a/n: may the fourth be with you! i've had this plot running through my head for a while, and star wars day seemed like the perfect time to upload it.
(to all my fans of ghost protocol, don't worry! updates are coming very soon. đź’ś i've been struggling with chronic illness for the past few years. it's made writing very difficult, even though it's my passion. but things are looking up- i've finally got diagnoses, i've got medications, mobility aids, etc. about time lol!)
i hope you all know that i appreciate you more than i can put into words. ❤️ i love you all and i hope you have a fantastic star wars day!
The air swirling around her was damp, and cool. Far too cool for her taste. Padme groaned, rolling to her other side, and pulling the thin sheet along with her. Gods damn it, why was her apartment so karking cold? Had See-Threepio been messing with the thermostat?
No, that didn't make sense. Threepio was a droid, he didn't need to cool off the same way a human did. He wouldn't have had any reason to crank up the air conditioning. And even if he did, why would he crank it up so kriffing much?
Padme shivered. And sighed. Apparently, the only solution would be to crawl out of her marginally comfortable bed, pull on a sweater, and adjust the apartment's temperature controls herself.
She tentatively eased one foot out from under the sheet.
That's not right.
Experimentally, she grazed her legs together again. Then she slid her foot across the cold surface she was lying on.
That's definitely not right.
Two things occurred to her at once:
One, she was completely and utterly naked.
And two, she was not lying in a bed. For some reason, she was lying on the galaxy's coldest floor.
What in the worlds had happened? A few hours ago, she'd been comfortably dressed in her favorite nightgown, tucked into her warm bed on Coruscant. How had she lost both her pajamas and her mattress without waking up?
Her first thought was that Anakin had come home- but no, she would definitely have remembered losing her nightgown in that way. Unless- had he convinced her to play another Outer Rim drinking game with him?
No, that couldn't be it. The first and only time they'd played, she'd woken up with the worst hangover in human existence. She'd sworn on all the old gods to never drink hard liquors again. And she didn't have a hangover now, so she couldn't have gotten drunk recently.
A crease knit her brow together, a frown tugging on her lips as real concern flooded through her. Was she even in her apartment anymore? Had she been drugged? Kidnapped? Oh sweet Force-
She threw back the sheet, sitting bolt upright, heart hammering as she blindly searched the darkness.
Where am I? Where am I?!
Her palm dug into something sharp- Padme glanced down, and realized it was a rough stone jutting up from the ground.
She was in some sort of cavern- now that her eyes were adjusting, she could see that much. All around her was the sound of rushing water, and a thin mist swirled through the air, clinging to her frigid skin. Padme shivered violently, drawing her knees up to her bare chest. She was once again keenly aware of her nudity. What if someone was watching h-
"Padme Naberrie Amidala," a deep, rasping voice intoned.
She gasped, shooting to her feet- and suddenly she could see again. Her heart stuttered for a moment, then stopped altogether.
She stood on a circular platform hewn from rough stone- no, a huge, circular cliff! To her every side, a sheer face of dark rock dropped off into oblivion.
A deep red river churned nearby- although it had no source, it unfaltering ran in circles around the cliff's circumference. Just as mysteriously, it infinitely poured off the cliff, forming a jagged waterfall, plunging into the murky depths below.
She blinked rapidly, her brown eyes adjusting, until she could finally see through the red mists that rose up from the river.
No… no, it can't be. It can't be.
Padme swallowed tightly, and tried to ignore the dread that nearly drowned her heart.
The cliff she stood on was sealed inside a towering cavern. Black stone arced almost endlessly overhead, stretching so far and wide that in some places she couldn't even see the walls of the cave. But she'd still seen enough to know where she was.
So this is the end, then.
She knew this cavern. Every child on Naboo knew this cavern. Most of them had nightmares about it.
What happened next would be inevitable. Still, she had to fight back tears as she turned towards the center of the cliff, and looked up.
Now she could see far enough ahead to see the tiered dias in the center of the cliff. It towered over her, at least thirty meters high at its flatterend peak. Although hewn from the same dark stone as everything else, it was splattered with red stains. She didn't want to think about what those were.
Atop the dias sat a throne forged from charred, blackened bones. Blood-red flames rose up from them.
And within the flames sat the Naboo god of death.
He was only a silhouette, completely concealed by the terrible curtain of fire. But he was no less imposing than if he'd been standing just before her. Trembling, Padme fell to her knees. She pressed her forehead to the ground, her dark hair falling over her like a curtain as she genuflected.
"Great Lord, I am at your mercy," she murmured in Nubian, fervently reciting the first lines of the prayer she'd known since childhood. "Show favor to your mortal servant."
The red mist still clung to her, mingling with the cold sweat breaking out on her brow. This was the end: she had died, somehow, without recalling it; perhaps an assassin had slit her throat in her sleep. But how she had died was irrelevant; all that mattered now was how the ancient Dead God judged her soul.
Padme shut her eyes tightly against the stinging tears that welled there. She'd had her chance. Oh Force, she'd had a better chance than most mortals. She'd been raised on Naboo, and raised to worship the planet's gods. Her elders had always warned her about what would happen when she died: she'd be sent to Helaitraa, the realm of the Dead God, where the ancient deity would pass judgement on her soul.
But she'd never really believed… certainly, when she'd been very young, she'd prayed to the unnamed god of death, but once she'd grown up…
She'd worshipped on occasion, and on all the major holy days, as was proper for a Nubian woman. But she'd never been truly devoted. She'd never truly believed in the gods of her homeworld. To her they'd been myths, fables, stories to teach morality to young children. They'd been an important piece of her culture, and one she'd paid due deference. But if anyone had told her she'd go to Helaitraa once she died, she'd have tried not to roll her eyes.
Oh, damn her stupidity!
Now she was here, shivering on the ground as the Dead God rose off his throne. Would he cast her into the boiling rivers to punish her unfaithfulness? Or would he recognize the good she had done as Naboo's queen and senator? Could she beg for a chance to attone- perhaps he'd allow her to be reincarnated, and serve her penance in the mortal realm?
As she pressed her forehead to the dusty ground, still fervently whispering the proper prayers, she heard the Dead God's heavy footfalls approach- slowly, at first, but with ever-increasing speed.
Padme shut her eyes tightly. Tears welled behind them. For one moment, the existential terror lessened, and she thought of her still-living husband. At least, she hoped he was still alive. There was no true way of knowing, not with the war separating them.
Oh, Anakin… I'm so sorry.
She always promised him she'd be careful… but somehow, she'd gotten herself killed. Why else would she be sitting in Helaitraa now?
At least her death had been quick and clean- simple; done in her sleep. She hadn't suffered. She hoped that fact would give Anakin a bit of peace.
But all these thoughts washed away as a gloved hand touched her shoulder. Padme flinched, but stayed silent, still trembling as she realized the ancient god was standing just before her.
"There is no need for this, gentle queen," the Dead God rumbled, his voice like thunder, his rasping breaths echoing through the cavern. His gloved hand gently traced the line of her bare shoulder. "You may rise."
Tentatively, Padme lifted her brown eyes. Peering through her lashes, she saw the deity kneeling just before her.
The only images she'd seen of the god had been crude paintings on temple walls. They had never been anything more than a simple black silhouette, shaped around the Dead God's dark cape and helmet. The worst part had always been His two oversized, glowing scarlet eyes; they were the only facial features He was ever depicted with.
It was terrifying enough to see the larger-than-life paintings of Him in the dim temples… but to see Him in person...
The Dead God was at least three meters tall, perhaps more. He was completely encased in black armor, from his broad shoulders to his dark steel boots. A rough cape fell around him, pooling on the cavern floor, clasped at his neck by a crude chain. And his face…. Padme's brown eyes widened, and she had to stifle a gasp.
His face was covered by a skeletal metal mask- a triangular grill formed the mouth, capped by a small, triangular nose. Sharp cheekbones cut across the sides of his "face," reaching back to touch his shining helmet. And his eyes… oh gods, his eyes! They were wide, far too wide for any natural human face. And they were made of fire… balls of shining scarlet flame.
Padme stared, mesmerized, any thought of etiquette before the deity vanishing. His eyes were… hypnotic, almost. The fire seemed to scorch her soul, but in a eerily pleasant way- a warmth had spread through her chest as she stared into them, and she found herself sucked in, entranced, not wanting to pull away…. She felt as if she was welcome to stare. And although she had never in her life seen eyes like these, there was something so familiar about the way she looked into them, and the way they stared so intensely back at her….
Padme shuddered suddenly. She knew that every mortal arrived at Helaitraa unclothed- they were laid bare before the god of death, body and soul. There was nothing improper about it; unlike the other gods, the Dead God did not indulge in pleasures of the flesh- not food nor drink nor mortal beauty. The Dead God was death incarnate; He did not have such desires. Justice for each soul was His only end.
But as Padme stared into His flaming eyes- although his eyes had never left her face, not once taking in her body- she wasn't sure that was true.
As if the ancient deity sensed her discomfort… of course he sensed it, he understood her soul in its entirety… he removed his cloak, draping it around her shoulders. Instantly, it transformed into a black velvet dress- in shock, Padme glanced down at herself. It was very modest, she was relieved to see. In fact, it was a perfect copy of the handmaiden's robes she'd worn to disguise herself when she was queen, down to the hood draped loosely over her curls.
She wondered if it would be inappropriate to smile in gratitude at the Dead God.
Gently, his gloved hands slipped into hers, as he stood and pulled her to her feet.
"Don't be afraid, Padme." He murmured. "I will never harm you."
"T-thank you, Great One," she stuttered back in Nubian. She was still reeling, too disoriented to realize He'd been speaking to her in Galactic Basic.
She swallowed tightly. "I… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I was never…" The former queen trailed off, finally realizing she didn't have to speak to Him in Nubian.
The ancient god tipped his head slightly to the side, as if confused by her lingering terror. "You were never truly devoted to the gods?" He asked, finishing her sentence. His gloved hands came to rest lightly on her shoulders. "It's no matter. There are many things I consider when judging a soul. You, dear one, have done far too much good in your life for me to ever condemn you."
Padme let out a soft breath of relief, her limbs still shaking, but not so visibly anymore. The god's rasping breaths still echoed through the cavern; now, it was almost soothing… steadying, in a way. Padme tried to slow her shallow breaths, timing them to the Dead God's.
Khh-kssssshh….
Khh-kssssshh….
Khh-kssssshh….
The god ran his hands soothingly across her upper arms, giving her the time to steady herself. Padme dropped her eyes to the cavern floor- it was impossible to calm herself when she was drawn into His hypnotic, flaming eyes.
"We don't have much time." The Dead God said. He sounded strangely… remorseful.
Padme nodded, her heart fluttering. So this was it. Her time had come. The Dead God had promised not to harm or condemn her, so then… she had to be sent to one of the better realms of the afterlife, didn't she?
Her fingers fiddled anxiously with the sleeves of her new gown. There were seven realms of the land of paradise, Mietraa; the better the realm, the more difficult it was to attain. The First Realm was the greatest, reserved only for the heroes worthy of legend. Conversely, the Seventh Realm- the lowliest in Mietraa- was open to all relatively decent mortals.
(There were also seven realms to Hiekkonrra, the land of tortures. But Padme already knew the Dead God wouldn't condemn her to that fate, so she tried to push those nightmarish thoughts out of her mind.)
Where would the Dead God send her? Could she hope to have attained the Third Realm of Mietraa, perhaps even the Second?
"Listen to me carefully." The Dead God commanded. Padme nodded, looking up to meet his flaming eyes again. Once she did, He continued: "You are still asleep in your apartments on Coruscant."
The former queen gasped. "You mean- I-I'm not dead?"
Padme's heart thundered. Was there a chance, however small, that she could return to the realm of mortals? That she could see her husband once again?
The Dead God raised his gloved hand, and gently cupped her cheek. "No, you have not passed away yet. But if you want to stay alive, you need to do exactly as I say."
Padme nodded again, feeling the blood drain from her face. Sweet Force, what else could happen to her today?
"There are assassins about to enter your home- twelve of the order of Malkite Poisoners, and another six of the Blood Carvers. Your security forces have already been compromised, and there will be no time for you to call for help." His free hand tightened around hers. "As soon as you hear the crash, open your bedroom window. Don't stop to bring anything with you."
"I-I will." Padme stuttered.
The Dead God nodded once, satisfied. "Once the window is open, climb onto the ledge. A bright green speeder with an open cockpit will be approaching quickly on your left, many floors below you. As soon as you see it, jump."
"Jump?" She gasped.
"Yes. Don't pause to try and time your jump, or it will be too late, and the speeder will pass by before you can land on it." The ancient deity set his hands on her shoulders, leaning closer. "I hold little sway over the mortal realm, but I have used all the powers at my disposal to arrange this escape. You will survive the fall- but only if you jump exactly when I have told you to. Otherwise, the other air traffic will crush you."
"I understand," Padme whispered, trying not to think about the hundreds of brutal injuries she could obtain from this.
"Once you land on the speeder, tell the driver to take you to the fifth sublevel. After you've landed, get out immediately and run."
She was trembling again, terror seeping through her bones even as she frantically memorized the directions the god had given her. But she had the clarity of mind to ask, "Where do I run to?"
"The speeder will land at a nightclub. Run through it and exit out the back. Keep running down the street until you see the maintenance tunnel."
"The maintenance tunnel," Padme repeated, murmuring the instructions beneath her breath. "The green speeder, the nightclub, the maintenance tunnel."
All of Coruscant had vertical maintenance tunnels running from the surface to the hundredth sublevel. They were mainly accessed by droids, and required special codes to enter. She didn't know how in the worlds she would get inside the tunnel without one, but who was she to question a god? After all, this was certainly the sanest part of His plan so far.
"Climb up the ladder within the tunnel until you reach the highest point." The unnamed god instructed. "There will be a door to exit from. Run straight into the Jedi Temple. Stop for no one."
"I-I will." Padme stammered. "I understand, Great One."
He brushed a stray curl back from her face. "My name is Vader."
Padme froze, completely floored. No one knew the Dead God's name. It was too sacred to be heard by a mortal, much less spoken by one….
"Vader," she breathed, the name falling from her lips like a holy prayer.
"And that name is for you alone." He added quietly.
She nodded, still nearly speechless. "But… why me?"
He tipped his head slightly to the side, his flaming eyes glowing brighter as he studied her. "Skywalker may be the Jedi's Chosen One," He finally answered, "but you, dear queen, are mine."
He looked up suddenly, staring into the distance, as if seeing something she could not.
"We're out of time." He said. The note of regret had entered his voice again. "Be safe, Padme."
"Thank you, Lord Vader." She whispered. For a brief moment, their eyes met once more, scarlet flames reflected in brown irises. Then her vision slowly crept to black, and the warmth of Vader's fiery eyes faded into the oblivion of sleep….
to be continued...