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"Listen up ─ there's no war that will end all wars."
Haruki Murakami, Kafka On The Shore
CORUSCANT. It always seemed to be buzzing with activity. The city-covered planet never slept. It was alive even this late at night. The stars glittered in the black sky as the hangar dome closed again, and Medea breathed in slowly. Her eyes closed momentarily, and then she exhaled. Medea didn't remember coming to Coruscant. To the extent of her memory, she had always been here. This was her home. Growing up on Coruscant was exciting. You could always spot an adventure out in the transport lanes if you looked long enough. Medea strolled away from her starship and out of the base. There was someone she had to visit before the Council called upon her.
Medea had known Padmé Amidala from before the senator and her best friend fell in love. Medea had known Padmé when she was the Queen of Naboo. Medea's Master and her had been sent on a mission there, back when Medea was only eleven. It seemed so long ago now. They had just been girls. Padmé was older, of course, but the days spent on Naboo together had given them a sense of belonging. She was one of Medea's oldest friends. And it was fate then, that Anakin Skywalker thought of Padmé as if she were an angel. He wasn't wrong. Anakin Skywalker was rarely ever wrong.
When Medea knocked on Padmé's door, she hadn't expected to find Dormé with a frown. "Is this a bad time?" Medea asked timidly. Dormé let her in and closed the doors. "Where's Padmé?"
"She's working, as always," Dormé answered in a tone that seemed full of sisterly frustration.
Medea's eyes narrowed. "What is it?" she asked. "Dormé, spill."
"She hasn't eaten," Dormé sighed and gestured to the plate of food on the table, clearly untouched. "I've been trying to get her to take a break but nooo," she sat down on the couch with a defeated thud. "When does anyone ever listen to me?"
An amused smile appeared on Medea's face. She pointed towards the office, eyebrows raised, wordlessly asking if Padmé was inside. Dormé, arms crossed and cheeks puffed, nodded. Medea's shoulders raised slightly as she grinned. "Sometimes D," she said taking the plate of food from the table and turning to go into the office, "you just have to be creative."
The doors slid open, presenting to Medea a Padmè in crisis. Oh, this was going to be harder than she expected. Medea set the plate down with a clink. "I'd be scared if I were those papers," she commented, making the senator look up from her work.
A look of surprise washed Padmé's face. "Medea!" she gasped and jumped out of her seat to embrace Medea. The red-haired girl chuckled softly as she returned the gesture. "When did you get here?" Padmè asked as they separated.
