C7 Chosen One?

C7 Chosen One?

Check out early access chapters on my Patréon, currently 7 chapters ahead!

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Later that night, after forcing himself to eat the grey slop in the cafeteria, Peter returned to his room. The desire to fix his Walkman still lingered, but his lack of technical know-how hindered progress. Instead, he decided to dedicate the evening to meditation, attempting to gain control over the Force within him.

After all, he saw what happened when his emotions went out of control, shaking his room in anger. Now, he had to find a way to keep his emotions under control and the only way he could think of to do that was meditation.

Sitting on the bed in his spartan room, Peter closed his eyes, focusing on his breath. Thoughts of the broken Walkman, his deceased mother, the Ravagers, the Jedi training to come, and the mysterious Force swirled in his mind. Slowly, he felt a connection, a thread linking him to the Force that permeated the temple.

As Peter delved into a meditative state, he began to sense the ebb and flow of the Force, a subtle energy that intertwined with his own essence. It was a delicate dance, a communion between the universe and his consciousness. Through this communion, Peter sought to harness the emotions that had once caused a chaotic upheaval in his room.

The night unfolded in quiet contemplation, a solitary journey within the realm of the Force. The echoes of his past life, the challenges of the present, and the uncertainty of the future converged in a symphony of introspection.

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The following morning, the same droid as yesterday, ever efficient, arrived promptly to wake Peter up and escort him to his first day of classes. Disgruntled and still half-asleep, Peter followed the metallic guide through the familiar corridors, adorned with the unfeeling elegance of the Jedi temple.

Upon entering the training hall, the gaze of curious younglings fixated on him. Whispers of speculation floated in the air, accompanied by puzzled expressions. Peter's arrival, an anomaly in the order's usual recruitment, sparked both intrigue and skepticism among the young Jedi acolytes.

As he navigated through the crowd of young Force-sensitive beings, a small Twi'lek girl, who couldn't have been more than 5 years old, her azure skin standing out in the sea of diverse faces, mustered the courage to approach him. "H-Hi..." she greeted nervously, her wide eyes filled with innocent curiosity.

[Insert picture of Aayla Secura here] (A/N: Bonus points for a younger version as well)

"Hello," Peter replied, offering a half-smile to the little Twi'lek. He wasn't used to dealing with children, so he appeared a bit awkward. "What's your name?"

"I'm Aayla," she chirped, her small hands fidgeting with the hem of her robe. "Why are you so tall? How old are you?"

'Is this Aayla Secura?' Peter wondered, kneeling down to be at eye level with her. "Well, I'm Peter and I'm 9 years old, and I'm pretty sure that I'm normal height... What about you? Why are you so short?"Vissit novelbin(.)c.om for updates

Aayla's eyes narrowed as she animatedly glared at Peter, her former nervousness disappearing in an instant. "I'm not short! You're just old!"

Peter couldn't help but be charmed by her cute angry face. "What do you mean I'm old? I haven't even hit double digits yet. And are you sure you're not short? How old are you again, shorty?"

"Don't call me shorty!" Aayla practically screamed, drawing everyone's attention. "And I'm 5 years old!" She announced, holding up all five fingers.

"Huh..." Peter sagely nodded his head, looking her up and down. "You still seem kinda short."

"!" Aayla seemed ready to explode from Peter's teasing, but before she could, the doors suddenly swung open and their teacher came walking in.

As Peter was happily swinging his sword, ignoring the fatigue that began to build up in his muscles, the instructors that circled the practicing younglings all turned to him at once, shocked as they noticed him subconsciously using the force to both heal his fatigue and empower his movements.

'He really is the chosen one...' They thought, realizing just how crucial Peter's training really was.

The day's schedule also featured mandatory meditation sessions interspersed throughout. As the younglings settled into quiet reflection, Peter, with his adult-like patience and calm demeanor, excelled in these moments of introspection. The soothing resonance of the Force became a familiar companion during these sessions, guiding him through the labyrinth of his own thoughts.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, marking the end of his first full day in the Jedi Temple, Peter flopped down on his bed, exhausted beyond belief. 'This is harder than I thought it would be...' He thought as he turned his head to see his broken Walkman sitting in his desk. 'I need to get that fixed tomorrow...'

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In a dark and secluded laboratory far across the galaxy, Darth Plagueis, the long faced and pale skinned Muun Sith Lord, sat surrounded by arcane equipment. His eyes fixed on Shmi Skywalker, a restrained and unconscious slave woman who had been under his ownership for months.

Plagueis, driven by his thirst for power, delved into twisted Sith experiments.

[Insert picture of Shmi here]

This week, his focus intensified on attempting to create life through the Force within Shmi. The Muun Sith Lord sought to fashion a fatherless child, a being with a direct connection to the Force itself. The walls of the laboratory echoed with the hum of dark energies as Plagueis manipulated the Force to shape the life he desired.

As he scrutinized the results of his experiments, frustration gnawed at him. Creating life through the Force proved more challenging than he anticipated. With every failure, he felt the urge to take his anger out on Shmi, yet he couldn't risk harming a perfectly good test subject.

Plagueis's ultimate goal was to transfer his consciousness into a worthy, human vessel, desiring to spearhead the Sith takeover of the Galactic Republic as a more acceptable figurehead than his non-human form would allow.

Basically, he needed a human body to navigate the political intricacies of the Republic.

Although the Senate isn't overtly racist, as they have all sorts of races populating its many seats, only humans have ever been elected Chancellor, which is why he was relying so heavily on his apprentice at the moment.

An apprentice whose loyalties he was beginning to doubt. Which is why he sought a contingency plan to secure his own dominance in the Sith order.

Right now, his human apprentice is the one making the moves for him, but Plagueis didn't like relying on someone who would no doubt betray him, just as he betrayed his master.

'It is the Sith way after all...' Plagueis thought.

Despite his ruthless determination, the Sith experiments on Shmi faltered. The Muun grew increasingly impatient, realizing that relying on Shmi to bear the chosen child of the Force might be a futile endeavor.

Compelled by frustration, he tightened his grip on her unconscious form using the force, momentarily entertaining the idea of ending her insignificant life.

Medical equipment beeped urgently, signaling complications, but Plagueis, in a fit of rage, ultimately reconsidered, sparing her life. Shmi, kept sedated and unaware of her Sith master's machinations, survived the outburst.

However, Plagueis decided to cut his losses. Frustration swelled within him, and he chose to sell Shmi, viewing her as nothing more than a commodity that might bring some small financial gain, which could fund future experiments.

But unbeknownst to the Sith Lord, as Shmi was carted off to an uncertain fate, a potential success loomed within her. The Sith experiment had indeed borne fruit, and Shmi carried the seed of a possible chosen one of the Force, Anakin Skywalker.

A/N: 2100 words :)