Chapter Text
Padmé missed her handmaidens. If for nothing else, because she really did not want to be in this particular meeting. Her back was sore, and she really needed to find a refresher, but couldn’t afford to miss the rest of this council session on the off chance something important happened. Handmaidens solved this problem, and many others. She tried to console herself with the thought that they were all well (as well as they could ever be without being together) and performing roles that they chose throughout the galaxy. Distantly, Aavi Ioka kept speaking, the latest in a series of monologues demanding changes in hyperspace lanes for the convenience of the Chiss. As much as Padmé knew it was going to be a struggle to do anything about it, she could recognize that it would be an advantageous move to begin making.
If the Chiss could not make it to Coruscant without difficulty, they’d be less likely to continue attending the (endless) senate meetings, councils, and political parties that were required for a Republic ally. There were others who would be willing to make the trip to Csilla. Many others. The only reason Padmé hadn’t spoken to Senator Ioka yet was because she wanted to be sure she truly had something to offer, before running off and promising the Republic’s time and energy to building a new hyperspace lane, purely for the Chiss to use. She’d mentioned it to Bail, handed the information to Versé, and tried to let the urgency of the situation slip from her mind.
Even so— it was one of Aavi’s top concerns.
“You claim that it is fair to be penalizing us for missed meetings, Councillor?” She had moved to addressing an unofficial Twi' consultant, who had been looking less than pleased with the proceedings for several minutes. Padmé sighed, knowing she’d need to intervene soon. “My planet is buried in the unknown regions, with no hyperspace lanes reaching us. We must navigate the whales, and asteroid belts, and moons that have yet to be discovered and recorded, while you sit here on your gilded throne being hand-fed piatii berries! You declare meetings less than two full rotations before they begin, knowing that I am still several days from arriving, and then blame it on my inability to keep a schedule?”
Padmé sat up incrementally more (as if there was much room to slouch in this dress. Rabé had insisted on the bulletproof ribbing, and ignored the accusations that it was a ploy to correct the posture she was always hassling everyone else about) at this, watching the Twi’lek shift their weight. “Yes, I did hear about that. And I’d appreciate if you kept your comments on my wardrobe to yourself— I understand that you hail from a warmer planet, Councillor, but I must be dressed for Csilla’s windchill just as easily as a hastily-planned high-rise dinner party.” Aavi narrowed her eyes at the Human senator accompanying the Twi’, and everyone knew it was a jab at the party he had hosted last week in an attempt to catch only those who were native to Coruscant and the inner rims. Most people leave between sessions— returning to home worlds to discuss, making diplomatic visits, or checking on whatever spies they inevitably have nestled around the galaxy. Even Padmé hadn’t made it to that party, but Senator Ioka, who didn’t have the time to make it to Csilla and back before the next session, was one of very few off-worlders who made it. Padmé starts mentally rearranging her schedule to make more room for this new hyperspace lane.
She’s admired Aavi for longer than they’ve known each other, and known her longer than they’ve gotten along. This kind of move is not only an attempt to gain political favor, but a gift for a friend who misses her home. Padmé understands that. At the thought of Naboo, that dull ache where her handmaidens should stand reappears. She adds a side-note to check when Sabé is supposed to be on-world again.
Inhaling carefully, Padmé leans forward and presses on the lever that will pull her platform forward in order to speak. If she does not step in now, the Chancellor will be forced to, and as much as anyone loves to hear him talk about himself, Padmé would rather make it out before sunset.
“Senator Ioka, Naboo recognizes your concerns, for they are ours as well. Even the Mid Rim struggles to keep up with the busy schedules of many senators on Coruscant. I’m sure that Councillor Gesa and Senator Tejunt,” Padmé nods towards both of them as she speaks, “Had only meant to find time for a gathering when there was little to be had. Even I struggle to find the time to meet with my close friends, these days,” There is a light-hearted and placating smile added to the end, meant to settle the argument and appeal to all sides. Anakin frequently complimented Padmé’s ability to solve all sides of an issue at once— making Aavi feel seen, acknowledging her anger and the anger of many others here, without giving enough of an insult to hurt her reputation with Senator Tejunt. Or Gesa, for that matter. Councilors are as effective spies as a bug slipped into a datapad.
“And I’m sure, as well, that there will be other parties in the near future. It’s not as if it’s hard to catch everyone on the same planet at the same time,” She gestures around the room, earning a small laugh echoing throughout the chamber. “Regarding the issue of the hyperspace lanes, would you be able to contribute any kind of maps or documentation to the most common obstacles on your usual route, in the case that the resources were found?” A silent promise is forged here, the slightest hint that it’s already in the works.
“Our pilots generally keep very good records of-” Aavi starts to speak, and cuts herself off as Chancellor Palpatine’s stand floats towards the center again, propelling her back towards her dock. She shares a look with Padmé— the incessant exhaustion of being silenced by everyone in this Senate. Padmé nods, hopefully Aavi gets the message to find her later. Padmé adds a reminder to contact Aavi in a few days if she doesn’t receive the maps to the list.
“Thank you for your opinions, Senators Ioka and Amidala,” Palpatine begins. Padmé leans back again, knotting her hands in her lap and gnawing slightly on the inside of her cheek in an imperceptible display of annoyance. “But unfortunately, it is time to concede the session. I know that there are many here who wish to catch the shuttle off-world at 21, so we really mustn’t run much later. Motion to end session,”
A wave of vote lights appears throughout the chamber, and Padmé grits her teeth as she agrees to end.
“Unanimous. Have an excellent evening, everyone, and don’t forget that we already have a session scheduled for next month. Information will be sent soon,” Palpatine’s own stand docks again, and the chamber fills with the sort of delicate small-talk that comes as everyone peels themselves from their seats, not quite able to discuss the day’s events yet.
“Would you like assistance, Senator?” Gregar asked, nearly under his breath, as Padmé hesitated before getting up. Padmé considered for a moment, the ache in her back and neck, and the fact that she hadn’t eaten in over six hours (a consequence of such sessions, and one that would have to be quickly remedied if she wasn’t going to collapse during her evening work) before nodding, once. A carefully perfected routine that even Quarsh Panaka couldn’t get just right, Gregar stepped up next to Padmé and acted as if he were leaning in to tell her something, placing his hand on her back and grabbing the anchor strap hidden as a belt— another gift from Rabé, and a very useful one, as they all are. “One,” Padme pulls herself together, bracing to stand. “Two,” She nods, as if receiving some kind of instruction. “Three,” Gregar pulls her up as she stands, and the two of them steer her quickly around their seats and into the small, airlock-like space between rooms. An awful lot of effort just to hide the fact that Padmé can barely turn her head in this dress without breaking it.
The effort of maintaining that Amidala look, she decides.
“Thank you, Gregar, if you’d see me to my rooms you can be dismissed for the evening. I’m sure that Ele has missed you,” Padmé teases. “Threepio, time to go,”
Threepio snaps awake all at once, realizing that the meeting has ended.
“Excellent work today, Senator. You’ve received four messages from your wardrobe mistress, one from Senator Organa, and three from my maker. Would you like to hear them?”
“From Rabé or Dormé?” Padmé takes a water bottle and a nutrient bar from Gregar’s hands, opening both.
“Rabé. She wishes to discuss changes to two of your headdresses, and needs updated measurements from Dormé for a new dress that she has begun to plan. Would you like me to inform her that you’ve been notified?”
“Yes please, Threepio,” Padmé replies, holding a hand over her mouth as she tries to eat the nutrient bar. Gregar waits patiently by the door, ready to open it as soon as she’s done. “Forward my messages from Senator Organa to my personal datapad, and I assume that you have repairs tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am. I believe as soon as we arrive.”
“Alright, I have to speak to Aavi before we go home, but that should be all for tonight. Gregar, do you know where—”
“Right here, Senator,” Gregar steps aside, revealing the trash chute so that Padmé can dispose of the wrappings for her hasty snack. A desperate attempt at reducing the amount of times that she faints on her way out of a session, apparently a notorious problem among Human senators. You’d think that would lead to a change in the policy for the length of a session, or the policy on food in the chamber, but no. And who is Padmé to argue with that, she rolls her eyes bitterly.
“Any crumbs?”
“No, sir,” Gregar replies. “Part of your collar isn’t sitting correctly, though. May I?” Padmé shifts her head slightly in response. The annoying part of picking the costume as part of her image is that she has to maintain a costume as part of her image. Officially, Rabé and Dormé are the managers of her wardrobe— Rabé mostly operating from Naboo, occasionally coming to make alterations and finalize the fittings for new outfits, but Dormé is the one who assists with the day-to-day, also acting as a decoy when necessary— but really, anyone who spends any manner of time with her as a friend ends up assisting. Gregar straightens her collars, helps her ensure that her sleeves drape appropriately (always asking before making such adjustments, and only ever doing them out-of-sight as well) and reminds her to shift certain ways to show off the draped jewelry most outfits feature.
“How do I look, Threepio?” Padmé asks the droid, turning towards him. He starts, raising his hands. “Exquisite as always, Senator. I’m sure that there will be no negative comments on your state of dress tonight.” He says with finality. High praise, from a droid.
“Alright, out we go then.”
As Gregar opens the door, the noise from the hallway envelopes the group. Padmé steps forward, knowing that Gregar will fall in behind her and ensure that Threepio doesn’t get lost, as well as act as a boundary to ensure no one steps on her skirts— intentionally or otherwise. The dress she’s wearing today isn’t quite as extravagant as the Amidala dress (as she’s taken to referring to the elaborate red dress and matching headset that she wore to her first Senate session) but it is definitely close.
This one is a darker red, meant to compliment Padmé’s skin, but it shimmers in such a way that means that you can’t quite pin what color it really is. This was Rabé’s idea, and it was designed to become known as Padmé’s favorite dress. Because of how the fabric shifts, it means that it is harder to quite pin down the color of Padmé’s skin. This means easier transition to decoys, as well as an ability to hide if she spent a weekend on a Nabooian beach or hidden in an underground bunker. The square neck barely shows her collarbones, and the fitted nature of the torso (designed to appear made flattering for Padmé’s thin body) is smoothed out by the bulletproof corset built into the inside. The skirt flares around her hips, allowing freedom of movement in her lower body so she can run if needed, and drapes into a small train. The matching headdress is simpler than many that she wears, but it essentially locks her head into place, forcing excellent posture. Another defense against attack (it’s nearly impenetrable from the back), as well as against endless Senate meetings. “You can’t slouch if your dress won’t let you” is what Rabé had said.
Ignoring the side eyes she was getting from many other Senators, Padmé makes her way across the hall, closer to Aavi’s exit, in the hopes to find her. Nearly halfway there, she hears someone calling her name over the buzz of the crowd— a side effect of thousands of senators in a small space— and she has to nearly spin around to find Aavi walking towards her.
“Senator Ioka!” Padmé says, leaning forward in the mimed cheek-kiss they always exchange. Aavi takes her hand and leads her out of the hallway, both sets of attendants and guards falling back to the standard ‘respectful’ distance as they use the walking speed to arrange the finery of a Senate-appropriate outfit without tripping each other. Padmé is always jealous of the coats that Aavi wears, and how warm they look. Not to mention lighter.
“I appreciate you defending me today, Senator Amidala,” Aavi says carefully. There are ears everywhere. “And I’m sorry for dragging the session on for so much longer than planned, I’m sure that many others are quite cross with me for that,” She adds with a laugh.
“Oh, it’s my pleasure, I had just hoped to end another argument before it sprung up. You’re absolutely right, on all accounts, but there is only so much lecturing that can take place before people stop thinking with logic and start thinking with annoyance.” Padmé replies lightly.
“And with the Senate you can never tell which is which,” Aavi nods in agreement. “I know, I know. For someone who started after I did, you’ve always been better at this than me.”
“I wouldn’t phrase it as better, Senator. I doubt I will ever perfect the art of the glare of disapproval.”
“Ah, well, that just comes from having children. I’d hope you wait at least a little bit longer before learning that particular skill,” She looks off into the middle-distance, and Padmé is bracingly aware of the lines in her face. Aavi has children, Padmé knows this. She doesn’t talk about them, either. Padmé stops their procession towards the personal offices and puts a hand on Aavi’s arm.
“We appreciate your work here, Aavi. I’m sure that they will too, even if they can’t understand what you’re working for yet.”
“That’s actually part of what I hoped to speak with you about, I was wondering if you might have time tonight for a meeting with an old friend?”
“You could wake me up in the middle of winter hibernation and I’d have time for you, of course. Would you like to meet in my office, or yours?”
“I think yours is closer, and I know that I definitely would rather sit down sooner than later,”
Padmé nearly forgets her professional laugh at Aavi’s pinched expression as she rolls her shoulders. “I understand completely, follow me, Senator,”
Padmé opens the door to her office receiving room— left unlocked at all hours— and continues on to her personal meeting room— left unlocked exactly long enough to get the door opened and closed— directing Aavi inside and locking out both sets of guards and attendants.
“Can we speak freely here?” Aavi asks without pretense, nearly flopping onto a couch. Padmé nods, sitting down as well, and pulling her shoes off with her heels.
“I’ve had several Jedi and my personal security team check the room, it’s secure. The door is soundproofed and no one but myself knows the entry key. We could insult Palpatine from in here, and no one would ever be the wiser,” Padme reaches up to undo part of the stiff backing for her headdress, knowing she’ll have to ask Gregar or Aavi to fix it before walking the rest of the way home, but not bringing herself to care. Especially not as Aavi also shrugs out of her coat and pulls her gloves off as well.
“I’m thinking of resigning,” Aavi says, not meeting Padmé’s eyes. Internally, Padmé’s stomach rolls. The thought of anyone replacing Aavi, even in purely the political sense, makes her extremely concerned. She doesn’t show this, however, employing years of training and careful emotional management to keep her face even. She nods, encouraging Aavi to continue. “I miss my children, Padmé. That’s really all there is to it. I’ve been working ever since Ajii was born, and she’s nearly starting school. My other children don’t remember when I was home, and as much as my wife loves our children, she didn’t sign up to raise them on her own, you know?”
Padmé nods again, thinking on this. “This is why you’ve been pushing so much for the hyperspace lanes,” She says, not even a question. Aavi nods tiredly.
“I thought that maybe if I had a way to get home faster I could be there more often, but even if I got them to build the lane, it wouldn’t be completed for at least another year. I’m tired, and I’m not as young as I used to be, and I want to go home.”
Padmé sighs, nodding in agreement. “I understand, completely. I was waiting until I had more details, or more of a promise, at least, but I’ve been trying to work on getting permission and plans for the lane. If you were to resign, I would be willing to continue to push for it in your absence, with whoever your people choose to replace you. Regardless of a mother’s desire to be with her children, it is entirely unfair that the Senate expects someone at all the sessions while not giving Csilla any kind of travel assurances,”
“Thank you, Padmé,” Aavi says, trying to find the words, “I… I’d appreciate that, very much. I’ve discussed with some advisors at home, and we have picked out who my successor would be. She’s very young, and inexperienced, but I think she’ll learn quickly. I didn’t want to ask you, to put that pressure on you, but I’d appreciate if you’d…guide her, in the Senate. In politics. In all the things that you’re skilled at that she won’t understand yet.”
Padmé pauses, considering this for a moment. This would be… a big undertaking. She wants to do it, to help Aavi as a friend, and to help Csilla as an ally. Tutoring a new Senator is a big undertaking, though. It’s also proof of trust, of an alliance. For Aavi to ask as a friend for Padmé to watch over a young senator is one thing, but for Senator Ioka to ask as representative of Csilla, for Senator Amidala to train Csilla’s inexperienced and young new representative is entirely another. It would be a statement, and it would be significant. The gossip rings would go out of control with this. There’s already been enough commentary on Padmé apparently being in an affair with Aavi (much to the surprise of Aavi’s wife, as well as Anakin, Padmé, and Aavi. It was funny, admittedly) and if it got out that Padmé was doing this, they’d probably get worse.
But this… is a favor for a friend. And Padmé has far too few of those right now.
“What’s her name?”
“Her Chiss name is Inac’Irv’Errylu. Were she to proceed with plans to be my successor, she would take up her Core name— Cirve— and either Ioka, or Errylu as her Senate name. We’ve been weighing the benefits of having her become the third ‘Senator Ioka’ or forging a new path.” Aavi’s aunt had also been a senator, acting under her house name, Ioka, and Aavi hadn’t felt any reason to pick a name besides Ioka to act under. Another unfortunate bit of the xenophobia in the Senate that the Chiss don’t feel comfortable working under their given names, but there’s only so many swamp rats you can stomp in a day. “I figured that you would be able to give opinions on it, regardless of if you chose to guide her.”
Padmé nods, thinking. “I’d like to meet her before we decide what name she would use, because the name will be a statement.” She thinks back to picking the name Amidala. To discarding Naberrie like a shedded skin. By asking such a simple question, Aavi has accidentally involved Padmé in the situation by default. “How old is she?” The next question that comes to mind.
“She’s fifteen, in Csilla rotations. Making her about seventeen in standard rotations, I believe.”
“That young?”
“She’s always been older than her peers, but we consider most people adults after they turn ten and are accepted by their house, which she has been. Will it be an issue?”
“Legally, no. If she were to come, I’d highly advise a strong guard. Larger than yours, for certain. Even if she is as mature as you say, and isn’t as naive as people will expect, they will expect her to be young, and vulnerable. They’ll see her as an easy target.” Padmé’s mind is already racing, thinking of all her assassination attempts and how many times her decoys saved her life and wondering if she needs to set up this girl with decoys as well and how would we do that and is it even possible, really?
“Are you going to guide her, Padmé?” Aavi asks, almost hopefully. Padmé bites her lip, considering this.
“I want to meet her before I agree to anything. We have several weeks before the next mandatory session— how long does it take to get to Csilla and back?”
“If we have the right ozyly-esehembos— sky-walkers— less than four days. Less than that if we get lucky, but not longer than a week if we don’t.”
“I can spare two weeks to travel to meet her, but we’d need to move quickly. I’ll have to meet with my team to prepare, but the soonest I’d expect to leave would be three days from now,” Padmé intentionally ignores how upset Anakin is going to be about her traveling through half the unknown regions and to Csilla, let alone how annoyed Palpatine will be about it. “If you’re serious about this, Aavi, send word to have her begin preparing designs for a wardrobe and her political dissertation for her introductions.”
“I’ll contact her tonight,” Aavi stands, looking ever inch the determined Chiss Senator she is. Padmé slips her feet back into her shoes and stands as well. “Thank you— so much, Padmé.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll do what I can, but we have very little time and we need to be careful about this. Let it get around that you’re planning on taking a trip home, say something about a wedding or some kind of meeting you need to attend. I need to get there and back without anyone realizing that I was helping you prepare a new Senator, or—”
“Or you’ll get audited for biased consults by every side, yes. Regardless of how this goes, Thank you, Padmé. I’ve missed my family.”
“Don’t think you’re off the hook about that— I still need to meet this mysterious wife you keep mentioning,” Padmé teases, hand on the door. “Oh, can you help me with this strap?” She turns around, showing Aavi the snaps for the back of her headdress. Aavi makes quick work of the half-dozen of them, patting Padmé on the back and draping her own coat around her shoulders again.
Padmé opens the door, stepping back to let Aavi exit first. “Senator Ioka.”
“Thank you,” Aavi steps past her and back into the waiting room, all guards springing back to attention. “This was very insightful, Senator Amidala. I appreciate your insight. I’ll send you the records you requested later tonight or tomorrow, and they should have all the necessary details.”
“Don’t rush yourself too much, Senator. You’ll be of no use to anyone if you haven’t slept,” Padmé teases, locking the door behind them and gesturing to Gregar to hold the next one for both herself and Aavi.
Once in the hallway, Aavi turns and mock-kisses Padmé again, whispering another ‘thank you’, before turning with her attending and heading down the hall.
“Gregar,” Padmé says quietly, turning in the opposite direction towards her own rooms. “Would you please schedule a guard shift for outside my room tonight? And Threepio, send an urgent message to Rabé, telling her I need to call her tonight. Privately.”
She receives a ‘yes, ma’am,’ from Threepio and a ‘yes, sir,’ from Gregar, takes her datapad from Gregar’s hands, and begins planning before Aavi’s echoing footsteps have entirely disappeared from the corridor.