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.
The handmaidens were uncharacteristically quiet as they helped Amidala get ready. Amidala could barely stand it. Bad enough that she was forced into marriage, and Obi-Wan hadn't even said anything, now her best friends were treating her like some sort of porcelain doll.
"I'm still here," she grumbled.
"What was that, m'lady?" Sache asked politely.
"I haven't married him, yet. You can all still talk to me."
"Sorry, m'lady, we were all just a little... unnerved by your decision," Sabe said with a slight smile.
"I'm doing what I must for my planet. You all know that."
"Yes, m'lady," the handmaidens chorused.
"Westerly will make a fine husband," Rabe reassured. "Besides, it's not like you have any other romantic ties to get in the way. I think this marriage is a fine idea."
Sache and Sabe shared a glance. It was final. Rabe had flipped.
"Er... right," Amidala agreed. She winced as Sache pulled back a strand of hair just a little too tightly.
"Sorry, m'lady."
"I have an idea," Amidala said mischievously. "Let's go with no makeup tonight. And maybe a normal hairstyle. And pants. I want to wear pants."
"Good idea, m'lady," Sache said. "Maybe your fiance won't recognize you."
That earned her two nasty glares from the other handmaidens.
Anakin brushed some dust away from the grate, and peered through. He knew he was definitely in the guest quarters section of the palace, but most of the rooms had been empty so far. This time, he was lucky.
Prince Westerly of Jocar stood examining his reflection in the mirror.
"I think I found him," Anakin whispered into the comlink. "Dark hair, square jaw, stupid outfit?"
"Ei says that's him," Ric relayed.
"Great," Anakin said, settling down to watch.
Westerly brushed off the shoulder of his ceremonial uniform, and walked out of the room.
Anakin sighed. "He left," he reported.
"There's some sort of banquet tonight," Ric replied. "In fact... I better go get ready."
"Why're you going?" Anakin complained.
"I'm head of the fighter squadron. The girls have to go, too. Sache and Sabe left half an hour ago to help Amidala get ready."
"You're just gonna leave me here?" Anakin protested.
Silence. After a long pause, the other comlink clicked back on. "Look, kid, we're gonna leave Tare with you. You should just stay put, and wait for Westerly to get back."
"No way! I'm not sittin' here in a dirty ol' shaft for three hours!"
"You get lost, it's your butt, kid."
"Ric!"
"What?"
"If there's good food, can you at least steal some for me?"
"Sure, kid."
Obi-Wan tried to brush the last bit of dust out of his robe, and grimaced. He hadn't expected to be going to banquets when he'd left Malastare. The long walk from home to the town hadn't been too kind to his clothing, either. There were days when a working landspeeder was really convenient. He sighed and threw his cloak on. Maybe no one would notice.
He'd considered trying to borrow some clothes from Panaka, but the man was several inches taller and many pounds heavier than Obi-Wan. Oh, well, no one expected Jedi to be clean, anyway. He smoothed back his hair and stepped out into the hallway.
Captain Panaka was waiting for him, dressed in a ceremonial uniform. "Mmm, you smell good."
"Shut up, Panaka."
"Pullin' out all the stops for this one, eh, Jedi?"
"I didn't have any other clothes, okay?" he bit off.
"Nice cloak."
"Would you let it drop?"
"Sure... sure. Just as long as you know you sat in something a while ago."
"No, I didn't!"
"Believe what you want, Kenobi."
Amidala strode regally, knowing that every eye in the room was on her. It was a feeling she was used to, though she didn't exactly enjoy it. She looked at no one, maintaining an image of haughtiness and royalty. Somehow, though, she knew Westerly was staring at her in awe. Take that, she grinned mentally.
Her gown was a deep purple, trimmed in shimmering gold and silver. It was one of her favorites, though she rarely had occasion to wear it. The handmaidens had been relieved of their usual orange robes for the evening, and were clad in simple, yet elegant, lavender gowns. Amidala always secretly wished she could help them with their hair and makeup on occasion. It would be fun for one of them to be the center of attention for once. At one such royal dinner, she'd even convinced Sabe to take her place... "just for practice." She was pretty sure Governor Bibble and Captain Panaka had figured it out, but they'd been tactful enough not to mention it.
Amidala walked purposefully to her seat, next to Prince Westerly. Sure enough, his face carried a slightly-glazed look. He extended one hand, not even trying to keep the grin from his face. She took it gingerly, and turned to the room. Together, they sat down, as did the other guests.
"You look lovely," Westerly whispered.
"Yes, she replied. "I do."
Stupid seating cards.
Obi-Wan wanted to sit next to Panaka. In a pinch, he wouldn't have minded sitting next to one of the other Guardsman, or maybe Ric Olie, whom he'd spotted earlier. Instead, he was wedged between the handmaidens and the Gungan embassy.
"'Ello, Jedi," Boss Nass boomed happily.
"Greetings, your Highness," Obi-Wan nodded, hoping that was Nass's official title. Knowing the Gungans, it was probably 'Your Maxibigness' or something similar.
"Heydey-ho, Obiwun," Jar Jar added.
"Hello, Jar Jar," Obi-Wan replied. Anakin would pay for this. He would pay dearly. Maybe I can just keep eating, and no one will talk to me, Obi-Wan hoped fervently. He reached across the table for some salt.
Unfortunately, the handmaiden at his right chose that moment to turn slightly, and he ended up... bumping... her. In a most unintentional place. Her face went scarlet. "Pervert!" she yelped, scandalized.
Naturally, the Gungans found this absolutely hilarious.
So did the other handmaidens.
Yep. Anakin was definitely going to pay.
"Anakin, I think you should have stayed outside the Prince's room," Tare's voice came worriedly over the comlink.
"Aren't you supposed to be at the party?" Anakin griped.
"Probably. Where are you?"
"In the ducts somewhere. Hey, there's a big grate."
"Don't do anything foolish, Ani."
"You worry too much."
Anakin flipped the comlink off, and pushed at the grate. He couldn't see out-- some kind of white cloth was blocking the way. He grunted as he gave another push-- this one with a little Force muscle behind it. The metal gave way, and Anakin tumbled out of the ductwork. He looked up and realized he was under some sort of table. Strange noises rang out all around him. Carefully, he picked up the corner of the tablecloth, and glanced around the room. Hey, I found the party, he thought to himself. Cool.
It was Sache's turn to attend the Queen. Though the handmaidens had their own table, they took shifts of eating and hovering protectively near Amidala. Fortunately, the Queen had more pressing things on her mind, and hadn't noticed Tare's absence. Sache giggled, thinking for the sixth time of Obi-Wan unintentially groping Rabe. Eirtae would be sorry she'd missed that.
Suddenly, as she passed one of the large tables on which the food was spread, she felt a slight tug on her skirts. She glanced down to see a grubby face grinning at her from under the tablecloth.
"Anakin!" she whispered, bending down for a second. "You can't be here!"
"Is everything goin' okay?"
"It was until you showed up!" Sache exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"There's no one to watch through the vents. Everyone's here. It's boring."
"Well, you just stay bored! Look, stay under there, and don't move! Got it?"
"I like your dress. It's much prettier than the orange one."
"Furthermore, you are filthy! You're getting a bath as soon as you finish spying."
"I mean it. You look really good in purple."
Sache tried to scowl, but ended up laughing. If nothing else, Obi- Wan and his wayward apprentice had charm. "I'll try to steal you a dessert, okay?"
"You're the best, Sache!"
"Weren't there five of you?" Obi-Wan asked, as one handmaiden left, and another replaced her.
"Tare's sick," Sabe replied, just as Eirtae answered
"Tare's in the bathroom," and Rabe asked
"Where's Tare?"
"Okay," said Obi-Wan.
"Anakin!" Tare called into the comlink. "Anakin, turn your stupid comlink on! Stupid brat!"
As dinner seemed to be winding down, the Queen arose quickly, and a hush fell over the room.
"I have an announcement to make," she said. "In order to ally our respective planets, I agree to wed Prince Westerly of Jocar."
Westerly couldn't hold back his gleeful grin.
"But we shall be married immediately. By the end of the week, we shall be united as husband and wife." She sat down again, a smug expression on her painted face.
Prince Westerly of Jocar, for all his court training and suave manners, nearly spit his wine across the table. "End of the week?" he blurted out, as the room filled with polite applause and soft murmuring.
"I want the marriage kept small and simple," Amidala replied smoothly. "By delaying, we only invite ungainly interruptions." Besides, she thought. If I have to think about this for more than a week, I don't think I can go through with it.
"End of the week?" Obi-Wan echoed quietly. "I guess... I guess she does want to marry him."
"End of the week?" Eirtae repeated sadly, sharing glance with Sabe.
"Where will she find a dress?" Rabe worried.
"I think it's your turn to go attend the Queen," Sabe snapped.
"But Sache just left!"
"I think it's your turn," Sabe reinforced sternly.
Rabe huffed, but jumped up from the table.
"End of the week?" Anakin mumbled, curled up in a little ball against the wall. She was going to go through with it. She wanted to go through with it.
A minute or two passed, then the table cloth rustled, and Sache's face appeared. "You okay, Ani?"
"End of the week?" he said, looking at her pleadingly.
Sache took a quick glance around the room, then crawled under the table. She managed to scrunch down against the wall so her head only scraped the bottom of the table, and put a comforting arm around the little Jedi. "We won't let it happen, Ani. We're going to stop this wedding if we have to tackle Amidala before she goes down the aisle."
Anakin buried his face in her full skirt, and sobs racked his body for a few moments.
Sache just patted his back and let him cry.
"Argh! What's going on?!" Tare howled to no one in particular.
"So, um... you doin' anything after the banquet?"
"Ric! Amidala's getting married at the end of the week, and that's all you can say?" Eirtae scowled.
"Well... I figured we were already working on that. I'd kinda planned to be done with that by the end of the week, anyway."
"Oh... I guess you're right."
"So, you doing anything?"
"Yousa okey-day, Obiwun?"
Obi-Wan looked up. "Hmm? Oh, yes, Jar Jar. I'm fine."
"Yousa looked kinda upset. Yousa sad dat Amy-dala's gettin' married?"
"No. Of course not. I'm just concerned that she may be doing something she may regret later."
"Mm-hmm. Meesa t'inks Obiwun is JALOUS!"
"Jealous? Don't be ridiculous."
"Meesa not being ridicurus. Yousa bein' jalous."
"I am not jealous! I don't want to marry Amidala!" Obi-Wan snapped.
Every one of the Gungans and handmaidens turned to look at him.
Obi-Wan sighed. This night was just getting longer and longer.
"You okay now?" Sache asked gently.
Anakin nodded.
Sache lifted the edge of the tablecloth. "The dinner's almost over. We've got to get out of here."
"There's the vent," Anakin suggested, wiping his nose.
"Sorry, kid. These skirts aren't going to fit up there."
Anakin thought for a moment, then glanced down the long avenue of tables. "Do all these tables connect?"
"I think so."
"Any near the door?"
"This is not a good idea, Anakin."
"It's that or the vent."
Squeezing up a tiny vent would have been easier, Sache decided. Anakin had no trouble crawling under the tables, but with her full skirts, she had a hard time not brushing anyone's feet.
"There's the end," Anakin whispered.
Sache breathed out a sigh of relief. She just had to get past her fellow handmaidens, and the Gungans, and they were home free.
Anakin never saw the napkin.
Sache did.
Anakin's knee slid on the scrap of cloth and shot out from under him. Sache winced as he kicked someone's shins. Someone wearing a vaguely scuffed pair of knee-high, brown boots. Sache's stomach plunged as she realized who they belonged to.
"Get moving!" she hissed to Anakin, giving him a hard shove. The little Jedi slid across the polished floor, halfway down the table. Sache breathed out a sigh of relief.
Obi-Wan suddenly felt a sharp pain in the leg. "Ow!" he exclaimed, gaining yet another funny look from both the nearest handmaiden and Jar Jar. When they turned around again, he carefully lifted the tablecloth and looked under the table. A dark-haired handmaiden stared back at him.
"Shh!" she said angrily, then continued crawling down the length of tables.
Obi-Wan just dropped the tablecloth and sat up again. It was too much trouble to ask.
Anakin and Sache sat against the wall of the empty hallway, breathing heavily in relief.
"I can't believe we made it," Anakin gasped.
"I can't believe you kicked Obi-Wan!"
"Oops."
Sache stood up, and made a futile attempt at brushing off her dusty skirt. "The dinner's almost over. We have to get out of here."
"Right. Where are we going?"
"Er... back to my quarters?"
"Back to your quarters!"
Amidala's heart felt like it was somewhere around her lower intestines. After his initial shock, Westerly was taking the news well. He'd been chattering on about flowers and his parents for several minutes.
He was supposed to be totally floored, and call off the wedding, she pouted mentally. Well, at least I'd hoped he would.
"And I was thinking that perhaps we could do without the symbolic marriage yerknahs. I mean, they're so ill-tempered, and Naboo doesn't even have yerknahs, right?"
"Westerly, I believe I have a bit of a headache. I think I'm going to retire now."
Westerly's face twisted into concern, but he could't come up with any excuses. "Okay," he agreed finally.
Amidala stood up suddenly, and almost stumbled away from the table. In seconds, she was surrounded by her usual cadre of handmaidens. In all the excitement, she didn't even notice she was down to three of them.
"You all right, m'lady?" Sabe asked, concerned.
"I'm fine. I just want to go back to my room," she said tiredly. "The banquet is over."
Ric Olie plopped down in the suddenly-abandoned seat next to Obi- Wan. "Hey, Obi-Wan. How's it going?"
"I've been embarrassing myself all evening, thank you."
"Caught the move on the handmaiden. Slick. Very slick. But I wouldn't go for Rabe. I don't think she likes you."
"I wasn't 'going for her,' Ric."
"Sure. Whatever you say. Hey, where's that apprentice of yours?"
"Coruscant," Obi-Wan said tersely.
"Really?" Ric said, stretching the word out. "Huh."
Obi-Wan rubbed his head tiredly. "When are we allowed to leave this thing?"
"The Queen's gone, you can leave whenever you want."
"Good." Obi-Wan stood up, and bowed to the Gungans. "It was a pleasure, your Majesty."
Boss Nass nodded back, and went back to his food.
"Don't go for Eirtae, either," Ric said. "I don't think she's your type."
"Don't worry, Ric. I wouldn't dream of it."
And across the room, one of the waiters moved one of the service tables, and found that a large ventilation grate had somehow fallen off its bolts. He thought about it for a few minutes, then called maintenance.