"Hidden, safe, the children must be kept."
"And Padmé? She's barely spoken since…"
"We can't just take her children from her, Master."
"For their own protection, give them up, she must."
And she had agreed.
Side-by-side in a single cot, her children slept.
Gently, so as not to wake them, Padmé ran her fingertips over each brow, each nose, each tiny pair of lips. First Luke, her firstborn, her beloved son. She had known all along she would have a boy. Then Leia, her unexpected gift, her cherished daughter. Anakin had insisted it was a girl…
She memorized every detail, every flutter of their eyelids, the gentle whisper of their breath, the softness of their skin. The downy hair on Leia's head was already thick and dark, while Luke's was fair and golden - just like, she imagined, his father's would have been.
Many things will change, Ani. But my caring for you will always remain.
She placed her index finger in Leia's right hand, her little finger in Luke's left. Both babies instinctively closed their fingers around hers. Each grip was firm, but Padmé knew she could easily break them.
And she wept, because she would have to.
With her free hand, she held the edge of the cot for support. Her legs shook as she sobbed, gasping for air. It was as if the heat of Mustafar had never left her, as if the pressure on her throat had never been released.
Anakin, Anakin, what have you done.
He had never been able to let go, and it had ruined them. He had broken her, destroyed himself, left nothing but ashes and death. And now, because of him, she would give away the only treasures left to her. Her beautiful, precious children.
The door behind her opened quietly. It was time.
Carefully extracting her hand, she steadied herself, but made no move to wipe the tears from her eyes. She picked up Luke, who barely stirred. Such a sound sleeper already, how lucky his mother is. She held him close, kissed the top of his head, and turned towards the door.
Bail and Obi-Wan stood there, waiting.
"Goodbye, my light," she whispered to the child in her arms. Then she handed him to the Jedi.
"Padmé," Obi-Wan said gently, "I am sorry," and a part of her own grief was mirrored in his eyes. He settled Anakin's son against his body, wrapping his own cloak around him. He will be safe.
She turned back to the cot, and picked up Leia, who was beginning to fuss. She kissed her daughter, swaying gently, but the child was not soothed.
"Goodbye, my heart," she whispered as she handed her little girl to her friend.
Leia began to cry, and Bail settled her against his shoulder. He looked at her with wonder and obvious affection, then turned to Padmé again. "Thank you," he said, and Leia's cries quieted as he rubbed gentle circles on her back. She will be loved.
Her children had never been apart. She had carried them together, cared for them together all their short lives. Now, they might never be together again.
Bail and Obi-Wan turned to leave.
She wanted to say something to stop them. How she wanted to make them stop, to take her children back, to never let them out of her sight. But that was Anakin's weakness. It would not be hers. She said nothing.
In a moment, they were gone, and she was alone. She sank to the floor beside the now empty cot and continued to weep.
They will be safe. They will be loved. What more could a mother want for her children?
Oh, to hold them in her arms.
She had been strong enough to let her children go. Now, she had no more strength left.
Anakin, my love, what have you done to us.