Coruscant was even more beautiful than she remembered, but that beauty faded when the large Empire flags came into view. They were everywhere, from the streets and buildings to patches on people's clothes. Ugly blotches on a otherwise beautiful city. Padmé was escorted into the Imperial Palace with many other people, few of whom she recognized.
She did see Bail Organa who she knew worked closely with Mothma. There was some comfort in seeing his face and equal fear that this was some sort of trap which they would both be caught in.
There was little time to socialize before she was brought to her quarters. A well-guarded wing in the palace with a grand view of the city stretching out before her. It was bare compared to the Naboo palace but had much warmer furnishing than anything on Despayre. Overall, though, it felt cold with its sleek black furniture and wide open spaces left bare.
When she peeked outside of the sheer curtains, the first thing she saw was the Imperial emblem proudly displayed in more flags, even carved into stone sidewalks. Not once did she ever think she would miss Despayre, but the nauseating and overpowering black, white, and red colors made her miss the rotting jungle. The famous Red Guard that specifically guarded the palace and the emperor were ever present. She could hear them marching even then, just outside of the heavy doors of her room. With them so close and the outside banners made her claustrophobic. Not to mention the recording devices she was certain would be in her room, listening and maybe even watching her.
She took another look outside, the city bright and shining. She wished she'd been able to see its beauty when she'd come to it years ago, but her mind had been focused solely on negotiating help for her people. She saw the beauty now, but the Imperial touch made it bittersweet.
The execution would take place the following day, a mere twenty-four hours. Although she hadn't thought of the impending death she would be forced to witness, its coming arrival and her witness to it became the prominent focus of her mind.
Never in her time in the Alliance did she wish for an immediate attack as she did then. She'd give anything to look up at the sky and see an army descending.
Instead, all she could hear was the buzzing of the city that was so full and alive.
Vader stood in the middle of his destroyed room. The burst of his power had crumpled everything around him with such ease that the several panels of the wall had fallen lose.
He held still for a moment, his helmet gone and his hair unruly in his face. Dark, brownish blond waves that looked foreign when they covered his eyes. He pushed them back and out of the way, instead surveying the damage around him. Stronger, better. It wouldn't be much longer until nothing held him back from destroying Sidious. He reached for his helmet, intending to return to the offices just for a little face time with the cowering masses when the undisturbed golden gleam caught his attention. A falling wall panel bent inwards revealed one closet stuffed with machinery. His first creation stood at attention inside.
He'd been young, once. Small, too. His mother carried him a lot-he remembered that. Sometimes she'd hold him so tight that it would hurt, but he never said anything. At night, they slept close together because no matter how hot the days may have been, the nights were cold and rarely with any blanket or comfort besides the two of them.
The few memories he had of his mother were good ones, and he remembered her fondly.
They went to different places, had different masters. Sometimes he worked a few jobs but most of the time it was her who did the heavy lifting. She was usually so tired by the end of the days that she was asleep before finishing the stories she would whisper to him. Despite the helplessness of the situation, the sheer indignity, she bore it all and always had a smile for him.
Then came the day the man in fine robes came down to the miserable dust ball.
Anakin Skywalker was his name. At the time, he wasn't worth much. Given time though, the various masters hoped he would grow strong enough to work as muscle or other dangerous jobs. He'd finished his work in the morning for Watto, one of the kinder creatures who owned them. He was still a terrible little thing, but not the worst they'd had.
There hadn't been much work that day, Vader remembered. He'd cleaned and sorted a few odds and ends before Watto told him it was okay to call it a day. His mom still had work through and stayed behind when Anakin took off. In the dump of things Watto had carelessly thrown out, there was an old piece of a ship. He tore at it until he got to the wires, pulling each one and stuffing them in his tunic.
The sand was hot when he walked home. His mother had sewed and reinforced his shoes so that nothing could get in, but the sand still burned the bottom of his feet. He hurried his pace until he made it to their humble quarters.
Inside, he found the droid he'd been working on and began to add the wires where he could. When he thought he got it right, he activated the wire-exposed droid.
"Oh my! Hello, Master Anakin."
"Hey, Threepio. How do the wires fit?"
The droid stood and ran through a self-assessment of his new components.
"I dare say I'm near complete."
Anakin smiled a genuine smile, always fascinated to watch something he created walk around the room no problem.
He began to do some extra work on Threepio then. Coverings would be the hardest parts to come across for the droid, and until he could find something he would have to work on keeping the wires tucked away neatly.
It was sometime later that the door opened that he finally stopped and listened closely.
"Anakin, will you come out here please?"
He jumped up, happy his mother was home before the suns had set. When he left his room, he felt something that made him hesitate. Another presence beside his mother that put him on edge. He slowed his steps to the entryway until he had no choice but to round the corner.
The soft conversation that had been going on before his arrival died and before him stood a stranger.
"Anakin, this is Qui-Gon Jin. He'll be staying for dinner."
Padmé took a deep, useless breath. She tried to wipe her sweaty palms against the fabric of her expensive dress but felt the eyes of so many people on or near her that she hesitated to do anything that would reveal her true sentiments. She did try to seek out Bail Organa and see how he was doing, but the room was too crowded and her short stature made seeing past the sea of Red Guards and other guests of the emperor impossible.
They waited in the ballroom until the Jedi was brought onto the adjacent balcony, surrounded by Red Guards and booed by the crowd. Padmé and the others were directed to make a procession outside and stand on either side of the execution. The sun was actually out today. Before her was a crowd of thousands, all wearing variations of white, red, and black, and jeering at the man in the center of it all.
She looked at him only briefly, already feeling tears prickle at her eyes and wishing she were anywhere else but here.
His hair was a mess and slightly longer than she was sure it was usually groomed. His face and clothes were dirty. When he was pushed onto his knees, she caught a glimpse of exposed skin on his wrists and ankles from the torn robes. Bruised skin from the weeks spent since his capture, probably always being beaten.
She was growing lightheaded and could feel her hands trembling. She thought she might just make it though. That is, until the crowd suddenly went wild with the appearance of the emperor descending from the balcony above them. The cameras that had been floating all around them immediately focused on the man in fine black robes and his procession.
The closer he came, the more she wanted to bolt as far as possible. She felt hot, and no matter how hard she tried to appear indifferent, she was sure if anybody looked close enough they could see everything.
In her moment of panic, she caught the Jedi's eyes roaming over the group she'd clustered with. Their eyes met before she could stop herself or try to look anywhere but him. She wasn't sure what to do now that they were looking at each other. The crowd roared again when the emperor arrived. It jostled her, but she did her best not to think of the billions of beings through the galaxy that were watching now. She finally pulled her eyes from the deadman, a cruel but necessary act given the circumstances. She stared blankly past him until her eyes strained from the urge to look one last time. It didn't help that she knew the emperor was getting closer. In her peripheral vision, she could catch glimpses of his black robes and greyed skin. To think they'd been born to the same planet.
It wasn't until her lungs began to burn that she took one steady, discreet breath and hoped nobody had noticed her stumble. Emperor Palpatine moved to the center of the balcony, only a few feet in front of the kneeling Jedi. There were wild cheers that stopped when he raised one white, bony hand in the air. The silence was eerie considering the size of the crowd. Her muscles tight, she flinched when the emperor began to speak and the microphones boomed with his words.
"Thank you all for being with us here today, both in person and tuning in around the galaxy." The end of his words slithered and dragged on like a whistle. From her place, Padmé couldn't see his face hidden in the black hood of his robe, but she figured that his image would be seen everywhere in the coming weeks. It was rare that Palpatine made public appearances like this, usually when he or Darth Vader were seen like this, the media would eat it up and keep the images and videos relevant for weeks.
"It is today that we see once again the fruits of our efforts to secure true peace in the galaxy," he paused and allowed the audience to cheer.
"Today, we exterminate this traitor!"
More cheering.
Padmé's eyes slowly made their way back to the forsaken Jedi. He must have felt her eyes on him, because his tired eyes returned to hers and they focused on one another. She had no idea what he must have been thinking, with his death growing nearer and nearer. She herself had no idea what to think of the whole show.
The Red Guards began to move in closer to the man on the ground. They came from all sides as they closed in on him, leaving no room for him to escape. Padmé looked away. It was cowardly, but there was no way she could watch. She bit her tongue and willed her body to stand tall and proud despite the sudden wave of dizziness that compelled her to sit and rest.
She heard the blades unsheathe, and her stomach feel to her feet.
Maybe she passed out for the briefest moment, because in her next moment of consciousness, all she could articulate was the thundering crowd before her. She was aware of their sudden excitement. It bordered on blood lust that they called out for more. If every last Jedi were here today, lined up for slaughter, she was not sure it would satisfy their craving.
Bail Organa's eyes drew her in when they finally locked gazes. She focused on him, rather than the growing pool of blood at her feet. Despite his calm, collected composure, she suspected he was doing the same while looking at her. Her chin wobbled but she pushed all emotions aside for the time being. No matter the inhumanity she had just witnessed or the growing smell of copper, she stayed emotionless.
She was Padmé Naberrie Amidala, and she would not stand for the corruption of an entire galaxy. She would fight until there was nothing left of herself.
The cheering finally began to die down, but her resolve strengthened. Palpatine gave his big announcement. Sure, he prettied it up, but the point was clear. The senate was to lose more power. Padmé let the words roll right past her though.
Nothing would stand in her way, and she would do whatever necessary to prevent witnessing another execution like the one she saw today. Darth Vader she would face again, that she was sure of.
Her eyes fell to Palpatine, still standing to the front of the entire show.
Even he wouldn't be able to stop her.
Qui-Gon kept coming back. He said he would only be on the planet for a short time, but why he was there he never said.
He was nice enough to the Skywalker duo, but the more Anakin saw of him the more he began to distrust the man in the worn robes. He told as much to his mother, but she only shook her head. "He's a kind man, Ani, and we must be kind to those around us."
His suspicions continued though, and he knew he wouldn't feel better until the stranger finally left Tatooine.
He was cleaning in Watto's shop at peak afternoon time when most people retreated inside until the suns weren't at a lethal level. Watto sat outside of the shop in the shade, scaring off anybody who might try to take refuge inside without at least maybe buying something. Anakin wasn't sure where his mother was but could only hope she wasn't burning up outside.
"Come in, friend, come in." Watto's gruff voice broke Anakin out of his thoughtless work. He paused his cleaning and looked up, startled to see a stranger in fine robes.
The man beside Watto wore the finest materials Anakin had ever seen, though they were impractical for the heat of the planet. His hair had been styled back but was losing its neatness with the sweat formed over his red face.
Still, he carried himself with a certain strength and confidence rarely seen in places like Watto's shop.
"Good prices here, friend," Watto assured, no doubt expecting a nice fat sale from the stranger.
"Yes, lots of choices," the man agreed evenly, obviously trying to cover his exhaustion. He spoke in a posh accent that Anakin couldn't place from his time spent visiting travelling pilots.
"If you don't mind, I'll take a look around."
"If you need any help just let me know." Watto reluctantly backed off, giving one last long look before floating away.
Anakin returned to his cleaning, not sure if the stranger would be offended should he ask questions. Most of the pilots he spoke to didn't mind the questions he asked, but none of them wore fine clothes like this stranger.
He scrubbed the forgotten power converters in his hands, focusing on getting the sand out of them and making them useable again. He nearly dropped them when the foreign accent broke the silence of the shop.
"Listen up, boy. Do nothing suspicious."
Anakin kept his eyes on his hands and took a moment to collect himself.
"Okay?"
The man had his back to him just an aisle over as he inspected the wares displayed there.
"You've met somebody recently, haven't you? Somebody who has been trying to get to know you since he first arrived. Hasn't there?"
Anakin swallowed and focused on his cleaning. Qui-Gon came to mind immediately. "Yes," he answered quietly, not sure what this all meant.
"The man is dangerous," the new stranger whispered, going up the aisle and looking at other items.
His words rang with truth to Anakin, who was certain that there was something off about Qui-Gon from the beginning.
"Where is he now?" he asked.
Anakin shrugged but quickly dropped his shoulders, lest Watto see. "Not sure. Maybe with Mom?"
The man stood suddenly. "We must find him quickly. Are you a decent mechanic, Boy?"
The abruptness of their conversation threw Anakin off, but he answered truthfully. "Yes."
He stayed motionless on the counter when the man went outside to fetch Watto. He held a hyper speed engine chamber in his hands to purchase. Watto's eyes lit up at the chance at big money.
"Quite the expensive piece, you have," he warned, giving the price.
The man did not even blink, handing over a leather purse filled with precious stones. "Will that satisfy you?"
Watto must have been so taken back and pleased, that he could not agree right away.
From nowhere, the man fetched another stone and threw it into the bag. "That's if the boy comes with me to install it this afternoon."
Finally snapping out of his reverie, Watto agreed easily, "Sure, of course. Anakin will install no problem."
Stunned both by the turn of the day and the large sum of payment in Watto's hands, it took the young Skywalker a moment before he realized what was expected of him. He jumped down quickly and left the shop for an unknown destination. As they passed the threshold out into the sun-baked sand, that little voice in his head whispered that he wouldn't be coming back. "What's your name, Mister?" he asked quietly as he tried to keep up.
"Dooku."
