Queen's Peril (Star Wars)

by E.K. Johnston

But in her heart, she knew already. She always had. She had made herself to serve, and she would do so from the highest possible position.

Her appearance was her first line of defense, and she planned to muster it as deliberately as possible.

Qui-Gon smiled indulgently. It would have bothered Obi-Wan, once upon a time. As a boy he’d held the Council in such high regard, the be-all and end-all of true Jedi ambition. He still didn’t entirely agree with Qui-Gon’s approach to things, but he had long ago accepted it as a viable alternative. It was, after all, important to avoid absolutes.

“Or kick-start unlikely romances with the local nobility.” The rebuke in Qui-Gon’s tone for Obi-Wan’s choice of wording was unmistakable: some things were too serious to be understated.

Most of all, he hated the Jedi. They hadn’t come for him. He didn’t know if they had sensed him and found him unworthy, or if, in his untrained state, he hadn’t been worth their time, but it didn’t matter. They had ignored him, passed him over for some unknown reason, and even though he had been better served by their neglect—he was more powerful with his anger than he could have been without it—he counted the days until he could make them pay.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Anakin said. “I’m always going to be with you.”

This is what it was like for Padmé all the time, Sabé realized. No matter how close to her the other handmaidens got, as soon as the face went on, the walls went up, and Padmé had to trust that when the walls came down again, everyone would still like her.

And yet, her heart ached for this good woman and for her selfless son, and she knew that it always would.