Please see the first chapter for disclaimer and other info
A/N: I'm baaaaaack! Sorry this took awhile everyone, Linny my muse ran away for a while and KD just returned her. I'm just trying to adjust to my new university schedule this semester and now I don't have as much time as I used to left for writing. Thank you to ALL of you who reviewed my prologue, it gave me loads of inspiration!
Chapter One: The Invitation
Anakin sank back into his favourite chair in Padmè's official apartment in Coruscant. He had just come back from teaching at the Temple. Being surrounded by ten-year-olds with lightsabers had proved quite a challenge, even for the grand Jedi Master himself. Although the sabers had been set to 'stun', that didn't stop the little ones from repeatedly attacking Anakin's legs.
He had reprimanded them for un-Jedi like behaviour, while trying to ignore the fact he did the exact same thing to Obi-Wan when he was an annoying padawan. The memory brought a smile to his face. Sighing, he put his feet up and closed his eyes.
Peace and quiet. Or so he thought.
"Excuse me, Master Anakin."
Once again, Anakin nearly jumped five feet in the air. He could sense just about anybody sneaking up on him with those finely tuned Jedi skills, but when it came to overbearing protocol droids that preferred wearing aprons when cooking, it was something else entirely.
"What is it now, Threepio? Artoo make fun of your pink apron again?" Anakin snickered, eyeing the pink frilly apron Threepio was currently wearing. Unfortunately, the humour was lost on the droid.
"Not as such, Master Anakin. It seems there is a holo message waiting to be answered in Mistress Padmè's office. Artoo was wondering, since the Mistress was out on business, if you would like to take the message?"
In any other circumstance, Anakin would have agreed immediately. But he was so comfy in his chair…
"Can't you do it, Threepio?" he asked.
Anakin swore he heard Threepio cuss under his breath. "I beg your pardon, Master Anakin. I am in the middle of making your dinner. I slave away in the kitchen all day and…"
"Threepio…" Anakin interrupted, his tone promising more circuitry harm if he continued. "Just do it without the melodrama."
With a swift nod, the droid trotted off to take the message for his wife. Whoever it was could wait to speak to Chancellor Skywalker herself. Anakin was not a messenger service.
He could hear Threepio talking in the office not too far away from the living area. Why he had created Threepio with such an annoying butler-like personality was beyond him. He was mostly useful, but sometimes Anakin felt like letting Han fulfil his promise to "blow up that smart-mouthed, pestering, goldenrod droid".
Anakin grinned as he leaned back and enjoyed the imagery. It kept him entertained for a few moments until the droid returned again. "Master Anakin," he began.
Rolling his eyes, Anakin sat up straight and looked right into the droid's mechanical ones. "What. Is. It. Threepio?"
"They say the message is quite urgent and they wish to speak with you. It seems they are not taking no for an answer."
Who in their right mind would be harassing the apartment of the great Galactic Skywalker clan?
Did they not know of the saying; Let Sleeping Jedi Lie?
Well, whoever they were had better have a good reason. "Who is it, Threepio?"
"I do believe the signal has the encryption pattern of the House of Organa from Alderaan"
Anakin was out of his seat like a flash of lightning. "Why didn't you say so?"
He took a deep breath. Yelling at the poor droid wasn't the best idea. He couldn't really defend himself. It would be too easy. Yelling was best saved for those who could yell back enough to entertain Anakin. Like Han.
Anakin finally made it into the office and switched on the holo. The clear image of Bail Organa appeared on the screen.
"Nice of you to finally answer the holo, Master Skywalker," came the sharp yet light-hearted reply. Anakin took a moment to look at his friend. He had aged well.
"You know how it is, Your Majesty. You put your feet up, your droid makes you dinner and when your wife's not around you can't be bothered answering the holo anymore."
Bail chuckled at the odd sense of humour of Anakin Skywalker.
"Everything's alright? Nothing's wrong with Leia?" Anakin asked, studying the features of his comrade.
"No, it's nothing like that. I just wanted to ask you something in person, that's all."
Anakin raised his eyebrow. "Go on."
Bail cleared his throat. "Alderaan is hosting a formal dinner in celebration of Leia's settlement of the Cortane Sector Peace Trade Treaty. Padmè has received the official invitation today for the Skywalker clan, but I thought I'd invite you here a few days early for the celebration. If your schedules permit, of course."
"I'll have to speak to Padmè first, Your Highness, but I'm sure it can be arranged." Anakin paused momentarily. Should he ask?
"Bail…will Han be invited to this event? Because if so, I'll have to give him a couple of lessons on how to properly behave at Republic Functions."
If Bail hadn't grown up with refined manners, he would have snorted. He'd met the infamous Han Solo and was surprised Anakin approved of the man at all. He had quite the rough tongue on him. The image of Han conversing with the numerous Republic officials scared him.
But the details of what he really wanted to talk to Anakin and Padmè about were a little too sensitive for Han's ears. It would be a delicate situation- but Leia would never forgive any of them if he wasn't allowed to come.
So Bail remembered his politeness.
"Of course Han is invited. But he isn't required to come early."
Anakin sighed, full of relief. "Thank you, Your Highness. Goodbye."
His Jedi senses told him that Bail Organa was acting suspiciously. And for some reason, he was sure it had something to do with Han Solo. Not one to sit back and do nothing, Anakin immediately dialled a familiar holo code. He was going to try to do this the polite way.
The Handbook of Jedi Politeness
When comrades and family friends begin acting suspiciously, it is always due to an outside source, usually influences that are tall, have shaggy hair, a distinct Corellian smell and a fascination for wooing intelligent brunettes and annoying the hell out of their fathers.
Within moments, he was connected.
