The Lucky One ⋆ Anakin Skywalker

𝖛𝖎𝖎𝖎. Devils Roll The Dice

          Thalia stares at her niece, unwavering. She's not going to give her the satisfaction of getting angry. Thalia knows firsthand what happened to her people – she's spent the last week trying to come up with a financial scheme to satisfy everyone, so that no one starves. She's sent riches from her own resources to them. She knows. They are her people.

          "I'm done with this conversation," she declares coldly, grabbing the datapad and gathering her blue gown. "Get the peace treaty signed. Don't blame me for what your vendetta is causing."

          Shadril scoffs. "My vendetta? You're a kid sitting on a throne, Thalia. I doubt you have any idea what you're doing. A peace treaty won't tame them into submission, we'll have to deal with rebellions. You're grappling with facts you don't understand."

          Thalia doesn't look behind her when she says, "If you want someone to blame, remember who put me there."

          Rebellions are easily squashed when Thalia has the trust and love of her people. They will dissolve themselves when they won't be followed. The most important thing to focus on right now is to stop spending their money on a royal vengeance spree that has nothing to do with the civilians.

          There's no use speaking to Shadril. Her ideas are always firmly set, much like her own. What she's doing is right on her own terms, and she won't let her younger aunt try and make her see any other way. Luckily for them, Thalia is the Queen.

          But for now, she wanted to prove her niece right. For once, she wanted to be a teenage girl.

          Finding Anakin is an easy feat. He paces most of the time through the castle, and his steps are light against the tile, his breaths come wavering, inhaled sharply. He's in control of his body, his emotions, less so.

          She follows the sound of his feelings until she spots him at the end of the corridor leading to the library. His back is turned to her, but when she steps forward, he turns around. His breathing evens out, and he smirks, the way that infuriates her.

          "Good evening, your High–"

          "Shut up and come with me."

          Anakin fumbles on his words as she grabs his arm and leads him towards the stables. Her grip on him is firm and he can feel her nails dig into his Jedi robe, not letting him go.

          He should probably do something to get out of her grip. He has a thousand training moves in his brain swirling to get out of it. He is not known to get bossed around, the Jedi Council would say...

          He lets her tug him through the corridors like a child being scolded. What for, he doesn't know.

          She's following some advice she received before leaving for the Senate. Myriil knew when Thalia got on the throne that it would be too much, eventually. It is for anyone.

          "What are we doing here?" Anakin asks, watching as her ears tilt left and right for anyone who would've followed them. "Your Majesty? Thalia?"

          "Call it a royal secret, but there will always be a hidden stash of civilian clothing in the stables for any monarch who wants to get away," she tells him, rummaging through the hay in the second to the last stable. She takes out a fur coat and leather pants, from what he can see. "There. See?"

          Anakin stares at her. A second ago, he was just going to the library to pass the time. "No. No, no see."

          "Shadril thinks I'm a child, and I'm petty enough to prove her right," she rambles on. "I need a distraction. If we're to do this, we have to act fast and keep quiet."