The Force Always Says Yes [Star Wars]

[Hyenanon]

It does feel abrupt, but certainly not unexpected. Between all the plot threads being tied up, and Master Fay finally showing up, it felt obvious that this was the end.

It does leave me wishing for more (those characters are so attaching!), but at the same time it is very satisfying.

Click to shrink...

It's really quite hard for me to move on! I am very attached to these characters as well. Still, there is more coming, and if I ever feel sad about it I can always come back at random times and just add an extra vignette. That's the nice thing about publishing fanfiction in such a format.

… either Darth Tenebrous retrieved Fae Coven's corpse to give to his apprentice, or I'm imagining things.

Click to shrink...

As hilarious and deeply disturbing as that would be, no, Laura Lie is a real reporter (who just made it big in her career from that interview!). She was subtly directed towards Nerim by Carrion, but Nerim would have been tipped off strongly by the Force if it was Fae's body, and also Carrion took her undercover status too seriously to come up with a name as silly as Laura Lie.

For the record, I came up with the name as a homophone of "lorelei", a type of faerie, since Fae was so on-the-nosedly named Fae Coven.

 

[Hyenanon]

Epilogue: Every Stanza Kinda Rhymes With The Last One​

Generally at about 2 PM every day, all of the words began to run together, and the lonesome Padawan found it impossible to read any more. The datapad laying on the table in front of him might as well have been written in Jawaese.

It wasn't that he hated reading. But he couldn't shake the feeling that this reading was some sort of punishment. He had told his Master not less than a month ago he had decided upon becoming a Jedi Guardian, a specialist in the ways of war and combat. Since then, his curriculum had rapidly changed, and become...much more academic.

His Master, being a Consular, seemed quite comfortable with this new pace. And it was generally his experience that whenever he and his Master disagreed on something—which was all the time—he would receive some sort of subtle punishment intended to make him learn something. Well at this point, all subtlety had gone out the window. He was actively given the exact opposite of what he had asked for, and seeing as both of them were stubborn as a pair of krayt dragons, neither had verbally acknowledged the situation.

Rubbing his eyes and breathing in the cool air of the Archives, a thump in the seat next to him reminded him that he was in fact in a physical space, even if his body had grown sore and tight from doing nothing but sitting in place and reading.

"Hey, Kenobi!" The Padawan beside him greeted happily. It was the voice of Ssesh Apo, a Gados he was on friendly terms with.

"Hello there," Obi-Wan responded with undisguised fatigue.

"What are you reading?" Ssesh asked curiously.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, blinking the stars out of his vision. "Just research. Master Qui-Gon tasked me with writing an entire dissertation."

"Oh? About what?" The Gados pressed. Kenobi sometimes wondered if Ssesh would have rather been reassigned to the Jedi Education Service Corps, given the being's fondness for books.

"The 19 Lost," Obi-Wan answered mechanically. "He says it is imperative for any Jedi to study the Lost, to better confront their own doubts and inner struggles with darkness and..." Obi-Wan trailed off, staring blankly at the words upon words upon words upon words that melted together into a sort of abomination like chocolate forgotten in one's pocket.

"Uh...?" Ssesh tilted his head.

Obi-Wan blinked. "Anyways, I'm almost done with the research. I'm already halfway through reading about the last one," he said, pointing over his shoulder. There was a bronzium statue directly behind him, a bust depicting the face of a surprisingly jovial looking Mirialan woman with hair drawn back in a bun fixed with two sticks.

"Oh!" Ssesh gave him a signature goofy Gados smile, revealing his buck teeth. "How fortunate, given your mission! Hey, while you're there, can you get me—"

"Wait, what mission?" Obi-Wan interrupted, suddenly snapped back awake.

"You know, the mission to Cathar?" Ssesh repeated, his big confused eyes glinting with solid orange light. "I learned about it from Master Nu. You're going there, right?"

Obi-Wan stared silently at him for a few moments. "...How am I always the last person to know these things...?"

___________________________________________________________________________________



Obi-Wan stood near the exit of the starship, tapping his foot impatiently. Somehow Master Qui-Gon had managed to get aboard the ship before him, and then slept the entire way—Obi-Wan still hadn't even seen him since the day before they left, and now they were waiting on the tarmac for him to arrive so they could disembark.

After much foot-tapping, Qui-Gon Jinn emerged from his quarters, hair somewhat unkempt and robes wrinkly. Obi-Wan frowned tightly at him, and the Master smiled.

"Ah, good to see you, Apprentice."

"Master," Obi-Wan said, before pausing, and restarting the sentence several times in his head. "What are we doing here?" He finally settled on, proud that he did not have to use profanity.

Qui-Gon smiled in the way that Obi-Wan knew meant he wasn't about to explain anything promptly. "I've managed to arrange a rather fortunate set of circumstances. How goes your study on the 19 Lost?"

The Padawan's frown deepened. "I've just about finished consulting the primary sources on all of the Lost."

"So you're aware of the history behind Arwain Ash-Kan?" He asked, lowering the boarding ramp, allowing piercingly bright sunlight and warm, dry air into the ship's hold.

"Yes, I'm about half finished with her," Obi-Wan answered uneasily. "It's said that she renounced the Order during a hearing in which her Padawan was exiled, due to his actions on Cathar. Are we undertaking some sort of...archaeological expedition?"

"Hah! Watch your tongue, you could offend him, saying something like that," Qui-Gon smirked, trundling down the ramp.

"Him?" Obi-Wan tilted his head.

"So the research isn't going that well, I take it."

"I told you, I'm only half-finished!" The Padawan pouted.

"Well, tell me everything you do know," Qui-Gon said, nodding graciously as they passed the dockworkers.

Obi-Wan placed a hand to his chin and thought. "Some argue that she shouldn't count as a Lost, since she was technically exiled as a Padawan. The previous Grand Master, Fae Coven, apparently took her back in as a protege for a time. She was a notorious gray Jedi..." He paused for a moment, shooting a look at Qui-Gon, who innocently looked in the opposite direction. "...And she trained a Padawan named...Nerim, I believe?"

"That much is correct."

"Well, this Nerim fellow ended up in a fight with another Padawan on Cathar, and was exiled thereafter. Ash-Kan renounced the Order during the verdict. The primary overview by Archivist Soo-Yoo suggests she was emotionally compromised by many factors, including the death of the Grand Master Fae Coven."

"Do you happen to know anything else about 'this Nerim fellow'?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I mean, I was going to look into it...But all I know is that he fell to the Dark under her watch."

"Hm. Well, he was also notorious in his time at the Order. Primarily because he struggled with most aspects of Jedi teachings, except for the fact that he was an exceptional duelist, who won the Initiate Tournament in a worrying manner..." Qui-Gon shot a look at Obi-Wan, who innocently looked in the opposite direction. "...Of course, his story did not end with his exile."

"He didn't get up to anything horrible, did he?" Obi-Wan said with transparent hope, that something interesting would come of this. The first twelve or so of the Lost were at least fun to read about in regards to their fall to the Sith and ultimate comeuppance. The next several under the rule of Fae Coven had been some of the most dry, philosophical, and unbearably reasonable books he had ever been forced to read, often concerning political disagreements or scandals that fell flat to him in the modern day, akin to the hullabaloo around the first debates on lifting taxation in the Outer Rim.

"Horrible is a point of view, Obi-Wan," his Master replied, squinting in the bright light and pointing to the City Tree they were approaching. "But when all was said and done, he more or less reconciled with the Order. Or had a peace treaty with them, at any rate. He was employed by the Cathar royal family to train their honor guard, which is one of the most competent of such institutions in the Galaxy...Anyway, the Order needed to send some Master to Cathar to check up on things, and usually I'm the one who goes. I figured it would be a good opportunity for your dissertation, as well as your training as a Guardian."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened as he felt a tingling in his spine. "Are we going to visit the institution?"

"Yes."

"C-can I train with the honor guard?" Obi-Wan asked, suddenly forgetting all his frustrations with his Master.

"Yes," Qui-Gon answered warmly. "If we can convince them, that is."

Obi-Wan looked up at the titanic tree in wonder. "Do you think some of the people who Nerim trained are still there?"

"Most certainly."

"Only one degree of separation from a Dark Jedi..." Obi-Wan also squinted in the sunlight as it filtered through the great branches of the tree. He had already had the rare experience of a true fight with a fallen Jedi, more than once, and it was as harrowing a thing as he could imagine. He had won, but not without a cost—not without deaths that could have been avoided. Any chance to improve, without risk or emotional unbalancing, would be precious to him.

The climb up the tree took some time, in which he acquired a not insignificant amount of Cathar hair on his robes, much to his chagrin. They briefly met with the chieftain of the Cathar, who warmly welcomed them as Jedi friends and respected guests. Qui-Gon did most of the talking, while Obi-Wan tuned out the diplomatic language and set his focus on the honor guards flanking the Elder. They were tall and imposing, with polished armor made of a green hued stone that Obi-Wan couldn't quite identify, which looked shockingly almost...Mandalorian, in nature. They carried each a blaster carbine, as well as a pistol at their hip, and a short vibroblade sheathed on the opposite side.

Eventually, he was dragged out of the room and away from the objects of his interest, and taken—predictably—to a garden. Qui-Gon simply could not get enough of gardens, and it frustrated Obi-Wan to no end. He supposed it was pretty, at least, with a large open-air landing on the side of the tree looking out on the endless savanna, and crisscrossing branches above and around him. Not that he was in a mood to enjoy it.

"Must we?" Obi-Wan asked, fatigued. "I already performed daily meditations on the ship. While you were sleeping."

"Extra meditations don't hurt, Obi-Wan," his Master said dismissively, sitting on a bench beside a rather expansive collection of flowers.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and sat down, closing his eyes to meditate. A moment later, he began fidgeting. "What kind of combat did Nerim teach?"

"Lightsaber combat," Qui-Gon answered simply.

The Padawan's eyes shot open. "Lightsaber? To outsiders?"

Qui-Gon smirked, still with closed eyes. "I'm not surprised you don't know. It's not a story the Jedi like to tell. We tend to de-emphasize our smaller schisms. Suffice it to say, Cathar has a number of special exemptions, and you ought not embarrass us by jumping the gun. I promise you, there is nothing going on here that the Council is unaware of. In broad strokes."

"Broad strokes...?"

"Master Qui-Gon!" They heard a woman's voice greet the Master, and Obi-Wan looked to see her approach. It was a Cathar woman, appearing to be middle-aged, wearing the dress of the local nobility. She smiled. "You're here early."

Qui-Gon opened his eyes and slowly rose to his feet, and walked over to shake her hand. "Ah, good to see you, Temeia. Yes, I figured I would let my Padawan get the lay of the land."

"Oh, you have a Padawan now, is that right?" She looked over to Obi-Wan with an appraising glance and put her fingertips to her chin.

Obi-Wan bowed at the hip respectfully and stepped forward. "I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, pleasure to meet you."

Qui-Gon nodded his head to the boy. "He is quite interested in this planet's history. And its current status."

"Mm. I see. Wait, let me try," she said, placing two fingers to her temple and holding her other hand out, miming use of the Force. "I am sensing he wants to...spar with our Knights."

"Impressive," Obi-Wan said with a tight smile.

"How is it that you can so reliably identify bellicose Jedi?" Qui-Gon smirked jokingly.

"Well, it's quite simple. First, I eyeball if they're under 50 or not. Then I make an assumption."

"You wound me," Qui-Gon looked away with mock offense. "I don't look a day over, oh, 48."

"And isn't that true," Temeia said with a sly grin. Then she looked to Obi-Wan. "The Knighthood's headquarters is two floors up from here, son. You're free to introduce yourself."

Obi-Wan looked to Qui-Gon, who nodded. "Go ahead, just remember your manners."

"Thank you, Master!" Obi-Wan said, turning and walking quickly towards the door.

"After all, the Grand Master has been known to unleash great storms of lightning on rude guests," Qui-Gon added casually.

Obi-Wan froze for a second, and then kept moving. He found a set of stairs and climbed them, until finding his way across a plaza of sorts and seeing a grand set of double-doors with the words "Knights Of Cathar" engraved upon them. He breathed deeply, walked up, and then placed his hands to the wood and gently pushed.

To his surprise, the giant wooden doors moved easily on their hinges, and he entered into a large antechamber with a stone tiled floor and pillars running up to the high ceiling, which between the pillars ran with stained glass that cast down cascading light of myriad colors. He felt a calm move throughout him, like when he entered the Room Of A Thousand Fountains. The room was, however, otherwise empty. He was surprised by the aura of serenity, and stepped cautiously and quietly through the room, looking around for any sign of life. None of the doorways were labeled, to his dismay.

He moved forwards to the front of the room, where the wall ended in viridian glass and a raised platform one might speak to a crowd from. The pillars bore symbols of the Republic, but also others he did not recognize.

"Hey," a voice behind him spoke.

He whipped around, his heart racing, hands near his belt. The source of the sound was a young woman, apparently Human, with dark hair and black irises. He felt the flow of the Force through her, and looked down to see she did in fact have a lightsaber on her belt. "H-hello there," he said nervously.

The woman looked at him with an utterly blank, indecipherable expression. Her arms were crossed, but there was no emotion whatsoever on her face. "Are you...here for something?"

"Ah, I'm, well," he took a breath. "Excuse my manners." He bowed. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Padawan."

The woman stared at him. "Nice to meet you. I'm Tetha Nerim."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened at that. "Tetha Nerim, you say? Are you one of Nerim's descendants?"

She blinked slowly. "It's good to see the Coruscant Order are still sending their best and brightest."

"Well—I suppose it's obvious, but, you never know until you ask," Obi-Wan laughed nervously.

"Or until you receive an answer, for that matter," she said impassively. "What are you here for?"

"Ah, well, I was told—that is, I was hoping to humbly ask if I may sit in for some of the Cathar Knighthood's lessons, and observe for my own edification?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "I can take you to Grand Master Nerim now, if you wish. You can even ask him to teach you personally, if you'd like."

"Really?" Obi-Wan asked, intrigued. Although it was starting to become a pain that everyone here was apparently named Nerim. "That would be...quite an honor."

"Not a problem," she said, turning and leading him. "Of course, he's a very old and cantankerous man. I warn you, only speak when spoken to, or he will become very cross. Also, it's best to not make eye contact. Those who look him in the eye with disrespect...He has been known to pluck their eyes out."

Obi-Wan swallowed nervously. "I'll be sure to be on my best behavior. I can be quite charming, when I put my mind to it."

She lead him to a door and pushed it open, and immediately as she did so, two young children of a species he did not recognize rushed out laughing and screeching. They were so pitch black that he couldn't make head nor tail of them, but they rippled with golden bioluminescence, and each carried a bundle of fruits and cheeses. "Hey! I didn't say you could have all of them!" A voice shouted from within, a young man with a Coruscanti accent. "That's my lunch!"

The two children scampered away, and Tetha lead Obi-Wan into the room, which was a truly magnificent study, with walls lined in bookcases and deep red wood furniture arranged about to make for several comfortable reading places, along with a workbench that appeared to have a half-assembled lightsaber placed upon it, and a grand desk behind which sat a man around his own age, a Mirialan, who looked rather annoyed.

"I hate twins," the man muttered, picking up a cracker from his otherwise empty plate, and dropping it back down. "Twos. Trouble always comes in twos..."

Tetha leaned in and whispered. "That's the Grand Master."

Obi-Wan instantly averted his eyes down, his self-preservation overriding his shock. He shouldn't have come this far, he should have just sat in the corner of an exercise room or something. He moved forward and bowed stiffly and silently.

The room was quiet for a moment, and the Grand Master spoke. "Uh, hello there?"

Obi-Wan raised his head, but not his eyes, and nodded. "Greetings, Grand Master."

"Just Nerim is fine," the man said wearily. Obi-Wan did not respond. After a few moments, Nerim spoke again. "Is there something on my face...? Why are y—Goddamnit, Tetha. Hey, kid," he stood and snapped his fingers, "She's messing with you, you can make eye contact with me. It's fine."

Tetha broke out into cackling laughter, and Obi-Wan slowly raised his gaze, confused. "Sorry," he said.

The young man before him was bare-faced, rare for a Mirialan of high status, who usually bore many tattoos. He wore a rather casual seeming outfit of a dark green robe with an orange tunic beneath, which was similar to what the children who ran out were wearing. He had a friendly smile and a countenance that Obi-Wan found great clarity in; there was very little to be hidden in the man's expression. Most bizarrely of all, Obi-Wan realized, the apparent Grand Master had a Padawan braid.

"It's fine, they do this every time we get a visitor," he chuckled along with her, sitting back down in his chair. A pale green glass dome on the ceiling let down a gleaming light in a halo around him. "What brings you to Cathar? C'mon, have a seat. Pull a seat up from anywhere, I don't...I don't know how chairs keep ending up everywhere," he said, looking suspiciously at the furnishings. There were, indeed, a number of chairs everywhere.

Obi-Wan gently picked up a smaller chair with a green cushion that looked soft enough and placed it in front of the desk, and sat down gracefully. "Thank you. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I've come to Cathar with my Master. He tasked me with a study a few months back, to create a dissertation on the 19 Lost Masters. I understand this Temple was created by Nerim—the Nerim that studied under Lost Master Arwain, that is."

"Lost?" The Grand Master furrowed his brow. "Did she get lost again? Where is she?"

"Um, I mean no offense, it's just that, within the Jedi Order we—"

Tetha gently elbowed his shoulder. "He's messing with you, kid."

Nerim laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm totally willing to answer any questions you have. I've got time."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Thank you. I suppose my first question is, well, how closely related are you to the historical Nerim that founded this institution?"

"Oh, very close."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Did you know him?"

"Well of course I know him. He's me."

___________________________________________________________________________________



Obi-Wan activated his lightsaber and entered his preferred Soresu stance, breathing out and letting his limbs wind up with the Force. He felt his confidence rise, back in his element.

"Good stance," Nerim praised, tuning his own lightsaber's hilt to a training setting. "Now, watch closely," he said, and he slid his foot out into a wide stance, holding the hilt above his head in both hands. "What you're about to see is Juyo, as practiced by Fae Coven and Arwain Ash-Kan, passed down to me. It is, in many ways, the opposite of your style. Fae learned it from Sith during the war. If you ever come across a Dark Sider who fancies themselves a swordsman, about half the time they'll be using this."

There was a yellow-green flash, and the Grand Master charged Obi-Wan with surprising ferocity. It was not entirely unlike his sparring with Qui-Gon, who used Ataru, a very acrobatic and intense style. But where Ataru lead Qui-Gon to dart in and out of his range, Nerim simply kept running in and in.

They clashed, and when Nerim got the upper hand and his blade hovered an inch from Obi-Wan's neck, they would reset, and clash again. Obi-Wan's style emphasized conservative footwork, standing his ground when possible and making slight adjustments to ensure he was never without a strong defense. The aggressiveness of Juyo made him reconsider. When he stood still, Nerim simply moved into his stance and began a grapple. When they held a clash, Nerim would kick his legs out from under him or overpower him. Soon, he began measured retreats to avoid such an eventuality, but that only dragged the loss out longer.

Then, on instinct, Obi-Wan stepped into the oncoming attack, parrying it and responding with a near-simultaneous kick to the stomach. With some surprise, Nerim fell back to the ground, and then quickly rolled up backwards. Obi-Wan lunged and the point of his blade found itself at Nerim's neck. The Padawan was panting and sweating, but he had certainly won that bout.

"Good," Nerim smiled. "You're a natural at this. Never underestimate a good kick, or other extraneous attacks. Your blade is not the only thing of value in combat. Your body, your environment, and, if you're smart your supplementary equipment, all play a role. Let's step it up a notch."

Obi-Wan grinned. He had largely forgotten his anxieties, and confidence had returned to him. "Surprise me," he taunted.

They reset into position, and then Nerim rushed forward. At the last second, Nerim dropped, sliding into a kick at his legs while shielding himself with an upward slash from his blade. Obi-Wan took a cue from Qui-Gon's style and leapt into the air, flipping upside down and responding with his own slash while keeping his legs out of reach. He landed solidly, and then Nerim rolled up to him on one knee and slashed up. Their blades clashed, and Nerim reached into his tunic, drew a blaster, and shot him in the leg with a stun bolt.

"Fierfek!" Obi-Wan cursed as his blade dropped from his hands and deactivated, and he dropped to the floor, grabbing his knee. Nerim's laugh echoed through the open training chamber, and he stood up, twirling his blaster and holstering it. "What was that?!"

"A surprise!"

"That was barbaric is what it was!"

"If it works!" Nerim shrugged and smiled.

"What an uncivilized manner of dueling..."

"If you ever come across a Dark Jedi, you'd better hope they're not civilized!" Nerim said, helping him stand back up. "They're much scarier that way. Listen, you have to embrace the unorthodox. Attack your opponent where they're weak."

"I'm not weak to blasters!" Obi-Wan complained, shaking his leg out. "I'm the best Padawan in the Temple at deflection. Better than some Knights, in at least that one small respect."

"Sure. But I didn't use a blaster. I used your assumption that there was no blaster. At a certain level of skill, which you seem to possess, most weaknesses are actually psychological in nature. That is the principle of Dun Möch."

Obi-Wan nodded, taking a breath and returning to a ready stance. Then, he tilted his head. "When my Master told me you're known to use lightning...Was that also a joke?"

"No. It's true."

Obi-Wan swallowed. He had almost gotten used to the idea of Nerim being a Light Sider. He was certainly affable enough. But an exile was an exile, after all...

"Emerald Lightning!" Nerim added defensively.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Is that like Electric Judgment?"

"The hell is Electric Judgment?"

"Master Plo Koon is rumored to be able to produce a golden lightning which stuns his opponents, with the Council's blessing. They call it Electric Judgment."

"Oh. Yeah. It's like Electric Judgment. But it's green. Sometimes."

Obi-Wan took a breath. "Could you teach me how to defend myself against it?"

"I can teach you the theory," Nerim said warily.

___________________________________________________________________________________



The air on the top of the City Tree was a little thin, and windy, but soothing. The sun didn't burn too hot in the evening, and the whole sky had turned orange and red, with black mountains in the distance. A few other Force Users of the peculiar Knighthood relaxed on the grand branch, mostly Cathar.

Master Qui-Gon and Nerim had been talking for some time, when Qui-Gon stood and looked out on the horizon. "Where do you suppose Master Arwain is? I was hoping Obi-Wan could interview her for his project."

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed at Qui-Gon using the Master honorific for an outsider so naturally.

"Who knows? She's like a stray cat." Nerim pouted on the chaise lounge he had been laid back in. "I haven't seen her since last winter. Wouldn't kill her to stop in more often..."

"Hm. Perhaps I'll...make a call," Qui-Gon said, walking away towards the outer end of the branch.

After a moment, Obi-Wan turned to Nerim. "What's it like, being a Grand Master of an Order?"

"Hm? A pain. Y'know I'm not even the most senior Master here. I just got volunteered for that position because I was the only one who liked teaching kids." Nerim looked up to the liquid searing golden orange sky, broken up by the black cracks of the tree branches above them. "But it makes me very happy. I can't help it, I suppose."

"You can't help it?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Did you just fall into being Grand Master or something?"

"Have you ever fallen in love, Obi-Wan?"

"Of course not," the Padawan said defensively.

Nerim slowly smiled. "The line is supposed to be that, as a Jedi, you have unconditional love for all things."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Well, of course I do."

"Right. Well, there are many different types of love. The unconditional love you are taught in the Temple plays a part, yes, but that is an impersonal and distant love. It's also a lot like falling in love, that way that you most certainly haven't, when you develop an infatuation with someone, and they rise to your thoughts unbidden, and you wish to succeed for them, and for them to succeed, and to share your successes together. And instead of thinking they're pretty, you think they're a combination of comical and gross and somewhat pathetic and deeply inspiring. That's what it's like to be a parent, or a Master. Every time an apprentice comes before me, I can't help but see them as my own child."

Obi-Wan looked up to the sky too. "I can't imagine it, personally. Even having one Padawan seems like too much. I'm not a good teacher."

Nerim chuckled under his breath. "I'll tell you what I told Qui-Gon when he was your age, and what my Master's master's master told me when I was your age also. It's not just about being a teacher. A Master provides more than lessons, more even than guidance. More than protection, more than an advocate. More than good company. Stars, the Force knows they don't always provide good company," he laughed aloud.

Obi-Wan looked to the Grand Master. "What is it?"

"A Padawan's Master is their Master. This is something I've had to explain to many outsiders, but even Jedi need a reminder from time to time. We don't call them Master because they have Mastery over us. We call them our Master because they belong to us. That's my Master. I'm his Master. That's what it means. It's unique, and precious, and if you ever find yourself without anything else to give, don't let it stop you from giving at least that. You are, at the very least, someone they can be younger than, and someone who belongs to them, and loves them."

Obi-Wan let the words sit with him for a moment, and then looked back up to the sky and smiled.

___________________________________________________________________________________



"Well, what's your takeaway?" Qui-Gon asked, as they boarded their vessel once more.

Obi-Wan placed a hand to his chin in thought. "You know...I'm glad all this nonsense isn't in the Temple. But I'm glad it is out here. Is that strange?"

"Of course not. If the Temple held everything good in the Galaxy, there wouldn't be much point to the rest of it, now would there?"

Obi-Wan smiled at that.

"By the way, I was talking about your dissertation. You were taking notes, right?"

Obi-Wan frowned.


_________________________________________________

Spoiler: A/N

And there's the arc 7 vignette/epilogue! I feel this is a more traditional ending, for people who would prefer that over Hong Kong abruptness. With that, I still have a couple vignettes I'll edit up and release sporadically, and I have no doubt that I will want to make silly little extra chapters on occasion, but we've reached the Proper End of the story. Thank you so much for reading! I'll indulge in one last reminder of my website, to which I uploaded a blogpost about the Saarkanians last night along with my other internet works, and also if you're feeling extra generous I have a ko-fi you can donate to (which also gets you access to a...secret chapter.)

 

[Grimmouse197]

So how old is he during this. Or did he actually discover the youth technique.

 

[drunkenBavarian]

This is such an adorable ending, thank you for this great story!

 

[HoodsGate]

Thank you so much for writing and sharing TFASY.
It's been delightful, and helped me want to wake up some days the last while.

Cheers!

 

[Hyenanon]

So how old is he during this. Or did he actually discover the youth technique.

Click to shrink...

Yep, he's successfully learned the technique, and Tetha has bummed it off him as she had planned long ago

This is such an adorable ending, thank you for this great story!

Click to shrink...

Thank you!

Thank you so much for writing and sharing TFASY.
It's been delightful, and helped me want to wake up some days the last while.

Cheers!

Click to shrink...

That's so heartwarming to hear, thank you very much!

 

[Underdog]

Were those twins his and Tetha's children? How nice I though she mentioned she couldn't have kids cause of being a designer baby.

 

[Hyenanon]

Were those twins his and Tetha's children? How nice I though she mentioned she couldn't have kids cause of being a designer baby.

Click to shrink...

Haha, no, they're just two little Saarkanian Force Sensitives that happened to be apprentices at the Cathar Temple, and enjoy bothering Nerim.

I'm not entirely opposed to the idea of Nerim and Tetha having children, though...through the Force, all things are possible!

 

[drunkenBavarian]

I'm not entirely opposed to the idea of Nerim and Tetha having children, though...through the Force, all things are possible!

Click to shrink...

Yes please, those two deserve it!

 

[Selias]

On the one hand, I'm a little sad that it's over. On the other hand, I'm glad that it had an ending. A lot of fanfiction doesn't.

 

[Hyenanon]

On the one hand, I'm a little sad that it's over. On the other hand, I'm glad that it had an ending. A lot of fanfiction doesn't.

Click to shrink...

It's very bittersweet for me, also. This story has been the recipient of a lot of my free time and passion for years now. And somewhat intimidating to start a new project! A lot of the reason this story worked and got better as it went along was the fact that I built up a number of elements that worked well together over a long period. Whatever I start from scratch can't have that advantage. Always one of the scariest parts of writing!

 

[torac]

Well, you already know how much I like your writing… so this ending just makes me a bit wistful.

Regarding kids, I think Padawans and general "taking care of kids" counts. No need for physically giving birth to them. For a more personal connection, I expect them to be the weird/cool aunt/uncle of some royal kids at some point…

"The hell is Electric Judgment?"

Click to shrink...

"hell" feels a bit too Abrahamic an exclamation for my taste.

 

[Hyenanon]

Well, you already know how much I like your writing… so this ending just makes me a bit wistful.

Regarding kids, I think Padawans and general "taking care of kids" counts. No need for physically giving birth to them. For a more personal connection, I expect them to be the weird/cool aunt/uncle of some royal kids at some point…

Click to shrink...

Thank you! Tetha and Nerim would definitely be a very weird and very cool aunt&uncle for the Cathar nobility

"hell" feels a bit too Abrahamic an exclamation for my taste.

Click to shrink...

You'd think! But Han does use it in the movies. It was explained in the lore to be a uniquely Corellian word, hence my use a couple times in the story of "What in the Corellian Hell?" (which I think also just sounds good on its own) but I figure with enough time Nerim would eventually shorten it

 

[Celer]

Awwww, adorable!

 

[Mochamotion]

I came into this story very late, but I'm glad I found it before leaving this message would be necromancy. Such an excellently well written fic that embraces the complexity of the many philosophies of the Force is a rare treat. I look forward to future endeavors.

 

[Hyenanon]

I came into this story very late, but I'm glad I found it before leaving this message would be necromancy. Such an excellently well written fic that embraces the complexity of the many philosophies of the Force is a rare treat. I look forward to future endeavors.

Click to shrink...

Thank you very much! I'm glad you enjoyed it! I'm still in the process of exploring some of the ideas in my notebook to see what can go where. Unfortunately one of my ideas turned out to be very short fiction, which I was happy with, but only amounted to around 8k words. Not sure if it's worth starting a whole thread for that. I'll upload it to my website if I can get that working, but that'll probably take a few days.

 

[TroubleFait]

Potentially you could have a thread called "Hyenanon's Hidden Pile of Short Stories" or something like that, as some people do.

 

[Hyenanon]

Potentially you could have a thread called "Hyenanon's Hidden Pile of Short Stories" or something like that, as some people do.

Click to shrink...

That's an interesting idea! Although I feel like I oughta have more than one short story before starting something like that, at least. But I'll keep it in mind for sure.

I also admit part of my reluctance to upload that particular short story off of my website or pursue it further as a larger story is because it's Elder Scrolls fanfiction, which is an IP that has run away into weird card games and MMOs I do not interact with, to the point that I no longer recognize any of the lore when I look on the UESP. My writing was based off of concepts from like, 4 retcons back, from a series that never had a very clear continuity anyways. I've already received several comments of confusion on TFASY between EU and Disney lore, and that's with the benefit of extremely clear cut and segmented lore continuities that had a multimedia empire with actual employees dedicated solely to making it coherent and non-contradictory. I dread the avalanche of comments questioning why the khajiit don't ride storm atronach bear mounts like they do in the MMO or something zany like that. Perhaps it's something I should just get over.

 

[FourEyedAxolotl]

To be honest, with any large setting, those who want to complain will always have something to complain about. Leave it to the majority of readers to appreciate your (excellent) works and ignoring the vocal minority unless they have something interesting to say is probably the best attitude for fiction on forums like this.

That said, I'd love a snippets thread by you Hyenanon.

 

[Hyenanon]

Spoiler: A/N

The first of those extra vignettes and chapters I never released that I promised earlier. The mystery of Nerim's name, solved! Also, for some reason, Fae is quite the centerpiece of many vignettes...

I'll be honest, I had hoped I would have another project already online before I posted this so that I could direct you there, but in retrospect it was maybe a little naive of me to assume I could finish a fanfiction, a CYOA, and start a new work, all in one week. I'm still workin' on it! Giving more consideration to expanding out the Elder Scrolls idea...

__________________________

Extra Vignette 1: For Eight Hundred Years​

"Grand Master," Gendi spoke quietly, his beard streaked with white and hiding his frown. "Is there no way to talk some sense into her?"

"Hm. Perhaps it is you that needs sense talked into them, hmm?" Fae responded, continuing to walk forward with her eyes closed in relaxation and her hands neatly folded behind her back.

"Do you really think Arwain is fit to be a Master?"

"Foolish question, Gendi," she chided, starting to become annoyed that he was interrupting her day. "Fit to be a Master, as if it's a job we're hiring for. Pfeh. The Council does not elevate Knights to Masters, it recognizes Masters."

"But I see no Mastery. She has yet to even take a Padawan."

"Mm. Yes. That bothers me, also," Fae admitted. "I badger her about it constantly."

"I don't understand why you've brought this up to the Council in the first place. We have no positions in need of filling. Arwain hasn't even brought up her rank."

"One day she will. And if I let her catch you offguard, I fear you and several other members of the Council will have a stroke."

"Grand Master..." Gendi started. Fae came to a stop and turned to him, her eyes cracking open. He pursed his lips and, realizing she had already sensed what he was going to say, continued. "Some believe you are improperly attached to your former Padawan."

She stepped forward, craning her head up at him. "Think of me as a spring mynock, hm? A little hawk-bat with her first nest?"

"I—I'm sorry?" Gendi's beard twitched as he looked down at her.

She poked him aggressively in the stomach. "For eight hundred years, I've been the Grand Master! The only Grand Master! Every child that's ever been carried into this Temple, I've held in my arms from their infancy! I remember every single one of their faces and names more clearly than you remember your own!"

"I'm sorry Grand Mast—"

"I changed your diapers, Gendi! I taught you your aurebesh, hmm?!"

Gendi frowned, covering his stomach to stop her from poking him. "I am well awa—"

"You couldn't pronounce 'Grand Master' until you were five years old, you called me Gran Mama!"

Gendi looked askance, giving up on making a response. Perhaps just waiting for her fit to be over. Fae's eye twitched.

"Caught you stealing your fellow Padawan's underwear, hmm?!"

"Grand Master!" Gendi reared back, horrified. He glanced around in fear of anyone having overheard that last bit. Appropriately chastened, he shrunk. "That was half a century ago..."

"I've recognized Masters far dumber than you and far more reckless than Arwain. It's hardly a prestigious title. Besides, she needs to be recognized as a Master officially before she can go into the forbidden section of the archives without supervision, and as much as I love escorting her around, it's becoming a hassle. I'd send one of you laserbrains to do it, but none of you can get along with her!"

"Yes, Grand Master..." Gendi agreed despondently. Fae huffed and nodded, and then continued walking, leaving him behind.

She would need to do quite a bit more henpecking before the Council came around to it, but ever since Arwain had returned from her last mission wearing white robes and even more calm and optimistic than usual, it was only a matter of time. Fae had seen such transformations before many times in Knights who were ready to become Masters, but did not yet ask. Yoda, also, had seen such things before. He was the only member of the Council who agreed to raise Arwain up to Master immediately, but only because he felt the Order required more Masters in general. Hundreds more, if he had his way. Fae sighed through her nose at the thought. That little troublemaker was far too permissive...

But she cleared the troubles from her mind as soon as she entered the nursery, and a graceful smile returned to her face naturally. Today was a special day; the kind of special day that happened about two hundred times a year, but was nonetheless precious each time.

"Hi, Fae!" A happy Jedi Servicewoman greeted her, carrying a bundle of toy blocks in her arms.

"Where's the new baby?" Fae asked, grinning. She was taken to a cradle with a very young infant. She gently picked up the Mirialan baby, who slightly opened one eye and gurgled at her. "Wow. What a sweet baby boy. What's his name?"

"Nerim. He was born earlier today, on an airbus, believe it or not. His midi-chlorian count is lower than mine, but he's healthy at least."

"Nerim..." She looked down and smiled, gently brushing his cheek. He made all sorts of noises, very vocal for a newborn. Then her brow furrowed. "Nerim what?"

The Servicewoman shrugged. "The correct question would be 'what Nerim', because Nerim is his surname. But uh, apparently his parents didn't give him a first name."

Fae looked back down at him, puzzled. "Hm. I sense that will be inconvenient in the future. We should give him a first name. Would you like that, Nerim?"

The baby suddenly stopped making noises, looking up at Fae intently. Then he reached his arm out and tried to grab her whiskers.

"That's right, I'm talking to you," the old woman giggled. "What would you like your name to be?"

"Feh..." The baby vocalized, still trying to reach for her face.

"Oh goodness. Another one. Just what we needed," Fae sighed and shook her head. "No, you have to pick a different one."

Nerim accidentally choked on his own drool a little, and then hiccuped and spit at her.

Fae chuckled and wiped her eye. "Okay. Fine then. Just Nerim."

___________________________________________________________________________________



Fae waved her arm, and a number of metal spheres raised into the air, each small holoprojectors that cast the shuttered, dark room in pleasant blue light. The projections were all animals, from fish floating through the air to grazing animals stamping across the floor to bugs crawling along the ground—that last one causing more than one of the younglings to squeak in terror or coo in awe.

"All living things are connected. That is the essence of the Force," she said, smiling down at the eager learners. "Even the bugs. Especially the bugs!" She teased, lifting one of the orbs closer to a particularly squeamish girl, causing the projections to swarm at her feet. She hopped from foot to foot, and then rushed over to the Grand Master's side and grabbed onto her for safety. The children laughed, and Fae pat her on the head.

"Remember, just because something's scary, doesn't mean it's dangerous. And even if it is dangerous, it might not be mean! Those who treat every danger on the road as an enemy will find their path full of enemies. Nerim, pay attention," she snapped her finger.

The young Mirialan boy, who had completely spaced out watching a passing fish, looked to her. Unfortunately he didn't sense the warning, and one of the floating orbs struck him lightly in the back of the head, causing him to jump in surprise more than pain. The younglings laughed at him, and he scowled. Quite a temper for a six year old, she noticed.

The lesson continued smoothly, and once it had ended, each of the children more or less sprinted out of the room to go to their playroom. All except one. Nerim stayed in the chamber, watching the holograms go by.

"Nerim?" Fae asked gently, nudging him.

"Yes, Fae?" He responded. Ever since he learned her first name, he rather defiantly kept calling her that, instead of Grand Master like he was supposed to. It pleased him to no end that she couldn't reciprocate that slight. For now, it was adorable.

"Aren't you going to go play with the others?"

"No."

Ah. There it was. That was his favorite word in the Basic language. Ever since he learned it, he loved saying it to her, or to anyone else. Especially in the face of rhetorical questions whose answer was supposed to be yes. He even ended up a little skinny for a time because he enjoyed saying no so much that he would refuse meal times.

She supposed there was something alluring about it, the clarity of the boundary. The finality. The utter lack of attempt to justify or even explain itself. It was simply no, that's that. Really, one of the things that he liked most about it was that it drew a clear boundary between what was going on in his head and what other people were allowed to know.

Or maybe, what he really liked about it the most, was that it invited follow up questions. You had to ask why not, and that meant you either had to actually care, or at least that you had no right to complain or interrupt while he answered. If you didn't ask, he was fine with that, also. It meant he didn't waste his words on someone who wasn't listening.

It was certainly antisocial. Stubborn. An impediment to his growth. A little worrisome for a Jedi, in particular. But whenever someone did ask, he always answered.

So, she asked. "Why not?"

"They're mean," he replied simply, without any emphasis or emotion. Without judgment, almost.

"How are they mean to you?"

"They never listen to me. I always get left out."

"I'm sure they don't mean it," she pat him on the shoulder. "Why don't you give it another shot?"

"I wanna study more," he complained. "I like studying."

Ah. One of the most difficult types of children. The kind that want to overindulge in productive work. You can't even get mad at them because they're 'being responsible.'

"Playing and getting along is important, Young Nerim," she gently chided. "It helps if you have an interest in common. I know Young Tzai has a fondness for smashball. Why don't you go ask to play with him?"

He looked at her skeptically like she was trying to sell him something.

She smiled. Okay, she'd sell. "If you do, I'll give you a private lightsaber lesson tomorrow after class."

His eyes lit up at that. "Okay, Fae!"

___________________________________________________________________________________



"Pleeeeease?" Arwain begged, hands clasped and eyes wide and pleading.

Fae glowered at her. "Why would you possibly need Darth Ruin's lightsaber?"

"I'm so close to convincing the holocron of Darth Toksis that I've fallen to the Dark Side. He's bound to give me all of his secrets, and then we can file it away as fully explored."

Fae stared at her former Padawan. "Arwain, there are times where I wonder if you really are evil. It would be a truly staggering long con."

"But you trust me!" She grinned widely.

"Mm." Fae's eyes narrowed. Then she smiled slyly. "I will. Under one condition."

"Of course!" Arwain nodded, assured that Fae would ask for nothing bad.

"You have to attend the Initiate Tournament tonight."

"...Fae, that would hardly be sporting for the children."

"Not participate, you nitwit. Attend."

Arwain crossed her arms. "I'm saying yes, because it's no skin off my back. But you have to know by now that I'm not going to take a Padawan."

"And why not?"

"I tell you this every time, Master. I'll admit, there are some aspects of taking a Padawan I find appealing. But I simply don't feel the need to teach a child from the ground up. I like tutoring people in my fields of expertise well enough, but I don't have the time or desire—or frankly, ability—to teach a Youngling everything they need to know. If you want, I can take more duties in the archives to tutor Padawans—"

"No, no, no! That's not the same thing as being a Master! Not at all!"

"I know! The fundamentals and core curriculum and blah blah," Arwain gestured dismissively. "I'm agreeing with you, I can't do that kind of stuff."

Fae sighed wearily. "You don't need to teach them everything. But I know you could give them what they need. I have every reason to believe you would be a good Master."

"That's...flattering," Arwain said, caught offguard by the compliment. "But I just don't have the temperament for it."

"Just go to the tournament and watch. Watch honestly, with your heart open. Pay attention to the kids there. Their skills, their personalities, their hopes and dreams. I promise you'll be impressed. And besides, if you take a Padawan and it doesn't work out, you can always just abdicate them."

"What?!" Arwain's brow furrowed. "That's horrible. You're practically ruining their life if you do that. Even if another Knight comes along and takes them as a Padawan, it's horrible to just drop a kid on the side of the Temple and say 'Sorry, I said we were in this together, but actually I just don't want you anymore.'"

Fae restrained a smile at that response. "Every year, there are Younglings who never even get one Master. And often times, that is for the best. But I'll be damned if I parade them out there, calling on them to try their hearts out, only for nobody to even be watching. They deserve to at least be considered."

Arwain shrugged. "I can consider them. But I just don't know why you're so hellbent on me in particular. I'm no good with kids. I'd mess it all up."

Fae took a deep breath. "If you went to the tournament, and you saw yourself as a Youngling competing there, what would you do?"

She crossed her arms. "I'd hope there was nobody like that."

"Just answer the question."

She looked down. "I suppose I would try to get someone like you to take them as a Padawan."

"Exactly!" Fae smiled.

Arwain stared at her for a few moments. "I don't get it. Is there someone there that reminds you of me, or...?"

Fae laughed. "So expert at missing the point."

"What do you want from me?" Arwain groaned, running a hand down her face. "What do I have to do?"

"No! You don't have to do anything. What matters is that you try."

"Try what?"

"Right now? Try to remember." Fae said, walking forward and reaching her arm up, cupping Arwain's cheek in her hand. "I remember when you undertook the Tournament. You were so frustrated you got knocked out in the first round. You were certain nobody would pick you, I could sense it."

Arwain snorted. "Yeah. I had such high hopes going in, and as soon as the match was called I was sure it was the Explore Corps for me. Very humbling."

Fae lowered her hand. "So much weight on your shoulders, at such a young age. Isn't it sad? To think of a Youngling undertaking all that weight alone?"

"I suppose it is," Arwain frowned.

"Not all children are as talented as you were, Arwain. Quite a few of them don't think they're going to make it at all. Imagine that crushing sense of defeat you experienced in that moment, stretched out over your youngest years."

Arwain looked away, down at the floor.

"The least you can do is pay attention to them. I want you to take a Padawan, but if none of them feel right, then don't. It's okay. You can't force a bond. We can't fix all the problems in the world. No one can be everyone's Master, not even me. But at the very least, don't have them strive and perform for an empty chair."

Arwain took a deep breath. "Alright. I'll attend. But I'm telling you now, I'm not taking a Padawan. All I can do is pay attention."

___________________________________________________________________________________



"Master?" Arwain creaked open the door.

Fae opened one eye from her meditation. "Hmm?"

Arwain looked at her with an icy glare and some amount of...bashfulness? "I need some advice. I don't wanna hear any comments until I'm finished asking my questions."

"Hmm." Fae closed her eye again.

"There was this kid in the tournament, his name is Nerim."

"Mhm," Fae smiled.

 

[Simonbob]

Yoda can't compete, Fae is Best Grand Master.

 

[Silver719]

Yoda can't compete, Fae is Best Grand Master.

Click to shrink...

Even judging by more modern things dealing with Republic history like Survivor, the high point of the republic was centuries before the events of the movies. In fact, it's rather shocking just how quickly things went downhill from...oh hey, would you look at that, the Nihil Conflict, which started roughly two centuries before the events of the Movies. How about that.

 

[TroubleFait]

She has her flaws, but she continues to win my heart.

"I'm so close to convincing the holocron of Darth Toksis that I've fallen to the Dark Side. He's bound to give me all of his secrets, and then we can file it away as fully explored."

Click to shrink...

Wow, this is actually incredible. Such a master of the evil art of trolling.

 

[Mochamotion]

Awwwwww. So sweet.