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"If you want to make peace with your enemy, you have to work with your enemy. Then he becomes your partner." -Nelson Mandela


Chapter 13 Introduction to the Palace

Sabe had been hired because of her looks. She had a cover, of course, but, as Panaka liked to remind her, plenty of other young women were perfectly capable of being a hostess. No, she was a handmaiden because she looked like the Queen, not for any skill of her own.

It wasn't a comforting thought.

She hated it, pretending to be Queen. If her acting failed, if someone found out, if she misread her cues and made the wrong choice, then her planet could literally be destroyed and it would be all her fault.

It wasn't something she had thought of before the Invasion. Being decoy had been abstract, a prank she could pull with her newfound friend. For star's sake, she had thought it would be fun. Now, she knew better and it haunted her, and unless she was throwing herself into her work, she could think of little else. Fortunately, she had a lot of work: attending meetings, organizing supplies, writing reports, reading reports, compiling reports, smoothing over tempers and incidents, and of course, playing hostess.

Still, she was good at her cover—being her father's hostess wasn't that different from being the Royal one.

Of course, being her father's hostess hadn't required security surveillance and threat assessments.

She turned the corner into a well lit gallery, soaking in the morning sunlight streaming into the room, her mind finally drifting to the problem at hand—what am I going to do with my guests today?

Her palace duties included keeping guests entertained and helping Anakin settle and acclimate to Naboo, her busy schedule had barely allowed her time to prepare their quarters; planning their itinerary had been at the bottom of her to do list. Until now, of course, when it abruptly shot to the top. She cursed herself for not dealing with it earlier, regretting that their first experience with Naboo hospitality would be so lacking.

Fortunately, some things were scheduled—Anakin's meetings with his new tutor, the diplomatic dinner in a few nights, the tour this morning. But that left a lot of down time.

What are they interested in?

Unlike most palace guests, who came with dossiers and files, the only info she had on these two were her observations from the night before and what she'd quizzed from Padme.

Anakin had proven last night what Padme had suggested before—he was a handful. Full of energy, demanding attention, curious, and somewhat lacking in social nicety. And there were other considerations: had any particular effects from his years in slavery manifested? How was he dealing with his mother's death? (Images of a child sobbing wildly and throwing himself tragically into her arms threaded through her mind for a second before she wryly shook off her own melodrama. No doubt a month and a bit, as well as Jedi wisdom, had dulled the pain; although he was undoubtedly still grieving, it was unlikely to be quite that dramatic.) But other than his mother's death, she knew little else about him except that he liked mechanics and podracing; had grown up on a desert planet; and had just spent a month on Coruscant.

She knew even less about Jedi Kenobi, though the lack of information wasn't nearly as pressing since the Jedi was an adult and a guest. Although she would extend the same hospitality, she wasn't expected to introduce him to an entirely new life.

'Jedi' indicated at least some level of maturity, which was a boon next to Anakin's overwhelming enthusiasm. He'd seemed so serious and stern when they'd been introduced en route to Tatooine, but that didn't really count: she had been Queen and he had been on a mission. Padme's reports had been positive, though vague: a sense of humor dryer than the planet they'd landed on; a bit of a gambler (who else would allow a child to build an essential ship's system from scratch?); and unfailingly polite.

It wasn't much to go on, but her brain ran with it anyway, tripping over ideas and cataloging options to present to her charges. Hopefully, she could gain some insight during the tour and, if she was particularly lucky, begin to introduce them to some of the more affable members of the court.

The handmaiden turned the corner and followed the corridor down to the correct room. She hoped that both of them were awake and ready—she had been up late the night before helping Yane plan the goodwill tour and she had woken up hungry.

She knocked briskly. When no one answered, she knocked again—only for the door to slide open, leaving her hand hanging awkwardly in the air. Right in front of Jedi Kenobi's chest.

"Good morning," he greeted with a pleasant politician's smile. If it was true the Jedi could sense emotions, he was very politely ignoring her embarrassment.

"Good morning," the handmaiden replied primly, tucking her hands into a neat knot and pretending for all the galaxy like she hadn't almost thumped him in the chest. "How were the rooms?" She smoothed back her hair.

Jedi Kenobi nodded, "The rooms are very nice." His smile lightened from merely polite to something approaching genuine. Despite that, it didn't look like he'd had a good night; although he seemed alert, his skin had a pale cast and his eyes looked creased.

"I'm glad you like them." Her eyes flicked into the room behind the Jedi and she saw Anakin flopped on the couch, head tilted at an uncomfortable angle, watching the proceedings through heavy-lidded eyes. Note to self, get Anakin back in time for a nap this afternoon. "What do you think, Anakin?"

But the child just shrugged. An early nap, then, she amended. Sabe did not envy his tutors, especially his etiquette tutor. The Jedi turned towards the child, opening his mouth sharply, and then seemed to think better of whatever scolding he was going to give.

She broke the silence before it got more awkward. "Are you ready?" she asked, including both in the question.

"Yes, we are," the Jedi apparently spoke for both of them; Anakin's only response was to heave himself off the couch.

Sabe smiled and gestured down the hallway, "Right this way then."

"Where're we going?" Anakin asked as the door closed behind him.

"To the breakfast room."

"You have a whole room just for breakfast?"

"Some cultures have separate rooms for different meals, usually to take into account the change in light throughout the year," Jedi Kenobi lectured, somewhat absently, until he seemed to catch himself. "At least that is the case in the rest of the galaxy. Is it the same on Naboo?"

"Yes, it is. Though..." she paused as they turned a corner, "the palace has several breakfast rooms. Some are for state occasions, some are for guests. If you ever…" Sabe paused again, opening a door and gesturing her companions through, "hear anyone say the breakfast room, though, you know they are talking about this one."

It was a fairly small room, light and airy, with furniture designed for comfort. It was clearly not for entertaining, considering the homey mess of hairpins on one of the windowpanes and the shawl abandoned on one of the seat cushions. Sabe winced, wishing someone had thought to clean up after themselves that morning. Cold breakfast covered the board under the far wall: rolls, butter, pastries, cold meat, and cereal.

She continued, "This is where everyone who lives in the South Wing eats breakfast—handmaidens, Queen, upper staff, a couple of the high ministers and their families, as well as the heads of security." Because it was an elected monarchy, it didn't collect a court of hangers-on like so many hereditary seats did, allowing for more informal relationships behind the scenes. The handmaiden caught sight of Anakin's dazed face and reminded herself sternly that Anakin was stepping into an entirely new world. She added a slight apology, "It's a fairly big palace."

"You're welcome here at any time," she added, including Kenobi in her comment. "But there's only breakfast between 6:00 and 9:00 in the mornings." She studied the muffins before selecting a cinna one.

Anakin nodded, copying her example carefully as he began filling a plate.

Satisfied with her takings, she settled into her usual spot near the head of the table. The other two followed suit. Half-hearted conversation followed, mostly limited to questions clarifying the names and contents of their breakfast. The strange tension between the two males kept Sabe talking, trying to head off whatever storm was brewing between them.

Slowly the caffeine took effect and her companions perked up; Anakin became more talkative.

"So, what are we gonna do today? Are we still gonna go on that tour? Will I get to see the whole palace?" Halfway through a bite of fruit, his eyes lit up and another question burst out of Anakin's mouth, "Can we go see the hangar today? 'cause it looked way wizard last night."

Common civility pointed out that a casual tour of the place where a guest's companion had likely been murdered would be…well…indelicate at best.

"I'm sorry, Anakin, but I—," seeing Anakin's face darken, Sabe changed tacks, preferring to keep the peace. "If you want a proper tour of the hangar, I will have to introduce you to the Royal Hangar Controller."

Anakin's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I'll talk to her tonight to see when she's free."

"Wizard!"

The force of his enthusiasm was overwhelming, but Sabe couldn't help her smile. "As for your other question, I doubt there'll be time to see the whole palace today, but at least you'll have a good idea of how to get around. You'll have plenty of time to explore." She shifted, making sure to include the Jedi in her question, "Still, what would you like to see first? I thought if we started with the gardens it would help you understand the layout of the whole grounds…."


Anakin poked moodily at the seat of his chair, too heart-sore to do anything else. The tour with Sabe that morning had been exciting and she was really cool, but he was exhausted after spending all morning not liking Obi-Wan. It had been easier on the ship. For one, he hadn't seen much of Obi-Wan there. The stupid Jedi had been ignoring Anakin (or had Anakin been avoiding him? Sometimes it all got so tangled and Anakin didn't like thinking about it anyway) making it so much easier to hate him for leaving him on some stupid, boring planet full of stupid, boring people.

Besides, Palpatine was way more fun. He didn't lecture about stupid things and he was easier to talk to and he told stories about Naboo—which was totally wizard, even though Naboo sounded boring and stupid.

And Palpatine had promised him that it was okay to be angry with Obi-Wan. That it was perfectly normal to be angry because he was being left behind again and who liked being abandoned? And that was good, because anger made Anakin feel awake and alive. Even better, anger made everything feel distant, like it was all happening on a holo-vid and not to him. He didn't have to be scared or worried, he could just be mad instead.

But...it wasn't working anymore. For some reason, from the moment he'd left the Chancellor's yacht, the anger had started to melt until all he had left were the knots in his stomach and the queasy feeling in his middle.

His toes fell asleep, wedged in the crack between the cushion and the chair's armrest. He shifted slightly, angling his knees so he could wiggle his toes and wake them up. He wrapped his arms around his legs, hugging them closer to his torso. His eyes gazed through the window that overlooking the lake, but he wasn't really seeing it.

"Anakin."

His eyes widened in confusion. He turned in his chair to double check that it really was Obi-Wan talking to him, and not just his imagination. They'd been not-talking so carefully for so long that Anakin wasn't sure what to say.

Did I do something else wrong?

So he didn't say anything. If someone was mad at him, he knew, it was safer to stay quiet. He watched Obi-Wan warily as the man moved closer, unsure of what was going on. He held a wrapped box in his hands. Something itched at the back of Anakin's mind—why is Obi-Wan so nervous?

"I was going to leave this for you when I left, my goodbye present. But I decided to give it to you now." He stretched out his hand, holding out the small package with a small, hopeful smile in the corner of his mouth. "I think you'll like it."

Part of Anakin was reluctant to take it. The spiteful bit told him to ignore Obi-Wan and leave or to keep staring out the window like he hadn't heard. But he was curious and that emotion was far stronger than his spite. Deliberately, he uncurled first one arm and then the other from around his legs, and then reached out with both hands to accept the gift.

It was light. The paper was scrap, forced to suit the purpose of wrapping gifts rather than made for it, but it had been carefully smoothed and the box was perfectly wrapped. He hesitated, glancing up at Obi-Wan, who looked like he didn't care what Anakin did,though Anakin could totally tell that he did care. Taking his cue, he tore through the paper and blinked when he saw what it concealed.

"You're…you're giving me this?"

It was Obi-Wan's favorite vid-game. When they'd discovered that Anakin liked it too, they'd spent hours of their down time playing it, trying to beat each other's high scores (Garen held the official high score, but everyone agreed it was unbeatable). Anakin could tell that it was Obi-Wan's copy, too—it had the same scratch across the title and the edges of the case were scraped and worn. The casing was slightly cracked and the plastoid was faded grey. Anakin ran a finger along the cover. A week ago, he'd have launched himself at Obi-Wan for a hug. Now he just stared at the gift.

Obi-Wan decided to give me this before we left Coruscant. He wasn't sure what to make of that.

"You're welcome, Anakin," Obi-Wan said after a moment of quiet. He had only just begun to walk away when Anakin found his voice.

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin uncurled himself, turning in the chair so his toes hung off the edge of the seat. "I—would—you wanna play?"

There was a long moment where Anakin was sure Obi-Wan would say no. He could see the denial singing in the air between them. The quiet twisted on for ages until suddenly Obi-Wan's face split into a very un-Jedi smile.

"I think I would be amenable to that."

Anakin's smile burst out, surpassing Obi-Wan's restrained happiness. The two wasted no time reconfiguring the room's HoloNet consol to play their video game.

They did, however, waste Sabe's time when she had to go out of her way to fetch them for dinner.


His favorite part of a lightsabre was the smell. Ozone. Melted metal. Cooked flesh. Combined with the ashy taste on his tongue, the agonized screams, and the whirling, tormented Force, it was a feast designed to please his every sense, the thrill of it squeezing his belly and running a shiver up his spine. The 'sabre hovered over the man's charring, blistering chest, the red light glistening off his teary, begging eyes.

Maul loved it. But it wasn't enough. Not anymore. The Darkness called him, clinging like oil to his skin and sliding along his tattoos in a painful, addictive embrace. Needing more, craving more he lifted his hand—

And then the Force around him shifted; something had changed. It was abrupt and unexpected, not enough to ripple the Darkness he'd pooled around him, but enough to startle him, enough for his hand to slip and score a burning crease down the agonized guard's ribs, freezing the man's face in an agonized parody of a smile.

Maul snapped his teeth in frustration as the tortured guard writhed, his breath coming in pained gasps. The mistake had cost him. The man wouldn't last much longer with a wound like that.

Hunger clawed the Sith's belly, demanding to be sated. It was a rare kind of hunger, the kind that could go for weeks without stirring until something recalled the tang of blood and the scent of burned flesh. Then, it returned, worse than before—always, always demanding more before it could be satisfied, before it left him in peace. Right now, it niggled at his consciousness, distracting him from what a month ago would have been the height of pleasure, this piecemeal destruction of another sentient. But a month ago, he'd destroyed his first Jedi. Now, the guard was hardly enough to tide him over, Force-blind and weak. No, a mere guard could no longer suffice; he'd destroyed the master, now he wanted the apprentice. Now, he wanted all of them.

Maul licked his lips as bloodlust and hunger filled him, the need to destroy those who had destroyed what was his, tempered only by fear of his master should he fail to conform to the plan.

He curled the Darkness tighter, wrapping himself and the fading body until they were both untraceable. He would wait.

The guard died screaming.


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