Chapter 3: The Legend Of Her Spell

"I will not be made a victim."

That's the first thing that goes through her mind when she wakes up.

"I can't. I have no reason to be so."

Really… she needed to remind herself who she was.

The last few days she had been weak, the circumstances being such to make her mind a mess. But now that she had had a night alone, alone with her thoughts and conscience she could put everything in order, everything together.

I am Padmé Amidala.

She should not be afraid of her surroundings.

I am the lady of this Palace. The richest woman in Naboo. I am also free from marriage after enduring it for only a few hours!

Skywalker had scared her with his violence, she couldn't deny it. But the stupid boy would not get the best of her!

Remember you saw him use the Force…

Ugh! Such bad luck!

But remember also, his lust-filled eyes…

For Force's sake, she had seen that look in a million men and women before, she couldn't call it anything else. For all the contempt he claimed to feel for her, Padmé was sure he desired her, the scoundrel.

That will be my biggest weapon against him.

And so she wouldn't cover her face anymore. No, probably never again.

"Why do you always cover your face?" Skywalker had asked her.

The blasted brat had suggested it was for her own malice! When it had been the exact opposite case. She covered herself to protect herself from the evil world.

Since she could remember, men could never control themselves against her beauty, as if someone had put an evil Sith spell on her. As if the Force and fate became nothing when against the feelings she caused to bloom in the opposite sex.

What terrible mayhem she provoked the first time she showed herself in Theed at fifteen years old! Just remembering the occasion she feels the desperate need to put on the veil again… but now, her beauty and charms are her only shield against the mad Skywalker boy.

Her shoulders and low cut cleavage being bared, her legs visible from the knees down; all clad in black, the mourning dress clinging to her body like no man every did… She never wears make up, but she feels such hatred towards Skywalker she wants to drive him as mad as possible.

She doesn't smile as she leaves her bedchamber but she doesn't tremble either.

No Queen ever held as much poise as Amidala while she strutted the Palace.

"Get my breakfast ready," she said severely without looking at the servant she passed by in the hallway, "I want to have it in the garden."

"Yes, My Lady!"

What a grand Palace this was!

Oh she was used to greatness, to wealth and luxury, but really nothing compared to Theed's Palace. The gothic towers of ancient architecture and timeless beauty; the carpeted floors and endless, spiral stairways… Shining chandeliers. Images of past rulers. Guards at every corner. She was getting intoxicated from her own powers, just thinking… This is all mine.

Reaching the garden she breathed in all the sweet scents of Naboo's well-cared nature. Blossoming flowers. Oh a Naboo rose flew across the air and it landed on her precious head, the fragrance falling over her head.

"Recollect as many Naboo roses as you can," she commanded to the wind, knowing a servant had to hear her order.

"What for, My Lady?"

"I have a use for them."

She sat on a crystalline table, relaxed in all her grandeur and loneliness. Delicious pastries were taken to her so delicious red mouth, exuberant fruits and spices.

"Why is my breakfast late?" Anakin asked, more surprised than bothered.

"Pardon me, boy, but Lady Amidala of Palpatine has all the cooks occupied."

Anakin paused for a moment upon that information. "Does she?" he said, though the servant knew this was not a question he needed answered. "Where is she?" now this one seemed important.

"Breakfasting in the garden, boy."

Oh the rage awakened in him! He found her as he had not expected. She was not frightened. Not terrified for her life. But very comfortable in her way.

He had made her feel like a prisoner the night prior and now she seemed like the most frivolous woman in Theed. She was lying on a large cushioned chair, servants covering her, feeding her and fanning her. The nerve of this bitch.

"Amidala!" Anakin cried.

He was ignored.

"Amidala!" he repeated. "Amidala I am talking to you—!"

"I can hear you just fine, boy," she said, and though he couldn't see her Anakin guessed her to be smiling. "You don't need to scream."

He was set even more aflame in his rage. "Will you stop calling me boy?! I am sure I am your senior for at least a decade—"

"Who're you kidding boy?" she interrupted his rant, nonchalantly. "I am past eighteen and though your age is also a mystery, despite your height and well-built self I am sure you can't possibly be more than twenty. Besides, everyone here, the servants most of all, refer to you as the Skywalker boy," he heard her giggle ever so slightly. "I'll admit I am curious—why are you not named like your Father? Is it true what a lot of gossipy aristocrats whisper—were you adopted by my late Palpatine?"

"Clear the way!" Anakin whispered and the servants scattered like insects, fleeing his rage- "How dare you—you!"

"What?!" she challenged, now face to face.

Oh not again… Anakin was struck. He felt all sort of funny things within his belly, a lump in his throat. A race in his beating heart.

"You were saying Skywalker boy?" she softly asked, batting her eyelashes.

"I… I mean, I just—"

She laughed.

"Boy leave me alone, I am busy now." She said now unamused and truly bothered.

He shook her head, fighting every instinct. "I am the heir of this house and I will not be treated as you plan," he said with difficulty.

He saw the surprise in her face and was pleased with himself.

She raised a questionable eyebrow, and commented, "I am Palpatine's heir, you know. I am sure he left me everything he had."

"What makes you think he would forsake his own son?"

She looked away for a moment, "I know what I provoked in him," she said, as if ashamed.

Anakin felt a pang in his chest. "I beg you don't speak of him."

"I will not have mercy on someone who never shows it."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She was quiet for a moment.

"Enjoy your last days in the Palace Skywalker boy," she said with scorn, "When they read His Last Will, I will kick you and every imperial from this my domains!"

"You ambitious tramp!" Anakin cried, he raised his hand and Amidala opened her mouth wide in shock, already expecting his fist on her face but he did not intent to touch her. Not physically.

She felt as her throat closed, all beautiful scents evaporated, she could not take any breath, she gasped and gasped; her beautiful face colored purple and then… Anakin lowered his hand, and she fell to the ground.

She almost choked again feeling the sudden wave of air hit her lungs, taking her hands to her naked throat, she shed a few reluctant tears.

From the blue-green grass on which she laid, she saw his feet, and looking up, saw his face with an unreadable look she for a moment thought could be regret… and like the night before, he disappeared, running from the scene.

"He's not like everyone else," she realized with horror. "I cannot affect him like other men! Oh I have to do something quickly if I want to make it out alive!"

What the actual fuck.

What power did she have, Amidala.

Anakin had never faltered using his power. Why did he feel he hurt himself more than her as he attacked her?

Oh he still felt the fury, the uncontrollable, immeasurable insanity he experienced watching her face, the most beautiful face in the world distorted by the pain he inflicted. He wished he could go back in time and not do it. Never would he forgive himself for such mistake.

"Oh will she be all right? Did I cause permanent damage?" he wondered out loud in his father's old office, pacing like a mad man. "Why, why, why did I do it? I have to go back—Amidala—!"

"But boy," he heard a sudden boy from behind the large chair, "what in Sith's hell are you on about?"

"Mr. Tarkin!" Anakin cried, startled. "What are you doing here? I didn't see you when I came in!"

"No, because you came running crazy. I was only checking a few documents. But tell me, what happened to you?"

"Her! Her!"

"Amidala? Has she captured you too?"

"Never! I'll never let that happen!"

"But if it's true… I am afraid you have no choice."

"How do you mean?"

"I have heard of the legend… I didn't want to believe it."

"Will you speak plainly? I do not understand you!"

"Alas, boy! There is a rumor circulating a young Nabooian. A girl who's part angel. She's rumored to be so beautiful she enchants men until she drives them to insanity. Apparently, there was an accident in which she was involved, resulting in a massacre…"

"That is only a legend, sir. What does that have to do with my stepmother?"

"Think, Anakin! Think! Why do you think she always covers her face? She could sent the world to Sith's Hell if she doesn't-"

"No, I don't believe it. I just saw her face… and yes, she had some sort of charm over me. But not beyond that of a beautiful woman."

"Are you sure of that?" Tarkin grinned. "You are used to beautiful women Anakin. Since you were fourteen you had the biggest beauties of the galaxy at your disposal."

"Never one that compared to her, though."

"Accept the truth, boy. There is so much evil in the world, and that you know."

Anakin turned his back on him. "I will not fall prey to her like my father did. I promise you that!"

"I can't say I wish the same for myself. Is she really unveiled? Where exactly? I want to see her?"

"Mr. Tarkin!"

"I'm kidding, boy, of course!" Tarkin laughed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work behind me." He dismissed him.

Anakin walked to the door, and just as he reached it, said, "By the way," his fiery eyes met those grey ones of Tarkin, "Don't call me boy ever again."

He dangerously gave that order also to every servant.

"I will not fall prey to him!" Amidala promised herself. "I will make him fall in love with me!"