Mother put on a valiant smile for me when I strode out. "You look lovely, Padmé. That dress is wonderful. 3V did a great job."
Dresses, I thought. I despised dresses. But Mother (and 3V for that matter) insisted it was traditional for princesses of Alderaan and so I must wear them.
I wanted to tell her we should forget tradition. It no longer served. But I didn't say that, because concessions must be made for the sake of peace. "Thank you, Mother," I replied, kissing her cheek. "Tai-Lin," I greeted, smiling at him just as easily.
The rebel diplomat smiled back at me, a hint of hope in his dark eyes. Please, I thought derisively. "Padmé. I'm very glad to be here today with you both."
Oh, no doubt. He and Mother must be getting pretty serious, for him to greet the soon-to-be-arriving Frosts with us. Knowing what a stickler for protocol Mother was, this was as good as a declaration of intention. How profoundly she fooled herself in this relationship. This… supposed love.
My mother was much changed. She never said so. But I knew. It would have been impossible not to notice. Mustafar had changed all of us, affected all of us. Mother had changed, becoming warmer toward me and spending more time in my company, but also becoming more intent on matters of protocol than ever. She hardly ever mentioned Dad. Uncle Luke had changed, turning sterner and more serious about his Jedi duties. Rarely if ever now did I see that sunny farmer smile I'd once loved so dearly and which had made me originally trust him. I, of course, had changed. And Dad had changed. He had left us.
He had left me. For I knew it was me that he found himself unable to handle. My brokenness had terrified him to the point of flight. For that was the fundamental difference between my parents: fight or flight.
Leia fought.
Han flew. Literally.
And he probably didn't even realize that I remembered the day he'd left. Only one person had ever realized I wasn't completely gone when all the doctors said I was—and that had been Uncle Luke, guided, I presumed, by the Force. But I remembered. I just hadn't been able to get the words out through my smoked mouth, to plead with him to stay, to tell him I'd try harder.
To tell him I didn't know what to do without him. That I still needed him.
But I hadn't been able to verbalize any of it. And the stress of the whole situation had sent me into my World for days on end. I came back from the hopeful dream-land to find a hopeless existence, with claw marks on the walls, my own broken fingernails and matted hair, and my dad forever gone.
And now I had Tai-Lin as a substitute. Or so he attempted to be. Right. Like I needed some kind of father figure now, at twenty-two years old. Maybe I should go back to nappies and suck my thumb a bit.
For that matter, I didn't need a mother figure, either. But Leia was trying. She'd been trying since my mostly-recovery six years ago, and she deserved for those attempts to be honored. As best I could with derision still extant inside my heart. Too little too late, Mommy. I'm not a little girl anymore.
The Frosts, a noble family of Alderaan who claimed distant relationship to us through Bail Organa, were our rivals in the best sense of the word. Given the rampant rumors—some pretty accurate—about how I had momentarily gone mad after my "staircase accident" and subsequent pulmonodic replacements, many people insisted I was unfit for the throne. That I might still be mad and it was just being well-hidden. That despite my supposed recovery I might snap again at any moment.
Guess who encouraged those rumors because their daughter could technically succeed my mother instead of myself?
"Lady Frost," Mother greeted regally, offering her hands to the stately-looking woman, who took them with all evidence of gracious aplomb. "Lord Frost. Miss Frost. And Sir Frost."
This last, Sir Frost, was the youngling of the herd, apparently dragged along on this diplomatic endeavor with his sisters' rival. He had whitish blond hair and a plain, put-out face. Sixteen, probably. And he seemed to have been wrestled into his suit against his will.
I smiled without effort and in complete truth as I clasped his hands in welcome. What a perfect little target for a bit of kriffing. To begin, I met his brown gaze with unflinching attention, effusing of full-hearted joy at our meeting. When he began to flush pink, I felt a surge of victory.
Oh, this was going to be easy.
Mother liked to keep her enemies close, she always said. Such a sentiment had a double irony, given our rebellious moonlighting. But in this case, it seemed to serve. Better to neutralize the Frosts through favor and flattery than let them continue to slander me via tacit means.
After all, who could think me anything but the perfect lady and princess? I spread my time around with each Frost family member, engaging in this conversation and that. But I did make certain to give the youngest Frost, the little Sir who already had it bad for me by the second course, some flourished attentions which had his sister frowning (a bonus) and him beaming with delight. Poor, ignored little soul.
Poor, stupid little boy, falling into my snare with such ease.
I proposed a toast at the end of the meal. "To Alderaan and its prosperity, and to our friendship. May it promote both ends."
But of course, Sir Frost would get more than friendship this evening.
OOO
He came when I subtly summoned him from the quarters in which his family was staying for the night. Shyly. Somewhat flushed. By the stars, this kid just made it too easy on me.
I wasted no time. I had had too much to drink to retain my patience. After kissing him—to which he had enthusiastically responded with the guppy-like air of a fish taking its first swim—I twined my arms around him, holding him close. Allowing my hands to drift downwards. Downwards… A thick shaft of star light that was probably from a passing speeder suddenly streamed into the room, throwing it into silvery color.
"Do you consent, my sweet?" I whispered.
"Yes…" The word seemed to leave him without any thought. Oh—who am I kidding? Naturally it left him without any thought. "Yes, Your Highness…"
"Perfect."
And then, once I'd gotten what I wanted from him, I so politely and with such grace dismissed his ass from my presence that he probably never even realized he had been rejected. I closed the door, locked it, and then pulled my panties back up. Then I went to the windowsill, staring out at Alderaan in the night. It never looked more beautiful than in the darkness, when the candlewicks bloomed on the ground and the stars spangled the sky. Apenza Peak, that great height which I had never been able to surmount thanks to my pulmonodes, stood out like a needle even in the dark.
I sighed out, feeling suddenly very regretful that I should have taken that boy to bed. Some woman who cared ought to have had him first.
Oh, well. There were no second chances.
I lit a cigarette, then blew out in a puff of silvery steam.
OOO
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