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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

I couldn't recognise the very reflection of the young man gazing back at me from the full-length floor-to-ceiling mirror as I cautiously approached it. Brushing my calloused fingers over the light, the silky navy blue fabric of the puffy sleeves tapered around my wrists embroidered with silver. Padmé insisted on having a small wardrobe of clothes made and tailored for me rather than my old ragged, bloodstained garments. If there's one thing you should do, it never says no to a queen when offered such a gift. That woman had the kindness and patience of a saint. If anyone deserved new clothing, it was Anakin. He was still a growing boy, after all. Yet here I stood in living quarters fit enough for that of royalty or noblemen, wearing clothes that would have cost me a lifetime of credits to earn.

Padme was waiting, perched on the edge of a bed, eager to hear my thoughts on the outfit, hands clasped under her chin, nodding joyously with approval. I throw her a brief smile over my shoulder before turning back to the mirror. I was just honestly stuck for words.

I'd never worn such properly fitted clothes with such vivid colour before in my entire life, having been used to Tatooine's dull colour palette and threadbare clothing most of my life. Yet I stood, enveloped in varying shades of blue from head to toe. The high-necked, snug, intricate silver detailed waistcoat, dark, almost black blue, accentuated my waist a little; one side was more prolonged and short, and the other had two rows of four ornate silver buttons and four silver chains bound to one on the first row wrapping around my side. Another fastened to one in the second. My tailored trousers are duck egg blue tucked into over-knee boots similar in colour to my shirt with silver pointed toes and heels.

"So, what do you think?"

"I've never used to believe that I looked this handsome before," I turned to peer over my shoulder in the mirror. On the waistcoat front to the left, I noticed a beautiful silver and blue floral brooch that reminded me of the flower Qui-Gon had given me to secure a two-layer cape over my left shoulder. The first was ombre, blue at the top and bottom but gradually darker in the middle with a slight sheen. The other was sheer light blue and twinkling with small diamonds, "As a slave, you had to go by unnoticed and not stand out in a crowd that was almost unacceptable..." I grin as I pick up the edge of one of my capes, feeling the light, silky material between my fingers before dropping it to look in the mirror again, "Now all I can say is that I'm pretty damn handsome."

"Oh, certainly can't disagree with that," Padmé voiced agreement from behind me.

I couldn't stop eyeing every detail; my hair had been tied into a neat bun and braided on either side of my head. I could smell different colognes, something that had been hard to come by on Tatooine, and sat upon a table in other shaped colour bottles.

It's when Padmé comes to my side that reality strikes me hard. I wore the most expensive clothes I'd ever owned, gifted by the Queen of Naboo. Turning to face her, I bowed to her like my family had worked for the Gardulla the Hutt; it was expected of us, or we'd be punished, and that one time, I forgot about losing my family's meal privileges. So I remained to stare at the ground at Padmé's, toes of her gold shoes and gorgeous dress arms ramrod straight at my side.

"Thank you for this generous gift, Your Highness," She gently laughed from beside me.

"Ambrose, honestly, please, you do have to do that," she dismissed kindly, and I stood straight back up to find her beaming back at me, which I returned, "We're friends, after all; there's no need for such formalities. Well, not in private anyway."

"I know it's just sometimes I used to overdo it with the formalities because I didn't want to get punished. But I'll worm it out of my head eventually," I let pipe up, letting out a small nervous laugh, now feeling embarrassed.

Padmé's delicate small hand now brushed against my larger one and wound her fingers with mine. She gently tugged it, and I turned to face her. Then, smiling at me, she took my other hand and lightly squeezed it warmly and comfortingly. The previous day and a half had been filled with emotion and comfort; I had consoled Obi-Wan in his grief for Qui-Gon and, afterwards, my brother once he had heard the news of the Jedi Masters' death. I had fallen asleep with Anakin weeping into my shirt with no chance of letting myself let out my pent-up emotion.

"I won't say that people won't judge you because of your past, but unfortunately, it's how some people work and operate in this galaxy. Nonetheless, it shouldn't define you. You determine who you are. You're free, no longer an 'enslaved person' Ambrose Skywalker of Tatooine. You're a courageous man who has opposed what he believes is right. So if and when they try to bring up the past, take it in your stride and don't mean a thing. I know it'll take time not to act on those actions. Before you know it, Tatooine will seem like a distant memory. And soon, will have a whole new life ahead of you. So hold your head high, be brave and dashing as the clothes you wear," she finishes adjusting the brooch.

A throaty laugh now escapes me and brushes away a tear that had run down my cheek, "To think you speak so well, I should've noticed you were the Queen. It was a pretty neat trick you pulled on all of us."

"That was the whole point you weren't supposed to notice."

"I don't know how the Jedi didn't figure it out either. I thought they were supposed to notice things like that."

"Maybe they were told not to pry. besides, I thought Jedi were an honourable people?" Then, curious, I see her frown before glancing in my direction, "Has Obi-Wan spoken to you recently? I heard Members of the Council are arriving soon, and he would like to be there, but I haven't seen much of him today."

"No," I shook my head, "The last time I saw him, he was overseeing the transport of Qui-Gon's body. Never saw him after that, and nobody else I've spoken to has either. So he probably wants the time alone to grieve in peace. It... It can't be easy what he's going through," I continue with a shrug, "But he'll need to when the Council show up. It's his duty; I know Obi-Wan is a man of duty and sticks to it during difficult times."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

Not long afterwards, Padmé sent me in search of Obi-Wan, and when I crossed paths with one of the handmaidens, they mentioned to me someone last saw him in the palace gardens. And that's where I find myself. The breeze was crisp against my face, and a subtle floral scent was in the air. It felt peaceful here, the perfect place to escape from other people.

I go further into the garden until I come across Obi-Wan sitting underneath a canopy of vines, leaves and flowers in a meditative state, one I didn't wish to disturb.

"Uh, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Ambrose?" He asked me, currently facing the wall of vines as I stepped off the flagstone path and onto the grass.

"I hate to disturb you even if I didn't want to. But Queen Amidala wanted me to inform you that the Council will be here soon and that your presence is required at the main hanger."

I watch him rise to his feet and quickly straighten out the tabard of his tunics with a sharp tug before gathering his brown cloak and dusting it off before pulling it on, "Thank you for telling me it would be quite rude of me if I didn't show my face."

He was somewhat stunned when turning to face me, not expecting to see me dressed head to toe in such finery, but I couldn't help but squeeze and touch my bandaged hand in worry that he didn't like what he saw. But let's say I left him a little speechless.

"I...I have to say you look rather handsome," he compliments me. I look down at my new garments and blush slightly, feeling embarrassed. It had to be the first time anyone had spoken to me in such a way.

"Uh, thanks," I returned my gaze to Obi-Wan's eyes, which today were a more subtle shade of blue, almost grey, a timid smile upon my lips, which Obi-Wan returned with a nod, "It wouldn't look right to with me walking around in a palace with ratty battle worn bloodstained clothes when there's no battle taking place I would just look..."

"That you would look uncivilised," he offered me a brief teasing expression. I can't help but smirk, recalling our previous conversation two days prior.

"Yes, extremely uncivilised," speaking in a hushed tone like it was something scandalous. But soon as I saw Obi-Wan smile, even if it were for a brief moment, it soon disappeared. He approaches the flagstone path offering his arm out to me, bent at his elbow like I was Naboonian royalty.

"Would you like me to escort you back into the palace?"

I laughed, blushing slightly, and went to take his arm, but honestly didn't care what it looked like. I could be more like myself now, "Yeah, sure would love to."

We now wandered back down the path, ducking under some leafy fronds that brushed our heads as we went. Still admire the beauty of the world despite the pain I have experienced and seen.

"Ambrose..." Obi-Wan began to speak from beside me, and I looked at him in question as he plucked a white stalk of delicate flowers from a bush.

"Yeah, Obi-Wan?"

"I've been trying to think of a way to thank you for consoling me yesterday. I was at my most vulnerable and had been genuinely touched by your kindness, yet I couldn't express it at the time, but I want you to know it didn't go unnoticed," he offered in a warm tone as he had done in the forest.

Having watched him, the expression of sadness I had been feeling crumbled away. That sorrow replaces it and opens me up like a book; my guard is gone, and emotions are on display again. I tighten my grip on Obi-Wan's arm, hugging it close.

"You don't need to thank me for anything," I uttered, "Everyone deserves comfort, especially in the worst of times when they need it most. But again, I'm sorry for your loss. I really am. Qui-Gon had a kindness that no other man could ever match. It's almost like losing a father. Anything I say won't ease your loss, but it's the best way to express my sympathies."

We stopped before the place entrance covered in the shade of decorative overhanging moss, which bloomed tiny white flowers that almost gleamed from the sunlight as I turned to face Obi-Wan with a frown on my lips.

"Thank you, Ambrose," he returned softly, "I know you are still pained by his loss that you were grateful to him for freeing you and your brother. You have every right to be upset, Ambrose. However, his compassion touched your heart, and I know his absence is scary," he offers me the stalk of flowers as a token of comfort and appreciation. I loosen up, a low laugh escaping me as I accept the flowers, pinching the stalk between my fingers. I am not seeing Obi-Wan gazing at the pale smattering of scars all over my sun-kissed hands from working in a junkyard on Tatooine. I brought the flowers to smell them and smiled wider before clearing my throat.

"I...I uh probably should let you head over to the hangar now. Thanks for the flowers. I like them," with a half smile, I gazed down at them and back up at him, trying to imply the flowers weren't the only thing I 'liked' stepping inside the place; I gave him one last smile over my shoulder before walking away my mission complete capes rippling like a cover of stars in the vast reaches of space.

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It came in that very evening. As the sun set, a small group gathered to pay our respects to Qui-Gon Jinn. The funeral had been held in an open-air funeral temple overlooking the captivating landscape Naboo bathed in a dusky light. We're gathered around a pyre where Qui-Gon's body rests, standing in silent vigil as the surrounding flames burn his body. Those who had attended were members of the Jedi Council, Queen Amidala and her handmaidens, Obi-Wan, Boss Nass and the recently elected Chancellor Palpatine and palace guards.

I held Anakin up against my hip as I used to when he was still a toddler, not caring if my fancy new clothes got wrinkled. His arms wrapped around my neck, sniffing quietly into my shoulder and rubbing his cheek against me. I would comfort him now and then, rub soothing circles into his back and kiss the crown of his head as we watched our saviour engulfed by flames in unbearable silence.

Soon enough, the air smelled less of burned wood and more like that charred flesh. A scent I would get used to and can never forget still makes my nose wrinkle up as it had back then, yet as I now sadly smiled, spotting the purple flower I had left on his body Qui-Gon's tucked behind an ear wilting it had relaxed in the heat of the flames, and soon it would be gone. From the corner of my eye, Obi-Wan shifts toward me and offers him a weak smile over my brother's head, which I feel move to face Obi-Wan as well.

"What will happen to us now?" My now brother inquired to Obi-Wan hood drawn up the flames casting shadows across his face.

"The Council has permitted me to train you, Anakin. I promise you will be a Jedi, " Obi-Wan responds gently to my brother.

Who now peered up at me with wide eyes full of excitement, fear and sadness. I didn't miss that Obi-Wan had only addressed my younger brother and not me. Not one word had been mentioned about my being accepted for training. All I could do was kiss Anakin's head and graciously smile. Sure, it had stung, but I could take it on the chin and move on because I knew it was coming. I pressed my cheek against his head and gazed back at the flames. Then, as my brother tightened on me, I gently offered him comfort and reassurance in Huttese.

"B-but what about my brother? What about Ambrose?" my brother rushes out.

"Ani," I try to reprimand him silently, "You need to keep your voice down."

"Your brother will be trained," Obi-Wan disclosed as my eyes widened at the recently appointed Jedi Knight as he nodded to confirm this, "The Council has agreed that you too are to be trained to be an apprentice to Master Yoda, his first in many years I believe."

I was sure they would never take me on for training as I felt disbelief wash over my body. The odds had been stacked up high against me. I was too old and a danger to myself, and by that, who'd be my teacher? Anakin gripped me tightly again, this time with excitement, and I kissed his head and gazed back at the pyre again. Qui-Gon had granted his wish; after all, mine and Anakin's future were now in the hands of the Jedi.

Many hours later, the fire died on the pyre, and the funeral was over. I stood by the railing of the stone bridge connected to the funeral temple gazing out into the night-covered landscape. Waterfalls crashed in silence in the distance below, bringing up clouds of mist as the stars twinkled above me. Leaning forward on the railing, I saw a tiny white flower from Obi-Wan's blooms had given me lands on the stone. Pinching it between my fingers, bringing it closer, it matched the other flowers in my hair that I had tucked, each tiny blooming into the braids on either side of my head. I honestly didn't care what I looked like as a young man with flowers in his hair. Then, letting the flower go, I watched it fall, drift, and tumble to the depths below.

"Skywalker," Master Yoda's gruff voice now addresses me. I straightened up and turned to face him as he approached. Then, out of respect, I dropped to one knee and bent my head. Another flower dropped off my head, listening to the quiet clacking of his staff on the stonework as he came closer.

"Master Yoda," I raised my head, meeting his gaze as he stood a few feet away grim expression, browline lowered over his eyes. I now wet my suddenly dried-up lips and nod, "Thank you for agreeing to take me on as your apprentice."

"Many concerns about you I have," Yoda informed, getting straight to the point. I puckered my lips and again nodded, eyes on the floor, "Emotionally connected, you are tough to let go for you it will be. Letting your emotions rule over lead you to the Dark Side it will; it entices and seduces the darkness. I sense a great deal of good in you, Skywalker and the Force is strong in you. The dark is hiding and waiting. So determined you must be for this journey to begin."

I nod, recalling what I had told Anakin a few days before we could prove the Council wrong to make them believe we weren't a threat. Peering up briefly, it had been evident in Yoda's tone and expression that this had panned out wasn't ideal.

"Master Yoda, I know you were concerned for me when you had spoken of them at the Council meeting. I swear to embark on this journey with all seriousness and determination. I promise to learn all you can teach me and not stray off the path. From this moment onward, right here, I'm indebted to you," I assured him, looking back down again, waiting for a response.

The air unexpectedly altered around me. Yoda hummed, taking a few steps closer to me. With the end of his staff, he gives my chin a nudge. I was looking up to find him with his staff raised, seemingly to knock it against my chin. Although his expression had been stern and composed, it shifted into something lighter.

"Reassuring your promise is Skywalker. Forget this; I will not. Begin your training will, when back on Coruscant we are."

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A Jedi's uniform almost varied in shades of tan or brown, something I'd gotten used to over the years and already had become familiar with. That morning after Qui-Gon's funeral, I had the pleasure of dressing myself in the many layers of Jedi clothing. An undertunic following that of a tunic and tabard. All of it was secured with an obi and leather belt, hugging the layers of fabric at my waist. It was all off-white and much heavier than I was used to but soft. The pants were made of the same material and colour and paired with that brown knee-high leather boots to finish off an outfit that was all too similar to that of a slave.

I look at myself in the mirror as I stand there now, feeling right in the garments of a Jedi, from the belt around my waist to the leather boots pinching my ankles. The sandy colours complimented my tanned skin. Turning from side to side, I neatened up the hems taking in my new attire at every angle. A grin I never knew appeared on my face out of utter glee and excitement. I, Ambrose Skywalker, was to become a Jedi. A long-lived dream I had had since childhood, something I had thought impossible given my age. Yet there I stood wearing the very clothing of a Jedi brushing against my skin that I had never thought I'd wear at nineteen.

Now briefly running a hand through my shoulder-length chestnut brown locks, I knew it would be the last time I'd see it like this for many years. The uniform hairstyle of a braid and tail would be given to me, and Obi-Wan informed me he'd be the one to aid in cutting my hair. And nobody else who I trusted more than anything to do. Turning away from the mirror, I spy my outfit from the day before hung up on a clothing rack.

Finding Obi-Wan's living quarters took time, even if he had told me where it was. But, eventually, I did find his room with said Jedi Knight standing before the doors. We exchanged pleasantries and went inside. A stool was placed before open windows, and a table beside it was laden with a set of shears, hair clippers, two different yarn colours, a comb and some hair clasps.

"Shall I?" I gestured towards the comb.

"Of course," Obi-Wan insisted as I began combing out any knots or tangles before they became almost wavy and soft to the touch, "When did you last have a haircut?"

"Dunno a few years ago, can't often afford it on a slave person's wage," I shrugged, putting the comb down and sitting on the stool facing out the window.

Without warning, Obi-Wan ran his fingers up through my hair, his warm fingertips gently caressing the skin of my neck that I had to hold back the shiver as he gathered it up near the nape of it. Some then are sectioned off just behind my right ear, "Would be a shame that I have to cut it then."

"It's okay. I'm starting a new life after all, right? A new one that requires a change, and I suppose now is time for a change," I uttered with a smile as Obi-Wan pushed some hair over to my left and held it back with the hair clasps.

Now coming over to my right, he began to weave three strands of my hair into a thin braid with such precision that he told me he had years of practice doing his hair. The braid is finally tied off with an orange cord at jaw level. The Remainder is wrapped around a knot. I see him pick up the small silver shears. An inch was left beneath the tie-off. Whatever remained, he cut off the hair fluttering to the ground. I sense him standing behind me once he puts down the shears.

"Your Master is the one who should normally be doing this," he takes out the hair clasp and rakes his fingers through some untangled knots in my hair, trying to pretend not to enjoy it when as a matter of fact, I did. I feel his section off a piece at the back of my head and twist it to create a tail, "Regrettably, Master Yoda had more urgent matters to attend to before the parade. So he has entrusted me to perform the ritual."

"A ritual, huh?" I repeated with a frown. Obi-Wan grabs more black twine out of the corner of my vision, wrapping it around my hair.

"Well, it's not a ritual per se. A Padawan braid represents the status of a learner; hence your Master will be the one to teach you and guide you through this change only makes sense. Your Master also must remove your braid once training is complete. So it's, as they say...a tradition. Not a ritual by all means," the shears are picked up again, and I hear the snipping of a sharp blade cutting through hair until a small chunk of hair comes away from my head.

"I take it you've done this before?"

"Yes, I have. Anakin's hair has already been through the change, and I always used to keep the charge of my own when I was a Padawan."

"Is it going to be short like yours?" I asked, his fingers briefly carding through my hair again, moving to the right of me, gently sectioning and straightening another piece of hair. It was the traditional style of a Padawan to have buzzed hair, a braid and a short tail at the back of your head-a visual representation of your learner status. I could sense Obi-Wan smirking from behind me.

"Would you rather it not be cut short?" he recited in question as I shrugged and my fingers ran along the newly acquired braid.

"No, after all, it's hair. It'll grow back," I had now quarrelled about having my hair cut the traditional way; besides, I wasn't that attached to it. Obi-Wan chuckled from behind me, sliding his fingers along my hair, smoothing it out and tugging at the scalp a little.

"It's a traditional hairstyle, of course, but the Temple or the Order do not dictate how you style your robes or hair to look as long as you maintain the Padawan braid until you become a Jedi Knight. The tail is also a staple. If you wish to grow your hair out in the future, I'm sure there would be no objections," he explained, my hair being pulled away from my head, "Are you ready for the change?"

I nodded, and Obi-Wan began slowly cutting and clipping my hair silently. A small pile of chestnut brown hair started to form on the ground.

"So, do the colours of twine mean something?" I asked, breaking the comfortable silence after picking up the remaining orange cord. The material felt rough and thin but was firm. More Of my hair fell to the floor.

"Yes, each colour signifies a stage of you're learning. Orange comes first, red, and then so on," he verified as I recalled the twine he had on his braid, now an absent memory. Some more hair comes off, "At the end of it all, you'll have quite the collection of colours."

"Suppose it jazzes up the robes a little, right?" I joked tediously, picking up the hem of my tunic sleeve. Obi-Wan chuckles behind me, sounding a little more uplifted since Qui-Gon's passing which I can't help but smile about.

"It certainly does."

We continued to talk comfortably to pass the time. Obi-Wan asked about my life on Tatooine. I spoke of my mother and Watto living under the rule of the Hutt clan. In exchange, he told me stories of his adventures as a Padawan and the many planets he'd been to on missions. Before we knew it, my hair was done, and my head felt lighter. Hair no longer brushing my shoulders or framing my face. My hands go up to touch my shorter locks. The change is now complete.

I reach my feet and move towards a medium-sized mirror hanging on the wall. So soon as my eyes caught my reflection, I froze, the moment becoming real. My hair hadn't been this short before, but it was now the reality that I, Ambrose Skywalker, am now a Padawan-going to pinch the short braid fingers sliding along it. A responsibility to be a future protector of the galaxy to do my duty to keep everyone and everything safe, something I had craved ever since I was a young boy. One that I realised was dangerous and life-committing. But I was willing to take it head-on. Even if it made my robes now feel heavier than they had earlier.