Believe In Yesterday
She isn't the woman she was yesterday. She's been rebuilt, bit by bit, like a machine. Put together bolt by bolt and nut by nut until not a piece remains. Like that old story about the ship with all the parts replaced. Is it the same ship?
She doesn't know.
Padmé had never known an identity crisis. It would be beyond her to remember when she had felt that first rush of ambition and drive, but she could have only been a scarce few years. That pounding, moving force had woven through her, infiltrating her entire core and filling her up like a mug of hot water. She wanted to do, and to do everything. Her father had once said, with a gentle smile, that Padmé didn't know the meaning of "halfway". He had probably been right.
Perhaps she never would have needed encouragement, but she could never deny that her parents' support had increased her drive. Her mother, especially, would remind her the importance of helping "those in misfortune", and she attached herself fiercely to that goal. Hardly a breath escaped her mouth without being colored by her demanding care. Sometimes she imagined that how she felt about herself, her ambition and identity, was something like what a mother felt for a child. If so, then the galaxy was its twin.
Those two loves occupied her thoughts and energy. Of course, as any young woman would, she had her beaus and lovers, but they never managed to shake her roots. Padmé was as deeply connected to herself as ever, and though kisses were stolen, her heart was not. At that time, she had not understood what the songs meant when they described a sweeping passion, a love for a lifetime. She loved in her own way, and that was simply that.
"Ambition" may have been the wrong word. She felt no more than a hint of sorrow when it was time for her to step down from the queenship, and not a little relief. It was not the power she desired, but the growth. Like a tree, she might have reached her height, but the growth continuing in her core lent her strength. In Padmé's eyes, her life was all going according to plan.
Her falling in love with a Jedi, on the other hand, was not.
Her relationship with Anakin felt rather like taking a step every day to the edge of an invisible precipice. Nearer and nearer she came, and she never knew the point of no return until she was past it. He bled into her life irresistibly. Eventually, she had to face the fact that removing Anakin from her life would be an operation from which she could never recover, and she had no choice but to let it be.
Padmé had probably always had that impulsive spirit within her, but his presence only multiplied it. She swore to herself over and over again that she would not pursue their relationship, would not let things get out of hand. It seemed like a split second passed before their marriage.
At the time, she did see how much Anakin was changing. Though their times together were often few and far-between, she could almost sense the discrepancy even in his absence. Yet, again, she had passed the precipice, and her happiness was now paramount on his existence and well-being. Willfully, then, she closed her eyes to the sunset passing over him. She rested in his arms.
It is only now that she is able to see that she was turning, as well. Not to the Dark Side, but she had still become something alien to herself. Her dying heart chills at this thought, and her skin pricks with Anakin's pain. Padmé feels now that the hurt that he caused her was only the smallest fraction of what he feels. It almost makes her dizzy.
How fitting, Padmé thinks as her consciousness fades, that her will should bring forth life even as she loses hers. Her last breath she spends on a silent prayer to whatever may be there, a prayer for every child in this dark universe no matter how old. She gives it all she has.