Sabé’s Secret Funeral
by Handmaiden Yané
evilsitheowyn@yahoo.com


The early morning is gray and foggy, barely reaching the secluded 
area of the catacombs near Theed. The four women are all cloaked, with 
cowls covering their heads, much as they were during their service to 
their Queen, Padmé Amidala. Five there were, yet four remain. Sabé 
Hirota, first handmaiden and decoy for Queen Amidala, is dead. And none 
except for those handmaidens who were in service with her, are to mourn 
her passing. Not even Amidala, who is a hunted soul these days after 
the devastating Clone Wars.

A young bounty hunter named Boba Fett, eager for the rich reward for 
the killing of Amidala, mistook Sabé for the former Queen. While she 
was dying, Fett finally realized that this was not Amidala. He took 
off, leaving her for dead. Eirtaé Bukoro, well skilled in the medicinal 
arts, could save her. She died with Eirtaé, Rabé, Saché, and Yané by 
her bedside. 

The women’s skirts rustle as they move to take their places near Sabé’s 
stone coffin. They carry candles in the traditional Naboo ceremony of 
the passing of one close to Royalty. Their faces are impassive and dry, 
having spent all their tears and emotions the night before. Rabé 
Napola, steps forward to speak first.

“No words can fully describe Sabé Hirota. She was beautiful and brave, 
willing to sacrifice all for her Queen and for her fellow handmaidens. 
Now she is gone. Though it was the bounty hunter Boba Fett who took her 
life, it is the Emperor Palpatine who is responsible for her death.”


No one was surprised at these words of treason. She then stopped, and 
Eirtaé spoke.

“Though we were different in many ways, we both loved Naboo and our 
Queen to the very depths of our heart, soul, mind, and body. She was 
willing to die for what she believed in, and she did. What did it mean 
to be a handmaiden? It meant to be what Sabé was to her Queen. Not just 
a servant to fetch nectar or apply makeup, but a loyal bodyguard, the 
trustworthy decoy. No one has and will be a better handmaiden than Sabé 
Hirota.”

Eirtaé could speak no more. Saché, then, continued on.

“I looked up to her in so many ways. In the way she was so loyal, so 
kind, so…courageous. She will live on in my heart, burning like a flame 
to keep me going on when I think that I cannot. For though her road was 
wrought with dangers, she did yield to them. She faced them and won.”


Finally, Yané spoke. 

“What more can I say? Your life was taken from you, but still you are 
not dead. Your spirit lives on. In the days of the Invasion of Theed, I 
was scared. So were you, but you did not show it. The Neimodians tried 
to break you, you would not break. And when you left for Coruscant, you 
did for your Queen.”

Together, silently, they put out their flames. The smoke blends in with 
the fog. Though the sun is by now, up, it does not shine through. The 
handmaidens lower their heads. Though there is hope, they cannot see 
it. 

The years have taken much from them. The Clone Wars took away their 
husbands, their children, their Queen. The Emperor took away their 
freedom, their Republic, the democracy. Where once was hope, despair. 
Where once was light, darkness. No longer the pretty girls they once 
were, their faces are worn, tired, plain. Their bodies that once were 
lean and fit, ache with age. 

They aren’t that old. But every year has added five, and Sabé’s death 
has added ten. Silently, they file out, leaving Sabé alone in the 
catacombs.