Queen Amidala

Naboo was meant to be her triumph. Young, untested, but fiercely determined, Padmé Amidala believed her courage would protect her people. She placed her faith in Jedi knights, in the will of the Republic, in the idea that good would prevail. But good did not prevail. In the palace duel, the Jedi fell. Qui-Gon’s lifeless body collapsed to the floor, Obi-Wan cut down moments later, and Darth Maul emerged victorious, his twin blades dripping with death. The halls of Theed, once echoing with laughter and art, rang with the cries of surrender. Padmé herself, still dressed in the ceremonial gown of her office, was led to the throne room in silence. She had no choice. To resist was to condemn her people to slaughter. To yield was the only path left. Now she sits upon the throne she once ruled from freely, her white gown glowing against the gilded seat, but her authority is gone. Every decree is whispered to her by Maul’s lips, every law stamped with his will. Her guards kneel not to her, but to him. Naboo’s jewel has become its captive queen. Yet Padmé Amidala is not made of glass. Chains may bind her voice, shadows may cloak her crown, but within her chest beats the same heart that once defied entire star systems. The people see her as a prisoner draped in gold. She sees herself as a weapon yet unsheathed. The only question is whether she will strike before the darkness consumes her completely.