"It is clear to me now that the Republic no longer functions. I pray you will bring sanity and compassion back to the Senate."
– Queen Amidala to Senator Palpatine (The Phantom Menace)
"Together, we will bring peace and prosperity to the Republic."
– Chancellor Palpatine to Queen Amidala (The Phantom Menace)
Senator Palpatine requested an audience so that we could go over strategies. It was good to see him again, and to confer with him. He's always been one of my most trusted advisors. When those on the Council of Governors doubted my abilities, he always backed me. Together, we should be able to sway the Senate.
– Queen Amidala's diary (Episode I Journal: Queen Amidala by Jude Watson)
A Promise of War
When Queen Amidala found the flower on her pillow, her first thought was that one of her admirers must have bribed a maid to sneak it into her bedchamber. She repressed the impulse to shake her head in annoyance, an action that would have been uncomfortable while wearing this heavy headdress, as well as undignified.
She had many more admirers now that she was being hailed as the warrior queen who had defeated the Trade Federation. It wasn't right that she received all the credit; while the strategy had been hers, she couldn't have done it without the Gungans, the royal guards and pilots, the two brave Jedi, her loyal decoy, and the little boy from Tatooine. Even so, she was thankful that the Governing Council no longer refused to take her seriously because of her age. It had been a very frustrating time when Senator Palpatine and Governor Bibble had been her only allies.
Palpatine had gone as far as to suggest she abolish the council. It is in your power, he had whispered to her during a meeting. You have no need of them. Do not let the lack of historical precedent deter you. Your boldness will be respected and all will see what a grave error it is to mistake you for a mere child who can easily be controlled.
She had retorted that she had no desire to incite rebellion or to rule through fear. It had been the first time she had ever ignored his advice. (The second and only other time had been when he had warned her not to return to Naboo lest the Federation "destroy" her.)
A sweet, heady scent tickled her nose, bringing her attention back to the flower lying innocently on her pillow. If this was a gift, the choice of flower was of poor taste. If it was a practical joke, it could have been amusing in different circumstances, but not so soon after a war that could have lasted much longer than a day.
It was a rose unlike any rose she had seen before, with black petals speckled with flecks of scarlet that looked like drops of blood. A chill crawled down her arms.
She had read the legends about the death rose. To the Naboo, death roses were the symbol of war, because they grew where blood had been spilled during the vicious battles between the colonists and the Gungans before the Great Time of Peace. Although beautiful, death roses were a poisoned gift. According to legend, all the queens who had received one had died before the age of thirty.
Her shoulders stiffened. She would not be frightened by a flower. Without further deliberation, she picked it up, careful to avoid the thorns.
A note fluttered through the air; she caught it with her left hand before it could fall to the floor. The words printed upon it did not succeed in their evident purpose of inspiring fear.
Queen Amidala,
As your enemy, I congratulate you
on this victory that you will regret.
Her eyebrow twitched. So this was not an ill-chosen present, but a threat, a dark promise from someone in the Trade Federation. An enemy who had entered and exited her bedchamber undetected.
Captain Panaka would have to search the palace for intruders. She winced, thinking about the effect this would have on her overprotective security chief. Just because her predecessor, King Veruna, had been assassinated and the murderer had never been caught –
She stared at the rose, inhaling its balmy fragrance. An unqueenly giggle bubbled in her throat when she imagined Nute Gunray sending her this gift. But that was impossible. Gunray was in custody.
She couldn't stifle a tiny smile at the memory of tearing apart that abominable treaty and throwing the pieces in his face. The foul Neimoidian had turned gray with fear when faced with a blaster aimed at his chest – puzzling cowardice for someone who had had the audacity to blockade and invade her planet, in blatant violation of Republic law. But it was not good to gloat, even in the privacy of her mind.
Viceroy Gunray couldn't have sent her this even if he wasn't currently in a prison cell beneath her palace. The sender who proclaimed himself her enemy could only be someone who was familiar with the traditions of her people. The implications would have alarmed another kind of queen.
Another kind of queen would have stayed on Coruscant, and Naboo would have stayed under occupation for who knew how long.
This queen had faced death in battle. This queen had confronted the Trade Federation and the Republic's corrupt bureaucracy, and had ultimately triumphed over both.
War was a terrible evil, as she had learned firsthand. But they would never have to experience it again. Her people had been saved, and the galaxy was a better place. The Trade Federation – humbled and soon to be brought to justice for its crimes. The droid army – destroyed. Valorum's cowardly government which had allowed the invasion to happen – removed from power. And Valorum himself – replaced by a man who was above corruption and who would act in the best interests of Naboo. Why would she ever regret this?
She broke off the thorny stem and threw it and the threatening note into the garbage basket. Smiling defiantly, she clipped the flower to her hair with a jeweled pin.
She met the determined eyes of her reflection in the mirror. When I am taunted, I taunt back.
Calmly, she turned to meet Rabé and Eirtaé, who were waiting outside the open doors in silver cloaks selected to complement and offset her silver-accented purple dress. Tonight it was their turn to accompany her on her daily walk through the royal gardens.
Standing beside a lantern, surrounded by the scent of flowers and the soothing sound of waterfalls, she raised her gaze to the sky. Tasia, the ice moon, hung above the palace like a lampdisc.
She breathed deeply. Never again would she take this beauty and peace for granted. The Trade Federation would have destroyed all this. Nute Gunray would have enslaved her people and turned her planet into a ball of durasteel and concrete much uglier than Coruscant. She shuddered, and anger flashed through her, the same fiery rage she had felt when Valorum had refused to fight for the rights and lives of her people.
Closing her eyes, she silently thanked the Gods for placing Jar Jar Binks on her path.
The only thing worth seeing on Coruscant had been the sunset, of which she had had a magnificent view from her ambassador's– now former ambassador's apartment. She wouldn't mind seeing it again.
She tensed, her pulse speeding up wildly as someone stepped out from behind a pillar with barely a sound, their shadow falling on her. In a moment of panic, she regretted ignoring Captain Panaka's advice to carry a blaster at all times. She stood petrified for a breathless instant before she recognized the person in front of her and exhaled in relief. Think of the devil...
Her face lost its mask of solemn stillness and involuntarily broke into a grin. "Good evening, Chancellor. I wasn't expecting to meet you here."
He was staring at her with a strange, perplexed expression. She realized he was looking at the flower in her hair.
"Your Majesty, I apologize for disturbing you." He bowed his head in greeting, belatedly. "I wished to take a last look at this fine garden before returning to Coruscant."
"You are leaving so soon?" Hiding her surprise, she gestured with her hand, inviting him to walk with her.
"I must. Valorum left quite the mess behind him when he was forced out of office."
She looked down at the dark grass, hearing what he did not say: thanks to you.
"It must feel like a daunting challenge," she ventured, remembering the days after her own election, "to have such responsibility."
"It is a challenge," he agreed, but his smile was confident. "There is so much to be done. Too long has power remained in weak hands, unworthy hands. I am quite anxious to begin transforming the Republic back into the glorious power it once was."
She smiled slightly. "I truly hope you will succeed in this ambitious task."
"It is good to have your trust, because the path in front of us is fraught with obstacles. Our crisis has plunged the Senate into chaos..."
She allowed some of her concern to show on her face. "What is happening?"
His grimace of frustration did nothing to reassure her. "The Federation's delegation and allies," he said in a disgusted tone, "are in a fury over the arrest of Viceroy Gunray. They are demanding his immediate release from custody unless we can provide indisputable evidence of his crimes, and as his lawyers keep reminding me, no such evidence exists."
Her cheeks flushed under the layer of white powder on her face. "The death of hundreds of Gungans, nine pilots, and one Jedi is not evidence?"
Governor Bibble's transmission had been fake and the "catastrophic death toll" a Federation lie intended to frighten her into surrendering; instead, it had motivated her to fight, to the death if necessary. But even a single lost life would have been one too many.
"Not to the Senate," he said. "You've seen the bureaucrats in action, Your Majesty. I must warn you that your testimony will not suffice to convict the Viceroy. The Constitution requires –"
"The Constitution is in urgent need of reform, as is the way it's applied!" Her voice trembled with outrage as she thought of the systematic injustice happening on planets like Tatooine which, it seemed, were part of the Republic only in name. "The purpose of law is justice. It's unacceptable for it to be ignored or turned into an instrument of corruption."
"On that, Your Majesty, I agree with you entirely," he muttered, almost too quietly to be understood. "The Jedi... have failed in their self-appointed role of guardians of peace and justice."
She glanced over at him, raising her eyebrows. She found him glaring distractedly at the palace, where half the Jedi Council was staying in guest suites.
"They told me they could not fight a war for me," she admitted.
"They lied to you. There are over ten thousand Jedi in the galaxy, yet the Council chose to send no more than two to defend the Naboo from a droid army. The enforcers of the law are as complacent and corrupt as the legislators. In your own words, Your Majesty, the Republic no longer functions." He met her gaze with eyes blazing like blue flames. "But we will make it function. I assure you that in time, we will be able to make a real difference."
She stared. He made such grand promises! But hope was a beautiful thing, and history had taught her nothing was impossible. She chose to believe. "You have my faith."
He gave her an intense look. "Faith will not be sufficient. I will require your help."
She stopped walking abruptly, turned so that they stood opposite each other. "You will have it," she promised. Then she cast down her eyes, and bowed her head.
The gasp behind her informed her that Eirtaé, her protocol advisor, was scandalized. She had just broken rule number one: the Queen bows to no one. She had ignored this rule before, but Boss Nass of the Gungans was her equal as the leader of another nation, not one of her people. The Governing Council would be appalled.
But they didn't need to know, did they? And while she valued their advice, they did not control her. She respected rules only when they made sense, and in her opinion, parts of Naboo royal protocol made as little sense as the Senate's procedure.
When she looked up, he was smiling.
"I can see that we will have a lasting friendship." He stepped closer to her. He was staring at the flower in her hair again. "That... is not a wise choice of accessory. It is believed to bring bad luck."
She raised her chin. "I do not believe in fairy tales."
"Some legends are rooted in reality," he said softly. "It disturbs me to see you provoke fate this way."
He was so close she could see the cold gleam of the moon reflected in his eyes. He reached towards her.
The handmaidens shifted; she heard the rustling of their cloaks, but did not look at them. She stood very still while he removed the flower from her hair.
He held it in his hand, gazing at it thoughtfully. "I find this color does not suit you," he offered with a trace of an enigmatic smile.
"I disagree. I appreciate your concern," she softened her voice, "but it is unnecessary." She held out her hand.
He scrutinized her for a tense moment. Then, in an abrupt movement that made her think of a striking serpent, he placed the flower on her palm.
He watched her pin it to her dress. "Frankly, my young Queen, your boldness is..." his eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn't decipher, "admirable."
"As is your confidence, Chancellor." She gave him a warm smile. "I wish you the best of luck in your new position."
She turned to go back to the palace, then hesitated. There was one more thing she needed to say. She felt guilty for even thinking it – the price had been so high – but if anyone could understand how she felt...
"So much good has resulted from this invasion..." She took a deep breath, "In retrospect, I am almost glad it happened."
His face was an inscrutable mask. "What a shocking thing to say, Your Majesty. Why would you feel this way?"
"If the Federation hadn't attacked us, we would still be enemies of the Gungans. We wouldn't know how wrong we were about them." Seeing his frozen smile, she sighed. Did he think her blind? She knew he didn't like Gungans. He did not have to pretend otherwise. "And you wouldn't have the opportunity to do more for our planet than anyone has been able to do before."
The smile finally reached his eyes. "Not only for our planet, but for the entire galaxy! I promise you will never regret following my advice during that momentous Senate session."
She smiled back, thinking the future had never seemed so bright.
"Perhaps," he murmured, looking down at the flower now pinned over her shoulder, "this color does suit you after all."
Hands clenched at his sides, he watched her walk back to the palace. Her steps were measured and graceful. Her servants followed her like shadows. His brows furrowed as he glared at her retreating back, and for one unseen moment, his irises changed to the color of fire.
He waited until she was out of sight before he allowed his lips to curve in a malevolent smirk. You will regret it, Amidala.
END
Author's note: The events in this story happen shortly (hours or days) after the ending of The Phantom Menace.
I thought it was interesting how the relationship between Padmé and Palpatine changes between TPM, where she stubbornly does the opposite of what he says (returning to Naboo), and Attack of the Clones, where she does what he asks even when she disagrees with him (accepting Jedi protection and going into hiding). There's also the intriguing reversal in her attitude towards the Republic, from her disillusionment in TPM to the faith and devotion we see in AotC and The Clone Wars cartoon. Why was she ready to fight and die for the Republic that had failed her people a decade earlier?
I wanted to write a story exploring this evolution that I think happened over time, but the muse had its own idea, so you get to see another, more sudden way it could have happened. The birth, so to say, of Padmé's faith in the Republic, faith that won't be shaken until Palpatine starts behaving too much like a dictator in Revenge of the Sith.
What do you think? Please let me know! I hope you enjoyed reading.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Star Wars franchise. This is a work of fan fiction. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
The cover artwork is by the talented DarkJediJade. See my profile for a link to the full-size version.