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“You can teach me,” Leia says, ten years old and blazing with blinding confidence in the Force even through the pixelated holo call. “Mother and Father both say so.”
Obi-Wan looks at her, and remembers her birth parents: Padme standing in front of Boss Nass, declaring herself Queen Amidala and standing strong and tall in defiance of rejection; Anakin brilliant in the cockpit of every vehicle he touched, regardless of what he’d known before sitting in the pilot’s seat. Neither of them had ever been deterred from something they wanted, and Leia—raised by a queen and a senator, both formidable figures themselves—is unlikely to be any different.
That doesn’t change that it’s deeply frustrating to be receiving this call, not to mention potentially dangerous for them both. Obi-Wan sighs and strokes his beard to calm himself before he says, “How did you get this comm?”
“I stole it from Father,” Leia says, and there’s no shame in her face. “Because he’d been telling me war stories and then I heard Mother talking about how she was concerned that my—” her face screws up in concentration as she mimics her mother’s words and voice “—‘abilities may manifest dramatically soon’, and Father mentioned that if it came to that, he’d call you.”
Obi-Wan winces. He’d told Bail that if they really needed him, of course he’d come. He doesn’t want to leave Luke unprotected, but the last decade had involved entirely too much sun and sand and loneliness for his liking. He might trek to the Lars’ home every month for a meal and to check on Luke (who called him Uncle Ben, which breaks his heart every time he thinks about it), but other than that… There’s just the dunes, and the bantha, and his deepening meditations on the Force.
Leia doesn’t notice or care about his thoughts, because she’s a child on a mission. He doesn’t blame her. She leans closer to the projected. “So, will you teach me?”
“I don’t have any way to Alderaan,” Obi-Wan says, which he knows means absolutely nothing to a princess beyond an admittance of capitulation. “I also have obligations here.”
“Can you teach me from a distance?”
There is absolutely nothing, in all the teachings of the Jedi, about teaching a student who isn’t in physical proximity to you. Obi-Wan has had ample time to study the records; he’d taken data-cores from the Temple and kept them with him, all these years. So Obi-Wan considers for a minute—which is likely much too long for Leia’s temper, but it’s good for her to be patient—and then says, “No, I don’t believe I could.”
She scowls at him.
Obi-Wan maintains his gentle smile. “If your parents both agree, and are willing to send a ship to me—then I will discuss the matter with them present.”
Leia looks at him, purses her lips, and nods. “Very well,” she says, drawing herself up to her full tiny height. “We shall talk further anon.”
“I look forward to it, my lady,” Obi-Wan says, and doesn’t break into a smile until after the call disconnects; Leia’s dignity deserves that kindness.
“She won’t be deterred,” Breha says, and the fond exasperation is so familiar that Obi-Wan can taste it on his tongue from years of teaching Anakin. “But Bail and I have a suggestion.”
Obi-Wan leans closer to the grainy holo. It’s just Breha today; he suspects Bail is distracting Leia. “I’m listening,” he says.
“We’ll send her to you.” Breha smiles, and it’s a sharp politician’s smile as much as—if not more than—a mother’s. “She’s restless, and she needs to understand how deep the divides in society can run if she is to take up the mantle all of her parents leave her.”
Obi-Wan whistles, eyebrows raising. Of all the options he’d thought of, Leia coming to him had never been on the table. “What will you tell the people of Alderaan?”
“She’ll be on a service trip with a trusted family friend.” Breha’s smile softened. “It isn’t untrue.”
It isn’t. Or, the service part might not be precisely true, but Obi-Wan’s thinking about it now. Owen and Beru have more social connections, and even if helping moisture farmers with their lands might not be what a princess thinks of as service, it’ll certainly be the lesson Breha expects. And… He sighs. Perhaps they’ll allow him to train Luke alongside Leia, and bring his imagination away from Imperial propaganda of service. “It seems like you’ve thought of everything,” he says ruefully.
“It’s my job,” Breha says gently. “We’ll send a stipend with her, of course.”
Obi-Wan shakes his head automatically. “Physical goods are more useful out here.”
She laughs, thankfully. “That perspective is part of what we hope you’ll impart to her, Obi-Wan.”
“I’m known as Ben out here,” he says, and Breha nods. There’s sorrow in her eyes, and he doesn’t want to look at it, so instead he asks what supplies she’s willing to send with Leia, and things are simpler then.
Leia steps off the Alderaanian shuttle flanked by two droids and nobody else. There are attendants onboard, Obi-Wan knows—he can feel them in the Force—but part of the bargain he struck was that it would be Leia alone who stayed with him. Artoo and Threepio, Bail pointed out, would be of use, and Obi-Wan sighed and allowed them to be part of the deal.
His robes flap around him, and Leia looks so small; children always are, but she’s tinier still than he expects even after years around Luke. The cloak she wears dwarfs her, and he can feel her uncertainty as he walks towards her. “Welcome,” Obi-Wan says, sliding his hood off his head. “I’m Ben Kenobi.”
“Leia Organa,” she says automatically, hand extended to shake. He takes it gently. “You’re going to teach me.”
“I am,” he agrees with a smile. “Are you ready to learn?”
Leia smiles at him, and the Force blazes from her like the suns overhead. “Yes.”