Elan

The halls of the Senate were dark, lit dimly by sleek lamps that reached from the floor to the ceiling. She tried to stretch her neck discreetly as she followed the red-clad guards down the long hall toward Palpatine's dining chambers, the hair at the back of her neck pulled just a little too tightly into a cascading chignon down the side. She'd grown unused to formal gowns and plaited hair since Dwen had died and she'd left her Senate liaison role. Aunt Leia had been displeased, of course, though she couldn't say it under the circumstances. She'd always wanted Elan to be her successor in the Senate. Elan wasn't sure if she'd ever wanted that. And yet here she was, back again, entering this dangerous political dance. More dangerous here than anything she'd know back home.

The red guards were familiar; they'd been Palpatine's personal guard during the Empire, and she'd seen images of them in the histories. She wondered who they were. If they knew yet, where things were going.

Ahead of them, a large silver door hissed open, and there, silhouetted by the stark light of the passing air traffic, stood Palpatine. She had to stop herself from squinting, though she was sure it was him. His face was genial, warm, weary. She had seen images of the Emperor, twisted and shriveled, and this man was nothing like that. She suspected that if she were to reach out in the Force, she'd find a much older being held together by darkness, projecting a facade of humanity. That was the only thing that made sense. It would only be twenty years until her father would kill the form of Palpatine she'd always known.

"Princess, you are most welcome here," he said, and his voice was as warm as his expression, a politician's practiced warmth, but believable nonetheless. She paused, dipped her head, tried to look appropriately fragile.

"Chancellor, I am humbled by your kindness." She was surprised at how easy it was to move into that familiar tremulous voice. Childlike, exhausted, on the edge of cracking with grief. It was a voice she learned well from those early months after Dwen's death, when she could not even recognize the sound of her own words. Palpatine was not the only practiced politician here, it would seem.

"I met your mother-in-law once," he said, motioning her through the door. She detected an unexpectedly curious note in his voice. "Trade route negotiations, back before my Senate days, and Hapes was being a bit territorial. Our interaction was, admittedly, brief. Do you know, there was a Jedi there as well? I think he's dead now, old age-but he found her quite intriguing."

Alarm flared to the ends of her fingertips, and she tried to smother it quickly. He was aware of Ni'Kornish's Force talent. Or suspected. And wanted her to know that he'd be on the alert for it in her. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Typical Skywalker cockiness, walking into a situation with half a plan.

Or...was that really what he wanted her to know? What was his purpose? If he was as arrogant as she believed, he'd not expect her to know his secrets. So ostensibly, he was simply a politician making small talk.

But why bring up the Jedi?

She needed to say something. Anything. He was looking for a response, and here she was, immediately thrown off by him, stuck in her own head.

"I'm surprised the Queen Mother went within fifty paces of a Jedi," she said, flailing wildly for a tone of chilly indifference.

Palpatine sat across from her at the table, and quiet servants moved to place food in front of them-some sort of meat and light greens, nothing she recognized. "Oh," he said, "I do know the long history between Hapes and the Jedi, but it does seem there are exceptions from time to time. There is a thin line between hate and, shall we say, allure."

She caught her breath, the edges of a laugh from pure relief, and stuffed it down. So that was it. That was all it was. He'd heard Obi-Wan Kenobi had been to see her, and that she hadn't thrown him out immediately, and he was trying to figure out why.

"Perhaps," she said, offering the barest of smiles. "As for myself, I do not think I shall go out of my way to spend time with the Jedi while I am here." She took a bite of the meat-flaky, with a bit of spice, reminded her of karsar-chewed, swallowed. She let the silence linger a moment, then said, offhandedly, "Senator Organa tried to get one of them to convince me to meet the Masters at this Temple of theirs. He wasn't bad, I suppose, that one. More relaxed than I expected for a Jedi. But I can't muster the energy to overcome generational strife for the whole lot of them, I'm sure you understand."

Palpatine laughed, a rumbling, welcoming sound. "Who among us can?" He lifted his glass to her, and there was calculation in his gaze. Not quite sure what to do, she clinked her own glass against his.

He was unreadable, this one. She wasn't sure what was mask, what was real, what was lie. She felt like the ground was constantly shifting beneath her feet. She'd always been a little dismissive of the legend of the Emperor-yes, he was powerful, evil, of course, of course, but surely the old Jedi had just been caught off guard, since, after all, her father had defeated him with barely any training. But now...now she was forced to reckon with that story. Her father hadn't defeated him, really. Her grandfather had, and had it just been pure luck, a moment when Palpatine had been distracted, drunk on the idea of destroying the last Jedi?

She'd thought, without really thinking about it, that this would be easy. But now-no, she'd never encountered anything like this Sith Lord. Fear began to creep through her veins, icy cold.

"I do hope you'll be able to lay down your arms, as it were, for one other Jedi, though," Palpatine said, his eyes still glittering with that calculation. "My liason from the Council was here today, and please believe me when I tell you he's not like the rest of them. I do think you'll quite like him, if you're willing for him to join us."

Elan felt her brow instinctively furrow in confusion, and in the brief, secondary panic of catching herself, decided it was warranted for the Hapan princess to react that way. What Jedi? And why would Palpatine want him here? Was it another Sith, converted from the Jedi, was it…

Gods gods gods.

Anakin. It could only be Anakin.

Had he already been turned?

"Do I have a choice?" she asked, and she couldn't stop her voice from shaking. "Certainly, Chancellor, I do not understand your motives in this. Do you wish to welcome me or evaluate me?"

Palpatine spread out his hand, an expansive gesture. "Princess, Princess-come now, you know it must be both. I am charged with the protection of the Republic, and while you are indeed most welcome, I must also be sure you are not a danger to us."

Not a danger to him. And while he would be careful not to read her in the Force, in this context, he could certainly bring his pet Vadar to do so.

Palpatine smiled, all bared teeth, and waved his hand toward the door at the far end of the room. A servant, hastily, placed another plate at the table, and Elan found herself disconnectly wondering if Palpatine was also improvising, deciding on the roll of the dice how to handle the unknown.

She heard footsteps on the other side of the doorway, and then-

Her throat convulsed. He walked into the room, confident, relaxed, square jaw, blue eyes, wavy hair to his cheekbones. He was so like Cor in appearance, so like Jacen in his easy smugness, she could hardly breathe.

The sudden piercing pain of missing her family almost bowled her over. She felt overwhelmed by the empty space that was usually so crowded with warmth and voices and emotion, the space that she'd tried to ignore these last hours.

And here he was. The beginning of it all. Unknown and yet the closest thing here to everything she'd ever known.

And the servant of the Emperor.

Or was he?

Anakin leaned toward her, a quick, careless bow, too eager and forced. He was...not detached. And certainly a Sith Lord would be detached, wouldn't he?

"Princess Elanamai Chume," Palpatine said, and this time she heard the steely note in his voice, "meet Anakin Skywalker."

She thinned her lips, gave him a curt nod. Every nerve felt taut with grief and ache and hope.

"Princess, it's an honor to meet you." Anakin's words came out in a rush as he sat down at the table. "I had hoped to have the opportunity-you're all the Council has been talking about, and-"

Palpatine cleared his throat, and Anakin stopped short, glancing over at the Chancellor, a sheepish look on his face. Palpatine looked amused, almost paternal. The interchange made Elan feel sick. Of course Palpatine had sway over the first Skywalker, of course his relationship with Anakin tilted the scales away from even Anakin's relationship with Obi-Wan-but to see it so clearly…

"Chancellor." An attendant had slipped into the room, moved silently to Palpatine's side, leaned toward his ear. "It's the blockade. I'm sorry, I wouldn't have interrupted for anything else."

The fury that crossed Palpatine's face was so quick, Elan would have missed it had she not been watching him closely. He was being taken away, and that was the last thing he wanted on this night. He'd orchestrated this meeting, placed her and Anakin together, and now he could not play puppet master?

"Anakin," he said smoothly, "I suspect I'll need your help with this. Princess, I do apologize-we shall not be long."

Elan didn't bother to suppress her smirk. He wasn't trying to hide his attempts to manipulate the situation-why should she? "Come now, Chancellor," she said, "you said you wanted to get to know this Jedi friend of yours. You've tricked me into it once, and I won't let that happen again, so you'd best make the most of your chance while it lasts. I'm sure you'll be right back."

Anakin swallowed, picked up his glass and gulped down some water, and stared at the table. Palpatine was motionless a moment, his nostrils ever so slightly flared. Then, as though he'd made a decision, his expression relaxed.

"Of course," he said, and the warmth had returned to his voice. "Of course you're right. Please, do continue without me."

Had he figured out how to use the situation to his advantage, or was he simply trying not to let down his mask too much in front of Anakin? She'd certainly blown up all her plans to be innocuous to this Emperor-in-waiting, but pushing his buttons, playing this cutthroat game of chess, was more satisfying than she would have expected.

Palpatine placed his hand heavily on Anakin's shoulder for a brief second, then turned and strode out of the room. Anakin looked up to watch him go, then looked over at Elan.

"You shouldn't do that," he said.

"Do what?" Elan sipped her champagne, suddenly and intensely angry at this grandfather of hers.

"He's a powerful man, and he won't let you push him around just because you're new here, or Hapan." Anakin's eyes narrowed.

"How lucky for him to have a Jedi so solidly in his corner," she said coolly. "One might almost think you were choosing sides."

"Choosing sides against what?" Anakin made a scoffing noise. "Against you? Sure. You're not part of the Republic. He is. I am. I'm tasked with defending the Republic. He is part of the Republic."

"So say you." Elan felt her jaw clench almost reflexively. She stopped herself short of hissing, I don't suffer fools, Anakin Skywalker, and by all the gods, you really are one, aren't you?

She saw his eyes cloud with that familiar dark Skywalker anger, the swelling turbulence she knew lurked in her eyes as well. She should be trying to save him, but all she wanted to do was fight him. It was Palpatine she should hate, but here she was, realizing that once again someone in her family was at the root of all her pain.

Anakin stared at her, and she didn't flinch. Most people did, when they were on the other side of the furious blue Skywalker gaze. He was probably used to it. He'd never looked himself in the eyes before, after all.

After only a few seconds, though, something shifted. The clouds dissipated. Anakin looked uncertain, even confused.

"What the hell are you blaming me for?" he asked softly. "You're twenty steps down a road I don't even know exists."

The question startled her out of her fury, and she took a deep breath. In all her childhood imaginings of her father's father in this time, he was the patsy, the block-headed goon with more Force ability than he knew what to do with, so easily tricked and manipulated.

And yet here he was, seeing straight to the heart of things-understanding, somehow, that he was the source of her anger in a way that didn't make any logical sense.

She couldn't do this. She pushed herself away from the table abruptly, knocking an empty glass over in the process. "I need to go." She felt like she could do nothing, and at the same time needed to do something, and the words came out in a rush. "This-you need to know-none of this is safe. He is not safe." She paused. Then, softly, "You are not safe, nor am I. This whole thing is cracks under the surface, a fault about to become an earthquake. Watch yourself. Trust no one but Obi-Wan Kenobi."

And with that she pushed past the red guards at the edges of the room and fled into the night.