Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews, they are greatly appreciated. In this part we see Obi-Wan inform his apprentice of the Council's decision, Anakin's reaction to that, then there is a celebration on Pais, in which Obi-Wan and Padme enjoy a special moment. The title of this chapter is taken from Johnny Mathis song 'A Time For Us' which featured in a Romeo & Juliet adaption - not my favourite admittedly, but this song has come to be counted as romantic by me because of my favourite couple from Strictly Come Dancing - Alesha Dixon & Matthew Cutler - dance to it, capturing my undying admiration and inspiration. It is not a signal that Obidala is doomed however, because I firmly believe in happy endings, for them at least.
Additionally, when I wrote this chapter, I had no idea that in the Clone Wars Padme wears a purple dress which fits what I had in my mind. There is a picture on her Wookieepedia page, which is how I found out, for anyone who like me does not watch the Clone Wars. Enjoy.
Part 21: A Time For Us.
"Delegates," their Paisian host greeted them with that next morning as they assembled at the conference table, the epithet designed to assign none of those present a superiority over another. "Yesterday we sat here and drafted a significant document. Today I ask you all to declare your allegiance by signature to uphold the wisdom of that treaty agreed by everyone here within this room."
There was a lengthy pause as the Senators, Jedi and members of the Separatist Confederacy read through the pads before them. One final check that everything needed to be covered by the treaty was couched within the words suitably and understandably, before committing themselves to the peace with a retinal scan. That the treaty would be ratified not just through the Senate but every planet involved was merely a formality, but the delegates were required to make sure there were little, if indeed any grounds for dispute.
Obi-Wan pushed aside his trepidation concerning his future conversation with Anakin in order to give the document before him the full attention which it deserved. After the bloodshed of Geonosis it was important that this peace treaty was upheld. The onus to keep the peace would not just be on the Jedi, but each of the delegates present. And, inevitability, if it failed, to them would the responsibility and guilt fall.
Just as it was with the conversation last night, there was nothing within the peace treaty to provide any comfort or reassurance. Words mattered little when there was an ideology at stake, as he had learned, not just to his cost, but that of the Republic. Nevertheless, he could see nothing wrong within the treaty before him. Raising the pad to his face, he allowed the device to record his retina on the document. An acknowledgement of which would be dispatched to the master treaty which their Paisian host currently held.
Padmé read through the words before her, conscious of the implications this treaty held not just for those present, but for the Republic, Confederacy and the Order as a whole. If any part of this treaty was declared unacceptable by any of the governments involved, everyone here would be to blame for not allowing for such a possibility. Unlike the Military Creation Act, none of them could afford for this treaty to be bungled. Doubtless there would be those who felt obliged to uphold the peace, just as she had felt when she learned on Geonosis that her representative had signed the very act she had risked her life to oppose.
Not that she blamed Jar Jar for his actions. If the MCA had not been rushed through the Senate, the Chancellor not granted executive powers to enable it, she and many of the Jedi on Geonosis would have been killed, or made prisoners of war. Count Dooku would never have listened to his conscience, and this peace treaty would never have existed. As distasteful as peace might have become to some beings, this was the happier alternative for everyone concerned. Reaching the end of treaty, she raised the pad to her eyes, allowing the device to record her allegiance.
Bail Organa kept one eye discreetly focused on the other delegates, watching as each one of them read through the peace treaty, some beings occasionally turning to their aides for consult when a word or term failed to be understood. Determined to have a fair gathering of all sides to negotiate this treaty, not everyone here could claim a fluency in language or diplomacy. This was a vitally important document, none of the beings responsible for its drafting and ratifying it could afford to remain ignorant regarding any of the clauses.
That they had succeeded in crafting this peace treaty was incredible. When they first came here, the bloodshed of Geonosis still fresh upon every being's mind, it had been doubtful that such a peace would be accorded. Nor in such a civilised manner by a number of his colleagues whom back in the Senate he could never count on for support in getting certain bills ratified into law. Granted there were a number of reasonable, like-minded fellow Senators present; Padmé Amidala, Mon Mothma, Garm Bel Iblis and Finis Valorum to name a few. There were some here whom he may not know to count as friends but know he could count on their support as well. However, the sizeable number of delegates whom previously he could not call upon for support could have made things extremely difficult, even perhaps sabotaging the treaty altogether.
But no one had. And whilst previously a good outcome such as this might have troubled him as auspicious, the point was that shortly this peace treaty would be ratified. No more would the Republic be troubled by the need for an army or any other potentially warmongering policy. At least not until this event was a moment in history, and he was not a man who borrowed trouble for the future. On the contrary he did everything to ensure that the future would take place. Raising his pad to his face, he let the device record his retinal agreement to the terms of the treaty, then sat back and waited for the rest of the delegates to finish ratifying it.
When the required number of scans - in other words all - were recorded in the master treaty which their host was holding, the Paisian rose from their seat to address those present once more.
"Delegates, you just have witnessed the treaty I hold," the Paisian uttered. "Note that this is a momentous day in the history of your governments. In one standard hour, a formal ratification of this peace treaty will be recorded by esteemed members of the HoloNet Broadcast Association. In the evening, this establishment will be hosting a reception to celebrate the declaration of peace between the Republic and the Separatists. Until then, I wish you good day."
Obi-Wan retired to his room, where he set up the com to talk with his Padawan. Already his mind was preparing himself for the conversation as though it were akin to aggressive negotiations. So much of his time with his Padawan was spent in negotiation and rarely did the debate go his way. Not without Anakin making his displeasure known, usually to all concerned. Keying in the access codes, first for Coruscant, then the Temple, then his quarters, he rehearsed his opening gambit and sent a prayer to the Force that his Padawan would take the news at face value and in a positive manner.
As usual the com device emitted a short series of beeps, designed to alert the person being hailed that there was a call waiting. Most messages allowed for only a certain number of times that the sequence would be repeated before asking the caller to leave a message. Usually Obi-Wan would have taken such an opportunity, even though it meant merely delaying whatever debate he might have with Anakin rather than avoiding it altogether. In this case however, the traditions of the trial demanded that he waited for Anakin to answer, so he bypassed the message locking cycle.
He never bothered to count the number of times that the sequence repeated itself before Anakin answered the call, as his Padawan never replied straight away. However, he was sure on this occasion that the bypass system was worn out by the time the blank screen cleared, revealing a bleary-eyed, stormy countenance within the visage of the Chosen One.
"Are you alright?" He asked, his previous strategy replaced by his concern for the boy.
"I'm fine," Anakin answered. "I just didn't sleep well. What's going on?"
Obi-Wan recognised the tone, and wisely refrained from inquiring further. Unless Anakin was willing to talk, he would not get an explanation any time soon. "The Council have requested your presence. They wish to give you details on your new assignment."
Immediately there appeared a certain spark in his Padawan's eyes. "A solo assignment?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan replied. "Otherwise known as your trials."
Rapidly the clouds cleared from Anakin's countenance. His apprentice suddenly appeared as eager as a youngling, untainted by the horrors of Zonama Sekot. The youngling Obi-Wan often missed.
"My trials!" Anakin cried. "Do you know what it is? Will I be done before you come back? Do I need to wait for your return?"
"No, I don't know what it is," Obi-Wan replied, "Padawan's Masters are never granted that privilege unless their apprentice chooses to tell them about the mission. No, you do not need to wait for my return, you must complete your trial without my advice or guiding hand. And as to whether you'll be done before I return, that depends on you, the nature of the trials, and the will of the Force."
"Of course," Anakin acknowledged. "I shall do my best not to disappoint you, master."
"You never have," Obi-Wan murmured. "I'll let you go and prepare. I have a press conference to attend."
His apprentice frowned. "A press conference? Not like the last one, is it? There hasn't been another explosion, has there?"
"No, we've crafted and signed the peace treaty," Obi-Wan replied, puzzled by Anakin's reaction to what had been a parting comment.
"Oh," his Padawan exhaled with something almost akin to relief. "I guess I'll see you upon my return then, Master. May the Force be with you."
"And with you, Anakin," Obi-Wan returned before signing off. For a moment he pondered the reaction his apprentice displayed. However, he could not think of anything that had been wrong with that briefing about the delegates determination to continue inspite of the bombing of their conference room.
Brushing the mystery aside, he disappeared into the refresher, preparing himself for the press conference.
On Coruscant, his apprentice practically leapt from his chair, all thoughts from the turmoil in which he had spent the night before forgotten. At last, he was to undergo the trials and become a knight. He had no doubt about his success. It was necessary, not just for himself, but for his wife. Once he was a knight he didn't have to worry about keeping his marriage a secret from the Order. He could shout it from the rooftops of the Temple if he felt so inclined.
Knowing the Council would not take well to his present appearance, Anakin took care to make himself into the dutiful Padawan of Master Kenobi before leaving the quarters he shared with his master. A thought crossed his mind as he headed down the corridor towards the grand lobby for the turbolifts which would take him to the council chamber. Would he be able to have his home outside the temple walls when he told them of his marriage to Padmé? He knew knights were allowed to have their own quarters, but he would feel uncomfortable living with his wife in the Temple. The Nubian Senatorial Residence was much nicer with its penthouse location and breathtaking views.
For the entire journey up to the council chamber he indulged himself in the luxury of imagining he was already knighted. Picturing his wife's reaction, that of the Chancellor's, his master and the rest of the Order. He recalled Obi-Wan's knighting ceremony, performed when they returned from Naboo. A mysterious occasion, cloaked in smoke and lightsabers, but one his master seemed touched by, as much as he understood his master back then.
Permitted to attend due to his status as the knight's new Padawan learner, He had witnessed Obi-Wan kneel before Master Yoda within a circle of drawn lightsabers, the mark of his Padawan achievements severed by the Grand Master's blade. One by one those present had congratulated him, before he made his way to Anakin's side. A marked contrast to what he had seen of Obi-Wan on Naboo, a silent constantly watching pupil, highly critical of the way his master had acquired Anakin, yet evidently talented in lightsaber combat. For the most part Qui-Gon had seemed to ignore him, yet Obi-Wan remained by his side.
He supposed Obi-Wan had given that same attention during his own training, as much as he had resented such protection at times. Yet he had been on his own for several days now, except when he had to spend sessions with a soul healer or Master Windu, and he found himself missing his master's presence. For all their disagreements, Obi-Wan had been a constant in his life, a shield against an unpredictable, sometimes horrifying universe. Against a Council determined to see the dark side in him.
The turbolift came to halt, causing Anakin to rapidly school his thoughts. It would not do to have such negative opinions within his mind when meeting the Council. They might just refuse to give him his trials and he could not have that. He was a Jedi knight, had been for years. It had just taken the Council awhile to acknowledge his rank.
As he walked down the small corridor which led to the grand entrance of the Council Chamber, he allowed himself to contemplate what sort of mission he would be given for his trials. Not an escort mission, or a duel with a Sith, unfortunately, he had already been through those trials, gaining a wife and losing an arm in the process. As much as he would have liked either of those challenges, the Council would probably choose something he had never experienced before. Although what that could be, he had no idea, he'd certainly experienced plenty compared to the average Padawan.
With that last thought he came to a halt before the grand entrance of the Council Chamber, the closed barrier managing to appear somewhat imposing to his much vaunted ego. Clearing his mind of the wayward scattered thoughts which currently littered his psyche, Anakin brushed himself down and pressed the admittance request control.
As the doors swished sideways, permitting him to enter, he took in the sight of every seat in the Council full, a rare and somewhat unsettling sight. He had thought some had joined the delegates from Pais, but clearly if they had, those had already returned, indicating that the parties were close to an agreement. Usually one or another were represented by blue holos as they toiled away on missions no other Jedi could be trusted with. To see them all present reminded him too much of his first introduction to them as a youngling slave boy recently freed. Suddenly Anakin felt his confidence plummet through the floor, his bravado replaced by a tingling fear that he was about to lose everything.
"Padawan Skywalker," Mace Windu began, leaning forward in his seat, his right as head of the Council to open proceedings. "I take it you received your master's message regarding our summons?"
Gone was the recent friendliness he had experienced during their training sessions in the form of Vaapad. Anakin gulped, feeling very much like a nervous youngling. "Yes, Master Windu. I came as soon as he informed me."
Yoda moved his gimer stick to rest under clasped hands below his chin and in a manner which was eerily reminiscent of that first meeting ten years ago, he murmured, "how feel you?"
Unlike that meeting however, Anakin knew that the Council would not take kindly to false courage. "Apprehensive of the fate which awaits me."
"Learned much you have," Yoda observed, leaning back into the confines of his chair, the gimer stick resting at an angle. "Remember your training, help you it will."
"Yes, Master," Anakin replied solemnly.
"A mission for you we have," Yoda revealed.
Anakin nodded, his dark blue eyes slowly taking the measure of every Council member, and then gathered himself, making sure that they knew he was ready to prove himself to all of them if he had to, as he waited for the details of his trials to be revealed.
Padmé surveyed the ball-gown Dormé had packed for her somewhat apprehensively. Ordinarily she would have no compunction attending the function this evening in such sumptuous attire, but on this occasion the gown revealed a little too much skin for her liking. She knew that custom required she danced and the thought of some guests who were bound to ask her, and whom she could not refuse, touching her skin, was unsettling to say the least. Not to mention the ones whom ordinarily she would have no problem dancing with.
Abandoning the dress for a moment she rummaged through the rest of her wardrobe to see if her handmaiden had packed anything more suitable. Due to the sudden nature of these negotiations Padmé had not had the time to assist Dormé in the packing. She had been too busy attending the Senate as the Senators and the Chancellor picked who to send to Pais. Added to that she had to select a representative to govern in her absence, then converse with Queen Jamillia and the government back on Naboo. Finally soothe a Gungan whose feelings were a little saddened by her decision not to have him as her representative this time. As much as she held affection for Jar Jar, Padmé dread to think what he might do if she left him to run her office again, however instrumental his last actions within that role of office had been regarding the blood shed on Geonosis.
Reluctantly she gave up the search for another gown as she reached the last garment in her wardrobe. Despite her misgivings she would have to wear the purple Nubian silk. Shredding her current garment she disappeared into the refresher, showering away all the hours of peace treaty signing and public briefings. A treaty declaration in front of the esteemed HoloNet press was never a fun gathering at the best of times, and this bunch had been particularly annoying. Half way through the questions she was beginning to wish their Paisian host had not allowed to be asked, all concern for the peace treaty had subsided in favour of scandal mongering. She wouldn't have been surprised if the group had been gathered from the society section.
Emerging from the refresher, she picked up the gown, noticing the extra layer attached to the hanger with much relief. Thankfully she slipped on the transparent skin shift that Dormé had thoughtfully included, which while it did nothing to hide her beauty certainly protected her flesh from unwanted attention. Then she unhooked the purple silk and carefully gathered the garment around her body. As she fastened the discreetly hidden clips Padmé moved to standing before the mirror, wordlessly surveying her reflection. Even with the skin coloured shift the silk clung to her. Anakin would throw a fit if he saw her wearing this to a Senate function, let alone this celebration. She was thankful no press had been permitted to cover the occasion.
There it was again, that irrational fear of her husband's temper, the one which appeared when he confessed to her the full horror of his bid to rescue his mother on Tatooine. Not just fear at what he had done, but fear concerning the nature of what he had done would do to him. Jedi or no, there were laws, moral laws against committing such atrocities. She'd been half tempted to tell his master, but there was no way she could burden Obi-Wan with this. He worried too much over Anakin as it was, and perhaps with good reason. However, that kernel of fear refused to go away, continuing instead to grow deep inside her.
And now it was daring to exercise a command over where she went, who she saw and what she wore. Padmé blinked at the regal woman staring back at her, knowing the reflection was only surface deep. Where was the girl who had donned a handmaiden's uniform, formed a previously impossible alliance and rescued her blockaded planet?
A spark flashed into her eyes as she recalled those somewhat innocent days, almost untainted by the dirty politicking she was more familiar with now. Reassuring herself that the girl was still there, underneath the finery and the fear, she fixed her hair into an artful stylish coil her handmaiden would have been proud of, then determinedly turned away from the mirror and walked out of the room.
More than a few fellow delegates turned to gaze at her as she headed down the corridor to the turbolifts. Senator Amidala was a beautiful woman and those who previously thought of her as only young and intelligent were now beginning to realise that third asset. She was a valuable colleague to have and those she passed began to see that the Senate was not the only place where they would be proud to have such a woman by their side.
The turbolift was already occupied, and when the door swished aside, the passenger gave out a long, low whistle of appreciation, followed by an elaborate bow, before reaching out to take her hand, bestowing upon the soft skin a devoted kiss. "Milady, you look stunning."
Padmé blushed, but inwardly the candle inside her which was that girl who had secured the peace and freedom of her world, acquired a strength to its flame. "Thank you, Garen," she added as entered the lift. "Will Master Kenobi be joining us?" She asked, knowing that the Jedi delegation were all on the same floor, between the area of the hotel occupied by the Separatists and the section by the Senators.
"Momentarily. He has been detained by the Council," Garen informed her. Privately he wondered what his friend would make of the Nubian Senator's ensemble. A smirk crossed his face. He'd give anything to be there when his friend caught sight of Senator Amidala. If anything could make Kenobi drop his mask and reveal the feelings for her, this dress could.
The turbolift resumed its journey down to the grand entertaining floor, which Pais had installed with magnificent reception rooms, featuring expansive views of the planet's glorious countryside. At night the view was lit by soft glowing torches, allowing for the divine exposure of the land under a starry sky.
A few dignitaries were already present when Padmé entered, Garen offering his arm to her in true courtly fashion. Some were engaging in dancing to the classical music an orchestra of Paisians were performing, but most were quartered off the sides and corners of the room, talking, or else out on the promenade decking, enjoying the views.
"Would you care to grace my hand with yours, milady?" Garen asked, and she nodded, allowing him to elegantly sweep her off on to the floor into the waltz.
Memories flooded into her mind of dancing lessons, and the celebrations after freeing her planet from the blockade; the various social occasions she had attended as Queen then Senator. Padmé had danced with Jedi before, as well as her fellow colleagues, and as always one could tell the difference between those who had trained privately, at the usual finishing schools, or the Temple. For her, the Jedi seemed to produce the superior dancing partner, a by-product of the lightsaber forms she supposed.
Garen was a superb dancer, as she quickly discovered, able to lead her through the steps of the most intricate waltz. Forgetting all outside influences she allowed herself to swept way in the beauty of the steps, the silent admiration of an attractive, intelligent man who flirted with her without fear of, or desire to let such a dalliance touch her heart, along with the occasional quip of conversation when the music and dance allowed.
Afterwards he escorted her off the floor into the corner of the room occupied by Senators Organa, Mon Mothma, Bel Iblis and, to her surprise, Count Dooku, who looked humbled to be considered welcome in such company.
"Senator Amidala," he remarked, bowing before her. "May I say what a pleasure it has been to converse with you in much more hospital circumstances. I hope you will allow this treaty as the foundation of a new and more favourable understanding between us."
Padmé nodded, she was not above a reconciliation of sorts, however much a part of her still found difficult to trust or like the man after what injuries he inflicted on Obi-Wan, Anakin and the Jedi. "Of course, Count."
"The Count was discussing with the us possibility of allowing delegates from the Separatists to stand in the Senate," Bel Iblis revealed.
She raised an eyebrow at that. "As part of continuing the foundations formed from the peace treaty?" she murmured thoughtfully.
"Exactly," Dooku replied. "Do you think the Chancellor would be amenable to such representation?"
Padmé stared at him considering. There was a slight smile on his face which suggested that he knew much more than he was willing to let on, and not just about the Chancellor. "Such a decision would be up to the members of the Senate," she replied, "but with the support of the delegation here, such a custom might be practised."
"Would you be one of the delegates, Count?" Garen asked.
"Yes," Dooku replied. "I am considering returning to Coruscant for a time. I would like to talk with the esteemed members of the Jedi Council, if they are willing to grant me such a privilege."
"I am not authorised to speak for them," Garen replied. "But I am sure I can find someone who is."
Padmé frowned at his reply. "I thought a few of the Council were here for the negotiations?"
"A few were, yes," Garen confirmed, "but they have since returned, as their services are required in the Core. A few Padawans are taking their trials, and all Council members are required to be present for the mission briefings. Master Kenobi's among them," he added, as the grand entrance foyer into the ballroom admitted the Jedi in question.
Some of the guests present turned to glance at the new arrival, taking in the sight of a Jedi Knight in dress uniform with a measured stare, all realising how attractive the knight in question was. Padmé felt her heart skip a beat as she cautioned herself to take a deep breath when his grey blue gaze met hers across the crowded room. If she had the power to slip behind his Jedi mask she would have been as discomposed of what he was thinking as he was by what she was wearing. He knew she was beautiful, but rarely had he seen her in anything which showed off that beauty. The gown clung to her curves, her long dark her hung in elegantly coiffure curls, restrained by sparkling jewels of the same shade as the silk which covered her skin. An image of him peeling away those silks and gemstones sprung to mind, causing his heart to hunger.
"Padawan Skywalker is to undergo his trials?" Count Dooku sought to confirm, unknowingly breaking the spell between the Chosen One's Master and the Nubian Senator. "I would have thought the darkness of Geonosis earned him his knighthood like that Sith duel did his master."
"The Council desired that he be given time to recover from the injuries he suffered on Geonosis. And Obi-Wan requested that Anakin be granted the traditional trials," Garen informed him, as his friend crossed the ballroom to join their group. "An honour he wished he had earned himself," he added quietly.
"As I heard, he had earned that honour well before the incident on Naboo," the Count of Serenno murmured quietly. "My old pupil was just reluctant to lose him so soon to the ranks of the Knights."
Padmé raised an eyebrow at that, then hurriedly schooled her features into unthinking serenity as Master Kenobi finally joined them.
"Senators, Count," he greeted in his rich Core accent. "Garen."
"Good evening, Obi-Wan," Garen returned. "Your talk with Anakin went well?"
"As well as I hoped," Obi-Wan replied. "He was brimming with enthusiasm." Privately he wondered how long that would last. Though the Council had not revealed the details of the mission to him - that was up to the whim of his apprentice - he did not think it would meet with Anakin's expectations.
"Master Kenobi, Count Dooku has just informed us that he was planning a sojourn on Coruscant," Bail Organa informed him.
"Is that so?" Obi-Wan murmured, turning to the Count.
Dooku nodded. "I had hope to spend a little time in the Senate and Temple, if the Council will permit me that honour."
"I shall speak with them about it," Obi-Wan replied.
Bail finished his drink, handing the glass to nearby waiter, then he held out his hand to the beautiful Nubian Senator. "Padmé, may I have this dance?"
Padmé placed her hand in his outstretched one and allowed herself to be swept out on to the dance floor once again.
Obi-Wan turned to watch her, unaware of the expression which flitted across his face as he did so. Fortunately Garen was the only one who caught sight of it. He too wished he could dance with the lady who held his heart, but Nineve had decided to remain in their room, believing it would be unwise for her to show her face down here, as amongst the delegates there were some beings who might recognise her.
"Dance with her," Garen whispered to his friend, referring to Padmé, concealing his grin as a fleeting expression of shock flitted through Obi-Wan's face.
The comment was beautifully timed, as the music finished before the orchestra prepared for the next piece. Bail escorted Padmé back to their cadre, practically right in front of the Coruscanti master.
Obi-Wan thought of Anakin back home, then found the beautiful Senator's brown eyed gaze, seeking out his own. With a elegant bow, he held out his hand. "Would you do me the honour, milady?"
Padmé found herself swept back to the moment he had held her in his arms after the explosion, then to their reunion when he and his padawan were assigned to protect her against the attempts made on her life, before she discovered what Anakin felt for her still. She placed her hand in his. "It is I who would be honoured, Master Kenobi."
No one but the Knight and the lady witnessed him bestowing a kiss upon that hand before moving it to rest against her heart in the required position of dance. As he swept her out on to the floor it was as if there was no one else in the universe but them. For as long as the music played they felt a wealth of limitless possibilities gracing their minds. A thousand temptations begging to be contemplated, even played out.
A series of possible futures mapped themselves out within their imaginations, enticing their hearts as their bodies moved as one in the steps of dance. Not even the Force was cautioning them, other than the occasional word to the wise. To be mindful of all which had passed to give them this time, this place. That divine being of energy had faith that they would endure every storm. What they needed now was a glance of what the future could bring, if they possessed a mind and desire to bring such an event about. One powerful enough to linger within their memory, long after the last note faded away.
To be continued...