Chapter Text
A bitter winter breeze rushed through the halls of the large building, a sharp contrast to the softly radiant stained glass windows with depictions of past rulers and guardians, displayed strong and honorable. Stewjon had its seasons, passing just as time does, but it seemed recently that the weather had grown much more vicious, more abnormally strong.
“Senator,” one of her handmaidens called out from down the hall, donning a thicker overcoat made out of animal hide. “I assume you are well-prepared for the meeting with representatives from the Jedi Council?”
She looked back, her own overcoat hanging on her frame as she paused there. “Aurora, pleasant seeing you in this hall,” she smiled. “And yes, you assumed right. Although I am unsure who they are,”
Her relationship between her handmaidens was like any other figure, close-knit, but everyone held their own space and authority here. She didn’t see her maidens any less than her, only equals in the governing of Stewjon.
It was a blessing that she was relatively safe within the comfort of her own court, but only a few weeks ago there was a disturbance nearby that raised concern among outside authority.
“If you can, I’d request that you accompany me during my discussion with the representatives,”
The echo in the halls seemed to hold onto her voice, leaving the question lingering in the air for a brief moment.
“Yes, of course, Senator. I will stand beside you.”
She gave her a soft smile before they walked down the halls together, side-by-side, towards the grand door that opened to the main court—a circular discussion room built for a conference among leaders, the memories of past disputes and bonds etched into the walls.
As she stood beside her chair, she could see from across the room were two Jedi men wearing robes seemingly too thin for such weather—one of them with longer hair and an older appearance, while the other had much shorter hair and a small braid.
“Welcome gentlemen,” she announced, her voice echoing in the courtroom. “We’re pleased you could arrive, despite the harsh weather.”
“It wasn’t too bad, Senator. We’ve been through much worse,” the older one chuckled. “I’m Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
Clasping her hands together, eyes seemed to drift towards the younger Jedi for a moment, noticing how he seemed to look at her intently before breaking eye contact, looking away bashfully.
“Well—” she cleared her throat, “If you gentlemen would rather discuss in a less…rigid environment, I’d be more than willing to make accommodations within the chapel,”
The two men exchanged looks in silence before Obi-Wan spoke up. “Will it be warmer than here?”
Her handmaiden let out a small chuckle, stifled by her hand before she quickly regathered herself. “Yes Kenobi, the chapel is warmer than the court. The Senator will lead our way,” she said, motioning towards the grand door.
As they exited the courtroom, steps echoing, the two Jedi observed the hall, admiring and exchanging soft murmurs about the delicate details of the columns and archways. Simple for a governing body, but pleasing to the eye for an ordinary person.
After a brief walk, they turned a corner, leading to a smaller wooden door at the end of the hall. Less grand and intricate, it felt much more personal—a part of the building seemingly isolated from all the pompous grandeur of the main palace.
She knocked on the door twice, gently, and waited for a moment before twisting the knob open, revealing a small chapel, brilliantly illuminated with stained glass windows from both sides pouring onto rows of wooden pews, and a statue of the Daughter front and center. Roses, lilies, all sorts of florals were laid delicately before the statue around her feet, with some tucked into her arms and hands.
The two Jedi were in soft awe, eyes trailing around the room as the Senator and her handmaiden sat down in one of the pews, a gentle smile on their faces as they chuckled.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” The Senator asked, voice quietly echoing in the room.
Obi-Wan simply had his mouth agape, sitting down in the pew behind them speechlessly. Qui-Gon followed suit, sitting beside Obi-Wan in the pew.
“Stunning, to say the least of it all,” he spoke. “Was this chapel always here, Senator?”
“No, Master Jinn. The construction of this chapel was quite a few years ago when I first was elected as the senator,”
“Ah?” Obi-Wan chirped, tilting his head slightly. “Was it your decision?”
“Yes, Kenobi,” she smiled at him. “I wanted a more private space to retreat to at times, and so I decided on a chapel near the center of the entire building, or rather—the heart of the building.”
Obi-Wan found it fitting, an ethereal, well-designed chapel in the vision of an equally, if not more ethereal Senator. Both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon let out a hum after a moment of silence, before sitting more upright and remembering their reasoning for being here in the first place.
“So tell me, Senator—when did you first notice this ‘disturbance’ on Stewjon?” the older man asked.
“Just a few weeks ago, I was notified by one of my handmaidens who was approached by one of the townsfolk out on the street.”
It sounded odd to have an ordinary person be involved in a disturbance in the force, especially on such a planet without conflict or general disruption with its governance it seemed.
“What kind of disturbance did they explain?”
She paused for a brief moment, attempting to recollect the details as accurately as possible. “They spoke of a sort of figure lingering out on the streets, strangely out of place, but not like how a traveller would be,” she spoke, growing quiet at the end of her sentence.
An uncomfortable feeling settled somewhere in her chest, memories of the past starting to swell up as she started to scatter around in her mind. The past was never sweet to her, and her handmaidens were well informed of that, attempting to aid her as a newly elected senator.
Qui-Gon paused for a moment before speaking, realizing what kind of danger could be at hand if the Council isn’t informed sooner or later. He looked at Obi-Wan, only tilting his head slightly before the both of them were informed.
“Senator, we will report to the Council about this disturbance, and any new disturbances will be recorded as well,” Obi-Wan said.
Humming, she nodded with a tight lip, eyes breaking away from the both of them as she looked at the ground. Normally, she could handle her duties as a senator, but with the tone of the two Jedi regarding the disturbance, she felt uneasy and restless over the next few days, even with their presence on the planet.
Her handmaidens started to grow more and more concerned about her, noticing that she lingered around in the gardens and chapel much more often, lost in her thoughts filled with worry. Despite any meetings and discussions within the circle, she felt more vulnerable than ever, the past circling back and lingering in corners and crevices.
It was only when she was sitting out on a stone bench near a fountain amidst the snowy weather when Obi-Wan approached her again, snow crunching beneath his boots as he stopped a few paces away from her.
“Senator, are you well?” he asked, deeply concerned for her.
She snapped out of her thoughts, but still had her back turned to him. “I’m okay, Kenobi. Don’t focus your worries on me,”
He pulled his cloak tighter around his body, stepping a little closer. “But I must, no? I was assigned by the Council to—”
“—have a discussion with the governing body of Stewjon, nothing more,” she spoke, providing a more accurate finish to his sentence as she turned around to face him. “Where is Master Jinn?”
“He’s discussing some things with the Jedi Council, Senator. One of your handmaidens told me you’d be out here, despite the weather,”
She hummed, eyes looking off into the distance aimlessly again. “It’s quiet here,” she whispered. “It’s what I need.”
He felt a sort of ache in his heart against all Jedi-code seeing her like this, so different from the bright-eyed and cheery senator he knew when he first landed back on Stewjon again. It was almost jarring how quickly she shifted when more details were revealed about the disturbance, but it was only human if he showed some care for someone near his age.
The snow continued to fall, and he remained out in the garden for as long as she was, not too willing to let her sit outside alone, and eventually, he asked to sit beside her, even if it was in silence.