A chilly wind blustered across the endless crowd of beings that huddled together, sharing both their warmth and their comfort. Thick clouds hung heavy over the enormous gathering, their greyness reflected in the sea of colourless buildings that rose like sharp waves, frozen in time. Some peaked to form ascending staircases, while the tips of others were swallowed by a shimmering mist, one that hovered over those who had collected to farewell one of the Republic's greatest heroes.
Cradled in a basin that was cut into the densest area of Coruscant's surface, they stood and watched, sheltered on one side by the quintet of spires and rhomboid glory of the Jedi Temple – the home and training ground of the most elite warriors, skilled in the use of the all-encircling Force. On the opposite side rose the dome-topped, bombproof shelter that was the Senate building, through whose thousands of glass windows peered countless senators, officials, and even lower-class guards.
"... and he will be dearly missed, by everyone," Mace Windu, one of the most senior members of the Jedi's leaders, the Council, concluded his speech. His calloused hands gripped the edges of the podium, his dark eyes sweeping over those attending the public funeral. The Jedi had wisely chosen a large space to hold it, setting their stand atop a raised platform and blockading the bottom of the stairs with a thin rope fence and clone guards to control any insurgents. Not everyone appreciated how the Jedi had handled the sacrifice of Anakin Skywalker.
The sobs of some heartbroken individual split the brief silence, but they were soon hushed by a gentle blonde, dressed as nothing less than pure royalty, who offered the comfort that only one who had experienced such grief could give. Her blue eyes glistened with tears, and her navy gown had become slightly crumpled from the space travel, but her bearing identified her as none other than Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore.
"I now invite Obi-Wan Kenobi to come forwards," Mace said, glancing back to the Jedi General who stood behind him, "to receive a small gift."
The thirty-seven-year-old man stepped forwards, his hands clasped calmly behind his back, his clean white robes sitting perfectly, and his brown cloak, with hood nestled on ginger hair, hanging from his shoulders. His blue eyes darted across at the assembly, pausing on the beautiful Duchess who watched him sorrowfully, before resting on Mace Windu. No traces of emotion, aside from a calm acceptance, graced his face, and even if his tidy beard hadn't hidden his mouth, nothing unprofessional or otherwise irresponsible would have been seen. He was a Jedi first, and the best friend to Anakin second.
A silver object, dull and lifeless, lay in Mace's hands as he turned to face Obi-Wan. Tiny black fins protruded from around the barrel of the weapon, built into the sleek metallic body to aid in gripping the handle.
"I present to you," Mace stated, with a dozen camera droids waiting in anticipation, "Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber, the greatest weapon of a Jedi Knight and the exemplification of many years of hard work and labour. Though this is not typically custom for Jedi who have passed, as you, Kenobi, dedicated years in training him, we wanted to honour you with it."
Obi-Wan accepted the saber with all the grace and charisma of one who had given and received such gifts many times before. His eyes flicked between the object and Mace's face, reflecting nothing but gratitude and civility.
"What are you going to do about it?" a clear voice, familiar in political circles and Jedi alike, rang across the sombre procession.
Everyone turned to see the one who had spoken — a young female, in her late twenties, with neatly braided chocolate hair, a dark dress adorned with pale stars, and fiery brown eyes that flashed as she glowered at the two Jedi standing above her. In her hand was a holoprojector, showing the footage that played like a broken record in everyone's minds: Skywalker's sacrifice, captured on camera, every moment etched forever into the pages of history.
"What will you do now?" Padmé Amidala, senator to the planet Naboo and close friend of Anakin, demanded. "Anakin gave his life to save Mandalore, and his killer is still out there! What are you doing about it?"
Murmurs of agreement rolled through the crowd, the noise increasing when Mace merely nodded in acknowledgment. "I understand your concerns, Senator, and I assure you the Jedi are doing everything that can be done to find the offender."
"It's been a week!" Padmé insisted, seemingly unaware that her short stature could be considered cute. "And there has been not so much as a whisper!"
"The Jedi are working hard," Mace continued evenly, "and not everything we do can be brought to light yet."
Another rumble, this time of dissatisfaction, rose from the crowd, accompanied by, "you can say that again," and "you're not wrong there."
Mace ignored the intended jab at the Jedi's dealings, finishing with, "But I ask that you continue to place your trust in the Jedi."
Padmé seemed wholly displeased as she stepped back, but she refrained from adding anything more.
"That's probably wise," I mused to myself, shifting in my crouched position atop one of the nearby buildings. "You don't want to get on the wrong side of Mace Windu." The wind's moaning loudened, whistling past the billboard I sheltered against and catching on my ripped tunic. Shuffling uncomfortably against its frigid attack, I tucked my long-sleeved underlayer snugger into my black pants, trapping my warmth. Below me, the funeral procession was breaking up, and I was glad for it: I was freezing.
Sliding off the apartment's roof, I landed heavily on the adjacent building, wincing as my thick-soled boots jarred into my ankles. They had in them a lot of heel for a guy, and I was beginning to regret my recent purchase of them. My old boots were so much more comfortable.
I strode along the roof's edge, keeping pace with the thinning stream of people who were flowing into the Jedi Temple for the provided afternoon tea. No one noticed me, the lone dark figure who walked parallel to them. That was the issue with always looking down.
I stopped when I reached the corner of the building, then swung myself down, expertly navigating my way to the smooth stone beneath. My gloved hands gripped the final windowsill before I released and dropped silently to the ground. A handful of pebbles fled as I took a few cautious steps forwards, making certain to remain shrouded by the alleyway's shadows.
From my concealed place, I watched the last stragglers trailing into the building, surprised to see Obi-Wan still standing at the bottom of the stairs. In his hands was Anakin's lightsaber, sitting innocently and glittering softly in the falling raindrops. His face was turned from me, his hood covering his expression, but his head was bowed just slightly. Maybe he was only cold in the wet chilliness, or maybe he was trembling a little.
My weight shifted as I moved to take a step forwards, but then Obi-Wan's chin lifted as Mace called to him. He must have simply been cold: no emotions, bar content acceptance, were present on his relaxed features.
"When you're ready, you're welcome to join us," Mace told him before disappearing into the Temple.
Still, I watched him. Still, he stayed. But what was he doing? What was going through his mind? Why didn't he move on and enter into the sweet consolation of companionship and nibbles? Perhaps he needed none of either.
Finally, he turned, about to head for the Jedi Temple, when suddenly a shadow appeared and grabbed Obi-Wan's own saber that hung at his side. In his moment of confusion, blue eyes darting around the area, the lightsaber in his hands was also pinched.
"Hey!" he started to say, but the rest died on his lips. And yet, in the millisecond that preceded him composing himself, there was no emotion in his eyes: only that same, duty-bound calmness.
But, despite myself, I didn't leave him to sort out his problems. I recognized the shadow, and I wanted to see what happened. So I stayed.
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So many questions at the end of this chapter!! How did Anakin die? What secrets do the Jedi hide? Who is "the shadow?"
Hey fam!!! I'm so excited to be back!!! Welcome to the first chapter of my (hopefully) standalone Star Wars fic!! This is gonna be such a crazy book, full of twists and turns, confusion and mystery, and sadness and joy (and probably a sprinkling of humour). I'm just so excited to share this with you guys, and I hope you're as fired up as I am!!
I've had this idea for a while now. It's strongly based off something me and my sister did ages ago, and I hope you guys find it as interesting as we did! Enjoy! ^0^
Also, I really can't promise when I'll update this: life just feels so crazy at the moment! But I'll see what I can do ^-^
Here are some dedications to my amazing followers! Feel free to check this one out; I'd love to have you here ^^ Also, feel free to leave a vote and/or a comment; I appreciate every one of them, and I love chatting with you guys!
Wikluk/cam_skywalker_stark/the_space_raiders/TheBeanQueen06/General_Skywalker/x_-_-_-_-_-_x/anakinpadmeforlife
Many thanks to anyone else who checks out my fic! Feel free to drop a comment and/or a vote! I love interacting with my readers :)
Love you lots and God bless y'all!
~Ecapé