Live Journal FeedDisclaimer: See first chapter.
/ Text / denotes mental thought.
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.
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Chapter 19 - The Dance, Part I
The coldness Obi-wan had felt from Qui-Gon was gone, replaced by an indifference that troubled him. He ached for the familiar warmth of his bond with his Master, but Obi-wan understood that this was how it had to be. He’d lost control; to jealousy of all things! He’d attacked Alia for Force-sake, and had felt even worse at her forgiveness...her understanding.
She’d acted as if it had been his right to attack her, to say the things he had said to her, about her mother. What kind of life had she lived that led her to believe such behavior was to be expected? Waiting for his Master now, Obi-wan looked out at the gleaming metropolis that was Coruscant, and wished with all his heart that he hadn’t hurt her.
“The Queen has asked for a Jedi representative to attend her gathering,” said Qui-Gon behind him, walking out of the Council chamber. On their return, he’d been summoned for yet another Council session, and Obi-wan had decided to wait outside for him. There was no way short of a declaration from the Chancellor himself, and an order from Qui-Gon, that Obi-wan would face the Council, not after what he’d done.
Surprised, Obi-wan couldn’t help asking, “Why?”
“She doesn’t trust the Federation delegate, which is hardly a surprise, and has asked for someone to be present at her gathering, in order to protect her companions.”
“And you volunteered,” Obi-wan said flatly. / How can he ask me to protect them after what I did to Alia? /
Qui-Gon looked at him then, and suddenly the indifference his Master had been projecting disappeared. His lips quirked upward into an amused smile.
“You should be looking forward to exercising your diplomacy skills, my young Padawan,” he rebuked gently as he turned to go.
Obi-wan rolled his eyes, before following his Master down the hall.
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“Alia!” Anakin called for the third time, pounding on the refresher door.
Inside, Alia was brushing out her still damp hair, and threw an annoyed look over her shoulder to where the boy’s head would be.
“I’m not ready yet, Anakin. Don’t you know it takes forever for women to get ready for anything? Go ahead with Jar Jar, I’ll follow in a bit.”
Anakin blew out a breath, and shook his blond hair out of his eyes. He summed up his frustration with a single word. Girls. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed the Gungan in question snoring on the couch again. Anakin rolled his eyes, before walking over to him and giving him a push.
“Ah ah, wotta happen?” exclaimed Jar Jar, his eyes snapping open to see Anakin’s grinning face.
“You were snoring,” the boy said in explanation, “Come on, Alia’s taking forever, she said we could go down early.”
Rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, Jar Jar allowed himself to be dragged off the couch and out the door, mumbling under his breath about ‘huuuge-o tings.’
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As she walked down the corridor, Alia could hear the faint strains of music, but supposed the idea of dancing wouldn’t be encouraged by the glares she imagined radiating from the Naboo. She could feel the Queen’s seething anger the moment she entered the room, and while its potency was apparent in Amidala’s brown eyes, Alia felt it coming off her in waves. For a moment, she felt a sense of sadness for the young Queen, and anger at the Federation. What a bizarre way for the Neimoidian to delay her return to Naboo.
Glancing around the room at the various party-goers, Alia was surprised to see the Trade Federation representative talking to Senator Palpatine. / Sucha Kiljoi, / she thought, smirking. / What an appropriate name. / On closer inspection, she could see the Senator’s patience slowly begin to dwindle, and had a sudden urge to see the aristocratic man lose his control.
Shrugging away her odd interest in the senator, Alia looked around the room again, ignoring the stares sent her way, both admiring and scandalized. She’d chosen to wear a Dysean-styled outfit that had been buried at the bottom of her pack. It was beautifully made, striking in its simplicity; the white linen of her top stopped just below her breasts, the creamy color of her skin enhanced by its scooped neckline. The sleeves were longing and flowing, moving fluidly down her arms until reaching her elbows, where they fell wide from a slit on each arm.
Alia had always liked the band of gold fabric cinching the waist of her white linen skirt, the slit up its side not apparent until she moved, allowing slight glimpses of her slim, toned legs. Deciding to skip the traditional bare feet, she’d chosen to wear a pair of light-colored sandals she hadn’t known she’d had, let alone had packed.
There were other delegates here, she realized as she moved toward the Queen, catching sight of the colors of some political leaders. Some of them were plainly from the upper echelons of Coruscant, although some were just as plainly from offworld. Alia was given cursory glances as she passed them, and a few second, longer looks, but one man in particular, dressed in blue and gray, looked hard at her when she passed.
/ I wonder if they’ll be here. / The thought niggled in the back of her mind, but Alia mentally thrust it away. Reaching the Queen, she performed a credible curtsy before continuing to her friends.
“Well, what do you think?” Alia asked, her smile slightly forced as she noted their anxiety from the corner of her eye.
“My no like-en dis, Al-ya,” replied Jar Jar, his eyes darting nervously to and from the various Senate representatives.
“It feels weird,” Anakin added, his voice soft as he looked around the room again, slightly comforted by Alia’s presence. He hadn’t seen Padmé yet, and he wished she’d hurry up with whatever it was the Queen had her doing. Glancing quickly back to Alia, his eyes widened, Padmé momentarily forgotten.
“You look really nice, Alia,” Anakin said, blushing slightly.
She laughed slightly, before hunkering down to his level. Tweaking a lock of his hair, she flashed him a teasing smile.
“Why thank you, oh handsome one. You look very nice as well,” she replied.
His blue shirt and pants really did look nice on him, Alia thought. Someone must have found them for him; he’d said earlier he only had another change of clothes, nearly identical to his other ones. Alia smiled again as he blushed even deeper, before looking around.
“This isn’t much of a party,” she sighed, “More like a funeral wake. Makes sense, I guess.”
Her tone belied her words, though: Anakin could clearly hear the wistfulness in her voice. He shared a glance with Jar Jar, who smiled encouragingly and gestured with his scaly hands. The boy looked back at the woman he’d met the day before and liked so much already.
“Alia,” he began, “You said that parties were supposed to have dancing and singing, right?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, wondering where Anakin was going with this.
“At home,” Anakin continued, toying with a loose thread from his shirt, “Sometimes I’d have to prep it before it’d run.”
Jar Jar looked at Anakin as if he’d lost his mind. Ani was supposed to ask Alia for a song, not talk about engines! The Gungan decided to try his own way of suggestion.
“Wesa want-en yousa ta be sing-i for us-en, Al-ya,” he said helpfully.
Anakin shot him an exasperated look, but Alia, surprised, look from the boy to her friend, and back again. Cocking her head to one side, she mulled it over.
“And you think if I were to ‘prep’ the party, things might loosen up?” she said shrewdly, arching a disbelieving eyebrow at Anakin.
“You can sing really nice, Alia,” Anakin persisted, shooting a glance at the dais off to their right, “And it might make some people feel better.”
Alia followed his look with a discreet one of her own, and then glanced at her friends.
“What would I have to sing, handsome one?” she asked.
Though she’d said it with a sigh, the twinkle in her eyes made Anakin’s nervousness disappear.
He blushed again, though, before replying, “I don’t know…but I don’t think the one you sang earlier would work. Do you know any songs from your homeworld?”
Alia straightened, thinking hard on what might be appropriate. He was right; Little Rabbit was just a smidge out of place here. And there weren’t songs from her real homeworld, at least not ones these people would be able to understand. Alia smiled a small, painful half-smile as she remembered a few songs from her time on Dysis. A slight tug on her hand brought her back to the present, and she looked down into Anakin’s blue eyes.
“I know a few, but who knows if the musicians do?”
Giving him a small wink, Alia straightened, shooting Jar Jar a scowling glance.
“I swore you’d never trick me into singing in public again. There will be consequences, Gungan,” she threatened, before another smile broke out across her face. Jar Jar simply gave her his usual wide grin, the picture of perfect innocence. That face alone should have been enough to warn her, she thought as she turned slightly on her heel.
Walking in the direction of the music platform, she waded her way through the crowd, again drawing stares from the party-goers. The musicians were all human, she noticed absently as she pushed aside a portly Rodian - / How is it even possible for them to get so big? / - except for one very green Twi’lek female, who looked like she was about to cry. Alia wondered how many credits they’d been offered to keep the mood hospitable, if not favorable, to dancing.
She waited for a moment in front of the Twi’lek, until the green singer noticed her.
“I don’t think there’s much of a party mood right now,” she said, speaking quietly in Basic to the Twi’lek.
The female’s expressive black eyes held Alia’s gaze, nodding in understanding. The tips of her tentacles twitched nervously: if her band wasn’t paid, they wouldn’t be able to afford their agent’s salary for the next month, and they’d never get a show like this again. She watched as the human continued speaking in a low voice.
“My friends over there want to change that,” Alia said, gesturing; the female’s breath caught slightly as she saw the human’s hand point toward the Queen and her entourage, “They thought things might loosen up if I sang. I don’t mean to interfere with whatever contract you’ve been given. Just one song to convince them it’s a lost cause.”
The Twi’lek thought for a moment, and then glanced at the other musicians.
“Shh’nga ata’ata?” she said finally, looking back at the human female. What did you have in mind?
“Do you happen to know any thing from the Beroe Sector?”
“Giga hagaensu; chigati shobara?” A few things; something in particular?
“There’s this one song, from Dysis, called Inama Nushif. Do you know it?”
The Twi’lek’s eyes lit up and she nodded her head vigorously.
“Yeye, si bonuti hep walera! Si’beth tikno cali. Carrebu sal jhan?” Yes, we know the Lady’s Lament! But there is dancing as well. Do you wish for me to dance?
“No,” Alia replied, shaking her head, “I was taught the dance as well as the words. It has to be performed to the music of the song, you see. The singer has to dance with the music.”
The singer was pleased that the human understood one of the properties of a successful performance. Giving her a smile, she bowed her head gratefully.
“Ja phe tani’i, sluh gri banno si. Sher sher shingra, jathi.” Give us a minute, and we’ll be ready for you. I wish you well, human.
Alia returned the smile, then turned to walk to the center of the room, apologizing when she accidentally brushed against a body. Unnoticed, two figures wearing cloaks entered through a side entrance, making their way unobtrusively to the Queen.
Striking a pose in the middle of the floor, Alia called out, “Ladies and gentlemen, honorable delegates; I have a request to make of the Queen!”
The polite chatter around the room fell silent as the partygoers looked at the seemingly brash young woman. All eyes became locked on her or the Queen, as Amidala looked at her strange companion in surprise.
“Do I have the Queen’s attention?” Alia asked in a slightly lowered voice, ending her pose and standing at ease.
Amidala granted her a nod of her headdress, and with such encouragement, Alia continued her exaggerated behavior, her heart thudding in her chest. She swept a grand bow to the Queen, before plastering a mournful expression on her face.
“It’s with a heavy heart that I must tell you that we haven’t managed to convey your goodwill and thanks to the city of Coruscant for your stay on such a glittering metropolis.”
Alia threw a careless hand around the room, keeping her eyes fixed on Amidala. Barely, just barely, was she able to discern the Queen’s baffled but growing interest.
“It has been requested of me to sing for your pleasure, Highness. Will you allow me to attempt to get this party started?”
Affecting a disinterested pose, she watched as Amidala glanced in Anakin and Jar Jar’s direction, then back to her.
Nodding her head slightly, the Queen spoke in her expressionless voice, “We will hear you, Alia.”
The man in blue and gray caught his breath. Alia smiled at the Queen, bowing her head, sinking to a knee in respect, and remained there. The people around her backed away to give her space as the musicians began a haunting melody.
Inama nushif She is eternal
Al asir hiy ayish No malice can touch
Her clear voice suddenly cut through the air, smoothly piercing everything it touched. She moved slowly, in time with her words, every muscle tensed and relaxed.
Lia-anni Singular and ageless
Zaratha zarati Perpetually bound
Raising a hand in an ancient salute to the sky, she let it trail to the floor, her eyes rising to the ceiling as her hips moved in beat with the drums. Slowly, her arms rose above her head, twisting and twirling, as her voice lowered.
Hatt al-hudad Through the tempest
Al-maahn al-baiid Be it deluge or sand
Ay-yah idare A singular voice
Adamm malum Speaks through the torrent
The echoes of the words dancing across the walls of the hall, her graceful movements held the crowd spellbound as suddenly a new voice entered the song; the Twi’lek had begun to sing with her, their voices mixing in a beautiful duet. Alia looked over at her counterpart in mid-breath and smiled.
Hatt al-hudad Through the tempest
Al-maahn al-baiid Be it deluge or sand
Ay-yah idare A singular voice
Adamm malum Speaks through the torrent
She spun around, then, moving around the floor in a graceful circle, whirling her body in and out of spins that increased in intensity as the Twi’lek took over the singing and Alia began to dance in earnest.
Inama nishuf a al sadarr Forever her voice sings
Eann zaratha zarati Through the ages eternally bound
The men in cloaks halted their passage through the crowd and stared fixedly at Alia’s dancing form. A lump of emotion rose in one of their throats as he watched her pass by them, oblivious to their presence. She was free, at peace with the world. He had never seen anything so beautiful.
Kali bakka a tishuf ahatt Sacrifice is her gift
Al hudad alman dali [b[One that cannot be equaled[/b]
A jump and a spin, a wide arc with her leg and she was spinning again, her movements flawless.
Inama nishuf a al sadarr Forever her voice sings
Eann zaratha zarati Through the ages eternally bound
Her voice could be heard again, and some of the listeners were struck speechless, instrument and voice melding as dancer and singer became one.
Kali bakka a tishuf ahatt Sacrifice is her gift
Al hudad alman dali alia One that my people will equal
The music reached its peak, and she danced in the heart of the song, every drop of her head, every lifting of an eyebrow holding meaning and telling the story of the Warrior Queen Laria’s prophecy. At last, Alia's movements slowed as she spun in a wide, lazy circle, until reaching her starting point. The Twi’lek had let go of the song, and allowed Alia to finish it through. She raised her arm once more in the ancient salute.
Inama nushif She is eternal
Al asir hiy ayish No malice can touch
Her voice was beautiful, striking chords unheard of in a Human. Alia lowered her arms until they danced in front of her, turning herself in a slow circle as her hips moved in time with the hidden drums.
Lia-anni Singular and ageless
Zaratha zarati Perpetually bound
Executing a final, arcing spin, Alia seemed to melt perfectly into her previous posture of respect, her head bowed. The Twi’lek finished the last haunting vocals of the Lady’s Lament, and when she finished, all were silent.
“Thank you, Alia,” said the Queen at last, moved by the woman’s profound performance.
Alia looked up, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“We’ll see, Your Highness; I don’t see anyone dancing yet.”
Immediately, the Twi’lek started another song, this one in a language Alia didn’t recognize, and a mixed group of senators and nobility surged toward the dance floor. Grinning, Alia turned to head back toward her friends.
“Cadis!”
Shock cemented her foot to the floor, and habit not wholly ground out of her helped her turn around. Tears filled her eyes as she saw a man in blue and grey coming toward her, his black hair streaked with silver and his brown eyes growing large as he drew near. He stopped a few inches away from her, hardly daring to breath. Alia was able to move first, her mouth moving to say a single word.
“Jaris.”
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From the Author - -
"So...what'd you think? Believable?"
Author's Notes
Twi’lek language Just made-up words, no real basis to them.
Inama Nushif Not mine, written by Brian Tyler for the Children of Dune soundtrack, and the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard. I’ve changed one line to fit this story, and so as not to make it too Mary Sue-ish. This song will be come very important later on, if not in this story, than in its sequel.
Little Rabbit Once again, this song is not mine. It’s a children’s song from Greece.
