The Temple felt different when one walked its corridors knowing something was about to change.
Ahsoka Tano tried not to show it.
She walked beside Master Plo Koon, her boots clicking softly against the polished stone floors of the Jedi Temple. Sunlight streamed through the massive windows overlooking Coruscant's endless skyline, casting long shafts of gold across the hall.
Her lekku twitched slightly.
Plo Koon noticed.
"You are unusually quiet today, little Soka," he said in his calm, filtered voice.
Ahsoka folded her hands behind her back, trying to appear composed. "I'm not quiet," she replied quickly. "I'm focused."
"Focused," he repeated gently. "On what?"
She hesitated.
"…On who they're going to assign me to."
They walked a few more steps before she added, softer, "What if I'm not ready?"
Plo Koon stopped.
She almost walked into him.
He turned slightly, placing a gloved hand on her shoulder. "You are ready," he said. "You would not be here if you were not."
"But what if they assign me to someone who—" she cut herself off.
"Who what?"
She sighed. "Who doesn't want me."
Plo Koon's eyes softened behind his mask. "Any Jedi selected to train you will understand what that responsibility means."
She searched his expression, trying to find reassurance.
"And if it's not you?" she asked quietly.
There was the smallest pause.
"The Force does not always lead us where we expect," he said. "But it always leads us where we are meant to be."
That helped.
A little.
She nodded, inhaled, and together they approached the High Council chamber.
The doors parted with a low hum.
The chamber was quieter than usual. The war had stretched the Order thin; most Masters were scattered across the galaxy.
Present were Master Plo Koon, who moved to his seat. Master Kit Fisto, serene as ever. Master Mace Windu, stern and contemplative. And at the center, small in stature but immense in presence, Grand Master Yoda.
Ahsoka stepped forward and bowed.
"Masters."
"Welcome, young Tano," Yoda said, his ears tilting slightly as he regarded her. "Strong in the Force, you are. Tested, you have been."
She straightened.
"Yes, Master."
Kit Fisto smiled faintly. "You've grown since arriving at the Temple. Your instructors speak highly of you."
"That is good to hear," Windu added, though his tone remained measured.
Ahsoka's heart began to beat harder.
This was it.
Yoda leaned forward slightly in his chair.
"Ready for apprenticeship, you are," he said. "Time it is, for you to become a Padawan learner."
Ahsoka's fingers curled slightly at her sides.
She couldn't stop her mind from racing.
Maybe Master Plo Koon. He had found her. He understood her.
Maybe Master Kenobi. Calm, disciplined, legendary.
Perhaps even Master Qui-Gon Jinn — unconventional, but wise.
She would prove herself. She would not disappoint.
Yoda's eyes studied her carefully.
"Chosen your Master has been."
Ahsoka swallowed.
There was the briefest silence in the chamber.
Then—
"Assigned to Anakin Skywalker, you are."
The words struck her like a physical blow.
For a moment, she thought she'd misheard.
"…I'm sorry?" she said before she could stop herself.
Windu's eyes narrowed slightly. Kit Fisto's smile faded.
Yoda watched her closely.
"Padawan to General Skywalker, you will be."
The room felt smaller.
Anakin Skywalker.
The masked war hero.
The towering figure whose presence unsettled even seasoned Knights.
The one whispered about in training halls.
The one who wore the ancient mask.
Ahsoka felt something tighten in her chest.
"There must be some mistake," she said carefully. "Master Skywalker is… he's on the front lines. He leads a legion. He commands fleets."
"Yes," Windu said evenly. "He does."
"That is precisely why," Kit Fisto added.
Ahsoka hesitated. "With respect, Masters… there are rumors."
Yoda's ears twitched. "Rumors?"
She forced herself to speak.
"That he… isn't like other Jedi. That he bends rules. That he—" she hesitated again, lowering her voice slightly, "that there is something dark about him."
The chamber went very still.
Mace Windu regarded her steadily. "General Skywalker's methods are… unconventional. But his loyalty to the Republic has never been in question."
"That is not what I meant," she said quickly.
"Fear, I sense," Yoda murmured.
"I'm not afraid," she shot back instinctively.
Yoda tilted his head.
"Afraid of him, you are not?"
She opened her mouth to deny it again.
But the truth brushed against her thoughts.
She had seen him once in the Temple corridors years ago — tall, armored, mask gleaming faintly red in the light.
He had walked past her without a word.
And the Force around him had felt like standing too close to a storm.
Not evil.
But powerful.
Unpredictable.
She lowered her eyes slightly.
"He's… intimidating," she admitted.
A soft hum came from Yoda.
"Powerful, he is. Tested by war, he has been. Learn from him, you will."
Plo Koon spoke then, voice steady. "Skywalker's path is not simple. But he has much to teach."
Ahsoka looked toward him — searching for something.
Approval.
Reassurance.
Plo Koon gave a subtle nod.
That was enough.
She inhaled slowly.
"If this is the Council's will," she said, regaining composure, "then I will serve."
Yoda's eyes warmed slightly.
"Good," he said. "Challenge you, he will. Stronger, you will become."
Windu added, "You leave for Christophsis immediately. The campaign there is nearly finished, and you could learn much in the final moments of the coming battles."
Ahsoka straightened fully now.
Her nervousness had not vanished — but it had transformed.
Into resolve.
"Yes, Master."
She bowed again, deeper this time.
As she turned to leave, Yoda watched her carefully.
"Much depends on this," he murmured quietly once the doors closed.
Windu folded his hands within his robes. "You believe she will temper him."
"Or," Kit Fisto said thoughtfully, "he will temper her."
Plo Koon remained silent for a moment before speaking.
"Skywalker stands at a crossroads," he said. "Perhaps the Force intends her to stand there with him."
Yoda's gaze drifted toward the skyline of Coruscant beyond the chamber.
"To find Balance," he whispered softly. "Or to fall."
///
Somewhere in the far reaches of the galaxy walked a Muun.
The cave had not felt living air in centuries.
Moisture clung to jagged stone walls. Ancient mineral veins shimmered faintly beneath layers of dust. The passageway twisted downward into darkness so thick it seemed to swallow sound.
A single probe droid hovered beside him, its faint white beam cutting a narrow path through the black.
Darth Plagueis did not hurry.
He never hurried.
The Muun's long fingers traced the air as he walked, feeling the currents of the Force more than the physical path beneath his boots. The dark side pooled here. Old. Forgotten. Not violent — but dormant.
Waiting.
He had followed whispers.
Fragments of records buried in ancient banking archives. Coordinates encoded in Sith dialects few could decipher. References erased from Republic charts long before the Jedi Order had formalized its power.
All of it converged here.
The cave opened at last into a vast subterranean chamber.
The droid's light widened, illuminating something carved into the far wall.
Plagueis stopped.
For a moment, he simply looked.
The carvings were crude by modern standards. Chiseled by hand. Ancient script, older than most languages spoken in the Republic. Symbols of the old Sith Empire, "before the rule of two, before the exile, before the shadow"
And in the center of it all…
A star.
No — not a star.
A construct orbiting one.
Lines radiated outward from it, crude hyperspace routes etched like veins across the wall. Coordinates marked in Sith glyphs.
Plagueis stepped closer.
His thin lips parted slightly.
"Remarkable…"
The probe droid adjusted its angle, illuminating the full expanse of the map.
The Star Forge.
Not myth.
Not legend.
A manufacturing station of impossible scale, fueled by stellar energy, capable of producing fleets beyond count.
A weapon.
An engine of empire.
He reached out with the Force, brushing his consciousness across the stone. The echo of ancient will lingered here — the ambition of Sith who had once commanded legions openly, not from shadow but from thrones of obsidian.
The Rule of Two.
He almost laughed.
A quaint adaptation.
Necessary once.
But obsolete now.
Plagueis' mind drifted to Anakin.
The boy — no, not a boy any longer.
The heir.
The blood of Vitiate in his veins.
Descendant of emperors who had ruled from Dromund Kaas to Korriban.
An empire in his very hands.
And unlike Sidious…
He was not shackled to secrecy.
Anakin did not crave to manipulate from behind curtains.
He desired order. Structure. Dominance justified as stability.
Plagueis smiled thinly.
And unlike Sidious…
He was not afraid of being surpassed.
The Muun stepped closer to the wall, placing a pale hand upon the stone beneath the etched construct.
"If you wish to rule openly," he murmured softly into the dark, "you will require more than fleets borrowed from a fractured Republic."
His elongated eyes narrowed slightly.
"You will require something worthy of you."
The probe droid shifted, its light flickering as Plagueis' presence deepened.
He began to laugh.
Not loud.
Not manic.
But low. Controlled. Filled with terrible, delighted understanding.
Sidious thought himself architect of the future.
Sidious thought he was guiding events.
But Sidious had chosen the wrong heir.
Plagueis had chosen correctly.
Anakin Skywalker would not rule as a shadow.
He would not crouch behind senate chambers and emergency powers.
He would rise.
And Plagueis…
Plagueis would kneel.
The master would become the apprentice willingly.
Because this was not about dominance.
It was about culmination.
The Sith had hidden for a thousand years.
They had waited.
Adapted.
Survived.
But the galaxy was tired of corruption disguised as democracy.
The Republic rotted from within.
The Jedi were stretched thin across battlefields.
The Mandalorians were fractured.
The Separatists were desperate.
All conditions converged.
Plagueis looked once more at the map.
The Star Forge was not merely a weapon.
It was a declaration.
An end to scarcity.
An end to relying on Kamino.
An end to bargaining with bankers.
An end to secrecy.
His fingers traced the coordinates, memorizing them.
"You will need this," he murmured, as if speaking to Anakin across the void.
"But not yet."
Not while the Clone Wars raged.
Not while Skywalker still balanced between knight and conqueror.
Not while grief still sharpened him.
Timing.
That was everything.
The Muun stepped back, eyes gleaming faintly in the droid's glow.
Above, the galaxy burned in a manufactured war.
And unlike Sidious…
He was not shackled to secrecy.
Anakin did not crave to manipulate from behind curtains.
He desired order. Structure. Dominance justified as stability.
Plagueis smiled thinly.
And unlike Sidious…
He was not afraid of being surpassed.
The Muun stepped closer to the wall, placing a pale hand upon the stone beneath the etched construct.
"If you wish to rule openly," he murmured softly into the dark, "you will require more than fleets borrowed from a fractured Republic."
His elongated eyes narrowed slightly.
"You will require something worthy of you."
The probe droid shifted, its light flickering as Plagueis' presence deepened.
He began to laugh.
Not loud.
Not manic.
But low. Controlled. Filled with terrible, delighted understanding.
Sidious thought himself architect of the future.
Sidious thought he was guiding events.
But Sidious had chosen the wrong heir.
Plagueis had chosen correctly.
Anakin Skywalker would not rule as a shadow.
He would not crouch behind senate chambers and emergency powers.
He would rise.
And Plagueis…
Plagueis would kneel.
The master would become the apprentice willingly.
Because this was not about dominance.
It was about culmination.
The Sith had hidden for a thousand years.
They had waited.
Adapted.
Survived.
But the galaxy was tired of corruption disguised as democracy.
The Republic rotted from within.
The Jedi were stretched thin across battlefields.
The Mandalorians were fractured.
The Separatists were desperate.
All conditions converged.
Plagueis looked once more at the map.
The Star Forge was not merely a weapon.
It was a declaration.
An end to scarcity.
An end to relying on Kamino.
An end to bargaining with bankers.
An end to secrecy.
His fingers traced the coordinates, memorizing them.
"You will need this," he murmured, as if speaking to Anakin across the void.
"But not yet."
Not while the Clone Wars raged.
Not while Skywalker still balanced between knight and conqueror.
Not while grief still sharpened him.
Timing.
That was everything.
The Muun stepped back, eyes gleaming faintly in the droid's glow.
Above, the galaxy burned in a manufactured war.
///
The stars always looked peaceful from a distance.
Ahsoka Tano had never trusted that illusion.
Her shuttle cut through the darkness toward Christophsis, engines humming softly, the viewport filled with the cold glitter of distant suns. Somewhere out there, wars raged. Systems burned. Jedi fell.
And she was flying directly toward one of the most volatile fronts in the Republic.
She pressed her forehead lightly against the transparisteel and exhaled.
You asked for this, she reminded herself.
When the fleet came into view, her breath caught.
Venators.
Rows of them.
Layered in defensive formations, their hulls scarred from weeks of bombardment. The red-marked ships of the 501st sat like predators poised to strike. Beyond them, support cruisers and carrier groups hovered in a dense lattice of military precision.
It wasn't just a fleet.
It was a statement.
And she was about to step into the center of it.
Her shuttle descended past the outer formation, passing beneath the shadow of a capital ship so massive it blotted out the starlight entirely. The hull plating was scorched, patched, battle-worn — but it radiated control.
Ahsoka swallowed.
That's his fleet.
Christophsis rose beneath them — crystalline towers cracked by artillery fire, smoke rising from fractured city blocks. The war had carved the planet into something jagged and exhausted.
The shuttle touched down with a soft jolt.
She stood before the ramp lowered, straightened her shoulders, and inhaled deeply.
"Okay," she muttered to herself. "You can do this."
The ramp descended with a hiss.
The first thing she felt was the Force.
Two presences.
One familiar and steady — disciplined, centered.
The other—
The other was like stepping near a gravity well.
Tall.
Immovable.
Contained power coiled beneath restraint.
As she stepped onto the landing pad, she saw them.
Obi-Wan Kenobi stood relaxed, hands folded within armored robes — not the flowing cloth of peacetime, but practical battle gear reinforced with plated segments. His ginger beard caught the light, his blue eyes calm despite the chaos of war around them.
Beside him stood Anakin Skywalker.
He was taller than she expected.
Much taller.
Six and a half feet of blackened armor and layered robes. The long, ancient mask gleamed faintly red at its edges, the T-shaped visor concealing everything beneath.
He did not move.
He simply stood there.
And somehow that was worse.
Ahsoka forced her nerves down and stepped forward, bowing respectfully.
"Masters."
Obi-Wan inclined his head politely. "Padawan Tano, I presume."
She straightened. "Yes, Master."
"It is good to finally meet you. I'll be your new master."
She blinked
The faintest flicker of confusion crossed her face.
"With respect, Master Kenobi, Master Yoda and the Council were very specific. I've been assigned to Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker."
Silence.
Even the distant rumble of artillery seemed to pause.
Then, in perfect unison—
"What?"
Anakin's voice was deeper than she expected. Calm, but edged with disbelief.
Obi-Wan's tone was far more incredulous.
Ahsoka blinked between them.
She had expected intimidation.
Cold authority.
Perhaps even indifference.
What she got instead was… confusion.
Anakin tilted his head slightly, the mask catching the light.
"There has to be some mistake," he said, voice firm now. "Obi-Wan was the one petitioning the Council for a Padawan. I didn't request one."
Obi-Wan shot him a look. "Do try to be respectful, Anakin."
Anakin continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I don't need a Padawan. And I certainly don't have time to train one."
Ahsoka felt irritation spark in her chest.
"Well," she replied sharply, "Master Yoda didn't seem to think that was your decision."
Obi-Wan glanced between them, trying — unsuccessfully — to suppress the beginning of a smile.
Anakin crossed his arms over his chest. "You're telling me the Council sent you into an active warzone without even confirming with me?"
"Yes," she said.
"And you just… agreed?"
"I'm a Jedi," she shot back. "That's kind of how this works."
Obi-Wan let out a quiet huff of laughter.
Anakin's head turned slowly toward her.
There was a pause.
Then he said, almost incredulously, "You're… serious."
"Very."
She took a breath.
"And I was sent with a message as well."
That shifted the mood.
Anakin's posture straightened slightly.
"What message?"
"The Council wants you both recalled to Coruscant immediately."
Obi-Wan frowned. "That's not possible. The Separatists cut long-range communications days ago. We're on the final push. We can't just—"
"The ship I arrived in has encrypted relay capability," she interrupted. "It can punch through the interference. Master Yoda insisted."
Anakin exhaled sharply beneath the mask.
He didn't like this.
She could feel it.
"Fine," he said at last. "Let's confirm it."
Moments later, the three of them stood inside a temporary holo command deck set up within a fortified building near the front lines.
Blue light flickered to life.
Yoda's small figure shimmered before them.
Behind him, the Council chamber stood partially occupied — war had thinned its numbers.
"Arrived safely, you have," Yoda observed.
"Yes, Master," Ahsoka said, bowing.
Anakin folded his hands behind his back. "Master Yoda, with respect, we're in the middle of a planetary campaign."
"Understood," Yoda replied. "Complete what you must. Then return to Coruscant. Urgent matters require your presence."
Obi-Wan inclined his head. "May we ask the nature of those matters?"
Yoda's ears twitched slightly.
"Soon, you will know."
Anakin did not like that answer.
But he nodded once.
"Understood."
The hologram flickered and vanished.
The room fell quiet.
Anakin turned immediately toward the exit.
Obi-Wan cleared his throat pointedly.
"You are forgetting something."
Anakin didn't stop walking. "What?"
"Someone." Ahosoka corrected.
Ahsoka folded her arms.
Anakin paused.
Slowly turned.
Looked at her.
Then groaned quietly.
"This is not happening."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're really selling the whole 'wise Jedi mentor' thing."
Obi-Wan coughed to hide a smile.
Anakin pointed toward her.
"Alright, Snips."
Her jaw dropped slightly. "Snips?"
"You've got a sharp tongue," he replied smoothly. "You're coming with me. Try not to get in the way."
"I won't," she shot back instantly. "Try not to fall behind."
Obi-Wan outright laughed now.
Anakin shook his head and started toward the exit again, long strides carrying him down the corridor.
Ahsoka hurried after him.
Behind them, Obi-Wan watched the pair go — the towering masked war hero and the fiery Togruta barely reaching his shoulder.
He folded his hands behind his back.
"They'll get along just fine," he murmured to himself.
And for the first time since she had stepped off the shuttle, Ahsoka felt something shift.
The monolith of fear she had imagined?
It had cracks.
And through those cracks…
She could see a man.
The war outside raged on.
But something else had just begun.
...
Right so Ive seen some comments saying to make Ahoksa a love interest and Ill tell you this here and now that is not happening. Im still on the fence with a harem, but Ahsoka is a big no-no for me. Anyway we also saw some plaguies stuff, thats right hes kinda infatuated with Anakin, he recognizes hes what could elevate the sith to a level beyond him or sidous could ever acomplish. Also theres the star forge, look it up if you dont know what it is, its like the death star but instead of blowing up planets it eats stars and turns it into massive war fleets. Like the tags say OP Anakin.