Beyond - Legends Enchanted - A Star Wars Fairytale (AU; SkySolos, Jag, Tahiri, Vader, etc) - update 29. July

I had! to bump this! Especially when I looked at the date in the title bar.

 

Ahhh, sorry guys, I've been really negligent here! I'll just get on with it and post the next update real quick...

Tags: Ceillean, Nyota's Heart, taramidala, windu4

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By the time dusk began to settle over the forest, even Jacen admitted to being completely lost, much as it hurt him to say it. Not that he had to say it, because Jaina knew what he knew anyway. Her hand in his felt like the only thing that was real, the only thing he could really trust.

“Should’ve brought a tent or something,” he said, trying to keep his voice light.

“Or a compass,” said Jaina, ever pragmatic.

“You know, I’m not sure it would have helped. The sun didn’t.”

“Yeah.” Jaina regarded the sunset, which was currently taking place to their left. Jacen had given up on trying to ascertain what objective direction it might be. “This is all impossible, of course.”

“Clearly not.” Jacen sighed. “Y’know, forget tents and compasses, I wish we had some food left.” They’d eaten all of the bread much earlier. Now, all they had left were raw mushrooms and roots, and he wasn’t hungry enough to take that step yet.

“Me too.” They walked in silence for another while, then Jaina squeezed his hand. “We’ll find our way out.”

“’course we will,” Jacen said stoutly. “People go in and out of the forest all the time. Dad did it hundreds of times. Wedge and the Rogues live in it, for crying out loud.”

“Lived,” Jaina reminded him. “Last I heard, they were up in Orowood Forest, annoying the sheriff.”

“But they made it out. That’s the important part.”

Jaina stayed worried. Jacen could feel her anxiety as if it was his own, and he understood it. Jaina didn’t have a plan right now. And unlike him, always happy to take things as they came, Jaina needed a plan to feel in control, to feel safe.

They walked on, and after another few minutes, Jacen said, “So. You wanna hear a joke?”

He had to try a few times, but eventually he managed to coax a laugh from her, and for the next hour or so they were in good spirits, teasing and insulting each other.

When the sun had almost set, they reached a clearing. It was different than all the other clearings they had passed so far, because this one had a house in it.

Granted, it was an extremely odd house. It looked more like something that Mrs. Shesh, Dale’s resident sharp-tongued confectioner, might have come up with. Jacen thought, with no small measure of jealousy, that Anakin was probably digging into something like it at the Hand Fortress right now.

It looked like it was made of cake. There was no way around it. The roof tiles looked like glazed biscuits, little white sugar icicles hung from its eaves, and the walls looked more baked that built, too. And it smelled. When the scent reached Jacen, his mouth immediately began to water.

The twins looked at each other.

“That...” Jaina said slowly. “That doesn’t seem all that possible either.”

“Maybe we’re hallucinating with hunger.”

“Oh please, you ate almost all of the bread we took, didn’t you?”

“Long time ago.”

“Don’t even think that.” Jaina glared at the house. “Who the hell would build a house like that? Why hasn’t it melted away yet?”

“Magic,” Jacen said. He could feel it, a subtle aura surrounding the house in its entirety. He had no idea what kind of spell would keep a house like that together, though. Whoever had built this...

“Is powerful,” Jaina said quietly.

Jacen cocked his head to the side. “I wonder who—”

“I don’t.” Jaina shook her head. “We should keep going.”

“Are you kidding? This is the first sign of civilisation we’ve come across all day.” Jacen was suddenly sure that it would remain the only such sign, too.

Jaina was having the same thoughts. “Hmm, yes, funny how the path led us here.” She gave the house another dirty look. “What do you bet that if we keep walking, we’ll end up back here?”

Jacen winced. “Now there’s a nice thought.”

“Uh-huh.”

“On the other hand, though,” he said, “whoever built this can probably tell us how to get back home. Or even send us there.”

“If they want to,” Jaina said darkly. Her distrust of the house and its owner were almost shouting in Jacen’s mind. But she was, as ever, pragmatic about it. “But if we’re caught, we’re caught. We might as well knock. Maybe it really is a kind old woman.”

Jacen nodded. “Maybe she’ll give us a piece of her house.”

Jaina rolled her eyes.

They walked through the small sugar-coated gate that led to the house. Jacen stepped forward and reached up to use the doorknob, which seemed to be made out of some kind of boiled sweet. He knocked and licked his knuckle afterwards. “Mhmm.”

“Will you stop thinking with your stomach for two seconds,” Jaina hissed.

Before he could reply, the door opened. It creaked.

The woman behind it was not old. Jacen guessed her to be about his mother’s age, clad in ragged robes and a shawl that covered her head. A few strands of hair peeked out under it, a mix of auburn and grey.

But it wasn’t her appearance that sent a chill through Jacen’s body. It was the fact that he knew her, on some level that he couldn’t even grasp, much less explain. He was sure that he’d never met her, but he suddenly felt nervous, as if he was about to step off a ledge that might change the rest of his future forever.

She smiled. “Well, hello there. Come in, come in, out of the cold, you must be half-frozen.”

A prod in his ribs reminded him that they were committed now, and he stepped into the house, fighting a feeling of disorientation. The moment had passed; the woman was no more than a woman again, a stranger to him.

The house was quite small inside. A large oven took up one corner, the table and chairs most of the other half of the room. Over behind that, Jacen could see a narrow stair case leading up to the next floor, presumably where the woman’s bedroom was. Like the rest of the house, the furnishings looked edible, make of some kind of pastry.

She closed the door behind them and gestured at a small table. “Sit.”

“Uh,” Jacen said, trying for a charming smile. “I’m sorry, we never introduced ourselves, did we? I’m Jacen Solo. This is my sister, Jaina.”

“A pleasure to meet you both,” the woman said, smiling back. “My name is Brisha. Brisha Syo.”

* * *​

Dinner was a lengthy affair, as usual on formal occasions, but quite enjoyable. The main course was his favourite, fried veal with roasted potatoes and vegetables in a creamy sauce. Beside him, Cherith ate only the tiniest portion, leaving plenty of space for cake. On Cherith’s other side, Wynssa attacked her food with enthusiasm and the bare minimum of regard for table manners. It was probably just as well that most of Syal’s attention was taken up by the ambassador from Imperial City. Nirauan had close ties with Coruscant, and while the Emperor had had to decline the invitation, he’d sent some of his highest-ranking representatives to pay their respects.

The cakes were a marvel, as usual, and even after the main course Jag still had enough room left for three slices of his favourite cherry and chocolate cake. Cherith ate four and complained that it wasn’t fair how boys seemed to have bigger stomachs than girls.

“Dance with me,” Jag said when they were getting up to move back into the ball room.

Cherith raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Please, Cher. It’s the first dance. I have to dance and I don’t want to ask one of...” He gestured with his eyes. “You know.”

“What, don’t tell me you’re already over your Twi’lek girl,” she said, a smirk on her face.

“I wasn’t—” He interrupted himself with a sigh. Trust Cherith to call him out on that. “Fine, I’ll ask Wynssa.”

“Actually, you’ll have to.” She grinned. “I already promised my first dance to someone.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, indeed. Shut up. Go ask Wynssa before someone manages to stop staring at her long enough to actually get a word out.”

Jag chuckled, but he heard the edge in his own voice. It was the same edge that came into Davin’s and Chak’s, and increasingly Cem’s, whenever talk turned to someone’s interest in their little sister. Wynssa was fourteen and looked more like their mother every day, a classic beauty that you couldn’t help but notice. And the men were starting to notice. Jag and his brothers had made it their unspoken duty to notice them, in turn.

Wynssa was happy to get the first dance with the birthday boy. She moved across the floor like grace personified, for all her usual tomboy antics.

“Everyone’s looking,” she whispered to him while they danced, the other couples twirling around them. “Everyone’s watching us. This is so amazing!”

“Yeah.” Jag moved around behind her while she took two dainty steps to the side, and took the opportunity to glare at one of the young men watching in slack-jawed admiration. The fellow hastily picked his jaw off the ground and looked away. Jag smiled and swung Wynssa back around to face him. “And I haven’t even stepped on your toes, have I?”

She giggled. “As if.”

The dance ended and another started almost right where it left off. More people moved onto the dance floor, and Jag picked a girl at random and bowed to her before leading her out to join the others.

Three dances later, he found himself bowing over the hand of Numa Ming. The dance was slightly more upbeat this time, and involved elaborate routines of changing partners and weaving past the others before ending back together. Jag had cause to both regret and welcome this mere seconds into the dance. Numa swayed in his arms with more than grace, her hips brushing against his, her touch and her smile pure seduction. It wasn’t dancing, Jag thought while he worked his way along the other dancers, keeping the polite smile on his face. At least, it wasn’t just dancing, not the dancing you learned at court. It made him want to run and draw closer.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked when Numa was back in his arms.

“The best,” Numa replied, her voice a little throaty. “I never dreamed that court would be so amazing. It’s like a dream come true, your Highness.”

Jag looked into her eyes, feeling a strange warmth draw over him. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, grateful that courtly talk came so easily to him by now. “It’s your first time at court?”

“At this court, yes.” Numa lowered her eyes, and Jag found himself wishing she’d look at him again. “We don’t really go out much. Our mother is rather…conservative. “

“She’s wise to hide you away,” Jag said. “She’d have young men assailing the castle if they knew the treasure within.”

Numa blushed prettily. When she looked at him again, it was an effort not to lean down, closer... “Well, I suppose the secret is out now.”

Some part of Jag’s fogged mind found a reply. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe.”

The dance ended, and the moment passed. Jag resisted the urge to keep hold of Numa, and bowed to her instead. His next partner was a pretty girl from Coruscant, presumably here with the Imperial delegation. Jag caught his mother’s glance and knew that he ought to pay this one special attention; the delegation itself showed that Emperor Palpatine had an interest in a closer alliance, and a marriage would be the perfect solution. Jag’s parents refused to arrange marriages for their children, but Jag knew his duty. Falling for a Coruscanti lady was the best thing he could do.

But his thoughts lingered on Numa.

Until he passed through the row of dancers again, and found himself face to face with the green eyes and provocative smile of Alema Rar. They did something funny to his stomach, and when the dance ended, he sought her out and bowed. “May I have the next dance?”

She cocked her head to the side as if considering it, then nodded once. “I suppose you may.”

“You suppose?”

“Well, you are the birthday boy, right? It would be rude to refuse you.” Her tone was light, but her words bothered him.

“I promise that you needn’t endure to the end if you don’t enjoy yourself,” he said.

“I’ll take a risk.” She took his proffered hand and shot him another smile as he led her out among the other dancers.

“I like a lady who will take a chance,” Jag said, surprising himself with the flirty undertone in his own voice.

Alema’s smile blossomed into a wicked grin. “I like to live on the edge.”

That sent another surge of adrenaline through his system, and he had to fight to keep his movements steady. Alema’s dance was much like Numa’s; she swayed her hips and moved with a liquid grace that almost hypnotised him. But where Numa was coy and blushing, Alema was forward and provocative, challenging him with her words, her smiles, those green eyes under raised eyebrows.

“Where do you live, Miss Alema?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation to safer waters. “I know nothing about Yavin.”

“Oh, it’s quite boring,” she said irreverently. “We don’t get a lot of excitement there. It’s not like here.”

“You like it here?”

She gave him a measuring look. “I like some things here.”

“Oh?” He swung her around, tried to ignore the spark that shot through him every time she brushed against him. “Like what?”

Her wicked smile lit up her face again. “The food was pretty good.”

“Is that all?”

“The music is very nice,” she conceded. She stepped around him, in perfect sync with the music, and trailed a hand over his shoulders and neck. He suppressed a shudder and reminded himself of where they were. “And my dance partner isn’t too shabby, I suppose.”

“Well, you set a very high standard,” Jag managed. She laughed as if seeing right through his attempt at a compliment, a delighted sound.

Damn her, what was she doing to him? He wasn’t exactly a ladies’ man, but he’d met plenty of girls and despite what his mother said, he didn’t only spend time with his sisters. He’d spent his life at court, and he knew how to behave, what to say, and he’d always, always, been able to keep himself under control.

But Alema was different. She teased, drew close, only to retreat again and leave him fumbling to catch up. He found himself wanting to get under her skin the way she got under his.

His surroundings blended into the background, and Jag lost himself in the moment.

 

Super update. I don't trust the lady with the edible house either. And Alema Looks like she's gotten to Jag in a huge way.

 

I chuckled at the thought of Viqi Shesh being a confectioner! But Brisha???? Crap, crap, crap.

Jagged Fel….another in a long line of men who have been beguiled by a Twi'lek!

 

Love the idea of the twins as Hansel and Gretel. Of course, now I'm picturing them as "Jacen and Jaina: Sith Hunters"

 

Ohh yes, trouble abounds right now. Muahaha! I love the idea of Jacen and Jaina as Sith Hunters. That almost deserves a fic all by itself. Thanks for sticking with this, guys, despite the somewhat erratic updates lately!

 

Tags: Ceillean, Nyota's Heart, taramidala, windu4

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The Hand Fortress was a huge building, bigger than the castle at Yavin and much more clearly built for defence. Tahiri studied it as she walked up the steps to the main doors, feeling small and wide-eyed in the cold evening air.

The guards saluted her when she presented her invitation, and the doors opened for her. Inside, the castle was equally impressive, much brighter and cleaner than her own home. Torches lined the hallways, guards stood at several doors and passageways, servants bustled along with bowls of sweets and trays of glasses and wine.

When she got to the ballroom, the herald barely seemed to notice her, much less move to announce her. Relieved and a little surprised at how easy it had been so far, she walked through the doors and into the ballroom.

It was full, with more people than Tahiri had ever seen in one place all her life. The women were beautiful in their long, glittering dresses and elaborately styled hair, the men gracious and impressive in their silk shirts and embroidered coats.

At the end of the ballroom, the king and queen sat on their thrones. Tahiri was impressed. Queen Syal was every bit as beautiful as people said, slender and fair-haired with a kind smile on her refined features. King Soontir was her matching opposite, tall and powerfully built, with dark hair, a square jaw and high cheekbones that lent determination and a formidable air to to his good looks.

She turned away, disappearing into the crowd at the side of the dance floor. Someone offered her a glass of wine and she took it, along with a round piece of chocolate that looked like a tiny cake. The wine was too sour for her taste and did something funny to her head, but the chocolate tasted wonderful. She took another.

“Excuse me.”

She whirled, coming face to face with a blond young man she didn’t recognise. He was elaborately dressed in what seemed like all the colours of the rainbow, and had a shy smile. He also looked really, really nervous.

“May I have this dance, lady?”

She swallowed the chocolate hastily and nodded, smiling back at him. “Yeah. Sure, of course…I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Raynar, Raynar Thul. And you are?”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, casting about for a name—why had she not thought of one beforehand?—and saying the first one that came to mind. “I’m Danni.”

“Danni.” Raynar’s blue eyes studied her, oddly knowing. She fought the urge to shift in discomfort. But he nodded, and held out his hand. “It’s an honour.”

Raynar led her out onto the dance floor. He proved good company; he asked a lot of questions, but most of them were the kinds of questions that Tahiri didn’t mind answering. By the time the dance ended, she felt like she’d known him forever.

“Thank you,” Raynar said, kissing her hand.

She fought to keep from giggling. “Thanks yourself. That was fun.”

“It was?” Raynar looked surprised. “I stepped on your toes.”

Tahiri shrugged. “Only once. I was so busy talking to you that I hardly noticed.”

He seemed pleased with that, standing a little straighter. “Well, well. Good, that’s good. Well. I hope to see you around, then, milady.”

She smiled. “You too.”

The next offer to dance came from a sandy-haired young man with a friendly smile, dressed in a dark grey uniform with red piping. He introduced himself as Cem, and it took her a moment to realise that she was talking to a prince, the youngest son of King Soontir and Queen Syal.

He swept her onto the dance floor before she could curtsey.

“In a hurry, are you?” Tahiri asked before she could stop herself.

He looked at her, a measuring look, then he grinned. “No. I just get tired of all this curtseying.”

“Ah yes. How rude of people to show you respect.”

He burst out laughing. “Finally, someone understands. I take it you’re new to court, Lady Danni?”

“It’s my first time here.” She winced. “Let me guess, it shows.”

“Actually, it does, yes. You’re blunt. And you don’t wear that dress as if you do it often.”

Her chin came up. “That’s pretty blunt yourself. Anyway, I can’t be too bad if you asked me to dance.”

“Easy,” he said, amusement sparking from his eyes. “I said you were blunt, I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It makes for a nice change, actually.”

She smiled at him, and thought that for a prince, he didn’t seem all that bad. “Well, if you like bluntness and people talking before they think, you’re in for a treat.”

He grinned, a flash of the real Cem showing through in the expression. “Good to know.” He sobered. “But I’m forgetting my duties. Have you met my brother yet?”

There were four Fel boys, she remembered, and two girls. “Which one?”

Again he chuckled. “The eligible one. Jagged. He’s just—oh.”

Tahiri followed his gaze towards a dark-haired young man. He wore the same uniform as Cem, and despite his much darker hair and broader shoulders, there was a definite family resemblance. He moved with purpose, straight-backed and proud.

And in his arms, smiling her flirty smile, was Alema Rar Ming.

They turned, and she caught sight of the expression on his face. He looked besotted as he watched Alema spin her charms around him, his eyes never leaving her.

“Doesn’t look very eligible to me,” she said, the words coming out once again before she could stop them.

Cem looked a little flustered. “I’m sorry. I’ll introduce you after the dance, all right?”

“No need,” Tahiri said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to sound—I mean, that’s not really why I’m here anyway, I just—oh, that sounds all wrong too.”

Cem’s smile was back. “You’re not here to try and marry Jagged, you mean.”

“Yeah. No. Exactly. Although I didn’t mean...” She shook her head, casting in vain for a way to talk her way out of the hole she was digging.

He studied her for a moment, then he chuckled again, a warm sound. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to my sister instead. I’ve got a feeling that you’ll have more fun with her anyway.”

​

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Brisha offered the twins muffins fresh from the oven and a fragrant tea, which they accepted gratefully. Jaina still wasn’t sure that she trusted the woman, but she didn’t sense any particular danger, either. Just to be on the safe side, she muttered a revealing chant over the food, and it turned up nothing. Jacen was an odd mix of edgy and enthusiastic, but he wolfed down the food gratefully.

The muffins were delicious. Brisha asked them questions while they ate, and between them, they recounted what had happened during the day.

“So we’re pretty much lost,” Jaina summed up. “And we were wondering if maybe...”

“You could help us get back home,” Jacen finished when she trailed off. He flashed Brisha a charming smile. “We’d be very grateful.”

“Oh, of course.” Brisha smiled back, but she looked worried. “But…oh, dear. I wonder what could have caused this. It’s strong magic, you understand. The forest is certainly capable of it, but to do it all of its own volition...” She shook her head. “Very odd.”

“You’re saying someone was behind it?” Jacen asked.

“I couldn’t think who,” Brisha said. “It’s very strange.”

Jaina and Jacen exchanged a look, and she knew that they were both remembering the old woman. Did Elan have something to do with this? Now that she thought about it, Jaina realised just how odd it was that they’d met her. And she’d said that she lived nearby, even though they could count their neighbours on one hand and had known all of them for years.

“No sense worrying about it tonight,” Brisha went on. “You two need to rest. We’ll see about getting you back home tomorrow.”

“We’d rather go now,” Jaina said firmly.

“It’s dark now, “ Brisha said, her voice gentle. “You’ll get lost even further. The forest will sleep tonight and maybe tomorrow, it will have stopped its games. If not, I have my ways of persuading it.”

It was probably supposed to sound reassuring, but Jaina couldn’t help noticing that such “persuading” would probably work both ways. Her suspicions about that chance meeting with the old woman grew, entangling with the bad feeling that was currently creeping up around Brisha. She smiled anyway. “If you can persuade it, why not do it now? I can’t sleep now anyway. I just want to go home.”

“Nonsense,” Brisha said. “Of course you can sleep. Sleep, and tomorrow, the world will look different. I promise.”

Again, it sounded reassuring, but with an odd note of threat behind it regardless. Jaina tried to muster another argument, but she was feeling tired now. Beside her, Jacen’s eyes seemed to be drifting shut.

That was bad. Jaina knew that it was bad. But she’d checked the food and the drink, hadn’t she? She’d checked...

“Sleep,” Brisha’s voice said, oddly hypnotising.

Jaina shook her head. “We need to leave.”

“Oh, you are a stubborn one, aren’t you?” Brisha shook her head. “But you want to sleep now.”

Unfortunately, she was right. Jaina’s lids were heavy, as was the rest of her. Sleep sounded really good...

“I checked,” she said, hearing the drowsiness in her own voice. “You didn’t drug us, you couldn’t...”

“You checked the food.” Brisha’s voice sounded sympathetic. “You didn’t check the air, or my voice, or any amount of other things.” Her voice grew further and further away. Jaina heard more than felt her own head fall onto Jacen’s shoulder. Brisha’s voice followed her into sleep, still reassuring and threatening all at once. “But don’t worry. I’ll teach you.”

 

What a suspenseful ending! I'm really digging this so far!

 

Ahh! Creepy lady in the woods is creepy! Jaina should have run.

 

This is fun! Well, except for Brisha…she's still delightfully creepy.

 

Oh what fun at the ball! Tahiri made a hit with Cem and Raynar. Bluntness - now I'll just bet that's refreshing in court circles. But Jaina and Jacen are in a tight pickle! That Brisha - I wouldn't be surprised if she ended up stuffing them in that oven of hers.

 

Yikes, Brisha is creepy! Tahiri with Cem and Raynar was cute.

 

Oh yes, Brisha is bad news. The Solo twins sure know how to pick 'em. I'm glad you guys are all enjoying this, still! New post will be up shortly.

 

Tags: @Ceillean, @Nyota's Heart, @taramidala, @windu4

* * *​

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The dance ended, and Alema looked at Jag one last time, a secret smile playing around her mouth and her eyes seeming to promise—Jag struggled not to think about that. She curtsied, and turned her attention to another young man, as if Jag hadn’t mattered at all.​

It was frustrating, but some part of him relished the challenge. He’d had women fawning over him all evening. Alema was different, and he had to fight back the urge to follow her, draw her away from her idiot dance partner, and convince her that he could, indeed, matter a whole lot.

He was vaguely aware that his little brother stood a few meters away, talking to a blond young woman Jag didn’t recognise. He did recognise the amusement radiating in his direction. Cem was good at that.

Manners demanded that he go over and meet the young lady, but he couldn’t handle another introduction right now.

Instead, he found himself a glass of his father’s favourite Corellian whiskey and retreated to a quiet corner. He downed the alcohol in one and shook his head. He had to get a grip. This wasn’t normal.

But the memory of long-lashed green eyes and that impossible, provocative, promising smile kept interfering with his thoughts. He felt as though he was drowning in it. And the worst part was that he liked it.

No, scratch that. The worst part was that he had no idea how she felt about the whole matter. That was what he needed to figure out first, because if it was hopeless, then he might as well give up right now.

Cherith chose that moment to appear and drop onto the seat beside him. “What an evening! I never thought it’d be this much fun. Hey, are you all right?”

Jag nodded reflexively. “I’m fine.”

“You look dazed. Fell under her spell, did you?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, I saw how you and that Twi’lek girl were looking at each other. Cem’s going to be laughing all week.” Cherith grinned. “What’s going on, Jag?”

“I’m trying to figure that out.” Jag thought for another moment. “Cherith?”

“Jagged?”

He couldn’t believe he was about to ask his sister for actual advice in this matter, but he was low on options, and time was pressing. “If you liked a man,” he began, and Cherith stared at him.

“Seriously?”

“I can’t figure her out,” said Jag, already having regrets about bringing it up in the first place.

Her eyebrows rose. “Wow, you really are smitten. Are you sure you’re all right? Drink anything funny?”

“Cherith.”

Wynssa chose that moment to flounce over to them, taking the seat to Jag’s other side. “Did you guys see who Cem—”

“Not now, Wyn,” said Jag.

A tactical error; all that ever did was alert Wynssa that something was going on. She looked over at Cherith. “What’s wrong with Jag?”

“He’s taken a fancy to one of the girls.”

“Ooh,” said Wynssa, even as Jag’s heart tried to sink to somewhere around his knees. “Is it that elven girl who was all over you?”

Hope blossomed in his heart at that. “She was?”

“You didn’t notice that?” Cherith was still looking at him as though he’d just sprouted horns and declared himself king under the mountain. “She’s just playing hard to get. Jag, I know that’s the whole point of this evening, but are you sure about her?”

The reply stuck in his throat. Playing hard to get. Now that he came to think of it, he vaguely remembered various comments from various female relatives on the matter. And Alema’s behaviour fit perfectly. How had he not seen that?

It was almost as though he’d fallen under a spell, he realised. He’d heard people talking about love that way, but now that he thought about it, it didn’t make much sense. He remembered belatedly that he’d felt almost the same way about Numa not half an hour earlier. Love didn’t happen twice in the space of half an hour, surely. And not exactly the same way each time.

And not to Jagged Fel. He was many things, but flighty was not one of them.

All right. His feelings were clearly compromised right now, so he needed to use his head.

Maybe Cherith was right. It couldn’t be magic; the Emperor had banned the Jedi many years ago, and good riddance. But maybe it was an elvish thing. The only elves he really knew were those of the Chiss clans, from Csilla in the far east of Nirauan, who’d allied themselves with his father. He’d never met a Twi’lek before. Maybe it was something they did. Or maybe the Rar sisters were just that good.

That only left one question.

“Why me?” Jag asked.

Cherith frowned at him over the rim of her glass, but then she seemed to catch onto his meaning. Her peal of laughter surprised him, and drew some looks from around them. “Seriously? You can’t figure out why a young lady would try to weave her web around the prince of Nirauan, who’s more or less explicitly looking for a wife?”

For the first time in his life, Jag felt like a complete idiot. All he could think to say was, “Ah.”

“You really like her?” Wynssa asked. “I didn’t think girls like that were your type.”

“Girls like what?” said Jag, whose brain still wasn’t back to full capacity yet.

“You know. All superficial and slutty—”

Jag and Cherith both turned an admonishing glare on their little sister. “Wynssa!”

“What?”

Cherith shook her head. “First of all, even if she was, there’s nothing wrong with it, so you don’t have to say it in that tone. And secondly, have you seen their mother? Lady Callista? It’s pretty obvious that she expects her daughters to make a good marriage. She’s pushing them. What would you do if you were under that kind of pressure? It’s not easy.”

Jag had no idea how Cherith had figured all of this out so fast, but then, he reminded himself, he’d been distracted.

“She doesn’t need you judging her for it,” Cherith went on. “She’s got it tough enough as it is, with a mother like that.”

Wynssa fell silent, but Jag put down his glass and got to his feet. “I do believe I’ve solved this particular problem,” he said. “Excuse me.”

* * *​

Alema smiled when he approached her again.


“I have decided to push my luck,” Jag said. “May I have another dance, Miss Alema?”

She agreed, and he didn’t miss the swift triumphant look she shot at her sister. When he caught sight of her mother, she was looking on with a glowing smile.

As he and Alema moved through the dance steps, he could feel that odd fog trying to lure him in again. His heart began to beat faster, but he willed it to slow down again and reminded himself that he was being manipulated. His emotions were compromised.

Lift, draw, aim, exhale, release.

His mind began running through archery drills, mentally correcting posture, assessing wind conditions, calculating the flight path. He could almost hear Instructor Grave’s voice in his head, repeating the mantra he’d heard over and over.

The fog stayed back.

“Your Highness?” Alema asked eventually. Her eyes looked less interesting now, and when her body brushed against his, it was just that—a simple touch. “You look distracted.”

Lift, draw aim, exhale, release.

“You are distracting, Miss Alema,” he said smoothly. “I should think that half the men in this room have stepped on someone’s toes at least once over watching you.”

“Flatterer,” she said with a hint of flirty disdain.

“I shouldn’t think it possible to flatter a woman so lovely as you,” he said, leaning forward slightly and lowering his voice.

She gave him a look that said she looked right through that one, too, but she was smiling. “I’m glad I please you, your Highness.”

At that point, the dance called for them to weave separately around another couple, which Jag counted a stroke of luck because Grave’s criticisms of his form were getting harder and harder to recall.

Time to switch tactics.

“Are you?” he asked when they were face to face again. “Or are you glad to please your mother?”

She frowned. “Your Highness?”

“I couldn’t help noticing how she looked at you,” he said. “My mother looks at me like that when I’ve done well in a combat contest, or when my tutors praise me.”

“I’m sure she has cause to do so often, then,” said Alema, her voice light.

“Does yours?” he asked, although that question bordered on rudeness.

He was rewarded with a flash of emotion, gone almost as soon as it appeared. “What are you implying? That I live to please my mother? That I live to please men, in order to please my mother?”

“No.” He twirled her out to arm’s length before drawing her back in. “That’s not what you live for, no matter what anyone might be trying to tell you.”

Her eyes grew wide for a brief moment before the dance took her away to arm’s length again. As they stepped together, arms interlocked, she said, “You are very forward, Your Highness.”

“I adapt to the circumstances,” said Jag, deadpan.

Alema laughed, and for the first time, the sound was genuine.

When the dance ended, she looked at him, and for the first time he felt like he was really seeing her. “Thank you for the dance,” she said. “Really.”

He bowed. “It was my pleasure, Miss Alema.”

* * *​

The evening definitely got even better after Jagged had dealt with Alema—exactly how he’d managed it, Tahiri wasn’t sure. It was the first time she’d seen a man come under the sisters’ spell and overcome it of his own volition.

She understood it a little better when Jagged joined her and Cem, and she saw him up close. He smiled at her and seemed nice enough, but there was enough steel in there to supply a smithy.

She was asked to dance again, and again, and she saw her stepsisters a few more times. They danced like she’d seen them do at home, swaying their hips, practically oozing seduction. The young man leading Alema around the dance floor now was almost cross-eyed, Tahiri saw with private amusement. She only saw Callista once, from a distance, and she had to wonder if it was chance or some other force that kept her stepmother away from her.

Eventually, all too soon, the dancing and the food and the heat caught up with Tahiri. Her shoes pinched, and her feet were starting to hurt. She felt flushed.

She excused herself from the next dance and went to find another glass of juice and rejoin Wynssa.

The youngest princess was sitting on a comfortable couch a little out of the way, apparently oblivious to the admiring glances of the young men around her. Jagged and Cem were less oblivious, and Tahiri almost giggled whenever she caught sight of their glares. It made her wish that she’d had a brother. Not that she’d need one to protect her from overeager young men, but it was nice to think that someone cared about you.

“Tired?” Wynssa asked when Tahiri took a glass from a nearby servant. “Here, sit down.”

“Thanks.” Tahiri sank gratefully onto a cushion.

“All that dancing gets tiring, doesn’t it?” Wynssa said.

“It’s all a bit overwhelming,” Tahiri admitted. “There are so many people here...”

Wynssa nodded in understanding. “Why don’t you go outside for a while? You could take a walk in the garden.”

That sounded good to Tahiri. In fact, it sounded more than good. “I think I will,” she said. “Thank you, your Highness.”

“I’m sure Cem would go with you if you don’t want to go alone,” Wynssa said. “But we have guards everywhere, too.”

“I’ll be fine on my own,” Tahiri said. She smiled at Wynssa, who was so different from the spoiled princess she’d imagined. She hadn’t expected to meet her at all, if she was honest, nor her brothers. They were different, too. Not at all the arrogant lordlings she’d imagined, even if they did hold rather Imperial views. “Thank you,” she said again. “Thanks for being so nice to me.”

“And you,” Wynssa said with more than courtly grace. “I hope we’ll see you again.”

Tahiri waved at her and left, meandering through the crowd. A short walk along a hallway led her to a wide door leading outside. She ducked through it and took a deep breath. It was deliciously cold after the heat of the ballroom, and for a moment she just stood there and savoured it.

There was no one else in sight, so she took a few more steps along the paved verandah outside the door. On the far side, a little path led off past some flowerbeds, and Tahiri glimpsed what looked like a garden a little bit ahead. Drink still in hand, she walked on.

When she reached a small expanse of lawn, she kicked off her shoes and stepped onto the grass. It was cold, but she didn’t mind. She could feel the pain in her heels and toes being soothed away, and she looked up at the stars and smiled.

It was nice here. The ball, the people, the dancing, the chocolate…but if she was honest, it was out here, barefoot and looking up at the sky, that she felt truly free for the first time.

 

Glad Jag's sisters put him to the wise where Alema is concerned I really like the image of Tahiri with her shoes off It really seems she had a nice, memorable time.

 

Great update! Jagged and Cem being protective older brothers is typical but awesome.

 

Fairy tales plus Star Wars? Yes please! I love it! Your Jacen is hilarious, I always enjoy Villian-Callista, and the Solo twins as Hansel and Gretal is just perfection. Their quip about dropping the breadcrumbs? What a perfect combination of Solo sibling humor and a narrative wink to the reader. Seriously great job.

But uhhh... I see Kyp in the dramatis personae. When is he going to show up?

And I see you tagging for updates- I'll take one, if you don't mind!

 

Nyota's Heart - yeah, it's a good thing Jag has his sisters around to help him! And yep, Tahiri's definitely enjoying herself so far!

Revanfan1 - thanks! Yep, those Fels look out for their own!

Durroness - thank you! I'm glad you like it so far. It's a lot of fun weaving fairytales and SW canon references together. As for Kyp... he'll show up, I promise, and he'll have a fairly big part to play. But it'll be another few updates yet before he gets to debut. Hopefully it'll be worth the wait though! And welcome aboard the tag train!

 

Tags: @Ceillean, @Nyota's Heart, @taramidala, @windu4, Durroness

Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged!

* * *​

The stable boy had directed Anakin to the kitchens, where the girls seemed to take a shine to him even though he hardly managed to say two sentences to them. It was an odd experience. He was used to his brother getting all of the female attention wherever they went.

But Jacen wasn’t here now.

One of the other drivers sat next to him, winking at the girls and complaining loudly about the arrogant, overbearing lady he’d driven here. His name was Uldir, and he looked to be a few years older than Anakin.

“How about you?” Uldir asked him after he’d finished his rant. “Yours like that, too?”

“No.” Anakin shook his head. “He even tipped me.”

“Oh, lucky you,” Uldir said without apparent jealousy. “I swear, sometimes I think the higher up they get the worse they behave.”

“Not the royal family,” one of the girls interjected. “And they’re as high as it gets, aren’t they?”

Anakin could hear his brother’s reply to that one—something about a certain herb, apparently—and was, once again, grateful that Jacen wasn’t here.

“Yeah, but they’ve got nothing to prove,” Uldir said. “And the ones who barely count as noble, they’re busy trying to be nice to ingratiate themselves. But the ones in between…ugh.” He shuddered.

Anakin laughed with the others. They kept up a steady stream of talk until the remainders of the first course started coming back into the kitchen. It was soup and some kind of spicy bread, and it tasted delicious. Anakin dug in.

Four courses later, he felt so stuffed that he was sure he was about to burst. Beside him, Uldir had given up before the cake, but one of the girls had promised to save him some for later, so he wasn’t all too sad about it.

Anakin stretched. “Wow. That was good. I’ve never been so full.”

“I can’t even move,” Uldir proclaimed, lounging back in his seat like a well-fed cat.

“I can.” Anakin got to his feet. “I need to stretch my legs for a bit.”

Uldir chuckled. “Good luck. Yell if you fall over and can’t get up.”

As soon as he stepped through the kitchen door, silence descended. He could hear faint, muffled music in the air, and the girls’ chatter from behind him, but mostly, it was blessedly quiet out here. He took a deep breath.

The grounds outside of Hand Fortress were expansive and well-organised, with paved verandahs outside the royals’ rooms and little paths connecting the castle to the gardens around it. Anakin wandered along the castle wall, thinking to catch a glimpse of the nobles within, perhaps through a window.

There were no guards here. He supposed that they were up on the outside walls and stationed by the doors, but he did not run into any on patrol.

It occurred to him that he could probably scale the outside wall; the windows on the first floor were tall and wide, and open. There was bound to be plenty of useful information in the king’s study, after all, and more besides. A jewel or two would go a long way towards preparing for the winter, and the royal family wasn’t likely to miss it.

First things first. He should probably find out who was here before he tried anything risky. He made it to one brightly-lit window, and carefully looked inside.

He could see the two thrones, but they were empty; apparently, the king and queen were dancing. The dance floor was a swirl of expensive skirts and elaborate hairdos, the men mere props for the women’s beauty. Anakin’s eyes swept over the crowd, but he could not see the Emperor anywhere. Apparently, that had been just a rumour.

He did spot some Imperial finery, though. A man in the uniform of a high-ranking Coruscanti noble, probably an ambassador, danced with a middle-aged woman with a sparkling crown in her blond hair. Worth enough to buy an entire new farmstead along with livestock, if Anakin was any judge. That was probably the queen, then.

And the presence of the ambassador meant that the Emperor really was interested in a closer alliance with Nirauan. Anakin looked for other Imperial representatives. It would mean something to his mother, but he’d never had much time for politics. He was only here to gather the information.

He found two more men, of lower rank than the ambassador to judge by their less elaborate uniforms. And there was a girl, too, a young woman about his own age who was subtly focused on the ambassador, seeking approval. Her elegant gown had a simple, slightly strict, high-collared style that he recognised as Coruscanti.

A young man stood near her, watching the dancers. He was black-haired and clad in an expensive-looking tailored outfit. His features betrayed nothing, but his straight posture and closed expression made him look like the definition of arrogant. Most of the young women in the room seemed to be more or less focused on him, so he was probably Prince Jagged. Anakin felt his lip twist, imagining what Jaina was going to say about that particular part of his report. Jaina was unbearable when she was proved right.

He watched the scene some more, tracing connections and trying to identify the dancers by their clothing and behaviour.

Two of the girls caught his eye, or rather, his senses. They were blue-skinned and pretty, with their hair-tails identifying them as Twi’lek elves, and they moved with typical elvish grace. But they weren’t stopping at body language and flirtation. Anakin could almost see the subtle strands of magic twirling around the prince, luring, tempting.

He narrowed his eyes. They played a dangerous game, using magic in public. He filed that away, too, as something to ask his uncle Luke about. The girls were about his age, and he’d never seen them before, so where had they learned magic?

Jagged seemed not to notice, even though Anakin could see no kind of magic barrier. Not that he’d expect one, since by all accounts the Fel family was as unmagical as Anakin’s father. And yet, Jagged didn’t seem to be even remotely affected. The strands of magic seemed to fade as they reached him, and he remained unmoved while other young men were almost forgetting to breathe as they watched the two girls. You had to hand him that, at least, Anakin thought with a small stirring of respect.

He watched for another while, making sure that he would remember everything. The clock showed just after ten, which gave him a good two hours before the dancing would wind to a close and the guests would begin to take their leave. Plenty of time to sneak upstairs and see what was on offer.

He got to his feet and moved away from the window, already assessing the wall for a good route upwards. But as he moved on across a wide verandah, something brought him up short. It was the merest stir of a feeling, a whisper of sound. Anakin looked around.

Footsteps, to his right, off in the garden. A sense of freedom, and a delight so strong that he found himself moving towards it before he’d even made a conscious decision.

A small path led into the castle gardens, quickly disappearing from sight of the castle amidst tall bushes and hedges. And around the corner, he found what he’d been looking for.

She was barefoot on the grass, dancing under the moonlight with nothing but the breeze for company. Her blonde hair was frosted with silver moonlight, her dress sparkling as she moved. It was nothing like the formal, courtly dance he’d seen through the window. She twirled and spun around, legs kicking and flying, arms spread wide. It looked like the essence of freedom, and for a moment he thought that she was a nature spirit or something, dancing on the grass like a figure from a tale.

She stopped when she saw him, her breathing coming hard and fast. For a moment, they only looked at each other. Despite the darkness, Anakin could see that her eyes were green, an oddly warm colour. She was pretty, too, delicate features, a button nose, and stubborn, full lips that were currently slightly parted while she stared at him. He didn’t recognise her, but something inside him seemed to.

The girl recovered first. “Hey,” she said, in a voice that sounded like a bubbling mountain stream. “Who are you? You look familiar. You’re not one of the guests, though, right? What’re you doing here?”

“I, ah.” Anakin realised that those were too few words even for his standards, and struggled to find a few more. “Anakin Solo. I’m a driver.”

Her eyes grew wide, but she recovered and gave him a knowing look that made him feel like he’d just been caught with his hand in the honey jar. “Driver? You mean wanted thief?”

Uh-oh. “What? No, I—”

She was already shaking her head. “Oh, yes. I saw the wanted poster. Anakin Solo. No wonder you look familiar! They got a pretty good likeness. Compliments to the artist.”

Anakin cursed inwardly. How in the hells had a young lady from who knew where seen that damned wanted poster? More to the point, how was he going to get out of this one? If he ran, she was sure to call the guards, and the whole place would be locked down. Better to wait until she called them, duck out of their way, and get out while they were busy running towards the screaming girl.

She was watching him as if following his thoughts, and then she held up a hand. “I’m not going to scream for the guards,” she said. “You really are here as a driver, aren’t you?”

He felt his jaw drop. “How—yes. I am.”

She cocked her head to the side, appraising him. She grinned. “I’m guessing that whoever hired you doesn’t know about your other job, right?”

Anakin shook his head, but her behaviour was confusing him more by the second. “You’re not turning me in?”

“Why should I?” she countered. “This is Nirauan, not Alderaan. Anyway...” She trailed off, and he could sense some kind of struggle within her. It felt vaguely guilty. “Let’s just say that I haven’t been entirely honest in coming here, either. It’d be a bit hypocritical.”

He should run, he knew. He should try to get out of here before she came to her senses. He shouldn’t trust her.

But he did. There was something very familiar about her, about this whole situation. It felt like a mild déja vu, only different... Anakin shook his head and tried to get his thoughts back in order. “You never told me your name.”

“You never asked.”

“I’m asking now.”

“It’s Danni,” she said.

“No, it isn’t.” The words were out before he could even think, and the certainty he felt surprised him. The brief flash of guilt he felt from her proved him right, and he knew that this was the big equaliser. More than that: for some reason, this was really important. He could escape from the guards. She couldn’t escape from this.

He took a step towards her, feeling suddenly reckless as a slow grin spread over his face. “Not entirely honest, huh? Come on. What’s your name, Goldilocks? You know mine.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said with a touch of indignation.

He was being insufferable and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to help it. “Give me a real name then.”

“I can’t tell you,” she said, her eyes imploring. “I really can’t.”

He could tell that she spoke the truth, and his grin widened. He owed her; now, she owed him, too.

She knew it, too, and her eyes flashed at him. “Look, I kept your little secret, Poster Boy,” she said. “I don’t have to. If we call the guards, who do you think will end up worse off?”

“That poster’s out of date,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he was even arguing; turning her in would be about the most despicable thing he’d ever done, and he was pretty sure that whatever the reason for her secrecy, it was far more honourable than his. But he couldn’t quite let it go, either. “The bounty’s been called off.”

“Sure it has,” she scoffed. “You’re not going to turn me in any more than I’ll call the guards. And the more we argue about it, the more likely someone will come along and hear us. Come on, Anakin.”

They looked at each for another moment, then Anakin gave in. “Yeah. All right. I’m not stupid.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she said, but she was smiling.

He chuckled. “So why are you out here alone?”

“I’m not alone, you’re here,” she pointed out with a smile. “But I can leave if you want.”

“Uhm, no, that’s not what I...”

“I know it’s not.” She grinned again. It was a good look for her. “Actually, I came here to be alone. And because it’s so stuffy in the ball room, and my feet hurt. I couldn’t take another two seconds in those shoes.”

His gaze was drawn down to her bare feet, pale against the dark grass. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No. I prefer going barefoot. Shoes always pinch. They’re just a form of torture for your feet.”

He chuckled at her conviction. “And warm.”

“It’s not that cold when you’re moving around,” she countered. “Anyway, I’d rather be cold than in pain. So, Anakin, what are you doing out here anyway? Aside from sneaking up on unsuspecting young girls, I mean.”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” Anakin said honestly. “I didn’t think anyone was out here.”

“Well, neither did I, and look how that worked out. Still, at least you’re not one of those—” She broke off, looking embarrassed.

He grinned, the lop-sided grin that his mother swore he’d inherited straight from his father. “One of those what?”

Her chin came up. “Arrogant pompous jerks who can only talk about the size of their treasury.” She narrowed her eyes. “Although I’m starting to rethink the ‘arrogant’ part.”

“I’m not arrogant,” he said. “So you didn’t like the guys in there, huh?”

“The prince is fine,” she said. “They all are. So was Raynar.”

“Raynar?” He raised an eyebrow. “Raynar Thul?”

She frowned. “You know him?”

He smirked. “I’m his driver.” And if Raynar Thul was nice in comparison to the others in there, he reflected, they really must be something.

She narrowed her eyes again as if she suspected what he was thinking. “He’s good company,” she said. “Didn’t threaten to turn me in even once.”

“But you left anyway.”

“Like I said, to be alone for a bit,” she countered. “I didn’t know it was crowded out here, too.”

“Crowded?” He looked around pointedly. “I can leave.”

“Oh, you’re not so bad for a wanted thief. And there’s only one of you.” She looked around. “Well, so far.”

He heard voices now, too, coming from the castle. He looked back at the girl he still thought of as Goldilocks. It probably wasn’t a good idea for the two of them to be seen together out here, the lady and the driver boy.

She was looking back at him, a glint in her eyes. “You know, I just realised I didn’t really get very far. I kind of want to see more of the gardens. You know. That way.” She pointed away from the castle.

Anakin grinned, and recklessness took hold of him again. Nervousness rose to match it, but before it had a chance to stop him, he took another step towards the mystery girl and held out a hand. “Then let’s explore a bit.”

She hesitated, but then she took his hand. Her touch sent a little tingle through his skin straight to his core. He ignored it and broke into a run, still grinning like a fool at the feel of her hand in his and the sight of her keeping pace beside him, skirts flying and face alive with delight.

 

Wonderful! A/T are snarky and mischievous together.

 

I don't know why, but I couldn't get 'Tangled' out of my head as I read this! I mean that as a compliment, actually, it's one of my favorite Disney movies...

Kinda surprised Anakin didn't recognize Goldilocks from their meeting a few days earlier…must be all the magic that Alema and Numa are tossing about! Thanks for the fun-ness!

 

Anakin and Tahiri were so sweet!

 

Nyota's Heart - yep, they do seem to be hitting it off, despite themselves!

SiouxFan - funnily enough, watching "Tangled" sort of inspired this entire venture. I watched it with my mother, and she pointed out that Rapunzel and Flynn were a lot like Leia and Han. And then the idea kind of snowballed and became this monster. But thank you! I'm there with you, it's one of my favourites as well. As for Anakin... all I'll say is, he's got a lot on his mind here. Maybe given a bit more time...

taramidala - thanks! I love A/T. They're just so cute.

 

Tags: @Ceillean, @Nyota's Heart, @taramidala, @windu4, @Durroness

* * *​

After Tahiri left, a young man tried to claim the seat she’d vacated, where Wynssa sat with a smile on her face. This prompted a sudden, intense, and completely silent race between Jag, Cem, and the young man. Jag won it by shouldering past the fellow in apparent oblivion and sinking onto the couch with an unusually loud sigh.

“Ah,” he said. “Are you having a good time, Wyn? Tired?”

“Not very,” Wynssa said immediately. “I was just talking to Tahiri.”

“I saw.” Jag turned to look at Cem, who was sauntering over carrying two glasses of wine.

“Here’s your drink, Jagged,” he said, holding it out.

Jag inclined his head. “Why thank you, Cem.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Wynssa’s wannabe suitor beat a hasty retreat.

Wynssa was frowning, looking from Jag to Cem and back, clearly oblivious to the entire byplay. Jag changed the subject. “So, Miss Tahiri, was it? I think I missed her when she arrived.”

“She arrived late,” Wynssa said. “Something about a carriage mishap.” She slanted a look at Cem. “Lucky that Cem was there to meet her, huh?”

“Yes, I suppose it was,” Cem said. He rolled his eyes at their expressions. “Don’t even start.”

Jag almost smiled. “You did introduce her to everyone.”

“Because I’m polite,” Cem said in tones of strained patience.

“She’s quite pretty.” Jag was antagonising his brother and he knew it, but better that than dwell on the fact that of the dozens of girls he’d met tonight, not one had stood out. He would rather go for a year without archery practice than admit it out loud, but he had been hoping that this ball would yield the result that his mother wanted. It would have been nice to meet someone he genuinely liked, someone suitable for a prince, and close this annoying chapter.

But that would have been far too easy.

“Yes, she is,” Cem agreed. “If you like her, why don’t you ask her to visit again someday?”

“She’s too young for me.”

“Yeah right. Five years, Jag. That’s nothing.”

“Two is even less,” Jag said with a smug smile.

Wynssa groaned. “Will you be quiet? I bet she wouldn’t want either of you anyway with the way you keep arguing. And her opinion does count, you know.”

“True.” That was actually the other part of Jag’s problem. He’d never had much problem when it came to girls being interested in him, but he was a prince of Nirauan. None of his siblings had any problems getting attention, either.

But he didn’t want someone who only liked his status. The woman he married shouldn’t do so because she wanted to be a princess, but because she wanted him.

The trouble with that was, he had no idea who he was without his status. He certainly had no idea if Jagged Fel, everyday man, would be half as appealing as the Prince of Nirauan.

And he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was going to be hell to figure out.

“She has plenty of opinions.” Cem was grinning again. “That’s why I like her. She’s interesting to talk to, no simpering compliments or blushing. We don’t have enough people like that around here.”

Jag had to agree. Nirauan had never been a very formal court, because his parents both knew the value of a day’s work and his father had always been a very straightforward man, but most of their peers were different. Hand Fortress was a great place to grow up, but it posed a challenge once you had grown up.

“All the more reason to keep her around then,” Wynssa suggested with a smirk at Cem.

Cem rolled his eyes. “Tell Jag. He’s the stud up for auction here.”

Jag decided that such a comment did not deserve to be dignified with an answer, and drained his glass instead. He caught sight of the Duchess of Manarai, looking elegant and, yes, beautiful in her Imperial-chic gown, and got to his feet. “I am neglecting my guests,” he said. “And I think it’s about time you children went to bed.”

Their indignant noises and looks followed him to the dance floor, but at least it meant that the smile on his face was a genuine one for once.

* * *​

​

The palace gardens were quiet, save for the rustling of a light breeze in the shrubs and the lonely song of a nightingale.

That, and the sound of two pairs of feet running along the path, accompanied by the occasional hushed giggle.

When they’d passed through a long, arched passage created by some well-tended bushes, they found themselves on another expanse of lawn, removed from the path and surrounded by hedges and rose bushes. A bench stood a few meters away, beside a small sundial on a pillar. Tahiri tugged at Anakin’s hand to make him stop and held up a hand, breathless and unable to stop smiling. “Wait wait,” she said. “I’m pretty sure we’ve lost them.”

Anakin was smiling, too, a crooked expression that made him look like a true scoundrel. When he spoke, a touch of shyness shone through it, looking completely out of place and transforming the roguish expression into something adorable. “Right. You tired?”

“Not really. I just had to get out of that hall, get some air. It’s so nice out here.” She stepped away from him and did a little twirl, looking up at the stars. They and the sliver of moon provided the only light; the glow from the palace lamps did not reach out here. The night spread all around her, leaving her feeling open and almost vulnerable in the dark.

He cocked his head, watching her. “Yeah.”

For the first time, she noticed that he had a knife sheath strapped to his belt. It should have made her nervous, she realised, but by the time she thought of that, she’d already begun feeling safer. Protected. That was nonsense, too, since she had her own helper tucked away beneath her dress, but there it was. The feeling of having someone on her side was rare, but it spread through her now.

She trusted Anakin Solo, even if she knew next to nothing about him. She cleared her throat. “Hey, you know, you still haven’t told me why you’re out here. We got sidetracked back there, and I really am curious. I thought the drivers all just waited around the kitchen or something.”

“I was just stretching my legs.”

When she looked over at him, expecting more, he went on, “I spent all day driving.”

“I guess. So you do that a lot? Driving, I mean, is that your job?”

“Not really. I do a bit of everything.”

When he didn’t elaborate, she chuckled. “You really don’t talk much, do you?”

His eyes came back to her. “I think you talk enough for both of us.”

He had a point. “True. My… People always say I talk too much. But, you know, if it gets too much just tell me to shut up or something.”

Anakin shook his head. “I don’t mind. Tell me about the dance. It’s your first time at court, right?”

She hesitated briefly, but the excitement she felt at finally seeing it all and being a part of it won out, and she joined him on the bench. She told him about the dancing, Raynar, Cem, and Wynssa, and began describing how Jagged had dealt with the Rar twins -- leaving out the fact that they were her sisters.

“I saw them,” Anakin said when she described the scene. “Trying to weave their little spell. Of seduction, you know,” he added a little hastily, and Tahiri almost gaped at him. How had he figured that out? He had to know something about magic.

The mysteries around Anakin Solo just kept piling up. She made a mental note to ask Tionne about him when she saw her godmother again.

“Trying to snare the prince, I guess,” she said casually, pretending to buy his rather terrible save. “Like everyone else there.”

Anakin’s blue eyes probed hers. “Including you?”

She shook her head emphatically. “I seriously doubt I’d even qualify. I just wanted to see the court. Dance a little. Anyway, he’s not my type.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, oh.” Abruptly, she remembered something. “Wait, when did you see them? Or anyone? I thought you were in the garden.”

“You can see through the window from the garden. I looked in. I’d never seen the court before, either.”

That wasn’t the entire story, if she was any judge, but Tahiri let it go. The last thing she needed was to remind him that he had some unanswered questions of his own.

“Ogling all the pretty girls, huh?”

“I didn’t see any,” he said. “I guess you’d already left.”

The smile spread across her face before she could stop it, and it only got worse when she saw from the look on his face that it hadn’t been a slick line. For the second time, he’d passed right over her sisters in favour of her.

“Wow,” she said, grasping the first thing that came to mind. “All right, I’ve got to admit, that was good. I bet you’d fit right in at court with lines like that.”

He shook his head, his hair falling into his face as he did so. “I, uh, I didn’t mean—I just meant—”

The same feeling that had prompted that damned smile made her take pity on him. “I know what you meant.” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean that, anyway. You’d never fit in at court.”

“Probably not.” He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face with a careless gesture. “So…you were saying about the elf girls?”

 

Nice teasing and A/T are getting chummier