Prolouge
Not all Royal Handmaidens were reared for life in court. Both tradition and wisdom held that these special assistants to the Royal house be chosen from all walks of life, encompassing a broad range of talent. Those chosen who had not grown up in the aristocracy were trained in the appropriate mannerisms and rituals of court life.
At once elegant, refined, and discreet, the handmaidens served their queens and princesses with poise, and dignity. In Amidala's throne room they sat, a class all their own, in places distinct yet unobtrusive. They watched with open eyes and ears, cataloguing everything that took place. Each in her seat bore herself like an echo of the queen herself: timeless, regal, and observant. The handmaidens were well trained. One, however, had never required training to begin with.
Princess Sabé Naberrie, face hidden in the shadow of her yellow cowl, kept her features properly impassive. Though her heart was bursting with pride, she did not let it show. Arms draped gracefully on the sides of her chair, head held high, she sat as straight and tall as her small stature would allow. The pose required no concentration on her part. She had been born a Royal Princess of Naboo, and had been sitting like this since the time she had understood speech.
In a different world, it might well have been her sitting on the throne. But this was not such a world, and neither would she wish it so. The people had chosen correctly. Her twin sister was clearly far more capable as an executive leader than Sabé. The Naboo were very wise to have perceived this.
Although the law of the Naboo outlined clearly that any citizen twelve years of age or older was eligible to run for the monarchy, the Naberrie dynasty had now lasted nearly three hundred years. There were minor factions, of course, that opposed such a long-lasting influence, but their small numbers had never really made much of an impact. This was attributable to the fact that the Naberries, with a few exceptions, had nearly always lived up to the faith granted them by their steadfast people.
And now Padmé has done it again, Sabé reflected. Perhaps more greatly than any before her.
No, she realized, she did not envy her sister. Not in the slightest. She could imagine the terrible weight of doubt and indecision that must have pulled at the Queen all these past few months. Sabé did not feel capable of withstanding so much pressure. Padmé had made some hard decisions, and sacrificed much, but she had neither forgotten nor betrayed her people, and that was everything. Yes, perhaps the Great Time of Peace is finally over, Sabé thought as she watched the scene before her eyes. But peace comes in many visages.
Walking slowly and regally across the cool inlaid marble of the throne room floor towards the queen was a proud Gungan ambassador. Sabé had been learning much about Gungans lately. A subject in which she was, for once, just as ignorant as all her fellow handmaidens. This Gungan was slim like Jar-Jar Binks and Captain Tarpals, but her rubbery skin was a mottled blend of gray and cream, with tinges of blue in the creases around her eyes and hands. Sabé thought that perhaps this Gungan was considered a beauty among her own people; her coloring was very handsome in Sabé's eyes. But of course she did not know for certain. There was so much that nobody knew about the very people with whom they shared this beautiful world.
Thanks to Amidala, or Padmé, as Sabé knew her, they would now have the opportunity to learn. And friendships would be forged that should have been made long ago. Pride had been left too long unchecked, and now the Naboo and Gungan both would learn humility and respect.
Kessa Shanbo, as the Gungan was named, had come to Theed to be the first Ambassador to the Naboo. She would live in the city, in a special Embassy for which even now the plans were being drawn. It would be along the river, near the water the Gungan people loved so dearly.
Sabé could no longer prevent a huge grin of pride to escape onto her features, and she was glad that everyone's attention was too captivated for anyone to notice. Everyone except Rabé of course, who somehow managed to catch Sabé's eye and raise a bemused eyebrow. Sabé rolled her eyes slightly and turned her attention back to the ceremony, not wanting to miss a moment.
Kessa Shanbo had reached the dias and was bowing respectfully at the waist in homage to the Queen. Soon the first formal treaties of peace would be brought forth and signed as a lasting covenant between the two great races. What a triumph! The Trade Federation had sought to bring this world to its knees, but through the trial it had emerged even stronger than before.
So much has changed, she thought. So many of us have changed, and myself most of all, I think. She had been to strange and exciting places. She had witnessed many ground-breaking moments, and made dear and long-lasting friends.
It was such a story, and it began quite some time before Amidala even sat upon her throne…
~*~*~*~*~*~
Part One
Nine months earlier
Princess Sabé stood defiantly outside an ornately decorated door. On the other side of the door was her mother, Queen Leiandra Naberrie of the Naboo. In this room the Queen conducted her day-to-day business affairs. Often times, these duties included dealing with her four children.
Sabé wore a flowing gown of sky-blue, a long silver sash wrapped decoratively around the waist in a complicated criss-cross pattern. Long, shining dark hair was pulled back up high off her face and bound in a roped braid that fell all the way down her back. Silver jewelry in delicate filigree decorated her her neck and wrists. The effect would have been altogether lovely, had it not been for the sour expression on her face. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, and her dark eyes were narrowed and smoldering.
"I don't know where you get your stubbornness from, maati," came a warm tenor voice from behind her. Her father was walking almost casually up the corridor towards her. Armand Maoline, the Prince Consort of Naboo, was not a tall man. But he nevertheless exuded a quiet air of confidence and command. He stopped next to Sabé, and rested his hand on the latch of the door as he looked at her.
Sabé snorted softly. "Why from my mother of course," she replied tartly.
"You don't even know why you're in trouble, do you?" he asked. A hint of bemused condescension teased in his tone, and Sabé's eyes flashed dangerously. She did not reply. Her father gave her a meaningful glance, and reached out and squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. "Your mother and I will see you shortly." He opened the door a small crack and slipped through.
A loud sigh escaped her lips as the door clicked shut again behind him. She was tempted to pace, but held her feet still; she was too proud to make such a weak display of anxiety. So she stood and waited, staring straight ahead and focusing her eyes on nothing at all.
At long last, the door opened again. "The Queen will see you now, Princess," said the herald quietly. Sabé gave him a look of derision as she passed through the door. Immediately she regretted such a childish act. She couldn't fault the poor man for doing his job, after all. But when Sabé was angry it seemed to her as if the whole world took the side of the Queen. Except perhaps Padmé, who was adept at remaining neutral.
The antechamber of the Queen's throne room was one of Sabé's favorite rooms in the palace. It shared the same tall windows as its neighbor, but was cozier by far. Bookshelves were tastefully placed against the walls, and two chairs sat before the desk of the Queen.
Winter morning sunlight streamed in through the windows, belying the chill in the air outside. Queen Leiandra sat at her desk signing a stack of documents. She did not look up as Sabé approached her. Prince Armand stood calmly behind his wife, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Sit down," commanded the Queen. Her tone was quiet, but unyielding. Sabé sat. She noted that the chairs provided were just uncomfortable enough so that a person sitting in them would not be quite able to fully relax. Not that anyone would be able to, if facing Sabé's mother as she was now.
Sabé kept her face stony, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to be patient. They were playing a game, she knew. Leiandra was testing Sabé, to see how long she could hold her temper. Sabé was determined to win.
Sitting next to the window was her mother's chief handmaiden, Eullie Thwain, who also happened to be Sabé's etiquette instructor. Eullie had been a nursemaid to all four of the Naberrie children growing up. She was nearly as stern as their mother. Eullie did not look pleased.
At long last, the stack of papers reached its end, and an assistant gathered them up deftly and practically fled the room, giving a short bow as he did so. Sabé did not blame him. Were she in his shoes, she would flee as well. As it was, she would have to sit it out.
Leiandra laid down her pen and folded her hands upon the desk, finally raising her gaze to look regally upon her daughter. "We received an interesting visit this morning," her mother began. Sabé winced. The use of the Royal 'we' was not a good sign. Since her father had still been returning from Keren until the past hour, Sabé knew that Leiandra was not referring to herself and her husband collectively. "A visit," continued her mother, "from one Ard Nenshall."
Sabé's blood seemed to both freeze and drain from her face in the same moment. She concentrated on keeping emotion from her features, but her knuckles were white as she clenched the armrests of her chair. She could not think of anything to say, so she waited for her mother to continue.
"It seems our Princess Sabé has grossly offended the son of Master Nenshall, who was a tutor for her Royal Higness until yesterday." Sabé wondered idly how Baird's father had learned what had happened. Or rather, who had been the one to tell him. Her actions had not exactly been discreet, but Baird was much too reserved to have tattled on her. It had to have reached his father by some other means.
The Queen stood up, and turned her back on Sabé, gazing out the window as she spoke. "You cannot get by with sitting in silence forever, Sabé," she said. "Tell me what happened."
A smart retort died halfway in Sabé's mouth as her father caught her eye and shook his head very slightly. This was no light matter. She pursed her lips. Perhaps it was time to concede a little. Truth be told, the story was rather an embarrassing one. She suspected her mother knew this very well, which was why Sabé was being forced to repeat it aloud.
She searched vainly for a glossy way to begin, but came up with nothing. In that case, she decided, best to get it over with as soon as possible. "Master Nenshall," she began stiffly, "the younger, that is, was my civics tutor. I have in recent months come to very much…" she hesitated, trying to choose the best word, "…admire him." A hint of pink tinged her cheeks, and she rushed on, knowing that her father was already laughing behind his regulated features. "Knowing yesterday was his last day of employ here at the palace, I took the opportunity to ask him if he would be my escort at Banquet this evening."
"And did he take your full meaning?" the Queen prompted.
"Yes."
"And then what happened?"
"I…," she swallowed, "that is, he politely turned me down." Her voice trailed off as she spoke, making the last words come out as a mumble, and she averted her eyes.
"Ah yes, interesting choice of words," Leiandra commented. "He politely turned you down, you say? And how did you then behave?"
The pink spots in Sabé's cheeks became flames. She stared at the floor as she spoke. Each word was torture. "I got angry at him," she said. "I raised my voice. I called him a ruffian and smashed his datapad. Then I slapped him and walked away."
The antechamber was filled with cold silence for many long moments. Finally, the Queen turned from the window. "Is this how a Princess of Theed behaves?" she demanded. Her voice was steel. "I should not have expected this of you, Sabé. I am most seriously displeased." Leiandra was steadily becoming more mother than queen. She had dropped all pretense of royal address now. "What can you possibly have to say for yourself?"
"Nothing, madam," said Sabé through teeth that were once again gritted.
"I should imagine not. Your behavior was irresponsible, childish, and not to mention the most selfish thing I've heard in many years."
"I'm not the selfish one!" Sabé burst out angrily. "He was the one who strung me along. Always smiling at me and talking to me and singling me out. What was I supposed to think? Lousy boor," she spat.
"Sabé Vána," her father said sharply, in warning.
"Oh I don't know," Leiandra said sarcastically. "The thought might have crossed your mind that he was simply being courteous to you out of respect for your position. As for singling you out, I don't suppose you thought that maybe the fact that he was supposed to be tutoring you in Civics had something to do with it!"
Sabé bit her lip, suddenly shamed. When her mother put it that way, it did seem foolish of her to have been so blindly confident in her own presumptions. She sighed and looked away.
Leiandra echoed her daughter's sigh. Then she walked over to Sabé and raised her chin, meeting her eyes. "Oh my girl," she said, her voice now much sadder and softer. "I love you very much, but you must realize that being a Princess does not give everything over to your disposal. It might be an overused saying, my dear, but believe it or not, the world does not revolve around you."
This quiet chiding made Sabé feel sullen again. She swallowed and made no comment. Leiandra sighed again and walked over to her desk. "Your father and I have agreed to send you to Oxon tomorrow. You will be offering your assistance on the plantation at Naestral's Grove. With the spring approaching, they will be preparing for the annual groundbreaking. It will be good for you to get away from palace life for awhile."
"But what about the Mai Alai festival?!" Sabé protested.
"They celebrate Mai Alai in Oxon," answered the Queen swiftly, using a tone of voice that warned against any further objections.
Leiandra looked up and noted the crestfallen look on her daughter's face. Then, for the first time since the interview had begun, the Queen of the Naboo smiled, her eyes displaying the warmth and good humor that held fast the loyalty of her people. She exchanged smiles with her husband and walked back to her daughter, wrapping her in an embrace. "Don't take it too personally Sabé," she said. "You would have gone away at some point anyway. You know that. Now is just as good a time as any."
Sabé nodded. "Yes mama," she said with a shaky breath.
"Now I want you to go shopping for a new datapad to replace the one you robbed Master Nenshall of. Preferably one that will be an improvement for him. I won't make you visit him, although I should, but I do want you to write a formal apology and send it today with the datapad. After that you may do what you like until the banquet."
Sabé turned to leave, relieved to finally be free. As she reached for the handle of the door, her mother called, "Oh, and Sabé?" Sabé looked back over her shoulder. Her mother smiled. "Happy birthday."
Sabé finally managed a smile of her own. "Thanks, mama."
*~*~*~*~*~
I am fourteen years old today. Fourteen, and so is Padmé. Despite the lingering effects of her bad mood, Sabé could not help but feel satisfied at the thought. She'd always been eager to be grown up. Her thirteenth birthday had been a milestone, and the fourteenth promised to be even more fulfilling.
If only Baird Nenshall had accepted her offer of being an escort, she would have been perfectly content in looking forward to this evening. Her pride had been gravely wounded when he had turned her down. Even his mortification and flustered apologies had been little comfort. He hadn't meant to give her any false impressions, he'd said. He was flattered by her offer but he was already seeing someone. No doubt she's tall, blond, and eighteen, Sabé thought with a scowl. She paused next to a tall window and studied her faint reflection. Gods, but she hated being so short! She turned away from her reflection and continued down the corridor.
Sabé's musings were presently interrupted by a short flash of white and blue that dashed out from the nearest pillar and plowed headlong straight into her. "Ooomph!" she cried, and then reached down to peel away a small pair of arms that were clasped tightly around her. "Good morning, Richard," she said blandly.
Eight-year-old Prince Richard Naberrie grinned up at his middle sister brightly. "Mornin!" he replied cheerfully. "We've been waiting for you for a long time!"
"A whole fifteen minutes," came another voice with a laugh. Sabé's younger sister Claria was also stepping out from behind the pillar. "Sabé, did you really smash Master Nenshall's datapad?"
"And good morning to Claria too," said Sabé wryly, still trying to detach Richard from her lower body. "Who told you?" she added, rolling her eyes.
At this, Richard found incentive to finally pull away from her, still grinning. "Rabé told us," he said gleefully.
"Awww Rabé, you snitch!" Sabé whined under her breath. As youngest handmaiden to the Queen, Rabé Voss had actually been present for the incident in question. She was only a year older than Sabé, and the two had become very close since the handmaiden's appointment. But Rabé had a weakness for spreading gossip. Sabé only hoped in this case that she had been able to restrain herself after divulging to the youngest members of the Royal family. In the end though, she realized, it was really made little difference. Rabé had not been the only witness. It had only been a matter of time.
Claria was giggling behind her hand. Sabé tried to favor her sister with a glare, but was eventually forced to give up a smile herself. It was difficult to stay angry when face to face with Claria's sunny personality, though Force knew that Sabé always tried. "Well," said Claria finally, "the worst is over." She indicated her head toward the direction of their mother's antechamber.
"Yes," Sabé emphatically agreed. The trio began walking towards the staircase at the end of the corridor, where Sabé had been heading before the interruption. Sabé amused herself by watching her brother. Despite being only eight years old, with all the excessive energy typically associated with that age, Richard was still a prince. His hands were clasped behind his back as they walked. His head was cocked proudly and he looked every inch a miniature version of his father. Sabé wondered if he was even aware he was doing it. Probably not, for he was always outwardly complaining about not getting to be like other boys.
"Where is Padmé?" Sabé asked as they descended the stairs to the second level of the palace.
Claria's eyes twinkled. "Studying," she replied.
"On her birthday?!" Sabé exclaimed. Then she shook her head sadly. "Perfect Padmé," she muttered.
Claria giggled again. "Yes, perfect Padmé."
"Well," said Sabé defiantly, squaring her shoulders, "you won't find me near a book today. Besides, I don't have that much of a choice." She laughed bitterly. "I get to go datapad shopping! What joy is mine."
She turned suddenly to her sister. "Hey, as long as I have to go out, we might as well make a real shopping day out of it. What do you think? Maybe we can sneak Rabé out of duty to come with us."
"Mmmn…" said Claria longingly, "I wish I could, but I have clavaria this afternoon."
"You can't skip clavaria for your sister's birthday?" Sabé asked grumpily.
"I like clavaria lessons," protested Claria stubbornly, and Sabé sighed.
"I'll go with you, Sabé," said Richard helpfully. He was hopping down two steps at a time, his small face intent on his task. "If you're getting Master Nenshall a new datapad, then I'd better make sure you get one that he can use to play Smashball 6000."
Sabé choked on a snort. "Do you mean so that Master Nenshall can play Smashball 6000 or so that you can play it on the way home in the speeder?"
Still three steps from the bottom, Richard drew himself up as tall as possible and put an indignant look on his face. "That's silly," he said. "It's rude to open a gift before you give it to someone."
"Sabé does it all the time," said Claria brightly.
Sabé scowled. "Only with music," she said defensively.
Richard jumped the last three stairs to the second level with a thud and turned triumphantly to face his sisters. "Master Nenshall likes holo-games," he said with a smirk. "He showed me all the hidden secrets for Bounty Hunter."
"Oh brother. Baird Nenshall would like something so juvenile as holo-games," said Sabé, sticking her nose pertly in the air with a sniff.
"That's funny," replied Claria, "at this time yesterday I'm sure it would have been one of his most charming traits."
"Oh who asked you anyway?"
Claria grinned.
Sabé reached out and scruffed her brother's hair. "Okay Richard, I guess it's me and you then. Let's go find Rabé, I need to give her piece of my mind anyway."
Sabé made sure that her formal apology was written before they set out on their shopping trip. It was a highly tedious and embarrassing task, and took quite a long time to write when one took into account its finished length. By the time she'd finished, Rabé was off duty and they headed out with Richard into the city proper of Theed.
Much of the afternoon's conversation centered around what Rabé called 'The Princess Spurned' scene from the previous day. "You know," said Rabé as they wandered among racks of brocade skirts, "the look on your face was really quite hilarious."
Sabé chose to ignore this. "Did you know he was seeing anyone?" she asked instead, staring at a heavy blue skirt without really seeing it.
Rabé walked around the rack and leaned in conspiratorially. "Not at the time," she said in a low voice. "But I have since managed to learn a few things."
"Oh, really?" replied Sabé eagerly. "Do please tell."
"You won't believe this," Rabé continued, then paused dramatically.
"Well?" Sabé prodded with a flash of annoyance. Rabé did love an audience.
"He's been dating Careyen for three months!"
Sabé gasped. "No way!"
"Yes way." Both girls jumped and looked down. Richard's face peeped up between them. His big brown eyes glittered proudly. "I saw them kissing in his office one day when I was early for my lesson."
"Richard!" Sabé whined annoyingly, "why didn't you tell us?"
Her brother gave her a withering look that was disturbingly condescending for someone so young. "First of all, how was I supposed to know you liked him? You never tell me anything. Plus, I wasn't about to torture poor Master Nenshall and Careyen by telling Rabé about it. The whole palace would have known by the time we all went to bed!" Richard jumped back slightly with a laugh to miss the light-hearted blow that the handmaiden aimed at his head. He held up an expensive-looking wrist chrono. "Can I buy this?"
"No," said Sabé sharply, snatching it out of his hand and laying it on a nearby table. "You're supposed to be looking for a birthday present for Padmé."
Her shopping spirits were now considerably dampened. Careyen was yet another of Leiandra's handmaidens, a gentle and sweet girl, and very pretty. Tall, blond, and eighteen, Sabé realized grumpily.
Rabé rolled her eyes. "Well I'm done shopping," she said. "You're in one of your moods again. Anyway," she paused and looked at her own wrist-chrono, "I've only got four hours left to do my hair for banquet. Let's get the datapad and go home."
Sabé nodded glumly, and tried to focus her attention on having a pleasant time. It would help if she could somehow take a good dose of Claria's personality. But she was Sabé, not Claria. It wasn't as if she wasn't well-accustomed to being cranky.
*~*~*~*~*~
Resplendent in white, Sabé stood in the center of the Grand Banquet Hall later that evening, waiting for Padmé and studying an elaborately woven tapestry which hung above the large double doors. The craftsmanship of the weaver was second to none, and the bright threads told one of the most famous legends in Naboo history.
Pictured in the tapestry were two figures, both female, standing in the winter's snow. The first was tall and regal. She wore white robes and no cloak, though she did have a small scarf and kerchief around her shoulders and over her dark hair. This was Elsinoré, the first Queen of Naboo.
The other figure was a small child, about Richard's age, gazing up at the woman in wonderment. Her small hand was extended to receive something from the Lady's hand, which appeared to be a brilliant white jewel. Sabé knew, however, that it was no jewel, but a representation of one of the planet's most cherished treasures, the Snow Star. As a member of the Royal family, Sabé had seen the Snow Star many times. In reality, it was only an old meteorite, and Sabé thought it quaint of everyone to make such a fuss over it. But even she had to admit it was breathtakingly beautiful, its natural shape like a piece of art lovingly crafted by knowledgeable hands.
The girl in the tapestry was called Alwé. An ancient figure of whom historical accounts varied, but one thing at least was known. She was the first Naberrie.
"That tapestry was woven by the sister of King Jubal for his coronation," said a quiet voice beside her. Sabé did not need to turn her head to know her mother was now standing next to her. "She wove it as a reminder. So that despite all our success and accomplishments, we would not forget where we came from."
Sabé nodded thoughtfully. A thoughtful gift, on many levels. Alwé the Matriarch had been from a family of poor weavers. Through both the weaving itself, and the story it represented, the tapestry was indeed a strong symbol of their house. Every year at Firstfall, the first week of winter, it was hung here in the banquet hall. When Mai Alai came and heralded the beginning of summer, the tapestry would be taken away again.
"Why do we still fawn over the Snow Star?" asked Sabé suddenly. "Does anyone really believe that the spirit of Queen Elisnoré visited a little girl? I mean, sure it's a lovely legend and strong tradition, but people behave as if they actually believe in such things. We're smart, we know better than that."
The queen was silent for a very long time, and when Sabé finally looked closely at her mother's face she was surprised to see mingled there a look of slight distress and sadness. "Do you no longer believe, Sabé Vana?" she asked quietly. "When you were little it was your favorite story."
"Exactly. My favorite story. I'm sure some of it has basis in fact, mother, but such things simply do not happen."
Leiandra reached over and pulled a straying hair back into place beneath Sabé's small crown. "My dear," she said awkwardly, "I am so proud of how well you do in school. Your intelligence and quick thinking are truly blessings for you, and they will take you a long way. But do not be blinded by your own knowledge. A wise person acknowledges the possibility that there will always be things beyond their understanding. Some things cannot be learned in a book, or mastered through study."
Sabé felt strangely lost as her mother spoke, as if Leiandra knew some great secret in which Sabé could not take part, because she, Sabé, was blocking her own way. Leiandra perhaps perceived this, because she smiled and continued. "I have read a little of the Jedi ways," she told Sabé. "You cannot explain the things they do with science, my dear. And yet their skills and way are accepted and admired. Think about it."
"The legend of the Snow Star speaks of a prophecy," said Sabé blandly.
Leiandra nodded. "Yes, it fortells of the savior of Naboo."
"But I do not believe in prophecies," insisted Sabé stubbornly.
Her mother smiled again. "I don't know what to say to you. Except that truth cannot be changed, whether it is believed or not. It simply is." She reached over and gently kissed Sabé on the forehead. "I believe it is time to receive guests. Your sister just came in." She began walking toward the head table leaving a confused and unsettled daughter in her wake.
Sabé's musings were interrupted by a soft tap on her shoulder. "Naboo calling Sabé," came a quiet teasing voice. She blinked and turned a smile on her twin sister, enveloping her in a huge hug.
"It's about time you showed up."
Padmé shrugged with a playful smile. "University entrance exams aren't very considerate when it comes to birthdays, I'm afraid. They demand just as much attention as on other days."
"So much needless stress," chided Sabé in a mocking voice. "When you could have graduated next year with all the rest of us and gone to the University then."
"You won't so cheerful next year when your turn to study rolls around."
Sabé snorted softly. "Don't be so sure. I almost envy you. While you go off to the halls of higher learning to be taught how to govern the whole of Naboo, I'll be in Oxon learning how to… plant plombs."
"They're already planted Sabé, you have to learn how to take care of them," Padmé teased.
"Oh whatever."
"Besides, you'll probably also being taught how to oversee the plantation. It's no small matter. Almost like a little world in itself."
"I know, Padmé," said Sabé in a voice of mock-exasperation.
"Besides, I'm sure you'll see lots of handsome, well-built farm workers while you're there. But none of them look like Baird Nenshall, so I doubt you'd notice." Padmé had to duck quickly with a laughing shriek as her sister lunged after her.
"Oh, now you've done it Padmé!" she called as Padmé dashed to the other side of the chamber, still laughing. "You can't run very far…"
"Girls!"
The twins both stopped and looked at their father, who had just walked in the room with Richard and Claria in tow. He looked highly amused but steadfast. "I thought you were turning fourteen, not eleven."
"Hey, I resent that, papa," Claria piped up as she walked gracefully over to her seat and pulled it away from the table.
"Forgive me my dear. I always forget that you are not already eighteen years old." Armand smiled fondly at his youngest daughter, who beamed proudly at his praise. "Now these two, on the other hand…" he laughed as he looked at the twins, shook his head and did not finish the statement. "But in all seriousness, it is time to put on our Royal faces. The guests are coming."
Padmé laughed sympathetically. Sabé knew that Padmé shared their father's distaste for certain aspects of political life, mostly centered around the many false fronts that people put on in social settings such as this. It pained Armand to have to share his daughters' birthday with political maneuvering.
Sabé herself did not mind as much as Padmé, even though Padmé was the better of the two at playing the games. But Sabé was fond of society, and deeply interested in its many comings and goings. Her trouble was not keeping herself detached enough to see beyond it sometimes. Her volatile temper wasn't much of help either.
The family took their places at the head table, with Padmé and Sabé sitting in the center as the guests of honor. When they were ready, the servants opened the doors and the herald announced the guests of the banquet as they entered.
Dinner was actually quite enjoyable. Despite the presence of so many people, Sabé got a chance to really sit and talk with her sister, something she hadn't had an opportunity to properly for several weeks. Their mutual lives kept getting busier and busier, and Sabé found this very lonely at times.
She felt a twinge of pained sadness of the thought of leaving Theed and leaving Padmé. Her twin was her anchor. Steady Padmé was able to keep wild Sabé in balance far more effectively than anything or anyone else, including their mother. What sort of disasters would she cause if left unchecked?
Late that evening, when the last guest had paid their respects, and Sabé's cheeks hurt from prolonged fake smiling, the family was finally alone again.
"And now presents for my twin flowers," said Prince Armand proudly as they sat down in a far more cozy sitting room. As he spoke, he pulled two boxes from behind his back and handed them to the girls. "From your mother and I. Happy birthday, girls."
Sabé accepted the gift eagerly. Her father was notoriously talented with gifts, and Claria's assistance over the years had made him even better.
She was perplexed, though, at the item that fell out of the box onto her lap. "What is it?" she asked, bewildered, as she picked it up.
"It's a seashell!" said Claria eagerly. "From Mon Calamari. Isn't it pretty?"
Sabé was fascinated in spite of herself. Naboo had no major oceans, and she had never seen anything like this. It was hard and strong, and yet graceful, with lines that made it appear delicate.
"Hold it to your ear," instructed Richard with a smile of anticipation. Curious, Sabé did so. She smiled when she noted the soft whisper of air that ran past her ear.
"It's the sound of the ocean," her brother said knowingly.
"Nonsense," said Sabé. "It's the sound of the air channeling through the shell to my ear."
Richard wrinkled his nose. "It sounds like the ocean to me."
"You've never heard the ocean before."
Leiandra chuckled. "Maybe someday soon."
"This is really beautiful," Sabé said to her parents. "Thank-you."
"You're welcome love," replied her mother.
"Okay Padmé, open yours," Prince Armand prompted.
Padmé's gift was also from off-world. It was an amazing stand-alone wood carving of a beautiful flower Sabé suddenly very much wished she could see in real life. The wood had been stained with various dyes, bringing hints of what the flower must look like.
"It's a syren flower," supplied Armand helpfully. "The carving is from Kashyyk. The syren is one of the most deadly plants in the whole of the galaxy. And as you can see one of the most beautiful as well. Much of the culture of the wookies centers around it."
"This is incredible," Padmé whispered in an amazed voice as she traced her finger along a wooden petal. "I bet Palo would like this."
Sabé rolled her eyes, and hoped Padmé didn't see. Palo was Padmé's artist friend. Sabé personally thought he was stuck-up and annoying, but then, the feeling was mutual on his part. She tried not to mention it that much though. She knew that Padmé had a huge crush on him, though he hardly deserved it.
"Well girls," said Leiandra, and Sabé was amused to see a very un-queenlike yawn escape her mother's lips, "we are very proud of you both, as is the case every year. But even proud mother's need to sleep. It has been a very long day."
Padmé laughed and got to her feet, carefully setting the syren carving on a nearby end table. "Goodnight, mama," she said, wrapping her arms around Leiandra. Sabé was quick to follow. She closed her eyes as she hugged her mother, breathing in the comforting scent she associated with love, security, and her entire childhood.
Goodnights were made among all the family members, and at long last Sabé was left alone in her bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what changes the coming year would bring.
~*~*~*~*~*~