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Ani Skywalker, y'all. RotS AU, assumes that Ani wasn't knighted during the war, assumes that Ani went to Kashyyyk with Yoda because she wasn't as close to Palpatine as Anakin was because she wasn't as easily manipulable (in love with Obi-Wan rather than in love with Padme). Here because I have no idea what to do with it.
Ani curled up on the bed as soon as they stepped inside the room, drawing her knees up to her chest and setting her back against the curved wall. Her hair was falling out of her Padawan braid and her eyes were swollen; she looked very young.
"I felt them die," she whispered. "It was -- I was them. Dying. I couldn't tell who I was."
"Ani," Obi-Wan began, going over to sit next to her. His hands were shaking; he closed them hard on his knees.
She shook her head furiously, braid whipping around her face. She'd thrown herself into his arms when he'd climbed out of Grievous's starfighter, face pressed into his shoulder and arms wrapped around his neck. Obi-Wan had held onto her, breathing into her hair and thanking the Force that she was alive and unhurt. He hadn't looked at Yoda, but he'd felt the old Master's eyes on him, silent and accusing.
Obi-Wan leaned over and cupped her face between his palms. Ani unfolded slightly, hands coming up to rest lightly on his wrists. "I want," she began. "Master, please. Please."
He was shaking, Obi-Wan realized dimly, and Ani was so still she could have been carved out of stone.
Over a thousand Jedi were dead and Ani Skywalker was sitting in front of him, asking like she had so many times before. There is no passion, there is serenity, Obi-Wan thought grimly, but the code also said, There is no death, there is the Force, and all he could feel was the weight of the murder of the Jedi. He leaned forward and kissed her.
Ani curled up on the bed as soon as they stepped inside the room, drawing her knees up to her chest and setting her back against the curved wall. Her hair was falling out of her Padawan braid and her eyes were swollen; she looked very young.
"I felt them die," she whispered. "It was -- I was them. Dying. I couldn't tell who I was."
"Ani," Obi-Wan began, going over to sit next to her. His hands were shaking; he closed them hard on his knees.
She shook her head furiously, braid whipping around her face. She'd thrown herself into his arms when he'd climbed out of Grievous's starfighter, face pressed into his shoulder and arms wrapped around his neck. Obi-Wan had held onto her, breathing into her hair and thanking the Force that she was alive and unhurt. He hadn't looked at Yoda, but he'd felt the old Master's eyes on him, silent and accusing.
Obi-Wan leaned over and cupped her face between his palms. Ani unfolded slightly, hands coming up to rest lightly on his wrists. "I want," she began. "Master, please. Please."
He was shaking, Obi-Wan realized dimly, and Ani was so still she could have been carved out of stone.
Over a thousand Jedi were dead and Ani Skywalker was sitting in front of him, asking like she had so many times before. There is no passion, there is serenity, Obi-Wan thought grimly, but the code also said, There is no death, there is the Force, and all he could feel was the weight of the murder of the Jedi. He leaned forward and kissed her.