Lake Country, Naboo
19 BBY
When Sabe left Naboo, she always forgot the smell of the air there, and when she returned, she always realized first that it was the thing she unconsciously missed the most.
It was heavy a lot of the time, thick with humidity. Soft with it. Warm to hot in a way that coaxed a glow from people's skin and bloomed their cheeks. It was laden with the perfume of a billion flowers rather than smoke or ozone. She felt she could drink it like one of the elixirs that the Holovids sold, and that perhaps such a drink would be the secret to agelessness. The plants grew large in the lake country, with broad umbrella-like leaves that gathered the rain in crystalline rivulets on their shiny surfaces. The flowers were showy and jewel-like with extravagant shapes. She still dreamed of the nightbirds' calls, strange flute-like tones echoing for miles. Surely there was no better place for a baby to be born. Its first cry would be fueled by the very breath of life.
She took a deep, nourishing breath herself as she stepped out of the sterile, dry air of the shuttle. She stood at the bottom of the ramp and surveyed the towers, arches, and greenery of Padme's lake country estate. She was more relaxed in that moment than she had been in weeks. Months.
"So here you are, crawling back again. The rent's gone up."
Sabe grinned, and embraced the sardonic-looking blonde approaching her. "Eirtae."
Eirtae chuckled and hugged her back. Then she held her by the shoulders and examined her critically. "You look tired, my friend. Very tired."
"Coruscant," Sabe said by way of explanation, gesturing vaguely.
Eirtae nodded, and linked arms with her, guiding her away from the small landing pad and up the steps to the opulent sun room. "Thank heaven you've come to lend your questionable taste to our preparations."
Sabe snorted, and was not above digging an elbow into Eirtae's side. She was rewarded with an unladylike grunt from her sometime-roommate. On the other hand, she couldn't exactly fault Eirtae's observation. Even Padme had diplomatically hinted that her design advice was not needed in the lake country house, only her head for defense and security.
"Sabe!" Captain Panaka said, coming out to them from the gloomy interior of the house.
Sabe shook his offered hand, surprised by his warmth. His stone-faced command had always been legendary, and he was expert at pushing them all to their best. But Sabe thought she detected a bit of softening along with the signs of age around his eyes and mouth.
"I've been waiting for you," He muttered. "There's plenty enough baby talk and not near enough concern about more practical matters. If I see one more onesie or lace blanket or stuffed toy, I swear I'll-"
"There's plenty of room for practicality AND opulence for a royal baby," Eirtae sniffed.
Panaka rolled his eyes. He and Eirtae showed Sabe to her quarters, and he filled Sabe in on her duties during her stay.
To her relief, there was plenty of work unrelated to onesies, lace blankets, or stuffed toys. The house had been vacant for a while, necessitating a good overall cleaning and airing. They also needed to strengthen the peripheral alarm system on the edges of the property, sweep the house thoroughly for any listening devices or other threats, and update the surveillance system. Padme had made plenty of enemies during her career. Some could see her confinement as an ideal time to enact some revenge. Then there was the matter of her child's parentage. If that secret ever became known, many would salivate at the opportunity to strike at not only Padme's vulnerability, but also a Jedi's. Beginning that very night, she stayed up late in the grand dining hall poring over security protocols with a vigor and attention that had even Panaka looking at her askance.
At first it was the ideal escape. They spent the mornings busy, had a light lunch, and then spent the early afternoon enjoying the country before resuming their duties. Sabe enjoyed invigorating swims, long walks listening to the birds sing, and hours listening to Eirtae describe her bioengineering projects or the latest in Theed political gossip. They'd just elected a new Queen. Some were calling her "the next Amidala". Eirtae related this with a sniff.
"She looks a bit of a child next to Padme," Eirtae said scornfully.
"Does she really, Eirtae, or is it just that we are getting old?" Sabe teased.
Eirtae stuck her tongue out at her.
Before dinner each night they commed Padme, ostensibly to get her input on the preparations. But really they wanted the news on the ground. Things were moving quickly in Coruscant, outpacing the Holonews reporters' ability to cover it all in depth. She was their best source for understanding what was going on in the capital. More executive actions were coming out of the Chancellor's office. He called them "emergency actions" for the Republic's security. But it seemed that the separatists war efforts were failing. Concern was growing that the so-called temporary actions were going to made permanent. One report said that a group of "concerned senators" had gone to the Chancellor to discuss the actions and handling of the war. Sabe read between the lines and realized that Organa's resistance group had decided to move a bit more publicly and decisively.
"Do you want me to come home?" Sabe asked her privately one night, her nervousness over the day's reports overflowing.
"I'm fine, Sabe," Padme said. "It isn't me in danger. It's the Republic."
"You're visible. You're vulnerable. You can afford not to be a firebrand until after the baby is born and you are back on your feet," Sabe said
Every day Padme seemed a bit more pale, and unless Sabe's eyes were deceiving her, she was losing weight. The shadows beneath her cheekbones appeared more pronounced, with circles like purple bruises under her eyes. Sabe didn't known much about the final trimester of pregnancy, but it didn't seem normal to lose weight. But that wasn't even the worst part. It was her eyes, they were the worst. With every conversation they seemed to lose their luster a bit more. In fact, Padme's whole affect seemed dull, and very tired.
"Please tell me what's wrong, Padme," Sabe begged one night in frustration.
"I keep telling you, there's nothing wrong. I'm exhausted. I'm twenty months pregnant, that's all," Padme insisted like always with a half smile.
But Sabe knew it wasn't the truth. There was something more. Beyond her condition. Beyond her job. Which left only one thing. Sabe's hand slipped to her wrist where the livid purple bruises from Anakin's overly-rough grip had been. A chill went down her spine. "Is Anakin being unkind to you?"
"Of course not!" Padme said, with shock that appeared genuine. "What would make you think such a thing?"
Sabe flushed. "Pregnancy can be a strange time for the mother and father. It can change men. If...If it changed him, you would tell me wouldn't you?"
Padme looked at her in the holovid for a long moment. Then she said slowly, "I would, Sabe. But he would never do that. I worry for him, of course. We are all under a great deal of pressure."
Then Padme tried a different tack. "Obi-Wan has left Coruscant."
"Left?"
"On a mission."
Sabe swallowed thickly a couple of times. "Oh. Where?"
"Anakin says he is in pursuit of General Grievous. If he can apprehend him, the war will be truly over."
"That would be..." Sabe trailed off lamely. "I must go. Call me if you need me."
Padme returned the niceties, her face creased with guilt and fatigue. Nevertheless, her ploy had worked. Sabe's thoughts couldn't be any further from Anakin.
The next day they finished their preparations. The Lake House was as secure as she and Captain Panaka could make it, and even Sabe had to admire Eirtae's work in the nursery. Just as Padme hoped, it overlooked the lakeshore. The native stone walls were hung with parasilk tapestries of pastoral Nubian scenes, and the floor to ceiling windows were scrubbed until the transparisteel was invisible, making the room feel like a continuation of the glistening waters and greenery outside. Gauzy curtains pooled on the floor, and pillows were piled there. A hand carved crib dominated the center of the room with a huge overstuffed rocker nearby. In her mind's eye, Sabe could see Padme sitting before the window pointing out objects to her little one. She could almost hear the echo of her voice singing a lullaby, and the sweet gurgle of the infant.
And I will be here for all of it, she thought, her heart swelling with a love that pushed all her troubles aside.
That evening as the light turned red and dim outside, she and Captain Panaka returned to the grand hall for a final perusal of the security plans. It was the only room that remained as they had found it. They'd only used a few chairs and a corner of the room to spread out their plans and comm Padme in the evening. Otherwise, dust motes twirled in the failing twilight sun slanting through a nearby window. The fifty person table and chairs remained covered with white sheets, giving them a ghostly appearance.
"I suppose we should at least air it out before we collect Padme," Sabe said, streaking her finger through some dust on a little decorative table. "It's kind of a shame. I've never seen it in its full grandeur."
"That is a shame," Captain Panaka said. "Senator Amidala knew how to throw a soiree. She insisted on candlelight and a traditional orchestra. I've been known to turn a waltz or two, given the right occasion."
Sable gave him a dubious look, trying to imagine it. She failed. "We should give the floor a good scrubbing, too. No better place for a child of Amidala to learn to crawl than in a grand ballroom."
Then she noticed the tapestries on the wall. They looked ancient, covered with stylized flowers and other symbols, the colors faded from age. "Those are interesting. We've been working under them for days and I've never even glanced at them. What do they mean?"
Panaka half turned. "The banners? Really, Sabe, did you pay no attention to your protocol training? Those are the family crests of the five founding families of Theed."
Sabe studied them. They all featured animals arranged in clearly symbolic patterns, surrounded by flowers and foliage. Most had slogans in old Nubian at the bottoms where they could be read by anyone attending an official function. None of them meant anything to Sabe.
Until she reached the last banner in the row. She froze, icy water pouring down her spine. She did not breathe for a moment. Then she mastered herself and raised a shaking hand, pointing it out. "And...whose banner is that one?"
Panaka took a step toward it, studying it. It was brilliant scarlet. No flowers or growing things or anything superfluous adorned it. The lines were sharp, stark. Like they had been carved by a knife. There was a pale white ourobouros twisting on it in an attitude of agony as a black equis trampled it.
"That is the crest of the Palpatine family."
Sabe said nothing. She heard her own heartbeat in her ears as a dull pulsatile roar.
"It's a ridiculous inscription," Panaka said, smiling. "I'm sure the Supreme Chancellor regards it as quite the joke."
"Tell me," Sabe said haltingly.
Panaka glanced at her, his brow furrowing at her strange manner. "Sideous von falcos. Loosely translated from old Nubian, it means 'Might makes Right.'"
