There's been a lot of great speculation about languages in the Star Wars galaxy (and Qui-Gon maybe being a bit of a kook): here's my take!
In retrospect, Mace decided, it had mostly been Qui-Gon's fault. He was measured enough not to blame the master for the entire state of affairs; after all, it was not Qui-Gon but chance or the will of the Force that had brought young Leia to Jedha.
She was a small child when she appeared at the Kyber temple, complaining about the heat and pleading with the Guardians to go home. A concerned Guardian arranged for her to meet with a droid counselor, who tried to investigate where she had come from, but met with dead ends. She gave her name as Leia Organa, and it was a quick matter to confirm that it was an immensely common surname on Alderaan among nobles and distant cousins of the monarchy alike. But no one by the name of Leia was found in the fastidiously-noted genealogy of heirs, nor did her DNA test indicate close relatives there.
It did, however, raise alarms when the Jedi temple was made aware of her midi-chlorian count. Anyone in the Core Worlds of her age should have been tested in infancy, and the fact that she had escaped notice made the droid doubt that she was actually Alderaanian. A scammer from a lunar family? Yet the Guardians had said she was so simple, so overwhelmed at her sudden change in circumstances.
Mace would have been happy to let the matter rest, have her adopted by an Alderaanian family and move on with matters of state. But no, Qui-Gon had to point out how unusually high her midi-chlorians were, and what if this had something to all the prophecy lark he went on about. The Council decided it would be easier to accept her as a student than to deal with him haranguing them about the Force's destiny of balance, and that was settled straightaway.
So four years later when he found another Force savant, he was too emboldened to take no for an answer, and then all hell broke loose.
"Master Windu?" Leia asked. Her braid dangled over her shoulder. Like any Padawan, she kept it neatly braided, but her thin strands always seemed much more intricate than the other apprentices'. Part of Mace would not be surprised if he'd learned she was unconsciously calling upon the Force itself to keep it in place. "May I ask you a question?"
"Of course," he said. "You never need permission to seek after knowledge."
She gazed up at him shrewdly. Yes, they both knew that some knowledge could be dangerous. Yet building barriers to inquiry was a subtler and more powerful danger.
"Where were you born?"
He blinked. "On a small tidal moon called Aprinda, in the Fendlog Sector."
"Have you ever been there? Since you were born, I mean."
"Fendlog? Yes, to the planet Chemb. They have a very ritualized system of justice for civil matters. You ought to observe a trial sometime, it's quite extraordinary. If you can stay awake through all the processions, that is."
Leia glared. "But not to Aprinda?"
"No."
"You don't remember it? You don't know what it looks like?"
"No."
"Where is it?"
"Fendlog is usually reached by hyperspace jump from the Dantooine hub—"
"In the sky?"
It wasn't the strangest question Leia had asked, though trying to stargaze through the towers and lights of a Coruscanti evening seemed prodigious even for her. "That I don't know. You should look in the astrolab rooms to see if you can project—"
"That's fine," she said.
"Or the library, I'm sure Master Nu would be pleased to assist you."
"I'm fine," she said, pacing off.
Mace reached out in the Force to probe at her feelings, but detected nothing unusual. She could sulk on occasion when she was fed up with his decisions, but every Padawan went through growing pains. And then there was the faint aura that always seemed to circle her, like a web of the Force. Was it the key to where she had come from, or just a reflection of her innate strength?
Mace shook his head. He was starting to sound like Qui-Gon, and that simply would not do.
"Say something in Tatooinish," Leia said.
Anakin rolled his eyes. "First of all, it's not Tatooinish, it's Klarnik. Second, it's a stupid dialect."
"Master Volty says there's no such thing as a stupid dialect, just different cultures and traditions."
"Master Volty also used to say there was no such thing as the Sith, that was just a story some old Jedi made up to scare people."
Leia gaped. "Who told you that?"
"Obi-Wan. He said he took classes with Master Volty when he was a Padawan and they were always really boring."
"But of course the Sith exist," Leia said. "You saw them."
"Of course."
"You can remember things before the temple, before the Jedi. Don't you know how special that makes you?"
"Now you sound like Obi-Wan," said Anakin. "Who cares if I'm special? I still have to sit here and take classes instead of going outside and doing anything."
"Sorry," said Leia. "I just meant, your memories are important. Even the bad ones. Don't lose them."
Anakin gave a half-smile. It had been a relief for her to meet another Youngling who had known a life before the Temple, and she had taken him under her wing almost as soon as he arrived. In some ways she saw him as a little brother, even if they were nearly the same age—she didn't know when her birthday was. Now grown to Padawanhood, they were fast friends, each more adept at handling the other's occasional explosions of temper than their tranquil mentors.
"Yef frone," Anakin said. "That's a kind of wrench, something you can use to put things together. Droids or engines or..." He trailed off, scowling. Life on Tatooine had been bitter in many ways, and there were things Leia knew better than to ask about.
"Adret yef frone, memma shru nik." He mimed opening a hood and tinkering with the workings. "Beddo dhram..."
Leia had never met Senator Amidala, but the Nabooian politician's reputation preceded her. Anakin was much happier to tell tales of the woman he'd met years ago, disguised as a handmaiden, than slavery on Tatooine, and Leia savored them.
So when news of the assassination attempt on the Senator hit several holo-channels, Leia needed no encouragement to turn on the news. Amidala looked familiar, somehow—but everything the droids had told her pointed to Leia hailing from Alderaan, not Naboo. Surely it had to be a coincidence.
And with his old friend the talk of the Senate, Leia was sure nothing could take Anakin's mind off her. Nothing except—
"I had a dream last night."
"Yes," said Leia, "that often happens when you sleep."
He was unamused. "It was about my mother."
"That's good," Leia ventured. "It means you still think of her, still have some connection to your past."
"It was...troubling," he said. "I worry about her. I don't know what it means."
"Maybe you should go to her," said Leia. "You're almost a full Jedi now, and strong with the Force. You can set her free."
"I'm just one person. Not even Qui-Gon Jinn could stand against the Hutts."
"You're strong," said Leia. "Everyone says that. And so am I."
"What difference does that make?"
"I'll come with you, if you want."
"Don't put yourself in danger," said Anakin. "This isn't your fight."
"Sure it is. You're my best friend."
"Leia?" Master Windu called from down the hall. "The loyalist committee is here. Come and greet them."
"Of course," Leia said, scampering to the door.
"How are you going to come with me if you still bow and scrape at Master Windu's beck and call?" Anakin called after her.
She ignored him. No one was a more fervent defender of the Republic than Master Windu; if he thought she was ready to meet with the politicians as a representative of the Jedi, who was she to say no? He'd be kept busy by their delegating on Coruscant, and then maybe she and Anakin could borrow a ship. Maybe.
Leia followed Windu into a meeting room with vast windows overlooking the city. There was a tall Anx, speaking with Master Yoda in hushed tones. A Twi'lek lounged in a corner seat. And a male human was talking into a transponder, his back to the door.
"Maranda nouse," he said. "Issine kuy deleka."
She knew that voice, knew it, as if the Force itself had whispered words locked in her heart. "Smelthrin ey uclu, irie hesh," she blurted.
The senator turned and smiled. "Master Windu, an honor. And you must be my long-lost cousin, Padawan Organa."
She knew that face. Knew it, though it was impossible, it made Anakin's mother's face appearing in his visions after a decade apart seem the most plausible occurrence. "Naiko," she stammered. Father.
Windu regarded her with curiosity, Senator Organa with confusion, and Leia felt Anakin's impatience in the Force—something had shaken her to the depths of her soul, and he could not help but wonder what was going on. She had no answer, only the certainty that nothing in the galaxy would be the same again.