Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Star Wars. Nothing. Nada.
AN: If anyone is reading, here's the sequel! It's actually complete and I'm in the middle of editing, so I'll be updating slowly. It will get finished, but there might be breaks in updates because I've got work and life, but having the story done except for editing will make things easier. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 1
9 years later
"Ooh look! Get some of those! I love those!" Saché excitedly whispers, pointing to a yellow colored pastry.
"We are supposedto be wooing potential investors and scoping out potential problems. Not stuffing our faces," Sabé mutters in response.
Saché rolls her eyes, stuffs a sugared fruit in her mouth. "We have been. We 're allowed to eat though. Starving isn't a requirement."
She stuffs another florescent green fruit in her mouth and munches happily on it while Sabé scowls.
"This is why you got kicked out of that casino," she mumbles to herself.
They turn from the table once Saché has sufficiently plundered the candied blumfruit and observe their crowded surroundings.
It's an exceptionally dull formal gala, hosted by a prominent businessman from Alderaan. He sells something, wine Sabé thinks. It's not very good, but it's easily accessible to the masses, very popular, and making the doughy old man credits hand over fist.
Their mission, as Padmé-now Senator Amidala- explained it, is to build up connections and promote Naboo's interests among those in attendance, people who had power, influence, and most definitely, money.
"We could just market our own shoddy, dirt cheap wine," Saché complained. "It'd be easier."
"That's...not the point Sach." Padmé adjusted her gown, the hologram flickered. "Naboo needs allies, and the best way to gain those is through commerce."
"We could market ourselves as a banner vacation destination," Saché suggested.
Ignoring her, Padmé finished telling Sabé which individuals they need to focus on before wishing them luck.
"Be a senatorial aide, they told us, it'll be glamorous, they told us," Saché huffed, digging out a dress. "Why do we keep getting sucked into this stuff?"
When Padmé had traded the position of Queen for Senator, Sabé and Saché had been the only Handmaidens to make the transition with her.
Their Lorrdian heritage made them invaluable to the new Senator. Reading kinetics, body language, and influencing those around them with mimicry, unsurprisingly, is useful in the galactic political arena.
Eirtaé had settled down with Savoon, a match Saché took full credit for, and decided to stay on Naboo and train the next generation of handmaidens.
"If I can hammer manners into Saché I can make any girl presentable," she'd told Sabé, after she'd accepted the post.
Rabé married, opened a dressmaker shop in her home valley, and was pregnant with her third child.
Yané had gone to the Technical University in Theed, and then joined the on planet security.
Sabé didn't begrudge them their choices, but there were days she missed them. Padmé's new handmaidens simply weren't as close as those that had gone through the invasion together.
Sighing, Sabé takes one of the pastries from Saché's plate.
"If that handsie Duro comes back around I'm ducking out. Padmé can fire me if she likes, but they don't pay me enough to put up with that. I'm telling you if I don't have bruises on my hip from that dance I'll die of shock," Saché grumbles under her breath, smiling the entire time.
Sabé grinds her teeth, fights off the urge to roll her eyes. "No you won't.
Sighing wearily, Saché makes a defeated noise, smile never faltering. "No, I won't."
A Bothan comes tottering towards them, obviously drunk, and then begins chattering pleasantly. He's one of the names Padmé gave them, so the girls smile, laugh at his terrible jokes, and nod as he babbles on.
It's easy, but dull.
After half an hour, Sabé begins to wonder if Saché has an escape route planned. There'd been a window in the bathroom, if they held their breath they could wiggle though it...
"…and of course technology," she hears the Bothan, Kast Ley'kin, finish. Finally
"Naboo has a great interest in all of those things. I'm certain some kind of exchange program could be formed," Saché cheerfully prattles back. She probably hadn't been listening any better than Sabé, but one quick glance at the Bothan tells them everything they need to know.
He's peddling just what their Senator wants them to get invested in Naboo.
"Our academies try to expose the youngest among us to all the knowledge they possibly can, what you describe could be immensely helpful in furthering our education system," Sabé adds.
The Bothan looks immeasurably pleased with this praise, however generic and dim, and pulls holo-cards from his pockets handing one to each of the girls.
Once he's wobbled away, Sabé lets out a long breathe, examining the card. "Padmé will be pleased with that."
Saché nods, glances around the room.
"Ooh! Look over there, Sabs. Those two, the Quarran and the Twi'lek, are definitely having an affair."
Out the corner of her eye, Sabé sees the pair and nods.
"Definitely." Not that she cares.
"If we catch them I'm making a holovideo we can use as leverage, then we never have to come to anymore banal banquets ever again," Saché informs her, grin widening at the thought.
Sabé's pleasant expression falls for a moment and she shoots her sister a mortified look. "Are you suggesting we blackmailthem?"
Saché nods. "Yeah."
"We are not blackmailing anyone."
"Why not?" Saché asks, looking honestly confused. "Are we politicians or not?"
Ignoring her, Sabé takes her by the arm and drags her away from the food.
They manage to draw in a Correllian who controls various trade routes and explain how beneficial it would be for him to expand and include Naboo. It's so tedious, and he's so obviously only speaking to them in the hopes of getting them into bed, that by the time the conversation ends and he's given them contact information Sabé is more than willing to let Saché blackmail someone.
"My face hurts," she mutters, hitching the front of her dress up.
"Mine too. I wonder if we've done some kind of nerve damage. Do you think we can get compensation for that?" Saché whispers back, popping her jaw.
Sabé rubs her cheek. "Probably not."
"Pity."
Saché turns, putting her back to the Duro from earlier, scans the room, her expression freezing with her eyes just over Sabé's shoulder.
Sabé raises her wine glass, pretends to inspect it while trying to use it to see what has so fascinated her sister. "What is it?"
"It's a who, and I'm not sure yet."
She links her arm with Sabé's and pulls her along, weaving through the drunken dancers and past the adulterous Twi'lek and Quarran, toward another table laden with food.
They side step a few potential dance partners and politely declined the ones they can't avoid before reaching the object of Saché's curiosity.
It's a young man, tall, a little on the thin side, short sandy hair and a very familiar, very silly looking little braid.
Glancing down, Sabé spots the lightsaber at his side. A Jedi, though not even Saché could've known that from where they'd been. There's something more that's caught her eye.
He's apparently a very hungry Jedi, because he's shoveling food onto his plate and into his mouth at an alarming rate, as though he hasn't eaten in some time and is afraid the food might vanish if he doesn't capture it quickly enough.
"You know," Saché whispers loudly as she smirks at her sister, "I've never seen someone do such an accurate impression of a black hole."
Sabé shakes her head. "I don't think black holes pull things in quite that quickly."
The young Jedi turns around sheepishly, color rising in his cheeks. His shoulders droop and his eyes fall to his boots as he mumbles an apology.
"Oh, we're just messing with you." Saché laughs, playfully swatting at the arm not holding the highly piled plate. Her eyes narrow and she studies him a moment longer before she finally speaks.
"Anakin?"
The young man's head jerks up and Sabé sees his blue eyes, and looking closer, the traces of the little boy that had left them on Naboo all those years ago. A grin breaks out on his face.
"You two-you're handmaidens!"
"Were handmaidens," Sabé corrects him.
"We've been promoted," Saché adds, polishing her nails on her dress and grinning.
In half a breath they find themselves in a crushing hug.
"Air, Sweetness," Saché gasps, tapping his shoulder.
He quickly releases them, looking sheepish again and muttering, "Sorry."
"No worries," Saché reassures him, sounding a bit breathless.
"What are you doing here, Anakin?" Sabé asks once she's re-inflated her lungs.
Galas are hardly a big draw for Jedi. They've only seen one other in attendance, and he wasn't a Jedi anymore. It's a bit worrisome.
"We were invited, well, the Jedi were invited to send representatives, and we were chosen to come. We end up protecting their interest so often they kind of owe us," he rambles excitedly. "Is Padmé here?"
He cranes his neck, searching over the crowd for the Senator.
Saché stifles a laugh.
"No, she delegated this little task to us," Sabé tells him, offering a smile in consolation.
His disappointment is palpable. "Oh."
"We'll tell her we saw you and that you send your best," she attempts to reassure him.
Anakin smiles gloomily before picking up one of the pastries from his stack and eating it whole. Saché looks impressed.
Sabé curiously glances around. "Who're you here with?"
It's a mistake to ask.
He shrugs dismissively. "My master and a couple of other Jedi and their padawans."
"Your master?"
Sabé's stomach drops out and down to her ankles. Of course his master would be here, and of course his master is Obi-Wan Kenobi.
She quickly considers telling her sister the Duro is heading their way just so they can make a stealthy get away. Her schoolgirl crush refuses to let her though. "Where?"
Saché's eyes harden.
She no doubt remembers how dispirited her sister had been following the Jedi's departure. The two girls had sat up many a nights discussing crushes and Sabé's hopeless, unrequited one on Obi-wan. Despite Saché's assurances it would be fleeting, Sabé never had quite gotten over her feelings for him.
"At the table with the others."
Anakin gestures with his plate, nearly losing some of his food. His quick reflexes save it from the floor, though he still gets a terse chirp from a cleaning droid.
Sabé looks to where he gestured and there, seated with a kind of careless grace, is Obi-wan.
He's slouched over, leaning on one arm and speaking in low tones with another apparent Jedi. His hair is longer, he has a short, scrubby beard, and he's wearing clothes reminiscent of ones he'd worn at the ball on Naboo.
Out the corner of her eye she spots Saché, clearly none too happy with the direction the reunion has taken.
Leave it be, she silently tells her sister. Leave it be and let's just go.
Sabé only smiles.
No.
Not only does she want to prove to her sister that she's fine, she can handle a stupid, childish crush, they might gather some information. Jedi are notoriously hard to get information from. They've got an inside track. Maybe.
It's worth a shot.
During the last few galas they'd heard things. Several systems leaving the Republic, angry rumblings, an alliance forming. At the center of all of it was a former Jedi.
It was all very upsetting to Padmé, and she'd asked them to gather as much intelligence as they could on this brewing problem.
So who better to wheedle information from than current Jedi?
Saché almost rolls her eyes. She's less than impressed with Sabé's plan, but waves her hand toward the table.
"Lead the way, kiddo."
He swallows another pastry and grins. "Alright."
Saché sighs.
This is stupid, she seems to say with every twitch of her cheek.
Sabé can't honestly say she's wrong.
She hopes she is though. Maybe seeing Obi-wan again will kill her crush.
As they approach the table, both girls take note of the others there.
There's an older human lady with her gray hair pulled back in a severe sort of way, a Gran, a very young looking Rodian, and a little Nautolan bobbing eagerly in her seat.
"Is that a lightsaber at your side or are you just happy to see us?" Saché asks, grinning at Obi-wan, her staged cheerfulness back in place.
Obi-wan stares at the two young women, speech failing to bring him an adequate response to such a remark.
Anakin nearly chokes, the Gran's mouth drops open, and the two youngest simply look dumbfounded.
"Excuse me?" The severe looking woman finally sputters, her eyebrows rising rapidly on her high forehead.
Saché burst into fits of laughter.
"Hello Obi-wan," Sabe pipes up from behind her sister, waving a shy little hand at him, and feeling very stupid.
This was a terrible plan.
For a minute he stares at her, battling between recognition and confusion before the haze lifts from his eyes.
"Sabé?"
Anakin snaps his fingers. "I knew it started with an 'S'."
Saché's jaw drops and she smacks him in the shoulder. "You didn't even remember our names? You louse!"
"Hey, I would've remembered eventually!"
"Yeah well, I'm Saché, by the way," she reminds him, her chin raising a few inches in mock indignation. She gives him a small shove. "You'd do well to remember it next time."
"If you're going to assault my padawan I may have to intervene," Obi-wan interrupts, looking like he has absolutely no intention of actually helping Anakin.
"If a Jedi can be brought down by a little woman in heels and a very restrictive dress, then I weep for the galaxy," Sabé teases, leaning over the back of one of the unoccupied chairs.
The older woman scrutinizes them, then turns to Obi-wan impatiently.
"Are these friends of yours, Kenobi?"
He blinks. A weary expression flitters across his face, equal parts annoyed and frustrated, before he answers.
"Yes. We met during the Naboo Crisis. They were handmaidens to the Queen."
She looks anything but impressed.
Obi-wan clears his throat, then gestures to each of the Jedi at the table.
"This is Master Gilim, her padawan, Ene Cene," the little Rodian's antenna wiggle slightly, excited to be mentioned, "and Master Loew with his padawan, Yeyla Miri."
The Nautolan lights up at the mention of her name, her tentacles writhing into knots around her head.
Obi-wan then turns to the girls.
"This is Sabé and her sister Saché…"
He trails off, at a loss for their name.
"Lindzee," Sabé tells him and he smiles gratefully.
"Are we allowed to sit down or is this a 'tunic only' table?" Saché asks, well-practiced faux sweetness so thick it could drown a man.
"Please do," the Gran, Master Loew, answers, standing and pulling out a seat.
Master Gilim glares at them stonily.
Sabé gracefully takes the seat nearest Obi-wan while Saché sits to her left, nearer Anakin.
"You two are business women," Master Gilim states, unimpressed with the pair of them.
"No," Sabé corrects her, smiling and trying to warm her to them. "Senatorial Aides. For Senator Amidala of Naboo."
Despite her stoic expression, icy glare, her appraisal of them is clear.
This, her body seems to shout, is the best Naboo has to offer? Pathetic.
"How lovely," she stiffly replies, even though she obviously thinks it's anything but.
Sabé sees Saché out the corner of her eye, plotting for the slight against them.
"And Senator Amidala sent the two of you instead of attending herself, why exactly?" Master Gilim wonders aloud, an edge in her voice, apparently disliking the Senator every bit as much as her Aides. Probably for subjecting her to said Aides.
Saché takes a sip from Anakin's wine glass, winking at Sabé.
"She wanted to be in attendance for several committee meetings. So she sent us. We have, ah, certain social skills that are rather helpful in places like this."
Sabé grimaces.
Why can't Saché keep herself in check?
Leaning forward, trying to blocking out her increasingly loud sister telling outrageous tall tales to the amusement of both children, Master Loew, and Anakin, Sabé gives Obi-wan a small smile. "How are you Obi-wan?"
He glances, first to Saché, then to Anakin, before smiling.
"I'll survive." He waves a hand. "You've grown."
Forcing down a fierce blush threatening to overtake her face, Sabé nods. "And you've grown…a beard."
He grins, stoking his face. "Ah, yes, so I have."
"I like it. It makes you look very…wise." Even though it's a bit straggly.
Chuckling, he takes a drink from his glass before gesturing to Saché, now animatedly recounting a trip to Nar Shadaa where she'd been arrested.
"I see she's as exuberant as ever."
Saché throws her head back, laughing brightly at something one of the children has said.
Sabé chuckles.
"I think she's gotten worse. Eirtaé isn't around to fight her down anymore." She steadies her nerves with a sip of wine and grimaces. It really is awful wine. "Granted our job encourages her a bit. It's a wonder she even bothers with manners most days. What have you and Anakin been up to?"
He frowns, stares over her shoulder at Saché for a moment, than back to her, a peculiar look frozen on his face before shaking it off and answering, "Anakin and I have been off on missions. Training. Dreadfully boring things."
Sabé snorts. She greatly doubts anything the Jedi do on a daily basis is boring. Excepting the occasional gala.
"What about you? Aside from the promotion of course," he asks politely.
Politely. His posture, his facial tics, the gleam in his eyes.
He's not enjoying himself, not that she had expected him to, but still...
She didn't expect to outright bore him.
It's been a long time since Naboo though, and she should have known better than to hold on to the romantic notion that he would see her and...
She isn't even sure what she'd expected.
Feeling deflated, silly and childish, Sabé digs out her most well practiced smile. Her voice is too soft when she finally answers. "Oh, nothing."
Obi-wan's features soften and he seems to finally focus on her. "Sabé…"
"Anakin, my boy!" A male voice booms over the table, causing everyone to stop and look to its possessor.
Ambling toward, them in all his purple gowned glory, is Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.
When he reaches the table he claps Anakin on the back before finally taking a good look at the two non-Jedi at the table.
"I was going to congratulate you on your extreme good luck at picking up two such lovely ladies. However, now I feel it is my duty to warn you these two, lovely though they may be, are quite a lot of trouble."
He gently places his hands on the girls' shoulders and chuckles.
Sabé struggles to keep her smile intact for the Chancellor while Saché beams at him over her shoulder.
"Sir, you're too kind, noticing me. People are going to start thinking I'm approachable."
He chuckles. "The horror."
Turning her back to Obi-wan, Sabé brightens her smile.
"How are you this evening Chancellor?" she asks, grateful he's one of the few politicians not angling to look down her or Saché's dresses.
"Much better now that I've seen such friendly faces," he tells her, patting her shoulder paternally. His expression suddenly sobers. "I was so sorry to hear about your grandmother."
The dancing light in Saché's eyes blinks out and Sabé feels her heart constrict.
Their grandmother, their Nammy, had passed on only a few weeks before. Years of heavy smoking, too much wine, simple self-neglect, had finally overwhelmed her.
They'd mourned, cried themselves dry, taken her back to Lorrd to be placed by their mother, emptied the house, and then thrown themselves back into work as soon as Padmé would let them. They had no reason to look back to Naboo, their only ties were with each other now.
"Thank you, Sir," Sabé vaguely registers Saché say.
"She was a unique woman. A bright light in an ever darkening universe," the Chancellor gently tells them.
It may be an empty platitude, he's a hard man to read, but Sabé appreciates it all the same.
Life had not been kind to Nam, and the fact that someone as powerful as the Chancellor bothers with even the impression of mourning is a kindness.
"Very much," Sabé agrees and gives him a small, sad smile. "You're very kind to remember us. The flowers you sent were beautiful."
He pats her hand and then looks at Anakin, jovial affection back in place.
"I'm glad to see they let you take some time off to enjoy the finer things in life."
Anakin grimaces, glances at his now slightly less heaping plate and tries to hide his high spirits with a calm nod.
He looks expectantly at the others, still sitting mutely around the table. "And I take it the rest of you are enjoying yourselves."
Master Gilim continues to glare, while Master Loew, Obi-wan, and the two children nod courteously.
"Wonderful!" He claps Anakin on the back again. "I must be off then."
Before he can finish his thought though Saché stops him. "May I ask a question, sir?"
Sabé almost groans.
If there was anyone who was harder to get information out of than a Jedi, it was the Chancellor. Seeing as they hadn't even attempted asking any of the Jedi about this man looking to lead a rebellion, they might as well go for broke though.
At least that's what Saché seems to think.
Chancellor Palpatine regards her curiously, frown flashing on his face, before he smiles again. "Of course, my dear girl."
Saché's eyes focus on him, looking for hints. Truth he won't share when he answers.
"We were at a gala at the beginning of the week and," she pauses, a breath for show, to appear unsure, not a threat, "a gentleman spoke of some quite disturbing things. A possible break of several systems with the Republic. Have you heard any of this?"
Chancellor Palpatine looks thoughtful, his movements betraying nothing. It's a sure sign he's keeping something from them to Sabé.
"I've heard rumblings nothing more. I wouldn't worry too much about it."
Judging by the look that passes over Sache's face, she would do plenty more than worry about it, no matter how placating the Chancellor is, how smooth his lies are.
"If you all would excuse me, I must continue making the rounds."
He gives all the Jedi a cordial smile, a much warmer one to Anakin, then kisses Saché and Sabé's hands before vanishing into the crowd.
Sabé and Saché exchange equally irritated looks before standing.
It's all been a waste. A painful, useless use of their time and they're both ready for bed.
Sabé gives the table a polite, if frosty, smile. "It's been nice seeing you again, Obi-wan, Anakin, and very nice to meet you all."
Without so much as a backward glance, Saché links her arm with Sabé's and escapes into the night.
