Title: A Mile in their Shoes
By: Cassia
Email: cassia_a@hotmail.com
Category: Story, Humor, Drama, Adventure, etc.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None, I think.
Disclaimer: All recognizable Star Wars characters are the
exclusive property of George Lucas. All others belong to me.
I have no official permission to use these characters, but
I'm not being paid for it either, so that's okay.
Feedback: Yes Please!
Time Frame: 9 years before TMP. Obi-Wan is 16.
Things bracketed by *'s are *italic*.
Summary: When the young Queen-to-be of the Planet Radoon's life is
threatened, Obi-Wan must go undercover to protect her, but just how
far will the ruse have to go? And will it be enough?
************
"You're not serious Master?" Obi-Wan pleaded. "Please tell me you're not serious about this."
"I am very serious about this Obi-Wan, it is the only way," Qui-Gon had no mercy on the 16-year-old. He pushed his Padawan down into a chair. "Mon Drane here has been good enough to offer us his services for the... makeover."
The multiple-armed Cestian smiled and tipped a little bow. He leaned Obi-Wan's chair back and picked up a jar filled with some kind of flesh-colored cream.
Obi-Wan groaned. "But Master, do you honestly expect me to be able to pass for, for a girl?"
"Oh, you'll pass quite nicely when I'm done with you," Mon Drane assured cheerfully. He ran one of his thumbs along Obi-Wan's smooth jaw-line as if assessing the apprentice. "You'll be very pretty," he concluded. That was not exactly what Obi-Wan wanted to hear.
"But Master, won't this be, deceiving people?" he asked hopefully. "Surely there is another way..." Obi-Wan was still looking for a way out of this as the supple- fingered Cestian started smearing the cold, greasy cream on his face.
"It's not being deceitful, it's playing a part. Obi-Wan, this is the Radoonian rite of passage for the Princess. No males are allowed to be present, but our job is to protect the Princess at all times. The threat against her will not be over until she sits on Radoon's throne," Qui-Gon explained patiently.
Obi-Wan grimaced. The three days until that happened seemed much too far away for the apprentice at that moment.
Princess Mareeja was only a year older than Obi-Wan, but a sad twist of events had left her with a planet to rule after the terrible double-murder of her parents. The killer or killers had never been caught, but Mareeja felt sure that her Uncle, Warren Dejabold was behind the murders, and would try for her too. However, the young Princess had no proof, so she turned to the Jedi and the Council sent Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan in response to the Princess's plea for protection until the coronation ceremony.
Obi-Wan was not sure he understood it entirely, but somehow, after Mareeja was crowned Queen, the threat to her was over, even though her parents had been killed while they were king and queen. It hardly made sense, but it had something to do with the fact that if she was killed, or captured *before* the coronation, while Radoon had no official ruler, then her Uncle could step into power as the next of kin. On the other hand, if something happened to her *after* she was the Queen, and she had no heir to take the throne, then the law said that Radoon would hold elections, to elect itself new monarchy. Warren Dejabold was not well liked by the people; he would not stand a chance in an open election, so Mareeja's death after the coronation would do him no good. Of course, all that was assuming that it was indeed Mareeja's uncle who was behind this, they really did not *know* that for certain...
"If Princess Mareeja is so concerned about her safety, then why does she refuse to let us be present this evening?" he wondered aloud as Mon Drane layered powder over the base he had applied to give Obi-Wan a smooth, delicate complexion. Obi-Wan coughed as he accidentally breathed some of the powder.
"Because the coming of age rite is a very sacred thing for young girls here, and according to tradition no one but girls, under seventeen who have not yet had the rite yet themselves, may attend," Qui-Gon watched the proceedings with amusement.
"Then why didn't the Council send female Jedi?" Obi-Wan groused.
"Ours is not to know, ours is-"
"To do, I know," Obi-Wan finished the oft-repeated phrase for his Master. He wondered if Qui-Gon had learned that at the Temple when he was an initiate, just like Obi-Wan had. Then the apprentice wondered if it had ever gotten on his Master's nerves quite as much as it did his.
"I just don't see why I have to do this," Obi-Wan muttered to himself, not meaning for his Master to hear him, but Qui-Gon did.
"Because we have a job to do and you're the only one who can," Qui-Gon responded. "Look at me Padawan, I would hardly be able to pass for under seventeen, and I do believe that not even Mon Drane's fine skills could make me look like a woman..." Qui-Gon ran his hand over his beard, a wry little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Obi-Wan nearly laughed in spite himself. The thought of Qui-Gon trying to look like a woman was a hilarious one. Even if the Master shaved his beard, there was no way to coax that sharply angled, distinctively masculine face into anything even remotely feminine.
Mon Drane glanced up, appraising Qui-Gon for a moment, and then shook his head. "You are right good Jedi, I am an artist, not a miracle worker. Hold still," he added the last to Obi-Wan who had not been able to help laughing at the way in which the make-up artist had assessed Qui-Gon's chances of being able to pass for a female.
"You, on the other hand my young friend," the Cestian added, returning to his work, "Are still young enough, and the lines of your face soft enough to work with."
Obi-Wan gave in with an inward groan. If there was no way out of this, then he was just going to have to make the best of it.
"Look at it as an understanding exercise Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. "You know what they say about not being able to truly appreciate someone else until you've walked a mile in their shoes... or, heels as the case may be," the Jedi Master said with the unmistakable hint of a smile playing across his face.
Obi-Wan grimaced. Somehow, that didn't help.
**********
Obi-Wan looked in the mirror and saw an unfamiliar girl staring out at him. *"Good grief, is that me?"* he wondered, gently touching the sandy-blond hair that curled alluringly on his shoulders and hung down his back to make sure it wasn't simply a bad dream. The hairpiece was nearly identical in color with his real hair so the effect was very strange, to him at any rate. Three small braids just above his ears on either side of his head held the wavy locks out of his face and came together behind his head, falling down his back with the loose hair. A large, blue bow held the braids on the back of his head. He made a face. Did he have to wear a *bow* in his hair? Well, it could have been worse. Qui-Gon and Mon Drane had considered dressing him in *pink*...
"Don't lick your lip like that," Mon Drane scolded. "You'll ruin your lipstick."
*"Oh, now that would be a disaster,"* Obi-Wan thought sarcastically, but tried to refrain from licking his lips. It was not usually a habit of his, but the lipstick made them feel unnatural and strange. Of course, the fake eyelashes were even worse. They were heavy and it felt like wearing weights on his eyelids. He was not accustomed to *seeing* his eyelashes and the heavy black in his upper and lower peripheral vision was distracting.
Long gold earrings dangled from his ears, bumping and jostling against his jaw and neck when he turned his head.
"There, you look lovely," Mon Drane said appreciatively, adjusting Obi-Wan's new bust-line. "Not quite classically beautiful I'm afraid," the Cestian shook his head. "Your features are a little too strong for that, and, if you'll pardon my saying so, you're a little too thick, but if this were a dance, I think you'd have more than a few boys asking you for a turn around the floor," the artist said with a smile.
Obi-Wan was *very* glad this was not a dance.
Qui-Gon nodded his approval. "Obi-Wan, you look... good."
"Thanks," Obi-Wan mumbled, giving his dress an unceremonious pull. The pantyhose he was wearing were *mighty* uncomfortable.
"Yes," Mon Drane agreed. "The blue complements his eyes, does it not? Oh, don't forget the bag," the Cestian added, gesturing to a little blue pouch on the chair. "No proper young lady goes anywhere without her carry-bag."
Obi-Wan strode quickly over to the chair and picked up the bag. Was it his imagination or was the Cestian having a little too much fun with this situation?
"Oh, no!" Mon Drane groaned in horror as he watched Obi-Wan walk. "My young friend, you walk all wrong! You walk like, like a swordsman!"
*"No surprise there,"* Obi-Wan thought dryly.
"Young ladies do not stomp across the floor like that, you must move more delicately, you must learn to glide across the floor," Mon Drane instructed. "You walk like that and you'll stick out like a sore thumb!" The Cestian imitated the kind of walk he wanted Obi-Wan to copy.
Obi-Wan tried to follow suit, but ended up over-exaggerating more than slightly.
Qui-Gon suddenly discovered that he needed to leave the room for a moment.
*"Thanks,"* Obi-Wan thought, under no illusions about the reason for his Master's quick departure. *"At least he didn't laugh in my face..."*
Obi-Wan tried again, with more success this time.
"Very good," Mon Drane congratulated. "But what about your voice?" he asked somewhat doubtfully.
Obi-Wan shrugged; that part was the least of his worries. "It won't be a problem," he said, speaking softly and using the Force to change the way the Cestian heard him. "I just won't talk much."
Mon Drane raised the cranial ridges that took the place of his eyebrows. "You talk like that and you won't have to keep quiet. That's good. Your apprentice is a very versatile young man Master Jinn," the Cestian told Qui-Gon as the Jedi Master re-entered the room.
Qui-Gon just smiled and nodded, his composure once more under control. "You won't be able to bring your lightsaber," he informed Obi-Wan. "I've just found out that there will be a weapons detector at the entrance and we can hardly risk having you searched."
Obi-Wan felt naked without his lightsaber, especially in this peculiar get-up, but he knew his Master was right, they couldn't risk it. "But Master, what if there *is* danger to the Princess?" "Then you will just have to be resourceful Padawan," Qui-Gon said helpfully. "But the place will be surrounded by guards on the outside and everyone entering is being thoroughly checked, I will be on hand as well, so no serious problem should arise, this is just a precaution."
Obi-Wan nodded, resisting to urge to push the hair that curled across his forehead out of his face. All his life he had had his hair cut short, first as an initiate, and later as a Padawan with the addition of his apprentice's braid, so the feeling of hair brushing against his face, neck and shoulders was an unusual one. Qui-Gon was probably right he decided. His biggest worry was going to be avoiding discovery.
"Master, what if someone finds out who I really am?" Obi-Wan asked, pulling on the thin, white gloves that Mon Drane gave him.
If caught breaking the sacredness of this event, Obi-Wan would face severe penalties by law; he might even be imprisoned. "Don't let them find out," was all the advice Qui-Gon offered.
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. *That* was helpful.
"All right, you're all ready," Mon Drane proclaimed him done.
"Good, it's time to be going," Qui-Gon glanced at the chronometer on the wall. "You know how to get there?"
Obi-Wan nodded.
"All right, I won't go with you because we don't want to make anyone suspicious, but you know what to do."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan turned to leave.
"Oh, and Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, making the apprentice stop on his way out the door.
"Yes, Master?"
"Have fun."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan's voice dripped sarcasm. *Sure, this was going to be loads of fun...*
*********
At the entrance to the palace, Obi-Wan gave the guards who halted him the fake invitation that Qui-Gon had procured for him.
"Lady Obijeena," the guard welcomed "her" after okaying the invitation. They bowed politely and let Obi-Wan pass.
The apprentice followed the lushly decorated corridor to the room where the ceremony was to be held. *Obijeena, couldn't Qui-Gon have come up with something better than that..?*
The room, when he reached it, was huge and filled with dozens, perhaps hundreds of young girls ranging from 13 to 16. Despite how he was dressed, Obi-Wan felt immediately out of place. The Jedi quickly shoved aside his discomfort and centered himself. All these people were a good thing. In a throng like this, it was highly unlikely that anyone would notice him.
Princess Mareeja sat on a jeweled chair in the center of the room. She looked very beautiful. The slate-blue silk dress she wore offset her copper hair in a lovely way.
When she moved, the dress glittered and flashed. Obi-Wan realized that this was because the dress was encrusted with jewels. Yet, despite her obvious wealth and status, the future Queen's face was a kind one, and held no trace of the kind of snobbery that one might expect from someone of her position. Obi-Wan already knew from his and Qui-Gon's previous dealings with her that Mareeja's disposition matched her beauty. He couldn't understand how anyone could want to hurt her.
The ceremony itself did not last very long and the rest of the evening was more or less one large girl party.
The girls chatted about this, that and one million other things. Some of them knew each other, some did not. Obi-Wan didn't know how they could find so many things to converse about. Talk ranged from the various merits of they're boyfriends to their parents, to the latest music and fashion. Having nothing useful to contribute to any of those subjects, Obi-Wan stayed on the fringes and no one paid him any mind. He could have found many quite intelligent conversations had he tried, but he had no interest in having anyone notice him more than they had to. He was here to keep an eye on the Princess and that's all he wanted to do.
The girls started playing group games. Some of them looked quite interesting, but Obi-Wan felt far too out-of-place to join any of them.
Princess Mareeja held her sides, aching from having laughed so hard. She was enjoying herself thoroughly. It was rare occasions like this when she could forget all her responsibilities and concerns and be a normal girl. The only stain on her happiness was the fact that her Mother should have been Master of Ceremonies for her coming of age. She missed her parents, but it was hard to grieve for people you barely knew. Schooled off planet and attended by a host of nursemaids and servants to take care of her every need, she had very few memories of her parents being involved in her life, but she felt no resentment over this. It was simply the way things were. She had been well taken care of, and even if the day that she would have to ascend the throne had come much earlier than anyone expected, she was ready. She had been trained her whole life to be ready.
The music played on and the other girls were already starting another game. Looking up, Mareeja saw that girl again, the one in the blue dress. The Princess had noticed that the girl did not participate in the games, she never seemed to talk to anyone and every time Mareeja saw her, she was alone. Mareeja felt sorry for the girl. She was obviously very shy and the Princess felt a little indignant that none of the other guests were making any attempt to make her feel more welcome.
The room pulsed and moved to the rhythm of popular Radoon music. Obi-Wan had lost sight of the Princess in the crowd. He looked around and found her, heading straight for him.
The girl looked over as Mareeja approached and the Princess got a good look at her for the first time. Her features were a trifle strong and Mareeja guessed that her blue dress was intentionally as loose and flowing as it was to hide a slightly stout figure, but she had a quiet quality about her that made Mareeja wish that more people would be willing to look past outward appearances.
"Hello," Mareeja greeted. The girl looked familiar and the Princess was trying to remember where she had seen her before. Perhaps at a state function?
Obi-Wan remembered just in time that he must curtsy, not bow. "Your Highness," he replied, hoping this outfit really made him look as different as it felt.
"Call me Mareeja, please," the Princess said pleasantly. "And you are?"
"Obijeena if it pleases you," Obi-Wan addressed her respectfully. *"Hope you like it better than I do..."*
"That's very pretty," Mareeja complimented. "Why don't you join the game? It's lots of fun."
"I-" Obi-Wan hesitated. "I don't know how," he evaded, but it was also the truth.
"That's okay, you'll learn quick. It's easy. Come on, you can be my partner." Mareeja held out one pretty, well manicured hand in invitation.
How could Obi-Wan refuse such a kind invitation? He hesitantly took her hand, starting to offer some further excuse, but she didn't give him the time. Clasping his hand she pulled him into the game. The first few times he stumbled and tripped up, but Mareeja was a good teacher and he was a very quick learner. By the third time they played "Obijeena" and Mareeja were beating all the other girls hands down.
Tired and hot after playing for well over an hour, Mareeja excused herself from the fun to get a drink. "We make a good team," she said to Obi-Wan with a smile as he poured them both a drink of some cold, pink beverage.
Obi-Wan nodded, pushing his damp hair out of his face. He was glad now that Mon Drane had insisted on adhering the hairpiece to his skin rather than just placing it on. It would take removers to get it off, but at least it would not fall off at some inopportune moment.
Downing the drink thirstily he had to admit that he was having much more fun this evening than he had anticipated.
"Ow, my feet hurt," Mareeja kicked off her high-heeled shoes. "I knew I shouldn't have worn these, but they looked so nice with the dress." The Princess half hid behind the refreshment table to conceal her bare feet. She giggled softly. "Gee, do you think anyone will notice?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "Who cares? No point in being miserable for fashion's sake."
Mareeja grinned. She liked Obijeena, she thought like Mareeja did. The Princess nudged the sparkly shoes under the tablecloth with her foot. "I see you were smart enough to wear something comfortable," she commented, glancing at the flat-heeled blue shoes that just peaked out from beneath the hem of Obi-Wan's dress. Obi-Wan would hardly consider the tight, stiff shoes as comfortable, but he remembered with a smile what had happened when Mon Drane tried to put him in high-heels.
"Let's just say that I admire anyone who can wear those torture devices with as much grace and poise as you do," he said with a wry little smile.
Mareeja laughed. "You get used to it I guess, it's one of those sacrifices we make to fashion. Still, I think boys have it the easiest. They don't have to wear silly things like that."
Obi-Wan had to agree with her.
"You know Obijeena, you seem very familiar to me. Haven't we met somewhere before?" Mareeja asked thoughtfully.
Obi-Wan's heart sped up a little. Of course Mareeja had seen him before. He and Qui-Gon had been protecting her for the past two days. Although he had had little actual interaction with her personally, they had certainly seen each other. "I don't think so your Highness," he shook his head. "But I know what you mean, I feel as if I've met you before as well." Obi-Wan felt a little guilty about lying to her like that, but in a way it was true, Mareeja hadn't met *Obijeena* before tonight.
"Where do you live?" Mareeja wanted to know.
"Far away," Obi-Wan said absently as if he didn't really care to talk about it. He didn't. "I won't be here in Roonda for long."
"Ah," Mareeja nodded sympathetically, thinking she understood what he meant. "I understand. I was sent to school off-planet as well. It kind of makes you feel like a stranger in your own home, or, as if you have no home. Do you know what I mean Obijeena?"
Obi-Wan did know what she meant, more than she could understand. He had no permanent ties other than Qui-Gon and the Jedi, he had no stationary place to call home. "Yes, I do," he answered truthfully. "But I have found that home is really a matter of where your heart is, not so much a place, as a feeling..." he trailed off, realizing he was saying much more than he had intended to say.
Mareeja smiled at him warmly. "You are so right. It's funny, but somehow, I feel that you understand me better than anyone else here. I'm glad to have met you Obijeena. Will you come and visit me again, after tonight I mean? I would take great pleasure in spending more time with you."
"I'll try," Obi-Wan hedged slightly. "Unfortunately I really won't be here long," he repeated.
"Well, we'll have to write then," Mareeja said, not so easily put off.
Before Obi-Wan could reply a servant droid interrupted them. "Forgive me your Highness, but Prime Minister Bosh has requested your immediate presence in the stateroom," the silver droid informed them.
Mareeja sighed. "Business before pleasure, so it is always. All right Three-Dee, I'm coming." She slid her shoes back on. "I'm sorry Obijeena, you'll have to excuse me for a few minutes. I'll be right back."
Obi-Wan nodded and the Princess left, followed by the droid. Obi-Wan hesitated, wondering what he should do. It might be risky to follow the Princess, but something in him was just not comfortable with this turn of events. What did the Prime Minister want with the Princess so urgently that he would interrupt her party?
Sliding out of the room unnoticed he quietly followed Mareeja. Once outside the great hall where the party was being held, the droid left and two guards fell into step behind the young, soon-to-be monarch as she made her way quickly to the stateroom. Obi-Wan could read concern in her. She too wondered what could be so important as to warrant this intrusion on one of the most significant days of her life. It could not be good.
The doors to the stateroom were opened for the Princess and she passed through them, the guards following her in. There was no one on guard outside the doors, so Obi-Wan crept up to them, pressing his ear against their deep mahogany panels. He could not hear anything through the thick wooden doors so he stretched out with the Force instead. Something felt very wrong to him somehow.
*******
Mareeja entered the stateroom. The heavy wood doors swung shut behind her and for some reason, the sound made her jump, just a little. She looked around.
"Where is Prime Minister Bosh?" she asked the guards. There did not seem to be anyone in the room.
"He was unable to make it your Highness," the guard on her right said, calmly drawing his blaster and pointing it at her chest.
Mareeja felt her heart jump up into her throat and start hammering wildly. "Wh-what is the meaning of this?!" she demanded, backing up. She tried to be angry and commanding but her voice wavered, betraying the panic that was sweeping through her.
The other guard caught her from behind, clapping his hand over her mouth and wrapping his other arm about her waist.
The first guard pressed his blaster against her temple. "Don't make a sound your Highness, and you won't get hurt," he half threatened, half promised.
Mareeja did not believe him. She was sure these men intended to kill her just as her parents had been killed. She began struggling fiercely, trying to break away from them. The man with the blaster struck her a violent blow behind her ear with the barrel of his weapon and the Princess sagged in her captor's arms, dazed.
Lights danced across her vision and a loud buzzing filled her ears. The last thing she remembered was seeing Obijeena burst through the doors. *"No, Obijeena! They'll kill you too! Get out of here!"* she thought desperately for a moment before another blow rendered the young lady unconscious.
Mareeja entered the stateroom. The heavy wood doors swung shut behind her and for some reason, the sound made her jump, just a little. She looked around.
"Where is Prime Minister Bosh?" she asked the guards. There did not seem to be anyone in the room.
"He was unable to make it your Highness," the guard on her right said, calmly drawing his blaster and pointing it at her chest.
Mareeja felt her heart jump up into her throat and start hammering wildly. "Wh-what is the meaning of this?!" she demanded, backing up. She tried to be angry and commanding but her voice wavered, betraying the panic that was sweeping through her.
The other guard caught her from behind, clapping his hand over her mouth and wrapping his other arm about her waist.
The first guard pressed his blaster against her temple. "Don't make a sound your Highness, and you won't get hurt," he half threatened, half promised.
Mareeja did not believe him. She was sure these men intended to kill her just as her parents had been killed. She began struggling fiercely, trying to break away from them. The man with the blaster struck her a violent blow behind her ear with the barrel of his weapon and the Princess sagged in her captor's arms, dazed.
Lights danced across her vision and a loud buzzing filled her ears. The last thing she remembered was seeing Obijeena burst through the doors. *"No, Obijeena! They'll kill you too! Get out of here!"* she thought desperately for a moment before another blow rendered the young lady unconscious.
Outside, Obi-Wan had felt Mareeja's sudden surge of terror. Pushing against the door he had found it locked. The Force took care of that in a matter of moments. He burst into the room just as one of the "guards" clubbed the Princess, knocking her out cold. The traitorous guard held his weapon to Mareeja's head, daring Obi-Wan to try something. "Better not make any sudden moves or loud sounds," he warned. "Or her Highness dies."
Obi-Wan hesitated, quickly running through his options. If he could somehow distracted them for a moment, just enough to get that blaster away from Mareeja's head, then he knew he stood a pretty fair chance. There were only two of them.
A large picture of the previous King and Queen, hanging on the wall behind the two men and the unconscious Princess, caught the apprentice's attention.
"What do you want? What's going on? What have you done to the Princess?" Obi-Wan bought time, playing his persona and allowing his voice to quaver as if he were afraid. Through the Force he gave the wire the picture hung on a nudge, sliding it off the hook...
The picture fell with a thud, causing the two traitors to, predictably, look over their shoulders and see what caused the noise.
Obi-Wan sprang into action. Snatching the blaster away from the first guard he ducked an ill thought of swing, causing the Princess' two assailants to collide with one another. Things were going well until suddenly, a blaster bolt came out of nowhere, scorching the floor by his feet as he jumped aside, only just in time. He realized too late that they were no longer alone in the room. Somewhere near a dozen men had materialized, seemingly out of nowhere.
Obi-Wan stopped. Without his lightsaber, he could not hope to fight that many men at such close range and still keep both he and the unconscious Princess safe and alive.
TBC
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