All Smiles and Sunshine

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(At the time of this thread, Cedric and Caida are nine and seven.)

Cedric had heard about Naboo. About its rolling green hills, luxurious palaces, and mostly about the ice cream. His father spoke so fondly of it. That, and the fact that he was finally getting to meet his grandmother. A woman of power, whatever that meant. Father said she was royalty, the queen of the whole planet. Little Cedric couldn't wrap his head around it - he knew of Crystalsong's kings and queens. Some of them were very violent. One had even threatened to take the farm when he was little!

His father had used his magic to solve the problem. It worked with a lot of things, and apparently, Caida could use it too. Cedric had asked about it, but his father always gave vague answers. Never a yes or a no, and then he would drop the question entirely. Whenever he asked his mother, she always said it didn't matter. That she was his son, and that was enough.

It wasn't enough for him though.

He clutched his stuffed nuna close to his chest, and stared out the window as the massive city of Theed as their shuttle swooped down. Bright blue eyes were wide with amazement as he took in the scenery. There was nothing like this back on Crystalsong.

"Excited?" His father, dressed in a spacer's outfit consisting of a leather jacket and a buttoned up white shirt, asked. He ruffled his son's short hair, and kept his eyes out toward the city below, settling the ship down low with one hand.

Cedric might have bounced around, just a little bit. "Yeah! Everything is so green, and it's all really bright, and-and-and it's so...pretty! Did you grow up here, papa?" Cyril shook his head. "No, but your grandmother and your aunts did. I'm sure they're excited to meet you."

"Really?"

"Really. Now go wake up your mother, and make sure Caida hasn't broken anything, okay big guy?" He grinned at the boy.

Cedric bounced on his heels, waved his nuna about, and ran to the back of the ship. Below, the hanger to royal palace hung open like a monster's mouth waiting to swallow them up. It might as well have been. For a moment, anxiety struck Cyril. He'd made cursory trips back to Theed now and then, but he'd never taken his family. It was too dangerous. He was a wanted man, and his wife even more so. Sith Intelligence would stick their heads on pikes and ship their two young children off to the Sith Academy if they were ever caught.

Now though, the war had died down somewhat, and Cyril had judged it was time to introduce his mother to the family. Force knew how well that was going to go.

[member="Cyrene Grayson"], [member="Feena Mason"]

 

[Feena]

"Majesty?"

"Yes I know."

The handmaiden bowed and left the Queens bedchamber without hesitation. It was time for her next round of medication. Wonderful. The only thing keeping her alive at this point was the mass amounts of medication and endless needle pokes that she had to receive daily. Wonderful. She should have retired as planned the first chance she got. Now she had to force herself to live long enough to finish this term. How irresponsible would it be to die in the middle of her reign?

Even if the stress from the job was accelerating the virus's effects on her. Even if the job was literally killing her.

"For Naboo," she grumbled with the sharp edge of sarcasm apparent on ever syllable.

She pressed the injector to her bare forearm and hit the button. She didn't even wince this time. She was so used to it. Her arms were a patchwork of tiny needle points, healing slowly. Her body healed so slowly now, even from the most basic of injuries.
Ironic. She could still heal other people, but nothing she did could seem to fix what was wrong with her.

She sighed, wiping the blood off her arm with a clean handkerchief. She caught sight of her reflection. Her hair was streaked with silver, like the passing stars in hyperspace. She had lines branching off the corners of her eyes. Crows feet, she'd heard Celeste call them. Ugly was what Feena called them. She supposed she could still be called beautiful... in a stately sort of way. She had certainly aged well, all things considered. Would her husband still think she was beautiful? When she retired, right before she finally let herself die, she'd ask him.

She was getting old. How old was she now? Fifty? It felt like ages since she'd actually celebrated a birthday. And she didn't have many left. It was alright. She only had a matter of months before the end of this term.

They wanted her to take another. They did. The people down there looking up at the Palace. They wanted no more elections. They wanted a permanent Queen. So foolish. Didn't they understand? The fact that they could choose was what kept Naboo free. She would not take another term. She would not pass the throne to her Daughters. Naboo had done away with the old ways long ago. It simply had not worked. No. When she retired, the people would elect a new leader. They would choose.
Blood was not enough to ensure a good leader.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]