(A/N: Hey guys, this story is still active. Sorry took so long btw posting
chapters! Thanks for your reviews and keep'em coming....hehehe...chapter 6 will
be up soon)
Chapter 5-A Mother's Musings
"Certainly, we understand your planet's reasoning, King Ar'res. But sire, you do not understand our reasons for giving priority to the war with the Empire. Yes. Definitely, so I'll meet your representative then. Havhili", she signed off the holocomm with the Illian greeting. Illia was a highly backward, conservative planet with a royal family. And had an abundance of raw minerals, which was why the Republic needed them so much. 2 years of war had considerably depleted the Republic's resources and they could not afford to lose their lucrative trade contract with Illia. So Padme was trying her best to dissuade them from joining the Emperor.
'Not when there was a war going on. Not when they needed supplies so badly. And not when my family is out there, fighting for their lives, all our lives', the fiery politician thought fiercely. Weariness overcame her then, and she slumped in her seat, head bowed. The years had been kind to her, though pain, worry and a lifetime as a politician had wrought many lines on her angelic face. Grey streaked the brunette's hair at the temples and her features were softer, more careworn. Her eloquent brown eyes, so often burning with passion, now held worry.
The tiny woman twisted her neck, trying to work out a crick that had developed. As her head swiveled, she caught sight of one of the many holographs lining the walls of her office. A younger her smiled joyously, wearing an expression so different from her present one, it could almost have been another person. In many ways, it was. She stared at the younger woman, trying not to focus on the arms around her. Arms which belonged to a certain tall, blond-haired, blue eyed young man, the grin on his handsome face matching the young woman's.
Clinging to his back was an impish eight-year old, brown hair curled tightly in buns. The girl had inherited her mother's features and diplomatic talent, so much so that everyone marveled at their resemblance. But her eldest child was her own woman now; at 18 years old, she was the youngest Senator, filling in her mother's old position.
Of course, many people had talked, concerned that although Leia had been born on Naboo, she had been raised primarily on Coruscant and everywhere else in the galaxy. But Naboo's queen and their people had agreed, and she had fought back, saying that she had spent her adolescence on the planet.
Her mother smiled at the memory. Leia may have resembled her outwardly, but she had inherited many of her characteristics from her father as well. The young woman's volatile quick-temper, decisive nature and stubbornness, all reminded Ami of a younger Anakin. 'Then again, she could have inherited her mule-headedness from you', the older woman thought with a smile.
Her eyes shifted to the young tow-headed boy at her younger self's left. If his twin was a copy of her mother, then the boy was a replica of his father, complete with huge cornflower-blue eyes and fair blond hair.
He was Luke, her son. He was the gentler of the twins, more prone to listen and mediate quarrels than starting them, as had been his sister's wont. In many ways, he was a sleeping lion; once awakened, his anger and obstinacy had no bounds. Thankfully, Ami could count on one hand the times the boy had lost control of his temper. Those two traits weren't the only ones he had inherited from his parents. A firm, kind-hearted nature, patience and a love for all things organic and mechanic, coupled with a strong dose of justice, his father's skills with an aircraft and a burgeoning Force talent, made her a proud mother, and him a good Jedi.
The Jedi. Ami had almost lost him to them when he was so young. Anakin had pleaded with Yoda to let them raise the boy until he was 6, and the green alien had relented. The separation had been difficult, but his strong force-bond with his twin sister had drawn him back to the family. The Fates had been kind too, in awarding him with a caring Jedi-Master, Firenze Jaden, whose first doing as the boy's Master had been to arrive on their door-step with the 13-year old. Luke had always returned home after missions and slowly had become protector to the siblings he had once barely known.
Lost and found. And lost again. The rift that had developed in her marriage had never quite healed. Until the day she had found out that Ani had driven the boy to the Academy, the two had never fought. Ever. Call it fortune, but in 17 years, they had never truly had a full-blown fight. Ami suspected that it was because they had rarely had time to, what with their jobs and the children.
And so, they had lost their eldest son to war. It was torture sometimes, not knowing if Luke still lived, if he would ever come back to them and some nights, when she was alone, tears still found her. But it was no use crying over the past. She turned her attention to the 6-year old boy on her other side.
Tristan had piercing blue eyes and hazel brown hair. Stubborn chin and strong, mulish features graced his young face. The boy had his older brother's temper and none of his restraint. Reckless, mischievous and always ready to let his fists do the talking, Tris had been a handful. But his cocky air and clowning around had a reason behind them. Tris had always felt he was overshadowed by his older brother; Ami had heard him gripe more than once about Luke being better than him in everything. And indeed, despite their wildly differing natures, her two boys shared a lot in common.
What Tris did not realize was that thanks to his brother's "success" as a Jedi trainee, the Jedi Council had allowed the rest of their children to be raised at home and taught the basic skills of the Force by their father, before going to the Jedi Academy at 12, to be apprenticed. For this reason, Anakin had only recently taken an apprentice, being too busy before training his own children.
Now Tristan had gone to war too, in his brother's footsteps and all Ami could do was wave him could buy. She feared that Vaiya would be next. The sixteen-year old was a medic-in-training and apprentice to Jedi Healer Tallia. Vaiya had much to learn, but even her Master acknowledged that the girl was the strongest Healer, in terms of raw Force talent. Ami had not been surprised by the news; Vaiya was the daughter of the Chosen One, as the Jedi called Ani. Vaiya was levelheaded and calm, the only one of the Skywalker children who did not subscribe to the act first, think later rule. Her only vice was her dry, cynical sense of humor, unfounded in one so young and sometimes her mother worried about the jaded girl.
And so, Ami was left on Coruscant with Kyra, her precocious 14-year old daughter. Kyra was as reckless as Tristan and just as kind-hearted and understanding as Luke. Sometimes, she didn't know what to do with the girl. But Kyra was good at looking after her younger siblings. Amidala did not know what the girl would do if she learned the truth, or for that matter, what the younger children would do. She closed her eyes as she thought about the day she had become a mother, all over again.
Flashback 10 years ago
Bombings were occurring all over Coruscant but the Jedi Temple had been most heavily hit. Padme stood speechless at the destruction. The Jedi had not been badly hit, most of them were off on mission and their quarters and the record archives were at the other end. This building had been the crèche. It had housed the Jedi children and training facilities. Palpatine had been aiming for the future of the Jedi, their children.
Padme numbly walked over to her husband, amidst the smoldering flames. Anakin's head was bowed with grief, pain etched across his features, eyes hollow. "He did this Padme, he did this. I...I", he faltered as tears sparkled in his eyes. Padme just numbly gathered her husband in her arms, soothing him even though she was equally appalled. Then she heard a noise, crying. Babies crying! She sprang away from her husband, concentrating on figuring out the source. The Jedi had told her that only 9 toddlers had survived, shielded by the younger padawans who had not been off at lessons. Maybe, they had missed a child.
Anakin looked at her, alarmed by her sudden reaction. "I think there's a baby in there, somewhere", she told him brusquely.
His eyes widened, even as he stretched out with his Force sense, and located 3 faint life forms. He charged off, Padme following him at a gallop. Finally, he reached them, a few months-old baby and twin one-year olds, remarkably unharmed.
After the explosion, most of the crèche teachers and caregivers were wounded, or dead. Padme watched as two full-grown Jedi tried to care for 3 little babies, and failed, miserably. The pair had no idea how to deal with small children, much less Force-strong twins and a tiny baby. Suddenly, an idea formed in her head. She went to seek out Master Yoda.
Chapter 5-A Mother's Musings
"Certainly, we understand your planet's reasoning, King Ar'res. But sire, you do not understand our reasons for giving priority to the war with the Empire. Yes. Definitely, so I'll meet your representative then. Havhili", she signed off the holocomm with the Illian greeting. Illia was a highly backward, conservative planet with a royal family. And had an abundance of raw minerals, which was why the Republic needed them so much. 2 years of war had considerably depleted the Republic's resources and they could not afford to lose their lucrative trade contract with Illia. So Padme was trying her best to dissuade them from joining the Emperor.
'Not when there was a war going on. Not when they needed supplies so badly. And not when my family is out there, fighting for their lives, all our lives', the fiery politician thought fiercely. Weariness overcame her then, and she slumped in her seat, head bowed. The years had been kind to her, though pain, worry and a lifetime as a politician had wrought many lines on her angelic face. Grey streaked the brunette's hair at the temples and her features were softer, more careworn. Her eloquent brown eyes, so often burning with passion, now held worry.
The tiny woman twisted her neck, trying to work out a crick that had developed. As her head swiveled, she caught sight of one of the many holographs lining the walls of her office. A younger her smiled joyously, wearing an expression so different from her present one, it could almost have been another person. In many ways, it was. She stared at the younger woman, trying not to focus on the arms around her. Arms which belonged to a certain tall, blond-haired, blue eyed young man, the grin on his handsome face matching the young woman's.
Clinging to his back was an impish eight-year old, brown hair curled tightly in buns. The girl had inherited her mother's features and diplomatic talent, so much so that everyone marveled at their resemblance. But her eldest child was her own woman now; at 18 years old, she was the youngest Senator, filling in her mother's old position.
Of course, many people had talked, concerned that although Leia had been born on Naboo, she had been raised primarily on Coruscant and everywhere else in the galaxy. But Naboo's queen and their people had agreed, and she had fought back, saying that she had spent her adolescence on the planet.
Her mother smiled at the memory. Leia may have resembled her outwardly, but she had inherited many of her characteristics from her father as well. The young woman's volatile quick-temper, decisive nature and stubbornness, all reminded Ami of a younger Anakin. 'Then again, she could have inherited her mule-headedness from you', the older woman thought with a smile.
Her eyes shifted to the young tow-headed boy at her younger self's left. If his twin was a copy of her mother, then the boy was a replica of his father, complete with huge cornflower-blue eyes and fair blond hair.
He was Luke, her son. He was the gentler of the twins, more prone to listen and mediate quarrels than starting them, as had been his sister's wont. In many ways, he was a sleeping lion; once awakened, his anger and obstinacy had no bounds. Thankfully, Ami could count on one hand the times the boy had lost control of his temper. Those two traits weren't the only ones he had inherited from his parents. A firm, kind-hearted nature, patience and a love for all things organic and mechanic, coupled with a strong dose of justice, his father's skills with an aircraft and a burgeoning Force talent, made her a proud mother, and him a good Jedi.
The Jedi. Ami had almost lost him to them when he was so young. Anakin had pleaded with Yoda to let them raise the boy until he was 6, and the green alien had relented. The separation had been difficult, but his strong force-bond with his twin sister had drawn him back to the family. The Fates had been kind too, in awarding him with a caring Jedi-Master, Firenze Jaden, whose first doing as the boy's Master had been to arrive on their door-step with the 13-year old. Luke had always returned home after missions and slowly had become protector to the siblings he had once barely known.
Lost and found. And lost again. The rift that had developed in her marriage had never quite healed. Until the day she had found out that Ani had driven the boy to the Academy, the two had never fought. Ever. Call it fortune, but in 17 years, they had never truly had a full-blown fight. Ami suspected that it was because they had rarely had time to, what with their jobs and the children.
And so, they had lost their eldest son to war. It was torture sometimes, not knowing if Luke still lived, if he would ever come back to them and some nights, when she was alone, tears still found her. But it was no use crying over the past. She turned her attention to the 6-year old boy on her other side.
Tristan had piercing blue eyes and hazel brown hair. Stubborn chin and strong, mulish features graced his young face. The boy had his older brother's temper and none of his restraint. Reckless, mischievous and always ready to let his fists do the talking, Tris had been a handful. But his cocky air and clowning around had a reason behind them. Tris had always felt he was overshadowed by his older brother; Ami had heard him gripe more than once about Luke being better than him in everything. And indeed, despite their wildly differing natures, her two boys shared a lot in common.
What Tris did not realize was that thanks to his brother's "success" as a Jedi trainee, the Jedi Council had allowed the rest of their children to be raised at home and taught the basic skills of the Force by their father, before going to the Jedi Academy at 12, to be apprenticed. For this reason, Anakin had only recently taken an apprentice, being too busy before training his own children.
Now Tristan had gone to war too, in his brother's footsteps and all Ami could do was wave him could buy. She feared that Vaiya would be next. The sixteen-year old was a medic-in-training and apprentice to Jedi Healer Tallia. Vaiya had much to learn, but even her Master acknowledged that the girl was the strongest Healer, in terms of raw Force talent. Ami had not been surprised by the news; Vaiya was the daughter of the Chosen One, as the Jedi called Ani. Vaiya was levelheaded and calm, the only one of the Skywalker children who did not subscribe to the act first, think later rule. Her only vice was her dry, cynical sense of humor, unfounded in one so young and sometimes her mother worried about the jaded girl.
And so, Ami was left on Coruscant with Kyra, her precocious 14-year old daughter. Kyra was as reckless as Tristan and just as kind-hearted and understanding as Luke. Sometimes, she didn't know what to do with the girl. But Kyra was good at looking after her younger siblings. Amidala did not know what the girl would do if she learned the truth, or for that matter, what the younger children would do. She closed her eyes as she thought about the day she had become a mother, all over again.
Flashback 10 years ago
Bombings were occurring all over Coruscant but the Jedi Temple had been most heavily hit. Padme stood speechless at the destruction. The Jedi had not been badly hit, most of them were off on mission and their quarters and the record archives were at the other end. This building had been the crèche. It had housed the Jedi children and training facilities. Palpatine had been aiming for the future of the Jedi, their children.
Padme numbly walked over to her husband, amidst the smoldering flames. Anakin's head was bowed with grief, pain etched across his features, eyes hollow. "He did this Padme, he did this. I...I", he faltered as tears sparkled in his eyes. Padme just numbly gathered her husband in her arms, soothing him even though she was equally appalled. Then she heard a noise, crying. Babies crying! She sprang away from her husband, concentrating on figuring out the source. The Jedi had told her that only 9 toddlers had survived, shielded by the younger padawans who had not been off at lessons. Maybe, they had missed a child.
Anakin looked at her, alarmed by her sudden reaction. "I think there's a baby in there, somewhere", she told him brusquely.
His eyes widened, even as he stretched out with his Force sense, and located 3 faint life forms. He charged off, Padme following him at a gallop. Finally, he reached them, a few months-old baby and twin one-year olds, remarkably unharmed.
After the explosion, most of the crèche teachers and caregivers were wounded, or dead. Padme watched as two full-grown Jedi tried to care for 3 little babies, and failed, miserably. The pair had no idea how to deal with small children, much less Force-strong twins and a tiny baby. Suddenly, an idea formed in her head. She went to seek out Master Yoda.