I'm really enjoying reading all the feedback. Special shoutout to sinking815, Meliroxy, DS2010, and princesselsaamidala22. I went back to the reviews for Returning to Watto's— an excerpt from Suppression which I posted in July— in order to send PMs to those reviewers. I wanted to let them know that I'd begun posting the full story in case they were interested in reading it. Lo and behold, 4 of the 5 reviewers were folks who had already begun leaving reviews for Suppression! That was such a wonderful pleasure to see. And Cheire, I see you there with the (very first!) Watto's review and now the Suppression favorite & alert adds! Glad to see you made here it, too! Thank you all so much for keeping up with it.

Side note: I'm going to delete that excerpt from the site on the last day of this month (Oct. 31st), so if you want a peek at a chapter to come, feel free to take a look while you still can.

A/N: What I felt was missing in depictions I've seen/read of Padmé was the impact the cruiser deaths had on her, especially in the early aftermath. So many of us love Padmé because she cares so deeply about others, but due to the understandable nature of Star Wars, her very plausible grief gets swept under the rug in the name of moving the plot forward. And realistically, how would other Nubians/Coruscanti citizens react if seven servicemen and women were killed in what was, basically, a terrorist attack? So, in trying to depict Padmé as an authentic, three-dimensional person as much as possible, I'm trying to stay true to the reality of what those events would've done to her, to anyone with a heart. She gets there— this is a romantic Anidala fic, not a sad Padmé fic— but she's not the girl who's blissfully beaming at Anakin in the meadow overnight.

Chapter 3. Executive Order

"We never know we go, — when we are going
We jest and shut the door;
Fate following behind us bolts it,
And we accost no more."

- Emily Dickenson

It was the familiar savory smell that roused me awake. When my eyes squinted open, I saw Dormé's oval face looking down on me from her stance next to the sofa. A promising mug was in her right hand. "Caf?" she asked, sweetly.

Oof. Did I fall asleep looking at drafts on the couch again? This was hardly the first time Dormé had found me on the yellow bench, greeting me in the morning with a pleasant smile and a hot cup of my favorite spiced brew.

The apartment was cast in yellowish amber, as the emerging sunrise entered the space like gold filling a basin. It was going to be a beautiful morning. For a wonderful moment, life was as it had been. Normal. Uneventful. I was too recent a visitor of the mind-numbing sleep world, and I didn't yet remember the events of the landing platform. The deaths. The grief. The close call of the second attempt. But the ignorant spell was broken when a shiver went through me, as I realized how frigid the room was, and why. Normally, I kept my apartment at humid, slightly warm temperature that mimicked Naboo's southern climate. It reminded me of home. But the busted window in my bedroom— an area that was merely one open corridor away— must've allowed Coruscant's chilly dry air to infiltrate throughout the apartment during the night.

And with that dawn of understanding, reality came rushing back. Because it was a window broken when a bounty hunter— or their accomplice, I was still hazy on the details, especially now— tried to assassinate me. Had tried again— after slaughtering innocents yesterday.

Cordé. Bern. Torin.

Seven faces flashed before my eyes in quick succession. I stared momentarily at the deep blue ceiling, composing myself, halting the way my lungs seemed to constrict and fill with rocks in my chest. Then I swallowed the grief back. I propped myself up on my left elbow— like I'd prophesied, I had indeed rolled over in my sleep to better adjust myself to the "C" curve of the sofa— and with a grateful smile, I reached up. Dormé carefully passed me the purple mug of caf, just like she had for hundreds of mornings. Some routines just carried on. "Thank you." I wrapped all my fingers around the cup luxuriously— it warmed my chilled hands.

That's when I noticed there was a second, thicker blanket draped across my lower half, covering the thin one I'd brought with me from the veranda's couch. It was the purple top linen from my actual bed. That was unexpected. Without it, I might've frozen through the night. I credited its presence to Dormé. She must've placed it on me while I slept.

Unless…

"Where's Ani?" My eyes scanned around the room, failing to find their target.

Dormé studied me for a moment, pausing ever so briefly before she answered, with a directional tip of her head, "He's just outside. I think he's doing some morning reflection ritual."

Careful not to spill my drink, I sat up enough to peek over the rim of the furniture at the figure out on the balcony. His back was to us, and his hands were clasped low behind him. His brown robe floated around him in the breeze, showing us that his feet were spread shoulder-width apart. There was no hint of tension in his frame. The sunrise rays illuminated his dark blond hair, making the short strands appear almost crown-like around his head.

When Dormé answered me, her voice had been quieter than when I'd asked my question, and I knowingly matched her low volume now. "He's meditating."

Dormé shrugged. "Like I said."

I sat up fully, my aching back protesting but also reveling in the chance to straighten out. I stretched it as best I could while sitting and holding a cup of hot fluid in my hand. At least my neck seemed to have decided not to hurt anymore. I ventured the mug to my lips, but the toasty air before I made contact alerted my senses that it was still too hot. I blew habitually on the liquid, then dared to take a sip anyways. I licked my scorched lips and looked expectantly up at Dormé. "Any news?"

Only her eyes betrayed Dormé's otherwise stoic countenance. "Hundreds of messages of condolence came during the night. Honestly, it might be in the thousands by now. Even some of the factions who don't like you sent words of sympathy. And there are numerous requests for interviews from the press."

I sighed. "So, word has gotten out."

At least the families of the victims knew— I'd made sure they'd been contacted before I gave my speech to the Senate yesterday. In my opening remarks to the assembled chamber, I'd publicly announced the seven lives lost. It would've been unforgivable if the families found out either that way or through some back channel.

"Should we tackle the media all at once? Call a press conference?"

"No," my tone was adamant, imperative. "No, not with the vote in the balance. I don't even want to give the appearance of capitalizing on tragedy."

The life of a politician mandated that press conferences be a part of the diet, but instigating them when it wasn't absolutely necessary was the style of other senators, not me. Besides, the threat was still ongoing, and there was no need to make Obi-Wan and Ani's job any more difficult.

Dormé nodded, and I knew she both understood and agreed. "A memorial service is going to be held at the Naboo embassy this morning. There's to be moment of silence, time for remarks, as well as grief counseling for anyone seeking it. The service is going to be semi-private— Nubians only at this time."

I knew the staff at the embassy extremely well, and I was proud and glad that they were putting something together. The shock and brutality of this attack would be felt by all Nubians, and I was grateful that those here on Coruscant had a place to come together.

I took another sip of caf. "I'll be there, too." Dormé's lips twisted, and lines appeared on her forehead. I was about to take another sip, but as I studied my handmaiden the mug stayed paused before my lips, inadvertently heating the tip of my nose. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Well. I just think— yes, it would be good of you to go."

I gave her a wary look. "What are you not telling me?"

A rushed sigh suddenly escaped through Dormé's nose. "Last night the embassy held a candlelight vigil for the fallen at Lucian Park— completely open to the public. The crowd was… large."

I didn't believe my ears. "Our embassy? The embassy for Naboo?"

The look on her face was all the affirmation I needed.

I gaped at her, incredulous. "Why wasn't I told?" I should have been there!

Dormé was immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry. You were in your room eating dinner when I found out, and the Jedi and Captain Typho told me not to."

My lips straightened into a thinly pressed line, and then my voice rang out clear and loud. "Ani!"

An even voice matched the sound of boots stepping across the carpet a few seconds later. "Milady?" The young man stepped into my line of sight on my right, his face unnaturally neutral. He met my eye and held it as he came to a rest near the opposite couch. My current demeanor must've come across as anything but friendly, yet he dared a soft smile. "Good morning."

Even in my frustration, I couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked in the morning light. Sunrise looked good on him. The unwelcome, inappropriate observation only annoyed me more.

"I just learned from Dormé that you ordered her to keep something from me. An event— one I should have attended. But you and Obi-Wan— and Captain Typho, too, it seems— told her to keep the candlelight vigil for the victims of the cruiser attack a secret from me."

His cool composure faltered just a little, nevertheless, Ani calmly answered, "Yes. That's true."

My mouth reset back into that firm line. "Why was I not informed? Why, when they were my servicemen, my bodyguard, my friends, my fellow Nubians, my constituents, my crew— why when it made every logical sense for me to be at a service honoring them, was I not even told?"

As much as I needed to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with other grievers for my own broken heart's sake, I knew that just my presence would have been a show of strength, especially to my fellow countrymen. It would prove Nubians were hurt but not undone. I'd been deprived of a chance to comfort other mourners who, in their solidarity, would have strengthened me in turn.

The teenage Padawan shifted his weight from side to side. "Safety concerns. The risks outweighed the merits."

Dissatisfaction with that answer didn't even begin to cover it. "First of all," I warned. "You do not handle my handmaidens. Is that understood?" It was a rhetorical question, because any other answer was simply unacceptable. Before he could even reply, I shifted my stare to fix it upon Dormé. She was a member of my most trusted inner circle, a unit I thought impenetrable to outsiders. My mask teetered, as now I felt less like I was disciplining a child and more so as if questioning a wayward sister. "Second of all, since when do you keep anything from me?"

Dormé grimaced. Yet, through the guilt, a defense was clearly building in her. My eyes widened. "You agreed with them?" I don't know what emotion I felt more— shock or betrayal. Either way, it wasn't even the point if she'd sided with the others. She was always welcome to her own opinions, but that didn't warrant breaching our code of confidence.

Her hands, which had been clasped petulantly together in front of her, fell to her sides. Her spine even straightened as she stood an inch taller. "I'm sorry, milady, but I did."

"It was open to the public—" Ani started.

"—Which is why I felt safe bringing up the memorial service," Dormé jumped in. "I wouldn't have brought it up to you just now if it wasn't Nubians-only."

Ani's attention snapped to her, a stern look on his face. "What memorial service?"

I quickly answered for Dormé. "There's going to be a smaller gathering at the embassy this morning. I'm going."

I'd used my most commanding of Amidala tones, but Ani was unshaken. He was frowning at me, then the adolescent ordered— with all the air of a seasoned father who was used to being obeyed, "No. You're not."

I blinked back at him. "Excuse me?" First, he thought he could govern my handmaiden, and now he thought he could govern me?

His hands came up to his hips. "My lady—"

"You're assigned to protect me wherever I decide to be— you do not tell me where I can and cannot go."

The lower his chin went as he tried to stare me down, the higher my chin went up. I wasn't intimidated by his towering height. What were long legs compared to my brand of fire?

"We knew you'd push to attend and there was no way you could go. We collectively decided to skip the argument."

"Except it wasn't collective, was it?"

He shrugged. "Maybe not. But it was the right call."

"That's not how this works. I'm not going to be a prisoner."

"What you're not going to be is dead."

"My voice in this may as well be!"

He took a step forward. "My lady, the Jedi are responsible now for keeping you safe. It's a duty we take seriously. I won't apologize for that."

We maintained our heated eye-lock for several seconds, neither of us breaking. Finally, I took a deep breath, trying to reign my irritation in. Power standoffs weren't going to get us anywhere. "Ani… I appreciate what you and Obi-Wan are doing here." They'd faced lethal threats last night in the name of my protection— Kouhuns, leaping out a window, bounty hunters, toxic darts— and I hadn't forgotten. "But I am more than capable of making these decisions for myself."

I was a former queen and current senator of the Republic. I didn't need to be babysat. But truthfully, it wasn't just the blatant lack of respect in treating me like a damsel in a tower that bothered me. There was an underlying hurt that Dormé, Typho, and the Jedi I thought I knew and trusted had conferred with each other to exclude me on something as important as this. They'd put their judgment above my own without giving me even the opportunity of input.

Ani's voice was softer this time, but he still showed no sign of compromise. "I'm sorry. It's too dangerous for you to go. If Master Obi-Wan were here, he would say the same thing."

They just didn't understand. "I already missed the public service. I'm lucky I have a second chance at going at all."

Dormé, who'd fallen still in the spectator stands, seemed to unfreeze at this. She looked puzzled. "But, milady, I thought you didn't want to give the appearance of garnering political points?"

Wounded, I stared at her, aghast. "It's not about that."

Something in my voice made them pause and reevaluate. I watched, wearily, as Dormé came to my side on the yellow couch and took a seat next to me. "Padmé? Why do you feel so strongly about the need to go?"

She searched my eyes, no doubt sure she would find the answer there. In a brief surrender, I allowed the pain to channel into them.

I wasn't just a senator who should've been there as a representative. As important as these roles were to me, I wasn't just a comforter, nor a symbol of resilience that others needed to see for Naboo's sake. I was a human being who'd felt the lives of these people drift away in a circle at my feet. I carried an emotional pain of my own. It manifested itself like a dragged dagger in the ache of my muscles, the hitch of my breath, the heaviness in my lungs. All this I felt viscerally, but my answer died on my lips before I could breathe it into life. After a lifetime of putting other's needs first, these weren't words that felt natural to me to say. I need this. For me.

As I looked back at her mutely, Ani spoke again. "I am sorry we left you out of the discussion. But," his hands dropped from his hips, "it was being held in a park. The sheer fact that it was open to the public meant whoever is trying to kill you would've been able to walk right in. You would've been a target in a crowd of innocent people."

What could I say to that? He was right. I would've attended with the best of intentions, but it could've led to an even bigger catastrophe.

My hopes had dwindled, but I stole a look at him pleadingly, just in case. "But this morning's service? Surely, it will be safer if it's Nubians only?"

Ani looked back at me sadly. I searched his water-blue eyes, seeing only compassion in their depths. I knew he wished he could give me a different answer as he replied, "Any assassin worth his rate will anticipate you going. Credentials can be easily forged. If he wants in, he'll get in."

I nodded, unhappy but resigned. I stared down into my cup of caf, my fingers seeking but failing to find warmth from the mug that already begun to cool.

A loud beeping sound rang in our ears, and I glanced up. Ani pulled a commlink out of his belt, and after a pause he muttered, "It's Obi-Wan. Sorry, I have to take this."

He walked out of the reception room and into the long hallway towards the elevator. For the first time that morning, I noticed the guards still posted in the corridor. They'd rotated sometime during the night— two fresh-faced sentries had replaced the pair standing guard when I came to sleep on the couch. They were looking at me with what I can only describe as sympathetic eyes. I did my best to smile at them.

I wasn't ready to look at Dormé again just yet, and she didn't say anything either, so we listened to the conversation that softly echoed through the space.

Obi-Wan's voice was too low to understand more than a few words, but Ani's cadence traveled down the hallway easily. He'd be leaving. When he returned to us a minute later, his eyes were searching mine with a piercing look that cut through my somber thoughts. Even now, on the heels of a heated discussion covering grief and disappointments, his stare could make my stomach perform somersaults.

"I have to report to the Temple. The Council wants an in-person briefing over last night's attack." He hesitated. "What will you do?"

He was obviously concerned I would take off as soon as he left my floor. Even I had to admit, my sudden turn from fiery protest to abrupt surrender looked suspicious. But that's what grief could do to you— one second, you have the mighty tenacity of an asteroid, and the next, you're overcome by mental and emotional exhaustion. Such a mood swing was even more likely under scattered sleep.

"I…" Dismay temporarily halted my tongue. "I'll have to stay here, for now. At least until the embassy is done with their service." I stared down at my mug again. "I haven't been seen since my visit to the chancellor's office. I hate submitting to optics," I truly did, "but if I'm seen running around the halls of the Senate or brokering meetings while a memorial service is simultaneously happening at my own embassy, especially when I wasn't present at the first…" I didn't need to finish the sentence. We all knew I'd looked heartless.

Ani nodded, seemingly satisfied enough. "Alright." He eyed Dormé. "Look after her." His heart must've been in the right place, but it still came out sounding like a superior giving a command.

What did I just say about handling my handmaiden? My focus rose, and I eyed him steadily as my fog of solemnity dissipated. "I make no promises for this afternoon— I didn't come to Coruscant to shelter in my apartment. I'm the head of the opposition, Ani. The Military Creation Act cannot pass." Too many lives hung in the balance of a potential civil war. It was bigger than me, bigger than even the lives lost on the landing platform. "I'll hide for you for a morning. No longer."

Surprising me, the target of my hardline words smiled. I'd expected a different reaction, something more akin to disapproval, but, if anything, he strangely perked up at my threat. "Understood."

With a short bow, Ani fixed me with one last intense stare, then turned on his heel and headed off in the direction of the elevator.

Dormé and I finally exchanged looks, and I regretted that there was an awkward air between us.

She spoke first. "I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark about the vigil."

I reached across the short space between us on the couch and took her hand in mine. "I understand why you did it," I whispered. Because I did.

Another chill went through me, and I immediately wrapped the blankets up and around my shoulders. "Oof, can we check to make sure that window will be fixed before we freeze in here? I don't think my back can take another night on the couch."

"I'll give you my bed long before that happens." I was about to protest, but Dormé smiled and nodded, cutting me off with, "Don't worry, ma'am, you'll be warm in your own bed tonight."

We talked lightly for a few more minutes before Captain Typho stormed with unexpected urgency into the room. As he looked the two of us over with clinical scrutiny, we stared back, plainly puzzled.

"Captain?" I questioned. "Is something wrong?"

Typho frowned. "Apparently not." He relaxed, though his hands came up to ball on his hips. It seemed to be the chosen pose of the morning. "I was already on my way up when I got a comm call from the Padawan. He practically ordered me to get up here on the double." He looked me over dubiously. "He seems to think you're a flight risk."

It seems Ani wasn't taking any chances, and wasn't above commanding my handmaiden and my chief of security. I glanced down at my attire, a half-smile playing on my lips. "In my nightgown?"

Captain Typho sighed dramatically. "Let's not pretend to not put it past you, milady."

My dark gray dress with the voluminous skirt was never designed to be a mourning gown, but as these things sometimes just do, it was perfect for a grieving senator about to embark on her last stand against the Military Creation Act. The velvet, high-collared black vest was embroidered with intricate patterns down the center, and the puffed sleeves were constricted at my forearms by silver arm bands. Dormé put my hair back into a formal, sleek updo, expertly moving the strands into coned wings on either side of my head.

The chrome and blue headpiece was Cordé's.

I'd been surprised when Dormé presented it to me near the end of my dressing, reducing me to stilled silence. I'd recognized it immediately. My handmaidens didn't normally carry much by way of personal possessions, but on a delegation trip last year to a Mid Rim planet, we'd gone on tour through a vendor's market. The necklace-like circlet had captured Cordé's eye, and I hadn't been able to resist buying it for her. She rarely got excited about jewelry, but I could never forget the mesmerized way she'd gazed at the piece. However, the nature of being a handmaiden meant that individuality in dress code wasn't permissible. She'd never gotten the chance to wear it.

Pensive, I met Dormé's eye. "It matches," she offered quietly.

The fact that the headpiece coincidentally matched the embroidered vest was probably the least reason I needed to wear it.

I took a deep breath. "It's perfect." I turned back in my seat towards the mirror, and watched as Dormé adorned it into my hairstyle.

Although I would wear it today, I made a mental note that I'd very soon have to decide if it was to remain in my possession as a reminder of my friend, or if I would add it to the tiny bundle of Cordé's personal effects. Fairly soon, they'd be sent to her family.

When Dormé finished her work, we both stared at silently at my reflection. She placed her hand on my right shoulder, and I brought my left one up to envelope over it. I didn't care anymore what she had or had not kept from me about the candlelight vigil. Life was too short.

I gave her hand a firm squeeze.

While getting ready, I'd mentally gone over the list of senators and lobbyists I'd need to meet with in order of most to least priority. Before all this was over, I'd also likely give at least one more speech to the Senate against the MCA, and so Dormé aided me with fact-finding and the most up-to-date projections of what a war would economically cost the Republic. Versus the potential loss of life, the financial cost was not my most pressing concern, but I knew the thinning of wallets was the fastest way to capture the attention of listening ears. It was my preferred method to speak from the heart, but with something as important as this, it never hurt to get my thoughts and facts in order ahead of time on a data pad. We did as much work as we could from my home, but by mid-afternoon I was restless and ready to act.

The damsel was ready to descend from the tower with her battle plan.

"Any word from the Jedi?"

Dormé, who was looking over one of the data pads while I returned from using the fresher, shook her head. "No, nothing yet."

Though I found that odd, I didn't exactly consider it an inconvenience. Their lack of presence made my work flow more easily. Particularly, for some reason, I felt like I'd have a distracting time staying in my concentrated rhythm with Ani hanging about.

"Well," I mused, "I said I'd stay put through the morning." I checked the clock on the nearest data pad, though the sun outside told me all I needed to know. "I kept my promise. Let's get to it."

My seasoned comrade, Dormé nodded and headed towards the comm placed on a nearby chair. "Who would you like to reach out to first?"

Time was of the essence. Better to start with the biggest fish and work my way down. "The chancellor's office. See if he can receive us as soon as possible. I'll let Captain Typho and Jar Jar know we'll be on the move soon." I pulled up the secure messaging program on my data pad. If the chancellor was currently preoccupied, I'd move on to the second on my list till he was free.

"Um, milady…" Something in Dormé's tone made me pause and look up at her. She'd walked over to the portable communications pedestal currently by the window. "You have an incoming hologram call… from the chancellor."

Her attention shifted to me, and we stared at each other for an unfiltered moment. Then I nodded, for there was nothing else to do except, "Put him through."

Thanks to Dormé's talents, my attire looked immaculate, but I patted down my pleated skirt all the same as I stood in front of the comm station. Despite my command, Dormé waited until she received one more concise nod from me before she pressed the receiving button. A second later, the holographic blue form of the Chancellor of the Republic appeared.

Sheev Palpatine. For most of our professional relationship, it barely felt professional at all— he was a grandfatherly figure in my life, almost like a constant, doting mentor who just also happened to be the head of the galaxy's government. Even when his position as senator made it taboo at the time, he'd been very vocal in his support of my campaign when I'd run to be queen. After I'd been elected, what began as an easy working rapport blossomed into a paternal relationship, especially during the Trade Federation's invasion. There were a few times when I'd privately reached out to him for guidance during my second term, and he'd never failed to take my call, patiently offering his time and advice. When I first became senator, we even shared laughs over how in the span of just a few short years, he technically went from being my inferior to me being his. We didn't always agree, but I respected his political cunning and years of public service. It had been his own shoes I'd stepped into when I became senator— a position he'd held for twenty years before my famous (or infamous, depending on the point of view) vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum. I knew, or at least I hoped, that he showed no favoritism towards me, but some back home hadn't exactly concealed their delight that out of thousands of systems, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic hailed from our own modest planet. When I joined the Senate, no one dared to publicly charge that Palpatine might show me— the person who'd been instrumental in providing him the opportunity to ascend— personal and professional preference. But, it's politics, and my handmaidens were good at netting backdoor gossip if it might damage me, however much or little I then took it into account.

However, as the years progressed, my once black and white emotions when it came to the chancellor had slowly grown more mixed. As a rank-and-file member of the Loyalist Committee— an alliance of senators requested by none other than Palpatine himself— I willfully preached loyalty to the Republic. In a time of possible civil war, by default that loyalty very publicly extended to its leader. I had faith that he would steer us through crises, much like he had since taking up the post ten years ago. But I hadn't failed to notice that in these last months, Palpatine seemed to have become more of a beloved symbol of the Republic than the Senate had. Even with the most well-intentioned leader, this was a dangerous path. It rattled the democratic foundations I'd built my life's work upon. I couldn't put my finger on it, but while Palpatine had never made any obvious display of courting this adoration, a voice in the back of my head skeptically questioned whether or not all this favor was accidental.

Now, I brutally see the truth. Palpatine chose his words and mannerisms around his targets with surgical precision, adapting the shades of his mask to fit the present company. As shrewd of a politician as I could be, my heart strings were famously never far away, and Palpatine— slipping into a grandfatherly role— played me just as uniquely as he strummed Anakin and countless others. He knew which notes to press to earn our trust… until he didn't require it anymore.

I'd had more than enough hologram communications with Palpatine to judge what the tenor of our conversation would be based on where he'd positioned himself on his end. He usually stood if the call was casual. Though he had never been an overbearing superior— at least not to me— the more authoritative the call, the more likely he was to be addressing me from behind his expansive desk.

Today, he was seated in his large gray chair, peering at me calmly from behind his imposing slab. Business it is then. "Good afternoon, Chancellor," I gave polite smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"My dear, dear Padmé. I was so gravely concerned when I heard of last night's attack. Kouhuns." He winced. "How are you today?"

Authoritative seat, yet using personal names. Interesting mix.

I planted a somewhat forced smile on my face. "Grateful to be alive, thanks to my Jedi protectors." I'll give him that win. He'd advocated for their assignment, after all. "I'm ready to get back to work."

It was as if he didn't hear the second half of my answer. "I don't think I extended my condolences enough yesterday when you came to my office." He paused. "It is a great tragedy— what happened on that landing platform. Barbaric."

My chest tightened and I felt pressure behind my eyes, which I instinctively suppressed. "Yes. I spoke with all the families last night. They are…" I shook my head, remembering the faces of the emotionally shattered. "They're doing as best they can."

"Hmm. The tribute services at the park and the embassy were quite moving."

My spine straightened.

I forgot to keep the professional formality in my tone. "You went?"

Palpatine only gave me a slow smile. "My lady, who do you think encouraged the embassy to hold these services in the first place?" His hands moved in tandem on his armrests, opening palm-up even as the rest of him stayed immobile. "Let us not forget, I belong to the galaxy, but Naboo is my origin world, too." Eyes set in a wrinkled, innocuous face gazed at me with a masterfully set appearance of empathy. I bought it completely. "These attacks affect me personally, and deeply."

I stayed silent for a moment as I collected my thoughts rapidly. On the one hand, this was great news. The mourners deserved a state representative there as a sign of Nubian strength. I'd hoped to fill the role, but who better in my stead than the Chancellor of the Republic? One could easily argue he made a far more impressive symbol than I would have and sent a far more robust statement to whoever was behind this. On the other hand, as much as I tried not to play into public optics, it was likely damaging for me that the chancellor had been present while I hadn't shown up for either remembrance event.

"Yes, of course, Chancellor," I replied. "I would have been there myself, only my security team decided the risks were too great." I left out the fact that I hadn't had a say. No need to divulge that I'd been excluded from the decision by my own inner circle. But then I stuck to the open truth. "I wouldn't have wanted to bring the target on my back with so many others present."

"And they didn't think I would come with my own legion of security befitting the chancellor?"

I didn't really have an answer for that, so I gave the Jedi and Captain Typho the benefit of the doubt and surmised, "They must not have known you were attending."

Palpatine shrugged. "Quite right. We didn't announce it. Part of my own team's protection measures. Your absence was noted, but don't worry. I made it clear you were perfectly fine." My Amidala mask hid a wince at that. I feared the (false) perception that I was 'perfectly fine' yet skipping the services. He waved a hand, moving on from the topic. "I have good news for you, Padmé."

"Oh?"

He gave me a warm smile, as if knowing I would celebrate whatever he was about to say. With measured rhythm, he announced, "Obi-Wan Kenobi has begun an official investigation into who's behind these heinous attempts on your life."

I didn't even try to hide the immense a sigh of relief, though I think it was mostly hidden behind the constriction of my tight vest. "That is good news." A genuine smile spread across my face. "And perfectly timed, too. As I said, I'm ready to get back to work. I was hoping to come to your office this afternoon, actually. But since we're already talking, I was hoping to get your input on the Techno Union manifesto." I reached a hand out to my side with a small wave as I spoke, indicating to Dormé to hand me the data pad. "There's some very interesting text in there. We need to reach out to Foreman Wat Tambor—"

"About that."

I paused. "Chancellor?"

"Whatever endeavors you've no doubt valiantly planned, you'll have to suspend them. Indefinitely."

Dormé came to a halt on my left just outside the viewer lens, and I gestured at her to hold off on passing me the data pad just yet. I didn't take my eyes off the blue figure hovering in my reception room. "I… I don't understand."

"I'm afraid my good news comes with information you are less likely to be pleased about." His chin tilted up. "You are to return to Naboo at once until Kenobi's investigation has been completed. And you aren't going there to work, my dear— you're going into hiding. Henceforth, your whereabouts are under the highest level of confidentiality."

You could have knocked me over with a fern.

My eyes flickered over to Dormé, still standing off to the side. Her wide-eyed face of growing panic reflected how I felt. "Chancellor Palpatine, we're in the final stretch of stopping the Military Creation Act. I can't-I can't possibly retreat now."

"You can, and you will. This is all in the name of keeping you alive, Padmé."

"But these measures, they're getting far too extreme. This is asking so much more of me than adding Jedi to my security detail!"

"Senator Amidala," his tone clearly warned, though the smile hadn't left his face. "I'm not asking."

My thoughts frantically searched for a compromise. This was so, so much worse than I ever imagined would happen after last night. "May I at least do what I can remotely from Naboo? Surely, I would be safe enough there to carry on our efforts." I visualized setting up an outpost in Theed. It was far from ideal, but it was better than nothing. "I would be completely secure in the palace— Queen Jamillia would support me working from there—"

"You and I both know the palace is built more for beautiful show than for security. Nute Gunray didn't even need to walk through a closed door when he took the throne room."

I clasped my hands behind my back to keep their mad clenching from being on full display. My Amidala mask was a mess as I fought to keep my voice even. "Panaka made significant improvements. After the invasion." Not to mention, Nute Gunray arrived with armored assault tanks and an army.

At this point, I'd settle for spending the next week in a cramped N-1 starjet, constantly on the move. Put me in continual orbit, lock me down in one room at the Senate Rotunda, let Captain Typho have his wildest security wishes come true— anything, so long as I was given the ability to get communications out.

"No. No. Padmé," his tone shifted into that grandfatherly routine that usually worked on me. "I am committed to seeing you safe from harm. We— and I speak for our fellow Nubians and those that benefit from your work throughout the Republic— we cannot lose you. Please. Don't ask me to next attend a vigil in your remembrance."

"Chancellor, I appreciate your concern, truly, but for the past year I've been the leader of the opposition—"

It was as if I hadn't spoken. "Anakin just left my office. He'll be on his way to you now. The two of you— just the two— are to disguise yourselves as refugees on the next transport out. Today."

"Anakin?"

A look of baffled innocence spread across Palpatine's face. "I understood you two to be friends?"

This didn't make any sense. If the threat to my life was so severe that I needed to go underground, why was I to be protected by a single apprentice five years my junior? My characteristically elegant elocution failed me, as I exclaimed, "He's a- a teenager!"

I swear, Palpatine stifled an eye roll. "As were you, my lady, when you ruled as queen. One much younger than he when Gunray was parading through our palace doors." He tsked at me. "It was the Jedi Council's idea to entrust you to his protection. I support it. You don't presume to know better than Master Yoda and myself, surely?"

"No, but I—" I tried for another angle. "Who is going to take my place here? I've put in the hours, the months! More so than anyone, I've faced down the pushback, the arguments, and worked out the compromises. I know the minds of the remaining senators still on the fence. I've put a year into building these relationships for a specific purpose— they can't just be handed off to a stranger."

Somewhere, I'd begun to lose the chancellor's patience and attention. "One of my aides is already in contact with the palace. They're going to handle the matter of your replacement in the interval." Something off-camera caught his focus. "Ah. My next appointment has arrived."

Whether it was the stress of the attacks, the grief, the lack of sleep, the hostile start to my morning where I'd already felt handled, or all of it put together, something in me boiled over. In a surge of hot emotion, my voice broke with wild earnest as I let my clenched fists move to my sides. "Seven people died to get me to Coruscant. I came to here to stop this legislation once and for all. If I turn around and run now, their deaths will have been for nothing."

My feral tone caught his attention. There was a heavy pause as we regarded each other through our respective feeds. I felt sure I'd overstepped, but gods help me, I couldn't find the way to care. Finally, Palpatine regarded me with one last look under his hooded eyelids. "You've played your role in this fight. I know all this pains you, but… think of this as a well-deserved vacation. You know, the Lake Country is beautiful this time of year. Stay safe, Senator."

"Chancellor!"

But he was gone.

I stared at the empty air where the blue image had fizzled out. Slowly, dazed, I lifted my eyes to meet Dormé's.

She was gaping back at me, equally stunned. The seconds stretched on.

We barely turned when Captain Typho, for the second time that day, rushed into the room with a manic energy. But where that morning he'd found Dormé and me calmly seated on the sofa— looking back at him with tranquil, if confused, demeanors— this time, the anxiety was written all over us.

He and I stared at each other, and I could tell from the moment I read his face that he disapproved of this idea as vehemently as I did. I watched his eyes lower as he took in my clenched fists. It was only then that I realized my muscles were still as tense as a bowstring, even though the battle was lost. "You've heard." Typho's voice was as harsh as I'd ever heard it. Its lashing attitude wasn't directed at us.

For the first time in days, he and I were on exactly the same page.