A/N Thanks for the reviews for those of you who left some. Nothing much else to report except...if you're reading this, could you please let me know? These chapters take hours and hours to write.
Looking back, Lady Amidala knew that there was very little she could have done differently to keep her circumstances from unraveling. But even though this knowledge was hardly a comfort, it was the only justification she had for denying Leia's true identity, for waiting for someone who had been sentenced by the galaxy's highest courts, for forgetting that Luke even existed. How she ached for her circumstances to change, how she wanted the pieces of her carefully constructed life to fall back into place. But her life was in tatters. It was permanently torn. The agreement she had made with the Jedi Council was the only way to keep Leia with her, and even then she barely had the security of their promise. No attachments they had said, or Leia would become too much like the father they had exiled. No attachments they had said, or they would take Leia away from her, make sure she would never be touched by anything outside the Temple. She had been taught that time healed all wounds, and so Lady Amidala waited, she waited for that to become true.
With time, she had thought, things would become easier. The truth could be forgotten and life could be accepted. But with time, she learned, the truth became harder to forget and easier to remember. She was not known throughout the galaxy for her personal choices, but only for her personal sacrifices. She was not known for the harshness of her own world, but the easy justice she exerted among her people. On the nights when she wept bitterly into her pillow, Lady Amidala knew that she had received anything but mercy in her own life.
It was with a heavy heart, with a sinking one, that Lady Amidala passed her days. The decision had been made so long ago, when she had nothing left but what she was. Escape into what she was, the Senator of the Chommell Sector, was the only way to leave Padmé Naberrie behind. Because she didn't want to remember who she was or what she did. She didn't want to remember the motherless daughter she was raising or the son she was leaving behind. It was too much hurt for one person to bear.
But Leia was a physical reminder of what she had done. One-half of her legacy to the galaxy. A broken inheritance to be given. Lady Amidala held her at arm's length, fearful of the Jedi Council and its warning. Although Leia lived in her primary Nubian residence in the Lake Country, Lady Amidala rarely saw her. When she did, she only asked her about her studies, and to satisfy her own curiosity, she asked about her happiness. Even if Leia replied that she was happy, if she was content, Lady Amidala knew that she was anything but at peace. She had gotten her curiosity from her father, curiosity that could only lead to things that she would not want to hear, that Lady Amidala would not want to tell her. Inquisitiveness that would lead her into the custody of the Jedi Order.
Fearful of Leia's future, of the part she might play in it, Lady Amidala threw herself even more into her work. She began to spend more time in Coruscant and less time in the Lake Country, that place that was to her the most precious in the galaxy, that place she had hoped would be a home for picnics and family outings. Because her dearest place in the galaxy was also the greatest reminder of what she had done. The second greatest reminder, the greatest reminder had brown hair and eyes to match.
The older she grew, the more Leia looked like her mother, and the more people started asking questions. The more Leia started asking questions about her family. Even a child knew that she had a place in the world, even an orphan. It was then that Lady Amidala did the one thing that would protect her from the Jedi Order and would shelter her from whispers and questions. The one thing that would give Lady Amidala an excuse to escape the constant reminder of what Leia was, to leave her behind in protection on Naboo—she became the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.
She left Leia with a few servants and her tutor on Naboo. She quietly asked Sabé to watch over her, protect her, keep her from the prying eyes of the people, of the Jedi. Sabé complied. At thirteen, Leia was only one standard year younger than Lady Amidala had been when she had become queen of a planet. At thirteen, Leia was more sheltered than Lady Amidala had ever been, but if Leia was anything like her mother, she would find a way to break out of her shell of ignorance. If Leia was anything like her father, she would find away to escape the shroud of loneliness, to run away among the stars. Lady Amidala monitored Leia's progress from the other side of the galaxy.
Sabé sent Lady Amidala weekly reports on Leia's progress…on her studies, her personality, her hopes, her dreams. Lady Amidala knew that Sabé did not approve of her methods or the manner in which she was raising Leia. But Sabé did not know the whole story either or completely understand what had passed. So Leia remained on Naboo even on the day she slammed the door on her tutor and cried herself to sleep, even on the day she began studying history with the cunning of a politician. But Leia could not ever become a queen or a senator. The mistakes of her parents would never allow that to happen. The only role Lady Amidala could assign Leia was handmaiden, but not yet, never yet. She worried about the clutches of the Jedi Order.
Even as she escaped Leia's presence on Naboo, Lady Amidala was thrown into the presence of someone she never thought she would meet, never dared hoped to see. His name was Luke.
Everyday, as she saw the Jedi Temple from her office, Lady Amidala hoped and dreamed. And every day, as she saw the Jedi Temple from her office, Lady Amidala's hopes and dreams were ground into dust. She refused an audience with Master Kenobi, with Master Windu, with Master Mundi, with Master Gallia. But she summoned Master Yoda into her own presence, the weight of her position cushioning her from anything the Council might do to her. Lady Amidala gently demanded that she see Luke Starkiller. To her surprise and relief, Master Yoda did not refuse her. He looked at her with his great green eyes, and Lady Amidala saw that they were filled with as much sadness as her own.
Within the year, Luke Starkiller was added to her protection detail, as he grew older, his assignments to her became more regularly scheduled. He protected her without the supervision of his master or of any of his superiors. Lady Amidala ached with the wish she could have protected him from all that she had done. It was an odd reversal of roles that she hadn't expected would come to pass.
And as Luke Starkiller passed into his nineteenth standard year, as Lady Amidala watched him when he wasn't watching her, she saw reflected in his face Leia's hurt, and Lady Amidala remembered her ward and remembered the dreams she had once had for her motherless daughter. Leia could never be a queen, but Leia could become a handmaiden.
She saw that Leia's presence on the capital had opened her world into the infinite possibilities that Leia never suspected. And some she never knew were being pushed her way. The galaxy was suddenly at her fingertips. As Leia reacquainted herself with her household, and was introduced into the petty politics of the Chancellor's office, Lady Amidala orchestrated her meetings with Luke. She quietly encouraged interaction between the two. She told herself they could comfort each other, console each other, learn about each other. Bridge the gaps between their lives.
She knew they spoke when they supposed her to be sleeping. She knew Leia confided in him and he in her. She knew that Leia enjoyed his company even if she was uneasy in the presence of his master. Leia had as much reason as she to feel discomfort in Master Kenobi's presence. And because of his presence, Lady Amidala kept Leia at an arm's length until she did something, anything, that would give her an excuse to bring her closer. That justification came in the form of Han Solo.
Lady Amidala saw Leia take her opportunity and ensured she would have success, requiring the presence of Luke on her mission. If only Leia knew how much more she was accomplishing, if she knew how she was tying together the pieces of the past with the threads of the future. Poor, sheltered, beautiful Leia went to Corellia, and she succeeded. And Lady Amidala brought her closer, one step in, not into the world of her heart but into the universe that was her mind.
She taught Leia even when Leia didn't understand that she was being taught. She showed Leia how to temper justice with mercy, to be compassionate under pressure, to move the pieces of the political game board, what the purpose was in the spying of the Hutts. Lady Amidala did not tell Leia everything, but the things she did tell her took root and grew. And Leia came to understand the politics surrounding her and the Chancellor. Most of all, Lady Amidala taught Leia about the Jedi. They were necessary, they were protectors, but their beliefs could never be understood. Not even by themselves. Their Code was law. And without realizing it, she shared with Leia part of her heart, and a piece of her past.
The life she had created for herself afforded her no adventure, no surprises. She attended Senate debates, committee meetings, political affairs. She spent her time in the company of Vice-Chancellor Mon Mothma and her ally, Viceroy Organa. She avoided the Senator of the Chommell Sector whose home-planet was Naboo, even to the point of refusing meetings with the Senator. She spoke to the Jedi only when absolutely necessary. She watched over Luke and oversaw Leia's daily schedule. She quietly encouraged Leia to get close the smuggler Solo. It served the purpose of fulfilling the promise she had made a long time ago to a little boy about the Hutts. But she also saw that Leia enjoyed his company even if she refused to say so. Lady Amidala wanted Leia to be as happy as she possibly could. And Leia's life might have been a happy one if not for the day Master Yoda came.
He came with his gimmer stick and drooping shoulders into her personal quarters, and Lady Amidala suddenly knew that her past had suddenly become her present. Behind closed doors, she finally heard the news she had waited for twenty-two years to hear. He was alive and had been brought back to Coruscant and even now was secluded in the Jedi Temple. Master Yoda warned her that He had been touched by darkness, that He was not the same man who had embraced the light. Master Yoda sadly told her that the Council no longer knew what to do with Him.
His crime had been a forbidden attachment, a love that would be preserved at all costs. He had been sent to right his wrongs, sentenced to isolation on Mustafar. Because He had not chosen a side on which to stand. Even after twenty-two years, He still opposed the Jedi Code, the laws which were the very foundation of the Order. It was something the Council could not tolerate. It was something the Council would not tolerate. He was attached as ever, and He was making demands. Demands that should not be met.
Lady Amidala begged. Lady Amidala pleaded. Lady Amidala demanded. Lady Amidala threatened. Lady Amidala broke down and cried at the feet of the Jedi Master. And Master Yoda would still not relent. She saw how his eyes were filled with regret, how his ears wilted until they reached his shoulders. Master Yoda told her that He was well and summoned her to the Council Chambers at sunrise in three standard days. There was much to be discussed. And as Lady Amidala saw him out the door, saw him look at Leia intently, saw him go back to the fortress of the Jedi Temple, she became aware that Master Yoda viewed Leia's life as a price that should not have been paid.
She waited anxiously for three days, her worry hidden underneath a mask of serenity. She confided in no one and nothing, not even in Sabé who knew more of her story than nearly any other being in the galaxy. Instead, when the third day came, she took Leia with her to the sacred halls of the Jedi Temple, and wondered if the Temple would feel like home to Leia or like a prison from which had escaped. She wondered if the Masters would question Leia on her attachments, if they would question her about her past, if they would allow her to know the truth.
Lady Amidala entered the Council Chambers alone, and stood in the center of the room. She saw stony faces and set jaws. She saw the past come back again. They told her what had happened in the wilderness on Mustafar, how He had changed, how He had become more of a threat than ever. They wanted to know what she thought of His request to see His family. And when they asked her what she thought, she knew that she had come here without the power of her position, without the cushion of politics. They asked her and her alone what she wanted.
She replied that the only thing that kept Him anchored to the light was His family. She asked to see Him. They refused. She asked for Him to see Leia. They refused. She asked for Him to be released into her custody. They refused again. She asked for Him to be released from the Jedi Code, from the law that bound them all until they were bleeding from their bindings. They said no.
Lady Amidala lapsed into silence and anger. She wanted to weep with frustration. But tears had never gotten her anything but more heartache. She looked into the face of Master Yoda and saw that he seemed as confused as her. She glanced as Master Kenobi and realized that he was pained by the situation and by his part in it. They argued among themselves, debated the merits and the downfalls of His proposal before she was dismissed. She left the Council chambers one last time, and left an unspoken dream in the Jedi Temple.
As she walked the halls of theTemple one last time, she felt His presence, His eyes upon her and upon Leia. She knew that was impossible. It was only a mirage, an illusion. She went back to her apartment and dismissed her appointments for the rest of the standard day. She even forgot to check on Leia and her thoughts on her Temple excursion.
Leia was pushed further from her mind when the Senator of the Chommell Sector came to visit Lady Amidala in her personal rooms. Another part of her past came crashing into her present. It was a slap in the face.
Pooja Naberrie presumed much about the personal life of the Chancellor, presumed to tell her what her family thought, what her mother wanted. Lady Amidala shouted at the Nubian politician. She told her to mind her own business, that her family knew nothing about want or sacrifice, that her family knew nothing about the Jedi. Lady Naberrie told her to let the past go, to forget about Him, to tell her daughter the truth. To let her daughter live her own life, not to exist in the shadow of her mother's. Lady Amidala ordered Lady Naberrie out of her apartments. She told her that the only family she had left was in pieces, pieces that were beyond her power to reconstruct. She couldn't do it without Him. With that last revelation, Lady Naberrie left, glancing at Leia as she did so. Of course she would. She was curious. They were cousins after all.
Lady Amidala spent the night arguing with herself. She spent the night remembering. Looking in the mirror, she remembered how old she was, how much time had passed, how much she had missed, all the memories she could have made. The Lake Country. Naboo. Tattooine. She clutched the jappor snippet to her heart, taking it out from its hiding place. She shattered the mirror with her hairbrush, so she wouldn't have to look at herself, so wouldn't be reminded. She didn't sleep that night.
At dawn, Leia came to check on Lady Amidala. She pretended to be asleep, she didn't want to see Leia; she didn't want to be reminded. Because Leia looked too much like her father. Eventually, Leia must have sensed her discomfort because she requested to join Solo on his next mission. It was with relief that Lady Amidala gave her permission. Leia's absence would give her time to figure out her next move.
Leia was gone for three months. During that time, Lady Amidala became even more aware of Luke's presence in her life, and of the Naberries' ignorance of his existence. They believed she could mend everything in a few simple steps. What if the Jedi took Luke away from her too? He was one of them, but he also belonged to her. He was her guard, her defender. He was her son.
Lady Amidala thought about her predicament for one standard month. She mourned her circumstances. She looked across Coruscant to the looming spires of the Jedi Temple. He was so close, yet He was so far away. They were worlds apart.
She kept the galaxy in order and the Hutts in check. She did the necessary and mundane business that kept the Republic running. But the more she became absorbed in what she was, the more she remembered who she was. And who He was too. One night, when sleep would not consume her, when she thought she would break into pieces, like the pulling apart of petals from a shua flower, she thought about Him. And like a wish that was finally answered, He was there on her balcony.
He was as she remembered only a little older. His eyes were still blue and his hair still blonde. He wore black Jedi robes, his lightsaber clipped to his belt. He looked at her with longing.
For one moment, Lady Amidala didn't think, didn't wonder, didn't hope. In one breath, she said his name, "Anakin," and rushed into his arms.
"Padmé," he whispered into her hair, holding her close against his body. This was no dream. This was no mirage. And she kissed him just to be sure he was really there, and a moment later, she felt him kissing her back.
She lost herself in the moment, and even as Coruscant buzzed with its nightly activity, she forgot the rest of the galaxy. But when her passion waned, and he held her in his arms, she remembered their children.
"What will they do to us?" Padmé asked.
"To us or to our children?" he responded gently.
"Our family," she replied. "I don't want them to take the little I have left."
"They won't," he said firmly.
"How do you know?"
He sighed and kissed her on the cheek before rising, pulling his dark robe over himself. As he stared out the balcony, he answered her. "Obi-Wan is the reason I am here tonight. And Sabé," he finished with a small smile. "Obi-Wan sees the need for change in the Jedi Order, and so does Master Yoda. They are wary of me, but they do not fear me."
"Should I be afraid of you?" she asked, wrapping herself in sheets before going to join him.
"Never," he breathed. "But what happened to me on Mustafar…it cannot be explained, only understood."
"Understand what, Anakin?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"That I have been touched by darkness," he explained gently.
"But there is light in you," she protested. "I know there is."
"I have been brushed by both, and that is what the Jedi fear. The unknown." Anakin sighed. "I wish I could explain it to Luke. Maybe he would understand the balance I have now."
"Does he know who you are?" Padmé's voice was small, afraid of the answer.
"He has been told my crime. He seen me confined in the Temple. He has been told to be wary of me."
"So he doesn't know you are his father." Padmé's shoulders sagged with this information.
He lifted her chin with his hand. "And Leia doesn't know you are her mother even if she does suspect. I sensed her in the Temple."
"How?" Padmé asked uncertainly.
"Never mind how. What matters is what we are going to do about it."
"What do you want me to do?" she asked. She would do anything for him, go with him to the ends of space. She wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
"Leave Coruscant and come with me Padmé. Bring our children. Let's tell them the truth together." Anakin looked out at the stars that covered Coruscant's night sky. His face was filled with longing.
"But I'm Chancellor now," Padmé admitted. "I can't just leave that behind."
"Come with me to Naboo, to the Lake Country with Luke and Leia. Let's be a family together," he pleaded. Padmé looked at his face, and knew that she could not say no.
"Tell me everything," she asked. And he did.
Afterwards, Padmé made plans. She spoke her dreams aloud to Anakin, and she saw that they were his dreams to. She asked for time, and he gave it to her. The outside world could not ever know what had happened. Because the outside world could never truly understand. In time, Leia might and perhaps even Luke would know, really know what had passed, but in the meantime, Padmé waited for Leia to come back from her mission and observed Luke as he watched over with his guarded eyes. She knew that he more than anyone in the galaxy, Luke had the most to be angry about, the most misgivings about her story. In the end, she knew that she would end up begging Luke for forgiveness.
Padmé put her affairs in order. She whispered in Sabé's ear that her time on Coruscant was coming to an end. She quietly made sure that Mon Mothma was ready for the position in which she was about to be thrust. She called for several important votes in the Senate, most of which were about dealing with the Hutts. And while she waited, Anakin came to visit her in the darkness of the night, his hooded cloak obscuring his face, whispering to her that they had allies in unexpected places.
When Leia came back, Padmé put the last pieces on the gameboard into play. Then she called for Master Yoda and asked that Luke accompany her back to Naboo. He agreed without hesitation, and he said that Luke would be at her disposal for the rest of her days. She heard the double meaning in his words. In the weeks before she left, she made sure Leia was seen as her favorite, she reminded her household that Leia was her ward. And then she left with Leia and Luke, at a speed so quick that it left little time for anyone to think too much about her plans.
It was a quiet trip back to Naboo. Leia was distracted by something or perhaps someone. The mission she had returned from, had left her close to Han Solo, Padmé knew, but just how close they had become, she didn't quite know. She suspected something had had happened between Solo and Leia. Luke was not distracted, but he was concerned. Supreme Chancellors of the Galactic Republic did not merely resign because of personal issues. Padmé knew his feelings made him suspicious, but how much he knew, she was unsure of.
Luke landed in the Lake Country of Naboo, not far from Padmé's primary Nubian residence. She nodded gently as he asked to check the perimeter. She saw that Leia's face was white with anguish, and she mourned when Leia called this house her prison. Padmé pleaded with her for one last journey inside the homes of the mansion. She begged Leia, and Leia reluctantly complied.
She took a nervous Luke and curious Leia into the drawing room where Anakin waited for them. She aw he instantly brightened in her presence, but when Padmé shook her head that she had not told him, that her children still didn't know who their father was, he was sad again. For the first time, the four family members spoke to each other. And then Padmé urged them to sit down, to make themselves comfortable while she told her story. And as she weaved her tale, she saw understanding dawn in Luke's eyes and familiarity glimmer in Leia's.
In the days after she had finished her story, she spoke to her children. On her knees, she begged Luke for forgiveness. He said that there was no need for begging. Forgiveness had already been given. But even as he mouthed the words, Padmé saw that he fingered the lightsaber clipped onto his belt and that confusion consumed his heart.
Leia was a different matter. The Chancellor she had known for so long had suddenly become her mother. Suddenly, there was a new way of speaking, a new way of acting, a new way of thinking. Padmé saw that even as she spoke to her mother and she pardoned unpardonable actions, Leia clung to her father, learning from him what it was she needed to know.
Leia left a standard month after Padmé had told her story, and as she learned the purpose of Leia's journey, Padmé rejoiced. Because she didn't want her daughter to experience the same pain, the same regret, the same unhappiness that her mother had been burdened with. Love should be enjoyed for a lifetime, not for the fleeting moments of a first light. Leia's generation should not make mistakes that Padmé's had. The second generation of the Skywalker family would not err in the same manner as the first.
Padmé's smiled softly to herself as she thought about the future. Looking out at the Nubian sunset over the Lake, with Anakin embracing her, Padmé remembered the last act she had done as the Chancellor. Lady Amidala had asked the Senate for the reformation of the Jedi Order. The matter, which would solve many problems and cause the Jedi Council to act, the issue which would finally bring peace into her life and into the lives of countless other beings in the galaxy, was still being debated in the Senate.
A/N Next chapter is Obi-Wan's pov...and some answers.
