She had just managed to calm herself, the fear and nervousness of the last few days had not worn out, yet something like peace came over her.
She walked to the bed, where her wedding dress laid; she picked it up, caressed it with her fingers and held it closely dear to her heart.
Without thinking, she gave a small cry and a slight jump. Giggling like a schoolgirl, she began the process of getting ready.
"My lady," Dormé, her handmaiden, knocked on her door. "I've come to help you."
"Then you better hurry," Padmé said, smiling broadly. "Because I am halfway there!"
"Why didn't you wait for me?" Teckla, another handmaiden, walked in, looking shocked. "Oh at least let me do her makeup! Please, Senator!"
Padmé's smile grew large and radiant.
She felt already that this would be the happiest day of her life.
"Dormé, are you almost finished with the veil?" Teckla urged.
"Yes, just give me a moment."
"The droids wanted to be here, Senator," Dormé said as she finished accommodating Padmé's dress.
"And where are they?" Padmé asked, a little breathless.
"With the groom," Dormé giggled.
Padmé took a deep breath. The groom…
"Oh," both handmaidens sighed at the same time. "You are ready!"
Padmé walked to the mirror, looking at herself from head to toe. Tears crowded around her eyes but she kept them from falling.
She wished things could be different. She wished her mother and sister were there to help her nerves. She wanted her family and friends in the ceremony. She truly wished they didn't have to hide…
But no matter, she had to take what she could—and it was quite a lot, actually—the prospect of spending her life with Anakin was one that completely overwhelmed her with happiness.
"I am ready!" she said, smiling at the mirror.
"We'll go and see if the priest is ready," Dormé said.
The handmaidens left her, and Padmé took advantage of the moment she had to herself to go out into the balcony. She looked down at the beautiful scenery Naboo offered her, breathing in the sweet air, breathing out fear and worries… There's no turning back. I am doing this.
The time for doubt had passed. It would do no difference if she gave a moment's thought to everything they were risking. She didn't care of what their decision might cause. She loved him and he loved her, what was the harm in that? Why should anyone care? Why should she renounce him based on an ideology dated a millennium back? And who's to say they couldn't still serve the galaxy as a married couple?
There was no law preventing her from marrying Anakin, and even if there was, she was sure she'd ignore it.
She sighed, in love, excited, tremulously, almost jumping again. She closed her eyes for a moment, when she opened them again she'd go get married, she'd run to happiness—
But something strange happened.
A sort of daze took over. She couldn't see anything. She couldn't walk or even move. At times she thought she wasn't breathing properly. There were a million mixed colors seizing her sight—then they disappeared and all was black. She felt like screaming; she tried and she did but she heard nothing.
Suddenly it was like she fell from a really great height. She grunted and covered her face with her hands. "Oh gods," she gasped. Am I dreaming?
Perhaps it had all been an illusion and she had not rose at all that day. Perhaps Anakin was still asleep, and her handmaidens where just about to go knock on her door to help her get ready.
She stood from the ground, which felt grassy, and looking up saw Naboo's moons shining bright.
It looked like a beautiful night, she walked through the fields, thinking this to be a dream, and decided to just wait until conscience called her back to the real world.
Her feet were covered in dirt, her beautiful dress stained at least 10 centimeters deep in mud, but what should she care? It's not like it was real.
She found town, an elegant sight more splendid than she remembered. There were many flying cars above. Buildings taller than was the norm in Naboo, and also, more futuristic looking than classically built. This architecture was not the old Nabooian beauty she grew up with. Strange that she should dream her home-world like that…
There was also an endless parade of clones. She supposed her subconscious was anxious over the war that had recently been declared, and that's why she dreamt them.
"Oh goodness, why do they allow that kind of scum in the city?" Padmé heard a high-pitch voice behind her.
"Calm down, madam, that's just a peasant."
"But how can there be peasants in the city? Ugh, I had thought Naboo had eradicated their kind!"
Padmé realized the two old women were talking about her.
"I am not a peasant," she said, instinctively defending herself, "and even if I were, as you deem me, what would the trouble be?"
The woman pursed her plumped lips, she turned around as if Padmé weren't worth her time, and aided by two servants, she and her company went away in a fancy-looking car.
After they were gone, Padmé took a moment to think about their clothing. It was very strange, while sophisticated and expensive looking, it was also colorless and plain.
I want to wake up now, she thought. Oh I want to get married. Off from this strange dream!
"You!" afterwards she heard a robotic-like voice. "There it is."
"What?" Padmé stammered.
"We received a complaint about a beggar woman—"
"I am Senator Amidala, Clone trooper," Padmé said, looking at the crowd of soldiers circled around her. "And why do you take calls from some rich woman? I would think you have plenty of work as it is."
"This one's mad," the trooper said. "Take her."
"Stop!" she flinched. "What are you doing?!"
She kicked at the troopers, trying to stop them from apprehending her; but they didn't give her much time to give a struggle. She saw one of them point a blaster at her, she instantly froze and stopped defending herself.
"Let me go," she said after a while, scared and not knowing where they were taking her. "I have to get married today," she said, as if in a trance.
Wake up. Wake up! She pinched herself to no success. She slapped her own face. She bit at her wrist. The troopers alternatively watched her and shook their helmets, as if disturbed.
They took her to a type of jail, they locked her in a cell with some strange, questionable-looking men and women.
"I want a lawyer!" she screamed as the troopers walked away. "Damn you!"
"Got caught by the snowmen, youngling?" a middle-age man sat in the cell, smiling at her with a mouth that had at most four teeth.
She stepped back, unsurely.
"How else would she find herself here?" a woman said with a rough voice.
"Never get caught by the Emperor's snowmen!" the man from before shouted in a deranged manner. "No… no!"
"I'm sorry," Padmé said, gathering her courage; inwardly upbraiding herself for being afraid while dreaming. "What is he talking about?"
"That's just how some people refer to the stormtroopers, girl."
"Yes, yes. The snowmen," the man repeated.
"Stormtroopers? Emperor?"
The cell's door opened. A trooper escorted Padmé outside and to a small office.
"It appears you disturbed the city," stated a young man, attired in a uniform Padmé didn't recognize. "There's a high fine for that behavior, beggar."
"I am not a beggar, I am a senator!" she said, out of patience. "The senator of this very planet, no less."
The officer sighed. "Are you, really? Those are some strange rags you chose to walk the city, 'Senator,'" he grinned.
"You know what? I am done explaining myself, it is too exhausting. I will just let things happen until I wake up."
"Right…" the officer shook his head. "Loon," he whispered to himself. "What name did you use, then, Senator?" he said, as if humoring a child.
"Senator Amidala. Padmé Amidala."
"Amidala… wait. That name does ring a bell…" he looked thoughtful for a moment, then, he started laughing. "Amidala! That's the name. The famous politician from the Old Republic, ha! Did you mix a history book with your Sith scorcher?"
Old Republic?
"Foolish girl. If you wanted to get out of paying the fine by impersonating a politician, you could've at least picked one still active. Even madness needs a little sense. You mustn't had paid much attention in school. Padmé Amidala died at the birth of the Empire, almost twenty years ago."