The Moons of Iego: The Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker Website

FAN FICTION : ATTACK OF THE CLONES ERA

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Dedicated to Service

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The Temple rested on the foot of the hill atop of which the Palace of Theed was situated. The slender figure in the traditional white kimono knelt in front of the altar and sang in silence the Halo Thee. When she had been Queen, she had stood at the dais of the Temple, flanked on either side by the priests of the Venerable and had led the congregation in the tidal consecration to the deities. Now, she was a mere citizen of Naboo - an elevated one no less but no longer double Monarch - Queen and High Priestess - and her stance here was at the foot of the altar in humble obeisance.

Many a time in the reign of Queen Amidala, Padmé Naberrie would come down to the Temple, clad in the same common white, to kneel in front of the altar and ask for mercy on the Queen. She had prayed for wisdom and strength and guidance to Her Majesty in times of difficulties. It had been the last thing she had done just before the droid armies of the Trade Federation had swept onto the fields ten years ago. While the figure of Her Majesty had watched from the highest balcony in the Palace, Padmé Naberrie had knelt at the bottom of the hill and prayed for Amidala.

It was early morning in Theed. The twin moons hovered in the sky and the sun was just a vague red mist in the horizon. The Temple was empty except for Padmé and the cold night wind blowing through the elaborate columns. The candles flickered and she shivered.

There were five candles. Four white candles had been lit for each of her supplications. The first was for Naboo and its Queen, the second was for the Naberries of the small mountain village, the third for the fate of the Military Creation Act that had been indefinitely postponed by the Supreme Chancellor, the fourth for the soul of Cordé Velasu whose body had been laid to rest in a small hollow at the other side of the planet, exactly one week today.

The one black candle should never be lit. She had laid it in the Atonement grate when she had entered and the Halo would not be complete until it was melted into wax. It was the only form of prayer a Nubian could pray for his own sake - the Act of Contrition.

The Halo was ended. The candles were still burning as she left the Temple.

Artoo Detoo and Anakin stood at the entrance of the Temple. The Jedi's eyes were shut, his posture was relaxed and to all intents and purposes, he might have been either asleep or meditating. The droid, in uncanny imitation, had placed itself in its standby mode. It was not the first time it had accompanied Amidala or Padmé Naberrie to the Temple and it was extremely well-behaved. As Padmé emerged from the Temple, it switched into its active mode and still silent, proceeded to accompany her. She walked down the entrance steps and did not look up when Anakin followed.

Against her will, she was aware of his presence. He walked beside her like a silent shadow and she was glad for that. She did not wish for Anakin's conversation. His company had been forbidden and he had defied her in order to perform the service he owed her. And that was all there ever could be between them - duty, service - the senator and her Jedi protector - nothing more or less. She might have known him differently in the past but that was exactly that - past. It was not his business whether she dreamt of a home and family outside public service.

It was not her business whether he had nightmares about his mother.

Unbidden, her hand came up to her mouth. Her fingers pressed against her lips; traitorously, her mind recalled in exact detail how it had felt when she -

Sharply, she put her hand down. Her many more candles did she want to burn?

"I had informed you earlier that I did not wish to be accompanied to the Temple," she said coldly, looking stonily ahead of her.

It took Anakin a while to answer her. When he did, he managed to mask the hurt in his voice but not the anger.

"And that is why, my Lady, that I waited outside - in accordance to your requirements."

"I believe I made myself perfectly clear yester night that I did not wish to be accompanied at all."

"You will forgive me for going against your wishes, my lady. And you will accept my apology now for occasions in the future which I might have to go against your wishes in order to perform my duty to you."

This unpleasant conversation was cut short by the sudden approach of an officer of the court.

"Good morning. My Lady, Jedi."

The young handmaiden was called Dyiné. She was the youngest in the Queen's court and was actually still in the middle of her training. Jamilla had assigned her to be at Amidala's disposal during the duration of her stay in Theed. It was not the same thing as having her own handmaidens but it was essential Padmé accept her services because that was the courtesy due to a former Queen.

"Her Majesty wishes me to escort you to her chambers when you are ready to join her for the First Meal."

The invitation had been given the night before. It served a dual purpose - a chance for a private conference between the old and the new Queens over matters concerning Naboo; and it also served a more secret purpose - the need for Amidala to communicate with her lesser known allies in an investigation that had been conducted without Senatorial approval.

"Thank you," replied Padmé graciously. "Please return to my quarters in twenty minutes."

Dyiné nodded and stepped aside for Amidala to pass and then followed sedately. Anakin followed.

-----

The contents of the tray had been handpicked by the Senator herself from her own dishes. Meticulously, she had selected the best of each fruit and the softest of the wheat and arranged the presentation herself. Dyiné left the Queen's private chambers with the meal tray balanced carefully in her arms.

She made her way to the garden over which the veranda of Her Majesty's Quarters looked. Underneath the ancient gojin tree at its the centre, sat Anakin Skywalker, legs crossed and hands resting on his knees in the classic meditative pose. He was probably meditating, thought Dyiné with some disquiet. His eyes were shut and they remained shut even when she was so close to him that her shadow fell over him.

"Thank you."

Without opening his eyes, he removed the tray from her hands which was a good thing because at the sudden sign of animation, she had nearly dropped it.

"Did you pick these yourself?" He had bent his head to shred the wheat. She was looking at the top of his head and could not tell whether he had opened his eyes or not.

Dyiné found her voice. "Senator Amidala chose them," she explained earnestly. "If they are not to your satisfaction -"

"I have no complaints." He looked up then. His blue eyes shone. "Would you care to join me?" And before she could negate him, he added: "A Jedi should never eat alone."

Dyiné had her reservations. But she was very much just a handmaiden-in-training and Anakin Skywalker interested her. She sat down opposite him and took the half of the wheat that he presented to her.

"What is your name?"

His voice was soft, deep and reminded her of the dark running waters around the city.

"Dyiné."

"Dyiné." He enunciated the name correctly and at the same time strangely. "I am pleased to meet you, Dyiné. My name is -"

"Jedi Padawan Anakin Skywalker." She completed. He looked at her and she tossed her head a little. "I know, of course. And I know you," she added perhaps too hastily and blushed. "You fought at the Battle of Naboo."

He bit into the wheat and chewed. When he had swallowed, he said: "That was a long time ago."

"I remember. I threw flowers at you at the Awards Ceremony." She clamped her mouth shut immediately, completely mortified and looked down.

He was silent for a long time. Just as she wondered how she could begin to her excuse herself from him, she felt a sudden rush of something - warmth. It felt like reassurance. Her embarrassment receded and she looked up at him.

"Thank you for your flowers. I was not too young to value the gratitude of this world then. But there were many other warriors in that Battle to whom you owe greater thanks - your own Queen and her handmaidens, the Gungans, the Jedi that lost his life." He fell silent.

Dyiné knew the story of course. It had gone into their history books: the Jedi Master that died in the Battle, the young Jedi Knight that had taken Anakin Skywalker as Padawan. The History Professor at the Academy had explained to Dyiné's class that the emotions of death and loss could never be explained by anything less than experience.

Dyiné knew all about experience.

"I was put in a concentration camp." Anakin Skywalker's blue eyes shot up and held hers as she spoke. "With my father, my elder sister and my younger sister. I was five. Bale was eight. Nye was two. She was little more than a baby. My mother had died giving birth to her."

She paused and waited for the wave of despair that usually accompanied this portion of the re-narration of the story. She felt it creeping up her consciousness like a dark cloud and she steeled herself against it. "There was an epidemic in Lower Jenth, the village next to ours. It had been quarantined before the invasion but of course, when the droid armies were rounding us up into camps, they could not be bothered about such petty details." The despair felt like a pair of heavy balloons behind her eyes. "We were all infected. My father and Bale survived it - barely. Nye died just before the end of the Battle."

Dyiné wondered why she was telling him this. Yes, he was Anakin Skywalker of whom she had idolized for ten years. But he was also a complete stranger. Maybe it was because he was a Jedi now. Perhaps there was something about them that inspired confidences, unburdening of consciences.

But if she had expected instant solace, she was disappointed. The tears were fighting to be freed. She shut her eyes, pressing hard on them with her palms, as if she could physically push back the wave of despair that threatened to overwhelm her. It was even worse than usual. Usually, she could always maintain composure with the narration even if internally, she was in pieces. Now, it was all she could do not to start sobbing hysterically.

Then something - like a strong wind, a bright cloud - seemed to rise up around her. It was not from within but from without. She had no time to analyze its source before it seemed to engulf her and she gasped for sheer ... she did not know the word. It was not joy or sorrow. It was like being purged. The balloons behind her eyes burst. And then she did weep but only to shed a few tears that dried before they could stain her ritual makeup.

Then everything was clear. Her mind touched on Nye briefly. The ache was there. But it was a healed wound. She had been healed.

Dyiné opened her eyes into the Jedi's blue ones. She wanted to say thank you but her voice could not utter the sounds. Some part of her metaphysical training was trying to analyze what just happened. Perhaps this had been why he had asked her to join with him. This might even have been why she was drawn to him in the first place. Perhaps, even her ten-year fascination with Anakin Skywalker had laid the foundation for this crucial meeting - and this healing.

Or perhaps, she was just at the right place and at the right time and he was a true Jedi who - what did the Professors call it? - served.

A Jedi who served.

The Jedi was now looking down at his meal tray; he selected one gover and carefully cut it into two halves. He offered her one and she accepted.

For a while, they ate in silence but somehow the emptiness of sound was a fullness of its own.

-----

That would be the last time Padmé would be able to communicate freely with any of her allies without risking exposure. A holo-conference had been out of the question. Artoo had been connected to the hidden receivers that were known only to the Queen and her handmaidens. They had communicated via audio-proj, the channels scrambled and the conversation kept brief to prevent interception. Even then, they had made use of codes and symbols in their language. All in all, the conversation had been only two short lines:

What did it contain?

Decryption will not be completed until the next 48 hours.

Padmé could have wept with frustration. There was no way that Anakin would be persuaded to allow her to stay in Theed longer than before the Second Meal. He had been against her staying overnight at all. And regardless of her stance towards him, she privately dreaded that if they came to loggerheads, he might use his metaphysical Jedi powers to persuade her. He would be perfectly within the boundaries of his mandate to do that. And even without resorting to that, a complaint from him would cause the Jedi Council to inform the Chancellor about her uncooperativeness. And that would be worse. With the extent of the Council's influence on Palpatine, Padmé did not even want to consider the consequences of that action.

If she were honest to herself, she realized that she had already stayed in Theed long enough to be safe. She could only pray that Bail would use his discretion in handling the information he had at hand.

Artoo beeped at her in concern. Padmé sighed and placed a hand on its smooth dome. As usual, the action comforted her. She left Jamilla's private COM room and returned to the Queen's dining chambers.

Jamilla had long retired into her private chambers in order to prepare for the new day and its endless demands on the monarchy. Padmé had told her only enough for Jamilla to be informed. Amidala appreciated all too well that the burden of Inter-Galactic politics should never be placed on the Queen's shoulders. Theirs were two separate spheres. How well she remembered telling that to the then Senator Palpatine ten years ago in Coruscant.

So much had changed since then.

Then the politics of the Republic had sickened and disillusioned her. Then she had been a ruler with a simple (although she had never realized it then) directive: to safeguard her world. Then she had doubted the effectiveness of the Jedi Knights (that had only marginally changed) and then she had taken the adoration of a nine-year-old boy as her due and thought nothing to discourage it.

Padmé shied away from the thoughts that that would inevitably lead to. She walked around the dining room, touching furniture that was once familiar, noting the subtle changes in arrangement. Subtle, yes, but definite changes. Nothing ever stayed the same.

She had wandered over to the balcony. She looked down at the garden and noted that the once-flourishing gojin tree was almost fruitless. It was impossible to estimate from so little observation but Padmé was right in believing as she did that the tree had reached and passed its life's peak. It would not need destroying until another century but the decline had started.

We are born. We grow old. We die.

Beside her, Artoo gave a little hoot of recognition.

Unconsciously, the hands that had been resting on the balustrade clenched. She gripped the stone paving hard.

Anakin was sitting cross-legged underneath the dangling branches of the gojin tree, his back against its bark. He was sharing his First Meal with Dyiné. They were too far away for Padmé to make out what they were saying but it was enough that Dyiné was eating between giggles and her cheeks were rosy under her makeup. Anakin was smiling in a way Padmé had not seen him do since before they arrived at the Palace. His eyes were never steady. They scanned the garden and looked at his food and flashed at Dyiné and glanced up at the balcony.

He was looking at her.

The stones were cutting into her fingers but she could not bring herself to let go. He was paling and she could feel the blood on her own face draining away.

Padmé

Shh... I'm here.

No. Never.

The glob of black wax was still warm in the Atonement Grate.

But as long as his blue eyes did not lift from her face, she could not look elsewhere.

"Senator Amidala!"

The connection was broken abruptly. Padmé turned her head slightly to acknowledge the flustered looking handmaiden who was now standing and looking up at her in a desperate attempt to re-establish the poise of her office.

Padmé tried to feel sympathetic towards the girl.

She failed.

The handmaidens to the Monarch of Naboo were the closest person to her in court. They were her counsellors, bodyguards, valets, generals and in matters of expediency, deputies. They performed their duties without reminder, consulting with the Queen as equals and not as servants. Courtesy was given to them as courtesy was given to the Queen herself. An insult to a handmaiden - even to a handmaiden in training - was equivalent to an insult to the Queen herself.

What Padmé was about to do would be unpardonable.

Artoo Detoo gave one shrill warning beep.

Padmé had not even realized that she had been about to speak. She closed her mouth immediately and screamed silently in her mind. She had almost - Almost -

How could she have lost composure like that?

The reason was staring at her from underneath the gojin tree, his eyes talking to her the way they sometimes did and telling her they knew exactly what she had been about to say and understood exactly why and there was really no reason to fight this because it was too powerful and it was even more, inevitable and if she would just give in, she need never dream or want for anything or -

Padmé turned so sharply that she almost fell over Artoo. The droid screeched indignantly. Padmé waved a hand behind her in abstract apology.

It was past first light. Undoubtedly, the Temple would no longer be empty; she would wear a shroud and risk it. It did not matter if Anakin was probably already sensing her intentions and removing himself from Dyiné's company in order to join her. It did not matter in the least. What mattered was the black candle that she needed to burn.

A few moments later, two figures were standing motionlessly by the Temple doors. The droid had switched to its standby mode. The Jedi was presumably in his meditative mood.

He was smiling.

FIN

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