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The Courtship of Padme Amidala
Chancellor Palpatine was bored, which was an unusual state to be in at the moment, because all around him senators, diplomats, and even a few queens and kings chattered and laughed in lighthearted cheer. The year's newest senators, the guests of honor, stood in the center of the large jungle-themed atrium, shaking a wide array of appendages and smiling far too much. Over two hundred fresh faces had joined the Senate this year in a series of astounding dark horse elections.
Nearly every surprising overturn, if one could trace them back, was thanks to the currently apathetic leader of the Republic. A significant political coup, Palpatine supposed, but those came to him so often these days, he found it difficult to get excited about this latest one. He was only doing what he needed to, replacing the senators who might give him trouble for the fast-approaching war… a war that he was constructing.
The faces he had chosen to fill the Senate pods were mostly young, untried politicians with a love of the night life and ambitious self-serving personalities. As long as he provided a way for these imbeciles to preserve their pensions and retreat homes, they would toe his party line until he could discard them at his leisure.
One of the service droids approached him with a tray of caviar, and he waved it away. Tonight he was not hungry, not in any manner of the word. His own disinterest surprised him. I believe I may be – how does Anakin like to put it – in a rut? Everything is proceeding so smoothly that the challenge is gone. The Council remains blind to my presence, the Senate is eating from my hand, and Anakin comes to visit more with each passing month.
Perhaps the war could be moved forward. He would consider it but for the few critical allies he still required in the Outer Rim. Nothing could be left to chance in these last years before he ripped the galaxy apart. And so, his lack of stimulation would have to continue. He would stroke the Senate's ego and take in the collective wisdom of the Jedi with wide eyes. He would watch while the best and brightest of the galaxy frittered their wealth away on parties such as this.
Palpatine disregarded a new passing tray of vegetarian gluvach rolls. The smell of the Gran delicacy almost turned his stomach. He remembered seeing mounds of the rolls on the table at Pax Teem's crowded feast, before Darth Sidious had slaughtered the whole bleating herd. The memory was beating back the boredom, but he had to be careful here. A few Jedi wandered the party, aloof but alert. Murderous feelings would attract their attention if anything could. He offered a genteel smile to a female Zabrak Knight as she padded by.
Serene, she bowed in reply but said nothing, continuing her perimeter around the large circular room. Palpatine's smile slid to a contemplative smirk as he watched her go. I could turn my eyes yellow, and the Jedi Council would politely inquire about my jaundice. These years of plenty have done more for the Cause than any hardship could. The Jedi have grown as soft as a ripe Naboo plum, nearly ready for picking. He briefly entertained the thought, imagining the surprise as they were crushed in his hands, their blood flowing between his fingers like fresh juice.
Just not yet…he sighed. The sound caught the ears of his companions, including Ask Aak, Janus Greejatus, and Silya Shessaun. The human senator of Thesme set her wine glass down on her droid's tray and leaned forward.
"Are you all right, Supreme Chancellor?" She asked, and received no answer. The whole group was wondering why Palpatine was here, on the edge of the thriving party, content to watch and not participate. Normally, their active Chancellor was never one to shy from the gazes of others, but tonight he had barely entered any conversation at all, only greeting and smiling at the hundreds of fawning faces.
"Chancellor Palpatine?" Shessaun asked again, this time reaching forward and touching his arm. Palpatine finally noticed her and the others, subtly shifting away from her slender fingers and straightening.
"My apologies… What did you say, my dear?"
Shessaun smiled hesitantly. "I only asked if you were all right. You've been very withdrawn. Even Janus is worried."
Palpatine glanced at Greejatus without really seeing his advisor. "I assure you, I am well," he said quietly. "I have such a…busy…workload these days, I hardly know what to do with time like this."
Shessaun bobbed her head in understanding. Ignorant girl, Palpatine thought as he smiled at the senator. She is honored by my attention but has no clue that she is being monitored and not befriended. Keep your enemies close and they will have no room to strike. The Thesmian was a close friend of Padme Amidala's, and the two were rarely seen far from each other at events like these. Actually, the object of Skywalker's affection was nowhere in sight, which was curious now that he considered it.
"But enough about me," Palpatine broke the uncertain silence with ease. "How are you lately? What have you and Senator Amidala been up to?" His half-grin was conspiratorial, lighthearted, teasing.
Shessaun shook her head. "Actually, Padme hasn't been feeling well. She had a bad – well, it's not my place to say."
Since when did that stop a senator? Palpatine wondered but let his mirth slide away as quickly as it had come. "I regret hearing that, Silya. I do hope her year in the Senate has not overwhelmed her. I should feel very guilty, since I pressured her to join us here on Coruscant." To serve as Anakin's Greatest Temptation.
"Oh no, she becomes a stronger Senator every day," Shessaun gushed. "I admire her fire, her dedication to her people. She has made the transition from queen exceptionally well, and the others already respect her."
"Her conviction is never lacking," Palpatine agreed. "I find myself relying on that youthful vigor at times. Is she here tonight?"
Shassaun pursed her lips briefly in contemplation. "I can't say. She did come here, but she may have left already."
"I think I may seek her out and inquire after her health then," Palpatine announced. "I have not spoken with my old friend in many days. If you will excuse me," and with a bow, he was moving away from the group, his security detail slipping in behind him.
Moving with efficiency through the crowd was a challenge, as nearly every creature present wished to clasp his hand and garner his blessings. He thought about the former queen of Naboo; when things went wrong for her, she either grew very stubborn and refused to budge until the battle was over, or she fled to some dark corner and moped alone. He had not served as her senator for years without noticing such traits, and he had always been able to discern her presence from those of the handmaidens.
Since she was not debating her latest social pet project in the atrium, he resigned himself to searching the darker balconies. He found her huddled in the shadows on the western balcony, clutching a nearly empty glass of wine, her formal gown wrinkled and her head hanging low.
"Senator Amidala?"
She whirled clumsily, startled. "Who's there?"
Palpatine glided down the balcony steps and stopped a meter from her side. "An old friend, I trust. Are you all right?"
Padme's eyes grew wide as she finally recognized him. "Supreme Chancellor Palpatine?" She giggled suddenly and bowed, overbalancing and nearly falling if not for his quick reaction. He caught her by the arm and pulled her upright, propping her against the railing again.
Palpatine studied her closely, noting the way her watery eyes went in and out of focus, observing her unsteady stance as she leaned against the railing for support. Well, now, this was interesting: Padme Amidala, ice-queen of self control, entirely intoxicated.
"Why, Senator, I do believe you are drunk!"
"Every girl has a right to get drunk after what I've been through," Padme retorted. "Men! Sorry, Chancellor," she slurred.
Palpatine did not need to try for an awkward cough. It came naturally enough. "I think I might understand. We…eh, men, can sometimes be difficult." He backed up a step and gave his personal guard a stern glance: disappear. They melted into the shadows immediately. "May I ask, what has happened?"
"Senator Rush Clovis happened, Chancellor," Padme frowned, spinning the dregs of her drink in the glass. "You may or may not have heard, but we were…close."
"Ah." Of course, he had known. Very little escaped his attention these days. And of course, through him, Anakin Skywalker had found out and stewed for weeks. The boy's petty jealousy had been terribly amusing. "I had heard rumors…"
"We met when we were both new to the Senate, during the introduction galas. In fact, it was at a party like this one. Have you ever met him?"
"Once or twice." Quite a few times, to be honest, twisting the young senator and encouraging his misuse of his status as senator. Well, actually, Kinman Doriana had been the major corrupting tool, but it was all the same to him as long as Clovis's pesky morals were weakened. And now, judging from the righteous Padme Amidala's reaction, he had been most successful.
"Well, it doesn't matter. We broke off the relationship last week." Padme thrust her delicate hands out over the balcony, as if proclaiming her status to the city-planet itself. Palpatine stared at her in concern. Well, that is good news. She will be burned by this experience, and she should be ready to try again once Anakin is old enough in a few years. Everything is transpiring as it should.
"I sincerely hope you will feel better soon, my lady," he offered after a long silence.
"Feel better? That man! I hate him!" Padme squeaked with startling loudness and threw her wine glass out over the railing. One of the maintenance droids snatched it from the air, and the young woman sagged on the balcony railing.
And such impotent hatred it is, Palpatine mused and felt a small twinge of pity. Inconsequential ants, these Force-blind wretches… traveling so low to the path that they could never comprehend the destination, vulnerable to the boots of those who could. They needed order and structure, a plan for their own protection. Without it, they were carried by the fickle winds of their emotions and sightless ambitions. The Jedi foolishly believed that all deserved freedom, but Palpatine knew: leave a group of dumb animals alone and all you get is chaos. Just look at the Senate.
He stood next to her for several minutes, waiting out the long and rasping sobs, amusing himself with counting traffic in the nearby lanes and contemplating his latest orders to Dooku. Finally, Padme lifted her head and looked at him, mascara smeared in dark streaks down her cheeks.
"I hate him," she hiccupped and wiped at her nose. "I did what I had to do, and he just blew up. He blew up."
"Did he harm you?" Palpatine injected a sufficient amount of alarm into his voice. This is a complication that might be useful. Skywalker would be furious if he found out.
Padme's mouth dropped open. "Oh no, he didn't hurt me. He just got so angry and yelled, a lot. Rush never had very good control of his emotions. In fact, that's how we became close. After I was done being Queen, I didn't have to hide my true feelings any longer, and Rush – no, Senator Clovis – was a breath of fresh air." She pulled a small handkerchief out of her dress pocket and wiped at her eyes.
"The Senate is a place of discovery, very different from our strictly regulated world," Palpatine agreed: amiable, low, comforting. "I believe you performed very successfully during your first year. The sheer number of humanitarian reforms you have introduced astound me. Very few first-term senators have the influence you wield."
"I worry sometimes I come off too strongly," Padme glanced at him. "I feel I alienate many of the other senators."
Palpatine gritted his teeth in a hidden smile. "We cannot make everyone happy, Senator Amidala. To think we could is to entertain foolishness. Instead, we must do what we know is right and take the consequences in stride."
"You've told me that often, and it's true, I know. You've always been there to show me the truth, to cut to the heart of the matter." Padme's gaze darkened. "Senator Clovis didn't think like that. He wanted to go along with popular opinion, to not 'make waves,' he said. We fought about that."
"And that drove you apart?"
"It was my choice. He doesn't take his responsibility seriously. He's there to party, not improve the Republic. I was right to cut our relationship off. I had real problems to deal with, professional problems," her eyes flashed up at him, seeking agreement, seeking a confirmation of her indignant anger.
Palpatine felt something inside his brain twitch: not nearly admiration, but an acknowledgement of a kindred ambition, a shared desire to set things right. Granted, their visions of "right" may have differed, but he saw in her the same single-minded and goal-oriented nature, if only she could suppress her pathetic emotional impulses. Unfortunate that she was blind to the Force; she might have made a talented Dark-Side Adept.
Never one to indulge long in wishful thinking, Palpatine nodded. "Many senators come to Coruscant for less than noble reasons, most through political favors or ladder-climbing. Few understand the importance of eliminating the corruption that threatens to undo us all."
"But, you understand," Padme sighed, leaning closer, turning toward him slightly. "You know all about duty and doing the right thing. That's why you are our Supreme Chancellor."
Palpatine smiled. "I try to keep on the straight and narrow, if you will." He stiffened, as she had reached over and taken his right hand in both of hers, studying it. Quickly, he touched the Darkness of his mind to hers, and was genuinely surprised to find a happy, misguided, and definitely drunken attraction lurking in her small brain.
"You guided me in my darkest moments, I owe you so much. All of Naboo owes you so much," Padme pressed his hand, "and now, the entire Republic looks to you to end this corruption."
Danger! Something screamed in the Force, and Palpatine pulled his hand out of hers. To take advantage of the confused woman's state was tempting. With his charisma and the guidance of the Dark Side, Padme Amidala could be his so easily. But to claim her would be to rob Skywalker of his catalyst to the Dark Side. In fact, it could turn the boy against him.
Too much rode on the Chosen One to indulge in a passing fantasy, no matter how beautiful or willing. "My lady? Are you well?" he asked when she frowned at him.
"Well enough." She sidled closer, and he shifted away. "I might be drunk, but I have always admired you, as my mentor and as my friend. But you are always so distant from us, like you come from another universe." Padme's eyes were glazed as she stared at him, and Palpatine almost double-checked to make certain he was not influencing her. Drink certainly does bring out some interesting truths.
Padme was not deterred by his withdrawal, reaching out to brush her hands across the black velvet of his vest. "You know, you got me into this whole senator mess. I should be mad at you…but I'm not."
"Well, that is…good?" If you had any sense, you would be trying to kill me, Palpatine began to sardonically think, but he was cut off as Padme suddenly moved, pushing him back against the wall of the balcony and pressing her lips to his with desperate hunger. He grunted in shock, and she wound her arms over his shoulders in reply, pulling his head toward hers.
This should not be. But he felt his eyes sliding shut, his resistance falling away in the face of such tantalizing, such breathtaking perfection. Useless, she would be useless to you. She must turn the boy. It was getting harder to focus, harder to breathe. What harm could it do? Her hands raked through his whitening hair, her mouth insistent, demanding.
The boy. The Plan. You will not deny the Plan. The thought seared its way into his fuzzy mind, burning the fire with its ice-cold purpose. Instantly the weakness bled away; instantly, Palpatine knew his place again, and he reached up and took her arms from his shoulders, pushing her back.
Padme made a soft sound of protest. "No."
"No," Palpatine repeated, his voice firm with the power of his office. "No, Your Highness. You are not yourself tonight. The alcohol will dissipate, and you will remember that you are a twenty-two year old Senator, and I am a fifty-eight year old Supreme Chancellor. You would regret it, I know your caliber."
"But…I, I just wanted…" Padme blushed bright red. "I don't know what I wanted." She put a trembling hand over her mouth. "Oh my, I just…I just hit on the Supreme Chancellor…oh no…"
"An honest mistake," Palpatine forced a chuckle, and slowly he released her arms. She rubbed them in embarrassment and backed away. "We need not speak of this again, I am sure." Or think of it again, either.
Shivering now, Padme slumped down to sit against the railing. "It would be a scandal if anyone found out. I'm sorry. I hope we can still – "
"Be friends? I could not imagine it any other way, Senator Amidala," he knelt by her side, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We are both professionals, and we will do great things together still." You are still useful to me, and now soon, to Anakin.
Padme's eyes closed with exhaustion. "I just hope I can forget this night. That's all I want now."
"You will." Palpatine studied her face, beautiful and worn. She was still highly inebriated and likely would never recall her bold actions, but his Chancellorship was not built on probabilities. So Darth Sidious leaned over the quiet girl and placed his hand on her forehead, sinking her deep into slumber and wiping the memory without hesitation.
His own memories would last significantly longer, but memories were just that. They could be useful, but their power over him was limited. So Supreme Chancellor Palpatine politely informed the building's security that Senator Amidala was in need of assistance on the western balcony. Then he returned to the party, though at least now he was no longer bored.
Alcohol makes even the most sensible people do very strange things. I've seen it happen. This scenario takes place in 24 BBY and is based of the Clone Wars second-season character of Rush Clovis, an old flame of Padme's. From their interactions in the early films and books, I've always gotten the impression that Palpatine and Padme were decently close friends at the start, or at least Padme thought they were. Apologies for any grammar errors within.
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