Charming Footpads
If Padme could have laughed, she would, seeing that the situation was so utterly ridiculous. She would have laughed, except for the tiny detail of the man holding her arms firmly. He hadn't manhandled her or been rough, but firm; still, Padme got the distinct feeling that she shouldn't fight her captor.
Sabe glared at her own guard, who was taller than Padme's and with darker hair. "Good evening, your highness," the man remarked, cheerfully, gracefully moving with Sabe's struggles and leaving her no better off than she was before. Padme's guard laughed.
"Wrong queen," he called, teasingly. Sabe's guard groaned.
"You can't be serious."
"No, but everything else is," Padme's guard agreed cheerfully.
Seeing their ruse entirely blown, Padme's handmaidens looked toward their Queen. Silently, Padme signaled them to remain calm and wait for the right moment to attempt an escape. Pleasantly, Padme's guard said, "Don't start planning any escape attempts." Padme felt a shiver going up her back at having her mind apparently read. "We're not about to harm you," her guard continued, escorting her off the road. He guided her quickly and efficiently through the woods, without erring, despite the near-total darkness. Once or twice Padme caught the gleam of bright aquamarine eyes darted at her from under the shadow of the hood; it was all she could see of his face, thanks to the scarf that masked his features. All she knew was that he was much taller than most of the people of Naboo.
Finally, when she was about to go on, her guard murmured "We're here" in her ear and steadied her, saving a fall. Behind her, her entourage had also arrived. Suddenly, light flared—first soft and gentle, but growing slightly stronger with a few moments—all around them. Padme blinked. There were others in the glade with them.
"Good evening, your highness," said a tall man, even taller than Sabe's guard. "I apologize for our methods, but it was the only way we could meet with you without fear of being overheard."
Sabe snorted. "And here I thought you were just ordinary footpads!" she said. Padme giggled. Sabe's guard sounded insulted.
"I beg your pardon?!"
"Thank you, Obi-Wan. I think our guests will be more comfortable if you take that scarf off now," the man said. Padme's guard slid the scarf down, to rest around his neck. Padme looked up at him in curiosity. The young man ignored her.
The tall man introduced himself as Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master and Obi-Wan's mentor; Sabe's guard was Garen. The others were all volunteers either from the Service Corps—from what Padme understood, they were Jedi who had not had the advantage of one-on-one training with a Jedi Master. The discussion was somewhat serious, though not at all boring, as Padme often felt political meetings were.
As the meeting ended, Sabe crossed her arms and glared at Garen. "You rascals. And here I thought you were just ordinary footpads."
"You still owe us, though," Eirtae chimed in.
"I don't know about you lot," Padme said, "but I think this is one kidnapping that's been actually enjoyable." Swift as greased lightning, she grabbed Obi-Wan's scarf and pulled him down to her level. She firmly kissed him on the cheek, and then flounced off, grinning to herself at the hot flush that spread across the young man's face. Revenge was sweet.