BY : Acaciah
Category: Star Wars (All) > General
Dragon prints: 3732
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.


Author: Acaciah S


Rating: NC-17

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, OCs

Category: Romance, alt. universe

Disclaimer: All familiar characters & places belong to Uncle George,
the Great Flannelled One, all rights reserved to him. All
unfamiliar characters & places belong to me, with respective rights
to myself. No profits made from any of Uncle George's characters,
just some fun!

Genre: Star Wars Prequels, alt. universe

Summary: What if Obi-Wan had a family of his own? Perhaps he would have been more understanding of Anakin's concerns
for his mother. Perhaps Anakin never would have turned Dark Side at all…

Chapter One

Across the desert, a hot desert wind blew across Acaciah Seremonde’s face. The desert seemed to shimmer onto itself ‘til there was nothing but energy. She felt cold fire, the crackling of lightsaber blades. Acaciah could swear she heard a hoarse mechanical breath in her ear. “Come back to me,” a familiar voice whispered. “Choose well, Acaciah,” Obi-Wan Kenobi’s spirit cautioned her. Spirit? Grandpa?

Acaciah awoke, startled. She flicked the light on in her room, and felt for her grandfather’s familiar presence. He was still asleep, as were most of Jedi in at the Temple. She went to the ‘fresher and ran water over her face. Strange. Why should she dream that Obi-Wan had died? She had dreamt she was in the desert, honoring his passing, promising to help rebuild the Jedi Order, as if the Jedi were all gone. A horrible, repugnant thought. She had never considered that she would ever be anything but a Jedi Knight. The Order was integral to her life.

It almost hadn’t been, though. She had been admitted to the Order in the usual way, but she certainly wasn’t an ordinary Jedi. The Padawan of a blood relative, her grandfather, Obi-Wan Kenobi, she knew it wasn’t common practice to acknowledge kin in the Jedi. It was in the Fiona, and Acaciah knew she was technically part of that group of Force-users as well. “They are estranged Jedi,” Obi-Wan had said of them. “They just don’t want to acknowledge it yet.”

Acaciah’s father, Charles Seremonde, had not wanted his daughter to become a Jedi. The Seremonde family was prominent members of Republican Trade and Transport (RT&T), and had held the Magistrate position of the RT&T station at Alderaan for 10 generations. All that changed when Grandpa Kenobi took her to the Temple to be checked for Jedi potential. Celianthos came to the outing, representing the Fiona, because the Fiona do not send their Force-Sensitives to the Jedi. They train them in their own understanding of the Force. One of the Force Pre-Cogs laid eyes on her and went into a fit of prophecy. “Acaciah will be the Mother of the Jedi,” the Pre-Cog proclaimed. “The Living Force will be united with the balance of the Force.”

“Don’t you mean the Fiona?” Celianthos pressed, dismayed.

“No. She is a Jedi.” The Pre-Cog insisted. “Her children will be Jedi, just like their father.”

Never mind that the Jedi were not supposed to marry, or have children. The Fiona considered it blasphemy. Her parents were horrified, Acaciah mused. They have slowly come round over the years, probably only because Papa is the one training me to be a Jedi. The Council was circumspect in its offer to train her with a relative. Her parents had refused until a Sith Master attacked her in her crib. Obi-Wan, and his then apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, had dropped by to discuss her future when the attack occurred. Even though she was an infant when it happened, Acaciah still fancied she could see it. Anakin was a tall, blond-haired rake with fierce, piercing blue eyes. “Take her to the Temple!” he’d shouted to Obi-Wan. “I’ll handle this!”

Acaciah looked around her room, her eyes settling on a shelf of 18 tiny cubbies. Each cubby held a crystal teardrop, which had been worked into a piece of jewelry. Headpieces, hairpieces, bracelets, anklets, necklaces…everything but a ring. Every year since her birth Anakin had given her a new piece. They were exquisite, and she knew that he made them himself. Seventeen of the spaces had been filled so far, one for every year of her life. Almost time for number 18, Acaciah thought. She looked away, into the Force. The empty desert was still there, shimmering. Things felt radically different there, as if some miscarriage of fate had occurred. Acaciah drew herself back into the Living Force. ‘Papa says I dwell too much on my feelings,’ she thought. ‘In a way, he is right. I am almost too sensitive.’ She looked into the shimmering desert again. The faint sound of a distant drumming throbbed in her ears. She wanted to reach into that desert of cold fire, and wipe its misery from existence. ‘Focus, focus,’ she scolded herself. She resolved to put the dream out of her head until she could meditate on it properly. ‘There is work here to be done.’ She finished dressing and began checking her holonotes. The first came from her cousin Geraint, a Fiona attending Coruscant University. She read it with dismay. Geraint and Janae, his fiancée, were being split up for the summer, and had thought they would be able to keep in touch. Janae’s guardian, however, had other plans, and had barred communications between them. She read Geraint’s appeal, considering it a moment. The Jedi are supposed to be impartial, detached, and Acaciah knew truthfully that she was not. Papa Kenobi would not approve of her getting involved, even if Geraint was family. She was very fond of Janae. She knew the pair wanted to get married when they graduated Coruscant U. She wondered who she knew that might be able to help them. The answer struck her with a smile. Anakin! If anyone could devise a clever solution, it was him. She reached for her keypad, and began:

Master Skywalker,

I hope that you are well. I understand that Daelus V continues to prosper under you supervision. Kiros, Master Jaal’s apprentice, sometimes gives me news of your area.

I am in need of your council, sir. My cousin Geraint, and his fiancée, Janae Ravenas, have been separated for the summer at least and possibly permanently. Geraint has informed me that Janae’s guardian does not wish her to marry him, because he wishes to marry her to someone else, a someone with a bigger pocketbook who would let him keep the last of Janae’s trust fund for himself. He’s blocked her from receiving holocomp messages from anywhere that has a Coruscant ID in its address. That includes Geraint and me.

I am not sure what he hopes to accomplish, as he cannot block them from communicating through their bond in the Force. However, they asked for help and you are the only person I can think of who might be inclined to give it. If you have any suggestions or ideas, they are most welcome. Thank you for your time. Yours,

~A. Seremonde

Anakin Skywalker read the holonote with interest; his eyes flickered over the screen, pausing over a tidbit. Kiros was a friend, Acaciah communicated with him regularly. Hmm…he’d tackle that later. First, to address her letter:

Dear Acaciah,

I am fine, thank you. Daelus V continues to thrive, also. I understand your training is going quite well, and that you’re honing the lightsaber techniques I saw the last time I was on Coruscant. I know that Master Kenobi can be quite sparing with his praise, but I heard you were passing on remarkably.

Your cousin and his beloved would do well to use their Force bond to communicate if Janae’s guardian is not a sensitive. It can still be done if they shield properly. I do not know them personally, so I do not know the extent of their abilities. If they must use holonotes to communicate I would suggest getting Red River Holonote accounts. They have their own network, and it shouldn’t matter where the message comes from. Be warned, however, there’s a virus going around that will hack into any attached files, especially holovid ones. We have had a virus problem in! this quadrant; be circumspect in your communications, they may be scanned or even hacked into.

Finally, I have a question for you, Acaciah. I have a small garden, and I’ve been trying to grow garligrass. It’s not doing well, what can I do to help it?

Always Yours,


Acaciah was delighted. He had responded, and even done so quickly. After passing on his advice to Geraint, she wrote her reply:

Dear Master Anakin,

Thank you for your expedient help and advice. Geraint and Janae are most grateful to you. I also thank you for the virus warning. Kiros and I correspond regularly, and I’d hate to ruin his holocomp or mine!

Papa is stern as ever, by the way. I think my growing up makes him nervous. I suppose everyone who has children or Padawans feels that way. I think he feels it particularly because he didn’t get to help raise my mother. Still, I can’t imagine anyone else as my Master, and Papa just wouldn’t be himself if he weren’t a little gruff, now would he? And you turned out quite nicely, so I imagine I will be just fine.

So, to your garligrass. Give it some nice, fresh black dirt and some 10-10-10 fertilizer and that should perk it up a bit. Let me know if you need anything else for your garden. Yours,

~A. Seremonde

Anakin read Acaciah’s message, searching for some familiarity in it. She had told him years ago that she would miss him and not feel free to tell him of her feelings. Obi-Wan had certainly tried to suppress Acaciah’s intense emotions, not simply as they related to Anakin, but in general as well. Jedi were supposed to be detached, and Acaciah was not from the moment of her birth. They had been connected before her birth, and Anakin knew part of her emotional streak was indeed related to him. Obi-Wan wanted her to have as normal a childhood and youth as possible, and to be a Jedi in the traditional sense, but Acaciah was not destined to be a cookie-cutter Jedi, no more than Anakin was. His lips curved into a slight smile at the thought of her, riding beside him in a landspeeder. “We are not the Orthodox branch of the Jedi Order, dear,” she said in her understated way. It reminded him of Obi-Wan, in a good way. Acaciah was full of the Living Force, and it would have its way, it was just a matter of time…

He continued his work on the holocomp, scanning messages for viruses or other corruptions when her holonote address caught his eye. Another message, this one addressed to Kiros. His fingers lingered over the keypad, ‘til he gave in. He was allowed to read messages if he thought they were infected. He opened and read:

Dear Kiros,

How are you? Things are about the same here as always. Our Dear Friend misses you terribly. The song I sent you earlier, “Destiny,” I accidentally played too loud in my room and Papa was livid. He’s been fussier than normal lately. Actually, he’s been fussy ever since we all hit puberty, who am I kidding? He says he’s getting too old for this sort of thing.

Anyway, to answer your question about the song, “…when I’m down, you breathe life over me,” is an oblique reference to Taravah lovemaking, Geraint says, and its power from the Living Force. The Taravah is a book on using the Living Force creatively on someone you love, if you get my meaning. The text that the song references says, “My Love’s kiss is the Breath of Life, his caress holds the Fire of the Universe…”

There must be something to it, or Papa wouldn’t have turned so rndernder his beard at the song! Geraint and Janae practice the Taravah (more info than I ever wanted to know about them--!) and I also know that it’s supposed to bond you in Life Force with your partner. You can touch even if you’re apart, see with each other’s eyes, and hear each other’s thoughts. I’ve also heard it’s an excellent way to get pregnant quickly, so if you two get curious, be warned. It is the Living Force, after all.

That’s all the news I have of Coruscant for now. Maris, as always, sends her deepest regards. In friendship,


Anakin felt a twinge of jealousy at the letter. She is so formal to me, he thought, and I am more familiar to her than this boy will ever be. How could she learn about Force-bonds and not remember ours? It was the Force itself that had sent her back in time to him, after all. He had been patient. How much longer would he have to wait? He cleared his workstation, wishing to be alone. He went to his quarters, and sat on the bed. The ache in his heart was warring with the slow burn stirring in his loins. He thought of Acaciah, of their bond, how he could feel her life Force when he stroked her in his arms. The slow burn won as he slipped out of his tunics and gripped his throbbing erection. He could feel her as if she were there, he wanted her close. He wanted to make her cry out his name until it was nothing but a moan of pleasure…

Across the galaxy, Acaciah slept fitfully, her body was burning. She was dreaming of Anakin. Oh, it was a no-no, a Jedi Master, not just any Master either, the Chosen One himself. She tried to change the dream, but Anakin would have none of it. If anything, his kisses grew more insistent, her clothes simply disappearing wherever he willed them gone. Everywhere he touched burned sweetly over her aching flesh. She expected that he should be gentle, but he was frenzied in his delight and admiration of her. He reached her mound, parting her open, stroking her with his long, nimble fingers. Acaciah choked back her cries of pleasure, digging her nails into her sheets. Anakin stroked her harder, faster, pulling her nearer to him in the Force. “Vatsama aya nia, mi priana,” he whispered to her.

She moaned. He was getting inside her, deeper and deeper. She didn’t want to resist him anymore.

“Say my name,” he urged. “Acaciah, mi priana, my love, say it!”

“Anakin,” she whispered. Gods, she thought, how am I ever going to look him in the eye again? He’s going to know how bad I want him.

Anakin’s eyes flickered at her thoughts. A wicked grin spread across his face, and he pulled his fingers out of her. Acaciah cried out, lost without his touch.

“You want me, mi priana? I don’t believe you,” he said. “Prove it to me.”

Suddenly shy, Acaciah reached for him tentatively. Anakin sensed her hesitation, and pushed her back. He didn’t want tentative. His Acaciah has never been hesitant, she knew him well, and knew what he desired—unless he had summoned the real Acaciah over their bond. He smiled, how sweet, she needed to be seduced. He’d teach her well. She’d known more about men than a teenage girl ought to when he’d met originally. Now his suspicions were confirmed. He took her hand and guided it to his brow.

“The Living Force,” he said, “gathers at certain points in the body. Feel mine.” He guided Acaciah’s hand from his brow to his lips. Understanding spread across her face in a smile. She could indeed feel the energy pulsing beneath his skin. She felt for more—the base of his throat, his heart, his navel, down to his manhood, which she caressed. He moaned, wondering how much longer he could hold back. She was so willing! He pulled her close again, raining kisses and tiny bites down her pleasure points—her brow, her lips, the hollow at the base of her throat. He teased her breasts, alternating his attentions between them. Her desire for him was tensing her tighter, and she drew her legs apart.

“Please, Anakin,” she whispered, her eyes heavy-lidded.

Anakin was smiling. This was definitely more like it. His kisses trailed down the curve of her belly. He avoided her quivering mound carefully, teasing her thighs with kisses and loving bites. He wanted to leave his mark on her flesh. Her hips began to rock with tiny thrusts, growing more urgent as his kisses trailed back up her thighs.

“Please, Anakin,” she begged now. “I need you, please, please!”

Anakin rewarded her, taking her swollen bud into his mouth and his nimble fingers into her wetness, arching up into her sweet spot. He thrust them into her, sucking and nibbling her clit, reveling in her pleasured moans. In this moment, she was his flower, open only to him. ‘We are One,’ he told her over their Force-bond. ‘You are mine, Acaciah, mi priana, my precious flower. Open yourself to me!’

“Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, Anakin!”

He pushed deeper inside her, feeling the edge of her maidenhead. He wasn’t going to push that tonight, he would do that in person. Tonight she needed to be pleasured, to be reminded of their bond. He wanted the mention of his name to bring wetness to her lips. He stroked her faster, thumping against her sweet spot, pulsing at the energy beneath it. Acaciah’s entire body writhed in ecstatic response. “Don’t stop!” she cried breathlessly. “Anakin! Oh!”

His own heated flesh finally exploded in response to her cries. He pulled her close to him, reaching with the Force. They kissed, spooning together. She giggled, twirling a blond curl on the back of his neck. Not a bad start, he reflected. She still thinks she’s only dreaming, though. Her breathing was becoming slow and even. He decided to let her sleep.

Acaciah awoke the next morning to tousled, damp sheets. Her nightie and panties were in a puddle beside her bed. Holy Force, she was glad Papa hadn’t decided to give her an early morning wakeup call! She went to the ‘fresher to dress, and noticed ae bie bite on her inner thigh. She flushed, remembering last night’s Eros in her dream. It was a dream, right? She bit her lip. Dream or no, if she thought about it, Papa would ask about it, and she couldn’t have that. She put the dream out of her head, and finished dressing. She went to the kitchen, grabbed some Jawa juice, and started breakfast.

“Good morning, Acaciah,” Obi-Wan Kenobi gave his granddaughter a peck on the forehead as he picked up a dish. “You have a big day today. Are you finished packing?” he asked.

“Just about, Papa,” she replied. “I have a couple of last minute items to pack.”

“Don’t dawdle,” he cautioned.
“I won’t, sir,” she said. Suddenly mischievous, she turned a stern look on him. “Are you finished packing, sir?” She returned to the dishes.

Obi-Wan allowed himself a small smile as her regarded his granddaughter. Acaciah had grown into a fine Padawan and young lady. She reminded of himself at the same age in many respects. Her thick, curly hair was a darker shade of red, but in smile, in gestures, and most certainly in his laconic wit, Acaciah’s mannerisms matched his own.

She did owe much of her good looks to his beloved Miriam, though; he mused, and wondered at his own reaction to that thought. Legally Miriam was still his wife, and had spurned all others suitors’ attempts and suggestions of divorce. When politics destroyed what should have been a happy union, Obi-Wan had not known of his wife’s pregnancy. It had not been until Acaciah came along that he had even known that he had a daughter, much less a granddaughter. Miriam had borne it all silently, fearing for their daughter’s safety and the repercussions of the Jedi Council, and dropped out of politics and the use of the Force for years afterward. Now he was taking his beloved girl to the Fiona, to the scene of the crime, as it were, see if their paths could not be mended together again and to learn their ways.

And to learn other things as well, Obi-Wan thought dryly. Yes, Acaciah had grown into a lovely young lady. He was certain that had not escaped Anakin’s notice now, no more than it had earlier. Acaciah left to finish packing.

‘It is something she was meant to do, Obi-Wan,” Mace Windu reminded him through the Force.

‘I know,” he replied. ‘But I don’t like sending her into the unknown. Even if she is meant for it.’ And I know Anakin can’t wait for it, he thought privately. She is so young to carry that kind of a burden, even with Anakin helping her.

Obi-Wan snapped from his reverie as Acaciah re-entered the room. “I’m ready,” she smiled at her grandfather. “Can I say goodbye to my friends?” He assented.

Acaciah left their apartment to find Barriss and Maris out in the Temple Gardens. Barriss Offee had been a Padawan the same time as Anakin Skywalker, and Papa was fond of her as he was her mentor, Luminara Unduli. Maris Diara, Barriss’ Padawan, had been in the same clan as Acaciah. They were the same age and much the same mind. They both loved working in the Temple Garden. “It’s the only green place in all of Coruscant,” Acaciah claimed. “And it’s the best place to meditate.”

Barriss and Maris were weeding and smudged with dirt when Acaciah came to give her goodbyes. “You’re off to Alameen, then?” Barriss asked.

“Yes,” Acaciah said. “There’s not a lot of Republic business going on there. I imagine it will be pretty quiet goings on.”

Barriss smiled. “I don’t know, Acaciah. You may find yourself quite busy.” Maris finally spoke up. “Alameen is near the Daelus V space station. Will you say hello to Kiros for me?”

“I’m sure I can. I almost have to go out there at least once. Papa’s old Padawan, Anakin, is the Senior Master on that station. I’ll have to go pay my respects.”

Barriss held a sphinx of a smile to herself. “Indeed you will, Acaciah. Travel safe. May the Force be with you.”

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