Author's Notes: Vignette-type, speculation on Amidala and possibilities of Force-sensitivity as well as her origins. (I know it's kind of short, I have length-issues, I guess... hopefully my next one will be longer.)
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“How did someone so young become a ruler?” questioned Obi-Wan into the silence.
The queen did not break her gaze over the city. “Naboo is a democracy, I was elected into office,” she answered. “I have served public office before, in Theed.”
“You were trained very early, then?”
“Yes. It is somewhat like the Jedi tradition as I understand it. Force-sensitive children are taken very young,” she commented, finally looking at Obi-Wan. “Is that why they hesitated to train Anakin? Simply because of age?”
Obi-Wan nodded in response. “If a child is taken to be trained from the earliest stages of life, the child does not have a chance to form attachments to any place or person other than his fellow Jedi.”
She regarded Obi-Wan. “It must be a little lonely.”
“Only until you are taken as a Padawan,” he replied. “The relationship between Master and their apprentice is close, deep one. Qui-Gon was like a father to me, my closest companion. I have in turn become close to Anakin.” Obi-Wan guided the conversation back to the original topic. “Why were you selected to be trained?”
Amidala considered the question for a moment. “I was said to be very intelligent, with good intuition. Although, it might seem a little strange to be able to see that in a small child,” she admitted, frowning a bit. “I suppose I don’t really know exactly why I was chosen. My parents were mere farmers, as I would have been had I not been chosen.”
Obi-Wan was silent, pondering her words. Thoughtfully, he extended his mind toward her, seeing her presense in the Force, bright and strong. He brushed her sense gently, testing her response, and she started, looking at him strangely.
“Out of curiosity, your majesty, was your midichlorian count ever taken?”
“Of course. All children born under the Republic are tested,” she replied, uncertain of his meaning. “I don’t know what mine was, but I suppose it was average.”
Obi-Wan reached into various pockets in his utility belt, snapping a few components together. When he held up the finished product it was a small object with a small needle and a projector. “This was one of Anakin’s earlier contraptions he made when he finally understood the concept of midichlorians. It’s a portable midichlorian counter. The readings are rather rough, but its proven to be accurate.”
The queen took the small object, turning it over in her hands, unsure of the various parts and cautious of the needle. Handing it back to Obi-Wan, she drew back her sleeve and offered her arm. She didn’t react at all to the pinprick, more interested in the projector that came to life, casting a glow over her face as she leaned closer. The image wavered a little, fuzzed out, and came back in again. The reading remained blue.
“What does it mean?” she questioned.
“Your count is normal, as you said-“ Obi-Wan was cut off by the machine making a curious choking noise and the image fuzzing again. The static obscured it for only a few seconds before the chart focused once more. This time a yellow ring was present, bordering the blue section of the reading.
Amidala frowned. “What is it doing now?”
“I thought so,” replied Obi-Wan cryptically. He examined it a moment longer before shutting it off. “Yours is above average.”
“I’m Force-sensitive?” Amidala said, surprised.
“Not exactly. Its under the levels needed to be accepted into the Jedi Academy, but it is abnormally high nonetheless. It might account for your good intuition… and having being chosen to be groomed for your position.”
Amidala considered this for a moment. “Do you think you could teach me to focus it a little more?” she asked timidly, a tone Obi-Wan was not used to hearing from the Queen.
“I don’t see anything wrong with it. It may serve you well in the future to be a little more receptive to the Force,” replied Obi-Wan. She simply smiled, satisfied with his answer. Obi-Wan returned the smile, masking the strange feeling he had about it, about Anakin. Something was desperately wrong with his Padawan, something he couldn’t battle alone.
It may serve you well indeed, your highness.