Chapter 6
Maiden and the Jedi Knight
Author's Note: Shut the front door I updated! Holy crap that took ages! An explanation for my tardiness because I totally intended to update this months earlier: I hit a snag where I just couldn't write this piece for the longest time! I also lost the second re-write I'd originally deemed as the best way to portray the concept of this chapter. You see, my hard drive sort of died and left me in the dust scrambling to gather up any or all sort of data I could. What happened was this: the concept I have for this chapter as it stands now, is titled "Failed Chapter 6 Beyond the Force" or something like that on dA right now because I'd scrapped it, but had worked hard enough on it to have wanted to post. When my computer crashed, I had almost despaired at the prospect of re-writing this chapter before I realized that the failed concept existed. So, what I'm posting now is the extremely edited and fleshed out version of this story. Yay!
Speaking of extreme edits, I'm going to go through and fix previous chapters. I intend to map out the consistencies verses the inconsistencies and, those inconsistencies I like will stay while the others will die a quick and painful death. The dialogue Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan uses need to be revamped. I don't know why I thought they'd talk like elves did, but for some reason I had them do so. Anyway, next chapter will go up around the time chapter one and two are fixed, so get ready!
Bellethiel ven Aldura, princess of the elven race, was in her room again. Curled up into an upright ball amidst the slightly ruffled covers of one who doesn't sleep much anymore she stared unseeingly at the wall across from her. A bookshelf that housed her favorite fiction and history books rested against that wall with its various colors, sizes and ages.
She knew it was there, had seen it almost every day for one hundred years of her life, but her dead teal eyes weren't looking at it. Instead, within the confines of her mind, the picture of her now deceased uncle haunted her vision. The last time she had seen him, the ellon had been bloody, battered, and bruised, but very much alive. They were about to be separated into different cells, he in the torture chambers and she in the windowless compartments close. He told her everything would be fine, encouraged her to stand strong and not give in. Now he was gone, just like her father.
She barely heard the gentle knock that startled her mind out of its melancholy musings, but she did. Bellethiel sighed, not feeling in the mood to answer and let the one who disturbed her in, but answered anyway.
"Come in," her voice was empty of all emotion.
The door opened and Qui-Gon peered into the room. She tried her best to work up a smile for him, he worried about her often ever since rescuing her, but it failed. Her best efforts always did. The reward for her failure was the slight flicker in his eyes telling her the effect her current state had for him. At this point, it must have been bad if his emotions were breaking through his neutral wall he carefully worked on to hide his emotions.
"What is it?" she asked though even to her the tone sounded more like a blank statement then a question.
Had she been in her right mind, she would have winced. She wasn't, though, and all she felt capable of doing was stare blankly at him until he told her what he wanted.
"Dinner will be served soon, would you like me to bring you something?" he asked.
She lowered her gaze and shook her head. She didn't want anything.
"I am not hungry," Bellethiel muttered.
She didn't want to see his reaction nor did she want to hear what he had to say next. He always said it. Couldn't he leave her alone?
"You must eat," Qui-Gon insisted.
Bellethiel didn't answer. He was right, she knew, but she eating seemed arbitrary these days. Living seemed arbitrary! Why should she live when the people she loved the most died because of her? What made her more important than everyone else? She wasn't special. She was just like them. They shouldn't have to die for her, be targeted just to get to her, or anything. Her enemies should just come after her personally. Why did they insist of trying to break her? Why not just kill her instead?
"Belle, please?" he suddenly asked
She didn't want to look at him. The look that would be on his face would break her heart even more.
"You may go now," she dismissed.
He didn't leave immediately, but stood there watching her. She could feel his gaze on her, like he wanted to say so many things but didn't seem to know how to word them. When he finally left she buried her head into her arms nested around her drawn up knees and began to cry.
Qui-Gon left her room and stood at the door listening for a moment. When he heard a quiet sob he finally drew away and turned towards the fireplace. Obi-Wan, completely healed from his wounds, had a worried look on his face.
"Nothing?" his apprentice asked.
Qui-Gon nodded and moved to join his apprentice.
"It's been a month," muttered Obi-Wan.
"It might as well have been two days," replied Qui-Gon.
A month and she didn't let him in at all. She pushed him away and isolated herself inside her room. She never moved, never slept, never ate. She drank water, but barely. Seeing her in this state today seemed to bring him to the breaking point. When she dismissed him, he had almost cried. He hadn't felt the need to shed any tears in a long time.
"They managed to break her, Obi-Wan, and I don't know what to do," he said.
Obi-Wan frowned.
"Maybe you should speak to the professor?" he suggested.
Qui-Gon glanced at his apprentice for a moment before nodding. It was sound advice. The elf had been with the princess through everything. She would know what he would need to do.
He stood and nodded towards Obi-Wan.
"Would you like anything?" he asked.
Obi-Wan nodded and Qui-Gon took his leave.
Professor Laurel Moruni was worried. She hadn't seen the princess since she had told her about her uncle's fate. From what Master Jinn had told her the other day, her apprentice had taken to locking herself inside her room and refusing to come out for anything. She had tried to see her once and the blatant dismissal she received from the girl she had taken an interest in left her in a raging fury. She had calmed down when she reminded herself of what it was Bellethiel had lost, but the frustration at her princess was still there.
When Qui-Gon Jinn approached her that night looking so utterly lost, Laurel knew that Bellethiel hadn't made any progress. She sighed and went to meet him.
"This is about her, isn't it?" she asked him.
Qui-Gon nodded mutely and Laurel signaled a servant leaving the Great Hall.
"Fix four plates, send two to the princess' chambers and the other two to the meeting room. I wish to discuss a few things with Master Jinn in private," she ordered.
The blond servant inclined her head in a bow, "Yes Professor."
With that done, Laurel beckoned the Jedi Master to follow her a little ways down the hall to one of the smaller dining rooms where negotiations were held. They sat down and waited for their food. Once it arrived she nodded for him to speak his piece.
"Bellethiel refuses to see Obi-Wan. She will not eat, she cannot sleep, and she has not seen Sila in over a month. I… I don't know what to do," confessed Qui-Gon with a slight break in his voice.
Laurel nodded and folded her hands into her lap. She observed Qui-Gon with suspicion of something that had been festering in her mind for a while now. The man wasn't eating much either, she noted, and nor was he sleeping. In fact, he looked frazzled.
"She'll only see you?" she clarified.
He nodded and Laurel frowned.
She would only see him, he looked like Belle's current depression was killing him, if this was what she suspected it was then he would also be the only one to help her. Laurel took a bite of meat on her plate, bison, and nodded for Qui-Gon to do the same. He did, albeit reluctantly.
"You'll do most of the eating and I'll do most of the talking," she instructed after a few more bites of food.
Qui-Gon nodded and began to eat at a normal pace. He must have been desperate if he wasn't arguing with her.
"What you need to do is eat a few good meals, take a shower, trim your beard and then be there for her. Wasting away with her isn't going to help in this situation. You need to be a strong force for her to lean on. Allowing yourself to fall apart with worry isn't going to help her. Another thing, I'm guessing she dismisses you? Yes? Well then, here's what you do. Don't leave. She's trying to be stupid about this whole thing. Don't get me wrong, I've my share of mourning in my nineteen thousand years. She's not trying to test you. She's trying to make the world stop caring about her and you're probably one of the people who care about her the most. Don't look so surprised, it's obvious when one's paying attention. Do not let her alienate you, it's what she wants but it isn't what she needs," instructed Laurel.
The way he blinked at her told the historian that she had gotten his attention. She smiled softly allowing him to see a glimpse of the gentler side of her personality rarely bestowed to anyone. There was, in her opinion, a time and place for it.
"I've been through seven human husbands over the course of my life. All of my aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers and sisters are no longer among the living. I've even watched a few grandchildren and great-grandchildren die. My eldest son, Mafortion, is nearing the end of his life. I have learned to deal with grief. The princess has not. She is weak right now, broken even, but she can be put back together. Lorn was the last remnant of an old age, born before Artemis during the last days of our old planet. I can promise you that he was at peace in death. Bellethiel must discover this as well," she said.
Qui-Gon straightened in his seat, his plate and goblet empty, and bowed.
"Thank you, Professor," he said.
Laurel stood and gathered the dishes, "Go back to her, see if you can coax her into eating."
He nodded and took his leave. When the Jedi Master was gone, Laurel's smile fell and was replaced by a look of worry. As much as she supported this blossoming romance, she worried about the consequences.
Bellethiel wasn't sure why Obi-Wan had entered her room, without knocking, and placed a plate of unwanted food beside her. Hadn't she told Qui-Gon she didn't want anything? This intrusion of her month long ritual unsettled her and she suddenly felt disoriented and confused. Why did they do this?
A soft knock was heard on her door after some unknown amount of time. She didn't reply. She didn't want this extra interruption. She wanted things to continue on as they were. She wanted to sit on the edge of her bed and regain her balance.
The door opened and Qui-Gon stepped in. He was in his night-wear, cotton shirt and leggings given to him when he first arrived in Illearia. Bellethiel pretended that he hadn't entered despite the fact that her heart quickened and her eyes watered. She didn't want to cry in front of him.
"Belle, you need to eat," he said in an attempt to gain a reaction from her.
She fixed him with a blank gaze. Hadn't they covered this weeks ago? Why did he insist on pursuing this subject?
He caught her look and instead of backing away, approached her. She didn't move, didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Qui-Gon knelt beside her.
"I can see your bones, Belle, please eat," he begged.
Really? Her bones were showing? Bellethiel glanced down at her arm and was startled. She knew she looked bad, but how bad never quite dawned on her. His stronger, healthier, hand clasped on of her weak ones. His scent wafted to her nose. He must have taken a bath, because he smelled clean. The touch and the feeling of personal contact with another being began to wake her up. How long had it been since he had touched her? How long had it been since he ventured close enough to?
Her stomach growled and Bellethiel's other hand clenched at the sudden pain. Maybe he was right. Maybe she needed to eat something.
She glanced at her food lifted a bony hand, a product of her self-starvation, and was embarrassed and angered to find it shaking. The rebellious streak that lay dormant in the back of her mind rustled. She let herself become so weak that she shook too much to even grab food.
Qui-Gon clasped her wondering hand in his and shook his head.
"Let me," he said gently.
He set her hands in her lap and reached for the plate of cooked bison, boiled potatoes, grilled green beans, and raw tomatoes. He brought it to her and she attempted to grab the fork and knife resting on the plate, but her hands shook too much for the movement to be any use. Qui-Gon already anticipated this, it seemed, because he moved beside her on her head and placed the plate between them.
Being fed by someone else was embarrassing; especially by Qui-Gon. The fact that she needed this help was ridiculous! He didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, he seemed at peace with the whole situation.
As this went on, he told her about the Jedi Temple. At first, she wanted the original silence, but the more he spoke of this place she had never been to, the more she felt intrigued despite herself. When he spoke of the temple gardens she found a small smile playing on her lips. It sounded like whoever developed those gardens had the flowered forests of Illearia in mind. It sounded beautiful.
When she was finished eating, Qui-Gon stood with the nearly empty dish in hand. Her hand, steadier now with a full stomach, shot out and clasped his elbow. She sent him an imploring gaze.
"Don't leave," she begged hoarsely.
One of his hands left the plate and cupped her cheek, "Let me give this to Obi-Wan and I will be back."
She nodded feeling somewhat satisfied with his assurance. He never lied to her. He would come back.
And he did, hands plate-free, to sit beside her again.
"Will you sleep tonight?" he asked.
She wanted to, she really wanted to, but part of the reason why she didn't was because of the nightmares from her time in captivity.
"I… don't know," she replied finally.
Bellethiel leaned her head against his shoulder and let out a sigh. She was exhausted in any case. Closing her eyes for a minute would suffice. She could open them again feeling energized like always. She didn't want to sleep.
Despite telling herself this, sleep claimed her.
Qui-Gon wasn't sure what sparked this immediate response to his sudden intrusion on her depression, but he was thankful that he managed to get through to her. He wasn't, however, sure if he could let her sleep on him.
He sighed. He would let her, he knew. This was Bellethiel.
He shifted his position and laid both of them across the length of the bed. He shifted her gently so that her head rested on his chest. After using his free hand to brush strands of unwashed hair from her face he closed his eyes and listened to her breathe.
A new routine had been formed after that night. Bellethiel had taken to treating Qui-Gon like her personal therapist and told him everything that went on during her brief captivity with the Knight Elves. She told him about her relationship with her uncle, though at first the words stumbled through tearful sobs. Belle managed it, though, and with every day she ate, allowed her skin's hue to grow into a healthy pallor, she felt her strength return.
She was able to face Obi-Wan once two weeks had gone by. They spoke while he helped out where his master couldn't. He told her about the Nubian senator, Palpatine, currently staying on Illearia as the Republic's official ambassador and two Jedi Masters on the Council who accompanied him. She remarked, in turn, how unusual it was for an actual Republic senator to come to Illearia and told him about the three times she had been present for their visits.
When a month went by and she wasn't looking like she could drop dead at any minute, her Jedi guards led her out into the public. Bellethiel received her mother in a lukewarm demeanor, not wishing to ask her or let on what she suspected concerning the Queen's lack of control over her court. Professor Moruni had been ecstatic to find her apprentice relatively well and not in a black hole of depression. She was able to meet Earmiriel and Throlim on less formal occasion than was originally the case in their relationship.
The meeting had been awkward, to say the least, as Belle had ignored everyone in her solitary confinement in the days following her rescue and her uncle's death. But, Earmiriel had, especially, been kind and had taken Belle's hands in her longer ones.
"It does my heart well to see you're recovering, my lady. My brother and I have kept you in our prayers," she had said.
Bellethiel, who had been unsure of where the conversation was going, merely smiled and returned the greeting, "And it does mine well to hear that. I am afraid I've neglected you and your brother. If my sources are to be believed," she had winked at both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan after that comment, "then you two had played a big role in my rescue."
The tall, pretty, elf maiden actually flushed a rosy pink at the compliment. Bellethiel silently envied that attribute. Blushes never quite looked right on her, in her personal opinion. It was the pale skin. Hers certainly could glow all it liked, but the red it turned whenever she was embarrassed was absolutely ghastly! The slight sense of envy wasn't anything new, Belle harbored the same feelings towards her mother, a full-blooded Rhune elf.
But she hadn't let Earmiriel see any of that, no matter how slight, and she was glad of it.
"We may have been the distraction, but your knight was the one to find you," Throlim had said.
"Your trials were admirable, my lady, we were told that a demon had been summoned to afflict you!" said Earmiriel.
Belle nodded while swallowing back her emotions that threatened to surface. Just because her depression had eased didn't mean that the memories of her time in the tower had. In fact, nightmares had begun to plague her now that her mind was allowed to dwell on other things.
Throlim seemed to have sensed this because he had moved the topic to magic and Earmiriel told Belle with great enthusiam were she and her brother had learned their craft. Bellethiel listened silently and then compared notes with the two. The conversation turned to other things concerning their mutual interests – in which Belle and Miri (Earmiriel's nickname that Throlim enjoyed using for his sister) discovered they had a lot in common. Over the weeks that followed, they became friends.
Then she had the pleasure of meeting Senator Palpatine.
That had been an interesting experience. The senator was definitely a politician. He laughed, he smiled, and made love to everyone around him with a jovial sense of kindness and compassion. It was easy to forget that he was a political man with ambitions and love of power. Palpatine was your friend whatever the case was. A kindly old man who couldn't possibly have any sort of ulterior motive; he was practically a grandfather.
The ruse would have worked had Bellethiel been anyone else, but her eyes had been opened since discovering there were Knight Elves inside Rhunic ranks bent on betraying her and her mother. What was once her general assumption that most of the politicians around her were morons was now replaced with a general mistrust for anyone who held political power. Senator Palpatine made her feel like a hunted animal and she always walked away from him feeling like she had trudged through an exceptionally boggy river.
With the troublesome atmosphere in the elven political realm making Bellethiel uneasy, her studies with Professor Moruni turned into practicing the art of politics. Maf still taught her magic on certain afternoons, but his technique changed and the elderly wizard began instructing her on using her powers for offensive and defensive purposes. She and Qui-Gon resumed their evening sword practice with him instructing her on certain forms the Jedi used, other forms she was taught, and how to combine them. Her aunt, even, joined in on the training once she became aware of it, though not at the same time Qui-Gon worked with her.
Basically, everyone around her was making sure that she wouldn't get captured again.
Qui-Gon especially, she thought, was most adamant about it. Where the others were simply concerned and giving her tips on how to be careful, the Jedi Master seemed to be keeping a closer eye on her. He wasn't quite intrusive about it, but it still was suffocating. It didn't matter the time of day or where she went, the pleasant constant he once had become in her life morphed into what she felt was her literal shadow. And he was a very careful shadow who practically walked on eggshells around her.
He had good reason. After he uncle's untimely demise Belle had let herself go in the worst sense. In all honesty, that part of her grief was her fault. She shouldn't have allowed herself to alienate those around her and she shouldn't have allowed her body to waist away like it did. Now she was stuck with him treating her like she would break at the slightest touch.
It was frustrating to say the least.
This day was no different – a month and a week since Qui-Gon had broken the barrier of her depression. They ate dinner in the common room of their chambers no longer trusting the lords and ladies within the Dining Hall. Obi-Wan, who ate an hour earlier, was out patrolling the castle grounds. She and Qui-Gon were alone.
There was a tension between them and she could feel it. Strained feelings built up over the course of daylight hours the more both he and Obi-Wan (especially Qui-Gon) continued their cautious dance. It stretched and strained until the rusted chain that reigned in her temper was at a breaking point. Qui-Gon seemed to realize this and made a valiant attempt to respectfully tone down his sudden overprotective streak. To Belle, it made little difference. No matter how hard he attempted to pretend that everything was slowly going back to normal between them, they weren't.
The tension had become so bad that she hadn't asked him to stay in the room with her until she fell asleep. At this point, Belle couldn't decipher whether she wanted his company or not, she was caught between the two.
And it made her all the more irritated.
He watched her in a way that she knew he was fervently trying to be discrete, but was failing miserably at the attempt. Sadly, she noticed anyway.
She just, couldn't take the pressure of being stared at anymore. He couldn't seem to relax for a second around her and the constant wariness, the fear, he displayed in concern of her well being was starting to grate on her nerves. It was at that moment, just one small instance, when she realized that she hadn't despised anyone more than Qui-Gon at that moment.
True to her nature, she made certain that he knew something about it.
"For a few minutes, Qui-Gon, just a few minutes, would it kill you to treat me like I can actually take care of myself?" Bellethiel asked in a low, dangerous, voice in an attempt to convey her displeasure.
Qui-Gon seemed to be taken aback by this display of sudden hostility from her, but she didn't particularly care. She just wanted him to leave her alone for just a few minutes.
"What do you mean?" asked a clearly astounded Qui-Gon, another emotion Belle only recognized after the fact.
"You!" she snapped, "You and your incessant need to breathe down my neck! You and the fact that you can't seem to leave me alone for a few minutes so I can get a moment's peace! You because all you seem to be capable of doing now is acting like some over-zealous guard dog! We used to be friends! We used to talk to each other, but now it seems as if you think I'm going to shatter at the slightest touch! I cannot stand the way you look at me anymore!"
She was panting. Belle had never quite been this much out of breath before, even after hours of rigorous training. Had she felt inclined to notice, she would have interpreted the flash in his eyes as a look of deep, profound and cutting, hurt. She didn't, though, and she crossed her arms and waited for him to actually come up with a coherent reply just so she could smash his argument into little pieces. Needless to say, the aftereffects of her depression were finally rearing its ugly head.
"Belle, I'm merely trying to protect you," he explained calmly though there was an edge to his tone that even the enraged princess detected.
She decided that the best course of action was to exploit that bit of emotion – whatever it was. It meant that she was finally breaking through his infuriatingly calm wall and for some reason that pleased her.
"Oh yes, let's give the pretty little fairy princess as little privacy as you possibly can because she's obviously too weak-minded to handle anything else. Stare at her like a strange, exotic animal tethered to a stage just to see when she'll crack next! Hover over her every move! Be sure that she never gains a moment's peace! She's too fragile right now to be alone with herself at this present time!" she snapped.
His gaze could have melted steel and Belle almost smiled in triumph. Finally! She managed to irk him as much as he was her!
He kept her voice calm and measured as he replied, "That, my lady, is not what I said."
"No, Sir Knight, it is what you are doing to me, right now! Even the others do not seem to be so adamant about keeping me in their sight as you seem to be!"
"Do you honestly think I treat you the way I do because I think you're weak?" Qui-Gon asked.
Bellethiel never claimed to be a patient person. She never aspired to be, but she wished she deigned to learn some.
"How can't I! I cannot walk a foot before you are there beside me watching me like I could trip and cause some sort of serious injury! You did so now, watching me eat like the slightest slip of my knife would end with my imminent demise! It's bled into our sparing matches for Beleghir's sake! I can beat on you for thirty to forty minutes without tiring and you never once retaliate! You used to fight with me during our matches! Now you dance around me! You treat me as if I am three steps away from shattering into a million pieces!" she retorted.
"My lady, it is my aim to protect you," he said after a few seconds of calmly breathing.
Belle did what she looked back as being the stupidest thing she could ever have done. She stood, crossed her arms, and marched a few feet away from him. The anger and resentment for her situation and for him because he couldn't understand why she felt the way she did had reached a boiling point. What came out of her mouth next was a direct result of that ire.
"If this is your idea of protection, then I'd rather be back in that cell you believed you rescued me from. I will not be treated like they had broken me," she said coldly.
She glanced over her shoulder to glare at him, resolved to show just how incensed she felt. His blue eyes made her resolve falter for a moment. She could see the raw flame of emotion surge in his expression and Bellethiel found that anything else she wanted to say caught in her throat. She saw hurt, anger, frustration, fear, and a growing hollowness that expanded with every abuse and accusation she threw at him.
Belle had expected him to reply to her, she did not expect him to stand. And stand he did in a regal move that Bellethiel knew she could never accomplish. That part of her that remembered her feelings for him that had developed over the course of several months ever since he arrived in Illearia admired him for his stature, the tilt of his head, and the squaring of his jaw and shoulders. Qui-Gon always seemed to put her off-balance whether she liked it or not and he had struck her dumb once again.
Suddenly her words, ire, and sense of self-righteousness caught up with her conscious and Belle felt the icy cold fingers of sheer horror sear through her veins. What in Illearia had she just done?
For a moment, she thought he was simply going to leave without having the final say in the argument, but he proved her wrong.
"They had broken you," he said, voice low and heavy with restraint.
With that he left her.
Her gaze didn't follow him to his quarters. She couldn't bring herself to look at him after that. Why did she yell at him?
She covered her face with her hands.
He hadn't deserved that. This was the man she loved! What sort of person treated the person who held their heart in such a way? She could have been rational, as she so prided herself for being, and she could have sat and talked with him. They had talked at first. He'd been there for her patiently waiting out her tears of distress and sorrow and held her when she needed him to. Qui-Gon had held her hand through the worse of this whole mess and she threw it back into his face.
Unable to face the padawan whenever he returned from whatever he was doing, Belle scurried off into her room. When the door clicked shut behind her, she fell against it and cried.
Qui-Gon had been close to tears only a few times in his life and once had they been nearly brought on because of a woman. He knew that he had probably been too extreme, but did she have to be so thoughtless and irrational about it? Didn't she know how she looked only a few weeks ago? Couldn't she remember the mental hell she went through in the tower that provoked her to injure herself just to keep sane?
He was angry, hurt, and strangely empty. The Force was little help. He needed another outlet. Tapping into that hidden magic he kept on such a tight leash since the rescue mission, Qui-Gon glared at the chair and desk in front of the window. The wood creaked and groaned before jagged cracks trailed up the smoothly polished oak. The offending furniture shattered and the pieces slowly began to crumble to dust.
In the end, once everything was forced into the size of an atom, Qui-Gon sunk onto his bed. A long, worn out, breath escaped him and he leaned forward into his left hand. He couldn't find it in himself to resent her, to be angry. It surprised him to realize that the bought of destruction he had caused wasn't anger, but all of the reeled in frustration he'd felt since she started distancing herself from him.
"Belle," he muttered then winced at the cracking of his voice.
His tone certainly reflected how he felt at that moment.
Professor Moruni had explicitly said that Bellethiel didn't deal with losing her loved ones very well. He also knew that she didn't like having her freedoms too restricted or feeling weak. He had been treating her like she was going to break. It felt natural to him to want to shield her from the any danger she was destined to face for the rest of her life. Every time he saw her, his mind replayed the image of her shrunken figure wasting away in her room waiting to die because she didn't feel like she mattered to the world.
Taking her out of this deep depression had placed her into a state of bi-polar mood swings and constant irrational musings. She also seemed to have a deep mistrust of other's intentions towards herself, something he didn't fully blame her for.
Any resentment that he felt died into exasperated frustration. He had to remember that, while Belle was being completely irrational in this situation, he hadn't exactly been helping either with how breakable he saw her. They also, for some reason or another, never spoke about how they felt about each other or, even, what he had went through looking for her and caring for her in the aftermath. It had been all about her healing her heart and mind, which was fine, but the focus had been too centered on her and less on the effect that her depression(s) had on those around her.
In retrospect, Qui-Gon understood that there were many things he should have done differently. Bellethiel hadn't been able to do anything other than wade back into the political hellhole that was her everyday life. She should have been in the city helping people, teaching students at the university, or even attending a few classes herself. She should have been socializing with elves her age and not all in the same social circle as she was. Throwing her back into their midst had been a mistake and both he and Obi-Wan should have known better. But, he guessed that the greatest reason they didn't understand this bit of logic was the fact that Jedi weren't raised this way. The Jedi were told to get back up after an appropriate amount of time for recovery and return to their work of keeping the peace within the galaxy. With that being said, Qui-Gon had observed how a few young padawans hadn't truly been ready for the transition when they were cast back into the field.
He would have blamed it on his ignorance if there had been any to be had. Qui-Gon knew better than to believe himself to be blind to her hiding the fact that she was still traumatized from her affair. His problem had been wanting her to get better as quickly as she could. That had been wrong, no matter how much it hurt him to see her in the state she was in, so lifeless and fragile, he should have treated her with the respect she deserved. He hadn't. He had been too selfish with her health to see.
With the animosity currently emanating from Belle, Qui-Gon decided that the best course of action was to remain a careful distance from her for a few days to let her cool down. Then he was going to speak with her.
As for Belle, the reader could find her three days after this event brooding in the gardens behind the palace walls hiding behind the great live oak that had been growing in the gardens ever since the settling of the planet. Her bronze hair fell about her shoulders and cascaded down her back in its normal unruly freestyle her mother hated so much because no one had ever been able to truly tame it. She wore a simple white tunic and grey leggings and neglected to don ay footwear. She needed the freedom of dress and look while she thought. Things, aspects, ideas, and her ever growing confusion had to be sorted out before she could even apologize to Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan had this weird look of understanding when she had asked him to allow her some time to think alone, so she figured that Qui-Gon had confided to him on some level. What sort of level that was, she didn't know and she almost felt compelled to ask, but thought better of it. She didn't have much of a right to know anything about the Jedi Master's private life when she abused what was obviously a show of compassionate concern for a friend to his face.
His blue eyes, the way they reflected so many emotions at once and all of them negative ones caused by her, haunted Belle's waking moment for the last few days. What made it worse was that he hadn't really been doing anything other than eating dinner when she finally blew up at him. All it took, apparently, was one wrong look in her direction for her to just lose it.
Tears pricked the rim of her eyes and she made an attempt to wipe them away, but failed. They flowed in trails freely down her pale cheeks with every memory of that night.
Qui-Gon had helped her, diligently, to make it out of the depression she had fallen in to after Lorn's death. The problem was that she never truly had a chance to leave that depression behind and she had ended up falling into a state of growing irritation at everyone and everything that slightly annoyed her. Qui-Gon just happened to be the person she took it out on. In a sense, she saw how that was probably a good thing. The last thing she needed to do was start insulting someone like Senator Palpatine. She already had enough enemies in court and she wasn't too keen on making any from the Republic.
Still this had been Qui-Gon, the man who made her breath stop whenever she saw him. The man who was the only one (other than Professor Moruni and Maf) who could connect with Sila. Her friend, guide, guard, and… he was the person she fell in love with. How many times had she tried to deny that? Belle felt like she had lost count. She had been so focused against not falling for anyone, especially not a Jedi, that she ended up doing so. Of course she saw the attraction that had evidently been there on her part. Qui-Gon was an easy man to become attracted to by personality alone. His presence was strong and comforting at the same time. His physic was merely a reflection of his personality and his skill with weaponry and his ever-growing knowledge revealed a concealed passion that obviously existed. The man was kind, compassionate, patient, and so gentle. He dedicated himself fully to whatever he put his mind to no matter what it was and she scorned that. She had scorned him despite knowing for a while that she did love him.
Belle shifted her position behind the large tree and moved to lay down on the soft, green, pear grass some renowned elven scientist discovered thousands of years prior. She couldn't remember his name at that moment.
It was on that note when she allowed the cold breeze of the mid-fall weather to lull her into a doze. The sun shining through the leafy branches of the live oak she lay under could do that to a person.
Qui-Gon had been walking into the gardens intending to clear his head when he came upon Obi-Wan sitting on one of the park benches wrapped tightly in one of the grey elven cloaks the Queen had provided them for the winter. Despite his own troubled state, the older man was curious as to what the princess (she was the only fathomable reason he could think of his apprentice being out in cold weather) was doing. He approached Obi-Wan who nodded in his direction with a wan smile. While the boy didn't look like he was going to suffer from hypothermia, it was obvious that he had been out in the cold for a little bit too long.
He sighed. It seemed that it wasn't the will of whoever was truly in charge to allow him to continue in his self-isolation from the headstrong elf princess.
"Obi-Wan, go warm up in our rooms, I will take over from here," Qui-Gon said.
His apprentice looked worried for a moment as he asked, "Are you sure, master?"
Qui-Gon's eyes searched for wherever the princess would end up being in the gardens, but didn't find any sign of her. This, he knew, didn't mean she wasn't in the area, it simply meant that she wanted people to leave her alone. He nodded absentmindedly while sifting through various plausible hiding spots for her highness to take refuge in. His eyes fell on the wide, spindled, Live Oak tree that covered one half of a pond within the garden close. If there was anyplace she would be, it would be there.
"Go rest, Obi-Wan, I have been neglecting my duties again and for that I apologize," he said sincerely.
An uneasy pause passed between them as Obi-Wan sat looking up at his master before the padawan stood. He dusted himself off and made as he were about to leave, but stopped for some odd reason and returned his attention to his master.
"I do support your love for her, master," he said hesitantly.
Qui-Gon smiled wryly, "Thank you, Obi-Wan, but I doubt there will be a need for support. It is something that could never be."
"I wouldn't gamble everything just yet, master," Obi-Wan said before leaving.
The Jedi Master stood and thought about what his apprentice said for a while. Obi-Wan, he knew, always had a better view of the bigger picture and future events than he ever did. Qui-Gon could look into the future, see the patterns that wove the force into the most logical pathways from that certain point he was looking from. He just was never able to focus in on the most plausible. Looking into the future was a gamble when one wasn't a prophetess/seer of the Triune named Ailya.
Shaking himself from the ponderings of seer techniques, Qui-Gon moved to where he knew Bellethiel was apt to most effectively hide. He found her behind the tree in front of the lake, clad in nothing but a simple tunic and leggings, a vision in white and grey, with her bronze hair pooling about her like a halo. When he saw her like this, in her most vulnerable, all previous frustrations (most of which were already leaving him) disappeared entirely. It did well for him to remember that she was vulnerable and innocent (as she could be for someone a century old).
He knelt beside her and reached down with his rough, calloused, hand to stroke her fair cheek that glowed even in the face of the slowly greying world around her. The movement, he knew, would gently wake her from wherever her mind took her in the world of dreams. He continued to stroke her smooth cheek, unable to help himself.
Her teal eyes fluttered open and she blinked up at him before her cheeks turned bright red and she sat up.
"Qui-Gon, you are… here?" there was a touch of nervousness in her voice.
"Yes, I relieved Obi-Wan," he explained.
She nodded and looked away from him, biting her lip while doing so. This gesture, he knew, was a sign of nervousness on her account.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Eh…"
Watching on in amazed astonishment he waited for her to continue. Whatever it was she felt she had to say was most likely important.
"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier this week," she said softly.
"I forgave you soon after the argument," he reassured her.
She turned to look at him again, meeting his eyes with her entrancing teal orbs.
"I regretted everything I said shortly after you left," she said.
He cupped the cheek he had previously caressed and slid his thumb along the rise of the bone.
"Don't let it bother you anymore, Belle, I forgive you."
She looked as if she was about to add something, but seemed to think better of it as she leaned into the palm of his hand.
"And I ask for you to forgive me," he began and hastily continued before she could interject, "I was selfishly invested in making everything as it was before that I overlooked one, small detail."
"Detail?"
She sounded so confused that his heartbeat skyrocketed and he felt lightheaded, the goo kind of lightheaded. Her parted pink lips gaped. Her body was slack, not tense, not building with anger, only confusion. This was encouragement for him to keep going.
"The worse place for you to recover was here."
She smiled and he breath caught. He'd never seen that particular smile before, not from her, and it was directed at him.
"No matter your methods, I had no right to take everything out on you like that. You helped me fight my darkness. You helped to bring me out of it. I should not have been so insensitive to your feelings. There is nothing for you to apologize for," she said.
He stared at her for what seemed like a long while. She touched his hand that was on her cheek with hers and reached out with her other to clasp his tunic. Her eyes were pleading, vulnerable.
"Sit with me, let me lean against you," it wasn't a question, but it was phrased as more a request then an order.
He moved, situating himself against the tree before guiding her small form against his side and encircling an arm around her waist. The hand that had previously cupped her cheek moved to clasp her hand still latched onto his tunic. He laced his fingers with hers and gently rubbed his thumb along the side of her hand. Qui-Gon breathed her in and allowed her forest scent to engulf him.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked.
She nodded as her head descended into a position she felt was most comfortable against his chest. A soft smile graced her lips.
"Yes, just like this, with you. For as long as is necessary."
Could anyone blame him that, after a while, he grazed the top of her head with a light kiss? He wasn't sure if she noticed or not. Belle seemed to have fallen asleep again after five minutes. No one bothered them and he wasn't inclined to move.
To be continued...