Fic: cares we travail to content us (1/6)
Title: cares we travail to content us (1/6)
Author: angelqueen04
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 30,430 (this part 2,936)
Characters/Pairings: Morgana/Arthur, Gwen/Morgause, Merlin, Nimueh, and a host of supporting characters
Beta: uranus_ge (to whom I owe, many, many thanks)
Warnings: hints of femslash, implications of torture (nothing graphic)
Summary: It is a dark time for the galaxy. Emperor Uther has held much of known space in a violent chokehold for over two decades now. He ordered the annihilation of the Jedi Order, and demands that any person exhibiting Jedi abilities be executed for treason. His goddaughter, Princess Morgana of Alderaan, will do anything to see freedom restored to the galaxy, and serves as a spy for the Rebel Alliance. When she is captured by the Emperor’s agents, she is eventually brought into contact with Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the Excalibur. Their meeting alone will bring about changes unforeseen, as there are other, mysterious forces at work, and secrets locked away for years are about to come out. Of course, they’ll have to keep from killing each other as well.
Author's Notes: This story is a fusion of the Merlin and Star Wars universes, with the characters and a few other names/places/things all being fitted into a Star Wars setting. It was initially written for the Morgana/Arthur Big Bang, which, sadly, did not come about due to a myriad of factors. So, I'm posting it for you now. The title comes from Sir Thomas Heneage, in a poem he wrote for Elizabeth I.
The world of Coruscant was engulfed in madness. Events had been confusing for some days since Chancellor Uther’s wife, Lady Ygraine, had gone into labor, but now they had grown even worse. Conflicting reports were coming from all directions - one person said that her Ladyship had been safely delivered of a healthy daughter and that all was well, while others were crying that that Lady Ygraine and her child had either been kidnapped or murdered. On the war-torn planet such chaos was hardly new, but the people, exhausted and heart-sore after a long conflict with the Mercian Confederacy, were in no state to think rationally. Pandemonium erupted, which was only exacerbated by the sudden influx of troops called in from neighboring star systems.
Few could make sense of what was happening, and few understood why some troops took up guard positions around the chancellor’s residence, while most of the others marched stoically on the Jedi Temple. Few comprehended the reasons for the chancellor’s orders, but none questioned him. Most had ceased to question Uther, just hoping that he would lead them to peace once more.
So when information began to trickle out that Lady Ygraine and her child - a boy, not a girl as had been earlier reported - had both died due to the inaction of their Jedi healers, that the Jedi Order had rebelled and attempted to assassinate the king himself, the citizens of Coruscant accepted it as truth. There was no reason for Uther to lie, especially about the deaths of his own wife and child. Besides, the Jedi were strange folk, and they had not been able to end the war that had taken such an enormous toll on the Republic.
The small ship was located in a hangar in a remote area of Coruscant - a place so often engulfed in the smoke of industrial plants that most people disregarded it. The hangar itself was barely lit, which also kept it from being too conspicuous.
Thus, no one witnessed two people enter the hangar, both shrouded in cloaks, one a somber blue, and the other in a vibrant red who carried a small bundle.
“Are you certain about this, Gaius?” the red cloaked figure inquired.
“Yes, I am,” Gaius replied. “You have your part to play, Nimueh, and so do I.”
Nimueh tossed her head to throw her hood off, revealing sharp blue eyes, full red lips, and pale skin. “Your part,” she spat in a bitter tone, “your part is to cater to a spoiled wretch of a man, to help him hunt down your own brethren and slaughter them.”
Gaius eyed her tiredly. “Perhaps I can move him to mercy, convince him to leave those touched by the Force in peace. They are no threat to him now.”
“We never were,” she snapped. “The Jedi have protected the Chancellor and this Republic for generations, and now we’ve been betrayed by an upstart whose family only just took up the Chancellorship -”
“We have gone through this many times, Nimueh,” Gaius cut her off. “He blames the Jedi for Ygraine’s death.”
Nimueh flinched a little, but sneered. “He is more responsible than we were.” She looked down at the bundle in her arms, letting it fall away from where she had cradled it against her chest. It was a baby, sleeping peacefully. “We should never have interceded on their behalf, should never have used the Force to facilitate the boy’s conception,” she murmured. “By all rights, he should not even exist.”
“But he does, and if were not the will of the Force, he never would have survived,” Gaius stated bluntly, reaching out to brush a light hand over the sleeping infant’s forehead. “He is now our hope for the future. Uther will not live forever, and the heir will be innocent of his father’s actions.”
She snorted. “Aside from the actions that facilitated his very existence and his mother’s death,” she pointed out sullenly.
Gaius gave her a sharp glance. “Such bitterness will carry you down a dark path, Nimueh. Take care you do not fall into such a trap,” he warned her. “If you cannot bring yourself to hide the boy for his sake or the future’s, then do it for Ygraine’s. She loved her son, however briefly she knew him. Ensure his safety for her sake, if for no one else’s.”
Nimueh gazed down hard at the baby. That this child’s entrance into the world and the passing of his mother would spark such bloody retribution upon her kind was not something she or any of the Jedi had foreseen. She sighed inwardly. It was far too easy to blame the boy, and ridding the galaxy of him would not make the state of things any better. Uther already thought his son dead along with Ygraine, and he still sought to hunt the Jedi down - from the venerable masters to the youngest initiates. Actually getting rid of the boy would not save any of her order.
“Very well,” she said grudgingly. “I will protect him and hide him away. He will be safe, until the time is right.”
Gaius nodded, evidently relieved. “Go to Corellia,” he advised. “My sister resides there, and she is expecting a child. Our village is a remote one, and no one will think it amiss if she says the child belongs to a cousin dead from the war.”
Nimueh nodded, but raised an eyebrow. “You know where your family resides, Gaius?” she asked sardonically. “The Council would be most concerned, if there still was a Council and a Code to uphold.” She began to move toward the ship’s ramp. “I will stop at Alderaan on the way,” she informed him, changing the subject before Gaius could get in a word edgewise. “Queen Glynis and Senator Organa are friends of the Jedi; they will help me. And they have a child of their own due any day now.” She started to walk up the ramp, but paused, and then turned back to Gaius. “You do know that if Uther finds out what you have done, it will not matter that you have served him and remained loyal all these years? He will kill you for stealing his son.”
Gaius inhaled deeply and stared back at her stoically. “I will do what I must,” he said only. “As will we all.” He bowed lowly to her. “May the Force be with you, Nimueh.”
She looked at him briefly, and then nodded in return. “And with you.”
Three weeks later
The birthing chamber in the palace of Tintagel was cool and dark. Only a few were present to see the ruling queen of Alderaan give birth to her firstborn, including her husband, a physician, and Nimueh herself. The people outside all waited for news with baited breath.
As the queen bore down yet again, Nimueh pressed a damp cloth to the other woman’s sweaty forehead and pushed her mussed blonde hair back from her face. The labor had been proceeding for some time, and Nimueh could sense that the time was fast approaching for the child to appear. However, she was also concerned. The child - a girl from what she could determine - had a bright, shining presence in the Force. Only recently, the girl would have been considered a prime candidate for Jedi training.
Now? It didn’t bear mentioning how complicated things were becoming.
Glynis let out a loud groan, drawing Nimueh back to the matter at hand. She leaned forward attentively, squeezing the lady’s hand.
Finally, the physician cried out, “A girl!” and lifted the child up to lay her on her mother’s stomach. Nimueh stared at the squalling thing while her parents cooed over her for several moments. She was red and still covered in amniotic fluid, but already the child was broadcasting her presence for anyone with any Force sensitivity to hear her. Strong, Nimueh thought, she’ll be a strong one some day.
Finally the physician whisked the newborn princess away to the area across the room, where several machines had already been set up to receive the child. Nimueh knew the physician would determine the baby’s weight, height, general health, but that he would also check the baby’s midichlorian count. It was a common practice, and she doubted it would be put into disuse so quickly after Uther had outlawed the Jedi Order.
Meanwhile, Gorlois was whispering tender words into Glynis’ ear, who smiled tiredly at her husband and consort. Then she turned to Nimueh and said, “Thank you, Nimueh, for being here.”
Nimueh managed a faint smile and nodded. “You are welcome, Your Majesty.”
The physician returned to them at that time, cutting off any further conversation. Immediately, Nimueh took notice of the man’s expression. Just moments before, the man had been jubilant. Now he was pale and worried.
Gorlois noticed the change in the other man’s demeanor. “Eaton, what is it?” he demanded, his green eyes sharp and serious beneath his thick dark hair.
“Is something wrong with her?” Glynis asked fearfully.
Eaton blinked at the sudden inquisition, but hurriedly sought to reassure the new parents. “No, no, my lord, my lady,” he said hastily as he handed the baby to her mother, who quickly cuddled the child to her breast. “The princess is perfectly healthy.” He rattled off her height and weight - both respectable numbers - and then he paused, hesitating. “I also performed a midichlorian count, as has always been the standard procedure…”
Nimueh nodded to herself; she’d been right. She glanced over at Glynis and Gorlois, both of whom had gone extremely pale. “How high is it?” Gorlois asked, tense.
“Six thousand,” Eaton said.
Nimueh inhaled sharply. The midichlorian counts of human newborns that were sought by the Jedi usually ranged between two and four thousand, the higher counts being extremely rare. The midichlorians increased in number over time, and by the end of their lives, human Jedi had somewhere between ten and thirteen thousand in their bodies. The midichlorian counts for non-humans behaved a little differently, and their numbers varied from race to race, but that hardly mattered at the moment. That the newborn daughter of Alderaan’s rulers had more midichlorians in her body than any other human infant that Nimueh could recall from the Temple’s records was nothing short of astounding.
“U-Uther… he won’t… he wouldn’t,” Glynis whispered. “Would he?” She looked at her husband beseechingly.
Gorlois looked alarmingly grey. “If it gets out that the future queen of Alderaan has the liking of a Jedi, and the potential abilities…” The prince shuddered. “I saw what happened at the Jedi Temple only from the outside, but I heard the screams.” He stared at his daughter bleakly. “Those were not the cries of adults that I heard.”
Glynis sobbed and clutched her daughter even more tightly, causing the little girl to whine and squirm against her mother’s frantic grip.
“We have to get her out of here,” Gorlois said in a strangled tone. He then looked up at Nimueh, who had watched the entire scene in silence. “Master Jedi, you have so many burdens on you already, but…”
Glynis hiccupped against her tears, but turned to look at her.
Nimueh took a deep breath. Gorlois was right. She did have burdens, yes, the chief of them being just a few doors down the corridor, currently being attended and guarded by a highly advanced nanny droid. Young Arthur Pendragon was a surprisingly good baby, not overly given to fussing, something she was extremely grateful for. Still, she would not feel safe until the boy was on Corellia, where Gaius’ sister resided in anonymity. Then she had to find her own hiding place, once she had the boy settled in with Gaius’ family. Still, the pleading expressions on the queen and her consort’s faces were too for her much to ignore.
“What is it you want of me?” she asked quietly.
“At seven-thirty-three in the evening, Tintagel standard time, Princess Morgause Organa was born to Queen Glynis and Prince Gorlois. Unfortunately, complications arose during the delivery, ending with the baby’s death at seven-fifty-nine. Their Majesties are unavailable for comment at the present time, but the newly-appointed Emperor Uther has already issued his sincere condolences to our sovereigns.”
On Coruscant, an emperor sat alone in his great palace, grey-eyed and cold-faced. His wife and son were dead; he had only revenge and rule left to him now.
On Alderaan, a queen and her consort wept alone in their private chambers, acutely aware of the empty nursery just down the corridor.
On Corellia, in a city far from the planet’s capital, a cloaked figure arrived in a nondescript neighborhood and approached the door of one the houses, carrying two small bundles close to her. She knocked on the door with her booted foot, and it was soon opened cautiously by a young, plain and sad-looking woman, her belly rounded with child. The young woman did not seem at all surprised to see her visitor, but instead ushered her inside and shut the door. The door opened again late that night, when the other villagers had gone to bed, and a lone figure carrying a single bundle swept off into the night.
Like the rest of the Republic-turned-Empire, Alderaan had had precious little to celebrate in recent years. The heavy cost of the war with the Mercians, the death of Queen Glynis’ first child, the ever-increasing military presence throughout the galaxy, the Emperor’s continued surly behavior, and the constant persecution of any and all Force users - especially any remaining Jedi - all made for a dismal time for everyone.
Hope, however, had a way of rekindling itself in the darkest of times. When Queen Glynis announced that she was again expecting a child some four years after her terrible loss, the people of Alderaan were eager to see that everything went as it should. Their happiness only increased when she gave birth to a daughter with no complications. Morgana Organa was instantly adored by everyone around her from the very moment of her arrival. Even the Emperor on far off Coruscant came out of his depressive state enough to offer his congratulations to the new parents and to even stand as the little girl’s godfather.
Perhaps things were not wholly right in the galaxy, but there still were times of happiness in the midst of sadness.
On Corellia, in a city that was much like any other, life was simple. People worked their trades, minded their property, or performed whatever other duties their livelihoods demanded of them. Children played, laughing loudly and occasionally earning a scolding from their families or the exasperated schoolmaster.
In particular, there was a boy, a handsome child with blonde hair and blue eyes, who seemed to have become a natural leader among the younger children and even some of the ones who were older than him. He was always the first to organize teams to play some game in the fields, usually trailed by a younger, dark-haired boy with similarly colored eyes, who could hardly be convinced to let go of the older child’s tunic. Most boys would shrug him off, but the older boy, Arthur, demonstrated remarkable patience with his shadow, Merlin. However, this did not stop the two boys from bickering as children are wont to do.
“No, Arf’r!”
“Yes, Merlin!”
“No!”
“Baby!”
“Meanie!”
On the Outer Rim planet of Tatooine, life was a continuous struggle for survival. Much of the planet was controlled by a gangster race, the Hutts, who loved nothing more than to throw lavish, decadent parties or gamble on pod races, but who were also shrewd business-beings and could spot a snitch from across a packed room. The planet also had many lone individuals and families, all determined to eek out a life for themselves in the harsh landscape. That didn’t even take into account Tatooine’s hostile natives, called the Tusken Raiders by the settlers.
These people were a tough bunch, but as prone to the usual character failings as any other. Gossip was a staple for anyone and everyone, and one of their favorite subjects was crazy old Nimueh and her daughter.
No one knew where Nimueh and her child came from, exactly. Nimueh had arrived on Tatooine some four years ago, her infant daughter, Morgause, in tow. She was close-lipped about her past, saying only that her husband had died in the war and their home had been destroyed. She’d had sufficient funds to purchase supplies and then had set out alone, toward the Junland Wastes.
Men and women alike had clucked their tongues and shaken their heads. The Junland Wastes were probably the most dangerous areas on Tatooine, as they were in extremely close proximity to the Tuskens’ territories and hunting grounds. Many people expected to hear of the Tuskens murdering the woman and her little girl within the next few weeks.
They did not. Indeed, Nimueh and her daughter appeared in Anchorhead about once every two months or so to sell their wares - scraps foraged from caves or the barren Wastes - and purchase supplies. Little Morgause grew from a swaddled infant into a blonde-haired waif, her face constantly dirty from the sand that surrounded her home, and had watchful, wary blue eyes. Mothers whispered behind their hands that the girl was like a woman grown in a child’s body. It wasn’t natural, they whispered, though never in Morgause’s hearing, or in the little girl’s mother’s.
It was a strange, hard life, but it was all many of the people of Tatooine knew.
Part Two
Author: angelqueen04
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 30,430 (this part 2,936)
Characters/Pairings: Morgana/Arthur, Gwen/Morgause, Merlin, Nimueh, and a host of supporting characters
Beta: uranus_ge (to whom I owe, many, many thanks)
Warnings: hints of femslash, implications of torture (nothing graphic)
Summary: It is a dark time for the galaxy. Emperor Uther has held much of known space in a violent chokehold for over two decades now. He ordered the annihilation of the Jedi Order, and demands that any person exhibiting Jedi abilities be executed for treason. His goddaughter, Princess Morgana of Alderaan, will do anything to see freedom restored to the galaxy, and serves as a spy for the Rebel Alliance. When she is captured by the Emperor’s agents, she is eventually brought into contact with Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the Excalibur. Their meeting alone will bring about changes unforeseen, as there are other, mysterious forces at work, and secrets locked away for years are about to come out. Of course, they’ll have to keep from killing each other as well.
Author's Notes: This story is a fusion of the Merlin and Star Wars universes, with the characters and a few other names/places/things all being fitted into a Star Wars setting. It was initially written for the Morgana/Arthur Big Bang, which, sadly, did not come about due to a myriad of factors. So, I'm posting it for you now. The title comes from Sir Thomas Heneage, in a poem he wrote for Elizabeth I.
The world of Coruscant was engulfed in madness. Events had been confusing for some days since Chancellor Uther’s wife, Lady Ygraine, had gone into labor, but now they had grown even worse. Conflicting reports were coming from all directions - one person said that her Ladyship had been safely delivered of a healthy daughter and that all was well, while others were crying that that Lady Ygraine and her child had either been kidnapped or murdered. On the war-torn planet such chaos was hardly new, but the people, exhausted and heart-sore after a long conflict with the Mercian Confederacy, were in no state to think rationally. Pandemonium erupted, which was only exacerbated by the sudden influx of troops called in from neighboring star systems.
Few could make sense of what was happening, and few understood why some troops took up guard positions around the chancellor’s residence, while most of the others marched stoically on the Jedi Temple. Few comprehended the reasons for the chancellor’s orders, but none questioned him. Most had ceased to question Uther, just hoping that he would lead them to peace once more.
So when information began to trickle out that Lady Ygraine and her child - a boy, not a girl as had been earlier reported - had both died due to the inaction of their Jedi healers, that the Jedi Order had rebelled and attempted to assassinate the king himself, the citizens of Coruscant accepted it as truth. There was no reason for Uther to lie, especially about the deaths of his own wife and child. Besides, the Jedi were strange folk, and they had not been able to end the war that had taken such an enormous toll on the Republic.
The small ship was located in a hangar in a remote area of Coruscant - a place so often engulfed in the smoke of industrial plants that most people disregarded it. The hangar itself was barely lit, which also kept it from being too conspicuous.
Thus, no one witnessed two people enter the hangar, both shrouded in cloaks, one a somber blue, and the other in a vibrant red who carried a small bundle.
“Are you certain about this, Gaius?” the red cloaked figure inquired.
“Yes, I am,” Gaius replied. “You have your part to play, Nimueh, and so do I.”
Nimueh tossed her head to throw her hood off, revealing sharp blue eyes, full red lips, and pale skin. “Your part,” she spat in a bitter tone, “your part is to cater to a spoiled wretch of a man, to help him hunt down your own brethren and slaughter them.”
Gaius eyed her tiredly. “Perhaps I can move him to mercy, convince him to leave those touched by the Force in peace. They are no threat to him now.”
“We never were,” she snapped. “The Jedi have protected the Chancellor and this Republic for generations, and now we’ve been betrayed by an upstart whose family only just took up the Chancellorship -”
“We have gone through this many times, Nimueh,” Gaius cut her off. “He blames the Jedi for Ygraine’s death.”
Nimueh flinched a little, but sneered. “He is more responsible than we were.” She looked down at the bundle in her arms, letting it fall away from where she had cradled it against her chest. It was a baby, sleeping peacefully. “We should never have interceded on their behalf, should never have used the Force to facilitate the boy’s conception,” she murmured. “By all rights, he should not even exist.”
“But he does, and if were not the will of the Force, he never would have survived,” Gaius stated bluntly, reaching out to brush a light hand over the sleeping infant’s forehead. “He is now our hope for the future. Uther will not live forever, and the heir will be innocent of his father’s actions.”
She snorted. “Aside from the actions that facilitated his very existence and his mother’s death,” she pointed out sullenly.
Gaius gave her a sharp glance. “Such bitterness will carry you down a dark path, Nimueh. Take care you do not fall into such a trap,” he warned her. “If you cannot bring yourself to hide the boy for his sake or the future’s, then do it for Ygraine’s. She loved her son, however briefly she knew him. Ensure his safety for her sake, if for no one else’s.”
Nimueh gazed down hard at the baby. That this child’s entrance into the world and the passing of his mother would spark such bloody retribution upon her kind was not something she or any of the Jedi had foreseen. She sighed inwardly. It was far too easy to blame the boy, and ridding the galaxy of him would not make the state of things any better. Uther already thought his son dead along with Ygraine, and he still sought to hunt the Jedi down - from the venerable masters to the youngest initiates. Actually getting rid of the boy would not save any of her order.
“Very well,” she said grudgingly. “I will protect him and hide him away. He will be safe, until the time is right.”
Gaius nodded, evidently relieved. “Go to Corellia,” he advised. “My sister resides there, and she is expecting a child. Our village is a remote one, and no one will think it amiss if she says the child belongs to a cousin dead from the war.”
Nimueh nodded, but raised an eyebrow. “You know where your family resides, Gaius?” she asked sardonically. “The Council would be most concerned, if there still was a Council and a Code to uphold.” She began to move toward the ship’s ramp. “I will stop at Alderaan on the way,” she informed him, changing the subject before Gaius could get in a word edgewise. “Queen Glynis and Senator Organa are friends of the Jedi; they will help me. And they have a child of their own due any day now.” She started to walk up the ramp, but paused, and then turned back to Gaius. “You do know that if Uther finds out what you have done, it will not matter that you have served him and remained loyal all these years? He will kill you for stealing his son.”
Gaius inhaled deeply and stared back at her stoically. “I will do what I must,” he said only. “As will we all.” He bowed lowly to her. “May the Force be with you, Nimueh.”
She looked at him briefly, and then nodded in return. “And with you.”
Three weeks later
The birthing chamber in the palace of Tintagel was cool and dark. Only a few were present to see the ruling queen of Alderaan give birth to her firstborn, including her husband, a physician, and Nimueh herself. The people outside all waited for news with baited breath.
As the queen bore down yet again, Nimueh pressed a damp cloth to the other woman’s sweaty forehead and pushed her mussed blonde hair back from her face. The labor had been proceeding for some time, and Nimueh could sense that the time was fast approaching for the child to appear. However, she was also concerned. The child - a girl from what she could determine - had a bright, shining presence in the Force. Only recently, the girl would have been considered a prime candidate for Jedi training.
Now? It didn’t bear mentioning how complicated things were becoming.
Glynis let out a loud groan, drawing Nimueh back to the matter at hand. She leaned forward attentively, squeezing the lady’s hand.
Finally, the physician cried out, “A girl!” and lifted the child up to lay her on her mother’s stomach. Nimueh stared at the squalling thing while her parents cooed over her for several moments. She was red and still covered in amniotic fluid, but already the child was broadcasting her presence for anyone with any Force sensitivity to hear her. Strong, Nimueh thought, she’ll be a strong one some day.
Finally the physician whisked the newborn princess away to the area across the room, where several machines had already been set up to receive the child. Nimueh knew the physician would determine the baby’s weight, height, general health, but that he would also check the baby’s midichlorian count. It was a common practice, and she doubted it would be put into disuse so quickly after Uther had outlawed the Jedi Order.
Meanwhile, Gorlois was whispering tender words into Glynis’ ear, who smiled tiredly at her husband and consort. Then she turned to Nimueh and said, “Thank you, Nimueh, for being here.”
Nimueh managed a faint smile and nodded. “You are welcome, Your Majesty.”
The physician returned to them at that time, cutting off any further conversation. Immediately, Nimueh took notice of the man’s expression. Just moments before, the man had been jubilant. Now he was pale and worried.
Gorlois noticed the change in the other man’s demeanor. “Eaton, what is it?” he demanded, his green eyes sharp and serious beneath his thick dark hair.
“Is something wrong with her?” Glynis asked fearfully.
Eaton blinked at the sudden inquisition, but hurriedly sought to reassure the new parents. “No, no, my lord, my lady,” he said hastily as he handed the baby to her mother, who quickly cuddled the child to her breast. “The princess is perfectly healthy.” He rattled off her height and weight - both respectable numbers - and then he paused, hesitating. “I also performed a midichlorian count, as has always been the standard procedure…”
Nimueh nodded to herself; she’d been right. She glanced over at Glynis and Gorlois, both of whom had gone extremely pale. “How high is it?” Gorlois asked, tense.
“Six thousand,” Eaton said.
Nimueh inhaled sharply. The midichlorian counts of human newborns that were sought by the Jedi usually ranged between two and four thousand, the higher counts being extremely rare. The midichlorians increased in number over time, and by the end of their lives, human Jedi had somewhere between ten and thirteen thousand in their bodies. The midichlorian counts for non-humans behaved a little differently, and their numbers varied from race to race, but that hardly mattered at the moment. That the newborn daughter of Alderaan’s rulers had more midichlorians in her body than any other human infant that Nimueh could recall from the Temple’s records was nothing short of astounding.
“U-Uther… he won’t… he wouldn’t,” Glynis whispered. “Would he?” She looked at her husband beseechingly.
Gorlois looked alarmingly grey. “If it gets out that the future queen of Alderaan has the liking of a Jedi, and the potential abilities…” The prince shuddered. “I saw what happened at the Jedi Temple only from the outside, but I heard the screams.” He stared at his daughter bleakly. “Those were not the cries of adults that I heard.”
Glynis sobbed and clutched her daughter even more tightly, causing the little girl to whine and squirm against her mother’s frantic grip.
“We have to get her out of here,” Gorlois said in a strangled tone. He then looked up at Nimueh, who had watched the entire scene in silence. “Master Jedi, you have so many burdens on you already, but…”
Glynis hiccupped against her tears, but turned to look at her.
Nimueh took a deep breath. Gorlois was right. She did have burdens, yes, the chief of them being just a few doors down the corridor, currently being attended and guarded by a highly advanced nanny droid. Young Arthur Pendragon was a surprisingly good baby, not overly given to fussing, something she was extremely grateful for. Still, she would not feel safe until the boy was on Corellia, where Gaius’ sister resided in anonymity. Then she had to find her own hiding place, once she had the boy settled in with Gaius’ family. Still, the pleading expressions on the queen and her consort’s faces were too for her much to ignore.
“What is it you want of me?” she asked quietly.
“At seven-thirty-three in the evening, Tintagel standard time, Princess Morgause Organa was born to Queen Glynis and Prince Gorlois. Unfortunately, complications arose during the delivery, ending with the baby’s death at seven-fifty-nine. Their Majesties are unavailable for comment at the present time, but the newly-appointed Emperor Uther has already issued his sincere condolences to our sovereigns.”
On Coruscant, an emperor sat alone in his great palace, grey-eyed and cold-faced. His wife and son were dead; he had only revenge and rule left to him now.
On Alderaan, a queen and her consort wept alone in their private chambers, acutely aware of the empty nursery just down the corridor.
On Corellia, in a city far from the planet’s capital, a cloaked figure arrived in a nondescript neighborhood and approached the door of one the houses, carrying two small bundles close to her. She knocked on the door with her booted foot, and it was soon opened cautiously by a young, plain and sad-looking woman, her belly rounded with child. The young woman did not seem at all surprised to see her visitor, but instead ushered her inside and shut the door. The door opened again late that night, when the other villagers had gone to bed, and a lone figure carrying a single bundle swept off into the night.
Like the rest of the Republic-turned-Empire, Alderaan had had precious little to celebrate in recent years. The heavy cost of the war with the Mercians, the death of Queen Glynis’ first child, the ever-increasing military presence throughout the galaxy, the Emperor’s continued surly behavior, and the constant persecution of any and all Force users - especially any remaining Jedi - all made for a dismal time for everyone.
Hope, however, had a way of rekindling itself in the darkest of times. When Queen Glynis announced that she was again expecting a child some four years after her terrible loss, the people of Alderaan were eager to see that everything went as it should. Their happiness only increased when she gave birth to a daughter with no complications. Morgana Organa was instantly adored by everyone around her from the very moment of her arrival. Even the Emperor on far off Coruscant came out of his depressive state enough to offer his congratulations to the new parents and to even stand as the little girl’s godfather.
Perhaps things were not wholly right in the galaxy, but there still were times of happiness in the midst of sadness.
On Corellia, in a city that was much like any other, life was simple. People worked their trades, minded their property, or performed whatever other duties their livelihoods demanded of them. Children played, laughing loudly and occasionally earning a scolding from their families or the exasperated schoolmaster.
In particular, there was a boy, a handsome child with blonde hair and blue eyes, who seemed to have become a natural leader among the younger children and even some of the ones who were older than him. He was always the first to organize teams to play some game in the fields, usually trailed by a younger, dark-haired boy with similarly colored eyes, who could hardly be convinced to let go of the older child’s tunic. Most boys would shrug him off, but the older boy, Arthur, demonstrated remarkable patience with his shadow, Merlin. However, this did not stop the two boys from bickering as children are wont to do.
“No, Arf’r!”
“Yes, Merlin!”
“No!”
“Baby!”
“Meanie!”
On the Outer Rim planet of Tatooine, life was a continuous struggle for survival. Much of the planet was controlled by a gangster race, the Hutts, who loved nothing more than to throw lavish, decadent parties or gamble on pod races, but who were also shrewd business-beings and could spot a snitch from across a packed room. The planet also had many lone individuals and families, all determined to eek out a life for themselves in the harsh landscape. That didn’t even take into account Tatooine’s hostile natives, called the Tusken Raiders by the settlers.
These people were a tough bunch, but as prone to the usual character failings as any other. Gossip was a staple for anyone and everyone, and one of their favorite subjects was crazy old Nimueh and her daughter.
No one knew where Nimueh and her child came from, exactly. Nimueh had arrived on Tatooine some four years ago, her infant daughter, Morgause, in tow. She was close-lipped about her past, saying only that her husband had died in the war and their home had been destroyed. She’d had sufficient funds to purchase supplies and then had set out alone, toward the Junland Wastes.
Men and women alike had clucked their tongues and shaken their heads. The Junland Wastes were probably the most dangerous areas on Tatooine, as they were in extremely close proximity to the Tuskens’ territories and hunting grounds. Many people expected to hear of the Tuskens murdering the woman and her little girl within the next few weeks.
They did not. Indeed, Nimueh and her daughter appeared in Anchorhead about once every two months or so to sell their wares - scraps foraged from caves or the barren Wastes - and purchase supplies. Little Morgause grew from a swaddled infant into a blonde-haired waif, her face constantly dirty from the sand that surrounded her home, and had watchful, wary blue eyes. Mothers whispered behind their hands that the girl was like a woman grown in a child’s body. It wasn’t natural, they whispered, though never in Morgause’s hearing, or in the little girl’s mother’s.
It was a strange, hard life, but it was all many of the people of Tatooine knew.
Part Two