When Destinies Meet, part 1: In the wake of discovery

Author's Note:
yay for quick update! *g* I decided to update this faster since I have it written ahead..only 5 or so chapters to go for book one!
And special thanks to RilleElen who keeps pointing out the obvious things I should have noticed when writing...you rock!! *hugs*


Chapter Fourteen: Return to Naboo

The pieces set in motion, everyone's attention and nerves were up. Adrenaline surged through veins, decisions were made and speeches presented. By the time the Senate was well on the way of voting out a new Supreme Chancellor, Amidala and her staff were preparing to leave Coruscant and return to Naboo. No one laughed, and even smiles were rare – all knew that their mission was dangerous. Perhaps, they would not survive.

Within the Queen's quarters the organised chaos of packing and transporting the luggage to the cruiser was well on the way, but Amidala seemed not to notice it as she stood in front of the mirror while Sabé and Eirtaé dressed her. Rabé was busy painting her face anew, reviving the white and making the red colour all the more vibrant. She passed the pallete to Arwen who stored it away, before turning around and moving to dress for herself as well.

In striking contrast to the Queen, as usual, the handmaidens donned their flame-coloured gowns and pulled their hoods up. Her Royal Highness wore a deep purple travelling gown with her hair pulled up and a purple veil of the finest silk falling down her back. No skin shone from within the folds, except her face, which stood out striking white against all the other colours.

Arwen took the red gown which she had worn on Naboo and during most of the journey and silently pulled it on, making sure each golden cord was where it should be. Her long black hair she pulled away, partly binding it to ensure it would not get in the way or fall into her face. But across her face came a shimmering golden veil, which Eirtaé suggested and the other three girls voiced a 'yes' to. The veil hid her face well, showing but the faintest shapes. The second part of the veil covered her hair and part of her back. Only her gray eyes looked out into the world with the same wisdom and care.

When she looked into the mirror, the woman who looked back was no more the Elven Princess, but rather she resembled the women in Far Harad, the southern realms of Middle Earth farther even than Mordor itself. Those princesses wore similar attires which she now did. The only thing missing was a chimming golden necklase or belt, and she would be their perfect copy.

She helped Amidala slip into the last bit of her gown, a velvet overcoat, and then hastily began putting what was unneeded into the last suitcase. Behind her, the handmaidens pulled shut the curtains on the windows. Arwen closed the piece of luggage; Amidala lifted her chin and stepped out of the room. In silence, the handmaidens fell behind, and last came Arwen, handing the suitcase to Panaka at the door.

Night had blessed Coruscant with its power, although few upon the ground could see the stars that shimmered down upon them, for the skylines were far too packed and the buildings far too tall for them to see anything but the lights human-made. Though on the levels on which Amidala and her assistants traveled, the skylines were clearer, and some stars they could see. To Arwen, they had a soothing effect, for through them she could feel that Varda Elbereth had not yet deserted her. Unknown to the elleth, Varda's eyes could not reach her anymore, although her thoughts were with Lúthien's descendant at all times.

The taxi took them to the hangar in which their transport awaited – the sleek Nubian cruiser rested in peace, it seemed, yet Ric Olié and his team had already cleaned its engines and checked the hyperdrive. As soon as their Queen would be safely on board, they would take off.

Arwen's gray eyes, adjusting to the fading light faster than anyone else's, noticed four other shapes standing beside the cruiser. Deep within her soul, the silken cord, sensing its mate, began to shine with a soft and tender light. And the mate, sensing its call, shone out as well, answering with a melody ancient in time, yet freshly new to them both.

Obi-Wan turned his head, unknowing exactly why, and his eyes fell upon the group of Amidala, heading for the cruiser. His thoughts and misthoughts on the case of little Anakin were momentarily forgotten, as he smiled, counting the women that walked so proudly and with such strength, his green-blue eyes lingering upon a particulary exotic form. Even though her face had been hidden behind a veil, he could recognise those eyes anywhere.

The Padawan had thought that the separation of them both would ease the emotions that flowed through his soul, and that he would have enough time to clear his thoughts and would manage to look at her with an easy heart. Yet the slightest image of her face, the interesting shine in her eyes as he explained the lifeforce of the Jedi would not let him sleep. Qui-Gon noticed his Padawan's unrest, yet thought nothing more of it than misgivings on the fact that his master would soon take on another Padawan, the boy Skywalker. How beyond the truth that was! For to Obi-Wan, the emotions he felt as his eyes saw the Minister once more, were forbidden, forbidden by no less than the Jedi Code itself.

The emotions had a name.

Love.

Could it possibly be that his heart had betrayed him, that Siri Tachi was so easily forgotten? The relationship between the two Padawans was far warmer than normal, and yet never had he felt anything as he did now. In those gray depths he lost himself, voice failing him and the feeling of complete idiocy came to his mind. For he felt like a young boy when in her presence. One look from those eyes and all he said seemed foolish even to his own ears, and his soul felt naked and bare before that gaze.

It had only gotten worse, especially now when he saw her again. Although at least he had the privilege to see her, if nothing else.

And then she turned to look at him, and for a moment, time seemed to stop, as two hearts beat as one.

Arwen had thought it only to be a passing fancy. Many had tried to claim her hand during the years, in Imladris and Lórien alike, and yet they had all failed. For the daughter of Elrond would yield her heart to none, who was unworthy. Many were those who had been heartbroken, among them, it was said, were also Galdor of the Havens, Círdan's firstborn, and Haldir, the Marchwarden of Lórien, Celeborn's right hand. Her brothers used to joke that she would die an old maid; if she waits for a 'prince on a white horse', they had said, she had waisted two already. Some even thought Glorfindel to secretly love her, yet that, as they both knew, was as true as Gandalf eating his hat.

Because of the list, and the fact that her heart had taken a liking to no one, it surprised Arwen even more to find that, apparently, the young Padawan had more to him than met the eye. She saw many things upon his road, although dark it was, and she could not see pass that darkness. And the blue-green eyes made her heart miss a beat each time she looked at them. Could it possibly be that she was falling in love with Obi-Wan? Arwen knew of the cost that would have to be paid, should she choose him in the end – the parting from her family and kin, and even her homeworld. But love, some said, wears many faces. Sometimes it comes along loudly and with great pomp; yet other times, more likely, it creeps slowly along the road, coming upon you when least you wish or expect it. And once it does, its grip never lessens.

The moment passed silently, and Arwen looked away, towards the rampway heading into the cruiser. Obi-Wan focused upon the Queen as she conversed with his Master. Accompanied by the happy shrieks of the Gungan Jar-Jar the group boarded. Olié pressed some buttons and the rampway began to lift. He pressed one more, and he felt the engines burst to life. With skill, brought to him in years of flying, he directed the cruiser to the exit, and then, slowly, the silver form left the hangar and flew into orbit. Soon, Coruscant was nothing more than a large light-sewn planet, far behind them.

As soon as everyone was settled, and the cruiser set to light speed, Amidala called a meeting in the throne room. Sitting upon the marble throne in her dark gown and painted face, she looked older, far older than her fourteen years. Sabé and Rabé stood behind their Queen in silence, while Eirtaé faced them at the door. Arwen had missed the exact beginning of the meeting and quietly fell in line next to Obi-Wan. The pair did not exchange looks, yet both were well aware of the other.

Panaka was worried for his Queen's safety.

"The moment we land, the Federation will arrest you, and force you to sign the treaty," he told the young monarch, meaning every word. She looked back at him with a cool expression.

Qui-Gon seconed Panaka: "I agree…I am not sure what you hope to accomplish by this." 'This' being the return to Naboo, as they all new. Arwen looked from one to the other, gray eyes moving swiftly, before meeting Padmé's gaze once more. Underneath the veil, she smiled slightly.

Amidala's voice gae no argument, yet was passive: "I am going to take back what's ours."

Panaka looked doutful: "There are only twelve of us, Your Highness," he voiced his fear, "we have no army."

Again, the Jedi Master could only agree: "I cannot fight a war for you, Your Highness; I can only protect you." But Amidala knew that long before he spoke. Her eyes travelled to the Gungan that stood beside Arwen and Obi-Wan.

"Jar-Jar Binks!" her voice called out to him clearly. The Master and Captain turned around in surprise. Obi-Wan turned his head to the side, as did Arwen. All eyes were upon the Gungan who, not knowing what was suddenly going on, looked frightened.

"Mesa, Your Highness?"

Amidala gave hi man encouraging nod and beckoned him forward. Her voice was grave, yet within it she held a plan: "Yes. I need your help."

Obi-Wan's eyebrow arched and he looked to Arwen, who seemed genuinely surprised.

"You know of this move?" he asked softly. She turned her gaze upon him, and within her gray eyes were reflected the same feelings he felt.

"Absolutely not."

Both turned back to the conversation at hand. Amidala looked questioningly to the Gungan.

"You said to me, on Coruscant, that your people will not give up without a fight."

The Gungan nodded, still not knowing where this conversation was leading: "A-ha."

Amidala smiled then, her first smile from the meeting in the Senate. She turned to Panaka: "That answers your question about an army, Captain." The dark-skinned man was left speechless and he could only nod.

Qui-Gon had his doubts: "A Gungan army? They stand no chance against the droids."

Amidala gave him what Arwen thought to be a pitiful look: "I do not mean to attack Theed head on." Qui-Gon's eyebrows arched.

"And your plan is…?" The Queen elegantly turned her face away and softly said something to Rabé, indicating that the meeting was over. Left in the dark with what the Queen was about to do, Arwen felt there was no need to tarry around the throne room, thus she excused herself and retired to her chambers.

But she could not sleep; whether it was because of the journey, or because the Jedi were around, she could not tell. Thus she rose, in the late hours of what she thought was night, and decided to stretch her legs. She wore only a thin nightgown, but wrapped a shawl around her upper body, and silently opened the door to her chamber. The hallway was empty and dark. Her Elven senses had no trouble finding their way, and thus she slowly walked to the 'food room' as was the playful nickname to the cruiser's small kitchen. She could see that the pilots had already had their share of energy-boost, but she desired only water. Perhaps thirst was what kept her awake.

As she was pouring the water, Arwen got the distinct feeling that someone was coming. She had no idea how she knew or how she knew the person was coming exactly here – but she turned rapidly, her black hair tumbling wildly down her shoulders, and peered into the darkness of the hallway.

"Who walks there?" she asked softly, surprised at the dryness of her throat. Maybe she was thirsty after all.

The tall form of Qui-Gon's Padawan broke free of the darkness and stepped into the light. Arwen relaxed visibly and shot hi man annoyed glance.

"You frightened me." Obi-Wan lifted his hands in surrender.

"Forgive me – it was not my intention." He watched her as she poured herself some water, then poured another cup and offered it to him. He smiled and took it gratefully. "Thank you – you cannot sleep either?" She shook her head.

"Sleep elludes me – as if I was bewitched somehow." Thougtfully she sipped her water, and for the first time, Obi-Wan got to see the Minister out of her regal robes of state. He had to admit that the sight was pleasing. She looked far more approachable, far softer in demenaur..and far more beautiful.

"How did you know someone was coming?" he asked, trying to remember if he made any noise, which was unlikely. She shrugged, and the shawl moved a bit, exposing some of her shoulder.

"I have no idea. I simply knew. Woman instinct?" she added playfully and looked at him from over her cup. He chuckled.

"If you say so."

They fell into silence once more, each concentrating on his own thoughts. It was Obi-Wan who broke the silence again.

"You are not from Naboo."

Odd, how history seems to repeat itself. Arwen looked up and wondered why it was that she heard that statement for the second time in but a short while. Somehow, she was giving her true identity away, yet she had no idea how or why. All the while, she tried to be as true to the Minister of Naboo guise as possible. Perhaps she was over-doing it?

She gave Obi-Wan a sad smile, much alike to the one she had given Anakin in answer to the same sentence, and turned away.

"No, I am not." She half expected him to shower her with other questions, but luckily, he let the matter be, and soon silence settled between them once more, broken occassionaly by the soft hum of the motors, or the sipping of water.

Comfortable in his presence, Arwen turned to place the cup away, or perhaps to pour herself some more water – she honestly had no idea. But in the process of doing so, her shawl slipped even lower, coming to rest against the crook of her arms, exposing her bare shoulders and the thin straps of her nightgown. Her arm moved to put it back to its place, but another beat her to it. She felt the warmth of his hand as he gently tugged at the shawl and pulled it back up, resting his palm gently against her shoulder. It seemed to her, and to him as well, though neither showed it, that sparks began to dance between the touch of skin against skin, as his fingers accidentally brushed against her shoulder in the process of re-fitting her shawl.

The elleth turned her head to look at him, and found him close – too close. Barely an inch away from her lips; she could feel his breath, and the blue-green eyes bore themselves into hers.

Neither moved for a long time. Then, just as she was about to lean forth, he stepped away, breaking contact and leaving her with the sudden feeling of emptiness. Slowly, step after step, he moved backwards, away from the woman that had bewitched him, eyes never leaving hers, fearing to do so. She was lovely, standing there, with her shawl partly slipping down once more, her eyes large and her cheeks beging to be caressed. Yet Obi-Wan knew that, should he pursue this, he was lost. And so were his dreams of becoming a Jedi. That was why he could not pursue this matter any further.

He turned on his heel and was ready to leave the kitchen, when her soft voice floated to him:

"What do you fear, Obi-Wan?"

He stopped in his tracks. He saught an answer. His voice was low when he finally spoke: "Being pushed away." And with those words, he disappeared into the darkness.

Arwen watched the doorway for a long time, before finally tearing her gaze away and focusing on the cup once more. What had almost come to pass frightened her, yet at the same time beckoned to her as nothing else in her life ever did. She sensed that the door to this path was creaked open, light shinning through. She had but to grasp the handle and open it fully…but upon stepping through, she could never go back.

A soft sigh escaped her and she pulled on her shawl with annoyance, pulling it closer around herself. The kitchen suddenly seemed very cold and very, very empty.

Soft footsteps alerted her to another presence and she wondered how many surprises she would get that night – one was quite enough. With another sigh she turned around – and fell directly into Obi-Wan's arms. She lifted her hands to steady herself, resting them upon his shoulders. Their eyes met, but before she could say anything, anything at all, he lowered his head and his lips brushed across hers. In that moment she knew she was lost, that the door had been opened, and the path taken. To where it lead, however, she could not tell.

The kiss ended swiftly, being no more than a faint merging of lips. She got a glimpse of blue-green eyes once more, then, the Padawan disappeared as silently as he had returned. Leaving behind a very bewildered and very, very confused Arwen.

As he walked to his bedchamber, Obi-Wan's thoughts were spinning, the commotion inside him complete. He should have been stronger – but something pulled him to the woman, whisperings on the Force. And he had only followed them, hadn't he? He hadn't exactly done anything wrong…the Force flowed through him as vibrantly as he had never felt it do before. A smile tuggedt at his lips.

Maybe this wouldn't turno ut so bad after all.

TBC

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