TRIGGER WARNING: References to suicidal impulses in this chapter.
Chapter 3 – Adrift
"Papa?"
"Yes, child?"
Padmé was seated on the ground with her legs crossed. Her long hair was done up in a tightly-wound plait which she had wrapped around her neck like a scarf. Her fingers absentmindedly fiddled with the braids.
"Do I have a family?"
Palpatine looked up sharply from his datapad. He was seated on an armchair with a leg draped casually atop his thigh. Seeing what she had done with her hair, he frowned and leaned forward.
"Don't do that, Paddy."
"Why not?"
"You could hurt yourself."
Padmé flicked the braid and sent it twirling off her neck. The gentle pressure on her throat which she hadn't noticed until then was relieved.
"That's better," Palpatine said.
"You didn't answer me."
Palpatine set his datapad aside on the armrest. He feigned ignorance, his eyebrows quirked and his expression light. Padmé pressed him.
"Do I have a family?" she asked again.
"What makes you ask such a thing?"
"All the queens have families. I read about them in my textbooks."
"Did you now?"
Padmé bobbed her head enthusiastically. "Did you know Queen Ameilla had twelve sisters and twelve brothers?"
"That's a myth, Paddy."
"How do you know?"
"What does it matter if you have a family or not?" Palpatine diverted the conversation.
Padmé looked down at her feet. "I'd like a sister."
"Well you don't have one," Palpatine said harshly.
"What about a mother?"
There was a pause. "No," Palpatine said eventually.
"What do you mean no?"
"It means we're done talking about this."
Padmé shied away from him, pulling her knees into her chest and hiding her face. "Sorry, Papa," she mumbled.
At once, could sense Palpatine's remorse. "Paddy," he said.
She looked up tentatively to meet his apologetic gaze.
"I'm sorry."
Padmé swallowed hard and nodded. "I love you, Papa."
Of course there was no response.
Δ Δ Δ
After the Naberries mercifully retired not long after dinner, Padmé seized the opportunity to rush upstairs to the bedroom they had provided for her. She tore off her dress, the tight corset suddenly feeling horribly constricting on her ribcage. She then bolted to the fresher and heaved into the sink. What little food she had managed to eat at dinner spiraled down the drain.
She stared at her reflection for a long while before getting changed. Her hands shook violently as she threw on the nightdress. A brisk knock on the door startled her.
"My lady? Do you require assistance?"
"I'm fine, Sabé!"
Her handmaiden lingered behind the door for a few moments. It was clear she could tell something was wrong; Sabé always had an irksome level of insight into her. Padmé paced back and forth agitatedly, waiting for her to leave. Finally, she heard the soft patter of retreating footsteps.
She hadn't planned on running away, but that's exactly what she did. She just needed to get away. Away from Varykino. Away from the Naberries. Away from herself.
Her dress rippled behind her as she tore down the hallways, tears streaming down her cheeks and cold sweat dampening her skin. She ran out onto the terrace and hurried down the stairs toward the lake. The gravel underfoot hurt, but she didn't realize how much until the sand of the beach got into the wounds on the soles of her feet.
She made a sound half way between a gasp and a hiss. Falling to the ground, she picked up one of her feet and hastily brushed away the sand. In doing so, the blood smeared on the back of her hand. Holding it up to her eyes, she saw that it was still trembling. She stared at it for a while before grabbing the wrist to stabilize herself. Closing her eyes, she made herself take a breath. She was composed, she was calm, she was… she was…
Padmé leapt to her bloodied feet. She thrust her hands to the sky and let out a scream. Two bright arcs of electricity burst from her fingertips and surged to the sky.
"You lied to me!"
The clouds above turned a dark shade of grey and the accompanying clap of thunder blotted out the sound of her shrieking. Her shoulders ached and a red hot pain seared down her arms, but Padmé kept them raised – the untapped power at her command feeling oh so cathartic. After several minutes, she finally collapsed to her knees and the lightning came to an abrupt end. The maelstrom she had created continued to surge; A formerly tranquil night had devolved into howling winds and torrential downpour. She craned her head to the sky and the tears were washed away by frigid rain.
"You lied to me," she said again, her voice a whimper.
Palpatine had made her believe that her family had abandoned her. They never cared for her, never loved her! Only he did! He was all she had, and all she ever would have! A renewed swell of fury propelled her to her feet.
"I hate you!" she bellowed to the entropic night. "I hate you! I hate you!"
Her rage quickly dissolved into despondency. He had stolen her from her family! She had lost twenty-five years of her life with them. They were complete strangers to each other now. And as furious as she may be, there was nothing she could do to fix that. There was nothing she could do to amend that horrible wrong. As always, she was powerless. As always, she was weak.
The waves of the lake were choppy, buffeted by tempestuous winds. She stared at them, her distorted reflection in the water wavering like the flames on the menorah. She was broken; disjointed; incomplete.
A contradiction. A hypocrite. A liar.
Liar! Liar! Liar!
She staggered forward. Her dress and hair whipped about as if pleading for her to turn around and away from the wind. Yet she persevered. There was a shock of cold when she stepped into the lake, the paralytic sensation coursing up her legs and suffusing her whole body. A wave crested and splashed into her chest, soaking the thin fabric of her nightgown. She continued onward; her knees submerged, her hips, her shoulders…
"Padmé! Padmé don't –"
A flash of lightning irradiated the sky and the boom of thunder drowned out the voice behind her. Taking one more step, her head went under and all was still.
She floated, feet brushing against the sandy bottom of the lake. Resounding calm was restored and blissful silence reigned.
She was adrift.
Unencumbered.
Unfettered.
And for once – for once, she was in charge of her own fate.
The novelty only lasted for a brief moment before she heard someone jump into the water. Arms wrapped themselves around her and Padmé limply allowed herself to be pulled up the surface. The world returned all at once: the snarl of the storm and the growl of the waves, the vicious rain pelting against her skin. Her hair covered her eyes and she gasped for breath, legs flailing and lungs screaming. Belated fear rippled through her, a frisson of ineffable terror.
"It's okay, I've got you."
Padmé didn't know how to swim. She had never been given the opportunity to learn. In her panic, she clung onto her savior with all her might as she struggled to stay afloat. Her heart pounded in her throat and water sloshed in her eardrums. After what felt like hours, she found herself being dragged ashore, wet sand coating her legs and clumping in her tangled hair.
"Padmé! Padmé, are you alright?"
Someone was cradling her, a much-needed warmth imbued within her at their touch. Vision clearing, she craned her head to see who it was.
"S-Sola?"
Sola shuddered with relief. She hugged her trembling body to her chest, rocking back and forth. A tendril of her wet hair tickled against Padmé's nose.
"Why did you do that? Padmé, why?"
Padmé pressed her forehead against Sola's collarbone, her mouth agape as she gulped at the air. She hadn't realized it because of how wet her face was from the rain, but Padmé suddenly found that she was crying. She wrapped her arms around Sola's neck and clawed at her flesh in the utmost demonstration of desperation.
"Sola, Sola," she said over and over.
"It's okay. You're okay now."
She shut her eyes tight and shook her head, face writhen with anguish.
"Sola," she said again, her throat raw and her speech garbled. She bit down hard on her tongue in a vain attempt to stop herself from crying. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
She felt a hand on the back of her head. Gentle fingers stroked at her hair while a mellifluous voice whispered in her ear.
"It's okay. I've got you. You're okay."
Her sister was here to take care of her.
Δ Δ Δ
An aqueous trail of silt, sand, and blood followed the two women as they made their way back into the villa. Padmé felt sick to her stomach, her insides churning and twisting into knots. Every sensation was a hundred-fold heightened, every flash of lightning a hundred times more terrifying. Her brush with death had rocked her to her core.
"Let's get you upstairs," Sola said.
By some miracle, nobody seemed to have noticed their absence nor their arrival. The deafening sound of the storm she had summoned must have hidden their beleaguered footsteps. Returning to the guest room, Sola mashed the control panel and shut the door behind them.
"Let me get the shower running," she said. Padmé nodded and brushed some of the hair out of her face. Lips numb, teeth chattering, and tongue unresponsive – Padmé knew she wouldn't be able to speak even if she wanted.
Sola gave her a worried look before hurrying away toward the fresher. Alone in the spacious room, Padmé wrapped her arms around herself and swayed back and forth. She was freezing cold. The nightgown was in tatters and the silken fabric was clinging to her flesh like wet toilet paper.
The sound of running water preceded the return of Sola. Their eyes met and Padmé felt an overwhelming relief at her proximity.
"The water should be warm."
Once again, Padmé nodded. She made no move toward the fresher, however. The pair merely stared at each other for a long while. Expressions of gratitude floated and formulated in Padmé's mind, but no words came. She seemed to be mute.
"Come on, let me help you."
Sola stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Her limbs unshackled themselves and Padmé allowed Sola to guide her to the fresher.
"Here we are."
Padmé felt a jolt of panic when Sola released her and turned to leave.
"No!"
She stopped abruptly and turned to her. Padmé gave her a pleading look.
"You want me to stay?"
Padmé nodded vigorously.
Sola pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "How about I wait for you outside? Would that be okay?"
Padmé hesitated for a moment before giving her consent with another bob of her head.
"Alright then." Sola spared her another concerned look before departing, the fresher door sliding shut behind her.
Padmé closed her eyes and felt her anxiety beginning to mount. The din of the water against the porcelain tub echoed loudly, harkening to the torrent of rain and crashing of waves. Her chest grew tight as an irrational fear of being unable to breathe seized her larynx. She pressed her hands to her temples and bowed her head, forearms trembling and her facial muscles twitching.
Somehow she found the willpower to peel off her sodden dress and step into the shower. The hot water and billowing steam had a soothing effect on her and the pounding of her pulse began to abate. Deep breaths calmed her as she placed a tentative hand over her stomach.
Her eyes flew open. What had she been thinking? The baby! Might she have harmed it by going without oxygen for that long? Or more ominously, could the lightning have effected it somehow? How could she have been so thoughtless? So stupid!
She turned off the water and tore the curtain aside. Stepping out of the shower, she hastily dried off and wrapped the towel around herself before rushing back into the room. Sola was waiting for her at the foot of the bed, her eyes widening when she saw her burst out of the fresher.
"That was fast," she said.
"Sola, the baby!" Padmé said frantically. "I didn't hurt it, did I? Did I… did I injure it? I wasn't even thinking! Why did I do that? I can't believe –"
"Padmé, calm down!" Sola managed to interject. She stood up from the bed and grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. "The baby's fine."
"You're sure?"
"I am." Her tone was confident, but Padmé couldn't help but doubt her. Was she just saying that to make her feel better? "Sit," Sola instructed. She sat back down on the bed and patted the spot next to her.
Padmé didn't sit right away. "Sola, I –"
"Padmé," she interrupted sternly. "Sit."
The authority in her voice made Padmé plop down on the bed without any further deliberation. She held a hand to her towel, suddenly conscious of how exposed she was. Surprisingly, she found that she didn't mind. Her façade had been fractured. For all intents and purposes, she had already laid herself bear to Sola.
"The baby will be fine," Sola told her. "You were only under for fifteen seconds. Twenty at most."
"Really? It felt longer."
"Harrowing experiences always do."
Padmé released a breath. Sola's presence acted like an emollient, smoothing out the creases of consternation in Padmé's forehead and allaying the anxiety brewing in the pit of her stomach.
"Padmé, why did you do it?"
She turned to meet Sola's eyes. They were dark brown, so much like her own. How could she not have seen it? How could she not have known?
"Padmé?"
She cleared her throat and looked away. "I… I can't explain."
"Why not?"
Padmé didn't know what to do. She wanted to reveal herself to Sola – to her sister! – but she didn't know if she should. What would Palpatine think if he found out? He hadn't wanted her to come back to Varykino in the first place. She could only assume that this meant he didn't want her to know about her true family.
"It's complicated."
There was a long pause as Padmé stared blankly at her knees. She bounced her leg, hoping to relieve some of the residual adrenaline still coursing through her.
"It's because you're my sister, isn't it?"
Padmé looked up with a start. Her mouth fell open and she stared at Sola with wide, incredulous eyes.
"How…? When –"
"I saw your reaction to Mom's locket. I figured… I don't know, I figured maybe you just felt bad, but now… now it makes sense."
"Sola, I'm so sorry."
"What are you sorry about?"
"I'm not who you think I am."
"What do you mean?"
The words caught in the back of her throat. She had no idea how to explain herself, had no idea what to say.
"It isn't your fault," Sola said softly. "You don't have to blame yourself for being separated from us."
Padmé's face was taut and tight, her features strained and her conscience even more so.
"Padmé. You can talk to me."
And so she did. Like floodgates giving way to a deluge, Padmé spilled out the truth for the first time.
The full truth.