Title: Queen of Naboo
Author: helgaleena
Rated: G
Category: POV Padme
Disclaimer: Lucas is the god of Star Wars and owns everything. I am nothing.
Authors note: There are many, many handmaidens in here. The right ones.
Summary: Set right in the middle of TPM. We find out what it means to be a Queen, especially to the three Jedi in her life.

There have been thousands of us. There will be thousands more, as long as our planet is free in the galaxy. We are sisters, guardians of our people. We are their servants and their guides. Honoring that, we slip in and out of our roles as easily as we change our clothing. We are the heroine with a thousand faces. We are the Queens of Naboo.

I am Padme Amidala. Like my sisters, as soon as I chose government service school, I was screened by the Handmaidens. They use as an ideal an icon from Nubian history, from the earliest years of human settlement. We all resemble or ancestor. We are all inteligent, skilled, of dark coloration, and young. We all begin as Handmaidens, once we are chosen. And I was chosen. My sisters chose me.

Not all Handmaidens become Queen. That is yet another level of selection, then election by the people of Naboo, every two years. The term length is also traditional. Our ancestors had their wonderful Queen for only two years before she died; then there followed a century of war. She was killed by a servant who wanted to become queen by secretly taking her place. But that one had no ability as a ruler; she was a puppet of her lover.

That is why our sisterhood is one of Handmaidens. We watch one another's backs.

All the humans remaining on Naboo after that dreadful time had had enough of anarchy. They wanted democracy, but they also wanted someone who could sway their hearts. The Handmaidens were the major instigators of the peace. They instituted this model of organization to honor our ancestor-- two years of being Queen, surrounding her with Handmaidens. With the blessing of the gods, it has endured. I will always be a Handmaiden, until I leave Naboo or die. For now, I am Queen.

Handmaidens grow up early in order to provide potential Queens. We are taught diplomacy, strategy, self-defense, deportment. We need to absorb much more history and mythology than other girls our age. Most importantly, we learn to play a role. This is theatre in real life, and we are all each others' understudies. Sabe and I have the most similar voices, so she is often saddled with playing me.

No matter who among us is elected Queen, which is a seasonal pageant itself, we are guaranteed to be the best of Nubian womanhood. Any of us could lead, with the aid of our sisters. I am so honored. And for the rest of this lifetime, I will always be sharing duties with my Handmaidens.

There have been many Handmaidens in my family, actually, but not in this century. Gran's mother was a Handmaiden; that's the most recent one. She was so proud when I was chosen! and she got to see me in the orange veils before she died. I think my ancestresses continue to watch over their sisters, so even if it's not Gran, it's Great-gran, looking over my shoulder as I do my duty. Sabe says that's silly, but Sache doesn't. She says it stands to reason; it's what we do in real life, isn't it?

Not all government officials are Handmaidens, but many of the female ones are; it's a logical connection, certainly. Handmaidens run the Theed Post Office, and serve in the Navy and the national Guardians; I think there are some in every career, though. No matter if we are wrinkled and stiff, or have gotten fat during the raising of our children, we all have those orange costumes hanging in the back of the wardrobe. And we have our ceremonies, but of course I will not tell you about those. Even Gran didn't know them. I will tell you that some of it is magic. But it is magic that springs from the loving hearts of our own people, so it cannot be evil.

All the Handmaidens surrounding the Queen are within two years of her age. We are like graduating classes, who will remain close all our lives. For the Queen's safety, this is vital. One of us won the election, but the others of our age-grade will help with the burden of ruling. And like sisters, we do everything for one another. I have a birth-sister older than me, but she will never be as close to me as I am to my age-grade sisters. We share clothes and make-up and confidences and instructional classes. It's a matter of security, for at any moment, one of us could be struck down. Being Queen means being a target. But they will never kill us all.

Only fifty years ago, someone sabotaged a transport carring the Queen and her retinue, and all aboard were killed. But very few people know this; it never made the news services, even in Theed. That is because her age-grade replaced her immediately, with a sister who took her name. Her Handmaidens for a year, if you looked closely, were a little older and a little younger than her. That is all that happened.

I and my age-sisters weren't told this until after I was elected. A story like that sobers any fourteen-year-old!! We all began to cry and hold onto each other, as I remember. Then the older Handmaidens surrounded us and encircled us with their arms, and sang the song we use in our ceremonies, until we were smiling again. It was horrible and wonderful at once. And we knew it was true. We heard it from the Queen of that term herself. I won't tell you which one.

Before becoming Queen, I had seldom seen off-worlders of the larger galaxy, only studied them at school. Most non-Nubians don't know about the Queen having more than one face behind her regalia. I think the Jedi master knew at once. Perhaps he made a study of it before his mission; there are Nubian Jedi, after all. But he certainly didn't tell, not even his padawan.

My sisters and I agree, they are both really dreamy! Nubian boys don't measure up! It's quite a relief to have something to giggle about, when our world is in such peril. They arrived right through the Federation blockade, through the planet's core, with the help of a Gungan. Even he is exotic to us; Gungans have been shunning Nubians and our wars for centuries. But the main thing is, they rescued us.

That is how six of us escaped the Naboo invasion, including me. Sache was playing the Queen, for security reasons, when Obi-wan and Master Qui-gon intercepted our transport to the detention camp. I was just Padme, and I took advantage of that to order Panaka to let me tag along with Qui-gon to the Tatooine settlement, for spare parts. Obi-wan thought he was guarding me back on the ship the whole time--he never suspected! Corde told me so. But Qui-gon did. He knew that if one of us was with him, we all were.

But I --I mean we-- had never been off planet before, and we were curious! They mostly spoke Huttese there, had nearly no water, and wouldn't take our Republic credits. We were in a spot. The ship needed repair after running the blockade, or we would never make it to Coruscant to get help for Naboo.

Qui-gon and I were adopted by a little slave boy, Anakin, who was a genius with machines. The only dealer who had parts for our ship was his owner. Through an amazing series of coincidences and good fortune, Qui-gon wagered our ship on the outcome of a pod race, and that remarkable boy won us our parts, as well as his own freedom.

He made such horrid gambles with that little boy's life! I caught myself telling Qui-gon that the Queen would not approve of what he was doing. Well, I didn't! He knew exactly whom he was addressing when he turned, looked me straight in the eye, and replied,

"The Queen need never know." Infuriating! But I had no recourse. Anakin was all too willing; he does have tremendous skill and self-confidence, as well as incredible luck. Still, I pitied the boy's poor, long-suffering mother, watching her son in danger. And now she has lost him.

That is something I have in common with Master Qui-gon, and nearly no one else, even his padawan. We both know Anakin's birth-mother. The little boy missing his only blood relation has touched all our hearts, but especially me, Padme Amidala. He left his whole childhood behind to follow Qui-gon out into the stars. And space is very cold...

I will never forget his first evening aboard the ship, as we resumed our journey to the capital planet. Sabe had told me about the holomessage, allegedly from Sio Bibble, that she had received in my absence and refused to answer. In my Handmaiden's robes, I stole out through the corridors to the lounge area to replay it. Shortage of bunks meant the Gungan and the boy were to sleep there. Jar-jar had his feet up on the table and was snoring. Nobody would be disturbed, then. I played the message; it looked like Counselor Bibble. If it were true, our people were even now being slaughtered.

As I turned away, I felt eyes upon me. In the corner a tousled blond head regarded me. It was Ani, our savior, propped up on the bench, all tired out but unable to sleep.

"It's very cold," he said.

"You come from a warm planet, Ani, too warm for my taste. And space is very cold." I went to cover him with the extra shawl I had wrapped around my waist. Before I could tuck it securely, he scrambled to pull out something and press it into my hand. He had made a little keepsake for me, out of a japor snippet, whatever that is. I still have it somewhere. He didn't want me to forget him. Me, Padme! Not the Queen, but the girl who knew where he came from. Who knew his mother.

What could I say? What I did say, at last, was that I didn't need anything to remember him by. That I cared for him no matter where we were. He truly didn't understand how lovable a child he was, having existed upon mother-love alone for so long.

No, it would be impossible for me to forget Anakin. For anyone, really; all the Handmaidens were fond of him by the end of our journey. But it was me, Padme, not some Queen, he wanted to be remembered to. And I wish him well on his road through the stars as a young Jedi. They will be his family now, just as the Handmaidens are mine.

We are going to liberate Naboo.

I must admit that it is long odds for us to succeed, but I feel as if every Queen of the past and future is lending me strength and wisdom.

When we approached Boss Nass of the Gungans for assistance, it became clear that I had to handle the negotiation as myself; Sabe was getting flustered. I rushed forward, and revealed a Handmaiden secret to a foreign power. It was like baring my throat to a warrior holding a blade.

But we will do anything to save our people. The Gungans at last understood the desperate situation that would drive a Queen to such a course. And if I was kneeling before him in supplication, so was every Nubian whom I represent. I felt as if all the Queens of the past knelt with me in that forest glade, offering alliance. If it hadn't worked, any effort to resist the occupation would be in vain. Thank Naboo, it worked.

Qui-gon, Obi-wan and I were able to come up with a desperate but viable strategy. In this venture, all but one of my Handmaidens will fight alongside me. Captain Panaka was able to rally the local resistance, including pilots to assault the orbiting power station responsible for the blockade. While the Gungan forces engage the droid army, we will infiltrate the palace with our secret knowledge of it, and capture the treacherous Nemoidians. Yane stays behind at the Gungan sanctuary, to pray for us. It is what she excels at anyway, and if we fail, she will be Amidala.

They can never kill us all.


END

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