Chapter Ten
The auction had ended and the party was now in full swing. Dancers crowded the floor, his Master was being wooed and practically suffocated by Windu's niece, and all Anakin wanted to do was hide.
But amongst the political pairings and the serious party-seekers, there was really only place he could go, realizing soon that area too would be overflowing with those wishing to erase this evening's events from their minds - like he so desperately wanted to.
"What would you like to have, sir?" the tinny voice of the serving droid asked as Anakin sat tall upon the stool opposite the temporarily constructed bar.
"Uh..." What was that foaming stuff his Master had got wasted on in Telgoria? On yeah. "One tall Sapphire Fogblaster."
"May I see some identification, sir?"
You've got to be kidding. He was 16! Just two more years and he would reach the age of maturity. He didn't have patience to mess with rules or droids. Not tonight. One flick of the wrist. One misuse of the Force. His Master would never know.
His Master.
One glance revealed Delphi indeed was planning on absorbing every nanosecond of Obi-Wan's time for the rest of the evening.
"I am of legal age," Anakin droned, adding just a trace of influence behind his words.
"You are of legal age, sir. Just a moment and I will have your drink to you," the machine muttered back.
One of those toxic concoctions would put his mind to ease. He sure had messed things up.
What had Master Yoda him once? The best-laid plans of Jedi and Sith are always...always... "Blast!" the young man spewed beneath his breath. He couldn't recall, but the harsh reality was already out there on the dance floor. He didn't need Yoda's words of wisdom to define the moment. His Master and Delphi were making quite a scene. Apparently it wouldn't be just Anakin who got to experience those gyrating hips tonight.
He had failed. He had failed his Master...and Padme. But perhaps there was still a chance to benefit from such a disaster. If he could just manage to steer clear of Padme...for the rest of his life, then maybe everything would be fine.
The drink he ordered was delivered and Anakin eyed it suspiciously. Was this the one Obi-Wan preferred? It looked the same. Dark blue, frothy, with a wisp of smoke curling from the narrow rim, but the smell. Ugh. It reminded Anakin of the blast grenades preferred by the B'tah clan on Zeldor. The smell brought back a brief memory of Anakin narrowly escaping one of those nasty explosions on that dreadful planet, and how Obi-Wan had saved his life. Again.
It also refreshed his memory of his most recent failure - and Anakin took up the drink with haste, gulping down the overwhelming liquid and instantly regretting it. It tasted as bad as it smelled, but already he had begun to feel its effects upon his perceptions.
Perhaps one glass would be enough. He wasn't sure he could stand to drink another. He had to just get it down. Quickly. He could do this, unless someone interrupted him, of course.
"Why, Anakin Skywalker, you are too young to be sitting in the dark drinking that foul stuff."
If that was Padme Amidala standing behind him, fate be damned, he was going to shoot himself in the head with the nearest blaster.
But it wasn't.
"Hullo, Mmmm'Lady." Wait, that didn't come out right.
"Breath of Heaven, please," the Queen of Alderaan ordered, which Anakin thought was fitting. The blasted drink even came in a gold-rimmed glass.
"Anakin, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to get drunk. Do you think your Master would approve?"
"I don't..." whoa. He almost said he didn't care. That would get him three weeks straight of level III 'saber drills for sure. "I just..." what? Want to forget? Go away? Disappear? All of the above?
Gratefully, Breha didn't comment on his rather inhibited oratory skills.
"They make a nice-looking couple, don't they?"
Who? Them? Was she serious?
Anakin followed the Queen's line of sight, and indeed she was looking directly at the little vixen and his Master.
"Pffffft," was what came out of Anakin's mouth, accompanied by a long line of spittle, which he discreetly tried to remove from his tunic before Breha noticed.
"You don't think so?" the elegant, dark-haired woman asked with dark twinkling eyes while Anakin took another long gulp. This blue stuff wasn't tasting so bad now. "Well, I don't think they look that bad together," the Queen continued, "and Master Kenobi seems to be having a good time. If only Padme didn't..."
That caught his attention. "Wuh?"
"I don't suppose I should be telling you this, I mean, even though you were so kind to try and match the two of them together this evening. It's a shame, because...oh well. It wasn't meant to be, I suppose."
Wait. What was she talking about?
Anakin managed to push aside the half-empty blue glass, hoping the brew hadn't damaged his hearing. "Did you mention...Pad...Pad...mmm." Damn! "P-a-d-m-e," Anakin drug her name from his thickened tongue with concentrated effort.
"Yes, dear. Didn't you know? I thought the two of you were friends. No matter. You need to know. Padme has been in love with your Master for years."