I write this for my children as a
companion to the ones I have asked my sisters and friends to write. They are for my children, and are our legacy
to them, as well as Saché's unborn child and Sabé's unborn daughter. I write it so that I am not forgotten.
My name is Padmé Amidala Naberrie
Skywalker. I am twenty-six years of age
as I write this. This is my story, as I
write it now.
I was born in a swamp village on
Naboo. I was discovered by a government
advisor when I was ten, and was elected as Princess of Theed not long after,
when I was just eleven. I then was
trained in self-defence and political ways with five other girls, the girls who
would become my handmaidens should I be elected ruler of the Naboo. They were my closest friends from almost the
moment we met. Sabé, especially, was
like my sister. The others – Saché,
Rabé, Yané and Eirtaé – were all nearly as close to me as Sabé.
All of them were trained to act
as my decoy should the need arise, but Sabé pulled it off better than anyone
else. We enjoyed doing it so much, even
when I was elected queen, that sometimes wed even fool Eirtaé, the most
observant of us all. But then the Trade
Federation boycotted my planet and I was forced to take the role of a
handmaiden for my protection, and Sabé was queen. She hesitated only once, when the Jedi asked her to go to
Coruscant with them. She told us that
there would be danger. I told her that
we were brave, telling her that she should agree, and go. That journey was strange. For once my friends didn't surround me –
Rabé and Yané had to stay on Naboo. We
ran straight into the droid control ship of the Federation, and had to put down
on an outer rim planet, Tatooine. Now,
I look back and wish with all my heart that we had never landed there and met a
small boy named Anakin Skywalker.
He called me an angel when we
first met. He was such a sweet little
boy. Then, when a sandstorm blew up, he
took us back to his house to shelter. I
met his mother, Shmi. She was
lovely. She and Qui-Gon shared many
glances and conversations about Ani – he was destined to help us, Shmi told
us. He podraced to get us our
parts. I didn't trust that plan. But I had no choice – I was just a
handmaiden.
So we got our parts, and headed
on to Coruscant, with Anakin as an extra passenger. He gave me a pendant, a tiny snippet of a wood called Japor. I knew that wood was scarce on
Tatooine. He'd carved it for me, so
that I'd never forget him. I told him
that I'd never stop caring for him. I
felt a strange bond to this poor boy.
Coruscant sped by so quickly I
sometimes wonder if it was a dream. I
called for a vote of no confidence in Valorum. Sabé, I know, disagreed with that decision, but she was not queen, I
was, and I had to do what I thought best. I lied to Anakin about who I was. I left Coruscant, knowing that the Senate was collapsing and that my
planet was suffering. I left Palpatine
to try and win the election to become chancellor.
I didn't care about that. I wanted my planet back. When we got back to Naboo, I revealed myself
to the Gungans. Two parts of me
suddenly became a whole. Sabé was
surprised. So was Anakin. I hoped that he would forgive me. A few hours later, we stormed the palace and
retook it. Rabé and Yané were fine – a
little worse for torture, but still intact. Eirtaé was a different matter.
On Coruscant she'd formed an
attachment to Qui-Gon Jinn. I won't say
whether it was love, but looking back, I know it was. Qui-Gon was killed in a battle with a Sith Lord sent to capture me. Obi-Wan Kenobi, his apprentice, killed the
Sith after his master was mortally wounded. Eirtaé fell apart. I don't think
she ever got herself back together really. She found that she was pregnant with Qui-Gon's child. I couldn't be there for her. I had to be Amidala. I had to be a strong queen for my people.
We made peace with the Gungans
formally. Anakin became a Jedi Padawan
and left with Obi-Wan Kenobi as his master. Sabé, I know, was sad to see Obi-Wan leave. From then on I noticed a ring of twisted hair on her finger. I never commented on it.
For the next few years, life went
on as normal. I made Eirtaé take about
a year off for her daughter, Tallé. She
agreed reluctantly, but returned when Tallé was two. I think knowing that we were there for her was the only thing
that kept her together.
Anakin returned as often as his
Jedi duties allowed, and his crush on me developed into something deep. When I'd been voted out of office, when I
was eighteen, he was but thirteen. He
first kissed me when he was sixteen and I was twenty-one. I know that Yané thought him a little young,
but I didn't care. I was in love with
him.
Sabé also fell deeper in love
with Obi-Wan. Saché fell in love with a
local man. We were content, in our
house in the country. But I was not
happy. Neither was Sabé. We had been bred for politics and
diplomacy. When we were asked to become
senators, we jumped at the chance. Saché was married a few short weeks before we left. Anakin was nineteen then. I was twenty-four. Ten years after we'd first met.
Sabé and I were senators for only
one term – two standard years. I
married Anakin halfway through the second year. He was then twenty-one. I
loved him so much – he was so caring. But he was also angry, and I was aware of Obi-Wan's fears of him turning
to the dark side; becoming a Sith. I
hoped rather than believed Obi-Wan's fears to be false.
When our term was ended, Anakin
and I returned to the house on Naboo. I
was pregnant at the time, and I told him when we'd reached the house. I'll never forget the look on his face; awe,
and wonderment, and joy all wrapped up in one. That's how I'll always remember him, I think.
Sabé remained behind to marry
Obi-Wan. I was happy for her – she
deserved happiness. We all deserved
happiness. Rabé and Yané, I suspected,
had found it in each other. Saché was
pregnant when we returned, expecting her first child. She was practically glowing with it. Saché always was beautiful. Eirtaé – my poor Eirtaé had grown even more distant. She was alive with Tallé, her nine-year-old
daughter, but at few other times.
Once Sabé had arrived, we sisters
were all together again. We had such
happy days for a few weeks. Then one
day when we went to the lake, tragedy struck. Fortune has never favoured our group, it seemed.
Tallé, swimming out in the lake,
was caught in weeds. By the time my Ani
was able to free her, it was too late. Tallé was dead. He tried to
resuscitate her, but he either could not, or – my heart fears – he would
not. Eirtaé was so calm, none of us
suspected what she would do when she reached the kitchen of our home and slit
her wrists.
She was rushed to hospital;
Obi-Wan was able to stop the bleeding. She was asleep for three days, and when she woke up she was rigorously
tested for mental instability. We
couldn't stop what happened – I suspect that Eirtaé deliberately made herself
appear mad so that she wouldn't have to face the outside world again. Whatever she did, she was confined to a
mental hospital until her mental stability was restored. She was let out only once; Tallé's funeral.
It was a dull day, rainy and
grey. Saché held Eirtaé. Yané and Rabé showed their love in public
for once. Sabe wept only once we had left,
clinging to Obi-Wan. I didn't cry at
all, clinging unashamedly to both my training and Anakin to keep me from
falling apart. Tallé had been the life
and soul of all of us.
Anakin had to go away after that
– on a mission with Obi-Wan. I remember
the conversation I had with him very clearly.
"Anakin," I said. "You will come back soon?" He looked at me with his blue eyes and
smiled. The smile barely reached his
eyes. "I will, my Padmé," he
promised. His voice was different,
sending a chill down my spine. I could
feel Sabé, Saché and Obi-Wan watching us. He bent and kissed me, and I clung to him, knowing that I probably would
never see him again. He left, and
Obi-Wan came to say goodbye to me.
"Be prepared," he warned me
softly, before disappearing into the transport. I couldn't watch them leave; I turned around to Sabé. "We need to be prepared to hide," I told her
softly. She looked at me compassionately
and I lost control for five minutes. I
wept into my friends' arms.
Three months later, Obi-Wan came
and took Sabé and I away. Sabé told the
others that it was better they didn't know where we were going. They accepted it – of course they did. I didn't trust myself to say anything, so I
just hugged each of them tight to me and left.
Obi-Wan took us to Tatooine, the
one place we were sure that Darth Vader would never return. He had been a slave here, after all. By now, Sabé was showing her pregnancy, as
were Saché and I. I was larger than the
others, I think, because I bore twins. A boy and a girl, who I would name Luke and Leia.
Obi-Wan left us on Tatooine,
farming moisture from the air. I was
not satisfied with this existence, but I knew it was necessary. We were helped by Obi-Wan's sister-in-law, Beru
Lars. Obi-Wan's brother, Owen, would
have nothing to do with us. I will
trust my son to him though. Luke will
be safe there.
Obi-Wan returned a few weeks
later, carrying with him four stories. He told us that Vader had killed Yané and Eirtaé. I almost couldn't bear to hear the rest. But Rabé and Saché were safe in Otoh
Gunga. I would probably never see them
again.
We live here now in the
desert. My skin is growing more
freckled, fairer. My hair will soon, I
think, turn white with this heat. I don't
care. I sit here now and write this and
gaze down at my tiny twins. Obi-Wan
must soon take Leia to Bail Organa, my good friend the Viceroy of
Alderaan. Luke will be taken by Sabé to
Owen and Beru. I think it will break my
heart – break the pieces, I mean. Anakin has seen to the destruction of my heart quite adequately.
But I will survive, for my
children's sake, for Sabé's sake. I
will not give Vader the satisfaction of destroying me. I am alive. I survive. Someday, my twins
will know who I am.
My name is Padmé Amidala Naberrie
Skywalker. I am twenty-six years
old. This was my life, such as it has
been. I hope my twins can forgive me
for creating both the Emperor and Darth Vader. If there is an enemy in the galaxy, surely it was me.
Luke, Leia, I give you this and
my love. It is an old Naboo poem-song,
sung to me by my mother.
Liberty, this is our destiny,
We can all build a new history,
Feeling like something has set me
free,
Knowing I belong in the tribe.
I believe, you and I,
That together, we're the guiding
light.
I can dream my heart is telling
me,
I can dream, my heart is telling
me,
I have seen this world of love
and peace,
I have breathed the air of life.
Liberty, this is our destiny,
We've arrived and can do
anything,
Now's the time for us to
celebrate,
Now's the time to be alive.
I believe, you and I,
That together, we're the guiding
light.