Jedi Insurgency 124

The air in the mausoleum was thick with silence. Dust floated in the faint shafts of sunlight that pierced through the cracked stained glass, casting muted colors over stone effigies of Naboo’s fallen monarchs. Obi-Wan stood before the sarcophagus of Padmé Amidala, his cloak drawn tight, as though to ward off the chill of memory.

He hadn’t thought to come here, but the palace maid had been insistent. Once they had come across a pair of Blackwing virus infectees, his heartstrings had been tugged, and his mouth became dry. The Queen, he had anticipated, but the other…she was a friend he had debated long into the night, one he had saved on more than one occasion, and was the apple in Anakin's eye. In other words, she was like a cherished niece, or close friend. 

Drawn to her intellect, compassion, and fiery temper, Obi-Wan almost found himself jealous of his young protégé, that he saw so much of Satine in Padmé hurt him to his core. 

Anakin's betrayal had emotionally affected the two of them more than any other in the galaxy. That fateful night, he had lost a brother, and she, a lover. He had known that she might come back…but he had placed that thought at the back of his mind, he did not want to face her, to answer her for his failures. Anakin was his to raise, and that scab that had only begun to heal felt as if it had been ripped off as he beheld her glistening, beautifully tragic face. 

“Obi-Wan.”

The whisper slid through the air, soft and uncertain, yet unmistakably alive. His heart faltered. Slowly, he raised his chin, and met her brilliant brown eyes. 

There she stood, Padmé Naberrie Amidala, former Queen, former Senator, and all around strong woman, one of the toughest in the galaxy. Her eyes were wide and glistening, filled with confusion and something rawer: fear.

“By the Force…” Obi-Wan breathed uncertainly, yet hopeful, his composure was beginning to crack, as he held out a hand in wonder. “Padmé?”

She stepped closer, each movement tentative, as if testing the strength of her legs, that each step felt ethereal, or unreal. “Where, where are my children?” She asked, her voice trembled as she spoke. “Luke, Leia… Obi-Wan, tell me they’re safe.”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. “They are…” He began, then forcefully coughed into his hand to steady himself and regain some modicum of composure. “Bail Organa took them in. They are hidden, safe from the Empire’s grasp.”

Relief swept over her face, and tears of relief spread down her cheeks. “Thank the stars.” She murmured, and then, her expression hardened with maternal fire. “And Anakin? My husband? What has become of him?”

The question cut deeper than she could know. Obi-Wan’s shoulders tensed; his gaze fell to the floor. Words failed him for a moment. When he spoke, it was scarcely above a whisper.

“Anakin…is gone, Padmé.”

Her brows furrowed. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”

He lifted his eyes to her, his gaze was haunted, and filled with an indescribable burden. “He fell. To the Dark Side. He serves Palpatine now…as Darth Vader.”

Padmé’s breath caught. For a moment, her face was still-so still, Obi-Wan worried she had gone into shock-then she closed her eyes and drew in a long, steadying breath. “So it’s true, the darkness I felt in him…it consumed him.” She opened her eyes, and Obi-Wan saw something familiar in them. That same fighting spirit that she wielded in the Senate had once more gripped her soul. Although she had been traumatized, Padmé was not weak. 

‘Neither are you.’ Qui-Gon's voice silently reassured. 

“My poor Ani…What are we doing about this? I know that I was…gone, for quite some time.” She said, looking down at the ground, she then looked up, and began to speak with fiery conviction in her voice. “Bail, Mon Mothma, the Jedi, what have you planned to stop Palpatine’s tyranny?”

Obi-Wan hesitated. Before he could answer, the temperature in the mausoleum seemed to drop. A presence stirred behind him, it was commanding, and beat in sync with the hum of the Force itself.

Padmé’s eyes darted past him.

Obi-Wan turned.

A tall figure emerged from the shadows between the crypts, a dark cloak of shadows flowing like smoke surrounded him. His mask gleamed faintly in the fractured light, and appeared ominous within this setting accustomed to death. 

Padmé shivered as a cool spring air disturbed the dust, and blew the dust motes randomly across the room. It was as if his arrival was the harbinger of chaos. 

Obi-Wan had witnessed miracle after miracle following this man around, and whilst he believed he would ultimately triumph should they come to blows, he was unnerved every time he made an entrance. To discount this uncomfortable feeling, Obi-Wan tutted his head, and opened his mouth for a sarcastic remark. 

“So melodramatic. Must you scare the ladies like that?” Obi-Wan clicked his tongue, then turned to Padmé, and briefly hugged her to shield her from the chill. “My dear Senator Amidala, this is the response that has Emperor Palpatine on edge.” 

“Who are you? I've met all the most famous Jedi, I would think Master Yoda would be the one leading the charge?” Padmé, clinging to Obi-Wan's side looked at the masked man with narrowed, scrutinizing eyes. 

Obi-Wan rubbed the bridge of his nose in consternation. ‘And there it is! She may be smart, but she has a mouth on her.’ 

The masked man came a step closer, and leered down at her, the eyeholes in his mask blazed white, and seemed to see through her very being. Padmé glared back, yet Obi-Wan felt her grip slightly begin to tremble, and he squeezed her reassuringly. 

“Revan, release this aura, you are frightening the lady.” 

“So you are Revan? I seem to recall that name during my studies? He was a famous figure during the Ruusan Reformation, correct? When researching for avenues towards peace, I read up on the last few times that the Republic engaged in a major war. Revan's name was quite prolific, his deeds were on par with Anak-Ahem, have the Jedi revived this role, this symbol of Revan to combat the Empire?” Padmé gathered herself, and didn't allow her fear to show. 

A dark chuckle resonated from the masked man, and even Obi-Wan began to feel somewhat unnerved. If he hadn't just witnessed Revan purify all of Theed, he would have drawn his lightsaber, and confronted this clearly deranged Dark Adept there and then. 

Padmé's tilted head, and worried glance at Obi-Wan said it all. She was practically screaming, is this man insane?!?! 

“It would be more accurate to say he and the Revan in those histories is the very same.” Obi-Wan whispered. 

Padmé briefly lost her composure, and her face formed an O in shock. 

Obi-Wan commiserated with her. Learning that one of the most prolific war criminals in history was their ally was not necessarily comforting. As evidenced by his current cloak of shadow, and creepy glances at Padmé’s body, it was no wonder that the Senator felt uncomfortable. 

Padmé shook her head, and began to assert herself. Although Revan was acting strangely-when did he ever act normal-the former Queen was not made of kindlewood, and would not snap under this bit of pressure. 

Padmé took a step forward, her expression tightening into something fierce, sharp as when she’d once faced the Senate itself.

“Revan.” She repeated, her voice carrying a quiet defiance. “That Revan? The fallen Jedi, the conqueror, the warlord who turned his back on the Republic and nearly destroyed it?”

Obi-Wan’s gaze darted between them, uncertain whether to intervene.

Padmé pressed on, each word was spoken with greater strength and conviction than the last. “You were a hero once, yes, but also a traitor. You razed worlds, enslaved countless peoples, and in the end, your crusade nearly broke the very Republic you now claim to defend. And we’re meant to trust you?”

Her tone was cutting, but her eyes, those bright, unyielding eyes, were searching. She wanted to believe that Obi-Wan had brought hope, that there truly was a plan in place to bring about change. Yet her recent experiences had jaded her to so much, that hope was like the most vile of poisons. The more she hoped, the darker depression, and melancholy stained her veins. 

Revan stood motionless, his mask reflected the subtle hue of sunlight that entered the chamber. For a long moment, there was only silence. Then he chuckled once again, this time it was low, and sardonic, almost as if it held a hint of chastisement. 

“Ah, Padmé Amidala. Still the same passionate politician even after experiencing death. A simple thank you would be nice. You may not be aware, but your city was diseased. It was me who healed you, me who cured your people.” Revan turned to look at a nearby bust, and spoke in a patronizing tone. 

Padmé glanced at Obi-Wan, to which he responded with a subtle nod.

“Thank you for your help.” Padmé said between gritted teeth. “But my point stands. One good deed does not make one a hero.” 

“I see the history books on Naboo have not been kind.” Revan's voice was smooth, and tinged with arrogance. “You speak of my failures as if you’ve lived through them. But what have you lived through? A girl who was but a child when power was thrust upon her, were you nothing more than a puppet? Did you know that your people are on the brink of civil war? That your unilateral decision to make the Gungans equals has caused a rift amongst Naboo's two largest political factions?” Revan turned his back to them, and pretended to admire a simple copper cup. 

Padmé was silent in the face of these accusations, and Obi-Wan sensed her anger & hurt that she felt as some of Revan's words rang true. 

“I was no puppet!” Padmé hotly declared a moment later. 

“Oh? The galaxy you loved was already rotting when you were a child. Now a women grown, and you refuse to see reason. If even the Jedi, with all our supposed wisdom couldn't see past Palpatine, why do you, girl, think yourself so grand?” Revan turned to them, and slowly approached. His form rippled with shadows, and the grip on Obi-Wan's wrist tightened once more. 

“Revan.” Obi-Wan spoke in warning. 

Obi-Wan tensed, and prepared himself to act. He didn’t know how he would react to this provocation, but Jax and Yon standing silently behind Revan were silently pressuring him. Padmé’s lips parted in indignation, but Revan’s tone grew more resolute, and commanding.

“If the Republic is to rise again, it will need more than dreamers and martyrs, it will need warriors. I will be the spear that pierces the Empire’s heart. Whether you welcome my aid or not, I will restore the Jedi to their rightful place as guardians of balance, not servants of complacent bureaucrats. The Senate and its worlds will answer to a higher standard, mine.”

Revan stepped ever closer more, so close that Obi-Wan could feel the strange balance of cold & warmth that radiated off his form. His next words were mocking, yet resolute, they resonated with truth, and seemed to echo in the Force: “You ask for a plan when already I have done what your precious democracy could not. I convinced several Clone Legions to turn from the Empire. I burned Kamino’s vats to ash, ensuring the Emperor could breed no more soldiers. I freed the Dugg slaves of Malastare, cleansed Eriadu’s filth, and tore down its corrupt nobles, securing its forges for the war to come. That is what action looks like, my lady.”

Revan's masked face tilted slightly as he regarded Padmé. “You had conviction. But conviction without force is like light without heat, beautiful, but cold to the touch. To live is to suffer, as someone who has witnessed such atrocities, and been kidnapped so frequently, I would have thought that you understood.”

Padmé’s eyes flared with anger. “You dare lecture me?” You who waged war against your own people? Who shattered the Republic in your arrogance? Who are you to speak of my futility?”

“Padmé.” Obi-Wan murmured, raising a calming hand. “Please-”

But she was past restraint now, her voice began to rise with fury and grief. “You’re no savior, Revan. You’re no better than Vader! You claim to fight for the Republic, for freedom, but you bring ruin in your wake just as he does. You bend worlds to your will and call it salvation. By your own words, you devastated Kamino, and murdered the ruling class on Eriadu. They deserved to stand trial, not execution! Tell me, how are you any different from the Empire you claim to combat?”

Revan’s laughter echoed through the chamber, rich and dark, reverberating off the mausoleum's marble columns. “Ah, now there’s the fire I had foreseen. Perhaps there is more of the warrior in you than you admit.”

Padmé’s glare did not waver. “I am no warrior. And I pray the galaxy never needs another one like you.”

The shadows surrounding Revan seemed to gobble up the light, and darkness twisted around the three figures. Obi-Wan looked from one to the other, between Padmé’s righteous fury and Revan’s cold conviction, and his jaw was clenched. His entire life, he was raised on principles that aligned with Padmé’s, yet experience had shown him the truth of Revan's words. Order 66 had been a wake up call, the Jedi were in need of reform. The question was, should he allow himself to be complicit in Revan's vision? 

This debate, this argument over principle, it inspired both hope, and dread in him. 

As he was deeply mulling over both their points, and the future that they envisioned, the whisper of a ghost met his ear. 

‘You can let her go now, Obi-Wan.’ 

Glancing down, Obi-Wan saw that he had been embracing Padmé for quite some time. Yet when he tried to pull apart, she subconsciously moved deeper into his embrace. 

‘Oh?’ Qui-Gon cheekily muttered. 

Obi-Wan wanted to explain himself, that it wasn't like that!...but Revan began to speak once again, and he could only resign himself to the current state of affairs. 

Force help him. 

~~~~~~~

AN: I figured I wanted to include some pushback against Corvus. Not all conflicts can be solved with a laser sword. That's right, in this power fantasy, dialogue matters! 

Imo, Padmé raises some good points. Corvus pretty much acts like an authoritarian, and all of his actions are unilateral. When/if he wins the war, will relinquishing these powers to the Senate be easy? For example, I admire the hell out of George Washington for not becoming a King, and only being President for two terms. That being said, there are a handful of leaders in history who ruled for life & did right by their people or when they died/retired, their country turned to shit without their leadership. It's a tough decision to make. Not one that will be made anytime soon, but something I want to tease/foreshadow.