Thousands of Enormous Dreams
Rating: PG
Category: vignette, romance?
Setting: Post-TPM
Summary: Unrequited love. Or is it?
Spoilers: mild TPM
Feedback: Oy! sleeperdown@yahoo.com
Website: http://www.dreamwater.net/pottedcactus/erjika
Archive: Yes! Go for it!
Disclaimer: Don't own em, no moolah for moi.
AN: Whose point of view is it? And did she really see him? That's up to you!
Series note: bowing down to etcetera is a series of stories based on e.e. cummings poems, dealing with a wide variety of subjects.
i go to this window
just as day dissolves
i see the new moon
making me feel
But now she sharpens and becomes crisper
the sprouting largest final air
plunges
when it is twilight(and
looking up in fear
thinner than a hair)
how myself has been coarse and dull
compared with you,silently who are
and cling
to my mind always
until i smile with knowing
--and all about
herself
downward thousands of enormous dreams
He pressed his hand against the window. Naboo. Again. Not nearly as often as he would have liked to come, but he was here now. That was what was important.
The lights of Theed glowed gently in the lack of moonlight, the green horizon glow of the evening fading into the velvet night. The vines climbing the palace walls formed a leafy border, accented with translucent flowers.
It was utterly silent. He couldn't even hear his own breathing in the hush-chilled air. The window muffled the breeze sweeping across the trees, gently tugging at the pale-dark branches. His hand radiated heat, crystalline droplets in faint prisms of light.
The very stillness of the moment was broken by a slight movement in the gardens below. He peered through the darkness and saw a figure fading in and out of the foliage. He smiled gently in recognition.
She glided down one of the paths, a colourless spirit in the night. As if she were part of some sacred nocturnal ceremony. He could just barely make out her features, but he could tell she wore no headdress. The responsibilities of being a queen had been shed at the entrance to these gardens.
In the light of a dim firebowl, he watched as she leaned against a tree, her eyes closed in serene bliss. He wondered just how often she was able to enjoy the simplicity of being outside unguarded. He wondered if she would ever look like that in his presence.
Did she know? Whenever he saw her, she was always caught up in something or other, and although she always seemed genuinely pleased to see him, she was always preoccupied. Even in privacy, in quiet, unmonitored conversations, there was an air of strain surrounding her. Too preoccupied, perhaps, to know how much he loved her.
In the gardens, she opened her eyes and looked up. For a brief, frozen moment, he thought she saw him watching her, but she merely yawned and walked further into the foliage with a soft smile on her lips.
She may never know how he felt about her. He stepped back from the window, watching as the warm vapor surrounding his hand imprint faded into the air. But he had, for once, seen her unmasked. Had seen her as the woman she should be, not as the figure her people thrust upon her.
He smiled wistfully. Perhaps it would be enough.
~finis~