Even before the words had come to be vocalized, exited Leia’s lips and into Amalia’s ears, Amalia knew. It would have been a process that Amalia would have easily seen as the path toward resistance as seeing eye to eye, unfortunately, was not one of their strong suits always, as a team, at times. Yet because times had changed, and so had Amalia overtime, it wasn’t resistance she saw anymore. Nor did she see the moment as a moment where she was wrong and Leia was right. It wasn’t about that. No, Amalia simply saw the words for what they were, for truth. Which was why, immediately following what Leia had to say, Amalia clipped the instrument onto the place that it had always belonged and should have never drifted away from. Her utility belt. It was that simple, and while she had made this declaration toward Leia, believing every word that had come from her own lips, sometimes, oddly enough, Leia knew her better than she knew herself. Though perhaps that was not entirely correct. She could acknowledge the fact that she hid behind many things, many opportunities. Leia easily called her on it.
Amalia’s brow furrowed and she was caught deep in thought, her shoulders having slumped a little, not in defeat, but in ease of relaxation. Her gaze was directed toward the distance, but to nothing in particular.
“For years, I starved for the independence I thought you weren’t really giving me. I thought you looked at me as a child. After all, they don’t get to discuss the grownup things that they know might weigh on the shoulders of the ones they care about, even if they are young and inexperienced.”
Though the expression on her brow never changed, brown eyes easily shifted to look back at Leia.
“I took that wall that you built up, the one you would not allow me to bypass but I starved to break down, as something personal, believing that it was just because I was me, and not somebody else. Times like that, I had wished I was somebody else, anybody else, so that you would have broke the barrier..”
Amalia’s eyes misted over a little. It had been a sad approach to the experience, but back then, she had not understood, nor had she taken the time to do so. She briefly closed her eyes and upon reopening them, the tears that had threatened to cascade over were no longer present. Amalia appeared more at peace, less fragile.
“I realize now, that you didn’t want me to be anyone else but who I was. To be confident about who I was, and that anything else was just in my head.”
She shrugged it off, but back then, those feelings had caused her an overwhelming amount of strife, and she wished she could have found the understanding that she had now, back then. It would have made everything a whole lot easier for her.
“I’ve never liked that wall. I had grown to hate it, even, but I didn’t understand back then, and I thought it was something you did on purpose to me because I thought I wasn’t good enough or deserving enough to be allowed past it. You were allowing others in, but you wouldn’t allow me, and we became more estranged, though it didn’t help that I pushed you away. I realize now that it had absolutely nothing to do with me at all. You were doing what you needed to do for you and I should not have tried to push you so hard. I should have been more understanding, and for that, I’m sorry.”
Amalia did not think that Leia required any sort of apology from her, but nevertheless, over the years, the realization and the surrounding guilt over looking to blame both herself and Leia, once upon a time, had weighed hard. It was something she could have kept to herself and maybe Leia would have never known, but she felt like Leia deserved to know. She wanted the weight of the guilt to be lifted from her shoulders, and the only way to do it was to share what she’d hid for so long.
Amalia liked to think that what she was about to say, would explain it all, if it had not already.
“I guess that’s why I’m trying so hard to hide away from acknowledging that I am that Jedi Master. I didn’t want to be ashamed, but the truth was, when I handed you my saber that day, I was. I’d carried all of that with me, because I’d been stubborn and had not bothered to share it with you. I had not bothered to because I was afraid to. I thought I’d lost your acceptance, that I would always be a child to you, when I should have tried to see that you wanted me to find my way, and my confidence. When we had drifted apart, it seemed to die with ease, when before, that confidence was trying to brew over time. You weren’t just my Master, my friend; you were and always have been, like family to me. When I came to Naboo, to what seems like a lifetime ago now, I was without guidance, direction, lost. As my teacher, you changed my life. You are only one person, but you made the biggest difference in my life and at some point, when that occurred, I realized I wanted to do the same for you, even if I was the student. We grew close, and then somewhere along the way, we drifted apart. Somewhere after that, I forgot about what you wanted for me as my friend and my teacher, knowing I wanted it too, and settled into thinking about how so much change, felt like such a bad thing. I lost myself somewhere along the way after that, out of fear mostly, I think. I ran away, but I eventually came to understand that I needed that time away. I was able to get out of that slump, reevaluate, and look to find my way back. As much as I wish I could hide from what it is you’re telling me, I can’t. It’s a part of who I am, and I’ve had some of my most defining moments as a Jedi Master, and I will have more. I’ve slowly come to embrace change, now it’s the familiar that I wish I wasn’t so afraid of.”
