I promised the viggies listed in chronological order to another group, but I'll post them here too. The numbers beside them are the order in which they appear. There are seven altogether, so far. So the two you don't recognise haven't been posted.
-Knowing (3)
-Understood (1)/Hating (4)
**-Safely Home (6)**
-Wishes (2)
-Seen (5)
**-No Senators Here (7)**
Seen
The watcher found herself in a room that was both familiar and unfamiliar. She had been here before, she was sure of it, but she couldn't place when or where.
The room was a nursery of sorts. A crib stood to one side and a bed of adult human proportions close to it. The room's two occupants stood by the crib and looked in. Neither noticed the watcher and it became apparent to her that they could not perceive her presence. On the battered dresser stood a small, open, trinket box. Finely carved it fitted with no other furniture in that room. All that the watcher could see of its contents was a cream-coloured cloth, beautifully embroidered. It struck a cord deep within her and she craned her head to see more of it, but was blocked from movement. She would have growled from frustration, but was not allowed that either.
"They're so tiny," the woman said. "Too tiny for what you have planned." She threw a hard look at the man who stood beside her.
"If there were any other way, I'd take it – you know that," her companion sighed.
"I don't like this." Her tone was cold, hard and defiant. Yet there were undertones of hysteria in there too. The watcher did not understand what was happening, but she knew it was not good.
"I do not wish to lose them," it cost the woman dearly not rave and rant, the watcher could see that. She knew also, somehow inexplicably, that this was a topic they had discussed – often ending in intense confrontations – many times.
"If it helps to think of it like this, then believe you will not lose them so much as lend them…"
"A mother does not lend her children!"
"Even if they are possibly the only hope for a galaxy? Padmé, please…I know it doesn't seem like it, but this is for the best."
Neither had yet risen their voices, wary, the watcher knew, of what – or who – was in the crib. Now the woman, Padmé, turned away from the other. Briefly her eyes flickered over the watcher and she frowned in confusion, but she had greater concerns than unusual shadows.
"It is never best when you take children from their mothers." There was an ominous warning there and the watcher felt herself shiver. The man looked as if he'd been punched.
A whimper rose from the crib. Padmé seemed to forget all else and rushed forward, scooping the fretful child up and pulling it against her chest. Oddly, the watcher could see another baby-sized lump in the crib. Unfortunately, where she stood was a bad angle for her to see, and she could not move forward.
"Shush, my little one, you don't want to wake your brother, shhh." She rocked her chid and the man watched them, looking for all the world as if his heart might break. "I love you, little one, I love you more than there are stars in the sky, more than all the grains of sand on Tatooine. Remember that, and make sure brother knows I love him as well. I could not bear it if neither of you ever knew. I love you so much…"
***
Leia woke, but slowly. The dream had been so strange. She could not think why she would ever dream anything like that.
Only she wished she could remember her mother telling her she loved her. She would have given anything to hear those words from that long dead woman who had otherwise given her so much.
It had been so bizarre, as if she'd been allowed to watch something that really happened, and in some ways it felt like something Leia had already seen. As if it were something out of a holodrama she'd once seen, but had faded from her memory.
The woman, Padmé, had reminded Leia a little of her own mother. She was beautiful and sad, and Leia would like to fancy she saw a physical resemblance between herself and that woman. After all, this woman clearly loved her children, despite the fact that the man who stood beside her thought she needed to be separated from them for the sake of the galaxy.
Of course, it couldn't be Leia's mother because the woman had clearly referred to the baby as having a brother, and there was definitely another lump in the crib. The twin to the child held in their mother's arms? Possibly. No, probably.
Wasn't Padmé the name of the Senator? Of course it was. Leia knew that almost as well as she knew her own name. She had certainly studied the woman many times, and had known everything the limited history she had access to could tell her.
Was this the Senator and her family? Her children and perhaps her husband? No. Something seemed wrong in that. That man was not married to her; they were not his children.
But Leia was making up stories again. Stories for Senator Amidala. Like she had done as a child, and then again as an adult, as a comfort to try and believe the galaxy was not as cold as Palpatine presented it.
A niggling detail about a box hovered in her mind, but as with many dreams the clarity had begun to fade. She clung to it momentarily trying to pull it back together. Perhaps it was important… Sitting in a room a toddler reached out chubby baby-fingers, but the object was removed from her grasp. A lid closed and a key snicked in the lock. "Not yet, dearest one." Leia shook off that particular scene. Was it part of her dream? For some reason it seemed wrong…
The princess of Alderaan, sighed and rolled over. All this analysis for a dream that undoubtedly meant nothing. Just some sub-conscious desire for the security of a mother, and a longing to know that fairytales really did happen, and knights married princesses who had been trapped in the tower. Everybody lives happily ever after, except the evil magician.
One of these days she would have to figure out why she had such an obsession over one – fairly minor – Senator. Then she could be rid of that ghost forever. She could do with one less ghost in her life.
Somehow, though, she doubted it would be that easy. The spirits of the dead had followed her for so long that to be without them seemed unimaginable. Leia was doomed to be their voice for the rest of her life. And if for nothing other than a moment or two of peace she would see justice brought for them.
Decisions turning in her mind, she finally dropped off into a dreamless sleep. For the rest of the night no ghosts bothered her.
*****
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. I love you all. :-) I hope you all (and everyone else!) continues to read, enjoy and review. Thank you :-)