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.
A soft knocking. "Master?"
Qui-Gon put down his datapad and slid off his bed, his bare feet sinking into the deep rug as he went to the door. The luxurious suite was darkened with the fall of night, but he had been unable to sleep.
As the door sped open, he saw his apprentice standing in the hallway, his body tensed and his blue eyes bloodshot. He glanced over his master's shoulder furtively. "She's not in here, is she?" he asked.
Qui-Gon's brow wrinkled in confusion. "No..."
Obi-Wan let out a sigh of relief and slipped past him into the suite. "Do you have any water?" he asked faintly. "I think I ran five times around the palace trying to get away from her..."
"Trying to get away from whom?" Qui-Gon asked, reaching into the cooler for a glass of water.
"Princess Mirika!" Obi-Wan uttered the name as if it were a curse. "You would not BELIEVE how fast she is! I swear, I think she might have broken a rib..."
Qui-Gon frowned, thinking back to the slim, golden-haired princess at the side of her father, King Ajuka. The princess, whose wedding Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were scheduled to supervise, had been noticeably giggling in Obi-Wan's direction, but Qui-Gon had had no idea she was so taken by his apprentice.
"Princess Mirika chased you?" the master asked slowly.
"Chased me, held me down, kissed me," Obi-Wan panted, running to the window and yanking the heavy, velvet drapes shut. "She's really, really pretty, Master—but she's strange. You would not BLIEVE some of the things she was saying to me on the balcony."
"Then she kissed you."
"Right."
Qui-Gon was having an increasing amount of difficulty keeping a straight face. His apprentice ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair, giving him a wild look.
"That's not the worst of it," Obi-Wan finally said.
"What's the worst?"
"Prince Calian noticed the way she was looking at me," Obi-Wan grimaced, playing with a fold of his robe. "He had little veins popping out on his forehead."
"Jealous fiancee?" Qui-Gon asked, keeping his face deadpan.
"Very jealous. He mumbled something under his breath about sauteed Jedi, and... um, I sensed that he was thinking about attacking me with the cutlery." Obi-Wan was turning redder by the minute. "If he sees me, I think he'll kill me. If I defeat him in self-defense, it could trigger a diplomatic incident."
Qui-Gon sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Obi-Wan, why don't we switch rooms tonight? The wedding is the day after tomorrow, and then we can leave for Coruscant."
Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief, looking pathetically grateful. "Thank you, Master."
As Qui-Gon gathered his few possessions strewn around the suite, he began to think about how to keep Obi-Wan out of range of the princess...
The planets of the Rubari star system had been at war for almost a century. After months of negotiations with the Republic—under another Jedi Master who had had a nervous breakdown shortly after peace was reached—the Ridia and the Jorellians were marrying the heirs of their respective worlds.
It was not a good idea, Qui-Gon thought drearily as he reread the mission report from Master Dos-Di-Mal, written right before she had snapped and sent an obscene message to Master Yoda. Princess Mirika of the Ridia was known for her flightiness and—as Obi-Wan had put it—her strangeness. Prince Calian of the Jorellians was likewise known for his temper and lack of self-control.
Maybe I should send Obi-Wan home, Qui-Gon mused. Nothing good can come from confining him in close quarters with the princess and prince.
Resolved to send Obi-Wan off in the morning, Qui-Gon set down the mission report and slid under the bedcovers.