I am writing this chronicle of my life as a
last request of my close friend Padmé Amidala Naberrie, former Queen of the
Naboo. I write this so that her unborn
twins, Luke and Leia Skywalker, may know someday of the legacy, which their
mother leaves behind. Since requesting
each of us to do this, Padmé has decided not to write one herself, a fact that
I record here with regret. She is one
of us. We are one. But I will, as always, respect her
wishes. I hope she will change her
mind.
My name is Sabé; I have no last name. I am twenty-six years of age. This is my life, such as it is.
I was born in a village on Naboo; my father
was dead before my birth, and my mother died having me. I was taken to an orphanage, then moved when
I was six to the Palace of Theed. I had
no idea then, but I was being
considered as a Princess of Theed. But
then a girl called Padmé Amidala came along, and was chosen instead of me. I held no grudges. I was the only girl tested for a handmaiden that knew beforehand
that she was being tested – and that she would become a handmaiden. For Panaka, the captain of the Royal guard,
had told me that I was similar enough in appearance to Amidala for me to be
pretty much guaranteed. Of course, as
young as I was, it didn't really matter to me.
But sure enough, six months or so later, I
found myself an official handmaiden to Princess Amidala of Theed. My co-handmaidens were named Saché, Yané,
Eirtaé and Rabé. We loved each other
like sisters, we truly did, and Padmé was one of us – not a princess, or a
queen, just one of the sisters.
I was used as her decoy in times of danger –
all of us were trained to do so, but Padmé and I were closest, and so found it
easier to switch. It didn't happen much
– but when it did, finally, seriously, neither of us had any idea of what the
situation would be.
The Trade Federation had put a trade boycott
on our planet of Naboo, and captured the Royal party – which obviously included
us, the handmaidens. Luckily the Jedi
Ambassadors showed up and rescued us. I
was dressed as Amidala at that time, and I wasn't a bit afraid. But when they tried to persuade me to leave
the planet, I had to turn to my 'handmaiden', Padmé, for help. I told the handmaidens that there would be
great danger. She replied that they
were brave, telling me what to do. I
agreed to leave, and Padmé, Saché and Eirtaé came with me. I hated to leave Rabé and Yané behind –
especially Rabé, she seemed so young sometimes – but it was necessary. I know they forgave me.
Once we were on the ship we were fired on by
the Trade Federation. Eirtaé was almost
desolate, leaving two of us on the planet, but Padmé managed to stop her from
feeling too bad, I think. Eirtaé has
acted like a mother to us all, being the oldest out of us. I acted as Queen then, gave agreement and
orders, and then I was free to be myself again with Saché and Eirtaé.
When we landed on Tatooine, Padmé went with
the elder Jedi to find parts. I was
left to be the Queen. Obi-Wan Kenobi,
Qui-Gon Jinn's apprentice, was left as our protector. Saché voiced doubts to me, but I brushed them off. I had seen a Jedi in action before when I
was at the Palace. We would be safe
with him, I felt sure.
And I was attracted to him. I won't deny it. In fact, I was so drawn to
him that later that evening I donned my handmaiden robes and left Saché to pose
as Queen, in case she was needed. I
told her Padmé's orders so that she wouldn't act differently from either of us. Then I went on a walk around the ship,
secretly hoping to meet the young Jedi. I admit this freely. I never
told it to Padmé, and she would be furious if I ever did. When she left me as Amidala, I was supposed
to stay Amidala until she returned. Even I break the rules sometimes.
I was right to follow my instincts. I was crouching down, looking at the wrecked
hyperdrive with my skilled mechanic's eye when I heard his voice behind me.
"Can I help you, handmaiden?" he asked
gently. I stood, dusting my hands
off. "No, thank you, Jedi Kenobi," I
nodded brusquely. "I was just taking a
look."
"You understand it?" Obi-Wan raised an
eyebrow. I was suddenly defensive,
fairly bristling with it. "Of
course. Our training doesn't just
consist of looking pretty, you know!" My outburst seemed to amuse him, which infuriated me even more.
"I never for one moment imagined it did," he
replied softly. Frustrated, I moved to
push past him, but he caught my wrist. "Please don't worry yourself, handmaiden. My master will get the parts we need."
"I have no doubt in your master," I replied
truthfully. "It is myself I
doubt." Having said enough, I walked
past him. Then he called out, asking my
name. I broke another rule. I told him. "Sabé."
I could almost see him smile, even though we
were facing in opposite directions. I
slipped out, satisfied with our meeting but worried at my new lack of concern
for the rules.
The next days slipped by. I saw Obi-Wan Kenobi but one more time, when
I was posing as Amidala. It scared me,
the sudden wealth of feeling I found that I had for this practically unknown
man who had suddenly burst into my life.
Then all of a sudden we were on
Coruscant. Padmé still remained a
handmaiden – now that Qui-Gon and Anakin knew her, it was almost dangerous not
to. But then we switched for her to talk
to Senator Palpatine. Looking back now,
I can see the signs. But even then, I
disliked the man. I couldn't afford to
show that dislike though. I was a
handmaiden. I was peace. I was watchfulness.
That was my motto, every day of my life as a
handmaiden. I hid my true nature from
my friends, you see. They saw me as a
calm, peaceful, loving girl. I was
really a firecracker – at least, that's what my carers at the orphanage had
said.
Padmé sent me on an errand, to fetch
something from the ship. Stupidly,
however, I lost my way. I ran into
Obi-Wan.
"Where are you going to, handmaiden Sabé?" he
asked, one eyebrow crookedly raised in query. I felt like rolling my eyes at him, but managed to refrain. "To fetch something from the ship," I
explained. "But I don't have a good
sense of direction. I don't suppose you
could show me the way?"
He looked at me with his unrevealing eyes,
and nodded. "It would be my pleasure,
handmaiden." "Call me Sabé," I told him
softly. "But don't tell anyone else –
I'm not really supposed to be an individual."
He made no reply to that – I was glad. No one really understood the life of a
handmaiden – or leigeman of course – unless they had been one themselves. It was a role shrouded with mystery and
insignificance.
He took me to the ship, and even waited
whilst I fetched the box that Padmé had required, walking me back to
Palpatine's quarters. At the door I
thanked him, and quickly, almost embarrassed, he kissed me quickly on the
lips. Then he walked away swiftly. I felt my lips with wonder, then remembered
my task and entered the quarters.
When Padmé went against the Senate, she was
incredible. I'll never forget it as
long as I live. She really is
fantastic, our Padmé. She doesn't even
realise how fantastic she is, I don't think. She even moved for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum. I personally think that was a mistake, but
she really carried it off well. It
wasn't one of her best gowns, but it made an impact. It was Saché and I that accompanied her – Eirtaé had yelled at us
and gone off for a walk just before we had to leave. I think she was angry that Padmé had lied to little Ani. She had to lie. We all understand why she had to. That doesn't make it right.
Then when we got back, Eirtaé was a
mess. She never actually said the words
to me, but she was in love with Qui-Gon Jinn. I couldn't lecture her. I was in
love with Obi-Wan Kenobi, after all. Then we returned to Naboo. Padmé
decided that she couldn't do anymore here on Coruscant, so we switched places
again and I, as Queen Amidala, boarded the Royal ship. The black headdress weighed heavily on my
head, feeling like the weight of all Padmé's people – of my people – feeling
like their suffering.
On that long journey, where I was both Sabé
and Amidala continually, my thoughts often returned to Naboo. I pictured Yané and tiny Rabé in a work camp
somewhere. I had to shake the visions
from my head, they were so distressing. Saché and Eirtaé looked at me oddly several times. Padmé merely understood. She felt the same.
Things went pretty quickly from then on. Once we had found the Gungans in the swamps,
Padmé came forward, revealing herself as Amidala. I could feel Obi-Wan's surprise, even though we were not
connected. It was surprising to me as
well – but that she would do such a thing, not that Padmé was Amidala.
Then we retook the Palace. Yané and Rabé were freed, and we all went
back up to the throne room. We arrived
just as Eirtaé ran, loosing her composure in a way that no handmaiden ever
should. We followed her down to the
main energy core, and found her and Obi-Wan hugging his dead master to
them. Saché and Padmé took Eirtaé away
to our rooms. The medics moved Qui-Gon
Jinn to the infirmary's morgue. I
watched Yané and Rabé stand there, not understanding why Eirtaé had broken down
lie that, and I looked at Obi-Wan and understood.
I moved softly to him and took him in my
arms. He followed blindly as I led him
out of there, up into my favourite place in the Palace, the cool inner
garden. I sat him down on the grass,
and he rested him head in my lap and wept. I remained silent, knowing that the young Jedi needed this. Finally his face dried, and he sat up.
"Thank you, Sabé," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to…" I put my finger to his lips and shushed
him. "Yes you did," I told him. "There's no harm in mourning, Obi-Wan
Kenobi." He nodded, looking like a lost
little boy, and I hugged him close. I
knew that Padmé would ensure that we were not disturbed, and Obi-Wan needed
this.
He shifted in my arms, and without warning I
found his lips on mine. They were wet
with salt tears, and warm. I
practically melted into his arms. I
knew, somewhere in my mind, that Obi-Wan was just clinging to the nearest
loving person, but my heart would not let me act on that thought. My heart was just filling with love for this
man.
Finally he drew back, and I looked at him
with scared eyes. A few wisps of hair
had fallen from the headdress that I still wore. I had been 'Amidala', after all, when we had stormed the
Palace. Smiling slightly, Obi-Wan
gestured to the wardress.
"So, you do this a lot?" he asked
lightly. I blushed – not that he could
see it through the makeup. "I shouldn't
tell you," I replied softly. "I am a
handmaiden, after all. I'm sworn to
secrecy." He shrugged, remarking that I
needn't tell him. I could see that he
was still close to breaking, though, so I told him. That was the third rule I broke.
"Yes," I said, in a voice so low I wasn't
certain he'd hear it. "I was acting as
a decoy for Padmé almost all the time since I met you. Not on Coruscant, except when we arrived and
left. But on Tatooine, and Naboo." He looked at me, perhaps understanding the
sacrifice that I had probably made in telling him that. His fingertips trailed lightly over my face,
and my lips parted slightly. Then he
stood and left, to contact the Jedi Council. I stayed in the garden for a moment, then scrambled to my feet and went
to change into my softer handmaiden robe.
I saw him only twice before he left. He had been given the rank of Jedi Knight,
and taken Anakin as his apprentice. I
saw him the first time during the celebration of peace between Naboo and the
Gungan people. I never had anything
against them – and after knowing Jar Jar Binks, I couldn't help but be glad we
had peace. Padmé looked spectacular in
her white dress – it was a beautiful festival. But I couldn't help feeling sad. Soon afterwards, Obi-Wan Kenobi would leave.
I was fetching something for Padmé when he
found me, pulling me around a corner and into a storeroom. I gazed at him almost accusingly. I told him that I had to go, that I was on
an errand. He promised me that this
wouldn't take long.
Then he kissed me again, passionately,
leisurely. We stayed entwined for
minutes, and then he pulled away slightly and held up a ring. It was made of different coloured hair – I
easily recognised mine and Obi-Wan's, and I thought that the other was
Qui-Gon's. I looked up at him. "What is it?" I asked him softly. "Something to remember me by," he said
equally softly. He slid it onto the
middle finger of my right hand. I
looked at it almost reverently, then looked at him. "I don't need this to remember you by," I told him. "But I'll wear it until you return to claim
it." He smiled, and leant down to kiss
me just as I heard Saché hurrying down the corridor searching for me. I touched his face and left. Saché glanced form me to the rapidly
departing Obi-Wan, and smiled slightly.
I saw Obi-Wan but rarely in the years
following that. We went about our
duties, of course. Eirtaé had Qui-Gon's
child and left for a few years, but then she returned. Padmé was voted out, and we all moved to a
house in the country. I wasn't happy –
both Padmé and I had been raised for the political life, and we missed it
sorely. But I was content to stay, for
the moment. Obi-Wan and Anakin were
frequent visitors, and I grew to love Anakin like a brother. Yané and Rabé seemed to have found love in
each other – they never knew I knew, and I never said anything – and Saché met
a local man. Eirtaé, however, grew more
and more alone. Nobody pressed
her. We couldn't bear to see her in
more pain than she already was.
Then Padmé and I were asked to become
Senators for the Naboo. We couldn't
wait – we jumped at the chance, even though it would mean leaving our
'sisters'. We would be closer to our
loves as well, which was an added bonus. Eirtaé was almost devastated when we told her the news. But Padmé, as
always, calmed her down.
A few weeks before we left, we were all maids
of honour at Saché's wedding. So in a
way, the sisters were already splitting. So Padmé and I left, and returned to Coruscant.
Padmé and I never really shared with the
other girls our experiences on Coruscant. There was love, and for Padmé there was heartbreak. She married Anakin, in spite of knowing that
the Jedi feared the impulsive apprentice might turn to the Dark Side of the
Force – become a Sith. That was two
years after we arrived there. We
weren't really able to do any good in the Senate, so when our term expired, we
left. Padmé left first with
Anakin. I waited with Obi-Wan to be
married – and we were. It was the most
wonderful night of my life, the night we first made love. We neither of us were virgins, but it felt
so new.
So we returned to Naboo, and to our house in
the country. Many things had changed,
but our integral group was still there. We had happy days there until Tallé, Eirtaé's tiny, sweet daughter,
drowned on the lake.
Anakin was unable to save her. Looking back, I wonder if he meant to save
her. It destroyed Eirtaé – poor,
fragile Eirtaé tried to commit suicide that day. She was committed to a mental hospital indefinitely. She was let out only for her daughter's cremation,
and even then she was taken from Saché the moment we left the cremation
hall. It was a day that I have almost
forgotten. I have no wish to remember
it – it was cold, and miserable. It
rained when we cried, and the rain made us gloomy. I leant on Obi-Wan heavily then, and he, my gentle husband,
understood my grief. He understood that
I wept not just for Tallé, but for all of us. I wept for poor Eirtaé, sane but condemned to a mental hospital. I wept for Saché and her unborn child, and
for Yané and Rabé, both so loving and caring. I wept for Padmé and her twins, knowing that when Anakin turned – it was
no longer a question of if but when – he would destroy them. I wept for our group of sisters that had
somehow grown apart, and yet weren't apart ever. I wept for the tiny life in my womb that I hadn't told anyone
of. I wept for peace that I feared
would soon be destroyed.
I was right. Three months or so later, Anakin became Darth Vader. I didn't know what happened to Yané, Rabé,
Saché and Eirtaé then, Obi-Wan spirited Padmé and I away. Padmé was heartbroken, but she was still
strong. She showed her queen exterior
then most of all. She was proud, cool,
calm. We went to Tatooine. I told the other handmaidens that it was
best they didn't know where we were going, in case Vader came to them. I fear that it killed them.
We settled in on Tatooine. We lived a simple life, farming moisture
from the air. Obi-Wan's brother, Owen
Lars, wouldn't help us, but his wife Beru was very kind. We managed to live, which was the most
important thing.
Then Obi-Wan returned. He told us that Vader had killed Yané and
Eirtaé. Padmé almost fell apart at that
news. He said that Rabé and Saché were
still alive, but would probably spend the rest of their lives safe in Otoh
Gunga. He brought us their stories, the
ones they wrote as a companion to mine. I was saddened by the length of them – Yané's was so short. Eirtaé's was so long; she'd had more time,
being in a mental hospital. Rabé's was
short and sweet – she couldn't bear to write it in more detail, I suppose. Saché's was longer – she always was a
detailed writer. I didn't read them,
but I didn't need to, to know what they were like. I knew those girls. They
were my sisters. Two of them were killed
by the man I would have once been proud to call brother. Two others were forced into hiding by that
same man. Padmé, the beautiful,
passionate woman I loved, was almost destroyed by him. And I, peaceful Sabé – I became hard. Obi-Wan didn't leave again except when the
twins were born. Luke and Leia. Leia was taken to Bail Organa on
Alderaan. We knew she'd be safe there. Luke was given to the Lars'. He would be raised, and then taught by
Obi-Wan when the time came.
Padmé and I still live here, and probably
will till we die. Obi-Wan lives with
us, of course. There is no laughter in
our house, no smiles. We have heavy
hearts and saddened faces. I look no
more to the future or the past, only to the present. The present is all that matters now.
I hope this brings wisdom to the twins when
they are old enough to read this. I
hope that my child will grow up to know them. I hope – I hope lots of things. This is the most important thing I know.
My name is Sabé. I am twenty-six years old, a former handmaiden of Queen Padmé
Amidala of the Naboo. This was my story. Good luck, my children.