Luke's second day working in the Senate began, at the very least, in much the same way that his first did. He still wrote his daily letter to Tatooine. He still checked in vain for a reply. And then he still did intensive research into the bills and proposals that would be put forward that day, but he spent most of his time on Leia's research. It was extensive—whether the Empire wanted to deride her or not, her points were sound—and it took him much of the morning. It was a good thing he'd never dropped the habit of getting up with the suns on the farm every morning; being an early bird came in handy.
That research was where the similarities ended, however. He attended the Senate for the morning and paid acute attention, voting on the bills wherever he could. When the break for lunch came, he took the hour to clear his head, then refreshed his memory of the afternoon proposals. That was when Pooja sprang her invitation on him.
"Luke!" She came right into his office without halting—Luke grimaced. He should probably change the code on the door from what it had been when she was senator. "I'm glad to see you're keeping your head down in the Senate today."
Sabé, despite the fact that she very much agreed with Pooja's aims for Luke, grunted. Pooja ignored her.
Luke tried for a smile as his sister took his hands. "I promised I'd be careful. You can trust me to take care of myself."
"I know." She had turned sombre for a moment, but that rapidly vanished again. "And I bring good news! Her Majesty wanted me to invite you to tea after the Senate."
Sabé stiffened.
Luke opened his mouth, then closed it again, before saying, "Really? I'm… honoured by her interest."
"She fears you got off on the wrong foot with her disparaging comments yesterday. You'll join us, right?"
Sabé was shaking her head fiercely behind Pooja. Luke couldn't react with his face without clueing his sister in, so he just flicked his gaze between them frantically.
But Pooja's hands were on his. His sister was here, after being distant for so long. He had come here to bring her home.
"How could I say no?" he asked, and Sabé's voice turned to thunder.
"No!" she demonstrated. "Luke, you've got all that research of Leia's still to wade through, and meetings to prepare for—"
"I'm sure Princess Leia will understand." Pooja's voice went flat, then light again. "Her Majesty would really like to meet you in a less formal setting."
"And I'd be thrilled to meet her," he said weakly. The Senate would finish about five o'clock, perhaps six. Rather late for a tea party, but he wasn't one to correct the Empress's circadian rhythms.
"Perfect." Pooja's comm chimed and she glanced down, grimacing. "I have to go. Thank you for accepting!"
"How could I refuse?" he reiterated, half to Pooja's retreating back, half to Sabé.
Sabé sank down onto the sofa in the corner of his office and passed a hand over her eyes, saying nothing. She didn't look horrified anymore. She looked afraid.
He was already exhausted from following so many political squabbles when he limped at Pooja's side into Amidala's personal wing of the Senate building. He would not be at his best if they decided to engage him in an ideological debate, but there wasn't much he could do about that.
Amidala received him with open arms. Luke hadn't known what he expected from her rooms—they were hardly her quarters in the Palace—but perhaps it should have been what he got. It was the typical ostentation of power found on Naboo, with strong reds and calmer blues in various places in the décor. Noticeably expensive, in a way that always made Luke feel crowded out, but not, he thought, quite so in-your-face that it was obnoxious. That was how the Naboo worked.
Luke trod carefully on the rich blue carpet of the entryway. He half-expected goober fish to lunge out and gnaw on him.
Pooja took his long cloak, and he shrugged it off fairly happily. The burgundy hood slipped onto the hook and hung there, almost invisible against the ornate wallpaper. With his cloak gone, he noticed it was colder than he'd expect from the luxuries of an Empress's private rooms, but he understood why the moment they stepped out of the cloakroom and into the living room.
Vader stood in the corner. His shadow was chilly, but Luke wasn't sure temperature was the only reason goosebumps crackled up his back.
Their impromptu staring match, however, was interrupted by the Empress herself. She breezed into the living room in a totally different gown to the large, stately one she'd been wearing in the Senate—this was slimmer and seemed more movable, peach with gold embroidery patterning it and slightly puffed sleeves. Her hair was loose, which made Luke almost uncomfortable. It seemed too intimate.
"I'm so glad you could join us." She swept her hand and seated herself carefully on one of the neat cream sofas near to the window. "Let me know what sort of drinks you would like, and I'll get them for you."
"You'll get them?" Luke asked before he could stop himself.
"Of course! I'm the host."
Queen Dalrana didn't fetch mint water when she was hosting, but Luke held his tongue. Pooja ordered a Karlini tea, so he just ventured, "Hot chocolate?"
Amidala paused, her smile growing wider. "Of course." She bustled away to fetch the tray. Luke sat stiffly on the sofa.
"How did you find the Senate today?" Pooja asked.
"Good," he said absently. The cushion beside him was printed with a fleur-de-lis design, crimson against white. He fiddled with the golden tassels that hemmed it.
"You mean incredibly boring."
"It was good to get to grips with things. I think I understand more or less how things work now, and who's working with whom."
"The Senator's briefing." Pooja nodded. "You've never had patience for that stuff before."
There it was again—that probing.
"You always used to do good, in your role," he said. He didn't mean to use the past tense. Hopefully, she wouldn't think much of it. "I wanted to help people. And I didn't have to patience for medicine, which was my other bet."
"I thought you liked engineering. Inventing. Building things."
"I do. And I still do those things. But public service can do so much good."
"Do not underestimate the power of creation."
Luke flinched, and unwittingly tore some tassels off the cushion he was fiddling with. He dropped his hand to his side before anyone noticed and glanced up at Vader. Suns, he was right in front of him. "My lord?"
Vader, now lurking next to the Empress's sofa like a mynock hanging out by a power cable, crossed his arms over his chest. "Building things can be of immense help to people. Droids. Inventions."
"And weapons, I suppose?" Luke asked before he could stop himself. His sister elbowed him behind their backs—an art they had perfected from years at the dinner table.
Vader didn't seem to pick up on the jab. "Indeed. And weapons." Luke grimaced. "If you are skilled with them, machine parts are far more reliable than people."
"I wouldn't say that," Luke said. "They're just… more predictable." He conceded, "They're nice to return to at the end of the day. When I'm tired of arguing with politicians."
"You are a politician," Vader pointed out. Amusement coloured his tone. Pooja snorted.
Luke smiled thinly. "Theoretically."
"More than theoretically, I'd say," Amidala cut in. She held a tray of three mugs in her hands and carefully manoeuvred it onto the stout little table between the sofas. Luke glanced at the glass surface, then out the wall of windows that it reflected. The Coruscant skyline was glorious, slowly pinking with the late afternoon. "You're certainly skilled with words."
He picked up his cup. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said graciously and took a sip. Something shuddered in him at the taste, and he relaxed.
"I forgot how much you liked hot chocolate." Pooja ruffled his hair. "I missed you."
"It tastes so much better than the black sludge you drink on a daily basis."
"Caf is only for when I need a job done." She lifted her fruity tea to illustrate her point and sipped it herself.
Amidala was watching them both closely. Luke prompted, "Your Majesty?" and she turned her gaze on him, widened her smile, and drank from her own cup.
"Forgive me—I was lost in my own world." She glanced over her shoulder, to where her husband was still hovering, then back to the two of them. Her expression wobbled again, like a mirage in the desert, but remained stoic. "I didn't invite you here just for drinks—I wanted to get to know you better. I've heard so much about you from Pooja."
Luke shot a sidelong look at his grinning sister. "You have?"
"Of course."
"What have you heard?"
She laughed. "Nothing bad! Pooja says you moved to Naboo when you were twelve?"
"I was an orphan from the Outer Rim. I bounced around a few planets before the Naberries reached out." It wasn't a lie, and he wouldn't invite further discussion about it.
"I'm surprised Sola decided to. I had thought she was happy with two children."
"I was a very charming twelve-year-old," Luke said. Padmé laughed again.
"Well, you're a very charming twenty-two-year-old, too. What made you want to go into politics?"
"I was just telling Pooja about this," he said. The coincidence was notable, and he suspected with a rush of warmth that his sister had known this question would come up and wanted him to have an answer ready. "I wanted to help people. I weighed up how I could do that, and public service seemed like a difficult but rewarding route." He nodded at Vader. "But I still take part in some of my other hobbies."
"Like what?"
Luke found his gaze catching on Amidala's rigid little finger as she sipped her tea. It felt pointed somehow, but he didn't move to imitate her; he would only do so much to fit in. He drank his hot chocolate like a normal person.
"I like droids and ships. I like building things. Aunt Sola used to get angry whenever I got my new clothes stained with grease."
"Dad only enabled you, though," Pooja said.
"Oh, Uncle Darred gave me the grease."
Amidala leaned forwards. "My husband is extremely interested in mechanics as well," she said brightly. Luke stiffened unwittingly. "You remind me a great deal of him—you could almost be a mirror of him as a boy." Her gaze roved between them. Vader had his fists clenched at his sides, and he had turned to stare at Luke.
Luke hoped that the layers of makeup he caked onto his face every morning would generalise his features into dullness. There were no similarities to be found between himself and Lord Vader, but he didn't want the Empress inventing some anyway.
She said at last, "You have a grand collection of ships, don't you? Could you show Luke around one day?"
And to Luke's horror, Vader said, "I can."
"Perfect. I'm sure that will be a lovely treat for you after a long, hard day at the Senate." Padmé beamed and patted his hand. Luke tried not to recoil. "But it's wonderful that you joined politics to do good. How have you found it, on Naboo? The democratic system can be fairly stagnant when it comes to making real effects."
"I think…" Luke bit his tongue. "I think, stagnant or not, it's actually good at getting people's voices heard."
"Oh, forgive me—I should have expected you would be favourable towards it. I didn't intend to be confrontational." That was a lie. She was just testing the waters. "I understand that point of view. It's just a shame that on a planet like Naboo, where the Naboo themselves are so bound by tradition, such bureaucratic processes assure that things rarely change even outside of that. The tax system! Isn't that archaic?"
Luke grimaced. "No one has come up with a better one that encompasses the fact that most of the population are artists and work independently."
"No one has tried, though, have they?" They had. He didn't want to get into that; he hated economics, he just had to know about them. "But I digress. Deciding everything in a committee seems fair, but all too often it leads to… tragedy." She rested her fingers on the corner of her teacup and stared into the space between him and Pooja.
Luke wondered if Empress Amidala would milk the Trade Federation's Invasion of Naboo until the day she died.
"Then why did you approve my motion for the creation of a committee about the courts?" he asked. Despite himself, he was curious. Amidala was concerningly magnetic. "If you're so concerned about inaction. The courts are an urgent matter, aren't they? There are plenty of imprisoned Rebels awaiting trial."
"Nothing is so black and white as that. Emergencies and pressing issues require a swift response, but serious, potentially volatile changes deserve due consideration. Recognising that some need to be enacted faster than others is key."
"Like the launch of the Outer Rim Project?" Luke pressed. Pooja widened her eyes minutely. "That didn't even get a vote to pass it."
"Because it was so urgent."
"The Hutts had been a problem for decades—you never addressed it when you were a senator. Why did you address it when you did?"
"Because we could." Her tone was stronger, now, but not yet biting. "As you said. You went into politics to make a difference. The moment I was able to, I made a difference."
That difference was still felt like a scar across the galaxy today. Luke stared, stone-faced.
After a moment of silence, she barked a laugh. "Honestly," she tutted at herself. "I didn't intend to be so intense. Isn't politics cutthroat?"
It took a while for him to realise she expected an answer. "It is. And I understand your logic. I just don't see why the courts aren't pressing to you as well. Surely it's important that everyone faces equal justice?"
Her gaze flickered, quick as a butterfly's wings, to Vader. "Of course," she said smoothly. "But this is the sort of thing that requires careful thought and analysis. I trust Pooja's thought, and from what I've seen from the past two days, I trust yours. Once you have a clear image on how to overhaul the system, we can put it to the Senate."
"And what about the accused Rebels facing trial tomorrow, this week, next month? What if they're condemned on false pretences?"
"Don't worry—suspected Rebels don't get trials. In the case of any anti-Imperial behaviour, swift action is needed to protect the Empire."
"What if they're children in the wrong place at the wrong time?"
Amidala frowned. "They are not," she said.
He pursed his lips. Before he could speak again, Pooja cut in. "You know what it's like on Naboo, my lady," she said. "Trials can drag on for months. Such an ostentatious drama of it in the media. I used to always be surprised at the efficiency of it when people began being tried under Imperial law."
"Naboo is a wonderful world," Amidala mused. "Its system and ideals are as flimsy and out of touch as quilled paper, but it is wonderful. A beautiful dream, certainly."
In Luke's experience, quilled paper was surprisingly tough when you met it head on.
"You must miss it," she continued. "I understand you've only spent ten years or so there, but—"
"I do," Luke cut in. "It's my home. I miss it."
She ignored the reprisal. "When do you think you'll head back next? I understand you just got here, but—"
"Soon. The Festival of Light is approaching, and I have to be there to celebrate that. It's in a few weeks, in fact."
"A few weeks? That's very soon." She worried her bottom lip. "But speaking of beautiful dreams, that is a lovely festival. Celebrating the anniversary of joining the Republic. The Empire. The larger galaxy."
"Joining the Republic and adopting democracy is a major landmark in Naboo's history, indeed."
"I should visit it," she mused. "I remember the last one I attended, in the depths of the Clone Wars. The Separatists tried to kidnap the chancellor! It was a dramatic night." She gazed at her husband. "But a wonderful one."
Luke coughed. "You wish to attend the festival for the anniversary of democracy, Your Majesty?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Luke gave a small, tight smile.
"I'll have to write to Queen Dalrana, of course. I understand she's followed in Sanandrassa's footsteps. Isolationism, shut down much of Naboo's trade. Such a shame. But I'm sure she'll allow an Imperial visit if she is warned in advance."
Luke wasn't so sure. The Empress was, technically, in legal writing, banished. But she also owned the galaxy, including the star Naboo orbited. If she visited, he thought privately, the Amidalan fanatics would swoon.
"How have you found her reign?" she continued. "I understand you were Prince of Theed. You must have been right in the thick of things. And I heard your relationship with many other council members was tense—"
"She's my queen, fairly elected and popular. I support her endeavours."
"I understand a senator has to support the ruler who put him in power." She smiled secretively. "But you do know nothing you say will leave these walls, Luke?"
"I would hope not, but that is irrelevant. I've said nothing but the truth."
"I see."
She made to say more, but Luke and Vader both jerked their heads up. The sharp footsteps came a moment later, and he swivelled around to watch Sabé storm into the room, her beige tunic swirling around her, her dark red boots thudding against the thick carpet.
She relaxed when she laid eyes on him. "Luke! There you are, I was growing—" She clapped eyes on Amidala. "—concerned."
"Sabé," Amidala said, "how lovely of you to join us."
"I'm not joining you, Your Majesty. I just came to get Luke." She fixed him with a look. "Remember, we had—"
His face lit up. "Yeah!" He would take any chance to get out of his—away from Amidala's interrogation and Vader's blank, obsessive stare. He wasn't overly fond of Dalrana, but he wouldn't be pressured into insulting her. "I forgot we had that planned this evening. Your Majesty," he inclined his head, "thank you for the hot chocolate and the chat."
She glanced at his mug, but it was finished—he had no reason to stay. "Of course," she recovered. "I'll make sure we do this again soon." Luke shivered at the threat.
But then she turned her gaze towards Sabé. "How did you get into my private apartments? You could have contacted him."
"Luke is terrible at answering his comm," Sabé responded. "And the guards didn't blink at me. Do you still walk around in plain clothes to view the Senate building through different eyes?"
A smile tugged at Amidala's lips. "They mistook you for me?"
"Apparently." Sabé's returning smile was sharper. "Have no fear, I won't do that again. I was just worried about Luke."
"You shouldn't be. He's perfectly fine here."
Luke stood up. "Thank you for hosting me," he reiterated. And to Pooja, "And for inviting me."
"Anytime." Pooja was giving him an odd look, but he didn't want to dig into that.
"How long have I been, Aunt Sabé?" Luke asked as he circumnavigated the sofa to stand next to her.
"Two hours. Long enough to be concerning."
"Understandable." When she reached the door, he glanced back. "Lord Vader. Pooja." He nodded. "Your Majesty."
Amidala waved it away. "No need to stand on ceremony, Luke. We're family." She showed all her teeth when she smiled. "Call me Aunt Padmé."
Sabé's grip on Luke's hand was more worrying than it was comforting. Anything that worried Sabé worried Luke, even if the Empress seemed not to wish him harm. He ran his thumb over the ropey scars across her knuckles—she'd put foundation on them to hide them, but he could feel them—and it seemed to calm her, a little bit.
"Thanks for coming," he whispered. "I was trying to think of a way to duck out of that."
"After that long? I would be too. I was getting worried."
"You knew where I was the whole time."
"I was still worried."
He squeezed her hand again. She squeezed back.
"What was she talking about?" she murmured, as they ducked into a side corridor and moved farther and farther away from the Imperial quarters. "What did she want to know?"
He made sure they were alone in the corridor—though he didn't know where Sabé was taking him—before answering. "She asked about myself, and when I moved to Naboo, how I found it. Why I got into politics—"
"That's still a mystery to me," she muttered.
"—and how I feel about being away from Naboo. She mentioned how much she loved the Festival of Light."
"Did she see the irony in that?"
"She didn't acknowledge it."
"Naturally. Is that all?"
"I mentioned I liked mechanics, and she got Vader to offer to give me a tour of his ship collection. I'm not excited to take him up on that. But otherwise, you rescued me just as she was pressing for my opinion about Queen Dalrana."
Sabé grimaced. "She thought she had an easy way in with the queen who banished you here."
Luke shrugged. "I can still respect Dalrana despite that."
Sabé clapped him on the shoulder with her free hand. "You soft-hearted wonder."
It was meant in genuine admiration, despite Sabé's usually bitter scepticism, Luke could tell. He smiled.
"Why are you so worried?" he asked lowly. "You know I'm not a fan of the Empress."
"Padmé wasn't a fan of Palpatine either, when she was Queen of Naboo. A few years later, she was eating out of his hand."
"Can you not trust me to use my own judgement? I know what I came here to do." Luke didn't intend it to be biting, but there was a sliver of indignance there. There was only so much fussing from Pooja and Sabé alike that he could take.
"So did Pooja, when she came here."
"Auntie, you're still saying you don't trust me."
"I trust you, Luke. I trust you'll do your best. It's not a reflection on your character that I behave like this." She grimaced. "I know that in your situation, I wouldn't do so well. And I don't want you to face this alone."
Luke took that with mixed feelings. Even if he took all her reasoning into account, it still stung. "What would you do, in my situation?"
"Don't ask me that, Luke." Her voice was almost pleading. "You know I loved that woman."
Luke thought back to the deeply awkward meetings between them. The way Sabé still couldn't stop looking at Amidala. "Loved?"
"We're here," Sabé said abruptly—before they were there, in fact. But it was a change of subject and came only shortly before they rounded another maze-like corner and came up to a door decorated with carvings of snowy mountains. She knocked on the door, then pressed the buzzer, then knocked again.
Luke caught her hand before she could press the buzzer again. Her shoulder slumped, but she made sure she stood to her full height when the door slid open.
"Sabé? Senator Naberrie?" Senator Organa stood in the doorway, one of her guards at her side. "What do you need?"
Sabé seemed frozen, so Luke rescued her. "I apologise for the abruptness, but I had a sudden thought about how we should form the committee, and it seemed urgent. May we come in for a short while?"
Organa glanced between him and Sabé, whose left hand was fidgeting. When Luke glanced at the movements, he recognised them as the ones expressing urgency that could not be explained. Organa seemed to recognise them too.
"Of course," she said, a little warily, looking from Sabé back to Luke. "Come right in and we can discuss it—did you bring your datapad?"
"Yes, I have my notes."
"Perfect." She tapped her helmeted guard on the arm. "Allow them in, Antilles." Luke stepped forwards, Sabé's hand slipping out of his grip, and he glanced back at her once he was inside.
She met his puzzled look. "I need to liaise with Tonra—he's been begging me for updates on how your first two days have gone."
"Have fun," he said uncertainly. Her gaze told him she heard his silent good luck, for whatever she was doing.
"I'll do my best," she said with a wry smile. Then she turned to head down the corridor and Antilles closed the door. The snick of the lock was soft, but noticeable.
Luke deflated. "Thanks for letting me in," he said to both of them. "Sabé got me out of an awkward situation, but I don't get her urgency—I just trust her. I do have thoughts on the research you sent over, but they're not urgent."
Organa smiled wryly. "Well, you might as well share them now that you're here, Senator. But I understand the need for caution in the Senate, especially for someone who just antagonised the Empress."
She beckoned him farther in, past a refresher and into a lounge furnished with a couple of plump sofas. Light streamed in from the windows, which looked out onto the mess of airlanes just south of the Senate building. Luke found himself tracking the erratic movements of speeders through the swarm of traffic.
Organa laughed when she saw his gaze. "I do that. I have my office"—she gestured to a room shut off to the side of the lounge—"separate from the view. Otherwise, I'd get no work done."
"That seems like a good plan," Luke agreed. "And what you said about antagonism—that's the part that concerns me. Empress Amidala doesn't seem antagonised. She seems interested, instead. I think that's why Sabé's concerned." He shook his head. "Anyway. I'll show you the things I noticed—"
"The workday is technically long over," Organa pointed out. Luke graciously didn't point out that the fact she was still in her office in the Senate, instead of in her living quarters, suggested she didn't truly believe that. "Don't feel obliged to dive right into work. I'd rather hear about why you're here—and why Sabé is so worried." She tilted her head. "Not that it takes much to worry her."
"Tell me about it."
Organa laughed. Luke, despite himself, laughed as well. He asked, "How do you know her? She's always so evasive."
"Tell me what I don't know about the Empress, and I'll tell you what you don't know about her former handmaiden," she offered. He raised his eyebrows at her blatant fishing for gossip. "Not everything in politics is about committees, Senator Naberrie. I'll get you a drink and we can make this a social call."
"I'd be grateful for it," he replied. He was exhausted, come to think of it. A full day at the Senate, followed by two hours with his sister, a war criminal, and an empress, and now this. At least Organa seemed open to providing sanctuary for him. "And call me Luke, by the way."
"Sure," Organa said, seating herself on one of the sofas and letting him find his own seat opposite her. "So long as you call me Leia."
Sabé nearly marched down the corridor, trying to lead whoever was following her away from Luke. They hadn't followed her into the south wing of the senators' offices, but they had waited for her to remerge into the corridors where she couldn't spot them as easily.
If she was right, there was a public refresher coming up on her left, just off the main corridor that looped around the Senate chamber on this floor. She kept up her unhurried but business-like pace and ducked through a door labelled WC in faint white glowing letters.
It was a lovely refresher. The floor was dove grey and gleaming, polished almost to a shine. The lights automatically flickered on as they detected movement and reflected brightly in the tiles' mirror-like sheen. The stalls along the wall on the right-hand side were all just as clean, that same grey, and the open doors teetered slightly as she moved past them. They were too well-oiled to make any noise, and so they didn't disguise the padding of shoes against tiles that followed her.
Sabé moved for the sinks and washed her hands, the warm water still a relief after so many sonic washes in space. The soap she used smelled like orange blossoms, and it sent a pang through her even before her shadow stepped around the corner, into the harsh white light.
Sabé glanced up to meet her gaze in the mirror. There were many mirrors above the sinks, some curved to fit the wall, so there were many Padmés staring back at her. "I knew you still crept around in plain clothes every once in a while."
"Why would I stop when it works so well?" Empress Amidala replied. Without makeup she looked older than Sabé remembered—which made sense, seeing as it had been over ten years since she last saw her naked face. Her hair was pulled back in a single plait down her back, and she was wearing the dark red tunic of an aide for an irrelevant senator.
"That's a fair point," Sabé conceded, then dried her hands on one of the scented towels and turned around. The marble of the sinks dug into her back when she leaned on it. "Why are you following me?"
"How long have you noticed?"
"The whole time. You changed your outfit quick."
"You know how I did that. Just as I know how you knew I was following you. We haven't changed, Sabé." She paused, and said a little wistfully, "You still name yourself after me."
"It's my name. I was the handmaiden to the Queen of Naboo, who saved us from the Trade Federation."
"Why don't you want to be my handmaiden now?"
Her mouth turned dry and bitter. "Because I don't."
Padmé took a step forward, her expression urging. "Why?"
"Because I swore myself to Queen Amidala," Sabé bit out. "Not Empress Amidala."
"I'm the same person."
"No. You're not."
Padmé smiled a little, tilted her head, then nodded as though she had to agree. "We're both not exactly the same, then," she admitted. "You're pricklier than before."
"I'm as prickly as I have always been. I just never turned it on you."
"Then why now? Why did you leave? I miss you—I miss working with you. No one else understands like you do."
Sabé closed her eyes and tried not to let her anguish contort her face. She didn't succeed, but it didn't matter. Padmé was too astute a politician to not have noticed, anyway.
"My hands are no longer yours," she pushed out. "I won't let them be."
"Why not? Do you not—"
"Trust you? No! Of course not!"
Padmé had the sheer gall to look stricken. She put a hand over her heart, and the unassuming gold band of her wedding ring glared under the automatic lights. It winked at Sabé like a lighthouse beam, warning her away.
"You trusted Queen Amidala." Thankfully, she balled her hand into a fist, and dropped it back to her side. The ring fell out of sight. "You trusted Senator Amidala."
"There's a big difference between those two people and who you are today, and you know it."
"What's the difference? That I have more influence now? That I can actually do some good instead of untangling bureaucracies that will just get tied into tighter knots by my successors?" She surged forwards; Sabé stepped back, colliding again with the sink. Padmé saw the retreat; her jaw clenched. "We were trying to make a difference, Sabé. We were going to save Naboo, and then we were in the Senate, and we were going to help the galaxy. I'm helping it."
"Ask your husband how he thinks his campaigns help the galaxy."
"I hate his campaigns as well, Sabé, but they're necessary. We have to accept them."
"Maybe you do."
"Are you the one who convinced Luke to add his voice to Organa's accusation against Lord Vader? Because you hate my husband that much?"
"There's no love lost between us, but I assure you: Luke had the motivation to do that all on his own. Vader deserved it for what he's done."
"And what has he done?"
"Well, I'm surprised he's still on Coruscant. I've heard that the situation in the Outer Rim is getting bloodier and bloodier. Shouldn't he be out there contributing to that? Or hunting down the last dregs of the Jedi Order?"
"Don't trivialise the threat—of the Jedi or the Hutts. Perhaps you didn't push Luke into that specific event, but clearly you've poisoned his mind with this—"
"His mind," Sabé bit out, "was already thoroughly poisoned when I met him."
"I see," she said. "You know him well, I suppose."
"He's like family."
Padmé's face tightened. "I see," she repeated. She was zoning out. A politician's mistake.
But then she zoned back in, and her flinty gaze vanished. Instead, the gentleness she regarded Sabé with cut her to the core. "That's good. I'm glad you're so close. You know I always considered you to be family as well. I want you to come back."
"I don't want to come back."
"Is it to do with that last mission?"
"I don't want to come back."
"Then why did you?" Padmé snapped. She took another step forward, and now there was barely a metre between them. "I never expected to see you again, after you vanished. I thought you were dead until I heard about you messing about with some Twi'leks on Ryloth, calling yourself Tsabin. Why have you come back now?"
"Luke is senator now," Sabé said simply. "I came to help and serve him."
"So, he's my replacement?"
The words were meant to strike, not meant genuinely, and Sabé wished they could strike the way Padmé feared. They didn't, because, "No one could replace you." Not even Luke.
"So you just spend your time serving senators now? You weren't exactly here for Pooja—I don't remember you mothering and stifling her like you do with Luke."
"I serve Naboo," Sabé said. "I used to think you did too."
"I do. Even from out here. Even with Dalrana and her predecessors having banished me. Because of me, Naboo's resources are in demand. Our art and culture are thriving. We are protected from attack, and I dissolved the Trade Federation so nothing like that invasion could ever happen again."
"And what about our people?" Sabé snapped back. "Our way of life?"
"I am defending that."
"Our way is democracy. Not empires and conquest. Not war crimes going unaccounted for. Our past is bloody with that horror already—we have rejected that!"
"I never knew you as one for ideology, Sabé."
"I'm not. Ideology only gets people hurt. But I love my planet. I love my people. I love Luke." Her voice broke. "I loved you."
"I'm still the same."
"There are a thousand reasons," Sabé bit out, "you are not."
Padmé stared at her. Sabé couldn't stand that stare—hadn't been able to stand it decades ago, when she was just a teenager with a crush, and she was still learning the lines that separated her queen and her friend. But at least then, she'd been able to trust that that distinction, that authority, would be kept as distant from their relationship as possible. At least then she'd known Padmé would not demand of her something she could not give.
She spun around, shuddering. Tears sprang from her eyes, and she blinked them away. She avoided Padmé's gaze in the mirror and instead dried her hands again—they were damp and sweaty.
"Please," Padmé said at last. "I miss you. I want you as a part of my family."
"What family?" Sabé bit out. She gripped the edge of the sink, the muscles in her shoulders aching with tension. "Ruwee has even more of a problem with your ideology than I do. You can't go back to Naboo to see them."
"I am the Empress. I am their ruler."
"King Veruna was our ruler too and look what we did to him."
Padmé paused.
"I am building my family, bit by bit," she swore. "I have lost my parents. I lost my sister. I lost my child." The way her voice trembled on the word made Sabé want to scream. "I don't want to lose my niece and nephew as well. I don't want to lose you. Please."
Sabé had never said no to Padmé before and kept with it. But she said it now.
"You lost me a long time ago," she said dully, and finally met her gaze in the mirror. "You are not Padmé Amidala. You're just the shadow that Palpatine created."
Padmé collided with her back. Sabé was so surprised that she didn't realise what was happening until she blinked and there was a knife at her throat. Padmé still smelled like orange blossoms, Sabé noticed, with her body against hers. Just as she had every day when they were righteous teenagers, swapping identities and wearing masks with the assurance that one day they could take them off again.
"If you won't come back," Padmé hissed. Her voice was a hoarse whisper against Sabé's ear. "If you won't join me…"
The knife skipped across Sabé's throat. Sabé gasped, eyes wide, the pain drawing her like an anchor back to the horror of the moment.
"Stay out of my way."
Sabé grasped for her neck. With another blink, Padmé was gone, though she hadn't felt her let go, could still smell the stench of orange blossoms and sweat crowding around her face. When she touched the white skin at her neck, her fingers came away dark red.
Not a deep cut. Not quite a scratch, but just as shallow. It still splashed blood down into the hollow of her throat, her collarbone, staining her tunic. Tears joined it.
She put her hand over her neck and pressed it, as if to stop the bleeding. For once, she didn't know what to do, and couldn't even pretend she did.
Padmé Amidala was a monster. Her hero had fallen so far. It had always hurt to know that distantly, to see it in the news and in how her shift had sent cracks shuddering through the ranks of the handmaidens who'd retired. It hurt even more with the sting of the knife at her throat, the blood Sabé had bled for her so many times now weeping into the porcelain sink of a random refresher.
But it could have been so much worse.
It could still be so much worse, if Sabé did get out of her way.
Because if this was what had happened to Padmé, when the wrong mentor took her under his wing—what would happen to Luke?