Elan
He'd been warm. Honest. And...something else. There was a bond there, a Force connection. It was something she so rarely found outside her family. But Obi-Wan Kenobi was practically family, right? At least in her father's eyes.
She felt unsettled.
He'd touched her hand before he left, bowing slightly, his eyes wrinkling in the corners with a wry smile. He suspected her Force ability, that much she could tell. He was perceptive, this one. She'd have to tread carefully.
But she didn't want to. Why didn't she want to?
He needed to know about Anakin. More than her, he could actually make a difference, maybe, if he knew. There was a friendship there. She was sure of it. Anakin was one of the friends he'd referenced, the one he worried about, got angry with. Anakin was enough to make this Jedi bend the Code. And perhaps Obi-Wan was the same for him. Maybe, just maybe, Anakin would listen, if Obi-Wan knew what to say.
But how could she tell him? How could she explain knowing any of this, explain knowing what Anakin needed?
The Force whispered that this man was safe. Everything else in her rebelled against the idea.
The holo buzzed, lighting up with a message from Bail Organa. Princess Chume-formal; this message was meant for spying eyes-I hope you are settling in well. I do not wish to overburden you as you adjust to your new home, but our friend the Chancellor wishes to offer you his greetings. If you are willing to meet him, he would like to welcome you this evening at his home.
It had been her idea. All of this had been her idea. And yet every decision seemed to only have full weight once there was no turning back. The sudden reality of facing Palpatine-the most powerful Sith the galaxy had ever known, the man who single-handedly took down the Republic, and who would have remained Emperor forever had her father not come along-made her feel a bit shaky.
"Maris," she called out, "I will be meeting with the Chancellor this evening."
Maris entered the room silently, as though he'd been standing just outside. The arched brows communicated concern, skepticism that he would not voice.
"I know it seems unwise," she said.
His lips thinned.
"You may speak freely," she said, a bit exasperated. "I need you to talk to me, even if you disagree."
The barest glimmer of a smile. "It is unwise," he said. "I assume you are doing all of this for a reason, but truthfully, Princess, I do not understand why you are putting yourself so squarely in the middle of the coming conflict. The Queen Mother surely did not ask this of you."
Elan took a deep breath. "She did not." She paused, thinking. He was Hapan, and clearly from the upper classes, which meant that he knew what no one else here did: that she was no daughter-in-law of Ni'Korish. Another decision to make. Another precipice. "Did the Queen Mother tell you the...details of our connection?"
He raised his chin slightly, looked thoughtful, then grave. "A'tana'la pe ta'tola shei," he said.
The spirits of our descendents walk among us.
He'd known this whole time. Ni'Korish trusted him implicitly.
You have to trust someone, she told herself.
"Yes," she said quietly. "My husband's father was Isolder, son of Ta'a Chume. I do not know how I came to be here, but I do know what is about to happen. And...I am particularly invested in seeing Palpatine defeated."
His eyes narrowed. He was unsurprised by her revelation-Ni'Korish must have already told him. But he was curious. She waited.
"I-" For the first time, he seemed uncertain as to how to proceed. "Princess, I-I should not say this. But I will. You must know that I have sworn to protect you. I will support you in your mission here, for I believe that the wisdom of ta'tola is a gift, sent to us all for such a time. But you should know that I have lived on this planet for fifty years. It is…" He paused, and she saw brief terror in his eyes. She was not the only one standing on a precipice. "Is is more my home than Hapes," he said.
No wonder he was afraid. Those were traitorous words for a Hapan-to admit allegiance to any place other than Hapes. He was trusting her as much as she was trusting him, with the same wild step into mid-air.
It was not an accident, her being here. Every piece had been laid out before her. Even an unasked-for and deeply needed ally such as Maris.
"If you seek to save this place," Maris said softly, "then I swear that I will do anything you ask to help you in that task."
She stood, and placed her left hand on her right arm. She bowed, deep and wordlessly. Maris took a sharp breath, and stood very still.
"You are a princess. You should not bow to one such as me so," he said, shakily.
Elan raised her head, and smiled, feeling freedom, peace, hope. She had abandoned the Force, but it had not abandoned her. Now, as she tentatively reached out again, for the first time in months openly and without hostility, she sensed warmth and direction. "I bow to courage," she said. "I bow to one who is a friend to me in this place. You and I are in this together, Maris." She took his hand, and he met her eyes with relief. "I am royalty by marriage, and I am also a citizen of the Republic," she said. "But above all, I have sworn to protect the vulnerable and oppressed. And I did not expect to find such help in an unfamiliar time."