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.
Two hours until the wedding:
The sun was shining. The birds were singing. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was a perfect morning.
Obi-Wan woke up with the worst hangover of his life.
Someone had tucked him in bed with his covers up to his chin. He was still fully dressed. He stumbled out of bed to the bathroom. After doing his business, he examined himself in the mirror.
"I look horrible," he noted. His robes were wrinkled, his eyes red- rimmed, and his hair stuck out at all sorts of odd angles. Furthermore, his head was throbbing like one of those Gungan percussion instruments.
Groaning, he stumbled back into the living area. A mug of some muddy-looking substance sat on the table, next to a note in Panaka's hand.
"Drink this, or you'll be sorry."
Obi-Wan was already sorry, but he drank it anyway.
"Aaaaauurggghhh..." he moaned.
After a moment of intense pain, most of the hangover symptoms seemed to ebb away. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. The headache faded back into a dull hurt.
"Wedding's in a few hours," he reminded himself. "Gotta get ready. I smell like... Spath." He tried to rake his fingers through his hair, and realized something was dangling from his wrist.
Amidala's hair ribbon.
Obi-Wan smiled.
"Gotta get ready. Gotta stop the wedding."
"How are we doing on time, Spath?"
"I think I can get us there in two and a half hours."
"Spath!"
"Look, Anakin, I'm doing my best, but someone's just going to have to stall."
Amidala stood perfectly still as her handmaidens primped, curled, adjusted and tied. The seconds almost seemed to be counting down in her mind. An hour and a half away. Goodbye, Padme, Hello, Mrs. Westerly.
"The ceremony is going to be lovely," Rabe said dreamily.
"Have you seen those yerknahs?" Sabe asked, voice ringing with disgust. "Euch."
Eirtae seemed to be whistling a happy little song to herself.
Sache didn't say anything as she brushed Amidala's long tresses to a silken sheen.
Something suddenly occurred to Amidala.
"Where's Tare?"
Responses came from four different directions, mostly including something about death, her grandmother and fruit. Amidala just let it slide.
"You are one handsome bastard," Westerly said to his reflection. "Yes, you are!"
Frederica stared at herself in the mirror, and tried to rearrange her dress to make her bust look bigger. It wasn't working.
"Damn you, Mother," she grumbled.
Queen Mataunia had picked out a dress for her ahead of time, just to make sure good taste was enforced. She was expecting holos of the wedding, and if Frederica was wearing anything different, she was going to GET IT.
Frederica stared at her reflection again. Trust her mother to pick something so... lame. It was pink satin, and came all the way down to mid- shin. It even had sleeves and everything. Frederica scowled at herself. There had to be something she could do to snazz up the dress. Suddenly she grinned. There had been multiple warnings about the dress, but her mother hadn't said ANYTHING about footwear...
Some mornings, Obi-Wan managed to surprise even himself. A little more than an hour after waking up as the living dead, and here he was, trotting around the palace, cold sober. His hair had behaved itself, the red eyes had disappeared after three cups of coffee, and a good scrubbing had taken care of that odor. He strode down the hallways, on his way to the chapel. He was a man with a mission.
Suddenly, a door swished open, and Eirtae stuck her head out. "Obi-Wan! You're perfect!"
"Um... thank you."
"Get in here."
She grabbed him by the cloak, and dragged him in.
"How does she look?"
Amidala stared at him, eyes large and brown against her pale makeup. Her hair was piled up on her head and trickled off in fat curls. Some sort of gold and silver hairpiece shone between the curls Her dress fit beautifully-- accentuating all the right curves in gleaming white silk. She looked like an angel.
"Well?" Sabe demanded.
"Breathtaking," Obi-Wan managed to croak out.
A tiny smile stole across Amidala's lips. "Thank you," she said so softly he could barely hear it.
"Okay, you've given your opinion, now scat," Eirtae said, pushing him towards the door. "Unless you just want to stand around and gawk for a while."
"Good luck," Obi-Wan managed lamely on the way out.
"Thank you," Amidala repeated a little louder.
And then the door swished shut.
"There's Naboo!" Spath crowed. "We made it!"
"Hooray!" Anakin cheered.
"It's almost ten o'clock," Tare worried. "The wedding's starting now."
"Oh, bother," the King commented.
"Shut up," his wife informed him. "If Mr. Kadnau says he'll get us there, I'm sure he'll make good on his word."
"We'll get there, all right," Spath said, gripping the controls with a vengeance.
Those things are the damn ugliest creatures I've ever seen in my life, Obi-Wan decided, staring at the yerknahs.
They were about five feet high, grey and lumpy. And they had an odor. A bad odor. One of them brayed raucously at Obi-Wan.
"I'm going, I'm going."
He wandered into the chapel. Most of the guests were already seated. Frederica waved to him, and gestured at the empty seat next to her.
"Thanks," he said, sitting down.
"Don't mention it."
"Nice shoes."
"Thank you," she said, admiring her spacer's boots. "Nice Jedi robes. Do you only have one outfit?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan replied.
Somewhere nearby, a huge clock rung ten o'clock. That was followed by a huge WHOOSH! that seemed to shake the chapel down to it's foundations. The yerknahs squealed in horror outside.
"What was THAT?" Frederica exclaimed.
"Ric's flyover," Obi-Wan grinned. Ric had been planning something much more elaborate, not to mention destructive, but Panaka had caught him at the last minute.
The holy man stepped up to the altar, and the music began.
"Here we go," Frederica sighed.