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matrilThis one has some dubious pseudo-political stuff, but I never claimed to be politically-savvy. ;P
Alone at last, Padmé could allow herself the luxury of a good cry. Through all the frustration and worries and burdens of the day, she had kept back her tears, handled Naboo's growing problems stoically, like a respectable monarch. But now, in the solitude of her chambers, she let herself sob.
Sabé, who had worked in the palace for a few years before becoming the queen's handmaiden, had assured her that the walls of the royal chambers were soundproof. Had the architects anticipated that some childish monarch would need to muffle her cries? More likely they expected the queen to hold secret conferences away from the ears of spies. Whatever the reason, she was glad no one would hear her. Surely the people of Naboo already had enough doubts about her capabilities as queen; they didn't need to know she was crying like a baby.
After her tears had been mostly spent, she curled up on her bed with her knees drawn up to her chin. She was wearing a light nightgown, having shed the elaborate, cumbersome garb of Amidala. On her first day as queen, she had thrilled to put on the exquisite gown and headpiece, to wear the traditional face-paint, and see herself in the mirror, as grand as all the kings and queens of Naboo's long history. It had become steadily less exciting and more tiresome with each day.
If only a heavy dress were the worst thing she had to deal with.
She had scarcely had time to adjust to her new position before the Federation made their move. Obviously, the timing was no coincidence. They had been waiting for the new, inexperienced queen to enter the palace, assuming she would be cowed by their boldness and their imposing ships. Padmé gritted her teeth. She intended to teach them that they had underestimated her. The only trouble was, she hadn't the slightest idea what to do.
The Naboo were a staunchly peaceful people. The last thing Padmé wanted was to be the first monarch in centuries to lead them into war. And even if they didn't disagree with aggression on principle, war with the Federation was suicide. She had to find a peaceful solution.
Since the blockade began several weeks ago, she had been in continual consultation with her advisors, working out every contingency, seeking a course of action that would let the Federation know their blockade was unacceptable without endangering the Naboo. So far, they had only found dead ends. Padmé could only keep an expressionless face for so long. Her advisors had long succumbed to worried frowns. The situation was grim, and growing grimmer. Naboo was mostly self-sufficient, but they could not go on forever with no shipping on or off of the planet. Something would have to change. And she would have to be the one to bring about that change, somehow. Her people had entrusted her with their world; it was her duty to restore free trade and peace.
In her weakest moments, she wondered what she was doing here. She could be at home with her family, letting someone else work out this mess. Swim in the lake, lie on the beach, listen to the birds sing...But whenever she imagined that, two things came to her mind. Firstly, she knew all too well that if she were at home, she would be itching to go to Theed and help out somehow. She could never stay behind when there were injustices to fight. Second, she recalled the little thing she had done four years ago, the first time she had made a difference. If it weren't for her determination to do good, the Skywalkers would still be slaves.
And there were still thousands of other slaves, and trade blockades, and cruelty and indifference and injustice, from Coruscant to every far corner of the galaxy. So Padmé had to combat them. She couldn't rest or doubt her choices.
So she dried her tears and went to bed, and if her eyes were bleary the next morning from a restless night, no one seemed to notice through the face-paint and flowing headdress.
The morning was a flurry of reports to be looked through, procedures to be authorized, and strategies to consider. “Your Highness, we have several reports from outlying counties...they're beginning to suffer a few shortages...” “No word yet from the Galactic Senate, though Senator Palpatine assures us he has been forwarding our cause as much as he can...” “The Viceroy did not respond to our request for a negotiation, but I assume you want us to keep trying...” “We need your authorization for some engineers to attach a backup shield-generator prototype on your ship...” “Your Highness! The Supreme Chancellor has contacted us and wishes to speak with you!”
Padmé looked up from a pile of datapads, startled. “The Chancellor?” she repeated blankly.
Captain Panaka, always wary, checked his commlink. “It's true, your Highness. It's a transmission direct from Coruscant.”
“Then I will speak with him,” Padmé said with what, she thought, was an admirably calm voice. She shifted in her throne, hoping she didn't look too small or dazed as the Chancellor's hologram appeared.
“Queen Amidala,” he greeted her with a nod. She nodded back, hoping the gesture showed the proper respect. “Your representative, Senator Palpatine, has alerted me to the severe problems your people are facing. I apologize. I should have been aware of this sooner, but news travels with remarkable slowness in the capital, particularly when it is concerned with protocols and trade disputes.”
She liked his candor and dry wit; more than that, she appreciated his concern, evidenced by taking the time to speak to her personally. “Thank you, Chancellor.” She paused, then hoped she wasn't being too bold to say, “We would like to know if we can find support in the Senate.”
The hologram fuzzed slightly, but Padmé suspected that the Chancellor was hiding a frown. “I will do all I can. This originated here, after all, in the taxation disputes that angered the Federation enough to take this drastic step. Their behavior is unacceptable; I am sure that most of the Senate will agree with me. In the meantime...” He hesitated, almost as if he were making sure that not one was eavesdropping. “I am hoping to arrange for some ambassadors to be sent to your system. It is not....technically...in keeping with diplomatic protocol...but I believe the situation justifies it.”
Was he offering to break the law for her? Surely nothing that extreme; perhaps just a minor regulation or too. Still, Padmé was gratified. “You have our deepest thanks, Chancellor. Any help is greatly appreciated. And knowing that we have allies in the Senate is a considerable comfort.”
The Supreme Chancellor nodded. “I will notify you of any further developments by way of your Senator. I trust you will use discretion in your reception of the ambassadors.”
“Certainly. Thank you, Chancellor.”
His hologram fizzled out, and Padmé looked to her advisors. Most looked heartened by this news, but Sio Bibble was frowning.
“What is it?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “Ambassadors? I appreciate the Supreme Chancellor's efforts, but we have tried diplomacy again and again. The Federation is not interested in negotiating. They won't relent until their considerable greed is satisfied.”
Padmé was long accustomed to his cynicism; indeed, it was a useful counterpart to her idealism. Undismayed she replied, “We do not know anything about these ambassadors. They may have talents in diplomacy that we haven't ourselves. Until they have tried, let us remain hopeful.”
And she was hopeful, more than she had been in some time. The feeling rose up and seemed to carry her down the palace hallways as she took her midday break. She felt almost jubilant, like a carefree girl again, as she passed the doors leading to the main hanger and continued to her quarters.
Alone at last, Padmé could allow herself the luxury of a good cry. Through all the frustration and worries and burdens of the day, she had kept back her tears, handled Naboo's growing problems stoically, like a respectable monarch. But now, in the solitude of her chambers, she let herself sob.
Sabé, who had worked in the palace for a few years before becoming the queen's handmaiden, had assured her that the walls of the royal chambers were soundproof. Had the architects anticipated that some childish monarch would need to muffle her cries? More likely they expected the queen to hold secret conferences away from the ears of spies. Whatever the reason, she was glad no one would hear her. Surely the people of Naboo already had enough doubts about her capabilities as queen; they didn't need to know she was crying like a baby.
After her tears had been mostly spent, she curled up on her bed with her knees drawn up to her chin. She was wearing a light nightgown, having shed the elaborate, cumbersome garb of Amidala. On her first day as queen, she had thrilled to put on the exquisite gown and headpiece, to wear the traditional face-paint, and see herself in the mirror, as grand as all the kings and queens of Naboo's long history. It had become steadily less exciting and more tiresome with each day.
If only a heavy dress were the worst thing she had to deal with.
She had scarcely had time to adjust to her new position before the Federation made their move. Obviously, the timing was no coincidence. They had been waiting for the new, inexperienced queen to enter the palace, assuming she would be cowed by their boldness and their imposing ships. Padmé gritted her teeth. She intended to teach them that they had underestimated her. The only trouble was, she hadn't the slightest idea what to do.
The Naboo were a staunchly peaceful people. The last thing Padmé wanted was to be the first monarch in centuries to lead them into war. And even if they didn't disagree with aggression on principle, war with the Federation was suicide. She had to find a peaceful solution.
Since the blockade began several weeks ago, she had been in continual consultation with her advisors, working out every contingency, seeking a course of action that would let the Federation know their blockade was unacceptable without endangering the Naboo. So far, they had only found dead ends. Padmé could only keep an expressionless face for so long. Her advisors had long succumbed to worried frowns. The situation was grim, and growing grimmer. Naboo was mostly self-sufficient, but they could not go on forever with no shipping on or off of the planet. Something would have to change. And she would have to be the one to bring about that change, somehow. Her people had entrusted her with their world; it was her duty to restore free trade and peace.
In her weakest moments, she wondered what she was doing here. She could be at home with her family, letting someone else work out this mess. Swim in the lake, lie on the beach, listen to the birds sing...But whenever she imagined that, two things came to her mind. Firstly, she knew all too well that if she were at home, she would be itching to go to Theed and help out somehow. She could never stay behind when there were injustices to fight. Second, she recalled the little thing she had done four years ago, the first time she had made a difference. If it weren't for her determination to do good, the Skywalkers would still be slaves.
And there were still thousands of other slaves, and trade blockades, and cruelty and indifference and injustice, from Coruscant to every far corner of the galaxy. So Padmé had to combat them. She couldn't rest or doubt her choices.
So she dried her tears and went to bed, and if her eyes were bleary the next morning from a restless night, no one seemed to notice through the face-paint and flowing headdress.
The morning was a flurry of reports to be looked through, procedures to be authorized, and strategies to consider. “Your Highness, we have several reports from outlying counties...they're beginning to suffer a few shortages...” “No word yet from the Galactic Senate, though Senator Palpatine assures us he has been forwarding our cause as much as he can...” “The Viceroy did not respond to our request for a negotiation, but I assume you want us to keep trying...” “We need your authorization for some engineers to attach a backup shield-generator prototype on your ship...” “Your Highness! The Supreme Chancellor has contacted us and wishes to speak with you!”
Padmé looked up from a pile of datapads, startled. “The Chancellor?” she repeated blankly.
Captain Panaka, always wary, checked his commlink. “It's true, your Highness. It's a transmission direct from Coruscant.”
“Then I will speak with him,” Padmé said with what, she thought, was an admirably calm voice. She shifted in her throne, hoping she didn't look too small or dazed as the Chancellor's hologram appeared.
“Queen Amidala,” he greeted her with a nod. She nodded back, hoping the gesture showed the proper respect. “Your representative, Senator Palpatine, has alerted me to the severe problems your people are facing. I apologize. I should have been aware of this sooner, but news travels with remarkable slowness in the capital, particularly when it is concerned with protocols and trade disputes.”
She liked his candor and dry wit; more than that, she appreciated his concern, evidenced by taking the time to speak to her personally. “Thank you, Chancellor.” She paused, then hoped she wasn't being too bold to say, “We would like to know if we can find support in the Senate.”
The hologram fuzzed slightly, but Padmé suspected that the Chancellor was hiding a frown. “I will do all I can. This originated here, after all, in the taxation disputes that angered the Federation enough to take this drastic step. Their behavior is unacceptable; I am sure that most of the Senate will agree with me. In the meantime...” He hesitated, almost as if he were making sure that not one was eavesdropping. “I am hoping to arrange for some ambassadors to be sent to your system. It is not....technically...in keeping with diplomatic protocol...but I believe the situation justifies it.”
Was he offering to break the law for her? Surely nothing that extreme; perhaps just a minor regulation or too. Still, Padmé was gratified. “You have our deepest thanks, Chancellor. Any help is greatly appreciated. And knowing that we have allies in the Senate is a considerable comfort.”
The Supreme Chancellor nodded. “I will notify you of any further developments by way of your Senator. I trust you will use discretion in your reception of the ambassadors.”
“Certainly. Thank you, Chancellor.”
His hologram fizzled out, and Padmé looked to her advisors. Most looked heartened by this news, but Sio Bibble was frowning.
“What is it?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “Ambassadors? I appreciate the Supreme Chancellor's efforts, but we have tried diplomacy again and again. The Federation is not interested in negotiating. They won't relent until their considerable greed is satisfied.”
Padmé was long accustomed to his cynicism; indeed, it was a useful counterpart to her idealism. Undismayed she replied, “We do not know anything about these ambassadors. They may have talents in diplomacy that we haven't ourselves. Until they have tried, let us remain hopeful.”
And she was hopeful, more than she had been in some time. The feeling rose up and seemed to carry her down the palace hallways as she took her midday break. She felt almost jubilant, like a carefree girl again, as she passed the doors leading to the main hanger and continued to her quarters.
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no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 04:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-27 10:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-31 01:33 am (UTC)*cracking up* Knowing just who those "ambassadors" are makes this line incredibly funny. I like the approach you're taking as we move into the AU, by giving us scenes that are informed by our knowledge from the movie.