Suppression: Sneak Peek at the next chapter
Hello there! I haven't been nearly as active on tumblr as I've wanted to be lately, but I thought I might make up for that with a sneak peek at one of the final chapters of the fic. This a flashback, and experienced readers know the text of flashbacks appear in the story in italics. Because the segment is on its own here, however, I'm changing it to regular font for the purpose of this post.
For those unfamiliar with my fanfiction story, Suppression, it follows the canon/legends AOTC story of Anakin and Padmé's courtship-- with a lot of extra scenes added in. Here are some links if you'd like to check it out!
AO3 Link and Fanfiction.Net Link
A galaxy's worth of gratitude to those who have found/followed me on tumblr. This sneak peek is meant as my sincere thanks to you all.
Chapter 57. The Holy Man Returns
O love, O fire! once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul through
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
― Alfred Lord Tennyson
“Don’t hold back,” I stated firmly. “I want them to be able to see it from the other side of the chamber.”
Rabé silently followed my instructions, drawing the makeup brush in the red pigment before reapplying it to my top lip. She was careful to mind the established lines so the effect did not bleed— ironic, as the color of the cosmetic was meant to symbolize spilled blood. The Scar of Remembrance deepened under her expert hand. The ceremonial markings represented the suffering my people endured before the Great Time of Peace. Since the day my term began, I’d donned the lipstick, face coat, and twin dots to solemnly remember an ancient history I had no personal recollection of. Today, it was my war paint. History took second-standing to contemporary threats. My pacifist home had an enemy… and we were losing.
I squinted at the blinding light coming through the window’s horizontal shades, but I didn’t move. Rabé had asked me to stand in the bright path of Coruscant’s sun so that she may better retouch my makeup. I obeyed the rules of my handler as devoutly as she obeyed the decrees of her Queen.
The tip of my tongue and the juices in my mouth captured the flavors. The red pigment tasted like almonds, as it always did; the white like sour candy. At least, to me. Sabé often insisted the white tasted how her aunt’s “nasty perfume” smelled. After a minute more of ministrations, Rabé retrieved a mirror the size of a datapad for a final check. She held it up from a meter away, and a ghostly white face interrupted by dark hues stared back at me. There was the red, of course, but she’d also filled in the brown of my eyebrows well— not that I used them much to convey expression when I adopted the Amidala persona.
Today had to be a careful exception. An exception to the usual brand of stoicism because I was here to plead a case, and I would seek to touch the emotions of those listening. Careful, because the Senator for the Trade Federation would be there too. For the sake of my home world, I could not afford to look unbalanced in front of him.
“Does it please you?” Rabé’s accent enveloped her question in its lovely way.
Weary of the weight of the horned headpiece, I only slightly dipped my chin in approval.
It was an ingenious trick— Eirtaé’s suggestion— to wear the ornate horns for the all-important event, as it added a significant amount of height and authority to my petite frame. The red and gold layers of my wide dress helped greatly as well. But although the adornments of arched hair and many tassels were counterbalanced by the full train of sectioned hair going down my back, I was still getting reacquainted with having such a massive embellishment on my head. Just three days on Tatooine allowed me to fall back into the comfort of being a regular girl again, with a regular girl’s braids. If I hadn’t worn the medium-sized, fanned headpiece during my strategy meeting with Senator Palpatine— easing me back into the physicality of Queen— the transition from simple handmaiden garb to this might have given me whiplash.
With my styling complete, Rabé stashed the mirror and went to help the others. Sabé and Eirtaé were storing the rejected wardrobe options back into my upright trunks.
The silence as they worked was deafening.
It was unnerving for all of us— to be a group of four, instead of our usual six. The compensating rhythm was awkward and… sad. There was too much space in the opulent room. Too much empty air. Fear for Saché and Yané fueled my growing impatience. It had been gracious of Palpatine to offer rooms to his Queen in his own apartment, but I was restless to trade these red walls and black statues for the audience I’d traveled here for— the audience I’d abandoned my people and run a blockade to be seen by.
{Our only hope is for the Senate to side with us.}
“How much longer must we wait?”
“Senator Palpatine promised he will be here to escort you before the special session begins.” If Sabé’s voice had an accent, it was one of lingering regal authority. Similar to me, albeit in the opposite direction, my decoy was still adjusting into her alternative-self. Her vocal cords were finding their way back to her natural tone after using the Queen’s voice, in which she’d been meticulously confined ever since we’d switched roles in the palace. It had been, by far, the longest she’d ever had to use it.
Rabé’s voice rang with concern. “Do you think it is as he said? The Supreme Chancellor does not have the power to help us?”
“Chancellor Valorum called for this special session so that I may address the Senate. I cannot believe they will allow the injustice to continue once they’ve learned of it.” Surely, the state of the government couldn’t be as bleak as Palpatine claimed. His idea of calling for a vote of no confidence had to remain a last resort. Even if Valorum was ineffectual, it was far better for Naboo to have an ally in a weakened Chancellor than for me to make an enemy of one. I fought back a nervous fear flooding through my chest. This would be the most important speech, not just of my political career, but of my life. “I have one chance to get this right.”
“The truth is on our side,” Sabé affirmed. “All you need to do is tell the truth.”
I dipped my chin in agreement, though I knew the theatrics of politics made it more complicated than that. My eyes dropped to the floor. After a moment, I closed my lids completely in order to concentrate. I hadn’t been in the Senate Rotunda since my time as an Apprentice Legislator. I pictured the unparalleled magnitude of the chamber. Its thousands of identical hoverpods. I would need to convince as many of their occupants as I could. “Esteemed representatives…” I lowered my voice into the Queen’s register. “Esteemed representatives of the Republic.”
I was fortunate the tone we’d chosen to hide our voices behind was pitched so low. It wasn’t unusual to the Naboo to elect fourteen-year-olds into sovereignty, but I was aware that many other planets— even with cultures populated by humans— did not share such a respect for their younger generations. Wardrobe, word-choice, timbre, posture, expression— I needed to broadcast the maturity of someone twice my age.
Wardrobe was complete, posture and expression were second-nature, and I was already successful at tapping back into the trademark voice. That just left the speech.
Back and forth, I paced across the blush-red carpet in my slowed, weighted walk. Three pairs of piercing eyes watched me work through the very best selections of Basic. I did not feel the gaze of doting handmaidens, but of frightened daughters. Sisters. Nieces. Each of them, just like me, had families and friends left to unknown fates. Each of them was as invested as me in the outcome of this nightmare— but their loved ones’ lives were solely in my hands, not in theirs.
The weight of monarchy had never felt so heavy on my adolescent shoulders.
I bit down on my lip without thinking and tasted the white pigment. Doing so made me realize how much Sabé must’ve thought about her aunt these past days.
{The Senate is full of greedy, squabbling delegates.}
“Esteemed repre… Honorable representatives of the Republic. Distinguished delegates.”
{There is no interest in the common good.}
Every sentence would be an opportunity for a catastrophic stumble.
“Chancellor Valorum— Your Honor, Supreme Chancellor Valorum. I have come to… I come to you in a time of great peril for my people.”
{The Chancellor has little real power. He is mired by baseless accusations of corruption.}
“I come to you under the most perilous of circumstances.” I shook my head. “That’s not it.” My stomach twisted in the hand of anxiety’s grip.
Sabé’s voice came from somewhere behind me. “What about, ‘under the gravest of circumstances?’”
But my attention had been caught by Rabé. She was speaking into a comm. “Let him in.”
As she left our room and moved towards the circular atrium, I felt a rush of irritation. There wouldn’t be a need for a security-comm check if Senator Palpatine had arrived. Until I felt comfortable with my heartfelt-but-not-hysterical, emphatic-but-not-weak plea, I didn’t want any visitors. I made eye contact with the others. “If it isn’t Captain Panaka, an escort arriving to take me to the Senate, or the Viceroy himself coming to announce his retreat, I do not wish to be disturbed.”
Eirtaé suddenly looked hopeful. “What if it is Chancellor Valorum?”
I appreciated her optimism but knew the odds of it being right were slim to none. I heard the entry door close. Soon after, I was sure I heard my name— my real name, the name my parents gave me— spoken. I made my voice loud. “Who is it?” My feet carried me the steps it took to pass the wall barrier and see the visitor for myself.
Rabé announced the answer just as a scrawny arm and a matted head of blond hair came into view. “Anakin Skywalker to see Padmé, Your Highness.”
Our eyes connected. I waited a half-second— just a half-second— to see. It was strange, that though the success of the decoy switch was a life-or-death matter, I wanted Ani to see through it. But the funny little boy who knew so much— who gave me his bed while he slept next to it on the sandy floor; who blushed when I embraced him after he victoriously risked his life to help us— regarded me without any sign of recognition at all.
Good, I reminded myself, papering over the unexpected disappointment. That’s a good thing.
He bowed like any nine-year-old without practice at it would. Ani wasn’t going to be a critical news-bearer or an escort. I wasn’t as annoyed to see him as I might’ve been by another interrupter, but I didn’t have time for this. My voice was curt. “I’ve sent Padmé on an errand.”
I inwardly— never outwardly— flinched at my blunder. Eirtaé and Sabé were behind me. Rabé stood next to Ani. Three handmaidens had come to the capital with the Queen of Naboo. Three handmaidens and a Queen stood within his sight. Luckily, Ani didn’t seem to count or care. It only mattered to him that the angel he sought wasn’t here.
There was something about the way he nervously twitched his hands that pulled at my heart. This child had snuggled into my arms in the ship’s booth just hours ago, looking up at me with trust while he cried for his mother. I’d sung him lullabies until he’d fallen asleep. Now, he was clearly intimidated by the imposing figure— the stranger— before him. “I’m on my way to the Jedi Temple to start my training, I hope.” He became crest-fallen. “I may never see her again, so I came to say goodbye.”
Never see each other again?
No, no, not now. Not like this.
He’d burst into my life so recently, and at such a desperate hour, but the concept of a final goodbye between us was surprising in its discomfort. And yet… was it? Anakin Skywalker had been the only person or reason why I’d smiled— even laughed— since the moment Federation starships arrived in Naboo’s orbit. He’d been my eye of calm in the center of an overwhelming storm. He’d become my friend. Now, I was supposed to look at him as if I barely knew him— as if this was the first conversation we’d ever had.
I’d never wanted to wretch away the Amidala mask so badly before.
See me, Ani. Give me a sign that you see who I am, or even that you suspect these words are coming from me.
“We will tell her for you. We are sure her heart goes with you.”
It was as much emotion as I dared to infuse in my voice.
He bowed respectfully. Again, there was no indication Ani wondered if he was talking to the person he’d claimed just days ago he was going to marry. If anything, I detected an emerging smirk at my headpiece, like he found it a tad much. Padmé would have agreed with him. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
I turned away, fearful that my mask would not hold much longer. Fearful he would finally recognize me, which I knew couldn’t be allowed. I kept my eyes on him until the last possible moment, dreading and hoping for the flash of awareness that never came.
After I heard the exterior doors slide shut, I stared down at the floor, as immobile as Palpatine’s polished statues. When I eventually looked up at the two handmaidens studying me, I saw surprise in their expressions. It didn’t matter. My eyes were already scanning the room for something precious.
“There was a gray, drawstring pouch. I put an amulet in it. Is it here, or was it left on my ship?”
Rabé walked back into the room and looked between the three of us. She’d heard my question, but she, too, shrugged along with the others. “I am not sure.”
“There are designs carved into it. It’s strung on a thick, brown cord.”
Eirtaé apologetically offered, “I didn’t see a gray pouch anywhere.”
I told him I didn’t need the Japor snippet to remember him by, but I couldn’t have lost it so quickly!
“It’s of great importance to me.”
Rabé looked perplexed. “Do you require it for your speech?”
The hooded trio were scrutinizing me, clearly confused. They didn’t know if this amulet was a lucky token of some kind I wanted for a superstitious cause, or perhaps a literal bargaining chip important to a secret strategy known only to their Queen.
I opened my white and red mouth to explain, but no words came out, except, “No… I don’t need it for the Senate.”
Sabé accepted the situation for whatever it was. She nodded and declared, “We will find it after.”
Once again, I heard the endowed authority that was supposed to be in my voice instead present in hers. I clung to it. On a rational plane, I knew the level of wrongness I felt under my skin was absurd.
But somewhere very deep within— some ancient part of my young soul that spoke a language I was years away from understanding— grappled with the poisonous idea that I’d never see Anakin Skywalker again.
“Yes. Make sure it is not lost.”
