Before the Saga Mischief Makers - 2021 Olympics Challenge - Mace, Qui-Gon, Taeyn (OC), Namia (OC) and Tara (OC)

1500 Word Dash:

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Consular and the Archivist
*


The sparring mats were relatively quiet for that time of the morning, only a class of initiates in the corner and some other padawans getting some training in before class started in earnest. Tara looked up from where she was stretching on the floor.

“So what did you get Master Dor for his birthday?” Namia asked as she patted her face down with a towel.

“What he most wants in the world,” Tara said and grinned.

“And that is?”

Tara shook her head, she glanced around to where the initiate class was practicing, their tiny brows furrowed in concentration. “I don’t think this is the right place to tell you. Little ears and innocence and all that.”

Namia raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

“When has that stopped you?”

“When Mace and I got in trouble for talking about something I shouldn’t have while Master Pynde-gard was nearby.”

“Was that because of the little ears or because of Master Pynde-gard? She’s not called the Krayt Dragon for nothing, you know.”

Tara grinned and blushed slightly. “Fine. Just sometimes I think that if he’s not careful Mace’s way with words will give him the same reputation one day.”

“I concur, although you didn’t hear it from me,” Namia said as she reached down and offered Tara her hand. The girl smiled shyly as she took it and pulled herself to her feet.

Namia felt the wave of emotions wash over her and had to stop herself from blushing in return. Tara had apparently missed the lesson in shielding her emotions, at least where desire was concerned.

Namia felt a twist of desire in return and made sure she held the other girl’s hand for just a second or two longer, revelling in the flush of heat and nerves that rolled through her.

“So you can’t tell me,” she said after a few long, tension filled seconds, “maybe you can show me?”

Tara smiled and then blushed harder, ducking her head as she did so.

“Sure, but you can’t tell anyone else. I don’t think Master Dor would be happy if it got out.”

Namia snorted. “Okay, now I really got to see this.”

They made their way quickly and quietly through the Temple. Occasionally Namia tried to press Tara for more information but her friend would just smile and tell her to wait.

As they rounded the last few corners, Namia reached out and took Tara’s hand, feeling the warm roughness of her calloused fingers. Tara paused at the touch and Namia could see how her muscles tensed. Namia went to pull her hand away but Tara only gripped her hand in return.

The Force shimmered and shook with the sudden tumult of emotions that surrounded and embraced them.

Namia smiled to herself, feeling her face heat as they climbed the last stairs to the apartments where the Masters and padawans lived.

Arriving at their door, Tara stopped and turned to Namia, letting go of her hand. Namia found her fingers reflexively grasping for the touch that was not there, longing for the warmth that had been there only a moment ago.

“Now, when we go in you can’t make any loud noises. You certainly can’t laugh,” Tara warned. Namia nodded in return. “You certainly can’t tell anyone. If this gets out to the rest of the Temple I’m going to know it was you. This took a lot of work to organise and I’m still not sure it was the right thing to do.”

Namia frowned. Tara was normally the one who pushed everyone into attempting what they’d been expressly forbidden to attempt. For her to have reservations about doing something must mean that it went against the Temple code. Something that would lead to censure by the Council or worse...

Her heart beat faster as Tara keyed in the entrance code and then tiptoed quietly into the apartment. Namia followed, desperately aware of any creak of the floorboards, or shuffled footstep on the carpet.

The apartment was mostly in darkness, despite the hour of the day. Ahead of them the living room was bathed in the eerie glow. Tara stopped as they reached the end of the corridor and motioned Namia to join her. Namia crept closer, touching her fingers against the edge of the door frame and sneaking a quick look into the gloom beyond. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as she noticed what exactly Master Dor was doing.

A solitary lamp cast a soft light around the chair on which the Jedi master sat in pensive silence, a small, thin book held reverently in his hands. Around him lay box upon box of other small, thin volumes. Some had spilled from their containers and lay disheveled on the floor. Their covers showed pictures of barely dressed Jedi, tunics torn in strategic ways that revealed bulging muscles as they scooped up barely dressed women, men and even the occasional twi’lek. Their titles were in equal parts alluring and terrible as they proclaimed things like “The hand of the Jedi” and “A Sith for love”.

Namia reeled back and stared at Tara, who was grinning at her. Namia opened her mouth but Tara raised one finger to her lips and shook her head before dragging Namia to her room.

The moment the door snicked closed behind them Namia turned to Tara who had collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles.

“Your face!” Tara managed to gasp between giggles. Namia winced and shook her head, barely believing what she had seen.

“Romance books? Master Dor reads romance novels?”

“Yes,” Tara spluttered as she collapsed onto her mattress. “Voraciously. Generally the worse the premise the more he loves them.”

“So you bought him boxes of them?” Namia frowned, “How did you afford that?”

Tara grinned. “Didn’t buy them. A Jedi does not have money, remember?”

“Okay, then how?” Namia asked. “Steal them? Mind-trick a book-seller into giving them away?” She paused as a horrified thought occurred to her. “You didn’t get someone to write them for him, did you?”

“Sort of? Let me explain properly.” Tara patted the spot on the mattress beside her and Namia tentatively sat down next to her, feeling the way the springs of the mattress slid them closer together. She was suddenly acutely aware of the heat between them.

From under the covers slid a small volume. The book's bright purple font announced it as “The Consular and the Shadow”. On the front two female Jedi seemed to have ended up in rather compromising positions as their tunics tore to reveal…

Namia felt her face flush with heat. She looked up to see Tara blushing furiously.

“I figured I should read one.”

“And?”

“It’s alright. I mean I…” Tara trailed away and Namia caught the wave of embarrassment that cascaded through the Force.

“Anyway, back to the story,” Namia said quickly, trying to erase her friend’s unease. “How did you get the boxes of books?”

Tara licked her lips nervously. “Well, you know that conference we had to go to last month?” Namia nodded. “Well, on the way we took one of the large passenger ships.”

“Part of Master Dor’s ‘observe the people’ thing?” Namia asked.

“Something like that. I think it’s just because he doesn’t like piloting our own ship, so this way he can say it’s for ‘research’ while in fact it’s for a comfy bed and a decent feed. Anyway, one of the people on the ship was the editor of A Galaxy of Love which publishes romance novels. We got to talking and I pitched the idea that if they wanted a good idea of how a Jedi would really behave, then maybe they should have a Jedi read them.”

“But you’re too young to read books like that,” Namia pointed out. Part of her felt she should be shocked by Tara’s audacity, but she’d long ago realised that in the face of a setback her friend would find a way around.

“That’s what he said. So I pitched that maybe Master Dor would be a better choice.”

“And?”

“And here we are? Davin gets his fill of books and the publishers get some feedback from a ‘real life Jedi’.”

“Isn’t it just work though? Doesn’t that mean Davin has to edit them, or make notes or something?”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “He’s not moved off that couch all night. I think he has choice paralysis as to where he should start. I think he’s as happy as a puffer pig in mud.”

Namia laughed. “You are amazing Tara Tarindae. Only you would do something like that.”

“Thank you. I do try. It means I have the rest of the day free. What would you like to do?”

“I don’t know, maybe we could try and recreate one of the scenes from The Consular and the Shadow.” The words were out before Namia could stop them. She didn’t know where the idea had come from, something about the covers had seemed to seep into her soul. Her friend was staring at her, her mouth opened slightly in shock. Then Tara smiled.

“I would like that,” Tara said softly. She reached out and gently took Namia’s hand. Namia was suddenly glad that the semi-darkness of Tara’s room meant her friend would not see how fiercely she was blushing.

 

Jedi romance novels? Love it!!

 

Jedi romance novels? JEDI ROMANCE NOVELS?!?!?

Okay, I'm all caught up on this thread and I'm loving it! I really enjoyed how you built the personalities of the characters (padawan!Qui-Gon in particular comes through in an basolutely fantastical way, being wiser and more reserved and staying polite in front of grumpy Dooku) but also the relationships between them and how they hover on the border of friendship as they experiment with growing up. I also really liked the background characters that appear here – Dooku again, but also that jerk Ryder who totally had it coming and, of course, Tholme:

This is a character I really enjoyed in Legends, and I thought his cameo here was spot-on.

My favourite elements so far were the adventure on Felucia (the world-building was superb) and the guessing game. I thought it was brilliant to have each segment start in the same way, but then pick up from the previous bit by having the character that has just been added chime in. And of course, Tara would glean her information from the comings and goings in the archives!

As a side note, I've skimmed through other bits and pieces of the Kit'verse in the past, but there was really no need to have read any of it to follow what happens here. These are great little standalone stories and a thoroughly enjoyable introduction to your characters.

 

Tara and Namia. Great with those Jedi romance novels. The Jedi should get better ideas reading them

 

Too tired too come up with a clever feedback for your last two updates. I liked them both. You are dambed good with action scenes and also can write fuffy stuff. Great writing in both cases.

 

Yeah! Who doesn't like a terrible romance novel? I'm writing a mills and boon inspired love story feature Obi-wan and Satine. I will be posting the G version here (when it's done of course)

This fic and another one meant I've written about 3000 words of a Mills and Boon Jedi Romance...which one day I'll actually finish

Thank you! Glad you're all caught up and have enjoyed the 'Kit-verse' so far Also very happy to hear that I'm getting the canon characters right, because that's my biggest fear and also the reason I end up writing so many OCs. Just get so worried about getting them wrong!

Aww, thanks I really like Tholme too, so he might make an appearance in other fics as well

Yay! *happy wiggle of excitement*

Obviously! That's the only perk of being in the archives. Davin would argue first access to a growing collection of Jedi romance novels (entirely for cultural research purposes of course) but gossip is good too.

I'm really pleased to hear that. Thank you for reading and commenting as well

I think they'd probably get a very weirded out perception of the ways that other people perceived them

Aww thank you so much. You really know how to make a girl feel good about herself Thank you for reading and commenting (and make sure you get some sleep too!)

 

110 Word Hurdle: 110 words in which the name or names of your character, family, friendship or couple aren’t mentioned.

Edit: This story has a rather obvious reference to Rule Maker (an earlier fic)

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Rule Breaker
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“There she goes again, falling in love. Not caring about how it messes with the rules of the Order.”

“Why do you think the rules are there?” Long, graceful fingers peeled the sunfruit carefully. They watched as the subject of their discussion booped her newly declared girlfriend on the nose.

“To make staying in the path of the light easier.”

The answer was met only by a raised eyebrow and a sardonic smile.

The younger one glared. “Why do you think the rules are there?”

“People sat in a room and made rules to make their own lives easier.”

“You really think it’s that simple?”

“You really think it’s that mystical?”

They glared at each other. Across the room the two girls giggled.

 

Simple Jedi-rules led to their demise

 

“People sat in a room and made rules to make their own lives easier.”

“You really think it’s that simple?”

“You really think it’s that mystical?”

You have Terry Prachett like dialogues. Full of fun and glee, yet deeply philosophical...

 

Those darn Jedi rules! Good work.

 

I definitely reckon so. Also one of my favourite ideas to play with - that for the want of a nail (or a better set of rules) a kingdom was lost! Thanks for reading

Aww, that's the loveliest thing you could say. Thank you so much. I can only aspire to his awesomeness with dialogue and world building

Yep, so annoying and so, so pedantically adhered to! Maybe Yoda's mantra should have been that rules lead to the darkside!

 

200 Freestyle: A 200 word story about your character, family, friendship or couple with a free choice of any theme.

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Kintsugi
*

She wore them like pink and silver lace. The scars patterned her; some had a clear start and finish, others wound their way across her clear, pale, velvet skin crossing others until their true start and finish was lost. It was if Tara had been a precious vase that had been dropped and carefully glued back together. Sometimes Tara felt that was exactly what she was, a vessel that had once contained so much, dropped and then regathered. Pasted and glued back together but missing the essence she had once contained.

She traced her fingers over them, remembering the softness of Namia’s mouth as she had kissed them. It was as if she had left a tiny trail of love to glue the last pieces back together. Tara shivered. She could not see either the scars or Namia, the mission that had patterned her body with pain had also robbed her of her sight. She remembered what she’d felt like through the Force though, the deep and abiding love that had filled her to her core, had found an opening for the pain that had been tied to her with each stroke of the knife, with every lash of the whip, with every touch of…

She shivered again.

There would be no more kisses. No more enveloping love. Namia was gone. The space that she had always been was empty and dark. Namia had been taken but Tara would persevere.

That’s what a Jedi was afterall.

Perseverance made flesh.

Tara smiled and pulled on her robes, feeling the fabric rub against the scars. That’s what Namia had taught her. That’s what the lesson had been when she’d returned from that mission all broken and torn.


Perseverance.


And love.

 

touching. Maimed and a great loss. But she will persevere

 

Hard loss for Tara to cope with, but I'm sure she will push through and be that much stronger for it.

 

Well. I didn't expect that this series of stories about our little group of happy-go-lucky mischief-makers would take such a tragic turn I think that your last entry hit me all the harder because of the contrast to the previous one – one moment they were falling in love, and the next one of them was gone.

This was absolutely beautiful in its sadness, as was the description of the scars earlier in the same paragraph.

Now I'm curious as to what happened to Tara and Namia to lead to this point. Is this something you've written in another story, or is that still a work-in-progress?

 

She definitely will. Thank you for reading

She will. It takes a long time, but she gets there eventually. Thank you for reading

There's two stories (one not completed) that explains what's happened (sort of) to Tara...one day I'll get back to it and finish it too.

Tara being rescued - From the darkness monsters come... (Evil Unfinished. Tara - OC)
Post rescue - Schnik. Snikt. Swish. (OC - Tara Tarindae | One shot)
Recovery - Hollow (Latin Roulette)
Recovery - Threshold | Douglas Adams Quote Challenge | OC Fic (Tara)

There is more Tara/Namia (Tamia) stuff but it's mostly on A03.

Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it and that it worked

 

Single Sentence Shot Put: A story told in a single sentence about your character, family, friendship or couple.

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Bow
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Mace knew a Jedi should not form attachments, but somehow as he stroked the rough and frayed edges of the pink bow he found he could not bring himself to discard it and all it represented - five padawans once so full of life, now reduced down to two - one broken and blind; the other clinging so hard to the light he did not know anymore where the Jedi ended and the person began.

 

Sorry for neglecting this. Life has gotten hectic

 

Mace is good at voicing his thoughts

 

Thanks for reading @earlybird-obi-wan and yeah, in this situation at least, Mace is being very self-reflective.

 

Last story

Background - Last Olympics I made the AU of Noonflower, where Taeyn had never gone to find the flower. It was lovely and sweet and I really enjoyed playing in that space where he became Kithera's Master and they led another life.

This time I've done the same thing. Same event - noonflower - but with a different spin. So much of the current Kit'-verse comes from the decision that Taeyn made that day. Without that there would be no Lady, sweet and gentle F'kisi's life would spiral further out of control until he did something truly stupid. There would be no Nicco or Ester, No twins, No Quin., and there would be no Zallie either. Everything hinges on it being Taeyn that went on that mission, on it being Taeyn that is captured by the Mukdah and survives to become Del. Everything hinges on this one event...

Everything...

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AU Archery: A story of at least 100 words set in an alternate universe with your character, family, friendship, or couple.

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Sweetie
*

“I’m sorry padawan,” Taeyn said quietly as he watched his padawan kick the blue walls of the force-field that held them, “I really wasn’t planning on this happening. I certainly didn’t expect that many droids, or the poisonous gas.”

“Really Master?” She paused mid-kick and glared at him. “I kind of figured that getting captured by a mad woman hell-bent on the destruction of a kingdom was really on your list of things to do today.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“At least you haven’t lost your sense of sarcasm, considering the circumstances.”

“Didn’t think I had much choice. Being your padawan for the last six years has honed it into some sort of shield. Without it I think I might die.” She placed the back of her hand onto her forehead and pretended to faint. After a second she turned her face towards him, opened one eye and grinned.

“Ha. Very droll,” he said patiently, “but you seem to forget we’re literal prisoners here Kitkit. Save your theatrics for when we need it.”

She straightened, giving him an embarrassed smile. He watched her mouth twist slightly and knew she was biting the inside of her lip like she always did when she was nervous. The sarcasm and the overly happy act was just a cover for the fact his padawan spent most of her life worried that someone would see through the mask to the vulnerable girl beneath. She pointed up towards the walls where he could see heavy, gilt framed portraits staring down at them. The heavy gilt frames suited the rest of the cold, dark stone hall. Taeyn wondered if there were real-estate agents who specialised just in housing for crime-lords and thus always suggested stone flooring, dark wood paneling and heavy furniture.

“What do you think those are?” Kithera asked quietly.

Taeyn followed her pointing finger to the three paintings. The person in the middle one, the largest by far, was obscured from view by a heavy, marble pole that propped up the huge, vaulted ceilings of where they had been taken. The other two contained paintings of humanoid creatures that Taeyn had never seen before. The parts of them that weren’t covered in thick clothes were distinctly lizard like.

“I don’t know padawan, and to be honest I’d rather not find out.”

“They remind me of those creatures that Master Pynde-gard used to tell us about,” Kithera said, staring at them. “You know as part of the stories we’d get told as initiates in the creche. I’m sure she would have told you too, Master.”

“I remember,” Taeyn said, frowning at the memory. “Stories about Force-eaters who looked like lizards and ate a Jedi’s powers. Mukdun or Mukdah, or Moonduns or something.” He shook his head slightly to dislodge the memory and the sudden sense of unease. “Don’t worry padawan, they were just stories. Master Pynde-gard likes to scare children before they go to sleep, it certainly isn’t something real.”

Kithera nodded, although he could still see her chewing on her bottom lip.

“I’m sure you’re right, Master, although the lady in the middle also looks familiar.”

“How do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I think I’ve seen her somewhere before, that’s all.”

“I’m sure you’ll work it out, padawan. Just have faith in yourself.”

There was a hush of a door sliding open somewhere behind them and then the sharp, tap-tap of high heeled shoes walking across the stone floor. He raised both eyebrows at his padawan, a sign for her to watch and listen. She nodded slightly and stared straight ahead.

Taeyn watched the woman come into view, flanked by two heavy-set men who had obviously answered a job advertisement for ‘henchmen’ and took their employment seriously. She was dressed in an ornate and beautiful dark green silk dress, her hair coiled into a bun, and heavy gold earrings swung gracefully as she moved. His breath caught in his throat and he couldn’t figure out why - normally being captured by crime-lords didn’t have this effect on him.

She reached the cold, stone steps in front of them and turned, the dress swishing around her ankles. He expected the henchmen to take up positions on either side of her, but instead they stopped next to his padawan’s cage. One of them carried a small collar, the other one some sort of device. The second one stared at his padawan, smiled and then pressed a series of buttons.

She screamed.

Taeyn threw himself against the side of his prison as Kithera writhed on the spot screaming in agony. The henchman smiled again and his over-large thumb prodded another button. The sides of the prison came down and Kithera fell with it, convulsing as she did so. The first guard stepped forward and grabbed her, fastening the collar around her neck with surprising tenderness. They stepped away from her, leaving her sobbing and pale faced on the cold, stone floors.

“Padawan? Are you alright?” he asked. She nodded and reached up to touch the collar.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” the woman said, “not unless you like pain.”

Her voice was strangely familiar and Taeyn realised that he’d been so focused on what was happening to Kithera that he’d forgotten entirely about the woman. His padawan’s hand paused in mid-air. “Good work, padawan,” the woman continued, her voice silky-smooth and eerily comforting, “I’m glad to see a girl well-trained.” Taeyn watched Kithera move slightly and frown in confusion. The woman laughed. “Oh no. You can’t touch the Force, not with that thing on. It’s the perfect item for capturing a Jedi; no access to the Force and pain for you if you go against my wishes. Now stay where you are like a good pup, your Master and I have many things to discuss and even more to catch up on.”

Taeyn frowned sharply. There was the sharp click of high heels against stone again and he realised that she was walking towards them. He turned his attention back to the woman, even though he wanted desperately to check that Kithera was okay. Now the woman was closer; she looked even more familiar.

She almost looked like - No.

He brushed it aside. She was dead. They’d found Master Samukay’s body on that mountain and assumed she’d died in the snow trying to reach help.

“Don’t you remember me?” the woman asked, “Knight D’levosh?”

He frowned at her and then shook his head slightly. Even though he suspected it was her, he did not want to give the game away. Not yet.

“I’m sorry my lady, I’m afraid I don’t.”

She sighed dramatically and looked affronted. She took more steps until she was right against the bars and sighed again. “And to think that we were once in love.”

“I thought my love had died,” he said quietly.

She smiled but there was no warmth in her eyes. “And that is why you stopped looking?”

“I was a padawan. I had no power to keep up the search.”

“I was once told that a Jedi can move mountains, if he so chooses. And yet you did not even search the mountain for me.”

“Just because I did not spend forever searching, doesn’t mean I ever forgot.”

“Ahh Taeyn,” she laughed, a delighted giggle that was at odds with everything else. “I’m glad to see you finally learnt the Jedi way with words. Here I was thinking you’d grow up to be a rather taciturn and dour Jedi, but you aren’t. That makes this whole game more interesting.”

“Game?” He watched her carefully, trying to work out what she wanted but came up empty.

“This?” she swept her hand in a wide arc to take in the room, “you being here with your padawan. The henchmen, this rather odious setting. All because I wanted to see you again.”

“You wanted to see me?” he asked, “last time I checked you didn’t try to kill your friends with an army of droids and then lock them in a cage.”

She stilled, giving him a tiny frown as if she couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“Friends? When did I say we were friends?”

He could have kicked himself.

“We were friends,” he tried valiantly.

“Were is the operative word. Were. Then I was lost and I imagine the Jedi wrung their hands and gnashed their teeth and then promptly stopped looking. I bet you moved on soon after my disappearance. No relationships or connection, just like a good Jedi.”

He shook his head. “You’d be wrong on that count. I never moved on. How could I?.”

She scowled when he used her name. She shook her head slightly and opened her mouth but there was a movement near the floor. She flicked a finger towards a henchmen who pressed a button and there was another howl of pain from his padawan.

“Naughty pup,” she said looking down to where Kithera was lying on the floor, “I told you not to move. Just because you and your Master can’t use the Force, doesn’t mean we all can’t.”

“You’re a Jedi?” He heard his padawan hiss.

“Was, sweetie. Was a Jedi. I’m surprised that your Master never mentioned me.”

“Padawan, this is Namia.” Taeyn said emphasising her name and hoping that even in her pain-addled state Kithera would be wise enough to cotton on.

“Namia,” Kithera mumbled and then raised an eyebrow, “I thought you looked familiar. You’re the padawan in the old holos that my Master has.”

“Really?” Namia asked and Taeyn could see the pleasure on her face, “I suppose he’s told you all about me.”

“Yes,” Kithera said slowly, sitting up, making a show of keeping her hands away from her collar. “Anytime he talks about growing up in the Temple he talks about you.”

Namia laughed again, that same giggle. She turned to Taeyn.

“Your padawan is delightful. She will make a fine apprentice.”

“Make?” Taeyn asked. “She already is my apprentice. A state she will continue to enjoy once we are out of here.”

Namia scrunched her nose slightly and laughed again.

“Who said you’d be getting out of here?” She bent down and ran one finger down Kithera’s cheek. Taeyn watched his padawan squirm uncomfortably and then Namia was straightening. “You know, the one thing I missed about being a Jedi, is never being able to take an apprentice. I was rather looking forward to that. Being knighted and having my own apprentice.”

“I won’t be your apprentice,” Kithera said quietly, “I’d rather die.”

Taeyn groaned. Offering to die was generally considered a bad move to make when dealing with a crime boss.

“Oh sweetie, you aren’t going to die,” Namia said, “I’ll make sure of that. You see, I'm going to give you a choice. The same one that I was given at your age. Choose your Master or choose your own life.”

He watched his padawan’s shoulders drop. Taeyn shook his head, barely believing what he was hearing as a strange sense of fear rolled through his stomach.

“What do you mean?” Kithera’s voice was a whisper. Namia ignored her and walked back towards the steps at the end of the hall. She clicked her fingers and the henchman who had been holding the collar lumbered forward to drag a chair from the shadows. Namia sat down, carefully arranging her skirts so that she was exposing one long, tanned leg.

“I wonder if your Master ever told you the circumstances of my disappearance.”

Kithera shook her head. Taeyn could see her chewing the inside of her bottom lip again as she studied the situation.

“Well, Knight D’levosh now is the time,” Namia said. She pressed a button and there was the sound of a far-off bell.

“You were searching for the noon-flower,” Taeyn said quietly.

“And who was I going to bring that back to?”

“Me,” he said quietly.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Who was I bringing back the mythical noon-flower for?”

“Me.” This time his voice was louder. He glanced down at where his padawan was sitting. “I’m sorry padawan.”

“Don’t talk to her. She’s listening to my story about how the Jedi forgot I existed when it suited them.”

“We didn’t forget. I didn’t forget.”
“So you keep saying. And yet your padawan doesn’t even know that I disappeared in search of the flower to bring back to my supposed true-love.”

Taeyn glanced at his padawan and then back at Namia.

“She went to get a noon-flower because I teased her that they didn’t exist. Master Tarindae, Tara back then, had found a note about it in one of the old books. Namia said she’d convince Master Samukay to go, and bring me back one of the flowers that bloomed in the snow.”

“Which I did,” Namia said. A door opened somewhere and a young woman came in carrying a platter with a drink and a small plate of food on it. Taeyn couldn’t help noticing that she wasn’t wearing very much and also wore one of the same collars as his padawan. Namia took the plate and the cup and then motioned the girl to sit at her feet. Namia took a sip of her drink, smiled and then continued the story. “And then I went missing and the Jedi decided that searching for a single padawan in the snow wasn’t worth their while.”

“We searched for months,” Taeyn said, scowling.

Namia sighed and rolled her eyes. “Do you know what happened on that trip, little padawan?”

“You turned to the darkside?” Kithera said, making a face. Taeyn winced but Namia just laughed.

“Oh and she has character,” she leant forward in her chair, “I can’t wait to break you of that particular habit, my little pup.”

“So what happened?” Taeyn asked. Maybe, he reasoned, if he kept her talking then she’d slip or he’d work out some way to get out of this predicament.

“It was all fine until the Mukdah arrived. You remember Mukdahs don’t you? Master Pynde-gard used to tell us about them.” Taeyn could feel Kithera staring at him. “Well,” Namia continued, “turns out they are not as mythical as you were led to believe. Another lie told by the Jedi.”

She paused to take a nibble of a biscuit and a sip of her drink. “They captured me and then my Master. Master Samukay was hurt so I gave them a choice. I’d go with them willingly and they’d save him.”
“And they?” Taeyn said softly. They’d found Samukay’s body on that mountain.

“They laughed at me. Said that I had a choice to go with them or they’d kill us both.”

“And you went with them?”

“Of course. I’m still alive aren’t I?” She smiled. “They killed Samukay after they fed on him. They eat the Force you know. If they are not careful they’ll strip a being entirely away from it. They were going to sell me into slavery, but I managed to convince them that I would be a better mouthpiece than a slave. I taught them to be careful and I made sure they were appropriately fed.”

“I don’t see them around,” Taeyn said. “Why not come back to the Jedi when you had the chance?”

Namia laughed again. “To do what? To live in that stuffy Temple? To take Orders from a Council so out of touch with the rest of the galaxy that they don’t know what they really could achieve if they actually put their minds to it? An Order that denies people their base need to have relationships, to feel another’s touch, to love and be loved in return?” She leant down to run her fingers through the hair of the girl who was sitting at her feet. The girl looked up and smiled at Namia adoringly. “What kind of life would that be?”

“And now you have us,” Taeyn said quietly, “We know your story. What do you plan to do with us?”

“Did you not listen again?” Namia asked, scrunching her nose slightly. She passed the cup and the plate back to the girl before she rose and walked down the stairs towards them. “Like I said before, I’m going to give your padawan a choice. If you become my apprentice willingly then both of you live.” She paused as she got to where Kithera was still sitting and bent down slightly. Placing two fingers under Kithera’s chin, she pressed upwards until the girl was standing. “However, if you refuse or do something silly then I’ll feed your Master to the Mukdah and keep you as a slave until you learn obedience.”
“And if I don’t learn?” Kithera’s face was a calm mask.

Namia shrugged. “The Mukdah are always hungry.” She glanced across at where Taeyn was standing, still imprisoned. “And don’t even dream of lying to her that the Jedi will come looking. They didn’t for me, so I very much doubt they will for you.” Namia sighed as she glanced between them. “I’ll give you a few moments to decide, shall I? To me the choice would be easy, but then I’m not bound by Jedi rules.”

Kithera stared at him. He tried to smile.

“Don’t listen to her Kitkit, you do what you need to survive. I’ll be fine whatever happens.”

“Oh and you have a pet name for her!” Namia almost squealed, clapping her hands with derisive glee before sobering. “How adorable. I’m looking forward to seeing how this all pans out.”

He ignored her and tried for another smile. Kithera took two steps towards him and looked up through the bars of the cage.

“I need you to stay alive,” she said quietly, “I have to make this choice. I have to go with her. I’m sorry Master.”

He shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry little one. I’ll get out of here, Kitkit and then I’ll make sure I find you. I promise,” he whispered.

“No whispering,” Namia snapped, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t like it when Jedi keep secrets. Make your decision and make it now. Your time has run out.”

“I’ll go with you,” Kithera said firmly, turning and staring her down. “I want to see what you believe is worth more than being a Jedi.”

“Good pup,” Namia said smiling, “and an interesting choice.” She flicked her hand as if swatting an annoying fly.

The guard with the control pad prodded another button. The bars that held him prisoner disappeared. Taeyn nodded once and took a step forward-

The pain arced through him.

He could hear his padawan shouting. Through tear filled eyes, he saw one of the henchmen catch her in his muscle-bound arms and hold her still despite her struggles. The pain of hitting the floor was nothing compared to that which seared through every inch of his body. A rough hand grabbed him and he felt the cold metal clip of a collar around his neck and then suddenly the world was still and icy as the Force evaporated. The pain didn’t stop though, sliding down his spine until he could barely think. Panting, he pushed himself up onto his hands. His padawan was being held off the ground by one of the henchmen and Namia was regarding them both.

“You said you’d let him go,” Kithera snapped, still kicking him.

“No, padawan mine. I said I’d let him live. I just didn’t say where.” Namia snapped. Taeyn felt the henchmen who’d slipped the collar on him move again. He was pulled roughly to his feet, and cuffs placed on each wrist. “Now,” Namia said, “let me be very clear, my padawan,” she ran her fingers through Kithera’s hair before grabbing it forcefully and pulling his padawan’s head close to her’s. “I’m keeping him so that I know you’ll behave. You think of doing something heroic or stupid and I’ll invite my Mukdah friends for dinner. You do the right thing and he lives, and you can entertain the thought of killing me until the day you realise that you’re having far more fun now that you are not a Jedi.”

He watched his padawan’s face as tears slipped down her cheeks. Internally Taeyn cursed himself for not being able to save her. Namia motioned and the henchman placed Kithera carefully on the ground where she stood glaring at Namia as if she could set her on fire. Namia turned.

“Come padawan,” she announced imperiously. Kithera stood still for a moment, glancing at Taeyn. Namia clicked her fingers and Kithera shook her head before following dutifully. At the door, padawan still behind her, Namia turned and looked at her henchmen.

“Make sure the new slave knows his place, but don’t kill him. I would like to have some fun with him later.”

Taeyn watched his padawan walk through the door and disappear. He did not care when the first blow came.

 

What a cruel Namia. And Taeyn horrible to see Kit becoming a slave

 

Thank you @earlybird-obi-wan for your comments (and yeah, it's a pretty awful ending for Kit) and for reading and commenting. It's really appreciated