s laugh was dry, almost bitter, and it scraped across Cody’s nerves. "I don’t know if I can believe that anymore."

It wasn’t the first time Obi-Wan had said something like that, this feeling of being alone, of not belonging, but it still made Cody’s chest tighten with frustration. It wasn’t right. He wasn’t right to think so little of himself. Cody couldn’t stand it.

He reached out then, just a light touch on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, grounding him, reminding him that someone was there.

"You don’t have to figure all of this out in one go," Cody said, his voice softer now, less forceful. "Just don’t forget that you’ve got people who care about you. You’ve got me, and you’ve got Anakin, so don’t push us away because of what your father’s done. You deserve more than that."

Obi-Wan looked up at him then, his face softening just a fraction, though there was still a deep wariness in his eyes. "I don’t know, Cody. It’s hard. After everything, after so many years of it, I don’t know how to trust that things can really change."

Cody nodded slowly, understanding the fear that lay beneath the words. "Trust takes time, Obi-Wan. And it’s not easy, especially after everything you’ve been through. But you can trust me. You’re not alone in this." His voice lowered, almost a whisper now. "I swear, you’re not."

Obi-Wan’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly, as if Cody’s words were a weight lifted, just a little. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, a gesture that spoke volumes despite how subtle it was.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence comfortable, a quiet understanding between them. Cody felt the tension in Obi-Wan’s posture begin to ease, though he knew it would take time for the young man to believe in his own worth.

Still, he was willing to wait. He would stay by his side, even if it took years for Obi-Wan to see it himself.

Chapter Text

Cody stood in the quiet of the prince’s chambers, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Three days had passed since he last talked to Obi-Wan, outside of what was considered duty. Three long days of of silence where once there had been easy camaraderie. Three days ago Obi-Wan told him about Anakin, but that was it. Silence moments after.

At first, Cody had told himself it was the aftermath of the assassination attempt, the prince retreating into himself for recovery. But now, the absence felt intentional. Obi-Wan was avoiding him.

The door to the chambers creaked open, and Cody turned. Obi-Wan stepped in, his eyes cast downward, hands fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve in a manner that made Cody’s chest tighten. The prince’s posture was stiff, his movements rigid, and something in his expression felt off, like a mask that didn’t quite fit.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody said, his voice low, trying to sound casual, even though the knot in his stomach grew tighter with each passing second. "What’s going on? You’ve been distant."

Obi-Wan didn’t meet his gaze. His eyes remained fixed on the stone floor beneath him, like he was trying to avoid everything. The silence hung between them for a moment, thick and oppressive. “I’ve been busy,” he replied quietly, his voice flat, lacking the usual warmth Cody had come expect.

Cody stepped closer, though he kept his distance, unwilling to push too hard. “It’s more than that. You’ve been avoiding me.”

The prince flinched slightly, as though the words had stung him. But he didn’t respond right away. His jaw tightened, and Cody could see the effort it took for him to stand still, to not retreat further.

“It’s nothing, Cody. I have things to do,” Obi-Wan said, his voice colder now, more strained, like he was forcing the words out.

Cody frowned, the confusion deepening. "It’s not nothing. You’ve been acting different." He hesitated, then added, “If it’s about the assassination attempt, I thought we talked about it. I thought you were okay.”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders tensed at the mention of the attempt. His eyes flickered to Cody, but the gaze was distant, closed off.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said, his voice sharper now, almost defensive. “I just don’t have time for this. For—” He stopped, cutting himself off abruptly, as if the words had been too much to speak aloud.

Cody’s heart sank. This wasn’t right. Something was off, and it wasn’t just the prince's withdrawal. There was something deeper at play, something he didn’t understand. He took another step forward, his voice softening despite the rising frustration. “Obi-Wan, please. What’s really going on? If you’re upset, if something’s wrong—"

“I said I’m fine,” Obi-Wan snapped, his voice suddenly hard, the edge cutting through the room like a blade. The abruptness of it shocked Cody into silence. Obi-Wan’s eyes met his, and there was a coldness there, something more than just distance. It was the unmistakable look of someone pushing away, of someone who had already decided they were done.

Cody felt his throat tighten, but he refused to back down. “I’m not going anywhere, Obi-Wan. If you’re hurting—”

“I don’t need anything from you.” Obi-Wan’s voice was low, but the force of it hit Cody like a physical blow. He took another step back, his expression hardening. “You’re just a tool, Cody. Don’t forget that. A soldier. That’s all you are to me.”

Cody froze. The words stung more than he expected, more than he could’ve prepared for. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Obi-Wan was looking at him now with a coldness that seemed like an ocean between them, an impenetrable wall that Cody couldn’t break through.

The prince’s gaze flickered briefly toward the door, and then, with a voice drained of all emotion, Obi-Wan spoke again. “Just go away.”

Cody stood there for a long moment, his heart hammering in his chest. The finality of those words echoed in his ears, and he could feel his entire body tighten with the sting of rejection. He wanted to argue, wanted to demand answers, but something in Obi-Wan’s eyes told him it was pointless. The prince had already shut him out, already made the decision.

With a slow, heavy sigh, Cody nodded, his chest tight with a mix of hurt and confusion. He turned and walked toward the door, the weight of the prince’s dismissal pressing down on him with each step.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Cody stood in the hall for a long moment, staring at the wood, at the emptiness of the space beyond. He didn’t know what had changed between them. He didn’t understand why Obi-Wan had pushed him away.

But it hurt, more than he wanted to admit. For the first time since they’d met, Cody wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to get through to the prince again.

~~~~~

The silence after Cody left the room stretched long, but it wasn’t comforting. It never was. The emptiness of the space felt like a constant weight on his chest, pressing him down, reminding him of what he had just done. The door clicking shut had been the final sound—the final act—but it echoed in his ears as if it were the start of something far worse than he’d been prepared for.

He couldn’t breathe.

Obi-Wan paced back and forth, his boots heavy on the stone floor, though his movements felt strangely weightless, as though he were untethered. What had he done? He had pushed Cody away, cut him down with nothing more than cold words and a wall of ice. He had forced himself to speak those words. And yet, they had left his mouth with the sting of a cut of a blade.

The king’s orders still rang in his ears, a constant drumbeat, an unyielding echo, and he hated it. Hated that the king had forced him treat Cody that way, hated the part of him that had allowed it to sink in. Hated how easy it had been to break the trust that had been building between them. Cody wasn’t just a knight. He wasn’t just a weapon or a shield.

But Obi-Wan had said it anyway, and now, there was no going back.

The door to his chambers opened with a sudden, sharp creak, and Cody stepped in again, his silhouette dark against the low light filtering through the window. Obi-Wan’s heart slammed against his ribs. He froze, his pulse quickening. He hadn’t expected Cody to return. Not after the way he’d dismissed him.

But here he was, standing in the doorway, his gaze fixed on Obi-Wan like a challenge, a question without words.

"Do you really mean it?" Cody’s voice cut through the air like a blade, low and demanding, but with something else beneath it. Something broken.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He had nothing to say that would make it better. Nothing that could undo the hurt in Cody’s eyes. He wanted to take it back. Every word. Every action. But the king’s voice rang louder in his mind, and the choice was not his own.

“Yes,” he said finally, though the word tasted like ash in his mouth. “I mean it. You’re just a tool, Cody. A soldier. Nothing more.” The words felt false as soon as they left his lips. They clung to him like a lie, heavy and suffocating.

Cody’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Bullshit,” he spat, his voice rough. “That’s not what you really think, Obi-Wan, and you know it.”

A flare of frustration shot through Obi-Wan. He spun to face Cody, fists trembling at his sides. “I don’t have a choice! You think I want this? You think I want to be like this, to push you away?” His voice cracked with the weight of his own self-loathing. “I can’t feel anything for you. I can’t.” He stopped, clamping his mouth shut, as if he could un-say the words.

Cody’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering there. He stepped forward, his voice sharp. “What is going on, Obi-Wan? Why are you acting like this?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, his throat tight. He wanted to scream, to tell Cody everything, but he knew what that would cost. The king’s orders had been clear. There was no room for feelings in this. There was no space for Obi-Wan to care about the man who had saved his life, who had stood by his side with no hesitation, despite them only meeting recently. Nothing mattered except what the king demanded.

Cody was stepping closer now, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan. “You’re lying to me,” he said quietly, his voice raw. “There’s something you’re not telling me, something you’re hiding. I know you, Obi-Wan. I know when you’re lying, and right now, I can’t even see you. So tell me. What the hell is going on?”

Obi-Wan staggered backward, the words like a physical blow. The pressure in his chest was unbearable, the conflict inside him tearing at him, forcing him to the edge of something he couldn’t control. He was breaking, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice thin, trembling. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of Cody standing there hurt, confused, betrayed. “You have to leave. Please.” He spoke the words through clenched teeth, but there was no real conviction behind them. He wanted to grab Cody, pull him close, and apologize for everything. But the king’s orders—those damn orders—held him in place.

Cody’s breath hitched. “What do you mean, you can’t? Why can’t you tell me, Obi-Wan?”

The prince’s eyes snapped open, locking onto Cody’s. For a moment, everything stood still. He saw the pain in Cody’s eyes, the pain he had caused, and it shattered him. He couldn’t keep running, couldn’t keep pretending.

Obi-Wan’s voice cracked as the truth spilled from him, raw and uncontrollable. “The King...” He paused, his throat tight, but he couldn’t stop. Not anymore. “The king told me to treat you like a tool. Nothing more. He said I couldn’t care for you. That you were just another weapon, just another knight to use and discard. And I don’t have a choice, Cody. I can’t...” His voice broke on the last word, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

Cody stood there, stunned, his gaze unwavering. But then, as the silence stretched, Obi-Wan’s eyes began to burn. The truth, raw and jagged, sank into his chest like an anchor.

He didn’t notice at first—the sting in his eyes, the way his vision blurred—but when Cody stepped forward, his hand reaching for him, that’s when he realised that the tears had already fallen.

Obi-Wan wiped his eyes quickly, as if trying to erase the proof of his weakness, but it was too late.

Cody’s voice was soft, but it shook. “Obi-Wan…you didn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve any of it.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, the weight of everything crashing down on him. “I can’t do this. I can’t choose you. I can’t protect you like I want to.” He felt the truth rip through him, and the despair settled in deep, like a stone in his chest.

Cody stepped forward, his hand coming to rest on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Tentative, but real. “You don’t have to choose, Obi-Wan. Not like this. Not anymore.”

Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat, and for the first time in days, he felt the walls around him crack.

He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but he felt the possibility of something more than just duty.

Chapter Text

The road to Coruscant was long, the wheels of the carriage creaking with each bump in the earth, yet Cody hardly noticed the journey. His gaze remained fixed out the window, watching the world blur by—golden fields and distant hills, skies that held the early light of morning like a promise. But for him, there was no peace in the quiet. Not today.

It had been nearly a year since he left the castle. He remained there at first for training—months spent sharpening his skills, hardening his body, preparing for whatever threats the world might throw at Obi-Wan. It was harsher training than when he first became a knight of the Sith. He had learned much in that time—how to survive, how to fight, how to keep his emotions buried deep where no one could reach them. He had been prepared to work with the Prince, but the training had never prepared him for who Obi-Wan actually was. Obi-Wan may not have been the crown Prince, but the lines between what could be and what was had begun to blur. Cody had grown much closer to Obi-Wan than he once thought possible.

Cody glanced at the prince sitting across from him. Obi-Wan sat loosely, his red mantle trimmed with silver catching the dim light filtering through the carriage window, but there was still an air of restraint about him—more measured than Cody had seen before. It wasn’t so much the burden of the crown that weighed on him, but the knowledge that he could never wear it. The throne would never be his, no matter how much his heart might yearn for it.

Still, that didn’t stop him from fighting for his kingdom. And perhaps that was why Cody had come to admire him—though he would never say it out loud. It wasn’t just the way Obi-Wan carried himself, or his sharp mind, or his natural charm with those around him. It was the quiet fire within, the kind of fire that could burn kingdoms down, or build them up. It was the fire of a leader, even if he would never wear a crown.

So Cody found himself by Obi-Wan’s side, not just as his protector, but as his silent ally. And, if Cody dared to say it, a friend.

The decision to come to Coruscant had been made quickly—too quickly. The king of the Jedi, Qui-Gon Jinn, had extended an invitation. Or more accurately, a request. The rumors were many, but most spoke of the possibility of peace, although it was fragile. Old wounds ran deep, and Cody couldn’t help but feel the weight of history on this visit. It wasn’t about trade, or alliances, or treaties—it was a test, for both of them. And Cody wasn’t certain if they were ready for it.

The tension between the Jedi and Sith wasn’t new, but something had shifted in the air. There had been whispers of Coruscant’s king wanting to open the door to peace, but it felt like the kind of peace that could be ripped away just as quickly as it was offered. And for people like Obi-Wan and Cody, people with too much to lose and yet nothing to gain, that uncertainty lingered in the space between them.

“What do you think of it?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice cutting through the silence. He wasn’t looking at Cody, but the question was there anyway. A question not just about the trip, but about everything.

Cody hesitated. “It feels too quiet,” he said at last, his tone low. “Like a storm is waiting just beyond the horizon.”

Obi-Wan gave a small nod, eyes focused ahead. “Perhaps,” he said, but his voice didn’t carry the weight of worry. He spoke with a quiet confidence, as if he had already accounted for every danger, every possible betrayal.

Cody didn’t feel the same certainty. Not about the Jedi, not about anything. The truth was, this was more than just another diplomatic mission. It was a reckoning. A chance to prove that peace could be forged, or that a dagger in the dark can end whatever fragile bond had begun to form. And with Obi-Wan at the center of it, Cody could not afford to let his guard slip, not even for a second.

A year of training had made him a fine protector, but here, in Coruscant, the true test had begun.

Cody glanced at Obi-Wan, his attention lingering on the young prince. Obi-Wan was staring out the window, his hair tied back in a small ponytail. A single strand had escaped, slipping loose from the knot. After several attempts, Obi-Wan had stopped trying to fix it. The hair danced rebelliously near his temple, too short to stay tucked away.

Obi-Wan, catching Cody’s gaze, gave a small, teasing smile. “You’re staring again, Cody. Something on my face?”

Cody flushed, quickly looking away. “No, nothing,” he muttered, but his eyes kept drifting back to that one stray lock of hair.

“Does it bother you?” Obi-Wan asked, his tone light, but with a faint edge that betrayed a question unspoken. His gaze flickered toward Cody, a challenge in his eyes.

Cody hesitated, then bit his lip, unsure whether to push the line or leave it untouched. “It doesn’t bother me,” he said quietly. “I just noticed you were fixing it before, and now it’s undone.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, a casual motion, but there was a tension in his shoulders. “Some things don’t belong, Cody. It’s better to leave them be then force them to be something they’re not.”

Cody’s brows furrowed. There was something more in the way Obi-Wan said it, a quiet vulnerability that was too subtle to pin down. He wanted to say something, but the weight of the moment held him back.

“Obi-Wan?” Cody’s voice came out softer than intended, but there was something searching in it. He wasn’t sure if he was asking about the hair or about something else entirely.

Obi-Wan turned to him, eyes slightly narrowed, but his lips softened into that almost-imperceptible smile. “It’s nothing.”

Cody stared at him for a moment longer, the weight of their closeness pressing in on him. He wanted to reach out, to ease the tension that had built between them—but there were still lines he wasn’t sure how to cross.

His gaze flickered to the stray lock of hair again, then back to Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan was watching him now, his expression unreadable. Cody’s heart beat a little faster. He didn’t want to overstep, but he also didn’t want to let this small moment pass unacknowledged.

“Well, I believe that when things don’t belong, that doesn’t mean they deserve to be discarded.”

Obi-Wan seemed to study him, his blue eyes searching for something in Cody’s, but he said nothing.

“May I?” Cody asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his fingers already hovering near the errant strand. His eyes searched Obi-Wan’s for any sign of discomfort, any hint that he was crossing a boundary.

Obi-Wan paused, then nodded, his expression unreadable, though his gaze softened ever so slightly. He didn’t pull away, didn’t protest, but there was still a quiet wariness in his eyes.

Cody carefully threaded the strand of hair between his fingers, the touch gentle as he began to braid it. His hands moved slowly, almost hesitantly, as though afraid that any wrong move would shatter this fragile, unspoken understanding they shared.

As he worked, he spoke softly. “When something doesn’t belong, it’s not always because it’s wrong or broken.” Cody’s fingers moved with quiet precision, twisting the strand carefully. “Sometimes, it’s simply because it’s unique. Beautifully so.”

He tied off the braid loosely, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. When he finally met Obi-Wan’s eyes, he saw something there, something unreadable, a flicker of emotion that Obi-Wan quickly masked with a small sigh.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, as if to say something, but before the words could take form, the carriage jolted to a sudden stop. The moment between them snapped, as if the world outside had broken through the fragile silence they’d shared.

Cody glanced toward the window, his chest tight with the unspoken weight of the moment. Neither of them said anything as the carriage came to a halt, the outside world rushing back into focus.

As they stepped off the carriage, Cody’s fingers unconsciously tightened around the hilt of his sword. His mind raced to remind himself why they were here. This was more than just a meeting, it was a moment that would shape the future. And for all his training, for all his resolve, Cody knew that in the end, it would come down to one thing: how far would he go to protect this man who would never be king?

Cody’s gaze flicked to Obi-Wan as they entered the palace grounds. The prince’s eyes were unreadable, but Cody could sense the weight of it. The pressure to succeed, to bring something back from this meeting that could somehow tip the balance in their favour.

As they drew closer to the throne room, Cody couldn’t shake the feeling that this peace, so carefully sought, might just be the kind of thing that would shatter at the first touch of a blade. The doors of the hall swung open, and the tension in the air seemed to solidify.

Cody stepped forward, his body a shield between Obi-Wan and whatever came next.

And so it began.

The negotiations, the test of wills. The beginning of the path that might one day lead to more than just peace. More than just duty.

Cody had already pledged himself to this cause, but as the words of the king began to fill the room, he couldn’t help but wonder: Would he one day pledge for something more?

But for now, his duty remained clear. Cody would protect Obi-Wan. Always.

~~~~

King Qui-Gon Jinn had seen hundreds of negotiations in his decades on the throne. Plenty of treaties had been forged here with handshakes and sealed with veiled threats, but none had ever felt quite like this.

He studied the young man standing at the foot of his dais. Prince Obi-Wan of the Sith was leaner than most warriors Qui-Gon knew, dressed not in armor but a long mantle of deep red trimmed in silver. His hair was bound back in a simple knot, but a braid rested by his temple. He was bearing calm, eyes steady. Regal, yes, but unassuming in the way that only those truly confident in their power could afford to be.

And just behind him, half a step to his right, stood his knight.

Qui-Gon had noted him too—how could he not? Cody moved like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath. He was taller than Obi-Wan, armored in lightweight steel with the pale crest of the Sith engraved across his breast. The two exchanged quiet words as they waited, words Qui-Gon couldn’t hear. But it wasn’t the content that caught the king’s attention, it was the way they spoke to one another.

Not master and servant. Not even lord and vassal. Something more familiar. Intimate, even. A closeness hard-earned, not declared.

“A prince,” Qui-Gon said at last, letting his voice echo through the stone hall, “in place of a king. Tell me, Prince Obi-Wan, do you come because your father fears to walk into my court himself?”

Obi-Wan didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled. Just a faint, measured tilt of his mouth that somehow made Qui-Gon feel as though he were the one being tested. The boy made a mighty fine negotiator.

“No, Your Majesty. He sent me because he does not fear you.”

That drew a chuckle from Qui-Gon, one of genuine surprise. “Careful. That tongue of yours could cut deeper than a war axe.”

“I hope only to carve a path,” Obi-Wan replied. “One that leads away from blood.”

“Peace is a noble goal, but it takes more than words.” Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes. “Your father has ruled the Sith for thirty years. If peace matters, let him say it to my face.”

The prince didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced toward Cody, and something passed between them, some unspoken language of shared resolve.

When he looked back to Qui-Gon, his voice was steady.

“I speak with his blessing, but I carry more than his words. I carry his choice.”

Qui-Gon felt the weight in those words, heavier than the crown on his brow. He had met Obi-Wan once before, years ago, when the boy was barely sixteen. Rumors then had whispered of his adoption—The Sith king had taken in a child not of his blood and raised him beside his own. A political move, many had claimed. A gesture of mercy, others said. But even then, the boy had spoken with precision and fire.

Now, that fire was tempered. Refined.

He looked to Cody again. The knight hadn’t moved, but his eyes had. Watching everything. Qui-Gon recognized the stance—not of a man prepared for battle, but of one prepared to die.

And yet, despite the weight of their mission, the two carried it together. Not with grim burden, but quiet unity. Obi-Wan’s hand brushed against Cody’s as he stepped forward again, almost imperceptibly. It might have been accidental. Qui-Gon didn’t think so.

“Your Majesty,” Obi-Wan said, bowing his head, “I can carry a treaty, and I can carry trust, but if it is your will to see the hand that signs peace be your equal, then I will send for my father. Let him come, and let us end this properly.”

The silence that followed was thick.

Qui-Gon studied the young man before him. The adopted son. The not-crown prince. And yet—how could he not be a king?

He drew in a breath. “Very well,” he said at last. “If the King of the Sith shows his face in my court, I will stay the march. For now.”

And then—

A whistle.

Sharp. Sudden.

The sound was followed by a flicker of movement from above. Qui-Gon didn’t see the arrow until it was already flying.

He saw Cody move, though.

Like a hound loosed from a chain, the knight surged forward, his cloak whipping behind him as he threw himself in front of Obi-Wan. The arrow hit with a crack , embedding deep into Cody’s shoulder. He staggered, but didn’t fall.

“Obi-Wan—down!” Cody roared, dragging the prince back even as blood poured down his arm.

Qui-Gon rose from his throne, fury boiling in his chest. “Guards!”

Steel clattered as Coruscant’s men charged forward, but whoever had loosed the shot had vanished, slipping back into the rafters or shadows beyond reach. Coruscant’s captain shouted orders, the guards fanned out—but it didn’t matter. The damage had already been done.

Cody held his sword in his good hand, shielding Obi-Wan with his body. His blood painted the stone floor, yet his focus never wavered. “Obi-Wan,” he growled, “we move, now.”

Qui-Gon stepped down from his dais, heart pounding. His guards flanked him, but he waved them off. “Get them to the healer’s wing,” he ordered. “Now.”

Obi-Wan helped Cody stay upright, his hand pressed against the knight’s bleeding shoulder, face pale but controlled. The prince didn’t panic.

He didn’t even flinch.

“Someone wants this peace to fail,” Obi-Wan said quietly as the guards escorted them away.

Qui-Gon stood there in the hall long after the others had gone, staring at the blood drying on the floor.

The boy— no, the man—had nearly died for a kingdom that wouldn’t crown him, for a peace he could not sign alone, and yet he stood taller than any monarch Qui-Gon had met.

That one, Qui-Gon thought, may not have been born to be king, but he was surely meant to be one.

~~~~~

The stone walls were too white. Scrubbed of blood, scrubbed of scent. Sterile, despite the copper tang that still clung faintly to the air.

Obi-Wan sat beside the cot, elbow braced on one knee, fingers steepled against his lips.

Cody lay still, half-wrapped in clean linens and stripped of his armor. His shoulder was bandaged tight, the arrowhead long removed, but the damage ran deeper. The healers had said he lost too much blood, that the only reason he was alive was stubbornness—and proximity to aid.

Obi-Wan had barely heard them.

He could still feel the heat of Cody’s blood on his hands. The way the knight’s body had jerked as the arrow struck him. The noise he made— not a cry, not quite. More of a warning. Protective. Urgent.

Just like everything Cody did.

The healers had tried to send Obi-Wan away, but he wouldn’t go. Not until Cody woke.

So now he sat. Hours had passed. He had no sense of time here, only the rhythmic rise and fall of Cody’s chest. Too slow and too shallow, but steady.

“I didn’t need you to do that,” Obi-Wan said, though his voice barely carried. “I could have—”

He stopped, because that wasn’t true. He hadn’t seen the arrow. He wouldn’t have moved in time.

And Cody had known that.

He let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, tugging it back from his face. The firelight danced across the stone floor, making the shadows seem to shift and breathe. He looked at Cody’s face. Not the hardened mask worn for battle, but the real one beneath. Pale. Drawn. And somehow, still proud even in unconsciousness.

“Idiot,” Obi-Wan whispered, fondly. “You stubborn, reckless fool.”

Cody stirred.

It was faint—just the twitch of fingers, a sharp inhale through clenched teeth. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first.

Then they found Obi-Wan, and narrowed immediately.

“You’re still here,” Cody rasped, voice hoarse.

“Where else would I be?”

“You should be under guard, with the king.”

“I am with the king,” Obi-Wan said dryly, then added, “He’s fine. You’re the one who nearly bled to death.”

Cody tried to sit up, but Obi-Wan immediately pushed him back down with one hand against his good shoulder. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You passed out in my arms.”

“I still shielded you,” Cody snapped, trying to throw off the hand, but his strength wasn’t back yet. “That was my duty.”

“Getting yourself killed isn’t your duty,” Obi-Wan snapped back.

Their eyes locked.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then Cody’s voice dropped, quieter but fiercer. “You are the future of the Sith, whether your people see it yet or not. I would die for you without hesitation.”

Obi-Wan stood abruptly, pacing a few steps away, jaw clenched. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“That doesn’t make it acceptable.” He turned back. “You act like your life is worth nothing compared to mine, and I won’t have it.”

“I’m your sword,” Cody said. “That’s all I am. My life is meant to protect yours.”

Obi-Wan’s throat tightened. “You’re more than that to me, you know that.”

The words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable.

Cody blinked once. His lips parted, then closed again, but he didn’t look away.

Obi-Wan stepped closer, kneeling beside the cot again. “You can’t protect me if you’re dead. And I—I can’t do this without you.”

A long silence passed.

Finally, Cody let his head fall back against the pillow. “Fine,” he muttered. “But next time, try ducking faster.”

Obi-Wan let out a breathless laugh, tension cracking like ice. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re lucky I am.”

They were quiet after that. The worst of the moment had passed, but the weight of it lingered.

Obi-Wan didn’t leave his side. Not that night. Not until Cody’s breathing deepened and steadied again, and even then, only to move his chair closer—within reach.

Just in case.

Chapter Text

The throne room felt colder than it ever had before. Obi-Wan could feel the chill crawl through his bones as he stood before his father, the towering figure of King Palpatine sitting upon his golden throne, his eyes full of fury. The king’s harsh words echoed in the stone walls, biting through the silence like a sharpened blade.

Obi-Wans heart pounded in his chest. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had been the one nearly killed, his life barely spared by Cody’s quick action, and yet here he was, standing before his father like a child being scolded for something he hadn’t done.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stand tall, despite the nagging throb in his body. It wasn’t the Jedi’s fault. It couldn’t be.

“I told you,” Obi-Wan began, his voice raw but insistent, “it wasn’t them. The Jedi had no part in this. Their king was just as surprised as I was.”

King Palpatine’s gaze hardened, his expression growing darker with every word.

“Their king helped you,” he sneered, his voice sharp as a blade, “to make himself seem innocent. You’re going to sit there and tell me you think they had no part in it? They were just waiting for the right moment. I warned you, Obi-Wan. They never wanted peace. This was just the beginning.”

Obi-Wan felt a fire light within him, the frustration burning away the last of his fatigue. He took a step forward, ignoring the sting in his side. “He helped because we were attacked together! If it wasn’t for the Jedi, Cody would be dead.”

The king’s eyes narrowed as he raised a hand, dismissing Obi-Wan’s words with a flick of his wrist. “You’re blind, Obi-Wan. Blinded by that ridiculous ideal of yours. You still think peace is possible with these people? No, boy. This was their move. Their king made one thing very clear when he spoke of the treaty. He said he would only accept it if I went to sign it personally. That was the condition. And now you’re going to tell me that wasn’t part of some scheme to undermine this kingdom?”

Obi-Wan’s chest tightened, but he held his ground. He could feel the weight of his father’s anger, could see the disdain in his eyes. But he wasn’t about to back down. Not this time.

“That’s a perfectly acceptable condition!” Obi-Wan snapped, his voice rising. “King Qui-Gon wants peace just as much as we do. He’s not plotting against us, Father. You’re the one who refuses to see it. You’re so obsessed with holding onto this grudge with the Jedi that you can’t even consider the possibility that they want what we want—an end to the fighting.”

“You don’t understand,” King Palpatine growled, standing from his throne with sudden force. He towered over Obi-Wan, his fists clenched as he took a step forward. “You’re not the one who carries the weight of this kingdom on your shoulders. You’re not the one who has to protect the crown. Anakin is. Anakin will be the one to lead us into the future.”

Obi-Wan flinched, a deep ache pooling in his chest, but he refused to let it show. He couldn’t. Not now.

“I know my place, Father,” Obi-Wan said, the words coming out cold and sharp. “But I will not sit by and watch you ruin this kingdom for the sake of pride and old grudges. I will speak my mind. I will do what’s right.”

“Right?” The king’s lips curled into a sneer. “You have no idea what’s right. Anakin will inherit this throne. Not you. Don’t forget yourself, boy.”

The final blow landed in the silence that followed. Obi-Wan’s heart twisted painfully, the bitterness rising in his throat.

He stepped back, eyes never leaving his father’s face, and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“You may be the king, but that doesn’t mean you’re always right,” Obi-Wan said quietly. His voice was soft, but firm. “Anakin may be the one who wears the crown, but it won’t be long before the kingdom falls under the weight of your stubbornness. And when it does, don’t come to me for help.”

King Palpatine’s face contorted with fury, but Obi-Wan didn’t flinch. He couldn’t afford to.

“You will remember your place, Obi-Wan. I will not have insubordination in my own court.”

Obi-Wan met his gaze one last time before he turned on his heel, making his way toward the doors, his legs aching with every step. As he crossed the threshold, the king’s voice, cold and cutting, called after him.

“Don’t you dare think I won’t have this conversation again. You are nothing more than a guest in my house, Obi-Wan.”

And yet, as he stepped out into the hall, a strange feeling settled within him. He didn’t know if it was defiance or desperation, but he felt a flicker of hope. Because if he didn’t speak up, if he didn’t take a stand now, then everything they had fought for—everything he had worked for—would slip through their fingers.

And Obi-Wan wasn’t about to let that happen.

~~~~~

The door creaked softly as Obi-Wan entered the small, dimly lit chamber. The air was thick with the smell of fresh parchment and the faint, musky scent of the leather-bound books lining the walls. Cody was sitting at the far side of the room, his armor laid out on a nearby chair for cleaning, his back to the door. He was lost in the quiet task of tending to his sword, his fingers moving with practiced ease.

When Obi-Wan stepped inside, Cody glanced up, a quiet, familiar warmth in his eyes. The sight of the prince—his expression as sharp and worn as the sword Cody had just cleaned—made him set the weapon down immediately.

“How are you holding up?” Cody asked, his voice low but filled with concern.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said, though the weariness in his tone betrayed him. His eyes were distant as he sank into the chair opposite Cody’s. He sat there for a moment, staring at nothing in particular, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

Then, slowly, he spoke, his words carrying the weight of everything he’d just left behind in the throne room.

“You should’ve heard him, Cody. He won’t see it. It wasn’t the Jedi who tried to kill me, I know it wasn’t them. But Father... he’s convinced that they’re behind it all. He’s so damn sure, and every time I try to tell him otherwise, he just dismisses me.”

Cody frowned, wiping his hands on the cloth. He set the rag down, then crossed over to Obi-Wan, sitting next to him. His body was tense, but his eyes softened, his voice quieter now, more measured. “It’s not easy to change a king’s mind. Especially one like King Palpatine.” He watched Obi-Wan closely, seeing the prince’s brow furrow and his jaw clench as he spoke, the frustration bubbling up. It was clear Obi-Wan had reached the end of his patience.

“Why is he so against the treaty?” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked with a frustration Cody knew all too well. “Why does he keep digging in his heels like this? Peace could save this kingdom, and he refuses to see it. It's almost like he wants to go to war.”

Cody was quiet for a moment, leaning back against the chair, his gaze distant as if weighing the words. It was a delicate statement, one that hovered like a shadow between them. He had his own suspicions about King Palpatine—suspicions he never voiced aloud—but there was something about the king’s obsession with dominance, with old rivalries, that made Cody uneasy.

“The king has always been about power,” Cody said softly. “War brings riches. War brings glory. War keeps the kingdom’s grip on its neighbors.” He glanced at Obi-Wan, his expression unreadable. “Maybe he fears what peace will cost. Maybe he fears he’ll lose his edge. Or his control.”

Obi-Wan’s chest tightened, and he looked away, staring out the small window where the evening sky began to darken. It was hard to imagine the kingdom in the hands of a king who saw diplomacy as a weakness, who couldn’t see the strength in forging peace. But Palpatine’s obsession with the Jedi—the years of skirmishes and political games—made it feel like there was no other option.

“I can’t do this, Cody,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “I’m not the heir. I’m just  a shadow. A prince by adoption, not by blood. I don’t have the power to change anything.”

His words hit Cody harder than he’d expected, and he felt an uncomfortable pang in his chest. It wasn’t just the frustration in Obi-Wan’s voice, the helplessness—it was the truth behind it. The truth that Obi-Wan, no matter how capable, how strong, how right he was, could never be the one to lead.

Cody knew what it was like to be cast aside. To serve others, to be expected to follow orders, to never hold the reins of command. And he knew Obi-Wan, despite everything, wanted to change things. But he couldn’t. Not without the king’s blessing. Not without being born into that bloodline.

And that was a kind of prison all its own.

Cody leaned forward, his hand resting lightly on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, a steady, solid presence. “You don’t have to carry this alone, you know.” His voice was low, almost intimate, as he spoke the words that, for a moment, he had to remind himself were only meant to comfort.

Obi-Wan let out a small, bitter laugh, his eyes flicking over to Cody’s face. “It’s not just the kingdom, Cody. It’s  everything. I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes. Like I’m trapped in this endless game, this war that’s already lost.” He exhaled, a quiet, shaky breath escaping him. “And it doesn’t matter how hard I fight. How hard I try. I’ll never be enough.”

Cody’s heart clenched. He wanted to tell Obi-Wan that he was wrong—that he was enough. But he knew better than to lie. He could see the weight Obi-Wan carried, the exhaustion creeping up in every line of his face, in the slump of his shoulders. And for once, Cody didn’t try to fix it. He just let him speak.

Obi-Wan’s next words came out in a quiet sigh, full of frustration and something else—something far softer that Cody wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

“I just want to be more than a shadow, Cody.” Obi-Wan’s voice trembled ever so slightly, the rawness of his emotions starting to bleed through his usual stoic mask. “I want to matter.”

It took Cody a moment to gather his thoughts. To process the pain in those words. But then, before he could stop himself, he reached out, his arms pulling Obi-Wan closer. The prince collapsed against him with a quiet sigh, his head resting against Cody’s shoulder.

It was a strange, unexpected moment—one Cody hadn’t anticipated—and yet, something about it felt right. His arm wrapped around Obi-Wan instinctively, his fingers brushing the prince’s hair, smoothing it back. Obi-Wan’z breathing slowed, his exhausted form melting against him as the weight of everything—of the failed talks, of the anger, the frustration—finally caught up to him.

Obi-Wan had been fighting for so long, had been carrying the burdens of the kingdom and his own heart in silence. And now, with Cody’s support, he didn’t have to.

The world outside, with its chaos and politics, could wait.

For now, Cody was just there. Holding him. Letting him breathe.

And slowly, quietly, Obi-Wan fell asleep in his arms.

Cody stayed still, his own eyes closing for a moment, savoring the calm before it would all begin again. But in that moment—when Obi-Wan was vulnerable, soft, and trusting—Cody felt something stir deep inside him. Something that, for the first time, felt like it could grow.

He didn’t know what it meant yet. But he knew, in his heart, that he would stand by Obi-Wan, no matter what. Even if that meant standing in the shadows for a while longer.

He could wait.

Chapter Text

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the castle’s courtyard as Cody worked with his sword in the training yard. Sweat clung to his brow, and the rhythm of his strikes rang through the air like a steady heartbeat. His every motion was fluid and precise, practiced and perfected through years of discipline. But his thoughts? They were elsewhere.

The clang of metal on metal, the scrape of leather on stone, all became background noise when he thought of home. Of his family. Of his younger brothers.

He hadn't seen them since he’d enlisted in training to become Obi-Wan’s personal knight. Since then, the King had made it clear: Cody’s duties were to the Crown and the Prince, and his family would always come second.

As Cody adjusted his stance, wiping the sweat from his brow, he heard a familiar voice call from the edge of the courtyard.

"Quite the performance, Sir Cody."

Turning, Cody’s gaze fell upon Prince Anakin, his usual calm demeanour slightly out of place today. Anakin stood a few paces away, his arms crossed, eyes focused on him.

Cody wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, pushing aside a strand of dark hair, and raised an eyebrow. "Your Highness, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Anakin stepped closer, glancing over his shoulder to ensure they were alone. His voice lowered, a rare edge of hesitation in his tone. "I've just received news," he said, his expression unreadable. "The King told me I shouldn’t share it with you… but I couldn’t keep it from you, Cody."

Cody’s chest tightened, sensing the weight behind Anakin’s words. His mind raced, wondering what news could be so pressing, so secret, that Anakin would risk defying the King’s orders.

Anakin’s gaze softened as he spoke again, the words carefully chosen. "Your younger brother, Rex…He’s to be trained as a knight."

Cody froze, his sword suddenly heavy in his grip. “Rex?” His voice was low, almost a whisper. “But the King said no one in my family would be enlisted if I joined.”

“I know," Anakin said gently. "I know. But the King has made his decision. Rex has the talent, the potential. He’ll begin his training soon.”

Cody’s heart pounded in his chest. Rex, a knight? He had always been so… so young. So full of life, of questions, of dreams. Could he really be ready for this world—this world Cody had sacrificed so much for? A world that had demanded he leave his family behind?

Anakin stepped forward, placing a hand on Cody’s shoulder. His touch was firm, but there was a gentleness in his eyes that made Cody pause.

“You haven’t seen him in a year. I know,” Anakin continued. “But I want to offer you something. If Rex becomes my personal guard, you’ll be able to see him more often. You’ll be closer to him, you won’t have to live in the shadows of your duty anymore.”

Cody’s chest tightened at the thought of it—the chance to see Rex again, to be part of his life. The ache of longing that had lingered in his heart for so long felt sharper now, more intense.

“You would pick Rex as your personal guard?” Cody asked, his voice thick with emotion. “For me?”

Anakin nodded, his expression serious. “I’ll keep him close. I’ll make sure he has everything he needs. And if it’s important to you, Cody—if it’s truly important—I’ll ensure you can be a part of his life. You don’t have to be so far away anymore. I want you to have that chance. You gave me the chance to rid the distance between me and my brother…I want to do the same for you.”

Cody’s heart skipped at Anakin’s words. The thought of being near Rex again, of not being separated by his duty, seemed almost impossible. He hadn’t realised how much he had missed his younger brother, how much he yearned for that bond to return.

For a long moment, Cody didn’t speak. He let the silence settle between them, the weight of Anakin’s offer pressing into him. Could he really say yes? Could he break the rules that had kept him distant from his family, from everything he once held dear?

Finally, he exhaled, his shoulders dropping slightly as if a weight had lifted from him. His gaze met Anakin’s, and he nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’ll take you up on that. I want to be close to him again, to see him. I want to have that chance.”

Anakin’s expression softened, his hand still resting on Cody’s shoulder. “You won’t regret it,” he said quietly, his voice warm. “And neither will Rex.”

As Anakin stepped back, giving Cody space to absorb the enormity of what had just transpired, Cody couldn’t shake the sense of relief that washed over him. For the first time in years, the path ahead seemed a little less lonely. He had a way back to his brothers, a way to bridge the gap the King had created.

And maybe—just maybe—he could finally be the brother he had always wanted to be.

~~~~~

The late afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of the prince's private chambers, casting soft golden light across the stone floors. Obi-Wan sat at the large desk, his fingers drumming absentmindedly on the polished wood, the papers in front of him barely noticed. His thoughts, as they often were, were with Cody.

The knight had been distant lately, quieter than usual, and Obi-Wan had sensed something weighing on him. It wasn’t like Cody to retreat inward, to hide his thoughts from him. They were close, closer than either of them dared to acknowledge fully, but Obi-Wan could feel the shift in the air, the tension, the unspoken words that lingered between them like a shadow.

It had been a year since Cody’s last visit home. A year since he’d seen his family, his brothers, the people he had once been so close to. The King’s decree had kept him bound to Obi-Wan’s service, a role that Cody had taken up with unwavering loyalty. But Obi-Wan knew the toll it took on him, the ache in his eyes whenever he spoke of home, the subtle longing he tried so hard to bury.

As if on cue, the door to the chamber opened, and Cody stepped in. His expression was a careful mask, but Obi-Wan saw the lines of weariness on his face, the faintest hint of uncertainty in his posture.

"Cody," Obi-Wan greeted, his voice warm but laced with curiosity. "What brings you here? You’re supposed to resting." His eyes lingered on the sweat sticking to his hair. “Were you training? You know you aren’t supposed to be doing that.”

Cody hesitated in the doorway for a moment, looking almost unsure. He always had a way of wearing his thoughts so plainly on his sleeve, even when he tried to hide them. Today, it seemed, was no different.

"I have news," Cody said, his voice low, his tone careful.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "News? What kind of news?"

Cody stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His gaze flitted to Obi-Wan, then away, as though grappling with the words he needed to say.

"Anakin, he made me an offer."

Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly, the subtle shift in Cody’s mood not escaping him. "What kind of offer?"

Cody let out a breath, his fingers grazing the edge of the chair as he moved to stand near Obi-Wan. The knight looked uneasy, a hint of something raw flashing behind his usual stoic expression.

"My brother Rex has been chosen to begin knight training. The King has given his blessing. Anakin offered to make him his personal guard." Cody paused, and Obi-Wan could see the conflict, the hope and doubt warring within him. "He said if Rex joins him, I can be near him again. See him, protect him, be part of his life."

Obi-Wan’s gaze softened as he listened, the weight of Cody’s words settling between them like a quiet storm. He could feel the undercurrent of longing, the hunger for connection in Cody’s voice. He knew how much it had cost him to leave his family behind, how much it had torn at him. And now, the chance to finally reconnect with his brother—it was too precious to ignore.

"You’re going to see him again," Obi-Wan said softly, his voice filled with an unspoken understanding. He had known Cody long enough to recognise the fear in his eyes, the hesitation that ran so deep. "Rex will be there, and you’ll finally be able to protect him as you’ve always wanted."

Cody nodded slowly, but there was a flicker of doubt in his expression. "But it’s been a year. A whole year. What if things have changed? What if he doesn’t need me anymore?"

Obi-Wan’s heart tightened at the rawness of Cody’s voice. He stood up and moved closer, his presence a steadying force, and placed a hand gently on Cody’s shoulder, a small but grounding touch.

"Don’t worry about that." Obi-Wan’s voice was calm, reassuring. "You’re his brother. No amount of time or distance can change that. He’ll still need you, just like he always has. And if there’s anything you’ve learned in all this time, it’s how to protect the ones you love, even from a distance."

Cody met his gaze, the uncertainty in his eyes softening, but not entirely gone. "But what if I’m not enough? What if he’s grown without me?"

Obi-Wan’s hand lingered on his shoulder, squeezing just a little tighter. "You are enough, Cody. And even if you haven’t been there for him the way you wanted to, you’ve never stopped thinking about him. You’ve never stopped caring. That’s something that can’t be forgotten. You’ve been with him in spirit, even when you couldn’t be there in person. You’ve protected him, in your own way."

There was a pause, and Obi-Wan could feel the tremor of Cody’s breath beneath his touch. Slowly, almost as if testing the weight of Obi-Wan’s words, Cody let out a soft sigh. The tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction.

"Maybe you’re right," Cody said quietly. "Maybe I’ve been so focused on what I lost that I haven’t given enough thought to what I still have."

Obi-Wan smiled gently, the warmth in his eyes not just for Cody but for the bond they shared—the one that was still forming, still quiet and tentative, like a flickering flame that hadn’t quite taken root. But it was there, just beneath the surface.

"You’re not alone in this, Cody," Obi-Wan added, his voice steady, but with an edge of something deeper. "You don’t have to carry this on your own. You never have."

Cody met his gaze then, the depth of emotion between them growing, palpable in the space between them. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, as if weighing his next words carefully.

"I’ll see him tomorrow," Cody finally said, his voice firmer now, a sense of purpose returning to him. "I’ll take the chance. I’ll be there for him."

Obi-Wan nodded, a quiet satisfaction settling over him. He gave Cody a final, encouraging look before pulling back, releasing the slight tension in his hand.

"Good. And when you see him, remember that you don’t need to prove anything. Just be there. That’s enough."

Cody’s lips quirked slightly at the edges, a small, tentative smile playing at his mouth. "I’ll remember that."

Obi-Wan watched him for a moment, noting the faint softening in Cody’s posture. Despite the heavy burden that still clung to his friend, there was something else there, too—a quiet hope. Cody wasn’t as alone as he thought. And when it came time to face his brother again, when the walls of duty and distance would fall away, Obi-Wan would be there for him, just as Cody had always been there for him.

For now, though, they would face the future one step at a time. Together.

~~~~~

The castle grounds were alive with the chatter of knights and squires preparing for the evening’s feast. The air was thick with the mingling scents of roasting meat and fresh bread, but for Rex, none of it seemed to matter. He stood at the edge of the courtyard, his boots shifting nervously against the cobblestone, trying to force his thoughts into order. His heart was racing, and no matter how much he tried to calm himself, his stomach twisted with a knot of nerves he couldn’t shake.

Today was the day. Today, he would see Cody again.

It had been a year since his older brother had visited on his last holiday before becoming Prince Obi-Wan’s personal guard, and despite the letters and the words of comfort from their mother, nothing could fill the emptiness that had settled in Rex’s chest. Cody had always been his protector, his guide, and without him, the world had felt far less certain.

But now, there was a new reality. Now, Rex was to be trained as a knight. The King had granted his request, and Anakin—Prince Anakin—had chosen to take him under his wing, to be one of his personal guards. A dream, yes, but also a terrifying new path. And even more so, it meant being in the Prince’s presence—and being closer to the man who Cody had sworn his loyalty to.

Anakin had been kind, understanding, even welcoming. His encouragement had been steady, a beacon amidst the uncertainty. Still, Rex couldn’t shake the nerves that churned inside him when he thought of the life ahead.

As he stood there, watching the other knights spar on the practice fields, he felt the tap of a gloved hand on his shoulder. Rex stiffened, his breath catching in his throat, before he turned to face Anakin.

“Everything will be all right, Rex,” Anakin said, his voice gentle but firm. “You’ve nothing to be nervous about. It’s just Cody. He’s your brother. You’ve spent your whole life with him.”

“I know,” Rex replied, swallowing hard. His voice was quieter than he intended, betraying the nervousness he was trying so hard to hide. “It’s just…I don’t know if things will be the same. I’ve grown, I’ve changed. What if he’s different? What if he doesn’t even recognise me?”

Anakin smiled softly, his eyes kind but understanding. "I’ve seen how you’ve changed, Rex. You’ve grown into someone strong. And Cody? He’ll see you just as you are now. Brothers don’t forget each other, no matter how much time passes. He’ll be proud of you, just as I am."

Rex glanced at Anakin, unsure of what to make of the warmth in his voice. He had always respected the Prince, but there was something different today. Something in his manner, in the way he spoke, that made Rex feel seen, truly seen, in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

"Thanks, Anakin," Rex murmured, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "I just don’t know what to expect. I haven’t seen him in so long. What if things are awkward?"

Anakin chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. "Trust me, Rex. Even if it’s awkward at first, you two will pick up right where you left off. You’ve got a brotherly bond—that doesn’t fade."

Rex nodded slowly, though a part of him still felt like a young boy again, standing on the edge of something vast and unknown. His gaze flicked nervously to the far side of the courtyard, where the gates were beginning to creak open. His heart thudded in his chest.

"Is that him?" Rex asked, his voice a little shakier than he’d intended.

Anakin followed his gaze, then gave him a reassuring nod. “That’s him. It’s time.”

The world seemed to stop for a moment as Rex saw Cody—his tall figure cutting through the crowd like a shadow. His armour gleamed in the setting sun, his face set in that familiar stoic expression, but Rex could see the way his posture shifted when he locked eyes with him. A flicker of something—recognition, warmth, perhaps even a touch of vulnerability—flashed in Cody’s eyes, and for the first time in so long, Rex felt the familiar comfort of his presence.

Anakin clapped a hand on his back, a strong but gentle push toward his brother. "Go on," he said softly. "You’ve got this."

Rex swallowed again, a final wave of nerves flooding through him as he took his first steps toward Cody. His brother had been quiet yet confident, always composed. He had never once seemed to doubt himself. Rex, in contrast, had always been the younger one, the one who followed in his brother’s footsteps, unsure of his own worth. And now they were standing on equal footing. Cody had come back for him, and Rex didn’t know how to feel about that.

When he reached Cody, the taller knight looked down at him, and for a long, pregnant moment, neither of them spoke. The space between them felt charged, the weight of the time apart lingering in the air.

And then, Cody’s face softened, just the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’ve grown,” he said quietly, his voice rough, as though he, too, had struggled to find the right words.

Rex felt a lump in his throat at the sight of his brother standing before him. His brother was here. His brother had come back.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Rex said, his voice barely more than a whisper. His hands were trembling, but he forced them to stay steady. “But I don’t know how to be a knight yet. I don’t know if I’m good enough.”

Cody’s hand reached out then, resting briefly on his shoulder, the contact as warm as he remembered it. "You’ll find your way. You always do." His voice was quieter now, softer, and Rex could hear the pride in his words.

For a moment, it felt like the whole world had faded away. Cody wasn’t just a knight now, he was his brother. And that bond, that quiet assurance, was something that time couldn’t take away.

Anakin, standing a little to the side, watched with quiet approval. He gave Rex a knowing look, as though silently telling him that everything would be okay, that the distance between them had already begun to shrink, piece by piece.

“You’ll do great, Rex” Anakin said, his voice kind but firm. “And you’ve got Cody here, as always.”

Rex looked back at Cody, finding his voice once more. “I’ll make you proud,” he promised, his chest swelling with a new sense of resolve.

“I know you will,” Cody replied softly, his voice steady. “You always have.”

The quiet lingered between them for a moment, Cody’s hand still resting on Rex’s shoulder, grounding him, like it always had. The familiar weight of his brother’s presence was a comfort Rex hadn’t realised he’d been missing so much. The gulf of time and distance between them seemed to shrink in that simple touch.

Cody’s gaze softened, his eyes studying Rex’s face for a moment longer before he spoke again, his voice low and sincere. “I meant what I said. You’ve always been capable. You’ve always had the strength you need to stand on your own. It’s just a matter of believing it yourself.”

Rex nodded, but the uncertainty still lingered in his chest. "I’ll try. I only wish I’d had more time with you before you left. I didn’t realise how much I relied on you until you were gone."

Cody’s expression flickered with something unreadable, but he gave a slight, understanding nod. “I know. But you’ve done well without me, Rex. You’ve grown stronger.”

At that, Anakin, who had been standing off to the side, watching their reunion with a quiet sort of satisfaction, took a step forward, his voice cutting into the moment with its warm, smooth tone. “I think it’s time I leave you two to catch up. You’ve got a lot of ground to cover. I’ll give you space.” He smiled at them both, his gaze lingering on Rex for a second longer before he turned and began to walk away.

“Take your time,” Anakin added, his voice carrying back over his shoulder. “I’ll be nearby, if you need me.”

Cody nodded gratefully, watching Anakin retreat into the distance, before turning his attention back to Rex, who was now standing with his hands clasped behind his back, his feet shifting nervously on the stone.

“I guess it’s just us now,” Rex said, a faint grin tugging at his lips. He felt the sudden weight of the question he’d been wanting to ask, something he’d held back for the longest time, not sure how to approach it. But now that they had this moment, this fleeting chance to reconnect, he found himself wanting to know more about Cody’s life as a knight, more about the life Cody had chosen so no one would be forced to leave the one they had shared.

Except that sacrifice meant nothing now, as Rex was forced to anyway.

“What’s it like?” Rex asked, his voice quiet but full of curiosity. “Being Obi-Wan’s knight, I mean. I’ve heard stories, but I’ve never really gotten the chance to hear it from you. What’s it like to serve him?”

Cody looked thoughtful for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was picking through his memories. He had been Obi-Wan’s knight for a couple months now, had been his constant, his protector. There was no easy way to explain the bond between them—it was something far more complicated than mere duty, and yet, it was rooted in an understanding and loyalty that ran deeper than most people could ever comprehend.

“It’s everything and nothing, all at once,” Cody said, finally breaking the silence. His voice was tinged with a quiet reverence, but there was an edge of something heavier in his tone. “There’s a sense of duty that never leaves you. You’re constantly aware of the weight of the Crown, of the Prince, and the expectations that come with it. But it’s also about trust—trusting that the bond you share with the Prince is something beyond just a knight’s oath. Obi-Wan isn’t just a prince to me. He’s someone I would protect with my life, no matter what.”

Rex’s eyes widened slightly at that, hearing the depth of emotion behind Cody’s words. He had always known that Cody cared for Obi-Wan in a way that went beyond simple loyalty, but hearing it spoken aloud made him realise just how much of Cody’s heart had been given to his duty—and to the man he served.

"Is it hard?" Rex asked, his voice small now. "To be away from home like that? To be so close to him but so far from everything else?"

Cody hesitated, his eyes flicking briefly to the courtyard, where Anakin had disappeared. Then he turned back to Rex, the quiet ache of his answer threading through his words.

“It’s hard, yes. At first, it was. But you learn to live with it. You adapt.” He paused again, as if deciding whether or not to share more, but then he continued, his voice quieter this time. “But when you find someone like Obi-Wan, someone who understands you in a way that no one else can, it becomes easier. You find your place in the world, even if it’s not where you thought it would be.”

Rex’s gaze lingered on his brother, absorbing the weight of his words, but it wasn’t just the words that stood out—it was the way Cody said them, with an undertone of something deeper.

“Sounds like you and Obi-Wan are closer than I realised," Rex murmured, almost to himself, before looking up to meet Cody’s gaze again.

Cody’s face softened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “We’ve spent a lot of time together. Trust is something you build over time, piece by piece. And with Obi-Wan, it was always more than just duty. He’s someone I can rely on, just as much as he relies on me.”

There was a pause, and Rex felt the subtle shift in the air. He knew there was something unsaid, something more between them, something that neither of them had fully addressed yet. But for now, he pushed that thought aside, focusing instead on the part of Cody he could understand.

“You know,” Rex said, his voice a little lighter, “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Anakin. He’s been really encouraging, more than I expected, actually.” He smiled, a touch of awe in his voice. “I can see us become friends. He seems chaotic at times, and he always knows just what to say. He doesn’t make me feel like a child. It’s nice.”

Cody’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked at Rex, a trace of curiosity in his expression. “Anakin?”

“Yeah,” Rex said with a small laugh. “I didn’t expect it either, but he’s been kind, and not in the way you’d think. He’s not distant or cold. He’s been helpful in a way that feels personal.” His gaze softened as he added, “I think he sees more in me than I saw in myself.”

Cody’s expression shifted, something unreadable crossing his face. “Anakin is a good man. He doesn’t always show it, but he’s been carrying a lot more than he lets on. You’re lucky to have someone like him in your corner.”

Rex nodded, his heart lightening at the thought of Anakin’s support. "I know. I think we will get along just fine."

Cody looked at him then, his gaze steady, before he gave a brief nod. "I hope so, Rex. I really do."

And in that moment, the space between them felt smaller—less uncertain. They were brothers again, no longer separated by the chasm of distance or duty. Together, with the quiet support of friends who understood, they would find their way, step by step.

Chapter Text

The great hall was packed to the brim, the air thick with anticipation and unease. Rows of nobles, soldiers, and common folk alike filled the stone chambers, their murmurs rising like a low tide as King Palpatine ascended the dais. Cody stood just behind Obi-Wan, the prince’s posture stiff but dignified. The golden light from towering chandeliers cast long shadows, painting the king’s face in harsh relief as he gripped the ornate lectern.

Obi-Wan’s jaw was set tight; his eyes flicked over the crowd and then back to his father. Cody’s gaze stayed glued to the prince’s expression, searching for any sign of the storm he knew raged beneath.

Palpatine’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and commanding. “My people,” he began, “we stand at a precipice. A shadow has fallen over our kingdom, cast by those we once called allies. The Jedi—so-called peacekeepers —have proven themselves traitors to our trust.”

A ripple of shocked whispers coursed through the crowd. Cody’s grip tightened on his sword hilt, the words stinging in his ears.

“They hide behind their robes and philosophies, but their hearts are filled with deceit,” Palpatine declared, eyes blazing with fury. “They are responsible for the assassination attempt against Prince Obi-Wan. Yes, the very prince who trusted them, who sought peace!”

Cody glanced sideways at Obi-Wan, catching the flicker of pain and disbelief crossing his face. The prince’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a fleeting second, Cody thought he saw the ghost of tears forming.

Palpatine’s voice rose, inflaming the crowd’s passions. “The Jedi are wolves in our midst! They seek to weaken our kingdom, to destabilize the throne! They cannot be trusted. We have tried peace, and this is the fruit it bears: betrayal and bloodshed.”

Cody’s heart pounded. He knew the Jedi weren’t behind the attacks. He was sure of it. Yet here, before the eyes of the kingdom, the king was twisting the truth into a weapon.

The crowd’s murmurs turned to shouts, voices rising in agreement, anger crackling like wildfire. Palpatine’s gaze swept over the assembly, basking in their fervor.

“Our kingdom must stand united, strong, and unyielding. War is not a choice, but a necessity. Only through strength, through fire, can we protect our people from the poison within!”

Cody watched Obi-Wan’s fingers curl into a fist, his entire body trembling with suppressed emotion. When Obi-Wan’s eyes momentarily met his, wet with unshed tears, Cody reached out, briefly clasping his hand in a silent gesture of support. Obi-Wan’s lips parted, mouthing a soft ‘thank you,’ before he turned away, composure hardening once more.

The moment passed, and Cody released his grip, returning his hand to the hilt of his sword—the ever-present reminder of his duty.

As Palpatine’s voice thundered on, Cody’s mind raced. There was more beneath the surface, he was certain. This wasn’t just about an attempted assassination or a fractured treaty. The king’s obsession with the Jedi, his veiled anger—it felt like a calculated storm brewing, far darker and deeper than anyone dared to see.

And though Cody did not yet completely understand Palpatine’s intent in this war, he knew one thing with painful clarity: the war that now seemed inevitable was no simple battle between kingdoms. It was a war seeded by shadows and lies.

Standing beside Obi-Wan, watching the prince’s quiet struggle, Cody vowed silently that no matter what came, he would not let Obi-Wan face it alone. Not while he still had breath to fight.

Palpatine’s voice echoed through the hall, the power of his words vibrating in the stone walls. “We are not at war yet, but we must prepare for it. The Jedi have made their position clear—they are enemies to our peace, to our kingdom’s future.” His gaze sharpened as he turned towards the gathered crowd, his eyes gleaming with that ever-present glint of calculation. “And we, my people, will not stand idly by while traitors plot in the shadows.”

Cody stiffened. His fingers twitched at his side, but he stayed in place, focusing on Obi-Wan, whose face had gone pale. Obi-Wan’s jaw was clenched so tightly that Cody could see the muscles shifting beneath the prince’s skin. His gaze never left the king, though the pain in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Peace has failed us,” Palpatine continued, his voice rising to a crescendo, “and now, we must take action. For the sake of this kingdom, for the future of our people, we must root out the poison before it spreads further.”

The crowd responded with roars of approval, fists raised in the air. But Cody didn’t join in. His eyes flicked back to Obi-Wan, trying to gauge his reaction. The prince’s chest rose and fell with each labored breath, his hands now gripping the edge of the podium so tightly that Cody feared the prince might break the wood beneath his fingers. The weight of the king’s speech, the venom in his words, was breaking him down piece by piece. Cody wished there was something more he could do to shield Obi-Wan from it.

Palpatine raised a hand, silencing the room with a subtle, yet powerful gesture.
“I have spoken to our generals. We will increase our defenses at the border, fortify our kingdom’s strongholds, and reinforce our armies. The Jedi may have their peacekeeping forces, but we will have strength. They will not destabilize us. Not now, not ever.”

His voice turned dark, venomous.
“And we will not stop until every last Jedi is purged from our lands. For as long as they live, the threat remains.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, and for a brief moment, Cody thought he saw the flicker of tears in the prince’s eyes. His heart twisted, knowing just how much it cost Obi-Wan to hear those words. The Jedi, the very people Obi-Wan had been trained to trust, were being branded as the enemy. And for what? A lie? A betrayal of a truth that wasn’t even theirs?

The prince’s lips parted, but no words came out. He stood there, frozen, as if Palpatine’s every word was driving a blade deeper into his chest. Cody couldn’t bear to see him like this—it was a pain beyond what he could express. A crushing weight that not even he could fight for Obi-Wan.

“As of today,” Palpatine’s voice broke through Cody’s thoughts, “I have called upon our allies. We will form new coalitions. We will be ready for the war that must come. And we will do so together—as a unified kingdom. Together, we will cast out the darkness.”

Another roar from the crowd, and Palpatine allowed himself a moment of triumph. His eyes swept over the people, drinking in their devotion. But it was at Obi-Wan, standing so close behind him, that the king’s gaze lingered just a second too long. And Cody could see the flicker of something more—the subtle satisfaction of power, the dark hunger beneath the mask.

“We will not falter in our duty,” Palpatine said, his tone softer now, almost conspiratorial. “No matter the cost, we will protect this kingdom. And anyone who questions that duty,” he paused dramatically, “will be treated as an enemy.”

The king’s eyes shot back to Obi-Wan, a pointed, silent warning that caused the prince to flinch imperceptibly. And there it was again—the tension between father and son, the promise of retribution wrapped in cold words.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. Cody saw the way his throat worked, as if the very air had become thicker, harder to breathe.

Palpatine, with a satisfied smile, gave the final command. “Prepare yourselves, my people. We march to war.”

~~~~~

Obi-Wan sat heavily on the edge of his bed, the weight of the world pressing down on him. The room, dim with the fading light of the day, felt oppressively still. His fingers brushed the edge of the table beside him, the coolness of the wood grounding him for a moment as he tried to make sense of everything.

The words from his father’s speech still rang in his ears—war, betrayal, Jedi. He had fought so hard for peace, had truly believed it was possible, but now... now it seemed as if everything was slipping through his fingers. His thoughts were like a whirlwind, impossible to catch.

The door to his room creaked open, and Cody stepped inside. His helmet was off, his face still taut with the frustration and anger he’d felt during the speech. The soldier’s calm demeanor didn’t fool Obi-Wan, not for a second. Cody was struggling just as much as he was.

Cody leaned against the doorframe for a moment before closing it behind him. His eyes locked onto Obi-Wan’s, and without a word, he moved to the small chair by the window, sitting down quietly but close enough that Obi-Wan could feel his presence. The silence between them stretched for a long time, filled only with the weight of their shared thoughts.

Finally, Obi-Wan spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I can’t do this, Cody. I can’t stand by while they drag us into war. I know I’m not the heir, but I cannot...I cannot let this happen.”

Cody’s eyes softened with understanding. He stood up and crossed the room, the faintest rustle of armor the only sound. Without hesitation, he sat beside Obi-Wan on the bed, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Cody said, his voice low, but firm. He looked straight into Obi-Wan’s eyes, as if trying to make him see the truth of the words. “You’re not the only one who feels this way. I’m with you, Obi-Wan. Whatever happens, I’m on your side.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He turned away, trying to blink back the rush of emotion that had settled in his chest. “It’s not that simple. Palpatine has the kingdom on his side. He’s twisted the truth so completely, Cody. And the people...they believe him.” He clenched his fists in his lap. “I’ve tried everything. I tried to speak reason to him, but he won’t listen. All he cares about is power.”

Cody exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting over Obi-Wan’s face as if weighing each word. “He’s a king who’s used to control. He’ll never accept that peace is possible. But you’re not powerless, Obi-Wan.” He placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, a reassuring weight. “Not in the way you think. You’re already doing more than anyone else would. You’re standing up for what’s right, and that counts for something.”

Obi-Wan glanced at him, surprised by the certainty in Cody’s voice. “I don’t know if it does,” Obi-Wan admitted, his voice cracking with frustration. “I don’t know if I can win this. I’m not even supposed to be here. I don’t belong in this world of politics and war. I was never meant to lead.”

Cody leaned in a little closer, his eyes full of quiet conviction. “You’re a leader, Obi-Wan. Whether you believe it or not. You’ve already proven that. And I trust you. I trust you completely.” His hand remained on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “I’ve always trusted you.”

Obi-Wan’s chest tightened. The sincerity in Cody’s voice, the quiet strength in his presence—it was like a balm to the rawness Obi-Wan had been feeling. He looked at Cody, really looked at him, and for the first time, he let himself take in everything: the subtle way Cody cared for him, how his calm demeanor could shield Obi-Wan from his darkest moments. The way Cody was always there, standing at his side, without question.

A flutter of something unspoken stirred in Obi-Wan’s chest. But as the moment lingered, he tried to push it away, thinking it was just the exhaustion, the weight of the situation, but it wouldn’t go. There was a quiet intensity in Cody’s eyes now, a tenderness that Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed before.

Slowly, Cody’s fingers slid from his shoulder to the back of his neck, his touch gentle, as if to offer both comfort and a moment of intimacy that Obi-Wan hadn’t expected. The warmth of Cody’s hand, the closeness of his body—it felt...different, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

Obi-Wan’s breath caught, and for a long moment, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Cody. He felt something shift in his chest, something he hadn’t been ready to acknowledge. His pulse quickened, and there, in that quiet, dimly lit room, the realization settled in. It wasn’t just Cody’s loyalty or friendship that meant so much to him.

It was...more than that. So much more.

The truth crashed over him, slow but undeniable. He loved Cody. He had loved him for so long, and perhaps had always known, even if he hadn’t allowed himself to admit it until now.

Obi-Wan felt a wave of warmth rise in his cheeks, his heart pounding in his ears. His gaze faltered, breaking away from Cody’s steady, unwavering stare, his chest tightening with a mix of realization and fear. He hadn’t expected it to hit him like this—so suddenly, so intensely. But now, in the quiet of this moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“I...I don’t know what to do anymore,” Obi-Wan whispered, almost to himself. “I feel like I’m suffocating. Like I’m fighting a battle I can never win.”

Cody’s hand gently cupped the side of Obi-Wan’s face, his thumb brushing lightly over Obi-Wan’s cheek. The touch was tender, a quiet promise, and it felt like everything Obi-Wan had been seeking in the world: a comfort, a refuge. A place where he could let down his walls, just for a moment.

“You don’t have to fight alone,” Cody murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m with you, Obi-Wan. I’ll follow you wherever you go. No matter what.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes met Cody’s again, and this time, he didn’t look away. The words that passed between them were unspoken, but they were felt—deep, deep within him.

And in that moment, Obi-Wan knew, with painful clarity, that no matter the cost, Cody was the one constant, the one person who had always been there for him, and that was something he couldn’t ignore anymore.

He didn’t need to say the words out loud. He didn’t need to explain it. It was there, in the quiet of the room, in the steadiness of Cody’s presence.

For the first time, Obi-Wan allowed himself to truly feel what was between them.

And as he sat there, feeling the warmth of Cody’s hand still resting on him, Obi-Wan finally allowed himself to surrender to the truth of his heart.

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through the cracks in the training hall's tall windows, casting long, angled shadows across the worn stone floor. The air was cool, but thick with the faint scent of sweat and leather. Obi-Wan and Cody stood across from each other, the space between them charged with the same tension that had always existed whenever they sparred, only now, it felt different. The absence of weapons felt intimate, somehow.

Obi-Wan adjusted his stance, adopting a defensive position. He had grown used to this—his movements light, reactive. He had always been the one to wait, to watch, to analyze. But today, there was a weight in the air that hadn’t been there before. A subtle awareness. His body felt strangely aware of Cody’s every movement, every shift of his muscles, every shift of his breath.

Cody, as always, moved with fluid precision. His eyes locked on Obi-Wan, calculating, assessing. His posture was more open today, a little less rigid than the first time they had sparred. Obi-Wan had noticed the change in the way Cody held himself around him—there was a slight ease to his movements, a silent camaraderie that had built up over time. But today, that unspoken bond felt like it might be the very thing that made Obi-Wan falter.

Cody took the first step forward, his body lunging with controlled aggression. Obi-Wan met him with a swift sidestep, his bare foot scraping across the floor as he pivoted. His arms stayed close, almost too defensive—his mind, it seemed, was miles away.

“You’re distracted,” Cody said, his voice cutting through the silence of the hall.

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed, just for a second. He couldn’t focus on anything other than Cody’s eyes, the way they sparkled with challenge, the way his lips curled into that familiar smirk.

“I’m not distracted,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice steadier than he felt, “I’m...thinking.”

“Oh, I know,” Cody’s voice dropped lower, teasing as he feinted a low kick, “and I’m waiting for you to stop thinking and start fighting.”

Obi-Wan, not wanting to give in so easily, waited a moment too long before he raised his hands in a defensive block, just in time to stop Cody’s incoming strike. The momentum of the blow pushed Obi-Wan back a half-step, and for a split second, he saw a flash of Cody’s grin. A grin that made Obi-Wan’s pulse spike.

The fight carried on—more dynamic now. Obi-Wan deflected a punch, slipping under Cody’s arm and landing a quick tap to his side. Cody countered with a sweep of his leg, but Obi-Wan dodged just in time. The fluidity of their movements, the rhythm they had developed over time, was near perfect—but Obi-Wan couldn’t shake the weight on his chest.

Every shift of Cody’s body, every breath he took, drew Obi-Wan’s attention more and more, until it was all he could focus on.

Cody pressed forward, never relenting. His hands were quicker, his footwork more aggressive. Obi-Wan barely kept up, his reactions slowing as his mind wandered back to last night—I trust you completely...I’ll follow you wherever you go. The words echoed in his thoughts, his pulse quickening again. He swallowed, struggling to keep his balance as Cody’s movements pushed him back.

At that moment, Cody feigned left, then switched to a powerful right jab aimed straight for Obi-Wan’s chest. Obi-Wan raised his arms to block, but the force of the strike, combined with his own distracted state, sent him off-balance.

In one fluid motion, Cody surged forward, and before Obi-Wan could regain his stance, Cody grabbed his wrist, twisted him, and in an instant, Obi-Wan was pinned flat on his back against the cold stone floor.

Obi-Wan blinked up, startled by how quickly it had happened. Cody’s weight pressed against him, his body just inches away, his breath heavy in the air between them. Their gazes locked, and Obi-Wan’s heart skipped a beat as he realized just how close they were. Cody’s smirk was wide, clearly pleased with himself.

“Your moves have grown predictable, Obi-Wan,” Cody said, the words light, but there was a glint of something more in his eyes.

Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat, and for the first time in this spar, he felt a flush creep up his neck. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this...aware of Cody. Of them. Of everything. The proximity, the feeling of Cody's chest against his own, his hands pinning his wrists to the stone—everything suddenly seemed magnified.

“Only to you,” Obi-Wan replied, trying to mask the sudden heat that had risen in his cheeks, but the words came out a little breathier than he intended. He was acutely aware of Cody’s smirk still lingering on his lips, of how Cody’s chest was rising and falling just above him.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Cody’s expression softened, and Obi-Wan realized how close they were. Too close. His pulse hammered in his ears, his thoughts scattered.

Cody’s fingers brushed against Obi-Wan’s wrist, and Obi-Wan’s breath hitched. He could feel the warmth of Cody’s hand even through the light layer of sweat on his skin, and for a second, his mind went completely blank.

Then, as if he had just realised the same thing, Cody pulled back slightly, giving Obi-Wan a chance to breathe, to think. He slowly released Obi-Wan’s wrists, sitting back on his knees, still hovering just above him.

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, trying to steady himself, to regain some semblance of control. He pushed himself up, his palms flat against the stone, avoiding Cody’s gaze for a moment. The blush on his face refused to fade.

“You’ve gotten better,” Obi-Wan said quietly, praying that his voice betrayed none of the turmoil that churned inside of him.

Cody chuckled, rising to his feet and offering a hand to Obi-Wan. “Don’t get too comfortable, I’ll only get better.”

Obi-Wan took Cody’s hand, letting him pull him up. His gaze flickered to Cody’s face, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met—just a moment longer than usual, enough for Obi-Wan’s heart to leap in his chest again. But he quickly turned away, brushing off the feeling.

The silence that stretched between them wasn’t awkward, not entirely. It was comfortable, but it carried the weight of something neither of them had yet addressed. Obi-Wan could feel the shift in their dynamic, could feel the distance close between them in ways he hadn’t expected, and it scared him more than anything.

Obi-Wan let himself breathe, still caught in the quiet echo of their moment.

If anything, this spar had made one thing very clear—he couldn’t keep running from the truth anymore.

~~~~~

Cody watched Obi-Wan in the quiet of the room, his heart heavy with the weight of their situation. Obi-Wan was pacing now, his thoughts clearly a tangled mess of frustration, doubt, and determination. Cody knew that Obi-Wan could feel it too—the suffocating sense of helplessness, the knowledge that the walls were closing in on them. The looming war, his father’s unwavering stance, and the growing dissonance between the two men were all making it harder to see the way forward.

Cody cleared his throat and leaned against the wall, watching Obi-Wan as he stopped pacing and turned toward him.

"I can’t keep doing this, Cody," Obi-Wan muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I can’t fight my father’s war, and I can’t stand by and let him make a decision that could destroy everything we’ve worked for."

Cody took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them. He could see how torn Obi-Wan was—how much the burden weighed on him. He was caught between his loyalty to his father, his duty to the kingdom, and his deep desire for peace. But Cody also knew there had to be a way to find out the truth, a way to get a clearer picture of what was really going on with the Jedi.

"You’re not alone in this, Obi-Wan," Cody said quietly. "And I think I have an idea."

Obi-Wan’s head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. "What kind of idea?"

Cody’s mind was racing, weighing the risks, but it was the only way that made sense. "What if we told Palpatine we need to go to Coruscant to speak with the Jedi? We could tell him that you need to see for yourself where the Jedi stand on the war. If they oppose the peace talks or try to undermine it in any way, we can stop this madness before it goes any further. You can tell him that you’ll stop opposing the war yourself."

Obi-Wan blinked, taking a moment to process the idea. His brow furrowed as he considered the possibility. "You’re suggesting we trick him into letting us go?"

Cody nodded. "Exactly. He’s been so sure that the Jedi are behind everything—that they’re just waiting to strike. But if we can get him to agree to sending us to Coruscant, we’ll be in the perfect position to see for ourselves. No more politics, no more manipulation. Just the truth. And if the Jedi stand against the peace, we’ll have no choice but to fight this war...but if they are truly aligned with peace, we can try to change your father’s mind."

Obi-Wan let out a deep breath, his gaze flicking to the floor as he weighed the suggestion. It was risky. Palpatine was no fool—he would likely see through any deception. But at the same time, it was one of their few options for getting the truth.

"It could work," Obi-Wan said quietly, more to himself than to Cody. "But what if Palpatine refuses? What if he sees through us and refuses to let us leave?"

"Then we’ll have no choice but to keep pushing," Cody said, his tone firm. "But I think this is our best shot. If we can’t convince him directly, maybe we can at least show him that the Jedi aren’t the enemies he thinks they are. And if we find out they’re not involved in the assassination attempts, maybe we can at least stop him from dragging us into a war."

Obi-Wan looked at Cody, his eyes serious, but there was something else in them too—something softer. "And you’ll stand by me, no matter what happens?"

Cody didn’t hesitate. He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering as he met Obi-Wan’s eyes. "Always."

Obi-Wan’s shoulders relaxed a little, and he gave Cody a small, grateful nod. "Alright. We’ll tell my father the plan. We’ll go to Coruscant and see the Jedi for ourselves. But we do it my way—we do it carefully, and we don’t push too hard. I can’t afford to lose his trust now, not when we might still be able to turn this around."

"Understood," Cody said with a brief nod. "We’ll be careful. And we’ll make sure we get the answers we need, one way or another."

Obi-Wan paused for a moment, his eyes softening as he looked at Cody. It was as if, for a moment, he realized just how much this man had become a constant in his life—how much Cody had been there, through every decision, every moment of doubt.

"Thank you, Cody," Obi-Wan said quietly, his voice thick with gratitude. "You’re not just my knight. You’re more than that. You’re...you're the only person I trust completely."

Cody felt his heart give a small, but significant, thrum. His gaze softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I know, Obi-Wan. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. Whatever happens."

Obi-Wan nodded, his chest feeling just a little lighter. For the first time in a while, he felt like they might have a chance.

Together.

~~~~~

The grand chamber was even more oppressive than usual. Shadows stretched long across the walls, the faint flicker of torches casting a dim glow that couldn’t quite reach the corners. Obi-Wan had no love for this place—his father’s throne room, where every word and every move was a calculated play in an endless chess match. But today, it felt like the air itself was thick with impending consequences.

He stepped forward, the heavy door creaking shut behind him. King Palpatine sat on his throne as always, his eyes glowing with a mixture of cunning and cold calculation. He looked up from his papers slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, his gaze meeting Obi-Wan’s with an expression that was both weary and triumphant.

“Ah, Obi-Wan,” King Palpatine’s voice was like honey, but there was a sharpness beneath it. “I was expecting you.”

Obi-Wan frowned slightly, stepping forward, but keeping his distance. The war was imminent, and every step forward felt like a dance on a razor's edge. He had to be careful. The last thing he wanted was to show any weakness, any sign of uncertainty. Not to Palpatine. Not now.

“I’m here to speak with you about the situation with the Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, his tone calm, deliberate. “I believe we need to go to Coruscant. To see their stance on this war for ourselves. We need to speak with King Qui-Gon, face to face. If the Jedi are truly against this peace, or if they continue to oppose it, then I will...I will support the war.”

King Palpatine’s lips curled into a thin smile, too knowing. Too practiced. He had anticipated this, Obi-Wan realized. Every word, every action, was part of a larger plan—one that Obi-Wan was still only beginning to understand.

“I see,” King Palpatine mused, folding his hands together with a slow, measured movement. “You’re not entirely wrong to want to see things with your own eyes. The Jedi’s intentions have been less than clear, haven’t they? Their loyalty...questionable.”

Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched, but he kept his expression neutral. He didn’t trust the king, but if he could play this game for long enough, perhaps he could find out exactly what Palpatine had in mind. And if he was lucky, he might even be able to stop it.

“Was the assassination attempt not enough?” King Palpatine asked.

“I still find it hard to believe that they were behind it”, Obi-Wan said. “They seemed to be completely for peace during the negotiation. This is why I want to go again, to see if that so called peace has wavered.”

Palpatine nodded. “A wise decision.”

“So,” Obi-Wan continued, his voice steady, “you’ll allow us to go?”

Palpatine leaned forward, the gleam in his eyes sharpening as he studied Obi-Wan. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension. Then, finally, Palpatine spoke again, his voice low and even, but filled with a certain cold satisfaction.

“Of course,” he said, as though granting a favour. “I had already anticipated your request. You are not the first to think that seeing the Jedi’s stance in person might change things. I would not expect anything less from you, Obi-Wan. You’re far too loyal to your ideals to ignore the facts.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach tightened. Palpatine had expected this? How had he known? He didn’t want to think about it too hard, because the implications were too unsettling.

“But,” Palpatine’s voice grew sharper now, his eyes narrowing, “don’t think this means you’ve won. You’re still a prince under my rule. And no matter what you learn, the course of this kingdom will not change because of your...idealism.”

Obi-Wan’s heart raced, his thoughts briefly flashing to Cody’s quiet resolve in their chambers, to the growing burden of what they were trying to do. “I understand. But I will not sit idly by while this kingdom is dragged into a war that could destroy everything.”

Palpatine’s expression darkened slightly, though his tone remained eerily calm. “Oh, I know. That’s why you’ll go. Because you’re a prince. Because you care, and because the truth is important to you. I believe this trip will show you exactly where the Jedi stand.”

Obi-Wan nodded, though a tight feeling remained in his chest. Something about this conversation didn’t sit right. But he couldn’t quite place it. Maybe he was just paranoid. Maybe it was his father’s unsettling calm, his too-knowing eyes. But Obi-Wan had always trusted his instincts, and today, they screamed at him that this was part of Palpatine’s plan.

Palpatine leaned back in his throne, a sly smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I believe you’ll find what you’re looking for in Coruscant, Obi-Wan. But I must warn you...” The king’s voice dropped a fraction, becoming almost conversational, as if he were telling Obi-Wan a secret. “Not everything is as simple as it seems. The Jedi have always been... masters of manipulation. Don’t be fooled by their smooth words. They will try to convince you they are on the side of peace. But be careful, my son.”

Obi-Wan swallowed. It felt like a trap. Palpatine was pushing him further down a path he had no interest in walking. But he had to keep going. He had to.

"I’ll be careful, Father," Obi-Wan said, nodding slightly, though the words felt hollow.

Palpatine’s smile deepened, satisfaction playing across his features. “Good. I expect you to make the right decision when the time comes.”

Obi-Wan turned to leave, his heart pounding with unease. But before he reached the door, Palpatine called after him, his voice like ice.

“One more thing, Obi-Wan,” Palpatine said softly, the words hanging in the air like a warning. “This war is necessary for the survival of the kingdom. Remember that. Don’t forget who is watching your every move.”

Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t answer. He simply walked out of the room, the door closing behind him with a final, resounding thud.

~~~~~

Cody had been waiting outside the throne room for what felt like an eternity, the tension in his own body mirroring the tightness in Obi-Wan’s posture when he emerged. He could see it in the prince’s eyes immediately: something wasn’t right. Obi-Wan had been calm during their brief conversation before the meeting, but now, there was something different. A distant edge.

"Obi-Wan?" Cody asked, stepping forward, his voice soft but laced with concern.

Obi-Wan met his gaze, his lips pressed into a tight line. "He agreed to the plan. We’re going to Coruscant."

Cody frowned. "But?"

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, and Cody could see his mind turning over the words, weighing the heaviness of the moment. "He knew we’d ask. He’s been expecting it."

Cody’s chest tightened. "What does that mean?"

Obi-Wan swallowed. “I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

Anakin stood near the open archway of the east courtyard, the stone balcony catching the last of the setting sun. His arms were folded across his chest, expression unreadable as he looked out over the capital. The wind played with the edges of his cloak, but he didn’t move.

He had known something was coming.

Rex stood a few paces behind him, quiet and still in the manner only a soldier with years of discipline could manage. But Anakin could feel his guard's tension. The same unease that had been building inside him ever since the negotiations with the Jedi had fallen apart. Ever since their father had started pushing harder for war.

When the footsteps echoed down the corridor, Anakin didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Obi-Wan.

And Cody, of course. Always Cody.

The brothers locked eyes as Obi-Wan and Cody stepped onto the balcony. Anakin searched his older brother’s face, and found what he feared: doubt. Not weakness—but something close. That quiet weariness that came from standing alone for too long.

“You spoke to him,” Anakin said flatly.

Obi-Wan nodded. “He agreed. We’re going to Coruscant.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow, lips tightening. “Just like that?”

Obi-Wan’s silence was answer enough.

“He was expecting it,” Cody said, stepping forward. “This wasn’t a concession—it was a calculated move. He’s letting us go because it serves his narrative.”

Anakin looked between them, piecing the rest together. “He thinks you’ll return with proof that the Jedi are behind all of this. That they’re stalling peace. That they’re the enemy.”

Obi-Wan didn’t speak for a moment. When he did, his voice was low, guarded. “He warned me. Told me not to be fooled by their words. That the Jedi are manipulators. That everything I’ll see will be lies.”

Anakin’s jaw clenched. “Of course he said that.”

They stood in silence, the tension lingering between them. It was Rex who broke it.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, stepping beside Cody.

Cody glanced at Obi-Wan, who gave a small nod. Then, with calm precision, Cody laid it out.

“We present it as a fact-finding mission. We go to the Jedi Court, meet with King Qui-Gon, and see what their position really is. If they’re truly for peace, we come back with something—anything—that can slow King Palpatine down. Or at least expose that this war isn’t as righteous as he wants the people to believe.”

Anakin listened, arms crossed, but his mind already raced ahead.

“You know he’ll be watching every move,” Anakin said. “He’ll probably send someone with you.”

“We’re counting on it,” Obi-Wan said. “If he’s watching, then so is the court. And if we’re careful, if we’re smart...we might be able to slip the leash just enough to see the truth.”

Rex leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but firm. “And you think the Jedi really aren’t involved in the assassination attempts?”

“I know they’re not,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Or at least—I know what peace looks like. I saw it, even in their disappointment. It didn’t look like a faction preparing for war.”

Cody added, “And if we do find signs of treachery, we deal with it then. But right now, no one’s looking for the truth. They’re looking for a justification.”

Anakin exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting back toward the horizon. There was still enough sunlight to catch the gold in the city’s towers—symbols of power, of legacy. Of a throne he had never asked for but could never escape.

“I believe you,” he said finally.

Obi-Wan blinked, surprised by the immediacy of it. “You do?”

Anakin turned back to face him fully. “The Jedi didn’t start this. You’re right—something’s not adding up. Father has been moving pieces on a board no one else can see for months now. Every decision feels like it’s already made, every reaction already accounted for. But this...” He looked to Cody. “This is the first thing that hasn’t been on his terms. Even if he thinks it is.”

Rex nodded in agreement. “I’ll see to it that no one on the security team leaks the mission details beyond what’s necessary. If you’re going to Coruscant, we’ll keep the loyalists out of your way.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked from Rex to Anakin. “You’re both risking a lot by backing us.”

Anakin gave a short, dry laugh. “Obi-Wan, I was born into this crown, but I never asked for the throne. The only reason I haven’t walked away from all this is because of you. You’re the only one who’s ever stood up to him. If you’re going to Coruscant to stop this war, then I’m with you.”

“And I go where you go,” Rex added simply.

Cody gave Anakin a brief, approving nod, the kind that spoke volumes without a word. There was trust there—hard-won, but absolute.

Obi-Wan looked at them both, his face losing some of its edge. “Then we prepare,” he said. “We leave at dawn.”

Anakin clapped a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “We’ll buy you as much time as we can from here. But whatever you do...come back alive. Both of you.”

Obi-Wan gave a faint smile, weary but real. “We’ll try.”

As the sun dipped below the towers, the four men stood together on the balcony—not as soldiers or princes, not as pawns of a war—but as brothers and allies, clinging to the last fragile thread of hope.

Tomorrow, they would face the heart of the storm.

And they would not face it alone.

~~~~~

The sound of wheels rolling on gravel filled the space like a steady breath, soft and rhythmic against the silence that surrounded Obi-Wan in his seat. The carriage was dimly lit, the glow of the sun setting flickering through the windows with a faint gold light. It cast long shadows across everyone’s face.

Cody sat next to him, arms folded, helmet resting on his lap. His brow was furrowed, his expression calm but sharp, always watching, always thinking. Rex and Anakin sat across from them.

Obi-Wan thought of the other day. He remembered the exact pressure of the mattress under him, the scent of woodsmoke from the hearth in the corner of his chambers. The silence before Cody had walked in—how suffocating it had been. How alone he had felt.

And how quickly all of that had changed the moment Cody crossed the threshold.

He could still feel the warmth of Cody's hand on the back of his neck, the way his voice had steadied the storm within him. Cody hadn’t said the words outright, but he didn’t need to. His presence was a declaration in itself: I’m here. I’m yours. I’ll stand with you, even if the world turns against us both.

And Obi-Wan had felt it—truly felt it—for the first time without trying to deny it.

His heart still ached with the weight of the moment. Not from fear, not even from guilt.

From the overwhelming truth of it all.

He had always loved Cody. Somewhere between the quiet moments in the field, the nights spent tending to one another’s wounds, and the hundreds of things Cody had done without ever asking for recognition—stepping in front of an arrow meant for Obi-Wan, holding him through long nights of doubt, standing with him now—Obi-Wan had fallen in love.

And now, in the silence of the carriage, every breath he took seemed to echo with that realisation.

Cody looked up suddenly, as if sensing Obi-Wan’s thoughts. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just that look. Cody didn’t smile, but his gaze softened, and Obi-Wan felt warmth settle deep in his chest.

He dropped his eyes and exhaled, forcing himself to focus. Later. There would be time later—if they were lucky.

If they survived.

Cody shifted, breaking the silence. “We’re three hours out.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Good.”

Anakin’s voice broke into the quiet. “No signs of trailing ships. Father’s keeping this quiet. For now.”

Obi-Wan looked toward his younger brother and offered a tired half-smile. “He’s not keeping it quiet for our benefit. He wants to control the narrative when we return.”

“If we return,” Rex muttered, half to himself.

Cody shot him a glance, but said nothing.

Anakin crossed his arms. “Alright. Let’s go over the plan again. I want to hear it straight from you.”

Obi-Wan sat up straighter, nodding. “We land under diplomatic pretense. The excuse is observation—we’re sent as envoys, not combatants. Our cover is that we’re verifying the Jedi’s position for Father. That we want to know, beyond a doubt, whether they intend to oppose the kingdom.”

“And we stick to that?” Anakin asked.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied. “To everyone but King Qui-Gon. We speak to him in confidence—Cody and I. I believe he’ll listen, especially if he understands what’s truly at stake.”

Cody added, “If Qui-Gon confirms they support peace, we’ll request written affirmation—proof we can bring back. But if they don’t...”

“Then we prepare for the worst,” Obi-Wan finished quietly. “But I don’t believe they’ll fail us. Not all of them. I saw their faces in the negotiations. I saw their hesitation when the talks fell apart.”

Rex frowned. “What if King Palpatine tries to twist the message no matter what you bring back?”

Anakin nodded. “You can’t beat him in a game of words, Obi-Wan. He’ll twist everything.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said softly. “But I’m not going to beat him with words.”

Anakin’s brow lifted slightly. “Then how?”

Obi-Wan looked at Cody, who returned the glance with quiet resolve.

“With truth,” he said. “With people who still believe in it.”

There was a beat of silence as that hung in the air.

Anakin unfolded his arms, his eyes more distant now. “Then you’d better find it fast. Because if this war starts...I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold him off back home.”

Obi-Wan offered a slow nod. “We will. He leaned back in his seat again, letting the silence return. For a few long seconds, he said nothing.

Then Cody leaned over, whispering into Obi-Wan’s ear, “You okay?”

Obi-Wan glanced sideways, letting a small, tired smile ghost across his lips. “No.”

Cody gave a soft chuckle. “Fair.”

A pause. Then Obi-Wan spoke again, quieter this time. “What do you think will happen, if this war does break out?”

Cody studied him, his face unreadable for a second. “A lot more people would be drafted for knighthood, I’d imagine. King Palpatine would probably frame anyone who volunteers to look like heroes. The Jedi and Sith’s already rocky relationship would be completely tarnished. The war would be a long one, too. A lot of people would lose their lives, their homes. Everything.”

Obi-Wan’s throat felt tight. “What do you think Father wants from this war? I know you’ve said control, but is that really worth the bloodshed, or the risk of losing our kingdom instead?” 

Cody rested his hand over Obi-Wan’s, a silent promise between them. “I don’t know, but despite whatever happens, I’m here.”

Obi-Wan didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

The stars outside rushed past in quiet rivers of light.

And for the first time in what felt like years, Obi-Wan allowed himself the smallest measure of hope.

~~~~~

Rex had never seen anything like Coruscant.

The city rose like a monument to the stars, each tower a spire of glass and stone stretching impossibly high, catching the early morning light in a dozen mirrored colors. Carriages and wagons drove across the roads in orderly streams, a dance of diplomacy and technology so precise it felt unreal.

He stepped down from the carriage behind Anakin, instinctively falling half a pace to the prince's left. His armor had been polished for the occasion, though he’d insisted on wearing the blue-gray plates that marked him as a soldier, not a diplomat. He didn’t trust the shine of the place—not the clean smiles of the guards lining the platform, nor the high steward in emerald robes approaching with a too-perfect bow.

Everything was in place. Which meant someone had arranged it that way.

“Sir Rex of the Royal Guard,” the steward said, bowing again. “We welcome you in peace, and under the neutral laws of court.”

Rex gave a short nod. He didn’t speak; Anakin hadn’t given the signal yet.

Obi-Wan and Cody disembarked last. The moment Obi-Wan’s boots hit the stone, Rex saw something shift in him. Not quite a wince—but a tension settling in, like he was bracing for something deep and personal. Rex’s eyes flicked to Cody, who stood unusually close, as though ready to intercept the wind if it turned against them.

The steward continued, offering the standard courtesies, but Rex had already tuned him out. His eyes were moving constantly—doors, balconies, soldier placements. Patterns of movement. The layout of the landing site suggested a controlled path inward, one entrance and no easy exits. He didn’t like it.

They were led through towering halls veined with gold and glass, murals of old battles and great treaties etched into the walls. Everything was immaculate. Empty of dust, full of history. It should’ve been impressive.

It mostly made Rex itch under his collar.

Anakin, to his credit, looked more composed than Rex felt. His steps were steady, expression cool—only a slight tightening of the jaw hinted at what Rex knew was running through his mind. Anakin had always been good at hiding nerves. Better than Rex. But the prince’s fingers twitched subtly at his sides, and Rex clocked it immediately.

The Jedi palace wasn't built for comfort. It was built to impress. And to control.

They were taken to a private antechamber while King Qui-Gon prepared to receive them. The room was all muted stone and arched ceilings, candles flickering in sconces along the walls. Rex stood near the doorway, posting up with silent discipline, while Anakin moved to the center, glancing over a wide, stained-glass window that overlooked the inner courtyard.

Obi-Wan and Cody exchanged a few low words—too quiet for Rex to hear, though he wasn’t trying to. The two of them had been like that the whole trip. In step. In sync. Sharing looks with entire conversations behind them.

Eventually, Obi-Wan turned toward Anakin. “We’re going ahead. King Qui-Gon will meet us in the inner chamber. He asked for a private audience.”

Anakin gave a short nod. “We’ll hold position here.”

Rex stepped forward slightly. “You want one of us with you?”

Cody shook his head. “Wouldn’t help. This has to look like trust.”

Obi-Wan gave Rex a look—calm, but firm. “Stay with Anakin.”

Rex hesitated, then inclined his head. “Understood.”

He watched as the two of them departed, the door closing behind them with a heavy, final sound. The silence afterward felt longer than it was.

After a beat, Rex shifted closer to Cody’s usual position against the wall, staring at the empty space he'd left. Then he looked at Anakin, who had moved to sit, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

Quiet moment. Good enough.

He turned to the side hallway and caught Cody just before the guards took up position again.

“Walk with me for a second,” Rex said under his breath.

Cody raised an eyebrow but followed without a word.

They walked a few paces down the hall—enough to be out of earshot, still in sight of the door.

Rex kept his voice low. “You and Obi-Wan.”

Cody glanced over, unimpressed. “What about us?”

“You’re not exactly subtle,” Rex said dryly. “Not asking for details, just... trying to understand. Is this new?”

Cody paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. Not defensive. Just calculating.

“We’re friends,” he said simply. “Trusted ones.”

Rex huffed. “Right.”

Cody shot him a look. “You got something you want to say?”

Rex shook his head. “No. You’re solid. He’s lucky to have someone like you in his corner. Just wanted to know what’s going on, that’s all.”

“Same risks as always,” Cody said. “Politics. Treason. Death.”

A beat.

“But I won’t let him fall, Rex. That’s not just duty. That’s...me.”

Rex nodded slowly. He understood more than Cody probably realized.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m glad you’re happy, Cody.”

They returned in silence. Anakin didn’t even look up as they reentered—his eyes were still fixed on the window, watching something beyond the city.

Rex resumed his place by the door.

He wasn’t sure how long Obi-Wan and Cody would be gone. Minutes. Hours, maybe. Time always bent strange in places like this. But until they returned, Rex knew his job.

Protect Anakin. Watch the doors.

And prepare for what came next, because this wasn’t just a mission anymore.

This was the edge of something new.

Something big.

Chapter Text

The soft click of the door echoed too loud in the antechamber. Anakin didn’t move at first, still perched at the edge of the marble bench beneath the stained-glass window, hands loosely clasped under his chin.

He let the silence stretch a little longer.

Then he glanced sideways at Obi-Wan.

“You know,” he said, voice almost too casual, “if you’re going to spend half the journey here staring at Cody like he’s the last glass of water in the desert, you might want to be a little more discreet about it.”

Obi-Wan—who had been walking toward the carved table near the far wall—stopped mid-step.

“I wasn’t—” he started, then cut himself off, turning his head just enough to glare at Anakin. “It’s not like that.”

Anakin raised both eyebrows. “It’s exactly like that.”

Obi-Wan exhaled through his nose, quietly, like someone trying to herd stormclouds back into the sky. “We’ve been under enormous pressure. Emotional strain. You’re misreading what you saw.”

“Oh, I’m misreading you holding his hand before the carriage stopped?” Anakin asked, tilting his head. “Or was I misreading the way you kept looking at him like he might disappear if you blinked too long?”

Obi-Wan looked away, walking slowly toward the far wall, as if he could put distance between himself and the question.

Anakin let the moment hang, then added more gently, “I’m not judging you, Obi-Wan.”

That made his brother pause again.

“I’m really not,” Anakin continued. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’ve known for a long time that something was there.”

Obi-Wan turned slowly, arms crossed now—not defensive, but uncertain. “It’s complicated.”

Anakin gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Of course it is. You’re a prince and he’s your knight. He’s sworn to the crown. Our father would see it as betrayal if he ever found out, and the court would use it as leverage in half a dozen ways. You think I don’t know how complicated it is?”

He stood now, stepping forward, voice quieter. “But you’re not just your duty. Not just pawns in his game. You and Cody…there’s something real there. I see it. You’ve earned that.”

Obi-Wan looked away, his jaw tense. “Even if it’s real… what am I supposed to do with it? We don’t get to want things, Anakin. Not like that.”

Anakin was quiet for a beat.

Then, gently, “Don’t lie to me, Obi-Wan. Not about this.”

Their eyes met again—and for a moment, Obi-Wan looked like he might actually say something honest. Something vulnerable.

But the door opened behind them with a quiet creak, and both brothers turned instinctively as Cody and Rex stepped back inside.

Obi-Wan straightened, whatever he'd been about to say dissolving in the shift of air.

Anakin didn’t miss the way Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked to Cody immediately. Didn’t miss the tiny breath his brother let out, barely perceptible, like the tension had lifted just a fraction.

Cody gave a nod toward them both. “We’re clear. No movement in the hall.”

Rex returned to his place near the door, but not before giving Anakin a quick glance—questioning, maybe. Anakin offered the barest shake of his head.

Not now.

Cody approached Obi-Wan, stopping just half a step closer than he would have with anyone else. Not a word passed between them, but Obi-Wan’s shoulders eased subtly at his presence.

Anakin looked away, moving back toward the window. He didn’t need to say anything else.

He’d already made his point.

He just hoped Obi-Wan held onto it—because whatever storm was coming, the only way they’d survive it was together.

And it was clear now more than ever that Cody was going to be a part of it.

~~~~~

The hall was quieter than he expected.

Even with the ornate double doors of the inner chamber yawning open before them, there was a stillness inside that felt heavy. Not ominous—at least not yet—but weighted, like the air itself was holding its breath.

Obi-Wan stepped inside with Cody at his side, the hem of his cloak brushing the polished stone floor. The doors closed behind them with a soft, resonant thud.

The chamber was built like a cathedral: high arched ceilings, stained glass bathing the space in dappled color, and an intricate mosaic underfoot shaped like a compass rose. At its center stood a tall figure in layered ceremonial robes—dignified, calm, ageless in a way only the Jedi could be.

King Qui-Gon Jinn.

He turned as they approached, hands clasped in front of him. His expression was unreadable—but not cold. Merely cautious.

“Prince Obi-Wan,” he said, inclining his head. “Sir Cody. Thank you for coming.”

Obi-Wan returned the nod, stopping just a pace from the mosaic’s center. “We come in peace, Your Majesty. Not just in words—but in purpose.”

Qui-Gon regarded him with the kind of quiet intensity that made it clear he missed nothing. “That remains to be seen. Speak your truth.”

Obi-Wan exhaled slowly. “My father wants this war. We believe he’s already set it in motion behind closed doors. But not everyone in the palace agrees with him. We’re here because we need to know—truly—where the Jedi stand. Whether peace is still possible.”

Qui-Gon studied him. “You are your father’s son. And yet you speak like a man walking a different path.”

“I’m trying to,” Obi-Wan said. “But I need to know if we’ll be walking it alone.”

There was a beat of silence. Cody stood still beside him, the perfect image of discipline, though Obi-Wan could feel his presence like a shield—anchoring, steadying. Qui-Gon’s eyes flicked to the commander briefly, then back to Obi-Wan.

“We did not sabotage the treaty,” Qui-Gon said plainly. “Nor the negotiations. We wanted them to succeed.”

“That’s not what the royal court believes,” Cody said.

“No,” Qui-Gon replied. “Because your father has crafted a story that makes the Jedi into enemies. He knows how to win hearts before a single sword is drawn.”

Obi-Wan nodded grimly. “Then we need to show them another truth. One stronger than the lie.”

The king’s gaze sharpened slightly. “There are still Jedi who will fight. Some think a war is the only way to survive what’s coming. But I—” he stepped closer, his voice dropping to something almost like sorrow—“I know war will not save this kingdom. It will tear us apart.”

Obi-Wan felt something shift in his chest. Hope. Real hope.

“If you’re willing,” Qui-Gon continued, “we can send an envoy with you. Jedi who still believe in peace. If the people hear it from us directly, there’s a chance—”

A sound cut through the hall.

Whistling. Fast. Close.

A heartbeat later, the far wall of the chamber exploded inward with a deafening roar.

Stone shattered. Glass burst in every direction. The wind shrieked through the wreckage like a living thing.

Obi-Wan was thrown backward, crashing into a pillar as smoke and dust engulfed the room. He hit the floor hard, ears ringing, heart pounding—but he was already scrambling up again.

“Cody—!”

Through the haze, he spotted a figure half-buried beneath the fallen archway. The edge of a red cloak. A familiar armored arm twisted at an unnatural angle.

No.

Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate.

He crossed the debris-strewn floor in a rush, heedless of the flames licking at the shattered mural or the thick grit in the air. He dropped to his knees beside Cody, hands already moving over his armor, checking for breath, blood, anything.

“Cody—Cody, look at me. Come on—”

Cody groaned faintly, eyes fluttering as consciousness flickered in and out. His face was pale beneath the dust and smoke, his breathing shallow.

There was blood at his temple. More under his chestplate.

“Stay with me,” Obi-Wan breathed. His hands trembled as they pressed to Cody’s side, trying to find where the damage was worst. “You’re alright. You’re going to be alright.”

Behind him, guards were shouting. Qui-Gon’s voice rose above them, commanding calm, calling for healers.

But all Obi-Wan could hear was Cody’s ragged breath.

All he could see was the man who had stood beside him through fire and frost—now broken at his feet.

“You’re not leaving me,” Obi-Wan whispered. “You hear me? You don’t get to leave me.”

Cody’s fingers twitched weakly, brushing against Obi-Wan’s wrist. A promise. A plea.

Obi-Wan gripped his hand in both of his own.

Not as a prince. Not as a soldier.

But as someone who loved him.

And as the dust began to settle and the world came back into focus, Obi-Wan Kenobi knelt in the rubble of a shattered hall, holding on to the one thing he could not bear to lose.

And swore, silently, that whoever had done this—whoever had tried to take Cody from him—

Would never touch him again.

~~~~~

The scent of smoke still clung to his robes.

He stood just outside the healer’s chamber, arms folded behind his back, silent as the medics worked. The chamber was dim and cool, lit only by enchanted sconces and the faint flicker of runestones embedded in the stone walls. A warded curtain separated Cody’s cot from the rest of the room, though it did little to muffle the occasional groan of pain or the healer’s quiet spells.

Obi-Wan hadn’t left his side.

He sat beside the cot, eyes fixed on the commander’s face, his fingers lightly resting against Cody’s wrist as if tethering him to life by will alone. Not speaking. Not moving. Just there, silent and unshakable. But Qui-Gon saw the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders curled protectively inward. The way his gaze flicked up each time Cody stirred—snapping into focus like a man terrified of blinking.

The fear in Obi-Wan’s eyes wasn’t for himself.

Qui-Gon had seen it before.

He remembered the failed negotiations—a neutral ground chosen to prevent either court from gaining political leverage. They had spoken for barely an hour before the arrow had flown swift and silent, aimed for Obi-Wan’s heart.

Cody had moved without hesitation.

The talks dissolved after that. Too much distrust. Too much blood. And yet the only moment Qui-Gon truly remembered with clarity from that day was the look on Obi-Wan’s face as he dropped to his knees beside Cody—panic breaking through the prince’s ever-controlled expression like a dam shattering.

He saw that same look now.

Qui-Gon exhaled slowly, letting his gaze drift across the room. Not far away, Prince Anakin stood near the archway, Rex at his side. Neither of them spoke, but the worry was plain in their posture—the way Anakin kept glancing at his brother, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The way Rex, so often unreadable, stood stiff and coiled like he was one breath away from demanding answers, or blood.

They didn’t just care about Cody.

They cared about Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon’s brow furrowed slightly, his thoughts returning to the young man now keeping vigil by the cot.

Obi-Wan was not born to the Sith kingdom—that much was known. He had been adopted as a baby by King Palpatine, who claimed the child had been abandoned during one of the border raids. A sad tale, but not unique. Palpatine had spun it well: the image of the merciful king taking in an orphan, raising him alongside his trueborn son.

Qui-Gon had always believed the bones of that story.

But now… he wasn’t sure.

There was something about Obi-Wan—something that had always pulled at the edges of his memory. Not his title or training. Not even his manner, which was far too noble and introspective for the son of a warmonger.

Something deeper.

His face.

His voice.

The shape of his hands, the quiet power of his presence. Even the way he sat now—shoulders tense, grief buried just beneath the surface—reminded Qui-Gon of someone else.

Of his son.

Ben.

He had only held the child for a single hour. A boy with wide, curious eyes and tufts of reddish-gold hair, born in the palace on a night when the stars were hidden behind rain. A boy who had been taken.

Stolen.

The kingdom had scoured the lands, but no trail had ever surfaced. Qui-Gon’s enemies had claimed it was fate, that the child was too weak to survive. Others whispered it had been the Jedi themselves, hiding some secret within the royal line.

But Qui-Gon had felt his son’s life vanish, not end. He had never stopped believing that Ben was out there somewhere, alive.

Now, as he watched Obi-Wan gently brush soot from Cody’s brow, whisper something too soft to hear, a cold certainty began to coil in his chest.

Could it be…?

It was impossible.

And yet...

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting the image settle—Obi-Wan’s face overlaying the memory of the child he’d lost.

No. Not Obi-Wan.

Ben.

The resemblance wasn’t just physical. It was the spirit. The way Obi-Wan carried himself—as if born with the weight of expectation. The quiet honor in him. The compassion.

But if it was true—if Palpatine had taken Ben and raised him as his own son, sculpted him into a political weapon—then the betrayal ran far deeper than any war Qui-Gon had prepared for.

And worse still: Obi-Wan didn’t know.

He couldn’t know.

Qui-Gon opened his eyes, steadying his breath.

Now wasn’t the time for revelations. Now was the time to hold the line—for peace, for the wounded commander, and for the sons who stood unknowingly at the center of a storm that had been building for nearly two decades.

Cody stirred behind the curtain. Obi-Wan leaned forward, murmuring something low and urgent.

Anakin took a step closer, eyes softening.

Rex hovered at the edge of the room, watchful, silent, loyal.

And Qui-Gon stood at the threshold of truth.

He only prayed there would be time to tell him it, before the war claimed them all.

~~~~~

The healer’s room had fallen silent again, save for the quiet hum of soothing magic and the occasional murmur from the attending medics. The constant pulse of worry had not left Obi-Wan’s chest; his body felt heavy with it, as if he carried the weight of everyone in the room with him. His eyes remained on Cody, who was still unconscious, though more stable now, thanks to the healer’s swift work. His shoulder had been bandaged, and the bleeding had stopped, but Obi-Wan could still feel the lingering sting of fear in his gut.

It was almost overwhelming.

His fingers flexed at his side, aching from their tight grip on Cody’s wrist. He knew it wasn’t rational to feel so tethered to him, but Cody had always been there, standing at his side without question, without hesitation. Even now, as the commander slept under the soft glow of magical light, Obi-Wan couldn’t stop thinking about how easily everything could have ended in tragedy.

His thoughts were broken when Qui-Gon’s shadow fell over him.

Obi-Wan blinked, feeling the tension in his body slowly shift as he looked up at the Jedi king. Qui-Gon’s eyes softened as he crouched down in front of him, his gaze assessing Obi-Wan with the same quiet intensity he always carried.

“Your arm,” Qui-Gon said, his voice low and steady. Obi-Wan glanced down, surprised to find that his right forearm was indeed bleeding, a faint trickle running from where he had barely felt the cut in the chaos of the explosion. He must have grazed something sharp during the attack, but the adrenaline had masked the pain until now.

Obi-Wan shook his head, trying to dismiss it. “It’s nothing.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes didn’t waver, and his hand reached forward, gently pulling Obi-Wan’s cloak away from his shoulders. Obi-Wan winced slightly at the touch, feeling the fabric pull against the raw wound, but he didn’t protest. It had been a while since someone had cared for him this way—so calmly, without any sense of obligation.

Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment, then began to unbuckle Obi-Wan’s robe with care. His movements were deliberate, but there was something in his eyes—a glimmer of something that Obi-Wan couldn’t quite place. For a moment, there was a strange stillness between them. Obi-Wan was aware of the warmth of Qui-Gon’s presence, his closeness. He wasn’t sure why, but he found himself feeling... vulnerable.

As Qui-Gon peeled the fabric from his shoulder and upper arm, Obi-Wan glanced away, suddenly uncomfortable with the rawness of it all. He had been trained to be strong, to be composed, but in this moment, with Qui-Gon at his side, it felt as if the armor he wore had cracked just a little bit.

Qui-Gon’s hands froze for a heartbeat.

Obi-Wan’s gaze snapped back to him.

Qui-Gon’s fingers hovered just above the wound, but his eyes weren’t focused on it.

Instead, they were locked on Obi-Wan’s forearm, where a small but distinct birthmark sat just below his elbow. It was a star-shaped mark, faint, almost translucent, but still visible against his skin. It had always been there. Obi-Wan had never thought much of it, never questioned its existence.

But now, with Qui-Gon’s eyes trained on it, something in the air shifted. Obi-Wan’s pulse quickened. He could see the way Qui-Gon’s face had gone still, his mouth parted as if he had been struck by something deeply personal.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “What is it?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

Qui-Gon blinked, his eyes snapping back to Obi-Wan’s face. His expression softened, and he resumed the task of wrapping Obi-Wan’s wound, but there was a heaviness in his movements now.

“It’s nothing,” Qui-Gon muttered, though his voice betrayed him. He finished securing the bandage, the cloth soft against Obi-Wan’s skin. But Obi-Wan wasn’t buying it.

“What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan pressed, unable to hold back his curiosity and growing unease. “Why did you stop?”

Qui-Gon finished the task in silence, his fingers moving with the practiced precision of someone who had seen the worst the galaxy could throw at them. When he was done, he sat beside Obi-Wan on the cot, his eyes distant for a moment.

Obi-Wan’s heart raced, but he didn’t move, didn’t flinch.

Qui-Gon sighed heavily, a sound full of weariness. “It’s a long story, Obi-Wan,” he began quietly, his voice thick with something Obi-Wan couldn’t identify. “One that is best told when your friend”—he paused to glance toward Cody—“is out of harm’s way.”

Obi-Wan’s confusion deepened. He glanced at Qui-Gon’s face, searching for something—anything—that might explain what had just happened. “What are you talking about?” he demanded. “I want to know why.”

Qui-Gon closed his eyes briefly, a flash of something darker crossing his expression. When he spoke again, his voice was low, carrying the weight of a secret long buried.

“Ben,” he said softly. “That birthmark...I knew a child once who bore the same one.”

Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat. His stomach dropped. He knew the name, of course—Ben—the child Qui-Gon had once lost. The child who had disappeared, stolen in the dead of night, and had never been found.

Obi-Wan blinked, the room seeming to tilt around him. “Ben?” His voice was barely a whisper. “That...that was me?”

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Obi-Wan’s face. “It’s not just the mark. It’s...there’s a resemblance too. A power, a presence I’ve always sensed in you, though I didn’t understand it until now.”

Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment, the weight of Qui-Gon’s words sinking deep into him. His mind raced, a whirlwind of realisation and disbelief. Ben. That name. His name.

“I...” Obi-Wan swallowed, his throat tightening as he finally met Qui-Gon’s eyes. “I was stolen.” The words felt like they were tearing from him, the truth of it all slamming into his chest with the force of a thousand blows.

“By Palpatine,” Qui-Gon murmured, the word heavy with regret. “I should have known. I should have searched harder. But at the time...” He trailed off, his voice growing hoarse.

Obi-Wan felt the earth beneath him tremble. Prince by blood—but for another kingdom. He wasn’t just the adopted son of Palpatine, the prince of the Sith. He was Ben, the lost son of the Jedi king.

“What does this mean?” Obi-Wan asked quietly, his voice cracking under the weight of everything. “For the Jedi? For the Sith? For...for me?”

Qui-Gon’s expression hardened, but his gaze softened as he met Obi-Wan’s. “It means the war is inevitable, Obi-Wan. The attack on us, the one that nearly took Cody’s life—it’s just the beginning. Palpatine has orchestrated it all, pulling the strings from the shadows. But you...” He paused, swallowing hard. “You will always have a place in Coruscant, if you choose to come back with me.”

Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon for a long moment, the truth of it all slowly settling like a storm cloud. He felt a strange mix of emotions—anger, betrayal, sorrow. But there was something else, too. A possibility.

“I can’t go back,” Obi-Wan said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not now. Not with this war looming.”

“I understand,” Qui-Gon said, his voice full of quiet sorrow. “But remember, the offer remains. If you ever wish to return...”

Obi-Wan nodded, his throat tight. “Thank you, Qui-Gon.”

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the unspoken bond between them deeper than either had realized before. The room was still, the flickering lights from the healer’s lanterns casting gentle shadows across their faces.

Obi-Wan’s mind was a battlefield, the weight of what he had learned pressing down on him. But for the first time in years, he didn’t feel entirely lost.

There was still a place in the world for him. And whatever came next, he would face it with the strength of both his bloodlines.

Chapter Text

Anakin stood motionless by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the healer’s chamber where Cody rested. The soft murmur of the medics' incantations filled the air, a quiet hum that barely reached his ears as he watched the rise and fall of Cody’s chest—thankfully steady now, though still fragile. Rex stood nearby, still hovering like a sentinel, his eyes scanning the room with a practiced vigilance. Anakin could see the concern in Rex’s posture, the tension in his every movement as he occasionally glanced at Cody, then back at the healer’s work.

Anakin could relate. There was no part of him that didn’t feel the same tightness in his gut—the fear that something might still go wrong, that Cody could slip away before they even had the chance to truly fight back. Cody had been there for all of them, through every mission, every difficult battle. And now, this. Anakin clenched his fists, unwilling to let the dark thoughts settle in.

But just as the silence began to settle into a familiar, tense rhythm, he felt it—a change in the air, something that pulled his attention away from Cody and back toward the door of the healer’s room. Obi-Wan stood at the threshold now, his usually composed face drawn with a rare kind of tension. His gaze sought Anakin’s, and for a moment, their eyes met in wordless understanding.

Then, Obi-Wan’s voice, quieter than usual, slipped through the air. “Anakin, can we talk?”

Anakin didn’t hesitate. He gave a sharp nod and moved away from the door, gesturing toward a quiet corner near the far side of the room where they could speak in private. Rex caught his eye as he passed, but Anakin only offered a reassuring glance, one that was more for himself than for Rex.

As Obi-Wan approached, his eyes were heavy with something—something Anakin couldn’t place, not yet. He wasn’t sure why, but the shift in Obi-Wan’s demeanor felt like the calm before a storm. Anakin set his jaw, his instinct to protect his brother flaring up, but he knew better than to ask too many questions just yet.

When they were out of earshot from the others, Obi-Wan stopped, eyes flicking to the floor for a moment before he spoke again, voice barely audible. “I need to tell you something. About me.”

Anakin felt a flicker of confusion. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “What is it, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, his fingers moving restlessly, as if searching for a place to settle. “It’s about my heritage,” he said finally, his voice heavy with something Anakin couldn’t quite name.

The words hit Anakin with a force he hadn’t expected. His stomach tightened, a knot forming in his chest as he studied Obi-Wan’s face—watched the way his brother’s usual calm had shifted into something less certain, less controlled.

Anakin had always known Obi-Wan was adopted. It had never seemed like something that needed to be explained. They were brothers, through and through, no matter their bloodlines. The bond they shared was forged in fire, in hardship, in the kind of loyalty that no title or inheritance could alter.

But Obi-Wan’s somber expression now suggested there was more. He wasn’t talking about the past. No, there was something deeper here, something that threatened to upend the stability they’d fought so hard to build.

“Your heritage?” Anakin repeated, feeling a coldness crawl up his spine. “What about it?”

Obi-Wan’s gaze flicked up, meeting Anakin’s with an intensity that seemed both hesitant and determined. “I’m not...who you think I am. Not entirely.” He paused, searching Anakin’s face for some reaction, as if measuring how much of the weight of his words Anakin could bear at once. “I wasn’t just adopted by Palpatine because he took pity on an orphan. I was...stolen. From Qui-Gon.”

Anakin felt his pulse quicken. “What?” The word tore from him before he could stop it, disbelief laced through his voice. “You were—what are you talking about?”

Obi-Wan’s expression faltered slightly, but he steadied himself, looking at Anakin with a kind of quiet sorrow. “I was taken by Palpatine as a child. My birth name...is Ben.” He swallowed, the name hanging in the air between them like a phantom, unsettling and heavy. “I’m not...I’m not just Obi-Wan Kenobi. I’m the son of Qui-Gon Jinn. And I was taken from him, from the Jedi...when I was just a baby.”

Anakin’s brain struggled to process the words, his heart racing in his chest. The truth of it—so raw, so impossible—slammed into him like a wave breaking against a rocky shore. Obi-Wan, his brother, the man who had stood beside him through everything, was the missing son of the Jedi king? Ben, the boy Qui-Gon Jinn had lost all those years ago?

“You’re...Qui-Gon’s son?” Anakin managed to say, his voice thick with disbelief. “But I—” He paused, shaking his head, trying to grasp the enormity of what Obi-Wan was saying. “I thought...I didn’t know.”

Obi-Wan nodded, his expression pained. “I know you didn’t, Anakin. I’m not accusing you of anything. Qui-Gon has just told me. He saw something in me, my birthmark connected me to him. To Ben.”

Anakin stepped back slightly, trying to process the flood of new information, the implications of it all. His chest felt tight, a whirlwind of anger and betrayal rising up inside him, fury not just for what had been done to Obi-Wan, but for the way it all twisted everything he had ever known about his brother. Obi-Wan—Ben—wasn’t just the son of Palpatine. He was the son of the Jedi king. He had been stolen from his true family, raised in a kingdom built on lies and manipulation.

How could Palpatine do that?

Anakin clenched his fists, his knuckles white as the weight of this new truth settled like a stone in his stomach. He could feel the anger beginning to build, hot and sharp. For Obi-Wan. For Qui-Gon. For everything.

“Obi-Wan, that’s...” Anakin struggled to find the words. “That’s...horrible.” His voice was raw, trembling with the force of his emotions. “I can’t believe it. All this time—he did this to you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened, his gaze dipping for a moment. “I don’t want to make things harder between us.”

Anakin shook his head, the frustration building in him. “You think that’s what matters right now? How this affects us?” His voice cracked slightly as he reached for Obi-Wan, his fingers finding his brother’s shoulder in a grasp of reassurance. “Obi-Wan, you’re my brother. Nothing—not even this—will ever change that.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze flickered upward, uncertainty in his eyes. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I thought I was one thing, but...now I’m something else entirely. A child of the Jedi and the Sith. Torn between two worlds that I don’t belong in, forced to choose a side I didn’t want.”

Anakin’s heart ached for him, and he pulled Obi-Wan closer, his voice firm despite the storm raging inside him. “You don’t need to choose, Obi-Wan. Not between me, or Qui-Gon, or even Palpatine. You are my brother. And no matter who your father is, no matter what’s happened to you, that won’t change. You’ve always been my brother.” His tone softened. “You’ve always had a place here, with us, by my side.”

Obi-Wan let out a shaky breath, his body trembling slightly from the strain of the weight he’d been carrying alone for so long. “But I don’t know if I can carry this alone, Anakin. I don’t even know what it means anymore.”

Anakin shook his head again, his expression unwavering. “You don’t have to. Not alone. We’ve always had each other. And we always will. You’re not alone in this. You never will be.”

Obi-Wan met Anakin’s gaze then, his eyes searching, uncertain but filled with something softer now. Maybe it was trust. Maybe it was hope. But it was there.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice hoarse.

Anakin smiled, his own eyes fierce and resolute. “You don’t have to thank me, Obi-Wan. We’re brothers. Always.”

For a long moment, they stood together in the quiet, the noise of the healer’s room a distant echo. And for the first time since this war had begun, Anakin felt the weight of everything—the future, the secrets, the lies—slip from his shoulders just a little bit.

Because no matter what came next, he knew one thing for sure.

Obi-Wan Kenobi would always be his brother.

~~~~~

Rex hadn’t left Cody’s side since the explosion. Even now, standing at the foot of the cot, his posture stiff with vigilance, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the commander’s pale face. The bloodstain were gone, the wounds treated, but the stillness of his body, the shallowness of his breaths—everything about it reminded Rex of the fragile, painful moments they had spent apart.

The year without Cody had been like an eternity. Nothing had left him feeling more hollow than the absence of his older brother. And yet, here he was, by some twisted stroke of fate, alive again. But Cody’s mind hadn’t returned yet. His consciousness had been buried under a haze of healing and unconsciousness, and Rex could feel the weight of every second that passed.

But now—now, the small shifts in Cody’s fingers, the faint flicker of his eyelids—Rex knew the knight was waking.

He straightened slightly, his eyes fixed on Cody’s face, watching for the first sign of clarity. Rex knew his older brother’s mind wasn’t easily shaken. Cody had always been the one who kept it all together—steadfast, unshakable. But for a moment, as he lay there, he looked smaller than Rex remembered. Fragile. A fraction of what he used to be.

And yet, there was no mistaking it. This was Cody.

“Cody?” Rex whispered, keeping his voice low. His tone was gentle, coaxing. The kind of voice he reserved for those rare moments when the walls between brothers dropped away. "You with me?"

A faint groan rumbled in Cody’s throat, and Rex’s heart skipped a beat. He watched as the commander’s eyelids fluttered again, slow and heavy. When they opened fully, they were clouded, still drifting in and out of reality, but Rex saw the recognition in those eyes.

"Rex..." Cody's voice was a rasp, barely audible, like a dying whisper on the wind. But it was enough. It was everything.

Rex crouched beside him, his fingers brushing Cody’s arm, grounding him.

"I'm here, Cody," Rex said softly, not caring that his voice cracked with emotion. "I’m right here."

Cody’s lips parted again, this time forming a weak smile. It was the kind of smile that spoke volumes, even in its brokenness. One that Rex had missed more than he could express. Cody had been the one to teach him to stay steady, no matter the storm, no matter the loss. And now, with the commander awake in front of him, Rex’s heart was full again, despite everything that had happened.

Anakin and Obi-Wan stepped in then, their footsteps soft on the stone floor. Rex turned his head just enough to acknowledge them, though he didn’t pull his focus away from Cody. Anakin, who had been quiet, remained standing near the door, arms crossed. Obi-Wan, though, moved with a quiet urgency, his gaze fixed on Cody.

Rex caught the way Obi-Wan’s eyes darted from Cody to the bed, the way his body leaned slightly forward, almost like he couldn’t bear the space between himself and the man on the cot. It was the kind of worry that Rex recognized well—the protective instincts that came from years of comradeship. But there was something else, something deeper in Obi-Wan’s gaze.

Obi-Wan wasn’t just concerned. He was afraid.

Anakin, for his part, stayed at the back, hovering but silent, sensing the need for space, though his worry was just as palpable.

But Obi-Wan didn’t retreat. Not even a step.

His gaze didn’t leave Cody’s face.

Rex noticed Obi-Wan’s fists were clenched at his sides, his posture stiff. He was torn—torn between the need to be close and the struggle to stay back, giving Cody time to process the world around him again. Obi-Wan’s internal battle was clear, and Rex understood it more than he liked.

"Obi-Wan," Rex spoke up, his voice firm but not unkind. "Come here."

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered toward him, a mix of surprise and a question in those depths.

Rex gave him a small nod, one that spoke of understanding. Of reassurance.

"Come on," Rex urged, stepping slightly to the side and making room beside Cody. "He needs you.”

Obi-Wan hesitated, his gaze shifting between Rex and Cody. His brow furrowed, but he seemed to understand what Rex was saying. Slowly, he stepped forward, though it was clear he still wasn’t entirely sure about what his place in all of this was. He wanted to be there for Cody, wanted to help in a way that Rex couldn’t quite explain, but he was still holding himself back.

“Are you sure…?” Obi-Wan muttered, his voice trailing off.

Rex looked at him, his eyes softening. He could see the weight of everything Obi-Wan was holding—the burden of trying to protect everyone around him, while keeping his own heart in check. The weight of responsibility. The inevitable war. And now, after everything...Cody.

“You’re not alone in this, Obi-Wan,” Rex said, his voice quieter now, but stronger, firmer. "You're not alone in any of this."

Obi-Wan finally let out a breath, as if something within him released just enough for him to approach without fear of breaking. He took a few tentative steps toward the cot, his gaze still fixed on Cody’s prone form.

Rex turned back to his brother, feeling the familiar, solid presence of Cody beside him, even in his weakened state. It was enough.

"Cody," Rex said softly, keeping his voice calm. "Hey, you with me?"

Cody’s eyes blinked, more clearly now, the fog lifting a little more from his gaze. His hand twitched again, his fingers curling weakly. Rex leaned closer, lowering his voice.

“I’ve got you, brother,” Rex whispered. “You’re safe. We’re all here.”

Cody’s lips parted as he tried to speak, his voice rough and weak. "What happened..." he rasped, his eyes unfocused but trying to make sense of his surroundings.

Rex smiled, though it was laced with concern. "You’re alive, Cody. That’s what matters. We’ve got time for all the answers later."

But Obi-Wan had finally stepped to his side, and Rex could see how the tension in his posture faded as he stood just behind Rex. Slowly, he placed a hand on Cody’s shoulder, a gesture filled with something unsaid. Protection. Concern. The silent language of friendship.

Cody looked up at Obi-Wan, and for the briefest moment, their eyes locked. In that instant, Rex could see the quiet relief in both of them—the relief of knowing they weren’t alone in the world, that even in the wake of everything, they still had one another.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody muttered, the whisper barely audible, but it was enough.

Obi-Wan’s face softened, and he took a slow breath before crouching down beside the cot, his voice barely more than a murmur, but full of tenderness.

“I’m here, Cody,” he said, his hand gently brushing Cody’s arm. “You’re safe.”

Rex watched them—watched the quiet exchange between the two men who had fought side by side, bled together, and somehow made it out the other side. It wasn’t just the service they had shared. It was something deeper—something that bound them together in ways Rex could never put into words. Even now, standing beside them, he knew that what they had wasn’t just loyalty. It was much more than that.

And in that moment, even amidst the chaos, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The soft light of the early morning filtered through the narrow windows, casting a hazy glow over the room. Cody shifted, his eyes fluttering open, blinking away the remnants of sleep. His body felt heavier than it should, the ache in his chest and limbs a reminder of the explosion, the days of unconsciousness, and the fragile thread that had kept him tethered to life.

His throat was raw, the air scraping painfully as he drew a shallow breath, but at least he wasn't passing out again. That was something. His mind was clearer now, though still fogged by lingering pain.

The soft murmur of voices reached his ears. Rex, Anakin, and Qui-Gon were elsewhere in the palace, likely still scouring through the wreckage, trying to find who had attacked them. It was the only thing that seemed to matter now—the who, the why.

But here, in the quiet of the room, Obi-Wan was the constant.

Cody didn’t have to look to know Obi-Wan was there. He could feel him, hovering just beyond his line of sight, never too far away, always nearby. It was both comforting and suffocating.

He let his gaze drift to the side. Obi-Wan was seated in a chair beside the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him, his eyes fixed on some far-off point. His posture was tense, almost rigid, like he was holding his breath. The lines of worry etched deeply into his features hadn’t softened, not even after Cody had woken up a few hours ago.

“Hey,” Cody rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. He cleared his throat, trying again, but the sound was still hoarse. “I’m fine. Really. You can stop hovering.”

Obi-Wan’s head snapped up, eyes wide, as if startled to be caught staring. But then, as quickly as the moment came, it was gone, replaced with that familiar, guarded expression. “You’re not fine,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice low but firm. “You’ve still got a long way to go.”

“I’ve stopped passing out,” Cody pointed out, lifting his hand slowly, his fingers stiff. His wrist was bandaged, a constant reminder of the injury he had sustained during the blast. “That’s progress.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “You’re still hurt, Cody. You don’t even know the extent of the damage yet. You—”

“I’m fine,” Cody interrupted, his voice more insistent this time. He lifted his head slightly, wincing at the pressure in his chest. “Really. I’ve had worse. I can handle it.”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed, and he stood, coming to Cody’s side in an instant, his hands hovering as though unsure whether to touch. “You don’t have to handle it alone.”

Cody managed a faint, tired smile, though it barely touched his lips. He reached up, grasping Obi-Wan’s wrist, a small gesture that made Obi-Wan freeze for a moment, before he gently pulled his hand back.

“I’m not alone,” Cody said softly. “You’re here.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze lingered on him for a long moment, his eyes dark and unreadable. The silence between them grew heavy, thick with unspoken words. Then, as if breaking free from some invisible restraint, Obi-Wan sighed, dragging a hand over his face.

Cody tilted his head, watching him closely. “You’re really not going to stop, are you?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, his lips pressing together in a tight line before he let out a soft exhale, his voice quieter now. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

The question seemed to hang in the air longer than it should’ve, and for a moment, Cody thought Obi-Wan might not answer. But then he spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen.

“I—I was terrified, Cody. When the explosion hit, when I saw you…I thought I’d lost you. I didn’t know if you were going to wake up, if you were going to make it through. Every second felt like an eternity, and all I could do was watch.”

Obi-Wan’s voice faltered for just a second, before he cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “I couldn’t—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair as though trying to push the words away. “I couldn’t lose you, Cody.”

Cody studied him, the raw honesty in Obi-Wan’s voice catching him off guard. It wasn’t often that the Prince allowed himself to show his vulnerability like this—not to anyone. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart thudding uncomfortably.

“You don’t have to do this alone either,” Cody said, his voice quieter now, gentler. He wasn’t sure where the words were coming from, but they felt right. Obi-Wan had been by his side in every battle, in every storm. This was no different. “You’ve got me.”

Obi-Wan looked away briefly, as though the weight of the moment was too much. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice thick with something unspoken. But then, he glanced back at Cody, and there was that familiar resolve in his eyes. “And I’m not letting you go anywhere either, not while I can help it.”

Cody gave a small nod, his fingers brushing the edge of Obi-Wan’s sleeve as if seeking some sort of anchor. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to stay like this.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softened, but only slightly, the hardness never fully leaving his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Cody. I’m staying.”

And just like that, the tension seemed to fade a little. Not much, but enough for Cody to feel the weight lift from his chest. As much as he wanted to argue, he couldn’t. Not with Obi-Wan so determined. Not with the man who had always been his rock.

“Fine,” Cody finally muttered, closing his eyes for a moment. “But only until I can get out of bed on my own. Then you’ll have to deal with my charming company again.”

Obi-Wan’s lips quirked slightly. “I think I can manage.”

And with that, the two of them fell into a quiet, comfortable silence, the tension easing ever so slightly as Obi-Wan resumed his watch over Cody, unwavering, steadfast. Cody didn’t mind the company, not really. Not when it was Obi-Wan.

~~~~~

The quiet in the room was only broken by the faint hum of distant voices and the occasional soft shuffle of footsteps. Obi-Wan’s gaze lingered on Cody for a moment longer before he let out a quiet breath, taking solace in the steady rise and fall of his chest. The younger man was resting, at least, the pain momentarily at bay. But there was still so much left unsaid between them. He could feel it—could feel it in the way the silence had settled around them, thick and expectant, like a storm cloud hanging low. Obi-Wan had never been good at leaving things unsaid, and there was something pressing on him now, something that needed to come out before the weight of it crushed him entirely.

Before he could speak, the door creaked open, drawing Obi-Wan’s attention. He turned slightly, feeling the weight of the moment settle deeper into his chest. Anakin and Rex stepped into the room, their faces tired but resolute.

“Still here, I see.” Anakin’s voice, though tired, held a faint note of amusement, his gaze lingering on Obi-Wan before moving to Cody, whose eyes had fluttered open at the sound.

“Did you find anything?” Obi-Wan asked, his tone steady but lacking the usual sharpness of his voice. The need to be somewhere else, to be doing something more useful, was tugging at him, but he resisted. This, this moment, was too important to rush.

Anakin shook his head, a scowl darkening his face. “Qui-Gon’s still looking. He says he’s following a lead, but no one really knows where it’s going.” His voice was tinged with frustration. “We’ve covered most of the wreckage, but nothing that explains who did this or why.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze flickered briefly to Cody, who was now fully awake, though still lying on the bed, a silent observer. His presence was like an anchor, steadying Obi-Wan even as his mind threatened to swirl away. The feeling of having everything he knew come apart around him still haunted him, even as the pieces started to fall into place.

“I know,” Obi-Wan murmured. “I…I need to speak with all of you, now that we’re together.”

He paused, gathering his thoughts. His fingers drummed restlessly against the arm of his chair, and he exhaled slowly, a wave of anxiety suddenly overtaking him.

"I’ve already told Anakin," Obi-Wan said quietly, his eyes briefly meeting the younger man’s. "But there are things I need to explain to the rest of you. Things that I’ve only recently discovered about myself. Things I never thought I would have to face."

Cody raised an eyebrow as Rex’s expression turned serious, both men sensing the shift in the air. Obi-Wan’s shoulders tightened under the weight of his words. His chest felt heavy—he hadn’t realized until now just how much he had been holding back.

“I—” He took a breath, his voice wavering slightly. “I’ve spent my entire life believing that I was…that I was just Obi-Wan Kenobi, a civilian who was taken in by the Sith King.” He swallowed hard, the words tasting foreign in his mouth, his throat tight with emotion.

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself. The truth was a knife in his chest, slicing open memories he had long buried, long rejected. The shame. The confusion. The weight of it all.

“But the truth is…” He paused again, a deep breath shuddering through him, “I’m not. I am Ben Jinn, the lost Jedi Prince. I am Qui-Gon’s son.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating in its weight. Rex’s eyes widened in surprise, his mouth slightly parted as he processed the revelation. Cody remained still, his gaze unwavering but filled with quiet understanding.

Obi-Wan’s heart pounded in his chest, the room suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating. The revelation should have been a victory, a moment of clarity—after all these years of confusion, of identity lost to the shadows. But all he felt now was the sharp sting of unhealed wounds, and the nagging thought that perhaps he would never be the same after this. He wasn’t sure if that thought terrified him or comforted him.

“I never knew,” Obi-Wan continued, his voice raw, vulnerable, as if the very act of speaking the truth was something he had never allowed himself before. “I never knew who I was. I was raised to believe I was just another orphan, discarded by the very people I should have been born to. The Sith told me I was nothing. But I…” His voice faltered, and he bit back the sting of emotion that threatened to break free. "I’ve only just learned the truth."

Obi-Wan stopped himself, eyes closing as the weight of it all crashed down on him. The knowledge that his life had been built on lies, that everything he’d known about himself was a fabrication, was almost too much to bear.

Cody’s voice, soft but steady, cut through the tension in the room. “You’re still you, Obi-Wan. I don’t see you any differently.”

The words were simple, but they hit Obi-Wan like a lifeline. He opened his eyes, meeting Cody’s gaze, and found in it that familiar strength, that quiet understanding. Cody wasn’t afraid of him. He wasn’t judging him.

“You’re still the man I trust with my life,” Cody added, his voice quiet but firm. “And that’s never going to change.”

Obi-Wan felt his heart skip a beat at the reassurance, but beneath the calmness of Cody’s words, he could feel the weight of something deeper. It was the unspoken truth that had been building between them for so long, something Obi-Wan had never dared to acknowledge. The bond between them, the way Cody saw him—not as a prince, but as the man he had always been to Cody—was more than just loyalty. It was…something else.

Obi-Wan drew in a shaky breath, his gaze lingering on Cody for a moment longer than necessary, before turning back to Anakin and Rex. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I—I needed to say that. To get it off my chest.”

Rex gave a small nod, his expression one of quiet respect. Anakin gave a reassuring smile, the warmth in his eyes evident.

Obi-Wan’s heart pounded. He had opened himself up, let them see the vulnerable side of him that he had spent a lifetime hiding. And now, standing there, with Cody's steady presence beside him, he started to believe he would never be alone.

And somehow, in that fragile moment, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

Chapter Text

The wind howled through the broken windows as Qui-Gon stepped into the room, the echoes of the attack still lingering in the air. The remains of the shattered wall told a story of violence, of a threat that had come dangerously close to claiming the life of the one person Qui-Gon had thought lost to him forever.

Obi-Wan.

His son.

The truth had come to him like a bolt from the blue. He had spent so many years wondering where Ben—his son, taken when he was just a child—had gone. What had happened to him? Who had stolen him from his home, from his family? To find out now, in the middle of this chaos, that his own flesh and blood was Obi-Wan Kenobi… the weight of that knowledge crushed him, even as it filled him with a strange sense of relief.

But relief couldn’t replace the fear, not when he thought of what Obi-Wan had suffered.

Anakin and Rex were speaking in hushed tones a distance away from Obi-Wan and Cody. Qui-Gon’s mind lingered on their words as he entered the room. Obi-Wan was sitting on the edge of the bed, still pale but looking more like himself than he had in the last few days. Cody was beside him, still laying down, a bruised but determined presence.

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan greeted him with a small nod, but the exhaustion in his eyes was undeniable. "What have you learned?"

“There was a message written in the ashes. The wind destroyed part of it, but we can still make out most of it." Qui-Gon turned his attention to Anakin and handed him a small, crumbled parchment. It had been dug from the wreckage of the chamber, a hidden clue that had nearly been lost. The message was smeared in places, but the words that remained were chilling.

…loses its own weight, and what is stolen will be paid in full.

Qui-Gon frowned, reading the words again. The first part of the message had been torn apart by the wind, leaving only fragments. But the second part lingered with a sinister finality. “Stolen… paid in full?” Qui-Gon muttered under his breath, feeling the familiar unease twist in his gut.

Cody’s voice broke through his thoughts. “That beginning part is familiar. The first assassin said it before they passed out. They said, ‘The crown that weighs heavy loses its own...’ before trailing off.”

Obi-Wan looked at Cody sharply. "You remember that?" His voice was hoarse, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

"Of course I remember it," Cody said. “It was the same phrase, though I didn’t understand it at the time. But we might be able to now."

Rex’s brow furrowed as the pieces began to click together. “The crown…” he murmured. "Like Palpatine?"

Anakin nodded slowly. “It has to be. He’s the one who’s in search of more power.”

“But…” Obi-Wan’s voice was heavy, uncertainty clouding his features. “The ‘stolen’ part—what does that mean?”

Qui-Gon ran a hand over his face, thinking. “What if it’s not about something being stolen, but someone? What if they mean a life was taken? Something—or someone—stolen from its rightful place?”

Anakin looked between them, trying to follow. "You mean...Obi-Wan?”

Cody turned toward Obi-Wan, who seemed to be contemplating the same possibility. “It makes sense,” he said softly. “If you were taken, as a child...it could explain why they’re so desperate to silence you.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze flicked over to Anakin, then to Cody. “But why? Why now? If Palpatine thought I was some kind of threat because of who I am…why wouldn’t he have done something sooner?”

Anakin’s brow furrowed as he spoke up. “Maybe it’s not just about you being a threat. Maybe it's about who you are. Qui-Gon’s son. The son of the Jedi King… you’re existence could lead to things Palpatine never expected.”

Obi-Wan blinked, processing that idea. "But why not try to keep me on his side? Why not use me as a weapon instead of trying to kill me?"

Cody’s voice broke through the tension. “Maybe it's not about controlling you. Maybe it’s about destroying any hope of...whatever this bloodline means. The message says 'paid in full'—like a debt.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes widened slightly as that notion sank in. "A debt...yes. You speaking against this war threatens everything Palpatine’s built. His power. His claim. This bloodline could be the very thing he wants to erase."

Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet now, but strong. “The truth. I never knew it…not until now. And they’ve been trying to erase it. Trying to destroy my connection to you, to the past.”

Cody’s brow furrowed as the pieces fell into place. “You’re saying the assassins weren’t just trying to kill you as a Jedi, but to destroy something that could challenge Palpatine’s power?”

Anakin stepped forward. “Exactly. You’re not just Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi Knight. You’re Ben Jinn, Qui-Gon’s son. And that lineage could be the one thing Palpatine can’t afford to let survive.”

A silence fell over the room, thick with realization. Rex, still processing, finally spoke up. “So…all these attempts on Obi-Wan’s life—this isn’t just about him being a Jedi. It’s about who he is.”

Qui-Gon nodded, feeling the weight of the truth settle heavily in his chest. "Yes. They’ve been trying to erase not just Obi-Wan, but everything he represents. A bloodline. A legacy."

Obi-Wan’s gaze met Qui-Gon’s, and there was a flicker of understanding between them. “And that’s why they’ve kept trying to kill me, why they never just came for me outright. If they kill me… they kill any hope of this bloodline surviving. It’s not just politics. It’s personal.”

Cody looked at Qui-Gon, then at Obi-Wan, piecing it all together. “Then the question is…if Palpatine hasn’t killed you on his own yet, why?”

Anakin’s voice was sharp. “Maybe he’s waiting for the right moment. Maybe he thinks he can weaken you first, make you more vulnerable.”

Rex scratched his head. “But what about the message? ‘Loses its own weight’? Could it mean that Palpatine’s control is slipping? Maybe his power is starting to crumble?”

Qui-Gon considered this carefully, nodding slowly. “It could be. Palpatine’s position is tenuous, and if he’s threatened by the legacy Obi-Wan represents…he may be trying to hold onto power while it’s still in his grasp.”

Obi-Wan’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing with a quiet resolve. “So, if they want me dead, but haven’t finished the job…then it’s not just about a physical attack. It’s about the right moment. The moment when they can take everything.”

Qui-Gon met his son’s gaze. “Precisely.”

~~~~~

The room felt like it was closing in on Obi-Wan, each passing moment thick with the weight of the revelations he couldn’t quite process. He felt trapped—suffocated—not just by the words but by the understanding that something fundamental had just shifted within him. The truth, as it always did, made everything seem so much more complicated.

Anakin’s voice cut through the tension, sharp, filled with disbelief. “No,” he said, his tone rising, as if trying to reject what was hanging in the air. “I—I don’t believe it. Palpatine wouldn’t do that.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze snapped toward Anakin, his heart skipping a beat as his friend—the brother—struggled with the same impossible reality. Anakin's face was a mask of confusion, anger, and hurt, all jumbled together.

“He raised you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin continued, shaking his head, his words frantic now. “He’s…He’s my father, too. He would never—" Anakin faltered, running a hand through his hair. He was grasping for something, anything that might disprove the uncomfortable thought that had been planted. "No. He wouldn’t try to kill you. He—"

His voice cracked, and for a moment, he looked lost, like a child trying to understand the world when it had just shattered before him.

Obi-Wan stared at Anakin, his own internal chaos mirrored in his brother’s expression. How could you not see it, Anakin? The words sat heavy on the tip of his tongue, but Obi-Wan didn’t say them. He couldn’t. He was in no position to accuse, not with the whirlwind of emotions churning inside him. What if you’re right? What if I’m wrong?

Qui-Gon stepped forward, his gaze full of understanding, but there was something almost painful in his expression. He was trying to guide Anakin toward the truth, but even Qui-Gon knew how fragile this moment was.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon said, his voice calm but firm. "Palpatine has always played both sides. He raised you, yes. But that doesn’t mean he has your best interests at heart. And as for Obi-Wan, he has been an asset to Palpatine, too. His position, his bloodline—it’s all been a means to an end. And now, it’s a threat to Palpatine’s hold on power."

Anakin’s lips pressed into a thin line as the words sunk in, but he still couldn’t fully accept them. His father—his father—was not some benevolent figure. The realization gnawed at him, tugging at his convictions, trying to tear down everything he had believed about the Sith King who was his father. His protector, in some twisted way.

"You're telling me," Anakin said, voice shaking, "that my father—who raised me, who gave me everything—has been planning my brother’s death this entire time? Because he’s a threat? Because of his bloodline?”

Obi-Wan clenched his fists, his own thoughts swirling with the same questions. How much of Palpatine’s care had been manipulation? How much of it had been a game to him, all along?

Cody added, his voice steady but carrying a weight of sorrow, “It’s not just Obi-Wan, Anakin. Palpatine has used both of you. He used Obi-Wan to try and gain power and influence, and he used you to control the kingdom. Since he can’t control Obi-Wan, he’ll destroy him. The message, the assassins—it’s all a part of that plan.”

Obi-Wan was silent, his gaze locked on the floor, his mind spiraling. The truth of it was undeniable, no matter how hard he tried to push it away. He had never felt more distant from Anakin, even though they had both grown up under Palpatine’s twisted guidance. What Palpatine had done to them—how he had used them, shaped them, and manipulated them for his own power—was too much to comprehend in a single breath.

Anakin turned sharply to Qui-Gon, his voice tight with frustration. “But why hasn’t he just killed him then? Why all these attempts? Why doesn’t he just end it, if Obi-Wan’s a threat? If it’s all about his bloodline—why keep playing this game?”

Qui-Gon’s expression darkened. “Because Palpatine never plays his hand until the time is right. He’s a master at waiting for the right moment, the right weakness. He’s trying to weaken Obi-Wan, break him down, until he’s vulnerable enough for Palpatine to strike the final blow. And when Obi-Wan falls, so does the legacy.”

Anakin’s face contorted with conflict, his mind reeling as the pieces clicked into place. “But…but I can’t—” He stopped himself, shaking his head as if trying to shake the thought from his mind. Palpatine wasn’t like this with him. He wasn’t.

Obi-Wan felt the tension thickening between them. He wanted to tell Anakin that he understood—he knew it wasn’t easy to accept. But right now, Obi-Wan couldn’t bear to speak. He didn’t know how to say it—to admit it out loud, not just to himself but to the others in the room. Palpatine didn’t just raise me… he used me, just like he used you, Anakin.

The truth felt like it was choking him. Every word that was said seemed to trap him deeper inside the web of lies Palpatine had spun.

"Anakin..." Obi-Wan finally spoke, his voice low and strained. “It’s... hard to accept. I know.” He took a breath, his throat tight. “I don’t want to believe it, either. That he could want me dead... but how else do you explain it? Why would someone send assassins after me, again and again, unless...unless there was something about me he couldn’t control?”

Anakin was silent, his gaze distant. The storm inside him was just beginning to take shape, the foundations of everything he had believed about Palpatine starting to crack and crumble. It wasn’t something Anakin was ready to accept, not fully. It would take time.

Obi-Wan could see it in his eyes. The same denial. The same refusal to believe that everything he had ever known could be a lie.

But Obi-Wan had no more answers. He only had more questions.

He turned away, his heart heavy. The weight of the conversation felt too much to bear.

“I…I need to be alone,” Obi-Wan said softly, his voice distant, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “I can’t…”

Without waiting for a response, he pushed past them, the door to the hallway swinging open as he left.

He didn’t know where he was going. Didn’t know what he was doing. He just needed space. Time to think, to process. How could this be true? The thought echoed over and over in his mind. Palpatine couldn’t have wanted him dead…

But as he walked down the cold corridor, the bitter truth gnawed at him, and he found himself spiraling further into doubt. Everything he had been taught—everything he had believed—was nothing more than a lie.

And what does that make me?

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as Obi-Wan walked away.

Chapter Text

The wind was quieter here.

Cody stepped through the ruined stairwell and onto the rooftop, the remnants of stone crunching beneath his boots. The stars were spread wide above them, cold and bright, uncaring. He paused at the edge of the threshold, gaze already drawn to the lone figure at the far end of the roof.

Obi-Wan.

He was sitting down, legs dangling off the edge, the hem of his cloak fluttering slightly in the night air. From behind, Cody could see how tense his shoulders were, like he was holding something in, like if he let it go, he might collapse beneath the weight.

“I thought I’d find you out here,” Cody said softly.

Obi-Wan turned sharply at the sound, not quite startled but not at ease either. “You’re supposed to be resting,” he replied, the edge of reprimand dulled by concern.

“I think I’ve rested enough for a week,” Cody said with a tired smile as he walked closer, sitting down beside him. The stars above were endless, but his eyes returned to Obi-Wan. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.”

Cody frowned. He let the silence stretch for a few seconds, letting the lie settle between them before he pierced it. “You and me both know that’s a lie. I thought we swore to be honest with each other.”

Obi-Wan didn’t reply right away. His gaze drifted to the horizon, jaw tight, the wind brushing through his hair. The distant lights of the city below were flickering, blurred by a thin mist.

Cody waited. Not impatiently. Just… quietly. He was good at that—waiting for Obi-Wan to trust him with the truth. He just hadn’t expected how much it would hurt to see him like this.
Untethered. Unsteady.

It shook something in him.

He told himself it was just concern. Duty, maybe. Obi-Wan had helped him more times than he can count. He had pulled him from rubble, comforted him at his lowest. Cody had thought that loyalty, camaraderie, friendship—that those were the things that bound them.

But lately, he didn’t know what to call it anymore.

“I don’t know what to feel,” Obi-Wan said at last, voice low and raw. “Everything I believed…it wasn’t just a lie. It was orchestrated. Every part of my life, twisted. And I didn’t even know.”

Cody swallowed. “You weren’t supposed to. That’s how they kept you controlled.”

Obi-Wan gave a bitter laugh. “It worked.”

Cody’s fingers clenched at his sides. He wanted to reach for him. To do something. But there was no battlefield here, no enemy to shoot. Just Obi-Wan, unraveling in quiet pieces.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come up here,” Obi-Wan muttered. “I don’t want to talk. I just need a moment to breathe.”

Cody nodded slowly, moving a little closer. “Then don’t talk. You don’t have to say anything.”

They stood together in silence for a long moment. The stars above didn’t offer answers, but they made the world feel wider, like the pain might echo somewhere else, away from them.

Cody’s eyes lingered on Obi-Wan in the faint light—on the way his shoulders shook, barely, like he was holding something in through sheer force of will. He looked smaller somehow. Not in stature, but in weight. Like he’d been hollowed out.

And something in Cody ached at the sight.

He didn’t realize he’d moved until he was standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Close enough to feel the heat of Obi-Wan’s body through the wind. He didn’t say anything. Just stood, solid and still, so Obi-Wan wouldn’t feel like he was drifting alone.

And then—

Slowly, cautiously, Obi-Wan leaned into him.

His head came to rest gently against Cody’s shoulder, like it had cost him something to do it. Like he wasn’t used to allowing himself this kind of comfort.

Cody’s breath caught in his throat.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move at first. Just let the weight of Obi-Wan’s trust settle against him, grounding him in place. Then, gently, he lifted an arm and wrapped it around Obi-Wan’s back, holding him there. His fingers curled lightly into the fabric of the cloak, and he let himself exhale.

It was nothing.

It was everything.

Cody didn’t know what this feeling was—this warmth, this ache, this quiet urgency to protect something fragile. It wasn’t duty. It wasn’t just loyalty.

He didn’t have the words for it yet.

All he knew was that Obi-Wan was here, leaning on him. And Cody wasn’t going to let him fall.

Together, they stood under the stars, saying nothing more, as the night wrapped around them in quiet understanding.

~~~~~

The stars were too quiet.

Obi-Wan stared up at them, chest tight, as if the entire sky was bearing down on him—cold and ancient and indifferent to the war he was expected to fight. To the legacy he hadn’t asked for. To the love he didn’t understand, couldn’t name out loud.

Ben Jinn.

The Jedi Prince.

A symbol. A weapon. A threat.

He had been so many things in the span of a single day that he no longer knew who he was underneath it all. The names felt like masks—Ben, Obi-Wan, Jedi, traitor, target. Son.

And now…

Now he was something else entirely.

He wanted to breathe, but his lungs wouldn’t let him. The air felt thinner up here, though he knew it wasn’t. It was just him. It was always him. Something wrong, something broken.

He had thought the silence would help. That the stars would clear the noise in his head. But the silence made it worse. It amplified the chaos, the unravelling thoughts that spiralled endlessly.

What was he supposed to do? How long has he been living a lie? Why didn’t he see it? Why didn’t he question it? What if he’s not strong enough to survive what’s coming?

A shaky breath escaped his lips. He hadn’t realized how tightly he was holding himself until he felt the warmth of Cody beside him—his steady presence, his unspoken comfort.

Obi-Wan leaned into him more fully now, pressing his cheek to Cody’s shoulder, the soft fabric of the borrowed robe warm from his body heat. Cody’s arm remained around him, solid and grounding.

He tried to focus on that. Cody’s breathing.

In and out. Slow. Measured.
Reliable.

He matched his own to it—tried to, anyway. But his chest stuttered, caught on something sharp that wouldn’t dislodge. Grief, maybe. Fear. Love.

He closed his eyes and listened. Not to the stars, not to the thoughts, but to Cody.

He had almost died, and the idea of losing him—of watching Cody fall in battle, or vanish beneath rubble like so many others—had broken something in him. It was in the moments after that attack, when he thought Cody might not wake, that Obi-Wan had truly understood it.

He loved him more than he thought possible. He loved him in a way he believed the word was incapable of describing.

Not in the way he was supposed to love comrades. Not with the distance expected of him. Not with the detachment they had taught him. But with a kind of aching reverence. Quiet. Constant.

And utterly terrifying.

Because Cody would never feel the same. He couldn’t. Not with the world falling apart, not with Obi-Wan carrying the weight of a thousand titles he never asked for. What would Cody want with someone like him?

Obi-Wan’s throat tightened. His eyes burned.

He tried to hide it—he always tried to hide it—but the tears came anyway. Hot and silent, slipping down his cheeks and into the folds of Cody’s robe. He bit his lip hard enough to sting, chest hitching with each shallow breath. He didn’t want Cody to see him like this.

But of course, Cody noticed.

“Hey,” Cody murmured, his voice so soft it was barely a whisper. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

The words were a balm and a blade. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut as more tears fell. He couldn’t stop them.

“I’ve got you,” Cody repeated, firmer now, as if willing it to be true. He shifted slightly, his other hand reaching up, thumb brushing gently across Obi-Wan’s cheek, catching the tears before they could fall too far. His touch was impossibly gentle. “You don’t have to say anything, I’m here. Just breathe.”

Obi-Wan let out a trembling sob, a sound he couldn’t hold in anymore, and buried his face in Cody’s neck. The warmth of skin and breath, the faint scent of old bandages and fresh air—it grounded him better than anything else could. He gripped the fabric of Cody’s patient gown, clutching it like a lifeline, as if letting go might unmake him entirely.

Cody held him close. No hesitation, no judgment. Just a quiet, fierce kind of devotion.

“You’re not alone,” Cody whispered, his lips near Obi-Wan’s ear. “I don’t care what they call you—Ben or Obi-Wan or whatever title they try to put on your shoulders. You’re still you. And I care about you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Obi-Wan wept harder.

Not from pain. Not even from fear. But from the overwhelming, shattering release of being seen—of being held without having to explain why he was falling apart.

Cody’s arms tightened around him. His hand moved in slow, comforting circles along Obi-Wan’s back, anchoring him to the present, to the rooftop, to something that wasn’t falling apart.

“You’re allowed to break,” Cody murmured again. “You don’t have to carry it all.”

Obi-Wan gripped tighter, trembling against him.

And Cody never let go.

~~~~~

Cody held him until the trembling stopped.

At some point, Obi-Wan’s sobs had softened, then faded entirely, replaced by the quiet sound of his breathing against Cody’s collarbone. Slower now. Heavier.

He was asleep.

Cody realized it only when Obi-Wan’s weight leaned more fully into him—no longer braced, no longer fighting to hold himself upright. The tension had drained out of him like water slipping through cracked stone, leaving only exhaustion behind.

For a moment, Cody didn’t move.

He didn’t want to wake him. Didn’t want to disturb the fragile peace that had finally, finally settled over the man in his arms.

Instead, he adjusted his grip carefully, one hand staying curled around Obi-Wan’s back while the other rose to brush a strand of hair from his face. The soft auburn locks were tangled from the wind and damp from tears. Cody pushed them gently aside, his fingertips lingering at the edge of Obi-Wan’s temple.

Even in sleep, there was something tight in Obi-Wan’s expression. The kind of exhaustion that went deeper than the body. It was written in the creases at the corners of his eyes, in the faint tremble of his lips, still parted slightly from uneven breath.

A few stray tears clung to his lashes. Cody wiped them away with the pad of his thumb, slow and careful.

He didn’t know what made his chest ache more—the sight of Obi-Wan unraveling, or the way he’d trusted Cody enough to fall apart in his arms.

And now, this.

This…closeness.

He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself. It was more than duty. More than camaraderie. It had always been more, hadn’t it? He’d just never put a name to it.

All he knew was this: when Obi-Wan had cried into his shoulder, something in Cody had shattered. Something quiet, something deeply buried. And when Obi-Wan had clung to him like he was the only solid thing left in the world, Cody had felt something he couldn’t name.

It was more than the instinct to protect. That, he understood. That had been drilled into him long ago. But this?

This wasn’t instinct.

It was personal. It was his.

He looked down at Obi-Wan’s face again, now relaxed in sleep, and something deep in Cody’s chest twisted.

How long had he felt this way? How long had he watched Obi-Wan bear the weight of the world alone and wished he could take just some of it from him?

Cody didn’t know what this was.

But it was something.

Something warm and terrifying.

He held Obi-Wan a little tighter, settling both of them back so Obi-Wan could rest more comfortably against his chest. The night air had grown colder, but Cody didn’t mind. The steady rise and fall of Obi-Wan’s breathing, the feel of his weight, the silence after the storm—it was enough.

Cody tilted his head back and looked up at the stars.

They were still there. Cold and distant. But for once, he didn’t feel alone beneath them.

Chapter Text

The wind was still, but inside Anakin, there was a tempest. His boots scuffed across the floor of the dimly lit hall, his fingers twitching as he made his way to the courtyard. The hours stretched on, but Obi-Wan still hadn't returned. It wasn’t like him to disappear for so long, not without leaving some kind of message or reassurance.

Anakin tried to focus, to maintain some semblance of control. But every time his mind slipped back to the thought of Obi-Wan alone, on that rooftop, fragile and broken… his stomach twisted. The darkness in his chest twisted with it.

He knew what Obi-Wan had been through, what Palpatine had put him through. The lies. The manipulations. The betrayals. And still, Obi-Wan had continued to give everything, to fight with honor, even though the entire galaxy had turned its back on him.

But Anakin had been too blind to see it.

He remembered Palpatine’s sickening words, the casual cruelty with which he’d explained everything, the way he had presented Obi-Wan like a pawn in a game of chess. His biological father—the man Anakin had once idolized—had done unspeakable things to Obi-Wan, things that Anakin couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

There was no way to forgive that. There was no way to even begin to process it.

And now Obi-Wan was broken. More broken than Anakin had realized. Palpatine had torn him apart, had made him question everything—everything Obi-Wan had believed in, everything he had stood for. And there was nothing Anakin could do to undo it.

"Where are you, Obi-Wan?" he muttered under his breath, pacing now. "Please, just come back."

His mind flickered to the images of Obi-Wan's face, pale, lost, the distant look in his eyes. He could still feel the weight of the words Obi-Wan had said earlier—the uncertainty, the sadness. But most of all, he could feel the desperation. Obi-Wan hadn’t needed to say it aloud, but Anakin knew. He’d always known.

His brother. His mentor. His best friend. The one person who had always been there for him.

And now…now he wasn’t sure what to do.

The door creaked open, and Anakin’s heart leapt in his chest.

Cody and Obi-Wan.

He didn’t know whether to run or stay still. His feet seemed to be rooted to the floor as he watched them step into the dim light, Obi-Wan’s weary figure leaning slightly against Cody for support.

Obi-Wan’s face was still pale, but there was something different in his eyes. Something—darker, quieter. Anakin’s heart skipped a beat. He had to fight back the surge of panic that swelled inside him. Obi-Wan was there. He was safe, but at what cost?

Cody glanced at him, and without a word, stepped back, giving Anakin the space he needed. Obi-Wan didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t even look up. He seemed… smaller, in a way, even though he hadn’t changed in stature. His presence had always been one of strength and resolve, but now… it was broken, fragile.

Anakin couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Obi-Wan!” His voice cracked on the last syllable, and before he could stop himself, he was moving. He crossed the distance between them in two long strides, his arms reaching out, pulling Obi-Wan close.

Obi-Wan tensed at first—probably startled, probably not used to this kind of closeness—but it didn’t take long before he leaned into the hug, his arms wrapping weakly around Anakin’s waist. Anakin’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the weight of Obi-Wan’s exhaustion, the ache in his bones that had only worsened since their last mission.

He didn’t care that it might be too much. He needed this—needed to feel Obi-Wan there, breathing, alive, and more than just a shadow of the man he had once known.

"I thought I lost you," Anakin whispered into Obi-Wan’s hair. His grip tightened, his chest constricting with every passing second. The fear that had been bubbling just under the surface all this time erupted now. “When you ran off like that, I thought—”

“I’m here,” Obi-Wan muttered, his voice muffled, and Anakin could feel the tremor in his words. “I’m still here, Anakin.”

Anakin didn’t know how long they stood like that, holding onto each other in the stillness of the courtyard, but it wasn’t long before Cody took a step back, retreating to give them some space. Anakin barely noticed the movement, too caught up in the quiet, the soft inhalations of Obi-Wan as he struggled to regain his composure.

Obi-Wan eventually pulled back, but only slightly. His hands rested on Anakin’s shoulders, his thumb tracing circles as if trying to ground himself.

“Obi-Wan…” Anakin’s voice was low, tinged with pain. “How long have you been carrying this? How long have you been… suffering like this?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were distant, and for a moment, Anakin wondered if he had even heard him. But then Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered to his, and for the briefest of moments, Anakin saw the storm inside him—the same one that raged in Anakin’s chest.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Obi-Wan whispered, looking away. “I didn’t want you to see how broken I’ve become.”

Anakin shook his head, his hand reaching out to gently cup Obi-Wan’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Obi-Wan, you are broken. We all are. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”

Obi-Wan's throat tightened. Anakin could see it, that struggle, the battle to keep the emotions at bay. But it was impossible for Obi-Wan to keep the weight of it all contained anymore. The dam had burst.

"I—" Obi-Wan began, his voice breaking. He took a deep breath, as if trying to gather his thoughts. "I don’t know what to do with all this. Palpatine... everything he’s done…it’s not just a betrayal. It’s devastation. I can’t believe I didn’t see it. All these years, I was blind, Anakin. And now, I’m...I’m not sure who I am anymore.”

Anakin’s heart broke at the words. He could feel the tremor in Obi-Wan’s hands, the quiet turmoil that had been gnawing at him for so long.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispered again, his voice stronger now. “You’re still Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re the man who taught me how to fight, how to be a prince. You’re the man who saved me—who kept me from drowning myself in duty. You’re not a lie, you’re not broken. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Anakin saw something like peace flicker in them. A small, tentative relief.

“I don’t deserve your loyalty,” Obi-Wan murmured.

Anakin smiled, his hand brushing over Obi-Wan’s cheek. “You deserve everything, Obi-Wan. And I’m going to make sure you have it. You don’t have to carry this alone. Not anymore.”

A silence settled between them, a quiet understanding. Obi-Wan may have been broken, but he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

As they stood there, Anakin felt the weight of the world’s cruelty press down on both of them. But he also felt something else. Something more powerful.

Hope.

~~~~~

Rex’s boots echoed against the stone floor as he entered the courtyard with Cody, his armor clinking with each step. He had been on the outskirts of the base, scanning for any threats, but now that the mission was over, it was time to return. The last thing he wanted was to get caught up in Palpatine’s web of suspicion. He wasn’t about to let Obi-Wan or Anakin get swept up in whatever twisted game the Sith King was playing.

His eyes quickly scanned the scene. Anakin was standing close to Obi-Wan, the two of them locked in a quiet, intense moment. There was a softness in Anakin’s posture, something that Rex hadn’t seen in a long while. His captain was usually all fire, all command. But now? Now, he was holding on to Obi-Wan as though the very act of it kept him tethered to something, anything, that wasn’t broken.

Cody gave Rex a small, acknowledging nod, stepping aside as Rex approached the pair.

"We need to go," Rex said, his voice low but firm. "If we stay here any longer, Palpatine will start asking questions. We can't afford to be late."

Anakin’s head snapped around, his eyes widening with a mix of reluctance and anxiety. Rex knew his friend wasn’t ready to face what waited for him back at the capital, but the truth was, none of them were.

Obi-Wan shifted beside Anakin, his shoulders tensing visibly. His gaze darted to Rex, then back to the ground, his silence deafening. It was clear that he was not in a hurry to return to the world of manipulation, betrayal, and endless schemes. He had suffered too much, and Rex could see the pain etched into the older man’s face, the weight of it dragging him down, deeper than anyone knew.

"Obi-Wan…" Rex began gently, but the Prince raised his hand in a gesture of quiet restraint.

“I’m not ready to face him,” Obi-Wan murmured, his voice raw and fragile. "Not after everything.”

Anakin’s grip tightened on his shoulder, his fingers pressing into Obi-Wan’s worn armor. His voice was soft, but the determination in it was unmistakable. “We have no choice, Obi-Wan. We’ll get through this, okay? Together.”

Obi-Wan’s chest rose and fell with a heavy breath, his hands resting against Anakin’s as if anchoring himself to something solid. He was struggling, Rex could see that. But Anakin was right. Palpatine was a master of manipulation, and any suspicion would be disastrous.

Cody stepped forward, his voice pragmatic. "We need to act like nothing’s changed. Nothing is wrong. We go back, keep our heads down, and pretend like everything’s fine. We can’t show weakness, not now. Not when we know what we’re up against."

Obi-Wan’s face hardened at Cody’s words, but there was a subtle flicker of something in his eyes—resentment, maybe. It was clear that the idea of pretending, of putting on a facade, was painful for him. He had always been the pillar, the steadfast Prince who had carried the weight of countless burdens. Now, being forced into this role again, pretending to be whole when everything inside him had shattered, felt like an impossible task.

Rex met Obi-Wan’s eyes, his own expression softening. "We’ll get through this, Obi-Wan. I promise you. But for now, we need to act like everything’s fine. It’s the only way."

There was a long pause. Anakin looked between Obi-Wan and Rex, his jaw clenched, his brow furrowed. It was clear he wasn’t happy with the plan, but he wasn’t about to argue.

Obi-Wan’s gaze lingered on the ground for a moment longer before he nodded, his movements slow and deliberate. "Fine," he whispered, though the word sounded like a bitter pill.

Anakin’s hand slid off his shoulder, but he remained close, a quiet reassurance in his presence. "It’s going to be okay, Obi-Wan. We’ll get through this together. I won’t let you face it alone."

Obi-Wan didn’t look up, but the weight on his shoulders seemed to ease, if only slightly. "I don’t deserve your loyalty, Anakin," he muttered, voice barely audible.

Anakin’s reply was simple but firm. "You do. And I’ll prove it."

Rex watched them for a moment longer, knowing full well the challenge ahead. They were all facing an enemy who had already taken so much from them. But at least now, for this brief moment, they had each other.

Cody cleared his throat, bringing Rex’s attention back to the matter at hand. "We’re ready to move out when you are, sir."

Rex nodded, signaling for the others to follow. “Let’s keep it tight, team. No mistakes.”

Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan, offering him a small, encouraging smile. Obi-Wan hesitated for a heartbeat before returning a faint nod, and with that, they started the long walk back to the ship.

The journey back wouldn’t be easy. None of them were okay, but as long as they had each other, they would survive.

Rex watched them both, the two men who had been at the heart of so much turmoil—and yet, even now, he could feel the unspoken bond between them. It was strong. Stronger than the galaxy’s cruelty. They just had to hold on long enough to see through the storm.

As they moved forward, Rex kept his eyes ahead, ever watchful, ever loyal. There was no telling what Palpatine had planned next, but Rex knew one thing for certain—he wasn’t going to let his brothers fall without a fight.

~~~~~

The rumble of the carriage’s wheels against the cracked stone was a soft, rhythmic lullaby. The steady motion made the trip feel like it could go on forever, but the weight of the journey was beginning to take its toll. Inside the dimly lit carriage, only the occasional hum of the engine filled the space, the rest consumed by silence.

Anakin and Rex sat across from each other, their bodies slumped in exhaustion. Anakin’s face was pressed against the glass, his eyes closed but his features still tense, even in sleep. His hand, still gripping Obi-Wan’s cloak from earlier, had fallen limp beside him, a subtle reminder of just how much of himself he had given to hold on to the fragile peace they’d found. His breath came slow, heavy, as if even in rest, he couldn’t escape the weight of what loomed over them all.

Rex, too, had drifted off, his helmet resting on the seat beside him, his head tipped back against the worn leather. Even in sleep, his posture was unyielding, like a soldier standing guard. The faintest smile tugged at his lips, a sign of the bond they shared, but even in his sleep, there was a quiet alertness to him. Old habits died hard.

Across from them, Obi-Wan sat with his head tilted back, his eyes closed, but the tension in his posture was unmistakable. His once proud figure now seemed more fragile, slumped as if the very air in the carriage was too heavy for him. The hollow look in his eyes, even when they were closed, suggested something deeper—something that wasn’t easily put to rest.

Cody sat beside him, leaning slightly toward Obi-Wan, ever watchful. His gaze flickered between the two sleeping figures before returning to Obi-Wan, his concern growing. He knew that Obi-Wan hadn’t truly found rest, not even now. The Prince’s mind was still a battlefield, locked in turmoil that Cody could never fully understand.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody murmured quietly, the sound almost lost in the hum of the carriage. “You’re not alone.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered open, revealing a depth of exhaustion that Cody hadn’t seen in a long time. His gaze, distant and unfocused, wandered across the carriage, never quite landing on anything for too long.

“I know,” Obi-Wan whispered, but the words lacked conviction. There was too much doubt in his voice, too much fear. His hands, once so steady, were clenched into tight fists, his knuckles white against the fabric of his cloak. "But it feels...like I'm losing everything, Cody."

Cody shifted closer, his voice steady, offering what little comfort he could. "The world’s a dark place right now, but you’ve always been a light for others, Obi-Wan. Don’t forget that."

Obi-Wan turned his head, meeting Cody’s gaze for the first time in what felt like forever. The quiet pain in his eyes made Cody’s chest tighten. It wasn’t just the weight of Palpatine’s manipulation; it was something deeper, a sense of loss and disillusionment that had grown over years, like a slow poison that had finally taken root.

“I can’t seem to find my way anymore,” Obi-Wan confessed, his voice hoarse, raw with vulnerability. "Everything I believed in...it’s slipping away."

Cody's hand moved instinctively, a reassuring gesture, and he placed it gently on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. "You’ll find your way, Obi-Wan. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you’re stronger than you think."

There was a long silence between them. The words seemed inadequate to bridge the chasm Obi-Wan felt, but Cody hoped they offered some comfort, some small tether to hold onto in the storm.

Obi-Wan’s head drooped, and he let out a slow, exhausted breath. For a moment, Cody thought he might say something else, but instead, Obi-Wan just let his eyes slip closed once more.

Cody watched him carefully, his eyes softening in understanding. "It’s okay to rest, Obi-Wan," he said quietly. "We’ve got you."

Obi-Wan didn’t answer, but the way his body relaxed slightly, the tension easing out of his shoulders, told Cody that his words had found their mark, if only for a moment.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Obi-Wan shifted closer, his head tilting toward Cody’s shoulder. Cody didn’t move, letting the contact happen naturally, offering what little comfort he could. Obi-Wan’s weight, though light, felt heavier than it should, the fragility of it stark against the strength Cody had come to expect from him.

A few minutes passed, and Cody found himself leaning against Obi-Wan in turn. The two men, once so certain of their paths, now found solace in the quiet company of each other. Slowly, Cody’s eyes closed as well, the exhaustion of the mission and the events that followed finally catching up with him. The soft rhythm of the carriage, the quiet hum of the engine, and the steady presence of Obi-Wan beside him, allowed him to find a fleeting moment of peace.

Eventually, the two of them, despite the weight of the world pressing in on their shoulders, fell asleep side by side. Obi-Wan’s head rested against Cody’s, and Cody’s hand still remained gently on his shoulder, a small anchor in the chaos they both felt.

As the hours wore on, Anakin and Rex remained asleep, their steady breathing a reminder that despite everything, there was still hope—still something worth holding on to, even in the darkest of times.

For now, they were together. And that was enough.

Chapter Text

The carriage finally slowed, the hum of the engine dying down as they reached the base. The distant lights of the military complex flickered like fireflies in the night, casting long shadows on the pavement below. Cody’s boots hit the ground first, the sound sharp against the hard surface as he stepped out into the cool night air. He was still slightly groggy, but his body was moving on autopilot, a soldier’s instinct kicking in.

Obi-Wan followed close behind, his movements slower, more deliberate, as if the weight of the day was still hanging on his shoulders. His brow furrowed slightly, his eyes distant as he glanced up at the dark sky, taking a deep breath, perhaps searching for some semblance of peace that had long since evaded him.

Cody watched him for a moment, his gaze lingering just a bit longer than it should have, but it was easy to slip into the habit. The way Obi-Wan carried himself, even now, made it hard to look away. There was something about him, an unspoken strength mixed with quiet vulnerability, that Cody couldn’t quite put into words.

“Are you all right?” Cody asked, his voice soft, his gaze shifting between Obi-Wan’s pale face and the way he moved. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion, it was something else. The weight of what had happened was still there, and the knight could sense it. He’d known Obi-Wan long enough to read the subtle signs.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered toward him, meeting his gaze for a brief moment before dropping to the ground. "I’m fine, Cody,” Obi-Wan said, the words too smooth, too practiced. "Just tired. It’s been a long day."

Cody nodded, his mind briefly drifting back to the mission—the explosion, the debris, the way the wall had come crashing down. He had been closer to the blast than he liked to admit, barely escaping the worst of it. Admittedly, Cody was hiding things, too. He hadn’t told Obi-Wan about the aches in his body, the way his ribs still throbbed faintly or how his arm still felt stiff from the impact. It wasn’t important. They had bigger things to worry about.

"Are you okay?" Obi-Wan pressed, his voice softer now, his concern palpable. The way he stood there, his posture just a little too tense, betrayed a quiet kind of worry. Cody had noticed this about Obi-Wan before—how deeply he cared, how the smallest thing could make him worry for others. He would never say it aloud, but it was always there, lingering in the way Obi-Wan held himself.

Cody waved a hand dismissively, trying to brush it off with a grin. "I’m fine, Obi-Wan. You don’t need to worry about me. You’ve been through enough already."

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched in a smile, but it was more of a weary curve than a true one. "You don’t make it easy to care for you, do you, Cody?"

The way Obi-Wan said his name—gentle, but with a certain fondness—made Cody’s heart skip a beat. His breath hitched just slightly, but he masked it with a low chuckle. "Well, someone’s got to keep you on your toes, right?" he teased, hoping to deflect any further attention on himself. "You’ve been through the wringer too. Don’t think I didn’t notice you getting a little too close to the blast."

Obi-Wan gave a light, almost imperceptible nod. His fingers brushed against his own chest for a brief moment, almost as if he was checking himself, reassured by the fact that his body was still intact.

"I don’t need to be the one to carry all of this, Cody," Obi-Wan said quietly, and the weight of his words hung between them like a veil. He turned his face slightly, looking away as if searching for something to steady himself. His expression softened as he glanced back at the younger man beside him, his voice lowering again. "But thank you—for being here. For...looking after me."

Cody didn’t know what to say to that, so he just smiled again, his gaze softening. "What are friends for, Obi-Wan?"

They walked in silence for a few steps, the sounds of their boots on the ground the only thing breaking the quiet. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence—far from it—but a comfortable one that felt like they were both giving each other space, yet still holding on to that unspoken bond between them.

As they neared Obi-Wan’s quarters, Cody stepped a little closer, offering his support in a way that felt natural. He didn’t need to ask if Obi-Wan was okay—he could see it. Obi-Wan was carrying something heavier than physical exhaustion, something invisible that only the Jedi Master could truly comprehend.

When they reached the door to Obi-Wan’s quarters, Cody paused, giving Obi-Wan the space to enter first. "I think you should rest," he said, his voice casual but filled with a note of care. "You look like you could sleep for a week."

Obi-Wan’s tired smile made Cody’s chest tighten, but he hid it well. "I think I might take you up on that, Cody. It’s been a long few days."

Cody lingered for a moment, his hand resting lightly on the doorframe. His gaze caught Obi-Wan’s again, and for just a second, the world seemed to narrow around them. "Just remember," Cody said, his tone quieter now, "you don’t have to carry it all alone. You’ve got me."

Obi-Wan nodded, his gaze lingering on Cody for just a beat longer than expected, and for a fleeting moment, Cody thought he saw something deeper in Obi-Wan’s eyes—something that mirrored the feeling he couldn’t put a name to. But then it was gone, and Obi-Wan’s smile returned, softer this time, more genuine.

"I know," Obi-Wan replied, his voice carrying a quiet kind of certainty. "Thank you, Cody. For everything."

As Obi-Wan stepped inside, Cody took a final look at him—at the way the Jedi moved, the way he carried himself even in such fragile moments. It was always so easy to admire him, but tonight, something about it felt different. The bond between them was there, thicker than ever, woven with years of loyalty and shared experiences. But what is it really?Cody wondered, his heart heavy with a thought he hadn’t fully explored.

He didn’t have a name for it, not yet. But that didn’t change the way he felt. Not one bit.

"Goodnight, Obi-Wan," Cody called softly as Obi-Wan disappeared into his quarters.

"Goodnight, Cody," came the reply, the quiet warmth in Obi-Wan’s voice making something stir inside him.

And with that, Cody turned, heading back down the hall. The quiet of the base wrapped around him, but his thoughts were consumed by the gentle weight of Obi-Wan’s presence, and for the first time in a long time, he wondered if that unspoken connection between them might be more than he thought.

~~~~~

Cody’s boots echoed sharply against the cold, stone floor of the hall as he made his way back to his quarters. The weight of the day was starting to settle in, and the exhaustion was starting to creep back into his muscles, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something still loomed over him—something he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it’s the silence, he thought to himself. The calm before whatever storm’s coming next.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the soft rustle of fabric and the low hum of footsteps that didn’t match the cadence of any other soldier or officer he knew. A chill swept down his spine, and instinctively, his back stiffened. He didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

King Palpatine.

Cody’s pulse quickened, and the familiar knot of fear twisted in his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to the King without feeling a tightness in his chest, without the quiet dread of his presence sinking into his bones. Palpatine rarely left the throne room, and when he did, it was never for anything good.

As Palpatine approached, Cody kept his gaze fixed ahead, but his heartbeat was almost deafening in his ears. He was used to the King’s control over others, the way he twisted words and manipulated those around him, but Cody—Cody had always been a soldier. His loyalty was to the Republic. But in the face of Palpatine’s calm, unsettling power, his loyalty felt like nothing more than a thin thread about to snap.

"Sir Cody," Palpatine’s voice came smoothly, almost kindly—too kindly. "I trust the day has gone well for you? It is rare to see you out here in the hall, far from your usual post."

Cody’s breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t let his discomfort show. Instead, he stood taller, locking his jaw and keeping his hands clasped behind his back. Don’t show fear. Don’t let him see you sweat. "Yes, Your Majesty," he replied, his voice steady, even though every fiber of his being wanted to do anything but stand in front of Palpatine. "Everything is as it should be."

Palpatine stopped in front of him, his eyes narrowing just slightly as if considering something far beyond simple pleasantries. "I trust Obi-Wan is doing well," Palpatine said, his words deliberate, each syllable wrapped in an almost syrupy sweetness that sent a ripple of unease through Cody. "He’s been through quite a lot recently. How is he?"

The question hit Cody like a weight on his chest. Obi-Wan… He thought of the Prince, so broken in ways that no one else could understand, his quiet suffering, his unspoken pain. And here Palpatine was, acting like the concerned ruler, pretending to care. Cody had seen enough manipulation in his life to know when something wasn’t right. This man is poison, he thought, fighting to keep his tone level.

"Obi-Wan is fine, Your Majesty," Cody said, his voice betraying none of the panic churning inside him. "He’s recovering well."

But Palpatine’s expression didn’t change. He seemed almost too interested, like a predator circling its prey, waiting for a sign of weakness. "I see," he said slowly, his lips curling into a smile that never reached his eyes. "I trust he’s doing better from the incident during the negotiations?"

Cody froze. There it was—the truth hanging between them like a shadow. Damn it. He forced himself to think quickly.

"Yes," he replied, swallowing the rising panic in his throat. "But there was another attack while we were talking with King Qui-Gon. It was nothing we couldn’t handle."

Palpatine raised an eyebrow, as though truly surprised by the information. "Another attack? How…unfortunate." His voice was thick with feigned sympathy, but Cody could see the glint of curiosity in his eyes, the calculating way he was absorbing every word. Don’t let him in. Don’t let him see how much you’re shaking.

"It was nothing," Cody added hastily, trying to push the conversation in a direction that didn’t dwell on the attack. "Just a minor issue. We’ve dealt with it. There’s no need to concern yourself, Your Majesty."

Palpatine tilted his head slightly, his dark gaze flicking over Cody with an unsettling calmness. "I suppose that’s good to hear." There was a pause, then, in a voice that felt far too casual, "And you, Cody? Are you alright? I trust the Jedi took care of you?"

The question hit like a punch to the gut. Cody had forgotten, or maybe he had tried to forget, the pain and the explosion. It had been a blur—a flash of blinding light, the sound of something breaking, the crashing weight of the debris, the tightness in his chest, and then, somehow, being healed by the Jedi medics on Coruscant. They had worked quickly, efficiently, but the feeling of being so close to death still clung to him, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

He wasn’t going to let Palpatine see that fear, though. He couldn’t.

"I’m fine, Your Majesty," Cody said with a confident smile that felt too tight around his lips. "The Jedi healed me up in Coruscant. No lingering issues."

Palpatine didn’t respond right away, just watching him with that unnerving, predatory stillness. His fingers brushed lightly against the edge of his robes as if considering something before speaking again. "Good," he said smoothly. "It’s important that our soldiers stay strong. We wouldn’t want any… weakness to show, would we?"

Cody’s stomach twisted at the implication, but he didn’t react, didn’t let anything break his calm facade. You’re a soldier,he reminded himself. A soldier doesn't flinch.

The King’s voice softened again, almost curiously. "Tell me, Cody, has Obi-Wan changed his mind on the Jedi? Perhaps… now that he has had time to reflect on recent events, his views might have shifted."

Cody’s chest tightened at the question, and his mind raced. What the hell is he trying to get at? He couldn’t risk giving Palpatine any indication of what was truly happening. He had to lie. Had to.

"I’m not sure," Cody said carefully, a neutral mask settling into place. "I haven’t had the chance to speak to him much about it. I’m sure he’ll come to his conclusions in his own time."

Palpatine stared at him for a long moment, his dark eyes narrowing in thought. Was he buying it? Cody couldn’t tell, couldn’t read his expression enough to figure out what was going on behind the mask of politeness.

After a few seconds, Palpatine gave a slow nod, his smile returning, but it was colder this time. "I see. Well, I’ll leave you to your duties, Sir Cody." He tilted his head slightly, his voice darkening just enough to send a ripple of fear down Cody’s spine. "But do keep an eye on Obi-Wan, won’t you? He’s a valuable asset to us. I would hate for him to… slip."

Cody didn’t flinch, but inside, his pulse was racing. His body was screaming at him to move, to get away from Palpatine’s suffocating presence, but he kept himself still, nodding stiffly. "Of course, Your Majesty. I’ll make sure of it."

With that, Palpatine turned, his robes swirling around him as he walked away, his presence still lingering like a shadow. Cody stood there for a long moment, fighting to steady his breath, before finally letting out a shaky exhale.

It was hard to shake the cold, nauseating feeling that Palpatine had seen straight through him, and maybe even straight through Obi-Wan.

It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

~~~~~

The soft light of the early morning filtered through the blinds, casting gentle shadows across the room. Obi-Wan stood by the window, his hand resting lightly against the cool glass, looking out at the distant skyline. The city stretched out before him, sprawling and alive, a sight that usually brought him a sense of peace, but today it only reminded him of the uncertainty hanging over everything.

His mind hadn’t been able to quiet since the night before—since the conversations with Anakin, with Cody, and the overwhelming weight of everything that had been happening. It was like he was drowning in an ocean of what-ifs and could-have-beens. The weight of Palpatine's manipulation hung heavy on his chest, a truth he could no longer ignore, no matter how hard he tried to push it aside.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, feeling the familiar burn of tears just beneath the surface. No. He wouldn’t allow himself to break again, not now. He had already shed enough tears in private, already let the darkness creep in too far. He had to stay focused. He had to keep going. But the weight of his own failure felt crushing, and it felt like it was only getting heavier with each passing moment.

The soft sound of the door opening broke his reverie, and Obi-Wan immediately stiffened. He turned to see Cody standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable but the tension in his posture unmistakable.

"Morning, Obi-Wan," Cody said, his voice as steady as ever, but there was a slight edge to it that didn’t escape Obi-Wan’s notice.

"Good morning, Cody," Obi-Wan replied, offering him a small, weary smile as he crossed the room to meet him. He had noticed the way Cody’s gaze flickered toward him last night, the way the captain had been quietly concerned, the way he had stayed close, even when the others retreated. It had been a comfort in a world that was quickly becoming far too unfamiliar.

Cody stepped further into the room, his boots scuffing lightly against the stone floor. He looked slightly uneasy, his hands resting at his sides as though he were holding back something.

"I—" Cody started, but he hesitated, and for a moment, Obi-Wan could see the familiar internal struggle in his face. The mask Cody wore was usually so steady, but right now, it was slipping just a little, and Obi-Wan knew he had something important to say.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What’s on your mind, Cody?" he asked, his voice quieter now, more probing.

Cody glanced away, exhaling sharply through his nose, as though gathering the right words. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then stepped a little closer. "I had a conversation with Palpatine last night," he said, his voice low, the words almost clipped, like he was trying to keep something from slipping out.

Obi-Wan’s chest tightened, his instincts kicking in immediately. Palpatine. It was a name that felt like poison on his tongue, but he knew the conversation was inevitable. He could only imagine what Palpatine had said to Cody. What game is he playing now?

"Did he say anything of consequence?" Obi-Wan asked, his tone careful. He could feel his mind already spinning, analyzing the situation from all angles. Anything that could give us an edge, anything that could tell me what Palpatine’s true intentions are.

Cody’s jaw clenched. "Not much. Just some small talk, but it was clear he was fishing for information." Cody’s gaze dropped briefly, like he was trying to measure whether to continue, then he looked Obi-Wan in the eye again. "He asked about you. About how you were doing." Cody’s voice became edged with a bitterness that Obi-Wan knew well. "It was like he’s trying to gauge if you’re with us, or…something else."

Obi-Wan’s breath hitched at the mention of Palpatine’s interest. So he still knows that I’m uncertain. A thousand thoughts raced through Obi-Wan’s mind, none of them comforting. He is waiting for me to crack. He’s waiting for a sign.

"I told him you were fine," Cody continued, his tone softening just slightly. "I told him you were recovering well from everything, and that you didn’t seem to be in any danger."

Obi-Wan nodded, his expression unreadable. "And did he ask anything else?"

Cody hesitated, the silence stretching a little longer than usual before he spoke again. "He asked if you’ve changed your mind about the Jedi, Obi-Wan. If your views had shifted after everything that’s happened." Cody paused, his eyes darkening, his voice lowering further. "I didn’t know what to say. I just said I wasn’t sure, that it’s something only you could decide."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling around him. Palpatine’s interest in his views wasn’t surprising. He’s watching me, waiting for me to crack. His fingers tightened into fists at his sides. The idea that Palpatine had already figured out how broken he truly was sent a tremor through him. The tension in his body was a constant reminder of how far he had fallen. What’s the next move, then? He thought, pacing slightly. What game is he playing?

Obi-Wan forced himself to breathe, to stay calm. He couldn't show weakness. Not in front of Palpatine. Not in front of anyone.

Cody’s gaze remained steady. "I didn’t want to give him anything more than that, Obi-Wan, but I don’t think he bought it."

Obi-Wan could hear the frustration in Cody’s voice, and it made his chest ache. The last thing he wanted was to drag Cody into the storm that was threatening to swallow him. The guilt he carried was like a weight that pressed against his ribs.

"I don’t want you to feel like you have to protect me, Cody," Obi-Wan said, his voice more fragile than he intended, but the words came from the heart. "I know you’re just trying to help, but I don’t want to endanger you, too."

Cody’s gaze softened, and he took a small step forward. "I want to protect you, Obi-Wan," he said quietly. "I’m standing by you." His words were simple, but the sincerity behind them made Obi-Wan’s heart stutter in his chest. He had heard those words before, from soldiers and comrades, but the way Cody said it—there was something deeper in it this time.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Cody stood still, just looking at him, and Obi-Wan found himself lost in the depth of his gaze, in the quiet strength that radiated from him. Cody had always been a soldier first, but now, there was something else in his eyes—something Obi-Wan had never allowed himself to acknowledge before.

It was a softness that scared him, and for a brief moment, he felt the overwhelming urge to reach out, to close the gap that had always existed between them. But he didn’t. Not now. Not when everything around them felt so uncertain.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Thank you, Cody," he said, his voice gentle, almost tentative. "I… appreciate it. More than you know."

Cody nodded, offering him a small, reassuring smile, though there was a shadow of something unspoken in his eyes. "Anytime, Obi-Wan," he said softly, before turning to leave the room.

Obi-Wan stood there for a long moment after the door clicked shut behind him. His thoughts spiraled in a thousand directions, but one thing was clear. Palpatine’s watching. Waiting for me to break. He knew what he had to do, but it was getting harder to walk the line between truth and deception, between duty and the crushing weight of what he had lost.

And the more time he spent with Cody, the more he realised how much he was relying on the man at his side.

Chapter Text

Anakin leaned against the wall of the corridor, arms crossed, his gaze flickering as he observed the steady pace of Cody walking toward him. It was clear that the man had something on his mind, but Anakin could see the hesitance, the tightness in his shoulders, and the guarded expression on his face. It was a look Anakin knew all too well—one that said someone was carrying a weight, but wasn’t quite ready to talk about it.

Anakin pushed himself off the wall, stepping forward just as Cody reached him. "Cody," he said, his tone casual but with an underlying edge of curiosity. "You alright?"

Cody stopped in his tracks, blinking in surprise at the question, before offering a tight, almost forced smile. "Yeah. Just… making sure Obi-Wan is settled in. He’s had a rough time."

Anakin’s lips twitched at the mention of Obi-Wan’s name. Yeah, that’s one way to put it. He didn’t need to ask the details to know what Cody meant. The weight in Obi-Wan’s eyes had been more than enough to tell anyone who paid attention just how deep the cracks ran. Anakin had seen it, had felt it. And he had also seen how Cody had stayed by Obi-Wan’s side, how he had been there for the older Jedi when everyone else had kept their distance.

Too bad neither of them knows what to do about it yet.

"Look," Anakin said, his voice dropping slightly, more serious now. "I don’t want to make this weird, but you and Obi-Wan…" He trailed off, leaning in slightly as though to imply there was something he knew that Cody didn’t.

Cody’s eyes darted to the side, the smallest flicker of tension creeping across his face. He opened his mouth, probably ready to dismiss it, but Anakin wasn’t having it. He had seen the way Cody looked at Obi-Wan—hell, anyone with a brain could see it. The way his gaze softened when Obi-Wan wasn’t looking. The way he hovered, always one step behind, ready to catch him if he fell.

But more than that, Anakin could feel it. The pull between them. It wasn’t just loyalty or camaraderie—it was something deeper. And Anakin knew that if Cody didn’t figure it out soon, things were going to get even more complicated.

"You’re good at pretending, Cody," Anakin continued, a wry smile pulling at his lips. "But you don’t fool me."

Cody looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly, and Anakin could almost see the wheels turning in his head. It’s now or never, Rex. The words echoed in his mind. There was something more to this, something about Obi-Wan that Anakin couldn’t ignore, and it was starting to come to a head.

"You and Obi-Wan…" Anakin repeated, slower this time, his voice quieter, a little more pointed. "It’s not just about loyalty, is it?"

Cody stiffened, and for a brief moment, Anakin saw the walls go up, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something vulnerable, something uncertain. Cody opened his mouth, like he was about to deny it, but Anakin beat him to it.

"Don’t try to hide it from me," Anakin said softly, his voice low but firm. "I can see it, Cody. I’ve known for a while now. You care about him. More than you want to admit."

Cody was silent for a long moment, his jaw clenched. Anakin could almost feel the struggle that ran through him—the internal tug-of-war between what he felt and what he was trying so hard to suppress. And that was when it hit him, all at once. The truth was right there, staring him in the face, and it was something Anakin had known but hadn’t fully let himself acknowledge until now.

Cody wasn’t just loyal to Obi-Wan. He was in love with him.

Anakin couldn’t help but smile a little, an almost sad, knowing smile. He had seen it in the way Cody moved around Obi-Wan, the little things that Cody did without thinking. He wasn’t blind to it, no matter how well Cody hid it behind that implacable soldier mask.

"You’re not fooling anyone, man," Anakin continued, his smile softening into something almost sympathetic. "Obi-Wan’s not blind either. He’s just… stubborn. You know that, right?" He added with a knowing glance.

Cody’s expression flickered, a mixture of confusion and something darker in his eyes. He glanced down for a moment, hands twitching at his sides like he wasn’t sure where to place them. "I don’t—"

"Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about," Anakin cut in, not unkindly, but with a tone that brooked no argument. "I see the way you look at him. And it’s not just because you’re his knight. You’re not fooling me, Cody. Not for a second."

Cody’s chest rose with a sharp inhale, the pressure of Anakin’s words hanging thick between them. He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking to the side, his mind clearly working through the words Anakin had just laid bare.

"I don’t know what you're talking about," Cody said after a pause, but his voice was softer now, quieter. He didn’t have the same conviction in the words as before. Anakin could tell that the defense wasn’t as solid as it used to be.

Anakin tilted his head slightly, taking in Cody’s expression, the tightness around his eyes, the way he looked at the floor. There was no anger in him, just… confusion. And maybe a little fear.

"Yeah, you do," Anakin said, leaning in slightly, his voice quieter. "It’s okay. You don’t have to admit it yet. But Obi-Wan? He’s not going anywhere. And neither are you."

Cody swallowed, his hand twitching at his side, unsure what to do with the truth now that it was out in the open. "I… don’t know what to do with that, Anakin."

"You’ll figure it out." Anakin’s voice softened, the teasing edge gone, replaced by a rare moment of sincerity. "But you have to remember, Cody, he’s been through hell. So have you. Neither of you deserve to hide from what you’re feeling. You’ve both lost too much."

Cody just nodded, still silent, but Anakin could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He wasn’t sure where this conversation had left Cody, but Anakin wasn’t going to push him. He could tell that for the first time in a long while, the walls Cody had built were cracking. And maybe, just maybe, Cody would finally be able to see what Anakin had known all along.

"Just take care of him, alright?" Anakin said with a soft smile, clapping Cody on the shoulder.

Cody’s eyes flickered to him for a second, and for a brief moment, Anakin saw a shift. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there. A kind of quiet understanding.

"Always," Cody muttered, and with that, he turned and walked off down the corridor, leaving Anakin standing there, feeling the weight of the conversation hanging in the air.

Anakin watched him go, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He had a feeling things were about to get interesting, and for the first time in a long while, he couldn’t wait to see how it would all play out.

~~~~~

Cody walked down the hall, his steps slow and heavy, his mind a swirl of thoughts he couldn’t quite make sense of. Anakin’s words echoed in his ears, a constant hum that was growing louder, harder to ignore.

You’re not fooling me, Cody. Not for a second.

He could feel the weight of it, the way Anakin had laid it out so confidently. It wasn’t just the way Anakin spoke—there was something in his tone, a knowing, an understanding that had rattled Cody deep in his bones. It wasn’t the first time someone had noticed the closeness between him and Obi-Wan. Hell, the entire kingdom probably saw it. But hearing it from Anakin, hearing it so plainly...made something shift in Cody’s chest.

He’s not wrong, is he?

He stopped, his boots clicking against the cold stone floor as he leaned against the wall, breathing in deeply. His mind was a battlefield, a thousand different questions spinning, but none of them felt like the right ones.

He knew he and Obi-Wan had always shared a bond, something that went beyond their roles as prince and knight, something deeper that neither of them had ever fully acknowledged. They trusted each other with their lives—hell, they had done that time and time again. They had fought side by side through battles that could have torn them apart, yet had only brought them closer. The kind of bond that, for all its strength, was always a little dangerous. Because the more time they spent together, the more it became impossible to ignore the pull between them.

But love?

He had never thought about it like that. It didn’t seem possible. Cody had spent his entire life as a soldier, trained to follow orders, trained to never question his duty. There had never been time for... this. And yet, as Anakin’s words repeated in his head, Cody found himself questioning everything he’d ever assumed.

His mind returned to the moments when he was with Obi-Wan—how his heart would race when their hands brushed, how the silence between them often felt more comfortable than the chatter of others. How he found himself seeking Obi-Wan out in a crowd, how his gaze would linger just a little too long when Obi-Wan wasn’t looking.

But that could be...anything, right? Respect. Friendship. Hell, maybe just relief after everything they’d been through.

Right?

Cody shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but they only grew more tangled. He leaned his forehead against the cold wall, closing his eyes. The steady rhythm of his heart felt loud in his ears, too loud, too insistent, and it made everything harder to ignore.

He had never let himself think about it before, never dared to. Because to think about it...to really think about it, would mean questioning everything. And Cody had enough to question already. There was enough to worry about, between the war, the manipulations of Palpatine, the ever-growing instability of the kingdom.

But even as he thought about those things, his mind kept drifting back to Obi-Wan. To the way Obi-Wan had looked at him when they’d shared quiet moments, when their hands brushed in passing, when their gazes locked across the room. There was something in Obi-Wan’s eyes that spoke volumes without saying a word—something fragile, something longing.

Is it just me, or is he feeling it too?

The question hit him like a shockwave, but Cody quickly tried to push it down, bury it under the familiar weight of duty. Obi-Wan is my superior, he reminded himself. He’s not...we can’t be that.

But even as he told himself that, there was something in the pit of his stomach that refused to listen. Maybe it was the quiet moments when they’d shared a look, or when Obi-Wan had seemed to need him in ways he hadn’t needed anyone else. It had always been subtle, those little signals. But Cody had felt them. He had felt Obi-Wan.

Anakin’s words, though, kept circling back. The way he’d spoken about it, as though it was obvious. You care about him. More than you want to admit.

Cody wanted to argue, to say that wasn’t true. But a part of him couldn’t. A part of him was starting to see the truth, even if it wasn’t fully formed in his mind yet.

He leaned back, pushing off from the wall, his gaze still unfocused, his thoughts spiraling. He wanted to go to Obi-Wan, to see him, to talk to him...but talk about what? What was there to even say?

What if Anakin was right? What if it wasn’t just loyalty—what if there was something more?

Cody swallowed hard, his throat tight. The weight of Anakin’s words hung heavy in his chest, and he couldn’t shake it. He wasn’t sure if he was afraid of the answer or of the question itself. But as much as he tried to push it aside, there was no denying the truth that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

He cared for Obi-Wan more than he could explain, more than he ever thought he should. It was as if the walls he’d built around himself were cracking, and the closer he got to Obi-Wan, the more impossible it became to ignore.

Cody took a shaky breath, stepping forward again, his mind racing, the questions swirling. He was walking the edge of something he didn’t understand. And the farther he went, the less sure he was of where it would take him.

But as he turned the corner and saw Obi-Wan’s quarters up ahead, his heart quickened. Without thinking, his steps grew faster, his body reacting on instinct. Obi-Wan was waiting for him, needing him, trusting him—whether or not Cody understood it, whether or not he was ready to admit what he felt.

Maybe it was time to face it. Even if it terrified him.

Maybe it was time to admit that he wasn’t just Obi-Wan’s knight anymore. And maybe, just maybe, he was something else entirely.

~~~~~

Rex walked through the hallway, his boots clicking softly against the polished floor as he made his way toward Anakin’s quarters. His mind was still occupied with the sight of Cody earlier—something was off. Cody had looked…unsettled. More so than usual. Something was gnawing at him, and Rex wasn’t sure what it was, but he’d seen that look on his brother’s face before. It was the kind of look that said something was about to snap.

He found Anakin standing near a window, his arms crossed as he looked out over the courtyard. Rex had learned a long time ago that when Anakin was lost in thought like that, something was brewing in his mind. Something that wasn’t always easy to decipher, but always seemed to lead to trouble.

"Hey, Anakin," Rex called out, drawing Anakin's attention as he stepped inside the room.

Anakin looked up, raising an eyebrow at Rex’s approach. "Rex. What’s up?"

Rex hesitated for a moment, then spoke, trying to keep his tone casual. "I saw Cody earlier. He was acting...strange. Like he was having some sort of crisis. You notice that?"

Anakin’s expression shifted, a subtle glint of something—understanding?—passing through his eyes. "I talked to him," Anakin replied, his voice low, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it. "I think he’s...coming to terms with something."

Rex frowned, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. "Coming to terms? With what?”

Anakin ran a hand through his hair, sighing as if the weight of the conversation was already exhausting him. "I told him what he’s been trying to hide from himself." He paused, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting Rex’s eyes again. "I told him he’s in love with Obi-Wan."

Rex blinked, momentarily stunned. "You told him what?"

Anakin’s lips quirked into something that was half-smile, half-smirk. "Yeah. That’s exactly what I said." He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, looking almost amused by the whole thing. "I mean, it’s pretty obvious, right?"

Rex's mind was still trying to catch up. "Wait a second. You told him? You just said it like that?"

Anakin’s smile widened, but there was a slight edge to it, like he was watching something unfold that had been inevitable from the start. "Well, I had to. Cody’s been running around in circles about it for ages. He’s clearly got some... feelings for Obi-Wan, but he doesn’t know what to do with them. And Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan doesn’t even realize it, I don’t think."

Rex’s mouth opened slightly, as if trying to process everything Anakin had just laid on him. "So you just told him straight up?"

"Pretty much," Anakin replied with a shrug. "He needed to hear it. Cody's been carrying it around for too long. It’s about time someone said it."

Rex shook his head, a wry grin forming. "I always knew Cody was a little slow on the uptake, but this? I didn’t think it’d take him this long to figure it out."

Anakin snorted. "Right? Obi-Wan and Cody are both walking around like they don’t even know what’s going on between them. It’s like they’re in some weird denial club."

Rex chuckled, leaning his shoulder against the wall, the tension in his chest easing just a little as he let out a sigh. "I’ve been watching them for a while now, and it’s painfully obvious. They’re both so blind, it’s almost comical." He paused, shaking his head again as he thought about it. "I don’t know who’s more clueless—Cody, or Obi-Wan."

Anakin raised a brow, his gaze flickering over Rex’s face with that same knowing glint in his eye. "You think Obi-Wan’s clueless, too?"

Rex rolled his eyes, an amused sigh escaping him. "Obi-Wan’s always been the master of pretending. The guy’s a negotiator, but when it comes to anything personal, he’s completely oblivious." He shook his head, crossing his arms, his thoughts momentarily drifting to the pair. "I’ve seen the way they look at each other. But neither of them’s ever willing to admit what’s right in front of them."

Anakin grinned, leaning back against the window, his expression light but there was something almost fond in his eyes. "I know. I don’t think either of them realizes just how much they’re actually in sync. But they’re both scared. Cody’s been buried in duty for so long, he doesn’t know how to feel anything else. And Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan has always been the one to put others before himself. He’s always protecting people—especially Cody—but never lets anyone in."

Rex let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head again. "And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to be good at reading people." He paused, his brow furrowing as the pieces started falling into place. "You think Cody knows what he’s feeling? I mean, really knows?"

Anakin leaned forward, his expression growing more serious. "I don’t think Cody’s even fully realized what’s going on yet. That’s why he’s short-circuiting. His whole world’s been about being a soldier, doing what’s expected of him, and now… now he’s confronted with this thing he doesn’t know how to handle. He’s never had time for anything other than duty. He’s never had time to think about... this."

Rex’s mind flashed back to the way Cody had looked earlier—so off—like he was on the verge of some kind of revelation he wasn’t ready for. His brother was always steady, always in control. But today? He’d looked like everything was slipping out of his hands, like something he couldn’t explain had just hit him hard.

"Well," Rex muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, "I guess that explains a lot. Poor guy’s been caught between wanting to protect Obi-Wan and…well, feeling something else entirely."

Anakin nodded, a small sigh escaping him. "Exactly. And Obi-Wan? I don’t even think he knows the depth of it. I’ve seen the way he looks at Cody when he thinks no one’s watching. It’s like he’s waiting for something...but he doesn’t realise he can have it."

Rex exhaled slowly, a slight laugh escaping him. "So, what’s next? You think they’ll ever figure it out on their own, or are we gonna have to stage an intervention?"

Anakin grinned. "I think it’s only a matter of time. But knowing those two? It’s either going to take another month or Cody’s on his way over there right now." He paused, his tone turning a little more serious as he looked at Rex. "But when they do figure it out? They’ll both be better for it."

Rex gave a half-smile, feeling the weight of Anakin’s words settle on his shoulders. He hoped that was true. He really did.

"Yeah, well, I hope it happens sooner rather than later," Rex said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "Watching those two dance around each other is starting to drive me insane."

Anakin laughed, his eyes lighting up with that familiar mischief. "Don’t worry, Rex. You’re not the only one who’s losing patience."

The two of them shared a quiet laugh, but there was something more—something deeper—underneath it all. A shared understanding, perhaps. They were soldiers. They fought for each other, protected each other, and saw things others couldn’t. But this...this was something beyond strategy and war. This was about the heart.

And the heart was always the hardest battlefield to win.

Chapter Text

Cody knocked gently on the door of Obi-Wan’s quarters, the sound oddly loud in the otherwise silent hallway. His heart was pounding in his chest, and despite the usual calm and steady demeanour he tried to maintain, he felt out of sorts. The realisation that had settled over him earlier—that he was in love with Obi-Wan—had not only shaken him, it had completely upended everything he thought he knew about himself, about his feelings, and about what it meant to be around Obi-Wan in the way that he was now.

Obi-Wan’s voice called from inside, warm and inviting, “Enter.”

Cody pushed the door open, finding Obi-Wan standing by the desk, the familiar surroundings of the room now somehow feeling different. Less like a safe place, and more like a battlefield. His mind kept replaying the conversation he had earlier with Anakin, the words still echoing in his ears. He’s in love with Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan turned his head as Cody entered, his gaze soft, the kind of look Cody had always interpreted as neutral, even if there was something more in it that he couldn’t name. “Cody,” Obi-Wan greeted, a smile on his face, though Cody noticed the way his eyes lingered just a little longer, a sign that maybe he had picked up on something. "Come in, sit down."

Cody nodded and moved to the desk, the weight of the moment heavy in his chest. He took a seat, still not looking at Obi-Wan directly. The room felt too close now, too intimate, and yet, strangely, like he had never been farther away from Obi-Wan. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the edge of the desk, his fingers tapping nervously against the wood. His mind raced, unsure of what to say or even if he could speak the words that had tangled themselves in his throat.

Obi-Wan observed him carefully, his brow furrowing just slightly. “Cody,” he began, his voice calm, but there was a noticeable edge of concern in it now, as if he had been waiting for this moment. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

Cody hesitated for a long moment, the words caught in his throat like an obstacle he couldn’t move past. Obi-Wan’s calm, steady presence was the only thing that kept him from completely unraveling, but it wasn’t enough. Not this time. He had to know. He needed to hear it, even if the answer might break him.

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the question settle into his chest. “What do I mean to you?” The words felt foreign on his tongue, too raw to be real. He wasn’t sure why he was asking—maybe because he couldn’t keep pretending anymore. Maybe because the truth had finally found its way to him and now it was impossible to ignore.

Obi-Wan looked up, his brow furrowing slightly, clearly taken aback. He studied Cody for a long moment, those quiet, thoughtful eyes searching him with a tenderness that made Cody’s heart race, but also left him feeling exposed. Obi-Wan opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, taking a slow, deliberate breath.

“You’re the person I trust the most,” Obi-Wan began, his voice careful, measured. “You’ve always been there when I needed you—when all of us needed you. Your loyalty, your strength, your unwavering commitment, it’s...everything.” He paused, his gaze softening. “You’re someone I can always rely on. You’ve stood by me in ways no one else ever has. You’re everything, Cody.”

The air between them felt thicker now, the weight of Obi-Wan’s words settling heavily in the silence. Cody stared at him, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. There was something in Obi-Wan’s voice—something deeper than respect, more profound than camaraderie. It was a flicker, a quiet understanding that had always been there between them, but now it was clearer, sharper than ever before.

Obi-Wan met Cody’s eyes, and for the first time, Cody could see that the Prince wasn’t just looking at him in the way he always had. There was a sparkle in Obi-Wan’s eyes—one that, in hindsight, had been there for quite some time.

It wasn’t the glint of mischief or amusement he’d always assumed. It was softer than that, deeper. Something unspoken but steady, like light filtering through leaves. It was quiet, certain, impossible to ignore once seen.

Cody didn’t break the gaze. He couldn’t. His heart was hammering in his chest, but he stayed still, waiting for the moment to unfold.

And then, as though the weight of their silence had finally reached its peak, something shifted. Cody’s breath caught in his throat, and suddenly, he knew. He knew what he had missed for so long.

The realization came slowly, like waking from a dream already in motion. His breath caught. The space between them felt impossibly charged, as though the air itself had stilled in anticipation. Every detail sharpened—the curve of Obi-Wan’s jaw, the way the light kissed his skin, the subtle tilt of his head.

And then Obi-Wan moved—not abruptly, not hesitantly, but as if the moment had always been leading to this. Cody didn’t move away.

The kiss was inevitable.

It was barely a brush of lips, like the hush before a storm. But even in that breath of contact, Cody felt everything. The weight of all the words they hadn’t said, the tension that had lived between glances and almost-touches for so long. Obi-Wan’s lips tasted like rain on warm stone, like something grounding and elemental, and somehow also like the rush before a fall. Sweet, familiar, and a little wild. They fit Cody’s like a secret finally spoken aloud—soft and searching, shaped just right, like they’d always been meant to find his.

The kiss was a question, a promise, a confession all wrapped in a single breath. Cody’s world tilted on its axis, his heart racing as everything he had felt, everything he had tried to ignore, collided all at once.

The shock of it nearly took Cody’s breath away. The sensation was so familiar, yet so new. It seemed to flood his senses, grounding him, pulling him closer. It was a kiss that held every word they had both left unspoken for so long, a kiss that made everything else fade into the background.

It wasn’t just the collision of lips, it was the collision of everything they had ever wanted but never dared to ask for. It was of quiet longing, of careful restraint, of the dance they had been doing around each other, never daring to admit the truth.

And now it was all laid bare between them.

Cody felt it—the weight of relief, of a longing finally fulfilled, of something deep within him sparking to life. Obi-Wan’s mouth on his was everything he had ever wanted and more. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise. A beginning.

They were inevitable.

Everything between them—every stolen glance, every quiet moment of understanding—had led to this. And when Obi-Wan’s mouth deepened the kiss, slow and searching, Cody didn’t pull away. Instead, he let it consume him. Let it wash over him, until there was no more questioning, no more uncertainty. Only Obi-Wan, and the warmth of that kiss that burned away everything else.

The realisation settled inside him with a quiet finality: they had both been waiting for this. And now that it had happened, there was no going back. Only forward.

The kiss ended as softly as it began, but it left something behind. A crackling warmth that spread through Cody’s chest, grounding him in a way he had never known before.

He knew now, beyond any doubt, that the battle between them—the one neither of them had fully understood—had finally been won.

~~~~~

Obi-Wan stood there, a slight dazed smile still gracing his lips as he pulled back from the kiss, his hand lingering on Cody’s arm, feeling the electricity of the moment still running through them both. It was a feeling like no other, something he had never quite anticipated, even in all his years of reflection, all those nights spent wondering whether Cody might ever feel what he felt. Now, standing there, breathless and shaken, he couldn’t help the giddy smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt truly at peace.

"I love you," Obi-Wan whispered, his voice low and full of wonder. He could feel Cody’s heartbeat against his chest, the intensity of the moment making the words feel like they were the only truth in the universe.

Cody’s eyes widened at the words, and for a moment, Obi-Wan thought he might not believe them, or perhaps thought it was too soon. But then, Cody’s lips curled into a smile—one that was so warm, so full of light, it threatened to consume Obi-Wan entirely.

"I love you too," Cody replied softly, his voice thick with emotion.

Before they could even let the moment linger, their lips were meeting again, but this time with the clarity of certainty. Obi-Wan’s hand found Cody’s jaw, tilting his face upward as he deepened the kiss. It wasn’t rushed this time, no, it was a slow, searching thing—one that seemed to ask for permission with every movement and gave just as much back. Obi-Wan could feel the warmth of Cody’s skin under his fingertips, could taste the sweetness of their connection with each soft press of their lips.

In that moment, Obi-Wan felt like he could drown in it. There was no more questioning, no more hesitance. They had found their truth, and it was now alive between them. The kiss was everything—an apology, a promise, a new beginning.

But just as the heat between them reached its peak, the unmistakable sound of a door creaking open shattered the tranquility.

Obi-Wan's heart sank immediately as the figure of King Palpatine filled the doorway, his cold eyes narrowing on the scene before him. Obi-Wan instinctively pulled back from Cody, standing quickly, his heart racing in his chest as Palpatine's furious gaze raked over the two of them.

"You!" Palpatine's voice was sharp, filled with a venomous fury that made the air seem to freeze. "What is the meaning of this? This is not acceptable, Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan stood between Cody and the king, immediately trying to shield him from the wrath he knew was coming. "Father, please," Obi-Wan said quickly, his voice full of desperate calm, “It’s not what you think—this is not Cody’s fault. It’s mine. I—”

Palpatine stepped forward, cutting him off with a furious gesture. "You’ll be the last to blame anyone but yourself!" he spat. "And as for you, Cody...I have no interest in your personal business. You are Obi-Wan’s personal knight, and you will do your duty, whether you like it or not. Now come with me. The throne room awaits."

Obi-Wan felt his chest tighten as he reached out, a futile attempt to stop Palpatine, his voice a quiet plea. “Please, Father. He’s done nothing wrong. Let him stay. You don’t understand, this—”

But Palpatine’s cold laugh echoed through the room. "You seem to think I care about your little distractions, Obi-Wan. He will be in the throne room. Now." The king's eyes turned to Cody with a cruel finality. "You are dismissed."

Obi-Wan’s heart pounded in his chest as he turned to Cody, his hand gripping the man’s arm. “Cody, please… I’ll find a way to make this right. Just trust me.”

Cody’s gaze was locked with Obi-Wan’s, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. His expression softened, and with a quiet smile, he nodded silently, his eyes holding the same determination that had always been there.

The moment stretched out, the tension thick in the air, but before Obi-Wan could say another word, Palpatine’s voice cut through. “Enough! Cody, now. You’ve been ordered.”

Reluctantly, Cody gave Obi-Wan one last lingering look, before he slowly turned and walked toward the door. Obi-Wan stood still, the weight of the moment sinking in. His heart was racing, frustration and helplessness churning inside him as he watched Cody leave the room.

But Palpatine wasn’t finished. “I suggest you focus on your duties, Obi-Wan,” he sneered, “and stop playing with feelings that are beneath you.”

Obi-Wan felt a sharp chill settle deep within him, a gnawing fear that had nothing to do with the king’s cruelty and everything to do with the unpredictable, ever-present danger that was now looming over them.

He stood there for a moment, frozen, staring at the door where Cody had just exited. His chest was tight, his mind racing. What will Palpatine do to him? That was the question that burned through his thoughts with terrifying clarity.

Will he punish him?

Obi-Wan's mind churned with a thousand worst-case scenarios, each one more unbearable than the last. The king had never been one to tolerate insubordination, much less the personal connections that Obi-Wan had so carefully avoided letting interfere with his duties—his duty to the crown, to the Sith. But now it seemed like his greatest fault was loving Cody.

Obi-Wan had always known the kind of man Palpatine was, always known the darkness beneath his regal exterior. But now, as he stood in the aftermath of that kiss, that moment of fragile hope, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel the cold, suffocating weight of what he had just exposed himself to.

What if Palpatine uses this against him? What if Cody becomes the target?

The king’s wrath was well-known, and the threat of being used as a pawn in some twisted political game was a constant undercurrent of their lives. But now...it was real. The moment had come, and Obi-Wan had no control over it.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his thoughts spinning. He could already see the king’s sly, calculating gaze, that twisted glint of power in his eyes, as if this was all some game to be played at his leisure. Palpatine had to know that Obi-Wan was already dangerously close to the edge of everything he had been keeping locked inside.

But the real terror was what Palpatine could do to Cody. He won’t just take him to the throne room...

Obi-Wan’s heart seized at the thought of what awaited Cody there—his mind racing back to the moments when Palpatine had used his power so ruthlessly, making an example of anyone who dared step out of line. Will he hurt him? Will he find a way to use him against me?

Obi-Wan had known what it meant to be a Prince, to be loyal to the Sith. But this...this was something deeper, something far more dangerous.

The king would make sure to twist this in his favor. He would see to it that Cody became a tool for manipulation, a weapon for his own twisted purposes.

I won’t let him...I can’t let him hurt Cody.

For the first time, Obi-Wan felt the weight of the decisions that had led him here, the weight of the tangled emotions that had finally surfaced. He had never been so afraid of what he might lose.

What if it's already too late?

His pulse quickened, the fear clawing at him now in full force. Obi-Wan knew that the only thing that could have been worse than loving Cody in this world was the prospect of losing him because of it. He took a step toward the door, his mind torn between action and helplessness.

The door creaked shut behind him, and Obi-Wan stood there, staring at the hallway, wondering just how far Palpatine would go to break them.

~~~~~

Cody’s heart was pounding as he stood in the cold, sterile expanse of the throne room. The echo of his footsteps felt oddly distant, swallowed up by the towering walls. His mind was still reeling from the events that had just transpired in Obi-Wan’s quarters, his thoughts a jumbled mess of emotion and fear. He had barely had time to gather himself before he found himself standing here, in front of the one person he feared most—King Palpatine.

The doors to the throne room closed behind him with a heavy thud, sealing him inside. He barely registered the sound as the king entered behind him, flanked by two guards. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Palpatine, his cold, calculating eyes never once leaving Cody. The king’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile, the same one he always wore when he intended to make someone pay.

“Leave us,” Palpatine commanded in a low, menacing voice to the two guarding knights stationed near the doors. They hesitated only briefly before bowing, quickly retreating from the room without a word.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Cody’s pulse quickened as he stood at attention, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He had heard rumors about the king’s punishments, heard the whispers about those who had displeased him. But this…this felt different. He could feel the danger in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Palpatine’s voice broke the silence, and it sent a chill through Cody’s entire body.

“You think you can act with impunity?” Palpatine’s voice was calm, but there was a cold fury underneath every word. “Do you understand what you’ve done, Sir Cody?”

Cody stood rigidly, his throat tight, but he forced himself to speak. “I—I didn’t mean to betray my duty, Your Majesty.”

Palpatine took a slow, deliberate step toward him, his eyes narrowing as if inspecting something beneath the surface. “Didn’t mean to?” he sneered, his voice rising. “You chose this. You chose to ignore your place—your duty—for him. Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he spat the name as though it were poison on his tongue.

Cody flinched at the mention of Obi-Wan, but he refused to look away. He knew that showing weakness would only embolden Palpatine’s cruelty. But inside, his fear was like a storm, the weight of his betrayal pressing down on him. He had always known his feelings for Obi-Wan could never be more than a secret, something buried deep inside. But he never imagined it would come to this.

Palpatine’s voice cut through his thoughts, harsh and sharp.

“You swore an oath, knight! You swore to keep your emotions in check, to keep them out of the way of your duty!” His eyes glinted with cruel amusement. “But it seems you’ve failed that oath, haven’t you?”

Cody’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, and for a brief moment, he thought he might lose control. The emotions swirling inside him—guilt, shame, anger—threatened to break free. But he swallowed hard, forcing himself to remain calm.

Palpatine’s lips twisted into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He took another step closer, his presence overwhelming.

“You’ve betrayed your duty, Cody,” he hissed. “And you’ve betrayed them. Your family, your brothers…I will make sure they feel the consequences of your weakness.”

Cody’s stomach dropped, his thoughts racing. He had always known Palpatine could be ruthless, but hearing it from him—hearing the threat aimed at the people he loved most—struck terror into the core of his being.

“I’ll make sure your father, Jango Fett, loses his position. I’ll see to it that your precious Rex is stripped of his role as Anakin’s personal knight,” Palpatine continued, his voice becoming more venomous with each word. “And I will ensure your entire family suffers for your lack of discipline. You’ll have no place to run, no place to hide.”

Cody’s breath caught in his throat. The thought of his family—his father and his brothers—paying the price for his own mistakes was unbearable. His mind raced, torn between loyalty to Obi-Wan and the fear of what Palpatine would do to his family.

He could feel the weight of the decision pressing on him, like a thousand tons on his chest. He wanted to fight back, to tell Palpatine that he didn’t care about his threats, that he would stand by Obi-Wan no matter the cost. But that would only bring more suffering to the people he cared about.

He had already made one mistake, and he couldn’t afford to make another. Not at the cost of everything he had worked for, not at the cost of his family’s safety.

Cody’s shoulders slumped as he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. When he opened them again, he looked Palpatine squarely in the eye, his resolve hardening despite the fear that still churned inside him.

“I…I will focus on my duty, Your Majesty,” Cody said quietly, his voice steady but laced with pain. “I will be Prince Obi-Wan’s knight, and nothing more.”

Palpatine’s gaze sharpened as he took in Cody’s words. For a long, drawn-out moment, there was silence. Then, the king nodded, a smug satisfaction crossing his features.

“Good,” he purred. “You’ll remember your place, then.” He took a step back, his cold eyes never leaving Cody. “You’re dismissed. Go back to your duties, Cody. And remember—failure has consequences. I expect no more... distractions.”

Cody nodded stiffly, trying to suppress the tremor in his hands as he turned and walked toward the door. His body felt as though it were moving on its own, mechanical, distant, the weight of the situation sinking in with each step he took.

As he exited the throne room, the doors closing behind him with a quiet finality, Cody's heart still pounded in his chest. His mind kept replaying Palpatine’s words, the terror of the threat still hanging in the air.

But now, more than ever, he understood the impossible choice he had made.

Obi-Wan and his family—two worlds he was forced to choose between.

And, through it all, Cody felt completely and utterly alone.

Chapter Text

The silence of the night pressed in around Obi-Wan as he sat in his quarters, the soft glow of the lamps casting long shadows across the room. He had been sitting there for what felt like hours, staring at the wall, the words from earlier that day echoing in his mind. The kiss. Cody’s soft smile. The promise in his eyes.

But now...now, it all felt like a dream, slipping through his fingers with each passing minute. He hadn't seen Cody since then. Not a word, not a glance. He had tried to be patient, to give Cody space, but his heart was heavy with confusion and worry.

He couldn’t stay still anymore.

With a quiet sigh, Obi-Wan stood, his robes rustling as he moved toward the door. He had to find Cody—he couldn’t stand not knowing what had happened, what Palpatine had done to him. If Cody was hurting, Obi-Wan needed to be there for him, no matter the cost.

The corridor was dim, the lamps flickering with an eerie, distant glow. Obi-Wan walked slowly, the silence broken only by the soft pad of his boots against the polished stone floor. He was about to turn the corner when he saw him.

Cody.

He was standing in the same position he had been in when he was first assigned as Obi-Wan’s personal knight. Rigid, alert, eyes scanning the hallway like a soldier on duty. The same soldier Obi-Wan had come to rely on, trust, and, though he hadn't allowed himself to admit it, love.

But something was different now. Cody was...distant. Cold. His posture stiff, his expression unreadable. Obi-Wan’s heart sank at the sight.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan said softly, stepping closer, his voice a little hesitant. "What’s going on? What happened with Palpatine? What did he do to you?"

Cody’s back straightened even further at the sound of Obi-Wan’s voice, his shoulders locking in that familiar, disciplined way. His gaze never met Obi-Wan’s, instead focused ahead, as if he were addressing a superior.

"Your Highness," Cody said, his voice cool, formal. Detached.

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed at the distance in his tone, at the way Cody had addressed him. It was like a wall had gone up between them, a barrier that Obi-Wan couldn’t see through.

Obi-Wan took a step forward, lowering his voice, trying to reach him. “Cody, you don’t have to be like this. Whatever happened, I can help. I just...I just want to know what happened. Please.”

Cody’s jaw tightened at his words, but he still didn’t look at him. Obi-Wan could feel the shift in the air, the tension between them, and it cut through him like a blade. He couldn't understand why Cody was pushing him away.

“Did Palpatine hurt you?” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked slightly, filled with the worry that had been gnawing at him ever since he had been left alone in that room.

Cody shook his head, still stiff and distant. “No, Your Highness.”

Obi-Wan’s heart ached. He studied Cody’s profile, the familiar set of his jaw, the way his hands were clasped behind his back as if he were still standing at attention. But there was something missing. Something that had always been there before.

“If Palpatine didn’t hurt you…why are you acting this way?” Obi-Wan’s voice was gentle, but his eyes held an undeniable urgency. “Cody, is Palpatine forcing you to do this? To—" He hesitated, his mind grasping for the words. "To push me away?”

Cody didn’t respond immediately. For a moment, it seemed as though the world itself had paused. Then, in the same detached, formal tone, he spoke. “No, he is not forcing me. I am just remembering my place.”

Obi-Wan’s chest tightened, a wave of confusion washing over him. Remembering his place? What did that mean? It felt like Cody had been replaced by someone else entirely. The soldier before him was not the Cody he had shared so many quiet, unspoken moments with—the Cody who had fought beside him, trusted him, smiled at him with a warmth that had felt like home.

“No,” Obi-Wan said, stepping closer still, his voice quiet but firm. “This isn’t you, Cody. We’ve been through too much, shared too many moments. What lies between us can’t just be dismissed like this.”

He reached out, hand hovering just a fraction of an inch from Cody’s arm. He wanted to touch him, to remind him of everything they had been, but Cody remained unmoving.

Obi-Wan’s heart pounded in his chest. His voice cracked. “Did what happened yesterday really mean nothing to you?”

Cody’s eyes flickered for the briefest of moments, but his expression remained impassive. “It was a lapse in judgment, Your Highness.” His words were cool, as though he had rehearsed them, as though he had to remind himself of what he had to say.

Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat, the finality of Cody’s words hitting him like a blow. His hand dropped to his side, feeling the sudden weight of the distance between them, the gulf that had appeared overnight, swallowing them whole.

“So that’s it, then?” Obi-Wan said, his voice quiet, tinged with disbelief. “I must have misunderstood. I thought we were past the point of pretending. I thought... I thought we were something.”

Cody’s face didn’t change, his eyes still fixed ahead, locked in some kind of soldier’s discipline that Obi-Wan couldn’t break through. “I swore to keep my feelings out of the way of my duty,” he said, the words clipped and final. “And that is what I’ll do.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Obi-Wan could barely breathe, the words hanging in the air like a cold, dead weight. His chest felt tight, constricted, as though his heart were trying to escape from his ribcage.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no words came. What was left to say?

The silence stretched on, unbearably long, before Cody spoke again, his voice softer now, almost weary. “Good night, Your Highness.”

And with that, Cody turned sharply, walking down the corridor, his footsteps echoing as they faded into the distance.

Obi-Wan stood there for a long time, staring after him, unable to move, unable to process. What had just happened? What had changed?

He felt as though the ground had slipped from beneath him, the path ahead uncertain, the future shrouded in darkness.

And in that moment, Obi-Wan realised that everything had changed.

~~~~~

The sound of the door to his quarters opening was quiet, almost imperceptible, but Anakin’s senses were sharp, attuned to the slightest shift in his surroundings. He’d been training, going over some tactical schematics in the dim light of his desk, when he felt it—an unsettling presence, one that didn’t quite match the usual calm of Obi-Wan’s visits. His pulse quickened slightly, his brow furrowing as he turned, sensing the storm that seemed to accompany Obi-Wan into the room.

Obi-Wan didn’t speak right away. He stood just inside the door, his figure outlined by the low, flickering light, and Anakin could see the subtle shake of his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes, the way his usual calm had shattered. Something was wrong.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, his voice laced with concern. He stood up, instinctively moving toward his brother. “What’s going on?”

Obi-Wan's gaze flicked to him, but he didn't answer immediately. His lips parted, then closed again, as if trying to find the right words. It was unlike him, the always-composed Prince, to appear so…broken. So vulnerable.

Finally, Obi-Wan sighed, a long, shaky breath, and in that moment, Anakin knew—he knew this wasn’t about strategy or diplomacy. This was something deeper.

“I...” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked, and he wiped a hand over his face, as though trying to steady himself. “I don’t know how to explain this, Anakin.”

Anakin stepped closer, gently placing a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his usual teasing tone gone. “Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me. What’s happening?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes met his, and for the first time, Anakin saw the rawness of what he was feeling. The walls Obi-Wan had so carefully built over the years seemed to collapse in that one fleeting look. Obi-Wan looked lost.

“I… I love Cody,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice barely audible. The confession hung between them like a confession of guilt, but Anakin, in all his years of knowing his brother, could see the truth in his eyes. The truth he’d been blind to all along.

Anakin blinked, taken aback. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all. He had seen the way Obi-Wan and Cody interacted—there had always been something more beneath the surface, a connection that was never fully acknowledged, but never entirely hidden either. But hearing it from Obi-Wan’s mouth, hearing the pain behind the words…it made what should be a celebration sound much more somber.

Obi-Wan’s face clouded with emotion, but he didn’t pull away from Anakin’s touch. “We kissed. Finally…finally, I thought... but Palpatine interrupted us.” He choked on the words, the pain evident in his eyes. “Since then, Cody has been distant. More distant than ever. It’s like he’s...someone else.”

Anakin’s mind raced as he processed the weight of what Obi-Wan was saying. It was hard to understand—hard to grasp how something so pure could be so suddenly shattered by Palpatine’s interference. He watched as Obi-Wan tried to steady himself, the deep hurt in his eyes still raw.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin began slowly, his brow furrowed. “This… this doesn’t make sense. Cody’s always been so... open with you. Even if he tried to keep his distance, he still trusted you. This—his behaviour—it has to be forced.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze softened as Anakin spoke, but there was no relief in his eyes. No answer to the questions that hung between them.

“I think you’re right,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “It does feel like he’s being forced to act this way. But if Palpatine’s behind it... if he’s manipulating him somehow… it hurts, Anakin. It hurts to see him like this.”

Anakin’s mind spun, the pieces falling into place, but the puzzle still felt incomplete. Palpatine—that name. That cold, calculating monster. Anakin had his suspicions about the king, about the way he controlled everything and everyone around him. But for Obi-Wan… for Cody… this was different. They weren’t just soldiers, they weren’t just pawns in Palpatine’s game. This was personal.

Anakin’s hand tightened on Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he looked his brother in the eye, his voice firm and filled with unshakable conviction.

“Obi-Wan,” he said, “this isn’t your fault. None of this is what you wanted. And whatever Palpatine is doing to Cody, he’s messing with the wrong people. We’ll figure this out. You can’t just let him tear you apart like this. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, Anakin thought he might collapse under the weight of his own emotions. But then he straightened, shaking his head.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Anakin,” Obi-Wan admitted, his voice shaky. “All this time, I thought I was protecting him, protecting us. But now… it feels like everything’s unraveling. And I can’t even reach him.”

Anakin felt a pang of sympathy for his brother, but there was something else there too. Something deeper, a feeling of helplessness mixed with his own frustration. Palpatine’s influence had spread so far, and for once, Anakin wasn’t sure what the answer was. He could feel the sharp edge of betrayal too, not just for Obi-Wan, but for Cody as well.

“So what now?” Anakin asked, his voice softening. “What happens next?”

Obi-Wan looked at him, his expression clouded with indecision. “I don’t know. I just...I don’t want to lose him, Anakin. I don’t want to lose Cody.”

Anakin nodded slowly, a mixture of pity and confusion washing over him. He wanted to comfort his brother further, to say something that would make everything better, but the truth was, he wasn’t sure how to fix this. The situation felt beyond their control, like they were caught in a storm they couldn’t escape.

“Maybe...maybe it’s not about fixing it all at once,” Anakin said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s just about showing Cody you’re still there for him. You can’t undo what Palpatine’s done, but you can make sure he knows he’s not alone. Maybe that’s what he needs right now.”

Obi-Wan sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “I wish I knew how.”

Anakin paused, stepping closer and resting a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his voice low and serious. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll help you. We’ll help him. Together.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze softened, just a fraction, and for a moment, Anakin saw the flicker of hope in his brother’s eyes. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to believe that maybe they could find a way to fix this, despite the looming darkness of Palpatine’s influence.

For now, that was all they had.

And Anakin was determined to make sure it was enough.

~~~~~

The cool, sterile air of the palace hallway wrapped around him like a cloak, though it didn’t offer the comfort it once had. The familiar stone walls, the routine of standing guard—all of it felt like a prison now. He had become so accustomed to this role that it was second nature: stand still, watch, guard, wait. But today, everything felt sharper. Every breath, every movement, felt strained.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened—the point when he’d crossed a line, or maybe when the line had moved, forcing him to make a choice. All he knew now was that he couldn’t go back. Not after everything that had happened.

He could still taste the kiss on his lips, still feel the warmth of Obi-Wan’s touch. But the memory was distant, like something he could almost reach, yet would always be out of grasp.

Cody, you have to do this.

The words echoed in his mind, the instructions that had been drilled into him. His duty came first, and that was what Palpatine had made clear. The price for defying that order…well, it was too high. Too costly for those he loved. For his family.

“Cody.”

The voice pulled him out of his thoughts, sharp and demanding. He turned to find Anakin standing there, his brows furrowed in concern. The younger Skywalker always had a way of seeing through his armor, cutting straight to what lay beneath.

Anakin’s gaze softened as he took in Cody’s stiff posture, the distance in his stance, the coldness that had seeped into him over the past days.

“What’s going on?” Anakin asked, stepping closer. “Why are you acting like this? What did Palpatine say to you to make you behave this way?”

Cody stood at attention, instinctively straightening his back, even though Anakin's presence should have made him feel at ease. But it didn’t. It couldn’t.

“I’m just...remembering my place,” Cody replied, his voice low, stiff. "Fulfilling my duty."

Cody’s inner turmoil began gnawing at him. The lie came easily, but it didn’t stop the guilt from squeezing his chest. It didn’t stop him from remembering how badly it hurt to turn away from Obi-Wan. The kiss—what he had shared with Obi-Wan—was still there, raw and unspoken. It had felt like freedom. But now it was a weight he couldn’t carry.

Anakin didn’t buy it, not for a second. His eyes narrowed, studying Cody with that sharp, knowing gaze.

“You’re not fooling me, Cody,” Anakin said, his voice a little more forceful. “This isn’t you. This isn’t the Cody I know. What’s really going on?”

Cody bit back the urge to flinch. It’s too dangerous to say anything. I can’t…I can’t explain it to him.

"Remembering my place," Cody repeated, hoping the repetition would make it sound more like the truth. It wasn’t, but he had to say it, because the alternative—the truth—would be too much. Too risky.

Anakin didn’t relent, stepping closer, his voice quiet but insistent. “Cody, is Palpatine threatening you? Is he blackmailing you or doing something to make you act like this?”

Cody’s stomach twisted at the suggestion, but he quickly quashed the feeling. Maybe he could use this. He may be trapped, bound by his oath to Palpatine, but he may be able to hint the truth. He may be able to get Anakin to realise what’s going on without telling him directly.

“No, Your Highness,” Cody replied, forcing the words out. “Palpatine is doing no harm to me.”

His breath hitched as he waited. Please catch on.

Anakin seemed to sense the conflict, his brows knitting together in thought. After a moment, he asked, “Is it...someone else? Is Palpatine threatening someone you care about?” His voice was quieter, less demanding but no less desperate for the truth.

“I—” Cody began, but his voice faltered. Then, suddenly, he thought of a way to confirm this. “Where’s Rex?”

Anakin blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in the conversation. “Rex? He’s with me—always with me. What do you—”

“I haven’t seen him,” Cody said quietly, his voice breaking just slightly. “Not since we returned from Coruscant. Is he alright?”

Anakin tilted his head, sensing there was more Cody wasn’t saying. There was something else, something deeper. “Rex is on break, he’s in the courtyard. Are you always so worried about him?”

“I’m the eldest brother”, Cody says. “All I do is worry about my family.”

Anakin’s eyes widened slightly, understanding dawning on his face. He quickly covered it up with a gaze of curiosity. “When’s the last you saw your family, Cody?”

Cody didn't answer right away. His thoughts turned inward, racing as the truth began to twist in his chest. His family was far away. Far from all of this. He hadn’t seen them in nearly two years, hadn’t even been able to check in on them. And it ate at him, gnawed at him in a way that Palpatine’s threats never could.

“It’s been awhile,” Cody finally whispered, his voice hollow. “I haven’t seen them in almost two years...all I want is to know they’re safe.”

Anakin’s eyes softened with understanding. “I get it,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I understand more than you know, Cody. And if you need anything, if you need to know your family is safe—I can help with that. I’ll find a way, I promise.”

Cody’s posture softened for the briefest of moments, a flicker of relief breaking through his otherwise stoic demeanor. But it was fleeting. The weight of his duty still pressed heavily on him, and his fear of what Palpatine might do if he failed to follow through with his orders hung over him like a dark cloud.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Cody said, his voice flat as he bowed his head slightly, the familiar formality slipping back into place. His eyes were distant once again, locked away behind the armor of a soldier. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

Anakin studied him for a moment, sensing that whatever they had talked about, whatever truths had been shared, wasn’t enough to truly break through. But it was something. A crack in the wall. And maybe—just maybe—it would be enough.

“Take care of yourself, Cody,” Anakin said softly. “And if you need anything...don’t hesitate to come to me.”

With one last lingering glance, Anakin turned and left, the soft echo of his footsteps fading into the distance.

Cody stood still, the weight of the conversation pressing on him as he turned his gaze back to the empty corridor. The silence felt louder now, the space between him and everything else growing ever wider.

I’ll keep them safe, he thought, his fists tightening at his sides. I’ll keep them all safe. Even if it means losing myself in the process.

Chapter Text

The sun had long since dipped behind the tall stone towers of the palace, casting the courtyard into shadow. A few muted lanterns flickered beneath the archways, their light dancing softly over the cobblestones. It was quiet here—peaceful, even. A place where Rex often went to breathe, to escape the chaos of duty.

But tonight, he wasn't alone for long.

“Rex.”

The voice made him straighten immediately. He turned to see Anakin striding toward him, his cape trailing behind him, the sharp edge of urgency in his expression.

Rex rose from the bench, frowning. “What happened?”

“It’s Cody,” Anakin said. “We need to talk.”

Rex’s expression darkened. “I’ve been trying to talk to him. But he’s shut me out. No holocalls, no letters, nothing. I thought maybe it was just mission stress or...something between him and Obi-Wan. But now I think it’s more than that.”

Anakin nodded grimly. “It is. I spoke to him. And Obi-Wan.”

Rex stiffened. “Is he hurt?”

Anakin shook his head. “Not physically. But he’s not himself. Cody’s…cold. Detached. And Obi-Wan is falling apart. I think Palpatine is threatening Cody—specifically, threatening you and your family.”

Rex went still. “What?”

“I don’t think Cody’s silence is by choice. He asked me about you—out of nowhere. He said he hasn’t seen you since Coruscant. He didn’t even know where you were. He was trying to ask for help without saying it outright. I think Palpatine’s made it so Cody can’t speak freely.”

Rex’s face hardened, his voice low and tight. “That bastard.”

“He’s using Cody’s loyalty against him,” Anakin continued. “If Cody disobeys, Palpatine hurts you. Or your brothers. And if he talks, maybe worse. That’s why Cody's pushing Obi-Wan away. He thinks it’s the only way to protect everyone.”

Rex’s throat worked around a bitter sound. “It makes sense. The way Obi-Wan’s been acting lately, like he’s grieving. That wasn’t heartbreak. That was being cut out without a reason.”

Anakin looked at him, grim determination lighting his eyes. “I think it’s time we start planning to do something about it.”

Rex raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”

“Expose Palpatine. Everything. The war, his manipulation of the Senate, the lies about the Jedi. All of it.”

Rex crossed his arms. “That’s a tall order.”

“But not impossible,” Anakin said. “Especially if we start where it hurts him most: Obi-Wan.”

Rex blinked. “I thought you said Cody was being targeted.”

“He is. But think about it, Rex. Obi-Wan is the son of Qui-Gon Jinn. Taken from the Jedi as a child, raised by Palpatine in secret, and installed as a royal figurehead to give the crown moral legitimacy.”

Rex’s jaw dropped slightly. “You’re suggesting revealing Obi-Wan’s true identity?”

Anakin nodded. “The Jedi never gave him up. He was kidnapped. If the people find out Obi-Wan is Ben, then Palpatine would be forced to give him up. If we can prove who Obi-Wan really is—Ben Jinn, rightful heir to the Jinn lineage and a Jedi child—Palpatine’s whole narrative starts to fall apart. And maybe, just maybe, we can get Cody back before this breaks him completely.”

Rex ran a hand through his hair, the weight of what Anakin was saying crashing down on him like a wave. “And how the hell are we going to do that?”

“We start small,” Anakin said. “Get access to the palace records. Medical files, birth records. Anything that ties Obi-Wan to the Jinns. We bring in Bail Organa—he’s been suspicious of Palpatine for months. And Padmé. They’ll help us make a case in the Senate. Quietly, at first.”

“And Cody?”

Anakin’s voice dropped. “We find a way to let him know we’re working on it. That we’re going to protect his family, the way he’s trying to protect us. That he doesn’t have to suffer in silence.”

Rex looked down at his hands. “He’s been carrying this alone for so long.”

Anakin nodded. “Not anymore.”

There was a long moment of silence between them, filled only by the distant rustle of wind in the palace trees.

Finally, Rex looked up, fire in his eyes. “Alright. I’m in. Let’s bring Palpatine down.”

Anakin offered him a hand. “Together.”

Rex took it, and for the first time in what felt like years, he felt hope.

Small. Fragile.

But real.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

~~~~~

Obi-Wan sat in his private chamber, a worn leather-bound journal resting open but untouched in his lap. The fire had burned low in the hearth, casting a dim, flickering glow across the room, but Obi-Wan hadn’t moved to rekindle it. He simply sat, gaze distant, shoulders hunched beneath his robes as if bearing a weight that would not lift.

He had barely registered the knock at the door before it opened and Anakin stepped in, Rex close behind. The quiet between the three of them held an edge of anticipation. Obi-Wan stood slowly.

“Anakin. Rex.” His voice was measured, careful. “I assume this isn’t a social call.”

“It’s not,” Rex said. He glanced at Anakin before continuing. “We need to talk. About Cody. About everything.”

Obi-Wan’s spine stiffened, but he said nothing, simply nodded and gestured them in.

Once the door was shut and sealed behind them, Anakin stepped forward. “We know why he pushed you away,” he said softly.

Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched.

“We know Palpatine is threatening him,” Rex added, voice low and taut. “And he’s using me—and the others—as leverage.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked between them, then dropped to the floor. “I suspected,” he admitted. “But I had no proof. And Cody…he wouldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t even meet my eyes.”

“He’s trying to protect you. All of us,” Anakin said. “But we’ve decided he doesn’t have to do it alone.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “What are you planning?”

Anakin met his gaze directly. “We’re going to expose Palpatine. Everything. The manipulation, the lies, the war. And we’re going to start with the one truth he’s buried deeper than any other.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “I suppose that’s me.”

Anakin glanced at Rex, then back. “It is. The secret of Ben is the lynchpin holding up his whole illusion of control.”

Obi-Wan stared at them, the firelight flickering in his blue eyes. “You realize what you're suggesting? If you expose me, you draw the Kingdom’s fury down on everyone I care about. You’d be putting yourselves—”

“We don’t care,” Rex said quietly. “We won’t back down.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “What’s the plan?”

“We contact Bail and Padmé”, Anakin said. “They are already suspicious of Palpatine, they’ll be willing to help.”

”I can contact Bail easily”, Obi-Wan said. “Quietly. I’ve been communicating him for a while now, no one will question it.”

Anakin crossed his arms, then hesitated—visibly so. Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed.

“And Padmé?” Obi-Wan asked, a sly glint appearing. “Since when have you been talking to Padme?”

Anakin cheeks turned into a light shade of pink. “I just ask her for political advice, from time to time.”

Obi-Wan smiled faintly, the first hint of genuine warmth on his face in weeks. “Come on now. You’re flushed.”

Anakin sputtered. “We’ve…we’ve been talking for a couple of months. That’s all. Nothing suspicious. Just political conversations.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said lightly, though the amusement in his voice was unmistakable. “Just politics. I’m sure her delegation finds your input invaluable.”

Anakin rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. Rex smirked, arms crossed. Obi-Wan supposed Rex knew a lot more than Anakin was letting on.

Obi-Wan shook his head, brushing a hand through his hair. “Well, if Padmé’s already in the loop, that gives us two points of contact. We’ll need to write the messages carefully. Too direct and Palpatine’s intelligence network will intercept them. Too vague and they won’t know what we’re asking.”

“We’ll draft it together,” Anakin said. “Something that can be read two ways. Official business on the surface, real meaning hidden underneath. Bail and Padmé are both sharp—they’ll know how to read between the lines.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Agreed. I’ll send the letter to Bail tonight. Anakin, you handle Padmé—however you usually do,” he added, tone just shy of playful.

Anakin gave him a warning look, but Obi-Wan waved it off, already stepping toward his desk.

“Once we hear back,” Rex said, “we move fast. We get the evidence. We get Cody out.”

Obi-Wan paused. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet. “If we can’t…?”

Anakin moved closer. “We will. But if we can’t—we make damn sure Cody knows we’re trying.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly, gathering himself.

Then he picked up his quill.

And started writing.

Chapter Text

Senator Organa,

I hope this message finds you well. I am writing regarding an archival matter that has come to my attention during recent historical reviews of royal lineages and early Republic records.

Specifically, there is a discrepancy in the official registry concerning the lineage of certain noble families connected to the late Master Qui-Gon Jinn. As you are one of the few Senators with both access to private archives and a personal interest in historical accuracy, I was hoping you might assist me in locating any surviving documents pertaining to Ben Jinn, the registered son of Qui-Gon.

The Palace Archives here are incomplete. I believe some records may have been deliberately altered or obscured. Given your well-documented commitment to preserving truth and transparency, I know you understand the importance of verifying this data accurately and discreetly.

Timing is sensitive. There is growing concern that if this issue is not quietly addressed, it could lead to public misunderstandings—or worse, manipulation of historical fact.

I trust your judgment and discretion implicitly. Please confirm receipt of this request at your earliest convenience. Should you wish to discuss further, I will be available during the next diplomatic summit transmission window.

With respect,

Prince Obi-Wan Kenobi

~~~~~

Prince Kenobi,

Your inquiry regarding the Jinn lineage was received and reviewed with the utmost care. I commend your dedication to preserving the integrity of the archives, especially in these turbulent times, when fact and fiction are often treated interchangeably.

Upon searching my repositories, I found several curious omissions in the Jinn family record. More telling, however, are the sudden gaps surrounding the registered existence of a certain child during the first few hours of his birth. No death certificate. No adoption records. No relocation permits. Nothing official at all.

I believe the absence itself speaks volumes.

In light of this, I have begun coordinating with other archivists. I suspect cross-referencing multiple planetary data streams may reveal more than looking at any single thread in isolation.

I am, of course, happy to assist you further. If there are additional materials or connections you believe I should prioritize, do not hesitate to clarify—perhaps at the upcoming educational symposium next cycle. A small, private gathering is being organized. I believe you'd find the other attendees well informed.

Stay safe, Your Highness. And stay watchful.

With warm regards,

Senator Bail Organa

~~~~~

Padmé,

I know things have been tense lately.

I’ve been revisiting a conversation we had on the veranda, the one where you mentioned that some truths are buried because people are afraid of what they’ll do once they’re free. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now.

I’ve come across something important. Something that could change everything. I can’t say much here—not directly—but you’ve always been good at seeing the bigger picture. If I told you someone close to the throne isn’t who they’ve been told they are, would you believe me?

It’s not about politics. It’s about someone who never had a choice.

I need to know if you’re still willing to take risks for what’s right. Because the window’s closing. Fast. There’s going to be a meeting soon—quiet, unofficial. Bail’s arranging it. I want you there. I trust you more than anyone to help navigate this.

If you respond, don’t send it through Palpatine’s security detail. Find Sir Rex or Sir Cody and give it to them. They’ll make sure I receive it.

I’ll be waiting,

Anakin

~~~~~

Anakin,

I was surprised to receive your message through Sabé—it brought back memories of quieter times, when we passed letters back in forth in secrecy.

I understand now that some of the hopes we had were premature. But not misguided.

If what you're suggesting is true—about someone close to the throne—then we owe it to the people, and to ourselves, to make it right. I’ve suspected for some time that we’ve only been allowed to see part of the story.

I’m still willing to take risks for what’s right. That hasn’t changed.

I’ll attend the gathering Bail mentioned. Quietly. I’ve already made arrangements to be unavailable for committee hearings during that cycle. I’ll bring what I can—names, support, leverage. If we’re doing this, we do it cleanly. Carefully.

And Anakin, thank you for trusting me with this.

Stay close to the shadows until we’re ready to step into the light.

Love,

Padmé

Chapter Text

The stone corridors of the castle felt colder than usual.

Cody walked them in silence, his steps measured, deliberate, too calm for someone under constant surveillance. The guards in black armor followed at a discreet distance. Always two. Never less. They never spoke to him. Never met his eyes.

That was how Palpatine preferred it. Isolation, silence, compliance.

He could feel the weight of the King’s gaze even when he wasn’t in the throne room—like a wire wrapped tight around his neck, pulling tighter every time he thought about reaching out. Every time he let his thoughts linger on Rex, or Obi-Wan, or the squad he hadn’t seen in weeks.

Even thinking about them felt dangerous.

He didn’t expect Anakin to find him in the greenhouse. That, of all places.

It was a quiet, overgrown corner of the palace—the only spot where security was lighter. Palpatine didn’t care for the scent of soil. Cody had come to appreciate it. It reminded him of home, the rain hissing quietly down windows.

It always rained at home.

When the door slid open behind him, he straightened, ready for a summons.

But it was Anakin. Alone.

Cody didn’t move. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Anakin gave him a crooked half-smile. “Probably not.”

“Say what you came to say,” Cody said, voice low.

Anakin stepped forward and spoke just above a whisper. “We know, Cody.”

Cody’s hands clenched at his sides. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Anakin didn’t press. He just met Cody’s eyes—really looked at him—and Cody saw something that wasn’t pity or suspicion.

He saw understanding.

Anakin continued, “We’ve started moving. Quietly. Carefully. Rex knows. Obi-Wan knows. Bail and Padmé are already helping.”

Cody didn’t breathe.

“I can’t tell you everything. Not yet,” Anakin said, voice steady. “But you’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to keep pretending you don’t care. You don’t have to keep pushing people away.”

Cody shook his head once, sharply. “If Palpatine finds out—”

“He won’t,” Anakin cut in. “You don’t have to do anything yet. Just hold on. We’re getting the proof. We’re going to expose him. And when we do…” He paused, letting the silence carry the weight. “You’ll be free.”

The word hit Cody harder than he expected.

Free.

He hadn’t let himself even consider that in… what? Months? A year?

“What about Rex?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Safe. Angry. Determined. He knows what you’ve been doing—why you’ve stayed silent.”

Cody turned away, jaw tight, emotion pulling like a faultline behind his ribs. “He shouldn’t have had to.”

“Neither should you.”

The silence between them stretched. Outside the greenhouse, the wind stirred against the glass.

Cody finally nodded, just once.

Anakin exhaled. “You’ll know when it’s time. Until then, stay the good soldier.”

Cody gave a bitter smile. “That’s what I’m best at.”

Anakin started to turn, then hesitated. “He misses you, you know.”

Cody didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

~~~~~

The room was small, windowless, and shielded six layers deep beneath a false records hall in the lower levels of the Senate District.

No official records marked it. No guards. Only those with the exact route and the exact clearance would find the sliding door at all. It had once been an emergency operations hub—abandoned and buried under repurposed administrative wings.

Bail Organa had kept the room accessible.

Now, five people stood inside the circular chamber—five people bound by trust, fear, and a dangerous kind of hope.

Obi-Wan stood at the edge of the room, one hand resting on the back of a worn durasteel chair. He hadn’t spoken yet. He was still watching.

Padmé Amidala arrived dressed like a diplomat, but carried herself like a soldier. Her hair was braided up tightly, her eyes sharp, her posture rigid with resolve. She had brought a file full of encrypted records—and likely, a knife hidden somewhere beneath her robes.

Anakin stood close to her. Too close, Obi-Wan noted with a quiet smirk. But now wasn’t the time for teasing.

Rex was armored, but had removed his helmet, his face marked by the tension of holding too much in. He stood with his arms crossed, jaw tight, every line in his body ready for a fight.

And Bail Organa, ever the master of balance and diplomacy, stood between them all—anchoring the gravity of the room with a calm, level voice.

He was the first to speak.

“I’ve reviewed everything you sent, Obi-Wan. Cross-referenced it with Padmé’s Senate reports and my own intelligence contacts. It’s enough to draw a straight line—Palpatine erased records connected to a child named Ben Jinn, a child who matches your age, your medical profile, and who disappeared the same year you were ‘found’ by the Palace.”

Obi-Wan inclined his head slightly. “He made sure the Jedi would never search for me. He made sure the world believed Qui-Gon Jinn had no heir.”

“Until now,” Bail said.

Padmé stepped forward, her voice firm. “The Senate won’t accept this on testimony alone. We need verifiable proof. Genetic matches. Medical files. And a motive. They’ll want to know why Palpatine would do something like this.”

“Power,” Rex said simply. “Obi-Wan’s presence gave the throne moral legitimacy. A fake crown, supported by a stolen Jedi.”

Anakin nodded. “And if we prove that—prove that Obi-Wan was taken, not chosen—then the whole foundation of Palpatine’s rule cracks open.”

Padmé added, “We also need to show the pattern. He didn’t stop with Obi-Wan. He manipulated the war. He silenced opposition, and now uses knights like Cody as pawns to keep the rest of us quiet.”

Obi-Wan finally spoke, his voice quieter than the rest. “He used my life to sell a lie. I won’t let him use Cody’s to keep it intact.”

Bail looked between them. “We need a three-pronged plan. First, get the medical records from the Palace vault—Rex, that’ll fall to you and Anakin. You’ll need to break into the royal archives. Obi-Wan’s birth record might be there, scrubbed and encrypted.”

Rex nodded. “I know the rotation schedule. I can get us in.”

“Second,” Bail continued, “Padmé and I will start the political maneuvering. Quietly. Gathering sympathetic senators—Mon Mothma, maybe Taa. We’ll prepare the ground for a revelation. If we don’t have political cover when this hits, we’ll all be arrested for treason.”

“Or worse,” Padmé murmured.

“And third,” Bail concluded, “we reach out to the Jedi.”

The room stilled.

Anakin’s mouth twitched. “That’s…risky.”

“I know,” Bail said. “But if the Jedi finds out one of their own was stolen by the man who now rules the Republic, they might be persuaded to act. Or at the very least, withdraw their neutrality.”

“Qui-Gon already knows”, Obi-Wan said. “He was the one who told me while I was in Coruscant. I can contact him, but I don’t know how we’d be able to get away with sending a letter to Coruscant.”

“We can work something out”, Padmé said. “And the fact that Qui-Gon already knows is helpful, we won’t have trouble convincing the Jedi.”

Obi-Wan looked at the group—at the small circle of rebels, conspirators, patriots—and felt something flicker in his chest.

Not quite hope. But something close.

Resolve.

“We’ll move at night,” he said. “The medical wing will be least guarded during third shift. Give us a week to gather the intel.”

Padmé nodded. “I’ll get names. Bail and I will build the coalition quietly. Just say the word when you’re ready to make it public.”

“And what about Cody?” Rex asked.

Everyone turned to him.

Obi-Wan answered softly. “We’ll get him out. But not until we can protect him. He wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Rex looked down, then nodded.

Anakin raised his chin, his voice steady. “Then we move. Quietly. Precisely. And when the time comes—”

“We bring the whole thing crashing down,” Padmé finished.

No one smiled.

But no one doubted.

Not anymore.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan stared out the window, his gaze distant as he watched other knights spar in the verdant fields below. A phantom ache settled in his chest, a poignant echo of a time when he and Cody had moved with such effortless synchronicity in those very same fields. Back then, life had been deceptively simple, uncomplicated by the agonizing truths that now lay bare between them. They had been gloriously oblivious, shielded from the devastating chasm that would eventually open.

Now, everything felt irrevocably fractured, like shards of broken glass scattered and beyond repair. Some essential pieces, he felt certain, had been stolen, snatched away, and he doubted he could ever reclaim them.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin's voice was a soft balm, yet Obi-Wan couldn't miss the subtle pity that laced its edges.

"I know," Obi-Wan murmured, turning from the window. He expertly schooled his features into the vacant expression he'd worn countless times before, a shield against the turmoil within. "I need to think of a plan to contact Qui-Gon. Don't worry, I'm working on it."

"Forget the plan," Anakin said, his voice closer now. A warm, grounding hand settled on Obi-Wan's shoulder, a silent anchor. "Cody will be okay, Obi-Wan. He's safe right now, and it will stay that way."

The mere mention of Cody's name sent a fresh wave of grief surging through him, and Obi-Wan fought desperately against the tears that threatened to betray him. "But what happens if Palpatine notices what's going on? We won't be around for him to punish us. Who do you think will get the brunt of his anger?" The fear, sharp and cold, was a constant companion.

Anakin sighed, and then, with a gentle strength, he pulled Obi-Wan into a hug. Obi-Wan buried his face into his brother's shoulder, a haven of comfort in his fractured world, accepting the solace offered without reservation.

"I can't promise anything, Obi-Wan, but I do know this." Anakin pulled back, his hands still on Obi-Wan's shoulders, his gaze direct and unwavering. "We will do anything to make sure we don't get caught. Maybe we can think of a way to keep Cody as safe as possible, but even then, we can't guarantee anything other than the fact that we hold the power. We are the ones who know the truth; we have the upper hand."

"Palpatine is king, Anakin," Obi-Wan countered, the words tasting like ash. "You can't get any higher than that." The weight of Palpatine's power felt insurmountable.

"A crown built on lies means nothing when met with the truth," Anakin said, his voice resonating with conviction. "We have that, Obi-Wan. You are that. You are the key to destroying Palpatine. You are the reason we will succeed."

"You hold too much faith in me," Obi-Wan whispered, looking away, unable to meet Anakin's intense gaze. The self-doubt, a constant shadow, threatened to consume him. "I'm broken, Anakin. I'm not a Sith, but I'm not a Jedi either. I don't belong anywhere, not really." The feeling of being adrift, of existing in a liminal space, was profoundly isolating.

"Don't say that," Anakin's voice was sharp, a surprising reprimand. "Don't disregard everything we've built. We've talked about this before, Obi-Wan, and I will keep saying it until it breaks through your thick skull. You are loved, in more ways than you can imagine. You belong by my side, as my brother. You belong with Cody, even if he seems impossible to reach right now. If you choose to follow your bloodline, then you sure as hell belong on the Jedi throne as well. You may seem lost right now, but I see the end of the maze. You will make it out, Obi-Wan, and you'll be all the better for it."

Obi-Wan made a sound that was a strange, raw mix between a sob and a laugh. "When did you get so wise?" A genuine smile, fragile but real, touched his lips.

Anakin grinned, pulling Obi-Wan into another hug, the familiar warmth a comforting presence. "You had to teach someone your shitty wizard knowledge."

"Wizard?" Obi-Wan chuckled, a small, genuine laugh escaping his chest. The lightness, however fleeting, was a welcome reprieve.

"Some of the stuff you say definitely isn't human," Anakin mused, pulling back slightly. "It's either wizards or demons, and you don't strike me as the type to assort yourself with the latter."

Obi-Wan smiled, pulling out of the hug completely, a touch of his usual dry wit returning. "Thank you, Anakin. Really." The gratitude was profound, a deep well of appreciation for his brother's unwavering support.

"Of course," Anakin said, his grin widening. "And we can pretend half of the stuff I said wasn't reused; that was all me."

"Oh, no, some of that belonged to me first," Obi-Wan retorted, a playful glint in his eyes. "But I can let you get away with stealing it."

Anakin looked skeptical, a brow raised. "What's the catch?"

Obi-Wan's smile broadened mischievously. "Tell me about this business with Padmé."

Anakin's face instantly flushed a vivid red, and he spun away, his body language radiating discomfort. "Absolutely not happening. Nothing is happening, I mean. There's nothing there! We're just friends, that's all."

With that, Anakin bolted, his long strides carrying him down the hall.

"I told you about Cody, I think I deserve to hear the truth!" Obi-Wan yelled, a grin stretching across his face as he gave chase. "Anakin!"

Obi-Wan spotted Rex further down the hall before Anakin did. Their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them, a shared nod of complicity.

Rex, ever the loyal and quick-witted ally, stepped directly in front of Anakin, effectively halting his escape. "I think you should know at this age that running indoors can be quite dangerous, Your Highness."

"Rex, move!" Anakin commanded, though there was no real bite in his voice. Rex, unyielding, held him firmly in place.

"I think this kind of behavior calls for a punishment," Obi-Wan said, placing his hands on Anakin's shoulders, a theatrical air about him. "Don't you agree, Rex?"

"Definitely," Rex said, a smirk playing on his lips.

"What do you say, a month with no contacting Padmé?" Obi-Wan suggested, thoroughly enjoying Anakin's escalating panic.

"Obi-Wan—" Anakin's protest was cut short.

"A month is too low," Rex interjected, shaking his head. "Anakin is an adult. He should know better. I say three."

"THREE—" Anakin's voice rose in an incredulous squawk.

"Three months seems fair," Obi-Wan said, a mock-serious expression on his face. "It's settled, then. No contacting Padmé for three months."

Anakin broke free of Rex's hold, pulling away from them both, his expression a mixture of outrage and exasperation. "I hate you both."

"I think that calls for another month," Obi-Wan stage-whispered to Rex, the words dripping with feigned concern.

"Definitely," Rex agreed, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"Oh, look at the time," Anakin said abruptly, his voice a little too loud, as he gestured vaguely towards a non-existent clock. "The sun's already setting. We should really get to going over the details of the plan."

"Alright," Obi-Wan said, letting out a dramatic sigh, though a genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I supposewe can postpone the punishment until after the plan goes through."

"Like you'd be able to make sure it happens," Anakin grumbled under his breath, though he was already heading towards the meeting spot.

"Oh, believe me, I have my ways," Obi-Wan said with a playful wink, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "The pages are quite fond of me."

"I'm sure Cody would like to hear about that," Anakin rebuked, turning back to shoot Obi-Wan a knowing look.

Rex let out a genuine laugh as Obi-Wan felt a tell-tale blush creep up his neck.

"I suppose we can drop the punishment," Obi-Wan conceded, a hint of genuine embarrassment in his voice. "You're off with a warning."

"We should probably head to the meeting spot," Rex said, a more serious tone entering his voice as he glanced out a nearby window. "The sun's about three-quarters down by now. I assume you have a plan for Qui-Gon?"

"I do," Obi-Wan confirmed, the playful mood dissipating slightly as he thought of the gravity of their mission, "but it comes with a lot of risk."

"Everything to do with this is risky," Rex countered, his voice steady and reassuring. "I'm sure whatever you came up with will work."

"Let's go," Anakin said, his earlier bluster forgotten as he pulled both Obi-Wan and Rex down the hall, his focus now entirely on the task ahead. "We can't be late."

"I'm sure you're just excited to see—"

"Don't even think about it, Obi-Wan," Anakin cut him off, a clear warning in his tone, though a hint of a smile lingered on his face.

~~~~~

They arrived at the designated meeting spot, a secluded chamber beneath the main temple, its ancient stones whispering secrets of generations past. The air was cool and still, a stark contrast to the swirling emotions Obi-Wan had wrestled with just moments before. Bail and Padmé were already there, their faces etched with a familiar solemnity that mirrored the gravity of their gathering. The flickering glow of holoprojectors cast long, dancing shadows, illuminating the intricate galactic map that shimmered in the center of the room.

"Obi-Wan, Anakin, Rex," Bail greeted them, his voice a low, steady rumble. "We have much to discuss."

Obi-Wan felt the weight of their collective gazes, the unspoken hope and burden they all carried. The initial plan for contacting Qui-Gon, a desperate gamble, would set off a chain of events they could scarcely imagine. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that the path ahead was fraught with peril. Yet, looking at Anakin, whose unwavering belief in him had just pulled him back from the precipice of despair, and then at Rex, whose quiet strength was a constant anchor, Obi-Wan felt a flicker of defiance.

He might be broken, lost between worlds, but he wasn't alone. And for the first time since everything had fallen apart, that thought felt like a tiny, fragile spark of hope, ready to ignite the darkness.

The air in the hidden chamber remained thick with the weight of their newfound resolve, though a fresh wave of logistical challenges now presented themselves. Padmé broke the silence, her gaze fixed on Obi-Wan.

“So, the Jedi. How do we get you to Coruscant without raising suspicion?” Padmé asked, her brow furrowed in thought. “A diplomatic courier is out of the question—too easily tracked. A private transport would attract too much attention.”

Obi-Wan stepped forward, his earlier quietude replaced by a focused determination. “I’ll go alone. I can’t risk exposing any of you on this leg of the plan. And a direct, official route is exactly what Palpatine would be watching.” He paused, considering. “I need to blend in. A commercial vessel, a trade shipment perhaps. Something with regular, unmonitored routes.”

“A merchant,” Rex mused, uncrossing his arms. “They often have low-level security, especially if they’re carrying non-strategic goods. We could find one departing from a quiet area, one that doesn’t run through any checkpoints.”

Anakin nodded. “I know a few old smuggling routes that are still occasionally used by legitimate traders to avoid tariffs. Less scrutiny there.” He looked at Obi-Wan. “But how will you identify yourself to Qui-Gon? Just showing up at the castle could be dangerous, even with his foreknowledge.”

Obi-Wan’s hand went to his collarbone, tracing an invisible mark. “The Jedi Council knows about the birthmark. It’s unique, a distinct pattern that matches the medical records of Ben Jinn. They will know it’s me, I just need to get to them.” He looked at Padmé. “Is there any way to discreetly get a letter to Qui-Gon, to let him know I’m coming and how I’ll arrive?”

Padmé considered this. “A coded message through a trusted, independent Senator’s aide? Someone who regularly communicates with the Jedi on mundane matters, like resource allocations or humanitarian aid. We could embed a non-sequitur phrase into a standard transmission that only Qui-Gon would recognize.”

“That’s good,” Bail interjected. “It provides a layer of plausible deniability. We can make it seem like a harmless writing error if it’s intercepted. Rex, Anakin, can you start scouting those routes and potential vessels immediately? Look for anything departing within the next two standard days.”

Rex snapped a brief salute. “Consider it done.”

Anakin grinned, a flash of his usual swagger returning. “We’ll find you the grungiest, most unremarkable ride to Coruscant, Master. You’ll be practically invisible.”

Obi-Wan managed a slight smile. “Invisible is precisely what I need to be.” He looked at Padmé and Bail. “While I’m en route, focus on securing those initial political alliances. The more ground you lay, the better our chances when the truth comes out.”

“And the medical records?” Padmé asked, her eyes sharp. “We’ll need them before we can truly leverage anything with the Senate.”

“The retrieval of the records happens concurrently,” Bail affirmed. “Rex and Anakin will prioritize finding a suitable transport for Obi-Wan, but then shift their focus to the Palace vault. We need all the pieces in place for a coordinated reveal.”

The small group stood in silence for a moment, the enormity of their task pressing in. Obi-Wan would be risking everything, venturing into the very heart of the power they sought to dismantle. But with the birthmark as his undeniable proof, and Qui-Gon’s prior knowledge, the gamble felt less like a shot in the dark and more like a carefully calculated strike.

“I’ll prepare for departure,” Obi-Wan said, his voice firm. “Let me know as soon as you have a vessel.”

He looked at Bail, the ever-steady anchor, then at Padmé, whose diplomatic grace belied a warrior's spirit. Anakin, impulsive yet loyal, stood by her side, a silent promise of unwavering support. And Rex, the battle-hardened knight, whose quiet strength spoke volumes. They were few, and their enemy was vast and powerful, but in this moment, under the dim, hidden lights of the chamber, they were an unstoppable force.

The details were still being ironed out, the path fraught with unseen dangers, but the first step was clear. Obi-Wan would journey to Coruscant, a ghost from the past returning to claim his truth. He would face the Jedi, confirm the birthright, and then, together, they would unravel the meticulously constructed lies that held Palpatine’s kingdom aloft.

No one spoke. There was no need for further words. The silence in the room was a covenant, a shared understanding of the monumental task ahead. They would move in the shadows, gathering intelligence, building alliances, and preparing the ground. And when the time was right, when every piece was in place, they would strike. Not with open warfare, but with the undeniable, shattering truth. And then, as Padmé had so succinctly put it days prior, they would bring the whole thing crashing down.

The hope that had flickered in Obi-Wan's chest earlier now burned with a steady, quiet flame. It was a dangerous hope, perhaps, but it was hope nonetheless. And in a world shrouded by Palpatine’s darkness, it was more than enough to begin.

Chapter Text

The frigid air of the palace hallway bit at Cody’s skin, a stark contrast to the blazing inferno of longing that raged within him. He stood outside Obi-Wan’s door, his hand hovering over the cold, polished wood, wishing with a desperate ache in his soul that he could breach the barrier. He yearned for the enveloping warmth of Obi-Wan’s room, the sanctuary where—for a fleeting time—he’d found solace in the prince’s arms.

A phantom warmth bloomed in his chest, a ghost of the feeling he’d get when Obi-Wan’s smile lit up his face or his laughter filled the air. And the kiss…a dizzying rush that had promised a future Cody now knew would never arrive. He craved that embrace, that dizzying oblivion, yet all that remained was the bitter, relentless bite of winter, a perpetual coldness that had settled deep within him. A hollow, echoing chasm where Obi-Wan’s vibrant presence had once been.

There would be no whispered visits under the cloak of night, no stolen moments of comfort, no illicit tenderness. All that was left was the unyielding weight of his duty to the throne, a suffocating shroud that had once defined him and now had reclaimed him entirely. He had no idea what grand scheme Anakin had come up with, but the younger prince had whispered promises of freedom, a word that now felt as alien and unattainable as the distant stars. Cody’s mind, usually so sharp and disciplined, wrestled with the very concept.

What was freedom?

He hadn’t seen his family in a year. Even before, it had been a fleeting, once-in-a-blue-moon glimpse, a distant echo of connection. It had been this way since he was sixteen, nearly a decade of an unbroken chasm of distance and isolation. Cody had never been one to truly know warmth, not until Obi-Wan. He had been forged in solitude, accustomed to the biting chill of being alone. Before Obi-Wan, duty had been his entire universe, a cold, unwavering star. And now, in the desolate landscape after Obi-Wan, that duty, heavy and demanding, had returned with a vengeance.

A part of him, a small, bruised kernel of truth, had always known there would be an “after.” He had always understood that what they shared, a love as forbidden as it was fierce, could not endure. Not because of any flaw within them, but because of the cruelness of circumstance. A Prince and his knight, a future already written by the ancient, unyielding laws of the kingdom. They were simply not meant to be, a truth as unchangeable as the granite walls of the castle. Cody had just never imagined their ending would arrive so abruptly, so brutally.

King Palpatine’s discovery of their first, tentative kiss had been the very terror Cody had lived with, the shadow lurking at the edges of their stolen moments. He had known, even then, that secrecy would be a dance on the edge of a precipice. Yet, for a blinding, foolish moment, he had allowed himself to believe they could somehow make it work, that their bond might be strong enough to defy the odds.

How wrong he had been.

So, no, Cody had no earthly idea what freedom was. He had thought he’d found it, a tangible, breathing entity, in Obi-Wan’s arms, in his smile, in the way they’d been able to simply be together. But what was the point of freedom if it could be so effortlessly, so brutally, ripped away? Could it even be called freedom if its very existence was dependent upon the whims of another?

A tension had thickened the very air of the palace today. He’d seen Anakin and Rex, their heads bent in hushed, urgent whispers in the long, echoing halls. And Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan had been a silent sentinel at the windows, his gaze lost in the swirling snow outside, a posture Cody knew well was a sign of deep, troubled thought. They had been like this for over a week, a brooding storm brewing beneath the surface, but today, the air crackled with a distinct, unsettling energy. Whatever their desperate plan, Cody could feel the sands of time slipping away, each grain a silent, ominous warning.

He wished, with a desperate, futile hope, that they truly saw it too. The catastrophic danger inherent in any action they took. Palpatine wasn’t a fool, not by any stretch of the imagination. He knew, with a terrifying certainty, that they had been far too complacent with Cody’s enforced distance, that the king was merely biding his time. The only thin thread holding their fragile plan together, the only thing that might offer a glimmer of hope, was the very fact that Obi-Wan himself had been withdrawn, a closed book to the world. Cody hadn't missed the way Obi-Wan had receded into himself, the way he was carefully, meticulously, cutting himself off from those who cared for him. Something—some talk or unspoken understanding— had happened a few days ago that seemed to mend the gaping chasm that had opened between the two princes, but Cody could still sense the profound ache that lingered within Obi-Wan, a wound that refused to heal.

He hated, with a visceral loathing, that he was the architects of that pain.

He hadn’t wanted things to be this way, never. But Cody rarely got to choose anything for himself, not truly. And when he did, when he dared to reach for something he desired, it was always, inevitably, snatched away.

Obi-Wan was no exception.

Cody stood outside Obi-Wan’s door, the bitter knowledge that the prince wasn’t inside twisting like a knife in his gut. Yet, standing here, a silent, unmoving sentinel, created the illusion, a fragile, desperate lie, that Obi-Wan was there, safe behind the oak. And Cody would do anything, endure anything, if it would help their plan, if it would bring them even a fleeting moment of ease.

He just wished, with every fibre of his being, that their plan would actually work.

~~~~~

The stifling humidity of the courtyard pressed in on Rex, each breath thick with the scent of sweat and dust. He glared at Anakin, whose usual boundless optimism was, today, an infuriating beacon in the face of what Rex considered utter madness.

"You want to put him with illegal smugglers to get him to Coruscant," Rex repeated, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. His voice, usually steady, cracked with exasperation. "That’s a suicide mission. Do you honestly trust a smuggler, especially one who isn't even demanding a price?" The very idea was preposterous. Every seasoned person knew that a free ride was the most expensive kind.

Anakin, oblivious to Rex's rising panic, merely offered a dismissive wave. "Hondo is an old friend," he countered, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "The only reason he isn’t requesting payment is because he owes Obi-Wan multiple favors."

Rex's brow furrowed. "Didn’t Hondo rat out other smugglers so he could get the money for turning them in?" The memory, sharp and unpleasant, surfaced from their past dealings. "What makes you think he wouldn’t do the same to Obi-Wan?" It was a cold, hard fact of their galaxy: loyalty was a luxury few could afford, and fewer still genuinely practiced.

Anakin’s smirk widened, a strange mix of confidence and something akin to mischievous pride. "It’s Obi-Wan he's smuggling," he stated, as if that explained everything. "If it was anyone else, he'd expose them for a bigger price, but Obi-Wan is different. Obi-Wan helped him get out of trouble numerous times, Hondo doesn't let things like that go." Rex had seen firsthand the bizarre, almost inexplicable bond between the Prince and the pirate, but still, this was a leap of faith Rex wasn't prepared to take.

"If you say so," Rex grumbled, the words heavy with his disbelief. He crossed his arms, his posture rigid. "I still don’t like it." His gut, honed by years of combat and countless impossible situations, screamed a warning.

"It’ll work," Anakin insisted, his tone unwavering. "You’ll see. Hondo is the best smuggler out there; he’s gone back and forth numerous times." He spoke with the easy confidence of someone who had never truly faced the consequences of his most outlandish plans.

"Has he ever been caught?" Rex challenged, a flicker of hope that Anakin might finally see reason.

Anakin grimaced, the first crack in his facade. He shifted his weight, his gaze darting away for a fleeting moment. "That doesn't matter," he finally muttered, though his discomfort was palpable. "He’s made it through enough where we can trust it, Rex. I know it."

Rex sighed, a long, weary sound. He knew that tone. When Anakin knew it there was no arguing with him. "Alright," he conceded, though the word was laced with deep apprehension. "But it’s your funeral."

Anakin blinked, a comical look of confusion replacing his earlier conviction. "My funeral?" he echoed, then pointed a finger towards the door as if Obi-Wan were already standing there. "It’s Obi-Wan going."

A grim satisfaction settled over Rex. He allowed himself a small, knowing smile. "Yeah, but it’s you Cody will murder if Obi-Wan gets caught," he retorted, picturing the absolute fury his brother. "I can guarantee the second he finds out how we made this plan work, he’ll go insane." The thought of Cody's impending rampage was almost enough to make Rex forget his own anxieties. Almost.

Anakin merely shrugged, the potential wrath of Cody seemingly as inconsequential as the dust motes dancing in the courtyard’s dim light. "That’s a problem for later," he dismissed, waving a hand. "Now we just need to tell Obi-Wan."

"You say that like it’s going to be hard," Rex deadpanned, watching Anakin’s almost childlike excitement.

Anakin's grin faltered, replaced by a slight wince. "Let’s just say Hondo is exhausting," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "and leave it at that." Rex simply nodded, a silent agreement that some things were best left unsaid, especially when they involved the infamous pirate Hondo Ohnaka. The mission to Coruscant already felt like a powder keg, and they hadn't even left the kingdom yet.