"Siona, Mace was only kidding," Qui-Gon called after her, still fighting to control his exhasperation. "There's nothing wrong with your packing job." He cast a glare at Rees Toth, who was biting his lip to keep laughter in. "Stop it," he hissed at his old friend, rolling his eyes as it only increased the other man's mirth.

"I only said that it looked a little bulky!" Mace defended himself from where he was sitting on the other side of the room, sprawled on their couch. Qui-Gon wondered sometimes if his friend actually /realized/ that Siona had a crush on him--a crush and a case of hero-worship that made her listen to everything he said.

Most of the time at the expense of what her Master said.

Mace probably didn't even realize it. Most apprentices had the good taste to develop crushes on their own Masters, who usually were well capable of recognizing and dealing with it. Mace didn't seem to notice the distracted look in Siona's eyes whenever she was in the same room with him, but Rees and Qui-Gon did, and Qui-Gon found it a great deal less amusing than Rees seemed to.

"Mace--" Qui-Gon shot his friend a serious look, lowering his voice. "Don't tease her, Mace. She takes it very seriously."

Mace sighed and nodded, his face going suddenly serious. "Shawn--go help her out," Mace said, nudging his Padawan with his foot.

"Are you crazy?" Shawn demanded. "She'll take my head off!"

"I heard that!" Siona called out from her room. "Get in here and help me, Shawn. Now."

"I hate girls," Shawn muttered, climbing to his feet and heading sullenly towards Siona's room. "They're just not worth the trouble."

"You better go with him," Rees told his own Padawan, casting a knowing look at Shawn's back. Lowering his voice, he traded a conspiretorial look with Clotho. "Make sure she doesn't goad him into anything silly."

The felinoid smiled at his Master, rising gracefully to his feet. "I'll keep any inconvienent emotions from exploding," he promised, winking at his Master before padding after the still irate Shawn.

"Something I'm missing?" Qui-Gon asked his two friendswith a raised eyebrow.

"Shawn had developed a rather full blown attraction to Siona," Mace said with a smirk, shaking his head.

"She's fifteen years old!" Qui-Gon exploded, lowering his voice when he noticed that Siona's door was still open. "Mace, that's too young! He's too old for her."

"He's eighteen, Qui-Gon," Rees said. "And she's nearly sixteen. Not that young at all." Casting a careful look at Mace, Rees winked at Qui-Gon. "I wouldn't worry, Qui-Gon. She's not interested in him."

"Yet," Qui-Gon rumbled, voice dangerous. "She's fifteen. That's too young for--"

"Stop, Qui-Gon," Rees said, shaking his head. "You're turning snarly. Siona's a sensible girl--" again the sly glance at Mace, "--well, most of the time. Let's turn this conversation away from adolsecent love and onto something a little less volitile."

"The mission," Mace agreed, looking back and forth between Qui-Gon and Rees, obviously sensing that he was missing something. "Tell us about the mission."

"Mostly routine," Qui-Gon responded, relaxing back into his chair a little. "Naboo just elected a new King, a youngish man I believe, not more than sixteen or seventeen. Apparently the former King was more than a little corrupt--had some notion that he would declare the Naboo throne inheritable by blood instead of an elected honor." Qui-Gon grimaced. "That's where it becomes a little less routine. The old King's two sons are rather upset by the fact that their Father was /almost/ successful and have decided that if the new King dies, they may have a chance at the throne."

"I thought Naboo always selected rulers by election," Rees said thoughtfully. "There really wouldn't be any precedent to set either of the sons up as the next ruler. More likely the people would simply elect a new King or Queen."

"Nonetheless the new King, Tion, has requested our presence for protection and the possible identification of spies and traitors. As Naboo holds a place on the Senate, we are required to provide him with what he asks for." Qui-Gon frowned slightly. "It's not what I had hoped for Siona's first mission--but if all goes well it will be a good experience."

Qui-Gon turned around as Siona's door slid open, Shawn bolting out of the room barely in time to avoid a boot sailing towards his head with amazing precision.

"Padawan, what did you do now?" Mace asked in a cheerful tone.

"Said something to upset Siona," Shawn replied mournfully. He scrambled over to where the boot had hit the ground and swept it up, trying to tug it back on to his foot.

"What was that, Shawn?" Rees asked, trying to hide his amusement.

"I'm not sure, Master Toth," Shawn said, still hopping on one foot. "Of course, it doesn't take much these days."

This time Siona threw one of her own boots at Shawn. She didn't miss.

~~~~~~~~~

Standing in the doorway to the small berth, Qui-Gon mentally reviewed every curse in every language he had ever heard. When it seemed the list would not suffice he went back and repeated them a second time. And a third.

Back in Qui-Gon's not so distant student days, a certain kind of novel had become the height of fashion before the Jedi Council had suppressed it. The books, crudely nicknamed 'Forcers' had been the slummiest kind of trash novel, revolving around main characters who were Jedi--Jedi who seduced those who weren't as well versed in the seductive powers of the 'Force' as the Jedi were.

One of the main premises in books revolving around Jedi seducing their students had been the rather laughable assumption that Masters and Padawan's always shared quarters and beds when on ships and missions. It had always been a joke in the Order since Padawans were required by long standing tradition to sleep separate from their Masters on mission, even in the unlikely case that the two were lovers.

The premise from the tradition had nothing to do with sex--and everything to do with psychology. It had been noticed long ago that when a Master and Padawan shared a bed, whether they were lovers or not, a sub-conscious feeling of 'safe' would accompany the act. What Padawan wouldn't feel safe so close to their Master? Since the last thing any Padawan on mission should feel was safe, the tradition of separate beds had been started.

Staring at the single berth he was to share with Siona on the way to Naboo, Qui-Gon decided that swearing in his head was overrated. Definitely time to start swearing outloud.

"Do we have to share that, Master?" Siona asked from behind him, peering into the room with furrowed brows. "I don't think that's quite standard."

"I'm sure there is a mistake," Qui-Gon stated confidently, spinning on the ball of his foot to head towards the bridge. Even in the few times that Master and Padawan were forced to share a berth, it /never/ happened between male and female pairings.

/Never./

"Sorry, nothing I can do," the captain snapped when Qui-Gon calmly stated his problem. "Roster said your Padawan was a boy. Can't help they were wrong."

"There has to be an extra room somewhere," Qui-Gon pressed. "My Padawan is most definitely not a boy."

"Not our problem," the captain replied, leveling a glare at the Jedi. "Listen, Jedi. A plague just erupted in one of the systems, and all of the official transports on Coruscant with the exception of this on have been used to take Healers and supplies to the people who need them. Your mission was classified as a level two, making it important enough to get a transport." The captain shoved his thumb against his own chest. "I'm that transport. You share a bed with your Padawan, or your get your ass off of this ship so I can take the rest of the supplies here to the people who are dying. It's only one night, I think you'll survive."

Before Qui-Gon could respond the captain had spun and headed off in a different direction, bellowing orders to his crew.

Siona was sitting on the narrow berth when Qui-Gon returned. He shrugged one shoulder, shaking his head at her raised eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, Padawan. This is all we get."

"That's okay," Siona replied promptly, climbing from the bed to spread one blanket on the floor. "Sleeping on a firm surface is good for my back." Her eyes sparkled as she settled cross-legged on the ground, staring up expectantly at her Master.

"Siona, you are welcome to the bed," Qui-Gon started to protest.

"Master, I believe that would be highly irregular--not to mention a breach of protocol." Siona grinned, her irrepressible good humor bubbling through. "What would the Council say if they knew I had denied my decrepit old Master the comfort of a bed?"

"Decrepit, am I?" Qui-Gon demanded, reaching down to sweep Siona up under one arm, tossing her onto the bed before settling to the ground on top of her blanket. "Far from it, my Padawan."

"Whatever you say, Master," Siona replied obediently, eyes still sparkling.

"I believe now would be a good time for a little bit of meditation," Qui-Gon said, giving Siona a stern look when she moaned. "I am serious, my Padawan. You know my views on meditation."

"Yes, Master." Siona's voice was resigned, much of the light fading from her eyes. "I will meditate now, my Master."

Although Qui-Gon hated to see the light fade from those bright eyes, it was his duty to make sure Siona was prepared for all parts of being a Jedi--even those she didn't enjoy.

He watched carefully as Siona settled into a more comfortable position, trying--and failing, as usual--to let the energy that coursed through her veins dissipate. Although he had tried many times, Qui-Gon despaired of ever teaching Siona to truly meditate properly.

It was her one failing--and a great liability it would be. Siona was a brilliant student, intuitive in ways that shocked all of her teachers. In weapons she had no peer, her incredible connection to the living Force making her the match of many a Knight even at fifteen.

But when it came to meditation, there were many five-year-olds that were more skilled at it than his Padawan. She was simply incapable of letting go of the present. The Living Force flowed through her constantly, energizing her and making the task of sitting still for more than five minutes almost impossible. And try as she might, she couldn't let go of it.

It was frustrating beyond measure to watch her repeatedly failing at something so elementary--but she was already so hyper-sensitive to her failure that more than subtle hint or two would send her into a downward spiral of doubt and frustration. Although she had grown in the past few years, Siona was still very much the insecure Padawan who was convinced she wasn't worthy of her Master.

"Relax, Siona," Qui-Gon murmured in his teaching-voice--a slow, steady monotone that was just loud enough to be heard clearly. "Let go of the Force. Let it guide you--don't guide it."

Qui-Gon watched as she tried and failed, again and again. Something would have to be done about this.

~~~~~~~~~

They were dropped off with no fanfare, the captain of the ship anxious to get back to his other duties. A few guards and one well dressed young man were waiting for the Jedi, one of whom bowed and approached Qui-Gon.

"The King sends his greetings, and asks me to convey you directly to your chambers so that you may rest before meeting with him," the guard who was apparently in charge said, bowing a second time to Siona. Siona returned the gesture respectfully, keeping her hands tucked into her robe.

"We thank the King for his hospitality," Qui-Gon replied in a friendly voice, bowing his head slightly. "However, we are prepared to see the King now, if it is convenient for him."

The guard cast a look over his shoulder at his companions, raising an eyebrow. The young man stepped forward, ignoring the glares he garnered from the guards.

"In that case, Master Jedi, I am at your immediate disposal." The young man let out a dazzling smile, and Qui-Gon felt Siona start slightly beside him. "Ignore the way my guards are glaring, Master Jinn--they disapprove of my being here. Unfortunately for them, they lack the authority to overrule the King."

"They may be correct, your Highness," Qui-Gon said with a bow. "In times such as these, it could be dangerous to be in the streets. If it is acceptable to you, I suggest we retire to a safer place."

King Tion bowed to Qui-Gon, eliciting a smothered gasp from one of the guards at his breech of protocol. "At your service, Master Jedi." Another dazzling smile was turned on Qui-Gon, and he found himself warming to the boy. "My retainers are not used to my ways yet, Master Jinn. I find it counter-productive to stand on protocol unless strictly necessary, but I still shock them sometimes."

"Humbleness is a virtue that can be taken too far," Qui-Gon responded with a smile. "Come, let's remove you from danger, at least, before we continue."

"I refuse to stir a step until you've introduced your Apprentice to me," Tion said, his warm gaze turning to the still hooded Siona. "I hear that we are of an age, and I look forward to talking with him."

Qui-Gon spared a moment to wonder why his Padawan's gender seemed so difficult for everyone to grasp. Sighing, he gestured for Siona to step forward. "You Highness, may I present my Apprentice, Padawan Siona Ja'Larkin."

Siona pulled her hood back and bowed lowly, straightening with a smile for the King's shocked face.

"I'm afraid your Highness was misinformed as to my gender," Siona said softly, gracing the young King with a faint smile. "I'm sorry to disappoint."

Ignoring protocol once again, the King swept up Siona's hand and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. "Of all the things I would call this surprise, a disappointment is not one of them," Tion said, unleashing his most charming smile on Siona.

Although Siona seemed oblivious to the sudden attraction radiating from the King, Qui-Gon wasn't. He groaned inwardly, gesturing to Siona that she should take her place behind him as the entourage rearranged themselves, King and Jedi surrounded by guards.

Oh, this was going to be interesting.

~~~~~~~~

::What a mess . . .:: Qui-Gon thought wryly as the he stared down at the flowery invitation in his hands. It had been dropped off only moments earlier along with a seamstress and a tailor, who were waiting patiently beside the door.

King Tion had decided to throw a ball in the honor of the Jedi. Politicaly it was a sound move--alerting enemies to the fact that Tion had power and influence on his side. However, Qui-Gon couldn't help but suspect the true motivations behind the dance--espically when he saw some of the designs the seamstress had in mind for Siona's dress.

::Do I tell her or not?:: That was the question of the hour. Siona had good sense along with a raging crush on Mace Windu--it was unlikely that she would do anything foolish, even at the encouragement of the young King. There was no danger in telling her--

--except that it might distract her, and for a mission this delicate, if not dangerous, he needed his Padawan's focus to be entire. Having an attractive young man her own age lusting after her might very well push her off balance--and there was always the off chance that unrequited admiration for Mace could easily be shoved aside for the attractive, attentive, /young/ King.

Qui-Gon's thoughts were interrupted by Siona's tentative brush along their bond. He turned slowly, meeting her eyes across the room.

::Do I have to wear one of these?:: she shot along their bond, her mind voice disgusted. ::Master, they're indecent!:: Her slight hand gesture took in the patterns for dresses that the seamstress was chattering about, still believing she had Siona's full attention.

::Be polite, Padawan, and pick the least indecent one.:: Qui-Gon had already let the tailor take his measurements--aparently there was only one appropriate design for male dress clothing on Naboo, so Qui-Gon had been spared chosing a style.

::I don't think there /is/ a decent one,:: Siona implored across the bond, a slight hint of desperation in her mental tone. ::Please, Master--come help me. She won't listen to me!::

Deciding that it was in everyone's best interest to have Siona modestly clad, Qui-Gon caved in to Siona's pleading eyes and moved slowly across the room to tower over the diminuative seamstress.

"With all possible respect, my lady," he said softly, hiding a smile as the small woman started at his voice. "Could I suggest a change?"

"These designs came straight from the King," the seamstress squeaked out, eyes growing large as she took in the bulk of the Jedi standing next to her. "He was most adament."

::I'll bet he was,:: Qui-Gon thought narrowly, keeping the thought tightly sheilded as he glanced over the designs spread out on the table. He could definatly see where his Padawan's distress had come from--she didn't even have the figure to fill out half of the dresses, and the rest were so impractical that they were laughable.

"My Padawan needs to have freedom of movement," Qui-Gon said firmly. He picked out the most salvagable of the dresses and pointed to it. "If you could perhaps lengthen the skirt on this one and make the back into one piece--I will deal with the King. He must remember that we are here as bodyguards, and no one can fight if they are going to fall out of their clothing."

::Master!:: Siona's thought was shocked, and he noticed a slight flush in her cheeks. It made him smile--Siona may seem mature sometimes, but she had a great deal of growing up to do yet.

"I will do what I can, Master Jedi," the seamstress stuttered, oblivious to the second conversation going on over her head. "But the King will not be pleased."

"But he will be alive," Qui-Gon countered, tucking the woman's hand into his arm and leading her galantly to the door. "And that is what is important."

"Master," Siona started after the door was safely closed. "That is still horribly impractical. There will be nowhere to put my lightsabre." Her hand drifted down to brush her belt, touching the metal cylander posessivly in an unconcious gesture. Having only completed her final lightsabre a few months ago, she was still very posessive of it.

"It's a party dress, Siona," Qui-Gon said, trying not to smile. "It's not supposed to be practical."

"But my lightsabre--"

"Will hang at your waist on a belt that we will procure," Qui-Gon said. "I have no intention of sending you into a potentially dangerous situation without it." ::Not to mention it might remind certain people that no matter how pretty a young girl she is, she /is/ a Jedi.::

"Just promise me I won't have to wear those awful shoes with heels," Siona said mournfully. "I've seen some of the Senators wearing them--they look excruciatingly painful."

"We all make sacrifices, Padawan," Qui-Gon said stoicly. "Now, how about we get a little bit of 'sabre practice in before it's time to clean up?" ::And hope that we don't have to use it tonight . . .::

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TBC