A Warm Breeze in the Snow Storm

By Rose-Arwen-Padmé

Across the Stars Pt. 2

There's dirt beneath my fingernails. It's been there for a long time, but I am still unaccustomed to such a presence making home in my once dainty fingers. However, I've had a while to adjust to the abrupt change from a Galactic Senator to lodge caretaker… from a happy, pregnant wife to a dull warden with an empty womb.

I have a day off today, since no one is renting out Varykino. There is no luggage to haul up the stairs, no boats that need polishing, and no dinnerware to be washed. On this rare week, I am free to play with my memories. I can walk barefoot on the beach without worrying about keeping to a strict schedule. I can walk through the bedrooms that a caretaker usually wouldn't when guests occupied them. However, there is one bedroom in particular that I always make a point to avoid. Oh yes, I've had the bed changed since my marital days—everything, from the sheets, the mattresses, and the headboard, was taken out long ago. Still, I cannot spend very long in there, and I only approach it if I absolutely have to. It is the last bedroom out of the five here that I will rent out. I tend to fill up the other bedrooms first. If I absolutely have to rent it, I will only rent the room to children or a single adult. No married couples will have the opportunity to make themselves more at leisure in between those sheets. It's a sentimentality that both drives me insane and keeps me focused.

It's our room.

Sometimes I wonder how the guests are immune to it. How can they not feel the weight of doomed love that sinks into everything of that room? How can they breathe in the air without sensing the wake of such a strong presence that felt passionate feelings, and made his wife feel such passionate feelings, in that room?

I laugh at myself once again, bitterly. I realize that I've been thinking in a stiff, political voice about romantic ideals, and I muse whether or not a day will come when my past will desert my behavior patterns and leave me alone.

A leaf flies into my lap and I idly pick it up with my soiled fingers. It's no surprise for leaves to be falling like soft tears around me. After all, I am sitting underneath one of the large trees here, on one of the patios. The sitting chair is a faded white and the steel is formed into an intricate design. The glass table next to me needs cleaning sometime today or tomorrow… if tomorrow ever comes.

Late this morning, I saw massive ships enter orbit to the far west. They were positioning themselves over the large city of Delva, which is over a hundred standard miles from here. Even though they were so far away, the unmistakable sight of distinct star ships on the Naboo skyline was visible. Only one organization has vessels so big.

They were Imperial Star Ships… Super Star Destroyers.

I unintentionally rip half of the leaf in my grasp.

And they haven't left the orbit yet.

I shouldn't worry, though, right? Obi Wan taught me those presence shield techniques so long ago, but I still recall them with great clarity. No one… important, no one with distinct Force abilities who might be sensitive to my particular presence could sense me. Even if he—if some one did come to Naboo—

—please don't let it be him—

they wouldn't, couldn't know I was here. Ten years of practicing to hide my signature in the Force has assured me, and Obi Wan, of that fact.

I look down to my right hand, expecting to see the large, fragile, slightly ripped leaf resting there. Instead, my hand is clenched tightly, so much so that my knuckles are white. I open my palm hesitantly, afraid of what I might see. The leaf is no longer distinguishable as a leaf. There are merely crumbs, fragments, miniscule details of something that was once whole lying in my hand. It is shattered. The brisk wind quickly scoops up the battered pieces and blows them away, out of my grasp.

I hadn't been aware of it—of my hand clenching, crumbing the structure of the leaf. I had no power over it, no control. It was as if my right hand had been alien to my body, a mechanical extension.

Just like Anakin's.

I shake my head and stand up. I need a change of environment. I need to go back inside and pour myself a glass of Redwen. Most importantly, I need to stop my metaphorical, dramatic daydreaming.

I wasn't supposed to spend today here, and I don't treasure the opportunity. The chance occasion of the Festival of Lights happening at the same time as an empty lodge roster, mixed together with my unbearable longing for family, gave birth to a trip to my dear family's house. I saw my nieces today. I saw my brother-in-law and my sister. I saw my loving parents, and however briefly, they saw me. We hadn't had face-to-face contact in over a year, despite the fact that, while Varykino is 9,000 standard miles away from Theed, I live on the same planet as they do.

I arrived in Theed early this morning, veiled by the cover of the twilight morning darkness and my heavy cloak. I was to spend one happy, blissful day around the only family that I was in reach of. Eleven years ago, since my Jedi husband was not family by blood, I could have said that I attended a complete Naberrie clan reunion. Now, however, there are members of the bloodline missing— two members. Seeing my sister's two children—daughters with long, flowing brown hair—caused me deep pain that reverberated within the caverns of my heart.

Then, barely two hours after I'd arrived, news came of dozens of ships coming out of hyperspace just outside of Naboo's atmosphere. Their arrival was not anticipated—the whole motion was a surprise. At that time, I didn't know their size, their class, their division. I didn't even know whether or not they were ships of the Empire. All the same, just in case, I desperately rushed to leave my family and return to Varykino. While leaving the city in my speeder, I flew by the grand Public Awareness Board of Theed, which, located high in Theed Sqaure, keeps citizens aware of current news bulletins. It was flashing in red letters for the people of Theed to hurry home, and to not delay. My heart had sunk when I also read that a blockade had been set up around our planet.

No, not another blockade… may the Force be with the Queen…

My transport, my own customized, covered speeder, sailed across the thousands of miles of land within three hours. It is completely unprecedented for that model to go that rapidly. Its speed is unmatched on Naboo, even though nobody else knows about it outside of me and my family. It soars as fast as a pod racer, although only one person has ever accelerated my machine to that maximum speed… and he hasn't driven it in ten years. My husband 'fiddled with it', and later taught me those mechanics. I know enough about the engineering to have kept it in good working form over the years. I never thought I'd use it to outrun an Imperial invasion stretching across Naboo.

Less than thirty minutes after arriving at the lodge, I saw the Imperial ships hovering over Delva. The Imperial presence is spreading like a plague over Naboo. So, what do I do as I await their inevitable arrival here?

I sit leisurely on the patio, mythical and remorsefully daydreaming, and then I come inside to pour myself a small glass of my favorite alcoholic drink—Redwen.

I'm merely biding my time. There's no reason to get rallied up and stressed over my own well-being—certainly not when I have the rest of my fellow citizens of my home world to worry about and pray for presently. If the Imperials decide to check out a lavish lodge on the bank of the lake, then so be it, and I will deal with them when they come. I have no one to live for, really. It's a dramatically morbid statement, one that my family wouldn't appreciate at all, to say the least, but I know that it's true.

I never was one to stand down from a fight—verbal or blaster-fire— and there is an unmistakable familiar weight in the air that tells me something is coming. The Force, though I damn it everyday, is whispering warnings and hints into my ear fleetingly.

Inside my chest, a wisp of smoke that used to be a burning flame is growing once again. I don't need a mirror to know that the gleam of old determination is slowly, but surely, returning in my eyes. I am not prideful, at least I try not to be, but I know that whatever troopers stumble across this place will find no average caretaker of the Varykino lodge.

I wasn't elected as Queen, chosen as Senator, and married to a Jedi Knight for nothing.

Besides… being a woman who gave up her children and is still able to breathe and have a heartbeat doesn't exactly detract from my strength of character, I believe.

I must be strong for them.

I'm back to sitting in a chair on my patio. Logic won over my yearning to satisfy my thirst for debate, and so I reluctantly decided to play dumb with the Imperials; that decision is losing ground quickly. These troopers, exceptionally the approaching officer, are acting as if they meant to come to this specific location. My scattered years of militant observation lead me to believe that this was no random site that they chose to investigate.

They are taking great care not to come very close to me, much less to touch me. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought I was living a memory of the large security detail that followed me around outside of the palace after the horror of the blockade so many years before, when I was Queen. Of course, I never dressed my security in uniforms that involved hard white armor contrasting against obvious, black, bulky blaster rifles.

Their caution to not to even bother me, and their great care of the landscape of my home makes me uneasy. There is a sense of protectiveness towards me that I can pick up on, and I don't presume that it's coming directly from the troopers themselves. They are obeying the strict orders of a higher rank. I don't want to think of who in the Imperial Army would be so protective of me and Varykino.

It's as if they know who I am… or who I am to someone else.

I can only hope and pray with all my heart that my family was not involved.

The officer, who I had noticed earlier had started off in a direct line for me from around the bend, had made his way to stand a few feet in front of me.

I don't like his voice. It's not the tone… it's the raspy sound itself, as if he's never quite getting enough air to speak. Perhaps his Lord has temporarily choked him too many times. I listen to the Holo-net. I know that he's capable of it. "It's strange to see such a lady slaving as a lodge caretaker. You don't appear to be the sort of person to be suited for the job."

It's an odd statement to start off a conversation. Hmmmm… be careful, Imperial.

I smile too pleasantly at him. "Good afternoon. I don't think you'll want your superior to hear your thoughts of women that he knows slaving anywhere. It may be a touchy subject." His face tightens in subtle confusion. He's startled by my opening remarks. Good. "Just a hunch." While taking on a somewhat lighter demeanor, I wave my hand in the direction of my cup. "Would you like a glass of Redwen, officer…?" I leave the sentence trailing, making a point to be asking for his rank. I want to know what status of a man I am dealing with.

"Captain. Captain Tistle, and no, I don't."

"Captain Tistle, it's interesting to meet you." I won't say that it's a pleasure to meet him, because it's not. I don't want to be around any Imperial militant dimwits. I have no evidence to show that this man is a dimwit… but that's not the point.

He folds his hands behind his back. "And you are?"

Ah, so Ani hasn't told him yet who he has tracked. This captain's curiosity may be misplaced, in the opinion of his commander.

My somewhat mischievous smile appears again. "Once upon a time, I was an angel."

And a daughter. And a fiancé. And a wife. And, even, a mother.

I've thrown the officer once again. I suppose I'm not what he expected! "Excuse me?'

"Anaka Skyler."

"Apparently, you have not met with a militant, a politician, or a militant politician before, Skyler."

Oh, how I want to laugh!

My smile does not fade. "I am well versed in political pleasantries, Captain. You, obviously, are not."

"Make no mistake, Madam, you are under our control."

A small smile stretches my lips. "Then why am I sitting at my patio table, sipping from my own glass of Redwen?"

The captain makes a sudden move that is suppressed before it even begins. I get the feeling that he'd wanted to strike out and swat the glass from my hand, but something—fear of his commander?—held him back.

I raise a single eye brow in amusement. I am enjoying this game.

All the same, my heart isn't forgetting who brought this officer before me. I continually fight the urge to dart my eyes in different directions in search of another, much more intimidating figure.

"Why don't we skip the chit chat and jump straight to why you are here, Captain?"

A forced smile is my first reply from Tistle. "I see we think alike. Very well, Skyler. My superior, Lord Vader—"

I want to drop my glass, but I don't even stir. This nightmare is real. I'm not going to wake up.

"—has expressed an interest in meeting you. Using his exact words, you are under his 'jurisdiction'."

My thoughts drift to the person these words are being reported from.

Oh, he has no idea… I've never not been under his 'jurisdiction' since he first looked at me with those blue eyes in Watto's shop. Did he ever release me? I think not! He's a wizard who casts spells, like those mythical characters in my childhood story books…

"He demands an audience with you immediately."

Demands? Ani never demanded anything of me. 'Demands' is such an unsympathetic word— brutal and harsh, like the word 'childless'.

"Well, then, there's only one thing I can do at a time like this," I say seriously. The tall man looks at me with a perplexed frown. "Change clothes."

There's only one real gown that I still own. My mother delivered it to me two years ago as a gift on my birthday. I had not wanted to accept it, saying that it was too fine of a thing for me now, and I would have no occasion to ever wear it. However, in her quite stubborn way, she had insisted. She had spent several months working the creation of the gown—'a work of love', she'd called it— and in the end I couldn't refuse her.

Now, I see it as the only thing majestic enough to suit this situation… this twisted reunion. I don't want him to see me in my soiled, meager caretaker clothes.

The elaborate gown is bluish-green. It is a shifting turquoise that reminds me of the surrounding lakes and rivers, as it is not made up of one, two, or even three specific colors. I call it my "water gown". The neckline, including a wide flat collar, is modest and elegant. The sleeves drape an inch past my wrists, while my feet are completely covered. Thousands of sequins line the dress. My official symbol that I used as queen and as senator is visible in the fabric at the waistline—yet another reason why I could never have worn it in public. There is a sapphire jewel at the neckline that will reflect the sunlight. It is a heavy gown, both simple and extravagant, and certainly worthy of any senator's closest.

I used to only wear it around the lodge when no other guests held vacancy, when my reminiscing reached its peaks. Although, I usually collapsed in this garment in a torrent of tears in some hallway or in our old bedroom. Memories are not a comfort; they are merely a brief escape before they cruelly plummet me back into reality, and they are so very addicting.

Reality—that's what today is.

There's a very tiny canister hidden behind a panel of a desk in the next room. Its contents of poison would do the job painlessly and quickly. I could get in there, find it, swallow, and let the toxin do its job long before they would think to come look for me.

Sighing, I gather my skirt and begin walking shakily out the door, past the room holding a liquid escape, and towards the hallway that will lead me to the main balustrade. I've avoided killing myself for ten years. No point in doing it in the next ten minutes just because I'm about to be reunited with my estranged husband. Besides, it's not my style, not the style of the high and mighty Padmé Amidala. Sometimes I feels as if the Force, that mystical energy, has enough personality to laugh at me and mock me. Why does it lift people so high in life, only to have their fall be that much greater and more drastic?

My children… I must be strong for them.

Captain Tistle is there, as expected, when I emerge from the house. Once again, dressed in gowns that the galaxy doesn't see anymore, I am not what he predicted. I am a lady through and through—the type of lady that he is not accustomed to dealing with.

I move my loose hair out of my eyes as a few stray curls blow in the breeze. The wind has strengthened around Varykino.

The officer wastes no time after he overcomes his initial shock at the sight of me.

"Lord Vader requests that you wear a transparent scarf over your eyes, Madam. The scarf should enable you to see through, but the appearance of your eyes must be distorted. He is very adamant about this request."

"Oh, his is, is he?"

The Imperial officer's feet shuffle under my gaze. "Yes, milady."

"Well then, I best comply with his wishes."

I fetch a yard of material from a nearby cabinet indoors. It's not really a scarf, but it is transparent, and it will satisfy the officer. I'll make sure it won't have the chance to satisfy Lord Vader. I'm going to take it off before he sees me. Ridiculous request, Ani…

I do not need assistance as I wrap the material around my head in line with my eyes.

A low, loving voice from long ago caresses me from my memory.

Padmé… I can look into your eyes until the end of time. I don't care if that sounds ridiculous… it's the truth. Your eyes unlock my heart.

Apparently, Lord Vader doesn't want the heart of Anakin Skywalker to be unlocked. Nicely done, Vader. Too bad I have to disappoint you.

"Is this adequate with your lord's demands?" I ask Captain Tistle.

He nods briskly. "That will do."

I enjoy playing with the soldiers. I, Padmé Amidala, haven't had a single enemy to face down in over ten years. For the first twenty-seven years of my life, I battled everything— from Apprentice Legislative counselors to two Chancellors of the Republic, and even a Nexu. Then, suddenly, there was nothing. No one. My face to face interactions had dwindled to the seasonal renters of the elite aristocratic classes of distant planets. This wasn't a usual pattern to a person who'd been accustomed to debating since she was nine years old.

I see him reach for his com link from his utility belt. He activates it and speaks clearly. "My lord?" I begin to pale immediately.

Oh Force… I want to cover my ears! I don't want to—I can't—hear the voice that is about to answer over that damn communicator!

I hold my breath, dreading the inevitable.

I must be strong for them.

"Go ahead, Captain."

My feet want to give way beneath me, but my legs aren't listening. They're in a trance, like the rest of my upper body, listening to the distorted voice of a man I once swore to love, not only until the day I died, but past that, into the sands of time.

"My lord, the woman is in position for your arrival. She is at the balustrade overlooking the south end of the lake. It faces the island in the middle of the lake, sir."

Do you remember, Anakin? It's where you first kissed me. It's where we said our wedding vows. We even made love out here, once upon a time. You brought out a thick, red blanket. It was night. I undressed you slowly… you began kissing my bare shoulders…

"And is the scarf in place?"

Ah, yes, I remember that too… You wanted me to feel the sensation of a silk scarf running up and down my body. You were so intimate, so gentle…

"Yes, my lord. She complied with our request very generously. There was no struggle, either verbally or physically, at all."

I don't think you remember that night anymore.

It is several moments before the unstable voice continues.

"Very well. I will be there momentarily. Clear the men as soon as I'm in sight."

Privacy—he is granting us privacy. I feel gratitude towards him for the first time today.

I don't really pay attention as the officer and the troopers gather to await the arrival of Lord Vader, which will be their cue to depart for the ship. Through the trailing of the wind, I hear the captain's baffled voice as he speaks quickly to his attendant.

"Only one other person I've met has a stare as strong as hers, and his is so tough that it penetrates his mask!"

The smallest of smiles crosses my face—so I haven't lost my touch—, until I hear more of their conversation.

The attendant asked, "Well, what about the Emperor? Have you ever met him? Bet he would be a sour one to look at."

The smile drops of the mere mention of that back-stabbing, wicked, disgust of a man.

I must be strong for them.

"No," Captain Tistle replies on a sigh. "I came close once, but never actually…" Their voices fade away as they walk further from me, and my arena of sound returns to simply the wind, the birds, and the water cascading on the rocks below. They are still in sight, which means Vader is not within sight ye—

The tidal wave of sensations hits me like nothing I have felt in ten years. A connection that I had long wondered if lost is reopened. Obi Wan had trained me to effectively and subconsciously hide my signature from Anakin's acute Force ability, no matter the proximity. However, we'd never been able to accomplish the task of severing the unique link of our unprecedented love. It was a bond that the Jedi did not comprehend, and Obi Wan, in his great teachings, spoke nothing of it. In truth, we didn't even think to try.

Ani may be the Chosen One, and that may be one factor of its existence, but Anakin used to whisper to me at night whenever he was in his most loving moods that it was because we were two halves of the same soul. It had explained why he could feel what I was feeling while he was away during the Clone Wars and vise versa. It was why we finished each others sentences in the strangest of ways. It was why—not the Force. Anakin had said it was a connection that he had never shared with any other Jed, and I believed him, because I felt it too.

I feel it again now.

I sense him, and I feel him sensing me! His essence floods through me, filling me. I can feel his desperation, his arrogance, his unstableness. Do I feel love? Is that love?

Before I can search any further, the link is cut off, and it was not done by me.

I slowly become aware that my eyes are closed and I am breathing heavily. Unsteady, I open my eyes against the scratchy scarf. The troopers and Tistle are gone. I'm alone.

I was never intent on wearing the scarf for Vader. I had decided to take it off the moment the soldiers left, which, obviously, is my current opportunity. Within seconds, the scarf is lying on the ground, discarded.

I want to see my husband… I'm terrified of seeing him… What will he say? How will he react to what I say?… Can he be changed?…

I remind myself that the troopers are gone, which means that I will be face to face with him within moments. Ten years of waiting and dreading and hoping and praying and crying and moaning and avoiding have let to this moment. I have to turn my back. The sight of his figure approaching… I'm not sure how I could handle it.

I face the water, and I realize that it's something I should have done in the first place. The view from Varykino has always brought me peace, and it doesn't fail me today. As I overlook the lake, I feel my breathing return to normal. The island that I used to swim to daily as a little girl winks at me from offshore. The boats below rock in the dock as the current moves them. My heartbeat is regular, and I am calm.

It's perfect timing, because I begin to sense that presence again, this time due to proximity. Then, I hear footsteps—heavy, slow footsteps. The walker is in no hurry to come closer.

The footsteps stop several feet behind me. A black shadow is falling to my left. As it is situated against the banister, it gives the illusion that the shadow of the form is standing next to me, overlooking the view alongside me.

I imagine that I could fall into the water of the lake and fade in, since my dress matches the liquid so exactly. No one would ever see me. No one would sense my drowning body. I would disappear into the depths of my water, just like my Anakin disappeared into the fire ten years before. Then, ten years from today, I will be resurrected too, and my shadow will stand next to my resurrected husband's shadow, and we will be here together until the end of time.

My dramatic, metaphorical musings are going to be the death of me.

I will be strong for them.

"Well," I say, my voice light in contrast to the heavy scene. "I assume you're not here to rent the lodge out for the weekend."

TBC…
Whew! That's 11 pages in Microsoft Word, and since the longest chapter so far has only been six pages, that makes this the single longest post of the story so far.

I really hope you all enjoyed this one. Besides investing the entire afternoon into it, I think I've listened to "Across the Stars", "Anakin's Dream", and "Luke and Leia" about 50 times each just today to keep me focused completely in the Skywalker mood for hours. I hope it was worth it!

My main thing is that I wanted to get the characterization of Padmé down right. She is my favorite character in the saga, and I just have to due her justice every time I write about her.

I very eagerly anticipate reading ya'lls opinions!

I'm going to email my replies to the reviews of the last chapter, and to the next chapter. I think this will be the standard from here till the end. Thank you all for such kind remarks!

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