Redemption - A Star Wars Fanfic

Chapter 13

From the flashing satin ball gowns and pressed silk suits, the sparkling jewels dangling from earlobes and lekkus alike, and the melodious blending sounds of polite chatter and hearty laughter all present at the opera house, one might never believe a war was happening. They especially wouldn't believe that the very planet they were currently on had been directly attacked only days prior.

All of Coruscant's elite, from politicians to powerful blood families, were scattered around the main entrance, their blaring affluent looks serving as a sharp contrast to Anakin's muted robes. It eerily reminded him of his childhood on Tatooine watching the pompous off-worlders wander around Mos Espa, or the cantinas filled with crime-lords jangling credits in their pockets from collected bounties and spice shipments. If any of them had even breathed the same air as a slave boy like himself, they surely would've withered up and died in their disgust. Even when Padmé had taken him to her family's home on Naboo for the first time, he had been breathlessly overwhelmed, forced to call back on Obi-Wan's lessons on diplomatic politeness when they had served tea in cups probably worth more than his speeder.

His cloak billowed up the stairs as he quickened his pace, casting a quick glance at a large, ticking chrono hung near the massive chandeliers. His shoulder brushed by a tall Chiss woman, her indigo skin mimicking the night sky above and accentuating the red voids of her eyes—which were glaring at him. Sharp, claw-like nails held a flute of blood-red wine, some of which, on impact with Anakin, had spilled down her exposed collar-bone to stain the front of her ivory gown.

Anakin was sure she would've chewed him out if it wasn't for the saber at his hip, the weapon halting her sneer as a frantic protocol droid began dabbing at her front with a cloth napkin.

"My deepest apologies, madam," Anakin said, managing a slight wince before he continued on his rampant blunder into the building. The woman only scoffed, shoving her panicking droid away and brushing at her ruined skirts.

"Those damned Jedi," she hissed, stomping away to the refreshers.

Already having put the incident in the back of his mind, Anakin skidded past more of the crowds of rich and powerful. Yet, just as they had with the Chiss woman, his Jedi robes offered him a layer of protection, most people stepping hastily out of his way as he barreled through the halls, some gazes curious, and some nervous as they toiled over what a Jedi Knight could possibly be doing traipsing in the upper levels of Coruscant on a relatively quiet evening. Since the wars' beginning, the sight of a Jedi usually brought trouble along with it, and seeing as most of Coruscant's petty crime occurred in the lower levels, most of these people had probably never been within a few feet of a Jedi, let alone seen one.

Through his holonet fame however, Anakin was sure most of the gaping folk around him knew exactly who he was, which was all he needed to easily filter through the awed crowds and finally locate the Chancellor's personal box, his armed guards giving him a sharp nod before letting him through.

Just as Padmé had thought, he had been late, having struggled weaving through the late Coruscanti traffic while Luke had gripped the side of the speeder with a death grip, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull and his hair whipping violently around his face.

"Do you always drive so recklessly?" He had shouted over the speeding wind, switching his grip to his restraint harness to check its secureness over his chest for the fifth time. Anakin had only laughed in response, reminded of Obi-Wan's green pallor whenever they drove together, his knees quivering and his shock so strong that he couldn't even properly lecture his student without going faint.

But Luke had arrived safely at the Temple, reminding Anakin once again to keep him updated before he sped away once more, all to find himself here, staring at the giant pulsing bubbles glowing rosily amongst a sea of spinning Mon Calamari dancers and bored spectators with a puzzled frown.