A/N: Threatening subtext and threatening occasion. Hallucinations.

OOO

The hospital seemed eerily silent. Or maybe it was merely this corridor, or this room. Oh, there had been plenty of activity when I'd arrived, but after gaining access to the room, it seemed as if all the worlds themselves had stilled.

Alba Tarkin lay on a bed in the middle of the room, various breathing tubes and other apparatuses hooked up to her, sustaining her life. Her beautiful face was swollen and marred by various purplish, yellowish, and reddish bruises. It seemed that they'd had to put her broken nose in a splint. And her curly bronze locks had been sheared away, in order to provide access to her skull for the necessary surgery—because I had hit her this hard. This hard.

I won't lie. I'd done a number of things I wasn't too proud of in my life. Killed some people who maybe didn't deserve it in order to necessarily cover my tracks for the Alliance, and in order to protect my people. But that was just it: all of it, I had done in the name of the Alliance and in the name of protecting my people. But never before had I done something so terrible. Never had I done something so savage. And I'd had no worthy cause for which to do it. I ought to have gone to Tarkin, or reported her plans to Mother.

But—even in this moment I needed to wonder—what would that have done? Alba had been right; she did have the power. Or she soon would. Power enough to destroy us. Though I hadn't known at the time that the prince was in fact Ray and despised her deeply…

But no. There was no excuse for what I'd done. Only that I'd felt that uncontrollable fury that smoked red and hot through me and then made me cold as ice and so I saw things clearly as crystal…

And now, here I was, in this situation: the prince the one witness to my activities, everything on the line unless I… what? Killed him, somehow? Making another attempt on his life? Or pleased his whims until the current Emperor died and he was willing to forever keep my secret?

Oh, it was all too much for me. I burst into tears, and that was how Tarkin found me. He walked back into the room, saw me crying—presumably over Alba's state—and then in a slightly wavering voice said, "There, there, daughter."

He embraced me. I kept crying, furious now. Because this was all wrong. He shouldn't be comforting me. He didn't understand anything at all. But I couldn't tell him, either. That he was soothing his daughter's attacker: the very attacker for which everyone was now hunting. I cried harder because of all of this, and I cannot lie that the thoughts of my possible fate haunted me horribly…

Tarkin straightened up as Daala and Nigel reentered the room. Though his former mistress and now wife was over twenty-five years his junior, she looked as haggard as he did this day. Nigel's eyes were wide, like a lost child's; he was bereft without his sister.

And behind them strode in the Imperial prince, his eyes boring into mine, glittering like twin gems beneath the hood.

With a jolt I knew instantly this was the real one and not the sub. Oh, stars. I didn't want to see him yet! I didn't want to see him ever again… Yesterday had been the second worst day of my life, and his threats hung over my head like a sword blade poised to strike.

I ought to have realized from the beginning who he was. Red hair. The nose. He looked like his line. Like his grandfather.

Daala's eyes flashed on seeing the embrace shared between Tarkin and me. Her gaze flickered to her daughter, then back to me, and a stab of accusation lay in her jade green eyes—Alba's eyes. It should have been you, was clearly the message.

I attempted to regain some semblance of my former dignity. Better to greet the prince first off. After Tarkin greeted him, thanking him for coming, I went ahead. "Prince Palpatine. Please accept my condolences for this terrible tragedy which has struck so close to your heart."

Like he had one.

He answered silkily, "Thank you, Princess Padmé. I believe I know just how much you mean that."

The asshole. I felt myself pale, but no one else seemed to notice the emphasis in his words. I managed to extricate myself from the hospital scene then, and headed down the hall, my contingent of security behind me. As I looked into my compact and wiped my eyes, she suddenly smiled back at me in the mirror. Her polite, sanitized, bleach-poured-over-blood smile. I breathed in sharply.

Solano said, "Your Highness? Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," I said, shutting the compact firmly. It would only ever be my answer. My mess. I needed to clean it up on my own. If I didn't…

OOO

When I got back to Cantham, I found it, thankfully, empty once again. This morning when I'd woken up, it had been with a spinning head and a sick gut which hadn't just been borne of the effects of the alcohol. "You aren't my father…"

Well. I didn't regret that one, but I regretted a few others. And so it had been with immense trepidation that I'd left my room to go face the music—

Which didn't exist. Leia hadn't been here. No one, in fact, had been here. And so I'd been left to breakfast alone and then head to the hospital to see Alba. It was all over the HoloNet, now, her attack, so it wouldn't turn any heads.

And now it looked like I would be lunching alone now, too.

Or not. "Hello, Dove." Ray Palpatine reposed in one of the dining table chairs, that sweet little smile set on his deceptively pleasant face. He still wore his purple cloak.

"How did you get in here?" I demanded, irrelevantly.

"I have my ways."

Right. I tried another. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, at the hospital you seemed in so much grief over our mutual friend that I just felt moved to come by and check up on you…" He burst out laughing. "Niima, Padmé. I knew you were good at playing a part, but had no idea you were that good. All the…" He mimed crying. "Very nice. You almost had me buying it for a moment. And I was a witness to your little… hmm… shall we call it an 'expression of anger'?"

I kept my cool. "What are you really doing here?"

"Maybe I felt lonely after seeing my intended so desolate."

Right. But I was going with my plan of diplomacy. Perhaps, I could stall him long enough so that he would keep my secrets once he ascended. Or, if not… I could just stall long enough to get Luke's help. I felt loathe to ask my uncle for aid, but what else could I do?

But how could I admit I couldn't handle this? No one would ever trust me again. Because of the brutality of the act. Because of my original concealment of it from them. Because I was sure Mother was now mad at me.

I asked him, "Would you like some lunch?"

"Good idea! Let's go!" He hopped up from his chair, purple cowl fluttering like so many bruises.

Like Alba's bruises.

Oh, stars. What have I done?

"What? No. I meant here. Not—" I broke off, realizing myself rambling. "I have duties to attend to here."

"Really? I thought your mother canceled all of those."

With effort I kept my composure. A hint of respect shone in his eyes for it. What was he—stalking me? Or did he have some perception? "Apparently she believed it necessary. But since I am fine, I intend to do work today."

"A noble attitude. But it'll have to wait!" He put on a deeply hurt expression, and toyed with his chrono. "Unless… you don't want to have lunch with a loyal friend who's keeping your secrets for you?" He pouted. "When all I asked for yesterday in return was to spend some time with you…"

The fine thread of control snapped. "If you're going to kriffing threaten me every time we're together, I'd rather you just do it. Do it. Turn me in. Let me take my punishment like a woman. Just stop this game, you little asshole."

"That's… so impolite, Padmé. I… I'm hurt that you would…" He shook his head sadly. Then he grabbed my arm with a grin and trotted off, yanking me along merrily toward the veranda.

Near it sat a parked speeder bike. "Nice, huh?" he bragged, eyes alight.

"It's alright."

"Just wait until you try it."

"—oh, no. I'd rather walk."

"We can't walk all the way there, Padmé. Come on. You aren't afraid, are you?"

A vast castle. Its gargantuan height. Walking toward my destiny, my doom, looking down the seemingly endless drop into fire and spitting lava and tasting ash in the air… Before Mustafar, I had never feared heights or open flying. Now, however…

He'd stopped smiling now. There was something dark in his gaze—but perhaps not directed toward me. "It'll be fine," he said almost kindly, almost soothingly. "I promise. Trust me."

Trust him? What an idea! (I scrupulously ignored the fact that, previously, I nearly had.) This boy—no matter how finely boned and slimly-built or how pleasantly-faced—was a Sith. He held the dark powers of the universe within his hands. And he could at any time use them to crush me, and destroy my people and my family. All because I had lost my hold on my rage. Then they would all know exactly who and what I, in fact, was: mad. Unstable. Someone who, just like Leia thought, couldn't handle herself. Who Han thought. Who Uncle Luke thought…

And I thought of the doppelgänger, and realized I needed some of her right now. Because she would know how to handle this. She could handle this.

Right now…

Here…

I knew that I couldn't.

And the shame felt too much to bear.

OOO

The spot he'd picked out for lunch was nice, after all—a rooftop garden that he owned which was far better tended than the derelict senate one, with a glittering fountain at the center near which we ate. The food had already been set out. He'd planned this ahead.

Somehow, we got on the topic of his marriage to Alba. I was, inherently, trying to figure him out a little more. If I understood him better, surely I could handle this situation better.

Because I didn't want to call Luke. I couldn't bear to call Luke. And after all, he was busy with the Death Star II right now.

"I think that you were scared to marry her, despite what you claim," I countered as we talked of Alba. "You were upset about your coming nuptials, and that's why you were in the old Senate garden the other day. You want to remain loyal to your grandfather and obey him in this, but you know in your heart that the match is a disastrous one."

His countenance betrayed nothing. "What a fascinating theory. But she'll probably die."

"Probably. Who will you go with, then?"

To my surprise, he admitted, "I'm hoping I can wait a while longer. I don't want to get married yet."

"I will never get married, ever," I replied.

"Really? How intriguing."

"Queen Chaia did it. Why shouldn't I?"

He shrugged. "No reason why not to. Your mother's done a fine job herself."

Why must he bring her up? "Yes," I said. "She has."

"Though," he added, "I've heard she won't be ruling without a consort much longer."

"I've heard that, too," I returned lightly.

"Too bad you hate him," he mused.

"Right." I realized what I'd just said. Kriff him… "I don't hate him."

"Oh. Okay."

Pause.

Then, I said, "He's just not my father."

"...I wouldn't be too distressed about that," Prince Palpatine said at last. "Fathers aren't generally too worthy of being sad over."

"I take it you didn't care for your father much."

"No," he freely admitted. "He was an awful person. So was my mother."

Well. Wasn't that rich. But it seemed I was making inroads, so I pressed on, "I'm sorry to hear that. I can… understand the mother part."

"Probably not."

I felt myself flush, and wanted to fling hot words at him for his swift dismissal. Instead, I took a sip of my drink, and then remarked, "I used to think Kiria DeWinters was the perfect Imperial princess before she and Prince Aiden died. I suppose image is everything…"

He didn't answer this. Instead, he quite abruptly asked, "Do you find me handsome?"

"No." The reply left me before I could think about it. An honest reply. The worst possible thing in politics, much less Sithly threat situations, surely. The thing was to flatter him, to lie.

Oh, I was done for. We were all done for. And it was all my fault…

But instead, he merely laughed. Short. Unamused. But he didn't seem angry—or have that terrible angelic look, at any rate.

"I appreciate your honesty. I don't find you so hot yourself."

"Okay," I said, smiling for some reason. "But I don't care about such trivialities."

"Neither do I."

"Then why did you ask me?"

"I don't know. I felt like it."

This response satisfied me, in its apparent honesty. But I also realized that he hadn't wanted to discuss his mother or father, and had purposely diverted the conversation away from them. Interesting.

"And your grandfather?"

"What about him?"

"You're clearly very loyal to him. So why aren't you telling him about what I did?"

He considered his answer slowly. I liked how he thought things through before responding to them. Then, "Grandfather has been very good to me. I owe him a lot. After my parents' deaths, I was quite bereft. But he took me in and raised me like his son. Taught me so much. I can never repay him his kindness.

"But I'm allowed to keep one thing for myself."

"You consider me a thing?"

"I consider you mine, princess."

A shiver went up my spine at the utter honesty in his face and in his eyes. I stood up. "I am beholden to no one," I said coldly.

"Well, we both know that's a lie," he retorted, a hint of color in his cheeks now. He meant this. And now I had made him mad. "Because I could strike you down as quickly as I have seen fit to shield you, with your selfish heart."

Kriff fear. I got in the evil munchkin's face. "I have no heart."

"How true." He reached out one slim finger and traced, slowly, down my neck… I thought he would touch me inappropriately, but he didn't. Once he reached my collarbone, he let loose. He smiled gently, a mockery of a thing. "Watch what you say, Padmé. I'll tolerate only so much from you."

OOO

A/N: So, what do you think? Padmé is being pretty selfish, isn't she? And what about Prince Palpatine? What is his endgame here?

Next chapter: kriff happens, ya'll. We're getting to the real action soon... *Cue excitement*

Also, I've already started the first chapter of the sequel, Heirs, and it is going to be so fun to write Luke in this new phase of his life! I'm excited to share it with you all once this novella is done.

Thanks for reading,
Hope