Fear. Cold. Mom. Hunger. Up. Up.
Obi-wan had hardly the strength to spare any projection of comfort for the squirming baby over the table. Anakinâs mounting destress flayed against the older boyâs mental barriers, but Obi-wan forced himself to ignore him.
âShut. It. Upâ.
Anakin was unused to Obi-wan closing off the bond and was belligerently was having gone it. Kicking his tiny legs and throwing his small arms in what was going to be a full out fit.
COLD!! SCARED!! OBI!! MOM!! UP! HELP!!
âDo it, slave. Or Iâll do it for ya. And charge Watto an extra fee for the troubleâ.
Rako was one of many employed under the Huttâs main fundamental export of slaves in Tatooine. No one of upper importance that Watto could afford, but steady enough of hand to be a recognizable face among these parts.
Obi-wan had to fight the dark urge to shove every single one of those kriffing tracker chips right through Rakoâs forehead. See how far the chipper could walk before inevitably triggering the swâ-
There is no emotion. Only peace.
âKriff it! Any bleeding in its squabbling will be out of your hide, boy!â
A scalpel. A cut. An incision.
The very act of taking Anakinâs reaching arms, only to restrain them was as awful of a torture as anything that Xanatos could bring to promise. Obi-wanâs chest turned to rot when he further refused to meet Anakinâs cries and rippling pleas. But he could spare no amoung of focus or risk Rako noticingâ
An opening gap with no anesthetic in asserting the chip.
Obi-wan had never received the formal training of a Jedi Master, but Shmi had offered her own mind in practice in many means to protect her son. But it was his own pain, his core memory, that Obi-wan projected. Xanatos becoming the base of his deception as Rako reached for his toolsâ
Stop there. Pinch the area. Brace for a struggle.
The foreign pressure of a point before the strange sensation of parting skin.
He looped the memory consistently over and over again as he forced the perspective under the guise of influenced mundaneness.
There is no ignorance. Only knowledge.
Anakin screamed as believable as Obi-wan would dare subject him as Rako reached for him with the scalpel. The force stretched tighter and tighter, like a rubber band under Obi-wanâs crooked finger. His inexperience and battered conscience threatening to burst with every slow centimeter he pressed over the Rakoâs mind.
Stop there. Pinch the area. Brace for a struggle.
Itâs not hard to imagine the Mastersâ reaction to Obi-wanâs inevitable fall from the Lightened path. At times he could barely stomach it himself, feeling the lingering phantoms of past disappointments that plagued Obi-wanâs current reality.
But Anakin would share in none of it if Obi-wan could help it. Whatever taste of freedom allowed, Obi-wan and Shmi would have him know it all.
There is no passion. Only serenity.
Shmi was forced to apply the bandage herself when Anakin refused to release Obi-wan from his tight grip. Those terrible cries had elevated to gasping hiccups and no matter how encompassed Obi-wanâs exertion had made him, he needed to hold him too.
Whatever feeling heâd hidden before, he wholly gave to Anakin now. Flooding their bond back with just as much intensity to the confused and frightened child, so desperate for love, comfort and safety that Obi-wan had originally denied. Even for that short moment had been of being cut off had been as dramatic as the strange horrendous stranger had been.
OBI!
âIâmsorry!Iâmsosorry!Forgiveme!Forgiveme!â
SCARED!! HUNGRY!! OBI!! OBI!!
It took some time before Anakin allowed himself to be relinquished to his mother. Time the kindly woman gladly even if Obi-wan knew she didnât quite understand them. The force, the connection, most of what Obi-wan lacked the knowledge to properly explain to an nonforce-sensitive. But Shmi had never been deterred by this, not since the moment she convinced Watto into buying him by a mere âgut feelingâ. And not since Anakin had been born and light something back into Obi-wanâs eyes.
She pulled them both into her arms shrouded them both in love and protectiveness like a warm blanket. Dotting each of their faces for their bravery and boundless gratitude she wouldnât dare outwardly show. Obi-wan, in all his exhaustion, fall into her with only a little shame in covering his tears.
There is no death. Only the force.
Today was not a free day and Watto would come hollering at them soon. But for now, there was more tolerance for Anakinâs tears and a moment for the family to settle. Because today was supposed to be the day Anakin would be formally marked as a slave. Would have.
Anakin was too young to fathom what months of desperate work had afforded him in future life. What efforts Shmi and Obi-wan to make ensure him something better than Tatooine. Obi-wan was no Jedi but he would teach Anakin everything he knew and the rest, he knew they would learn together.
I donât write. But there was a little idea worm in my brain after reading Jediâs apprentice book one. In which Xanatos sells Obi-wan into slavery rather than throwing him into a work camp. No Qui-gon is there to save him as heâs drifted all the way to Huttâs territory where a very pregnant Shmi convinces Watto she needs an extra pair of hands.
The moment Anakin is born, his tiny mind laches onto the strongest force signature in close proximity. Due to Obi-wanâs limited training, it sets Anakin and him both into unique position to develop something new outside the code and Jedi influence. Shmi gets used to the weird things floating around and people being suddenly being very generous when Obi-wan is next to her.
In other words. No need to wait on Boba Fett to fix things. And Obi-wan is only twelve years older than Anakin in this timeline.
for @crown-the-void for the valentineâs art exchange. Itâs just a little something I gushed about before. Sorry it took so long, I just donât really write. For the obikinvalentineexhange
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
dailybridgerton
romaincrisis
ellievsbear
baratheonpilled
