Yes, Mother

By Bobill

sabertoothmonkey@yahoo.com

Padmé Amidala Skywalker hated lima beans.  As a young child, her mother had to 
constantly chide her to eat her lima beans.  Even now, when she had reached 
adulthood, Padmé still detested the vegetable, and was adamant to keep as far 
away from it as possible.

She had managed this quite successfully, until one day, an inquisitive, 
overprotective handmaiden entered her life.

Dormé Ralané

Dormé was perhaps the most qualified handmaiden Padmé had ever known.  Brave, 
intelligent, and loyal, she was constantly efficient with her work.  Padmé and 
Dormé got along quite well most of the time.  In fact, the only time they 
disagreed was when it came to mealtimes, or more specifically, lima beans.

The first time Padmé tried to flush her lima beans down the toilet, Dormé had 
caught hold of Padmé's hand, and sat the Senator back down, refusing to leave 
until she had finished every single bean.  It was no surprise, then, that Padmé 
soon made a habit of escaping the woman's presence whenever lima beans were 
served, making sure that her handmaiden could not force her to eat the gross 
stuff.

After years of practice, Padmé head formulated a strategic plan.  She would 
finish everything except her lima beans, then send a message to herself, thus 
able to excuse herself from the table.  For the most part, she had succeeded.  

It wasn't until a fight with her husband, one that had speared her heart 
painfully, did Padmé find herself too week to bother to doge her friend's 
constant watch.

Now, she sat in her dining room, staring blankly at the lima beans before her.  
Picking up a fork, she dejectedly poked at it.  

A sigh echoed from behind her.  Padmé turned to find her handmaiden at the door, 
eyeing her anxiously.  Common sense told her to pick up and run, but the loss of 
Anakin had drained her greatly, and she no longer felt herself with the strength 
to even stand up, let alone run.

"Are you all right, Milady?"  Her handmaiden asked.

Padmé gave a small smile.  "I'm fine," she assured automatically, though she 
felt differently at the hollow pain in her heart.  The puke-green color of the 
vegetable didn't help either.  "Just lost my appetite," she commented, sickly.  
A sudden image of Anakin pacing in her room, ranting insults to the Jedi flashed 
to her mind, and Padmé turned away, unsuccessful at hiding the tears that 
trickled from her eyes.

Dormé frowned, her eyes etched with concern.  Approaching her mistress, she 
placed a hand on her friend's shoulder comfortingly.  "Anakin will return."

Padmé started.  She had never told anyone about the fight, not even Obi-Wan.  
She had especially taken care not to tell her constantly concerned handmaiden, 
in hopes to avoid another lecture on the fickle behavior of boys.  Padmé 
grimaced.

As if the other woman was reading her thoughts, the sides of the handmaiden's 
mouth curved into a smile, amused at the childish look that covered her 
mistress's face.  "My Lady, it's written all over you," she remarked with a 
slight chuckle.

A soft laugh escaped the lips of the grief-stricken senator.  "You know me so 
well," she remarked.  "It's as if you were my mother."

Dormé laughed.  "Eat your lima beans, then, little one," she teased.

Padmé smiled.  "Yes, mother," she answered, and lifting up her fork, she ate her 
lima beans.

FINIS