Uhm, hi.
Well, I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do.
I realize that at this point, it's highly likely that I have lost roughly 87% of the people who used to follow this story, with good reason. It's been 4 years since an update, and that's a ridiculous amount of time. I got caught up in life. Boyfriends, friendships, graduating high school, starting college...everything has changed. But I've started reading fanfiction again...and I realized...I MISS this.
So if there's anyone out there who still cares, I could use some support treading into what feels like new territory.
My sincerest apologies. It's been so long since I've written, but I hope someone out there finds this not completely terrible.
Padmé woke slowly.
Her eyelids felt immensely heavy atop her bone-dry eyes, and her throat felt parched and hoarse, as if she had been screaming. Bits and pieces of her body entered her awareness slowly. Limp limbs. Heavy head. Trembling fingers. Aching back.
Padmé sat up, and gasped, her eyes wide open.
Her hands flew to her stomach, only to be met with drooping emptiness. No, her mind screamed at her. No, no, no, no.
Dimly, she registered a frantic beeping to her left. Her eyes took in stark white walls and wires hung like jungle vines over her bed. She heard the sound of a door swish open, but her mind was blank with terror.
"Senator Amidala," came a distressed, female voice. Padmé turned her head towards the entrance of the room, where an elderly human woman stood, clad in a white jumpsuit. The woman hurriedly rushed to her side, to a machine besides Padmé's bed, where she now realized the beeping had been coming from.
"Where is he?" Padmé hissed, unconcerned about anything besides the aching emptiness in her womb. "Where is my baby?"
"I know it must be confusing," the woman muttered, adjusting the machine until that beeping noise finally ceased. "Please try to stay calm. Everything is all right."
Padmé felt her fury increase at the placating words. "My baby," she said forcefully, stopping the woman in her tracks and forcing her to meet her cold gaze.
The woman peered into Padmé's eyes for a brief moment before speaking tiredly. "Senator, your…baby is just fine," she assured her, and Padmé felt all the tense muscles in her body relax. "I'm not sure you remember much of what happened, but you were brought here about 3 days ago. You went into premature labor, and we had to operate quickly." The woman—a doctor or some sort of medical technition, Padmé reasoned—spoke briskly as Padmé tried to absorb the outpouring of information that was slaughtering her still muggy senses. "Though we do have a bit of interesting news for you," she added, eyeing Padmé carefully.
"What is it?" Padmé asked, working around the hoarseness in her voice. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," the older woman was quick to assure her. "Nothing of immediate concern. I am surprised that you weren't aware, but you have a healthy baby boy. And a healthy baby girl."
Padmé felt her breath hitch in her throat, her hands automatically brushing against her stomach. "Two?" she breathed stupidly.
"Twins," the other woman affirmed. "A boy and a girl. They're resting in the ICU, as they were both a little on the small side. But please try not to worry. They're in excellent health, all things considering. We will simply have to monitor them for a bit longer to make sure development is going smoothly."
Despite everything, Padmé could not stop the smile that spread across her face. She'd been carrying twins all this time. A boy and a girl-
Her thoughts were stopped short as a sharp pain flared in her abdomen, causing her to moan and double over in pain. She was dimly aware of the medic urging her to lie on her back. Through the discomfort, she felt the prick of a needle through the delicate skin on the back of her hand, near her wrist.
"Try not to move," the medic instructed her. "The pain should subside in a few moments. I've reattached your IV."
True to the doctor's word, Padmé felt the tightness in her stomach decrease. When she was able to regain her voice, she choked out, "Is that normal?"
The woman beside her struggled for words. "There were a few complications," she said delicately. "During your surgery, you began to bleed out. We…" she trailed off, her expression wary, her voice uneasy.
Padmé felt her stomach drop a bit at the odd look on the doctor's face. "Am I going to be all right?" she asked, trying to still the tremor in her hand.
"Yes," the woman answered, somewhat breathless. "We—the surgical team—we had…nearly given up on you. You were bleeding too fast for us to control, and your heart had stopped. But…his Excellency…he insisted to be let in," she attempted to explain, her words jumbled. "He…did something, Senator. Something beyond my medical understanding, or rational explanation. He healed you. The bleeding stopped entirely and your heart rate returned. It was as if nothing had happened."
Padmé felt her heart constrict.
Memories from the past months quickly flooded back into consciousness, and suddenly, she was aware of everything that had occurred up until this point. Mustafar. Fire. Surgery. Pain. Fear. She felt her control wavering as everything came to a culmination; a shocking realization that Anakin had been right.
"I almost died," she stated, her voice distant, sounding disconnected from her own body. "I almost died and Palpatine brought me back." The words were so surreal in her mouth.
The woman's face expressed every emotion that Padmé was trying so hard to control. "Yes," she spoke softly. "For reasons none of us understand, you—and your children—are well and alive."
Tears were streaming down her face. Tears of relief, first and foremost, that her children were safe and alive. But tears, secondly, because she was afraid. Padmé Amidala, senator of the Republic, former Queen of Naboo, was deathly, uncontrollably afraid. With each passing moment her world was spinning more and more out of control, plunging into the unknown.
She was afraid, and she was uncertain.
Exhausted, confused, and despondent, she drifted away back into unconsciousness.
-:-:-:-
2 months later…
"Your sulking tires me."
Padmé lifted heavy eyes from the tile beneath her feet, and forced them to focus on the figure before her; tall, black, encased in leather and metal, insect-like orbs focused on her. Time did not alter the effect that his new body had on his wife. Though he remained unchanging from day to day, her eyes saw him as if it were the first time. Each reaction was just as violent, just as disgusted, and today was no different. She could form no reply to his complaint, and merely sunk deeper into her chair.
"Padmé," his mechanical voice boomed. "Stop this. I won't tolerate this behavior from you anymore."
"Then do something about it," Padmé spat dejectedly, tired of fighting. Tired of his demands. Tired of his suffocating presence.
"Don't tempt me," he hissed, and Padmé had known Vader long enough to know that he meant it. His hand clamped down on her arm, pulling her roughly to her feet. "In case you've forgotten, you have two children to attend to. Perhaps if you fought through this pathetic depression, your children would learn to be comforted by your presence and not cry every time you entered the room."
Disgusted, both by his touch and by his words, she pulled her arm from his grasp and stepped away from him. "Don't pretend they don't do the same to you," she spat, not caring that her words were careless.
Anakin's fists clenched, and his body visibly became tense. "I always used to admire your control, Padmé," Anakin said, his words slow and deliberate. "The way you so calmly held your composure, regardless of the situation. You're acting like a child, now, disrespectful and obstinate. You're making this harder than it has to be."
Padmé averted his gaze, and saw no point in rebutting his words. "I'm going to bed," she muttered, dejected and numb.
Anakin once again clamped down on her shoulder, his hand like steel. "We are not done discussing this," he hissed, his forced breaths landing in her curls, sending a shiver down her spine.
"Please, Anakin," she pleaded, clenching her eyelids shut, as if she could wish this all away with sheer force of will. "I promise we will talk about this later. I just need rest."
After a moment, Anakin's hand relaxed on her shoulder, lingering for an awkward moment before ultimately pulling away. "Fine," he spoke finally. "I have a meeting with his Excellency. I'll be back tonight. Be prepared to discuss it then." She listened to the sound of his heavy steps until he was all the way out of the apartment.
Numbly, she wandered down the dim hallway to her bedroom. Technically, it was the nursery, but she so often snuck away from her room in the middle of the night that she considered the nursery her bedroom now.
She pushed open the door, and approached the crib which held her two babies. Leaning against the railing, she fixated her gaze on her children.
They were so small.
Padmé reached out to brush the boy's face. His father had chosen their names, despite Padmé's protests; the boy was called Cadeius, and the girl was Odile. But here, with their father gone, she had her own little names for them, softer names, more dear to her motherly heart. She swept up the small boy into her arms, and seated herself on the floor, back against the crib.
"Hello, little Luke," she whispered, admiring his soft baby skin and his inquisitive eyes. "See? You don't always cry in my presence." She adjusted hi s blanket around his body, marveling at how tiny he was. "You can just tell when Mommy is sad," she continued, as his eyes fixated themselves on her face. His face contorted, as if showing his displeasure.
She held him silently for a few somber moments, focusing her gaze on the setting sun of the bustling Coruscant skyline outside the wide window. Standing slowly, she carried her child to the window, and opened in, so that the cool breeze caressed his face.
Suddenly, tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to overflow. "I'm sorry, baby," she whispered, clutching Luke tight against her heart. "I'm sorry that this is the world you've been born into. I'm sorry that this is the life you have."
The tears came steadily, and she went back to place Luke inside his crib, next to his fussy sister, Leia, who could now sense her mother's unhappiness. Padmé caressed each of their faces, lovingly, before stumbling into the hall, where she let her sobs escape her throat.
She slumped against the wall, her heart broken into a thousand pieces. She thought of her children, being brought up under the rule of a dark Sith Lord. She thought of her husband, the man she still loved, the man who'd once been her world, and who'd then destroyed it in the blink of an eye. She wanted to love him, she truly did. But the truth had slowly sunk into her since the birth of her children; her husband was gone.
How she wished she could leave him. She wanted to pack her things and run to the farthest corner of the galaxy, where Palpatine's rule could not reach. But how could she abandon her children to a fate that only held darkness? How could she give up on their lives before they'd even had a chance to truly live?
She had to remain here, to protect them. She could not think of a way in which she and her children could reasonably escape from underneath the noses of Vader and Palpatine, who saw everything.
When her tears had subsided, she wiped her face upon her sleeve, pushing her unwashed hair from her eyes. Dimly, she heard Luke and Leia crying from within their nursery, unsettled at the waves of despair they felt rolling from their mother. Had two babies ever cried so much as these two had?
"Dormé," she called, unable to tend to their wounds, knowing her presence would do nothing to soothe them while she was in this state. "Dormé?"
Her tired handmaiden shuffled into the hallway. "I'll tend to them, my lady," she assured Padmé, brushing her face tenderly as she went to calm the twins.
Padmé went to sleep.
-:-:-:-
"My lady," a voice came, accompanied by a shaking feeling. "Wake up, my lady, please."
Padmé slowly opened her eyes, and groggily fixated them upon her handmaiden's distressed face. "What is it, Dormé?"
"It's him," she whispered, her eyes bright and alert. "He's home and he's insisting he speak with you. He's upset, my lady, I didn't know what to tell him-"
Hurriedly, Padmé forced the heaviness to leave her sleepy body as she rose from her bed. "It's all right, Dormé," she said softly, quickly pulling a robe over her nightdress. "I'm going to take care of it." She had begun to sweep her hair into a presentable style, but paused when she heard the sound of muffled tears.
"Dormé," she breathed, facing her handmaiden, watching as her eyes stained her wrinkled face with tears. "Don't cry," she murmured, and brought her friend into the circle of her arms. "What's the matter?"
Dormé embraced her tightly. "I'm worried for you, Padmé," she whispered fervently, so unusually informal. "Don't think I didn't see him hit you," she went on, her voice rising in anger and frustration. "Don't think I don't know about the way he speaks to you, or how he looks at the children. He's not the same Anakin, I'm so afraid he will hurt us."
Padmé stroked Dormé's hair, trying desperately to maintain her composure. "He won't touch you," she promised. "And I'll die before he touches Luke and Leia," she swore, knowing those words could be more true and literal than the expression intended. Pulling back, she brushed tears from the crying woman's face. "Everything's falling apart, Dormé," she spoke softly. "I'm not going to pretend it's not. Everything's going to hell. But if you and I don't stay sane through this, we are not going to make it. Do you hear me? We won't make it."
Dormé nodded through her tears. "Do you know what you're doing?" she asked, her eyes challenging. "Do you have a plan?"
Padmé shut her eyes, her jaw clenching. "We'll think of something," she insisted, hoping the words would make it real. "We have to."
Padmé held on to her friend for only a moment longer before leaving her room to face her husband.
From the moment she laid eyes on him, she could see that he was temperamental. His posture was hostile, and he was pacing erratically on the veranda overlooking the night sky. His helmet glistened with all the lights of the city, and his cloak billowed behind him like a dark cloud. Again, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, this man who had power over everything.
"Padmé," he said when he saw her, and stilled his movements. "We must speak."
She pulled her robe more tightly around her body, trying to ward off the cold that she wasn't sure real. "You're shaking," she stated quietly.
He paused momentarily, but ignored her comment. "Palpatine and I spoke tonight about our arrangements," he said simply, approaching his wife. "Things are going to change around here."
Padmé felt her stomach drop to her knees, a strange sense of foreboding coming over her. "In what way?" she inquired carefully, afraid to hear the answer.
"His Excellency is concerned about the education of Odile and Cadeius," he informed her, his tone frustratingly even with that damned droid voice of his. "He is concerned that they are being raised to follow…the old ways," he stumbled over the words, "of the Jedi. He thinks it important that he closely monitor their proper education."
Padmé felt her jaw drop. "The babies are only two months old," she spoke pointedly. "All they know how to do is eat and sleep. How could we possibly be corrupting them?"
Anakin took a moment to respond. "It is not I that his Excellency is concerned about," he spoke, choosing his words cautiously. "His Excellency is worried that your…political and personal background may affect their upbringing."
Padmé felt her blood drain from her face at his words. "Of course he does," she hissed, underneath her breath, feeling panic rising to the surface. "That-"
"You will do well to respect my master," he interjected before she could say something careless. "He does not wish for the children to be separate from their mother. He knows the devastating effects that that may have," Anakin reasoned, and for a moment, Padmé remembered his tender vulnerability.
"Do you honestly think that he is looking out for the good of our children?" she challenged him, forcing herself to stare him in the face. "Palpatine-"
"His Excellency has never wanted anything but the best for me," Anakin hissed, his tone dark. "Don't you start questioning him, too. He's the only one who's stood by me, in everything. Even my own wife has not been so supportive."
Padmé knew when it was wise to close her mouth.
"I'm tired of trying to acquiesce your requests, Padmé," he spat at her. "I've been as accommodating as I can be, and I'm through with it. I only obey is Excellency. You, my dear, are my wife. And you will listen to what I say." Anakin swept past her, grasping her wrist as he did so. "We are moving to the Imperial Palace in five days. I will be expecting your cooperation."
And with that, he was gone.
Padmé's hand came to rest on her heart, and she slowly sank into her chair, knowing that they had finally reached the point where things had to change.
