A/N: Sorry this took so long to post, I was hoping to get further in the other chapters but was struggling with some writer's block and decided it was better to post this for you all than wait longer! Enjoy!
Nervously, Padmé adjusted her jacket, pulling so it covered more of her protruding stomach. Since her election as the Nubian queen Padmé had been accustomed to holoreporters and cameras following her around, but it had never been as much of a constant or as invasive as it had been since the news of her marriage and pregnancy was revealed. She went from being one of the leaders of the senate minority and an outspoken opponent of the war to tabloid fodder within the span of a single doctor's appointment. Six months had passed since her private life became public knowledge and Padmé still could not escape the cameras.
The only thing stopping Padmé from taking her purse and whacking the nearest camera out of the sky was the comforting fact that in two weeks she would be home. She had decided to have the baby on Naboo and would be off Coruscant and away from probing eyes in just two weeks. Her due date was three weeks away and then she would have at least for months of peace, bonding with her children and free from the relentless gaze of the public. After talks with the queen it was decided that a representative would be taking her place in the senate while she is away on maternity leave and, when ready, Padmé would be welcomed back to her position. It was a comfort for Padmé, despite the turmoil of her pregnancy and the loss of Anakin, she could continue to work for the improvement of the galaxy and be a mother for her twins.
Padmé had been sure it was the perfect plan, even with the cameras still following her. And it would have been the perfect plan if not for the fact that babies, like all children, never follow their parents plans. Which was why, as Padmé tightened her jacket, she felt a tightening in her abdomen. She brushed off the wave of pain, she had been having practice contractions on and off for the past month. The pain was not going to stop her from going into the senate building to work on her newest bill. It was at the top of the senate steps, right before entering the building, when there was another wave of tightening and pain. The pain was worse than it had been before but again, she ignored it, just as she ignored the cameras she was leaving behind by entering the building. It was not until Padmé was sitting behind her desk, trying to read through the latest update in the bill made by Bail, and the fourth or fifth wave of pain came, about ten standard minutes after the one before, that Padmé realized the contractions might not be practice.
Her head shot up and she looked at the clock. She couldn't be sure exactly how much time had passed and decided to keep track of how much time passed before the next tightening feeling. If the contractions would practice, the gap between the feeling would be long and inconsistent. But instead, ten minutes after she started counting, the pain was back, rippling through her lower body and spreading from her back.
"Kriff," She said, under her breath, as she prayed for tears not to form. She wasn't ready. She wasn't home. She had been prepared to give birth without Anakin by her side but without her family? With no one? Taking steadying breaths, Padmé pulled out her com and sent a message to Moteé, begging the handmaiden to come to the office and help. Seconds later, when the handmaiden hurried in to help her stand from her desk, Padmé had managed to steel herself to do this alone. She had been queen at fourteen, she had stopped wars and fought battles, she had broken laws and broken hearts, she could do what billions upon billions of women have always done and give birth. Even if she wasn't home, even if she didn't have cribs in her apartment or her mother's hand to hold, Padmé was ready to give birth.
For a moment, for just one single moment, Padmé considered dying. She thought to herself she could bring her babies into the world and just die. That would be it. She could just slip away and be reunited with Anakin. But then Luke was born and one of the healers attending to her held him up for her to see. And there shining in her son's eyes was Anakin, in the scrunch of his nose and the newborn wails, Padmé could see Anakin. And she also saw her future. She couldn't leave her babies. She wasn't ready to die, and so Padmé did not die. Padmé had just a moment to reach out and hold one of Luke's tiny hands before the next contraction hit. It was one of the most perfect moments of her life.
Delivering Leia felt easier for Padmé. While it was only a few minutes between, she knew she could do it. She had Luke only feet away from her as proof that she could do it. With one final strong push, Leia's wails filled the room, joining the softer cries of her brother. Padmé collapsed against the pillows behind her, drained of energy but wearing the biggest smile she had worn in months. Despite her hair being plastered across her forehead from sweat, the red around her eyes from crying, and the bright flush to her face, Padmé had never looked more radiant than the moment after giving birth. It was as if all the light in the galaxy was centered on her and her two babies. Just as she had with Luke, Padmé reached out a hand towards Leia, tracing her index finger down the soft curve of the newborn's cheek.
"They're perfect," Padmé said, more to herself than any of the healers, "They're absolutely perfect." As Leia was brought away to be cleaned and tested, Luke was placed into her arms, his eyelids already fluttering closed, hiding away the same blue eyes of his father.
Despite her exhaustion, once she had both twins, Padmé had no desire to go to sleep. She sat up in her bed with both newborns laying in her lap, Luke sleeping soundly and Leia looking up at her with large brown eyes. Padmé had to hold back tears when she gave herself a single moment to think of Anakin, she didn't want to mar the happiness of her children's birth with the sorrow she felt, "Your father should be here. He would love you so much. So very much."
Come the next morning her parents and sister would arrive on an express transport from Naboo, but for that night it was just her and her babies. She pressed kisses across their cheeks, atop their heads, along their fingertips and toes, treasuring every detail of them. Alone with the twins, she tried to memorize every detail of them, from Luke's long lashes to the soft curve of Leia's nose. As Luke's fingers curled around one of Padmé's fingers, a warmth spread through her. She was all they had, and, in many ways, they were all she had, as well. Padmé learned how to feed them, how to hold them, and how to change a diaper with only the healer to help. But with each new skill she learned and with each new detail of her babies she studied, Padmé grew more confident in the fact that she could be a mother. That she could be a single mother.
Something was different. The Force felt brighter, brighter than anything Anakin had ever felt before. If he stretched his memory maybe, but just maybe, it had been as bright and harmonious when he was on Tatooine, young and in the arms of his mother, protected despite the terrors of slavery. But whatever had happened, whatever had resonated, was so strong, so light, so pure, that it managed to travel lightyears and break through not only the darkness that clouded the Force since the start of the war but also through the powerful Force repressing cuffs adorning his wrists.
The light in the Force was so strong, the when Anakin felt it he stumbled. It was as if the balance of the universe tilted closer to the light and as it moved, it made his footing change, too. Queen Miraj glanced at him, only interested enough in his actions to be curious as to why he broke from his stance, not to know what had truly caused it. A flash in her eyes indicated her annoyance, despite him being her favorite slave toy the queen did not take well to distractions or improper actions. Anakin's status and her favor towards him would not protect him from a lashing, in fact, unlike with other slaves she would often take pleasure from punishing him herself as opposed to having an officer do so. For other slaves, she would even have Anakin himself administer the lashings, pleased to watch the once honorable and just Jedi stooping so low to as abandon his own principles at her word.
"My apologies, your highness," Anakin said, returning to attention.
"Don't let it happen again, my pet," She replied, "You know how much I hate to punish you." Anakin knew the exact opposite. She loved to punish him. She loved the power of being in control, of being the owner and master of a Jedi knight. She loved the feeling of having him grovel at her feet and beg for the lashings to stop and he knew that because she refused to stop doing so until he begged. It was all a testament to her power.
"Of course, your highness," His voice was tight, cold, and emotionless as he repeated the same words he had been saying for months on end, "It won't happen again, your highness.
Nodding once in approval, Miraj returned her attention the performance before them. The display, which Anakin wished he did not have to witness but was forced to regularly, was just short of being a public sex show, with naked slaves dancing, caressing, rubbing, and writhing against one another. He felt sorry for them, just as he felt sorry for himself.
Every night was the same. Just like the first night after he kneeled before the queen and vowed his loyalty in exchange for his friends' freedom, Anakin led her to her doors. She turned to him and stepped forward, too close, taking space that before only Padmé had dared enter. She would purr in his ear and tempt him to join her, but Anakin would always stoically decline. He had no desire for her. He had no desire for anyone but Padmé, but especially not for slaver scum. Once the ornate doors would close behind Miraj, Anakin would go to his own rooms. Lavishly decorated, they were still a cell.
Most nights Anakin barely had the energy to remove his armor before collapsing in his bed and succumbing to sleep, but the night he felt the change in the Force was different. For the first time since he was enslaved, Anakin mediated. Sitting in just his sleep pants and Force suppressing cuff, he crossed his legs, placed his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply, Anakin centered himself and focused on the shining light that had broken through into his dull existence. Never skilled at meditation even when the Force was accessible to him, Anakin struggled to connect to the new presence. But, just as his patience was waning, there was a spark. Deep in his mind Anakin felt the brush of another, of two others, curious but inexperienced and completely untouched. Never had Anakin experienced anything so blindingly light and pure. He reached further, trying to connect more deeply with the other Force presences but just as quickly as they touched, they faded away. When Anakin came out of his trance, for some unknown reason there were tears sliding down his cheeks.