Chapter Text
He was nine when he realized that the Jedi weren’t what he thought and that even light years from Tatooine slavery was alive in the Republic.
“It would be unwise to remove the chip given its location, Padawan Skywalker,” Master Vokara Che said coldly. Or maybe that was just the way it felt to Anakin. The Jedi lied. “Your Master has deactivated it, so it's best if we leave it.”
Anakin had never felt more alone; even when he and his mother had been lost in a bet to Watto and Anakin had left all the slaves he knew at the palace, he’d had his mother. Now he had no one and no freedom.
“Ready to go Padawan mine?” asked Master Obi Wan, that sad but sincere smile on his face, as he offered Anakin his hand.
Oh Anakin thought, this was how the Jedi got you: they made slavery look pretty.
He was nineteen and punch drunk on the highs and lows of the last week. His love was returned by a woman who wanted to share his burdens and joys, but his mother would not see it.
Anakin had one other task on Tatooine, though, and Padme had been thrilled to help. He freed his childhood friends and set them up with the resources needed to start a liberation movement. It had been the only good thing on the Force forsaken planet.
“Uncle Ani?” one of Kitster spawn asked as she’d climbed Anakin as though he were a jungle gym. “What was it like when the Jedi freed you?”
“The Jedi didn’t free me, little one,” Anakin whispered. “The Jedi won me in a pod race.”
Kitster and Wald had both heard and startled at the news. Wald’s mate had ushered Anakin to speak with Grandmother, the oldest slave in the Mos Espa. She made an announcement, but Anakin didn’t listen.
He knew she was warning the others that Anakin was not included in plans for liberation. A slave to another master couldn’t be trusted not to rat them out after all.
But then he was fighting to save his brother/master/father/friend and his Angel. And just as quickly was joining hands and hearts with his wife. And then being shipped off to war.
He was twenty and they’d given him a padawan. They’d literally granted him a child to teach to be a Jedi when Anakin wasn’t certain he counted as a full Jedi. Obi Wan certainly treated him like a child, but then Anakin had seen other Masters do the same with their former Padwans, so maybe that didn’t mean anything.
Either way he was screwed. He couldn’t leave this child alone.
“I don’t want her on this mission.”
“Anakin, be reasonable,” Obi Wan sighed. “Our bond through the force will allow us to be more in tune with each other than a team of clones and would ensure that we could--”
“I don’t want her on this mission!” Anakin.
“Anakin, I’ve already told her about-”
“I don’t care,” Anakin interrupted. “She is 14 years old. You have no idea what they’d do to her, Obi Wan. No idea. She can’t go on this mission!”
“Alright, Anakin,” Obi Wan answered. “I don’t have time to argue with you, so aside from you Padawan, who should come with us?”
“Kix; in case they’ve been chipped already.”
“Thought you might want to know we’re attacking the Zyggerian homeworld. Actual battle won't be for a few days, but it should definitely buy you some time to do some rapid rescues.”
Anakin ended the holocall before Wald’s mate could even say anything. He knew they’d come and prayed it would work out.
“What the kriff did she mean by that General?” Kix growled the second he and his Jedi were alone.
“Nothing, Kix,” his general answered looking at the wall behind Kix. “Nothing.”
“Poodoo,” Kix glared at his General, the one he used on shinies who put off coming to the medbay for fear Kix would report them back to the Longnecks as defective. “She said you’d been a slave and I want to know how the kriff as Jedi could ever have been a slave?”
What his general read him in on over the next hour left Kix reeling. He wanted to scream, or shoot something, or steal his general away to some mythical planet where there was no war, no brothers bringing up stuck points, and no other Jedi. Maybe the little commander, but only her.
“We seem to have tail gentlemen,” Obi wan said as pointed to the scanner from where he sat slumped over the table. Anakin looked up from where he’d been in a conversation with Ahsoka, attempting and failing to justify why he’d left her behind with Commander Cody and later Master Plo, but not explain, to see the ship Obi Wan was talking about.
“Sir we’re receiving a hail,” the trooper--One of Plo’s Pack-- manning the comm station said.
“Achuta,” Kitster said once his hail had cleared. “We are no threat to you Master Jedi, but we just wanted to call and offer our thanks to Anakin Skywalker for the heads up that there was an opening on Zygerria.”
Anakin’s breath caught in his throat as Obi Wan and Master Plo turned to look directly at him. He steeled himself against feeling and locked down his shields. He knew there was nothing to fear, but Zygerria’s screams were still ringing in his mind.
“We,” it was Wald speaking this time, “are a group of escaped slaves looking to end slavery in the galaxy. That said we are few in number and resources and this strike was a boon to us.”
“The Jedi thank you for your mission,” Master Plo intoned and Anakin let the Force have his anxiety with those words. “Knight Skywalker is on the call if you would like to speak with him”
“Ani?” Kitster asked, hesitantly. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”
Anakin felt his whole being swell at the unasked question. Do you need us to storm the ship for you? His childhood friends would fail; the Jedi and the clones were too good to allow themselves to be defeated by what Anakin knew to be a band of two dozen escaped slaves and a True Mandalorian, but the offer was appreciated. And besides, Anakin couldn’t leave, even if the chip was removed. He had Ahsoka and the 501st depending on him to be there.
“I’m fine, Kit,” Anakin answered. “Were there any casualties on your end?”
“No, we’re all fine. Mer is currently where he likes best, surrounded by younglings telling tales of supercommandos. We were able to get about 300 hundred out, so thank you,” Kitster said his tone wistful.
“May death find you alive and free Kitster Banai,” Anakin called out in the slaves’ traditional fashion.
“May death find you alive and,” Kitster stumbled over his words as if he was hesitating. “May death find you alive, Corvinctum Skywalker.”
Ice shards filled Anakin’s chest and he forgot how to breathe at the title given to the worst of slaves. The lowest, most vile form of slavery that all slaves knew well and fought tooth and nail to avoid. Corvinctum, heartbound, slaves were those slaves who didn’t need chips or collars to hold them loyal to their masters. No the heartbound loved their slavery and when given the opportunity to escape refused.
Anakin had never thought he’d be okay with the idea of dying before.