Author's Notes: Sabé fans, you'll love this part.
DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
Rabé yawned tiredly as she reached for the Queen's door. Last night had been long, especially after that horrible dream about having to wield a blaster rifle against that crazy, lightsaber-swinging pervert. She jumped and gave a surprised yelp when she felt a sudden hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, it's just me!" Eirtaé said, holding up her hands. "Ugh, Rab, you look bad. Did you sleep okay?"
"Bad dream," Rabé said sullenly. "It's time to wake up the Queen. She's supposed to have breakfast with Prince Westerly in an hour."
"I know," Eirtaé said. "But the Prince sent word that he wasn't feeling well this morning, and asked that perhaps they could move it to another time."
"Is he all right?" Rabé asked. "We should tell the Queen."
"No... I think it would be better to let her sleep. Poor girl's had a rough few days, you know?"
Rabé fidgeted for a moment. Amidala had seemed overtired. Maybe if she could get some rest, she would be thinking more clearly. And spend more time with her future husband instead of that lout, Obi-Wan. "I guess so. Do you think I should stand guard and see that she's not disturbed?"
"Good idea!" Eirtaé said brightly. "I'll see you later, okay?"
"Okay," Rabé agreed.
Eirtaé shook her head as she headed back towards the handmaidens' quarters. They'd really intended to include Rabé, but somehow, she was never around, and then she'd started spouting off Westerly's praises. Eirtaé felt bad about keeping one of her friends in the dark, but at times, Rabé could be a little... nutty. This was definitely one of those times. "Well," Eirtaé said to herself. "Now it's time to see that the Queen gets to her breakfast."
Prince Westerly of Jocar smiled at his bride-to-be across the table. She looked at him, and attempted a half-hearted smile back.
"Coffee, m'lord?" one of the servants offered.
"Please," Westerly said.
"You drink coffee?" Amidala asked, voice dripping with contempt.
"Er... I thought it was a quaint, local custom," Westerly said, pushing his cup away. "Never had the stuff." He winced. Someone had certainly gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that morning.
"I've been thinking about this idea you've been having for a Jocarian wedding ceremony," Amidala said slowly. "I don't like it. I think we should have a fully Nubian service."
"Er... I thought we'd agreed. We'd do kind of a... mixture of the two."
"I changed my mind," Amidala said coldly.
"Oh. My parents will be disappointed."
"You'll just have to explain it to them, then."
"Er... yes."
"Furthermore, I was investigating the customs of your planet regarding heirs..."
From the corner of the room, Eirtaé grinned. Sabé must be having a blast. I wish I could be the Queen's doppelganger, Eirtaé thought to herself.
Queen Amidala woke up slowly and stared at the ceiling. Something was wrong. She sat up, and noticed Rabé standing vigilantly next to the door.
"Wasn't I supposed to go to breakfast this morning?" Amidala mumbled.
"Prince Westerly was feeling ill," Rabé explained. "He canceled the breakfast. We thought it best to let you sleep in."
"Thanks," Amidala said, stretching. "I needed it. I guess I just really wore myself out last night."
"Er... yes," Rabé agreed awkwardly.
Amidala sighed. "Thank goodness for Obi-Wan. He's always there, just when you need him."
Rabé made a strangled sound in her throat.
"And he always knows exactly what to do to make me feel better."
Rabé whimpered.
"Well, I suppose I'd better get moving. As much as I'd like it, I can't exactly stay in bed all day." She slid out of bed, and headed for the bathroom.
"'Wore herself out last night'?" Rabé echoed quietly, with a slight shudder. "Eugh! That pervert!"
Eirtaé was going to explode from laughter if this went on much further. So far, Sabé had Westerly convinced that if they had an heir, she wanted it named after her great-uncle Ghunash, that he wasn't allowed to wear anything blue after they were married, and that his pet tabba was evil and she wanted it destroyed.
"Look, Amidala, are you sure you got enough sleep last night?" Westerly asked, moving to pat her hand comfortingly.
"DON'T TOUCH MY HAND!" Sabé shrieked, aghast. "You pervert!"
That time, Eirtaé did snicker. Rabé was the only person she knew who went around proclaiming men perverts.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Westerly gasped. "Er... I suddenly remembered that I have some business in my chambers. If you'll excuse me, your Highness."
"Hmmph," Sabé said, crossing her arms, sullenly.
Westerly scooted out of the room like a scared pakupaku.
Eirtaé and Sabé broke into giggles at the same time.
"Oh... I can't believe he bought it..." Eirtaé gasped.
Sabé managed to control herself for a moment, and straightened up. "Bask in my genius, amatuer."
"Oh, I am!"
Suddenly, there was a slight noise, and Westerly's grinning face appeared in the doorway. "That was some sort of test, wasn't it?"
Eirtaé and Sabé exchanged glances.
"Amidala, I think I love you more, every day." He quickly crossed the room, and kissed "his fiancee" passionately. "I've really got some errands to attend to. I'll see you later, okay?"
The room was filled with silence for almost a minute, before Sabé finally opened her mouth.
"Eeewww!"
"So, any leads on the brat?" Panaka asked good-naturedly.
Obi-Wan scowled. "I chased his aura around this palace for two hours this morning. I can FEEL him, but I just can't SEE him."
"That's odd," Panaka said, scratching his head. "I'm also kinda scared that a ten-year-old can run around this place for three days without any of my Guards reporting it." Panaka paused for a moment. "Hey, Jedi."
"Hmm?"
"What are you going to do when you find him?"
"I'm going to drag him back to Malastare by the ear, that's what I'm going to do."
Panaka scratched his head again. "And what about Amidala?"
Obi-Wan flinched. "I can't abandon her... I guess I'll just have to stick around until the wedding-- or until we can stop the wedding."
"As Head of Security, I'll just pretend I didn't hear that. And one problem-- what are you going to do with Anakin? You told the Queen he was on Coruscant."
"Aaarrgh!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, slapping himself in the forehead. "You're right. You're absolutely right. I don't know what I'm going to do."
"And back on that subject of stopping the wedding..."
"Er, I thought you didn't hear that."
"Yeah, whatever. You got a plan, Jedi?"
"I had one, but I thought the lightsaber marks on the body would be too distinctive."
"Good plan. You surprise me, Jedi. I figured you for the type that would just sit back and hope things work out for the best."
"Amidala is my friend. I don't want her to be unhappy." That didn't really seem to cover his feelings on the matter, but it was enough for Panaka.
"You're a good man, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
"That's just a rumor I started."
"Suuure. Hey, I need to go work on the guard rosters for the wedding. You up for another few hours of the Great Padawan Search? If you find him, I'll be perfectly happy to throw him in the brig for a few days until you're ready to go home."
"He'd probably think the food was better. Thanks, Captain."
"No problem."
As he watched Panaka head off for his office, Obi-Wan felt outward again for Anakin's presence. As usual, it felt like the boy was standing right next to him. Obi-Wan sighed. "Here we go again."
Anakin chewed on his lip. He'd naturally been spying on Obi-Wan and the Guard Captain from one of the grates conveniently located every few meters along the air shaft. So Obi-Wan is on our side, he thought slowly. That was certainly new. Obi-Wan could definitely be an asset. He was a full-fledged Jedi, and he had the freedom to wander around the palace and interact with just about anyone he wished. But then again, he was Obi-Wan.
As Anakin watched his Master's familiar bad haircut pass, he steeled himself. He wanted to save Amidala, and if it meant enlisting Obi- Wan's help, so be it.
"Obi-Wan!" he hissed. "Hey! Obi-Wan!"
Spath Kadnau winked at the pretty barmaid as she set the plate of eggs in front of him.
"Thanks, darlin'," he said, as she gave him a sly grin. Without really paying attention, Spath shoveled some of the eggs into his mouth. And promptly gagged. The barmaid set a mug of ale in front of him with a husky chuckle. "Dammit, no matter what planet you're on... tavern eggs are still tavern eggs."
Very slowly, Obi-Wan turned around. "Anakin?" he ventured cautiously.
"Yeah. It's me," the disembodied voice continued.
Obi-Wan blinked. He could sense Anakin. He could hear Anakin. He was even feeling that particular brand of annoyance he only experienced while in Anakin's presence. Just one thing was missing. Anakin.
"Hey, I heard you talking to Panaka."
"Anakin, where in the name of the Force are you?" Obi-Wan snapped.
"Huh? Oh, I'm in the ventilation shaft."
"You're what?"
"See that grate above your head? I'm right behind it."
Obi-Wan squinted up at the grate on the wall. He could just barely see Anakin's grime-smeared face, grinning through the slats. "You're a mess."
"Yeah, well, I've been crawling around the duct for two days. You're kinda grody-lookin', too. Forget an extra set of clothes?"
"This isn't about me! Get out of there this instant!"
"Um, I can't. Grate's too small. More 'portantly, did you mean what you told Panaka about helpin' Amidala? Ruinin' the wedding and all?"
"Maybe."
"Wanna join the Resistance Movement?"
"You have a Movement? Never mind, I don't want to know."
"So, you in?"
"Of course I'm in," he said sarcastically. "In what?"
"We're tryin' to stop the wedding."
Obi-Wan frowned. "What can I do?"
Prince Westerly of Jocar whistled as he walked down the hall. So far, his morning was going great. After Amidala had played that silly joke on him at breakfast, he'd gone through a few wedding preparations with his servants, then finished up a quick fitting with the tailors. Now all he had left to do was... eugh, call his parents. He grimaced. Maybe he'd make a quick stop at his bride-to-be's room before the torture began. He tapped on the door.
Saché stuck her head outside the door. Westerly. Wonderful.
"Good morning, handmaiden," Westerly said brightly. He called them all "handmaiden." "Is Amidala in?"
"No," Saché quickly lied.
"No?"
"Sorry."
"Well, where is she?"
Saché thought quickly. Where on Naboo could she say Amidala was? "She went to go talk to Jedi Knight Kenobi," she said, hoping he bought it.
"Mmm," Westerly said, nodding slightly. "Could you tell her I stopped by?"
"Of course," Saché said brightly, ducking back in the room.
"Who was that?" Amidala asked. She was half-swathed in white cloth and the royal seamstress had launched into yet another tirade on the demands of her job. Amidala and her handmaidens had quickly learned to block the frazzled woman out.
"Oh... Panaka," Saché said noncommitally. "He's doing security checks, and wanted to make sure you were in your room."
Meanwhile, Prince Westerly stood in the hallway, scratching his chin. "Jedi Knight Kenobi. Hmm."
Captain Panaka studied his charts for the sixth time. He'd drawn so many arrows that he wasn't sure where he had men stationed anymore. He sighed. As if anyone would want to attack the nuptials of Naboo's beloved Queen and the stupidest monarch-to-be in the galaxy. He secretly hoped that someone did attack the wedding. Maybe they could rustle up that Gungan army again. Just as he started to concentrate on his charts again, there was an insistant pounding on his office door, and it was unceremoniously flung open.
"Hello, Captain," Prince Westerly said brightly.
Oh, joy, Panaka thought.
"Mustering the troops for the wedding?" Westerly asked, peering over his shoulder.
"Arranging security detail, yes," Panaka said tersely.
"Hmm. Very interesting."
You have no idea what you're looking at, Panaka thought. "Is there something I can do for you, your Highness?"
"Er, yes. I had a question."
"Go ahead."
"What, exactly, is your policy on where palace guests can and cannot go?"
"Huh?"
"Well, it just seems to me that some of the guests have been wandering around, sort of unchecked..."
"Are you talking about the Gungans?"
"Er, no. Actually, I was a bit curious about that Jedi fellow, Kenobi."
"Kenobi?" Panaka echoed, his voice tinged with a hint of outrage.
"He just seems to be--"
"Your Highness, Jedi Knight Kenobi is a dear friend of Queen Amidala's. He comes and goes as he pleases, and I don't ask questions. Neither should you."
Westerly colored slightly. "Pardon my ignorance, Captain," he said stiffly. "I'll just be on my way."
Panaka shook his head as Westerly walked out of the room. "Idiot," he mumbled.
In the hallway, Prince Westerly shook his head sadly. "Shameful. Even the servents know."
"And you expect me to have a WEDDING DRESS with only THREE days to plan? You'll be the death of me, Amidala, I swear it!"
Amidala sighed at her seamstress's melodramatics.
"You'll finish it on time," Saché said comfortingly. "You always do."
"Ha! And there won't be a bit of shoddy workmanship in it, either!"
"Of course not," Amidala said smoothly. "You're a genius."
"Again, ha! I need more pins." The seamstress wandered off in search of more straight pins.
Amidala stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She was getting married in less than a week-- she should be excited, jumpy, something. Instead was just an impending sense of doom.
"You'll look beautiful," Saché said softly, smoothing some of the stiff cloth wrapped around Amidala.
"I don't see why it had to be white," Amidala grumbled.
"The Prince said it was a custom on his world. You both agreed it would be nice."
"But white's such a... cheery color. Do I still have that mourning dress anywhere?"
Saché bit her lip. "M'lady, I know it's not my place to question..."
"Oh, please do."
"You obviously don't want to marry the Prince. Why are you going through with it?"
"Because that's what Queens have to do, sometimes."
"Oh. Handmaidens don't have to marry anyone they don't want to. You could hide out with us for a while."
Amidala smiled sadly. "And then who are we going to marry off to Westerly?"
"Well... I don't think Sabé would do it. But I think Captain Panaka would look lovely in white."
"Found the Prince's room again," Anakin reported through the comlink.
"Is he in?" Ric asked.
"Yup. Just walked in." After a long talk with Obi-Wan, Anakin agreed to meet with him later, outside the ductwork, to discuss the marriage situation. But now was the time for spying. He pushed himself as close to the grate as he dared, and observed the Prince.
Westerly seemed almost nervous. He paced the room a few times, then worriedly sat down in a chair, and fiddled with something for a moment. A little hologram fuzzed into existance in front of him. Anakin was just able to make out two figures-- a man and a woman.
"Hello Mother, Father," Westerly said, sounding like a man who was about to be thrown to a sarlaac plant that hadn't eaten in a few decades.
"Westerly, dear, how are you?" the woman's voice filled the room.
"Well, the wedding plans are going just swimmingly..."
"I don't see why you couldn't just marry a nice Jocarian girl."
"Mother, we discussed this. We want to make an alliance with Naboo, and we agreed this was the best way possible."
"Don't sass your mother, boy," another voice piped up.
"Father--"
"She's been telling me how to live my life for over thirty years now, and I'm still alive."
Anakin frowned. This entire conversation seemed so... wrong.
"Are you sure you can't come for the ceremony?" Westerly pressed.
"Darling, you know the Annual Yoopta Festival is in a few days. Even if we left after the festival, we'd still never make it in time. I don't know why you couldn't have scheduled a few days later, but we absolutely need to be here."
"Amidala insisted, Mother."
"Well, at least she knows how to handle a male..."
"We'll be there in spirit, son. And we'll send the marriage yerknahs, of course."
"Er... Father, about the yerknahs..."
"You're getting the yerknahs whether you want them or not," Westerly's mother warned.
"Yes, Mother."
"Was there anything else, Westerly?"
"No, Mother."
"Good luck, then. And call me tomorrow. Don't forget."
"I won't, Mother."
"Have fun at the bachelor party!" Westerly's father called, right before the transmission dissolved.
"I hate my family," Westerly muttered.
In the ducts, Anakin grinned.
Sabé sighed as she worked on her needlepoint. Normally, sewing calmed her, but today, her mind just refused to settle itself. Part of it was the wedding. Part of it was that things were very quickly getting out of control. Sabé liked control. She liked things nice and neat and tidy. Suddenly, the door swished open, and an absolutely filthy Anakin Skywalker dashed in.
"Hey, Sabé, guess--"
"You are a mess," Sabé informed him, putting aside her sewing.
"Yeah, I know, but--"
"You need a good scrubbing."
"Sabé! Listen to me!"
"No, young man, we're giving you a bath, first."
"No way!"
"And your clothes could use laundering as well."
"Sabé, no! Look, I talked to Obi-Wan, and he's in with us. He's meetin' me here in twenty minutes!"
"That is plenty of time for a decent cleansing," Sabé said, picking up Anakin, but holding him as far from herself as possible. "And I would like to speak with your Master, as well. Your personal hygiene habits are dreadful."
"Sabé!" Anakin wailed.
Ric Olie stared at the collected pilots under his command. They were all experienced, capable fighters. And they just weren't getting it.
"Okay, Daako, you come in from the south. And go low. Mess up everyone's hair. Padai, you're with him. Now, Narr and Gorl--"
"Sir, I don't get it," Padai said, raising his hand.
"What don't you get?"
"I thought this was just a ceremonial fly-over. Why is it worked out like an attack pattern?"
"The Queen wanted something a little different."
"Oh. I thought just a simple fly-over would be nice."
"Okay, Padai, when you marry the Queen, we can do that, okay?"
"Yes, sir."
Another pilot raised her hand.
"Yes, Tak?"
"Is this flight plan actually authorized?"
"Of course it's authorized! Who do you think you're talking to, here?" Authorized, Ric scoffed mentally. Like anyone would actually authorize something like this.