Dear Qui-Gon,

I have spent several days with young Leia and have made little progress. Where Luke was keen to learn and quick to trust, Leia is as stubborn and sceptical as her father, and I have struggled to reach the child. Her mind is nigh impenetrable, which demonstrates her natural skills, but makes teaching her vastly more difficult. Luke's mind and heart were open, his immense aptitude in the Force making him feel the thoughts and emotions of others too deeply – a true empath. In contrast Leia is a thinker – analytical and precise.

I do not mean she lacks feeling, in fact I have witnessed a great kindness and sense of justice in the girl. But all of her energy is directed outward, with such great self-control that I fear there is little she lets truly affect her. She would always give comfort to others but never seek it in return.

I've tried to teach her to hide herself in the Force – to enhance her natural shields to reduce the chances of detection by another Force sensitive. It was under the guise of meditation, of course, since her parents felt trying to explain the Force to her would appeal to Leia's ambition and take her down a path they feared.

But I found my efforts frustrated, Leia unwilling to relax and allow me into her mind to demonstrate how the skill was learned.

"Why don't you trust me, child?" I asked, frustrated. We were sitting cross-legged on the floor in Leia's rooms where she usually took lessons. Sabé sat in the corner, one leg crossed over the other, idly overseeing the session.

Leia looked at me through narrowed eyes. "Because you're lying."

"Oh?" I was curious. "What makes you say that?"

"I always know when people are lying," Leia said matter of factly. "Mama lied when she said you were her cousin, Papa lied when he said you were a tutor, and you lied about everything." She stuck out her lower lip. "I don't like it."

The Force manifesting itself in her, Qui-Gon, ordinarily such a wonderful thing to behold. But now it is dangerous. Could I trust a little girl to keep my secrets? On the other hand how can I expect her to trust me, unless I give the same to her? I looked to Sabé for permission as much as advice, and she gave a small nod.

"My real name is Obi-Wan Kenobi," I told Leia, looking directly into her eyes. "And I am a tutor of sorts, but unlike one you have ever known. Have you heard of the Clone Wars?"

Leia nodded slowly, and through the Force I felt the tension in her lessen slightly.

"I fought in them – with your father in fact." It amused me, I do admit, to use language in this way, since it was not a lie at all.

Leia narrowed her eyes again. "Papa wasn't a fighter."

I smiled to myself. "Quite right. Bail was a Senator who nonetheless was drawn into battle occasionally, and I was a General often charged with assisting his relief efforts."

"General Kenobi," Leia sounded out the words slowly. "I like that."

I had struck something within the girl – she was drawn to order, a need to find her place in the chaos. "You can call me that if you like," I told her. "And be my cadet?"

Leia seemed to mull this over, toying with her braids as she studied me. "Aren't Jedi cadets called padawans?"

Sabé, halfway through eating a biscuit, almost choked on it, coughing and spluttering and giving me a bewildered look. I was no less shocked, but took it better.

"Why do you think I am a Jedi?"

Leia shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Most generals in the Clone Wars were Jedi, and you want to teach me stuff to do in my head."

Clever girl. "It is not safe in the galaxy for Jedi," I reminded her, seeing that denial would be useless. "So you see why your parents and I had to lie?"

"I can keep a secret," Leia looked up at me, her large, dark eyes earnest with a spark of excitement lingering within.

"Good," I nodded. "Because what I want to teach you is for your own protection. Alright, cadet?"

Leia straightened her back and lifted her chin. "Yes, sir."

Later, Sabé and I shared tea in her quarters. Much like the woman herself, they were refined but not sterile, lavish without being showy. Similar to the rest of the Palace the room was adorned with furnishings in Organa blue, but there were hints to Sabé's own heritage in small touches – accents of red on the drapes and tablecloths, a painting of Theed Palace hanging on the wall, and of course her cast iron tea set of black and crimson, the only keepsake of her family she had left.

"You say that Master Jinn can reach you from the beyond?" Sabé asked as she poured the tea, a calming blend of khama and sweet-roots.

"Yes," I said, inhaling the delicate scent of the tea. "Not always, but we can communicate sometimes – I speak to him more often, and believe he hears me." Or rather, Qui-Gon, that somehow you sense the words I write, since even to Sabé communication via journal may seem too strange!

"How?" she pressed.

"I admit I do not quite know," I admitted. "Everything passes on into the Force as you know, but somehow he was able to retain form and consciousness. He is teaching me, for when I pass on."

Sabé set the teapot down on the table a trifle hard, making it shake. I steadied it with one hand and regarded her curiously – eyes downcast, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, and a shadow passing over her face. But it disappeared as she looked up again, as ever serene.

"Do you think non-Force sensitives could do this?"

"You're thinking of Padmé," I realised, reaching out to cover her hand with mine.

"It would be nice to talk to her," Sabé said with a sad smile. "I know I can, and sometimes I do, just like you with Qui-Gon. But she never answers back."

"I'm sure she would say she was grateful," I assured her. "For looking after Leia. She is a wonderful child."

Sabé brightened then, her thoughts clearly drifting the girl who was the centre of her world. "Yes," she nodded at me. "And you, with Luke."

I withdrew my hand and took a sip of tea, the floral-sweet flavor instantly calming. "It is nice to be teaching again."

Sabé gave me an odd look, and I knew she had spotted a discrepancy. "How eager you must be to resume your training with him," she said, prodding cautiously at the hole in my story.

"Oh, Sabé." I looked up at the ceiling, the weight of my secret too heavy to keep up. "I have not seen Luke for some time. No," I corrected myself. "I have seen him from afar, but I am not even permitted to speak to him. I am exiled twice over."

The whole, dreadful story spilled from my lips – my initial friendship with Beru, the deal with Jabba, my encounter with Bo-Katan and her daughter, and finally my arrogance and betrayal of their trust leading to my violent dismissal at Owen's hand. To her credit, Sabé simply listened to my tale, quietly sipping her tea and giving no outward sign of judgement.

"So you see?" I finished, offering her my palms as if that would absolve me. "I have failed with Anakin, and now Luke as well. You should send me away before I can do the same with Leia."

A crease formed between Sabé's eyes. "I have never known you to be so self-pitying," she scolded me. "Anakin made his own choices despite your training, and while you overstepped with Luke, I can see it was only out of concern for his wellbeing. A bit of arrogance, perhaps," she added, a small smile appearing. "Which is hardly a fatal flaw, and one reigned in easily enough."

"Anakin used to help with that," I said wistfully, tracing the rim of my teacup. "His skills and achievements kept me humble, and now I am unchecked."

"I can berate you, if you like," Sabé said, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "But it seems you need reassurance. How strange," she added with a light laugh. "That a Jedi Master would need praise from a governess."

"I am not a Jedi Master anymore," I pointed out. "And you are far more than a simple governess."

Then Sabé looked at me in a way I can't quite describe, the barest of smiles gracing her lips. I wonder if she has always looked at me so, and I simply did not see it, or if time and circumstance has caused such a feeling to bloom within her. It was the look of a dearest friend and confidante, and yet so much more that I felt a blush rise to my cheeks.

I have always considered her beautiful, but in the way one might appreciate a delicate flower left on the stem, not to be plucked. And yet she seemed different, as if I had always admired from afar and so had never fully appreciated the colour, bloom, and scent. Looking back over our friendship, I wonder if something had always been brewing there below the surface, never quite strong enough to breach until now.

"I should go." I cleared my throat and rose to leave, nerves skimming under my skin.

"Don't." She rose as well, tugging lightly on my arm. "Please."

I could not refuse her, turning to see her face close to mine. "Sabé," I sighed her name. "In my heart, I am still very much a Jedi. And attachment is forbidden – look at what happened with Anakin."

"I know," she said, and my gaze couldn't help but linger on the way her mouth formed the words. "And soon we will part again, as we have done so many times before. Duty first, always." She cupped my face gently in her small hands, her thumb brushing over the side of my mouth where the skin was smooth. "But comfort, fleeting as it may be – is that also against your Jedi code?"

She waited a few moments for my answer, but I had none to give her. For the first time in a long while I felt understood and accepted, her presence and conversation helping to lift away some of the burdens which had plagued me these past months.

My dear Sabé, who was not a Jedi, and yet understood the life I lived perhaps better than any other. Sabé who drew my face towards hers and pressed her soft lips against mine, a kiss of deep affection and companionship, a culmination of years and distance and conversations over tea, of support and reassurance and yes, even love, although not the great passion that had driven our friends to the brink and beyond. Rather, something far more pleasant, her arms winding around my neck and drawing me close to find strength in her, and in return to take comfort from me...

But to write any more would be indelicate, so I will leave it there.

Obi-Wan Kenobi