THE EARLY DAYS DUET:

BOOK TWO: THE WILL OF THE FORCE

Chapter One – Courtly Disorder


30 BBY

Theed Palace, Naboo: Handmaiden's Chambers

"Sabé. Wake up."

I stirred from sleep, bleary-eyed and disoriented as my mind shifted back into lucidity.

"What is it?" I mumbled, raising a hand to the back of my head. I could already feel a headache begin to thrum mercilessly into existence. The cogs of my mind churned while I reoriented back into consciousness. I was in bed, snug under covers. No blazing fires, no warzones. No death or danger. It was just another terrible dream.

"The Queen requires your presence." The voice that woke me was Saché. Her tone was hushed and soothing. I blinked my eyes into focus as I looked back at my colleague.

"At this hour?" I groaned.

"I'm afraid so. Get up, sleepyhead."

Feeling a little more awake, I finally recalled why I was being summoned. Heaving a sigh, I sat up in bed and disentangled myself, removing bed sheets and resituating the gold chain of my necklace. The blood-red gem felt warm against my skin, and I was reminded briefly of the final image in my passing dream. The recollection stirred a fresh wave of uneasiness inside me. Rather than giving it any merit, I tucked the feeling away and did likewise with the Zenda stone. Out of sight and out of mind. I was no stranger to unsettling dreams. They had been my frequent companion ever since I first became a handmaiden all those years ago.

"Is she in her quarters?" I asked Saché while she donned me in a blue silk robe.

"Yes," she replied, ushering me to the door that adjoined the handmaiden's chamber to the Queen's private quarters.

I was too tired to pay any mind to my surroundings. I felt like I was swimming in syrup, groggy with sleep, and jaded with having to work so early in the morning.

Padmé was already dressed and ready to face the day. She wore a simple brown leather smock, braced with a green waistband. Her dark grey pants billowed freely from her calves to her ankles, permitting a subtle flair of femininity to the otherwise bland attire. She was in the midst of plaiting her hair into a series of long braids as I passed her.

"Morning, Padmé," I said, plopping myself onto the seat that faced her vanity. I couldn't be bothered to pretend that I was excited to play my part.

"Good morning, Sabé," Padmé replied casually. If she detected my apathy, she pretended not to notice. There had been a lot of that going on lately.

Saché had already set to work in turning me into an ornamental spectacle. I stared vacantly at the mirror for the entire process, unaffected by the tugging of the comb against my tangled brown hair.

It had been two standard years since Naboo had been held captive by the Trade Federation. Two years since I played the part of a lifetime and in doing so contributed to the salvation of our people. But it didn't take long for the euphoria of our liberation to transform into lethargy. The planet's global security had become a newly accepted configuration of our society, and we were now at peace with the amphibious Gungan warriors that were native to the planet. We had every reason to feel comfortable with our new protective assets.

With so much extra security encompassing our people and monarch, my role as the decoy queen had quickly become taken for granted. Not deliberately, of course. But my capabilities ensured Padmé to be able to get more work done in a faster span of time. Now, more often than not, whenever I was needed, it was to keep her throne warm while she traipsed around the world to negotiate matters with allies or to resolve civil disputes in Naboo's various cities. I was no longer protecting her in the way that I had been trained to do. And I had long since given up arguing with Padmé about it. The fact remained that she'd be less likely to be in danger when she wasn't under the guise of royalty.

In many ways, the Amidala persona felt like a separate entity all her own…She was a costume that Padmé and I could don interchangeably—and sometimes simultaneously. She was a figurehead, a symbol, an affecter of change. Padmé and I merely served as her mouthpiece.

And I had grown sick of it.

I was ordained to protect and serve. That was the mantra of my sisterhood, the Order of Sanctuary. But instead of protecting, serving seemed to be bearing most of the weight for the past two years. More often than not, I stood solitary in the role of queen while Padmé found other means to keep herself preoccupied. She was too busy to be left alone with her thoughts, and conversely, I was thereby cursed with the role of having nothing but my thoughts…I felt that my stronger skills were at risk of fading behind the growing barrier that was encompassed by my constant charade. I was no longer the protector that I was meant to be.

"Who will be escorting you this time?" I asked Padmé, still immobile while Saché worked on my hair.

"Dané and her team from the Naboo Underground will oversee security," Padmé said. "Beyond that, the Jedi Council was also kind enough to send a Jedi ambassador to help establish settlement on Ohma-D'un."

"Did they specify who that might be?" I asked the question before I could stop myself. Padmé probably knew all too well who had crossed my mind at the mention of the Jedi.

"They didn't say," Padmé said with a mild sigh. "But I imagine they'd send someone who had some background knowledge in Gungan culture. I was told I would meet them on the moon's landing bay."

"I suppose you should get going, then," I replied, casting my eyes her direction. "You wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting."

"I'm just about ready," Padmé assured me, tying her braids into a consolidated knot. Then she reached into the drawer of one of her ebony dressers and pulled out a small, handcrafted necklace: A simple charm made of ivory wood and attached to a leather strap.

I had seen the object many times before. Padmé insisted that she wore it for good luck. But I knew that she wore it as a remembrance of her time on Tatooine when we narrowly escaped imprisonment on Naboo. The memories of that voyage were impossible to forget, even for me. The boy who had crafted that necklace for Padmé had single handedly saved our planet. Beyond that, I was certain that Padmé wore the talisman as a reminder that her friendship with young Anakin Skywalker had been the solace that kept her going during our time of tribulation, much the same way that Obi-Wan Kenobi had been for me.

Unlike Padmé, however, I did not receive a keepsake from Obi-Wan upon his departure. Instead, I kept a small green quoit ball that I had childishly memorialized and kept in a jewelry box under my bed. The memories that attached to the object were among my most precious and painful.

"All set," Padmé said at last. "Panaka will be seeing me off in the hangar, making sure my presence remains undetected," she said. "Stay in here until he notifies you that I've left Theed."

I rolled my eyes. "I know the drill by now, Padmé. Go relocate Gungans already." I had intended to sound playful, but my mood didn't match my tone, and the overall vibe came out as sarcastic instead.

"All right," Padmé lifted her hands in mock surrender. "I'm leaving, then. I'll be back later today."

"We'll be here," I assured her.

This response seemed to satisfy her. So she left.

As of late, the Gungans had been having an overpopulation problem. Naboo had more land than water. Gungans were predominantly water-dwelling creatures, and their mortality rate was increasing faster than their confined territories could contain. So a repopulation solution had been presented, and the votes were overwhelming in assent for the project. The Gungans simply needed to be transported from Naboo to our water moon Ohma-D'un. The humans of Naboo had the resources to make that happen, but it was still a politically tenuous move. Padmé insisted on being present to avoid any potential calamities. Our alliance with the Gungans was still a new one, and prohibiting xenophobia was still a reality that needed to be handled with tact and care.

So while Padmé went off to do her diplomatic duty, I would now be confined to the throne room, listening to Governer Bibble prattle on about his opinions regarding various matters of state. The very thought of having to sit through another meeting with the Advisory Council made me just want to go back and hide under the covers of my bed.

Saché had moved on to my face, dabbing white paint along every square inch. I resigned myself to the application. I could already feel myself fading away as the stoic face of Amidala began to emerge.


Later

Theed Palace: Throne Room

I was seated amidst a throng of superficial politicians…Chief among them was Kyu Tane, the tall and angular minister of culture; Lufta Shif, the graceful and imposing regent of education; and of course, the peach-faced, talkative governor of Theed: Sio Bibble. The monologues of governor Bibble were as unbearable as they had always been. He meant well, but most of the discourse centered on trivial matters that grossly paled in comparison to the other matters we could have been discussing.

Luckily, being bored had its advantages for me. For starters, being bored I was better able to replicate the monotonous intonation of Amidala without letting my own personality slip through the cracks. Padmé and I looked so similar to each other that even the Advisory Council struggled to tell us apart. My handmaiden counterparts, however, always knew better. Rabé and Yané were seated at my either side, focused intently on the progression of the discourse. They, like me, were silent observers and loyal protectors, hidden beneath cowls and facades.

"The peace treaty with the Gungans is undergoing its fifth amendment protocol," Governor Sio Bibble cautioned. "Enacting mass relocation while the treaty undergoes modifications may pose as a sign of discrimination against the Gungans."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. We had long since exhausted this conversation, but Bibble was insistent on vocalizing his dissatisfaction with our initiative. "A delegate has already been forwarded to the premises on Ohma-D'Un to provide mediation if the need arises," I assured him. "The Gungans have expressed a need, and it is our duty to ensure that those needs are met."

"I don't deny the integrity of our solution," Bibble defended. "But the timing in which we set out to provide aid risks becoming misconstrued by the general public." His chin clenched indignantly, lifting the shrub of his angular white beard.

"And that is why the noble members of this advisory council are to help ensure that our intentions remain unmarred by ambiguity," I retaliated coolly. "Public proceedings must reinforce the desire to maintain peace and prosperity."

It was jargon. All of it. I had heard these debates countless times over the past few years. Even in a time of peace, politicians were restless to find controversies to keep their jobs interesting. It had become a tired old game, and I had grown unnervingly comfortable in being a placeholder for Padmé during these modes of discussion.

"I recommend that we provide the Gungans with a political voice of their own," offered Senator Horace Vancil. He was communing with us via hologram while in his office at Coruscant.

Vancil was the third senator to represent Naboo since the Invasion. After Palpatine had been elected as the Supreme Chancellor, he was replaced by Janus Greejatus, whose discriminatory leanings resulted in a premature expulsion after two years of service. Vancil was originally a member of the Royal Advisory Council and Padmé had often sought his services for political and economic insight. Due to this, she nominated him as Greejatus' replacement. Vancil's election had taken place about three standard months ago, but he was already making valuable contributions as our representative to the Galactic Republic.

I cast my eyes at the older gentleman. His hue was a faded blue; static and grainy due to the nature of holographic transmissions, but I could see the kindness of his face with perfect clarity. He was sitting comfortably on his office chair at Coruscant, with his hands folded over his stomach. His dark overcoat fell dramatically along the sides of the chair. While his outfit was stiff, his demeanor was kind and contemplative. I was grateful for his apparent sentiment. The Advisory Council had been sorely lacking that quality ever since his departure.

"Explain," I entreated the senator.

Horace leaned forward in his seat, eager to take the floor. "The Gungans have been relatively contained within their own cultural domain," he prefaced. "But they presently have no representation in the Galactic Senate. It is my belief that opening that possibility for them will reinforce the validity of our allegiance. Furthermore, it will ensure autonomy within their own political regime."

"A planet cannot have more than one senator," Sio Bibble contradicted, not unkindly.

Kyu Tane spoke up. His voice was as thin and weak as his scrawny figure. "But we are within our bounds to have multiple representatives to contribute to influencing fairness in votes. It would be a credit to our sovereignty to engage in equity between our intra-planetary societies."

Vancil agreed. "And now that many Gungans are resituating on one of our unoccupied water moons that is all the more reason to invite them into Galactic representation."

"Submit a query to the Gungan High Council," I said to Horace Vancil. "Their response will indicate if it is a viable course of action."

This was a common strategy for me: deflecting my "executive power" until Padmé would be able to not only voice the full extent of her opinion, but also carry out whatever decrees she needed to implement in the process. It was a stalling technique, and I had mastered it into an art form.

Vancil nodded graciously. "It shall be done, Your Majesty. I will keep you informed of—the process—reputation of—monarchy—…"

Vancil's hologram flickered into nonexistence. My stomach sank as though I had just swallowed heavy stones.

Rapidly, my brain starting cataloging possible reasons as to why Vancil had been cut off: Was the transmission weak? It couldn't be. Our range in the Chommell sector wasn't too far from Coruscant. But technical flukes weren't an impossibility. Were we being jammed? Last time that happened, our planet was under attack by the Trade Federation. I hoped that our comfort in tranquility hadn't once again blinded us from danger.

It turned out to be neither scenario. Vancil's hologram had been intercepted by another signal, and a new face emerged on the holographic screen in the center of the throne room. I was well practiced at masking my surprise, but nothing prepared me for the face that took over the hologram.

"This is Kasaré Veruna, former princess of Theed. I seek an audience with Queen Amidala. Alone. It is a matter of the upmost importance."

Captain Panaka gave a sharp look at one of the security technicians. The younger man shrugged helplessly back at Panaka, unable to mask his bemusement as he toggled with the control panel.

"I've overridden Senator Vancil's signal," Kasaré said. "You won't be able to track this transmission; nor can it be recorded."

Kasaré Veruna was the niece of Amidala's elected predecessor Ars Veruna. With her light blond hair, piercing eyes and dazzling spray of freckles, there was no denying that she was the spitting image of her uncle. After King Veruna's exile from office, Kasaré had appointed herself as a candidate for the crown as a political competitor to Padmé. During the early days of my service to Padmé, I had attended the election gala that took place right before the campaign's conclusion. That night, Kasaré had arranged for a bounty hunter named Zam Wesell to assassinate Padmé. Luckily, I had been able to impersonate Padmé during that time and successfully managed to prevent Zam from completing her mission.

Wesell had been arrested, and Kasaré was then exiled in the same way her uncle had been. She was stripped of her title and sentenced to house arrest for the remainder of her days. Shortly after her arrest, Zam Wesell also managed to escape from our prisons. The ease of her escape indicated another motive at play. But of course no further investigation was made after the incident, as everyone was far more preoccupied with handling the economic dispute that was taking place with the Trade Federation. To add insult to injury, Kasaré had also managed to escape amidst the chaos of Naboo's invasion and had since fallen off our radar.

Seeing Kasaré's face on the hologram made my head spin with the recollection of these past events. I wasn't quite sure how to conjure a proper response to her demand. Everyone in the Advisory Council was equally agog at the sight. For Kasaré to have the gall to make her presence known to the Queen was nothing short of shocking.

"What in the name of Shiraya gives you the audacity to make demands to the Queen?" Bibble spluttered, invoking the name of Amidala's patron goddess.

"I wish to hear what she has to say," I interjected stoically. My comment elicited astonishment from everyone in the room.

I knew what needed to be done. Kasaré was taking an enormous risk to project herself into our lives again. Whatever she had to say, it must have been exceedingly important, because it would inevitably cost her the luxury of her current freedom. The Royal Guard would hunt her down like sabercats as soon as Panaka gave them leave to do so.

"Your highness, the woman is a fugitive; and a dangerous one at that," Panaka reminded me gruffly. "Nothing she says can be trusted."

I flashed my eyes at him, releasing a hint of severity. "Do not attempt to dissuade me, captain," I rebuffed. Panaka had been the man who had sought me out and brought me to the Order of Sanctuary. He was the captain of the guard, my mentor, and in many ways, he was like a father figure to me. But I refused to be cowed by his superiority over me while I held the visage of the queen.

"This is absolutely appalling," Bibble said indignantly. "She can't possibly have anything to say that is worth our time."

I saw it differently. Listening to Kasaré was guaranteed to be a better use of my time than having to put up with any more of Bibble's petty opinionating. The collective disapproval had reached intolerable proportions.

"Then I will reprieve you of your time spent here, governor, and speak to Veruna alone," I said, lifting my chin authoritatively, daring him to challenge my command.

Bibble's face turned an angry shade of red, but in the company of others, he was trapped into submitting to my order. The rest of the Advisory Council took the hint and silently retreated from the room, bowing as they left. Bibble, flustered and aggravated, followed suit, but not without first imparting his last word on the subject: "Do not trust her," he said conspiratorially. "She's got the ilk of her uncle's influence."

"Your concern has been duly noted, governor." My royal voice was as cold and thin as ice. "Dismissed."

Bibble puffed out his chest in affront, and made his departure.

"You as well, captain," I said when I noticed Panaka hadn't moved.

He gave me a dour look. "Your highness, I don't think this is a good idea," he said through gritted teeth.

I inclined my head towards Rabé and Yané, who still sat diligently in their respective chairs. "My handmaidens will more than suffice for the private audience that Kasaré has requested."

Kasaré interjected "Actually, it is vital that I speak to Your Majesty alone."

I gave a pointed glare at the fugitive. "You will speak in the audience of myself and my counterparts or not at all," I said sternly.

Kasaré hesitated, eyed Rabé and Yané distrustfully, but then gave consent to my stipulation.

Panaka followed after the Advisory Council, scowling with every step. He wasn't happy, but was at least mollified by the compromise. I knew I'd get an earful from him when I resumed my role as handmaiden, which was nothing I wasn't used to by now.

I waited until the door sealed shut before engaging with Kasaré.

"Proceed." Best let her get this over with.

"I have called on you in an effort to clear my name. I am innocent of the wrongdoings that I have been accused of," Kasaré said assertively. "I have evidence that the integrity of the Naboo Security Forces has been compromised since well before your election."

"As I recall, Zam Wesell openly confessed the identity of her client." I retorted drily. "The transaction occurred through a hologram that was later pinpointed to your homing signal. We had all the proof we needed to incriminate you."

Kasaré shook her head insistently, "That's only the tip of the iceberg," she said. "Your Royal Guard conveniently neglected to investigate the matter any further. The communication device was mine, but I wasn't involved in the interaction with Wesell. During my exile I searched relentlessly for possible manipulations that may have corrupted the image of the hologram."

I withheld a scoff. That seemed unlikely. It was security protocol to scrub data to ensure the validity of the information. But I couldn't deny I was intrigued by what she may have uncovered. The fact that she managed to abscond with secured evidence was a testament of her hacking capabilities. Exile must have given her a little too much free time.

She continued: "I was unable to detect any artificial overlays. But this led me to the conclusion that I must have been betrayed by one of my own."

"What are you saying?"

"Impersonation, your highness," Kasaré said. "It is not an unlikely scenario given the nature of work that is appointed to a handmaiden."

I should have found the notion utterly ridiculous. As a member of the Order myself, I should have been offended, even outraged. But the accusation had plausible merit, and I found myself intrigued by the supposition.

But, as I was not myself in this scenario, I maintained a resolute skepticism to the situation. "As a former electoral candidate, you know all too well what training is involved for handmaidens assuming their roles," I replied. "The Order of Sanctuary prioritizes their recruitment search towards those with unwavering loyalty to their superiors."

"Which is precisely why I feel that perhaps the Order's motivations are not as honorable as it is claimed to be."

I straightened up in my seat. This was the boldest accusation she had thrown yet. "If you're implying treason—"

"I am," Kasaré was unflinching in her resolve. "My handmaidens had been appointed to me the same night as the election gala when the assassination occurred. And the date stamp on the hologram indicates that Zam Wesell was contacted two weeks prior to that."

The part about the handmaiden's date of employment I knew to be true. That night of the gala was also when I had been assigned to Padmé. That fact alone should have made Kasaré's theory of insubordination an impossibility. I wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"The only way one of my handmaidens could have gotten away with the con is if one of her superiors were involved in some way. It would have to be someone who knew she would be assigned to me—and may have even been the one to place her into my retinue in the first place."

"Such an accusation requires proof," I said. "And you wouldn't risk the suggestion unless you had something to back your case."

"The Order's information database is near impossible to hack into, and even more difficult to decrypt." Kasaré admitted. "But I did manage to uncover a list of names attached to the inner sanctum of the Order."

Kasaré's face was replaced by a window of encrypted information, and was then zoomed in on the list of names she referred to.

I couldn't deny that I was supremely interested in seeing this information. The overseers of our Order had always been under complete anonymity.

"Many of the names listed here are members of your Advisory Council," Kasaré said. "And all of them had access to the handmaiden assignment charts. Based on these records, the only two accounts that had been manipulated repeatedly were for two political candidates, namely myself and Your Majesty's."

"What information was modified?" I asked, beginning to feel apprehension slip through my queenly resolve.

"I'm still trying find that out," Kasaré said. "But it's a place to start. If I could, I'd question my former handmaidens as well as the key members of your Advisory Council. But I can't come your way without being arrested. I need your help in this, Amidala."

"And why should I trust you?"

"I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to find answers. Until the truth is uncovered, we won't know who to trust. And until then your life will continue to be in danger."