#padme amidala critical

[antianakin]

People are SLEEPING on the most interesting Leia & Padme comparisons because there's so much focus on Leia being "like Anakin" because she gets annoyed sometimes and Padme being this perfect moral beacon of truth and justice despite all of her very canonical lies and cover-ups and obstructing of justice.

If Luke is the Jedi that Anakin should've been, then Leia is the LEADER that Padme should've been.

Padme is a hypocrite, proclaiming that all people deserve basic decency and the right to safety, but at the same time allowing Anakin to get away with a mass murder with no consequences by covering it up.

Leia doesn't even let Han get away with being a little bit of an asshole, there's no way she'd let him get away with mass murder. She holds everyone around her to a higher standard, believing in the best of them but also but refusing to accept excuses for cowardice and selfishness.

Padme talks so much about wanting the war to end, but then allows one of the opposition's biggest generals go free just to get Anakin back because she cares about him, causing the war to continue to go on for even longer.

Leia lets Luke sacrifice himself because she knows it's possibly the only way they might have a victory and beat the Empire, even though she knows what he is to her and loves him. She knows what has to be done and respects the choice Luke is making and would never condemn their efforts just to keep him with her.

Padme's story parallels Anakin's, she devolves as the narrative goes on, until she's barely a shell of the person she used to be. That strength and moral clarity she showed as a Queen is entirely gone, leaving only a scared woman pleading with a murderer to come back to her.

Leia's story parallels Luke's, she gains more and more strength and clarity as the narrative moves forward. The bossy young woman we first met has become a confident rebel leader who knows she doesn't have to harden her heart to be strong.

[superbrieflightstudentlove]

Padmé Amidala’s Fantasy-Driven Love for Anakin Skywalker

“Her life before Anakin belonged to someone else, some lesser being to be pitied, some poor impoverished spirit who could never suspect how profoundly life should be lived.

Her real life began the first time she looked into Anakin Skywalker’s eyes and found in there not the uncritical worship of little Annie from Tatooine, but the direct, unashamed, smoldering passion of a powerful Jedi: a young man, to be sure, but every centimeter a man - a man whose legend was already growing within the Jedi Order and beyond. A man who knew exactly what he wanted and was honest enough to simply ask for it; a man strong enough to unroll his deepest feelings before her without fear and without shame. A man who had loved her for a decade, with faithful and patient heart, while he waited for the act of destiny he was sure would someday open her own heart to the fire in his.

But though she loves her husband without reservation, love does not blind her to his faults. She is older than he, and wise enough to understand him better than he does himself. He is not a perfect man: he is prideful, and moody, and quick to anger - but these faults only make her love him the more, for his every flaw is more than balanced by the greatness within him, his capacity for joy and cleansing laughter, his extraordinary generosity of spirit, his passionate devotion not only to her but also in the service of every living being.

He is a wild creature that has come gently to her hand, a vine tiger purring against her cheek. Every softness of his touch, every kind glance or loving word is a small miracle in itself. How can she not be grateful for such gifts?”

From the novelization of RotS.

Padmé Amidala’s inner monologue from the Revenge of the Sith novelization offers a fascinating but deeply flawed insight into her perspective, exposing glaring inconsistencies in her character and worldview. While Padmé is often portrayed as an empathetic and wise leader, her thoughts here betray a sense of immaturity, condescension, and a disturbing romanticization of Anakin’s deeply problematic behavior.

Condescension and Elitism

Padmé’s reflection on her life before Anakin is alarmingly dismissive of not only herself but also the people she claimed to serve. Describing her previous existence as belonging to "some lesser being to be pitied, some poor impoverished spirit," she inadvertently exposes a deep-seated elitism. This sentiment starkly contrasts with her public image as a compassionate leader devoted to uplifting the disenfranchised. Her words betray an inherent belief in her own superiority, rooted in her privilege as Naboo nobility, which feels jarringly disconnected from her political career as a champion of the underprivileged.

By referring to others as “poor impoverished spirits,” Padmé reduces the lived experiences of countless beings across the galaxy to pitiable, shallow existences, implicitly suggesting that they lack the capacity to truly understand life’s profundities. Such condescension undermines her credibility as an empathetic leader who is supposed to value all lives equally. For someone who ostensibly devoted herself to serving the needs of the downtrodden, these thoughts suggest a deep-seated disconnect from the very people she claims to represent. How can someone who views the galaxy’s poor as "lesser beings" genuinely champion their rights? Her compassion, as implied by these musings, is framed not as equality but as an almost victorian noblesse oblige, a patronizing obligation to protect those she implicitly considers beneath her.

Condescension Towards Anakin

Padmé’s description of Anakin as someone she understands better than he understands himself is patronizing at best and dismissive of his autonomy at worst. While it is true that she is older than Anakin and likely more experienced, her framing positions herself as his intellectual and emotional superior, diminishing him to a wild, untamed creature she has tamed through her grace and love.

Referring to him as a "vine tiger purring against her cheek" infantilizes and romanticizes him in equal measure, echoing an unhealthy dynamic where she both elevates and diminishes him simultaneously, reducing him to a being she controls rather than a partner she respects as an equal. This language strips Anakin of complexity and humanity, framing him as a prize she has won rather than a partner of the same standing as she.

She views him almost as a project—someone she must guide and “fix.” This attitude not only undermines the mutual respect required in a healthy relationship but also sets her up as an idealized, almost maternal figure in Anakin’s life, which is problematic given his apparent yearning for a nurturing presence to replace his mother and his well-documented struggles with emotional regulation, anger, and trauma.

Instead of addressing these issues with the seriousness they deserve, Padmé romanticizes his volatility, viewing his faults as charming quirks rather than dangerous red flags. Instead she positions herself as a benevolent overseer of Anakin's flaws as endearing traits she is uniquely equipped to handle. This naïve approach not only undermines her judgment but also places her in harm's way, as evidenced by his eventual violent actions toward her.

Immaturity and Naivety

For a 27-year-old woman who has spent years navigating the intricacies of politics and war, Padmé’s thoughts read more like the diary of a lovestruck teenager than the reflections of a seasoned leader. Her infatuation with Anakin’s “smoldering passion” and the “fire in his eyes” feels shallow and disproportionate, especially considering the stakes of their relationship at this point in the story. She is on the verge of giving birth during a galactic war, yet her focus remains on idealizing a man who has already demonstrated significant moral and ethical failings.

This immaturity is further highlighted by her dismissal of Anakin’s violent tendencies and inability to handle rejection or criticism. She acknowledges his pride, moodiness, and quick temper, yet brushes them aside as minor flaws overshadowed by his supposed “greatness.” This blind devotion prevents her from confronting the reality of Anakin’s descent into darkness, instead choosing to cling to a fantasy of who she wants him to be.

Romanticizing Unhealthy Behavior

Padmé’s belief that Anakin has loved her faithfully for a decade borders on absurdity when one considers the context. Anakin was a nine-year-old child when they first met, a child incapable of comprehending romantic love in a meaningful way. His “love” for her at that age was more akin to hero worship or a childhood crush. His fixation on her during the intervening years is less a testament to his devotion and more indicative of an unhealthy obsession. By the time they reunite, Anakin is an emotionally stunted teenager with significant anger issues and a propensity for violence, as demonstrated by his massacre of the Tusken village.

Padmé’s dismissal of this atrocity, coupled with her romanticization of his flaws, reveals her inability to see Anakin for who he truly is. Instead, she projects onto him qualities he does not possess, such as a supposed “devotion to every living being,” which is blatantly contradicted by his actions. Anakin’s loyalty is limited to a small circle of people he cares about, and he is willing to sacrifice entire planets and populations to protect them. Far from being selfless, his actions are often driven by selfishness and a refusal to let go of those he loves.

Padmé’s inner thoughts in this passage are deeply problematic, exposing a condescending attitude toward others, an immature understanding of love, and a dangerous tendency to romanticize unhealthy behavior. Far from being the wise and compassionate leader she is often portrayed as, this depiction reveals her as naïve, elitist, and out of touch with reality. Her unwavering idealization of Anakin blinds her to his faults and enables his destructive behavior, ultimately contributing to the tragedy that unfolds. In this light, Padmé’s story becomes not just one of personal loss but also of the devastating consequences of failing to confront uncomfortable truths.

Her thoughts reveal that her attachment to Anakin is not rooted in a deep understanding or acceptance of who he truly is but rather in an idealized, almost fictionalized version of him. This essay explores the possibility that Padmé’s love for Anakin is based more on his physical attractiveness, status, and the thrilling fantasy he represents, rather than on a genuine emotional connection.

Infatuation with Power, Fame, and Status

Padmé’s admiration for Anakin’s physical appearance and reputation is evident in her thoughts:

“...the direct, unashamed, smoldering passion of a powerful Jedi: a young man, to be sure, but every centimeter a man— a man whose legend was already growing within the Jedi Order and beyond.”

This description emphasizes Anakin’s physical allure and his rising fame within the galaxy. Padmé appears captivated by his role as a Jedi hero and “the Chosen One,” as if these external attributes define his worth. Her fixation on his power and status raises questions about whether she would have been as drawn to him if he were an ordinary person without his heroic image.

Anakin’s role in the Clone Wars as a celebrated warrior likely amplified this allure. To Padmé, his deeds on the battlefield and his “larger-than-life” persona may have symbolized strength, protection, and excitement—qualities that fed into her romantic fantasy. However, this focus on external attributes creates a shallow foundation for their relationship, where Padmé values what Anakin represents rather than who he truly is.

Resistance to the Ordinary

Padmé’s reluctance to acknowledge the realities of her relationship and her insistence on secrecy reflect her fear of losing the fantasy she has built. By keeping their marriage a secret, Padmé avoids the mundane responsibilities that come with open commitment, especially as parents. This secrecy also ensures that Anakin remains in the Jedi Order, maintaining the illusion of him as the heroic “Chosen One” rather than an ordinary man.

Her hesitation to accept Anakin leaving the Jedi Order—despite his willingness to do so for her and their child—further underscores her attachment to his status. Without the prestige of his Jedi identity, Anakin would lose much of the mystique that fuels Padmé’s romanticized view of him. A life outside the Order, where Anakin might take on a humble, civilian role, would lack the excitement and grandeur she associates with their relationship.

The Fantasy of the Hero and the Damsel

Padmé’s perception of her relationship with Anakin resembles a narrative straight out of a teenage romantic novel. In this fantasy, she casts herself as the heroine, a damsel in distress rescued and cherished by a dashing knight in shining armor:

“Her real life began the first time she looked into Anakin Skywalker’s eyes..."

This statement diminishes her achievements and reduces her identity to being the object of Anakin’s affection. It also reveals her belief that her relationship with Anakin has elevated her life to a level of profound significance that others can only dream of. This is the crux of her fantasy: she views herself as living out a romantic narrative, one in which she is the main character and Anakin is the larger-than-life hero who completes her.

The thrill of their forbidden love, heightened by the secrecy and danger of the Clone Wars, making it feel like a dramatic, star-crossed love story rather than a grounded partnership, fuels this fantasy. Their brief, adrenaline-filled encounters allow Padmé to avoid confronting the complexities and flaws in their relationship. She seems more captivated by the excitement and drama of their circumstances than by Anakin himself.

What´s more, this perspective also reduces her to a passive figure whose identity revolves around her romantic connection. Padmé’s reflections diminish her own sense of agency and independence. By framing her life before Anakin as belonging to a "lesser being," she effectively erases her accomplishments as queen and senator. This framing reduces her identity to her relationship with Anakin, portraying her as a woman who finds her "real life" only through her husband. She views her pre-Anakin self—and by extension, the very people she claims to serve—as pitiable, as though her life only gained meaning through her relationship with a powerful man. This is particularly problematic given that Padmé is supposed to be a role model of strength and leadership. Her thoughts here make her seem more like a character in Anakin’s story than the protagonist of her own.

The Cost of Living in a Fantasy

Padmé’s refusal to wake from this romantic fantasy has far-reaching consequences. Her inability to confront the reality of Anakin’s flaws—his possessiveness, violent tendencies, moral compromises and growing obsession with power—allows his darker impulses to grow unchecked. When Anakin confesses to murdering the Tuskens, including women and children, Padmé rationalizes his actions rather than addressing the gravity of what he has done because acknowledging these realities would shatter her romantic illusion.

This denial extends to her pregnancy. Padmé’s insistence on keeping their relationship secret under the guise of duty to the common people of the galaxy and protecting Anakin’s position within the Jedi Order, even as she approaches the birth of their child, reveals a troubling prioritization of the romantic fantasy over practical concerns. A child would inevitably expose their relationship, yet Padmé continues to cling to the illusion that they can maintain their double lives. This decision suggests that Padmé values the drama and excitement of their forbidden love more than the stability and safety of their unborn child. The fantasy of being a romantic heroine takes precedence over her role as a mother.

This failure to confront reality not only endangers her but also their unborn children. Padmé’s prioritization of the fantasy over practical concerns means that her children are born into chaos, with no stable foundation or clear future. Her eventual death from heartbreak underscores the destructive power of her refusal to let go of the fantasy, as she chooses to die rather than face life without Anakin. This choice illustrates the ultimate consequence of clinging to an illusion: the loss of self, family, and the opportunity to create a meaningful legacy.

Conclusion

Padmé Amidala’s love for Anakin Skywalker, as depicted in the Revenge of the Sith novelization, is deeply rooted in an idealized fantasy. Her admiration for his physical attractiveness, fame, and status as a Jedi hero overshadows a genuine understanding of who he is. This fantasy-driven love blinds her to the flaws in their relationship and prevents her from confronting the responsibilities of motherhood and partnership.

Ultimately, Padmé’s refusal to let go of the romanticized narrative she has created not only undermines her character’s maturity but also contributes to the tragic downfall of both herself and Anakin. By clinging to an illusion, she sacrifices the opportunity to build a grounded, meaningful life for herself and her child. In doing so, her story serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of idealizing relationships and clinging to illusions at the expense of truth and responsibility.

[ispridestillasin]

Okay this is probably going to sound like I hate Padme (I don't. I just think she's flawed like all people are and should be taken off the pedestal the fandom puts her on, but that's a thought for another day), but I headcanon that Leia respects Padme as a senator for what she did for democracy, but I highly doubt Leia liked her as a person due to her personal life decisions (ex. her marrying Anakin, being okay with the Tusken massacre and their dehumanization, believing that there can still be good in Anakin despite there being proof he killed the Jedi Temple younglings, etc.). We are actively shown that Leia is very duty orientated and loyal in regards to the New Republic and the Resistance to the point that it impacted her personal relationships. I don't think she would have liked that Padme put her own personal life above her duty as a senator that was a proponent of democracy. This is just a personal headcanon of mine but I wanted to get this out there because c'mon I can't be the only one to think this.

[revenge-of-the-shit]

Luke and Leia would have been so fucked up if Anakin and Padme actually raised them

[jedi-enthusiast]

I just came across a post someone made where they basically just said that Padme telling Anakin “it’s human to be angry” after he commits the Tusken Massacre is fine because she was “empathizing with him” and also criticizing the SW fandom via satire for criticizing Padme for that and saying that there was still good in him.

So one thing I need people to understand before they ever start getting on the- “you can’t criticize Padme, she did nothing wrong, she was just in love” -soapbox, is that her and Anakin’s love story is inherently toxic on both ends.

There is no version of their story that ends well if they stay together.

Anakin is a narcissistic abuser*, and Padme is an enabler of his behavior.

(*Keep in mind, when I say “Anakin is an abuser,” I mean the emotional abuser sort—as he doesn’t ever physically harm her until RotS)

This post is primarily about Padme, though, so I’ll just make another post analyzing Anakin—if that’s something y’all would be interested in.

—————

Think about it, though.

Anakin commits mass murder, including the murder of literal children, and Padme—someone who the fandom loves to point to as being morally perfect—basically says that it’s fine because being angry- (and committing mass murder because of it ig) -is normal.

She even rewards him by marrying him like, what is it, a day later? And she never tells anyone about it because god forbid Anakin face any consequences.

Anakin almost beats a man to death and then blames Padme for her own assault, she says he scares her and they need to take a break…but then she goes back to him soon after and apparently forgets all about the whole- “almost beating a man to death” -thing and is so excited to raise a family with him.

Because growing up in a household where their father regularly gets incredibly angry, and physically violent when he is, totally won’t traumatize the kid or anything! Raising children with a child-murderer totally isn’t cause for concern!

Anakin takes part in a genocide, massacres the Temple, ONCE AGAIN MURDERS CHILDREN…and she’s still begging him to stay with her so they can raise their perfect little family on Naboo.

And apparently he’s still a good person.

Right.

—————

Anakin never receives any consequences or pushback from Padme for his actions/behavior and, on the rare occasions she does push back, she goes running back to him—plowing over her own boundaries—almost immediately because she refuses to let go of her own delusional fantasies about their relationship.

That is what people are criticizing for, not for falling in love in the first place.

Anakin has his own set of issues that make the relationship toxic, but Padme also takes part in that toxicity by enabling his behavior—and people are well within their rights to criticize her for it, just like they should criticize Anakin.

[louddetectiveballoon]

I was unfortunately just reminded of the line "you're just human you're allowed to have feelings" by Padme in AOTC and I genuinely don't understand her in that moment. She isn't her pro Anakin ROTS or CW self yet, she's passionate about helping people and has strong moral values overall.

While we can argue the morality of how the Naboo treated the Gungans and she only crossed that bridge when her people were at war (and losing) while still being part of that age old system, I don't believe she would be the type to excuse the murder of kids and people "because some 19yo who's mad with grief from losing his mom just told me they aren't people".

It feels incredibly ooc from her and I truly believe she didn't do him any favours by entertaining him with the Tuskens. Maybe I'm too aro for this shit and don't understand how you could betray all of your morals for a pretty face idk.

The fact that she knew about the Tuskens is sometimes discussed in the fandom yes, but it's somehow always overlooked that she also agreed with Anakin's mass murder and it makes me so angry.

And if she had reacted like her true Senator/former Queen of Naboo self, she could've pointed him to a therapist or mind healer (or even to some authorities who knows, turning yourself in after committing a heinous crime is an option !)

Anyway, I'm usually disapproving of Anidala as a whole but sometimes I remember this sort of stuff and it just adds to the big list of "how the Jedi got screwed over" and it makes me sad.

[girlrandomstuff]

SHUT UP, FINALLY A SW NOVEL FOCUSING ON MON MOTHMA AND BAIL ORGANA!

also this has to be one of my favorite art cover design of star wars books

THOUGHTS:

I'm so excited cuz I have RANT for literally YEARS, about Star Wars not giving characters like Bail Organa, Breha Organa and Mon Mothma the appreciation and development they deserve, and here it comes, this is so personal to me, I it's going to be like my entire personality for the next months.

Still, I'm a bit, idk if 'worried' is the word to go with but I can't find other, because of how they're going to handle them, I have read that the books are going to explore "Padme's legacy" and if you know me well, you know I'm not a big fan of this character, so I'm really like worried that they will make Bail Organa and Mon Mothma "Padme's legacy", which they are not, Bail became Palpatine's #1 oppositor YEARS before Padme became a senator, Bail and Mon were allies and worked together to achieve good things years before Padme became senator, Bail Organa and Mon Mothma were the ones to put together the Delegation of the 2000 before Padme joined them, it was Bail's office the first place in which the first meeting took place, and I can say many other things they both did because they were good people and great leaders, not because in memory of a lost ally/friend, and I just really hope they give Mon and Bail the appreciation, the development, the story they are worthy.

[rohirriamgirl3791]

Ya know when I was 24 , I couldn’t imagine being with someone 19. It just seems weird to me.

Makes Anakin and Padme seem even stranger to me.

[lightdancer1]

I will also note on the Anakin-Padme relationship:

That I really do tend to see it, and write it, as an innately toxic thing but for entirely human reasons, because if Anakin is always one set of footsteps away from Darth Vader then what was there for him to fall? Where I view the toxicity stems from a dynamic not unlike what I write for and with Death and Dream in Sandman, though explicitly romantic where the other isn't.

Anakin puts Padme on a pedestal and worships the ground she walks on, where actual human Padme Naberrie is far more complicated than that. She is as impulsive as he is, and where he is unapologetically violent and capable of swift steps to it, she calls it 'aggressive negotiations' and jokes about it while pretending that the ultimate result is not, in fact, the same. Nine in ten of the flaws stem from Anakin ultimately rushing into a marriage with the first woman he saw after a week and never considering the consequences, nor that a relationship takes a lot more work than that, and that he's ultimately a rabid golden retriever garbage fire man.

The other tenth was the secrecy that ultimately, given Anakin has zero impulse control or ability to consider the consequences of his actions blended with great power, I believe was Padme herself. And ultimately that she was willing to lie to her friends and her family about the marriage to, in my view, keep one thing for herself that was Padme Naberrie's and neither the Senator nor the former Queen's, and this is a not unimportant part of why things failed. I also believe that in this regard that if Anakin Skywalker were left to himself he would have led a ticker tape parade celebrating that he won the most beautiful woman in the Galaxy as his.

He wouldn't have reckoned on how literally anything else with that might have complicated his life because he's Anakin Skywalker, thinking is for other people. Padme, OTOH, would have much greater awareness of all those risks and wouldn't consider, either, the pressures of keeping a marriage secret and what it'd mean.

It all ultimately stems to incompatible expectations and Anakin never seeing the real Padme, as appreciating the actual woman and her rationales for the marriage might have given him second thoughts. I also think if he and Sabe had ever had the chance to meet beforehand that he might have fallen head over heels for the person trying to actually get the Tatooine slave system ended over the Queen, with that exact same impulsiveness and lack of control he did with Padme, and that exact same lack of thought. Anakin is both a rabid golden retriever and a Siberian tiger sized orange cat, great power but never had a thought and never will. Wouldn't matter who, if anyone, he fell in love with, much of the same dynamics would apply for much of the same reasons.

[happycattail]

This made me think of this wonderful fic by Virdant (if you haven’t read their fics totally check them out)

It’s just a conversation between Obi-Wan and Leia who’s been raised by Anakin and Padme and boi does it hurt

I can't stress enough how funny and unrealistic "padme and anakin raise the twins and everything is good and happy 😊" aus are to me. Neither of them would be good parents I can like promise you that

[musicalmoritz]

Blocking isn’t enough I think I should be allowed to shoot people who have bad takes on Anakin and Padmé

[antianakin]

I think one of the funniest things to see in Star Wars fandom is this idea that Anakin and Padme would actually genuinely be good for each other and be a happy, healthy couple if only Anakin didn't go dark or if only Palpatine hadn't manipulated them or something along those lines.

And I'm over here like "based on what common values and interests?"

The things they share the most in common are the things that make them TOXIC, it's the very traits they share that lead them to their shared doom and destruction. Their shared selfishness, greed, and ambition is what allows them to throw aside their ideals in order to be together no matter the cost. Their shared willingness to ignore reality in favor of what they WANT to believe is what allows their situation to continue to deteriorate.

Padme fights for democracy, and Anakin believes in dictatorships.

Padme wants a large family because she has fond memories of her childhood with her own family, and Anakin wants one person whose life revolves around him and him alone.

Padme (usually) believes in mercy and justice, and Anakin believes in might makes right.

What about them would make anyone think they'd actually ever be a functional couple when the only stuff they have in common are the lies they tell themselves about each other?

[sammys-magical-au]

Y’know I think the thing that people don’t take away from Star Wars is that anger is not an evil emotion. It’s a motivator that can lead to evil actions when not controlled or mitigated, but anger in itself is not an indicator of being a bad person.

People tend to largely ignore Padmé’s existence at times and I wonder if this is why that message doesn’t get through - after all, she was the one to tell Anakin “to be angry is to be human”, immediately after he told her that he’d slaughtered an entire village. Not “you’re evil for this” or even “you need to control your emotions better” - the first is not true, the second is something he already knows and has been told again and again countless times before, and by people who refuse to help him learn how to do so.

The Jedi fell because they were afraid of anger. They were afraid to acknowledge it as anything more than the path to evil, when in reality, pretending that any emotion is just “evil” rather than learning to work with it, suppressing it and dismissing it as quickly as possible instead of allowing it to pass, that is when it becomes dangerous, that is when it leads to thoughtless action, and a lot of those actions could be considered evil.

My point being; if actual emotional management had been taught by the Jedi instead of constant preaching about how “fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to the dark side”, they would have been much stronger and they would never have fallen so easily, because Anakin - and every other Jedi in the entire galaxy - would have had a healthy enough grasp on their emotions to know how to handle them and not react rashly (as many of them often did, not just Anakin).

[revenge-of-the-shit]

I think Padme's character deserved to become unhinged and go absolutely batshit, as a treat. I want a scene where she's confronted by someone else - one of her handmaidens, Riyo Chuchi, Bail Organa, Captain Typho, someone - about how her love for Anakin has shown that she is outright compromising her morals, and how what she has isn't what it seems, and she just loses it, she demands, Why can't I have this one thing for myself, just once? I've given everything for Naboo!, and indeed she has - she lost her childhood, her chance to be a kid and then a teenager, she lost her safety and parts of her personhood in pursuit of making her planet better, and she just wants the illusion of this ONE thing, just this one thing

[jedi-enthusiast]

There’s another question I want to ask

Do people think Padme and Shimi would agree to annihilation of the galaxy just to prolong their lives?

And why? Why would they?

I think that, in some cases regarding Padme, the answer is yes---people think that Padme would be completely fine with the galaxy being brought to its knees, as long as she was the ruler of it- (or someone who she approved of was). And, to be completely honest, while I do think that people who think that are fundamentally wrong---I don't really blame them for holding that belief for her.

Mainly because we see her excuse things like the Tusken massacre and the Jedi's genocide. So they're basically just taking the "she would excuse/ignore it, as long as Anakin was the one doing it and he went forward in a way that would allow her to ignore it" aspect of her to the extreme and saying "she would want that done for her," even though I do think she would never actively want something like that.

For the most part though, I don't think people ever think about Shmi or Padme in regards to Anakin at all, unless they can use them as tools to uplift him or excuse his atrocities.

When people talk about- "the Tuskens killed Shmi so Anakin killed them, so it's ok, they deserved it!" -or- "the Jedi took Anakin away from Shmi/the Jedi wouldn't let him see Shmi, so they caused/deserved their genocide!" -or whatever, they are only thinking about Anakin.

Shmi, her wants, her wishes, how she would feel about all of it...none of it matters to them, all that matters is Anakin---what he wants, how he feels.

It doesn't matter that Shmi is the one that kept insisting Qui-Gon take Anakin to the Temple, it doesn't matter that Shmi would've been horrified and disgusted by what Anakin did in her name. All that matters is Anakin.

The same goes for Padme---how she would feel or what she would want is of zero importance to these people, as long as they can use her as a tool to uplift Anakin.

For Anakin stans and apologists, the women in his life are nothing except tools and character canon fodder---they don't matter unless they can be used and exploited to frame their favorite fascist man-baby in a favorable light.

[blackkatmagic]

In this trying time (3 hr AO3 maintenance) do you have any wips to share?

“Kidnapped?” Padmé asks, frowning. “On Naboo? Are you sure?”

Aayla Secura isn't someone Padmé has more than a passing familiarity with, just a fleeting impression of contained mirth and good humor, beauty and tempered ferocity in a fight. Even that small amount of knowledge of her person, though, is enough to know that this serious, almost grim cast to her features is unusual. She curls her arms across her chest, blue eyes dark and mouth pulled tight, and her voice has an edge of certainty, as immovable as stone as she says, “I'm sure, Senator. I just don’t have proof that the Senate will accept.”

Padmé manages not to grimace, though it’s a close thing. With the war turning in the Separatists’ favor, there's almost no chance that the Senate would approve any Jedi leaving their post for any reason, and particularly one with a frontline role like Aayla. The 327th has had some of the most dangerous assignments of the whole war, but—

Clearly it hasn’t been enough to win her any favors from the Senate. Not even a friendly ear.

It feels, a little, like addressing the full Senate when she was fourteen, standing before them and practically begging for them to help Naboo, only to have all the faces there turn away as one. Smaller stakes, maybe, than a full planet being on the line, but Aayla is seeking help for her Master, and Padmé can understand that.

But��word that there was a Shadow on Naboo stirs something like alarm, deep in her chest, though she controls it, locks it behind an iron wall where a Jedi will only feel the vaguest traces of it. After Anakin, she has practice at that sort of thing. Useful, now, knowing that someone else was poking around on her homeworld.

“Why would a Jedi Shadow be on Naboo?” she asks, and when Aayla's eyes narrow, she raises a hand. “Knight Secura, I just want to understand. My planet is hardly a front in the war, and we’re well-removed from most supply lines. It seems a strange place for a Jedi to go when the Separatists have just started a push on all fronts, and the Republic is back on its heels.”

Just for a moment, there’s a flicker of self-consciousness that she buries as best she can, a vivid awareness of the comm in the bottom drawer of her desk, the code she memorized before destroying the note. But—there's no way any Jedi could know about anything relating to her personal matters. Even a Shadow. Most of them are far too busy to look into a single Senator’s life. It’s one of the only reasons, Padmé is sure, that her marriage to Anakin survived as long as it did. Not that it matters any longer.

Finding out just why Quinlan Vos was on Naboo needs to be a priority, though. Padmé can't risk anything else slipping through the cracks.

Aayla signs, lekku curling, and her tense posture eases, just a for a moment. “I'm sorry, Senator Amidala. Quinlan never even mentioned to me that he would be on Naboo, much less what he was doing there. But the last message I got from him was alarming. It must have been important, and I think it put him in danger.”

Padmé curls her fingers against her palm, not letting her nails dig in even though she wants to. She’s seen Jedi working often enough not to doubt Aayla's assertion, even if there isn't proof most of the Senate would accept, but—

Naboo shouldn’t be drawing any eyes, let alone dangerous ones. Not now. Not yet.

“Naboo's security forces haven't alerted me to any strange activity recently,” she says, frowning, but she pushes up from her desk, steps around it to face Aayla more squarely. “What leads you to believe Master Vos is on Naboo?”

For a moment, Aayla hesitates. Then, with a breath, she pulls a comm out of one pocket and holds it up, letting the blue glow flicker to life.

“This,” she says grimly. “I was in a battle when I received it, so it was left as a message. If I had known, I would have answered, but—”

She breaks off, and Padmé doesn’t need to be an empath to feel the self-recrimination that vibrates through the silence.

“—need you to contact Tholme,” Vos is saying when the message starts, clear despite the faint buzz of the image, his words quick and almost desperate. He’s curled over, hunched, with one hand pressed against his side in a way that makes it clear he’s injured, and Padmé frowns. She doesn’t know Vos well, either, but she’s only ever seen him cheerful and laughing, perfectly willing to tease Obi-Wan and good-natured about being teased in return. This is about as far from that as she can imagine.

“Please, Aayla,” Vos says, urgent. “Tell him it’s about the Mask—”

A blaster shot, the crack so loud and close it makes Padmé flinch and twitch back. Vos jerks too, spinning to the side and out of frame, and in his place a figure arrows across the field of the projector, so quick that Padmé can't pick out details. A blaster fires again, and there's a cry, a splash—

Aayla freezes the image there, one fractured, half-blurred shot of curved earth and white pillars and a wide stretch of water, and Padmé goes still, alarm rising.

That’s Naboo. That’s Theed. She knows it down to the last stone, and particularly that space.

“That’s beneath the Royal Palace,” she says, and keeps it even through force of will. “Knight Secura, what was Master Vos doing in Naboo's palace? What Mask is he talking about?”

He can't have known. He can't. Apailana is the only other person besides Sabé who knows, and she wouldn’t betray Padmé for anything.

Aayla switches off the projector, shaking her head. “I don’t know,” she says grimly, lekku twisting with worry as she meets Padmé’s eyes, desperation just hidden behind a Jedi's serenity. “But I would like your help to find out, Senator.”

.

The last time Padmé traveled to Naboo with a Jedi, it was Anakin accompanying her as they fled from Jango Fett's assassination attempts, and nothing about that trip sits easily in her memory.

This trip, Padmé thinks ruefully, looks to be just as stressful, if for rather different reasons.

“You're sure your men can spare you, Knight Secura?” she asks, even though she knows what the answer will be. Sabé, at her right hand, is managing to keep a perfectly blank face, but Padmé knows her well enough to see the way tension lingers in the perfectly straight line of her spine, in the angle of her chin as she carries Padmé’s bag aboard the star skiff.

The slant of Aayla's mouth is rueful. “At least temporarily,” she says. “The 327th is on leave awaiting a resupply and a new batch of recruits. Until then, I can help look for my Master.”

At the very least, the skiff is quick enough that it won't be as long a trip as the one with Anakin, undercover as refugees on a public transport. Padmé forces herself to focus on that and smiles, making it as warm as possible. “We welcome your help, Knight Secura. A Jedi is always a valuable ally to have.”

Sabé, at the edge of the cockpit, slants her a look, but Padmé pretends not to see it.

Aayla glances back towards the entrance to the port, a handful of seconds before a clone trooper in gold-marked armor rounds the corner, moving quickly. “If you’ll excuse me, Senator,” she says politely. “I’ll meet you on Naboo once I've finished seeing to matters here.”

Some part of Padmé was expecting Aayla to push onboard, settle in, ignore all niceties in the name of what she wants. Jarring, almost, to realize that she isn't going to, and it makes her waver, just for an instant. Makes her hesitate, nerves curling in her stomach, because the lack of that is somehow just as unsettling as the presence of it.

But—better. Better this way. Padmé needs to speak to Sabé somewhere there's no chance of being overheard, and hyperspace is the best option.

“Very well,” she says. “I need to meet with the queen once I arrive, and I’ll inform her you intend to join us.”

“Thank you.” Aayla bows, polite, and then straightens, giving Padmé a smile that’s bright and warm and full of relief, so pretty it hits like a blow, makes Padmé’s breath want to catch. “Thank you again, Senator Amidala. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you were willing to help. And that you believed me.”

“I trust the Jedi,” Padmé says, and—her throat feels just a little tight around the lie. That curl of attraction makes her turn her face away, uneasy, and she brushes down the skirt of her dress, doesn’t let her fingers dig into the blaster-proof fabric. Not lightsaber-proof, though. She needs to look into that, see what Yané has come up with. One more thing to do while she’s on Naboo, even if she hadn’t planned to return for at least a few months.

“The Jedi trust you as well, Senator,” Aayla murmurs. “We count you as one of our greatest allies in the Senate. Please, excuse me.”

She turns, moves quickly to meet her clone commander, and Padmé watches her for a long second, trying not to let her gaze linger on the fall of Aayla's lekku, the sway of her movements, perfectly graceful and controlled.

Her throat feels tight again, and she turns away, takes a breath. Dangerous, something in the back of her mind whispers. Too dangerous. Not something she can risk again, no matter how pretty Aayla is.

Sabé is waiting for her at the top of the ramp, her gaze fixed on Aayla's back. There's no attraction in her face, though, just buried wariness, and as Padmé makes her way onto the skiff, she deliberately closes the door and then says quietly, “My lady, will the Jedi be joining us?”

Padmé shakes her head. “She’ll join us on Naboo,” she says. “You have a copy of the message?”

“Of course.” Sabé follows her up to the cockpit, sliding into the copilot’s seat without hesitation. “Teckla and Dormé have everything settled here. Your presence shouldn’t be missed.”

Not unless Anakin comes looking for her again, Padmé thinks grimly. He can tell when it’s a Handmaiden playing her, and she doesn’t trust that he won't say something to give Dormé away. She should have made herself more than clear enough last time he confronted her, but—

Anakin has never been good at taking no for an answer. That’s the problem.