Chapter Two--The Life of Amidala

Amidala could not remember her father, who died when she was eighteen months old. He had been the oldest surviving son of Queen Zenaide of Naboo, and Amidala had been his only child.

According to what her family had told her, there had been great rejoicing at her birth, for the Nubian royal line had a shortage of proper heirs. The royal title passed to females only, and Queen Zenaide had not been blessed with daughters. Her four sons, by law, could not succeed her. This custom had been initiated several centuries ago, when internecine civil wars between various cadet branches of the royal house had reduced the planet to a smouldering ruin and the royal family itself to an single survivor: a fifteen-year-old girl who later became Queen Amidala the Great. Amidala was her namesake, and often felt the expectations bestowed by the name were impossibly high. The Nubians called the first Amidala 'the Great Queen of Blessed Memory' when they spoke of her. Her many-times great-granddaughter was more skeptical. The Great Queen had only nominally a pacifist, in Amidala's opinion; when it suited her, she had been a ruthless--and violent---tyrant. She had re-established the royal house under strict matrilineal lines and a tradition of public service. Pacifism was imposed as the rule of the day. Violence of any description was forbidden, and severely punished. Artistic endeavors were encouraged. Cynics suggested the Great Queen had emasculated her planet; though she had brought peace, Naboo gradually had acquired a reputation as a rather dull, if beautiful, place.

But most Nubians, reeling from the horrors of the Civil Wars, embraced the Great Queen's Creed eagerly. Not all of them, however. In every generation, there were some Nubians that could not tolerate the pacifist culture of Naboo. Some were imprisoned; most were exiled.

Among them had been Amidala's father, Tadesz. Her relatives were tight-lipped about the circumstances, but Amidala knew that her father had been exiled from Naboo at the age of nineteen and had become a mercenary in the Rim Wars.

Amidala often wondered how he had mustered the courage; she remembered her grandmother, without affection, as a thin, austere, upright woman, with an exaggerated case of the Naberrie sense of duty. Her eldest son had been a disappointment to her. The males of the royal family, robbed of a political or military role, usually embraced various fates. Some became diplomats, scholars, historians, musicians, or artists. Others simply left, or were exiled. Amidala knew her great-uncle had been a pirate on Damnation Alley in the Rim; her father had followed him there.

And there he might of stayed, if not for an unfortunate circumstance: Queen Zenaide's three younger sons failed to produce an heir for the throne. One was childless; the other two had produced several sons, but no daughters. Queen Zenaide was left with a dilemma.

She managed to forget--for a second--that violence was against the Nubian Creed, and summoned her eldest son back to Naboo. Tadesz was in poor health and living in poverty; even so, he ignored the summons. Amidala secretly admired her father for that. But Queen Zenaide was not used to being thwarted, and was not about to endanger the succession and the entire political fabric of Naboo because of her son's pride. Or her own.

So she had him abducted, and returned to Naboo. He was a wreck of the lively nineteen year old boy who had left nearly thirty years before. Undeterred, Queen Zenaide picked out a wife for him--an attractive widow with two children: both daughters. She was taking no chances with another childless marriage, or a daughter-in-law that could produce only males. Oddly enough, the marriage was a happy one; or at least, Amidala's mother had always told her it was. Tadesz, unblessed with health or meekness, apparently had charm. But eighteen months after Amidala had been born, Tadesz died. There were whispers that Queen Zenaide, having obtained her heir, poisoned him, once she discovered that he was plotting to overthrow her. Amidala's mother assured her this smear wasn't true; it had been natural causes. As a child, Amidala accepted that explanation. But later she wasn't so sure.

Her childhood was an isolated, but happy one. Her mother, Princess Derzela, was the center of it; when young, Amidala saw her grandmother very little. Derzela was a tall, attractive, plump brunette, warm-hearted, outgoing, and not terribly bright. Amidala, even as a child, felt protective of her mother. And as it turned out, Derzela had need of protection.

Just after Amidala's twelfth birthday, her grandmother died. She became Queen of Naboo, and Princess Derzela was appointed Regent for her daughter. It was a role for which she had very little inclination, and even less aptitude. And so, very slowly, and without anyone really noticing what was happening, Derzela's private secretary, Yann Godoy, began wielding more and more power.

Amidala hated Godoy. He was an oily, insinuating man, who used a caressing manner with Derzela and a haughty style to everybody else, even including Amidala herself. She and her half-sisters decided that he had acquired an unhealthy influence over Derzela, but didn't immediately realize the long-term consequences. The Princess had been widowed twice by much older husbands and was naturally lonely. Godoy was married, and the father of a numerous family, but it didn't take long for the rumors to start. Gossip began to suggest that Derzela and Godoy were lovers. When these speculations came to Amidala's ears, she was shocked and disgusted. Godoy now tried to ingratiate himself with the young Queen, but she would have none of him, and made it clear. Her mother was indignant at her attitude.

The happy and united family of Amidala's childhood dissolved in recrimination and anger. The tensions between her and her mother were now such that when the Jedi Temple had renewed an earlier offer to train her in Force techniques, Amidala was eager to accept. And Derzela, who had earlier rejected all such offers, let her go.

Amidala had been assessed as Force-strong at a very young age. It was yet another inheritance from Tadesz, whose own mother had refused to allow him to be trained. Queen Zenaide did the same with Amidala. Because of her rank, her grandmother had exercised the available exemption, and Amidala had not gone to the creches. But the Order had remained interested in her. The young Queen's rank meant influence for them if they could train her.

The Jedi Order could demand Force-strong infants from their parents at the age of six months; galactic law permitted, even encouraged it. Not surprisingly, this caused some parents to hide their children's abilities until they were past the age of creche-admission. Or exercise a series of exemptions, some for rank, some for illness, some for family hardship. There was an exemption for second children of Jedi families; if the elder child had been creche-admitted, the parents were allowed to keep an equally talented second child.

The Order accepted over-age applicants, of course. These Jedi were known as Aestri, at least formally. The slang term for Aestri was Ellisi, or 'drone.' The older the Jedi at admission, generally the lesser his or her eventual status within the Order. Aestri could not hold the higher positions in the Order. But Amidala wasn't interested in being a Master or a temple initiate. She simply wanted to escape what had become a very unhappy situation at home. When she turned twenty-one, her mother's Regency would be over, and Amidala could rule alone. Until then, Jedi training offered an alternative to the chaos of her life on Naboo. She knew that the corrupt Godoy was feathering his nest at the expense of the Nubian people, and her besotted mother was letting him do it; but for now at least, she did not have to watch. She would deal with that later.

Amidala proved both talented and a quick study, and she enjoyed the instruction at the Temple. She made such rapid progress that she had been assigned, with several other gifted Aestri, to specialized, padawan-like instruction by a Master.

The Master in question had been Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan had been relevation to the impressionable sixteen-year-old Amidala. He was natural teacher, with an ease and a wit that captivated his students. In more ways than one, Amidala thought bitterly. Not that Obi-Wan had noticed her in that way--not then.

At that time, he had been involved in a long-term relationship with a Jedi Knight named Hasma Tveri. About Hasma, Obi-Wan's students were of one mind: she wasn't good enough for him. She was attractive without being beautiful, sharp-tongued without being witty, athletic without being graceful, intelligent but not smart enough to hide it. Very unNubian, in Amidala's opinion. Scarcely worthy of the Master.

But two years later, Hasma simply disappeared. Amidala had been surprised. She had asked Beru, even then Obi-Wan's aide, what had happened to her.

Beru had shrugged. "Hasma asked the Council for consideration as a Temple initiate and as a Master, even though she's an Aestri."

"Is that possible?" Amidala asked, surprised.

"Exceptions are sometimes made, if the candidate is gifted, or serious enough. Anakin, for instance."

"Anakin?" He was Obi-Wan's formal padawan, a solemn, self-conscious fifteen-year-old.

"Yes. He never went to the creches. He was nine years old at admission, technically too old to be considered as a padawan. But he was so gifted that they made an exception."

Amidala nodded. Anakin was indeed very talented. Obi-Wan often used him to demonstrate Jedi techniques for his Aestri students.

"Hasma joined the Order as an adolescent. But she's gifted, too--very. She wanted to be eligible to become a Master."

"And?"

"And they turned her down," Beru said.

"Did they give a reason?"

"They never do." Another shrug.

"The Council thought she was too much of a trouble-maker," Obi-Wan's younger brother, Owen, who had been listening, interjected bluntly.

"And what about Qui-Gon?" Beru pointed out. "Wasn't he a trouble-maker? And he was a Master."

"Sure, he was," Owen said. "But he was a creche-bred trouble-maker. Notice that the Aestri outnumber the temple Jedi by three to four to one? The Council doesn't want anybody leading a reform movement against them. Bad precedent."

Both Beru and Owen were Aestri, Amidala noted. As she was herself. She didn't care about her Jedi status, but she wondered suddenly if they did. Especially as Owen's brother was a Master.

"What was Hasma's reaction?" Amidala asked curiously.

"She was, to put it mildly, upset," Beru said. "She's left the Order."

Amidala sat up straighter. "She's gone?"

"Yes. She didn't want to stay if she couldn't be a Master."

Owen was shaking his head. "Here's the funny part," he said to Beru. "Hasma wanted Obi-Wan to go with her."

Beru's mouth dropped open. "You're joking!" she exclaimed. "Leave the Order? Obi-Wan?"

"Yes."

"Was she on spice?"

"Not noticeably. Stone cold sober."

Beru seemed half astonished, half amused. Amidala couldn't see her reasoning.

"Now I know why Hasma would never have made a temple initiate. She just doesn't think like one," Beru said.

"No argument there," Owen said.

If Obi-Wan had actually loved Hasma, Amidala thought, surely he would have gone with her. He would have forsworn being a Jedi Master, and become...what? She wasn't sure. But something else. Obviously, he hadn't loved her enough to make the necessary sacrifices. But it would be different with her, Amidala promised herself. After all, she was worthy of him. Or to put it in Nubian terms, he was worthy of her.

Amidala felt sure he would like living on Naboo. It was a beautiful, civilized planet. Peaceful and rich. And their children would be Force-strong. A handy talent for a ruler.

Amidala knew she had competition. It was no secret that Beru had a tremendous crush on Obi-Wan, as did most of the female Aestri. But she could dream, couldn't she? And scheme, too, her sarcastic inner voice informed her. Accurately.

The sarcastic inner voice always sounded remarkably like her grandmother. Thought like her, too. Amidala didn't want to emulate the late Queen of Naboo. Zenaide had been an excellent ruler; but Amidala suspected a woman who had the lowest opinion of everyone's motives could not have been happy.

Happiness is overrated, snorted her grandmother's voice.

"No, it isn't!" Amidala said out aloud, and then blushed. She wanted happiness, and she intended to have it.

Amidala knew she was a pretty girl. Many times she had heard herself described as beautiful, but as her grandmother acidly informed her, people tended to flatter royalty. But the reaction of the male Aestri had been favorable, and she had plenty of attention from them. Not that it meant anything to her. Not if Obi-Wan didn't join the chorus.

And at first he didn't.