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Anish found himself watching the lake as the mist slowly faded and the sunlight began to glint off the smooth surface of the lake. The mirror-sheen was broken by the occasional ripple, but mostly they were those of the small creatures that resided in the lake. The breeze was light if there was one at all. But the temperature was mild enough that Anish found the lack of breeze didn’t matter all that much. It was comfortable. And alive.
Not in the way that the city-plant of Coruscant was alive. There, the life felt caged. Crowded, even when all of Anish’s time was spent in the glittering towers of the uppermost levels these days. Still, he remembered his few descents into the underworld well. Those trips had been few, but Anish was rather happy to say they were over. After all, what reason would there ever be to send the Supreme Chancellor’s aide-de-camp to such a place? It was a different story when one spoke of the Jedi, of course. No one would blink twice at a young Jedi sent to retrieve some information or object from some dingy corner of a deep level.
But that was Coruscant, and Anish was quite happy to be on Naboo, no matter that his last trip to the glittering jewel of a planet had been eventful to say the least. He’d been able to sense it then, but now without so many other things on his mind he could appreciate the plant better.
How alive it felt. How full of the Force it was. In a way that felt pure, not dirty. Not overcrowded, despite the way the plant and especially the Lake Country around the Chancellor’s villa teemed with life. It reminded Anish of the Room of a Thousand Fountains in the Temple, after a fashion. It was a place where Anish could well imagine meditating the day away. And perhaps he would. This was a vacation, after all. And Magnus had flat out forbidden Anish from bringing any work with him at all.
Anish stretched and took a few steps forward, leaning over the stone railing. He and the Chancellor had arrived rather late the night before, and there hadn’t been much of a tour of the Chancellor’s mansion. Though seeing it in the light of the day made Anish think that the word mansion did not properly suffice. Magnus’ estate was nothing if not palatial. Huge in a way that Anish couldn’t say he expected, even knowing that Magnus came from an aristocratic background.
“You’re supposed to rest on vacation, you know.” Magnus sounds amused. Anish gives his boss a somewhat sheepish grin as he glances over his shoulder to where the other man is leaning against the arching doorway that leads onto the terrace.
“Old habits die hard.” A truth if ever there was one. Jedi did need sleep, but not as much as normal sentient beings. Some Masters could maintain themselves with only meditation, but Anish was no Master. And neither was he a Jedi any longer. The thought was one he tried not to ponder often, but sometimes it was hard not to. And it always brought an odd sort of phantom touch to the place where Anish’s padawan braid had once rested.
“True enough.” Magnus’ voice was much closer, and a moment later his arm was lazily slung across Anish’s shoulders. “But they are broken in good time.”
It was strange to hear the Chancellor be so casual, or for him to be so personal with Anish. Not to say he was ever unkind, but Anish was Magnus’ aide-de-camp. Not a friend or a Senator or even a Jedi.
“The view is rather lovely today. So often the mist and steam make it hard to see anything or the heat is too much.” Magnus’ arms wound around Anish as he spoke, such that the last words were less said and more murmured into Anish’s ear. It was all Anish could do not to go boneless and sag against Magnus’ body. Because he was tired. As much as Magnus seemed to have limitless energy, Anish would admit that he’d been rather grateful when Magnus had told him on no uncertain terms that he would be coming on vacation with Magnus and that if Anish tried to refuse then Magnus would order the Senate Guards to carry Anish onto the yacht that had brought them to Magnus’ homeworld.
“How long have you been up?” Anish had been around Magnus long enough to know that for all the Chancellor is good at portraying himself as a simple man just trying to do what is best for the galaxy, he was a fearsome politician. Who most certainly had a silver tongue when he decided to use it.
“Too long, Excellency.” Anish hadn’t bothered to check the time after the dream had roused him, but it had certainly been well before dawn.
Magnus playfully cuffed Anish on the back of the head.
“I have a name, Master Jedi. No work. No titles. If you call me Excellency again I’ll dump you in the lake and you can meet the local sea monster population.”
Anish had to laugh at that.
“One meeting with the denizens of Naboo’s core was enough for me, I think. Those memories will certainly last a lifetime.”
Magnus’ grip on Anish slacked at that. Like he was finally remembering Anish had been to his homeworld before, and under rather less happy circumstances.
“I’m sorry.” Magnus sounded more contrite than Anish was expecting. Guilty, even. “Was that what kept you up? Memories of what happened? Nightmares? To me this is my homeworld, Anish. My refuge. But for you …” Magnus trailed off, but Anish could feel the Chancellor’s eyes on him. And his hands. Because for all intents and purposes Magnus was still basically embracing Anish from behind, even if he wasn’t murmuring words directly into his ear any longer.
“Not memories of here.” Which wasn’t to say that Anish hadn’t had nightmares about his mission to Naboo, but the demons that had haunted him the previous night had been something else entirely.
“And not simple memories. More premonitions, I think.”
“Premonitions?” Magnus’ interest is piqued, and Anish is rather annoyed with himself. The words had slipped off his tongue. Damn the Chancellor for being so easy to talk to. Once Anish had been very good at being tight-lipped about his visions, if one could even call them that, having learned the hard way that such things ended up with one’s fellow padawans more than a little jealous and more than a few meetings with skeptical Jedi Masters.
“They’re always vague. More like snapshots than visions. And not usually connected.” Anish had never been good at describing his visions. It certainly hadn’t helped his case with the more senior Jedi Masters he’d ended up in front of once or twice.
“Can you describe it for me? Your dream, that is?” For a split second Anish debates trying to mind trick Magnus to make him drop the subject. The chances of it working weren’t great, and the consequences of it going wrong were probably worse.
“It’s hard to describe, Excellency.” Anish had never managed to describe it to the satisfaction of any of the Jedi Masters he’d been put in front of.
“Oh. I suppose that does make sense.” Magnus sounded rather contrite, and Anish could feel the Chancellor looking down. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
Anish isn’t quite sure where the guilt comes from, or why it comes. He’d never felt guilty about his failings to show the Jedi Masters. Only annoyance at himself for failing to get his own point across. Perhaps it was that Magnus had looked him in the eye and thanked him after the debacle that was the Naboo mission instead of asking endless questions, each more judgemental than the last. Perhaps it was the offer that Anish had thought was a joke when it was made, but that he’d accepted soon enough despite his own misgivings. Perhaps it was because Magnus treated Anish better than most Senators treated their own aides.
“I- It’s too hard to describe. But perhaps I can show you.” Magnus looked confused and rather skeptical. “With the Force.” Anish felt Magnus nodding.
“Well then, Master Jedi. Show me.” There was some level of challenge in Magnus’ voice. And Anish was not the sort of man that shrunk from a challenge.
He freed himself from Magnus’ arms and turned to face the Chancellor.
“You might want to sit down.” Force visions could be quite the proverbial kick in the chest even for those that had dealt with them before, and Magnus most certainly hadn’t.
“I prefer to stand.” Anish almost rolled his eyes. Magnus could be so very stubborn at times. And always over the most trivial things.
“Suit yourself.” Anish reached out, cupping Magnus’ cheeks with his hands and stepping closer. The Chancellor’s hands naturally rested on Anish’s own hips. Then Anish exhaled, closed his eyes, and touched his forehead to Magnus’, opening himself to the endless river that was the Force as he did so.
It was cold. Colder than Anish was expecting. Colder than it should have reasonably been. But the visions - memories - came anyway. Sharp and fast. Almost before Anish had even called them.
Fleets so numerous the blotted out the stars. A sea of blasters flashing against ever diminishing lightsabers. Words of ice and sand and snow and fire. Blood and soil and pain and death. But the visions didn’t stop when they should have. They came, cold and true. Inevitable. Icey. Sharper and clearer than Anish had ever seen before.
Stars blinking out, one by one. A galaxy in darkness. Fleets of strange organic ships. A windswept, empty world. Ashes blowing in the wind.
The nausea came thick and fast, and Anish wasn’t quite sure how he ended up on his hands and knees, dry-heaving, but he did. All while looking at Magnus’ fine black slippers.
Magnus’ hand in Anish’s hair wasn’t exactly kind as he forced Anish to look up at him.
And for the first time, Anish saw Magnus. Truly. Properly. He wasn’t in the blue finery of his office or even the robes Anish had seen him in for less formal situations. Instead he wore black robes that were more familiar than Anish liked to admit. Except the Jedi didn’t wear black. Ever. And his eyes. Magnus, Anish knew, had brown eyes. Warm things. Disarming things. But the eyes gazing down at him were blazing and golden, not warm and brown.
The smirk on Magnus’ face, though, was entirely familiar.
Anish felt the chilly jerk of the force even as the pieces fell into place in his mind.
Oh.
Oh.
Fuck.