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Obi-Wan cursed quietly as he climbed the stairs to the tower. Frustration was bubbling inside of him, increasing with every step. If it was growing hard to breathe it had less to do with the steepness of the steps and more because he was so incandescently angry.
What had his father been thinking. Declaring Anakin the child of prophecy had been foolhardy, particularly when Anakin had been nine, and far too young for such a weight. But at least it had been foolish in the way that the gods found amusing.
But now… now his father had gone even further, pronouncing that Anakin’s power was far beyond what even the gods’ could comprehend.
The result would have been terrible even if his father was just a man, the gods did not take well to such prideful claims. But his father was a king and Anakin a prince, and their pride would bring the wrath of the gods down not just on them, but on their people.
He reached the top of the tower, pushing the door open with more force than was necessary. The air was cool, and the scents of early autumn washed over him.
He felt his anger fade, twisting into the deeper, more terrifying emotions of worry. How was he going to protect his people from the wrath of the gods themselves?
The parapets were warm from the day’s sun when he leaned on them in order to stare out at the kingdom, stretching out in front of him until it reached the sea.
The first reports of failing crops had reached them, as had word that one of the King’s ships had gone down just off the coast. Most terrifying, perhaps, were the whispers of the threat of a monster rising from the deep, its path heading straight for them.
“So what, exactly, did King Qui-Gon do?”
Obi-Wan jerked, turning sharply to see—
“Jango.” He breathed out a sigh of relief, watching as the wings on Jango’s back folded in and then disappeared as Jango dropped lightly the last foot to the ground, making startling little noise for all the armor that he wore. “What are you doing here?”
Jango raised an eyebrow in that imperious way that had once made Obi-Wan want to punch him in that too-smug face of his. “Figuring out just what Qui-Gon did to have the gods in an uproar.”
Obi-Wan restrained himself from saying that the gods had gotten their feelings hurt and never handled that well. That would just make the gods mad at him, too. That was the last thing they needed.
“He claimed that Anakin was more powerful than the gods themselves.”
Jango let out a low whistle. “Idiot.”
It was not the first time Jango had called Obi-Wan’s father that, but this time Obi-Wan couldn’t muster up the energy to defend him. Not when it was so very clearly true. “Managing to offend every single god in one breath, yes, I’d call that idiocy.”
He sighed, leaning against the parapet again. Jango joined him after a second, their shoulders brushing against each other. The gesture left him feeling as warm as the sun did.
“What are you going to do?” Jango asked quietly.
Obi-Wan snorted. “There aren’t really any good options. The gods don’t seem likely to be pacified any time soon, and you know both my father and Anakin.”
“Not very good at backing down,” Jango agreed. An ironic statement coming from the Heir of Mandalore. Their whole people weren’t very good at backing down. But then, they’d gained the favor of War a long time ago; their stubbornness was considered a defining and much valued characteristic.
“They’d have fit right in with your people,” Obi-Wan commented, partially to see Jango’s reaction.
Jango snorted at that, lips going pinched and his nose wrinkling with disgust. “King Qui-Gon? No. He’s far too much of a Coruscanti to ever fit well in Mandalore.” Obi-Wan caught the side-eye Fett gave him. “Anakin though, he might have once upon a time, before this latest bout of arrogance. He takes after his brother in a lot of ways, I’ve heard. And his brother… now he’d make a beautiful Mandalorian.”
Obi-Wan sighed, though a smile tugged at his lips. The words hung between them, a not-so-subtle reminder of what Jango wanted from him. “I can’t leave my people,” he reminded Jango.
Jango shifted so that his back was against the parapet and they could meet each other’s eyes. “Your people and infrastructure are going to struggle after this.” He waved his hand to the castle, clearly indicating his father and Anakin and the wrath they’d brought down on them all. “It wouldn’t be difficult for them to be conquered. No one would bat an eye if I married the former heir to the throne to unite the two kingdoms in the aftermath.”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, counting to five to give Jango time to stop being an idiot. “You know, I wish I could be certain that that’s your idea of teasing.” He opened his eyes, fixing Jango with a glare. “I don’t want my people to be conquered, Jango.”
Jango shrugged. “And the drought? The sea-monster? Those will conquer your people just as easily. At least my method resolves the issue. The gods won’t blame your people if Qui-Gon and Anakin no longer rule over them. Removing them from power can only be a good thing.”
Obi-Wan crossed his arms, turning a little to better look at Jango. “Oh, so now you’re doing it for the good of my people.”
That earned him a snort. “I’m suggesting it because you’ve turned down my offer of marriage four times, each time because ‘oh, my father needs me.’ ‘Oh, I can’t leave my brother.’ ‘Oh, what ever will happen to my people because the King is a neglectful bastard who drops his responsibilities on my lap all while my younger brother is being raised to think that he’s some sort of god who has no need to answer to the people.’”
“I never said that last one,” Obi-Wan interrupted, though given the current situation it was frustratingly accurate.
“You meant it,” Jango said easily. Jango stepped closer until they were nearly touching, one hand coming up to cup Obi-Wan’s cheek. Despite himself, despite how many times Obi-Wan told himself he wouldn’t let Jango get to him, despite how much it always hurt when Jango left, Obi-Wan found himself leaning into the touch. “I’m offering you a way out of this, and you won’t take it.”
“Jango—“
“And don’t tell me it’s because you don’t love me. You and I both know that’s a lie.” Jango’s thumb brushed back and forth against Obi-Wan’s cheek, warm and comforting.
Obi-Wan opened his mouth and then closed it again. He couldn’t deny it, though in the past two years he’d certainly tried. Sometimes he still couldn’t conceive at what had possessed either him or Jango to get them to this point. Obi-Wan a Coruscanti prince, Jango the heir to Mandalore. His father hated the Mandalorians bitterly, and King Jaster wasn’t particularly fond of them either.
Obi-Wan and Jango shouldn’t even have met, given the animosity. But Obi-Wan had accepted a quest from the gods and Jango… Jango had been doing what Jango did when he wasn’t helping his father rule: looking for monsters to fight and damsels in distress to save.
He hadn’t saved Obi-Wan, no matter what Jango liked to claim. But they had worked together, and when it was over Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped him when Jango had pushed him against a wall—their quarry, an abomination created by one of the gods for some petty revenge, dead only feet away from them—and kissed him.
It had escalated from there into one night that had turned into two, that had turned into a week. A week that had been better than any Obi-Wan had had before. But they’d parted, both still oblivious to the other’s identity, and it should have been the end of it.
And then Jango had shown up, right here on the parapets, the wings War had given him keeping him aloft and told Obi-Wan that he’d scoured five kingdoms looking for Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan had been frustrated and struggling, the weight of his father’s disappointment and the needs of the kingdom heavy on his shoulders and had been too flattered—to relieved to be wanted with enough passion to search five kingdoms for him—to consider why it was a bad idea to let a foreign prince seduce him, either sexually or romantically.
Things had only escalated from there until Jango’s first proposal of marriage two years ago.
“What do you want me to do?” Obi-Wan finally asked, a little bitterly. “I’ve been trying to keep this kingdom together. I can’t just swan off and marry the prince of another land and abandon my people to the King’s negligence.” It hurt to declaim his father as negligent, but Obi-Wan’s ability to lie about it had faded with this newest mix of poor choices and the arrogant dismissal of them.
“And if I do this,” Jango pointed out, dropping his hand from Obi-Wan’s cheek, stepping back a little. “You don’t have to. Once my father dies—and may the gods give him a long life—the two of us can protect our people.”
Obi-Wan stayed silent. It all sounded so easy when Jango spoke like this. “And what happens to my father and Anakin in this scenario?” he asked.
“Your father would be a threat and he’d be handled. Anakin is still young enough that I won’t have to deal with him.” Jango paused at that. “But he won’t be young enough much longer.”
“And if he fights?” Because Qui-Gon was right about one thing, Anakin was powerful, one of the most powerful mages in all nine kingdoms. If he fought against Mandalore—and even at sixteen, he would—then Jango would have no choice but to put him down as the threat he was.
“I’d have you,” Jango said easily. “He doesn’t know I’d never hurt you. Your life, as far as he would be concerned, would depend on his compliance.”
Obi-Wan let out a scoffing laugh. “Is that why you’re here, Jango. Here to take me captive and start your campaign?”
Jango’s eyes narrowed in offense, before the flash of anger passed. “No, Obi-Wan. I’m here because no one else would be. Because I didn’t want you to be alone.”
Obi-Wan’s anger faded, because he knew it was true. Jango was one of the few people Obi-Wan had these days. Many of his friends were off pursuing their own paths, guided by either the gods or their own desires, while his family… was difficult.
“Then… then just be here. No more talking about conquering my people or why I can’t marry you or my family or… or anything.”
Jango sighed, and there was disappointment in his eyes, but he nodded. “Fine. We don’t have to talk about anything.” He shifted closer. “Let me just help everything disappear for a little while,” he murmured before closing the last few inches and kissing Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan threw himself into the kiss, draping his arms over Jango’s shoulders and around his neck and let Jango push him back against the parapets and slowly dominate every part of him.
He let out a yelp, when Jango wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, pulled back from the kiss, and suddenly leapt into the air. He tightened his hold around Jango’s neck, cursing as they rose into the air, the wings on Jango’s back once more extended and lifting them higher and higher. Obi-Wan wrapped his legs around Jango’s waist, wishing Jango had given him a little bit of forewarning.
“This better not be a kidnapping,” he warned. He didn’t know if it had quite the impact he wanted, breathless as he was.
Jango laughed, eyes bright and warm, a smile playing at his lips. “Not this time.” Jango was bringing them higher and higher until the air grew chilly and Obi-Wan’s breath came just a little short. “Look,” Jango murmured in his ear as he kept them in one place, only the slightest ups and down to maintain them, that spoke of years training with his wings.
Obi-Wan did, resting his head on Jango’s shoulder as they rose and fell. It was beautiful up here, with a clear sight of the rolling hills that slowly faded as it turned into the flat lands that led to the sea. The towns and cities, marked by splashes of color from the tiled roofs, were tied together by the webs of roads spread out below him.
“It’s beautiful,” Obi-Wan murmured.
He felt Jango shift, felt the press of a kiss against Obi-Wan’s neck. “I’d take care of them, Obi-Wan,” Jango promised, so quiet Obi-Wan could almost, just almost, pretend he didn’t hear. “These people. Them and you.”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “Please Jango… Not now.”
Jango sighed, but didn’t say any further, instead just keeping them steady and allowing Obi-Wan to stare out at his kingdom.
Eventually Jango started to lower them, a slow gradual descent unlike the ones Obi-Wan normally saw him take. Obi-Wan appreciated it, since Jango’s usual flying could accurately be defined as ‘death defying’.
They landed back on the parapet and Obi-Wan unwrapped himself from where he’d been clinging to Jango, grateful and disappointed to find his feet once again safely on the ground. Jango’s wings once more disappeared, but he didn’t remove his arms from around Obi-Wan’s waist, instead pulling Obi-Wan forward until they were once again kissing.
It was too soon when Jango finally pulled away. “Think about my offer,” Jango said finally. “I’ve been sent on a quest to slay a cockatrice, but when I come back…”
Obi-Wan frowned. “Alone? Jango that’s—“
“I’ll be fine,” Jango reassured him. “You know I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”
Obi-Wan didn’t feel any relief at that. “No taking any foolish chances, Jango.”
“Of course not,” Jango said, but it was clear he was more interested in pacifying Obi-Wan than actually intending on not taking foolish chances. “I’ll be very careful.” His expression turned serious. “And you need to be careful too, Obi-Wan. Don’t do anything stupid trying to pacify the gods.”
“I won’t,” Obi-Wan agreed, even though he knew that if the gods gave him the chance to pacify them, he’d do whatever it took.
Whatever Jango was about to say in response was cut of by a voice drifting up from the stairs of the tower. “Obi-Wan, are you up there again?”
Jango cursed quietly, darting forward and kissing Obi-Wan one more time before he pulled back. “I will marry you, Obi-Wan.” And then he was flinging himself off the tower.
Obi-Wan turned to watch as Jango dived, skimming just above the ground before disappearing into the forest that lay on the eastern side of the castle. Part of Obi-Wan longed to have gone with him. Part of him always longed to go with him.
“Obi-Wan!” The door pushed open and Anakin stepped out, hair a wild mess. “Obi-Wan there’s a messenger, one from the gods!” Thoughts of Jango were dashed away, immediately focusing on Anakin.
“When did they arrive? What have they said?”
Anakin shook his head, his growing, curly hair bouncing with the movement. “I don’t know. Father sent me to get you.”
Obi-Wan nodded, grateful that their father had decided to involve Obi-Wan this time. Gods knew how often Obi-Wan had to learn too-important information out second hand. “Then let’s go see what the gods want.”
The messenger from the gods came in the form of a young phoenix, currently perched on the staff of a young shepherd who was staring around the throne room with awe. Obi-Wan could only hope that was a good sign, the phoenix was considered the creature of Magic, and if any of the gods were going to be on their side it would be Magic who Anakin faithfully worshipped.
Their father was waiting impatiently, arms crossed and dark, brown cloak trailing on the ground behind him as he paced.
“There you are.” His father gave him a sharp look. “Where have you been?”
Obi-Wan met his gaze evenly. “On the parapets.” His father knew nothing of Jango, and that was something Obi-Wan had no plans of changing.
His father scowled, but then nodded abruptly before turning to the phoenix. “We’re all here now, if you would finally give your message.”
Obi-Wan winced, so his father hadn’t wanted to wait for him, but had been forced to. He wished he could say he was surprised.
“The gods are willing to grant you mercy for your sin of pride,” the creature trilled, voice high and soft. Obi-Wan let out a sharp breath. Good, this was good. “Let the Prince Anakin revoke his power and the kingdom will be spared.”
Obi-Wan stiffened.
His father’s face had turned stony and angry, while Anakin had frozen where he stood, mouth open in shock and horror.
“My son is the chosen one,” his father said slowly. “He is the future of this kingdom. You ask me to spare my kingdom in the same breath as you demand I condemn it.”
“You want my magic?” Anakin asked, voice low and shaking. “I… I’m nothing without my magic.”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan interrupted, keeping his voice low. “You know that’s not true.”
His father sent him a sharp, quelling look. “This doesn’t concern you, Obi-Wan. I’d suggest you stay silent.”
Obi-Wan bit his tongue; with the messenger of the gods in front of them it was hardly the time to start an argument. “I’m merely reminding Anakin that his worth doesn’t lie in either his power or in prophecy.”
The phoenix fixed a beady eye on him. “And if the gods demand your power as well, what then, young prince?”
“Then it is theirs to take as they see fit,” Obi-Wan answered immediately, despite the way his heart wrenched in his chest. He was by no means as powerful as Anakin was, but he had spent years honing his gifts in magic until they felt a natural part of him.
But what was his magic in the face of his people’s suffering?
The phoenix’s head bobbed up and down.
“If Obi-Wan is so willing to forsake his power then let the gods take it and consider the deed done,” Qui-Gon suggested, and Obi-Wan knew it was not out of disregard for Obi-Wan, merely a steady practicality that guided his actions. “It will be no great loss to our kingdom and our future is still secured with my second son.”
Obi-Wan refused to let the words hurt him.
The phoenix let out a trilling laugh. “It was not the first son who committed the offense.”
Obi-Wan stepped forward. “Nor was it the second,” he said quietly. “But the father that raised them both. Anakin should not need to suffer for his father’s words.”
He could feel his father stiffen in offense, but he at least seemed to realize that Obi-Wan was trying to save Anakin, and kept silent.
“And the gods have proven merciful,” the phoenix said easily. “They have demanded his power, not his life.”
Obi-Wan blanched at that. They would kill Anakin for what their father had said?
“There’s got to be another way,” Anakin said quietly.
“There is,” their father answered, and his voice had gained the tone of ‘King’, implacable and unwavering. “The gods may strike our crops, but we can heal them. They can strike our ships, and we will build more. They can send their monsters, but you Anakin, can defeat them.”
Obi-Wan paled. “Father,” he said slowly. “It is… unwise to challenge the gods.”
“The gods are blinded by their own pride,” his father retorted and Obi-Wan felt his heart drop at the look that had taken over his father’s face. His father was certain of his own righteousness, his own rightness. There would be no changing his mind.
No matter what the consequences were.
“The gods have heard your decision.” The phoenix’s dark, beady eyes met Obi-Wan’s. “May you take comfort in your own righteousness.”
There was a burst of flame and Obi-Wan flinched away from the heat. By the time he turned back, the phoenix was gone, the shepherd child with it.
Obi-Wan turned to his father. “You’ve just condemned our people,” he said, voice low and angry. The words, and the fury behind them, shocked even himself. For all that he disagreed with his father, he rarely allowed for himself to fight back.
His father’s eyes blazed with a fire not unlike that of the Phoenix’s farewell. “And you would bow and scrape before the gods as they destroyed our future.”
Obi-Wan resisted the urge to throw his hands in the air. “You do not know the Anakin is the chosen one. And if he is, then it would be his choices, not his power that would protect our people.”
Anakin hunched in on himself a little. “I didn’t want them to take my power,” he said quietly, before straightening. “And father is right, I can help heal the crops. And I can put protection spells on the ships. And I can beat whatever monster they send to us.”
Obi-Wan swallowed down his frustration. It had not been his power they had tried to take, he could not say how he would feel if he’d been in Anakin’s position. But he still could not help but mourn their father’s influence on Anakin.
He wished, painfully, that their mother had not died. She had been the only one capable of bringing their father under control. She, at least, had believed in humility, which was likely the exact reason why she had been so favored by the gods.
“We had all better hope so,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Because we will not have the aid of even a single god to help us.”
Anakin jutted out his chin, and he was so young, he did not yet understand the weight of the kingdom. And perhaps that was Obi-Wan’s own fault, for trying to protect Anakin from it’s weight, when no one had protected him from that weight falling on him too early.
“I can do it.”
Obi-Wan sent a quiet plea to the gods, knowing they wouldn’t listen, but unable to stop himself.
It didn’t work.
Oh, Obi-Wan knew that Anakin was trying, they all were. Anakin, Obi-Wan, and the other mages channelled magic into the crops until they’d nearly lost consciousness, only for them to grow and bloom with poisoned fruit. They had laid protection spells on the hull of the ships only for the waves to crash over them and push them down to the bottom, drowning the sailors and destroying everything on board even as the hull remained intact.
All the while, word of the great sea creature moved ever closer.
Obi-Wan did not want to know how the gods planned to use Anakin’s own magic to make the threat worse.
He only knew they would.
Their people were suffering and Obi-Wan felt helpless to do anything about it.
He was starting to wonder if perhaps Jango had had the right of it. What would it cost to be conquered if their crops once more grew un-poisoned fruit, if their ships could sail freely on the waters, if his people could trust that those who led them cared for them more than they did power.
But it was too late for that.
The sea creature was days away. Obi-Wan did not want to see what would come of their kingdom should the thing arrive.
There was only one thing to do, and Obi-Wan found himself on the path up the mountain to where the shrine of the gods lay.
The shrine, when he arrived in the dead of night, was laden with gifts and sacrifices. The people desperate for the gods to save them, unwitting as to why they had been cursed in the first place.
Obi-Wan moved slowly through the building until he reached the altar and knelt.
He breathed deeply, organizing his thoughts. “My father fights for the future of his kingdom,” he said slowly, carefully. “In turn, I offer up it’s future.” He closed his eyes, carefully controlling his breathing so that his own fear could not be heard. “I am the heir to the throne, the future king. Let my life be an exchange for that of my people’s.”
The words echoed through the empty shrine. Obi-Wan stayed kneeling, even as the hours passed and his knees began to ache.
The sun had just started to rise when there was a shift in the air.
“Kill you, is it?” came the voice, low and amused. “And your father and brother lose nothing. Hardly seems a trade that the gods should take any interest in.”
Obi-Wan bit his lip to stop from pointing out that they would be losing something. He knew that he played an important role in protecting their people and their kingdom. Whether or not his father appreciated him, Obi-Wan knew that his father needed him.
Slowly he looked up, and his breath caught. He’d expected a messenger, not one of the gods themselves. He bowed his head again, attempting to ensure he offered the proper amount of respect.
“War,” he said carefully, for the man he’d seen, with death in his eyes and blood on his skin could not be anything else. “I do not pretend to be of worth in the eyes of the gods. I only claim to be of worth to my people.”
The god let out a laugh, and it sounded like the beating of war drums, reverberating off the walls. Obi-Wan’s heart echoed with the beat of it.
“Magic has agreed to your offering, as have Spring and Death and a few others. You need only one more god to accept your plea.”
Obi-Wan raised his head again, keeping it as deferential as he could. “And you, War? Have you accepted my plea?”
War hummed, and Obi-Wan could see that he was twirling a dagger carelessly between his fingers. “I would take no pleasure in your death. I had other plans for you.” He stopped twirling the dagger, only to tap the tip of it against his bottom lip. “But I’m an adaptable god.”
Obi-Wan felt hope swell in his chest. The god reached out and chains appeared in his hands. “Chain yourself to the rocks along the cliffs. When the creature of Sea arrives, allow yourself to be taken.” War leaned forward and his eyes blazed with death. “This will save your people, little prince, but I make no promises for your brother and your father. But it will grant them clemency… for a time. A chance to gain the gods’ forgiveness on their own.”
The hope twisted in him. “Is there not something I can do to save them as well?” he asked pleadingly.
War’s smile was sharp and dangerous. “Chain yourself to the rocks along the cliff, the creature will be here by tomorrow’s dawn.” Obi-Wan swallowed, but reached forward and took the chains from War’s hands. They were hot in his hands, like placing his hands against the stone in front of a fire.
“I will,” he said slowly, clenching them in between his hands.
He had barely finished the words before War was gone. The shrine felt like a tomb, as though the god had taken every sense of life with it.
He stood, having to lean against the altar as his legs shook beneath him. He had been on his knees nearly the whole night, and he could feel the strain of that now.
The gifts and sacrifices that had been scattered over the floor around the shrine had disappeared, taken along with War as he’d left.
Clemency, for a time. It was better than he’d expected, and… and perhaps in the aftermath of his death his father and Anakin would see sense. It felt almost futile to hope for such a thing, but he had to believe in them. He had to believe that even if all he could do was buy them more time, that it would work, that it would be worth it.
The chains felt heavy in his hands as he made his way back to the castle, a constant reminder of his choice. He saw no one, the day still early, when he arrived home and he found himself climbing up to the tower where he always met Jango.
He knew, he knew, that there was little chance that he’d see Jango. Jango was off slaying a cockatrice—and hopefully not being slain by one—and even if he were not, then he had a kingdom and a people that he cared for.
That he would be here today of all days…
Well, it had been a feeble hope.
He waited half the day before he gave it up as a lost hope. “I did love you, you know,” Obi-Wan told the air. “But I had to love my people more.”
He waited another few minutes, almost praying that Jango might appear.
Finally he turned and headed back down the stairs.
He packed the chains in a travel sack, slinging the pack over his back as he headed towards the side exit. There was no need for anyone to ask him where he was going or why he was leaving the castle.
“Obi-Wan!”
Obi-Wan turned as Anakin ran towards him. “Anakin.” He smiled at his brother. He hadn’t intended to say goodbye. He had not wanted Anakin to try to stop him, but he would not regret the opportunity to say something.
“Where are you going?”
Obi-Wan shrugged. “To gather reports,” Obi-Wan said easily. “The sea creature will be here soon.”
“Two or three days away,” Anakin said, voice going hard. He flexed his fingers, magic swirling around them. “I’ll be ready for it.”
Obi-Wan did not ask where Anakin had gotten his information; regardless, Obi-Wan trusted the War’s estimation over the theories of a frightened people.
“I know you’d try,” Obi-Wan agreed quietly. “But you may have to acknowledge that this is a fight that you cannot win.” He rested a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “I meant what I said that day, Anakin. You’re more than your magic.”
Anakin’s face twisted. “I can do this. Father says so, why won’t you believe in me the way he does?”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “Because you’re not a prophecy, Anakin. You are my brother, and I care more for you than for something you may do in some far-flung future.”
Anakin froze, brows furrowing as though he didn’t understand what Obi-Wan meant. Not for the first time Obi-Wan regretted the way their father had raised Anakin to think that he was some sort of child god for whom there were no limitations.
There were always limitations. It was how a person dealt with those limitations that made them into who they were.
Finally Anakin crossed his arms, frown crossing his face. “I can do this, Obi-Wan. You’ll see.”
Obi-Wan sighed. “I love you, Anakin. Don’t forget that.” He hiked the pack onto his shoulder. “I need to go. Be careful.”
Anakin didn’t seem to catch the hint of goodbye in his words, and Obi-Wan allowed himself to be grateful for that fact.
It would be hard enough to do this, he did not need his brother to try and stop him.
It would take him most of the rest of the day to make the journey down to the sea’s edge and Obi-Wan had no more time to waste.
He traveled quickly, not bothering to stop for food or rest. Those seemed highly trivial things when he’d be dead the next morning.
The sun had set and the moon was high in the sky by the time he reached the cliffs. The path down them was rocky and dangerous—more a backwards climb than a path at all—and Obi-Wan forced himself to move slowly. It would do no one any good if he fell to his death here.
Finally he made it down and onto the rocks. The spray of the sea was cold where it landed on his skin and he shivered a little.
It would be an unpleasant final few hours of his life, he admitted to himself.
He jumped carefully from one rock to the next, the jumps become further and more treacherous as he went, forcing him to use his magic to aid him, until he reached the rock furthest out. He grimaced; his legs were soaked from him having only just caught himself on the edge of the rock with the last jump.
He pulled the travel sack forward, pulling out the chains. They seemed to lengthen and grow as he pulled them out, turning from something that would bind his hands relatively closely together to a large chain that would have him dangling half-way down the rock.
The magic in the chains had kept them warm, the heat almost a relief now against his cold hands. He brought the chains to the top of the rock, watching as the magic twisted around them until they had melded themselves to the rock.
Easier than having to pound them in with the mallet and spike he’d brought with, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think. How kind of the gods to save him the work.
He took a deep breath as he held the two ends of the chains in his hands.
Fear had taken root in his chest, whispering about how much he did not want to die.
But what he wanted didn’t matter. Not anymore.
He closed his eyes, clearing his mind and heart of the fear tight in his chest, and then slowly, deliberately placed the chains around his wrists. He let himself slide down until he lay against the rock, dangling from the chains.
The perfect sacrifice.
Sea spray continued to whip against him, almost unbearably cold, but the chains around his wrist stayed warm, and that heat seemed to spread down his skin.
Night was starting to fade and the sun rise when he finally saw the creature. It was still a distance out, but there was no mistaking the rise and fall of scales as it moved steadily forward. Each time it rose from the water, it seemed to become a small mountain, and that was still at some distance. It seemed almost impossible that the sea had ever contained a creature this large.
It grew closer and closer and Obi-Wan heard the faded sound of screams from the people in the towns closest to the sea.
His own breath caught in his chest. Could the sea creature really be satisfied by taking Obi-Wan? He would be nothing to a creature this size.
Had War lied to him, taking pleasure in the idea of a worthless sacrifice?
No. No, he would not allow himself to think that way. He had to believe that he had not offered himself up to die as an act of cruelty by a god searching for amusement.
The waves of the sea were crashing against the rock, forced higher and higher as the sea creature moved closer, and Obi-Wan gasped in shock as one rose up and over the rock, crashing over him. The cold was a shock to his system, in one act freezing him to the bone.
He could barely breathe before another wave came up and crashed over him, the pressure pushing him down against the stone before it tried to rip him from the rock and into the sea. The chains stayed firm, the metal cutting into his wrists and his shoulders crying out in pain as the sea tried to pull him under.
It was impossible to see what was happening as the waves crashed again and again over his rock.
And then, from one moment to the next, the waves subsided.
Obi-Wan coughed, trying to expel sea water from his lungs, blinking his eyes open.
He froze.
There above him was the head of the sea creature, head tilted strangely like a bird’s as it watched him.
“You are the sssacrifice?” the creature hissed.
“I am.” His voice came out shaky from both the cold that had leeched into his very bones and the terror he could not help but feel at the sight of the creature up close.
It’s skin was dark and glittering, like it had been painted by the deepest parts of the sea. It had large, glittering eyes, and the tongue that flickered in and out of it’s mouth was thicker and longer than Obi-Wan himself was. He could see the creature’s body stretched out behind it, the end flicking back and forth and causing the same sort of waves that had nearly crushed him.
“Sssso sssmall a thing,” the creature hissed. “For sssso high a pricccce.”
Obi-Wan felt relief in his chest. Then he was paying the price, this would work.
The sea creature pulled back, hissing sharply in what Obi-Wan could recognize as the creature’s hunting cry, and then it was lunging forward.
Obi-Wan’s gaze of his incoming death suddenly disappeared in a flurry of wings.
“No,” someone snarled. “You don’t touch him.”
Obi-Wan wanted to yell at whoever it was to move before they died too. But the sea creature seemed to have frozen in surprise in the middle of it’s lunge.
Or, Obi-Wan realized in shock, it had truly frozen.
Between one moment and the next, the creature had become stone.
“You. Will. Not.” Jango, Obi-Wan realized in a daze, as the words penetrated. This was Jango. “Touch. Him.”
As though the words had their own magic to them, the sea creature, the stone that had been the sea creature, shattered into dust, pulled away by a sudden wind.
“Jango?” Obi-Wan managed, shock strangling his voice.
Jango whirled, and Obi-Wan caught sight of something being stuffed into a bag. A head, his mind supplied, a cockatrice’s head, eyes averted away from them both. “I told you not to do anything foolish,” Jango snapped.
Obi-Wan couldn’t help but stare. “You just turned the creature into stone.”
How? How had things ended so easily? After everything had gone wrong, no matter what they did, surely the gods…
“I did,” Jango said, and he still seemed furious. He reached out, and as soon as he touched the chains around Obi-Wan’s wrists, they fell away.
The moment the chains were gone, Jango was pulling Obi-Wan to his feet, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist.
Obi-Wan pulled back, though he was too unsteady to fully remove himself from Jango’s hold. “Thank you, Jango. You… you just saved me. You saved my people…” Everything was still sinking in, unhelped by the sudden exhaustion that was hitting him, now that the threat was gone. “But I need—“
“No,” Jango snapped. “No buts, no nothing. I’m taking you home.”
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest when War’s words echoed in his mind again. When the creature of Sea arrives, allow yourself to be taken.
He had assumed…
“Jango,” Obi-Wan asked quietly. “How did you know where I was?”
Jango didn’t answer, tightening his grip around Obi-Wan’s waist and leaping into the air, forcing Obi-Wan to cling to him, or risk him falling or pulling both of them down.
“Jango?” he pressed again, as he wrapped his legs around Jango’s waist, the movement harder than it should have been.
“We’ll talk when I get you home,” Jango said curtly. “Once I make sure you’re okay.”
Obi-Wan thought of protesting, but it seemed fruitless.
And he didn’t want to become such a distraction that Jango ended up dropping him.
As it was, he was exhausted and it was taking all of his strength to cling to Jango’s body.
The last of his adrenaline seemed focused on keeping himself attached to Jango and the flight passed in an exhausted daze. Obi-Wan almost didn’t realize that they’d landed, the ground feeling unsteady beneath his feet when Jango fully put him down.
Jango let out a tired laugh when Obi-Wan swayed forward. And then Obi-Wan was being scooped up again into Jango’s arms, this time like a bride. “A bath, then bed,” Jango said quietly. “Then we can talk.”
Obi-Wan knew he should protest, but it was as though everything had caught up to him at once and all he could do was rest his head against Jango’s shoulder and let him carry Obi-Wan into a building.
They stopped a few times as Jango reported the barest account of his actions, handing off the cockatrice’s head and telling them to bring it to War’s altar, before they reached a room that was large and spacious and where a tub of hot water had already been prepared.
He was conscious enough to protest as Jango carefully undressed him, but Jango just swatted his hands away. “You’re freezing, Obi-Wan. You need to warm up.”
Obi-Wan didn’t protest that any further, instead allowing Jango to help him into the bath, barely protesting as Jango brought a washcloth to run over his skin to wash away the salt that the sea had covered him with, murmuring quiet reassurances as Obi-Wan slowly warmed up. HIs extremities tingling unpleasantly as feeling came back into them.
He stayed pliant as Jango helped him out of the bath and into soft clothes that Obi-Wan immediately recognized as Jango’s own, the scent familiar and comforting.
“You should bathe as well,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “You—“
“I will,” Jango assured him, and there was a smile in his voice. “Now sleep.”
It’d been over two days since the last time he’d had any sleep, and enough had happened in that time that it was easy to let Jango push him into a bed and let sleep take him.
He was pulled awake a short time later when Jango crawled into bed with him, but the moment Jango wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled Obi-Wan back, Obi-Wan decided there was no need to try to remain conscious and let sleep pull him back under.
He woke slowly, the feeling of warmth and safety covering him like a blanket.
“You’re awake then?” said someone fondly, the words breathed quietly in his ear.
It took him a moment to recognize it as Jango’s voice and a moment after that to remember everything that had happened.
He jerked into a sitting position, barely missing knocking his head against Jango’s own as Jango pulled back. “Jango,” he breathed out.
Jango smiled at him, warm and sincere. “Obi-Wan.” He reached to the table next to the bed and grabbed a platter of food, placing it on Obi-Wan’s lap. “Food.”
Obi-Wan glanced down to see an array of different fruits. He took one, popping it into his mouth. It was sweet and a little tart and he ate it slowly.
He turned to Jango as he finished to find Jango leaning back in the bed, watching Obi-Wan, smile gone and replaced by a serious expression.
“What were you doing chained to a rock for a sea creature to eat?” Jango asked, voice low and serious.
Obi-Wan hesitated. “Jango, if it would have spared your people, would you do anything differently?”
Jango just raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Obi-Wan,” he repeated slowly. “What were you doing chained to a rock for a sea creature to eat?” He leaned forward. “Last I checked, you weren’t the one who offended the gods.”
“And neither were my people,” Obi-Wan argued. “They wanted Anakin’s magic, but my father insisted that Anakin’s magic was the key to our kingdom’s future.” He took a deep breath, mentally cursing when it came out shaky. “So I went to the gods and offered them myself. I’m heir to the throne. If Anakin’s magic is key to our kingdom’s future, then I was an equivalent exchange.”
Jango’s eyes narrowed. “And they accepted that?”
Obi-Wan hesitated. “Some, did. Enough. And War said it would protect my people.” He looked away. “But not necessarily my father or Anakin.”
Jango pursed his lips, but then nodded. “Good.”
“Good?” Obi-Wan repeated.
“You’re right, your people didn’t deserve to suffer. I should have known you would do something for them if you could. But Qui-Gon and Anakin? They don’t deserve to be saved by you offering to get yourself killed. Not when they could have saved the people themselves.”
Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, but he… he couldn’t fully disagree. He wanted to have been enough to spare Anakin and his father. But… but he could not help but remember the fact that they could have ended this.
“They wanted Anakin’s magic.”
Jango didn’t look impressed with that. “Plenty of people survive without it.”
Obi-Wan didn’t have an answer for that. He had his own questions he wanted answered anyways.
“How did you know where I was?”
There was a flicker of emotion in Jango’s eyes, but it didn’t stay long enough for Obi-Wan to decipher it.
“You seem convinced I didn’t just have good timing.”
“Did you?” Obi-Wan asked quietly. He met Jango’s gaze, not sure if Jango would answer, not sure that if Jango did, Obi-Wan would be able to decipher lie from truth.
Jango met his gaze for a long moment before glancing away with a sigh. “There was a degree of good timing. I’d already slayed the cockatrice. Not sure if I would have been able to save you so easily without it.”
“But…” Obi-Wan prompted.
“But yes, someone told me where you were.”
Obi-Wan examined Jango’s face for a long moment. “It was War, wasn’t it?”
Jango didn’t seem surprised that Obi-Wan had guessed correctly. “Yes.”
“And he told you to save me.”
“He told me I could save you. And that if I did, that you were mine to take.”
Obi-Wan scowled at that. “I’m not a thing.”
The right of Jango’s lip quirked up in amusement. “No, but you are mine.”
Obi-Wan shook his head slowly. ”Jango—“
“No,” Jango interrupted. “You offered yourself to the gods in sacrifice to your people. The gods offered you to me in return.”
Obi-Wan hesitated, not sure how to respond. Jango was right, he just… didn’t understand why.
“Why?” he finally asked. “Why did the gods give me to you.” He raised a hand at that. “If they did. Why?”
Jango let out a frustrated sigh. “Why do the gods play any of the games the gods play?”
Obi-Wan had no defense against that either.
“Jango,” he pled quietly. “What am I missing?”
Jango’s jaw clenched. “What do you want me to say, Obi-Wan? That I’ve dedicated every quest I’ve taken and every monster I’ve slain to the gods with a prayer that I could finally have you? That when War told me that he’d convinced the gods to accept your offering if I could prove myself worthy, I lept at the chance?” Jango leaned forward. “You offered yourself, Obi-Wan. I didn’t force this or make this happen. The gods just gave me the chance to take advantage of it.”
Obi-Wan hesitated, but then felt himself deflate. Was he truly so upset that it was Jango that had taken him when the alternative had been to be eaten by a sea creature? Hadn’t he thought so many times that he wished he could say yes to Jango? That he could forsake his duties and marry him? Wasn’t there a part of him that wanted to be Jango’s?
Jango was right. It was Qui-Gon and Anakin who incited the gods ire, it was Obi-Wan who had placed himself as the sacrifice, it was Jango who had stepped in to play his own role.
“Well,” he said slowly. “I suppose I should be grateful you wanted me enough that the gods were willing to spare me for you.”
Jango snorted, but he was smiling again. “You know what you should do. Is you should show me just how grateful you are.”
Obi-Wan blinked innocently. “You’d like me to go find a sacrifice for the gods this very instant.” He set the tray of fruit on the stand on his side of the bed, making to climb out from under the covers. “If you insist.”
Jango surged forward, grabbing Obi-Wan by the waist and pulling him back into the bed. “You’re not leaving this bed for the rest of the day,” he growled, the words sending a thrill down Obi-Wan’s back. “I expect to feel throughly thanked by the time we’re done.”
Obi-Wan turned in Jango’s arms, leaning in so he could kiss him. “As my rescuer demands.”
Jango smiled and turned them so that Obi-Wan was pressed down into the bed. “Well then, if we’re letting me make the demands…”
Jango’s heartbeat was comforting in his ear where he lay with his head on Jango’s chest. “What now?” he asked.
Jango’s hand paused in it’s comforting trail up and down his arm, before he started again. His voice sounded careful when he answered. “We marry,” he said finally. “That’s what happens now.”
Obi-Wan frowned. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He did. In fact right now there was little that he didn’t want more than that.
“That easy?” he finally asked. “You save me, we marry?”
“Easy,” Jango repeated, sounding a mix of amused and exasperated. “I’ve been trying to get you to marry me for two years, Obi-Wan. There’s nothing easy about marrying you.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at that. “Would you have me any other way?”
Jango snorted at that. “You mean, would I have rather married you two years ago instead of wondering just what it would take to convince you that we could be happy together and that, yes actually, you should marry me?”
“It was never a question of whether I could be happy with you,” Obi-Wan protested. “I told you I loved you. I just…”
“Love your people more,” Jango finished for him. “I told my father that, once, and he told me that I’d finally found someone who would be as good for Mandalore as they would be for me.”
“He must have been rather disappointed when he realized I was Coruscanti.”
Obi-Wan could feel Jango shrug. “He said if I loved you, it didn’t much matter.”
The words came as a surprise. If he’d told his father about Jango he would have gotten a very different answer.
“So he won’t be disappointed?”
Jango snorted. “My father’s been planning our wedding ever since. He’ll be ecstatic.”
Obi-Wan shifted at that, frowning a little. “Jango,” he said slowly. “What if I had never said yes? What if this had never happened? Would you have ever allowed yourself to be happy with someone else?”
Jango sighed. “It did happen.”
“But if it hadn’t?”
“Obi-Wan,” Jango started slowly. “I don’t think you understand. I would have married you. Call it the will of the gods, fate, something else altogether. I would have married you, no matter how things had played out.”
Obi-Wan brought his hand up to rest on Jango’s chest. He didn’t believe in fate, and he didn’t think Jango did either. Jango’s skin was warm and firm beneath his hand, rising and falling steadily. Jango had always seemed so steady though. If Jango had known they would marry, it was because Jango had been unwilling to settle for anything less.
It made him think again of Jango’s offer back on the tower.
“Would you have really conquered us?”
Jango let out another heavy sigh, then pressed a kiss into Obi-Wan’s hair. “When I made the offer I was serious. It would have solved all of the problems. It would have protected your people from the wrath of the gods. It would have allowed me to marry you.” Jango ran a hand through Obi-Wan’s hair. “But would I have randomly conquered your people and risk you hating me for it? I don’t think so.”
Obi-Wan let out his own sigh. “I suppose we’ll never have to know.”
He felt Jango hesitate. “No,” he said finally. “We’ll never have to know, not now.”
“It’s really not that hard, Obi-Wan,” Jango told him, laughing. Obi-Wan knocked his hand away, grabbing the cloth back.
“It’s not that hard when certain people aren’t trying to interfere,” he retorted.
He dipped the cloth into the polish between them, bringing it back to the armor he was cleaning.
They’d just finished a training session and Jango was teaching him—for the seventh time, and Obi-Wan wondered when Jango was going to stop pretending to teach him and just admit that he didn’t want to leave Obi-Wan—how to properly polish his armor.
“You missed a spot,” Jango teased.
Obi-Wan glared at him. “I will put this back on and fight you.”
Jango just smirked. “And lose.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t deny it. He was a good fighter in his own right, but Jango had trained for it with an intensity that Obi-Wan never had, add in the armor that Obi-Wan was still learning how to wear, and yes, he tended to lose their spars.
He was getting better though, Jango was determined that Obi-Wan would be.
Apparently, it wouldn’t do for Jango to beat him too easily in their marriage spar.
He’d been told that Mandalorian marriages were simple, but apparently the Mandalorian definition of simple did not match Obi-Wan’s own.
The weddings in Coruscant certainly hadn’t demanded a spar. Though Obi-Wan had also had to do far less ‘people planning’ as he might have had to if he was getting married in Coruscant.
Despite the fact that Jango was heir to Mandalore, there was no need for a fancy political affair, just Jango’s family and close friends.
Obi-Wan’s hand faltered in its polishing at the thought.
Obi-Wan’s family and friends would have been there as well. But they were all under the impression he was dead.
The one time he’d tried to send a message to Coruscant, to his father and Anakin, it had burnt to a crisp.
The phoenix feather that had fallen into the space the message had been had made it clear that the gods would not find his sacrifice complete if he could end the grief of his people or family.
“What a lovely pairing,” came a low voice behind them. Obi-Wan froze, the voice far too familiar for having only ever heard it once.
Beside him Jango hesitated for a moment before turning around.
“War,” he said easily, confident.
Obi-Wan followed his lead and turned.
War was sprawled across a bench, watching them with his fiery, dead eyes.
“Tell me, little prince,” War said, ignoring Jango. “Was your sacrifice everything you feared?”
Obi-Wan frowned, not liking the way it’d been phrased. “I don’t fear Jango,” he said slowly.
War’s face contorted in a mocking little smile. “With how often our little warrior over there begged for you, one would think you hadn’t wanted him in return.”
Obi-Wan glanced at Jango, but Jango’s face was calm and composed, the only worry a flash in his eyes.
“I loved him. But I had my duty to my people.”
“Ah, ah, ah,” War said, as though Obi-Wan had finally caught on. “Your sacrifice.”
It took Obi-Wan a moment to understand. “My sacrifice, it wasn’t being taken by Jango, or eaten by a sea creature?” The words came slowly and for the first time it truly made sense. “It was to give up my ability to do my duty to my people.”
War raised an eyebrow, his silence demanding an answer.
Obi-Wan felt a seed of anger twist in him.
What did War want him to say? That there were nights when he lay beside Jango and worried what was happening. Worried that his father wasn’t fulfilling his duties any more than he had when Obi-Wan had been thirteen and his mother had died. Worried that Anakin was learning how to be a chosen one instead of a king. Worried that no one was pouring over the reports from the people, dividing the taxes to where they were most needed, doing the simple, boring tasks that came with protecting a people.
“Anakin and my father would have stepped up in my absence,” he said quietly, it was something he told himself over and over.
War smiled.
Obi-Wan felt his stomach drop.
“Your father is convinced, even further, of his righteousness.” His smile went sharp and cruel. “Didn’t foresee that, did you. When the gods took you instead of your brother’s magic he decided it was a sign.”
It was not something Obi-Wan had considered. Yet hearing it said aloud, it did not surprise him either.
“The gods gave them clemency,” War said slowly. “And they have run out of time.”
“Why are you telling me this,” Obi-Wan whispered.
“I’m not,” War said and then slowly turned to look at Jango. “Well, little warrior? Do you answer the call of your gods?”
Obi-Wan’s breath caught.
Jango’s hand found his own, squeezing tightly.
Obi-Wan was too frozen to respond.
“What do the gods ask of me?” Jango asked evenly.
War’s fingers danced through the air, leaving a trail of fiery figures engaged in battle.
“A king can not reign without the gods; remove him.”
Jango’s hand tightened around Obi-Wan’s again. “I wi—“
“No,” Obi-Wan burst out. “No. There’s… No.”
War and Jango both looked at him. Jango’s gaze was soft, understanding, but also determined.
“You promised me that the people would be saved. That my sacrifice would protect them from the gods’ wrath,” he said, glaring fiercely at War.
“They were. The steel of a sword is hardly the work of the gods.”
It was when the gods demanded it, Obi-Wan thought angrily, but didn’t say it.
“No,” he repeated. “I’m the heir to the throne. If you wish for my father to lose his power, then send me. Not an army.”
War looked surprised and delighted. “You’d kill him, then?”
Obi-Wan hesitated. “I would ensure he could not be King.”
“And you would leave your warrior behind to do so?” War made a tutting noise at that. “I gave you to him. I don’t like it when my gifts are ignored.”
He heard Jango’s breath catch.
This time it was Obi-Wan’s turn to squeeze Jango’s hand.
“What normally happens when two rulers marry?” Ob-Wan asked simply. It hadn’t happened for centuries, but Obi-Wan was willing to bring back the tradition of combining two kingdoms. “I am Jango’s now, as much as I am my people’s. And if that does not satisfy you, then I will name a worthy king from my former advisors and I will return here to Jango’s side.”
But no matter what, he would not allow his people to be killed.
“You’re not returning to me if I’m coming with you,” Jango muttered just loud enough for Obi-Wan to hear.
Obi-Wan pretended not to, even if his heart twisted in gratitude.
War seemed to think this through, but then slowly nodded. “You have a month.” War leaned forward. “Your father deposed, and your brother with him. The gods care little for who reigns, so long as it is not them.”
Obi-Wan wanted to argue that Anakin didn’t deserve that. It was their father who’d offended the gods. And Anakin had been sixteen, too young to have been able to have seen the gods’ demand to give up his magic as anything other than a destruction of his very self.
Their father had ruined Anakin; Obi-Wan wished he’d somehow been able to stop that from happening.
“It will be done,” he said simply.
War eyed him, thoughtfully. “I look forward to seeing it done.”
From one moment to the next War was gone.
Obi-Wan let out a heavy breath, bending forward so that he could rest his elbows on his knees, pressing his face into his hands, taking a moment to realize what had just happened, what he had just agreed to. “I can’t believe I’m about to lead a coup.”
Why? Why couldn’t his father have admitted he was wrong? Why couldn’t he have just set aside his pride? He claimed to cherish Anakin, but his actions had brought this down on the both of them.
“What do you need?” Jango asked, the question given simply, as though all Obi-Wan needed to do was ask it and Jango would give it to him.
“Messengers,” Obi-Wan decided. “I need to gather an inner circle.” Quinlan, Siri, Bant, Luminara, Depa, a few others. Most of them were out on quests or seeking adventure, but most of them had declared themselves to him. And many, like Depa, Siri, and Quinlan, had parents in Qui-Gon’s inner circle. He thought that Mace, Adi, and Tholme would side with him even without their children, but he would stack the cards in his favor regardless.
“Done,” Jango said easily. “As many as you need.”
Obi-Wan nodded gratefully, before moving on to the next step. “I need spies.” He frowned at the thought, but it was necessary. “I want to have a sense of what’s going on in the kingdom and in the court.”
Jango shifted a little uncomfortably and Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at the behavior. “There may already be spies in place,” Jango admitted.
“Since when?” Obi-Wan asked in surprise. Yes, it wasn’t uncommon for kingdoms to spy on one another, but he’d have thought Jango would have mentioned it to him by now.
Jango shifted uncomfortably again for a moment before he straightened. “There’s been one for the past several years, ever since we met. I sent in several more after I took you. I didn’t think we were done with Coruscant quite yet, though I didn’t necessarily foresee this.”
Obi-Wan stared at him, not sure what to think about the confession.
“You were spying on me?”
Jango shrugged, jaw clenched and eyes unrepentant. “I couldn’t be there to protect you.”
“Who was the spy?” He shook his head. “On second thought, we will discuss this later.”
“All right,” Jango conceded. Jango looked like there was nothing he’d like less, but Obi-Wan trusted him to hold to his word.
“There’s one more thing I need,” he said slowly, part of him doubted his choice, especially after learning about the spying, but he held firm. “Let me gather my inner circle, but before we go… I want to already be married to you.”
Jango blinked, surprise clear in his eyes before it was replaced by delight. “Yes.” Jango leaned forward to kiss him. “Yes, Obi-Wan. No question.”
“I didn’t really think there would be,” Obi-Wan admitted.
It wasn’t necessary for his coup, but he wanted to be married to Jango. Wanted Jango to be by his side, not as the prince of another land, but as Obi-Wan’s husband.
He let Jango kiss him again before pushing away. “I need to plan,” he explained. “I do have to launch a coup in the next month.”
“Obi-Wan!” Obi-Wan looked up as the door opened and Bant came crashing through, running straight past the Mandalorian guards towards him. Obi-Wan signaled to the guards that everything was fine just as Bant reached him, throwing her arms around him.
Obi-Wan hugged her back. Bant had grown taller, he realized. Now nearly his height where once she’d been the smallest of all of them.
“How are you doing?” he asked as they finally pulled back.
Bant straightened, smile brilliant. “I’m officially a healer now, I’ve been acting as a traveling healer, or I was until your messenger found me.” Her smile faded. “He wouldn’t tell me what was going on, just that you were in Mandalore. He wouldn’t even explain to me how you weren’t dead.” Tears formed in her eyes. “I’ve spent months mourning you, Obi-Wan.”
“I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone,” he explained quickly, reaching out to pull Bant back into a hug. “I sacrificed myself to protect the people, if it was known that I was alive, it would have negated the sacrifice.”
“But you’re telling us now?”
Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. “The rest of everyone should be arriving today. I’ll explain then.”
Bant worried at her lip for a moment, but then nodded. “It better be a good explanation.”
Obi-Wan let out a half laugh. “Oh, it’s something, all right.”
“Soo…” Bant crossed her arms over her chest, giving him her best ‘you better tell me everything’ look. “What exactly is going on with you and the heir to Mandalore.”
Obi-Wan winced. “That’s part of the explanation, actually.”
Bant looked a little put out. “And you can’t even tell me, your best friend, before the others arrive.”
“Best friend!?” The door had opened again and Quinlan was sauntering in, the guard trailing him looking exhausted. Obi-Wan felt for him, Quinlan could do that to a person. “I’m his best friend.” Quinlan waggled his eyebrows at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan noted that he had a new scar cutting just beside his eye. “And what’s this I hear about you and the heir to Mandalore?”
“I’ll explain everything,” Obi-Wan repeated. “When we’re all together.”
“Who is all?” Bant asked, voice curious.
“The two of you, Luminara, Siri, Garen, Depa, and Bruck.” He’d had a few others, that he’d hoped to have here, but they hadn’t been found in time.
“You invited Bruck?” Bant asked aghast while Quinlan made a disgruntled sound.
“He’s my cousin,” Obi-Wan pointed out. And they weren’t children any longer, squabbling constantly and needling at each other.
“You’re like third cousins,” Quinlan said grouchily. “I don’t think that actually counts.”
Obi-Wan ignored him. “He’s actually been at court recently,” Obi-Wan told him. “We’ll need that.”
“Need that for what?” Bant asked exasperatedly, though Quinlan had perked up a little, eyes narrowed in what Obi-Wan recognized as his scheming face.
“I’ll explain as soon as everyone is here,” Obi-Wan promised. He glanced at one of the guards. “Have we heard anything about the others?”
“The last of them just entered the city,” the guard said. “You only have to hold off these two for another hour at the most.”
The door opened again and Siri and Depa strode in together. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you were alive,” Siri snapped, breaking off her conversation with Depa to stride closer.
“He’ll explain everything,” Bant said protectively, despite the fact that she’d said much the same thing. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile.
“Sorry Siri,” he said quietly. “I do have a good explanation for that.”
“You better.”
Depa glided past Siri to wrap her arms around Obi-Wan in a hug. She had been the oldest of all of them, and had become their friend mostly because they’d all followed her around like a gaggle of ducklings who found everything she did to be amazing. “It’s good to see you. Father sent me a message when you died. We were both devastated. He’ll be glad to hear that you are alive.”
Mace had been the one of Qui-Gon’s advisors who had been most in Obi-Wan’s corner growing up, helping him figure out how to be a crown prince when Qui-Gon was too far in his grief to do so himself.
“I didn’t want to make anyone grieve for me,” Obi-Wan said apologetically. “I didn’t feel there was a better choice.”
Depa smiled softly. “I have no doubt that if you thought it was necessary, then it was.”
Her faith, simple and genuine, tugged at his heart.
He’d missed all of them. They’d grown up in the castle together until they’d slowly all started out on their lives, Quinlan, and Siri to be heroes, Bant to become a healer, Depa training as an ambassador, Garen to captain his own fleet of ships.
Garen and Bruck both arrived within the next hour and Obi-Wan glanced at the guard again. “He’ll be here in a few minutes,” the guard said quietly. “He wanted to give you a chance to say hello.”
Sure enough, Jango entered the room only a few minutes later, crossing the room quickly to reach Obi-Wan’s side, and then without so much as a hello, pulled Obi-Wan close to kiss him. The amount of passion behind the kiss meant this was more than just a kiss hello, but Jango making a point.
Obi-Wan smiled into the kiss, he was Jango’s, but Jango apparently wanted to make sure everyone else knew that as well.
There was a wolf whistle in the distance that Obi-Wan recognized as coming from Quinlan and Jango finally ended the kiss.
“Think they got the message?” Jango murmured.
“I don’t think they could have missed it if they’d tried,” Obi-Wan pointed out, but he couldn’t help smiling.
He pulled back completely, glancing at his friends to see a mix of expressions on their faces.
“So…” Quinlan said, breaking the silence. “Are you going to explain now?”
Obi-Wan sighed, but took his seat, Jango sitting next to him, to start explaining.
It took longer than it should have to get through the story. None of his friends were particularly good at just listening, instead all interjecting every few sentences. Quinlan, in particular, had a great deal to say about King Qui-Gon’s life choices.
Obi-Wan had almost—almost—forgotten just how little respect Quinlan had for his father.
It had started more than one fight between them when they’d been younger, but Obi-Wan found that there wasn’t much he could say in his father’s defense in this situation.
When he got to the part about sacrificing himself, his friends went silent and grim. Beneath the table, Jango took his hand.
Obi-Wan pushed through, explaining what Jango had done, the deal War had made with Jango that if he saved Obi-Wan than Jango could have him. It earned Jango a mix of grateful and suspicious looks, and Obi-Wan had to back up for a moment to explain that he and Jango had been in something close to a relationship for over two years, that Obi-Wan had wanted to be with Jango but had not felt that he could.
Once he no longer had to worry about Quinlan or Siri—who had been the most suspicious of his friends—causing problems out of some sort of misunderstanding about what, exactly, Jango had done, he jumped back to the rest of the story. About how War had come to them and demanded that his father and Anakin were deposed, because they could not rule without the support of the gods.
“So you want to lead a coup,” Depa summarized at the end of it.
From the end of the room Bruck let out a snort. “Is it really a coup if Obi-Wan was already doing all the work anyways?”
It was a strangely nice thing for Bruck of all people to say.
“Yes,” Depa said dryly. “It still counts as a coup.”
“Well, I’m in,” Quinlan said cheerily. “My father is as well.”
“Glad you speak for Tholme,” Obi-Wan said dryly.
Quinlan made a face. “Father does his duty, but he’s always said his duty is to the people, not the crown. You’re easily better for the people than Qui-Gon.”
“There has been… discontent,” Bant said slowly. “The people believe that Qui-Gon was the one to sacrifice you to the gods, and he did very little to correct the misconception.”
Bruck shifted uncomfortably. “He promoted it, actually,” he finally admitted when everyone looked at him. “He was trying to spin it as he loved the people so much he was willing to give his first born to the gods.”
Obi-Wan’s stomach twisted painfully and he tightened his hold on Jango’s hand.
“Probably wouldn’t have been far from the truth, if he’d realized it was a possibility,” Quinlan muttered, and it was clear he thought it was quiet enough Obi-Wan wouldn’t hear. “Minus the bit about loving him.”
His father did love him.
Just… he didn’t know how to show it. If he hadn’t been willing to sacrifice Anakin’s magic, surely he wouldn’t have been willing to sacrifice Obi-Wan’s life.
“And the people didn’t take it well?” Obi-Wan asked Bruck and Bant, ignoring the way his heart felt like it’d been stabbed.
“About the same time he took credit for it, someone spread rumors that you’d been fulfilling many of Qui-Gon’s duties,” Bruck admitted. “It didn’t help that you were doing so many of his duties and the people noticed a distinct lack of aid from the crown that they normally got.”
Obi-Wan frowned. “Nothing serious?”
Bruck shook his head. “Mace and Adi stepped in.”
That was a relief, though it was frustrating—yet not entirely surprising—to learn that neither Qui-Gon nor Anakin had stepped up to fill in the hole Obi-Wan had left.
“On the bright side,” Siri interrupted. “That could very well mean it’s not going to be particularly difficult for you to overthrow Qui-Gon. You probably won’t even have to kill him.”
Obi-Wan wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for Siri’s practicality or to be annoyed by the blasé way she said that sort of thing.
“I’m hoping that’s true,” he admitted. “I’ve been planning and… well, I rather think I’m going to keep this coup simple.”
“How simple?”
Obi-Wan placed his hands on the table. “I rather thought I’d walk into the council chambers and tell him I was taking over.”
“You know—“ Quinlan was sprawled over a chair, legs over the arms of the chair in a way that looked surprisingly graceful. “—I’m not sure if you marrying the heir of Mandalore is surprising or the most natural thing in the world.
Obi-Wan glanced at him from the corner of his room where he was carefully putting his armor on. After months it was finally starting to feel natural to wear it, but this was not just any occasion.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Siri chimed in, “that we all had even bets whether you’d marry someone like Quinlan or someone like Depa.”
Obi-Wan blinked. “Pardon?”
“It was either going to be sheer sophistication or sheer chaos, Obi-Wan,” Bant said, sounding apologetic. “There was really no other way for you to go.”
“And is Jango—“
“Chaos,” all of his friends said in unison.
Obi-Wan frowned, considering it.
“He can be sophisticated,” he argued. “He’s—“
“No waxing eloquent,” Quinlan interrupted, making a face. “I’m sure he’s just lovely.”
Depa sighed from the table where she and Bruck were going over contingency plans to Obi-Wan’s admittedly straight-forward plan. “He’s getting married, Quinlan. Let him wax eloquent if he wants to. I would love to hear more about their story. I don’t think I heard so much of a hint that Obi-Wan had any sort of relationship at all.”
“What was that all about?” Garen asked. “I get not telling Quinlan, it’d have been all over the kingdom in days, but none of the rest of us?”
“I can keep a secret,” Quinlan protested.
It was truer than most people realized, though Obi-Wan didn’t step up to defend him. Quinlan was the son of Tholme. Tholme was not just a member of the king’s council. He was the secret finder, the rumor spreader. It was a position that Obi-Wan had long known that Quinlan would fulfill for him when he became king.
Part of him suspected that Quinlan was less surprised about him and Jango than he was acting. There was no way Obi-Wan had possibly managed to keep it from Tholme, and Tholme considered it Quinlan’s duty to be prepared at any moment to step up for Obi-Wan. An entanglement between Obi-Wan and Jango would have not been a small thing.
“I… I didn’t think I’d ever be able to have it,” he admitted, answering Garen’s question. “It’s been several centuries since the last time two kingdoms were combined. Mandalore and Coruscant?” He shook his head. “We’re as different as night and day. But he was the only heir to Mandalore and… and I…” He shifted uneasily, focusing on the vambraces of his armor for a moment, staring at his reflection in the gleaming silver metal. “I didn’t trust my father,” he admitted finally. “That he’d do right to our people, that he would raise Anakin to do right by them.”
It was quiet at that, and he knew that silently his friends all agreed. It hurt a little. Hurt worse because it had been proved true. It wasn’t that he was irreplaceable. He knew he wasn’t… But there had also been no one to step up if he were to step back. If his father didn’t have his council then Obi-Wan’s sacrifice could have been disastrous for their people.
He cleared his throat, pushing past the silent acknowledgment. “So if I didn’t ever speak of it, I could pretend that there was nothing. And if there was nothing… If there was nothing, then I couldn’t hurt.”
It hadn’t necessarily worked, but he also knew it would have hurt so much more to have made the thing between him and Jango any realer than it had been, to always know there was something he couldn’t have.
Bant’s voice was soft, understanding. “Well, I’m glad you have him, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan smiled, putting on the last piece of armor, finally ready. “So am I.”
“Come on, Obi-Wan,” Jango teased, shifting slowly in a circle, eyes bright with joy as he taunted Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes in return, moving slowly in turn. They had an audience, Obi-Wan’s friends mixed with Jango’s, and their good-natured cheers filled the wedding hall, echoing off of the tall ceilings.
“Come now, cyare,” Obi-Wan teased, watching Jango’s eyes spark in pleasure at the endearment, “you’re the one who claimed you’d pin me.”
“Oh—“ Jango’s voice had gone low and husky; a thrill ran down Obi-Wan’s back. “—I assure you, I’ll show you all the ways I can pin you down.”
Obi-Wan laughed. “Not sure all those will be appropriate for an audience, dear.”
Jango smirked. “Oh, did I forget to mention the other Mandalorian wedding traditions.” For a brief moment Obi-Wan’s mind went blank and Jango surged forward.
The next moments were a blur of movement, Jango pressing forward while Obi-Wan steadily moved back, neither controlling the movement for longer than seconds as the other would gain the advantage.
It was like a dance, twisting beneath Jango’s arm to come up behind him, only for Jango to go low and turn, forcing Obi-Wan to jump to avoid his legs being swept out beneath him. A forward lunge met with a nimble step to the side.
It felt as though he had always fought with Jango, the movements smooth and perfect, despite them only having fought together the last several months.
The dance continued, their audience cheering loudly for them each in turn.
Obi-Wan had never felt so light, so free and he found a laugh escaping him, lighting him up from the inside out.
This, this was all he’d ever wanted.
Jango pinned him eventually, just as Obi-Wan had known he would. His hands around Obi-Wan’s wrists, holding to them ground as he leaned over Obi-Wan.
“Kiss me,” Obi-Wan whispered and Jango did just that, leaning down to close the distance between them.
Around them, their audience cheered, the sound almost deafening.
Jango pulled back eventually when they were both running out of air. “Are you ready?” Jango asked, and there was something almost vulnerable in his eyes.
He’d never been more ready for anything in his life.
Quinlan and Bruck stepped in front of them, both giving the doors a hard shove allowing Obi-Wan to stride into the council chambers without breaking stride.
In the center of the room King Qui-Gon and his council all looked up.
There was a moment where the room was silent, everyone staring as Obi-Wan strode into the room, Jango at his side and Obi-Wan’s inner circle behind them, acting as his entourage.
It was Mace who stood first, before even his father. “You’re alive?” his voice came out low, with a surprising depth of emotion from the normally stoic man.
“Surprisingly so,” Obi-Wan agreed. “The gods had mercy on me, just as they did on this people.”
“What happened?” Tholme asked, his gaze was darting from one member of Obi-Wan’s entourage to the other, pausing on Quinlan for a moment. Obi-Wan could see the moment Tholme put together just what was happening.
There was a flicker of conflict in his eyes, but then he nodded.
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to explain just what had happened when his father’s voice broke through. “Obi-Wan?” He stood from his seat, slow and unsure. “You’re… alive.”
It was difficult to make out his father’s tone. Relief, he was near certain was at least part of it. But there was… something else.
Some bitter part of Obi-Wan wondered if his father was disappointed to have his first heir back, someone who, by all rights, would be first in line to the throne over his more powerful second son.
“I am,” Obi-Wan answered again. “As I said, the gods had mercy on me.”
His father shifted. “The gods told us that you’d sacrificed yourself.”
Some of the council stirred at that.
Clearly his father had tried to tell even some of the council that he had been forced by the gods to choose between his people and his son and had chosen his people.
“I did,” Obi-Wan said easily. “It was not my life that I sacrificed, instead my ability to do my duty to protect the people.” He met his father’s eyes. “And it clearly was a sacrifice, since you did not step up to do your duty in my absence.”
A flash of anger crossed his father’s eyes. “I have always done my duty to this people.”
“No,” Obi-Wan answered, and it was hard to keep his own anger from filling his voice. “You didn’t. You haven’t in a very long time.”
He couldn’t help but remember the nights poring over reports and paperwork, trying to figure out how to protect the people from things that couldn’t—or shouldn’t—be beaten with a sword. The nights where he couldn’t sleep at all, terrified that he was failing. The times when he turned to Mace or Adi and begged them for help that they were always quick to give, but that they should never have had to.
“They call me a good king.”
“Because they’ve never had to realize that you don’t care,” Obi-Wan said simply. “Because I was always there to do it for you.”
His father stepped back as though he’d been slapped. “That’s—“
“As heir to the throne, I call you unfit for duty, King Qui-Gon.”
His father’s eyes widened. “You’re… You’re not my heir. Anakin—“
“Was I disinherited?” Obi-Wan pressed.
“You were dead!”
“I was not,” Obi-Wan said plainly. “And if I was not disinherited than Anakin could not have received my inheritance.”
“You—“
Jango stepped up alongside Obi-Wan. “I would be careful what you say next, King Qui-Gon,” he said coolly. “People who speak poorly of my husband in public don’t tend to speak again.”
That brought the room to a sudden shocked halt and Obi-Wan wondered if that was what Jango had intended. Though he and Jango should probably have a whole conversation about that whole ‘don’t tend to speak again’ part of that statement.
“You and Fett?” Adi asked, glancing between the two. “That is… a new development.”
Tholme snorted, sounding all too smug. “Only if you’re oblivious.”
The entire council stared at Tholme as though he had two heads. “The heir to Mandalore there has been pursuing Obi-Wan for years.”
Jango shrugged.
“You married Jango Fett,” his father sounded shocked, like Obi-Wan kept ripping the floor out from under him, time and time again.
Obi-Wan supposed that in some ways he rather was.
“Mandalore stands alongside Coruscant,” Jango said. “And we support it’s true King.”
“I’m—“
“If you were a true king,” Obi-Wan interrupted quietly. “You would not care about a prophecy only you believe in over the lives of our people.”
“And you think you’re a true king?” his father snapped. “You think—“
“No.” The word cut his father off and Obi-Wan shrugged. “I don’t think I am a true king. But I know I’ll try to be. And that’s better than the alternatives.”
“You—“
“Qui-Gon—“ Mace sighed as he slowly pushed back his chair. ”—I have long considered you my friend, but in this I stand with your son.” He stepped away from the table and joined Depa in standing behind Obi-Wan.
Adi followed a few moments later, coming to stand next to Siri.
Tholme came next, resting a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder briefly as he passed to stand next to Quinlan.
Slowly most of the rest of the council stood as well, and those final few who clearly didn’t want to support him apparently did not want to support his father enough to be left behind, joining in.
His father looked as though he’d been impaled, face a stark white.
“If that is how the council feels,” he said stiffly.
“I’ve prepared a home for you,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “The library is stocked with your favorite books, you can study your prophecies to your heart’s content.”
Something bitter crossed his father’s face. “I see you have everything planned out, then. And Anakin?”
“I will be arranging for him to study in Naboo for a time, there is an academy there that will suit him.”
“Getting rid of both of us, then.”
Obi-Wan met his gaze coolly, even as his heart twisted in pain. “I wish I hadn’t had to.”
The stone of the parapets was warm under him as he leaned forward, gazing out on the kingdom. His coronation had gone well. The people had been grateful for his survival, rumors have spread, rumors that were far closer to the truth than most rumors ever were, and many believed Obi-Wan had saved them, not once, but twice. Obi-Wan suspected the rumors had started with Quinlan and Tholme, but he said nothing about it.
He couldn’t stop a rumor even if he tried.
“It’s strange to use the stairs to get up here,” came Jango’s voice from behind him and Obi-Wan turned.
Jango stepped onto the parapet, coming to lean against the stone, pressed against Obi-Wan from shoulder to hip. Obi-Wan leaned into the touch, letting his head rest against Jango’s shoulder. “It’s not going to be easy, you know,” he said quietly. “I’ll have to stay here, and you’ll have to split your time between here and Mandalore.”
Jango hummed an agreement. “I know. But I knew when I married you what I was getting into. And I spoke to my father and one of your advisors, Mace, about beginning building a new castle.”
“A new castle.”
“One on the border of Mandalore and Coruscant. For when our two kingdoms become one, we’ll be perfectly positioned to lead all of our people.”
Obi-Wan found himself smiling, soft and fond.
“All of our people,” he agreed simply.
It was silent for a moment and then Jango turned, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist, raising an eyebrow in question.
“No kidnapping,” Obi-Wan warned, wrapping his arms around Jango’s neck just as Jango pulled them both into the air.
“It’s not kidnapping if you’re my husband,” Jango retorted. Obi-Wan sighed, wrapping his legs around Jango’s waist and letting himself get comfortable as Jango pulled them, up, up into the air.
“Look at it,” Jango murmured. “Look at our people.” Obi-Wan looked.
It was beautiful.