FicWad

Additional Author's Note: 1) Teräs Käsi or "steel hand," is a weaponless martial art form in the SW canon/EU based on a real-life fighting style called Silat. Please see http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Ter%C3%A4s_K%C3%A4si and various links within the article for more details.
2) Joustavia Käsi and Joustavia Keho (and no, I don't speak Finnish. If these names don't essentially translate to "flexible hand" and "flexible body," then please let me know how to fix what I've gotten wrong) are my notions of GFFA versions of yoga http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yoga and Tai Chi Chuan http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thai_Chi for those who're interested.
3) Alderaanian blade-dancing is based on sword dance http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sword_dance but as far as I know is my own (i.e., NOT a canon/EU-based) idea, as pertains to an Alderaanian custom.





The series of interconnected gardens behind the Naberrrie house are carefully crafted to appear wild and overrun, but the meticulous craftsmanship somehow manages to avoid seeming either overdone or fake. It almost manages to remind him of the Temple gardens. Almost. Not quite. But the sheer amount of beauty and planning and maintenance and artistry that’s gone into crafting these gardens is, in Anakin’s opinion, almost as good as some of the gardens at home, in the Temple on Coruscant. Anakin has been wandering happily among the deceptively random-looking jumble of flowering hedges and small fruit trees and rambunctiously overrun flowerbeds and vine-strung fountains and small, swiftly running brooks for perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes before he finally remembers that he’s supposed to be meeting someone out here for a discussion of some kind and it occurs to him that, since no one has tried to locate him by comming him, he should probably use the Force to see if he can locate anyone else within the generously sprawling grounds of the gardens. He’s just about to reach out through the Force when he hears the distinctive noise of a twig snapping behind him and his reflexes get the better of him, sending him down into an instant tumbling roll to the side at the end of which he regains his feet in a swift motion that ends with him facing in the direction of that small crackling sound with his lightsaber ignited in his hands and raised to a high guard position.

The person thus unwisely (even if inadvertently) caught in the act of sneaking up on him stands frozen in place perhaps five meters along the path and a long stride currently to the right of him, left hand splayed in an attitude of surprise over the place where her heart is, right hand pressed tight with shock against her mouth. The sun is behind and to the right of her, throwing her shadow in stark relief and partially obscuring her features, and for a few painful, shocked moments Anakin thinks that Padmé has somehow changed her mind, because all he can see is a slender young woman, noticeably taller than Padmé and seemingly just the right height for Sola’s body, with dark hair and dark eyes in an amethyst-colored gown, hair a loose cloud of not quite curls around a mostly oval-shaped face (features forming a fragile oval aside from the strongly defined line of a stubborn jaw and the proud jut of high cheekbones), hand tilting the face to the side to reveal an upturned nose, the whole of the figure limed in sunlight, etched in harsh lines against the colorful soft splendor of the gardens. But then, instead of calling out his name, the woman carefully lowers he hands and takes a long step to the left, away from the sun, making her features come clear to him. Recognizing her at last, Anakin instantly thumbs off his lightsaber and calmly reattaches the hilt to his belt, holding himself very still to keep the tremor that wants to infect his hands from showing.

“Not your smartest move, Dormé Tammesin,” Anakin quietly notes, careful to keep his voice as quiet and even as possible. “I have recently come from a battlefield, you know.”

“I’m sorry, Anakin. I thought you would sense me.”

“I was enjoying the gardens, not trying to track somebody down. I figured if it was that blasted important, whoever it was who wanted to talk to me would either already be waiting out here for me along the main pathway somewhere or else would comm to make sure we could find each other without resorting to playing chase the bantha or the indignity of shouting.”

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Dormé quietly repeats, lowering her eyes in obvious embarrassment. “I stopped to take my cloak off and put it away somewhere that it wouldn’t be in danger of either wrinkling or having something spilled on it. You made it outside before I did. I was about to call out to you when you – well, when I stepped on the twig and startled you. I’m terribly sorry to have startled you. Honestly, I am. Though I have to admit it was a very impressive move. I doubt very much that I could have shot you, if I’d been a droid.”

A wry grin escapes him before he really has the chance to think it through, and the smile relaxes the tightly held lines of stillness in her body, letting her smile back at him. “That would be the point, Dormé.”

“So I assumed, sir Bendu. Or should I say Master Skywalker?” she asks, arching an eyebrow at him slyly, mouth quirking into a familiar little half-smirk of amusement.

“Anakin, please. You start throwing around those honorary titles like ‘Bendu’ and ‘Master’ and I’ll start looking over my shoulder for Obi-Wan,” he replies with an easy grin, teeth flashing as he strides over to her, bending down slightly, as she lifts her face expectantly, to drop an easy kiss on one ever so lightly freckled cheek.

She rises on tiptoe, her right hand resting lightly on his left shoulder for balance, to brush an answering kiss across his right cheek. Traditional greetings of peace exchanged, she allows herself the luxury of a familiar throaty little chuckle, telling him, “You’ll have to get used to it sooner or later, O heroic one. The galaxy is very grateful to be rid of Sidious, and the new leaders of your Order seem to agree that you deserve to be recognized for your part in removing him.”

“Grand Masters Jinn and Dooku? Actually, they weren’t the ones who suggested the promotion. Oddly enough, that was Yoda.”

“Oh, really? Do tell, Anakin! I always thought that little green goblin loathed you.”

“I don’t think it was anything personal, Dormé. Obi-Wan and I were just a threat to his nice, safe little idea of how the Force functioned and the way the galaxy really worked. It’s hard to like someone who’s destroying your whole world.”

“Anakin Skywalker, are you actually taking Yoda’s part in something? Goodness! I think that’s one of the signs that the world’s coming to an end.”

“Dormé! I don’t think I was ever quite that vehement about opposing Yoda, specifically,” he protests, eyes wide and innocent, before breaking into a huge grin and adding, “just the High Council and the blasted Jedi Code in general. Besides,” he continues by half asking and half simply telling her, his grin fading into a lopsided, wryly self-deprecating smile that looks very much like an expression Obi-Wan might wear, “just because I gave you an opening like that, it doesn’t mean you have to take it, now does it?”

He regrets the mostly rhetorical question almost immediately, as Dormé’s teasing smile instantly slips off of her face, stripped away like a veil, and she recoils ever so slightly from him, her face and throat first blanching and then flushing with almost hectic color, sadness and shame darkening her already dark brown eyes until they look almost black (and all but blind) with grief. “I’m sorry, Anakin,” she repeats, her voice very small as she apologizes for yet a third time, this time obviously meaning it, all but choked silent with sorrow, shoulders rounding and head bowing, apparently too ashamed even to meet his eyes. “I came here to apologize for failing you, and I’m chastising you instead. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Failing /me/? Dormé, what are you talking about? You’ve never failed me. You’ve never even had any real duty towards me,” Anakin insists, at a loss as to what’s gotten her so upset and unable, at first, to think what to do to try to fix it. After an awkward moment of hesitation, he tries to step forward, to put a comforting, reassuring hand on her shoulder, but fetches up short when she shies back from him, her whole body flinching away from his approach. He manages to stop the hurt and the immediate rush of guilty shame that rises within him from showing on his face, but his surprise escapes him when he edges a bit closer to ask her, “Dormé, what’s wrong? Did I do something to make you displeased with me?”

“No, Anakin. You haven’t done anything, ma’chara/. I swear to you that you haven’t done anything to displease, disappoint, or discompose me. It’s just that you’ve recalled me to my task, which I’ve been shirking shamelessly. Whether you think I’ve done so or not, I truly am here to ask your pardon for failing you, not to make you doubt yourself,” Dormé replies, sighing heavily. Then, before he can recover enough from his surprise to reach out and stop her, she pulls herself stiffly upright, takes a long step back from him, and then sinks down to the ground in an oddly familiar looking graceful salaam, folding in on herself like a flower closing its petals at night and collapsing down to the vividly bluish-green turf of the garden path in a gesture of agonizingly heartfelt apology and obviously unabashed pleading, measuring the length of her body against the ground in front of him, stretching out to her full length and yet somehow, simultaneously, giving the impression of huddling up small in her gown, her folded hands pressed to the carpeting grass beneath her forehead. For several long moments he simply stands and stares down at her, at her slender, graceful form trembling, face-down, below him, his mind shocked to a humming blank, recalling a memory of Obi-Wan’s in which Padmé, flower-like (and yet still mask-like) in a rose-hued gown of shimmersilk, had made almost the exact same gesture of supplication and ashamed apology. Before he can gather up enough of his wits to react, she begins to speak in a pain-filled and slightly muffled, low, rapid monotone. “I knew how highly you regarded Padmé and I knew that you’d proven, time and again, to be wholly willing to risk your life to ensure her continued good opinion of you. I knew that this gave her an enormous amount of power over you, and yet I still failed to protect you from my mistress’ weakness, from her loneliness and her vulnerability both to that and to her highly romantic and idealistic nature, her susceptibility to what her family wanted of her and for her and to what little she wanted that she desired just for herself. It didn’t occur to me that I might need to keep /you safe from Padmé’s attentions. I failed you, Anakin. I failed to take the proper precautions and ensure a true chaperone, and so I failed to keep you safe from her. I knew how much she loved your Master, and I was too focused on the need to keep her safe and well while also keeping her away from Bendu Kenobi to see that she was equally likely to become fixated on you, Anakin, on the idea she had of you and the idealized notion she held of romance, if left alone with you with a sufficient amount of time. I didn’t see the danger and she ended up taking advantage of you, whether she meant to or not and whether you realized it or not. She had power over you, Anakin, and she used that power to manoeuver you into a position where she could get what she wanted without ever really giving anything back to you, with no care for the damage she was doing to you. She had all of the real power in the relationship and she took advantage of that fact and of /you/, Anakin. And I let her do it, because I was too busy with other things to do my job properly. I failed to keep you safe and I failed you.”

“Dormé, no! It’s not – it wasn’t like that. Truly, it wasn’t. I took just as much advantage of her as she did of me. We used each other. That’s all there is to it. We were foolish, and selfish, and stupid, and we used each other without ever really realizing or caring how much we were hurting each other and the people around us. I thought I loved her. She thought she loved me. I understand now that we were a lot more infatuated with the ideas we had of each other and what we represented to each other than anything else, but Dormé, that’s not your fault. Really, it’s not. I promise you it isn’t. If she’d kept saying no, I would have let her, and that would’ve been that. Or I could’ve been smart enough to be the one to say no. I could’ve been the one to remember duty and honor and previous promises and commitments, and I could’ve been the one to put a stop to the whole blasted mess. But I didn’t. I was too busy being angry and hurt about something I wouldn’t even let myself understand completely enough to be able to do anything about. I was too busy being needy and selfish and greedy and stupid and neurotic about my own sense of self-worth to really think much of anything through. I let her be the one to do the thinking, to be the one holding the moral high ground. I spent all of my time trying to sway her, to get her to change her mind, and I never even bothered to think it through enough to honestly try to understand her reasons for saying no. It was at least as much my own fault as it was hers. Frell/, it was probably more /my fault than it was hers/, because it never would’ve even become an issue if I hadn’t kept trying to push it, to press myself on to her. Please, get up. /Please. You don’t have to do this. It really wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you or any of Padmé’s other handmaidens at all for what happened. And really, to tell the truth, it wasn’t entirely a bad thing. The handfasting, I mean. It wasn’t all bad, or at least it didn’t just lead to nothing but bad things. There are some very good things that came about because of that handfasting, Dormé. I promise you. I can even prove it to you, if you’ll let me. All you have to do is give me permission to use the Force to touch your mind, and I can show the good that came out of that mess.”

“Master Skywalker – ”

“Dormé, please/,” Anakin cuts her off, not above letting some of the pain he’s feeling seep into his voice if it will make her guilty enough to not just listen to him but to truly hear him. “It’s Anakin, remember? We’ve known each other since before the war, and we’ve been friends – or at least I’ve thought that we were friends. I want to put this right. Please, just give me a chance to make this right. That’s all I’m asking. And I promise that if I can’t convince you that you don’t need to, you can apologize however you think you need to and however many times you want to, alright? Just at least let me try to explain, first, /please/, okay?” he asks, not at all above begging, either, if it’ll get her up off the ground and acting like herself again, instead of acting and looking like a broken doll. He hates the way she’s prostrating herself, hates the way she’s blaming herself for something that she didn’t cause and most likely couldn’t have stopped even if she’d tried to, hates the roil of guilt and shame in the pit of his stomach at the insinuation that Padmé somehow took advantage of him (as if he couldn’t have just told her /no at any time, if he’d really wanted to, as if she could have actually forced him into doing anything he didn’t really want, as if she abused her position and her power somehow to make him do something against his will), hates the way this sudden turn in the conversation makes him feel (filthy, unclean, unworthy, stupid and self-centered and immoral and even evil, in a way, to have been so criminally dumb and unforgivably selfish, and he still can’t understand, when he stops to think about it, no matter how hard he tries to puzzle it out, how Obi-Wan could forgive him, how he could still love him and want him and be with him, after what he’s done), and, most of all, hates the bitter taste of ashes and failure in his mouth and the coldly paralyzing feeling of helplessness weighing him down, holding him down, rooting him in place, unable even to advance or to back away. And thank the Force they had sense enough to talk about this, last night, because he’s not certain what he would do, what he’d be able to think of to do, if Obi-Wan hadn’t had the sense to broach the subject of the handmaids, what they likely already knew and what they would need to know, what they had a right to know, given their unswerving loyalty and unfaltering service to Padmé and the need to keep certain things a secret, to keep them safely tucked away and out of the sight of the general public. He would be panicking, by now, if they hadn’t already decided that they should tell the handmaidens the truth about what had happened with Padmé.

A few more silent heartbeats, and then a long, shuddering, tension-draining sigh shakes itself out of Dormé’s body, shivering her shoulders until her whole slender frame shakes against the grass. He has almost managed to force himself to open his mouth again, to try to reason with her, plead with her, one more time, when she abruptly starts to move, pulling herself up and in and drawing her knees up under her so that, for a moment, she’s kneeling before him instead of measuring her whole body out in front of him. Then she pushes back off of the turf, rising to her feet, her face still looking oddly bloodless, even when streaked with a few tear-tracks, dark eyes cast determinedly down instead of meeting his gaze. “As you will,” she allows, the whisper of assent barely audible, even with him straining after every syllable.

He could simply reach out through the Force and share the knowledge he wants to with her, but this is /Dormé/, this is the only one of Padmé’s handmaidens who’s ever treated him just like any other average, everyday, normal human being (any other ordinary, regular guy, any other friend at all), the same as anyone and everyone else she might happen to spend time with, nothing truly special or different about him at all, just another young man, just someone who happened to be around because occasionally they all happened to have some free time that coincided and she and her lady (and best friend) found him to be pleasant company. To the other handmaidens, he had always been either strange little Ani from Naboo, the boy who blew up the Trade Federation control ship and stopped their droid armies dead in their tracks, or else the Hero With No Fear, the HoloNet legend, the larger than life and (gilded, golden, gods-touched, chosen, prophesied, Chosen One) somewhat mythic partner of Bendu Kenobi, half of the famous Team, /Anakin and Obi-Wan/, /Kenobi and Skywalker/. Dormé is the only one, besides Padmé, who ever treated him like just another living, breathing, feeling sentient being. He truly has thought (had assumed) that they’re friends, real friends, not just two people with ties to Padmé Amidala. So he does what a friend would do, and he reaches out his hands, slowly, carefully, and reaches under to chin to tilt her head up, lift her eyes up from the ground and to his face, his eyes, gently cupping her head in his hands, echoing a pose he’s seen Obi-Wan take, before, waiting to reach for the Force until after the tiny tremor wracking her frame and shutting her eyes against him subsides, letting her open her eyes and really look up at him, finally seeing him again, consent and readiness both rising up from behind the darkness in her eyes while a small, brave smile curves her lips into a shape reassuringly like a smile.

Exhaling, Anakin reaches out to her, through the Force.

***

There are tears welling in Sabé’s eyes – huge, silent tears, heartbroken and rejoicing, raw and joyous and uplifted, uplifting, cathartic, all at once – when the last of the memories, the tail end of the pertinent knowledge, has been shared and Obi-Wan gently extracts himself from her hypnotically thrumming, calming, energizing, resonant depths of her mind and her being, in the Force, pulling back into himself so that he can see her again properly, can face her. He starts to try to pull away physically, as well, but her hands immediately fly upwards, letting his left hand withdraw but capturing his right hand with her own, holding it still and pressing it to her face, letting the quiet but tumultuous tears slide down her face, glistening trails that drip onto his wrist and glide down across the backs of his fingers. Obi-Wan holds very still, then, waiting, trying to give her enough time to make sure of herself, of her mind and her opinions, her feelings, on the matter, patiently waiting her out. It takes more than a few minutes, but Sabé finally comes to her decision, holding onto his hand and wrist to keep him still while she deliberately turns her face in towards him, to his palm, her mouth pressing to the center of his palm, lips moving to shape and to bestow a kiss like a benediction. When her hands loosen on him, he finally moves, stepping forward to sweep her into an embrace, cradling her to him gently, carefully, and tilting his head down to whisper a few quiet words, “I’m sorry, Sabé. But you see, now, don’t you?” his breath ghosting over and into the shell of her ear, making her nod and cling to him tightly, arms tight around his back, unabashedly clinging to him and crying.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, the tears trickle to a halt and her desperate hold on him slackens enough to let her pull back slightly, just enough to make her words intelligible when she tells him, “I understand, Obi-Wan. But /cariodal/, Dormé went to apologize to Anakin. She cares for him a great deal, and it’s been killing her, thinking that she failed him, that we didn’t protect him. She begged to be the one to apologize to him.”

“She is his friend, as you are mine. He’ll explain all of this to her, too, just as soon as he understands what she thinks she’s trying to do and why. Anakin has never been one to let others take the blame for something he’s done wrong. He may not like to admit to doing wrong, but he is not one to try to shift blame to those who have done no wrong. It’ll be alright. You’ll see,” Obi-Wan promises, his voice once again quiet but firm, unwilling to let her try to argue the point when it’s something that he can already vaguely sense, as a reverberating tremor of pain and determination, along their bond.

“I believe you. But I wish – I wish – ”

“Hush, /alanna/. I know. I understand. But this is how things truly are and we can and will make this work. It may even be for the best, that things have fallen out this way, for the two of you most desperately in need of reassurance will come to know, firsthand, how things fell out, and will be able to explain to the others as much or as little as they truly need to know. We will all miss her, in our own ways, but this way, at least, none of us will be carrying any unwarranted guilt associated with her. She truly had no real desire to stay,” Obi-Wan explains reassuringly, carefully shifting his hold on her so that he can run his right hand soothingly from the crown her head down nearly to the small of her back, his fingers spread wide to comb rhythmically through the deep waves of her hair.

She sighs, sadly, before giving him a squeeze to show that she understands. Her voice is a little more muffled from where she’s snuggled a bit closer in his arms when she asks, “Can I see them, Obi-Wan? Please?”

“You know there’s nothing of her in them. No medical test in the galaxy would reveal anything but that they are the genetic offspring of Anakin and I,” is his warning reply.

“I know. That’s not why I’d like to see them, though, /ma’chara/. I want to see the other source of your happiness, if I can, before I agree to completely reorder my life for you.”

“Sabé – ”

“No, no, don’t pull away just yet, please. I didn’t mean it like that and you know it – or you would, if you’d take a moment to think it through,” she adds, a little wryly. “I agree I seem to be the most qualified for the job and I agree that this preoccupation we Nabooians seem to have with purity and innocence in our political leaders isn’t exactly the most rational or efficient way to run a planet, especially not when it leads us to write people off once they reach their thirties even though most humans can live, quite easily, to two hundred or more years of age and would have to be pushing a hundred before they’d be considered middle-aged by most of the rest of the galaxy. And I understand, now that you’ve shown me how much you mean for the Jedi and the galactic government both to change, just how important that kind of integration is going to be. I just – I’d like to see them, please, if I may.”

“Sabé, the New Jedi Bendu Order won’t be repeating the mistakes of the old Order. If you wish to have a family of your own some day – ”

“Obi-Wan. I’ve only ever known five people in the galaxy I would have felt comfortable broaching the subject of children with. Two of them are dead. Two of them are wholly off-limits. And I know enough about the culture that’s shaped the other’s belief systems and the way that one thinks to know that I could never ask such a thing. It’s alright, though. I still have a lot of time to find someone else, after all, don’t I?” she interrupts him to ask, her calmly matter-of-fact recitation marred only by the note of brittleness in her laugh. “Obi-Wan, truly, it’s alright. Or it will be alright, in any case. I just – I’d like to see them. You seem so happy, /ma’chara/. Please?”

“Threepio and Artoo are with them. They’re likely still sleeping. The transition to flesh seems to have taken tired them a great deal,” he warns her.

“I don’t care if they’re sleeping or awake and squalling up a storm, /ma’chara/. I’d just like to see them, so I can carry the sight of them in my heart.”

“Alright. Do you need a handkerchief, first?”

“I thought perhaps I’d stop at a ’fresher on the way and splash some water on my face.”

“If you’re certain, Sabé.”

“Quite positive,” she insists, jerking her chin up to look up at him challengingly.

With a quiet sigh of regret for the pain she refuses to share with him (but then, if she’s going to agree to his request, then perhaps Sia-Lan will be able to help her, and it will help to cement their friendship), Obi-Wan acquiesces as gracefully as he can, telling her, “Very well, Sabé. Come this way, please.”

***

Dormé isn’t one of those quiet, detached, ladylike criers. She cries with her whole body, unabashedly and unrestrainedly. And if it weren’t for the mixture of absolute and obvious relief over Padmé’s decision and sheer raw fury over Sola’s part in Sidious’ scheme to use Padmé to help ensnare Anakin, Anakin would be absolutely, utterly miserable and close to the ragged edge of panic, for he has never been able to abide others’ tears, especially not those of women. He lets her cling to him for several long minutes, shaking and sobbing, trying to calm and reassure her by stroking her hair and murmuring a running litany of soothing nonsense along the lines of it being okay now. Finally, though, the curve of his back starts to feel awkward, where she’s got her arms thrown about his neck, and he gives in and simply picks her up entirely, carrying her over to a nearby sun-warmed stone bench and sitting down with her in his lap (and remembering, again, a memory of Obi-Wan’s about Padmé, for several long moments feels oddly disconnected from the entire scene, almost as if he weren’t really there at all). She curls in towards him and clings to him tightly, still sobbing, for another twenty or thirty minutes, before she finally raises her head up enough to cry out, “Her own sister? Damn that Sola! Saché and Yané have never really been the same, since the occupation, and we just outright lost Ahngé and Lexé and Tyché and Aimeé and Evé and Tillé and Cordé and Versé and Alashé and Essé and Gerté and Joané and Keiré and Cendé and Roakeé and Crué and Dané and Lilleé and Roaché and Sonné and Verité and Zoé and Force! I don’t even want to think of how many handmaidens we’ve lost to those blasted attempts the Trade Federation and their ilk made on Milady Padmé’s life, after regaining Naboo, and Sola was working with Sidious/, even after losing two of her children because of him? /Damn her! I don’t care if she’s worse than dead! It’s less than she deserved! Damn her!”

“I know, Dormé. Believe me, I know. I couldn’t believe he could be so bold as to try to turn someone that close to Padmé and with that much reason to hate him. And I couldn’t believe she’d be so stupid as to let him turn her. But she hated and resented her sister. I honestly don’t think it would have mattered who or what approached her, so long as she was promised a way to hurt Padmé. That’s all she seemed to care about,” Anakin helplessly tries to explain, even though he still can’t completely understand it himself.

“I need to – no, I have to – tell the others. Warn them. Anakin, if Milady Padmé’s own sister was working against her, there’s no telling who else Sidious or that witch may’ve turned against her, against you and Bendu Kenobi, against all of us!”

“Darth Sidious kept meticulous records, Dormé. He was a narcissistic megalomaniac who thought he would never be caught or stopped and truly believed that he would be able to establish a galaxy-wide Empire in his name, ordered and run by Dark Adepts and Acolytes trained to be utterly loyal to him and empowered only through his grace. He thought he could find a way to use the Force so that he’d be able to live and rule the galaxy for forever, and he honestly believed that no one and no thing would ever be able to stand against him or stop him. If there are others on Naboo who have been bought or turned or blackmailed into submission and collaboration, I promise you, they will be detailed in his records somewhere and we will find out and we will deal with them appropriately. I swear to you we will. But for now, please, just calm down, okay? This is a safe place. I promise. The rest of her family is alright. Padmé could see enough of what was going on that she could and she did vouch for them, and Obi-Wan and I did some careful double-checking, just to be sure. The Grand Masters promised, before we left for Utapau, that they’d see to it that searching through Sidious’ rooms and his various hidey-holes and finding and going through all of his records would be a priority. People like Mon Mothma and Bail knew about them and I’m quite sure that whoever’s in charge of the reforming government will agree to that priority. I’ve no doubt there’s already a team in place here on Naboo, searching through Palpatine’s properties. If you asked Keiana Apailana, I’m sure she’d tell you all about it. Things are being taken care of. I promise. Obi-Wan’s in the house now telling Sabé all about all of this, so she’ll be able to help you explain it to the others. It’ll be alright. Really, it will,” he promises, patting her shoulder awkwardly.

“I can’t just trust that it’ll be alright, Anakin. I /can’t/. It’s why I’m a handmaid. I can’t just leave things like this up to other people! I have to be able to be sure of some of it myself, or I’ll drive myself mad, worrying.”

“Yes, well, then you’ll like what Obi-Wan has in mind for you to do, without a doubt.”

“What?” Dormé raises her head to frown up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you know how Knight Sia-Lan has convinced Keiana to support that petition to make Dala City into a Jedi chapterhouse?”

“Yes . . . ?” she admits, trailing the word off to make the question implicit.

“Guess who Obi-Wan doesn’t want to go there, even though she has more than enough Force-sensitivity to justify the training, so that she’ll be free to take Padmé’s place in the Senate and to occasionally attend classes at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant?”

Frowning deeply, Dormé pushes further away from him, until she’s just barely perched on his knees. “Sabé?” she guesses after several long moments of thought.

“No, /ma’chara/. He has plans for Sabé and Sia-Lan and the chapterhouse.”

“But who else has enough experience to be Senator except . . . ? Oh. Oh! Oh, no! No, no, no! You must be mistaken. I’m not nearly qualified enough. He can’t possibly mean – ”

“I heard him tell the Grand Masters about how you were the right one to take over for her, myself,” Anakin cuts her off, smiling and glossing over the part where he’d actually overheard that part along their bond instead of hearing about it in person. “I think he’s waiting to spring the bit about the classes at the Temple until some of the other Jedi have had a bit longer to adjust to the idea that the New Jedi Bendu Order isn’t the old Order and won’t be operating the same way, but I can pretty much promise that he’s entirely serious about having you there, if you’ll agree.”

“But – but – but I – I – I’m not – I can’t possible be the most qualified! And the – the Temple? I’m not nearly that strong in the Force!”

“Actually, with the possible exception of some of Jamillia’s handmaidens, since I didn’t exactly meet them under the best of circumstances, and maybe a few of Keiana’s secondary and tertiary handmaids, since I’m not entirely sure that I’ve actually met all of them, I can honestly say that I’ve yet to meet a single handmaid – aside from Padmé and Ayesha Jamillia, when they were hiding in the ranks – who isn’t strong enough in the Force to qualify for the kind of training that the New Jedi Bendu Order is going to be offering. We’re going to be teaching people to work together, in groups by family or close friendship, instead of teaching people that they have to be mostly solitary. Melds or actual Battle Meditation can go a long way towards providing enough raw talent and power to handle considerable amounts of Force energy. Just because you might not have had enough raw talent according to the old Order to qualify for training, that doesn’t mean that the New Jedi Bendu Order won’t gladly welcome you,” Anakin corrects her, not bothering to hide his smile.

To his surprise, though, that little tidbit just makes Dormé leap to her feet, scrub her hands hastily across her face, and start pacing rapidly back and forth in front of him, muttering distractedly all the while. “You have to be mistaken. There must be someone else better suited for the Senate than I am. Eirtaé could – no, wait, she’d want to be here for Apailana, if anything goes wrong. Saché and Yané can’t be trusted to be reasonable about the Trade Federation and their cronies. Moteé and Ellé are too young and they don’t have the kind of experience they’d need to survive the Senate. Rabé wouldn’t want to give up her medical practice for the Senate. She’s been working around her practice for years already as it is, teaching Yané in her spare time to keep herself up to date on new advances and techniques and the knowledge all fresh in her mind. Jamillia’s been working so closely with the Refugee Relief Movement that I’m not sure she’d want to leave it, even if the Queen asked her. Jamillia’s handmaids . . . well, they haven’t had a very high survival rate. I think only one’s still alive. Monisha Kynaran. She just had her third child. I can’t see her agreeing to reenter the realm of politics now. Hmm. Who else . . . ? There’s got to be somebody else! Maybe a Princess of Theed? No, wait, Ellie’s health is way too fragile for that and Keiana replaced Jamillia at Queen. Kylantha – no. She’s just too young. Even Ellé would do a better job than she would. But they’re the only recent ones who’d be available who’re still alive. So who does that leave? There must be someone! Anakin!” she half snarls and half cries, whirling around to point an accusatory finger in Anakin’s direction. “Blast it! I’m not cut out for this kind of thing! Can you see me as a Senator?”

“Easily. You’d be as magnificent as Padmé, as persuasive as Sabé, and as fiery as, well, /you/. The Senate would be lucky to have you, Dormé!” Anakin immediately, firmly insists.

“But Jar Jar – ”

“Jar Jar has probably spent at least seven out of the last thirteen years stuck on Coruscant, /ma’chara/. The last time I spoke to him, he was missing Naboo and his family a great deal. You can’t ask him to assume the mantle of the senior Senator for this sector. Gungans usually don’t live quite as long as humans tend to, as I’m sure you know, and he was already thinking about retiring from the junior-most position and returning to Naboo for good when the war broke out,” Anakin quickly points out, letting his expression harden slightly to show his seriousness.

Dormé groans wholeheartedly, at that. and lets her face fall forward into her hands. Voice muffled somewhat by her heels of her hands, she half complains and half accuses, “You’re really not helping me any, here, Anakin!”

“Oh, but I am helping you, Dormé. I’m helping you to see the best path forward from here for you. I have no doubt whatsoever that you’ll make an exceptional Senator. And I for one can’t wait to see how Yoda will react to you.”

“Anakin!”

“What? If anyone can help bring him around to the point where he’ll be just as eager as we are about seeing to it that the old rules and ways of thinking won’t be perpetuated in the New Jedi Bendu Order, it’ll be you, /ma’chara/.”

“Flatterer!” Dormé only grumbles, clearly not convinced.

“Look, if you’re not sure, you can always go and ask Obi-Wan and Sabé about it, and see what they think,” Anakin merely replies with a bit of a shrug, being very careful to keep his voice as calm and casually nonchalant as he can and to keep the grin of victory that wants to make him smile widely at her off of his face.

“No. No, I believe you. I just can’t believe you and Bendu Kenobi are serious about this, is all! Are you sure Sola didn’t do anything to you?”

“Dormé – ” Anakin begins warningly, brows lowering to a stern frown.

“All right, already! I get the point! You’re serious. You’re crazy, but you’re serious. I’ll do it. If Sabé doesn’t ask for the position and Jar Jar doesn’t want it, I’ll take it. But I still think you’re both insane!” she snaps, throwing her hands up in the air. Then, eyes widening in horror, she gasps, “Great stars! Handmaids! I’ll need handmaids of my own. And a body-double. Oh, /Force/! I have to talk to the others. This is going to take some doing. Anakin – ”

“Go ahead, /ma’chara/,” he waves her along, not bothering to hide his smile or his laugh, this time. “I think I’ll go and collect Obi-Wan, myself. I’ll be along, presently.”

“Thank you!” she breathes, rushing up to him and dropping an off-center kiss on his up-turned forehead. Then, gathering up the skirts of her gown, she turns back towards the house and unselfconsciously begins to run, calling out behind her, “I’ll tell the others where you’ve gone, if anyone asks!”

“Thanks, Dormé!” he calls after her. Then, shaking his head and smiling, he regains his feet and starts off back towards the house, ambling along at a much more sedate pace.

***


“They’re so beautiful,” Sabé whispers, gazing raptly down at the twins sleeping snugly in their cradle, her voice as hushed and reverent as a religious worshiper in a cathedral dedicated to her deity might be. “You and Anakin are so very lucky, Obi-Wan.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan agrees, his voice just as quiet, the hand he places on her shoulder speaking to her far more eloquently both of his agreement and his support for her. “Sabé. If you need to speak to someone about something – anything at all – you know that I am always here for you. Don’t you?”

“I know,” she whispers, leaning her head to the side so that her right cheek rests, for a few moments, against the back of his hand. “But it’s nothing you can fix, /cariodal/.”

“/Alanna/ – ” he begins to try to protest, but she promptly, if quietly, cuts him off.

“No, Obi-Wan. It’s alright. Really. I’ll do as you’ve asked,” she firmly declares.

He can’t help but blink a bit at the quick turnaround. “Excuse me?” he asks, just to make completely sure that he’s hearing her correctly.

“I’ll join the new chapterhouse at Dala City and I’ll run for the position when Keiana announces that she won’t be seeking a second term as Queen,” Sabé whispers back, her gaze still locked intently on the forms of the sleeping babies.

“That easily?” Obi-Wan asks, feeling his right eyebrow shooting up towards his hairline.

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Sabé.”

“Thank me when I’ve managed to get myself elected, not beforehand. And don’t you dare forget to keep in touch with me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I’ll hunt you down myself, if you think this means that I won’t be expecting at least one decent-sized missive a month.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, /cariodal/,” he promises, smiling down at her even though she’s still not looking up at him.

“Good. I’m going to go call a meeting for all of Milady Padmé’s former handmaidens, now. There’s going to be a lot for us to do, if we’re going to be sending Dormé off to the Senate with handmaids of her own while the rest of us prepare to enter the Jedi Bendu chapterhouse.”

“I won’t keep you, /cariodal/.”

“Be sure to tell Anakin how lucky he is to have two such beautiful babies.”

“You just told him yourself.” Anakin’s voice, coming from the doorway, finally manages to get Sabé to look up from the cradle.

She just smiles at him, though, before turning back to the twins for another handful of seconds. “You are blessed by these children, Master Skywalker.”

“I know it, Lady Sabé.”

“Good.” Nodding once, firmly, she steps closer to the cradle and, after kissing her fingers, gently brushes her fingertips across first Leia’s and (after a second brushing of fingertips to lips) and then Luke’s foreheads. Then, stepping back and spinning rapidly on her heel, she leans in to press a farewell kiss to Obi-Wan’s right cheek before striding rapidly over to the doorway, where she goes a-tiptoe to brush a kiss of both greeting and farewell on Anakin’s left cheek, before bypassing him and heading out the door at a brisk clip.

Shutting the door behind her, Anakin ambles over to Obi-Wan, joining him at the crib-side and slinging his right arm around his waist. “Problems?” he asks, his voice nearly inaudibly quiet, as he gazes lovingly down at their children.

Obi-Wan shrugs. “The usual. Loneliness and sorrow, in the wake of losing someone very dear to her, in combination with increasing societal pressure to settle down and start a family of her own. This should be good for her. It feels like a challenge to her, and it will give her focus.”

“Good. Glad to hear she took it relatively well. I thought Dormé was going to slap me, for a moment, for even suggesting that she might make a good Senator.”

“Ah, yes, the good Lady Tammesin. She should hit the Senate like a breath of fresh air. Before they know what she’s about, they’ll already be in the midst of the whirlwind,” Obi-Wan notes, his quiet voice nevertheless unabashedly smug, his smile both deep and wide.

“Essentially,” Anakin agrees, his own smile slipping towards a devilish grin. “And I don’t think the Senate has done enough to deserve a warning. Do you?”

“Not in the slightest. Besides,” Obi-Wan adds, turning to give him a sly little half smile and a wink, “Mon Mothma knows the lady quite well. If there’s anyone in the Senate who deserves a warning, I’m sure the good junior Consul will pass the word along.”

Grinning unabashedly, Anakin agrees, “There is that.” Several long moments later, he stirs enough to note, “The other former handmaids have probably be called into an emergency meeting by now. Shall we go down, and make sure that the others know we agree with whatever arrangements they’ve already come to?”

“Let’s,” Obi-Wan agrees easily.

After pressing butterfly-light kisses of their own against the temples of the sleeping twins, the two men turn around and head for the door, leaving behind an uncharacteristically quiet and content Threepio (who, miracle upon miracles, managed to stay silent essentially the entire time – aside from some rather muted greetings – both Obi-Wan and Sabé and then Obi-Wan and Anakin were in the room, waiting patiently out in the hall during most of the visit) and a softly beeping and attentive Artoo, who immediately move to take up position by the crib, to make sure that the twins can continue to take their shared nap in peace and that someone will be on hand to see to them when they finally wake again.

***

Their Padawan finds them as they’re heading for the stairs, exclaiming, “Ah! There you are, Masters. Lady Tammesin and Lady Dahn joined us in some haste, only to collect the other former handmaidens, give their apologies, and withdraw to another room for what they termed an emergency meeting of state. When your return didn’t follow their retreat, the Naberries began to wonder where you might have gotten yourselves to.”

“We stopped to visit with the twins a while,” Anakin explains with a smile and a shrug.

“Ah. And how are the little ones?” Bail asks, expression softening at the mention of the twins (with whom he had instantly seemed to fall in love, upon meeting).

“They seem fine. Still sleeping – or sleeping again, I suppose. They really are newborns, though, so that’s only to be expected, from what I understand,” Anakin replies, his own smile softening at the memory of the two slumbering infants.

“Good.” Bail stands quietly, a few paces from the stairwell, lost in thought, before seeming to recall where he is. Giving himself a small shake, he tilts his head questioningly to the side and asks, in a deceptively casual tone, “So may I ask what has milady Padmé’s former handmaids so preoccupied, or is it something that I don’t need to know? Dormé Tammesin seemed quite agitated, when she came into the room.”

“No need to fish for information, Padawan. It’s not a state secret. In truth, it’s mostly a matter of local politics, though it does touch on the New Jedi Bendu Order, given that it involves the proposed chapterhouse in Dala City,” Obi-Wan explains, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth upwards. “The simple fact of the matter is that the much higher than average tendency of established Nabooian families to consistently produce higher than average levels of Force-sensitivity presents something of an opportunity and also something of a challenge, here. In the next handful or so of years, a good-sized section of the human population of Naboo will likely be joining the Dala chapterhouse, including Keiana Apailana and most of the current generation of what would traditionally be considered the most suitable potential candidates for most of the human-held political positions of Naboo. Nabooians need to have their attachment to youth and purity leavened with a strong shot of appreciation for experience and proven ability, and the New Jedi Bendu Order intends to see to it that the Jedi Bendu who will come to populate the galaxy are active in all walks of life, including the realm of politics. Padmé’s former handmaidens are key to achieving both things in a manner that will seem natural, inevitable, and even welcome to both the human and Gungan population of the planet.”

“In other words, I got to explain to Dormé that she’d be the best person for the next senior Senator for Naboo and the Chommell Sector and that she should ask to be allowed to take classes at the Temple on Coruscant, and Obi-Wan got to break it to Sabé that she and most of the other former handmaidens should apply for intensive training at the chapterhouse in Dala City for most of the next two years, but that Sabé would need to make arrangements to bring a teacher with her out of the enclave after that, because she should be Naboo’s next Queen,” Anakin elaborates, not bothering to hide the small but extremely satisfied smirk spreading across his face. “Dormé’s a bit anxious about being able to find suitable handmaids and a body-double for herself, so she’ll be able to accept an appointment as interim Senator, so Jar Jar will be able to retire like he’d like to at the end of his term.”

“Jedi playing politics,” Bail declares, a slight note of incredulity creeping into his voice, as he shakes his head. “Even though I know it’s something we need to do, I still have a hard time believing it. Was I wrong to assume that I would need to abdicate Alderaan’s throne?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even hesitate before replying, “No, Padawan. Your talent in the Force is strong enough that you need more extensive training than someone like Dormé or Sabé or even Keiana. And we need to have you with us more than Alderaan needs to keep you as its Crown Prince and senior Senator. You were running yourself ragged trying to fulfill both of those roles as it was, Bail. There’s no way we could responsibly ask you to attempt to continue to satisfy the duties attached to both of those positions and to shoulder the burden of Jedi Bendu training as well. It would simply be impossible to find enough time to adequately meet the needs of all three roles. Besides, Alderaan is both more and less high profile than Naboo is right now. While your planet may initially attract less attention than the homeworld of the former Supreme Chancellor and last true Sith Master, the truth of the matter is that Alderaan has always been a crown jewel of the Republic. Eventually, inevitably, attention will turn towards your world, and not all of that attention will initially be well-disposed towards either the Jedi Bendu or to the notion that there can and should be Jedi Bendu who are also politicians. Perhaps a third of the sentient population of Naboo is strong enough in the Force to warrant the kind of training that the New Jedi Bendu Order will be offering. Over three-fourths – quite possibly even as much as seven-eights – of the long-term resident sentient population of Alderaan could easily qualify for that same training. Since Alderaan, already has an established Jedi enclave, though, the process of seeing to it that this training becomes available to everyone qualified for it is going to follow a slightly different path than on Naboo, which will be receiving a brand new, highly publicized chapterhouse in the form of a fully functional city deliberately designed to be wholly integrated with a local, nonJedi population. While Alderaan appears to be continuing to function much as it always has, Naboo is going to be the home of one of the galaxy’s most highly publicized trial runs for a fully integrated system. Alderaan’s apparent hold with tradition will reassure and help to calm those who might otherwise panic at the sheer amount of change represented by the New Jedi Bendu Order. More importantly, while you pursue a life as a Jedi Bendu Padawan that is quite publicly separate from your previous life, as senior Senator and Crown Prince of Alderaan, and the numbers of residents on-hand in the Alderaanian chapterhouse seems to hold with numbers present prior to the war, I fully expect for the people of Alderaan to quietly, without widespread announcement or fanfare, introduce essentially all of the elements of Jedi Bendu training into their regular school systems, with former members of the enclave easing themselves into the general population as teachers, tutors, and athletic instructors. The rest of the galaxy will be so busy focusing on Naboo and Dala City and on the fact that Alderaan’s Crown Prince abdicated the throne in order to pursue his Padawan training that they just won’t notice that Alderaan is remaking itself into what amounts to a whole world of functional Jedi Bendu until enough of the population has already undergone enough training to begin a diaspora. It will take at least half a dozen years for those students to be ready to become teachers in their own rights, but a great deal of the population of Alderaan shares some of the same advantages over other possible recruits that Sabé and Padmé’s other former handmaidens possess. Extensive and often highly specialized educations are the norm, on Alderaan, and the vast majority of the population shares a tendency towards open-mindedness, a philosophy of balance and harmony with nature, teaching, and both creating and sharing art and beauty. Most Alderaanians already have a wide-ranging and deep understanding of such things as galactic politics, the art of diplomacy, various different schools of ethics, galactic history and culture, and so on. Many of them also work in fields of education, engineering or science, art or cultural studies, and even branches of both local and galactic politics or the legal system. They already possess sufficient practical experience and information in either two or three out of five of the basic areas that the Jedi Bendu will focus on, in training, and their basic philosophy of life is quite close to what the New Jedi Bendu Order will be teaching its members about how to live in harmony with the Force. All they need is training is personal defense, combat, and strategy, and actual instruction in using the Force. Only the first is going to pose much of a problem, and I believe I may know a way around it.”

“Blade-dancing?” Anakin asks, raising a considering eyebrow.

“It is a very old and very traditional Alderaanian activity. They even already have a system of licensed tournaments associated with the sport,” Obi-Wan agrees, smiling contentedly.

“Good idea. I always said the Order borrowed most of the elements of Makashi, Ataru, and Jar’Kai – even though technically it never approved of using dual lighsabers – from older sword-based traditions, like Alderaanian blade-dancing,” Anakin notes in obvious satisfaction, his smile huge. His smile slips away into something like a frown, though, as he asks, “I don’t suppose there’s any chance that Teräs Käsi or some other form of martial art or defense-inspired calisthenic athletic discipline is at all popular on Alderaan, is there?”

“There is a sort of counterpart to Teräs Käsi that’s recently become quite popular among both the younger generations and those who have grown old enough that more rigorous kinds of athletics are simply no longer practical as sources of exercise. They call it Joustavia Käsi or Joustavia Keho, from what I understand. The emphasis is on flexibility and grace, rather than prowess in combat,” Bail replies, rubbing absently at his chin, a small, thoughtful frown creasing his forehead. “I’ve seen set sequences of Joustavia Keho performed, and it resembles something like an acrobatic dance crossed with a gymnastics routine. It has a great deal of flow to it. I’m no expert, of course, but I’ve always assumed that the sudden upsurge in interest in this particular variant of martial art was, at least in part, due to the wide-spread fascination much of the galaxy, including Alderaan, has with the hybridized katas and modified forms of lightsaber combat that the two of you are famous for.”

Beaming, Anakin exclaims, “Better and better! How widespread would you say that interest is? In Joustavia Keho or Joustavia Käsi, I mean. Not us,” he hastily adds, clarifying the question. “Are there a lot of instructional schools for it?”

“I would assume so,” Bail replies with a small, circular hand gesture roughly equivalent to a shrug. When Anakin only frowns thoughtfully in reply, though, Bail hastens to elaborate on his response by explaining, “The last census showed that there were nearly two-thirds as many licensed teachers of Joustavia Keho or Joustavia Käsi on Alderaan as there are blade-dancers. Of course, the numbers are a bit deceptive, in that not all professional-grade blade-dancers actually bother to obtain the license that would allow them to teach the skill professionally. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s more likely that there’s about half as many professional-grade Joustavia Käsi or Joustavia Keho teachers as there are blade-dancers. It’s gotten extremely popular in the past half a dozen or so years. The vast majority of Alderaanian youth and young men and women in their twenties and thirties either practice it or at least have a working knowledge of it, and many Alderaanians in or approaching their second century of life practice a slightly more stylized and limited version of it. It’s all of us who fall in between those two extremes who aren’t all that familiar with the practice.”

“People age, though – some faster than others, depending on when and how they decide to undergo all of those supposedly routine medical procedures our health-care professionals have developed to ensure that humans and most near-humans can reach their full allotment of two centuries, as long as they don’t ruin their health somehow or get themselves killed first. And interests do tend to change some as people mature. Plus, older siblings and cousins and especially parents usually are pretty darn interested in what the younglings are up to,” Anakin muses, eyes narrowing. “And the younger siblings and children of more venerable relatives can sometimes be pestered in to giving something new a try. Given how widespread both practices are, it shouldn’t be too hard to combine the two schools and see to it that the practice of both of these variations of Teräs Käsi and blade-dancing become so widespread that everybody has a working knowledge of them, would it? And it shouldn’t seem all that suspicious to outsiders, either, since blade-dancing is a time-honored Alderaanian tradition and Joustavia Käsi and Joustavia Keho have been extremely and increasingly popular all over Alderaan for – what did you say? Six years?”

“Just over six years, that I know of. I’m afraid I didn’t take any notice of it, previous to that time. Logically, though, it likely had a small, if largely underground, dedicated following for several years prior to its rapid growth in popularity, or else there wouldn’t have been enough licensed teachers to go around,” Bail replies.

In response, Anakin’s grin returns with a vengeance. “Bingo! There’s us a way to teach them everything they need to know about personal defense and combat, without anyone ever actually having to pick up a lightsaber. Somebody who understands strategy will have to explain how knowledge of things like combat in different terrains can be used as a basis for planning larger-scale confrontations. Otherwise, they’ll be set. The teachers can be taught how to modify some of their sequences so that they’ll work as lightsaber katas, and the blade-dancers can learn to avoid touching any part of their blades but the handles. Students and teachers both can adjust for the weight differential in the weapons by starting out with heavy training blades and working their way up not to durasteel but some kind of lightweight alloy, since lightsabers are so lightweight. If anyone asks, the new ultra-light alloy blades can be a safety precaution.”

Obi-Wan tilts his head to the side in consideration, absent-mindedly reaching up to rub at a beard he no longer has and, at the last moment, altering the trajectory of his hand so that he can tap his mouth thoughtfully with his index finger. After a few moments, he lowers his hand, nods definitively, and, smiling at Anakin, declares, “I agree, Anakin. I believe this will work quite well, for Alderaan. Perhaps even for Chandrila, if we can enlist Mon Mothma’s aide.”

“I can plead your case to Mon, if you’d like, Bendu,” Bail immediately offers. “She and I spent some time on the journey to Naboo discussing just this problem – the issue of integrating Jedi Bendu into the lives of ordinary citizens of the galaxy, I mean – and she was quite keen on the notion of making the Jedi Bendu part and parcel of the people.”

“We would appreciate that, Bail. We expect your family to be instrumental in seeing to it that our plans for Alderaan will be set into motion and carefully followed through on. It’s not an unreasonable expectation, is it?” Obi-Wan only asks in return, a slight crease of worry forming in the center of his forehead.

“Not at all, Master,” Bail immediately insists, firmly enough and with enough passion in his voice that Anakin’s eyebrows twitch a little in surprise. “The Organas all know their duty, as do the Antilles, and so do the Retracs, the Metonaes, and all of the other distaff branches of the two main families. Alderaan has been preparing for the worst, as it is. Keeping the extremists and the gossip-mongers from noticing what we’re up to when there’s going to be so much change and growth and prosperity in the galaxy will surely be much easier that hiding a military buildup and formation of alliances against a dictatorial Empire would’ve been. Are there other planets where a high percentage of the population tends to be Force-sensitive? If you like, I could check against the lists of allies and potential allies Mon and I were compiling, in the event of a worse-case scenario. We never suspected Palpatine might be Sidious or that he could be as bold as he was, but there are those we know who have enough influence on their worlds that they may be able to do something at least like what Naboo is, with Dala City.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin trade considering looks at that. Time? Anakin asks along the bond.

Probably not. The Naberries and Keiana are waiting for us.

Later, then. We definitely don’t want to lose track of this idea. It’s a good plan. We need to gather as many allies as quickly as we can, after all, right?

Indubitably. The more of us there are, the more of us are likely to survive. The storm of storms is still coming, so far as I know.

I know it is. It’s why I’m glad to have such a clever Padawan to help us, Anakin replies, flashing Obi-Wan a lopsidedly, wry little grin. Then, turning to Bail, he replies to the offer of help, telling him, “Ask us again, either after the planning is done or the funeral itself is over with, whichever one happens to give us at least three or four hours when we can sit down and talk this out properly, alright? It’s a good idea, Padawan, but our hosts are waiting for us. We don’t want them to worry. But don’t let us forget about it your idea either, okay?”

“I won’t, Master Skywalker,” Bail promises, voice and face both gravely serious, inclining his head in a nod that is almost deep enough for a bow.

“Good. Come on, then. Let’s head on down, before they send a search party out after the search party and us as well,” Anakin smiles good naturedly, slinging one arm back around Obi-Wan’s waist and gesturing to Bail to precede them to the stairs with his other hand. How many delegates was it who signed that petition, in the other timelines?

Two thousand.

Force! I was afraid you’d say that . . .

Heaving a long-suffering (if mostly silent) sigh, Anakin hugs Obi-Wan a bit closer to him for comfort and quietly, resignedly, follows their Padawan back down the steps.


***