My Unfortunate Fate

chapter 97

These past few days have been eventful. Although we haven't had much time to look into how the galaxy is coping without a looming conflict, we've gleaned enough from public announcements, broadcasts, and word-of-mouth to know what is going on.

Immediately after the Chancellor's death, Separatist systems began petitioning for negotiations. The Republic started negotiating with their local governments and the few Separatist leaders that were left. Ultimately, all systems that were under Separatist control would be ceded to them, on one condition: if their regents did not comply with the newly signed Naboo Convention—the planet was chosen for its neutrality and because the invasion of Naboo eventually led to the war—the Republic would seize these systems. The Separatists, now a disorganized group of bureaucratic leaders, complied. After all, they had very few options, and no one wanted another war.

For a short time, the Jedi Council seized control of the Senate. Few Senators, other than Palpatine's close allies, objected to this. After two days of debates, preliminary elections, and final votes within the Senate, Bail Organa was elected Supreme Chancellor for the next four years (Coruscant years, of 365 standard days each).

A few hours after Master Windu's announcement, fireworks went off. Crowds gathered in the streets of Coruscant to celebrate rather than protest. The atmosphere was filled with success, pride, and relief.

Meanwhile, I called Shri'a to let her know we were moving to Alderaan. In retrospect, I should have secured lodging earlier, but with the war and the stress and avoiding death, it's been hard. Luckily, my mother's parents—my grandparents, I suppose—gave her ownership of their countryside house when they moved off-world at the start of the war.

They'd been mobile for years, often bouncing through the Outer Rim and beyond to escape partisan territory. Shri'a claims to have received her last letter from them six standard months ago. In said letter, they explained that they'd taken refuge on a planet called Koboh—a system the Separatists hadn't reached yet. They hired a former Jedi to pilot their ship to Tanalorr, a "lost world," as Shri'a called it. Far away from the Clone Wars.

She assumed they'd either died trying to reach it, or they'd found Tanalorr and never looked back. When I asked why they'd leave her, Shri'a explained that they essentially shunned her for giving me away.

"Our family was never the same after the Jedi came," she explained. "My parents loved you and they couldn't watch you go, but I knew what needed to be done." She paused and sighed. "I don't know if I made the right decision, but I think they would have found you anyway. At least I got to protect you from the worst of it by hiding your true potential."

"Still, you must have known they'd react like that," I said.

"Yes, y/n, you have to understand that I was young. When I got pregnant, I had just turned eighteen. I had my entire life planned out, and it's been disrupted, but I could not have lived my life without giving you up."

I could not fathom giving up my child, but my situation is very different from Shri'a's. I wanted this, and I expected this to happen. She had no say, no possible way out, and no other option. She deserved to live her life, as I have chosen to live mine, away from the Order.

All in all, that's why she never stepped foot in the house again. Her childhood interloped with her pregnancy and ruptured family—it all goes back to the house. She said, "I want you to have it."

Thus, I had not only a house but a home.

Anakin and I saved enough of our government-mandated living-wage (but not really) incomes to sustain ourselves for a few years. Add to that the Republic war bonds we reclaimed just days ago, and we might not have to work for a decade. Until then, we can focus on our child—or children, if one proves to be manageable.