Chapter Text
Two weeks.
It took two weeks for everything to change, though the sounds of battle ceased after the fifth. And yet, despite an end to the carnage, the passages out of the tunnels remained sealed. A rather brave member of the Young tentatively asked the men guarding them when they would be allowed out and had been told to give Lord Vader more time. After five straight days of nothing but carnage and death cries, no one dared to argue. Then, after what felt like both far too soon and not soon enough, they were let out of the sewers.
Of course, Cerasi and Nield were the first to emerge from their tunnel haven, tentatively lifting the lid to scout the area. What they saw had them both stunned beyond words, barely comprehending what they were seeing.
They should have been coming out in the heart of Zehava, the capital of Melida/Daan. While the city had been in disrepair, one could find the occasional building still whole and standing. But now… there was nothing. It was as if the entire city was just… gone. In its place were towering piles of rubble and crumbled machinery lining the streets. Various men and women who were definitely not Elders were actively cleaning up, erecting temporary shelters, and tilling fields.
Looking around, the three young leaders scoured the area, searching for any sign of the slaughter they’d sold one of their own for. And yet, there wasn’t a single dead body anywhere to be found. There were the remnants of fires scattered about, which may have been funeral pyres, but it was as if the Elders were just… gone.
Even stranger, there were plants. Living, growing plants! They weren’t even confined to the small crop fields that were somehow already bearing fruit. There were budding vines crawling along the piles of rubble and even some of the temporary shelters. After a lifetime of nothing but death and blood, those blue-green plants were akin to miracles in the eyes of the Young.
As the three older kids were attempting to pick their jaws off the ground, the younger kids began to climb from the tunnels. With precision that was far too perfect to not be a habit, the children were gently ushered toward the various areas of the camps. Some were taken to the medical tents to tend to their wounds or help to clear any illnesses their poor living conditions may have inflicted. Others were sent to a large, open area lined with places to sit and adults doling out large bowls of steaming soup.
“I… can’t believe it,” Nield whispered, his eyes blown out. “This is… nothing like what I was expecting to see.”
“Same…” Cerasi let out, her gaze drifting all over the place. “Is this…really Zehava?”
“Not anymore,” Obi-Wan answered, torn between relief and a growing dread. He was visibly pale and looked somewhat sick, which was understandable given his situation. The collar blocking his connection to the Force wasn’t helping things either. “But… at the very least, this means that Melida/Daan will have a clean slate.”
“Indeed,” the dark voice of Lord Vader spoke up from behind them.
The three of them stiffened, both Cerasi and Nield instinctively reaching for their weapons. Thankfully, Obi-Wan managed to stay their hands, knowing that antagonizing the one who had done so much for this world would be the worst mistake they could make. Once they’d settled their nerves as best they could, the three turned around, coming face to face with the Sith Lord that had single-handedly ended the centuries-long war. Lord Vader loomed over them, like a man cut out of living shadows. And yet, as he spoke, there was a warmth to his voice that felt out of place with the dark aura he exuded.
“This world has been rife with conflict and death for far too long. It needed to be purged for balance to be restored, but not all who called it home were beyond redemption.” The man’s gaze drifted across the throes of children who were slowly growing bolder and a bit louder. “The Young of this world will know peace and stability, able to build anew from the ashes of the old.”
“Under the watchful eye of another,” Nield muttered under his breath. Cerasi elbowed him in an attempt to hush him, but Lord Vader’s ears were far too sharp.
“Come now, Nield.” The way the man spoke reminded Obi-Wan of Master Yoda’s gentle corrections, especially when the answer should have been obvious. “You are resourceful for your age, but all of you are children. You will need the aid of capable adults who can help to rebuild Melida/Daan. More than that... all of you are war orphans, some more fresh than others. Being able to find new families and forge new bonds is a key part of healing from the trauma you and yours have experienced.”
Both Nield and Cerasi made a face at the mention of new families, which Obi-Wan couldn’t fault them for. Cerasi’s father had been the Melida leader Wehutti, and Nield never spoke about his parents. He had just said they were Daan and nothing else. Neither of them had positive experiences when it came to adult figures in their lives, even when Master Qui-Gon had come.
“Regardless, everyone here has chosen to stay and make Melida/Daan livable again,” Lord Vader continued, likely sensing their turmoil. “The choice of what kind of relationship you wish to have with them is yours to decide.”
The illusion of choice. It was such a powerful thing.
“For now, though, it is time for me to collect my payment.”
Lord Vader’s voice made Obi-Wan flinch, the collar around his neck feeling tighter. What little color he’d managed to retain throughout this ordeal drained from him in a matter of seconds. His knees quivered and he felt like he wanted to throw up. Cerasi, who had been gently holding his arm the entire time, tightened her grip.
“Obi, please…” she whispered.
Despite feeling almost physically ill, Obi-Wan did his best to smile. With gentle hands, he pushed her grip away.
“Thank you for everything,” he told her, still trying to smile through his terror. “Live well, Cerasi. You too, Nield.”
He gave them both a formal bow, then straightened his back and turned to face Lord Vader, his new Master and owner. The dark man beckoned him over with a curling finger and Obi-Wan felt the Force rippling around him despite the collar. He stumbled forward, instinctively lowering his gaze as Lord Vader opened his cloak, holding out an arm. He took a breath, then stepped forward, allowing himself to be pulled into his Master’s embrace. The way he looked to be swallowed by the shadows felt symbolic, and Lord Vader was obviously pleased with his prize.
“I’ll be checking in on the progress of Melida/Daan on occasion,” the dark man informed the two remaining leaders. “I look forward to seeing the world it becomes.”
With nothing left to say, Obi-Wan was escorted away. He allowed himself one glance back at his friends before he turned away for the final time. He was never going to see them again, but hopefully, they would be safe.
~\~/~
Vader could feel the way the young Obi-Wan was shaking in his grip, his terror hanging over him like a shroud. It only seemed to grow worse the closer they got to Vader’s cruiser. His brow furrowed beneath his cloak, silently pondering his next moves.
As much as he wanted to remove the boy’s collar, to soothe his fears through the Force and show him that he meant no harm, he knew that Obi-Wan was in no position to accept that. The poor boy needed time to settle himself and adjust. Thankfully, the flight to Statera would take some time and he could easily have Obi-Wan spend it in the meditation chamber.
“Lina, set a course for Statera,” he called to his pilot droid as the loading ramp closed behind them. “We’re going home.”
“Right away, Lord Vader.”
Vader felt Obi-Wan flinch at the word home, the boy lowering his head as he shook. It was clear his young charge was on the verge of tears. With a gentle nudge, Vader had the boy turn around, grasping his chin and lifting it slightly.
“There is no need for tears, young one,” he said in as gentle a tone as he could muster. “Like the Young, you have a chance at a clean slate. No longer are you Obi-Wan Kenobi, the abandoned Jedi Padawan. You are born anew in this new life, with a new path laid out before you.”
No sooner had these words left his lips did the gravity of them settle over Vader. Up until now, he hadn’t truly thought about the impact of his actions. Yes, his interference on Tatooine and Zygerria had certainly changed the course of history, but this would be the biggest diversion in his story. The boy he held in his arms would not grow to be the man who would become Anakin’s Jedi Master. All he was, all he would be… was for Vader to decide.
As this realization dawned on him, so too did the growing concern for how the Jedi Order would act. Since Obi-Wan had been a fledgling Knight when their paths crossed on Tatooine, someone had likely come to bring him back. Immediately, a sense of possessiveness washed over him, especially as he recalled the pain the boy had gone through with being abandoned. No, he would not be relinquishing Obi-Wan so easily. The boy was his now. His to mold and shape and grow into something far better.
“And with this new path comes a new name,” Vader declared, searching the Force for a suitable one. And when he found it… “From this day forward, you shall be known as Ben.”
The name settled over the boy, like the name was always meant to be his. Ben closed his eyes, taking a shaking breath before slowly opening them again.
“Ben,” he repeated as if feeling the word in his mouth. “I am Ben…”
Knowing that his young charge had much to contemplate, Vader finally led the boy to the meditation chamber. He opened the doors, gently ushering him into the room.
“Stay here and rest, little one,” he ordered, finally releasing the boy. “It will take some time for us to reach Statera, so take that time to center yourself.”
A small amount of tension left the boy's shoulders and Force signature at the idea of being left alone, even if only for a few days. It made Vader happy, knowing he’d made the right choice to give him space.
“For now, the collar will remain. I promise it is for your own good.” He couldn't let the boy release his emotions into the Force. It wasn't healthy, not to mention releasing emotions into the Force took effort, and the boy was completely exhausted. He needed rest, then a proper meal and a bath before they could begin to address his trauma. “Just stay here and be good, then we can discuss removing it once we're home.”
“Yes… Master,” Ben replied, hesitating briefly.
Vader nodded with a smile, running his hand through the boy’s hair. “You’re a good boy, Ben. You’re going to be just fine.”
He then stepped back, closing the door and letting it seal behind him.
~\~/~
Hearing the door seal behind him, the freshly renamed Ben couldn’t help the way his breath hitched. He glanced around at the circular cell he had been placed in, grateful that he at least had some comforts afforded to him. The light hanging above his head was soft and there was a myriad of cushions littering the floor. Of course, the rest of the cell was nothing but seamless metal, the air vents far out of reach and too small to use to escape. The seal was also good enough that not even sound could escape. He was well and truly trapped.
With the collar around his neck keeping him from fully reaching out to the Force, Ben’s powerlessness was all too clear. All he could do was wait for his new Master to let him out, to bring him to this unknown world that would become his new home.
At least the planet seemed to have some form of life, given the plants Lord Vader had brought to Melida/Daan. Of course, there was no guarantee he would be able to enjoy it. He was the slave of a Sith Lord now, meaning his fate was far from certain. Perhaps he would be sealed away in some darkened dungeon, used for all manner of horrible experiments. Or maybe he would be a common worker, scrubbing floors in his owner’s home or breaking his back tilling fields, praying that he earns the right to exist another day. Or… maybe he would be broken down, made into the Sith Lord’s dark apprentice.
Feeling himself beginning to spiral, Ben squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to banish those horrible thoughts. Attempting to discern his future would do him no good, given it was not his to decide anymore. He sat down on the cushions, taking on a meditative position. Even if he couldn't lose himself in the Force, he could still try to recenter his thoughts. To let go of Obi-Wan Kenobi and embrace Ben.
He imagined himself standing on a stony peak, a bridge stretching to another. Across the bridge, he saw himself, the version of himself he'd always dreamed of being. This version held a lightsaber aloft, poised to protect the galaxy. Behind him, the shade of his former Master lingered, his form flickering unevenly. At his feet, there was Master Yoda as well, the kind, patient smile his teacher wore upon his face. There was the formless silhouette of his future Padawan, someone he would never get to meet.
Ben looked at Obi-Wan from across the bridge, then looked down at the rope keeping it tethered. Throughout everything he’d gone through, from nearly being shipped out to the AgriCorp to defecting to the Young, this bridge had remained steady. He’d held out hope that the future he dreamed of would come to pass. But this time… This time, things were much different.
Behind him, a dark, unyielding hand came to rest on his shoulder. Ben stiffened, knowing that this was the presence of the man who now owned him, body and soul. He didn’t look back, just straightening his back as something was pressed into his hand. He looked down, seeing it to be a lightsaber.
His Master’s lightsaber.
It activated in his hand, revealing a red blade that made him cringe. The hand on his shoulder tightened minutely and Ben closed his eyes. He turned away, a single tear running down his face as he gave the saber a swing. He heard it cut through the ropes of the bridge, one right after the other. Only then did he open his eyes, watching as it crumbled into the black chasm beyond the peak. The darkness engulfed Obi-Wan Kenobi, swallowing him in its endless blackness.
Now, only Ben remained.