People don't understand the life of a princess, Zeijkk thought as she stared at herself in the mirror.
Even the title irked her – princess. What a sallow, limp-wristed title. Only when she married her betrothed, Zusff, the Crown Prince of the Water Tribe, would she be given the title of Divine Queen. Now, there was a title worth having! Divine Queen – once every hundred years, the Water Tribe and the Earth Tribe betrothed their firstborn son and daughter to each other at birth. And when the time came to rule, they would be crowned Divine Queen and King, with their desires and commands hailed has prophecies and law. It was a curious way to restore order, but it had worked very well over the millennia, resulting in mostly peaceful negotiations and stable living conditions. Of course, the betrothed couples were exposed to each other as frequently as possible, but since Zusff lived by the wild, untamed oceans many miles away, and Zeijkk resided in her glossy marble palace, the two had met a total of ten times over the course of their lives. She found her betrothed to be a fine young man, with good morals, but he was weak. Smart, intellectual, and brawny, but weak. He had no thirsting for power, not the way she did. He would do nothing but coo endearments to her whenever they talked, and refused to talk of politics, and religion, and anything of depth. So she wrote him off as an idiot and publically fawned over him, while internally she brooded. She looked at herself in her mirror, the trim edged with polished ebony. She had the face of a queen, she knew, but the title of a princess. Pah! What a despicable title. When she was Divine Queen, she would abolish the title altogether, and give them something a little more regal. Perhaps Young Councilor. Yes, that sounded strong.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a brisk, rapid knock on her door. "Enter," She said, still studying her reflection and going over titles in her head. But her eyes flicked to the doorway when she heard the door hiss shut. Standing just inside her room, those queer green eyes half-lowered respectfully and her dark eyebrows raised, stood La'Ana, her Guardian. She liked her Guardian, thought her to be capable and thorough, but she had too many secrets. Secrets were something Zeijkk feared, something only she could have. When you didn't know people's true intentions, the shadows clouded your thoughts and things could sneak up on you, assassinate you while you stood trembling. No, when she was Divine Queen, she would force every member of her cabinet to reveal their truest, darkest secrets, and if they didn't, she would find them out for herself. They would discover what true power was, true fear. Ana turned her head to the side and the corner of her mouth tugged downwards.
Zeijkk was a smart child – too smart, in Ana's opinion. She had been with the Daal since childhood, almost raised the girl, but none of the Jedi morals and ethics seemed to stick to her. In everything she did, she wanted to do it again, and better, faster, stronger, deeper. Anything to be better than anyone else. Ana hadn't seen a person so apt to staying to the Dark Side before, and privately thought that it would do everyone extreme good if someone would just give her a spanking. But she was the Crown Princess, and no one would lay a finger on her, of course. Ana quirked her mouth in a smile and approached her Charge. "Princess, you are not ready for your own gathering?" Ana said in mock surprise. "Really, Your Highness, you ought to know better."
The Crown Princess tossed her blonde curls over her shoulders and raised her eyebrows, tilting her childish face to the side and pouting. "I don't want to go," She said pettishly. "They're only Jedi, after all. The Council can welcome them, for all I care. And they don't need to be here." She said, but followed Ana over to her closet, just the same.
"Now, Princess, you know the Jedi are here for your protection," Ana said, rummaging through the vast amount of satins and silks in her Charge's closet. A decade separated them; ten years and about a hundred miles of fabric and thousands of pounds of jewels. "Your father is a very forceful person, and he wanted to make sure you were not swept off by that...bandit."
The Princess snorted. "The Mockingbird isn't a bandit at all, just a stupid person who thinks stealing will give him power," She said.
"He kidnapped your friend, Aja, and held him hostage for six days," Ana reminded her quietly. Zeijkk curled her lip derisively.
"Aja has never been very smart," She said, and pointed to one of the dresses. "There. The silver one. We'll match, make it look like you're my older sister instead of my Guardian." Her tone was one of a magistrate conferring a great favor, and Ana accepted it with barely a ripple of facial expression. Inwardly, she wanted nothing more than to shake some respect into her, but kept it to herself. She loved the child, no matter how spoiled she was.
The silver dress was lacy and shiny, and a slippery pearl instead of Ana's charcoal, but the gesture was what counted. Ana turned away while the girl changed – with the typical lack of modesty that all children somehow possess, she stripped to her underwear and proceeded to wander about the room, musing to her Guardian and herself. "But the Mockingbird could stand to be a little smarter, too," Zeijkk said, touching the sleek mother-of-pearl handles on her hairbrushes. "I mean, stripping carriages and caravans of their loot is one thing, but holding a boy hostage for no reason whatsoever? That's just stupid."
"Perhaps he had a greater reason," Ana said, and then began folding the clothes the Princess had left in a puddle on the floor. "Perhaps we don't know people's true intentions until we truly know them."
"And we can never know a person truly, yes, yes, I know," Zeijkk said with a bite of impatience in her voice. "More of your Jedi wisdom. You've said it before."
"Have I?" Ana said demurely, hanging Zeijkk's clothes in her closet. "I don't remember."
"You said it once before, I believe," Zeijkk said sourly, finally pulling the silver dress over her head. "And I despise being told things twice."
Ana held her out at arm's length and surveyed her. The dress was modest and silky, pretty and, as with most of the fashionable clothing on Daluba, accented with rhinestones. Anything that glittered or shone was pasted onto their clothing, and they took as much delight in mining it from the ground as they did in wearing it. The dress matched Zeijkk's eyes perfectly, making them seem even more wintery and icy, despite her childish face and height. Her long, glossy golden curls bounced around her cherubic cheeks, and Ana smiled at her. "I know you do. And you look lovely, Princess." She said softly.
Zeijkk shook off the compliment. "Come on, La'Ana. Let's go meet these Jedi who are supposed to protect me from this...phantom."
The dining hall in the palace had been decked out for the occasion, with crystal and silver on the tables polished to a high sheen. The multiple chandeliers in the room sparkled in the light, and guests were already beginning to file inside. A few of the women were clutching Pookas, which were the fashionable new pet these days. Privately, Ana thought they looked like pink fluffy footstools, but she wasn't allowed to say anything more, so she kept it to herself. Guardians ate at a separate table, away from their Charges, and Ana bid farewell to Zeijkk when they reached the High Table. Zeijkk's father, a fat old man – who looked like a pudgy thirteen year old – greeted his daughter warmly and kissed both cheeks. A boy with messy blonde hair and alert green eyes was sitting, poised and tense, at the edge of the table. He was Aja, Zeijkk's friend, but considering he was five years younger than she, the two didn't talk much these days. Ana smoothed her skirt over her legs and sat quietly at the table, her eyes fastened on her young Charge. Like most Guardians, she had developed an attachment that was unusually strong for most people – but not at all strong for Ana, who tended to be as mistrustful as a scalded cat for the first few months, and then turned into a leg-clinger.
"Pardon, Guardian La'Ana, but are you all right?" Came a voice near her elbow. She didn't jump or betray any sign of alarm, but inwardly she kicked herself for allowing someone to sneak up on her. Her reflexes were abnormally fast for everyday people, but for a Jedi they were rather slow. She suspected this stemmed from her weak connection to the Living Force. Turning, she saw the sharp, angular face of Guardian Lhar, an older man who was sly but seemed nice enough to Ana. There was a lingering mistrust about him, though – but that was probably because she didn't know him very well. She forced a smile and reflexively pushed her fingers against her injured hip.
"Perfectly fine, thank you, Lhar," She said. "Which Jedi are coming to protect my Charge, do you know?"
His silver brows drew together and he shrugged. "They had some very unusual names, that's all I know," He said. "Silly, it seemed to me. And there's supposed to be a trainee, which I found very alarming. I don't think they ought to bring people who don't know what they're doing on important missions, don't you think so?" He said. He, like most Guardians, wanted to hear a political, safe answer from Ana, which would most likely be agreement. But her teeth flashed in a wolverine smile that had just a hint too much condescension in it.
"Jedi Knights are often assigned Padawans to instruct and mentor," She said, raising a flute of nonalcoholic liquid to her lips and sipping it lightly. "How better to learn than to bring them into the real world?"
There was too much bitterness in the man's eyes, but Ana hid her smug, satisfied smile in her drink. She liked riling the other Guardians – most of them were so afraid to speak their mind they forgot how to actually think for themselves. Ten years hadn't corrupted Ana yet, and she supposed one more dinner party with a bunch of these pompous old farts wouldn't budge her. "Indeed," Lhar said, a bit too tightly. Ana downed the rest of her drink and the next few moments passed in uncomfortable silence as the last of the guests filed in. The Jedi pair would be the guests of honor, of course, so they would arrive last and be seated at the High Table with the King and Queen.
The noise in the room had rose to an almost comfortable drone when the doors banged open, startling everyone into silence. Two lone figures strode efficiently down the center of the room, and they were so quick that they were halfway to the High Table before people gathered their wits to applaud. The taller of the pair turned and waved his hand once, dipping his head as if to silence the crowd, and it did, eerily and completely. The King stood – his large girth stretching through the elasticity of his tunic – and smiled at the pair. "Welcome, Jedi! You have our most heartfelt felicitations and cheerful salutations from all of Daluba! Please, join me and my family at the High Table, to dine and to discuss business."
The next words made Ana turn dead white.
"Thank you, Your Highness. I am Jedi Knight Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Her breath wouldn't rise to her throat; her heart felt stuck in her chest, startled into stillness.
"Well, you are very welcome, Master Jinn," the King said cheerfully, ignoring his Padawan completely. "Allow me to introduce my daughter, Crown Princess Zeijkk, and her Guardian, La'Ana Walker."
The older Jedi turned to fast Ana didn't even have time to rise. She didn't even think she could rise – her whole body was encased in ice. The two locked eyes, and her heart, which hadn't even begun beating again, squeezed tightly. Oh, Force, those eyes...Those rich smoky discs, dark cerulean smoked with silver, that broad chest and wide shoulders, limbs edged with steel muscles. His regal, noble profile, crooked though it was, and those eyes, riveted her, kept the breath from her body. Sith, he was here, in front of her, and every scar she thought had melted away suddenly tore back into her heart, searing and branding her soul with claws of malice and cruelty.
The boy next to him – Sith, he had taken another Padawan? And he brought him here? The boy was young, so very young, so freshly painted with trust and innocence which would be just shorn from him as life roughened his years. He bowed respectfully, and he frightened her, terrified her even, in that simple motion. Qui-Gon had taken on another Padawan, and he had moved on, leaving her lost in a tormented whirlwind of unraveled emotions. Had he lied to her, then? When he said that he loved her, did he mean temporarily? He had betrayed her, killed her, by taking on another Padawan. She was still in mourning from losing Wathearu and Qui-Gon – how could he go through three Padawans? Was it nothing more than a game to him? Did he not have any emotional attachment whatsoever? He had slain her as easily as pulling a knife across her throat by bringing a new Padawan here, like a child showing off a toy to another.
His large, calloused hands folded into his sleeves and he bowed slightly, never taking his eyes from hers, and she saw he was just as shocked and frightened and scarred as she was at that moment. In his deep, rumbling, baritone voice, that voice which rippled with silk around the growl which naturally tinged his tones, he said nine words which rocked her world back on its axis.
"How very lovely to make your acquaintance, La'Ana Walker."
A/N: Okay! Before you even review and tell me what you think, you *WILL* go look at this amazing, kick-butt fanarts drawn by that talented artist Syrtis. (Uses Jedi mind trick) The links are on my profile, so be sure to go there straight away and drool over them, just like I did. Oh, and then you *WILL* come back and tell me what you think of this chapter (Uses Jedi mind trick again). xD And no, Ana's name change is not a mistake. It'll be explained later.
Questions: Who do you think the Mockingbird is? Who do you think will be more receptive of Ana; Qui-Gon, or Obi-Wan? Do you think Lhan is a sleaze or a jerk? xD
