FicWad

Additional Author's Note: 1.) The scene that had to be cut in two to post the previous chapter on the lj and which was also cut in the comparable chapter here to keep the chapters of a comparable size in both places picks up immediately after the notes here!
2.) Everything wouldn't fit in this chapter in one post on the lj. To keep chapters of a comparable size, I am splitting the final scene in half here as I did on the lj. The last scene will continue IMMEDIATELY in the next chapter!










The news is so stunning, even though it’s what they’ve been hoping for and working for, that it takes a while to really sink in. They are still trying to recover from the realization, Obi-Wan and Anakin twining their fingers together, smiling in unrestrained joy at each other, Mon and Sheltay and Alessya and even Alaina stammering disjointedly about how they need to start setting parts of the plan into motion as soon as possible, even at once, if at all possible, while Raymus just keeps on grinning, shamelessly, like the proverbial feline who’s swallowed an avian, when a comm unit abruptly chimes. Sheltay, startled, answers the comm, still looking a bit undone around the edges, herself, only to gradually come back together, reassembling herself piece by piece, while listening to what is obviously an unexpected report. Afterwards, fully back in command, she briskly issues a string of orders, in which the words “Naboo” and “former handmaids” leap out and grab Anakin and Obi-Wan’s attention, causing them to stand up, as one, hands still entwined, and stride across the room to where Sheltay is still sitting, waiting for her to get off the comm and tell them what’s going on. As it happens, a ship is inbound from Naboo, with a passenger list including Apailana’s closest friend and handmaiden (the decoy who plays Queen for Keiana when there’s too much danger to risk the actual Queen), Jamillia, Jar Jar Binks, and four of Padmé Amidala’s former handmaids, among others. Some of the passengers are asking to speak to Obi-Wan and Anakin, if possible, after the ship lands. Anakin and Obi-Wan trade a swift glance and nod agreement, promising to be available as soon as they’ve had a chance to leave word at the Temple that their discussion has borne fruit but that they won’t be able to report in full until later. Sheltay passes on the word, promises to see to it that the sitting room is cleaned up properly, and waves them off towards their comm for the Temple and the Grand Masters while the others start gathering themselves up, to depart.

Sheltay is overseeing an army of cleaning droids when they come back into the room, on the way out to the landing pads. Everyone else has already gone. She smiles (an edge of triumph lingering, despite her suddenly obvious exhaustion) as they pass by, promising to be available by comm, should she be needed for anything. They nod understanding, returning the smile, and continue on their way, fingers still twined firmly together.

***

The ship (another modified J-type 327 Nubian starship. The Nabooians are quite fond of the long, sleek lines on those ships, and the so-called “Royal Naboo” starships the Royal Naboo Security Forces use for the monarchs of and Senators from Naboo actually all start out as little more than the spaceframes and hulls of J-type 327 Nubian starships) has barely had time to land. They must have been barely beginning their approach to Alderaan when they contacted the planet, to ask for Anakin and Obi-Wan, because it’s taken at least half an hour for the two to get down there. (The Grand Masters had been in, unfortunately, when they tried to comm about being needed elsewhere and giving a proper report later. It delayed them more than they wanted, more than they liked.) A hard-eyed, almost too thin woman (probably in her late thirties, given the tracery of lines around her eyes, though most of her face is still almost stonily smooth) of taller than average height in the maroon and blue-gray uniform of the Royal Guard of Naboo is the only passenger who’s disembarked, and she’s giving the place a thorough once-over, just as if this isn’t one of the most peaceful worlds in the whole of the known galaxy and one of Naboo’s three closest allies. She looks up as the two Jedi Bendu approach – her dark brown hair pulled back and severely braided, revealing blue eyes over sharp cheekbones in a thin, vaguely oval-shaped face made triangular by a sharply pointed, prominent chin, and an equally sharp, pointed nose, the generous mouth the only bit of visible softness about her – tilts her head slightly to the side, and asks, in a surprisingly crisp Coruscanti accent blunted only a little by the somewhat blandly even dialect of Theed, “Bendu Masters Kenobi and Skywalker?”

They both give a short, polite bow (more of a deep nod, really), and Obi-Wan politely inquires as to the lady’s name by agreeing, “Yes, Captain . . . ?”

She returns their bow with a crisply snapped salute, flight helmet tucked under her left arm, and answers, “Moiré Novaren, Masters. Captain Typho piloted the ship in, so I was chosen to debark first. Her Majesty, knowing that I am half Coruscanti and valuing my familiarity with that world, has placed me in charge of interim Senator Dormé Tammesin’s security detail.”

Anakin’s eyebrows twitch in an expression extremely reminiscent of an intrigued Obi-Wan at the admission, which more than explains the unexpected accent. Half Coruscanti?

Her mother, Anakin. Catárren Marchei, the Holo star.

Oh, the one who accidentally stopped the Senate bombing, forty years or so ago?

That would be the one, yes. The man she would later marry was an aide of the Nabooian Senator, at the time. The Jedi became involved in the investigation of the bombing attempt. Qui-Gon told me about it, once. An older friend of his was assigned to the Lady’s security detail, after she’d foiled the plot. She has her father’s blue eyes and more of his height, although, if I’m remembering correctly, I believe Captain Novaren looks rather more like a sharper-featured version of her mother. Somehow, though, I rather doubt the Captain will be asking if we recall her mother. In any case, I’m more interested in her position than her family, at the moment.

Fair enough. So the good Captain’s in charge of Dormé’s security. And she doesn’t look entirely happy. Hmm . . . Anakin’s lips twitch slightly but he manages (if only just) not to smile as he asks the Captain, quite drily, “The existence of which separate security detail I take it the Senator has not precisely given her wholehearted approval and backing?”

The harshly angular woman relaxes a trifle, her sharpness eased by Anakin’s wry humor, and admits, “The Lady Senator is of the opinion that she is too insignificant a target in what is becoming a time of peace to attract the attention of any would-be assassins or bounty hunters. Queen Apailana disagrees and I happen to share the Queen’s opinion. The Queen requested that I inform you that there was an attempt on her life the day after your departure for Alderaan, and, though she was not seriously hurt, her security has requested that she remain in the relative safety of the Theed Palace until the investigation into the incident has come to a satisfactory close, or else she would have come to pay her respects to Milady Breha personally.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin share a startled, concerned look. “Not hurt seriously? What does this mean, exactly?” Anakin snaps, voice sharply demanding.

“And how was the investigation proceeding, when you departed from Theed?” Obi-Wan adds, laying a comforting, calming hand on Anakin’s shoulder.

Captain Novaren winces slightly, her pale face flushing a rosy pink. “Her Majesty’s nose was accidentally broken when she was tackled, to avoid allowing either of the assassins a clean shot. Queen Apailana insists that she is alright and has been joking about how this gives her a perfectly rational excuse to finally do something about what she refers to as the ‘Sith-cursed dreadfully oversized Hycannan nose’ she inherited from her father. Her Majesty instructed me to inform you that she is quite alright and does not require rescuing or baby-sitting, and that she’s sent you a private message by way of her body-double, Lady Lyxé Barakis. One of the assassins was killed outright and the second managed to poison herself before she could be restrained, so the Royal Guard is attempting to track the payment they’d already received back to the source. The Queen’s Second is ready to do her duty, should anything come up that requires the Queen to be present at a more public venue.”

Among Keiana Apailana’s handmaids are three teenaged girls – semi-formally known as the Queen’s First, or the decoy Queen, the Queen’s Second, and the Queen’s Third – who resemble her through the face sufficiently and have coloring that is like enough to hers that they can all pass (if with a little extra care and a varied amount of help from temporary to semi-permanent cosmetics) as either Queen Apailana or even Keiana Apailana: Lyxé Barakis, the eldest of the core of Apailana’s coterie of handmaids, who will turn sixteen on the coming Tapani Day and is actually a little over a year older than her recently turned fifteen Queen (Keiana Apailana’s birthday being on the tenth of Relona, scant hours after the traditional time for Nabooian elections. Apailana, oddly enough, is, therefore, one of the few monarchs of Naboo to have been elected at one age – twelve – but confirmed and later taken office at another – thirteen – given the traditional lag between the time of elections, on the ninth of Relona, the day of confirmation as to the results of the election, on the following day, and the actual ceremonial day of inauguration, at the beginning of Welona. As a result of this time lag and the rest of the galaxy’s tendency to conflate all systems of election and confirmation with those of the Galactic Senate, which don’t happen until the end of Welona and the start of the Winter Fete Festival Week that is sometimes said to be the end of one year and sometimes said to be the beginning of the next, Apailana’s birth date is often inaccurately attributed to the year following her birth); Sioné Karrde, who just had her fourteenth birthday on Harvest Day, right before the beginning of Padmé Amidala’s funeral; and Shmé Myman, who won’t be fourteen until the fifth of Elona. All three handmaids have what Keiana Apailana refers to as the Hannieca face – a face like the Queen’s mother’s, deceptively resembling a somewhat elongated oval from a distance, but with a sharply prominent chin beneath a sharply squared off jaw that resolves, close up, to what Keiana laughing refers to as a rounded rectangle dropped on top of a triangle.

Though certain of their other features (eye color, exact shade of hair color, the shape of the nose, exact height, etc.) all vary slightly, these three particular handmaids and their Queen are all about the same height, build, and weight. Given all of that plus the same basic shape of face, the careful application of cosmetics coupled with shoes with heels of varying heights and/or soles of varying thickness are easily enough (when combined with the Queen’s elaborate wardrobe and the much simpler, often cloaked or cowled uniforms of the handmaids) to allow the four young women to all pass as the same person: Queen Apailana. More than one serious assassination attempt against the young Queen has already been foiled simply by having two Queen Apailana’s show themselves in two widely different locations at the same time. Thus, even though Apailana has extended Alderaan the courtesy of an explanation as to why she is herself unable to attend Breha’s funeral, Lady Lyxé will doubtlessly be dressing as Apailana during her time on planet. That courtesy, coupled with the trust that the Alderaanians will not betray Lyxé’s true identity, is a sign of the good faith and growing closeness between the peoples of Alderaan and Naboo, and the Alderaanian public will doubtlessly be both distracted from their grief over losing their own Queen and reassured by the sign of solidarity and trust. It is a particularly clever move on the young Queen of Naboo’s part, and just the kind of thing that she and her advisors would think to do, not just for Keiana’s sake, but for the sake of the people of Alderaan, as well. Obi-Wan and Anakin therefore have no doubt that Keiana Apailana has deliberately sent the Queen’s First with a handful of her handmaidens – likely those chosen more for an at least superficial resemblance to the Queen than their proficiency in weapons (or at least so they would hope, given the scare) – in her place.

“Ah. So it may still turn out to be more serious than Her Majesty suspects, based on what the Guard eventually finds.” Obi-Wan nods thoughtfully, acknowledging and agreeing with both the Royal Guard’s extra caution in the face of Keiana’s courageous but perhaps too quickly given assurances of wellness and the fitness of the reasons for sending Lyxé in Keiana’s place. “I trust that every precaution is being taken, on the off chance that the conspiracy is more serious than Her Majesty assumes. The Queen’s Guard is highly efficient and effective at their job. Alderaan will of course cooperate with any additional security measures and will welcome the Queen’s First as though she were Apailana herself. Anakin and I will be glad to speak to Milady and her senatorial companion, at their first convenience.”

Captain Moiré Novaren inclines her head in acknowledgment, smiling in gratitude. “I will tell Captain Typho at once. I’m quite sure that Milady and Senator Tammesin will wish to see you both as soon as they’ve disembarked.”

“If I may, first,” Anakin interjects smoothly, before the Captain can turn for the ship, “we were told that there were several of Padmé Amidala’s former handmaidens aboard.”

“Lady Dormé is accompanied by her good friends Saché Dusanka and Yané Cashillé as well as Marté Novaren, a distant cousin of mine who was just about to finish her training as a handmaiden for Senator Amidala. She has four others with her who recently completed their training as handmaids for the Senator – Ché Llacharn, Missé Kevarydd, Chloé Alaunos, and Maighé Meharrion – and another five who were close to being done with their training to become handmaidens, including Merlé Talsun, Brighé Nunarnia, Joilé Kincaer, Lanné Jamdarien, and Cissé Hannieca, an older half-cousin of Queen Apailana’s. They’ve all volunteered to let Saché and Yané help them adjust or else simply finish their training on Coruscant, with the interim Senator as their Lady. I believe some of the handmaidens originally meant for Senator Amidala will be sent back to Naboo, to Lady Sabé, in a year or so, but Saché and Yané are of the opinion that they’ll be of more help training Milady Tammesin’s new handmaidens, and they also believe that the new handmaids will learn more quickly if they’re allowed to work in an environment like the one they’ll eventually be working in a majority of the time, so they’re all being kept together in Milady Tammesin’s household for now,” Moiré explains. Then, more quietly, she adds, “I believe the two former handmaids of Milady Amidala may be trying to prove a point, thus. Senator Tammesin isn’t entirely pleased with the notion of having handmaids who will be able to double as decoys for her in times of danger. She is especially not pleased that Lady Sabé plans to send all of those from the last full training school of handmaidens for Senator Amidala who decide that they do still wish to be handmaids but who do not wish to train in the new Jedi chapterhouse, at Dala City, on to Coruscant, so that they’ll be with the others.”

Anakin – ?

I’ll speak to her about it. Don’t worry. Out loud, Anakin quietly replies, “Lady Dormé is still recovering from the loss of one who’s been as a sister to her, and this promotion came as a bit of a surprise. She is, perhaps, thinking more of her own quite current pain and less of the potential future pain of others. I wouldn’t worry overmuch. She dislikes making others worry for her sake. Once someone has pointed out a few of the more painful possibilities, I’m sure she’ll stop fighting against these security measures so hard.”

At that, the Captain sighs silently, the tightness of her face and jaw relaxing a fraction, the unclenching of her jaw softening her overall face and somehow making it slightly less obviously angular in shape. “That’s good to hear, Master Skywalker. I’ll tell Saché and Yané your opinion on the matter: they’ve been at something of a loss as to what to do, besides simply override her protests. If you’ll excuse me, Masters?” She waits on them expectantly (almost militarily, as though waiting to be formally dismissed), but Anakin only inclines his head slightly while Obi-Wan makes a small gesture of agreement. Finally, with another deep, respectful nod (this time accompanied by a smile), she spins on her heel and strides briskly back to the ship.

As soon as she’s gone, Anakin turns slightly towards Obi-Wan, silently asking, Do you think this assassination attempt could be linked in some way to Seth Panaka? The man has never cared for Jedi or for Naboo’s closeness with the Order, he was quite friendly with Palpatine, and I seem to remember hearing him express admiration for Wilhuff Tarkin more than once. Didn’t the good Colonel become one of the Emperor’s Moffs, in most of the other timelines?

Obi-Wan nods slightly, since no one is there to see and be confused by the silent gesture. He did, yes, while his nephew, Gregar Typho, remained loyal to the Queen of Naboo. Typho is a much better man than his uncle. I’ve always been of the opinion that Panaka thinks a little bit too much of himself and is far too humanocentric. He resents the Jedi and the Gungans alike, for doing what he could not and helping his Queen find a fairly safe way to regain Naboo’s freedom. I was going to try to speak to Sabé about this before we left Naboo, but then word came about Bail, and I’m afraid that, in the haste to depart, I forgot all about it.

Don’t worry. We can tell Dormé now and she’ll make sure everyone knows who needs to know, just in case he actually is up to something. Alright?

It’ll have to do. Poor Keiana! I do hope the broken nose was the only injury sustained, aside from the deaths of the assassins.

Anakin snickers quietly at that, amused by the quintessentially Obi-Wan nature of that last comment – the seemingly offhanded mention of the assassins offset by the genuine flare of regret for the loss of life – before placing a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly, and replying, I wouldn’t worry, love. You know how much she hated her nose. It’s one of the few things about herself that truly vexed Keiana, because it made it so hard for her security to find handmaids who could easily pass, close up, as Queen Apailana. She’s probably thrilled to have such a good excuse to finally get a surgeon to do something about it, especially considering the fact that her handmaidens were seriously starting to talk about having rhinoplasties themselves, so they could more easily impersonate her successfully, when necessary. She didn’t want them to have to do that and is most likely relieved to have an excuse to take care of the problem herself, since her security kept insisting that they would take care of the problem. She’d feel bad if she knew we were worrying about her just because of her broken nose. Which isn’t to say that she wouldn’t feel bad just to know we were worrying about her or anything, but I’m pretty sure that, since she equates her duties as Queen with our responsibilities as Jedi, it probably doesn’t occur to her that we really would worry about her, at least not any more than any other friend would.

That sounds entirely probable. It doesn’t keep me from hoping that she’s kept the best of her security with her, though. Alderaan is a peaceful planet and, on the off chance that someone should be so foolish as to try anything, we are here to keep such things from actually happening. The Lady Lyxé will be safe enough, even without any of the more talented fighters from among Keiana’s handmaids here to protect her.

I’m sure they realized that, is Anakin’s first thought. Then, frowning slightly, he turns towards Obi-Wan and asks, How many handmaids did Keiana have, the last you heard?

Twenty fully trained – a full class from their training school. Five who look enough like her to pass as Apailana, given proper preparations; seven who resemble her and the other five sufficiently enough to make sure that all handmaidens who appear with the Queen in public essentially all look like sisters or first cousins of Keiana and each other; and eight whose overall qualifications, skills and training, or political connections justify their placement as bodyguards, aides, and general ladies-in-waiting. Given the fact that Naboo has been something of a target since the Trade Federation fiasco, especially since the Clone Wars began, they’ve more than doubled the amount of handmaidens that Panaka originally called for, when he first revived the tradition after Padmé’s election. I believe Keiana hopes to be able to release a few of them altogether, shift a couple of them to positions away from the Theed court, and perhaps convince some of the more gifted to accept court-appointed positions as official handmaiden instructors. Padmé and Sabé meant to eventually establish an official school, of sorts, for handmaidens, but Padmé never had enough handmaids to go around to be able to spare the ones who’d be needed for such a task, and Jamillia’s poor handmaidens were being decimated so badly after the war began that Padmé had to assign some of the young women who’d been recruited to be trained as handmaidens for her to Jamillia instead, so this is the first time that sparing enough fully trained personnel for such a task has become a realistic possibility. The handmaids place themselves in tiers, according to overall ability, as well as accepting classifications based on talent and level of resemblance to their Queen or Senator. Keiana’s handmaidens simply would not fit in with handmaids chosen for Sabé’s or Dormé’s households, nor would they blend in very well with the rather blonde Princess of Theed’s coterie. So even though most of Padmé’s former handmaidens have more experience, it makes more sense to give the task over to some of Keiana’s handmaids.

Others would likely feel overwhelmed by the deluge of information, but Anakin’s used to Obi-Wan’s little lectures, so he just shrugs slightly and grins before noting, Yes, well, be as that it may – and all of the handmaidens I’ve ever met have all struck me as being extremely capable young women, so I’m sure they’ll be able to sort it all out amongst themselves – if Keiana sent about a handful or so of her handmaids here with Lyxé, that still leaves at least a dozen or so to keep her safe. You haven’t seen anything particularly of danger to her or Naboo any time soon, so I’m guessing she’ll be alright for the two weeks or so Lyxé and her entourage will be here. So you can stop fretting any time now, love.

Obi-Wan inclines his head slightly in agreement, smiling ever so slightly in return. Most likely. But I believe I shall reserve my right to “fret” for just a little while longer – at least until I’m told the full contents of the ship’s actual passenger manifest – if that’s all the same to you.

Anakin rolls his eyes at that, unabashedly making an exasperated face. Worrywart.

Obi-Wan merely shrugs slightly, the soft curve of his mouth deepening to a loving smile as he holds Anakin’s gaze. Bratling, he replies, the word less an accusation than a caress.

Anakin instantly beams in satisfaction, the hand he still has resting lightly on Obi-Wan’s left shoulder straying back to Obi-Wan’s lose hair, idly winding a long lock around his fingers as his mouth stretches into a huge grin that flashes his teeth and crinkles his nose and makes him look more like a prankster than a Jedi Bendu Master. Yes, but you still love me.

At that, Obi-Wan’s small smile spreads into an almost mischievous grin. Shall I repeat the same sentiment back to you, then? he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Anakin shakes his head slightly, letting Obi-Wan’s hair slide through his fingers and his hand drift down Obi-Wan’s arm past the wrist, gently grasping and turning Obi-Wan’s hand in his so that he can twine their fingers comfortably together. His expression sobering, Anakin takes half a step forward, shifting around until he’s standing in front of Obi-Wan instead of beside him. Raising his right hand, he then strokes the back of his fingers down Obi-Wan face, calmly but firmly telling him, No. Obi-Wan, you know I love you more than anything, but you worry so much that it frankly worries me. And just because that may seem like an odd thing to say, it doesn’t make it any less true, so don’t go trying to poke holes in my logic, alright? One of these days I need to have a word with Qui-Gon about how much you worry.

Surprise makes Obi-Wan’s eyes widen and then narrow in suspicion as he automatically reaches out along the bond towards their Padawan, checking to see if Bail’s shields are still in place. But Bail is obviously still sleeping, distant and muffled behind the undisturbed layers of his thick shielding. So whatever it is that’s prompted Anakin’s solemnity or his dissatisfaction with Qui-Gon, it’s not anything he could have accidentally or unknowingly picked up from Bail. Confused, Obi-Wan finds himself helplessly (though with a slight edge of exasperation coloring his thoughts) asking, /Are we back to that again? Anakin, Qui-Gon’s a good man. You /know that he is. I don’t know why you’re so unhappy with him, all of a sudden, but –

His grave expression darkening as his hand comes to rest on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, Anakin cuts him off, insisting, It’s not all of a sudden, for one thing. There just wasn’t enough time for it to ever be an issue, before now. Did I ever tell you I used to be able to hear him, sometimes, in my dreams, back before we really started to have missions away from the Temple?

Well and truly adrift by the sudden change in topics and floundering in the wake of Anakin’s sharp retort, Obi-Wan tries to frame a soothing response. Anakin, I’m not sure where you think you’re going with this, or why, but –

Anakin, though, is having none of it, and cuts him off again, bitterness and a trace of lingering hurt rising along the bond as he notes, mockingly, Oddly enough, the good Master Jinn never thought to mention just who Darth Sidious was, back then, either. Nor did it ever come up any of the other times he tried to catch my attention, afterwards, not even when he was lecturing me about duty and morality and what Jedi do and do not do during that solo mission that finally made the Council make me a Knight.

Anakin –

Bitterness and hurt transforming to causticity, Anakin cuts Obi-Wan off again by telling him, quite bluntly, /See, I know he was your Master, and I know you basically loved him like a father – even though Jedi don’t have or really understand families, /per se, and even though the Code and the rules all said that Jedi couldn’t have attachments – but the thing is, Obi-Wan, that I’m just not sure I trust the man. He’s a little too fickle and liable to change his mind, depending on which direction the wind decides to blow at any give time, for my taste.

Anakin –

Anakin waves his right hand (the left still holding tight to Obi-Wan’s hand) dismissively, cutting him off yet again. I know, I know, this isn’t the time or the place, and they’ll be coming back out any time, now. But we’re going to have to talk about this sooner or later, you know. I’m not going to just let it go, even if he was your Master.

Acerbically, Obi-Wan finally manages to retort, And the man who got you off of Tatooine.

Anakin’s fingers instantly tighten around Obi-Wan’s, his other hand sliding back up from Obi-Wan’s shoulder so that he can thread his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair and cup the base of his skull, tilting Obi-Wan’s head up towards him as if for a kiss as he steps closer, pressing forward until they’re nearly chest to chest. Leaving behind my mom, as a slave. And don’t try to tell me he couldn’t’ve brought her with us or at least gotten her free if he’d really wanted to. I’ve seen you help people in a lot worse straits under much more dire circumstances than we were. And one of the first things you did when you got back to the Temple, after Naboo, was get Bail to help you figure out a way to guarantee her freedom without the Council finding out what you were up to, and I know the two of you did it, so don’t give me that line about him doing the best he could in the time he had with the resources at hand. I know better than that, Obi-Wan.

Anakin –

This time his attempted protest isn’t so much cut off as it is simply cut short by shock. Anakin presses forward again, abruptly releasing Obi-Wan’s hand to twine his arm around Obi-Wan’s waist, urging their bodies into a tight clench, his head dropping down over Obi-Wan, the hand at the joint between the back base of his head and the nape of his neck effortlessly holding him in place as Anakin’s mouth descends in an almost aggressive kiss. A flare of all but greedily possessive love and desire sweeps out over the bond and crashes down over him, leaving Obi-Wan dizzily lightheaded, clinging helplessly to Anakin, left hand twisting in Anakin’s robe, right fingers scrabbling at his tunics, trying to find enough purchase to pull them even closer together by raising himself up against Anakin’s body until their legs are straddled, Obi-Wan’s legs parting to allow the press of Anakin’s long thigh in between. Anakin obliges, his left arm lifting slightly as his hips give a rolling dip and snap that ends with Obi-Wan on tiptoe over Anakin’s left thigh. Obi-Wan gasps at the insistent press, breaking off the kiss, the heat of Anakin’s always slightly warmer than normal body flaring like a fire kindling out of banked embers, lapping against Obi-Wan in a wave that leaves him flushed and breathless and almost reeling, clinging to Anakin all but drunkenly, holding on for dear life lest he lose his grip and fall, legs too uncertain and knees too weak to keep him upright without Anakin’s support. Anakin gives him half a moment to try to catch his breath, and then his mouth is plunging back down over Obi-Wan’s still slightly parted lips, using the opening as an invitation to plunder, tongue thrusting forward, ravaging Obi-Wan’s mouth. His knees do try to buckle then, making a noise like a low growl catch in the back of Anakin’s throat as he sags down into the hard press of Anakin’s body, Anakin’s arm growing almost painfully tight around his waist as he pulls Obi-Wan back up over and against him, /hard/, recklessly thrusting forward even as he lifts, so that Obi-Wan gasps again, the thought of where they are finally attempting to penetrate the deepening fog around his mind as the growing heat between them abruptly kindles to power, a bright wash of haloing light (like the aurora around a moon eclipsing its sun) flaring around them. Anakin whips his head back forward (lightning fast, like a striking serpent) and fastens his lips on Obi-Wan’s mouth again almost as soon as the light registers on his senses, though, the heady combination of lips, teeth, and tongue all eating away at Obi-Wan’s mouth instantly driving the only half-formed thought from his mind.

The third kiss, though, is both far too painfully short and much too intensely deep and prolonged. Obi-Wan is less than a heartbeat away from ripping Anakin’s tunics (both in an attempt to pull himself more firmly up over Anakin and just out of a growing need to feel flesh under the palm of his hand, to press skin to skin) when Anakin’s mouth moves into the shape of a snarl and he does growl – an angry, disgusted, rumble of a noise that could never be taken for anything else than what it is – arm and hand tightening on Obi-Wan even as he forces himself to pull his head back away from Obi-Wan’s swollen, kiss-reddened mouth, if only far enough to let his forehead rest heavily against Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan doesn’t catch more than a word in twenty of the flood of thoughts that come pouring out from Anakin then (and not just because he’s too dazed to follow the words, though he does miss the first dozen or so. Anakin, though, apparently knows curses in languages that the Jedi Archives have no record of), and all of what he does catch for several heartbeats amounts to little more than a broken blue streak of cussing. The first full thought that finally resolves, in between a jagged mess of curses – Timing, dammit! Don’t start what you can’t fripping well finish! – bleeds over into the next –/ We will finish this, later!/ – and overlaps another – I’ll figured out this farkled light-show if it frakkin’ well kills me, kark it! – before Anakin finally tilts his head to the side until his forehead slides off of Obi-Wan’s and his left cheekbone nests up against Obi-Wan’s right, his mouth just on a level to exhale a scalding puff of air against Obi-Wan’s earlobe as he whispers, “They’re coming. Let the Force have your desire, for now. I’ll get it back later.”

Obi-Wan begins to try to frame a response, but he seems doomed to repeat Anakin’s name and to get to say very little else, today. “Anakin – ”

“Hush, love. I can hear them moving about in the ship, we’re lit up like a couple of underlevel Coruscanti bar signs, and I know you don’t like having people stare at you. /Release/.”

The sense of absolute command in Anakin’s voice surprises him, and Obi-Wan shocks himself by obeying just as absolutely. He doesn’t so much release his desire as release the whole of himself, the world whiting out around him as he lets go, plummeting effortlessly (down and up and in every direction at once and none at all) into the Force. When he returns to himself (a heartbeat or an eternity later), Anakin’s hands are cupped to the shape of his shoulders, and he finds himself filling the palms of those hands perfectly, though he’s aware that this is not how either of them had been standing, before. He feels . . . calm. Quiet in a way that has nothing to do with silence. Drained, in an odd and utterly unfamiliar fashion, but nonetheless quite serene. The look of almost affronted shock on Anakin’s face strikes him as quietly funny, though, and Obi-Wan smiles, softly, in spite of himself, tilting his head inquiringly to the side and arching an eyebrow at Anakin as if to say, Well, then?

Anakin, though, shocks him again (making a quiet part of his mind tiredly note that he should be used to this, by now) by essentially baring his teeth at him in a look that no one in their right mind would ever take for a real smile – an expression that Obi-Wan recognizes intimately, having seen it on Anakin’s face any number of times, generally in response to a blatant challenge of some sort (usually one involving quite a bit of danger and/or the infliction – not to mention the reception – of bodily harm). “I’ll figure out how you did that, too, eventually. Don’t think you can distract me from doing something I’ve already said I intend to do just by doing something impossible in front of me. We’re still going to have that talk. Eventually. After we get a chance to finish what I so foolishly started out here, where there was no real chance of being able finish. And then we’re going to have a nice chat about you managed to move – while bringing me along for the ride, too, mind – something like ten meters closer to the ship, just by surrendering to the Force. Don’t look so surprised, love. I’ve seen you multitask enough times to’ve figured it out for myself. I can and will find a way to accomplish all three things. Eventually.”

Obi-Wan’s first impulse is to insist that he hasn’t done anything impossible at all and that Anakin is blowing essentially the whole of their little conversation entirely out of proportion with what any part of it merits, but to his considerable shock a quick glance up verifies that they are, indeed, inexplicably somewhere between ten and twelve meters closer to the (Nubian) Nabooian ship than they had been when Captain Novaren left them. Stunned all but speechless, it’s all he can do to frame the warning,/ Other duties come first./

Anakin, though, just gives him the disturbingly feral, shark-like smile that’s more familiar to Obi-Wan from (and which would be much more at home on) the battlefield. Oh, I know, love. I won’t be doing any of what I’m planning to do just now. After all, I can hear them opening the hatch on the ship again. But we /will talk about these things, sooner or later, love. You can count on it,/ Anakin insists, quite firmly, even as he smiles and steps forward, hands extended to the decoy Queen as she makes her way down the ship’s gangway, so that she can unobtrusively brace herself and go on tiptoe at the foot of the ramp to better reach him and so brush the traditional Nabooian kiss of peace across his cheek.

Feeling more than a little shell-shocked, Obi-Wan finds himself promising, /Oh, I will, Anakin, /unable (and unwilling, given Anakin’s seemingly implacable obstinacy on the matter and the disembarking of the passengers from the ship before them) to argue the point any further and suddenly too tired to even want to try, automatically smiling and graciously extending his hands to Dormé as she steps down to Lyxé’s side, her smile looking just as automatic and distracted as his own smiles feels until her blank gaze finally registers his familiar face and the artificiality melts into genuine happiness, distracting him from his gloomily confused thoughts and coaxing a genuine smile from him in return.

***

Dormé Tammesin suffers from a particular form of shyness around Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Logically, she knows that the reaction is entirely ludicrous. She is, in fact, quite painfully aware of just how ridiculous her response to him is. Obi-Wan is easily the most noble, polite, caring, intelligent, and quite simply gentlemanly man she’s ever known. But Dormé came to full awareness of herself both as a woman and as sentient being with free will and the ability to truly affect the lives of those around her in the aftermath of the Trade Federation’s invasion of Naboo, when Obi-Wan had just become the poster boy for the tragic hero and selfless savior of all of the Nabooian people (even the Gungans, as far as she knows), and she finds it somewhat difficult to look the man directly in the eyes (without blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush), knowing what she knows about how so many people (including herself, or so she must admit, if she’s being honest with herself) have so unabashedly worshiped him. Stars alone know why it’s so much easier to look Anakin in the face – the whole of the known galaxy seems to have come of age worshiping (in one way or another) at the altar of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the very real sense of shame that still plagues her conscience (despite his insistence that her guilt is not only misplaced but unwarranted and unwanted by him) over the way she failed to protect him from her Lady can still bring a flush so painful that tears spring to her eyes – though perhaps it’s because she saw him first and foremost as an earnestly sweet (if badly used) child swept up in events much larger than him. But Anakin has always been a friend, someone she could look in the eye without fear of sudden attacks of flesh-prickling, spine-shivering, heat-inducing hyper-awareness of an odd mixture of personal power and responsibility, (at least potentially mutual) desirability, and a painfully embarrassed and embarrassing impulse to drop to her knees and press her forehead to the floor at Obi-Wan’s feet in abject veneration.

Of course, it probably doesn’t help any that essentially all of Padmé Amidala’s former handmaidens are at least half in love (and deeply fascinated) with the man, given their (former, Force/, she /still hasn’t quite gotten used to that) Lady’s entirely unabashed love for Obi-Wan. But that doesn’t keep Dormé from feeling a shameful rush of relief when Keiana Apailana’s decoy Queen politely asks Bendu Master Kenobi if she might beg the indulgence of a private audience. Anakin gives her a slightly puzzled look when her shoulders sag (though she would’ve sworn, if asked, that the movement was too infinitesimal even for a Jedi to catch), as Obi-Wan escorts the Queen’s First and the majority (with some remaining behind to oversee the offloading of their considerable luggage, of course) of both her entourage and Dormé’s (Dormé having immediately similarly asked for a word alone with Master Skywalker and her security having wisely come to the conclusion that the Hero With No Fear would be sufficient to keep her safe on Alderaan) off towards the Palace, but Dormé has a feeling that Anakin wouldn’t be all that amused to find out that his former wife helped facilitate a (probably at least slightly unhealthy) level of (unarguably somewhat obsessed) fascination with his beloved, so she just asks him to come walk with her in the gardens and raises an eyebrow at him when the question makes him smirk, prompting him to tell her about Mon Mothma and the plans they’ve been working on. She’s sufficiently impressed by the level of success they’ve achieved in their planning sessions that she (mostly) manages to ignore the slight twinge of envy that the news Mon Mothma has essentially become a part of Obi-Wan and Anakin’s family elicits. She lets him talk until he runs out of words and then continues to walk with him for a time, comfortable and increasingly relaxed in his presence, until they reach a spectacularly lovely fountain in the gardens, at which point she takes a seat on a nearby bench underneath a small weeping tree overgrown with a riot of red, trumpet-shaped, flowering vine, content just to sit and bask in the beauty of the fountain and the day.

Anakin slides with seemingly boneless grace onto the sun-warmed marble bench beside her, long legs stretched out in a sinfully comfortably looking sprawl, leaning back on his elbows. Several minutes later, he finally asks, “So, are you going to tell me what’s got you so upset, or am I going to have to try to do Jedi mind tricks and keep failing at it because of how strong-minded you are until you finally take pity on me?”

She surprises herself with a delighted little laugh, turns to see Anakin flipping a loosely spiraling golden curl back out of his eyes, and shocks herself by suddenly seeing that sun-kissed and softly smiling bronze face (with features just as familiar and well-loved to her as if they were those of a beloved younger brother) suddenly contorted with pain and rage, scarred and scared as she has not seen him since before Sidious’ demise, dark blue eyes a hard, sickly, bestial yellow that feels like the touch of death itself upon her skin. Dormé’s still recoiling in shock when that animalistic gold melts back to a blue so dark it almost appears black, features contorted with fury transforming into a paroxysm of pleasure, eyes sliding shut as he leans in for a kiss, Obi-Wan (moon-pale and luminous with love, glimmering eyes the color of the sky at twilight, lips kiss-bruised, passion swollen, and wine red) rising like a ghost to meet him halfway in an embrace so close there is room for not even a thought between them. Her surprised flinch backwards collides head-on with a stunned waver sideways, and only Anakin’s hands closing hastily with borderline painful strength on her shoulders keeps her from tumbling off of the bench altogether. Her head spins, feeling his hands on her shoulders (so tight the bones grate, so tight she hears the bones grinding together) but unable to see him as he must be, lunging across the bench to catch her, her eyes filled with the sight of Anakin and Obi-Wan kissing as though in an attempt to become one being permanently by fusing at the lips and pressing close until their bodies slip the bounds of the physical and slide entirely one into the other. She cries out something, unable to hear herself over the roaring of blood in her ears, and shuts her eyes, trying to shut out the sight before it can undo her entirely, but the two men are branded onto her retinas. They blaze against her eyelids – one golden as a sun, one pale as a star-kissed moon, both more (hurtfully) brilliant and sharper (liable to slice a viewer to pieces) than (jagged-edged, knife-like) diamonds – pressing endlessly close and impossibly closer until they finally ignite in a blaze of light that leaves her blinded, reeling drunkenly, alone, in darkness.

***

There’s something just a little bit unsettling about the sight of so many identically dressed young brown-haired, brown-eyed women, so many of whom look like and yet not like Padmé, Dormé, Sabé, variations in facial features and facial shapes that make him ache, tiredly, to close his eyes and shut out the sight of them and the memories they keep wanting to evoke. Obi-Wan finds himself suddenly exhausted and sorrowful as he escorts the Queen’s First, with her handful of handmaiden companions, and the ten handmaids and handmaiden candidates for Dormé and perhaps even Sabé, to the Alderaanian Royal Palace. Even Lyxé Barakis and her five chaperons remind him of Padmé: the gown Lyxé is wearing is an indigo and periwinkle copy of the gown Padmé wore to Qui-Gon’s funeral, while the handmaids clustered around her are wearing the same somber colors that other handmaidens once wore during Padmé’s brief stay to attempt to persuade the Senate to help free Naboo from the Trade Federation as well as during Qui-Gon’s funeral. Even the briefest glance away half convinces him that, when he looks back, he will be back on Naboo again, preparing for his Master’s funeral, Sabé unabashedly watching him with red-rimmed, soulful dark eyes and Padmé hiding heartbreak behind her own dark eyes, begging him silently for forgiveness. It’s a relief when they finally arrive at the wing of suites set aside for the Nabooian dignitaries and make it into the enormous sitting room attached to Lyxé’s suite, for the young ladies immediately relax their hitherto rigidly correct postures, handmaidens removing their voluminous capes and gratefully settling down on softly cushioned chairs and sofas while Lyxé motions to Yané to help her out of her headdress. Tea arrives almost instantly, its soothing scent and warmth helping to calm his frazzled nerves, and he feels almost human again when Lyxé settles down on the small couch beside him, her face newly scrubbed, darkly golden skin more like Anakin’s than Keiana Apailana’s when freed from the makeup.

“How may I help you, Milady?” he asks, able to summon an almost genuine smile as he sets the mostly empty teacup back on its saucer.

“Master Bendu – forgive me, Obi-Wan – ” she corrects herself with a bright smile, seeing his arched eyebrow, “in part I simply wanted to give Lady Tammesin the chance to speak with Master Skywalker. She desperately needs someone to speak to who isn’t directly involved in her security, and Anakin has been a good friend, so we decided, amongst ourselves,” Lyxé explains, gesturing towards Yané and Saché and the other handmaidens, “to give them some time together. I hope you don’t mind. I do have another reason for asking for an audience,” she quickly adds.

“That’s fine,” Obi-Wan reassures her, his smile softening in the face of her anxiousness. “Anakin will be glad to help in whatever way he can. As shall I,” he adds firmly. Lyxé, though, is uncharacteristically silent, shifting slightly, uneasily, on the sofa and looking down at her hands for several long moments instead of replying. Obi-Wan is about to reach out and touch her hand when she looks up, a look of such obvious unhappiness and discomfit on her face that he finds himself leaning forward and carefully cupping both of his hands around hers. “Milady, I assure you, I will be happy to help in whatever way I can. Whatever it is, you may ask without fear of giving offense.”

“I am . . . uncomfortable asking this of you. Forgive me, Obi-Wan. Keiana said that you wouldn’t mind, but I find that I mind very much, for your sake,” Lyxé finally hesitantly explains, stammering slightly and doubtlessly coloring enough under his concerned look that the flush would show clearly against her golden skin, if not for her white mask of elaborate court paint. “The fact is we are having something of a problem knowing with whom we should place some of these bright young ladies. Most of them were chosen for their compatibility with Milady Amidala and her staff. Lady Dormé refuses to cooperate, Lady Sabé isn’t sure she should be accepting any handmaidens who don’t have sufficient strength in the Force to qualify for training, and the truth of the matter is that we handmaids do everything we can to simply not be truly seen by others, so as long as there’s a certain similarity of things such as eye color and hair color – things that can always be adjusted cosmetically, easily enough, if necessary – and we all have close enough to the same basic body type, we can still do our duty, whether we have truly similar features and heights or not. The elaborate makeup and wardrobe of our Queen or Senator and the power associated with those positions simply overwhelms most individuals, who won’t see beyond the flashy surface to little things like the fine details of facial features, unless there is something truly glaringly obviously off. These ten brave young women volunteered to undergo handmaiden training for Milady Amidala, and most of them know very little either of Lady Dormé or Lady Sabé. They’re all willing to go to whichever household they would be more suited for and whichever has the most need for them, but to be honest, none of us are sure that we trust in our objectivity, this close to losing Milady Amidala. Especially not since Lady Sabé told us that you’ve had a vision about the shape of Naboo’s future.”

Obi-Wan blinks, startled and a little dismayed by the revelation that Sabé and the others are apparently afraid of somehow doing something that will upset or invalidate the visions of the possible futures he’s seen for Naboo. “Oh, dear! They’re not that kind of vision. Far-sight visions are glimpses into the most probable of all possible futures, based on the shape of the past and the events unfolding in the present. They aren’t absolute or set in stone, ladies. The present becomes the past from moment to moment, adding to and changing the shape of the past with each passing moment. This is why the Jedi Order has, so far as I know, always taught that the future is forever in motion, its specifics difficult to see with any real accuracy. The future is fluid enough that it’s constantly changing in its smaller details. It’s the greater events – occurrences with consequences that will impact a great number of lives and so set into motion a ripple of effect that will continue to affect others and so cause the most change to the shape of the ever evolving present – that tend to accrue enough potential momentum that they can only be turned aside or diffused at great cost and effort. As long as there are individuals in power on Naboo and in the Senate who are willing to fight for the kind of future I’ve seen in my far-sight visions, odds are that this future will come about, sooner or later, in one form or another, simply because there will be enough of us working towards that goal to give it that kind of inevitable, unstoppable momentum. It tends to matter less who’s doing the pushing and where those individuals are providing that pressure as long as there are sufficient present working all together (whether they know it or not) towards a tipping point, their energies providing a sort of critical mass for a specific reaction. I am convinced that there will be enough of us working towards this future to see to it that it becomes a reality. As long as you all remain willing to do your duty not only as handmaidens but also as citizens of the New Alliance of the Republic and continue to support the best interests of your people by protecting and aiding and supporting your Queen and your Senator, I’m quite sure that none of you need to worry about somehow accidentally adversely affecting the shape of the future. So long as enough of us are working towards it, the general shape of the future will take care of itself and the finer details will, as always, fall out as they will. Please, believe me when I tell you that you needn’t trouble yourselves about this. Worry too much about the future and you’ll accomplish nothing but to freeze yourself in the present until you end up bringing about what you most fear through simple inaction,” Obi-Wan quickly explains, making sure to both catch and hold (if only for a few heartbeats) the gaze of every handmaid and potential handmaiden in the room and to infuse his voice with both as much reassurance and as much persuasive command as he can, in order to drive both parts of his point home for all of the young women present who might be affected by this. Most of the new handmaiden candidates, he’s a bit surprised to note, seem inordinately flustered when Obi-Wan looks them in the eye, and he finds himself wondering, with more than a little apprehension, whether or not it may have been possible for someone inside the ship to have seen him, when Anakin took him in that ill-timed, desperate embrace. They don’t seem to be embarrassed, though, so much as they simply seem to be terribly shy – which frankly makes him wonder just what kind of stories Padmé’s former handmaidens and the current Queen of Naboo have been telling these young ladies, for surely if they’ve gone through training they can’t help but to know better than to take the HoloNet reports on him and Anakin too seriously . . .

Lyxé’s unabashedly relieved sigh, paired with a smile that lights up her face and all but makes the young girl glow (and in a far different manner than the ghostly pale mask of her court cosmetics do), distracts Obi-Wan before he can decide what, if anything, it might be appropriate to do to try to diffuse some of that unexpected and awkward timidity. Beaming, she tells him, with fervent thankfulness, “That is an immensely relieving thing to know. /Thank you/, Master Obi-Wan. This will make things ever so much easier, for us.”

“I’m pleased to be of service,” Obi-Wan can’t help but smile back at her. Lyxé has been blessed with an infectious smile, and, given that she already looks so much like a darker version of her elder sister, Surana – a former handmaid and body double of Chanté, the Princess of Theed after Ellie (and Ellie’s younger sister, who was unfortunately killed in office during her second year), and now (since Surana’s undergone a reversal of the procedure that created a dimple in her chin, so she would look more like Chanté) a handmaiden and occasional body double of Ellie, herself, who, despite her frail health, still works diligently as an advisor to the royal court – there isn’t a doubt in his mind that Lyxé will be an extremely beautiful woman some day quite soon, just like her sister, and likely break more than a few hearts, too, given her status as a handmaiden. While she’s still smiling at him, he genially explains, “And while I can’t help but think it might be best to simply assign the new handmaidens according to their preferences and specific talents, I understand that this is a trying time for everyone. If every young lady involved will give her consent and if you would like me to, I could use the Force to take a closer look at each one, individually, and so get a feel for the overall sense or feel of that person in the Force – her Force-aura, so to speak – and see if there’s anything that would seem to me to suit that individual more for a match with either Sabé or Dormé.”

Before he has even had time to finish making his offer, the ten young women in question have all neatly lined themselves up in a row in front of him. Lyxé smiles, her gaze unabashedly proud as it passes over that row, murmurs something about the trainees apparently being willing, and then rattles off their names for him, from left to right: Ché Llacharn; Missé Kevarydd; Chloé Alaunos; Maighé Meharrion; Cissé Hannieca; Merlé Talsun; Brighé Nunarnia; Lanné Jamdarien; Joilé Kincaer; and Marté Novaren. They’ve arranged themselves into two groups – the four who finished their training prior to Padmé’s and the six who were about to finish their training when she was killed – in order within each group from youngest to oldest. When Padmé had first been elected Queen and Captain Panaka talked her into reinstating the handmaid program as part of her protective detail, she’d insisted that handmaidens must be within three years of age of their Queen (and, later, Senator), and this rule that had been adhered to since then (by Padmé, Sabé, and even the other two Nabooian Queens) with only a very few exceptions, so the young women in question are all around the same age. Padmé hadn’t quite been twenty-eight when she was killed, as her birthday wasn’t until 5 Relona (a date not too recently past, though it came nearly a month after her death, this year), while Sabé would have her twenty-ninth birthday on 20 Welona and Dormé wouldn’t be turning twenty-eight until the fifth day of Elona, the first month of the coming year. To Obi-Wan, the differences in age (Sabé being not quite a year older than Padmé, with Dormé only being about two months younger than Padmé) seem slight enough that it likely won’t inhibit the ability of any of the ten women standing before him to impersonate either Sabé or Dormé. Ché Llacharn and Cissé Hannieca are the youngest: Cissé won’t turn twenty-six until Tapani Day of the coming year, in between the second and third months, while Ché will turn twenty-six at the end of this coming Welona. Maighé Meharrion and Marté Novaren are the eldest: Maighé will be thirty-one next Productivity Day, in between months five and six, while Marté just turned thirty this past Harvest Day, in between the eighth and ninth months. They tell him so, each nodding to acknowledge her name when Lyxé states it and then quietly adding her birthday, just in case the knowledge might help him to sort them out.

It’s nice of them to want to help, but Obi-Wan is frankly less concerned about their ages than he is with what they look like, physically, whether or not (and among whom) they seem to have formed ties among themselves that shouldn’t be broken, and what they feel like, to him, in the Force. There are indeed ways to make the individual handmaidens look more like each other and their Lady – dyes, cosmetics, and simple makeup; clothing and shoes with varying heel size and sole thickness as well as similar hair styles; even, in the case of Queen Apailana, the use of prosthetic noses, to give the handmaidens a nose shaped more like hers and so recast the features of the face overall in a more Hannieca mold – and Obi-Wan is aware that some of the handmaids have even resorted to small, relatively simple, largely cosmetic medical procedures, either to get rid of or to add dimples, reshape noses, subtly alter the shape of cheekbones and jaw lines, or adjust for heights that fell short of their Lady by taking carefully calculated and measured doses of growth hormones (though in Padmé’s case, it had actually been the Lady who’d taken some of the growth hormone, after she’d stopped growing just after her fifteenth birthday and all of her original handmaidens had kept growing until they were noticeably taller than her. She’d actually gone behind the backs of her handmaids to arrange to become most of a handbreadth taller, and some of her handmaids had still been taller than she’d ended up being, causing her to complain, jokingly, that she was surrounded by young giants). Since everyone on Naboo had already known what pale Eirtaé looked like and expected to see the blonde, blue-eyed handmaiden in Amidala’s court, Rabé was actually the first of Padmé’s handmaidens to have such a procedure done, taking advantage of the confusion surrounding the Trade Federation’s removal from the planet to order herself an otoplasty without Padmé’s knowledge of the procedure (since, at that point, Padmé had still been very much against the idea of her handmaids having such procedures done to make them look more like her), to bring her ears in closer to her head and so allow her to wear some of the tighter hoods and wraps that the handmaidens used without having to worry about her more prominent ears giving her identity away.

To Obi-Wan, though, it seems silly to make the handmaidens feel as though it would be necessary for them to undergo such procedures (though he understands that, in the long run, it is quite simply much safer for women whose job includes being able to impersonate and/or help conceal the identity of a Queen or Senator for that Lady’s own protection to use more permanent and therefore much less easily discoverable means of making themselves look a certain way, and he also knows that such procedures are, technically, reversible at any time by way of another of the same kind of procedure, should any handmaiden ever need or wish to retire from duty and go back to the way she’d originally looked) if the need for such things could be avoided entirely by simply placing them with a Lady who those handmaids more closely resemble in the first place. When they were originally chosen as the handmaidens who would be decoy Queens, Sabé and Dormé had, in their own way, both resembled Padmé closely enough to stand in as the Queen. As Dormé had finished growing, though, her face gradually took on a distinctively different cast that eventually made it all but impossible for her to continue safely impersonating her Queen (and, later, Senator). By that time, though, there were other more suitable candidates on hand to play the decoy, and so Padmé had requested that Dormé forgo any surgeries to make her look more like Padmé. So while Sabé is still an extremely close match for Padmé (aside from the difference in height), Dormé doesn’t truly resemble either woman, except for in the vaguest, most general of ways (i.e., they’re all brunette, brown-eyed, small-boned and slender, etc.). Thus, it makes more sense for the potential handmaidens who look more like Padmé in the same way that Sabé always has to become Sabé’s handmaids while the rest become Dormé’s, if possible. Handmaidens often operate in pairs, though, and, because their lives are devoted to their Ladies first, to each other second, and to themselves as individuals last of all, they often form extremely strong ties and even pair bonds among each other. It would never do to separate those whose bonds have already grown to a certain strength, so the ties the women had forged among themselves will also affect how they’ll be assigned, as will what the Force reveals about their basic natures.