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City of Theed, Naboo
The sun was just beginning to set over the Royal Palace in Theed, painting the clouds with reds and purples. The dim light poured through the sitting room window, contrasting sharply with the sparkling blue hem of a dress it touched. Queen Drusilla Naberrie stared hard at her son, tapping her foot in frustration. "Please, tell me, in detail what is wrong with Lady Carleen Trumain."
Armand leaned back into the soft white couch, studying his mother. Her cheeks were a shade darker than her rose colored blush, her long blonde hair swept up into a perfect twist at the back of her head. Not a single hair was out of place, her long light blue dress hugged her slim figure perfectly, not even a single wrinkle blemished the beautiful material. He couldn't recall a single time in his life when her appearance was anything but perfect. It was certainly a good trait for a Queen, but it made for a difficult mother.
Drusilla narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't slouch." She spread her small, pale hands. "Carleen is beautiful, is she not?"
"She is certainly that," Armand agreed, straightening his back.
Drusilla nodded coolly. "She is soft spoken, well bred, and comes from a very prestigious family." Her cold blue eyes met Armand's warm brown. "Certainly a worthy bride for a Prince."
"Yes, she is." Armand ran a hand through his short, dark brown hair. "But not this Prince."
"Why not?" Drusilla asked, placing her hands on her hips. "What is the problem with her? You don't like red hair, her skins too light..."
"No," Armand held up his hands. "It has nothing to do with her looks. She is perfectly beautiful, she is well mannered, soft spoken. What's wrong with her, is she is a delicate ball of fluff that I would spend the rest of my life trying to make happy, without ever achieving it."
Drusilla raised a slender eyebrow. "Interesting. She shares the same fault as Lady Brina Vale, Shasha Nells..." Her rouge colored lips dropped into a frown. "You haven't liked a single prospect I have picked for you. Soon enough we will have gone through all the Nobles, and will have to move onto the peasants."
"Aren't we forgetting someone?" Armand asked. "What about Lady Priscilla Lavelle?"
The Queen's eyes widened slightly. "She is a little over the fashionable weight, dear. And don't get me started on her mouth! I've heard cleaner words from a drunk, angry, Corellian smuggler."
Armand covered his mouth to hide a smirk. He was tempted to say that she sounded interesting, but to do so would be to disrespect his mother, and he knew better than that. Instead, he contented himself with a simple, "Oh."
Drusilla sighed, and sat gracefully down by Armand. "I know this is hard on you, but you are nearing your 19th birthday. Your brother Richard was married two years before his. And I was all of 16 when I married your father."
"I know." Armand caught his mother’s blue eyes. "But like you, Richard has a Kingdom to some day rule. He needs to get used to his wife, in order to rule with her. I don’t have that problem."
"You could run if you’d like. Richard wouldn’t mind, in fact he wants you too. The Naboo have always elected their leader from the Naberrie Dynasty. He wants the people to have a choice."
"I know this, mother. But what the people need is a strong leader, who wants the position. Someone trained to rule. I have been trained for Ambassador work; it is what I love. A King cannot leave his home to handle negotiations all over the Galaxy, whereas a Prince can."
"Galaxy?" Drusilla questioned. "You really think we are ready to reveal ourselves to the Empire?"
Armand nodded. "It’s been 40 years since Darth Vader promised to protect our secret, even from the Emperor, providing no one ever leaves the planet."
Drusilla stared hard at him, her eyes burning. "And so you think we should break that trust? He was willing to keep our exististence secret from the Emperor, even to the point of, allowing the Falanassi woman Kayliegh to uphold the illusion of a devastated world." She held up a finger. "And he did so out of respect for your Great-Aunt. If you..."
"Drusilla," interrupted King Richard Naberrie the Second, stepping into the room. "Armand knows this. Every person in Naboo knows the story." He stood regally before her, his dark brown eyes boring into hers. "And I also think it is time to reopen negotiations with the Galaxy. I didn’t have our son trained only to deal with pesky Nobles."
"Richard..."
Richard held up a hand. "While I respect my father’s decision in following Lord Vader’s instructions, I cannot uphold them any longer. A world thrives on outside influence. It is the only way to progress technically and socially. I cannot and will not watch my world grow stagnant."
Drusilla rose to her feet, anger swelling in her breast. "But you would watch it go up in flames, your people suffer and die..."
"No, I would not," Richard interrupted her again, clasping his hands behind his back. "I have sent feelers out into the Galaxy, and received some interesting news. Emperor Palpatine and Vader have been dead for decades, the Empire is no longer in power. The rag tag Rebellion won the war, and the New Republic was instigated. They have been trying to maintain peace in the Galaxy, and have just won a costly war against invaders. I believe that making allies of them, maybe even joining them, would be beneficial for both sides."
Drusilla folded her arms. "Can we trust them?"
"I think so," Richard replied. "But I need to be sure. That is where Armand comes in." He rested a hand on his son’s shoulders. "I need someone I can trust to check them out for me, without their knowing." He stared into his son’s eyes. "Can you do that for me?"
Armand nodded, hoping he didn’t look too enthusiastic about getting to leave his world. A smile curled on his lips at the thought. "When do I leave?"
"As soon as possible," Richard said, catching his son’s contagious grin. "Dor will accompany you to Coruscant, where you will meet with Taren Lanceford for a proper disguise."
Armand’s enthusiasm fell at the mention of his aging Governor. "Are you sure Dor is up to it?"
Richard’s dark eyes twinkled knowingly at Armand’s weak protest. "Yes, very sure. In fact, he is even looking forward to it. When and if you decide the New Republic is trustworthy, you will open negotiations with them, and then contact me. In that time, you will be expected to dress and act accordingly to your stature, and must have appropriate escort for a Prince."
Armand’s shoulders sank. "I understand."
Copyright 2002 by Luney.
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