Obi-Wan couldn’t sleep. One would think that after years of traveling from one end of the galaxy to the other, he would have grown accustomed to new places. But the unfamiliarity of the plush bedding and spacious, silent room bothered him. Qui-Gon gave him a scolding as he had expected, and then he had retired— and he only remained in bed for an hour before rising again and leaving his room to wander. Perhaps he would be able to soothe his nerves in the large gardens he had spied from his window.
The cool air was refreshing to say the least, and the breeze did much to clear the fever in his blood. He wandered for a few minutes among the shrubbery and trees, pausing to admire a patch of irises that surrounded a still pool of water. It was then that he heard it— a strange, supernatural sound, a song wafting toward him on the wind. For a moment, he was convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. But as the breeze stilled and the whispering leaves quieted, the song became clearer. There was someone singing.
He followed the sound through the gardens and shortly discovered a secret garden walled off from the rest of the grounds and hidden from view by thick vines. He stepped through an open doorway to a courtyard with a fountain that glittered in the moonlight, and there, shining under its glow, was none other than the striking young Duchess.
He was tempted to turn back, but something about her voice captivated him and, against his better judgement, he moved closer.
She heard him moving among the shrubs and through the grass. His foot falls were not ones she knew. Satine stopped her singing and turned to look at him from where she stood in the field of grass. It was part of the palace grounds and there were walls far off in the distance, covered by plants and guarded on the outside by the local police force. She was not opposed to defending herself, but nor was she willing to strike at the heart of the Death Watch.
He stood there, his clothing creating a bulky shadow around him where he stood.
She turned to face him, still clothed in her form-hugging gown of silk and lace. Her hair had been let free of it’s headdress and hung about her back and shoulders like a curtain. Her blue eyes were less fierce here in the quiet of the moonlight than they had been in the halls of marble, as if nature itself had reached out to rub a winter chill from her cheeks.
“I came here to find peace. What is it you want of me, Jedi?”
He moved toward her with careful nonchalance, ducking casually under the low, shadowed boughs of a tree. “You assume I was brought here by you,” he responded, dodging the question. Typically selfish of her to assume he wanted something from her. He couldn’t deny that she looked beautiful under the silvery moonlight, but the thought only flitted through his mind before he dismissed it.
He plucked a small white flower from a full bush to the side, bringing it up in front of his gaze and twirling it between his fingers. “I, too, came here to find peace. You never specified whether my Master and I were to be confined to our quarters.” He glanced up at her, his gaze challenging her to imprison him here.
