Padmé slowly woke up in her bedroom. Artificial light began to illuminate the walls, mimicking dawn. Sitting up, she grimaced. There were no windows, so she had to rely on the artificial sunlight in her room to keep track of time. Not just in her bedroom, but throughout her entire home. She could always ask C-3PO, but as her constant companion, he sometimes annoyed her. It was difficult to have a real conversation with him. Not that it was any easier with his master.
Speaking of which, her husband was due to arrive for their daily breakfast date soon.
Once the room brightened a bit more, C-3PO let himself in.
"Good morning, my lady. It is 8 in the morning. Today's weather will be cloudy with light rain. Would you like me to lay out warm clothes and a coat for you?" He asked, both mechanically and cheerfully.
Padmé raised an eyebrow at his suggestion. "You're going to let me go outside, 3-PO?" she asked sarcastically.
"Oh, goodness no! Master Anakin would tear me apart if I allowed my mistress to leave the premises. I was merely suggesting warm attire to match the outside weather," he replied, clearly terrified at the thought of his master finding out.
"Exactly. No, I don't want warm clothes. In fact, I'll dress myself today, and by that, I mean I won't be changing into day attire. I'm going to stay like this." She said it with a hint of rebellion in her voice, smiling to herself, knowing it would unsettle her friend.
"Bu-but, my lady, that's not fit for a woman of your station!" the droid began to protest.
Padmé snapped. "My station is not to leave my station. Your master is not mine—he used to be my husband, but that wasn't enough for him. Now, not only have I lost a title I worked my whole life for, but I'm stuck here with artificial weather that doesn't even know it's raining outside!" She pointed to the fake sunny scenery projected on the walls.
He, of course, completely ignored her first statement. "Mistress Padmé, if what you're upset about is the weather indoors, I can program it to project rain if you'd like?"
Rolling her eyes, Padmé threw the covers off and stood up. "Sure."
She made her way past the droid and into her closet, grabbing her light blue silk robe.
C-3PO, still surprised by her decision to remain in her nightgown, said, "My lady, are you certain you wish to—"
"Yes, I'm sure. And if His Highness doesn't like it, he can fuck off," she replied, closing the door behind her. "3-PO, I'll be taking my breakfast in the library. And before you start saying things—it doesn't matter what I do or don't do. Literally nothing I do matters."
"Everything you do matters to me, my lady," C-3PO replied, sounding defeated.
His response made her pause. It hit her harder than she expected, and she felt a pang of guilt for snapping at him. It wasn't his fault they were both trapped in this situation. He was doing the best he could, while she fought against it at every turn. Not that it made a difference.
Closing her eyes, Padmé raised her arms, holding herself in place. She nodded, agreeing with him. "I know, and I thank you for your kindness and service these past few months." She wanted to say more, but it wouldn't be productive. "I'm not feeling well today. I don't wish to wear uncomfortable clothing. I just want to sit by the fireplace in the library with a book and listen to the fake rain."
"Oh my goodness! Why, yes, of course, Mistress Padmé. I apologize, I shouldn't have questioned you. Please, make your way to the library, and I'll get started on breakfast and some tea to boost your immune system." He rushed out of the room, headed for the kitchen.
Relieved to be free from her "chaperone," Padmé made her way to the library. It was her favorite place in the entire villa—well, that and the gardens, though she rarely got to see them. To compensate, the villa had been transformed into an indoor jungle, much to C-3PO's dismay.
She was used to living in opulence from her days as Queen of Naboo, but whoever designed this place had clearly overdone it. It was too much for her taste. The library was the only place where the architect had shown restraint.
As she walked down the long corridors, the sound of lightning caught her off guard. She'd asked for rain, not a thunderstorm. But she wasn't about to track down the droid when she finally had some alone time.
Finally reaching the heavy, dark wooden doors, she pulled the handle and entered. The room looked like her father's study, and that's why she loved it so much.
Padmé wasted no time in setting up the fireplace. Her father had taught her how to do it when she was young, and she liked doing it herself. To the horror of her ladies-in-waiting, of course. She didn't mind getting her robe and nightgown dirty—it was worth it, especially with the fake thunderstorm outside the library.
Settling into a comfortable green velvet chair nearby, she reached for the book she'd been reading. It was a biography on a former queen of Naboo. Now that was a woman who took no bullshit from any man.
Padmé's contentment faded as she heard the heavy, squeaky footsteps of combat boots on marble flooring heading her way. She quickly switched out her book for another one—currently banned in the galaxy: The Empire of Evil.
Smiling smugly, she raised the book to her face, ensuring it would be the first thing he saw when he walked in.
She heard the doors open and close gently. The sound of wet boots on marble grew closer, until they stopped right in front of her. Padmé made no effort to put her book down, instead speaking into the pages.
"You're here surprisingly early," she said matter-of-factly.
"I heard you weren't feeling well and came to check on you. By the looks of it, you're more than healthy," Anakin responded, his voice dripping with annoyance that she was ignoring his presence.
"There's no better cure for an ailment than consuming good literature." She picked up her index finger, licked it, and slowly turned the page.
A gloved hand grasped the top of her book, blocking her from reading it. "Illegal literature."
Annoyed, Padmé finally looked up at him. His handsome face was frowning down at her. "That's something a fascist would say."
Sighing, Anakin pulled the book out of Padmé's hands and sat down next to her, reviewing the contents. "You take such a hypocritical moral high ground sometimes. How is being Empress that much different from being Queen of a planet?"
"Well, for starters, I didn't have to go on a killing spree and overthrow governments to become Queen." She answered daringly, fully aware she was pushing his buttons. Padmé knew exactly what she was doing—starting an argument in the hopes it would drive him away.
Anakin felt his patience slipping. She always brought up what he had to do to protect their lives and their marriage. She couldn't see that he had no other choice.
The tension between them grew until the door slammed open, and C-3PO, wearing an apron and holding a large silver tray covered in food and various medicine bottles, rushed in.
"BREAKFAST! Oh my—Master Skywalker, I didn't realize you were here already. Are you not feeling well either?"
End of Chapter 1
Padmé slowly woke up in her bedroom. Artificial light began to illuminate the walls, mimicking dawn. Sitting up, she grimaced. There were no windows, so she had to rely on the artificial sunlight in her room to keep track of time. Not just in her bedroom, but throughout her entire home. She could always ask C-3PO, but as her constant companion, he sometimes annoyed her. It was difficult to have a real conversation with him. Not that it was any easier with his master.
Speaking of which, her husband was due to arrive for their daily breakfast date soon.
Once the room brightened a bit more, C-3PO let himself in.
"Good morning, my lady. It is 8 in the morning. Today's weather will be cloudy with light rain. Would you like me to lay out warm clothes and a coat for you?" He asked, both mechanically and cheerfully.
Padmé raised an eyebrow at his suggestion. "You're going to let me go outside, 3-PO?" she asked sarcastically.
"Oh, goodness no! Master Anakin would tear me apart if I allowed my mistress to leave the premises. I was merely suggesting warm attire to match the outside weather," he replied, clearly terrified at the thought of his master finding out.
"Exactly. No, I don't want warm clothes. In fact, I'll dress myself today, and by that, I mean I won't be changing into day attire. I'm going to stay like this." She said it with a hint of rebellion in her voice, smiling to herself, knowing it would unsettle her friend.
"Bu-but, my lady, that's not fit for a woman of your station!" the droid began to protest.
Padmé snapped. "My station is not to leave my station. Your master is not mine—he used to be my husband, but that wasn't enough for him. Now, not only have I lost a title I worked my whole life for, but I'm stuck here with artificial weather that doesn't even know it's raining outside!" She pointed to the fake sunny scenery projected on the walls.
He, of course, completely ignored her first statement. "Mistress Padmé, if what you're upset about is the weather indoors, I can program it to project rain if you'd like?"
Rolling her eyes, Padmé threw the covers off and stood up. "Sure."
She made her way past the droid and into her closet, grabbing her light blue silk robe.
C-3PO, still surprised by her decision to remain in her nightgown, said, "My lady, are you certain you wish to—"
"Yes, I'm sure. And if His Highness doesn't like it, he can fuck off," she replied, closing the door behind her. "3-PO, I'll be taking my breakfast in the library. And before you start saying things—it doesn't matter what I do or don't do. Literally nothing I do matters."
"Everything you do matters to me, my lady," C-3PO replied, sounding defeated.
His response made her pause. It hit her harder than she expected, and she felt a pang of guilt for snapping at him. It wasn't his fault they were both trapped in this situation. He was doing the best he could, while she fought against it at every turn. Not that it made a difference.
Closing her eyes, Padmé raised her arms, holding herself in place. She nodded, agreeing with him. "I know, and I thank you for your kindness and service these past few months." She wanted to say more, but it wouldn't be productive. "I'm not feeling well today. I don't wish to wear uncomfortable clothing. I just want to sit by the fireplace in the library with a book and listen to the fake rain."
"Oh my goodness! Why, yes, of course, Mistress Padmé. I apologize, I shouldn't have questioned you. Please, make your way to the library, and I'll get started on breakfast and some tea to boost your immune system." He rushed out of the room, headed for the kitchen.
Relieved to be free from her "chaperone," Padmé made her way to the library. It was her favorite place in the entire villa—well, that and the gardens, though she rarely got to see them. To compensate, the villa had been transformed into an indoor jungle, much to C-3PO's dismay.
She was used to living in opulence from her days as Queen of Naboo, but whoever designed this place had clearly overdone it. It was too much for her taste. The library was the only place where the architect had shown restraint.
As she walked down the long corridors, the sound of lightning caught her off guard. She'd asked for rain, not a thunderstorm. But she wasn't about to track down the droid when she finally had some alone time.
Finally reaching the heavy, dark wooden doors, she pulled the handle and entered. The room looked like her father's study, and that's why she loved it so much.
Padmé wasted no time in setting up the fireplace. Her father had taught her how to do it when she was young, and she liked doing it herself. To the horror of her ladies-in-waiting, of course. She didn't mind getting her robe and nightgown dirty—it was worth it, especially with the fake thunderstorm outside the library.
Settling into a comfortable green velvet chair nearby, she reached for the book she'd been reading. It was a biography on a former queen of Naboo. Now that was a woman who took no bullshit from any man.
Padmé's contentment faded as she heard the heavy, squeaky footsteps of combat boots on marble flooring heading her way. She quickly switched out her book for another one—currently banned in the galaxy: The Empire of Evil.
Smiling smugly, she raised the book to her face, ensuring it would be the first thing he saw when he walked in.
She heard the doors open and close gently. The sound of wet boots on marble grew closer, until they stopped right in front of her. Padmé made no effort to put her book down, instead speaking into the pages.
"You're here surprisingly early," she said matter-of-factly.
"I heard you weren't feeling well and came to check on you. By the looks of it, you're more than healthy," Anakin responded, his voice dripping with annoyance that she was ignoring his presence.
"There's no better cure for an ailment than consuming good literature." She picked up her index finger, licked it, and slowly turned the page.
A gloved hand grasped the top of her book, blocking her from reading it. "Illegal literature."
Annoyed, Padmé finally looked up at him. His handsome face was frowning down at her. "That's something a fascist would say."
Sighing, Anakin pulled the book out of Padmé's hands and sat down next to her, reviewing the contents. "You take such a hypocritical moral high ground sometimes. How is being Empress that much different from being Queen of a planet?"
"Well, for starters, I didn't have to go on a killing spree and overthrow governments to become Queen." She answered daringly, fully aware she was pushing his buttons. Padmé knew exactly what she was doing—starting an argument in the hopes it would drive him away.
Anakin felt his patience slipping. She always brought up what he had to do to protect their lives and their marriage. She couldn't see that he had no other choice.
The tension between them grew until the door slammed open, and C-3PO, wearing an apron and holding a large silver tray covered in food and various medicine bottles, rushed in.
"BREAKFAST! Oh my—Master Skywalker, I didn't realize you were here already. Are you not feeling well either?"
End of Chapter 1