A/N: Thank you all so, SO much for the last chapter's reviews! Truly heartwarming. If you've hung on this long, I ask that you allow me to fill you in on important details:

1. More on this later, but mind the rating. In MPAA movie ratings, AOTC was PG. My version would be a hard R for sexual tension/material. Nothing graphically explicit, but far away from Disney-approved. There may be an alternative version of a chapter which'll be posted separately that's rated M for those who want to read that interpretation.

2. Even since I posted the prologue, most of Suppression has already been written (this chapter starts on page 216 of 602. Enough scenes still need to be written that I could easily see it reaching 700+ pages). This means a couple things: A. No abandoning/author disappearing act on my part. B. The hiatus between postings will likely be brief as I pause just to polish more often than to write. Chapters are also about to start coming quicker as two months of life distractions are about to wrap up. C. As much as I appreciate reviews (I truly, deeply do), they will not influence the writing itself, subconsciously or otherwise.

3. Suppression covers through the day after the wedding + an epilogue. Although separate, the final chapter and the epilogue will be posted minutes apart. They're already written.

4. As far as the overall story, this is not an AU. I do stretch the time out a bit, though. More on that soon.

5. I've tried very hard (LOTS of hours on Wookiepedia, YouTube, reading books, using Google) to keep this as "historically canon-safe" as possible in many ways. I want this to work in my head canon. I am a child of the Expanded Universe (now called Legends) era, and so if it didn't dramatically alter the story either way, I've often chosen to reference that canon versus the Disney canon, but don't be surprised if you see blended bits of both. My gospel is the movies first, 100%. Equally paramount and insanely insightful, I've devoured every interview I can track down from Natalie, Hayden, and George on the characters and story. I've poured over the film's script and the deleted/expanded scenes. I also reread the Lucasfilm-era approved novelizations, because George worked very closely with those authors, but they're more so inspiration than anything I'm strictly binding myself to (otherwise, what's the point of writing a fanfic?). While I've read Queen's Peril (the Disney-canon book, set during her time as queen), I have not read the other two from the Padmé trilogy by E.K. Johnston. That being said, I skimmed enough to know there's a lot of discrepancies happening. That's her version, this is mine.

If you haven't seen the expanded arrival scene that was filmed but heavily cut, it's on YouTube, and I highly recommend checking it out. There are jumps in it though, too, so I used original lines to fill in the gaps.

III. NABOO

Chapter 9. The Palace of Theed

O, it is excellent
To have a giant's strength, but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant.

— William Shakespeare

What is power?

Is it the influence fought over by a collection of voices in an elected Senate, a Council who chooses their own, or a single dictator's iron grip?

Is it the ability to move objects with your mind? To sense things before they happen?

Is it knowledge, loyalty, territory? Is power a glittery palace on a cliff, or a blood-curling threat?

Is it the passion between two people who cannot live without each other?

The most ardent lover may exert ample amounts of energy to court and win your heart, and years later break it with a smile.

Is power the ability to destroy— or to create? And if both are shows of power, which is the stronger flex? Civilizations take ages to build— millennia. Yet they can unravel in a fraction of the time. The work of a thousand ancestors might collapse in a single generation.

So, what is this force? I can only testify to what I myself have witnessed. Power itself is neutral. It waits. It holds dormant for a purposeful body to arrive and use it as an arm. Connected to a righteous heart, it will obligingly work mighty wonders for good. Attached to evil motives, it is all too happy to swing just as fiercely the other way. Power itself is, ironically, powerless. It is solely and absolutely at the discretion of the user who wields it. It is the blaster which needs a finger to pull the trigger; a hope that needs a soul in which to bloom. Power without intelligence behind it is a spark which will die out in quick bursts, but without selflessness, it will consume like wildfire. It needs the steadiness of multiple hands to keep it lit without letting it burn out of control, overwhelming whatever it touches. Power bestowed by the masses is a gift. It is a promise. A sacred duty.

I had been a queen and a galactic senator. I've been bowed at, saluted, cheered, cursed. I stood on elevated platforms, in hovering podiums, and perched on plush chairs. These so-called symbols of power gave me the right to exercise control over people's lives. This was, to me, a precious responsibility I took with the upmost solemnity. From a life spent in "powerful" company and in a political chamber where decisions affected billions, I naively thought I knew power the from inside and out— its shades, its strengths, its seductive pitfalls. Its possibilities for the greater good are what enraptured me. But the more I thought I understood what I was dealing with, the more the blinders tightly stuck themselves against my eyes. I underestimated the dark side of power— its corrupting lure to even the most well-intentioned of hearts.

So, you see, Anakin wasn't the only fool tripped up by pride.

"The waterfalls! Gods, they're even bigger than I remember. Oh, and there are the hills!"

Watching Ani race back and forth across the shuttle was a delightful circus. He'd been like this since we'd stepped on to the bus that would take us from the freighter's docking bay to the royal palace. The three other passengers onboard were eyeing him, two bemusedly, one a little confused to see this grown man move about with the excitement and wonder of a little boy. One might think he'd never seen civilized society before. Despite the double-meaning behind his words, a part of me had thought Anakin spoke of his fervor for Naboo back on the Jendirian Valley to be polite. Perhaps, he was trying to court more of my favor by appealing to my limitless love of my home. But no— this wasn't a show for my sake. This was genuine, unmistakable elation.

"That's the Sollea, Soolee, oh gods, Sol-what?"

I grinned. His enthusiasm was infectious. "The Solleeu River."

"Right," he breathed, shaking his head in awe at the wide expanse of water. Then he was off, darting to another window that, luckily for him and our fellow passengers, was open.

Artoo at my left, I happily watched Ani from my own stationary spot next to one of the windows, my hands grabbing the headrest bar of the empty seat in front of me. Slipping into some sort of a tour guide role, I began, "The city was founded over a vast plasma source located beneath the cliff edge. Did you know Theed wasn't the first city settled by humans on Naboo? It wasn't even the first capitol, though its founding goes back some eight-hundred years. The original capitol is further west, and it—"

He plopped down in the formerly empty seat before me, a hand splaying itself on the glass as if it could reach out to the sight on the other side. "I can see the palace!" Catching himself, he sent a quick look over his shoulder. Apologetically, he offered, "Sorry." His eyes darted between me and the panoramic view.

I shook my head, completely unbothered. Smiling, I encouraged, "It's fine. Look out the window, Ani." I wrapped up my history lesson without further elaboration, and both of our gazes took in the growing sight of the building on the cliff that our bus was steadily heading towards. Feeling more pensive than academic, I mused, "Places and people from our early childhood always look grander when we see them at that age. When we return to them as adults, we usually find disillusionment— see more of the dents. The blemishes." I smiled as the moss-green domes and reflective marble walls loomed ever larger as we drew nearer. "But I've never felt that way about the palace. It bewitches me every time, same as the first time."

In the lingering silence, my eyes pulled themselves away from the window to the young man in front of me. Ani was eerily motionless, even tense. I knew Anakin well enough now to recognize when his stillness had shifted from rapt attention to disturbed. "Ani?" I strained over his shoulder to see whatever had made him go so static so quickly.

His eyes hovered to the right of our destination. His enthusiasm was forebodingly absent, and for a moment, he seemed very much like a lost little boy. "I can see the hangar."

I'm ashamed to say it took me several seconds to understand. At first, I wondered if I'd missed something in relation to his daring escapade against the Trade Federation control ship. But then I realized Ani's thoughts weren't on his own significant event of the battle.

The Royal Hangar is a mammoth bay connected to an even larger chamber beneath the palace, which leads to a plasma refinery. The tall doors bridging these areas was the last place either one of us saw Qui-Gon Jinn alive.

I instinctively extended a hand to place on Ani's shoulder, but then I hesitated an inch above the fabric of his white tunic. Indecisive, I rested it on the bar behind his head. By the time I'd decided whether or not to touch him or withdraw, we'd landed, and the shuttle doors were opening to the plaza. Ani gathered up two of the suitcases quietly, and I followed behind for the one. At the door, he stepped to the side and paused, first allowing an elderly couple to exit before us and then waiting as I went ahead, too. Stepping into the sunlight and stretching my legs into a brisk walk felt amazing after the dimness of the freighter. I welcomed the sting in my unaccustomed eyes as the sun quickly coaxed them into adjustment. Artoo followed diligently after us.

My companion's somber reflection proved to be brief as we started walking across the bright courtyard. Anakin was nothing if not a man of action, and his mood couldn't be held down for any length of time so long as he was in motion. He was not done reminiscing.

"When I first started my training, I was very homesick. Very lonely. But I'd always feel better when I thought about the palace. The way it shimmers in the sunlight." He inhaled deeply. "The way the air always smells of flowers."

He was beaming. It touched me that he seemed to speak of this place with as much love and admiration as I felt for it.

"And the soft sound of the distant waterfalls." The conversation paused as our ears paid devoted attention to the humming roar in the distance. I'd missed that hum. No matter where I was in the galaxy, but especially when in the industrial hive of Coruscant, I missed it. It had gotten to the point where my handmaidens secured an audio recording of cascading water for me to fall asleep to, but it never compared to the real thing. "When I first saw the capitol, I was very young, and I'd never seen a waterfall before. I thought they were so beautiful. I never dreamed that one day be living in the palace." Teenage giddiness sneaked its way back into my voice. The trials of being queen were many, but so too had been the perks.

"Tell me— did you dream of power and politics when you were a little girl?" He asked in such a congenial way that I easily suspected he already knew the answer.

"No," I grinned. "That was the last thing I thought of."

"Was it the embellished dresses and elaborate hairstyles then?"

That won an unrestricted laugh from me. "Hardly. One look at the monarch's attire and you realize why the doorways here are so large."

"Nah, you carried yourself well." Ani gave me one of those smiles that was so good at making my heart flip between my ribs. "Even when you were walking around Watto's shop in street clothes, I knew. You can't take off leadership like you can take off a dress. You were born to be a queen."

I bit down on my bottom lip, frowning a little even as I knew he'd meant it as a compliment. "I'm not too sure about that."

Anakin's playful air dimmed at my more somber tone. "What do you mean?"

We'd come to the broad steps which would take us over a canal, and I hiked up my skirt and tried to find the right words to express myself. I hadn't talked to anyone about this before. "I wasn't the youngest queen ever elected, but now that I think back on it, I'm not sure I was old enough. I'm not sure I was ready."

"The people you served thought you did a good job. I heard they even tried to amend the constitution so you could stay in office."

The reminder sent a chill down my spine. While many might've suspected I'd at least been flattered by the motion, it had been an extremely uncomfortable turn of events which I'd heavily opposed. "Popular rule is not democracy, Ani. It gives the people what they want, not what they need." We took a few more steps before I realized the sound of mechanized wheels was absent. "Wait," I paused and looked between our shoulders. I couldn't even see the top of the dome of my astromech droid. The bridgeway we'd crossed would take him a minute to go up and over. "That's a lot of stairs, even for Artoo."

Artoo had lifts, but they burned through fuel quickly. He knew not to use them except in emergencies.

Understanding, Ani hung back to wait for the droid to ascend and descend the ornate stairs. He was smiling as he took another look around the vast courtyard, and I watched him intake of a long breath. As he serenely let it out, he appeared the most relaxed I'd seen him yet. Blue eyes filled with appreciation met mine. He paused for a moment, then declared, "Beautiful."

My eyes broke away from his to repeat his sweep of the scene. We'd obviously just walked across the plaza, but it was nice to stand and simply take it all in before we disappeared into the arched walkways to come.

So many memories flicked through my mind's library as I looked around at the grounds. Palace event staff used this huge space for different ceremonies— some formal, some more social and casual. Once, I'd happily overseen an exhibition week wherein zookeepers across the planet brought in fantastical, colorful animals for the children and adults of Theed to marvel at with their own eyes. The managers set up pins and petting areas for the safest, most docile creatures. The whole idea had been my sister's, actually, and it was one of the scant times when I flexed a little monarch influence to bring a family member's want to life. All the same, I wanted the showcase to be as educational as it was spectacle, and my handmaidens and I found immense joy in learning about the more remote species of Naboo.

I focused my attention again on the waterfalls in the distance. Anakin was right— the air didn't just smell incredible because we'd been cramped into a crowded freighter for nineteen hours. The decadent, floral perfume in the air easily bested anything sold in Coruscant's most high-end store. Being queen was a grave responsibility that challenged every tool in my mental and emotional arsenal, but as I gazed at the— what word had Anakin perfectly used to describe it? Shimmering? — palace, I stated, "It was wonderful living here."

Artoo was making his way down the second flight of stairs now. He wasn't quite caught up with us, but it was a safe enough distance to resume walking. He'd catch up properly once the ground was level for him again.

I led us through the curved walkway which would bring us closer to the throne room. Though my heels echoed down the ribbon of stone arches, announcing our arrival, this path was far less populated than the courtyard.

Ani shook his head. "This place is a maze."

I laughed at his wide eyes as he took in even more palatial architecture. "It took me a full year before I felt comfortable navigating it without having to ask for directions." The cringe of the experience had faded in the way time smooths the edges of such embarrassments, and I now smiled at the memory of my fourteen year old self. I'd been fully aware of my age— I was certainly reminded of it often enough— and I was always trying so hard to come across as grown up and stately. But there I was, getting lost in my own home.

"What's 'right' and 'wrong' for the people aside, do you miss being queen?"

It wasn't as easy for me to separate the good of the people from my wants like he suggested, but I understood what he was trying to ask. "Yes and no. At the end, I was relieved when my two terms were up. So were my parents. They were very worried about me during the blockade— they couldn't wait for it all to be over." I hesitated briefly. Anakin had been more personal than I, but I couldn't keep the fever out of my voice as I shared, "Actually, I'd hoped to have a family of my own by now. My sister has the most amazing, wonderful kids." My heart swelled at the mere thought of Ryoo and Pooja. I wanted my own children to be near enough in age to play with my sister's; I wanted them all to be as close as siblings. "But when the queen asked me to serve as senator, I couldn't refuse her."

"I agree with her. I think the Republic needs you."

{That's why the Republic needs you alive. You can do more with these beautiful hands than I could ever do with a swing of my lightsaber.}

Anakin's stare was bringing back the memory of our interlude in the engineering room even more than his repetitive words were. At this point, I doubted such a thing was coincidence. He'd alluded to it on purpose, but I discovered that— instead of feeling uncomfortable at his pointed remark— I found the adrenaline coursing more hotly through my veins the longer we gazed at each other was… welcomed. Something viral and dangerous and tired of being kept at bay licked the walls between my heart and my lungs like the flames of a stoked fireplace.

"I'm glad that you chose to serve."

I bet you are. It didn't feel like that far of a guess that, regardless of all other circumstances, Anakin would rather I was right here walking by his side than building a hearth and home with a husband in blissful obscurity.

"Senator Amidala!"

We both turned to a see a figure draped in rich, purple fabrics approaching. Up ahead of us strut none other than Fregor Antilla, the man who chose Jar Jar Binks to represent the planet in my (forced) absence.

He was a large, stately man, older than middle age, although not yet elderly. His blond hair fell about his head in thin wisps that he'd meticulously combed over.

"Hello, Fregor!" I greeted him with a polite smile. As we drew closer and eventually stopped, I gestured between the two men in introduction. "Ani, this is Fregor Antilla, the top advisor for Her Majesty's Administrative Affairs. Fregor, this is Anakin Skywalker."

"The hero of Naboo," he extended his palm and pronounced the words slowly, with great awe. "It is an honor to shake your hand, sir."

Ani smiled graciously as he smoothly shifted the suitcase he held in one hand to join the case already resting in the other. He completed Fregor's offered handshake, but his tone was humble. "Thank you, but I was just glad to be there to help. The real heroes of the day gave much more than I did."

"Ahh yes. Jedi Master Jinn. I never met the man, but I heard wonderful things about him. Wonderful."

Mutely, I questioned how much of that was true. Not that Qui-Gon didn't deserve every ounce of praise, but I suspected Fregor's sentiment was more political line than not. I recognized such a move when I saw one.

Anakin switched the luggage back to one in each hand again, and our trio started moving forward. Fregor turned to look back at me. "And how is our Jar Jar fitting in as your substitute?"

"Well, Naboo is still a member of the Republic, so I'd say we've averted disaster so far." I must've been sleep deprived. I couldn't believe the words had come out of my mouth like that. He smiled and nodded at my statement, thankfully somehow missing the tone I was sure crept into my voice. Beside me, I thought I saw Ani stifle a laugh behind a cough.

The man in front of me belatedly decided I'd given him fantastic news. He pumped a fist in the air. "Excellent! I knew he was the right man for the job. Well, Gungan. Ah, right this way to the queen, Senator." We turned a corner, and he continued leading us on the long path to the throne room. Abruptly, he stepped backwards in between us, clumsily putting me to the side. I adjusted to avoid colliding with him as he slung his left arm around Ani's shoulder. He didn't seem to notice that doing so made the young man's job of holding two suitcases on either side as he walked cumbersome. I leaned back and peered at Ani's face behind Fregor's blond head. He met my eye, and I made a motion to communicate I would carry his second bag in my free hand if he wanted me to, but he briskly shook his head once. "Well, my boy, I could get a lot of traction with a picture of me and Anakin Skywalker himself on my desk. What do you say to a photoshoot after you meet with the queen?"

"Interesting. Speaking of the queen, Advisor Antilla…" I noticed Ani's pace was slowing down from our previous quicker one. "I would be honored if you would be the one to announce us to Her Majesty."

Fregor looked absolutely tickled. "Well, I would love that too, my boy!" He gave Ani a loud pat on the back.

"You go on ahead, we'll meet you." They separated as Ani slickly drew back from Fregor a step further, yet only then did he move the suitcase in his right hand to join the one in his left, coupling them together once again.

"Nonsense. Toss me a bag, we can walk there together!"

"I insist."

Fregor looked like he was about to protest again when I saw Ani make a subtle wave with his newly free fingers. He repeated the words but his voice was now… different… oddly calm. "I insist you go on ahead to the throne room."

"Senator Amidala, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go on ahead and meet you at the door to the throne room."

My eyes went wide. I was fairly sure that, for the first time in my life, I'd just watched a Jedi mind trick play out in front of me. I didn't know whether to berate Ani for his blatant display of unfair manipulation or laugh and thank him. Instead, I clamped my lips together and just nodded at Fregor. Then I watched as he steered away from us, faster than I thought he was capable of walking.

After he was well outside of earshot, I looked at Ani as we continued our gait, our steps slightly gaining back to their prior pace. I gaped at him. "Did what I think just happened, happen?"

He was shameless. "You're welcome." His cocky grin was too contagious, and I found myself finally letting out a laugh. He chuckled with me, but then stared at me questioningly, half-incredulous. "How did the same people who elected you elect him?"

"They didn't. He was appointed."

"By the queen?"

I shrugged. "All I know is, Palpatine knows him, and it was on his recommendation alone that Queen Jamillia appointed him. It happened in the first week of her term. I don't think she had the nerve yet to push back against it. By the time she did, it was too late."

"Poor Queen Jamillia."

"I agree. My boy."

Anakin eyed me and my stupid grin. "Stop."

Among the living, being a current or former monarch of Naboo is a very small, exclusive club. We don't cross paths with other members very often— mostly only at state funerals, when a former monarch has passed or at other ceremonial events— but when we do, one of the unspoken rules is that past queens or kings do not bow to the current one. They are the only who can abstain. We lost the authority the democratic vote only ever temporarily bestowed upon us— the wanted burden eventually lifted from our shoulders— but the impact from the weight of it never truly left. Thus, forever a monarch, even if only in title. Once a queen, always a queen.

I had absolutely no issue with bowing to Queen Jamillia, but I only nodded my head to her all the same, humble to the rules of the club. We took our seats accordingly, mine taking honored position as closest to the throne, both in respect to my current position as galactic senator and as a former occupant of the grander chair in the room.

"Chancellor Palpatine calls for peace, but I fear what will happen if the Military Creation Act is passed," I was saying. "If the Senate votes to create an army, I'm sure it's going to push us into a civil war."

The word 'war' was practically an unheard sound on our pacifist planet for generations. Then the invasion happened. I knew I wasn't the only one who sat in this particular room and felt a chill go down their spine at hearing the word spoken here, especially in my own voice— I, the lone wartime ruler. Some scars remained more inflamed than others, regardless of time.

"It's unthinkable!" Sio Bibble expressed with a dismay we all felt. "There hasn't been a full-scale war since the formation of the Republic."

The urge to sneak into the Royal Hangar and steal a starship back to Coruscant was an itch I urged to scratch. I might've done it, had I not an overly protective guardian standing just over my left shoulder.

"Do you see any way through negotiations to bring the separatists back into the Republic?" the queen asked me.

"Not if they feel threatened. My guess is they'll turn to the Trade Federation or the Commerce Guilds for help."

'Trade Federation.' Two more words that would hang unwelcome in these hallowed walls for at least another generation to come.

"It's outrageous!" I briefly wondered if the esteemed Sio Bibble was going to grace us with any other remarks besides his unhappy exclamations, as much as I could relate to them. "But after four trials in the Supreme Court, Nute Gunray is still the viceroy of the Trade Federation. I fear the Senate is powerless to resolve this crisis."

I vehemently wanted to disagree, but the argument died in my throat. The more time I spent in the Senate, the more optimism I vainly fought to keep.

But as we spoke, I mentally stepped out of the conversation for a moment to observe Jamillia, sitting in the throne I had guided Naboo from for two terms. Despite what I'd said to Ani about being glad when they were up, there were times when I missed my days as queen. Life seemed simpler, even as it was perhaps more detailed and nuanced as monarch. It obviously wasn't without its pressure, and you were more at the mercy of the flow of Republic as a whole, lacking any influence in it (unless you showed up unannounced and declared a vote of no confidence in the reigning chancellor), but you at least got to actively abstain from its duplicitous, tiresome politics. When threatened by danger, you had the authority to leave a planet under your own choosing. You'd be advised one way or the other, but you had the power to weigh the risks and make your own decision.

I knew that from first-hand experience— both ways, now.

"We must put our faith in the Republic." Less wistfully, the queen continued, "The day we stop believing in democracy is the day we lose it."

Well said. "Let us pray that day never comes." We were following Queen Jamillia's lead now, all of us risen from our semi-circle of chairs and making our exit towards the stairs. R2-D2 waited dutifully at the bottom.

"In the meantime," she continued. "We must consider your own safety."

Sio moved towards Ani. "What is your suggestion, Master Jedi?"

Maybe it was being back on Naboo with him, and the resulting flush of memories of the child he was the last time he was here, but suddenly the image of nine year old Ani having input on my comings and goings was practically absurd. Besides, he technically was still an apprentice, while I was a Galactic Senator. In any room, I outranked him. "Oh, Anakin's not a Jedi yet. He's still a Padawan learner." I saw the reaction in his face immediately, yet I kept on. "But I was thinking—"

"Hold on a minute."

Being interrupted in what used to be my own throne room brought a mightily not amused Amidala to the surface. "Excuse me," I silenced, slipping into my queen's voice more easily here than breathing— I was, after all, just a few paces away from the throne I'd used that voice to command soldiers from. I barely managed to switch my tone back to respectful in time as I turned to Jamillia and continued, "I was thinking I would stay in the Lake Country. There are some places there that are very isolated."

"Excuse me. I'm in charge of security here, my lady."

With Anakin and his names for me, there was always a scale. Later on, it would include titles such as "my love", "my beloved", "my life". Once, in a particularly swoony moment, he even referred to me as "my air". However, back in these earlier days, the catalogue was much more limited. "Milady" implied we were on good footing. "Padmé" was the best.

The full "my lady" meant I was in trouble.

Ani's eyes had come alive, and his hands were on his hips like they'd been during the morning standoff at my apartment. I'd experienced his pushback when I'd wanted to attend the memorial services at the embassy, but I was still taken aback that he'd be so confrontational so publicly. We didn't have time to play through that here like we'd done in the privacy of my sitting area.

"And this is my home. I know it very well— that is why we are here." My ability to quickly read a room after Anakin had said something he shouldn't kicked in again— Force knows he gave me too much practice at it. I knew all too well that we had an audience. Except now, instead of it being my support staff, it was reversed, being— in a sense— my bosses who were watching us. The last thing I needed was for them to think my sole protector and I weren't getting along. I appealed to his sense of tactical strategy, even as my eyes begged him to stand down quickly. "I think it would be wise if you took advantage of my knowledge in this instance."

Luckily, Ani's perception actually exercised itself this time. He took in a deep, audible breath and nodded curtly with his chin. "Sorry, milady."

His eyes brimmed with warning. There would be retribution for this.

Queen Jamillia carried on as if the tense exchange hadn't even happened. Her indifferent monarch's face could've rivaled my own. "Perfect. It's settled then." The look in Anakin's eyes and the rhythm in my heartbeat were anything but settled.

She paused and looked to me. A secret glance that would've been missed by anyone else passed between us, queen to queen. I'd been wrong. Despite that flawless mask, she directed the question in a barely perceptible way that revealed to me she saw what had just happened and knew who was in truly charge. "Will you go straight there?"

"To my parents first." Anakin flashed his eyes at me again and his chest swelled up. More news I'd neglected to tell him. I ignored him this time. "I know they'll want to see in person that I'm alright." Argue with that, Master Jedi.

"Of course," Jamillia replied warmly. "Tell them their queen is most grateful for their daughter's sacrifices." With that, we were dismissed. I bowed my head in sisterhood and watched as she walked away, her regal entourage slowly following.

Artoo rolled his way over to us. An awkwardness hung in the air. I watched the tall man standing a few feet away, a little nervous as to which version of him I'd be dealing with now.

"Anakin?" He met my gaze quickly, ready at my call even though I'd just lectured him front stage of the senior leadership of Naboo. I wanted to say I was sorry, even if it was only half-true, but instead ventured, "I'd like to change clothes before we head to my parents. I have," I lightly waved my hand, gesturing from the top to bottom of my figure, "travel all over me."

I hadn't said it loudly, but Sio Babble, one of the last to follow the queen, overhead and stepped back to us.

"There's a washroom nearby, Senator, in one of the apartments for visiting dignitaries. It's not far." He smiled bashfully. "But then I'm sure you already know that, of course."

I had forgotten actually (I wasn't as well-versed with the non-monarch amenities of the palace), so I found the information helpful. I didn't want a full shower, but simply a rinse from the neck down would be fantastic before I greeted my family. I wanted to look as clean, safe, and perfectly presentable for them as possible. Telling them I was fine would fall on deaf ears if I said it while looking and smelling like I'd barely escaped Coruscant in exile.

"Thank you." I looked to the dark blond man. It was a weak offering, and if for some reason he said 'No' we were going to have issues, but I asked anyways, "Is that alright with you?"

He offered a tight smile. I could almost hear him sarcastically replying 'Really?' But he did seem to appreciate that I was asking for his blessing, however small the significance of the matter was. His shoulders relaxed a fraction. "If you can't be safe taking a shower in the palace, this assignment is gonna be more perilous than I thought."

Sio gave one last, unnecessary, instruction. "Go and ahead and lock the door," he laughed. "I think we'll be able to manage for a time with one less washroom in this place." We all chuckled good-naturedly, albeit Anakin and I more awkwardly than Sio, and then I thought that was enough conversation about me in the shower.

As if there was any doubt I'd be locking that door. Gods forbid the Force mistakenly tells Anakin I've slipped and he comes bursting in.

Artoo stayed with Anakin, and a slender handmaiden with delicate features resembling the queen's gracefully led me to the apartment. It wasn't exactly near the throne room— nothing is close to another in a building that size encasing rooms that huge, and I think Sio's long years in the palace had re-written his idea of 'nearby'—but we reached it within a few minutes.

The handmaiden spoke, and her clear voice beguiled her dainty appearance. "I will comm link another handmaiden to retrieve a towel and your luggage for you, ma'am. I will leave them inside on the counter for you so they are ready when you step out of the shower." She nodded knowingly, assuring me, "And I will stand post outside this door to make sure you are not disturbed."

"What's your name?"

"Tarel."

That meant Queen Jamillia's personal name— an identifying element of the queen that was kept confidential during her reign, just like Padmé had been for me while I adopted Amidala as my formal moniker— was something that sounded like 'Tarel'.

"What's your real name?"

She raised her chin slightly, dark brown eyes dancing as she easily passed my test. "Tarel." Once a loyal handmaiden, always a loyal handmaiden— even when a past queen who helped originate the game poked around at the rules.

I smiled appreciatively, and proudly, at her. "Thank you, Tarel."

"Of course, Senator. Please, let me know if you need anything."

She opened the door but allowed me to lead myself inside and then shut it behind me. I could never feel safer leaving it unlocked. No one was getting past that door.

I stepped further into the room, and, suddenly, a memory returned. There was one occasion during my reign when myself and Sabé had needed to switch roles quickly, in one of the weeks prior to the invasion. On the day, we didn't have the luxury of time to get to my royal apartments on the higher floor, so we'd ducked into this very washroom with the other handmaidens to get the job done as fast as possible. I could still remember the rush of adrenaline as we scrambled to rapidly wipe my makeup off without reddening my face too much, and the clumsy hops of my feet as I hurried out from one dress and into the one freshly disrobed from Sabé.

All of a sudden, I felt a twisting pang of longing. The pressures of queen were complex and heavy, but I dearly missed the days of having a large circle of friends my age around me at all times. I knew, even back then, that one day I would miss the camaraderie, even as I more-than-occasionally wished for the solitude I lacked at the time. My circle of truly close friends— female or otherwise— had dwindled significantly. Now, one was tragically lost forever. Dormé was literally worlds away, taking my danger on to her own shoulders.

The ghosts of teenage girls capable far beyond their years moved in front of me. They'd started the name change trend all by themselves, beating the brilliant and experienced Captain Panaka to the idea. Each of them had voluntarily morphed their birth names into ones that resembled mine in order to make my personal alias of Padmé more masked— to better protect me as I disappeared into their ranks. Sabé. Rabé. Yané. Eiraté. Saché. I could see all of them, could hear their individual voices. Gods, how I missed them. A familiar squeezing started in my chest and spread upwards to my eyes. Dormé. Cordé. The pressure in my ducts grew stronger.

"Not here," I breathed. I pushed the tears down in, but my hands removed the sundial adornment on my head with more gusto than required. I stepped forward to make ready for the shower, the phantom sounds of young ladies giggling— even through their rushed work— echoing in my ears.

The temptation to give into a full shower was too great to pass up. Running my fingers through my hair brought on a feeling of soothing relaxation I hadn't felt in days. But I didn't have the luxury of time to waste, so I made the shower happen in half the time I would've liked.

As promised, when I stepped out from the marble stall, a plush towel rested on the counter. Along with it were various other toiletries and my suitcases.

After getting myself better prepared to dress, I absentmindedly started my scrummage through the contents. Due to the customary nature of my wardrobe, some pieces were individually sheathed in protective blue paper wrappings to keep sequins and other design features from getting on other garments or snagging. This packing technique wasn't unusual. Nothing really caught my attention until I started feeling the thinness of the silks.

As Captain Typho might say, What in the Sith spawn is this?!

Dresses I owned but never wore were packed into my cases. I clawed my hands through the fabrics, my anxiety rising the more I discovered what Dormé had done. Backless dresses. Tight corsets. Even a swimsuit I was entirely confident I'd never seen before that was more like scraps of material than it was an item I'd ever be caught dead wearing. I cannot believe I was just missing my handmaiden.

I pulled out a silky, strapped night dress I knew I owned but would never have packed on a trip with Anakin. It was all white with a barely-there floral design stitched into it.

"Absolutely not," I actually muttered out loud. The nightgown was floor length but incredibly thin, and the coned cleavage was far too daring with a very tall, very attentive teenager in my company. I was pushing it disdainfully back into the case when something caught my eye.

Tucked into the corner of one of the suitcases was another swaddle. I pulled it out enough to unravel it, recognizing the clothes found inside. It was a small collection, but it was there— a group of conservative, modest drapery. They were a slim collection of the dresses I'd picked out, now present as alternates to the much more revealing attire she'd selected. Safe choices.

I bit the inside of my cheek, the reality setting in. Dormé could have packed whatever she wanted into the suitcases, which she obviously did, but it still came down to my ability to choose what I dressed myself with. I wasn't going to be forced into anything for lack of other options. What I wore on my body was, ultimately, still going to be my choice.

I tried not to look into my decision too much as I took a breath and pulled out the cinched blue dress with the back and the stomach cut out.

It fit on me very well, and I could easily imagine why. Dormé and I were very near the same size, so if she'd tailored this and the rest of the dresses to fit her, she'd also successfully mended them to fit me.

As I stood facing myself in the mirror, the form-fitting dress stared back like it was challenging me. My nerves crept up my bare spine like a seamstress's cold fingertips.

I made my way to the door of the washroom and stuck my head out. Sure enough, Tarel stood attentively nearby. I shyly kept as much of my body behind the width of the door as possible as I called out to her, "Tarel? Does Her Majesty have a cloak I might borrow?"

Despite my best efforts, Tarel saw enough of my dress to grasp its fitting. Her eyes widened. I understood completely. It was quite a transformation from the figure-hiding, camouflaging traveling attire she'd just seen me in. That mustard-colored dress hid everything except my face and my hands. Not only did this dress hug every inch of my torso and arms, my full abdomen was on display from just under my breasts to below my navel.

"I think we can find something," she nodded. Tarel's eyes drifted over my still-wet style, and she pleasantly asked, "Would you like me to do your hair? I can manage it quickly, milady. I think it would look lovely with curls."

A/N Part 2:

I borrowed very, very lightly from E.K Johnston's material here, but to give credit where it's due— she did a great job of displaying the solidarity of the handmaidens, and (to the best of my knowledge) she came up with the idea that they originated the "é" name change all on their own. I thought it was a beautiful touch that should be included, and I ran with it. Apart from the "é" thing, nothing else was lifted from the book.