A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars.

I didn't want to go to your funeral, you know.

Why would I have? You lied to me, Padme. When you first got into the whole politics thing, and the war began, I made you promise you wouldn't do something rash.

I almost refused, and I probably would not be here today if it weren't for the look Mom gave me. She looked so sad, and broken, her age truly showing for once in her life.

You were always their favorite, Padme. You were always the smart one, the kind one, the pretty one. The one with a promising career in politics.

You never let anything unjust happen. When you were seven, there was this one boy in your class at school who always got picked. You stood up for him, even though it meant that you were then the person everyone teased.

I have to admit, you even impressed me a little. When you were little, and Mom and Dad would ask who had broken the cup, or who had knocked Dad's medal off of the wall, you wouldn't be afraid to stand up and say that you were the one who did it, and therefore, you should be punished.

You weren't perfect, we all knew that. You were impatient, you hated waiting for anything.

And you had a crush on that Jedi Knight.

What was his name? Ana-something? I only met him in person once, but that was enough to know how much you liked him. And any time after when you talked about him, your cheeks would grow all red, and you would look guilty.

That's why I can't say I was surprised when we found out you were pregnant. I said the words in my head over and over, but I felt no shock. Mom and Dad were the opposite, however. Mom started to cry, and Dad looked downright mad at whoever the father was.

But what surprised us all was what they told us after.

You were dead.

I can't say that I really believed it until I saw you, lying in that casket, eerily still. I always thought that you would die after me. After all, it only made sense. You were my baby sister, and I was supposed to look after you.

I failed that, Padme. I've never failed anything in my life before, but now I've failed the things that really mattered.

I've failed my baby sister by not keeping her safe.

I've failed Mom and Dad by letting their little girl die.

I've failed my daughters by showing them I broke a promise-one of the things I told them to always keep.

I've failed my husband by showing him that I couldn't take care of my own sister, much less a family.

I've failed Naboo by letting their former queen die.

I've failed the galaxy by letting one of their last hopes in these dark times -my sister- die.

And finally, I have failed myself by letting my kid sister die.

I didn't want to go to your funeral, you know. I didn't think I could have stood the grief that would have awaited me there. The grief that was inflicted on so many people because of one broken promise.

Mine.

I'm sorry, Padme. I hope you'll forgive me. I know I wouldn't.