Part IV: Sacrifice (Approximately 13 years after the Phantom Menace; 8 months after Part III of this story.)
Amidala slipped into the room and stood silently in the doorway. The silver glow from Agamar's single moon filtered through the window and fell softly on the crib where her babies slept. She moved towards the bed, and leaned in to see the perfect little faces of her children. Leia was curled up in a tight ball, fists clenched at her side. Luke lay still beside his sister, his chest rising and falling with each small breath. They were so helpless and innocent, so blissfully ignorant of the war that raged around them and threatened their very existence.
The young mother reached out to touch the tiny fingers of her infant daughter. Leia instinctively grabbed hold of her hand, and Amidala's heart swelled with both pride and grief. This isn't how it should be, she thought for the thousandth time. This isn't how their lives should begin.
Amidala pulled the blankets tighter around the twins, pausing to run a hand over their soft skin, to brush a lock of stray hair from her son's forehead. She could not help but think that all too soon, they would both be cradled in the arms of strangers. Her children, the children she had loved before birth, would become someone else's children. She would not hear the sounds of their cries in the night, or their halting attempts at their first words. She would not be able to run to their rescue when they fell, or rejoice in their musical laughter. They would not reach for her when they needed her most. They would never call her "Mother."
They would not even know each other. Obi-Wan had insisted that the only way to maximize their safety was to separate them. Every part of Amidala fought against it. To split up the twins was to take away a connection formed long before they entered the world. They would forever feel that void, always wondering where the other half of themselves had gone. Amidala had argued and pleaded, but in the end, she knew Obi-Wan was right. If the Emperor somehow discovered the existence of Skywalker's children, it was better that they were as far apart from each other as possible. Amidala gave in to the logic of her mind, her heart screaming that she was making a terrible mistake.
Amidala battled against the wave of anguish that threatened to overtake and consume her. This is what we planned for. This is what we need to do, the small voice of reason reminded her.
No, she fought back. It's not fair.
It's what needs to be done…
Obi-Wan appeared silently at the doorway. "Is it time?" she asked without turning to face him. Her voice wavered slightly, but held strong.
"It is," he replied. As he spoke, two shrouded figures slipped in beside him. "Quo-Lana and Sha-Orn will take them to the ship."
Amidala nodded wordlessly. She leaned in close to her babies, taking in their sweet smell, the soft whispers of their breath against her cheek, the gentle curves of their chubby cheeks and noses and lips. Tears escaped from her eyes and streamed down her face. She made no attempt to fight them back or hide them from view. "No matter what happens," she whispered, "No matter where you go, or what you do, or who you become… Always remember…" Her voice choked slightly. "Always remember that your mother loved you very much."
Leia's eyes suddenly fluttered open, and focused on the face above her. She held her mother's gaze for several heartbeats. In that instant, Amidala knew that somehow, her daughter understood every word she spoke.
Amidala kissed Leia, and then Luke. She held them both in her arms, the warmth of their tiny bodies clinging to her like a cloak. Then slowly, as if trapped inside of a horrible nightmare, she stepped towards the Jedi Knights, and handed her most precious possessions over to them.
The Jedi accepted the babies solemnly, knowing the heavy price their mother paid. They carefully hid the twins beneath their cloaks, then silently vanished into the night.
Amidala felt as if her soul had been suddenly and violently wrenched from her body. She had thought that losing Anakin was enough to make her immune to this ache inside of her. But even a broken heart feels pain.
She wept openly, for her babies, for her lost love, for herself. The coldness of lost hope settled in around her, and she gave into its inexorable embrace. Her knees collapsed from under her, and Obi-Wan was immediately at her side. He held onto her, steadying her, comforting her, grieving for her loss.
How could she go on now? How could she live, knowing that everything worth living for had disappeared into the darkness?