Chapter Text
Vader walks slowly up to the dais which seats Sidious, with a loose grip on the handle of his ignited lightsaber, the tip of which scorches a crooked trail in its wake.
From a distance, sheltered underneath the hood of a cloak, a pair of yellow eyes glint down at him, and a sinister grin follows.
Aged beyond his years, Sidious looks very much the part of a frail and decrepit creature, slumped in the confines of his throne, appearing inebriated most of the time. But the clarity of his cold, calculating eyes give away the act.
“My dear apprentice,” Sidious croons.
“Master,” Vader returns the inflated politeness with a sneer, and halts before the steps.
Anakin Skywalker may have been once fooled by the sycophantic displays from a senile, old man, but that pretense hasn’t been lost on Vader; he has no desire or need for such affections.
Sidious sniggers. “So, you have finally come to kill me. I expected you sooner.”
Vader brings his flesh hand up to his chest and inclines his head in mockery. “My sincerest apologies for having kept you waiting.”
“How have you been?” Sidious tilts his head with a horrible, rotting smile that’s meant to be genial but is about as warm as a corpse—and the only thing as sickly yellow as his eyes are his teeth. “Is Master Kenobi well? And that young boy of yours? Good, I presume.”
Vader scowls. “Enough with the pleasantries, you simpering, old fool.”
Sidious’ smile remains unaffected, and he stares unblinking. “Now, now, Lord Vader, no need to get nasty with your words. I am only enquiring about their well-being. After all, it must have been a joyous occasion for you and your family to finally be reunited with your daughter.”
Vader’s face contorts in confusion. “My what?” he demands, convinced he has misheard. It makes no sense to him.
The wrinkles in the corner of Sidious’ eyes stretch with glee. “Your daughter—Leia,” he elaborates.
At Vader’s dumbfounded expression, Sidious cackles loudly and gives him a sympathetic stare. “Oh, you didn’t know. My poor boy. I thought your precious Kenobi already told you about late Senator Amidala’s other child. Twins—what a blessed birth.”
It can’t be.
“You lie!” Vader roars, shaking in his anger. The cavernous structure of the throne-room trembles and groans from the intensity of it.
“You can take a look at the holo-recording if you don’t believe me.” Sidious flicks his bony fingers in a dismissive gesture. “But truthfully, I doubt you need to. Deep down you already know what I’m saying is true.”
It explains the pull Vader felt toward the little girl—what he mistook as a desire to have a daughter. He grits his teeth as his head spins and his thoughts spiral out of control.
It all makes sense now, why Obi-Wan has persistently denied the truth of his visions. How agitated the atmosphere at the Alderaanian Palace was. Accomplices, all of them. Hiding his daughter in plain sight. Making a fool out of him.
“I have never lied to you, my boy,” Sidious states with a solemn frown, watching Vader pace restlessly like a caged animal. “I have never once betrayed your trust. The same can’t be said about that old master of yours. You could kill your oldest confidant, and he still wouldn’t trust you. Look at the undeniable truth…It’s not too late, son. You can prove your loyalty by getting rid of Kenobi once and for all. Only then will I consider overlooking your transgressions.”
Vader stops and lifts his head, fatally calm all of a sudden. The Force around him settles, and he stares at Sidious with cold, dead-set eyes. “I will deal with Kenobi for his treachery.”
“Good,” Sidious purrs. “I am glad you have returned to your senses. Otherwise, it would be a waste to have to put you dow—” His serpentine eyes widen fractionally for the first time as he barely restrains Vader’s lightsaber, embedded into the throne’s back, from cutting his head in half, after missing the millisecond speed at which it was hurtled toward him like a javelin.
“You,” Vader points. “I have grown tired of your existence. So, I will get rid of you first.”
Standing near the edge of the forest, Obi-Wan smiles watching Luke and Leia play in the lawned fields. Luke brought his plush bantha outside with him and now its hide is caked with dirt from the underside. The duty will befall Obi-Wan to give it a good wash along with Luke after playtime is over.
Luke lets out a peal of laughter when Leia chases after him. Obi-Wan worries about them accidentally tripping and hurting themselves, but otherwise he’s happy to see them finally get along. And it only took them a week to do so.
If only Anakin were here to witness this.
It’s also been a week of complete radio silence. Obi-Wan hasn’t heard anything from Vader since he left, no reports either. Or even a whisper.
Anakin, where are you? he thinks, forlorn, glancing up at the bright, blue sky. The color of Anakin’s eyes, at least how they used to be.
I’m right here, a voice washes over him like a cool breeze—it’s Vader’s.
Obi-Wan gasps, taking a step back in surprise. Before he can respond through their bond, he feels a pulse of energy in the Force, like a thunder clap so powerful it sends him to his knees. His body trembles in shock, and feverish, cold sweat breaks out. He struggles to draw in breath.
His sight begins to blur, and then he sees a vision.
At first, it isn’t clear to him where he’s at; everything is too dark, vague, and spinning. Then, objects slowly come into perspective, and he sees the elevated platform first, with steps leading up to a throne, lit up by a circular viewport at its back, lined with a web of metallic framework.
He is being shown the inside of Palpatine’s private chambers. But why?
A splitting headache makes him yell out in pain, and he drops down further onto his hands and knees.
“Baba, are you ok?” he hears Luke’s concerned voice near him, and then a small hand gingerly pats him on the head. His son’s voice acts as an anchor, bringing some clarity to his mind.
He grits his teeth through the excruciating pain; it’s like his skull is cracking open. “I’m ok—I’m ok,” he gasps out, not wanting to scare Luke and Leia who have squatted down next to him.
His mind grows groggy, and he has to blink against the blurriness taking over his vision. Despite how hard he fights it, he succumbs to the urge to pass out, losing consciousness—but not before he sees, through a pair of eyes that are not his own, Sidious sprawled at the bottom of the steps, shock etched on his severely wrinkled face before a red lightsaber pierces his pale throat.
Obi-Wan sits up with a sharp intake of breath, panicked until he sees Bail’s worried face come into view. Strong hands reach out to help steady him. He blinks rapidly against the harsh glare of the lights and holds up a hand to shield his eyes.
He realises he’s back in the infirmary.
Looking to Bail, he asks, still squinting, “How long was I out?”
“For an entire rotation,” Bail answers.
“Really?” Obi-Wan’s eyebrows go up, while his hand drops back to his lap. “That long?”
It’s hard to believe when the weariness still clings to him as though he was unconscious for a few minutes only rather than an entire rotation.
“Yes. You had us all worried,” Bail says with a concerned frown. “Mercifully, the baby’s alright.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter closed, and he exhales a soft sigh of relief, combing back the strands of pale hair falling over his forehead. “That’s good.”
“Obi-Wan, there’s more.” Bail places a gentle hand on his knee. “I just received word from Vader. He’s on his way back.”
Obi-Wan stares up at Bail, breath caught in his throat. “He’s alright?”
“He’s more than alright. He won, Obi-Wan—Palpatine is dead.”
Elation builds in Obi-Wan’s chest. He can hardly believe what he’s hearing. This is—he blinks. It’s too good to be true.
“Look.” Bail picks up a datapad from the bedside table and taps on the screen before handing it over. “This official address came a few hours ago.”
Obi-Wan takes it from him as a bluish figure materializes. His heart jolts at the sight of Vader’s fiercely solemn expression before him, made somewhat forbidding by the scar bisecting his brow.
Only the upper half of Vader is visible, till the cut of his broad shoulders which are covered by what appears to be a Jedi-like robe. What’s more jarring is the anger in his eyes instead of the pride of victory, or even respite. This puzzles Obi-Wan.
“Citizens of the Galactic Empire, my name is Anakin Skywalker,” Vader states. Obi-Wan’s mouth twitches in a suppressed smile. He hasn’t gotten over the thrill of hearing Vader refer to himself as Anakin. It brings him hope—like a lifeline—of Vader returning to his old self.
“Some of you may remember me as part of the fallen Jedi Order, but now you will come to know me as your new ruler,” Vader declares with an unwavering gaze. “Emperor Palpatine is no more; he has been executed for his crimes.
“It was six years ago when the war started, and three since it ended, yet the consequences are still upon us and will remain so for many years to come. All because of one being: the late Emperor—the deceiver—guilty of orchestrating the entire war to bring about the destruction of the Republic.
“Palpatine appointed a puppet leader, Dooku, in the opposition to manipulate both sides. He pulled the strings until the Galactic Senate was forced to hand over more power to him in the name of national security—until he bypassed the Senate itself...The game was rigged before it even started. Designed in a manner which ensured that all sides lost simply by participating.
“Which is why a state of emergency has been declared until a proper Senate is established, and all of Palpatine’s governors are apprehended and brought to trial for their corruption. Amendment is to be made to the constitution to prevent one individual from amassing too much power. And—”
Having heard enough, Obi-Wan hesitates and then presses pause, deciding to watch the rest of it (and the replay) later in the privacy of his room.
His eyes lift up to meet Bail’s. “That sounds…” he briefly pauses, searching for the right words and then settles for, “somewhat promising.”
He doesn’t quite believe it himself. Although he understands there is a power-vacuum that needs to be filled, still Vader’s actions of executing a coup d'état and declaring Martial Law to enforce the Rule of Law in the Galactic Empire are a rather contradictory way of achieving the end goal of democracy.
“It all sounds very altruistic.” Bail returns the look with a pointed one of his own. “Let’s just pray he plans to keep his word.”
Obi-Wan nods in agreement. He wants to take things a step at a time and not get worried over matters of the future, but he also can’t ignore Anakin’s philippic against the Jedi during their duel at Mustafar and his proclaimed desire to rule over an Empire with an iron fist. So, when the time comes, Obi-Wan fears Vader may not be willing to relinquish even an ounce of power.
“How long till he reaches?” he asks Bail.
“He’ll be here within the hour.”
Within the hour…
For some inexplicable reason, Obi-Wan feels as though he needs more time—to prepare, for what exactly, he doesn’t know. Everything? Nothing at all?
Before he can comment, both of their attention is caught on the door when it whooshes open, revealing Breha with Leia on her hip and a very distressed looking Luke by her side, clinging to her hand.
Luke, red-faced from crying, immediately runs over to Obi-Wan when he sees him.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, my precious boy,” Obi-Wan exclaims, reaching down to pull Luke up into his lap. He holds onto Luke tightly, cheek pressed to the top of Luke’s head, and gently rocks him back and forth.
“Are you ok, Ben?” Leia asks in a small voice as Breha steps into the room with her.
Obi-Wan lifts his head to offer her a reassuring smile. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m all better now.”
“You gave us all quite a scare,” Breha says, stopping at Obi-Wan’s bedside, opposite to her husband. “We haven’t been able to figure out what happened. You just collapsed.”
“Maybe if we could have arranged a Jedi Healer,” Bail adds with much remorse, as though he hasn’t done enough—as though it’s on him that the Jedi are sparse and in hiding.
Obi-Wan pointedly shifts his gaze between Bail and Breha. “You both have done so much for me, I am in your debt,” he insists. “Besides, if my supposition is correct, a Jedi Healer will not be required.”
Bail’s brows pull together. He shifts in place, crossing his arms. “What is it?” he asks, eager in his curiosity.
“Before I lost consciousness, I saw Vader execute Palpatine,” Obi-Wan explains. “At first I mistook it for a vision, but now I believe I watched it all happen, in real time, through Vader’s own eyes.”
Breha’s lips part in surprise. “How is that possible?” she questions; her gaze cuts across to Bail for his reaction, but he looks equally taken aback.
“It’s possible, for a Force Dyad,” Obi-Wan replies, absentmindedly stroking Luke’s hair as he clings to him tighter. “It’s deeper than the typical connection through a bond. You share a consciousness—like two parts of the same whole. It’s a Sith lore, unheard of amongst the Jedi, but entirely plausible.”
“And this is a new development?” Bail inquires.
“Yes…I don’t know—maybe the signs have always been there, and I’ve been too wilfully ignorant to heed them. But it remains true, the depth of our bond went unnoticed. Until yesterday, that is.”
Breha’s eyebrows furrow. “After all these years, why now? There must be a reason.”
“You’re right,” Obi-Wan agrees. “I can only speculate for now, but the duel with Palpatine must have taken a toll on Vader, surpassing even his expectations, so he must have subconsciously reached out for strength through the bond.”
“—And the impact was literal,” Breha adds.
Obi-Wan nods. “Physically and mentally.”
“I can’t pretend to understand all of this Jedi business,” Bail says, “but if it means that you’re alright, then I am satisfied.”
An unexpected chuckle escapes Obi-Wan at Bail’s honesty. “Yes, I am alright, my friend…For now, at least.”
“—Some of you listening are from the Order. Be assured that the hunt for the Jedi is no more. You are free to come out of hiding. As for loyalists of Palpatine—see this as a warning. You will not be allowed to persist.”
Seated on the edge of the bed, finally in the privacy of his own room, Obi-Wan takes the opportunity to watch the rest of Vader’s official address. Regardless of what’s being said, it’s a comfort to hear his mate’s voice; he closes his eyes in a state of meditation and lets it wash over him.
He listens once. Then twice.
Until the comlink at his wrist buzzes with an incoming message.
It’s from Bail:
“He’s here.”
The fine hairs on the back of Obi-Wan’s neck and arms rise. An ominosity lingers in the terseness of the words spoken.
His heart thunders in chest as he quickly pulls on his cloak and heads out of the door, only to halt with a sharp inhale when a chill strokes his spine at the sight of a tall figure standing a few feet away in the middle of the hallway, like a mirage.
Vader turns in place to face him. He’s dressed in an armored suit—not too different from his old one, except this one is more sleek for greater mobility, with a sturdy chest-plate, and a heavy-looking red Paludamentum—befitting an Emperor with a military background.
But the thing that stands out the most to Obi-Wan are Vader’s eyes: they are a vivid blue, coolly observing him in return.
A gasp gets caught in Obi-Wan’s throat. “Anakin?” he asks, cocking his head, with caution he hasn’t had to maintain with Vader in nearly a year.
He feels powerless in that moment, not knowing what to expect. He can’t sense the Darkside from Vader, and although he knows appearances can be deceiving—not to forget Sidious, who hid in plain sight for years—there is something truly different about Vader this time.
“It’s me,” Vader, no—Anakin answers. “It’s truly me.”
Obi-Wan nearly crumbles on the spot. A feeble, jittery laugh starts to spill from his lips, but the joy is short-lived. He falters immediately when he notices that Anakin’s expression hasn’t changed from its deadpan. There is bitterness in the Force—the crackle of rage.
Anxiety crawls up his chest.
“Where is Luke?” Anakin asks in a quiet voice which carries like death.
“He must still be with Breha,” Obi-Wan answers, studying Anakin’s demeanor for a clue. “She took him to explore the rest of the palace, with the princess.”
Anakin’s eyes narrow minisculely—but enough for Obi-Wan to take notice. He gets the weird sense he has said the wrong thing. He doesn’t understand: is Anakin upset over Luke’s absence?
“What’s wrong?” he dares to ask, approaching his estranged mate. He presses his palms to Anakin’s cheeks, making him meet his gaze. He trails one hand up into Anakin’s curls at the nape of his neck, caressing in a way he knows Anakin enjoys.
For a moment, Anakin closes his eyes and leans forward into the touch, bumping his forehead to the side of Obi-Wan’s face. But then, he hesitates—his internal struggle to resist affection is obvious.
Something is very wrong.
Obi-Wan makes to step back when pressure grips him by the throat, digging into the sides like the squeeze of fingers, just barely letting air travel through his windpipes. Fear makes his insides go cold.
“I should have known you were hiding something from me,” Anakin says, tone bitter.
Leia, Obi-Wan immediately understands.
Kark.
“Always a step ahead, Master,” Anakin taunts with a glare. “Should I applaud you for your treachery?”
“It was—for her safety,” Obi-Wan gasps out, struggling to breathe when the pressure increases, threatening to crush his windpipe. “I was…going to—tell you.”
Anakin’s face twists further in fury. “When?” he demands.
“Right…time,” Obi-Wan answers, his voice a wheezing whisper. His fingers twitch helplessly with the urge to paw at his throat, despite the futility of it. “On your return…Didn’t get—chance.”
“Liar!” Anakin accuses. And Obi-Wan is thrown back in time, to Mustafar, except he is in place of Padmé—pregnant and terrified.
This must be his damnation for failing to save her. Cursed to a similar demise.
“Anakin, I’m sorry,” he manages in a rasp, staring into Anakin’s blue eyes, his own stinging with unshed tears, pleading for mercy—for love.
Anakin continues to glower at him but slowly conflict seeps into that angry glare.
“You infuriate me so fucking much,” Anakin eventually grits out, and releases Obi-Wan from the Force-choke in favor of clutching him tightly by the elbow with his mech-hand to the point of pain.
Obi-Wan lets out a yelp, not getting a chance to catch his breath properly when Anakin jerks him closer and—much to his surprise—kisses him hard and deep, unleashing all his fury into it.
A small noise escapes Obi-Wan at the harsh press of lips against his. He has to twist his face away from Anakin’s demanding kisses with a whimpered gasp. A short cough escapes him, and he barely draws in breath thrice before Anakin grips his chin and dives back in for more rough kisses that leave him light-headed.
Being kissed by Anakin feels very much like getting swept by a hurricane. He has to resort to using the Force to shove Anakin back just to get air.
Anakin grunts when he is forced back, but recovers quickly, barely swaying as he skids to a halt. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and stares at Obi-Wan with a dangerous look about him.
Then, Obi-Wan gasps again when he’s dragged closer to Anakin without Anakin lifting as much as a finger. “Anakin?” he questions, perturbed.
“Do you love me?” Anakin simply asks, expression solemn as he slings an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist.
Obi-Wan stares back in question, trying not to be conscious of the hold around his lower back. “Of course I do,” he responds without hesitation. “I never stopped.”
“Then prove it,” Anakin says, dropping his gaze low to Obi-Wan’s kiss-swollen lips. “Do as you promised.”
Oh…
Obi-Wan releases a nervous chuckle, eyes darting away and back to his mate. “Right now?”
“I have had enough of your games,” Anakin replies in a quiet voice, terrifyingly poised even after his tumultuous outrage. “You’re going to be mine completely, Master.” He stares Obi-Wan down, daring him to try defying him. “No more waiting.”
Obi-Wan wets his lips in an anxious tic and nods his approval. “Alright.”
He’ll do anything to distract Anakin from his anger—to keep Bail and Breha safe.
Obi-Wan finds himself panting for breath once more, for an entirely different reason this time, as Anakin pounds into him from behind with merciless thrusts. There’s a dull ache spreading in his lower back and thighs which tremble with the effort to stay still and not clamp together with every jab over his prostate.
His cock is bright red, same as his throbbing hole, with watery cum bubbling from the slit, staining the sheets. He’s been made to come twice already; it’s a struggle just to keep his eyes open. And Anakin hasn’t even knotted him yet.
With a pained whimper, he pushes himself up onto his forearms and reaches a hand behind to shove at the possessive grip Anakin has on his hips, digging into existing bruises.
Anakin’s thrusts falter. He loosens his hold, caressing Obi-Wan’s flank in an apologetic gesture with large, dexterous hands.
Then, just when Obi-Wan thinks they’re finally going to take things slow, Anakin pushes him down against the sheets with a palm between his shoulders. A drawn-out groan leaves Obi-Wan’s lips when Anakin settles on top of him, plastered to his heaving back, arms bracketing his own. At this angle, Anakin’s cock sinks deeper inside of him.
Anakin has gained more pounds of muscle since the last time they mated, and the bulk of him feels more oppressive, along with their combined body heat.
“Anakin—” he protests, but Anakin softly shushes him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the heated nape of his neck.
He shudders when Anakin’s teeth graze at the sensitive skin there. He’s being toyed with, kept on his toes about a bite he knows he’ll only receive when he least expects it. Yet, it makes him nervous whenever Anakin’s mouth lingers near the start of his shoulder.
“Just like that,” Anakin whispers hotly against Obi-Wan’s neck, enjoying the way Obi-Wan clenches around him in return. He slowly grinds his hips, barely pulling out before slamming back into Obi-Wan with a harsh thrust that makes Obi-Wan cry out, legs squirming at the overwhelming sensation.
A pleased rumble reverberates from Anakin’s chest, and he rubs his cheek affectionately against the back of Obi-Wan’s head, scent-marking him.
The softness of the gesture makes Obi-Wan feel affectionate in return. Until Anakin licks a stripe up the side of his neck to the back of his ear. The shock of wetness makes Obi-Wan tense up and then tilt his head away with a grimace. “Ugh, Anakin, don’t be uncouth.”
“What,” Anakin chuckles down at him, “I can stick my tongue down your throat, but this you mind?”
“I don’t like it,” Obi-Wan simply says. He yelps when Anakin nips him on the tip of his ear.
“Anak—ah!” Before he can retaliate, Anakin’s thrusts grow more rapid, jackrabbiting into him, not granting him even a second of reprieve.
Incoherent with pleasure, his eyes start to roll back as he nears another orgasm. He drops his head against the pillow with a groan, bracketed between forearms that are taut with tension. His usually neat, slicked-back hair is a loose mess, strands flopping against his forehead as he is made to rock back and forth with the force of Anakin’s thrusts.
“Ugh!” he exclaims. The beginnings of Vader’s bulbous knot smacks against his rim which flexes outward in response to the continuous onslaught, blooming like a rose bud, before clenching tightly again. “Sl—slow down…Please.” His abdominal muscles hurt from being overworked, like he has laughed too hard.
Anakin slows down his thrusts, only to come to a complete stop instead. He shifts above Obi-Wan onto one arm, and Obi-Wan can feel him reach down between them, knuckles grazing his buttocks. Anakin circles his fingers around his knot before it expands, further delaying his own orgasm.
“Don’t stop now,” Obi-Wan whines in protest. “Please, I’m so close.” But his pleadings are ignored. The press of Anakin’s body leaves him as Anakin pulls out completely. His hole, gaping from the abuse, pushes out a stream of pre-cum before he can help it.
Anakin lets out a deep groan at the sight and palms Obi-Wan’s cheeks, spreading them to thumb over the twitching rim, glistening with slick and cum. The scrutiny which never fails to embarrass Obi-Wan.
“Turn around,” Anakin orders.
And Obi-Wan does. He stares up at Anakin’s handsome face and sweat-dampened curls. After all this time, he is still awed by Anakin’s princely looks. He reaches up to graze the outside of his fingers along Anakin’s cheekbone, over the cuts and bruises from his fight with Sidious.
Anakin maintains eye contact as he turns his face to press his lips to the palm of Obi-Wan’s hand. Those blue eyes—they bring back some of that missing innocence to Anakin’s features. Yet, Obi-Wan finds himself missing the familiarity of Vader’s sulfuric yellow irises and immediately feels horrified by the stray thought.
He must be losing his mind.
He is almost grateful to be saved from his spiralling thoughts when Anakin leans over to take his face in both hands and kisses him breathless.
“Do you know how hard it was being away from you? You’re my prize,” Anakin says against his lips, kissing him again.
Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “How progressive of you,” he retorts, but Anakin’s desire for him makes his cheeks burn.
Anakin snorts in amusement and steals another kiss from him. Obi-Wan allows it, parting his lips with a barely suppressed moan as Anakin’s mouth skates over his, sucking on the tip of his tongue before pulling back.
“Enough, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says when he moves down his body to mouth at his sensitive nipples, making soft suckling noises.
Anakin lets out a warning growl when Obi-Wan pushes at his shoulder, and sucks on Obi-Wan’s nipple harder, teasing the areola roughly with his teeth, before moving onto the other one.
Obi-Wan squirms with a grimace, carding his fingers helplessly through Anakin’s soft curls as Anakin laps at his chest, sucking hickies all over. His cock continues to twitch in response, and pre-cum oozes from the slit, dribbling down the underside of his cock, coating his scrotum, mixing with the slick covering his backside. He can’t bear more of this. He’s being driven to the brink of insanity. He needs Anakin to knot him now.
Anakin noses at Obi-Wan’s neck. “Hmm, you smell so fucking good,” he says. “There’s something different about you…What’s changed?”
Obi-Wan swallows thickly as Anakin tilts back to face him, searching. “What else have you been hiding from me, Obi-Wan?” Anakin teases, but the look he gives him is somewhat menacing.
Obi-Wan holds back a wince. With the way everything has unfolded, the pregnancy was the last thing on his mind. He decides to just say it: “I’m—uh, I’m pregnant.”
Anakin stares at him, shocked. Then, a million emotions flicker in his expression. “You’re really pregnant?” he asks, showing a moment of vulnerability.
“I am, just like in your vision,” Obi-Wan affirms with a smile, pressing a hand to his stomach. “Focus on my signature…Can you feel it—the difference?” He waits and sees the click of recognition in Anakin’s face, followed by a grin and delighted laughter.
“I can’t believe it,” Anakin exclaims, joy evident in his voice. He shifts down to kiss Obi-Wan’s stomach, unmindful of Obi-Wan’s throbbing, wet cock, which slides along the side of his throat, making Obi-Wan shudder.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to doubt you,” Obi-Wan says a little breathlessly, “I hope you can understand now why I was skeptical then.”
Anakin’s gaze flickers up. “I can.” He comes up again, powerful body gliding forward from between Obi-Wan’s legs, his hips keeping them separated, to capture Obi-Wan’s lips in a scorching kiss.
Obi-Wan shuts his eyes as Anakin moves to pepper his face with kisses, then his jawline, nibbling marks at the soft skin hidden underneath the scruff of his beard.
Then, his eyes fall open and his jaw drops in a silent scream which turns into a dying, guttural cry when Anakin’s elongated canines sink into the curve of his neck at the start of his left shoulder. Tears sting his eyes, running down the sides of his face, at the piercing pain which sets his nerves on fire.
Anakin doesn’t let go. Obi-Wan feels the wet trickle of blood run down his collarbone. His chest heaves with growing distress. “Anakin?” he croaks, voice cracking. He grips the alpha’s shoulders with trembling fingers, wanting to shove him away; instinctively, he knows that moving will cause more harm than good.
This feels like a punishment. The bite is meant to be given during the throes of an orgasm to serve as a distraction from the sheer agony of it.
Anakin loosens his jaw but doesn’t release Obi-Wan entirely. His hands reach down to blindly grope at Obi-Wan’s thighs, gripping him by the underside of the knees to force them up.
Obi-Wan allows himself to be easily manoeuvred. And despite his panic, he tries to keep his upper body still even as he is forced to bend into an uncomfortable position with his folded legs wedged apart by Anakin’s broad shoulders, and knees hooked over Anakin’s arms.
He whimpers when he feels the fat tip of Anakin’s cock clumsily bump his pulsing hole, the thick length of it sliding up his crease, once then twice.
Anakin finally separates from Obi-Wan’s neck and leans back, letting Obi-Wan’s leg drop momentarily to align his cock, before retaking it and pressing forward until Obi-Wan’s thighs are pressed against his chest. He interlinks their fingers together, keeping them pressed above Obi-Wan’s head.
He stares down into Obi-Wan’s eyes. “You’re mine,” he says, baring teeth coated in blood. “Don’t you ever forget.”
Obi-Wan finds himself nodding, wide-eyed, despite himself. He inhales sharply, eyelashes fluttering, when Anakin’s cock penetrates him, making his legs quiver from the sudden fullness.
He has to bite his lip to contain all the broken sobs when Anakin starts to fuck him hard, full of precision and control, sending jolts of pleasure through his body which combined with the endorphins and adrenaline from the bite create the weirdest sensations of euphoria.
“Mhm, kark—” Anakin huffs into Obi-Wan’s neck, nearing his own orgasm, making animalistic grunts in the back of his throat as he pounds into Obi-Wan with urgency, tightening his hold on Obi-Wan’s fingers.
Obi-Wan’s eyes grow unfocused and distant, Anakin a blur on top of him, as his arousal builds. Whimpers and moans spill from his lips helplessly with each smack of Anakin’s hips against his smarting ass.
“Ngh!” he cries out, toes curled in the air and eyes rolling back in a mix of gut-clenching pleasure and pain, when Anakin’s pulsing knot forces past his rim, bullying an orgasm out of him. He feels pried open and stuffed full, his body left a quivering mess. His cock jerks where it’s sandwiched between their stomachs, spewing pathetic spurts of cum despite the strength of his orgasm which knocks the breath out of him, blackening out his vision.
He passes out from exhaustion and sensory overload, realizing only when he blinks awake half an hour later. He stirs from underneath the covers draped over him, and turns his head to find Anakin seated at the edge of the mattress, his back to him.
“You’re awake,” Anakin acknowledges without a backward glance. He gets up, and Obi-Wan notices the fitted pants covering his lower half. He has clearly washed up, leaving no trace of blood that was splattered on his mouth a while ago.
“I am,” Obi-Wan answers, watching with furrowed brows as Anakin pulls on the rest of his armor. “Where are you going?” he asks, curious.
Anakin drifts back over to the bed, one knee on the mattress as he leans over to brush back Obi-Wan’s hair, kissing him on the brow. “To get my daughter,” Anakin answers calmly, and then backs off to head for the door.
Obi-Wan sits up in panic, the sudden motion makes his head spin. “Anakin, what—?” he starts, floundering, and has to press a hand to his temple to curb the dizziness.
“Get ready to leave. We’ll be returning to Coruscant soon,” Anakin simply says. He pauses briefly at the open door, durasteel fingertips lingering on the frame. “She’s coming with me,” he states, voice cold as ice, before walking away.
“Hold on—” Obi-Wan protests but it’s futile with Anakin already gone.
Oh, dear, he thinks.
He drags himself out of bed, only to have his thigh muscles protest when he stands, making his legs tremble like a newborn calf that can barely hold itself upright. It takes him a longer time than he has to spare to walk on steady two feet without reaching for support. He quickly enters the refresher and makes himself as presentable as possible given the very short notice.
Staring at himself in the mirror, he looks as frazzled as he feels, covered in bruises, bitemarks, and bodily fluids, with his hair in disarray. He is grateful that Anakin has treated the wounds of the mating bite, covering the area with a patch while he was asleep. He can’t even imagine how mauled the meat of his shoulder looks underneath; even the slightest movement of his left arm is painful.
He has to give himself kudos for how quickly he wipes himself down, puts on fresh clothes, and combs back his hair with wet fingers. He feels mortified having to plug himself to prevent any accidents considering he doesn’t have the luxury of ample time to clean himself out after being stuffed full of cum. His abused hole throbs in protest from the sting of the stretch.
He goes after Anakin, mentally cursing the limp in his step. Out in the hallway, amongst myriad others, he realizes he has absolutely no idea where Anakin went.
He takes a moment to sense his mate’s overbearingly strong presence and finds his way to the very dining hall where Bail and Breha first hosted them. He walks in to see Anakin crouched in front of Leia, who is flanked on either side by her parents. Breha has a drowsing Luke in her arms, his head on her shoulder.
Obi-Wan stays by the doors, not wanting to interrupt while Anakin explains with gentle compassion, “—because I am your real father. We share the same blood.”
Leia looks confused, and twists in place to look back at Bail and Breha for confirmation.
Bail nods. “He’s your birth father,” he confirms, voice tight; it clearly pains him to admit it knowing what this conversation leads to.
Leia turns to look at Anakin again, and says, “But I already have my parents.”
Breha’s hand lifts up to her trembling lips, suppressing the urge to cry. She tips her head against Luke’s and holds onto him tighter in an effort to ground herself.
“They are your parents, yes,” Anakin answers patiently, “in every way except that you weren’t born to them. They don’t share your blood.”
Leia mulls it over. Something clicks in her mind and seems to excite her. “What about Ben?” she asks, making Obi-Wan straighten in attention. “Is he my—”
Anakin shakes his head immediately. “No, he’s not. You aren’t related to Ben.”
“Oh,” Leia deflates, folding her arms behind her back. She twists her body from side to side, contemplating, and then inquires: “My real mom—where is she?”
Anakin’s jaw works. “She…” He sucks in a tiny breath and continues, “She's in a better place.”
“Can I see her?” Leia asks, a picture of innocence.
Anakin hesitates, but to Obi-Wan’s surprise, he doesn’t deflect, and promises, “I’ll bring you to her someday.”
“Can we go see her now?”
Anakin is speechless for a beat. Then, he admits, “We can’t. I’m not ready to face her yet. I’m afraid I’ve disappointed her.”
“Oh...Did you say you were sorry?”
Anakin shakes his head. “Sometimes words aren’t enough. I have to make up for it with my actions. Which is why I’m going on an adventure. I need to win her over. And I want you to help me.”
“Can’t mom and dad come with me?”
“No, they can’t. They have to look after everyone here, so it has to be just us.”
“But I don’t want to leave them.”
“We’ll come back,” Anakin assures. “Don’t you want to travel in a spaceship? Visit other planets?”
Leia looks conflicted. She looks to her parents for permission, “Can I?”
Bail smiles at her, pain masked behind it. “Go have fun, Leia. This is your chance. We’ll be right here, waiting for you.”
Breha bites her lip and nods with a watery smile. She brings herself to agree, “Yes, darling, we’ll be right here.” She strokes Leia’s braided hair.
Leia turns her attention back to Anakin with naive excitement. “We can go.”
Anakin’s smile in return is honest. “Let’s go,” he says, grinning, with a thrilled pat to his knees before he stands up, towering over Leia. He nudges her toward Obi-Wan. “Please wait with Ben for a moment. I need to discuss something with your parents.”
He waits until Leia goes over to Obi-Wan, watching as she immediately clings to Obi-Wan’s hand and greets him with a chirpy "Hello," before taking a step closer to Bail and Breha.
Obi-Wan smiles down at Leia and squeezes her hand affectionately. “How was your day?” he decides to ask, to preoccupy her, while keeping his ears open to the conversation even as Leia talks away.
“I’ll have her things ready,” he hears Breha say in a lowered voice. His gaze darts over, watching her maintain a brave face, although the anguish in her eyes gives her away.
“Thank you,” Anakin acknowledges. “I know how you feel about me, and it is more than justified. But you must understand, she is my daughter—my flesh and blood—and Luke’s twin sister. She must come with me. You have raised her with great love for nearly three years of her life, when I couldn’t. For that, I am indebted to you, and I would never take away the honor of your title as her parents. You have my permission to visit her anytime. She may even stay with you for two months every year, if that is what you wish.”
“That’s—” Bail shares a stupefied look with his wife, clearly not having expected Anakin to allow them to see Leia again.
“Thank you,” Breha replies for the both of them, teary-eyed. “It would mean everything.”
Anakin inclines his head respectfully, and says, “We can settle the arrangements later.” He carefully takes Luke from Breha, smiling softly to himself at the sight of his son who fidgets in his arms, slowly rousing from his slumber.
Rubbing at his eyes with a small fist, Luke leans back in Anakin’s arms and then freezes abruptly. He blinks, unsure of what’s real.
“Hello, Luke,” Anakin greets with a playful grin.
Luke takes in the sight of his father with a shy smile which slowly grows wider into a confused but happy beam when he grows confident that he’s not dreaming.
“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Anakin teases, showering Luke’s cheek with kisses.
Luke giggles, kicking his legs in excitement. “Daddy,” he exclaims and throws his arms around Anakin’s neck in a tight hug. Anakin’s laugh in return is a gentle rumble as he rubs circles over Luke’s back, bringing him over to Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan caresses Anakin’s upper-arm when he nears him. “You handled that well,” he whispers to Anakin. “Thank you.” For giving Bail and Breha the respect they deserve, it goes unsaid.
Anakin hums and leans close to press a chaste kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek in response. “Let’s go,” he says softly. “Say your goodbyes.” He flashes Leia a quick close-lipped smile and affectionately taps her on the chin with the tips of his mech-hand before he leaves with Luke to head outside, talking to his son the whole way.
“Leia,” Breha calls out. “Please go with Alana to get your things packed. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Alright, mom,” Leia agrees, albeit with a dimmed mood from being burdened with a task, no matter how measly.
“Alana, don’t let her get distracted,” Breha says when the handmaiden enters the dining hall. “Just help her pack her favorites.”
“Yes, my Queen,” Alana bows, hands folded respectfully in front of her. “Come along, Princess,” she says, and takes Leia’s hand, leading her out to the hallway.
It’s been a turbulent day, and Obi-Wan feels oddly out of his depth being forced to confront the aftermath of it with his two close friends.
“He didn’t waste a moment, did he?” Breha intones, forehead crinkling with a faint frown as she steps up to Obi-Wan and grazes the bandage peeking above the collar of his tunic.
Averting his eyes, Obi-Wan turns a bright shade of crimson. He doesn’t know how to respond; Breha’s words don’t carry an accusation.
Breha touches Obi-Wan’s bearded cheek this time, making him face her. “You’re his anchor, I understand that now,” she says. Yet, she looks scared for him. “Your influence on him is no doubt—he’s forbearing now, and less volatile.” Eyes pleading, she adds quietly, “Please look after yourself. And take care of her, won’t you?”
“I promise,” Obi-Wan replies. He takes both her hands into his own and kisses the top of them, making her smile, even if it’s forlorn.
“I should go see after Leia,” she says, gently patting his shoulder as she passes him by.
Bail approaches Obi-Wan and places a firm hand of his own on Obi-Wan's shoulder. “You must understand why I’m in no mood for heartfelt goodbyes, my friend. I have no will left in me.”
“I do,” Obi-Wan replies and reaches to pull Bail into a hug, which Bail immediately reciprocates. The two men cling to one another. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me and for Luke,” Obi-Wan says into Bail’s shoulder. “I have only ever felt like a burden to you, and for that I am forever in your debt.”
“And I am in yours,” Bail returns, thumping Obi-Wan on the back. Breaking away, he lets his hand trail down to Obi-Wan’s bicep as he faces him again. “After all, you’re going to be looking after my daughter,” he adds with a lopsided, moustached smile. “She’s prone to mischief, so you have your work cut out for you. We expect nothing but trouble as she grows older.”
“She must take after you,” Obi-Wan quips, eliciting a fond chuckle from Bail. They both laugh in a brief moment of escape.
But then, just as swiftly, Bail sniffles, blinking back tears. “I would have fought for her more,” he admits. “But I didn’t, because there is no one I trust more than you, Obi-Wan. And so does Breha. I thought you should hear it one more time before you start blaming yourself.”
“I resent that you’re comforting me in such a moment and not the other way around,” Obi-Wan jests, trying to keep things light-hearted but fails as he gets choked up on his emotions. “You’re a noble man, Bail. You and Breha are the best people I know.”
Bail’s mouth quirks up into a bashful smile. He extends his right hand to Obi-Wan and says, “If you ever need help, you know where to look for it.”
Obi-Wan takes it with a firm handshake. “The same goes for you, my friend.”
At the main hangar, Obi-Wan waits beside Anakin, who’s still holding onto Luke in his arms, as Leia bids farewell to her adopted parents.
She is so excited about going on an adventure that she fails to notice how despondent Bail and Breha are as they crouch to hug her.
“You can reach out to us anytime, alright?” Breha says with her hands gripping Leia’s upper arms. Her eyebrows are drawn together in worry.
“I know,” Leia replies, swaying with energy.
It breaks Obi-Wan’s heart because Leia may be eager to get going right now out of ingenuous enthusiasm, but it won’t take long for her to grow homesick after being away from her parents.
It’s going to be a very difficult period ahead.
“Have fun, but don’t misbehave,” Bail says with a smile. “We can’t wait to hear all the stories you’ll have to share.”
“I will!” Leia says. “I’ll be good, I promise.”
“Yes, stay out of trouble,” Breha emphasises, then dismisses Leia with an adoring look: “Go, I know you’re itching to ride in the cruiser.”
With one last hug and a kiss to Leia’s cheek, they part. Bail and Breha stand, and Bail wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders, tucking her close to his side.
Leia looks up at her parents and says with an enthusiastic wave, “I love you, bye!”
“We love you, too,” Bail replies, emotions clogging his voice.
“So much,” Breha adds, bringing her clasped hands up to her chest in emphasis.
They watch her walk away after a wave goodbye, their hearts breaking into a million tiny pieces with each step.
“Do I call you father?” Leia asks, stopping in front of Anakin and Obi-Wan, rendering Anakin speechless again.
“Only if it feels right to you,” Anakin responds when he finds his voice, still a little flabbergasted as he takes Leia’s extended hand into his mech one.
Luke, balanced in Anakin’s left arm, eyes Anakin and Leia’s intertwined hands, and then twists around to wrap both his arms around Anakin’s neck, clinging on tighter with an angry pout.
Oh, Force, Obi-Wan thinks. They have to break the news to Luke that not only does he have a twin sister, but there’s also another baby on the way.
“If I’m your daughter, will my eyes change color like yours?” Leia asks.
Anakin stares down at her, trying to come up with an appropriate answer as to why his eyes were yellow when he last saw her.
Obi-Wan quickly intercepts with a light-hearted chuckle that comes out a little awkward despite his effort, and says, “It doesn’t work like that, Leia.” He gently guides her up the ramp of the Gozanti-class cruiser.
Before she can ask for an elaboration—
“Wait,” Bail calls out, stopping them in their tracks. “Take this Astromech and Protocol droid with you. They belonged to you first.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes widen at the sound of a familiar friendly beep, followed by a glint of golden plating ushered forward by one of the palace guards.
R2-D2 and C-3PO!
“I kept them for Leia,” Bail adds, gaze fixed on Anakin.
“Thank you,” Anakin acknowledges without taking his eyes off the two relics from his past, his expression masked.
Obi-Wan is too familiar with Anakin’s body-language to not recognise by the stiffness of his shoulders that he is not as unaffected as he is presenting.
After what feels like a long pause, Anakin’s jaw clenches in a hint of emotion before he drags his gaze away. “Bring them aboard,” he simply orders his troopers before striding up the ramp with Luke and Leia.
R2-D2 lets out a despondent chirp at being brushed aside.
“It’s alright, Artoo,” Obi-Wan says. “He’ll come around. He just needs time to process.”
R2-D2 whirls, spirits lifted again, and rolls up the ramp to affectionately bump into Obi-Wan’s leg with a cheeky chirp.
“Greetings, new master!” C-3PO waddles up to Obi-Wan, cheery and eager-to-please. “How delighted I am to be in your service.” Then, C-3PO’s circular eyes hone in on R2-D2. “Why, Artoo, that is no way to act. Forgive him, Master, he has spent too long in the junkshop.”
Obi-Wan forgot C-3PO’s memory was wiped clean. “Right, we should get going,” he says, and then, holding up his hand, he waves farewell to Bail and Breha one last time before making his way up the ramp and into the cruiser.
Obi-Wan is seated between Anakin’s legs, his back pressed to Anakin’s bare chest. Anakin has his arms around him, gently stroking his distended stomach. Soon, he won’t be able to hide his pregnancy behind loose clothing. He has his duties at the Temple, but he can’t bring himself to leave the comfort of his bed. Not to mention the exhaustion he feels after being kept up for most of the night.
Anakin kisses the side of his head and says, “We should try again after this one.”
Obi-Wan grimaces thinking about the horrible bout of morning sickness he just got over (that nightmarishly awkward moment when he had to throw up with Anakin’s knot still inside him, preventing an easy retreat), not to mention the persistent lethargy, swelling, and joint-aches from his current pregnancy.
“Maybe,” he concedes. “But I don’t want you to get attached to the idea. I might not even be able to conceive again.”
It’s futile; he can already feel Anakin’s arousal at the thought of putting another baby in him. Lately, it’s all the alpha seems to think about. Obi-Wan needs to discourage Anakin’s breeding kink somehow because he can’t keep up with his urges anymore.
“As long as we get to keep trying,” Anakin says, kissing and nibbling his way down Obi-Wan’s neck to his shoulder. His hands track up to knead at Obi-Wan’s plump breasts, pinching sore nipples which have turned red after being bitten and sucked raw last night, making Obi-Wan keen at the shockwave of pain and pleasure. “If it takes, and we’re really lucky,” his voice is a husky whisper in Obi-Wan’s ear, “it’ll be twins.”
Obi-Wan suddenly feels nauseous. “Nope.” He swats away Anakin’s hands and quickly scrambles out of bed to rush to the refresher with a palm pressed to his mouth.
And his morning sickness is back.
This has to be a sign.
Later that afternoon, Obi-Wan is roaming the halls of the reclaimed Jedi Temple when a soft, feminine voice calls out his name, making him pause. “Obi-Wan?”
Obi-Wan turns around to see a cloaked Togruta female with orange skin and tell-tale white markings, and gasps, “Ahsoka?! Where did you—?”
“I might have snuck in.” Suddenly sheepish, she rubs her arm at the elbow, and Obi-Wan is thrown back to the time when she was still part of the Order. She must be nearly twenty now, and taller since the last time he saw her, yet he can’t help but also see the young Padawan still trying to find her way in life.
He opens his arms, inviting her for a hug even though the last time they saw each other, they didn't part on the best of terms. “I’m so glad to see you.”
She exhales sharply, tense shoulders dropping in relief as she launches herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over. “Master, I’m so relieved you’re alright,” she cries out into his shoulder. “I wasn’t sure—when I saw the Holo-announcement...I couldn’t believe it. I wanted it to be real so bad.”
Then, leaning back, she asks in a meek voice, “Where’s Anakin? Is he—?”
“He’s here,” Obi-Wan confirms with an assuring smile. Through the bond, he seeks out Anakin, requesting his presence.
“Why didn’t you both find me? I mean, you could have joined the Rebellion, and we could have helped.”
Obi-Wan hesitates. So much has happened, and she doesn’t know that Anakin fell. “We didn’t want to put you at risk.”
“But—” She visibly loses her train of thought when she notices the mark on Obi-Wan’s neck. “Oh, Obi-Wan, you’ve—“
“Yes, I am bonded,” Obi-Wan confirms. “It wasn’t planned, but…” He shrugs, smiling.
“I guess a lot has changed since the last time we met,” Ahsoka says, wrapping her arms around herself. “Despite everything, I don’t know, there were some things I expected to stay the same. Even this place.” She glances up at the Temple Hall at large.
“So did I,” Obi-Wan whispers, following her gaze.
“Baba!”
Obi-Wan sways when a small body crashes into the back of his legs. “Oh, Luke! You surprised me,” he says, twisting to glance down at the blond head peeking out from behind him.
“Ahsoka, this is my son Luke,” Obi-Wan tries to introduce—if only Luke would stop evading his attempts to coax him out from where he’s hiding behind him.
“Hello,” Ahsoka greets. She stares at Luke hugging Obi-Wan’s legs, then back up at Obi-Wan, gaze discreetly cutting to his stomach, trying to calculate when it could have happened, and how he must have hidden it.
“Padmé’s,” Obi-Wan explains with gentle solemnity.
“Oh.” Ahsoka immediately understands. She has always been a sharp girl. But this also means there’s another detail that doesn’t escape her notice: the change in Obi-Wan’s Force-signature and the subtle bump not completely hidden underneath the layers of his tunic.
“How far along?” she asks in a soft voice.
Obi-Wan smiles, happy to share this moment with her. “Just over four months.”
“Congratulations, Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka says, her expression full of warmth. “I’m happy for you, truly.”
He knows Ahsoka wants to know more, especially about the father. His bond with Anakin and the existence of their children have not been disclosed to the public for the sake of their safety and privacy. Anakin wants it to stay that way until there is more stability and no risk of retaliation by vindictive rivals.
But Ahsoka will find out soon enough.
“I hope you’re around for this one,” he says, lightly patting his stomach.
Ahsoka’s eyes widen imperceptibly. “Master—it would mean everything.” Then, almost shyly, she admits, “I always wanted to be an aunt.”
“You’ll be good at it. You have always been the best of us…Although, I hope you won’t come to regret this after you’ve spent a rotation with this little hellion and his sister,” Obi-Wan teases, reaching back to tussle Luke’s hair. “Don’t let his shyness deceive you.”
Luke grabs at his hand and holds onto it, keeping Obi-Wan’s arm behind his back.
“Cute,” Ahsoka comments. The skin of her forehead pinches in an afterthought. “He reminds me of…” She trails off, cocking her head.
They both tense instinctively, sensing his presence before he even makes the corner. Anakin comes into view, dressed to the nines in his armor, with Leia trailing behind him.
“Anakin,” Ahsoka gasps, fists clenched to her sides in a nervous gesture. She takes a step forward and then hesitates, sensing a change in her former master.
“Ahsoka,” Anakin greets in a voice that has grown deeper since the last time they’ve addressed one another, coming to a stop beside Obi-Wan. He’s smiling but his eyes, though the same pale blue, no longer carry warmth like they used to; instead, there is a calculative edge to them.
Obi-Wan watches Ahsoka hesitate at first and then completely disregard her instincts to step forward and wrap her arms around Anakin’s middle. For a moment, it’s like she’s fourteen again, hunched in Anakin’s arms as he tightly hugs her back. She shuts her eyes and takes comfort in his familiar earthy scent.
“You’ve grown, Snips,” Anakin comments when she pulls away (albeit reluctantly).
“It was inevitable,” she quips with a playful smirk, placing her hands on her hips. “And you’ve changed career paths.”
Anakin continues to fondly smile back at her as though he’s proud of her for this simple act of growing up. It’s so tender and fatherly that she can feel that warmth from him again which always made her feel safe in his presence.
“It was inevitable,” Anakin returns in sly humor. “This is my daughter, Leia, by the way,” he introduces when Leia braves a step closer to Ahsoka out of curiosity. “I’m assuming Obi-Wan has already introduced you to Luke.”
“Oh,” Ahsoka straightens in surprise, back ramrod straight. She finally takes them all in as they truly are—a family.
“Why am I not surprised,” she comments, feeling baffled yet amused and mildly horrified by the thought of her two parental figures getting together, her gaze darting between Obi-Wan’s embarrassed expression and Anakin’s fiercely prideful one as he stares at Obi-Wan instead. “Rex will be relieved to know that you both are alright.”
Anakin’s head snaps to her. “Where is he?”
“He’s in the perimeter,” Ahsoka answers with a grin. “He wouldn’t miss this opportunity for the world.”
“And Cody?” Obi-Wan asks. “Did he…?” Make it, he wants to frantically know but can’t bring himself to say.
“He was last spotted in Carida. We’re going after him, don’t worry.”
Relief fills him. Cody is alive so there’s still hope.
“Master Vos is with us as well.”
“Oh, Quinlan survived?” Obi-Wan exclaims, jubilant. Anakin’s eye roll doesn’t escape his notice. He wants to elbow him. At least try to act like you aren’t a former Sith, he passes through the bond. Anakin snorts with a wry smirk.
Ahsoka observes their silent communication with arms crossed and a raised eyebrow-marking. “I see some things haven’t changed.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Anakin responds, lips upturned in a cheeky look.
Ahsoka smiles at the reminder of their last conversation—before she left for Mandalore. She shakes her head with a small chuckle. “No, not at all.”
Luke leaves the safety of Obi-Wan’s legs to sidle up to Anakin. Anakin leans over to lift him up into his arms.
“He looks just like you,” Ahsoka comments.
“He acts like him, too,” Obi-Wan remarks. And it’s true, Luke is starting to look and behave more like Anakin with each passing rotation; the resemblance is uncanny at times.
Anakin snorts. “I take pride in that,” he states, and then, “Come Luke and Leia, let’s go meet your Uncle Rex.” He leads them down the length of the mezzanine.
“You don’t even know his location,” Ahsoka exclaims, already at their heels.
Obi-Wan waits behind just to take in the moment. It feels surreal to witness Anakin reunited with Ahsoka, the pair strolling the halls of the reclaimed Jedi Temple with Luke and Leia, looking ethereal from natural light which spills on them from the clerestory, like something out of a daydream.
For once, he feels positive about the future. He can finally imagine his dream of them all having dinner together at a lake house in Naboo become a reality and not just another nightmare of what could have been.
Anakin glances back over his shoulder with an impish smirk. “Can’t keep up, old man? Hope I didn’t work you too hard this morning.”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan chastises with a disapproving look, and joins them with a huff.
“Yup, nothing has changed,” Ahsoka laughs, the delighted sound of it echoing inside the hall. “Also, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that last bit.”
It feels just like old times.