Before the Saga How It Ends | Epic | Kit'verse OCs

In chapter 22, General Barr says that a ladies' tea can be a pit of vipers, but I would say that it's true of the entire royal court. I love how you hint at the political ins and outs through Kit's POV, although I must say that, while there are certainly other padawans who are as politically inept as Kithera, offhand I can't think of any.

I'm going to disagree with Findswoman who said in her review of chapter 22 that Kit has gained another ally in General Barr – I don't think she's gained any allies at all, really. All these people (Barr, Aad'hish, Jahlil etc) are allies of the queen, and they want Kit to become one of their allies, not the other way around. They actually consider it a done deal that Kit is their natural ally, and that's precisely why Barr tells her so much about the military, but she just doesn't get it.

And judging by the exchange between Jahlil and Airo on the one hand, and Fa'rys on the other, it wouldn't take much to push the military into civil war. That made me curious to know the relative sizes of Aad’hish and Ma'arku's forces; Ma'arku doesn't have a reason to want to fight as long as he has the king's favour, but that could change if the king were out of the way.

Another thing that struck me over these two chapters is that the real piece of work in this story isn't the king (though he certainly is a piece of work, and he even has a lover? ) but the duchess. She's the viper to end all vipers, and that shows in her brief appearance in chapter 22, but also in chapter 23, where she's not even present. There's the fact that she's inculcated the slaver mentality into ‘Soma, which is bad enough; but what was really a yikes moment for me was to hear that she's pushing an underage girl towards that pig Ma'arku. She's clearly the brains behind the whole situation on the planet, and I can completely understand Aad’hish's concerned for the queen's safety. The duchess has managed to bring her son to power and she would be consolidating that if she could get 'Soma to marry Ma'arku, after which the queen would merely be a loose end that she can eliminate. At the same time, the queen has machinations of her own going on, like that envelope she slips to J'rar – I'm guessing that J'rar is her contact with the world outside the palace, so to speak, and I wonder if that's how Namia will find out where Kit is.

I have a feeling that the self-defence session for the ladies is going to be quite something. In chapter 22 Aad'hish tells Kit: "Know your place both as a Jedi and follow the rules of a slave," and that's advice that she would do well to heed, but she hasn't proven very good at it so far.

Lastly, before I go, I want to mention this exchange between Kit and Barr:

Oh the irony.

 

I'm glad you noticed it There are so many levels of plot going on (most of which are never actually shown in the story but have an impact on the ending that it's become quite a tangle to try and finish it and still make all of it work. Hopefully it'll all sort itself out...but I keep putting off actually writing more because I think I'm a little worried about stuffing it up.

'Soma is definitely an interesting piece of work (as everyone is about to discover in the next chapter). She's not everything she seems, and she could teach Kithera a lot about politics...and how to play them.

Ahh, yes...but it's also a definite gift that marks her as someone that belongs to a particular household (and race/group) - and Kithera's a bit too dense at the moment to realise just what an impact that could have...

Thank you

Oh definitely. I think I was watching Versailles tv show and The Great when I was writing this part - which is probably why there ended up with so much intrigue (would highly recommend both shows).

Hahahaha. This made me laugh. Someone who beta'd parts of this started calling Kithera 'padawan oblivious' because for someone who was brought up by Namia and Samukay she can be remarkably dense when it comes to playing politics - even when people are literally smacking her around the head with what she needs to know. I can assure you that eventually it all clicks into place, but it takes a long, long time. I think as we've discovered, she really, really, really was apprenticed to the wrong Master...

You are absolutely correct. They are playing their own game that started long before Kithera arrived, and they just think that she'll go along with said game even though they haven't actually clued her in to what she's supposed to do. They just think she'll work it out (she won't) or that she'll magically do what holovid Jedi do and solve the situation in a nice tidy episode without any bloodshed.

She's definitely the worst of all of them. Think Hamlet, but just change the genders of all the characters...

I mean I do adore Kit, but she's very much not a planner, or someone who can sit still long enough to join the piece - react first and then work out what you're doing...right?....Right???

Glad you enjoyed that...it was a bit of fun to put in there. I mean an army of Jedi would be terrifying - luckily no-one ever took advantage of that...did they

 

Chapter 24


“I have to go and chat with the other ladies,” J’meesha said gently as they moved away from the merchant’s table. She looked at Kithera. “‘'Soma has only a short while before she must return to her tutors.” There was a groan that the Queen ignored. “Please keep her safe and steer her away from any situations one of her age should not get into.”

Kithera nodded, unsure exactly what the Queen was charging her with. The Queen’s behaviour, and in fact the behaviour of the Sami' ruling class was making her head spin. Some treated her as if she was nothing more than a plaything, or less than human, but then others treated her as if she was an honoured guest.

“Let’s go and see Madam!” ‘Soma whispered as soon as J’meesha had taken a few steps in the other direction. She grasped Kithera’s hand, but the Jedi noticed that the girl had very carefully made sure it was her right one.

“Madam?” Kithera asked, but ‘'Soma was already pulling her through the room. She tried again. “We need to stick close to her Majesty, and you are supposed to go back to your tutors soon.”

“Jem won’t care,” ‘'Soma scoffed. “Besides you're a slave, so you can’t tell me what to do.”

Kithera frowned, glancing around at the other women. Some of them glanced their way, but most were busy eating, talking or watching the entertainers that were scattered throughout. There was no way any of them would offer to help. She decided a different tack might be necessary.

“I’m a Jedi, I could mind trick you into doing what I want.”

‘Soma paused long enough to give Kithera a long, considered look and then snorted.

“I don’t think so. If you could do that, you’d be out of here. Besides, that’s just a trick that the holovids show you. No-one can really do that.”

She tugged Kithera’s hand and led her through an open door and into another room, studded with couches and more women gossiping. The conversations seemed to pause as the two passed, and Kithera got the feeling they were being watched far more critically than ‘Soma realised. Even without the Force’s warning, her hackles were rising. There seemed to be something less cheerful than the airy room they’d just left.

In the far corner of the room a strange, billowing tent had been set up. Groups of women sat near the tent, reminding Kithera of the disorganised lines that often appeared at the healer’s halls. ‘Soma stopped in their midst, her posture straightening as she glanced down her nose at the small groups. It was a gesture that reminded Kithera of Namia when she wanted people to acquiesce to whatever she was proposing.

One or two women straightened too, but then slumped back in their chairs after a moment. ‘Soma was smiling.

“We should be next,” she said, triumphantly.

“Is this morning something your sister regularly holds?” Kithera asked quietly, trying to ignore the glares from some of the scattered groups. Maybe if she distracted the princess long enough, she could be convinced to return to the other room.

'Soma shrugged.

“Once a month or so. Before my father died, it was a major event because we had all the Ish-te nobility too, but they’ve all gone now.” She pouted and then brightened. “But this one is bigger though because all the Barons are coming.”

Kithera’s brow wrinkled. There had been a lot of mention of the Baron’s coming, but no-one had ever explained why. She tried for her most cheerful smile.

“The Barons? Why are they coming?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” ‘'Soma said, putting her hands on her hips. “Slaves shouldn’t ask questions.”

Kithera immediately ducked her head, hating herself for the gesture.

“I’m sorry, your highness. Jedi are taught to be curious.”

‘Soma regarded her seriously.

“What else are Jedi taught?”

Kithera tried to hide a smile. Perhaps this could be her avenue to distract the princess.

“Many things. How to fight. How to use the Force. We learn history, maths, science.”

‘Soma made a face.

“That’s not exciting at all. In the holovids all they do is meditate and try to lift up rocks.”

“We do mediate a lot.” She didn’t feel the need to clarify that it was something she hated. The constant music of the Force just made her want to do nothing but move, so being asked to sit still for hours was sometimes akin to torture.

“Princess perhaps-” Kithera started, but ‘Soma cut her off.

“Could you teach me how to fight?”

Kithera blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in conversational direction.

“Tomorrow, I’m teaching the ladies how to do some simple self-defence. You could ask the Queen if you could join.”

'Soma shook her head.

“No. Not that. That’s simple and boring. I mean proper fighting. The fighting that Jedi do.”

Kithera shook her head. “That takes many, many years of practice. I’ve been learning since I was a toddler and I still haven’t mastered all the forms.”

'Soma’s nose wrinkled. “J’meesha can fight properly.”

Kithera nodded, trying to process the small nuggets of information that ‘Soma was unwittingly dropping. She kept quiet, wondering how else she could prompt the girl.

“Your sister was taught self-defence?”

“No, she was taught proper fighting. How to lead an army kind of stuff. How to fight on a battlefield. Father made sure that she knew how to do all that stuff.” ‘Soma pouted. “But I’m much younger than she is. Auntie’s forbidden me from learning the same thing. She says my worth is in whom I marry. It isn’t fair.”

Kithera blinked, unsure of what to do with information, before she realised that hadn’t been the reaction ‘Soma was expecting. “No, I suppose that isn’t fair.”

'Soma folded her arms across her chest and pouted. “You don’t have to get married if you’re a Jedi, right?”

Kithera nodded.

“A Jedi is forbidden to have relationships. We do not marry unless it’s very special circumstances.” She thought of her Master and all of Namia’s rather obvious relationships. A sudden pang of homesickness hit her. It felt like forever since she’d stood in that field teasing her Master about how many relationships she’d had in Kithera’s apprenticeship. She wondered where Namia was now.

“I wish I was a Jedi,” 'Soma said. “It would make life easier. You could right all the world’s wrongs.”

Kithera was about to ask what she meant when the tent flapped open and a grey-haired woman came out. She eyed the line and then pointed to where they stood.

“The princess is next,” the woman intoned. There was a murmur amongst the waiting women, but none of them moved. ‘Soma grinned, almost skipped forward as she grabbed Kithera’s wrist again and pulled her forward. Kithera had no choice but to follow; her sense of foreboding growing the closer she came to the tent. The woman had retreated, leaving the door to flap closed. ‘Soma stood for a minute outside and Kithera realised with a start that was supposed to open it.

She did and then followed the young princess inside. The inside of the tent was, unsurprisingly, darker than the already dimly lit outer room. The only illumination was a soft glow, the source of which Kithera could not make out, but it was enough to see the white-haired Ish-te woman staring at her with undisguised curiosity. She waved a hand at the chairs next to the table and then curtseyed slightly towards the princess.

“Your highness, you delight me with your presence,” the woman said. “Are you here for a reading? Want to know about a potential suitor? Your future? Talk to someone from the other side?”

Kithera glanced sideways as 'Soma snorted. The giggles and smiles were gone, replaced by a cold mask and the same penetrating look as earlier.

“I don’t care about any of my suitors, and my future is in the hands of my sister and my Aunt. No,” she said her hand suddenly nestled in the middle of Kithera’s back as she pushed her forward. “I want you to read her future.”

Kithera stumbled as ‘Soma pushed her towards the table. The woman’s eyes narrowed.

“May I ask why? Her collars and cuffs proclaim her merely a slave.”

“She’s no more a slave than you are, Madam,” ‘Soma said sharply. “She’s a Jedi first. That spells trouble. I want you to tell me her future so I’m not caught unaware by my sister’s plans, or my Aunt’s. I need to know if she’s dangerous.”

Dangerous. The word gripped her. Of course she was dangerous. She was a Jedi. Except not now. Now she was a Force-less, chained slave that had been dragged into a game that no-one had told her she was playing.

“Why do you think I’m dangerous?” Kithera said, rounding on the princess. Her voice was a hiss, the anxiety curling into irritation at being used as a pawn. “I was bought by the King. I’m not dangerous. I’m just a Jedi who wants to get home. I’m certainly not a plaything for others.” The words resonated in her head, echoing what she’d said to Subira that morning.

‘Soma scowled.

“I don’t have to explain to you why I want to do what I’m doing. You have to do what I say, it’s that simple..”

Kithera went to ask more, but 'Soma pointed to the seat.

“Sit, be read and then perhaps I’ll find a way to answer your questions another day.” She gave a grim smile. “Maybe when you are teaching me how to defend myself.”

Kithera wavered where she stood, unsure of what to do next. Something about the situation spoke of far greater consequences than just getting her future told by a charlatan as a party trick.

It was Madam who broke the silence.

“I cannot read her child, with that collar on. We must both touch the sacred life-force for me to properly see her future.”

“Oh! That’s easy!” 'Soma said with a sigh, “I know the code. J’meesha always uses the same one.” Before Kithera could react, the girl pushed her roughly into the seat. Kithera felt fingers sliding against skin as 'Soma scrabbled at the buttons.

There was a soft click.

The world exploded into music. Kithera sat stunned by the sheer weight of the notes. It wasn’t so much as if she was listening to an orchestra, but rather as if she was dangling by her ankles above the pit while every instrument played its symphony at its loudest and most out of tune.

There was no rhythm, no melody and certainly no conductor.

Kithera wailed, throwing her hands over her ears as if that could stop the cacophony. Something brushed her top lip and when she wiped her face, her fingers came away bloody. She stared at them in horror as the music swelled, all brass band and untuned violins.

The world went black.

*

Wet leaves smacked her in the face. Kithera blinked, suddenly aware that she seemed to be in someone else’s body. She was surrounded by forest, the wet boughs bending low as fir leaves crunched beneath her feet. She could hear people behind her, laboured breathing along with the distant sound of heavy boots and machinery. The other person’s thoughts flowed over and around her. The footsteps were the hunters and they were getting closer. There was a crunch of machinery and droids somewhere back in the darkness, and she was aware of how hard her heart was beating.

KIthera glanced down to see a sleeping Nini. She took a shuddering breath, realising that it was Niambi’s eyes she was seeing through. Niambi was suddenly thankful that the baby had eaten well. Kithera looked up to see her Master urging them on, her head swivelling back and forth as if she was trying to gauge how far away the hunters were. She wanted to call out, to tell her that she was here, but she could do nothing. It was as if she was trapped in Niambi’s head, a mere observer as events unfolded.

She realised that Namia had stripped her robes to dress as if she was Ish-te. With a pang Kithera realised that she could not see Namia’s lightsaber and she wondered if her Master had lost it.

Niambi’s thoughts trailed across a memory of watching an argument between Namia and Amma. Amma had wanted to give up. They were failing now, the hunters too close on their heels. She was scared they would all be killed. Namia had argued to keep going, saying that the Force would provide.

Doubt rippled through Niambi. She was tired. Nini was taking everything she had left. Her foot caught on something in the semi-darkness and she stumbled forward, crying out in pain as her ankle twisted beneath her. The jerk woke Nini.

The baby opened her mouth and wailed.

Behind them, in the dark, she could hear the hunters shout and the sound of droids and booted feet.

Kithera felt Niambi curl around the crying infant, sobbing.

The darkness enfolded her.

There were men and they were plotting. She could see nothing in the darkness, only hear the rustle of robes being pulled on and the distant grunt and thump of boots. There was a snickt of a drawn weapon.

“So you know the plan?” A voice in the darkness.

“Scare her. Try to make her realise that Ish-te are nothing but scum.”

“You won’t do that. The Queen loves them too much. This is about getting the rest of the nobles to be terrified of a potential threat.”

“Hah, did you hear that? H’dar’s a political strategist now.”

“Shut it Z’ki. No names, you idiot.” The first voice said, and Kithera could hear the tone of authority running through it.

“But you-”

“I said shut it.” The growl made the rest fall silent.

“What about the Jedi?”

“Neutralise it. Nothing but an apprentice anyway and no Force powers. Easy done.”

“She took down Jahlill’s men.”

“That mewling cat? If that’s all she’s capable of, then she won’t be any problems for us.”

“And if the Queen does get hurt?”

There was a long, pregnant pause. Kithera strained to see anything, but the darkness was too dense to penetrate.

“There is the sister. The king can always marry another.”

Darkness drenched her, pulling her away.

When she surfaced the Queen was covered in blood.

J’meesha, blinking rapidly, stared at Kithera, a thin mist of blood splattered across her face and clothes. The dark blue dress was ruined, the patina of blood discolouring it as the gold trim glinted scarlet in the sunlight.

Her face was pale.

Kithera stumbled towards her, ears ringing.

A sword flashed down, piercing a clean white tunic, from which a blood blossomed like a red flower on a field of snow.

Kithera ran faster, but it was too late. Death jingled through the Force and the Queen was covered in blood.

The blackness consumed her again, but this time it was nothing but flashing images and sensations.

The King, splattered with blood and begging for mercy.

Water filling her lungs as she sinks under; a crowd far above watching her impassively.

A rain of diamonds; sharp and glittery and filled with blood.

A lightsaber sinking into an unresisting chest.

Her hands bound as blood pours down her skin.

The Sami’ nobles screaming as Namia sliced her way through their unresisting bodies.

The glint of golden eyes.

The echoing laughter of the Mukdah.

A defiant Ish-te girl on her knees . A sword swinging. Blood pooling on the floor.

Nga-ba’s face, still and pale.

Kithera’s own arm stretched out in front of her, fingers broken and bloodied and then…

Then there were butterflies. Thousands and thousands of butterflies. Her Master was staring at her, eyes filled with tears, her face pale. Kithera couldn’t work out what she was saying, only that whatever it was her Master was desperate for her to hear it. Kithera blinked, feeling tears slide down her own face.

There was the hum of a lightsaber and she watched its pale blue blade arc through the air.

She woke up screaming.

*

Someone was holding their hand over her mouth. Kithera flailed, hearing a soft ‘oof’, and the hand left her mouth. She opened her eyes to see ‘Soma glaring at her. The princess took a step back, straightening and rubbing her arm. It took Kithera a moment to reorientate herself. She was back in the tent, in the palace. The music was gone. She slowly raised one hand towards her throat and then stopped, she could feel the weight of the collar back around her neck.

“What was that?” ‘Soma asked, mouth thin with disapproval. Kithera blinked, her words abandoning her.

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to blink away the flurry of images that threatened to overwhelm her. “I felt like I was dreaming.”

“Not dreaming,” Madam said, stepping forward. “Visions.”

Kithera frowned. “I don’t get visions. Some Jedi do, but not me. It’s one of those things that I’ve never been able to do.”

Madam gave her a comforting smile and then reached across to pat her hand. The moment they touched, Madam pulled away as if she had been burnt.

“What?” ‘'Soma said. “What did you see?”

Kithera wasn’t sure if ‘Soma was talking to Madam or to her.

“Death,” Madam whispered. She looked at Kithera, her face wreathed in sorrow. “I’m so sorry, padawan.”

There was a commotion outside and then the Queen’s voice, inquiring what was going on. Before anyone could answer, the tent door was pulled open and the Queen was standing in the entrance, her hands on her hips. For a second the image of her, splattered with blood and pale-faced, overlaid the real person in front of them. Kithera shuddered.

“What is going on?” J’meesha asked. Behind her there was a crowd of interested faces. Kithera watched as ‘Soma’s expression change into the same vapid, girlish smile she’d worn earlier.

“I was just getting my fortune told by Madam,” she said.

“I heard screaming,” J’meesha said, raising an eyebrow.

‘Soma managed to look embarrassed. “Ah, we had an incident. The Jedi’s nose started bleeding and you know how I can’t stomach blood.”

J’meesha’s eyes narrowed in a way Kithera guessed meant she could see through the rather obvious lie. The Queen let out a deep sigh.

“I imagine your tutors will be wondering where you’ve got to. I also think the Jedi needs a new tunic and,” J’meesha added, “by her pale face, something to eat and drink.”

‘'Soma grinned. “Of course sister.”

J’meesha nodded her head to Madam, who gave a low curtsey. “Come ‘'Soma, let’s leave Madam to her other customers. I’m sure there are plenty who would love their fortune told.”

‘Soma nodded and followed. Kithera, legs still shaking, made to follow them, but a strong, gnarled hand grasped her shoulder.

“Not all you saw may come to pass, little Jedi,” the old woman hissed. “However, only you can change that.” Her grip tightened further. “Only you can change it.”

Kithera nodded, and turned. The images still flickered behind her eyes. For a second, she felt like she’d been cast adrift on a swirling ocean. Each person in this court seemed to want something different. Everyone seemed to be relying on her for something, but would not tell her what. She desperately wanted to hide away and meditate, to clear her mind, but she knew she wouldn’t get the chance. Even now, she could hear the disapproving click of J’meesha’s fingers because she was not where she should be. She felt lost and alone.

And everytime she closed her eyes, there was the image of the blue bladed lightsaber against the sky, plunging towards an unprotected body. A body wearing Jedi robes.

 

Soma giving Kit more clues and in the tent seeing horrible images. The old woman is giving her advice." Only you can change it."
What will happen next?