"Until caught the killer is, our judgment she must respect," Yoda says. Well, he's not the one who has to tell her that, is he?
"Anakin, go to the senate," Windu tells him. "And ask Chancellor Palpatine to speak with her about this matter. As a Queen, she understands hierarchy, and will take it better if it comes from him."
Anakin and Obi-Wan bow to the Council, and leave the Jedi Temple. Once they're outside, the Master turns to the Padawan.
"How do you think she'll take it?" he asks.
Anakin sighs, resigned. "I think she won't make it easy for us."
Obi-Wan nods. "I'm not sure she's ever made it easy so far."
"No, definitely not."
And Anakin is not sure he'd have it any other way.
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
Thalia storms into the place Padmé and her are staying in, Myriil following after her, having come when he heard the news. "I can't believe it," she lets out with venom. "This is the equivalent of benching me. 'Executive orders from the Chancellor'. I dislike that man. I'm being benched, because I caught the bounty hunter with the Jedi! I should be thanked."
She is far from pleased at the thought of going back. She loves her home, she misses it – but she liked the hint of anonymity that came with being in Coruscant. Back on Pelides, everyone knows her. Watches her. Depends on her.
She's not ready to bear that kind of responsibility again.
Myriil can't help but smile softly at his niece as she stomps heavily on the floor, face all scrunched up in a frown, frustration almost radiating off of her. "Thank you for managing to stay alive," he ironises softly. "I assume that wasn't an easy feat, was it?"
He looks at Cyran for confirmation, and her guard has the guts to slightly shake his head. Traitor. "In her defense, her Majesty did catch the person who was trying to kill her and the Senator," he adds before she threatens to fire him.
Thalia nods enthusiastically, before looking back at her uncle. She can see the deep worry on his face, and it makes her feel guilty. "I was being careful, you know?"
His face softens, and he gestures at her freckled face. "Yes, hence the bruise on your eye. Must be a Coruscant fashion I had yet to notice."
She raises a hand to her hazel eye, stopping and carefully touches the painful skin around it. She clenches her jaw. She'll have Anakin's hand for this, she swears. "Yes, well, I'm not dead yet."
Cyran scoffs lightly, and she glares daggers at him. Myriil sighs. "I think more protection would help me sleep."
She hums half-heartedly. "Well it's not going to help me sleep."
