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Padmé was angry. She had been angry for a long time. In her youth, that had turned to passion, fighting for her province, then her planet, and finally the Republic. She'd fought to save her beloved homes, the definition stretching out to encompass the spin of the galaxy itself. She'd argued with Senators, argued with Chancellors, and had more than a few arguments with Jedi.
Her mind stumbled over that last word. She'd made friends among the Jedi, some of them very good friends. There'd been one moment, when she had been full of passion and fight that she had believed for a little while there might be more with one. But that had been a girl's foolish thought, not a Senator's measured decision. They both knew very well the rules of the Jedi Council would have forbidden such a coupling, and for many hard-learned reasons. He'd remained a good friend, and now her friend was lost with the rest of the Jedi.
This new Emperor sat in the same seat as he did when he was Chancellor, the same genial face she'd known all her life now giving orders to give himself complete control.
Padmé knew she could have changed this somehow. Even in hindsight, she couldn't see the step she'd taken in error. All she could do now was whatever she could to slow down the crawl of tyranny now, no matter how distasteful.
She checked her appearance in the mirror again. She still looked angry.
"You look beautiful," said Sabé. She came up behind her, fixing the lace of Padmé's veil.
"I don't want to look beautiful. I'd prefer to look so hideous that my intended takes one look at me and runs away from his part of the agreement."
"Do you think that's likely?" Sabé asked her question with careful moderation. She didn't think so but would allow Padmé to differ.
She considered what she knew about Commander Thrawn. His species was virtually unknown in the rest of the galaxy. He was a non-human in a military that was increasingly hostile to non-humans. That might explain his excessive loyalty to the regime controlling that military. He would not defy an order from his new Emperor.
"No."
"Here," Sabé said, and Padmé felt a sheathed knife placed into her hand, with a strap to attach it to her forearm. Not an elegant weapon, but an effective one. Sabé turned her shoulders, turning Padmé to face her. "I understand your fear. Take the knife. Use it if he tries to hurt you."
The word 'hurt' stumbled with a soft hesitation. Many cultures practiced arranged marriages. The custom had only passed out of fashion on Naboo thirty short years ago. Those born into good families knew mothers and grandmothers and aunts pushed into marriages with men they took as husbands for political purpose. Most of these new husbands were not unkind, realizing their own gain in status with a wife above them on the hierarchical ladder, but not all. Everyone had a whispered story in their family's past of an arranged marriage with a husband who was less than kind.
"Thank you." She took the knife and snapped the holster to her forearm. She doubted the need, but she appreciated the comfort.
Sabé led her outside of the changing room to where Padmé's father and mother waited.
"Are you sure about this, sweet one?" her mother asked, playing with the lace veil and undoing all of Sabé's work of minutes before. "We can talk to the Chancellor."
"Emperor, Mom. He's not the Chancellor now. It's fine."
Her father's eyes filled with moisture. "You look wonderful, Padmé. I've dreamed of this day for years. But I agree with your mother. We can ask him to cancel this."
She sighed. Her parents knew enough about the ongoing political turmoil to know they had no sway with Palpatine. The only kindness he would grant his own home planet was not to burn it to cinders under the cannons of his soldiers. She couldn't change his decree, and neither could they. She hugged them each in turn.
"It really is fine. This will bring a measure of stability to the galaxy."
They both looked at her, eyes full of love and sorrow. They knew. Palpatine may have said those words, but what he meant was that Padmé was the one being stabilized. Thrawn was the collar for the new leash with which their Emperor intended to hold her.
Her parents took her arms, walking her to the doors, which opened upon a flower-filled room. At the far end stood a man she'd met only briefly, his skin the color of the sea, and his eyes the color of human blood. Padmé had learned to smile at things she hated long ago. She did so now, allowing her parents to escort her to her betrothed.
The ceremony progressed as usual. She'd attended enough weddings that she knew the ins and outs without thinking about what to say and when to bow. Thrawn needed more prompting. When it was time for him to kiss her, he placed a dry kiss against her cheek. Padmé hid her shudder.
The celebrant, a dotty old man she'd known casually since she was a baby, said, "The new couple will now have some time alone to get to know each other before they join us for refreshments." He guided the guests out of the room. She heard her nieces chattering to each other happily. The dress was so pretty. The flowers were so fragrant. Pooja said she couldn't wait to marry, and then the door closed, and Padmé was alone with him.
He bowed, hands held behind himself formally. "My apologies."
"Apologies for what?"
"For this farce. For embroiling you in the Emperor's schemes. I know I am not the husband you would have. It appalls me that we meet this way. My mere existence in this part of the galaxy brought you into a situation you must despise, thus my first action to you as your husband is to disappoint and sadden you. I apologize, Padmé. You deserve a kinder fate."
Momentarily speechless, Padmé stared at him. She collected herself quickly. "No apology is necessary, Commander. I agreed to this marriage when the Emperor presented it to me." She allowed him a half smile. "You are not to blame for my decisions."
He tilted his head in acceptance. He remained in a stiff pose. Padmé sat on the bench that had been provided. "We should sit. This is meant to be our time to get to know one another after the wedding."
After a moment, he joined her. "I have a question. I will have many for you, and again, I apologize. I believe the phrase 'get to know someone' is often used as a euphemism for sexual activity. Is that expected now?"
She schooled her face. "No. You're correct that it's a euphemism but it is meant literally in this case." Some newly-married couples did take the opportunity. Ryoo was born thanks to the period of alone time Sola and Darred had shared minutes after their wedding. She would walk over hot knives before telling Thrawn that.
"I see. Then we shall get to know one another. I have read the records of your career. Why don't you tell me more?"
"There's not much to tell that you haven't read. I've been in public service most of my life. My life holds no secrets." Except for the secret meetings she'd started to take with the like-minded Senators from Alderaan and Chandrila. He could never know about those, either.
"I do not know your favorite color. If I would like to give you a gift as a token of affection, knowing that would make it easier to select something appropriate."
"Red," she said.
"I should make a note. Naboo rituals typically involve gifts of flowers and fruits, do they not?"
"You don't need to bother. I'd prefer not to pretend this is a romantic marriage."
"I understand. You would have preferred a human mate."
"It isn't that. I'd have preferred to choose my own."
"As would I," he said. "But this was the wish of the Emperor and we serve the Empire."
You might, she thought. Padmé would serve the Republic. "Yes," she said out loud. She didn't ask if there had been someone else he would have married, given the choice. That choice was past. They had each other now, for better or for worse. The celebrant had told them so. "What's your favorite color?"
"There is a shade of purple on a flower from my homeworld. The blossom only blooms at sunset, but the color is breathtaking." If he were human, she would think she heard a touch of longing in his words. He was not, and his species was unknown to her. She would have to learn everything about his tone, his movements, and the thoughts he did not intend to express yet gave away on his face.
"Tell me about your homeworld."
"Not yet." He watched her with his strange eyes. "I would prefer you get to know the person I am before you set me against my fellow Chiss."
Interesting, she thought. He was unfailingly polite in his deflection. She knew this marriage was a means for Palpatine to watch her. She wondered if he intended for Padmé to watch Thrawn in kind.
"What are your interests?" he asked her, and she laughed. He frowned. "Did I say something amusing?"
"Sorry, no," she said. "You sound like you're interviewing me for a new job. You've read my resumé. You're asking about my interests. Sadly, I must inform you that I have already accepted the position and will not be resigning."
For a moment she thought she read a flash of anger behind his eyes, but his gaze softened before she could be sure. "My apologies."
"Please stop apologizing, Commander." Padmé rubbed her forehead. "I don't even know what to call you. Your name is Mitth'raw'nuruodo?"
"That was a very good pronunciation. I'm impressed. 'Thrawn' is acceptable. Do you prefer to go by Padmé or by Amidala? You have used both, I believe."
"Padmé, please."
"Padmé." He tested her name properly, lingering on the vowels as though examining each one with his palate. "Tell me, Padmé, what do you do when you are not working yourself to the bone for the good of..." He was about to say 'the Republic,' she thought, and instead he finished, "society?"
"All things should be to the good of society," she recited in the same voice she'd used when she was twelve. "I don't have a lot of time to myself," she added in a far less formal tone. "There's a new Lasmiri opera opening on Coruscant next rotation that I intend to see if I can break away from work. The composer is an old friend of mine."
"I should be happy to accompany you if I am not deployed elsewhere." His expression was kind, if a touch pained. Lasmiri opera was an acquired taste, and like most people, it appeared her new husband had not seen the point in acquiring it. Padmé sighed inside. Thrawn was less boorish than many other soldiers Palpatine could have married her off to, but she would have to accept that he was going to be most interested in military matters.
She hid her disappointment with a smile. "Thank you. We'll call it a date."
"Ah yes, courtship." He looked around the room, his eyes passing over the blossoms everywhere. The day was warm and lovely, sending a fragrant breeze through the high windows of the room. "We should arrange several of these 'dates' in order to get to know one another. In the literal sense of the phrase, of course," he said, seeing the quick dart of her eyes. She hoped he didn't see her adjust the weight of the sheath on her arm. "Understand that I don't intend to engage in activities you do not want. That would be unforgivably rude. Please think better of me than that." His expression remained stiff, and she could not read his face to know if he was offended.
"Of course." She allowed herself to relax. Thrawn might be Palpatine's man, but she believed him when he said he didn't intend her harm. He was trapped in the same situation she was, and while she had the illusion of safety with her family, he was alone among people who distrusted him for his species and doing what he could to abide by customs he had not been raised to. She could offer him kindness.
Padmé said, "Let's not make the opera our first date. Have you had a chance to view Naboo's Royal Art Museum? It has some amazing pieces." She expected him to give her the same vague expression of dread he'd given her at the thought of opera. Instead, and to her surprise, his face grew animated. For the first time since she'd met him two weeks ago, during a meeting on Coruscant to sign the formal contract in front of the Emperor, Thrawn looked pleased.
"I have not had that opportunity. I would enjoy visiting the museum with you. I've read that you have all the extant pieces from Joru'al on display here. I've only seen them in holographic form." His hands reached into the air, as if tracing out the lines on a canvas. "The techniques they used have never been replicated in any other culture save in pastiche of the originals."
"Several of the oldest paintings were removed from the public displays due to their age and fragility. They're kept in the palace under controlled conditions." She noticed his disappointment. "Fortunately, as the former Queen, I have full access to the room if you'd like to see those pieces. The use of imagery is fascinating."
Honest delight passed over his face. "Could we go this evening after the festivities are complete?"
Walking through a private art gallery was hardly how Padmé had expected to spend her wedding night, but this was the first topic that had cracked Thrawn's formal shell. If she was going to make a good partnership with him, the first step was finding out who he was when he wasn't bowing his neck to the Emperor. Besides, the paintings were lovely and she hadn't made time to see them in too long. "I'd like that."
The door opened. "Padmé?" Sola called, not coming inside. "Are you decent?"
"You can come in, Sola," she said, and saw the teasing look on her sister's face. "Some of us know how to behave after our weddings."
Sola grinned. "Yes, and your niece is a wonderful girl." Her eyes went to Thrawn. She had not practiced schooling her expressions the way Padmé did, and a faint look of concern passed over her eyes. She'd forgotten for a moment, or she'd let herself forget, that this match was not one Padmé had chosen for herself. "Are you ready to meet everyone?" she asked, while her eyes asked Padmé if she was all right.
"Everything is fine," she said. She took Thrawn's hand as she stood.
She'd expected him to have cool skin, but the palm pressing against hers was warm like a stone baking in the hot sun. His eyes still sparkled with anticipation, not of their wedding reception, but of going with her to see ten thousand year old paintings. She shifted their hold, taking his arm in hers, imagining how they must look together, her in her lace and him in his uniform. She'd had so little time to date in her younger days. Now she wondered, had they met at an art gallery a year ago, would she have been charmed by his manners? Thrawn was handsome in his own way, she thought, if strange. Had they not been thrown together this way, she thought that perhaps, she would have chatted with him in front of a painting, admiring the work together.
As they walked into the reception and were greeted by her family and friends as well as a handful of his colleagues, she noticed he fell back into the rigidly polite manner she'd first seen. For now, her new husband would play the part of loyal commander, and she would play the role of a newly-married Senator, both offering careful smiles as her family doted on her with veiled worry. Tonight, they would go to the palace together, and Padmé would show him the Joru'al paintings, and she would see who he was under his mask of perfect obedience.
His hand was warm in hers. For a moment, as they looked at one another, she saw that mask slip. Someone else looked out, someone more intelligent and tender than the Emperor's servant. She wondered what else she would find when she peeled away that disguise tonight. Her pulse jumped against his as he kissed the back of her knuckle. For the first time in a very long time, hope warmed her heart as she gave him a genuine smile.