Amidala had spent decades upon decades bringing spring, yet every time filled her with as much joy as if it was her first.

She watched them all with gladness once her work was done—the children picking the newly sprouted flowers and bringing them to their mothers, birds chirping as they hopped between lush branches, the soft sound of harvest in the mornings. Those moments made the long days in the fields worth it.

It was that time once again. She would be spending the next few months in the mortal realm, resting as little as possible until springtime had arrived and harvest time was complete. Amidala rose before the sun and her nymph handmaidens set her hair and applied her makeup as they did each morning. After all of these years the layers were practically her second skin. When Amidala was dressed in her traditional red, the group set off for the mortal realm.

The harvest goddess took a deep breath as soon as her chariot touched ground. In truth she felt more comfortable amidst the woodlands and fields in this realm than she did on Mount Olympus. Of course she loved Mount Olympus, but after awhile the golden splendor became so stifling compared with the mortal world. Earth was her true domain.

"Do you think we can finish this region by nightfall?" Dorme asked as Amidala leaned down to touch the ground. The moment her fingers made contact with the dirt, snowy white blossoms burst from the earth, racing towards the sky.

Amidala looked up at her friend. "I think so," she responded carefully. "We should probably split up so we can cover more ground."

Dorme nodded. "As you say, my lady."

"And don't get distracted by the satyrs this time," Amidala said, unable to put any real reprimand in her tone.

Dorme's expression was one of perfect innocence. "They were distracted by me, my lady. I was simply telling them to leave so I could continue your work."

"Of course, Dorme."

They all set off in separate directions then, Amidala sending her magic out and her handmaidens spreading it through the area, the earth shifting from greys and browns to vibrant greens and yellows as they passed.

Before long Amidala reached a small meadow hidden in a grove of willows and cypresses. She was intent on her task, only vaguely registering the pounding waterfall, singing birds, and distant sounds of the nymphs calling to one another when she felt something unusual—a subtle but unmistakable change in the air. It was like a weight had suddenly dropped onto her shoulders. Someone was nearby, watching her—she was certain of it. Amidala looked around and was startled to realize she couldn't hear her handmaidens anymore, even faintly. She hadn't meant to get this far from them.

"Is someone there?" Amidala scanned the trees, trying to reassure herself it was Dorme or Sabe playing a joke or even a lurking satyr, but she knew in her bones the presence was none of them. As an immortal, few things could truly hurt her, but she had heard enough stories about harm coming to even gods she thought it best to be cautious.

She turned back to the meadow and was startled at the sight of a man standing amidst the grasses.

Amidala had met all of the other gods and goddesses on Mount Olympus (or so she believed until now) but in all of their magnificence none had affected her like this. She had a ridiculous urge to shield her eyes. All at once the man before her was brilliant as a supernova and memorizing as a black hole.

And his eyes, deeper blue than any lake or ocean she had ever seen, were gazing at her in a strange way, rather like he was a worshipper at one of her temples and she had just appeared before him.

She thought he might be a mirage until he spoke.

"Are you a siren?" Despite his towering figure, his voice was soft, barely rising over the whisper of wind rustling through the grass. Somehow it didn't quite suit him.

"What?"

"A siren. They're the most beautiful creatures in the realms. They live on the islands of Sirenum Scopuli, I believe."

"I thought they were part bird?" Amidala frowned. "Or was it part fish?"

"Only some of them," he replied.

"How do you know so much?" Amidala inquired, torn between her curiosity and the impulse to return to the familiar. This man was an immortal, that much was clear, but she had never seen him on Olympus. She would certainly have remembered him.

He shrugged. "I hear the ravens talking about them. Their songs can put even the strongest of men in a trance. But right now I'm more curious about what you're doing so far from Mount Olympus?"

"This is my duty," she told him proudly. "I'm Amidala, bringer of the spring."

He nodded, recognition sparking in his eyes. "Your work is quite lovely," he said. "I wish I could see it more often."

That was an odd thing to say. "Why have I never seen you before?" Amidala inquired. "Even on Mount Olympus?"

His expression faltered for a moment then became smooth once again. "That's because I don't live there. I live in the underworld."

Padme recoiled and if she hadn't been so shocked she might have run. Of course she had heard of Vader and seen the temples built in his honor. The hooded figure embellishing the walls looked nothing like the handsome young man in front of her—it was dark and looming, a shadow forever overlooking the mortal realm.

Mortals wouldn't say his name for fear of drawing his attention, instead calling him 'Anakin' meaning 'warrior.' Even the other Olympians were reluctant to bring him up, only speaking of him in whispers.

"You're Vader?"

She knew her shock and most likely her fear were written all over her face. He moved to take a step closer to her then paused. "I am," he said, his voice still hypnotically soft. "Someone needs to manage the dead, and it was the task I received."

That was reasonable. Someone did need to watch over the underworld, and it wasn't Vader's fault that was the job he had been given.

Amidala's curiously was proving victorious over her fear. "What is it like there?"

He shrugged. "A little dark, a bit on the gloomy side, but the company is quite spirited."

Amidala laughed, surprising herself and a flock of small birds that promptly took off at the sound. "What are you doing up here now?" She asked, feeling a bit more at ease.

"I was on my way to Mount Olympus, actually. There's a meeting to discuss the state of affairs on earth."

Amidala nodded. Only the seven original Olympians participated in such meetings, but many (Amidala included) had pushed for them to expand and include more gods. After all, the state of the mortal world affected them all and the more that were involved in making decisions the better everyone would be. "Good."

Vader raised his eyebrows, an action which made him look significantly less intimidating. "Do you think so?"

"Of course," she replied, startled at his lack of enthusiasm. "You don't?"

"After a millennia of doing this, I've determined that the system just doesn't work. No matter how many meetings we call nothing really gets decided. Everyone is always fighting and disagreeing just to spite one another. Look at what happened with the Trojans. Olympus was practically at war with itself."

"We shouldn't have taken sides in a human conflict at all but we let our emotions get in the way and everything went to chaos," Amidala retorted. "With proper communication and discussions none of that would have happened."

"Everyone was looking out for their own interests," Vader argued. "We need a strong leader to keep everyone focused and stop anything like that from happening again."

"Who would do this? You?" She demanded, shocked at the ease with which he spoke against their entire system.

"Of course not me," he scoffed. "Someone else. Someone wise."

He was watching her in that intent way of his again, lips curved up slightly at the edges, eyes glittering like a sun-drenched lake.

Amidala stood to her full height to meet his gaze as well as she could. He was practically a Titan he was so tall. "You're making fun of me."

"No, I would be much too frightened to tease a harvest goddess. I might be left without grain for all eternity."

His joking was at her expense, but she laughed anyway, as much at the thought of the underworld god being intimidated by anyone as with his own infectious laugh. It was difficult to stay angry when she heard that bright sound.

She had been unfair to him earlier, Amidala realized. He may be the king of the underworld, but he had done nothing to threaten her or warrant her open hostility. "I am sorry for my reaction before," she told him. "You just weren't what I expected."

He smiled at that. "It's alright. I'm never what anyone expects. You can call me Anakin if you like," he added. "It was my—original name. Before I was made lord of the underworld. Many still prefer it."

"And which name do you prefer?" Amidala was unable to stop herself from asking.

"I've never really thought about it," he admitted. "Anakin, I suppose."

Amidala considered him for a moment. "Anakin it is, then. I think it suits you."

There was a pause filled by the babbling brook nearby. Despite the cool morning air, Amidala felt flushed. More than ever, she was grateful for the makeup covering her face.

It suddenly dawned on Amidala how high the sun was now compared to when she had stopped to talk to Anakin. It was getting late, and she still had so much to do before the harvest.

"I suppose I should probably go," Amidala said, surprised when the thought of leaving him filled her with sadness. Nothing had been able to tear her from her duty this long before. "I'm glad to have met you, Anakin."

"I was glad to meet you too," he called as she turned away.

Amidala left the clearing without looking back, their conversation already feeling like a dream. She wondered if she would see Anakin again, and if she did would it even be in this millennium? And more to the point, did she want to see him again? Amidala wasn't quite certain of her answer, but she supposed it didn't much matter either way. They both had their duties in separate realms, and it was unlikely their paths could cross for long.

It was always something of an occasion when Vader left the underworld. To mark it, he wore his finest black robes and had Threepio prepare his fastest chariot. If he was going to the upper realms, he might as well look the part.

Today his destination was Mount Olympus and his purpose was to see his brother Obi Wan, well half-brother—technically—and the rest of the high gods on Mount Olympus to discuss the earth's affairs as they did once every fifty years or so.

Though the underworld god would never admit it, he was fond of his brother in his own way, even if he was equally fond of getting a rise out of the old man.

The rest of them, Vader had little to no use for. He knew most pitied him for drawing the lot that made him lord of the underworld and all that came with it—including a home right in the heart of the deepest pit in hell.

Admittedly there were days when the wailing waifs and rattling chains and infinite darkness grated on him until he longed to fly away from it all and go somewhere else, anywhere else, but at the same time the crowd on Mount Olympus was a dull lot. They were eternally bickering with mortals and each other over who was the best—the strongest, the fastest, the most beautiful—obsessively watching sacrifices and temples erected in their honor, their wrath raining down on defenseless mortals when offerings were deemed not worthy enough.

He had no doubt that a few days with those egomaniacs would have him begging for his spot in the underworld once again.

But business was business, and if he needed to go up every once in awhile to ensure those fools didn't destroy everything they were supposed to reign over, so be it. His kingdom always grew considerably when the Olympians were left completely unchecked. Take Troy, for example.

There was no chance of any Olympian gods coming down to see him in his own kingdom—with the exception of Palpatine when he had a rare break and Vader's doting older brother about once a century but even he couldn't manage to stay long—and for the most part that was how Vader liked it. For all of their talk, few Olympians could actually handle being in the heart of death.

He was racing through the clouds as quickly as his horses could take him, enjoying the feeling of wind on his face and marveling at how green the earth was (it was easy to forget colors other than black when you spent most of your time below the surface) when he saw her.

As an immortal, most moments were forgotten practically as they happened. With an infinite number of moments to live, almost all of them held nothing of interest. Days went by like mere seconds for gods, and months and even years rushed past them like water over pebbles.

But perhaps once or twice a millennium even a god would experience a moment so significant and vivid it jolted them from their endless existence and almost awakened them from their immortality, becoming engrained on their memories like a fresco on a temple wall.

For Vader, this moment was one of those.

She was thousands of shards of light, brighter than every constellation he could remember. She was the ocean he had played in so long ago, both soothing and frightening in its infinity.

He was so used to the dead, used to darkness and to suffering that even when he was not in their presence they still clung to him. But when he looked at her the pain faded and the world was suddenly in sharp focus. In that precious instant Vader knew that this celestial creature in the meadow was the only woman for him.

Mount Olympus and the meeting forgotten, he couldn't stop himself from going down to talk to her, at least for a little while. He hadn't spoken to anyone other than his servants, the dead, and the other high gods in longer than he cared to remember, but he thought he did well, all things considered. Nymphs and goddesses tended to turn the other way when they saw him approaching and mortals preferred to think of him only when necessary, so overall Vader had little experience in the ways of sweet words and knowing smiles. But Amidala hadn't seemed to mind.

Now she was gone and he was back on his chariot, racing toward Olympus and formulating a plan. The proper course of action was to ask the other high gods permission to court Amidala. No match could happen without their blessing, as much as it pained Vader to admit that. And Amidala would be more likely to accept his attentions if he went through the formalities. She respected the gods' traditions, after all. And if she still didn't accept his attentions...well, he would handle one concern at a time.

Amidala was already drawn to him, that much was clear. Like most she feared the lord of the underworld, and her terrified expression when she realized his identity still burned. But he would show her that she had nothing to fear from him. His occupation didn't exactly lend itself to gentleness, but he could be kind and gentle and loving if he only reminded himself how. Amidala deserved nothing less.

Determined, he sped on.

Another presence drifted on the edges of the meadow, unknown to the two immortals standing there. Dark smoke moved among the trees, the shape twisting until it formed a man.

The shadow watched the exchange before him with pleasure. He had waited patiently for a thousand lifetimes for an opportunity like this to present itself. At last, he had his chance. The Olympians had finally grown complacent in their power and the pair in the meadow didn't know it yet, but they would be the catalyst in tearing their kingdom down.

If there was anything he had learned in his time among mortals and gods alike, love was as effective a weapon as any spear if wielded correctly.

A/N: Yes, I know the siren line isn't as good as the original angel line, but Anakin is doing the best he can with what he's got. Please review!