Caoineag
a Jeanne M. production
There was something in her head.
Whenever she wanted to scream and rage at him, she felt something inside her head stir sleepily for a moment. Then, it would be gone. Vanish. And she couldn't really remember why she had been angry or upset in the first place.
She was understanding. Calm. Passive.
Inside, some part of her resisted. Threw itself against the glass walls of the prison in her head. She could feel it shrieking angrily at her. Could feel the wails of distress, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to care. To vocalize what was happening.
And she knew. She knew why it was happening. It was not her husband soothing her, nor the intrusion of Council. She could feel his/her/its distress whenever she became upset. She felt the terror of the unformed mind at her turmoil, and so it reached out to sedate her. After all, having mother angry wasn't good for it. It was just trying to preserve the precarious ledge she was balancing on, to make her happy.
So she stood by the window, brushing her hair in long, even strokes in an attempt to calm the presence in her mind. Trying to think quietly and not have her thoughts clouded.
Because she knew the truth. The Council was wrong, it wasn't her Anakin that was the Chosen One. It was whatever was growing inside her. Influencing her. Already bending her to its will, without even being aware of what it was doing.
And inside, something stirred. Reaching. Intertwining itself with mother and other-self before sinking back into the warmth of nothingness.
Amidala just continued to stare out the window, brushing her hair.
Caoineag: (konyack) Scotland. "Weeper"; a banshee; "Woman Fairy".