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Imperial City, Coruscant
"Lainey, you are so boring!" Miranda announced, entering their dorm room and bouncing on the bed next to where Lainey lay. "Just what have you done all day?"
"Just finishing my History homework - an essay on how Master Skywalker’s joining of the Rebellion was the turning point in the war," Lainey replied. "Did you know he was trained by both Obi-Wan Kenobi and Master Yoda?"
"Yeah." Miranda gave her a weird look. "Everyone does."
Lainey frowned, pulling herself up into a sitting position. "Well, I didn’t." Lainey drew her knees to her chest, and rested her chin on them. If the book hadn’t mentioned that they’d both died over twenty years ago, she would have sworn she had once known them. She closed her eyes, allowing vague memories to drift through her mind:
As head of the Council, and the first Seer in over a hundred years, Master Yoda had been marked for being strict, and having a strong relationship with the Force. His backwards way of speaking Basic added a cryptic quality to his words, hinting at hidden meanings in every praise and admonishment.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had been handsome, arrogant, and reckless in his youth, growing up into a somewhat unorthodox Jedi Master. He often debated the more vague points of the code, following in his former Master’s, Qui-Gon Jinn’s footsteps. He took on a Padawan, practically before he was Knighted, at the request of his dying Master. While he was a very good General, he was an inexperienced Master. Because of this, he shouldn’t have taken on the powerful and emotionally scarred Padawan, Anakin Skywalker.
Lainey shuddered, remembering the consequences that Anakin being trained had led to...
"Lainey!" Miranda said, shaking her. "Hello?"
Lainey blinked, trying to recapture the thoughts that had just run through her mind. Something about consequences...
"Lainey!" Miranda repeated. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," Lainey replied, massaging her forehead. "I just spaced out for a second. Sorry. What were you saying?"
Miranda frowned. "Only that you really should come to the State Dinner tonight!"
"No." Lainey shook her head. "I can’t dance either and-"
A knock on the door interrupted her sentence. Then she heard Master Horn’s voice. "Lainey? Are you in there?"
"Yes, come in!" Lainey called, darting a ‘what’s he doing here’ glance at Miranda.
The door slid open admitting Corran Horn. "Hello ladies," he greeted them with a smile, then focused his attention on Lainey. "What are you doing just lounging around in your jumpsuit, Lainey? The State Dinner starts in only two hours! You whined when I only gave you ten minutes to get dressed for a meeting..."
"Master!" Lainey interrupted him. "I’m not going..."
"What do you mean you’re ‘not going’?" Corran strode over to her bed and grabbed her arm. "How am I supposed to show off my Padawan if you don’t?"
"Master," Lainey protested as he pulled her off her bed. "I have nothing to wear and..."
"What’s wrong with what you have on?" Corran asked, giving her an appraising look. "It looks good on you."
Lainey flushed. "It’s not formal enough for one thing."
"So?" Corran pulled her towards the door. "Mirax will make your hair all fancy and no one will notice."
"They will too," Lainey objected.
"Well, then you should let go of your pride." Corran winked at her. "Come on Lainey, I won’t take no for an answer."
"Master, I can’t!" she exclaimed. As he dragged her out of her room and into the hall, she waved feebly to Miranda, who had a huge grin on her face. Annoyed, Lainey turned to face her Master. "I have a paper to finish, you know."
"You can do it tomorrow," Corran assured her.
"But..."
"No more ‘buts’," Corran said mock sternly. "I’m beginning to think you don’t want to be seen in public with your old Master."
"It’s not that," Lainey said, instantly feeling bad. "It’s just that..." She sighed. "Never mind." She straightened her shoulders. "If you want me to go in this." She looked down at her rumpled dark green jumpsuit. "I will."
Corran smiled and dropped an arm around her to squeeze her shoulders. "You’re too good to me." He guided her to his apartment and palmed the door open. They stepped into the living room where Corran released Lainey and strode over to the couch, lifting a dress up. "What do you think of this?" he asked her, holding it up so she could get a good view. It was made of a soft purple satin, with a scooped neck, short sleeves, and a split skirt. Tiny flowers trailed the neckline and sections of the skirt where it split.
"It’s beautiful," Lainey breathed. "Is it Mirax’s?"
Corran glanced at it. "It’s a little small for her, I think." He walked over to Lainey and held it up to her. "But I think it would fit you just right." He smiled at her. "It’s yours if you want it."
"Oh, Master," Lainey said softly, uncertain of what to say. "Thank you," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, squishing the dress between them. "It’s perfect."
"Good." Corran hugged her back, then gently pushed her away. "Now, go put it on. We only have." He glanced at his wrist chronometer. "One hour and forty five minutes until the State Dinner starts!"
"Master, that’s plenty of time..." Lainey said, but Corran was pushing her towards the refresher.
"I won’t have you complaining I don’t give you enough time to get dressed again."
***
The State Dinner was held in the Mayan Ballroom of The Mayan Hotel. The walls were made completely out of transparisteel, giving an excellent view of the outside botanical gardens. Stake lights illuminated the white stone garden paths and benches. The vaunted ceiling was painted to resemble the night sky, using tiny white lights and crystal chandeliers to represent the stars. Round tables with colorful flower arrangements placed in the center were set up all along the edge of the room, circling the light greystone dance floor. The guests arrived in their best dresses and suits, being led to their tables or conversing in circles with friends.
Corran Horn arrived with Mirax on his right side, and Lainey on his left. Earlier, on the way up, he’d mentioned that he was going to be the envy of all the men at the State Dinner, having the most beautiful women on his arms. Snuggling up to him, Mirax had laughed, muttering something about ‘smooth talking Corsec officers'; Lainey just shook her head, pink touching her cheeks.
Lainey had had no idea how well known her Master was, until he decided to introduce her to all of his friends. Most of them slap-hugged Corran, kissed Mirax’s cheek and pumped Lainey’s hand. A couple of them, Wes and Hobbie she believed, expressed their condolences for her having to put up with him.
Finally, just before President Fey’lya stood up to welcome everyone, they sat down. Seated at the table already were Luke and Mara Skywalker, Han and Leia Solo, Anakin Solo and Tahiri Veila, Miranda Sierr, and Julie Daris and Nic Previn. The President gave a long speech on how the New Republic had been able to keep peace for the past four months, and mentioned the Jedi were a great assistant to the war effort. He asked Master Skywalker to stand, who reluctantly rose to his feet to accept the loud applause, and when it finally died down, President Fey’lya ended his speech by telling everyone to enjoy their evening.
Lainey basically stayed out of the dinner conversation, though she would lean her ear towards Miranda whenever her friend made a sly comment, and laugh accordingly. Leia Solo was discussing the predatory politics of the annual State Dinner to a somewhat disinterested Han, while Luke and Mara spoke in soft voices that Lainey couldn’t pick up.
Soon, soft music pervaded the room. Since the State Dinner was in honor of the Jedi, the dancing opened with Luke and Mara Jade Skywalker. Corran and Mirax soon followed, with Corran telling Lainey over his shoulder to save a dance for him. Their table emptied rather quickly, until only Julie and Nic remained with Lainey and Miranda. Julie kept commenting on the dancers, throwing out some painfully obvious hints that she wanted him to ask her. Nic, oblivious as ever, offered a running commentary on who represented which planet.
Lainey sensed the approach of the young men even before she felt the tap on her arm. She turned to find a young human male, with curly light brown hair and eyes. Barely taller than she, he offered a cocky, half grin. "You wanna dance?" he asked, extending his hand.
She blinked at him. "I don’t know how..." But he had a hold of her hand and was dragging her out of her chair.
"Then you’re lucky to be with me," he said proudly, puffing out his chest.
Lainey just shook her head and allowed herself to be led out onto the dance floor.
***
As soon as the dancing had started, Armand Naberrie immediately excused himself from his table to seek out President Borsk Fey’lya. Dinner had been pleasant up until the point when two senators started arguing heatedly about who was getting more supplies from the New Republic, and then which world had given more to the war effort. Armand’s years of diplomatic training kicked in, causing him to smooth the argument over before he could pause to think about what he was doing.
His instant action warranted several uncomfortable questions from his dinner companions, inquiring about his line of work, and how a spaceship mechanic had acquired diplomatic skills. Armand simply explained that since he had the role of supervisor, he had to deal with angry customers, and that diplomacy was the only way to quell them.
Armand could tell his companions were still skeptical about him, though Taren Lunceford immediately changed the subject from him. Figuring that their next lines of thought would be that he was too polite to be a space mechanic, he tried slouching his posture and resting his elbows on the table. After about a minute he grew disgusted with himself and straightened his back and removed his elbows. Armand caught his bodyguard, Pavol Drian, smirking at this, and grinned in return. Deciding he’d rather not look so foolish again, he maintained his manners and let his dinner companions think whatever they wished of him.
The President wasn’t hard to find, surrounded by his mostly Bothan advisors and other power seeking politicians. Armand walked over to him, keeping his back straight and jaw set, assuming his "absolutely in control" position. While he had to show the President respect, he could not allow himself to show any hint of inferiority. Mainly because he didn’t think of himself inferior to anyone, and because he was representing Naboo.
Armand dropped a crisp, formal bow as he approached the President. "President Fey’lya," he greeted Borsk, straightening up to meet the Bothan’s eye. "I am Armand Naberr, speaking on behalf of the people of New Naboo-"
"Are you sent by Baron Lairde Batista?" Borsk broke in, annoyed by this boy’s interruption of his informal meeting.
Armand blinked at the President’s rude statement, but showed no other sign of irritation. "No, I’m afraid what I have to say is not favorable to Baron Batista."
"Then you may register a complaint through the proper channels," Fey’lya told him calmly. "In case it escaped your notice, I am very busy right now, and cannot-"
"Proper channels?" Armand asked, incredulity raising his tone. "I believe this problem is important enough to bring straight to your attention, Mr. President."
Borsk spread his furry arms. "Every complaint holder does. With the responsibilities of rebuilding the New Republic Government, I am unable to listen to every dissatisfied citizen."
Armand tried to fight his rising temper, but it leaked out through his retort, frosting his words. "Then you would sacrifice your people’s welfare for your Government." Armand’s dark eyes turned hard. "You should know it is not only the Naboo that are suffering, but the refugees as well. Resources sent by the New Republic are being withheld from them to ensure the Baron’s abundant wealth. You would be wise to investigate matters before mine is the first complaint of a thousand."
"Time allowing, I will see what I can do, as yours is the first complaint I’ve received," Borsk replied smoothly, his glinting eyes betraying his tone. "Goodnight, Mr. Naberr," he said in dismissal.
"Goodnight, Mr. President," Armand said coolly, turning on his heel and walking away from the group. Frustration mingled with anger colored his cheeks. He had never been so rudely brushed aside in his entire life, being treated like... a regular citizen. He let out a long breath, blowing some of his frustration with it. He was selfish in wanting the anonymity being a regular citizen offered, but at the same time demanding the respect and importance his position warranted him. This thought subdued his anger a little, but could not change the disinterest Borsk held towards the fate of the New Naboo people. Deciding a walk would do him and his temper some good, he stepped out of the lavishly decorated ballroom, and into the boring, but brightly lit hallway.
***
While the young man, Dane, was a good dancer, Lainey was uncomfortable with his style. He had a tendency to pull her too close, and when he rested his head on her shoulder, she thought she felt him kiss the skin left bare by the scooped neck of her dress. She immediately drew back, insisting that he teach her a few more steps of the Coruscant Swing. Dane grinned at her resistance, and led her into a couple of spins before pulling her close once more and pressing his stubble covered cheek next to her soft one.
Admittedly, Lainey would have been more comfortable with the situation if it weren’t for the fact that at any moment Corran Horn could notice the way she was dancing, and that she simply wasn’t attracted to Dane. A brief image of a tall young man with dark brown eyes and cultured accent flashed through her mind, reminding her of the one person to whom she wouldn’t mind dancing close, Armand Naberr. Ever since she’d met him for that one brief moment at the Spaceport, a day hadn’t gone by when she didn’t think of him. It had to be the fact that he was irresistibly handsome and incredibly or unbelievably nice that he had had such an effect on her. The way his gaze seemed to pierce through her soul when their eyes first met. Distantly she became aware of the dying notes of the third song she had danced with Dane. Immediately she released herself from her partner’s grip, pleading that she had promised to meet a friend soon.
Lainey forcefully slowed her steps to a dignified fast pace towards the exit doors, favoring the sanctity of the outside hallway to running into Dane once more. The Doormen opened the doors for her on her approach, and she stepped through, without glancing back at the ballroom. Once the doors closed behind her, Lainey leaned against them with a sigh. She wished she had been able to tell Dane "no" or to have pulled away more forcefully from him when they danced. It made her feel weak, and wonder what she would do if a man ever tried to violate her. What if she just let him do it?
A bright presence in the Force startled her out of her thoughts as approaching footsteps broke the hallways relative silence. Startled, Lainey turned her head in the direction of the noise, and her breath caught in her throat.
It was Armand.
His eyes fell on her, and his lips curved into a warm smile when he recognized her. "Lainey!" He greeted her, stepping quickly over to her and taking her hand. Lainey expected him to shake it, but he raised it to his lips for a soft kiss. His dark brown eyes sought hers. "You look lovely tonight."
"Thank you, Armand," Lainey stuttered out in her attempt to be regal. "I like your..." She glanced at his somewhat worn black suit. "Eyes," she said quickly, her cheeks warming into a rosy red color.
Armand grinned at her compliment, taking no other acknowledgment of it. "So," he said, offering her his arm and leading her away from the door when she took it. "What are you doing out in the hallway, when all the excitement is going on in the ballroom?"
"Avoiding someone," Lainey answered truthfully, amazed at how easily she admitted this to him, and how...comfortable she felt around this practically stranger. "What about you?"
"Venting frustration," Armand admitted, raising an eyebrow at her. "We make an interesting pair, don’t you think?"
Lainey cocked her head curiously. "How so?"
"We both left the crowded ballroom because certain people annoyed us, only to run into each other in the hallway. Interesting coincidence, don’t you think?"
"There is no such thing," Lainey replied automatically.
Armand smiled. "I knew you would say that. So, Miss Jedi, what would you call it?"
Lainey froze, considering his question. The sparkle in his eyes suggested teasing, but his sense in the Force was vaguely serious. Lainey studied his face, and the feelings his smile and closeness to her evoked. When they first met she had felt drawn to him, but with aid of the Force, it magnified the feeling tenfold. This time she could feel him, she almost had to build mental shields to still the dizzying effect he had on her. His physical attractiveness was distracting enough, without being able to sense the warmth of his soul and intent of his heart. Realizing she had been silent long enough, she raised her eyes to meet his, taking in the electricity such contact emitted. "I want to say fate," she told him, completely at ease speaking openly to him. That was another one of his endearing qualities, the ability to make someone feel completely comfortable with him. "But fate is the driving force of cheesy holo romance films, which, in my opinion, is a thing of the past, also only found in holo-vids."
"What is, fate, or romance?" Armand asked, turning her back around towards the ballroom as they reached the end of the hall.
"Romance," Lainey clarified for him. "Fate is a thing made real only by those who believe in it."
"Interesting opinion," Armand commented. "But I must disagree with you on romance being a thing of the past and found only in holo-vids. It can be found in every real life love story, and lasting marriage."
"But there are no ‘Knights in Shining Armor’," Lainey countered.
"There can be, if you like," Armand said simply.
Lainey gave him a sly smile. "Would that be your role in this fate driven hall encounter?"
Armand shook his head. "Being the Jedi, I believe the role of Knight fits you."
Lainey laughed out loud. "And what would that make you, the damsel, no, man in distress?"
"No," Armand replied, stopping their stroll outside the ballroom, where slow, but beautiful music filtered through the doors. "More like the Handsome Prince."
"One step above the White Knight, you think very highly of yourself," Lainey observed with a wink. "But I can’t think of many fairytales where the Knight in Shining Armor falls for the Handsome Prince."
Armand smiled and touched her cheek. "Hopefully it will happen in ours."
Lainey flushed, her eyes once again meeting his. She wondered if there was another sight in the Galaxy she’d longed to look at and study more. "You’re such a charmer."
Armand grinned and puffed out his chest. "Then you may call me Prince Charming."
Before Lainey could return his smile, her ear started ringing. She raised her hand to rub at her ear, annoyed at the ringing's ability to ‘break the moment.’
Armand looked at her, concern sculpting his features. "What’s wrong?"
"Nothing," Lainey assured him. "My ear is ringing."
"That means someone is thinking about you," Armand informed her.
"I wonder who," Lainey mused, casting a suspicious glance towards the ballroom door, Dane’s cocky smile entering her mind.
Armand took her hand in his, bringing her attention back to him. "He’s wondering if you’d like to dance," he said, kissing her hand.
"Yes," Lainey said, struck almost speechless at his ability to recapture the ‘moment’ with his words. She wrapped her arm around his neck as his arm found her waist. He pulled her close, but left enough room for maneuverability. Lainey actually wouldn’t have minded if he did hold her any closer, he had such a positive effect on her, where Dane had a negative. Lainey hadn’t been able to find the right words to describe her feelings for Armand. They were completely foreign to her, but wonderful nevertheless.
Magic came to mind. It was the way people who didn’t understand the Force described it. It was also the word used to describe the supernatural, the exciting, sometimes terrifying when associated with the word "dark." It was a word that gave meaning to the unexplainable, and the only thing she could think of to describe the way she felt for Armand. Later, after many sleepless nights, and hours that could not pass without her thinking of him, she might attribute the word love to the way she felt about him. But for now, magic sufficed.
Armand led her into simple steps, testing her ability over favoring the desire to "show off" as Dane had. Armand’s lead was easier to follow, even as their steps grew more complicated. They were able to communicate with each other though they used no spoken words. Their conversation consisted of eye contact, smiles and touches.
The music flowing from the ballroom filled the silence. The couple was only aware of it enough to step in time to it, and soon all awareness of it ceased when Armand drew Lainey close to him, spinning her around to face him. He pulled her closer to him with the hand that rested at the small of her back, and Lainey lifted her chin in anticipation of what he was about to do. She closed her eyes as his lips met hers, savoring the moment. The kiss, while not searingly hot, was warm enough to cause her to rise up onto her tiptoes in response, closing the slight distance between them. Armand’s hand caressed her back as his lips explored hers. Lainey responded in kind, playing with the tiny hairs in the back of his neck as she followed his lead like the dance.
All too soon the need to breathe overrode any other desires, and Lainey reluctantly broke free from him. Breathless, she stepped back and raised one eyebrow. "You call that a dance?
Copyright 2002 by Luney.
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