Springtime
Salicaire Retreat ‘Villa Navari’, Lake Country, Naboo
472 Days Post-Plague
Vyra Silara dug desperately into the large bag of Sour Patch Jawas in her lap, stuffing them between her lips without checking to see what color they were. The candy stuck to the roof of her dry mouth, and she had to do some unattractive nerf-like chawing to get it unstuck as she stared blankly at the horizon, barely registering the taste.
She sat cross-legged in her white silk nightgown on the roof of Villa Navari in the open twilight air, the thick sun soaked tiles underneath her still warm from the heat of the afternoon rays. At her feet lay a forgotten meditation bowl and a still-burning incense stick, leaning haphazardly to the side in its vase.
Around her, the beautiful wild of Naboo began its grand finale as evening crept across the Lake Country, a display many tourists paid obscene amounts to view at the height of spring. The setting sun would wash the tall ridges of the distant Gallo Mountains in molten gold and bright cerise, and against a backdrop of fading blues they would seem to burn, reflecting in the crystal waters of the bays below. The vibrant greens of the forests would darken, a haven for the multicolored flarebeetles that twinkled and winked among the branches well into the night like so many incandescent stars. The air would crisp with the scent of damp, cooling underbrush and loamy beaches, and the jungles of kelp and algae beneath the waves would come alive, glowing shades of blues and greens, an ethereal sight. Even the flowers shifted, some closing tightly until the sun rose again, others bursting open with glittering petals. It left all breathless, even those who saw it every day.
Vyra looked right through it.
She’d come up here specifically to see The Wilding, as native Naboo people called it, and she looked right through it like it wasn’t there.
Outside, the noble politician was the picture of serenity, aside from her stress-eating. But inside..
She felt…a little dead.
Was this normal? She didn’t know. She’d never been crowned Queen of a planet before. Vyra tracked her thoughts back to her past, careful to avoid thinking too much about..certain things. No, she’d never been crowned, but she’d been sworn into the reining governing body of this galaxy. That was just as big of a deal, wasn’t it? Maybe even more so. Everyone knew the real planetary powers and responsibilities lay with the senators. ‘Queen’ was, for the most part, just a title. A show. A figurehead. Or, it was, until the Plague.
Now, everything was different.
The Senate was gone. Most of the galaxy was gone. Most of her planet was gone. This would be a fresh start, the beginning of a new era, the rise of a phoenix from the ashes. They weren’t crowning a figurehead tomorrow.
They were crowning a leader for the dawn of their new age.
Someone to be both Queen and Senator, to look to in times of need and solve their problems and be their sword of justice in battle, to shelter them from dangers and shape their futures with wisdom. Someone to represent the best of their beautiful planet. A guide.
It shouldn’t have been her. Granted, the pickings were slim, they were in desperate need of a structured government, and she did have the political experience. But a good politician doesn’t always make a good leader. They were not to be dissuaded, though. The vote was cast despite her arguments. They’d chosen her.
She didn’t want this. Not at all. Not again.
They didn’t know. Didn’t know about Zygerria. Didn’t know about the slave Pits. Didn’t know what’d happened to the last people who’d chosen her as their leader.
Her blood was already cold with fear.
Vyra squinted as the setting sun painted her vision with orange light, willing it to stay where it was forever so tomorrow never came. She could already feel the weight of her new title, already see all the hopeful, joyous, trusting faces lining the throne room, watching her with shining eyes as she strode towards her chair. She could taste the future in her mouth, arid, sour, full of manufactured flavors and false promises, could see those shining faces in the throne room suddenly darken, horrified, bloody, betrayed.
She didn’t want this. Not at all. Not again.
As they usually did when she felt herself drowning, her thoughts turned to the only two things in the galaxy that gave her any peace of mind, Kyle and climbing. Though, not together. He wasn’t overly fond of her free-climbing addiction, and she couldn’t say she blamed him. It WAS reckless and dangerous, as was sitting on the roof of her four-story lake retreat, which she achieved by climbing from her bedroom balcony. Not easy to do in a nightgown. But she’d retired to her quarters early, and him to his (to her knowledge), and he had an equally vital role to play tomorrow. Best not to disturb him.
She wanted to, though.
And with that small admission, her mind ran other places, places Kyle lived in her thoughts. Sweeter places. And suddenly she wasn’t drowning in fear but in a myriad of beautiful, often confusing feelings she tried not to indulge.
Vyra smiled, just a little, as she fished out another Sour Patch Jawa and let The Wilding draw her in.
