Longing, Part 3
Dec. 9th, 2006 01:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
matrilSecond-to-last installment.
Longing
Part 3
---
The next morning, it was indeed her mother’s voice that woke her, but her tone was tense, something Padmé had certainly not expected. She sat up, trying to blink the lingering sleep from her eyes. The sun was pouring in through the windows, but she wanted to pull the covers back over her head. She had gotten at best half a night of sleep.
“It’s Queen Jamilla,” her mother said, worry edging subtly into her voice. “She wishes to speak with you.”
As Padmé’s alertness returned, she rose and looked at her mother in confusion. “Now? The ascension ceremony couldn’t have been more than an hour ago. What could she want to talk with me about?”
Her mother’s lips were pulled very tight. “I thought you were done with this.” She sounded more sad than accusatory, but Padmé felt a twinge of guilt nonetheless.
“I am,” she answered, and wished her voice sounded more certain. “This shouldn’t take long.”
“Hmm. Your breakfast will be waiting,” her mother said mildly, and left the room. Padmé pushed her hair back over her shoulders and took up her robe from its hook on the wall. She gave herself a quick glance in the mirror. Well, Jamilla couldn’t expect her to look more than somewhat presentable when she was waking her up like this. Sighing, she turned on the holo projector.
She was met with a small holo of Jamilla, sitting on the throne that Padmé had put behind her yesterday along with everything it represented. “Your Highness,” she greeted her with a bow of the head. “I hope all went well during the ceremony.”
“Yes, thank you,” Jamilla said with a smile that was genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry to trouble you at home.”
“It’s all right.” Padmé sat down, feeling a slight frown cross her face. “But I admit, I’m surprised to hear from you so soon. Is something wrong?”
Jamilla hesitated, her eyes roving for a moment to something out of sight. Padmé suspected it was one of her royal advisors. Then she looked back at Padmé, apparently steeling herself for something before speaking again. “Padmé, Senator Remti has decided to retire.”
Padmé blinked. “That’s – unexpected,” she said. “I thought he would serve at least another two terms.”
“So did he,” Jamilla said wryly. “Unfortunately, there have been health issues – a few other complications. Nothing serious, but it’s rather sudden. He’ll be leaving Coruscant immediately.” Her mouth twitched. Padmé could see she still had a bit to learn about maintaining a royal composure, but she had been no different on her first day as queen.
Padmé smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry you have to be facing something like this right away. I hope you can find a solution.”
Jamilla raised her eyebrows. “I hope so too. That is why I have contacted you.”
There was a silence. Padmé’s thoughts seemed to take a lifetime to catch up. Then it came to her like a blaster bolt. “You want me to take his place,” she said blankly.
“Padmé, I know it’s a great deal to ask. I would never ask it of you, under normal circumstances.” Jamilla looked truly pained. “But the Senate is convening in less than a week to discuss a number of crucial issues, and we can’t afford not to have a representative there.” The words were rushing over Padmé; she hardly caught their meaning. “I ask you because no one else is nearly as qualified to represent the needs of our people. We don’t have the time to prepare anyone else. I know I can trust you to serve the Naboo as faithfully in the Senate as you have here in Theed.” She looked at Padmé in true pleading. “If you decide not to, I will not think less of you. But if you agree, I will be forever in your debt. We all will.”
Another silence. At last Padmé asked, “How much time do I have to decide?”
Jamilla appeared to be looking at her advisors again. Then she turned her gaze back on Padmé and said, “Until tomorrow morning.” She added earnestly. “I’m sorry. We have to know if we need to find someone else on such short notice.”
Short notice. Padmé restrained a humorless laugh. “I’ll contact you tomorrow,” she said distantly.
Nodding gratefully, Jamilla said, “Thank you. We’ll speak with you then.” Her image flickered and vanished.
Padmé sat back and rubbed her forehead wearily. She needed time to sort her thoughts; they were swirling around her head too swiftly. Fiddling with the knob on the holo projector, she tried to make sense of the strange feeling that was rushing over her.
It was relief.
She knew what to do with this. Request Senator Remti’s files, spend the next few days studying them and making notes, view all available records of recent Senate sessions, arrange for quarters in the residential zone of Coruscant – every detail, right down to what sort of wardrobe she would need. And she knew she would be good at it. She was no novice at Senatorial procedure; she had been tutored by no less than the Supreme Chancellor, when he had still been a Senator of course. She had the skills, and she had the passion to serve her people with all her heart.
It would be safe. Oh, public leaders always risked physical dangers by giving up an anonymous life, but she wasn’t thinking of bodily safety. She was recalling the uncertain, unexplored landscape of love, marriage and family that had loomed before her last night, and she sought refuge in something familiar. She could retreat into a comfortable role. All of her skills put to good use. She could continue to hide from the gaping holes in her life.
Padmé breathed in and out, feeling sick. Her relief was quickly slipping into shame. Public office wasn’t meant to be a hiding-place. What use could she be to her people if she served them entirely out of selfish reasons? Certainly there was no shortage of self-serving politicians in the Republic, but Padmé was not about to become one of them. If she took this position, it would be because she was qualified for it and no one else was available. Otherwise, she would have to bear a stinging conscience all the way to Coruscant.
Padmé rose and walked slowly around her room, idly examining the holos on the walls. She had not been cowardly when she joined the Youth Legislature. She had been brave beyond her years while pursuing the path that lead to her queenship. But she felt a pang to look at the young face staring back from the holo taken on her first day on the Legislature. Already she could see the determined stoicism that, while serving her well on the throne, would deprive her of the normal ability to form a relationship that could lead to marriage.
She rolled her eyes at herself. Her lack of proper sleep was turning her positively fatalistic. She was hardly in her twenties. Rather early to start thinking she was doomed to never find love. Besides, what sort of excuse would that be? I’m sorry, your Highness, but I must decline the position as Senator as I believe it would impede my ability to fall in love. Not that Jamilla would require any explanation...
Padmé shook her head. Nothing that concerned her own personal happiness – potential happiness, really – could even compare to the general welfare of Naboo. If she refused to serve now, at a time when she was so needed, she would regret it upon her very deathbed.
She didn’t need a day. She would contact the queen right now.
Longing
Part 3
---
The next morning, it was indeed her mother’s voice that woke her, but her tone was tense, something Padmé had certainly not expected. She sat up, trying to blink the lingering sleep from her eyes. The sun was pouring in through the windows, but she wanted to pull the covers back over her head. She had gotten at best half a night of sleep.
“It’s Queen Jamilla,” her mother said, worry edging subtly into her voice. “She wishes to speak with you.”
As Padmé’s alertness returned, she rose and looked at her mother in confusion. “Now? The ascension ceremony couldn’t have been more than an hour ago. What could she want to talk with me about?”
Her mother’s lips were pulled very tight. “I thought you were done with this.” She sounded more sad than accusatory, but Padmé felt a twinge of guilt nonetheless.
“I am,” she answered, and wished her voice sounded more certain. “This shouldn’t take long.”
“Hmm. Your breakfast will be waiting,” her mother said mildly, and left the room. Padmé pushed her hair back over her shoulders and took up her robe from its hook on the wall. She gave herself a quick glance in the mirror. Well, Jamilla couldn’t expect her to look more than somewhat presentable when she was waking her up like this. Sighing, she turned on the holo projector.
She was met with a small holo of Jamilla, sitting on the throne that Padmé had put behind her yesterday along with everything it represented. “Your Highness,” she greeted her with a bow of the head. “I hope all went well during the ceremony.”
“Yes, thank you,” Jamilla said with a smile that was genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry to trouble you at home.”
“It’s all right.” Padmé sat down, feeling a slight frown cross her face. “But I admit, I’m surprised to hear from you so soon. Is something wrong?”
Jamilla hesitated, her eyes roving for a moment to something out of sight. Padmé suspected it was one of her royal advisors. Then she looked back at Padmé, apparently steeling herself for something before speaking again. “Padmé, Senator Remti has decided to retire.”
Padmé blinked. “That’s – unexpected,” she said. “I thought he would serve at least another two terms.”
“So did he,” Jamilla said wryly. “Unfortunately, there have been health issues – a few other complications. Nothing serious, but it’s rather sudden. He’ll be leaving Coruscant immediately.” Her mouth twitched. Padmé could see she still had a bit to learn about maintaining a royal composure, but she had been no different on her first day as queen.
Padmé smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry you have to be facing something like this right away. I hope you can find a solution.”
Jamilla raised her eyebrows. “I hope so too. That is why I have contacted you.”
There was a silence. Padmé’s thoughts seemed to take a lifetime to catch up. Then it came to her like a blaster bolt. “You want me to take his place,” she said blankly.
“Padmé, I know it’s a great deal to ask. I would never ask it of you, under normal circumstances.” Jamilla looked truly pained. “But the Senate is convening in less than a week to discuss a number of crucial issues, and we can’t afford not to have a representative there.” The words were rushing over Padmé; she hardly caught their meaning. “I ask you because no one else is nearly as qualified to represent the needs of our people. We don’t have the time to prepare anyone else. I know I can trust you to serve the Naboo as faithfully in the Senate as you have here in Theed.” She looked at Padmé in true pleading. “If you decide not to, I will not think less of you. But if you agree, I will be forever in your debt. We all will.”
Another silence. At last Padmé asked, “How much time do I have to decide?”
Jamilla appeared to be looking at her advisors again. Then she turned her gaze back on Padmé and said, “Until tomorrow morning.” She added earnestly. “I’m sorry. We have to know if we need to find someone else on such short notice.”
Short notice. Padmé restrained a humorless laugh. “I’ll contact you tomorrow,” she said distantly.
Nodding gratefully, Jamilla said, “Thank you. We’ll speak with you then.” Her image flickered and vanished.
Padmé sat back and rubbed her forehead wearily. She needed time to sort her thoughts; they were swirling around her head too swiftly. Fiddling with the knob on the holo projector, she tried to make sense of the strange feeling that was rushing over her.
It was relief.
She knew what to do with this. Request Senator Remti’s files, spend the next few days studying them and making notes, view all available records of recent Senate sessions, arrange for quarters in the residential zone of Coruscant – every detail, right down to what sort of wardrobe she would need. And she knew she would be good at it. She was no novice at Senatorial procedure; she had been tutored by no less than the Supreme Chancellor, when he had still been a Senator of course. She had the skills, and she had the passion to serve her people with all her heart.
It would be safe. Oh, public leaders always risked physical dangers by giving up an anonymous life, but she wasn’t thinking of bodily safety. She was recalling the uncertain, unexplored landscape of love, marriage and family that had loomed before her last night, and she sought refuge in something familiar. She could retreat into a comfortable role. All of her skills put to good use. She could continue to hide from the gaping holes in her life.
Padmé breathed in and out, feeling sick. Her relief was quickly slipping into shame. Public office wasn’t meant to be a hiding-place. What use could she be to her people if she served them entirely out of selfish reasons? Certainly there was no shortage of self-serving politicians in the Republic, but Padmé was not about to become one of them. If she took this position, it would be because she was qualified for it and no one else was available. Otherwise, she would have to bear a stinging conscience all the way to Coruscant.
Padmé rose and walked slowly around her room, idly examining the holos on the walls. She had not been cowardly when she joined the Youth Legislature. She had been brave beyond her years while pursuing the path that lead to her queenship. But she felt a pang to look at the young face staring back from the holo taken on her first day on the Legislature. Already she could see the determined stoicism that, while serving her well on the throne, would deprive her of the normal ability to form a relationship that could lead to marriage.
She rolled her eyes at herself. Her lack of proper sleep was turning her positively fatalistic. She was hardly in her twenties. Rather early to start thinking she was doomed to never find love. Besides, what sort of excuse would that be? I’m sorry, your Highness, but I must decline the position as Senator as I believe it would impede my ability to fall in love. Not that Jamilla would require any explanation...
Padmé shook her head. Nothing that concerned her own personal happiness – potential happiness, really – could even compare to the general welfare of Naboo. If she refused to serve now, at a time when she was so needed, she would regret it upon her very deathbed.
She didn’t need a day. She would contact the queen right now.
