Q ᴜ ᴇ ᴇ ɴ
T H E - G A T H E R I N G
A new day dawned over the vibrant patchwork planes of Naboo. Rays of golden sun stretched lazily over the dew-kissed grass, making it glisten and sparkle like fine jewellery. A refreshing breeze rolled idly through the streets, chasing away the worries and shadows of the night and replacing them with rejuvenated hope. Throughout Theed, the people of Naboo rose from their slumbers to the tune of the great Solleu River, shifting the peaceful morning hours into the bustling, spirited city routine that many were accustomed too. Soon the ever-present and ever grounding rush of the Virdugo Plunge would be drowned out by the humdrum of everyday life. The rumbling calls of the fishmongers, the exotic sounds of voices from the foreign markets, the incessant buzz of contented chatter filling every street corner, shop, and home.
Naboo's monarch watched her people rise with the sun. She watched as they poured from tiny, rectangle doors, like ants streaming from their underground caves, filling the streets till they were nought but a sea of slowly shifting ebony waves. She watched as plumes of snow-white smoke began to pour from bakery chimneys and home hearths. It wasn't until the light had almost entirely illuminated the twisting roads of Theed that Mila pulled herself away from the window to attend to her duties. Today was a landmark day of Naboo. It was almost tangible. An overwhelmingly sweet, yet heavy sensation clinging to the early morning air. Mila shook her head. A shudder followed that ran the entire length of her spine, as if it were attempting to shake the feeling off her skin.
This was what she hoped would become a landmark day, the young Queen corrected her thoughts. Hisashi had always warned her not to get too far ahead of herself. His words rang like brass bells in her mind. “Hope for the best and plan for the worst.”
If nothing else, it would be the first. The first of what Mila hoped would be a venture to put Naboo on the map. For too long now, the illustrious planet had resided in the shadow of its past. Comfortable and complacent in the darkness, too afraid to reach out for new light. Too afraid to step away from the accomplishments that had bathed them in it once before. Its monarchs had been no better. Mila could see that now. They had been cowering behind the once impressive history the line of succession had claimed, too afraid to shift the focus, to afraid to crumble the powerful image Naboo coveted for itself. She could almost taste the irony. In doing so they had sentence Naboo to its sordid fate. A life of riding on waves that had long since faded from mighty and dominating, now mere laps upon an inauspicious shore. But no longer.
Both she and Talak had debated the idea of hosting the gathering in the throne room, but for this, Mila did not want to force people to stand on pomp and ceremony. Her Father had once brazenly told her that a true Queen recognized when it was time to be Queen, and when it was time to be a leader. The difference between the two had not dawned on the young monarch till the crown was placed upon her head, but now she could see it as clearly as she saw her own reflection. In the end, she had settled on the sun-room at the back of the place.
Its floor to ceiling windows made of crystal clear glass sat neatly at the top of the waterfall, overlooking the dramatic rise and fall of Naboo's horizons. A circle table of dark wood had been placed in the centre of the room, with several plush chairs pushed neatly beneath it. Appropriate food and drinks had been laid out on top, with enough space in front of every seat to comfortably lay a datapad. Mila's dark gaze cast itself over the table, her lips moving wordlessly as she counted them for the fifth time.
“Everything is ready, your highness.” The gruff voice of her stoic steward commented, as though her tenacious inspections irked him somewhat. The young Queen flashed him a charming smile, coupled with a polite nod of gratitude. “Thank you. I suppose they'll be arriving shortly,” Her honeyed tone was filled with nervous excitement. “Ensure no expense is spared in making them comfortable during their stay.” She added quickly. “I believe rooms have been prepared should they wish to extend their visit, which they are invited to do as my personal guests.” The man nodded impatiently, this being the third time he had heard the same words in as many hours.
Mila said nothing further, instead, ending the conversation by lazily strolling toward one of the many seats set around the table. As she settled into the soft velvet, alone now save for the soft sound of her own breathing, her mind began to reel. Spinning webs of impossible thought in patterns Mila had not considered it capable of. The most domineering thought, as it had been in the weeks leading up to this very meeting, was that of fear. Fear that she was just as she appeared, a young and inexperienced Queen with a wild and untameable desire to make something of herself. Fear that, because of that, her ideas would be celebrated in public and laughed at in private. Fear that she would go down in history as her predecessors had. A “would be” Queen. A keeper of ways as they always had been and always would be. Just another body to fill the seat.
A subtle chime echoed across the sun-room, signalling the arrival of her first guest. The fear of Mila the child was swallowed. Tucked away safely behind Mila the leader. There would be time for worries later, in the privacy of her own rooms, to the ears of the people she trusted most. Now the monarch reigned, and she would not see rest until the last of her guests had long since embraced the sweet serenity of sleep. As the chimes grew more frequent, Mila repeated her mantra in time to their tune. The words that had sparked the idea. The words that had nurtured it from a softly burning ember into the blazing fire that had all finally culminated in today. It would be up to the people she had invited to stoke the fire or extinguish it entirely, but for now... the words fuelled the flames.
No society can legitimately claim civility if a sick person is denied medical aid because of a lack of means.
Naboo's monarch watched her people rise with the sun. She watched as they poured from tiny, rectangle doors, like ants streaming from their underground caves, filling the streets till they were nought but a sea of slowly shifting ebony waves. She watched as plumes of snow-white smoke began to pour from bakery chimneys and home hearths. It wasn't until the light had almost entirely illuminated the twisting roads of Theed that Mila pulled herself away from the window to attend to her duties. Today was a landmark day of Naboo. It was almost tangible. An overwhelmingly sweet, yet heavy sensation clinging to the early morning air. Mila shook her head. A shudder followed that ran the entire length of her spine, as if it were attempting to shake the feeling off her skin.
This was what she hoped would become a landmark day, the young Queen corrected her thoughts. Hisashi had always warned her not to get too far ahead of herself. His words rang like brass bells in her mind. “Hope for the best and plan for the worst.”
If nothing else, it would be the first. The first of what Mila hoped would be a venture to put Naboo on the map. For too long now, the illustrious planet had resided in the shadow of its past. Comfortable and complacent in the darkness, too afraid to reach out for new light. Too afraid to step away from the accomplishments that had bathed them in it once before. Its monarchs had been no better. Mila could see that now. They had been cowering behind the once impressive history the line of succession had claimed, too afraid to shift the focus, to afraid to crumble the powerful image Naboo coveted for itself. She could almost taste the irony. In doing so they had sentence Naboo to its sordid fate. A life of riding on waves that had long since faded from mighty and dominating, now mere laps upon an inauspicious shore. But no longer.
Both she and Talak had debated the idea of hosting the gathering in the throne room, but for this, Mila did not want to force people to stand on pomp and ceremony. Her Father had once brazenly told her that a true Queen recognized when it was time to be Queen, and when it was time to be a leader. The difference between the two had not dawned on the young monarch till the crown was placed upon her head, but now she could see it as clearly as she saw her own reflection. In the end, she had settled on the sun-room at the back of the place.
Its floor to ceiling windows made of crystal clear glass sat neatly at the top of the waterfall, overlooking the dramatic rise and fall of Naboo's horizons. A circle table of dark wood had been placed in the centre of the room, with several plush chairs pushed neatly beneath it. Appropriate food and drinks had been laid out on top, with enough space in front of every seat to comfortably lay a datapad. Mila's dark gaze cast itself over the table, her lips moving wordlessly as she counted them for the fifth time.
“Everything is ready, your highness.” The gruff voice of her stoic steward commented, as though her tenacious inspections irked him somewhat. The young Queen flashed him a charming smile, coupled with a polite nod of gratitude. “Thank you. I suppose they'll be arriving shortly,” Her honeyed tone was filled with nervous excitement. “Ensure no expense is spared in making them comfortable during their stay.” She added quickly. “I believe rooms have been prepared should they wish to extend their visit, which they are invited to do as my personal guests.” The man nodded impatiently, this being the third time he had heard the same words in as many hours.
Mila said nothing further, instead, ending the conversation by lazily strolling toward one of the many seats set around the table. As she settled into the soft velvet, alone now save for the soft sound of her own breathing, her mind began to reel. Spinning webs of impossible thought in patterns Mila had not considered it capable of. The most domineering thought, as it had been in the weeks leading up to this very meeting, was that of fear. Fear that she was just as she appeared, a young and inexperienced Queen with a wild and untameable desire to make something of herself. Fear that, because of that, her ideas would be celebrated in public and laughed at in private. Fear that she would go down in history as her predecessors had. A “would be” Queen. A keeper of ways as they always had been and always would be. Just another body to fill the seat.
A subtle chime echoed across the sun-room, signalling the arrival of her first guest. The fear of Mila the child was swallowed. Tucked away safely behind Mila the leader. There would be time for worries later, in the privacy of her own rooms, to the ears of the people she trusted most. Now the monarch reigned, and she would not see rest until the last of her guests had long since embraced the sweet serenity of sleep. As the chimes grew more frequent, Mila repeated her mantra in time to their tune. The words that had sparked the idea. The words that had nurtured it from a softly burning ember into the blazing fire that had all finally culminated in today. It would be up to the people she had invited to stoke the fire or extinguish it entirely, but for now... the words fuelled the flames.
No society can legitimately claim civility if a sick person is denied medical aid because of a lack of means.
