(A/N) Hey guys! Wow. I feel so terrible about this... When I started this story, I promised myself I wouldn't give up on y'all, and look at me now. Don't worry, I haven't given up all the way, but with my job and school and the end of the spring semester... Well, let's just say my life got sort of out of hand.

SO. I'm still updating for now. A brief, official hiatus MIGHT be necessary later, but I'll write as much as I can, when I can, and we'll see how it works.

I really hope you guys haven't lost interest! I really feel like this chapter in particular gives that last, much-needed piece of information about Padme and Obi-Wan's relationship that I know most of you have been doubting. Trust me, it's not as weird and far-fetched as it seems!

Anyway, we'll get right into it :)

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A New Promise

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Chapter 10

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Luke disliked Tatooine immediately. The moment he stepped off the boarding ramp of the Falcon, the heat seemed to punch him hard in the gut. Dantooine had hot days, but nothing like this. His home planet was forested for the most part, so the heat was humid, while this foreign planet sucked all the moisture straight out of the air, leaving his mouth feeling dry and his lips parched. The sun seemed to burn right through his shirt into his shoulders. Immediately he wondered what possessed these humans to settle here.

Princess Rahya threw a poncho over her head and turned to the group. "Follow my lead," she commanded, then turned into the hallway.

Falling into step beside her brother, Leia fingered her blaster. "I don't like it," she admitted.

Luke nodded. "Does she know what she's looking for?"

"I hope so."

The walk was relatively quiet for a while. Han and Chewbacca had stayed in the ship, insisting that they didn't "want any trouble." But Luke sensed an undercurrent of terror in the smuggler's voice. C-3PO had stayed with them, so only the slight whirr of R2-D2's wheels and the soft footsteps in the sand were the only noises.

That is, until the wall exploded.

The crash caused everyone to scream and duck for cover as nearly twenty Imperial troops paraded from the opposite hallway. Blasterfire rained down from all sides, and Leia frantically shoved her siblings to the side with one hand, and returned the fire with her other. Luke's lightsaber was out in a flash, blocking bolts, here and there. Artoo squealed, and another astromech droid rammed into Cordé's legs, sending her sprawling into the sand, saber flung a few yards away. She scrambled to her feet, accidentally shoving Rahya into the wall as she tripped over the red droid. Luke and Leia formed a protective barrier around the two droids and girls, slashing and blasting the troops simultaneously.

But it was too much for them, and they fell against the wall as the shots finally died down.

"That droid," a stormtrooper bellowed. "Let it go." He motioned to the red astromech, which rocked on its legs, beeping and whistling frantically.

"No," Rahya replied, breathless but courageous.

The trooper, obviously the leader, raised his blaster, aiming directly at the princess . . . but Leia jumped in front of it . . .

"STOP!" Cordé's voice, suddenly furious, cut through the commotion. She raised a hand, three fingers extended. "You will put away your gun and leave us alone. This is not . . . the droid you're looking for."

And the attitude suddenly shifted. The trooper holstered his blaster, and let his arms fall to his sides, his head moving up and backwards. "We will leave you alone. This is not the droid we're looking for."

Cordé didn't break focus. "Move along."

The trooper waved his hands and made room in the narrow alley. "Move along. Move along."

Only once the Imperials were out of sight did the group let out a unanimous breath. Rahya seemed shocked to the point of disbelief. "How did you do that?" she breathed.

The younger girl smirked. "The Force," she repeated her father's well-used phrase, "can have a strong influence on the weak-minded." She called her lightsaber to her hand and clipped it to her belt once again, Luke following suit.

The princess only shook her head, then knelt and beckoned to the red astromech droid. "R4-C5," she murmured. "Thank you."

"Is this the one?" Luke's eyes widened.

"That explains the troops," Leia muttered when Rahya nodded.

"They must have found out what he was carrying," she explained. Then her eyes widened as they landed on a small, cylindrical device on the droid's front plate. "When did you get a restraining bolt?" she questioned Ar-four.

The droid beeped and whistled, and she nodded. "Jawas. Disgusting creatures if you ask me."

The conversation between the princess and the droid continued, and in the end it was discovered that Ar-four couldn't retrieve the plans with the restraining bolt on, but was afraid that he would short-circuit with it off.

Rahya sat back on her heels and stared up at her companions. "Ideas would be nice."

Leia drew her eyebrows together. "Are the plans on a disk?"

Ar-four beeped in confirmation, causing Artoo to whistle happily. Leia smirked. "Exactly. We can remove the plans from R4-C5 and give them to Artoo. Then it's up to him whether or not he wants to remove the bolt."

"I wouldn't know how to do that," the princess admitted. Leia motioned to her brother, who nodded.

"It's pretty simple," Luke explained, kneeling beside Ar-four and opening a small door. "Artoo can access his internal memory without the bolt intervening, through the computer terminal here." He beckoned to the blue droid, who scooted forward and extended his plug. Once inserted, the terminal spun and dialed. When he finished, Luke opened another hatch. "See, now Artoo has the plans, and once I remove . . ." he grunted, finding resistance in the droid's wires, ". . . the hard disk, it'll be erased from his memory completely."

The disk was about a hand-breadth long, and half as wide. A small golden circle on one end glinted in the morning sun. Luke was afraid it would snap in his fingers, so he handed it to the princess. "Backup," he explained. "Keep it safe."

She nodded determinedly. "Thank you." Then a huge grin exploded on her face and she stood. "I can't believe it. We finally, finally have the upper hand."

"We have confirmation, my lord." Piett bowed swiftly. "The people you seek are on Tatooine. The princess Rahya of Alderaan is with them."

Darth Vader didn't turn from his view through the window.

He knew.

Piett's announcement was unneeded, because he could sense all the pieces of this galaxy-wide puzzle suddenly click into place. His spy on Tatooine had seen the group, yes, but Vader already knew.

"Good." He crossed his arms. "Set course immediately."

"Yes, my lord."

It had been so long since he'd last seen the desert planet. He'd chased the Rebel ship above it, but hadn't actually seen the planet itself.

He hadn't personally set foot on it since . . . Since he called himself Anakin, and his mother . . .

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Vader basked in the fury that consumed him. He had been less in control since they caught Obi-Wan and Padmé. He needed control. He needed focus. Hate focused him. He embraced every ounce of anger and hate that came his way and milked it for all it was worth. Every time he laid eyes on his former master and wife, red-hot fury boiled up in his soul, threatening to drive him insane. It was all he could do to channel it how he always had before.

The Jedi tried to teach him to clear his mind, but even then he knew he had more precision in nearly everything when his mind became alive with the flurry of action.

It was when he felt most comfortable . . .

. . . Most himself.

None of the Kenobis felt certain that leaving Tatooine immediately was the best course of action.

Han, of course, insisted they "get the hell off this planet before they get fried by either the sun or Imperial blasters."

But Cordé knew what her siblings were thinking, because she felt it, too. The Force was pushing them to stay. She didn't know why. She never did.

Rahya believed it was all nonsense. She insisted they return to the Rebel base immediately.

"Why is everyone so stubborn?" she nearly shouted. "We have the plans, we have the upper hand, and now this ancient, mystical energy is telling you to stay here? It's ridiculous! Do you want the Empire to win?!"

Cordé stared at the far wall of the Millennium Falcon, trying with all her might to clear her mind and focus. Father, she called through the Force. What am I to do? I'm still a child, and no one listens to a child. Tell me what to do.

Father always had an answer. Even if it was "I shall have to think on it," he always came back with an answer.

But she knew there would be no answer now.

She had no power over their decisions. Rahya was vehement and outspoken about it—a far cry from her first impressions on Alderaan. Leia was her usual self: fighting fire with fire, and pushing her limits while doing it. Luke, like normal, would add a comment or two here and there, but for the most part stayed silent, merely watching the girls battle it out. Han seemed to enjoy the sight at first, but grew more and more concerned with every word that was yelled, and even he soon joined in the argument. Threepio kept on shouting odds of this-and-that, and Artoo beeped and whistled, while the little red droid stood, rocking back and forth, whining.

Cordé desperately wanted everyone to just shut up for a moment, so she could sort the situation out and explain her views . . . but that would be equivalent to stopping a forest fire with a bucket.

She screwed her eyes shut, listening to the words being bounced through the Falcon.

"You all are complete idiots—"

"I don't care if this bucket gets shot down, I just—"

". . . Odds of surviving a direct Imperial assault are approximately—"

"Calm down? I'll show you to calm—"

" . . . Sand-pit! It's a waste of time—"

"The Rebellion is counting on me—"

"I never said I hated the Rebellion! I just—"

"I don't want any of this Force mumbo jumbo—"

It was painful, listening to it.

Cordé's head pounded, and she felt almost weightless . . . as if she were spinning, very slowly . . .

Finally, she couldn't take it.

"STOP!" she jumped to her feet, Force-pushing a crate into the wall behind it. A smack and a bang echoed through the Falcon, and five pairs of eyes turned to her.

"You're all as bad as those storm troopers," she insisted. "I'd have to mind trick you into shutting up for one minute." She noticed Luke's eyebrows shoot upwards in appreciation.

"So," she continued, "could you all just listen to me?"

Silence.

"Good." She let out a long breath. "None of us hate the Rebellion. None of us like the Empire. We understand the importance of the plans, and we will help you if we need to. But," she turned to Rahya and Han, "I've been to three different planets in two days, when in fourteen years, I've only lived on one. I've basically flown across the galaxy to get here. Luke and Leia and I tried to tell you that the Force told us something very specific. So, before you say anything against it, remember that for thousands of years, the Jedi were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic. Everyone trusted them, because they trusted the Force. And the Force is telling us to stay here. Believe me, I don't want to stay here. I would rather go home to Dantooine, but I'm here now and I plan to stay here no matter what. Because my father taught me the ways of the old Jedi Order, and I know and trust the Force. It's as simple as that. And if you can't understand that, then you're a bunch of nerf-herders."

Rahya hurried forward and sat herself next to Cordé, her demeanor instantly shifting from argumentative to understanding, and her eyes welled with tears. "I'm sorry," she murmured, then moved her gaze around the room. "I understand. I promised my father that I wouldn't let him down . . . but he wouldn't want his friends to be hurt in any way. I will wait with you."

In all honesty, Cordé was shocked.

A minute ago, Rahya had been red-faced and determined, and the next moment she bent to the other's wills effortlessly.

Cordé was confused, that is, until she caught Luke's embarrassed glance at the floor.

Ah.

It made sense.

He had mind tricked her . . . subtly. He'd been working on that. And if Father knew what he'd done . . . there would be harsh words, she was sure.

Father's rule was that overriding a person's free will, unless absolutely necessary, was unethical. He didn't mind speaking directly to a person and suggesting alternative actions, but taking someone else's words and forcing a person to agree with them . . . That was simply not allowed.

But Cordé had to agree that it was useful. They would have no more protesting from Rahya in the near future.

It took three years for Padmé to take control of her mind.

In many ways, her past before Dantooine seemed like a dream.

The first year, everything was all too real. The twins were a living example of everything she'd lost. She'd lost Anakin, she'd lost her standing in the galaxy.

She continually wondered what would have become of her children if she'd returned to her old life and sent them off to be trained with Obi-Wan. Those few minutes on Mustafar, she thought she could have. The pain of what had happened to her husband was too raw, too new. She was still in denial, and she needed time to mourn. She could have sent Leia off to be adopted by the Organas, and Obi-Wan could have taken Luke to Tatooine to live with his aunt and uncle. She would have disappeared into a shell of who she once was, serving mindlessly under the Empire as she faded every moment.

But then she held her children . . . Her precious twins . . . She felt their tiny heartbeats, held their little hands, and kissed their soft baby hair.

And she knew that never in a thousand lifetimes would she give them up for anything.

She never expected Obi-Wan to follow her into a self-imposed exile. She assumed he would go after Vader at least one more time, then go with Yoda to join forces and start over.

But apparently the universe had a different plan.

She would not have made it alone, without him. He was her support, her firm foundation as they mourned together. He knew Anakin probably better than she did. The two of them—Master and Padawan, teacher and student—were brothers in all but blood.

In absolutely no way did she ever forget Anakin. He was her little bright spot in a crumbling world for a few years. She loved him with all her heart.

But even loved ones betrayed the people around them.

What Anakin did was unforgivable. Completely and utterly unforgivable. He had gone down a path Padmé absolutely could not follow. He had succumbed to that which he had sworn to fight against. A small part of her believed that a bit of light was buried deep in soul, but she had no way of knowing. Who was she to judge? She didn't have the Force to guide her—to tell her whether or not there was good in her husband, still.

Obi-Wan believed he did not. He doubted the presence of the light side of the Force in his apprentice . . . He believed that Darth Vader had completely destroyed what was left of Anakin Skywalker.

"How are you?" A soft voice interrupted Padmé's musings, and Obi-Wan settled himself on the porch step next to her.

The meadow in front of their little house was splattered with patches of water, and the twins, now only three, splashed each other mercilessly with the mud and grass. It would be a horror to clean them, but for now she let them have their fun.

Padmé rested a hand on her pregnant belly and glanced sideways. "Alright," she admitted, "just tired."

"Honestly?" Again, he seemed to read her mind.

She sighed and let the curtain of hair fall around her face. "I miss him," she whispered. "Especially days like this . . . I wish he could watch his children grow up . . ."

His hand rubbed her back absently, and even without the Force she could feel his suppressed emotions. She lifted her head and they gazed out into the clearing, where little Leia had hoisted a fistful of dirt and ambushed her brother, who whirled and returned the favor. Their small voices, though delightedly screaming and giggling, did little to lighten Padmé's mood.

The tears seemed endless these days. She knew it was due to the pregnancy, but at every comment, every thought, and every reminder of Anakin and the life he'd left behind, she fought to suppress her welling tears.

She was torn, though she knew she shouldn't be. At moments like these, she wondered if she should allow herself to love the man beside her at all.

Obi-Wan had been absolutely nothing but supportive this whole time. As a Jedi, he'd been trained to keep his feelings at bay and never let them control his actions . . . But wasn't that exactly what they'd been doing? His presence on Dantooine and his commitment to Padmé and the twins was not purely out of duty. She knew he loved them all, and they returned it. They were a family, for better or worse, and only being a family had gotten them this far.

They waited a whole day on Tatooine.

Han had been to the spaceport many times, so though he didn't know what was suitable for a girl Cordé's age, he knew which bars served the best food. The group crammed into one booth in a less-sketchy-looking cantina. Luke was smashed up against the wall on the inner side, Chewbacca filling up nearly the whole bench, while Han sat facing almost sideways, leaning backward against his wookiee friend, trying to act as nonchalant as humanly possible. The girls sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Cordé in the middle and Leia directly across from her twin.

The time went slower than any of them wanted. They ate their food, sipped their drinks, and talked idly. Cordé's eyes remained wide and uncertain, and Luke wondered if it was only the harsh light that made her look pale.

"This is ridiculous," Han complained, continually. Chewie roared in agreement.

No one replied. None of them liked their situation, but if there was one thing Father never failed to remind them of, it was to trust the Force.

Trust the Force. Luke could hear the phrase in his father's voice. He never doubted it. Since he was a child, the ancient Jedi beliefs had been his life—his foundation. But he also understood the importance of keeping his abilities a secret . . . At age ten, his parents had taken himself and Leia aside and talked, thoroughly, about the dangers of the Force and what it presented to them. It had all seemed surreal at the time, but Luke now understood the gravity of the situation. Three Force-users traveling the galaxy were not exactly inconspicuous. He now lived with the knowledge that at any moment someone might come for them. They posed a threat to the Empire, he knew that. And he liked it. He wanted to take the corrupt government down and help a new one rise. He was not ignorant—his mother had told him of better times, when democracy reigned, and every system had a voice. She explained to him of a time when dictators were not tolerated, and the Senate met to discuss issues. The Old Republic seemed like a wild dream to him, as did the Jedi Order.

But now it had become a reality, in the short time since he left his planet. The Empire was out of hand, he thought. There was order to it, but corruption and the longing for power made it an unachievable dream. Dictators never worked. When the people never chose what was best for them, absolute madness ensued.

The Emperor led by fear. No one would step out of line, because his troops had slaughtered entire villages for just one protest. No one dared make a noise in the silent vacuum of the Empire.

. . . Except for one group. The Rebellion.

Luke was, to put it simply, shocked by what they had accomplished already. They were untraceable, like shadows. But at every turn, they always managed to put a sizeable dent in the government. They struck at the most unforeseen moments, with more force than anyone thought possible. They took every chance, even the tiniest chances of possibilities.

Rahya had told them the story of the battle of Scarif, which took place only a few short standard days ago. That fearless, selfless band of Rebels had risked everything. They had died for the good of the galaxy . . . And now none other than R2-D2 held the fruits of their labor, in the form of a tiny data disk. It was their last hope. Their one big accomplishment and chance against the Empire. Luke could only dream of being as brave as those Rebels.

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So! I hope you liked that- I loved sticking in the little Rogue One reference :) If for SOME reason you haven't seen it yet, watch it. Best two-and-a-half hours of the last two years.

Anyway, I'll try to get my rear in gear and start updating more regularly, but for now just hang tight, bear with me, and we'll have this fic finished in no time!

Thanks, you guys! You're the best :)