AN: This chapter gets a bit violent. One scene is a bit graphic. I put ! around that scene. If you wish to skip over it, you may do so until you see the ! again.

- - - Chapter Three: The Lady - - -

The sun was setting . . . The darkness was coming . . .

Padmé peered through the carriage window. All she could see was darkness and her own reflection. The skies were heavily overcast and not even the moon was out. The carriage jostled heavily as it went over a bump.

"We stayed too late," Padmé's mother, Marchioness Jobal Naberrie, said. "Poor Mr. Tycho can't see a thing. He's hitting all the bumps and holes."

"Sorry, my dear," said the Marquess Ruwee Naberrie. "Mr. Janren and I had to make sure everything was ironed out with this engagement before we returned to London. Plus I'm sure Sola enjoyed spending more time with her newly betrothed."

Padmé looked at her older sister. Sola sat on the bench next to her mother across from Padmé and their father. Her back was straight and she was staring intently at her lap.

"I still think it's too young," Jobal said. "We should be waiting at least another year if not more."

"She's so old fashioned," Ruwee said to his daughters.

"Seventeen is too young," Jobal said.

"Eighteen," Padmé said. "Sola's birthday is coming up soon."

"Which admittedly is young, but still respectable," Jobal said.

"Too young," Ruwee repeated softly to herself.

"But it's what Sola wants!" Padmé defended her still quiet sister. "She and Darred are in love!" Again, the entire family's attention turned to Sola whose cheeks were turning a bright red. Padmé giggled. "I'm certain Sola enjoyed the extended stay with the Janren's. It meant more time with Darred. I do not doubt that Sola is ready to be engaged. It means she can spend unchaperoned time with her love."

Sola's cheeks burned bright red.

"Padmé Naberrie!" their mother chided.

Padmé giggled.

"You're too young to understand," Sola said finally breaking her silence.

"I'm twelve," Padmé said. "I understand plenty. Like how you two held hands under the table cloth when- "

"Padmé!" Sola shouted. Her face was now red as a cherry.

Padmé laughed.

It was warm and bright . . . She could just make out the future . . . Sola would marry Darred. He would marry into the Naberrie family and become the future Marquess. He and Sola would be so happy together . . . They would have two daughters . . .

The carriage came to a stop. The family became still and quiet as they listened. They could hear the horses neighing and shouts of the coachmen trying to coax them on.

"Perhaps you should take a step out, dear?" Jobal asked.

Padmé looked out the window. It was so dark . . . So cold . . . the Darkness was here . . . She looked back at her family . . . She didn't know . . . This would be the last time she would see them . . . As they were . . . Happy . . . Healthy . . . A warm future still within their grasp . . .

The door to the carriage was ripped open. Strong hands grabbed Padmé and pulled her out. She fell into the cold mud. She heard her mother and sister screaming and her father shouting.

Cold, boney hands grabbed her . . . Dragged her through the mud . . . She screamed until there was no voice left in her as she watched . . . As she watched her family . . . One by one . . .

Padmé stared at her family. They laid motionless in the mud. Her father's neck had been slashed open. There were bite marks along his arms. The blood coming out of his neck was smeared from where the vampires had licked up their meal. Jobal was face down in the mud. It was for the best. Padmé didn't have to look into the open eyes. Those eyes that didn't see anymore, but still held the terror of her mother's last living moments as her a vampire grabbed a fistful of hair, ripped her head back, and sunk their teeth into her mother's neck.

And Sola . . . Oh, sweet Sola. She was so excited to get married . . . She had fought. She had fought so hard for that future she was so close to achieving. Her clothes were ripped and torn. Claws marks slashed across her . . . Padmé's vision blurred as tears poured down her cheeks. Her body shook violently in silent sobs. Two . . . creatures were gripping her arms tightly to keep her upright as one of the vampires walked towards her. He wore a black robe with a black hood. His lips were stained red with Sola's blood.

He stopped right in front of Padmé. Sickly gold eyes ringed in red glared down at her. She could see the white teeth through her blurry tear-stained vision. Cold fingers dug into her cheeks as the vampire grabbed her face.

"Tell me, child," the vampire hissed. "Do you want to die?" She tried to pull away, but the grip only tightened. She could feel the long nails digging into her skin to the point where blood started to slowly drip down her cheeks. "Or do you want to live?"

"I . . ." Padmé Naberrie looked at her dead family. Their screams still echoed in her ears. When she tried to blink away her tears, she saw their deaths over and over again. "I . . . want . . . I want to live- live," she stuttered.

What else was there to say?

"Good, good," the vampire said as it released its hold on her face. "I have use of you."

She looked up at that crooked face. She opened her mouth, to say what, she didn't even know, but words never came out. Only a scream she didn't know she still had in her as the vampire opened his mouth wide, his fangs long, and he lunged at her throat.

"Finished, my lady."

Padmé looked over herself in the mirror. Her face had been painted white with the two small red circles on her cheeks. Her lips were matching red. The top was painted in full while there was only a slash of red on the lower lip. The rest of her head was wrapped in black fabric. Behind her head, a crest of black feathers fanned out. Going across her forehead was a dainty gold chain with red rubies set every couple of millimeters. In the center was a downward pointed triangle amulet with three rubies. The chain tucked under the black headscarf but was connected to two red, hard, tear-shaped ornaments on the side of her head. Each was encased in a net of gold.

She wore an underdress of a dark beige that was completely covered in black lace. On top of that was a large outer dress made of black ruffles. Dull gold symbols had been sewn on to the lower skirt.

"It looks excellent, Rabé," Padmé said with the barest nod of her head.

Her handmaiden smiled. Padmé brought up her hand and Rabé took to it to help her out of her seat. Padmé left her room with two of her handmaidens trailing behind her. They were both dressed in smooth and straight black and grey dresses with long sleeves and a hood that was pulled low over their faces.

Padmé heard the party before she entered the great hall from a side door. She wasn't in the mood for a grand entrance. A discreet entrance allowed her to study the hall from the shadows for a moment. Vampires of all types filled the large room. Many held wine glasses filled with blood though a few were actually drinking wine or a mixture of both. The atmosphere was jovial as they talked and joked with one another. Thus when the screams were heard, it was rather jarring, but no one reacted. They continued on as if nothing was amiss.

Between the crowd, she could just make out the far wall. Humans, bound by their wrists, hung from the wall. Many of them bore cuts and bite marks. Padmé looked towards the end of the hall to her right. The floor raised up a few steps where a single black throne stood, and on it sat Darth Sidious as he was always one to remind people of his might and importance. He was the oldest and strongest here. All others bowed to him.

Padmé slowly left the shadows. She kept a slow and steady pace with her head held high. Her face a neutral mask that gave off no emotion. She did not need to speak, people sensed her and gracefully moved out of the way. They do so with a bob of their head, a bow of the waist, or a small curtsey. She was instantly recognizable, and all in attendance granted her the respect she was due. She took her place near the steps of the throne on the right side.

Luckily, she did not have to wait long before Sidious tapped his cane three times and the hall quieted down. The vampires moved to the edges of the room to create a great circle. Those of higher ranking positioned themselves closer to Sidious. Darth Tyrannus stood between Padmé and Sidious. Grievous stood on the left, and Ventress stood behind him. Near Padmé stood Darth Maul and his brother Savage. She noted a few others: Pre Vizla of the Death Watch coven, Pong Krell a former Jedi knight turned vampire, and Cad Bane.

Sidious stood up. He wore his normal vampire attire, a lux black robe with the hood pulled low. He raised his arms. "Welcome, my brethren," he said. His voice carried clear across the room. "Some of you have come very far to be here, and your obedience shall be rewarded. Our patience has paid off. We entering the eve of the end of the Jedi Order!"

A loud cheer went up.

Palpatine sat back down on his throne and continued his briefing. After his speech, he listened to updates and gave new orders to make sure everything was going exactly to his plans. Padmé doubted any of this was new to Sidious. He had either already knew of it or had foreseen it. It wasn't until the end of the briefing that a hush fell over the crowd. A man, a vampire, was being dragged forward by two of the guards. The man had a brown bag slung over his shoulder. He was unkempt and wore a tattered black suit. His skin was littered with fresh cuts that appeared to be healing.

Sidious leaned forward in his throne. "Rush Clovis," he said in his raspy voice.

That single name sent a cold rock into Padmé's stomach. She placed a hand there as if to settle it. She examined the man on the floor again. Why hadn't she noticed it before? It was Rush. But why . . . How . . . He was supposed to be dead. Anakin was sent to Spain to kill him. Had Anakin failed? And if so . . .

No!

There was a pressure building behind her eyes. She had to will herself to calm down. She had to keep up her stoic mask. Anakin was ok, she told herself. He had to be. He promised to come back to her. Her hand tightened around her stomach. No way Rush Clovis could have killed him.

"My lord," Rush said finally collecting myself.

"Why have you come before me and this assembly in such a state?" Sidious asked.

"I come straight from Barcelona. I had a run-in with a Jedi Knight."

The crowd jeered.

"Here to claim a bounty?" Sidious said as he leaned back into his throne.

Rush looked down. "I'm afraid, my lord, I was unable to finish the job."

Relief instantly flooded through Padmé. The crowd booed him. They shouted insults at him for not finishing the job.

"Silence!" Sidious hissed. The crowd calmed down. "So you dare show up here after such an unacceptable failure?"

"It was not my fault!" Rush shouted. "I was moments away from landing the killing blow, but more Jedi showed up. I had to retreat!"

"Coward!" someone shouted.

"Weakling," came another.

Rush looked over his shoulder and growled at them. "I have done more than you!" he shouted. He looked back at Sidious. "It was Anakin Skywalker I fought!"

The room settled down, but there was a soft murmur of whispers. Every vampire knew of Anakin Skywalker. He was one of the most feared knights in the Order. He had the highest kill rate. He was a hunter many feared.

"You fought Anakin Skywalker? And almost got a killing blow on him?" Ventress asked. Ventress had faced off against Anakin more than any other vampire here. She had been the one to scar his face.

Rush swung his bag around and dug in it. He brought out a package wrapped in dirty fabric. He undid the fabric and held the item up. It was an arm. It was Anakin's arm.

Everything in Padmé froze. There was a sharp stabbing pain in her heart that quickly spread to her whole body.

No, she pleaded to herself. It could not be. Anakin had to be safe. He had to be!

When Rush had pulled out the arm, whispers had started to spread around the room while people speculated if that was really Skywalker's arm. The whispers grew louder until the room was loud. Palpatine started to clap. It was slow but steady, and the room quieted at this display.

"I was hasty to judge you, Viscount," Sidious said. "You may not have killed off a hunter, but gravely injuring Skywalker is a considerable feat. You shall hold a place of honor tonight!"

The crowd applauded and Rush smiled. He walked up the steps and presented the arm to Sidious. Sidious waved a servant forward, who took the arm away. The party resumed, but Padmé stood still. Her mind whirled.

Anakin. Anakin. He had to be safe. He was going to return to her. He promised. He always kept his promises.

She took a step forward. Then another. And another. She made her way into the middle of the room until she found Rush. He was surrounded by a large group of vampires who were all eager to hear his tale. They fell quiet as they noticed Padmé. Rush's eyes lit up as he saw her as the rest of the group bowed in respect. Rush did not.

"Lady Amidala," he said finally bowing. "You honor me with your presence."

She stepped forward so she stood directly in front of him. They were almost touching. Clearly, he was shocked by this but didn't move away.

"Do you think Skywalker will live?" Padmé asked. Her voice was soft and even.

"I suppose if those other scum knights managed to get him to a doctor in time," Rush said dismissively. "But you know how they are. They are like rats. So hard to kill."

A few vampires in the circle nodded their heads knowingly. Padmé sighed.

"Do not worry, my lady," Rush said. "I will finish the job."

"No," she growled. She could feel the nails on her fingers growing long and sharp.

!

Rush was taken aback. He blinked and opened his mouth, but that was when Padmé struck. She stabbed her hand into his abdomen. She tore into his stomach and then started to angle her hand upward. Blood was pouring from the wound, down her arm, and dripping onto the floor. Rush gasped; his face turned white as he stared open-mouthed at her hand in his stomach. His hands grabbed at her bloody arm. But she didn't stop.

She ripped through the thin layer of tissue that divided the stomach from the chest cavity. His lungs collapsed as his diaphragm was ripped open. There was a small wheeze as the last breath was squeezed out of him. She paused and glared at him. Her red-rimmed yellow eyes were glowing. He could no longer breath, but his heart was still beating. She could feel it's frantic beat. She opened her hand and slowly grabbed the vital organ. Then she squeezed tight and ripped her hand with her fingers still wrapped around the heart.

!

He fell to the ground and a shocked silence fell across the group. It fell across the entire room as everyone stared at her. She watched as his body slowly disintegrated into ashes including the heart in her hand. She looked up and swept her gaze across the room.

"Anakin Skywalker is mine," she declared. "If any of you touch him, you have to deal with me."

She turned sharply on her heels and headed for the exit. She could feel everyone's eyes on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Maul grinning and elbowing his brother and Grievous studying her carefully. She hadn't persuaded them. If they ran across Anakin, they would try to kill him. But the message hadn't been for them. It had been for everyone else. All the weaklings who wouldn't dare tempt her anger. Though it looked like Maul and Grievous were curious to do just that.

She ignored them and left the hall. She made her way back to her room. Her handmaidens were waiting for her and jumped into action. They helped her out of her dress and cleaned off the blood and makeup. They helped her dress in a simple dark green dress. Then she waved them all away. They gave her curious and concerned looks, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

They were on Anakin.

She stood in front of the fireplace and wrapped her arms around herself. She couldn't hold back anymore. Tears silently slid down her cheeks.

"Anakin," she whispered.

He had to be ok. He had to have survived the attack from Rush. That was part of the plan! Anakin was to live! Rush was to die! But she couldn't stop her worry she felt for him, because she had meant everything she had said to him. She loved him. She truly loved him. She wasn't supposed to. She didn't even want to at first. It was just a mission from Sidious. Just seduce the foolish Jedi Knight into leaving the Order.

But he had been so kind and sweet to her. She told herself she was just being naive. Of course, she liked the way he treated her. When was the last time anyone had treated her with such warmth and kindness? In the carriage that night, she thought sadly. But the feeling never faded away no matter what she told herself. In fact, her feelings for him only grew stronger.

She didn't think it was love until Sabé pointed it out.

"You smile and laugh around him," the handmaiden had said. "Truly laugh around him."

Sabé was right. She did laugh around him. She was at ease around him. Enjoyed being around him. Looked forward to their encounters and thought of him constantly. She loved him. She truly deeply loved him.

But . . . she was bound to serve Sidious. There was no escaping him. She had to do his bidding. It would all work in the end, she told herself. Sidious would get what he wanted. Anakin would become a vampire. Hopefully, he would forgive the role Padmé played in that. Then they could be together. They could return to what they once had.

But he had to be alive for any of that to happen.

"You're improving," Cin Drallig said. Anakin grunted. "We'll get your left arm as good as your right."

Cin was the battle master of the Temple. He in charge of physical combat training, especially in sword combat. He was helping Anakin relearn to fight using his left hand. Anakin glanced down at his right arm. It ended in a stump right below his elbow. It was currently wrapped in bandages.

"You're stamina is also improving," Cin said. "But that's it for today. We can practice more tomorrow."

Anakin bowed and thanked the master. He returned the wooden practice sword back to its spot on a rack on the wall. He held back the disgust he felt at being forced to use such a weapon. He was a fully-fledged Jedi Knight. He had long since mastered swordplay. He shouldn't be back to using wooden practice swords. But that was all with his right arm, which was now gone.

He returned to his room in the healing halls. He stripped off his sweaty shirt, which was still a clumsy act. Even simple tasks like dressing himself had become hard. He fell on to his thin bed. It had been months since he had lost an arm. He had stayed in Barcelona for a long time while he fought to stay alive and stabilize enough to travel.

Now he was back at the Temple in London. He had been kept in the healing halls under medical watch. Constantly under supervision, which meant he wasn't able to sneak out to see Padmé. It was driving him crazy. He couldn't even send her a letter.

First of all, he couldn't even write. There wasn't anyone he could ask to transcribe a letter for him. They would get suspicious. Second, he had no way to send it for the same reason. He would have to pass it to a courier within the Temple. People would ask questions or pass along rumors to the Council.

So for now, he was stuck inside this temple festering away.

There was a light tap on the door. Anakin rolled over on his bed and glanced over. Obi-Wan stood in the doorway.

"You're doing better I see," Obi-Wan said.

"What do you want?" Anakin mumbled as he rolled onto his stomach and stuffed his face into his thin pillow.

"I was wondering if you wanted to attend service at the church tomorrow."

Anakin groaned. "No, I do not."

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said. The way he had said was thick with reprimand. "You could use with some fresh air. When was the last time you went up top? Plus I'm sure service will do you some good."

"As if the daily services and prayers in here aren't enough?" Anakin muttered. Healing wasn't just for the body, but also for the soul. Or so the healers had told Anakin over and over as they ushered him to prayers.

"I suppose you could attend the Temple's Sunday service if you prefer."

When he put it that way . . . "Fine," Anakin agreed. "I'll go."

He didn't need to be looking to know Obi-Wan had a smug look on his face. The next morning, Anakin awoke early so he'd have plenty of time to dress. He didn't want Obi-Wan to see how pathetic he had become. He was in his dark brown and black Jedi robes when Obi-Wan came to collect him. Like Anakin, Obi-Wan was dressed in Jedi robes but his robes were light tan.

The two made their way out of the underground Temple to the streets above. Anakin was both relieved and disgusted. It was nice to feel the air, though tainted with the stench of London. It was nice to hear loud voices, though many were rough and irritating. Regardless, it was a nice break from the calm halls of the Temple.

The two made the short walk to St. Paul's. A large crowd was gathering outside as people made their way up the steps for the Sunday morning service. Anakin and Obi-Wan weren't the only knights. A few others were seen, and those were just the ones wearing the obvious robes of the Order. Who knew how many others were around in civilian clothes.

"Sir Kenobi!" someone called.

Obi-Wan stopped and turned. "Lord Organa," he said with a slight bow of his waist. "Lady Organa."

Anakin made sure his face was at least neutral as he turned to face the couple. He tucked his right arm behind his back. He knew of the Organas. Bail Organa was the Earl of Alderaan. He was quite involved in British politics and a big supporter of the Order. He was also friends with Obi-Wan.

"Sir Skywalker, is that you?" Lord Organa asked. "It's been quite a while since our paths crossed. Almost a year now. The Order keeping you busy?"

"Not busy enough," Anakin replied smoothly.

Organa nodded and chuckled. "I was just talking about you to Lady Naberrie. She was-"

"She's here?" Anakin interrupted. Obi-Wan shot him a glare for being rude and interrupting.

Organa blinked. "Why of course she's here. She was going up the steps last I saw her."

"Thank you," Anakin said. He bobbed his head and dashed into the crowd. He could feel Obi-Wan's glare, but Anakin didn't care.

She was here!

He took the steps two at a time. People shouted at him, but he ignored him. He entered the west portico and looked down the nave. He stood on his tiptoes as he glanced around for her. There! His heart swelled as he carefully dodged around the churchgoers. She was wearing a dark blue outfit. Her hair was twirled into buns on either side of her head while her hat rested on her head. She was looking down the nave towards the dome. Then she suddenly perked up. She glanced around. It was as if she knew he was here. She turned around and their eyes met.

He froze. His heart pounded in his chest. His eyes grew watery. Oh God, it was her. She looked just as beautiful and wonderful as he remembered. Her lovely pink lips parted as she gasped. Her own eyes started to water. She quickly glanced around and then nodded towards the Chapel of St. Michael and St. George. She turned and made her way there. He followed behind her.

It was blissfully empty. She waited for him in the corner. He could bear it no longer. He ran the last few steps and wrapped his arms around her. She wrapped her arms around her neck. He picked her up and spun her around then placed her gently back on the floor as her hands grabbed his face. They kissed. It was short. Far too short.

She sighed as her hands still grabbed at him. "Anakin," she muttered.

"I've missed you, Padmé," he said as he pulled her back into a hug.

She pulled away, but he kept his hand on the back of her neck. Her eyes were so big and round.

"There were whispers . . . " she said softly, "that you'd been killed. I've been living with unbearable dread."

"I'm all right," he lied. His finger gently stroked through her hair. "It feels like we've been apart for a lifetime. And it might have been . . ."

Her lips were pulled down; her brows were creased. She was already so worried about him. No need to worry her further. He leaned in to kiss her, so desperate to taste and feel her lips again, but she pulled away.

"Wait, not here . . ." she said, glancing over her shoulder at the chapel's entrance.

"Yes here," he said, trying to go back in for a kiss, but still she looked away. She was shaking in his arms. Was she scared? Afraid? "Are you alright? You're trembling. What's going on?"

"Something wonderful has happened." She paused as she looked at him. Her eyes searching his, but he did not know what for. "Ani, I'm pregnant."

The air was sucked out of him. The world spun, but as soon as it had started, it stopped. Everything settled back down. The words played over in his head. She was pregnant. They were expecting a child. Then he realized he had been too quiet. She looked on worriedly awaiting his response.

"That's . . . that's wonderful," he said.

"Anakin . . . What are we going to do?"

He slid down to one knee and took her hand in his left hand. "I'm going to marry you," he said.

Her eyes widened and she gasped. "Truly? But what about-"

"I'm going to leave the Order," he answered before she could even ask. "I . . ." He held up his right arm. For the first time, she noticed it was a stump.

"Anakin!" she gasped. She gently touched where the arm ended. "Does it hurt?"

"Not really," he lied. "It's healing. Padmé . . . Padmé I almost died, and I realized the biggest regret and biggest wish I had was you. I just want to be with you."

She smiled. She truly smiled. She leaned over, cupped his face with her hands, and kissed him. Finally. He melted into her touch.

"When?" she whispered against his lips.

"As soon as I can. Tonight. Tomorrow. Maybe the next day. But the first moment I have, I'll come to you. I promise," he said.

They kissed again.

He left the Order the next day. It had taken him all of Sunday and most of Monday just to scrawl out a legible note to Ob-Wan. The only thing he took with him was his holy sword. He knew he shouldn't have, as they were sacred to the Order. But each knight helped refine and forge their own sword. There was a personal connection between them. His sword would only be put into storage and collect dust, and he couldn't bear for that to happen.

He took a cab to Padmé's house. He was dressed in simple civilian clothes. His Jedi robes were left behind. He stared at the tall townhouse for a moment before slowly walking up the steps and knocking. When was the last time he had entered through the front door? He couldn't remember. Probably when he was here on official Jedi business.

One of Padmé's maids answered. Eritaé, if he remembered correctly. She smiled. "Mr. Skywalker," she said as she opened the door wider for him to enter. "We've been expecting you."

He nodded as he stepped into the house. He could hear steps hurrying on the floor above. They then hurried down the steps. Padmé came rushing down the stairs and stopped breathlessly at the bottom as she saw him across the hall.

She smiled and ran to him. He hadn't even taken off his hat or coat, but he ran to her. They wrapped their arms around each other. A second later, their lips met and they kissed. Then they kissed again. A giggle reminded them that they were not alone. He glanced over his shoulder to see that two more maids had joined Eritaé and a fourth stood on the stairs. His cheeks burned bright red.

When he looked back at Padmé, she was smiling. Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks a bright pink.

"I'm home," he said.

Her eyes grew wide. "Yes," she said as her smile grew even larger. "You are."