Chapter Twenty-Six: The Solstice Ball

Midwinter's day lasted a meagre five hours in the city of Aldera, and darkness had long since shrouded the Royal Palace by the time Viceroy Bail and Queen Breha Organa delivered the speeches that formally opened the Solstice Ball. Inside, the Grand Ballroom was the epitome of sumptuous elegance. Blue and silver silk cascaded like frozen waterfalls from the windows. Shimmering stars adorned the walls, reflecting the light from a dozen grand chandeliers. At the centre of the room stood an enormous tree, slung with row upon row of tiny lights, its feathery foliage exuding the fresh, slightly spicy fragrance of pine.

Chloe and Matty had been on Alderaan for two days, and for two days there had been no sign of Obi-Wan. Hope was not lost, however: Matty's tactful but persistent enquiries had yielded confirmation—from Bail Organa's personal valet, no less— that yes, Master Kenobi was on planet, on retreat, somewhere in the mountains north of the city, but that no, he was not expected at the palace, at least not until the evening of the Solstice Ball itself.

Which was right about now. Chloe stood by the doorway of the ballroom, watching the crowd, trying to not look like she was watching the crowd. She raised a nervous hand to wind one finger in her hair, but then stopped when she remembered her earlier, very expensive visit to a city hairstylist, the artful waves he had coaxed into her dead-straight locks, and the tiny jewels he had woven there afterwards. She shifted on her feet instead, her floor-length dress rustling disturbingly around her legs.

"Any sign?"

Chloe greeted Matty with a shake of the head. "You neither?"

"Don't worry. It's still early," Matty said. "Come on, let's get a drink."

They circulated, people-watching, drinking very little, grazing on the delicacies laid out on buffet tables along one wall of the room. Or, in Chloe's case, pretending to graze; she struggled to chew a single morsel, her central nervous system apparently having taken on the qualities of the colourful, mountainous, gelatinous puddings that trembled delicately on the desert table. Only her eyes moved with coordination and purpose: scanning the room, searching for his face or that familiar flash of brown and beige amongst the fine suits and state gowns.

Once the buffet had been consumed, the orchestral ensemble began tuning up and serving staff discreetly cleared chairs, tables and discarded glasses and plates to make space for dancing. The music began, a lively folk tune, Chloe noticed Matty's foot tapping.

"Go on," she said. "Why don't you go for it? I'm sure you'll not be short on offers."

Matty looked longingly toward the amassing couples. "I don't know. I should keep a low profile. Bail won't be very impressed to find me here."

Chloe put her hands on her hips. "Why should you be the one to hide? Surely he'll find it in his heart to forgive you, given the spirit of the occasion?"

Matty smiled ruefully. "Not a chance. You're right, though, I shouldn't have to hide from him. But you'd better come too, just in case."

"Oh no. No way." Chloe frowned towards the dancers twirling gracefully to the music. "Jumping around in a club is one thing. That is quite something else."

Matty grabbed her hand. "Okay, just walk over there with me, then. You can take a turn around the room while I'm busy. It's getting crowded; you could miss him if you stay here."

Several songs later, still alone and beginning to feel downhearted, Chloe's wanderings led her back to the edge of the dance floor again, where she stopped to admire the old-fashioned grace of the dance being performed.

"The Alderaanian waltz," an elderly lady next to her said. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Chloe nodded, smiling as she noticed the jewels woven into the woman's hair matched those in her own.

"The dance originated in a time when hand-to-hand contact was deemed too suggestive," the woman went on, seeming to be delighted that someone had taken an interest. "Instead of the normal position where hands are clasped together, the lady's right hand is placed on top of her left, which rests on her partner's right shoulder. This requires both partners to be perfectly coordinated. It is a skill not easily learned." She waved a thin hand at the dancers.

Chloe turned back to watch the couples, who tilted and twirled as one. "It's very elegant," she said. "I'm sure I could never do—"

Her eye was caught by a flash of coppery-gold. Her heart tremoured. "Sorry," she muttered, forgetting all about the old lady and setting off, skirting as close as she could to the edge of the dance floor.

Over at the far side, she spotted the wine-red silk of Matty's dress, and yes, that was Matty, and she was dancing with a man whose back was towards her, and his hair was the right colour, but cut too short, and although he was about Obi-Wan's height, he was wearing a dark gray Alderaanian-style suit, and so it couldn't be him, and now Matty was whispering something to him, and he was turning around—

And Chloe froze.

She saw her friend wink, and then Matty and everything else faded into the background, and there was only Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan, standing rock-still amidst the dancers, occasionally buffeted as they passed him, oblivious to their confused looks.

Chloe smiled at him, out of amusement, relief, joy, and sheer amazement.

Finally realising he was just a little bit in the way, Obi-Wan looked left and right, and then smiled back at her, somehow managing to frown at the same time. He made his way over, skilfully avoiding the dancing couples, and stopped an arm's reach away.

"Chloe? What… I mean, why...?"

"Hello," she said, taking just a little bit of delight in his surprise. "Nice suit." She waved a hand at his elegant, tastefully expensive outfit, and took in his expertly-trimmed hair: shorter at the back and sides than she was used to, but long enough at the front to be stylishly unkempt.

Obi-Wan brushed away a few loose strands of hair from his forehead and then frowned down at his jacket. "Ah. Bail let his personal dresser loose on me. I'm not sure it was a good idea."

Chloe was unable to suppress a grin. "Don't worry. I get the feeling he knew exactly what he was doing."

Obi-Wan gave her a look of blank incomprehension, coughed, and changed the subject. "So. What brings you here? Rather a long way to travel for a party, isn't it?"

"Matty didn't tell you?"

"She said very little, other than sorry, although I've no idea what for."

Just then the music finished, and everyone about them applauded enthusiastically.

"Long story," Chloe shouted, over the noise. "Can we find somewhere more private?"

The problem was, they couldn't. The Solstice Ball was the most important event of the most important festival of the Alderaanian calendar. The palace was crammed with people. Every door they opened, hoping to find a deserted corridor or a study or a private office, revealed yet another function room, and another crowd.

Which was how they ended up in the palace gardens, ankle-deep in snow.

Chloe smiled, filled with wonder. "It must have fallen in the past couple of hours," she said, bending to sift her fingers through the soft, powdery crystals. "I've never seen snow before."

Chivalrous as ever, Obi-Wan offered Chloe his jacket. She refused. The truth was, in spite of her bare shoulders, she really couldn't feel the cold. Her skin was burning with a heady mixture of excitement, fear and intense nervous anticipation.

They took a path that skirted the perimeter of the palace, walking in silence for a while, but Chloe knew she could not draw this out much longer. She could almost feel Obi-Wan's patience wearing thin.

"Obi-Wan…" she managed, before pausing, her mouth already dry.

Come on Chloe, you know how he feels about you. You can do this. You can say it.

Another breath. "I came here because I need to tell you something."

"Well it's rather long way to come, are you unwell? "

"No."

"In danger?"

"No."

"Then what's the matter? You're not…" He stopped walking, his face suddenly apprehensive.

"No," she said, realising, shaking her head, smiling, almost laughing. "I'm not pregnant."

"Then what by the stars do you need to tell me?"

She set off again. "Something I should have told you a long time ago."

A sudden, delicate coldness tickled her shoulder, then her nose, then her cheek. She glanced up.

It's snowing. It's only kriffing snowing.

"Chloe, are you planning to wait until we both freeze to our—"

"I love you."

There, it was done. No going back. She didn't look at him, not yet."I'm in love with you," she said, rushing onwards, not giving him time to reply. "I think I have been since we first spend the night together. I so very nearly told you, countless times, but I just didn't… just couldn't. I'm sorry."

The way was barred by a door. The path had turned back towards the building. The door was locked. There was nowhere left to run. Chloe bit her lip and faced Obi-Wan.

To find happiness. A wonderful, crumpled smile of unrestrained happiness.

But after only a couple of seconds, it had been replaced by concern, and worry. "Chloe, you—"

She held up a hand. "Please, wait. Hear me out. Don't worry; I know why you're here. I know you intend to take the celibacy vow; I know your plans don't include me. But I also know how you argued my case with the Council, after Tatooine, and how you reacted after we split. I know that your feelings for me were—perhaps still are—stronger than I realised. I'm here because… because if there's any chance you might change your mind, knowing how I feel… well I can't let that chance slip away."

Obi-Wan was silent for a long time.

Then he said, quietly, "Anakin told you."

"Yes."

"He had no right to do that."

"He cares about you. And he only told me because I called him to ask why you'd come here. Oh, Obi-Wan , why couldn't you just have told me yourself?"

"I could ask the same of you."

"I was scared. Falling in love… it's not allowed, for you, is it? I didn't want you to be angry with me. I didn't want to lose you because of it. In the end, I couldn't cope being with you and knowing—believing— you could never feel the same way. I'm sorry."

He sighed. "Please, don't apologise. I'm surprised. Flattered. Honoured."

Flattered? That doesn't sound good. That sounds bad. Very bad. She took a breath. "And?"

Obi-Wan took a step closer. He hooked a finger around a lock of her hair, and smiled sadly, running his thumb along the length until it slipped away. "I thought I was dreaming. Tonight, when I turned and saw you. It was like a dream."

"Then… was Anakin… right?"

Let me in, Obi-Wan, please. Just let your guard down, for a second. Tell me the truth. I'm dying here.

"Yes." He raised his hand again, hesitantly, as if he were uncertain what to do with it. Very gently, he grazed the back of his fingers over her cheek. "He was right. Is right."

It was a confession that should have filled her with unbridled joy, but he looked so sad she wanted to cry for him instead.

No fanfare. No music. No stars falling from heaven.

Obi-Wan shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to her. "I really wish you'd take my blasted coat."

"Okay."

They retraced their steps until they rejoined the perimeter path. Obi-Wan's head was bowed in thought. "There," he said, after a while. "Let's try that door."

It was a conservatory, a hothouse, in the summer months perhaps. Now the temperature was only a few degrees warmer than the garden, and the room appeared to be in use as a temporary larder. Trestle tables practically groaned under the weight of dishes of food, all carefully wrapped and labelled. Below the tables stood what must have amounted to thousands of bottles of wine.

"So," said Chloe. "What now?"

Obi-Wan lifted both her cold hands and held them between his, that same sad smile on his face. "You're frozen."

She intertwined their fingers, gripping tightly. "Obi-Wan. Please. Talk to me. Tell me what you want. Tell me the truth."

He sighed. "The truth… is that what I want is irrelevant."

"Because of the Code?"

There was a long pause before he answered. "No. I don't believe so."

"Oh. I thought perhaps you doubted—"

"No," he interrupted. " I don't. Not now." He took in her confused expression. "Did Anakin explain what I've been doing here?"

"Meditating?"

"Yes. Mediating, straightening my thoughts… and I find no conflict between my feelings for you and the will of the Force. I may have acted on instinct on a number of occasions, and I may have made personal errors of judgment, but I do not believe I have broken my vows because of you. That is my interpretation. Of course, interpretation is subjective."

"What's the problem then? The Council?"

Another pause. "The night of the bombings, when I set off for you, there was no time to consult them. In fact, as you know, Dooku stipulated that I should not communicate with anyone. Nevertheless, certain members of the Council seem to believe I abandoned my post to rescue you… that I had put my personal desire to protect you ahead of my duty. When they raised their concerns in the Council meeting, I had to concede that I couldn't reflect on what happened objectively. It is perfectly true that I can't step away from my personal involvement with you. They see that as a weakness."

"So they ordered you to take the celibacy vow?"

"No. Only a minority made these accusations. But they see the vow as a guarantee—a way to assuage their doubts. A way to ensure that if I did make a mistake, I will not do so again."

Frustration flared in Chloe's chest, kindled into full flame and burst forth from her lips. "Is that what's really important to you? Being flawless, in the eyes of every single Council member? Did it never occur to you that they might be less than flawless themselves?"

Obi-Wan's expression was stony. He raised an eyebrow.

That look said one thing only. Who are you to judge them?

Chloe clenched her hands into fists and turned away, forcing herself to take a few calming breaths. Instinct told her gentleness was the approach she needed here. Not conflict. Obi-Wan needed encouragement, it seemed, to be confident in himself. To separate the will of the Force from the will of the Council. Or a minority of the Council—and she fully suspected that was his diplomatic way of referring to Mace Windu. She was beginning to understand those who derided the Jedi Order as little more than a religious cult.

So she must treat this Jedi, this warrior, this military leader, with gentleness. Whoever would have thought that?

She turned to face him. "I'm sorry," she said, quietly. "I know how well respected the Council members are. I know I can't understand what it is to be in your position… but you are not a Padawan, Obi-Wan. You are a respected Jedi Master, a General, and a war hero, whether you want to believe it or not. Surely there are some situations where you can put your own judgement first?"

"You sound exactly like my old Master."

"Sensible man."

Obi-Wan shook his head, and Chloe found, to her relief, that he was smiling. "Far from it, I'm afraid. But he also had an irritating habit of being right."

"And what would he advise you to do now?"

Obi-Wan thought for a moment, his eyes distant, then chuckled. "He would tell me I was quite capable of working that out for myself. And that, if I really thought about it, I'd find I already had."

She stepped closer to him, hope rising. "So..?"

But his face was grave once again. "There is another problem. One that displeasing the Council will not solve."

"Tell me."

"I can't give you what you deserve."

She rolled her eyes. "You seriously believe that?"

"No, I am serious. Deadly serious. Think about it: merely associating with me puts you in danger, yet I'm not free to protect you from that danger. When Dooku captured you—we were lucky, that time, but what about the next time? Chloe, I would put your life before mine in a heartbeat, but what I cannot do is choose you over my duty to the Jedi Order, and to winning this war. I can't promise to keep you safe. I can't even promise to be alive tomorrow."

"I know that."

"But you must see that I can't make you happy. I didn't make you happy. You told me yourself that my world was too much, that you couldn't fit into it."

"It was different then. I didn't know how you felt. I thought you didn't feel, most of the time. I didn't understand you."

"But what happens when you want to settle down? Marriage, family, a reliable partner, a steady life?"

"Obi-Wan, we are at war! You said you couldn't promise to be alive tomorrow… well neither can I. We're living in the moment. Day-to-day. I can't think about the future any more than you can. And I am just as committed to winning this war as you are. Don't you see I have more reason that ever to feel that way now I have my father's mistakes on my conscience, too?"

"Are you saying what we had is enough for you?"

She put both hands on his arms, locking eyes with him. "I miss you. I need you. I am quite unreasonably desperate for what we had, yes. I wish you would respect me enough to accept that, and not be so arrogant as to assume you know better."

"And what if I were to say that you can't make me happy, that you should leave now before… before…" He paused, his warm breath fanning her lips.

"Before?" She leaned in. She couldn't help it.

He raised a hand and traced a circle on her cheek with his thumb. "Before we do something we both regret."

"Don't do that."

He repeated the motion on her cheek, slower this time, and it felt as though sparks were igniting on her skin. "That?" he whispered.

"No," she murmured, struggling to speak. "I meant don't lie to me."

"Chloe." His mouth dipped towards her a fraction, then he closed his eyes and backed off again.

Her fingers tightened on his arms. "Please. Just tell me, while I have few shreds of dignity left, if you want this. If you want me."

"I—" Obi-Wan began, then stopped, his hand dropping away from her face. "Oh, not now…"

"Obi-Wan! This is where you've been hiding!"

Chloe jerked around in alarm at the loud, male voice to find Bail Organa striding towards them. He glanced to Chloe then back to Obi-Wan. "Ah, am I interrupting? Hope not. I don't believe we've met."

The Prince and Viceroy of Alderaan, resplendent in rich blue robes trimmed with silver, grinned at her and held out his hand.

Registering Obi-Wan's long exhale, Chloe managed a mumbled hello and a limp handshake.

"Chloe O'Brian, Bail Organa," Obi-Wan said, with a curt, clearly irritated flick of his hand.

Bail seemed either unaware or unperturbed. "Old friend, I'm here on important business. The Queen has requested your presence. I believe you owe her a dance."

"I'm a little busy, just at the moment."

Bail flashed Obi-Wan a roguish smile. "Ah, Obi-Wan, where is your festive spirit? Besides, to refuse the Queen would be treason, and I'm afraid I would be forced to have you executed."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "I'm serious, Bail. Could you please send Breha my apologies—"

"It's okay," Chloe said, "It's freezing in here, anyway; I need to warm up." She linked her arm through Obi-Wan's and steered him in the direction of the door. "And I'd hate you to lose your head over me."

Chloe managed to duck out of Bail's gallant offer to accompany her in the dance, and settled herself at the side of the dance floor, watching Obi-Wan dance with the Queen, watching everyone else watching them. Obi-Wan did not catch her eye. He wore that distant, serene expression that he used to hide the very deepest contemplation.

So he was thinking it over. Chloe bit her lip. She had said her piece, had presented her argument to Obi-Wan as best as she could. Now it was a question of whether he really wanted to be with her: whether he trusted she was truly prepared to accept the limitations of his situation, and whether he was prepared to defy Mace Windu and the other Council hard-liners.

Chloe tore her eyes away from the dancers, scanning the room for Matty. But her friend was nowhere to be seen. She was relieved, in a way, because Matty would almost certainly have expected her to have working things out with Obi-Wan by now, have got an answer one way or another, and she would probably be acutely disappointed that the situation had not yet been resolved. Perhaps it would have been, if it were not for blasted Bail Organa and his terrible timing.

The music had stopped. Chloe turned back to see the dancers parting, bowing, curtseying, laughing, kissing hands. She spotted the Queen, surrounded by courtiers, but where was Obi-Wan? There was no sign of him. Her heart thudded. She frowned, searching the crowd, panic beginning to rise when she still couldn't see Obi-Wan. He wouldn't have slipped away, would he, without finishing their conversation?

Something touched her arm.

"Chloe."

She spun round at the sound of his voice, a smile breaking across her face. "There you are! I thought for a moment you'd left."

"Never." Before she had time to realise what he was doing, Obi-Wan had cupped her face in both his hands and was pressing a single, soft kiss to her lips.

Breathless, she looked up at him. "So you…?" was all she could manage.

"If you're certain this is what you want." he said, quietly serious, his hands still on her face.

She had never been more certain in her life. "Yes."

"Then so am I," he said, smiling that wonderful crumpled smile, dipping his head to deposit another kiss on her lips. "So am I."

"Everyone to the floor for the country four-step!" came the shout from someone behind them. The music started up again: a bright, lively tune, and a ripple of a cheer went around the room as people jostled towards the dance floor.

Obi-Wan held out his hand. "Well?"

Chloe's brain caught up. "Oh no, I couldn't. I can't."

Obi-Wan grinned at her. "Everyone has to dance to this one. I'm not sure you can get out of it."

She took his hand, reluctantly. "Let me guess. Treason again?"

He bent to whisper in her ear as they walked. "Don't worry, I have a plan."

Chloe survived the first two verses, partly due to the haphazard nature of the dance, which seemed to rely more on enthusiasm than skill, and partly due to Obi-Wan deftly steering her out of the way of collisions and supporting her weight whenever she was close to stumbling.

And then, somehow, just before the third verse kicked in, he spun her and they danced a few steps in a strange direction, and suddenly they were out, away from the crowd and only seconds later they were outside of the ballroom, in a quiet corridor, completely alone.

Chloe looked around approvingly. "Nice work, General Kenobi."

He grinned. "I do my best."

She straightened the fold of his jacket lapel, smoothing her hand over the thick gray wool. "Do you have any idea how ridiculously attractive you look in this? I must be the envy of every woman in that room."

The corners of his eyes crinkled. "Let me tell you something," he said, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. "You're the only one that matters." Then he drew back just far enough to fix his gaze on her: no longer the gray she had grown accustomed to, but that beautiful, sparkling blue-green. "You're the one I love."

He placed his hand over hers, holding against his chest.

Chloe, meanwhile, had forgotten how to breathe.

His brow creased. "I hope you believe me."

She smiled, nodded, unable to speak.

He pulled her close. Stroked the tears on her cheeks.

"See what you do to me," she whispered, drifting her lips closer to his. "I'm hopeless. Lost."

"Let me help with that."

"Yes." It was little more than a whisper, and a second later, their lips touched, lingering, savouring the moment when barest contact became a kiss. Chloe pressed her eyes shut, melting into him, unsteady on her feet, slipping one arm around his waist for support, relishing the feeling of his arms wrapping around her, pulling her even closer.

And there it was. Stars and music and fireworks and cheering—

Cheering?

"Woohoo! Get a room!"

—and heaven shattered into the laughter and whistles of the gang of kids ogling them.

"I don't believe it," Obi-Wan gritted out, one arm firm around her waist.

"Oh, of course you were never a teenager, were you Obi-Wan?" Chloe said, giving them a little wave, then winding one hand into his hair and yanking him into a long, luscious kiss that generated yet more laughter and an even louder cheer.

With a groan, Obi-Wan gently prised her away. "This is ridiculous," he muttered, flashing the gang a stern look and steering her towards the door. "Although, one of them had a point, about the room." Then he quickly added, "I mean, if you… erm… want… if that's what you…"

She held a finger to her lips in exaggerated contemplation. "Err, let me think about that for a nanosecond. Yes."

He grinned. "Where are you staying?"

She shook her head. "No good. I'm sharing the tiniest room imaginable with Matty. After we'd found out how much the outfits and hair was going to cost we could barely afford that. How about you?"

He pointed out of the window, into complete darkness. "Up there."

"You've not got a room in the palace?"

"I didn't have use for one."

She peered into the gloom. "And how exactly do we get up there?"

"That's the interesting part."

"Sounds ominous."

He chuckled and folded his arms, assessing her ballgown with fake disapproval. "Just please tell me you brought along a coat."

A/N:

Woohoo! Well, there you go, it's been a long time coming, and I hope it didn't disappoint. Please join me for the next and final chapter, the grand finale. :)