Saga Imperium [AU. Obi-Wan, Anakin, Padmé, others] Prologue + Chp1 up!

Title: Imperium (or, in umbris potestas est)
Author: Estora
Timeframe: Primarily set in the Clone Wars / RotS (Prequel) Era (some mention of pre-Saga era)
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Chancellor Palpatine, Female!Revan, Yoda, Mace Windu, Mina Bonteri, others.
Pairings: Anakin/Padmé, mentions of Obi-Wan/Satine (past), Obi-Wan/Female!Revan
Rating: T / PG13
Notes: This sort of came out of the blue and I definitely probably shouldn't be starting a new story, let alone a chaptered one. But I liked this idea too much to file it away! So here is the prologue. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: After an archaeological excavation goes devastatingly wrong, Obi-Wan Kenobi is comprised by a dangerous entity. In the midst of the Clone Wars and an already darkening galaxy, he must control the force inside him to save everything he holds dear - or else he'll become the very threat he is fighting.

IMPERIUM​

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(or, in umbris potestas est)​

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prologue​

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Fear.

It was difficult to breathe. The Council Chamber had never lent itself well to relaxation or ease; the present circumstance made it twice as hard to calm his hammering heart and his racing mind. Not all of the Masters were looking at him; they were murmuring amongst themselves, making the air hum with tension. He took another breath – in, out. It hurt still, to draw air: his bandaged chest throbbed as the painkillers wore off.

He couldn’t even reach the Force to release his emotions, or heal himself faster. The inhibiting cuffs around his wrists were heavy, weighing him down and chafing his skin. The temperature was low in the Chamber. He was shivering as Mace spoke to Yoda, both casting wary – no, pitying – glances at him. Sweat clung under his armpits, cold and sticky, and he swallowed and tried to breathe. In, out.

His fists clenched.

“Frightened, are you, Obi-Wan?”

He looked up, meeting Yoda’s unreadable gaze. He breathed the tense air. In, out. “Truthfully, Master? Yes.”

“Fear leads to anger.”

And anger led to hate, and hate led to suffering. Beware the Dark Side, Jedi. Obi-Wan bowed his head, accepting the gentle reproach, and tried to relax his hands. His fingernails had left sharp indents in his palms from the pressure. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge –

“Apologise for the precautions, we do.”

Obi-Wan flexed his hands, and the metal of the inhibiting cuffs clinked. “I understand their necessity.”

“The Council has reached a decision on your… circumstance, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan turned his gaze to the Council Member who had spoken. Mace Windu looked unimpressed as always, his fingers steepled together as he watched Obi-Wan with a dark frown.

“Master Che has told the Council that there is no way to remove the shard from your chest without your death in the process. In fact, it is currently the only thing keeping you alive.”

Obi-Wan had known that. Sensed it, anyway, before the cuffs had been put on him. It was different hearing it from Mace, though. More final. His chest ached with the reminder, and with every movement he swore he could feel the holocron shard move against his heart where it was lodged. He clenched his jaw and he remained silent.

“That means we have been left with two options. The first is your immediate termination.”

He closed his eyes. The air tasted bitter in his mouth. In, out.

“The second option is that you remain with this Order – but you must submit yourself to daily inspections and enquiries, and continue to wear some form of inhibitor to restrain the entity within you for the remainder of your natural life.”

Death, or imprisonment for life.

“Do you have any questions?”

Obi-Wan forced his eyes open and looked up, gazing around at the Council. Seven members were present in holographic form; the other four – including Mace and Yoda – were physically present. Only Obi-Wan’s seat remained empty. “In the event of the… termination,” he asked, voice hoarse, “what will happen to Anakin?”

Mace did not lower his steepled fingers. “He will be told that, during a medical procedure to save your life, there were complications. Our Healers were not able to save you.”

Obi-Wan restrained from flinching. Telling that to Anakin – anything to do with Obi-Wan’s death, no matter how padded and censored – would have horrific repercussions.

“Thankfully, this Council has chosen the second course of action. Skywalker will not be informed of any of this – least of all your condition.”

It did not escape Obi-Wan’s notice that at least five members were displeased with the ruling to let him live. It was not unanimous, then. He swallowed. In, out. The shard lodged deep in his chest felt cold. “What will happen if the entity… gets stronger?” he asked.

It was Oppo Rancisis who replied to this. “If we see evidence that the Dark Side is consuming you, you will be terminated without trial,” he said, his blue holoimage wavering.

“Aware that this is not your fault, we are,” Yoda said, indirectly rebuking Master Rancisis. He hopped out of his chair and hobbled over to Obi-Wan, his gimmer stick tapping the marble floor. Obi-Wan knelt before him on one knee, bowing his head, and closed his eyes again to hold back the rise of tears when Yoda touched his shoulder. “A dreadful thing to happen, this is, Obi-Wan. Sorry for this, I am.”

“I suppose that’ll teach me not to throw myself into explosions at archaeological sites,” Obi-Wan tried to joke weakly, but it fell flat and came out strained. Yoda just looked sad. He took a shuddering breath – in, out – and pressed his lips together. His chest throbbed, spiking in pain.

“In pain, you are.”

“Yes, Master.”

“To the Halls of Healing, you should go now. Speak with you later, Master Windu and I will.”

Obi-Wan nodded. Yoda walked back to his chair, and Obi-Wan rose and bowed to the Council, aware that he was being dismissed. “Thank you, Masters,” he murmured, not entirely sure what he was thanking them for. For deciding, by a slim majority, he didn’t have be euthanised, he supposed. Mace gestured, permitting him to leave, and Obi-Wan turned and walked out. The Sentinel guarding the door detached the chain linking his cuffs together, so he could move his hands now, but did not remove the cuffs themselves and the absence of the Force remained. The Sentinel accompanied him to the Halls of Healing, and even though Obi-Wan had left the poisonous atmosphere behind, he still could not breathe.

In. Out.

He raised his left hand and rubbed his chest. The shard throbbed.

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Ahhhhhh! Intense start! Great writing as always. I WILL cry if he's not okay by the end, lol. MORE

 

Thank you!! I'm so, so glad you liked the introduction! Poor Obi-Wan, I really make him suffer, don't I... Thanks so much for commenting! I'll be posting the next chapter soon. xx

 

chapter one​

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The Demon Moon​

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(three weeks earlier)​

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Dxun was a miserable excuse for a supposedly habitable moon, but Padmé Amidala could not deny its unique beauty. The rain had not abated once since setting up the camp five days prior, and all attempts to clear a spot in the dense green jungle were trivial at best. Her commlink had failed six times already, and the camp’s equipment was already running in backup power now that the main consoles were damaged by the atmospheric fluctuation and persistent rain. For all intents and purposes, she should have been upset at the very least, but the reason she was here kept her spirits high with hope.

The concept of a peace excavation – a joint effort between Separatist and Republic representatives to broker talks of a cease-fire – was outlandish, but Padmé wouldn’t be Padmé if she didn’t embrace it full-heartedly. It was Mina Bonteri, Senator of Onderon – Separatist-aligned worled – who’d reached out to her two months prior, claiming her people on Onderon had located an ancient temple on their moon of Dxun. Such a temple promised to hold important historical documents and information – artefacts that were valuable to the Republic and Confederacy alike.

“Padmé, come under here, you’ll get soaked!”

Padmé ducked her head as Mina brought the umbrella over both of them. “Thank you,” she laughed, brushed off the water from her poncho. “Have you had any luck getting the consoles back online?”

Mina shook her head, glancing over to the researchers. “Not yet,” she said, “but they’re hopeful.”

“Well, that’s something at least.”

“I’d be happier if the bomas stopped attacking for more than a few hours,” Mina said. “And happier still if those blasted cannocks didn’t eat our equipment.”

It still amazed her that a creature would willingly eat durasteel and metal. “Master Kenobi has been trying to keep them at bay,” Padmé said. “At least the perimeter deterrents are working now.”

The Republic, naturally, would not allow her to go into Separatist territory – let alone a jungle infested with dangerous creatures – without a protector; the very concept of it, in fact, had horrified the Chancellor, who’d immediately assigned a Jedi guardian for her despite protests. “Senator Bonteri will not allow any harm to come to me,” Padmé had insisted, but Palpatine wouldn’t hear of it. It wasn’t until she’d been told Obi-Wan was the one assigned to her – just out of recovery from an injury sustained on Kabaira – that she grudgingly accepted.

After all, it was good to see Obi-Wan again.

“Speaking of,” Mina murmured, gesturing to the entrance of the vine-covered and crumbling temple were Obi-Wan was waving to them to come over. “I think Master Kenobi has found something.”

They were yet to enter the temple itself; the last five days had been spent doing preliminary scans and excavations around the site (whenever the equipment was online and the rain wasn’t too heavy), but the entrance had been discovered last night. The thick jungle vines were most concentrated around the temple itself, so much so that from a distance it looked more like a hill than a man-made construction. The vines were thick and difficult to cut; the only thing that could successfully remove them was Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. He’d cleared more of the vines from the entrance, Padmé and Mina discovered as they approached him; his lightsaber was now clipped to his utility belt and his robes were soaking through with rain where he knelt beside the wall.

“Senators,” he greeted once they were beside him.

“Master Kenobi, you’ll catch a cold if you persist on standing out in the rain,” Mina scolded, but Obi-Wan just smiled infuriatingly in response and gestured to the wall, wiping the rain from his eyes with his other hand.

“I’ve found an inscription.”

“What does it say?”

“I cannot translate it,” Obi-Wan admitted, tracing his fingers over the chiselled ancient script. “It’s possibly an archaic dialect used by the Dxun natives. It might give us an idea of what the temple was used for –”

He cut his words short and withdrew his hand from the text suddenly, eyes widening. Padmé frowned and stepped forward, but Mina didn’t notice Obi-Wan’s discomfort.

“That’s over four thousand years ago,” Mina said.

Obi-Wan’s calm Jedi mask slipped back into place, quickly enough to make Padmé doubt she’d seen him troubled at all. “More,” he added. “I’m sure inside there’ll be a scroll or datapad of some kind we can use to translate the text. In the meantime…” He glanced at the wall. “I would like to contact the Jedi Council.”

Mina nodded. “I’ll bring one of the linguists over. Perhaps they’ll be able to decipher it before we get the permacrete detonators back online.”

She departed back to the main camp and left the umbrella with Padmé and Obi-Wan, which Obi-Wan kindly held over the both of them. “Why do you need to contact the Council?” Padmé asked, tugging her poncho around her.

Had she not known her friend for as long as she did, Padmé wouldn’t have noticed he was only pretending to look unconcerned. “Oh, just to keep them updated,” he said lightly, but she just frowned again.

“Obi-Wan.”

He glanced at her and his mask softened. “It’s nothing, Padmé. I just sensed a strong Force presence about the temple. It would account for the heavy foliage and violent animals around the area.”

“I thought the entire moon was like this,” Padmé said, eyeing the damp wretched place wryly. Poisonous plants, deadly creatures, constant monsoon weather. Obi-Wan chuckled.

“I think you may be right,” he said, gazing around at the soaked jungle. “Demon Moon, indeed.”

*​

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(now)​

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Obi-Wan’s greatest concern was that Anakin would notice there was something decidedly wrong with him when he returned from the Mid Rim with Ahsoka. Such as it was, when he turned on his commlink – returned to him by Vokara Che, now that he was not straddling the fence of life and death – he discovered no less than twenty-five messages left by Anakin. He listened to them, occasionally skipping them when Anakin’s voice became hysterical. They were all fairly similar – generic panic about his inability to sense him, anger at the Council for not telling him anything – and Obi-Wan finally cleared them all and sent back a simple message stating that he was fine, there was no need to panic, he had just sustained a minor injury and was in recovery. It wouldn’t settle Anakin at all, just make him panic more probably, but at least Obi-Wan could let him know he was still alive. For now.

Immediate termination.

The Sentinels guarding his secluded room in the Halls of Healing remained silent, not looking his way and not speaking to him at all, and their presence was difficult to ignore. They stayed guarding the door when Mace finally entered. The Korun Master looked tired and troubled, something which Obi-Wan could not fault him for.

“Obi-Wan,” he greeted.

If Obi-Wan were allowed to leave the bed, he would have stood and bowed. Vokara Che had threatened him with further sedation if he dared strain himself more, though, so he only bowed his head instead, sitting up propped up against the pillows. “Master Windu,” he replied. “I thought Master Yoda would be accompanying you?”

“He sends his apologies,” Mace said tightly, scowling deeply. “He is in discussion with the rest of the Council.”

No doubt it had to do with Obi-Wan’s condition, but Obi-Wan didn’t ask and Mace didn’t elaborate.

“How are you feeling?”

“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” Obi-Wan said, not sounding nearly as empty as he felt.

Mace could tell he was lying. “Has the entity made its presence known?”

Not that Obi-Wan had sensed. He shook his head, and not for the first time wondered what happened in the week following the incident on Dxun. They refused to tell him. Mace ‘hmmed’ to himself and took the seat beside Obi-Wan’s bed. He was clutching something in his hand.

“Anakin will sense I have been cut off from the Force,” Obi-Wan said, resisting the urge to wring his wrists.

“No, he won’t,” Mace said, presenting Obi-Wan with a simple metal bracelet. “Your midichlorian count has tripled since the incident. This band will restrict the abomination’s presence, and allow you complete control of your usual abilities without interference.”

“I’m surprised Masters Rancisis and Kolar agreed to that,” Obi-Wan admitted. Mace removed the cuffs and replaced the left one with the bracelet, and immediately Obi-Wan could feel the Force return to him slowly. After going three weeks without contact, it was like breaking the surface of an ocean, and he sucked in deep breaths of oxygen. In, out.

His chest ached.

Mace looked unimpressed when Obi-Wan mentioned the names of the Council members. “They are not so foolish as to think we can spare any Jedi at this point in the War. At least, I hope they are not.”

If the Council members who voted for his termination even considered him to be a Jedi anymore. Abomination. “What has become of the temple?” Obi-Wan asked, rubbing his right wrist now that the weight of the inhibiting cuff was gone. The shard in his chest seemed to pulsate, aware the restriction was lifted, but the bracelet on his left wrist held the monstrosity at bay.

“The Tomb of Freedon Nadd has been taken into Jedi custody,” Mace said. “With the cooperation of the Onderon government. Count Dooku, of course, is less than pleased with the peace talks.”

Of course.

“I didn’t… I didn’t even realise what it was until…” Obi-Wan said, and Mace frowned.

“It isn’t your fault, Obi-Wan.”

That’s what Yoda said, but Obi-Wan could not erase the glares of suspicion – even outright disgust – from the other Council members from his mind. “I should have sensed it,” he said. He had been to Zigoola, tasted the Darkness there. He should have known. It wasn’t until Mace gripped his arm that he realised he was rubbing his chest, trying to warm the ice-cold shard throbbing in time with his hammering heart.

“It isn’t your fault,” Mace said again, in that tone of voice that implied that was the end of the discussion.

Obi-Wan didn’t agree, but bowed his head in acceptance.

“You are to stay here for the rest of the week, under the care of the Mind Healers.” And under the custody of the Sentinels, just in case, though that part went unmentioned.

“And after that?”

“After that,” Mace said, standing to leave, “if we can determine the entity has been successfully contained, you will be allowed to reengage with the Order and resume duties in the War.” He grasped Obi-Wan’s shoulder, though Obi-Wan could sense a flicker of wariness and the grip wasn’t as reassuring as it used to be. “Rest. Recover.”

“Mace,” Obi-Wan said, halting him before he could leave. The Sentinels guarding the door imperceptibly tightened their hold on their lightsabers. Mace stopped and looked back at him. “The… thing, inside me. Do you know… who it is?”

Mace’s lips tightened. “No,” he said shortly. “Nor should you concern yourself with it.”

He left, and Obi-Wan was once again alone with only the silent Sentinels for company. He flexed his left hand, getting used to the Force returning to him in increments, and touched the bracelet. He found himself rubbing his chest again, trying to warm the icy darkness lodged in his heart.

Perhaps termination would have been more merciful.

 

Oh my god. What a thrilling beginning! You really do like to make Obi-Wan suffer and you've done it in such a way that living out the rest of his life will ensure he suffers. How could you be so mean??? I do, of course, look forward to more...

 

This looks like a fascinating yarn. What an awful situation to be in, even more so because there might be reason for all the precautions. It would be terrifying not to be able to trust yourself. I hope Obi-Wan can get back into the field eventually, because lingering on this is going to be hellish for him. So much worse if it means not being able to go out and do things because of being under constant watch. Ugh. Being monitored is scary in and of itself, I don't like it even in situations where it's a temporary thing (passing through security at the airport or whatever.) Hard to imagine being stuck with it, indefinitely.

 

Ahhhh! Poor poor Obi. I'm glad he has the Force back! I want to live on a rain planet ^_^ (With Obi)

 

Add me please, I'd like updates