Dashira, Alderaan
1 BBY
It was about three the next afternoon when Eli heard a series of sharp little plinks against his window. He looked out. Mara stood there. She gave him a half smile, tossing a couple of pebbles from one hand to the other and looking up at him from under her currents of spice-colored hair.
He went around to the side door next to his room. For a wonder, the smokers and anarchists had abandoned their post for once, and they were alone.
"Hi," He said.
"Hi," She said. "I came to say I was sorry."
He had no training to prepare him for navigating this. "Oh."
He sat down on the stairs and she came and sat beside him, close enough that her force signature and body heat together lit up his right side like the glow from a fire.
"I...kind of understand," She said, then shrugged helplessly. "Okay, not really, but I do know what it's like to grow up with only one parent."
"Oh?"
"I never met my father. My mother changes the subject whenever I ask about him. I suppose you can't truly mourn something you never had, but..."
"I'm sorry," Eli said.
"I didn't tell you that to make you feel sorry."
They lapsed again into a tense silence. Mara blew out a frustrated breath. Eli jumped when she took his hand, her warm fingers squeezing his firmly. "I really am sorry for the sculpture. If I'd known you had a trauma like that I wouldn't have let you near it, but I should have asked. It won't happen again."
He allowed himself a smile, tracing the back of her hand with his thumb. "And how will you make it up to me?"
She grinned. "Always an angle, huh? I was wondering if you wanted to try out the Mon Calamari Ballet once more. With a sympathetic interpreter, this time."
He groaned. "So you intend to traumatize me again?"
Mara's eyes became large, round, and supplicating. Her face was so ridiculous that a genuine laugh bubbled out of him. He realized there was nothing he wanted more than to go to the dreaded Mon Calamari Ballet with her. Or anywhere.
"I'll meet you at eight," He chuckled.
The opera house was packed, even more crowded than the first time he'd visited. Errol strolled by with a date, and raised his chin in presumptuous greeting. Errol's date already looked bored, but with her escort or the venue, Eli couldn't tell. Everyone was dressed a bit more elegantly than the last time he'd been here, and Eli realized it was more formal than he'd expected.
Then he saw Mara, and his mouth went dry. She certainly wasn't the most ornately dressed person there, but he was used to her more casual uniform of simple tunics and trousers. Tonight she wore a sleeveless emerald-colored sheath of brocade, her toned bare arms peeking out from beneath a silvery wrap. Her hair looked very red against the green dress, and he couldn't help but notice the creaminess of her skin and the light dusting of golden freckles across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her shoulders. She met his gaze shyly.
Eli approached her carefully, feeling like he was tiptoeing around an incendiary device. "You look beautiful."
Her cheeks flooded with color, and she looked away with a smile playing on her lips. "Thank you."
"I think I've under dressed."
"You look perfect," she said, and took his hand to lead him inside.
It troubled him how comfortable it was becoming to have her do that. He caught sight of Errol across the room, who looked pointedly at their joined hands and raised a thumb appreciatively. Eli felt slightly nauseous.
This time his seat was much better, impressive actually. The box must have cost a fortune. It afforded a perfect view of the stage, and also a clear view of the lower galleries where people crossing to their seats could not help but pass. It was a good location for someone who went to the opera house not only for the art but also for the networking opportunities.
"It's the Organa family's," Mara whispered, rolling her eyes. "The price of using it is the supplicants."
Eli did not get a chance to ask what she meant. As soon as they were seated and had made themselves comfortable, a finely dressed dignitary with a struggling, thin mustache approached. "What a lovely couple you make!" He boomed.
"Thank you," Mara said coolly.
The dignitary looked a little flustered. "I am sorry to see the Princess is not joining us this evening."
"Yes, the Senator has a great deal to occupy her these days."
"Would you be so kind as to tell her that Flaj Baraheel sends his compliments?" He said.
"Of course. I hope you enjoy the evening, Mr. Baraheel," Mara said dismissively.
She rolled her eyes again as soon as the dignitary was out of ear shot. "A suitor," She said, her voice dripping with contempt.
Eli stifled a laugh. "Really? Brave man."
Mara nodded. "I will be really kind and not mention anything about it to Leia. There is nothing that delights her more than torturing young men after political marriages."
They had a string of other visitors of various ages and species, all inquiring about Leia and making elaborate speeches about their devotion to the Royal family. Eli payed close attention to the messages and intentions beyond their obsequious words and gestures. But there was no one of particular interest, only the same sycophants that hovered like flies around any ruling class. Then the towering silver water-filled membranes were revealed on the stage and the droning chorus filled the air of the opera house, hastening all stragglers to their seats.
Eli was prepared to cover up his contempt for Mara's benefit. How many times had his father forced him to attend these performances? His father didn't enjoy it out of any real appreciation, but as an opportunity to mock something he saw as a simulacrum of human dancing. Come to think of it, Eli had never seen his father openly and honestly admire anything.
Mara was quite different. The instant the Mon Calamari chorus began, her eyes slipped closed and her lips parted. She laid her hand over her heart. After a moment's confusion he realized he too could feel the deep vibrato of the chorus most strongly in that same spot. She was the picture of frank rapture, and he shook his head and turned to look, desperate to see what she saw. After a moment he had to admit that the movements of the dancers within the water membranes were graceful in their own unique way. The droning volume of the Mon Calamari chorus was powerful. The music felt as if it were a part of him, as if his whole body was a plucked guitar string. His heart beat faster.
And that was before Mara leaned close to him, her words tickling his ear. "They are pantomiming, you know. It's a folk tale from their world."
Gooseflesh covered his side nearest to her. He took a breath. It was difficult to tell what the squid-like dancers' expansive gestures might mean, but he found himself entranced.
"What is the story?" He whispered back, hyper aware of her hand on his arm. It was warm through his sleeve.
"It's a tragedy. The hero is a changeling, but the lady is not. He can take on any appearance, and so he appears to her as a member of her own species. But his true face is monstrous. He knows that if she sees his real face she will be repulsed."
The figures within the water membrane swam over and around each other, touching lightly and then breaking apart. One lifted the other, who stretched out gently curving webbed hands. It didn't matter that they weren't human. Their movements were undeniably sensual.
"He loves her, and he doesn't want to lie to her," Mara said softly.
One figure seemed to change, and the other broke from it, hurtling backwards as if struck, swirling and reaching and twisting in complicated acrobatic representations of agony. But by then, Eli wasn't watching the ballet anymore, or anything apart from Mara's searching eyes. She looked confused as she gazed at him. He thought it was because she could see how close he was to blurting out the truth, all of it. The words hovered just behind his lips. He swallowed hard, but knew he could not stop them. So he did the only thing he could think of.
He pressed his lips to hers.
It did the trick. His mind quickly emptied of everything else, because after one charged instant, she was kissing him back. He never learned the rest of the ballet's story or saw another second of the dancing. For a full half hour he kissed her, his hand cradling her jaw, her fingers playing along his neck and threading through his hair. He felt as if he'd never kissed anyone before, though it wasn't the case. This was different. Every small sound she made shot straight through him, robbing him of breath or thought. It felt as if there was a universe between them, in the music of their bodies and the circle of their arms. Nothing apart form the velvet whisper of her lips and the silk heat of her bare arms seemed to matter very much at all.
In the third act, they gave up on ballet altogether after several ushers had shined lights in their faces with irritated faces. They exited the box hand and hand, only just managing to stifle their giggles until they stumbled out a side door with swollen lips and dancing eyes, the chill kicking them in the chest and making them gasp and giggle all the more.
Mara turned, tentative hands creeping up over his shoulders. Her nose touched his. "Are you ready to end the night?"
"What did you have in mind?" He murmured against her lips.
"Just a party. There may be someone there who needs to meet you."
He nodded and allowed her to lead him along. The stars were diamonds. The freezing air seemed to kiss his cheeks as gently as she had. He'd never felt this way before. He shouldn't feel this way now, but any guilt he might have been capable of feeling seemed as remote as the cold glinting stars above. He was entirely intoxicated by the evening and his companion. Tomorrow's consequences were tomorrow's problems.
The party turned out to be at Niall's house. Niall opened the door, and welcomed Mara cheerfully enough. But then he frowned as he took in their flushed cheeks and reddened lips and spent the remainder of the evening withdrawn and sullen and sucking on a bottle of cheap Corellian whiskey in a corner. Dahlia and Ormond were in another corner. They barely surfaced long enough for a perfunctory greeting, and for the first time Eli understood their complete distraction. He eyed another corner, wondering how long propriety demanded before he could sneak Mara into it.
"You made it!" Vala said, bouncing up and grabbing a hug from Mara. She clapped Eli on the shoulder.
He smiled, pleased. Vala had never greeted him with anything other than true friendliness.
"Oh good, Eli!" Keo said, coming around to his other side. "I'm so glad you are here! There's this one thing on the Holonet I've been wanting to show you."
Eli gave a short laugh, and met Mara's eyes. They were knowing. It was almost as if she could tell how strange it was, for someone to say something like that to him; I'm so glad you are here. He should be noticing how many of the attendees were radicals. He could tell by their clothing which way their politics leaned. He knew he should be paying attention to who was talking to who and about what. But...he just didn't care. They were just kids. He was just a kid. This was just a school. He wasn't the only one watching, let the others carry the load for a night. When had he ever taken a few hours for his own devices in his entire life?
Someone pushed a cup of Corellian whiskey in his hands, and he drank deeply. It tasted vile, of course, but the warmth in the center of his chest expanded. Mara smiled at him and pulled him into the center of the room where a few people had begun to dance. She linked her arms around his neck. She was so warm, and she fit against him like a matched puzzle piece. He bent his head to taste her just one more time, and any lingering thoughts of who he was and his purpose on Alderaan burned away beneath the sweet pressure of her lips.
A huzzah went up and they broke apart, looking to see what had caused the commotion.
Leia was impossible to recognize at first, which was likely her intention. Her chocolate colored hair was loose around her shoulders and she wore a plain tunic, trousers, and scuffed leather boots, more like the street clothes of a co-ed than the trappings of a royal. Even still, there was a space around her as if everyone was just a little too respectful to get close. There was also something in her air, in her large dark eyes and military posture. If he was not mistaken, she was also still tailed by a fair bit of security also dressed in street clothes and attempting to blend in without much success.
Mara beamed. She immediately pulled away from Eli to run to Leia, throwing her arms around her neck. The security detail looked faintly nauseous at allowing the breech, but also appeared to know her well. Eli himself felt a bit startled. It was odd to see someone behave so casually and familiarly with a figure of state.
"I thought you would never get here," Mara said.
"I thought you would never come up for air," Leia said with a sardonic lift of an eyebrow.
Mara blushed a deep crimson and punched her lightly in the shoulder. The security detail appeared to restrain themselves with intense effort.
"This is Eli," Mara said, pulling Leia over to him.
"Your...grace," Eli stuttered, completely blanking on the appropriate honorific.
"Stop," Leia said firmly, taking his outstretched hand. Her handshake was firm enough to leave his fingers tingling. "It is just Leia here, though if you ever repeat it before my parents I will completely deny it. Delighted to make your acquaintance."
Eli barely heard her, because for the second time on Alderaan he felt a sensation like ice water pouring down his spine, his senses screaming a warning as soon as her hand contacted his.
Leia was force sensitive.
One novice force user within a community was rare enough. Two was unheard of. Two that were acquainted - that was an outright threat. There could be no doubt that Pestage did not know of it. If he had, there would be more than Eli and a handful of storm troopers on Alderaan. There would be a legion of troopers, and interrogators as well. Perhaps Vader himself. Was that why he was here? He'd assumed Mara was a fluke. But an enclave of force users...None of the other spies on Alderaan had the ability to sense them as he could. His duty was clear. He should leave this minute and report back. He should...
"...tells me you are from Chandrilla," Leia was saying.
Eli shook his head, disoriented by his swirling thoughts. Mara seemed to have stepped away to give them space to talk, but he had completely missed whatever Leia had been trying to ask him. "I beg your pardon?"
"Chandrilla," Leia said impatiently, obviously unused to repeating herself. "Mara says that's where you are from."
"Oh. Yes," Eli said distractedly. "By way of Coruscant."
"Coruscant," Leia repeated, and it suddenly occurred to Eli that she was staring him down. He had no way of knowing how acute her senses were. She could know all about him, and he could be in very great danger.
"Well," She said, her eyes like lasers. "Have you decided if you will stay on Alderaan?"
"I'm still trying to decide."
Leia's eyes followed his to where Mara was laughing loudly at something Vala had said. She reached over and took a wine glass from the tray of a passing serving droid, taking a deep drink. "She is a force of nature, is she not?"
"She is," Eli agreed. His lips tingled, in memory.
"She only appears that way," Leia said.
Eli gave the Senator his undivided attention again. He certainly had hers, and he saw that she did not entirely like whatever she saw in him. He'd never seen a jaw so firmly set on a woman, especially one you could mistake for petite and delicate.
"One day she is going to learn what her frailties truly are," Leia said, taking another sip of wine.
She put the wine glass down with exaggerated care, then suddenly rounded on him. She wasn't tall at all, but she planted her feet so solidly in front of him that Eli involuntarily took a step backward. Her eyes pierced him like a pin through a butterfly. "If you are the one to teach her that lesson, I'll see to it that you wish you had never been born."
Eli flinched as the Senator picked up her glass again and raised it in mock salute. She turned on her heel and stalked away, toward Mara. That was the moment he realized why so many student radicals wore her crest on their sleeves.
It was midnight when he and Mara left. Half of the other party goers were already straggling home. Dahlia and Ormond had disappeared long before to a more private venue. Niall seemed past all caring about parties or anything else and ready for everyone to get out of his house. Vala's golden eyes were growing heavy, and Keo seemed tired of explaining the technical details of his studies to a bunch of people who couldn't understand them. Leia had worked the room diligently but appeared weary to even Eli's unpracticed eye. Her security detail looked exhausted. Meanwhile, Mara tried to cover her yawns, but smiled gratefully when Eli asked if she was ready to go.
"I'm leaving in a few hours," Leia told Mara when they came to bid her goodnight.
Mara's face fell. "I was hoping you and Eli could become better acquainted."
"Some other time, I'm afraid," Leia said. "I'm sorry. If it were possible..."
"I know," Mara said sadly.
Leia embraced her, then turned to Eli, stretching her hand to his. Her grip was wince-inducing again. "I'm glad to have met you, Eli."
"The pleasure is all mine, Senator," He said evenly.
He pretended not to hear her whisper to Mara. "Be careful."
He also pretended not to notice the look they both gave him, or the tiny movement as Leia slipped something small into Mara's cloak pocket.
The stars were still diamonds outside. The air was still the same invigorating chill, and Mara's hand in his had the same shocking contrasting warmth. But the beauty of the night had fallen flat. He didn't notice the night sky, or the kiss of the air. There was a heaviness on his shoulders again, a burden twice as jarring as before.
"Is something wrong?" Mara asked as they walked.
He shook his head and squared his shoulders beneath the weight. He was silent as they crossed the darkened campus to the towering residence hall where she stayed. At her door, he pressed a brotherly kiss to her forehead despite the expectant lift of her chin towards him.
She stared at him in bewilderment. He watched her confusion turn to hurt. Then she pulled away from him and hurried up the stairs, punching her access code into the door lock with more force than was strictly necessary.
As the door slid shut behind her, he collected himself. It's better this way. He slipped behind a nearby grove of shrubs, settling down to wait.
It took almost an hour. He was nearly ready to give up and go back to his own residence hall when he heard the sound of the door again. Peering through the leaves, he saw Mara slip out. She had changed back into casual clothing. She tiptoed down the steps and walked briskly toward the main quad. He counted slowly to ten and then followed her, zigzagging from tree to tree to conceal himself from her watchful eyes.
Walking quickly with her cloak wrapped tightly around her, she bee-lined for the very center of the quad. There was a statue there of an equis and rider on a permacrete pad scattered with snow and fallen leaves. She knelt on the pad, fumbling within her cloak. He saw her reach out to one planted hoof of the huge stone equis, but what she did with her other hand he couldn't quite make out. Then she stood and waited for a moment, reminding him of a forest animal that had been startled by a hunter. For a moment he thought she'd heard some noise from him. He felt her gaze sweep the quad like a spotlight. But then she turned on her heel and walked straight back to her residence hall, punching in her code. The door opened and she ducked inside. It shut firmly behind her and didn't open again.
Eli waited, hardly breathing. Silence lay thick over the campus. At last he flowed silently from his hiding place and walked up to the statue. He put his hand out, laying it on the chilled stone at approximately the same place she'd touched. He imagined he could still feel the warmth of her hand there.
There was a noise like the pins of an antique lock falling away, and a small dark opening appeared at the base of the statue. He knelt, feeling inside with his hand. His fingers contacted stone, dirt, and then a small metallic shape. A data stick. He fished it out and looked at it. It was marked with the Organa crest.
It was damning evidence. He knew it with the knowing of a predator catching the scent of blood on a breeze. Whatever was on the data stick would link Leia to the rebels. If he turned it into Pestage, his job would be done here. All he had to do was stand up, take it back to his room, and transmit it to his handlers over the Holonet. Leia would likely be condemned for treason.
And so would Mara.
He stood there staring at the data stick for so long that the sky began to assume the more nuanced, profound blue of early dawn. He was only shaken from his thoughts by the sound of a door slamming, and one voice calling to another. Students were starting to wake up. Dropping to his knees, he looked around the quad and shoved the data stick back into the compartment, slamming his hand against the equis's hoof to close it again.
When he was sure he was alone and no one had seen what he had done, he ran home as if chased by a legion of storm troopers himself.
