Saga Decoy [Response to the Dark Padmé challenge]

Title: Decoy
Timeframe: Mostly between TPM and AOTC
Genre: AU
Characters: Padmé, original and canon handmaidens


Author's Note: This was written for the Dark Padmé challenge at the Warrior Queen, Gentle Lady thread. As for whether or not Padmé is actually evil here (and evil can be such a slippery term)--I will let the readers figure it out for themselves.

Those who know my obsessions will not be at all surprised by this one. Of course, I just had to include the handmaidens. Some of the handmaiden names are from lindemacil's "In Milady's Service." Credit where it's due.


*


Decoy


The girl's face had just been finished and powdered white. She stared straight ahead, her eyes glass blank and patient, while one of the other handmaidens leaned in close to paint the two round, and yes, perfect red dots on her cheeks. The girl was so quiet, she didn't seem to breathe. She was sitting on a low, velvet plumped up stool, with her hands dropped in her lap. Of course, Padmé had selected the gown the girl would wear. That (she thought) she would be thought to wear. It was lying behind them on the bed. The skirts were spread out, velvet dark and soft as a nightmare.

The golden shoes that went along with it, with their ruby dove's eyes buckles, were lined up side by side and waiting several feet away.

The girl looked up.

Jollé looked up, and smiled, perhaps a bit too nervous and teeth bared. Well, of course she was nervous. That was understandable.

Padmé nodded, though she decided not to actually smile, or let her mouth twitch up, with approval. But she did approve, and these girls, her handmaidens, her loyal bodyguards, would know that. She looked over at Jollé, but she might have been seeing her reflection in the mirror. That was her white doll skinned face, with the just wounded remembering scar in the middle of her lower lip. Jollé had become her.

Or, she almost had.

Of course, Jollé didn't really look enough like Padmé to be her twin, or her clone. Not when you looked up close at her. She was perhaps two or so inches taller than Padmé, and her mouth was more plush. Like an overripe rose, Padmé might have thought if she were more whimsical, or perhaps even poetical.

It wouldn't matter. It never did.

Jollé had been the royal decoy for perhaps three years now. Padmé wasn't certain, and it wasn't important enough to remember. She was a good girl, a loyal girl, a dutiful daughter of Naboo, but then, so were the others. There had been Sabé, and after her, for almost one year, Berné. Padmé didn't care to think about her.

No, not Berné.

But she did her duty, Padmé told herself, almost sternly. There was no reason to think about it, and her, and she wouldn't. She looked over at the bed, her bed, where Saché and Noré were helping Jollé into that gown. Padmé shrugged, and sat down on the stool, and picked up a drink that one of the handmaidens had left out for her. Really, Saché was a wonder with hair, almost as good as one of her previous handmaidens, Rabé. Tonight, Jollé's life wouldn't be in danger. No, Padmé's life wouldn't be in danger. It was a routine decoy switch, with Jollé taking her place at the theatre box with Governor Bibble and Lady Hela Brandes. Jollé wouldn't die in her place, not this time. Like Berné had.

Berné, who had died when the royal speeder, in which she, Padmé, was believed to be riding, crashed in an explosion that wasn't an accident, en route to an event at the Duke of Kaadara’s mansion perhaps three years before. Captain Panaka suspected that the Trade Federation was behind it, but there had never been enough evidence to prove it. Several guards, as well as another handmaiden, Maré, had died with her.

"Jollé?" said Padmé.

"I'm ready, Your Highness," she said, in her meek, kissing sweet voice. She may have looked like Padmé, like Queen Amidala, but she remembered who she was. She stepped forward, and there was a golden, sunlight flash off those shoes, before the skirts, Padmé's skirts, swept across them like a theatre curtain.

"Good," said Padmé, using the distant, untouchable, and regal voice. The other handmaidens' robes fluttered and swayed, but she didn’t look at them. Only at Jollé. Only at the decoy. "You do realize how important this is, Jollé." (It was always polite, and considerate, she reminded herself, to address them by name. Not that she needed to.) "It is imperative that I make an appearance at the theatre tonight. Governor Bibble mustn't ever suspect that you're playing my part."

Of course, it wasn't that important.

(It wasn't a life or death matter, Padmé no longer thought.)

"Of course, Your Highness," said Jollé's voice.

She did not say, nor did she have to: He's never suspected all those other times. None of them have. Why would tonight be any different?

The girl looked back at her with such wide, sweetheart brown eyes. Earnest, and loving. And unquestioning. She would do whatever Padmé asked of her. Padmé knew that she shouldn't realize that, but she did. Padmé decided to smile at her, mostly a slight twitch of her mouth, but that would be enough. It always was.

---

Jollé died a year later, when she was shot in the back two times by a sniper. It had happened when the Queen was having a tour of the just opened gardens at the University of Theed. No one had seen it coming, though Captain Panaka had suspected something might happen. She was left lying where she had fallen down in the grass, glass eyed and dead, in Queen Amidala’s bloody dark red gown, while the guards rushed to secure the area. This time, Padmé was there, with the other handmaidens in their warning flame gowns. They watched her (of course) as they stayed back. The guards' footsteps pounded past, and then away, as they hurried to corner the shooter.

"Are you all right, Milady?" said Saché.

"Yes," Padmé said, and her voice sounded fluttering and paper butterfly thin. Well, she had just seen her decoy die. "I’m fine."

"That’s all that matters," said Zaré.

"Jollé did her duty, Your Highness," said Saché. "She would have wanted nothing more than to take the death that was meant for you. We all feel the same way."

One of the guards shouted out nearby, and Padmé glanced over at Zaré and Noré, to let them know they should go out and see for her what had happened. They understood, and walked off in their whisper quiet white shoes. Saché would stay back with her, where it might not be safe, but it was safer than breaking cover. Soon, Zaré would return to tell Padmé that the sniper had been caught, and was being taken into protective custody. Padmé would nod, and look wise. Of course, he would have to be kept locked up for his own protection. When the people heard, as they would, what he had tried to do. To murder Amidala, their beloved Queen—

Sometimes, the Naboo weren't as peaceful as their reputation.

No one knew that better than she.

"Your Highness," said one of the guards. She didn't remember his name. "We need to leave. Now. We have the shooter, but the area still might not be safe."

Padmé nodded. She let Saché and Zaré coo over her as they walked away behind several guards. None of them looked back at Jollé. If they had, they would have seen the red embroidery thread of blood slipping loose from her mouth, and the way her fingernails were just slightly broken. Or the way her eyes were trapped looking up at the sky.

---

Padmé had always been the favorite. First, she had been her parents' little darling. Her father had especially doted on her. She couldn't really remember that time, but she knew it was so. Then, when she was perhaps four or so, her grandmother, her father’s mother Winama, had chosen her as her special pet. Winama, with her doll glass blue eyes and dyed black hair and cigaret rasping voice and bear dark fur coat. Winama, the failed politician. Even though she lived in a modest cottage outside Theed on her very late husband’s pension, she still knew people. Or as she would have told Padmé’s mother in their parlour, I haven't been forgotten yet.

During that visit, Winama had lavished attention and interest on Padmé. She had told her that she was very intelligent, and unusually so. That she was different from the other children she knew in the homely, yet peaceful, and sunshine bright village of Padmé's vague, and mostly ignored, memories. That she was special.

Her elder sister, Sola, was not.

Padmé seldom thought of Sola, and only saw her several times a year. Since, after Winama formally took her into her household as her protégé, they hadn't grown up together, her sister remained a tall, gawky plain woman who she didn't quite know. Sola had gone on to University, and finished her degree there, but she only used it to get married and have those two sweet little girls, who, admittedly, adored their Aunt Padmé.

Just as the handmaidens assigned to her when she became Queen Amidala had. Padmé never admitted it to herself, but she knew how to be admired. She liked it. Even Sola, who had every reason to resent Padmé, to even hate the younger sister who had always had her birthright, admired her fervently. But then, she had never been special.

She’s a common girl, Winama had said once, in a tone that Padmé would soon know and imitate very well. And utterly, utterly dull. She'll get married, have a few fat babies, and then die. You are meant to be something else entirely.

---

Several weeks after Jollé died, Padmé saw a tall, slinking thin girl she thought she recognized during a reception at the palace. The girl was wearing a black dress with most of her arms and shoulders bare, and a string of sleep white pearls. Padmé wondered who she could be, while she smiled and made nice with the endless line of dignitaries, and little girls earnestly hoping and studying up to become the Princess of Theed. Governor Bibble was standing next to her, hahaing with one of his political cronies, who also liked to fancy himself somewhat of a philosopher. The girl walked past, and then she was meeting up with someone Padmé did know.

It was Rabé. Padmé hadn't seen or spoken to her since she had left her service, the Queen's service, over four years before. Really, she never thought or wondered about any of her former handmaidens, once they had gone on to something else. Now, she was certain she had heard, in passing, that Rabé went on to study psychology at the University at Theed, and that she was currently teaching there, done with politics.

And Rabé looked good (even if, said Winama's voice in Padmé's head, she has those large ears. Well, the poor girl can’t help that). She was sipping slowly at a glass of pale yellow apple wine, and listening to the other girl. Woman. She was making dramatic hand gestures to go along with her story, whatever it was. Padmé couldn't hear what they were talking about over the string quartet playing in the background, but she finally, and suddenly, knew who the other girl was.

Sabé.

Sabé, who had been her first decoy. The girl who looked like her image in the mirror, always. She had been ready to die for her, oh Padmé remembered now, at the Battle of Naboo, though she hadn't. She had left service only two years later, when she had suddenly grown up tall and gawky lanky. (Like Sola.) And really, Padmé hadn't thought or heard of her for years, but here she was. She didn't look anything like Padmé, or her reflection, not anymore. No wonder Padmé hadn't recognized her.

---

And?

Padmé could hear Winama’s voice sing-songing in her head, as Zaré rushed, silent and whisper shadow dark in her robes, to fetch her a glass of starfruit wine, and the Princess of Theed, that simpering little Ellie, spoke earnestly with Lady Brandes. You don't need her anymore. So why should you remember her? It is, of course, your prerogative. But trust me, when she hears that a decoy has given her life so that you may live, she will wish that it was she. She will wish she could have made that ultimate sacrifice for her Queen. Her sad, pathetic little life.

---

Later, Cordé would die when Senator Amidala’s royal starship was bombed, shortly after their arrival on Coruscant. Of course, Padmé would be safe, since she would be flying in one of the attending fighters. Five guards, and Versé, another handmaiden, would also die in the blast. During the Clone Wars, Dormé and Lissé would both die when assassins hired by the Trade Federation made attempts on Padmé's life. Dormé would be poisoned when she played Senator Amidala on Coruscant, while Padmé went off and back to Naboo, hiding with her Jedi protector. The poison was strong, but it did not kill quickly or easily. The Senator, or rather, Dormé, would suffer before she died—

---

But that was their duty.

(Cordé knew that. During that last, endless moment of her life, when she looked only at Padmé, her eyes dream and blast dazed, and Milady, I'm so sorry, she said. I've failed you, Senator. Padmé knew that she hadn't failed, and that she couldn't be responsible for the blast, for the assassin's cleverly timed and hidden away bomb, or for Padmé's decision to come out into the open where it might not be safe. But she understood, later, why she apologized. People tended to do that with her, because it had to be their fault. It wasn't Amidala's fault. Padmé's fault. Even then, Cordé knew that. Never thinking of herself. Dormé was the same way. They all were.)

---

Padmé met Jollé's parents for the first and only time when she stopped by, graciously and understanding, for five minutes at her funeral. They were nice, educated, upper middle class Naboo. The father was a businessman in Theed, and the mother was a dumpy plain housewife with tear pale blue eyes, who picked at her mourning cloak. They were too well-bred and behaved to cry. Of course, they had gushed and fawned over their Queen, but Padmé had expected that. She smiled (graciously), while the father rushed to get her a glass of wine, or perhaps a glass of water.

The other mourners watched and whispered, equally awed. (Queen Amidala is here! Imagine that.) Of course, Jollé's parents knew very little, if anything, about the circumstances of their daughter's death. They had only been given the same phrase, the same finger wagging consolation that all the decoys' families would receive: Your daughter has died in the line of duty, serving her Queen and the sovereignty of Naboo.

(Were some of the people there her former handmaidens? Padmé didn’t know, and didn’t care. Though later, she would think she had seen Sabé. She had stood off to the side, with a sad, even regretful smile. But she had smiled. And Rabé. Or perhaps shy Yané, and clever, sly Eirtaé.)

"We are so honored at your presence, Your Highness," said the mother.

"Thank you," Padmé said in her cold, far away voice.

Good girl, whispered Winama in her head.

The father came back, and Padmé accepted the glass of water she had asked for instead of wine. They had nodded, almost smug with approval. Padmé managed not to sigh, as she sipped slowly and primly at her water. Saché’s cloak rustled close behind her. Jollé’s parents looked at her as though they were seeing their daughter, or reminded of her. The father cleared his throat, and Padmé knew that wasn’t so. They only saw her. They saw their Queen, the woman their daughter had died for.

"Your Highness," he said. Padmé looked up at him, and waited, with a cold, remote, and always, regal smile. "My wife and I want to apologize for what you've gone through after Jollé's death. It must be so difficult. We are so, so sorry--"


*

 

Very interesting! You have a Padmé who is detatched from the deaths that these young women go so willingly towards. To have someone ready to die for you -- what an invitation for egotistical power! And that smoky grandmother's voice whispering in her ear the whole time that Padmé deserves this because she's better than everyone else.

They say the opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference. Padmé is indifferent to these deaths, ultimately, and she's mastering the art of insincere sincerity. Hmm. Worrisome.


Good job!

 

Evil? Uh... Maybe not evil, but self-serving for certain. A Chilling viggie, one that gave me the creeps.

Very interesting take on the Dark!Padmé idea. Not evil, but not good... maybe malevolent is a better word for her in this...

Nice Vig

 

Whoa! Chilling, the way Padme seemed so indifferent to the deaths of the women who had given their very lives to protect her. And Winama! Filling her heads with all those ideas of superiority. You know, this fic makes it easy to see how sometimes people in power end up with this sense of entitlement - surrounded by people catering to their every whim, willing to die for them, telling them how much better they are than others, etc. What really saddened me was the way Padme was so uncaring at the funeral.

Well done!

 

Wow! Really nicely done, as usual. I agree that her detachment really did fulfill the role here in a way that we didn't think of in the discussion. It fits the Star Wars context. Her history being what it is, Padme really has been the center of everyone's attention, and I can definently see it playing out this way, behind the scenes. I really like the way you played with a personality trait that can so easily be hidden.

 

Thank you so much for the PM.
I hate to miss any thing you write!

Where do I begin? This has all of your usual fabulousness!

Now, that's a dress:
The skirts were spread out, velvet dark and soft as a nightmare.

This is one of those instances where in just a simple statement you give us volumes of character development.
?You do realize how important this is, Jollé.? (It was always polite, and considerate, she reminded herself, to address them by name. Not that she needed to.)

BRAVO!!! This is was a beautiful description of a less-than-beautiful thing.
Padmé nodded. She let Saché and Zaré coo over her as they walked away behind several guards. None of them looked back at Jollé. If they had, they would have seen the red embroidery thread of blood slipping loose from her mouth, and the way her fingernails were just slightly broken. Or the way her eyes were trapped looking up at the sky.

Wow. Two in one story! This is another one of those passages where you go above and beyond in the life you breath into these characters. Padmé's not evil. Ha! She's human--albeit snotty, but human nontheless...I think I went to high school with this Padmé.
Sola had gone on to University, and finished her degree there, but she only used it to get married and have those two sweet little girls, who, admittedly, adored their Aunt Padmé.

Oh that little detail there:
Padmé met Jollé?s parents for the first and only time when she stopped by, graciously and understanding, for five minutes at her funeral.

Egads the ending gave me chills!
Wow! I love that feeling!
Good girl, whispered Winama in her head.


Brilliantly, beautifully, masterfully written.
I love to gush over your work!!!

Just wow.

 

divapilot: Padmé has been able to take her handmaidens, and their loyalty, for granted. She knows they will do anything for her, including dying in her place. And yes, that grandmother really did a number on her. And being Queen hasn't helped a bit.

They say the opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference. Padmé is indifferent to these deaths, ultimately, and she's mastering the art of insincere sincerity.

Hmm. That's a good point. Ultimately, though, I think Padmé can still feel something for her decoys, but she won't let herself. It's easier, far easier, for her to just forget.

Jade_Max: I agree that she's not really evil. I'm not always sure just what she *is*, but you're right, whatever it is, it's not good.

Gina: You know, this fic makes it easy to see how sometimes people in power end up with this sense of entitlement - surrounded by people catering to their every whim, willing to die for them, telling them how much better they are than others, etc.

That's very true.

The thing is, the movies are pretty clear that Padmé *is* better than everyone else, and she's surrounded by characters who, mostly, believe that. Yet, she doesn't seem to have fallen for her own public image. There must have been influences in her life, such as her family, to keep her grounded. And there's that line in AOTC when she tells Anakin that sometimes our mentors see more of our flaws than we'd like. What I did in this fic was, basically, take those influences away.

What really saddened me was the way Padme was so uncaring at the funeral.

Yes, that is sad. The part that really gets me in that scene is that Jollé's parents apologized to Padmé. Their daughter has just *died* and they apologize to her. Like their feelings, their pain, don't matter.

bobilll: Her history being what it is, Padme really has been the center of everyone's attention, and I can definently see it playing out this way, behind the scenes.

You're correct--this could have so easily happened, behind the scenes where the general public couldn't see. As I said in my comment to Gina, Padmé has been treated as different, and better, than everyone else for a long time. In this fic, she believes it too.

oqidaun: Yes, Padmé is very human here. I also don't think she's evil, but I was curious to see what readers would think. So far, we seem to be in agreement. She is snotty, and self-absorbed, because she's never had her worldview challenged, but those are very human traits indeed.

BRAVO!!! This is was a beautiful description of a less-than-beautiful thing.

Thanks! It's interesting how language can be used to make something look beautiful, even if it's not. But it's the least I could do for poor Jollé.

Egads the ending gave me chills!
Wow! I love that feeling!

Glad to be of service.

 

I really think the "All Shall Love Me And Despair" title would be more appropriate for this Dark Padmé. And she is Dark. Like [someone] said earlier, the opposite of love is not hate but indifference. If the definition of evil is complete selfishness and isolation, a sense of utter entitlement, and the belief that others exist only to serve you, then yes, this Padmé is Dark. I really like the way you placed it in GFFA context. By just changing a few parameters in her upbringing (reducing her family to just a distorted ambitious grandmother, and making the handmaidens fawning, spineless creatures), you created a scenario where a Dark Queen could live and thrive. Lovely!



On the down side though - you missed one of the two conditions for the story - the word "prerogative" was not used. Other than that, this was a wonderful contribution to the challenge. Thanks so much for writing this.

 

leia_naberrie: Yes, I was really tempted to call this "All Shall Love Me and Despair," and it would have worked. I wound up keeping the title it has for various reasons. Mostly, I saw this story as the dark, distorted mirror of another possible story, also called "Decoy," in which the same events are shown, but very differently. But I can always change it, at some point in the future.

I did say earlier that I don't think Padmé is evil, per se, in this story. But she is dark, and she does believe, without having to even really think it, that others exist to serve her, and she deserves it. But like many "dark" people, I don't think this Padmé realizes what she is.

By just changing a few parameters in her upbringing (reducing her family to just a distorted ambitious grandmother, and making the handmaidens fawning, spineless creatures), you created a scenario where a Dark Queen could live and thrive.

That's a good point.

It's obvious, of course, what the grandmother's part is, but it's easier to overlook the fact that the handmaidens are, well, total enablers. Like you said, they are fawning, spineless creatures, who reaffirm Padmé's warped self-image at every step. Somehow, I find their lack of concern for Jollé, their fallen comrade, much colder than Padmé's reaction. You don't expect anything better from her, but you would think they'd care.

The thing is, I'm not sure that they could challenge Padmé or call her on her ****. They are not, obviously, her equals, and I somehow suspect that a handmaiden who questioned this Padmé wouldn't be staying in her service for very long.

--

On the down side though - you missed one of the two conditions for the story - the word "prerogative" was not used.

Actually, it is in there. I admit that I missed that bit when I first posted, but I edited both words in. Here's the relevant passage, with the word "prerogative" bolded:

Padmé could hear Winama's voice sing-songing in her head, as Zaré rushed, silent and whisper shadow dark in her robes, to fetch her a glass of starfruit wine, and the Princess of Theed, that simpering little Ellie, spoke earnestly with Lady Brandes. You don't need her anymore. So why should you remember her? It is, of course, your prerogative. But trust me, when she hears that a decoy has given her life so that you may live, she will wish that it was she. She will wish she could have made that ultimate sacrifice for her Queen. Her sad, pathetic little life.

 

Wow...that was a chilly story. Not an evil Padme, but certainly a dark one. One detatched from everyone.

 

OOOHHHH very chilling.

Padme had absolutely no emotion for her handmaidens as they paid the ultimate price.

How very sad.

Great job on this

 

This is such a subtle piece, Pandora26!

I really, really like it!

Like all good writers, you show us the character you've crafted and then us decide what to make of her. Your prose is chillingly matter of fact and perfect for the tone of this story.


There is no doubt in my mind that this young woman is effected and numbed by what has transpired. So many deaths for her.

The last lines were the real clinchers for me!


?Your Highness,? he said. Padmé looked up at him, and waited, with a cold, remote, and always, regal smile. ?My wife and I want to apologize for what you?ve gone through after Jollé?s death. It must be so difficult. We are so, so sorry--?

Apologizing for their own daughter's death! That's chilling!

Great vig!

 

Lady_Eirtae: Thanks!

KELIA: I think Padmé could feel something for her handmaidens, but deep down, she has chosen not to. Because it's easier that way.

rocketscientist: There is no doubt in my mind that this young woman is effected and numbed by what has transpired. So many deaths for her.

I agree.

Padmé comes across as emotionless, but it is, as I mentioned to KELIA, a conscious choice on her part. She has to make herself, over and over, not think about her handmaidens, the decoys who died in her place. She is numbed, but I don't think she knows it.

I'm glad the last lines worked for you. They're one of the most upsetting bits of the story for me, and it's good to see they're working.

 

This is a wonderful story. Padme is so cold here.

Creepingly cold. I loved how you wrote her grandmother as the one who's behind all this... putting a seed of importance in her.

I think Padme still cares for her handmaidens, but she tries not to by shutting herself up. Really wonderful portrayal.

 

Wow, I have never seen Padmé like this before, it was chilling yet a very well done challenge response. Amazing job Pandora.

 

She is so detached. She belives that she is better and that she is most important and her handmaidens are just idiots that don't matter. To me, she is evil.

 

Healer_Leona: I can't quite decide if Padmé is numb from the many deaths of her handmaidens or just cold..

I can understand that.

I'm not always quite sure what to make of Padmé myself. She does lack compassion--but then, I think she consciously chooses to do so. In a way, I think she's both numb, and cold.

musingmiyu: Yes, Padmé is very cold here. It occurred to me that while, because of her position, she was isolated from everyone else in the movies, in this story she has isolated herself more and further than anyone else ever could.

I think Padme still cares for her handmaidens, but she tries not to by shutting herself up. Really wonderful portrayal.

Good point. I don't think, now that I'm reflecting on it, that she is beyond hope. She could change--but it would take something, or someone, to shake up her worldview, and alas, there doesn't seem to be any chance of that happening.

Star_Angel: Yes, Padmé is very different here, but I do think that, under certain conditions, this is what she might have become. Glad you enjoyed it!

Handmaiden_Azul: She is so detached. She believes that she is better and that she is most important and her handmaidens are just idiots that don't matter. To me, she is evil.

That's an understandable response. Let's just say that she's not someone I would want to have over for dinner. And if she's guarding your back--well, you're in trouble.