Chapter Three - Meetings and Intrigues
"We'll be docking shortly, Ambassador."
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Sabé watched the young man leave and sat down heavily in the dining alcove, a somewhat delicate process with all of her robes of state. Ordinarily she spent take-offs and landings in her own cabin, but on this trip she'd been obliged to receive the security inspection team from the surface.
It had taken Sabé almost four full days to get to this point. A full day to wrap up her affairs on Malastare, two days in hyperspace, and another day spent in tedious orbit above Coruscant waiting for clearance to land, something that had never happened in all of Sabé's prior ventures to the capital. It was only to be expected, though. She'd spent her day floating in space almost permanently glued to the holofeed, learning all she could about what was undoubtedly going to become the legendary Battle of Coruscant.
Idly, she turned on the unit and found a report from two days ago that she'd been watching nonstop. A large group of press was congregated around a smaller group of highly prominent politicians. Among them she spotted Padmé, Prince Bail Organa, Doman Beruss, and a few new faces she knew only by reputation. At the forefront of this gathering was a face she knew all too well— Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and Sabé's brother-in-law.
"I can confirm with undeniable certainty," he said, "that Count Dooku is indeed deceased. He was killed in the final leg of our campaign to recapture the Chancellor."
There was a flurry of excited shouting, grunting, and hand or appendage-waving from the press corps. Shayla Paige-Tarkin, who seemed to have been designated the intermediary, pointed sternly at a young Bothan male close to the front.
The shouting died down just in time to catch the beginning of his question. "Jedi Skywalker, is it true that you delivered the killing blow?"
Anakin didn't seem very pleased at the question. "Yes, it was me," he answered curtly. "Next question?"
"And where was Master Kenobi in that moment?"
"He was otherwise occupied. There were many obstacles to overcome to get us both into the chambers where the Chancellor was being held."
"Where is the Chancellor now?"
At this point, Senator Paige-Tarkin stepped in, somehow managing to dismiss Anakin without making it look like that was what she was doing. A knowing smile pulled at the corner of Sabé's mouth, and she shook her head. She hadn't gotten out of politics but she was grateful every day that she'd gotten out of Coruscant and all its ridiculous subtleties. "The Chancellor is resting comfortably in his chambers here in the Senate complex. Naturally, after such a trying ordeal it will be a few more days before he is ready for questioning."
Sabé turned off the holo again. She'd watched the full briefing several times now, and never with any satisfactory results, which was to say, nothing that told her where Ben was now or what he was doing. She could at least be reasonably assured he hadn't been seriously hurt— she felt they would have mentioned it if he had, but she didn't like the sound of 'otherwise occupied' and wished she had Anakin on hand to elaborate on that very careful dance of words.
It had been almost five years since she'd seen Ben. Five long years since Richard's wedding, five years since she'd confessed her love to a Jedi Master in a quiet cavern below Theed Palace. Not long after they had been plunged into war, and the battles scattered him to the farthest corners of the galaxy, where news was scarce and she lived in fear every moment for his survival. She scoured the reports from the front, always searching, always hoping.
The burden of this lonely vigil was in no way eased by the second secret she carried—that of her sister's marriage. Precious few people knew about Anakin and Padmé. These few included Sabé, Captain Typho, and Padmé's handmaidens: Ellé, Moteé, and Sabé's old friend Dormé. There was of course the priest who had married them and the two droids who had witnessed the ceremony, but Sabé often forgot about them, since they never played as active a role in keeping the secret. Claria did not know and neither did Richard. Everything had gotten even more complicated when news had been released of Padmé's pregnancy.
It would be strange to see her sister again, an expectant mother. Sabé was almost dreading the experience. As much as she loved her sister, there were times when she felt an insurmountable resentment. Really, what were the odds that two twin sisters would both fall in love with Jedi? Sabé would never forget the pain she had felt when Padmé had first confided her marriage, nor the tears that she had wept long into the night after her sister could no longer see. It had never stopped hurting, the knowledge that Padmé was enjoying what Sabé could not.
So often she had been tempted to return the confidence, to tell her sister of her own forbidden love, but something invariably held her back. She did not want to risk Anakin finding out about it. He was too unpredictable, and she couldn't expect Padmé to be able to withhold such information from a husband she so thoroughly adored.
And so she endured in silence. The holo report, for all its tedious details and politicians on stage, had assured her of one blessed thing: Ben was still alive. Even more exhilarating, he was here, on Coruscant.
A slight tremor in the bulkheads indicated they'd crossed into the atmosphere. Sabé briefly considered fastening her crash webbing, but then decided it was half pointless by now. Instead, she waited patiently as the pilot continued with landing procedures. They had been fortunate to make it to the planet's surface so quickly. Sabé's status as an ambassador and former Senator, not to mention her relationship to the current Senator, Amidala, meant that she enjoyed a few privileges such as front-of-the-line security inspections. In all likelihood, traffic in and out of the capital would be clogged for some time yet.
Finally, with gentle clunking sounds and a release of pressure, the ship came to a halt. Sabé got to her feet and waited for Maité and Lyré to join her. Together the princess and handmaidens descended the ramp, where Sabé was unsurprised to see Captain Typho waiting for them beyond on the platform.
"Welcome back to Coruscant, Princess," he said with a smile.
"Thank you, Captain. I think," she said, returning the gesture before reaching out to give Dormé an embrace.
"The Senator couldn't come," Dormé explained as she pulled away. "Security concerns."
"I didn't expect to see her here, don't worry."
"She can't wait to see you, though. We'll be meeting her for dinner."
"Great. Is Parin still working as chef?"
"I don't think he'd leave unless he were bodily hauled away."
"Which would take some serious hauling," pointed out Sabé. "Rangorans aren't noted for being compact."
Dormé laughed. "No, my lady."
They made their way to an airspeeder and then along a route with which Sabé was unfamiliar. She remembered that Padmé kept another set of apartments on Coruscant, apart from her official quarters in the Senate complex, but she'd never actually had opportunity to visit them until now. Ironically, without Padmé's considerably higher notoriety, Sabé had not been able to justify such an expenditure during her tenure as Senator, nor had she any private reason so good as Padmé's to keep herself at times a bit farther away from prying eyes.
Finally, they arrived. Sabé had to admit she was impressed. The rooftop complex boasted direct airspeeder access. It was quite beautiful, but she couldn't help but wonder—
"Isn't this a security risk?" she asked Captain Typho as he reached out a hand to assist her out of the speeder.
Dormé was right behind her. "I wouldn't bring that up," she warned, though there was a playful gleam in her eye as she sneaked a peek at Captain Typho, who was frowning with very tight lips. "It's a sore subject."
"I shouldn't wonder," Sabé commented, glancing at him a little sympathetically. He was a relative of Hugh Panaka's, after all.
Any further conversation was driven from her mind. A few meters beyond the entry alcove, Padmé came rushing out of a side corridor in a most un-dignitary-like fashion. "Sabé!" she greeted, her smile wide enough to power the city.
Sabé hurried forward to greet her sister, wrapping her arms tightly around her. She immediately noticed the new feeling of the bulge of Padmé's belly beneath her voluminous gown. She pulled quickly away and studied the new sight with fascination. "May I?" she asked tentatively.
Padmé laughed. "It's nice to see you too. Yes, by all means."
Sabé reached out a soft, hesitant hand and rested it where her new niece or nephew lay warmly ensconced, soon ready to greet the world beyond. It wasn't her first experience of the sort— she'd had the fortune to be on Naboo during the final week's of Yvenne's first pregnancy, but that didn't make the experience any less wondrous.
"Oh, Padmé," she breathed. "I know it's been hard, but— I'm so happy for you."
"Thank you," her glowing sister replied.
"Is he—?" Sabé asked meaningfully, lowering her voice slightly out of old habits. They were safe to speak openly of the matter here.
By way of answer, Padmé turned slightly to look over her shoulder, and Sabé saw Anakin for the first time, holding back slightly in the shadow of the hallway from which Padmé had emerged. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching the sisters' reunion with a tranquil expression.
He looked utterly different than the brash padawan Sabé had last known him as. His hair was longer; his apprentice braid long since cut off. But it wasn't so much a physical change. There was something else, too, something about him that felt far older than a meager five years' experience ought to have bestowed.
Sabé gave him a smile. "It's been quite a while since the jail cell on Cliopa, Anakin," she called out.
He stepped forward. "That it has. It's good to see you, Sabé."
She opened her mouth and hesitated a moment before adding, "Congratulations."
He only nodded and gave a quiet smile.
"I have so much I want to talk to you about," Padmé said, steering Sabé by her elbow further into the main living area. "The first of which is," she gave a very official-sounding sigh. "I wonder if you could do me a favor."
"You know, that is just not the first thing you want to hear coming out of a seasoned politician's mouth when you step through the door, even if she is your sister," Sabé could not help but remark. "No promises, but what is it?"
Padmé snuck a glance at her husband and then gave Sabé a small, sheepish smile. "There's a public session tomorrow," she said. "The first time that the Chancellor will be appearing since the assault. There's no vote, no participation. It's really more of a glorified press conference."
Sabé's mind was quickly putting together the pieces. "Oh, Padmé, no," she whined.
"Please?" Padmé entreated, squeezing a bit more tightly to Sabé's forearm. "It's just for a few hours. Anakin hasn't been here since— well, since—" a bit awkwardly, her eyes flicked down to her stomach.
It took every ounce of Sabé's self-control to point out that she hadn't seen her sister in over a year and a half. "How are you sure that it's even going to work?" she asked. "I know we're twins, but we're not indistinguishable."
"Two of the species near the Naboo pod don't even see in our light spectrum, and the rest of them are just old men; you know that. Besides, I still sometimes wear the face paint."
Sabé wondered what all those old men would think right now if they could witness the much-vaunted Senator Naberrie bargaining like an eight-year-old for a hall pass. It really was comical. She knew she was one of the handful of people in the galaxy who ever got to see this side of Padmé, on those extremely rare occasions when she let go and actually let herself be petulant like the rest of the universe.
She sighed. "You're sure I won't have to say anything?" she asked.
"I think there might be an acknowledgement. Senator Organa and I did play a small part in trying to help the Chancellor avoid capture, but I doubt he'll ask you to say anything. Although you might want to have something prepared, just in case."
"Padmé!!"
Her sister only gave an infuriating smile. "Oh, come on, Sabé," she pleaded again. "I'm not the only one who uses a stand-in and you know it. The Senate wouldn't fall apart if someone found out, believe me. Please, will you do it?"
Sabé gave a half-hearted scowl. Nobody could ever say no to her sister. "You'd better already have something on hand to make me look pregnant," she advised. "Because I'm certainly not going out to get one."
"Well, I can think of a way you'd probably enjoy, but we can't afford another scandal so close on the heels of mine, can we?"
"Padmé!!" This time Sabé looked at her sister in horror and favored a glare over her shoulder at Anakin, who was chuckling in the background.
"There's also the obvious time factor," Padmé pointed out matter-of-factly.
"Obviously."
"Thank you, Sabé. You don't know how much this means to me."
"Actually," Sabé said softly, almost to herself, "I think I do."
"How is Sioned doing?"
"She's doing well. She really likes it here. I have a hard time keeping her away from those membrane walls, though. I'm certainly getting my exercise."
"You seem tired."
"I'm almost eight months pregnant, Richard," Yvenne said quietly. "It comes with the territory."
Richard gave her an encouraging smile and then tried to think of something else to say. "Claria called," he finally said, casting on this bit of news. "She wants to have me for dinner tonight. She says she and Ceidron have something important to tell me."
Even with the grainy quality of the holo, it was easy to see the excitement in Yvenne's eyes at this news. "Oh! She should have waited for all of us!" she exclaimed.
"Well, she didn't say what it's about," he pointed out, laughing despite himself.
"Well, she wouldn't, but they've been trying for so long. What else could it be?" Yvenne looked down and rubbed her belly. "Are you going to have another cousin on the way?" she asked. Richard was glad she was looking down so that she couldn't see his wince. He really didn't like to be reminded of Padmé's pregnancy, however roundabout.
Yvenne looked up again. "Anyway," she said, her face still full of glowing joy, "I assume by 'having you over for dinner' that Claria cooks dinner in one of the guest suites and pretends that's where they live when you come over?"
"You know how high the threat is," he said. "We're no closer yet to catching these terrorists, though we are working on a new strategy. I don't like to risk leaving the palace if I don't have to."
"I know, I know. Just—"
"Just what?"
"Ask Claria to call me in the morning, okay? I want to talk to her."
"I will."
"All right. I miss you."
"I miss you too."
More hesitantly, she added, "I love you."
He nodded. "Same here. Good night, Yvenne. Give Sioned a kiss and hug for me."
"I will. Good night, Richard."
She stepped off the holo pad and the transmission ended automatically. Richard turned off his own projector with a sigh and pulled back from his desk, stretching his stiff neck.
The comm unit buzzed. Richard groaned. "What is it?" he called to the thin air.
"Sire," replied his secretary, "the Lady Nashira is here to see you. She doesn't have an appointment."
Richard rubbed his eyes. "No, it's all right. I'll talk to her. Go ahead and send her in."
"Yes, Sire."
A moment later the far door opened, admitting a tall, graceful woman about seven standard years older than Richard. She had jet black hair and luminous skin, and a gown decidedly uninspired by current Naboo fashion trends. "Thank you for seeing me, Your Highness. Am I interrupting?"
"No, no. I just finished a holo call with the queen."
Nashira smiled. "And how is Her Majesty?"
"Well enough. She doesn't like to be in hiding." Richard stood to his feet and began gathering papers and other odds and ends to take back to his quarters for review. Perhaps his dinner with Claria and Ceidron would end early.
"She may not like it, but she is securely hidden. Even I can't divine where you've stashed her away," Nashira added.
Richard looked up at her in mild amusement. "Is that some sort of confession, my lady?" he asked. "Are you trying to read my thoughts?"
"Certainly not, Sire. Even if I wanted to, I've told you I have no talent for such things."
"So you've said. To be honest I don't really understand the things you tell me. But I don't understand what the Jedi mean when they talk about the Force, so I suppose that's no surprise."
Lady Nashira Baveprin, as she called herself, was something of an oddity in the royal court. She claimed no homeworld, but rather an allegiance with a society of nomads called the Fallanassi. It was Padmé who had made the lady's acquaintance, back during her second term in office, and for whatever reason was so impressed with her that she had invited her to Naboo for an indefinite visit as a guest of the court, a visit that had lasted all the way through Richard's first term and now a year into his second.
Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure what benefit Padmé had hoped that Nashira would bring to court, nor Nashira's motivations for staying, but he had found her a useful ear at times. She had certainly demonstrated her discretion. "Was there something I can help you with?" he asked.
"Actually, Sire, you were the one who asked to see me. But that was before all that business on Coruscant."
Richard groaned and covered his eyes with his hand. "You're right. I forgot. I'm so sorry."
"Not at all, not at all. I gathered from the nature of your message that you wanted the interview to be of a private nature, so I waited until the excitement died down a little."
"That was well-observed, thank you." Richard circled the desk and held out a hand, indicating the two chairs in front of his desk. "Would you mind sitting for a moment?"
"Certainly not, Your Majesty."
Together they sat. "These are the same chairs my mother used for her office," Richard said. "Sabé used to always say she picked the most uncomfortable ones on purpose." He wriggled a little and made a face. "I think she was right," he said with a laugh.
Nashira, who sat composedly in her own chair, not unlike a queen herself, returned the laugh. "I think I might agree," she said. "You must miss your mother dearly, King Richard, if I may be so bold."
He sobered and gave a wistful nod. "I do. Both of my parents. Very much."
"You're a great credit to them."
"Thank you." He let the awkward pause that followed hang for only a moment. "I wanted to ask you a question about your people. Specifically, about their abilities. Your abilities."
She spread her hands. "What would you like to know?"
"You tried to explain to me once about the White Current, as you call it? It's not the same as the Force? I found that bit confusing."
Nashira pressed her lips together. "Yes and no," she said slowly. "In the broadest sense of comparison, they could be considered the same. But the Fallanassi tap into energies and use techniques disregarded by the Jedi."
Richard decided not to point out that it still sounded to him like they were using two different names for the same thing. "I do recall," he pressed on, "that the applications your people practice include techniques of encryption and disguise."
"That's one way of putting it, but yes. Why the renewed interest, Your Majesty?"
"I may have need to employ such methods in our efforts to track down this terrorist faction that has been trying to assassinate me and my family. Specifically, to assist with infiltration. We haven't had any success with conventional efforts, and I fear that I'm running out of time. Is it possible to use your techniques to alter the appearance of a person?"
"It is. The Jedi can also perform such a feat, though as I said, their technique is different."
"Unfortunately, almost the entire order of Jedi are otherwise occupied fighting the war," Richard pointed out. "Otherwise I would have asked for their help in this investigation a long time ago. Besides," he added, "bringing a Jedi here would raise a warning flag. If this strategy is to succeed, I'd rather have the advantage of surprise. I know that since you're not a Naboo citizen, I can't appeal to your sense of duty, but—"
"I would be happy to help by whatever means I am able, of course, Your Majesty," she said warmly. "I'm very fond of your family."
He nodded. "Thank you. I'll keep you informed when I have further information."
The chrono on the wall beeped and Richard turned to look at it, almost surprised. "Oh," he said and began to rise to his feet. Nashira followed his example. "I'm losing track of the hour. I'm due to dine with my sister and her husband this evening." He walked back around his desk to retrieve his workload. Then he looked up. "Would you maybe care to join us? I'm sure Claria wouldn't mind. She always makes more than enough food, and as far as I know it's just the three of us so far."
"I would be delighted, Your Majesty, thank you. I do not often get the chance to converse with Princess Elsinoré. She has so gracefully managed to keep herself out of the politics to which the rest of your family seems practically wed."
Richard chuckled and shook her head. "You've got the heart of it, there," he agreed. "All right. Meet me at the south wing security checkpoint in an hour. I'll tell the guard to expect you."
"I look forward to it, Sire."
Ceidron walked in the door to the angry pounding of pots and pans. He held back, wondering for a brief moment if he should just turn around and go back to the house. Anger and cooking weren't a good combination for anyone, and Claria was no exception. But he'd known they were going to have to face this night for almost a week now. There was no backing out.
Mustering his courage, he started taking steps forward until they carried him into the kitchen. Claria was setting the table. He hung back in the doorway, allowing her to spot him but also allowing her to make the first move.
She looked up. There was a glare on her face, but he didn't seem to be feeling its poison. He breathed an inward sigh of relief. She wasn't mad at him.
"I'm not mad at you," she said.
"Then who made you mad?" he asked.
"Richard. He just called to say he invited that creepy Nashira woman to dinner. I couldn't tell him to call it off. They were already on their way."
"Yikes," said Ceidron, stepping forward. "What do you think we should do?"
She stopped mid-motion, a plate in her hand hovering over the table for a moment. Slowly, she set it down and put the freed hand on her hip. She sighed. "Well, I didn't want an audience, but it's not like it's going to stay a secret. We have to tell him, Ceidron. It's going to come out, and if Richard's administration aren't the ones to control the story, it will be just another inconvenience on top of everything else he has to deal with."
"I'm so sorry that my daughter is just another inconvenience."
Claria stiffened. She didn't reply, only resumed putting down plates.
Ceidron reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry," he said.
She shook her head. "It's fine," she said, though her voice was still taut. "You're right. She shouldn't have to become a political issue, but like it or not, that's the whole point of this dinner. Welcome to the dark side of politics."
She walked briskly out of the dining room and into the kitchen, where she started rifling through the cabinet and pulling down glasses. Ceidron followed her. "Hey," he said softly. "We haven't talked about this since, well, since I first told you. Are you okay?"
Claria turned to him with a slight frown but kept working. "What do you mean we haven't talked about it?" she asked. "We've barely talked about anything else."
"Sure, about how to handle it, but we haven't talked about what it means for us. Are you okay?" he repeated, this time with pointed emphasis.
At that she paused and turned fully to face him. "No, not exactly," she confessed. "What do you want me to say, Ceidron? I'm not even really mad. It's not like you made it any kind of a secret that you'd been with other women before, I just— I guess it's just one thing to know that and quite another to have evidence of it. Especially since we haven't been able to get pregnant." She turned away, awkwardly, staring at the dish in her hand.
Ceidron stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She was stiff, but she did not push him away. "I know things are going to change," he said quietly. "A lot. And I promise that it doesn't change the way I feel about you in the slightest. But I want to do the right thing here."
She had begun to relax a little as soon as he'd begun to talk, though he knew she couldn't completely. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?" he asked quietly. As of yet, Claria had met neither Jessa nor Larkin. He'd known that she would need time to adjust.
Claria gave a wooden laugh. "Please. I'm still nervous about tonight. One thing at a time."
He lowered his lips to her hair, kissing the crown of her head, and hovered there a moment. "I'm sorry this has been hard for you," he murmured.
She turned around and leaned up to embrace him completely. "Me too. But it really helps out that you're so wonderful about it all." She rested her head on his shoulder.
"Yeah," he said lazily. "I am pretty great."
She snorted into his shirt sleeve, and then pulled away. "Help me set the table."
An hour and a half later, the fine dishes that Claria had prepared were half-eaten on the tabletop, no longer steaming. Ceidron helped her set out the dessert while Richard and his guest discussed the current political situation on Coruscant.
"The Chancellor is due to give an official statement on the whole business tomorrow," Richard was saying. "I have to say, I'm impressed that he's making such a strong gesture of strength so soon after the event. That's what we need at this critical stage."
"So two Jedi nights just swooped in there and got him out?" Claria asked as she set Richard's bowl of cold fruit and custard down in front of him.
"Not just any Jedi nights. Master Obi-Wan and Anakin Skywalker," he said incredulously, twisting around to look up at her. "Claria, haven't you been watching the news the past few days?"
Claria glanced at Ceidron briefly, who despite himself, couldn't keep a small smile from escaping. She averted her gaze and calmly set the final serving of custard for herself. Together, she and Ceidron took their places. "Well, no, actually, Richard, we've been a bit preoccupied." She looked at Ceidron again pointedly.
Both Richard and Nashira turned to Ceidron in curiosity. Richard's expression was bizarrely expectant and hopeful, and Ceidron abruptly realized what 'we have something important to tell you' had probably sounded like. He almost laughed, but managed to hold himself back.
"Oh, yes, um," he said, reaching up a hand to help clear a nervous cough. "First off, I apologize, Lady Nashira, for involving you in a family matter. But we both agreed to go forward." He looked at his brother-in-law. "The thing is, I found out five days ago that I have a daughter."
Lady Nashira, whose spoon had been halfway to her mouth, blinked in surprise and slowly lowered the spoon. Richard just blinked in surprise. Claria looked at Ceidron in grim sympathy.
"You have an illegitimate daughter?" Richard asked.
Ceidron scowled. "All right, first of all, I really hate that expression."
"What expression?"
"'Illegitimate child.' It makes it sound like she doesn't have the right to exist or something. If you want to call somebody illegitimate, at least go for me and her mother."
"Fair enough. And who is her mother, exactly?" Richard asked with raised eyebrows.
"Richard," Claria chastised softly. Her brother looked at her and she looked back, unspoken volumes of meaning in her soft brown eyes.
Richard collected himself and turned back to Ceidron. "My apologies," he said stiffly. "Same question but with all due politeness."
Ceidron still felt a bit bristly but made a pointed effort to move on. "An old school friend of mine," he said. "Well, more than that. A once upon a time serious girlfriend. From Commenor. I came to Naboo shortly after we broke up. I didn't know she was pregnant and she never told me."
"Until now, obviously."
"She's fallen on some financial hardship."
"And now she wants to blackmail the Naboo crown." Richard tossed his napkin on the table beside his bowl. "Lovely."
"No," Ceidron shot back before Claria could intervene again. His voice rose ever so slightly in warning. "She wants me to take care of Larkin now. She hasn't asked me for a decicred, Richard. And I believe I just asked you to stop inferring that my daughter was someone of whom I should be ashamed."
"I didn't—"
"Well, you used the word blackmail. I can only assume you don't want her to be associated with our precious, untarnished family image. In which case, maybe you should worry less about the black sheep brother-in-law and have that heart to heart with Padmé that you've been so longing to have."
Ceidron was leaning forward threateningly and Richard's face was turning red. He opened his mouth with some scathing reply, but never got to make it.
"Enough!" Claria shouted, looking between the two men. Lady Nashira had long since regained her barely-ruffled composure and sat watching the three younger people quietly. Claria turned to the other woman. "Ceidron already made our apologies, Lady Nashira. We were hoping to have this interview with my brother in private. As you can see, this is no reflection on you." At this, she turned a fierce glare on her brother.
"I can assure you, I take no offense," Nashira replied. Setting her own napkin down, she began to rise to her feet. "Would you prefer it if I escorted myself home?"
Richard was still scowling, so it was a moment before he gathered himself enough to give her a stiff nod. "Perhaps that would be best, Lady Nashira. Thank you for your company and may I also apologize for the spectacle you were forced to endure."
"I understand completely, Your Highness. Thank you, Princess Elsinoré, for such a fine meal." She headed to the nearby door and turned around once before leaving. "And of course you have my complete discretion on this matter."
Ceidron nodded. "Thank you, madam, though you won't be forced to maintain your silence for long. It is not something I intend to be kept a secret."
"Good night, then, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses."
When Nashira had gone, the swoosh of the mechanized lock behind her, Claria reached up and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingertips tiredly. "Sit down, both of you."
They sat.
"Richard," she said. "I know that you're under a lot of stress right now, what with Naboo stretched for resources to contribute to the war and the threats to yourself and Yvenne and Sioned, and I know that as ugly and hypocritical as it is, the fact remains that surprise children from the mysterious past of Princess Elsinoré's ill-advised offworld marriage aren't going to do much for you politically."
Richard fumed but did not reply.
"That being said," she continued, "for goodness' sake, calm down. You never used to get upset over things like this. Ceidron hasn't betrayed me, or deceived us. There will be a brief period of gossip tongues wagging and in a few months the newness of the scandal will wear off and it won't have made the slightest substantial impact on anything politically."
She sat down wearily and the room was quiet for several long moments. Ceidron picked a spot of the wood grain on the table and stared at it, unwilling to look around lest the sight of his brother-in-law made him riled again.
Finally, Richard inhaled long and deliberately. "This—" he began. "I'm sorry, what did you say your former girlfriend's name was?"
"I didn't. It's Jessa. Jessa Kennich."
"You really don't believe her to be merely exploiting your status with the royal family?"
Ceidron bristled. "No," he said.
"And—" Richard hesitated. "This is an unpleasant question, but I have to ask. It's going to come up with the press— you're sure the child is yours?"
At these words, Ceidron finally felt a bit of chagrin. "Yes," he said. "We've confirmed it."
"It's why we've waited until now to tell you," Claria added quietly.
"And how, may I ask, do you feel about this, Claria?" Richard asked.
She looked at Ceidron. "We want to do the right thing."
"All right. When, exactly, is the right thing going to begin?" Despite the obvious best efforts on Richard's part, a note of sarcasm leaked into his tone.
"We're going to visit them tomorrow," said Ceidron.
"Claria can't be seen in public," Richard protested. "You already know I don't like her living in the city with you."
"And we've allowed our home to be turned into a small fortress to accommodate the danger," Ceidron.
"Why can't this lady and her daughter come visit you there?" Richard wanted to know.
Ceidron shifted uncomfortably. "She's in prison."
At this, Richard merely raised his eyebrows.
Claria licked her lips, looking resigned. "Due to the increased security surrounding Ceidron and the fact that everything was in uproar after the last attack on the palace, Jessa was unsuccessful in making contact with Ceidron. Her visa was in danger of expiring, so to avoid being forced back to Naboo, she— went on a little crime spree."
"Clever," said Richard dryly.
"Well, that was another detail we were hoping you could smooth over," Ceidron put in. "Considering the fact that it's your security protocols that prevent me from getting all of my mail."
Richard considered this carefully. "Fine," he said. "But may I make my own request? Allow my private investigators to do a thorough background check on this woman. If her story checks out, I'll have her moved to the palace under house arrest and we'll straighten things out from there. Until then, please, Claria. Don't go outside."
His request was much softer in tone, a genuine plea rather than a brittle command, and he looked at his sister with eyes of a brother concerned for her life. Ceidron was forced to drop his inner defensiveness. He didn't have to like it, but the threat to the royal family was very real.
Claria looked over at Ceidron and they held gazes for a few moments. Then she turned back to her brother and slowly nodded.
"Good, that's settled." Richard pushed away from the table and got to his feet. "As soon as the background check is finished, I'll have the story put in the news cycle. In the mean time, I have reports that need reading." He put two fingers to the bridge of his nose, much as Claria had done not ten minutes ago.
Claria walked over and gave him a tentative embrace. "Thank you, Richard."
He returned the gesture with tired arms. "Thank you for dinner. It was delicious."
When Richard was gone, Claria started to clear the dishes. Ceidron stepped around and stayed her hand. "Let the cleaning droids do that," he said.
She shook her head, agitated. "You know I need something to do when I'm nervous, Cee."
"I know," he said softly, seizing her other hand.
She looked up at him and rolled her eyes at the expression on his face. "Oh brother," she said, but could not prevent a slight smile at the corner of her mouth.
"If I'm not mistaken, your brother just left. Leaving us all alone."
"Yeah, but we have a mile of fortified tunnels to go through before we're back home."
"As I recall, those tunnels were very advantageous to our relationship once upon a time," he said, leaning down to brush a teasing kiss over her lips. "Besides," he added, increasing his assault of kisses, "who said anything— about—going home?"
"Ceidron—" she said with an attempt at a warning, but giggled when he lowered their hands and made a quick, playful grab for her waist.
"You know, you looked really hot when you were ordering us both to mind our manners just now," he said, pulling away with a huge grin.
"Why is it I can never stay mad at you?" she asked, giving him an appraising look. She slid her arms up and bracketed her hands around his neck.
"Benefits of being a smooth talker, I guess."
"Well, you do have something to show for it, don't you?" she asked with a laugh, leaning up to give him a little tease of her own.
"Touché, Princess," he said. Then he cut her off from any other reply. He was still kissing her soundly when he scooped her off the floor and into the other room.
"I forgot how much this stupid makeup itches."
To Sabé's right, Ellé giggled. "Yes, Moteé always complains about it too."
"You've never had to decoy?" Sabé asked, turning to the younger girl in surprise.
The handmaiden shook her head. "I'm too short."
"Which is impressive in this family," Sabé muttered, turning to face forward again.
"I suppose I could have just worn tall shoes or something," Ellé admitted, "but Moteé has a better handle on how to react politically should the need arise. My job is more to observe."
Sabé nodded. Much as Rabé had been for Queen Amidala. She turned to her left where her own handmaiden, Maité, seemed very pensive within the folds of her deep, forest green cowl. "Are you nervous?" she asked.
Maité turned and gave her Princess a brave smile. "A little, my lady. I've never been to the capital before, let alone the Senate rotunda."
"Don't worry. It's actually quite a bit easier than diplomatic meetings with Gee Tairn. The odds of nobody expecting us to say anything are nice and high."
At this, Maité smiled.
Their conversation slowly dwindled as the three of them, trailed by two guards from Captain Typho's select contingent, rode the lift to the appropriate level. Sabé assumed a very officious pace as she stepped out into the luxurious corridor, wanting to avoid anybody stopping for chitchat. At last they reached the doorway that led onto the familiar repulsor pod for the representative from Naboo. Sabé suppressed a distasteful sigh as the door opened and the sight of the vast, never-ending sea of similar pods met her eyes. She hadn't actually been back to the Senate rotunda since her mission with Obi-Wan and Anakin investigating the glowquartz crisis. After Richard's wedding there had only been a few more weeks in her term, and nothing urgent that had required her to be back.
After a moment of studying the familiar sight, she stepped out and took her seat. This was a somewhat cumbersome process, and it took a deliberate effort not to roll her eyes to show her displeasure with Padmé. The fake pregnancy belly she was wearing under her clothes made her feel about as ridiculous as she suspected possible for a sentient being to feel.
So far, only about half the senators had arrived. Sabé looked at the crono. There was still about half an hour before the Chancellor was due to make his appearance, and after that it would likely be a full twenty minutes before the applause and pleasantries ran their course and he actually had the opportunity to begin speaking.
"I can't believe she talked me into this," she muttered to Ellé, who gave a knowing smile.
"Better you than me, my lady."
To pass the time, Sabé pointed out various neighbors and newcomers, telling Maité all about their districts, as well as any more colorful tidbits of information that the younger girl might find as a source of entertainment. Steadily, the pods began to fill and the hum of the chatter in the chamber grew increasingly persistent. Media droids began their frantic buzz through the room. Sabé exchanged pleasantries with seven or eight other representatives (she was never entirely sure whether the Daggan Senator was supposed to be counted as one or two), and was just wondering what ways she could demand that Padmé make this up to her, when at last the proceedings began.
"…Rest assured, though the terror of this war has been unleashed on our very doorstep, though the circumstances seem increasingly grim, the prospects for a speedy and peaceful resolution have not abated. The death of Count Dooku has dealt a hard and decisive blow to the morale of our…"
Obi-Wan had long since learned how to hear a political speech without really having to listen to it. The Council wanted him to not only listen to the speech, but to gauge the Chancellor's moods and the reactions of the crowd that had gathered. Increasing concerns over Palpatine's ever-growing monopoly of power had grown a hundred fold since the last time Obi-Wan had been on Coruscant. As one of the heroes of the Chancellor's recent rescue, nobody would question Obi-Wan's presence here, yet with his attempts to blend in, he was surprised nobody had noticed him yet.
He was fairly certain his former Padawan was not in attendance. He hadn't heard from Anakin since they'd landed, and he didn't like to spend much time thinking about what Anakin might be doing with his impromptu vacation. Such thoughts only made him cranky. Unconfirmed suspicions were much easier to live with.
Still, Obi-Wan's mind could not help but wander to Senator Amidala's booth. News had reached him of the Senator's advanced pregnancy not long after his arrival at the Jedi Temple two days ago. This news had made him even more disgruntled than usual, especially since there were certain mathematical factors that he could not dismiss. He had to admit, he was honestly surprised when he'd learned she was going to be here today.
With a tendril of the Force, he swept past the passengers of the Naboo senator's pod. Then he froze, his mind suddenly emptying of everything— Anakin, the war, the Chancellor's speech— everything except the one thought that had lurked in the back of his mind, quietly resilient, for the past five years.
Sabé.
Sabé was on Coruscant.
What felt like days later, though in reality it had only been somewhere between two and three hours, Sabé stood to her feet. "What did you think?" she asked Maité as the guards took positions flanking the doorway to the corridor outside. The three girls turned to leave.
"I think the people here like to talk," the girl said tactfully. Sabé smiled.
"Well, let's get back to Senator Amidala's apartments," she said. "I desperately need to wash my face."
As light as she made of the situation, inwardly Sabé was concerned by what she had witnessed in the Senate chamber. She half wondered if Padmé hadn't had a secondary motive for sending her on this errand. The Senate, while as distasteful as ever, had changed, and the sampling she'd just had left a bad taste of foreboding in her mouth.
They were almost to the turbolift that would take them to the landing bay when she saw the guards stiffen out of the corner of her eye. Instantly, Sabé was on alert, looking sharply around but almost as quickly the guard relaxed. Sabé slowed her pace and stopped in her tracks, and her entourage followed suit.
Ben was standing beside the turbolift doors, waiting expectantly. His hands were folded in front of him in a serene Jedi posture. Her stomach flipped a little and she swallowed. The war had taken its toll. He looked so much older, so careworn. She could hardly avoid looking straight into his eyes. There was so much to see there, some of it she could not begin to fathom, but buried deeply was a familiar twinkle and an unmistakable longing. Both were only hers to see.
She cleared her throat. "Master Kenobi," she said formally. Her limbs trembled in rebellion at the act. "What a pleasant surprise. It has been quite some time."
He bowed. "My lady. Always a pleasure. May I extend my congratulations," he added, his eyes resting meaningfully on her false stomach. Suddenly, the wish to be able to glare at him joined the list of all the other things she wished she could do.
"Thank you," she said. If the word was slightly more droll than political niceties would have called for, it was not Sabé's fault. "I believe congratulations are in order to you as well. Your rescue of the Chancellor is already the stuff of legends."
"And as with most legends, greatly exaggerated, I'm sure."
There was a lull. Sabé, who was still feeling too flustered to think of any more posturing, hoped that Ben had some kind of plan, because she couldn't think of a next move. Not one that Amidala would make, anyway. She certainly couldn't invite him back home for dinner.
He cleared his throat. "Forgive me, Senator, I'll not take any more of your time. I merely wanted to stop and say hello to an old friend."
That's it? she wanted to scream at him. "It was a pleasure, Master Kenobi. Very rarely does anyone take the time to stop just for pleasantries these days."
"A tragedy in such times," he agreed. He gave another bow. "May the Force be with you, Senator."
"And with you, Master Kenobi."
He walked away, and it was all she could do not to follow him with her eyes until he vanished from sight. She wanted to kick something. What was he playing at, teasing her mercilessly in this way?
Then she felt something, a heavy pressure on her upper right thigh. Right where her pocket was. She gave the tiniest smile.
The turbolift doors closed on Sabé and her entourage, and she could feel the chamber rotating to face the direction they would exit even as it began to rise swiftly to the upper levels.
Maité broke her formal posture to glance at Sabé worriedly. "Do you think he knew?" she asked.
"Oh, he knew," Sabé said. "He learned to tell the difference a long time ago." She could not quite contain the fond sadness from her voice, thinking back. A glance at her handmaiden brought her quickly back to the present. "Don't worry, Maité. Jedi Kenobi is no threat to the secrets of this family."
It was all Sabé could do to contain her impatience during the interminable journey back to Padmé's apartments. She gave her sister a perfunctory greeting, and with promises to discuss the Senate meeting as soon as she was changed, hastened to her private chambers as soon as possible. Once the doors were closed, her hand dived into her pocket.
It was a small square of cardstock paper, folded once in half. She opened it. Dex's. Twenty-three hundred hours. A thrill passed through her from her feet to the crown of her head. She threw the paper into the nearby fireplace and watched it burn, counting down the hours in her mind.
Feedback (for non logged-in reviews):
Miims – Nice to have you on board! I kind of enjoy the Sabé/Obi-Wan myself, obviously. Hope you enjoy the rest of the story!
Emerald Green Queen – Hey, long time no see! I can neither confirm your deny your concerns for our little cast of characters. It's an Episode III fic, so it's not going to be sunshine and daisies. I guess you can count on that much. But we'll have some fun anyways, best we can, yes? The 'spoilt upstart to family glue' description you gave to Sabé made me smile. Never thought about it in quite those terms before.
A/N: I wanted to give all of you, my dearest readers, a heads-up. I need to shelve this story for a few months. Why? I've just started a full-time job with a senior level college class on the side. I am researching for a novel that I'm going to write for Nanowrimo this year, and I had to pick something to take off my plate. The writing was just not going to happen, so making the conscious choice to let myself off the hook for a while was the best one, psychologically speaking. So that's the bad news. The good news is, I'm not abandoning the story. Those of you who have been with me for a few years will know, it may take a while, but I'll always get there eventually. The second piece of (even better) news: I have one more chapter in reserve that I can post, and as a token of appreciation to you all, I'll get that one up sometime in the next couple of weeks. It leaves Sabé and Ben in a place that will make a long hiatus much more endurable, I believe. ;-)
Feedback makes my day. You folks are the best and most patient!
Saché