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Always a Slave

Chapter Text

So, I've wanted to update this for a while, but I wrote myself into a corner and didn't know where to go from my last chapter. And I didn't really like where this fic went. Also, I think I can write this better now than I did when I first started. So, I've completely restarted this fic. Peter is still a Jedi, and MJ is still doing what she's doing. Now, I'm feeling a lot better about this.

Chapter Text

Peter ran through the sandy streets of Tatooine. As usual, he was extremely late. Jaina his master, did not tolerate mistakes.

Jaina was a cruel woman. Peter was only four years old when he had been whipped the first time. He still had the scars on his back.

It didn’t matter if he was late, or missed the smallest spec of dust on her starship, or defended one of his fellow slaves. Jaina whipped Peter. And she laughed maniacally every time.

“Peter!” Jyn whispered.

“Sorry I’m late. I was –”

“It doesn’t matter where you were! Jaina’s going to whip Michelle!”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Where is she?”

He couldn't let her whip MJ. Not again. She'd always had it far worse in this hellhole than anyone else. Their master used her as an example to everyone else. Calling her weak, worthless, and even going as far to use slurs, MJ recieved constant abuse at the hand of the zeltron.

She was the only family he could remember. The memory of his parents had drifted away, and he never even gave it a second thought. When Peter was first taken by the hutts, they'd slaughtered his mother and father in cold blood. That was all he could remember.

The image of their corpses frequently entered his dreams, taunting him. Traumatizing him. The hate was building up inside him already. Everything and everyone caused him to practically lose his mind. Lashing out in anger towards them all. The only good thing in his life was MJ, and he would stop at nothing to protect her.

“Follow me.”

The two began to run through the dusty corridor, with their short legs making it twice as long. Peter's blood began to boil as they neared the door. As usual, the only noises that could ever be heard from that room was a crying child, and Jaina's laughter.

“MJ!” Peter shouted, voice trembling.

Jaina took her eyes away from MJ and turned her attention to the seven-year-old boy.

“Parker.” She said with an evil smile. “Have you come to watch your friend suffer?”

Peter rushed at her, screaming in rage.

He wanted to kill her in that moment. The anger, the fear, and the hate reached its breaking point. Finally. He would have shot her without hesitation if given the chance. And nothing would have made him happier.

With a roll of her eyes, Jaina pulled out her remote out from her tunic and pointed it directly at Peter. An intense shock spread throughout his entire body, causing him to fall to the floor screaming in agony.

“Stupid child.”

That damned collar. She treated the slaves like animals. Feeding them scraps, constantly disciplining them, and this torture was only subjected to them because she enjoyed it. It was a form of mockery in an attempt to show her superiority.

Taking her attention away from Peter, Jaina swung her whip back and struck Michelle. Peter could take the pain of the shock, but watching his friend in pain was something he could not.

Tears ran down his checks as Jaina continued mercilessly. The screams coming from MJ was the only thing keeping him conscious. His hatred for Jaina reached a point were the collar didn't matter anymore. Rage fuelled him. It gave him a feeling that resembled power.

After what felt like hours, Jaina finally showed mercy. Dragging them by the hair, Peter and MJ were thrown into 'the cell'. It was somewhat of a special place for the two of them. New people spent their first night in the cell, and this was the place where he met his best friend. But for Michelle, it was only a symbol of pain and suffering as she clutched her knees and began to sob.

“I’m sorry MJ.” He said softly, wiping his own tears away.

MJ looked up at him, choking on her sobs and leaning against Peter.

“Can you justhold me?”

He immediately wrapped his arms around her tightly, letting her bury her face in his shoulder.

“I’ll do anything you ask.”

MJ wiped her tears against his tunic, continuing to cry uncontrollably. He truly hated Jaina for what she was doing to her. Inflicting all these injuries on a defenceless shouldn't have gone unpunished.

After a few minutes of silence, Peter spoke up.

“I’m going to get us out of here. One day.”

She stifled a small laugh, giving up a weak smile.

“You say that every time we’re in here. Why are you so certain?”

The truth was that part of him didn't even believe it. After four years, it appeared that they wouldn't be going anywhere. However, it was better to be optimistic in this place, rather than let it break his spirit. He had to be strong... for MJ.

“I’m not sure. But I have hope.”

There was also the fact that they had to be bought in order to be freed, and no one good ever came to this planet. Even if someone did, they wouldn’t care about them. Slavery was completely legal on Tatooine thanks to the hutts.

Peter started softly rubbing MJ’s back which was covered in scars. Both new and fresh. The whip Jaina had used tore open the skin at the back, beginning to let blood pour out on to the ground at a slow pace. But this always made her feel better. The injuries would heal in time. The pain was something that would remain forever.

Out of nowehere, through the panel on the door, their food slide through. It was only half a glass of water, and a couple of scraps of bread. Their food outside of the cell was nothing to be proud of. In here, it was so much worse.

A starving MJ grabbed her piece and scarfed it down in seconds, licking her hands in an attempt to get the crumbs that remained.

He looked down at his own, eyes darting between the food and the malnourished girl.

“Here.” Peter said. “Take mine.”

Peter was extremely skinny himself, and short in stature. He usually shared his portions with the other slaves. The longest he was able to go without eating was an entire week before giving in. Peter had grown so weak that he wasn't even able to stand up straight.

“You need it more than I do.” He said, holding it closer.

MJ reluctantly took it from his hands, inching closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek, brushing the corner of his lips for a brief moment.

“Thank you.”

It didn’t seem like a big deal. At the time, it seemed like an innocent gesture between two children. Maybe that’s what it was. But years later, Peter could not, and would not dare to forget it.

The two of them fell asleep together a little while later. The ground was hard and cold thanks to the darkness and all the sand. But to them, it was completely normal. It’s not like their so called ‘beds’ were any more comfortable. This was all they'd known in their short lives.

In the middle of the night, Peter and MJ were woken from their slumber by Jaina banging of the door furiously. They stood up immediately. Peter clutched tightly onto MJ’s hand. She never came into the cell during the punishments. Whatever Jaina wanted, it was almost certainly going to end with their harm.

They were met with a bright light coming from the compound, with the silhouette standing in the doorway.

“Parker." She huffed. "Get out of here. You’re free.”

Peter felt his mouth go dry. He wasn’t sure if he should have believed what he just heard. There was no way this could be real. It had to be a dream

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re free. Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind”

Peter turned to MJ excitedly, who was smiling so brightly that he was sure that she was going to burst. With their hands still locked, he felt it begin to tremble with joy as she bounced up and down on her heels.

“I told you we would get out of here!”

Peter started to run out of the room with MJ, laughing genuinely for the first time in a long time. Much to their surprise, Jaina stopped them both by grabbing her by the shoulder, digging her nails into MJ.

“Not Michelle. They only want you.”

Now he really hoped this was a dream. They had to be free! Both of them! MJ was the one who deserved to be free. Not him

“Who are they?”

“The Jedi. They’re taking you back to the temple on Tython.”

That didn't make any sense. The Jedi would never come to Tatooine, let alone care about a junkyard slave like him.

“But why can’t MJ come?”

“She’s not force sensitive like you are.”

Jaina let go of MJ and grabbed Peter’s arm, started pulling him away. Due to the size difference, his grip from her was immediately ripped away.

“Wait!" He shrieked. "Please! Just let me say goodbye.”

Surprisingly, Jaina let go of Peter, throwing him back into the arms of MJ.

“You have one minute.”

That wasn't long enough. One minute to say goodbye to the person who mattered to him most was more cruel than anything she'd ever done. He turned back to MJ as they both had tears in their eyes. Peter pulled her into a hug, refusing to let go.

“I’ll come back for you.” He promised, voice breaking.

“You promise?” She asked, appearing to doubt his words.

“I promise.”

They spent the rest of their final moments together in silence, just holding each other. Before he realized what was happening, Jaina pulled Peter away, dragging him through the sand. Just like that, she was no longer in his arms.

“I WILL come back for you!”

Peter was pulled around the corner, and he could no longer see his friend. She was just... gone. She was no more. It was like Peter was being ripped in two. He had heard stories of the Jedi. They were dedicated to serving others and keeping peace in the galaxy, but that was the last thing on his mind right now.

Out in the streets, Peter was brought in front of a tall man with red robes, and a goatee. The weapon on his belt indicated that he was indeed a Jedi Knight. The man got down on his knee to bring himself to Peter’s height.

“Who are you?” Peter asked in fear.

“Jedi Master Tony Stark.” He said, extending his hand. “You are Peter Parker. Correct?”

Peter nodded quickly in response, shaking Master Stark's hand.

“Y-yes master.”

Tony smiled in sympathy at the boy, using the sleeve of his robe to wipe away the tears.

“I know you are upset about your friend. I’m sorry we tried everything we could, but we could not free her as well.”

“Will I ever see her again?” Peter asked through his sobbing.

“Perhaps you will. Only if it is the will of the force.”

On the ship back to Tython, Peter only thought of MJ. He had abandoned his best friend. He had left her as a slave with that awful woman. She was truly alone now.

Hate. That's the only emotion that was going through his head at the moment. He hated Jaina. Peter couldn't blame this 'Stark', however. He said they did everything they could to free MJ, and he believed it. The one at fault was that woman.


Peter opened his eyes weakly to see that he was back in his room in the temple. A whole nine years had passed, and he never forgot MJ. Every night, Peter dreamed of the day when he last saw her. It was more like a nightmare.

His masters had told him to let go of his emotions, but he couldn’t do so. Peter was told not to have attachments to anything. People, or possesions. So much so that his room was empty except for his clothes, bed, and lightstaber. But he was also told to have compassion for others. It was very confusing, if not damaging for a young mind.

Peter got out of his bed, clearing the lump in his throat and sitting on the ground, breathing deeply. No matter how much he meditated or studied the Jedi code, he never went a day without thinking of MJ. He was truly attached to her.

He was pulled from his focus when his comlink echoed throughout the room.


“Did I wake you, my young padawan?” Master Tony asked.

“No. I’ve been up for a few minutes.”

Peter also had an attachment to his master. Tony was the only father figure he had in his entire life. He also wasn’t like the other masters. Tony did what he thought was right, regardless if it went against the council. To Peter, he wasn’t just a great Jedi, but a good man.

“I hate to disturb you, but master Fury has requested your presence.”

“Now?” He groaned.


He shook his head in a huff, standing to his feet.

“Yes master.”

Peter hung up his comlink and began to get dressed. The tunic he wore was made from a light grey cloth, which had been ripped at the sleeves. He gathered his comlink and lightsaber looking down upon it and gripping the hilt tightly.

It wasn’t very complex in any sense. Neither was he. The hilt of a lightsaber was often a reflection of the one who wielded it. Made up of silver and carbon, it lacked detail.

The black carbon is what the body was made of, with a patch of silver in the middle. The ends were also made of silver, where the blade extended, and a place to hang on his belt.

Peter began to head out the door, walking out of the west wing of the temple towards the meditation room. Just another day on Tython.


“Enter.” Master Fury said.

Fury was sitting on his chair with his eye closed.

“Sit down, young one.”

Just the way he said 'young one' annoyed him. It was condescending, exactly the way Jaina used to call him 'slave'.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Correct.” Fury inhaled. “I sense that you’re in distress.”

Peter wouldn’t bother lying. Fury’s powers were far beyond his.

“I am.” He conceeded.

“Your thoughts dwell on your past.”

These meetings were pretty routine. Fury never checked up on the other padawans as much as he did with Peter. When Tony first brought him to Tython, he was hesitant to have him trained considering his age and life experiences. Part of him saw the process as a type of brainwashing.

“They do.”

“Someone close to you. Your friend, Michelle Jones.”

“Yes master. But her name's MJ.” Peter corrected.

The two of them had discussed his dreams before. Fury always gave him 'guidance' when he needed it. And he was quite blunt with his words. The Jedi's idea of guidance was far different from Peter's. Fury never really listened, only responding with empty phrases.

“Saying goodbye and letting go of people is apart of life, Parker. Do not mourn those you lose. Do not miss those you lose.”

‘So, you’re saying I shouldn’t be human. Makes sense’. Peter thought to himself.

“What must I do master?”

“Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose. Your fellow padawans. Your master. And even MJ.”

That was something Peter couldn’t do.

“I promise master.”

“Good. You may go now.”

Peter bowed to Fury before leaving with his fists clench. Hatred was not the Jedi way, but once it was born, it could not be killed. It was going to remain with him until the day he died.

Some days, he didn’t feel like a Jedi at all. He would never go against them though. They were the only family he had at the moment. But everything he was told growing up, it made him feel empty inside. Peter thought the Jedi Order would be a fullfilling life. However, he was treated like an object here. Treated like a weapon and forced to serve.

All the rules he had to follow made his life even more frustrating. The worst one, was that he could only travel with his master. If he could, Peter would go back to Tatooine to free MJ in a heartbeat.

But there was no chance. No assignments, no free time. Just nothing.

Being away from MJ made him feel trapped. Deep down, he was always a slave.

Chapter Text

Whenever his class of padawans were confined to the classroom, Peter always chose his seat in the back corner, completely separated from his fellow students.

Looking up from his desk, he became aware that everyone else had finished, or almost finished reading the passage. Hence the reason he wanted to be alone when it came to the academic side of training.

Growing up as a slave, he never received any education. About anything for that matter. Not even something as ‘simple’ as reading and writing. Peter just couldn’t do it.

Every single master he had just stuck some words in front of him, and expected that he’d be able to know what it meant. So, Peter resorted to teaching himself.

Something that proved to be quite pointless.

Peter couldn’t even use the phrases he read on Tatooine since they were all written in Huttese instead of Basic.

Despite the ways his fellow padawans mocked him, and what his instructors implied all the time, he wasn’t stupid. Peter was able to learn easier in different ways. For example, his master always showed him how to do something before he tried. And Tony never treated him differently for it.

For what Peter lacked in basic knowledge of the Republic and his almost nonexistent Force abilities, he more than made up with in his skills with a lightsaber. Often taking his frustrations out during sparring.

Trying to read the datapad as fast a possible, Peter struggled to sound out the letters in his head. Not a single word of it made sense.

Without warning, the datapad flew away from his desk along with the others, back into the hand of Master Torpoli.

Peter sunk down in his seat, cowering from the rest of the class, just hoping that she wouldn’t call on him. But at the same time, he would speak up if he had to.

Being outspoken of his different opinions on slavery and the galaxy didn’t make him very well liked among the Jedi Order either.

“Parker.” Torpoli practically shouted, causing him to look up in a panic. “Seeing as you’ve been paying attention so well, how about you share your thoughts on the Senate.”

The faces of his fellow padawans ranged from smirks to completely expressionless. While some of them had become emotionless as the Jedi desired, others were more… ill-mannered.

“I was paying attention.” He stated, not caring whether or not he was coming off as disrespectful. “But I couldn’t understand what the passage was about, and you know that. So, how about you ask someone else instead of wasting your time with me.”

Torpoli stood up at the front of the room, shaking her head at Peter.

“The passage that you were supposed to read was about the Galactic Senate, the Republic, and the Jedi’s crucial involvement in the war against the Sith Empire. Now, young Parker, would you like to share your thoughts?”

Peter could tell from that she was telling him to share his opinion instead of asking. It was like she was setting him up to fail.

“I don’t like the Republic.” He said bluntly. “And I think that the Jedi are losing their way because of the war. We should –”

“Enough!” She snapped it him, causing the whole class to jump out of their seats. “What your fellow padawan has just demonstrated is a perfect example of why the Jedi Order has age restrictions. When a reckless boy who has already formed opinions on the galaxy joins us, they almost always end up becoming failures. Parker. it’s time that you finally assimilate to our ways and give up your pointless cause. Slavery –”

“But we should stop fighting a pointless war and actually help people who need it!” Peter shouted, his anger growing. “How are you even certain that the Jedi are truly good and this Sith are wrong?!”

He stood up from his desk in a huff, beginning to head out the door to meet Tony on the training grounds.

“Because that’s the way things are.” Torpoli called out. “Every Jedi knows this to be truth.”

Peter knew that they never really believed that. It was just what they were raised to think. For most of these people, they never learned anything other than what the Jedi taught them.

He felt sorry for them. He actually did. Because just like him, every Jedi in the galaxy had been ripped away from their homes just like he was. Forced to serve under a master who never had their best interests at heart.

Peter was told that the Sith were evil. But no one ever explained why or how. Every master was like a screaming child, convinced they were right with nothing to back it up.

From his point of view, the Jedi were the real evil in his life. They could have saved Michelle. She could have been right here beside him.

Tony was the only one who understood Peter. While he had been granted the rank of Jedi Master, Stark was extremely vocal about the lost way of the Order. He even went as far to refuse joining the Jedi Council.

As his master came into view, waiting for his padawan on the training ground, Peter discarded his black robe to the side.

“Walked out of class again?” He asked with a knowing look.

Peter relaxed his muscles, jumping up onto the wooden poles to practice his balance.

“It was a waste of time. What do politics even have to do with becoming a Jedi?”

Tony outstretched his hand, moving an incredibly large boulder in front of him with ease. While Peter wasn’t incredibly strong in the Force, and even struggled to use his powers, his master was the exact opposite.

Being the padawan to one of the most skilled Force users in the galaxy immediately put high expectations on Peter. Something that only added to his resentment of the masters. Especially Fury.

“When I was your age, I hated those classes too. And I agree that we shouldn’t become involved in the Senate, you need to learn control. I sense a deep anger in you already, and I assure you that it does you no good to act upon these emotions.”

Peter let out a deep breath, raising his own hand to try and lift the boulder.

“How do you know that?”

Tony sat cross-legged in the grass and dirt, eyes starting to darken.

“It was a lesson I learned far too late. With my power, I became… arrogant. I was on the verge of going down a dark path, and that’s a path I hope to never find myself on again. At the time, I had become a person that I despised.”

The boulder started to tremble, and Peter continued to question his master while staying half focussed on the training.

“So, what changed?”

Tony then stroked his beard with a look of sadness spreading over his face.

“My master, Yinsen, and I were captured by a group of pirates on Taris. And it was because of my carelessness. They took our lightsabers, and stuck us in a cave for months. Almost took my heart.”

The boulder raised up briefly, before crashing down to the ground with a thud. But the distance was so small, it was almost unnoticeable.

“How’d you get out?”

He pulled back the opening of his tunic slightly to reveal a small circle that glowed a blue that resembled their lightsabers, along with scars coming along the edges of his chest.

“Yinsen helped me build this. It works to fix my heart, and it’s really packs a punch when I want it to. But my master… didn’t make it out. He told me not to waste my life. It was hard to change at first, but it was the greatest lesson he’d ever taught me. Sometimes, you have to fail so you can succeed later. And I’m going to be honest with you, kid. Before the council sent me to pick you up, most of them wanted me to leave you behind. They saw darkness in your future, and with the anger inside you, that vision is getting closer and closer.”

Peter jumped down from the poles, sitting down next to his master.


Tony nodded slowly in response, finally meeting his gaze.

“It was unclear. Some thought it was another person in your life. Some thought that you would fall. Regardless, there’s the potential in you for both possible futures. Don’t listen to the council. It does you no good to act on your emotions. But if you keep something as complicated as emotions bottled inside, they’ll eat you alive.”

Peter looked down at himself, fear looming over him.

He didn’t want to see these dark futures come true. Even if he was skeptical about the Sith and their true intentions with the galaxy, not one word of the sentence promised good.

“Relax.” Tony said, placing an arm around the young boy. “Nothing has happened yet. Make sure to keep your concentration on the here and now. It’s where your mind belongs. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, master.”

Chapter Text

Master Fury rarely let Peter go on assignments with Tony. If ever, in fact. Whenever something came up, he would get left behind on Tython. Unless of course it was absolutely necessary that he had to accompany his master.

Peter got the sense that Fury thought that he would run to Tatooine the first chance he got.

This was of course true.

When he was a boy, Peter often tried to steal shuttles from the temple grounds. But no matter how many times he did this, he never got the chance to go to lightspeed.

So, yes. Master Fury’s concerns were completely valid.

However, that made it all the more curious when he actually requested that Peter go with Tony on his next assignment. And it was anything but a crucial one. Hardly something that padawans should need to assist with.

In the Outer Rim, a few Republic Troopers had taken control of an Imperial Frigate. Seeing as it was out of fuel, Peter and Tony were instructed to bring over enough supplies to help them along their way back to Coruscant.

“I don’t understand, Master.” Peter said as they walked down the corridor in the brig where Troopers were throwing the Imperial Officers into the cells. “The Republic has plenty of refueling ships out in the sector. Why would the Jedi need to provide assistance?”

Tony took in a deep breath, closing his eyes, appearing to be focusing on something else.

“I sense something.” He muttered. “I’m… not entirely sure what.”

Peter followed his masters lead, closing his eyes, but felt nothing. Only emptiness. Despite what other students could do, all he saw was what was in front of him.

“I can’t sense anything.” He said with frustration.

“I assure you, Peter, your senses will develop in time. You just need to have some patience.”

“But what if they don’t?” Peter whined. “I’m the only padawan my age who can’t do it. Even the younglings are more advanced than I am.”

Tony placed his hand on his shoulder, sighing.

“Only in Force abilities. You’re too hard on yourself, kid. Despite what Master Fury tells you, there’s more to being a Knight than how strong you are.”

As the two entered the hangar, the blast doors suddenly closed behind them. Looking around the area, Peter and Tony realized that the whole area was empty. Not a single Trooper or droid was in sight.

Out of nowhere, a dark ship came flying through the airlock, landing not too far away from their own.

Tony grabbed Peter by the arm, pushing him toward the direction of the shuttle.

“Kid, I need you to run.”

The ships ramp opened slowly, revealing two men in black and red robes with lightsabers on their belts. As the descended towards the master and his padawan, activating their red blades, Tony let go of Peter and turned to him.

“But we can take them together, Master!” He exclaimed. “Let me help you!”

“I’m not going to argue about this, Peter! I said go!”

Tony pulled his attention away from Peter, activating his blue lightsaber and charging at the two Sith.

Pushing one of them back with the Force, he locked blades with the other, staring into his bloodshot, yellow eyes.

Tony then flipped over behind him, causing him to stumble forward. Kicking him in the back towards the floor, the other Sith came back to his feet while throwing his double-bladed sword at his head.

Catching it in mid air without even blinking, he adjusted his stance, pointing one blade at each of the Sith.

“There are two of us!” One of them screamed at him, launching Force lightning from his hand. “Even without my blade, you cannot match the power of the Sith!”

Blocking the attack with both blades, Tony threw the lightning back at the other Sith who absorbed it like it was nothing.

The two kept advancing, shooting lightning from all angles. Even though he was keeping perfect focus between both, Tony’s feet began to slide across the floor, and his blades began to tremble.

“Master!” Peter called out with lightsaber drawn while attacking one of them.

He knew he could have beaten both of these Sith by himself. Lightsaber skills were the only talent Peter had. And if he couldn’t protect Michelle, it was his responsibility to protect his master. He was better than him! He didn’t need to listen when he was only trying to help.

The double-bladed saber was pulled away from Tony’s hands, back into the possession of the Sith.

“Peter! I said go! You’re not safe here!”

Ignoring his masters warning, Peter slashed repeatedly at the Sith with all his might. He wasn’t even trying to be precise like in training. All he had to do was stay on the offensive.

The Sith blocked his attacks, but struggled to keep up with their speed as he continued walking backwards.

Peter took one of his hands away from his hilt, keeping the dominant hand so he could retain his ability. When he was in
between strikes, he attempted jabs towards his face, landing some successful blows which almost knocked him off balance.

He wasn’t fighting like a Jedi should have. Jedi weren’t supposed to be going for the kill. But the hatred and anger deep down inside Peter had been brought completely to the surface that it was too late to turn back now.

He just kept going through the motions, until he saw an opening.

Retreating for just a moment, he gave the Sith the opportunity to kill him in an arrogant attempt to claim victory. Ducking the swing to his head, Peter swept his leg across the floor, tripping him.

He held his blue blade mere inches away from the Sith’s neck, breathing heavily with darkness coming off him like it was sweat.

The Sith grinned, moving closer to the blade as though he thought it was a joke.

“Strike me down, boy.” He mocked. “It would be so easy, wouldn’t it?”

Peter looked down at his hands, realizing what he was about to do. Part of him told him that it was wrong, but the majority didn’t care. Deep down, he craved to kill. It was a chance to inflict the same amount of pain that the galaxy had always given him.

“I sense great fear in you. The hate… the arrogance. You feel… something you shouldn’t. Something the Jedi wouldn’t allow. You…” He said, eyes widening in surprise. “… love someone. And you couldn’t even protect her.”

Losing control, Peter raised his blade up into the air to land the final blow.

Seeing the opportunity that had been given, the Sith merely waved his hand, and Peter couldn’t even move a muscle. He stood there in the hangar paralyzed, listening to the clashing blades behind him as Tony was still fighting the other enemy.

The Sith laughed to himself, brushing the dust off of his robe and standing to his feet.

“I must admit, young Jedi, that you’re impressive. Most impressive.” He said, activating his blade once again. “If you truly tapped into the anger – ALL your anger – I admit that you would have bested me. The Sith really could have helped you. If it’s power you lack, we could have given that to you. If it’s the girl you wish to see again… that is still possible.”

‘Really?’ Peter though to himself, since he was unable to speak.

Despite this, he seemed to understand what was going through his head.

“I have no reason to lie to you.”

The Sith grabbed him by the neck and lifted Peter up into the air with his bare hands, not even using the Force to accomplish the feat of strength.

“I promise that I will not kill you, child. I wish to give you a chance. But that doesn’t mean you will leave this battle unscathed.”

With a quick swing, Peter’s right arm had been sliced at the forearm, falling down to the ground with his blade still inside.

He couldn’t even make a noise, but he was screaming in pain on the inside with tears forming in his eyes. His grey robes were singed at the sleeves. And the only thing keeping from from bleeding out on the spot was the fact that the lightsaber had sealed off the wound.

As he hung motionless in the air, his body went limp, passing out from the extreme pain that consumed him.

Dropping Peter back onto the floor, the Sith picked Tony up with the Force, throwing him across the room to where his padawan layed, knocking him out in the process.

“Come, Overseer Strucker. We have what we’ve come for.”

The one called Strucker deactivated his blade, following the other Sith into the ship, but clearly objecting.

“But how?! Our orders were to –”

“All in good time, the results will become seen. I believe that the Widow will be very pleased with our mission. Do not speak a word of this to anyone else, however. The moment has not come yet.”

Tony weakly got up off from the floor, just as the blast doors opened and Republic Trooper came running into the anger.

He locked his eyes upon his padawan, gazing upon where his right arm used to be.

“Peter?!” Tony shouted, trying to get him to wake up.

There was no response.

“I need to get him to the medical droid! Now!”

“Right away, sir!” The Troopers responded.



Tony paced back and forth outside of the Medical bay, ignoring everyone else coming in and out of the area.

Master Fury stepped in front of him suddenly, stopping him in his tracks.

As per usual, he had a glare on his face, shaking his head in disappointment.

Instead of asking about Peter’s condition, he resorted to bashing his padawan as he always did.

“I knew he was too old to begin the training. Any other padawan in his class could have broken free from their grip. Parker disobeyed your instruction, didn’t he?”

Tony clenched his fists, pushing Fury back slightly.

“He was just trying to protect me.” He stated.

“And how did that turn out? Parker is weak, and emotional. If he continues down this path, we will have no choice but to expel him from the Jedi Order. You know this, Stark. His chances at becoming a Knight are growing slimmer. Get the boy under control, or we’ll have to resort to extreme measures. That’s an order.”

Chapter Text

Peter gazed down at his new Mechno-arm in horror, resting it upon the metal table, but feeling nothing as he used to. He didn’t care about the skeletal, droid-like appearance that replaced his once pale skin. The movement was in fact the same, if not better than what he had before.

The medical droid had even designed his prosthetic so Peter would be capable of registering feelings in the hand, even pain of all things.

But what he lacked now would be the thing that he could never get back.


It was the first thing Peter noticed. Not the gold metal, or the exposed red wiring along the fingertips and forearm, or even the de-humanizing opinion that his fellow Jedi would undoubtedly have of him.

What broke him inside was the realization he would be incapable of so many sensations he held dear.

Waking up in the morning and feeling the cold metal of his blade in hand, working as a wake-up call for him and even an extension of himself.

Clutching Michelle’s hands protectively as they slept together on the sandy grounds of the holding cell. Wiping away her tears after they were whipped. The soft, warmth of her flesh.

Peter had felt none of it for years. Now, he would have to try and accept that his right hand would never experience it again.

Off in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but hear the Sith’s words echo repeatedly. Not in a taunting sense as one would have expected. Whoever that being was underneath that hood, he appeared to genuinely want to help Peter.

“If it’s the girl you wish to see again… that is still possible.”

‘How could that be possible?’ He asked to himself repeatedly. ‘How did the Sith even know about Michelle?’

Unlike the first, the second question was easily answered. Power. The Dark Side obviously granted Sith Lords powers that Jedi could only dream of, and weren’t even allowed to learn about. Master Fury even considered them to be unnatural.

The concept was incredible in Peter’s mind. His power was so extreme that he was able to look inside his mind, and tell him exactly what he desired above all. And given that a padawan was able to best him in a duel, this Sith was most likely considered weak by the standards of his Order.

“Imagine how easily you could find MJ with that kind of power.” Peter whispered to himself.

He had to admit that the idea was tempting. Although he would never want to become a Sith or betray the Jedi in any sense, using some of their knowledge must have been harmless. Peter would be doing it to help his best friend. And as Tony always said; no act is more noble than to save the life of someone in need.

As the medical droid walked back over to him, it suddenly grabbed him by his now thin wrist, causing him to flinch violently. Almost as if it was a reflex, Peter broke free from its grip, reaching up towards its metal head and crushing with ease.

He sat in the medical chair, breathing heavily and looking at the sight with awe. After nine years of no longer being a slave and being able to eat enough food, Peter was able to put on a decent amount of muscle thanks to his training.

He was by no means ‘weak’ physically. However, this feat of strength was something he never thought he could possibly perform. The only person who would have come close in the order was Master Banner. And even then, that was a green giant compared to a sixteen-year-old boy.

Peter let go of the crushed droid, stumbling to his feet and immediately falling over in the processes. He didn’t know how long he had been out for, but by the feel of things, it must have been hours, if not days.

In frustration, he formed a fist with his Mechno-arm, slamming it against the floor and cracking it significantly. Peter had left behind a fist-shaped hole, along with lines coming out from the centre.

Never before had he felt such power like this. He’d been told constantly that he was weak, and couldn’t help but feel a shroud of pride looming over him. Perhaps even more arrogance than normal.

Peter grabbed the chair off to the side, picking himself back up to his feet, although his knees were trembling slightly. Putting one foot in front of the other slowly, he had to put far more care into the task than usual to avoid falling again.

Stepping out of the medical bay, still wearing his white robes, Peter stumbled past his worried master as if nothing was out of the ordinary, smiling to himself brightly.

Tony stood to attention quickly, chasing after his padawan, though struggling to move as well since he hadn’t left his spot since Peter had been taken back to the Jedi Temple.

“Kid!” He called out. “You’re awake!”

Peter felt his legs begin to adjust, but instead of speeding up as he could have, he came to a stop, allowing his master to finally catch up to him.

Tony placed his hand on Peter’s forehead, looking him in the eyes while inspecting his condition. While he was a bit more pale than usual, and dark circles had formed under his eyes, Peter had never felt better than before.

The troubles that his Mechno-arm would bring him were immediately forgotten, now fixated on his new superhuman strength.

“Are you alright?” Tony asked, clutching onto Peter tightly.

He shrugged off his gesture, smiling genuinely for the first time in a long time, heading down the temple stairs.

“Never better.” He stated. “I’m just heading down to the lab.”

Much like his master, Peter had a love of building things, often tinkering together on their starfighters (although they were rarely used) and other droids they could get their hands on. The ‘lab’ he spoke of was just the empty room they chose to store all this tech in, as well as spare parts and tools.

He wanted to see where he could take his new enhancements. Maybe even make it look a little bit more impressive. While Peter wasn’t complex by any means, and didn’t care for cosmetic details, the Mechno-arm reminded him of how he used to look when he was a weak, malnourished child.

Peter wanted to not only make it look stronger, but perform better with his lightsaber and increase his speed and strength. There must have been something down there that could get the job done.

“You’re… not going to let the medical droid give you the Sythskin?”

“Nope.” He said proudly.

He now wanted to have his arm out for all to see. Especially the Jedi Masters and the Council. Without a doubt, the fact he had a prosthetic arm would have been frowned upon. Leaving the metal and wires exposed instead of coating it in synthetic skin would drive Fury crazy.

It was definitely not the noblest of intentions. Far from it, in fact. Peter was being selfish, but didn’t care. If they were all so focused on his failures, and still treating him like a slave – and not even like a human being in some cases – the Jedi’s opinion shouldn’t have mattered to him.

Peter felt as though he had earned the right.

Suffering a lifetimes worth of abuse was almost too much to handle. The galaxy nearly turned him from an optimistic person, to someone who could easily give up hope. Despite what the Jedi Code said, they surely couldn’t expel him for choosing to exercise his freewill.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Tony asked as they entered the lab. “I sense that you want something, and you’re afraid to talk about it.”

Peter wasn’t exactly afraid to talk. But he was worried that his master would deny him what he needed.

Taking out some tools and spare parts, setting them down on the table, he rested his Mechno-arm on his lap, tearing away a couple of pieces in order to expose all the wiring underneath.

“Well, Master,” He began, clearing the lump in his throat. “I was thinking about what you said about my classes. And maybe taking my studies seriously wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Tony leaned against the wall, narrowing his eyes at his padawan.

“What are you getting at, Peter?”

“I want to have access to the Holocron Vaults.” Peter responded immediately.

Far beneath the Jedi Temple were the Holocron Vault, which were large chambers that contained the most closely guarded secrets of the Jedi Order. Both of Light Side, and Dark Side knowledge.

“You do realize that only Jedi Master’s are able to go down there. And need I remind you that you’re only a padawan, and have a very, VERY long way to go.”

“I know.” He whined. “But it just isn’t fair. How come you have to be a master in order to be able to learn something? And why does Fury get to decide what I know and don’t know?! He’s just using it to keep his own secrets safe!”

Peter’s hatred towards Fury was known by all, but they never realized the extent of it. He barely understood it himself. Even before all the humiliation, Peter’s hate was drawn to him as fast as lightning. It was almost as if the Force told him that something was off about the Grand Master.

Very little was known about the eye patched Jedi. What people questioned most is why he even wore that thing when he could have replaced that damage with a prosthetic.


“I don’t trust him either.” Tony admitted. “Of course, I don’t. And you’re right. His secrets have fucking secrets. But as much as I hate to say it, rules are rules. There are reasons that people are restricted from that place. Not all knowledge is good. It can be a dangerous thing. If you found something you didn’t want to know, it could ruin your life forever. Do you understand?”

“But –”

“Do you understand?” Tony tried again in a stern voice.

Peter sighed, turning his attention back to his arm and unscrewing the power supply.

“Yes, Master.”

If he couldn’t get into the vault with Tony’s permission, he would have to figure out a way to get inside by himself. One way or another, he would be able to free Michelle.

Chapter Text

Through the almost complete darkness in the empty halls inside the Jedi Temple, Peter stepped quietly across the floor, keeping one hand gripped tightly around his lightsaber while looking over his shoulder repeatedly.

There was no telling if any Knights or Padawans would be up at the late hour as well, not to mention the guards who roamed the temple regularly. Peter had to stay out of sight, and move as quickly and quietly as possible, or this would take a turn for the worst.

The silence inside the Jedi Temple was almost as if all life on the planet had ceased. The only sound that could be heard was Peter’s racing heart, along with his incredibly heavy breathing.

With sweat dripping down his brow, Peter could only imagine what would happen if one of the masters had caught him roaming the halls past his bedtime, let alone what he was about to do.

Coming to the elevator which lead to the Holocron Vault, he brought himself down to his knees, slowly removing the control panel from off of the wall and placing it down on the ground, the faint clink of metal appearing more like a bang.

Peter froze, holding his position for a few moments, just hoping that no one would have heard him. When the temple remained silent, he resumed his work, taking his new Mechno-arm and beginning to feed it through the series of intricate wires that were buried within the wall.

Although Tony had taught him to perform these sorts of tasks, Peter needed to put the controls back in the exact way he found them, otherwise there would be no chance of success.

After slowly pulling away a single wire, Peter proceeded to push a series of buttons that were placed along the side of the door while also sending an electric pulse through the system via his prosthetic arm. Just then, the elevator door slid open, a dim light contained inside the area.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Peter got up off of the floor, ignoring the panel at the moment and instead stepped into the elevator and bouncing up and down in place with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

He shouldn’t have been doing this. He was throwing his entire life away, and he knew it. But without Michelle, Peter never saw being a Jedi Knight as a life worth living. Even something as horrific as being beaten and enslaved as a child could be made bearable simply by being in her presence. Getting to smile at her from across the room as they worked. The chance to sleep beside her at the end of the day.

Peter truly loved Michelle, and he was no longer afraid to admit that to himself. That Sith had helped him realize the truth. Their relationship, despite not seeing each other for almost an entire decade, was something far greater than friendship. He couldn’t survive without her, and he was willing to do anything to save her.

As the door opened, revealing a room that was filled with thousands upon thousands of Holocrons that were shaped as small cubes and glowing a shade of blue that resembled his lightsaber, Peter felt a chill run down his spine, almost hearing wind as if it was whispering in his ear.

His instructors had mentioned Holocrons from time to time during his classes, claiming that the knowledge they contained were too sensitive for the selfish minds of the galaxy.

However, Peter didn’t know how he was to find what he was looking for. He didn’t even know what he was looking for. Maybe a scrap of information about Michelle’s whereabouts. Perhaps a way to gain power, something that would help him to achieve his goals. Whatever the case, he would know it when he saw it.

Once he took his first step, it was as if the Force pushed him to face the left, like it was leading him towards a certain Holocron. Trying to head in the other direction, the Force only pushed on stronger, and he was too weak to resist.

Closing his eyes, indulging this feat, Peter began to move forward slowly while being guided by the Force – or whatever was really controlling his actions at the moment. The wind whispering in his ear only grew louder, but was still too quiet to decipher.

Involuntarily, Peter raised his arm, feeling a small object fly into his hand not even a second later. Opening his eyes, he saw that the Holocron in his hand was far different from the rest. Instead of being a cube, it was a pyramid, glowing a deep shade of red with smoke appearing to radiate from it.

“I sense great fear in you, young Parker.” The voice echoed throughout the vault. “All of your pain. All of your suffering. The galaxy has not been kind to you, nor has it helped your friend. The Jedi abandoned Michelle, and you know this to be true.”

His eyes flashed yellow for a brief second, but disappeared as quickly as they had coming. Grip growing tighter around the Holocron, Peter nodded along, gazing into his reflection.

“You also have great anger in you. It gives you focus. It can grant you great strength, and your masters wish to prevent this. Master Fury does nothing but lie to you. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, you gain strength. Through strength, you gain power. Through power, you gain victory. Through victory, your chains are broken. The Force shall free you.”

That was a series of phrases that Peter had never heard before. The Jedi never talked positively about passion, nor did they praise strength or victory. Not even freedom of all things. And that was what he valued the most. There was something about this peculiar Holocron. Just the way it spoke to him made him… happy.

“What about MJ?!” He asked desperately, voice breaking due to the mere thought of his best friend in pain. “How can I set her free?! How can I even find her?!”

The volume of the red smoke only grew, surrounding Peter around his boots and then raising up around him, completely clouding his vision from anything on the outside. Looking around frantically, he tried to move, but found himself frozen in place.

After a single flash of light, the smoke cleared, and he saw that he was no longer in the Holocron Vault that was deep within the Temple. Peter instead found himself inside what appeared to be a Hutt’s Palace. He was back on Tatooine, standing among a crowd of people shouting in a drunken pleasure with Republic Credits being passed around them.

It wasn’t just any palace he was in. This was a slave market, just like the one he was sold in all those years ago. Men, women, and even children, who couldn’t have been older than two, were placed in cages as if they were animals, being taken off to their new homes to serve their masters. Peter felt his hands begin to tremble, losing all feeling in his body as fear washed over him.

“Alright, settle down.” One of the Hutts announced proudly, holding his hands in the air until the crowd’s voice died down. “There are plenty more good slaves for you, and we only provide the best for our clients. Bring out the girl!”

Two droids then came out from the back room, carrying a little girl with dark skin and curly hair along with them, tossing her onto the stage. She was sobbing, clutching onto her arms that were riddled with fresh scars, tunic covered in a mixture of dirt and dried blood.

“MJ.” Peter gasped, wanting nothing more than to rush forward to help her.

It was nothing more than a vision, and he couldn’t do anything to save her. MJ was sold just mere days before Peter, although they were at completely different markets. She only ever spoke of it once though, and couldn’t remember how she got there.

“You can still find her.” The Holocron spoke once again persuasively. “Go back to your true roots. You must make Jaina suffer as you have suffered. Destroy the Hutts. You can stop all of this from happening to others. All that is required is that you give in to your anger.”

The smoke materialized from the Holocron for a second time, surrounding Peter by the feet and moving to cover his surroundings, cutting his vision off from the younger Michelle.

“Please.” Peter begged. “J- just let me see her. I need to know that she’s safe.”

Looking off into the distance of the red smoke, a figure in a black cloak stood tall, a hood pulled over their head as they walked forward slowly. Peter couldn’t make out any other details of their appearance though. It was merely a silhouette. All he knew was that it was a woman.

“Peter.” She spoke, voice trembling.

Just before her face was about to come into view, there was another flash, and she was gone. Peter then was left alone. Alone, just like he always was, still a slave to the Jedi Order.