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Hera never brings him food herself. She does usually help prepare it – she has a better sense of the Terran diet than most, and when it comes down to it, she doesn't fully trust the others not to poison a meal they know is going to their half-Terran 'guest.' But she always finds someone she does trust to take it into him. And then, at first, she'd waited, leaving him to eat alone before she entered his room.

She kept to the first. But the second, she gradually eased. Hera remembered how total her isolation had been, and what had eased in her when she'd grown used to sharing meals. That was something she could do, even if she wouldn't serve him.

So the time she waits becomes shorter and shorter. Until today, when it's only a few minutes after seeing Muroc exit the makeshift cabin that she approaches. She nods to the guard, and then though she doesn't have to, she knocks on the door. She doesn't wait for an answer before entering the room.

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Hera doesn't sigh. But really, what is she supposed to say to that?

"Maybe not yet."

She nods to the cups at the edge of the map. "Go get those and choose a place to sit."

Meanwhile, she heads back toward the metal cabinet.

"Okay."

His hands are a little shaky as he picks up the cups, and he picks a corner of the room that lets him get a good view of the door, but sit he does.

And waits for whatever Hera is going to do next.

Hera opens the cabinet, and within it, a slender drawer, from which she pulls out a folded piece of cardboard, and a tightly filled pouch. She balances these on one arm, and then takes the water pitcher above the drawers in her free hand, closing the cabinet with her elbow.

She walks over to where he's sitting, and settles down on the floor across from him. The pitcher is set down on the floor next to the cups. Then she sets down the piece of cardboard between them, and unfolds it, revealing a makeshift chessboard scrawled across it. Next she unzips the pouch, out of which spills a collection of rough-hewn and mismatched pieces.

It's a far cry from the beautiful set Thrawn had used to teach her, but even now that was still locked in his office, and determined young Hera had made her own alternatives.

Kanan looks from the pieces, to the board, back to Hera.

It seems like the answer should be obvious, but he asks anyway.

"Do you like to play?"

"I've been playing for years."

She starts separating out the pieces between black and white. "Commander Thrawn thinks it's important to understand one's enemy."

Kanan lifts both eyebrows, he can't quite help himself.

"Do you play against all your enemies?"

She blinks up at him.

"The game is Terran."

A pause, and then. "Playing it helps me understand Terrans."

"You think it'd help me understand Terrans?"

"I don't know."

She starts lining the black pieces up on her side of the board. "But it's something to do."

"It is," he slumps a little, reaching out to put the white pieces in their place -- mimicking her assembly where he's uncertain.

"And I think I'd like to learn."

"You haven't played it?"

She can't quite hide her surprise in her voice.

"It's a Terran game," he emphasizes. "And I'm not, really."

He's not looking at her while he says that.

But Hera does look at him, for a moment, before her eyes fall back to the board.

"Then maybe you will learn something."

She runs her fingers over the pieces, then closes them around one, lifting it closer to Kanan.

"This is the king," she says. "The object of the game is to trap this piece. That's called 'checkmate.'"

Hera puts the piece back down, and adds, "I read that the word comes from an old Terran language, meaning 'the king is dead.'"

"Long live the king."

Kanan's voice is bitter, and he flinches at the sound. He didn't intend to say it like that.

Hera's eyes flicker up, but just for a moment.

"The king can only move one square in any direction. Which means that while the most important piece, he's also one of the weakest."

Edited 2018-08-16 17:03 (UTC)

"If only that were true," Kanan mutters, then shoves that voice down and away, because now is not the time.

"Sorry. Which one's the strongest, then?"

Hera moves her hand, tapping the piece next to the king.

"The queen can move in any direction, and any number of squares at a time."

Kanan watches her for a long, silent moment.

"Hard to anticipate, then?"

"And a good distraction."

Hera lifts her hand away again. "You can't ignore her, and most of the time, you don't want to lose her."

There's a wariness in his gaze again.

"Only most of the time?"

Hera tilts her head.

"There might be a strategy, or gambit, that involves sacrificing her. But usually, that won't be until near the end of the game."

"To ensure victory," Kanan says, because . . . that makes sense.

"And if you trick them into thinking victory is within their grasp when it's not -- "

"Or keep their eyes on one front and off another."

Hera nods.

Edited 2018-08-16 18:09 (UTC)

"Does it really work on th -- "

Them. He cuts himself off, blinking hard.

"Terrans."

Hera thinks about this, her eyes still on the board.

"When he taught it to me," she begins, "the Commander said that the game isn't a good metaphor for battle itself, but works to practice one's understanding of their opponent."

She glances up to him, for a few seconds, and then back down again as she speaks. "The Terrans created this game. That suggests their understanding of one another recognizes the potential for distraction, to jump at phantom victories, to see a prize they can't resist."